#But I started tasting blood specifically in my throat

[minty-bubblegum]

I had to do the pacer test today

[this-doesnt-endd]

I need to start doing my physical therapy exercises again

[hyewka]

I just read your public vibrator gyu. GOOD LORD I NEED A TYUN ONE, but like in the car where the both of you were supposed to go on a late night drive and every time the stop lights go red, the vibrator goes into its highest setting this goes on until poor little tyunnie is sobbing and needs to fucked dumb in the car PLS PLS PLS I NEED IT I NEED IT SO BAD I take one look at tyun and my brain immediately goes "I need to fuck him"

im obsessed with usually composed subs that get bratty when you start to push and push, taehyuns perfect for that lol

idk why but him specifically in work business attire, tie perfectly adjusted, black framed glasses propped up as he stirs the wheel with one hand is sooo attractive but whats even more attractive is getting him to lose his shit when hes not supposed to. i know this isnt exactly what you asked but i think an enemies with a fuck buddy situation going on would be sooo hot here, so easy to get him agitated

he shifts in his seat like it’s nothing when you turn it up a notch. “really?” he scoffs incredulously, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “you’re gonna try that again?”

you twirl the lollipop between your fingers, not even looking at him. “focus on the road, taehyun,” you say, sounding almost bored.

he barely reacts. barely. but you catch it from your peripheral vision-- the way his jaw clenches, how his fingers grip the steering wheel just a little too tight. he’s pretending—he always pretends like he can handle it, like he’s composed, but you know better.

first red light. you turn it up, and he immediately jolts in his seat, biting his lip so hard you think he might draw blood. “s-stop… i’m trying to drive—are you insane?!” he grits.

“and doing such a good job of it,” you chuckle, leaning over to trace a finger along the line of his tie. "i'm just dying to know how long you’ll last like this.”

“fuck off,” he growls, but the effect is ruined when his hips jolt as you poke at his crotch. the gasp that escapes his lips is so sudden, so embarrassing, you can’t help but grin.

“what was that?” you tease, poking him again, watching his body spasm. “can’t handle it, can you? poor tyunnie.”

it's pissing you off slightly that taehyun's still holding onto that facade, eyes focused straight ahead like he’s actually going to make it through this. he's making this tougher than your patience allows.

the light turns green, and he slams on the gas a little too hard, jerking the car forward. you snort, watching his legs tremble under the strain. “you look so pathetic. can’t even keep it together on a simple drive. how’d you even get your promotion acting like this?”

“s-shut up—” he tries to snap back, but he's barely holding it together. you hate admitting it, but he's so god damn attractive it drives you up a wall. he keeps adjusting his tie and his eyes keep glancing around the road. he’s a mess, glasses slipping down his infuriatingly perfect nose and all.

next red light. you crank it up again. taehyun’s head drops back against the seat, his chest heaving, hips bucking helplessly as he lets out a low, broken moan. “shit—please, stop, i c-can’t—”

then, as if giving in to the desperate haze clouding his mind, his hand shoots down, fingers fumbling at the waistband of his slacks like he’s going to jerk himself off right there.

before he can even start, you smack his hand away, hard and fast, making him gasp and look at you with wide, desperate eyes.

“bad, bad boy,” you chide. “don't you dare touch yourself, keep your hand on the wheel.”

he stares at you, incredulous, his breathing heavy, but he’s too wrecked to come up with a response.

you tug on his tie, pulling it tight against his throat. "bite down."

taehyun surprisingly doesn’t hesitate, sinking his teeth into the tie, his moans muffled as he tries to grind down into the seat, his hips moving on their own.

when he starts driving again, your finger circles his crotch, enjoying the taste of the artificial sweet cherry flavor on your tongue (and of course, how loud he's shamelessly being). “you act like a brat at work because you like being put in your place outside of it, right? no wonder you’ve been such a pain lately. guess this is what you’ve been wanting all along.”

he chokes on his own breath, a strangled noise escaping him, his cheeks flushing red. spit starts to drip down his chin, wetting the tie he’s biting down on. you roll your eyes. "disgusting."

third red light. you turn the vibrator to its highest setting. his body jerks violently, a sob ripping from his throat as he slams the brakes, forehead resting against the wheel. “no, no, fuck, fuck—i c-can’t—”

you reach over and slide your hand down, palming the hard length of his cock through his pants, feeling the wet spot where he’s already leaking. “so fucking wet for me,” you murmur, your fingers pressing into him, making his hips jolt. “you’re such a fucking mess.”

he’s sobbing now, still biting on his tie, completely ruined, tears streaming down his cheeks as he begs, practically shaking in his seat.

you just smirk, watching him unravel. “poor thing,” you coo, leaning closer to his ear. “so desperate to cum, but you don’t deserve it, do you? look at you, sobbing like a little bitch.”

“plthse,” he slurs through the fabric, the words barely audible, muffled and wet. “i’ll b-be good—just lemme cum, plthse—i can’t take it anymore.”

you press harder against his cock, feeling him throb under your palm. “you’re not cumming until i say so,” you whisper, your hand sliding down to cup his balls through his pants, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. taehyun’s hips jerk up, chasing your hand like a dog in heat. “but keep begging. i like it when you beg."

[sky-is-the-limit]

'I make guarantees.'

Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Summary: As a member of the TF141, it comes naturally to be aggravated by Phillip Graves. Pair that with every fiber of your body, mind and soul desiring him, and you have a ticking bomb ready to explode. Basically, porn without plot.

CW: Angry sex, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, violent/explicit language, mention of blood (minor), unprotected sex.

WC: 4,712 words (oops)

Notes: I'm not a writer!

Phillip Graves was no ordinary man. He was the sort to blaze through your soul like a wildfire, allow you to feel the kind of passion and intensity you only find between the lines of a fantasy tale and then leave ashes behind, forever engraved in your skin.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned to look at Phillip. You only spared him a passing glance though, smirking just before turning back to laugh at a joke Johnny told, too crest for the other man's tastes.

This was the second mission where you had to collaborate with the Shadow Company for a more effective outcome, meaning you had to be in his overwhelming presence once more. Someone outside watching in would think that you hated each other, whenever you'd interact. You always tested his limits, toed every line that you could cross with every action, with every takedown.

Perhaps you did, deep inside. Hated him for igniting feelings in you so intense that would only resonate to you either banging your head against a wall or let him fuck you against one.

Phillip showed his interest straight away, from the very first interaction the two of you had during your first mission, his arrogance and cockiness oozing out of him as though he had no ordinary blood running through his veins. Pair that with the way he was talking to Johnny, the closest squad member to you, you had to turn down his advances, which unsurprisingly, hurt his fragile ego and ever since, all remarks exchanged between the two of you were like bullets destined to kill.

Once more, you found yourself in the common area of your temporary base, left alone to face him. Your leisure time of listening to Soap's silly dad jokes and good conversation over coffee was cut short when Phillip walked in.

Johnny did not have the patience to ignore him and his snarky comments that he had to physically get away from him, and you did not blame him one bit. Was it your pride or something else forbidding you from exiting right after?

''It's pathetic really.'' His posture was starker than usual, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips tight as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Though you had your back turned on him, you could feel his gaze devouring you whole.

The abruptness startled you, but keeping your composure, you set your coffee down on the table and turned to look at him.

''Your entire existence? I know.'' The words came out in a furious rush and you felt a bead of sweat drip down your back under your black shirt. It was a nasty habit, at that point. You couldn't even finish one argument without starting another and the one brewing was the second one that day.

''How you flirt with him to get my attention, Y/N.'' Phillip's voice was low and irritated, and it set your emotions ablaze, a roaring inferno within your mind. 

“Of course, because it's always about you. I definitely talk to my squad member specifically to get your attention, silly me.'' The minute he walked in, you prepared yourself for this. It would be abnormal for an interaction between the two of you to not turn into an argument.

''He's so boringly predictable that I caught you looking at me at least 50 times. Go on though, I do enjoy the show.'' Arrogance was dripping off his tongue like second nature, along with that all familiar smirk that made your insides hurt.

''Don't you ever get tired of hearing your own voice, Graves? Or do you get off of ticking every box in the 'how to be a perfect narcissist' list?'' You shrieked, hating the way your voice came out your throat but the way in which he threw his shoulders back and laughed in a cruel tone made you see red.

Suddenly he was much closer, leering down at you. It wasn't clear to know who moved first, or who would next.

''Me? A narcissist? You're the one who wants every man's attention on you.'' He growled lowly and stood to full height, his demeanor making you swallow thickly as he loomed closer and stared you down. Out of habit you straightened your spine, lips curling back into a scowl.

''Shut your fucking mouth, Graves-" The blood running through your veins was pumping hot, you wanted to pour it out and paint everything around you red, so it matched the fury riding you with every word he threw in your way. Phillip's response didn’t ease you any.

''Is that what you did to earn your spot hm? Fuck your way to the top?'' His tone dripped with scorn as he responded to you, his words carrying an edge sharper than a sword.

''Say that again, Graves. I fucking dare you.'' Spitting the words with teeth bared, and fists clenched as you circled each other, you poked at his chest firmly, the muscles twitching beneath your fingertips.

Your gaze met his with stubborn defiance, nearly ready to just explode and punch him. Maybe that would make you feel better, knocking some sense into his enormous ego.

There was nothing you despised more than another man undermining your career and progress, belittling you as if you were not greater than all of them combined when holding a sniper riffle in your hands.

What made it worse, was that you knew Graves was doing that to get a reaction out of you, to push your buttons without meaning a single word pouring out of his mouth. It was a facade, you knew that. The first thing he ever said to you, was to compliment your skills, which made his intention even more infuriating.

''You could try that with the Shadow Company next, I promise to give you a higher rank if you use that mouth-'' It was as though your hand had a brain of it's own, moving automatically with force to meet with his cheek and the corner of his mouth, leaving the tender skin red to the touch and the corner of his bottom lip reddening with drops of blood.

''Is that all you got?'' He mocked, his voice gravelly as his fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly, preventing you from moving an inch. Your anger dissipated in the favor of fear the very second you saw his expression.

You were volatile and explosive, but that's how you craved it, and even then, your desire to be fucked by him had trumped all your wrath, in fact, your rage had just heightened it. It was pure madness and the was no rational explanation to it nor that you cared to find one.

Glowering, hands itching to hit him once more, you turned on your heel, aiming for the door and intending to get black-out drunk with Simon as you assumed that he was downing his fifth beer by then, when he grabbed you by the back of your neck and hauled you against him.

You struggled, clawing and scratching his arms as they banded around you and held you trapped. He was chuckling in your ear, you could feel how turned on he was, and your inner voice was crooning that you got just what you wanted, but you ignored it. You wanted to fight yet your body had something entirely different in mind while a flow of slick started to soak up your panties as Graves pressed his manhood into you.

''You fucking-'' The thoughts running wild through your mind interrupted your own words, the ebb and flow of your gazes intensifying by the second though it felt like an eternity of his blue eyes piercing through your soul like he could sense every filthy fantasy hiding behind them. You didn't dare to move and in the end, you didn't have to.

You were both breathing heavily, tension wrought to the extreme as you were staring at each other, not really fathoming how you ended up like this. It was pure excitement, trepidation, like you were desperately waiting for something to happen.

This was the culmination of whatever instinctive, subconscious game the two of you had been playing from the very first mission you'd embarked on collaborating with him, a game of push and push between the two of you until the breaking point.

Graves pushed forward, his lips brutally meeting your own. He bit down on them, hard and cruel, loving the cry you whimpered out as he savored you whole. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back of it, tugging the hair there to tilt your head to his.

The agony was a pleasure as you reciprocated his intoxicating kiss, angry and violent as you teared at his lips. Your sharp teeth aggravated the wound on his lip, and you tasted blood on your tongue.

''Fucking brat-'' He instantly pulled back, his fingers grasping your jaw to keep you in place.

You shivered at his words, a new heat blooming over every surface of your body. Your cheeks tingled and you squirmed in his grip, squeezing your thighs together as you calculated your next move carefully.

"You're such a bastard!" You quirked your head as you breathlessly yelped, almost fearlessly before sliding your arms free of his hold and threaded them into his hair before pulling him in to capture another kiss, hotter and even more passionate than the last.

Phillip responded in an instant, letting his tongue slide against yours, hungrily whilst he tangled his free hand in your hair, gripping painfully, deepening the kiss, like it could be the last thing he ever does.

Your body seemed to burst into a flame of mingled rage and lust, and you knew he felt the same from the desperate, almost angry growl he made the sensation overwhelmed you both. 

Sinking your nails into his scalp, you pressed your hips hard against his erection, feeling him gasp into your mouth before lifting his head to take another look at you, his fingertips never leaving your jaw.

Phillip licked his lips unconsciously as he stared down at you, but before you could say anything, he had brought his face once more closer to yours, his eyes half-lidded and full of desire.

''And you're a fucking slut.'' Once more your hand was lifted in the air, intending to slap him for a second time, but he caught it as it swung for his face and took hold of your other before you could attempt it again. With one swift move, he maneuvered your body around and pinned both of your wrists in a firm grip behind your back before your brain could catch up to what was happening.

Head shaking, arms straining as you tried to break out of his hold, huffing and giving in when he only held onto you tighter, walking both of you closer to the wall, pressing your front hard against it. Panting, furious, your heartbeat thundered somewhere in your throat. The Commander's form was a solid taut weight caging you in, imposing, all muscle, a hard line of his desire against your lower back.

''Someone needs to fuck that attitude out of you, Y/N.'' The words made your toes curl and your hips arch, betraying how desperate you looked, splayed out on his command center for his pleasure. The side of his face was so close to yours that you could feel him breathing down on you, his lips at the shell of your ear.

The other hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your wrists moved to hold your jaw, squeezing tightly to the point of discomfort.

Briskly, he released your arms, spinning around to pounce on the man before you and quickly pressed your back against the wall once more so you can be chest to chest.

''And that's gonna be you, Graves?'' You met his fire with your own, staring unflinchingly into the heated pools of stormy sea. The question was as close to begging as your pride would allow.

''No one else can. No one else can fuck you the way you deserve but me, soldier.'' He stated, face lowering to yours and his tone low and menacing, the promise of retribution sent shivers down your spine.

The grotesque snarl of words should have made you put him in his place, despise of the outcome. Any other day you would have, but instead, your body had different plans.

''Is that a threat, Commander?'' You croaked out, a smirk settling on your face. How you managed to still be coy in a situation where you knew you had no power was insane and the look on his face confirmed it as his fingers around your jaw grew tighter and you winced in pain. 

''Oh, I don't make threats, Sergeant. I make guarantees.'' There was that deep chuckle again. The one that vibrated up his throat until it bubbled out to bless your ears and slither goosebumps down your spine.

Darkly, he challenged your moral compass that was screaming for you to get away from his intoxicating presence. The smirk formed on his lips was wicked, provocative. The prey was finally caught.

''Let's see how far your arrogance can take you then, Commander.'' With a hint of sarcasm, you challenged him back, deliberately imbuing his title with a sensual cadence. His skin was flushing to you calling him by his rank, a blotchy red slowly encroaching from his throat to his cheeks. It was an interesting kind of power to have over someone. 

For a few seconds he just stared you down, eyes adapting the darkest shade of blue. The sensation simmering down in your abdomen was quickening the pace of your heartbeat trying to burst out of your ribcage in a mingle of fear and arousal. It was taking over every single nerve in your body and there was no way of stopping it, not that you desired to.

With a quick use of his brute strength he hoisted you up, having you scrambled to wrap your legs around his waist while his hands moved to your ass to hold you up.

''You won't even comment on the fact that someone could walk in right now and see you in such a mess, Y/N?'' Phillip murmured gravelly, his lips biting the soft skin of your throat intending to break the skin as he was backing you closer to the table behind you, quickly hoisting you to sit on it. He settled between your legs, hands gripping just above your knees.

''God, you must be so fucking desperate for it, huh?'' He was right, of course. The possibility of someone walking in was more than enough to let shame start creeping in your system and yet all it took was one look at his face. The way the moonlight was shining through the window to define his cheekbones even more, experience visible through the wrinkles decorating the corners of his eyes as they stared into your soul.

''You're taking your sweet time with this, Graves. I'm starting to think that you're all bark and no bite.'' You can’t help the smug smile that spread across your lips as you saw the flare of anger flash in his eyes, finding the way he was so quick to be irritated, quite fascinating.

That little defiant glint still sat in your eyes, and he was absolutely determined to remind you who was in charge by the end of the night.

"Oh, I'll show you how I bite.'' He growled, thrusting his clothed erection against your center, a loud whimper escaping your lips to the friction. 

Gasping, you felt his lips leaving a wet trail down the length of your jaw before he settled in the hollow beneath your ear, an erogenous zone he’d discovered, devoting his attentions there. All your body could do in response was cling to him, mewls and sighs falling haphazardly from your lips.

“I dream about your cunt,” He stated, lifting his head up, smoldering eyes locked on yours as your elbows struggled to keep your balance against the wooden surface.

"How it feels.  How it looks.  How it tastes. I dream of fucking ruining you till you can't move to save your life." Every filthy word out of his mouth was a direct attack to your throbbing core as he maneuvered your hips upwards to yank the fabric of your jeans down to your ankles, legs exposed to the cool air of the stone room.  Your gaze followed his, eyes glued hungrily on the obvious wet spots in your panties.

''Fuck- Do it then.'' Clearly, you weren't thinking when your mouth formed the words, "Fucking do it, already-" But it was spoken harshly between the ragged breaths of your desire, and it was all the invitation he needed.

"You're not the one who gets to make commands here," He growled, taking a sinful pride in the drawn out whimper that he had dug out from you.

''Pathetic.'' And so he lifted one of those large hands to your face and pressed his thumb into your mouth, the pad of it resting on your bottom row of teeth as he dragged your jaw down, forcing your mouth wide open.

Trembling with a sudden onslaught of unexpected arousal at having someone else's fingers between your lips, feeling the flutter in your soaked cunt again only this time it was more intense, fiercely with your legs shaking to the sensation.

Your hands moved on their own as Graves' thumbs pressed deeper into your mouth, gliding and pressing at your tongue as you slid them down the length of his body, feeling every defined muscle underneath his blue shirt, going lower and lower, until you were curving one palm around the shape of the Commander's cock confined within his dark shaded jeans.

Impatience took over you, lifting the hem of your shirt, hastily tugging the fabric up and throwing it to the side and before you could touch him again, his hands were at your sides, sliding over the mounds of your breasts and then there was another tug and a louder ripping sound as he teared your bra at the front.

His own pupils, now blown with a heated desire, locked into your glazed expression. Having his fingers toy with your mouth earlier had already caused a small string of saliva to run down your chin and he couldn't help the smirk starting to flicker onto his lips. He had barely started to touch you and you already looked all sorts of fucked up. 

Your outrage couldn't even register before his warm mouth was on your skin, sucking at your nipples, pinching and biting and rubbing the soothing pad of his thumb over each one after any rough treatment. The chill of the night air was an electrifying contrast to the warmth of his mouth and hands as you were openly moaning and writhing to the way he massaged and teased every inch of nakedness before him.

''Me or you?'' You hum innocently to his previous remark as you pressed your palm against him, stroking the long line of heat firmly, and he hissed as his hips bucked forward just as desperately, his hands suddenly coming up to catch both of your wrists, bringing them down to your sides, the grip just tight enough to sting.

Indignation flashed in those midnight blue eyes. There was something off from his normal heated gaze. This look he was giving you was more than just argumentative, more than just fired up. It was absolutely primal. The heat had shifted. While usually he was more reminiscent of a volcano during an eruption, now he seemed to be the moments before, it was a slow heat. Dangerous. 

"I'm not in the mood for games.'' Graves breathed heavily, bending over you to nip at your lips before hearing the sound of his belt touching the ground to finish what you started, freeing himself.

You couldn't tear off your eyes from the obscene sight in front of you as he took himself in one hand while the other came to rest high on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your core, tantalizingly close. He stroked himself once, twice, pressing himself against you and pausing for a moment, just long enough for you to grow restless.

He sighed, the sound more like a growl than anything, steam escaping from his nose.

''I should've done this a long time ago.'' He ripped your legs apart, tugging onto your dripping underwear until it was on the ground, grunting as your slick coated his fingers before he rubbed his cock against your entrance. Every part of your body tightened, a bare spark of pleasure almost exciting you when his cockhead scraped your clit.

You couldn't believe that someone you absolutely despised was giving you some of the best pleasure you'd ever felt. Wanton moans fell from your lips as he jackhammered your cunt. His hand tangled in your hair and yanked your head back.

''You like that hm? You like being treated as a little slut?'' His voice was raspy and full of lust before he pushed forward, drawing all air from your lungs with a loud yelp as he buried himself deep inside you.

''Commander-'' Despite your efforts, the call was loud, urgent. He didn’t start slowly. He was rough, punishing, desperate, taking you with everything he had, as though he was claiming you right where anyone could walk in to see it.

Phillip sped up his pace exponentially, sweat breaking out across his forehead. ''Answer me-'' You became a boneless mess under the power of his ruthless thrusting, slamming into you with such force that you were sure there would be bruises where his hip bones met yours tomorrow.

''Fuck- Yes, damn you!'' You mewled loudly, then covered your mouth with one hand, fearful of passersby. He pulled your hand away, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up into his eyes as he took you against the shaking table.

''I can tell by the look on your face." He said gruffly. ''You can’t get enough of me can you?'' You placed your forehead on his shoulder, embarrassed to look at him.

''Look at me, Y/N.'' He said in response to this. You slowly looked back at him. ''Good girl.'' He muttered, grabbing your hips and pounding into you.

His hips bucked slowly, riding his twitching length inside your warm folds as he withheld his own noises. ''Beg for it, go on." He gave a firm, sharp smack to your ass, gripping on it tightly whilst using the sound to hide the low groan he released.

He didn't want to hold back any longer, but he refused to let you have your way, especially when you were already so close to come undone under his touch. Your dripping cunt was leaking onto him with every deliberate thrust, letting him glide in and out with ease.

He hunched back over you , pressing his chest down onto you as much as he could without breaking his hold on your arms. "Fucking beg-" He gave a feral groan before sliding out of you without the intention of going back in. A strangled whine escaped you, once again, jerking your hips back against him, trying to provoke him, to get him inside, get him to continue, anything. He refused to relent.

"Whimpering doesn't count, doll." He whispered against your ear. His tone is hard, unyielding. Prick.

His stubbornness was torturous for the both of you. It was a battle to see who could break their composure first and he was about to go fucking berserk. Eventually, you lost it. It wasn't until he had pulled back and dragged his tip to the entrance of your sopping cunt once more that he finally heard you gasping a loud breath as he slowly prodded against the heat.

"Please- Fuck, just- please!'' Your desperate response seemed to please him enough, the sudden build-up of pressure and heat in your body was allowed to be released as his length was quick to plunge into your body, sending the entire table to lurch backwards slightly.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were obscene, not really caring that the two of you were doing such a private thing in a place that anyone could walk into at any moment.

He was not gentle, or tender but you hadn’t expected Phillip fucking Graves to be that. His thrusts came fast and hard as he took his pleasure cause that was what he thrived in. Take and take and take, though you gave gladly, growling out praise in ragged whispers that you couldn't barely grasp.

You grabbed tightly onto his shoulders, screaming out in delight as he fucked you into you in a brutal. You felt your legs tingle and your mind go numb. All you could focus on was the warm feeling in your stomach, the bundle of nerves within you going crazy.

The hot tears continued to pour down your cheeks with each merciless thrust ripping through your body as your teeth pierced the soft skin of your lip, the taste of iron touching your taste buds whilst the wet slaps of his body against yours filled the room, accompanying the pain shooting through your core.

''Crying? Is this too much for you, baby?'' There was sarcastic, mock-disappointment in his tone, the repetitive press into you and the wonderfully satisfying stretch of his cock only deepening the catharsis of the intimacy you were sharing with him.

He grabbed your hips and started pounding you with newfound vigor. You could feel yourself clenching around him. It wouldn't be long before you peaked. You dipped a hand between your legs and started rubbing your clit, willing the moment to come faster. You closed your eyes and sighed, both in pleasure and exasperation.

''Too good- Commander-'' This time, you needed no further prompting and there wasn’t a single hint of brattiness in your tone as you submitted to his request fully, whining for him. Waves of ecstasy pulsed through your body, overwhelming you. Noises you didn't recognize poured out of your lips as your body began to spasm and convulse around him.

''That's my fucking girl.'' His last words came out in a rough growl as he pulled out of you again, before thrusting back in, so hard that you started seeing stars and shriek with pleasure.

The room was filled with your sounds, no longer able to control the moans and whimpers that left you as pounded into you, white dots clouding your vision to your orgasm overwhelming your body hard, shattering as he thrusted and swirled, setting off a wild pulsing in your clit that triggered your insides, and you came all over his cock with a scream followed by a shudder of shaky breath.

Graves kept his ever-the-rougher pace, holding you tighter and tighter, but you felt the slight stutter in his hips that suggested that he was close to his own climax. He started gasping out sentences, heavy statements that surmounted to desperation. ''You're mine, fuck- all mine-''

You could feel yourself growing light-headed in the best way as his embrace restricted your breathing to a further degree, and you gasped sharply as he said your name, the syllables transforming into a vicious growl just as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, deep enough to draw blood and deep enough to make you cry out in pain. 

Cleansing, freeing pain, the kind that purged every transgression you knew you’d enacted against him, and him against you.

He followed shortly after as he began to shake subtly, his movements sporadic and wild as he lost control of his body. You surrendered yourself to his control as he pumped aggressively into you, dictating what he needed from your body as he arrived upon completion whilst tightening the grip on your hair almost painfully as he emptied himself inside you.

The weight of his body collapsing against you felt almost comforting in that moment, gasping and absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into your scalp where he’d just been tugging your hair by the roots.

''So..'' he started, his voice strained and weak. ''Learned your lesson yet?'' Cocky bastard.

You chuckled quietly, and you could feel him smile against your skin.

''Think I might need a few more lessons, Commander.'' Shamelessly, you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up as he lifted his head to take another look at you.

''I might have to thank the fucking Scot after all.''

[quokkacore]

FRIGHT NIGHT [jeno & johnny] (m)

summary: your boyfriend has been acting weird. his new neighbor won't stop staring at you. you’ve started having dreams involving fangs and hands that aren’t your boyfriend’s. these three statements are unrelated. probably.

pairings: nerd!jeno x cheerleader!reader, vampire!johnny x human!reader

genre: horror, romance, based off of the 2011 version of fright night with a few things added in!

warnings: sexual content (minors DNI!), general violence, gore, explosions, wet dreams, misogyny, jaemin may or may not be an incel (i'm sorry king), evil aged up johnny (looks about late 30s-40s, is actually like 400 something), vampires, biting, blood, car sex, fingering, dubcon (i <3 the vampire mind control trope), breeding kink, dacryphilia, cucking kind of not really???, infidelity KIND OF NOT REALLY, blood kink, scent kink if you squint?, fear kink, cunnilingus, reader is a cheerleader but no specific body type is mentioned - though she’s described as being physically strong, connecticut

word count: unsure yet! maybe 15k? this current sneak peak below the cut is 518 words!

“Look,” Johnny grunted, eyes much less warm than they had been a second ago, “I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding. If I can just come in I’m sure we can work—”

“No.” Jeno’s voice was harsh, but from behind him you could tell he was moments away from shitting his pants. The hand holding yours was trembling. “No, you won’t come in.”

“Okay, I won’t come in.” Johnny threw his hands up in the air, before grinning. “Y/N?”

The tension was so thick you could practically feel it in the air as you started to step out from behind Jeno. Your boyfriend quickly followed, continuing to cover his body with yours. “You don’t get to talk to my girlfriend. You need to leave. Now.”

“Very controlling boyfriend, aren’t you? I was talking to her. Y/N. Sweet thing.”

That tone. That voice. Sweet thing. You turned rigid as your body threw itself into contradiction. So many sensations seemingly antithetical to each other bashed around in your skull, your body responding in turn. Every single hair on your body stood upright, but a warmth pooled in your stomach and upper chest. Your throat felt dry, but you swallowed down the lump in your throat anyway. You felt flushed, feverish. Tears burned in your eyes.

“Y-yes?”

Jeno turned to look at you, but froze when realizing your expression. You appeared to be in shock, catatonic, even; his stomach sank as one word came to his mind. A trance.

In your mind, every single of the strange dreams you’d had flashed through your mind. The man whose face you could never see, but whose voice was now unmistakeable. The hands all over your body with unnaturally long nails. The touches and scratches that should have frightened you, but you welcomed. Burning, metallic-tasting kisses starting on your lips before trailing down, down, down. Pain, pleasure, married together in a maiming claim to your body, starting in the side of your neck before spreading throughout. 

The same question the voice had asked you at the end of every single one of them, after he had taken you apart and promised you that you’d be together soon enough.

Would you let me in if I asked, sweet thing?

“Can I come in?”

A tear streaked down your cheek as you met Jeno’s eyes, shaking his head violently. You remembered the first two times you had denied him—tried your damnedest to conjure that version of yourself. Begged to god as Jeno’s chest heaved, watching your mouth move, no sound coming out. 

But she no longer existed. Instead, stood the girl who had replied the third and final time. 

“Yes.”

Johnny’s smile peeled back, dark eyes pooling into black. Two unnaturally sharp, ivory canines glittered in the light. He paused, before his hands grabbed the frame of the door.

A moment later, he crossed, without hesitation, across Jeno’s threshold. He scoffed as Jeno’s eyes widened in terror, and against your will, your body cried out for the older man. 

“You said I won’t,” The taller man pointed out, “You never said I can’t.”

PART I: BIND - OUT OCTOBER 17TH

PART II: BREED - OUT OCTOBER 30TH

a/n: blame colin farrell and my relationship becoming long distance for my comeback. pls comment and/or reblog to be tagged when the first part is updated!

[writingbyshiloh]

Nosebleed

Request: hello! good morning/afternoon/night! I was wondering if I could request something from jordan li x fem!reader (established relationship), something like the reader is very very clingy and shy, she is stuck with them all day and it is very strange not to see them together, and Jordan becomes very soft only with her. Maybe Marie's reaction like she was surprised that someone like Jordan could be so soft. Obviously only if you feel comfortable!

AN: I realized when editing I missed some of the prompt but I did get an established relationship w soft Jordan in front of Marie. Still working in the 3k fic but I wanted to do something short and sweet.

CW: Nose bleeds and descriptions of blood, no beta

WC: 0.7k

The situation may feel claustrophobic but the spaced-out seating makes you feel comfortable. Jordan is sitting your your left, Marie to your right for some fun first-year elective about Voughts CEO - Ashley 101. You and Jordan are taking it as a GPA booster. 

To you, Marie is a bonus. You recognized her on the second day of class and called her over, offering a seat next to you. Seating was a free-for-all, especially with most people blowing off this class, but you like her company. It was nice to sit and talk with her before class started. Jordan didn’t feel the same way but kept their opinion to themselves.

“I heard Ashley and the director of the Dwan of the Seven had an affair,” you say, pulling your notebook out of your bag and a few pens. Jordan doesn’t respond past a noncommittal hum, but Marie is wide-eyed in fascination. 

“Emma’s mom told her that Ashley trying to make a documentary about her life,” Marie tells you. You cock your head to the side. 

“Emma’s your roommate right?” you ask. You've heard Merie talk about an Emma but you can’t figure out who she is. You feel Jordan subtly nudge your arm with your elbow, but you ignore them. 

“Yeah. She's in the Crimson Countess school of acting.” Marie says. 

“She’s in Counting.” Jordan pips up. You press your foot against theirs in a silent warning to leave Marie alone. 

Marie shifts in her seat slightly, eyes narrowing in slightly on yours. You can see her thinking, mind racing. What Jordan said is a dick move because no way a first-year would know specific Godolkin slang, it's not horrific. 

“You have a nosebleed.” She tells you, quickly and quietly. You touch your thumb to your nostril to check. Your thumb comes away clean, and you frown slightly. Twisting in your seat, you face Jordan, wanting them to examine your face. 

Hyperaware of your nose you can start to feel the blood slowly trickle down and out. You’re sure your eyes are wide in shock trying to stop the nosebleed by holding your finger up to stench the flow of blood. Your plan is failing, crimson liquid trickling down your finger. 

“Babe! Are you okay?” Jordan asks softly, not wanting to draw attention to you. The pet name and softness probably seem out of place to Marie. 

“I have tissues in the outer pocket of my bag,” you say, twisting your hand so your mouth is free you try to speak. Jordan's eyes flick from your face to behind your shoulder to Marie. 

You feel your bag be tugged by your feet but ignore it. Jordan pulls your arm away slowly, eyes narrowing in on your nose and lips. The bleeding has slowed but you still feel a small swell of blood hit your lips. 

The pack of tissues slides in front of you to Jordan. They take one from the crinkling packet and press it against your nose. With their free hand, they manoeuvre yours to hold the tissue in place. 

Gently, they place their hand on your chin, tilting your face up. You frown at the coppery taste now in the back of your throat and the warm sensation there. 

“You tilt down for a nosebleed.” Marie corrects. Out of the three of you, she would have the most experience you assume. Jordan follows through, hand now on the back of your neck tipping your face forwards, allowing the blood to flow out of your nose easier. You try to wipe the blood of off your lips with a clean tissue. 

“Thanks, Marie.” You say kindly, sneaking a peak at her under Jordan’s hold. She nods and flashes you a tight smile. You worry it's because she thinks you’re weirded out that she told you you’re bleeding. But then you see her eyes dart to Jordan and that makes more sense. You forgot Jordan in public varies from the Jordan you get to see.  

“Thanks, Jord.” You move your head back to Jordan, angle funny as you’re looking up from where they’re holding you. Under the desk, you feel their fingers twisting around yours, squeezing in a silent you’re welcome. 

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Four

Summary:

The next morning you wake up with a bang - literally. But something feels off about last night, and you can't quite put your finger on what exactly.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 3.3k Tags/Warnings: dom!Astarion, praise kink, hair pulling, cunnilingus, shower sex, vampire bites, blood drinking, Astarion pulls some shady shit ngl

Listen. Listen. I'm taking your face in both of my hands and planting a little smooch on your forehead. This has been very light and silly up to this point, but it's going to start to get a little darker. Nothing major, and nothing that will go unresolved, I promise. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. If you'd like a warning more specific than what I've already provided, message me (not on anon, I won't publish it) and I'll be happy to tell you. [EDIT: I think I unintentionally evoked a darker image in this chapter than I wanted to, here's a little more context for it.)

In better news, can we TALK ABOUT THIS BEAUTIFUL RENDER THAT BEAKER MADE? I said the words "I wonder if anyone has rendered Astarion in a towel" and Beaker goes "I gotchu fam." Beautiful. Brilliant. Wonderful. Go follow her this INSTANT. And as always, Zaria for the betaing and the feedback 💖

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

You're barely awake when you feel Astarion’s hand resting on the bare skin of your hip. You sleepily snuggle back into him, and already he’s half hard. A barely voiced breath escapes your throat as he presses into you and plants a sultry kiss on your back. You squirm with the overwhelm of sensations before you've had a single cognizant thought. He continues peppering your back in sloppy kisses as you grind against him wantonly. His fingers dig into your waist and he pulls you into him hard, his now fully erect dick pressing into the dip of your lower back.

Good morning indeed.

You roll over and crush your lips into his, fingers tangling in his messy hair as you desperately try to taste him. He pulls your leg over his hip and you arch your back into his touch. He slips his tongue between your lips and you groan into his mouth, hungry for more.

You pull him so that he’s fully on top of you, his weight pressing down between your legs. He pushes the length of his cock up against your folds and you groan into his mouth, your pussy clenching in anticipation.

His lips leave yours and he plants a trail of kisses down your chest, pausing only briefly to suck on your nipple. Your hands grab at the satin sheets as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud and you cry out when he uses his dull front teeth to bite down lightly.

You slide your hands back into his curls, crushed and limp from the pillow, his usually neatly coiffed hair falling onto his brow. He looks up at you as he continues down your body, his eyes even more red and piercing when not obscured by his frames.

He reaches his destination between your legs and you whine, hips bucking into him as his cool breath tickles your folds. He parts them lightly with two fingers and flicks the tip of his tongue against the hood of your clit, pulling a deep moan out of you.

He reaches under you and pulls your legs up over his shoulders so he can get a better angle on your cunt. He licks a fat stripe up your slit and the sound of your needy keening curls his lips into a smile.

“Ggnn, ‘star-” you mumble incoherently, mouth still sticky from sleep. He slides a single slender finger into you and your ankles dig into his back.

“Mmm, so wet, and just for me?” he hums contentedly, and all you can do is mewl in response. He pumps his finger agonizingly slowly while his tongue lazily laps at your clit.

You fold your arms over your eyes, even the dim light in the room proving to be too much for your senses. Your hips instinctually roll into him, aching for more, but his touch remains frustratingly light.

“‘Starion, please,” you whine, and he rewards your neediness with a second digit. You groan around the stretch, pushing down on his hand up to his knuckles. The throbbing of your neglected clit is borderline overwhelming. You slide a hand to touch yourself but he smacks the back of it.

“Naughty,” he warns lightly and you growl at his continued teasing.

“Then fucking do your job,” you snap, and his fingers still. 

“Sorry, that was mean,” you say quietly, chagrin keeping you from looking at him. He huffs out a quiet laugh.

“Yes ma’am I will,” he purrs and dives into your cunt. Whereas his previous ministrations were slow almost to the point of painful, he now devours you like a starving man having his first meal in days. You cry out with the sudden change in pace and slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. Astarion pulls away and in an instant his lips are next to your ear.

“But I want to hear every sound that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours, darling,” he says in a low and dangerous voice. “I want my name dancing on your tongue when you come.” He grabs your chin and turns your head to face him. “Understood?”

You nod, your breath caught in your throat. His fingers tighten slightly and you know he wants a real answer.

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out in a small voice, your pussy aching to be touched again.

“Yes what?” he growls, and his tone sends a jolt of lightning directly to your core.

“Y-yes sir,” you stammer, and his lips stretch into a devilish grin.

“Good girl,” he coos and he finally releases your face from his tight grip. This is a new dynamic, but you're not complaining. If anything, his vaguely threatening tone is turning you on more.

He returns to his spot between your legs and continues to lasciviously lick you up like you're his little treat. He twists sounds out of you that are completely unfamiliar to your own ears. His fingers sliding in and out of your cunt, the feel of his tongue teasing your clit, the ever so faint scrape of his fangs along your inner lips, it's quickly proving to almost be too much.

“Astarion, ah-” you pant, and you're rewarded with a growl of approval from him. He increases the pace of his fingers, causing your toes to curl and your thighs to begin to squeeze around his ears.

“Look at me,” he snarls and your gaze snaps to his, his red eyes nearly black from lust. He curls his fingers just right and you crash over the edge, a string of swears and praises jumbled up with his name tumbling out of your mouth. 

He continues licking you through the waves of aftershock and you almost fear disintegrating on the spot. When you've finally made it to the other side, Astarion sits up and licks his fingers with a smug look on his face.

“Shut up,” you mumble and cover your face with your hands, embarrassed by just how hard he made you come.

“I haven't said a damn thing,” he says with a satisfied grin. He extends his hand to you to help you off the bed.

“Come shower with me,” he says, and you look at him skeptically.

“I don't think I have another one in me,” you admit sheepishly, and he barks out a surprised laugh.

“I had no expectations, although now that you mention it,” he says, giving you a salacious once-over that brings color into your cheeks, “I'm sure you do.” The way his voice drops immediately makes your pussy tingle, and you almost want to stubbornly say no. But your eyes trail down his lean body and onto his cock, which is starting to twitch lightly.

Gods, it's pathetic how down bad you are for him.

He returns to where you are on the bed and captures your lips in a soft but heated kiss. You melt into his arms and allow him to lead you to the bathroom. He breaks away from you to turn the water on and you need to grab the sink to steady yourself. 

He pulls you into the glass and porcelain box and kisses you deeply as the water soaks through to your scalp and runs down your back. He grabs what looks like a bottle of homemade shampoo from the shelf and squeezes some into his hand. It smells like him, the scent you associate so thoroughly with him. You shiver as he lathers it into your hair.

He massages your scalp and you close your eyes, leaning in to the gentle touch. You rest your hands on his hips, still dry, and lightly run your nails along the dip in his back. He shudders in response, and you open your eyes to see him looking down at you with a soft smile. You tilt your head back, letting the water rinse the suds out of your hair as you lean up to kiss him.

He repeats the process with conditioner, his touch impossibly gentle. Your hair slides through his fingers like silk and you practically nuzzle into his hands like a purring cat.

“Do you like that?” he hums under his breath. You can only answer with a pleased and sedated nod. He slides his hand down the side of your face and to your neck.

“How about… this?”

His hand suddenly tightens around your throat, not hard enough to constrict your breathing, but definitely enough to make you stand at attention. Your eyes snap open and his heated gaze boring into you causes an involuntary moan to slip through your lips. He pulls your face forward and presses his cheek to your temple. 

“You like it when I tell you what to do, don't you?” he hisses into your ear. You dig your nails into his hips as you make an incoherent noise of assent.

“Good girl. Open.”

Your mouth pops open obediently, and he roughly shoves his thumb between your lips, the rest of his hand cupping your face. You suck on it greedily, eager to please. Desperate for more praise.

What has this man done to you?

His eyes flutter closed momentarily while you work his thumb with your tongue. You claw at his lower back, pulling his hips into yours so you can feel his hardening cock, groaning when it makes contact with your thigh.

“Turn around,” he snarls and you comply, the water from the shower head splattering down your back. He grabs your waist and presses his erection into your crack, pulling a stuttered breath from your lungs.

He slides a hand up your back and into your hair, pulling your head back roughly. He lines himself up with your entrance which is already dripping for him again. He slides in easily, pushing your chest and cheek against the cool tile. You groan as he bottoms out and you push your hips back into his.

He bends over your back and lightly nips at the crook of your neck.

“Yes?” His voice is hoarse as he asks for permission. Your lips can't form words, so you pant out something in the vague shape of “uh-huh.”

The slicing pain of his fangs mingling with the sharp sting of his hand still pulling on your hair and the stretch of his cock inside you is deliciously torturous. You reach a hand up behind you and twist your fingers into his curls, keeping him latched to your neck as he drinks. He pumps in and out of you, each thrust timed with another swallow of your blood.

Your grip loosens as your life force ebbs away just a little too much and he pulls off you with a frustrated growl. He picks up his pace and takes your cries of pleasure with him.

“Say my name,” he says in a husky voice that absolutely sends you.

“Ah-starion,” you pant, the sound of your voice bouncing back to you off the tile. The grip on your hair tightens.

“Say you're mine.” His voice is starting to take on a note of hungry desperation.

“Nngh I’m- ah- I'm yours,” you manage to stammer out through your building climax and his driving pace. He pulls your head back and bites your shoulder roughly, licking the puncture wounds that form. You push against the tile into him, chasing your second orgasm of the morning.

His breathing grows ragged as his pace falters, and the throbbing of his cock as he comes brings you to your own finish.

“Fuck, Astarion!” You call out his name in the clearest voice you've been able to conjure since he woke you with tender kisses on your back. His hand tightens at the sound before his whole body relaxes around you and pulls out, lightly massaging your scalp where he had been tugging.

You're both panting as you turn around and rest your head against his chest, and he plants an exhausted kiss on the top of your head. You look up at him through hazy eyes and suddenly realize with a laugh that his hair is still dry.

“Do you want some help-” You begin to reach up to touch his white curls but he catches your hand midair.

“I- no, it's fine. I'm very particular. Why don't you towel off while I finish up here?” His voice is gentle but it has an edge to it that you can't quite identify. He sees your concerned expression and lightly kisses your lips.

“I’ll be right out, I promise. There's an extra robe in the closet across the hall.” His disarming smile is comforting, mostly. Part of you wonders if he regrets opening up last night.

You pad into the kitchen looking for a remnant of something to eat. His Majesty is sitting on the counter and assesses you with disdain. Your barely touched plate of risotto is still sitting on the table. You open the fridge to find it

empty?

Completely bare, save a few bottles with a red sloshy liquid, without even leftover ingredients from the dish he made. You furrow your brow in confusion as you look for any physical proof that he cooked for you. You snoop around, opening drawers and cabinets as His Majesty watches you with careful judgment.

No cooking implements, no pots and pans, just a few dishes and glassware.

What?

You finally open up a cabinet that houses the trash and you find a used scroll of Create Food and Water. You blink, bewildered as to why he would feel the need to lie about his ability to cook. It's almost a little cute. 

You're about to close the cabinet door when something else catches your eye. A potion bottle. You still, trying to hear if Astarion is still in the shower. It seems like he is, so you reach into the trash to pull it out.

It's an empty potion of Charm Person.

Your face grows hot as you realize what happened. And your confusion only grows, because nothing about your behavior has indicated anything but being completely smitten with him.

You rewind the mental tape of last night, that the food tasted even better the second time you tried it. You squirm with the discomfort of the knowledge.

But you only had a few bites before the two of you moved on to other activities. Your education in potion use is fairly limited, especially with one of these newer ones, but you're pretty sure that you'd need to consume more for it to have made a significant change in your faculties. The wine probably clouded your head more than the potion.

You hear the shower shut off and you freeze. Are you going to confront him about this now? Should you just grab your clothes and go? You glance at His Majesty, hoping for some sort of answer, but he just stares back at you coldly.

Before you get a chance to decide, Astarion comes into the kitchen with a towel around his waist, gently drying his hair with a cotton tee shirt.

He sees you with the potion bottle in your hand and he stops. His expression is unreadable as he looks at you over his glasses. He’s wearing the round frames again.

“Uh. Hey. You don't need to do this,” you say awkwardly, holding up the bottle. “I came here on my own accord, I don't need convincing. Or, you know.. charming.”

“Sorry, I- I don't know why I did it. Old habits, I suppose.” He shrinks back, and you're reminded of his uncertainty and vulnerability from last night. Is this… somehow related?

“Well… don't do that shit again. You can just talk to me, you know,” you say icily. Then, to lighten the mood, you add, “I don't bite.”

That makes him smile and you feel a sense of satisfaction. He walks over to you, takes the bottle out of your hand and trashes it. He punctuates the gesture with a kiss to the top of your head.

“I am truly sorry. It was out of line and you don't deserve that. It won't happen again.” He tucks a damp lock behind your ear and cups your cheek adoringly.

“It better fucking not,” you scowl playfully. Then, to show there are no hard feelings, you stand on your toes to bring your lips to his. He returns the kiss and it quickly becomes heated, his hands tangling into your hair.

You manage to pull away, breathing heavily.

“Okay, I really don't have a third, so let’s cool it,” you tease, and he responds with a sheepish grin.

***

You text Shadowheart on your way home.

-Are you still in my apartment?

-Yeah, I said I would be. How did it go? Considering the hour I'd say pretty well.

-Yeah, it was nice. Well, mostly.

-MOSTLY??? What happened. Do I need to call on Selûne for some revenge?

-Lol no, nothing so dramatic. I'll fill you in when I get home.

-Hurryyyyyyyy, you can't keep me waiting.

You wave to the doorman on your way into the building. He makes a noise in his throat and you turn.

“Yes?”

“Thou hast taken up a bosom companion,” he says in his characteristically stilted way of speaking. Your jaw drops.

“Withers!” you scold, completely scandalized. 

“Tread carefully. I would not care to see you get hurt.” He nods at you solemnly and you give him a genial smile.

“Thank you, Withers. I'll be careful, I promise.”

He responds with a judgemental “hmm,” and you laugh.

Back in your apartment, you regale Shadowheart with the night’s - and more importantly, morning’s - events. When you get to the part with the potion, you need to pull her back to keep her from reigning down violence on him. 

“I’ll destroy him. Did you tell him that? That you have someone who will commit murder for you?” she seethes and her protectiveness makes you laugh.

“I didn’t have to, I told him not to pull that shit. He seemed genuinely contrite afterwards. I don’t think he put it together just how gross it really is.”

Shadowheart gives you a look that says, “oh, honey,” but chooses to remain silent. You take a deep breath, still a little lightheaded from the morning’s activities. 

“Are you alright? You look like you’re about to pass out.” She grabs your wrist and looks at you with concern. You wave her off and cross to the kitchen to get water.

“I’m fine. Just a bit woozy. I think he drank more than usual this morning,” you say nonchalantly as you fill up a glass. Shadowheart’s silence behind you is deafening.

“You think he… what?” she spits, and you choke on your drink. You may not have told Shadowheart about the blood drinking. She knows he’s a vampire, but… oops.

“Um… nothing. It’s… it’s nothing,” you stammer, grinning sheepishly.

“Tav!” she exclaims and stalks over to you. “Te absolvo,” she incants, bapping you on the head in the process. You’re pretty sure that isn’t part of the spell.

But suddenly you feel better. The lightheadedness is gone, and you think the wound on your neck has even closed up.

“Wait, you can do that?” You stare at her, shocked. You can’t believe you hadn’t thought of this before.

“Don’t take this as permission to get your kinks in whenever you want. I can only do that so many times,” she warns, and you beam at her.

“But your spell slots refresh when you sleep,” you remind her mischievously.

“You’re about to become an absolute menace, aren’t you?” she complains. Your smile widens and she groans.

[ja3hwa]

64 with vampire!Mingi PLEASE!! also congrats on your milestone you seriously deserve it babe <<33333

"Mark Me As Yours"

Prompt : 64 "I didn't believe in soulmates until I met you."

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : You forgot to tell your vampire lover your heat started. Now, he gets to experience that you taste like in the midst of it.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 :  1.03k

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Suggestive, Fluff, Supernatural.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Vampire!Mingi x CatHybrid!Reader (Female)

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Blood drinking. Mating. Marking. Mentions about nests and heat. Description of reader becoming "softer" and "plump." Scenting. Scent changing. Mention of Yunho and health issues. Whimper. Mentions scent glands. Heavy Omegaverse Themes. Begging. Sappy shit. Pet names like Darling and Kitty. Swearing.

Note: ♥︎♥︎ Thank you, baby. I hope you enjoy this fic.

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It was a normal evening in the manor, Most of its residents have soon left for the night or gone to sleep. But among the normal night sleepers, like witches, wolves or fae, was a lone vampire, Mingi. He chose to stay in for the night, unlike the other vampires of the manor. He wanted a quiet evening with his love, a hybrid… You.

You were currently in the shower, getting ready for the movie night he had planned. You were super excited, never really getting time alone with Mingi, given he was either out working on the vampiric counsel or sleeping during the day. You didn’t mind, though, sneaking in while he was trying to prepare a nest of pillows and blankets so you would be comfortable. You tiptoed until you were behind his bent form, but before you could pounce, he turned around, catching you in his arms. He fell back onto the bed, landing with a huff on top of him. 

“Well hello to you too, Darling.” He stares up at you in awe as your big fluffy ears twitch at his deep voice. Your long, luscious tale swings with joy, following a big smile painting your features. You suddenly attack his face with kisses, drawing them all the way down to his neck. He hummed in delight at the feeling, but then, as he slowly slipped into a comfortable spot, a smell invaded his nose.

It was like a salty twang with a hint of orange and poppy seeds, mixing into your natural sent. His hands grip your waist harshly, twisting you both around until you were nestled under his larger frame. You look at him with surprise, ears raised and tail no longer wagging. His nose connects with your neck suddenly smelling the most intoxicating thing. Your blood has gotten sweeter to the point he could smell it through your skin. Your body was plumper, more squishy, and hot to the touch. “Are you?”

“Maybe…” You whimpered, making Mingi let out a groan in desperation. He couldn’t believe you were having a heat right now, and he’s been away neglecting you. When he first met you, he made sure to find out everything about hybrids, specifically cat breeds. He’s never been with you through your heats as you usually take blockers or pills. But this heat felt different, and Yunho, a wolf, said it might be a good idea to see it out instead of holding it off like the past in fear of your health.

“Fuck kitty.” You purred at the nickname, “You are going to kill me.” He moved, pulling you up along the bed so your head could sit on a pillow. He starts to push blankets and pillows around you forming a functional nest of sorts. He knew you would most likely fix and make a new nest later, but for now, the comfort of the soft fabric that was riddled with Mingi’s scent satisfied you for the moment. His warm lips connect with your scent glands, and it brings out a low purr from your throat. The fluff on your tail frizzes up from his touch, and your large ears bow in contentment. But what caught you off guard was when his long, sharp fangs gliding against your hot flesh, drawing a loud gasp from your lips.

“M-Mingi, P-please…” You knew what you wanted, but your dizzy brain made it hard to speak, your tongue feeling like it had been twisted into a knot. 

“What is it, my precious baby? What do you want?” His velvet voice melted your tense muscle and ached your core. You rubbed your hips against him in a pathetic attempt to relieve the pain.

“Want…” That’s right, what do you want? Your heart felt nothing but love for your Undead lover, and your pussy craved to be filled by him. But most importantly, you wanted to be his. Be marked you as his. He may not be a hybrid and share the same mating techniques as your species, but He had ways to provide a mark. His mark. If you so asked. But would he want to do it, be bound to you forever?

“Breed… Mate, Bite…” Words spilled out of your mouth before you could control it. Tears swell at the corners of your eyes. You needed him so badly, and Mingi knew it. His heart ached just as much, if not more, than yours. He never thought in all his years on this planet that he would find someone as special as you. Someone he could call his. Call his…..

“You know, I didn’t believe in soulmates until I met you…” He whispered against the shell of your ear. Tears freely pour down your cheeks as your fingers scrunch into his baggy shirt. “I love you so much, Darling.” 

“I love you too, Min. Please,” you begged again, and this time, Mingi knew what you wanted. What you needed. Going back to your scent gland, he kissed your hot neck before his tongue flattened against the flesh. He licked a strip before his mouth latched, suckling slightly. Moans were flying from your mouth, cries and pleas following. And before you would begin to beg once again, you felt his fangs pierce the skin, sinking deep into your jugular. Blood pooled quickly into his mouth, and Mingi groaned at the taste. Never in his life has he ever tasted such a sweet yet irony flavour. He was addicted, and if he didn’t have self-control, he would have surely drunk you dry. 

But alas, he did, in fact, love you. So he pulled away, eyeing the way some trickles of blood dripped from the wound onto the sage green velvet sheets below. There was a smile on your face, following a small hiccup. Words couldn’t explain how happy you were. Mingi, your undead vampiric lover, sealed a mate mark on your neck. And it may not be a full mark like other hybrids would perform, but it was your mark. A staple to say he was your and you, his.

- ♥︎

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 1 - Puppet Loosely Strung

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: Running away to join the circus doesn’t go exactly as you hoped it would.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, murder, generally dark content

Word Count: 13.9k

Disclaimer: I don’t read the manga or watch the anime. This is based solely on OPLA Buggy because Jeff Ward.

Some quick notes before we start: This is what I've been working on this since October. Originally it was going to be one really big one-shot posted at the same time, but it's big enough that I can justify posting it as a series. I'll add warnings as I go, but this is not a happy story and there will be explicit content later on. The reader character might not be somebody you see yourself in, I had a very specific image of what character I had in mind while writing. To me, reader fic is more of a sort of play acting rather than "oh that's literally me" but I know that's not everybody's cup of tea. A lot of this is cope fic and it shows. When times get rough the porn gets rougher, right?

I had help writing this from an individual who is very dear to me. Flashbang wouldn't exist without her, especially since she was the one who gave me the clown brain rot. And then there has been the hours of brainstorming and spitballing and watching Jeff Ward shows/movies as she continued to feed my addiction. Thank you, my love, and also damn you because this wasn't what I needed.

New chapter every Sunday. Enjoy~

.

“Let me put myself in your shoes

As a puppet loosely strung

Around you, they were so confused

That a faulty man could have so much fun”

.

All it took was a little doubt. Through logic or confusion or wishful thinking, you could be convinced that the insignificant person who had parasitically driven you around for the past however many years was a stranger, and now they were gone. Everything that had ever happened fell into incomprehensible dust, and every thought you ever had belonged to somebody else. A cycle of a million memories you didn’t recognize spun through this foggy place, none of them real, none of them familiar. 

Logic, confusion, wishful thinking, or unconsciousness. An endless dream of nothing at all. But as soon as you became aware, it was awareness that those thoughts happened in the past tense, crushed inward by the unrelenting force of existence, and you were shoved back into a body. You—not the real you, the stranger you, the one made of heat and fury and pain, the one you couldn’t recognize—were gasping and thrashing in ignorant confusion, coughing out the sickening taste of blood in your throat. 

Everything, all of it, hurt. And that was all that existed. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Your panicked thrashing made you realize that you were upright, your body straining painfully against the various chains keeping you pinned against the wall in an X. The position put nearly all of your weight on your shoulders and left your head to sag heavily to the side, making the terrible, dizzying headache that much worse. Having suffered more than your fair share of them, you knew that this headache was from more than an uncomfortable position or your old injury. A hot throbbing pain radiated out from the back of your head, shooting little sparks down your spine. It hurt bad enough that nausea formed a tight, heavy ball in your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you forced your eye open, fighting the urge to cringe away from the light as it rolled this way and that. Colors and lights were nothing more than a nauseating smear, but at least you could see. 

Little by little, you became aware of yourself. From far away, you had a vague recollection of leaving, of nerves, excitement, and then of danger. But… no, why weren’t you at home? Doom settled in its rightful place as you realized exactly how little you remembered or knew, slotting into the spot of coherence and reason. Despite the pain, you fought against the shackles holding you in the uncomfortable position, irrationally desperate to be free of them. 

“There she is! Finally,” somebody said from your left. His voice hit like a hammer to the back of your aching head. You strained to look at the speaker, he sounded close, but you couldn’t turn your head far enough to make up for your limited vision. 

Luckily, he didn’t stay out of sight for long. The man’s boots were loud and deliberate as he slowly moved out of your literal blind spot. To your ill-adjusting eye, he was not much more than a blur of white and red and blue, his big smile smudged as you rapidly blinked to focus. A little shock of meaningless recognition in your brain saw the makeup and red nose and said ‘clown’, but the sheer ridiculousness of that made you even more sure that this wasn’t real. 

“Not a fun way to wake up, is it?” he asked. “Keep breathing, let it drain back and cough it out. Trust me, it’s over quicker that way.”

The question you tried to form was, “Who are you?” but all you could manage was a heavy groan followed by a fit of painful coughs, wheezing raggedly in between. Each desperate convulsion rattled the chains and caused the wood to creak, but did nothing to free your bound limbs. The man seemed bored by it, annoyed he had to wait for you to get ahold of yourself. 

Since he hadn’t immediately helped you down, you could only assume that he was the one who shackled you in the first place. Strung you up against a wooden board of some kind in a room you didn’t know. Cramped and windowless, it reeked of paint and sweat and sawdust and sweet salty rot—a unique smell that didn’t help your nausea. Clutter stacked up against the walls. Dense, humid air pressed against you like a heavy coat, paradoxically chilling. Probably because of the fever burning beneath your skin, slicking you up with sweat, soaking into your clothes and the bandana you kept wrapped around your head over the left eye.

Breathe. You focused on your breathing. Panic wouldn’t help you. 

“You done?” he asked. Without any other choices, you turned your head to shamefully wipe your face off on your sleeve before nodding. “Great. Well, now that you’re awake… Welcome!” He threw out his arms with the flamboyant manner of a showman with the greeting, but they wilted right after, his big smile dropping a bit. “Or, at least, that’s what I would say if you hadn’t let yourself in and stolen the opportunity from me.” 

That was bad. Very, very bad. You jerked in an awkward, uncoordinated burst, physically reacting to the danger he presented. 

“No, no, don’t leave on my account,” he said, waving his hands and getting closer as if to stop you. “Oh wait, you can’t! Hah! Yeah, ‘cause of the chains.” He smiled affably, like it was a harmless joke, standing close enough for his gloved fingers to skim along the chain wrapped around your neck. “I guess you’re not going anywhere, huh?” 

You didn’t respond, barely daring to breathe when he was so close. Smiles and melodrama aside, his blue eyes were oddly dead, fixed on you without the slightest bit of humor. And then it finally came back to you, the vital thing that you should have known, that you would have known if you weren’t strung up and suffering such a crippling headache. The makeup, the nose, the hat—

“You’re,” you began to say, but your voice was hoarse and weak, you could barely get it out when he was looking at you so closely, so intently. You cleared your throat, wincing at the metallic taste. “You’re the-that pirate captain Buggy, like on the-the poster?” Right! The clown guy, the red-nosed pirate. You were looking for him. So this was… good, wasn’t it? 

He gave you a flat look, clearly not sharing your weak enthusiasm. “Yes. I am that pirate captain. Buggy, the Genius Jester? The most feared pirate captain in all the East Blue?” He turned with a dramatic flick of his coat, messing with something that had to flash silver before you realized it was a knife. “The man destined to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates. Yes. I am that pirate captain. And,” he paused, checking to make sure you were paying attention, “a very busy, very important man. I’ve got, oh, ten minutes or so for you to decide how this is gonna go. So let’s get straight to it.” He turned back, pointing the knife at you. “Who are you, and what are you after?”

The accusatory tone of his voice took you aback. “Nothing… I’m not anybody,” you stammered out. “And this… this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

Buggy, to your surprise, relented after a second of considering your appeal, nodding understandingly. 

There was no transition from his look of sympathy to raising the knife and aiming it at you. By the time you realized he meant to throw it, you barely had a chance to yelp. The blade took a loud, thumping bite into the wood beside you. On your left side, of course. Where you couldn’t see it. You could feel it, though. The air displacement ruffled the fine hairs around your ear. If you had flinched in that direction, it probably would be in your skull. With your dizzy head aching and confused, you had no regulation to your fear or discomfort, your breathing dangerously unsteady and tears pricking the corner of your eyes. 

“Let me try a different question,” Buggy said before you could collect yourself, pulling out another knife. “Who else knows about this place?”  

“Nobody! I swear, nobody else. I was just…” You didn’t know what to say. It was all you could do to breathe the thick, heavy air and fight down the tide of nausea.  

“Just what?” Buggy asked, leaning in with raised eyebrows to show that he was listening intently. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to come up with the right words. Thoughts churned through the thick sludge in your head, getting stuck or lost or confused. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, the stumbling apology coming out more naturally than anything else, an attempt to buy time while you organized your thoughts. “Please doh-don’t…. I’m so ss-sorry.” 

Buggy sighed, standing up straight and raising his hand to aim. 

“Nonono, please d-” You yelped louder this time, flinching away as the knife streaked through the air and stuck not even an inch away from your right cheek. You exhaled a pathetic little sob, whatever you were bound to shaking with your body. 

“Listen, honey buns,” Buggy said. “Drop the act. Stop the whining. I caught you, red handed, sneaking into my lair.” He pulled something out of his pocket. Not another knife, but a piece of paper which he unfolded, holding it up for you to see. His wanted poster, creased into sixths from the way you folded it to keep it close, to keep it hidden. “I found this in your bag. You know who I am, and you know where you are. You have to, so let’s do away with all the theatrics, okay?” 

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly in the hope that it would appease him. 

“Right now, this is a conversation,” Buggy said, gesturing between the two of you. “A light interrogation, really. But if you keep being uncooperative and wasting my time, it’s gonna go from being interrogate-y to being torture-y real quick. You don’t want that, right?” Although he was unmistakably threatening you, Buggy’s tone was more natural than before. There was a bluntness to it, an honesty. Men like him didn’t idly use words like torture. 

You sniffed, trying very hard to calm yourself down. This was a misunderstanding, so you just had to convince him. Simple as that. He would understand. You would make him understand.

“Right,” you agreed. 

“Fantastic. So,” he loudly clapped his hands together, “who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody, I promise… I’m really sorry I broke in,” you told him, speaking slowly so your words didn’t catch. “I just wanted to meet with you.” 

Buggy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, the hair hanging out from the sides of his hat swaying as his head tilted curiously. “You’re a fan?” he clarified. “That explains why you’re so pathetic. Well I hate to break it to you, but there’s a reason I only hold meet and greets after shows.” 

“No, that’s not why! I-I want to join your crew,” you said. “I came to ask you to let me join your crew.” 

He blinked twice, staring at you with obvious disbelief. “Excuse me, what?” 

“I want to be a pirate,” you told him, louder. “Please. Please let me join your crew.”

Buggy’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the rippling shift of incredulity, befuddlement, skepticism, and then amusement in his eyes. That emotion burst outward into a loud laugh, making you flinch. “That’s the best you can do?” he asked. “Ask to join my crew?” He looked at you again, laughing even harder. “I don’t know what’s funnier—that anybody would send you to spy on me, or that you’d think I would consider hiring you.” 

“I mean it!” you argued, humiliation and desperation seeping into the thousand other discomforts of your position. This wasn’t at all how you wanted this to go.

“Sweetheart,” Buggy said condescendingly, “even assuming I believe you, this is a pirate crew, not an afterschool club.”

“I know. I know what pirates do, I know what you do,” you told him. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want. Please, please, just give me a chance.”

He nodded, turning to pace as he thought about it. 

“Okay, let’s say that I buy this… this act of yours,” Buggy said. “Do you have any experience? Maintaining ships, reading maps, loading cannons. You know, basic stuff.”

There was a line you had prepared to answer this question, one that would paint you in the most charitable light. You remembered that, but you couldn’t remember the line. All you could give was the truth. “A little.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Thought so. What about specialties? Unique skills? Any sort of talent that I can use in my show—anything at all. I mean other than,” he gestured vaguely in your direction, “that. We don’t need another one eyed midget. They’re surprisingly common.” 

“I’m not a midget,” you told him, nerves fading to incredulity. 

Buggy stepped back to size you up before seemingly conceding the point with a shrug. “And the eye?” He covered his left eye to illustrate. “Is that for a bit or something?” 

Your stomach twisted with a familiar lurch. Disgust. Shame. Phantom light in the dark. “It’s not.” 

“How’d you lose it?” 

“I didn’t… lose it.” 

“It’s still in there?” he asked excitedly, stepping forward and reaching to remove the bandana. “I have got to see this.” 

“No, please—please don’t,” you begged, trying to wriggle away from his hand. Pinned to the board with your hands bound above your head, there was nowhere to go. “Please don’t, please-” 

“Come on,” Buggy said, indifferent to your pleas as he pulled the sweat soaked fabric off of your left eye. “How bad could it be—AH!” He yelled in horror, jumping away as if you’d bitten him. 

The bandana hit the floor, leaving your ruined eye and its jagged scar exposed. You couldn’t hide. All you could do was flinch back, turning your head away. “I’m sorry,” you said, ready to continue apologizing before you realized that his shock had immediately dissolved into raucous laughter. “Why are you… why are you laughing?” you asked, pulling desperately against the chains. 

“I got you good,” Buggy said, his laughter subsiding. “The way you reacted, I thought that you’d be completely deformed. A real sideshow. But this…” He grabbed your chin, forcing it to the side so he could get a better look. “I couldn’t charge for this.”

“Please stop,” you begged, shaking off his grip and staring hard at his shoulder. 

“Ohhh. You’re really embarrassed about it.”

You didn’t say anything, focusing mostly on fighting the tears. 

“Okay, alright, yeah,” Buggy said, stepping back. “I think I’m starting to get why you would risk life and limb to beg me for a job. You grew up as a cute girl in a shithole town like this. A big fish in a little pond, as they say. Then, suddenly, BAM, you’re deformed, and, sure, they all say that it was tragic, but the truth is that they can’t stand to look at you. Even the people who loved you, the people you trusted, think you’re a freak. They abandoned you. So, without any other options, you come to me, pleading for me to give you a place amidst your fellow freaks. That about it?”

You didn’t say anything—what could you say to that?— which Buggy seemed to take as confirmation, nodding thoughtfully. 

“Well, go big or go home, right? As far as a starlet’s breakout role, you couldn’t go any bigger. Thing is, I’m not really looking for new acts. Not to mention your abysmal audition.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth, looking you up and down again. 

You could feel your chance slipping away. Just like that. Go big or go home, that’s what he said. 

“Please, Captain Buggy,” you begged, staring him in the eye despite how disquieting it was, despite how your skin crawled from exposing your left eye to somebody. Addressing him properly, at the very least, got his attention. “I promise that you won’t regret it. I’ll learn, I want to learn how to be a pirate, how to perform, all of it, everything. And if I can’t, I’ll do laundry and clean and cook, I have lots of experience with that. I don’t care what you ask me to do, if you let me join your crew, I’ll happily serve you for the rest of my life.”

Buggy didn’t respond right away. You thought—hoped—that it meant he understood how serious you were, but his expression gave you nothing. There wasn’t much light in the room in the first place, but somehow he found enough to shine unnervingly in his pale blue eyes. Somebody with a bright red clown nose shouldn’t have been able to look so intimidating, but the way he studied you burned with an uncomfortable intensity. It had been a while since anybody looked at you so frankly, so openly, without disgust or pity. 

“Why?” he finally asked. 

“Why…?” you repeated, confused.

“I get that you want to leave this place, and I even buy into your whole wanting to be a pirate thing, but, you know, aside from the obvious,” he gestured to himself, “why should I believe that you really want to serve me? You’re young and cute…ish, don’t you want freedom and empowerment and all those other things girls go on and on about?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I?” 

A moment of quiet that wasn’t quite silence but twice as heavy passed before a slow smile began to spread over Buggy’s face, and then—of all the bizarre, uncomfortable responses he could have—he laughed. “Oh, you’re broken, aren’t you?” he asked, clearly overjoyed by the revelation. “Well, I’m sold. I’ll have to start you on probation just in case you’re secretly up to no good. But, after that, you can audition for real. I’m sure I can find something you’ll be useful for.” 

His reaction gave you whiplash. The word ‘broken’ was obviously bad, but everything else was good. You had succeeded. Only, you didn’t know why. You were still trying to decide if being called cute-ish was a compliment or not. 

“Hey, just one more thing, okay?” Buggy asked, tapping your cheek. Standing mere inches away, he smiled a rictus grin. It wrinkled his eyes, but they were without life or pity or mercy. “If you’re lying to me about anything, I’ll carve some symmetry into your cute little face. You’ll thank me for it too. You won’t want to see what the guys will do to you after I toss you out there.”

“I’m not lying,” you said softly, shrinking back. “I promise.” 

“Great!” Buggy said, his demeanor immediately cheering up. “Let’s get you down.” He walked behind the board you were strung up on, and you let out a shaky exhale. “Brace yourself,” he called. You had no idea what that meant, or how you were supposed to brace yourself when there was nothing for you to brace yourself on. “Three… two…” 

He undid the lock, and the chains keeping you bound to the board went slack. You dropped hard, your limbs as heavy as lead. Luckily, your head was too light to feel anything when you hit the ground with a dull thump and the loud cacophony of rattling chains, spinning and blank and utterly empty. There was a suspended moment of floating, lighter than air itself. And then you were blinking rapidly and nauseous, pain shooting up your arms and knees. 

Buggy dropped a key in front of you, metal bouncing on the old concrete. 

“Unfortunately we didn’t bring any real props with us, so I had to improvise,” he said. With numb fingers, you grabbed the key and worked it into the locked cuff around your wrist. “You lucked out, if this were the real Wheel of Death, you’d be blowing chunks!” He paused, looking down at you. “Can you hurry this up?”

“Sorry,” you said. Your shaking hands kept missing the keyholes, but you finally got the last lock on your ankle open. The cuffs hadn’t broken skin, but your wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, ugly bruises already developing. You’d had worse.

“Alright, upsy daisy,” Buggy said, crouching down to take the key away and grab the only chain you hadn’t gotten out of—the one around your neck. 

It acted as a noose, giving you no other choice but to lurch upward with an unappealing choking sound, your head spinning all over again, the weightless itch tingling all the way down to the base of your spine. You stumbled forward, unintentionally falling against him. 

“Holy shit,” Buggy exclaimed, helping you stand up straight with a hand on your shoulder. “I didn’t know girls came in fun size. Legally, at least. Are you sure you’re not just like… the maxiest midget?” 

“‘m dizzy,” you muttered, swaying despite his support. 

“That’s not really… Ah, whatever. Hey, at least if you fall, you don’t have that far to go.”

“I’m… I’m okay,” you finally said, which was mostly true. Breathing slow, steady breaths helped, and then you shook your head a little. The bump on the back of it throbbed painfully, and you’d have bruises on your knees the size of apples, but you would survive. You were still trying to get control over your body. It was heavy and unwieldy, although part of that must have been the exhaustion. 

“If you need to vomit, make sure to aim away from me,” he said. That was about all the warning you got before he decided it was time to go, dragging you along behind him like a dog on a leash. 

You realized you were leaving your bandana behind, your left eye uncovered, and reared back, trying to stop him. “Wait, I have to grab my-” 

“No time,” he said, talking over you and tugging again at the chain. 

There was nothing you could do but stumble over your own feet to keep up with him as he led you through the cluttered and dark storage area. You felt a tiny bit of relief that you were still in the familiar decaying buildings northside. The old warehouses were dark, dank, and dingy. Easily defended and difficult to navigate, perfect for criminals to hide out in. You knew them very well, and that helped orient you.  

"As I’m sure you noticed, I’m running a bit of a skeleton crew here. The rest aren’t coming ‘til the grand finale,” Buggy said, leading you into the main warehouse space by the chain around your neck like it was completely normal. The awful smell of rot and decay was only compounded by a sickly sweet, chalky scent you didn’t recognize. Gray sunshine flooded in through the broken windows around the high ceilings, piercingly bright. “And after that, we’re gonna blow this town.”

You didn’t respond, growing even more skittish. The two of you drew the attention of the people scattered around. Some were lounging, others were training. All of them turned to look at you, watching with the dark, focused stare of hungry dogs. Colorfully dressed, very dangerous dogs. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an introduction to make!” Buggy called in a loud enough voice to fill the large space. “Crew, new girl. New girl, crew. Make sure to give her a nice, warm welcome." None of them spoke or reacted, watching you with varying degrees of hostility. Buggy pulled you forward a few steps so he could whisper to you. “See that guy?” he asked, pointing to a bald man with square features and an especially dark glare. “That’s Ivo. He was the one who caught you. To be completely honest, I think he’s still a little angry that he didn't get to keep you. If I were you, I’d try to stay on his good side.”

“How?” you asked, your uneasy stomach sinking further, but Buggy was already preoccupied with something else. 

“Oh, hey-” he called, flagging down a woman who was leaning against one of the steel supports. You stumbled behind him, holding the chain around your neck to ease the pressure. “Crina, I have got a very important job for you.” 

The woman slowly looked from Buggy to you, giving you a weighty once-over with dark, kohl-lined eyes. Her clothes were different from the rest, draped with beads and loose and layered in shades of purple. Beneath the mystique, however, you felt the same hardness you recognized in all the pirate’s faces. “You want me to look after the little rat,” she said with an accent you didn’t recognize.

"God, it’s like you can read minds or something,” Buggy said, laughing. “Anyway, yes. Make sure she doesn’t get up to anything naughty while I’m gone. In fact, don’t let her out of your sight.” 

“With all due respect,” Crina said, “why not just kill her?” 

“Because I don’t want her dead,” Buggy snapped, suddenly irritated. If Crina was surprised or off put by the abrupt change of his mood, she didn’t show it. 

“Of course, captain.”  

“I thought I saw some cages over there,” Buggy said, gesturing vaguely and forcing the chain into Crina’s hand. “Stick her in one of those. In the back, away from any prying eyes.”  

“A cage?” you asked.

“As fun as it is to see you all chained up,” Buggy said. “I worry that it might send the wrong message. Out of sight, out of mind—I don’t need you distracting my crew. They’re planning a very big surprise party. If you behave, I might be able to find some time for you later. Sound good?” 

You nodded, almost surprised by how good that sounded. He ruffled your hair before turning away, barking orders to some of the men. 

“Let’s go,” Crina said, pulling your attention back to her. “We have our orders.”

The cage Crina put you in, one out of several bolted to the floor in the corner out of the way from the main space, had just enough room for you to sit slouched, or lay curled on your side, meant for big dogs or small humans. There was a market for both, and you knew that this warehouse had likely housed both. 

The old, dilapidated buildings had been out of use for a long time, as long as you could remember. Barley Village had been originally built to be close to the mineral deposits, but as those dried up and industry trended towards the water, southward expansion left all of the old buildings empty and rotting. There was always talk about tearing them down, but it was only ever talk. One time you were told that some people wanted to keep the buildings available to people who wished for some privacy. But when you asked your dad if that was true, he got angry, telling you that was a lie, that he would never let that happen. He said it would just be too expensive to take them down, and that there was really no point in it.

But he also told you to never, ever spend time northside. Of all of the rules he gave you, that was the only one you ever truly disobeyed. You had no idea how many times you had gotten in trouble for playing here, climbing up rusted stairs and crossing the support beams up by the ceiling, using rocks to knock out the jagged edges of broken glass from the windows so you could go onto the rooftops. Your health problems made it difficult, and sometimes impossible, but you were patient. Plus, that had been before the accident, when your coordination was still good.

Back then, you didn’t worry about the many dangers that lurked here, and you certainly didn’t believe you could be hurt. You were too entranced by the world you created for yourself. The only thing you worried about was the beatings you earned when you got caught. Dad used to tell you that if you kept disobeying him by going northside, you’d wind up locked in one of these cages—or worse. It took you a while to think of the word, because it wasn’t funny, but it also was. Ironic. It was ironic.

You couldn’t even imagine what kind of reaction he would have to what you had done now, what punishment you would earn. It would be bad. You knew it would be very bad. 

Better not to think about it. Falling unconscious after being hit on the head was the most you had slept for the previous two days. It was the level of exhaustion that you could be staring down the business end of a sword with indifferent, sleepy eyes. Being locked up was bad, very bad, but you were content to lay listlessly on your side.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because you weren’t entirely conscious when somebody kicked the front of your cage. “Hey, wake up.” Your physical response was to startle, jolting you awake enough to flinch away from the violence. But it was only Crina who crouched in front of the cage. “I have food for you. And medicine for the headache. I’m going let you out, and I suggest you don’t try to run. If the guys get a hold of you, I won’t stop them.”

“I won’t run,” you told her, your voice hoarse, your eyes fixed on what she had brought. A bowl of something that looked like stew and a bottle. More than food, you wanted water. Crina undid the lock and you shuffled out of the cage. Your head spun just as badly as it had when you dropped onto the floor earlier, your vision crawling with darkness and stomach heaving unhappily. She was right about the headache. It wasn’t a pain you ever got used to, no matter how many days you spent laid out from one. After an uneasy moment, you sat on the floor, grabbing the water and eagerly uncapping it. 

“Hand,” Crina said, holding out a glass bottle. You allowed her to shake two capsules into your palm, tossing them into your mouth before taking in a blessedly wet mouthful of water. It soothed your tongue and throat like a salve, although you knew your stomach wouldn’t be quite so happy to receive anything. The stew’s scent alone made your stomach clench and churn with equal parts hunger and nausea. Slow. You had to take it slow. 

“Thank you,” you told her, picking up the bowl. She’d brought a wrapped sailor’s biscuit to eat it with. Not very appetizing, but you hadn’t eaten much more than you slept. It could have been saw dust and you would have been grateful. 

“I have your bag,” she said to fill the silence as you ate, pushing the limp canvas towards you. “They took anything that looked valuable, but your clothes are all there. They need to be washed. I’ll lend you something to wear in the meantime.”

Since your mouth was full, you nodded your thanks.

“While you eat, I’m going to talk. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Crina said. “You don’t strike me as the talkative type.”

She didn’t say that in an accusatory tone, but it still caused your heart to skip with anxiety. The fear had to be irrational, it wasn’t as if you had lied to Captain Buggy, so what did you have to worry about? Besides, only the guilty feared scrutiny, that was a favored line of your dad’s. 

“There’s a man in town asking if anyone has seen a girl. Petite. Missing an eye. Mentally unwell. He’s concerned that she might have gotten lost somewhere,” Crina told you. “From what I gather, her father is a pillar of the community. They’re all very worried.” 

You averted your gaze, anxiously pulling your hair to cover your left eye. Of course Randall would be looking for you, although you had hoped you would have more time before he noticed your absence. It didn’t matter that you left in such a way to raise as little suspicion as possible, or that you were an adult, or that you didn’t want to be found. Your dad asked him to be your keeper while he was gone, and Randall did as your father said. Everybody did. 

“Finish your food,” Crina prompted. “It’s worse when it’s cold.” 

Right. You started eating again, your movements mechanical. She said nothing, and you had nothing to say. 

“Everybody has their reasons for turning to piracy, and they’re not always pleasant,” Crina suddenly said. “Unless it interferes with my own business, I don’t care about who you were and why you ran away. It was a stupid choice, I think you know that. I won’t try and convince you to leave. Buggy seems to like you, so you wouldn’t be able to go anyway. But you need to understand that there will be consequences. The life you had before, no matter how terrible, did not prepare you for the life you’ve thrown yourself into.”

You stared hard at the bowl, thinking about that. It was true, you had to accept that you had blindly stumbled into a world you knew nothing about. But what choice did you have? The things that led you to this point were arranged like the rusty, creaky rungs of a ladder scaling the side of a building. Climbing up had always been the easy part, it was the inevitable descent that gave you trouble. You had to go slow, one rung at a time, blindly feeling with your toes, holding on with sweaty fingers, not looking up and not looking down because once you were on the ladder, you could only keep going. The first rung was spotting the Buggy Pirates, which you only did because you were sulking around the docks after seeing your father off on his trip. You only recognized the crew because your dad kept track of pirate captains with significant bounties. You only had the courage to sneak away from your house because dad was too far away to stop you. You only had the ability to scope out Buggy’s temporary hideout because of how much time you spent northside when you were younger. Those things all connected and followed so naturally and you didn’t know if fate existed, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t have wound up here on your own volition. It wasn’t a choice you made, it was the only way to get down from the roof that you had been stranded on for so long.

“I’ll give you some advice,” Crina continued, her tone lighter, “and I suggest you listen. You’re young and pretty, and you wouldn’t be the first to try and use that to get an advantage. It might work for a while, but men will get bored and your looks will fade. Before long you’ll be spat out into a cheap whorehouse with a couple of children you can’t afford and a hell of a rash.” 

The whiplash from your thoughts to the conclusion she had drawn made your stomach twist with disgust. “No,” you said. Was that what she thought of you? Even if the idea was utterly ridiculous, shame rolled uncomfortable through you. “I would never—I could never ever do that.” 

“Don’t be naive,” Crina said, rolling her eyes. “The boys you’re used to are disgusted by that scar, but the kind of men you’ll meet from now on won’t be. If your low self-esteem dictates who you let between your legs, you’ll find yourself in the gutter. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t sleep with men to get an advantage if that’s an option, only that you must be smart about it.” 

You pulled your hair forward again, shaking your head clear of what she was saying. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t the assumption that men would be repulsed by your scar—which they would be, you knew that—but that you didn’t have it in you to invite or manipulate male attention. In so many ways you were already ruined, but to stoop down to letting other men touch you would be too far, it would destroy you.

“Assuming you live past tomorrow night,” Crina continued, “get a knife and figure out how to use it. The men aren’t going to accept you as a member of the crew until you prove yourself. So if anybody gets too close, you prove yourself with blood.” 

“Do you think they’ll try to hurt me?” 

“I think you look like an easy target,” she said. “And I know you have no concept of self preservation or defense.”

“Yes, I do,” you said, frowning. You had made it this far, after all. That was more than anybody would have thought of you. 

“You don’t,” she said plainly. “The tablets I gave you are for treating pain, but imagine if they weren’t. You didn’t so much as ask me to clarify what they were.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, and closed it, shame squeezing your throat. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“It might not matter anyway,” she said, “depending on Buggy’s reasons for keeping you.”

“What do you mean?” 

Crina gave you a long, pitying look and you could tell there was something she wanted to say, something she was holding back. Eventually she shrugged. “That is between the two of you.”

You wanted to push for more, confused by the cryptic answer, but you didn’t. You could tell by the hard look on her face that she wouldn’t tell you anyway. 

“One more thing. The most important thing,” Crina told you, leaning close so she could whisper. “Never, ever mention the captain’s nose. In fact, never mention noses at all.” 

“His nose?” you repeated softly. “Is it… is it real?” 

“What did I just say?” she asked sharply. “He killed a few of the last new recruits for saying something that sounded like nose while he was in a bad mood.”

“He… killed them?” you asked. 

“Buggy is a very temperamental man,” she said, leaning back. “Try not to get on his bad side.”

“It sounds like you don’t like him.” 

“I do, actually. God knows why. Are you finished?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Come on then,” Crina told you, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. “There’s running water on the other side. I’ll keep watch so you can clean up.”   

Although birds called and the breeze carried all sorts of noises from Barley Village, none of it really reached the northside. A solemn graveyard hush settled heavy between the wreckage of ruined buildings, drafty even in broad daylight. No ghosts hid in the shadows, no historical tragedy marred its name, but there remained the haunted imprint of people who were no longer around. 

Before setting you on your task of the day, Crina had given you a dress of hers to wear while your own clothes dried in the sun. You swam in it, but a sash at the waist made the fit look somewhat intentional and the long sleeves hid the ugly bruises cuffing your wrists. That, combined with having slept the previous night and most of the day, left you feeling oddly refreshed. Sure, all of the sleep had been in a cage and the only ‘bath’ you had was a couple of minutes alone with a spout that spat freezing water and a washcloth, but it was better than yesterday. Better than the day before that too, save for the bruises and big goose egg bump on the back of your head.  

Despite the headache, you were glad to be given something to do. The task wasn’t difficult. Busywork that kept you out of the way. Checking to ensure that everything which would be loaded on the ship was documented, organized, and ready for transport. It wasn’t entirely unlike what you had done in the past and, you imagined, would be doing in the future. It was, however, the opposite way around. The goods were obviously looted, you were creating a list to know exactly what and how much of it had been stolen. 

Vinegar, oil, wax.

You used the end of the pen to scratch beneath your bandana, which Crina had kindly retrieved for you. Sometimes the scar got itchy, like it had when it was healing. 

Twine, needles, thread. 

There was a particular smell to supply crates like these. Something to do with the place they were stored, or where they were made. Even now, years since you had been on a ship, it was overwhelmingly familiar. It made your stomach ache and chest clench, although you weren’t sure which quality of the scent was so unsettling. 

You scratched the scar again.

Vinegar, oil- 

Wait, you had already done that. Annoyed, you crossed out those words and crouched down to get into the next crate. Rope. It was coiled in tight loops like a huge snake, coarse beneath your fingers. Anything that was strong enough to endure the fury of the sea had to be coarse. Good rope was vital on a ship, you knew that even with your limited experience. Touching it reminded you of the time your dad tried to show you how to tie knots, and then subsequently had to treat your rope burn.

What would he think when he returned? Retired Marine or not, he was deeply involved with northside business and law. Missing supplies, missing daughter. Sometimes you felt an acidic sort of pleasure when imagining his reaction to your absence, but usually it was just dread.

Or worse. Prickling paranoia. You could run, for a time. But that was all it was. Running. He used to be a Marine, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find you. When you were younger, the thought gave you comfort. 

But you didn’t want to think about that. Not at all. Not ever again. You stared very hard at the rope, desperate to put those thoughts out of your mind. 

You stared and stared and stared and-

Somebody grabbed you around the bicep, dragging you to your feet and forcing you back to reality. Yelping in fear, you were nearly knocked back down from the bloodrush dizziness of standing up too fast, saved only by the crates. 

“Good god, girl,” the unfamiliar man said, taking a step back, clearly put off by your reaction. “Are you deaf or something? I hollered at you three or four times. Were you sleeping?” 

Putting a hand to your racing heart, you looked from him to the still open crate and the notepad you had abandoned mid-task. You had no idea how long you had been sitting there. Long enough for your foot to go numb, prickling with pins and needles now that you were standing up. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him.

“The captain wants to see you. It’s urgent,” he said. When you didn’t immediately respond, still orienting yourself, he sighed impatiently and grabbed your elbow, physically dragging you away. You stumbled to keep up, trying very hard to avoid falling. “If Buggy asks why you took so long, you better tell him it was your fault.”

“I will,” you said to appease him, attempting to shake off his hand before realizing that it was pointless. “Please slow down.” 

“Not my fault you’ve got stumpy legs,” he said. “Keep up.” 

The unfairness of that stung, but you didn’t have much choice. You had a feeling that he’d keep on pulling you along even if it meant dragging you across the ground. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, embarrassingly out of breath. 

“There,” he said, nodding to one of the waterfront buildings. At least it was close. You never strayed so close to the water, the buildings were too squat to make for fun exploration and too exposed to give cover. 

The pirate released you when you got to the door, leaving you winded and scared. You adjusted your bandana and tried to catch your breath. “Don’t forget to tell him it was your fault it took so long, not mine,” he said, opening the door.

“I won’t,” you promised, the words papery thin on your dry tongue.  

You were in trouble. You had no idea what you might have done, but there had to be something. Why would you be summoned like this otherwise? A very bad feeling pressed against your sternum, but you forced yourself to walk forward. The door shut behind you. Inside, the air was dark and cool and wet, sending a little shiver down your spine. 

Buggy stood in the middle of the room, the only place where the sun found its way between the mangled teeth of glass and steel that used to be windows, his own little spotlight amidst the ruins. There were three other men on the edges of the light, their backs to you. One of them was bound. You did not like this. 

“There she is!” Buggy exclaimed, inviting you forward with his arms spread wide. “Come on, don’t be shy. Especially not after keeping us waiting so long. Your friend over here could hardly handle the suspense. 

Rocks and broken glass crunched beneath your feet as you approached them. Once you got close enough, finally, you could see the faces of the other men. One was the square-featured, angry man Buggy called Ivo. Another, a man you didn’t know. And the third, the one bound with a busted lip and developing black eye—

Randall called your name, trying to escape and rush to your side. Ivo grabbed him, pressing the blade of his knife against his throat.

“See, I told you, they’re working together,” Ivo said, glaring at you. “She tipped him off. No doubt this place will be swarming with the law before long.”

You stood completely still, staring at Randall with the steadily rising tide of panic sloshing in your stomach. After everything you had done to misdirect him, the note you left to beg he didn’t follow, the trouble you had put yourself through to keep from being seen, he was still here. 

“Are you okay?” Randall asked, looking you up and down frantically, concerned in a way he never had looked before. “Did they hurt you?” 

“I told you, she’s fine,” Buggy said with a grin. “I mean, yeah, Ivo over there did give her a little knock on the ole noggin—a love tap, really—but the eye was already like that when we found her.” 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Randall said, glaring at Buggy. 

“Shut up,” Ivo said, pressing the knife close enough to Randall’s throat that it broke skin. 

“No, no, let him go,” Buggy ordered casually, waving his hand. “He’s not gonna do anything stupid.” He threw an arm around your shoulder. “Not when I’ve got her.” 

Ivo reluctantly complied, releasing Randall. He watched you intently, and you knew what he was thinking. How could he save you?  

“Ivo over there thinks that the two of you are working together,” Buggy told you, smiling. His arm was heavy around your shoulders, oppressively so. “He thinks that we should kill you both.” 

“I’m not—I wouldn’t,” you told him. 

“And see, I wanna believe you. I really do. But he’s not talking, and,” Buggy ran his finger over your right cheek, reminding you of his threat from yesterday, “I’m starting to worry you’ve been lying to me.”

“I’m not,” you said, ice cold dread dripping into your veins a drop at a time. You fought your discomfort and forced yourself to meet his eyes, hoping he could see your sincerity. “I promise I’m not.” 

“Then how did he find this place?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“She used to hide here when we were kids,” Randall answered. “I thought she ran away, not that you freaks had kidnapped her. If I had known I’d find pirates here, I would have come armed.”

“Is that true?” Buggy asked you, pulling you even closer. Close enough to be embarrassing, to give the wrong impression, especially when he was stroking your cheek with a sort of affection that didn’t mesh with the danger in his blue eyes.

“I told you it is. Let her go, clown!” Randall shouted. His voice was loud enough to echo, and harsh enough to make you wince. That sort of rage wasn’t one you expected from him, but it was familiar all the same. 

“Oh, wow,” Buggy said with a laugh, looking up at him. “Is that jealousy I hear? She didn’t tell me she was leaving behind a boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said softly, your insides twisting at the thought. 

“Really?” Buggy asked. He shrugged, and looked at Randall. “If you’re not doing this because you want to have sex with her, why are you here?” 

“I am a dear friend—both to her and her dad,” Randall answered. “He asked me to look after her because she… She’s not in a sound state of mind. And she’s the only family he has left. Without her, he’ll have nothing.” He grit his teeth. “Take me, kill me if you’re that thirsty for blood, but let her go. Please.”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but she came here all on her own,” Buggy said, releasing you to approach him instead. “She begged to join my crew, got down on her knees and told me that she would be happy to serve me for the rest of her life. It was the most adorable thing.”

“No,” Randall said, his face twisting with disgust. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.”

“Ask her yourself,” Buggy invited, stepping aside and sweeping out his arm. All eyes landed on you like a spotlight. Blood rushed in your ears, and you felt dizzy with it, ready to pass out on the spot. When you looked at Buggy, he smiled and nodded encouragingly. 

“It’s true,” you said.

“No. That is impossible,” Randall said. “This is insane. You are mad, you cannot make decisions like this for yourself.” You stared at his feet, your hands balled into fists. You were not crazy. You were not. That had to be true. “Whatever hysterics brought you here, give it up. These are pirates.”

“I’m a pirate too,” you declared, your hands forming fists at your sides. You weren’t crazy, or mad. You were thinking very clearly, more than you had in a while. 

“No, you are your father’s daughter,” Randall insisted, loud enough to make you flinch. “Can you imagine the agony he would feel hearing you say that?”

Your breathing was too fast, rapid enough to make your head spin. You kept shaking your head, tears flying off of your cheek, but you couldn’t recall when you had begun to cry. “I don’t care.” 

“Don’t care…? This bastard has already gotten into your head,” Randall said. “He has poisoned your broken mind with his lies and manipulations, please don’t let this go any further.”

You shook your head again, but there was nothing you could think of to say. You didn’t want to talk anymore, you just wanted this to be over. 

“Believe me, as much as I would love to claim otherwise, I had nothing to do with this,” Buggy said, raising his hands innocently. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Think about what would drive a girl like this into the arms of a pirate. A broken heart, maybe? Was that your doing, lover boy? Did you break her heart? Make her feel like she wasn’t good enough?” 

“Keep your big goddamned nose out of our business, clown,” Randall said. 

The other pirates audibly gasped, and you could feel the sudden zap of tension in the air. Buggy’s taunting smile froze in place, his posture icing over like a statue. And then, a second later, he was rushing at Randall, burying his fist in the other man’s stomach. Randall crumpled onto his knees with a heavy grunt and you waited for something else, something worse. Crina said that Buggy had killed over jokes about his nose, and, right then, you believed it.

Nothing happened. You watched, frozen, as Buggy breathed in deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with it, and then he raised a hand.  

“New girl,” he called, snapping to beckon you closer. You obliged, rushing to his side. He didn’t look angry, not like you feared he would. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean smile, a frightening one. But a smile all the same. “Are you ready for your big moment?”   

“What?” 

“Your audition! I thought of the perfect act for you. Kill him.” 

You looked down at Randall, he was clearly still in pain, his eyes watering as he looked up at you. “I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head again.  

“You can and will. Assuming you want to remain on my crew. Otherwise I’ll kill him and you’ll have to explain to daddy why prince charming was here in the first place.” He held out his hand towards Ivo. “Knife.” When he got it, Buggy flipped the knife handle first, holding it to you with a flourish. “You’re up, babydoll.”

“She won’t do it, clown,” Randall said through grit teeth. 

“Of course she will,” Buggy said. “For me.” 

As if moving through the dusky haze of a dream, you took the knife, wrapping your sweaty hand around the grip. The way Buggy smiled in response made your heart flutter, something to cling to amidst the horror and disgust. It didn’t feel real anymore. How could it be real? 

“I don’t know what to do.” Were those your words? Your voice?

Buggy laughed. “Of course you don’t,” he said, circling behind Randall. “C’mere, I’ll help you.” 

Randall was shouting and pleading, but Buggy had grabbed a fistfull of his hair to keep him from escaping. 

“You’ve gotta hold him still,” Buggy told you. “Like this, see?”  

“-don’t do this, please. You can’t… I love you!” 

You got a fistful of Randall’s hair, making him cry out in pain. There was no pleasure in the sound, only a roiling sense of disgust. It would be better when he was dead, and then he wouldn’t be in pain. 

“God you’re short,” Buggy said as he adjusted you into place, right between him and Randall. “You’ll be better off going for their ankles.” He wrapped his hand around yours, getting a good grip on the knife and holding it still. 

“-when he gets bored of fucking you. That’s all pirates do, rape and murder. You’ll never be one of them, you’ll just-”

“Start on one side and move to the other, easy as that,” Buggy said comfortingly, resting his chin against the side of your head. 

“-he doesn’t kill you, your dad will. Do you really think you’ll ever be able to hide from him?” 

Moving slowly, through a dream, you put the knife on the left side of Randall’s neck. It was no different from what a butcher did, really. 

Breath in. Pull. You instinctively locked up at the sound of Randall’s screams and the resistance of his flesh, but Buggy forced your hand, pulling the blade deep into his neck and then fast to the side. The knife got caught part way through, stuck in something hard. You tried to saw through it and Randall made an inhuman noise of agony. Buggy had to help you unstick it, to follow through until the knife slashed that horrifying scream short and then there was just a sort of gurgling sound and you didn’t know if it was because he was still alive or if it was an automatic process. 

There was so much blood, and it was hot, burning you. For some reason, you hadn’t anticipated the messy scarlet spray. From the deep slice came more blood. More, and more still. Randall’s heavy, limp body dropped onto the floor into a puddle of it, although you weren’t sure when you let go of his hair. Buggy released your hand, but you didn’t drop the knife, holding it in a death grip as blood streamed like red veins down your hand and wrist, down the blade and all the way to its tip before dripping to the dirty floor. The tang of iron filled your lungs. You shook all over, all the way down inside, your bones and organs shivering. It was your heart. It pounded frantically, like butterfly wings. And your breathing. Wheezing, gasping, gurgling like Randall’s had before he fell.

Your mouth opened to exhale, but there was nothing there. No air, no words. Nothing. Your cold gaze turned to look at Buggy, confused as to what you were supposed to do next. He had led you this far, but now you were lost. He smiled, and laughed, and took the knife away from you, tossing it to the side where it clanged and slid away. 

And then he folded you into his arms, your head pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was firm and steady, and he was so warm. He smelled of gunpowder and salty sea air and greasepaint and the natural warm scent of his skin. You clung to that, breathing in deep to excise the scent of blood. 

“Congratulations, babydoll,” Buggy told you. “Looks like you just got the part.” 

The first firecracker went off not long after the sun had gone down, kicking off the surprise party with an especially loud zip and then a bang and a bursting sizzle. “It’s a surprise party,” Buggy told you, his face illuminated by the flash of red. “As in, the people who live here are going to be so surprised by the party I’m throwing for my crew. Get it?” 

A chain of firecrackers followed the first, a show that the pirates set off amidst a barrage of explosions, lighting up the sky with brilliant colors and smoke, making the earth tremble beneath your feet. They acted as distraction and lure, drawing people further into the town and inviting the ship that had been lurking nearby to enter the harbor. 

And after that came the chaos. 

Many things happened that you were aware of, if only passively. Leaving the northside and then Barley Village, waiting at the dock, and then boarding the ship as men and women in colorful attire flooded the yard, overtaking the few armed guards. You were told to sit on the deck and wait, so you did. Aware of it all—noxious sulfur and smoke filling the air, thunderous claps of explosives, popping gunshots, screaming voices, roaring fires—but uninvolved. There was a sense of great quiet. Not outside where things were loud and violent and scary, but inside. You were very quiet on the inside. Far away from everything and everyone else. 

Blood flaked off of your skin, caking beneath the nails when you scratched your arm. It would have been nice to wash it off, but you didn’t know where you would go for that, and you didn’t want to get up.

“Yoo-hoo, is anybody in there?” 

A gloved hand waved in front of your face. 

You let out a hoarse scream, nearly tipping backwards from how violently you startled. It didn’t take long for you to realize how overblown the reaction was, Buggy’s laughter made the point quite clearly. 

“What was that?” he asked, almost laughing too hard to get the words out. He stood above you without his coat and hat, although he kept the striped headscarf, and a bottle tucked under his arm. 

“You scared me,” you told him, a hand on your racing heart.

“That noise you just made though,” he said, still laughing. “It sounded like one of those scream-y fireworks.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Your fault, not mine. I was trying to talk to you, but you just sat there. I thought it was your eye that didn’t work, not your ears.”

“I guess I… zoned out a little.” 

“No shit. Ah, that was good,” Buggy said as his laughter subsided. “I had no idea human beings could even make sounds like that.” Letting out a big breath to settle himself, he sat down next to you. Very close, far closer than you would have, almost touching. “Kinda makes me wonder what other kinds of sounds you can make.” 

“I know, it’s annoying,” you said, staring hard at the deck. “I’m sorry.” 

Buggy laughed at that too, shaking his head. “You really have no clue, do you?” he asked. “Is it weird that I’m into it?” 

“Into what?” you asked. “I’m sorry, I… don’t understand.” 

“I know you don’t, and that’s okay,” he said with a mocking sort of indulgence, patting your head. “Anyway, I had a little business in town and snagged this from some rich guy’s house.” He held up a bottle by the neck and swished its contents a little for effect. “We’re going to celebrate.” 

“Wouldn’t you rather be out there?” you asked, the first coherent question that came to your mind as it scrambled to make sense of what he had just said. 

“Between you and me, this,” Buggy said with a confidential hush, gesturing to your burning town, “isn’t my thing. It’s a reward for my freaks, gives ‘em an outlet to express themselves artistically. I prefer a more… performative platform. True art deserves a spotlight and an audience.” He waved that away, smiling. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you.” 

“Me?”

“You really impressed me earlier. I mean, yeah, your technique needs polish, and you’ve got no stage presence to speak of, but you displayed raw talent. I really think you have a shot at success, sweetheart. Stick with me, and I’ll make something out of you yet.” 

“Thank you,” you said softly, shying away from thinking about earlier. The praise though, that was heady. That made you feel warm. 

Buggy popped the cork off the bottle, taking a drink straight from it and smacking his lips appreciatively. “You like sweet things, right?” 

“I-” 

“You’ll love this then. Here, try it.” 

You eyed the bottle he was proffering to you warily. Alcohol was something you were familiar with, but you could count on your fingers the number of times you had actually tasted it. “I don’t know…” you said, trying to think of ways to reject drinking without seeming ungrateful.   

“You’re a pirate now, so you’ve gotta learn to drink like one,” Buggy told you, pushing it into your hand. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

You sniffed the open lip, surprised by the sweetness. It didn’t smell as strongly of alcohol as you feared. Not like what your father drank. Maybe it would be okay. Trying to avoid embarrassing yourself, you tipped the bottle back just like he had. That was a mistake. It didn’t smell like alcohol, but you could taste it—feel it, even. Panicked by your body’s natural response to expel it, you swallowed as much as you could, coughing out the rest. Red liquid drooled down your chin, staining the dress that was already ruined with dried blood. Buggy laughed. A little at first, and then a lot. 

Flushing, you wiped your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be like that. That was hilarious,” Buggy told you. You looked away, even more embarrassed. “Your face was priceless. You threw that back with the confidence of a real fire-hazard, saggy skinned, dead eyed alcoholic. You were so serious about it too, and then… Good lord.”

“I didn’t know!” you said, trying and failing not to sound shrill. 

“It’s okay, you’ve got me to help you now. Try it again, but don’t be so greedy. Baby sips.” 

“No, thank you,” you said, holding the bottle back to him. 

“Drink. That’s an order,” he said, pushing it back to you. 

That gave you pause. “Do you mean that?” you asked. 

He nodded, urging you on. 

Your shoulders drooped in defeat. Trepidatiously, you took a small sip. At least you didn’t hack it back up this time. While the taste was sweet, the burn was not. It rose up like smoke into your head, you could feel it.  

“What if I get drunk?” you asked. 

“Oh, you’re going to get drunk, captain’s orders,” Buggy said with a grin. “I can’t stand watching you sit around moping about killing that guy. Besides, you’re a pirate now.”

The little ball of anxiety deep in your gut doubled. This was wrong, you knew it was. Or maybe you were wrong, and Buggy was right. You didn’t know. 

“I don’t want to embarrass myself,” you muttered.

“As long as you don’t jump into the water or shit yourself, you’ll be fine…” You looked at him, horrified. “Joking! C’mon, I’ve taken good care of you so far, haven’t I? You’ll be fine.”

The way he laughed made you want to believe him. He was your captain now. You nodded seriously and, steeling yourself, took another drink. And another. 

“See? It’s good, right?” Buggy asked, holding out his hand for the bottle. 

You licked your lips, cleaning up the lingering sweetness. “It is. Thank you,” you said, unable to keep yourself from admiring the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the view unfortunately obscured by his cravat. 

The perverse thought took you by surprise. Was it the alcohol? Already, your head was spinning, your thoughts a little more disorganized. It wasn’t like the quiet, empty feeling of before. It was warm and distant, it made your shoulders relax, the anxiety and uncertainty of before fading. This was a good idea, you already felt so much better. When he passed the bottle back, you didn’t have to be prompted to imbibe, chasing that feeling.   

“I don’t mean to pry, but when that guy back there mentioned your dad, it really seemed to get to you,” Buggy said. “What, did daddy not love you? Or maybe he loved you a little too much.”

You didn’t want to talk about that. You didn’t want to think about it. You took another big drink. 

On the horizon, the town was utterly ablaze. As the night grew darker, the flames rose higher. Which building was burning so brightly? It belched thick, black smoke into the night sky. Who was in it? Anybody you knew?

“Don’t wanna talk about it, hm? That’s fine,” Buggy said, stealing the bottle back. “With any luck, my freaks’ll kill him tonight, eh? Then you’ll really be free.” 

“He’s gone right now,” you said, your words soft and slurring together. “Out of town.” What would he think of the smoldering ashes? Would he believe you had perished in the flame? Somehow, you doubted that. He would know what you had done. There was no chance of freedom, not for you. 

“That’s even better,” Buggy said.  

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to him, both in confusion and disbelief. “How?” 

“Because, babydoll,” Buggy told you, shaking your shoulder to make sure you were paying attention. “It’s good to have somebody to hate—somebody to prove wrong. He tried to convince you that you’re crazy, he tried to keep you from ever being yourself. That pain and anger made you weak. But you’re not weak anymore. Tonight, I showed you how to be strong. It’s not enough to tell those assholes that they’re wrong, you have to prove it to them. That’s what tonight was about, right? You proved to your dad, to everybody, that you’re stronger than they thought. And, hey, you proved it to me, too. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but I changed my mind.” He threw an arm around you, pulling you close. “I like you, kiddo. A lot.” 

“I like you too,” you said, relaxing into the little side hug, very aware of every place his bare arm met your bare shoulders and neck. The alcohol had stoked a nice blaze in your stomach and chest, making your head spin in a way you didn’t mind that much. Smoothing the colors, softening the air, making you want to lean into his touch, made you crave more of it. 

Buggy pulled away, leaving the bottle in your hands. You felt a little cold without him.  

“You know,” he said, smiling at you. The far off flames glinted mischievously in his eyes. The flaring reds and oranges highlighted his cheekbones too, defined the sharpness of his jaw. You were caught off guard by how viscerally you reacted to the thought that he was handsome, your filterless mind caught in an endless loop of focusing on the fact. “Burning down this shithole is nothing compared to what I will do. The towns I’ll raze to the ground, the treasure I’ll steal, the shows I’ll put on. Now that I’ve got a crew, I’m gonna put on a show like nobody’s ever seen. The biggest, flashiest, greatest show ever. Everybody will be screaming my name, recognize my face. I’ll shine so bright that they’ll have no choice but to love me. ” 

Buggy’s intensity made you smile, you couldn’t help it. Alcohol had created a cloudy burst of affection within you, or maybe it was just the floodgates of tension finally collapsing, letting out something that would have otherwise been smothered. Either way, it was as intoxicating as the drink itself. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Buggy asked, his tone filled with steel. You looked to see his dark expression, his narrowed eyes. 

“I’m not,” you said, confused by his rapid shift in demeanor. “I’m… I’m happy. I’ll do anything to help you.” 

He relaxed. “Well, you’d better start working on your act.” 

That made you laugh, a dizzy, bubbly sound. “I can’t do an act. I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

“There has to be something. Let me think… Can you sing?”

“I used to, a little. But not for a really long time.” 

“Come on, let me hear it.”

You were drunk, you knew that for a fact because in no state of sobriety would you offer to sing in front of another person. But, right then, bubbling with alcohol and protected by the darkness of the smoky night sky, you felt invincible. 

“Oh, what do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning? Slash his…um… something, something, captain’s daughter. Toss him in… to… the dirty water…” Whatever coherence you held onto unraveled into a fit of drunken laughter at the awful rhyme. “I’m sorry, I think… I think I forgot some of the words.”  

“Seems like you forgot the tune too,” Buggy said, wincing dramatically. All that did was make you laugh harder. “Hold on a second, let me wipe the blood out of my ears.” 

You swatted his shoulder, although your attempted indignance probably wasn’t very convincing when you were still smiling. “Don’t be mean!”

“That’s a bold way to treat your captain,” he told you, but he was smiling too. 

“Please don’t be mean to me, Captain Buggy,” you said, speaking slowly to emphasize how serious you were. 

“Beg me again.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he said, waving it off in a way that made you think he was making fun of you. “Anyway, I’m being nice right now, especially after that performance. The critics would eat you alive for that one. So, singing is out. Clearly. What else have you got?”

“Oh! I know a, um, a rhyme. A joke.” 

He looked at you skeptically. “Really?” 

“What is that s’posed to mean?” you asked.

“You don’t strike me as somebody with… How should I put this… A sense of humor?” 

You frowned. 

“Alright, alright, quit pouting and tell me,” Buggy said impatiently, waving you to continue. 

You cleared your throat very theatrically, sitting up as straight as you could manage. 

“There was a young lass who thought

Very little but thought it a lot.

Then at long last she knew

What she wanted to do,

But before she could start, she forgot.”

Deflating, you laughed, surprised at how clearly you had delivered the words. Especially considering how long it had been since you heard them. 

Buggy didn’t look nearly as impressed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a clean limerick before,” he said. “And now I know why. I mean, what’s the point of limerick without the ick.”

You blew a raspberry at him. “Fine, you do one.”

“Okay, but you have to prepare yourself,” Buggy said. You nodded encouragingly.

“There was a young plumber named Lee

Who was plumbing his girl by the sea.

She said, ‘Stop your plumbing,

There's somebody coming’

Said the plumber, still plumbing, ‘It's me.’"

Belatedly, you gasped, your hands covering your mouth. That shock dissolved into giggles. “That’s, oh, that’s… that’s dirty.”

“Aw, was it too much for your delicate sensibilities? Now that you’re a pirate, you’re gonna hear a lot worse than that. A looooooooot worse. I hope your unspoiled ears can handle it.”  

“I can!” you insisted, taking a big drink to steel yourself before setting the bottle aside. If you were going to be a pirate, you had to stop getting so flustered. “More. Please.” 

“Okay, okay…” Buggy cleared his throat. “A hooker roaming the East Blue, 

Once filled her vagina with glue, 

She said, with a grin, ‘Well, they paid to get in, 

And they’ll damn sure pay to get out, too.’”

You laughed loudly, as much at the joke as the taboo nature of it. You laughed, and then giggled in a bubbly, drunken way that you knew was too loud and embarrassing. “That is icky,” you told him. “Jeez, that’s…” Your faux seriousness dissolved into a fit of giggles again and you leaned against him for stability. “What would you even do?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know. It sounds like a sticky situation,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. That, of course, sent you into another fit of giggles. 

“I’m sorry, I’m…” you said. “I think I’m drunk.” You looked behind yourself at the town, the glittery haze of joy buzzing in your head fading at the sight. It was horrific, wasn’t it? And here you were, laughing like a fool. You couldn’t really comprehend the magnitude of it all, even if you could acknowledge that it was terrible. “Is it okay?” you asked, looking back at him imploringly. “Everything that happened tonight… I thought I would feel very different after, but I don’t. It almost feels like it’s not even real. You ever get that? When things happen but they feel so impossible that you get confused?”

“If you can think that clearly,” Buggy said, “then you’re not drunk enough. Bottoms up, babydoll.” You smiled at his use of the pet name and the fluttery feeling it gave you. What else could you do but oblige, tipping the bottle back like before. Only, unlike before, you kept it all down. There wasn’t any real burn, just more sweetness, more warmth. 

And then there was nothing left. 

“Woah,” you said, lowering the empty bottle and wiping your mouth. “‘s all gone.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a dizzy sort of laugh. “I dunno…” you said, closing your eye, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’m…” Already things were getting even more fuzzy and foggy. Fabric stuck to your flushed skin, the salty air drying across your chest and cheeks. “I feel… very…”

Making an upset noise in the back of your throat, you pushed your hair back, catching the bandana and pulling it off so you could feel the breeze on your whole face. That helped. Drawing in a deep breath, you looked at him, trying to focus. Only, the second you saw him, all you could do was smile. His eyes were greedy about the light, sparkling with it. Even with the nose, Buggy was handsome. That was not something you could tell him though, not at all ever. Unfortunately you had forgotten what you were saying in the first place. 

“Very… what?” Buggy asked. “‘Cause if you keep trying to be a buzzkill, I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

Were you a buzzkill? You couldn’t remember what you had said or done to earn that title. It was hard enough to comprehend what was happening in the moment. “Like what?” you asked.

“Like… this!” Buggy said, using the sash around your waist to pull you closer so he could tickle your sides. You jumped and squealed, the bottle rolling out of your hands as you tried to fight him off. 

“No no no, don’t,” you cried, trying to escape. You were being too loud, moving too much, acting like an idiot, but you didn’t have enough control to stop. 

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re laughing, aren’t you?” 

It was true, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, letting it out in panicked little bursts. Time had a bizarre elasticity to it, everything hitting you at once and fading just as fast. Laughing, sobbing, begging him to stop. It was easy to catch and hold onto one of his hands, but that left the other one free. And if you tried to catch that one instead, you had to release the first. There must have been a better way to do it, but you felt as if, bit by bit, particle by particle, the world was separating, the hot and humid air splitting, your limbs becoming loose, your capacity for rational thought dissipating like mist. 

Lacking any sort of control and with a completely undeserved sense of invulnerability, you tackled him. Buggy let it happen, still laughing. At least he had stopped. 

“God, it’s like being attacked by a drunk, one-eyed toddler,” he said. “What are you gonna do, whine me into submission?” 

“Don’t be mean,” you said seriously, your words ruined by something wavering between a laugh and a sob, or maybe it was just the drunken slur. 

“You attacked me. If anything, I'm the victim here.” 

“No! You started it!” 

“Hold on, are you… crying?” Buggy asked incredulously. “Aw, you poor thing. I mean, you were laughing so much, how could I have known you didn’t like it?” 

“I don’t!” you insisted. 

“To be clear,” he said. “You don’t like this?” He attacked your sides, not tickling so much as just teasing, but to the same effect. You yelped and sat up squirm away, swatting at his hands. 

Rather than laugh like before, Buggy groaned, his hips bucking up against you. A loud, harsh gasp left your mouth, your entire body going rigid from the liquid heat of friction, your thighs squeezing around him. At some point, your skirt had ridden up, your panties being the only barrier left. You didn’t think you had ever been as acutely aware of how achingly empty, electrically tingly, as you were right then. 

Bad. Very bad.

“Oh, there’s another fun noise,” Buggy said, laughing as he propped himself upright with his arms. “I can’t believe that got you.” 

“No,” you said quickly, dizzy from the intensity of your reaction and how close the two of you were. You could smell him, the sweat, the musk, the salt, the greasepaint, the gunpowder. You could see the glitter in his makeup, the fire catching in his eyes. “It jus’... surprised me.” 

“Is that why you’re shaking?” Buggy asked, rubbing your exposed thigh, the fabric of his glove catching the sensitive skin. 

“I’m… um…” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to organize the drunken slush of your brain. Being so close to him, feeling his body against yours, sent deviously tantalizing tingling sparks through you. And guilt. It was wrong, he wasn’t doing anything to invite those feelings, you were just being weird and drunk and embarrassing and you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. You’d have to tilt your head a lot, although the stubble would be more hazardous than his nose. The last time you kissed someone, you were both young enough that you didn’t have to navigate facial hair. And then there was the matter of the makeup. You tried to imagine what you might look like after, the slash of red and imprint of white. Maybe they’d mix into pink. You tried to force yourself to focus on something else, but you couldn’t meet his eyes either. Nervous and confused and filled with a million different feelings you had no name for, you squirmed again, thoughtlessly adding to the anxious feedback loop of heat and need and intoxicated emptiness. 

“You know, sweetheart, this reminds me,” Buggy said, “there’s still the matter of your physical. It’s standard procedure for new crew. We could get that over and done with while you’re… lubricated.”

“What’re you… talking about?”  

“I’ve gotta make sure you’re fit, healthy… Clean of anything you could pass on to the forty or so people you’re gonna be stuck with in an enclosed space for weeks at a time.”

“How d’you do that?” 

“You’ve been to a doctor, right? It’s kinda like that. I know it can feel a little invasive, so it might be better to do it while you’re drunk.”

“What…” you started to ask, but then Buggy shifted, his hips pushing up against you. The fresh wash of warmth it sent into your core scattered your mind, and you lost the already tenuous thread of thought. Your eyelashes fluttered, although you weren’t sure when you had closed your eye. “Umm…”

“Well, first,” he said, answering the question you hadn’t asked, “you’d have to take off your clothes. Then relax while I have a little look-see. It’s important that you stay as still as possible. I’ll have a hard time finishing if you can’t stop squirming around the whole time.” 

“Do you really have to?” you asked, your brow furrowing. It sounded embarrassing. But maybe if it was him, you didn’t mind? Your dad did all of your past medical check-ups so it wasn’t inherently wrong. But the thought of Buggy seeing you without clothes wasn’t exactly nice, you could only imagine his disgust. That was bad. 

“Depends on if you’re serious about being a pirate or not,” Buggy said.   

“I am serious!” you exclaimed. Your hands went to the sash around your waist to pull the bow free. If you did it quickly, you wouldn’t be as embarrassed. 

“Woah, wait. Holy shit,” Buggy said, “are you seriously—” He cracked up laughing, making you freeze. “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for that.”

“You’re… laughing,” you said, your fingers falling with the slow sink of humiliation. 

“You really were going to strip for me, out in the open and everything.” Buggy laughed harder, rocking forward. “I didn’t expect you to be so eager. Hey, if you really wanna get naked, I’m not going to stop you.” 

“I don’t, I just… I thought…” you said, pulling away from him and trying to get onto your feet to get away, embarrassment lighting the worst sort of fire within you.  

“Woah, calm down, it was just a joke,” Buggy said, his laughter fading. “You’re absolutely plastered, if you stand up, you’re gonna fall right back down.” You didn’t stop, resolute to get onto your feet and put some distance between you and him. “I won’t catch you.” 

“’m fine,” you told him. 

You finally got your footing and braced against your knee to lurch upright. For a second, you were standing up and weightless. And then you were nothing.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 1

AN: Bouncing off my walls in excitement. Happy New Year, and welcome to Kinkuary! Starting off the month with San, one of the biggest thorns in my side when it comes to Ateez. I've been itching to write something royalty related for him, and this was the perfect opportunity.

Synopsis: The crown prince is beloved by everyone in the kingdom far and wide. Unfortunately for him, you don't share that same fondness. However, that may be exactly why he seeks you out.

General tags and warnings: Choi San x Fem! Reader, one-sided enemies to enemies who fuck, royal au, no specific time period is mentioned but, it's heavily implied this takes place pre-20th century, prince! San, maid! Reader, one mention of decapitation in relation to treason, blood mentioned a few times, pretty minimal plot and I think that's it honestly.

Primary kink: Degradation.

Smut tags and warnings: Dom! Reader, sub! San, degradation ((duh) m. receiving), dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), clawing and marking (m. receiving), hair pulling (m. receiving), hints of a dacryphilia kink, piv sex without a condom, creampie and no aftercare.

Word count: 3.9k

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

It wouldn't be hyperbole to state that everyone in the kingdom loves Choi San.

In all the books and scraps of paper you've managed to get your hands on over the years, you're not sure you've ever come across a royal who has inspired more loyalty and adoration than the current crown prince. Not even the King and Queen who currently hold the throne. You'd never speak these thoughts out loud (you're much too fond of your head remaining attached to your shoulders) but, you think if he ever tried to make a claim for the throne that he'd have a solid portion of the kingdom willing to back him.

That's not the kind of man San is, though.

He's much too kind and honourable to let greed cloud that heart that so many people are in love with. No, he's the kind of prince that will do all of his duties while supporting his parents' reign. He'll patiently await his turn to sit atop that ghastly golden glorified chair like the good little princeling he is. And you're certain that when he does, the cheering through the streets will be so loud that it'll ring in your ears for decades.

It all makes you so sick.

You can't stand the way everyone falls all over themselves when he so much as nods in their direction with a gentle smile. You can't stand the stammers of thanks and praise from the lips of fellow royals to commoners such as yourself when he compliments this or that about them with so much earnestness that bile rises up in your throat. You can't stand the sincerity that sparkles in his eyes during his impassioned speeches about making the lives of his subjects better. You can't stand him.

It takes everything in you to stop yourself at clenching the fabric of your uniform and biting your tongue so hard that you sometimes taste the familiar tang of metal in your mouth when you know you've clenched your jaw too hard. Yunho says it's a bad habit you've developed over the years. He's never understood your disdain for the prince but, he doesn't need to. No one does. That's between you and yourself, and no one else.

Until it isn't.

If someone had told you months ago that you'd find yourself in the crown prince's bed, you would have laughed in their face. No, you likely would have slapped them across their face enough for your palm to burn and then laughed in their face like a woman possessed.

Any yet, here you are.

Or, to be more accurate, here he is.

In the most private parts of your mind you have been able to admit that San is an attractive man. Being in the same room as him is enough to cause your blood to simmer and bubble in your veins but, you are still a woman with eyes and a functioning libido. Between his muscles that seem to span endlessly and his handsome face, yeah. San is a good-looking man. And you suppose you're not above giving into your baser needs.

“You're late,” you drawl atop his bed, toying with the blanket beneath you. You try not to think about how just one of his sheets would likely keep your family fed for at least two weeks. Shoving that particular, unpleasant thought aside, you watch him from your position.

“My apologies. The meeting ran later than I expected. You know how my father can be–” if only the entire nation could see their precious crown prince rolling his eyes at the mere mention of his father.

“I don't care. Don't be late again,” you cut him off sharply, your eyes cutting into him far more harshly than your words ever could.

From the way he folds into himself and practically sags against his enormous bedroom door, you can tell he's already slipped into the self ascribed role he takes during these…encounters the two of you have.

“I won't be. I'm sorry,” ah, there's that whiney edge in his voice that you've become accustomed to over these past few months. He's slipping into it much quicker recently. The thought brings an edge of sadistic glee to you, the corners of your lips turning up just the slightest bit.

“Make sure the door is locked,” you order, drinking in the way he all but, jumps at your command. Sometimes, you think you understand why people wage wars and betray family members for just a drop of power. It is intoxicating. You've come to understand over these months why some people spend their entire lives grappling for it. Your ambitions aren't that grand, however. You don't care for sitting on the throne or ruling a nation. Having San at your beck and call is more than enough to feed your ego, you think.

Drinking in the way his jacket stretches across his broad frame as he locks his door makes your blood simmer in a way that is categorically different from normal. When he turns back around, his eyes already glossy, you can't help the way desire claws horribly at your insides and your walls throb.

“It's locked,” is all he says, the breathy quality to his voice not helping the gradually building ache between your thighs in the slightest. For a long moment, all you do is regard him. Ideas of what to do next rotate in your mind. You shift marginally, making yourself more comfortable on his mountain of silks and cotton. You don't miss the way his eyes follow your every movement, taking a second too long to depart from your thighs before they meet your eyes once again. Waiting.

He's so predictable that it reminds you why you despise him all over again.

“Take off your jacket,” you start simply, lounging on his bed while he complies. His jacket dropping unceremoniously onto one of his ridiculously ornate chairs. His shirt is so much worse than his jacket. Barely leaving anything to the imagination with the way it hugs his broad chest and clings to his arms in a way that prompts your thighs to rub against each other.

The air between the two of you is tense. The density of it is a phantom weight on your chest. You can't recall a single time where the air wasn't charged between the two of you even if your life depended on it. As Yunho likes to joke, you do have a knack for thriving in the most uncomfortable circumstances.

You elect to break it. Rather than for the poor princeling’s benefit, you can already feel your undergarments starting to stick to you and it's been longer than you care to think about since you last had a decent night of sex.

“I want you to crawl to me,” you say, tilting your head in the faintest bit of amusement at the light blush that colours his cheeks. You've made him do much, much worse but, for a moment you wonder if he'll hesitate, if not full on decline. The knife of arousal twists harshly in your gut when he drops down without so much as another glance from you. Your lips part unconsciously as you watch him make his way towards you. His gaze is later focused on his path, not that you mind all that much. You're much too busy following the lines of his firm body. Watching fluid muscle that pebbles your nipples beneath your nightgown and increases the steady heat in your bloodstream.

It's not long before he's mere centimetres away from your legs. Glassy, eager eyes finally finding your own when he eventually sits on the backs of his legs. Ever the good boy. Awaiting your directions with no signs of complaint or visible signs of frustration.

Well, signs he can control at the very least.

“You're already hard?” You both know your question is rhetorical. The tent at the front of his dress pants is visible from the mountains of The Healm. No, he knows you don't want an actual answer.

“I can't help it,” he whispers, his ears burning and you don't miss the way his hands clench and unclench on his firm thighs.

“What would people say,” you start, shifting closer to the edge of his bed. His eyes following your every movement like a hawk, his tongue darting out to lick his pretty mouth, “If they saw their precious prince like this? Crawling on his bedroom floor and getting hard just because I've been a little mean to him. How embarrassing.”

The shudder that rips through his entire body is intoxicating.

“Even worse, what if they all knew how much you like being embarrassed,” you continue, tugging your gown further up your thighs. More of your wetness dribbling out of you as you watch his eyes zero in on the apex of them. The whine that leaves his lips would be barely audible to anyone else. However, you're not just anyone when it comes to San.

“Look at you,” you bite out but, part of you knows it doesn't quite sound as intimidating as you'd like it to, “sitting there and panting like a fucking dog just because I'm letting you see my undergarments.”

A smirk spreads across your lips and you can't help the way your pussy flutters around nothing watching his eyes clamp shut and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. “I'm sorry. I'm–I just–,” he stammers, “It's been awhile,” he rushes out once his brain seems to finally piece itself back together.

“Aw,” you don't miss the way he shudders at the faux sympathy in your voice, “Poor, little princeling. Probably already leaking all over yourself just because it's been a few weeks since I've let you touch me,” you pout. Satisfaction coils in you watching the blush on his cheeks darken, fingers gripping his thighs like a lifeline.

However, as fun as it is to toy with him, you can't deny that you've been frustrated these past few weeks too. You'd sooner move kingdoms than admit this aloud but, your hand was a poor substitute for the prince's mouth and, occasionally, cock. Your fingers could get you there well enough on their own but, they paled starkly in comparison to him.

Much to your growing dismay.

San doesn't move. He doesn't even seem to breathe once your gown is bundled over your waist. Leaving your wet undergarments completely clear for him to view. He just stares. Hands gripping his thighs so harshly that if you cared about him, you may have been a little concerned. The dazed look in his eyes prompts your walls to flutter harshly without your consent.

His breathing is ragged as he watches you shimmey out of them. His eyes never leaving the apex of your thighs even as your undergarments drop unceremoniously on his pristine bedroom floor that you cleaned earlier in the day.

“Well?” You ask with a tilt of your head, spreading your thighs wider and pushing down a shiver when the cool night air hits your slick folds, “What are you waiting for? Do I really need to spell out what I want you to do next?”

“N–No,” he stammers out, shuffling forward so quickly that he's between your thighs in a blink. Your hand weaves into his hair as soon as his mouth descends onto you. You may not be able to stand the man hungrily lapping at you right now but, fuck is he fantastic with his mouth. Eager doesn't even begin to describe him. In moments, his mouth is thoroughly coated with your wetness, the vibrations from his moans further adding to the tightening in the pit of your stomach.

He only moans louder when you tug on his hair harder, your fingernails biting into his scalp sharply. He happily let's you shove him further against you. Latching onto your clit in an instant that briefly causes your vision to blur around the edges. God, he really may have ruined all other men for you. Your eyes flutter shut when his tongue, that fucking tongue of his, adds pressure. Licking patterns against your clit you couldn't decipher if your life depended on it.

“Ah, this is all you're good for,” you breathe out, using your unoccupied hand to tug down your gown to grab your breast, “Kneeling between my thighs while I use you.”

The smile his whimper brings out of you is sharp enough to cut glass.

Your hips jump when you pinch your nipple, a quiet moan ripping from your throat. Which motivates the little prince further. He sucks on your swollen clit in earnest, smearing the entire bottom half of his face with your juices as though they're his only source of hydration and he hasn't had a drop of water in decades. You're sure if you let him touch you, he'd use those stupid muscles of his to keep you locked in place while he feasts on you. Making you take all his mouth has to offer.

The thought makes your head spin and your hold on his scalp grows harsher. If the pain of your nails is too much for him, the prince doesn't show it. Electing instead to cling to your clit like it's the most important thing in the world to him. You're closer than you thought, you realise when another one of his pathetic whimpers forces your thighs to start quivering. Well, quivering more than they already were.

Cracking your eyes open proves to be a fatal mistake when you catch his watery eyes watching you. Drinking in every twitch of your brow, every pull and knead of your breast, every moan that slips past your bruised lips from when your teeth had sunken into them. He watched it all as if to commit every miniscule twitch of your muscles to memory. And those scorching eyes don't waver now. Even as your grip burns his scalp and you all but, ride his face to bring yourself closer to the metaphorical edge.

That's ultimately what does you in. Much to your ever growing irritation.

Not that you focus on it too much when your body feels as though it's floating somewhere amongst the stars. He continues to lap at you, albeit more subdued. Each brush of his tongue extending the shock waves that render your body limp on his too expensive sheets. You're sure that if he had his way, he'd continue to mouth at you until his jaw ached. Although that does sound like a wonderful way to spend your evening, you have other ideas in mind.

“Enough,” you bite, tugging him away from you once you regain some semblance of feeling in your limbs. He whines in protest but, otherwise doesn't disobey you. Letting you pull him away from your twitching hole and pulsing clit. The sight of him already looking thoroughly fucked out making you clamp down harshly around nothing. The emptiness is starting to burn.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” you order once you release him. The prince is nothing if not efficient. Stripping himself in what you can only assume is some record. On the endless list of things you'll never admit to anyone until you die, one them is that just the sight of his scalped torso is enough for you to start dribbling onto your undergarments. And now, watching his tan skin and muscles he's spent years crafting bathed in the moonlight, you know you're doomed.

Your body reminds you very quickly that you're still empty and the solution to that emptiness is twitching not too far away from you.

San watches you like a hawk as you recline onto his bed, your head resting on his mountain of pillows while your thighs remain spread. Smeared with your release and his spit.

“Would you like to fuck me, Your Highness?” You ask him, resting your cheek against your palm and biting back a smile when his cock bobs notably at your question. A question you both know the answer to but, it does wonderful things for your ego every time to ask it.

“Yes but, only if My Lady wishes it,” he whispers faintly but, he still manages to find the courage to meet your eyes. It makes you just a bit more mad how attractive he looks now with bruised, glistening lips and a faint blush colouring his cheeks. God, he's so annoying.

“I'm strawn out on your bed, am I not?” You ask him with a raise of your brow, your tone clearly questioning his intelligence but, based on the way his cock twitches, he's obviously into that too. Typical.

“Y–Yes, My Lady but, I didn't want to be presumptu–”

“Do I really need to tell you how to do everything? You can help run a kingdom but, all sense seems to leave you when tasked with fucking a woman. How pathetic,” you bite out, a twinge of sadistic glee twisting in your gut when he avoids your gaze and his flush deepens, “Come here.”

You snort when he nearly trips over himself in his haste to reach his bed. Shuffling between your thighs before you can blink but, not moving an inch beyond that. His body is practically vibrating with the effort it's taking him to not touch you without your say so. Cute.

“I really have done a good job with you, haven't I?” You ask more to yourself than him as your hand caresses his chest. Your pussy pulsing when a sharp gasp leaves his lips as you dig your nails into his skin. Dragging them along his body and marvelling at the faint, pink lines they leave. “To think,” you start once again while your fingers toy with one of his nipples, “the crown prince would become my own personal bitchboy,” you mutter, twisting his nipple between your fingers and revelling in the moan the action and your words rip from him.

“Please,” he whimpers so quietly that you don't catch it at first. However, once the word registers in your foggy brain, you grab his face. Cupping it and letting your nails dig into his cheeks, satisfaction and arousal coursing through your veins. You try not to do this too often. You don't need the palace gossiping and asking questions about the marks on the prince's face. However, sometimes you just can't help yourself.

“Please what?” You ask, the saccharine edge to your voice makes him shake in your grasp. Good.

“I want–may I please f–fuck you?” He pleads, tears welling up in his eyes and, Lord, does this all make you dribble onto his sheets even more.

“Aw, poor, desperate princeling,” you coo with pseudo sympathy. Your hand drifts from his face to the apex of your thighs. You watch his face while he watches your hand as though it possesses knowledge not even Galileo could have discovered. A soft curse flits into your ears when your fingers touch your swollen, soaked folds. The curse is more harsh this time when you spread yourself for him to see, to marvel at.

“Is this what you want, your highness?”

“Yes,” he rushes out, his body curling into itself with how much his desire weighs down on him, “I–please. I've been good and it's been so long,” he pleads, turning those watery eyes onto you once again.

“Go ahead. Let's see if you can impress me,” is all you need to say for him to grasp his slick cock in his trembling hand and guide it to your fluttering entrance. You're too preoccupied with watching him push into you to know what the prince is doing but, you have an inkling he's watching himself be swallowed by your walls too.

You'll never give him the satisfaction of knowing how good the stretch of his thick cook feels but, you can't stop your eyes from fluttering and your hands from anchoring themselves across his stupidly broad back. The prince isn't one for reservations, however. He moans long and loud once he's finally sheathed inside of you. His sweaty forehead resting against your shoulder while his cock twitches nonstop inside of you.

“All it took was being inside me for a few seconds for you to become this weak? Isn't this a little too sad even for you, my prince?” You whisper against the shell of his ear, biting down on his lobe and smiling when all he can respond with are pitchy whimpers for a moment.

“I–I'm–I'm trying,” he grits out against your skin, thrusting into you before you can spit out another response. San is a fucking machine once he's finally given permission. You don't consciously cling to him but, you rake across his back nonetheless. The pain just pushes him further. The sounds of skin hitting skin echo throughout his disgustingly large bedroom and, if you had the presence of mind to care, you may have worried that someone could hear the two of you.

All of his little whines and moans shoot straight down to your clit not unlike lightning. However, just as you're starting to enjoy finally getting a decent, thorough pounding, it ends just as quickly as it started.

Your eyes fly open when all you receive in warning is a strangled whimper of your name before copious amounts of warmth flood your slick walls. San shudders harshly over your body. His cock throbs with each rope of cum that paints your pussy white. He must've been just as pent up as you, you reason but, it doesn't stop the white-hot disappointment that you feel. You stare up at the maurel Hongjoong had painted for him ages ago while he tries to stop himself from crushing you with his weight as his seed starts to leak out of you.

“I'm sorry,” he mutters into your throat, strong hands rubbing your thighs in what you assume to be apology, “I could–I couldn't help it,” he squeaks. He's blushing so hard that you're certain the heat radiating off him raises your body temperature.

“Disappointing as always. Nothing new,” is all you say in response, shoving him off of you and standing on unsteady legs. He reaches out to help you but, must see something in your face that tells him not to touch you. So, he doesn't. He watches as you make your way into his washroom. Ugh, other than letting him touch you, the clean up is probably the most annoying part of these little meetings.

Once you've cleaned yourself up enough that the prince's seed isn't dribbling onto your thighs, you exit his unnecessarily ornate bathroom. Met with the sight of him still naked and lounging on his bed, waiting for you.

“We can go again,” he offers sincerely, “If you'd like to, of course.”

You resent the way your clit throbs at the offer.

“I'm fine. I think I'll retire for the night,” you respond, picking up your discarded undergarment from the ground and slipping it on. Only just managing to hold back from cringing at the cool wetness that meets your skin. The prince looks like he wants to say something. To argue. However, nothing comes.

“Well then, goodnight. I look forward to our next…encounter,” he finally replies once the words find him. A different man. This is the prince you're more accustomed to outside of his bedchambers.

You nod before turning to face his door. Slinking into the darkness of the hallways and hoping no one sees you leaving the crown prince's personal chambers at this hour.

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[bakuliwrites]

Ebb and Flow- Prince Sidon x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda

Relationship: Prince Sidon x Reader

Summary: “I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another? Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?”Sidon is given earth shattering news. His duty as a Zora Prince outweighs all else. But how can he accept that when his love for you is so deep?

Tags: Female Reader, Smut, Angst, PIV, Semi-Public S*x, Outdoor S*x, Oral S*x, Shark Anatomy, Established Relationship, Star-crossed Lovers, Romance

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

DISCLAIMER: TOTK SPOILERS, 18+

Sidon wonders if he had spoken too softly. He expected some sort of reaction from you, even if it wasn’t a dramatic, soul-wrenching one. But your silence comes as a shock to him. Your unreadable gaze penetrates him from where you’re seated by the window in your quarters. Quarters he had specifically modified to house a Hylian such as yourself. Just for you. Fashioned to house you for what he thought would be forever. From the luxurious water bed on one side, where the two of you have shared so many passionate nights, to the cozy, crackling fireplace on the other- it’s all been for you, and him, and what he thought would be your future together.

“Y-you what?” you finally manage, confirming to Sidon that it wasn’t that you didn’t hear him, but that you couldn’t believe what he’d said. He hadn't wanted to tell you until he returned from his diplomatic mission, but he couldn't keep it a secret from you. Sidon's words stick to his throat. They feel barbed, razor-like, cutting his tongue on their way out.

“My father has decided- He’s arranged my marriage,” Sidon repeats, words seeping from his mouth like blood. But he tastes nothing when his tongue grazes over his lower lip, checking for a fresh wound. Still, he tastes metal, haunting and sharp. You’re bathed in moonlight, a silver gloss draping elegantly over your skin. Tonight, you appear to Sidon like an ethereal ghost, distant and untouchable, a curiously beautiful and captivating goddess. Like the moon delivered you to him and has come back this night to steal you away. 

“Not only has my father found who he considers to be a ‘suitable match’ for me, but he’s arranged the date of our meeting,” Sidon goes on, wanting to fill this deeply uncomfortable silence with something, anything, “Of our marriage.”

He trails off, glancing down at his feet and willing himself not to shed the tears that are stinging his eyes. He’s always known there was a risk that his marriage would be arranged. You aren’t Zora, you’re not royalty. It was a small chance that King Dorephan would even consider you in the running to marry Sidon. Your duty to Hyrule and Sidon’s duty to his people were always meant to clash. But he never thought it would be something to worry about this soon. His father’s decision to step down from the throne came as a shock, and the decision regarding Sidon’s marriage that much more shocking.

Your silence is killing him, gnawing at his insides, anxiety running rampant in his mind. Say something, anything. Please, he silently begs.

“When?” is all you’re able to question through your stupor. The look he gives you is grave, crestfallen.

“In less than a fortnight,” he almost whispers. He watches as your eyes fall slowly shut, as you clench your fists, your jaw. Every part of you tenses, but not out of anger. You take a deep breath and Sidon can tell you’re trying to hold in your tears. But when you exhale, they start to roll down your cheeks, dripping freely to the floor beneath. Droplets of pure moonlight shimmering as they fall. He rushes to you, scoops you into his arms, your small, Hylian form fitting so perfectly in his embrace. 

“I fought for us,” Sidon continues, as if he needs to prove to you that his love is genuine. As if you didn’t already know. Your shuddering sobs into his shoulder seem to shake the very foundation beneath you.  

“I fought so hard for us,” he whimpers, holding you closer, tighter, as if he were to let go, the moon would finally take you back to your celestial throne, “But my father wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t- No matter how much I protested. How much I argued and debated-” 

“It’s okay,” you manage through tears, littering Sidon’s face with kisses, “I know you fought. I know you tried as hard as you could.”  

Sorrow blooms in every facet of your irises as you stare into Sidon’s gilded ones. If his heart hadn’t shattered in its entirety before, it certainly does now. He opens his mouth to say more, but he realizes he’s not even sure what he wants to say. He can’t reassure you. He can’t even reassure himself. 

A knock at your door pulls him begrudgingly from this private moment. An attendant calls out to him, "Your Highness, we should leave before it gets much later."

“They can wait,” Sidon speaks, turning back towards you, not wanting to leave you after such devastating news. You smile softly, shaking your head.

“No they can’t, my darling,” you gently return. He knows it, you know it. His royal duties, his people must always come first. You’ve never quibbled with him about this, something he deeply admires about you. 

Sidon presses a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. He can taste the salt of your tears, the salt of his own. He hadn’t even realized he’d shed any until the soft pads of your thumbs wipe them from his cheeks. He gazes at you underneath his furrowed brow, memorizing the features of your lovely face. If you dissolve into moonlight while he’s gone, he would never forgive himself for not kissing you one last time. 

“Wait for me,” he breathes when he pulls back, “We'll figure this- something out.” You nod, leaning your forehead against his and closing your eyes. Desperately, Sidon wishes he didn’t have to leave. Not in the middle of such an important conversation. 

“I should be no more than a few days,” he promises, giving you one final kiss before he wrenches himself from you and reluctantly slips out of your room. He doesn’t dare look back, knowing your melancholy gaze will destroy him if he does.

***

Sidon's diplomatic meeting with the Rito was a success, though it was mostly just a formality. The Zora and Rito are already on quite friendly terms, so he wasn't too concerned in the first place. The entire trip, however, his mind was preoccupied with you, with marriage, with grief. He's mulled over every possible solution. He contemplates further arguments with his father, knowing full-well that he won’t win them. But for you, it’s most certainly worth a try. He thinks about running away with you, eloping under the light of the moon, starting a new life on some remote island, far away from everything. But he knows he couldn’t leave his people behind, and he is certain that you won’t let him. Sidon could refuse to marry anyone at all, but that would mean he couldn’t be with you. But wouldn’t it be better to live his life alone if he can’t live it with you?

These thoughts swirl endlessly around his mind, a vortex of confusion and possibility. Nothing seems right. He loves you. No one else. He can’t imagine loving someone else. Or growing to love someone else. Up until now, Sidon has imagined spending the rest of his life with you. Of proposing marriage to you, in the customary Hylian fashion. Starting a family together, running the Zora kingdom together. Growing old with one another. Nights spent gazing up at the stars, held close in one another’s arms. Mornings waking up in your warm embrace. 

With his father’s decision, all hope Sidon had of making a life with you has been dashed. On his journey home, he tries to come up with some sort of solution, but as the Zora kingdom draws nearer and nearer, the Prince frustratingly comes up with nothing useful.

***

An attendant greets Sidon on the bridge leading into the palace, handing off a small slip of paper before dashing off again. The Prince unfolds the note, recognizing your handwriting immediately. “Meet me in our usual spot,” it reads, followed by a small heart and the first letter of your name. Sidon politely excuses himself from his fellow travelers and bolts off to meet you, hoping that you haven’t been waiting long for him.

By the time Sidon reaches Toto Lake, the moon is hovering high in the night sky, casting swathes of silver light across all of Hyrule. Its reflection wavers on the surface of the lake as Sidon’s keen eyes search for you. He spots you in the lake’s center, gliding through the water, every stroke disrupting the liquid mirror around you. The lake appears to envelope your form, encompassing you almost lovingly. Toto holds so many memories for Sidon. It’s where he sought solace after his sister’s passing. Where he found peace during the devastating years that Calamity Ganon reigned. The temperate waters have provided shelter in his most distressing times. It’s also where Sidon first pledged himself to you, promising his heart to you. And where you promised yours to him. A sacred, secret promise.

Sidon watches you for a moment. You cling to the crumbling ruins in the lake’s center, gazing up at the distant, twinkling stars above, not seeming to have noticed him yet. Crickets chirp in harmony with the nearby ribbits of hot-footed frogs, hiding stealthily amongst the scattered lily pads near the shore. Sidon wonders if this is the last time he’s ever going to see you, a thought that pierces his heart like a vicious barb. He can’t help but notice the pile of bags and personal items that you’ve left in the nearby clearing, like you’re prepared to travel a great distance.

Sidon is pulled from this painful thought when you wave to him, having finally noticed him lingering there. He waves back, somewhat apprehensive, but collects himself before diving into the lake. Sidon swiftly cuts through the water, desperate to reach you, the red of his fin cresting the surface of the lake. He wonders if he’ll reach you in time before the moon summons you home again. 

“My darling,” you exhale as he reaches you, pulling you into his embrace and holding you close. You cling to Sidon, the gentle thrum of your heart against his chest reinvigorating him after his long journey home. Why do you puzzle-piece so perfectly into his form? It seems like a cruel, cosmic joke that you would fit so neatly, so completely in Sidon’s arms. 

“You’re leaving?” he questions, pulling back to meet your sorrowful gaze. Gently, his large hand cups your cheek, one thumb smoothing over your soft skin. You lean your head to the side, letting your eyelids flutter shut as you press a tender kiss into the palm of his hand. 

“I must,” you state just barely above a whisper, a quiver in your voice that threatens to shatter Sidon’s already fragile calm, “I heard word around the palace that your bride-to-be arrives tomorrow.”

This is news to Sidon, news that washes waves of vertigo and anxiety over him. They threaten to drown him, pummel him into the silt and sand until he is nothing more than a smoothed over shell, tossed about in the surf. Sidon steadies himself, taking a deep breath, using your pleasant scent, your warmth as an anchor to this moment. Your cheeks are flushed and when you open your eyes once again, Sidon can tell that you’ve been crying, though you shed no tears in front of him. He wants to beg you to stay, to beseech the moon above and bargain that you might grace him just a little longer with your presence. What would it take for the heavenly bodies to allow you just a few hours longer with him?

“I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another?” 

“Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?” he finishes. You contemplate this for a moment, before leaning your forehead against his. Beneath the cool sheen of water on your skin, Sidon feels the heat of your blood flowing strong through your veins. Your strength, your poise in this painful time serves as an example to him. He is always put together, always princely and regal. You let him fall apart, without judgement. Sidon can feel his composure fracture at your next words.  

“I think we come from the same ancient waters,” you begin, your hands coming to rest on either side of his face, “In some primordial sea, we rode the same tides. Perhaps someday, we shall again. But maybe this time around, we are only meant to flow together briefly, before we part.” 

“This cannot be,” Sidon whispers, voice wavering and tears beginning to roll down his cheekbones,“I feel your spirit ebb and flow inside of me. You inhabit me in a way that no one else ever has.” 

“I am with you, always. My soul is woven into every fiber of your being. And yours, mine,” you return, and with your exhale, warm tears flow from your bright eyes, “Sidon, I love you, body and soul.” 

He can take no more. Sidon crashes his lips into yours, feverish and desperate. You drape your arms over his shoulders, press yourself tightly to him. Perhaps the gracious moon will allow the two of you to merge, to live out the remainders of your lives as one being, one body, one soul. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, resting on his narrow hips while he grips your supple thighs. You’re bare to him already, your naked form bathed in silver moonlight. You are glorious, mesmerizing. A bright star, fallen to earth so that Sidon might marvel at your beauty, your mystery before you ascend to your place carved out in the heavens once again.

Sidon can feel his arousal growing as you palm his bulge, claspers pressing against his sheathe. Your warm tongue languidly explores his mouth, breath fanning softly against him. His hands smooth over your slick curves, worshipping every part of you. He commits the plushness of your body to memory, stores your soft moans and tiny gasps so that he might recall them later, in his loneliest hours. The way you breathe his name is holy and nearly brings him to his knees. 

“My darling, my pearl,” he whimpers pathetically as you trail kiss after searing kiss along his jawline and down his neck. Your teeth leave their bittersweet marks in his flesh, his talons dragging down your back, agonizing and delightful all at once. 

"I will bear your marks for all of time,” he announces, voice husky and low, “And know that I am yours, and you are mine."

“I am yours always. Sidon,” you coo, hand massaging torturously slow over his painful bulge, “In this lifetime, and the next. In all that we should ever exist in together. And even those that we do not.”

Sidon’s fingers tangle in the wet strands of your hair, tugging as he tilts your head so he can have better access to the tender spot of flesh behind your ear. He luxuriates in the lyrical moans that flutter from your lips as he nibbles and sucks at your sensitive skin. His warm tongue drags along your neck, goosebumps appearing in his wake. Your excitement fuels him, thrills him like nothing else does. His fingers find his way to your slick folds, running its length, dousing himself with you. 

He can’t contain himself any longer, his claspers freeing themselves from their sheathe. You're quick to grasp one, pumping slow and rhythmic. 

“Sidon, please, allow me,” you entreat, your doe-eyed glance up at him only spurring on his arousal. He releases his grip on you, gently setting you back in the water and letting you push him onto a nearby ledge of the ruins. If his people saw him now- oh, the very thought. How un-princely of him- an idea that inexplicably excites him. Prince Sidon- always so put together. Always so collected and proper. Prince Sidon- with the lips of a Hylian warrior, a celestial goddess, around one cock and her hand wrapped around the other. 

Your tongue swirls around his swollen tip, making him throw his head back in overwhelming pleasure as you doubly stimulate him. Your hand strokes him at one speed, while your mouth works at another, before you fall into a rhythm with both. Every once in a while, you pause to lick a stripe up either shaft, before diving back in once again. Desperate to have you near, Sidon weaves the fingers of your free hand with his own and grips tight. You squeeze back, letting him know you’re still present, though you seem happily preoccupied with both of his cocks. 

“Oh, you work miracles, my love,” he groans, chest heavy with pleasure. He stays your hand, lets you work with just your mouth on one of his claspers. It would bring him no greater pleasure than to come inside you, he explains. 

“Your wish is my command, my prince,” you impishly return, mischief glinting in your eyes. You only ever call him, “Prince,” in court, when you have to be more formal. Or in private, when you want to tease him. An electric pulse runs through the length of Sidon’s body at your devilish gaze. You grasp his thighs, nails digging into his flesh. The sensation sends waves of pleasure through him. As your head bobs up and down, Sidon tries his best not to buck his hips into you, but it’s so very difficult. The coil in his core tightens, threatening to snap at any moment. And when it finally does, you help him ride out the electrifying pulses of his first orgasm that night.

***

A burst of salt hits the back of your throat. Bright brine graces your tongue. Your chest feels warm as you swallow, like your body is trying to imbue itself with Sidon. Like you're trying to weave him into every fiber of your being. His ragged breath is music to your ears as you slide your mouth off him. With a wet pop you release him, a string of spit connecting him to you. A connection tenderly wiped away by one of Sidon’s massive thumbs. When you glance up at him, his eyes are dark with lust, slitted pupils wide in pools of molten gold. Sidon’s cheeks are rosy and his body temperature warm, so very warm compared to his usual chill. 

You hardly have a moment to catch your breath before Sidon draws you up to him, smashing his lips against yours. Your nails dig into the hard muscles of his back, his streamlined body pressed so deliciously against yours. Your heat is throbbing, every ounce of you heavy with arousal. Carefully, Sidon flips you over, laying you ever so gently on the slab of rock beneath. Your head is cradled by some of the snaking ivy growing on these ancient ruins. Sidon gazes down at you, eyes glimmering in the night. His look is one of curiosity, awe. Though he’s seen you bare to him so many times before, he looks at you like it’s the first time. 

“I am at your mercy,” he hushes, sweeping strands of your hair out of your face, before leaning down to tenderly press his lips to yours. He lays kiss-upon-kiss over your cheeks, down your neck, along your collarbone. Featherlight, he trails his lips down your chest, suckling gently on each of the pert buds of your nipples. His sharp teeth graze them softly before he makes his way down your abdomen. His hands knead your hips, cup and massage your breasts as his mouth reaches your heat. He wouldn’t dare tease you, but he can’t help nibbling at your thighs a bit, leaving little love-bites in his wake. After a moment of reveling in your plush inner-thighs, Sidon turns his attention to your pussy. His tongue is languid, warm, as he drags it along your folds. The moan that escapes your lips is salacious. You hear Sidon growl with excitement. He flicks his gilded gaze up at you before he softly kisses the sensitive nub of your clit. 

Sidon dives into you, lapping up your arousal like it’s his lifeblood. Like he simply cannot survive without the taste of you. He savors you, tongue slowly circling your clit, testing your entrance. You squirm under the firm grasp he has on your hips, bucking into him, causing him to chuckle at your eagerness. He hoists your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his head deeper into you. Sidon drinks you in like he’s parched. With each of your tiny mewls, you feel Sidon’s happy hums reverberating through your body. 

“Sidon, please,” you whine, smoothing one hand over the sleek fin atop his head, “I need to feel you in me.” 

He withdraws, the cool night air hitting your overheated folds surprising you. You gasp at its harshness, but Sidon is quick to replace the loss of heat with his hand, palming your sensitive pussy. When his lips meet yours, he tastes of you. 

“My darling, I’m yours. Entirely, completely. Every part of me. All parts of my soul,” he promises, his voice filled with conviction, with an aching passion. 

“I am yours, Sidon,” you return, breathless and longing, “Forever and always.” 

Tenderly, he spreads your legs, letting you wrap them around his waist, placing a large hand on the small of your back to help angle you. The stars overhead seem so close, so clear, like you’re encompassed in an endless dome of them. 

“Are you ready, my love?” Sidon asks, his cheeks flushed, breaths laborious. You nod enthusiastically, more than ready for him. He’s so slick, he slips into you with more ease than you expect. But he’s so big, you can feel him stretching out your entrance. He goes slow, gentle, allowing you ample time to adjust. Every few moments he asks if you’re alright. You stabilize yourself, arms slung around his chest, hands resting on his sinewy back. He’s cool to the touch, a sheen of water over his skin. 

With one of Sidon’s cock’s inside you, the other rests against your stomach. It’s hard again already, having recovered fast from your earlier ministrations. You grasp it gently, pumping rhythmically with Sidon’s rocking motions. A sultry moan falls from his lips at this double stimulation.

Sidon grinds slow and shallow for a while, before pressing deeper into you. You let go of the clasper resting against your stomach, allowing it to rest against you. With every pump into you, Sidon’s cock presses against the soft pad of your cervix. The pleasure is intense, your body quivering with each voltaic charge Sidon pulses into you. The heat generated between you is overwhelming, your bodies trying so desperately to merge into one. Your fingernails dig into his back, his talons into your thighs. Sidon buries his head into the crook of your neck, suckling little bruises, marking you. He delights in the way your breasts bounce with every motion. 

Goddess, please, let the moonlight fuse us into one, he begs, but he knows this cannot be. The two of you try your very best to do it yourselves. 

As Sidon grinds into you, the grip you have on his back prompts him to pick up his pace. 

“My darling, my pearl,” he manages to whisper, his breathing heavy, “You are, and always shall be, the light of my life.” 

“You are my moon, my stars, my light in the darkness,” you return, voice constrained by the taut coil in your core. Your walls quake around Sidon’s quivering cock. 

“Ha,” he huffs, pounding harder into you, “So close, my darling.” 

And so are you, but you can’t speak. For a moment later, the straining coil in you springs loose. Sidon’s name echoes through the clearing, a prayer in this ancient water temple. You cream around Sidon’s cock as he falls apart, his pace erratic as his hot cum fills your cunt. You feel even more paint your stomach, threads coating your abdomen from his other cock. Sidon calls out your name, a hymn to match yours. Sidon wonders if the moon hears the adoration, the infinite love in his voice. You know it does. 

When you’ve milked him for everything he’s worth, when he’s spent himself entirely inside you and on you, you pull Sidon down, crashing your lips into his. Feverishly, the two of you press kiss after kiss to one another, heated and yearning. You let the silence wash over you, grateful for the cool night breeze on your overheated bodies. After a while, Sidon gently pulls out of you, cock slick with your combined efforts. He pulls you into his embrace, cradling you in his arms. You belong here, enveloped by him. Enveloping him. How could the Goddess be so cruel to make you fit so perfectly, only to take you away from him?

“Leave in the morning,” Sidon begs, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lip, “Please, stay one more night. Besides, it’s not safe.”

You shake your head, a rueful smile on your lips and sorrow in your eyes, “If I don’t leave now, it’ll be that much harder for me to leave tomorrow. And don’t worry, Zelda has sent forth people to retrieve me. They’ll be here within the hour. I’ll be okay.” 

Sidon’s heart can’t drop anymore, but if it could, it certainly would. He’s not sure what he expected to feel after everything that’s happened. The depth of his melancholy is too great for him to understand at the moment. It will take time for him to process. He doesn’t feel numb. No, instead he savors your embrace. He holds you close, littering your face with kisses, gently stroking your back while you rub small circles into his. If he could live in this moment forever, he would.

A horn blows in the distance, drawing the two of you out of your tender sanctuary in time. In the distance, you see lights on the bridge of the palace. It’s a Hylian caravan of guards, no doubt from the palace. No doubt sent here for you. You cling to Sidon’s back as he swims the two of you to shore. 

“I wish you could whisk me away on your back. I wish we could just keep swimming and not look back,” you murmur to him, laying a gentle kiss on his fin. 

“I do, too,” is all he can manage, trying so very hard not to shed any more tears. You dress quickly and Sidon helps you gather all your things. These are your last moments together. The bitter sweetness sticks in Sidon’s chest, viscous like tree sap, clinging to his ribs. Hand-in-hand you walk back down the cliff side and make your way to the bridge. Just out of sight of the Hylian caravan, you pull Sidon aside and lay your lips against his one more time. Your kiss is passionate and conveys every immense bit of your love for him. He hopes you can feel the same from him. 

When you pull back, your eyes are filled with adoration. And his with sorrow and love. You smile softly.

"The sea will carry us to one another,” you begin, tears trickling down your cheeks, “Time and again. I will find you in the next life, where our tides will be one and the same."

Sidon leans his forehead against yours, allowing his tears to fall freely.

“My heart belongs to you, always,” he breathes, “You reside in me, sheltered and safe.”

“You will always find a home in my heart,” you return, pressing one final kiss to his lips. Your hand lingers in his for a moment, before it slips from his grasp. Prince Sidon of the Zora watches your form grow smaller and smaller on the horizon, before it disappears behind the cliff sides, and he is left alone once again. 

A/N: Okay, don’t get me wrong, I actually think Lady Yona is adorable and I have all sorts of plans for some OC/Sidon/Link/Yona headcanons and drawings. But I couldn’t resist writing some Sidon/Reader angst!!!!!! Oh gosh, if I ever decide to do a follow up, there's just too many good options. a) Sidon refuses the arranged marriage and declares that he's marrying you, against his father's wishes b) Sidon decides to runaway with you and you live out the rest of your lives on a secluded island c) Sidon goes through with the marriage and you go your separate ways or, perhaps my favorite option, d) you, and Sidon, and Link, AND Yona become a happy little polycule because that would be adorable and wonderful (and I've said it before, but I'll say it again, if you know me, you know I love anything poly!!!!!!) Thank you so much for reading! This was a delight to write, though it definitely filled me with a lot of sadness. As always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Hope you are all doing amazing! Lots of love 💜

[bloodsadx]

even the years that i retroactively have viewed as the most useless of my life have paid off. ive met and befriended many of my heroes from when i was down bad and doing nothing. however in spite of this any time im down im still like. well. i guess im going to jump into the fargo life size human mulcher and deboner (in order to become less full of blood). anyway every time im in an uber with my buddy anne she says the word transexual minimum like 6 times no matter what the vibe of the driver is and last night the uber driver told us to try the following pick up lines (which he called “jaw droppers”): when a girl asks your favorite food, say that “[you] don’t care about stuff like that, [you] want to get to know the flavor of [her] taste buds.” he insisted she’s never heard some shit like this before, so she’ll either like it and you’ll start making out, or if she’s “a more polite woman” she will be like ok ok, and at that point you say “i’m not trying to nourish your body, i’m trying to enrich your soul.” he said that you say that, this being the “jaw dropper,” and then you “can shove your tongue down her throat.” well me and my buddy anne were losing our minds in this uber. and then she started saying the word transsexual to refer to her previous partners and the guy became strictly quiet. well anyway. the moral of the post is, if you walk around a lot, you notice more stuff. i’ve been walking about 10-15 miles a day for the past few weeks and something i’ve been noticing a lot is one specific sticker around portland which ive seen i think sincerely about 300 different places in the past week. and i’ve been walking some really not well trodden, very annoying routes, and this guy has been putting stickers up in some really strange and not even particularly visible spots. and the thing is, i kind of don’t even like this guy’s sticker, but i do really like seeing it, so i really respect that guy. and last night i made direct eye contact with a guy as he put down a slice of pizza and took out a paint marker to write on a trash can. me personally if i made direct eye contact with someone as i was about to write on a trash can i would probably not do that.

i’ve been making draft posts like this when i get home from a long walk and then not posting them nearly explicitly because i don’t want a bunch of people to read them. sometimes i let one fly and it does get like a hundred notes and i just get pissed off. a few months ago i got so mad about something i kept hitting the ground with sticks as hard as possible and trying to suplex trees and victorian house porch support beams at my friends houses. not to test my strength but rather to feel completely indignantly impotent and to feel myself fail against the weight of the world. i got into a bad car crash and have been disallowed by the weight of the world from driving endlessly and aimlessly through the country and instead have endlessly and aimlessly wandered by foot through a place i have lived in for 3 years but only recently have come to feel like i have any knowledge of. so its hard to say which years are more useless. the years where i was doing stuff people gave a fuck about or the years where i was doing stuff that hurt my legs and feet and i saw more stuff? well at the end of the day i suppose nobody can say for sure…after all, on the internet, nobody knows i’m a seaman.

[kaybreezy3000]

The Pet (A Five Hargreeves / Male Reader Insert)

16714 words, 10 chapters of awesome, rated Explicit for dark themes and sexual content

Realizing that his family were going to be zero help, Five went back to the Commission with one goal in mind. He needed to find out who caused the apocalypse, but as he should have known already, when traveling through time, what you are looking for isn't always what you get. This time, he's taking you down with him.

(Important Note: This is set during Season One. I don't like giving away the whole story in my tags, but don't worry, I am NOT doing a Five as a minor with an adult thing. And the dubious consent thing will also be very interesting, so, you'll just have to read to find out how this one works out, but if you do, I promise it's worth it.)

~~~Originally created for two separate explicit Tumblr requests for a story with Five and a male reader insert, one specifically involving hypnotism in the plot, and Five getting the chance to feel what it means to let go of control for once.~~~

Warnings and Tags: meant to be an intense read, The Handler, Hurt-Angst, Comfort, Five, Sub Five, Dubious Consent, Hypnotism, rough sex, many tags being left off to keep you on your toes until the end, so be warned...it's a dark one, but a very good one. Stay away if not your thing. TY.

The Pet

Chapter one: Prologue

The Handler glanced over her shoulder, looking back at Five. “You would think with all the blood on your hands, doing something as simple as this would’ve been nothing for you, but here you are, stomping along in those cute little schoolboy shorts, looking like a ferocious little puppy that’s about to nip at my heels over something as trivial as details…” 

Five continued watching as the orderlies dragged away their latest victim, but as soon as the other boy was out of sight, his glare turned to the real target of his hatred. “Why didn’t you tell me he was one of us?” he snapped as he stopped next to her. “And even better, what are you going to do with him?” 

The Handler’s smile grew bigger as she looked down at Five like he was the most pathetic thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

Hands trembling, Five’s fingers curled, his fingernails cutting half-moons into his small palms. 

A heat wave of outrage and confusion hit him all over again. 

He could still sense him.

As soon his eyes met that stranger’s, even before they had touched and he had his hands around the other male’s throat, he’d felt a power that was not his own. It was warm, like a blanket wrapping around his entire body, trying to muffle all his senses.

Just before nailing Five in the face, the young man cried out, begging him to let go, and unable to stop himself, Five did let go, but the deed was already done. 

Licking the corner of his lip, Five felt a fresh sting of pain, accompanied by the coppery taste of his own blood, and that only made him more furious. 

Adding insult to injury, rather than reply to his questions, The Handler had dismissively reached into her purse, pulling out a pocket mirror. As she gazed at her reflection, fixing her already perfectly crimson lips, he shook his head in disbelief.

Eyes darting at nothing and everything as he rapidly went over his options, and tried to figure out what was going on, Five concluded that if that kid was like them, based on the year they had taken him, he was only nineteen. Cursing under his breath, his hand raking back through his neatly clipped hair, he also concluded that he never should have agreed to come back with The Handler in the first place. 

None of this should have happened. He had to get back to his family in 2019. They’d find another way to figure out who caused the apocalypse, and as for him… 

“Fuck,” Five quietly cursed again.

Slowly, he started backpedaling, turning away, his hands coming together, the energy needed to open a portal just starting to illuminate his hands. 

His power fizzled out.

“What the ffff-?” Five angrily gasped as he frantically dug at the numbing sensation that was suddenly radiating through the left side of his body. 

Unsteadily spinning back around, Five saw it wasn’t just a tube of lipstick The Handler had in her hand. She’d been hiding a syringe too, just like the one he’d used to sedate the young man they'd just abducted. 

The long hallway began to sway and tilt under his feet. In less than a second, Five’s legs began to give out.

Chapter 2: Screw You and Screw Me Too

The smell of bleachy sterilization filled Five’s nostrils as his eyes began to flutter open.

He knew that smell.

Blinded by the unforgiving lights shining down on him, he started to panic. 

He was in the Commission’s lower-level medical wing; the same place they took him when he’d first been recruited and required their so-called ‘improvements.’ Here they had stripped him naked and hosed him down as he cowered in an open shower stall, uselessly trying to cover his privates.

It didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter how he felt. They treated him worse than an animal. They had said he needed to be decontaminated, but they did so much more than that.

Desperately trying to wake up and think straight, a whimper crawled up from deep in his throat, but the higher pitched sound of the voice that came out of him didn’t match the one of the horrendously traumatized old man that they had been dehumanizing. Lost in his nightmare of memories, that only terrified Five even more. 

As soon as he could make his limbs move, he began to wildly thrash, but just as fast, hands of people dressed in white scrubs came at him, holding him down. Much smaller than them and way outnumbered, Five wasn’t strong enough to break free, and soon, the restraints they’d been securing to his wrists were tightened.

When his power to blink himself out of there evaporated just as fast as he’d summoned it, Five dug the heel of his shoe into the stainless-steel table under him, sending his knee up, nailing one of the orderlies in the nuts. As the man let go of him, one of the women forced Five’s leg back down as she breathlessly asked, “Should we administer another dose to calm him, Sir?”

Readying a tray of shiny instruments, the lead physician tonelessly said, “No. The subject needs to be fully awake for the process to work. What is already in him will keep him from getting away while we are administering the serum. Once we determine it’s working, and he’s gone through the first stages, then we will give him another very small dose that will keep him manageable until she has time to take care of him more permanently.”

Sure that The Handler was close by, Five looked to the interior windows that opened to the hall. She wasn’t there, but he did see someone else. 

In the next operating room, the young man that he'd helped capture was laying there on a gurney, blankly staring back at him. His jaw was slack, and he wasn’t even strapped down, which meant he was totally screwed and there was no way he was getting away either.

“I’m going to kill all of you!” Five yelled as the hefty nurse yanked his head back by his hair, so another demon in scrubs could jam a gag in his mouth.

By the time they had it secured to the back of his head, all he could do was growl at them, but from the corner of his eye, Five saw movement happening over in the operating room, so he looked that way again.

The young man was still looking at him. Like before, gone was that eerie glow of vibrantly changing colors that had been radiating from his otherwise kind looking eyes that had caught Five’s attention even before The Handler pointed him out. Five could no longer feel that strange pull inside his mind telling him not to look away, but still, he couldn’t take his eyes away from what he’d done.

The assistants rolled their other victim on his side, then the physician raised a scalpel to the back of his neck, slicing him open, but for what, Five didn’t know. He didn’t even flinch. A line of drool slipped from his mouth, but there was a glistening of tears in his otherwise empty eyes, meaning he was aware of what was happening, even if he couldn’t feel it.

Just then, The Handler appeared, her body blocking Five’s view of the horrors happening in the other room. Her red lips curled with amusement as the Commission’s medical staff began cutting open his argyle vest, slicing right through it to his dress shirt. Like they were filleting a fish, they peeled back his clothing in layers, exposing his rapidly heaving chest, and the length of his small, stretched out arms.

“I have to give it to you again, Five. You really are adorable like this,” she said, admiring his skin as it turned an offended pink from even the slightest nick from the blade.

Five squirmed uselessly as the nurses moved along, roughly cleaning him with alcohol, not just all along the trunk of his body, and arms, but other places too. 

They took his uniform shorts, then they removed his underwear.

Drinking him in with sick fascination, The Handler ran a finger along Five’s cheek. “Many here think that it would have been easier to keep you in line by making you stay like this, but unlike you, I am a creature of my word,” she explained, then her focus switched to the other room, taking in her other prize before looking back down, her eyes narrowing. “You got me him…so I am going to give you what you want.” Her predatory gaze moved between Five’s legs. “Don't worry. You’ll be a big boy again in no time.”

Repulsed, Five could do nothing but lay there. 

This made no sense. 

She had told him, ‘They are perfecting your body as we speak.’ 

He’d thought that meant they were building a totally different body for him.

This was not that! 

The Handler grinned. “Lucky you that I figured out a way to leash you, because if I hadn’t, you would be lying dead on the road next to your brother’s stolen ice cream truck right now.” 

As she turned away, the Commission’s head doctor ordered his staff to start inserting dozens of needles into his body.

Frothing on his gag, unintelligible noises screeched out of Five’s mouth as he bucked his hips, frantically fighting against the straps holding him down. Within less than a minute, they had him strung up, with IV’s coming out of him all over the place. Hyperventilating, his eyes wide in terror, he watched them attach bags of fluid to the lines leading into his body. 

The substance crawling through the plastic tubes looked like pure evil, like luminescent clouds of churning black ink.

As the pain started, all Five saw were the fractured images of the room around him, blurred by his tears. His teeth bearing down, all he could hear was the sound of what was left of his soul breaking as his muffled screams got louder, and louder.

Chapter 3: Cat and Mouse

Before all this happened, body rigid with tension, Five stared at the marble partition, listening to The Handler shuffling around in the bathroom stall next to him.

“You know, we value integrity above all else,” she said, her voice velvety sweet. “Trust is essential, and that trust is…built over time. But in the event of a breach, the Commission will act swiftly and without mercy.” She purposefully paused, letting that sink in. “I’m sure you, of all people, can appreciate that.”

Saying nothing back to that thinly veiled threat, The Handler’s toilet flushed. Five reached up, needlessly readjusting his already perfectly knotted, standard black academy necktie.

Mentally cursing himself over getting trapped while sitting on the toilet seat like he was taking a shit, Five crossed his arms over his chest, watching her red heels heading towards the sink.

“I’m feeling peckish. Have you eaten lunch?” she casually questioned.

Jaw muscles working overtime, Five shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied through gritted teeth.

The sink squeaked on, the water splashing as The Handler washed her hands. “Great. How would you like to eat with me in my office?”

The water turned off.

Knees bouncing, Five anxiously bit the inside of his cheek as her heels clicked closer.

“You can eat solid foods, and I can live vicariously…” The tips of her sharp fingernails hooked over the door in front of him, followed by the plume of her platinum white hair “-through you,” she finished, as she peeked at him.

Reactively folding in on himself, the stiffness from the file hidden under Five’s vest crinkled. It was just the smallest amount, but it was enough to make her eyes narrow with vicious glee over how fucked he was.

Giving the best smile he could summon, Five cocked his chin at her as confidently as he could, nodding. “Sounds great,” he answered, sounding every bit the liar he was.

Despite her claim of a burnt rugae, and not being able to eat more than liquids, Five knew The Handler was toying with him. This was all part of her sadistic game; one he’d been playing with her ever since she plucked him out of his apocalyptic nightmare.

He knew that his plan of getting in and out of the Commission headquarters and finding out who he needed to take out to stop the apocalypse was quickly going down the crapper if he didn’t find a way to get her off his back.

With no other choice, forty minutes later, cautiously eyeing her, his well-practiced mask of civility in place, Five pushed his cafeteria tray in from the edge of The Handler’s massive desk and folded his hands in his lap.

“Care for a dessert?” she questioned.

“No, thank you.” His lips quirked. “I had a bad twinkie in the apocalypse. Kind of put me off desserts.”

The Handler leaned in, pushing her crystal candy dish in Five’s direction. “Please indulge me,” she insisted. Waiting, she lit her cigarette, taking a long drag as she rocked back in her chair.

Forced to oblige her again, Five moved forward, picking up a tiny foil covered candy from the dish. While he was contemplatively savoring the sugary, Commission engineered flavor that had miraculously captured all the nostalgia of 1955 drug store with their soda fountains and malted milkshakes, the viper in front of him hit her intercom, calling in Carla. Not a minute later, she joined them, setting down a long, flat box on the desk in front of him.

Five quickly stood up as The Handler sauntered around her desk to join him. Blowing a plume of smoke towards the ceiling, she gave a wave of her hand, encouraging him to look inside the package.

He lifted the lid, revealing a black 3-piece suit, one that clearly wasn’t meant for him to wear while in his currently, less than desirable thirteen-year-old body.

“Don’t look so pouty, Five,” The Handler scolded, like he was a real child, not just someone that looked like one. Further patronizing him, she ran the tip of her finger under his chin, making him look at her. “This situation is temporary,” she assured, grinning even more as Five shifted on his feet, but remained under her pitying gaze, with nowhere to go but right where she wanted him. “Just like those delicious candies you just got a taste of. Here at the Commission, we have all sorts of tricks up our sleeves. We can make things the way they were, and better.”

Fighting the urge to blink away, the Handler thankfully dropped her hand before stroking it over his boyishly soft brown hair, petting him, but Five could tell she was about to do it and that was bad enough.

Skin crawling, he scowled.

“Clothes make the man, Five,” she clucked. “Won’t it be nice when you can actually wear it.” Five looked back down at the suit. “Very soon… They’re perfecting your body as we speak.”

Just the sight of the finely tailored men's clothing made Five want to believe what she was saying was true. But hating himself for even considering trusting her again, his stomach sank even further than it already was because it didn’t matter if she was telling the truth.

He wasn’t going to stay with them long enough to find out if they could fix him. What he wanted didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving his family. That was all that ever mattered.

Still, looking at his feet, there was no hiding the twinge of pain he felt twisting around inside of him. “Thank you. It’s a very kind gift,” he softly replied.

Shutting the box, wanting to block all of that out, with his hands burrowing in his pockets, Five turned around, strolling over to admire the Chinese flamethrower he’d noticed on the way in.

With only a small sign of interest in it, soon, he had The Handler proudly showing off her other trinkets she’d gathered while doing the work of the Commission. After that, Five had thought they’d moved past the bathroom incident, so it was the perfect time to carry on with his real agenda.

“Since I am part of the team upstairs now,” he started, “may I make a suggestion?”

“Of course, please do,” The Handler replied as she picked up her Walther pistol, the one Hitler supposedly used to kill himself.

Five smiled cordially as possible, his eyes naturally wandering towards the gun. “Wouldn’t it be simpler for case managers if we removed Gloria from tube operation and did that part ourselves? Isn’t she an unnecessary cog in the wheel?” he questioned, deliberately using his employer’s own words to further his point and hopefully make her think he was buying into all her lines of bullshit.

Moving right past Five’s attempt to shift things in a way he could manipulate them, The Handler laughed. “Gloria has been with us for ages. There is no way we could function without her.” Gun still in hand, holding it up to let Five get a closer look, she leaned in and conspiratorially whispered, “We aren’t supposed to take these things, but…he wasn’t going to use it anymore.”

She straightened after that, the heat of her larger body and the feel of her flared skirt moving away from Five’s backside, but unfortunately the minimal distance from her only made it slightly easier for him to breathe.

“Speaking of the perks of this job,” she said, winking at him. “I know about a place that serves a pie that rivals those candies you were just sucking on.” Metal clicked as she cocked the gun. “Like this death dealing piece of metal here,” she pointed the barrel at him, closing one eye as she aimed. “It's one of a kind.”

It took everything inside Five not to move.

Sniggering over how perplexed he looked, she finally lowered the weapon. “Let's go get you a treat worthy of celebrating your first day back with us,” she said. “Then…” She stepped over, putting her pistol back in its case next to her pile of M26 Vietnam era grenades. “After we get you a proper sugar fix to refuel that brilliant mind of yours, I’ll let you get back to work so you can prove to the rest of upper management why I wasn’t wrong about bringing you back.”

Walking to the door, The Handler picked up one of the Commission’s huge briefcases, extending her hand towards Five.

Slowly coming closer, all he wanted to do was run, but adding to his other mistakes of that day, he didn’t.

Chapter 4: Too Sweet

A few seconds later, Five was inundated by the sounds and smells of a small diner, one that looked like something you’d see back in the 50’s, only a flat screen TV behind the counter was playing a music video, so it was immediately clear that they weren't in that era.

As they stepped up to the podium, a middle-aged woman looked up, greeting them with a tired smile. “Out of school already?” she asked, looking down at Five.

The Handler proudly grinned at Five as she replied, “For him it is, and he’s been such a good boy today, I decided to bring him for a piece of your famous pie.”

“We rarely get to see young faces in here these days, but once you’ve tried our dessert, you’ll be hooked,” the woman said as she led them in, gesturing to a young man that was sitting alone, with his back facing them as he ate at one of the middle tables.

Already irritated, Five snagged a newspaper from one of the uncleared booths as he passed, shaking the crumbs to the floor before he slid into the vinyl covered seat across from The Handler.

“It’s 2008,” he murmured as his eyes moved over the page.

He glanced around again.

Based on what he could see outside, he knew that they weren’t far from the Umbrella Academy.

The Handler had brought him to his family's home turf, only at a time when he wouldn’t have been with them anymore, and most of them weren't living there anymore either, but the question was why?

She never did anything without reason, and this obviously wasn’t about the food.

About to question her, Five was interrupted when a younger server came by, setting down his dessert.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Five set the paper down, addressing the blonde waitress. “And a cup of coffee. Black,” he said, smiling a little too sweetly.

Apparently not at all charmed, the girl in her later twenties looked to The Handler for approval, and Five could no longer hold in his ire. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked down at the table.

Sounding tickled as ever over all of this, The Handler approved of his caffeinated beverage, followed by a joke about caffeine stunting his growth, which made Five hate her no less.

Eyes roaming around the diner again, Five noticed it wasn’t very busy. Besides the young man with his headset on who was totally absorbed with something on his laptop, and a few other old couples that were dispersed throughout the restaurant, that was it.

“Here you go, enjoy,” the waitress said, coming around, setting down his steaming mug of coffee.

Picking up his fork, though not at all hungry for the cherries covered in fluff, with his other hand, Five reached for his coffee, bringing it to his lips.

“She was pretty,” The Handler conversationally noted while he quickly drained his cup.

“Who?” Five asked, his fork filled with berries waiting in front of his mouth.

“The waitress,” The Handler replied, sounding even more amused by his oblivious reply.

Five hadn’t even noticed, which again was probably why the evil woman across from him was smirking. It’s not that he didn’t admire a good-looking woman. Dolores was a woman. It was just that-

“It’s unimaginable how lonely it must be…” The Handler dangled, interrupting his depressing thoughts about why it was so hard for him to do much more than look when it came to anyone that he found attractive.

Not taking the bait, Five said nothing, his fork slowly setting down on his napkin with the bite of food still on it.

“You're restless… Discontent. I see that as plain as that cute little nose on your fresh new face,” she furthered.

The tip of her shoe brushed against his knee sock.

Pushing himself back in the booth, as far away from her as he could get, Five looked away, noticing the young man who had been studying at the table next to them was now looking at him, his eyes focused on the crest stitched to the breast of his dark blue Umbrella Academy blazer.

Five loudly cleared his throat and the young man’s startled eyes met his, the look of confusion in them only getting worse. By now, as far as history was concerned, Five would have been missing for six years, not to mention he wasn’t supposed to be a little kid anymore.

“How I feel doesn’t matter,” Five finally said, rebuffing The Handler’s comment, while looking back down at his napkin.

“Sure it does,” she countered just as fast. “A man like you…one whose needs are hardly being met, is a man, tick tick ticking…like a bomb, just waiting to go off.”

Under the edge of the table, Five’s fingers curled into claws that wanted to dig her eyes out. He leveled her up with his glare. “Just spit it out! What you want? We are drawing unwanted attention, and I personally don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, Five, “she tittered. “Why always so dour?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Call it a habit born out of expecting the worst and always getting it.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms over her mounded bodice. “You ask what this is about? Well... It’s like that suit I knew you’d love. I just want to keep my agents happy.”

“Sure you do,” he sarcastically mimicked.

“With that case you had today…” She paused, raising one of her perfectly manicured brows. “Taking care of the Hindenburg with something as simple as seeing to it that a tainted roast was delivered to the right person… Now that was genius, and I expected no less from you. You didn’t pull the trigger, but the success of the job well done was no less satisfying, am I right?”

She was right, but lips pursed tight, Five refused to admit it.

“Be careful, Five. Pride is your Achille's heel, that and that tragic longing you have for acceptance and approval. You try to hide it, but I see right through you.”

About to jump the table and strangle her, Five picked up his fork instead, taking a bite of the flaky crust and berries, angrily swallowing it down as he pretended to be interested in the sticky looking ketchup bottle sitting next to the other condiments.

She’d hit a nerve. And worse, she was still on to him. The file on Dot’s desk covering his apocalypse was empty, and he should have known it would be, but he’d thought The Handler had let that go.

He had to be better than this.

He couldn’t let her get the upper hand this time.

This time, Five had called her, and come to them of his own free will.

This time, he was going to show them what happened when they tried to play God with him and the people he cared about. He just needed to get back to the main office again, so he could do some digging, and then no more Mr. Nice Guy in the cute little schoolboy shorts.

A small smile pulled at his sugar covered lips as he thought about the grenades he saw in her office.

Looking next to him, the kid who had been eyeing him up had started packing up his things.

“You need something to come home to, to fill that void, and scratch that itch,” The Handler pushed, clearly not done with whatever point she was trying to make. “You need something, or maybe better put, someone to exercise your demons.”

With an even worse sensation of unease hitting him, not at all comfortable with where any of this was going, Five looked back at her.

“Someone who knows just how to take care of you…” she said, “someone to turn that frown upside down.”

Five’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t follow.”

“You need a pet, and this place is exactly the kind of place to find the special kind of pet you need, because…” she plucked her sleeve, pulling it up a little so she could look at her watch, “because in just about four minutes, thanks to the gas line leaking under our feet, this place, and everyone in it will be no more. They are all free game.”

The Handler’s malevolent gaze moved to the table next to them, her crimson painted smile more devious looking than Five had ever seen it.

All at once, it dawned on him that she wasn’t talking about a furry sort of pet.

Hands sweating as he drew them up the navy-blue fabric covering his tensed thighs, he shook his head. “No,” he croaked, his voice catching in his suddenly dry throat.

“Don’t be so unimaginative,” she fired back.

“You must be confused, because I have no idea what you are talking about,” he lied.

“Really?” she mocked. “Our assassins come from some very dark places. You included. It’s perfectly understandable that a man like you has particular needs that are not exactly easy to fill, considering your past, and current condition… Relationships of any kind are not exactly where you excel, Five.”

Shifting his legs under the table, Five tried not to let her see how that had sung, but just like the young man next to him, who was waiting for his bill, his fingers anxiously tapping the tabletop, it was obvious that he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“It’s no secret that others in our employment have taken advantage of their unique positions,” The Handler furthered.

She pointed to the boy as Five watched him nervously swallowing, the dips and curves of his throat slowly moving, the look of it so sinfully alluring that he felt even warmer.

“What do you think of him?” she asked, as if they were discussing an item on the menu, not another person who could probably hear them.

“I don’t think anything,” Five shot back, the shrillness of his voice making the other young male look over at them again, his eyes filled with what Five could for sure see this time was much more than frustration with how long it was taking to get his check.

The implications she was making were already making Five’s stomach roll, the acid of his lunch painfully adding to the forced bites of his pie.

He may have been extremely reclusive during his years working for the Commission, but Five had heard the rumors. Having a life in your hands of someone who was already written off, opened the door for the possibility of all sorts of bad things to go down, other than violent bloodshed.

“I never did that,” Five breathed, thinking about two agents in the locker rooms during training who were telling stories of having their way with their victims before they put a bullet in their heads.

“Oh- Oh, I know. You are much too sweet to do something like that,” The Handler assured, followed by a mocking laugh. “It is quite surprising though that you haven’t given in. You of any of our agents had every reason to,” she said, her tone dripping with saccharin sympathy.

She came forward, her hand reaching out to touch Five’s where it was hotly pressed to the table.

Fingers prying his hand up, flipping it over, she opened his palm, then purred, “You are missing something, Five. You know it. We all know it, and you're dying inside because of it.”

Five looked down at the syringe she’d just placed in his hand. Heat crawled up his neck; his blazer felt like it was a fur lined parka rather than a ridiculously tailored piece of summer wool.

He knew they were watching him all those years he suffered in the apocalypse, alone and on the edge of madness as he clung to the hope that he could get back and end this.

He knew they never stopped watching him, even after he’d signed away what was left of his soul to them.

All he’d ever had was himself, and the emptiness of that sometimes felt so crushing that he could hardly breathe.

Just the feel of The Handler’s fingernails seductively dipping under his cuff, gliding along his Umbrella Academy tattoo, had Five so overwhelmed he was nearly paralyzed, stuck on the verge of either blinking himself away, or falling further into the flood of emotions he was drowning in.

Instead of doing either of those things, he schooled his expression to one of indifference. Unblinking, his reply came out unwavering. “In exchange for the life of all my siblings, I agreed to work for you again, but I do not need or want this, so drop it.”

Looking unconcerned by Five’s refusal, The Handler stood up, her hands coming to her hips, straightening the tufts of sheer fabric that covered her couture A-line skirt. “We are the lucky few that exist out of time, Five. I never settle for subpar out of life, and neither should you. I take what I want, for example, like this Dior dress from the premier 1947 collection.”

“This is over,” he deadpanned, menacingly rising out of the booth as he looked her dead on, ready to kill her.

She burst out laughing. “Five, you are too easy. I was just joking with all that.”

“You were joking?”

“Yes, but tick-tock, we are on the clock. Time to collect what I really came here for, which was that handsome young man over there, only for me, not you. Hop to it. Go get him.”

As soon as the young man she’d been talking about was done signing his bill, the diner’s pen skittered across his table, hitting the floor as he bolted for the door.

“If he gets away, our deal is off. I’ll just get one of my other agents to retrieve him,” The Handler warned, her expression confidently calm as she held the briefcase up, a sign that she meant it. Like always, she held all the power.

Trapped like always, right before he blinked, Five’s hand tightened around the needle in his hand.

Chapter Five: Do Unto Others

Number Five Hargreeves, or the boy as they had called him, was a legend, but he wasn't supposed to be there sitting with that creepy bitch, his smug little face looking at you as he ate his pie. 

Laying there as they implanted their device inside your neck, you heard and saw enough to understand that you were somewhere you shouldn’t be, and he should be there either, but he obviously was, and he wasn’t there because he wanted to be. The restraints made that clear enough, but Five’s verbal threats of killing all of them confirmed it.

Somehow, they knew what you could do, or at least the people in charge there did. When Five had attacked you, you could tell that he was genuinely shocked by it. Seeing him there in that diner, you knew something was wrong. You should have taken off the second you saw him and that woman, but you didn’t, and now you were totally fucked, getting marched along like a mindless solider, there to do their bidding.

As they shoved you inside, looking around your new cage, otherwise known as Five’s shitty apartment, the Commission agents dropped a file on the kitchen table, ordering you to read it. Then they reminded you, that if you didn’t do as you had been told, or if you stepped over the threshold of the exterior door, you would be first electrocuted again, then if that didn’t stop you, and you kept trying to get away, the device in your neck would be manually triggered, and then you’d be dead.

In their hospital, after starting to regain the use of your limbs, the first thing you had done was try to escape, and that was how you knew they weren’t kidding about the electrocution thing. 

As that little Umbrella Academy asshole in the next room howled in agony, your feet hit the floor, your knees coming down on the cold tiles a second later thanks to your body’s refusal to cooperate. Looking down at you as you knelt at her feet, the one they were calling The Handler grinned at you, then she hit a button on a small switch she had concealed in her hand.

It felt like a bolt of lightning struck you in the head, reverberating through your entire body.

“Ssst- Stop-op-pllleeeaa-ssss-tttt-” you stammered as the aftershocks caused your body to spasm and your eyeballs to roll back in your head, getting stuck there, jittering. 

Your teeth clattered together so hard you tasted your own blood, and it hurt so much, you even pissed yourself, but she didn’t care. “Don’t do that again,” she chirped while smiling at you.

No way, you had thought. You weren’t going down like that. 

You almost never did this. You knew it wasn’t right. All you wanted was a normal life before this, but staring at her, your pupils instinctively dilated, the swirl of colors hidden in your irises flamed in outrage. “Let me-!”

You got zapped again before you could even get the words out to compel her to let you go, not that it would have mattered if you had said it, because the shorter, darker skinned, woman that had just came in was looking back at you with the same hypnotic glow of insistence you'd just had in your eyes.

“Relax,” she soothed. “You are going to listen to me now. Do you understand?” 

Your eyes drooped tiredly, and your mind slipped into a fuzzy state of forced contentment. “I understand,” you replied.

The Handler looked at the younger, much more casually dressed woman. “Lila, please tell him exactly what I said to you about how this is going to go from here on out.”

The deep pools of chocolatey brown gazing at you filled with even brighter light, and even through the control she was wielding over you, you still sensed a flicker of something in them, hitting you the way your power normally did when you were the one doing this invasively cruel act. 

She wasn’t the only one invading brains in that room, but she didn’t seem to be aware of that. They didn’t understand exactly how your power worked, or maybe it was just that since it wasn’t hers, she wasn’t able to fully command it the way you could. Either way, this Lila person didn't want to do this and that meant you still had a chance.

Where you were filled with fear, and rage, that thanks to her was now muted to a dull sense of lingering nothing, she was filled with a deep need for love. Thinking so much like Five had been as he came at you at the diner, appearing in front of you in a crackling burst of blue energy and violent momentum, Lila saw no other way. To get what she wanted, she needed to follow the orders she had been given, but with Five, you had seen that it was all a ruse. 

Five had thought he could outwit them. You were just collateral damage getting in the way of a much bigger purpose that was driving him. 

In those sad, pale green eyes, you had seen the end of the world, and him in it, alone. He’d already lived a lifetime of wanting things he’d never have. Being loved didn’t matter.

The glimpse you’d seen of the things Five endured were…

There were no words.

“Get him up,” The Handler demanded, and just like that, you were being lifted off the floor by the nurses that had dragged you in there.

Hardly able to hold yourself up, they supported you between them, your head sluggishly turning towards the room where Five was. He was laying there, totally naked, thrashing, and screaming for help that no one there was going to give him. 

“Look at me,” Lila said, and pulled by the invisible thread she’d already weaved into you, you did, your eyes nothing more than blank slates of light, burning blindly, seeking direction. “Do you know who that is in there?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Good. From here on out, you are allowed to do whatever is necessary to take care of him, to keep him…sated. He is yours, and you are his.”

Making a mistake, she looked at the real woman in charge, for just a fraction of a second, allowing you to come back to yourself enough to process what she’d said in a way that you were sure The Handler did not intend.

“When he arrives back at his apartment in a few hours,” Lila continued, locking eyes with you again, “bind him to you with your power. You will never leave his home, and he is never to leave this timeline unless we say so. Your entire purpose is to see to it that he thinks he wants to be here.”

The words, ‘unless we say so,’ lingered in your head, giving a window of opportunity that you couldn’t quite put together yet, but with that, it was still done. You had no choice. You had to do as she said, and even more awful, you wanted to.

Chapter 6: Hurt

Having cleaned up and changed into some of Five’s old man flannel pajama pants and one of his short-sleeved undershirts, you were sitting at one of his only two wobbly kitchen chairs when the door to his one room efficiency apartment burst open.

In nothing but a hospital gown that they hadn’t even tied closed, they lugged him inside, carelessly throwing him down on his bed with his back facing you. As soon as the two brutes shut his door, Five began to sob, his entire, noticeably larger body, shuddering uncontrollably. 

Gasping for breath like even breathing was hard for him, his left hand moved between his legs, the muscles in his bicep and forearm tensing from the repeated jerking movements of his wrist.

Staring at his bare ass as he writhed, you slowly lowered your spoon back to the bowl of canned soup you were eating. 

“Shit,” you breathed, hardly able to believe what you were seeing. 

Five was older, not looking really much different in age then you, when only an hour before, he was just a scrawny little neck stabbing douchebag. You knew he wasn’t really a kid. You had seen the picture of him, pre-maturely snowy white hair paired with a mustache of pepper and salt. You’d read about him as they'd directed, getting more acquainted with him to do your job, but this…

This wasn’t right. Five had not wanted them to do this. You had watched him desperately trying to get away.

They had hurt him with what they’d done, and he was still hurting, though you couldn’t tell if it was physical pain, mental, or both. Either way, you knew that he was jerking off, and the people at the Commission were monsters.

But then again, so were you, and so was Five.

Like a switch had been flicked on inside your brain, Lila’s voice circled around inside your head.

Bind him with your power.

He is yours.

And you are his.

Keep him sated. 

Closing the manila file that was filled with documented evidence that Five was not at all what he seemed, you shifted in your seat from the unexpected feeling of your own cock stiffening. The second the metal of your spoon hit the side of the porcelain bowl, he went completely still.

In a flash, he was on you, blinking across the room, his now much heavier body weight slamming into you, knocking you backwards while still not even up out of your chair.

Your head cracked against the ugly linoleum floor, your brain bouncing inside your skull as he pinned you under him, his strong arms and legs easily countering yours as you tried to throw him off.

“Get off of me, you fucker!” you shouted, rapidly blinking your eyes to clear the stars from your vision, but it didn’t work fast enough.

One of his hands came around your neck, ruthlessly choking you. “NO!” Five snarled, as you grabbed at his face, trying to make him look at you. 

Apparently, he was on to you and what you could do if given the chance because he forced your cheek to the floor, but just as fast, you jabbed him in the ribcage. Sucking in a pained hiss, he let go of your face, and you reached up, yanking him by his freshly grown mop of tangly dark hair, bringing your faces back together again.

Eyes ablaze, you gurgled, “S-top figh-ting-ME!”

Caught off-guard, Five couldn’t look away, but he fought back anyway, bucking his hips against yours as he tried to shake his head from your hold. The long, hot, hard length of his dick became even more wedged against yours, with nothing between you, other than his flimsy hospital gown and your borrowed pajama pants.

Feeling what you were feeling, because there was no way he wasn’t, looking even more ballistic, Five tried to throw his head back then forward to headbutt you, but that only made his cock rut into yours harder, and you didn’t let go of his head.

His face came forward anyway, his nose brushing against the tip of yours. His mouth gaped open as he gasped, his moist breath coating your lips.

Trying to speak again, he tightened his hand. Your words weren’t coming out, so you tried speaking to his mind instead. 

Focus on my eyes, Five, nothing else. I am not the one you should be fighting. Let me go!

The smallest flame started to reflect back at you as he watched the swirls of color building in your eyes. He was falling under your spell, but he still didn’t let go of your neck.

You almost had him, but you were growing dizzy from lack of oxygen. Your own eyes were fighting to stay open. You were sure that he was going to succeed in snuffing you out, and all the crap The Handler and Lila had done to get you there would have gone to waste, but then Five’s already ghostly pale face started to look more ashen. 

His sweaty brow furrowed, his face suddenly looking a sickly shade of green.

He started to gag.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! your mind screamed at him, right before he emptied the contents of his stomach, some of it splashing up on you even though you’d pushed his face to the side at the last second.  

With nothing left in him, Five finally let go, then he collapsed, his face burrowing against the start of bruises already forming along the length of your neck.

As your chest rose and fell, your body taking in the air it had been denied, the now much longer hair on the top of his head fluttered with your labored breaths. He had listened to you because he had no choice, but you also had a voice inside that wasn’t yours, and you couldn’t silence it.

‘… you are allowed to do whatever is necessary to take care of him.’

The heat between your bodies was about as impossible to ignore as the feel of his erection next to yours.

You laid your hand against the small of his back. Five flinched from even that lightest touch, but you kept your hand there.

“Everything hurts. It won’t stop,” he cried, the wetness of his words as his mouth opened against the side of your throat as heartbreaking as his tears washing over your skin.

Chapter Seven: Trust 

“You need to get up,” you told Five, letting the warmth of your hand slip away from the curve of his lower back, but only after he’d quieted. As you pushed your elbows into the floor, trying to sit up, you felt the slickness of his vomit coating your arm. “That is so gross,” you huffed in exhausted irritation.

Coming out of his delirium, Five started untangling himself from you. Now that he wasn’t ordered to look at you, he refused to meet your gaze. He looked down at his diamond patterned hospital gown instead, and the impressive tent he was making out of it with his dick.

He looked horrified.

Staggering to his bathroom, you watched him disappear, slamming the bathroom door so hard it rattled everything inside his small apartment.

Hearing the sound of Five taking what had to be a very sloppy, and very difficult to execute piss, you looked down at the floor. 

“What a fucking mess,” you muttered, right before a loud, man-sized thud hit the wall.

Coming inside the bathroom to see what he’d done now, you were greeted with the sight of Five slumped on the floor, wedged between the toilet and the bathtub, a space that didn’t look at all comfortable, or like he’d put himself there intentionally.

He was trembling. Now that you weren’t holding him together, he was falling apart all over again, and there you were, doing not much better, covered in his puke, trying to figure out which you wanted to do more, kill him or…

“Shit,” you said, sighing as you threw a frustrated hand back through your hair.

Pulling his knees towards him, burying his head in his hands, Five mumbled through his fingers. “I didn’t want to do this to you. I had no choice.”

“I know, but I still hate you,” you said.

He looked up, his eyes glistening. “Why are you here…with me?”

“Because they want me here. I also have no choice in this. If I walk over that threshold, my brain stem is going to end up deep fried like a churro. Speaking of which, you have no food here. Why have dishes when your refrigerator is empty.”

You reached back, your fingers gingerly grazing the stitches that they had only just closed a few hours before. You winched, triggered by the memory of debilitating pain The Handler had graced you with.

The line between Five brows deepened.

“What are you doing to me?” he questioned.

“Nothing at the moment.” 

It was true, you weren’t, but he didn’t look like he was buying it.

You glared at him. “I’m not the one responsible for your Alice in Wonderland, magical sizing up issue, or that hefty boner you’re dealing with,” you said, and you swore you saw the tiniest twitch in the corner of his mouth. 

“No. You are not,” he coolly replied. “I am being hit with six years' worth of developmental hormones all at once, so clearly that was not what I meant, and I think you knew that. What’s your excuse?”

Looking slightly less venomous, he glanced at the flannel covered outline of your semi hard cock, the shape of your mushroom tip still protruding enough that the thin fabric wasn't at all hiding it.

“Maybe I like getting pounced on by wiry old men with big dicks,” you replied, only half joking as you extended your hand. 

To your surprise, he took it without you making him, but he swayed on his feet the second you’d pulled him upright.

“Well, you know what they say about skinny guys with big shoes,” he said, looking loopy as hell.

“What? That they are huge assholes?”

“Something like that,” Five said as he put a hand to his stomach and grimaced, stumbling back into his sink, looking way too pale again.

“Let me help you,” you whispered as he looked up at you, his new height still not quite matching yours and only made worse by the way he was struggling to stand up straight.

Shaking like a leaf, you could tell Five was going to take off again, or barf, so you planned your next words very carefully, saying them in a calming cadence that only added to the trance-like state you were putting him in with your eyes.

“You are safe with me, Five. I need you to do as I say. Don’t try to get away from me, or them. You want to be here with me. We are both staying here, me never leaving this apartment and you working for them, doing everything they say. Confirm that you understand that.”

He nodded and very subtly, you motioned around you, warning him in case he hadn’t already known.

Sending a message to his mind only, you said, They are listening to us, maybe even watching.

He nodded again that he had heard you.

“Take in a breath,” you said, taking a long slow breath yourself, trying to calm your nerves.

He did too, holding it.

“As you let it out, you will feel the pain inside you melting away. All of it gone.”

The words filled his head, a warmth of something he didn’t understand dulled his sickness and fear as he obediently exhaled.

“Say, ‘I trust you,” you demanded.

“I trust you,” Five repeated, a fire from deep in his eyes burning back, letting you know that you had him.

Saying nothing more, you helped Five to the edge of the shower, urging him inside, keeping him upright with your slightly larger frame as you stepped inside with him.

Chapter Eight: Coming Together, Coming Apart

Positioning him with his back facing you, the warming spray of the shower head began covering you both, filthy clothes and all.

Now that he wasn’t attacking you, or on the verge of collapse, you really looked at Five, taking him in, your eyes trained on the muscular swell of his narrow, but strong looking hips.

He was so…

Fuck.

As if he was the one that held you in a trance of sexual subjugation, you gripped the length of your shaft, your fingers moving to the tip, stretching the material around your thick glans. The evidence of how turned on you were seeped out of you as you squeezed your girth, adding to the already rapidly darkening fabric.

“You are going to stand here and say and do nothing unless I tell you that you can. If I ask you something, you will not lie to me. Do you understand?” you said.

“Yes,” Five softly answered, still hypnotized by your power, even though he could no longer see into your burning eyes.

You had never done this to anyone before like this, and the thrill of taking control of him like this, in this way, only made it that much harder to stop.

Your breath cascaded down the back of Five’s neck and he shivered. You pushed the sleeves of his hospital gown down his arms, letting it drop at your feet. Hands coming to his hips, you pulled him back against you, the curve of his firm ass pressing against your reawakened, fully hard cock.

Five stiffened at first, but as your hands slowly moved around, your fingers relishing in the quiver of his toned stomach muscles, you heard him let out the quietest moan, and you felt him push back against you of his own free will.

“Do you want me to touch you like this?” you breathed, already knowing he did.

“Yes,” he gasped, sounding so pained, and so broken, that it made your balls quiver and your cock twitch.

He was so fucking beautiful. Everything in you wanted to destroy him, but you took no more than that, just relishing in the feel of your dick being enveloped by his hard ass cheeks. His body was nothing but lean muscle, and you knew just what he could do with it too, only now, Five wasn’t walking around as a thirteen-year-old. 

If given the order, now, like this, at the prime of life, he’d be so much more lethal than he was before. 

He is yours, your mind whispered, and fuck yes you wanted to believe that, even without Lila’s voice telling you that was already true.

Reaching for his shampoo, you glopped a squirt of it in your hand, then brought it to your head and face, washing away any remaining traces of the stomach splatter he had gotten on you. Then getting more soap, you brought your hands to Five’s head, massaging your fingers into his scalp. 

Already going weak in the knees with pleasure over the feel of it, Five’s head rolled back on his shoulders. Biting in a moan, he had to reach out, his palm pressing against the glass shower door to support himself. As you worked your hands down his neck, kneading his shoulders, then the long curve of his spine, he let out a series of puppy-like whimpers that only made you want to hear more intoxicating noises like that coming out of him. 

“Have you ever done this with anyone before?” you questioned.

“No. I only had Dolores,” he whispered.

You knew who Dolores was. The mannequin's picture was in his file. You let out a shaking breath, and kept going, your own sighs mixing with his, turning into a throbbing ball of pain and a full-bodied ache of frustration the more you touched him, but you couldn’t stop. You could practically feel Five’s tight rim clamped around the base of your cock as you took what was left of his innocence, ramming him balls deep as he screamed your name.

Playing with his wet stomach, you explored the shiny grooves of his abs as they twitched, making his cock stutter and bob between his legs because it was so painfully erect.

“You want me to help you take care of this?” you questioned, knowing he wanted to touch himself so badly, only he couldn’t unless you told him he could. 

“Please, yes! I- I need- It won’t-”

He couldn’t even say it. Five was so distraught, for all you knew, he’d been sporting a hard-on for hours, unable to do anything about it as he lay, strapped to that operating table in front of all of them.

Releasing him, you quickly peeled your shirt over your head, then took hold of him again, arms coming around, holding him to you as your hands worshiped his chest, fingers splaying over his small tight nipples before tracing patterns across his abs again. 

“Nnn-ahhh,” Five keened and wriggled, overstimulated and overwhelmed by being handled this way.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Five?” you questioned, your mouth greedily coming to his neck, sucking at the salty taste of his delicious skin.

Something inside hadn’t abandoned him, because even though you’d asked Five a question, he didn’t answer it that time.

The darkness in your mind felt like it was suddenly eating at you. You needed him to comply. Your eyes flared with anger as you reactively bit into him, your teeth drawing a cry of pain that made Five sound like the boy he had looked like only hours before, and that only pissed you off even more.

You hated this, but you hated even more than you didn’t.

Fighting the voices and the desire to do worse to him, your mouth moved along the crest of Five’s shoulder, breathing him in as he trembled. “Shhhh,” you hotly warned, kissing him so softly that he deliriously whimpered again. 

His hand slipped along the glass as he began to move, but just as fast, you took hold of him, taking his uncut cock up against his abdomen, pumping your hand along the veiny length of it.

“Fah-ah-aaahhckkkk,” he groaned, automatically reacting to the new sensation with his hips springing to life like a bouncing rabbit. 

You loved the sound of that, and the feeling of him rocking against you. He needed this so badly you could feel him throbbing in your hand. “Tell me what you want, Five,” you said while slowly fucking him with your hand, the pressure of your confined erection screaming at you to be released so you could slap the hot mounds of his ass with it.

“I want this! Please, fuck! I need to cum!” he cried, as you looked over his shoulder, longingly taking in the sight of the pearly string of fluid that was steadily leaking from his swollen red slit onto his taut torso. You smeared his bloated glans around his navel, letting his pre-cum slick your fingers, making it even easier to move them up and down his big cock.

Sliding the hand you had at his hip, back over his cute ass, you brought your fingers to the tight ring of puckered flesh hidden between his cheeks. Five flinched and lurched forward from the invasive sensation, but circling his rim while rolling his foreskin up and down, teasing his cockhead, you were determined to tangle the programing in his head that was used for interpreting right and wrong, making him associate you playing with his ass, with pleasure.

“I only want to make you feel good, Five,” you promised, then slowly inserted your finger up to the second knuckle, then pulled out again, repeating the pattern of in and out, dragging slowly.

Soon you had him panting and his thighs quivering. Not blinking away or even attempting to stop you but again proving that your power over him may have been slipping, Five cried out, “Please, Ffff-!” 

You weren’t sure if he wanted more or less, but pulling out of him, you ran your fingers over the bar of soap sitting on the small shelf next to you, bringing the sudsy fingers back to his hole. With no foreplay this time, you plunged your finger into his virgin hole that was so tight still you knew it would deny your cock entry.

Five growled as he closed his eyes, helplessly rocking against your hands and you loved it way too much that he wasn’t even capable of being ashamed or forming words anymore. 

Obliging his desire for more master playing with his puppet, you pumped him faster and harder, penetrating him with a second finger, crooking both digits as you twisted them and tapped them against his prostate. Five moaned so loud and raggedly, the needy tremor of it was almost enough to make you blow your load. Instead of doing that, or bending down to lick his ass hole, you shut your eyes too, focusing on nothing but him and the hypnotizing sounds of his hitched breaths.

“You like me fucking your hole like this, Five?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Fucking, ffff-” he breathed as he threw his head back against yours.

Straining, Five clenched his groin muscles, his entire body shaking with the first waves of his orgasm. His release hit him so hard, if you hadn’t been holding on to him, he would have slipped and fell down on the slippery shower floor.

His come was so hot as repeatedly spurt out of him to the rhythm of you fucking your fingers against his prostate, the milky strands of it covering your hand, flicking up, going everywhere. Working him a little longer as his body rested back against yours, you nuzzled the scruffy wet feel of his hair against your face, then you gently pulled your fingers from the seduction of his trembling hole.

You wanted nothing more than to feel Five in this way, surrendering all of himself to you because he'd done it completely willingly, but as soon as it was done, the painful disappointment of your reality cut through the words Lila had tried and failed to imprint on your brain. 

Forcingly spinning Five around, your eyes filled with a mirage of blissfully dancing colors. His own pupils, still blown dark with his lust, instantly went glassy, reflecting back eerily, the entire sclera glowing bright.

“Go find something to eat, and then get in your bed, and go to sleep. You have work in the morning,” you told him.

Waving a testing hand in front of his face, as if drugged, Five grinned back so stupidly that all you wanted to do was to kiss him silly, and that made the ache in your chest even worse. 

You slid the shower door open and repeated the order. “Go. Do what I said.”

Getting out, like the good little hypnotized time traveling assassin now made case worker for a bunch of demented dickheads, Five reached for a towel, tying it around his waist before he stepped out into the cold air of his apartment, hair still dripping beads of water down his back as he headed towards his kitchen.

Realizing you perhaps should have told him to dry off, and put some clothes on, rather than think on that mistake for even a second longer, you slammed the shower door closed, pulled down your pants, dropped your forehead against the tiles, quickly jerking yourself off with his name on your lips as you came.

Chapter Nine: I know Not What I Do, Only I do

As you had laid in Five’s bed, a few feet away from where he slept so peacefully under your spell, you knew this couldn’t go on, and seeing him walking in the door now only made you feel that way all over again.

Looking around Five’s small apartment, you smiled again at how he’d cleaned it that morning. While quietly getting ready for his day, he’d made sure you didn’t have to deal with the dried puke mess on the floor, or how he’d accidently pissed all over the toilet the night before. 

Coming home, Five looked so handsome and full of life, his new black suit clinging to him in all the right places. When he shut the door, your eyes met his for a second before he looked away. He was clearly uncomfortable, despite being forced to trust you being there in his private space. 

“I brought food,” he simply said, moving to the table to set down the brown bag he had carried in with him. “It’s just something I picked up, but I promise after work tomorrow I will go shopping for things to fill that empty refrigerator.”

He slipped off his suit jacket, placing it over the back of his chair, then sat down, taking out two containers filled with something that smelled so good it instantly made your mouth water. 

He smiled hopefully as he opened his dinner, gesturing for you to do the same.

Five was taking care of you. That was not something you had compelled him to do, but there he was, doing it anyway. 

As he started eating, you saw him looking over at the Commission’s file that was still laying on the table between you, every time you saw him do it, he would look away, nervously tapping his foot under the table. 

You didn’t care what it said. Five Hargreeves, the monster they’d made, the man that had killed so many innocent people, and had taken you away from your life, all because an evil woman told him too, was not what that file said he was. 

After several bites of food, the thickness in your throat was too much. “Five, look at me.”

He did, as if you’d made him, only you hadn’t.

“Is it true what The Handler said about that diner…about me dying there if this hadn’t happened?” you asked.

You watched him slowly swallow. “Yes,” he replied, again uncomfortable with this, but trying so hard not to show it.

Raising your fork again, you took a deep breath and nodded.

Silence resumed as you both ate.

When you were both done, you could tell that Five didn’t know what to do with himself. When he had looked like the older man in the picture underneath the cover of that file, you could only assume that even then, he didn’t have much to cling to in this place, other than scheming to get back to his family. He’d done it too, only the poor bastard got himself stuck right back where he was before, only two days later.

Leaning back as you pushed out your chair, you crossed your arms over your chest. You grinned. You couldn’t help it with him sitting over there, frowning as he ran his finger over the scratches etched into his tabletop. 

When he pulled his lips to the side, looking even more sulky, you let out a little chuckle.

“Something funny?” he coolly questioned, with such irritation souring his expression that your smile grew even bigger. Finally looking up, he glared at you through the messy pieces of hair dangling in his face

“No. I just like looking at you,” you honestly replied.

Flipping his head back, Five raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but you saw the smile pulling at his lips as his hair fell right back, annoying him all over again.

Drawing invisible pictures, he went back to jiggling his foot against the leg of the table.

“Are you bored, need help figuring out what to do with your night, other than studying your tabletop?” you teased.

To your surprise, Five suddenly disappeared, a rush of air hitting you when he reappeared less than a second later, standing right between your outstretched legs, one hand sitting on the table next to yours. He lowered himself even closer, his eyes boring into yours so hotly it felt like he was trying to light you on fire with them.

“What if I am bored? Are you going to play with me again?” he challenged.

You smirked as he rubbed your knee, the crotch of his pants already tented so big it was making it so hard for you to think of anything else other than playing with him again. Hormones still raging or not as the reason for it, Five’s dick was silently begging for attention as much as he had been.

You spread your legs a little more. “I could play with you and tire you out like I did last night, or since I am pretty comfortable right here after my long day of doing nothing, I could fill that spray bottle over there under your kitchen sink with water and squirt you in the face with it until you leave me alone.” 

“If you spray me, I will hump your leg and bite at you,” Five countered, his voice seductively sweet.

“It looks like we have a problem then,” you said as your eyes burned for him. “What are you going to do about it?” 

Five dropped to his knees between your legs. As he reached between your thighs, groping you, you instantly felt yourself getting harder. You bit back a moan and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “I can’t say no if this is what you want, but I shouldn't do-” 

“Quiet,” he whispered, pressing a finger to your lips, cutting you off as his breath purposefully ghosted against your ear. “I have wanted to do this all day.”

As Five stroked your cock through the frumpy gray dress pants you hand taken from the limited selection in his closet, he moved his lips along your cheek, coming to your mouth, where he kissed again, his slightly parted lips happily taking in your gasps.

It was his first real kiss like this, and he was perfect, so soft, so delicately insistent.

Lust hitting you hard, your eyes instinctually flamed brighter with need. Five kept going, unzipping your pants, pulling your cock out, only breaking away from your mouth to look down at it, the length thick enough, but at the head, where you were slightly thinner, you flared out with just the right girth to cause some major damage.

"Five," you breathed and closed your eyes as he began to kiss you again, this time thrusting his tongue in, twirling it around yours.

There was no question if this was wrong or right. No thoughts wasted on why you felt the way you did about him. 

When you reached down, cupping him through his pants, Five groaned and held the side of your face with his other hand, wrestling with your tongue, ramming his own as far into your mouth as it would go.

Forcing your lips away from his, even as he tried to nibble like a puppy on your lower lip, you gave a sharp laugh, rolling your eyes at him. “Are you trying to fuck me, Five?” Pushing your ass into your chair, stomach flexing, your hips fucked into his hand, taunting him.

When Five didn’t answer, you knew why. His brain couldn’t form the right response, and that was because he didn’t know what to say or do all of a sudden, like you just asking that had shaken him out of his own self-induced super horny trance. 

“I think it’s time for you to suck me off, sweetheart,” you mocked, and just like that, eyes glowing back, at the perfect height to bend over the length of dick in his face, Five did. 

Tentatively tasting you, you felt his tongue slide around your glans, causing you to anxiously twitch under his gentle touch. Growing bolder again, Five slid forward, grabbing your hips, aggressively pulling you to him, proving how strong he could be as he sucked the head of your cock between his silky lips. 

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, clutching the back of his head as he took as much of your erection into his mouth as he could. 

Even though he’d never done this before, Five was proving he wasn’t just very good at killing people and turning his own life into compete fucking chaos. Right now, the most important thing in his mind was your dick and he was owning that hot mess too.

Slowly letting him work into it, the building ache between your legs felt as good as your cock felt gently rocking into his throat. Like before, you were trying so hard to be careful with him. You had told him he was safe with you, that all he wanted was to be with you, but fuck…

The heady smell of your crotch and salty taste of your cock as he licked you and your fingers gripping his hair had him so excited, he was trembling with excitement. The tension building inside you just as strong, along with the ingrained need to take back control, you took his hair, pulling his head back. His mouth came off your cock with a pop as he looked up at you like he might snarl at you he was so mad. “Jerk off while I cum down your throat,” you said as you laughed at him.

As his mouth came back around you and he tore into his own pants, ripping his zipper down, you watched him start stroking himself, and that about sent your eyes rolling back in your head, but you forced them to stay open, dizzily admiring how fucking amazing he looked jacking off his big cock while he went doing down on you.

All you could do was enjoy every wet smacking sound you were making together. Your cock was swelling and leaking even more with his efforts and that only spurred him on even more.

You were inside his mouth and inside his mind. You could feel how much he wanted to taste your release, to swallow your gushing lust for him, letting it consume him, but before he could get you there, you pulled his head back again, frantically panting, and that only made Five look even more proud over what he’d done to you. 

He gave you a sloppy smile and you felt like your heart might burst out of your chest.

He wanted to drown in you, and you felt exactly the same about him. 

You took his hand. "What do you want, Five?” you asked, needing to hear it out loud.

“I want to give you everything,” he replied, his eyes still glowing as he meekly peered up at you.

You didn't know what to say to that and with it, the hand you were holding went slack as Five blankly waited for direction. You untangled your fingers from him and his hand fell next to his body.

You reached out, brushing your fingers across his smoothly shaven cheek. “Five, you have to promise me that if I do something you don’t want, you will tell me. You have to tell me the truth, always.”

He said nothing.

“Do you understand!” you worriedly pushed.

“I understand. I will tell you if I don’t want something. Only the truth.

“Do you want your clothes off?”

“Yes.”

You started unbuttoning his waistcoat, your hands shaking as you pulled back the tailored black fabric from his toned waistline. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you whispered as he pushed his pants down the rest of the way, clumsily kicking out of them, then his shoes.

“I can’t stop thinking about how good it feels with you,” he said, struggling out of his dress shirt even before you had it all the way unbuttoned.

Taking him by his tie, you pulled his face to yours while squeezing his cock. 

Falling into you, he submissively whimpered. 

Your teeth flashed at him, just like your eyes. “Tell me, Five…do you want me to fuck you again? Or do you have something else in mind?”

“I want you again. You make it so easy for me. I don’t even need to think with you. That's what I want,” he quickly shot back, so fast and high pitched that you had to laugh at how rushed and eager he sounded.

Hearing Five admit that only fueled the dark arousal burning in your gut.

You smirked and shook your head, cupping his balls.

Five furrowed his brow, looking genuinely confused until you shuffled him back and pushed him down and on his bed. He was so hard, his long cock slapped against his torso, and that was so fucking hot you could hardly take it.

If he did fuck you, you’d really be fucked.

Dropping your pants to the floor, throwing off another one of his borrowed undershirts, you wedged your body down over his. Instinctively, Five spread his legs making room for you. You hooked his legs around your hips, pulling him closer until he could feel the heat of your cock pressing against his.

Leaning forward, kissing him softly, your dicks slid together. Gripping them in your hand to make it better, Five moaned into your mouth with appreciation.

Rubbing off against each other’s cocks, you started nipping at his neck, leaving hot trails of your tongue anywhere you could reach.

“I need you inside of me…” Five begged, trying to rut into you even faster.

Hearing him say that, you rubbed the rigid tip of your cocks against each other, a groan rumbling in your chest because it felt so good. Bringing your other hand between his legs, the pads of your fingers started circling his hole. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you breathed against his neck as his legs gave out, flopping to the bed as if you’d just rendered him useless by tickling his asshole, but then, just as fast, he kicked into overdrive, moaning your name, the heels of his feet digging into the bed so he could frot against you faster. "I can take it. I need you, please...fuck, please-" he growled, evidently not at all incapacitated.

Five gasped when you tilted his hips, pulling your fingers away from his ass, but then the hot tip of your cock slid between his legs instead and he looked so cutely frozen with nervous anticipation over it, stuck between terror and just not giving a damn anymore. 

“Not yet,” you said, laughing, just before flipping in him around like he weighed nothing more than blow-up fuck doll.

Like a man possessed, coming in behind him, your eyes trained on his ass crack, you gave him a good slap, making him hiss and bite at his pillow in retaliation. If that wasn’t indication enough that he’d liked that, the way he curled in, his hand coming to his dick, fondling it just as angrily confirmed it.

“Hold still and be a good boy, and I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll never be able to forget it,” you promised, laying another handprint on him as you smiled.

After pinching his ass, making him growl a little more, you trailed your hand down his spine, leaving it in place on the small of his back. You spread his hole open, revealing his tender pink skin. “You’re amazing, so perfect, Five,” you breathed, meaning every word of it.

Reaching for his bedside table where you'd seen that he had a bottle of lube hidden under his dirty magazines, you dug around, then finding what you needed, popped the cap, squirting some of the watery fluid in your hand. Swirling it around his rim had him flailing, so being even more generous, you massaged his taint too.

“Oh fuck, this feels so good,” Five cried, grinding back on your hand.

“I told you to stay still,” you laughed as you yanked him to the side of the bed, reaching between his legs, pulling his cock back, stretching it down against the bedspread. Once you had him where you wanted, you pinned Five’s crotch flat against the mattress, admiring the view of him laid out for you like that.

You let your fingers linger along his ass crack again before drifting lower, groping his tightly hung balls. You gave a firm stroke along his shaft, finishing the torment by gently pinching and squeezing the flared strawberry shaped thickness of his tip, making him drizzle a hot trail of pre-cum against the bed.

Probing your slicked finger at his ass, when you finally entered him, Five, whimpered and tried to grip his cock again, but you slapped his hand away.

“You bastard!” Five screamed, rabidly humping the side of the bed as you worked his glistening pink asshole.

Twisting and turning your wrist, you smoothed your finger back and forth across his prostate, altering between that and jabbing it in and out of his hole. Panting curses, Five spurted even more onto his bedspread with his rim pulsing against the base of your fingers.

He squirmed and tried to lift his ass when you pulled out, but then you sunk a second finger, scissoring into him, holding him in place with your other hand, not letting him up even after you’d brought in a third digit into the fun and he was crying out like you were killing him.

You looked down at the swell of your cockhead hanging over his ass. You knew this was going to be hard for him no matter what, but just the thought of your dick jamming in Five’s asshole made your breath hitch and your heart beat even faster.

“Please,” he yelped as you pulled out of him, taking your time, lovingly tugging his long, heavy erection, covering it with the lube left on your hand.

After repositioning his shaft down against the side of the bed again where you could keep an eye on it, you spread a line of fresh lube on your own cock, coating it until it shined and throbbed, rock hard. Ready, you tossed the bottle on the bed and grabbed Five’s hips, flipping him around. 

Pulling him close, Five looked you right in the eye as you pressed your thick, swollen glans against his puckered flesh, giving it a few pushes to test the resistance. It was still too tight to accept you unless you forced it.

“Five, you don’t have to do this,” you said. “Tell me right now if there is anything inside you telling you this isn’t what you want. I’ll stop, I swear.”

Five was silent, totally still for a moment, then he whispered, “I want this, with you. Only you. Please. I want this more than anything.”

That wasn’t true. He wanted to save the world and his family more than anything, but dying a little more for him anyway, you leaned over, lining your throbbing tip against his hole as you tenderly kissed his parted lips, your tongue caressing his as you slid against his opening.

“I only want you too,” you whispered back as you felt the pressure on your cock increasing. Sinking in, you pulled out almost right away and you felt the sweet feeling of his asshole trailing the thick head of your cock, sucking at it like it was begging for it to come back, but Five was trembling so hard it scared you straight. Your brain doing the thinking for a fraction of a second, you asked, “You, okay?”

Frantic, he nodded. “Burns,” he breathed, swallowing hard. "So-so good though.”

Slow and careful, you pushed into him again, your head swimming from the sensation of his body clamping around you. 

An inch in and Five gasped and fisted at his bedspread.

“That's it, you’re doing so good. Just relax,” you whispered, increasing the force of your thrusts the more your cock entered him. “You’re so tight, so perfect, Five. Ffff-” you hissed between clenched teeth as you pulled back, watching his straining red rim follow your cock back as you pulled out, gripping and caressing every inch of you. 

“Thank you,” he moaned, saying it again and again, each time your cock reached a new part of him.

“God, Five, fuck,” you gasped against his ear, your stomach sliding along his sweat covered body as you came down next to him again, unable to stay away. 

At your mercy, you jarred his body into the bed with your strong thrusts, starting to fully fuck into him like a wild animal.

“No-matter wh-what, your mine,” you rhythmically grunted, as you rolled your hips into his ass, your cock sliding freer by the second as Five took the abuse, relaxing into it even faster because your power was making his body obey.

Your hands gripping his ass as you thrust into his asshole, bucking against his body, Five slurred back, “I’mm- Ya ya-yoursss.-” 

At this point, he was mumbling all sorts of sounds you couldn’t understand. He threw his head to the side, burying his face in the blankets as if it could ease the overwhelming sensations he was feeling. Saliva slipped from the corner of his mouth, and you wiped it away for him.

Seeing him that way was breaking you.

"Look what they did to you, Five!" You gripped his jaw, making him look at you. "I'm the only one who gets to ruin you,” you said, lowering your voice. “Not them. Say it.”

“You’re the only one. Not them,” Five quietly cried, his head swaying as you violently pounded into him and his hips humped mindlessly, his asshole clenching down on your dick. 

“Don’t let them away with this,” you said, your mouth at his throat, your voice so low with rage and your mind so gone that it only pulled Five deeper into your head and into this madness.

A sharp shock of pain shot through him as you cock bottomed out, but you held his wrists down to stop him from writhing. You kissed his brow, whispering your regret. “M sor-sorry, Five. So fucking sorry.”

His entire body shuddering, on the verge of climax, Five didn't know why you were saying that. Trapped between your bodies, Five’s cock leaked all over him, and you, but the friction he was getting wasn’t enough. He wanted to scream.

When you put your hand to his throat, the fire in your eyes as your fingers enclosed his windpipe would have been terrifying if not for how much he wanted to see it, and hear you ordering him to touch himself

Obediently taking his cock in hand, Five quickly started beating off.

Plunging into him hard and fast, his ass smacked your pelvis. Over and over, you took him, harder and faster, until you were both delirious with pleasure.

His oxygen cut off, his body under your command, Five started to come.

"Five," you gasped, tears clouding your eyes as he let go of himself completely, pawing at his sheets with numb hands.

One second you wanted to escape what you'd done, then the next you knew you couldn't fathom it, and all you wanted was to keep him here like this as your prisoner for the rest of his life, and the abject horror of that was too much.

You locked your arms around his shoulders, bearing down as you hurtled in and out of his increasingly slack ass, relishing the wet squelches and reverberating smacks that accompanied every rapid thrust. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Five’s voice was strangled and frenzied, his repeated gasps, wet and dripping with desperation. 

You slammed into him to the hilt and didn’t pull out, deeply grinding your cock into him so hard you could see the bulge of it pushing up in his stomach. 

You felt the spasm beneath you that rolled down Five’s spine and pulsed in his ass, making him wriggle and writhe against your crotch as spurts of cum burst from the tip of his cock. Then everything got hotter and tighter as your cock erupted inside him.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you gripped Five harder. He thrashed as you spilled, ruthlessly filling him with your seed. 

He howled as your hips slammed into him one last time, a wall of pleasure coming undone that made him cum a little more too, his spent cock twitching as his balls emptied everything he had left.

For a couple of minutes, you were both still. Five’s apartment was silent except for the sounds of erratic breathing. You didn’t want to move, but if you didn’t, you might collapse.

Pulling out, his body jerked from the loss. Where he’d felt so unbelievably full, the shock of your retreat brought tears to Five’s entranced eyes.

You crawled up next to him, the warmth of your body pressing next to his as you pulled his chin towards yours, leaving your thumb resting against his kiss swollen lips.

He shut his eyes, looking so beautiful. 

You told him he was.

You told him to look at you.

As he did, you could feel it that Five was aware he was hypnotized. His mind was fuzzy, as if his head was filled with cotton, but you holding him felt cozy and warm and safe. It was like for the first time in his life, nothing bad could touch him. 

He wasn’t lying. This was what he wanted.

While listening to you speak as he watched the motion of your lips, Five felt like the world was operating in slow motion. He could see the glow if his eyes reflected back in the sadness of yours, but he still didn’t understand why you looked that way. All he wanted was to make you happy, and he hated that you seemed like you weren’t.

What more could he give you? he wondered.

Your eyes misted over.

This wasn’t about that. This was about what you could give him.

“Listen very carefully, Five,” you whispered, so quietly there was no way the Commission’s spying mics could pick up what you were saying. “Tomorrow, get what you need to get out of here. When you have it. Go. You need to jump back to the exact point you left. Even if you can get your hands on a briefcase, you still need to jump like you did the last time. Go back to the exact same body you had before, change the math to make it happen. Do you understand?”

“But you can’t leave,” he said, looking so confused. His hand came back around your neck, his fingertips careful not to touch your fresh incision, but the point he was making was clear as the pain you felt over this.

“I found a way out. I will be with you. This is the way it has to be. Tell me you understand, and that you will do this for me.”

He said nothing. 

“You are doing this,” you insisted, the pools of your eyes lighting up with swirls of power he couldn’t escape. “Tell me that you understand what you are supposed to do. You need to take your Umbrella Academy uniform with you. Change into it if you still get it on. No one else needs to know this happened to you. Say you’ll do this for me.”

“I’ll do this. I understand” 

With you, like he’d said, everything was easy. There were no doubts, no thinking, so his answer came out of him as free as he finally felt. 

You’d said you would be with him. That was exactly what Five wanted, in his mind and his heart.

He smiled, and you smiled back.

Unable to look at him looking back at you with that look of softness in his glowing eyes, you pulled him flush with your body, the curve of his warm backside pressed to you in all the right places. You brushed your face against the nape of his neck, tenderly applying kisses to his cooling skin as you whispered a continuous chant of how much he meant to you.

With words of love, you lulled him to sleep.

Listening to Five’s soft breaths as he slipped away in your arms, lost in his dreams, you shut your eyes, but like the fiery presence of your power that remained ignited for him, clinging to him as much as you were with your arms, your tears couldn't put the fire out.

Chapter 10: What Defines Us

The next day, just like the one before, Five dressed and got ready for work, but before he left, he bent over, placing a feather light kiss on your forehead, then he tucked you in, ensuring you didn’t get cold without him there cuddling you.

You felt him doing it, but you kept your eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Biting in your smile, you thought of how sweet he was, how as soon as you were asleep, and you could no longer dominate him with your power, he’d reversed your positions, making you into his little spoon. 

What you wouldn’t give to know what it was like to be with Five, for even one more day, with him getting to just be him, and you just be you. 

What could have been?

Hours later, your mind still linked with his, you felt it when Five snuck past the tube operations room, following Dot. 

He was so focused, so dead set on doing what you said. 

Taking a deep breath, doing the only thing left you could do to help him, buying him some time, you stepped out the door of his apartment, your knees hitting the pavement as the sensor in your neck activated, alerting the Commission's agents you were trying to get away. 

“The Handler knows that Five is up to something,” Dot nervously said, handing the order he had seen her typing to Gloria. “Send this to Hazel and Cha-Cha immediately.”

As soon as Dot was gone, in a flash, Five was behind Goria, thumping her in the back of the head with his pistol.

As The Handler was hatefully looking down at you as you foamed at the mouth and her agents dragged you back over the threshold of Five’s apartment, blinking into an empty office he'd staked out earlier, Five sat down, opening the tube. “Reassignment: Protect Harold Jenkins,” he muttered, his eyes wide in recognition of what this meant. 

This was what he’d come for.

Heart racing, looking at the door, listening for any sign they were out there, he quickly got to typing new orders for The Commission’s moronic mask wearing assassins. 

The old typewriter clicked, and the paper whirled as he pulled the new orders out.

Quickly stripped and wriggled back into his way too small academy uniform, with the words, Terminate Hazel for Immediate Extraction, and Terminate Cha-Cha for Immediate Extraction on the office memorandums in his hand, Five blinked back to the tube room. 

“Didn’t you like the suit I bought you?” The Handler said, wandering in, narrowing her eyes at him after he’d sent the second tube. “And…you know that’s not how we do things here. Where’s Gloria?”

Five turned, hands in his shorts pockets as he shrugged. His fly wouldn't even go up because the wool covering his ass was so stretched so tight, but he didn't give a shit that he looked like Luther about to burst out of his clothes. “Oh, I couldn't find her anywhere,” he replied, just as the woman in question groaned on the floor behind her desk. 

The Handler shook her head at him. “You’re a great disappointment to me. You and that other promising face I so generously gave you to keep you company. You can’t change what’s to come, Five. I truly find it so odd that you can’t shed this fantasy. You’re a first rate-pragmatist. You belong here with us.”

“I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” he snapped.

“You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.”

Blinking, Five disappeared just before the bullet she fired at him flew through his chest. 

Reappearing behind the shelves, The Handler kept stalking him, her free hand reaching in her pocket. “With the click of this switch I have right here in my hand...” 

She paused. 

Laying on the floor, as you looked up at the sun shining in from the only window in Five’s apartment, the pain hit you again. Before everything went black, all you saw was the happiness in Five's sweet eyes as he looked up at you, his lips softly smiling.

The Handler let up on the switch, her hand coming back out of her pocket, joining the other on her gun trained at Five. “He’s gone,” she continued, and that is on you, not me. Just another death on your hands.”

The connection to you severing like a knife being stabbed through his heart, enraged, Five blinked, right in front of The Handler, his face covered in a sheen of sweat, his teeth bared. 

“We both know that you have a limit,” she sang, at him, her gun pointed at his face. “I saved you from a lifetime of being alone. You owe me.”

She pulled the trigger.

Click, click, click.

Five grinned as she tried over and over to kill him but had nothing left in her chamber to do it.

“You didn’t save me from a lifetime alone,” he said, “He did! And I do owe a debt.”

He blinked, landing behind her, pulling the pin on his grenade.

“But it’s not to you,” he finished, wiggling the piece of metal in her face before he bowled it along the floor under her feet.

Blinking again, his fingers shaking so badly he almost couldn't dial in the date he needed on the briefcase, the numbers Five had to use to get back home flew through his head, but all he wanted to do was go back to stop this from happening to you but your voice in his head lingered and he couldn't refuse it yet.

You had told him this was how it had to be. You told him you’d be there with him.

You’d lied. But you’d done it for him, to save him.

Clarity was a bitch.

His teeth on metal as he pulled the pin, Five took off running, turning as the explosion rocked the briefcase closet, blowing out the glass windows. 

In a fiery blaze, Five was gone. Landing on top of the bar in the living room, back at the Umbrella Academy, pain racked his small body. He’d been hit somewhere but he couldn't tell where. It didn’t matter. You weren’t there, the feeling of you inside him was gone, and that hurt more than anything could ever hurt.

He was so fucking mad!

And fuck did he need that coffee Allsion was holding. 

He had the briefcase. He had time in his hands, he quickly rationalized, doing what he always had to do, which was survive, and cling to hope.

Someday, he’d get back to you. Like he hissed at his siblings as they looked at him like he was somehow more nuts then than he was when he’d appeared out of pulsing blue vortex, falling on the ground in the courtyard during Ben’s funeral, Who cares if dad messed us up? Are we gonna let that define us? No.

Now Five was more hell bent than ever on seeing this thing through.

He was going to fix this, and not just for them. Even if you weren’t in his head anymore, he wanted to do it for you.

Someday he’d go back and save you the way you’d just saved him. He knew what it felt like to look into your eyes, floating in a bliss that was a gift only you could give.

The warmth of his blood seeping into his rumbled dress shirt, chucking the empty coffee cup behind him, Five looked at his family who were standing there looking dumbfounded as ever.

He grinned crazily. 

One day, he didn’t know when, but he would know what it was like to be loved by you again. 

You were his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's it, my lovies. Please don't hate me for what I just did. You never know, maybe our new boy isn't really gone. And Five of anyone can get him back either way. He just needs figure out how and do a few more things first. 😉

Please let me know if you liked this one with a like, re-blog or a comment if you have some feedback you want to share. It means so much to us writers on here to see that stuff.

I hope you liked this. I know I did. I really liked this hypnotic young man with Five, and I am so happy I got the original request from my friend with the idea for the pairing. Developing him a little was so fun and I really struggled with not making this into so much more. I could see so much happening here but I fast tracked the shit out of it so it didn't end up like one of my other novel length Five stories. 😂

Link to all my other Tumblr Story and art posts

Link to my Five Centric Master List

Link to visit me direct on A03m

[rogerswifesblog-updates]

Bad girls are the sweetest

A/N: hi! I can’t believe that I’m still waiting for my shadowban to be lifted (on my main blog @rogerswifesblog ) it’s been a month!😩 anyway, here’s a little something for y’all, I hope you’ll enjoy reading! Read the warnings first! Leave some feedback and don’t forget to reblog!:3

Summary: The avengers are pursuing a new enemy. For months. But finally they manage to catch them.

Warnings: Blood, Injury, enemy!reader, Violence (choking, not in the nice way), Insult, SMUT, crying, Squirting, Fingering, DP, MEAN!steve, dom!steve, sub!reader, implied subspace

Pairing: mean!dom!Steve Rogers x villain!(sub)!reader

"left, left! Go left," you heard Captain America's voice carry through the corridors. He was right on your heels. You had no idea how this could have happened. You were always one step ahead. You always knew everything, what to do next, where to hide and where to go. Everything went according to plan. Always.

But how did it happen that they suddenly found your hideout?

Suddenly something knocked you to the ground. It was a hard hit right against your back. "Ah shit...", you whispered quietly as you tried to get up. But just then someone grabbed you roughly by the arms. "Let go of me! Let go!", you growled, trying to hit the person holding you.

Somehow you managed to get up.

As you stood, you hit the captain in the ribs with a fine elbow, causing him to gasp, but it wasn’t something that would bring him down. It probably only made him angrier than he already was. That started the messy fight between you.

Just a few moments later you were on the ground. Mr.America was sitting directly on your torso, his knees pinning your arms down as he pressed his shield to your throat. "Now show us your face nicely, you monster," he growled as he ripped your mask off of your face and tossed it aside.

"What...you're a…woman?" he muttered, visibly surprised. You took advantage of this to kick him in the back with your knees as he didn’t pay attention anymore. As he fell forward, you pushed his shield away and spun with him.

"Never heard of women being killers too? Let’s see…maybe I can have a chance...to kill Captain America?", you whispered as you pulled a blade from your belt. This you pressed to his jaw, drawing a bit of blood from a little cut.

"Too bad you have your helmet on...then I could see your face while I pressed the knife into their chest. Slow and agonizing," you whispered against his ear.

He could throw you off him. Effortlessly. But he didn't. Out of fear? Most likely. (Not really)

Just as you pointed the knife at his chest, something hit you in the shoulder. Then right in the torso. With a pained gasp, you fell off of Steve as electricity coursed through your body.

"I knew you had a very specific taste in women," you heard the blackwidow ay. But the next moment, your eyes fell shut as well.

"Yoo-hoo wake up," you heard someones voice, as if through cotton. Someone tapped lightly against your cheek. Which made your head fall to the side.

You were sitting on a chair. Your arms were bound to the backrests. So was your upper body. Your legs. Everything possible was tied to the chair. It definitely wasn't comfortable.

Slowly you opened your eyes. Your gaze fell on the table in front of you. On the hands, which were leaning on the table.

"Where...where am I...", you mumbled.

"Ah, not so cocky and sassy anymore, huh? I'm sure the electric shocks weren't the most pleasant thing," Stark mocked you.

"You know, everyone thought we were tracking another Hydra agent, but I had a feeling it was someone else. A murderous woman. How many kills were there? Fourteen? Fifteen?" he continued talking. The corners of your mouth twitched upward.

"Twenty-eight," you spoke quietly as you lifted your gaze and looked directly into Stark's eyes. You saw the startled, as well as frightened, twinkle in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide.

He slowly straightened up. "Hmm, anyway-if you're not Hydra, then why are you doing it? Who told you to do it?"

You remained silent.

You spent the next half hour in silence as well. No matter what questions fell from Stark's lips. For the last fifteen minutes, you didn't even look at him. (Which definitely frustrated him.)

"All right. Have a nice night then," with those words he left the room. The metallic grips around your body opened. Slowly, you stood up. The room was very...well, definitely not homey. There was nothing. Only the table, your chair and an uncomfortable looking, small bed. You thought Stark liked to show off his richness.

Apparently not in the cells. Or whatever that was.

Slowly you sat down on the bed, sighing.

That's how the next few days went.

Tony Stark tried to get something out of you, but couldn't. Nothing. At least they brought you fresh and comfortable clothes everyday. Besides that the bathroom was also amazing, the shower head had great pressure and the water was hot. After months of hiding it was like heaven to finally be able to take a hot shower.

"Okay, Stark, maybe she needs a woman-to-woman talk," a female voice sounded from the ceiling. After that, the red-haired woman came into the room. Romanoff.

Sighing heavily, Stark stood up. "I don't have the nerve for this anymore. You have her all to yourself," he spoke as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

You looked back at the table again. Natasha sat down on the chair in front of you. "Y/N, right?" slowly you looked up, Natasha had a small smirk on her lips. "It's not getting any better for you. Either you talk or you stay here-" "and if I talk I get put in another cell? Thanks, then I can stay here too. It’s actually quite nice," you shrugged and looked away.

She was silent for a moment. "No. They can help you. you just have to say why you did it-who told you to do it. I wasn't always an avenger either," she spoke quietly. "You were in the RedRoom, I know...I heard your name a lot. Everyone knows you, Romanoff. But now you can go. I won't say anything. I don’t give a shit about your sappy story"

Rolling her eyes, she leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She remained sitting like that. For twenty minutes, probably thinking she’d be able to make me talk with her sharp gaze.

"All right, have it your way," she too left the room and you watched her go.

Standing outside the room was Steve and Natasha talked to him for a moment. What about you didn't know. Nor did you hear their conversation. "She's really not saying anything, Steve. Maybe you should go inside?" suggested Natasha. He, however, shook his head.

"I don't want to talk to that psychopath-bitch. She tried to stick a knife in my chest-and explained how she’d do it, too. So I certainly don't want to talk to her," he countered, with a stubborn tone. "Besides, I don't think there's anything good in her. She seems really vicious. Not like you or Bucky. She did everything because she wanted to-" "Steve, we don't know. Maybe she was threatened, or maybe she really didn't have a choice. Come on. Give her a chance," Natasha interrupted him. Annoyed, he looked at her. His jaw still having the remains of a slight scratch, which was almost healed. Still, you could see that there had been an injury there.

Shaking her head, Natasha walked away.

The next day, Natasha came back to your room. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" she asked. Every day they asked the same question a few times a day.

When you left the room you were handcuffed. A sly grin formed on your lips as you walked past Steven Grant Rogers. Most of the time he wasn't there when you left the room, not wanting to see you at any point. "I see your pretty face has recovered....by the way, you look much better without that helmet. Would almost be too bad to hurt that face...almost," you added quietly as you walked right past him.

Unexpectedly, Steve grabbed your arms and pushed you roughly against the wall. A painful escaped your lips as your back hit the wall, hard. Automatically, Romanoff grabbed his arms, as did Stark, who had been standing close.

"You better shut your mouth, bitch," he hissed close to your face. It was apparently a rare sight to see Captain America like that, as Natasha and Tony looked surprised and maybe even a bit frightened. "Anything else, Captain? Are you locking me up? Nothing new," you growled back, not wanting to give him any satisfaction by scaring you. Even though you felt like your heart was about to spring out of your chest. And Steve definitely heard your increased heartbeat.

One of his hands reached for your neck. "Hey hey Steve. Take it easy," Tony now interfered as he tried to pull him away, again.

You felt the grip tighten. It was hard for you to swallow, to breathe. "Trust me, there are a lot worse things that could happen to you, little one," he growled.

"FRIDAY just told me you needed my he-Steve!l what the fuck are you doing," the Winter soldier's voice rang out. He pulled Rogers away from you forcefully, as he was the only one strong enough who could actually overpower Steve.

Immediately you gasped for air and slid down the wall. Carefully you caressed your neck with your hand. Barnes pulled Rogers away with him, hitting the back of his head several times with his human hand. >>You're such an idiot, you know that? Really an idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. She may be a killer but she’s still a lady<<

That day you were not interrogated, but instead moved to another cell/interrogation room. A more comfortable one. You definitely wouldn’t tell them anything.

The next day, Stark came to your room. "So, do you want to say something? Come on, we'll help you. I promise. Even Barnes is a free man now," he spoke as he sat down.

Silently, you crossed your arms and turned your head away.

"Alright...are you alright? About...you know? Yesterday?" he said more cautiously now. You scoffed. "Because of what? Ah you're talking about dear Captain America almost strangling an inmate? I'm fine. Now get out of here," you hissed.

Tony said nothing more, just nodded quietly, before leaving the room again.

You were alone until the evening. Only Natasha came by briefly and brought you something to eat. You didn't really talk, but it was relaxing not to be bombarded with questions.

After you had eaten quietly, you laid down. But you could not sleep. You felt like you were being watched. You were aware that there were cameras everywhere, but it was different. It’s like…you could feel a presence.

Slowly, however, your eyes fell closed-but not for long, as the sound of the door handle jolted you out of your nap.

It was too late for questioning. The light were off. What the hell?

"Who is it?", you asked into the darkness. No answer.

Suddenly, someone stopped in front of you. Immediately the smell of his aftershave filled your nose. warmth spread through your body "Rogers," you said harshly. "What do you want a-" before you could finish speaking you felt his hand around your neck again, making you gasp quietly.

It wasn't easy to intimidate you, but he managed. Especially since you were alone now. No one was here to hold Steve back.

Fuck.

"Not so smart anymore, huh? That's good...you should start being obedient…you're such a brat," he murmured close to your ear, his grip wasn’t as hard as the last time.

You tried to kick him right in his crotch with your knee, but he dodged.

"Brat, behave or you won’t like what’s coming," he hissed. You tried to back away from him, but this caused Rogers to press you tighter against the wall. You were still sitting on the bed, while he was towering over you. Using his strength and position to intimidate you.

"did you hear me?" he growled as he lifted your head a little. "I hate you," you croaked as hatefully as possible. As his grip grew even stronger, you whimpered. Now you were getting scared. You couldn't breathe. His grip was too strong. Painful even.

Your hand went to his wrist, causing him to hold it a little looser. "Behave." He hissed those words in your face. You felt his breath against your skin. Your lips. You felt goosebumps on your skin.

"Nev-never," you croaked.

Steve made an unexplainable noise. Similar to a growl. You felt hot. And cold. Both. A tension built between you two. "Someone needs to teach you some fucking manners," he growled so close to your lips you could nearly taste him. "You can try. Captain," you spit back.

He pressed his lips hard to yours in a bruising kiss-almost violent kiss, too much teeth, completely stealing your breath. His teeth came into contact with yours. It wasn't a gentle kiss. Not even close. It was hungry, desperate.

Your hands gripped his shirt, holding onto him like he was the last thing holding you above. His hand slid from your neck to your hair, grabbing it harshly.

Briefly, he let go of you, stepping away from you to look at you.

"Strip. Now," Steve spoke as he took another step back, crossing his arms over his chest.

You slowly stood up, but did nothing. A small smirk on your lips. "Fine...then I'll help you," with those words he grabbed your shirt, ripping it in two. Surprised, you sucked in a breath, while the two pieces of clothing fell to the floor. This made Steve laugh in satisfaction.

"Take your clothes off or everything will end up in two pieces," you hesitated briefly, but when he reached for your pants you immediately unzipped them and pulled them down as fast as you could, just leaving them on the floor.

"That's good…such a good girl. Very good," Steve spoke as he took another step closer. Gently, he caressed your cheek with his fingertips, then slowly down to your neck, along the bruise he caused days before. “I'm sorry my sweet girl, but you just…were such a brat…made me lose my temper...I didn't mean to hurt you, sweetheart," he spoke softly as he began to spread light kisses on your neck.

A gasp of pleasure escaped your lips. Then a soft whimper.

And Steve could get used to it.

"Now how about you get on your knees and do something useful with that mouth of yours?" he spoke in a deep voice that made your blood run hot. Slowly, you nodded. Your hands slowly stroked along his chest to the zipper of his jeans. You opened it slowly.

"And if I don't?", you murmured against his neck, letting your lips gently touch his skin. "That's what I was hoping for," with those words he slowly sat down on your bed. Not saying a single word.

Confused, you turned to face him, not understanding what he was doing.

You thought he’d maybe…fuck your face or something? Why was he sitting down? Would he ignore you now?

He pulled you closer to him, but threw you over his lap the next moment. Your cheek was buried in the pillow while he lightly stroked your butt. “If you say red, I’ll stop. Remember this,” “Okay, but why-“ Suddenly, a smack. "Ah-what-", the next blow didn't let me finish. “Count it sweetheart or we’ll start over.” You nodded quickly, counting the third slap, when his palm touched your ass. Fuck, his hands were huge. And he really wasn’t gentle with you.

Tears filled your eyes by the fifth hit, while your sobbed out your words. He didn’t go easy on you. Not at all. And you could tell he enjoyed it, by the feeling of his hard dick pressing against your hip. Your skin would probably be bruised tomorrow but…but it felt so good. You could feel your pussy throb. The pain only added to the pleasure. Fuck.

“Mm, doing so good, sweetheart. Taking your punishment so well”, he mumbled after the ninth one. At this point you were crying. The tears were streaming down your face into the pillow beneath you, but Steve didn’t care about it. He even enjoyed it. Very much so, feeling as his hard dick was throbbing against your hip. Trapped beneath the tight material of his jeans.

Your ass felt sore and tingly everywhere. You wouldn’t be able to sit tomorrow. God, it was so painful. And yet you felt how much your pussy was dripping with need.

Then you felt his lips on the sore spot. A filthy kiss, which made you sigh quietly into the pillow. His fingers stroked along the wet spot of your panties. Lightly he pulled on it, watching your pulsing cunt before letting it hit your skin again, making you jump in surprise. You let out sounds of strangled pleasure: a gasping, keening, moan. You were losing control over yourself and Steve was enjoying all of it.

At this point Steve felt how his dick leaked pre-cum, dampening his boxershorts, while he rutted lightly against your hip. The damp spot getting larger with every second.

"Why do the prettiest ones have to be so…evil?" he murmured against your skin. A giggle escaped you. Why, you didn't know, but you felt your blood rush to your cheeks, making you blush an unbelievably deep shade of red.

He rubbed with two of his fingers along your pantie clothed slit, pushing slightly into your wet hole, making you whine into the pillow.

"Please."

As that one word escaped your lips he stopped moving his hand. "How quick you’re learning, sweetie. You’re my perfect sweet girl, aren’t you?" You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was grinning, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel him. Feel something.

He pushed your panties aside and let one of his fingers glide between your wet folds. You could hear your own arousal and the squelching sound while he rapidly pumped his thick finger inside your throbbing pussy. You moaned softly into the sheets, finally feeling him stretching your hole. "Fuck," you gasped. "Tz tz, language, you want another spanking?" immediately you shook your head, whimpering.

"Please-don’t- just…just...touch me...please...more," you continued to beg. This time you didn't care anymore. You wanted him. All of him.

Steve added a second finger and started stroking over your sensitive spot. A squelching sound with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the quiet moans leaving your lips. "Mmmm...you feel so good...I can't wait to fuck you," he mumbled, kneading your sore ass cheek with the other hand. His words elicited goosebumps on your skin.

For a moment he stopped moving his hand, just rubbing along your velvet walls. When he started rubbing your g-spot your whole body trembled, especially your thighs, while you tightly grabbed the pillow underneath you. The pressure sends a shock of heat through your system.

"Mmm...you're so ready for me already. I bet I could just fuck into you ...effortlessly…and even if I couldn’t…I’m sure you wouldn’t mind getting it a bit rougher, Hm?" he spoke as he massaged the spot inside you, making you mewl pleasurably. "Baby, close your mouth. you’re drooling," only now did you realize your mouth was open. Immediately you closed it with a >click< sound of your teeth. Once again you felt blood rush to your cheeks. You couldn’t believe how much control he had over you, just by using his finders. You should feel embarrassed by the lack of control over yourself but you couldn’t even think about that right now.

"I asked you a question" "Yes, please...please move...fuck me-just do whatever you want", you sobbed, trying to nice your hips against his fingers. At this point you stopped listening to whatever he was saying. The only thing that mattered was for you to get off, especially with him pressing against your soft spot.

"You have to promise me something, Sweetheart. Tomorrow at the interrogation, you will answer all the questions. You will talk, baby, yeah?", Before he had even finished talking, you were already nodding vigorously. You felt humiliated being this needy, but you hadn’t been touched like this in a while and Steve seemed to know how to please a woman.

A chuckle came from Steve. "Perfect," he began to move his hand quickly, fucking you with his thick digits, while your arousal leaked out of your cunt onto his lap.For a moment his fingers left your channel empty and he watched your pussy throb for a moment, before licking over his fingers. "How sweet an evil bitch like you can taste," he bummed as he took his fingers in his mouth, slurping loudly.

Steve let his spit slicked fingers glide over your tight rim. The wet finger at your hole made you twitch slightly. He started rubbing at your hole. Your whole body shuddered feeling him slowly press into you.

You looked back at him for a moment, feeling how desperate you were for your release. At this point you felt overwhelmed with everything that was happening around you. With what he was doing to you. While his hands roamed over your body, you couldn’t stop the moans escaping your lips.

Then you felt the other fingers press once again into your waiting pussy, hitting the special spot with a hard thrust. Especially when he stimulated your other hole you opened my mouth in a silent moan, clutching the sheets in your fists. Steve's gaze was drawn to where his fingers were disappearing into your holes, sucking him in.

"Please Steve, please...I...", you tried to say something, but nothing besides moaning left your lips. Then his other hand slid to your clit and this was enough for you. Unexpectedly a shuddering orgasm rushed over you, a blinding pleasure washed over you, making you sob out Steve’s name. Your release squirted onto Steve lap, drenching his pants.

You never had such an orgasm before. Never felt so overwhelmed like you did right now. For a moment you couldn’t even open your eyes. You hadn’t even noticed how much your legs were shaking.

"...Hey sweetie, come back to me...baby...", Steve's voice sounded like you'd have cotton around your head. You felt so incredibly light. Slowly, you stopped giggling. Giggling? Why were you giggling? "That was really hot, you know, my pretty girl?" he murmured into your neck. "Did you know you could do that?" he asked with a certain pride in his voice.

Slowly he laid you down on the bed. When he got up you saw the big wet spot on his pants. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, probably pairing them scarlet, not being able to meet his gaze.

But you heard his belt buckle being opened and falling to the floor, making you lift your gaze to watch him for a moment, while he pushed his jeans and boxers down. Enough for his hard dick to spring free. He was big enough for his dick not to curve upwards, it just hung down, even in a completely erect state. It looked as thick as his wrist, with lots of veins showing and glistening from all the precum he was leaking.

You licked over your lips, watching as he stepped closer right before you, grabbing his cock with one hand and stroking his length. The amount of pre-cum made his movements smooth while he pumped his dick, moaning quietly into the darkness.

“Come on pretty girl, on your knees”, he mumbled, already helping you sit up on the bed. You sat back on your heels, sliding closer to the edge, letting his tip rub along your lips, leaving the taste of his pre-cum behind.

He watched as you licked his taste of your lips, before opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to show him what you wanted. Please him. Let him fuck your face. Let him use you. Whatever he wanted to call it. You just wanted to feel him.

“You look so pretty like that…bet you’re even prettier with my cum all over your face”, moaned the man, pushing his dick between your lips and thrusting deep inside you, before slowly pulling away. He repeated this a few times, always hitting the back of your throat with his tip. He stopped for a moment. His heavy cock throbbed in your mouth, your tongue licking over the veins you could feel on the underside of his length.

Steve watched as you suckled and licked happily at his cock, like it was your only purpose. And maybe it was.

“My sweet girl. You just needed a cock to start behaving like a good girl, huh?”, he mumbled in a degrading manner, but you didn’t care. You probably should feel humiliated or some other kind of degraded but truthfully…you loved it. If you could stay like that, you would. Just being his good girl. His toy. His cumdump. Whatever he wanted you to be.

Shoving his dick once again deeper into your mouth, you moaned around him feeling so full. You tried to move your head a bit faster, trying to get him deeper into your throat but it only made you gag. Steve moaned, feeling your wet mouth, especially when you started fondling his balls. He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting deeper into you, making you deep throat him.

You could already tell your jaw would be killing you tomorrow, but all that mattered was making Steve feel good.

Steve grabbed your hair roughly fucking harscher into your mouth feeling his climax approaching. Before he could shoot his load in your mouth, he quickly pulled out, starting to stroke himself quickly, till he was painting your face with hot ropes of thick cum.

After coming down from his high, he let go of your hair and also pulled his pants back up, tucking himself in. “Such a good girl. You just needed someone to take care of you”, he grinned slightly, before cupping your face with his hands and massaging his cum into your cheeks and smearing onto your bottom lip, repeating it after you licked it away, humming quietly. You seemed content and even somehow relaxed.

He liked seeing you like this.

Especially coated with his cum. Being marked.

“My pretty girl”, he whispered, making you nod unknowingly. He grabbed one piece of the ripped shirt and wiped away the remains of his release, while you looked at him from under your eyelashes.

He leaned down to you, pressing his Lips softly onto yours. The kiss was different from the one before. A little slower and gentle. Very intimate.

"Get some sleep. You need rest before tomorrow's questioning. And keep the promise or your next punishment won’t bring you to an orgasm," he breathed against your lips, a smirk creeping onto his face. He moved away a little to give you a kiss on the forehead, then pulled the blanket over your body.

Exhausted, you didn't even have the strength to protest, just nodding silently.

At the door, however, he stopped again. It was dark, but you saw him grinning. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart" "Night, Steve...", then he closed the door behind him.

The next morning you were taken to the bathroom by Natasha to get ready for the day.

When you came back you sat down in the chair and waited for Tony, who usually tried to question you.

The door opened and someone sat down in front of you. Somehow you felt a shift in the air. A tension. "Who hired you?", you heard the smirk in his voice.

Immediately you raised your head.

Since when did Steve question you?

[imnotjaesblog]

Human Anatomy

Starring- Park Jisung

Warning: Jisung bites the reader on the shoulder. Smut, light fluff if you squint, biting (No Blood). Dom Y/n, slight dom Jisung (He is mainly a sub, and Y/n is a moment where she is a sub). Cursing, F.m receiving and Jisung is obsessed with reader.

Summary- Jisung needs help to study for your upcoming human anatomy exam. And who needs boring textbooks or the internet when his girlfriend can teach him everything he needs? Even if he's already heard it and done it all before. What’s the harm in teaching your boyfriend about your body all the ways he can make you feel so good?

I’m not even gonna lie not much teaching is going on.

Words: 2K

MINORS DO NOT READ!!!!

It had been fifteen minutes since Jisung arrived. The studying you were supposed to be doing alongside him grew boring quickly. You were supposed to be helping him study for a class you were way too good at. As your pen tapped on your notebook an idea came to your head. You smirked taking in his side view. He felt your eyes on him and turned to you with a warm smile. "Everything okay?" he asked. You nodded standing up.

“When I invited you over…” You began closing Jisung’s textbook with the tip of your finger. Tongue clicking from the roof of your mouth. He smirked a scoff escaping past his plump lips. His arm extended in front of him, his fingers wiping away imagery dust. Bicep fully on display from the tight-fitted t-shirt.

Something about him today just made you want to touch him, feel him. He hadn’t noticed your first attempt, bending over and exposing the curve of your ass in your blue shorts. This time you sat on the table, plush thighs spread fingering closing his book.

“I told you it was to study…help you in your anatomy class…” You trailed knocking over his textbook creating a loud slam on your living room floor. You pressed off the glossy wooden table feet meeting the ground. Jisung peered over his shoulder eyeing you with a curious gaze. You pushed his head back with your finger causing him to chuckle. You removed your shorts, followed by your panties. You pulled his chair back placing yourself back on the table. This time presenting yourself in front of him.

His expression had changed. The smug look on his face worn with a cocky smirk had morphed. Now with lips parted his eyes followed where the crease of your thighs began or ended he wasn’t quite sure. Licking his lips and swallowing hard to quench the dryness he felt in his throat it was your turn to smirk.

You leaned back just slightly making yourself comfortable. You could already feel the skin concealing you from your boyfriend start to get sticky. You could feel the tension in the room between the two of you. You slowly moved one leg to the side speaking just above a whisper.

“But now I’ve changed my mind,” you said a sensual undertone in your words as you spread your other leg apart fully on display for your boyfriend. He gawked at you, not sure where to put his hands or mouth. He wasn’t even sure how to sit properly in the chair the minute you spread wide for him. His brain becoming complete mush. But that is okay, you have a plan.

“I’m gonna teach you about the human body..” you began taking his hand. He allowed you to have complete control over him, guiding his veiny fingers closer to you. “And more specifically a woman’s body," you said.

You brought his finger through your wet folds. Letting his finger explore the outer and inner lips of your pussy. You held back your moans only allowing shaky breaths to breathe past your wet lips. Jisung groaned his cock twitching in his jeans at the warm, wet feeling of your cunt. Curiosity taking over his mind he pulled his finger back a string of your juice connecting him to you. He brought his fingers to his lip, eyes closing, savoring your sweet taste. Humming with satisfaction he brought his fingers back running through your folds and up to your puckered clit.

The sight in front of you is nothing but sinful. More sinful acts played through your wondering mind as you played teacher. "Touch me Jisung, be good and play with me," you pleaded through rough breaths. Jisung's fingers that ghosted over your clit rubbed the bound in small circles, speeding up the more he heard your moans slip past your lips. His other hand squeezed himself over his now painful jeans.

"Jisung let me see you play with yourself too," you said watching as his eyes widened. He pulled his hand back standing up, hands reaching for his belt. Instantly with a full rush, his belt flew across your living room neither of you bothering to see where it landed. His jeans and boxers shimmed down his toned thighs and long legs. He stepped out of his jeans and discarded them along with his underwear.

Sitting back on the wooden chair he placed his arms around your waist yanking you forward so you'd sit directly on the edge of the table. Licking his lips he wasted no time in spreading you open, wider than before and diving in. You moaned out loud hands running through his hair as you grinded hard on his thick, wet tongue. You chuckled from the pleasure, deciding to tease him a little bit more.

"What about the lesson baby?" you asked smirk worn on your lips. Jisung released from your lips just for a second. "Fuck the lesson," he said with a slight shrug. He spit directly on your clit taking his free hand and spreading it through your folds and on your clit. You groaned feeling his hot mouth on you again, watching as his free hand grabbed his cock jerking into his fist.

If there was one thing Jisung could get off to in this world, it was the taste of your pussy.

Jisung groaned sending vibrations throughout your body. Your walls shook, clenching around nothing. Jisung couldn't wait any longer, his hand no longer cutting it. He stood up kicking the chair back and a loud slam on the floor. His hands roamed up and down your body, before he removed his shirt and yours. Pulling his shirt over his head his long brown hair bounced right back into place. You chuckled not being able to hide your smile. You pulled him into a kiss tasting yourself on his lips. He kissed back taking his cock in his hands and guiding it to your hole.

Teasing you he rubbed your clit and around your whole with his tip. You reached down his toned stomach nails grazing and tickling his skin. He shuddered hands growing weak under your touch. Smirking to yourself your hand wrapped around his dick squeezing it causing a moan to leave his lips. Jerking him he let out a series of whimpers, starting to regret teasing you. "Baby please," he begged falling forward into your neck. His warm breath faints over your skin. He continued to rut his hips into your fist begging for you to let him fuck you.

"Please baby I'll listen. I'll pay attention to your lesson. Just please let me put it in," He pleaded into your ear through whimpers and groans. Your other hand grabbed on his hair pulling his head back to look you in your eyes. You could see the lust in his dark orbs begging to let him in.

"I'll let you fuck me baby don't worry," you said guiding his cock through your folds. He shuddered mouth falling open and eyes shutting when you let only his tip in grazing your velvet walls. Your mouth also slips open low moan leaves your lips. "I think we know how this lesson ends and the answer to the question. How does a woman have a baby?" You said darkly watching as his body shuddered, only his tip inside you. He looked pathetic in front of you. His body was wet and sticky. Hair sticking to the back of his neck and forehead. His chest rose up and down at any little motion you made.

You hovered over his lips a smug smirk on your lips. "But why don't you do me a favor and remind me?" you demand darkly leaning closer to his lips. Placing a cold kiss on his plumped lips you pulled back his bottom lip between your teeth. Your hand slid from behind his head to his neck, grabbing onto his chin and forcing him to look at you.

"She has sex," he said just below a whisper. You shook your head unstatisfied. "I'm sorry baby I can't hear you. Speak louder so mommy can hear you," you pouted, head tilted and eyes heavily focused on his. He gulped feeling his confidence fade. He had always been on top when he was with you. But lately, you've been taking over when it comes to these moments. He lets you take over him, but only because deep down he fucking loves it.

"She fucks," he spat trying to hold onto whatever power he had left in him. You smirked licking your lips. You nodded, "Correct," you said only allowing two inches more of him inside you. You could see, and feel him struggling to keep it together. He was twitching inside you practically begging with his eyes for you to let him sit fully inside you. You leaned to his ear causing a short amount of friction. He groaned falling forward. Your hands wrapped around his body holding him tightly. "And when you fuck me I want you to paint my inside white," You say for his ears only.

He gives in slamming inside you hard. You jerked forward holding onto him as he pounds inside you. You squeeze around his length of mouth falling open in pure bliss. He felt so good inside you taking care of your pussy. You let him go laying yourself on the table elbows keeping you open. His biceps flexed as he held your waist tightly in his grasp. Squeezing and kneading your plush skin. Teeth gritted as he watched himself disappear inside you. Picking your leps up he wrapped them around his tiny waist pelvis smacking deliciously onto your clit.

Your head fell back in pleasure enjoying the feeling of his cock grazing your walls, him inching deeper inside you. "Fuck baby you feel s fucking good. I'm gonna cum if you keep squeezing me," he moans slipping more curses past his lips. You brought your hand up bringing his body closer to you. He took one of your nipples in his mouth sucking on your breast. His other hand still holding you in place. You felt the knot in your stomach begin to form reaching down your sweaty torso your fingers found your clit.

Jisung replaced your fingers with his pulling away from your nipple to wet his fingertips. Taking his slender fingers he brought them to your clit rubbing it in fast circles. He brought his lips back to your breast sucking on your nipple. You flexed your hips upwards meeting his thrust. Hands roaming his body finding themselves his locks. You pulled on his hair removing his mouth from your nipple and having his lips meet yours in a wet, passionate kiss.

Both of you release a series of moans into the other's mouth. You felt your climax approaching squeezing hard against his length, "Fuck," he growled past your lips. He rubbed your clit harder the more you squeezed him. Your moans were damn near pornographic as your head fell back neck exposed as you came hard. Jisung just above your neck fell into your skin once you came, clenching around his length. His teeth sink into your skin to control his sounds.

You moan at the feeling, gripping onto his biceps and shoulders as you continued to release on his dick. "Fuck baby I'm so close," he groaned teeth leaving a mark on your shoulder dangerously closer to the start of your neck. You whimpered feeling sensitive. You shook your head feeling a gush of wetness escape past your hole drowning his cock.

"Come on baby, please. I'm so close. I know you can could for me baby," he pleaded snapping his hips hard into yours. Then sound of skin slapping echoes all over your living room.

"Take it, baby, take it," He moans out loud eyes meeting yours then his dick fucking into then back to yours. A few more thrusts and Jisung spills inside you coating your walls with his release. You feel your second release spill out of you while he rides out your highs. He groans feeling your warm juice spilling onto him. He fucked him cum and most of your release back into you, slowly slipping out. Using his finger he stuffed you back up with his cum, bringing whatever was left to his lips and then yours.

He helped you off the table leading you to the bathroom. However, you changed courses opening your bedroom and pushing him onto your bed. He laid on your bed with pink sheets legs spread and dick tall as you stood bare in front of him. Pushing himself up and back he let his elbows hold him up as you crawled towards him taking his wet cock in your hand.

"I didn't say you could fuck me baby and yet you did," you said a teasing tone in your voice. With a smug look, he jerked his chin at you a prideful smirk on his lips. "Yeah but you liked it," He said feeling a wave of confidence over his body. The moment is short-lived once you smack his dick causing a certain vibration to shock his body. Now keeping his mouth shut his eyes focused on you knowing better than to speak unless he's told to.

You placed one leg over his waist sitting directly on his cock. Sliding up and down and not placing it inside you. Humping his angry red dick and holding onto his neck. You looked so fucking hot above him. Jisung hated calling you hot because you hated it, but that was the best way to describe you at that moment. You looked so hot it made him feel beneath you and he was eating this shit up.

"Now I'll ask again. How does mommy get pregnant?" you asked eyes focused on his.

"Daddy ask Mommy if he can fuck her?" he said eyes big waiting for your response. You leaned down placing a soft peck on his lips.

"Good boy,"

Fin

Had this one in the drafts for a minute. I hope you enjoyed it! This is also my first time writing for Jisung so I hope it’s good.

Make sure to like and share if you know any other delulu nctzen who would love this.

See you soon ;)

[fishyvamp]

If you’re comfortable with it, I would be honored to get a small, ⟡spicy⟡ Amanda x F!Reader snippet! :) I’m not picky or specific on AU’s, so feel free to do any you’d like, or not at all if it’s easier! <3

Thank you for this opportunity! I’m always looking forward to your works and rambles! - Cozy

I love Amanda, the Saw franchise will always be near and dear to me as it was the first real horror movie franchise I had ever seen. I also love your work and am so excited for your upcoming fics and to be honest I had an outline already for kinktober that I never did with Amanda X F!reader.

As always NSFW 18+ MDNI (sensory depravation, blind folded, Knife play, temperature play)

I hope you enjoy it Cozy!

Your body shivered in the cold, hands bound behind your back as you felt the bite of the icy steel chair beneath you. You could hear the swings of chains around you the scent of decaying meat heavy in the air. "Looks a bit nippy wouldn't you say dear." Amanda cooed the sharp end of her knife dragging up your chest following the curve of your tits, the tip flicking a hardened nipple causing you to gasp, swallowing thickly you looked at the direction of her voice. Leather gloves tracing your hip.

You were only slightly panicked as the knife came back, dragging along to your throat pressing in just enough to feel the start of warm blood dripping down your chest. "God you are just so pretty in red." She purred you could feel the leather of her coat as she leaned in for a better look. Her body tensed as she was fixated on you. Her hands dragging the blood along your chest as she marred your skin with her blade. Not enough to hurt. No, she just wanted enough to just see you bleed. She wanted to feel the way your skin cooled as your own blood sapped the heat from your body freezing to your beautiful skin.

She loved the way your skin seemed to glow when painted this way. Her fingers dipping lower finding your clit, rough fabric creating delicious friction that was driving you mad as you leaned forward moaning into the touch, the killer spelling her name into your folds. "Tell me dear, who do you belong to?" She cooed hot breath against your sending a jolt straight to your core legs spreading further apart. "You," you whine trying to press into her hand to get more out what was happening. You were her's and only her's. A pay thing for her to enjoy and torment. "Such an eager piglet. Such a pretty piglet." She chuckles circling your greedy little pussy. "Bet you just wanna taste me inside you don't you. Want me to warm you up. Save my pretty piglet from freezing." Her hands moving away causing you to involuntarily whine from the loss of pressure. Why had she stopped what she doing? The thought going away in a moment as she shoved her cum soaked glove in your mouth.

"clean me, show me how hungry my little piglet is. Show me what a good girl you are." Amanda barks. Your tongue darting out tracing and lapping at the rough leather, your head twisting as you work every crevice you can. Cleaning what you could taste of your spend on her. This pleased her greatly a purr practically coming from the other woman. She pulled away once more. The sound of shuffling could be heard as the glove was pulled off and tossed some remote part of the room. A warm hand almost instantly finding your folds spreading and teasing them before two very skilled fingers entered you, pressing against your spongy walls. Teasing your sweet spot.

"Amanda!" You moan loudly head falling back as you tugged at the bindings wanting hold on to her to wrap yourself in her warmth. Mind flooded with the feeling of her stretching you, teasing you. As she worked to pull you apart, it was maddening you couldn't watch. Maddening you couldn't see her think. Maddening you couldn't predict what she was going to do next. "More!" You moan greedily, hips bucking into Amanda's hand. She tsked softly shaking her head, "you take what I give you piglet, and if you're not satisfied I can leave you in the cold instead." She threatened even if her fingers didn't falter. A chuckle escaping her, you had clenched around her fingers. The threat seemingly exciting you more, "such a slutty pussy, so hungry to be punished aren't you piglet. That's okay. I'll take my time. I want to make you really suffer."