#WHAT IF I EXPLODED INTO A POOL OF BLOOD

[gotmyass2marz]

whyddid a jack conte song have to get stuckin my head in the middle of class .im in excruciating pain

[banananutmuffin28]

Don't Go (I'll Stop You Before You Do)

Pairing: Se-mi x GN! Reader | Player 380 x GN! Reader

Synopsis: There's a glint of steel in the far right corner. The lights flicker on and off, but you manage to catch a glimpse of Se-Mi's face as hands wrap around her throat, as the weapon sinks into her skin.

She screams, and you run.

A/N: I wrote this on a whim! So sorry if my writing is a little subpar here, I was SO eager to get it out! I tried my best, though! (I love Se-Mi so much it hurts).

A man twice your size walks up to you, his face twisted into a ghoulish smile. You take a step back, eyes trained on the fork in his tight fists.

You try not to focus on the blood that oozed from the tip.

The lights flicker on for just a split second, illuminating his bared, yellow teeth.

He was a large, brawny thing. Muscles bulged from his bloody tracker, and he had to bend over slightly to meet your gaze. His hair was slicken with sweat--he was covered in it, really. It trailed down his veiny neck, past a tattoo of a design you couldn't quite make out, and fell onto your shoulder.

You bit back a scream.

He leaned back, amused at your expression. He didn't seem to care about the contestants fighting behind him, rather, it seemed as if he relished in it.

Lazily, he tapped the tag taped to your tracker.

"You really shouldn't have picked X if you didn't want to get hurt," He drawled. "In fact..."

The man stepped back, and continued talking, though you soon drowned out his words. Instead. you flickered your eyes around you, trying to devise a plan to escape his clutch. You couldn't stay here. You had to make sure that she's okay. You had to-

Pain exploded in your cheek.

With a gasp, you scramble backward, wincing when your back collided with the cold steel wall. Hot, sharp pain stung your right cheek and tears pooled in the corners of your eyes.

The man leaned in, trailing his fork on your neck.

"You listen to me when I talk to you, you hear?"

Hate broiled within you, and your face curled into a sneer. You shift your body to the side, hands pushing his fork back as you knee him in the crotch.

"Go fuck yourself."

The man howled, his legs buckling beneath him. He ripped his hand away from your grasp and swung his fork around wildly.

"Why you little-"

A burst of pain escaped from your shoulder, making you scream in agony. The man wedged the weapon deeper into your flesh, twisting and turning until you collapsed onto the floor.

Meaty fists plummeted against your skull again and again, each new crunch spiraling you further and further into the depths of unconsciousness.

Desperately, you roll to the side and begin wrenching the fork from his hands, fighting to keep your eyes open.

This was your only chance. You couldn't overpower him, and you can't let yourself die while Se-Mi's fate was still left unknown. You had to go to her no matter what.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but you slammed your head against his before any words could escape.

His grip loosened ever so slightly, letting you pry the fork from his hands.

Quickly, you begin stabbing the weapon into his neck, his face--anywhere that looked important.

Soon, blood was pouring from his wounds and his movements grew sluggish. The metallic liquid permeated every one of your senses, and you were afraid it would brand itself into your very soul. With a final stab, the man fell to the floor and didn't get back up. You let out a shaky sigh and crawled away from the man.

Fearfully, you looked around.

Everything felt like it was...more muted, as if you were merely a fish watching the chaos unfold from below. Your head hurt like hell, and each breath you took didn't seem to give quite as much air as it should. The wound in your shoulder was something else entirely, choosing to make itself known with every little movement you made.

Quickly, you tear a piece of cloth from the limp man and wrapped it around the wound.

Like hell were you going to bleed out now.

You look around the room, gripping the utensil with so much force that you were surprised it didn't crumble in your hands.

Where the fuck is Se-Mi?

You let out a breath and scrambled in the direction of her bunk. You supposed you were somewhat fortunate that the man ambushed you in bed, as you didn't need as much sight to devise where she was.

The further you ran, the harder fear gripped your heart. Fallen bodies lay strewn across the floor, accompanying equally as many splotches of blood.

What if one of them is her?

You shove that thought to the furthest corner of your mind.

No, Se-Mi was one of the strongest women you knew. She wouldn't let someone kill her so easily. And, she had Min-Su to protect her!

Right?

When you reached her corner of the bunk beds, you looked around wildly.

Men and women alike grappled against each other, too busy in their own fights to pay you any mind. An elderly man was clubbing his opponent with a metal pipe, a woman was slamming her own against the floor, while another group entirely cornered a lone contestant.

"Se-Mi!" You scream, loud enough to make your sore vocal cords hate you. "Where the hell are you?"

There was no answer.

"Fuck, Se-Mi, please!" You yell.

Suddenly, it was getting harder to breathe, to see. You didn't know if it was due to the lack of blood or the stupid flighty panic pounding in your chest, but whatever it was it was sapping the strength away from your legs and rendering your ability to stand upright near impossible.

A flash of Se-Mi's bloody face appeared in your mind, almost mockingly. Above her stood Thanos and his lackey, drenched in her blood and grinning from ear to ear.

No, no, no-

You can't let that happen. You won't.

Se-Mi was the only light you still hand in this damned tunnel of the world. You couldn't fail her, not now.

You had to-

And, just then, you hear something that makes your heart drop.

It was your name, whispered oh so softly that you were afraid you had imagined it. But then, you hear it again and again, and soon you were running towards the voice, uncaring of who you pushed past.

You glared into the darkness, as if your gaze could part away the dimness to reveal your beloved. If you could see just a little further, then maybe you could spot her and kill whatever bastard was hurting her.

Panting, you stop for a moment and crane your gaze to the right and-

There's a glint of steel in the far right corner. The lights flicker on and off, but you catch a glimpse of Se-Mi's face as hands wrap around her throat, as the weapon sinks into her skin.

She screams, and you run.

You run faster than you thought you were ever capable of. Your surroundings blur, the screams of the others become muffled, and in your mind it was just you, Se-Mi, and the man who was stabbing something into her jugular.

"Get off of her you asshole!" You hiss, hooking your arms around his armpits and pulling him back. In the corner of your eye, you see Se-Mi yank herself away from the (fork? glass shard? You couldn't quite tell) object and sink into the floor.

Angrily, Nam-gyu whips his head towards you and sneers. "Why, if it isn't Se-Mi's little bitch. I'm surprised you didn't come running to her aid the second I plunged that shard into her. Thought you were lying dead in a pool of blood or some shit." Hastily, he yanks your head back. "After all, you wouldn't ever abandon your master, now would you?"

"Just shut up, you asshole," You spat out, and slammed your fork onto his chest. He moved away at the last second, letting the weapon swing in the air instead.

You let out a curse as you begin to lose balance, but turn your body to the side just enough to lock his neck in your elbow. You lean against one of the pillars holding the mattresses upright and begin to squeeze, cutting his airflow.

The sight of his panicked eyes made you smirk.

"And you're one to talk," You spat out, pulling his hair to slam his head against the metal beam. "You've been following Thanos around like a lost fucking dog. I'm surprised you can make decisions without him around."

You pause, and take a quick glance around the room.

"Where the hell is he, anyway?"

There's a sharp intake of breath as Nam-gyu stills.

And then he bites your shoulder.

Swallowing back a sob, you release your hold on his neck and step backward. Whatever small blood clot that managed to form breaks, allowing the dam to break loose. Nam-gyu pushes you onto the floor, voice cracking as he kicks your ribs.

"He's fucking dead! Your side fucking killed him!"

His hands grab your collar, and he pulls you close enough for you to see the veins bulging out of his neck.

"And now, I'm going to kill you too--"

Nam-gyu doesn't get to finish his sentence.

What were once words instead turns into choked gurgles. Blood spills from his mouth, and his eyes roll back into his skull. A thick glass shard protrudes from his throat, deep enough that you knew he was a dead man walking. Another, smaller shard soon follows, spraying you with his blood.

Before long, his limp body was thrown to the side, and his filthy presence was instead replaced with a comforting one.

Se-Mi nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck, breathing shallowly. Her arms wrapped around your waist, and though your ribs and shoulder screamed in protest, you couldn't bring yourself to pull her away.

"...Thank you," She murmured, and you melted into her touch.

"It's nothing, really," You say, suddenly feeling bashful.

"No, it was everything." Se-Mi pulled away to look at you, cupping your face in her hand. "I would've died if it wasn't for you."

"What about Min-Su?" You furrow your brows, looking around. "Where is he?"

Se-Mi let out a shaky sigh, stilling in your embrace.

"It...doesn't matter."

"But it does! Why the hell would he--"

Se-Mi gently flicked your forehead, rendering your brain momentarily speechless. "Hush now," She whispered, arms bringing you close to her once more. "All that matters now is keeping you and I safe. You're bleeding."

Delicately, she rips a chunk of her tracker to use as a make-shift band-aid, tying it around your shoulder and knotting it twice. Then, she pulls you to a safe corner of the room and begins fussing over cuts you don't remember getting.

Basking in her attention, you turn your gaze to her neck and cup the wound. Though the bleeding had stopped, the size and brutality of the wound made your heart ache. It was long and ugly, like someone had taken a miniature saw and brandished it against her jugular.

Worry wormed its way into your heart.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt too much when you move?"

"I'm fine--"

"No, you are not!" Frowning, you break from her hold and press a kiss to her neck. Your gaze turns downward, noticing a gash on her leg. "You really shouldn't ignore your own needs, Se-Mi."

Protectively, you wipe the blood away from her calf and kiss her nose.

"I'm your partner, Se-Mi. We promised to protect each other, okay?"

Se-Mi smiles, and leans into your touch. She places a hand in your hair and kisses you softly. You whine and kiss her back, savoring the sweet taste of her lips.

"I know, I'm sorry" She whispers when the two of you pull away at last. "I love you."

With a smile, you intertwine your hand in hers.

"I love you too."

You didn't know what hellish nightmare would happen tomorrow, but what you knew for certain was that you would face it with her, together.

[megalony]

A Medical Emergency

Here is a new Dad! Evan Buckley imagine I had an idea for after watching the new season. I hope you will all like this.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: When Evan's son isn't well he comes down to the station for help. The team try and keep him out the way of their new Captain; Gerrard doesn't like family visits. And Evan starts to argue with him.

Enjoy.

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"I can't do this."

With a shake of his head, Evan clenched the cloth in his fist until the material felt like it was starting to fall apart at the seams and the threads became stuck between his fingers. He could feel his insides bubbling up with frustration and it was making the blood thunder to his face and pool beneath the surface.

He couldn't carry on like this. Evan couldn't continue under this insolant man's reign of terror. He had no idea how Hen, Chimney and Tommy had lasted so long when Gerrard used to be in charge. He couldn't fathom how they had managed to hold their tongues and do as they were told when Gerrard felt the need to be so cruel and needlessly harmful to them.

After the first week, Evan was ready to throw hands. Three months in and he was about to explode.

"Come on, Buck. Head down, do the job and head home." Eddie patted his hand against Evan's shoulder, but it didn't do much good.

"It's not the work, I can handle scrubbing the toilet until I can see my reflection, I don't care what job he makes me do anymore. It's the way he speaks to everyone. I 'pout' and I'm insubordinate. He's harassing us and that's sweet-talk."

It was Gerrard's mannerism and his snide remarks that Evan couldn't handle. He couldn't cope with hearing their Captain degrade every single person because he felt it made him better than them.

He constantly beat down any ideas they had but then took the credit for himself. He told them whatever they did wasn't good enough. He was racist. He was sexist and homophobic and there was nothing they could do to stop him from making remarks to them all because no one listened. The amount of complaints they put in against him didn't do a thing because the Chief seemed to think they were ganging up to break the ranks.

Nothing worked, and Evan couldn't cope.

Twisting his head from left to right, Harvey timidly looked around the environment that had become a second home to him over the years. He scoured his eyes around the station, searching high and low for the one person he wanted to see.

While his hands raked up and down his exposed arms with his elbows pinned into his waist and his forearms imbedding into his stomach like he was trying to apply enough pressure to feel his insides. He could feel his nails puncturing through the skin on his arms and it gave him that satisfying burn as he dragged them up and down his arms, raking flakes of skin beneath his nails along with small droplets of blood.

His tired eyes finally latched onto someone familiar and he tried his best to smile, despite the overall unease rattling through him.

"Uncle Chim." His head twinged to the right when a jolt ran down his neck and he winced, hissing at the feeling of his pulse throbbing in his neck. He could feel a nerve twitching down his neck and it felt like his veins were all trying to jump out of his skin.

"Hey kid. What- uh, what're you doing here?" Chimney hurriedly glanced his eyes around the station before he jogged over to his nephew.

This wasn't a good idea.

Since the moment Gerrard had replaced Bobby as Captain, no family or friends had come down to the station on visits. When Bobby was in charge, families were welcomed and encouraged to stop by, especially if they needed anything or there was some kind of emergency.

But with Gerrard in charge, they were all told to abstain from the station. Even taking phone calls was hard for the team with their Captain watching every move they made.

Evan didn't let his family come by the station now Gerrard was in charge, and Chimney didn't want the Captain to see the thirteen year old here. He wouldn't put it past Gerrard to try and talk to Harvey and make him uncomfortable or say something he shouldn't to him.

"Where's dad?" Harvey did another sweep of the station before he dropped his hands from his arms and moved to scratch the side of his neck instead.

He could feel his heart skipping a beat or two, adding palpitations into his rhythm that was becoming unbalanced. He needed to see his dad. He needed to talk to him. Harvey knew he had been told not to swing by the station for a while, but he needed help and his dad always said to find him if he needed anything.

Chimney glanced around while his hands gripped his hips. He couldn't see Evan anywhere, and he wasn't sure where he had scuttled off to after mopping the floors for a third time this shift.

"He's here somewhere. You okay?" When he glanced down to Harvey's exposed arms, he found himself frowning and taking a step closer. His arms were scratched to ribbons; again.

"I need dad."

Harvey's head ticked to the right again when he felt his pulse jump and he ground his teeth together, hissing while he stomped his foot against the polished floor. He didn't feel well. He needed to find and talk to his dad. He needed someone to help him.

"Let's go find him." Reaching out, Chimney looped his arm around Harvey's shoulders and reeled his nephew under his arm while he guided him further into the station. Hopefully he could get him to Evan without Gerrard spotting them and making a big scene out of this.

Harvey gripped the bag on his shoulder and aimed his head down as they walked. He let his uncle steer him in the right direction, being led hopefully towards his dad.

Chimney tilted his head back and pointed towards the locker room ahead when he saw both Eddie and Evan who looked like they were in the middle of a rather heated debate. But he stopped dead in his tracks when an all too familiar sight caught his attention to the left. Gerrard walking down the stairs.

The Captain hadn't spotted them yet and Chimney used that to his advantage. His hands moved to Harvey's shoulders and he quickly pushed the young boy ahead of him and steered him into the locker room to the point Harvey was tripping over his feet and his head started to spin.

"Chim-"

Evan felt his heart drop to his stomach when he looked between Eddie and Chimney before his eyes latched onto his son.

Why was Harvey here? Why was he at the station when Evan specifically told (Y/n) and the kids they couldn't come down here? He made it clear he didn't want them around Gerrard, even if he didn't specifically tell Harvey that the new Captain was an ass. He didn't want his boy to worry, but he certainly didn't want him around Gerrard either.

"Harvey, what are you doing here?" The stern tone in Evan's voice made Harvey cringe and push back into Chimney.

He glanced his eyes between them all before he looked up at his dad with unease in his eyes that were on the verge of watering. He watched his dad look to the watch strapped to his wrist before frowning at him.

"You should be at basketball practice-"

"Dad, it… it's happening again."

Evan's shoulders dropped and he looked through the glass to try and see if Gerrard was around. He would come straight into the locker room if he knew that they were all in here and he thought they were gossiping or coming up with ideas instead of doing whatever task he assigned to them. Evan did not want Gerrard coming in here and talking to Harvey.

He looked at Chimney and pointed to the door. "Make sure Gerrard doesn't come in here, please."

With a nod of his head, Chimney twisted and moved back to the station floor. He would stand guard, as it were, and make sure Harvey didn't have to see the Captain or witness anyone being degraded and told off.

Eddie placed one hand on his hip and leaned the other arm against the locker, slouching to the side while he watched Evan reach out for Harvey.

He guided his boy to the bench and sat him down before he crouched down in front of him. The adrenaline sparking through Evan's body had him on the verge of shaking as he looked up at his son, waiting a little impatiently to be told what was going on.

School had finished, but Harvey was usually at basketball practice three times a week after school, and today was one of those days. Maisie would be in a book club after school too which made it easier for (Y/n) to pick them up after work. Harvey could walk home alone if he wanted to, but he never just turned up at the station like this unless something was wrong.

"I- I forgot my meds this morning, mum brought them to school for me… dad, it itches so bad, and my heart's doing that thing again."

Harvey gritted his teeth and tilted his head back, giving his dad access to his neck to feel his jumping pulse.

Evan pushed up on his heels and cupped his son's neck in his hands so he could press his fingers over his pulse. He stayed quiet as he counted the beats in time with the quiet ticking of his watch to check the beats per minute. Harvey was right, he was starting to have palpitations and his pulse was higher than normal.

When Evan looked down at Harvey's arms, he winced. Deep scratches littered both arms and he could see Harvey had been scratching his neck and around his collar too.

"You've had your meds though?"

"Hm." He nodded his head and sank his teeth down into his lip. He did his best to keep his hands on his lap, but he couldn't resist from trying to rake his nails up and down his arms. The result was Evan clamping a hand around his wrist and holding it down against his thigh.

"Don't make it worse-"

"It hurts." The small whimper Harvey let out made Evan's lips curve into a grimace.

"I know, but scratching doesn't help." Evan ran his hand up and down his jaw before he pushed to his feet and moved over to his locker. If he remembered correctly, he had some of Harvey's things in his back pack that he brought to work with him. Evan kept them in there for when they went out playing basketball on the weekends and for emergencies before or after school.

Bobby used to let Evan drop things off at school for Harvey if needed or he let him go pick him up if he wasn't well.

"Alright, take one of these and some painkillers. If the palpitations get worse your mum will have to call out of hours when you go home."

Evan handed over one of the emergency medications they had for Harvey and two painkillers, along with a bottle of water. And he fished the skin cream out his bag that would soothe the scratches he had created up and down his arms.

He took a seat on the bench beside Harvey and began putting the cream on the marks, wincing every time his boy took a sharp breath or his arms twitched in Evan's hold. He watched Harvey chug the tablets with the bottle of water that had been beside him on the bench. Once done, Harvey closed his eyes and tucked his face into his dad's chest while Evan looped an arm around the back of his shoulders.

"What's the plan? You wanna take him home?" Eddie looked over at Evan while he crossed his arms over his chest.

If Evan wanted to go take Harvey home, Eddie would cover for him so he could take him without telling Gerrard what was going on. He would gladly come up with some excuse and say Evan was out back working on the ambulance that was out of commission or say he was taking a shower. Eddie would come up with something.

"I don't know… I can message your mum, Harv, tell her to swing by here and get you before she picks Maisie up from school. But you'll have to go wait in the jeep."

Evan wasn't sure what to do.

He started to run his hand up and down Harvey's arm while he felt his boy cling to him and inch into his chest more like he was trying to merge them into one person.

He wanted Harvey to stay here like he usually would, but that wasn't an option anymore. Not with Gerrard in charge.

Evan couldn't let Harvey walk home alone, not when he wasn't feeling well and was prone to loss of energy. He could trip, get into an accident, collapse, anything could happen to him. Evan wouldn't let him leave here alone, he was scared at the thought of Harvey walking from the school to the station in this state.

But if he stayed, they would have to hide him and make sure Gerrard didn't bump into him at any point until (Y/n) could pick him up. The only other options were Evan walking Harvey back to school as it was only round the corner, so he could wait for (Y/n) to pick him and Maisie up. If Evan took him home, it was a guarantee that Gerrard would find out and Evan would be kept late or given some sort of punishment.

And Evan was in the mood to start a fight, he wouldn't take much more of Gerrard's criticism.

"Pops let me stay last time." Harvey lifted his head to look back at his dad through squinted eyes that showed he was having a dip in his energy levels. He felt like lying down and going to sleep.

"I know, but he isn't here anymore, and I can't have you around our new Captain right now."

"Why? I've not done anything wrong, have I?" The sudden panic in his tone made Evan sigh.

He leaned over and kissed the top of Harvey's head and moved his hand up from his arm to cradle the side of his son's neck instead. He reeled him back into his chest and hugged him while he glanced up at Eddie who was raking his hand up and down his chin and neck, trying to think how to help.

"Buddy that's not what I'm saying I swear. Our Captain isn't like Bobby… I'll text your mum and you can wait in the jeep, okay?"

It was the best Evan could do. He wasn't about to let Harvey head home on his own, it was safer to keep him here until (Y/n) could come and pick him up. And he knew she wouldn't be long before she would have to get Maisie anyway so she would be here soon once Evan texted her.

The car park was round the back of the station, it was sectioned off and secluded and safe.

Unravelling himself, Evan got up and got his phone from his locker to send a quick message to (Y/n). He stuffed his phone back in his pocket to be safe and when he turned round, he held his arm out towards Harvey and beckoned him closer.

"Let's get you outside." Eddie clapped his hand down on Harvey's shoulder with a smile. He had been friends with Evan for long enough to be like another uncle to Harvey.

He had taken Harvey out with Chris, he slept over at Eddie's place often enough that they felt like family. He knew why Harvey was here and what was wrong with him, and he sympathised. Often in the past Harvey had waited at the station after school or on days when he had to have hospital appointments and it had never been an issue.

Gerrard wouldn't see it like Bobby did, though. He didn't care about families and he wouldn't make any effort to try and help or understand.

Eddie stuffed both hands into his pockets and walked alongside Evan who had Harvey in front of him and both hands protectively placed on his son's shoulders. Every few seconds he leaned down to kiss Harvey's temple and when he felt his son take a sharp breath, he moved his hand to cup the side of his neck to check his pulse. Another palpitation.

"And who do we have here?"

A shiver rolled down Evan's spine and his hands tightened round his son's shoulders when he heard that grating voice that always managed to rile him up. He knew if Gerrard ever gave him a compliment without any snide remark attached, Evan would keel over in shock.

His jaw ground tight and his brows furrowed down as his nose crinkled in distaste. Goosebumps bristled on his exposed skin and he watched Harvey tilt his head back into his dad's chest to look up at him. Panic was written across his face and it made Evan angry. His son shouldn't have to feel panicked about coming down to the station, especially when he was ill and here for a legitimate reason.

Evan turned on his heels as slowly as possible, retracting his hands from Harvey's shoulders in the process. He reached out and carefully pushed his son to stand behind him while he tilted his head back and straightened his frame, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. In some ways, he supposed he was.

"My son." Evan kept his arm stretched out behind him with his hand on Harvey's arm. He was relieved when Harvey didn't make an attempt to peer round him and try to see the new Captain. He could tell his dad was uneasy and he didn't want to get involved.

"Right. I didn't realise we were running a daycare service now, Buckle."

That was a new one and it took all of Evan's effort not to roll his eyes. Since Gerrard started, he found it rather easy to wind Evan up and he had yet to call him by his actual name. The first time he called him something other than Buckley, Evan responded by calling him 'Gerry'.

Needless to say he had been on cleaning duty for two weeks after that.

"Neither did I, sir." Evan kept his shoulders squared and the unamused expression stayed plain on his face. He relished in the way Gerrard's lip curled and he held his head up, still no match for Evan's height.

"What's he doing here?"

"He came for medical attention, sir. Once my wife arrives she'll take him home." Evan squeezed Harvey's arm and kept him directly behind him, out of sight and reach of the vindictive Captain.

"Medical attention?" The crude laugh Gerrard let out made Harvey flinch and dig his hand into the back of his dad's shirt. "This isn't a hospital. Does he know that you're not insured to have him on the premises, and being here could put your job at risk?"

Evan felt Eddie's hand curling around his bicep to calm him down and prevent him from taking a lunge at their Captain. That would really risk his job, and he couldn't do that with Harvey here to witness it.

That wasn't fair.

He was clearly trying to rile Evan up at the same time as frighten his son, for no apparent reason other than it brought Gerrard a crude sense of glee.

"I don't see your logic, sir."

"What?"

"The department is insured for the public to come to the stations with emergencies, always has been. And since my son came here with a legitimate health issue, and I didn't bring him, then there's no liability."

Evan knew the rules. He read the handbook. He knew that the station had to be insured for a broad range of possibilities and the public were allowed to come to any station with whatever issues they had. Paramedics worked here and if someone had a medical emergency, the fire department were part of the health service and could provide that help.

Harvey came here for help, yes he wanted Evan's help, but he was here to get help nonetheless. They couldn't turn him away and Evan didn't bring him here or have him here because of childcare issues, so there was no risks involved and no liability claims to be made.

When he glanced his eyes across the station floor and saw Chimney stood to one side near the gym, Evan twisted to look at his son.

He twisted round and cupped the back of Harvey's head to kiss his temple. "Go wait with uncle Chim."

He felt Harvey grip his wrist and give a tight squeeze before he turned and wobbled on his feet, trying to hurry to get out of the commotion and over to Chimney. Evan watched him safely sit on the bench with Chimney before he dared to turn around and look back at his Captain who did not look impressed at being outsmarted.

Evan clasped his hands behind his back and stood straight, keeping a plain expression while he waited to be told off or receive yet more cleaning duties as punishment.

"What's the 'health issue'?" The air quotations made Evan's upper lip curl and he strove to stay calm while Eddie took a step to the side and hung back near the truck. He was keeping himself out of the conversation but close by in case anything happened.

"Hyper-thyroidism."

"Excuse me?"

"He has an overactive thyroid which controls hormones, it can give him heart palpitations so if he isn't well, he needs to be checked out. It's uncommon in kids his age."

Harvey's thyroid sent out too many hormones and signals to the rest of his body and the hormones controlled a lot of different things in the body. It wasn't common for young kids and teenagers to have this kind of issue which was why they had to keep a close eye on Harvey.

He suffered with an irregular heart rhythm at times, it caused excessive itching which was why he scratched his skin so badly. It affected his moods giving him bad mood swings, one moment he could be smiling and the next he felt like bursting into tears.

He had a lot of hyperactive bursts of energy but then some days he could barely climb out of bed, he felt so tired. The medication he took was to even out his levels and control the hormones he produced. But if he missed his medication or took it too late, his levels would become erratic like they had this morning.

If he wasn't well, Evan and (Y/n) had to keep an eye on him. They were always contacting the doctor regarding Harvey's medication and how he was affected.

It was why if he ever came over after an appointment or from school, Bobby was more than happy to let Harvey stay at the station. It stopped him from being alone and meant if he deteriorated, he had paramedics and family surrounding him to help.

"His age?" When Gerrard rose a brow, Evan bristled and muttered 'thirteen' under his breath. He didn't like the dark smirk that pulled beneath Gerrard's moustache. "So he's a hormonal teenager, no doubt due to hormonal teen parents-"

"He's a teen with a medical condition which you clearly don't understand."

The daring step closer Evan took towards Gerrard clearly unnerved the Captain who looked like he was trying to think of what else he could say that would rile him up. When Evan stepped closer, Eddie pushed off the truck and inched towards them. He wasn't ready to be a witness to a fight.

"Now listen here, Buck-"

"Evan?"

(Y/n) tightened her hand around her bag that was resting on her shoulder and leaned her head to one side when she looked ahead at her husband. She could see how he had his hands tightly clasped into fists behind his back. She noticed how tense his shoulders were and how he was straining his back.

The worried expression on Eddie's face was enough to make (Y/n)'s skin bristle and when she realised who Evan was standing so close to, she took a deep breath. If she had just interrupted a fight she was rather glad. The last thing they needed was Evan being suspended for fighting with his superior.

He turned on his heels, locking his eyes on his wife who was walking towards them slowly as if she didn't really want to step into the station and get into the middle of whatever was happening here.

When he looked back at Gerrard, he waited. He waited for the inevitable sound of Gerrard telling him he was now on cleaning duty once again. He waited to be told to clean the toilets until his reflection gleamed. He waited to be told he was being insubordinate and was going to get some form of a written warning.

Instead, Gerrard ran his hand up and down his chin and took a deep breath through his nose before he took a step away.

"Don't bring your kids down here again or you'll get a warning." It was a stalemate. Gerrard had been bested and there was nothing he could do today, right now, that would make Evan feel worse and he had no way to degrade him. He had no ground to stand on where Harvey was concerned.

Evan watched with a grinding jaw as Gerrard turned and pointed at Eddie, muttering for him to go and do something useful.

Just as Gerrard took one step away, Evan felt a wave of anger and protectiveness washing over him. He ran his hands up and down his trousers to ward off the anxiety flooding his system, but when Harvey flashed before his eyes, Evan shuddered.

"Then don't talk to me like that in front of my son."

Hurrying forward, (Y/n) wrapped her hands around Evan's bicep and gave him a sharp pull in her direction. She made him stumble on his back foot but he regained his balance quickly. He clamped his hand down on her hip, letting her keep his arm hostage against her chest while his other hand clenched into a fist at his side.

(Y/n) shuddered at the way Gerrard turned on his heels and stalked closer to them. He looked like a predator about to sink its teeth into its prey. She had never seen someone look at Evan like that with such an intense, hating glare before.

"What did you just say to me?" The authoritive tone in Gerrard's voice caught the attention of a few stragglers, hanging round under the pretence of working when they were really trying to watch the drama unfold.

"I think you heard me."

"Evan, let's not start a fight." (Y/n) pushed up on her toes to whisper in his ear before she glanced her eyes around. "Where's Harvey?"

"And who's this, what kind of 'services' does she provide?"

A shiver crawled down (Y/n)'s spine when she saw the way the Captain eyed her up and down. She didn't like what he was trying to imply, or the snide smile toying on his lips that made her want to back away. Her hands clenched around Evan's arm and she gasped when Evan tried to lunge forward.

Her face pressed into his arm and she tried her best to pull him back while Eddie jumped in the middle and slammed his hands down onto Evan's chest to push him back.

(Y/n)'s feet skidded against the floor and she gasped, pulling on Evan's arm when he continued to try and push against Eddie and pull out of her grip. He wanted to lunge. He wanted to throttle Gerrard for saying that.

How could he stand there and insult Evan's family and think he wouldn't do anything in retaliation? How could he think he would get away with that? Even if Evan got reprimanded for this, Gerrard would too when the Chief found out what he had been saying.

Twisting her head to the left, (Y/n) locked her eyes on Chimney who had both hands on Harvey's arms, holding the thirteen year old back from trying to hurry over to them. But (Y/n) could see the way Harvey was scratching at his neck and he was twitching and shivering. He was having his palpitations again.

"Evan- Evan please, Harvey isn't well. Please!"

She could of cried when Evan finally stopped fighting them both and stood firmly on his feet. His body paused, but he was reduced to trembling all over while he looked over in Harvey's direction.

He shook off Eddie's hands and stepped back into (Y/n), reaching behind him to uncurl her hands from his arm. He took a second to kiss her temple, breathing into her hair to try and calm himself down and give his mind something to focus on other than the Captain that was enraging every one of his senses right now.

Evan's hands moved to (Y/n)'s arms and he walked her back a few paces, wanting to be as far away from Gerrard as possible. He felt her hands reach up to grip his biceps, but she visibly shivered and pushed into him when she realised Gerrard was stalking closer to them.

"I need to take him home," (Y/n) looked up at Evan before she looked towards Harvey who had pulled out of Chimney's grip and was hurrying over to them. He didn't like this. He wanted to go home. (Y/n) wanted to take her eldest home, and she still had to go to school and pick Maisie up.

"Nobody's going anywhere. If this is a medical emergency, then he can get examined here…"

Whatever Gerrard said afterwards went in one ear and out the other for Evan. He looked over his shoulder, watching with an increasing sense of dread and hatred as Gerrard bypassed them and stalked closer to Harvey. Was he really going to try and make Harvey stay? Who did he think he could get to examine him? Evan wasn't letting anyone near his son, he was going home with (Y/n) and that was the end of it.

He had no idea what Gerrard was about to do and he didn't want to find out. He could feel (Y/n) letting go of his arms to try and follow the Captain but Evan pushed her behind him as if they were in a race and he was going for the head start.

"No you're not-"

Evan didn't know what made him look. He didn't know why he glanced his eyes from staring straight ahead of him to look towards the left where the open doors were blocked with work men who had been here all week. He didn't know why he darted his eyes away from his Captain who was aiming for his son who was trying to hurry towards Evan. But when he did, a bolt of lightening struck his heart.

His upper half leaned forward and his feet skidded against the floor as he pelted forward.

His left arm reached out and smashed into Gerrard and his shoulder hit the Captain dead centre in the middle of his back.

Evan opened his right arm and bound it like a rope around Harvey's waist, not caring about the way his son shrieked in confusion and panic. All he cared about was getting them both down to the ground.

His boots skidded along the newly mopped floor and he slammed his body down, snapping his eyes closed when he felt the collision incoming. He could feel Harvey's hands clutching at his arm and shoulder which were pinned across his chest. He could feel Harvey yelping in agony when the pair of them hit the floor and he knew all the air had been whacked out of his son's chest.

(Y/n) couldn't help the scream she let out, despite the way she brought her hands up to cover her mouth in shock. Her body stumbled back and she noticed Eddie doing the same, stumbling as if they had both been struck by an invisible hand.

One of the blade wheels from the machinery outside broke loose. It pelted through the air like a boomerang and when it imbedded into the bonnet of the truck, (Y/n) choked.

Her feet moved before she could register the action and she bolted across the floor, feeling Hen and Eddie close at her side while Chimney ran from the other direction.

"Are you okay?!" (Y/n) slammed down to her knees beside Evan, reaching her hands out for his arms to help reel him up. She clutched at him so tightly she was starting to pierce her nails through his skin, but she couldn't let go. Her chest pressed into his back once Evan pushed up onto his knees, reeling Harvey up along with him.

"Jesus Buck, I think you saved them."

"Harvey, buddy are you okay?"

Evan could barely breathe when he looked down at his son. He didn't spare the Captain at his side one glance. His breaths began to run away without him as he cupped Harvey's face in his hands and tilted his head from side to side while he looked him over.

"Are you hurt?" Evan could barely find his voice or the will to breathe as his wild eyes scoured every inch he could to see if the blade had caught Harvey anywhere or made so much as a scratch on him.

He felt (Y/n) loop her arms around him while she perched her chin on his shoulder when Harvey shook his head, despite the headache he now had.

The thirteen year old gently shifted his dad's hand so he could feel the jumping vein in his neck. His heartbeat was becoming uneven again and it was starting to hurt, but he wasn't surprised.

His dad had just rugby-tackled him to the floor.

His dad was heavy; Evan was more than double Harvey's weight and size and he had bashed him into the floor so fast that Harvey knew he would have bruises littering his back tomorrow. But he couldn't have been happier about his dad's fast reflexes. He would take bruises over a blade imbedded in him any day.

He looped his arms around Evan's neck and pushed forward, burrowing into his dad's chest while he felt his mum's arm curve around his back so she could hold them both.

"You just saved Cap's life." Hen glanced over at Evan who finally spared a look down at Gerrard. The elder man was laid on his back, seemingly half-conscious with a growing puddle of blood beneath him. He has still gotten hurt somewhere, somehow, but Evan had saved him from being sliced apart.

He saved him from sudden death.

[winterarmyy]

Welcome Home, Daddy

The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.

Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)

Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》

A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!

P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.

And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.

"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.

How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.

The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.

And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.

He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.

He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).

No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.

Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.

And no one saw it coming.

Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.

So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.

Hers and the baby's inside.

After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.

Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.

It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.

When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.

For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.

It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.

That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.

And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.

Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.

On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.

While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.

It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.

Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.

And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.

The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.

Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.

But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.

That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.

The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.

It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.

So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.

"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.

So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.

It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.

Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play  nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.

Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.

But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.

However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.

However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.

It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.

Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.

The darkness surrounding her.

The bone rattling cold.

It felt like death itself.

But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.

Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.

"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."

It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.

After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.

Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.

How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?

Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.

Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.

The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.

This game, that they're playing.

It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.

And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.

"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"

The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.

The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.

He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.

At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.

Anger.

Frustration.

Rage.

Wrath.

Even hatred.

The soldat was feeling it all.

It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.

God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.

"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."

She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.

The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."

As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.

Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.

When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.

Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?

Why would he?

This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.

Not today, not ever.

Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.

This was all because they wanted her baby.

It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.

"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."

It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.

Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.

There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.

"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.

She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.

As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.

And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.

But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.

The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.

The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.

She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.

"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.

Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.

Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.

You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.

That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.

Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.

He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.

Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.

She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.

Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.

Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.

And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.

Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.

Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."

Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?

That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.

The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.

It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.

This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.

While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.

Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.

By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.

Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.

And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.

At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.

Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.

As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.

And that was the soldat's last ammo.

While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.

But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.

Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.

However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.

And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.

When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.

There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.

She was right there.

His heart.

His love.

His darling.

Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.

The soldat's steps grew faster.

So does Y/N's.

Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.

Until the moment they reunited in the middle.

Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.

So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.

The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.

Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.

So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.

Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.

His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.

When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.

She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"

The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."

"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."

"You can follow us if you want so just please--"

"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."

The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.

The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.

The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.

Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?

"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."

Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.

"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.

The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.

Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.

So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.

"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.

Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.

Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.

So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.

At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.

When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.

He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.

It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.

"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."

His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.

And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.

The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.

In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.

Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.

When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.

The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.

"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.

There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.

Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.

"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."

And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.

The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.

Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "

She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.

But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.

And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.

After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.

He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.

Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.

The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.

Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.

The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."

He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."

Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.

Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.

The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.

The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.

A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.

Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.

The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.

It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.

When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.

The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.

Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.

It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.

Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.

When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.

Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.

Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.

"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks. 

It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.

They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.

Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind  "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.

And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"

"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."

Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.

Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.

Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.

Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.

"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.

Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.

Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.

Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!

[alastorss]

Could you maybe write something with Alastor and reader,

and reader gets hurt in the extermination and he cares for her? And maybe like she takes a nap on his lap and he just sorta falls asleep right next to her?

a/n: hello!! i sort of got carried away with this one and made it more sappy than i originally intended, but i hope you still like it! for context: the reader stepped into battle when alastor was hurt by adam and this is the aftermath :) hurt/comfort and fluff!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has been eerily quiet since returning to the newly-rebuilt hotel, sutures and bandages in hand.

All his belongings, including his beloved cane, have been cast aside in lieu of medical supplies to be split between you. One measly box worth of gauze and sanitizing wipes. Definitely nothing to gawk at, but good enough.

He's stripped his shirt without any exchange of words. You know his silent request, too prideful to ask for your help verbally but desperation clear in his expression.

"Is this the only spot?" You ask, slowly stringing a suture through his skin. He hisses in pain—his only response. The demon doesn't even gratify you with his eyes anymore, opting to stare off into space as if his mind has taken a vacation elsewhere.

You frown but continue delicately stitching him, piecing him together until he's whole again. His back hits the dresser as he leans on it, body instinctively trying to crawl away from the stinging of the needle. Finally, you knot the end of the sutures and sigh in relief, reaching over to get something to clean the area.

"I'm glad this whole fiasco is over," you comment softly, knowing it won't make him look at you. "With their leader gone, maybe the angels will finally—"

"You disobeyed me," he suddenly snaps. "Why?"

You pause in your movements, blinking up at Alastor while he glowers at you. His eyes narrow into slits, half out of anger and half in a grimace.

"You were cornered. I couldn't just sit by and—"

"I told you to stay out of it," he interrupts again, slapping away your hand. You gasp, alcohol wipe hitting the floor beside you. Defiantly, you challenge him with a glare of your own.

"I'm trying to help, asshole!"

"I know, I know!" He explodes, obviously frustrated. "And look where it got you!"

He pinches your chin to tilt your head up toward him, rotating your face around so he can observe your wounds. A cut lip, a bruising eye—horrible reminders that sinners could be hurt. And you were no more of a sinner than he, much less an Overlord who knew the shape of a soul.

"You risked your life by intervening! What if you had been struck down, you fool?"

Alastor's voice is all panic and no composure, missing any semblance of that accent which is so beloved to him. You know he's telling you exactly what he feels, true emotions unburdened by the character he built for himself in the afterlife.

"So be it! It's no less a fate than what would have happened to you!" You emphasize by jabbing your finger just above his wounded abdomen, careful not to agitate his fresh stitches.

Wincing, he goes silent. It's unnerving how quiet it is again. You've gotten so used to the ambient buzz of his static, but with it missing, you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck pricking up in unease.

He still hasn't released your face, clawed fingers pinching your chin and holding you in place. It isn't until he feels the wetness of your tears pooling at the pads of his fingers that he recoils in surprise.

Sighing, he twists over to open new packs of wipes. You stay still while he carefully cleans your face, ignoring your little whelps of pain the best he can.

Once the blood is gone, he pauses. Then, his fingers gingerly wipe under your eyes, swiping away the globs of tears spilling down your cheeks.

You are pitiful right now, he thinks. Though he probably looks no better.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup. "I don't mean to make you worry."

His expression softens, though his viscous smile remains. You can see it in his eyes—something genuine buried beneath his act.

"I don't want you to die," you admit quietly.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear."

You laugh dryly, wiping up your tears on your own with your bloodied sleeves.

"But you almost did. What would I do without you?"

The question is rhetorical, but something vile still swirls violently in your stomach at the idea. As if knowing what's going through your mind, he grabs you by the cheeks and forces you to meet his stare again.

"Not another word out of you," he demands.

His gaze flicks to the bruising under your eye, flesh already discoloured and swelling. "Got a remedy?" You grumble.

Alastor shakes his head but leans in anyway, pressing a chaste kiss just below the swelling. His lips linger on your skin for a moment before he pulls away, amused by your stunned expression.

He invades your space again, this time kissing the crown of your head. Speaking into your hair, he whispers, "I will be more careful. I promise."

"And I'll think before charging into battle after you," you chuckle softly, overwhelmed by his warmth.

Slowly, he tugs you along and sits you on the sofa. He brushes the hair from your eye and takes the opportunity to look at it under better lighting. Just like that, he vanishes, melting into the shadows. When he reappears in front of you, he has cold packs. In a place so warm, they are of little use. But they are better than nothing, he supposes.

Groaning in pain, he seats himself beside you and allows you to slot under his arm. Two demons seeking comfort and companionship curled up together—any other Overlord would laugh.

But Alastor knows what it means to be loved, to have someone who would stand in front of a lethal blow for him, to be stitched back together by your hands.

In the safety of each others' presence, you both fall asleep with the faint hum of static filling the air.

~

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[webbluvrsugar]

Hellowww, love your writing.

I can't stop thinking about reader being tuned on by Ethan being such a nerd, like every time he says something smart or dorky she just wants to jump his bones.

a/n: since I’ve been so obsessed with the concept of my bully!reader, I decided to make her in this one. Final request that has pretty Ethan header because it consumes a lot of time and I can’t get them out quick.

not proofread

Ethan turns you on in the weirdest ways…

Ethan is always telling you some random nerdy thing that you didn’t even ask about but sometimes relates to what your speaking of, he blames his quick thinking and apologises when you mock him for it, what he doesn’t know is that… it’s attractive, in a way.

You don’t know where your fondness for nerds started, but it surely seems a lot more noticeable when he’s a sound, sure, you make fun of him and you curse him out but there’s always times that you find yourself biting down on your pen, slowly getting more interested in what he’s saying, it’s weird…

“I can’t believe his head exploded like — why would he take off his spacesuit?” You comment about a recent movie you’ve seen, completely disgusted by it, you sit down on your chair, Ethan, who’s sitting on the desk besides you, can’t help but listen it.

“You know… that’s actually not true.” He points out.

Your frown, turn to him with a scoff. “What?”

“Your head wouldn’t explode if you.. took off your suit.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It wouldn’t, it’s impossible.” He mutters. “You would just… go blind from the blood vessels in your head popping, then you’d slowly freeze and —“ he keeps speaking, your eyes go down to his lips, you can’t even remember what you were talking about in the first place. “You’d asphyxiate.”

Your lips are lightly parted, he thinks you’re confused but you aren’t, you’re just in a very.. very light transe from what he just said, eyes focused on his before he speaks up.

“S — Sorry.” He fiddles with his pen, sighing.

“Uhm…” you chuckle, almost if not believing him. “how do you… how do you even know that?”

“I… read a lot of books, google things often…” he swallows hard, nervous of your reaction.

“‘Course you do.” You mock, crossing one leg over the other. “Tell me, E, what other facts do you know?”

It’s the first time you really do seem interested in what he has to say without making fun of him and Ethan takes advantage of it, he starts rambling about some geek movie stuff, something that you quickly start ignoring once you feel heat pooling down your stomach, it’s unlike you, it’s unlike him to be seducing you — if he’s even doing so — but it just works so well, and after a matter of minutes, you’re not sure what you’re even staring at.

Somehow, Ethan notices it, this time, it’s going to be him who teases you.

“Got it?” He raises one eyebrow, tries to hide back the smirk on his face.

“Y — Yeah, totally.” You swallow. “But it was so hard to, I was getting distracted by all your geeky stuff, I mean shit’s so boring.”

Ethan chuckles, and it’s the first time he’s ever laughed at you, in your face. “For someone who’s so smart, you don’t seem to have a lot of brains when I’m talking.”

“What?”

“Just saying, you’re.. so dull when you’re talking to me.” He points out.

“The hell does that mean?”

“Nothing, I just… I just think maybe you’re not so truthful about your hate towards me…”

You scoff, as if you don’t believe him, deep down, you know he’s probably right, but you’ll deny it.

“What? You think I find you hot or something? Get a grip, nerd, I wouldn’t like you even if you were born again.” You scoff, so upset that you stand, grab your things and leave.

Ethan know he should be offended, but he really can’t be anything other than glad when he sees the look on your face as you walk away.

[comatosebunny09]

kismet [ teaser ] | sylus

— summary: “are you going to keep picking at my bed sheets until you’ve reduced them to mere threads?” sylus’ voice startles you, bringing you careening back to the present. the sheet slips from your fingers as you cower like a scolded child, bathed in the imposing aura he emits.  “you could say something. or we could just sit here listening to each other breathe for the rest of the night. take your pick.”

— cw: blood, injury, violence, minor character deaths, language, self-loathing, unrequited (requited) feelings, mdni

— now playing: i got u - austin farwell

Consciousness comes toddling in like newborn kittens. 

You anticipate the sound of birds chirping outside. Anticipate sunbeams kissing your eyelids and the crisp scent of your comforter. Instead, you’re ushered into wakefulness by insistent ticking. By a dull throbbing in your side and by something silken sliding down your bare stomach to pool around your hips. 

Uh-oh.

You jolt up. What a shitty idea that proves to be. White hot pain explodes in your side, anchoring you back down to the bed. Bed? Bed…when did you—

Your vision blurs and bends, adjusting in the low light. You make out discernible shapes and colors from your spot propped against a pillow. The aroma that greets you isn’t one associated with your home. But it’s familiar all the same. Inherently masculine with undernotes of bergamot, amber, and—

Ah, fuck.

Reality barrels in. You wince as you take in the sheets pooled around you. Their texture, their color. You’re surrounded by furniture that isn’t yours but is recognizable. And the ticking is familiar, too, coming from a clock nestled in the corner. 

This isn’t your bed. This isn’t your room. This is…this is…

The clearing of a throat interrupts your internal panicking. You shrink away from the source of the sound, but you soon learn to regret that. The ache from before returns, though not as severe. Still, it’s enough for you to grit your teeth with a hiss leaking through. 

���Sweetie,” warns a murky voice from your bedside—his bedside. You stiffen, the color draining from your face. “If you keep jostling about like that, you’ll reopen your wound.”

A peek in your periphery reveals what you fear—a wash of scarlet and white. 

You rigidly slide back down against his mattress, wishing it could swallow you whole. Wishing you could recede into your skin like a turtle. He’s barely said more than a sentence to you, yet you can sense his vexation as if he’s given you a whole PowerPoint presentation. 

You toy with some stitching in his sheets. Your heart thrums fiercely in your ears. The throbbing in your side can’t compare to that gnarling feeling in your gut. You don’t dare look at him. Don’t have to, irritation rolling off him in waves. He’s pissed if the set of his jaw in your periphery is any gauge. You would be, too, if you found yourself like that. 

You fucked up. And you don’t think any amount of groveling will fix this. 

—

It was a routine negotiation. 

Well, you had hoped it would be. 

You weren’t at all surprised when it went south; Niko was known for being a greedy bastard. Not only did he want the military-grade weapons you were selling in Sylus’s stead. But he also wanted to keep his pockets full. Figured he’d bump you off while absconding with the goods and money.

Naturally, Niko sicked his men on you. One by one, you took down hulking thugs, your instincts and Evol guiding you through the fray. It had been a minute since you got your hands dirty. You wanted to savor the moment, the purpling of your knuckles, and the thrill of a good fight. 

Caught up in the action, you hadn’t noticed one of Niko’s men charging you with a machete until it was too late. He sliced you good, breaking through skin before you could spin out of reach. You grit your teeth against the initial shock, but the adrenaline that spilled through you muted the pain. 

When the henchman drew back for another swing, you used his weight to your advantage, throwing him off-kilter. Maneuvering behind him to pull him into a chokehold, you used that same machete to tear through his carotid. He fell to the ground, his life spilling from him on the concrete. 

You took down the remainder of Niko’s men in a similar fashion, oblivious to how fucked you truly were. When the last of his henchmen hit the ground, you confronted the kingpin himself. Of course, he took off running in the wake of your ire. 

They always fucking ran. 

The bastard was surprisingly quick for an old man, leading you on a chase through the moonlit docks. All the action exacerbated your wound, its severity gradually announcing itself and slowing you down. You finally cornered Niko, dealing the killing blow. Left him propped against a safety bollard, split open and leaking red as a warning for anyone who dared to cross Sylus.

Reality set in as you hobbled back to your bike, the case of weapons and cash cumbersome in your hands. 

You were hurt. Bad. So much that you stumbled into a brick wall in an alleyway. It bit unforgivingly into your shoulder but was a cold, welcome reprieve against your feverish, sweat-slicked skin.

You clutched your side as a visceral pain tore through you. A glance down revealed your blood seeping through the gaps of your fingers, glistening condescendingly in the moonlight.

It was a jagged slice. Tore through skin and tissue, rubbed raw from your clothing. Untreated, it would fester and grow gangrenous, not to mention the blood loss. You didn’t trust yourself to make it to the hospital on your bike. Not when you were near tears, struggling to stay conscious. 

You turned a bitter laugh to the sky, though it was converted into a wheeze. This was what you deserved. What you got for being so complacent, driven to recklessness by your petty feelings. By your need to stay on top and prove your worthiness. 

Your breaths were shallow. Inhaling was laborious, amplifying the pain. You sank to your knees, fumbling your phone from your pocket. The screen was smeared with blood as you struggled to cue up a contact. Thankfully, the receiver clicked to life, a feminine voice lighting up the other end.

“Hey,” you breathed, your cell shakily held to your ear. “Need your help. Dropping a pin.”

You ignored the alarm in her voice at your cryptic words. Didn’t have time for questions, hanging up before marking your location and sharing it. 

Your phone clattered to the ground, the sound of it jarring amid distant cars moving about on the streets and dogs barking somewhere far off. You propped yourself up on the alleyway wall, sucking down as much air as you could. Tried to calm yourself, watching the clouds glaze over the moon overhead—anything to distract you. To nullify the pain.

The ache subsided the slightest bit. With some effort, you divested yourself of your blazer to pack it into your side. The texture gliding against your wound aggravated it. But you needed something temporary to staunch the bleeding until help arrived.

Exhaustion was pulling you under, darkened tendrils furling in your chest like smoke and clouding your eyes. You were about to give in to its inky embrace before headlights flooded your vision, chasing away the dreamlike smog. 

You looked up at the frantic clicking of shoes along the pavement. Chuckled something breathy at the fear sinking onto her face. You didn’t deserve her concern, but having someone fret over you felt nice.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” said Nadia, helping you stand with your arm slung over her shoulder.

Nadia was one of Lux’s bartenders. Could whip up a mean martini and was a faithful confidant. You sometimes called her when you were in a bind. As much of a fuck up you’d been lately, you trusted her never to go running her mouth to Sylus. 

She guided you to her car. You blinked away the bleariness, swallowing past the sand in your throat. 

“Not yet. Gotta…see the bossman first.”

The car door slammed behind you once Nadia eased you into the passenger seat. For a moment, you sat silently, forehead propped against the crisp window as you dripped blood on her tan seat. Shit. You’d clean it up. You promised. 

You watched Nadia round the car with your cases in tow before she slipped into the driver's side. The leather of the steering wheel squelched in her white-knuckled grip. She gave you a tight-lipped look. Wanted to argue, but there was no sense in trying to change your mind. You were stubborn to a fault.

Nodding, Nadia backed the car out of the alleyway and eased onto the street. She kept tabs on you throughout the drive, occasionally peering over to ensure you were still among the conscious. 

You promised you’d see the doc after you reported to Sylus. You just hoped to hold yourself together long enough to see him.

—

Lux’s iron-wrought gates panned into view.

As much as she burned to, Nadia vowed not to snitch, so long as you sought out a medic when you were done. You were thankful for that. She’d kept your injuries under wraps for so long. You didn’t think you could handle inconveniencing your boss with your stupid little wounds. He already had enough on his plate—enough people to occupy his mind. 

Your side still throbbed as Nadia snuck you in through the club’s back doors. She shepherded you into a dressing room, helping you disinfectant and wrap your injury before assisting you with your dress. It was a tight little number. Something to hold your bindings in place, dark enough to disguise any blood that managed to seep through. 

Reluctantly, Nadia left you to your own devices. You’d swept your hair into some semblance of neat in the mirror. Blotted sweat and grime from your face, patting your cheeks to bring back some color. 

You could do this. You’d suffered worse. Mustering up your last vestiges of strength, you stood, ignoring the sticky pull of the gauze against your laceration. You dragged yourself through Lux’s stilled halls, ending your journey at the heavy double doors leading to Sylus’ office. 

It was laborious, pushing them open. You’d sapped the last of energy doing so. Your vision doubled, a thatch of white dancing through the chaos. You barely made out the terror lining Sylus’ features. Barely heard the hurried click of his shoes over marbled floors and the fear hijacking his voice when you collapsed in the doorframe.  

You felt so very cold. But his hands were warm, squeezing your arms like that. He shook you lightly, the scarlet of his eyes glinting through your bleariness. His voice was muddled. He was saying something. Asking something. You couldn’t decipher what. You were tired. Just wanted to sleep. 

You felt pressure on your side. His hand. Heard him suck in a breath, your blood sticky on his palm. Dammit. You thought you’d done a decent job packing your wound. Whatever. You'd do better next time. 

The world fell away as he called your name. You couldn’t keep your eyes open. Tried to answer, but you were already gone, sinking below the depths as if weighed down by cinder blocks.

[windssong]

nightmares come true // logan howlett x reader

summary: you get hurt during an intense battle

oneshot: ANGST, comfort. Swearing, injury, violence

word count: 2k

I’m currently taking fic requests btw!!! masterlist

The bleeding wouldn’t stop.

You could’ve sworn Logan described this exact scenario to you before. Down to the very last detail.

A few times actually. It was only ever after you calmed him down from the nightmares that he told you what they were really about.

They were the same, each time. Sometimes the location or clothes would vary, but the outcome never changed.

They were of you. Dying in his arms. In a pool of blood.

Death was something Logan never had to worry about. His powers wouldn’t allow it. But, when it came to you, that was a whole other matter. He thought about it all the time.

When the nightmares returned, and they returned often, they filled him with so much fear it scared you.

He woke with your name on his lips. You whispered words of comfort against his sweaty skin. And wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck and told him you were safe. That he was safe too.

All those nights, you combed through strains of wet hair and held him close, waiting for his breathing to steady. Sometimes his claws would come out. Thats when the night terrors were really bad. On one occasion, they accidentally cut you. Logan refused to sleep in the same bed for days after that.

He would always ask you if you were okay after those frightful dreams. Every single time. And you’d tell him you were and hoped he’d go back to sleep. But you knew he stayed up. Afraid take he’s eyes off you. Afraid the dreams would become real.

Were you slipping into that dream now?

Kurt held your head in his lap. He pressed down on the right side with shaking hands, muttering under his breath. Something about God and healing. You didn’t really know, your hearing and vision were both fading.

He applied more pressure to your wound. The pain was so bad you wanted to scream. It was the kind of pain that made it impossible to think, talk, breathe, or do anything.

Your heart was beating for its life. The pulse pounding in your brain right where it hurt the most. It grew bigger and bigger. Your head was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode.

The ship shook violently, the battle outside raging on. You thought you could hear Logan shouting for where you were. But you couldn’t tell. There was blood in your ears.

You pleaded with the universe that Logan wouldn’t see you like this.

Another shockwave hit the plane. You winced from the sudden movement, your brain throbbing underneath a relentless force.

“I need… I need to help them.”

But Kurt wouldn’t let you move. You caught a glimpse of crimson on his blue skin and underneath his nails as he gently pressed you down.

“They’ll be fine.” He assured you. You were too exhausted to protest, your body sagging against your friend. “You just need to stay still.”

The constant rocking back and forth of the plane and the ground rumbling beneath you wouldn’t let that happen. But Kurt kept you as steady as he could.

Flickering red and orange lights illuminated the windows. Smoke billowed past, creating dark clouds. You noticed you couldn’t smell the fires burning. You could only smell metal. There was a man shouting at Kurt to open the hatch.

He carefully laid your body on his jacket, now soaked with blood. Your blood. You'd have to buy him a new one if you made it out of this mess. The thought brought a weak smile to your face. Kurt pressed one of the control buttons and the hatch slowly opened.

Logan couldn’t wait for the hatch to finish opening before rushing in, still asking for you. His black suit was full of holes but his skin was completely healed over. Dirt and specks of blood stuck against the sweat on his face and hair. He was breathing hard, the smoke from the fires making their way into the ship. He covered his mouth, finding the button that closed the hatch.

Then he saw you. Lying on the cold floor. Blood seeping into a coat pocket, body trembling.

Logan felt sick. Like someone reached into his stomach and rearranged everything. No amount of metal or regeneration could protect him from something like this.

His jaw clenched, ready to burst at the seams. It was a rubber band wound up too tight. “What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know.” Kurt stammered, still shaking. “I see someone falling, I grab them.” He returned to the same spot, putting pressure back on your skull. “We came here once I smelled the blood.”

A whimper escaped your mouth. Logan snapped out of the initial shock and made his way over to you. His knees hit the hard floor. He took your hand. Nausea overcame him when your blood went cold against his skin. “Hey. It’s me. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” He kept repeating it. Just like he did in his night terrors.

This didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

But it was.

He could sense it creeping in.

You weren’t supposed to be in this situation. Logan had gone out of his way to make sure something like this would never happen.

But sometimes, nightmares come true. And the worst one was unraveling right before him.

“Go… help.” You were wheezing. The rattle slithering out whenever you tried to speak. Was there blood in your lungs too?

What you said made him hold onto you that much tighter. “No way in hell. I’m not leaving you like this.”

He paused. From where he kneeled, he had a clear view of your injury. He wanted to tear those monsters outside to pieces.

You shut your eyes, face curled up in pain. Kurt continued to mutter prayers. Logan held your cold skin to his mouth, leaving frantic kisses on the back of your hand. It almost looked like he was praying too.

Then, a blood curdling scream irrupted from you. You screamed so hard that your legs thrashed and fingers tightened around Logan’s wrist. You’d never felt pain like this before. All consuming. Like a dragon swallowed you whole. Blades of flame and ice scattered along its esophagus.

Logan slammed his fist against the metal floor. “God dammit!” He was trying to keep himself from crying. A wild look overtook his eyes. He whipped his head towards the hatch and back to Kurt. “Go get Jean.” He ordered his teammate. “Now!”

Kurt nodded. He would not hesitate. He tried peeling Logan’s hands from your own, but Logan would not budge. He only looked more confused, hurt and angry.

Kurt sighed, pointing at you. “It’s for her.”

Logan let some of his anger dissipate, realizing what Kurt was trying to do. He let him guide his hands to your head and vanished into thin air as soon as Logan was in the proper place to care for you.

Logan pushed the fabric against the gash in your skull. Your eyes scrunched up again, teeth biting your lip.

“You’ll be fine.” He repeated over and over again. He soothed you with it. Cradled your head in his lap. Made sure to stay as still as he could. He put too little pressure on your head. As soon as he noticed, he put too much pressure on the wound. He eventually found the balance, watching your face twist back into a more comfortable position. “Nothing you can’t come back from.”

Something wet dripped onto your forehead. Mixing with your own tears. Was Logan bleeding too?

The darkness was inviting you to sleep. Yet, you didn’t want to leave Logan’s warm embrace. But you were so tired. And the nothingness was quiet. Your eyes fluttered, fighting the blood loss.

Panic shot through him. “Don’t you fucking dare.” His pleas grew more erratic. He was reaching for words that didn’t belong together. “The flowers in your room. You need to water them.” When did so much blood get in your hair? Your breathing became shallow. “Everyone gets hit in the head. Fucking get up.” You couldn’t smell anything anymore. Was his voice falling apart? “I think we should go home.”

There was a brief flash of blue that popped into your blurry view. Red hair swam front of your face. Cold hands taking over for him. There was more talking and cursing. You felt drunk in the head. Logan’s animalistic screams faded as he ran out of the hatch, claws unsheathed. Jean yelled for him to come back.

Then it was just darkness. A long sleep.

Logan was by your side when you woke up.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw you struggling to open your eyes. But, he hesitated to touch you. Like one wrong move would send him back to that pool of blood and claustrophobic ship.

“Hey.” He let out a shaky breath.

With the pad of his thumb, he gently brushed away the crust underneath your eyelids. You could see much clearer now. The infirmary was empty except for the two of you. The lights overhead were nearly too bright to handle. Your head was still pounding. But the worst pain was in the chest, moving all the way to your back.

You noted the tear stains on his cheeks and the black, torn up X Men suit he was still wearing.

How long were you out? You really hoped he didn’t stay here watching over you for days on end. You needed him to take care of himself.

It took a while to gather the strength to speak. “Logan…” Your voice scratched the air. It still hurt to talk. “When did you last sleep?”

Logan let himself exhale once he heard your voice. You were alive. Right in front of him. But it didn’t feel real until now. “You of all people, are worried about me?” He chuckled, kissing your forehead, caressing your cheek. “Never change.”

You pushed your face into the palm of his hand. “Is everyone else okay?”

He nodded. That was good to hear. Everyone made it out of that hell hole safely. As soon as you were able to, you were going to go thank Kurt for everything he did. And buy him a new coat.

“See? Nightmare averted. You can sleep just fine now.”

His face fell. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” You motioned towards the water on the table. He sat on the edge of the bed and brought the straw to your lips. The water was cool against your dry tongue and sore throat. You let him put the drink back. “Was it that bad?”

He pursed his lips, tilting his head in discomfort. His fingers gripped the sides of the bed. They turned white against the blue sheets. “What do you think?”

“Can’t really think right now. My head is killing me.”

“And a collapsed lung.” He added. You thought he was going to break the bed.

Memories started flooding back to you. The powerful kick to the chest, the weapon slicing open your head. Then before you knew it, you were falling.

“I did a lot worse to that fucker than what he did to you. I made sure of it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face curled up like he was in pain too. “This can’t happen again.”

Your throat was dry and it still hurt to talk, but you powered through. “I can’t promise you it won’t.”

He whipped his head around. He looked so tired. “You almost died last night.” The pain echoed off every single word. “It. Can’t. Happen. Again.”

You reached for his hand and he hesitated again. Eyes locked on the tiny injuries along your fingers. That’s where he kissed you as you lay dying.

“I’m sorry.” His fingers danced across your own, avoiding them like a crush.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Sure feels like it is.”

You began to cough. Your bruised ribs hurt with each sharp inhale and exhale. Logan brought the straw back to your lips. “Jean will be back soon to check up on you. Take it easy, okay?” You swallowed, thanking him once again.

There was a pause, but not an uncomfortable one. “I think you should go get some rest.”

“I’m fine.” He picked at the fiber strains of your blanket. “I don’t sleep, I get a little tired. You don’t sleep, you can barely function. I get hurt, I heal just as quickly. You get hurt…” He stopped himself from finishing the sentence by biting down on the inside of his cheek. “God, I need a fucking drink.”

“Then go get one. After you take care of yourself.”

“That is taking care of myself.”

“No, it really isn’t.”

“Jesus.” He dragged his hands over his face. “You are not going to let this go?”

“Nope.” Logan wanted to kiss that stupid smirk off your lips.

He sighed. “I just don’t want to go through it again.”

“Maybe you’ll dream of something different this time. Something better.”

Jean walked into the room, still giving the two of you space. He knew you’d be fine with her. That you were safe now. But it still hurt to leave.

“Fine. I’ll go sleep or whatever.” Logan kissed your forehead one last time before standing up. “But then I’m coming right back.”

You watched him go with a weak smile. There was still a lot of healing to do, but you’d do it together.

[cherbii]

PUDDIN’

ft. Toji Fushiguro

summary -> you called yourself insane for falling in love with the murderous psychopath, until you became like him!

warnings -> Joker!Toji, Harley!Reader, language, violence, murder, graphic murder, dead dove do not eat, smut! p in v, choking, riding, knife play, blood kink. mdni.

The city never slept and neither did you, not with Toji by your side. It started like a fever dream—one second, you were patching up some two-bit gangster in a back-alley clinic, and the next, you were running for your life, blood on your hands, laughter in your throat, and a maniac with the sharpest grin you'd ever seen leading the way.

Toji Fushiguro wasn't just trouble; he was the whole damn apocalypse wrapped in a leather jacket and bad intentions. And you were the idiot who fell for it. The night you met, the sky bled neon, rain slicking the pavement as sirens screamed in the distance.

You should've gone home early, should've ignored the desperate pounding at the clinic door, should've known that a man who smiled through a bullet wound wasn't normal. But Toji waltzed in like the devil himself, bleeding from his side, grinning like he'd won the jackpot, and you—stupid, stupid you—had let him sit on your operating table like he owned the place.

"Yer a real doctor or just playin' dress-up?" he asked, voice all gravel and amusement as he peeled off his soaked jacket.

You glared at him, snapping on a pair of gloves. "You wanna keep running your mouth or actually get patched up?"

His laugh was low, like he was in on a joke you hadn't heard yet. "I like you already, doc."

That was the beginning of the end. You should have kicked him out, let him deal with his mess alone, but there was something in the way he watched you, eyes sharp despite the blood soaking through his shirt. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't even pissed off.

He looked entertained, like he was sitting front row at some twisted comedy act, and you had just become his favorite part. You told yourself you were just doing your job when you pressed the gauze to his wound, when you stitched him up despite the way his muscles tensed under your fingers, despite the way his smirk never wavered.

"You get shot often, or am I just lucky tonight?" you muttered, cutting the thread with more force than necessary.

Toji grinned wider. "Wouldn't call it luck, puddin’. But yeah, I get into trouble now and then." The words were barely out of his mouth before the clinic lights flickered, a sign that the building's shitty wiring wasn't the only thing malfunctioning tonight.

Your stomach twisted, and you turned toward the door, but Toji was faster. He grabbed your wrist, pulled you close, his breath warm against your ear. "Yer gonna wanna duck."

Glass shattered as bullets tore through the front window, shelves exploding as medical supplies rained down. You hit the ground hard, heart slamming against your ribs, ears ringing from the gunfire. Toji barely flinched.

He crouched next to you, reaching into his boot and pulling out a knife like this was just another Tuesday night. "Hope ya don't mind a little mess, doc."

You should have screamed, should have run, should have done anything but what you actually did—grin. Adrenaline surged through you, drowning out the panic, replacing it with something hotter, something reckless. "You gonna take 'em out or just sit here bleeding all over my floor?"

Toji barked out a laugh. "Knew I liked ya." The next few minutes were chaos. He moved like a phantom, slipping through the clinic, cutting through the gunmen like they were made of paper.

You barely had time to breathe before the last body hit the floor, blood pooling across the linoleum.

Toji stood in the middle of it, panting, covered in red that wasn't his, eyes gleaming as he turned back to you. "Ya got a car?"

You swallowed hard, ignoring the way your pulse thrummed in your throat. "Out back."

"Then let's get the hell outta here." You didn't know why you followed him. Maybe it was the rush, the sheer insanity of it all, or maybe it was the way he looked at you, like you were something special, something rare. Whatever it was, it had you gripping the wheel too tight as you sped through the city,

Toji lounging in the passenger seat like he hadn't just turned your entire life upside down. "You always this much trouble?" you asked, eyes flicking to him.

He smirked. "Only when I'm having fun." You should have dropped him off, left him to his own devices, but when he told you to take a left instead of a right, you didn't argue. When he led you into a crumbling warehouse, you didn't hesitate.

And when he pulled you close, fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up to his, you didn't pull away. "Ya scared?" He murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

You weren't. You should have been, but you weren't. You stared into the madness in his eyes and felt something snap inside you, something that had been wound too tight for too long. "No."

Toji grinned, and then he kissed you, and you knew right then and there—you were never getting out of this alive. You didn't go home that night. You barely even thought about it. There was blood on your clothes, dried in your hair, smeared across your face, but you didn't care.

Toji tasted like gunpowder and adrenaline, like cigarettes and laughter, like pure fucking danger, and you wanted more. His hands were rough as they slid up your back, pulling you closer, pressing you against him like he wanted to burn you into his skin.

The warehouse was dark, reeking of oil and metal, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the heat between you, the way he groaned against your lips, the way your fingers fisted in his jacket, refusing to let go.

You didn't know what the hell you were doing. You weren't stupid—you knew what Toji was, knew what kind of man he had to be to smile through gunfire, to cut a man's throat without blinking. He wasn't just dangerous. He was the kind of dangerous that didn't stop, that didn't slow down, that didn't care who got caught in the wreckage.

And now you were standing in the middle of it, grinning like a goddamn lunatic. He pulled away first, chuckling low in his throat, resting his forehead against yours like he was catching his breath. "Yer somethin' else, doc."

You smirked, feeling high, feeling invincible. "You don't even know my name."

He laughed, like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Like it matters. Yer mine now."

You should have argued, should have pushed him away, should have told him that you didn't belong to anyone, but the words never left your mouth. Maybe because you knew he was right. The next few days were a blur. You didn't go back to the clinic.

There was no point. It was trashed beyond repair, and even if it wasn't, you had bigger problems. Whoever had shot up the place wasn't done looking for Toji, which meant they were looking for you now, too. Not that he seemed concerned. If anything, he was having the time of his life.

You spent your nights in shitty motels, cheap hideouts, places where the walls were thin, and the sheets smelled like cigarette smoke. Toji kept a gun under his pillow, a knife in his boot, a grin on his face like the world was just one big game, and he was the only one who knew the rules.

You should have been scared. You weren't. You learned fast—how to move, how to blend in, how to keep your head down when Toji told you to. You learnt that he didn't trust anyone, that he didn't give a damn about the people he worked for, that the only thing keeping him entertained was the rush, the thrill, the chaos.

And you learnt that you were just as bad as him. The first time you shot someone, he didn't look surprised. You had been cornered in an alley, some lowlife with a knife thinking he could take you out while Toji was busy inside. You didn't hesitate. You pulled the trigger, watched the guy crumple, felt your pulse hammering as the gun shook in your hands. Toji stepped out of the shadows, hands in his pockets, head tilted as he looked at you.

Then he grinned. "Knew ya had it in ya."

You laughed, breathless, wiping the blood off your cheek. "You gonna stand there all night or help me clean this up?"

His grin widened. "Fuck, I love ya, puddin’." You should have run. Should have turned around, walked away, found some way to salvage your life before it was too late. But instead, you laughed again, shoving the gun into his hands.

"Then help me hide the body, asshole." That was the moment you realised there was no turning back. You didn't regret it. Not that night, not the next, not even when the bodies piled up and the blood never really washed off. Toji made everything feel like a game, like you were two kids running wild through a playground made of crime scenes and getaway cars, and you loved it.

You loved the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that could keep up with him. You loved the way he laughed when things got messy, when bullets flew past your head and you didn't flinch. You loved the way he kissed you after a job, rough and desperate, like he needed you more than air.

The city turned into your playground. You ran through the streets like you owned them, your names whispered in alleyways, your faces printed on grainy security footage.

Toji took you to places you'd never dared to go before—underground fights where men twice his size (if that was even possible) went down in seconds, smoky bars where deals were made with a handshake and a threat, rooftops where you could see the whole city stretched out beneath you like a feast.

"Think we'll make it outta this alive?" You asked one night, sitting on the edge of a high-rise, feet dangling over the city lights.

Toji smirked, lighting a cigarette, the flame casting shadows across his sharp features. "Alive? Sure. Clean? Not a chance."

You grinned, stealing the cigarette from his lips, taking a slow drag. "Wouldn't want it any other way." He watched you, something dark and amused in his eyes, then pulled you onto his lap, crushing his mouth against yours. But not every night was golden. Not every escape was clean.

The first time Toji got caught, it wasn't by the cops. It was worse. You were holed up in a motel, licking your wounds from a job gone sideways, when the door burst open. No warning, no time to react—just a flash of movement, a crack of gunfire, and Toji hitting the ground.

You screamed his name, lunged for the gun on the nightstand, but a boot slammed into your chest, pinning you against the wall. "Cute," a voice sneered. "Think she's got teeth."

You looked up, vision blurring with rage. Three of them. Suit-and-tie types, but their eyes were dead. Professionals. The one pinning you down leaned closer, smiling like he was picking apart a meal.

"You know who your boyfriend pissed off, sweetheart?" Your fingers curled around the gun.

"Not enough people, apparently."

His grin widened. "Oh, I like you." Then he slammed the butt of his pistol into your skull, and everything went black. You woke up tied to a chair.

Toji was across from you, blood dripping from a cut above his eye, arms straining against the ropes. He was grinning.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," the men surrounding you weren't smiling. The leader crouched in front of you, tilting your chin up with the barrel of his gun. "You're gonna tell me everything your boyfriend's been up to."

You spat blood onto his shoes. "Go to hell."

He sighed. "Ladies first." Then he turned the gun on Toji. And you lost your goddamn mind.

"Touch him, and I'll rip your throat out with my teeth." The man chuckled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Wariness. Good. You weren't just some scared little girl. You were fire and glass and blood, and if they thought you'd break, they were dead wrong.

Toji licked the blood from his lips, watching you like you were his favorite movie. "Ain't she somethin'?" He drawled, voice all lazy amusement. "My puddin' sure knows how to make an entrance."

The leader rolled his eyes, pressing the gun to Toji's temple. "Last chance, sweetheart. Talk, or lover boy gets a bullet in the brain."

You grinned, teeth red. "You shoot him, and you'll never find the money." That got his attention. He hesitated, just for a second, but it was all Toji needed.

The ropes snapped. Everything went red. The chaos of the night had left both of you breathless, blood staining the air and sticking to your skin.

Toji sat across from you, leaning back against the wall, eyes still alive with that same wild spark as ever. His shirt was torn, his skin covered in bruises, and blood—his blood—was smeared at the corner of his lips.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from the sight. Something about the mess, the violence, the way he wore it all like a badge of honor, stirred something deep inside you.

You slowly reached toward him, your fingers hovering just above the blood at the edge of his mouth. He didn't move, didn't flinch. Instead, he watched you with that ever-present smirk, as if daring you to do it.

Your thumb brushed against his lips, smearing the blood further across his skin, until it formed the outline of a twisted smile.

"There," you said softly, watching the blood mix with his grin. "Now you look like you're really enjoyin' yourself." The playfulness in your voice was a front, hiding the heat rising between you both.

His eyes seemed devoid of light as you continued, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You know, puddin'," Toji muttered, his voice low and gravelly, "You're even more dangerous when you look like that."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you leant in closer, your lips brushing his jaw before slowly moving to the blood on his mouth, tasting it.

He inhaled sharply, his hand snapping to your wrist, stopping you for just a moment. "You're playin' a real fucking dangerous game, sweetheart."

You could feel the tension building, the unspoken words between you two hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. But before he could say another word, you pressed your lips to his, your hands slipping into his hair, pulling him toward you with a hunger that matched his own.

Toji groaned into the kiss, his grip on you tightening. Toji's lips were rough against yours, his hands gripping you tightly as if he couldn't get enough. The kiss was hungry, both of you fighting for control, but neither of you willing to give up an inch.

His body pressed against yours, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, his muscles tense as his hands roamed over you. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.

Toji pulled back just enough to look at you, his breathing heavy. "You're really not making this easy." He muttered, his hands still on your body. His eyes were dark, focused only on you.

You didn't care. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin, to feel the heat between you. You both worked in silence, each of you getting lost in the need to be closer, to lose yourselves in each other.

When you finally managed to get his shirt off, you ran your hands over his chest, feeling the strong muscles beneath your fingertips. He let out a quiet curse, his hands moving to your back, pulling you even tighter against him.

"Shit.” Toji murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, feeling the thrill of his touch as his lips left a trail of heat along your skin. You didn't need words, not now. The tension between you was enough.

You grunted, slipping a hand back up into his hair, tugging harshly on the black strands to rip his head away. “Let me ride you, ‘Ji.”

“Fuck, puddin’. Gonna go dumb on the cock? Hell yeah.” He grabbed at your waist, tugging you towards the springy bed, almost tripping over bloodied limbs before he fell down, you bouncing on top of him before you shifted to straddle his lap.

It was a sight to see; a maniac beneath you, blood smeared at his lips and a wild look in his eyes. Yeah, you’d happily let this man ruin you.

Toji growled as you hurriedly went to rip your shorts off, eager to see you bare. His hand slithered to your cunt, pushing past the fabric of your panties to feel your warm slick.

“So fucking wet. Did killing get her wet? Fucking slut.” He chuckled, trailing his fingers up your torso until they found your pulse, squeezing at your neck.

“Says the ones who’s so fucking hard.” You mumbled, moaning out as your throat began to mechanically constrict.

“It’s what ya do to me, puddin’. Gonna show yer leaky pussy exactly what ya do t’me.” He snarled, curling his fingers, cutting off your air supply.

Toji couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch at the sight of you gasping for hair, eagerly reaching with his other hand, to his pants, tugging them until his cock sprung free.

“Ji…can’t fucking…breathe.” You wheezed, though your cunt pulsed and leaked into your panties.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear ya, quit yapping.” Toji murmured, releasing your neck and sliding his fingers up until he shoved them past your lips, forcing you to suck them clean.

His free hand went to your panties and tugged them carelessly to the side. Toji wasn’t a man of pleasantries, not now, not when you’re dripping onto his balls.

“Lift yer hips. Good fucking girl.” He said, grabbing his cock to guide it to your hole.

You both groaned out, albeit yours muffled, as you sunk down on his length. You leant forward to plant your hands on Toji’s hard pecs, using it as leverage before you raised your hips and slammed them back down in a repeated manner, whining every time his fat tip would nudge at that one spot inside you.

“God, this pussy is to die for,” Toji groaned, fingers dropping from your lips, coated in your saliva. “Gonna fucking murder me with how she’s squeezing my dick.”

Your lips fell open, panting Toji’s name. Fingers curling into his skin. “Love this dick—hah—could kill for it.”

“Rest easy, puddin’. Is all fucking yours. Shit, all yours.”

You didn’t miss the way Toji sent you a smirk, cheeks pulling at the dried blood on his face, the sight made your heart and cunt convulse.

It wasn’t long before you felt a burn in your thighs and lower back, stamina wearing thin. “‘J-‘Ji, ‘m tired. I can’t continue.” You whined, giving the man your best pleading expression.

“Yes, ya fucking can, and will.” Toji grunted, digging into his pockets and pulling out a butterfly knife.

He twisted his wrist, the blade whipped out before the sharp point was pressing at your throat.

“Keep up the pace or I draw blood.”

That was new, Toji never threatened you. Ever. You were his precious, porcelain (murderous) doll he paraded around town, yet it did something to you. Toji smirked when he felt you clench around him

So with a sound something between a whine and moan, you kept bouncing on his cock. Wet sounds filled the room, and so did your whines and moans.

“There we go, see, all ya needed was some motivation. Got ya moving real good f’me. Fuck.” Toji praised, tempted to push the blade into your skin nonetheless.

Your hips stuttered, pace falling behind. You hoped Toji didn’t notice, but of course he did. You whimpered as the blade made a small cut, red pebbling at the small incision he made.

Toji didn’t stop there, he pressed deeper and deeper, not enough to kill you, God, he’d never, but enough until the crimson dribbled down your skin, some onto the knife, most crawling to your collar and breasts.

Toji audibly groaned at the sight, moving the blade to his lips, tongue farting out to taste you. “Fucking hell, puddin’. Yer just as sweet as your blood.”

His words set a flame alight in your tummy. It grew bigger and bigger, until you could no longer contain it. “Fuck! Need to cum, gotta cum!”

“Cum for me, puddin’. Atta-fucking-girl.”

That was it, like a bucket tipping over, you came, hard. Toes curling, eyes rolling, mouth drooling.

“Shit. Fuck, puddin’. Gonna stuff this pussy full of my cum. Have psychotic children with the love of my fucking life. Aw, fuck.” Toji’s teeth clenched together as he spilled ribbons to ropes of his cum inside your cunt.

His hips jumped, and twitched before they stilled. You were panting by the time he was done, a little sweaty too, before you collapsed onto him.

“I got ya.” Toji murmured, wrapping his arms around while his head buried itself in the crook of your neck. You shivered when his tongue struck out and lapped at the cut.

The moment was tranquil, by your definition. Serene, peaceful, perfect.

Until there was a banging to the door, so loud you thought it was going to rip off its hinges. “This is police, open up!”

“Well, waddaya say, puddin’? Ready to kill some motha-fuckers?”

“As ready as you are.”

[p0orbaby]

Sinners | Envy

summary: jealousy rears its ugly head

warnings: SMUT 18+, use of a strap, dom!leah, angry sex

a/n: this one’s a little feisty

word count: 1.3k

Lust | Gluttony | Sloth | Greed | Wrath | Pride

-

Leah’s face is flushed, her eyes blazing with an anger that mirrors your own. This argument has been escalating for a while now, words sharpening into knives that cut deep. The room is thick with tension, the remnants of the stupid awards ceremony still hanging in the air like a bad smell. You can still hear the distant echoes of laughter and conversation from the afterparty, but here, in the suffocating silence of your living room, everything feels like it’s on the brink of exploding.

“Are you seriously trying to make this about me?” Leah snaps, her voice razor-sharp, slicing through the fragile calm that had barely been holding. “You were practically draped all over her. I invited you, for fuck’s sake. Do you have any idea how that made me look?”

You shove a hand through your hair, your frustration boiling over, turning your blood to lava. “I was just being friendly! You act like I’m not allowed to talk to anyone but you. That’s not my problem if you’re feeling insecure”

Leah’s eyes narrow into slits, and she steps closer, the heat radiating off her body making the air between you both almost unbearable. “Insecure? I’m not insecure. I’m pissed off because you’re being fucking disrespectful. You think you can just waltz in there and flirt with everyone while I’m supposed to sit there and smile?”

Her words sting, lashing out and striking nerves you didn’t even know were exposed. But beneath the surface of your anger, something else bubbles up—a twisted, burning need that’s just as furious and insatiable as the rage. You can’t deny the way her jealousy, her possessiveness, ignites something primal in you.

Before you can think twice, before you can convince yourself that fighting her off is the right move, you surge forward, grabbing her shirt and ripping it open, buttons scattering across the floor like shrapnel. Leah’s eyes widen in shock for just a moment, but then she’s on you, her hands yanking at your clothes with a savage desperation.

“You want to make a scene?” she growls, her voice rough and feral as she shoves your pants down your legs, nearly tearing them in the process. “Let’s fucking make one”

Clothes are discarded carelessly, the fabric pooling on the floor as your bodies clash in a heated frenzy. Leah’s hands are everywhere at once, her touch rough, almost punishing, as she presses you against the cold glass of the living room window. The sensation sends a shiver through your overheated skin, the stark contrast heightening the tension coiling in your belly.

Your breath fogs up the glass as Leah’s fingers slide between your legs, her touch demanding, insistent. “Stay right where you are,” she orders, her voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. “I’m going to show you exactly what happens when you step out of line”

You shiver at the raw authority in her voice, a mix of fear and arousal twisting in your gut. But the words that spill from your lips are defiant, almost mocking. “You think you can just control me? I’m not some toy for you to play with, Leah”

Her fingers pause, and for a moment, you think you’ve pushed her too far. But then she’s right up against you, her body pinning you to the glass, her breath hot against your ear. “Oh, you’re not just a toy. You’re mine,” she hisses, her voice laced with a dark promise. “And I’m going to make damn sure you never forget that”

She pulls away abruptly, and you hear the rustle of her moving across the room, followed by the unmistakable clatter of a drawer opening in the distance. Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation and dread warring inside you. When she returns, she’s holding a strap, her eyes gleaming with a mix of determination and something darker, more primal.

“Since you want to act like a little brat,” Leah says, her voice low and intense, “I’m going to show the world who you belong to”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond before she’s positioning herself behind you, the cool plastic of the strap pressing against your entrance. You barely have time to brace yourself before she thrusts into you, hard and unyielding, the sensation almost too much too fast.

Your gasp echoes through the room, your body instinctively arching away from the cold glass as Leah grips your hips, holding you firmly in place. “Stay still,” she commands, her voice brooking no argument. “You’re going to take every inch of this, and you’re going to love it”

You can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips as she starts to move, her thrusts deep and punishing, each one driving you further into the window, the cool surface biting into your overheated skin. The pleasure is sharp, almost painful, but it’s exactly what you need, what you’ve been craving since the argument began.

Leah’s pace is relentless, her hands tight on your hips, her body pressing into yours with each thrust. “Tell me you’re mine,” she demands, her voice a fierce whisper, her breath hot against the back of your neck. “Say it”

You grit your teeth, stubbornness flaring up even as your body betrays you, pushing back against her with each thrust. “I’m not yours,” you manage to gasp out, even as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core.

Leah’s grip on your hips tightens almost painfully, and she leans in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. “You’re about to be,” she growls, punctuating her words with a particularly hard thrust that nearly knocks the breath out of you.

Your defiance crumbles under the weight of her dominance, the pleasure and pain blurring together into a dizzying whirlwind that leaves you gasping for air. The slap of her skin against yours, the rough drag of the strap inside you, it’s all too much, too overwhelming.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Leah demands again, her voice harsher now, tinged with frustration and something more—desperation, maybe. “Say it, or I swear I’ll fuck you until you can’t speak”

The threat sends a thrill through you, your resolve wavering under the onslaught of sensation. “I’m… I’m yours,” you finally gasp out, your voice trembling, the admission dragged from your lips like a confession.

Leah’s pace doesn’t falter, but you can feel the satisfaction radiating from her, a dark chuckle vibrating through her chest as she leans in to nip at the back of your neck. “Good,” she murmurs, her tone dangerously soft. “Because you belong to me, and I’m going to make sure you remember it”

Each thrust drives the point home, the rhythm of her movements becoming almost hypnotic, your body surrendering completely to her control. You’re pushed closer and closer to the edge, your hands braced against the window, your breath fogging up the glass as you struggle to hold on to any semblance of control.

But Leah doesn’t give you that luxury. She fucks you harder, deeper, her grip on your hips unrelenting, her dominance absolute. “Look at yourself,” she demands, her voice a low growl. “Look at how good you take me. How much you need me”

Your eyes flicker open, catching your reflection in the window, and the sight that greets you is almost too much. You’re pressed up against the window, your skin flushed, your lips parted as you pant for breath, Leah’s body moving behind you with a determined ferocity that leaves you trembling. The image is raw, primal, and the sight of yourself like this—vulnerable and utterly dominated—sends you spiraling over the edge.

You come with a cry that echoes around the room, your body shuddering violently as the orgasm rips through you, Leah’s name falling from your lips like a prayer. But she doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, driving you through the aftershocks, her own breaths coming in ragged gasps as she holds you steady.

When she finally pulls out, you’re left slumped against the window, your body trembling, your mind a hazy blur of pleasure and exhaustion. Leah presses a kiss to your shoulder, her touch now gentle, soothing the sting of her earlier roughness.

“Remember, please” she murmurs, her voice low and almost tender, her lips brushing against your ear. “Remember that you’re mine”

[hungharrington]

ok this is filth adjacent but would u ever write a lil blurb or fic about Steve with a gf whose super insecure about her stretch marks and body? And May be she doesn't want to disappoint Steve bc his exes seem prettier

would i ever! i love these type of requests i love ppl getting a little bit of respite and comfort through fic esp in smut! i hope this makes u feel even a little bit hotter babe <3 1.6k, afab!reader, and just filth adjacent sry! MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Steve's mouth is on your neck, his tongue hot where it teases against your skin, and his hands are searching your body with a lustful fervor.

Your head tips back. It's so easy to let him in, let him slide his body closer to yours, to get more of whatever he's giving. The hot press of his mouth on your neck feels damn good enough to make your blood sing—and heat travel between your thighs, wetness beginning to pool.

You want to rub your thighs together, if only for a little relief. Steve's toned thigh between them prevents it. You scrunch his polo between your hands instead, trying to wrestle the courage to slip your hands beneath it.

You're lying back on his bed, propped up lightly by the pile of pillows the two of you had stacked when the evening had begun. The television at the end of the bed runs a film idly in the background, completely unnoticed by this point.

"How we doin'?" Steve's voice rumbles out, barely parting his lips from your skin before he's swooping back in to nip at it again. The bastard.

Your hands flex again, finally mustering the nerve to dive beneath the fabric of his shirt. Steve's warm. You feel the muscles of his tummy shudder as you skim your fingers across it, a pleasurable shiver running down your spine at the trail of hair you can feel leading into his pants. Steve's breath hitches, close to your ear.

He nudges your jaw with his nose lovingly, planting another row of sloppy, wet kisses down the expanse of your neck.

"Hmm," He hums, questioningly. "Still doing good?"

You realise you hadn't exactly answered him and something glows in your chest at his insistent checks. Extremely reluctantly, you manage to drag your hands away from his torso, shifting them up to subtly nudge his face out the curve of your neck.

Steve's eyes dart up to your face as he pulls himself back, his expression turning dopey the moment your hands cup his jaw. His cheeks are flushed ruby and his hair has been mussed in all his steamy motions. He looks fucking delicious.

You kiss him — surging up to connect your mouths, warmth exploding in your chest and trickling down, down when Steve responds with a revere hunger. His plush lips scrape against yours filthily, his tongue always so perfectly teasing. You're gasping for air when you pull away.

"So good," You say breathily, finally answering the question.

Steve takes a moment longer to register what you've said—but that dopey look crosses his face the moment he does.

He plants his hands on the bed and shifts his weight back, sitting back on his heels. His thigh is still situated right between yours and you have to shove down the lustful urge to grind against it, lazy pleasure still pooling low in your gut. Though you're pretty sure Steve wouldn't oppose the idea.

Chest heaving lightly, you watch as Steve reaches for the edges of his polo and tugs upwards. It comes off in one smooth motion and you're rewarded with a fine sight. You're pretty sure your mouth actually waters in response. Tan chest, scattered moles, the smattering of hair. Oh god, you want to lick him.

Something in your face must give away your train of thought because Steve laughs. He leans back down, one hand moving to your waist, and nuzzles his nose against yours. He steals a kiss from your lips.

"See somethin' you like?" He says, the smirk evident in his tone. You feel like you might vibrate out of your skin.

"Shut up," You aim for fiesty and fall far, far short. You sound on the verge of a whine when you say, "You know I do."

Steve grins wider. His hand on your waist tucks under your shirt seamlessly, his thumb drawing maddening circles into the skin. Your breath catches, even as your arousal hikes.

"What about you?" He whispers the question between his kisses as he mouths along your jaw again, finding that same damn spot on your neck again. It'll be violet coloured by the morning. "Do I get to see something I'll like?"

He's asking permission. It takes a long moment to realise that—too distracted between the touch of his fingertips skating across your skin and the addicting feel of his lips against your pulse.

You nod without thinking.

Steve pulls your shirt up no more than a few inches before your brain catches back up. Your hand moves abruptly, grabbing his hand and yanking it and your shirt back down in a split second.

Steve's halting in an instant, pulling back from working lovebites on your neck to see what he's done wrong. There's a string of spit connecting his lips to your neck.

Steve frowns in concern, shifting his hand up wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, as he makes an effort to put a little distance between you.

"You okay?" He asks. You're still holding his wrist, which is still holding the edge of your shirt. "What happened?"

Your mouth opens uselessly and closes. You know precisely why you had stopped him and now you're facing up with the fact you have to tell him, lest Steve believe you're actually having second thoughts over being with him.

It's just... you've probably spent far too many hours in the mirror. You've seen it from every angle. Seen it in every lighting. You can't quite ever seem to make your body look good.

You don't look like any of the girls Steve's been with in the past.

Comparison is killer, you're aware of this, but infuriatingly you just can't seem to stop. You think of what Steve will see the moment he gets your shirt off, what he'll realise, and your hand tightens around his wrist subconsciously. Your throat tightens up too.

Steve's face melts into a softer expression, eyes big. "Hey, hey, it's totally fine if you said one thing and- and you realise that you didn't mean it, it's okay."

Words continue to evade you and humiliatingly, it feels more likely that tears will escape you before any explanation will. He's being so nice.

"But..." Steve continues, his tone wary as if aware he's treading on uneven ground. "You seemed like you were into it. Like, comfortable, I mean. Then it was like a flip switched and you froze."

"I-" You finally find your voice. You clear your throat as you try to find the right words, breaking Steve's intense gaze to study the ceiling.

This is worse. This has got to be worse that just Steve taking your shirt off and being disappointed because— because you're goddamn building up to it. Your eyes screw shut and you decide it's better to rip the band-aid off.

"I'm just," You can't quite keep the quiver out of your voice. "I'm not like- like girls you've dated before."

Steve makes a noise of confusion and it's enough to force your eyes open. You glance down, taking in Steve's adorably furrowed brow.

"Okay...?" He says, clearly still a bit confused.

"I mean, Steve," You say, voice a little steadier. Your hand around his wrist finally remembers to relax.

You release the hold on him and tuck your hand under your shirt discretely, covering the skin of your stomach you know is warped with stretch marks. "I don't look like the girls you've dated before. My- my body is different."

The wrinkle between Steve's brow shifts, moving from confused to something a little harsher.

"So?"

You blink. Of all the possibilities that you had run, not one of them had ended with Steve saying that.

"So?" You echo meekly. "So... so you might be like, I don't know, disappointed or think—mfh"

The words get smushed beneath Steve's fervent kiss, stealing one kiss off your lips and all your words with it. You blink up at him again, all your endless arguments of why Steve would be so disappointed suddenly silenced.

Steve grins, evidently pleased with his reaction.

Tentatively, moving slowly so you could intervene if you wished, he drags his hand along the sheets and onto your hip again. This time, however, he pushes the fabric of your shirt up and doesn't pause til it's bunched up, most of your torso on show.

Your nerves gather, gnawing at the edges of your chest. You can't bring yourself to move the hand that's trying to hide part of you, even if a dozen other stretch marks are visible now.

Then Steve leans down and he kisses your skin, right in the middle of your tummy.

"I think," He says, lips dragging across your skin and setting it aflame. He's looking up at your through his lashes, your gazes locked, his eyes dark. Another kiss, this time longer, with just a flash of tongue. "You're hot shit."

Instinct makes you want to scoff. But Steve says it so seriously that you almost believe him off the bat. Believe that he believes that.

He lowers himself onto his elbows, letting both of his large hands settle onto your waist, fingers pressing into the skin lightly. You shiver at the feeling and start to consider the possibility that he actually does think that.

"And I will gladly," He punctuates the word with another kiss, this one evolving into a soft, sensual lick up towards your breasts which peak lustfully in response. Your breath hitches. "Spend all the time needed if you need some convincing of that."

His hands move, sliding down til he's gently knocking yours aside, big warms hands spread across your hips. His thumbs are moving, drawing soft motions down, you realise, towards your waistband. Your pulse jumps between your legs, the heat in your body uncaring about the brief interruption.

Steve kisses your tummy again, further down this time. You acutely realise you've got Steve Harrington between your thighs, looking up at you with darkened eyes and promising filthy things with his fingers. Or mouth. Both if you're lucky.

"So," Steve murmurs, voice raspy and low. His thumbs slip beneath your waistband, just an inch. "You gonna let me convince you?"

You're feeling pretty damn lucky.

[gothamhappiness]

The nightmare (Jason Todd x GN!reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, angst, kinda comfort but not really, mentions of blood, violence, Joker, dark!Jason at the end

You woke up sweating and your heart beating so fast that you thought it was going to explode inside your chest. You sat up before frantically looking for your boyfriend Jason in the bed. You needed several instants to collect yourself and remember that he was patroling away tonight.

You couldn't stay in bed, not after the nightmare you just had. You needed to busy yourself until Jason came back. You went into the kitchen and started to prepare some tea. Hopefully, it could calm down your nerves. You wanted to call Jay, but you were worried you would distract him during a mission.

The tea didn't help. Your eyes were focused on the time passing by. You were getting very distraught now. What if something had happened to Jason?

Just like in your nightmare.

At the instant you heard the window getting opened, you rushed to it. Red Hood barely had the time to get inside; you were already hugging him before checking him for any injuries. If your warm welcome made Jay smile at first, it was until he noticed how anxious you were. He removed his helmet, let it fall on the ground before gently cupping your face into both of his hands.

"Hey babe. Is everything alright?" he whispered to you

"I'm just... so happy to see you're all good" you replied, starting to cry.

Jason panicked. He wasn't standing to see you in such a bad state of mind. He quickly sat you down on the couch, then knelt down in front of you, trying to comfort you with gentle words and touch. You managed to calm down after a little while.

"I'm so sorry, this is so silly. I just had this nightmare and I worried about you and..." you babbled

"What nightmare, love?" Jay asked

You didn't reply. You weren't too sure you wanted to talk about it to Jason. He took your hands in his and stroked them.

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower and..."

"Let me take care of you" you asked

Jason simply nodded, he couldn't deny you anything.

You helped him undress and then washed him with great care and tenderness. It was allowing you to stop thinking about the nightmare. Jay enjoyed your quiet love for him. You were the only person who ever cared for him like that. He was so grateful you were part of his life. He didn't know how he could live without you.

He also looked after you in a comfortable silence even though your boyfriend hated to see you so tense. For the moment, he allowed you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

But at the instant you both settled in bed, he gently guided you on his lap. You instinctively snuggled against him.

"So, what's going on?" he whispered

"I'm not positive that I want to tell you about it..." You admitted

"Why not?" He stroked your cheek

"It was about... him." You said

"Him?" Jason asked even if he guessed your answer

"The Joker." You replied

"Alright, what happened with him?" He asked, his jaw clenched

"He... kidnapped the two of us. You were tied up on a chair, and his goons took me on top of a pool full of acid. Joker told me I had the choice. Or I could watch him club you to death, or I could jump in the acid." You explained.

Jason's face was unreadable, but deep down, he was losing his mind.

"And what did you say, love?"

"I jumped of course, and I woke up" you murmured.

Jason instantly grabbed your face and brought you even closer to him.

"My love, I need you to make a promise to me then. Even if I'll do anything to keep you safe, if one day something like that happens, never choose me over yourself. Promise me you'll do everything to stay alive." he was deadly serious

"But Jay..."

"No but. I don't matter."

"How can you say something like that! This is not true! I love you" You cried out

"Let's me rephrase that. If I die, nothing bad will truly happen out of it. You'll get upset, but it'll pass. On the other hand, I can assure you that no one in Gotham would want to deal with the aftermath of your death."

"What... what do you mean?" You frowned

"That if anything happened to you, I'll burn this whole city to the ground and there would be no survivor. Not even Batman." Jason darkly promised

"Jay..." You were speechless

"You are my world, my everything, and if I lose you, everyone goes down with me. So now promise me you'll always pick yourself over me and anyone else, baby." He continued

"I... I promise you." You replied as you realised it was the only answer you could give him.

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Miller's

Summary: Do exactly as your told.

warnings: Dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of anal, kissing, dark, violence, restraints, dark dark but not that dark, fear play.

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

Series Masterlist

Joel Miller was a man turned to stone by time; he held that reminder close to his heart, wrapped around his wrist in the form of a cracked watch.

He barely got the feeling of adrenaline these days; his past heavy and numbing of his senses. He wasn't living anymore, instead-surviving.

No use on being nice, trading, adjusting to a community. He had gathered men like him, broken down and restless, and with them he had gotten everything he needed; food, guns and sometimes women.

Like any other spoil of war, they were quickly discarded. Mercy, Joel said it was, despite not knowing the concept fully. He found himself not finding the usual pleasure in his relief, turning sour, depraved.

He thought himself broken when he found more pleasure in death than in sex; anger simmering in him, about to pop. He felt his cock throb at the idea of destroying a community, the riches he could take; oh, how much could he take from them, just like the world had taken from him.

Your snotty community was the peak of his climax. Feral stray, huh? he had never encountered a group that deserved to reap what they sowed so much. And thus, when Javier appeared, carrying a spawn of all that hatred, he felt once more what was hidden deep in his loins- desire.

At first he thought your naivety was a gimmick; a way to squeal and cry your way out, but the irony hit him a tad too late. You were exactly the daughter of such a place, as weak and pathetic as someone raised there can be.

It wouldn't stick like that, not under his roof- the idea of giving you a pang of reality made his cock weep. Fuck, molding you into the perfect submissive slut? he could almost come undone in his pants.

He dueled upon sharing you, but he knew it was for the better. Having such tempting little thing right under his men's noses and not allowing them to have you was like putting a loaded gun on the table and turning off the lights. They'd explode all over you.

He wished he at least had thought about it better, as he sipped his morning coffee; the idea of you sprawled beneath Acacius sent a pang of jealousy. Five more days to have you back in his bed.

He could differ upon his previous statement, he thought, after the week had passed. Have you tied up, keep you mewling in his bed. Perhaps one day you'd learn to like it, but fuck, that was a miracle he was waiting to happen.

And then a miracle did occur. Like a fallen angel, escaping from God's wrath, you appeared into the living room. Messy hair and bruises all over your perfect body, your legs wobbling; the sight of you naked would be his death, he sighed. And then he locked in, realizing what actually was happening.

Your hesitant eyes searched around the men, too distraught in the suddenness to move. Your legs moved quickly, bouncing against the hardwood floors as you flung yourself to his arms.

Startled, the cup in Catfish’s hand shook then dipped, coffee spilling into the floor. His arm came to cradle your back, as you pressed your bare body to his side.

“H-He wanted to…there.” You panted; the thundering steps were followed by Acacius. Joel’s eyes widened at his shape; a hand cradling over his face, blood spilling down onto his shirt and the tip of his cock peeking out of his boxers. But his eyes were enough to know, the deep fury they hid in pools of darkness.

“I should cut off your hands for that!” He bellowed, and you pulled yourself impossibly closer to Catfish. Ripping his hand off his face, Joel could see the inflamed skin of around his nose, nostrils flaring with drying blood.

You were almost climbing Catfish as the room went silent, only your puffy sobs breaking in the air. Joel decided to put his foot down, uncertainty and the scent of something wrong forcing his face into a scowl.

“What is happening?” He asked, voice low and hard. You whimpered, eyes darting between him and the enraged Acacius. He sneered at you, a glint of delight in all of this.

“She fucking hit me.”

You whimpers grew as Joel rose to his feet, dark eyes set on you. Excitement dinged at his cock. How scared you looked, and on top of that-naked. It all brought him adrenaline that hid behind the growing storm of his rage.

“thought you remembered what happened the last time you hit one of my men.”

Your whole body trembled with fear, and you attempted to hide yourself behind Catfish. His grip loosened on you, as if giving you a warning-that he couldn’t protect you.

“He-He wanted to put it…in my-in my ass!” You sobbed hysterically, your face flushing as you uttered the words.

Acacius glared, unashamed of such intimacy being told. Joel’s brow cocked in amusement, when would you learn?

His hands came to prop at his hips, body thick and menacing as he spoke with such easiness. “Have you forgotten your place?”

Your head shook, not in denial, but as if you were shaking yourself awake from a horrible nightmare.

“Catfish, move.” He ordered, but you felt his muscles tense beneath you, holding him still. “She needs to punished.”

He wouldn’t budge, and you felt his redemption in the careful hand he used to press your face to his chest, clothed and warm and scented.

“You expect her not to react?” He bit, ironically.

Joel’s lips curled into a faux smile; fuck, if giving his men a taste of you would make them rebel, he would have kept you to himself.

“Catfish.” Whiskey groaned, voice a threat as he leaned over the kitchen counter. “Move; you don’t wanna get the Boss in your bad side.”

He didn’t, Joel could tell by the fear in his eyes; fear that made him feel powerful. But despite his adam apple bobbing as he swallowed down, his body twisted to shelter you from the hungry, dark gaze of his peers.

“She is scared.” He argued.

Joel sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “She wouldn’t be if she fucking behaved.”

Your whimper was muffled against the dark material of his shirt, brown darker from soaking your tears. It ignited something feral in Joel; but he breathed in, controlling the urge to drag you by the hair back to the room.

“Can’t blame her,” Joel muttered with some sincerity in his tone; the men around him searched for further enlightenment as they stared at him. “little pretentious, virgin pussy,” he tsked. “hasn’t been taught possibly anythin’ about sex and just like that, has to please seven cocks, perhaps have I been too greedy on that, haven’t I, puppy?”

Your mouth went dry as you peeked at him through Catfish’s broad shoulders. His gaze had softened upon you, etched with an unfamiliar understanding in his wide puppy dog eyes. You nodded, timidly.

He exhaled, arms raising into the air with some kind of resignation. Despite relaxing, Joel was keen on your every move, how your grasp on your saviour lessened as your eyes darted to him, and how your chest became heaving less rapidly.

“We haven’t been particularly nice to our little puppy,” He recognized, but his tone sent a shiver down your spine; the sudden softness uncanny. “fuck, we haven’t taught her anythin’! how can we-how can we even have the audacity to expect her to take it like a pro?”

You froze, unaware of the web he was weaving, scared of what he truly meant. With a sly grin, he pressed a hand to his chest and extended the other to you.

“I’m giving you your first chance at redemption, alright puppy?” He pressed, hand beckoning. “You come here, we go back to the room and solve this like adults, or you keep cowering behind your white knight and I’ll get over there, and you won’t like what happens next.”

The sweetness of his tone didn’t match the heaviness of his words. Joel struggled with the act, but it was for the better. Your squealing and squirming would only cause him a head ache so early in the morning.

You stayed still, hidden behind Catfish. Gazes tensed over you, expecting, analyzing, hungry. Joel cleared his throat, the arm he had outstretched growing heavy as the smile he held dissipating. Come on, crack.

You couldn’t believe your eyes, the warmth of Joel’s gesture doing little more than sending an icy chill down your spine. An invitation, or perhaps a trap, to behave.

You felt Catfish’s muscles rhythmically tense and un-tense under your fingertips, his breathe furrow and deep. The hand he had stuck to the side begun wavering, as he begun giving up on the possibility of protecting you.

Fuck, what could you expect? for him to suddenly became your Savior? He was no better than them, and you needed to get that through your skull.

So when he twisted on his ankle, you already knew he was living you bare for the wolves in front of you.

And probably, how his mouth went to your ear was to mutter a pitiful sorry, right?

No.

“Do exactly as you are told,” He whispered, pressing a kiss by your cheekbone; a rouse. “I’ll get you out of here.”

You stood stoically still as he pulled away from you. Your eyes met Joel, however his view was more entrance in licking you up from your feet to your chest. Despite Catfish’s words, you couldn’t help the need to weight out your options.

If you behaved, like he said, it probably wouldn’t be that bad. You didn’t know, you had never truly behaved for them, never truly submitted fully.

If you didn’t, you would be punished; and that you knew about, your hair still stung at places from Joel’s grip.

But another alternative popped in your mind; what if you were free?

The warmth of the hopeful dream overcasted momentarily the reality of it all. You’d be free, but have no where else to go and no knowledge of the world outside your community. You’d be dead in two weeks tops.

For a second you wondered if there was a worse one; death by clickers or death by cock.

"I don't have all day, puppy." He drawled playfully, but the darkness still lingered in his tongue; infernal.

You placed one feet in front of the other, the hardwood cold on your bare feet as you walked to your demise. You stood, as naked as the day you were born, in front of your godly judge; bareness had become usual for you, as was wearing his men's scratches and bites as another layer of clothes.

His outstretched hand came to cradle the back of your neck, a lazy, triumphant grin elating in his face. His touch for once seemed tender; though Marcus glare did not ease at the corner of your eyes.

"There, good puppy." Joel muttered, eyes lost in your glossy, disheveled expression. "Now give me a big kiss."

It surprised you as much as it had done when Javier wanted a kiss, in the tub almost two days ago. It felt like such an intimate thing, it made butterflies swim in your belly. Fuck, this is so wrong.

You looked up, through wet lashes, lower lip trembling nervously. You stood up in the balls of your feet, hands coming to rest at his chest for support as you pressed your lips to his. A peck.

No, Joel wanted more; the grip on your nape tightened, forcing you to stumble against his solid front as he mouthed at you, tongue sloppily claiming yours. You whimpered, and he pulled away, leaving you breathless and pressed against him.

"Now, give Marcus a kiss and tell him you are sorry." He groaned, and you felt small.

Do exactly as your told.

Joel let you pull away, and you presented yourself to Acacius, to his overpowering scowl and his hawkish glare.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, seeing how his gaze didn't even try to soften. You felt a surge of pride at the specks of blood peppering his shirt, the bruise forming by his aquiline nose.

Go on, Joel muttered. And you repeated the same process; his hand didn't touch you, and you felt him sneer against your face.

You stood once again in front of the two men, your lower lip held captive between your teeth.

"Good, great." Joel praised.

For a second you forgot how you got yourself there, your senses clouding. The rope burned on your wrists and the makeshift blindfold damp from your tears. Rough, calloused hands smoothed over your heaving body, so many, you could barely tell which was whose.

You jerked when a palm caressed your face, the touch so different to your state. Hands were spreading your thighs, exposing your throbbing core to a vivacious lick. The only thing that kept you from thrashing around was Catfish's timbre reciting in your ear, as some heavenly voice. Do exactly as your told.

"You look so scared, puppy." Joel tutted, thumb flicking at your lips. "It's okay, you are gonna like this, somehow."

Tags:

@tateypots @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut @purple-fig @megjohnston23 @katwriteshardy @natalieispunk

@puduvallee @pedrofan

[nanamiskentos]

➤ 𝐉𝐉𝐊﹙ 脹相 : CHOSO KAMO ﹚ ─ the death painting cw ─ MDNI. canon!choso, óràl (m. receiving)

"and don't get me wrong," choso huffs, his breath puffing out like steam escaping a kettle. pale pink lips pouting, "i know yuuji's got a heavy burden on his shoulders, but he could really stand to try and take my advice a bit more, don't you think?"

huh. no response. choso's scowling now. cinnamon-hued eyes thinning into slivers, searching for where on earth you disappeared to.

thin brows furrowing, "my love?" the end curling into a question as uncertainty colours his tone. choso's had a long day training thus far, and it didn't help that upstart who shoulda' stayed in that damned box — gojo satoru, seemed to occupy most of his younger brother's attention. diverting his attention away from the important lessons that his petulant older brother was trying to teach him. eso and kechizu were never so stubborn.

with a sharp exhale, choso pushes himself up from the seat, smacking his thighs in frustration, but not before —

"sit back down, cho."

choso's mouth goes bone-dry, nerves going into some twisted form of sensory overload as he tries to calm the blood rushing through his pounding heart before the muscle explodes. but it's too late for the blood rushing down south, already pooling in a satisfied coil over his groin.

he hasn't the faintest clue on where you managed to swipe away his robes, but he thinks he may yet be the luckiest man (no, wait, let's not unpack that yet) alive. amber eyes raking over how the cream linen drapes your form so perfectly, clinging to every curve that he loves to worship.

but choso is sharp, he doesn't miss the mischievous glint in your eyes nor the way that your teeth sink into the flesh of your lower lip. teasing, watchful. he should have known better than to be caught off guard like this, but choso truly cannot even bring himself to care about how much of an effect you have on him. how you unravel him to the core.

"you're lookin' pretty frustrated, baby," you're purring, already stalking closer so choso has to tear his eyes away from the swell of your chest and back to somewhere more polite and acceptable. think, choso, think of something smart to say. something that isn't sleazy, and something that hasn't been concocted by the heat throbbing and pumping straight outta' his cock.

but there's some awful lag between his brain and his tongue, and choso can only let the crimson flush build up, painting the back of his neck awash. watching as you snicker, knowing that the half-curse is practically one touch away from trembling in your hold. well, you can truly give him something to quiver about now.

"had a rough day, is all," choso rasps, and he doesn't even seem to be aware of how his vocal cords have turned to a husky granite. loose strands of chestnut-dark hair falling over his eyes as his pink tongue comes out to moisten his lips, mind whirring on how to turn this loss of composure into a win, "uh, it really sucked, you could say. mhm, i guess that's how i'd describe it."

you're already seated between his knees, head gently leaning against the broad muscles of his thighs. hands already pawing at the loose waistband of his ivory martial pants. unimpressed eyes blinking up at him, "what did i say about bad puns, cho?"

"that they're no good," choso murmurs, doing his best not to shudder as your nails lightly skim over the thatch of dark curls past his hips. but because he truly can't help himself, he has to add on, "that they blow."

he's really a natural born comedian, choso thinks to himself, it's just a shame that no-one else can really see past the gloom and doom to appreciate his natural wit.

you're pressing a gentle kiss to the base of thick shaft, and choso has to muffle a loud groan to prevent himself from coming undone already. fuck, he was far more sensitive than he anticipated but how could he not be? when you're proving personal love and care to each thick, throbbing vein that spirals up his cock?

choso shuffles in his seat, muscles already twinging as he parts his thighs. giving you more room to giggle and slot yourself into that gap, allowing you to firmly reach for his shaft and giving it a firm one, two! pump. already managing to pull out slick beads of translucent precum from the pink slit.

"sooo, how's that feel, baby?" your tongue barely brushing against the tip of his cock, applying the most gentle and teasing pressure that makes choso press his lips together firmly. your mouth parting to try and take as much of him as possible past your lips.

"g-good, real good," choso breathes out, tawny eyes already reaching skywards to thank the heavens for bestowing this upon him. he's panting, hands flailing in the air to clutch at the air, then at the thin material of the seat before settling at your scalp.

but he's gentle with it, determined to not apply too much pressure, to not delivery any sharp stings of pain. not when you've lavishing him with such attention, your fingertips now resting on his bare thighs as your mouth steadily bobs and releases with a sticky pop! each time you pull back.

and god, choso's entirely obsessed with how you press against the underside of his cock with a lil' more firm pressure. laving right up against the girthy veins in a way that makes his muscled abdomen tense and flex with each new wave of pleasure.

"m-my love?" choso's eyes are shut now, dark lashes fluttering against splotched skin as he feels something creeping up on him. he's sensitive, so sensitive now and each caress of your loving mouth has his thighs shaking, "i think 'm gonna, hah, i'm 'bout to — what the fuck?"

choso does pride himself on being an exemplary role model and a high standing member of whichever society will have him, so he doesn't actually curse quite often. but this situation entirely calls for it, and he can only swing his hazy eyes open to blink down at you. dumbfounded as you're already smiling like a minx. pulling yourself up, and up and —

oh. well, choso's never been one to complain. not when you're gently positioning his large hands against the ties of the robes, nudging him to pull the linen off so your bare skin can be lavished by him. a gentle kiss being pressed to his bite-stung lips, "wanted you to cum in me, silly."

[semisasseater]

Intro (end of the world.)

Se-mi x fem! reader

Summary: you never wanted to get into a heated argument with your girlfriend se-mi, not even in these death games that were slowly making you and se-mi drift away from each other. not knowing it was lights out but finding out you ran to go find se-mi not knowing that’s the reason you loose your life.

Tw: Gore, stabbing, really into detail on how y/n gets killed, just full angst, crying, wuh luh wuh, grief, no happy ending. let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: if you thought this was bad imagine what i would’ve wrote if they both died. felt a little uh.. heh evil (cause of that damn poll) and sad today.. but anyways this was very not sigma to write also i’m sorry i didn’t post yesterday </3 forgive me.

Not proofread!

Part 2

Word count: 841

The tension had been building between you and Se-mi for days. Every game, she threw herself into the fire without thinking twice, taking reckless risks that made your heart nearly explode with fear. You had warned her, begged her to be more careful and pick X. But she never listened.

And tonight, after barely scraping by in the last round, it all came boiling over.

“I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY! YOU KEPT WANTING TO PLAY AND ALMOST GETTING YOURSELF FUCKING KILLED!” you shouted, frustration and fear twisting your voice.

Se-mi’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Whatever,” she scoffed, rubbing her temples. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as you watched her walk off. Your chest was still heaving with anger, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t just anger—it was fear. Fear of losing her.

You sat against the cold wall, pressing your forehead against your knees, mumbling curses under your breath. The frustration made your limbs feel heavy, exhaustion from the past games catching up to you.

Then—

BOOM.

The lights went out.

At first, it was just silence. But then—screams. Bloodcurdling, gut-wrenching screams. The sound of bodies hitting the floor.

Your breath hitched as you looked around. The room had turned into chaos. The weak were being slaughtered, and the strong were becoming animals.

Your mind screamed one thing—Se-mi.

You scrambled to your feet, heart hammering, pushing past the bodies and the flashing silhouettes of people fighting in the darkness. You had to find her. You had to—

A hand yanked your hair back violently.

A pained gasp left your lips as you were thrown against the wall, your skull bouncing off the hard surface. Vision swimming, you looked up—shit. nam gyu.

The gleam of a sharp, broken glass shard caught your eye before it plunged into your shoulder.

A piercing scream ripped from your throat as white-hot pain seared through your body. You struggled, kicking at him, clawing at anything to get away, but he was relentless. With a sickening grin, he pulled the shard out, only to drive it into your stomach.

Your screams turned into choked sobs, pain overtaking every nerve in your body. You could feel the glass slowly dragging up toward your chest, your body convulsing in agony.

you wheezed, trying to push him off.

But he didn’t stop.

The next stab was to your hand.

A broken, shattered cry left your lips as your body weakened, your limbs trembling, blood pooling beneath you. Your vision blurred, dark edges creeping in. The pain was unbearable. Your body slumped against the cold floor, breaths shallow, mind slipping away.

You heard more screams. More fighting. But it was all fading.

Until—

“Y/N!”

A familiar voice. A desperate, trembling voice.

Se-mi.

Your eyelids felt like lead as you barely managed to turn your head. Se-mi was there, her face streaked with tears, hands shaking as she grabbed your weak, bloodied body.

“Nonono, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have left you alone!” she sobbed, pressing your head against her chest. Her warmth felt comforting, even as your body turned cold.

You let out a weak, trembling breath. “It’s okay Se-mi… it’s not your fault… it’s mine… I was being an asshole…”

She shook her head violently. “No. No don’t say that You’re gonna be okay You have to be okay”

Your body felt lighter. The pain was dulling, everything slipping away.

You looked at her, eyes heavy with exhaustion and something deeper—love. “Se-mi… I’ll always love you…”

“No—” her voice cracked. “No, no, no, don’t say that.. You can’t leave me. You can’t!”

Tears dripped onto your face as she shook you, desperately trying to keep you here. But you were already floating away.

“Get out of here… for me… okay?”

And then—darkness.

“NO! Y/N!”

Her scream echoed through the room, raw and heart-wrenching. She clutched your body, sobbing uncontrollably, rocking you in her arms.

But you were gone.

The guards arrived, their cold, emotionless hands pulling Se-mi away as she kicked and screamed, refusing to let go.

“DON’T TAKE HER! DON’T TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!”

But they did. They placed your lifeless body into a black and pink coffin, sealing it shut.

Se-mi collapsed to the floor, her cries silent now, just broken breaths of someone who had lost everything.

She was still alive.

But for Se-mi, she was dead, what was the point of living if your reason to live is gone?

@semisasseater

[audsmie]

𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺 𝑰𝑻 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹

⸝⸝ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 hockey!matt x reader

⸝⸝ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions of blood. slight violence

⸝⸝ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 648

no amount of bandaids could suffice for a kiss that does more than just mend

the arena was packed with roaring fans, the sound of the puck slamming into sticks and the skates cutting across ice filling the air. matt was on the ice, as usual—focused, quick, and commanding the attention of the crowd. his team was ahead, but the game was heating up. the tension in the air was palpable, everyone anticipating a heated finish.

out of nowhere, an opponent—a scrappy, larger guy—charged in and shoved matt aside with a brutal hit, sending him careening toward the ice. the collective gasp from the crowd was deafening as matt hit the ground, his body slamming against the unforgiving surface with a sickening thud. his lip split on impact, the sting of blood immediately pooling. 

the deafening cheers of the crowd suddenly faded into an eerie silence, replaced only by a chorus of gasps that seemed to ripple through the stands.

the referee skated over, holding up a hand. "five minutes, matt. take a break."

matt grinned through the pain, already pulling himself up, shaking off the shock as his team started to retaliate. his eyes, however, were already searching for a different kind of relief: you. he limped to the sideline, waving off the trainer who tried to approach, his eyes locking onto yours in the crowd.

you stood up from your seat, your face white with worry, your heart racing. the sound of the crowd faded into a dull hum as you stepped forward. matt’s gaze softened for a split second before that signature smirk took over.

"you know," he said, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, “i’m feeling a little hurt right now…”

you frowned, trying to keep your composure despite the worried butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "matt, you're bleeding." 

"i'm fine," he teased, winking. "but... i think i need you to kiss it better."

you raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking or if he was seriously asking you to do that. the tension in the air was thick, everybody watching in hushed silence, unsure of how to react to what was unfolding.

matt noticed the silence, the realization dawning that everyone was watching. "you gonna make me wait for my kiss, or what?" his grin was a little cockier, the usual charm not quite hiding the vulnerability in his eyes.

you bit your lip, a mix of emotions rushing through you—nervousness, amusement, and that inexplicable rush that only matt could give you. the whole arena was watching, but it felt like the only two people in the world were you and him. 

you leaned in slowly, brushing your fingers against his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to the cut on his lip. you could feel the heat of his skin, his breath catching in his chest. as you pulled back, you saw the playful glint in his eyes.

the moment you pulled away, the crowd exploded into cheers. the sound was deafening. matt just laughed, his usual bravado filling the space again. he held a hand to his heart dramatically, soaking in the attention.

"i guess that’s one way to score, huh?" he said, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, still chuckling. "who knew a kiss would be the best play of the game?"

the noise in the arena grew even louder, but for a brief moment, all that mattered was the look on matt’s face as he watched you, his smirk softened, his eyes filled with something deeper than just playful teasing. something more.

"you’re my favorite play by far," he added quietly, only for you to hear, before turning back to the game with a renewed fire in his eyes.

as he skated back out, the crowd was still buzzing, and you couldn’t help but smile, a soft laugh escaping you.