#Wore loose clothes and bound my chest

[moltengoldveins]

having. Thoughts.

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Fourteen

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, Smut, World on Fire spoilers

Word Count: 4.3K

Notes: Angst and horniness, coming right up.

June 1940

No matter how hard he kicked, Tom couldn’t get his legs loose of the damn sheet.

“Calm down, calm down!” Tom had come round to find himself crammed into a corridor lined with other injured men, his shoulder bound with gauze strapped to his chest. The accent of the man shouting at him told him everything he needed to know. Still in bloody France. The man, a doctor judging by the white coat he wore, held Tom’s shoulders and pushed him down. Tom hissed as the touch aggravated his wound.

“Get your dirty, grubby hands off me now!” He kicked his leg and caught the man holding down his legs. “Let go of me and I’ll take my chance!”

“Listen! If you leave now, you will die!”

“Oh, so I just stay here and surrender like you lot?” Tom spat in the man’s face as another doctor and nurse arrived. “Paris has fallen. She just told me,” he indicated to the woman. “And not a shot fired. How’s a bunch of cowards going to keep me safe?”

“Pardon?” The doctor holding his shoulders lunged at Tom, who squared up to him from his position on the bed.

“Jacques,” the nurse grabbed him. “Jacques!”

The doctor at the end of the bed spoke. An American. “Before you say another word about French cowardice, just remember it was a French ambulance crew who rescued you.”

Tom relaxed his shoulders and pushed out his chin. “Christ. You think you rescued me?” His temper was rising. “Thanks to you I’m in a city crawling with Nazis. And where are my clothes?”

“Incinerated.” Said the nurse.

“You fucking what?” He panicked. The only thing keeping him sane was gone.

“I assume you are after this?” Jacques, the doctor, picked something up from Tom’s bedside table. Tom snatched the photograph from his grip and rolled onto his good shoulder, Bess safely tucked beneath his pillow.

“Now piss off and let me die in peace.” His voice was final, and the medics left him. Certain that they were gone, Tom took out Bess’ photograph and traced her face with his finger. The letters were surely gone, and there was no way that he could get one to her while Nazis lurked around every corner. He had to get home, and soon.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

Distantly, Bess heard the ring of the telephone in the ground floor hallway. Manchester was warming as sun gleamed off the stone buildings and rose into the smog strewn sky. Every door in Carver Mills was open. Other girls’ laughter fluttered through the stairwell and, occasionally, so too did the warble of a record being played. Bess was lounging on her bed, watching white bed linen flutter on the washing line beyond the window. A rare day off and a chance to relax. She was just closing her eyes when Mrs Russo’s voice called up to her.

“Bess! Phone for you, darling.”

No-one ever telephoned Bess. The only people who would were Cora, Dot and Dadda, and they’d have to borrow Mrs Mason’s telephone or else use the phone box on Plymouth Street. Trying to ease her rapidly rising nerves, Bess swung her legs from the bed and hurried barefoot down the cold stone steps. Mrs Russo was stood by the front door, apron on, phone tucked beneath her ear as she dusted the hallway cabinet. She smiled when she saw Bess coming down the stairs.

“Here she is, love,” she said to whoever was on the other end of the phone and passed the receiver to Bess. “Your sister,” she mouthed, before striding into the bright light of the day armed with a mop and can.

Bess held the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hi honey,” It was Cora, her voice unnaturally bright. “How’s the day off?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Cora never called. “What’s happened?” There was a sniffle on the other end of the line and Bess’ heart lurched.

“Oh, Bess,” Cora’s voice wobbled.

“What’s happened?” No reply. “Cora? Is it Dadda?”

“No, it’s not Dadda-” Her voice was small, defeated.

“Oh darling,” realisation dawned on Bess. “Has something happened to Roger? Do you want me to come ho-”

Cora spoke over her. “It’s not Roger.” Her voice was firming up, and before the words left her sister’s mouth, Bess swayed where she stood. This was the sound of someone readying themself to deliver bad news. Having heard their friend’s raised voice, Helen and Joan appeared on the stairs. Bess looked up at them wide-eyed as she waited for Cora to deliver the devastating blow.

“Bess, it’s Tom.”

“What about him?” Bess’ voice was sharp, steel walls rising to avoid any pain.

“Douglas got a telegram this morning. Darling, Tom’s missing.”

The soft flesh of her knees split as she hit the floor, though she didn’t feel it. A hand groped for the receiver, now dangling from its wire, and Bess vaguely saw that it wasn’t hers.

“Hello? Cora? Yes, it’s Helen-”

Bess’ body was pulled sideways and her arms trapped at her sides. Joan had wrapped her arms about her and was holding her tight. Bess lay there silently, pressed into Joan’s chest as Helen spoke lowly into the telephone. A minute later, she joined them on the floor and covered Bess’ body with her own. Joan whispered gently in her ear, though what she was saying, Bess couldn’t tell. When Helen reached out an arm to grip Bess’ hand, it was then that she realised she was shaking. Quaking with paroxysms of despair.

“Come on, little love,” Joan brushed some hair out of Bess’ face. “Let’s get you upstairs.” Together, Helen and Joan hauled Bess to her room, patched up her knees and laid her own the bed.

“Dry your eyes,” Helen passed Bess a tissue. She’d been crying? All Bess knew was that in the time Cora had telephoned, she had seen nothing but Tom. Tom, trapped in a prisoner of war camp. Tom, lost in the wilderness of battle-scarred Europe. Tom, lying unfound in ditch. Tom, in a shallow grave next to the rotting body of her brother.

She stared at her bedroom wall. The light turned from egg-yolk yellow to bitter plum, the only indication that the day had faded into evening. Helen and Joan left few hours ago. Or was in ten minutes? Bess was beyond the world of noticing. When a knock came at the door, she did nothing, only continued to stare at the cold wall and peeling wallpaper.

“Bess, love?” Mrs Russo stood at the door to Bess’ bedroom. “Some post came for you.” When Bess didn’t move, the older woman stepped into the room and placed the letters on the bedside table in front of where she lay. “You’ll catch your death lying here,” Mrs Russo leant over Bess’ lifeless form and shut the window. “Come down later, if you feel up to it. I’ve made soup.” She kissed Bess’ head and left, the click of the door and her retreating footsteps the only sound.

When all was quiet again, Bess sighed. Before the war, she had been content, and that was all a working-class girl from the north of England could hope for. She would never open her own fashion house. Never marry a rich man. Likely never leave Manchester. But Bess did have her work, her family, her pride. She’d heard Dot speak about her fear of never achieving anything. Looking back at her life when she is an old woman and seeing nothing but duty and boredom. When did greatness and notoriety become the measures of a good life? Bess always told her, is it not enough to be joyful and love and be loved? To be content and happy. What now, then, when contentment and happiness had gone from her life? Albie alone in France, buried God knows where. Tom with him, or soon to join him? An older sister who would never know first love without fear. A younger sister whose remaining years of childhood were defiled by war, and a father wounded by grief.

Bess’ eyes drifted the letters Mrs Russo left. Her name was smudged a little, and for a fleeting moment, she thought it was Tom’s handwriting. The address, however, proved her excitement wrong and she stilled. Who was left to write? She took the letter and ripped open the envelope.

“I know what you’re trying to do. Telling me all about your little date in the hopes it will make me jealous. Would it make you smile, love, if I told you it was working?”

Bess dropped the letter like hot coal. She ran to the bedroom door and slammed it shut. Leant against the doorframe, she clutched her heart and felt it hammer against her chest. Even missing, Tom Bennett could still make her weak. Tentatively, as though it would scold to touch it, Bess padded to the bed and picked up the letter once more.

“Does he know you like I do? Does he know that you collected feathers and eggshells when you were small, or that you write secret letters to a criminal like me?”

With every word, her breath quickened and pulse raced.

“Can he read you like I can? That you only smoke as a means to avoid speaking?”

Her mouth went dry.

“That when your eyes darken and those perfect lips of yours part, when you blush and it spreads right across your nose, it means you desperately want fucking?”

Bess’ head hit the pillow.

“It means you desperately want fucking”

Despite her terror. Despite the grief of the day, Bess laughed. He wanted her. Until the moment he went missing, he wanted her. If he was alive, perhaps he still did. She reached for the photograph of Tom, propped against her lamp, and held it behind the letter. The other hand ran down the buttons of her loose shirt and ruched the hem of her skirt. Over the edge of the letter, Tom’s eyes watched her.

“Can he satisfy you like I can, Bess? Are his fingers long? Have they been inside you yet? I know I could do it, Bess, if you’d let me.”

Heat welled between her legs as she pressed a palm against her sex.

“If I try, I can hear you moaning my name. I can feel your cunt against me. If your family hadn’t come home I’d have ravished you, Bess. I’d have fucked you with my mouth, my fingers, my cock.”

Bess’ fingers dipped into the warmth of her folds, and with half-lidded eyes she committed Tom’s photograph to memory.

“Made love to you until your mind could think of nothing but me. Can this James boy do that for you? Can he satisfy you like I could?”

Over and over she read the letter, over and over her nimble fingers worked her arousal undone.

“I’m mad with wanting you, love. I’ll kill any man that gets in my way to you. You’re mine, Bess.”

With a shudder and moan of his name, Bess unravelled to the image of Tom on her tailor’s stand. Tom beating Walter Watson to a pulp. Tom between her legs. Weak from her release, the letter fluttered to the ground and for a few blissful moments Bess forgot her heartache. Tom Bennett still wanted her. She giggled and reached for the letter, desperate to read his words once more. As she leant over the bed, she saw the mess of paper on the ground. Tom’s photograph, his letter, and the second envelope. She must have knocked it to the ground in her haste to be rid of the first.

She froze. It was him. Again. The smudged scrawl. It was definitely him. Abandoning her attempt to retrieve the first letter, Bess once again ripped open the envelope. Would it be a repeat of the first? In a perverse way, she hoped it was.

“Your letters are the best thing that happens to me at sea, but I couldn’t bear being the cause of more pain.”

In direct opposition to his first letter, the second caused Bess’ heart to stop.

“We’re going into something big, Bess, and I’m scared I won’t come back.”

“Oh, Tom.” Bess stood from the bed and hurried her way through the tiny flat.

“If I don’t, know that I think of you every second of every day.”

She opened the door, eyes never leaving the page.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days regretting what I did to you but know this, I adore you.”

Tears were falling now, and she could feel them. Angry, heartbroken, elated, fearful tears.

“Think of me, as I’m forever thinking of you.”

Her feet brought her to a door on the second floor of the boarding house. She knocked twice and brushed some tears form her red cheeks. The door swung open, and Joan stood before her, cigarette in hand and hair in curlers.

“Bess?”

Bess could do nothing but hold up the letter and laugh sadly.

“He adored me.”

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

Tom watched as Webster’s blood funnelled through the tube and into his veins. What with the pain in his shoulder, the city heat and his growing unease at the Nazis walking the halls of the hospital, the sight did nothing to settle his stomach and he looked to the ceiling.

Webster, while admiring Tom’s spirit, was himself growing annoyed at the man’s impatient recklessness. He understood as much as any other his desperation to be away from Paris with the one he loved, but the reality was not as easy as their imaginations would wish.

“What are you going to do with out help?” Webster whispered quietly. “All these men need my help. You’re prisoners of war now.”

“I’ll head for the coast.” Even agitated, Tom seemed a cocksure and certain man. If not for the war, Webster would have liked a drink with Tom Bennett.

“And which way is that, hm?”

Tom paused. “I’ll think of something.”

“Listen,” Webster sat up a little, careful not to disturb the needle in his arm. “I’ve talked to a couple of French guys who are setting up an escape route. They can help you.” Tom’s eyebrows rose and he waited for Webster to continue. “You can go across the Pyrenees into Spain, Spain to Gibraltar then home from there.”

Tom smirked. “I get lost walking home from Belle-Vue, mate.” Exasperated and having reached the end of his capacity to cope with the Mancunian, Webster rested his head against the bedframe with a sigh. “What? You’ve never heard of Belle-Vue? You don’t know what you’re missing.” Bright lights flashed before his eyes and he could see Bess on the carousel, head tipped back with laughter. Tom smiled.

“First, you need to get registered as an injured prisoner of war,” Webster’s voice was hurried, eager to test out his plan.

“Yeah, then what?”

“Then you die.”

Tom looked at Webster flatly. “Well I hate to be picky-” Webster ignored him.

“Once you’re declared dead it makes it easier for you to escape. They won’t be looking for you.”

Tom spotted a flaw in the plan. “Won’t they want to see a corpse?”

“We’ve got no shortages of corpses, buddy.”

“And this’ll work, will it?”

“You’ll know before I do.” Tom stared at Webster, disbelieving. “We’ve never actually tried it before.”

Tom scoffed nervously. “Great.”

“The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be reunited with your girl-”

“She’s not my girl anymore.” Tom snapped, and the two watched in silence as the dark blood ran between them.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

“And Bess, thank you for the clothes. Douglas brought them over on his last visit.”

Despite herself, Bess felt a pang of jealousy. Douglas has clearly made a new friend since her move to the city. She’d have to drop in soon.

“Of course, Albie would’ve been glad to see them go to a good home.”

Robina Chase nodded awkwardly, caught somewhere between giving thanks and condolences. She turned away and began to dress as Bess packed away her tools. Summer meant preparing for autumn fashions. Or, in wartime Britain, autumn tailoring.

The front door opened and shut with a thud, and Robina sighed. “Will you stay for a cup of tea, Bess? What’s one more person, hm?” Bess smiled and followed the woman downstairs, where she saw Harry, Jan and a man that could only be Demba; Mrs Chase had already told Bess all about the Senegalese soldier Harry had brought home.

Harry kissed his mother’s cheek, and then Bess’. “I’m so sorry about Albie, Bess. We’ll miss his face at the dances.”

“And he’d miss the dancing!” Bess smiled to ease the sadness rapidly descending on the entrance hall. “You must be Demba.” She held out a hand to shake the stranger’s. His smile was warm when he shook her hand, and Bess could see why Harry liked him so.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He said.

“Miss!” Bess teased with mock offence.

“Pardon,” Demba held is hands to his heart and the three of them laughed. Mrs Chase clicked her tongue and hurried away to fetch the tea.

“Hello, Miss Bess,” A little voice said from behind Harry.

“Hello, Master Jan.” Bess held out a hand to him, which he took, and she led him into the sitting room where Robina was setting out the china. He perched himself on an armchair, and Bess took the seat next to Demba. Harry stood somewhat agitatedly behind them and watched as his mother picked up her newspaper.

PARIS HAS FALLEN

The headline was accompanied by an image of the Luftwaffe flying over Paris. Noticing the silence, Robina lowered the newspaper.

“Harry tells me you saved him.” She addressed Demba. He smiled graciously before replying.

“He saved a lot of men.” A true gentleman. Bess smiled before Robina could ruin the moment.

“How very reassuring,” she gave her son a pointed look.

“Like his mother and father perhaps?” Demba seemed unaware of the bump in the conversation. “His courage?”

“Harry’s father had many qualities, but it transpires that courage wasn’t one of them.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Harry’s tone was terse.

Robina bristled and picked up her newspaper. Bess wanted the plush settee to swallow her whole. She took a sip of her tea.

“The Germans didn’t bomb Paris,” Robina’s voice was hopeful. The three young people opposite stared at her. “That surely is a good sign.”

“Of what exactly?” Bess could hear Harry trying to restrain is frustration.

“That when all is said and done, at least they are a civilised people-”

“Je suis désolée,” Demba and Bess turned to look at Harry as he spoke. “Ma mère ne sait pas de quoi elle parle.”

KNOCK KNOCK KOCK

Thank Christ. Bess and Demba relaxed in their seats. Jan saw and giggled. The same could not be said of Robina, who sighed and threw her newspaper on the couch. “Surely this week can’t get any more surprising.” She strode towards the front door. The four left in the sitting room said nothing, and Bess stuck her tongue out at Jan to make him smile.

When Robina returned with Lois Bennett, Harry jolted forwards and, struck by a similar awkwardness to his mother, abruptly stopped whatever motion his body had been about to enact.

“Lois!”

“Bess?”

“Bess has been tailoring some clothes for me.” Lois sat next to Robina, and Harry plonked himself next to Bess, causing her to shuffle sideways into Demba. Silence reigned once more, until little Jan spoke up.

“Is Douglas coming?”

Robina laughed.

“No, sorry. But he sent you this,” Lois leant over her now enormous bump and picked up a package wrapped in brown paper. “It isn’t brand new. It’s the same one Tom had when he was your age.” She locked eyes with Bess, who suddenly found a loose thread on her trousers to fuss with. “Dad says next time you play, you can wear it.” Jan smiled, unaware of Lois and Bess’ sorrow.

“I feel rather as though I’ve arrived late at the theatre and need someone to explain the plot to me.” Robina look to Bess and Demba for agreement.

“I am sorry,” Lois said sincerely. “I had no idea you had so many people here.” She stood up and Harry did the same so suddenly it nearly caused Bess to spill her tea. He was pleading with Lois.

“Lois, wait. I…”

Sensing that she was intruding on familial politics far more complicated than she first assumed to know, Bess jumped from her seat. “Come on Jan, let’s see if Tom’s shirt improves your aim.” The little boy laughed and followed her into the garden, the red football jersey trailing behind him.

“She’s an odd girl, Demba.” Robina said as the four remaining in the house watched Bess and Jan play. “Would be ever so charming if she only sorted her hair and wore rouge. There’s a spinster in the making.”

“Mother, please.”

From the garden, Bess kept one eye on Jan and one on the people in the sitting room. When Demba was the only person left sitting, she ran inside.

“Harry?” She was a little out of breath. “Do you have a camera? I want to get a photo of Jan in his jersey.”

“Just a minute.” Clearly glad of an excuse to leave, Harry left the room. No-one spoke, and Bess saw Robina’s eyes follow the path of Harry’s footsteps on the ceiling above. He returned a minute later with a camera and handed it to Bess. “Keep it,” Robina opened her mouth to protest but Harry silenced her with a look. “I never used it.”

“Thank you,” Bess squeezed his hand and ran back outside.

“Jan!” The boy stopped kicking the football against the wall and looked at her. She held up the camera. “Give us your best pose.” The little boy placed his arms against his hips and foot atop the ball. Bess laughed and clicked the camera. “Very good!”

Lois put her head into the garden. “Harry is taking me home, Bess. Do you want a lift?”

“No, you’re alright, I’m going to stay with Jan for a bit.” She beamed at the boy and he smiled back, thinking of his older sister as he did. “And if you need help, when the time comes,” Bess nodded to Lois’ bump. “You let me know.”

“Thanks, love.” Bess and Jan watched as she retreated into the house.

“Right then, young man,” Bess clapped the little boy on the shoulder. “Show us what you’ve got.” She ran into the makeshift goal and Jan lined up the football.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

That night, after her dinner with Mrs Russo and the other girls, Bess made her way to her room. Switching on the wireless, she tuned it to some music and covered her windows with the blackouts. From her bedside table, she retrieved the stack of Tom’s letters she had gathered over the nine months since the war began. All but one, which she left tucked beneath her pillow. Rereading it had become a common occurrence in her night-time routine. And morning routine, come to think of it.

Sat at the kitchen table, under the soft lamplight, Bess twiddled a pen between her fingers as she read over his last letter.

“I adore you.”

Tom was right, he knew her better than anyone. All those years of stolen conversations and silent glances. And just as Bess had found her voice, found herself opening her heart to him in her letters he was gone. Tom might never come back, but Bess wasn’t ready to let go of him yet. Contentment and love could still be hers if she tried.

Retrieving a leaf of paper, Bess unscrewed the cap of her pen and began to write.

Tom,

Your letter arrived the same day I found out you are missing, and you broke my heart for the third time. Your letters could never hurt me, and I only wish I could look forward to more.

She stopped to hastily wipe away a tear. Looking at Tom’s letter, she answered each of his admission in turn.

If I never see you again, I hope you are resting now in the knowledge that I too, think of you every single day and will never stop.

If, by some miracle, you come back home to us, know that I will spend the rest of my life regretting the night we fought and that day at the train station. I’ll never stop telling you how much I adore you.

Dream of me, wherever you are, as I am forever dreaming of you.

Yours, as I always have been,

Bess.

She placed the sheet of paper in an envelope, writing Tom’s name and date on the fore. With nowhere to send it, nowhere to send her love, Bess rested her head against the table and wept.

Notes: Jan and Demba deserve the world! I changed the order of some of the TV scenes just to make it flow a little better. We’re with Tom more for the next chapter, which will probably be up sometime mid-next week as I’m heading home for a hen do. Will try to get some writing done on the dismally long journey. Want to really get inside his head and his feelings!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 '@exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

[twyftwyt]

MASTERPOST

When @noah-seb-omens tagged me in a ski mask post and suggested I write a prompt about a masked Noah, I knew I had to take this seriously, but I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted it to be a one time story or a slow burn kind of a moment. And then I remembered that if anything, I am a tease and I cannot just give everything away the first time. So with the possibility to leave you frustrated at the end of this, I give you “The Prey and the Hunter”. You have @noah-seb-omens to thank for urging me to write this and you are always welcome in my inbox with feedback and suggestions. Enjoy, my dear feral friends.

Yours truly,

🦦

a little disclaimer: this is going to be R-rated so if you do not wish to get down and dirty, please scroll away; this part is pretty clean but there are still suggestions of dom/sub relationship and restraining;

The Prey and the Hunter

Chapter 1

She shines

in a world full of ugliness

She matters

when everything is meaningless…

I could hear him whistling to himself, something slow and seductive. I tried to judge his distance from me, it sounded like he might be in the kitchen but I couldn’t be sure.

I tried to shift my weight in the chair I was sitting in but the cuff on my wrist dug into my skin. I wasn’t really sure how long I had been here. The silence and stillness in the darkness of the room all but removed my sense of anything. I only had my hearing to go on. My heart was pounding in my ears and I tried to lick my lips nervously, but the cloth between my teeth prevented me. I talked myself into slow, steady breaths through my nose to calm myself down. The cool, hard back of the chair lined against my spine. My wrists were cuffed behind it, keeping my posture absolutely perfect. I could tell by the weight and sharpness that the cuffs were metal. And they weren’t loose. They locked in tight enough to make any kind of rotation of my wrists almost impossible. And when possible - very painful. My knees were spread and when I tried to adjust my position, I felt the restraints holding them in place against the legs of the chair. My entire body was immobile.

Fragile

She doesn’t see her beauty

She tries to get away

Sometimes..

Noah’s whistle seemed somewhere further away now, completely carefree. Teasing. I blinked behind the darkness and bowed my head. Not in defeat but to rather gather myself from the sensory deprivation he brought on me. As much as I tried to calm myself, my heart deceived me and pounded furiously beneath the black bra I wore. What a picture this must be. Bound, gagged and blindfolded to a chair in nothing but thigh high stockings, a skimpy pair of panties and a bra. I started to smile behind my gag but heard his footsteps coming closer and quickly regained my composure.

I could feel him near me. Smell him. He stood still, not making a sound. I heard something creak and felt his feet rest on the chair between my knees. He must be sitting on the table in front of me. I kept my chin down, towards my chest, letting my hair curtain my face. I could sense his eyes on me but he never spoke, never moved. I jumped slightly when the tip of his finger touched the top of my thigh and softly traced a line to my knee. I heard him hop off the table and then he was gone again. When his moist, hot breath brushed against my ear I shot my head up. I never heard him come up behind me and the shock of his low voice scared me.

“I’ll take the gag off now, but you have to promise to be silent.” his voice was deep, his tone firm. I nodded once to show that I understood and I felt his fingers work the knot behind my head, the fabric fell away and landed on my lap. Quickly, I licked my lips, rewetting them after so long of being dry. Whistling to himself again, he circled around me before kneeling on the floor between my knees. His fingertips reached out and lifted my head up. His thumb rubbed across my bottom lip and I subconsciously parted my lips slightly.

“Eager, are we?” his voice was barely above a whisper and just as my lips started to form a response, I remembered to be silent. The heat of his body as he leaned in closer to me bounced off my electrified skin and I sucked in my breath, holding it, waiting for his next move.

“You look beautiful when you’re helpless.” his lips a hair from my own as he spoke. Lazily he dragged his fingertip down my throat and between my breasts. Softly he pressed his mouth to mine, kissing me quickly. I heard him lean back, away from me but I could still sense him in front of me. I could feel his eyes taking in my body. His hands reached out and grabbed my hips, his nails digging into my skin. When he raked them down the insides of my thighs I arched my back instinctively. I knew he could play this game for hours, but I wanted him to give in. It was worse when he leaned forward and left a trail of wet kisses across the top of my thigh. I could feel the thick fabric of what felt like something covering the space around his mouth. My head instantly went there. It must have been the ski mask. He was wearing the ski mask. And he wanted me to feel it. To know that this is not just another day of the prey and the hunter, but rather a much darker, infused with torture evening. I wanted to reach and grab his head and guide it where I wanted it most. He picked up his head from my lap placed a feathery kiss on top of each of my breasts before moving up further to sharply bite at my collar bone. I moaned softly as his teeth dug into my flesh, unable to help myself.

As he dragged his lips across my chest to bite the other side of my collar bone, he murmured against my skin, “You aren’t being silent”

Again, his teeth bore down into my skin and his tongue flicked over the indents I’m sure he left behind.

He moved away and again I was alone. The bit he left throbbed in time to my heartbeat. I heard a phone ring in the distance. Once.. twice…three times and then silence. His shoes kept a muted beat against the marble floor as he walked, this time humming to himself. I strained to hear him, where in the house he was, what he was doing. His humming sounded further away and then slowly came closer and closer until he was in the same room as me again. Just as his nearness, my body responded. My breath quickened slightly, the tiny hairs on my arms stood on end. I swallowed hard, keeping my chin down but cocking my head to the side as if trying to pinpoint his exact location in the room. He was behind me, that much I knew, but he had fallen silent. The clang of keys on a tabletop, followed by what sounded like a pocketful of random change brought me from my thoughts and I listened carefully.

A boot dropped to the floor, followed by the second one. The sound of a zipper right behind my head made my stomach flip-flop and I let my tongue dart my lips in anticipation. I knew he wasn’t going to give in to me already, the game was about anticipation and fear and he played it like a master. Conducting his own symphony and gloating to himself as every reaction he evoked from me, came to him almost effortlessly. His calloused hand touched my hair, twisting a lock between his two fingers playfully. I could see his face, clear as day, in my mind, the expression I have seen countless times before. But I knew this time was different. I had asked him, jokingly, to put on the mask a few times while we were fooling around or going at it, but he always shrugged it off with “this needs preparation” or “you’re not ready for that yet”. Seems I had finally been deemed worthy. I squirmed against the wooden chair, foolishly, but unable to sit anymore. Immediately his fingers twisted a handful of my hair into his fist and I readied myself, the sound of my sharp intake of breath seemingly much louder than it was in the silent room. My head yanked back, not hard, but hard enough to understand his intentions. I was nothing but prey to him in this very moment. A toy to toss around in his hands until he fell bored of it. And I was more than willing to play the part.

“Do you trust me?” his voice became more of a growl, one I knew and yearned for, animalistic. I could hear him gritting his teeth through his words. I nodded my head yes as best as I could and forced myself to take short, shallow breaths. His fingers cut off my airway enough to prevent a full lungful

of air. I had to trust him otherwise I would panic and if I panicked the game would be over. And it was my first time playing with that Noah. With that animalistic side of him that I saw awoke only during shows and at his most feral and primal moments. And I was ready to take whatever he had to offer. And I knew I was either going to be begging for it or running away from it just fast enough for him to catch me and make me cry for it.

[thenovelartist]

Life After Destruction - Chapter 3 - Honkai: Star Rail

<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter>

It was the morning of their departure from the Luofu, and Stelle was getting dressed for the day.

Er... trying to.

“You couldn’t have marked me elsewhere?” she commented as she stared at herself in the mirror. More specifically, at the red marks across her neck and shoulders. “Like, somewhere easier to hide?”

“Heat of the moment,” Dan Heng dismissed with a gleam in his eyes.

She shot him a frown, watching with dismay as the marks she’d given him in return were easily hidden beneath his shirt collar. “Why am I the only one paying for it?” she muttered, looking through her clothes once again.

A pair of arms wrapped around her torso from behind. “Sorry,” Dan Heng whispered before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I’m not going to forgive you so easily,” she grumbled, unsure if it was aimed at him or a reminder for herself.

“Then would you like me to help you find something to cover them?”

She shook her head, reaching for a shirt to examine. “No, it’s fine. You’re welcome to head out to breakfast first. I’ll meet you out there.”

“Are you certain?”

“Unless you want to listen to me continue to complain.”

He huffed, amused. “Then I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“See you.”

They shared a quick kiss before he slipped away and out of the room, smile on his face all the while.

With a disappointed sigh, she put the shirt in her hands down only to pick up another. It was plain white, but it had a high collar. She put it up to her chest in deliberation. Sure, it went with her skirt, but if she paired it with her favorite jacket, she was bound to get a comment from Himeko as to why she was wearing a high collar when she usually didn’t. And that was a question Stelle did not want to answer.

But then she caught sight of her hair sticks, ones Dan Heng had so carefully removed and set aside last night. Could she pull off the high collar if she wore her hair up with it?

Well, there was no harm in trying.

After putting on the shirt and her jacket, she decided it wasn’t too bad, although a little strange with the differing necklines. She looked through her collection of hair sticks, selecting one that boasted a brilliant orange flower. She remembered this one fondly, seeing as it was the first accessory Dan Heng had gotten for her claiming it reminded him of her eyes. For as little Dan Heng cared about objects, he sure took his time to select meaningful gifts for her. It made them all seem so precious.

She twisted her hair up, securing it with the stick then trying her best to get a good look at it in the mirror.

And hey, it didn’t look half bad. Hopefully, her hair would be enough to distract others from her high shirt collar. Maybe this way, she could pull off the excuse of trying to emulate the Luofu style today.

Yeah, she could totally do that.

With a newfound confidence, she headed out to the parlor car, where everyone was probably waiting for her by now.

“Ah, there she is,” Himeko greeted.

“Hey!” March added on. “You have your hair up!”

Stelle hoped her smile wasn’t awkward. “Y-yeah.”

“It’s cute!” she continued.

“It is,” Himeko agreed. “You should wear it like that more often.”

“I know, And I’d like to…” Stelle remarked, taking her seat between her husband and March at the breakfast table. “But they sometimes come loose in a fight.”

"You could avoid fighting all-together, you know," Dan Heng teased, reaching out to gently touch a silk petal.

"It's not like I look for fights," she lightly returned. "But I never know what will come my way as a Nameless, and I don't want to lose them."

“If you do, I’ll get you another."

“I’d rather take care of the things you give me."

“Ugh,” March grumbled, her nose scrunching as she pouted. “You two are so cute. When will it be my turn?”

“Maybe one day, March,” Welt calmly spoke. “Although, it’s hard to find someone as a Nameless. You might have more luck if you settled down somewhere.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” she countered.

Himeko giggled. “Maybe the universe will bring a new traveler just for you.”

“A girl can hope,” March sighed, dropping her chin into her hands. “So, we finished our business at the Xianzhou, right? Where are we headed now?”

“Well, considering our final member has gotten a clean bill of health, we can start exploring again,” Himeko answered. “I’ve already planned our itinerary for the next few months."

Welt hummed, frown on his face. “You say that as though we’re going for fun and not to clean up a mess Nanook left for us.”

At that, a wave of dread hit everyone at the table. Nanook may have been defeated but it came at the cost of shooting stellarons across the cosmos. Meaning that they were on clean-up duty for life.

“Well,” Himeko chirped, trying to keep up her positive attitude. “At least we’ll never be able to say we’re bored?”

“I think I’d rather be bored,” March grunted.

“I second that,” Stelle tiredly agreed.

“If Stelle’s agreeing with me, that’s a bad sign!”

Welt and Himeko both chuckled while Dan Heng simply shook his head in amusement.

“Even so,” Welt said. “We have a duty as the Nameless to help in whatever capacity we can. And that includes hunting down stellarons. However, I would like to mention that for our next stop, I think Stelle should stay on board.”

“Huh?” Stelle’s eyes widened.

“I agree,” Himeko said, giving Stelle an apologetic look. “You only just got a clean bill of health after giving us quite the scare. I think that for the next couple of missions, it would be best for you to stay with the Express until the situation can be assessed. Once we determine the situation is stable, then you can go explore.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” March cautiously added. “I agree with them.”

“Et tu, Brute?” Stelle bemoaned.

“Sorry!” March cried. “But… we were really worried about you.”

Stelle sighed, a slightly bitter smile making its way across her expression. Yet, despite everything, she couldn’t say this came as a surprise, nor could she say they were being unreasonable. Her family was concerned for her, and she didn't want to worry them any more than she had. “No, I understand. I guess I have no choice but to behave.”

Underneath the table, Dan Heng patted her leg. She spared him a glance, only to see a sympathetic look on his face. She didn’t need to ask where he stood on the matter; she knew full well that while he thought it was for the best, he still felt sorry for her.

“I can stay with you,” he suggested. “If you’d like.”

She shook her head. “Something tells me you’re itching to get back out into the field. And you’ve been on Stelle-care duty for so long that I think forcing you to go out might be better for your sanity.”

“I’ll stay with Stelle,” Welt offered. “Since I know Himeko is getting antsy, too.”

The woman in question hid her sheepish smile behind her coffee mug as she took a sip.

Stelle bit back a teasing retort of her own. It was no small wonder Himeko was antsy considering she was the first of the crew to get the all-clear. However, that came as no surprise since she’d been at the rear, holding down the fort, but Stelle never once envied Himeko for her "seemingly safe" position. That woman had been in charge of the home camp, doing everything from managing communications between fleets, monitoring the medical units and the transport of the injured, and rationing supplies. She’d also been the first on scene whenever trouble managed to slip through their rear guard, a sector that had been led by Welt. She’d hardly been sitting on her laurels and sipping coffee while the galaxy had gone to hell.

“Then it will be me, Himeko, and Dan Heng,” March piped up. “Which I’ll only be okay with as long as Dan Heng promises not to fuss over Stelle the whole time.”

Dan Heng narrowed his eyes at her.

Sniggering, Stelle leaned back in her seat in a pitiful attempt to escape being in the middle of the rivalry. 

“You know I’m not exaggerating!” March quipped. “Every time you have to be separated from Stelle, you get all mopey.”

“I do not.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“That’s enough,” Welt cut in before the two could really get started.

“Anyway,” Himeko said. “To get back on topic, I do believe Pom-pom said we were going to hit warp-speed right after breakfast.”

“I’m assuming that the preparations involved with that is why our conductor is not eating breakfast with us,” Welt asked.

Himeko nodded.

Which made sense. Stelle had been wondering where their adorable conductor was.

“We should arrive within two days,” Himeko continued. “Barring any unforeseen circumstances. So I hope everyone is ready for our next adventure?”

Despite knowing what danger they were bound to be facing and the hard work they had ahead of them, Stelle knew everyone at the table was genuinely excited. As was she. This was their life: maybe a bit chaotic but worth living nevertheless. Even if their first “normal” adventure after the war was her staying with the train, she’d take it.

However, if they only had two days before arrival, that meant there was one little loose end to wrap up before starting off that new adventure.

Subtly as she could, she snuck a glance at her husband. Well, she supposed she would have plenty of time to talk to Bailu about the results of a certain experiment if she were to stay back on the train. She’d just have to pin her husband down before he left.

~~~

March had fallen over… again.

Dan Heng had long come to accept she’d never learn.

Other than that, the day of travel had been blissfully uneventful. He’d spent it organizing data files on the planet they were bound for in order to best prepare everyone for their stop. And while he was not looking forward to cleaning up stellaron crisis after stellaron crisis for the foreseeable future, he wouldn’t deny that getting back to traveling through the stars and exploring was much preferable to waging war against an aeon.

Having finished his shower, he headed back to his room, only to be greeted with the sight of his wife standing shirtless in front of the mirror as she applied Bailu’s salve to her scar.

Speaking of Bailu’s medication…

Shutting the door behind him, his eyes drifted over to the nightstand where a seemingly innocuous piece of candy lay. Maybe he had been too emotional last night to think straight about the medicine because all day long, his previous concerns had been haunting him. No matter how many times he told himself this was to help Bailu help others or simply to indulge his wife, the bad feeling that had slowly been growing inside him wouldn’t disappear. However, he knew they’d have to try it tonight, so he did his best to mentally prepare for it.

“Hey, perfect timing,” Stelle said, turning away from the little mirror on their dresser to face him. “Get over here.”

With a sigh, he did as told, slipping out of his shirt as he made his way over.

She smiled as she began swiping salve from the little jar to rub over the wounds on his shoulders. “Bailu gave me the all-clear to use this on you, by the way,” she said.

“Oh? You messaged her?”

“Yeah, just so she’d know I’d have to replace it sooner. She said that it was fine and she was happy to make some for all the crew if they needed it.”

“That’s nice of her,” he said, trying to focus on anything other than his wife’s tender touch. Or the fact that her teal-colored sports bra was one of his favorite things to see her in.

“Mm-hmm,” Stelle agreed. “Now, turn around.”

That he could do.

“And you think my scar’s bad,” she muttered.

He tensed at her warm touch, a sharp contrast to the slightly cool salve. “Is it ugly?”

She hummed in deliberation. “Mine is uglier; yours is bigger. They’re both bad in their own ways.” She then pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “But I still love you.”

He couldn’t hold back his smile even if he wanted to. “Love you, too.”

It hardly took any time for Stelle to finish applying the salve. “There. Done.”

He heard the clink of the lid being set back on the jar, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, his gaze was once again drawn to the nightstand. More specifically, to the little piece of candy on it. He walked over to grab it.

“So, you’ve been thinking about it, too, huh?”

Dan Heng looked up just in time to see the mischievous glint in Stelle’s eye, one that always promised trouble. “Yes. Realistically, we’ll have to tonight so as to get back to Bailu in good timing.”

“Uh-huh,” Stelle smugly agreed as she stepped closer to him. “So, about that… I have a little proposition.”

Dan Heng quirked a brow at her. “And that is?”

“This was once used in illegal love potions, correct?” she asked, tapping on the candy in his hands. “So I thought the effects must be potent, particularly if Bailu was so careful to limit how much she used. I propose we resist these supposed effects as much as possible. The first person to throw themselves at the other loses.”

Turning over the candy in his hands, he mulled over her words. “So, you’re saying you want to resist each other?” he asked for clarification. “Even though you originally wanted this to bring us together?”

“Well, originally, sure. But… last night…” A tinge of red touched her cheeks, softening that smug grin of hers. “We can get ourselves into enough trouble. And that’s… that’s way better than using an aphrodisiac for it.”

A fluttery feeling bubbled up in his chest at her words. He couldn’t find it in him to disagree with her.

“Besides,” she continued, “you’ll want to study the effects of this thing, anyway, so think of it as a challenge of how long you can keep your head on straight before you cave. And if it doesn’t do anything, then why force it? That’s the point of testing the aphrodisiac, right?”

“You’ve really thought this out.”

“I mean, isn’t that what Bailu wants from us? To make sure it’s not potent enough to cause trouble? Besides, I’m kinda curious, now. Like, is it really that strong, or is it a hoax?”

She did have a point. For all they knew, the little data that Bailu received could have been flawed. “A valid question.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” She puffed out her chest proudly. “So, what do you think?”

If he was being honest, he still wasn’t fully sure what to think. The uncertainty was still there, but she did make an interesting proposition. He’d been looking for a way to prepare himself all day, so Stelle's proposeal of a purely scientific approach seemed to be the best way to face this predicament he’d gotten himself into. “I will not lose to you. Data collecting is my specialty.”

“I know, but your wife is very competitive.”

That, he knew.

With a smirk, she took the candy from him and began unwrapping it. And after taking a step forward, her chest now mere inches from his, she put half the candy between her teeth.

All he had to do was lean forward to take it.

“I sincerely hope we do not regret this.” That said, he reached up to cradle Stelle’s cheeks. A giggle escaped her as he leaned forward, lips brushing hers as he bit off his half of the candy.

“I trust Bailu’s research,” Stelle quietly spoke around the candy in her mouth. “She did say she added what she deemed to be a safe amount. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“That is a question I’d prefer not to have answered.”

Chuckling, she stepped away from him. “Want to play a board game as we wait for this supposed love potion to kick in? It will give you a chance to record whatever data you find necessary, too.”

He huffed, a little bewildered by the suggestion yet unsurprised. Such was life with Stelle. “Sure, why not.”

“So, do you want me to put a shirt on, or can I keep tempting you?”

He looked her over, noting her teal sports bra and tight, red shorts she wore. She was showing a lot of skin, and Dan Heng would be lying if he said he didn’t find it attractive. But he was not one to cave to base desires so easily, no matter how tempting his wife was. Besides, he supposed it would be fair since he didn’t want to replace his shirt, either. The salve she'd put on him was quite pungent, and considering they didn't know how long it would take to fade out of their sheets or her shirt, it was probably for the best to let it air out instead of ruining more clothes. “It won’t make a difference.”

“Oh, you sound cocky.”

“There is a difference between cockiness and confidence, and it’s best not to mistake them.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “For that, I’m choosing the game. You just go write down your data or whatever.”

He snorted. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad.

And maybe he spoke too early.

No, he definitely spoke too early.

Because by the end of the second game, he was feeling the effects very, very strongly.

“You’re really red,” Stelle observed, concern wavering in her voice.

One glance at her proved she wasn’t fairing much better. “You are, too.”

“I might be, but I don’t look like I’m dying.”

That was true. On the contrary, the flush of her cheeks only added to her beauty. It made the red hints in her golden eyes glow all the brighter. But the longer he stared into those eyes of the woman he loved so much, the faster his heart raced and, consequently, the harder it became to catch his breath.

“You need me to take notes?” she asked.

“You’re taking your own notes, right?” he said, forcing his eyes down to the paper and pen at his side. “I… I can take mine.”

He focused on picking up the pen, checking the time, and then describing his symptoms to the best of his ability. And once he managed that, he made a note of just how hard such a task was to do. It was a struggle to focus on anything, and the pounding in his head wasn’t helping any, either.

“Okay,” he said, taking a heavy breath before turning back to the board before him. “Shall we play another round?”

“Are you up for it?” Stelle asked, calling his attention to her again. “Maybe you should go lay down."

He shook his head, which was a terrible idea because it caused his world to start spinning. “No, I’m fine. I can keep going. I… won’t lose this bet.”

Stelle grimaced in concern but soon picked up one of the game pieces. “Alright.”

They made it halfway through the game before Dan Heng was seriously debating giving up. His chest felt uncomfortably tight, and his head was pounding as though he'd taken a beating. But worst of all was how intensely focused on Stelle he found himself to be. On her golden eyes, the pretty color that stained her cheeks, the marks he’d decorated her shoulders and chest with last night.

That thought sent a possessive feeling coursing through him, his gut tightening and breath hitching at the warm rush. Mine. The errant thought popped up and wouldn’t leave.

In a second of sanity, he slammed his eyes shut and hung his head. Get a grip, he warned himself.

“Dan Heng?”

He held his hand up in a motion to give him a minute to pull it together. Then, in an act of desperation, he allowed himself to transform into his vidyadharan appearance. He preferred hiding it as much as possible with few exceptions: whenever they went to see Bailu being the main one. But on the flip side, the one place he hated this appearance was when he was with Stelle in private. Hiding it made him feel normal, like his past didn’t have a hold on his future. And it was a comfort that Stelle happily accepted him just like that.

But right now, dropping that disguise allowed him just a touch more energy to focus on fighting… whatever the hell was going on with him at the moment.

When he looked back up at his wife, he was met with her wide-eyed bewilderment. “Sorry,” he grunted out. “Bear with me.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but it took a few seconds for the words to come out. “It’s fine, but if we need to stop this, say so. You’re worrying me.”

Great, that was exactly what he’d not wanted to do. “I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look like she believed him in the slightest.

Which was fair. He wasn’t sure he believed himself. “Let’s just… finish this game.”

“Okay.”

In the end, she’d won, but he would hardly protest the loss. He felt like he was dying between the physical effects and trying to keep the ever-increasing desire for his wife under control.

“I’m calling off the bet,” Stelle said, concern carved into her features. “You need to go lay—”

“Don’t touch me,” he warned, shooting her a glare as she reached for him. He didn’t want to snap at his wife, but that was far better than snapping on her. “I… I don’t want to hurt you.”

There was a pause as she pulled her hand back. “Are you really okay?”

As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t lie to her or himself. “No.”

“Okay, so it’s bad,” she muttered to herself. He barely heard it considering how his head was spinning and his ears were ringing. “Still, you need to lay down. I’m really worried for you.”

“I should leave.”

“What?”

He forced himself to stand but ended up leaning on the table for support when he almost lost his balance. “I’ll go sleep in the archives—”

“I’ll go sleep in the archives,” Stelle cut in. “Please, Dan Heng, just lay down.”

“It’s fine. You take the bed.”

“Not a chance.”

He looked up at her, a muddle of messy emotions rolling through him like the churning waters at Scalegorge. “Stay.”

“Make me.”

She spun on her heels to leave, but before she could take two steps towards the door, he grabbed her wrist, yanking her back towards him so hard she crashed into his chest. Except her touch felt like lightning, and a painful throbbing began pulsing through his body at their contact.

He scrunched his eyes shut. Keep it together, he mentally warned all while he felt like he was falling apart.

“Dan Heng.”

Her voice, sweeter than pure sugar, broke through his thoughts.

Keep it together.

That’s when he felt her lean even closer to him, and his hands tightened their already firm grip on her arms. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“I don’t—”

“I trust you.”

And then she kissed him.

Something in him snapped, and he threw himself into her featherlight kiss with all the pent-up passion that had been brewing inside him, the rest of the side effects temporarily forgotten. He clung to her tightly as though he was terrified she’d disappear from his grasp at any given second, and she made a muffled moan in response.

Aeons, that sparked a fire in him.

Acting on impulse, he pushed her back, back, back until her knees hit the bed, and when she threw her arms around his shoulders to steady herself, he collapsed down with her.

Her touch burned him, but he craved it, his skin feeling like ice if it disappeared. Between this fervor and the other dizzying symptoms, the world had faded away, leaving Stelle to be the only thing on his mind.

“I’m yours,” she murmured against his lips. “And I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He wasn’t sure how he got those words out at all. He didn’t feel like himself. But at the same point, her words reached the deepest part of him, serving to bolster his rampant emotions and making it all the harder to do what he knew he should: bring this to a stop.

“But I do,” she countered, arching up against him and running her fingers over his shoulders. “And I always will.”

… Did he say he wanted to stop this? With his wife murmuring sweet words of encouragement like that in his ear and clinging to him like she would perish if he left?

Forget it. He had better things to do.

~~~

Stelle: Bailu.

Stelle: What in aeon’s name did you put in that little candy of yours?

Stelle: Because it is NOT safe for consumption.

Stelle sent off the texts to Bailu, then dropped her phone back on the bedside table. She couldn’t move much more than that, seeing as she had a dead tired vidyadhara laying on top of her.

With a sigh, she began stroking his long hair. It was a very rare occurrence for Dan Heng to be in his vidyadharan form, even more so when he was here in the Astral Express. But he’d never made love to her in that form before, making last night an exception beyond exceptions. It wasn’t like it had been any different, but she had to admit it was fascinating to know his eyes almost glowed in the dark. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or if she found it unnerving, particularly when they were focused on her so intently.

A ding echoed in the silent room. Surprised at the quick response, Stelle reached over to blindly fumble for her phone.

Bailu:( ⁰д⁰) What happened?

Indeed, that was the question. Stelle was still trying to piece everything together herself. Last night felt like a dream, her mind hazy. But the new lovebite marks dotting her skin and ache wracking her body certainly proved something happened. A very intense something.

Stelle: Let’s just say the aphrodisiac has very different effects on different species. Particularly Vidyadharas.

An understatement, Stelle thought. A massive understatement.

Stelle: I only just escaped with my life.

Bailu:  (o_O) ?

Bailu: Is Dan Heng okay?

Stelle: He is breathing.

Stelle: I would have put you through the reincarnation process myself if he was not.

Bailu: ( ＞Д＜ ) I’M SORRY!

Bubbles appeared for three seconds before vanishing again. And they didn’t return for some time.

Bailu: Can I call you? I’d like to hear all the details.

Stelle: I have a sleeping Vidyadhara on top of me. I dare not wake him. 

Stelle: It was a rough night for him. 

When it took longer than a few seconds to get a response, it clicked what Stelle had just admitted. She knew she could be shameless at times, but realizing just what she had said, and specifically what could be implied from that, was a little much, even for her.

Oops. 

Eventually, just as Stelle was about to put her phone back down on the nightstand, it dinged. 

Bailu: Noted.

Bailu: Then if you wouldn’t mind typing everything out, I could have notes to refer back to. 

Bailu: Start with you. How do you feel?

Stelle paused as she sorted through her thoughts, throwing her shame out the window as she tried to be as accurate as possible.

Stelle: Within twenty minutes, I was warm, but not hot. Racing heart. Notably increased attraction to my husband. And I was very sensitive to touch.

Her face flared at the memory of him grabbing her, yanking her back against him. Her heart had pounded like a drum, a needy warmth flooding her chest, and everywhere their skin touched had ached. Everything after that was a blur, her mind having shut down. But Bailu didn’t need to know those details.

Bailu: Do you have any side effects this morning?

Side effects? Well… er… she was feeling incredibly exhausted and a little sore, but with no small amount of embarrassment, Stelle realized that probably didn’t have anything to do with the medicine. But the way her head was spinning and the sledgehammer pounding behind her eyes was notable.

Stelle: Tired? But that might have been because I was awake late into the night.

Stelle: and a headache. Dan Heng also mentioned he was feeling one very strongly last night.

Bailu: Anything else?

Stelle: No, that was about it. For me, at least, as a short-lifed human imbued with a stellaron.

Bailu: Noted.

Bailu: So, what happened to Dan Heng???

Stelle sighed. Where did she even begin?

Channeling her inner Dan Heng, Stelle tried to be as logical and data-focused about this whole thing as she could be.

Stelle: I can’t speak for him, so you’ll have to ask for specifics later, but I can do my best. 

Stelle: Twenty minutes in, and he was experiencing similar symptoms to me, but seemingly more intense. He was really flushed, and he was breathing heavily. 

Stelle: Within five minutes after that, he transformed into his Vidyadhara form. His symptoms kept growing worse, and he was grabbing at his chest. 

Stelle: I tried to help him, but he was so sensitive to my touch he snapped at me not to.

Bailu: Wait, what do you mean transform?

Oh, that's right. She didn't know.

Stelle: Dan Heng likes keeping his vidyadhara form hidden as much as possible. He only transforms for you or are on the Luofu in general.

Bailu: I didn't know that! Why?

Stelle: You best ask him for the details.

Bailu: Fine. :( Anything else?

Oh, there was. There absolutely was. But even if Bailu was a doctor and studying medicine, Stelle didn’t really find a need to explain anything beyond that.

Stelle: Um… ask him later.

Stelle: What I can say is that the effects lasted for about an hour before he finally passed out, and he was really suffering through them.

That was true, at least. Which made her feel intensely guilty about talking him into this in the first place. She’d been curious about the strength of this love potion, sure, and while she could say the symptoms could have been fun under the right circumstances, she never would have suggested playing with this aphrodisiac if she’d known how poorly they’d affect her husband.

Bailu: Understood. I’ll talk with him later. 

Bailu: Thank you for doing this for me! I owe you both lunch next time you come back. I didn’t even think this would affect different species so differently! None of my research suggested that. I’ll be more careful with this medicine, then. Even if it means starting with a REALLY low dose and slowly upping the potency, it’s better than causing my patients to be negatively affected. 

Stelle: Please do.

Stelle: Oh, and my guess is Dan Heng is going to chew you out later, so good luck. 

Bailu:.·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·. Mercy, Stelle!

The figure lying over her stirred, calling Stelle’s attention. After setting the phone back down on the nightstand, she began stroking his hair.

With a light sigh, he relaxed against her. “Stelle?”

Aeons, that morning voice should be illegal. She wondered if he could hear her heart rate pick up at that rough, slightly groggy tone. “Morning,” she quietly spoke.

He grunted.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He took a few deep breaths. “Head. Hurts.” Each word he spoke was strained, speaking to just how bad his pain was.

Which only made her feel more guilty, but she’d apologize properly later. “Need anything?” she asked. “Water? Or sleep?”

“Tired.”

Feeling sorry for him, she lay a hand over his head, cradling it against her chest.

He seemed to relax under her touch.

“I’ll text Himeko to have breakfast without us. We can blame it on Bailu.”

He hummed. “’kay.”

After a moment of just holding her husband—and mentally running through a million apologies—Stelle reached for her phone, taking a moment to mull over just how to phrase things. Eventually, she settled on texting Himeko that both she and Dan Heng were feeling a little under the weather due to a reaction from some well-intentioned medicine.

Himeko had replied instantly.

With a smug expression emoji.

Himeko: No problem. You two just have fun in bed, okay. ;)

Stelle’s headache suddenly got worse. A lot worse.

Deciding she wasn’t going to respond to that, she opened up the text thread to Bailu again.

Stelle: Dan Heng still has a splitting headache to the point he can’t move.

Stelle: Forget Dan Heng chewing you out, you are in massive trouble with me for hurting my husband. 

Bailu: =͟͟͞͞ =͟͟͞͞ ﾍ( ´Д`)ﾉ

Bailu: I’M SO SORRYYYYYY!!!

[lilmeowzsworld]

Fading Secrets

Chapter One

Cold Truth Revised

pairing: min yoongi x reader

summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar place with a man threatening your life for something your father did. But you know your father and you're certain he didn't do it. The man's son, Yoongi is the only one who shows you kindness and with his help, you decide to prove your father innocent.

content warnings: kidnapping, mention of death

a/n: Previously known as 'Cold Truth', this is the revised version. I hope it doesn't disappoint this time. Also I suck at summaries, so it is what it is lol

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When you opened your eyes, bright light enveloped your vision. Your head was killing you and there was an aftertaste of something funny smelling carved into your memory. You couldn't have drunk that much, could you? When your eyes adjusted to the outside world and you glanced around the surrounding area, your blood ran cold. While you believed that you weren't intoxicated enough to provoke anyone's anger at the club you were partying at with your friends the night before, the man currently sitting across from you was undoubtedly seething with anger.

The memories of the night before were hazy and like a puzzle, so you tried putting the pieces together to try and figure out how you were sitting in front of an unfamiliar man, seemingly in his mid-forties at least. You remember drinking with your friends, then informing them of your early departure back to your apartment. On your way back, someone had put a cloth with an old scent across your face until unconsciousness took over. And now, you woke up, with your hands bound behind the chair you were sat at, barefoot and in the dress from last night.

The silence was loud as the man stared at you, not even uttering a word. The chair you were sitting at was causing you discomfort, together with the headache that was already forming. The man's gaze bore into you, a disdainful expression etched on his face. You wondered if he looked at you with such disgust because of your appearance. You knew the dress was slightly shorter that you would have preferred usually, but it was your friend's birthday celebration and she insisted for you two to wear matching dresses, only in different color. The man staring at you in that moment wasn't the first one who was disgusted at the way younger generations were dressed today.

Maybe you would regret it, but you weren't the one to keep your mouth shut when you were nervous. „Okay, if no one is going to talk, I will, “ Your voice was hoarse so you had to take a second to clear your throat. „Who are you, and why am I here? It would be appreciated if you could untie me. I have no idea what you want from me and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to help you either no matter-"

A laugh echoed from somewhere behind you and you turned your head, looking over your shoulder to see a figure standing at the doorway. It was a boy your age, give or take a year or two. His hair was light and fell over his eyes. He wore a loose-fitting black T-shirt, complemented by faded blue jeans. A silver chain hung around his neck, and on his feet, he sported a pair of worn-in sneakers. He seemed quite laid-back and chill, for a guy who kidnapped you.

You could assume his voice was deep from the laugh you've heard, but you didn't have a chance to find out because the older man spoke. „Such a mouthful on an early morning,“ He laughed. „I'm Kim Taeyong, and that is my son, Yoongi,“ Shifting your head back as much as your body allowed, you caught another glimpse of the blonde boy. He leaned against a wall, arms folded across his chest and offered a subtle wave in acknowledgment. You rolled your eyes and redirected your attention back to his father. „You, sweetheart,“ Mr. Kim leaned forward, a luxury table presenting as the only barrier between you two. „Are here to pay for your father's mistake.“

It felt as if all the air was sucked out of your lungs at once, but you tried to control yourself and not show them that you were scared out of your mind. You had watched a lot of movies and it pays off for the main character to act confident. Maybe you would even be able to throw some punches and kicks like in the movies if you tried and then escape. But maybe you were being too confident even thinking of it. So, you opted to simply glare at the older man in front of you, despite the alcohol you consumed threatening to find its way back. „My father's mistake? What are you talking about? My father would never do anything wrong, he's innocent.“

Mr. Kim's eyes turned cold; it made you even more nervous. It was as if you could feel your body freezing just from his look. This was a dangerous man sitting in front of you. „Innocence is subjective, my dear. I'll enlighten you; I owe you that much. Your father ruined my life, destroyed the one thing I held dear the most. And now, I'll destroy everything he holds dear, starting with you.“

His words sent shivers down your spine and your lip quivered. Stay strong, Y/N! No matter how much you said those words to yourself, your mind decided not to listen. And you cursed whoever tied your hands behind your back, because you couldn't wipe away the tears that began falling from your eyes. Now they will know just how scared you were.

„You can't just blame someone else for your problems! Kidnapping me won't fix whatever issues you have with my father!“ You felt a surge of anger wash over you, and you were desperate. Although, if the movies thought you right, there was no compromising with people like Mr. Kim. „Just let me go, I won't tell anyone, I promise.“ You whined.

Mr. Kim leaned back in his chair. No matter what you said, his resolve was unyielding and the coldness in his eyes did not disappear. „Let you go? If only it were that simple,“ He stood, walking to your side of the table. Your body began shivering against your own will. Is he going to hurt you right now? To your relief, Mr. Kim sat on the edge of the table and stared down at you. „Your father must understand the consequences of his actions, and you're the perfect pawn in this little game.“

Your pleas for your life fell on deaf ears. The weight of the situation was suddenly too much to bear, it pressed down on you, cutting the air from your lungs. And silent tears still streamed down your face. You felt helpless, you were at mercy of a man thirsty for vengeance and there was nothing you could do to change his mind about hurting you.

What you didn't see, was the blonde boy, Yoongi, watching the conversation between you and his father with an unreadable expression. His father was ruthless, and Yoongi was the complete opposite, but he wouldn't go against his own father. As Mr. Kim spoke, Yoongi's eyes lingered on you, and for an instant, his facade cracked. He felt bad for you, especially since you were nothing but collateral damage in this whole situation. You were young and had your whole life ahead of you. You studied medicine and would become a doctor some day and save lives. And yet, here they were, about to take that away from you.

"Please," you begged, your voice breaking, "I don't want any part in whatever revenge you're seeking. I just want to go home. I won't say anything; I'll disappear, and you'll never have to see me again."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the only sound being your sniffles and the ominous ticking of a clock in the background. Mr. Kim finally spoke, his tone unwavering. "Disappearing won't bring back my dead wife. You're here to make sure your father understands that." Mr. Kim stood up again, and you flinched, thinking he would hurt you. But he walked past you, toward the door. „Yoongi, take our guest to a room for the night.“

Yoongi obeyed, approaching you. He untied your hands and the ropes fell away, allowing you a temporary feeling of relief. Yoongi didn't make eye contact with you as he grabbed you by your arm and led you out of the room. His touch was surprisingly gentle, which only confused you further. Shouldn't he be rough, pulling you by your hair or leading you on gunpoint? He led you through a corridor, down to another one with doors on each side. He opened the door on your right and ushered you inside.

The room you were brought to was surprisingly ordinary, contrast to the ominous atmosphere of the Kim manor. In one corner was a simple bed, neatly made and a small window with the curtains open, letting in rays of sunshine. On the other side, a work desk and a closet, made of fine wood with beautiful carved designs. Yoongi released your arm and turned to leave, but you stopped him before he could close the door.

„Please wait!“ To your surprise, he really did stop. However, he kept his back turned to you. „Can I, at least, have a change of clothes?“ He hesitated for a moment before he turned to you. He looked you up and down and the gesture made you want to crawl into a hole and never crawl back out.

„Fine,“ He mumbled and left, closing the door with a soft click, leaving you alone in the room. He didn't return for a few minutes and his absence made you question whether or not he was returning. You opted to sit on the bed and wait for his return, if he does. Lucky for you, the door opened again soon, and Yoongi returned with a bundle of clothes in his hands. He wordlessly tossed them onto the bed next to you. „There. Change and don't bother making a big deal. There is no one else in the house except for me right now,“ he said. Without waiting for your response, he turned to leave again, the door closing behind him. This time, you could hear the click of the lock, meaning that he locked you inside.

You sighed and decided to try and sleep off the hangover. Now that your life wasn't in any immediate danger, you were aware of the growing nausea and hoped that sleep would push it away. You put on the sweatpants and the dark, oversized t-shirt Yoongi had brought to you, with the addition of simple, black ankle socks. The clothing was for a male and it left you wondering who it belonged to. But you didn't want to tire your mind with questions like that for now. Covering your, previously freezing, body with the blanket, you fell asleep almost immediately. You needed to be in your best form if you were to escape anyway, so an hour or two of sleep wouldn't hurt.

[countrymusiclover]

43 - The Price of a Yellow Flower

Part 44

His Golden Princess

@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @dragonixfrye @lover-of-books-and-tea

Teleporting into the middle of the woods where I had sent Merida and Rumple I found him messing around with the end of my necklace in his bound hands with some rope. Peaking around one of the trees I met his gaze. “I know you’re there, Astrid. You aren’t very good at lurking in the shadows.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying too.” I walked out into the open tucking hair behind my ear walking over to him. “I told Merida to wait in the cave so that we could talk privately.”

He sat the necklace in his lap eyeing me up and down where I could see regret in the brown orbs. “Tell me about how this happened. You are the strongest person I know. So how did this happen to you?”

“I already told you why, it was to save your life.” Moving forward I sat down on the log beside him placing my hand on his knees making him actually look me in the eye for the first time. “But you are right that I haven’t told you everything about what happened while you were in the coma.”

He reaches over grasping my hand in his. “You can tell me anything, love. You know that will never change no matter who holds the darkness inside them. So if you have something to tell me you know you can.”

“I might not be the only one with dark magic in this town…” I trailed off hearing someone coming through the tree line where I created a fireball hollering out. “Show yourself now or pay the price!”

The figure appears from behind a set of trees where I saw my sister coming towards us lowering her handgun seeing that it was just the two of us. “Astrid..Gold, I don’t want to hurt you two.”

“I don’t have my power anymore, Ms. Swan.” He shrugged his shoulders, rising to his feet slowly behind me.

Lowering the fireball in my hand it disappeared in between my fingers eyeing my sister. We hadn’t spoken since I had brought everyone back from the missing time that they had in their memories. But she couldn’t know what I had done to her. “Em, how did you find us out here. I spelled this sight with my magic?”

“I don’t know, I just had one of my bad feelings about it. Astrid, is your nose supposed to be bleeding?” She asked, concerned stepping towards me.

Raising my hand under my nose I gasped feeling a tightness in my chest at the same time. My vision started to blur in front of me when I took a step towards my sister. “Rumple….” I collapsed into their arms when they both went to catch my limp body.

“Astrid!” Rumple cried out holding my face in one of his hands with my sister grabbing my forearm. The pair watched my eyes close before Rumple gasped entering your mind without thinking.

Opening my eyes I sat up slowing getting to my feet finding myself in the woods laying on a stone bench by myself. The wind blew part of my clothes where I saw that I was back in the dress I wore at my wedding reception. Alongside a fur cloak that was golden colored fur with my hair completely loose. I heard some twigs break behind me where I raised my hand. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

“It’s okay. It’s just me.” The person spoke belonging to a voice of a young girl with golden blonde hair and brown eyes that matched Rumple’s almost exactly.

The girl was wearing a black cloak over a white dress and some brown horse riding boots. She had her hair braided falling over her right shoulder looking at me when I was very confused. “Who exactly are you? I don’t recognize you from my time in the Enchanted forest.”

“I would hope you would know me. Considering we are looking to save my twin brother, Gideon.” The strange girl spoke to me, stepping closer to me.

Wrapping my arms around myself I made a face at her not putting the pieces together at what she telling me. I didn’t have my baby born yet. Even though my magic had spread up the pregnancy it was still a little while before the due date. “

“Father is inside trying to find him. But the Black Fairy has a strong hold over him.” The blonde girl dropped her hands at her sides slightly sounding like me and Emma. “And it’s like you always say. We do anything for the people we love. Do anything for our family.”

Knitting my brows at her I raised a hand keeping some distance from her not trusting who she was exactly and I had learned to not really trust anyone from Rumple. “Wait a minute. Father - I don’t know you. Now please tell me who you really are.”

“You’re clearly stressed over this mother. But I’m your daughter.” She intertwined my hands with hers making my heart skip a beat at her next words before I blacked out. “You named me Marigold. Marigold Ella Stilskin.”

Shooting awake suddenly my sister grabbed my shoulder where I grasped her forearms trying to catch my breath. Rumple held his head staring at me in shock when he sucked in a breath. “Astrid, what the hell just happened. That girl couldn’t possibly be….ours.”

“She called us her parents, Rumple ... .that isn’t something some random person calls someone else. She’s inside me.” Covering my stomach with my hands I sniff through tears. I couldn’t process that and think that I just might have spoken to my daughter for the first time.

My sister cleaned her throat entering our conversation placing her hand back on my shoulder making me start sobbing at her. “Ast, what happened to you. Why would you let the darkness take control of you? We said we would fix this and bring you back.”

“I’m so sorry, Em. I…I lied to you. To everyone because I was trying to protect my family. But there was a price and this was it.” Gripping her leather jacket in one hand I raised my other up to her forehead bringing her memories back to her. “You didn’t deserve me lying to you…especially by me.”

Everyone was inside Granny’s that had been brought to the forest. I raised the sword and dagger in the air until my sister gasped, bleeding from her hand that had a cut on it from a battle we had fought together before we freed Merlin from a magical tree. “It was Excalibur. But it was just a small cut. I healed it.” She covered her wound collapsing with Hook catching her body.

Merlin said to me. “I'm afraid it only seemed that way. Excalibur was forged to cut immortal ties. A wound from it cannot be healed.”

Mom gasped looking at him. “What? There has to be something we can do, that she can do.”

Merlin shook his head. “Even Astrid’s power isn't strong enough, nor is my own.”

“That’s a lie. I have seen Rumple do whatever it took to save the people he loved!” I snapped at the wizard beginning to cry heavily down at my sister.

She squeezed my hand weakly. “Ast, don’t give into the darkness anymore than you already have.”

“No. Please, no. Don't leave me. You have to stay. You have to stay.” I sniffed through tears grasping her freehand in mine. “You’re a fighter. You have to see my children…and be there for them when they grow up, Em.”

"Astrid…you can't give into the darkness." My sister coughs out.

Frantically looking back at the sword and dagger. "I'm not gonna let her die when I know there's a way to save her."

Regina steps towards us. "Astrid... Merlin said it. There's nothing you can do."

"That's what he said, but it's not true, is it? You told me how powerful I am. Let's use that power. I-I can use the Promethean Flame to release you from Excalibur, and then I can use it to tether my sister’s life to it instead. It could save her." I didn't care no matter what she was going to live.

Merlin trailed off. "Astrid, you know what that could do."

Regina put the pieces together. "Create another Dark One."

Merlin finished his thoughts. "It will multiply the darkness so that it cannot be destroyed. Not without you paying the steepest of prices. It will be your final step into the dark."

"Ast, no!" She whimpered up at me.

Brushing her hair away from her eyes I was still crying. "I don't care what happens to me."

Our father begged me. "Astrid, wait."

Mom attempted to say through tears grasping our fathers hand. "Please. Listen, you can't…..we'll find some other way."

Regina added on. "Astrid, your parents are right."

"If you could've saved Daniel or Robin... Look how far you were willing to go, how far you pushed me to save him! I'm not gonna lose her…not my sister. I won't let anyone stop me." Whipping my head around to her I grabbed the dagger and the sword hearing my sister's heart slowly dying, engulfing in a cloud of black smoke we were in the woods away from everyone else. "I'm not letting my sister die. I took the darkness to save Rumple’s life..now I'll save you with it."

"Astrid, you don’t have to save me like this." She shuttered grabbing part of my cloak in her hands.

Shaking my head I was still crying holding the sword in my hand and over her dying body. "Yes I do, Emma. We are family and I will do anything to protect the people I love." Placing the captured flame in my hands over the sword my dark magic swirling around it and my sister seconds before her body disappeared and Excalibur now read the name Emma Swan.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[kanisema-blog]

Mafia Nanny

Chapter 21: Unexpected Visitors

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the mansion, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the clock—midday, a time when unexpected visitors were a rarity. Curiosity piqued, I made my way to the front door, wondering who could be calling at this hour.

Opening the door revealed a man I didn't recognize immediately. He had a friendly smile and an easy demeanor. "Hello there," he greeted warmly. "I'm Simon Cartor. I'm a friend of Samuel's."

I nodded, returning his smile. "Nice to meet you, Simon. I'm Hannah," I introduced myself, shaking his hand.

Simon's eyes flickered with recognition. "Ah, yes, the nanny," he said with a nod. "Samuel mentioned you."

I felt a pang of curiosity and apprehension. Samuel hadn't spoken much about his friends from outside the circle of the underworld. "It's nice to meet you," I said politely.

Before I could say more, Wyatt came bounding into the foyer, his face lighting up when he saw Simon. "Uncle Simon!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around Simon's legs.

Simon laughed, ruffling Wyatt's hair affectionately. "Hey there, kiddo! How are you?"

"I'm great!" Wyatt replied excitedly. "Hannah, this is my uncle Simon. He's the best!"

"I can see that," I said with a smile, watching the easy bond between them.

Simon turned to me, a mischievous glint in his eye. "How about a water balloon fight?"

Wyatt's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, yes, can we, Hannah?"

I couldn't help but laugh at their enthusiasm. "Sure, why not? Let's do it!"

We headed out to the spacious backyard where buckets of water balloons awaited us. Wyatt eagerly grabbed a balloon, his excitement palpable. Simon and I exchanged a knowing glance before grabbing our own balloons. The sun beat down on us as we ran and laughed, the cool water splashing against our clothes and faces.

"Take that, Uncle Simon!" Wyatt shouted, launching a perfectly aimed balloon that burst against Simon's shoulder.

Simon retaliated, his laughter echoing across the yard as he chased Wyatt around the lawn. I joined in, dodging balloons and returning fire with equal enthusiasm. For a moment, the worries and complexities of our lives faded into the background, replaced by the simple joy of being in the moment.

As the afternoon wore on, our laughter filled the air, mingling with the sounds of summer. Wyatt squealed with delight, his laughter infectious. Simon and I exchanged playful banter, our competitive spirits fueling the friendly battle.

Eventually, we collapsed on the grass, breathless and soaked, our clothes clinging to our skin. Wyatt lay between us, his chest rising and falling with each excited breath.

"I haven't had this much fun in ages," Simon admitted, a wide grin on his face.

"Me neither," I agreed, wiping water from my face.

Wyatt sat up suddenly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we do this again, Hannah? Please?"

"Absolutely," I said, smiling at him. "We can make it a regular thing."

Simon nodded in agreement. "Count me in. It's good to let loose once in a while."

As we headed back inside to dry off, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for these unexpected moments of joy. In the midst of our complicated lives, filled with danger and uncertainty, there was still room for laughter and connection. And as I watched Wyatt and Simon continue their playful banter, I knew that despite the challenges that lay ahead, we would face them together, drawing strength from the bonds of friendship and the love that had brought us to this moment.

With each passing day, our journey continued, weaving together the threads of our lives into a tapestry of hope and resilience. And as I tucked Wyatt into bed that night, his eyes heavy with sleep, I whispered a silent promise to cherish these moments, these fleeting glimpses of happiness that illuminated the shadows of our past and lit the path forward into an uncertain future.

[evewritingsteve]

wrong place, wrong time

jesse pinkman x reader warnings: kidnapping, normal breaking bad stuff

summary: You are Lydia's daughter, and just so happen to be kidnapped by Mike. Takes place in the episode before they do the train heist

note: not my best but i needed to get this concept out of my head, enjoy xx

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“Well Lydia, we’ve got the kid so I suggest you come out of hiding and talk this out like the adults we are. You got 4 hours to get over here or little miss y/n gets to meet an unpleasant end. Your choice.” You hear the man hang up the phone, sighing a little. “Well y/n, let’s hope your mother has a little empathy for her secret daughter.” 

You’d reply, and say you weren’t really a secret, just the result of a teen pregnancy, but the gag in your mouth unfortunately stifled any smart remarks. Maybe it was for the best, you didn’t have the best danger meter. Opening your mouth would probably get you hurt. 

But you weren’t hurt, surprisingly, despite the circumstances. Being kidnapped automatically brought your brain to violence, but so far, they hadn’t been overly rough. Certainly not nice, but no harm had been done. You thanked whoever was listening for that. You were hoping this was all for ransom, that your mom would pay, you’d walk out of this fine, and this whole thing would be a terrific story to take back to graduate school. 

Hopefully. 

You were bound to a chair, rope chafing your arms and legs. You wiggled again, hoping for some give. From what you gathered about the kidnappers, they were old as shit. One sounded too anxious and the other just sounded annoyed. At first you had been terrified, but as the adrenaline wore off you felt yourself growing more annoyed than anything. 

You’d been in the chair for hours, and the phone call the first man made was one of the first times you had heard them speak in hours. You were bored. You’d think being kidnapped would be more action and less anxious waiting. Not that you were complaining. 

You hear a door open and steps making their way closer. 

“Yo who the fuck is this?” A younger male voice cuts through the silence. 

Another one? Jesus. 

“Change of plans,” the annoyed older man speaks and you desperately try to see through the cloth covering your eyes. “Can’t find Lydia but her daughter was there so now here we are.” 

“Her daughter? What yo we’re fucking kidnapping random people now?” 

“Jessie!” The anxious one yells and the room goes silent. 

“Both of you, outside, now.” 

So the younger one was Jessie. You definitely weren’t supposed to know that. You hear them leave and somehow the silence is scarier now than when they were in the room. You close your eyes. God mom, you better have a ransom money stash. 

-

“What the hell was that? Saying Jessie’s name? You’re going to get us caught Walter!” Mike jabs his finger into Walt’s chest, fuming. 

“I didn’t ask to kidnap an innocent college student Mike! This- this is insane! What are we doing?” 

“Yeah what are we doing?” Jessie throws his hands up, still clueless. 

“Lydia planted that tracker on the methylamine. When I went to her house to have a little talk Lydia was gone. She knew I was onto her and decided to run, but her daughter just so happened to be there. I’ve dealt with Lydia before. She’s skittish. So we take her daughter to get her to come talk to us so we can put an end to this ordeal.” 

“So what, this chick is our hostage now or what?” 

“Yes Jesse. As soon as Lydia gets here we’ll cut her loose and deal with the real problem. The kid is just collateral that we have to deal with now. As long as she doesn’t see our faces this doesn’t have to end with anybody’s death but Lydia’s. Capisce?” 

“Fuck. Alright I guess.” Jessie puts his hands on his head, following Mike when he gestures for them to go back in. 

When they open the door, they all stop. Lydia was already there, undoing the last rope holding you to the chair. You both stop and look up when you hear the door, slightly panicked. 

So much for the blind. 

“Mike what the hell? My daughter?” Lydia stands, helping you do the same. Your eyes are wide as you scan the 3 men’s faces, growing more confused by the minute. Your mom knew these people? What the fuck is she involved with? 

The one that you’re going to assume is Mike, makes his way over to your mom, grabbing her arm and throwing her on to the chair you were previously occupying, dragging her and the chair to a nearby table. You jump out of the way, Mike ignoring your mom’s protests, pulling out handcuffs and locking her to the table. 

“You,” He points at you, grabbing the gun on his waistband, “Stand next to her and don’t move or I swear it’ll be your last.” 

You make your way over, giving your mom a questioning and slightly terrified look. 

“Jesus Lydia you just had to make this harder on me.” 

“Mike we can talk this out but let my daughter go. I didn’t plant that tracker, I swear to God, she knows nothing of this just please, let her leave.” 

“Mom-” 

“She’s seen our faces, Mike, we can’t just let her go with that information!” The other older man speaks up. The younger one puts his head in his hands. It seemed clear to you that he was dragged into this, and for some reason that put you at ease a bit. They all begin to argue with each other, and you glance at your mom again. 

“She’ll get on a plane right now.” 

They all pause. 

“She’s doing graduate school abroad, she can get on a plane right now and be out of the country in a few hours. Please Mike, she barely knows anything right now, definitely not enough to put you guys away. Just, please Mike.” 

“Mom I can’t leave yo-” 

“Shut up Lydia.” Mike thinks for a while. He didn’t want to kill you. He saw his granddaughter in you and knows he would never forgive himself if he had to kill you to save himself. It was risky, but something told him you really wouldn’t say anything. 

“Alright Lydia. We’ll take her to the airport. But you need to understand one thing,” he turns to you, “I have people everywhere y/n. The second you open your mouth, I’ll know. And then it’s game over for you and everyone you love.” 

You think of your little sister and suddenly realize you’re going to have to take this to the grave. Not that you even knew the entire story, it felt like you walked into the middle of a show and missed all the important parts. But still. Silence was the only answer. 

You simply nod your head in response. 

“Jessie, I would like you to take this young lady to the airport, buy yourself a ticket so you can wait at the gate with her and make sure she gets on the plane. Come back here after. Lydia, you’re gonna make a little call for us.” Mike tosses Jessie the keys, along with a pair of handcuffs. 

“Are these for her?” He gestures to the handcuffs and then to me. If it weren’t for the situation at hand, you might have blushed. 

Mike gives him a look and Jessie almost rolls his eyes. “Alright man shit.” 

He makes his way over to you, mumbling an apology that confuses you even more. It seemed like Mike was the only serious one here, the other two almost acted like they were hostages too. You feel the handcuffs tighten, and you give your mom a final glance. 

“Mom?” 

“It’ll be okay I’ll call okay?” A pit sits in your stomach at the expression on her face, so you try to give her a small smile, not trusting your voice. You really hope she didn’t get herself into something she can’t control. Jessie gives you a small nudge and you can’t fight the tears that fill your eyes. 

-

Once you’re in the car, Jesse says something about the handcuffs looking suspicious and takes them off. You grab at your wrists and flinch as the car is locked from the inside. At this point reality was setting in hard. Now that your safety seemed more or less intact, you were nauseous over the thought of your mom still down there for God knows what. 

The car starts moving and your breathing becomes shallow. Jesse takes notice and steals a glance at you. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright okay?” It didn’t even sound like he believed his own words. 

“What the fuck.” Is all you can reply. “What the actual fuck?” You laugh a little, about to go into hysterics over the entire thing. 

Jessie looks at you, even more concerned. He had been through some shit and the only time he laughed was when he was really about to lose it. You're trying to control your breathing, and he feels bad, but he can’t help but notice how pretty you are. He can’t believe that you somehow got wrapped into this. It didn’t seem right. He feels horrible. 

At this point you're no longer laughing, just sniffling and trying to stop yourself from sobbing. 

“What are they going to do to my mom?” You look at Jessie. You were never close with your mom, she was distant and cold but always provided for you. She was your mom at the end of the day. Despite being in boarding schools most of your childhood, she was always there when you came home to visit. She couldn’t just be taken from you like that. “What about my sister? What will she do?” 

“You have a sister?” He sounds surprised. You faintly wonder if you should just shut your mouth, and not volunteer anymore information, but some part of you feels like Jessie isn’t going to use this information maliciously. Still, you don’t respond. 

“Listen, I promise nothing will happen to your mom.” 

“How can you possibly promise that?” 

He goes silent and you realize that he probably can’t make that promise. 

The rest of the car ride is silent and you spend some of it observing him. He seems almost shy, despite the rough exterior and style he possesses. For a split second, you wonder if, in different circumstances, you two would have crossed paths and been friends. Maybe flirted. The reasonable part of your brain stomps that out, and politely reminds you that he was somehow involved in your kidnapping. 

The car rolls to a stop at the drop off spot. Once again, you’re confused. 

“Don’t you have to come in with me? You can’t park here.” 

He looks at you, slightly startled. He half expected you to jump out of the car and run to the nearest security guard. He spent half the ride preparing for his life to be over because of the pretty daughter of a criminal. “Oh, uh, I guess I didn’t think of that.” 

You stare at him for a beat. 

“I won’t run to tell anyone. Honestly getting out of America as soon as I can sounds nice right now for what it’s worth.” 

He turns in the driver's seat, fully looking at you for the first time. 

“I know.” 

“You believe me?” 

“I’m a shit kidnapper huh?” 

Despite the situation, you find yourself laughing a little. 

“Sort of.” 

You both sit for a minute until he raises a hand to scratch his head sheepishly. “Look uh, you can just go. I think it’ll be weird if I buy a ticket and don’t get on the plane.” 

You looked at him, shocked that he was actually agreeing to let you go.

“Oh, okay,” you go to open the door, pausing to look at him one last time. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a real bad guy. It just seems like you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.” You give him a small smile, leaving without waiting for a response. 

You run across the street, nearly missing an impatient car. You feel like you’re on autopilot as you step through the automatic doors, trying to find the nearest help desk to book a flight. Your brain was in override, trying to make sense of everything that happened. You only hoped that once you landed, your mom would answer the phone and everything would be okay. 

You almost gave in when you saw a security personnel walking by, but thought of Jessie. You couldn’t explain it, but you knew going to the authorities would somehow cause more harm than good. You only hoped that Jessie’s sincerity was real. 

-

Jessie watched as you ran to the doors, seeming more dazed than scared like he imagined you should be. He didn’t understand your final words to him, he was implicated in your fucking kidnapping for fucks sake. But there you were, saying that he wasn’t a bad guy. A car honked behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. He put the car in gear, making his way back to the shitshow he really didn’t want a part of. 

He picks his phone up when he hears the familiar ringtone. 

“Yo.” 

“Jessie, is she gone?” 

“Yeah, we’re good. What’s going on?” 

“We have to rob a train.” 

Oh fuck. 

-

reblog, like, tell your momma (aka me)

[touyasdoll]

Okay, but why the heck do people think that Izu would be a sub!????? Like dude!???? If anything, I can guarantee you that he can and WILL Detroit smash your pussy. And I BET that he has fucking many kinks and just imagining the riding his thigh is gjghjftujkouhmll mmmmmmmmmmm like gimme moreeeee, and I think he is a big TEASE like he will tease you until you are a mess and only then when you are whispering for him, is when he will touch you and also, he would knowingly go as slow as he can to tease you, like no getting faster and slowly thrusting in and out.

AHHH YES! Anon, I whole-heartedly agree with you. I’m convinced that sweet, innocent ‘Zuku is actually a fucking terror in bed & that’s a hill that I’ll die on 💚

NSFW, Minors DNI

A Break

Pairing: Izuku x reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: smut, nsfw, minors dni, orgasm control, teasing, bdsm dynamics, thigh-riding, praise, daddy kink, unprotected sex

“Hey, baby,” Izuku smiled as you breezed through the door to his office. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“I remembered you said that you’d have to stay late tonight,” you strolled up beside him at his desk, where he was hunched over various files and loose sheets of paper, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “So I just thought that maybe I’d come and join you for dinner here. Figured we could order something in and you could take a little break.” You leaned down, kissing him sweetly. “You look pretty exhausted, hon.”

He sighed, leaning back in his office chair as he looked you over with a tired smile, “I am, a little bit.” He swiveled in his chair, sitting upright and reaching out to place his large hands behind your thighs, guiding you closer to him. “A break does sounds nice..”

"For dinner," you placed your other hand on his opposite shoulder, quirking an eyebrow when his hands began to traverse up the back of your thighs, creeping beneath the hem of your dress. "What're you hungry for?"

He chuckled, a deep and sensuous rumble in his chest that sent a shiver up your spine. His hands cupped just below your ass, suddenly yanking you toward him, throwing you off your balance until you came to rest securely on his thigh.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear as he took one cheek in each hand, squeezing as he pulled your hips towards him, guiding you into grinding against his thigh, "I'm absolutely starving for a taste of you right now, baby."

"'Zuku," you sigh, taking your lip between your teeth.

"Ah, you know that's not my name, babygirl," his breath fanned over your cheek just before his lips pressed to your jawline, "but I'm willing to overlook it if you'll be a good girl and grind that pretty little pussy on me."

"Yes, Daddy," you mewled, happily doing as you were told.

You never could resist him for long and this was exactly why. The pleasure. That addictive sensation building between your thighs, spurred on by the delicious friction of your clothed cunt rocking against his flexed, muscular thigh.

He sat back and let you roll your hips to your heart's content, allowing you to chase your ultimate high while he cooed words of praise.

"Look at my good girl."

"Behaving so well for Daddy."

"You look so pretty when you're about to cum, baby."

But then came the pain. The pain of disappointment as he stilled your hips, stopping you just short of where you so desperately wanted to be. The peak that he never let you fully ascend on the first try.

You whined, tossing your head back as your fingers clenched around his shoulders.

"Something wrong, darling?" His voice was deceptively sweet, a sadistic habit of his by your standards.

He knew full well what was wrong, as he always did each time you did this song and dance. One that you knew nearly every routine too, but yet it never bored you. You never grew tired of going through each motion, eagerly bounding towards the next, because for all the suffering his tortuous teasing brought you, it always brought you far more pleasure in the end.

"Need you, Daddy," you whined, running a hand over his pecs, pleading with watering eyes. "Please, wanna cum. Need to."

"Need to?" His eyebrows jumped, his smile as gentle as ever. "I don't know about that, sweetheart." He placed his hands beneath your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto his desk, standing between your parted legs. "I'll tell you what though," you watched as he dragged a finger up your torso, between your breasts, "I do feel like making you cum on my cock tonight. So, I'll make you a deal." His finger curled under your chin, bidding you to look up at him and you could see his green eyes glinting with devious intention. "No more whining."

You frowned, but he only smirked in reply.

"No whining," he repeated, a smug smile on his face as he retracted his hand to work himself out of his hero costume, peeling it down to reveal his scarred torso.

His hardened cock sprang free as the fabric dipped below his hips, taking the boxers he wore with it as your eyes ogled the beads of precum seeping from his tip.

You had to remind yourself not to whimper as your mouth fell open, his eyes regarding you expectantly, as if he knew you were about to fail the very first trial.

"I promise, Daddy," you spread your legs further, leaning back on your elbows as he stepped closer to you. "No more.”

Your chest heaved in anticipation, your breath hitching in your throat as he leaned over you, capturing your lips and letting out a low groan as his cock rubbed against your soaking panties.

“That’s my good girl,” he growled, two fingers hooking into your panties to tug them aside, allowing his throbbing tip to slip between your folds, but only barely.

You cried out, moaning as your eyes trained on his thick cock, slowly pushing into you. For a moment, you thought maybe he might actually sink all of himself inside, but he withheld.

He drew his hips back, dragging the bulbous head of his cock back along your walls as it came out of you with a sinfully wet noise.

You screwed your lips shut, closing your eyes as you willed yourself to remain quiet. To withhold the needy words piling up in your throat.

“You like that, babygirl?” Two hands skimmed along your sides, taking your dress up and over your breasts as you felt the familiar stretch between your thighs once more.

His hips thrust forward unexpectedly as his massive hands pulled down the cups of your bra to palm your breasts, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Love it, Daddy,” you whispered, your voice soft and quiet as you balled your hands into fists, squirming beneath him.

He gazed down at you, one corner of his lips pitched up in a crooked grin as he raked his eyes over your exposed frame, “You can still tell me how much you want it,” he pushed in a little deeper, stopping at about the halfway point. “I just don’t wanna hear you complain about me taking my time with you. It feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

He began thrusting at a slow, steady pace, never fully sheathing himself inside you. Slow and shallow was all that you he offered you, but it was enough to have you babbling anyway.

“F-feels so good,” you cooed, eyes locked with his as your mouth fell open, ushering moan after moan past your lips.

“You want more?” He slid his hands behind your back, pulling you closer so he could hold you in his arms as his lips moved against yours, drowning out your sinful noises with his heated kiss.

“Always,” you spoke breathlessly between kisses, “Always want more of you, Daddy.”

He groaned, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. As much as he loved to draw out these moments with you, he was quickly losing his resolve.

Each gasping breath. Every contraction of your walls around the head of his dick. The way you were looking at him, so obedient despite how desperately you clearly wanted more.

He wanted to give it to you, to really give it to you.

“Oh, fuck,” you threw your head back, arms encircling his neck as the pressure in your belly began to build in earnest. “Daddy, I-I think I’m gonna cum.”

The broken sob that heaved from your chest was the last straw.

Calloused hands seized your hips, digging in to your supple skin as he finally thrust all of his length inside you.

“Did Daddy say you could cum yet?” He held himself there, fighting the feral need to impale you until you were screaming his name. The tears pricking your eyes only made it that much harder to hang on.

“No,” you sighed, clenching your eyes shut, aiding a single tear in its descent over your cheek.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, baby,” he wiped the tear away, cupping your face with both hands now as he pulled his hips back at a glacial pace, until he’d completely removed himself from your core.

His mouth hovered just over yours, catching every shaky breath you expelled and the moans that accompanied them. He could still feel you clenching around nothing as he rutted his length between your folds. It had him nearly fit to burst, seeing how needy you were, how badly you wanted to suck him back into you.

For a moment, he contemplated just finishing himself off there. Splattering your pretty tits with his cum and watching it drip down your torso, into that sweet cunt of yours for him to lick clean.

But instead, he tucked that idea away. He’d come back to it when he was feeling a little more patient, because all he wanted right now was to barrage your cervix until your pussy milked him dry.

In one fluid motion, he lined his cock up with your dripping hole and snapped into you, immediately setting a relentless pace.

You could feel the smirk on his lips as you cried out against them, grasping onto him for dear life as you keened louder and louder, hoping the outpouring of cries would lessen the need to come undone.

“Cum for me,” he growled, finally taking mercy as he captured your lips in a proper kiss, his hands dropping away from your face to come to rest on your lower back as he felt his release fast approaching.

He swallowed the strangled moan you let out as you finally let go, pulling away only to hear your wanton cries as tears streamed over your cheeks. Your fucked out face almost giving him a greater sense of satisfaction than the way your walls spasmed around him as he painted them white with his hot, thick ropes of cum.

“Thank you, baby,” he smiled softly, resting his forehead against yours as you both floated back down, collecting your breath. “I needed that.”

“Mm, anytime, love,” you laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “But now you definitely owe me dinner.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

New Duties

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, cheating, fuck machine, toys, tied up.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bucky’s wife is never around as much as the maid.

Based on these drabble requests:

Bucky Barnes + “If you think I feel bad for you, you’re more pathetic than I thought.” + Maid AU + Bucky is rich and married too, but his wife is never in the house so he decide have fun with the naive maid. 

Bucky Barnes + “You really think this is over?” + Fuck machine + honestly just the reader being tied up and left with a fuck machine and some overstimulation.

Both requested by anons.

The large house was often empty when you went there. You had a key on a tag and the alarm code written on it. You showed up in your black pants and matching shirt and let yourself in as you always did. You tied on your apron and looked around as you went over the work in your head. 

It was hard not to be envious of the grandiose abode. Hard not to feel bitter at all the money spent on the place and yet it seemed the resident never enjoyed it. They hired a maid, you, to clean the table they never ate at and make the bed which was the only lived-in part of the place.

You started on the lower floor as usual. Living room, dining room, kitchen, the office, the foyer, and the parlor dedicated to a carved pool table and shelves of expensive sculptures. You climbed the stairs and set off down the hall of unused rooms. There wasn’t much more to do than dust and check that the sheets didn’t smell musty.

As you approached the master bedroom, you stopped short as the door opened and you were met by one of the elusive owners of the mansion. You saw Bucky Barnes more than his wife but your run-ins were still rare. And you’d never seen him like this. You were embarrassed and off-centre as you were surprised to find him there.

He wore only a pair of silky pajama bottoms and his hair was amess, sticking out at all angles. His muscles moved under his skin as he rubbed his eyes and smiled at you. His voice was thick with drowsiness and he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he said, “thought I heard someone.”

“I didn’t know you were here, sir,” you glanced around. It was late for him to be sleeping still.

“I took the red-eye home,” he shrugged, “don’t worry about me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you chuckled nervously, “I can come back when--”

“You sure?” he batted away the last of his tiredness with his lashes and leaned on the doorframe, “you almost jumped out of your shoes.”

“Uh, yeah,” you assured him and started to turn back.

“It’s fine, I’m up now,” he stopped you, “I’m gonna have a coffee…” he caught up to you and brushed by you, facing you as he blocked your path, “bedroom is all yours.”

You fidgeted as his eyes flicked away from your face for just and instant but you didn’t think much of it as the apron hid made your figure lumpy and vague. You nodded and gave another yes, sir. He watched you until you spun back and headed for the bedroom. You felt his gaze until you slipped inside and let out your breath at the rumpled blankets. 

You heard him descend the stairs and set down your bucket of supplies. You went to the bed and fixed his side of it. You could smell his sweat on the sheets still. Then you began to wipe down the edges of the tables and inspected for any inch of imperfection.

“Looks good in here,” his voice spooked you again. Bucky stepped inside and set his tall coffee mug on the polished table beside the door. “I’m glad I caught you, I did have a special request.”

“Oh?” you stilled the cloth and twisted it in your grip. You watched his metal arm as he he rubbed his middle finger with his thumb.

“Here,” he crossed the room and waved you over, “it’s a bit of a secret but… I haven’t had the time to take care of it myself.”

You watched as he went to the bookshelf on the far wall and he reached behind the gilded globe. He spun it slightly but you could see what exactly he was doing. There was a shift and the shelf lurched forward. He carefully pushed it over until the edge met the corner and a small doorway appeared.

Your eyes rounded in confusion and he chuckled as he looked over his shoulder, “our little secret,” he said, “I figured since you’re here…”

“I… yes, sir,” you neared as he waited, his hand on the shelf, and as you stepped by him, he quickly followed, so close you could feel his body heat.

You stopped short as he flipped on the light. A red haze cast over the hidden room. You were shocked, almost laughing in disbelief as your brain spun to process what you were seeing; leather cuffs hung from the wall on one side and a leather bench sat center with similar bounds, there was even a sex swing dangling from the ceiling. You never expected that but really, you tried not to think about your clients intimate habits.

The shelf shifted behind you and the room grew dimmer, only the scarlet shadows of the tinted bulb remained. You turned back to Bucky.

“My stuff,” you pointed to the wall behind him. There was no visible mechanism and that made you nervous.

“Oh, well, you see, I haven’t had a chance to use any of this,” he shrugged and stepped closer. You inch backwards and dropped the cloth as his hands settled on your upper arms, “Ilona’s never here, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Mr. Barnes,” you winced as his vibranium hand squeezed, “I should get back to my--”

“The house is spotless. I only pay you because my wife can’t be bothered to lift a finger herself or even be around,” he said.

“Please, I should go,” you gulped, “I think you, uh, you…”

“Fine, go,” he moved out of your way and smirked at the wall, “if you want to, go.”

You looked between him and the smooth wall. You neared it and shoved on it. It didn’t move. You felt all along it, searching for anything that might trigger a response. There was nothing there.

“Can you--” you began to ask but stopped as he pressed himself to your back.

He tugged at the knot of your apron and it fell loose. His hands crawled up your back and he lifted the strap over your head. He grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him.

“Thought you were going,” he taunted.

“Let me out,” you tremored.

“I said go, so…” he gestured to the wall.

“I can’t--”

He snickered and pulled you with him as he walked backwards. “It’s just a little fun,” he purred, “for both of us.”

“No, I-- you’re married--”

“My wife, if you can call her that, hasn’t touched me in a year, probably more,” he pulled at the hem of your shirt, “so this is as much her decision as mine.”

“No, Mr. Barnes, I--”

“Listen,” he grabbed your jaw and loomed over you, “you can be a good little maid and do what you’re told or I can report you to the agency for stealing.”

“What, I never--”

“Maybe a few of Ilona’s necklaces go missing or a few bills out of my wallet,” he growled, “we’ll see who they believe.”

“Please--”

“It’s time you start earning that tip,” he turned and thrust you towards the low bench, “now get undressed and lay down on your stomach.”

“Mr--”

“I have a gag. I have several if you want to choose,” he warned, “even if I’d rather hear that sweet voice calling my name.”

“Why are you--”

“I won’t tell you again,” he barked as he crossed his arms and paced. 

You noticed how the front of his pants tented and you slowly neared the bench. It was all so jarring, you didn’t know what else to do but obey. You couldn’t leave and you were certain if you tried, he would lose all patience. You peeked over as his metal fist tightened and a chill went through you.

You pulled off your shirt and kept your eyes down. You rolled down your pants and took your time untying your sneakers. You hesitated to strip off your underwear but a gristly breath made you wince and you added them to the pile of clothes. 

You were cold but your flesh burned as you sensed his close attention to your every move. You got down on the bench, the leather icy against your chest, and stared at the floor. Bucky walked around behind you and framed your ass with his hands as he stood over you. He pushed your thighs apart until your legs bent over the side of the bench and the cool air tickled your cunt.

“Hmmm,” he mused as he flicked his finger along your folds, “I can’t decide what I want first.”

An overwhelming wave of panic shook you and you tried to push yourself up. His hand slapped down on the middle of your back and he held you down. He tutted and reached down to slip your wrist into a leather cuff and tightened it until you whined. He ignored your struggles as he did the same to your other arm and your ankles. You straddled the bench as he pushed himself up and groped your ass again.

“Why are you making this hard?” he asked, “you’re already spread for me.”

“Please…”

He sighed and you heard his bare feet on the floor as he marched away from you. He came back around you and knelt to force the ball gag into your mouth and buckled it behind your head. Your eyes glistened as you watched him desperately and breathed heavy through your nose.

“We have a lot to do,” he touched your chin, “you need the proper training.”

You tried to talk past the gag but it only came out as muffled gibberish and your saliva soaked the gag. 

“If you think I feel bad for you, you’re more pathetic than I thought,” he chuckled and stood, rubbing the front of his pants, “guess you’ll have to wait for it.”

He left your eye line again, even as you craned your neck around. He was quick to huff and stomp back to your. He took the collar that hung from the front of the bench and secured it around your neck so you could stare at your impossible escape.

You heard something rolling behind you and metal fasteners being loosened then tightened. His fingers scared you as he touched your cunt and felt around for your clit. He teased you until you tilted your pelvis in response. You moaned around the gag as your thighs quivered. Despite your fear, it felt wonderful.

He played with you until you were wet and then you heard the same wheels. You felt a prod at your entrance, a hard silicone tip slowly slid into you until you were full. You gasped and choked as he pulled away his hand entirely. You heard a soft click then a whir and the dildo began to move, your cunt sucking at it loudly as you grew wet around it. He reached under you and a new buzz began as he placed a vibrator against your bud.

He rounded you again, his pants were gone and his hand glied up and down his dick. He watched you with fiery eyes as you tried to hold back. The flames licked from your core and crawled along your thighs and back. You shuddered and your eyes rolled back as your voice droned sloppily as the gag made you drool.

You came in defeat and hung your head. You gasped and gulped for air and your entire body tensed and released, but he didn’t stop it. The vibe kept buzzing on your clit and he only turned the machine up so that it fucked you harder and faster. You wined and rolled your head back and forth.

Another orgasm strangled you and your muscles ached from the tension as it snapped again. You lost count as the red light glared through your eyelids and a sheen of sweat coated your body. Breathless and battered, you could only twitched as you were rocked by climax after climax.

And then it all stopped. The machine shut off and the dildo was slid out of you, your thighs sticky and sore. The vibrator stilled and slipped from under you and you groaned. There was a moment of peace as your heart slowed and then a slap across your ass made you yipe.

“You really think this is over?” Bucky asked as he got behind you and bent over you. His tip pressed against your entrance and his hot breath bristled against your scalp, “I’ve only just begun.”

🧹🧹🧹

Please reblog and leave some feedback if you enjoyed.

[saturnsstufff]

Hi Saturn!

I HAD AN IDEA!!!!!

I was watching Foolish’s interaction with the Eggheads. Maybe you could do a fic based on that interaction. Like y/n helps Foolish and Sam find tnt then when the Eggpire guys show up, Foolish would tell Y/n to hide a safe distance. Or the egg boys trying to use y/n to scare Foolish into joining the egg and foolish going full angry megaladon totem god. Also post protect/rescue wholesomeness and cuddles maybe? ☺️

I think Foolish is cool.

~🐈‍⬛

*happi happi sat dancy* big bad handsome god make brain go brrr

Warnings: swearing

Foolish- Goddess

   Well building you don't exactly expect to see much. As you know its mostly just placing what you need and then leaving. So in the middle of you building, it was easy to say you were shocked to see TNT. But sure enough with gentle hands you took the small dynamite sticks into your hands. You knew foolish wasn't the one to play around with TNT, especially around his sacred temple. You set the sticks down and looked around more, wanting to make sure none were lit or close to being lit. when you rounded the corner you were speechless. barrels upon barrels were filled with TNT. whoever put it here had full intentions to blow this place sky high.

   “F...Foolish...” You went to turn, try and run to find your lover. Tell him about the danger that lurked below his craft. Yet to your dismay that wasn't what happened. Instead you turned and smacked your head into a Netherite chest plate. the impact was enough to knock you off your feet, causing you to look up to who wore the armor. Bad.

   “well hello there” bad said, his head turning to face you. You couldn't see his face, only his white eyes seemly glowing down at you. you tried to shuffle away, not wanting to stay near the demon man. You don't know much about bad and company, but foolish told you steer clear of them and anyone associated with the Eggpire. so when you literally ran into them you were more than unnerved. You tried to Scurry up and away, yet Bad grabbed your arm and pulled you back against him. “Where do you think your running to, little one?” well you struggle to get away, Bad simply adjusted his arms into a choke hold. Intending to try and put you to sleep so you couldn't cry out for foolish.

   When Foolish went looking for you he was more than worried. No matter where he checked he couldn't find you. In the end he went for where you said you would be. When he found the remints of your work and the discarded TNT it was fair to say the gentle god was beyond pissed. With no trace of where you went he didn't know where to start. Luckily he didn't have to look far, when he stepped out of his temple he saw Sam running up to him. Asking if he has seen Hannah, Foolish declined. explaining that similarly he cannot find you. When the two boys turned to head for the portal they were disgusted by the sight. 

   Within Ponk’s arms was you, sword held to your neck as a deadly threat. It wasn't hard to see that you were a bit out of whatever was happening. Your eyes were droopy and were having a hard time focusing, they had even put a fabric around your mouth to keep you quiet. Your wrists were bound together, assuring you wouldn't be able to fight back. Not that you really could with your state.

   “Foolish I have a new proposition if your finally willing to listen!” Ponk said, his voice carrying across the desert land. Foolish couldn't help how his jaw locked. Using you as leverage was just absolutely crossing the line.

   “I suggest you let her go, Ponk.” Foolish’s kind demeanor was replaced with ice. He wasn't going to play around anymore. “You can blow my temple up... But if you dare lay a finger on her you will severely regret it...” At Foolish’s words you let your head roll. Trying to find where your lover was. Wishing nothing more than to curl up into his side and fall asleep.

   Ponk simply laughed at Foolish’s words, assuming the god was simply bluffing. “You cant do anything Foolish. Your just a simple man with no leverage!” Ponk paused briefly well his eyes locked with Foolish’s. “If you join the Eggpire no one has to get hurt. We’ll let her go. you’ll be happy, my brothers and I can promise you that.” 

   “I’m a peaceful man Ponk. Let her go and I’ll spare you...” Foolish’s calm tone was terrifying, he never rose his voice and yelled. He always choose to play it quiet.

   “You see, I cant do that. You either join us, or I’ll kill her.” Ponk stated flatly. At his words your blood ran cold, looking up at the man who held you. You couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not, but your eyes flashed to Foolish and Sam. pleading for one of them to save you at least.

   “One” Foolish said curtly. His eyes were flickering green, showing his patients was fleeting, soon he would morph into God mode.

   “You don't scare us Foolish.” Ponk said, slightly adjusting his footing. Showing he was slightly unnerved.

   “Two.” Foolish’s size was now growing. his skin hardening into pure gold. His anger was coming out, and god help anyone who stood in his way.

   “Were warning you Foolish...” Bad said carefully. Drawing his trident, drawing it back to throw.

   “My friends...”  Foolish stated. Bad attempted to throw his Trident at the God. A final attempt of beating the God. But it simply wasn't enough. Foolish merely held his hand out an snapped the trident within his hand like it was a small stick. 

   “You have made a grave mistake...”

   When you woke back up you were within Foolish’s arms. His hand gently rubbing your cheek as he laid out on the shared bed. The cool breeze blew through the Temple causing you to shift into your lovers side. Checking to see if you were ok, he looked down to you. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and glanced around. you couldn't recall what happened, all you could remember was Foolish growing in height before everything went black.

   “Good morning my goddess...” Foolish’s tone was gentle and loving, concern lacing through his words. your hand gently felt for his clothing, but instead found his bare chest. 

   “Wh... where... What...” you mumbled, trying to figure out where to start. He hummed and rubbed your back gently, a silent show that there was no hurry in finding your words. “What happened?...” you asked carefully, gently tightening your hold around his waist.

   He pressed his lips as he thought on his answer. Unsure of how he wanted to explain it, or even if he wanted to elaborate on it. “A new enemy of mine decided to test my boundaries...” he paused as he thought. “In the end they over stepped and paid heavily for it...” You nodded slowly as you hugged to him. His calm nature offering you peace. 

   The silence lingered for a bit until he spoke up again. “Do you feel ok?” he asked softly. You thought a moment and nodded. 

   “I feel... Different… But I'm ok” you said softly. He nodded and thought back to the moment. Would he tell you he had to kill you, to save you? He was your protector, but even then maybe he would wait to explain the extent of his power. You were too precious to him to loose. He never wants to scare you away... so maybe some things should stay hidden, that is, until you understand how much he would sacrifice for you. Because anymore everyone should know...

   You are His Goddess.

[scarofthewind]

Slashers x Chubby!Reader || Lingerie (NSFW)

A/N: Hello everyone, I hope you are having a good Thanksgiving, if you don’t celebrate it then I hope you are having a good day! I am horrible, I know I need to get out the mini series as finish the Farm Life series for Ushijima as well as do a part 2 for the sad thing I posted the other day. 

Warnings: NSFW, R18+, chubby!reader, fem!reader, praise kink, authority kink

Characters: Thomas, Michael, Jason, Bo, Vincent, and Brahms

word count: 2.2k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Thomas Hewitt: 

★ You could tell by the way his shoulders sagged, that Thomas was having a rough day. He’d been busy all day ‘hunting’ and cleaning the mess he had down in the basement and at this point he could barely keep his eyes open.

★ So, being the good little lover you are, you waltz upstairs and prepare for a show. You take a nice hot shower and get yourself all cleaned up before slipping into the lingerie you had saved for a special occasion. 

★ Although, as soon as you put on the baby-doll flowing top and the string of underwear that had came with it, you frowned. The mirror in the corner of the bedroom stared right back at you as you grew more self conscious by the second. Would he even like this? I look terrible - I look like the Pillsbury dough boy. 

★ However, your negative thoughts were soon interrupted when Thomas stepped into the bedroom and froze at the sight of you. 

You chewed your lip nervously as you stood there facing him in all your glory; Thomas’ eyes darkened and you swore you heard a deep grumble from within his chest as he approached you slowly. “And what did I do to deserve this?” He asked with a grin, cupping your face in his hands. 

“You looked stressed so I wanted to make you feel better,” You replied, looking down slightly. “Do you like it? I don’t think it looks right-”

Thomas pressed a finger against your mouth and you closed it, reveling in the feeling of his hands traveling around your body. His large calloused fingers squeezed every bit of flesh they could find and Thomas almost blew a fuse seeing the small covering of underwear you had on under the sheer gown. “I think you look absolutely beautiful,” He said gently, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “The color looks good on you, but,” He trailed off, making your heart beat in anticipation. 

“As much as I would love to sit here and stare at you in this, I’d rather it be on the floor,” Thomas chuckled when you blushed, letting him drag you over to the bed and letting you sit down, his large frame towering in front of you. One hand gripped your chin and you craned your neck to look up at him, “Be a good girl for me and spread those pretty little legs.” You obliged.

Michael Myers:

★ It was your anniversary and you were determined to surprise your bastard of a lover before he returned from terrorizing the town. You made sure to pamper yourself, taking a long shower and relaxing in the tub, using the best perfume and lotions you had.

★ You even went as far as buying lingerie, which you examined on yourself in the bedroom. The straps on the legs were kind of tight but you shrugged and fixed pieces of your hair. 

★ The only thing that annoyed you was the belts around your thighs; they made them look so large, almost as if the belts were about to break. As you went to take them off, you heard the front door slam shut and you bolted to the bed, making yourself look as appealing as possible.

Holding your breath, you made to push your chest forward, exposing more of your breasts to the room and you waited for Michael to come bounding up the stairs. “You will not believe what-” Michael came into the room aggravated, but stopped as soon as he looked at you. He blinked a few times before a large smirk appeared on his face. “Is this my anniversary present from you?” He asked and you beamed in excitement and shock. 

“You remembered our anniversary?” You sat up a bit and his eyes followed the curve of your breasts. 

“Of course I remembered, your presents downstairs,” He replied, advancing towards you and groaning when you spread your legs for him to step between. “What the actual fuck, (Y/N)? Are you trying to kill me?” He growled seeing the small string of fabric that covered your pussy. 

“Do you like it?” You asked shyly and his eyes flew to yours as he grabbed your face in his hands. 

“I love it so much that I almost hate to take it off,” You giggled at his statement and his hands ran down your body, snapping the straps on your thighs, earning a whimper from you to which he grinned at. “We are keeping these on.” 

Jason Voorhees:

★ There was no particular reason as to why you stood in the doorway of your bedroom in nothing but lingerie you had covered with a bath robe. Your eyes wandered over Jason’s figure at the kitchen table, his back to you as he continued piecing together his mask that he’d accidentally broke.

★ You slipped the robe off, letting it fall to the ground before walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. 

★ You didn’t say anything, but the minute Jason’s hand traveled up your arm and to your shoulder in a loving manner, he shot up out of the chair and turned to you with a flustered expression. 

He had known from the second that his fingers couldn’t find any article of clothing that you were naked; he just wasn’t expecting the strapless lingerie you wore, framing your body so nicely. His eyes raked over your body a mile a minute, trying to take in all of what was standing in front of him. “Do you like it?” You asked meekly and blushed as Jason nodded his head quickly, moving you both to the couch, sitting you in his lap. 

His rough hands gripped the skin on your sides and you grimaced, knowing he’d probably hate the fat poking out beneath the top of the lingerie. However, Jason only nuzzled his face against your neck as a sign of assurance, his hands continuing to move all over your body. You couldn’t deny the feeling of arousal sweeping over you the more you were being felt up by him and you could already feel his cock hard beneath you. 

When his hands cupped your breasts you let out a soft moan and Jason’s eyes locked with yours, realizing that you had been waiting patiently for him to take you. He could cum from the thought alone of you dressed up for him like this; only for his eyes to see and his hands to touch. “Jason please,” You whined, letting out a small gasp when his hand traveled down to your aching cunt, his eyes widening when he realized you were wearing a thong. He groaned as he moved the fabric to the side, exposing your bare pussy to him. There was something about the small piece of clothing that turned him on; he kept those on you for the rest of the night. 

Bo Sinclair:

★ You could hear Bo torturing someone from across the street in the house you were in and by the sounds of pain coming from the female he had locked up, he was in a mood.

★ So you decided to cheer him up by sorting through your clothes and finding the nicest set of lingerie you had, slipping it on and preparing your trap. You called him on the phone as told him that there was something you had to show him immediately.

★ You watched him run across the street and you waited in the lounge chair by the window; you caught your reflection in the mirror in the corner of the room and you frowned, readjusting your position a few times and growing more and more self conscious by the second. 

Before you had time to change your mind about your plan, Bo flew through the door, making you jump a bit in your spot before his eyes met your figure and he let out a low whistle. “I thought you might need a break,” You smiled sheepishly and he raised an eyebrow at your statement, making his way towards you. “I know it’s a little small, when I bought it I was-”

“Shut your mouth,” Bo snapped at your words, knowing very well what you were trying to say. Resting his hands on the arm rests of the chair, he leaned above you, pressing his forehead against yours, “You look beautiful. I don’t want to hear another self degrading comment come out of that pretty little mouth, do I make myself clear?” He titled his head slightly as he examined your flushed face as you blushed in embarrassment. 

“Yes sir,” You replied and he hummed in approval, his eyes darkening as he pressed his lips to yours, his hands starting their journey in caressing your body. His lips moved along yours heatedly and you let out a gasp when his fingers dipped down between your legs; Bo let out a surprised sound and backed up, looking at your spread legs and smiling to himself at the sight before him. 

“Crotch-less panties? Aren’t you a naughty little girl,” He grinned ear to ear when you blushed deeper, a loud moan coming from your throat as he dove in.

Vincent Sinclair:

★ You don’t expect to get such a rise out of him when you walk into the room wearing a beautiful set of lingerie, covered by a satin robe. 

★ Vincent barely looks up from the book he’s reading, and when he does, you drop the robe and lean against the door frame. You grimace slightly when you feel your back crease, creating what some people call ‘rolls’. 

★ Vincent slams the book shut before making his way over towards you with a heavy look of desire in his eyes.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask,” He teased, pressing an open mouth kiss against your neck as he pressed you against the wall. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you let out a small moan from the feeling, his loose strands of hair that had fallen from it’s messy man bun, tickling your arm. 

“D-Do you like it?” You asked between moans as his hands cupped the swell of your ass, groping the flesh there like a cat kneading a blanket. You could feel his cock twitch against your stomach, his pants did nothing to hide it at this point. A shiver ran through you when he groaned against your neck, pulling back and resting his head against yours, looking you in the eyes. 

“I love it, you look breathtaking,” He cooed, moving some hair from your face, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth. “I love you in everything, especially your birthday suit.” He grinned when you let out a small laugh from his statement. “Don’t let those negative thoughts ruin the moment; forget about all of them and just focus on us okay?” Vincent pressed another kiss to your lips, letting out a sigh of relief when you kissed him back in agreement.

Brahms Heelshire:

★ You fiddled nervously in the lingerie you had on, trying on different pieces to see what would look the best. You’d already been through half the drawer and you were sure Brahms would come looking for you if you didn’t hurry back soon.

★ Both of you had been working hard lately to keep the house in utmost perfection and you decided to make a nice dinner and spend quality time together as a break.

★ However, nothing looked appealing to you, especially not anything that didn’t cover your stomach or backside. Groaning in frustration, you bent down and rummaged through the drawer again, not noticing the man behind you. 

Brahms watched you with eager eyes, taking in your beautiful form before him and slowly coming up behind you. “I don’t like this.” His voice grumbled from behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin, feeling his fingers trace along the thong you were wearing. As if not bothered by it, Brahms looked through the drawer and picked out a nice pair of lace panties and held them out to you. “Put these on.”

You stared at him for a moment before obliging, slipping out of the thong and putting the lace underwear on. As soon as you did, Brahms hummed to himself in approval. “You look quite ravishing, my love.” He cooed, his hands tracing over your exposed skin and his eyes watching your face as you blushed. “Have I ever told you why I prefer women with more on them than those twig women out there?” His hands traced along the underside of your breasts. 

“I don’t think you have,” You replied and he let out a noise of surprise before stepping closer to you so that there was barely and inch between your bodies and faces. 

“The more there is, the more I can claim,” His eyes gleamed as they stared down at you, your body trembling with arousal as his fingers dipped into the lace panties he’d chosen for you, the pads of his digits finding your clit and rubbing it gently. “You like it when I leave marks on you, isn’t that right pretty girl?” He smirked and you nodded. “Good, because tonight I’m going to remind you why you are perfect just the way you are.”

[afeb]

Chris Evans - Like Candy

I led under the tree with a book in hand, lazily reading over the pages. My legs stuck out into the sun in hopes of gaining some colour whilst the top half of me was in the cool shade. Dodger had long abandoned me for his bed inside, his thick fur struggling in the Boston summer. I’d heard him bark a few times and I suspected Chris was home, but I opted to let him discover my relaxed position.

Almost on que, he came swaggering into the back garden. He wore a loose fitting t shirt and shorts, bare feet padding across the grass as Dodger happily bounded beside him. Shades covered his pale blue eyes but I could see him eyeing my exposed frame, the skirt of my dress pushed up my thighs.

“Hello Doll.” Chris rumbled out as he peered down at me.

I peeped over the rim of my book before teasingly pulling it to cover my face, suppressing my giggle by biting my lip.

“Ignoring me?” He mocked hurt.

Once again I made no effort to speak, not even nudging the book from my face as I pretended to read.

“Let’s see how long this lasts.” He hummed before moving to lay down, propping himself up on his elbow and looking at me.

His hand ran over the hot skin of my thigh and I somehow kept my composure, not moving a muscle as he drew lazy circles into the skin. Raising his brows at my lack of reaction, he pinched the skin.

“Impressive.” He muttered when I again didn’t respond.

Quickly, he shuffled down my thighs, resting on his stomach. My grip on the book tightened as I fought with myself to keep my cool. Chris hooked his arms around my thighs and tugged me closer so his head was resting between my splayed legs.

His beard scratched against my skin as he pressed absentminded kisses along my thigh, his sunglasses slipping down his nose slightly which allowed me a glimpse at his soft eyes.

“Nothing?” He questioned, being met with my silence still.

I jumped as he bumped his nose against my clothes core, smirking a little as he finally received some sort of acknowledgment he was here. Slowly and teasingly his fingers looping around the band of my underwear and pulled them down my legs, throwing to haphazardly to the right of us.

“Not even a whimper?” He chuckled as he kissed the apex of my thigh.

He sponged kisses teasingly over me, ever so gently grazing his tongue over the flushed skin. I bucked my hips once again, knuckles turning white around the edges of my book. Chris quickly pressed his forearm against my stomach.

“Gotta ask for it,” he said. “Gotta ask to have my tongue.”

I prayed our neighbours weren’t in their gardens. “Chris...” I softly whined, closing the book and throwing it with my underwear.

“There she is.” He mused. “Come on, ask.”

“Please!” My hands delved into his hair as he nudged his sunglasses further up his nose.

“Be good.” He hummed with a smirk.

“Please taste me.” I pathetically whimpered.

“With pleasure.” He uttered before finally moving forward.

He licked a bold stripe up my centre, moaning lowly as I let out a breathy whine. His fingers moved to spread my open, tongue zigzagging up until he reached my bundle of nerves. Swiping to and fro, his tongue softened to lap against me.

Lips closing around my small bud and softly sucked, I couldn’t control the quiet moans that tumbled past my lips as my back arched off the grass.

I jumped as Dodger began to lick my face. “Get off!” I shoved the pooch away who sulked off into the house. Chris couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled through his chest. “You’ve stopped.”

“Sorry Ma’am.” He winked back.

His lips wrapped back around my clit as he ruthlessly sucked, tugging the bud gently between his lips before letting it go. One hand held me open as his other teased my entrance with his thick fingers, easing gently in.

He pumped a few times before adding another. Chris pulled back to admire his work, thumb swirling against my clit. His sunglasses had fallen down again and I witnessed the mischievous glint in his eye.

“Taste so sweet,” he mused. “Like candy.”

“Chris, I’m...please...” I babbled as my back once against arched.

“Gonna cum?” He asked as he curled his fingers.

I fisted the grass beside me. “Yes! There, there!” I implored.

Chris dove in without another word and mercilessly flicked his tongue rapidly against my bud. His fingers carried on stroking me as his tongue easily worked the bundle of nerves which grew more and more sensitive by the second.

I was seeing stars as I lengthy moan left my lips, Chris humming against me as I came. He licked at me lazily before kissing up my body, resting his face above mine.

I was flushed a deep red as I peered up at him. “Stopped ignoring me?”

“How could I ignore that?” I breathlessly sighed.

[sunshineseung]

Gag Gift // Seungmin

🍄 | genre: smut ☁️ | pairing: Kim Seungmin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 2.5k 🌸 | includes: dom!seungmin, sub!reader, established relationship, use of toys (ball gag), teasing, sadistic seungmo, PIV, unprotected sex, mild size kink, Seungmin is huge :), mentions of distention (stomach bulging), slight degradation and overstimulation, creampie, aftercare, soft ending 

☀️ | synopsis: Merry Christmas! Seungmin gets you the gag gift of being gagged.

🌊 | This is for the Stray Kids Smutmas collaboration hosted by @clandestine-lixie​ ! Here is a link to the full masterlist with all of the other amazing writers that participated! I’m well over a week late on when I was planning to release this because I’ve literally rewritten this five times :D I hope it’s good now though lol. Here’s a very late Merry Christmas and a slightly late Happy New Year!

You were drifting in and out of consciousness, trying desperately to stay awake until your boyfriend got home. It was very late, but since you couldn’t spend Christmas together, you wanted to see him, even if it was just to cuddle to sleep. 

There’s a faint jingling from the front door, and you spring up in excitement. The tiredness that just overwhelmed you was now nearly gone, replaced by the eagerness to greet your boyfriend. His key twists and he pushes the door open. By the time he was able to take his shoes off, you were already standing in front of him, ready to give him the biggest hug of his life.

“Minnie!” You wrapped your arms around him, taking a quick whiff of his cologne. He chuckled and hugged you back, pulling you close. You two just stood in each other’s arms in silence, appreciating this small moment, because you don’t get moments like these often. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” You could feel Seungmin’s wide smile on the back of your neck. By the way he’s squeezing you, he has missed you a lot more than you’ve missed him. “How’s my girl been while I was away?” 

“I’ve been good, I promise!” There was no need for you to tag on the last part because Seungmin trusts you more than you know, but it still brings a smile to his face to see you so jumpy and happy. He knew you’d be good. You’re always good for Seungmin. You both pull away from the hug, finally just looking at each other after what felt like ages being apart. 

“Ah, you’re so cute.” He cups your cheek and pecks your lips, making you squeal and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I got my baby a gift. Let me get comfortable before you open it.”

He passes you a box out of his bag. It’s slightly jingling, and you have no idea what Seungmin got you. You move out of his way, allowing Seungmin to go to your shared bedroom to get changed out of his outside clothes. He comes back to the living room in baggy sweatpants and a loose tee-shirt, but no matter what he wore, he looked good. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for Christmas, so I thought I’d get you something special.”

Seungmin spent Christmas with Stray Kids while you spent Christmas with your family, and it was going to be your first Christmas together before business arose and Seungmin had to stay in Seoul. Although you were both disappointed, you had your own mini-Christmas before you left for the holiday. You didn’t expect Seungmin to get you another gift, but any gift is always welcomed. 

You tear open the wrapping, tossing it in the general direction of the trashcan, and slide open the box. What you’re holding in your hands almost makes you jump back, but your mind’s too busy thinking of how to use it to react. Your hands grip the leather straps, and the large silicone ball rests in the middle. Your eyes go wide as you look up to Seungmin. His eyes are glued to you, waiting for any sort of response. 

“Is this too much?” His voice cracked, and he was clearly concerned by your reaction. You had similar kinks to each other, but he thought he finally found something that scared you, and that made his heartache. He was supposed to protect you, be the best dominant ever, but he felt like he took it too far. “I’m sorry, I can-”

“Please use it.” You cut him off mid-sentence, hoping to wash his worries away. If your wavering voice wasn’t enough, your puppy eyes surely sold the point home. “I want you to use this on me.”

“Baby,” Seungmin takes the gag from your hands and fiddles with the latch, calculating what to do next, “are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m totally sure.” You take his hands in yours, him dropping the ball gag on the couch along with the gift box. “I want this.”

“Aright, sweetheart.” He pecks your lips again, this time slightly longer and needier than before. You knew he wanted to go farther in that moment, but he wanted to keep you wanting more. “Go to the bedroom. I’ll clean this off before we use it.”

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

You patiently waited for Seungmin, spreading yourself on the bed half naked, only wearing your sheer, dark red panties that he loves to tear off of you. The few days away from each other quickly caught up to your libido and you felt a powerful sense of neediness take over every part of your body, like you were in a trance to only think about Seungmin and what he could do to your body. When he walked into the bedroom, your eyes were shut and your hand played with your cunt over your underwear.

“Ah, couldn’t wait, huh?” Seungmin leans down to kiss you, not removing your hand from your pussy or even mentioning that you should. He let you get yourself off in the slightest way for a moment before getting on top of you, pulling your wrists over your head and finally matching your gaze with his. “Before I put this in, I want to feel your pretty lips on mine.” 

Although he mentioned your lips, your make out quickly turned into a tongue-on-tongue mess, spit slowly coating your lips and drool seeping out the side of your mouth. Seungmin’s hands felt your sides, caressing your waist and chest. His fingers gently circled your nipples before twisting and pulling lightly, making you groan lightly into the kiss. He knew all your sweet spots like the back of his hand, and he intended on proving this to you over the course of the night. 

Seungmin finally pulled away from your mouth, looking down at you as you pouted from the loss. The smirk that formed on his face was devilish, but knowing he was turned on from just a short make out session was enough to make your cunt soak through your panties. 

“Open wide, princess.” His pet names always made you melt, and before your brain could comprehend what he was trying to do, your jaw had pliantly gone slack for him to wrap the leather straps around your head and settle the ball between your lips. Once the gag was fastened, he sat back and looked at the beautiful view under him: you. He was almost swooning before his dick twitched in his pants, reminding him on the task at hand. “You’re gonna stay nice and quiet for me, right?”

Without thinking, you try to squeak out a yes only to be muffled by the silicon ball which is quickly becoming covered in your spit from your resting tongue. Nothing this, you nod urgently, slightly lifting your hips for him to take your soaked panties off.

“Oh, and you wore my favorite pair. How thoughtful.” Seungmin’s left hand holds down your hips while his right hand swipes over your panties, applying pressure to your aching cunt. He can feel how wet you are, but he still wants to play with you before giving you what you so desperately desire. He presses his impressive bulge into your cunt, making you writhe from the stimulation that just isn’t enough for you to feel satisfied. To make matters worse (or better), you couldn’t even tell Seungmin how much of a tease he was being. All you could do was lay back and pray that he’d stuff his cock into you eventually.

You move your hands from above your head to your legs, helping spread them for your boyfriend to get a better angle at your cunt, but he swiftly slaps you away and moves your hands back over your head. Seungmin tsks, unsure whether or not he should get the rope out to keep your arms bound above your head. 

“Good girls keep their hands to themselves, right?” Again, you nod like your life depended on it. “Then keep your hands there, unless my baby wants to be punished?”

You shook your head left to right, hopefully displaying just how much you didn’t want to get punished. As much of a masochist as you were, at this moment in time, you just wanted to cum as many times as Seungmin would allow you to. 

“Mmm, good girl.” He grinds into you again, rolling his hips against your clothed pussy, making sure your fully saturated panties leave a wet mark on his sweatpants. He hisses, cock painfully pressing against the fabric of his pants. Luckily, he didn’t bother wearing boxers. He knew how happy you would be to see him, after all. “You want my cock, baby?” 

High-pitched moans left your throat, and while they were being muffled, they were well loud enough for Seungmin to get the idea. Once more, you lift your hips, and this time Seungmin pulls your panties down by the center and throws them to the side, quickly followed by his shirt. You get an incredible view of his sculpted abs, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world knowing you were the only one who got to see them. 

“If you want my cock so bad, you’re gonna have to beg for it.” Your eyes go wide as he laughs sadistically, fully realizing what he just said before he even said it. You jerk your hips up and down, pressing against his raging boner that was still concealed under his pants. Even though he was covered, the imprint from his cock made you want him more, as if that was possible. You could perfectly see the outline of his cock, and the darkened area around his tip pinpointed just how big his cock was. 

He shimmies his sweatpants down just enough to reveal his V line. Just before you can see where his happy trail ends, he stops. The whines coming from you can’t be silenced by the gag, and your pathetic noises are music to his ears. 

“I’m gonna fuck you raw.” His eyes squint at you, taking careful note of every expression you make. Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head at just the thought, but you still attempt to show some semblance of control. “You like being filled with my cum, huh? You like when I make you leak my cum like the little whore you are?” 

You moan in response to every question, but your eyes stay focused on his hands resting on the waistband of his pants. When he runs out of ways to tease you with his words, he kicks his sweatpants off, his long cock hitting his abs and falling back into Seungmin’s hand. He strokes himself a few times, groaning from his own touch. He looked like a Greek god, and you ate up every bit of it. 

“Is my little girl ready?” No matter what, Seungmin always liked to remind you of how small you looked compared to him. He loved to ruin your little body, even gloating to his friends that you’re so tiny compared to him. It wasn’t even just his height, it was also how his cock made you feel like you were being split in half. As painful as it could be, you loved every minute of it. “I’m not gonna hold back, baby.”

Seungmin pushes into you, going balls deep within seconds. He holds himself deep inside you, watching your face contort from the indescribable mix of pain and pleasure. His hands hold your hips before moving up to squeeze your waist and rub your stomach over the evident indent of his cock rearranging your organs. 

“Fuck, s-so tight.” He felt like he was about to snap, pressing lightly down onto your stomach to feel your walls enclose on him even more. When he started to thrust, things only got more difficult. You rolled your hips in sync with his, the sounds and scent of sex filling your stuffy bedroom on the cold winter night. Seungmin’s moans were always so pretty, and tonight was no exception. If anything, they sounded even nicer than before, but that also might have just been the added feeling of having him violate your pussy like he owned your body. The drag of his cock against your walls made you throw your head back with the pleasure becoming overwhelming in an instant. With your neck exposed, Seungmin took the opportunity to gently wrap his hand around your throat, pressing into the sides to make you choke just enough for you to tighten around him. 

You felt a familiar knot tighten in your core, and you knew you were close. If you could beg for Seungmin, you would, but given the circumstances, all you could do was sloppily moan and hope he understood, which by the convulsions of your pussy around him, he did understand. His eyes went from your bulging stomach to your face. There were tear stains running down your cheeks, and you looked so pitiful and desperate. The sight alone made him stop his thrusts so he didn’t cum, but he soon got back in the rhythm of punching your cervix with his tip. 

“Cum on my cock, pretty girl.” His hand that wasn’t on your neck went to play with your clit, his fingers circling the bud in the same rhythm as his hips thrusting into you. Your eyes were begging to him, wordlessly displaying all of your neediness with only a glance. “Show me how much you missed me.”

Nearly on cue, the knot in your stomach snapped, sending you over the edge with an intense orgasm. Your cunt clenched and convulsed around Seungmin’s twitching cock. His pace never let up: mercilessly fucking you through your orgasm. Every nerve was on end, and you felt like you were on cloud nine before crashing back down to Earth with the feeling of painful overstimulation that you loved so much. It didn’t last long, though. Seungmin shot his cum while he was bottomed out inside you, coating your walls in his milky white seed. He huffed and cursed as he held your body to his, stilling inside you onto to fuck his cum inside you once he was finished unloading. When he pulled out, his spurts of cum leaked down onto the bed from your fucked-out hole, and it looked so hot, Seungmin almost got hard again. 

“Lean up, princess.” You raised your head off the bed for Seungmin to release you from the gag, placing the toy on your bedside table. “Let me clean you up.” 

Seungmin disappears into the bathroom and returns with a dampened wash rag to wipe the sweat from your forehead and clean the mixture of cum from your cunt. All you could do was lay there and accept the gracious care from your loving boyfriend.

He tossed the rag on the floor and collapsed next to you, pulling you close and nuzzling into you. The smell of his cologne was now mixed with sweat and musk, but you didn’t mind. He held you like he never wanted to let you go, like you were his forever, and in his mind, you were. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/n.” He kisses your forehead and pets the hair away from your face, revealing your glimmering eyes. Despite what just happened minutes prior, you felt like the most loved woman on the planet. 

“Merry Christmas, Seungmin.”

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 3: Statesmen & Demons

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: The morning after is filled with misunderstandings and overwhelming feelings. Things just get worse after you, Whiskey, and Frankie debrief with Champ, Ginger, and Pope, and old demons are brought to light.

Rating: M - No Minors

Warnings: Mentions of minor injuries, mentions of non-major character deaths, lots of talk surrounding drugs, a panic attack, angst, alcohol - If I'm missing any just let me know!

A/N: We’ve got misunderstandings and angst in this chapter. We get a peek at Frankie’s prior drug use and he’s not in a good headspace about it. This chapter and the next will deal pretty heavily with these issues. A very special thanks to Agent Capri Sun and @danniburgh for reading over these chapters and giving me the encouragement to get these out there! ~5.9k WC

Chapter 2: All Hell Breaks Loose [AO3]

Consciousness found you as it did most mornings, pinned by a strong, warm arm. You groaned softly while nuzzling back into the warmth, then opened your eyes, surprised to see Whiskey lounging in a chair off to the side of the bed, scrolling on his phone. His eyes met yours with a smile of his own, and then everything that had happened the night before came flooding back. Murmuring in his sleep, Frankie pulled you closer to him and you smiled back at Jack. It felt so right, so natural, you just wished Jack would leave his phone and come back to bed. Whiskey put his phone away and tilted his head, gesturing for you to join him and put his phone away. Carefully, you did your best to extract yourself from Frankie’s warm embrace, wincing as your body ached in protest. You let out a huff once you steadied yourself on your feet only to have Whiskey pull you into his arms.

“Are you alright, Sugar? I found some sweats and a t-shirt that’ll fit you in the closet. Figured you’d want somethin’ a touch more comfortable after last night.”

“You’re a godsend, Jack. I’m good, you boys just really wore me out.”

Jack chuckled softly and you moved to put on the clothes that lay folded on the chair Frankie had been bound to last night. It was normal that the safehouses were stocked with loungewear of a few different sizes in the event an agent needed a quick change. Groaning, you hobbled over to the kitchen, intent on pouring yourself a cup of coffee. He beat you to it though, and you heard him tut in disapproval.

“Uh-uh, you just sit your pretty little behind down and let me get that for you, darlin’.”

You didn’t bother arguing, knowing Whiskey wouldn’t hear it, and frankly, with how sore you were, you didn’t want to. He set a mug down in front of you, then took a seat at the table with his own mug.

“I talked to Ginger earlier. From what it looks like, our pilot was right, they launched one hell of an amorous agent at the gala last night. She sent me some more details, and so far the only casualties were two of the guys from the private security attachment, the people we downed, and a few attendees who had prior heart complications, their hearts gave out from blood pressure spikes.”

You took a sip of your coffee, letting the warmth fill you, then bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation.

“We’re probably safe to assume then that casualties weren’t their goal, and had they known Statesmen agents would be there, they would have made sure to neutralize us first. With all the chatter Ginger was catching wind of though, they’re either new or they were trying to get someone’s attention.”

Whiskey nodded, pursing his lips and staring down at his coffee while his fingers tapped rhythmically on the table.

“Penny for your thoughts, Whiskey?”

Deep, melted chocolate eyes flickered up to meet your gaze and his mouth twisted as if in distaste for the words he was about to say.

“Now, there’s no good way to bring this up other than just saying it, and I told Ginger I’d ask.” He paused, reconsidering again, then sighed. “Did you tell Frankie or Santiago about Statesmen?”

Your brow furrowed and a muscle in your jaw ticked as you clenched your teeth. You had kept Statesmen’s secret all these years, even though it killed you to keep anything from your old squad. They were your family, and you couldn’t stand lying to them. A sharp flare of anger burned in your chest. The need to lie to them had frankly been a major part of why you hadn’t been back to visit since Tom’s funeral.

“No, of course not, Whiskey.”

Your voice was even, deadpan almost but it was clear from your face that your anger was growing. Jack put a hand up in surrender and gently rested his other hand on your forearm.

“Hey, hey, we don’t want to wake him up.”

He let out a sigh and moved his hand down to cradle your fingers in his own.

“I didn’t figure you had, darlin’, I just had to ask. Especially since he apparently already knew we had a safehouse.”

You took in a deep breath then slowly exhaled, glancing over at Frankie who was still sleeping peacefully.

“Yeah, well, if there were two people in the whole world who’d never believe my cover, it’d be Frankie and Santi. They’re smart, and they know me better than almost anyone else.”

Whiskey jerked his hand away from you, feigning hurt for a moment before it gave way to a teasing smile when you swatted his arm.

“How was he? After I fell asleep.”

“Well, his wrists are in a bad way. Shy as could be when I had him sit down so I could bandage him up. As if he hadn’t moaned at deepthroating my fingers just a bit before.”

You nearly choked on your coffee. It was downright sinful the way Jack could say such lewd things with a voice like honey.

“If you’re wondering whether he regretted it, I highly doubt it, sweetheart. I think you were exactly on the money when you thought about him, but… Well, this ain’t exactly the best way for it to all happen.”

You nodded, sighing while you rubbed the back of your hand with your thumb, a self-soothing gesture you seldom did anymore.

“Certainly not the way we had hoped for it to happen. This was hardly dinner and a conversation. I didn’t expect to spring this on him after only just popping back into each other’s lives after five years. I can’t even really count the funeral since… well, we hardly talked.”

Jack squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“Nothing doing worrying about it, darlin’. We’ll sort everything out once he wakes up.”

Just then, your stomach growled and Whiskey chuckled.

“Besides, sounds like I should be worrying about what to make us for breakfast. Champ isn’t expecting us to debrief until 14:00. Which reminds me, I had Ginger get a hold of Santiago. He’s fine, and they’re sending Vermouth to pick him up and bring him to the office for the debrief.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you nod, grateful that Santi was ok after the attack. A small huff of excitement brings your attention back to Whiskey, finding him holding a box of pancake mix triumphantly.

“How about pancakes, darlin’?”

His eyes twinkle at the way yours widen in excitement.

“Pancakes it is then, baby.”

Frankie woke to hushed voices and the smell of pancakes. His stomach growled, and he groaned as he sat up. He felt like he had been hit by a truck.

“Hijo de puta.” [Son of a bitch.]

He muttered to himself, hissing when he bumped his wrist. You turned from your conversation with Jack after hearing Frankie curse, and you couldn’t help but admire how cute he looked in his post-sleep haze. His unruly curls were at all different angles and you fought the urge to walk up to him and sink your fingers in them.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” You paused a moment, looking at the stove clock, “Well, not exactly morning anymore.”

Frankie groaned as he stretched his arms and rolled his aching shoulders, then staggered to the kitchen table, sinking into the open chair and pulling out his phone for the time: noon.

“Fuck, Whiskey, I told you I only needed five hours.”

Whiskey stretched in his seat, waving dismissively at Frankie.

“Clearly you needed more than five hours, Flyboy. You were barely standing when you woke me up this morning. I called our Executive Tech Coordinator, Ginger, to check in. She’s having Santiago picked up, and he’ll meet us at our office. They’re not expecting us until 14:00, we’ve got some time.”

Frankie grumbled under his breath, and you noticed the way Jack’s eyebrow shot up in response to the grumbling. Hiding your smile, you got up and made a plate of pancakes for Frankie, then poured him a cup of coffee.

“Cream or sugar?”

Frankie shakes his head and takes a sip from his coffee, a small hum of pleasure vibrating in his throat.

“Gracias, Halcón.”

Both you and Jack watched him, bemused at the way Frankie shoveled the pancakes into his mouth.

“You should be thanking Whiskey. He’s the one who made them.”

Frankie swallowed then paused, looking over at Whiskey, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“These are delicious, Whiskey, thanks.”

A warm smile lit up Whiskey’s face, and he nodded in appreciation. After a moment, his gaze flickers over to yours, silently seeking your approval to start the conversation you know needs to take place before the debriefing. You refill your coffee, then give Whiskey a nod.

“Before we head out, there are a few things we need to go over, Frankie.”

Whiskey’s drawl floated in Frankie’s ears and tugged at him in a way he hadn’t expected it to without the amorous agent in his system.

“First things first, how did you figure we had a safehouse? Did you already know about Statesmen?”

Frankie blinked and sat back, looking between you and Jack before clearing his throat.

“Pope and I always figured you went into intelligence after the Army, Halcón. Pope doesn’t get called in for small gigs much anymore, and the money Pope pitched the job to me for meant it was high profile. Never believed that story of you being an EA at a distillery for a second. You hate paperwork. Seeing you there meant there might be trouble... Well, you’re always trouble, Halcón.”

He smiled, chuckling a bit to himself.

“Your revolvers and whip, and her pistol in a thigh holster… Well, with everything else, that pretty much confirmed to me that you’re both spooks. That’s why I figured you’d have your own safe houses. I couldn’t guarantee any of Pope’s because of the gas. I didn’t know who had been caught or who had been affected. Just put the pieces together, really.”

Frankie shrugged, and Jack, who had been watching him intently, nodded.

“We’re not on anyone’s radar, Frankie. The distillery is real and helps fund our operations, but not even the President is aware, and we like to keep it that way. So you can understand why there were some concerns when you seemed to have it figured out.”

He nodded, understanding completely the security concerns that came with that kind of secrecy.

“Glad you’re not a jackass CIA agent at least, Halcón.”

You snorted and shook your head.

“No, but Whiskey here is plenty jackass for the both of us.”

Whiskey scoffed and shook his head.

“That’s not the tune you were singing when we first met, darlin’. I seem to remember rescuing you, then stitching you up.”

“I didn’t need rescuing, Whiskey. They grazed me, but I had them!”

Frankie chuckled, a smirk settling on his lips at your indigent retort as he held your gaze. His smirk faltered, however, when he felt your hand rest on his arm. He knew this fleeting moment where things felt oddly right and natural, joking around in the kitchen was just that: fleeting. Now, the other shoe was about to drop.

“All things considered, Fish, you look good… I’m glad.”

Jack sat back, observing the two of you. That simple sentence held more weight than he’d expect it to in a normal conversation. The way Frankie frowned slightly and looked down and away didn’t escape his attention. He watched you fidget for a moment before starting again.

“About last night, Frankie-”

“You two look really good together. Seem to be really great partners, and… and I’m not going to do something dumb like try to get in the way of that or anything. I know we were all affected by the gas, a-and I was available.”

Frankie blurted out. The words felt thick and bitter on his tongue, his heart protesting each syllable, but he so desperately wanted to give you an out from this situation, from him and his baggage. He didn’t want to lose you or your friendship, not when he had just gotten you back in his life. His gaze was actively avoiding yours and Whiskey’s, opting instead to stare down at the floor. You and Jack shared a frown as you took a beat to recover. Whiskey was clearing his throat to try to salvage the conversation, but you could see the gears moving in Frankie’s head as he suddenly stood.

“I need to go prep the helo if we’re going to make it back in time.”

The walls were coming up brick by devastating brick in Frankie’s downcast, coffee-colored eyes. On instinct, you reached out for him, your fingers wrapping around his wrist, only to jerk back just as suddenly as he winced in pain.

“Sorry. Frankie, just wait a second.”

“Yeah, now look here, Flyboy, we didn’t do anything we didn’t want to. Hell, you can be damn sure I enjoyed myself.”

There was an ugly, acrid taste pooling in Frankie’s mouth that he couldn’t stop: jealousy. Of course Whiskey had enjoyed himself. At the end of the day, he still had you. Frankie hated himself all the more for this jealousy. It didn’t even have anything to do with the cowboy, he actually liked him despite his cocky attitude. He caught himself, realizing it had almost everything to do with the self-hatred he still harbored. Three years clean was still more than three years too late. Realizing he hadn’t responded, Frankie nodded, gaze flicking from Whiskey to you.

“Can we all at least grab dinner this Friday and talk about it?”

There’s hope in your voice as you plead with him, and you can see his walls stop rising, at least for the moment.

“Ok, yeah.” There’s another awkward pause before Frankie checks his phone for the time and rocks back on his heels. “I’m going to get the helo ready. We need to head out soon.”

You watched as he quickly dressed himself in the disheveled clothes from the night prior and headed out the door in record speed.

Frankie breathed in the fresh air as he walked over to the helicopter. He needed to clear his head. His emotions were all over the place from the night prior and lack of sleep, and it felt like he was giving himself whiplash. Reaching the helicopter, he set out to pull the tarp off of the aircraft. It was much easier taking the damned thing off than it was putting it on, probably having to do with the fact that he wasn’t moments away from collapsing to try to give himself some relief. Gritting his teeth, he willed the thoughts away and made quick work of folding the tarp, stowing it away in its compartment in the cockpit. Frankie sank into the pilot's seat with a sigh and began taking inventory of everything. The blazer he had carelessly wrenched off was still laying in a heap on the floor. He leaned down to pick it up and dust it off, his eyes meandering to Pope’s pistol laying in the co-pilot’s chair. Thankfully, he hadn’t lost it in the chaos of everything. Throwing his head back against the headrest, Frankie closed his eyes. At least they’d be heading out soon and he could throw himself into whatever came next.

You and Whiskey sat at the table for a moment longer, and it was Whiskey who broke the silence.

“Well… everything considered, sweetheart, that could have been worse. Could have gone better too though.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at Whiskey.

“It’s probably just… a lot for him. The last time we saw each other wasn’t exactly stellar.”

“It was a funeral, Bourbon. That’s understandable.”

That wasn’t exactly what you’d meant, but you kept silent, nodding. Whiskey stood up, walking around the table until he stood in front of you. He took your hands in his own and hauled you up, holding you tight and kissing the top of your head.

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get our things together. Champ’ll be waiting for us.”

You and Whiskey moved quickly to gather your belongings, and you had never been more grateful for the stock slip-on shoes Statesmen provided. You didn’t want to have to go out barefoot. Looking back at the safe house, you almost felt bad with the mess you were leaving behind, but you knew for a fact the Statesmen cleaning service had seen far worse.

Frankie only acknowledged you and Whiskey once your headsets were on.

“Get ready, we’re taking off. Statesmen New York office in 20 minutes. Thankfully, we’ve got plenty of fuel.”

The trip back to the office was awkward but thankfully quiet, and Frankie focused on the calming effect flying had on him. After about 20 minutes, you heard Campari’s voice on the radio.

“Approaching aircraft, state your clearance code.”

Whiskey got up from his seat and stood next to Frankie.

“Campari, this is Whiskey, clearance code Alpha-Whiskey-Niner-Niner-Foxtrot.”

There was a pause on the other end as Campari reviewed the code.

“Confirmed, welcome back, Agents Whiskey and Bourbon. Mr. Morales, you’re cleared to land.”

Frankie expertly navigated the helicopter to the landing pad and Whiskey was the first to hop out once they landed. You followed closely behind, turning to make sure Frankie was following. He certainly was, although a few steps behind, and his gaze was still downcast. Frankie was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, still mostly inside his own head as they walked through giant oak double doors into a conference room. It wasn’t until he heard Santiago’s voice that his gaze snapped up.

“¡Hermano!”

Frankie gave Pope a smile as they clasped arms. Then, the other man grabbed Frankie’s shoulders tightly.

“¡Nunca más me asustes así! ¿Entíendes?” [Never scare me like that again! Got it?/Understand?]

Frankie nodded sheepishly, then went to take a seat across from you and to the left of Whiskey.

“Put those on.”

Whiskey gestured to the orange tinted aviators resting on the conference table, identical to the ones you and Whiskey now wore. You watched Frankie bite his lip in concentration, then smiled at the way his eyes lit up as he put them on to see a hologram of Champ seated at the far end of the table.

“¡Ay!”

Frankie and Santiago shout in surprise. Champ shares a look of amusement with you and Whiskey, then gives the other two men a warm smile.

“Alright everyone, let’s get this show on the road. Name’s Champagne but anyone who knows what’s good for them calls me Champ. The lovely lady on the screen on the wall here is Ginger, and y’all are familiar with Whiskey and Bourbon.”

Frankie and Santiago were still in awe, but they nodded their acknowledgements to Champ and Ginger.

“Now, Ginger has an update for us, but first, I must commend you, Catfish. From what I understand, you identified the threat and moved to get Whiskey and Bourbon out of there, minimizing casualties as well as ensuring two of our best agents weren’t captured. I’m sure it was a tremendous feat to do so and fly yourselves to safety given the… well, the condition y’all were in.”

You, Jack, and Frankie had the decency to blush. Frankie ducked his head at the compliment and did his best to avoid eye contact with Pope. He just knew Santi would have a teasing remark about the three of them being together.

“Ginger was able to confirm that the amorous agent used in last night’s attack is a variant of a new drug being used to torture information out of victims.”

“From what Whiskey and I were reviewing,” You interjected, “I think it’s safe to say casualties weren’t their primary objective. Considering how... incapacitated the attendees were, it would have been easy to take more lives. Instead, the deaths seem to be accidental, the result of the private security team or us. It looks to me like their main objective was humiliation. I doubt they knew who Whiskey and I are, if they even had Statesmen Distillery on their radar since we were last-minute additions.”

Frankie nodded and thrust his chin out to Santiago.

“Pope and I heard about it at a conference for his security firm. The ingredients and refinement process are supposed to be too delicate and expensive for something mass market or on the scale that we saw last night.”

Champ nodded and pursed his lips in thought. A sound came from the TV as Ginger chimed in.

“It appears we may have caught a break with that, actually. Final lab results just came in, and analysis of the Agent Red compound also included trace elements of cocaine. Now, last year we busted the Golden Circle cartel, so this could be the competition sweeping in. They might have the resources and facilities to pull it off.”

The room went quiet. Frankie hadn’t heard anything past “cocaine” and the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. His head turned in stiff, jerky movements as his gaze met Pope’s then yours and you can’t think of a moment you’ve seen him more afraid than he is now. Years of dropping into war zones couldn’t touch his reaction now: the quickening of his breath, the way his brows went up and furrowed slightly, the way his eyes widened and froze or the way his lips were parted, tense from the words that were silently stumbling over each other trying to escape the leash of his tongue. Jack took in the way you blanched and Frankie’s pure terror, and finally the pieces fell into place. The words had finally pulled free from Frankie’s tongue, but it was clear that he was far too panicked to put together much of a sentence.

“N-no! I--this, this c-can’t be… Hawk,” he started, desperate to reassure you he’d been clean, as if this brush with the illicit substance negated everything he had done. But you hadn’t been around to see him get clean, so how could he expect you to believe him after how he was when you had left? Frankie started again, frantically seeking Pope’s gaze, “Pope, you know… you know I’ve been clean for three years. I can’t-no, I can’t lose it! I just...I just got it ba-”

Frankie’s voice was broken, the words were crashing into each other, frantic in between sharp, shaky inhales. He looked physically ill, and Jack could see all of the tell-tale signs of a bad panic attack playing out before him. Without hesitating, he swung his chair to face Frankie.

“Hey, Flyboy, you gotta breathe.”

Frankie squeezed his eyes shut, ears clinging to Whiskey’s Southern drawl, desperate to ground himself to something. The peaceful image of a cabin by a quiet lake that he conjured up during times like these was gone, just out of reach, almost taunting him. He flinched when Jack’s large, warm hand came in contact with his back, but he let the other man gently push him forward until his head was between his knees. Frankie did his best to try to regain his breathing, he was emotionally and physically exhausted, this had just been the final straw. The warmth emanating from Whiskey’s hand spread down his back, and his mind clung to the sensation like a drowning man would a lifeline. Slowly, Frankie’s gulping of air began to shift towards almost normal as the pressure in his chest eased.

Pope shared a look with you, then cleared his throat.

“Fish had...some issues with cocaine a while back, and his pilot’s license was suspended because of it. He’s worked hard to get his license back, and he’s been clean.”

Champ nodded. He held no judgement. Hell, their own Tequila had had his own run-ins with illicit substances. Your gaze flickered to Whiskey, it seemed like his sole concern was Frankie in that moment. His eyes met yours briefly, and the warring emotions in them foreshadowed a later conversation, but then the moment was gone, and his focus was back on Frankie. Champ paused a moment longer, making sure that Frankie looked to be recovering before continuing.

“Not to worry, Catfish, should you have any trouble with a surprise drug test, Statesmen’ll take care of it. After all, it couldn’t have been helped, and we owe you for Whiskey and Bourbon.”

Frankie slowly brought himself to sit upright, nodding stiffly. Ginger felt for Frankie, watching him as he emptily accepted Champ’s promise.

“If it’s any consolation, we found only trace amounts, nothing substantial.” Not enough to get you hooked were the unspoken words accompanying her statement.

A shaky breath of relief found its way out of Frankie’s lungs, but the fear remained in his eyes. What if he slipped up? Champ was running a cigar under his nose pensively.

“For now, Pope, I want you to coordinate with Ginger. See if you can fill in any of our gaps on the attack last night. Whiskey, Bourbon, I want your reports in tonight. I don’t need to explain but anything you two can remember could be helpful for Ginger and Pope. Catfish,” Frankie’s head snapped up, gaze settling on Champ at the sound of his name. He was ready for an assignment, for something, anything to get his mind off of the thoughts swirling around in his head. “Ginger booked you a hotel just a few blocks from the New York office. I want you to go there, relax, and get some sleep. I understand you got some rest this morning, but given the ordeal you’ve been through, I’m having you take the rest of the day.”

Frankie opened his mouth to protest, but Champ quickly shushed him by continuing.

“Now, don’t worry, it’s not just you. As soon as Whiskey and Bourbon are done with their reports, I’m sending them home too.”

Frankie pursed his lips and nodded, already feeling like a burden and that his last foothold was crumbling. The meeting went on for a few more minutes, but Frankie was in his own head, effectively on autopilot. His shoulders were slumped and his gaze was fixed on some unknown far off point. You, Jack, and Pope shared a concerned glance as the meeting ended. Frankie blinked when Santiago walked up to him, putting his hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“Hey, I forgot your go bag, but I grabbed your hat. Figured you’d want it, hermano.”

Standing, Frankie nodded, murmuring his thanks. The doors opened and another agent walked into the conference room.

“Mr. Morales, I’m Agent Vermouth. Please come with me. Ginger asked that I make sure you get to the hotel without any issues.”

You winced at the hurt in Frankie’s eyes that quickly gave way to a hollow nothingness, and your heart clenched for him. There was no way Vermouth could have known the circumstances, what the additional weight his words would have on Frankie. Frowning, Frankie shuffled after Vermouth and disappeared from the room. With a sigh, you turned to Santiago.

“Hey Pope, Whiskey’s just next door, and I’m down the hall. I’m sure Ginger will give you a call in a few minutes. You’ve got the whole conference room to yourself for the rest of the day.”

Pope nodded before you and Whiskey turned to head out.

“My office, Bourbon.”

Whiskey’s voice was low. You had been expecting this, you knew you hadn’t been exactly forthcoming given Whiskey’s past issues. Before you both could make it out of the conference room, Pope’s voice stopped you.

“Hawk?”

Santiago frowned and took a deep breath.

“He really has gotten his shit together. Colombia broke him, and none of us should have been there but I-” Pope sighed and scratched at his beard. “Frankie’s put in the work, he did it, he’s doing it. I know you might have doubts since you weren’t there, but you know I wouldn’t enable him… I just mean that, don’t write him off because of this, Halcón.”

You gave Pope a soft, sad smile and nodded.

“I won’t, Santi.”

There was a beat of silence, Jack quietly observing the two of you. At last, Santiago nodded, and you left the conference room with Jack. He unlocked the door to his office, holding it open for you and you strolled in, making a beeline for the whiskey and two tumblers that sat on the bar cart. You heard him lock the door again as you poured two fingers for each of you. Taking the tumblers in hand, you slid down onto Whiskey’s brown leather couch and handed him the other glass. He was quiet. You both took a sip from your glasses, and then he bit his lip, staring at the swirling amber liquid.

“When were you going to tell me, Bourbon? Were you going to tell me? I mean hell, especially with what we’re considering with him, you gotta tell me shit like this.”

His eyes only met yours at his last word, his face was one of hurt and anger tinged with betrayal.

“I’m sorry, Jack, I really am. I was going to tell you, I was planning on telling you after we went down for the fight. If he was still doing well, then we’d talk about it. If he wasn’t… well, then I was going to tell you anyways. Like Santi said, I don’t have the full story. You’re right though, and I’m really sorry, Jack. I should have told you.”

He held your gaze and nodded almost imperceptibly as you gently reached out to hold his hand and took a sip of your whiskey.

“About three years ago, I reached out to Benny, one of the guys from our unit, to congratulate him on a fight, and we started catching up. He mentioned Frankie was cleaning up his act. The guys-- Pope, Catfish, Benny, Ironhead and Redfly-- went to Colombia on a job, and I don’t have all the details because it wasn’t an official mission, but Redfly, our old Captain, died.”

Whiskey nodded, remembering you were fairly new at the time but already a rising star. He remembered the devastation on your face when you had gotten the news. After all, he had been the one to escort you to Champ’s office when you requested time off for the funeral.

“I remember. You went to his funeral. About 4 years ago now.”

You nodded.

“It was the last time I saw Frankie, and he was not in a good place. Not only because of whatever happened in Colombia, but he got back to find his fiancée had left him, and he had started using again. The guys don’t like to talk about what happened, especially not Pope, as I’m sure you noticed. I called Benny again a year ago. With everything that was happening with Poppy and the Golden Circle, I was worried Frankie had slipped up, but I was also so hopeful that he hadn’t. Benny told me that Frankie was still clean, he’d gotten his license back, and was doing well for himself.”

Whiskey sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It… it doesn’t make me think less of him, sweetheart. You know I’ve been doing the work in therapy, and I understand he’s not the same as the bastards who took everything from me. I know that’s why you were apprehensive. If this is going to work though, we need to communicate. I can’t have you keepin’ secrets like this.”

You nodded. The understanding between you was solid, and you knew you should have told him sooner. He took your glass and pulled you closer so you could nestle into his side. It had been an exhausting 24 hours, and you both wanted nothing more than to have this moment to just exist with each other. After a few quiet moments, you took your glass from his hand, threw back the rest of your drink, then disentangled yourself from Whiskey.

“I’m going to go get changed then get on that report so I can get the hell out of here. I want to take a bath and unwind a bit first, but do you want to do takeout at your place tonight?”

“Wouldn’t have my night any other way, sweetheart. I’ll text you later?”

You nod and wink, earning you one of his soft smiles, then you head out.

The hotel room was nice, far nicer than any room Frankie would have ever booked for himself. It was swanky and refined, whereas the hotel they had planned for the gala at was gaudy and flashy. Frankie stared at the menus laying on the bed next to him, not really seeing the words printed before him. Agent Vermouth had told him to order room service and not to worry about the cost, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. He closed his eyes, cradling his head in his hands, trying to shut out the dark thoughts circling around him. This feeling, low in his stomach, twisting knots in him, felt like failure. Like he was a failure. It felt like somehow all of the work he had put into getting clean had been undone in a blink of the eye. He hadn’t even sought it out or consented to it. No, it seemed like no matter what he did, his past… the drugs, they would always catch up to him. Of course it was happening now, when he had a real shot at something better. He wasn’t sure what you were hopeful for when you pleaded with him to do dinner in two days’ time, but at least he could hope for regaining your friendship.

With a sigh, he got up and ambled to the minibar, grabbing a few bottles of whiskey, downing one, then sank back onto the bed. His personal phone suddenly went off. Fumbling around for it in his pocket, he took a deep breath, then unlocked it.

Kevin: I couldn’t find someone to cover for you, I’m letting you go Morales. If you have any personal belongings we’ll have them mailed to you. Your final paycheck will be deposited on Friday.

Frankie felt tears prick at his eyes, and he desperately scrubbed at his face with the heel of his left hand as if his efforts would keep the tears from falling. That was the last thing he needed right now.

What a fucking mess he was.

He was a veteran, a former cocaine addict, and now he could add jobless to his titles. It felt like his world was crumbling all around him.

Fuck.

Frankie squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, desperately wishing this was just one of his nightmares. His hands shook, whether from stress or something else he wasn’t sure. He downed another bottle, staring at the minibar a moment longer, fingers fumbling with the cap of the third.

He was drowning. He needed...something. He needed help.

Soooo, hi...yes...thank you for reading! I've got Chapter 4 in the wings and Chapter 5 knocking around my drafts!

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[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter twelve

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1660

When the sun poked its head through the window and serenely convinced your eyes to open, you were disappointed and grateful all in the same moment. You stretched a bit, expecting your arm to brush Levi, but only being met with the soft white sheets adorning the bed the two of you had shared. Part of you was a bit upset, and the other was glad you didn't have to face him. What would you even say to him? You placed your hand over the ruffled sheets next to you; it was still warm -- he hadn't been gone long. Your mind had spun together embarrassment, confidence, happiness, dismay, longing and dislike all into one confusing feeling that left you dizzy.

As your vision focused, you saw his clothes still neatly laid over the chair. You sat up rather quickly and peeked over the side of the bed; his boots were still there, too. "Fuck," you whispered, throwing your head back on the pillow and sighing.

Like clockwork, Levi walked in. His hair was messy and unkempt, and his eyes looked tired. His pants hung loosely around his hips from the night of sleeping in them. Between where his pants hung low and his shirt rode up, the bottom of his stomach and the band of his underwear peaked through. "Good morning," he greeted you, the tiniest grin evident on his face for only a second. "How did you sleep?" He walked over to the chair, sauntering in the nonchalant fashion only he could accomplish.

"I slept well," you answered, embarrassed down to the bone. You knew your cheeks shone red, and you wished Levi had left before you woke up. "Sorry about last night. I -- um --" You watched as he pulled his shirt swiftly over his head with one hand and elected to stare at the ceiling instead. "I was having a pretty rough dream." You found yourself glancing over at him again as he buttoned and tucked in the white shirt he wore the day before. He nodded.

"Erwin kept me away much longer than I would've preferred. Don't be sorry, though. I needed to catch up on sleep anyway." He slung his jacket over his shoulders and sat on the edge of your bed, pulling his boots onto his feet. He tied them into bows before standing and facing you. He reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, sending the same tingles down your arm that overtook most of your body the night before. "I have work to do. I'll be back tonight. Good luck with Hange today." With that, he turned and started toward the door.

"Levi," you called after him, seeing him turn his head to the side in acknowledgement, "you left your shirt." It was laid flat at the foot of the bed, neatly placed as if he put it there on purpose.

"I know."

---

When Jean came in that morning, you knew you were in for a ride. You had been questioning what to do in the hour between Levi's departure and Jean's arrival, and eventually decided on telling him the truth. You were pulling your shirt over your head as Jean sat on the bed and faced the wall opposite to you, and you decided now was as good a time as ever.

"So, I have a little bit of news," you began, your voice trailing. You watched the back of his head as he perked up, waiting excitedly to hear whatever you had to tell him.

"Well, go ahead and take the floor. No need for a dramatic introduction," he told you, folding his hands in his lap.

"Levi and I slept together last night," you obliged.

"What the fuck?" he said rather loudly, his head whipping around to face you. Your arms launched to cover your unclothed body as his face turned red, and he turned right back around to face the wall.

"Damn it, Jean, I'm changing!"

"My bad. You just dropped a lot of information on me at once. Maybe we did need a dramatic introduction." You watched him lay his head in one hand and saw the rise and fall of his back as he sighed. "You're going to be the death of me, you know. You had sex with Captain Levi?"

Your cheeks burned red at his assumption. "No! What? I didn't word that clearly enough. We literally slept together. Asleep. In the same bed. Together." You watched the rise and fall again as he breathed out, likely with relief.

"How the hell did you end up curled up in bed with the captain?" His tone sounded slightly less urgent, more exasperated than shocked.

You slid your shirt -- Levi's -- over your head and relived the events of the night before for what must have been the hundredth time. You half hopped, half limped around the bed and sat next to Jean, leaning back on your hands.

"Okay, so he came in and we had tea like always. Then, some guy I didn't recognize came to tell him that Erwin needed him in his office. He told me he'd be back soon, but after a few hours I fell asleep. When he came back, he woke me up because I was having a pretty bad nightmare," you recalled, looking up at the ceiling. Your eyes moved to Jean's as you continued. "He was making sure I was okay, and asked if I need anything. For some reason, I asked him to lay with me."

Jean shook his head. "And he just climbed in bed with you? That's hard to believe."

You shrugged. "It's the truth. He took off his shoes and his jacket and stuff and just hopped in. Cuddled with me and everything. It was pretty strange."

It was, undeniably. No matter how hard you tried to rationalize the events of the night before as the natural progression of your newfound friendship, or just a gesture of comfort during a traumatic time, the fact that it was strange at best was unavoidable. You hugged yourself inconspicuously and absentmindedly, thinking of how it felt to have his arm around your shoulders and your face tucked into the safety of his chest. You remembered how, when he thought you were asleep, his fingers started to trace circles in your hair and on your arms. He'd never admit to that, though. Just as you'd never admit that you laid there, eyes closed and yet still awake, until his breathing became even and his fingers trailed away to fall onto the mattress at your side. When you were sure he was sleeping, you finally allowed your eyes to peer up at his face for a few long moments to admire how peaceful he looked.

"Do you have a thing for him?" Jean asked, voice a bit less exasperated, snapping you out of your trance of memories.

"No!" you defended yourself, before the truthful part of your brain came forward. "Well, I don't know. I hated him a couple of weeks ago. Then he apologized to me, and started coming to my room every night. He's not as abrasive as he was before." You let your arms rest on your knees, hands hanging daintily down. "Maybe I do. But it isn't like it matters. He would never look at me that way."

The two of you continued idly talking about the night before as you walked to meet Hange, Connie joining on the way and ending the conversation abruptly. The day was full of much more walking on your own than the typical one, and it was evident how much better you were getting. You decided that perhaps the end wasn't too far away.

Still, you couldn't take your mind off Levi. You remembered your anger when he caught you stealing food for Sasha, the livid hate dripping from your voice as you yelled at him. You thought of his harsh tone as he berated you for risking your life, and again when he announced that he knew of your time spent with Eren. Then, your mind shifted.

You could hear the sincerity in his voice as clearly as day as he told you that he would have risked his life just the same in your situation. Even in his dislike for you, he found a moment to praise. The validation that moment alone gave you was immense. You imagined his arms cradling you as he carried you back from the bathroom that night, knowing that marked the beginning of everything with him.

Then, you thought of how it was now. The hushed talks over steaming cups of tea as you slowly became friends were now a staple of your day. Sure, he was tough, and hardly agreeable. At times you absolutely loathed him. But beneath that surface, you theorized, there was an entirely different person. You could see it when the corner of his mouth turned up as if he was trying to keep his smile as a secret. Or when he looked at you in concern, his almost invisible display of caring for you. When he touched your hand and asked if you were okay. When he held you so gently after your nightmare that you were sure you were in the arms of a much more sensitive man.

You thought of your excitement for the night to follow, of the feeling of the soft cotton of his grey shirt against your skin -- the fact that no one knew it belonged to him. It was overwhelming, yet predictable. Confusing, while still one of the clearest things you had ever experienced. Comfortable and serene and simple, foreign and anxious and complex.

Somewhere within your mess of a mind, you were sure of how you felt. You were also sure that it would be either a hopeful bound forward, or a troublesome march down the path of regret.

You hoped for the former.