#and so I was readying up on tips for trying

[beka-tiddalik]

I pause mid-leap, which is to say that I drop to the ground in front of the target. The mage.

I shake my head, as though trying to rid my ears of water, but the problem is not being unable to use my senses.

For the first time in what feels like ages, my mind is open, rather than forced into the coerced tunnel vision of the target the Target thetargetTHETARGET!

The sensory explosion of other scents and sounds, of the sweat soaked into my own clothes from days of hard running and sleeping rough, to the harsh panting of the mage, and my own heart, thudding rabbit-fast.

I am still holding my dagger. I look at it. It has been my only consistent possession since I was born. The grip is worn perfectly to fit my left hand. The pommel is riverrock smooth from years of nervous polishing. For many long years I was told it was the only useful part of me. The only part worth maintaining.

The blade is sharp.

I smile.

I look up, and the mage still has their hands up. Ready.

"Don't do anything stupid," the mage says.

I laugh.

"Thanks," I say.

And then I plunge the dagger straight into the cobblestones, snapping it in half.

The mage blinks.

"What?"

I rock back onto my heels, placing my palms on my knees.

"You broke my curse! I didn't even know that was possible! You have my eternal gratitude!" I bow.

The mage blinks. "Seriously? Oh. Ooooh." Somehow they suddenly look both more relaxed and more on edge at this news.

"Wait so, you're a-"

"Not anymore!" I chirp. "Or at least not for Them." The endorphin rush of being free to choose suddenly threatens to tip into panic.

With my purpose for existence removed, what should I do?

My contractor is going to be so upset. She's definitely the kind of person who will take this personally.

The mage has granted my dearest most desperate wish, and in doing so they've just become a much higher priority target. Especially if that dispel wasn't a fluke.

I have no idea what expression my face is showing but somehow the mage looks more alarmed than when I was trying to stab them.

"You need a bodyguard," I say.

"What?"

I smile.

"Don't worry, I'm really good at violence."

For some reason the mage doesn't seem to find this reassuring.

Trained from birth as an assassin, your mind was bound by a powerful control spell. Sent to kill an archmage, they cast Dispel to weaken you—accidentally freeing your mind instead. For the first time, your dagger points wherever you choose.

[imnotkaizer]

https://www.tumblr.com/imnotkaizer/781729097143451648/calm-down-abby-eating-you-out-so-good-her?source=share BABY KAII- OMG may we please also get something like this but with paige? It's so good, i am in love 😻

⊹ ࣪ ˖ calm down — paige being pussy drunk, eating you out so good that she starts getting out of control.

dub con. overstim. man handling. face riding.

You straddled Paige’s face, your thighs trembling as you hovered just above her, the heat of her breath already teasing your skin

Her hands, calloused from hours on the court but impossibly gentle, found your hips, guiding you down with a quiet authority that made your pulse race.

Paige’s arms snaked around your thighs, her grip firm and unyielding, pulling you flush against her mouth.

The first touch of her lips was a jolt, a soft, deliberate kiss that sent a spark straight through you.

Then her tongue followed, bold and hungry, tracing slow, languid paths that made your head tip back, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

She didn’t ease you into it she dove in, her mouth relentless, sucking and munching with a fervor that felt like she was trying to consume you whole.

The sounds filled the room the wet, rhythmic pull of her lips, the soft moans vibrating from her throat, and your own gasps, sharp and desperate, as you clung to the headboard for balance.

Paige’s arms tightened, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you in place.

Her strength was a quiet promise, a reminder that you weren’t going anywhere not until she was ready to let you.

Every flick of her tongue, every hard suck on your sensitive core, sent pleasure spiraling through you, building like a storm in your belly.

“Paige-” you gasped, your voice trembling as the heat coiled tighter, your hips rocking instinctively against her mouth.

She hummed, the vibration shooting through you, amplifying every sensation.

Her tongue circled with precision, then flattened, pressing hard, dragging a cry from your lips.

She was insatiable, her lips closing around you, sucking with a pressure that made your vision blur.

The world narrowed to the heat of her mouth, the iron grip of her arms, and the way she devoured you like you were her last meal.

The first orgasm hit like a tidal wave, your body seizing as pleasure crashed over you.

You cried out, your thighs shaking, your hands white knuckling the headboard as you shuddered against her.

The intensity left you breathless, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your bearings.

Instinctively, you lifted your hips, seeking a moment’s reprieve from the overwhelming sensation, your body still buzzing with aftershocks.

But paige was faster.

Her arms tightened, yanking you back down with a strength that stole your breath.

Her fingers dug deeper into your thighs, bruising, possessive, as she pulled you flush against her mouth again.

“Not yet” she whispered, her voice low and rough, muffled against your slick skin.

The words vibrated through you, her lips brushing your oversensitive core as she spoke, sending a fresh jolt of pleasure-pain up your spine.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Her tone was both a command and a plea, laced with a hunger that made your heart stutter.

Before you could respond, her mouth was on you again, fiercer now, her tongue plunging deeper, her lips sucking harder.

The overstimulation was dizzying, a sweet torment that had you squirming, torn between pulling away and pressing closer.

But paige’s grip was unrelenting, her arms a vice around your thighs, holding you exactly where she wanted you.

“Paige, oh God” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the second wave built, faster and sharper than the first.

Your hips bucked, but she held you firm, her tongue relentless, circling and pressing with a rhythm that felt like it was rewriting your pulse.

Her muffled whispers continued, soft and ragged against your skin, each word a vibration that pushed you closer to the edge.

She murmured, her lips grazing you between sucks.

“Give me one more.” The way she said it, her voice thick with want, undid you.

The second climax hit like a lightning strike, your body arching, a raw, keening moan tearing from your throat.

You gripped her hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, anchoring yourself as pleasure ripped through you, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Paige didn’t stop, her mouth working you through every shudder, her tongue lapping with a reverence that made your chest ache.

Even as the waves subsided, she didn’t relent.

Her arms tightened again, her fingers sinking deeper into your thighs as she pulled you closer still, her lips and tongue refusing to break contact.

“Paige” you gasped, half-laughing, half-pleading, your voice hoarse.

“I can’t—”

“You can” she whispered, her breath hot against you, her words punctuated by a slow, deliberate lick that made your hips jerk.

Her eyes, when you glanced down, were dark and molten, locked on you with an intensity that made your heart skip.

She was relentless, her mouth a study in devotion, her grip a silent vow to keep you here, with her, in this moment.

The fairy lights flickered, casting golden flecks across her face, illuminating the sweat on her brow, the fierce focus in her expression.

Your body was hers to command, every nerve singing under her touch, every gasp a testament to her skill.

The overstimulation faded into something else—a hazy, endless pleasure that blurred the edges of the world.

Your hands softened in her hair, stroking now, a quiet surrender as you let her take you apart again and again.

Paige’s whispers grew softer, her voice a low, reverent murmur against you.

“You’re so beautiful” she breathed, her lips brushing your skin between words.

“So fucking perfect.” Each syllable was a spark, reigniting the fire in your core, and you felt yourself falling, not just into pleasure but into her, the way she held you, the way she claimed you, the way she made you feel like the center of her universe.

The night stretched on, the room a blur of heat and shadows, and all you knew was paige—her arms around you, her mouth relentless, and the endless, exquisite unraveling of your body under her touch.

🔖 — @addl0vee @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @paige05bby @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream @gabbyygoo @bravemode @latenighttalkinqwp @avvwritesstufff @prettygirl-gabi @yailtsv @bebitts @heartsforari @usuallyshadowybasement @authentic-girl03 @private-but-not-a-secret @evanpeterstoe @destinybueckers44 @youmeandjennessey @starfulani @cherryswisherz @bueckersworld @paiges-1vur

[shy9-29]

Jake fluff/smut with a partner who’s pregnant and is having body insecurity?

💌: oh my god? I feel like jake would be just the man to take care of his insecure wife in need

tw: pregnancy kink, praise kink, breast play, fingering, creampie, spanking, soft dom Jake, emotional smut, husband!Jake - 1188wc

mdni

—

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed in one of Jake’s oversized shirts, your hands resting protectively on the small swell of your stomach. It’s still early—barely showing—but it’s enough that none of your usual clothes fit quite right anymore. You’ve tried on three outfits and still ended up in this, frustrated and quiet as you sit with your knees tucked up, watching your husband move around the bedroom getting ready for bed.

Jake notices something’s off right away. You’re usually clingy, always touching him, always smiling when he looks at you. But tonight, you’re distant. Silent. His brows furrow slightly.

“Hey,” he says softly, crawling across the bed toward you. “You okay?”

You hesitate. Then you shrug, trying to play it off, but your voice comes out small. “I just… I feel gross.”

Jake stops in front of you, his hands gently cradling your thighs. “Gross?” he repeats. “Why would you ever think that?”

You glance down at your legs, your tummy. “I don’t know. My body’s changing and I… I don’t look the same. I don’t feel the same.”

Jake leans in, pressing a kiss to your knee first, then your thigh. “Baby, you’re literally growing our child,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “I’ve never wanted you more than I do now.”

Your breath catches.

He moves closer, hands sliding under the shirt—his shirt—to rest just beneath your bump. “This,” he says, voice low and reverent, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He looks up at you, eyes warm. “Can I show you how much I love you?”

Jake watches you with soft but hungry eyes, his fingers grazing the hem of your oversized sleep shirt. “Can I take this off?” he murmurs, voice rough but careful.

You hesitate for a beat, fingers curling slightly against your thighs. The bump—your bump—is small, just beginning to show. You’ve been catching your reflection in the mirror more often lately, unsure how to feel. But Jake’s looking at you like you hung the stars.

He catches your hesitation and gently cups your face. “You don’t ever have to hide from me, baby,” he whispers, kissing your forehead. “You’re carrying my baby. That makes you the sexiest woman alive.”

Your breath catches as you let him lift the fabric, his warm palms dragging up your sides slowly, reverently. Your breasts spill out first—slightly heavier, your nipples darker and more sensitive. Jake’s pupils blow wide.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hands cupping your breasts immediately, like he can’t decide whether to worship or devour you. “You’re perfect.”

You open your mouth to argue, to say you don’t feel perfect, not lately—but he shuts you up by closing his lips around one swollen nipple, sucking deep.

“Ah—Jake,” you gasp, hips twitching. His tongue flicks over the sensitive tip before drawing back to blow cool air on it, making you shiver. Then he latches onto the other one, groaning against your skin.

“Love how sensitive you are now,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust. His thumb pinches your left nipple just slightly, rolling it between his fingers. “I could spend hours right here.”

Your thighs press together. The heat is unbearable now, your whole body aching for more.

“Jake,” you whimper. “Touch me more. Please.”

His hands slide down to your hips, fingers trailing teasingly under the band of your underwear. He pulls them down slowly, then leans in and kisses your soft belly.

“You know how crazy it makes me… seeing you like this?” His lips trail lower. “This bump? This is our baby. You made this with me.”

You moan when he slips two fingers through your folds, finding you soaked.

“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he groans. “You want me that bad?”

“Yes,” you whisper, breathless.

He pulls his hand away for just a second, slaps your ass hard enough to sting, and you yelp in surprise, arousal spiking.

“You like that?” he growls, hand kneading the skin afterward. “You’re driving me fucking insane.”

You can’t even respond—you’re too gone. You watch through heavy lids as he pulls his boxers off, cock already hard and leaking at the tip.

When he lines himself up, he pauses, hands resting on your thighs.

“Tell me,” he pants. “You want me to cum inside you?”

You nod quickly, body trembling. “Yes. I want you to fill me up.”

“Fuck, Y/N…” he groans, pushing in slow and deep. Your walls stretch around him, slick and tight, and he curses under his breath.

He grips your hips and starts to move, rocking into you with more urgency now. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and he bends down to suck one into his mouth again, the stimulation making your head fall back.

“S’ tight baby,” he growls. “So perfect for me. You feel this? How deep I am inside you?”

You can only moan, eyes rolling back as he slaps your ass again, then soothes it with a squeeze.

“Say it,” he demands. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out. “I’m yours, Jake—fuck—don’t stop.”

He buries his face in your neck, panting hard, voice breaking.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groans. “Gonna fill you up again. You want that?”

“Yes—yes, please—”

Jake pushes in to the hilt, trembling as he spills inside you, hot and thick. You feel everything—his release, the way his body clings to yours, the way his lips press into your shoulder like he can’t believe you’re real.

When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with both hands, pressing soft kisses over your cheeks, your lips, your bump.

“You’re everything to me,” he says, voice hoarse. “You hear me? Everything.”

[lokisbxtches]

New You

Sylus x thick black reader (anyone can read though)!

Warnings: SMUT, downbad Sylus, reader is a virgin, not good at writing smut, rough sex, no mercy from Sylus, all came from my fantasies in my head about Sylus. Let me know if I miss anything.

Words: 1.4k

A/N: This is part 2 of my story! Like I said before, I am not thick or chubby! I just thought of this because I thought it was cute considering how much Sylus loves squeezing and poking MC. Please let me know if you think it is wrong of me to write this! I don’t want to offend anyone!!! I also wrote this with nails on 😭 so if there are any mistakes, please forgive me and if there’s any lore that sounds wrong, let me know! This isn’t proofread, and I’m using Grammarly to help correct this .. I’m also not the best writer.

Sylus had just got done eating your pussy for the 6th time that night, making you cum back to back with his mouth and fingers, he wasn’t letting up… he wasn’t giving up. He knew you were a virgin so he wanted to prepare you good enough to take his dick—that and because he couldn’t get enough of how your pussy tasted—he was trying to make sure you were ready for what he was about to put down! All that preparation had him fucking his hard-on against the bed to relieve some pressure… It didn’t work. 

“Please, Sy!” You cry out, “No more! I can’t take it!” You begged and pleaded that he’d stop attacking your over-sensitive pussy. You’ve been begging all night, but this time he's finally giving in to your pleas, “I’m just getting you prepared, that’s all.” Surprisingly, he wasn’t out of breath, you, on the other hand, though… You were out of it, breath ragged and mind out of it. “For what?” You breathed out, eyes opening for the first time since he started eating you. 

You both made eye contact, but his eyes were low, and his pupils were completely dilated. He moved his eyes to his hanging cock that was overly leaking with precum, his tip looked like it was going to explode if it didn’t get any release, your eyes followed in pursuit. 

Your eyes damn near bulged out of your head, his dick was huge and angry. You tried moving back, but the headrest stopped you. You were shocked and nervous. 

“It’s not gonna fit,” you say, worried, no way in hell your tight hole would be able to take that. “Oh, but it will,” he says so surely, “no need to be scared, kitten, I’ll take care of you,” he was now stroking his dick at a slow pace, gripping you by your waist to pull you back down, “I’ll go slow,” he whispered to you, breath tickling your ears. 

He pushed his cock into your overly fucked out pussy lips, rubbing it slow and teasingly, you both moaned as he hit your clit, picking up his pace and spreading his arousal all over your lips, your head dropped back on the pillows, and your eyes went crossed at how good the feeling was. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, “you’re so wet, can’t imagine how the inside feels,” he exclaimed. “Please, fuuuck, please let me put it in,” he was begging, trying to hold his composure but your pussy was driving him crazy. He grabbed your face, making you look into his eyes, trying to get you to give in. 

Ultimately, you did, nodding your head, slowly pushed his tip into your hole, you screamed breathlessly, you were hyperventilating… his tip was stretching you so far, “shhh my love,” he said, trying to ease your pain. “Just breathe slowly for me,” he was kissing you now, on your lips, then all over your face. 

You were crying, the pain was overwhelming you, trying to get your breathing straight. He wanted to move so badly, but he knew he couldn’t, so he grabbed your wrists and held them above your head, not knowing he was almost cutting your circulation off because of how tightly he was holding them. 

He slowly pushed his tip in and out, trying to get you used to the feeling. You were a whimpering mess, but you didn’t stop him; you wanted to take it… to get used to it and be able to handle the pain. “Fuck, I-I c-can’t,” he was stuttering, your pussy was squeezing him so good that he couldn’t take it, “I’m gonna bottom out ok? Let me just sink it in and I p-promise I won’t move,” he was practically begging you to let me him stick it in all the way, he wanted to feel all of you and you let him. 

Nodding your head, he let go of your wrist and bear hugged you, “Do it fast, ok?” You asked, tears dripping from your eyes, you wanted to get the pain out of the way—perhaps that wasn’t a good idea—you wrapped your legs and arms around him and he stuffed his head into your neck, whimpering “mhm” shakily as he hurriedly pushed his dick all the way in. 

You screamed out the most blood-curdling scream as you clawed at his back, you started to push at his waist, but to no avail. You were a whimpering and crying mess while he was breathing hard, squeezing you into his body. The way your pussy was tightening around him, he had to bite into something—and that something was your neck—you screamed again pulling at his hair but he didn’t move, he didn’t even flinch. 

You both stayed there for what felt like an hour, you got your breathing under control, and soon the pain started to feel good. Sylus still didn’t move though, he kept his promise and suffered through the torture of what a good pussy like yours felt like. 

“Sy,” you said, still trying to catch your breath, “you can move now.” Sylus let go of your throat—licking it after taking such a deep bite—and looked you in your eyes, trying to make sure he heard you right. After looking into your eyes, you nodded. Sylus took that confirmation and started moving, but at such a slow rate that you both thought you’d die right there. You wanted him to move faster, but didn’t know what to say so you grabbed his ass and pushed him further in, trapping him with your legs. 

That sent Sylus over the edge. He closed his eyes and started picking up the pace. You felt so good, he was losing himself, picking up the speed even more, going faster, harder. All he could focus on was how you felt and how you were making him feel. This was the first time in centuries he’s felt you, and he didn’t know if it was going to be the last, so he sure as hell wasn’t wasting this opportunity. 

He gripped your thick thighs and pushed them to your chest. This new angle had you weeping and shaking, a moaning mess. All you could hear was skin slapping and moaning throughout the room. He was fucking you at a ferocious pace, knocking the wind out of you. 

He was fucking you up the bed, you tried to run but he wasn’t having it, “Stop. Fucking. Running.” After each word, he slammed into you harder more faster. He was growling like a wild animals and fucking you like one too. 

Your bonnet came off, your braids falling around your head, sticking to your sticky skin, but that wasn’t enough for him. 

He used his evol to flip you over, forcing you into a doggy style position. He slammed into you once again, ramming into your tight pussy. He was losing his temper, fucking you like you were nothing, pulling your braids, arching your back into a dangerous position. He was smacking your ass, gripping your plush waist so he could ram into you faster. “Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot how good my sweet little kitten pussy felt.” He was growling, you didn’t comprehend the sentence, you were too fucked out. 

Pushing at his waist to get him to slow down, but didn’t give in. He used his evol again to bind your wrist to your back. “Sylus, please!” You screamed, but he didn’t respond. He was too pussy drunk to hear you. He let go of your hair and proceeded to grab you by your throat with both hand and fuck you even harder. 

You were on the verge of cumming again and he wasn’t letting up, “I’m cumming!” You yelled, you somehow cum and squirted at the same time, pushing Sylus thick dick of out you forcefully. 

He let go of you as you squirted all of over his dick. You fell face first into the pillows as your body twitched, hoping Sylus was done, “damn sweetheart, look at how much of a mess you made.” He said smiling, slapping your pussy, making you squeal. 

He wasn’t finished. He didn’t get to cum yet, pushing his dick into your hole again, you rises again trying to stop him. “I can’t,” you say, trying to move away, “too much,” “but, baby, what about me? Won’t you let me cum too?” He asked, gripping your throat, he was smiling. 

He pushed your head back into the pillows, “I’ll make it quick.” 

That night was long, he continuously filled you up over and over again with his cum and by the time he was done he had you ass up face down with your hole dripping with his nut. He was glad to see you filled up with a part of him inside you. 

Don’t worry, after you both came down, he took good care of you, even though you were passed out by the time he finished with you.

I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing something like this and finishing it.

@mcdepressed290 @kurohoely 

[crimsonvictory]

you’d known better not to trust those Prescott boys. all charmin’ smiles and lies through their teeth. been trouble since grade school. used a pretty thing like you and now you’re payin’ for it. you couldn’t help that you were softhearted. they grew up rough, always scrawny and fightin’ for scraps.

against your mother’s wishes, you would sneak them food, feedin’ wild dogs out of the palm of your hand. you had a knack for tamin’ wild things. always saw the good in everything. they’d took advantage of your kindness, blurrin’ your niceness as a weakness. after your ma and pa were gone, you were by your lonesome in the big house you grew up in. easy target. someone trustworthy such as yourself, wouldn’t mind if they broke in - right?

it had taken you completely by surprise. a pillow being shoved over your face before you could see who it was. you thrashed against the mattress, blindly clawin’ at your attacker. you hit the fucker, a yelp of pain confirming. pushin’ him off, you made a run for it, booking it down the stairs as quickly as you could. what you weren’t ready for was another at the end of the stairs - strong arm wrapping around your waist and tuggin’ you close to his body.

he smelled familiar, something of a past memory. someone you hadn’t seen in years. an old dog you had forgotten about - kicked to the curb when he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

“tommy?!” you screech. “what on earth are you doin’ here?”

“shhh,” he shushes you. “just thought we’d pay you a visit - seein’ you had the room for company and all.”

they weren’t welcome here. they knew that. four rounds of pa’s shotgun had run them off for good. or so you thought.

tommy swings you up and over his shoulder, carrying you over to your ma’s plush chair before sitting you down. there’s a wide piece of leather in his hands, worn down by years of use - molded by restraint.

“no hard feelins’ right?” he asks, sick sweet smile plastered on his face.

his eyes are glassy, teeth chipped. he reeks of alcohol.

“fuck you tommy,” you spit, voice full of hatred.

his smile falters, anger replacing his features as he snatches your wrists, binding them with the worn leather. you yelp, tryin’ to yank your hands away but to no avail. he overpowers you, twirling your hands behind your back and pulls you up on your feet.

“knew you wouldn’t take too kindly,” he spits, tuggin’ you alongside him as he pushes outside.

you try to keep up with his long strides, bein’ near dragged over to his horse.

“where’ya takin’ me?” you huff, chin pointed up defiantly.

tommy’s face twitches up into a grin and it makes your stomach drop. art isn’t far behind, satchel bulgin’ with your family heirlooms as he runs out of your french doors and down the wooden steps. he’s up on his horse and speedin’ off faster than you can open your mouth to speak.

you’re yanked forward, tugged up and thrown over tommy’s horse, clenchin’ your limbs close to hold on. the ride is bumpy, scenery blurrin’ by as you ride out further into the desert. your cheek lays against the horses flank, tears burnin’ in your eyes.

when the horses slow, you’re suddenly yanked upright, the change in position makin’ your head spin. you catch sight of the thick wooden tracks below you - stomach clenchin’ in terror.

“now tommy,” you gulp. “art. we can talk this out.”

both men laugh, wild hyenas barkin’ in the face of a gazelle. trapped. you have nowhere to run.

“there’ll be no talkin’. except you with god. hopin’ he’ll hear ‘ya,” art spits.

tommy yanks you down off of the horse, your feet stumblin’ to catch your weight. he drags you by your arm, pushin’ you roughly down to your knees.

“i was nothin’ but good to you boys,” you bargain, eyes dartin’ between the both of them.

art laughs, saunterin’ up to you, spurs kickin’ up the baked clay of the earth. he squats down, hat tipped down to cover his eyes.

“you fed us. and kicked us to the curb. bait to the wolves. that doesn’t sound very nice to us,” he smarts.

“i-i can give you more. i didn’t want to kick you out-.” your voice wobblin’ you try your best to plead.

“liar,” tommy snarls, pushin’ you down on the splintered tracks.

your chest heaves, eyes goin’ wide. “tommy, honey. you can’t do this.”

“like hell i can’t,” he sneers.

“please-,” you plead, writhin’ against your restraints against the track.

“so nice to catch up. thanks for the deed, hon,” art drawls.

in the distance, you hear a familiar sound. a train. oh fuck. the men start to walk away, spurs clickin’ into the horses sides as they gallop away.

oh fuck. oh fuck oh fuck.

you scream yourself hoarse. prayin’ to god. someone. anyone who would hear you. writhin’ against your restraints, you struggle to free yourself. you don’t know if you’re going crazy in the heat of the sun, but you swear the train sounds closer. you panic, sweat drippin’ down your temple and poolin’ at your back. you were done for. tried too hard to tame the wild side.

you sob, everythin’ you know is gone. house pillaged, deed gone. all you have are the clothes on your back. the train’s getting closer, the tracks faintly startin’ to rumble. your lip quivers. you’re done for.

that is - until you hear the twinkle of spurs. your eyes squint in the afternoon heat, a mirage of a man, hazy in the distance. he smooths out soon enough, tall, broad, dark hat and red bandana covering the lower half of his face. horse dark as midnight - a contrast to the blazin’ desert sun.

he takes his time, moseying his way up to your tremblin’ form. horse huffin’ in annoyance as he stops. turnin’ to look at you, the brim of his hat coverin’ his eyes. he’s dressed in all black, glints of metal from his buttons flickerin’ against the sky. golden bolo tie catchin’ your attention. his gloved hands clench against his side. deep voice havin’ a hint of mockery as he asks,

“what’re ye doin’ all tied up, doe?”

—

to be continued?

western au but someone robbed you and then left you tied up on the train tracks. you can hear the train about a mile away and you’re terrified that this is it until some cocky, smarmy cowboy trots past on his horse and says “what’re ye doin all tied up, doe?”

[zionzael]

Please I need a mafia sevika fic, something like forced marriage and sevika is overprotective of her wife 🥺 maybe angst? Maybe not

YOU'RE PERFECT

WARNING: mentions of body dysmorphia, use of Y/N, insecurities, gangs, angst, fluff

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, tears welling up in your eyes when you see the rolls on your stomach. You bit your trembling bottom lip and pinched the flesh too hard that you winced, your skin turning red.

You had indulged in your cravings again. You treated yourself for working so hard on your novel. Spending almost two years writing and editing it until it got published last week.

Your wife, Sevika, was so proud. She was filled with joy so much that she brought home sweets from the bakery you loved every time she got home.

"This is so fucking unfair." you whispered. It was unfair, really. Because why could people eat thrice their weight and still stay in shape? But here you are, almost starving yourself to death just to lose weight only to gain all of it plus a hundred pounds back.

The front door opened and you quickly wiped away your tears and brushed your hair with your fingers in an attempt to hide your previous crash out. You put on your shirt that's twice your size and strode out of the bedroom and into the living room, seeing Sevika put down another box of donuts on the counter.

A lump formed inside your throat and your eyes flicked up to Sevika's face, seeing her already looking at you with a smile.

"There's my beautiful angel. I brought home donuts. They're from that little bakery you like." she wiggled her eyebrows as she stepped closer to you.

You forced out a smile and swallowed, your gaze shifting between the box and Sevika's eyes. She noticed that and immediately snaked her arms around your waist, your body tensing when you felt it on your stomach. "What's wrong, angel face?"

"Huh? N-nothing. I'm just tired, you know? From all the editing and stuff." Sevika's eyebrow quirked, but she didn't push. One thing about Sevika is that she would never force you to tell her stuff unless you want to. She'll wait for you to come her when you're ready and she'd be all ears, her schedule would already be cleared out just to be there for you.

And you're thankful for that.

"Alright, baby. How about we eat the donuts while we watch your favourite movie?" she leaned down and pressed kisses on your jaw down to your neck. You nodded and squirmed when you felt the tip of her tongue draw circles on your skin. "Sevi.." you whined and pushed her away gently.

She chuckled and placed her hands under your arms before picking you up with ease, your legs instantly wrapping around her waist. "You're perfect." she whispered. Perfect that's what she always calls you. You find it hard to believe? You? Perfect? It never sat right with you. But you never told her that.

Sevika walked towards the giant living room furnished with luxurious items, some of your paintings hung on the wall. She sat you down on the couch and left to get the box of donuts before quickly going back to the living room. She sat it down on the coffee table, opened it, and took two pieces with different flavours.

"Here, baby." she smiled and handed you the donut. You smiled back and muttered a thank you as you took it in your hands.

Sevika took a bite out of hers, eyes rolling back when she chewed on the flavourful donut. "Fuck, this just gave me an orgasm." she chuckled and swallowed the food. She looked at you, noticing how you were only staring at the donut as if it were a bomb. Ready to explode in any second.

She bit the insides of her cheeks, sensing that there's something you didn't wanna tell her. But again, she didn't push it.

"Baby." she called out, trying to get your attention. Your head snapped up, brows raised. "Yeah?"

"I've got a meeting in an hour. How about you come with me?" she blurted as she pulled you closer to her.

You gasped, eyes widening at the question. Sevika had never asked you to come with her to meetings. In fact, it was you who always begged for her to let you come along.

"Really?" Sevika nodded, a chuckle escaping her mouth at your reaction. "Yeah. I wouldn't want to get bored waiting for me here."

"I would love to!"

You and Sevika arrived at the building, her partner's headquarters, where they usually hold their meetings. Sevika opened the car's door for you and you stepped out, her flesh hand blocking your head.

You looked up at the large building's interior for a moment before Sevika's hand took yours and led you inside. You felt nervous, beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead. You didn't know how to act, what to do, how to move when you meet this partner of hers.

"Baby." she called out, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Hmm?" you looked up at her. "Stay close to me when we get there. Don't talk unless you're spoken to. You can explore the room but make sure that you're where I could see you. Got it?" you nodded and smiled. "Okay."

"Good. It's not just me and my partner alone during meetings. There are other people there. Arrogant, ugly, mean, they reek." Sevika scrunched up her face and you chuckle, seeing the wrinkles become visible when she acted disgusted.

"I think you're the one who's mean." you poked her side and she rolled her eyes at you, her tongue sticking out and nose scrunching. "Don't care."

You shook your head and giggled at her. She's seen as evil and scary by everyone, but in your eyes—she's just an oversized baby.

The two of you arrived at the meeting room, one of Sevika's bodyguards opening the large doors. She stepped in first, you trailing behind with your fingers still intertwined with hers.

Your eyes scanned the room and they landed on a blonde woman whose hair has green streaks. Your mouth opened, her face was covered in black makeup, piercings scattered on her face. Her figure is impeccable, waist so small you couldn't even see it because of her black dress. She looked younger. Way younger than you.

You felt that feeling again. That insecurity that has always been inside you. It's a part of you now. Attacking you behind your back at any moment. You felt so small.

The woman looked up at the both of you, but her gaze immediately went to Sevika. She let out a gasp and got up from her chair, arms open as she strode towards your wife. "Sevika! Hey, my love."

Your eye twitched. Love? Since when has she been calling your wife love? You glanced at Sevika, seeing her flash out a smile. The one that doesn't reach her eyes. An awkward smile.

You let go of her hand and she snapped her head towards you, brows creasing in worry. But before she could let out a word, the woman cut her off. "Ooh. Who's this?"

Your wife studied your face for a moment before turning back to the woman. "This is my wife. Y/N." she smiled, her hand finding its way back to yours. "Baby, this is Margot. My partner."

The edge of your lips curled up in an attempt to smile and you reached out your hand to shake hers. "Hey, nice to meet you."

"It's so nice to meet you too. Janna, you're gorgeous!" she cheeked. You chewed on the insides of your cheeks, insecurity and guilt gnawing at your system.

You're pretty too. Way prettier than me. You thought as you eyed Margot from head to toe. You could never dress like her, not with how you look. You always wear heavy t-shirts or boring dresses that look like they were made for pregnant women, while she dresses like that. With pretty clothes that hug her curves. Nothing could hug your curves.

Sevika noticed how you've gone quiet and she softly squeezed your hand, snapping you out of your trance. You glanced at her, only to be met by a worried look in her eyes. A sigh escapes your mouth and you turned to face Margot again. "You're beautiful, too." was all you said. And you wanted to disappear right then and there at how meek you sounded.

"Thank you, you're so sweet." the other woman chuckled. Sevika decided to join in, sensing your embarassment. "Should we start the meeting?" Margot looked up at your wife and clicked her tongue. "Oh yeah, the others are coming in any moment now."

And she was right. The moment that the three of you sat down, men with such intimidating auras entered the room. You felt nervous and scooted over to Sevika, trying to feel her warmth and seek comfort. Your wife only snaked her flesh arm around you without saying a word, her thumb rubbing on your clothed flesh as if telling you that you're safe.

Minutes have gone by and you witnessed the way Sevika and Margot seemed to be so close. The blonde would always caress your wife's arm, chuckle at her jokes that weren't even funny, or just look at her like she's the only person in the room besides her.

Sevika had said something that you couldn't comprehend, your mind too busy running with thoughts that are slowly destroying you. You only heard Margot. "You're so funny, Sevi!"

Sevi. She's never allowed anyone to call her Sevi before. You're the only one who has thee privilege to call her that. Without noticing it, you scowled. Eyes glaring daggers at Margot and you scooted back, your chair a few inches away from Sevika.

Your wife's head snapped towards you, her smile dropping when she saw the distance you've created between the two of you. Her brows furrowed, eyes studying you and seeing the look of hurt and disapproval on your face.

She raised her brows, silently asking you what's wrong. You only shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. You were thinking so many bad thoughts. Maybe Sevika's cheating on you. Maybe she preferred Margot over you. Maybe she found her way more beautiful and attractive than you. Maybe you let yourself go.

"We'll continue the meeting another time. My wife's not feeling well." Sevika's voice echoed through the room, and you looked up at her in surprise.

No. You ruined it.

She glanced down at you and gently pulled you up from your seat. "I'm sorry and thank you for your time. But I gotta take care of this beauty right here first." she joked, but you could tell there was something on her mind too.

Margot smiled at you, "You alright, Y/N?"

You nodded, "Yeah."

The both of you bid your goodbyes and your wife apologised again to the other people in the room before you stepped out of the room and the building completely. She led you to the car and drove away in pure silence.

Once you entered the comfort of your home, Sevika picked you up in her arms and walked to the living room where she sat you down on the couch.

"Alright, angel face. You've been acting weird since I got home and I cannot take it anymore. Tell me what's wrong." she kneeled down infront of you, her voice stern but laced with worry.

Your tears started to pool in your eyes again, feeling the sudden pressure and guilt weighing down on you.

"Nothing's wrong.." you stuttered, voice wavering. Sevika just gave you a look as if telling you I'm not dumb. I know something's going on.

"Doll. Tell me. Please?" she pleaded and you sighed. You hated hearing her plead.

"It's just.. don't you think I've gotten ugly? That I let myself go?" you squeaked.

Sevika gasped, mouth and eyes wide open at your words. She shook her head, so hard that it almost separated from her neck. "What are you talking about?!" she frowned, voice surprised and hurt.

"I have stomach rolls, Sevika. I'm disgusting. I can't even stop myself from eating. And you seem to like Margot a lot." you looked away when you said the sentence and she felt her heart drop. She gazed up at you, brows creasing and eyes squinting.

She sighed, looked down, and looked back up at you. "I hate when you call yourself disgusting. That you ever think you've let yourself go. I don't allow anyone call my wife any of the things that you call yourself."

You chewed on your bottom lip and figeted with your hands. You feltd bad, but you could never sleep peacefully at night with your own thoughts eating you alive. "You let Margot call you Sevi.." you meeked.

Your wife sighed, sensing your insecurity and felt responsible for it. She got up, and for a moment—you thought she was going to walk away from you because she's too tired of your bullshit. But she didn't. She stayed and sat beside you, her eyes filled with hurt and guilt. Just like yours.

"Margot is my partner. I need her as a partner not only to get a load shit of my money from the companies, but also because she provides us security. You married someone whose life is dangerous. And I need to protect you. You're the only thing in this world worth loving and protecting," she paused, looking deep into your eyes.

Her flesh hand reached out to cup the side of your face, her thumb wiping away the tears that threatened to fall.

"No matter what she calls me, how she looks at me, how she touches me—you're still my wife. Nothing's going to ever change that. You're beautiful. I don't care if you'e gained weight. More for me to grab, right?" she chuckled to lighten up the mood and you did too, her reassuring words helping with the storm going inside your head.

She sighed and caressed your face, "You're my wife. In all timelines, in all possibilities—you can only love me like this." she smiled and leaned down to kiss you, her lips lingering on yours way too longer for a peck before she pulled away.

"What do I always tell you?" she asked and you looked up at her with love, your heart beating so fast in adoration.

"I'm perfect." you smiled and Sevika gave you the biggest grin she's ever shown you.

"That's right. You're perfect."

[silksandcravats]

Hitting the books - Dean x Reader

When it comes to research duties, you and Dean are equally (ir)responsible.

Contents: Dean x fem!reader, piv sex, poor sammy hearing more than he would like, slight dom!dean x sub!reader undertones, reader and dean having zero self restraint

In Sam's opinion, the two of you shouldn't have been allowed to do the research in the first place. The case had dragged along longer than expected, you'd misidentified the creature tormenting the town, and now more fieldwork and research were required.

When Dean proposed that he return to the motel with you while Sammy poked around and interviewed a few more locals, he'd been met with one hell of an eye roll. You thought it was a great idea, Sam, not so much. Probably because he knew you'd end up in this exact position.

True, Dean was at the motel desk, and there was an old lore book cracked open on the table, but it was hard to read with your naked body bent directly over it.

Not to mention your warm, perfect little cunt swallowing him whole, little whines and pants slipping from your mouth as your hips tried to push back to meet his thrusts. Somehow, his tip seemed to be knocking deeper in you with each thrust, brushing against your cervix.

Fatigue and want battled for control of your body, the muscles in your thighs burned, your hips were bruising from slamming against the edge of the desk, and your pelvis ached from where it met his again and again, but it just felt so damn good.

Your forehead dropped against the cool wood of the desk, and you panted, gripping tightly to the edge the way he’d told you to when he first bent you over the surface.

You felt him shift, leaning over you, his hard, solid front pressing against your back. He left a line of sloppy, open mouth kisses along your shoulder before he spoke.

"You gonna touch that pretty little clit or should I?" He murmured, turning to nose against your temple.

"No, too much," you shook your head against the table. He tsked in disagreement.

You were already completely consumed by the feeling of him fucking you, the desk had you at the perfect angle, allowing him to rock even deeper into you than normal. The pleasure of it all was plenty, you didn’t need anything else, couldn’t take anything else.

But he didn’t seem to think so as hand slipped between your bodies. There was barely enough room for his fingers to brush against your swollen bundle of nerves, but Dean had a talent when it came to touching.

You gasped at the contact, you would've launched yourself forward if there was anywhere at all for you to go.

"Getting ready to come for me now, aren't you?"

You didn't have to see his face to know he was grinning, you were giving him the perfect view and he was absolutely eating up how you were crumbling beneath him.

"Mhmm," was all the response you could manage, practically cockdrunk.

Suddenly, his phone on the desk buzzed, both your heads snapping toward the interruption. Dean's hand left your waist, slowing his thrusts as he reached for the offending distraction.

He swore as he recognized the caller ID, looking around the room quickly.

Conveniently, his boxers had ended up on the desk. He grabbed them, balled them up loosely, and shoved them between your slightly parted lips before you could even register what was happening.

You made a noise of protest against the fabric, eyes wide.

Before you could try to spit the makeshift gag out, his hand clamped over your mouth firmly.

“That comes out you’ll be sorry.”

It was ridiculous if you asked him. You'd greedily take his whole cock in your mouth any time of day without complaint, but the fabric that it touched was where you drew the line?

"Not a damn sound, understand?" He warned, moving his hand away slowly.

You made another muffled noise of dissatisfaction but nodded as he flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear.

"Hey Sammy, what'd you find?" His voice suddenly perfectly casual as he answered the phone.

He cocked his shoulder upward, allowing him to hold the device secured between his ear and his shoulder. With both hands now free, he grasped your hips, pulling you back from the desk slightly before resuming his previous pace, rocking into you again without warning.

You squeaked loudly against the fabric, earning a rough pinch to the side of your thigh in reprimand.

"Uh-huh, right, " he answered, carrying on a full-blown conversation as he continued to fuck you against the desk.

One part of you felt mortified about how much more aroused the current circumstances were making you feel. Dean speaking so casually with his brother, who had no idea you were getting fucked right below him. It was fucking hot.

Another part of you felt it was unfair that you were practically falling apart while he remained calm and collected.

Deciding to play dirty, you grinded back against him, trying to take charge of the speed. However, this was easily thwarted as his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging harshly into your skin and stalling your movements.

You pressed yourself up slightly, turning to look back at him innocently, batting your lashes. He shot you a hard glare, shaking his head at you in response.

Not willing to give up, you changed tactics, waiting until he was fully sheathed inside you, then clenching tightly around him.

"Shit," he hissed directly into the phone, unable to stop himself. He grasped the back of your neck, shoving your face down against the wood in response.

His voice was almost even when he spoke again, giving some half-ass excuse to his brother as he began pistoning in and out of you faster.

You let out a broken moan, struggling to adjust to his quickened pace.

The desk was creaking beneath you with every thrust now. You squirmed slightly, you weren't even touching yourself, but you didn't have to, you were going to come just like this.

Dean, who knew you body better than anyone, could tell you were close, and just when you thought he couldn't possibly fuck you any deeper he lifted your hips slightly, dragging you up to your tiptoes so he had you at just the right angle.

From the new position he could knock just the right spot inside of you, hitting so deep you could practically feel him in your throat.

Moments later you were coming, the balled up boxers you were now basically drooling around doing a terrible job of muting your screams of bliss.

As your orgasm finished rolling through you, he lowered you down, allowing your feet to rest flat on the floor again, his thrusts slowed but didn't stop. Your head was already feeling hazy, but you knew that wouldn't be your last orgasm of the night.

What you didn't hear above you was Sam's tired voice scoff into the phone.

"Dude, next time you're fucking your girlfriend just don't answer, I can hear everything,"

Dean offered some insincere apology in response before ending the call quickly and tossing his phone back on the desk. He grasped the back of your hair and pulled you to stand against him.

"Well, I hope you're happy sweetheart, you traumatized Sammy."

[paracosm-draw]

You wanted a kiss prompt? Here I come and deliver: “a desperate kiss in the rain, soaked and shaking, not sure if it’s joy or grief or both.”

Oh YESSSS thank you, I love kisses in the rain, perfect for these two drama queens 🔥 I hope it'll be to your satisfaction, I enjoyed writing it 😌

---

“Obi-Wan went to the Chancellor’s office.” “Alone. He’s alone.” “He’s going to arrest him.” “The Chancellor’s a Sith.” 

The Chancellor’s a Sith. 

Anakin can’t wrap his head around the information. It feels wrong. Impossible. Inconceivable. It feels like a nightmare. A nightmare that goes on and on as he learns more about the situation along the way. 

The Council kept him away on purpose. Because he was compromised. Considered too close to Sheev Palpatine - Darth Sidious - to be put in the confidence. The betrayal tastes like blood in his mouth. But it’s not betrayal that leads his steps to the nearest hangar bay ; it’s anger. Cold rage blurring the edges of his vision and which would make him ignite his lightsaber at anyone trying to stop him. 

They sent Obi-Wan alone. To defeat a Sith. Why ? Anakin knows why. Cowards, all of them. 

If Palpatine was able to keep the truth from Anakin for so long, what else was he capable of ? Obi-Wan could be dead for all he knows. The thought sends a wave of nausea up his throat. No. Obi-Wan survived a Sith once, when he was only a Padawan. He can survive until Anakin gets there. He has to.

His eyes are scanning the platform for a transport ready to fly when a hand lands on his shoulder. 

“General.” 

He jolts around, hand already on the hilt of his lightsaber, thumb on the ignition, only to be faced with his Captain, bare faced, out of breath and visibly worried. He might have ran to get there, to stop him- 

“Back off, Rex.” He barks. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Rex shakes his head and tilts his head to the platform. He doesn’t try to stop him, instead he gets straight to the point. Anakin appreciates him for that. 

“There’s a shuttle incoming from the Senate. Unidentified passengers.” 

Anakin turns to the platform. Outside, the Coruscanti sky splits in half, thunder rambling deep above their head, echoing what he feels inside. Then the rain starts to pour. 

“Do you think-” 

“We must be prepared for every possibility.” Rex answers, putting his helmet back on. “I’ve got squads on their way to the Temple. The Council has been warned.” 

Anakin snarls at the words. He won’t be needing the Council’s help. If Darth Sidious is the one stepping off that ship, it will mean that Obi-Wan is dead and then, then Anakin no longer answers for his actions. 

He steps outside as the shuttle lands on the platform, lightsaber buzzing and whistling under the downpour, ready to taste blood. 

His heart is pounding in his chest, in his ears, down to the tip of his fingers. There’s no clarity, no peace before combat, only the drumming of his blood inside of his head, the anger swelling up in his belly for him to feed on. He springs into action as soon as the ramp of the ship touches the ground. 

He spots the corner of a dark robe, caught in the wind outside. His throat tightens. 

And then. 

Then, Obi-Wan comes down the ramp, alone. Bloody and bruised but alive. Anakin’s lightsaber clatters to the wet ground as he runs to him, all anger, all rage abandoned as relief washes over him. 

“Obi-Wan !” 

The Jedi looks a bit disoriented, limping down to the platform but he raises his head when he hears his voice through the storm. He just has time to open his arms and Anakin crashes into him.

“Obi-Wan…” 

He wants to say so much more but the words stay stuck in his throat. It’s a broken sob that escapes instead, bearing all his fear and confusion and helplessness. As he hides his face into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck, gentle hands come to rest on his hair, pushing wet strands from his forehead and cheeks. Obi-Wan sighs then, and presses his mouth against the shell of his ear. 

“It’s over, Anakin. Everything’s alright now, love.” 

Anakin shivers and lets out a wet noise, pulling away just enough to search Obi-Wan’s face. 

“Is it true…? What they say about him being- being a Sith ?” 

Obi-Wan nods curtly, once. He gently cups Anakin's face and holds it, eyes in his eyes. They’re the same color as the storm, Anakin thinks. 

“The Chancellor is dead.” Obi-Wan says quietly. “He’ll never get to use you ever again.” 

And then, he kisses him. He kisses him under the pouring rain, he kisses him in the middle of the platform where everyone can see and Anakin couldn't care less. If Obi-Wan wants the whole galaxy to know, there’s nothing left to stop Anakin from loving him like he’d always wanted to. 

He grabs the collar of this robe and pulls him closer, pressing his mouth against his with a desperate abandon. Obi-Wan slips a hand behind his neck and squeezes, making him gasp and melt a little bit more against his body. He pushes his tongue against Obi-Wan's lips and invades his mouth as soon as he leaves an opening, making him groan and wrap an arm around his waist to pull him even impossibly closer. They're soaking wet, raindrops running down their faces, mixing with Anakin's tears and seeping under their layers, weighing down their clothes. 

Neither of them seem to care, and even less of the audience that has formed on the platform. The only thing that matters is that they get to feel each other until they’re both sure that they're safe. 

It takes a little while. Anakin doesn’t want to stop kissing him, now that he can, and Obi-Wan hasn't decided to let go of the hold he has on him. It’s when Anakin moans a little too loud at his curls being pulled that Obi-Wan finally breaks the kiss with a chuckle. 

“You’d better keep that for the bedroom, darling.” He says with a smirk, and kisses Anakin’s pout before it can even form on his lips. 

“Bedroom, now.” Anakin mutters back, slipping a hand under Obi-Wan’s robe to press his palm on the large plane of his back. "Please."

Obi-Wan chuckles again and pulls slightly away from the warmth of his body to give a look to their audience.

“Unfortunately, I think I have a report to give first.” He sighs. 

Anakin scowls and cups his cheek with his other hand, bringing his attention back on him. 

“They’re going to keep you away from me. Again.” 

Obi-Wan smiles, gently and confidently. He turns his head slightly to kiss the inside of his palm. 

“I won’t let them. Never again.” 

[iidesxreii]

Fire, meet Medicine - E. Buckley

╔ Pairing: Evan Buckley x Plus Size!Black!Doctor!Reader

☆ Word Count: 3.2k

☆ Category: Fluff (near the end)/SMUT! (18+ YOU HAVE BEEN FOREWARNED)

☆ Summary: You find yourself at a halloween party with one particular person fighting to get your attention. And when he does, all hell breaks loose.

☆ Content: First meet, makeout, SMUT!!!!

╚ A/N: Since my first fic did so well (in my opinion) I guess I'm gonna keep going with posting my drafts. I have about 4 drafts that can be tied into this so I'm going to call this a series and just go through with posting these on Wednesdays. I'll post regular fics on Saturdays instead. This is written with a plus size, black female character in mind. I don't see a lot of Black!reader fics let alone PlusSize!reader fics so I decided to make one for myself as it is my ethnicity. At some point it will be VERY known, but hopefully it doesn't bother any of you! ALSO!! I know my smut scenes suck, I'm trying and working on them to get better. If you have ANY tips, and I mean ANY, please send them in or message me about it so I can get better. Literally anything to make my fics better helps.

As always, even if you hate it, let me know. constructive criticism is always welcome when it comes to my writing.

═══════ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ｡･ ═══════

You check your outfit over once more before turning in the mirror and making sure your modesty is still intact. It was halloween and you were finishing up your outfit. Which consisted of a small green dress, some wings you found last minute and a whole lot of glitter. You flattened out your dress before grabbing the clutch you had packed before you started getting ready. It had all of the normal necessities. A card holder, keys, lip gloss, makeup wipe, compact mirror, a stain remover stick and a miniature deodorant. You grabbed your phone off the charger and checked the time. The party you were attending was across town and had started at 10. You on the other hand hadn’t gotten off your shift until 11 and rushed to get ready as quickly as possible. You knew the party wasn’t going to end soon since it was an LA party, but you still wanted some time to mingle about. 

You make your way down the stairs of your loft and into your living room area to check on your dog. Cerberus was fully capable of protecting the apartment while you were gone, but you always made sure to check on him before leaving. Your heels click against the hardwood as you walk over to your dog and rub your hand against his head. He makes a little sound which has you poking your bottom lip out. You almost cave in and say fuck the halloween party. You could have your own. You, Cerberus and a bucket of candy from the store. You sigh and shake your head before heading into the kitchen. You check his automatic bowls before peeking back at him in his bed. You blink a few times before making your way to the door and heading out, locking the door behind you.

You put in for a rideshare and make your way down to the lobby. The rideshare app dinged and you were donned with a wait time of 3 minutes. You shuffled a bit as you felt the eyes of your doorman on you. Connor was nice, you spoke to him every once in a while but not like you spoke to Fredrick. Frederick was your favorite, he treated you like his own daughter. Asking about your residence at the hospital and making sure you were taking care of yourself. You spoke to him every morning and you were sure you wouldn’t miss another chat tomorrow morning. Maybe you’d bring him a coffee. Before long your phone is pinging and letting you know your ride was outside. You make your way outside and get into the car. Immediately your trek starts and you’re on your way.

You walk into the house of your friend who was hosting the party and sca around for her. You wanted to say hi before heading anywhere else. The minute you walked through the door boys looked your way. Some approached but others just watched, you could feel their eyes digging into you. Before long you find your friend and give a hug before thanking her for the invite.

“You look so good! I’m so glad you could make it. Hopefully residency isn’t so bad?” Your friend, Emara, gave you a hug before looking you over once. Emara was your dorm mate in med school. You guys clicked almost immediately and clicked even better when she found out you were 2 years younger than the preconceived notion she had placed on you. She wasn’t aware she was bunking with a ‘literal genius’. Her words, not yours.

“It’s just as I expected! How is yours?” You look over her costume and smile. She was of course dressed as a sexy nurse. She was waiting for residency before she pulled out all the stops. She was waiting for the chance to actually drop the bomb that she was a doctor.

“Calmer than North Med! Enjoy the party and the hotties! We’ll have to catch up later on!” She turns and heads off into a crowd with a handful of shots in her hands. You turn towards the makeshift bar and pour yourself something to drink. You turn around and lean on it before noticing the lovely, and very hot, man dressed as Robin. He had his eyes on you, and you were attempting to ignore him. You turn away from him and make your way deeper into the crowd and away from his eyes. A good 15 minutes later you find yourself talking to a girl that was also a student at your med school. Though you had never formally met her, you were excited to talk to her. You had also managed to avoid the blonde haired boy pretty nicely. Ever since the encounter 15 minutes ago he’s been trying to get to you, but you wanted to play the long game first. 

You hadn’t let yourself experience a relationship in a while seeing as you were always busy with schooling, then med school came around, and then residency. You had no time for a relationship back then, or right now. But you could have fun in the meantime. You turned to the girl and said you were going to grab a drink and heeded off towards the counter. You stopped to grab another drink and managed to slip away to the backyard as you noticed the guy coming your way. You stayed hidden from him for a while before you caught him coming at me from a little ways away. You tried to hold back a smile before turning to him as he approached you. He stopped right next to you and made no effort to speak to you just yet. You sipped your drink and checked the time on your phone that you had pulled out of your clutch when you were getting that other girl’s number. 1:38. It wasn’t like you had work tomorrow, but you still wanted to be in bed by a certain time. 

“Are you playing a game with me?” The guy turned to you ever so slightly and you giggled into the cup that was at your lips. You peeked at him for a second before taking another sip of your drink and turning to him fully.

“It’s my first night out in like a couple months. I just wanted to have a little fun is all.” He drank the rest of his drink and he sat it down somewhere. He turned back to you and asked a question. 

“And why did you choose me to play it with?” You looked up into his eyes. He was taller than you expected and you kinda liked that. He had a birthmark above his eye, he smelled like alcohol and it was mixing with something so good. You couldn’t explain it. It smelled like something You needed in your apartment all the time. If you were being honest, you wanted him in your apartment all the time. The things you’d do if you had his scent near you all the time. Wait…no. 

“I dunno. You were cute. And you caught my eye.” He shook his head and let out a low chuckle. It riveted into your brain and straight through you. It was hot, fuck that, it was sexy. You loved the sound. And you wanted to hear it again and again and again.

“Ah. Cat and mouse. Which one am I?” You let out a giggle and shook your head. He had a point. But you weren’t sure which one he was. You bit your lip and scanned his body, you didn’t know if this was the alcohol talking or if you genuinely thought this, but why were you running from someone as sexy as him? Instead of running you should’ve been getting your payback for the last few months. You were in desperate need and you had finally found something that appealed to you as much as your vibrator did. 

“What’s your name?” was what came out of your mouth. You watched confusion pass by his face before his answer slipped out of his mouth with a quickness. 

“Buck.” You raised your eyebrows at that answer. Who names their kid Buck? But like he read your mind he continues. “It’s a nickname. I-it’s my last name. Evan Buckley…hence the Buck…” You shook your head and smiled as you extended your hand. You think it was the alcohol hitting. Whatever you mixed in those few cups were coming back to bite you in the ass.

“(Y/N), nice to meet you Buck…but I have a proposition.” He made a face and you assumed he was listening. You placed both hands onto his shoulder, and leaned up to his ear. You were close enough to whisper but not to get lip gloss on it. “I’m not going to lie, this could definitely be the alcohol talking but, I’ve never met someone who appealed to me as much as my vibrator did. And I’d kill to have her right now. So instead, how about we get one more cup of whatever it is they have in that kitchen, get shit faced and make our way to the bathroom. That way, I get what I've been needing for 9 months, and you can learn my last name.” You leaned back onto your feet and winked at him. He easily grabbed your hand and beelined his way to the kitchen area. You both grabbed a cup each, and downed it in that same second. Then you made a direct line for a bathroom. You both make it to a bathroom and the minute the door closes your back is pressed against the door with his hands running all over your body. His hands felt so good running over your body, everything felt surreal. This is exactly what you needed in your life. Or at least right now at this moment. 

He pulled away for a second and instead went into your neck. Sucking, licking, soft kisses, all of it was pushing you to the edge. His hands found your ass and gripped it tightly, which made you moan. In turn, you rake your hands down his back and he almost growls in your ear. He pulled away from your neck and quickly lifted you onto the bathroom counter. The feeling of the cold counter threw you off for a second making you gasp and arch your back. He took this as an opening and pushed his way in between your legs. He began rubbing your thigh with one hand and dipped his head back to meet your lips in a kiss. You felt him grind against you and your eyes almost rolled out of your head. There was a knock at the door and you both ignored it. You wanted this. You needed this. Nobody could stop you from going through with this right now. Then there was another knock. And another and another and another. It was constant at this point, and you knew it was only going to get worse. You pushed him back a bit before checking your phone. 2:10.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

By 2:27 Buck has you pushed up against his door and is trying to unlock it to no avail. You release him and he grumbles as you step to the side to allow him to unlock the door properly. You were sure that if he didn’t get the door unlocked he was going to have you in any way in the hallway of his apartment building. The lock clicks smoothly and Buck opens the door before bringing you in. Before you can get a look around you’re tugged into him and he’s picking you up with ease. Before you know it you’re being tossed onto a bed.

“Are you sure about this?” Buck is standing over you and your mind is anywhere but vanilla. You watch as he takes his shirt off and you almost pass out from how good he looks. Instead of marveling like you want to, you find his eyes again and smile.

“Thinking I’m going to change my mind Buckley?” You’re perched up on your elbows and Buck is eyeing you up from head to toe. You watch as his eyes darken and his pupils dilate before they find yours.

“I’m all about consent.” His smile is shit eating and you almost find it funny. He leans down and places both hands on the bottom of the bed. He’s leaned over almost primal looking. He’s cute, what else can he do?

“That’s hot.” you mean it towards him, but the consensual part is just as hot. You bite your bottom lip and motion for him to come to you. He crawls up the bed and you find it in you to take off the dress you’re wearing. As the dress passes your eyes you find Buck sitting back on his ankles undoing your heels. He takes one off, and then moves to the other. Your heels are soon discarded along with your dress and wings. His pants soon find a home on the floor with your costume and you both are back to kissing. His kisses trail down the valley of your breast, over your belly button and to the top of your underwear. He looks at you before watching for any type of wavering. When you nod he drags your underwear down and is faced with your soaking cunt. He all but groans as he licks a tender stirpe up your center. You shudder and reach for his hair. As you come in contact with his locks he dives into you licking recklessly. Sucking, licking, hot breaths passing your sensitive bud. Everything feels much better than you could’ve imagined. He hums something and your back arches. Your breathless moans push him over the edge and he finds every way to get you to react like that again. You feel the bud in your stomach growing and your grip on his hair gets tighter. He flattens his tongue against you and you immediately find release. 

He doesn’t let go though, he moves and inserts two fingers into you making your legs wrap tightly around his head. He takes this as something you liked and continues digging into you. He takes his time exploring the inside of you and your moans become a mix of heavy breaths and incoherent words. He finds that ever loving squishy spot and picks up his pace. Buck watches as you fight the inevitable, taking pride in the fact that he’s doing so well you think you have to hide anything that falls out of that pretty mouth of yours. You, on the other hand, have to stop the string of curses that threaten to fly out of your mouth. Buck finds your bud once more and expertly licks at it with his tongue. He starts slow, picks up space and then slows it down again. You arch your back and pull him into you more as you find release against his face once more. Your legs begin shaking and you’re reluctant to let go of his hair. He pulls your hand from his head and kisses the back of your hand.

He lifts his head from you and pulls his fingers out, licking them clean. A devious smile on his face as he moves up to find your lips. He captures them in a kiss and you immediately taste yourself on his lips. You didn’t know what about it had turned you on, but it made another pool between your legs. Buck pulls back with your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs on it just a bit. 

“Can you give me one more? You’re shaking and holding on pretty tight.” You nod your head and Buck bites his bottom lip before kissing you once more and heading back down. His fingers find that spot inside of you again and this time you hold nothing back. You let out every moan and whimper that graces your lips. It turns Buck on more as he finds your bud and licks at it relentlessly. From how good it felt you find yourself grinding into his face for more pressure. Buck tries to find release from his bed. He grinds his own hips into the bed as you moan from how good he’s making you feel. Your hips become sloppy and Buck knows you’re about to reach another release so he takes his free arm and wraps it around your hips. He locks you to the bed and continues his assault on your cunt. Within moments your moans become breathless gasps and Buck sits up to watch your face fully. Your eyes roll back and you cum but he doesn’t let up on his fingers and you find yourself squirting onto his chest. Buck in awe, cums in his underwear at the sight of you.

“Oh my god! I’m so sor-” you begin to panic. You had never experienced that in the many years you had been sexually active. No guy, or girl during your small phase, had ever made you feel like that. Buck immediately closes his eyes and you wish the bed would swallow you whole.

“No. No no no. Do not be sorry.” Buck gets off the bed and heads into the bathroom with a slight jog. You hear water running and then in seconds he’s back out and leaning over your trembling legs. “That was the hottest thing ever, oh my god.” His reassurance calms you almost immediately and you find it comforting that he wasn’t mad about it. He wipes at your legs and your core before making sure he’s got everything with another swipe of the towel. He immediately heads over to the dresser and digs into one of the drawers. He grabs a navy blue shirt and turns to head down the stairs. He comes back up and is holding sheets in his hand. You notice the wet spot, courtesy of you and a blush finds its way onto your cheeks. You grab the comforter and wrap yourself in it as Buck changes the sheets as fast as possible, then he turns to you with the shirt in hand and holds it out to you.

“I’m gonna go shower. Do you want to stay or do you want me to call an uber?” His voice is softer as you make your way back into the bed. He follows suit and places himself on the edge of the bed and his hand finds a place on your ankle. He’s rubbing soothing circles into it while your leg jerks ever so slightly.

“W-whatever you want…” You whisper it and Buck’s eyebrows crease. You had never been asked if you wanted to stay, let alone given something to sleep in. Buck smiles and his hand finds its way to your thigh and he pats it softly. He hands you the shirt before standing and heading towards the bathroom.

“It’s way too early to be kicking you out. I’ll drive you home tomorrow.” and with that he’s in the bathroom. You hear the shower turn on and then slight humming. You place the shirt over your head before fixing the duvet over the entire bed and lying down. Before long his pillow lulls you to sleep.

[hiiiandbyeee]

Hello girlie could you pls write a headcannon abt the blue lock guys (isagi,sae,Kaiser,rin bachira) where they have to pick you up from a party and you are really drunk and petty. Could you pls write it kinda funny & suggestive or actually just how you like🩷. Thank u so much🩷

Helloo ◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍ there was a earthquake in my country so I couldn't write but I'm gonna try to make it I hope y'all gonna enjoy (⁠^⁠^⁠)

When they pick you up from a party

İsagi yoichi:

When ısagi found out you were at a party he came running and he saw you drunk "NO WAY" his face was like "😦" he held ur arm and tried to stand u up but you felt so dizzy so you couldn't stand up and whine like "noo" ısagi panicked MORE I mean really really panicked he held ur hand and bend down next to you to his knees he spoke softly and said "let's just go home okay?" You nod but ur gaze was blurry ısagi tried to make you stand again and it ended up being you two fell down and when you wake up in his house at his bed next to him He just whined like he was really tired.

"Oh hi you finally awake"

İtoshi sae:

when he found out you were in a party he were just like "huh?" But didn't panicked or did he? he saw you your eyes were look like red he approached you and said "hey" You turned your head and looked at him "ahh sae" ur head was spinning too bad you felt like u were about to fell down sae just held the tip of ur skirt u said "saw" again and again he be like "ugh uh hu? What?" At that moment u felt like you were on something spinning like crazy that you felt down so bad and then sae looked down "what are you doing on floor" and you don't remember what happened but when you wake up you saw sae get ready for go to training you said "what happened?" Sae said "bad things? How can I reply that? You literally fainted on me"

"Don't go to parties without telling me again"

Michael kaiser:

When he found out you were in a party he was like "that's a joke" but then he understand it wasn't he felt weird he wasn't know why he saw you all drunk he be like "tch seriously?" He wasn't love alcoholic things (childhood traumas) so he felt a little bad but approached you and hold ur arm and pulled you towards him he spoke but not in a aggressive way "what are you-" You interrupted him "micha you came? Really? Or am I in heaven" kaiser looked at you and let out a"pff" "what heaven? Do I look like a angel" you reply it quickly " no nope nah you look like a death angel that no one wants to see You started laughing and kaiser? He be like "huh? huh!? HUH!? wh- what the?!" And you spoke again "but you're still cute and he soften in the moment and without waiting dragged you out of party while holding ur arm

"ah pff how silly of you"

Itoshi rin:

When rin found out you were in a party he still tried to act nonchalant but his heart stopped for two second he saw you in party whining and he be like "what is she? Wait huh?" He approached immediately he understand you were drunk by smell he bend down to your level and spoke "are you drunk?" You looked at him like recognize him now "ahh rin ?? Aww" rin raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing in here?" You responded "can't you see? Are you blind?" Rin annoyed while still trying to act nonchalant "no no but we're going now" you whined like child who couldn't get her favorite toy but rin still hold ur arm and pulled you up No matter how much you whined, he dragged you home from the party.

"don't do that again dummy"

Meguru bachira:

When bachira found out you were a party he be like "whaaat? Yn and party?!" He ran like his life depends on it when he found you in party sitting on the floor he let out a big"YNN" you You raised your head You were looking so innocent like a kitten. Bachira immediately bend down next to you and be like "awww my babyyyy" you looked at him didn't know what was saying ur brain was not braining You tilted your head and said "what?" Bachira said "we're going to go home oki my sweetest crumble cookie?" He always had these weird nicknames He tried to get you up but you couldn't and kept falling so Bachira carried you home on his back. When you woke up in the morning and asked what happened he said

"I don't remember"

Authors note💖

Helloo soryy if it was bad If you want me to write something else, please request it my request are open and there's still Earthquakes while I'm making this so this is terrifying but bye byeee love ya

[gothamite-rambler]

What if Tim survived in DC vs Vampires?

Any extra tips are appreciated

Nightwing raised his foot, poised to bring it down on his brother's head, but Red Robin instinctively rolled onto his back, grabbing Nightwing's leg and yanking it to the side.

In one swift motion, Red Robin sprang to his feet, ready to keep fighting.

Red Robin: That was a close one. If I'm dying it's not that way! Where did he go?

With the accelerated speed of a vampire, Nightwing darted up behind Red Robin, shattering the celebratory moment. In an instant, he sank his teeth into Red Robin's neck.

Red Hood and Robin gasped in horror at the betrayal.

Red Robin (clutching his bite wound, irritated): Asshole!

Nightwing (blood dripping from his lips, smirking): You knocked me to the ground so I bit you. Aren't you lucky I bit you, fanboy?

Red Robin: I was defending myself, you turned me into a vampire!

Red Robin delivered a swift kick to Nightwing's stomach, sending him hurtling backward as the effects of the bite began to take hold. Nightwing charged at Red Robin, quickly being taken down by Red Hood.

In the chaos of the fight, Damian was bitten as well. The two brothers, now both affected, sprinted off in separate directions, desperate to escape the nightmare.

Red Robin (walking and trying to stay sane): Don't turn evil. Don't turn evil. You are a good man, you don't crave blood... You're not thinking about biting... Deer.

Red Robin licked his lips as he spotted the deer, his heart racing with an overwhelming urge that he couldn't resist.

He sprinted after it, tackling the creature to the ground. He sank his teeth into its neck, drinking deeply. Though it wasn't what he wanted to do, the fresh blood offered a temporary fix for his surging bloodlust, momentarily quelling the wild cravings that now consumed him.

Red Robin (fangs bare): Nice and juicy. I think... I can work with this. I have to snap Nightwing out of his blood thirsting.

[absdollievu]

Taken with ease

Cowgirl!abby x bucklebunny!reader

You wake slowly, the kind of morning where sleep clings to you like warm sheets and soft light filters through the gauzy curtains. For a long moment, you don’t move—just lie there, listening to the distant hum of the wind brushing against the cabin and the soft creak of old floorboards as the house settles into the day.

Next to you, Dina Woodward lets out a sigh, shifting slightly under the covers. Her arm is draped across her eyes, dark curls spilling across her pillow in every direction. She’s still half-asleep, but when you shift to sit up, she groans in protest.

“You’re not seriously getting up already,” she mumbles.

“I want coffee,” you say with a quiet smile, stretching the sleep from your limbs.

Dina lets out a soft grunt, but there’s a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re lucky I love you, or I’d throw a pillow at you for being this functional before 9 a.m.”

The two of you make your way into the kitchen, still dressed in oversized tees and pajama shorts. The cabin’s old wood paneling glows in the morning sun, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wraps around you like a promise. You start pulling ingredients from the fridge—eggs, bacon, bread for toast—while Dina takes over the coffee maker, pouring two mugs without needing to ask how you like yours.

As the skillet begins to sizzle and the radio hums softly with classic country tunes, Dina leans against the counter and looks at you thoughtfully.

“So, tomorrow night,” she says, sipping from her mug. “Still thinking about going to that old cowboy bar? The one out by the highway with the crooked neon sign and the mechanical bull that probably violates a dozen safety codes?”

You grin. “That’s the one.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You sure you’re ready for that level of chaos? You know someone’s gonna try and drag you into line dancing.”

You give her a playful nudge. “Isn’t that the whole point? Bad dancing, strong drinks, cowboy hats—sounds like a good time to me.”

Dina smirks. “Alright. I’m in. But only if you promise not to let me sing karaoke again.”

“No promises.”

The two of you laugh, and the rest of breakfast unfolds in that easy rhythm you’ve built over years of friendship—unspoken understanding, shared jokes, and the kind of comfort that feels like home.

Later, you both throw on jeans and hoodies, stepping outside with your travel mugs in hand. The sun is climbing higher now, casting golden light over the fields, and the scent of pine drifts lazily through the air. As you reach the edge of the porch, a familiar voice calls out.

“Well now, this is a sight for sore eyes.”

You turn and see her—Abby Anderson, leaning casually against the railing of the cabin next door, arms crossed over her chest, that usual smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. She’s dressed in worn jeans and a tank top that shows off strong arms dusted with road dirt and sun. Her hair’s a bit wild, like she just came back from a ride, and her hazel eyes are fixed squarely on you.

“Morning, Abby,” you say, trying not to sound as flustered as you suddenly feel.

“Didn’t think I’d catch you two this early,” she says, gaze still steady on yours. “Headed somewhere?”

“Just grabbing coffee from the café,” you answer.

Abby nods, then takes a step down from the porch, boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. “You planning on showing up to that cowboy club tomorrow night?”

You hesitate only for a second. “Yeah. I think I will.”

Something changes in her expression—subtle, but unmistakable. A spark of something playful, edged with interest.

“Well,” she says, tipping her hat slightly with a grin that could undo a lesser person, “guess I’ll see you there then, buckle bunny.”

Your heart skips a beat.

She gives you one last look, then turns back toward her cabin, boots crunching softly across the gravel. Dina raises her eyebrows at you as you both start walking toward the truck.

“Did she just call you ‘buckle bunny’?” she asks, barely containing her amusement.

You try to hide your smile behind your coffee cup. “She did.”

Dina nudges your arm. “Well then. Tomorrow night just got a lot more interesting.”

And despite yourself, you can’t help but agree.

⸻

And there you were, the next night. You stand in front of the mirror, three different outfits laid out across your bed and a growing sense of dread bubbling in your chest. Boots or heels? Denim or leather? Casual cute or full-on cowgirl?

Jesse and Ellie are already on their way, Dina’s yelling from the bathroom that her eyeliner’s uneven, and time is slipping through your fingers like sand.

You try one last look—a black fitted tank, worn denim shorts, a belt with a silver buckle you kind of love, and your go-to boots. It feels right. You tug on a denim jacket, swipe on lip gloss, and try to quiet the nerves fluttering in your chest. Ready or not, it’s time.

⸻

The bar is alive with music, neon lights flickering over wood-paneled walls and a floor packed with boots scuffing against sawdust. There’s laughter, the clink of glasses, a haze of cigarette smoke curling near the rafters, and you are two shots deep, limbs loose, heart light.

You’re on the dance floor with Dina, your favorite song starting to pulse through the speakers like it was summoned just for you.

“What you gonna do with all that junk…”

You gasp and grin, instantly energized. “Oh my god, Dina—it’s My Humps!”

She laughs and grabs your hand. “You better not hold back now.”

And you don’t. You let yourself go—arms moving, hips swaying, mouthing every word like you’ve known this song your whole life (because, let’s be honest, you have). The world blurs into lights and laughter and bass thumping through your chest. You dance like it’s the only thing that matters.

And then, in the middle of all the motion, you catch her.

Abby.

Leaning against the far wall in the shadows, drink in hand, one boot crossed casually over the other. Her hat’s tipped low, and her eyes—fixed entirely on you—burn through the noise like a quiet secret. She’s watching you like you’re the only thing worth seeing in the room, the kind of look you read about in novels but never really believed in.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

Just watches you dance like you’ve painted yourself in color in a world that forgot what it meant to feel alive.

And it steals your breath more than the music ever could.

You hold Abby’s gaze for a moment longer than you should. Long enough to feel it—heat blooming beneath your skin, your heart thudding a little too fast for someone just dancing to a Black Eyed Peas song. There’s something about the way she looks at you—like she already knows what you’re thinking, like she’s reading every breath you take.

You break the eye contact.

You turn back to Dina, trying to laugh it off, but she catches it instantly—the shift in your energy, the way your smile falters for just a second.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning in so you can hear her over the music.

You don’t answer right away. You don’t need to.

She glances over your shoulder, then smirks. “Ah. Got it.”

You follow her eyes and know exactly what—or who—she sees.

Dina nudges you gently. “You got this one,” she says, already backing away, leaving you in the center of the dance floor with your pulse in your throat.

You don’t have to look. You feel her presence before you see her—boots on the floor, the shift in air, the soft clink of ice in her glass.

And then Abby is in front of you.

Up close, her eyes are more golden than hazel under the low bar lights, and her smile—slow, crooked, intentional—hits like a warm breeze before a storm.

“You always dance like that,” she says, voice low and teasing, “or am I just lucky to catch the live performance?”

You raise an eyebrow, meeting her gaze. “Depends. You always watch from the shadows, or is that just your thing?”

She laughs, rich and unhurried, taking a sip from her drink. “Guilty. But in my defense… you kinda make it hard not to stare.”

You feel your face flush, but you hold your ground. “That your move? Lurk near a wall and wait for someone to start dancing?”

“Nah,” she says, tilting her head, eyes trailing down, then back up. “Only when that someone’s got moves like yours.”

You laugh, trying to play it cool, even as your chest flutters like it’s got something to prove.

“Well,” you say, stepping a little closer, “guess I should ask if you’re planning on watching all night… or if you’re gonna do something about it.”

That smile of hers shifts—turns sharper, hungrier. She doesn’t answer right away. Just finishes the last of her drink and sets the glass on the nearest table without taking her eyes off you.

Then she steps in, close enough that you feel the warmth of her voice at your ear.

“That depends, buckle bunny,” she murmurs. “You ready for a real dance?”

Your heart skips. The bar, the music, the crowd—they all blur into background noise the second Abby leans in and says those words.

You ready for a real dance?

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes,” you breathe, steady.

A flicker of something deeper crosses her face—approval, maybe, or satisfaction, like she’d been hoping you’d say that all along. Then, with an easy, practiced motion, Abby reaches up and pulls her hat off, slow and deliberate.

She steps even closer and sets it gently on your head, fingers brushing along your hairline. It’s the kind of touch that’s soft enough to be polite but lingers just long enough to be dangerous. Her gaze holds yours the whole time.

“There,” she says, voice dropping lower, more private. “Now you look the part.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Your breath’s caught somewhere between your chest and throat, tangled up in the way she’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists in this place full of noise and motion.

Then she offers you her hand.

You take it.

Abby pulls you toward the edge of the dance floor—not the center where people are loud and wild, but off to the side, where the lighting’s softer, the shadows stretch longer, and the rhythm of the music slows just enough to let the tension breathe.

Her hands find your waist like she’s done it before, like your body belongs there in the space between her arms. You settle your hands on her shoulders, fingers brushing against muscle and worn cotton.

Neither of you says anything for a beat. The music pulses low, a new song rolling in—slower now, something with a sultry guitar and a drumbeat like a heartbeat.

And then you start to move.

She leads with confidence but no pressure, guiding you gently, letting you feel the rhythm before pushing it further. You match her step for step, the two of you moving like you’ve danced together before in some dream neither of you remembers fully.

The hat’s a little too big, but it feels right on your head.

Abby leans in, her mouth close to your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “Careful,” she murmurs. “I might not want it back.”

You smile, slow and sure this time.

“Then come get it.”

⸻

You don’t know how long you’ve been dancing—could be minutes, could be longer—but time doesn’t move the same when Abby Anderson is holding you like this.

The song hums low, bass slow and sultry, threaded with steel guitar and the kind of lyrics that melt like honey under heat. Abby’s hand is steady at your waist, her other brushing the edge of your lower back, just enough to remind you she’s there, guiding you, grounding you.

And still—leaving space for you to move. To choose.

You lean in, just slightly. Not because she’s pulling you, but because it feels natural, inevitable.

“You really dance like this with everyone?” you ask, voice low, teasing.

Abby huffs a quiet laugh against your cheek. “Only when they wear my hat.”

You feel the corners of your mouth twitch up, can’t help it. The hat sits crooked on your head now, tilted from the way you’re moving, your bodies swaying slow and close in the dark-lit corner of the bar. You don’t fix it.

She smells like cedarwood and whiskey, and there’s a faint trace of something like campfire smoke clinging to her shirt. It hits you suddenly, how intimate this moment is—not loud or messy like the rest of the bar, but quiet, deliberate. A kind of closeness you don’t stumble into by accident.

The music dips low again, drums steady like footfalls in dirt, and Abby leans in closer, her voice barely louder than the beat.

“You know, I almost didn’t come tonight,” she says, her thumb brushing against your hip in a slow circle. “Didn’t think it’d be worth it.”

You glance up at her, heart beating louder than the music now. “And now?”

Her eyes find yours—no smirk this time, no teasing. Just something honest.

“Now I’m thinking it might’ve been the smartest decision I’ve made in a long time.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t have to.

Because your hands tighten ever so slightly at her shoulders. Because your bodies are so close now that you feel her heart beating in sync with yours. Because this moment—the sway, the silence, the weight of her attention—it speaks louder than anything either of you could say.

You keep dancing. Slower now.

And for the first time that night, it feels like the rest of the bar fades completely away.

⸻

The music eventually fades, but your bodies don’t separate right away. There’s a pause—an unspoken beat where neither of you quite wants to let go. When Abby finally steps back, her hand trails from your waist slowly, like she’s reluctant to lose the contact.

She looks at you with that same half-smile you’re starting to realize means more than it lets on.

“Come on,” she says softly, “you earned a drink after that.”

You nod, heart still thudding in your chest, and follow her off the floor.

The bar’s louder now, more people filling in, but she leads you through the crowd like she’s done it a hundred times—confident, unbothered. You settle into a quiet booth in the corner, away from the crush of voices and lights. Abby flags down a server and orders a whiskey for herself. You go with something a little sweeter. The first few sips settle your nerves, the burn of the alcohol grounding you.

For a while, you talk.

Not just flirty throwaways this time—real talk. You learn she helps manage a working ranch just outside town. Long days, early mornings, more mud than glamour. She tells you about growing up in a house where silence meant safety, and how she found peace not in people, but in places that gave her space to breathe.

You listen. You really listen. And when it’s your turn, she does the same.

It’s strange, how easy it is with her. You didn’t expect that. Abby’s the kind of person who walks into a room and takes up space without trying, but here—across from you, drink in hand, hat abandoned on the table—she feels present in a way that’s rare.

She glances at you over the rim of her glass. “Didn’t think I’d be sitting here tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow. “No?”

“Nah,” she says, a soft smile curling at her lips. “I thought I’d show up, maybe get a drink, head out early. But then you danced like that. Kinda changed the plan.”

You shake your head, smiling, trying to play it off. “You really don’t turn it off, do you?”

Abby leans forward, forearms resting on the table, voice lower now. “Not when I’m trying to get your number.”

There it is again—that pull. That magnetic, self-assured charm that somehow doesn’t feel like a performance.

You pull your phone out and slide it toward her.

She takes it without hesitation, types in her number, then looks up at you. “I’m not the text-you-twice type,” she says. “So if you’re interested, don’t wait.”

You don’t look away. “Who said I was gonna wait at all?”

Abby’s smile deepens, and for a second, it feels like the whole bar fades behind her again. The noise, the crowd, the drinks—none of it matters.

Just this table. Just this look. Just her.

And your phone buzzing gently in your hand with her contact now saved:

Abby Anderson — don’t play it safe.

⸻

Part 2??

[mikkomacko]

need a blurb of mob nico coming home to reader teaching luke how to tame and style his curls

Omg ok so I’ve always tried to keep reader pretty vague that way everyone can have they’re own perception of what she looks like haha

But I mean my girl is Italian so her hair would most like be textured/wavy/curly ya know??

I can so see Luke coming up to her one night at the bar and just being like “your hair looks really nice.”

And she’s smiling, a little caught off guard but flattered by the compliment. “Thanks Luke, that’s so sweet.”

“Do you-I mean like what stuff do you put it your hair to make it look that nice?”

Reader is so eager to sharing her product line up because her and Johnny have perfected it. Like it’s immaculate. So she’s getting all excited and listing off stuff and Luke has no idea what any of it is. He just nods until she stops talking and then goes kinda shy.

“Do you think you could teach me? Some of the boys have been saying my hair looks bad and that I should comb it or something but it just gets bigger when I do that!”

And oh my goodness reader’s whole day is made. She’s so excited, making plans to take him to the store to pick stuff out and then he can come to the house and she’ll show him how to use everything.

He comes over early Saturday morning for his little beauty lesson and because this is such a big deal, he even gets access to the overly large bathroom attached to reader and Nico’s bedroom.

Which is where Nico finds them when he comes home from his run, shirt damp with sweat and plastered to his skin uncomfortably. He just wants to get in the shower, get dressed for the day, and then spend the day lounging around with his girl.

Unfortunately he’s stopped by the sight of Luke sat on a stool from the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his shoulders and wet hair dripping down his forehead.

“Uhhh what’s happening here?”

Her and Luke both freeze, turning to him with the same deer in headlights look. Reader smiles then, waving the bottle of leave in conditioner in her hand.

“Luke is learning,” is all she says and Nico just nods, moving into the bathroom and perching against the counter to watch them. His clothes are drying and feel odd and gross on his skin, but he doesn’t care.

Because it’s actually entertaining to watch her explain everything to Luke, to make him tip his head upside down while she scrunches mouse into it and then curl the shorter pieces by his face with her finger, and even when she puts two claw clips in the wet ringlets on top of his head.

“For volume,” she explains simply, that look of pure concentration on her face that makes her look so cute. And Luke is hanging on her every word, like a school child, obediently nodding his head and asking questions.

Nico remembers the first time he watched this exact same routine, listened to her tell him about everything and while Nico knew she sometimes hated doing it, he loves her hair when it’s naturally styled, just a bit frizzy and curling around her face and neck.

He always wished his hair wasn’t so pin straight, so flat all the time. So yeah he admires it, admires her, and if he pictures this same moment in the future with mini version of him and her instead of Luke sat in that chair, well then that’s his little secret for now.

Afterwards, when Luke’s hair is mostly dry and he’s given up on trying to figure out the diffuser, he’s looking to Nico with his mouth parted in shock. “Did you know so much work went into this?”

And Nico is laughing. “Yeah man. I watch her get ready almost everyday.”

[targaryenfelikayt]

imprisonment. |The Sinclair Brothers|

wc: 2,770 summary: restriction of a person's liberty for any reason whatsoever, whether by order of a government or by a person acting without such authority. tags/warnings: anxiety, uncertain end, kidnapping, one-sided feelings. note: if you read this in Russian, then yes, I am translating my works into English.

Bo Sinclair.

This damn trip started as badly as it would end. From the beginning, the rental car's engine was acting up, but the group decided to ignore after all, an adventure awaited them: a journey through the land of boundless freedom, with mountain ranges, wild beaches, endless forests, and scorching deserts. It was the ninth hour on the road, most of which had passed along the highway, and if not for unexpected construction work, they would’ve reached a big city by nightfall.

“We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.” The girl leaned forward from the back seat, trying to make out something ahead.

The driver wanted to reply, but missed a pothole, hitting it hard with the front left tire. The jolt slammed her head into the car's ceiling and flung her backward. She hissed in frustration, fumbling for her seatbelt to avoid being tossed around again.

That wasn’t easy trying to buckle up while holding a trophy and using a phone flashlight as the car rocked from side to side was a challenge. As she finally clicked the belt into place, two small lights appeared in the window, one after another, as if someone was peeking out from behind the trees.

“Hey, look. Is that… another car?”

Her friend in the passenger seat glanced around, puzzled.

“You’re seeing things. Probably just light bouncing off something. There’s nothing on the map or GPS. Swear to God, this is the boonies.”

“They don’t build bypass roads through the wilderness, even if it’s old.” The driver chimed in.

“There’s nothing left but the name.”

The girl tried to get a signal, but the internet was stubbornly silent about their current location. The next town was still a couple of miles away, maybe an hour and a half or even two, with how dark it was now. After a few more minutes, the headlights caught a welcome sign.

“Welcome to Ambrose. Don’t forget to visit our House of Wax.” The guy read the sign out loud, turning the wheel. “Told you it wasn’t that far.”

“Still is, according to the GPS.” She leaned forward again between the seats.

“Must be crappy coverage out here, ladies, if the tech doesn’t realize we’ve already reached our cozy little stopover. We’ll figure out where to go in the morning. For now, let’s just be happy with this sweet twist of fate.”

Crossing a shallow stream, they drove into town and stopped by a gas station. Everything around was silent, broken only by the faint sound of a radio from inside the convenience store. The streetlights only worked near the station and the church, which stood awkwardly unkempt. Its sharp spire loomed over the low buildings, looking ready to tip over toward the peeling white paint on its north wall. It felt like only old folks still lived here, seeing out the rest of their days.

“I’ll go look for someone. If there’s no motel, maybe we can ask to stay with someone.” The girl carefully stepped out of the car, holding the door as if it, too, had aged with the rest of the town.

The workshop attached to the store greeted her with Rob Zombie playing, the scent of motor oil, and one of those cheap air fresheners. Well, at least someone lived here.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

As she walked past shelves full of random stuff, she noticed a door to the back. Warm light spilled from the basement, and for the love of God, it never even crossed her mind to go down there. Never go into basements or attics, the golden rule of all horror stories and people not looking to get into trouble.

“Hello? Looking for someone. Anyone at all.” She tapped on the wooden hatch.

Her phone buzzed with a notification about seasonal discounts and then went dark. So, there *was* signal—why the hell wasn’t this town on any maps?

“Then I’m probably the best luck you’ll get tonight.”

Startled, she turned toward the voice at the doorway—and froze. A stranger’s head peeked just above the basement steps. His gray eyes studied the unexpected guest with curious intensity. It was going to be a quiet evening: Vincent was working on details for the wax museum, Lester was probably off in the woods as usual, and he... Well, the shop always kept him busy.

The girl tensed. She couldn’t even see his whole face, just the blue mechanic’s coveralls and a baseball cap shadowing most of his features.

“Is that so?” she smiled nervously, trying to hide her unease, but couldn’t stop the flutter in her voice under the weight of his calm confidence.

He stepped onto the first stair without breaking eye contact. The creak made her shoulders twitch. One more step. The sound was worse this time. He relished the tension radiating off her as he took two more stairs with deliberate ease.

“Yeah... That’s so.”

She lifted her head, studying the mechanic who now stood toe to toe with her. Her considerable height seemed to vanish next to a man built like a bear. A grizzly — that’s who he reminded her of. Not some plush toy, but a real predator, walking calmly only until someone disturbed his peace.

Smirking, he stepped over to the hatch and shut it.

“My name’s Bo, and I own the place you’re standing in. What can I help you with?”

“We need a motel, or just somewhere to spend the night. The roads under construction, we had to take a detour, and either your surface is off, or the GPS is glitching — it doesn’t show up on the map.”

“What did you expect,” the man said, leading her along. “Small town, small population. I can offer you a place to stay at my house.”

Opening the front door for her, Sinclair looked over at the group that had gathered. A thought flashed through his mind — it would’ve been better if today were just another ordinary June day. Finding and creating future figures takes a lot of time and energy, especially when you’ve been doing it your whole conscious life. Sure, in a way, lost lambs like this made the job easier, but statues required delicate details, inspiration, not mechanical repetition. They’d never be beautiful otherwise — not the way Mother wanted.

“It’d be great if you could take a look at the car in the morning, before we leave,” she added. “I don’t like the sound it’s making under the hood when we pick up speed.”

The guy standing next to another girl offered his hand and shook Bo’s a little too firmly for someone so scrawny. Better be careful with this one. Hit him on the headfirst, just in case he got any heroic ideas.

“My place is a couple blocks away. I’d say leave your ride here. No one’s gonna steal it — unless the old priest decides to renounce the Lord and relive his youth.”

Flashing a warm smile, Bo locked the garage for show and headed into town. He didn’t need a flashlight to walk the road he could cross blindfolded, but for the tourists, you had to play the part. Good thing Vincent always left the outdoor lights on.

Meanwhile, the girl couldn’t bring herself to stop staring at the broad back ahead of her. The unease didn’t go away. It was hard to understand her own feelings — something inside was sounding the alarm just from the man’s presence, while her brain stayed neutral. After all, there was no *real* reason to fear him. Her tired gaze drifted toward a still-standing house.

Bo entered first, made a joke to the guy about the unlocked door, and offered them something to eat.

“Let me make dinner,” she said, focusing all his attention on him. “It’s no trouble, really. Think of it as a small thank-you.”

Sinclair wasn’t used to anyone playing host on his turf, but looking into her eyes, he didn’t want to object. Two of the others went back to the car when they realized the guy had left his phone there. “Even better,” flashed through his mind as he saw the door close behind them. Left in silence, the man went to change, while the girl was already chopping vegetables. Something heavily coiled under his ribs as he watched her in the familiar setting of his home. That quiet care — toward someone who’d turned her friends into wax statues — amused him... If only she knew who she was cooking for, she might’ve added poison.

“If you help me with the meat, dinner’ll be ready faster,” she called from the kitchen when Bo returned.

“Who’s helping who? Been a long time since I had a real home-cooked meal.”

He managed to dull the gnawing feeling of dread with a smile that turned out softer than he intended. He wanted to see her beside him — always. And in that moment, Bo Sinclair made up his mind. And the one who’d shown him kindness for the first time... would either accept it — or fight him to the end.

Vincent Sinclair.

Muse. Vincent needed one as he finished the new figure for the museum. This guy had been especially difficult to work with, not least because of the time spent dealing with a shoulder shredded by buckshot — stitching the skin back together, cauterizing a damaged vein before that. For a moment, he thought it would’ve been easier to throw the body away, but that moment of weakness passed quickly — you couldn’t afford to waste good material.

Sinclair was truly skilled with surgical tools. In another life, he could’ve been a doctor like his father, but in this one, his mother’s love had steered him in a different direction. Vincent was an artist, a creator, a sculptor, a killer. He never felt any real passion for the act of killing itself, it was more a part of the job, where a lost soul in Ambrose became raw material.

Setting the needle and thread aside, his gaze wandered over his handiwork. Not perfect, but the best he could manage in these conditions. The guy had blacked out a couple of times from the pain, which was for the better, Sinclair hated it when people started moaning. It ruined the whole mood, the creative focus.

The wax was slowly boiling over an open flame, making the room stiflingly hot. The heaviness spread through the basement, wrapping around the artist’s neck and squeezing tight, making it harder to breathe.

Art demands sacrifice, even from its creator.

One night, when Trudy was putting her sons to bed, Vincent couldn’t sleep. His mother was growing nervous, she still had to repair yet another of masks. Lighting a cigarette, she stood by the window for a long time, staring out at the dark silhouettes of the town, as if trying to see what others were doing behind their walls or perhaps lost in her own thoughts.

“Your namesake,” she suddenly turned around, her tired, unblinking gaze locking onto her son, “Vincent van Gogh, cut off his own earlobe in a fit of madness. Brilliant minds are insane. They’re never understood by nobodies and hicks like the ones living in Ambrose.”

The boy nodded, stepping closer, but she stabbed the cigarette out on the painted windowsill, kissed his forehead, and left the room. What was going on in her head, no one ever knew. Not then, not even now.

A sharp whistle pierced the silence. Time to begin the main part of the process, the one where everything depended on how well he’d completed the previous steps. The wax poured down in thick droplets from the pipes, spreading over the body of the unfortunate victim. Yes, she’d been a challenge, but it had been worth it. Watching hours of intense work transforms into an angelic statue, that was something beyond words. Vincent could never get used to it: every time he felt a strange thrill, a flood of thoughts that vanished the moment his hands touched the tools.

He had time now to finish the preparations. Walking over to the clothing rack, he sifted through outfit after outfit, but nothing seemed right. Then his fingers brushed against a pearl hairclip in a box of accessories. He stopped, tracing the beads with his thumb.

That clip… Hers.

So odd forgetting to eat, to sleep, to rest, but remembering exactly what kind of clip she wore that day. Maybe it could be chalked up to an artist’s memory for details, but he’d never had that before.

Slipping it into his pocket, Sinclair paused, then decided to head upstairs. At first, Bo had thought it was a good idea to place the girl in their father’s old study. The room was perfect for keeping an eye on her, with a secret passage connecting it to both the house and the museum. But Vincent had kept shaking his head, knowing it wasn’t practical. It was Lester who finally voiced some sense:

“You guys seriously don’t get it? She’s already locked in give her a space where she can feel at least somewhat safe. Otherwise, we’ll either be hunting her through the woods or turning her corpse into the next exhibit.”

That outcome was the last thing the sculptor wanted, especially after fighting so hard to let her stay in Ambrose. Alive. After a bit more arguing, Bo once again told them to go to hell and stormed out. Lester, unexpectedly, clapped Vincent on the shoulder and said they’d figure it out.

"Did he know something?" Sinclair wondered as he made his way through the catacombs. He thought no one noticed his interest. But really, why else would he have decided to keep her close?

She was otherworldly. And it wasn’t just the airy white dress it was the fact that when she saw him without the mask (which had fallen off during the scuffle with the rest of her group), she hadn’t screamed. It was the fact that, letting the others go, she had to stay behind. Foolish to think they were still alive, but that altruistic act bordering on desperation had left its mark. Would either of his brothers have done the same? Would he?

Vincent didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do with her now, didn’t know how to get closer, how to win her over and he didn’t know what to do with the ache in his chest.

The wooden hatch thudded against the worn carpet with a muffled sound. Somewhere down the hallway, someone flinched—because she knew who had come back. She’d been told clearly: nothing would happen to her if she followed the rules and stayed out of the elder Sinclair’s way. It wasn’t hard, really, considering she hadn’t left the room set aside for her in days.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Vincent opened it and met a wary, haunted gaze. The closer he came, the harder it was for her to hold back tears. God, why was he wearing that mask? And why was he silent? Wasn’t it enough that she was already teetering on the edge of a breakdown?

He could clearly see her reaction and stopped, searching for a pen and paper. Scrawling a few lines, his trembling fingers pushed the note closer to her.

“You can stay here and never leave this room or calm down and start a new life.”

“I didn’t ask for this new life. Why couldn’t you just turn me into one of your wax dolls?!”

The girl snapped and fell apart completely. Had he upset her that much? Vincent hadn’t meant to make her cry. No, not his muse — his muse was supposed to be happy.

Then he remembered the hair clip. Maybe that would calm her down? He slid the accessory over just like the note, and when she reached for the pearly beads, his fingertips brushed her soft skin.

It was their first physical contact. It hit him like a jolt of electricity pleasant, addictive. The sculptor could’ve stayed at that moment forever. Startled, he backed out of the room like a man possessed, retreating to the familiar refuge of the basement, while she stared at the clip a gift from the woman who had offered her and her husband a ride to another town.

“Sweetheart, you look just like an old movie star in that dress.”

Those had been her last words before they ended up in this town. Somewhere beneath the frame and glue, brownish stains remained. Knowing whose blood it was, the girl broke down again in sobs.

She would never be free again.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Hero Kidnaps Villain Part 14

Warnings: torture, villain whumpee in captivity, humiliation, treated like a dog, degrading talk, sensory deprivation

He knew it would be so much worse if he didn't do it. He was expected to be kneeling and ready for pain the instant Superhero stepped foot in his prison.

He heard Superhero grunt approvingly at his pathetic display of submission, seeming satisfied with his quick reaction time. He trembled in terrified anticipation, wincing when he felt the tip of the cane below his chin that tilted his head up to presumably face Superhero, though the blindfold prevented him from making eye contact.

Villain's breaths quickened fearfully, anxiety twisting his gut in knots.

"You're catching on quick," Superhero remarked dryly. "Guess my lessons are finally starting to stick, eh?"

"Yes, sir," Villain mumbled dryly. He yelped in pain when the cane disappeared from under his chin and tapped a gnarly bruise on his thigh.

"Your rules?"

Villain didn't hesitate to recite them robotically, the fight beaten out of him a long time ago. "Be obedient. Listen to instructions. Do not resist. Do not fight back."

"Very good," Superhero praised. He hummed quietly, and Villain braced himself for the pain -- that didn't come.

"You've been remarkably well-behaved recently," his captor commented. "I think you've earned a break -- as long as giving you one won't make you relapse and forget your rules."

"No, sir! I won't forget my rules!" Villain blurted, practically begging Superhero for that break, the carrot dangled in front of him. He was far past his breaking point – he just wanted the slightest reprieve, for even a single heartbeat. He'd kill for that.

Superhero had been thorough in breaking him both mentally and physically. Villain was to never resist during beatings, and if he tried to shield himself in any way… the part of him he was guarding would become the main target of the abuse. He'd be punished for trying to block any blows he saw coming. If he covered his head with his arms? He'd be punched in the face until he was black and blue. Curled up to protect his stomach? The cane would strike there twice as hard and often until he uncurled himself and let his stomach be beat. He was punished for every involuntary reflex until he'd mastered enough self-control that Superhero was satisfied.

There was no way to defend himself. None at all. He was supposed to just take it. He was slightly grateful he wouldn't be punished for screaming too – that was something he would never be able to control.

A part of him was disgusted with himself for groveling at his enemy's feet so readily -- but the part of him that wanted to survive in this place overrode any deviance.

Villain twitched when he felt hands touch his head, and it took a moment for him to realize that the blindfold was being untied. The bright light that flooded his vision hurt his eyes, but he drank it all in with feverish desperation after the eternal darkness he'd been subjected to the past four days.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Villain panted, practically sobbing in relief.

"Get up," Superhero ordered, and Villain's body instinctively obeyed, aching and battered as it was. The agony was excruciating, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to go through the familiar motions, keeping his head lowered submissively.

It was difficult, but he eventually managed to struggle to his feet, facing Superhero and awaiting further instruction with wide, fearful eyes.

To his surprise, Superhero walked behind him and unlocked the chain attached to his collar, letting it clank to the floor. His hands stayed cuffed tightly beyond him like usual, but... this was the first time the chain had come off. This was something new. And new meant dangerous.

Villain couldn't stop shaking as Superhero grabbed his arm and roughly dragged him out of the filthy room he'd been forced to live in since his arrival at Agency.

He was absolutely terrified, but he didn't dare ask where he was being taken. Because good dogs don't have wants, or questions. They existed to obey and serve, and nothing more.

So he stumbled along to keep up with Superhero's brisk pace, following him through the bright white halls to a room he didn't recognize, one that looked remarkably like his own prison room -- only this one was much larger.

He almost fell flat on his face when Superhero shoved him inside, but caught his balance at the last second and narrowly avoided collapsing embarrassingly on the floor.

And he was horrified by what he saw when he finally had the bearings to glance around the room.

Before him stood both Supervillain and Henchmen, held side-by-side by two Agency members. They looked awful, both of them covered in vicious gashes and raw, infected wounds. Bruises mottling their skin. He could count every single bone on their thin bodies and gaunt faces. They'd been brutalized far worse than Villain had been; that much was clear. But Villain couldn't understand why Superhero brought him here to see this -- was this a power move to show him what could happen if he didn't cooperate? Another way of drilling the lesson into him?

His attention snapped to Superhero when he walked around to stand within his line of sight.

"Supervillain and Henchmen are examples of villains who have proven to be irredeemable," he said. "Unfortunately our training wasn't enough to correct them into being better people. And we can't waste resources on people who can't be saved. We have other prisoners who could use the time and energy that would otherwise be wasted on these two defective creatures. And you know what happens to bad dogs who can't be trained not to bite?"

Superhero smiled cruelly at Villain, expression cold and heartless. "They get put down."

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson @writing-with-olive

@f1sh-bone

[gaygay--astronaut]

.