#the punisher x micro

[alexiswritingstuff]

Saved by the unexpected.

Pairing: Frank Castle x teen! reader (Gender Neutral)

Other appearances: Micro, aka David Lieberman. 

Summary: Your run to the grocery store goes sideways on the way back home that leads you to being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and with a fresh gunshot wound. Upon waking up you find yourself somewhere unknown with people you had never seen... Or so you thought.

Warnings: gun fights, murder, gun shot wound, mentions of other injuries like cuts and bruises, implied parent loss. 

Be aware of possible spelling mistakes or sentences that are worded wrong. I read over my writing before posting but stuff still manages to slip under my radar!

A/n: Bro I really am bad at creating titles for fics. Anyway, I watched The Punisher a few months ago, and previously finished DareDevil, and I wasn’t able to stop thinking about a certain Mr. Castle. That man in general already activated my daddy issues and then I watched season 2, and... Yeah, that was a lot, but this is what my brain created! 

Like I say whenever I write for new characters, because this is my first attempt, the way portray them and the characteristics may not be a 100% accurate, so bear with me while I find my footing.

Either way, I hope you enjoy reading! 

It was supposed to be a morning like any other. One that started with a bright sky and chirping birds before slowly melding into the warm afternoon. 

You had just done the weekly shop, collecting everyday items, things that would give the most important nutrients, with basically the same amount in snacks and drinks. 

I mean, what else could they mean by a balanced diet?

The main route you would usually take had been closed off by the time you had finished with the store, the road cracked from something unknown, meaning that you had to take a detour. 

It was one that you had walked through many times before, leading you almost directly towards where your trailer was stationed without having to wind round block after block of apartments. 

So, the decision to choose it was simple. 

You took off down the pathway between two very large buildings that almost looked as if they could reach the sky from your angle.

This part was more commonly known as the run down area. The complexes on either side of you were empty. Most had the windows boarded up, due to the lack of repair, and the walls themselves were stained from a plethora of things. 

Some parts even looked about ready to fully crack and crumble. 

It was a lot harder to get funding for these buildings the further they got from the main street. The only people even coming here were probably residents from some that managed to become apartments. But the rest was pretty much just abandoned property.

You had moved under an overhang section created by the walkway above, connecting the two opposing buildings. It honestly sort of felt like a tunnel due to its width, but definitely not by length as you were quickly welcomed by the next area. 

To the left, behind a wall that separated a descending pathway from the ground levelled with your own feet, was a car park. 

The size of it would give the implication that there was a mass of vehicles coming in and out during the week, easy access for people working in the surrounding buildings. 

Though now, it was always empty.

… Or it was supposed to be. 

In the furthest corner was this very specific looking handful of cars; big and black, almost blocky in structure. A sight that should have been acknowledged as the first sign. Your first warning. 

But not fast enough.

Out of nowhere, there was this echo that felt like it drilled through your ear drums. It was a violent sound, one that rung for almost a full minute through the complex to your left. 

It wasn’t something you really questioned off the bat, somehow. I mean, the building was old. 

It could’ve been a loose panel finally deciding to break free from the ceiling, or a cracked wall weighing in on itself. Maybe even someone trying to fix up the damn building.

In fairness, those assumptions weren’t exactly bad... 

They were just the wrong ones. 

The sounds repeated, and whatever it was reverberated from the broken windows in a way that properly allowed it to be heard in its entirety. It was closer this time, more full. “What the...”

It was a series of bassy pops, collectively almost imitating the blast of fireworks, but within the sounds were these clinks like something was falling on the floor right after. 

And though it was a very muffled detail, that took a moment for your brain to register, it didn’t stop the cogs from making their final turn. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Within the same moment that you had made the decision to practically slide to the side, trying not to completely slam into the wall that you ended up behind, the doors of the building burst open with such force that it echoed.

There was a chorus of yelling, even more shots, and heavy boots that practically skidded against the concrete as they moved. Like you had just stumbled across a damn army.

You were sat on the ground, one leg stretched out from your hurried movements while the other was still bent at the knee, ready to move if necessary. The backpack was still strapped around your shoulders meaning that the further you tried to press against the brick wall, the more certain items began to stab into your back.

Your heart was hammering, chest heaving, as you continuously looked up and down the path you sat on. 

It was the only thing you could see. Everything was happening on the other side of the wall, so pretty much all you could do was just sit and listen for the people that might decide to come your way.

You fought the urge to cry out when bullets skimmed the top of the wall, causing little clumps of rubble and dust to hit the top of your head. “Why me, why me, why me!” you hissed through a whisper, trying to ruffle the stuff out of your hair. 

Hurried shouts were passing back and forth across the huge car park like a game of tennis, though it seemed that due to the other sounds that followed, and the panicked state of your mind, all of them were unintelligible. It sounded like they were coming from everywhere.

The multiple objects in your bag had started to make your spine ache so, at the same time as yet another shot, you leaned forward. Quick enough that the sound of items unsquashing themselves would ring at the same time as the bullet. 

You reached back, making sure that your bag wasn’t going to hit any surface, and then took it off one arm at a time before the bag was finally placed in front of you.

Your fingers immediately unzipped it to begin the search. You wanted some kind of weapon, or if not that then at least some form of protection... But you had in fact just gone shopping. 

I doubt a banana would be useful in a gun fight. 

So, you moved onto the pockets that sat on either side of the bag. A huff of air passed through your lips while your hand shuffled through the left pocket. You felt around, following the lining of stitches for at least something, but the most found was a wrapper from some candy or gum. 

So, it was on to the next. 

This time, to do the same routine, was a bit more difficult as this pocket was where you kept your water bottle. A more careful process as you started to comb through the compartment. 

And then, finally, you felt something.

In that moment it was hard to tell what it was. It felt long enough to at least administer some form of damage, or maybe only threaten someone from a distance, so your stressed mind just chose it. You began pulling your hand out. 

But, despite what you wanted, it wasn’t going to be that easy. 

Right as the item had been tugged vertically, an attempt to make it easier to pull it out, the movement had caused the bone of your wrist to hit into the bottle.

Ordinarily, it was something that you wouldn’t think twice about. You were just trying to get an item out of a pocket, surely you could do that without something bad happening... 

However, half of whatever you were trying to grab had been stuck under the bottle in a way that already had it tilting. And then the impact landed. Your wrist hit near the top of the bottle and that was all it needed. 

It started to tip out of the pocket. 

A sharp breath sucked into your lungs at the feeling, but with no ability to catch it in time, the metal cylinder simply fell to the floor from a very unfortunate height for you. 

In fact, even after the sound echoed in a way that most definitely had already blown your cover, the world seemed to have other plans for you as after yet another bounce and a few more smaller ones, it was starting to roll. 

You leaned to the side as fast as you could, reaching your arm out to its full extent with your hand wide open. But it was like trying to catch a fly, and soon, it just rolled right passed your fingers, moving even faster the more the water sloshed inside of it. 

The only thing you could do was watch in utter horror as the bottle travelled right passed the edge of a wall for the whole world to see. 

And eventually, about halfway through the path, it ran into a rock or a crack in the ground. The bottle bounced about one more time before it finally stalled. Though, at this point it didn’t really matter. 

The shots had placated a bit, the only ones being fired sounding farther away, as murmurs of confusion had dispersed through men on the other side of the wall. 

“What was that?

“Did you hear that?

“Where did that come from?” 

Your eyes squeezed shut, teeth biting into the skin of your bottom lip as your body just purely froze no matter how much your brain was telling you to make a run for it. 

“Okay, okay, all of you keep moving! Spread out more while I check it out. We’re not alone out here!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Okay, sir!”

However many people were on the other side of the wall scattered within the next beat of your heart. More shots and shouts began to ring out with the same loudness, now joined by the heavy smacking of boots as they moved further away...

But a pair of footsteps still remained. 

Now, your heart was purely thumping in your ears. It was by far the most prominent thing you could hear in that moment, though the sound of those harsh shoes kicking up stones without care was an active competitor. 

Especially when they started getting louder. 

Your eyes flicked to the open backpack in front of you, an ache beginning to pulse through your forehead while you stared at the contents. 

There was this sort of desperation, and almost disappointment, that built in your system at the thought of losing the freshly bought items. Though, what was the point in trying to save the food if you wouldn’t be alive to eat it. 

Within the next second, and after a very deep breath, you propped your hands firmly against the path below on either side of your body. You pushed your strength into the unstretched leg until it was folded under you. 

By now you looked like some kind of runner getting ready to do race, and honestly it was pretty much how you felt. The thought was the only thing suppressing the panic active in your chest, so you indulged.

There was this internal count down as you moved your other leg behind, even if there wasn’t that much space to do so. And then the timer went off. 

You were about to push yourself onto your feet. About to get up, adopt a sort of hunched over posture so that no part of your body could peak over the wall, and run like hell.

But again. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

A movement was caught from the corner of your eye. 

You had barely even started carrying out your wanted movements when a man suddenly appeared right round the corner of the wall, slow and intense. 

He was pretty decked out from what your panicked mind could comprehend. There were a multitude of weapons that clung to his belt, and he was in fact holding this massive gun. 

Initially, his focus was on your bottle. The barrel of the gun was pointed directly at the object of confusion, as it didn’t really look like the standard water bottle from afar, his finger hovering over the trigger. Ready to fire at any moment. 

At this point you had resumed this sort of weird crouched position, stuck between wanting to stand up and staying frozen to the ground as if you could just meld into it. 

Either way, it was the kind of stance that didn’t provide a sense of balance. And soon, despite how much the dread utterly pooled at the bottom of your stomach like it did on a rollercoaster, you fell. Right on your ass.

The gun, that you had pretty much only seen in movies or on the news, was pointed right in your direction before you could even blink. 

You attempted to crawl backwards, winding round your backpack, eyes wide and fully open as they trained on the man who in turn had started to follow your movements. And then you stopped, knowing full and well what was coming even if you got to your feet. 

Your breathing was erratic, arms moving stiff and slow as you raised them above your head with your palms open, facing the man who made no implications that he was going to put that gun down. 

“Listen,” You gulped, “I didn’t see anything, I swear-- Look, there. My bag is there-- Take it. Take anything.” 

“Anything you want.” 

It was no use. No matter what way the words tumbled from your mouth, that finger never tried to move away from that trigger. 

You closed your eyes, feeling the way your body heaved with every breath, the way your hands shook. Your ears listened out for the wind, the wildlife that had most definitely moved on from here already, or just something that wasn’t from guns. 

But then a shot rung out. Right in front of you.

It was an indistinctive reaction when your body jolted at the sound as it echoed through the large area and pinged within the windows of the abandoned buildings. You had almost fallen, your arms springing down even if you thought there was no time to protect...

You could still move?

Your eyes snapped open, the ability to take in full breaths yet to come, and you looked down at yourself. You tried to scan across what you could see of your body, that was somehow still alive, and leant on a hand to further support yourself. 

However, just as your brain attempted to register a lack of a gunshot wound, the sound of something hitting the ground stopped your investigation. 

Your head sort of bobbed for a moment, the want to continue your search fierce in your veins, before your gaze finally tore away.

The man before you had tumbled to his knees. His hands were moving around for a few seconds, desperately trying to grab a part of his chest as if in disbelief of what just happened. 

And then another shot fired. 

Like before, your body had jolted in response, still having no idea which gun it was coming from. 

However, when a particular part of you scrunched, the shock in your system decided to completely drain, your pain receptors activated in a way that you weren’t at all ready for. 

It was hard to pin point exactly where the feeling had originated as it spread like a wildfire, but it was intense enough that the arm you were leant against almost buckled within seconds. 

Sharp burning. A sensation that made it feel like you had been bitten by thousands of fire ants over and over again. 

Or, when you finally managed to get yourself to look down again, it was because you had in fact gotten shot. “Oh...”

He got you.

“Oh, shit.”

There was this hurried voice that bounced through the walls. Your head attempted to snap up like it had previously done, but this time it was just unsteady. Almost like it was moving in points.  

By the next blink, that practically didn’t even feel like one, another man had made his way round the corner. He also had a gun raised... but, it seemed different.

His general stance, the way he carried the weapon, the expression on his face even if you could only see half of it. It was clear that he had a lot more experience than the last guy. 

They weren’t from the same group. 

The man lowered himself onto one knee beside the body, head still raised cautiously to make sure to keep full awareness of his surroundings while he searched over any pockets he could see. 

And then he stilled. 

You didn’t have to move, or even make a sound, for this guy to spot you.

Within about a millisecond the man had the gun right back in his hands in a way that had you immediately raising your own despite the pins and needles that ached through your muscles.

The world around you was starting to spin, making it more difficult to pay attention to the mans movements. “Don’t... Don’t kill.” Your lips were heavy, the ability to even part them becoming some kind of workout. 

And then, like someone just flicked a switch, it was like all the strength and power in your body decided to dissipate at once. 

For the second time now, you fell. Though, in this instance, it was your back that collided with ground in a way that had your head smacking into the concrete path right afterwards. 

Every inch of your skin felt hot, yet cold at the same time. You were trying to move, wanting nothing more than to get back up and go home. Just curl up in bed and forget this ever happened.

But the ability to even budge a limb had faded from your brain until you couldn’t even feel if your arms were lifted in the air or not.

So, you just laid there, eyes staring blankly up at the sky while your eyelids acted like they had forgotten their main function. “Hey!” 

And right before you gave into that nagging want for them to close, something blocked whatever view you had left, “Kid? Hey, kid, are you... Oh, no-- Kid, can you hear me?” 

You could feel hands on your arms, and soon, one had pressed onto the wound in a way that urged a gurgling sound from your throat. 

“Kid!”

~~~

It took your brain a significant amount of time to realise that you had awoken when the time eventually came. 

The sensations within your body were either mild or piercingly intense. There was no in between. 

Every muscle in your face was rigid, aching in a way that made the want to move diminish within seconds. You were trying to blink, your eyelids remaining heavy and ignorant no matter how many attempts were made. 

It hurt to breathe. Any movement within your torso would stretch the skin closest to your armpit and immediately sent a crackle of fire spreading through it like a shock of electricity. 

Your muscles flinched, almost spasming, as you slowly reached back, trying to grip onto some part of whatever lay beneath you so that you could push yourself up.

There was no attention aimed at any sound that spilt through your lips and it was only when a harsh pain erupted, engulfing your shoulder, that you had realised how loudly a sort of strained yelp had burst from your throat. 

You fell back onto the pillow, the agony in your body burning so hot that it had you light headed.

If it wasn’t for your current state the sudden echo of quick footsteps would’ve registered a lot faster through your ears, and in your mind. 

There was words passing across the air, some may have been aimed at you for a response, but this was the first time you had fully managed to open your eyes since you had actually woken up.

Your head slowly turned as voices continued to echo, muffled no matter how many times it rung in your ears, until your right cheek met with the pillowcase. Your eyes cast through a metal wall, more so the frame of one, which looked as if it previously had some sort of murky glass within.

The place was massive. 

This dim lightly spread throughout most sections as the source above couldn’t reflect on any surface due to the fact that everything around was either a form of black or a gloomy grey. The lights themselves were also the kind of ones that aimed straight down, meaning that it would only cover what was directly beneath. 

“Hey.”

In the centre of the main area was this sort of ring. There was a walkway that cut through the middle so that people could get from one side to the other, and on either side were desks that followed the rim, a plethora of monitors and electronic devices cluttering the surface. 

Some you hadn’t even seen before.

“Hey, uh, kid?”

Your head snapped back into its previous position in a speed that felt like it shook your brain. You squeezes your eyes shut for a good minute before they opened again. 

And after blinking a few times, your vision came back into focus. 

There was this dude stood to your side. He was tall, slim in width with curled mid length hair and a beard that wasn’t connected to the moustache covering his lip.

“Oh, yeah-- Must be pretty disorienting to wake up in a place like this.” The way he sounded matched almost exactly like you had guessed. It was nice. Not harsh and not too soft. 

He held your gaze in such a way that made it seem as if he could see right through you, even taking a slight step back when he noticed how wide and cautious your eyes were set on him, “It might take some time for you to believe us, but I assure you that we don’t want to harm you. You’re all good... Well, I mean, apart-- apart from your injuries.”

“Generally, you’re good-- Or like... Yeah.” 

Your hand lifted from where it had previously flopped and you reached it to your left shoulder, slow and steady. 

Your fingers travelled lower, gliding across the exposed skin before it reached the edge of tank top arm slot. Your movements halted in the space between the end of your shoulder bone and the beginning of your chest. 

Finally, you realised where the source of pain was coming from.

Somehow, the shot taken at you had landed right above your first rib. And from the uncomfortable feeling, constantly there, from what you were guessing was another bandage on your back. It had gone all the way through. 

The dude that had been previously talking cleared his throat after a moment. He was sort of shifting the weight back and forth from one foot to another, unsure of what to do or say which then ended up with him looking away. 

Your attention landed back on him, your arm happily moving back to lay by your side. Though, your eyebrows then furrowed, realising that the guys eyes had settled on something, and it even looked like he was asking a question.

So, after allowing yourself to give into your curiosity, you followed the direction he was looking in. 

You almost jumped out of your skin.

There, leaning against the thing you could barely call a wall, to your right was a guy stood perfectly still with his arms tight across his chest. 

It was that man from earlier. The one that found you. Saved you?

His eyes were already on your own which left the questioning gaze from the other dude unanswered. At first the muscles in his face were visibly tense, crinkled eyebrows, slightly narrowed gaze, jaw clenched tightly. 

And then you looked at him. 

In an instant it was like everything taking over his features eased. He raised his head a single time before it lowered back to where it was usually held. A greeting. 

“I’ll bet your hungry, huh?”

Your attention snapped back to the other dude once again to find that there was this gentle smile pressing into his lips once your eyes met his. 

The question circled round your mind for a good few seconds before it fully processed. It had you thinking, a silence falling within the little room while the hum of electricity barely caught your ears. 

In all honesty hunger had been the last thing on your mind. To solve the sudden mystery was even more difficult since you couldn’t even remember the last thing that passed through your body, other than a bullet. 

Though, right before you could even try to figure out the wanted response was to be, it seemed like your stomach decided to do it for you as it suddenly rumbled through the quiet. 

It may have not exactly sounded like some kind of missile, but considering the building was very echoey and your lack of answer had created a pause within the people stood in the room, it was louder than any other sound at that moment. You were horrified.

The man with his arms crossed dared to huff a quiet laugh through his nose and before you could even send him a look, or give any sort of reaction for that matter, the other guy took a step back with this expression on his face.

He was practically beaming as he clasped his hands together, “Good answer.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed once again, gaze now following the man as he moved round of what you now realised was a cot underneath you and out through the doorway a moment later.

You were going to attempt to continue watching him, wanting to know where he was walking despite the context clues, but after trying to look through the empty frames in the wall, the figure of the quiet dude blocked your view.

And for the first times since your initial meeting, if you could even call it that, your eyes properly took him in. 

Regardless of the position of his spine from the leaned pose, his posture was sharp. Straight like he had to practice it many times. He was tall too, though a little shorter than the other guy. 

The hair on his head looked like it was just growing out from being shaved, the sides a lot shorter than the top. It looked like a marine cut. 

Admittedly, he could’ve done his hair that way cause he simply wanted to. But you saw him earlier. 

He knew the ins and outs, every little detail, of the gun he held strong in his arms. You saw his stance, one that could more commonly only be from having to do it 24/7. 

And where was the most known place where you had to stand at attention almost every day?

Any item of clothing that covered his body was full black, including the shoes and his belt, which was a drastic contrast to any skin that was exposed. It also meant that you could spot any cut or bruise he had very easily. 

There was a good few on his face. Some had become scabs already, looking like they had been there for some time, while others almost looked fresh. The most noticeable appeared like it followed his cheekbone. 

Your eyes immediately snapped away upon realised that you had been looking at him for so long that he had in fact noticed it. I mean, there wasn’t really anything else to occupy his mind. 

You tried to shift your body against the cot, a mixture of wanting to distract yourself and a test to see how much you could move without it hurting. 

But either way, it was hard to do anything without being able to properly use a side of your body.

So, ultimately, you were stuck. Trapped under a blanket which forced you to lay flat on your back, against something that you wished had the same feeling as your bed, while sounds started to echo from what you were guessing was the kitchen. 

“Hey, kid.”

The voice that hit your ears was a lot gruffer than expected, gravelly enough that it almost sounded like it was hurting his throat. The way the words passed through his lips were clear, but also hushed as if he was trying not to be loud for an unknown benefit. “What were you doing out there, hmm?” 

With his stance, you half expected that whatever he wanted to say was going to come out harsh. That he was going to yell and tell you off for something. But he didn’t. He was... actually concerned?

“It’s a decent walk from the store you went to.” he then added on, and now that seemed to get your attention. 

Your head rolled to the side, narrowed gaze finding him with a newfound cautiousness. 

The man in turn must’ve realised the suspicion his wording caused, so he simply gestured to the side with his head, “I got your bag.”

Sure enough, as you moved your lower against the pillow, it was in fact there. The first familiar thing you had seen all day was sat on the ground beside the guy. It may have had some slight rips, some of the material had even been scuffed enough that it was visible. 

But it was there. Zipped up and everything.

Your favourite backpack.

Despite your distance, the bag looked plump with some of the contents clearly poking against the sides of it. All of the items were still in it. Hell, even the water bottle was back in the same side pocket you always put it in.

“We couldn’t find your name in the system,” the man spoke again, and honestly you had forgotten that he was there regardless of the fact that he stood next to where you eyes were aimed. “Did your parents know where you were?”

You looked at him within seconds of the question catching your ears and that dread from earlier began to pool at the bottom of your stomach all over again. 

I mean, you should’ve expected the question at some point.

It was common for you to forget that other people could look at you and see a child, ask the whole ‘where are you parents’ when you had to buy stuff that apparently didn’t seem normal for a child to get, even if it was just household items. 

You will never forget the time you tried to buy scissors. 

But the question still stung. It would make all of the memories of countless things flood right back until it was fresh in your mind, creating a wave of nostalgia that you hated at this point. 

Your head slowly rolled back to its previous position, your gaze now cast up at the rotting, grey ceiling while a deep breath seeped through your nose. Your body practically deflated when it went back out. 

Like before, you didn’t need to say anything for the guy to understand the situation.

Obviously, from your position, you couldn’t clearly see him as anything more than a blurred blob from the corner of your eye, but he had sort of loosened his crossed arms. Was the look of loss that clear on you?

How could he even notice it that quick?

Your body almost jolted when he cleared his throat and pain shot through your shoulder that had you biting back a grunt.

“Listen, we’re not-- We’re not going to hurt you... all right?” His tone was different this time. Lighter in a way that reduced the grumble of his voice, even if it didn’t sound unpleasant. “You’ve been here for a few days so that the, uh, big guy could fix up your shoulder.”

“That’s all.”

From the feeling of his gaze aimed in your direction, you could tell that he was doing what you had done, except he was more so trying to analyse your movement no matter how miniscule. 

It made you nervous enough that your mind was trying to zone in on the sounds coming from the kitchen, fiddling with the fabric of the blanket. But that just meant that a silence had started to layer. 

“Can you speak?”

Your body stiffened within a matter of seconds. 

At this point there was no reason for you to remain quiet. It was unclear as to why it had even been done in the first place. Was it to conceal your voice? Hide your identity? 

Even then, they had already ready seen your face and might possibly have looked through your backpack. The things they’ve could’ve known about you were unknown.

Maybe it was that thing you were told as a kid that kept you holding your tongue. You know, the whole stranger danger thing? Do not interact with people that you don’t know unless absolutely necessary. 

People seemed to get stuck on specific moments in the past regardless of it directly links to a moment of stress, or trauma, if you remembered correctly what that article said. Maybe that was your thing?

Your contemplative eyes flickered over the ceiling above for another moment before they finally made the decision to move, and so did your head. Once again, it rolled to the side until your right cheek touched the pillow.

You met his eyes. His gaze anything but harsh no matter how long a silence remained.

This guys wasn’t strange. 

I mean, the concept of waking up in some massive building that you didn’t recognise with two other dudes that you had never met before was in fact a little, sure.

But there was no reason given beyond that as to why you should fear either of them. Be scared of them. 

After all the dude talking to you had in fact saved your life.

You sniffed, that same feeling of nervousness making a comeback the longer the eye contact was held. It had you needing to look away for a few seconds before your eyes went right back. You stiffly nodded your head. 

The man straightened his back against the metal, his spine probably tired of the frame digging into it. His gaze sort of narrowed for a moment. Maybe a few questions sprung into his mind? Maybe he was judging you, or needed to sneeze? Who knows.

“You just won’t.” He nodded his head once, the look in his eyes switching to something unreadable as he got the message despite the lack of words, “That’s... No. No, I get it.”

“Well, I’m Frank. Uh,” he began, dragging out the last sound for a little bit as he tried to locate something through the wall behind you, “Dude in the kitchens name is David. I usually call him Lieberman, that’s... It’s his last name-- He’s the big guy I was talking about. Dude who fixed up your arm.”

“I tried to help too, but, uh... Not exactly my field of expertise.” 

You were about to figure out some kind of gesture to make in response so that you wouldn’t leave him hanging again. And had even started to move your arm. 

But then that name cycled through your head once more. 

Frank... Castle. 

Frank Castle.

It seemed that the cogs had made their final turn once again. His face found their link to certain memories in your mind.

Holy shit. 

He was the guy on the news a while back. The dude had been deemed a vigilante as he had been running around and killing bad people-- Well, it was practically only you and a few other people that thought they were the bad guys.

Either way, after that trial thing, the man that was currently stood to the side of you had supposedly died. Killed in an explosion on some kind of boat, if you remembered correctly.

I mean, it could be that you were the one who died and this was just what came after. And honestly if you were still as delirious as you were before it might have been believable, but that pulsing burning in your shoulder said otherwise. 

So, it was true. He really was here in the flesh, and all in one piece. 

Frank Castle was alive. 

Your expression, and maybe how intensely you had been staring at him, must’ve given away your thought pattern as he sort of tilted his head when he noticed the shift in your eyes, “You know me?” This time your gaze remained unfleeting in the line of attention. 

Frank didn’t seem at all worried about the realisation of his identity. In fact the only change in his expression was done to display his curiosity to the new information. 

Sure, worst comes to worst, he has the upper hand at this moment and it would probably be the same at any other. He could do whatever he needs to do to make sure that you wouldn’t blab before you blinked even once. 

But from his worn out state, and the way he interacted with you, it was visible that he wasn’t going to do that. He must’ve been fighting for quite some time before he had stumbled upon you. 

Why the hell was he even there? Out in the open in a place like that?

Who were those other guys?

Regardless of the want to let your mind flow down that rabbit hole, you were fronted with your previous realisation as your eyes actually focused on Frank again.

You were right. Frank  Castle wasn’t the bad guy.

Without paying attention to it, there seemed to be this smile that began to curl at the corners of your mouth. You moved your head began to move back to its your previous position, your eyes wanting to find the discoloured ceiling to zone out on in a way that further made you forget about your pain--

Shoes suddenly scuffed against the hard ground in a way that stilled all over your movements. Your gaze flickered to whatever had joined you in the room as apparently you had missed the approaching footstep.

It was David, the height difference between the two guys now a lot clearer as he had stopped beside the man whose arms were yet to uncross. “Can you hold this for a second?” Until now. 

Frank sort of looked at the man for a moment, eyebrows furrowed again before he complied to the request. And the moment the plate had been taken into his hands, David moved as if on autopilot. “All right,”

He wound round the foot of your cot, taking back the same position he stood in when you woke up, “Gonna need to sit up so you can actually digest this shit.”

He felt a little bad when he saw the look on your face, though he remained still while you prepared yourself, starting to fidget with his hands. He didn’t want to touch you without permission, but it appeared that your eyes were already closed.

You slowly but surely moved the arm of your injured shoulder to sling across your torso, hoping the position would stop it from moving about too much. And then you braced yourself, awaiting whatever sensations were about to come. 

By the time a hand had been placed on your body, your teeth were already gritted. One was placed on your back, a way to properly bring guide you into the needed position, while the other gently cupped the back of your head so that everything would move in unison. 

“Deep breath.”

The pain was immediate. It was such a thing that purely seared up a side of your body. Engulfed everything in its path.

It was impossible to see from your closed eyes, but there was a reaction from the man stood to the side when a slight whine escaped your throat. He had stepped forward, looking as if he was about to reach out if he didn’t have something in one of his hands. 

It was thoughtless. A movement that he had undone the moment he had realised by pressing back against the wall. But it happened nonetheless. 

David was muttering stuff of assurance, many forms of sentences letting lose into the air. You couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t catch onto a singular word. 

All you could think about was the pain. How stupid it was that you made the decision to take that route. How you didn’t run back the way you came after that first shot. Or how you didn’t even end up trying run until it was too late. 

Your legs bent at the knees the more your torso raised, as if trying to protect it of something, which slightly kicked up your blanket and made the heels of your feet dig into the cot below. “There you go, there you go!”

It was like a ripping of a band aid. 

At first, it was the stage of holding onto the edge, trying to hype yourself to get it over and done with. And then it was off. It may give a twinge of pain that lingered more than wanted, but overall the act had been complete.

“Right on, that’s you done.”

And so had yours. 

The biggest breath of relief huffed out of your mouth in a way that had David wanting to lightly pat your back, but it could accidently hurt you. So, instead, he resorted to turning his attention Frank, hurriedly gesturing towards the thing he held.

The man in question seemed to shake his head as if trying stifle his amusement, though he took a step forward to hand over the plate either way.

And then, by the next time you had blinked, it was held out in your direction. You just looked at it for a moment. 

It was a sandwich. One that may have been made with the most simple ingredients, and was probably the exact replica of what you would picture in your head upon hearing the name, but for some reason your whole body yearned for it. 

The plate was in your hands within seconds.

David took a step back, a slight smile reappearing on his lips at the progress. He gestured to the plate you held in the same position and then towards your mouth, seeming like he couldn’t get himself to stand still, “Eat up.”

You were. 

Oh, a thousand percent, you were getting ready to chow down on something, since the last time solid food had been eaten was probably the day you had gotten shot. And even then, you had no clue as to when that was.

However, right as you were about to bring the plate onto your lap, grab onto the sandwich and consume it with the upmost excitement... You paused. Stopped right in your tracks. Eating by yourself felt a little weird.

You looked back at David. 

It took him a moment to realise that your eyes were on him again. But when he did, he sort of rocked on his feet. His eyebrows furrowed as he sent a look towards Frank, “What, um... Is it-- Is it bad, or something?”

There was a mixture of confusion and almost offence tugging at certain features and it had your head shaking immediately.

Within the next minute, it was almost like a game of charades as you attempted to relay the words in your mind. 

The plate remained in the hand it did before. You bent your left arm at the elbow, trying to avoid any movement that would attack the area surrounding your wound, and you gestured. 

The first time you pointed your index finger at him and then at the plate, but he merely blinked. So, you then did it in reverse, directing the line of attention to the plate and then him. 

Frank even seemed confused as he watched with narrowed eyes, apparently unable to deduced the situation himself which still left David with nothing. “Kid, I don’t... I can’t understand what you’re trying to say, are you-- are you allergic to something?” 

“Are you asking me what’s in it? If I made it, what--”

Biting back the biggest sigh of your life, and in the fastest way that you could in that moment, you restored to just holding out the whole plate towards him. Even repeated the previous gesture one final time to make your point. 

“Oh,” David dragged out the sound as he began to nod. Finally, he understood, “Yeah, man, I’m boutta make my own.”

He remained for only a moment more, watching as your plate slowly lowered to your lap so that it wouldn’t drop. And then he started walking again, moving back around the edge of the cot before making his way through the doorway.

Franks eyes were already on your own by the time your head turned in his direction, as if he expected it to happen. 

This time without accompanying the movement with gestures, you simply held out the plated food towards him. Franks head shook instantly, he even waved a hand, “It’s for you, kid. Need to get that strength back.” 

His eyes directed towards the kitchen almost immediately after. He was either counting on David possibly making him one or waiting for him to leave the kitchen so that he could do it himself.

Thing is though, he only gave you a reason as to why you should keep the sandwich held for yourself.

He didn’t say no. 

The plate was brought back to your legs, flat against your thighs, and then you began looking around. Your eyes scanned across any close surface for something that could be used as a cloth, something to wipe your hands with, but there was no luck. 

You resorted to just scrubbing your palms, and more importantly your finger tips, against the cleanest clothing you had under the blanket. And then you grabbed the sandwich. 

Despite what Frank thought was going to happen by the time his attention was once again redirected towards you, when the sandwich was held horizontally in your grasp, instead of bring it to your mouth and taking a bite. You began... pulling at it each side? 

It started to rip.

“What are you doing?” he questioned pretty much immediately, his face and voice both riddle with confusion. And maybe even a little disturbance. But that didn’t stop your movements at all. 

In fact the only time you had stopped was when the entire thing had been torn through the middle, completely halved. However, even after that, you reached for one of the parts. You took it from the plate, stuffing it into the hand of your unmoving arm.

And then you held out the plate all over again to the man with very furrowed eyebrows. 

He just looked at the poorly halved sandwich for a moment, a part of it being more of the contents that the bread, and then his eyes found yours. There was an unreadable expression within them.

When he still didn’t take it, and due to the fact that your arm was starting to get tired, you redid your act of holding it out towards him. 

And this time he couldn’t withhold a response. 

Frank scoffed, shaking his head in the same amusement from earlier while he stared at the plate calling his name, “You’re very persistent, aren’t ya.” 

Despite his point still standing, the consistent want for you to get the nutrients needed to fully recover, it was like he couldn’t say no to you. At least to your face. So. Frank took the plate.

The next few minutes were spent by the two of you choosing the perfect side of the sandwich and then going to town, chowing down on it like it was the first one either of you had ever had. 

And man, that David could sure make a meal, even if it was just slapping ingredients between slices of bread.

“Damn!”

Seemed like someone else agreed with you.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing all this time, huh, Lieberman? Cookin’” Franks words were incredibly muffled despite his constant chewing, but either way the sound still echoed. A laugh soon followed while something poured, “What else would I do, man? Wasn’t just gonna do nothing.”

“Well, you can add cooking to your... I don’t know, list of talents or something.” Every time that man spoke, his head lowered right back down so that he could see the plate, taking another massive bite that you were just waiting for him to start choke on.

“Why did you... Why did you say it like that?” David's voice was more monotonous than usual, either playing fake offence or he was too preoccupied with arranging the order of his sandwich ingredients. 

You took another bite, a piece of lettuce almost falling onto the blanket without you knowing. Frank turned towards the kitchen again, speaking midway through putting a part of the sandwich in his mouth, “Like what?” A plethora of crumbs fell onto the plate in a way that made your nose crinkle.

“Like... Are you lying to me? Lying isn’t very nice, Frank.” 

“Nah, come on, man, I wouldn’t-- I wouldn’t say that If I didn’t mean it, you know that-- You could put these in a-- a--  a sandwich shop--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay,” David practically grumbled at this point, placing down what sounded like a butter knife on the counter before he sniffed, “That at least mean that our little friend likes it too?”

Frank turned to you, placing the little chunk of sandwich he had left onto his plate before he rubbed the fingers that touched it together. 

You swallowed down your bites, the act proving to be a little harder to from the lack of eating solid food, and noted the fact that he was awaiting some form of answer to relay to David. 

Your sandwich was finished by now. It wasn’t a contest but it was almost wild how fast it had been consumed. And now you sat there, wiping your hand against your trousers while attempting to get any food stuck between your teeth. 

And then you cleared your throat, your nose scrunching for a second when the action ended up shaking your chest a little too much, “Y/n.”

Frank had turned his towards the kitchen moments prior. He had parted his lips, even slightly leaned back against the wall to get a proper view of the man awaiting an answer through the empty frames. 

Now his head snapped in your direction, eyebrows raising more than you had even seen, “What was that?”

You may have made the ultimate decision to use your voice in the first place, however, having that gaze of his on you once again caused this overwhelming feeling to surge through your body. 

Your spine had straightened, this time managing to ignore the shock of pain that hit your system, while your eyes widened just a smidge.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

The echo of David's voice had caused you to turn to where he stood in the kitchen, still busied with making another one of his masterpieces. It was something done half out of anxiousness and just wanting to distract yourself.

And then it made you think.

Surrounding you was this big, more empty than full, abandoned building. The only other people there was Frank, a man who was supposed to be dead, and David... who you presumed was also most likely to be the same due to their team up. 

If they were going to kill you, or hurt you, they would have done so already. 

But even then, when you woke up this morning you hadn’t been restrained or anything. There was nothing keeping you there other than the fact that they wanted to treat your wounds. 

A deep breath filtered through your nose as your eyes slowly met with Franks again. 

His expression was practically the same as it was before you had looked away, giving you a patience no one ever had. The gaze he held was warm. Encouraging. 

Thus, you swallowed once again.

“My... name.” Your voice was hoarse from waking up not that long ago, but also from it’s lack of use. There was always this feeling in your throat as if something was stuck in it, and you coughed, the urge to squeeze your eyes shut presenting itself yet again when it shifted your shoulder.

But you composed yourself, sucking in another breath and rubbing your hands against your legs while David was still left with no answer, “It’s Y/n.”

Franks head had already been nodding before you had finished saying your set of words. He pursed his lips, finally swallowing down the bite he had previously taken.

Frank sniffed, turning his head towards the kitchen yet again. Though this time it seemed like he did so to conceal the change of his facial expression more than to get David's attention. “You hear that, Lieberman?”

Regardless of his attempts to hide his reaction, the smile was clear on his lips. Such a one that it had even reached the skin around his eyes as they started to crinkle.

He looked back at you. There was this emotion on his face that remained unchanging. It seemed like a fondness, but at the same time he almost looked... proud?

“Y/n likes it.”

[lululandd]

oh how i wish i was watching a bootleg porn version of punisher right now so this would actually lead somewhere

[sailoryuns]

TEACHER’S PET ─── SJY

summary: it’s all fun and games making your professor get all flustered by your actions, until he actually does something about it and reminds you who’s the real one in charge.

genre. sim jaeyun x f!reader | college au, teacher x student

warnings. smut, age gap (9 year difference), daddy/sir kink, hand kink (i love jake’s hands what can i say), fingering, oral (m. rec), unprotected s*x (whoopsies), hitting from the back, spanking, breeding, light degradation, use of pet names (kitten, baby, doll, etc), slight possessive!jake?? if you blink wc -> 2.8k

you knew exactly what you were doing trying to provoke your professor the other day. it’s a little game you like to play with him, watching him get all hot and bothered in public places knowing he couldn’t do a single thing about it. that’s why you wore the tiniest, micro skirt you could find in your closet— which barely covered anything, you’ll flash someone if you bent over even the slightest.

during class when mr. sim asked everyone to come and grab their test result papers from his desk, he called your name out trying his best not to make it so painfully obvious that he was staring at your body. you drove him insane the first day he laid his eyes on you, fully obsessed and captivated by your ethereal beauty. he almost moaned out loud when he saw you bend down to pick the test paper up, “accidentally” dropping it when you turned around, giving him the view of a fucking lifetime.

he was so going to make you pay for that next time he saw you. as much as he wanted to just say fuck it and ruin you straight after class was over, he had some important matters to take care of. fortunately for him when he sees you again he’ll have much more time on his precious hands. more time to have his way with you and punish you for all the sins you were about to make him commit.

he thought all the little tricks you had up your sleeve were finished, but not just yet. thinking you couldn’t get any more bold than wearing that tight, short skirt, you came to class wearing a plain white button up top, but it had some alterations to it. you tied the ends into a knot, making it into a cute crop top, also leaving most of the top buttons undone and the collar flared out. the outline of the hot pink bra you wore underneath could be visibly seen with lace detail peeking out from the opening of the shirt. he also noticed something… you changed your belly jewelry. the one you had before was a simple silver barbell with a heart gemstone, but the one you wore today had a diamond playboy bunny dangling at the end.

this game of yours isn’t funny anymore, it’s pure torture at this point. your presence was enough to take his mind into unthinkable places, doing everything in his power to get through this hour lecture without stuttering or faltering his words. even some of the students were noticing his sudden change in behavior, usually he spoke in a sophisticated, eloquent manner but today he was acting noticeably different.

“what’s up with mr. sim? he’s talking super fast and not as calm and collected as usual.” your classmate aria voices her concerns next to you, not knowing a single clue that you were the cause of it. you were making it extra hard on him too, staring at his beautifully crafted face while seductively sucking on a cherry lollipop.

every time he’d look over at you you’d make sure to twirl your tongue around it, foreshadowing what you’ll be doing to him later on. thank god the room was dark besides the projector, he would’ve been extremely embarrassed had someone seen the massive boner he was sporting under his slacks. you were getting such a kick out of making him a flustered mess, not caring of the repercussions that’ll come with it later, you’ll end up enjoying it anyway.

it’s absolutely unfair that he couldn’t wrap his hands around your pretty neck, push you up against the wall and fuck you senseless like the dirty slut you are. he will in due time though, it’ll all be worth the wait in the end..

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

once class was over, as usual there’d be a line of girls waiting to speak with mr. sim. most of their questions didn’t even pertain to the actual lecture, they just wanted to say they had a conversation with him. he was quite the ladies man and very popular among campus, he was mostly known for just being that really hot english professor everyone wanted to fuck though.

“awww, i was hoping you’d stay a little longer so we could talk more!” an annoyingly cheerful female student says to him, trying to act all cute and nonchalant by twirling her hair around but failing miserably.

“me too! i need some help on starting my thesis mr. sim, could you maybe give me a private session on how i should go about writing it?” another hopeless girl chimes in to ask, her voice was so nasally you wanted to cover your ears with both hands. these girls will throw themselves at him like it’s a brothel but you didn’t need to do any of that, he was waiting specifically for you and no one else.

“sorry girls but i’ve got other important plans after this that needs my immediate attention. i’ll see you all next class but please get going, it’s getting late!” his eyes never left yours as he said that, no one in this room mattered to him besides you.

you could tell the female students gathered around him were devastated, most of them pouting and trudging away in sheer defeat. it was laughable how they still try making advances all just to get politely rejected. you wouldn’t say it inherently makes you jealous, but their obnoxiously tone deaf behavior was enough to turn your mood sour.

you head towards the exit but his voice halts your movement any further, clearing his throat before gaining your attention, “ahem, excuse me miss.”

it didn’t take much for you to realize he was calling after you, who else would he be talking to? some of the others girls turned around to see if he was addressing them but he shooed them away to leave. he went feral the minute your gaze landed in his direction, subtly licking his lips while looking down at your perfect cleavage.

if he doesn’t fuck you and dump all his cum in you sooner or later he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.. once he could see that everyone’s left, he wasted absolutely no time doing what he’s been fantasizing about for days. an ominous smirk forming across his lips as he backs you up against the door, fully shutting it with both of your body weight combined.

“mr. sim what’re you doing—” “shut up.”

before you could even get another word out his large hand is wrapped around your throat, crashing his lips into yours without any warning. he kisses with so much force and energy, stroking the left side of your face with his free hand. the placement around your neck disappears once he travels down to your chest, roughly cupping one of your breasts, kneading it through your shirt. pulling away for a moment, a long string of saliva connecting both your lips from his wet, sloppy kissing.

“fuck.. been waiting to do this shit again for so long… also what did i say about you speaking formally to me outside of class? i’m only jaeyun, daddy, or sir when no one’s around.” the strict tone of his voice instills an inexplicable sense of fear within you, having little to no idea what he’s capable of or what he’s even thinking on doing next.

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

jaeyun had the most gorgeous hands you’d ever seen, the visible veins showing and his beautifully tanned skin was enough to make you go crazy. he noticed you staring at them too, viciously smiling at himself once an idea struck his mind, “open.” you didn’t hesitate to obey his order, mouth inviting two of his fingers to take in, eagerly sucking on them as you look into his eyes. he would never tell you this but watching you do this alone could simply make him combust, he doesn’t have to ask twice for you to do anything, you’re his perfect little sub.

“fuck, keep going.” jaeyun’s low groans make you even wetter as you continue sucking on his long, veiny fingers, staring at him all innocently knowing damn well you’re about to get fucked like no tomorrow. a slight moan slips out as you bob your head up and down, making his cock twitch from the vibrations going up his spine.

“you like my fingers, baby?” his head tilts to the side in amusement, loving the obscene view in front of him.

“mhmm,” you nod with your mouth stuffed full of his digits, taking them in deeper as you would his cock.

“everything you do is so fucking hot… how are you even real.” he husks, biting his lip at your filthy actions. your saliva coats his fingers deliciously when he detaches from your mouth, loving the way your chin is covered is glistening with drool.

he drags his hands down lower to reach the hem of the pleated skirt you were wearing, hiking it up to gain further access. your heart almost stops when you feel him slide your panties to the side, letting out a high- pitched sound when he sinks those same two digits from your mouth into your soaking cunt.

“nngghh, daddy,” your voice becomes shaky as his fingers slide into your wet folds, hearing the sweet sounds your arousal makes. your hips involuntarily grind against his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he feverishly rubs your clit while fingering you.

“i want you to suck my cock so i can cum all over that pretty face of yours, if do that for me i’ll make sure you get straight A’s the rest of this semester. sound like a deal my sweet kitten?” he already knew you were going to agree, you needed to pass this class in order to graduate and what better way to get an easy A than to fuck for it? you were willing to do just about anything it took to please jaeyun.

“y-yes sir.” you comply right away, whining from the sudden emptiness as he pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips as he sucks off the juices.

“mmm.. tastes like heaven.” he will truly never get enough of you, ever.

you quickly drop to your knees to undo his belt and unbutton his pants, greedily licking your lips as you finally get to suck him off. jaeyun instantly fell in love with you when you gave him head for the first time, he’s never wanted any other woman to touch him since. you were the only one who’s ever been able to get him to cum just from sucking his cock alone. as you slide his briefs down his member springs out with a small bead of pre-cum leaking out. your lips kiss his pinkish-red tip, dipping your tongue out to lick it up.

his cock flinched at any little slight stimulation, he didn’t jerk off or anything since that day he saw you in that tight mini skirt, wanting to save all of it just for you. opening your mouth wider to take his full length, your eyes begin watering when the end of his shaft hits the back of your throat.

“already taking it all so well like the good little whore you are. look so fucking hot like that with your mouth full of my cock.” his hands grab fistful of your hair, pulling hard as he forces more of himself down your throat.

you gag and choke a bit from his hips rutting into you, but that doesn’t stop you from sucking his cock as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do on earth. giving all your efforts to please him, looking up with bright, big eyes while you deepthroat. your pussy was uncomfortably wet, you could feel your slick leaking past your thighs. moaning as you continue bobbing your head up and down, feeling him throbbing in your warm mouth from the sensations.

“yeah baby… just like that keep going.. fuck…” jaeyun swung his head back in pleasure, pulling your hair tighter as he feels himself getting close.

you could sense he was close too by his erratic movements, and you know exactly how to get him to cum. you collect more saliva as much as you could to make it even messier and sloppier, some of it almost dripping from the corners of your mouth as you kept going. he felt like the end was nearing for him, seeing flashes of white as he grunts loudly, bucking his hips up in a frenzy.

“you’re gonna make me cum… better swallow of all of it like a good fucking girl.” you nod, feeling him pulsate even more in your mouth, hallowing your cheeks around the base as you send him to a higher state of pleasure. the back of your throat gets hit with shots of hot cum, milking every last bit of him until you know for sure he’s done.

“you truly have no idea what you do to me y/n, do you?” he pants while trying to catch his breath, looking down at the beautiful mess he’s created.

“i swallowed it all daddy, look.” you open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue to show him it was all empty.

“did such a good job for me, you deserve a reward.” jaeyun couldn’t wait to finally have his cock inside of you, it’s been long overdue..

“bend over,” jaeyun orders you again, doing as you’re told, you get up from your knees towards the desk with your face down and ass up in the air.

“fucking love this ass so much.. god, you’re so fucking perfect.” he grunts, tightly gripping onto your hips and squeezing your ass, he couldn’t stop biting his lip at how sexy your body was. your body jerks involuntarily when you feel a harsh slap to your right butt cheek, hard enough to leave a handprint on your delicate flesh. you’d usually cry out but you’ve gotten so used to it, you’re so unbearably wet that you can’t wait for him to ruin you with his huge cock.

“ahhh! daddy…” you whimper once he slides his length inside, not even bothering with going slow he slams his hips right into you. keeping both hands steady on the desk you do your best not to scream, you were still in a public classroom and other people could hear if you were being too loud.

“fuckkk…” jaeyun’s mind drew blank as he buried himself fully into your cunt, ramming his cock into you with brash movements. his pace rough and fast, slapping your ass some more as his strokes get deeper. a moaned so loud at one point you thought someone definitely heard that, jaeyun was pissed. if word ever got out that he was fucking a student he’d lose his job in a heartbeat, he forcefully covers your mouth with his hand, muffling all your moans as he fucks you harder.

“you want me to get caught because your dumbass wanted to scream out like a slut? be fucking quiet or i’ll punish you even harder than i’m already doing.” his degrading words made you feel so inferior, so small compared to him, but he was right, you needed to shut the fuck up or else your little secret will get out.

your whole body felt like it was on fire, burning up from the inside as he slides half his length out and pushes it back in. he repeats this actions a few more times then fully buries it inside you again, making you do nothing but clench around him.

“mmpphh, think i’m gonna cum again doll,” jaeyun’s hands slip from your mouth to play with your clit, “where do you want me to cum, baby?” he already knows your answer, he just loves to hear you say it.

“inside sir… need you inside..” you shamelessly beg, throwing your ass back against him to match his movements.

“your belly’s gonna be so full of my cum, gonna drain every last drop of it into this pretty little cunt… you belong to me and me only.” all you did was nod your head ferociously at his dirty talk, hoping for the love of god that he’ll give you exactly what need.

his movement staggered when you fluttered around him, feeling a knot untie in his stomach that made him unleash everything. he was so far gone, nothing mattered to him besides spilling his release in you, and once he hit a certain spot it was over him. his motion stilled as he finally reaches his climax, mouth hanging agape while pumping all of his hot cum into you. you came quickly after, panting and breathing heavily from how good he just fucked you. jaeyun was happy with the results as he pulled out, watching the cream seeping out of your used and abused hole. you were so undeniably sexy and it made him even more obsessed with you.

“baby.. you’re going to be the death of me one day, i’m sure of it.” he whispers sweetly, body collapsing on top of yours from pure exhaustion.

- 完 ♡︎

[zushigirl]

@elen-tari2 I’m obsessed!

Reconnaissance

Fic written for Kastle Christmas 24: I’ll Be Home For Christmas prompt. Kinda nervous to share this one, but here we go!

Summary: Micro sends Frank to check on Karen with no intel. Aka another take on my headcanon that Karen's mom died on Christmas Eve.

Excerpt:

“Didn’t take you as one for serious day drinking,” he said at last. “You been hanging out with that Jessica Jones?”

She shook her head, her expression shuttered. “If I start early, I can spend most of the day passed out, and be mostly fine to go to Foggy and Marci’s by lunch tomorrow.” She drained her glass.

“Sounds like you’ve worked the timing out,” he observed. “Doing this often?”

“Just— just a couple of times a year.” She bit her lip. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain it to you how it is. With anniversaries.”

Oh shit.

“Is that what this is?” he said softly. “Was starting to think you just hated Christmas.”

[rosedpetal]

Behave is SOOO hot! I can’t help but imagine giving Bucky a taste of his own medicine. Let’s see how he reacts when he’s suddenly too aware of the men thirsting over his wife and maybe a little bratty twist that while his wife doesn’t entertain them, she also doesn’t stop them, bonus if she keeps Bucky at a distance. then bam, he snaps. Filthy jealous/possessive smut. I’m sorry imma see my way out ur work short circuited my brain 😭

girly, he'd be PISSED

Part I | Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: smut.

Minors, do not interact.

To say you were enjoying your little power trip was an understatement.

Dressed in a long gown, with your hair up in the most beautiful bun Bucky's ever seen, a few locks loose to frame your face, and your makeup done by a professional, you were a vision to behold.

Unfortunately, it wasn't for his eyes only.

Being the wife of an Avenger meant dealing with people and fancy events. Most of the time, Bucky accepted the attention with grace, and then moved on with his life.

But on some very rare occurrences, his fans and the press also turned their attention to you.

It wasn't that Bucky wasn't proud of the gorgeous woman by his side — he gave you one of those freaking Darry engagement rings that could only be bought once by person, and married you only half a year later. 'I don't wanna give you any more time that could make you change your mind', were his exact words to you. He was insane about you. You were the love of his life, and he overcame so much to make sure he would be worthy of your love.

He worshipped the ground you walked on. And he wasn't afraid to tell you that.

But just like a man born in his time, Bucky was extremely possessive of his wife.

And he couldn't stand the two photographers flashing their cameras at you and asking you to 'turn around', 'blow a kiss' or 'smile'.

Bucky's mood was changing quickly, as he analyzed every micro expression on their faces as they took pictures of you. Your face, your dress, your fucking curves.

And you were gracefully accepting every little praise, your smile a little too bright for Bucky's liking.

While he tried to detain his thoughts to going for that dark place, were he would bash these assholes' heads on the concrete until they were beyond recognition, he couldn't help but wonder what had triggered such a reckless behavior from you.

Did he do something that riled you up during this week? He remembers unloading the dishwasher the moment you asked for it. Sometimes he forgets his shoes in the middle of the living room, but it surely couldn't be it.

His eyes darkened in realization when he finally figured you out. Letting these men fawn over you like you were a free woman... That was payback.

Bucky was very aware of your territorial nature when it came to him. For fucks sake, you let the whole world know when you were pissed at another woman for eye fucking him just by the way your eyebrows furrowed and your lips pressed in a thin line, — which once Thor made the mistake of pointing to, and the mean mug you gave the Asgardian still haunted his dreams to this day.

So, Bucky teased you for it. It was okay, right? It was just light banter. You couldn't be possibly punishing him for such a petty reason right the fuck now?

His mind took a quick turn to all the life choices he made that had lead to this exact moment. You giggling and tossing your hair while other men undressed you with their eyes.

It doesn't matter that they were simply doing their jobs. He could see how long they were taking to photograph you when... Well, Bucky was the famous one.

The moment one of the photographers' hands went for you, Bucky instantly reacted, putting himself between you and the fucking moron that seemed to conveniently forget that you were a married woman and your husband was right there.

"Don't you dare touch my wife. Keep running your fucking mouth and taking your fucking pictures and I'll show you why they used to call me Winter Soldier." Bucky's voice was low and lacking any emotion, his vibranium hand wrapped tightly around the dude's wrist.

Bucky's threat wasn't directed at you, but it went straight to your core. You felt all warm and fuzzy inside as he went all alpha mode.

The two guys quickly excused themselves after that, and you let out a light chuckle.

"Thank God, they finally left. I was worried for a second they were gonna blind me with- hey, what are you doing? Bucky, what the fuck?" You whispered as he practically dragged you back to the waiting car, quickly sending a text to Sam to let him know you two were leaving early.

He opened the door for you and you quickly scooped inside, knowing your husband was mad. Bucky sat next to you and told the driver to roll up the partition wall.

"Bucky, talk to me!" You finally snapped, annoyed. "Why are we leaving early?"

"Because-" Bucky turned to you, interrupting himself when he noted how loud he was being, lowering his voice on the next words, and pointing his index finger to your face, eyes boring into yours. "Because you decided to piss me the hell off tonight, and I'm gonna have to teach you how properly a married woman should behave."

Your eyes widened in indignation as you threw your bag in the couch. "Excuse me? How properly I should what? I'm sorry to inform you, honey, but this is the 21st fucking century, not the damn 40s."

Bucky chuckled, humorlessly. The audacity of you. To twirl your hair locks while smiling at other men flirting with you openly, and now pretend he was the bad guy for reprimanding you.

"You're gonna keep your mouth shut until we get home, and if you so much as try to be cute with me, I promise that what I have in store for you is gonna turn ten times worse."

You raised your eyebrow. Maybe you were looking for trouble today, but you sure as hell weren't about to let Bucky undermine you over his bruised ego.

"What are you now, a caveman? Is your masculinity so fragile that you can't stand the fact that I can be lusted after too? When you smirk at me across the room while women are flaunting themselves to you, you think you're the only one entitled to make me feel insecure, as if you're a goddamn prize?"

"Y/N-"

"No, please, enlighten me on why the hell you think you can joke with your friends about my possessiveness and act exactly the same, then have the guts to belittle me for it!"

"Dollface-"

"You know what? I was only posing-"

"Goddamnit, will you shut up?" Bucky snapped. "I don't smirk at you across the room to show off and make you jealous, I do it because I thought it was our thing! Some delusional girl will come to me, I'll playfully smile at you because we both joke on how ridiculous they are! I'm not trying to make you insecure, you insane little thing, I think it's cute how you react every time, and how you never direct your anger at me. And by the way, I never tossed or twirled my hair for any woman, or giggled, just to spite you!"

You clenched your fists. No. Even if he was right (which he wasn't), you couldn't just give in and apologize right now. You had reasons to be pissed, you were tired of being teased, as if you were the only one in the relationship that was overly jealous. You knew your words should've been measured, but right now, you couldn't care less. You crossed your arms, voice neutral as you gave him the fatal blow:

"You know what I think, James? I think you're not enough of a man, and what I just did broke your little illusion of power. That's what got your lady panties in a twist."

Bucky's jaw clenched, a flash of anger coursing through his veins. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Are you deaf?"

Two seconds of you staring at him with your coy little act, he was fuming and he practically lunged at you. You squealed and giggled when he pushed you to lay on your back in the leather seat of the limo, breathless and flustered.

"You little minx. You're about to get spanked in the back of a limo like the whore you are." Bucky hissed in your ear, maneuvering you so you were laying on your stomach. He impatiently raised the long skirts of your dress, not even giving you time to prepare for the series of blows he delivered to your poor ass.

Your giggles quickly stopped, and they turned to whimpers.

"C'mon, brat, tell me I'm not a man now." He nibbled your earlobe, pressing his chest against your back. "I dare you. Go ahead, baby. I'm waiting."

Your ass had his fingerprints now, a beautiful shade of red in them. More beautiful than the blush on your cheeks. Your lip was quivering when he was done, finally showing mercy on your rear. You sighed in relief and he gave you a wolfish grin, his hand sliding between your thighs and collecting your arousal, gently spreading it on your folds, his voice low and full of purpose:

"We're just getting started, baby girl."

"This is not fair." You whined, your words dying down when his index and middle finger entered you, opening you up for him. You bit your hand when curled his digits, brushing against your spongy spot.

"What's not fair? Do you want me to stop?" Bucky teased, kissing your neck.

It was getting hot inside the limo, with your gown and your husband crowding you against the leather seats. The sweat was quickly forming in your skin, and it was a bit uncomfortable, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him to stop.

"No... I just-"

"I just-" Bucky mocked you, clicking his tongue. "Can't even speak anymore?"

"It's hot." You complained, in a whiny tone.

Bucky sighed, sitting up to turn the air conditioner on, the cold breeze welcomed to you both. His fingers never left your pussy, and he scissored you hard, smirking at how you tried to keep it down so the poor driver wouldn't hear you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from you, pulling your head back by your hair and shoving his slick digits on your mouth, which you eagerly licked clean. Bucky undid his slacks, groaning in relief when he freed his rock hard length from the constricting fabric. He pulled you to his lap, your back to his chest, your thighs spread over his.

"Think you can ride me without hitting your head in the ceiling?" He whispered on your ear as you grabbed his cock and aligned him at your entrance.

"Hmmm... Probably no." You looked up.

"Then stay still while Daddy fucks you."

Your mouth hung open when he slammed into you, harder than you expected, without giving you time to get used to his thickness. He shoved his tie on your mouth to muffle your moans, one hand on your hip and the other squeezing your breast, while he pistoned his hips up.

You didn't even make a sound.

The sound of his balls slapping against your clit and the shameful, wet noise of your pussy being rammed were enough.

"See why I'm so obsessed with you? Why I can't stand you being lusted after? It's cause the thought of someone else having this pussy makes me wanna rip my fucking hair out, baby." Bucky murmured in your ear, his movements not easing down, not faltering for a second. "I know I have no leg to stand on, acting jealous and possessive of you, but fuck if I'm taking a single risk of losing you, of losing this."

Your eyes rolled back, your walls clamping down violently on your husband's cock, and you spasmed above him, reaching your apex.

With a groan that made you blush, Bucky came in hot spurts, filling you up with his load.

His chest was rising and falling as if he ran a marathon, and he gently patted your thigh. "C'mon baby, pull yourself together. We just got home. I'm not done with you yet."

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (4)

—  Pairing: Namjingi, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader,

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 5.7k

—  Warnings: Child abuse, flashbacks, murder, death, crime, drugs/drug use, angst, running away, violence, sibling murder, familial sanctioned violence

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(Previous Chapter)

(10 years ago, Yoongi, before Seokjin)

In many ways; Yoongi has been lucky.

He’d grown up outside of the normal hierarchy inflicted on the rest of his siblings and cousins. Immune from the constant warring between families and jostling for power. The back room deals and the expensive murders were something he was to observe, not partake in. orchestrate but never conduct. Left to his own devices through childhood and most of his adulthood. It didn’t matter which family was really his because Yoongi would serve the greater interests of the family.

He’d be the one to dole out punishment and reward, to judge if the scheming and murder and conflict between houses ever went too far. He’d be their legal body in a sense- the one to weigh their sins and judge.

The succession of the houses is left up to the elders, but the succession of Don is left only to Yoongi.

If he’d been born an alpha, things would have gone differently.

With 12 houses, and each with their own criminal enterprise that often overlaps- the yearly scheming and ploys for gaining placement in the hierarchy and secession lines leave many siblings bloody and crippled. Violence between houses is taboo if done indelicately, but violence within houses and between alpha siblings is all but encouraged.

The head of the Yun family had blinded their older brother to be head of house, a position that offered more than just esteem but money- on the scale of 50 million a year to the right head if they played their cards right. Another second son had killed their father to gain favor in the Lee house. And another younger sibling sent off when it became clear their lust for power would end only one way.

If he’d been born an alpha, Yoongi knows Geumjae would have done worse.

As a second son, Yoongi had escaped a fate of uncertain terms. As a Beta his role in the family is prescribed, not left up to him.

He doesn’t need to ask if his parents had been proud of his presentation. Apparently, the Don and Beta had sent an entire envoy and attended his naming ceremony personally. He’d been raised from that moment on to educate himself on the state of others. He’d learned to judge them from afar, to dissect micro expressions, to analyze people’s words before replying. How to manipulate the powers at play and guide the family to ever greatening heights.

That didn’t mean he hadn’t seen everything: on the contrary. Yoongi was offered an unobstructed view of the family’s operation- and the true extent of their cruelty.

He saw the peoples whose lives the family ruined with drugs on street corners. Rich socialites and college kids alike turned to wraiths in months by his family’s heroin. He saw the prostitutes that looked at Yoongi’s father like he was their next meal ticket, their wrists and throats ringed with bruises. The heaps and heaps of illegal drugs, million-dollar bricks of cocaine concentrate. The politicians at the country club often picked his face out of the crowd and went to greet him.

“What a fine young man you’re turning into Mr. Min, please let my office know if you require an internship for your first semester of college, we’d be happy to provide a glowing recommendation.”

But what education could college offer him? Yoongi was 13 when he first touched a dead body. After that, everything had seemed terribly insignificant.

He remembers the vile sliminess of it. The cold clammy skin and the ironclad grip of rigor mortis. He’d thrown up afterward repulsed by the realization that one day- he’d be still and rotting like that.  

Yoongi remembers. He remembers the laughs of the other mobsters. The blood on their lapels dripping. Like he’d made some sort of childish joke. He remembers his father petting down his hair like he was just some little kid who had the flu. Wiping the sick from his mouth and then his fingers on his silk pocket square. He remembers his father saying- “It’s okay, he’ll get used to it in time.”

After that, Yoongi realized that he wasn’t like them. That he’d never be like them.  He’d never get used to this and never find the death and destruction something to revel in. He’d leave as soon as he was able and if he was foolish and good enough, he might be able to tear them down from the inside out.

He’d expressed this on only one occasion, in vague words, indelicate enough that they hadn’t escaped notice. Thankfully he’d been at the dinner table and not in public.

Yoongi’s father had taken him by the scruff of his neck and guided him to the parlor, had sat him down and pulled out his favorite guns, a matching pair of gold-plated desert eagle .45’s, and polished them Infront of him without a word. But the message was clear.  

Yoongi had never said anything outload again, but he’s thought about leaving and destroying the family plenty of times since.

Foolish dreams, you can’t wish the bad blood out of your veins and off of your hands no matter how hard you try. Blood is blood, no matter who it’s in or what it’s on. 

The older people in the family always treated his squeamishness like it was something that might go away too- their hungry looks that would be greeted only by boisterous laughter on his father’s part. Assurances that “You know how you were at that age.”

 "And besides, he has a while before he ascends his throne. Until he’s in his forties god willing. ”

A throne because that’s what the Don and Beta are- a ruling pair. One elected, the other chosen by birthright alone. The eldest beta in the family rules with the Don side by side.

Yoongi is not the eldest beta, at least not yet.

The current ruling beta is not someone that Yoongi has to fear the same way they do. To him she’s just someone who remains attached at the Don’s hip at every available family dinner and function. Who offers him sweets from his deep pockets in exchange for a bit of gossip.

“Go on, anything you might hear, bring me back a secret little bird and the sweetness is yours.”

To Yoongi she’s just an old woman with silver hair who watches him like a hawk when he interacts with the other children. The other unpresented pups give him a wide berth during family functions but are shewed to his side during quieter softer moments in hopes of befriending him. Christmas cocktail hour and easter egg hunts and lawn games at the country club. Barely hidden whispers behind cupped hands.

“He may decide if you get to rule one day, if you present as an alpha, you’ll need him.”

To him, the Beta is no god, she’s just the woman who invites him in once monthly to a dusty little yellow cottage hidden on the fringe of the city between the edges of big buildings, who asks for his help to sweep the stones and fix the broken window. While she picks his brain and asks him questions that he’s never been asked before.

“You saw the murder of the young song boy last week, what did you think? Did it happen in the way you expected?”

“ Your father told me he took you with him to the docks, what did you think of the men? Are they getting paid enough? Did they look satisfied? ”  

“ The families brought by a selection of omegas for your older brother- did it look like any of them would be fit as a partner? Did you see any you liked? Would it be better if we brought by a few alphas for you? Some of them are pretty.

“Grandma, I’m only 14, it’s too early for me to be thinking about marriage yet.”

“It’s never too early to start. How is school going? Have you passed all your classes ? I’ll take you to town and buy you treats if you are.”

It’s secluded and impersonal, to talk about these things. The people in their family like they’re nothing more than gossip. For them- exempt from the bloodshed- it almost is just gossip.

To Yoongi she’s just that, someone who asks him “what do you think?” after long rants and judge his tentatively chosen words like they were nuggets of gold placed on the end of a scale, with Yoongi on the other side. How much is he worth?

To everyone else in the family- the beta’s words weigh much much more heavily.

Yoongi’s proximity to the royal pair was a lucky thing. They’d mentored him for years to prepare him for his eventual job. All of this, the murder and the secrets and the questions- was all an education essentially. He needed to understand how every faction of the family worked in order to make sure it ran smoothly in the future. Connections he built now would serve him years down the line. A reward now or a leniency in certain circumstances, would make his order ring out further.

Mercy is a tool in righteous hands, it is rarely ever kindness.

Yoongi is the family’s beta only in training, but as he gets older- his training becomes more than just sweeping stones. In the beta’s old age, Yoongi is her hands, eyes, and her ears. Having him on a job was considered both an honor and a threat. Because if the baby beta was checking that your operation was up to board, then there was only one person who put him up to the task.  

Even though Yoongi’s position has been decided for him- that doesn’t mean he’s exactly immune from the more political aspects of his birthright. 

Favors and kind words are a currency he traffics in, more than drugs or money or ghost guns. “I’m sorry I don’t have time to drop the shipment off, I’m sure you’re sympathetic, our baby beta- you’re growing up so well your mother must be so proud. She knows how stressful it is- having so many pups at once. Make sure you take a gram for yourself.”

Yoongi’s sub-gender was a tremendous advantage on the more difficult jobs. How many times had he been the getaway driver during a murder? Death sitting in the backseat of his car and Yoongi in the driver’s seat, a body in the trunk, stopped by the police. The officers always straighten up when they see Yoongi, his scent hitting them and making them flinch. “I’m sorry officers, but I’m really in a hurry, you don’t really need my license and registration, do you?”

And of course, they’d always replied with “We’re sorry to bother you, have a nice night sir.” He’d been sir since the second he’d started to lose his baby face. For a beta, respect is given, not necessarily earned.

You just didn’t interfere with the business of a beta, even if that business was murder, racketeering, prostitution, drugs, and illegal firearms among a dozen other institutions that the family was involved in. Each house tends to choose a lane, but there’s enough overlap, enough orchestrating that needs to be done- the conductor is the Don- and the beta is his hands, carving the music and money out of thin air.  

What had once been more than a dozen different organized crime families with decades of war between them had joined nearly three generations ago as one united front. Bonded through marriage and other thin agreements that kept them from war. Narrowly avoiding it at times. After a handful of generations, they’ve become unstoppable and more organized than the local governments in some pockets of the country.

There is no larger crime family in the continental united states, no others that mark or carve out better margins. Only Yoongi’s family. All others that dare to sprout like weeds get firmly squashed under their heal once they reach a certain size.

Or on rare occasions, acquired. Offered a seat at the table.  

Simultaneously he has all of the power and none of it. No responsibility to actually carry out any of the bloodshed- but every major decision of succession goes through him.

The only reason why the organization can survive is because of Yoongi. Without him, they’d tear themselves apart through their stupidity alone.

Should we eliminate our rivals Yoongi? Should we clear that little apartment block just to pad our pockets with a high-rise? How about this pack that saw too much? Do you think the pack alpha deserves to live? Live or die Yoongi, what’s your choice?

Now that he lives away, Yoongi’s only job is to settle internal disputes. Like which out of two twins would inherit a father’s title, spats between the families, and slights dealt that required mending for the good of the organization. He’s far enough away that he rarely has to actually commit a crime. He’s gotten used to the calls at all hours of the day, encrypted conversations that he can’t avoid.

Leaving has been a source of contention ever since he went, after his parent’s death when he just couldn’t handle being surrounded by so much death anymore.

Yoongi doesn’t even really remember the last time he saw them. His parents.

It had been a regular Monday that had passed as thousands of others had before it. Unremarkable except for the fact that it was last time he would see them alive. The house full of the cleaning ladies and their faint humming. Yoongi’s mother in her dressing room doing her makeup, rouge and lipstick out in little red containers.

The sound of his father’s voice talking on the phone in the other room- heavy feet cushioned on the carpet floors of their house as he selected his tie, pacing back and forth. Agitated, anxious.

“You’ll be late for school,” his mother had said, as she sighed and looked in the mirror, pulling up the edge of her cheek to make the lines under her eyes disappear.

“What does it matter? We’ve got like- ten days left.” Yoongi had paused, in the doorway, slacks on, the top button on his uniform undone because its hot out today and summer is almost here. The words of “I’m graduating in a few weeks; will you have time to attend the ceremony?” Stuck in his throat, lodged there where they won’t do any damage. Too shy to ask, to worried about being turned down.

“Appearances always matter Yoongi.”

Things have been busy recently- the Don and the Beta may step in during certain squabbles, but there are other things that they don’t bother touching. One of his father’s nephews and Geumjae have been clashing recently- something about an omega that both of them want but Geumjae can’t have. Geumjae wants a lot of things that he can’t have. He’s a good representative of the typical alpha; possessive and dominant to the last inch.

Typical.

If Yoongi had been raised to be impartial; Geumjae had been raised to rule. 

Whereas Yoongi had learned from a young age to be cunning and sly, Geumjae learned the language of violence and murder. Most of the min family’s business is in weaponry. Counterfeit and illegal. New technologies bought off the black market. That sort of thing. Yoongi has learned to give him a wide berth. His older brother hardly does anything worse than snap his teeth in his direction when they pass in the narrow hallways of the min family brownstone and their bedrooms are on separate floors. Geumjae knows better than to do worse.

His father’s loud voice booms from the other room- a reminder of the current infighting.

“Don’t ride my ass about this Chevron, I only just got Jun to get off my behind yesterday.”

“I know,” he’d said instead. Just I know. No, I love you. No nothing, as his father’s big laugh had sounded, and he’d gone down the stairs. Yoongi had let the driver take him to his private school and filed into the small classroom, had taken his seat like it was any other day.

His parents had been found later that afternoon, in a car burning on the side of the road, taken out by Jun, Yoongi’s distant uncle.

Geumjae ascended his throne with Jun’s severed head in hand, had plopped it the Don’s plate and taken his father’s seat at the table without contest. It was quite the declaration of violence, and quite the message. This is what we do to our own when they behave badly, don’t make the mistake of thinking you can treat us this way and get away with your head.

Yoongi hadn’t been there to see it- he’d already been running.

The last few weeks of high school where hardly a consequence. He’d been 10 days shy of graduating anyway, it hardly mattered.

Geumjae hadn’t tried to stop him when Yoongi had put what little money they had in the house in a bag and run, hopped on a train and just let his life dissipate behind him. He’d gone south and then north when he realized that the summers where too hot. Traipsed around sleeping in safe houses and then an apartment when he’d lied about his age and been able to sign a lease. Only to abandon it later and hop from city to city.

He’d made it 4 months with no contact; foolishly, he’d assumed that they just didn’t know where he was until one of his cousins had turned up at his shitty apartment. A cell phone held out to him and the Don on the other end of the line. He’d finally lost his patience with the youth at last. 

Yoongi’s proximity to what was dubbed as the royal pair was a lucky thing. They’d both been soft on him and with no children on their own, Yoongi bore the brunt of what parental urges they had. If he’d been anyone else, they would have sent an assassin to drag him back in a body bag.

But they hadn’t.

“As long as you come back Yoongi- none of us care, I know you’re a good kid. You know what’s expected of you.”

He’d been allowed to keep his distance. Yoongi’s always had a sensitive heart. The family just thought he was dealing with his grief by running away from it. They thought it was just that- not a rejection of what they wanted to make of him.

There are maybe 4 dozen full blooded Min’s left. And as the holder of the successive beta, they’re awarded more power than the other families, that and the fact that the beta was also the child of a Min, put their house very near if not at the very top of the family’s hierarchy.

It was one of the many reasons why the Don and Beta had allowed Geumjae to take their fathers throne without any contest.

While Yoongi had grown up with the safety of his sub-gender to shield him from the worst parts of mafia life, Geumjae had not had the same luxury. Pulled into backroom deals and showed the finer points of torture at a young age. Conditioned against his squeamishness young enough to be proper and polite about it (And to not alert the federal government or the police.)

One of Yoongi’s cousins had tried to go to the FBI after being grounded before- a foolish reaction to not being allowed to go out with his friends. A stupid child- but the family hadn’t seen that- no.

The family had left barely a thimbleful of him left for his parents who had barely even cried for their son. There is no room for moles or dissent in their family. You’re either with them and alive or against them and dead. 

Geumjae had found the bloodshed something to revel in.

It feels weird to think it, but Yoongi doesn’t know his own brother. Not well enough to anticipate his actions or manipulate him with any true control. In the ten years since their parents died and Geumjae took his father’s spot as the head of household they haven’t contacted each other. There have been no Christmas cards, and no checkups or check ins. Yoongi’s twenties had gone much as his adolescence had; with his brother as a distant figure to be feared and not under any circumstances relied upon. His family in name only.

There was only one thing- a formality. A pretty wedding invitation with gilded gold edges, announcing the betrothal of his brother to some nameless woman- that had ended up in the garbage of the pack’s apartment a little over two years ago. Shoved to the bottom of a trashcan where no one could see and ask.

If the pack had seen maybe they would have convinced him. Yoongi would rather just avoid their questions- he’s avoided most of them over the years. They don’t need to know where Yoongi comes from. If he has his way, they’ll never ever know.

“Don’t you want to go?” Seokjin might have asked, “Wouldn’t it be the right thing to do? Do you really want to miss your siblings wedding?”  

If Yoongi had gone- things might have turned out differently for you.

The pack can never know where Yoongi comes from- for their safety and the perpetuity of their pack Yoongi must keep this secret and leave as much to the imagination as possible.

No one can know where most of Yoongi’s money comes from. He was fine living just paycheck-to-paycheck before Seokjin. But once the pack started growing, Yoongi took on more and more responsibilities just to provide for them.

The world runs on money, Yoongi is compensated fairly for his role as secondary beta, he knows station of eldest beta has a much prettier price tag attached to it.

His goals have changed over the years; tearing down the gang was a stupid childish dream, as impossible as it was suicidal. He knows they’d kill him in a second if he so much as walked into a police station- no matter his birthright. It’s better to operate from within and try to lessen their damage. If Yoongi can save a few lives, that’s better than losing his own life and letting the system continue unchecked over his dead body.

It makes him feel better about taking money from his family even though it comes with expectations. He gets a monthly stipend that fluctuates, his cut of their profits. Sometimes it’s a little more than a few hundred and other times its thousands more than they could use. The blood money gets hidden away in a bank account that only he can access, that he uses whenever they really needed it. 

Like when Seokjin’s car broke down and they needed to buy a new one or else quit both of their jobs and ask Namjoon for money. Or when Namjoon dropped his phone down a storm drain after tripping off the edge of the sidewalk. Or when Namjoon gets the flu again (endlessly exposed after a particular outbreak) and can’t work for a whole three weeks and they need to make rent and Seokjin’s student loan payment.

It's even more important when the pups come along. It’s a good cushion- the only safety net that they have beyond each other.

He’d never use enough to make the others suspicious, and the pack know better than to ask after the first few years. And as much as he trusts them, years of witnessing life in a gang have taught him one thing; Ignorance is bliss, and plausible deniability can save your life.

Yoongi only hopes that it’s enough after he’s gone.

~-~

(19 years prior, Namjoon)

The hills of Sonoma County are rolling sheets of yellow gold. Neither hay, nor straw, nor wheat.

The crackly dried earth is pot marked in places from the trudging feet of the cattle and constantly threatens a twisted ankle. Yet the hills and divots and creeks ring with the sound of children’s laughter. It’s a sunny day, the sky uninterrupted by clouds. The air smells strongly of eucalyptus, and a breeze from the sea brings with it tidings of an endless summer.

10-year-old Kim Namjoon has only just started to learn what death is. But don’t worry, he’s going to learn.

While having overly large packs are not the norm; there are some people that take it to a ridiculous extent (quite frankly, I hope you don’t mind it if I’m rude).

There are many reasons why packs might form that go beyond love and tread into the realm of business, religion, and ideology. The more packmates you have the easier it is to gain cheap and quality childcare. Weather it’s the pooling of resources or the pooling of omegas- all are fair game.

The more money you have the more freedom you get, that is a simple truth that everyone in the world agrees too- barons and bums and hippies alike.

Namjoon’s familial pack are hippies. They smoke weed at the dinner table and hardly ever think twice about it. Namjoon’s familial pack has 7 omegas and 6 alphas, not including his parents. Between the 15 of them exist a gaggle of pups separated by no more than 6 months each as well as an extended compound and stretch of acreage that sprawls through cypress tree groves and a winery that makes them enough money that they can live a life of domestic hippy leisure. Growing pot in the steep fertile divots between springs and poppy fields on the down low.

Not that any of them particularly like nature, no- they’re far too selfish for that. They only like the appearance of being hippies instead of actually putting in the effort to practice what they preach. They like the aesthetic of fresh cooked bread. The tie-dyed shirts and crystals on the front drive only stop Namjoon’s uncle-alphas from dinging their BMW’s on the custom carved barn doors. The carefully curated aesthetic of mandalas and prayer flags are as frayed as their ideology.

Even so young- Namjoon has learned that there are people who live and people who pretend.

He’s a soft pup, it’s a shame that he’ll stay that way- otherwise he could have had potential.

He watches his aunt-mothers and uncle-fathers go about their hallow lives every night, preaching care of nature yet they cut down trees to plant a garden. Shriveling their nose at the people who come to buy the packs wine. The same people who keep them fat and rich and healthy. Their fancy cars and fancy clothes cost just as much but differ only in aesthetic. Lace or louis Vuitton, organic leather or sheered fur. Both cost the same. Nothing is a choice.

The lines between family and sire and mother and pack blur here. There are 21 other pups that live on the compound and Namjoon is right in the middle of them. Neither the oldest nor the strongest. He knows which ones he’s not related too. He can see it in their faces when they lack his delicate skin or the pout of his lips. The ruddy in their cheeks and pale eyes that matches the red sun that he does not have.

When Namjoon sinks into the tall golden grass, most of him blends in.

Everything from his sandy hair to his honey skin. His mother dyed it to make him look like the others, but Namjoon’s dark eyes always stand out.

That’s the thing about rich hippies, they don’t like to do the dirty work, they have pups for that. There is plenty of dirty work to do on the farm, plenty of watering and picking and washing to do. Brushing out the foal’s fur before they’re sold at auction and keeping the calf’s contained in their tiny paddocks. Smushing the grapes before they’re sent off to the distillery, until Namjoon’s hands are slippery and purple with it. Feeding the chickens and the lambs and the pigs.

And the Dogs.

Namjoon’s favorite is the dogs.

They’re so big. Hounds with teeth that watch the livestock and live outside without dog houses. Namjoon always makes sure their water and food bowls are filled up. That’s the only chore he likes, coaxing the beasts into letting him pet through their dirty white fur, cleaning their muzzles of blood on the hard nights.

“Do you ever wonder what it was like when we were like them?” He asks some of his half-siblings and might-as-well-be siblings as they peel potatoes for family dinner on the back porch. Crowded with big boots because their parents are smoking something sweet upstairs. Something they said pups couldn’t be near.

“No, why would you wonder? People Don’t shift anymore, that’s just a fairy tale.” They scoff back. Pouting child lips looking down at the ground, unsure. “Appa says the only way to get closer to nature is to peel off the shackles of society.”

“Do you even know what a shackle is?”

The pup’s chin tucks down, Namjoon feels a pang, he should be gentler. “No, but I still don’t like wearing pants, if I’m an omega then I’ll only have to wear dresses.”

Namjoon cringes. But this is a nudist commune Afterall. Namjoon’s mother always makes sure he at least wears shorts. Even if they’re just his swim trunks. Even if it’s been several days since they’re washed, and they look more grey than blue from the dust.

Namjoon does not say that wearing dresses has nothing to do with being an omega. Namjoon doesn’t say that they should be allowed to wear whatever they want, dresses or pants or long billowing shirts. They should be allowed, that’s freedom, isn’t it? Choosing what you want?

But the world hardly ever lets you choose, sometimes, the world makes choices for you.

With most pups, it’s hard to tell if they’re going to present as an alpha or an omega, but anyone could tell just by looking at Kim Namjoon that he was going to be an alpha. A steady slant to his dark colored eyes, the one thing that set him apart from the relatively monotonous group of pups. They all look vaguely alike, with one feature that separates them a piece.

Namjoon has his eyes, dark and round like the small stones that tumble out of the creek, black like the sand at Goat rock Beach.

Today is the day that Namjoon learns what death is, it will not be an easy day for him.

Namjoon scrabbles over the dark earth, rushing over the hills that he knows well because he has a habit of dodging chores to walk out and look after the livestock. Following them just like the dogs do.

The same livestock that turned up this morning, with a nipped heal. And another they’d found at mid-day, a little lab all but torn apart. Nothing more than bloody rags of flesh, gathering flies like stars.  

He knows these hills better than most of the pups. Better, but not well enough. Not better than the pack alpha. Not better than Namjoon’s father.

He lets out a broken sob when he finds the animal curled up at the bottom of the ravine. Sliding over dry earth and falling a few feet onto the riverbed where the dog rests, shaded in the midday heat.

The livestock dogs don’t have names, but still Namjoon pushes at the dog’s side. The beast is a loyal thing. Whines, wags its tail at the sight of him. Namjoon is the one that feeds them. This one is ferocious looking, as long as Namjoon is tall and nearly three times as heavy, powerful jaws matted with lamb’s blood. Namjoon pushes at its muzzle, fingers going ruddy and rusty.

“Go- you have to run; you have to go before they find you.” The thing wines, high pitched and echoic in the small valley. Overhead, the eucalyptus trees sway in the breeze, thwacking together. Barely concealing the sound of footsteps.

His sire is there, just behind him, wearing pants because he rarely ever wears pants. (Funny isn’t it, how people aim to cover up when showing their true nature.) The shotgun is metallic and dark underneath the red burning sun. Namjoon blocks the dog with his own body, crying. His sire won’t shoot with him in the way.

“Step aside pup, a dog that bites must be put down.”

But Namjoon doesn’t move, doesn’t move until he feel the cold barrel of the gun pressed against his spine and his body moves for him, self-preservation blocking out everything, the shivering in his body, the mucus gathering at his nostrils, the tear tracks on his cheeks- all the more apparent because of the dust they wipe away. The babble of the brook is distant.

The sound of the shotgun going off and the smell of gunpowder is not distant. It reverberates through Namjoon’s body and soul.

The sun hovers overhead, red and impartial. The dog behind him sighs away as Namjoon looks up at the sky. The bite of his sires hand into the back of his neck as he picks him up off of the riverbank is cold.

Later Namjoon will scream and cry. Some of his siblings will watch him be punished from the steps in the big house. Small sandy faces pressed between dark stained rungs of the stairs. while Namjoon kneels on sharp grains of rice until his skin is bloody and mottled purple.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

But Namjoon doesn’t understand, he’ll scream until his lungs ache, until the omega’s are muttering upstairs about Namjoon keeping up the other pups. About it setting their teeth on edge. He’ll scream and cry until his lungs go raw and the pack alpha, his father, grows tired of his whining.

“I am your alpha and you will stop this at once.”

“I’m never going to be an alpha like you- I’ll never be like you, I’ll never kill another living thing, I hate you.”

But Kim Namjoon is wrong; He will kill. That is a fact you can bet on.

(Next Chapter)

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- Reading this back I don’t like how quite…sterilized the don and beta are? Like there is actually very little to them beyond the dialogue that Yoongi hears. Maybe it’s better that way because they’re more characterized later with the m/c and her sections.

- The moment where Seokjin asks Yoongi if he really wants to miss his siblings wedding is a reference to my personal life at the moment. I’m going to miss my sister’s wedding in June because she’s inviting the man who abused me for 10 years. My Geumjae, the person who the forward of the story is addressed to. As you can assume I’m having a whole bunch of feelings about it. But I’m not going to beg for her to love me or care about me, and thats growth baybeee

- Once again, I know we’re learning little tidbits about Jungkook and Taehyung and the others but it feels almost right to reference it? i swear the movie momento permanently fucked up my brain- actually you know I edited it out so that it made more sense.

- (Tw) Both of my parents where hippies and to say that I am critical of the lifestyle is an understatement. Once again, I’m writing my trauma out into this story. i think personally if you plan on doing drugs around your children (even weed and alchohol) you should maybe think twice about having them. My mom was so high all the time growing up that she didn't notice i was being sexually abused so maybe i'm a bit biased. it's fine to do what you want with your life if you don't have children.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Tell Me No

Marc Spector x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Marc prefers when you take what you want.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Okay, this is really not going to be for everyone. Please look at the warnings.

Warnings: hand jobs, sub!Marc, Marc having a rape fantasy/ravishment kink, rapeplay, safe words, forced orgasm (but not really forced *dennis reynolds voice* it's the implication), this isn't noncon because both parties have agreed on this - which is also mentioned in fic but I till feel like it could cause distress in anyone that has a trigger, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 1592

“Tell me no?” Marc asked softly as he gently touched your arm. 

You turned from where you were putting plates away to face him fully. 

He swallowed, his fingers still brushing against you, looking down at your feet. His head was tilted slightly, making it even more obvious that he was shying away from your gaze. 

Slowly you hooked your forefinger under his chin and lifted his head upwards ever so slightly. Your touch delicate, but firm.

He sucked in a breath, his muscles tensing but kept looking at the floor, his eyelashes practically kissing his cheeks. 

“You want that?” You asked firmly, your voice steady but gentle. 

He nodded once, a small micro movement. 

“You gonna ask for it properly?” 

He swallowed again, the action making a gulping sound that clicked around the room. But he took a little too long to answer,

“Or do I have to make you?” You said, your voice still that same constant sturdiness. 

He nodded again and you smiled. 

It had started as an accident really, a bit of a silly joke when you were still early into your relationship. Sitting on the grass in Greenwich Park, Marc pouting and saying ‘no’ when you tried to kiss his cheeks. You had laughed and backed off every time, not touching him, when he’d bitten his lip and asked sweetly. “Do it anyway when I say no?” 

“You want me to kiss you anyway?” 

“If you can.” He’d wiggled his eyebrows at you, purposefully making you giggle. But even then you had recognised that he was trying to cover something, some nervousness with bravado. Even if you couldn’t quite put your finger on what. 

“Alright,” you smiled. “But what if you really want me to stop? How will I know?” 

He had looked to the side, in thought for a moment. “I’ll say dandelion.” 

“Dandelion?” 

“Hmm.” He nodded.

“You just chose the first thing you saw!” You laughed. 

“So what if I did?” He said cheekily. 

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have you kisses as punishment.” 

“No.” 

You couldn’t remember when the name of the game had stuck, ‘tell me no’, but Marc always said it that way, despite him being the one that would being saying the negative. It seemed easier for him to ask you that way. 

He had been awkward about it the first time he brought it up in conection to sex. More than awkward. Fumbling over his words and not looking at you, until he had given up in frustration and huffed as he walked off. But he didn’t go off to sulk, instead he wrote down what he was having such trouble saying and handed you the paper. 

‘I know it’s weird.’ The word was underlined twice. ‘And you can say no. But what if we play tell me no during sex?’ 

You had looked up at him. “That’s not weird.” 

He paused, his face completely blank for a moment. Error screen. Loading. Clearly he hadn’t expected that response. 

“Lots of people have that fantasy.” 

He paused, raising his chin ever so slightly in question. A microexpression you were used to. 

“Really,” you smiled and touched his arm, reassuring him. “I’m happy to. But we need to talk about it a little before hand, I need to know what you want, okay?” 

He nodded. “Okay.” 

Marc wanted to act like he didn’t want you to touch him, please him. He wanted you to do it anyway, to force him to come.

You kissed him deeply, pushing your tongue into his mouth and growling when he pulled away. 

“Please, don’t.” He said softly, looking down like he was ashamed. 

“But I want to.” You pinched his chin lightly between your thumb and forfinger and turned his face back towards you. This time you kissed him harsher, biting at his plump bottom lip. 

Marc groaned, allowing himself to sink into your embrace for a moment before he moved his hand away again. “Stop, please, I shouldn’t.” 

You kissed him again, grabbing hold of his biceps and walking him backwards towards the bed. 

He muffled a moan against your lips, pretending to squirm to try to get out of your grip. He raised his hands, pressing them to your chest as if he was trying to get you off him. But he used no where near half of his strength, his touch practically begging you to manhandle him. 

You push him back against the bed, pining him down under your body and straddling his hips. He whines under you, bucking upwards as if he was trying to push you off, but really he was rubbing his already half hard cock against your core. 

You bite his lip again, hard and he lets out a sweet moan. The sound turning into a stiffled breath as you nip down his jaw and suck on the sweet spot on his neck. 

“Stop, please, stop, no, I don’t want this, I shouldn’t-”

“You’ll take what I give you,” you hiss in his ear and Marc shivers, his eyes rolling back as he groans. “Gonna make you come and make a mess everywhere.” 

“No,” he shakes his head rapidly. “Please.” The stress on the word is delicious, the way he looks up at you, begging silently for you to continue. 

“Shut up you stupid whore.” You grab hold of his wrists and pin them up above his head with one hand, Marc groans, wiggling his hips a little. It would be so easy for him to move, to get away from your touch. Your fingers are just resting on his skin, not even squeezing. That’s how he likes it. The illusion of being pinned. But knowing he can move at any moment if he really wanted to. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to give up control, he does, he craves it, it’s just that past experiences have made the reality of having his hands tied a little impractical. Even if he knows he’s safe, even if his mind is begging for it, his body still reacts with adrenaline and fear. Panic attacks and gasping for breath. Neither of you want that. 

“Stop.” He mutters, shaking his head from side to side, looking at you with wide, fearful eyes that you know are dark with lust and desperation. 

“I told you to shut the fuck up.” You hiss, reaching down and pushing your free hand under his jogging bottoms and grabbing his warm, velvety length. 

He whimpers, biting his lip. “Stop! I don’t want this!” 

“You’re so dumb, you know that?” You run your fingers up and down him a few times, revelling in how he twitches and hardens under your touch. “Saying you don’t want it. Look how hard you are.” 

He lets out a sob, arching his spine in a pretend attempt to throw you off. 

“Flower Marc?” You ask softly. 

“Rose.” He says quickly, his version of green.

You start jerking him off quickly, watching his face as he whines. “Look how much your body wants it.”

“No!” He shakes his head rapidly, even as his words turn into needy moans. 

“Fucking look.” You hiss.

He keeps his eyes closed.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” 

He groans loudly, having to tense his muscles and fight against his body with an iron will to stop himself from coming at your words. He knows you’d never actually hurt him, never lay a finger on him that wasn’t wanted, that wasn’t there to cause pleasure. But the threat of it, your tone. It feels too good. 

He looks down to where you’re touching him, how your sliding your fingers over his cock and teasing his slit. He moans loudly, trying to choke back the sound. 

You pull his t-shirt up higher until the material is grumbled up at his chest, and then go back to squeezing his cock, pumping your hand up and down the burning length of him. As you get to the tip on every stroke you twist your wrist just a little, tighten your grip ever so slightly. 

Marc’s hips jerk up, his thighs tense under you as he wiggles, trying and failing not to give in and chase the sensation. 

“Please don’t,” he moans, “don’t want to come, please.” 

“You’ve got no choice in this.” 

His sounds increase, sweat beading on his forehead as he relentlessly bucks upwards into you grip. Every nerve is on fire, every thought bleeding out of his mind onto the matress, only the pleasure of your touch remaining. 

“Please don’t make me,” he whines, so close that he can almost taste it, almost touch it. 

“You’re gonna come Marc, you’re going to give it to me. Understand?” 

He groans loudly, the sternness of your voice tipping him over the edge. The command making his body obey without his say in the matter. 

He comes loudly, spurting all over his stomach in hot, thick squirts that splash all over his skin, staining it white. 

You slow your hand, but don’t stop. Still stroking him evenly. 

Marc gasps, shivering with aftershocks. His breathing is heavy, his eyes a little unfocused as he opens them to look back up at you. 

You smile, leaning down quickly to kiss his temple. 

When you move back he has his lip between his teeth, his thighs twitch under you. You recognise that look. 

“You’re gonna come again Marc.”

He shakes his head. But there’s a glint in his eyes, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “No.” He pouts. 

“It wasn’t a question.” 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings 

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[spiciestmango]

Even More Obscure Kinks Ask Game :3 🔎

Feel free to add on to this- pls do actually im having a hard time finding more and more kinks and my pupbrain doesnt hold onto info very well!! (also please be mindful of people's limits!)

Everything assumes adults having either fantasy, roleplay or full consent of all parties even when stated otherwise yadda yadda yadda yall know how to be safe in kink im not your sex ed teacher

Milder Section (For stuff that is still fun to ask abt but isnt that obscure in the grand scheme of things!)

Facefucking or Facesitting

Breathplay or Sensory depravation

Biting or Scratching

Somnophillia or Intox sex

Kigurumi/Onesie or Job Uniform (Nurse, Mailperson, etc)

Latex or Leather

Intercrural sex or Dry humping

Felching or Snowballing

Authority Figure or Monster/Alien

Robots or Undead

Age play or Pet play

Fauxest or Fauxbeast

Dacryphillia or Sexual obsession

Crotch Spanking or Crotch Worship

Pool/Hot tub sex or Sex in the wilderness

Edging or Overstim

Stuckage or Leash pulling

Sex While Pregnant or Guaranteed Impregnation

On display for an audience or All hands on you

Omorashi or Piss Drinking

Cum Marking or Piss marking

Pissing inside orifice or Public Pissing

Knotted or Equine cocks

Barbed or Tapered cocks

Tentacles or Alien genitals

Queefing or Farting

Hands or Feet

Squirting or Lactation

Thighs or Tummy

Underwear gag or O-Ring gag

Pain/Blood/Fear section (Some gore-y themes warning)

31. Period Sex or Drawing Blood Elsewhere 32. Cupping or Waxplay 33. Electrostimulation or Temperature Play 34. Cattle Branding or Name Carving 35. Gunplay or Knifeplay 36. Figging or Flogging 37. Medplay or Kidnapping 38. Blackmail or CBT 39. Tummy punches or Nipple clamps 40. Spanked until bruised or Hickeys everywhere 41. Quadruped Suit or Gimp 42. Pinwheel or Ice 43. Spiked paddle or Caning 44. Anal punishment or Kicking 45. Ball squeezing or Cock Pulling 46. New Piercing or Wound Stinging (With lemon, alcohol, etc) 47. Orgasm from spanking or Orgasm from Biting 48. Vivisection or Woundfucking 49. Waterboarding or Chained torture 50. Cigarette/Blunt/Joint burning or Predicament Bondage

Wilder Section (Stuff you might not see often!)

51. Vacbed or Claustrophilia 52. Forced Exposure or Unknowing Participant 53. Crush Fetish or Spinning Fetish 54. Pullups or Puppypads 55. Sneeze induced orgasm or Hypno trigger induced orgasm 56. Foodplay or Mysophilia 57. Lithophilia or Pygmalionism 58. Oviposition or Improvised Sex toy 59. Plant sex or Primal play 59. Locked in clothing or Locked out of bathroom 60. Sex with Planes or Sex with Trains 61. Bound together or Suspension play 62. IRL Hypnosis tracks or Clicker Training 63. Rapebaiting or Public Stealth Toy 64. 24 hour insertion or 24/7 servitude 65. Ponyplay or Cattleplay 66. Sybian or Through wall 67. Boofing or Forcefeed 68. Stock/Pillory or Hogtied 69. Navel sex or Armpit sex 70. Emetophilia or Nasophilia

Fantasy Section (Stuff that you probably cant even come close to replicating or cosplaying IRL)

71. Macro or Micro 72. Pooltoy Transformation or Plushie Transformation 73. Mummification or Cobweb bondage 74. Parasitic Pregnancy or Alternate Pregnancy 75. Living Toy or Oral Vore (this is just regular vore) 76. Unbirth or Anal vore 77. Earfucking or all the way through (ass through mouth) 78. Portalpanties or Voodoo doll 79. TGTF (Not detrans) or Huge size difference (5 ft or more) 80. Knotted and hanging between or Instant egg laying 81. Nullification/Nullcrotch or Amputation Bondage 82. Petrification or Slime absorption 83. Clone gangbang or Selfcest 84. Magic during sex or Being put on the experiment table 85. Instant aphrodisiac or Body swap 86. Crowded public use (Train, Bus, etc) or Cursed Womb Tattoo 87. Feral x Feral or Monster x Monster 88. Cumflation or Other fluid inflation 89. Hypergenitals or Bodily fluid bath 90. Ghost hands or Magical/Alternate cum

Bad ends (Kind of an extension of the fantasy section)

91. Mind Break or Perma Vored (Digested) 92. Permanent Ownership or Perma TF 93. Loss of sentience or Loss of body control 94. Drowned or Bled out 95. No escape from corrupted reality or No escape from compromised mind 96. Torn apart by monster or Experimental mishap 97. Coerced and forced betrayal of a loved one (rape, harm, etc) or That betrayal being done to you without you ever finding out. 98. Slow painful mutation or merging with another being 99. Never finding a way home or Home never being the same 100. Blackmail released to the public or Falsely accused but never believed

BONUS: Pokemon themed section (Because its MY blog and I have the right to invoke the author's poorly disguised fetish in my fetish post 😡)

101. Trainer x Pokemon or Pokemon x Pokemon 102. Type advantage or Level drain 103. Stage 3 evo x Stage 1 evo or Evolution denial (Everstone) 104. Quadruped, Biped or Other 105. Breed till a shiny egg or Status effects during sex 106. Mid-sex evolution or Forced, unwanted evolution 107. Getting Mystery Dungeon'd or TF into pokemon but in the mainline world (You can no longer speak to humans) 108. Raped/passed around by your pokemon team or Team of pokemon specifically for sex 109. Bondage themed moves (Vine whip, Freeze shock, etc) or Coercion themed moves (Hypnosis, attract, etc) 110. Caught in a pokeball or Unremovable pokemon costume

[sadcambion]

Desk sex

Raphaël x f!Tav

R-18 Smut, cock warming, breeding kink, creampie, Raphael is more or less sweet.

She was sit on Raphaël's knees, naked, his cock buried in her tight, wet vagina. He was at his desk and Tav did his best not to squirm on him under penalty of punishment. He was buried to the hilt, his tip deliciously leaning against his cervix. She held back from moving , visibly excited.

Raphael did not seem to take into account the excitement of the young woman, he did not even look at her. No, he was just writing something in her notebook that she couldn’t see, and for good reason, she was too excited to pay attention. His head was huddled against the half-devil’s neck, his cherry and musk smell invading his nose. She felt every fiber of desire flowing through her veins. A micro movement shook her body and she felt her bare skin rubbing against the fabric of her clothes and rubbing his cock in her, Raphael raised her voice in a rather authoritarian way.

"You can’t, remember?"

"I... Raphael, cannot take it anymore..."

Her voice was pleading, it was obvious she was at the end and that she needed more than keeping her cock warm in her.

"Tsss… So you’ll never learn."

She stiffened, feeling the annoyance in the half-devil’s voice and tried not to move, even though Raphael seemed little determined to help her. While writing with one hand, with the other, he played lasciviously with one of his breasts, one of his fingers deliberately touching his sensitive nipple. He played with her, pushed it slowly into its entrenchments.

"Raphael, please."

Another plea. She begged for more and he knew it, he took pleasure in ignoring her demands. He liked to hear her beg and drive her mad with desire. He played the same way a cat played with its prey.

But the young woman also put her patience to the test. He wanted to finish at least this paragraph in his notebook, but the warm feeling of her walls and every micro movement made him want to ravage it on his desk. He lost his composure. He started pinching her nipple. She moaned and jumped slightly.

"You really are a slut, aren’t you?"

His tone was annoyed but there was something else, hunger, the most raw and primal desire. He feels her getting even more wet as he calls her a slut and he smiles mockingly. The breath of the young woman strikes her neck while she answers nothing, her body speaks for her. He closes his notebook before spilling Tav on the desk, still in her. She lets out a gasp, half surprised by her sudden movement.

“You demand so much, my dear, you will be served, but it will not go unpunished.”

She looks at him, her eyes falling into her beautiful brown eyes. She doesn’t care how hard he’s gonna be with her, she wants him, no matter how brutal he is. She knows that once this moment of pleasure is over, he will punish her.

"Fuck me, Raphael."

"Very good."

He growls softly, and she feels him thickening in her. Her horns appear, her wings extend and hide her field of vision, all she can see is Raphael, in all her splendor, staring at her with her golden eyes now. Her same beautiful eyes that made her fall in admiration before him the first time she saw them. It is much more imposing and thick in it when it is in its cambion shape and she moans heavily has the sensation. He laughs before leaning over her to kiss her. Raphael’s tail moves a little vividly behind him.

His lips bite his, slightly piercing the pink skin of his lips, a drop of blood comes out. She opens her mouth and without waiting the half-devil’s tongue takes possession of her mouth as he begins to move in her. Tav’s thighs wrap around her hips, her back against the hard wood of her desk. He kisses her in a hungry way, not even giving her time to breathe, their lips meet again and again in a brutal way while he pumps deep inside her, his cock tapping each time against her cervix, a reminder of his intentions about her.

As he dreams, of his little mouse, fertilized by his seed. A ceaseless reminder of his property upon her. She is his and for nothing in the world he would not let anyone approach her. As soon as she looked at him with such admiration, he knew she was made for him.

This thought only excites him even more. He hits her harder and her mouth descends into her neck, biting it with more force than he should. She moans with pleasure and pain as she feels the cambion theeth mark her flesh. She feels his clothes rubbing against her bare skin. She is sweating and the young woman begins to tremble under her powerful kidney strokes. He is merciless in his movements and he seems determined to make her cum with him.

She moans loudly, too loudly, so his hand clamps over her mouth as her wings wrap around her like a thick warm and strangely protective blanket. He’s obsessed with her, and he loves her, in his own way. She feels the blood running slowly marks on her neck and she shivers, her moans muffled by the large clawed hand of Raphaël.

She looks at him as he takes her. His eyes are filled with a certain adoration. He feels venerated in his presence as a god would be. He smiles softly and for a moment his smile is not mocking.

The warm and humid walls of Tav squeeze around his length and she is close, he feels that she will cum then he accelerates his movements and he feels the hands of the young woman clinging to his shirt. He fears for a moment that she will tear his expensive clothes before remembering that he will be able to get the same copy easily.

He withdraws his hand feeling that she wants to speak, at the same time, he palpitates dangerously in her, he is as close as she is.

"Raphael.. I love you…"

He smiled vividly, it was not uncommon for her to declare her love to him, lost in the limbo of fleshly pleasure. And he knew she was telling the truth.

In a last stroke of kidney, he floods its fertile womb and it feels her climax at the same time, its juice splashing while it remains in her.

"I love you too, little mouse."

He doesn’t know how wrong it sounds, but one thing is certain, he feels something, and it’s pretty close to what mortals would call love.

[dyns33]

Without warning part 3

Not done yet with Frank and his soulmate !

Contrary to what he had imagined, Ghost had not killed him.

She could have if she had wanted to, no one could stop her with her powers, but she had left Frank alone with his remorse.

In all the scenarios he had imagined, there was no good ending. But he did not expect this one.

Probably because he had planned everything against Ghost based on the few things he had heard, but not with Y/N.

His sweet Y/N.

Sitting in the middle of his safehouse, Frank remembered all the moments spent with her, trying to determine if he could have seen this twist coming. But there was nothing.

If she had premeditated their meetings, Y/N had played the comedy well, and she had to bet on luck, because he could have not even noticed her. Each time, it was him who had approached her. No strange questions, no requests, no violent gestures. In his mind, Y/N was not an enemy.

On the other hand, he was for her now, with what he had done to Deadpool.

That was what happened when you made decisions with your heart, and not with your brain. Afraid of losing someone dear to him like he had lost his family, the Punisher had screwed up, pushing Y/N away and having Wilson captured.

Maybe the talkative mercenary had a complicated past, with many murders under his belt. Frank could repeat that he had had good reasons to eliminate his targets, they were not so different.

If he had been more patient, if he had asked for Micro's help, he could have verified that half of the crimes attributed to Deadpool were simple hypotheses, rumors. He had changed recently, since he had been in his red team with Murdock and the kid.

And damn, if Y/N trusted him, then he couldn't be all bad.

"Where's my brother ?!" she had screamed, pinning him against the wall, her eyes full of tears. "What did you do to him ?!"

"What ? Your brother ?"

"Where is he ?!"

"I don't know ! The secret service took care of it."

"… No." Y/N said with a broken voice, which was enough to freeze him in place. "No, not again."

She had disappeared, not insisting, probably knowing that the Punisher was not a liar. He knew nothing, he had destroyed everything and he had washed his hands of it.

Now he could sit there, convincing himself that she had lied to him, that he had done nothing wrong, to resume the course of his life as if he had never met Y/N. His soulmate. He should have known, he had never been happier with someone since Maria died.

He called Madani. It would probably be useless, but he tried, to make amends without making another victim. But she was not in charge of the Deadpool's case anymore.

Then he went to see Micro.

"Oh, you're in deep shit, real deep shit."

"Thanks. Can you find him ?"

"I'll try, but it won't be easy. I did some research on your Wilson, you know ? I was curious. He didn't have an easy life, with his father, the army, his cancer, the experiments, the death of his soulmate…. You two should start a club."

"… And Ghost ? Y/N… Do you know how they met ?"

"Hmm. Promise me not to destroy my stuff ?"

Frank only punched the wall, making his hand bleed, after Micro was finished.

There had been whispers about Project X when he was in the marines. The generals were fascinated as they were afraid, because mutant soldiers could be useful, but if they were on the wrong side, it would be a disaster.

What was not said was that the test subjects were not volunteers. Desperate, sick, poor, lonely people, who had been duped, found themselves prisoners in cages, tortured, lobotomized, then sold. And sometimes, there were also children.

"Subject 16. Arrived when she was ten years old, impossible to trace before. Tests for three years before there was a result, abilities to become invisible, pass through matter, like a ghost. Disappeared during the explosion of the New York lab. But… The name Y/N appears shortly after, false name, created by a man named Jack Hammer. You probably know him better under the name of Weasel, friend of our infamous Deadpool."

There were pictures. From when the little girl was in her cell, a control collar around her neck to stop her from running away, scared, skinny, bald. And pictures from after. With Wade.

Big brother Wade, who had taken her with him after destroying the lab, giving her a real childhood, with beautiful clothes, stuffed animals, everything so that she would display a magnificent radiant smile, with a normal life.

But when she became an adult, Y/N had wanted to follow him. She had never killed anyone, Deadpool was against it, but she accompanied him for simple missions, thefts, tailing, threats. So she had become Ghost.

"Shit… Shit, shit, shit !" Frank yelled, smashing his other hand against the concrete.

He had hated Ghost. Because she was no good. Because to meet her, he had to live through hell. Because her acquaintances were questionable. He had shot her without hesitation.

Y/N had been through hell too. She had come back from it, she had accepted his bullet, to give him a chance despite everything. Of course, she had not told him who she was, clearly suspicious at first, but they had become friends. More than friends.

It was carnage when Frank found Wilson, in a bunker on the other side of the country. No pity, even less when he saw him, boiled in a small box, with only his head intact if we forgot the sewn mouth.

"Aaaw, Frankie, I knew you loved me deep down !"

"Don't make me regret coming."

"Our love is impossible, dear Castle. I am much too handsome, brilliant and cool for you, sulking emo with your big guns. Nice rifle, new model ? It goes well with your eyes."

"I'm going to leave you in a ditch."

"Nah, you're a nice guy, I think, and you'll miss me too much."

He threw Deadpool in front of the blind old woman's house where he was squatting, ignoring his heartbreaking goodbyes screamed into the night.

Not once had they talked about Y/N in the car. Frank hadn't dared, he didn't think he had the right to.

This was the second time he had hurt his soulmate. He always hurt everyone… Shit, he was starting to sound like that stupid Red. Anyway, there was no point in moping around. He had ruined everything, he would never see her again.

"You saved him."

Or not.

Max barked happily, wagging his tail, not at all afraid to see Y/N appear in front of him, immediately demanding her attention. Without taking her eyes off Frank, she patted him on the head.

On the couch, he was staring at her too, relaxed, waiting to see what was going to happen. Whatever she decided to do, he wouldn't stop her.

"Why did you save him ?" she asked shyly.

"He didn't deserve that. You didn't either… I'm sorry."

Maybe that was why they were soulmates. They could understand each other's pain, but most of all she taught him the need to give a chance.

If Murdock found out, he would show his annoying smile, but if Deadpool hadn't been immortal, if Ghost couldn't dodge bullets, then he would have regretted it for the rest of his life. That didn't mean Red was right. But maybe sometimes he should not shoot, not in the head at least.

As if he were a frightened animal, Y/N came to sit down gently next to him.

"Wade wrote you a thank you poem."

"Hmm."

"I didn't think you'd help us. I know you don't like us very much."

"That's not… I got bad information. He's annoying, a real pain, but I don't hate you."

"You shot me. We exchanged sentences and you shot me."

"… Yeah. I'm an asshole."

Y/N nodded, looking at the ground. It was the end, he had apologized, they could go on their way now, move on.

When she took him in her arms, he was surprised for a second, before immediately grabbing her, gripping it tightly and hoping never to let go again.

They stayed like that, her crying silently, and him doing everything he could to hold back his tears.

But it wasn't sad. It wasn't goodbye, on the contrary.

That was certain when she placed a kiss on his cheek before disappearing again.

And even more certain when Wilson put an arm around him when he joined Team Red for a mission.

"I give you my blessing as the most awesome big brother in the universe, welcome to the family Frankie love. If you make my Y/N cry again, I'll cut you up like sashimi."

"Oh, you and Mrs. Ghost are together ?! So cool ! I'm happy for you, Mr. Punisher !"

"How do you know he's talking about Ghost ?"

"She's super nice, Mr. Devil ! We talk often, she… She found out my identity, after helping me, and since I was panicking, she told me her name to reassure me while she was healing me."

"… You were hurt ?"

"You knew Y/N was Ghost ?"

"Aaaw, that's sweet, my little Spidey and my little Ghosty are friends ! I should be sad that she didn't tell me anything, but she knows that I would have been jealous, while respecting the code of honor of the secret identity. Bro code ! I'm proud of her !"

"Since when did you know, kid ?!"

"I asked him not to say anything, don't be mad at him."

Red growled, continuing to jump every time Ghost spoke near him, reminding him that he was unable to detect her if she decided to be completely invisible. He quickly changed the subject to talk about the mission, but everyone had noticed.

Once the plan was explained, they split into two groups, Y/N with the kid and Wade, Frank with Daredevil.

But before jumping from the roof, and on each of the missions that followed, he felt ghost lips against his.

[teine-mallaichte]

Instruction and Training for Handlers: Managing Assets with Implants

CW: dehumanisation, whump, living weapon, non-con drugging.

Dear Handler,

Congratulations. Your asset, [insert designation number], has been selected to be fitted with an implant. This is a significant milestone, indicating that the asset has reached a high enough rank and level of operational success to warrant the enhancement. Implants are cutting-edge devices embedded under the skin, typically near the shoulder blade, designed to monitor, control, and optimise the asset’s performance and compliance. These devices are integral to ensuring peak operational efficiency, extending mission endurance, and mitigating risks posed by physical or psychological limitations.

Understanding the Implant System

The implant uses real-time data to administer precise doses of performance-enhancing, pain-relieving, and compliance-inducing drugs. This system enables the asset to operate beyond normal human limits, ensuring mission success under the most demanding conditions. Additionally, the implant includes several failsafe measures to maintain control over the asset in high-stress or defection scenarios.

The implant is a cutting-edge biofeedback device designed for subdermal placement, typically near the shoulder blade. It represents the pinnacle of asset management technology, combining advanced monitoring, drug administration, and failsafe mechanisms in a compact, durable unit.

Design and Features

Sleek, Durable Structure The implant is encased in a lightweight, metallic alloy resistant to damage from environmental factors, including extreme temperatures, moisture, and impact. Its design ensures long-term reliability in harsh operational conditions.

Integrated Monitoring Systems The implant houses a network of sensors capable of real-time monitoring of vital signs, including heart rate, blood pressure, respiratory rate, brain activity, muscle tension, and more. Data is continuously transmitted to the facility’s control systems or the handler’s interface for remote observation.

Automated Drug Delivery Built-in reservoirs store a range of drugs, including stimulants, painkillers, regenerative treatments, and compliance agents—these reservoirs need regular monitoring and refilling. Micro-needles extend from the implant to administer precise doses directly into the bloodstream based on the asset’s physiological needs.

Visual Indicators The implant features subtle glowing elements (e.g., blue or green light) to indicate active monitoring or drug administration. These indicators can assist handlers in quickly assessing the implant's status during close interactions.

Failsafe Mechanisms The implant includes emergency protocols such as sedative bursts for asset incapacitation or a lethal dose for termination. These are accessible remotely by the handler or facility in critical situations.

Key Features

Vital Monitoring: Tracks critical metrics such as heart rate, respiratory rate, and brain activity.

Automated Drug Delivery: Administers stimulants, painkillers, and regenerative treatments based on the asset’s needs.

Emotional and Cognitive Regulation: Suppresses disobedience, reduces stress, or enhances focus.

Failsafes: Includes sedative bursts for asset incapacitation and lethal doses as a last resort.

Handler Responsibilities

As a handler, your primary responsibility is to utilize the implant's capabilities to maximize the asset’s performance while ensuring they remain compliant and functional. This involves:

1. Remote Monitoring and Control:

Although the implant is capable of functioning independently, administering doses based on biofeedback, you may also use the implant’s interface to monitor your asset’s condition and adjust their drug dosages as needed.

If your asset shows signs of fatigue, disobedience, or emotional instability, you are authorized to activate specific drug protocols.

2. Reward and Punishment Mechanisms:

The implant includes a reservoir of Euphoria-X, which can be used to reward compliance and exceptional performance.

Conversely, if the asset demonstrates disobedience or failure, sedative bursts or withdrawal-inducing drugs may be administered as corrective measures.

3. Communication and Conditioning:

Regularly reinforce the asset’s conditioning by pairing implant activations (e.g., reward or punishment) with verbal commands.

This strengthens their association between behavior and consequences, ensuring long-term compliance.

4. Failsafe Activation:

In extreme situations where the asset becomes a threat to themselves, their team, or the mission, you are authorized to initiate failsafe protocols. This includes sedative bursts to incapacitate or a lethal dose to terminate.

Key Reminders

Maintain the Illusion of Trust: Most assets believe the implant is a “reward” for their success. Reinforce this perception to reduce resentment and ensure compliance.

Minimize Dependency on Failsafes: Overusing sedatives or punitive measures can lead to long-term degradation of the asset’s mental stability. Reserve these for situations of critical disobedience.

Monitor for Overuse: Excessive reliance on performance enhancers or painkillers can result in addiction, burnout, and reduced efficiency. Ensure the asset is rotated out of high-stress missions when possible.

Protect Facility Interests: If an asset demonstrates patterns of instability or questions facility authority, inform your superior immediately. Assets with implants are highly valuable and highly dangerous.

By following these guidelines, you will ensure that your asset remains an efficient and compliant tool in service of the facility’s objectives.

[xazz]

edit: love the fucking idiot who reblogged this and had to tell me about shit that doesn't apply to my complaints. Anyway. They're blocked and now no one can reblog. You're fucking annoying.

every time I join a new discord server I inevitably get frustrated with it

there's always something about most discord servers that just drive me fucking crazy. Some stupid fucking rule they have. Some annoying fucking person. Some fucking server owner or mod who got an ounce of power and it all went to their head. There's always some fucking cliche that completely excludes others. My least fave is mods who will micro manage what channels you're even allowed to talk in.

I leave like 90% of the servers I join that I don't join and then immediately mute and never look at. Because they all inevitably piss me off.

I've run forums. I've run fairly large fan groups. I am the owner of a moderately sized server (like almost 100 people). I am not just spitting this irritation into the wind. I know how to manage a group of people. The micromanaging of people some servers do drives me absolutely insane. Most people are good, and don't wanna break the rules. But they also joined a server to engage with people. So many servers I'm on punish their users for engaging with people in the wrong place.

Like not even like 'you're talking about X in the G channel'. But 'you're talking about X and Y in the X channel' But because a mod came by while you were talking about Y well that means you need to go to the Y channel because you couldn't possibly have just naturally started talking about Y while talking about X and there's no way you could go back to talking about X!

I've been running my server for a few years now. Literally the only rules are 'don't be a fuck head' and 'be nice to each other' and 'encourage each other's ideas'. Like that's it! And we've got a bunch of channels for different things but I don't fucking nickle and dime them if they post the wrong thing in the wrong channel. Or if they start talking about something in said channels so long as they give room for others. And guess what!? People do! If someone comes into the channel or joins the convo wow what do you know they redirect to that. Often times they'll naturally go 'oh we should go to X channel' but I'm never gonna get on their ass because they're making friends while "Using the Channel In The Wrong Way"

Fuck off

discords fucking suck

[magicalqueennightmare]

Sins & Amends Chapter 31

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: a man by the name of Micro approachs Frank about having more answers as to what happened that day and the coverup that lead to it

You weren't sure what worried you more, the fact that it had been radio silence from Frank yet again or the fact that a murder suicide left five dead in little italy in a fashion that matched some of Frank's kills.

Karen had expressed some concern to you but you'd managed to convince her there was no way Frank was involved. You just couldn't seem to convince yourself.

You had finally fell asleep on your couch around three in the morning. The last shift had been hell then once you got home Ms Johnson came to your door around midnight because her granddaughter who was staying with her had accidently sliced her finger open. 

Needlessly to say you were a little pissed when you heard someone knocking at your door and glanced at your phone to see it wasn't even ten. "Someone better be bleeding I swear to Christ" you grumbled staggering to the door. When you opened it you felt your mouth fall open in surprise at the fact that Frank was standing at your door.

You quickly stepped aside to let him. "What are you doing here? You could've called! I would've met you somewhere!" You weren't worried about yourself as much as him taking unnecessary risks. You immediately dropped your line of questioning when you saw the shape he was in. You'd never really seen Frank look rattled. Yeah you'd seen him pissed, in mourning and out for blood but this shook you to your core "Frankie what happened?" 

You took a step towards him but when he stepped back you froze "Someone's coming after me Y/N" "What? Who? How?" You couldn't manage to form an intelligent question considering as far as you knew besides yourself Karen and Curtis were the only ones who knew he was actually alive. Well Matt knew he'd saved his ass against the hand but he didn't know you saw Frank as often as you did and you knew even without the fact that he'd have to reveal himself to be daredevil to tell the truth about Frank, Matt still wouldn't.

"Goes by the name of Micro. Says he's got answers about Schoonover and Kandahar" Frank not meeting your eyes when he spoke was never a good thing. "And what you think I said something?" You were more than hurt at even the suggestion that he may have thought that. He immediately shook his head "No sweetheart. I know better than that. Red ain't let anything slip has he?" You shook your head "No. Not only would that tell his own secret but he wouldn't do that"

"I had to ask" he started to walk past you to leave but you grabbed his arm before he could make it to the door "Hell no. You come here, wake me up, tell me someone's after you then try to leave? No. Frank you're not in this alone. Fucking tell me what happened in Kandahar. What were you into? I need to know so I can help you"

He shook his head before finally looking at you "Our group. Y/N we were tasked to some CIA bullshit. What we did...what I did. It wasn't war not like I know it. We were doing interrogation and assassination plain and simple"

You dropped your hand while your mind worked to process what he was telling you "You think Micro knows more of what happened? You think someone's still alive that was involved in the cover up?" He nodded again then dropped his gaze once more "I got a disk to the house. It's a video of one of the interrogations" you tried to work your voice twice before you managed to get out the words "What happened in the video Frank?"

"I killed the man we were interrogating. He was a cop over there" your hand flew to your mouth when you connected the dots he'd laid out "Frank don't do this to yourself. No matter what this Micro does or doesn't know you are not the reason Maria and the kids are gone" 

"What if I am?" He nearly whispered. "You're not god dammit" you could be just as stubborn as him. "I already went to see Curt. I'm going to go talk to Karen. See if she can find a lead on this guy..Y/N watch your back. If anyone even suspects I'm still alive.." You knew what he was trying to say. "I'll be careful but you've got to promise me if you need my help you'll accept it" he was still for a moment then nodded "I promise"

He pulled his hat and hoodie back on then before he walked out the door he glanced back at you "I'll call you or get Curt to when I have some idea of where this is headed" "Ok" you replied and watched him walk out.

--------------------

You figured after Frank left any more sleep was by far out the question so you were dressed for the day and locking your door when your phone rang and you saw it was Karen.

"I'm outside" was her greeting so you replied "and I'm headed down" 

When you walked into the lobby of your building Karen was standing there with two coffee cups and held one out to you "Wanna take a walk?" She asked glancing around at the few people. You nodded and led the way out the door.

-----------------

"I agree with you Karen. It's unnerving as hell to see Frank so rattled. This Micro guy is supposed to have answers about Kandahar and everything that came after" the two of you were walking next to the river and the slight chill was enough to be more of a comfort than a hindrance.

"So there's more to the cover up?" She suggested and you turned to look at her "All three of us always thought it went deeper. That's why you tried to stop him from killing Schoonover. I'm just afraid what if this time it kills him?" 

She reached out and pulled you into her side "I'm worried about him too. Maybe we can get answers on this Micro guy and maybe he's on Frank's side but we both know he isn't going to stop until he knows for certain everyone who had a hand is brought down" "I just want him to have an after. He deserves it" you said and she nodded "Yeah he does...another unrelated question. How did he know I like white roses? He left them so when I find something I can put them in the windowsill as a way to let him know" That made a surprised grin slip onto your face "Maybe I told him?"

------------------------

After you and Karen went your separate ways with plans for you to be at the bulletin first thing to help her research Matt called to see if you wanted to grab some dinner with him and Foggy. Marci was out of town visiting her family.

You were trying to keep your attention on the conversation at hand but that was easier said than done. You kept circling back around to what Frank had finally told you about Kandahar. Matt finally leaned over and whispered "Are you ok?" You forced a smile and laid your head over on his shoulder "Guess I'm just tired" 

Foggy looked between the two of you then laughed "Matt man, get Y/N home before she falls asleep on the table!" "Franklin! I don't look that bad do I?" You asked putting just enough of a quiver in your voice his eyes widened "No! I just meant you'd probably rather be alone or alone with Matt than here" "Oh so I'm not a good friend to you then?" You pushed and just before he started actually panicking Matt cracked up laughing "She's messing with you Foggy"

"It's so easy! Your mama raised you right. You can't stand thinking me or Karen is upset with you!" You teased and he shook his head but laughed "Well I'll take the compliment"

----------------------

Once Foggy was in a cab Matt grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze "You want to stay at my place tonight? Or I can walk you home?" 

"I'd love to stay at your place but I've got to meet Karen first thing..that offer stand for tomorrow night?" You asked stepping close enough to let your lips barely brush against his cheek.  "That offer stands for tomorrow night" he replied with a smile.

-----------------

The next morning you had off so you were sitting in Karen's office knee deep in a box of files. "There's nothing here useful" you grumbled kicking the box then flashing an apologetic smile to the intern who she'd just called in to take them back down to storage.

"Y/N I'm getting your id photo taken next week" Ellison said the moment he walked in to see you sitting on the corner of Karen's desk. "Nice to see you too" you replied before Karen asked him about any article that hit on a computer hacker who went by the moniker micro. He glanced back at you so you shot him a smile "There was a story. Someone bought it to me. Supposedly he had a lead on an NSA analyst who was leaking secrets, went by the name Micro"

"And?" You asked hopping off the desk to shut the door. He looked from you to Karen and shrugged "and I decided not to run it" "Why?" You and Karen asked in unison. He scoffed "because I'm an editor. It's what I do, part of the job description actually"

Karen shook her head "No Ellison, don't get sarcastic with me. I know the play. Why" he sighed "Didn't have any evidence. I mean his only source was this guy from Homeland who refused to go on record" he looked from you where you were standing behind him to Karen who was standing across the room before adding "and then special agent in charge of New York Carson Wolf stopped by personally and asked I not pursue it"

"So then the story is true?" Karen stated more than asked. "According to him if we ran the story it would have interfered with his investigation. He was afraid we'd screw up chances of catching everyone involved" "and you agreed to that?" You demanded and once again he simply shrugged "I decided to wait for the bigger story and make a friend of Carson Wolf" "Oh my god Ellison!" Karen exclaimed sitting down and you mirrored her actions sitting on her desk yet again.

Ellison looked from her to you before saying "Look, I'm sure I still have the article in my office. So if I give it to you, will both of you stop looking at me like that?" Karen cut her eyes at you so you nodded "We agree" she told him before standing to follow him to his office.

---------------------

You read over the article sitting at Karen's kitchen counter. According to official sources David Lieberman a.k.a. "Micro" had been shot and killed by Homeland. 

"What does this guy have on Frank Y/N?" She asked and you bit your lip as you pushed the article back across her to. "Well for one if Carson Wolf is dirty which lets face it he more than likely is this cover-up is bigger than you or I ever imagined"

"and for two?" She asked and you knew she meant why did Frank seem so concerned about what Micro knew on him. "Some things happened in Kandahar. Frank doesn't want anyone else getting hurt because of that. He loves me like a sister. And he cares a lot about you Karen. I.. Its not in my place to tell you but just know he's still just looking for answers and trying to protect those of us he has left"

She nodded and about that time her phone rang. She showed you the blocked number and you knew it was Frank.

------------------

That night you ended up having one of the roughest nights of sleep you'd had since right after Maria and the kids were killed. You knew it was because you were worried about Frank but you very well couldn't tell Matt that. 

There was blood everywhere. You could feel it soaking up through the carpet under your feet. You just couldn't see who was hurt. You walked around a corner and realized you were in Frank and Maria's living room and there in the middle of the floor was Maria, Lisa and Frank Jr in puddles of blood. "Ria!" You screamed running to her side but before you could reach her the dream shifted you were now kneeling in the middle of the bulletin with Karen's head in your lap as she took her last labored breath. "This can't be happening..not again" 

One by one you ended up dreaming of everyone you cared about dying in front of your eyes, from Karen to Alice all the way to Matt and Billy. They all died in front of you and you were helpless to stop it. You ended up waking Matt up around two from the sounds you were making in your sleep. "Y/N..wake up" he gently shook you.

You jarred awake and were startled for a moment until you remembered you were in his bed, you were safe. You tried to tell him about the nightmares but started sobbing the moment you opened your mouth so he just pulled you into his chest and held you. "Thank you Matt" you finally managed so he kissed the top of your head "You're welcome Y/N. You're safe here. It's ok"

--------------------

You knew what the dreams were telling you. Your subconscious was fucking you over because you were helpless to save Maria and the kids and now yet again you felt helpless to assist Frank so when he enlisted Curtis into a game of Cat and Mouse with Micro you wouldn't take no for an answer.

That's how you ended up in Mount Zion cemetery while Curtis delivered Frank's "message" you'd walked up behind Micro who had a gun pointed at Curtis.  David, Micro whatever he wanted to be called wasn't a very physically imposing man.

He was tall but lanky with a mop of curly brown hair. Poor guy looked like he'd been through the wringer.Your job was to stay in the shadows unless he actually tried to shoot Curt than you'd do what you had to. The whole show was simply to buy Frank enough time to hitch a ride in Micro's trunk and have the element of surprise to find out what he knew considering Carson Wolf was now dead and had said in  no uncertain terms that the slaughter of Maria and the kids were very much targeted and went deep.

When Curtis walked away you knew that was your cue so you double backed to his car. When you walked up he opened the passenger side door "How do you think this will play out?" You climbed in then said "Hopefully they play nice but just in case I put a burner phone in the trunk that we can trace in a couple days if we haven't heard nothing"

Curtis started the car and as he pulled away said "We're medics how the hell did we get roped into having a rendezvous at a cemetery with a fricking spook?" You shook your head with a laugh "I have no clue Curt"

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny

[beardedmrbean]

LUCKNOW, India (AP) — An Indian state has approved an unprecedented uniform code for marriage, divorce, adoption and inheritance for Hindus, Muslims and other religious communities under new legislation that also requires couples that live together to register with the government or face punishment.

Northern Uttarakhand state lawmakers passed the legislation on Wednesday and its approval by the state governor and the Indian president is seen as a formality before it becomes law in the state. Muslim leaders and others oppose the Uniform Civil Code initiated by Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Hindu Nationalist party saying it interferes with their own laws and customs on such issues.

India, the world’s most populous nation with more than 1.4 billion people, is comprised of around 80% Hindus and about 14% Muslims. Muslims accuse Modi’s right-wing nationalist party of pursuing a Hindu agenda that discriminates against them and directly imposes laws interfering with their faith.

“This is a nefarious political design to drive a wedge in the society on religious lines,” said Yashpal Arya, an opposition Congress party lawmaker.

Pushkar Singh Dhami, the top elected official in Uttarakhand state, said: “The new legislation is not against any religion or community, but will bring uniformity in the society."

Other states ruled by Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party are expected to introduce similar legislation. If the BJP wins national elections expected in April or May, it may bring such legislation at the federal level.

The new law bans polygamy and sets a uniform age for marriage for men and women — 21 and 18, respectively — across all religions and also includes a uniform process for divorce.

Hindus, Muslims, Christians and other minority groups in India currently follow their own laws and customs for marriage, divorce, adoption and inheritance.

Asaduddin Owaisi, president of the All India Majlis-e-Ittehad-ul-Muslimeen, said the legislation is merely a Hindu code that applies to all.

"I have a right to practice my religion and culture. This bill forces me to follow a different religion and culture. In our religion, inheritance and marriage are part of religious practice," he said on X, formerly Twitter.

S.Q.R. Ilyas, the spokesperson for the All India Muslim Personal Law Board, said: “The bill is unnecessary, and goes against the principle of diversity. Its primary target appears to be Muslims, especially since even (some Indigenous tribes) have been exempted."

A significant feature of the bill is the introduction of stringent measures that require the registration of live-in relationships. Couples failing to register their live-in status with district officials could face up to six months in prison or a fine of 25,000 rupees ($305) or both, said Manoj Singh Tamta, a state government official. He said the bill explicitly states that children born out of such relationships will be considered legitimate offspring of the couple, inheriting all legal rights available to those born within a traditional marriage.

Sanjay Agnihotri, a consultant with a non-government organization that works in micro-financing, said he and his girlfriend belong to different castes and their families oppose the idea of them marrying. They relocated to another city and started living as partners without formalizing their relationship through marriage.

"However, the new legislation mandates us to register our relationship, which could potentially subject us to unwarranted police scrutiny,” said Agnihotri.

Uttarakhand became the first Indian state after it won independence from British colonialists in 1947 to adopt legislation on marriage, divorce, land, property and inheritance for all citizens, irrespective of their religion, a key part of the BJP's agenda for decades.

[threadsun]

Pre-bed Question:

Draft Update:

SDJ aphrodisiacs series

SDJ unwilling royal marriage series

Bo x f!reader 69

Jack babytrapping reader

Joseph x teacher!reader x Jean smut

Spicy werewolf mating headcanons

Jean shower sex

SDJ boys talkin dirty series~

Jean catches Joseph and reader

Telling the SDJ boys you want to get bred

Joseph x reader x Jean dirty talk and edging

Jack period oral sex

Jean caring for reader after Ian breakup

SDJ thigh riding

Jack x reader noncon while Joseph watches

Servant!Joseph x queen!reader

Nick teaching a shy reader about bdsm/his job

Ian babytrapping

Vampire AU Ian and Joseph accidentally turn reader

SDJ + Bo sex worker headcanons

SDJ the first time you call them daddy

Vampire AU Jack accidentally turns reader

SDJ + Bo walk in on you masturbating

Jack x reader x Rory somno noncon

Jean x reader role reversal

Rory and Jean come home to reader baking their favourite dessert

SDJ with an autistic reader

Jean blackmailing you into staying with him

Jean x reader post-escape attempt noncon

Director!reader smut

Rory fucking reader on the kitchen counter

f!reader finds out she's pregnant

Bo x bunny!reader

Ian x reader somno, drugging, noncon

Jack x reader loud sex while Shaun is next door

SDJ + Bo find out you're a horny bottom who likes it rough~

Bo x f!reader pred/prey punishment for flirting

Using toys on Doe~

Jack and Joseph x petplay reader

SDJ with reader who has mood swings

Jack x reader blood kink

Shauna mommy kink

Ian x dom!f!reader mommy kink

Doe x virgin!reader

Fucking Jean (who's Ian's dad)

Comforting Doe during a thunderstorm

SDJ x tsundere!reader

Shaun helping aroace reader get off

Jack x fairy!reader micro/macro

Jean bratbreaking kidnapped!reader

Bo changing his vibration settings

SDJ carrying reader to bed, but getting pulled in for cuddles

Ranger Alan!

Jack x Alan fighting for dominance

Alan breeding kink

Jack x reader hypno noncon

MDHM + SDJ in the hunger games

Jack x reader cockwarming

Hypnokink Alan

Rope bunny reader calls them daddy

Reader chokes Jean and doms him (angry sex)

Rory x reader whipped cream and chocolate syrup

Reader is a sadist with a praise and breeding kink

Jean bullying a flustered reader

Hatchet Man Cult AU >:3c

Doe with an equally obsessed reader

Jack x reader dollification

Shaun x reader ghostface rp

Grinding on Jack

SDJ + reader with tentacles

Doe stalking you and watching you touch yourself

Doe with an artistic reader

Jack birthday blowjob~

Barry drugging and noncon

SDJ + Bo swapping bodies with you

Joseph being a freak about your virginity (sexy)

What dogs they'd be

SDJ + Bo with a drunk reader

Ian ball slapping

Joseph x m!reader who works on a different kids show

SDJ + Bo as incubi

Bo x reader x Jack competing to fuck reader better

SDJ + Bo aftercare

SDJ + Bo helping reader who can't walk after being fucked too hard

Barry x reader with an attitude

SDJ + Bo with a sweet, innocent reader

Jean x reader fighting and fucking

SDJ + Bo seeing reader exercise/do yoga

[therese-lokidottir]

The Avengers: Earth Mightiest Heroes & X-Men Evolution series watch

The Man in the Ant Hill written by Christopher Yost

This episode begins somewhere in the African jungle where scientist Hank Pym is studying a rare piece of vibranium that was discovered by SHIELD. Ulysses Klaw invades Pym's lab in attempts to steal the sample but is quickly defeated by Hank utilizing his Ant-Man technology.

Sometime later in New York Janet van Dyne expresses disappointment that Hank's only interested in his research and not utilizing his abilities for anything else. A supervillain named Whirlwind attacks New York City destroying after attempted robbery. Janet as The Wasp, engages in a battle with Whirlwind. During the fight, Wasp leads Whirlwind into Ant-Man's swarm of insects, stopping him from causing more damage.

After Whirlwind's capture, Fury thanks the Wasp and Ant-Man and offers them a recruitment pitch. However, Hank and Nick get into an argument about the prison that Hank created. Hank had designed the Big House, a prison that shrinks down criminals and places them in a miniature prison, for SHIELD as a way of rehabilitating criminals, not punishing them. Fury argues that Pym's views are too idealistic. SHIELD is fighting on the front lines to protect people from supervillains. Fury then asks if they even bothered to ask what Whirlwind had stolen, which was a sonic disruptor for Klaw.

King T'Chaka faces a challenge for the throne of Wakanda from the Man-Ape. Prince T'Challa tries to convince his father not to fight, but T'Chaka is a traditionalist and refuses to back down. During the battle, the Man-Ape fights unfairly and uses an invisible sonic weapon to defeat T'Chaka, killing him and claiming the Wakanda throne. In response, Prince T'Challa flees Wakanda, takes on the persona of the Black Panther, and leaves his homeland. Later on, the Man-Ape is revealed to have teamed up with Klaw, promising to give him access to the valuable Vibranium.

So a little trivia is that these first five episodes Were originally released as 20 micro episodes before being edited together. This is the episode where that is the most obvious. It's not a critique but this episode feels very much divided into segments. The Black Panther part was just kinda place at the end only tangtially related because of the vibranium.

As for characterization I think this is the strongest. Probably because Janet and Hank are together, they have someone to bounce off of in a strong way as heroes. Hank is really so sweet in this with his enthusiasm about science and thinking everyone must love it. Janet also comes of strong with her desire to be part of the action.

T'Challa sadly get a little a lost in the background as his interduction is more focused on the fight between T'Chaka and Man-Ape. Also people die on this show pretty violently. They don't exactly show it fully onscreen, but T'Challa gets beaten to death. Even the last episode Bucky crushed a man to death.

I really love how the animation of this show incorporates elements of Jack Kirby's art it' looks really cool. Also this show has such a strong used of shadows and colors that I feel is absent in a lot of modern action cartoons.

Speed & Spike Written By Bob Forward, Bob Forward & Rick Ungar

Storm watched her nephew Evan play basketball at his high school where Pietro Maximoff is also a player. Even scored the winning basket, but spikes grew out of his arms as he fell. Storm and Pietro noticed and later, Storm invited Evan to join Xavier's Institute. Evan asked her to wait until the next morning to talk to his parents. Xavier contacts Storm about Jean Grey and Scott Summers joining them. Cerebro detects a new mutant at a ball game. Evan's locker is broken into again and Pietro offers him money to catch the thief. Later, Jean, Scott, and Storm visit Evan's home but he behaves rudely and leaves. At school, Pietro wrecks the lockers and frames Evan.

Everyone meets at the jail to pick up Evan. Scott proposes Evan's release in exchange for joining the school. Evan agrees. The X-Men talk about his desire for revenge. Magneto and Mystique plan to recruit Quicksilver by organizing a basketball game between Bayville and Evan's former school. Evan trains with X-Men in the Danger Room. The basketball game is suddenly scheduled, so Kitty calls Evan. Evan confronts Pietro, but Jean and Scott arrive to help. Quicksilver wrecks Main Street. X-Men stop him. Evan is cleared, Magneto frees Pietro. Quicksilver agrees to join Magneto. At the mansion, the X-Men are gathered together. Xavier assures Evan that he is a welcome addition, and Storm agrees.

So, Pietro but no Wanda. She won't be introduced until the next season. I don't know why they did that if they had any specific plans.

This is the episode is another to touch on the self-fear that mutants might have about themselves as Spyke starts off with a reluctance to join the Xavier Insitute and not wanting to tell his parents he has a mutant despite them knowing it was possibly and clearly having no problem with Storm. I wish it could have delved a little deeper into this but it ends up being drop the first after the first act to focus on Spyke and Pietro rivalry.

This was another fine episode. The action scenes I feel were a little choppy but not bad. It's just compare to EMH they do come off a little weak in comparison.

Evan Daniels/Spyke was a character specifically created for the series. But he never really taken of in the mainstream comics.