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asirensrage · 3 months

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Unrepentant

Title: Unrepentant Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Sano "Mikey" Manjiro x Fem!Reader, Bonten x Fem!Reader Word count: 3599 Warnings: Dark!fic. Dub-con. Wearing a collar and leash as punishment. Talk of ownership. Edging. Coercion. Public Sex. Swearing. Drug Use. Threats. Choking. Orgasm Denial. References to drug addiction. Unbeta'd. *warnings are not exhaustive*

Notes: I had the urge to write something while listening to Poison from Hazbin Hotel on repeat. This is the result. It is a dark fic. Consider yourself warned. Reader is not described in looks or size. Please let me know what you think. (It's one of the many fics/oneshots I have planned or started for TR lol.) Enjoy!

HEED THE WARNINGS

How did it come to this?

You’re kneeling at his feet, eyes on the ground as the bass of music in the club thumps in time with the headache in the back of your skull. It’s punishment.

Not the headache. That’s the ache that comes with withdrawal, the same way your fingers twitch as you try to hold them in place. But the position you’re in. The collar tight around your neck that’s attached to a chain he holds. The tension is loose as if it’s not there, but you know if you even shift out of your position, you’ll feel it.

Feet come to pause in front of you, clad in expensive shoes. You don’t move, don’t look to confirm your suspicion about who it is.

“Look at you,” he coos. You can hear him clearly over the music, but it’s only when he bends down and tilts your head up to look at him, that you know you’re right. “You look like a fragile thing like this, doll. What’d you do to earn this?”

He knows. They all know. It’s just another test. Ran grins at you as you drop your eyes, knowing you can’t respond right now without permission.

“Answer.” The man holding your chain demands, yanking it slightly in warning.

You don’t flinch, don’t make a sound at the way it jars you. “I made a mistake,” you say, just loud enough that they both can hear you.

Ran laughs at that. “Yeah, baby? A mistake?”

It was more than that. The reason Mikey collared you and kept you chained tonight at his feet was a lesson in humiliation and obedience. In a fit of sobriety, you had attempted to escape. You didn’t get far.

“That what you’re calling it?”

You look up at Ran. He looks as handsome as ever, but you know the truth of what’s behind his good looks. You know how much blood is on their hands. You nod and drop your eyes again.

His hand grips your jaw tightly, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Such a pretty thing, baby. Open your mouth.”

Fear sparks up your spine. You’re in public, even if it’s the VIP area of the club. There are others around. The hesitation makes Ran dig his fingers in tighter, pressing your cheeks against your teeth as he forces you to open your mouth. He leans in and lets a lob of spit fall from his mouth into yours. You swallow, taking the revulsion with it. He smirks, letting go of your jaw before he pats your cheek. He looks up to Mikey who has the chain you’re attached to wrapped around one of his hands. “Let me know when you’re done with her. She can keep the chain.”

The worst part is that you can only blame yourself. This was a choice you made. Even if you didn’t know it would turn out this way.

⛓️

It had been chance that led you to them. A bad day, week, year…it had all added up to the moment when you found yourself stumbling into a firm chest. You had dropped the paperwork you had been holding and could only watch helplessly as it fell into the rain. You were crying before you realized it, the dam of stress finally breaking. You kneel on the wet ground, tears falling and mixing with the rain that had started to soak into your skin.

He could have left you. He should have left you, but the stranger you ran into paused and bent down, helping you pick up the papers. He made some ill-timed joke about it not being that bad, and before you knew it, you were telling him about how this was going to get you fired. The admission that you were struggling to provide for your family. A younger sibling, a mother in the hospital…you were their last leg of survival. And it was ruined.

Until he offered to help.

You should have run in the other direction and never looked back.

⛓️

You hear his laugh first.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” Sanzu says, leaning against the chair behind you. You can practically feel the heat of his body against your back. It’s not surprising. The outfit you’re in can barely be called a dress. “Shit, Mikey…you like her like this? You look like you belong there, sweetheart,” Sanzu says. You ignore the jeering. He likes to get a reaction.

“Maybe we should keep her like this all the time.” A foot nudges the side of your leg. Rindou. It wasn’t often the two of them were together, but it was a dangerous combination. Like the Haitani brothers together and in a competitive mood.

You try to ignore them, but then Rindou moves in front of you. He doesn’t bend down, but he slips his foot between your legs. You watch as he steps a bit closer before pressing the top of his foot up against you. You tremble, trying not to react as he purposefully tries to make you break, to make you beg, to do anything that counts as breaking Mikey’s rules tonight. You try to focus on your breathing instead of how he rubs his foot against you and how the laces on his shoes cause nearly enough friction on your clit through the lace of the underwear you wear.

It’s torture trying to keep yourself from grinding down on it, seeking a release you know they can give you if they’re feeling generous.

Finally, he pulls back and you let out a shuddered breath.

“You must really be sorry,” Rindou says.

A hand digs into your hair, pulling your head back until you’re looking up at Sanzu who’s staring down at you, cerulean eyes narrow in their glare.

“Are you?” he demands.

You nod quickly, tears prickling in your eyes at the pain of your hair being pulled with the motion. “It was a stupid mistake. I’ll be good!”

He drags a drag of whatever he’s smoking and leans down, blowing it in your face. The familiar scent of marijuana engulfs you and you breathe in quickly, chasing the tease of a high. Anything for an escape. “You better fucking hope so,” he says.

⛓️

Kakucho offers you two things when you finally get out of the rain. He’ll smooth over the issues at your job, follow you and explain that the destroyed paperwork was his fault…or he’ll get you a job. One that will compensate you far better than anything you’ll do in an office that doesn’t appreciate you. He can help you protect your family, to give them a better life and better healthcare for your mother.

You’re not stupid. You question his motives first.

He shrugs. “Maybe I just can’t stand to see a pretty girl cry.” There’s something in his eyes that warns you, but you ignore it...and ask what the job entails.

⛓️

Mochi doesn’t kneel in front of you.

He doesn’t do anything like trying to edge you or blow smoke in your face. Instead, he rests his hand on the top of your head as he speaks to Mikey. He stands in front of you, but in a way that feels more like he’s blocking you from the others. A small kindness.

Until he bends down and gently tilts your head up to look at him. He looks at Mikey before offering you a sip of his drink. You agree instantly, letting him tilt it to your lips. “You look good like this, princess. But I prefer you unchained. Hope you learn this lesson. You try it again and one of us just might have to break something.” The drink spills over your lips, making you cough as you choke on the sudden increase of liquid. You bend forward before you can stop yourself, coughing harder. The collar tightens as the chain doesn’t give any further leeway.

You hear someone laugh in the distance. You think it might be Sanzu but you ignore it, well aware of the pleasure they’re taking in your penance. Mikey had given you a choice when you were dragged back in front of him. Your life or your family’s. It was the same one that got you into this situation in the first place. Only this time, if you chose to leave them in the manner they picked, they’d go to your family and drag them deeper into the depths you were submerged in. Your mother was recovering. Your younger sibling has a future ahead of them. You couldn’t bury them in your regrets and bad decisions. You made the same choice you did last time. The same one you’ll make every time.

You go back to your kneeling position once you can breathe again.

⛓️

The job that Kakucho promises is a simple office job. One where you keep your head down and don’t ask questions. It lasts two weeks. Two weeks of learning the systems, of ignoring the small things you start learning about who you’re working for. Two weeks of dealing with the confused looks other people send you, of the way Kakucho appears occasionally to walk you out. Until he kisses you.

He doesn’t apologize when you reel back in surprise. His mismatched eyes watch you, hand grabbing your wrist before you get too far. It’s just a kiss, he tells you. Don’t forget why you’re here.

A reminder that you owe him. You nod and he lets you go, but the next day, a strange man is waiting at your desk. One of the other executives, you quickly learn.

⛓️

The pain in your head is growing.

You want silence or at least something stronger than a puff of smoke shotgunned into your mouth. You never used to do drugs. Funny how fast that all changed. Now you’ll take anything to forget.

Your legs have gone numb under you and you’ll be lucky if you can walk when he finally decides to take you home. There’s no other place for you. You lost your own apartment ages ago and while all the men have used you, Mikey holds you as tight as he does now, whether or not there’s a physical chain that links you. You owe him your life now. He was gracious not to kill you when you ran from them. This is a small price compared to what you could have owed.

“You gonna let her up?”

Takeomi. You don’t see him, but you hear him. If Mikey says anything in response, it blends too well into the background.

“Least he chose you a good outfit. Look up at me, darling.” They each have their pet names for you when they’re being kind…or wanting to mock you and your fate.

You wait for the tug signalling permission before you look up at Mikey’s advisor. He’s smoking a cigarette and standing there, looking down at you. He’s older, a scar on his face like some of the others. Different and yet so similar that it makes you think of Kakucho who’s either not attending or has been ordered away from you.

“You’re fucked up, aren’t you?” he asks. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth before turning to offer it to you. It’s not as strong as you want, but the nicotine might be enough to help ease some of the headache you’re feeling. He lets you inhale twice before he takes it back. An indirect kiss that’s tame compared to some of the other stuff you’ve done together.

“Thank you,” you say, knowing it’s required.

He smirks at you, taking another drag before he turns to Mikey. “You should keep the collar.”

“I know a place,” a new voice interrupts. Koko leans down as he steps up next to you. “We could get one of the ones that she can’t take off. With our symbol carved into it.” He looks at you carefully before lifting your head to look at him. “Thought you’d be crying.” He lets out a small sigh as if he’s disappointed. “You’re prettier when you’re crying.”

You look away, unsure of how to respond to that. Koko likes to spoil you, but he also likes to see you overstimulated and begging for him to stop. Every gift comes with a price and you pay the most with Koko’s.

“You should have come to me,” Koko says softly. “Would have fucked that mistake out of your head.” He uses your term, informing you that they’re talking about you. It’s nothing new. You’ve been with them all, separately and together. They’ve all seen you breaking apart around them and each other. It’s only everyone else that doesn’t get a taste of you.

⛓️

The first time you meet Mikey, you’re outside a club you never wanted to go to. It was some party for the employees and the entire floor had been invited. It had been made clear to you, not only by Kakucho but Ran and the others as well, that your attendance was mandatory.

You’re in the middle of eating one of the snacks you picked up at the convenience store on the way here, leaning against the wall of the club. There’s no line tonight and you’re in no rush to go in. You’d rather not drink on an empty stomach.

It’s not long before you realize someone’s watching you.

You turn to look, but when you finally catch them, it becomes a little more apparent that they’re not staring at you, but at the food in your hand.

“Want one?” you ask. He looks thin, his outfit too large on him. You’re not particularly charitable, but you’d rather get rid of the food and garbage before walking into a club. You offer the bag to him.

He stares at you, finally meeting your eyes, for a long moment. “Why?”

You shrug. “I’m full…and I don’t want to carry it. You can throw it out if you want, but it’s still sealed. I just bought it down the street.”

He takes the bag, pulling the pancake treat out and staring at the package. He looks back at you. “You here?” he asks, nodding towards the club. When you nod, he leaves and you watch incredulously as he walks in with the plastic bag in one hand. The bouncers don’t even ID him.

⛓️

Mikey pulls at your collar until you’re stumbling in front of him, leaning into his legs as you try to ease the pressure. He shifts his position before pulling and you’re left struggling as climb up into his lap at his silent demand.

You straddle his thighs, waiting until he directs you. You’re not usually this calm, this submissive, but the threat of your family’s lives hangs over your head. Regret for your own choices sits heavy in your gut. It’s your own fault.

“Look at me.”

You lift your eyes to meet Mikey’s. His gaze is dark, but it’s not empty like it used to be. Not like when you met. He stares at you for a long moment before his hand slips between your legs. Your breath hitches as his fingers shove your underwear to the side, pressing in. He doesn’t look away from you as he swipes up before pulling his fingers out. They shine slightly, slick with the wetness that gathered from Rindou’s foot and the way the men have come to tease you, to try to make you react to them to exacerbate your punishment.

He holds them up between you before moving them to your mouth. You open instantly, letting Mikey press his fingers down on your tongue. You close your lips around them, sucking softly and trying to clean yourself off of him.

“Trying hard to earn my forgiveness, aren’t you?” he says.

You nod, moving your tongue over his fingers until he shoves them further down your throat until you choke. Tears build up in your eyes instantly. He keeps them there as you struggle to breathe before he pulls them out.

You gasp for air, tears falling down your cheeks. A sharp smack against your ass makes you take a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from crying.

“You want my forgiveness. Earn it.”

⛓️

Your back is to his chest as you face the room. The music thumps in along with your heartbeat. You’re not sure where one stops and the other begins at this point. Smoke hangs in the air, a hazy mix of tobacco, marijuana and fog from the machines. It’s not enough.

You rock your hips, trying to build the pleasure for both of you. Mikey is hard inside you, stretching you deliciously, one hand looped around the chain attached to your collar while the other rests on the side of the couch he sits on. You’re doing all the work, trying your best to get him off, to ignore the eyes of the Executives on you. You’ve seen some of them palming themselves already, trying to ease the tension building from the sight of you fucking their leader.

You’d be more embarrassed if you weren’t so focused on this. It's not the first time they’ve watched you, but you’re usually somewhere more private. Not in the VIP section of a club, a open balcony where anyone could see you if they actually wanted to. The crowd would be able to hear you whining, desperate and needy, if it wasn’t for the music. You’re surprised but you don’t question the choice. None of them like sharing you and the last time someone else other than any of them walked in on you taking care of one of them, they ended up dead.

“Mikey–” you groan, grinding your hips back into his. “Mikey, please,” you beg. You’re not allowed to cum until he lets you.

The chain pulls suddenly, yanking your head back until you’re arching your back and your face is next to his. It hurts but you don’t dare complain. Not when you’ve managed to avoid it so far.

“You ordering me?” he asks. “You think you deserve to cum?”

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, hands reaching to the collar, trying to ease some of the pressure. You deviate before you touch it, hearing one of the other men groan in disappointment that you’re still coherent enough to not get yourself into more trouble. Instead, you cup your breasts over the slip of a dress you wear. “‘m sorry…” you whine, trying to move your hips, to chase the high that’s building.

“Look at them.”

Your eyes try to find the other men watching the two of you but the angle you’re currently forced into makes it difficult.

“The only reason you’re not being fucked by them is because of me. Because I haven’t given them permission.” He thrusts his hips up, making you cry out in surprise at the sudden change. “I own you. You gave your life to me and here you are, fucking yourself on me, begging me for a release you don’t fucking deserve. You want to cum? Fucking beg for my forgiveness.”

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, tears burning in your eyes from the pain of the position you’re in. “Mikey, I’m sorry! I’ll never run again! I swear! I’ll be good! Please, Mikey! I was wrong! I’m yours!”

“Hmm..” he doesn’t say anything else, but the pressure on your throat finally eases and you’re able to lean forward, breathing like normal again. You put your hands on his knees before going back to moving your hips, to using him to fuck yourself on at his orders.

It doesn’t take long before he tires of your pace. His hand is on your throat, his other arm wraps around your waist as he thrusts up into you. He pulls you down, slamming you onto him. There’s nothing you can do but hold on, begging for a release he’s continued to refuse you.

He breaks, pulling you down onto him, cock twitching as he cums inside. You moan at the feeling but it’s still not enough, not to get you off. You’re left on the cusp of your orgasm, feeling needy and desperate in a way that you’ve long gotten over hating yourself for.

“Mikey, please..” you beg quietly.

He pulls you back, hand stroking softly against your hip as he presses his lips against the spot behind your ear. “You ever try to leave again, I’ll gift you to my men. All of them.” The threat freezes in your chest. It was one thing to be shared amongst the top men of Bonten. It was a whole other to be given to the men who made up the layers of the organization. You wouldn’t survive it.

“I’ll be good,” you promise.

He kisses your neck again before holding up the chain that’s attached to the collar around your neck. “Ran.”

You turn, looking to see the eldest Haitani grin before getting up to fetch you. There’s a prominent bulge in his pants as he takes the leash from Mikey.

“Come on, baby. You gotta apologize to all of us,” he says with a smirk. “Think you can make it up to me too?”

“I expect her back when she’s done.”

You carefully climb off of Mikey’s lap, ignoring the feeling of Mikey’s release slipping out of you and trailing down your thigh, and follow Ran as he leads you by the chain toward the others. Regret churns in your stomach and you quickly shove it down.

After all, you can only blame yourself.

everything tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores

#dark!fic #bonten x reader #mikey sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #bonten smut #bonten x you #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #x reader #fem reader

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gintrinsic-writing · 6 months

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For @guardedchild and @fwoosheye, who requested physical affection and domestic interactions. Malon and references to Ravio were thrown in for good measure. :)

Legend’s first mistake was looking up when he heard the kiss. Though, really, how anyone could ignore the distinct, wet sound of a well-planted smooch from four feet away was beyond him.

The second mistake was making some kind of face. “Some kind,” because Malon immediately graced him with a knowing smile and closed the distance fast. “Don’t worry, I got plenty more love,” she told him with a laugh, already reaching for Legend’s face with two flour dusted palms.

“I’m good,” Legend began, eyeing the red lipstick on Time’s left cheek—and Time’s stupid, love-drunk grin, which was somehow worse than Malon’s—and taking a quick step back.

“Nonsense,” Malon told him sweetly. She gently brushed one thumb across the spot where Legend’s freckles were darkest. “I’d recognize that look anywhere. Homesick, huh? Link—Time—told me about Ravio. Don’t you worry, if he’s half the man I suspect he is to have caught your eye, I bet he’s missin’ you, too.”

Legend felt like he’d been hit over the head. “Wha—That’s not—Ravio isn’t—Time!” He turned his fiercest scowl on the older hero, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. Malon took advantage of Legend’s distraction and planted a light kiss on his forehead. He thought he might die on the spot.

“There!” Malon beamed at him. “Now, I gotta get back to helpin’ Wild. You boys make yourselves at home. And remember, Legend, you’re very loved.” That said, she made her way down the hall and toward the kitchen.

“Too much?” Time asked with a teasing smile once Malon was out of sight.

“Yes,” Legend snapped, rubbing his face like that might get rid of his obvious blush. He didn’t rub his forehead very hard. “Why would you tell her that anyway?”

“Isn’t it true?”

“No, it most certainly is not.” It wasn’t like he and Ravio had ever discussed anything. Except for that one time, which he was not thinking about.

“Hmm.”

“And besides, she’s not my wife.” Legend gestured toward the ruby red lipstick still on Time’s cheek.

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do,” Legend huffed.

“Oh.” Finally, Time looked a fraction of the awkwardness that Legend felt. “Sorry, I didn’t think— Neither of us meant to make you uncomfortable. I’ll talk to her about it this evening.”

“No, that isn’t…” Legend trailed off with a loud sigh. “Don’t make her feel bad. I’m just not used to it. That.”

“Not used to…?”

“Physical affection,” Legend grumbled. “It makes me feel weird.”

Time hummed shortly. “Bad weird?”

“Just weird weird.” Legend raised a hand. “Don’t get ideas—there’s no deeply rooted trauma or anything like that. I just don’t know what to do with it.”

Time thought about that for a quick moment. “Like with most things, practice helps. It did for me.”

This time, Legend was positive that the face he was making was a grimace. “I’m not going to join the Twilight and Wild cuddle piles. And Sky’s hugs are too intense, it’s like he’s trying to smother you.”

“I see,” Time answered in his usual cryptic, annoying way. “Well, start smaller. If you want to.”

“Meaning?”

Time shrugged, but there was something soft about the way he stared at Legend then, something understated but appreciative. “Whatever feels less weird.” And then, cataloging his movement in a way that was simple without being patronizing, Time reached out and gently ruffled Legend’s hair.

All in all, Legend thought, it wasn’t the worst thing. Far from it.

#i'm with legend on this one #i am always uncomfortable with physical affection unless it's like... my grandparents haha #anyway i hope you two enjoyed!#sometimes it's fun taking a break from the whump #lu legend #lu time #lu fic #linked universe #lu malon #ravioli #sort of? idk but someone asked me to tag that pairing so they could avoid it #gintrinsic writing

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c-t-r-l14 · 1 month

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This Audio Is SICKENING.

Ya’ll—I don’t even know where to begin.

When I tell you that I physically FLINCHED upon seeing Alex’s face in the thumbnail, the way my heart started beating, the way I started SHAKING while putting my AirPods in—you guys would’ve thought that I’ve gotten some terrible news or something. And—I don’t even know what’s CRUELER—the fact that Saku posted this audio on April Fools day, making us go back and forth between “is this cannon?” or “nah, this is definitely a joke!” Or him making it all lovey dovey at first, giving us a false sense of security—waiting for us to finally let our guard down so he could get ready to strike. But I do know that it broke me, and made me feel for listener even more.

I think one of the biggest reasons why it broke me so much was because we can see how much listener blames themselves. How much they think the breakup is all their fault.

And you can see how much its impacted them.

You see the thing with Alex is that he is really, really bad with communication. He’s rather quiet about how he feels, and doesn’t voice it out loud. A person like this—who doesn’t talk about their own feelings, who’d rather stay silent—usually are alone with their own thoughts. And that’s when things get rocky, especially in a relationship. One of the things that I noted in the break up audio (besides all the gaslighting, manipulation, and reality distortion), was the fact that Alex has had that argument on his mind ever since it happened, and not ONCE has he said something about it until the day they broke up. He was alone with his thoughts the entire time up to that point—mulling over the argument, his feelings, his future—and I feel like him doing this, instead of actually talking to listener to see how things can work out deadass lead him to believing that they couldn’t be together, which lead him to not tell them about the job offer until the very last minute. I wholeheartedly believe that if he sat down with them, and told them—“hey, I know you said sorry, but I still feel like shit because you made me feel this way,” if the thoughts got to be too much, then maybe things would’ve been better. But he didn’t—and just like listener, he assumed the worst, and on top of that— gave up without even trying to fight for the person he claimed to love so much. Instead, all he did was make excuses, act hypocritically, gaslight them, and blame them for everything—all the while not realizing that there was a whole bunch of things HE could’ve done better too.

And we can see how much it took a toll on listener—considering the fact that they were ridden with so much guilt that can’t even sleep well at night.

I can feel how much they hate themselves through Alex’s words as he tore into them, and this is honestly partly Alex’s fault, because he reduced them to a mistake they made. Dream Alex (who will now be referred to as DA from now on) was taunting listener—and throwing the words Alex said to them during the break up back to them. He kept on reminding them of their mistakes, and that THEY are the reason why he left. He kept on reminding them of the worst parts of themselves—and that’s high key what Alex did during the break up too. I feel like we all need to acknowledge that what DA said to listener in this audio is most definitely not a reflection of the way the real Alex would talk and act—simply because DA is a figment of listener’s imagination. And since listener is filled with so much hurt and heartbreak right now, of course their own guilt and self hatred is going to distort how things operate in their mind. So, let’s not take the things he has said at face value.

Listener has a lot to work on. Their trust issues left a wound that ran deeper than they initially thought. In a way, they are too much in their own head as well—and do end up going to the worst case scenario, and this behavior stems from the trauma they sustained from their former partner. This leads them to do irrational things, like invading Alex’s privacy and accusing him of stuff that only happened in their head.

Both of them have a lot of shit they need to work on. Alex needs to learn how to actually talk about how he feels, learn how to take accountability for the things he’s done wrong, and maybe grow a damn backbone, and listener needs to go get some damn therapy, get their trust issues sorted out, and learn all the facts before they come at people with any assumption they might have about them. I feel like this dream was kind of the point where listener realizes that they simply just can’t let their relationship end like this, because through this dream sequence, they realize that there was still a lot of stuff that was left unsaid, and are now seeking for some closure. I think now it’s the best time to go for it, considering that Alex apparently didn’t go to NYC and stayed in London instead (this is still very much unclear). And I am hoping and praying that his ass has the same nightmare listener had as well. Listener can’t be the only one who has a wake-up call (pun intended).

Their downfall was caused because these two idiots don’t know how to convey their emotions to each other properly. They could’ve had it all if one just actually opened their damn mouth to speak, and the other would just simply think before they open theirs.

This confrontation can go two ways: they cut each other loose and go about their own lives, or they find a way to make it work, (granted that they are BOTH willing to work on themselves).

Do I think their relationship is a lost cause? I don’t know. Something tells me that this probably isn’t the end, and a part of me (as much as I talk shit about how much I want listener to be an absolute bad bitch and leave him to drown in his regret), doesn’t want it to be the end.

With this being said, I still don’t like Alex. It’s gonna take much more than a damn walk down memory lane with a bizarre, brutal, dream version of him to get me to like him again.

Oh and by the way, Saku if you’re reading this—sleep with one eye open tonight.

Masterlist

#zsakuva alex #zsakuva #alex zsakuva #why did the beginning make me miss him a lil!??#this audio was so damn sad bro #poor listener dude #I still don’t like Alex though #sakuverse #They are both hurting #as much shit as I talk tho #I want them to end up happy together #this shit actually broke my heart

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methoughtsphantom · 2 months

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Wine Aunt Fright Knight Au

Have me a Fright Knight mistaking bby ghost Jason for the halfa child and kidnapping him, leaving him alone for a moment only to find the bby ghost freed himself in seconds and hid to grab him from behind and backflip him so fast he send him crashing to the window of which the kid stole the black curtain of to hide the makeshift of a mess his robin suit was.

hearing as he gets his bearings “sorry guy i already filled my quota in being kidnapped by tall black and broody shadow cryptids.” and watching the little dude disappear in a dramatic cape (curtain) sweep.

having the child pull up sometimes to the place he kidnapped him to to, in his words, eye some books he saw the first time. threaten to pull out the big guns (his sword) and make the kid live his worst nightmare only to get as a reply how unoriginal he is, like been there done that dude, rip off a new one, scarecrow did it better

literally having a bby ghost dodge every single attempt you make at slashing them with your sword without ever having to rely on his ghost powers, the kid is just like part acrobat and martial artist and escape artist and knows to pinpoint every fear tactic he uses and is just snark personified except when he throws at the older ghost references of books he doesn’t have in his lair to make him have them the next time he comes by

Jason the first time he knocks the bucket head of the Fright Knight: i thought you were the black knight not the headless horse, what the fuck really, did your mom just put all the legends in a blender and called it a day??

just a newborn ghost that apparently doesn’t even know how to ghost (nothing can convince Fright Knight that that isn’t why he doesn’t use his powers) and that he always tell to scurrie off nevermind he reminds him of someone, the kid just got quiet the one time he didn’t answer with a grunt and asked who.

just a lil teenager reminiscent of the fighting, a kid so obviously made out to be a weapon that it slowly tears at the Fright Knight how clear it always was.

just a big scary knight of terror ghost at first frustrating over this menace of a child he doesn’t want to acknowledge he’s getting fond of so he continues to attempt to slash him with his sword knowing the second the kid disappeared he would bring him back, and to who he glowers to when he sits next to him to read a book and talk about it. infinitely confused on why the kid seeks out his presence like there’s something familiar of it. begrudgingly coming to the realization he doesn’t want the kid to hurt. hesitantly making peace that’s it’s just jason projecting a safe figure of his past on him.

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viviartsy · 3 months

Text

Gassed Up: Ignition.

Prologue.

Chapter 1 is here.

Warnings: I believe none, for now. But for future reference, violence, foul language, drugs, alcohol, etc. So just proceed with caution.

Words: 1495.

Notes: If you see any mistakes, please tell me. English is not my first language. Also I'm basing this off purely on what we knew about Dubz until a few days ago. I'll watch Gassed Up as soon as I can, but the character will not change. This is the perception I have of him and it's very likely to be ooc. Every other character is completely made up and so is the story. I have also never done this before, so if you have any recommendations or anything you want to add, feel free to do so.

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It wasn’t that late. The streets were properly lit, there was the buzzing of people and cars going around her. Yet she felt so bad. So sad, so lonely, so out of place, so very homesick.

She wasn’t used to that feeling. Never would have she thought that leaving her little city back home to go live her dream would have her feeling this empty. She had no reason to. She was in London, of all places. She was also lucky enough to have a home there, family, people who already loved and cared for her very much.

It had been her dream, to grow up, finish her studies and move to London to find the job she always wanted. She had always known she couldn’t stay back. If she did, she would have been trapped there forever. She’d have to find a remote work, at best. Or worse, become a high-school teacher like her father wanted!

Yet she had persevered. She finished her studies just in time and with good grades. Her Bachelor’s Thesis granted her a scholarship so she could do her Masters in Arts without much financial support from her father. And, finally, without barely any convincing, her grandfather’s brother took her in his home. He and his wife had always cared for her and her sister, and they had promised her that if she ever wanted it, she would find a place to stay with them.

They had all been so proud she chose to attend university. Even for a measly Fine Arts degree, when so many people around her constantly diminished her work and dismissed her choices.

She had promised herself as a child that she would be great. The she would make herself proud. Proud of her work, of all her achievements. Even when the odds had been so against her she thought she’d barely make it out alive, she swore if she made it, she’d be great.

Yet nowadays she found herself awake at night, thinking about home. So much fighting in her earlier years had paid off when she left. Leaving behind the most wonderful people who supported her, who always dreamed big, so they made her feel like she could strive for more.

If she was being completely honest, it wasn’t that bad. The people attending the same classes as her were nice, she had made friends in her time there. Sure, they weren’t like the lifelong friendships she had made throughout her life back home, but they had only had so much time to get to know each other. She’d been there for only three months, so asking for more was a bit dramatic.

She had always had a knack for drama. “Artists” Her father would say, “always so sensitive”. Not that she could deny it.

A gust of wind made her shiver. It somehow wasn’t getting any warmer. Back home they had already put away the winter clothes. Yet there she was, pitch black at five o’ clock. Scarf and gloves on, freezing like a popsicle. That was the one thing she’d never get used to, no matter the time: cold.

“Don’t go out,” Her aunt had warned her. “it’ll be dark before you can even think of coming back. And then, you’ll see, you’d be wishing you didn’t go out”.

Oh, how right she was. As soon as she got off the bus, she wished she hadn’t agreed to go out for a study date at a café with her friends. Now that she was walking back home, three hours later, she felt utterly miserable.

And the worst part of the night was yet to come.

Noa couldn’t have been able to put into words what happened. One moment she was walking home with her head down because the wind was drying out her contacts. Next thing she knew two young men had cornered her against the wall of a house and were talking gibberish she couldn’t make out.

Turns out no matter how much one studies a language, even when you think you know everything, it takes some brainpower to make out stuff when you’re anxious, tired, scared… or really anything but thinking straight.

At first, she didn’t know if they were talking to her. They must have been, seeing the position they had her in. The two were young, like, really young. For all she knew, they must have been nineteen at most. She could hear them talking, but understood barely nothing.

Time didn’t stop, her senses didn’t heighten magically, and if adrenaline was pumping in her system, it must have been why she felt she had to run away from them. She couldn’t make out the situation, she felt more like a caged animal than a human in danger.

Because she was in danger, wasn’t she? She was not being insane. She couldn’t be.

“Alright, not much of a chatter, are we?” One of the boys said after a momenr, looking quickly behind him as his friend smirked.

She hadn’t heard the screech of tires against the pavement. Or how the front one hit the sidewalk and almost went over it. She only saw how the two kids’ expression changed from amusement and smugness to the kind of faces children make when they know they’re in trouble.

“Maybe the problem’s your breath stinks, champ. Ever heard of flushing?”

Somehow, adding another man’s voice to the situation didn’t make it any better. If anything, her hands were shaking and she wanted to cry so bad her eyes were burning.

“Leave her alone, kid. If you keep aiming that high, you’re gonna piss all over yourself”.

The man had taken off his helmet and was now leaning on the motorcycle, a black figure she couldn’t make out. Really, she should change her contacts. Her eyes were on fire.

“Yo, Dubz c’mon” The taller boy complained. And he really did sound like a kid right then and there. A kid being told off for being too rowdy. “We didn’t do nothing to her”.

Dubz shook his head, smiling a big amused smile.

“Seeing your faces was enough a scare for the night, bruv. Leave the lady alone”. He saw how the two kids were about to complain again, but he raised his brows, and they shut their mouths. “Get lost”.

And sure, get lost they did. They both huffed and left in the direction of a nearby park. Complaining through their teeth, but so very obedient.

“Kids” Noa heard him say. “They love to do the most”.

When she looked at him, she did so blankly. After few second, she blinked, which kind of calmed him a bit. It was unnerving, seeing her like a deer in headlights without so much as blinking once. She had tears in her eyes, but who wouldn’t? Her eyes must’ve been begging her for a break.

When her sight got clearer, she saw he was smiling a cheeky smile he sported oh-so-naturally. It made her feel like what just happened was child’s play. As if she hadn’t feared for her life, cornered in the middle of the street at night by two fully grown boys.

Unable to bring herself to answer, she took her hands from her pockets and started to run in the opposite direction of traffic. Maybe he didn’t catch up to her, but fear soon did, and before she could think she was running. Like her uncoordinated, shaky legs could lead her to safety before a bike caught up to her.

By the time she got home, she was exhausted. Never in her life had she run like that. She had experience with men being, well, men. But she had yet to feel as unsafe as she did just minutes ago.

Without much ceremony, she took off her coat, shoes and jeans, and jumped into bed a crying mess. So overwhelmed she quickly fell asleep, agitated and wishing she could be home, even if just for that one night.

Dubz was left dumbfounded. He looked at her run off, guessing following her would just upset her further.

Sure, the boys did kind of suck at flirting, and they had no sense of timing for it, but he wasn’t sure it was that big of an issue. Clearly, it was for her. He shrugged it off.

Just when he was about to leave, the engine already turned on, he saw something shining under his headlights. Bending down, and with difficulty due to sheer stubbornness- as he didn’t want to get off his bike-, he managed to get a hold of the item. It was some keys with a bunch of trinkets and charms attached to a heart-shaped key-chain. He couldn’t contain the laugh once he realised the poor thing had dropped her keys, which she must have been holding onto, when she ran away.

“Feisty” He simply commented as he put them in his pocket. Finally deciding to go back. They were waiting for him.

Illustrations.

First one is just a sketch, I'll try to update it as soon as possible!

#dubz #gassed up #taz skylar #taz skylar x reader #taz skylar fic #dubz x oc #oc

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bestworstcase · 5 months

Note

You’ve mentioned that you think Mistral is the worst kingdom for Faunus rather than Atlas. Could you please elaborate?

Mostly, Velvet knew who she didn’t want to be paired with. At the top of her list was the tall dude from Mistral. Less than a day, and Velvet had already been bullied by some of the upperclassmen at Beacon for being a Faunus, and of course, her tormentors were from Mistral. Velvet loved her ears, which only made it worse when people called her “bunny girl” or made those awful jokes she’d heard hundreds of times before, from the harmless-but-hurtful “hop to it” jabs to the squicky comments that made her feel threatened … the boys who joked about hunting rabbits or asked if she could teach them multiplication. The big kid hadn’t said anything like that to her yet, but his people didn’t like Faunus and didn’t mind letting them know how they felt.

and

“You’re from Mistral,” she said. Yatsuhashi blinked. “So?” “Your people don’t tend to like my people,” she said quietly. She folded her arms against her chest and turned away from him. For her the gesture worked, and she seemed to shrink a little. “I’m—” Yatsuhashi began. At the sound of his voice, the girl tensed. He lowered his tone as much as he could. “It’s clear that people from Mistral have hurt you before. I’m sorry that you had to experience that.”

and

“What about Mistral?” Yatsuhashi asked. “I’m not going to Mistral,” Velvet said sullenly.

<- all this is pretty telling coming from a girl who’s spent considerable amounts of time in atlas because her father works there, and yet has no similar fear of atlesians.

and then in before the dawn, we get stuff like this:

“Why did they decide to ally themselves with Vale, who’d done nothing but watch as mining companies from Atlas and Mistral drew resources out of the ground, taking the Dust from Vacuo and leaving behind barren sand?”

<- a vacuan character talking about events leading up to the great war and backporting the modern state of atlas to a time when that state did not exist in any meaningful sense. (and i don’t think this is a mistake, because vacuan characters in this book are frequently sloppy in this way; theodore refers to ‘mistral academy,’ jax says haven when he means mistral. it’s a cultural thing.)

so a lot of the deep vacuan antipathy toward atlas is motivated by things pre-war mantle did… whereas the faunus protagonist hates mistral and is afraid of mistrali people because all but one of the mistralis she’s ever met have been viciously and overtly racist to her. that’s a noticeable difference.

and then in V4-8, we see the atlesian and mantelian attitudes toward faunus and… it’s not socially acceptable in either city to be overtly bigoted in the way velvet has come to expect from mistrali people. in V4 we see this conversation:

JACQUES: That’s precisely my point. We offer faunus the exact same wages given to the rest of our mining staff; their argument’s completely invalid right out of the gate. ATLESIAN MAN: Well, I think the bigger issue here is our society as a whole. JACQUES: Why, you mean Atlas? ATLESIAN MAN: Atlas, Mantle… You can’t deny the economic disparity between the two. ATLESIAN WOMAN: I mean, what exactly are you suggesting? ATLESIAN MAN: I’m just saying I don’t think it’s necessarily an issue of compensation as much as it is one of opportunity…

<- which tells us two things:

first, jacques—who we know to be virulently bigoted, because weiss parroted things she learned from him in V1—cannot be so in public. his bigotry informs his behavior in obvious ways, but he screens it behind a mask of plausible deniability. “we pay faunus the same wages as anyone else! see, i’m not racist!” jacques is very, very image-conscious and he’s a covert bigot.

second, the atlesian everyman here is conscious of the class inequality between atlas and mantle and brings it up to push back on jacques’ covert racism; “it’s not about the pay, it’s about a systemic lack of opportunity.” we’re hearing this from an atlesian businessman; it’s a mainstream position. and it’s lukewarm at best because the guy is a businessman, but it shows why jacques has to veil his bigotry like this.

similarly, in mantle, we have the drunk guy call blake a “stupid faunus” before weiss dumpsters him and his drinking buddy kind of… doesn’t react to the dumpstering other than to (belatedly) recognize weiss, there are a bunch of dejected human miners sitting alongside the dejected faunus miner in the truck in 7.1, the most popular candidate in the race for the council seat has a faunus spokeswoman, racist grandma’s adult daughter is frantically trying to get her to shut up and stop making a scene before yang steps in, there are generally a lot of details that together establish that at an individual level, most humans in mantle don’t feel any particular antipathy toward faunus.

so faunus in atlas/mantle face a status quo which systemically disadvantages them—many of them live in deep poverty and economic mobility is low across the board—but the general public mostly sits in an indifferent-to-nominally-supportive zone. certainly there are people like jacques or the madame or racist grandma but at least in the present they are constrained by the social consequences of being openly racist.

which presents a pretty stark contrast with the extremely overt racism velvet has experienced from mistrali people. every human kingdom sucks for the faunus in different ways—even vale (no one does squat to address the racist bullying) and vacuo (faunus were enslaved there too and velvet, the only faunus transfer student, gets singled out for bullying)—but atlas/mantle and mistral suck in particular due to the historical institution of slavery, and mistral sucks the most because on top of all the systemic shit, mistralis are known for being horrifically racist and proudly open about it.

it’s probably worth noting that sun “the white fang are stupid holier-than-thou creeps who use force to get whatever they want!” wukong went to school in mistral. and probably worth noting lionheart’s utter political irrelevancy in comparison to ozpin (public figure, gets tapped for sound bites when random huntsmen screw up in RH) or ironwood (two votes!) or theodore (de facto king of vacuo).

lastly, the adam character short? the first part is set in mistral—note the architecture here:

so this?

the group of humans out for faunus blood because the faunus dared to drive through town? probably either mistrali or animan. they might be valean—it’s hard to tell from the landscape bc both kingdoms do look similar—but in the scene after this, the transition to vale is signaled by the red trees of forever fall (and that’s also 4-5ish years later given that blake is now. you know. a teenager there), so i think in the absence of distinctive landmarks here it makes the most sense to read it as mistral, like the last scene.

#mistral’s an old empire it’s had more practice 🙃

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changbunnies · 10 months

Text

Sugar (Outlaw 2) 18+

♡ Pairing: Cowboy/Outlaw!Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: wild west au, cowboy/outlaw au, porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k (i got carried away lmao)

♡ Summary: Despite how terrible of an idea it is, Y/N can't seem to stop herself from continuously going back to the outlaw she let defile her. This is a sequel, and you can read part 1 here !

♡ Warnings: strong language, changbin is still mean and condescending in a "nice" sort of way. not as dubcon as part 1 but it is still a major theme, references to guns and gun fights, bounty hunters, and death + murder, discussions about morality + having a morally gray sense of right and wrong, discussions on purity and being impure / tainted / a "whore" (remember that this is a historical setting, and those views don't hold up! your worth as a person is not measured by purity and sex), their relationship is probs toxic lmao

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): references to part 1 and other past dubcon situations, petnames (darlin, sugar, sweetheart, good girl, baby. reader is also refered to as a toy once but not outwardly called one), power play, oral (f+m receiving), fingering (f receiving), orgasm denial, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: a sequel to Outlaw that no one asked for but i was compelled to write :') as usual, if you’re interested you can check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

no first paragraph before read more because it goes straight into a dubcon discussion and i don't want anyone who would be bothered to accidentally see it! <3 just click the read more and enjoy !

You really should know better. You should know it’s a bad idea to keep going back to the outlaw who violated you, who treated you like a toy, who’s sense of morality was gray at best and entirely nonexistent at worst. How foolish must you be to continually make the same mistake over and over again? To return to the man who treats you as an object suited to his needs and entertainment?

Yes, you really should know better. And yet, here you are again, with the object of your fury and desire standing before you with that signature smirk and amused glint in his eye. Because despite everything, you find yourself addicted to him. You seek him out, again and again, unable to resist no matter how much the rational part of your brain screams at you not to.

The first time you met him again following that fateful first encounter was by coincidence. Changbin had strolled into your town as the sun hung low in the horizon, tying his horse to one of the many hitching posts outside your family’s saloon before entering. You didn’t notice him right away, much too busy serving drinks to the men on the opposite end of the bar from where he sat, but once your gaze finally reached his..

You froze completely, eyes wide and breath halted. His brow raised when yours eyes met, a delighted glint in his eye as his famous smirk overtook his features. Your mind and heart were racing, grappling between what you should do and how you will look if you make a scene out of him being here. He didn’t intend to stumble upon you here when deciding to settle in town for the night, but by God, was he glad this was the place he chose.

He had noticed you first evidently, and was just waiting for the moment when you’d notice him too. And it was amusing seeing you so disconcerted by his presence, your strong persona faltering the minute he entered your space. He knew where your safe space was now, knew where you called home and where to come find you if he ever so chose to. You, the timid rabbit ensnared in a trap, and Changbin, the deadly hawk ready to devour.

You had to get it together, had to proceed as normal if you didn’t want someone else taking notice of your odd behavior and asking questions. If you were in your right mind, you could probably think of an appropriate excuse to why you were pushed off kilter, but Changbin left you anything but in your right mind.

“What can I get you tonight, sir?” You said after taking a brief moment to steady yourself. The entire exchange of looks the two of you shared likely lasted mere seconds in reality, but it felt like an eternity. He smiled, a mischievous one that did your racing heart no favors, before he answered, “A bourbon, if ya please.”

The night continued as normal for a time following that, with Changbin acting as a surprisingly well behaved bar patron. Though, the only reason he was well behaved was because his eyes were fixed on you. He watched in delight as you wrangled in rowdy patrons and ducked advances from drunken men left and right. It was fun for him; watching you in your element like that, navigating the clamorous saloon with ease and redirecting trouble with a well practiced stern sweetness. Even your rejections to your patrons were sweet, almost sickeningly so; batted eyelashes, rehearsed apologies and excuses, with empty promises of a ‘next time.’

Eventually it came time for the saloon to close, with locals shuffling through the streets back to their homes while guests from out of town had to decide whether or not they’d be paying for a room to sleep off the drink in. And it’s during that time that Changbin finally caught you alone, the door to one of the saloon’s secluded storage cupboards left ajar after you entered the room.

You were just following your nightly routine, checking what stock you had left and taking note of what you’d need to get more of before the week’s end, when you heard the subtle squeak of boots behind you. “Hey there, darlin’,” he smiled as he closed the door behind himself, stepping closer to you after the lock clicked.

“Changbin-,” your voice came out in a stern whisper, unconsciously taking a step back as he moved closer, though there wasn’t far for you to go in the small space, “Get out.” “Now, now,” he tuts, feigning disappoint as he takes another step forward, further closing the gap between you, “is that any way to treat a payin’ guest?”

“Regardless of that, you still aren’t allowed in here,” you scowled, but his grin didn’t falter; if anything, it grew larger, gratified by the brave front you were putting on. If it were with anyone else, your bravery wouldn’t be a front at all, because you certainly are a brave woman- just not with Changbin. With him, you’re weak, your spark diminishing the instant his eyes fall on you. And you’ll fight it, of course you will, but when all is said and done, you will give in. Because that’s just the effect he has on you.

“If you’d rather we do this out in the hall, I’m fine with that,” he challenged you, knowing very well that’s the last thing you’d want. His hand reached up to your neck, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and exposing your neck. “It’s a shame the marks have faded,” he said, voice low as his fingers traced your skin, “what do ya say we bring ‘em back, hmm?”

“Absolutely not,” you hissed, your hands landing on his shoulders as you tried to push him away from you. He stood firm despite your pushing, letting out a low chuckle as his fingers moved from your neck to your shoulder, and down the length of your torso. And to be fair, you weren’t actually using your full strength; you were holding back, and he could tell.

He’s familiar with how a woman who's desperate to get away will react- screaming, hitting, clawing; none of which is what you’re doing. And maybe that would make sense if you were the sort of person who’s fight or flight instinct was to freeze instead, but you're not. You’re brave, you fight, you don’t let men get the better of you.

So why is it that when it’s Changbin putting you in this situation, you easily relinquish control? Why were your attempts to put up a fight so feeble, as if you want to let him overpower you? The answer to that question is clear- the biting words and scornful looks doing little to hide the glimmer that hides underneath. You want him. And if you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself yet, he’d help you see it.

He brought his face close to yours, foreheads just barely touching, the scent of bourbon strong on his breath. The saloon had grown quiet with the closing of the bar and guests retiring to their rooms, and it made you wonder if Changbin could hear how hard your heart was beating. Your eyes were looking to the side, avoiding his piercing gaze.

Eyes that looked straight through you, eyes that uncovered your deepest, darkest desires with ease, eyes that left no room for secrets or lies. Those were the kind of eyes Changbin had, and he used the power they held to his advantage with you. You can’t hide from him; his eyes strip you bare, leaving you as transparent as glass.

Whether you admitted to your desires or not, he’d be the winner. If you gave in right away, confess that he filled you with an impulsive need you previously thought impossible, he’d take pride in the fact that he made you that way. And if you fought, if you denied and rejected, you’d grant him satisfaction when you inevitably crumbled to his touch. Either option left you the loser, because he knows he’s right, and there’s no escaping it.

A one-sided stalemate, where the victor was already predetermined. Your fate unavoidable, Changbin’s hold on your senses undeniable. He has you, and that's why you couldn't look at him. Because no matter how hard you denied it, the truth would be apparent. Much to your dismay, he sees you for who you are- try as you might, there would be no hiding it.

“Look at me, sugar,” he said as his hand hiked up your dress. He wanted to see the expression you held, wanted to see how far your self determination had fallen. Whether it was a look of submission this early on, or a look of pure contempt, it wouldn’t matter; because either way, there’s fun for him to have with you.

“What do you want from me?” you asked with eyes squeezed shut, voice beginning to tremble as his hand rubbed between your thighs. You’re not even sure why you asked, entirely; you knew this was nothing but a game for him, an addictive cat and mouse. He’s in it for the pleasure, for the thrill of making you crumble to his whims- it was as simple and clear as that.

“Oh, darlin,” he cooed as he leaned his head further down, lips brushing against your ear, “you already know what I want.” Fuck. He could see goosebumps erupting on your skin, noticed the way you instinctively tried to close your legs together, though his hand instantly stopped the act from happening. Fun, he thinks. Toying with you is so fun.

“I want you,” Changbin continued, bringing his other hand to your face and forcing you to look back at him. “I want you pinned down underneath me. I want to hold you by the throat while I fuck you. I want to watch you become stupid from my cock.”

Oh, God. Your face was on fire, heart bursting out of your chest, hopelessly ensnared by him; caught in a trap you had no hope of escaping from unscathed.

“I’m not going to let you do that,” you managed to say without stuttering, a feeble attempt to stand your ground, though the proverbial floor to stand on no longer existed. But with his hand nestled between your legs, you couldn’t hide the way your body reacted to his words; couldn’t hide the way arousal pooled in your underwear. Once again, your body has betrayed you.

“Is that right?” he grinned as he spoke, the amusement in his voice clear. He knew you’d let him have you, but the fact that you were denying it makes things much more exciting. “I don’t think that’s true, sugar,” Changbin said, now directly rubbing over your soaked underwear, “I think you’ll let me do anything I want.. I think ya want me just as bad as I want you.”

He was right, of course. Maybe you’d hide it for a time, but you won’t be able to resist for long. He’s frustratingly smug and assured, but it’s not without reason. Your self respect, your dignity, your purity- what had become of it? In blatant terms, it’d been ruined- forever marred by his touch, the damage to your body and mind irreparable. And whatever you could reclaim from what was left has been forever tarnished by your own actions. Tainted by your desire for the man in front of you, your thirst forever unquenchable, the very sanctity of your being in the hands of a criminal.

And in the end, he fucked you right there, in the small, tucked away storage cupboard, with your back against the wall, and legs around his waist. His strength held you up, his arms hooked under your own and supporting all of your weight, your desperate noises muffled only by clamping your hands over your mouth.

He made regular visits to the town after that, becoming a loyal regular of the saloon, charming staff and other patrons alike with his wit and allure. It was infuriating watching him play the role of a simple wanderer looking for work, his true nature and motives known only to you. No one else seemed to know what lied underneath the charming front. The worst kind of man, a manipulator through and through, a deviant who beckoned you to his room in the late hours of the night, the proprietor to a secret affair not yet uncovered by those around you.

However, he couldn’t hide his identity forever; his past actions eventually caught up to him when a gang of bounty hunters began to sweep the area with wanted posters in hand, eager to collect the reward for the head of Seo Changbin. He left town in a blaze of smoke and gunfire, shooting back at anyone who dared follow him.

You were relieved at first, knowing that Changbin couldn’t return without instigating a fierce gun fight for his life. But as the weeks passed, a gnawing feeling began to eat away at your chest. The bounty hunters moved on, carried by the promise of wealth further west, and yet Changbin hadn’t returned to town. And that was a good thing- or at least, it was supposed to be.

Did you.. Miss him? No, that was impossible. Completely unfeasible, utterly out of the realm of possibility. That’s what you told yourself, but the gnawing feeling doesn’t recede in the slightest; if anything, it grew stronger with each passing day. Did you really want to see Changbin again? No, it had to be the hormones talking- surely you weren’t actually hoping to see him again. He twisted your beliefs and made you confused, that’s all; you could recover from this with time.

But you’d been thinking a lot lately about what made Changbin different from the bounty hunters that hunted him, and you came to the conclusion that they weren’t much different in the end; they went wherever money and women called to them, a penchant for violence ingrained in the very essence of their actions. The only difference between them and Changbin was that he didn’t live under false pretenses or a faux sense of morality; he knew exactly who he was, and he didn’t pretend to be anything different in front of you.

And can you call yourself morally superior when at the end of the day you are still taking a life in exchange for money? Can you really say that one sin justifies another? Is it okay to kill someone if that person was in the wrong first? You didn’t think about these things until you met Changbin, and if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know where you stood anymore on whether or not someone like him deserved to die.

You found yourself questioning the people you used to applaud, and wondering if you were really as good of a person as you thought you were. Maybe these complicated feelings always lied within you, and all it took to bring them out was meeting the right person.

No, it was all Changbin’s fault that you’ve begun to feel this way. He warped your thoughts and desires, he made you doubt what you once held firm to, he’s bad for you.

But even so, knowing he’s bad for you, knowing that he makes you act irrationally, knowing that he triggers your deepest impulses, you are here again. Back in the place you first met him, the place you once called home, surrounded by the ghosts of your past, of the person you were before you met him.

“So we meet again, darlin’,” he said when your figure first emerged in his doorway, tense frame instantly relaxing when met with the sight of you, hand falling from its readied position on his gun holster. You are no threat to him, hungry for his touch as you are. Any threat from you would ring hollow, because for better or worse, he knows you. And you're certainly capable of a lot of things, but fighting against your basest desires doesn’t seem to be one of them.

You stepped inside fully, trying to have a nonchalant air about you, though you’re sure Changbin was able to see through it. He always reads you easily, always takes notice of even the most minute of changes in your body language. You’re sure that even now, he can sense the subtle shy anxiety that wells under the surface. But regardless, you’re here now, having come too far to retreat at the last minute.

And you know that he knows what it is you want, knows why you are here, but should you still be honest? Debase yourself by admitting your most carnal of desires? But at this point, what were you if not tarnished? Your worth can’t go any lower than it already is- you were already brought to your lowest point, so what was the harm in indulgence? If you were already ruined, why shouldn’t you disregard all you’ve ever been taught, all you ever thought you knew, and let him devastate you?

But no, you can’t do that. It would be too easy, and if there’s anything you’ve learned about Changbin, it’s that he doesn’t like easy. He wants you to stand your ground, he wants you to argue and fight against everything he says and does. He wants your eyes angry, for your voice to tremble with indignation, because it’ll make it that much better when he dismantles you.

He wants to be the object of your ire, for your resentment to build to the point of eruption, only for it to be eclipsed by how good it feels when he fucks you. Whether or not you truly hate him is up for debate at this point, and ultimately doesn’t matter much. What does matter is the fun you grant him, the cat and mouse game culminating into a moment that can only be described as pure bliss.

“I know, I know. Ya want me to fuck you, don’t ya darlin’?” He smiles as he says it, anticipating what your reaction will ultimately be. A glare maybe, with your face hot and red, or mousy as you finally admit openly how bad you want him. While the looks of animosity are his favorite, he likes the shy looks too; the timid expression on your face when he catches you off guard, a quick glimmer of embarrassment or sheepishness before you can conjure your antipathy to replace it.

“No. I want to fuck you. And you’ll let me,” you say, hoping to come across as confident and stern, “You’ll do whatever I want you to do.” “Oh? Is that right?” Changbin lets out a laugh, head tilting as he grants you another amused look. That’s certainly a surprise, but he’s not opposed to it. He can easily do that- give you a taste of control, that is. It’s an interesting proposition; a fun one.

He can let you believe you’re the one in charge, that you have the power to make the rules and that he’ll follow them. And maybe he will follow them- to an extent, of course. He’ll give you his ‘yes, ma’am’s’ and ‘whatever ya say, darlin’ ‘s, play the role of the obedient man cursed to follow your whims, hit you with tongue-in-cheek remarks and let you ‘tame’ him with harsh looks and biting words when he steps out of line. All so that in the end, when he easily takes all the control away from you, it’ll be that much sweeter.

It’s a fun game you’re offering him, so he’ll play the hell out of it. “Sure, sweetheart. You’ve been a good girl for me, I can give ya a reward,” Changbin smirks as he says it, clearly not taking you seriously in the slightest. But that’s okay, because you didn’t expect him to; you knew any attempt to wrestle control would be met with an amused smirk, you knew that none of your harsh words would do anything but fuel his delight.

The reason you’re doing this isn’t to try and gain some sense of control that you know you won’t be granted, and you don’t intend to make him genuinely submit to you; it’s just part of the game between you, and you’re doing your part to make it the most enjoyable it can be. Because if you’re addicted to Changbin, if you can’t escape the way his touch makes you feel, if you can’t get past the need and craving for him, then you need to make him just as addicted to you.

Just as your thoughts are consumed by him, you want his to be consumed by you. Think of only you, crave only you, make it so that no one else in the world can compare. You want to be the first person, the only person, he goes to when he wants to fuck, you want to be the drug in his veins, you want to eat away at his self-control the same way he eats away at yours.

Changbin could easily fight against your touches, stand firm in place and overpower you if he so chooses, but he’s letting you push him to his knees. “Oh, this is what you want?” he asks with his usual smirk, his hands already moving under your dress to squeeze at your thighs. “You could’ve just asked, sweetheart. I’ll do it if you ask me nicely.”

You roll your eyes, letting a scoff escape your lips. The only way he’d listen to a request from you is if he relentlessly teased and embarrassed you first. You can easily picture the way he’d grin at you, and the condescending tone and words he’d use to make your fists tremble and skin flush. Yes, even if you asked nicely, begged sweetly, or even desperately, he’d use it to ruin you.

“I’m not asking,” you say as you pull your dress up and over your head, tossing it to the floor beside you, because if Changbin is going to be between your legs, you want a full view of it. Rather than act though, he stays completely still, looking up at you with a lifted brow and not at all subtle smirk, as if to challenge you. A look that says ‘aren’t you going to make me?’

You bring your hand to his hair, tugging roughly as you pull him closer to your center, commanding him to get started. “So pushy, are you always this needy?” he teases with a laugh, but adheres to your demand nonetheless, wasting no time in letting his tongue out to lap at you, his hands now squeezing your thighs rougher than before.

Your previous affairs were a secret you held close to your chest, as you knew you’d be branded a “whore” if it was known you’ve had sex whilst unwed. That being said, you’d only done the act with those you had serious interest in. Sweet men, who treated you like an angel, with the utmost care and consideration. Careful touches and soft kisses that were carried through all interactions with you.

When they ate you out, they did so sweetly, with slow kitten licks and gentle caresses to your thighs. And it was nice, you even thought you liked it at the time, but you know that’s not what you want now. Everything about Changbin is different from every other man you’ve been with, and you want this moment to be different too. You want him to devour you, to make a mess of you, to make you feel a pleasure so foreign and intense that it consumes you.

And that’s exactly what he grants you- a pleasure so explosive you have to bite your lip to hold back the noises that threaten to leave you. The drag of his tongue can only be described as euphoric, and when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, you can’t help but let out a loud, shuddering gasp. You want to keep watching him, but you can’t- your eyes refuse to stay open, the pleasure much too intense to do anything else.

He can tell you’re close when your thighs start twitching, quick breathy pants and whines leaving you freely. And that’s when he gets an evil idea- an idea that will make you desperate and whiny, one that will rip any semblance of control out from your hands and place it back into his. A strong suck on your clit, a few quick flicks of his tongue, your body trembling as your mind screams close, close, close-

And in an instant the feeling is gone, all the built up pleasure receding into nothing. A frustrated whine leaves your lips, looking down to see Changbin staring back at you with that stupid fucking smile he has every time he successfully drives you crazy. “F-Fuck, you fucking asshole, you-” you prattle off insults, though the act does nothing but add to the satisfaction he feels; this is exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

You move your hand to the back of his head, pushing him back to where you want him and demanding that he keep going. And to your surprise, he does, though not without a muffled snicker first. And if your mind wasn’t so clouded by the desire to cum, you might have realized what his intentions were by going back in without a fight, but you didn’t have the mental capacity for that any longer. All you knew is that you wanted, needed, to release all over his tongue.

Changbin goes through the same motions as before, expertly building you up to your release, getting you so, so close, before pulling away again right before you can. Another frustrated, high pitched whine leaves you, hips stuttering in an effort to feel something, anything to bring your release to you. You look down at him again, eyes glossy from the tears welling in them, and fuck, that look really does it for him. The pretty look of aggravation mixed with desperation makes his cock impossibly hard.

You try to push him to your center again, but this time he resists, staying firmly in place and watching the way your expression twists into one of near anguish with an amused satisfaction. “Changbin-” your voice doesn’t come out anywhere near as stern and commanding as you wish it to; instead, his name leaves you as an urgent, desperate mewl. “Aww, poor thing. Ya gonna cry?” he mocks you, head tilted and an infuriating grin plastered on his face.

Fuck. You knew it wouldn’t be long until Changbin flipped the script and put you back at his mercy, but this soon? And he didn’t know whether you were genuinely vying for control or not, if you went into this with the intent to fight until the bitter end or if you were resolved to relinquish it after some time; what he did know is that he loved seeing you like this. Broken almost, resolve crumbled like a sand castle hit by a wave, so weak and ruined, all because of him.

“Want me to keep going?” he asks in a tone that is almost sickeningly sweet, another twisted smile of satisfaction on his face. You nod frantically, a shameless display of your need, and he smirks, answering your reaction with a condescending, “Why should I?” Another whine, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as indignation and desperation eat away at you.

Changbin coos when he sees the tears fall, another “poor thing” leaving him. Funny how he’s the one on his knees, yet is the one entirely in control. You beg wantonly now, countless utterances of “please” and “i need it”, all sense of restraint and shame seeming to have evaporated the moment your tears began to fall. The display makes his cock throb in his trousers, erotic beyond words, utterly enthralling and so pretty.

“Shh, that’s enough darlin’,” he says as he takes one of your legs and guides it over his shoulder, fully ready to support your weight and keep you standing for what he plans to do next. You keen when his tongue finally makes contact with you again, body shuddering as your head lolls back. One arm snakes around the leg not propped up on him, squeezing at the flesh within his reach, while the other moves between your thighs, fingers prodding at your entrance for just a moment before sliding easily inside.

He gives you no time to adjust to the thickness of his fingers, setting a fast pace with them from the very start. Your eyes roll back, a cacophony of lewd noises filling the space as your high quickly builds back up for the third time. Between the earlier denied orgasms, the relentless pace he��s setting now with his fingers and the way his lips feel wrapped around your clit, you’re already dangerously close.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, both as a means to ground yourself and to keep him as close to you as possible; and it only takes a few more thrusts of his fingers and flicks of his tongue to send you over the edge. You cum hard, Changbin’s body and hold on your leg being the only thing keeping you upright as the waves of pleasure course through you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your entire body shaking, with the only noise you’re capable of making being sharp gasps as your release spills on his tongue and fingers.

You sink to the floor when he moves back and lets you go, legs akin to jello and no longer able to support your weight after having what was easily the most intense orgasm of your life. Your eyes are still closed, breathing labored as you try to bring your mind back down to earth. Changbin meanwhile rises to his feet, being the one to look down at you now.

It’s a pretty sight; your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, tear stains on your cheeks and body flushed. But it could still be prettier, and he knows exactly how he wants to achieve that look. “Open your eyes, sweetheart,” you hear Changbin’s voice call to you from above, and when you do you’re met with quite the sight.

His cock is in one of his hands, trousers having fallen to the floor around his ankles. You must have been too lost in your haze to hear him unzip his pants, or to hear the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor. You look up at his face next, taking in the expectant gaze he’s shooting at you.

You’re half tempted to say no, to make a big show out of protesting and coax him to put you back in your place, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want his cock in your mouth right now. It’s not often you’re granted the pleasure of sucking him off, as he usually he goes straight into fucking you after he’s done with his merciless teasing- so you’ll play the good girl role, just this once.

You shift to be fully on your knees, opening your mouth wide for him and letting your hands rest on his thighs. He brings a hand to the back of your head, pushing you the rest of the way when you hesitate, ensuring you take the entirety of his length in your mouth in one go. You gag when the tip touches your throat, but Changbin’s hand holds you in place, preventing you from instinctively retreating.

The way you're looking up at him through your lashes, eyes glossy with fresh, unshed tears and nose touching his pubic bone- it’s enough to drive him wild. But he won’t lose it just yet; he’ll grant you a small kindness by giving you a few moments to adjust, to familiarize yourself with the feeling of his cock down your throat and learn how to breathe through it. He can’t let his favorite toy completely suffocate on him, after all.

He sets a brutal pace once he’s sure you’re adjusted, sparing your poor throat no mercy. You can barely even hear the low groans he lets out over the salacious sounds leaving your mouth and throat. It’s a struggle not to choke and sputter every time he thrusts back into your mouth, and each failed attempt causes the tears on your lashes to spill over.

The saliva that has pooled in your mouth escapes out of the sides, sliding down your chin and dripping onto your chest. You can’t help but squirm as he holds your head in place, your nails digging into his thighs as you try your hardest to ignore the growing ache in your jaw and effectively breathe through your nose. You can feel his cock twitch against your tongue as his pace becomes the slightest bit more sporadic, and for a moment you think he intends to cum down your throat, but he doesn’t.

He pulls out instead, a subtle smirk on his face as he watches you take big, gulping breaths to allow air back into your lungs. You wipe your face clean with the back of your hand before you look up at him, knowing he’s far from done with you. He takes you in his arms, helping you rise to your feet (though you doubt he’s helping you due to any sort of caring, and is only doing it to get you where he wants you faster.)

“Come with me, darlin’,” he says as he leads you to the bed with him, paying no mind to the unsteadiness in your legs as you try to keep up with his pace. Changbin sits first, pulling you onto his lap immediately after. You already know what he wants, but you can’t- your knees ache from the time spent on the hard floor, and the usual strength in your legs has all but evaporated.

“Bin-” you start to whine, complaints lingering on your lips, but he tuts before you can even begin to speak them. “What’s wrong, sugar? Didn’t ya say you wanted to fuck me?” Fucking asshole, throwing your words back at you and looking at you with that devilish smile. He should know you weren’t even that serious about it! He’s just being cruel. “I can’t, I-”

“You can,” he interrupts, guiding you to align yourself with him, “You will.” His hands are holding your hips, another expectant look on his face as he waits for you to sink down on him. “You’re so fucking mean-” you cry, body trembling as you lower yourself onto his cock. He just grins, knowing very well that if you truly hated how mean he was, you wouldn’t have crawled your way back to him.

Your pace isn’t all that fast given the ache in your knees, but contrary to what you’d expect, Changbin doesn’t scold you. Instead, he cups your face under the chin, directing you to look at him. “So sweet, aren’t ya sugar?” he smiles, thumb rubbing your cheek while his other hand stays firmly on your hip, “such a brat sometimes, but you do whatever you're told in the end, don’t ya? Such a good girl when ya want to be, huh?”

You should be ashamed of the way his words fill your stomach with butterflies, but you truly can’t help it. He knows what he’s doing too; knows how to drive you absolutely crazy, knows how to be mean in just the right way, so that when a praise hits your ears it affects you all the more.

However, despite your best effort, you can’t get your legs to cooperate with you any further. Your legs feel so heavy, and having your hands firmly placed on Changbin’s chest for support does nothing to ease the unsteady trembling. It’s a subtle sort of humiliation- making you do something he knows is near impossible in your current state.

The tears are welling in your eyes again and threatening to spill, frustration in your gut and exhaustion completely taking over your body. Your legs throb from the exertion and fatigue, your energy beyond spent, you can’t keep going. Your pace slows to a near stop, and you look at him pleadingly, teary eyed and pouty, a silent beg for his help.

He knew you wouldn’t be able to do it for long, but he made you do it anyway, because this is what he really wanted. He wanted to watch you turn into a pathetic, whining mess, he wanted to relish the look of anguish on your face. He has to be cruel to you, because the end result is always so addicting.

“Tell me what you need, baby. Need my help? Need me to fuck you?” he smiles sweetly as he asks, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. You nod quickly, leaning into his touch that shouldn’t at all be comforting but somehow is in your near-delirious state. “Use your voice, sweetheart. I gotta hear you say it.”

God, he loves when you get to this point- where all anger and shame has been replaced by the overwhelming desire and need you feel for him. You’re babbling out pleas over and over, and he takes a moment to savor the sound of it before shushing you. “Hush now, darlin’, I’ll give ya what you want.”

He flips your positions easily, you landing on your back against the mattress and Changbin now hovering over you. You stare up at him as he sinks back into you, the sight of him making your heart race. It’s infuriating how handsome he is, especially in moments like this, where sweat lingers on his brow and his jaw clenches.

Changbin is good at acting unaffected by you, always able to make it seem like he’s not at all enthralled or addicted, always making your need for him appear one-sided. But the truth is he needs you just as bad as you need him, because in you he has finally found his perfect match. You wanted him to crave you solely, to look for you and only you, not knowing that he already was.

He didn’t seek you out all those times after your lucky re-encounter because it was easy or convenient; it’s because it was you, specifically. He’s no stranger to brothels and bordellos, nor to the coy advances of working women. There are countless women in the world, countless establishments he could spend his coin at to satiate himself, but they weren’t you. All he wants and all he needs, the very picture of perfection, you.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a sensual kiss as he starts to thrust in earnest, and the act makes your stomach twist. He’s kissed you before of course, but only ever with the intent to tease or humiliate you, and never while his cock was inside you. And you don’t know why, but it feels good. He can tell you like it too, by the way you clench around him, and from the way a pleasured noise he’s never heard before leaves your throat.

He keeps his lips attached to yours, tongues sloppily rubbing together. His fingers dig into your hips as he fucks into you, his tight hold leaving indentations behind in your skin. Changbin curses under his breath when he pulls away, both of your highs quickly approaching. You’re squeezing him so tight, and the feeling of your nails digging into his skin is intoxicating.

“Fuck, ‘m so close-” he groans, pace quickly becoming more sporadic. And this is normally the point he’d pull out, letting his cum spill between your thighs or onto your chest and stomach, but.. He looks at you, and all he can think about is how you’re his. He wants no one else to have you, no one else to touch you, no one to even look at you the way he does.

So instead, he pulls you in even closer, your chest firmly pressed into his as he presses his lips to your ear. “Gonna cum in you darlin’. You’d like that, right? Want me to fill you up?” You gasp at his words, one that transitions into a moan as your arms and legs wrap snuggly around him. It’s a bad fucking idea, but you want it so bad.

Whatever the consequences are, you’re too far gone to care about them. You want him to claim you in all ways; his teeth, his nails, his cum- it didn’t matter, so long as you were his in the end. “Y-Yes, please, I want it,” your answer comes out between shuddering inhales, desperate and eager for Changbin to release inside you.

It only takes a few more thrusts for him to spill inside you, the sensation of his cum shooting in you both foreign but good beyond what you ever could’ve imagined. His hips don’t stop moving even as he cums, and the continued thrusts paired with the feeling of being filled up for the first time sends you over the edge too, body convulsing in his hold as pure pleasure fills your senses.

You’re both breathless when you finally come down from your high, body going limp as you release Changbin from your hold. He pulls out slowly, and fuck, the sight of his cum dripping out of your hole is utterly intoxicating; he’s definitely going to become addicted to it. He lies next to you when he’s done admiring the view, looking at your face next with a subtle smile.

“What do ya think about being my lady? Hmm, baby?” he asks as he pulls you in, pressing your body into his as his arm wraps around your waist. You blink as you process it, a sort of warmth overtaking your body as the question settles in you. “...are you serious?” you can’t help but ask, unsure if this is going to transition into some sort of tease if you say yes or if the question is genuine.

“Dead serious, darlin’,” Changbin answers easily, his smile the most earnest you’ve ever seen it to be. Not at all condescending, no trace of a humiliating remark waiting to be said; he’s simply asking you a question, with nothing more beyond it. And he wouldn’t say it’s love that drives him to make you his, because genuine love is a foreign thing to a man like him, but this is likely the closest he’ll ever get. He just wants to know you’ll always be there, that you’d follow him anywhere he goes, that no matter where life takes the two of you, you’ll belong to him and he’ll belong to you.

And fuck, it’s a really bad idea. You really, really shouldn’t- you should know better. So why are you entertaining the idea? Why does the thought of spending your days with someone so objectively terrible make you so happy? He’s really fucking ruined you, it seems. He’s a terrible man who does terrible things, he’s a criminal, he’s a manipulator- your immediate answer should be a resounding “no.”

But the truth of the matter is that Changbin makes you feel like no one else; infuriated but desired, broken but simultaneously put together. You’ve come to enjoy the dynamic you have with him; you now understand the fun in the back and forth, the pleasure to be had in the banter and fight, how impossible it is to let someone who matches your energy go.

A life with him would surely be a life of turmoil, of danger and of risk. But it would also be one of pleasure and unforeseen excitement. Your life was good before meeting him, but it was also dull and predictable. You were likely to spend your whole life in the same place, forever at the beck and call of your parents, or a man that while sweet, wouldn’t excite or please you the way Changbin does. If you say yes, your life will change forever.

No, that’s not quite true; your life already has been forever altered by meeting him. You’re already his, and this is nothing more than a formality. Because why else would you be here right now, if you weren’t already his? For better or worse, you belong to him, body and soul, and you’ve come to realize that nothing will change it.

“Teach me how to use a gun and I’m all yours,” you finally say, and Changbin laughs, clearly pleased with the answer you came to. “You got it, darlin’. Just promise ya won’t shoot me by the time we’re done.” “No promises. I’d be careful if I were you,” you smile, tone light and playful.

“Is that a threat, sugar?” he meets your smile with one of his own, tilting his head to the side as he always does when he’s amused. “Sure is. Don’t pretend you don’t deserve it,” you answer, and he laughs again, pulling you into a kiss afterwards. Body to body, limbs tangled together as you smile at each other, he thinks about what a perfect partner in crime you’ll be from here on out.

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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my-castles-crumbling · 4 months

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I made a huge mistake almost a whole year ago and I still think about it all of the time.

I was working with this new staff member… and I did the worst thing anyone could do and assumed their pronouns… I was using the wrong pronouns for weeks until my sister told me that they go by they/them. When she told me that my entire heart shattered. I felt like the biggest asshole ever. How could I, a member of the lgbtqia+ community fuck up that badly. I felt horrible and of course I still do.! (No one knows I’m queer so I also feel like now they think I’m transphobic and/or homophobic)

I wanted to apologise but then I felt like I’d be making up excuses for myself and I’m also like really socially awkward so I didn’t end up saying anything.

The thing is, I still feel so horrible about it and I guess that’s a good thing bc at least I know that I care about being respectful but it just really sucks that I was misgendering someone for so long and didn’t realise the harm I could have been causing them.

I’m so sorry to be ranting to you at 2am but I genuinely don’t think I’ll ever get over this and I just needed to speak about it to someone.

Ps- I am the agender questioning anon and so thank you so much for helping me with that… I think I’m starting to understand myself so much more now!

So much love to you Cas, I hope you have the most amazing day! 🫶🏼

Hi love!

woah woah woah. Take a breath <3

Here's the thing. Yeah, it sucks to be misgendered. and yeah, in a perfect world, we should ask people for their pronouns every time we meet them.

But here's the thing: that's not reality. Why?

It's not always safe to ask for/share pronouns. There are many situations where I, myself, don't feel comfortable asking someone's pronouns or sharing my own. So I assume. And unfortunately, that means I get misgendered and so do other people. But my safety and the safety of others is first and foremost.

Also, it's a habit to get into, to ask people for their pronouns, even when they might present in a way that makes you assume. Habits are difficult to form, and sometimes a mistake like this helps you become more eager to form them.

And here's the thing: you did the EXACT RIGHT THING by not making a big deal of it when you found out and (I'm assuming) just using the right pronouns from then on. You didn't put that person in a weird situation and now they're being gendered correctly.

Let me give you an example that will hopefully make you feel better:

I have been wearing a pin on my lanyard at work for five months now with my pronouns. I work with about a hundred adults. Guess how many people use my pronouns? ONE.

Until the other day.

All of a sudden, my coworker started referring to me with my pronouns. And I was SO EXCITED! She didn't have to give an apology. She just needed to start respecting my identity.

All this to say: yes, it sucks to be misgendered, and in a perfect world we should never assume. But you're still LEARNING and if you've corrected yourself and do your best to do better from now on then, as long as this coworker is a decent person, they aren't mad. I promise!

Sending you lots of love and also maybe some forgiveness for yourself. <333

#ask #asks #ask cas

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witchthewriter · 2 years

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐠'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

a/n: female reader, requests are open. I haven’t written for Druig, ever, and this was kinda fun.

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✧ Your dynamic is: Enemies > aquaintances > friends > both secretly pining after each other but trying to hide it > you accidentally confess your feelings while under a spell > he grows distant > you save his life (bitterly) > he confides in Makkari and she tells him to get a grip > he confesses to you > but you rebuff him > then he keeps falling harder and harder; near begging you to forgive him

✧ Knowing that he’s an Eternal, even though you’re mortal yourself

✧ You meet when Thena, Makkari and himself are off to find the other Eternals.

✧ They enlist your help as your magical knowledge nearly exceeds the Sorcerer Supreme. You come from a long line of witches, one being your Aunt Agatha. You have natural abilities; levitation of objects and yourself, enhanced intuition and divination skills

✧ Yet you were recruited by Dr Strange himself, and from your studies with the Mystic Arts, your abilities grew

✧ With so much going on, the Eternals needed your help as nearly everyone else was busy making sure the end of the world didn’t happen ... again

✧ So it was decided that you would travel with them on their journey. Since it was unsafe for you to be involved and left in your home town

✧ Makkari became a quick friend (pun intended...) she was so kind to you, and taught you a lot of sign language. Even though she couldn’t communicate using speech, you two had a lot of deep conversations. She was very curious about your studies and your knowledge

✧ Thena was stoic, not speeching much but when she did, you were in awe. It was like gazing upon a goddess; Athena had always been one of your favourite greek gods (thanks to the Percy Jackson books). But you could’ve never thought you would meet the actual figure Athena was based on

✧ And then there was Druig. You had read about him once, in an old reference book about ancient druidry.

“What’s your power?” You asked, watching him lean against the far wall.

“I’m not a magician,” he responded harshly.

Even Makkari looked at him with shock, however Thena had understood where his anger was coming from. They had been chasing leads for weeks without finding anything.

“Prick,” you replied. Clearly in ear shot, you didn’t feel Druig had a leg to stand on really. Here they were, asking you for help. You were risking your neck, and here an immortal being stood, giving you lip.

I like her, Makkari signed to Thena, throwing a kind smile your way.

✧ After he asked for your forgiveness, you didn’t have it in you to ignore him any longer. It felt too cruel, not just to him, but to you. Your heart felt so broken, and here he was, near begging.

✧ He teases you a lot, like a lot. Holding things out of reach, hiding your supplies, calling you ridiculous nicknames.

✧ Druig loves being physically close to you; always having a hand, an arm around you, a leg hooked with yours, your head resting on his chest or shoulder.

✧ You brought as many of your herbs onboard; Druig loves the smell of rosemary, lavender, jasmine and cinammon.

✧ Druig likes to read all sorts of literature. He loves Shakespeare’s play Hamlet. He feels an afinity to the character - having the power to change lives, or stand by and let them make their mistakes.

✧ He likes to read to you out loud (although no one else is allowed to hear him).

✧ What was between him and Makkari was merely platonic. You all hold great respect for each other and know you can count on one another for anything.

✧ You played the song, the 30th by Billie Eilish and he cried. Druig is the most connected to humanity through his power. He knows the best and worst of humans and constantly needs to see the good in them.

✧ He doesn’t like to be touched by people, but others wouldn’t know that because you’re near inseparable

✧ He likes Slipknot

✧ Knows a lot about history, and yes being there was helpful. He tells you ‘what actually happened,’ and then Thena overhears and yells, “THAT DID NOT HAPPEN DRUIG, HE HIT YOU FAIR AND SQUARE.”

✧ He likes it when you trace random words, shapes, symbols on his skin

✧ Likes to play with your hair, and has picked up a lot of skills over the years. He does a mean braid

✧ He is GREAT with children and animals

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juicyflawless25 · 1 year

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Capillaries Are Bursting (Ch.2)

Notes; Trigger warnings for physical abuse and emotional abuse. If things like this trigger you, this chapter may be hard to read. Please proceed with caution.

Ch.1

Roger Face Reference ; Mads Mikkelsen

Not beta-ed, so all mistakes are mine.

In all honesty, Larissa felt that her marriage was more of a job than it was an actual marriage. For the entire twenty years that they’d been betrothed, Roger had used Larissa as leverage, as a piece to use when he wanted something. He took whatever he wanted to take and gave nothing back. Her feelings never mattered, that much was clear as she went around the room speaking to the people Roger wanted her to sweet talk and impress. Larissa had a way with people and Roger took full advantage of it. Her words always formed in such a way that made those around her listen intently. Everyone except Roger, of course. He only listened to his own bellowing, forever blowing smoke up everyone’s asses and loving every second of it.

As she chatted with the mayor of the town, gently touching the man on the arm to her husband’s request, she felt Roger’s eyes boring into the back of her head. He always kept an eye on her at these parties, making sure she did exactly as he told her. The only reason Larissa ever did as he told her was to keep the peace for those around her, but most importantly for her daughter. She was the most important thing in her life and her husband knew that. In heated arguments, threats against Olivia were always lobbied to Larissa like heavy knives. And each and every time, they hit their mark. Just like they had done earlier, before the party.

A malicious man, her husband was. That much was for certain. So, Larissa put on her best smile and played the room like a golden fiddle. She greeted everyone she knew with a smile, a touch to the arm, or grabbing their hands gently. All paired with carefully crafted words and phrases to make the other person feel as if she cared.

Did she care? No, not in the least bit. The high and mighty’s of Jericho were the worst kind of people she had ever come across. The only thing that mattered to anyone was their reputation and their money. They hobnobbed with each other in the light of day, making nice and giving vaguely veiled snobby looks at one another. And when one’s back was turned? There was sure to be ill-gotten gossip being slung around about this person and that. There was nothing genuine about anyone in Jericho and Larissa felt she was a part of that. She put on like her life was perfect, despite it being so far from it. But truly, it was her husband she had to thank for that farce. He wouldn’t let anyone find out any differently.

These thoughts and more crossed Larissa’s mind as she held onto the mayor’s arm, laughing with him and feigning the grandest time of all. At least everyone believed she was having a good time and enjoyed the company. Having them think anything else would warrant consequences from Roger in ways Larissa didn’t want to think of.

“That is a wonderful idea, Mayor Walker!” Larissa exalted with a grin, clapping her hands together in (mock) excitement. “I believe a statue of Joseph Crackstone would look marvelous placed in the middle of town. You’re brilliant for thinking of it!”

The mayor grinned widely back at Larissa, soaking in the praise she was throwing at him. The small group gathered around them nodded in agreement, everyone all smiles and enthusiasm. Larissa felt like puking, but she kept on the facade and did her best.

“Why thank you, Larissa. It just came to me recently and I feel it would truly inspire everyone in our little town of Jericho.” Mayor Walker flattered himself with his words, showing off like a peacock looking for a mate. Larissa wanted so badly to roll her eyes, but instead, she grinned and agreed, like always.

Roger lingered behind Larissa, watching her like a hawk stalking its prey. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, but it was starting to become more of a burden to do so. When she cut her eyes towards Roger, he looked somewhat displeased. A shamed heat rose to Larissa’s chest and she had to steel herself not to look terrified in front of everyone. She knew what Roger’s face meant, she knew that look in his eyes as he stared.

“Jericho is lucky to have you as their mayor, Mayor Walker. Truly such a brilliant man.” Larissa praised him a little more, hoping maybe this would placate her husband in some way. Her words must not have sounded very genuine to him, perhaps it was the slight drop in her smile and the way she had let go of the mayor’s arm. Larissa couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that her husband was not going to let whatever farce he saw slide.

“My apologies, Mayor Walker, but if you’ll excuse me for a moment. I have something I need to attend to.” She offered as she placed her hand on the man’s arm again, giving her biggest and brightest smile, her blue eyes conveying her apologies.

Before he could answer, Larissa had turned a made a beeline for the area she knew the bathroom was located. She could feel the anxiety and the panic rising in her stomach, coupled with the feeling that Roger’s eyes were still on her. Part of her knew that her biggest mistake was leaving the crowd, but the last thing she needed to do was fall apart in front of the most important people of Jericho. What would they think? That’s what she knew Roger would be thinking, what he would be yelling at her about later. That thought alone only made the panic rise higher and higher, making her feet move faster to make it to the bathroom in time to lose her metaphorical shit.

Larissa practically flung herself into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her before locking it and falling against it, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. Her hands were shaking and her legs felt weak, barely holding her tall frame up as she tried to find support in the wood door holding her up. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole, to make her disappear so that Roger could never find her. She wanted to run away, taking her child with her and making themselves scarce.

Sobs bubbled up from Larissa’s chest to spill from her mouth, rocking her body hard against the door. She slid down it slowly, her legs unable to hold her up anymore. Perhaps it was unladylike sitting on the floor of the bathroom in a dress, but at the moment Larissa couldn’t care any less. She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, holding herself tightly as she cried into the material of her dress. Strong shoulders shook with the force of her crying, making her chest feel tight and uncomfortable.

As she sat there sobbing her anxiety in heaving breaths, Larissa wished she had some sort of comfort from someone. She’d had so little of it through her lifetime and all she wanted was someone who truly loved her to hold her and tell her it was going to be okay. Despite being the tallest person in every room, Larissa felt small and unimportant, and empty. She couldn’t wrap her head around why she had to be given the life she was. Who out in the universe hated her enough to make her suffer this way?

Larissa sat that way and sobbed for quite some time, feeling helpless and alone. She knew she needed to get up and fix herself, to push these feelings aside and leave them for a more private time, but the anxiety riddling her body only steeled her to the floor. A moment later, loud, angry banging came from the other side of the door. Larissa gasped and scrambled away from the door in fear. She wasn’t usually one to respond in such a way, but the terrified feeling in her heart told her that Roger was on the other side of the door.

“Larissa!” Roger’s voice reverberated off the wood of the door, giving it an even more malicious tone. Larissa closed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to will herself up from the floor and the tears to disappear. “Larissa Weems, I know you’re in there and if you don’t come out this instant, I will be knocking down this door. What you’re doing is unacceptable. You should be out here with everyone else, doing as I told you.”

Her husband’s words sounded as if he was saying them all through gritted teeth. And truth be told, they probably were. His meaty fists continued to bang on the door, knowing that making such a scene would more than likely make Larissa come out of the bathroom. For someone who wanted things to look so perfect, he had no qualms in showing everyone who wore the pants in the relationship, who was in charge. The hatred in Larissa’s heart only grew the more he made a scene, the more he berated her through the door. Everything in her wanted to deck him dead in the face, but the woman in her that had been taught how to act in polite society told her otherwise. Fear, perhaps, held her back as well.

“I’m coming, Roger.” She finally called out, hauling herself up from the floor and looking in the mirror at herself. Her makeup was a mess, mascara running down her face in broken lines. “I’ll be out in a moment, just fixing my makeup.” Larissa explained, hoping she could do something with it before Roger gave himself a coronary. Honestly, she really did wish he would drop dead.

“Hurry up, woman! We do not have all evening! You’ve wasted enough time already!” He bellowed, belligerence soaking each word.

Larissa gripped the marble countertop with her free hand, trying to calm herself down before she had her own outburst. That would not bode well for her, especially in a public setting. She took in several deep breaths, dabbing at the mascara on her cheeks in order to make it disappear. When she finally felt like she looked somewhat decent, and all excess mascara was gone, Larissa stared at herself sternly in the mirror before nodding to herself and turning to head for the door.

When she finally opened the door, Roger’s bloated and fire-red face greeted her with a sneer. “Let’s go.” He said, grabbing her by the arm a little more forcefully than was necessary. Larissa followed with him, clearly given no other choice.

Several hours later, after night had fallen and the sky turned dark, the married pair finally arrived home. Larissa could feel exhaustion settling in her bones, her nearly forty age making her feel things in her body she hadn’t felt before. Although, the way Roger had manhandled her after they were in the privacy of the car probably wasn’t helping either. He was still seething as they made their way through the lavish front doors of their mansion. His mansion, as he had pointed out so many times before. Not that it mattered since Larissa felt it was more of a prison anyway.

The clack of Larissa’s heels couldn’t even be heard on the marble floor over the sound of her husband admonishing her for yet another problem only he saw.

“You’re an embarrassment to me, Larissa. I don’t understand why you can’t get anything right. All you ever do is fuck everything up! I often wonder why I even bothered to accept the proposal from your father about marrying you. You were supposed to be the perfect wife, you were supposed to be properly taught. But here we are, Larissa. Here we are having to deal with your screw-ups yet again. You’re too tall, you’re uglier than sin and it makes me sick to my stomach that I procreated with you. It’s a shame you can’t just shapeshift yourself into someone better looking! Then maybe I would have been more inclined to fuck you! Perhaps then your mistakes would be easier to overlo-”

Larissa turned around on her husband at that moment, her own anger crashing to the surface as she listened to his stinging words. He’d said the same things to her over and over again throughout their marriage. These were things she had heard so many times before, but tonight she couldn’t help but react to them. She knew better, knew better than to make his anger worse, but there was no stopping a speeding train.

“Shut up, Roger! My god! You repeat these same words over and over again, and I am SICK of you!” Larissa spat, hands flying with her ire. “All you ever do is berate me and put me down! I never wanted your hand in marriage! I never wanted you, never wanted whatever fucking life we seem to be living! If I’m as ugly as you say I am, then I pity your parents for having to raise someone even uglier!”

Larissa’s chest was heaving as she spoke her words, screaming at him and hearing her anger bounce off the walls back at her. Her entire chest and face were red from her exertion, making her feel hot and utterly foolish.

She opened her mouth to yell at him again, but not even one word came out before the back of Roger’s palm came striking against her cheek. Larissa gasped and cupped the spot where he had hit her. She could feel the stinging cut from the ring he was wearing, eyes tearing up as she knew this would leave a mark. Fury licked like flames in Roger’s eyes and he brought his hand up once again, on the verge of striking her again.

“Stop right there!” Came an outraged voice from the top of the stairs. Larissa turned towards it and her eyes went wide as she saw Deirdre standing there, glaring vehemently at Roger. “One more time, Mr. Weems, and I’ll be calling the cops.” The nanny threatened as she crossed her arms across against her chest, a resolve in her eyes that Larissa envied.

The two women could feel the malice rolling off of Roger in waves as he glared between the two women. It was clear he wanted to say more, very clear that he wished to harm them both, but they all knew that he wouldn’t want the cops coming to his home. Despite the fact that he was friends with most of them, the rapport having practically been created because of Larissa, he didn’t want there to be any rumors going around town over what Larissa and Deirdre would say. And Jericho was small, so word would get around quickly.

Roger lowered his hand slowly, an evil grin twisting his features into something Larissa wished she could unsee. “Very well then.” He said calmly, a little too calm for his wife’s liking. He straightened up and smoothed at the wrinkles threatening the lapels of his jacket. “This isn’t finished.” Roger threatened, looking Larissa deep in the eyes before making his way up the stairs. He spared no look at Deirdre, wanting to show her the least amount of respect possible.

Deirdre glowered at him with the power of a thousand suns before she let go of the breath she was holding. She looked down at Larissa, seeming so small at the bottom of the stairs and her expression changed immediately. It became softer, more gentle, and more caring than anything she could ever conjure up for that man who’d just walked away.

She tilted her head towards the hallway behind her. “Come on, let’s take care of that cheek, shall we?” Deirdre’s voice was but a whisper, not wanting to startle Larissa into any hysterics or fear. She held out her hand, despite the fact that the tall woman was all the way at the bottom of the stairs. DD gently nudged her hand towards her, giving a small smile to Larissa.

Larissa hesitated for a moment, wanting to hide her face and the tears wanting to spill. She was mortified and embarrassed, to say the least. But there were other emotions lingering underneath those. Admiration, astonishment. Those were good words, to begin with, as she glanced up at DD with watery eyes. She nodded, the updo of her hair bouncing with the motion as she started up the stairs.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Deirdre very gently took hold of Larissa’s elbow, wanting to guide her. “Is this alright?” She questioned, her Irish accent peeking its way through her words.

Larissa swallowed for a moment, hand still cupping her cheek, still in shock. “Yes, thank you.” She whispered, letting DD guide her towards whatever nearest bathroom was available.

The nanny delicately ushered Larissa into the bathroom she used the most, having stocked it with her own things in case she needed them for Olivia. She sat the beauty down carefully on the edge of the wide tub and let go of her with a reassuring, but sympathetic smile. “Stay right there. I’m gonna grab materials to help clean you up.” She rubbed her arm, waiting for a nod from Larissa before turning around and getting to work.

She placed gloves on her hands after washing them, wanting to make sure no infections would happen, just in case. She grabbed the first aid kit and some rags before looking over everything, wanting to be sure she had all she needed. DD could feel Larissa’s eyes watching her, but she paid no mind to it as she concentrated.

Larissa couldn’t help but watch Deirdre, wondering what she had done to warrant so much help from her. She had to blink back her tears for a moment, feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed by everything that had occurred. A tear dropped onto her cheek, despite her best efforts, and Larissa hissed from the sting of it.

Deirdre turned around quickly at the sound, eyes washing over Larissa’s form in worry. “Are you alright? What’s the matter? Did he hit you somewhere else?” She questioned, taking steps closer to the other woman, hands hovering over her but not touching.

Larissa shocked her head, hands waving with her answer. “No! No! I’m fine! I’m…fine.” She choked out, tripping over the last word unintentionally. “A t-tear just hit the cut.” She explained, looking down at the ground. She couldn’t bare to see whatever look DD might have in her eyes.

Deirdre wanted so badly to reach out and cop Larissa’s cheek, to give her some small hope that things would be okay. But she knew touching her right now would probably not be the best answer. After all, Larissa was her employer. And married, but that bit she almost wanted to ignore. But now was not the time for that train of thought.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Weems.” Deirdre offered, giving a sad smile to the woman sitting in front of her. She knew her words were only words, but there was not much else she could truly do. At least not right now.

A short, amused scoff resounded from Larissa’s mouth as she looked up at DD, a mixture of emotions lingering in those icy blue eyes of hers. “After pulling a move like you did with Roger, I firmly believe you should call me Larissa.” A small smirk etched the corner of Larissa’s lips and she gave a short nod, confirming her words.

DD smiled, tilting her head to the side a bit. “Well, Larissa.” She started, liking the way her name tasted in her mouth a little too much. “Someone had to step in. I may just be the nanny, but I firmly believe no woman should be hit or taken advantage of by a man or anyone else.” Her words were tinged with a strong belief in autonomy and feminism. It sent a shiver down Larissa’s spine. “Now, let me take care of you before you get a scar.”

Larissa had to laugh lightly at the boldness and authority Deirdre carried on her words, which also clearly stood proud on her shoulders. And she couldn’t help but admire the woman as she watched her methodically clean up her cheek, paying close attention not to hurt Larissa. There was a moment where the blonde thought she saw something akin to love in Deirdre’s eyes, but it was gone before she could even assess it.

When the nanny was done, she took a step back from Larissa and looked over her like a mother would a child. Something Larissa had done with Olivia plenty of times. “Looks good as new, love.” DD said, giving a curt nod.

Larissa pushed down the tingling feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach at the affectionate word, telling herself that she’d heard her use it for Olivia as well. It meant nothing, of course. This was just a woman looking out for another woman. With a sigh, Larissa rose and towered over DD for a moment, looking into the woman’s eyes.

A stretch of silence lingered for a moment as Larissa mulled over the thoughts in her head, feeling as if she should lean forward and connect her lips to the other woman’s.

But she did no such thing, straightening herself and learning her throat. “Thank you, Deirdre. I am grateful for your help this evening. But…” Larissa hesitated, concern making her eyebrows knit together and a crease to form between them. “Please, be careful when it comes to Roger. I don’t want him to hurt you as well.”

DD actually laughed for a moment before locking eyes with Larissa, her stare containing a resolve that no one could break down. “I’d like to see him try.”

#larissa weems #larissa weems x original female character #capillaries are bursting

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strawberrysunsets · 10 months

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The Empty World (Ch. 9)

Donald Pierce x fReader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The mutant discovers what happened to Laura at Transigen's labs, and has a run-in with the Reaver Commander.

Warnings: Swearing, injuries, mention of cannon death, mention of cannon torture, mention of cannon suicide, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: six months later, another chapter! Hurrah!

Chapter 9: Revelation

Strips of motion-activated fluorescent lighting flickered on one after another as the man before you strode through the cold, stark basement, glancing back for you to follow.

It had been a few days since your admittedly ill-advised first aid soiree with Pierce, and your pager had notified you this morning that you were due to be fitted for gear for your upcoming assignment. While you’d been hiding in your rooms since, hoping to avoid what was sure to be an awkward encounter the next time you saw Pierce, mission outfitting had sounded non-optional. So here you were, hoping against hope that you wouldn't run into the Reaver Commander in Transigen's basement gear storage unit.

The Recon Manager arrived at a side door, and swiped his pass to open it. Inside, racks of Kevlar and carbon fibre swished on either side of you, and you brushed a hand along the garments as you passed.

Going into Pierce’s rooms had been fun, in a perverse sort of way. Like watching a crime documentary. It was a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the life of a sociopath. And, yes, he was a sociopath with soft hair and a smooth southern accent – but he was only attractive in the way that any lethal weapon was. Like a blade honed to an edge, or a corrosive substance just whispering at you to touch it, his presence beckoned towards the heady rush of danger.

A masochist’s dream, you sighed internally. But at least you knew your own weaknesses. And something you’d gleaned from Pierce the other night, whether or not mashing your face to his had been a mistake (which was pretty inarguable), was that there were different facets to him. There was an off-duty version of him, for example, who seemed a hell of a lot more open to chatting about things that verged on the personal than the business-hours Reaver Commander did.

And that was something that might be useful, seeing as you were still in the dark about almost everything that went on at Transigen. Like why were they so invested in - and 'responsible for' - the mutant kids. Or what the hell kind of information they were so desperate to get back from Zenith Labs. Or how the fuck they’d made evil-buzzcut-logan, X-24.

So yes, you were toying with the idea of fucking Donald Pierce. If it got you any information, it didn’t sound like the worst possible way to pass your time at Transigen. If that failed, you could always go play in the radiation lab.

“Don’t touch anything,” the Recon Manager snapped, glancing back at you as he pulled open a storage locker. You raised your hands from the garment rack in surrender, but continued to stare around the room, casually itemizing what you could see for future reference. It might be handy to know what kinds of gear were down here, in case you ever had to make a short-notice departure from Transigen. Not that you wanted to do that, seeing as the fate of Laura and the others depended on your contract with Ansley. But still, it felt nice to know a few of their secrets.

When the Manager had collected an assortment of garments and pieces of equipment, he handed them to you with a cold expression, crossing his arms as he waited for you to pull on a Kevlar vest to check its size. He wasn’t a Reaver, judging by his lack of military apparel and macho attitude, but he was clearly anti-mutant. A Purifier? A follower of the Church of Human Potential? Who knew. It barely mattered, since there were too many varieties of hatred out there to count. And Logan had always said that they were all the same, in the end.

“These aren’t yours,” the Recon Manager said gruffly, when you nodded in assent at the size of the vest. “They’re equipment on loan from the facility. What comes back damaged comes out of your pay. If you get paid, that is.”

With that, he strode towards the door, and stood waiting for you to exit the room before he shut it behind you.

Just another day at the office, you sighed internally. And I’m sure this isn’t even the most toxic workplace out there.

Then again, you were considering starting a workplace situationship with your sadistic mercenary supervisor, so there was still plenty of room for things to go downhill from here.

~~~

As you lay in bed that night, you stared at the screen of the phone in your hands, reading the message you’d received that morning over and over again.

We are safe. Across the border.

The unknown number from which it had come was undoubtedly Laura, using the burner phone you’d given her. And they were safe. You didn’t know what that meant – if they’d found a true hiding place, or even other mutants, or had just escaped the tails Transigen had on them – but your heart ached with relief. For now, they were safe. And they would continue to be, as long as your deal with Transigen remained.

You flipped away from the messages app, and scrolled through the phone’s home screen, trying to get used to its controls. It was the phone Laura had given you, previously belonging to someone named Gabriela. Who that was, and what her story was, you had no idea - but she assumedly had no use for it, anymore. Maybe she'd been Laura’s family, or maybe just some unlucky bystander who’d helped the mutant kids and gotten themselves in the Reaver’s crosshairs, but she was clearly gone, just like every other person who'd ever stood between Transigen and their goals.

Your finger brushed the camera app in the phone's corner and it opened involuntarily, causing the ‘recent videos’ icon to catch your eye. Because there was a video there. You sat up in interest and tapped on it, and shaky footage immediately grew to fill the phone's screen.

“My name is Gabriela Lopes,” a woman said, sitting back in a chair in a warmly lit room. “I am a nurse, and for ten years I have worked at Transigen research in Mexico City.” The footage flashed, changing to a video of the exterior of Transigen’s gates.

Your eyes widened, and you sat up further, gripping the phone tightly.

The next clip was of Gabriela in a storage closet somewhere inside the lab, breathing hard and obviously filming in secret.

“Transigen is owned by an American company,” she continued. “What I am about to show you is illegal in the US, and Canada.”

The camera panned around to the hallway, and you watched in growing horror as a line of children – a few of whom you recognized from North Dakota – filed past.

“They told us we were part of a pharmaceutical study,” Gabriela continued breathlessly. “But that was a lie. These children were born in Transigen. They were born here, and never left. They have never seen the sun, or the ocean. Rain, or snow, or any of god’s creatures. They have no birth certificates, no names besides the ones we have given them.”

Then Laura appeared on the screen in your hands, asleep in a narrow bed, and you made an inarticulate sound of horror as you covered your mouth.

You’d heard Laura imply that she and her friends had been at Transigen's lab together, but you’d thought that it was because they’d been kidnapped and brought there. That Transigen had wanted to study them, because they were the first mutants born in 25 years. Not that they were from the lab.

“They were raised in the bellies of Mexican girls,” Gabriela's voice continued, careless of your mounting horror as the video panned over a few bloody hospital beds. “Girls no one can find anymore. Their fathers are semillas geneticas; special seeds in bottles.”

Then Pierce appeared on screen, and you inhaled sharply, watching as he dismantled the domestic scene of one of the kids’ birthdays. The video continued, flashing past scenes of the children being injected with large syringes full of fluid, and then a boy using his powers wildly, attacking the personnel around him. And then Laura was back – only this time on a bloody surgery bed, with half a dozen tubes sticking from her arms. A team of doctors worked on her, and familiar metallic claws protruded from her knuckles.

You choked out sob, and tried to steady the phone in your shaking hand.

Laura, slashing her own forearm with the Adamantium blades.

Men running up a flight of stairs, in time to see a young boy throw himself from the roof.

A computer screen open to a file titled ‘X-24’, followed by a series of disembodied limbs, floating in blue tanks.

Then, men - Reavers - were grabbing the children, and pulling them out of their rooms. Pierce appeared, zapping a child with a metal rod before dragging their unconscious body into a lab room.

“We are going to save as many children as we can," Gabriela continued, voice choked with emotion. "I read about a place up North. A place for mutants. They call it Eden.”

Then the video changed, and the kids were running down the halls, accompanied by Gabriela and a few of the other nurses. Escaping.

“If you’re watching this,” Gabriela said, now addressing the camera from what looked to be a motel room, “it means that I am dead.” Her dark, soulful eyes filled with tears, matching the tears now streaming down your own cheeks. “I am not sure if any other children survived. We were separated.”

You were breathing hard, and you lowered the phone shakily to your bed as the recording neared its end.

“Please,” Gabriela’s voice finished. The voice of a dead woman. “Take her to safety.”

Then the video shut off, returning you to the phone's black camera screen, and leaving your room in darkness.

Your chest rose and fell erratically as if you’d just sprinted a mile, and it felt like there was a vice gripping your stomach, making it hard to breathe. You rose from the bed and walked desperately to the window, then back to your bed, pacing.

“Fuck.” The images from the video flashed through your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!”

You crossed to your door and threw it open, not knowing where your feet were taking you – only that you needed air. This building felt different, now that you’d seen what had gone on here. The pain. The fucking torture, and all the other things you could barely comprehend. Your bare feet slapped the cold floor - you'd not bothered with shoes in your rush - and you took the stairs at the end of the hall two at a time, ignoring the strain on your still-healing shoulder and legs.

You burst out onto the lab's roof as your vision blurred with tears, and gasped for breath. The night was warm outside, and the sounds of the city - dogs barking, distant music playing, and far-off sirens - rushed in around you, replacing the eerie silence of the compound.The sharp gravel of the rooftop bit into your bare feet, but you barely felt it. You put a hand to your stomach, fighting off a wave of nausea as you leaned against the cement wall to your left.

You’d known Transigen were evil. But – that? That was fucking insane.

You leaned your head back against the wall and took a few steadying breaths, trying to process it all.

Far below you, a car door slammed, and loud laughter echoed through the lab's concrete yard. You walked slowly to the edge of the roof and looked down, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you spotted a group of men exiting a dark truck stationed in front of Transigen’s main entrance. A blond head swung from the truck’s cab, and your stomach tightened as you recognized Pierce's tall form. He handed off a black case to another man who carried it inside, and turned to grab something else from the truck.

The image of him dragging an unconscious child across the floor of one of the labs flashed before your eyes, and before you knew what you were doing, you’d stepped off the edge of the roof, curving your wings in sharply for a quick descent. The rush of air pulled at your sore shoulder, but you ignored it, landing soundlessly on the pavement before the vehicle. Your chest heaved as you stared at the men encircling the truck. Then men who’d tortured Laura. Who’d tried to put the mutant kids to death as soon as they no longer served a purpose to the lab.

Pierce was turned away from you, but his head cocked slightly to the side when your bare feet landed on the pavement, as if he’d heard some minute noise behind him. That was the only warning you had before he’d pulled his gun from its holster and swung it around to aim it at your head, almost quicker than you could blink.

Then his eyes found your face, and wings, and a grin spread across his face.

“Well hey there, sweetheart!” He said, returning his gun to its holster and leaning back against the SUV. He wore a sleeveless black shirt above his fatigues, suited to the warm night, and it showed off his muscle-corded arms and the skull tattoo on his neck. The men nearby turned to see what was going on, and quickly caught sight of you standing in the darkness down the walkway. Some stared at you coldly, while others jostled each other, chuckling at unheard jokes.

“Finally come to join your pals?” Pierce asked, a glint in his eye. “Get a little team bonding in?”

But you weren’t in the mood for banter, tonight.

“Transigen made the mutant kids?” You spat, staring at him as your skin prickled with hatred. “This fucking place made them, locked them up, and tortured them, until you decided to kill them?”

The men behind Pierce quieted, and some lab worker who’d been on his way in through the automatic doors paused to glance your way, eyes wide.

Pierce showed no signs of surprise at your outburst, but his eyes grew cold as he tilted his head slowly to one side, examining you. He took in your messy hair, bare feet, and the dark shorts and t-shirt you slept in, before his gaze rose back to your face. “Who you been talking to?” He asked, deceptively casual.

You choked out a harsh laugh. “As if I’d fucking tell you.”

He raised a brow, and snorted incredulously. “For the sake of your little friends, baby, I’d suggest you do,” he drawled. “Otherwise–” he opened a hand helplessly, “who can say what’ll happen to ‘em.” His grin faded, and his eyes glinted with predatory delight beneath a veil of mock regret. “As you know, we really got no issue killing what needs to die.”

Your skin prickled as you held his gaze. Because just like that, you were reminded of the violence simmering beneath the surface of this place. And how easily they could take everything away from you, while you remained a prisoner here in all but name. You ground your jaw, wishing that you’d restrained yourself from hopping down here and confronting Pierce with what you’d learned so quickly, because now, of course, he was suspicious about how you you’d figured it out.

“Laura mentioned being at a lab, but I didn’t put the pieces together till now,” you replied, crossing your arms before you and glancing away as you fabricated an excuse. You couldn't let Pierce find out about Gabriela’s phone, or they’d find the messages between you and Laura. And then you’d lose the only mode of contact you had with her and the others. “I thought she’d just been kidnapped and brought to the lab,” you continued, staring rigidly away at the fence surrounding Transigen. “But if she had Logan’s DNA, then it must’ve meant that someone engineered her. And tested the Adamantium on her. And if you did that to her…” you finished, motioning with a hand to express that you’d extrapolated the rest.

Pierce scrutinized you for a moment, then his mouth curved in a slight smile. “Hm,” he grunted. You couldn’t tell if he believed you or not, but he leaned back against the SUV, and waved at the Reavers who’d gathered to watch the little scene play out, motioning for them to continue on their way. Some chuckled as they turned away, shooting you cold smiles before walking off towards the parking lot or turning to grab things from the truck’s trunk.

“Well, great powers of deduction, darlin'," Pierce said, raising something to his lips – a vape – and taking a pull. “But you always knew what you were signing up for. Ain’t no use getting cold feet now.”

Your breathing had gradually slowed, but rage and disgust were still warring with disbelief inside you. But below that, yes; there was also a grim lack of surprise. Of course you knew what Alkali-Transigen was capable of. They’d been hunting mutants to either kill or experiment on for the past 25 years – and if they’d found a way to make mutants of their own, of course they’d be lab rats. But you just couldn’t reconcile that idea with Laura and her friends.

Laura, lying on the surgery table, amidst all that blood.

“Sure, Pierce,” you replied sardonically, your nausea slowly giving way to fatigue. “Of fucking course I shouldn’t be surprised that you like killing kids. I’ve truly never hoped hell exists quite this much,” you added, pitching your voice to reach the receding Reavers. “Cause you fucking monsters will have reserved seating.”

One of them turned to shoot you a smile, waggling his fingers mockingly as he disappeared around the corner, and Pierce sighed, pushing up from where he leaned against the SUV.

“C’mon now, honey,” he said, walking towards you. “Ain’t no such thing as monsters. Just people willing to get things done, and people who ain’t.”

You stared at him in disgust as he approached, while the Reavers’ truck pulled away behind him, leaving the sidewalk outside the lab’s main entrance empty.

“That’s a great line of bullshit you got going there,” you replied tiredly. “Write a fucking book.”

He came to a halt beside where you stood, and gazed skyward, taking another pull from his vape. “I know you don’t get it, sweetheart,” he replied. “You’re soft. Thing is, if we hadn’t done those experiments, someone else would have. And then they’d be getting the big bucks when all of this pays off.” He glanced down at you, unfazed. “See? It’s all just choices.” And as always, his smooth drawl was like warm water on your skin, working to soothe you into believing that he was right. That this was what the world was, and there was no way around it. “You either choose to win,” he finished, “or you’re alright with losin’.”

You rolled his words over in your head, and snorted derisively. But one phrase stuck in your mind, catching your attention through your fatigue. When all of this pays off. So there was a master plan behind the experimentation. Some kind of goal Transigen had, that they knew would pay off big time.

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you replied, too tired to come up with a better insult. It was simply the truth. The revelations of the night had left you drained, and your rage and horror were quickly fizzling into numb disgust.

“Mm,” Pierce hummed in agreement, nonplussed. “Tellin’ me that ain’t what you're into?” He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “Cause the other night, it seemed to me like –”

“Shut–” you said, turning sharply as you cut him off, “–the fuck up. I was dizzy and fucking injured.” And you were currently in no mood to discuss the other night. You may have decided this afternoon that fucking Pierce for info was a good idea, but that was before seeing taser a fucking child. Though on the one hand, you now wanted to know Transigen’s dirt even more badly. Cause there was clearly a lot of it.

Pierce chuckled at your evasion. “Guess that means I’ll have to kick things off this time,” he shrugged, sighing. Before you'd registered his intent, he was moving towards you, forcing you back against the compound’s cement wall. You glanced up at him in shock, but he only smirked as he snaked an arm around your waist. Then his lips were pressing hotly against yours.

What the fuck, you thought, hands rising to press against his chest, uncertain of whether to push him off. But all thought fled from your mind as he kissed you hard, hungrily, and when you gasped in surprise, you felt him smile against you. And you were breathing in his scent – fucking vape smoke, and sweat, and cologne – and it was disgusting, and intoxicating.

You couldn’t decide if you wanted this, but he pressed you back into the wall, forcing your hands out from between the two of you. You steadied yourself against the wall with one hand, and when you wrapped the other around his waist, he pulled you against him, wrapping his cold cybernetic hand around the back of your neck. Stick to the plan? You thought frantically. Seduce him and see what he lets slip? Or go back to my room and process what the fuck I found out today like a sane person?

Pierce’s hot weight against you made it hard to concentrate on any thoughts, though, and he grew bolder, his human hand sliding under your shirt and up your back, sending shivers racing through you. Finally, you leaned your head back against the wall as his hand slid down to grasp your hip, and gave in to the sensations.

Ah, fuck it.

Pierce felt the tension leave you, and bent his head to trail his tongue up your exposed neck, exhaling in satisfaction. You shivered at the tingling sensation of his breath on your neck, and pulled him closer, winding your fingers through his hair. Then he took your chin in his cold metal hand, and forced your mouth back to his. His tongue parted your lips, and quested deeper.

Dizziness washed over you, and you inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath. His breath hot against your cheek, and smelled of beer and minty vape smoke. “Mm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gaze down at you. “Now this is better, ain’t it?”

You met his gaze, breathing hard. “Better than trying to hold a conversation with you,” you shot back with mock sweetness. Pierce grinned, and returned his metal hand to the back of your neck, grip tightening. Then his mouth was back on yours, stealing the breath from you.

Admittedly, it had been a while since you’d been with anyone, but this felt fucking intense in a way you weren’t used to. Probably the constant threat of imprisonment and death, you reasoned. One hell of a kink.

Your skin buzzed in the warm night air, and all focus was lost to the inebriating press of his body against yours. His hips pressed into yours, and he slid a knee upward, parting your legs. You inhaled sharply, and he moved his hands down to the backs of your thighs, preparing to hoist your legs up around him.

But then the doors to the lab whooshed open a few yards to your left, and someone made a startled noise. Whoever they were immediately hurried away towards the parking lot, accompanied by the blip of a pager. But their reaction pulled you back to reality.

And it turned out that while you wanted to be a no-fucks-to-give secret agent who slept with the enemy and stole their secrets in the process, fucking a murderer less than an hour after watching him torture children, and learning that the company he – and now you – worked for had created and experimented on them, felt a bit too icky.

Alright, you sighed internally, so it's gonna to be a 'go back to my room and process what the fuck I found out today like a sane person' kind of night. Bummer. But the murderer in question would undoubtedly still be here tomorrow, and more than willing to continue carrying out your plan.

“Alright cowboy,” you said, pushing up from the wall and forcing your way to the side, extricating yourself from his grasp. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Pierce scoffed, turning his shoulder to lean against the wall as he watched you go. “Really? You ain’t sticking around?” He called, then snorted in laughter. “I don’t know what the fuck kind of game you’re playin’, baby."

You flipped him off as you walked away, disappearing past the sliding doors and back into the cold air of the lab. But yeah, you thought, your exhaustion returning in a wave as the hot adrenaline began fading from your limbs. That makes two of us.

Taglist:

@humongousgalaxycoffee @drowningnikki @mischiefmanaged71 @lostcause514 @capvengrs @forever-nerd @pancakesandlolliepops @kingredking @gremlinfuck @marvel-at-my-obsession @padawansubscription @rebeccaofrivia @toobsock

#fanfic #donald pierce #donald pierce x reader #boyd holbrook #donald pierce x you #enemies to lovers

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