#like i know that weight isn’t gonna stay off & i’ll gain a pound or two when i break the fast

[redkidblues]

i think i may have hit a weight loss plateau? not sure though

#ive been fasting for three days but i have been weighing in at 153 the whole time #usually i lose a couple lbs a day during a fast #like i know that weight isn’t gonna stay off & i’ll gain a pound or two when i break the fast #but like. still. normally i’ll lose something every day

[chubbology]

Getting Big

prompt: someone discovering they're a feeder as their feedee partner gets bigger

Sometimes you’re both in bed, distracted and ignoring each other on your phones or laptops, when you notice. Your eyes lift from your phone and notice your partner’s relaxed belly, rising and lowering with calm breath, stretching the fabric of their shirt. Really stretching it now, not just with every inhale, but by default. Not just pushing the seams a little with chubbier hips, but forcing the cotton to bow out close to its limit, forcing the stitching to cave into a belly button deeper and softer-looking than you remember. And your eyes inevitably take in the rest: thicker thighs, more shapely chest, less defined arms, softer jawline.  

You’re aware that your partner’s gained a little weight. More than a little, but it’s fine. Probably thirty or so pounds, not a big deal, and you absolutely don’t judge them for it. Have they mentioned it at all? No, they just keep tugging at their shirts and pants. And underwear. Their underwear is getting too small for them, with weight gain making them a bit of a pear and all, but you don’t say anything. You don’t say they need bigger underwear. You don’t tell them how much you appreciate the fact that they need it. As long as they stay mum on the subject of their weight and the fit of their clothes, so will you; that’s your rule.

Sometimes you’re both in bed, watching TV, and they’re eating their way to the bottom of a quart of appallingly flavored ice cream (super-caramel-quadruple chocolate-chunk type stuff), and you keep sneaking glances. Because you’re amazed they’re comfortable enough around you to eat freely like this—or so you tell yourself. Their eyes are so glazed with distracted pleasure that maybe it didn’t even occur to them not to gorge themselves tonight, right in front of you.

Not gorging themselves like some kind of pig—no, it’s just, you both ordered a lot of takeout just a couple hours ago, and then they snacked on chips for a while, and then there was that candy bar they ate on a whim while you took out the trash, and now it’s a whole quart of ice cream. A whole quart. The more glances you sneak at them, the more you notice how their budding second chin peeks out when they chew. The more you notice that their bites seem hasty, as if tinged by some kind of distant, unconscious desperation.

You lean against them as if too tired to stay upright, reaching over them casually, letting one arm rest against their belly. It’s soft. It’s bigger. Not a big deal at all, you tell yourself for the millionth time.

And yet, you ponder their weight more. You’ve been pondering it incessantly. You can’t stop thinking about how they went to the mall two weeks ago without telling you, bought clothes a size up, and already were uncomfortably tugging and pulling on on every tight band and seam again. You can’t stop your thoughts from wandering to the idea of them sizing up again any more than your partner can stop their hands from opening another package of cookies.

“Ugh, this stuff is so good,” they mutter, swallowing the last bite, then closing the lid on the carton and setting it aside.

“Mm. I’ll buy more then,” you say without thinking. It’s fine if they size up again, after all. You’ll love them no matter their body type. Their happiness comes first. “I’m going to the grocery store anyway.”

A couple months later, going to the grocery store is not a chore to you, but a fun outing. You never used to even go down the junk food isles if you were by yourself, but now you scour them carefully. You place things in the cart you know your partner will like, and consider new brands and products they might like to try. It’s all so colorful and thrilling to actually buy. You tell yourself you might even try some of it and ignore the intrusive thought of your partner sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night again to binge on half the goodies themselves.

What niggles at you isn’t that you’re buying way too much junk food for your partner, who’s a little overweight now. It’s not as if they’ve told you to stop, or have implied they want to lose weight, or have said anything about any of it at all. That’s the thing: you’re in uncharted waters, and they haven’t told you a word about whether they fine with the way the tide was turning or whether they were actually really concerned that they were getting heavy and a little jiggly and they didn’t know what to do about it, let alone have the wherewithal to say, Honey, stop buying junk food. I’m getting fat.

Just the thought of the word makes you blush at the box of Fudge Covered Twinkies you’re holding. You quickly set them back on the shelf. Twinkies were practically the poster food for getting fat, right? Surely, your partner would suspect something, even though there wasn’t anything to suspect. You just know that they like food, particularly food that’s soft and sugary and addictive, and what better, cheaper food to comfort them with than Twinkies? No, it wouldn’t be good for their waistline, but you can already see their eyes fluttering closed at the taste—which was probably not even good, but that was hardly the point, was it?

Compromising, you buy a limited edition blue-stuffed brand of Twinkies instead, preparing an excuse that you thought the novelty of it was amusing and wondered if it was good.

But later that night, your partner eats six of them while you play video games and doesn’t mention the novelty of it at all. Your character dies stupidly and your partner laughs at you, belly jiggling as they do. You swallow, eyes fixating on their fat thighs. There’s no other word for them—they’re fat. Their thighs have gotten fat, just like their belly got fat, just like their hips and chest and arms and even their neck and face has been rounding out with so much chub. They were fat and they did eat like a pig, and all signs pointed to more weight gain. They were going to keep gaining weight, and when was it going to stop? When you finally decided enough was enough? When their doctor told them to take control? Yeah, so, you could imagine them awkwardly saying, coming home from the doctor, I guess I gotta lose weight. Maybe they would be holding a pamphlet on obesity or something, looking ashamed.

And maybe they would try at first. You would help. They’d exercise a little here and there, maybe only eat one Twinkie instead of six, maybe not ask for takeout so often. But it wouldn’t last. The second their will broke, yours would too. And you’d both be in bed, distracted by nothing but endless waves of pleasure that your sex life hadn’t known in a while, them leaning back against the headboard, eating every fattening thing you had to offer, which would be many, many, as many fattening things as they’d agree to swallow down like they glutton they were becoming.

“Babe?”

You blink.

“You okay?” they say with that chubby face of theirs, a face that said, I’ve been gaining so much weight, and you’re really aroused.

“I’m glad you like those,” you stutter. You look at the Twinkies box, and so do they. Your mouth keeps moving without forethought. “I’ll buy you more next time. Any other flavors you like?” You set down your controller and push your hand into their hair affectionately. Since they’re slouched, they look up at you, and you lower your hand to the back of their neck, touching the bulge of the fat there. “Want me to get you your favorite ice cream? I know you had a long day at work.” You stand and head for the kitchen, ignoring your partner’s confused ums and wells.

You open the freezer and get one of many ice cream quarts. Thanks to you, the fridge and freezer have been stuffed to the gills with crap, but you can’t regret it, not when it makes your partner look perpetually stuffed to the gills too. You get a spoon and sit down next to them again, brain fuzzy with want. “You’ll feel better when you finish this. By the time you do, I’ll finally finish this damn level.”

“I’m—I’m not…” But the look in their eyes is conflicted. “I’m not that hungry, really.”

You laugh. Your body is buzzing. “Please. With you, when you eat and when you’re hungry are completely unrelated. Let’s make it a competition! Finish before I do. Go!”

“What?”

You’re already starting the level over, thinking to yourself What the hell? Don’t make them eat if they don’t want to. Even if they do want to, even when they’re full, because they’re greedy and addicted, gonna get obese soon—

A minute passes, and they’re sitting up, belly folded in rolls on their lap, looking poised to either stand up and put the ice cream away or rip the lid off and devour it all.

“Eat it,” you say innocently, or try to. It mostly comes out like a pathetic attempt at sounding not-horny.

You glance over, and they still look conflicted, so you lean over and kiss them on their tubby cheek. “Go ahead,” you say, quieter. You meet their eyes. “Don’t you want to?”

They look taken aback now, flushed. All at once, they seem aware of their blubbery, overweight body, and they shift on the couch. You forget the game and lean in again, kissing them on the lips, then deeper as they lean into you. “I know you want to,” you whisper. You cup their fattened hip, squeeze it gently. “I bet you really want to.”

They’re blushing really hard now, gone shy and speechless. So you move closer to them, and since their head is lowered to avoid your eyes, you land a sweet peck on their bulging second chin. Then you peel off the lid of the carton, tear the plastic off, and push the spoon satisfyingly into the over-processed sugar that has been fattening your partner out of their clothes so well.

Despite their air of reluctance, they eat the spoonful you offer as if on instinct. They squirm with pleasure, and your breath hitches when their plump hand twitches out to take the spoon away from you when you don’t use it quick enough. You scoop them another bite. Then another. The room is quiet except for the game in the background and your rapidly beating heart. Their eyelids lower, and you murmur encouraging words to them. That’s it. It’s good, huh? Big bite... The experience seems no less momentous to them than to you, and so you keep going. Their eyes drift shut and so you guide their mouth to open at the right times. Eventually, your cooing gets bolder.

“I know how much you like this. Like eating. Eating a little too much.”

Their mouth pauses around the spoon, but their eyes don’t open. They swallow and wait for the next bite.

“And I know you get up in the middle of the night sometimes, just to eat,” you say. “Eat and eat until your clothes feel tight and your stomach’s queasy, right? You always come back to bed so uncomfortable, tossing and turning, panting a little. Holding back little burps. I wake up and all the junk food I bought is gone.”

Your partner leans into to your next spoonful, then takes it from you. Without meeting your eyes, they start eating from the tub themselves, at twice your pace. You smooth your fingers through their hair. Then rub a hand down their arm, which was now sausage-like with so much fat clinging to it. But it’s squishy, when you pinch it. No firmness anywhere you can see.

“I’m sure you know you’re getting big, baby. You’re getting big. But that’s okay.” You rub your hands over their belly, their hips, their rolls of back fat. “You just keep eating as much as you like.”

And after another pause, they nod.

#weight gain #fic #askbox prompts #genderless #reader feeder #nonbinary gainer

[thatgirlsnotrightinthebrain]

“Babe, what have you done to me?” You turn to see her reclining on the sofa, eyes closed in a t-shirt and shorts two sizes too small, her belly hanging out, being caressed by her hands. God, she’s gorgeous. You take note of the take out containers, fast food bags, and pizza boxes piled around her; the dozen empty cans of soda arranged neatly on the floor to her right. You smirk. “Babe, what do you mean what have I done to you?” “I’m so fat now,” she whines, grabbing the upper roll of her belly. She can barely fit her hand around the amount of blubber there. “You feed me too much.” A burp escapes her mouth. “I used to be fit before I moved in with you.” She isn’t wrong. When you first met three years ago, she was a professional dancer; strong, slim, and flexible. She moved with ease. Now just a year and a half after moving in with you, she was three times her original size. She was so out of shape she would get out of breath climbing the stairs to the bedroom. And you barely had to lift a finger. All it took was some simple changes to her diet (caused instantly by her moving in with you) and a sprained ankle she sustained after she gained her first 20 pounds. She went from celery, hummus, salads, grilled chicken, water, fruit to chips, queso, stir-fry, fried chicken, orange soda, and cakes... Once the sprain happened, fast food, takeout, and delivery was introduced. The portions of her three square meals and dessert grew in size, just like her. By the time her ankle healed, she was 40 pounds bigger than when she sprained it. She went back to audition and was  deemed “too big” by the casting directors of the three shows she tried out for. If she was being honest, she had lost a decent amount of flexibility - splits that had taken no effort were now impossible. She could barely lift legs to her waist. She had thought that was her wake up call, her sign to get back into the swing of things before her injury, so she had tried to lose some weight. She found herself out of breath during her workouts almost immediately, but she stayed strong and finished them. However, burning all those calories made her ravenous, and her old dancer diet could not fill her. She ate the right portions, she ate the right things, but her stomach growled no matter how many vegetables and lean proteins she ate...Eventually those servings increased, but still, she’d feel hunger. Her cravings for grease, cheese, carbs, and sweets didn’t relent, so eventually her willpower caved. She had only lasted a week before she had eaten an entire pizza for lunch and a two pound box of bakery cookies as a “snack”. She continued to work out, but her cravings got the best of her and she ended up gaining even more weight.  Depressed that she had gained another twenty pounds in her efforts to lose it,  she ate even more and put on even more blubber. No one wanted her to dance anymore, so why bother trying to get fit? And you were right there, getting more and more food, leaving it around the house, making bigger and bigger portions of all the most fattening things, occasionally feeding her when she would ask, but mostly just watching her stuff her face, trying to fill the hole inside. You glanced at her, beached on the sofa. You walked over and grabbed her belly, gave it a jiggle. “How is this my fault, love?” She glared up at you over her swollen belly, pouting, her double chin clearly visible. “You made me eat all that unhealthy stuff when I moved in. It was all we had around. And then there was just more and more of it.” “I didn’t tell you to eat it, or to eat as much as you did. You enjoyed it, so you ate.” “Yeah... but you didn’t stop me either,” she complained. “It’s almost as if you wanted this to happen to me.” You did enjoy seeing her get bigger and lazier, her capacity increase... but you didn’t make this happen. You hated seeing her sad, and the food seemed to make her happy. “Hey... You’re beautiful. What are you talking about? I just want you to be happy.” You sit down next to her and look her dead in the eye.  “How can I be happy when I look like a blimp? How can you think I’m beautiful when I look like this?” She said, motioning towards her body. “I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been, I can’t stop eating because I’m addicted to food, hungry all the time, there’s just so much of it around, it tastes so good... and... I don’t think I can stop... I don’t think I’ll ever dance again if I keep going at this rate.” “Honey, none of that matters to me. I still think you’re incredible and gorgeous no matter what! So what if you’ve put on some weight? If you’re hungry, you should eat. If you want to dance, I’m sure you could get up and move around...” “But it’s not the same! I’m not as flexible! It’s not like I can jump and turn, and move the way I used to...” “But you can still move.” “For how long? I’m already over 360 pounds!” she exclaimed. This caught you off-guard. “Over 360 pounds?” You ask, eyebrows raising. “I got on the scale this morning... The scale I never thought I’d need when I moved in. I’m 367 pounds. 367!” “I had no idea you had... grown that much,” you say, trying to hide how turned on you are. “But you know your worth is not tied to a number on the scale, your size, or your physical ability, right?” She doesn’t answer. “Right?” You repeat. “I just feel like I’m letting you down. I let myself go so badly and even when I tried to get a handle on it, it backfired. I got even bigger.” “You could never let me down, babe. I think you’re perfect no matter what.” You kiss her forehead. “Honestly... I love you.” You grab her belly. “And this is just gravy.” “You like me like this?” She asks, looking you dead in the eye, completely serious, needing to know your answer.  “Yes. Like this. Smaller, bigger, it doesn’t matter because I love you... But I am pretty fond of your body at the moment.” She sits up suddenly, couch groaning with the shift of her weight and looks at you, confusion crossing her face. “You like me fat?” “Yes. But I want you to be happy. If you’d be happier weighing less, I’ll help you get there.” She bites her lip and looks down, thinking. Her belly is in her lap, rising and falling with each breath. Her love handles are emphasized by her too-tight shorts. You want to grab her belly again, but you know now is not the time. Almost as if her belly has gained sentience and can read your mind, it growls, loudly, despite the evidence she’s done nothing but eat all day. At first she is surprised, but then she looks at you shyly... “Y’know... before you mentioned gravy... Maybe some biscuits and gravy for now, and I’ll decide what I want to do later...” You nod and raise yourself from the sofa, brushing her belly along the way. “You got it, babe.” When you’re in the doorway of the kitchen, you hear her call after you, just as shy - “And maybe some chicken wings too?” “Sure thing!” You smile to yourself, knowing that if her hunger has this much influence over her, she’s only gonna blow up more. 

#weight gain #closet feeder #growing belly #getting bigger

[rebellconquerer]

oooh, could we get 9 (you're in love with her) for the prompt meme. bucky and sam talking about sarah?

Here you go Anon, angst and feels. Will be crossposted to AO3. Technically a missing scene from In The Woods Somewhere, it'll be a little confusing if you haven't read that. Also it's a bit long.

Sam is worried. He’s trying very hard to hide it as he saunters down the gleaming walkway that leads to the Wakandan apartment they have set Bucky up in for his recuperation, but the fact remains that he is just a bit…worried.

The after had been worse than he expected. After Sarah had left, after Shuri had figured out the deprogramming, after they had started the process. He'll be honest, he hadn't been around much the first time. A mix of him not really knowing or trusting Bucky when this happened before (and vice versa), combined with Steve's almost obsessive need to shelter and protect Bucky then.

Still, the deprogramming had gone about as well as could be expected and Sam had remained with Buck until midway through the first week when major cities across Europe had started to be attacked by some weird environmental monsters. Hill, and then Fury himself, had reached out to say that the kid, Spiderman or whatever, had the situation under control and that they would call in reinforcements if they needed it. So Sam had stayed with Bucky for the first couple of days after the deprogramming as they were testing it to make sure it took, then some tv nutjob had leaked the kid's name.

Very few of the Avengers bothered with secret identities, but the kid was like 15 or something, so Hill had requested Captain America come help out with PR, ensuring that no one believed a teenager could be one of the Avengers.

Sam had said no initially, obviously, but Bucky had insisted he was fine and didn't need a babysitter. Had even managed to say it without that crazed, trapped animal look behind his eyes he got sometimes, so Sam had jetted off to New York for a few days. He had gotten exactly two texts from Bucky during that time. One that said 'I'm fine, mom' on day one and a thumbs-up emoji on day three.

Then Sarah had called him, trying to be all relaxed and casual as she fished for what the hell was going on in Wakanda cause Bucky hadn't spoken to her or responded to her since she left. As ancient as the dinosaurs though Buck may be, he damn well knows how to use a phone, and him deliberately cutting himself off is… concerning.

He comes to the right apartment number and knocks, then waits, then knocks again. Still no response. Sam frowns. He knows he's in there. Shuri told him they've still been monitoring his vitals and that he had requested a bit of time to himself in the aftermath, but he wasn't in the clear yet so she knew where he was.

Sam pounds on the door again.

"Buck, it's me. You gonna open up?"

Silence.

"Ok, Bucky, here's the thing, you either let me in or I'm calling Ayo or Shuri to override this lock… come on, man. Please." Sam whispers at the door, knowing Bucky's advanced hearing will pick it up.

He doesn't want to call in reinforcements and doesn't want to invade Bucky's space if it's not necessary, but as he mentioned before, he's worried.

He waits for one, then another overly long minute before the door finally opens.

Bucky looks like shit. His hair is messy and greasy. His blue eyes stand out as bright spots in the pallor of his face, broken only by the intense, almost bruise-like dark circles under his eyes. His cheekbones don't stand out as much as they did when Sam left so at least he was gaining back the weight he had lost, but he's standing with a blanket around his shoulders, hunched in and holding himself like the feral creature he hasn't been in years.

"Buck?-"

"You wanted to see me, you've seen me. Can you go now?" Bucky says flatly, eyes glinting with the acerbic 'fuck off' his lips haven't yet formed.

Oh hell no.

Sam slips his foot in the door just as Bucky goes to close it, preventing it from shutting. When Bucky pulls the door back open, Sam slips inside, pushing past Buck as quickly as he can.

Bucky growls, closing the door behind him and turning a glare on Sam.

"No please, come in. I'm definitely in the mood for visitors." Bucky says sarcastically.

Sam glances around the room. It's a lot like the first apartment they all stayed in together. Floor to ceiling windows cover one whole wall, the kitchen is immaculate, clearly unused, like most of the rest of the space, save for the couch where the cushions have been left haphazardly on the floor.

"Buck. What the hell is going on here?" Sam asks, voice coming out much softer than he intended. Bucky'd been in rough shape when he left, but he had been clearly on the mend. That was the only reason Sam'd even agreed to go help out.

"Nothing. I'm fine. I don't need you here." Bucky grits out, that muscle in his jaw flexing.

Sam stares for a minute then sighs. He's starting to get it, the lines of pain that seemed to carve through Steve whenever Bucky had pushed him away. It's hard for Sam to see the desperate way Bucky is holding himself while still pulling away, and Sam hasn't been his lifelong best friend.

"Look Buck, you're entitled to a couple bad days, but I'm going to need you to convince me that this is a par for the course breakdown and not something worse 'cause we've had a monumentally rough couple of weeks," Sam says clearly.

Bucky holds his gaze for a long moment before the harsh lines of his face seem to soften and he ducks around Sam, heading back to the couch.

"Like I told you, I'm fine." He mutters as he moves. "It's just… the come down from the deprogramming is a bitch, ok?"

Sam frowns, following him to the couch and sitting next to him.

"Would you like to elaborate, Buck?"

Bucky sighs, scrubbing both hands through his messy hair.

"Best as I understand it, it's like coming down from a high or something. There are a lot of biochemicals involved in the process and the washout… well it sucks." He shrugs. "Plus the process itself is like opening Pandora's box up here," he mutters, tapping the side of his head. "It leaves me… what I mean is it makes me-"

"Your nightmares get worse." Sam finishes for him. Bucky doesn't look up, doesn't say or do anything really.

Sam huffs. "Why didn't Shuri tell me? I expect this bullshit from you, but from her?"

Bucky goes very still, continuing to avoid eye contact. It finally clicks.

"She doesn't know, does she? You never said and… neither did Steve. That's why the two of you were hold up on that little farm for so long after. For god sake, why the hell didn't you say anything Buck?"

Sam doesn't try to hold back the frustration bleeding into his voice.

"That child has more than enough of my pain on her hands. She doesn't need any more. And I'll remind you… I never expected to have to do this again." Bucky finishes softly. Sam's anger deflates as suddenly as it started.

They sit in silence for a minute, Sam watching Bucky, Bucky pretending that Sam isn't watching him until Sam finally breaks.

"Is this why you haven't spoken to Sarah? She called me, you know, said you'd been ducking her calls."

Bucky's expression changes minutely then and if Sam hadn't known him as well as he does, if they hadn't been basically living in each other's pockets for the last year, he wouldn't have recognized it: a quick flash of guilt.

"Buck, what's going on in that head of yours?" Sam asks seriously. "Didn't I tell you if you break her heart I'd break your legs?"

Bucky huffs out a bitter laugh. "Actually the last I heard on the matter you said you'd kill me if I hurt her but we'd be ok. Way to send mixed messages by the way buddy."

Sam can't sit still any longer. This whole experience is surreal. God, he needs a vacation. He strolls over to the kitchen, filling a glass with water for himself and another for Buck. He places the second glass in front of Bucky and backs up to lean on the counter, careful not to hover.

He takes a long drink, draining half the glass in one go as Bucky just stares at his.

“How was New York?” Bucky eventually asks.

Sam shrugs. “Went okay. No one is quite ready to call Captain America a liar to his face, even that piece of shit blowhard.”

That earns him a small smile from Bucky. “You think it’ll hold?”

“Well, they’ve got Pepper, Rhodey, Hill and Fury against them. I’m not sure much could stand up to that team long term so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Sam replies. Bucky isn't going to succeed in changing the topic, but maybe going the long way around will help.

They drop back into the silence. “I think Shuri is gonna let me go in a few days. The deprogramming seems to be holding.” Bucky finally says, still staring unblinkingly at his water.

Sam sighs. “You ready to come back to Delacroix?”

Bucky makes an uncomfortable-looking face, a strange cross between constipated and in pain. “I-I was actually going to go back to New York. Haven’t been home in a while, you know,” he says carefully.

Sam frowns.

“Alright Barnes, cut the crap. My nephews have been worried about you, Sarah is worried about you. What are you thinking-”

“I’m thinking that maybe this is the time to let it… let it die.” Bucky interrupts, eyes flicking up to Sam, a hard look on his face.

Sam just stands there, gaping at him for a minute.“The fuck do you mean, let it die?”

That unearthly stillness that Bucky usually carries in his frame starts to fray. He stands up, pacing to the window. “Sarah and I had a fight the night before I agreed to let Shuri do the deprogramming,” he says, then just leaves the sentence hanging.

“Yeah, the whole goddamn world could have guessed that." Sam prompts. "You’re stubborn as hell. If she got you to reconsider it wasn’t with sweet nothings whispered into your ear.”

Sam watches the tips of Bucky’s ears go a little bit red as he ducks his head at that. He really doesn’t want to know any details about whatever memory that triggered. Bucky still doesn't continue.

“So what, are you angry with her?” Sam asks.

“What? No! Of Course not!" Bucky responds, turning to face him. He still looks weary and a little… lost.

"She said… she said she didn't think I wanted this life. That I hadn't gotten to choose it and so I was too comfortable throwing it away." Bucky mutters staring at the floor.

Sam frowns in confusion. That was harsh. Probably entirely truthful, but harsh nonetheless. And Sarah said he was tough on Buck.

"Ok…" Sam prompts again.

"She said I needed to think about what I wanted to live for. What future was worth fighting for because without that I'd always be … stuck." Bucky goes quiet again and Sam's frown deepens.

He doesn't get it. Doesn't get what Bucky is trying to tell him. "Ok, so you did that and decided that she isn't in that future?" Sam tries, keeping his voice as flat and without judgment as possible.

Bucky doesn't look at him, just keeps staring at the floor between them, the expression on his face pained. Sam watches him clench and unclench his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping. But still, Bucky says nothing.

It's Sam's turn to pace. He pushes up off the counter, walking closer to Bucky as he rubs at his temple. He's tired and stressed and he's been through too much in the last 3 weeks to play decoder with Bucky and his-

He comes to an abrupt stop beside the couch. The gears in his mind grinding to a halt so suddenly he thinks you should be able to hear them shrieking.

He turns to face Bucky, eyes tracing over the tight lines of his body as astonishment slides in under his skin, under his breastbone, and behind his eyes. How had he not seen it before? How had he not noticed?

“You’re in love with her.” he breathes out, the acknowledgement hitting like a brick. Bucky goes absolutely still as Sam stumbles back a few steps, sitting heavily on the arm of the couch.

“That’s what this is about. You’re in love with her and you’re afraid.”

“Look at me Sam, look at me?!” Bucky's voice is raspy, hollowed out. Sam lifts his gaze and meets Bucky's eyes.

“I’m a mess. On a great day, I’m a fucking mess. Most days I feel like I'm barely holding on to who I am because of what I am. On a bad day?” Bucky looks back out the windows, eyes going unfocused. “I shouldn’t be in love,” he whispers flatly. “What right do I have to get this after all the carnage I have caused. What right do I have to bring someone else into the hell that is my life.” He sighs then and leans back on the window, sliding down the glass to sit on the ground. The movement is slow, achingly so, making him look every one of his 107 years.

Sam slips from the arm of the couch coming to sit on the ground facing Bucky.

“This isn’t you Buck." He whispers. "This is the deprogramming and the night terrors. This is the lack of sleep and bone tiredness talking. This isn't you."

Bucky laughs, the sound empty. "Isn't it? Are you sure about that? Because I'm not."

"The two of you have been going great. You haven't been afraid before now, is this all fallout because of what happened, because Buck, you can't let that asshole Novikov take her from you."

Bucky lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back against the glass and staring at the ceiling, face blank. "Too good. It's been too good." He mutters and the last piece of the puzzle falls into place for Sam.

"She told you, didn't she? She told you she loves you."

Bucky's eyes flick down to his, expression sharp. "She told you what she was going to do?" Bucky asks, suspicion clear in his tone.

Sam shakes his head. "She didn't have to. You forget I've known her a lot longer than you have. I know what my sister looks like when she's in love."

He has one of those moments where he wishes Steve were there because he feels he would know what to say to help. But that's not really true. He'd watched Steve stumble through enough of these conversations to know he would be just as lost. Not that it matters. Steve's gone now. Left them both.

"It was fine when it was just you, right? When you'd be the only one risking anything? But it’s different now you know that she’s as far in as you are.” Sam mutters.

Bucky’s staring at the ceiling again, face blank. “That’s not it. I’m not afraid. I’m just seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time.” he mumbles.

Sam’s lips twist into a rueful smile. Clearly? Bucky hasn’t been this muddled in a year. “You know I almost flunked out of Pararescue training?” Sam asks, trying a different tact.

Bucky looks over at him, frowning confusedly. Sam nods slowly, looking down at his hands.

“I got referred by my prior C.O. Spent 2 days in the air over the course of the first week and decided it was not for me. I mean, it was madness, right? Jumping out of a plane with nothing on but some wings someone else had made?”

Bucky smirks. “That’s real hard to believe, Sam. You’re a natural.”

Sam shakes his head. “Nah, Riley was a natural. Took to the skies like a duck to water.” Sam can still hear the excitement in Riley’s voice after his first jump. How he could barely catch his breath to talk because all he wanted to do was laugh and grin.

“Went back to my C.O. Told him thanks for the recommendation but… I couldn’t do it. He fed me this bullshit story about how some scientist somewhere had done some experiment, right? That they gave a group of people some glasses that flipped the world upside down.” Sam looks up at Bucky to find him staring back at him, blank look retreating, intense blue eyes focussed.

“The first two days everyone was walking around bumping into things, begging to be let out of the experiment, but by the end of the third day, they had all adapted. Their world was normal again. He told me to give it three days, and I did.”

Bucky purses his lips and looks away, letting the meaning of the words sink in.“You realise you’d already been there for more than three days, right? You said it was the end of the first week.”

Sam huffs out a tired laugh. “Man, do you ever get tired of being a pain in the ass?” he asks.

Bucky slips into that small, sad smile he wears so well. “All signs point to no,” he mutters back.

“It’s been a long fucking month, Buck. I’m not saying you’re wrong or you’re right, but… just give yourself a moment to adapt to your new normal before you go making any drastic decisions.”

Bucky doesn’t respond for a while, but then he nods slowly, still refusing to look at Sam.

“And honestly, Buck, no jokes this time. Whatever happens, I’ll still be here. You don’t have to be alone.” Sam says as clearly as he can.

Bucky finally looks back over to him. “Guess Steve was right leaving me to you.”

It’s Sam’s turn to look away, laughing. “Nah. He left us to each other,” he replies easily.

“We’re probably giving the punk too much credit. Like he ever thought ahead in his whole stupid life… but… the same goes for you, you know. I’ll be here as long as you need me, for whatever that counts as.” Bucky says.

Sam looks up at him, their eyes meeting and he can’t help but smile, relaxing the tension a little. “So you love her, huh? You realise she’s just a less pretty version of me. This is tantamount to you declaring your undying love of me.”

Bucky lets out an honest to God laugh. “You ever get tired of being so in love with yourself?” he fires back.

Sam shrugs, pushing himself up off the ground and reaching a hand out for Bucky. He looks at it a moment before he grabs on and Sam pulls him to his feet, wrapping one hand around his shoulder and leading him back to the couch.

“Well honestly, someone has to be.” Sam jokes.

Bucky laughs again

#bucky x sarah #bucky x sarah fic #fleur de louve #barah #sam wilson #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws fic #rebellwrites

[kirstinmaldonado]

Chapter Four 2.0

Is it just me or are the alarming numbers of posts about weight gain or weight loss in this time freaking everyone out? I know I’m not innocent; I’ve definitely joked about my personal quarantine-15 as well, blindingly attempting to hide my own insecurities with it through humor.

But if I see another “Carbie” or changed photo online insinuating weight gain, I might cry.

It’s hard enough trying to “make the most” of your time, even if you’re riddled with it. If you read my last post, you’d think by now I’d be the fit, Spanish-speaking, piano-playing, singer-songwriter that Week 1 Kwarantine Kirstie dreamed of. As we know, I’ve “fallen off.”

But have I? Is this really the age we’re in? Where in a global pandemic we still feel the urge to get a thousand things done in the mere 24 hours we get a day? 

That societal pressures are so prominent that we all joke together about how much weight we’ll gain? And where posts scream at you with side by side pictures of extreme weight loss, expecting you to not only have your life together but lose weight with all this “extra time?”

I digress. I can’t do it all and keep my mental health in check.

People are either finding new or returning to hobbies to distract themselves from what is going on right now, and that’s great. If yours is that home workout, I applaud you!! Keep at it! It’s so good for your mental and physical health, I know I need to be more on top of it! 

If it’s reading a little, spring cleaning, whatever it is that you are able to accomplish, I am proud of you! If you’ve been able to dig in and uncover a goal you’d not been able to achieve before, don’t let this or anything hold you back! I hope to get to that mindset and I feel I am on my way!

But in the meantime, I’ve been baking, and since there’s only two people in the house it’s, y’know, not ideal for the waistline.

But here’s my deal. I’m coping. When I went to the grocery store a few weeks ago and saw empty shelves, I cried and went to the baking aisle to get decorations and proper ingredients for the baking I was planning on doing. My hands have been stained with food color more often than not within just this last week, as I baked for friends’ birthdays in quarantine and for Easter.

And that’s okay! I am adapting.

You know why I stopped baking so much in the first place? I ran out of time. When I’d be home from tour I wanted to relax more than work all night in the kitchen. I wanted to spend quality time enjoying others’ company rather than cleaning pots and pans all night. But I’ve realized now more than ever that baking just brings me this sense of happiness, like I’m sure other things do for you guys.

There’s a rhythm to baking, how you mix it. You can’t rush the process, ‘cause the icing will melt if your treat hasn’t cooled. There’s a sense of calm patience I enjoy that is hard to replicate. And then the decorating taps in to my artistic side, and depending on how I’m feeling I’m either slathering that icing on freely or delicately decorating with pearl accents and made-from-chocolate flourish!

Baking brings me back to Nana’s and Grandma’s kitchens. My favorite thing was baking with them, rolling dough, watching them and learning! As I grew older, got my own place, that feeling of baking and care-taking made me happy. Baked goods always have a lot of love in them, I feel, and is this not a time to put a smile on peoples’ faces? Why not do what I love on Easter and bake a whole cake, a hobby that reminds me of my family that I miss so much and can’t be with?

I don’t want all this to sound like an explanation for my recent eating choices. You’re not my food journal. And even though I’ve dipped away from my goals and feel a little disappointment, I know I was cathartic baking and so accept the consequences of my actions. The point is to recognize and move forward.

I also don’t want this to be like every “how/why not to gain weight in quarantine” post, because I don’t know how to do that.

With all the stress on how this would progress, I don’t blame myself or anyone for freaking out when they saw empty shelves and grabbing the closest thing they could find that has a decent shelf-life (Kraft Mac n Cheese…). The real hurdle here, my point, is just making sure you’re being healthy to yourself.

If you want some red wine, go for it. If you want to treat yourself, okay! These things are all fine in doses as long as you don’t transform your habits from healthy to unhealthy.

I have binged before. I have purged before. I have had the most unhealthy views of my body before. I still battle with it. But within this last year I have gained so much knowledge about how my body operates. I have fed it cleaner food and seen how it’s transformed my mind, body, and spirit. I have worked SO hard and done two a days. It’s not always the easiest, but I spent quality time taking care of myself.

All that to say, my initial 2020 goals were to remain on track and healthy to myself. This is THE year, I thought.

Coronavirus put a…twist on my goals. I haven’t been fussing about the wine I’ve had, or the goodies I’ve made, as I focused more on my mental health. I am glad I let myself just be. It really helped. But it’s mid week five and we have five more weeks ahead of us at least. And as I started looking at myself in the mirror, or flipping through Instagram, I could feel my anxiety creep up again. So I made that dreaded trip to the scale and got out my measuring tape which I’d used before to track progress.

And you know what? I gained inches. I gained weight. 

Did it make me…kinda sad? Yes. I felt disappointed as if all my hard work last year was for naught.

But…I gained weight in a global pandemic.

In the big picture of things, how fortunate am I to have the resources to feed myself. To gain weight. 

All these ads, all the modified pictures which are ACTUALLY kinda fat-shaming, all this panic of gaining weight is so triggering while everyone is just trying to keep relatively afloat. It feels insensitive. I can’t flip through Instagram without seeing people capitalizing on the situation. “Lost 20lbs with this amazing home workout plan and tea” or diets to take care of the “stubborn fat you’ll have” when this ends. It’s toxic for those that battle with eating disorders or body dysmorphia. It’s toxic for those that are just able to get what they can. There’s enough stress already! We are staying inside and at home for a REASON. If you have the luxury to gain a few pounds while you’re safer at home, good for you. Don’t be so hard on yourself as you try to mitigate a PANDEMIC.

I am trying not to be. I am re-adjusting how I’m working out so it fits more in line with my aesthetic goals. We are almost done eating the carrot cake from Easter (yikes, I know, already, it was too good). 

All I hope for myself, and for you all, is that you don’t fall in to unhealthy ways, mentally or physically. It’s a battle, especially in this time, I know! I’ll be the first to say I haven’t been my best. Gaining some pounds isn’t unhealthy itself, but can manifest into bad habits in this isolation like binging or an overall sedentary, unmotivated lifestyle.

If you’re moving, you’re getting a little sun, and you are staying safe and healthy, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t let little personal fluctuations alarm you and derail who you are and what you’ve worked for. The world is fluctuating with you, so you are constantly having to adapt!

I’m going to make a better effort to not coop myself inside, be aware if I’m overdoing the emotionally eating, and feed my body in all the right ways. Mind. Body. Spirit. Besides that, it’s just taking one day at a time.

I hope you all are safe and healthy. I hope you all are still believing and trying your best. <3

#blog 2.0

[vergilthelibrarian]

Second part to whatever this is. I don’t know what to name this story but enjoy ^^

Yandere!MarkLeexMale!reader

CW: A dead body appears and also limbs gets cut off

Moaning, you moved your head around, your eyes slowly blinking open, being met with an orange light.

You hissed as you slowly sat up, your right hand in pain as you used your hands to moved yourself, your back leaning against the headboard of the bed you were on.

Looking around the room, you wondered were you where.

Your ears perked up as you heard footsteps and soon the door to the room opened.

Your eyes widen in fear and you grabbed your patched up right hand, remembering what the young man who had now just entered the room did to you.

“What do you want?” you asked afraid and he sighed.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s you.” he said after he closed the door, putting his hands in his pockets.

Tears began forming in your eyes and soon you started softly sobbing, putting your head in your hands.

You soon felt weight on the bed and a hand rub your back.

You move away from the man who frowned but quickly changed his features to a blank look.

“Please don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry…”

“Then let me go.”

He quickly shook his head.

“No. This is your home now.” his thumb caressed your cheek and you tried to push his hand away and immediately felt a strong grip on your chin and you were forced to look at the man who didn’t look so pleased.

He was silent for a moment and you stopped crying, fear causing your body to shake, whimpering from the tight grip.

The look in his eyes was murderous.

It was something you’ve never seen before and it truly scared you.

His head titled, his breathing shallow as he stared at you.

“You look so beautiful this way...” he breathed out, finally breaking the silence.

Then he blinked a couple of times, shaking his head, falling out of the trance he was in.

“I’m… sorry.” he said, letting go of your chin. “I made breakfast. You should come down to eat before it gets cold.” he said before getting up and exiting the room.

Once you thought he was far enough that he couldn’t hear you, you began crying once more.

~~

Mark shook his head as he leaned back in the couch, his hands covering his face.

Ever since he saw you that fateful day when you walked into his class, he honestly hasn’t been the same since.

You were the new kid and was rather shy just like him but unlike him, you weren’t as awkward and quickly you gained a group of friends.

He would always watch you as you went about your day, wishing he was your friend.

That’s the thing.

Mark just wished he was your friend, nothing more but soon he started developing a crush on you which soon developed into him falling in love with the image he had of you.

He knew how dumb it was, that he was in love with you despite not knowing who you were but that didn’t stop his heart from pounding when your eyes met with his and you smiled brightly, giving him a small wave.

Back then though, he wasn’t stalking you. That started happening once y’all graduated and you ran off to the big city for college while he stayed back to work at his father’s church.

He was pretty sad when you left, crying randomly whenever he thought about you, causing his friends and family to worry about him.

He didn’t tell anyone why he was so depressed, deciding to keep it all to himself. Not even talking about it during confessions.

Mark genuinely didn’t mean to stalk you. He was only curious about how you were doing.

That’s all.

He found you on twitter through a mutual friend and started following you.

You were in your 2nd year of uni, going to school for English. All you did was tweet memes and political causes you were passionate about but there were also times where you would tweet about personal issues you were going through.

That’s how he learned about your family issues, the mental illnesses you had, how lonely and heart broken you were.

Learning about your parents homophobia against you made him so angry. You always looked so happy during high school. Always laughing and having a smile on your face.

But your parents treated you like shit all because you were gay and he understood why you ran off as fast as you did when you two graduated from high school.

Honestly, he wanted to kill your parents as a way to help you feel better but he didn’t know how he could live with himself from taken someone’s life.

Murder was a sin… but he’d do anything to protect you and make you happy.

Anything.

“What’s wrong with me?” Mark wondered out loud.

~~

You grimaced as your stomach growled.

You were so hungry but you didn’t want to see him.

He scared you and it wasn’t just because of him kidnapping you.

That look in his eyes was so… so dark.

To you, it looked as if he wanted to kill you and if looks could kill, you would’ve been dead from the way he was staring you down.

You grabbed you right hand, rubbing the top of it, your head wiping to the door as you heard it open.

The young man walked in with a bowl in his hand.

“You’ve been in here all day. You must be starving.” he said, sitting down on the bed and handing you the bowl.

You looked at the bowl.

It was ramen and you licked your lips.

The man chuckled.

“I didn’t poison your food or anything if that’s what your thinking. I know your hungry.” a small smile was on his lips.

You picked up the chopsticks and began eating the noddles.

As you ate, he cleared his throat.

“So um like I know your name but you don’t know mines. My name’s Mark Lee.” he said and you glanced up at him for a bit before your attention when back to your food.

Mark silently sat on your bed as you ate, watching you slurp the noodles.

You felt nervous because his eyes never left your figure.

Once you were done eating, you heard Mark say, “I’ll take that.” he grabbed the bowl.

He looked at you as you stared down at the sheets of the bed.

He got up from the bed and leaned down, kissing the top of your head.

“You should get ready for bed. I’ll bring you some clothes and a towel.” and soon he left the room.

As Mark got you some clothes and toiletries, he couldn’t help but think back to your tear stained face.

Though he hated seeing you sad, there was something about the fear in your eyes that he loved.

Honestly, it turned him on seeing you so helpless and docile like that.

He clenched his fist.

No.

He shouldn’t think that way about you.

He was suppose to care and protect you, not hurt you… but still, there was a side of him that wanted to be the only one to not just give you pleasure but pain as well.

As he walked back to the room he held you in, Mark sighed before opening the door.

You looked at him as he gave you the things you needed for your shower.

���Here. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

~~

It’s been half a year since you’ve been with Mark and you wanted to escape so badly.

He was sweet at first. Awkward but very considerate.

But soon he started becoming touching, his hands and lips lingering on your cheek or neck or thigh.

Sometimes he would just stare at you, that dark, murderous look on his face.

Mark was becoming more and more unstable and you desperately wanted to leave.

He would also talk to you about his faith, crying, mostly about how he was going to hell for what he has done because apparently, hes done something so sinful that God would never forgive him.

You wondered what exactly it was that he has done that was so unforgivable because obviously, he wasn’t talking about kidnapping you.

One day, you tried to ask him but he gave you a stern look, pretty much telling you to drop the topic and you did, never bringing it up again… until now that is.

While Mark was away, curiosity overtook you and you went into his bedroom. You began looking through his stuff, looking around and soon found yourself in front of his closet.

You opened it, being met with clothes. Moving it aside, you saw a huge trunk and wondered what secrets were in it.

Opening the trunk, your face twisting in disgust as a rotting smell hit your nose.

There was brown leather inside of the trunk and it looked as though it was sewn up with something inside it.

Though one half of you was yelling at you to shut the damn thing and leave Mark’s room, the other half grew even more curious, wondering what exactly was in there.

Running out of the room, you grabbed some scissors and come back.

You ripped the leather sheet opened, the rotting smile growing stronger.

You ripped the leather wide enough only to scream, falling back onto your butt as you finally saw what was the cause of the smell.

A rotting corpse was bunch in the fetal position.

Your body shook, your hands pulling at your hair, your eyes wide.

So this was way Mark believed he was going to hell.

You didn’t hear the door to the apartment close as Mark walked in, cursing to himself as he smelled the air of the house.

He ran to his room and saw you on the floor having a panic attack.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” he yelled angrily at you, grabbing you off of the floor, shaking you.

“I-I-I didn’t I didn’t-” you were a stuttering mess. You were so afraid at what he was going to do to you. You’ve never seen him this angry before.

Mark slammed you against the wall, his hands tightly pinning your arms to your side.

“You know you’re not allowed to come in my room...” he said lowly, the murderous glint in his eyes.

“I-I-I I’m so sorry Mark. I-I didn’t meant to-”

“Bullshit!” he sneered.

He looked at the trunk then back at you.

“Since you disobeyed me, you need to be punished.” he threw you to the floor.

“Stay here.” he said before walking off.

You sat up, shaking in fear as you waited for him to come back.

So many thoughts were running through your head.

What was he gonna do to you?

Who was that in the trunk?

How long has that body been in there?

Your thoughts were interrupted as Mark walked back into the room, a big ax in hand.

Your eyes widen and you began to back up, your back hitting the wall.

“P-please! Mark please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” “Shut it!” he yelled.

Tears began falling down your face and Mark breathed out a shaky breath at your appearance.

He loved seeing you so afraid.

He moved closer to you, towering over your body.

“As punishment, I’m cutting your legs off. So lay down and don’t move.”

“Mark please...” you begged but he stared at you with a stone cold gaze.

“Lay down. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You shook as you did what he said, praying to whatever God that existed that someone will save you or for your existence to at least end.

“Just know that I’m doing this because I love you.” he said before lifting the ax, slicing your left leg above its knee.

You screamed loudly soon passing out from the pain.

#i feel like as a yandere mark would be pretty sadistic #yandere mark lee #yandere nct #yandere kpop #yandere nct 127 #mark lee x reader #mark lee x male reader #mark lee x you #nct x you #nct x reader #nct x male reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x male reader #nct 127 x you

[httphowell]

Brat

Summary - Dan doesn’t know how to shut up and it pisses Phil off

Read on ao3 here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243930

“Why don't you just fucking shut up,” Phil gritted his teeth, Dan beneath him on the mattress, wide eyes like he was innocent. Except Phil knew better, and Phil knew Dan was anything but innocent.

“What do you mean, Phil?” Dan asked, feigning ignorance, his eyes sparkling. It would’ve worked if the smirk hidden behind his teeth stayed under wraps.

Phil sighed, clenching his eyes shut, his fingertips going white around Dan’s wrists, “I mean, the utter shit you talk constantly. Like, would it do you any harm to just shut up and listen for once?”

Dan raised his eyebrows, looking at Phil above him. He looked young, he looked pretty. He looked heartachingly devastating. Phil ground his teeth again, hoping it wouldn’t become a habit just because Dan couldn’t just pay attention, knowing it would be by the end of the night.

“I do shut up,” Dan said; Phil thought the act was getting old. “I’m quiet now, see?” Dan turned his head to the side, eyes tilting to look towards his ear, “See? I can’t hear anything, can you?”

Phil shook his head in astonished disbelief, “I can hear you being an absolute twat.”

“Excuse me, Phil,” Dan’s eyes were alight, his head resting back on the pillow, “That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend, is it?”

Phil snapped his fists away from Dan’s, sitting back on his thighs across Dan’s hips. “Yeah, and whining isn’t any way for you to talk to yours, is it?”

Dan grinned, something painful, full of enjoyment. “Yeah, ‘cos you’re not giving me anything-”

“And I need to give you everything you fucking ask for? Is that it?” Phil cut in, his tongue like razors through the air. Dan didn’t react, besides the tick behind his eyes that only widened his smile.

“You need to give me more than just a bit of a snog, Phil.”

Phil rolled his eyes, crawling forwards to hold his hands up either side of Dan’s head, resting fists into the pillow, creases around his wrists. “So, you whining utter shit like ‘do better’, ‘that’s not gonna get me off’, and ‘I could cum quicker on my own’, is really gonna help, is it?”

Dan narrowed his eyes, squirming under Phil’s weight. “I was being honest!” His tongue licked around his lips as he tilted his head towards Phil’s wrist. “And as we know, relationships centre around honesty, don’t they, Phil?”

“Fucking shut up, will you?” Phil snapped, his tone verging on desperate. He didn’t mean the heat, he just needed Dan to stop running his mouth. Dan wasn’t the one in control here, Phil was, and he couldn’t fucking stand Dan’s attitude.

It wasn’t like Phil knew Dan was only doing it, talking all this shit, just to wind him up. He was vitally aware. He knew it like the back of his hand. He knew it like routine. He knew it like getting into bed, kissing marks into his neck, listening to him moan violent words just to get Phil to snap.

He knew what Dan was doing. He knew what he was doing. And it burned hot through his veins, smoke twisting through his hair like tendrils.

“And what if I don’t?” Dan responded eventually, words twisting like tied cherry stems, like licks of ice cream in the heat, like drawn love hearts in coals. He said it with a curled tongue, winking eyes, and Phil felt something flush through his bones.

“I’m gonna have to make you, aren’t I?” Phil shook his head, a hand coming loose to tug at strands of Dan’s hair, tilting his head back with a snap. “You can’t keep running your mouth and expect me to just fucking sit back.”

“What are you doing now then, Phil?” Dan said, eyes printing pictures onto Phil’s skin. “‘Cos it looks like you’re just ‘fucking sat back’.”

Phil gritted his teeth, tensed muscles, and ticked jaws. “You’re just waiting for it, aren’t you?” He shook his head, his head wound like coils of vapour. “You’re just waiting for me to snap,” he said, as if he didn't already know the answer.

“No,” Dan grinned, lips curling, “I’m waiting for you to get me off, ‘cos you’ve not done a good job, have you, Phil?”

Phil felt red sparks curl through his fingertips, nerve-endings spike through his brain. It was hazy, but everything felt so clear. He felt Dan’s squirming body under the weight of his thighs, he felt the rush in his breath against his neck, leaned over him. And he felt the way his chest pulsed when Phil’s hands roughly glided down his shoulders.

“It’s not like you deserve it, is it?” Phil said, taking a different route. “It’s not like you’ve done anything to make me want to get you off.”

“Oh, come on, Phil.” Dan batted his eyelashes, looking up all angelic. “I’ve been so good, you’re the one who’s not done anything here, isn’t that it?”

Phil clenched his fists, his jaw like iron bars under his flesh. “No, that’s not it, and you know that as well as I do.” Phil tested it, raising his eyebrows, waiting for the protest, but all he found was glittering pupils, awaited smirks - a look anticipating Phil’s next move.

Dan didn’t say anything while Phil adjusted his position, grabbing both of Dan’s wrists in one of his own, held above his head, stapled to the headboard. “You’ve not done anything to deserve it, have you?” Phil asked rhetorically.

Dan didn’t answer and Phil felt gold glimmers in the air. He continued slowly, each word corresponding a sharp move of limbs. “So, you’re gonna watch while I get off,” he said, his spare hand loosening his boxers under his cock, throbbing under accidental touches.

“That’s not fair, Phil.” Dan pouted, although Phil saw straight through it. He saw it all in the way he felt Dan’s cock under his legs, trapped between their bodies. He saw it in the way he squirmed under his gaze, the way his hands went limp under his own. He saw it in the number of times this had happened. Each one varying, each one the same.

“And you think you not listening, running your mouth, never shutting up - you think that was fair?” Phil raised his eyebrows, jutting his jaw out to the side. He waited for a response, but he got nothing. “Keep your hands there,” He mumbled, stern enough for Dan to listen. It made sparks shoot through Phil’s limbs, firework crackers having gone off too soon.

Phil wound his way to straddling Dan’s stomach, his dick bouncing across his skin as he adjusted his position. He let himself wait, smirking when he felt Dan’s own cock digging into him from behind. He steadied himself with his legs, holding himself still, before he looked at Dan’s open face.

“I’m gonna shut you up, stop you ruining it when I cum with all that shit you talk,” Phil held steady, eyes tilted down across Dan’s features, rising redness to his cheeks burning in the lamp-lit room. “Is that alright?” He confirmed, as always, waiting for Dan’s response before he continued.

Dan eagerly shook his head, yes, opening his mouth as the words stumbled, “Yeah,” he said softly, nodding again before he gained back his attitude. “But I’ve done nothing wrong-”

Phil rolled his eyes, confidence running freely with Dan’s broken act, regained demeanour, with soft words spoken as consent. He felt power through his wrists as he held the side of Dan’s jaw steady with sharp fingertips.

“Open your mouth, then.” Phil paused, waiting for Dan’s jaw to loosen, for his mouth to fall open, for his tongue to lie low in his lips. He trailed his fingers across his cheek, softness disguised in harsh words, in trusted promises, in riling and breaking.

“Do I not get any attention?” Dan whined, dropping his jaw again under Phil’s burning eyes. “Come on, you’ve not done anything and you’re the one getting off.”

Phil ground his teeth again, Dan getting under his skin like crowbars and screwdrivers, metal, and tools. He let a tick of time pass, before easing his fingers past Dan’s lips, two locked together as he pressed them against Dan’s tongue.

“I’ll consider it if you shut up,” Phil snapped, waiting while Dan moaned, vibrations around his knuckles like rushes of adrenaline. “While I get off, you’re gonna be good, aren’t you?” Phil asked, words taunting with his fingers in Dan’s mouth - a question without an answer.

Phil steadied his hips, feeling Dan’s lips close around his digits. He raised his eyebrows, daring Dan to step out of line, to do something to raise the tension. He didn’t, and Phil sighed. He let his spare hand twist down Dan’s chest, twisting between the concaves before winding around the base of his cock.

He curled his fingers tightly around his shaft, pulsing veins under his fingertips. Phil sighed shakily, Dan’s wide eyes watching him from underneath. He started to twist his wrist, slowly tugging himself off. He thumbed at the tip, putting on a show - or something closer to showing off.

Dan twisted his tongue around Phil’s fingers; Phil didn’t expect it, jerking his hips forward into his fist. Dan moaned, raising his eyebrows, and drawing his mouth open around his knuckles. He sucked heavily, leaning up with his neck to take them further down his throat at the response Phil made.

Phil regained his rhythm gradually, heavy breathing in the quiet, the peace. The room without Dan’s words spat into the atmosphere. His fingers twisted heavy around his cock, the weight in his palm grounding him under the tug of Dan’s mouth around his fingers.

It was purposeful, trying to throw him off, trying to make him forget the whole purpose. Phil resisted a smirk, knowing better. He watched Dan work his fingers over like they were his cock. Phil felt his chest pound watching him, jacking himself off over his chest. The silence was deafening, and Phil could finally breathe again.

“Fucking nice, isn’t it?” Phil gritted out, “When you’ve finally stopped.” He sighed deliberately, his hips jerking when he thumbed the head of his cock. “When I’ve finally shut you up.”

Dan moaned, his fingers twisting across his tongue. Phil felt the vibrations again, moans filling the air. He gripped his cock tighter, feeling his pulse rising, white hot pulses twisting through his stomach. It distracted him enough for Dan to pull back, Phil’s fingers rested against his chin as he panted thickly.

“I could get you off better,” Dan groaned, breath fiery against Phil’s wet fingers. “You know I could, Phil. You know the only reason you’re getting yourself off instead of me doing it for you is ‘cos you don’t want to be put to shame-”

“I thought I told you to shut up?” Phil cut in, his cock dribbling across Dan’s chest, wet with precum. He jerked himself off, rising on his hips as he dragged his fingers back across Dan’s jaw, tugging his mouth open to lay between his lips again. “I thought you promised you’d be good?”

Phil tilted his jaw, waiting for the inevitable response, but it didn’t come. His fingers lay heavy across his tongue. He sighed, thinking it was only a matter of time. He moaned low in his throat, focusing on the tight pressure around his cock, the suction of Dan’s mouth around his fingers. He drew himself broad, devastating touches on top of Dan’s body.

Dan's chest was bare, his shirt long forgotten, and his boxers slung low on his hips, close to being tugged off before he crossed the line of no return. Phil sighed, stifling a chuckle as heat dragged across Dan’s skin, brushes of his thighs, of his cock - skin. He twisted fingers around his dick, his thumb gently pulsing against his slit, moans tugged from his throat as he crimped his wrist again.

Dan bobbed his head back, tugging away against the pillow, leaving Phil’s fingers consumed in the air again. Phil went to open his mouth, protest, argue - fight for his control, but Dan got there first.

“You have really small fingers, you know,” Dan smirked; Phil narrowed his eyes, awaiting the following words, “Barely fill me up when you finger me - it’s like you’re a ghost… may as well not do it at all.”

“What happened to you shutting up?” Phil mumbled, his wrist slowing down against himself, although breathy sighs still left his lips. “Do you not want to get off?”

Dan’s eyes were bright, sunsets and skylights, “I was just making a point,” he said, drawing a single digit back between his lips, licking it before he spoke again. “Your fingers are so small, it’s noticeable when they’re in my mouth and I’m taking you all the way down without gagging. No wonder you don’t give me what I need.”

“Fucking shut up, will you?” Phil said, repeated words that tied the pair together. Phil ground his teeth, thinking this a battle of cat and mouse, losing control and gaining it. “Or actually, if my fingers aren’t good enough for you, how about you suck me off, that’ll fucking shut you up, won’t it?”

“Your dick isn't any better,” Dan raised his eyebrows, waiting, careful. “Can barely even feel it when you fuck me… almost like there’s no point. Maybe I was right earlier, maybe I would get off better on my own.”

“Open your mouth,” Phil said, deep in his throat, leaving no room for argument. Dan didn’t say anything back, he just dropped his jaw, eyes alive as he waited for Phil to shuffle up the bed, his hands still drawn tight together against the headboard with invisible boundaries trusted.

“But Phil,” Dan said, no purpose to his words. Phil waited for a continuation, only for Dan to grin and open his mouth again. It was all show, all words with no meaning, all words to rile him, to dive under his skin, leave lit matches buried underground. It was all Dan getting him worked up, it was all words and actions with everything hidden under the surface.

Phil sighed, his cock brushing across Dan’s jaw as he held himself poised, “But what, Dan?” He smirked, “I think someone needs to be taught they can’t just run their mouth, ‘cos you’re not fucking getting it.”

Dan moaned, flickers of arousal crossing his vision as his face went slack. He held his tongue flat as Phil brushed the tip of his cock between his lips, teasing but confirming. He was rough but he wasn’t painful. He never would be - there were lines drawn, even in their game of push and pull.

“You’re gonna be good this time, aren’t you?” Phil said, feeling Dan squirm underneath him. Phil was waiting for Dan to adjust to the sensation, but Dan eagerly held his head up, trying to suck Phil further into his throat.

He was greedy for it, his tongue twisting around his head, around his slit, before he sucked him deeper. Phil choked a moan as he grabbed onto the headboard with his spare hands, fingertips tight like he was denting the wood. Dan sucked like this was what he wanted all along; Phil wouldn’t be surprised if it was, but he didn’t care, not if Dan was quiet, he was hard, and Phil’s cock was between Dan’s lips.

“You’re finally getting it now?” Phil asked like a question, his hand holding Dan’s jaw as he pushed in slowly. Dan sputtered softly; Phil waited for him to settle before he pulled out again. He built up a slow pace, Dan’s jaw dropped and his mouth open for him to fuck.

Spit spiralled down his chin, soaking Phil’s cock with the heat. It was desperate and Phil’s nails were digging into the headboard, his hips careful to push into Dan’s mouth. Everything was warm, the heat rising as he sucked him down heavily.

“I’m close, yeah?” Phil mumbled, careful to pull back while Dan moaned in response. The waves hummed around his skin, pulses through veins, blood rushing through arteries. It was like Dan had hit every one of his buttons, pushing him forward, winding them both up. It was claws and desperation, and it was push and pull - cat and mouse.

Dan squirmed, moaning again around Phil’s cock, heavy vibrations along his tongue against his shaft. It was tight wet heat, like something hazy mixed in with liquor, like blackouts and volcanoes. But in actuality, it was Dan lying underneath him, trusting him while he thrust into his mouth, jolted hips, and heavy breaths. Dan held his hands steady against the headboard, clasped together for no other reason other than Phil asking him to.

It was devastating, and it was heavenly, and Phil didn’t think he’d ever get used to it, to him. Phil pushed in, feeling the brush of Dan’s tongue against his head, and groaned desperately. His body felt like he was snapping, like this was his real breaking point, like everything before was an act.

He moaned, whining high in his mouth, coming down Dan’s throat as he stared up at him with eager wide eyes, roughened edges with softened features that made Phil’s head spin. Dan sucked him down until he was dry, until Phil was easing back, his fingers curling around Dan’s jaw to pull him away.

“So, you can be good, after all?” Phil panted, remnants of sparks jolting through his body while the air was still thick with tension, with harsh breaths and snapped breaths. Phil sat back and felt Dan’s cock against his hip, pressing up hard as he fidgeted slowly against the sheets.

“If I’ve been so good, will you get me off?” Dan fluttered his eyes, the innocence an act, but one that left Phil reeling, nevertheless. “‘Cos I’ve been so good, haven’t I, Phil?”

“Yeah,” Phil mumbled, looking up to watch Dan’s expression twist, a smile crossing his own features as he watched Dan’s eyes glaze over. “You’ve spat all your words out, haven’t got any left now, have you? Or maybe I’ve just managed to shut you up eventually.”

“Get me off,” Dan groaned, his hips wiggling under Phil’s thighs. “Please, Phil-”

“I thought my fingers were small, and my dick couldn’t satisfy you?” Phil teased, words light dancing through the air. “If I can’t make you cum like you said I couldn’t earlier, what’s the point?”

Dan whined, his head thrown back across the pillows, “I’ve been good now, I was just winding you up, Phil - please… I’ve been good.”

“Yeah,” Phil said again, shuffling down Dan’s legs to settle between his hips, Dan’s legs spread either side. “You’ve finally shut your mouth, proved you can actually be good.” Phil faked a laugh, “Didn’t think you could be, after all the shit you talked.”

“Please,” Dan said again, “I can - I am.” He unlocked his legs further, his fingers twitching where they rested against the headboard, slouched against the pillow now.

“Mm,” Phil nodded, raising his eyebrows “Stay still, yeah?” He confirmed, waiting for the nod before tugging off Dan’s boxers, leaving him bare, lying flat out, sprawled across the white sheets. “I’m gonna get you off.”

“Please,” Dan repeated like it was the only word he knew. Phil snorted, thinking it funny after so much whining, so much shit, now he could barely string together a sentence.

He trailed his fingers around his hips, tracing the shape his bones with rough curves. Dan whined; Phil smiled. It was all in the name of teasing. He palmed down his thighs, one hand holding him steady against the mattress, the other curling around Dan’s cock, tightening his fist to slowly start to stroke him off.

“Come on… faster,” Dan groaned, his head shaking across the pillow. Phil deliberately slowed down, drawing smiles out of the noises spilt from his throat.

“I thought I said you were good?” Phil said, “Don’t ruin it now, huh?”

“I don’t need much,” Dan said, his voice thick and brushed raw from sucking him off, from holding his fingers in his mouth, from talking himself stupid. “I’m close already.”

“Are you?” Phil smirked, his wrist twisting, tugging Dan off the way he liked it, building slowly, careful strokes, gentle presses against his head. He jerked him off while he panted breathily into the air, smoke swirling as he squirmed.

Dan mumbled something in the back of his throat, but Phil couldn’t catch it the first time over the broken moan spilling through his lips. “Yeah,” Dan said louder, “Really fucking close.”

“Mm,” Phil hummed, tightening his fingers, holding down Dan’s hips with his spare hand, stopping him bucking up. He tugged him fast, heavy fingers, sturdy wrist. Whining moans filling the air. It was desperation in the air and fire through veins.

Phil smiled as he felt Dan twitching under his fingers. Dan’s cock pulsing between under his palm. He was coming before Phil could adjust his grip, white-hot sparks in the air and covering his palm. He palmed him through it, carefully slowing down while Dan squirmed, gentle whines through oversensitivity.

“When you said you were close,” Phil huffed a laugh, “You really meant it, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dan moaned, “I do talk some truth, y’know.”

“That’s questionable,” Phil shook his head, rolling his eyes as he leant over Dan’s body to grab at some tissues. “You alright though?”

“Yeah,” Dan nodded again, lying steady while Phil wiped the spit from Dan’s chin and the trails of cum from his hips. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Phil sighed, feeling deep sated through his chest, into his stomach. He collapsed against Dan’s side, laughing lowly when Dan didn’t move, “You can move your hands now, y’know, and the rest of you, really.”

“Oh,” Dan said, as if he didn’t realise, he was. Phil just shook his head, raising his eyebrows. “Thanks,” Dan mumbled, smiling as he stretched out before curling onto his side.

“Mm,” Phil said, lying next to him gently, like everything between them was softness and warmth, even though it was evident of the roughness torn between their muscles. But Phil didn’t think he wanted it any other way,

Dan wound him up, spinning him tight like coiled springs ready to explode, like he was filling him with gunpowder and it was coursing through his veins, like he wanted him to snap, and he wasn’t afraid of how.

Phil sighed: Dan’s words and Phil’s actions. It was drastic and desperate, ripped up with naked arms and curls between the cracks, between the harsh severity that soaked up the moonlight.

“Oh,” Dan mumbled, eyes half-shut, “I didn’t mean it… bout what I said. You do satisfy me... your fingers are nice ‘nd all.”

Phil snorted, fingers tracing over Dan’s waist, pressing between muscle as he trailed around his skin, “Yeah, I know.”

“Good,” Dan huffed a laugh, his breath blowing across Phil’s cheek.

“You don’t need to shut up either,” Phil mumbled, his body feeling tired, slowing down as the night started to take over, as the passion started to fade, and the softness reigned again. “Not all the time, at least.”

“Yeah,” Dan snorted, “Kind of you to say, thanks.” Dan sighed, breath warm as he leaned in, kissing Phil languidly, as if they had the whole night under their belt.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Phil laughed, shaking his head, and kissing him back. His fingers gentle across his cheek, his legs intertwined with Dan’s, their bodies pressed together in sweat and heat.

“Love you,” Dan mumbled, voice croaking under the weight of sleep.

Phil smiled, “Yeah, love you too.” He kissed him slowly on his lips, twirling their tongues together, tasting himself across Dan’s lips, but he didn’t care, not when he had Dan like this. Although he supposed it was more than just that moment, because in between the lazy tongues soothing violent breaths, it was trust, power - meaning.

It was Dan by his side, breath against his shoulder, tucked on one side of a double mattress. It was Dan falling asleep, trusting him in and out of consciousness. It was Dan never shutting up, even if he wanted him to, allowing him to speak those words, eight letters, three words. It was Dan giving Phil the energy and making it real.

So, he supposed it was more than that moment, and every moment before, every misspoken truth in the night, every rip of skin, every shortened breath. It was more than that because it was everything that came with it. It was loving him, and Phil supposed, that was unconditional.

"Love you," Phil said again, as if he had to say the words individually for them to count, instead of a response. But Dan was already asleep, his hair tucked around his face, his hands curled between their chests, and something stupid like a whole world sprawled across the mattress.

#phan #phanfiction #phansmut #dan howell #phil lester

[blackcoffeeandblankpagess]

Hiya chicky! I guess with all that is going on in your life I was wondering how you're doing with your ED recovery? Is intuitive eating going well? It seems like you've reached a place where you're much more relaxed around food and it's so incredibly inspiring. How did you get away from being rigid, measuring all your food, calorie counting, having strict labels, etc? What are the biggest pieces of advice you could giving someone who is trying to get to that place? What steps did you take?

Hello!! This message is sweet

I’m doing…so so. Always on a generally upward trajectory but currently in a little bit of a dip because…stress.

But tips! I gotchu

Literally the best advice I can give you is to pick like…one to three things to focus on at a time and don’t worry about the rest. Like at any given time there are approximately 239823498234923 things I could do better or be less strict about but if I just woke up and said “today i will stop counting calories and stop measuring and never step on a scale again and only move intuitively” my brain would probably explode. I’ve done all of those things pretty much but it was a long slow process to get there. But it works!

You can do this on a big scale like…january first what is my big ED recovery goal for the year or you can pick a few things each week or month. I like to pick like 3 things at the beginning of each month to focus on that month. So like for instance in March two of my goals were: Eat enough (as in, have that extra bedtime snack dammit) and Don’t worry so much about yesterday (as in, when you wake up instead of obsessing over the details of what you ate yesterday before choosing what to eat for breakfast today….just don’t!) If you tell yourself I’m just gonna try this for 30 days…if you ACTUALLY stick with it by the end of the month you’ll be like wow look I’m still alive and noting has changed! and then it seems less scary

Going off of that point, I think the best thing to do is to just force yourself to do things that make you uncomfy and realize over time that literally nothing bad will happen. For instance way back in the day I used to weigh myself every day which was BAD but I was terrified of giving that up because what if I gained a bunch of weight but didn’t check so I didn’t know??? I decided to only weigh myself every few months and realized my weight was basically the same every single time and I did not in fact need to micromanage it to do this. Your body likes homeostasis. Also, I had the astonishing realization that the number actually means nothing. Like if my clothes fit EXACTLY the same and I think I look exactly the same…what would it REALLY mean if the number on the scale was suddenly like 10 pounds more??? It wouldn’t really mean anything. So fuck it. I only know my weight from doctor’s appointments and I usually don’t let myself look at it until like months later so that I’m far enough removed that if it might affect me it won’t but really I just go based off of how my clothes feel etc. because that’s more meaningful than any arbitrary number.

The most recent and I guess one of the biggest hurdles is just letting myself eat whatever I want when I want it. This one is kinda weird because I feel like whenever I thought about eating freely I was like oh well but if I’m eating whatever I want whenever then shouldn’t I put like…27 spoonfuls of cream and sugar in my coffee instead of drinking it black because shouldn’t I theoretically like that more if I’m just doing whatever I want??? But it’s not like that. For me at least it’s more of like, if I go out to eat I expend zero mental energy on thinking about the nutritional content (numbers wise) in food and just get whatever sounds good. It means having a glass or 3 of wine and not worrying about it. It means going out for ice cream even if I’m a little full. What I realized is that (and again, I don’t want to make it sound like gaining weight is bad because it is totally healthy and fine, but I think I thought it was a lot easier to gain weight than it really is (at least for me) and I was holding so tightly onto this grip of “control” for literally no reason) every single time I’ve ever been stressed that I ate too much, etc. nothing ever happens. So then I was like…well wtf I should just do what I want and not stress because there is never ever ever any real impact on my “health” from a food decision so IT’S FINE!. And it is fine! In the fall I ate so much pizza, ice cream, and beer I can’t even tell you and my body stayed the same! Your body doesn’t want to change radically unless you are doing something radical! (this is not to say that if you are underweight you won’t gain weight because again, your body wants to find it’s healthy spot) but I think the current culture has brainwashed us into thinking if we eat 1 cookie that isn’t paleo-gluten free-insert more BS here- we will gain like 500 pounds over night or be “unhealthy” like wtf! eat what you want! it’s fine!

Maybe my opinion is skewed because 9 times out of 10 I am eating mostly veggies, fruit, oatmeal, whatever. But I never deprive myself of something if I’m craving it. I’ve eaten ice cream or cookies or brownies for dessert almost every night for the past few months just because. It’s fine! 

I feel like I got off topic but my point is that you really need to just let yourself live the way you envision your ideal relationship with your food and body because even though that might sound terrifying, you will probably realize that you can actually eat the way you want and the world won’t end and then POOF! It becomes infinitely more easier to eat that way in the future because you have gone through it and seen first hand that nothing crazy happens and you don’t need to be super rigid! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, my stress fracture was really the game changer for me. I sat on my butt for months, drank more beer, ate more cheese fries at midnight with my friends, and my body didn’t change. I was like WTF! I could have been doing this all along!

And it makes me nervous to say that because I don’t want it to sound like it would have been bad if my body did change because that is okay but I think most people coming from an ED think if they deviate even the slightest bit from their rigid routine their body will change in some drastic way and it just isn’t true. I think this fear comes from the fact that a lot of people with EDs do live in extremes, with starving, binging, purging, etc. etc. so we are used to our bodies changing frequently but in reality if you aren’t living in an extreme way, your body is not going to keep fluctuating in extremes (**I understand this is a generalization I feel like it’s almost impossible to talk on this subject without generalizing to some extent so if you do not fit into this mold I see you! I’m just talk from personal experience)

Okay I just read this over and I feel like I was really harping on the idea of don’t worry! your body won’t change in an extreme way! and you could argue that maybe the more important thing to realize is that it’s okay if your body does change, and there are much more important things in life, etc. etc. but…I feel like most of us understand those things intuitively, it’s just that that fear is still there. idk! idk the right thing to say! also...it’s totally normal for your bod to change throughout your life, it’s okay! I just think that a lot of us have a deep fear that if we eat a little differently suddenly things are going to change like...over night which is just not the case. I feel like I literally need to write a novel to get this point across correctly *is stressed*

Two really good resources for this- 1. The book “The Fuck It Diet” 2. The blog The Real Life RD 

Okay, that’s a lot. One step at a time.

#answered

[bang-bangtan-boys]

In The Late Of Night

{Taehyung x M!Reader}

Warnings: nsfw at the end

Request/Summary: hm I’d like one with v where he gets really upset cause he misses you.. ends up calling and you have to go and see him, maybe ends in some lite smut if possible ( @yzngserpent )

I accidentally made it somewhat fluffy near the end oops—

also the both of you are still in school. it’s like a high school au, but in college and BTS still exists. let’s pretend it’s like an after-school band thing and they’ve just been signed by bighit okay? so maybe the both of you are around 20-21… ok? taehyung is older by a year, so imagine whatever you’d like. i just miss skinny baby-boy BTS tbh (TT)

*for once it’s edited lmao*

You sat alone in the cold bedroom, typing away on your computer to finish up your school work that was due tomorrow. Biting your lip, you tried to focus on your paper, but it was hard to do with the constant Snapchat text-sounds that you were recieving. It was 11 o’clock at night, what was Taehyung still doing up?! You had an excuse— you were finishing homework. But Taehyung had practice early tomorrow so he should be getting rest. Sighing, you reluctantly peeled your eyes off the computer screen and readjusted your sight to the screen of your phone. Opening up Snapchat, you saw Taehyung had sent you almost 20 messages, and it didn’t look like he was going to stop anytime soon. 

CutieTae♡

Jagiiii

[M/NNNN]

OMG ANSWER ME FFS—

CutieTae♡ sent a snap!

You sighed, finding Taehyung’s clingy-ness rather annoying at this time of hour. You were tired; couldn’t he understand that? Deciding to feed Taehyung some of the attention he so desperately craved, you opened the snap. Almost immediately after opening it, you regretted it.

TaeTae’s[M/N]

Taehyung!!

It’s 11.03, go tf to sleep!

CutieTae♡ sent a snap!

TaeTae’s[M/N]

And stop sending me ass pics

Go to sleep for Christ’s sake

I have a paper due tomorrow, I need to focus on finishing that

CutieTae♡

But I’ve been waiting all day!

I miss you!

I haven’t seen you for a week

[M/N]ie

Pleaseee

TaeTae’s[M/N]

Maybe tomorrow night, Tae

Right now I’m too tired to add 2+2

And don’t you have practice tomorrow?

I don’t wanna make you sore…

CutieTae♡

I don’t care

The other members probably won’t mind either

They might let me off the hook

CutieTae♡ is calling…

You sighed, not really sure if you should pick up or not. On one hand, talking with Taehyung could ease the growing insanity known as college-struggles. On the other, it could lead you to make poor decisions; Taehyung always seemed to get his way no matter what.

“Taehyung-ah, you need to sleep,” you were first to speak up, not even saying ‘hi’.

“Wow, I missed you too,” Taehyung sassed, and you could sense him pouting, “Does [M/N] not love me anymore?”

“No, Taehyung, it’s not anything like that. I’m just—“

“Not even calling me Hyungie or jagiya? Ahh, [M/N] really doesn’t love me anymore!” Taehyung began to use a slight baby voice, trying to be cute and wrap you around his finger.

“Tae, please dont make this any more difficult that it has to be,” you sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“What do you mean? I just want you to acknowledge me as your boyfriend, not some item you seem to be bored of!” Taehyung said, rather loud. Didn’t he realize he had a sleeping roommate next to him?

“TaeTae, isn’t Hoseok-hyung sleeping next to you? Isn’t the noise you’re making bothering him?”

Taehyung scoffed, sounding genuinely upset, “So what I’m hearing is that my problems are just noise to you? I miss you, [M/N]! It’s been forever since we’ve seen each other in person, and now is a good opportunity for us to meet up.” On the other end of the line, Taehyung had sat up from his position on the bed, beginning to sound annoyed, “And, for the record, no; Hoseok-hyung isnt in the room with me. He, Yoongi, and Namjoon are busy working on some rap lines for our new song. He said he wouldn’t come back so you and I could have some privacy to spend time together, but it seems like I can just call him back over here since you obviously can’t find time for me…”

You hear a slight sniffle on the Taehyung’s end and sighed, disappointed in yourself that you made him cry.

“Taehyungie-” you tried, but he cut you off. “Am I not good enough anymore? Am i boring? It’s because I gained 4 pounds, isn’t it?!”

“No, Hyung, that’s not it—“

“I’m not attractive anymore, huh?!”

“Tae, no, that’s not it either—“

“If you want me to lose weight, I can! If it’s my sounds i make during sex, I can change them!” You sighed through your nose, feeling guilty and agitated at the same time. “Taehyung listen to me, the way you are during sex isn’t bad. I dont care about your weight. Everything about you is fine, I just have this paper to finish up and—“

“It’s okay,” Taehyung said quietly, bitterness laced in his tone of voice, “I’ll call Hoseok-hyung and tell him you aren’t coming...”

Taehyung ended the call suddenly, not even saying goodbye. You knew you had struck a nerve there; Taehyung always wished you a good day or night and made up multiple excuses so you guys could continue your call. He always said goodbye. Sighing, you stared at the phone screen for a while longer, contemplating whether or not you should call him and try to make things better. You glanced at the time; it was almost 12 o’clock. You set your phone face down, turning back to your computer reluctantly.

You spent about 5 minutes typing, but could only type out one sentence before throwing your hands up in defeat. The thought of an unhappy Taehyung kept nagging at you, and eventually you stood up and got dressed to go to BigHit Studios to visit him. You left the small apartment without even brushing your hair, wrapping the jacket you randomly picked out around your body tightly.

You knocked desperately at the door, knowing very well at least Jungkook was up; Jungkook was probably playing games on the computer. Hell, maybe even Namjoon would be up, just for the hell of it. 

Instead, Jimin opened the door, having to look up as soon as his eyes made contact with your chest— since that was your guys’ height difference. He smiled at you, “Oh! Hey [M/N]! How have you been?”

“Great, umm… actually, I came to see Taehyung,” you dropped your voice to a whisper, “We got into an argument.”

Jimin opened his mouth, letting out an ‘ahhh’ in understanding, “In that case, he’s in Jin’s room. He seemed rather upset…” He shrugged, figuring it made sense now.

“Thank you,” you gently pushed past him, and Jimin watched your retreating figure for a bit before closing the door and moving to his previous spot on the couch. You made your way to Seokjin’s room, knocking three impatient times before Worldwide Handsome himself answered. The door wasn’t fully opened, as if he had been expecting you, as he stood in the small crack that barely accommodated the span of his shoulders. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, somewhat sarcastically. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know he’s in there.”

Jin sighed, looking inside, as if he needed confirmation, before opening the door fully for you to enter. There was Taehyung, laying on Jins bed as he was curled into a little comfort burrito. You had to suppress a snort at his state— entire body engulfed in a warm blanket with his face squooshed through the small opening. 

“Why are you here??”

“Hm? But I thought you wanted me here?”

“I’ll leave,” Jin says, closing the door behind him so you two could have your privacy. 

“I did, but not anymore” Taehyung said, “Now I don’t feel like seeing you.”

His voice is softer the second time he speaks, like hearing his own hurtful words made him upset as well. “Hyungie,” you start, “I had a school project to finish, its due tomorrow— well, today…” You check the time; 12.44AM. 

“I know, I know,” Taehyung says, “I shouldn’t bother you with it… I know…” He sounds close to crying. You sigh through your nose, “Baby, it’s not like that… you weren’t bothering me…” Taehyung stays silent, not meeting your gaze, “You really weren’t…” you tried to reassure him. 

Sighing once again, you move to rest your head on what you assumed was his arm, wrapping your arms around the baby-blue-burrito-hooman you called your boyfriend, “I couldn’t finish my essay; I came here ‘cause I thought I could finish it before class and convince Mr. Han to let me print in-class… I’m yours the whole night,” you tried to give your best forced smile, wanting to look genuine and comforting, but it wasn’t like there was a mirror near you (surprisingly, Jin only had two— a full length and a dresser mirror…). 

Taehyung still says nothing and you huff, “Hyungie… I walked all the way over here!” You whined, moving to let Taehyung lay on his back so you could hover over his hips. He pouted, “[M/N], get off…” You shook your head, moving to unwrap Taehyung from Jin’s blanket. You undid it gently so now his body was shown to you— a light grey T-Shirt with cute shorts that went down to his thighs. Mmmh, his thighs…

You shook your thoughts out of your head, moving to sit on top of your precious Hyungie as you smiled up at him, “Now that the boundaries have been disarmed, can we fuck?” Taehyung nearly choked on his breath, “You sent me all those pictures— I saved them all and now I’m horny.”

“[M-M/N], I—“

“No, I’m gonna make it up to you,” you said, moving your hands up the male’s shirt to softly caress his hips, going higher and gently feeling each rib through his skin. Taehyung squirmed a bit, red spreading across his face like jam; the feeling tickled him. Your hands eventually reached his nipples and brushed over them, watching as they perked to life under your fingers. Taehyung let out a soft breath, eyes closing as he bit his lip. You smirked; was he trying to conceal his sounds? Was this his way to get back at you?

Your hands eventually left Taehyung’s chest and moved to his hips again, slowly trailing to his V-line, and eventually— finally— you pushed Taehyungs shorts down enough to expose his grey boxers. You huffed; had he changed out of his lacy lingerie after your little argument? You wondered what that must have been like for him— the intent of impressing you when all you did was ignore him. You cocked a brow at him, ignoring those thoughts since— by the look on his face— it seemed to make him rethink and regret his actions… somewhat, “It’s wet?” 

You sounded more like you were stating it, but there was a small raise to your voice to make it qualify as a question. Taehyung moved to cross his legs, only being able to touch his knees together. Your hand hovered above his warm crotch, barely grazing it with the tips of your fingers before you planted them softly on the surface, not pressing down. Taehyung bit his lip again, a soft whine pushing through his teeth as he arched his back. 

Taehyung tried bucking up against you, but your other hand was quick to hold him down, pushing his hip against the mattress. Your thumb traced the top of Taehyung’s erection, moving to the waistline of his underwear (where the tip of his length began to poke out) before pulling it down, setting him free.

Your palm made contact with Taehyung’s member, slowly wrapping your hand around it before pumping slowly, gripping tightly. Taehyung let out a small, broken yelp, back arching even more off the bed. Your hand was squeezed so tightly around him, but going so slow. It was pathetic how much he tried to thrust into you, your other hand trying its best to pin his waist and keep him at bay. 

Suddenly, Taehyung used as much force as possible to turn you over, moving on top of you so your cocks were pressing against each other. He then rapidly began to rut against your clothed crotch, moaning loudly as tears pooled in his eyes. “H-Hyung—“ you called out, startled by the sudden neediness Taehyung displayed. He moaned out— soft, this time; unlike the previous ones, which were long and dragged. 

“I was so needy earlier,” Taehyung admitted, “But you were so busy… I- ahh- I’m sorry I might make you get a bad grade…” Tears fell from his eyes, “I should’ve left you alone like you asked… I’m a bad b-boyfriend…”

You watched as Taehyung cried silently as he ground against you leg, members brushing against each other as if, they too, missed each other’s feeling. 

You sat up, kissing Taehyung’s neck while he wrapped his arms around you, hands running through your hair before staying in place, tugging it every so often as he cradled his forehead against your shoulder. “Baby,” you said, trying your best to suppress your moans so you could speak clearly, “You aren’t a bad boyfriend. You just- hnh- needed me really bad… I ignored you; I’m the bad boyfriend.” 

“[M/N]~”

“Taehyungie~”

You both moaned out, Taehyung’s cum splattering across your chests while yours made itself apparent by staining your jeans. You panted in time with Taehyung, making eye contact before Taehyung hugged you, burying himself in the crook of your neck. You were stunned for a bit, before wrapping your arms around him and leaning against him to counter his weight against you. 

You opened your mouth to speak, opting to ask if Taehyung wanted to move to his room and talk things out, maybe even so you could apologize more, but Jungkook beat you to it. 

“Hey, Taehyungah, [M/N]ah,” Jungkook spoke through the closed door before opening it, eyes too focused on the back of a video game cover— reading the summary to himself— while talking to notice your guys’ position, “I just got this new game; feel like playing a three playe-aH OH MY GOD, IM SO SORRY!”

Jungkook slammed the door, and Taehyung tried covering himself with the blanket before Jungkook saw anything. Too late, Jungkook had seen enough. He stood outside the door, still apologizing, “Jimin said you guys were in here talking things out and that a new game would be perfect to try and fix things but I didn’t know you guys were busy—“ he dragged on. 

You laughed while Taehyung cried to himself. “Hey, I’m still down for a threesome!”

“[M/N]!”

“I meant the game, Kookie. I have my own joystick right here!” You said, referring to Taehyung, whose pants were now pulled up all the way. Taehyung blushes and hugged a pillow to his chest and face. Jungkook sputtered, trying to find something to say before whining and running off, “Jiiin!! Taehyung and [M/N] are making porn in your room!!”

“Yah!! You kids get out and do it in your room! My sheets better not have any cum in it— or else!!”

“Yes hyung!” You and Taehyung said together. 

This ended up being about 7-8 pages on GoogleDocs, depending on whether or not you wanna add the A/N’s and request

#taehyung x male reader #bts mlm imagine #bts imagine #v x male reader #bbts x male reader #request

[youngjusticeslut]

Becoming Together

So everyone knows how much I love @tessaart​ right? No? Well, I’ll make it known. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for my artist made in heaven? Ya, that’s this beautiful soul. Just randomly surprises me w/cute art like this. And then this cute art... inspired a 6k one-shot. So, enjoy that fam. If you hate reading on Tumblr, which, mood, here is the AO3 link, and the FF.net link. Otherwise, please proceed below.

Star City July 16th 18:04 PST Team Year Eight

“I’m gonna do it.”

Jade looked up from where she’d been setting the table for dinner. Two months at the Star City house, and it still didn’t feel any less strange. Nevertheless, she persisted in her attempts of normalcy. Lian was ecstatic when Jade picked her up from daycare, or administered bathtime. Those were the easy feats. The harder ones lied in simplicity. On a grocery trip, Will ran into a former employee and introduced her as his wife. She disappeared for the remainder of the day, and they fought about it for a week.

Some days, Jade wondered if she made the right decision coming home.

Other days, she’d keep her breathing even and her eyes closed, savoring the sensation of Will moving some stray hair out of her face, or a kiss if he was feeling particularly risky. She’d laugh and dance along to a song on the radio, at Lian’s insisting. At least once a week, Will would put Lian to bed early, and then he’d give Jade anything she wanted until she could no longer breathe.

Choosing to stay wasn’t easy; but it had its merits.

“Do what?” Jade asked, filling Lian’s sippy cup with more water than juice. She’d once laughed at Will for doing so and called him a stick in the mud. Funny how things changed.

Will turned the gas off and slid the pot to a cold burner, opening up the leftmost cupboard to grab three plates. “Shave. I think I’m done with the beard.”

She scoffed. “You said that last week.”

“I mean it now.” Will spooned a generous amount of risotto onto the first plate before holding it out to Jade.

“Mhm.” She took the plate and the one that followed, setting them on the table. “Did you dress the salad?”

Will frowned, clutching the bowl of greens tight in his palms. “You don’t believe me.”

“Not particularly. You like the beard.”

“I’m tired of it. It’s time to shave.”

“Then you would have, already.” Jade took the salad bowl from him, placing it in the center of the kitchen table. Then she paused, raising a brow as she glanced at her husband. “This isn’t about the other night, is it?”

“There are a lot of nights, Jade. Three hundred and sixty five of them in a year, actually. So you’ll need to be more specific.”

She smirked. “Look who’s grown a sense of humor. It’s cute, Red.”

Not too long ago, Will might have scowled. Today, he grinned. “I try.” He covered the pot with its lid before wiping his hands on his jeans. “Seriously though, what night?”

“Think about it.”

The night in question took place in the previous week, in which Lian fell asleep early. Will had started kissing her neck, and within minutes their clothes were on the kitchen floor. Things had been going splendidly until they weren’t. Jade liked it rough, she would be the first to admit that. She just didn’t exactly care to be rubbed raw by a beard.

Will came to the realization after a few moments, a blush tinting his cheeks once he did. “That night?”

“No, the night we ate canned ravioli for dinner, which was disgusting, by the way,” Jade sneered. “I can’t believe you feed our daughter food from a can.”

“Only on emergency nights where we--wait, don’t change the subject. My desire to shave has nothing to do with that night.”

“So, we’re not going to talk about the canned ravioli?”

“Jade,” Will sighed, already exasperated. “You don’t like the beard. Why are you arguing about this? I thought this was what you wanted.”

That much was true. Not that Jade would never admit it, for it wasn’t her place. So long as he was happy, she couldn’t care less what he looked like. If you asked her what she preferred though, then it was no beard all the way. She grinned, grasping his jaw in between her nimble fingers. “Didn’t know you cared so much about what I thought.”

He shrugged, trying hard to keep his blush from spreading. “I don’t.”

This was one of those opportune times that Jade would egg him on, goading him to the point of utter frustration. Lucky for him, Lian entered the kitchen before Jade could add anything else. Their toddler crossed her arms, wearing a large pout. “I’m hungry,” she whined.

“Good, because dinner’s ready. Did you wash your hands?”

Lian’s pout only deepened. “No.”

Jade scooped her daughter up, carrying her to the kitchen sink. “Let’s wash hands together.” It was easier this way. If she hadn’t of cut in, Will would go on another lecture about hygiene, and neither she nor Lian wanted to hear it.

Gotham City November 9th 23:54 EST Team Year Four

Jade would never get over her bitter contempt for Gotham City. Still, it was familiar. And familiarity was something she needed after trekking around the world for the better part of a year. The apartment wasn’t nice, but it was sufficient. Working electricity, running water, and a washing machine to boot. What could she say? Jade didn’t mind splurging after months of changing between a dirty kimono and beat up cargo pants.

Roy, though? Roy didn’t seem to care either way; they could have been living in an outhouse for all he noticed.

His research was growing to a point where Jade was starting to get concerned. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, much less showered or slept. They’d both done a terrible job of keeping up with the necessities of living while on the search for Speedy, but this was supposed to be their break. Time to recoup, gain a few pounds back. Lay low and fuck around a bit.

She really wished they’d do more of the latter part.

“You’re doing a really shit job taking care of your wife, you know,” Jade sang, exiting the kitchen with a bottle of water. “Sexually, I mean. We both know that I’m the breadwinner in this union.” A few weeks ago, he might have smiled. She could still get him to smile, then. Now she was lucky if he even looked at her.

Roy’s gaze didn’t leave his laptop, instead pounding at the keys until another search result popped up. A quick peer over his shoulder disclosed that he was looking at a Brazilian tech factory. She snorted, shaking her head. “I’d cross Brazil off the list.”

“Why?” he grunted. “We haven’t hit there, yet.”

Jade shrugged. “Not secluded enough. I’d have gotten a drop on it if it was worth our time.”

“You’re not the be-all on Shadow knowledge. There’s no way you know everything. He could be there.”

The argument was commonplace for them now. Usually, she let it brew and bubble into a raging fire that ended with him throwing her against the wall and smothering her with his lips. Today, she wasn’t in the mood.

“Hey,” she began, trailing a finger down his neck. “If you have a good feeling about Brazil, we’ll try Brazil. But for now, take a break. It would do you good.” Jade slipped her arms around Roy’s neck, pecking it softly. He didn’t acknowledge her, so she pressed her lips against his upper shoulder; it felt more like a boulder than a tense muscle.

Roy shrugged her off, rougher than he had to be. It stung more than she expected it to. Without hesitation, Jade shoved away his laptop and stood in front of him; he knew better than to move her a second time.

He narrowed his eyes, red-rimmed and hollow. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

“On the contrary, Red,” Jade purred, her hands gripping both his wrists. “We have all the time in the world.”

A bitter game began between them. The line of sight remained unbroken, laptop temporarily forgotten. Blue eyes glared at gray. Jade smirked; he was actually listening. She took a step closer, and Roy swallowed, goosebumps appearing. “What do you want, Chesh?”

Jade shrugged, letting go of one of his wrists to trail a fingernail along his stubble. The shadow wasn’t a good look on him. “Go shower, Red. Take a nap. Shave. I’ll order something in.”

He scoffed, low and guttural. “What’s the point?”

“The point?” Jade cocked a brow. “Sleep and food are rather necessary to survival. The shower and shave are more for my personal enjoyment.”

Roy shook his head, turning it away from her penetrating gaze. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Soap is in the shower, and I even put out a fresh razor by the sink.”

“No, Jade, I can’t.” His shoulders slumped, head following suite. Jade waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Every fiber in his body seemed to sag, finally collapsing under the weight of his doubts. She wanted to press, but something held her back.

She crouched down to her knees, gently sticking a finger under his chin and tilting it upwards until he met her eyes again. The blue stood out among the redness, begging her to understand. And she did. Jade had been around him long enough to guess what was troubling him.

It was no wonder he didn’t want to take care of himself; every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the boy whose life he stole. Or thought he stole, at least. Roy didn’t believe any of her attempts to convince him otherwise.

“What if I do it for you?”

Roy’s brow furrowed, confused by the ludicrous suggestion. She didn’t blame him. Before Jade had taken an interest in his life, she could have counted the number of people she cared for on one hand; and even then, there were still unused fingers. Caring was a loose term, better described as a general interest that could be stifled as a matter of convenience. As much as she hated to admit it, Roy changed that.

She couldn’t exactly pinpoint when she fell in love with him. It must have been somewhere in between the sleepless nights, the frantic pounding and the adrenaline of the chase. Jade wasn’t about to change who she was; she hadn’t even admitted her feelings out loud to him. Instead, she preferred her actions to speak for themselves. She’d married him, hadn’t she?

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” Roy muttered.

Jade shook her head, holding his jaw tight in her fingers before pressing a gentle kiss against his mouth. “Not today, Red.”

Star City July 17th 6:56 PST Team Year Eight

It was rather unwavering, being stared at by a three year old.

Lian had such an intense gaze, like her mother. The little girl was barely able to spell her name, and yet, in one glance, Will was sure she could see right through him. Terrifying, really.

“What’cha doing, Daddy?” she asked, swinging her chubby legs that dangled off the counter. It wasn’t every morning that Will tempted her with a mission; he didn’t blame her for being curious.

Never one to stifle her ever-growing curiosity, he continued to lather up his face, checking in the mirror to be sure he didn’t miss a spot. “Shaving.”

Lian raised a brow. She knew all about shaving; more than once, to ward off her boredom once Tara and Violet had gone, she’d sit on the tub while her Aunty Mouse shaved her legs. “Goin’ on a date?” she asked Will, cocking her head to the side. Whenever Lian had asked Artemis as to why she was shaving, Artemis would always answer that she was going on a date with disaster.

Will chuckled, glancing at his daughter with a softness he kept reserved for her and her mother. “Not exactly.”

“Oh,” Lian sighed, disappointed.

Her sad pout was too much for Will to bear. A normal father might have made a jest, or tickled away the frown. Will didn’t exactly consider himself normal; it was hard for him to show spontaneous physical affection to his daughter, despite the overwhelming amount of love he had for her. He was working on it, though.

Will bent down to her level, offering her a smile. “Want a kiss?”

Lian made a face, pout gone and replaced with a scrunch of disgust. “No! You got stuff on your face.”

“All the more reason.” Before she could clamber off the counter, he trapped her in his arms, planting a very foamy kiss on her cheek. Lian shrieked, bursting into giggles and trying to escape her father’s grasp. Will backed away after kissing her other cheek, unable to help the grin stretched across his face from the sound of her laughter.

Lian wasn’t finished, though. She pawed at his face, spreading the foam far beyond his beard and getting it into every crevice she could. Will tried to stop her, but was laughing too hard to get anywhere with it. By the time she finally had her fill, they were both covered with shaving cream.

Sure, he wasn’t the most touchy-feely father, but she loved him anyway. They understood each other, and for now, that seemed to be enough.

Will wiped the foam out of her eyes first, shaking his head at her. “You need a bath.”

“So do you!” she retorted, giggling soon after.

His laugh followed hers as he moved to run a bath. “What am I gonna do with you, Lian?”

“Dunno.” It was as simple an answer a three-year-old could give. Will appreciated that.

When the bath was full, he lifted Lian off the counter so she could undress. To his credit, Will attempted to help her, but that only sparked a repeated chorus of ‘no, I can do it’. Sometimes, he marveled at how quickly she was growing up. He still looked at her and saw the little baby in her mother’s backpack, laughing in the middle of a dangerous mission.

It was a miracle that Jade was still asleep by the end of Lian’s bath. He didn’t know how his wife managed to bathe her and end up dry. Every time he and Artemis attempted, they were both soaked to the bone. Then again, who could pass up a rousing battle between Aquaman (Lian), and the various evil sea creatures lurking in the tub? Will had Kaldur to blame for that one. By the time they were both dry, redressed and in their original positions, he was running far behind schedule.

“Alright, no distractions. I have fifteen minutes to shave, and then we can make breakfast. Deal?”

Lian nodded, messing with her pink headband. It was only a matter of time before it would end up on the floor, but Will would deal with that later. He picked up his razor and ran it under the running tap before angling it right under his left cheekbone.

“Scared, Daddy? Wanna hold hand?” Lian asked, noticing his hesitation. It was amazing how such a kind hearted creature had come from his and Jade’s genetics. Neither of them were ever this nice. It was sweet that his daughter was offering him the same comfort he gave her when she was scared.

Will set the razor down. “Thanks, Lian. Do you… want to help?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “I help?”

“Yeah. But you have to be careful and listen to Daddy, okay?” It was probably a dumb idea to give a kid a razor, but Will was right there, and he wasn’t about to let anything happen. Lian took the razor in her hands before she nodded, face scrunched in determination. His instructions were simple, and he kept an eye on her the entire time; it was worth it to see the look on her face once she made the first pass. When she got bored, he took over, no longer apprehensive. The deed was done, nothing to do about it now.

When it was finished, Will wiped the remaining foam off his face, a little jarred by the smoothness of his cheeks. It had definitely been a while since he’d been clean-shaven. After applying aftershave, he looked at Lian, trying to gauge her expression. She was staring again. “What do you think, Lian?” he asked while rubbing his jaw.

The toddler pursed her lips, not unlike her mother, and tilted her head to the side. “You look funny.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, but beckoned him closer with her finger. Happy to oblige, Will leaned closer to her. Lian touched his face, giggling at the unfamiliar sensation. It occurred to him that she probably didn’t remember how he looked without a beard; he’d started growing it out shortly after her first birthday.  

“Still funny?”

Lian shrugged, letting go of his face. “It’s okay. You look like a baby.”

Ah, there was the brutal honesty he’d been expecting. Will didn’t know if it came from him or Jade. Perhaps it was both. He pouted, resting his hands on the counter. “A baby?”

“A baby’s butt,” she corrected before breaking into a fit of laughter. Will’s eyes glazed over, trying not to take it personally; she’d probably picked up the phrase at preschool.

While Lian laughed, Will cleaned the counter, giving her enough time to calm down. Jade would be waking up any minute, and he’d hoped to have breakfast ready before then. “That’s enough out of you, Squeaker,” he said once he finished, picking his daughter up. “We’ve got breakfast to make.”

“Pancakes?”

He mulled it over, trying to remember if they had the ingredients for pancakes. There had to be some mix leftover from last week, and Jade had picked up milk and eggs a couple of days prior. “I don’t see why not.”

“Yay!”

Will unsuccessfully tried to shush her, hoping to extend his wife’s slumber so he could at least make coffee. “Careful. If your mom wakes up and there’s no coffee, there’s a good chance she’ll leave us.”

He regretted it as soon as it had come out of his mouth. Lian’s face twisted, her cheeks tinting pink and growing tight as she mulled over his words. Will touched her head, smoothing back her bangs from her face. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

It took a few moments for her complexion to return to normal. Lian rubbed her eyes, glancing in the direction of her parents’ room. “Don’t want Mommy to go,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around Will’s neck.

“I know.” He rubbed her back, holding her close. It wasn’t up to him, though; Jade would come and go as she pleased. “I don’t want her to go either.”

Moscow December 30th 4:49 MSK Team Year Four

Roy trembled in her arms.

The dirty porcelain tiles remained cold beneath them, even though they’d been slumped against them for the better part of the evening. Jade kept her lips clenched tight to keep her teeth from chattering; her discomfort didn’t matter, not at the moment. Despite the cold, Roy was soaked with sweat. He hadn’t stopped shaking since she’d returned to the safehouse.

It was Jade’s fault he was like this; naturally, as most things were. She hadn’t introduced him to heroin, but she hadn’t stopped him either. In the beginning, she hadn’t seen the harm. If a little high would take away his pain, who was she to stop it? It was fun, at first. They’d stake out the local nightclubs, looking for information. She would hunt, and he’d get high. When they got what they came for, or didn’t, they’d have some fun on their own. Roy was a better kisser when he was high; more attentive.

Then it stopped being fun.

More of their money began to disappear. While she put a valiant effort at it, Jade couldn’t keep pretending that she didn’t know where it was going. If she let him continue, she’d lose him entirely.

Roy jerked straight in her hold. In an instant he was gripping the toilet, retching and gagging as if his life depended on it. She could do nothing but sit and watch, letting him be consumed by the very thing that did this to him.

“You’re okay,” she whispered once he was done, keeping Roy steady as he slumped back against her. “You’re going to be okay.”

Roy shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair, matted with sweat. “I can’t.”

“Stop talking.”

“No, I can’t,” he choked, crumbling against her. “I can’t do this.”

Jade shushed him, holding him tighter, trying to stop his shaking. “You don’t have a choice, Roy.” Her throat was rubbed raw from their argument the previous night. While he was out, she’d gotten rid of everything. Every needle, every trace of any addicting substance. Now, he was paying the price.

Her help in the search for Speedy, or heroin; she hadn’t given him another option. He’d tried, grabbed her wrist and almost broken it if she hadn’t of elbowed him in the gut. Jade could still hear the string of curses, the abysmal things he’d said to her. When Roy had finished, he stormed out. Without any money and nowhere to go, he returned twelve hours later. She let him sweat it out for a few hours; literally. By the time she gave in, his clothes were drenched and he’d been vomiting for the better part of an hour.

“Drink something,” Jade insisted, holding up a glass to his lips. She wasn’t surprised when he refused, just like every other time she’d tried. “Red, you’re going to pass out if you don’t drink. You’ve been throwing up for hours.” His skin was clammy against her palms, and despite her hold, he continued to shake.

When he didn’t respond, Jade grit her teeth. “Open. Now, Red.” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his jaw in her hand, forcing it open. To his credit, Roy tried to fight, but he was far too weak to withstand her. He choked on the water, getting it all over both of them, but that was the least of Jade’s concerns. So long as some of it went down, she didn’t care.

Jade set the glass down, letting out a deep breath. Truth be told, this wasn’t how she envisioned her night going. She’d thought that Roy would be more stubborn, that he’d hold out on returning for at least a few more hours. Those few hours would have allowed Jade some much-needed rest, but here she was. Another sleepless night, making sure that her husband didn’t end up dead. It was too common to be cute, anymore.

“You look like death,” she murmured, smoothing out the knots in his hair.

“I feel it. It’s so cold, Jade.” Roy’s lips were looking a little blue. She cursed and leaned him against the wall, making sure that he was held up-right before going to get a blanket. The one on the bed was thin, but it would have to do. Once wrapped around him, it did nothing for his shaking, but he insisted he was better. “I think I’m done heaving. There can’t… be anything left in me.”

She hummed, resting her head against the wall. Exhaustion was starting to set in, but she wouldn’t allow herself the pleasure of sleep. On the ceiling above them, a spider dangled precariously from its web. “You’d be surprised. Do you want to lay down for a bit?”

Roy shook his head. “I don’t think I can get up.”

“Then don’t. I’m not going anywhere.” He must have been drained, for he didn’t even look at her oddly. Instead, he just sank down and rested his head on her lap. She didn’t mind being a little softer with him, now. He wouldn’t remember it when he was past his detox. Her fingers gravitated to his neck, smoothing down his hear with a feather’s touch.

“This can’t happen again, Roy.” Jade swallowed the dryness in her throat, hoping to sound less raspy. Less pathetic. “I won’t sit around and watch you kill yourself. You have to start trying.”

Roy touched her knee, giving a light squeeze. “You can’t leave. I need you.”

She nodded, hoping that he meant it this time. “Okay.”

Star City July 17th 8:12 PST Team Year Eight

Jade gave Will a lot of shit, and enjoyed nitpicking on the little things. Like his sense of style, and his taste in cereal. How could anyone blame her? The crap he ate tasted like flakes of cardboard. To his credit, however, she’d admit that he was smart. For the most part, he was observant, and quite intelligent.

Not intelligent enough to remember that she never slept more than three hours at a time, but that worked to her advantage.

She liked hearing Will and Lian in the morning. With her breathing low and ears cocked to the conversation, she could make out almost everything. Will was good with their daughter. Jade wasn’t comfortable enough to say it to his face just yet, so she let herself indulge in this silent pleasure. He didn’t know she was doing it, and she got to lay in bed. Win-win, really.

This morning, however, Jade couldn’t quite make out what the two were up to in the bathroom. The room was just far enough away that their conversation remained murky. Very odd. Lian’s bathtime wasn’t until the evening. She pulled up every possibility, but couldn’t come up with an answer. Finally, she chalked it up to an impromptu need for a bath, and left it at that.

The smell of coffee permeated the bedroom, signalling to Jade that it was time to get up. She preferred tea, but Will drank coffee in the morning. So she drank it now too. The bitterness was nothing compared to the sweetness of their daughter’s smile. She pulled herself off the bed, grimacing at the creak it made. Sooner rather than later, she really needed to buy Will a new bed. Lian slept like a rock now, but that wouldn’t last forever.

A shriek came from the kitchen, followed by a stream of giggles. Will said something Jade couldn’t make out, but she let it slide. The two were having fun.

Jade touched a photo on the nightstand, Lian and Will on a trip to the beach. Lian’s face was covered in pink ice cream, and Will looked so at ease. That’s what made her happiest in all of this. Whether she lived with them or not, their daughter brought him ease. Just for that, she was sure that having her was the best decision she’d ever made.

After brushing her teeth, she ambled to the kitchen, taking her time and letting the smell of coffee fill her nostrils. Despite the taste, the smell was one of her favorites. It smelled like home, this home, and nothing of the past.

Jade lingered in the doorway, watching as Will held Lian in one arm while he cooked breakfast. Any second, he’d notice her there. Until then, she was content to wait, and watch.

Metropolis January 28th 2:59 EST Team Year Five

Jade’s bags had been packed for days, but something held her back from leaving. Lawrence had always called her dumb for a reason. There was a nagging feeling inside her, wanting, needing to give him another chance.

But Roy didn’t even see her anymore.

He was all too consumed by his search, an impossible search for a boy who probably perished long ago. He didn’t see how she needed him. How much he mattered. Perhaps he never would, and it was time that she realized that.

She’d done everything in her power to help him. It pained her to give up, but what could she do? Roy was too far gone now, too obsessed. Once upon a time, she thought she could help him. Maybe even save him. At this point it seemed only finding the real Roy Harper would save hers, and that was a mission she could no longer help with.

And neither could the baby growing within her.

Jade didn’t know what she was going to do about it, but staying with Roy was no longer an option. She began spending more time away from him. Her old contacts set her up with quiet gigs, ones where she could make easy money without alerting anyone to Cheshire’s resurfaced presence. If Roy noticed, he said nothing.

On the day that marked her officially one month along, she decided it was time. There was no plan, nowhere for her to go, really. Paula might have her, if she told her she was pregnant. It would be nice to see her again, even just for a couple of days. Jade was near-certain that she’d throw her out after telling her she was going to abort the baby, but she’d savor the time before that.

She entered their apartment for the last time, fully ready to grab her things and leave. The lights were on. Roy’s laptop sat on the coffee-table, closed. Her ears twitched, hearing the tap close in the kitchen.

Jade kept her hand nestled in her jacket, fully prepared to whip out a katana at a moment’s notice. Without making a sound, she crept to the kitchen, pausing when she was right by the doorway. Something sizzled on the stove. A song was playing, one she’d heard before.

“It’s just me, Jade. Put the weapons away.”

Scowling, she lowered the katana before entering the kitchen. It was almost as if she were dreaming. Roy stood by the stove, stirring a pot. The kitchen was clean. He put the music on pause before looking at her. “Hungry?” “I could eat.”

“It’s nothing fancy, I just reheated some soup. You liked the soup from the bodega down the street, right?”

Jade swallowed. With no time to waste, she grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him ravenously. When was the last time she’d done this? Weeks? Maybe even months. He returned the passion, and for that she was grateful.

When they had their fill, Roy asked her if she could pull another lead from her contacts. There were new track marks on his arms. He must have been coming off a high.

“Yeah,” she said, hiding the thickness in her throat a little too well. “I’ll get us a new lead, Red.”

His smile almost changed her mind, convinced her to stay. But the broken man in front of her could no longer be fixed; not by her, at least. When he fell asleep, she rested a hand on her stomach and let out a deep breath. A child deserved a real father. A father who would take care of them, and love them. Right now, Roy wasn’t capable of that. Neither was she.

Jade lifted a hand to his face, caressing his cheek like she’d done so many times before. He didn’t stir, and for that she was grateful. In another world, maybe they could have been a family. Maybe she’d even consider keeping the baby, if he wanted it. He had the makings of a good father, deep down.

One last kiss, and she let him go.

Star City July 17th 8:17 PST Team Year Eight

“I’m hungry,” Lian groaned for the sixth time since Will started making breakfast.

He sighed, flipping a pancake over and resisting the urge to rub his temple. “I’m aware. I promise, the pancakes will be ready soon.” A tortured groan followed, and he sighed. “If I give you a donut, are you still going to eat pancakes?”

“Yeah.”

Will shot her a look, narrowing his eyes. “Promise?”

“Uhuh.”

“Fine. You can have one donut, Lian. But just one,” Will warned, going to the box and taking out a chocolate-covered concoction. It was a mistake ever buying these in the first place. If Jade knew he was feeding their daughter boxed donuts, she’d certainly have something to say about it. Lian cheered and took the donut in her hands, immediately setting to lick the sprinkles off. Her father watched her, wondering if he’d ever been that happy at such a simple task. “When you get tired of the sprinkles, do you want to help make the pancakes?”

Upon getting her approval, Will picked her up in one arm, careful of the coffee he was holding with the other hand. It wasn’t often that he did this with her, given their hectic mornings between daycare, Bowhunter, and whatever Jade had going on. But, he was off today, so why not? “Can Daddy have a bite?” he asked, trying to give a pout of his own.

With a dramatic sigh, Lian nodded, holding out the donut and allowing him the smallest bite. “Thank you,” he said, mouth full. After a sip of coffee to wash it down, he handed her the spatula and instructed her on how to flip the pancakes. Today was a day for learning, it seemed. First shaving, then pancakes. He gave himself some ‘good dad’ points for that.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood and he allowed himself a little smirk. He didn’t have too many talents, but knowing when his wife was lurking was one he was particularly proud of. “Are you planning to lurk there forever, or are you going to set the table?”

“Neither. I want coffee.”

Lian turned her head when she heard her mother’s voice, giving her a wave. “Hi Mommy.”

“Hey kid.”

Will tensed as Jade drew nearer, giving Lian a quick kiss. He sensed her pause, and a shiver went down his spine as her eyes raked him up and down. Before he could stop her, she grabbed his arm and yanked him around so he was facing her. He cursed, grimacing as his coffee sloshed all over him. Lian laughed, but his her giggle in a donut.

“Jesus, Jade, I was holding coffee,” Will hissed, shooting her a glare. “You can’t just…” he trailed off, noticing her stare. In all the rush of making breakfast, he’d completely forgotten the reason behind her stare. It wasn’t until she caressed his jaw that he remembered.

“You shaved.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean you get to go and assault me. Give me a warning next time, Chesh,” he muttered, waiting for her to let go of his jaw.

Only, she didn’t. Jade took a step closer, her hand moving to his cheek and stroking the smoothness. Did she hate it? Will couldn’t tell, her expression remained neutral. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at him for such a long time. Certainly not since she’d returned home.

Finally, Jade smiled. Not a smirk, but soft, and genuine. “So handsome,” she purred. “Can’t believe you went through with it.”

A hot blush spread across Will’s cheeks, not used to such compliments from her. “Stop making such a big deal of it, I told you I would.”

“And so you did.” Before he could make any more complaints, Jade pulled him in for a kiss. For the briefest of moments, he forgot about everything else except the taste of her kiss. The pancakes were probably burning, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t often that she kissed him like this, and he was going to savor it.

“Ew, Mommy and Daddy are disgusting!”

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

Will and Jade broke apart, both of them glancing at their fuming toddler. “Gross,” she insisted, taking an angry bite of her donut. “No kissies.”

Jade chuckled, pressing another kiss to Will’s cheek before ruffling Lian’s hair. “Disgusting is a big word. Who taught you that, Kid?”

“Daddy.”

“Well, good on Daddy then.” Jade brushed past him towards the cabinet before grabbing the plates to set the table. Lian watched her go before shaking her head at Will, judging him with all the might of a toddler who hadn’t yet had breakfast. He acquiesced his daughter’s glare and returned to the attention of the pancakes, tossing the burnt one in the trash before starting anew.

Will held back on taking another sip of coffee, wanting the taste of Jade’s kiss to linger for just a little longer. The kiss wasn’t much, but it was as close to a declaration of love as she could give.

And for Will, it was more than enough.

#young justice #young justice outsiders #will harper #jade nguyen #lian harper #roy harper #pre s2 #post s3 #you know in the dream realm where they end up happy together #if only #this was so fun to write #thank you tessa #my love #I hope I gave someone feels writing this #I love writing depressed roy

[gaybastard2]

IDFC- Chapter 7- He’s Back

Text

[He's Back]

Warning: This chapter will contain gore and homophobic slurs

I stood up and stretched while we discussed who our favorite character from Heathers was. Mine was JD, he's a crazy motherfucker and I love him. Everyone was just fucking around and laughing. It was nice, it's been a while since everything was just calm. It was also nice with Travis. He's fucking adorable, like holy shit, how does he do that? He's a smart ass, but still. He's just so Travis. That doesn't make any sense but whatever.

Aggressive knocking from the door rang threw the room, making Sal flinch and Travis cringe. Both of them are kind of sensitive to loud noises. "I'll get it." I murmured, walking to the door. Who the fuck is trying to break the door down? Just as I approached the door it swung open, reveling a scowling , slim middle age man with short blonde hair and stubble on his chin. He wore an open, black suit jacket that showed his white button down shirt underneath. He had black slacks and black dress shoes. Basically, he looks like a jackass. My eyes lingered on a red stain at the bottom of his otherwise perfect shirt. Huh, that's kinda weird.

My eyes shoot up as he clears his throat obnoxiously, now sporting a plastic smile. I sighed, clearly annoyed, and leaned against the doorway, crossing my arms. "What do you want?" I asked, scowling. I know I'm probably being a dick, but I honestly don't give a shit. I just wanna get back to my friends and boyfriend.

His left eye twitched as his smile faltered for a second before going back to his fake-ass grin. He stuck out his hand as he spoke. "Well, young man, I believe my son is here. I would like if you would please bring him to me." He demanded gruffly. My eyes widened as I shot up from my lenient position on the doorframe. I pushed his hand back towards him.

"Sorry, your son isn't here. You can go now." I said quickly, beginning to shut the door. Kenneth stuck his foot in front on the door right before it closed. Shit. "I know he's here, Johnson." He growled, pushing the door open and walking in. Oh hell no.

"Get the fuck out!" I screamed as I kicked his stomach, pushing him back out the door. I quickly slammed the door shut and locked it before running back to the living room, trying to ignore the booming voice from the door. I ran up to Travis and cupped his face gently. "Travis, your dad, he's here. Go to the bathroom and lock the door. I promise, I'll keep you safe." I explained in a hushed tone,

He gasped, nodded, and quickly pecked my lips before shakily running to the bathroom and hopefully locking it. I turned to Sal and Ashley. "It's Kenneth. Sal, please go grab the bats from my closet. Ash, go and try and keep the door closed." They both nodded. Sal ran to my room to grab my bat and Ash ran to the door and leaned all her weight against it as Kenneth repeatedly kicked it.

Soon enough Sal ran back into the room, holding two metal bats. He handed one of them to me as we approached the door. We knew that Ash could only hold the door for so long before the grown man would fucking kick it off it's hinges. After a few more kicks from Kenneth, Ash was launched forward onto the floor as the door was finally knocked off its hinges. I looked over at Sal. Fear and anger was prominent in his eyes, even with his emotionless mask. His grip tightened on his bat as his arms slightly shook.

We had done some research and came to the conclusion that Kenneth Phelps was most likely a cult leader for the Devourers of God. Sal thinks that he's the person that killed his mom and disfigured his face. We also now know he physically and mentally abused Travis. Yeah, this man is scum of the goddamn world. I took a step closer. "Listen, if you don't get the fuck out, I swear to whatever god there is-" Before I could even finish my sentence, Sal launched himself towards Kenneth, bat first, aiming for his head.

Apparently Sal's aim isn't the best because he missed and hit Kenneth's shoulder. He merely winced before yanking one of Sal's pigtails upward and right hooking the side of his head. He yelled in pain, dropping his bat as he tried to break free. Kenneth repeatedly punched the side of Sal's head again, ignoring his screams, until he went limp, his screams stopping.

All I could do was stare. I physically couldn't move. The boy that's basically my brother just got beat till he was unconscious, unmoving in this bastard's hands. Silent tears ran down my cheeks. Kenneth chucked Sal onto to the ground next to me, laughing slightly. I turned to him, shaking. "S-Sal? Are..are you okay?" I got no response. Blood was oozing out the bottom of his mask and the side. "Sal....please..a-are you.." I started, my voice shaky.

My eyes went to his chest. It was rising and falling slowly. I sighed in relief and turned back to Kenneth, holding my bat higher. Then we heard a loud sob from my bathroom. Shit, Travis is still there. My grip tightened on my bat. I need to protect him. His head jerks to the bathroom and he smiles sickeningly. "I can hear you, faggot!" Kenneth yelled. I looked behind him. Ashley was laying on the ground, unconscious. She shifted slightly, beginning to gain consciousness. Fuck, I hope she wakes up soon, Sal needs help. I took a deep breath.

"If you even think about touching him or any of my friends, I will bash your goddamn skull in." I threatened. He snorted and made eye contact with me. "Go ahead. I wanna see what you can do." He has this sadist look in his eyes when he said that. I don't know what he has planned, but goddamn I'm pissed. I ran forward and swung my bat, praying to hit his head.

The edge of my bat did end up hitting his temple, sending him stumbling to the side. The hit opened a small gash in the side of his head. Blood trickled down his face as he laughed hysterically, his eyes both far off and manic at the same time. I slowly backed up, worried what he was doing, blood dripping off the end of my bat. Kenneth clutched his side as his body shook with laughter. Oh goddamn he’s crazy. The sobbing from the bathroom was getting louder, only making him more hysterical. I need to get Travis out of this situation, Sal needs help, and Ashley needs to wake up. I’m at a fucking loss. This whole situation is a cluster-fuck.

After Kenneth finally stopped laughing, he opened one side of his suit jacket, shakily reached hand in, and pulled out a revolver. I went stock-still. Holy shit. I dropped my bat. I was paralyzed. My mind was racing as he raised his arm up and cocked the gun. He smiled once again.

“Bye bye, Johnson.” Kenneth said quietly, his voice unsettlingly calm. He pulled the trigger, aiming for my chest. I tried to jump out of the way, but I was a bit too late. I felt a piercing pain in my shoulder, almost white hot, feeling worse by the second. Oh my fuck. I shrieked in agony as the world spun around me. The pain was almost numbing. I was shaking and hyperventilating, my heart pounding in my ears. My legs gave out and I fell to the floor.

I felt hot liquid running down my chest and staining my Sanity Falls shirt. I brought my hand to my shoulder and the liquid, biting back a scream as my hand grazed the wound. I shakily brought my hand back to my line of sight to see scarlet blood coating my finger tips. I turned my head to look behind me. There was a bloody bullet laying on the ground. Oh my god, it went though my shoulder, and I have no fucking idea if that’s a good thing or not.

Holy shit, this is it. This is how I die. My best friend badly injured next to me, my other best friend unconscious behind a piece of shit man and could wake up at any point, and my dear boyfriend stuck in a bathroom, his awful father right outside. My mother is going to come home to her dead son, or even worse, this motherfucker.

Hot tears cascaded down my cheeks as my body rocked with sobs. “Your fucking pathetic.” Kenneth spat. He then turned to Ash, who was now awake and crying hysterically, and smiled. “Time to get rid of the witness.” Then the door to my left opened, and I almost forgot about my pain, almost. What I assumed was a fucking angel walked out of the door. Oh wait, that’s just Travis. Eh, same thing. He gasped and cupped his hand over his mouth.

“Lar-Larry, please, p-please...be-be okay! Please don’t l-leave me!” He whispered, his voice barely audible. Tears starting to stream down his cheeks and he shook uncontrollably as his eyes stayed on my shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry, I-I’m sure I’m gonna-gonna be fine” I whispered weakly. God I hope I’m right. My head was dangerously dizzy. Travis sobbed quietly, only getting louder when he saw Sal.

He quickly took off his sweater and kneeled next to me. He speedily wrapped it around my wound and tied it to stop me from loosing more blood, murmuring quit apologies when I wince. Travis kissed me gently and pulled away. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, more tears running down his cheeks as he pushed a piece of hair behind my ear. It killed me to see him like this, especially with the hot pain in my shoulder. I kissed him, cupping his cheek gently when he kissed back.

He pulled away carefully and turned his head to see Kenneth yanking Ashley’s hair up. Travis gasped and went bright red with anger. He stood up and looked down at the bat next to me, the blood now dried on it. Travis picked it up and before I could object, silently approached his father from behind.

“Trav, please be careful..” I whispered to myself as he crept closer to Kenneth.

#sally face #larry x travis #larvis #trarry #larry johnson #laravis #larry face #my writing #sal fisher #travis phelps #travis x larry #idfc #ashley campbell

[0idril0]

Evan & Clint 11

I’m sorry this took me a little longer 😭 thanks @whumpywhumper for beta reading, thanks @captivity-whump for taking a look at one section for me, y’all help so much. @comfy-whumpee this is like seeping with Clint action, you’re gonna love it, and I’m tagging you @whumpitywhumpwhump because your comments give me life

Read the rest of the series or you won’t know what’s going on, expecially part 10 

Check out this link for a photo that represents what out resident were looks like shift , i couldn’t figure out who to give credit for the photo though :( (BTW he’s red not grey but yall get the idea) 

———————————————————————

As Martin spoke, Evan wanted to shake the man. This isn’t the time for your fucking ideals. He wrapped more magic around Clint, restraining the wolf’s anger, and his own, before they ruined the likelihood of Martin helping.

Crackling breaths had turned jagged and slow, the plastic oxygen mask knocked askew, leaving Nico’s face a sickly grey blue. The boy had entered respiratory death.

“I guess I’ll have to let you learn on your own.”

Evan hissed as Brian and Kristy approached Clint, barely aborting his leap towards them. Instinct told him to stay away from the werewolf, and he could see that reflected in the other supernatural’s faces. But the siren had never been good at keeping his distance. Brian’s face was white, lips pale where they pressed together as he took another step closer to Clint.

Kristy had tucked herself close to Brian’s back, half hiding behind him, but it was her delicate hand that reached for the wolf.

“Clint, he’s going to help, okay? Just, let him touch him?” Brian’s voice was loud in the quiet room.

Tears stained Clint’s cheeks as he looked towards the pair, and Evan felt compassion pull at him. Clint’s mouth worked briefly before he rubbed cheek against Nico’s hair, the black hair catching on thick bristles, as he laid the boy down. “O—okay.”

Evan rocked on his heels as Clint knelt beside the table. This was a mess. He’d never seen Martin like this, but then he’d never asked him to heal a human either. Anytime he’d had problems in the past, whether it be a sick friend or a dog bite, the man had dropped everything to be there. He didn’t understand what was wrong with him.

When Martin’s magic made contact with Nico’s bandaged chest, a few strands of his magic snapped. As the magic loosened, Clint’s wolf pressed against the intricately braided lines, testing the give. It waited impatiently, stalking as it looked for weaknesses. Be calm. He pushed his magic into the words, willing the wolf into submission.

He’d never needed to try controlling Clint before, never had a reason. Now, he wished he’d had a reason. This was nothing like controlling an animal, not even like controlling the purely supernatural animals he’d seen. The wolf was smart, silent as it struggled against the bindings, learning and testing him. It was terrifying.

He pushed back against the magic and focused on Martin as the man’s magic started to gather in the air. It sizzled against the skin, feeling like a flash burn or an electric charge. Nico’s muscles jumped against the magic, involuntarily clenching.

Evan saw when the true seizure started. Nico’s eyes flickered, bouncing back and forth in his skull like a ping pong ball, the previously slack jaw clenching, teeth grinding together. Evan winced when Nico let out a small moan, his breath gurgling through thick pink foam as Nico’s chest clenched, barely moving. His back arched, matted hair sliding against the sweat soaked blanket as his muscles quivered. Fresh blood bloomed against the bandages encasing Nico’s chest as the magic made the boy tremble, staining Martin’s hands red where they forced the green magic into his chest and belly. Evan rushed forward as Nico’s head bounced against the quilts, holding it in place as best he could against the onslaught.

He subtly pressed a finger to Nico’s neck, feeling for a pulse. It flickered against his fingers, trying to hide in the quaking muscles. Come on buddy, you can do this, use the magic.

The table groaned, and Evan could see Clint’s claws driving rivets into the metal. Metal snapped, and Evan cringed as Clint’s blood joined Nico’s on the floor.

A short eternity passed as he watched Martin’s magic crackle along Nico’s torso, he could see sweat forming along the man’s brow and iridescent green flashed in mud brown eyes. Worry pounded through him as he watched the furrow in Martin’s brow grow deeper, the man’s eyes slowly widening in a confused dread. 

Evan leaned towards the mage, hissing. “Martin, wha-?” He flinched, cutting himself of as Nico moaned,barely more than a small gurgle, in his hands. He pressed a finger back against Nico’s now limp neck, and felt his blood freeze.

“Nonono....” Clint’s voice shattered, and a broken scream ripped through the room.

Fuck. Releasing Nico’s head, Evan turned to the two young supernaturals hiding in the corner. “Move.” He grabbed their wrists, jerking them from their hiding place towards the partially open door as Clint’s scream turned to a roar.

***

Blood pounded in Clint’s ears as the world shook around him. Gonegonegone. The flickering presence that had entranced him for such a short period wasn’t there.

He should have told him sooner. Should have found him. Should have been able to love him. His heart tore, and he wailed, loud pops drowning out the sound as his body shifted. Skin itching as fur scratched at his human form.

Gone. He’s gone. He heaved for air, sobs wracking his body as it shivered and cracked.

Metal crashed against the ground beside him, and he whipped his elongating snout towards the sound, bass growl rumbling through his chest. Martin.

Rage coursed through him as he crouched, slowly stalking around the table. The table holding Nico’s body.

The brunette stood with his hands in front of him, magic floating through his splayed fingers.

“Clint—“

He roared, mouth ill suited for speech. Supposed to help. Where were you?!

The brunet flinched, backing into the cabinets. “Listen, this wasn’t—“ Clint slammed against the back wall, howling as the the resulting crash disrupted Nico’s still frame. Cloth ripped as his form stretched, and he shook himself free of the fabric, discarding it in a useless heap.

“Hurt him.” His soul roared, trying to push the thought into Martin. To make him understand anguish.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Clint cocked his head at the mages words, waiting. “There’s, there’s a reason it didn’t work. ” Martin’s voice was strangled as he took another hesitant step towards the door. “Humans aren’t made for magic, we aren’t made to mix with them.” The man’s heart sped at the statement, lie clear. Shock made Clint freeze, realization dawning. Why hadn’t he seen it earlier?!

“Uuuu.” You. Clint snarled, saliva dripping down his exposed canines. Martin’s face hardened, the scent of his fear still thick in the air.

“He was a danger to all of you. But he wasn’t supposed to die. I had bigger plans for him.” The world narrowed as Clint’s roar rattled the walls.

Thicker russet fur sprouted along his back as he sprung towards the mage, tail whipping through the air was he scrambled for balance.

Martin bolted, slamming against the the door jam just as Clint’s claws tore the frame from the wall.

“Kill you for taking him.”

Martin threw magic behind him as he ran, slamming against the hallway walls. The first bolt struck Clint in the chest, and he grunted at the resulting wave of vertigo. He dug his claws into the walls, throwing himself forward and through another bolt of energy, his fur caught it, scattering the energy through the long hallway.

The braying of dogs as they tore through the kennels made him throw his head back in a howl, blood pounding through him as he hunted.

He snarled as he finished shifting, his full were form breaking the concrete floors as he gained on the retreating mage. Magic crackled in the air, catching on his fur as he slashed at Martin’s back. Crying out, the mage fell through the propped open doors, blood spattering onto the asphalt.

The mage skidded across the half full lot, propelled by the blow from Clint’s claws. Martin flipped, landing on his back. The steel door flew from its hinges as Clint crashed out of the building.

Clint chuffed, focused entirely on the downed figure. He bound towards the man with a thundering growl, vocal cords ripping with the strain. He lept for the man, claws outstretched, intent on ripping the mage’s head from his shoulders.

Pain exploded in his side as his paws left the ground, and he yelped, air rushing from his lungs from the impact. He crashed into the asphalt, chunks of fur catching in the jagged ground. Clint shook himself, the sound of a revving engine distracting him momentarily from his goal.

Heaving for air, Clint pushed himself to his haunches, blood dripping down his snout. A large blue truck idled in front of him, caged front bent and stained with his blood. Licking the blood from his face he snarled at the driver, the thin man’s glare rolling off of him.

Martin moved in the corner of his eye, and he rumbled a growl, easily beating the truck’s volume. The truck revved again, tires spinning as it lurched towards him. Clint jumped out of the way, scraping his claws through the blue paint, rending the metal on the doors. It squealed, sliding on the asphalt. The passenger door rocked on its hinges as the man inside threw it open, another set of arms reaching out and practically picking the injured mage up. The truck didn’t stop, the passenger hauling Martin into the floorboard as it careened to the busy road.

Impotent rage made him howl, and he stumbled as he started forward, shoulder and side slick with new blood, leg unable to hold his weight. “I’ll get them, Baby. I promise.”

Clint whined, turning back towards Evan’s office. Back towards Nico.

#Nico Series #poor nico #poor clint #martins a dick #he's all like oops #oops doesn't cut it dickwad #anger #seizures #tw: death #magic #werewolf

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Starved (chapter 21)

Chapter 21 - Lost 

 “Saaaaammm? Sammy? Saaammmyyy…”

He could hear his father’s voice, but couldn’t tell where he was. The room was dark. Suddenly, a light came on and the room came into view.

He was sitting on his bed, just as he remembered.

Dean was beside him, unconscious, horrible purple bruises on his neck. Sam recoiled when he looked up and saw his father sitting beside him. He tried to back away, but he was unable to move.

“Yeah, I told you that you were mine, Sammy”

“Don’t call be that!” Sam spit out.

John grinned.

“Ok, Sammy. Well since Dean went ahead and did me the favor of turning me into a demon, I’m in charge now, alrighty? I’m gonna tuck you away for a while, now son. I’ll let you see and hear what’s going on though, that’s fair. But I’m in charge. I’m gonna be the best Sam, don’t you worry. Dean will totally believe it’s you. I know you inside and out, remember, Sammy?” he reached out and touched Sam’s cheek.

Sam just swallowed. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

“Trust me Sammy. I promise. You’ll experience things…differently. Sleep now, Sammy. I’ll wake you up when the fun begins.”

John snapped his fingers. Sam was enveloped in darkness.

***

“DEAN!! DEAN!!” The pounding on the door was getting louder.

“Kick it open!”

Two kicks later, all three adults were in the room.

Sam was curled in a ball at the top of the bed, his still naked body covered in blankets. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Below him was Dean. He had very large purple bruises on his neck. He was stretched out sideways at the bottom of the bed. His eyes were closed. His chest was not rising and falling.

“Is he breathing?” Bobby asked frantically. Rufus put his ear to Dean’s chest and listened.

“Yes, he’s breathing, but barely.”

Braven slowly wiggled his fingers and a baby blue mist came from his fingers and moved to settle over Dean. The mist floated inches above Dean’s mouth. He took a deep breath, inhaling all of it. Slowly, Dean began to breathe more deeply.  He blinked his eyes open. He sat up and rubbed his neck where the bruises were. Confused, he looked from one person to the next.

“Bobby? What ha-“

Bobby reached up and hit Dean in the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Idjit! Why the fuck did you lock the door?” Bobby yelled.

“I’m sorry Bobby, I just wanted to…”

“Yeah I know what you wanted, boy. But right now all y’all need protection. Locking doors ain’t safe.”

Dean blushed and sputtered, “No, it wasn’t…I mean I…no, I made some tea and I wanted to not be interrupted, but…John came and…” he looked at Sam sadly, “He strangled me until I passed out.”

Rufus patted his pockets, looking for the booklet, and swore,

“Dammit Dean, some of these are really potent. Which one did you do?” His voice was insistent, worried. “It’s important Dean, I need to make sure of what you did.”

Dean showed him which one he’d made and that he was 100% sure he’d followed it exactly. Rufus deemed everything safe, with Braven concurring. And Dean getting a stern talking to about messing around with spells you don’t understand.

Dean looked at Braven and nodded. “Thanks…uh, for saving me.”

Raven just nodded and tipped the rim of his hat. Exactly like Bobby’s, Dean thought.

Bobby nudged Braven. “Tell Dean what you were telling me downstairs.”

Braven dug into his pocket and showed them the familiar picture of the scar John had. Dean nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what Sam has.” Dean nodded.

“But he doesn’t.” Braven shook his head “Look again.”

Dean looked from Sam to the picture and back again.

“It’s…backwards?”

Braven nodded. “Rufus noticed it yesterday.”

“Does that mean something?”

Braven nodded, a smile forming on his lips. It means it’s breakable. As in not irrevocable. We can undo this!”

Without warning, Sam flinched as his eyes turned black. “Not on my watch!” he yelled in Sam’s voice as he lunged forward.

However, there were four men who were able to hold him.

Bobby tied him down while Rufus, Braven, and Dean held him. Dean fought back tears as he had to shove his brother down twice before Bobby could secure him to the bed.

Suddenly, Sam stopped thrashing and just cried out, “Dean, help, please! I’m holding him back now, Let go!” The men let go and Sam sagged a little on the bed. He remained bound, however. 

“Sammy? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. It’s like he isn’t strong enough. He just can come through a little bit, hold me back, but I can…I can still fight him.”

Bobby looked skeptical. “Just for now Sam, I’d like to keep you tied up, ok? For everyone’s safety, ok? Just in case?”

Sam narrowed his eyes, but nodded. He pulled on the ropes, testing their tightness.

“He got mad when he heard it was breakable.” Sam muttered. He didn’t look up

“Well, it is, but we need two things. The witch that cast the spell, and we need a non-familial to break it.”

“Non-familial?” Dean asked.

“Yeah anyone but family – and really close friends, too. So…nobody here. Not even me, I’m not a stranger anymore to you Sam. I has to be someone you don’t know. And they can’t know what or why they are doing it. It must be completely innocent.”

“How the hell do we do that?”

“Well, that’s the easy part. The tough part? We need to find the witch.”

They painted a devil’s trap on the ceiling.  Bobby, Rufus, and Braven set out to find the witch. Braven used a location spell and is almost certain they can get to her. Dean waited with Sam.

After everyone was gone, and they were alone, Dean went upstairs with yet another cup of tea. This one was brewed by Braven before he left, who added an extra protection spell which, after swallowed, would be locked in for seven days. Guaranteed no nightmares. Dean knew Sam would appreciate that.

 Sam stayed tied on the bed. Dean saw him instinctively reach out to him when he walked in, but unable to get close. Sam let out a small sob. Dean sighed and set down the tea. “I’m so sorry baby. You know I don’t want this for you. You know it’s just to…”

“Just to stop me from turning into dad and killing you, yeah.”

“Hey, come on now.” He tucked his finger under Sam’s chin, drawing him closer.

 Dean leaned in and kissed Sam on the forehead. “Let me hold you, ok?” He lay down on his back and pulled Sam close. He was scared. Sam was here, right here in his arms…but so was his dad. Sam said he had control, but they needed to be careful. But Dean sensed no hesitation as he ran his fingers through Sam’s hair.  So he wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly. He fell asleep feeling content.

***

Sam sat up and looked at Dean sleeping peacefully beside him. He smiled as his eyes blinked black.

“See, Sam? Told ya they’d believe me. Whimpering, scared Sam. I made a very good impression, yeah? Enough for them to loosen these ropes. He pulled his right arm in tightly and easily ripped the ropes from the bed. He untied himself the rest of the way and stood up, setting the ropes next to Dean.

 He quickly and quietly slipped on a pair of Sam’s jeans from his duffle. He buckled the belt and noticed Sam had gained a little weight. He ran his hands down his torso, admiring himself in the mirror.

“Yeah, Sammy, I can see why he wanted you, too. This is…this is nice…” Sam ran his hand down his stomach, stopping at his belt. He carefully teased the skin above then hem. “Oh yeah, that’s good...Later, though. No time now.”

When he finished getting dressed and tried to walk out the bedroom door, he was stopped by something unseen. “Son of a bitch,” he said, looking up. He merely closed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. He jabbed his head to the right quickly. A crack appeared in the ceiling that ran down the wall a few feet. He turned back to Dean and laughed. “Too easy.”

 John paused. “Sammy? I’m gonna let you tell your brother goodbye. But if you say or do anything else, I will possess your brother instead and make him break your neck. Do you understand?”

Inside, Sam acknowledged. John let him take control, but left one hand on the wheel.

“Goodbye Dean. I love you so much.” He kissed Dean on the cheek and John immediately pulled him back into the darkness. “That’s it. All done.”

John wandered around the house, whistling to himself. Since Sam knew where things were, John did too.

He picked up several supplies, including a few f Bobby’s guns and several bottles of whiskey. He picked up Rufus’ book along with some other books from Bobby’s library.

“I suppose I gotta feed you now, since I need you to live,” he said out loud as he looked in the mirror again. He took what he could from the pantry and kitchen. He left scarcely anything useful for the rest of them.

He found a useable car among the many Bobby kept on his lot. It was a pile of crap but it would get him out of town, where he could steal another car easily. Much more easily now that he didn’t have another person to drag around beside him. Yeah, this was perfect, John thought as Sam’s hands grabbed the steering wheel and he drove off into the night.

***

Dean woke up to an empty bed and a pile of ropes. His cell phone was gone.

The cup of tea, now cold – and still full – sat on the nightstand.

He was alone.

“Sam?!” he jumped out of bed. He ran down the hall, swinging open doors. Dean ran around the house, crying out, over and over, “No! No, not Sam, no. Sammy, please be here, please. Sam. Sam, no. No! No!” But there was no response. He looked outside, up and down rows of cars. He stopped dead when he saw the fresh tire tracks and an empty space where a Corolla used to be. Dean fell to his knees in the mud.

His brother was gone.

Starved taglist:

@charliebradbury1104, @sammys-dimpless, @adsp-wincestj2, @vania-montoya, @ netaelex,   @bobbie3939 @mtngirlforever @dontknowmyname215 @j2sunflowerbaby @ alex2029

#CYIDaddy #wincest #weecest #angst #Starved

[heartofsnark]

Hunting Ground (Vincent/MC Non-con)

Notes: Holy fuck, this is not for the faint of heart.  This is my first Boyfriend To Death fic on this blog and it’s also a birthday fic for my friend @piplup235, I’m really happy she wanted Vincent because holy shit this is something I’ve been wanting to write for a while.  Also, it’s been a while since I played BTD, so if Vincent is at all OOC, I’m sorry. 

Summary:  Vincent’s latest hookup discovered some literal skeletons in his closet and took off running, not a great idea. 

Pairing:  Vincent/Cis-Female MC 

Word Count: 1986

Warnings (Oh boy):  Non-consensual sex and sexual acts, fingering, violence, threats, humiliation, shame, minor blood, watersports (it’s piss wolf, my dudes), fetishized non-con

~Please if any of that makes you uncomfortable or triggers you, do not read. If you are someone who struggles to separate reality and fiction, do not read. This is fetishized non-con, it does not go over the full gravity of the situation and what is being done to the MC. Writing this does not mean I condone or endorse any of these behaviors in real life. Further more, if you are someone who regularly follows my blog but doesn’t want to see this kind of content at all, please blacklist or filter the tag ‘tw: noncon’~

Her breaths are ragged, her lungs burn with every frantic step. The forest ground is soft and muddy under her feet, slowing her down, like nature itself is trying to stop her from escaping. Branches and bramble scratch at her arms as she runs, the stinging pain just an irritant at the moment.

It was suppose to just be a fun hookup, a hot guy in a rough looking bar, a chance to get off then move on with her life. Then she saw the skull, she knew it was real, nothing smooth or plastic about it. That and his reaction, the way his expression darkened and he went to grab her. Instinct kicked in and she ran. She has no idea where she’s going or where she is, the area unfamiliar, but she knows she needs to get away.

 Her heart pounds in her chest, beating against her ribs. It might be paranoia or real danger, but she swears she can feel something just behind her. Something just ready to grab her. She can’t hear anything but her own breaths and heartbeats, has no idea if he’s chased her this far, but she can feel it. The hair on the back of her neck standing on end, a constant threat looming just behind her.

Something slams against her back, a heavy weight forcing her to the mud below. She doesn’t even have time to brace herself, face hitting the muck, the taste of rainwater and dirt heavy on her tongue.

“Really thought you could get away that easy?” A masculine voice, thick with a southern accent, taunt against her ear. The voice that turned it on just a few hours ago, makes every fiber of her being scream at her to run.

She tries to squirm out from under him, it’s all for nothing. He’s too heavy, pounds of muscle keep her firmly pinned and the mud prevents any hope of gaining traction.

“You’re not that bright, are you? Hate to break it to you, but all that running and struggling did was make me harder.”

He grinds his hips into her ass, his cock hard and hot against her. Her body betrays her; heat pools between her thighs and she can feel how wet she’s getting. She can’t seriously be getting off to this, her face flushes hot and she curses her body for it’s shameful reaction.

One of his hands stays firm on the back of her neck, he could easily break her neck with one hand. His other drags down her back as he pulls the mass of his body off her, just enough for her feel the cool wind on her back, but his warmth is still there against her ass and thighs.

She gasps the movement leaves superficial scratches down her skin, just enough to sting. His hand pulls away just before it drags down the curve of her ass, then his other lifts off of her neck. He’s still sitting on her thighs, she able to move her arms out from under her body, maybe she can grab a rock and-

The sound of fabric ripping is follow by cool air against her ass, she cranes her neck to look over her shoulder as Vincent rips and tears off what he can of her jeans, exposing her ass.

Her heart catches in her throat and she she tries to escape from under him again, the reality of what he’s going to do hits her full force. A throaty grunt leaves Vincent’s throat as her ass rubs against his hard on as she struggles. He grabs her hips, sharp nails digging into the tender skin and yanks back.

He’s able to move her like a rag-doll, putting her in the position he wants, ripping away what’s left of her jeans and her panties in the process. Every squirm to get away does nothing but make him groan and get rougher with her. Cuts from his nails mar her ass and hips, some small scratches while others are little punctures from where he’s gripped her tight.

He’s lifted her on her knees, ass high in the air while her face stays to the ground, like he’s making her present to him. The night breeze feels ice cold against her cunt, her hot slick cooling against her thighs. One of his hands stays firm on her hip to keep her in place.

“Looks like this little escape attempt turned you on too,” he taunt, pushing two thick fingers into her, “fuck, I think you’re actually wetter this time. Y’know, if you needed me to be rougher, all you had to do was ask.”

He pumps his fingers as he talks, every word and movement sending making her gush slick. Vincent already knows she can take him, which means he’s more interested in dragging this whole experience out than preparing her. Her pleasure is building higher and higher, tension stretching tight inside of her. She whimpers, she doesn’t want to cum, but her body is begging her to ride it out. Her hips try to grind, but his grip keeps her from fucking herself on his fingers.

Vincent pulls his fingers out and she whines at the loss despite herself. She brings a hand up to cover her mouth, she can’t control how wet she gets or how desperate her body is for orgasm, but maybe she can least keep herself quiet. The fingers that were just deep inside of her wrap around her wrist before she can fully cover her mouth, his grip is tight and firm.

“I’m gonna hear you scream, no matter what. It can be while you’re wrapped around my cock or ‘cause I broke every bone in your body, got it?”

“...yes,” she murmurs and relaxes her wrist. He lets go so her hand falls limply to the side, a few more bruises to show for it, but not broken.

He reaffirms the grip on her hips, quickly unzips his pants just enough to pull his cock out and lines himself up with her cunt, the head just brushing the lips of her sex. She barely gets a moment to prepare before he thrusts into her, a scream rips it way through her throat. It doesn’t matter how slick she is, his cock is huge and the initial stretch stings. He pushes in as far as he can, his full length deep inside of her.

She doesn’t get even a second to catch her breath before he starts fucking into her. The deep hard thrusts rekindles her building pleasure, that had just barely started to ease. Each thrust harshly hits a spot deep inside of her, dragging over every sensitive nerve inside of her. The side of her face grinds into the mud with the force of his movement, she can’t stop moaning, her noises mingling with the sound of his hips hitting her ass every time he thrusts into her.

Her nails dig into the muck, the tension inside of her stretching tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each thrust. Somehow his pace gets harsher, hitting that spot harder than she thought possible and her pleasure hits it’s tipping point.

Her cunt clenches like it’s trying to milk him dry and her loud scream of Vincent’s name echos through the woods. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she feels disgusting for yelling his name, for giving him that ego boost when he’s done something so vile. But, the orgasmic fog over her brain doesn’t let her dwell on it, instead focusing on how his pace has gone from harsh to absolutely brutal.

He fucks her through her climax, making it last even longer. Her cunt is sensitive, but it doesn’t stop him, not that anything would. He’s chasing his own pleasure, just using her body as a means of getting off, of fucking through all of his rage and taking all of his aggression out on her slick sensitive hole.

Something between a snarl and a howl escapes Vincent’s mouth, his body wrought with tension as he cums inside of her. Load after load of hot cum fills her up. Despite, the tight fit of his cock splitting her open it’s just too much, his cum overflows her cunt and leaks down from where they’re connected.

It suddenly feels too quiet, just the sounds of them both breathing heavy. She still needs to escape, but she doesn’t know how. Fighting him is certain death and she clearly can’t outrun him. There’s a gross part of her that thinks maybe if this is what it’s going to be like, it won’t be so bad, maybe being his living fleshlight isn’t the worst thing in the world. She curses that part of her and writes it off as just a part of her riding off the high of her orgasm.

She yelps, all coherent thought ending as Vincent pulls out, a slow drag of his cock that still stimulates her sensitive body. This might have been a good chance to make another run for it, but she doesn’t think she can even stand, let alone run.

Her theory doesn’t even get to be tested, Vincent stands and puts a foot on her back. She can still crane her neck to watch him over her shoulder, even if she can’t move from the ground. His cock is still hanging out of his pants, smeared with cum, her mouth water more than she’d care to admit.

“Guess, I gotta make something clear,” he grumbles, aiming his now flaccid cock. What the hell is he do-

“Ahhh!” she yells out and tries to scramble away when she feels his piss hit her ass. It’s scalding hot compared to the cool air, the cuts on her skin burn as he empties his bladder directly on her, marking his territory.

“Fight too hard and I’ll make you drink it,” he threatens and she stiffens, completely still under his foot.

She’s whimpering as Vincent sighs, the stream of piss getting weaker under it ends. Her face is wet with tears and mud, her lower half a disgusting wet mess of cum and piss. All of the bodily fluids that cling to her are starting to cool out in the air, making her shiver. It was so hot she’d thought it’d burn her just a moment ago.

Vincent zips up his pants and pulls her up off the ground. Is he going to kill her now? Or just drag her back to keep torturing her ?

His movements are surprisingly gentle given what just happened, he gathers her in his arms and she wraps her own around his neck for stability. The position would be intimate if not for everything that just happened, if her ass and thighs weren’t coated in a mixture of cum and piss. The mess he made of her didn’t seem to phase him as began taking her back to his house. Every instinct in her told her to fight or run, but she’s far too weak, her thought fading to blackness as she passes out in his arms.

#boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death 2 #btd2 #btd #btd vincent #vincent metzger #tw: noncon #tw: violence