#and i just want to lie down in fetal position in a dark room and cry a little

[sherlockig]

-

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon – 001

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1.7k

Warm water trickles your skin, washing away your filth. Physically you weren’t dirty, but subconsciously you felt that way; you’re curled up in the fetal position on the bathtub floor, as still as a frightened rabbit. Your body felt numb, and you envisioned yourself anywhere but where you were now.

You had been laying in this position for about 20 minutes now. You knew eventually you’d have to get up. You didn’t want the wrath of your stepmother banging on the door shouting about how you were running up the water bill.

You finally find your strength to get up, turning off the water. You sit for a few more minutes in silence. It was quiet in the house. You figured your stepmother had gone to bed. You grab your towel from atop of the toilet tank, standing up to wrap it around your body.

You step onto the shaggy rug outside of the tub, drying your feet off. Last thing you wanted to hear was complaints about how you left the floor wet. Your stepmom would bitch about anything if she could.

You open the door, peeking your head out to make sure she wasn’t walking around the hallway. It was radio silence, and dark. You shuffle down to your bedroom, your feet pattering against the hardwood floors. You notice your stepmother’s bedroom door was closed, officially confirming that she was indeed asleep.

You softly close your bedroom door behind you, letting out a meek sigh. You dry yourself off, quickly trying to change so you could head out for the night. You needed the fresh air. You felt suffocated the longer you stayed in here. You grab your set of house keys from your nightstand, leaving back out of your bedroom. You tiptoe past your stepmom’s room, making your way into the living room.

You slipped on your shoes that were sitting by the front door, and you were almost home free until you heard her voice. “Going somewhere?” You jump in surprise, the lights suddenly flicked on to reveal your stepmother sitting at the dining room table. She’s sitting with a bottle of tequila on the table, the glass she was drinking it from in her hands. She was drunk to all hell.

“I’m– I’m just going for a walk…” You stutter, timidly. She scoffs. “Don’t lie to me. You’re going to those trailer parks to see that hillbilly Dixon boy, aren’t you?” You don’t respond, and she snickers. “Those boys ain’t nothin’ but trouble. I don’t see why you even go over there. What’re you doing? Letting them run a train on you?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, holding back your tears. “I’m just going for a walk.” You repeat, opening your front door to leave. “Make sure you get your money's worth, you slut!” She shouts. You slam the door behind you, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

You stuff your hands in the pockets of your sweater as you make your way to the trailer parks. It wasn’t too far from where you lived, probably like a 20 minute walk if you had to estimate it.

Your best friend Daryl Dixon, who you were on your way to see, used to live a couple blocks down from you. That was before the house fire that claimed the life of his mother happened. Now he, his older brother Merle, and their father Will were living in a shaggy trailer park neighborhood.

“Right where they belonged” your stepmother would say. You make it to the trailer parks, walking through until you get to the Dixon residence. You notice their lights were on, meaning they were likely awake. As you readied yourself to walk up the stairs, the sound of a loud crash makes you freeze. “You ever talk to me like that again, boy, I’ll make you wish you died in that fire too. Ya hear me?!”

Will Dixon could be heard yelling from inside. A pretty normal occurrence for the Dixon home. “Man, get off me!” You hear Daryl shout back, his heavy southern accent easy to distinguish. “You leave out that door boy, you can sleep out there tonight.”

“Like I give a damn!” The door is suddenly ripped open, and Daryl steps outside, slamming it close behind him. The brunette pauses as he sees you at the end of the stairs, staring up at him. He’s quiet for a moment. “You heard all that?” He asks, coming down the steps towards you.

“Just the end of it.” You say. You notice there’s a cut on his lower lip. Your eyebrows knit together in concern as you reach up, letting your thumb gently brush over the wound. “Your lip’s busted.” You frown. Daryl winced, moving his head back from your touch.

“To hell with it.” He mutters. “Whad’ya doin’ here?”

Your head tips to the side slightly, and you give him a small smile. “I’m always here.”

You and Daryl sat without a word, your backs rested up against a southern magnolia tree in the woods. This was a spot you two always went when you wanted to get away from everything. It usually involves you both in silence listening to wildlife. You didn’t mind it. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words anyway. Hasn’t been since his mom’s death. Regardless of if you guys did talk or not, you were just happy to be in his presence.

“Merle’s in jail.” He disrupts the silence, picking a stick off the ground before he begins to break it apart piece by piece. Merle was always in jail so that didn’t surprise you one bit.

Both the Dixon boys weren’t strangers when it came to trouble, but Merle was the worst of the two. Anytime Daryl caught himself in any trouble with the law it came from dumb shit Merle dragged him into.

You truly couldn’t stand Merle, but you could never tell that to Daryl. His loyalty to his older brother was impeccable. You hope one day he could get out of that phase and come to the realization that Merle wasn’t good for him.

“What did he do this time?” You ask, not really needing to as you could guess that it probably involved him assaulting someone. He wasn’t exactly a people person. “He beat the hell outta some guy in a bar.”

‘Bingo. Right on the mark.’

“That brother of yours isn’t gonna be satisfied until he’s locked in there for life.” You mumbled. Daryl shoots you a look. “What? You can’t just go around beating people up without consequences. That’s not how the world works.”

“Asshole probably deserved it.” He murmured, chucking the stick. You roll your eyes, deciding not to push the subject any further. You hear Daryl wince, and you look over to see him messing around with the cut on his lip.

You dig in the pockets of your sweater in search of something you could wipe the blood off with. Great forces are on your side as you pull out an alcohol prep wipe. You often carried them around for moments like these. This isn’t the first time you’ve cleaned up a wound left on Daryl by his father, or even a wound on yourself.

You rip open the package before gently grabbing the brunette’s face to make him look over at you. “Hold still.” You say, placing the wipe on his open wound. He winces again, trying to move his head back but you don’t let him. “Oh cut it out you big baby, it’s not that bad. You don’t want it to get infected, do you?”

Daryl grumbles, but sits still to let you work. It’s quiet as you do, nothing but the sound of an owl hooting. You could feel Daryl’s eyes on you, and your focus shifts from his lip to his blue hues. “What?”

“That come from her?” He questions, nodding his head to the choke bruise on your neck. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before. You swallow a lump that was beginning to well up at the back of your throat and shake your head. “She had another guy come by today. This one was into choking…”

Daryl’s jaw clenched in anger. Every time he heard about the men your stepmother invited over he just wanted to go there himself to rid you of the burden once and for all. But he didn’t want to put you in a worse situation than you already were in. “You don’t deserve what she’s doin’ to you.”

“Neither do you.” You remark. “But that’s just our reality.”

“Don’t have to be.” He declared. You pull the wipe from his lip, deciding it was clean enough. You ball it up, tossing it wherever on the ground. “Done.” You smile faintly, moving on from the topic. You didn’t want to think about it right now. “S’gettin’ late,” he comments. “Want me to walk you back home?” He offers.

“What’re you gonna do?” You remember his dad telling him not to come back. You’d think that he truly didn’t mean that but even you knew that Will made sure there was no way Daryl could get back inside the house tonight. “I’ma come back here to sleep. Ain’t the first time my old man’s kicked me out. Damn sure ain’t gonna be the last.”

You nod. “Then it looks like I’m staying.” You insist, settling against the tree. Daryl shakes his head. “I don’t need you to-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off before he could argue. “I’m staying.” You lean your head against the tree, your eyes closing. Daryl stares at you for a moment. Your stubbornness amazed him sometimes. It was worse than his own, but he knew he couldn’t fight you when you made up your mind on something.

“Fine.” He says, settling against the tree along with you. You scoot a bit closer to the brunette, letting your head fall on his shoulder. He tenses a bit, but calms his nerves. His body relaxes underneath you.

“Hey.” Daryl mutters, unsure if you’re awake or fast asleep already. You hum in response. “You really ain’t gotta be here.” He tries once more to change your mind. You smile.

“I’m always here.”

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem

[miss-multi45]

Vengeance

Hoodie x Fem!Reader

Part 2 of 'Blackmail'

cw: blood, mentions of dead bodies, swearing/vulgarity, sloww burnn, objectification, sexual harassment, sexual themes, nightmares, reader has a tired breakdown (jus like me fr), romantic petnames, opeia being autistic and taking three hours to write it bc they zone out. enjoy, darlings.

When you woke up, it was cold.

You were in a bed, with the smell of rain and something else that you prayed it wasn't what you thought it was.

Sitting up, you saw that you were back home in your own bed, the hooded man nowhere in sight. But something was wrong.

Even though you felt safe and comfortable, you couldn't shake the feeling that screamed at you to get out. Everything was the same, the pillow you threw was on the floor. You even got out of bed and checked. Liam's gun was on the kitchen counter, Liam..

Liam.

Where was Liam's body..?

Suddenly, you heard footsteps echo from the direction of the bathroom. You scrambled back to your room, closing the door as quietly as humanly possible and sliding your whole body underneath the duvet.

Slapping a hand over your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed that he wouldn't come in here.

But fate wasn't on your side. The door opened, and you felt the bedsheets dip under Liam's bodyweight. Making your stomach turn, you felt his hand rubbing your waist.

"How'd you sleep, baby?"

His voice, a sickly sweet venom poisoning your senses and filling your brain with toxins that told you, 'no turning back now, your boyfriend is here.'

You stifled a sob, accepting your fate and peeling back the covers from your face.

As you laid eyes on his face, you noticed the unavoidable bullet wound right on his forehead. It wasn't dripping blood, but it was covered in it.

"Well, hello there. Have fun running off without me?"

-

You gasped as you woke up, body immediately shooting up before a headache kicked in and you fell back down again. Cradling your head, you scrunched up into fetal position and rubbed your temples to help with the pain.

Oh, thank God. It was only a nightmare. You thought, looking up at the dark log ceiling.

Ah, so you weren't back home. Instead in a small but very cozy log cabin that smelled of rain and a slight tinge of metal. If you were here, then where was that strange hooded man?

You decided not to dwell on the subject for too long, instead rolling over and going back to sleep.

Maybe 30 minutes later, you heard the door swing open and close, heavy footsteps making their way to where you were curled up. You were half asleep, the sensation of falling would bring you back into consciousness immediately.

A heavy hand on your hip made you stir, alongside an all to familiar male voice talking to you. "Wake up. If I can't lie in, neither can you."

Mentally rolling your eyes, you groggily turned over and opened your eyes a crack just to see the blurry colours of the red and black ski mask.

"There she is." You could hear his grin through his words.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, babe. You slept for a while." He grabbed your arms and hoisted you up, pushing your back against the wooded wall your bed was up against.

You must've been sleepily grimacing at him, because as soon as he propped his shotgun against the wall, he turned back to you with a "Fix that face right now."

Although you didn't exactly appreciate how commanding he was, you didn't want to feel a cold shotgun barrel against your head. So you dropped you head down and rubbed your eyes, making the discovery that you were only in a baggy t shirt that wasn't yours, and panties that thankfully were yours.

"What the.." you mumbled as you saw the outfit. But that confusion was quickly taken over by shock, because you knew damn well nobody else would have changed you.

"How much did you see?" You brought the blanket up to your chest, even though your clothes weren't inappropriate to wear to bed, Liam would say otherwise.

"Just enough." He said, even though you needed a lot more than that to feel reassured that he didn't do anything creepy to you.

"How much is 'just enough'?" You commented, slowly dropping the duvet from its place.

"Collabone, legs, shit that you'd get dress coded for. I took off your bra with your shirt still on, I may be a murderer but I'm not a weird incel." You breathed a sigh of relief, coming to the conclusion that it was fine to get out of bed and go to the bathroom.

"Um, where's the bathroom?" You muttered, you weren't still completely comfortable with whoever this strange man was.

"First door on the left." He said, beginning to clean his gun without looking up at you.

You closed the door behind you, opening the bathroom door and closing another door.

It wasn't a luxury bathroom, but it was pretty decent. It just looked like one you'd find in a static caravan, small but enough.

There was a small window, open enough for you to feel a cool breeze against your face and see the vast woodland landscape outside.

It was beautiful, the dark green pine trees wet with freshly fallen raindrops. Maybe you should live in the forest. It would be stress free, and maybe you would even get to be like Aurora and make some woodland friends.

Finishing up, you washed and dried your hands and went back to the bedroom. The man was still on the chair cleaning his gun, the bedroom window open.

You awkwardly stood in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of the baggy shirt while you waited for something to happen. You could at least use a change of clothes.

"You wanna tell me about that boyfriend of yours, babe?" His voice cut through the quiet atmosphere, interrupting your thoughts.

"What about him? You know about the nightmares?" You replied, unsure if you should complain about your newly dead boyfriend to the very man who killed him.

A moment of silence, he looks up at you. "No, I don't." He says, "How bad of a boyfriend was he if you're having fucking nightmares about him?"

You froze. Liam was a piece of shit, but you didn't like how long it took for you to notice that about him. It had taken you halfway through the regretful relationship to realise that he was human waste.

"Um, well.." you started, but you didn't know where to actually begin. He was just like those boyfriends you'd see women complain about. He was controlling, accusing, lying. A reprehensible dick.

"A stereotypical shitty boyfriend, I don't know why I stayed with him for that long." He finished cleaning and loading his gun, putting it to one side as he stood from his seat.

God, he was tall. And brawny, too. Even though he was wearing that baggy hoodie, you could still see how his arms were ever so slightly straining the fabric.

Taking your eyes off him, he shared his most insightful opinion on your dead boyfriend.

"Glad I shot that crapweasel."

-

The next morning, you woke up with excruciating stomach pain. But at least you didn't start your morning off with a nightmare about Liam.

Getting up to go to the bathroom, you were met with an all too familiar bloodstain in your panties. Great, you had been so caught up in whatever was going on that you had completely forgotten about menustrating.

There was no way there were any pads or tampons in the cabin, so you settled for wrapping toilet paper around your pants and calling it a day until you could get some menstrual products.

You finished up in the bathroom, returning to the bedroom and getting changed into some clothes that Hoodie stole from your house yesterday morning.

He was in the lounge, probably loading or cleaning his gun again. You didn't really care.

You went out into the lounge, reluctantly asking the question. "Do..are there any pads or tampons here?"

Which was met with:

"Bad time to get your period. But unfortunately no, we don't have anything menustration related."

You sighed, "Is there a convenience store nearby with any pads?"

The question left your lips before you could think about it, and you quickly came to the conclusion that there was no way he would let you eave due to the risk of you running away. But you didn't have anywhere to go.

"Yeah. I'll come with you." You breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"What do you need?" You asked, putting your shoes on.

"Nothing, I'm only coming to keep an eye on you." You had anticipated an answer like that. At least you would be safe with a guy like him watching you.

After you tied you shoes, the two of you set off in the direction of the store.

It was quiet in the forest, the only sounds being the subtle nature sounds and your footsteps. Thankfully, it didn't take long for the convenience store to come into veiw.

He just leaned against a tree near the shop while you made your way in, taking note of how empty it was.

The clerk was a young woman, probably around your age. There were three young men elsewhere in the store, but you couldn't care less about them.

You found the brand you used, taking two packs before you were distracted by three voices a few feet away.

'Dude, have you seen that girl's rack?' 'That chick's got a body for days.' 'I bet she's good in bed.'

Your heart sunk, even in the woods you couldn't escape the male gaze. Could there be one day where women would be treated like actual human beings instead of pieces of fucking meat?

Even though it made you want to crawl into a hole and die, especially while on your period, you ignored it. But you made sure to subtly kick a guy in the shin after he made the mistake of grabbing your ass.

Walking up to the till, you placed the pads on the counter and gave the girl a small smile. She looked exhausted, as did you. You paid with a 'thank you' and quickly left the store.

You looked for the hooded man, he was well camouflaged by all the thick green foliage. He would come to you, you decided, and you knelt on the ground with a hand massaging your womb to try and ease the cramps.

You didn't know how you didn't hear him creeping up behind you.

"Womb massage, huh?" He commented, placing a large hand on your shoulder.

"How's that working out, babygirl? Any good?" He put his hands in his pockets.

"No.." you croaked, earning a chuckle from the man.

"Let's go. You can complain when we get back." You huffed and rose to your feet, clutching the packs of pads to your chest.

-

When you got back, you immediately changed from toilet paper to an actual pad. As expected, it felt much better.

You flopped onto the couch, closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep after tossing and turning uncomfortably for too long.

-

"(Y/N), get up." Liam hissed.

You groaned, covering your ears with the pillow before it was cruelly ripped away from you by him.

"I'm not asking again. Get the fuck up." His voice was pure venom.

He ripped you out of bed, dragging you out of the house and into the forest behind it. You looked down, seeing that you were in nothing but a baggy shirt and panties.

"Where are we going?" You asked, feet beginning to hurt as you went deeper and deeper into the woods.

He didn't answer, just kept pulling you alongside him. Eventually, the path you were on narrowed and thorny bushes began to nip and you legs.

You winced, batting a hand at the branches to avoid being hurt more. Liam sped up, practically sprinting as your feet and legs where being cut up by the bushes. The further you went, you were met with the sight of bodies. Bodies of your family.

Your mother was torn limb from limb by a bloody rose bush, your father beside her. Everyone was trapped dead in the sharp greenery, and you were forced to run past them and Liam's grip tightened.

Your shirt was beginning to tear, revealing the bare skin underneath for the sharp branches of the bushes to slice at.

It was brutal, the overpowering stinging sensation making tears prick at your eyes and pleas fall from your lips.

You were woken up by a rough, leather clad hand grabbing your face and talking to you with a stern tone.

"Calm down, babygirl. Calm down, you're fine, you're okay." He told you, moving his other hand down to massage your lower stomach.

You sobbed, tears running down your face as you realised it was another nightmare. Wrapping your arms around him, you sniffled as more tears fell from your glossy eyes.

This was exhausting. You were exhausted. It was like Liam was stalking you, haunting you. You felt awful, mentally and physically. Nothing helped. Nothing but him.

You caught your breath, and he loosened his grip on your chin, but didn't let go. He kept his other hand at work, doing well to soothe your cramps and calm you down.

"Atta girl, that's it." He reassured, bringing you into his lap as the tears began to stop and all that was left of you was a sniffling, tired mess.

"Another nightmare about him?" He questioned, tilting his head to look down at you.

You nodded, putting your hand over his on your womb, surprised at how good he was at it.

At this point, Hoodie had decided he had had enough. He wanted to know everything about this man, right down to his mother's maiden name.

"Tell me about him," he said, "Everything. How did he abuse you, how long were you a thing, did he pleasure you enough? Was he a selfish shitsteak?"

"He.." you mumbled, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

There was so much to say, but so little you wanted to reminisce.

It had to be talked about, you decided. And Hoodie was curious.

So who were you to deny him his curiosities?

spent the whole day on this autism is a bitch.

[thefandomlesbian]

The Canopener

A House MD one-shot for @gaylilsherlock. In which Stacy leaves, and Wilson must help House pick up the pieces.

link to AO3

...

Fat raindrops blistered the windshield of Wilson’s car, the wind threatening to veer his car off the slickened asphalt as he pulled into the parking lot at Baker Street. The nor’easter tearing down the coastline had punctuated the news channels all day, but he had never been more immune to the stinging sideways sheets of water or the lightning splintering the navy-gray dusk of autumn. 

Stacy had called him. “I packed while he was at PT. I’m leaving.” She heard his silence as frigid rather than stunned. “I know you don’t think I should. It’s my only option.”

“It’s not the only option.” Wilson was begging, though it didn’t sound like begging. “He needs you.” 

“He hates me.”

“ And he needs you.” He licked his lips, knowing intrinsically he had lost this battle before he even knew he was fighting. He took one last stab at it. “You owe it to him to see it through. You chose this for him.” 

“I shouldn’t have.”

Wilson shattered like glass. “You saved his life.”

“I know.” Stacy ended the call. Wilson didn’t know if he would ever speak to her again. He didn’t know if he ever wanted to speak to her again. House could be a cantankerous bully. But she loved him, or at least, she was supposed to. How could she leave? How could she regret saving him? Wilson would never leave. (Wilson existed in other people’s lives without ever taking his clothes out of his luggage, always one emotional flight away from permanent severance, but for House, he could make every exception.)

The rain smarted through his blazer like paintballs as he entered the apartment building. Usually, he thought of it as rather tranquil, but today, it was sedated, like the human body in active stages of dying. The stormy winds knocked death rattles from the foundation of the building, throaty moans exhaling from the old stone before he had lifted a hand to knock on the apartment door. 

He didn’t announce himself. He knocked twice, and then he entered the unlocked door.

All of the lights were turned off in the living room, only the dim daylight filtering in through the windows. Wilson went for the lamp. “Don’t.” House spoke from somewhere in the room filled with darker silhouettes on dark backgrounds. So, standing back, he waited for his eyes to adjust. 

Everything was gone. All of their pictures, her trinkets, the quilt throw she kept over the back of the couch. She left the furniture—all of that had been there when she arrived. And she left House. 

Wilson presumed House hadn’t been on the floor when Stacy walked out the door of his life, but in any case, he was there now, curled up on his left side in the fetal position, forearm tucked pathetically under his head, baleful expression on his face. His boxer shorts fell just above the glossy sheen of the wound vac dressing on his leg, tubing disconnected and dangling loosely over the floor. The suction canister was plugged into the wall a few feet away. 

“Okay. You’ve had floor time. Let’s get up.” Picking House up off of the floor wasn’t a new task. Stacy wasn’t strong enough to get him up when he fell, or rather, House loved her too much to put his weight on her shoulders. They sent up flare gun distress signals in the night for Wilson to come help. This was no different.

House slapped his hands hard. “Don’t touch me.” It was so different. 

“You can’t lie on the floor forever.” Wilson withdrew only a few inches to examine the tubing of the wound vac. “We need to plug this back in. It’s meant to be continuous suction for a reason.” 

Snaking the tubing back up to himself protectively, House poised over it like a predator preparing to strike; no, like a cat cowering over its kittens in the face of a forest fire, terrified and desperate. “Stupid thing won’t stop fucking beeping.”

Wilson picked up the suction canister and examined the screen. “The line is clotted off.”

“I know.”

“The dressing needs to be changed.”

“I know! ” House snapped. His mouth twisted into a sneer. 

Again, Wilson squatted to grab him. House withdrew, but Wilson was faster. “Let’s get you up.” He took him under the arms like a child, the way he always did, their faces close together, Wilson keeping his back straight and his knees bent to lift without hurting himself, an insanely vulnerable position. In the darkness of the living room, he didn’t see House pull back his closed fist. 

The impact of knuckles to jaw knocked him backward onto his ass, vision going skewed as he fumbled to right himself in shock. He propped his weight onto his elbows to peer at House, who looked just as shocked as Wilson was. Shocked and frightened, dragging himself backward, a panicked anguished sheen of tears appeared in his quicksilver eyes, left knee bending upward to defend his vital organs. He was prepared to be hurt. 

Stabbing pain pulsed through his face. He probed the area with deft fingers. Then, shakily, he got to his knees—his knees, not his feet, crawling toward House like an infant. His trousers picked up all the silt on the hardwood floor, which seemed to have gone unswept for weeks. House only gave up scooting away from him when his back hit the wall. His chest heaved in a fractured, stifled sob, the breath catching there and lingering, unable to hold it and unable to free it. 

When a sound finally came out of him, it was the high-pitched, pressurized squeak of air being released from a balloon incredibly slowly. 

A hefty clink and loll on the floor caught Wilson’s attention. A can of Beanee Weanees rolled away from House’s hand. He swiped at it, a weak grab, before he conceded defeat and curled back into himself, not meeting Wilson’s gaze, whole body braced for Wilson to attack him. 

Wilson didn’t. He picked up the dented can of Beanee Weanees, the label starting to wear off from being dinged and beaten on the floor. 

“She took the canopener,” House croaked. 

Wilson nodded once. He rocked his weight back onto his haunches, reaching into his trouser pocket for his multitool. It had a dozen extensions, each of which House had mocked on more occasions than either of them could count, but when he flicked out the blade of the manual canopener and popped the tin lid off of the can, House was silent. He still braced for the impact of a punch. 

Wilson didn’t put the open can in House’s hand. He placed it on the floor next to him. Then, he sidled up beside him, back to the wall, shoulders almost touching. They sat with parallel postures like synchronized swimming, left knees bent, right legs extended, hands in their laps, both facing the blank wall where Stacy’s pictures had hung. 

House didn’t have a spoon. He picked up the can. Wilson stilled his wrist. “You’ll cut your mouth.” The touch froze House’s muscles, but the fingers wrapped around his forearm were warm, dry from years of sanitizing obsessively, soft from his favorite strawberry-scented hand lotion. House had often mocked that, too, but now, the sweet scent was the only thing in his apartment that felt like home. 

Holding eye contact with Wilson, he brought the jagged edge of the open tin to his lips, slurping some frank chunks and brothy beans from inside it. The tin was acrid when his tongue incidentally brushed the rim. The edge of the can didn’t cut into his skin, quite a matter of accident rather than skill. After his long sip of beans, he put the can back on the hardwood floor between their hips. 

A long moment of silence passed. Then, Wilson picked up the can and also poured a mouthful into his lips. His hands were shaking, jaw swelling and bruised. The razor-sharp point of torn metal grazed his lower lip. He licked the blood away before House could see. 

“You hate Beanee Weanees,” House said. 

“Yeah,” Wilson said. He took another sip. 

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Whatever you need, I'm There

Virgil arched a brow in amusement when Roman dropped onto the couch beside him. It quickly turned to concern when he noticed the haggard look to the Prince of Creativity's face.

"You good?"

Roman nodded without looking at him and without speaking.

"You get any sleep last night?"

Another nodded.

"Not even gonna try to put more effort into lying to me?" Virgil asked. There was no harshness in his voice, but rather the type of companionable bluntness that came with familiarity.

"You didn't ask if I slept well, just if I slept," Roman pointed out, his voice uncharacteristically soft and quiet.

"How'd you sleep last night, Princey?" Virgil asked instead and Roman let out a breath, looking for all the world like he was about fall into tears at a moment's notice. Virgil reached out and rubbed between his shoulders.

"Not great."

Virgil nodded and popped out the foot rest and stretched out his legs. "Put your head down, Ro."

Roman shook his head. "I'm fine," he gasped, and quickly wiped his cheek.

"We can go lie down somewhere more private if you want, but you need some rest, Roman," Virgil told him with a gentle firmness. "I won't ask questions, I'll sit with you as long as you need, but you look like you're gonna fall over. Let me take care of you, okay?" He moved his hand from Roman's back to his neck and gently pulled him toward himself.

Roman nodded and let Virgil guide him into lying down on his side. He curled into the fetal position as Virgil conjured up a blanket for him, and gently tucked it around him.

"Relax, Ro, I've got ya, okay? I'm not going anywhere, I promise." He gently massaged Roman's head and graciously didn't mention the pin pricks on moisture soaking into his jeans from under Roman's head. "There ya go, buddy. You're doin' great. Nice slow breaths. You're gonna be okay, I promise."

Roman let his eyes fall closed, trying to focus on the hand playing with his hair, the soft blanket wrapped around him, the feel of denim under his cheek, and slowly but surely felt his shoulders relax.

Ten minutes later he was screaming.

"Roman!" Virgil's voice cut through his terror and Roman froze, still tangled in the blanket he'd been fighting either milliseconds ago and still openly crying. The Embodiment of Anxiety looked at him with wide eyed concern. "It's okay."

"Is everyone okay?" Patton's voice called from the kitchen and Roman some how went even paler at his voice.

"I've got it, Patt," Virgil called quickly. Before Patton could reply, he grabbed Roman and in a flash they were in his room, sitting on the floor. "Guess that's why you didn't sleep great last night." Virgil cupped a hand to Roman's cheek and thumbed away the tears under his eye. "C'mere, buddy." Virgil stood, gently pulling Roman up with him.

Roman hesitated when Virgil drew him to the bed.

"You don't have to sleep again," Virgil assured. "Just rest, okay? I know how much nightmares can take out of you, it helps to go easy in yourself afterward. We can even talk to keep you awake, alright?"

Roman nodded and let Virgil guide him into bed. Virgil sat first, and leaned back against the headboard then drew Roman into his arms, so he was mostly lying down and propped up against Virgil's chest

"You're safe, Ro," Virgil murmured and ran his fingers through Roman's hair. "I don't know what's goin' on, I'll listen if you want, but I want you to know that at least. You're safe and you're loved, okay?"

Roman nodded and let out a shuddering breath. "Thanks, Virge," he croaked.

Virgil smiled fondly and kissed the top of his head. "You're welcome, Princey. I said I wouldn't ask questions and I still won't if you don't want me to, but I'll listen if you need."

Roman sniffled a little and fiddled with Virgil's hoodie string. "In the dreams I'm wandering around the subconscious looking for ideas. It's dark and I can only kind of see what's around me. It's like- like the ice levels of Frogger. In my mind when I think about the dream, I know I'm looking for something, but in the dream I don't know what it is and I'm just...wandering. and eventually I realize I need to leave, maybe the whole time it's just that I'm looking for a way out, I don't know, but eventually, I come to these two massive wooden doors. Like that scene in Two Towers when Aragorn comes to tell Theoden about the Beacons of Gondor, but they're impossibly big. Like. The doors in Inside Out. There's a beam across them even though it's the inside of the door and it should be on the outside to keep things in. Usually there's a big rock nearby and I can hammer it out, but the door still doesn't open. It doesn't matter how hard I push on it, it doesn't matter if I throw things at it, or pull on it, it barely moves. Sometimes it doesn't even move at all. Eventually I exhaust myself trying to get out and then I can hear you guys on the other side and I start screaming and banging on the door, begging to be let out, but no one ever hears me. And I'm just left there. No one ever notices that I'm gone. No one ever comes to look for me. And I just sort of know by dream logic it's because Thomas is still having ideas. Because I don't actually have to be with him to have an effect. And I'm just...forgotten."

"Well, that's friggin' terrifying," Virgil announced after a moment of shocked silence. "No wonder you woke up screaming. How long's this been goin' on?"

Roman shrugged. "I've always had it. It's just been a lot more lately."

Virgil hesitates, something tingling inside his brain. "How much more?"

"Every day for the last week."

"Aw, Ro..."

"It's fine," Roman sniffed, put off by- or perhaps feeling a bit guilty over Virgil's worry and concern

"No, it's not," Virgil replied firmly. "I'm sorry, Roman, I could tell you'd been tired, but I just figured you were staying up late doing stuff. I should have checked on you sooner. I'm sorry you've been dealing with this alone."

Roman shook his head, but Virgil cut him off before he could begin to reply.

"You deseve support too, Roman. You need support and I'm sorry that you haven't had that. Don't try to argue with me, okay, Your Royal Bullheadedness? Just accept the fact that I'm right or I'll get Patton in here and neither of us want that because he's gonna take one look at you and probably burst into tears and it's gonna be a whole thing."

Roman laughed wetly. "Okay, I won't argue."

"Good."

"Didn't say I agreed. Just that I won't argue."

Virgil scowled and jabbed Roman in the ribs causing him to squirm and giggle. "Seriously though, Princey, I think you should talk to Thomas about this. Dreams are the subconscious trying to process stuff so whatever you're dreaming about is something going on subconsciously for Thomas."

Roman gripped Virgil's hoodie. "Will you come with me?"

"Yeah," Virgil nodded. "Yeah, of course, I will. Whatever you need, I'm there. It doesn't have to be right now though. We can wait till you've actually had some rest."

"Thanks, Virge."

"You're welcome, Ro."

[sabyfangirl]

Migraine

I had a bad migraine that one night and it kept me up for hours, so I thought, "Yeah, this would make a perfect fluff one shot." So here we are. And yes, I had to make Chris suffer as usual.

The pale crescent moon shone like a silvery claw in the night sky, a blanket of stars stretching to infinity. The creatures of the night roamed about in search of food, preying within the shady, sunless forest of Arizona. It was peaceful, nothing but tranquility. But despite the calm and quiet atmosphere, there was a hint of misfortune hidden somewhere, just waiting to strike.

That night, the misfortune had chosen its victim.

The Wild Kratts crew was sound asleep within the Tortuga, each member in their respectful room getting some much deserved rest after a long day of creature rescuing. The silence felt nearly eternal, broken only by the ever-lasting trill of the crickets.

There he was, the green Kratt slumbering in harmony, subconsciously clutching his pillow like a child while in the fetal position.

Suddenly, he felt it.

He woke up to an unexplainable amount of pain in his head, unlike anything he ever felt. It was like a heavy mass laying in his head, accompanied by a burning sensation in his eyes.

What's wrong with me? He asked himself. He sat up in bed, rubbing his face and remembering how he felt a slight headache before heading to bed but didn't think much of it. He couldn't have known it would lead him to the agony he was in.

He let out a hiss through his clenched teeth as the pain only intensified, almost wanting to burst into tears.

Why is this happening to me?

He could hear his brain pounding in his skull, as though it was about to explode any second. The pain was immeasurable. He was pressing his hands against his head when he looked over to the other side of the room in sudden remembrance. Martin. He was sound asleep and unaware of the situation.

A part of Chris desperately wanted to cry out for help, but the other didn't want to wake him up in the middle of the night over such a thing. But then again, he was suffering tremendously and could use some moral support. But while these thoughts were coursing through his mind, he suddenly grunted from the stinging pain, a little too loud, loud enough to knock Martin out of his beauty sleep.

The blue Kratt slowly opened his eyes, moaning before getting up to scan the room... To his surprise, he spotted his brother curled up in a ball, his face buried in his knees, the faint sound of sobbing filling the chamber. His eyes widened with confusion and mostly concern, his last shred of tiredness melting away.

Slowly and quietly, he got out of bed and marched toward his little brother before dropping on his knees and placing a gentle hand on his head. "Chris?"

Startled, Chris' head popped up, his eyes meeting his brother's, and even though darkness swallowed the room, he could still distinguish tear marks on his brother's pained face, illuminated only by the string of moonlight bursting through their window. Chris sat up, Martin's hands grasping his shoulders, allowing him to sense how shaky he was. "Bro, you're scaring me, are you okay?" Martin's voice cracked.

Chris shook his head. "N-No," a small cry squeaked out of his chest. "My head is killing me."

Martin frowned as Chris rubbed his temples. "A migraine?" he guessed, Chris nodding weakly.

At that, Martin straightened up almost instinctively as he headed back to his bed and grabbed his own pillow before layering it on his brother's. "What are you doing?" Chris asked with reddish eyes.

"Helping you feel better," Martin replied, giving him a reassuring smile. He then helped him lie down, adjusting the two soft pillows under his head. "Just take it easy," he brushed his thumb across his forehead, earning a half-smile as a response. "Don't move, I'll be right back." He then left the room, leaving his brother staring at the ceiling, his head still throbbing with pain.

Soon enough, Martin returned with something in his hands as he approached his brother. "Here you go, Chris." The green Kratt looked up to find his brother holding a mug in his hands, signaling him to sit up a little. "What's that?" he managed to ask.

"Ginger tea," Martin placed the mug in his brother's trembling hands, holding them tight until he was sure he had a good hold of it. "It'll make you feel better, hopefully," he attempted to chuckle.

A small smile of appreciation crept across Chris' face. "Thanks bro."

Without warning, Martin slid inside the blanket next to his brother, who didn't mind the company. It was actually comforting; he rested his aching head on the oldest's shoulder, one protective arm wrapped around the youngest as he quietly sipped his tea, blowing on the drink steaming at his face. What followed was nothing but silence. Martin was staring at the void while stealing protective glances at his brother, and once he was done with his tea, he placed the empty mug on the night table.

Chris let out a quivering sigh as he snuggled deeper into his brother's embrace, the warmth of it all almost making him not regret having a migraine. He buried his face in his brother's neck, his eyes closed shut. He felt safe. A warm smile crossed Martin's face as he rubbed his brother's arm comfortingly. "Sorry for waking you up," he heard Chris finally say.

"Hey, what are brothers for?" He felt a light chuckle escape his little brother, relief washing over him. "You're the best," that last sentence made him wrap both arms around him in a gentle manner, giving him the most meaningful hug he could.

A few minutes later, Chris started to snuggle down a bit, his head now resting on his brother's chest. His migraine had deteriorated, not completely, but enough to finally be able to rest. Martin delicately ran his hand through his hair, not minding the weight on his chest, as long as his brother felt at ease. And before he knew it, Chris began to snore softly; he was sound asleep. Pure satisfaction filled the Kratt in blue, he leaned in and gave him a small, tender kiss on the head.

He looked over at the window, the bluish color of the moonlight shining through and on his face. Peace had returned, his brother was sound asleep, but he wasn't. He couldn't go back to sleep, not just yet, not with his brother in his arms.

Nothing would stop him from helping a brother in need.

[conceptsformyowner]

toy Closet

Your closet is divided in two. One part has two doors, and the other just one.

One day, you make me help you sort your clothes out, so that you can give or stash away a significant portion of them. When we're done, the section of the closet that has a single door, half the size as the other one, is completely empty. When opened, all that's visible is a couple empty shelves and a coat hanger railing at the top.

This will now serve a new purpose.

We make sure the door shuts close well, making it pitch black inside, and add a small lock to it. We make the shelves removable and even add a few extra slots where they can be slid in place at different heights. We add a few bolts in fun places, and it's ready!

The toy Closet.

This is where all the toys go. The paddles, chains, locks (but not the keys), ropes, canes, mittens, gags, hoods, and me. This is now where I'm stored.

When the shelves are off, Its big enough for me to stand inside it with no issues, even with some room to spin around if I so fancy. But when they're on...well... that's a whole different story.

You change the height of the shelf whenever you want, from crushing me bent in half my chest against my legs, to kind of sitting up in a fetal position, with room just small enough to not let me stretch my whole torso properly, to being comfortably sitting but unable to actualy stand.

You decide how much I'll suffer. You decide for how long. You decide if you'll leavt it open, or lock it and go, leaving me stored alone and helpless.

You train me to be able to take longer and longer storage times, enforcing strict stretching sessions before and after storage to keep my body from stopping you from using me.

You lock me in here and forget, or invite people over either to the living room or right next to the closet, to your bed.

You teach me that this is my place. This is where I belong if I'm not being used. I get excited every time you open the door, thanking you for simply being able to lie down on the floor, the only place outside of storage where I'm to be allowed.

Sometimes you might allow me to have my phone in here, either as a kindness, of with a purpose like to write a concept, or as a timer, telling mw how you'll only let me out once my battery runs out completely.

When I misbehave, you tell me to go to my room. Which I know means that I'm to lock myself up in here until you remember or want to let me out.

I love the idea of you inviting someone over and showing tjem your kinky arsenal by opening the closet door. I imagine them seeing a closet full of fun gear and at the very bottom, trapped underneath a shelf, me, your toy, helpless suffering and quiet, as not to cause myself more trouble. I imagine tjem picking something from the closet and then closing it again, leaving me in the dark.

I imagine this being the condition you give me for orgasming. I want an orgasm? Very well, I'll have to get under here and then the minutes I take to orgasm are the hours I'll have to stay here after I do before being taken out of storage. Forcing me to be in here, uncomfortable and in pain, sitting in my own filth, any horny feeling gone and replaced with absolute clarity about the level of suffering I'm enduring.

If you do that enough times, you might even condition me to not want orgasms.

pathetic toy

[profeyandere]

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐒. ─── ☾ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʏᴏᴜɴɢ!ꜱᴇᴠᴇʀᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴀᴘᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴜʟʟʏɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Severus just waited for someone to hear his calls for help, someone who truly cared about his existence in the world and made sure of his absence during meals in the Great Hall or classes he shared with his classmates from the same year who belonged to the house of snakes or badgers, but the passing of the hours showed without any shame that his hope was a lie that he had created for himself so as not to suffer from the anxiety caused by the situation in which he found himself for having run into with certain Gryffindors who couldn't bear to see him at school; the simple fact of remembering the bright look of James Potter that, reflected in his glasses, showed amusement and malice by wanting to "play" with him caused a great current of chills to run through his entire body again and he felt even colder than the one he had felt over the last few hours where the lack of his cloak and his wand had made it impossible for him to escape the torture he had put himself through.

Having left his last morning class before lunch, Charms, he had run into the quartet he always had to hide from and they, determined to have some fun with their "friend", sought the most original way to torment the Slytherin so, with a vote in which Remus Lupine did not participate because of his friend Potter's childish way of showing his jealousy, the three remaining members of The Marauders decided to shove Severus out of his long coat and snatch his wand before locking him in one of the many cabinets in the castle that, for obvious reasons, was of no interest to any of the students. No one wanted to hide in a cramped, cold, smelly little room containing the mop bucket, and no one would consider that someone could be locked in there, much less if one of those people was Severus Snape.

The young Slytherin had listened, over the hours, to the innumerable scampers of each of the Hogwarts students and, although at first, he had pounded on the thick wooden door that separated him from freedom, he had finally decided to abandon his attempts to leave when he was sure no one would hear him. If he yelled for help while there was no one in the halls and everything was completely silent, no one would listen to him, and if he yelled for help while everything was packed with students and teachers, they would not hear him because of the huge crowd and the innumerable voices that could be heard from anywhere in the huge castle.

In either case, he was doomed.

A vague hope kept him alert, thinking that maybe James would open the door for him and return his belongings once they were tired of keeping him in the closet, but, that same small flame that had caused him to look with bright eyes towards the door. It slowly faded as he was able to make out the sunlight slowly disappearing as he looked at the small crack in the keyhole, having been his only source of illumination, finally engulfing himself in darkness. It was at that precise moment that he gave up.

Someone might or might not find him, but he was sure that tonight he would be completely alone in the janitor's closet.

The teenager, tired of having been standing for several hours and feeling how the muscles of his legs were slowly going to sleep, finally sat down on the frozen rocky floor of the room, bringing his long limbs close to his chest and hugging them to the side knee height, trying to stay in a fetal position to prevent the cold from penetrating his emaciated body. Without the usual tunic that he could wear as protection against the cold, the huge cloak that had been provided as an accessory that he could have used as a blanket or his determined wand that could have made him cast some kind of charm to make him leave the little room or having created a small fire, he could only rely on the thin off-white shirt he had worn all day to protect him from the cold.

« Hopefully, I will have symptoms of hypothermia once they find me here. »

That thought did nothing but sadden the boy's afflicted heart.

He couldn't believe how lonely he was from the moment he insulted Lily so vilely, and just thinking about her made him feel disgusted for himself. He had had a wonderful, sweet, loving girl by his side, and he had ruined everything because of James Potte and his gang of brainless assholes, even if deep down he admitted that it was all because of his big mouth and the way he was abrupt that he had to express what he thought or felt, and, although he was aware that the redhead might have been never going to reciprocate his feelings for the news that he had recently begun a relationship with the bespectacled teenager who was so loved at Hogwarts at least he had hoped to keep her by his side as a friend, as always, everything had to be ruined.

Suddenly, the quick footsteps of someone from outside brought Severus back to reality, brushing his bangs from his face and putting his ear close to the door to listen properly and make sure if it was an auditory hallucination or not, but it was the shoes. nearby which made him feel his heart beating again.

"I'm here!"

He yelled, pounding on the door. The footsteps began to get closer.

"Get me out of here!"

He exclaimed, hitting the wooden barrier with his open hand. The heels made him understand that a girl was approaching, possibly Lily, who had noticed her absence at dinner.

"I am Severus Snape. I am here!"

Suddenly, a few centimetres from the door, the footsteps stopped, resounding again to begin to move away from the room.

The Slytherin felt like a real fool to think that, by mentioning his name, the person who had come to help him had withdrawn. He was possibly one of Potter's friends or some other student who didn't want to appear to be on the opposite side of Gryffindor, but it wasn't until a few minutes later that he was sure someone had heard him.

Through a small hole, which was next to the lowest hinge of the dilapidated door, a small and hairy face appeared, curiously moving its aquiline nose quickly while the fine and semi-transparent whiskers that decorated it went up, and they descended to the rhythm of the breathing of the adorable little animal that, confused by the calls of the young boy, had managed to reach the small room where the adolescent was. The teenager expected the presence of anyone, but not something like that.

Severus, confused by the appearance of that little furry ball that he was unable to distinguish correctly in the dark, managed to remember how he had managed to see each of the Marauders turn into animals when they tried to play a trick on him so that they would see the true form of Lupin in the light of a full moon, frowning sharply as he remembered how Pettigrew's animal form was a rodent. He hadn't been able to see it up close, he wasn't even able to tell how big he was because of how far away he was from the other student, but he was able to make out that long pink tail anywhere.

"You came to laugh at me, right?" Snape questioned, getting up slowly from the ground as he felt a strange tingling in his legs due to their falling asleep. His hands, previously relaxed, were now clenched into fists that, because of the force, had turned his knuckles completely white. "You've come here so you can tell Potter that 'Whiner' is crying like a first-year, but here I am, perfectly fine and not sniffling like you might have expected him to be."

The little mouse, confused by the words coming from the Slytherin, cocked his head slightly to one side, scratching the back of his left ear before bristling completely when he realized that a huge shadow was hanging over him and that Severus, fed up from the teasing of his companions and wishing to put an end to that feeling of suffering that had devastated him for several hours, he had decided to step on the rodent that had sneaked into the room to hurt him, thus creating a situation really funny between the two. The small animal, scared and faster, managed to dodge each of the attacks that the student launched in his direction. While it was true that attempts to crush, or catch, the rodent began to be futile, it was Slytherin's pent-up anger that caused his face to turn a bright reddish hue and his breathing to start to get heavier. He was angry, and seeing the little ball of fur move to escape unscathed from his attacks made him feel worse and worse to the point where he ended up kicking him out of the room through the same hole he had entered with a strong kick, hitting the door hard with the skin in the process.

Once again alone in the small space that the room had, he allowed himself to lean his lanky figure against the door and let himself fall slowly until he sat down on the floor again, realizing then that small and salty tears had promptly come out of his eyes once. Once he had seen the mouse and they had already stained his cheeks, making him suppose that it had been the dire memories of the constant teasing of Potter and his friends that made him act that way with the little animal that wasn't even Peter; now that he could allow himself to think coldly he had realized that a rat was not so small and that it couldn't fit through that small hole.

Before the Slytherin sank back into his thoughts, he felt a soft caress run down his right leg and arm on the same side, finally noticing how his shoulder had a slight weight that made him turn his head so he could see that, above on his shoulder was the same furry figure that a few minutes before had stormed out the door, this time watching him with such intensity that he could swear those black eyes could read his soul and could penetrate his deepest memories in a way that not even Legilimency could.

"Get out," he muttered, raising his left hand to try to catch the little rodent, being teased as he felt it crawl up his hair to escape his attempted grasp. "Please, go away."

Severus' short, feeble pleas elicited no reaction from the mouse.

"I'm not in the mood, go away."

The animal perched again on the dark-haired man's shoulder with an agile jump, approaching his face with short steps until it was placed on two legs to be able to touch the boy's pale cheek with its small front hands, feeling on them how wet they were because of the silent crying that he had not even realized had started, thus surprising the rodent who hadn't expected to have that reaction from the Slytherin.

Severus, tired of the rodent, ended up inadvertently pushing it away with an unexpected slap, seeing how the small ball of fur fell sideways to the ground and screeched slightly from the fall and the impact on the stony ground, making the student feel worse. He didn't think it had been so abrupt. He settled back into the fetal position, the same way he had done countless times at home or school when something really bad happened to him, and he sought solace in himself not knowing where else to turn, mostly out of fear to be laughed at or there was no one willing to help him, hiding his face in his arms as he continued his silent crying.

The field mouse, who had come to the room because of the calls for help, looked at the boy's hurt and dark face, barely being able to distinguish something from him, feeling a strong pinch in his chest that made him shake to try to fix his fur because of the fall to later climb the boy's long leg until it reached his knees, grabbing some of the dark locks to make the student turn his gaze towards him, getting it after making several attempts. Snape slowly raised his head until part of his face was unearthed, being able to see perfectly close up the little mouse that quickly placed its small front paws on his nose as a support and quickly moved the whiskers near his nose to tickle him, getting him in The teen's gaunt face broke into a soft smile.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Suddenly, the rodent's ears began to move quickly in various directions, dropping to the ground from the boy's knees to get out of the room and, although Severus had been confused by how quickly it had gone, he was exceedingly surprised when he finally heard quick footsteps approaching his position and opening the door of the room in which he had been locked, meeting the curious and surprised look of Minerva McGonagall, who did not understand the reason why a student would be there.

The next morning, after Severus had given a long report on the attitudes that Potter and his friends had had towards him, he finally felt that everything was back to normal, feeling much calmer for having been able to rest in the comfort of his bedroom, but with a strange feeling of discomfort at being stripped of his wand and robes that James denied having stolen. The head of the lion house searched various parts of the room of the boy and his friends, denying having found what Snape had lost, so the boy was forced to wait for them to do some kind of reconnaissance throughout the house of the Gryffindors until they found the whereabouts of his belongings.

It was a new day, completely sunny as it had been for the past week with the arrival of spring, and Snape had settled into one of the huge trees nearest the Black Loch in the early hours of the morning while he comfortably read one of the books whose syllabus was too important due to the upcoming exam that would take place in a few days; he was too engrossed in his reading, but it was the sudden arrival of a certain light brown rodent that made him smile for the first time that day.

He was sure it was that little mouse that had accompanied him the night before.

"I'm glad to see you," he murmured, carefully taking the animal before gently caressing it with one of his fingers, avoiding exerting too much pressure so as not to hurt it. Those dark eyes reminded her of the events of the night before, and reflexively his smile faltered and he shrugged as a deep blush settled on the tip of his nose and under his eyes. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour. I don't think you can understand me, but it was stress and other things that made me act that way. I am sorry."

Severus almost thought he saw the little mouse smile, but it wasn't until he saw a young woman appear above him that he was finally surprised.

Your tall figure, hovering over her person and with a brilliant smile that illuminated her pale face much more than the sun, was the reason for her sudden shock, because he had not expected such an adorable little animal to be you, the young and famous Hufflepuff who had blown up every cauldron in the potions room and on her first day at Hogwarts had caused a fire in her common room by trying to turn water into wine.

"I forgive you, Sev," you said with emotion, moving away from him to give him some space. "Everything is forgotten."

Your animated words were accompanied by various movements that surprised and confused him, seeing how you searched in the small bag that you carried with you the enormous robe with elements of the colour of his house that belonged to him and the long blackish wand with strange patterns on its base that they made him realize that, in some way or another, you had managed to find him; he didn't want to question how you could have stolen all that, but then he understood why McGonagall didn't find his belongings in the Marauders' rooms.

"All of that is mine," he murmured, pointing to his garment and his wand.

"Indeed, my friend," you affirmed, holding out his belongings before taking a seat next to him, taking the book from him to see that he was reading. "Ugh, potions."

Severus couldn't help but gaze in fascination at his belongings, being able to make out your fragrance on his jacket once he put it on, turning his gaze from him to meet yours, noticing how his cheeks were suddenly beginning to heat up.

You, as you watched your fellow Slytherin turn his head to look at his own hands, couldn't help but smile warmly in his direction, feeling your heart pump harder and harder, just like he did, when you saw the bright blush slowly appearing on the tips of his ears.

[hotwings0203]

The idea of being in an argument w your yandere or being upset while in a car w them is SO hot

Like I’m thinking of some psycho like dabi or a conceited narcissist like bakugo in this situation, maybe it’s not even a yandere but def a crazy possessive dude who has serious issues. I guess you could do a guy like hawks, whose great in public and seriously pent up at home. Maybe even shigaraki, a guy whose not necessarily strong and intimidating from the outside, but whose eerie presence and potential keeps you in line

Tw:noncon, kidnapping, dubcon

Imagine he takes you out after a long time of being cooped up at home, being preoccupied physically yet mentally in a catatonic state as they show you the only use you have is underneath them. They finally agree to take you out to a friends’ party at a bar once your tears never seem to stop after a couple of days.

They look at you curled up on the bed like a scorned cat, your legs tucked up in a fetal position as you glare at them from underneath the tiny open pocket in the blanket you seek refuge in. The tears in your eyes shine in the dim candlelight of the dark room, akin to a cat’s eyes flashing as it remains crouched from behind the shadows.

“Can you stop being such a fucking brat and just come shower with me already?” He drones, dragging a hand down his face and sighing in exasperation as you glower and flip the other way, effectively cutting the conversation off. For a couple days now you’ve been putting up more resistance than usual, and while he finds it cute that you think you can evade him for that long, it’s annoying fighting tooth and nail to force you to be close to him, much to your chagrin.

He pinches the bridge of his nose as his scowl lines grow deeper. He’s annoyed, but he knows he’s being unfair. He’s been selfish, moving too fast for you even though he has so many more plans to keep you here forever than you know to the point where he’s realized you might seriously start to consider putting distance between you two.

Hah. As if he’d ever let you try that shit.

And so, one promise of coaxing you out of your “impenetrable fortress” of bed material leads to him agreeing to finally let you see your friends again.

Anything works if it means you’ll semi-willingly and very begrudgingly approach him.

He misses your smile, your laughter, the bright light you provide in his eternal void that caves in so deep inside of him that it swallows him inside out.

You look beautiful, he can’t lie, and he watches you sway to the music in your red dress. Truth be told, he’s glad you whined when he said no to it originally. It shows too much skin, yeah, but fuck he’d be damned if he didn’t admit the way your arms extend above your head so elegantly makes his heart ache.

Your hips rocking side to side in sync with the crooning tunes playing above makes his dick harder than it’s been since the last time he had you pinned beneath him, and he wants nothing more than to drag you by your cascading hair and fuck you up against the bathroom stalls like the teasing slut you are.

But his mood rapidly plummets as he notices a group of friends he vaguely recognizes slink up next to you, joining your movements and linking hands with you.

Hands that flutter around your curves, hands that aren’t his traveling up and down your sides, against the silk you’re in and dangerously close to places he’s meticulously claimed as his own.

But if that wasn’t enough by itself, when his eyes widen and he starts making his way around the bar counter to glare at you and to get the message of distance across, you…

You roll your eyes and turn away from him.

You fucking bitch.

Who do you think you are?

Enough is enough.

Without any more provocation, your enraged captor/lover storms through the crowd, shoving bodies aside and uncaring about knocking shoulders with people who cry out indignantly at his uncouth mannerisms.

From the corner of your eye you watch as a familiar head stalks it’s way to you, and by the time you’ve turned and witnessed the scene he’s making as he comes towards you, you’re scrambling backwards and tripping over your own dress.

But it’s too late, too little to acknowledge his presence as he pushes up against you and snarls in your face, “Playtime’s over slut. Did you enjoy all the attention? Shit, if you wanted some dick all you had to do was say so.”

You whimper in fear and desperately look around the party for anyone to come and intervene, but suddenly the music seems to be louder and the eyes that were previously on you and your little spat have turned to inspect the floor and around the room.

No one’s crazy enough to save you from what’s coming.

“Please! It hurts, let go! ___, stop fucking pulling me!” You yell through tears as your nails dig into his wrist.

He pays you no mind, pulling you through the mostly empty lot as a color red darker than your dress clouds his eyes, the image of you dancing like a whore while ignoring him playing in his mind on repeat.

His grip tightens marginally but you squeal all the less.

“What the fucks your problem? What, you can’t stand me having fun for more than 5 minutes without butting your crooked nose into it-“

This is the most you’ve spoken in over weeks, but he can’t find it in him to feel grateful as you falter when he yanks open the car door and practically throws you in the passenger seat.

Before you can even straighten yourself upright in the seat, he’s already rounded the car and locked the doors. You open your mouth to fire off another round of insults when he starts talking in a low, barely controlled voice.

“When we go home, your phone, laptop, keys, and any electronic you have is out the fucking window. You wanna act like the child? You wanna be a brat who can’t stay in her lane and be grateful? I’ll show you what happens when you act like one.”

Your agape mouth curls back in fear as he turns to face you, his enraged leer taking up the entirety of his face, his eyes gleaming with malice more than usual. His knuckles on the steering wheel are bone-white as he turns sharply this way and that, jostling you in your seat.

“You-you can’t do that. You’re not my goddamn father-“

“The hell I am, I’m your fucking daddy for all you know. After the shit you pulled tonight? I’m gonna act like one too.”

Your lip trembles as he continues in a growl, the streets blurring and starting to go by faster as he works himself up with terrible promises.

“-bend you over on my knee, beat your ass black and blue like how you wanted right? This was all for attention? Well, you got my fucking attention you cock-hungry whore.”

Your heart drops because you know the difference between his empty threats and his real ones.

He never has empty promises.

“I’m gonna tie you up and gag you with your own panties, would you like that, huh slut? You wanna be treated like my bad little girl?”

You sob and turn to the window as he shoves one hand in between your legs, groping harshly at your thin-lace panties and pressing his thumb near where you clit is.

“Nah. Nah, don’t fight me off now baby, I’m just playing your game. Look at me when I’m talking to you, the same way you look at me when you’re taking my dick so fucking deep.”

Your efforts to squeeze your legs together are thwarted as his massive hand pinches the meat of your thighs, forcing you to open up.

Your chest heaves as you gaze blankly out the window, your heart suddenly jumping when you realize he’s going 120 in a 50 lane.

“W-wait, please, slow down you’re going too fast.”

He booms with laughter and starts jerking the car left and right, doing nothing but increasing the speed 10 more miles up.

“Why, does this scare you? Are you scared, little girl?” His lip curls back into a deadly grin as he takes his eyes off the (thankfully) mostly empty highway and stares at you, your knees tucked away from him into the side of the car door. Your dress is askew and teasing a glimpse of your inner thighs due to his perverse ministrations before, your mascara running down your face.

You look like you got a good fucking, and he can’t help but to adjust his straining boner in his pants as he blatantly leers at you, his lip in between his teeth as he takes you in.

You’re terrified at his lack of attention on the road at the speed he’s going, so scared that your throat chokes up and all you can do is gape and point a trembling hand at the road.

“The! R-road, look!” You cough out and curl your hand against the armrest, your fingers tightening in preparation for the worst.

“Hey, you’re the one who brought this on yourself. This is what you get for ignoring me and breaking my trust. I have half a mind to pimp you out since I’m such a good boyfriend and all you want is attention.” His voice is airy and light but trembling with rage still. Just to turn things up a notch and to really teach you a lesson, he turns the radio on all the way to full and starts suddenly cutting across four lanes of empty road, then speeding back to his previous lane, and then again.

“Fucking stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please slow down!” You shriek, closing your eyes and bracing your body for impact.

But miraculously, he slows down and ceases the lane-swerving.

Your blood pounds in your ears and you grasp the sides of your dizzy head as you heave fast breaths. Your whole body is shaking, and you feel like you’re gonna puke as it takes a few minutes to calm down and stop an impending panic attack.

By the time you lift your head up from your knees and gotten a hold of your surroundings, you realize with a pang of shock that he’s already parked in some secluded woods area, and plopped you in the backseat.

“Finally, you said something. ‘Was wondering how long we’d live from the way you were forcing me to drive.”

You glance up and flinch at the way he looks.

The car is turned off, the moonlight behind him illuminating his silhouette and eerily only letting the whites of his eyes shine bright with mocking anticipation.

It’s befitting for him, he thinks, that the area he picked is dark and littered with giant trees that look overhead. The only light in this void that is so reminiscent of himself is one that he allows to come through, light that he lets you see, and that he takes as well.

You’ll shine as bright as he allows so.

“And now, for your lesson, little slut.”

*******

IM GONNA DO A PART TWO SOON SINCE I LIKED THIS ONE HEHEHEH

[sunonyoreface]

Anton Chigurh Imagine pt. 5

Tw: implied violence

“Anton, whose house is this?” I ask. The white tealight candle burns on the edge of the sink, smelling faintly of vanilla. Anton rinses the last of my blood down the drain. He pauses for a moment.

“Llewelyn Moss is his name,” his voice is quiet, soft almost.

“What’d he do?” I try to come off as though I’m genuinely curious and not prying for information that could possibly help me out of this mess.

“He took something that belongs to someone important,” his last two words echo in my mind. I’m not sure if I want to know more about this man or if he’s any better or worse than Chigurh.

“Oh. Well, how long are we waiting for him here?”

“Just the night,” he shifts towards the door, leaving me unsure if I should follow him. I snag the lighter off the counter and blow the candle out. He turns right towards the bedroom, I hesitate, then turn left towards the living room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His gravelly voice fills the hallway.

“The couch?”

“No.”

“it’s not- I won’t go anywhere, I’ll just sleep there for the night,” He whips around. That was a mistake. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.

“Give me the lighter,” with one strike, he has once again lit the growing tension between us.

“Are you scared of me, Jen?” My name leaves his lips like a threat. It’s the first time I’ve heard him use it. His eyes are so incredibly intense that it's hard to keep eye contact yet feels impossible to look away.

“No,” my voice wavers. Yes.

“No?”

I shake my head trying to convince both of us.

“Your eyes are dilated.” He murmurs “You’re wise to be scared.”

I keep my mouth shut. He is terrifying and intriguing and doesn’t need to know that fear’s not the only reason my eyes are dilated.

“Don’t leave my sight.” Shit. I nervously nod my head and after a moment he seems to accept this answer.

Chigurh backs off towards the bedroom, I reluctantly follow him into the darkness.

Moonlight filters in through partially opened blinds. The room is cramped and smells of dried flowers. I wonder if she has any hung in here. If he gave them to her for Valentine's Day. Or if he’s the type of man to bring home flowers on any day. It feels so personal to be in someone’s room, to lie in their bed and imagine the things they’ve done, the things you want to do.

Chigurh rounds to the far side of the bed near the window. I don’t wait for him to climb in. Instead, I grab the blanket folded on the end of the bed and wrap it around myself on top of the sheets. I leave my clothes on. Shoes too.

Laying where their bodies have laid is too much. Do they know they’re being hunted? Perhaps she packed their suitcases as he started the truck and grabbed some food. Or maybe he called her and told her to run.

I listen to Chigurh methodically take his shoes off and line them up at the foot of the bed. Then, the light sound of his jacket being folded and set on the top of the dresser, lastly, his button-up. When the bed dips, I notice he too is on top of the duvet. I steal a glance at him. The cool, dim light from the window casts upon his skin, emphasizing the strength of his jaw, the toned arms that cross his chest, the white undershirt that was once hidden under layers of clothing. I’m sure my eyes are dilated again.

I don’t move closer. I don’t say goodnight. I simply turn around and hug myself back into a fetal position. The thought of sleep feels out of reach, but at some point, it pulls me under.

I wake up alone.

Chigurh’s clothes are gone from the dresser. I listen for movement through the open door and faintly hear someone shifting around in the kitchen. I breathe a sense of relief and allow myself a moment to enjoy the peace of this fleeting feeling.

My joints hurt and I know for certain bruises have formed from the variety of manhandling between Mr. Jameson and Chigurh. I press for sore spots on my neck but am surprised to find they don’t hurt as much as I thought they would.

My eyes wander to the closet. I don’t have a change of clothes and have been wearing the same outfit for the last three days. It was that or I could wear one of Mr. Jameson’s shirts. Just his shirt.

I tiptoe to the closet. The door creaks when I try to open it silently. He’s going to know I’m awake. Things have been torn off the hangers and in one corner of the room on top of some boxes, a pile of clean clothes is strewn about.  They knew they had to run. I can’t focus on the sick feeling in my stomach or it’ll be all I think about.

My eyes gravitate to a floral sundress dress still hanging in the closet. I pull it out and lay it on the bed. I twist the doorknob so Chigurh won’t hear it click into place when I shut it.

The dress slips on seamlessly. A small part of me feels guilty, but if she wanted the dress, she would’ve brought it with her. Right?

As I attempt to zip up the back, the floor outside the room creaks. Anton barges in without knocking, his suspicious eyes land on me.

“What’re you doing?” His rough morning voice breaks the silence.

“Borrowing some clothes.” My fingers are still wrapped around the zipper, the dress only half done up. Chigurh’s hard facial expression falters when his eyes land on the dress, they linger a little too long.

“Hm,” he huffs, turning to leave.

“Wait-” I close the space between us. “Will you zip me up?”

Anton doesn’t say anything, but lightly brushes my hair out of the way. Calloused fingers glide across my bare back, my breath hitches. He moves slowly and intentionally, as he drags the zipper closed. I don’t turn around to face him when he finishes, the heat in my cheeks is more than a telling sign.

“Thank you,” He hums a short response, disappearing back into the hallway.

I waste no time grabbing a few other things from the closet and filling a cloth tote that was thrown on the floor. Socks, underwear, a couple of tops, a pair of jeans, sneakers that are two sizes too big, and my own clothes fill the bag. I search for other useful items she left: A small comb, deodorant, sunglasses, a travel-sized toothpaste, and tampons, just in case. When I open the nightstand, a small, black revolver slides into view.

I glance over my shoulder into the hallway to ensure Chigurh isn’t watching. The gun feels heavier than it looks. Six bullets fill the cylinder. I wrap it in a shirt and stuff it in the center of the bag where it’ll hopefully stay hidden.

A small smile finds its way onto my face. Maybe I’m not so hopeless after all.

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

This is just an idk....... something i thought of from the last of your comic about the brothers getting caught lying to Vanessa.

I can see Freddy and Gregory getting to the room Sun is in and bashing it in. The first thing that they would see would be bits of rays and oil littering the floor from Gregory's flashlight. He moves the light around and they see a whimpering sun vibrating in the corner. He is whispering for moon, begging for his brother to answer. They slowly convince him to leave. More lightly grabbing by the wrist and dragging at first, until Gregory thinks of the flashlight. But even after giving it to Sun, it is Freddy guiding Sun since he can't really see and is in no state of mind to know where he's going. He's shaking so badly that he fumbles and drops the flashlight. After the first couple of times Gregory stayed by his other side to catch it and quickly but carefully hand it back to him. Making a point of when he does to wrap his little hands around Sun's to at least for the moment, have a proper grasp on it.( And hopefully calm him) It would continue like this; Light tugs to corral Sun the right way and sounds of quiet sobs/ hiccups. Once or twice Gregory missed catching the flashlight and the clank of the flashlight, which made Sun jump/flinch. As they get closer to reuniting with Monty and Moon, Freddy can (smell?????) the oil and slows down, calling out to Monty first. They come around the corner, oil dripping down Monty's arms from Moon's body. Moon is shriveled up in the fetal position, his face tucked into Monty's chest. His legs dangle. His pants torn and soiled with oil; while the rest of him twitches and shakes. He doesn't speak. Sun drops the flashlight and tries to bolt to his brother. The urge to rip him from Monty and hug/cover him overtakes his thoughts. It takes all Freddy has to wrap his arms around Sun and stop him from rushing in and possibly hurting Moon more than he already his. Monty takes a step back (remembering the restraints still work). Sun screams and begs to be let go. That he wants his bother and cries as he wildly wriggles himself around in Freddy's arms. He pleads, promises, begs that he'd be good, that he would never lie again. That he wanted to take his bothers place and that it was all his fault. Freddy tightens his grip. He wants to let go, to let them get back together, but he needed to do this. It was for their own good. Freddy tries to explain this to him but Sun cant hear him. He is too focused on the faint whir of his brothers body. The sight of his brother's oil covering his lower half and the last thing Moon said to him ringing in his mind. He goes limp in Freddy's arms, "MOON"

Once Freddy and the others get the boys together they are going to need repairs. Will they be willing to go to parts and services, if that's not where they already are? I haven't written angst in a while, hope it meh. Sorry for it being sooooo long.

Okay this is SUPER well written, and fairly accurate to what I was thinking of tbh!! :D I don’t mind the length either, I really appreciate all asks!

I can absolutely see Infected Sun being dead silent, or at least really quiet. I like that idea because it feels like they are both acting opposite their normal natures; Moon being loud when first discovered and Sun being really quiet. Though I can't see him staying still for that long; He'd probably be pacing around the room a lot. Infected Sun can't stay still on a good day, so when stressed? They'd basically have to chase him around the room to corral him. Gregory would definitely be the one to bring up giving him the flashlight, and while it would probably calm him down some I feel he would still be really scared and partially unwilling to leave the room. Now, he doesn't like how dark the room is, but he also would be too scared to get out of the room because it doesn't feel safe anymore. He hates being away from Moon, because whenever he's away from him he doesn't feel safe anymore. And, as far as he's aware, Moon is dead.

Monty is definitely going to end up breaking the restraints before actually bringing him out of the room, though he still would be practically immobile. I haven't shown it yet, but the restraints burnt through the plastic AND metal from the intensity of the heat it produced, so his wrist joints and neck is exposed down to the endoskeleton. Infected Sun would be INSANELY distraught about seeing his brother like that, and even more distraught that he can't hug him as that's the only way he knows how to help his brother. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt his brother, and he got reminded about this from Freddy who would basically have to hold him back.

It would be a mess. To answer your question, yes they are technically in parts and services. They are in the maintenance tunnels directly attached to that room, so they're pretty close- though they'd never willingly go there, especially not after what they went through. Moon especially, as he would probably see it as a punishment and insist that he just had a punishment (he's still convinced that Vanny only put Moon in that room to punish him, but had no intention of him dying). Sun agreed that any more punishments would be harsh, and that would definitely force them to explain to the twins that she wasn't really punishing them, especially not Moon.

I hadn't added this detail when I posted the comic, but while Moon damaged his legs that's not the reason why they stopped working; They stopped working because his legs were forced to shut down. It's a safety measure when exposed to high levels of electricity for long periods of time. So that the rest of the body can continue to function, less needed parts of his body start to shut down to preserve energy. His legs powered off, and if he had stayed in that room much longer his voice box would've followed shortly. Essentially, the longer the time goes on the more of his suit will shut down, starting from his feet and ending eventually at his head. Monty would probably bring this up, and ask that realistically, there's no other explanation for what Vanny was trying to do.

Moon is the second strongest animatronic besides for Monty himself. If she was going to betray him, as she had, she would have to do it in a way that would ensure that he couldn't retaliate. With the way it was set up, worst case scenario he would just be highly crippled while best case scenario- and what she had planned- was that eventually the electricity would effectively shut down everything. If they hadn't intervened, he wouldn't actually of lived through that situation.

While she didn't succeed in her goal, her plan still worked; After all, she did cripple him to the point where he wasn't a threat anymore. And realizing that it was on purpose would be devastating. His one job is to protect his brother, and he literally can't do that anymore. That means he's useless now, and he hates that. He can't even hit anything because of how damaged his hands are.

He'd probably try to at least fix some of the rays that Sun pulled out automatically, but end up hurting himself in the process and break down because he can't even hold a plastic triangle without hurting himself now, which would then make Sun feel awful because he knows he shouldn't of hurt himself and now he made his brother sad, and he can't help him because he doesn't know how to make him not be in pain, and seeing Sun distraught makes Moon feel horrible and wish he wouldn't of screamed even if he couldn't help it. Again, feedback loop that one of the others have to break.

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Sohn Youngjae/Eric - Spoiled

prince! Eric x fem! reader

Warnings: unprotected sex

This was supposed to be part of a different fic series starring Eric, Juyeon and OC/Reader. I altered it to be a standalone for now, cause I'm not too happy with how the other parts turned out. But we'll see.

It's the week after his 20th birthday and the Prince's schedule had been hectic. He was now burdened with even more responsibilities and training to prepare him for the day where he will bear the King's crown, and continue his father's legacy. Of course. he understood the importance of it all, but right now he just wanted to collapse into bed and avoid everyone for a while.

He had just finished sitting in on a meeting with the board of school directors, where they drilled him incessantly with questions on how he would improve the education system. He quickly strolled away from the meeting room, hoping to leave before anyone could try to talk to him. When he was sufficiently far away, he breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled towards his bedroom.

He threw the door open and slammed it shut once he was inside, faceplanting into bed and tried to take a nap. A soft knock on the door caused him to let out a strangled scream. Why couldn't they just let him rest? He was close to tearing his hair out when he heard a familiar voice through the door. "Eric, sweetheart, are you alright? If it's not too much trouble can I come in?" You asked gently. Eric weakly called out a 'yes' and soon you were in his room, smiling pitifully at him. You walked over to the bed and sat next to him, whose face was still buried in his pillows. You caressed his blonde hair reassuringly, and he leaned into your touch, appreciating the comfort it brought him. "Poor baby, they're working you to death already, aren't they?" Eric mumbled something in response, being lulled to sleep from your soothing touch. You laughed softly, cooing internally at how cute he looked when he was sleepy. "You'll need to change into some comfy clothes, and then you can take a nap, baby."

You got up and rummaged through his closet, finding an oversized, low-cut baby blue sweater, and a pair of plaid shorts and brought them over to the bed. With a lot of whining from Eric, you managed to coax him into a sitting position, where you helped him change out of his formal day attire, which was a crisp white button-up, black tie and slacks, with a black sash across his torso. The poor boy was nodding off the whole time he was helped out of his clothes, curling up into a fetal position on the bed when they were done. Chuckling to yourself, you picked up all his clothes and put them in the laundry basket before returning to his bedside. Eric whined and made grabby hands at you to join him in his nap, needing your presence to soothe him. And who were you to refuse such a favor from your favorite boy? You kicked off your heels and slid into bed, drawing the covers around you both as you continued to run your fingers through his soft blonde locks. Appreciating the warmth, Eric cuddled closer and was soon sound asleep.

-

Eric blinked blearily. The room was tinted orange from the last few rays of the sun. He had slept through afternoon tea and probably dinner as well. He was still drowsy from the warmth around him, which was your embrace. You were still sound asleep, chest rising and falling steadily before Eric's face. Your lilac sundress had slipped down slightly, revealing your cleavage and he couldn't help but stare. Just a few days ago, he'd had the pleasure of seeing and feeling your body, an indulgent treat you and Juyeon hyung had planned for his 20th birthday. He felt himself hardening as the memories of that night came flooding back. It would be a lie to say he hadn't thought about it over and over again the past few nights, but all three of you had been too busy that week, to meet up and relive that experience. The tip of his hardening length grazed against your thigh, causing him to whimper at the feeling. He deliberated whether he should wake you up and ask for help with his situation. As he went over it in his mind, he subconsciously began grinding against your thigh, the delicious friction of his dick against his shorts. Biting his lip, he struggled to keep his low whines in. He was too far gone by now, shutting his eyes and pleasuring himself.

So far gone that he did not notice you awake from her nap and watch him get himself off by humping her leg like a puppy. "Enjoying yourself there, sweetheart?" Eric gasped and froze in horror, not daring to open his eyes. He felt your warm hand caress his face and touch his lips. You slipped your thumb between his lips and he willingly sucked on it, opening his eyes slowly. You looked at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes, "If you wanted my help, all you needed to do was ask. I'll give it to you anytime you want, baby boy." Eric moaned around the finger in his mouth and you replaced it with your tongue. You sloppily made out until-

"Please," he gasped.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me noona I need it so bad" he begged, with another rut of his hips against yours. A dark wet spot had now formed in the front of his shorts from all the leaking precum. "I'll take care of you, just try to relax, okay?" You assured him as You began stripping off your dress and helped Eric out of his clothes. Once they were both fully naked, Eric leaned back on the pillows against the headboard, his cock red and erect, leaking precum all over his belly. His eyes transfixed onto You, who crawled up to bed to lean over him, and grasped his chin to connect their lips in another searing kiss. His hips bucked upwards, desperate for some relief. You settled next to him, reaching out a hand to stroke his shaft, prompting more precum to dribble from his swollen tip. You collected the sticky fluid with your fingertip and spread it all over his shaft and balls and began to pump his cock slightly faster. Eric let out a hoarse moan, hips thrusting in time with your strokes. You pulled his face close, burying it in your cleavage. Eric took it as a sign to kiss all over your chest, finally zero-ing in on a pierced nipple, sucking hard and giving it kitten licks. He moved on to your other nipple, this time giving it hard flicks with his tongue and gentle playful bites on and around it.

You hummed in pleasure as he toyed with your breasts, speeding up the hand on his cock, twisting and tugging at it as well. With one hard tug, Eric shot his cum over both of you, some of it even reaching his lips. You didn't stop pumping him, and he was hard again in seconds. However, the overstimulation was too much for the prince. He gasped to catch his breath, trying to pull your wrist away, but you would not let up. You simply licked the cum off his lips and continued stroking him with a mischievous smile. You gave a long, deliberate stroke from base to tip and suddenly pulled away, leaving Eric groaning at the loss of friction. You pushed him down with your clean hand to lie down comfortably as you straddled him. Your cum-splattered hand was rubbing your pussy, your own juices mixing with his. You moaned as you thumbed your clit, your other fingers inside your folds, spreading yourself open. You dove down for a quick, sweet kiss to the blonde's lips and positioned yourself above his twitching cock.

You guided his tip towards your folds, and rubbed your clit on it, causing Eric to flinch. You put his tip into your entrance, and without warning, fully seated yourself on his cock, feeling his balls against your ass. Both of you let out pained moans; Eric from feeling his length suddenly surrounded by tight, wet heat; you, from taking all of Eric without preparation. Eric wasn't as big as Juyeon, but he was still a decent size. You let out a breathless laugh. "I can feel you throbbing inside me baby." Once you had gotten used to the feeling, you leaned forward to better leverage yourself to ride him. You lifted your hips up, leaving only his tip in your pussy, only to slam yourself back down. Both of you moaned in time as You repeated your actions. Slowly, you reduced your speed, but maintained the force. Your tits bounced deliciously with each thrust and Eric was fully enjoying the view. He had one hand on one of your breasts, and the other grabbing your ass, gripping it tight whenever you clenched around him.

"Noona, noona fuck I'm so close," Eric groaned. You leaned in to kiss him, whispering "Cum with me, baby." You wrapped a hand around his throat and rode him faster, chasing their orgasms. The blonde moaned shamelessly every time You tightened your grip around his throat, his hands gripping your waist so hard that You knew it was going to bruise tomorrow. You felt his hips stuttering as he thrust upwards, meeting your halfway as you impaled yourself on his cock over and over again, feeling it abuse your g-spot. You kept your eyes locked on Eric, appreciating how beautifully fucked out he looked. Sweaty blonde hair askew, lips pink and raw from being kissed and bitten, drooling dumbly, moaning like a whore, eyes rolling to the back of his head. You even took the time to admire how your rings glittered against his tanned throat. You choked him harder and harder until you felt his breath hitch, cheeks flushing dark red. Suddenly you felt him grab your hips and pull you impossibly closer, burying himself in your heat as he choked out a silent scream, filling your pussy with hot thick cum. You felt his cock twitch inside your as it spurted out more cum, and You instinctively clenched around him to keep as much of it inside you.

Eric let out a string of broken moans, begging you to stop once you withdrew your hand from his throat. He could not handle the overstimulation but you continued to grind yourself onto his softening cock, opting to finish yourself by rubbing and pinching your clit, and whispering praises to him, telling him what a good boy he was being, and how good he was making you feel. The boy sobbed, grabbing at the sheets to steady himself as you drew closer to your orgasm, a final tug at your clit sending your over the edge. You screamed in pleasure as you wrenched yourself off Eric's now soft cock, thighs trembling as a mixture of both of your cum dripped from your abused hole. You fall forward, resting your cheek on his shoulder, both of you breathing in time trying to catch their breath. Eric's hands came up to rest on the small of your back, gently caressing your skin as a way of thanks as they lay there for a while, being lulled to sleep from pure exhaustion and satisfaction.

The prince was soon fast asleep, and you giggled at the sight of him peacefully snoring away. You carefully extracted yourself from his embrace and stumbled your way to his bathroom, legs feeling like jelly from your escapades. You wet a towel and began cleaning you both off, Eric humming in his sleep at the feeling of the warm cloth on his skin. Once you were done, you grabbed a large, dry towel and spread it out on the bed, not willing to risk waking the prince up to change the sheets. Instead, You carefully rolled him to the side, for he was completely fast asleep by then. Once the towel was laid to cover the wet spots, you moved him into a more comfortable position and pulled him into your embrace. Smiling slightly in his sleep, Eric snuggled closer to his favourite noona and soon you joined him in the most comfortable sleep either of you had had all week.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For the BTHB, what about "Troubled fetal position" as a continuation of Vicious and bloody?

Love your writing btw!

Thank you so much!

This one is short, but I felt like it was a good step for Civilian to help Villain with his recovery and to understand the state of him. So I apologize for the length, but I liked where it was left off.

Vicious and Bloody Part 3

@badthingshappenbingo

Part 1, Part 2

Warnings: fear, deep references to stockholm syndrome and wanting to be hurt, war prisoner mention, beating mention, emotional whump, talk of triggers, seeking out things to remember torture, lying

And I edited this piece.

~

Civilian cracked her eyes opened, instantly aware that Villain was not writhing around in another nightmare- after the last one, it felt like a dream, a reverie. She rolled over drowsily and reached her arms over to hug him, but her arms only wrapped around nothing.

She shot fully awake, sitting up in bed. No, no, no, no... where was he? He couldn't have possibly dragged himself out of bed and anywhere far.

She pushed the tangled covers away and got out of bed. She was about to switch on a lamp when she realized that might scare Villain, so she grabbed her phone and turned the flashlight on. She pressed it into her leg and slowly raised it- anything to avoid scaring the inevitably terrified villain.

The lamp in the corner of her room was knocked over, along with the laundry basket. She sighed and picked those up. That was when she saw him.

Villain was huddled in a corner, legs and arms wrapped tightly around himself, protecting his head. He was on his side and vividly shaking.

Civilian froze. She couldn't just go and hug him, or she would scare him, so she sat next to him, leaning against the wall. The villain didn't perk up; he just continued to tremble and writhe under an imaginary touch.

After a while, Civilian spoke softly to him. "Villain," she whispered. "Are you good?"

The villain didn't reply, but he stopped shaking and pulled himself closer.

His hair was drenched in sweat as was his shirt, Civilian realized when she put her hand on his shoulder. He stiffened, sobbing loudly instantly, so Civilian made small, soothing circles over his back.

Eventually, he calmed down. Sobs turned to quiet cries and sniffles, and his shaking turned to tiny twitches.

"Want to watch a movie?" Civilian asked softly. Villain didn't reply, but her voice made him tense and curl further into himself.

"Shh, shh it's okay," Civilian hushed, leaning her head against the wall and closing her eyes. Her head still hurt from her interrupted sleeping schedule, as did her eyes and face. Gosh, she wanted a shower so bad.

"I want to watch a movie," Villain whimpered, scooting closer to Civilian until his head rested on her leg.

"What do you want to watch?" Civilian asked.

"Unbroken," Villain whispered, grabbing Civilian's shirt. Civilian felt a pang in her chest- she understood why Villain wanted that movie, for the message was good and would likely make him feel good, but it did not necessary mean that it was healthy for him.

The movie had scenes in a shed with someone being beaten up. Civilian crunched her eyebrows. Why would he want to see that?

Villain looked up at Civilian with bloodshot eyes. "Can we watch Unbroken?"

"I really don't like that movie," Civilian lied. Even amongst the horrid scenes of war prisoner life, she found the movie enlightening with a good message.

Villain grunted, tears spilling from his eyes. "I want to watch it."

Civilian was in a dilemma. Villain would have a breakdown if she didn't put in the movie. But he also would get worse mentally if he watched it.

"I don't have it," Civilian said, tracing her fingers through Villain's hair. And that as well was a lie. She had it, or if she didn't, she would just have to get it off of Amazon Prime.

"Oh," Villain sighed, believing her. He rolled over to his side so that his temple was pressed right below her knee. She could feel the irregular clenches of his jaw.

"We can watch another movie," Civilian reasoned. "How about the remake of Lion King?" That movie didn't have anything triggering, right?

"Okay," Villain grumbled. Civilian smiled and scooped him up, bringing him to her bed and grabbing her computer. She put on the movie, pulled Villain to her chest, and hugged him.

He fell asleep when Zazu, Nala, and Simba were traveling to the waterhole, lulled by the cheesy song "I Just Can't Wait to Be King." Civilian smiled, relieved that she was able to keep Villain from going into a dark part of his mind.

But part of her was still worried, how badly damaged both physically and mentally was he?

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Have a random ficlet inspired by @haysgrove college projection au

Janus frown when his phone vibrated. It was nearing midnight now and all his boys had agreed to work of fixing their sleep schedules and should have been in bed already.

"Are you gonna be home soon?" The screen read. It was a message from Sweet-n-Spooky. Virgil must have texted him instead of his mother by mistake. He gave a small sigh then hit the dial button.

Virgil frozen when his screen lit up with Janus's face on the caller ID. He groaned as he realized his mistake, but answered anyway. "Hey. Sorry if I woke you."

"Don't worry about that," Janus replied graciously. "I just didn't want you to start worrying when your mom didn't answer. Are you okay? I can come over if you need me too."

Virgil shook his head even though Janus couldn't see him. "No. No, I'm fine."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Virgil insisted. "I'm fine. I just- it's nothing, Jan. I'm sorry I woke you-"

"Virgil," Janus cut in, his tone gentle but leaving no room for argument, if Virgil hadn't been curled up in the fetal position in bed he might have gone weak at the knees. "What's wrong, darling?"

"I just feel sick," he mumbled.

"Like you might throw up?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, I'll be there soon."

"Jan-"

"I'm not offering, Virgil, I'm telling you I'm on my way, alright?"

Virgil let out a sigh. "Thanks, Jan."

"Do want me to stay on with you till I get there?"

"No. I don't want to get into an accident or something."

Janus smiled fondly as he grabbed the last of his things and shouldered the small tote bag. "I mean, speaker phone is a thing, but I don't want to stress you out more. I'll be there soon, okay?"

---

Virgil looked somehow more pathetic than he'd sounded on the phone. The SlipKnot shirt he'd stolen from Logan some weeks ago hung crookedly off his narrow shoulders and only half his hair remained in the pony tail.

"You poor dear," Janus tutted and pulled his friend into his arms and kissed his head.

"Thanks for coming over," Virgil mumbled into his shoulder. Janus was always so much warmer than he was.

"Of course, of course. C'mon, let's get you sitting down," Janus replied. He locked the door and ushered Virgil into his own living room. "Here sit here." Janus gently pushed Virgil onto the couch then began pulling things from his bag. He put a can of ginger ale in one hand and a package of saltines in the other, then took out a hair brush and sat sideways on the couch behind Virgil.

The younger dutifully munched his snack while Janus gently brushed out the tangles from Virgil’s hair and folded it into a loose braid.

Next Janus pulled out a bottle of lotion and squirted some into his hands. The faint smell of lavender filled the air and Virgil closed his eyes, soaking in the attention as Janus massaged his neck and shoulders; it was easy enough to do with how loose his tee shirt was. He was almost feeling relaxed with Janus spoke again.

"Have you gotten a few of those crackers down?"

Virgil only nodded, not trusting his voice to actually work right at the moment. It was always hard for him to talk when Janus was being so gentle with him.

Janus plucked a bottle of tums from his bag and took Virgil's hand, it was clammy and pale in sharp contrast to Janus's own skin which was warm and dark, and shook a couple tablets from the bottle.

Again Virgil just nodded before taking the medication.

Then Janus began to hum. It wasn't a tune Virgil recognized, probably from some play or other Janus had been in, but he hummed and rocked Virgil from side to side, lightly massaging little circles over Virgil’s stomach.

Now Virgil did begin to relax, leaning fully back on Janus who smiled and took the opportunity leave a kiss on Virgil’s shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine, only in part from the cold metal of Janus’s lip ring.

Janus smirked and pulled the blanket from rhe back of the couch and over Virgil. "Do you think you're ready to lie down?"

"Can you stay?"

"Don't I always?"

"I don't like being here on my own."

"It's all those ghost hunter videos you watch before bed. You really should cut back in those."

"They're not that bad," Virgil argued. "I mean, it's not like anything ever answered me here."

Janus's eyes went wide. "You've tried some of those things?"

"I tried asking if anything could turn on a flashlight once. Nothing answered though. I think I've heard tapping a few times though."

"Maybe I should take you to my place," Janus mused.

Virgil harrumped. "I don't wanna move."

Janus sighed. "Alright. We can lay here then." Janus guided Virgil so he was lying on his side and shift so he could lie down behind him, tucking one arm under Virgil’s neck and wrapping the other around his waist. "Good night, Virgil."

"'Night, Jan," Virgil mumbled.

---

Janus startled at the sound of an opening door. He listened, trying to be still so as not to disturb Virgil, who now snored faintly on his chest, as someone shuffled around the hallway and walked quietly into the living room.

He smiled up at the face that appeared above him. "Good morning, Ms. Webber," he chirped politely.

The woman smiled softly in return and stood on her knees, leaning over the arm of the couch. "Virgil had another hard night, huh?"

"He accidentally texted me to ask when you'd be home," Janus explained. "He only woke up once after I got him to relax though."

"Good. I appreciate you coming over to check on him."

"I appreciate having him as a friend," Janus replied sincerely.

"Do you need anything?"

"Oh no, I'm alright. You go get some rest. I'll let Virgil know you're home when he wakes up."

"Thanks, Jan. You're a good kid. Alright. I'm gonna leave you to deal with cuddle bug and gonna grab a few hours of sleep."

"Take all the time you need."

[sooibian]

Catch These Hands

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader

Description: Living with Baekhyun comes with its own challenges

Themes: Fluff (surprise!!!!), established relationship, make up artist and masseur Byun, a little bit of byuntae, and one (1) Eminem reference lol

Prompt: @/notyourenglishprofessor : You SAY you didn’t eat in bed but these crumbs say differently.

A/N: Happy Birthday @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ !!!! here’s your biggest pet peeve woven into a bbh fic! Hope you enjoy it XD

Word count: ~ 1.7k

Nights out have never agreed with you. It’s 2 a.m. and your feet hurt from the heels, your head hurts from the drinks, your little black dress (your best friend sure does have a penchant for party clichés) is mocking your food baby, your makeup feels clumpy - maybe you overused the setting powder but you wouldn’t know because the complex art of blending cosmetics has always eluded you. How do they make it look so easy in YouTube tutorials?

As you’re keying in the passcode to your apartment, despite all the malaise, a sudden surge of comfort courses through your veins at the thought of your adorable boyfriend asleep in a clean, cozy bed, engulfed in warm and fresh sheets that exude the fragrance of a spring meadow - courtesy of your brand new laundry detergent. You imagine he is dressed in his snuggly pajamas, with his lips slightly parted, dark hair tousled, and your ostrich plushie clutched to his chest. Ever since you started living with him, you’d never spent a night away from home but the one time you returned after a weekend long Neuroscience conference, you found your plushie resting in the comfort of his arms. The next morning he insisted that he didn’t know where it came from.  

‘Time to catch him red handed’, you smile to yourself.

Kicking off your heels and scraping your hair up in a bun, you tiptoe to your bedroom and the faint melody of Baekhyun singing in a highly expressive croon falls upon your ears.

Tell me you’ll love again, come back to me again..

He should’ve been long asleep and while you can’t wait to crash out either, you allow yourself the pleasure of eavesdropping on his heavenly vocals that always sound especially sweet when he’s wrestling sleep. Until..until you hear it.. the sharp crunch of plastic which sends you barging into the bedroom with exasperation painted across your features. 

Baekhyun clamps his mouth shut. 

Instead of jumping out of bed to wrap you in his arms, he uncharacteristically stays burrito-ed in his duvet, fixing you with an apologetic gaze. Elbow crushing the pillow underneath him, shoulders crouched, lips pursed, hair dishevelled, pajama bottoms scrunched up to his calves, he tries to blink away the very apparent guilt in his eyes. Your ostrich plushie lay on your side of the bed as if its neck had been snapped like a popsicle stick. 

As you loom over him, lower lip wobbling, he pushes his weight further down the pillow but the tail end of the red Orion choco pie wrapper teasingly peeks from underneath it, glimmering in the cozy golden lighting of the bedroom, already chuckling at the drama that is to ensue.

You’re too tired for this.

Without a word to him, you grab a bunch of blankets from the dresser, shut it with a loud bang and stomp out of the room while Baekhyun’s bearing is that of a frozen frame. As you’re questioning your life choices and are about to vent your frustration on the irreproachable couch, your weary gaze finds the bane of your existence again - crumbs. White, inelegant fragments of food conspicuous against your tan sofa.

They say the more you try to avoid something, the more you create it. This was unequivocally the worst quote you’d ever read. You created nothing! You were not the one to leave this slew of crumbs on the sofa neither did you leave a pile of crumbs on the bed! It was all Baekhyun! 

You’re way too tired for this.

Drowsy, you lie down on the floor, curled up in the many blankets, although still cautious as your piercing eyes doggedly probe for more evidence of Baekhyun’s insolence. Surprisingly, the rug was clean-ish. It was almost as if he had planned on you sleeping on the floor tonight. This thought fuels the rage bubbling in the pit of your stomach so you force your eyes shut to avoid a shouting match this late in the night. 

The shuffling sound of footsteps grows closer and you’re determined not to give him the satisfaction of even a glance. The sound comes to a halt and you feel a gentle caress of warm fingers ghosting over your cheeks which is quickly replaced with a smooth and cool touch of a cotton pad against your eyelids, cheekbones, jaw line, with a distinct scent of micellar water wafting in the little to no space between Baekhyun and you.

You continue to play dead as he’s quietly and deftly taking your makeup off while delicately holding you up by the back of your neck and you coyly move your face from side to side to allow him better access to every inch of your skin.

“Too much setting powder”, he whispers.

Darnit!

“Still so pretty”, he remarks in his dulcet voice. Your head now rests in his lap and he’s gently moving his thumbs in tiny circles under your brows, working his way from inside out and continuing the movement all around your eyes and ending back at the bridge of your nose, almost lulling you to sleep.   

At this point every cell in your body is waging a war against your now weakened spirit that’s continuing to disregard him yet you find yourself revelling in his mellow affections.

“It’s a rookie mistake. Not to worry, baby, I’ll help you get it right the next time.” He reassures, planting a soft kiss on your pout.

“Right”, eyes still wilfully shut, you chastise him, “maybe when you find the time from eating in bed.”

“Yah! Don’t be like that.” Baekhyun whines, prying your eyes open with his fingers, not-so-gently.

You smack the back of his hand and sit up cross legged facing him. He stretches his hand out to pat your head and you smack it again invoking a look of pure confusion in Baekhyun’s soft features. His hand is now barely an inch away from your lips and he commands with a raised brow, “Now kiss it better.” 

“Ew!” Your hand strikes the back of his, again. “How many times do I have to tell you not to -”

“Not to eat in bed!” Baekhyun completes your sentence with a deep sigh, “I know and I wasn’t -”

“Do not lie to me Byun Baekhyun!” Warning him, you wag your finger as annoyance betrays your voice, rendering your pitch shrill. Dusting the corners of his mouth with the pads of your fingers, you sneer, “These crumbs say otherwise. You know I hate it when you eat in bed! It’s ...It’s….disgusting! And -”

“And?” 

“You always ignore my post-its!”

Baekhyun huffs and runs a hand through his hair. Letting on a forced smile, he reasons, “We’ve been living together for three years now. I think it’s time you stopped leaving ‘do not eat’ post-it notes on everything you buy!”

Tilting your head to the side, you explain animatedly, “First of all, you won’t let me buy snacks on our grocery runs because they’re unhealthy or whatever and you want to bring about a stupid dietary reform in the household which, by the way, is failing miserably - ”

“Yah!! We’re still in January, don’t be such a pessimist!”

“Do not interrupt me! The few that I do manage to sneak into the cart are mine and mine alone!”

“It’s just that..the ones that you buy taste better”, he mumbles, unveiling the most powerful weapon in his artillery - the pout.

“That is the most ridiculous thing that’s come out of your mouth today aside from the crumbs! I imagined you’d be...”, it’s nearly 3 a.m. and you’re starting to descend into a fugue state, “you’d be...curled up in bed like a...like a... cooked shrimp with a plushie clutched to it’s chest!”

Visibly offended, he flicks your forehead and bellows, “Cooked shrimp!? It’s called the fetal position. Look it up!”

“I know what it’s called!” Your livid expression eases into a rather ill meaning smile, “My apologies, I took you for a grown man.”

“What in the world - I am a grown man!” His lips stretch into a wide grin and the tips of his fingers tease the sensitive spot on your neck, “would you like to see?”

“You’re disgusting, Byun Baekhyun! A grown man does not eat in bed!” You smack the back of his hand. Again.

“Strike four! You’re obligated to kiss it better now!” 

Tears start to well up in your eyes at the sight of his hand dangling so close to your face. “I’m tired”, you cry, burying your face in your hands as exhaustion and exasperation take over, “I really need you to stop eating in bed.” 

“Babe, I -” His eyes grow into large brown circles at the sight of your distressed state and he freezes.

“I feel like the crumbs will, like, turn into ferocious ants and nibble at my skin while I’m asleep”, you break into full blown sobs and Baekhyun takes you in his arms, holding you tight against his warm and comforting frame and patting your head to calm you down.

“Hush, baby”, he sing-songs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! You go get changed into something comfortable and I’ll dust the bed, okay?”

“Can you change the sheets instead?” Sniffling, you ask him with wide, pleading eyes, a sly smile playing at your lips.

His eyebrows shoot upwards and he exclaims, “It’s three in the morn-”

“Please?” You sing-song, a little too loudly.

He lets out a deep sigh, “Okay! I’ll change the sheets.”

With his slightly dispirited face sandwiched between your hands, you ask cheerfully, “And you promise to never eat in bed again?” 

“I promise to never eat in bed again.” A dejected Baekhyun says to his knees. 

“And you won’t steal my snacks?”

You had now started to push your luck with him, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

He flicks your forehead a little harshly this time making you squeal. “Can you stop with the stupid post-its, already?”

Rubbing your forehead, you surrender and get up. “Fine! I’ll go shower now.”

Baekhyun wraps his arms around your waist. Nuzzling your neck, he coos seductively, "I’ll join you.” 

“Byun Baekhyun!”

[kookiesjoonies]

where you belong | myg.

main pairing: idol!yoongi x wife!reader

fic type: one shot

word count: 3.3k

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: the beginnings of oral sex/shower sex, mentions of spitting, nipple play

summary: five vignettes of what being married to yoongi for over three years looks like.

a/n: me: i have the bladder of a squirrel, i’m always getting up to pee. lindy: write a fic like that. and so, i did. enjoy! let me know which vignette was your favorite! also i’ve tried to upload this fic eight million times but it never tags, so. i’m trying again and leaving it up whether it tags or not LOL.

April 12th, 2020. 3:04am.

It seemed like more often than not, you were waking up in the middle of the night with the desperate need to pee. You’d always had the bladder the size of a squirrel, making it difficult for you to get a full night of rest. Every two or four hours, you were awake and trudging your way to the bathroom.

You’d been laying in bed tossing and turning for an hour, trying to get comfortable but finding it more difficult than usual. Lying on your back wasn’t working, so you’d decided to try rolling over and onto your stomach. Which would have worked, except for the fact that you were now pressing on your bladder. With a heavy sigh and a groan, you shoved the covers off of your body and stood up from the bed.

Yoongi, your husband of nearly four years, had been trying his hardest to sleep all night long. But every time you moved or got up, you woke him up too. It was his turn to groan, a loud and frustrated sound that came up from his throat as he dragged the palms of his hands over his face.

“Y/n, please, for the love of God and my sanity, don’t get out of bed again.”

You considered hitting him over the head with a pillow, because did he really think you’d be constantly getting up like this if you could help it?

Your arms crossed over your chest as you peered down at the black haired man below you, “If I didn’t have to get up I wouldn’t, Yoongi.”

“Just squeeze the pee out, Christ.” He rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes.

He didn’t mean to sound hateful, but he was always such a grump when he was woken up. And you couldn’t really blame him, because you were the same exact way.

Still, it was the middle of the night, and you’d slept poorly so far. His attitude wasn’t helping, and you wanted nothing more than to be away from him.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, albeit dramatically, and made your way out of your master bedroom and down the stairs.

You’d decided to use the powder room off the living room, and sleep on the couch afterwards. If Yoongi wanted peace that badly, you’d give it to him.

Yoongi hadn’t even realized he’d dozed off again. And when he woke up, feeling slightly more rested than usual, he immediately grew suspicious. His eyes fell on the digital alarm clock on the nightstand that read 7:14 a.m.

He sighed, relieved. It was his day off, and he was glad he could stay at home and sleep in. And spend the morning with you wrapped up in his arms. He rolled over to pull your body closer to his, cocking an eyebrow when he realized your side of the bed was empty and he’d just been greeted with cold sheets.

Maybe you’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, he thought. He’d given you a few moments to return, and when you didn’t, he huffed and tossed the blankets covering the lower half of his body aside.

He decided to go searching for you, starting in your en-suite bathroom. His eyes scanned the decently sized room, frowning when there was no sign of you. It was still too early for you to willingly be awake, and he knew that, so his next plan of action was to search the kitchen. You were terrible for drinking sodas all throughout the night, which might’ve explained why you were always making trips to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t even make it into the kitchen before he saw you sleeping peacefully on the couch, curled up into a fetal position and emitting tiny snores every few seconds.

He cracked a smile at the sight, but then went to roll his eyes at you.

“Baby,” he whispered, crouching down beside of you to gently shake you awake, “come on, come back to bed.”

The sound of your husband’s sleepy voice pulled you out of your state of unconsciousness, “What time is it?”

“A little past seven.” His hand reached forward to lightly stroke at your frizzed up hair, and you couldn’t help but to lean into his sweet touch.

“But you said you didn’t want me up there.”

“Uhm, no I did not.” Yoongi was quick to be defensive, “I said for you not to get out of bed again, were my exact words. I didn’t mean for you to come down here to sleep.”

“Well, as long as I’m here, you won’t have to worry about it. Just go back to sleep.” Even in your half asleep state, you couldn’t help but to argue.

If he didn’t love you so much, he probably would’ve let you have your way. Let you sulk and pout on the couch while he slept soundly upstairs, but he couldn’t do that.

“Dude, you’re so dramatic.” He sighed, scooping your limp body up and into his arms.

You shrieked as he did so, your eyes springing open immediately.

“Yoongs! What are you doing?”

“Taking your ass back to bed where you belong.” He began his ascend with you up the staircase, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Can you take me to the bathroom first? I have to pee.”

“Of course you do.”

April 18th, 2020. 2:53pm.

Lazy Saturdays with Yoongi were few and far between, but when they did happen, they were your favorite.  

There were plenty of chores that needed to be done, plenty of projects outside that needed to be started, and yet the two of you had been planted on the sofa since you’d woken up.

You were lying down with your legs in Yoongi’s lap, watching the cooking channel. And he had his feet propped up on the glass coffee table thumbing through a nonfiction novel. The sunshine poured through the narrow window panes, the scent of the coffee you’d brewed earlier still lingering. Holly was lounging on his bed beside of the fireplace on his back, snoozing with his paws in the air.

“He looks comfortable.” You nodded your head in Holly’s direction, causing Yoongi to look up from his book.

He chuckled lowly, “He’s got it made. He lives in this big house with no responsibilities. All he does is eat and sleep.”

“I mean,” you started, “that’s all I do too, really.”

Yoongi nodded, tapping his fingertips against your kneecap.

“And as long as I can help it, that’s all you’ll have to do. You took care of me for so long, it’s my turn.”  

“You spoil me, Min Yoongi.” You couldn’t stop the smile that cracked its way onto your face.

At the minute, you were enrolled in university and only had another year or so before you’d be graduating. You had every intention of working once you were out of school, but you couldn’t lie, it was nice to know that if you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to. You’d been with Yoongi for so long— since before his debut with BTS.

He’d always promised you that one day he’d be able to provide for you fully, and now, he was doing that tenfold. The two of you were well off now, but in the end, that didn’t really matter. He could be a billionaire, or have one penny to call his own, and you’d still love him all the same.

“Yes, I do spoil you. And I intend to keep doing so, Min Y/n.” He’d abandoned his book, letting it lie on the armrest beside of him.

He lifted one of your legs, pressing tiny pecks against the skin of your calf muscle. You giggled at the tickling feeling, your laughter coming to a quick halt as insecurity suddenly took over. Jerking your leg from his grasp, Yoongi cocked a dark brow at the action.

“I haven’t shaved in like, a month, Yoongs.”

“Are you kidding me?” his eyes rolled and he reached for your leg again, “you know I don’t care about that shit.”

“Yeah, I know. But I do.” You frowned.

“Too bad.” He changed his position so that he was lying in between your legs now, his lips trailing from your knee to the top of your thigh.

“What are you doing?” You bit down on your lower lip to take it in between your teeth, your fingers instinctively curling into your husband’s dark strands of hair.

“Showing you how much I don’t give a shit about some damn leg hair.”

He sucked a purple bruise into your skin, and you couldn’t fight back the moan that left your lips.

Yoongi was quick to push your shorts to the side, his tongue dragging along the folds of your cunt over your cotton panties. The feeling of his teasing had you whimpering, and you were begging for him to give you more— to which he happily complied.

April 30th, 2020. 10:19am.

In theory, Yoongi having a week off from work should be amazing. Your time spent together should be filled with romance, sex, home cooked meals and stereotypical couple shit. Most importantly, the two of you should be over the moon that you were getting such quality time together. And you were... mostly.

But he’d been home for five days already, and you were silently wishing he’d visit the studio at least once— and he was silently wishing you’d take a night to go out with friends. You weren’t used to being in each other’s company for long, thanks to what your husband did for a living, so whenever he had more than a few days home at a time it was always an adjustment.

Yoongi had only been awake for a total of five minutes and you’d already found a way to annoy him, without him having to even lay eyes on you.

He was at the sink, about to brush his teeth when he noticed the cap sitting beside of the toothpaste. He was sure that one day, he would roll his eyes at you so hard that they’d get stuck in the back of his head.

With a huff, he deposited a decent amount of the toothpaste onto his toothbrush and ran water over it before putting it into his mouth. You walked into the bathroom then, your eyes half open as you made your way over to the toilet to pee. Ah, romance at its finest.

“Dude,” Yoongi said, spitting into the sink after he was finished brushing, “why don’t you put the cap back onto the tube of toothpaste?”

You scowled, thinking that he should know damn well you didn’t like to be spoken to before you’d had your caffeine.

“I’ll do that when you start rinsing the sink out and quit leaving your nasty spit in it!”

“My nasty spit?” he scoffed, “I’m sorry who was the one begging me to, and I quote, spit in your mouth, two days ago?”

“Bite me, Min Yoongi.”

You flushed the toilet and bumped his hip with your own to push him out of the way, rubbing soap onto your hands and washing them. It was going to be a long day.

By noon, you were ready to fully divorce him and kick him out of the house.

“Yoongi!” You yelled, standing by the laundry basket in your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest.

His feet carried him swiftly up the stairs as he feared something was wrong, stopping abruptly in his tracks when he saw the way you were staring daggers through him.

“Jesus,” he sighed, “what did I do now?”

You pointed harshly at the pile of dirty clothes next to the hamper, causing the taller man to internally groan at the lecture he knew was coming.

“Two more inches and the clothes would be in the basket. What is so hard about that? Do you live to piss me off? Is that what it is?” You scolded, barely taking a breath between your sentences.

“Mhm,” he nodded, “my only goal in life.”

You were fuming. How could he be such an ass? Throwing your hands up, you moved past him and out of the bedroom.

“Pick them up, or we’re getting a divorce.”

He chuckled, “Whatever you say.”

“Ever heard the term ‘happy wife, happy life?’”

He took short strides forward over to the clothes he’d previously discarded and picked them up, “Nope.”

“Well then,” you watched as he tossed the clothes into their rightful place of the laundry hamper, “I suggest you get familiar with it.”

By the time dinner was over, you’d made promises to take him to divorce court the very next day. He’d placed a single dirty spoon into a sink empty of dishes, and you suddenly understood why so many wives offed their husbands.

May 9th, 2020. 11:05am.

You were late— so fucking late, and you prayed that your mother wouldn’t completely disown you. The two of you’d made plans to meet up for breakfast at 10:30, but you’d just now gotten into the shower. She would never let you live this down. You were always late for everything though, so really, what did she expect?

Washing your hair would’ve taken up too much time, so you’d opted for a quick, ten minute shower and decided that a messy bun would do for the day. You were in the middle of washing your face when you heard the glass door of the shower rattle, alerting you to your husbands newfound presence.

“Morning.” His arms wrapped tightly around your waist from behind, and he began to press light kisses to the side of your neck.

You smiled at the feeling, tilting your head to the side to give him a bit more access.

“Good morning.” You rinsed off your face wash, carefully avoiding your hair and trying your hardest not to get it wet.

Yoongi’s hands found your hips as he pressed his half hardened length against your ass, causing you to moan at the feeling.

“Yoongs, I have to go soon. No funny business. I’m already late.” You tried to protest, but the feeling of his hand traveling down to spread your legs made you whine.

“So? You’re always late. Let me give you a good reason to be, at least.”

His teeth nibbled on your earlobe, all the while his pointer and middle finger had begun to circle over your clit.

Your head dropped back into the crook of his neck at the feeling, and you groaned.

“Fine, fine. But no foreplay, as much as it pains me to say that. Make me cum, then I gotta go.”

“Damn,” he laughed, “you really know how to seduce a guy, you know that?”

“Shut up.” You couldn’t help but to giggle in response, your lips finding his for just a quick second before he had you bent over in front of him.

“If your mom asks, just tell her we were practicing to give her grandchildren.”

The loud smack of his hand coming down against the bare skin of your ass echoed in the room, and you groaned— both because of the stinging sensation his hand caused, and because of his words. Leave it to your husband to say stupid shit like that before he was about to rail you.

Your breakfast date with your mom turned into brunch, and a very uncomfortable one at that. Yoongi had been ruthless with spanking you, and you were now sporting sore spots and welts that made it difficult to sit.

Even though your mom kept asking why you couldn’t seem to sit still and was constantly scolding you for being late, you decided that it was so fucking worth it.

May 20th, 2020. 8:45pm.

It wasn’t even nine and you and Yoongi were already in bed. He was scrolling on his phone beside of you, and you were watching makeup tutorials on the television hung in front of your bed.

You yawned, shifting your attention to your husband and knocking his phone out of his hand, just for the hell of it.

“What the fuck was that for?!” He sounded surprised, and you couldn’t help but to laugh.

“I dunno.” You shrugged, gently kicking his leg with your foot.

“Oh, so that’s the game we’re playing now?” He stared over at you, his lips curving into a wry smirk.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby doll.”

He was on top of you in an instant, straddling your legs as he tickled you. You erupted into an immediate series of giggles, your body squirming underneath him.

“Yoongi!” You squealed, attempting to push his hands away, but it was no use— he had you pinned and completely at his mercy.

“Bet you regret annoying me now, huh?” He asked, his own laughter bellowing out.

“Yes! Yes! Okay, okay! You can stop!” You were nearly out of breath from how hard you were laughing, and Yoongi was sure you’d never looked more stunning.

Your hair was wet from the shower you’d just taken, no makeup on, and you were wearing that damn tattered, worn out T-shirt that you loved so much. You were the very definition of beauty to him, the sight of your toothy smile and sound of your loud laughter only making that fact more and more evident to him.

His tickle assault on your body ceased, and the two of you attempted to catch your breath.

“I’m in love with you, you know that?” Yoongi’s position had changed, and he was now hovering over you and pressing his lips to your jawline.

“I know. And I love you.” You reveled in the feeling, enjoying the familiar comforting weight of his body on top of yours.

“Let me show you how much.”

Before you could protest (not that you actually would), he was making his way down south. He’d bunched your shirt up, letting it rest just above your breasts. He was practically salivating at the sight of your bare chest. You’d been married for so long, and he’d seen you naked more times than he could count, and the sight of your body still amazed him every time.

He pulled a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently. Your fingers carded into his hair, your back arching up and off of the mattress as you pressed into him.

“Yoongs,” you sighed, marveling in the feeling of him palming your other tit with his hand.

He always took his time when it came to your chest, and he always made sure they were bruised and reddened by the time he was done with them. And you had zero complaints with that fact.

After he’d abused your pebbled buds to his satisfaction, he moved to leave a line of wet kisses down your stomach.

When his lips came into contact with cotton fabric just above your belly button, he pulled back with a confused expression adorning his features.

“Granny panties? Really?” He chuckled, pulling at the hem of them and letting it snap against your skin.

You yelped, batting his hand away.

“Shut up, they’re comfortable.”

“I never thought granny panties could look so sexy.” He wiggled his brows, and you rolled your eyes.

“Gotta say, though,” he said, pulling them down your legs, “I think they’d look sexier on the floor.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You laughed, kicking your underwear off of your feet.

“Maybe,” he grinned, his lips quickly finding their way to the insides of your thighs, “but you love me.”

“More than you could ever know, Yoongs,” you smiled, suddenly very aware that the most amazing man in the world was yours, and yours alone, “‘more than you could ever know.”

© kookiesjoonies 2020.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.