#bolt shut up and take care of yourself challenge

[lynnslittlelife]

I've never requested something so sorry if none of this makes sense. Can you do alastor from hazbin hotel x male little please. You can decide the plot (or whatever it's called I'm not that creative sorry)

I'm happy you requested from me!!! No need to apologize ^~^ it's a safe place here! I love Hazbin, especially Alastor so it was fun to write for him! I don't write male readers much on any of my pages, so it was a fun little (pun intended) challenge! Hope you enjoy ^~^

Word Count: 1,101

You waited very impatiently for you dada to come home. When he met you, you made a deal. He saw your soul, and knew it was different than a lot of others down here. He was intrigued, and ended up spending more time with you until he figured out what made you different. It didn’t take him long, he was a very clever demon. You were a little, but he had grown a soft spot for you…at least…as soft as he could manage. 

Your deal was that he would be the only one to see you. Aside from the other demons who served under him in his home. In turn, they served under you as well. But when at all possible, you had to stay in your room until he was home. He knew you could be sensitive, after all…hell was no place for a child. Despite being physically older, you weren’t always as old as you looked. Alastor knew this, and did everything in his power to keep you safe. 

You colored, and rolled around in bed with your favorite stuffies, but you wanted dada to come home! Being little alone wasn’t TERRIBLE but it was far from ideal. Dada always left you a lot of things to keep you busy while he was gone, but it wasn’t ever enough. He had been gone for weeks! WEEKS! You couldn’t wait to hear his stories and what he’s been up to in the extensive amount of time he was gone. He did have good stories all the time, and when you were big some of them seemed outlandish, but little? Anything was possible. 

Luckily you heard the front door open, and bolted out of your room to try and go meet him. He had been gone for so long! How were you supposed to entertain yourself for THAT long?!?! The other smaller demons were too scared to really play with you, in fear of what he’d do! So he was the only one you could really even play with! He didn’t “play” too much, but he did watch you play and make comments. Sometimes even compliments, about your drawings or toy piles. Anything really. 

When he was barely even in the door, you jumped at him. He caught you, of course, and let out his laughter. Not an evil laughter, but more genuine of one. He didn’t laugh like that a lot, but relatively frequently around you. He held you close to him, and carried you all the way to your room. He patted your head, having no problem with carrying you with only one arm. 

“Hello there, little one. Have you missed me?” It was rhetorical, because he knew no matter how long he’d be gone you’d always miss him. He admitted to you once or twice, how he felt as if you gave him another purpose in the after life. Made him feel special, and wanted, simply by being yourself around him. Allowing him to take care of someone else, something he never cared to do when he was alive. 

“Yes! Missed you so much dada!” You giggled and tried to hug him as tight as you could, but it was far less than what was needed to actually break or even hurt the demon. “You was gone for forever!” You giggled even more when he kicked the door shut with his foot and set you down next to the drawing you were making before he came back. 

“My dearest little boy…I was only gone for a few hours.” He chuckled and knelt down beside you to see your drawing. “Ah! Would this happen to be a gift for me?” He picked it up and examined it, before pinning it to the wall with many of your other drawings. It was more of a display wall than anything, almost exclusively used for your drawings. Though you had so many, you might have to get another wall just for that. 

“Hours? No! Weeks and weeks!” You said and pouted, crossing your arms. “Where did go?” You stopped pouting and instead stood up and ran up to him to pull him into another hug. “Stories?” Always wanting to hear about his latest adventures. Even if he would never tell you about some of the gorey details, when demons decided to test his limits. Some demons just had no common sense, and tried to push the buttons of the infamous radio demon. 

So he told you tales of his adventures, and you listened to each and every word. Whether they were true or not, was up for debate. Like the daughter of hell? Starting a hotel to redeem sinners? You didn’t believe it up to a point. But eventually he gave enough details about it, that it had to be true! If that was possible, he said he’d like you to try. But not until he had solid proof. 

“But…dada…you come too, right?” You seemed scared, not wanting to imagine “living” without him. It didn’t sound like he was coming, and that didn’t help your fears at all. “No leave without dada!” You scooted closer to the bed he sat on from where you sat on the floor. He looked to be his usual carefree self, but there was something more behind those eyes of his. 

“You see, little boy…I’m not made for heaven. You, however…are. You’re kind, pure, and how you ended up here I’ll never know.” He picked you up with ease and sat you on his lap. “I plan to stay here, and you’ll go somewhere much better. A kinder place. You’ll be happy, and safe there.” He secured his arms around you so you wouldn’t fall, but that was the least of your concerns right now. 

“No! I happy with dada!” You were trying not to cry, and when he saw that expression he melted just a bit. “Stay here with you!” He was already close to you, but you tried to make it even closer still. “No leave you! No…no no.” You shook your head before resting it in the crook of his neck. 

He smiled, and thought for a moment before saying, “No. It’s alright, I won’t leave you. Not now, and not ever. Down here I can make sure you’re safe.” He rubbed your back to soothe you. “If anyone touches you…” His voice turned to a deep static, and you couldn’t see it with your face buried, but symbols and waves of his power crashed around you. “You're my little boy, and I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you. You’re safe with me.” 

[fandom-go-round]

Recovering Together: Reader x Diasomnia

The last two weeks had been rough to say the least. 8 hours days turned into 12, 16 and even more if you weren’t careful. It was draining; physically, emotionally, socially. You’re sure you would have Overblotted if magic was an option. It hurts more because it’s been so long without seeing your partner. Now, finally, you have a moment to breathe and they’re determined to show you how much they’ve missed you.

Small snippets of the boys taking care of you when it’s hard to take care of yourself.

Warnings: Trauma (Emotional), Physically Exhaustion, Self-Doubt, Implied Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Reader), Crying, Comfort, Intense Emotions, Overworked Reader, Implied Fighting, Breaking Down

Malleus-

           Malleus has never been the best at keeping track of time. Not for lack of trying but just because time passes so differently for the fae. It takes him a few days to notice that you haven’t been meeting him for your nightly walks and then another few to realize he hasn’t seen you in the halls. You always go out of your way to say hello to him and it’s a comfort that he misses.

           He keeps an eye out for you the next day and even though he sees your friends, you are nowhere to be found. Malleus doesn’t think anything of it when he approaches Ace and Deuce, even as the two of them look like they want to bolt.

           “Trappola. Spade. A word, if you would.” Neither of them makes any move to run and Malleus smiles, pleased that they are willing to speak to him.

           “Y-yes sir!?” Deuce is the one brave enough to ask, even as it comes out harsh. Ace immediately elbows him to shut up but Malleus ignores him, knowing the two of them are just like this.

           “Do you know where the Prefect is? I have not seen them and was wondering where they had gotten to.” The two of them tense at question and he narrows his eyes. “You will tell me.” They flinch at the commanding tone, sharing a look between them. Finally, Ace straightens up and scowls, face determined.

           “You sure you want to know?” His question isn’t a challenge but Malleus takes it as one, smirking as he looms over them, a hint of green flames at his mouth (neither notice).

           “Tell me everything.” Ace gives a determined nod and begins to explain.

It doesn’t take much, honestly, to get the two ranting. Crowley’s been running you ragged and it’s taking everything you have to hang on. You were skipping class to try and catch up on work and sleep and the more Malleus hears, the angrier he gets. No wonder he hasn’t seen you; survival has been your focus. The two finish up their story and Malleus thanks them, half realizing that it’s storming outside. He finishes up the rest of a day in a fog, heading over to Ramshakle right after class. Well, after stopping by and seeing Crowley as well. It’s not a long conversation but it gets the point across.

You’re half-awake when you open the door and are surprised to see Malleus there. Rain water drips from his horns and his eyes are intense but the rest of his face relaxes when he sees you. You let him in without thinking, his hands going up to cup your face.

“Child of man. I have missed you.” Your eyes go wide at his words and you smile, patting his hands gently.

“I’ve missed you too.” He smiles at your words before getting serious again, looking straight into your eyes.

“I have spoken with Crowley; you are released from your duties until farther notice.” You laugh a little in shock, doing your best not to cry. He’s concerned but keeps his eyes locked on your smile and how relieved it looks.

“Want to eat ice cream with me?” He knows logically that you shouldn’t, that you should rest and eat something healthy. It doesn’t stop him from leaning closer and kissing your forehead.

“Nothing else would bring me joy.”

 Silver-

           It’s not often that Silver is awake in a way that makes everything sharp and crisp. Sure, he can stay awake like everyone else but there’s a lingering fog, just beyond reach. Today is different; he feels like he has more energy and it’s easy to focus on the things he wants to do. Right now, that’s you, asleep under a tree.

           He sees the irony in him being the one awake while you sleep but the thought leaves quickly. It’s easy to see the circles under your eyes and your skin seems duller, not as smooth as usual. Silver knows that you’ve been running around campus doing something for the last two weeks but there aren’t a lot of details about specifically what. You’ve been too busy running around to explain and Crowley isn’t keen on throwing himself under the bus.

           Silver makes his way over to you, kneeling down to look you over. You’re completely out and a ping of worry washes over him. There’s no way you can defend yourself like this; your body has made you sleep.

           His fingers are gentle as he brushes your cheek and then leans down to kiss your cheek. He takes a seat next to you and smiles when you immediately lean on his shoulder, letting out a happy sigh. Sleep, for once, doesn’t tug at him and Silver is thankful. His animal friends soon make an appearance, crowding around him to talk and play. He enjoys watching you sleep as well, your face soft and peaceful.

           Time passes quickly as you dream. More than once, Silver has seen Crowley poke his head over a bush, clearly looking for you. He makes no move to wave to Headmaster over, content to let the man think Silver is by himself. You’ve been working so hard; you deserve time to yourself and to recover. He wants to defend you as you sleep, let you dream peacefully and without being disturbed. Right now, he can be your knight in shining armor.

 Sebek-

           “HUMAN!” Sebek’s voice is hard to miss on any day of the week but right now it’s impossible. You lean back a little, moaning in your mind about your poor ears. What’s odd about this situation, however, is that he’s standing by the gate to Ramshakle. You give Sebek a small wave, stopping a few feet from him.

           “Morning Sebek, how are you?” You offer a half smile, ignoring the way his scowl gets bigger. As much as you enjoy spending time with him (and you do, truly), you’re going to need to keep moving if you want to make it to class on time. You take a step down, intending to go around him but stop as he steps into your path. You can’t stop your eyebrows from going up as you try to side step him and, once again, he blocks your way. “What are you doing?”

           “This is an intervention!” His voice is still loud but at a more manageable level. You’re so happy that he’s not as loud that you don’t register his words at first.

           “An intervention?” You’re defiantly confused and scowl as he continues to block your path. Sebek smirks and pushes his chest out, something that would be cute except that you’re going to get into trouble.

           “Yes! It has come to my attention that you, human, are being overworked!” He pauses as if you’re going to gasp in surprise and thank him for his deduction skills. Instead you nod, crossing your arms.

           “Yup. Totally.” You agree, snickering a little as his face falls. “What about it?”

           “It is unacceptable! The Young Master will worry if you fall ill, therefore it is my responsibility to make sure you are properly cared for!” Sebek’s face starts to go a little pink halfway through his explanation but he doesn’t stop, feet firmly planted like you’re going to try and rush him.

           It’s sweet, in a very Sebek kind of way. He can’t admit that he’s worried about you but it’s easy to see it in his eyes. You debate internally and finally end up shrugging to yourself. Who are you to argue with him?

           “Works for me.” He seems shocked that you’ve agreed so quickly and you laugh a little. “Honestly Sebek, I’m exhausted so I’m not going to fight you on this one.”

           “Of course not! You would lose!” He’s quick to jump back to being smug, walking towards you and offering his arm. “Come! I will escort you back to Ramshakle; who knows what kind of issues you run into, being a weak human.” You want to tease him about the walk but decide to let it go. If he wants to be your knight today he’s welcome to; hopefully he can stop yelling long enough for you to take a nap.

 Lilia-

           It’s so hard to stay awake. You know you should be sleeping but you want something else. Anything else, besides the pattern of work-sleep-eat you’ve gotten into. He said he was going to visit tonight and you don’t want to miss it. Miss him.

           The sound of the window opening has you jerking up in bed, eyes half open. It hurts to keep them open but you need to check. You had dozed off.

           “Hello darling.” Lilia’s voice is soft in the night and you say something back, even if the words aren’t clear. His eyes half glow in the dark and you watch as he floats his way over. He looks the same as always and that’s a comfort as much as it makes you sad. It feels like it’s been forever since you’ve seen him.

           You lean away as he reaches out to cup your face and you both freeze. You want to curl into a ball and disappear; you know that if he touches you, you’re going to start wailing. You don’t want to cry; you haven’t seen him in a week and the last thing you want to do is just start bawling. You want to talk and hang out and spend time together.

           “I’m sorry.” You apologize without thinking, voice thick and Lilia clicks his tongue, shaking his head. His eyes go through a few different emotions before settling on something that makes you warm.

           “Don’t apologize my love, nothing to apologize for. I’m happy to see you.” He smiles brightly as he leans his head on his palm, floating next to the bed. Your heart clenches, something soft and squishy being exposed.

           “I missed you.” You whisper to him and don’t lean away this time, letting him cup your cheek. Whatever else you wanted to say dissolves into sobs as he brushes his thumb over your cheeks. There’s no way to stop once you’ve started; you feel like you’re yelling out in pain in the only way you can, raw and unfiltered. You feel more animal than person.

           Lilia doesn’t retreat at you’re wailing or tears, pulling the covers back to slide into bed next to you. He makes no comment at your near nakedness but as he holds you close you revel in the skin to skin contact. It only makes you cry harder and through it all he whispered soft words in your ear.

           “Rest now, I have you. You’ve done so well, get as much rest as your need.” You don’t fight the pull of sleep this time, knowing that Lilia would stay right next to you.

[giggly-squiggily]

Could I request some Korekiyo x reader hurt/comfort? Like it gets REALLY FUCKING ANGSTY (As angsty are you’re comfy with :3) and then it gets resolved at the end? (Maybe throw some tickles in there 👀) thank you!

WHOO BOY- when I tell you I read this and said "Challenge accepted", I wasn't kidding! This..is really angsty hehe. Due to the contents of the fic, I didn't feel right putting tickles in, but there is a decent amount of comfort hopefully somewhere in the mix? Either way, I hope you like this angsty Korekiyo fic anon! (and if you'd like, I'd be more than happy to write tickles for Kiyo as I'm slowly falling back in love with Danganronpa and miss him)

@sevenincubistolemyheart @giggly-toybox

CW: Danganronpa V3 chapter 1 spoilers, angst, panic attacks, graphic depictions of the first execution, grief, loss, angst, mentions of illness, mentions of death (also we're ignoring parts of canon because I said so)

The crash of the piano closing rattled you. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. Around you everyone seemed to fall mute. You could see them talking, crying, shouting, but you didn’t hear a thing. All you could hear was the broken notes of Der Flohwalzer as Kaede slowly died before all of you.

You needed to get out. You needed to run, to flee from it all. You turned, slipping on your feet as you bolted. Bodies- there were too many bodies. The room was too hot, you couldn’t breathe-

Her body swung like a metronome. Long blonde hair hung in her face, hiding the anguish remaining. The lid of the giant piano slowly fell forward-

Your stomach turned. You clung to the wall as you tried not to throw up, head spinning with lack of oxygen. You were gonna pass out right here and now. Falling to your knees, a blood curdling scream ripped out your throat. How’d you manage that without any air you could only wonder.

“Don’t go dying on me now!” Were her last words, tears dripping down her face as she looked at each and everyone of you. Kaede- her beautiful smile wrecked with grief. She mouthed to you a soft goodbye just as-

“(Y/N).” Who was that? Who was talking right now? You couldn’t see- the world suddenly went dark. You heard your name shouted once more before your head hit the cold hard ground.

~~~

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room.

“Forgive me.” The voice from earlier spoke, so gentle but so startling to your shaken form.. “We only have access to our own rooms. I couldn’t get into yours, so I brought you to mine.”

Daring a peek, you found Korekiyo kneeling by the bed. He was a good distance away, dripping the last few drops of tea into a mug with careful hands. He was always so wrapped up- you could see the bandages were fresh. “Tea? It soothes the soul.” He held up the cup to you.

“Tea…right now?” You almost laughed. Then you did laugh, a hollow bitter sound. “Kaede just died and you’re offering me tea?” You smacked the cup out of his hand, sending the contents spilling across the floor. “How can you be so calm after- after all of that just happened?”

Korekiyo looked at the discarded mug, watching the hot liquid melt into the floor. Then he reached around him, pulling out a towel. “I had a feeling you’d do that.”

“If you did, why bother offering- What are you doing now?” You yelped when he pressed the towel against the stain. “That’s hot! You’ll burn yourself!”

“I’ve done it before.” He spoke casually, but you were already on the floor, taking his hand away from the damp towel before it could touch him. “Really, it’s not that hot.”

“Shut up. That mug was steaming!” You held up his hand, looking for wet spots through the bandages. “I think I burned my hand when I-”

That’s when you felt it. The slightest of tremors. Staring at his hand, you watched it shake within your grasp, the muscles tensing in his arms. They were so clammy beneath the bandages.

“You’re shaking…” You mumbled, looking up at his face. At first glance he seemed calm, but you could see it. The darkness in his eyes, the paleness of his cheeks above the mask. “Korekiyo…”

“Apologies. I meant to be comforting you. You passed out in the hallway- we all assumed the worst.” He muttered, gently taking his hand out of yours as he carried on dabbing the spill. The towel was no longer steaming, but you suspected it was still hot. “I don’t blame you- a sight such as that can be rather…”

“Terrifying.” You finished when he couldn’t go on. Your heart broke when he nodded, something of a shaky exhale could be heard. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s quite alright.” He reassured, but it didn’t make you feel any less guilty. Reaching out, you began to gather the pieces of shattered mug, waving him off when he started to protest. “I don’t care if I get cut.”

“...” He didn’t have much to say to that. When the spill was gone and the mug pieces were discarded, the two of you sat facing one another, you leaning against his bed and him kneeling before you. “I’m aware this is a…rhetorical question, but..how are you?”

You snorted, then immediately felt bad. “Sorry. I’m…better? No- not really. I’m numb. But I’m not gonna pass out again if that’s what you mean.”

Korekiyo nodded, and the silence continued.

“Was this…your first time? Witnessing death?” He asked, something small in his voice that put a stopper on your snappy retort.

“Was this yours?” You asked in return. Korekiyo seemed to sink into himself.

“My sister…I was there in her final moments. It wasn’t as…violent as Kaede’s.” He stammered some, as if saying her name was difficult. Hearing it was just as bad. “But it felt like it. It felt far worse, if I’m being selfish. She went so quietly and yet…”

“Her loss is so loud.” You finished, reaching out and grabbing his hand. It was shaking again. You squeezed it. “How did she die?”

“...Illness. She had grown weak so fast.” Korekiyo seemed to tremble. Tears rolled down his masked cheeks, leaving wet lines along the fabric. “One day she was smiling and sitting up, the next she couldn’t open her eyes. She just…left.” He choked out the last words with such grief it brought tears to your eyes, blurring your vision of him. “F-Forgive me…I shouldn’t be speaking of her right now. We just lost Kaede, and yet-”

You had closed the distance so fast. You weren’t even aware you were doing it until he was wrapped in your arms, your face pressed into his shoulder as you held together his fragile core. “It’s okay.” You whispered against his shoulder. “It’s okay to grief her too.”

Something broke then. Arms wrapped around you tightly as Korekiyo let out a sob. It wasn’t long before you were both crying, grieving the loss of Kaede, Rantaro, and all those who have come before. It hurt. It hurt so, so much, and you felt like you were gonna crumble away like ash at any moment. You hung on tighter, steadying yourself against Korekiyo as all the pain you felt since coming to this twisted game all spilled over.

Eventually, when you ran out of tears and felt strange for hanging on, you released Korekiyo, sitting back until you were sitting knee to knee. His eyes were red and puffy, and his mask was wet with residue tears. You were sure you didn’t look any better.

“He-eh…you know, I bet Kaede’s fussing at us right now.” You smiled, wiping your face as much as you could. “She’s probably pissed we didn’t get to hear her play a proper rendition of Der Flohwalzer.”

Korekiyo let out a shocked laugh, finding your eyes. “That’s terrible!”

“I cope with humor.” You shrugged, earning more wet laughs from Korekiyo. “Seriously though…I’m gonna miss her.”

“Yes..as will I.” Korekiyo nodded. “I’ve only known her acquaintance, but she was a lovely girl.” Something sad passed over his expression then. “I wish I weren’t so harsh with her before.”

“What’s done is done. I don’t think she’d hold it against you.” You tried to smile, but you felt so drained it hurt. Instead you leaned into his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “Hey…thanks for being there for me, Korekiyo.”

“Please, call me Kiyo.” He took your hand back. For once this entire evening, it didn’t feel cold. “Thank you too. You’ve..helped me in more ways than you know.”

Once again, you’ve fallen into silence. Your chest hurt, your face burned and your head felt like you smashed it through several concrete walls. You were sure Korekiyo wasn’t doing any better.

“I can’t stay for the night. The bear’s orders.” You groaned, burying your face into the soft fabric of his shoulder. “But could I stay here with you? Until he makes me leave?”

Korekiyo didn’t answer. He didn’t have to- not verbally. He simply got comfortable, letting you lean fully into him as he leaned into you. Your hands stayed interlocked as you lounged in comfortable silence.

For the first time since coming here, you felt safe.

Thanks for reading!

[i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper]

The life - Brienne x Faerys

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Visual of Faerys

Master list

Prompts: 40. “I have never hurt anyone. Yes, I’ve killed and I’ve damaged but those are things that you can overcome. Mentally, however, I’ve harmed no one but myself.”

Warnings: Angst, description of violence.

Words: 2.596

"You know I would move heavens and earth for you my little flame. Tell me what troubles you so."

"It's Viserys." She spoke quietly. Eldest sibling got confused. "What about him little one?" There was no mistaking bite in her voice, Faerys knew her brother has changed since their exile. But for Daenerys to look so scared of him. He messed up. Big time. "He wants me to marry one of Dothraki Khals." That was it, eldest one saw red at those words. "He. What." Anger, blinding, boiling, unmistakable in her voice. But at the sight of her little sister flinching Faerys forced herself to calm down. "I'm sorry my little flame. I didn't mean to frighten you. But I need to know. Did you accept?" Voice much gentler than before. She nodded. "I didn't have any other choice. He is to be king, and for that he needs army. The one I can provide by marrying a powerful man." She spoke. If Faerys was angry before she is absolutely livid now. But forcing herself to a calm state of mind yet again for the sake of not scaring her little sister. "You are already promised to him? How come I knew nothing of it?" Daenerys shook in her place, thinking she was about to be struck. "He told me not to mention it to you."

That was it. Red line has been crossed.

Gritting her teeth Faerys just nodded. "I see. I'm going to rest now my little flame, have nice day, and please do take some rest yourself." Faerys spoke as she hugged and kissed crown of her sisters head.

Daenerys appreciated softness her sister gave, always being gentler one of the siblings. Faerys was always the one to care and comfort Daenerys, no matter what, no matter how late in the night she came her arms were always widely spread and ready to engulf her in her comfort.

As soon as she was out of eyesight Faerys bolted for her brother's chambers. Bursting in without knocking se spoke. "You were going to give our sister away to some brute?!" Faerys was livid. "She told you? That little..." He spoke as he went for the door but was stopped with hand around his neck that pushed him back. "Yes. She told me, and you will not do anything. Unless you wish for broken bone that is." "How dare you speak to me in such manner. I am the King."

"Any man who must say, I am the king, is no true king. Do I need to remind you insolent child who is the elder one here. Just because I don't want the throne does not mean I won't take it from you if you continue being oppressor." He went deep red. "You dare-" "Yes. I fucking dare, because I am the one who wiped your ass, and took care of you. So you will shut your trap before I shut it, and speak when spoken to. Meaning I ask questions you answer. Understood." He knew better than to challenge his sister. She had quite a temper, so he nodded. "Now. You promised our sister. The light of my eyes and happiness of my heart to a dothraki savage. Do you care to explain why."

"He will give us his army. We can take our throne back with it."

"Oh. So it's our throne now, as far as I remember it was your throne until few moments ago. But my question still stands. Why. The. FUCK. Didn't. I. Know?" Faerys seemed more threatening than ever, her eyes nearly in slits, voice taking growling quality. Resembling a dragon more than a human in that moment. "Because you wouldn't allow it and we would loose perfectly good bargain." As soon as those words came out of his mouth Viserys hunched over, swift punch to the gut delivered by his sister sent him in to coughing fit grabbing his neck and pinning him to the wall. "OUR sister is not a bargaining chip you little shit, and what happened to others being inferior to OUR blood? Did you traumatize my sister with the thought of marrying you just to sell her like common WHORE?!" Faerys physical state is a mirror of her emotional one, veins on her forehead and neck protruding and pulsating, her jaw clenching and unclenching. Breathing erratic as she growled at her brother.

"You will call it off." She finished letting him drop onto his knees. "I can't." He wheezed. "What." Tone eerily calm. "I can't. She's promised to him, if we don't give her to him. He will find us and take her by force treating her worse than if she just accepted it." Seeing sense in his words and indeed it being hard situation. She nodded. "BUT. If she is hurt in anyway by him. You better find good spot to hide." With that Faerys went to her room.

Soon the day of ceremony came. The man that Faerys came to know as Drogo didn't seem to heavy on the eyes, but still...

"You seem concerned, my lady." Ser Jorah spoke, and she smiled. She found comfort in mans kind face and gentle voice. "How can I not be? My sister is off to marry complete stranger, and I can't do anything about it. I am the eldest of my family I was supposed to protect her." Faerys spoke but Jorah shook his head. "This is no fault of yours. From what I heard you didn't even know about it until few days ago. Stopping it then would cause great consequences for everyone included." Girl smiled and nodded.

The time of gifting the bride came, so Faerys stepped out. Her head held high as she presented her gift. A necklace, a dragon with greenish brown eyes. Pulling on her neckline Faerys showed off her own dragon with sky blue eyes. Daenerys knew meaning of her gift and nodded in gratitude. When she stepped back and stood beside Jorah he spoke. "That is a fine gift my lady, I hope you don't mind my asking but where did you acquire it?" She smiled and spoke "I made it. Took a long time about two weeks. But it payed off, I thought what better occasion that this to give it to her." The astounded look on knight's face was priceless and something she would remember for a long time.

Months passed, Daenerys fell more and more in love with her husband and soon...

"I'm gonna be an aunt? I'M GONNA BE AN AUNT?!" Tears of happiness prickled her eyes as younger girl smiled giddily and nodded. In matter of seconds she was lifted off the ground and twirled in the air. "Yes. You are gonna be an aunt." She knew how much Faerys loved children but this child was her own flesh and blood so it's even more special to her. From that day on eldest Targaryen would spend hours beside her sister. Hugging her, comforting her, petting her stomach and kissing it. Whispering to the baby and talking to it, promising the world and more to it. Truly and well in love with it even before it was born. Relationship between her and her brother in law improved significantly. They were friends, often joking with one another and teaming up against Daenerys in their teasing. Viserys was growing distant, insulting Danny much more and earning himself sharp glares sometimes even smacks from Faerys. But nothing could prepare the girl on the sight of her brother writhing in pain as molten gold burned his face and entered his inside. She was in shock but also pain. No matter what, how he acted and spoke, how he was towards her or anyone else. That was her baby brother, the very one she gently rocked in her arms and sang songs to. The one whom she played with and whose smile brightened her day before this world corrupted him. So she turned and left her soul burning with pain and anguish. Old memories rushing back, old wounds springing open. After she calmed she came back and spoke to her sister. Neither of them even thinking what future might bring.

Days turned into nights, and soon... It was day like any other that is until one of the Dothraki challenged Drogo wounding him, one of the witches offered her help but it was a trap. The man's wound got infected and as a result of blood magic preformed by the witch he got in to a state that was worse than death.

As Faerys walked in to the tent she saw Daenerys closing in on Drogo with a pillow in her hands understanding her sisters wish, she gently caught her wrists and took the pillow. "Why don't you take a walk my little flame." She spoke in gentlest of voices. As she walked out Faerys walked to the man. "Hello Drogo." He just stared at her but his eyes filled with sadness. "I will take care of her. I promise." As she finished that sentence she hit his throat as hard as she could, giving him swift and painless death.

The flames were wilding and burning everything, without a thought in her head Faerys rushed to protect her sister running into the flames. But they didn't burn her as she expected, no. They felt comforting as they licked her skin. Soon finding her sister also unharmed she rushed to her and enveloped her in a hug. Soon small cries were heard and two girls felt something brushing their skin as they looked down they saw four little dragons. Babies. Soon fire died down and people cheered when they saw that we were unharmed.

Three dragons were constantly following Danny but one of them... One of them was practically bound to Faerys with maternal cord. Never straying too far from her. It was night black she dragon with starlike spots on her and blood red eyes. Truly a beauty in her own right. So she deserved name worthy of her, she was named Layan.

Time passed, dragons grew exponentially so. All of them developing certain characters. While Drogon is less reliant on the other three and more headstrong and independent. He’s not aggressive, but he definitely goes his own way. Rhaegal is the most outwardly aggressive and ill-tempered. He fights with the others over food, Viserion is generally the mellowest of the three. Faerys and Danny would often call him lazy as a joke. Then there was Layan gentle and kind, always on Faerys shoulder when she was small, and when she grew she allowed Faerys to tuck herself in to dragons soft, warm belly as gentle giant wrapped her tail around her like protective blanket.

Many slaves were freed during years that have passed, Faerys even though older than her sister, surrendered throne willingly and instead was at her sister's side as her advisor. So when Jon Snow came speaking of walkers coming for the wall she was first to encourage Danny to hear him out, when conclusion came and they agreed on Daenerys coming to Winterfell, she marched along her sister.

Winterfell gates opened and soldiers walked in, Faerys saw unwelcoming faces of Northerners, but didn't take it to heart. Jon did warn them of the wairiness his people possessed towards outsiders. So she didn't give it much thought, when he said his hello to his family, he introduced us. His sister was a little bit cold towards Danny as she spoke. But again elder Targaryen understood what these people went trough and couldn't really blame them for their wariness. "It is honour to meet flesh and blood of the honorable." Faerys spoke as she bowed her head, at this Sansa smiled slightly and other lords seemed to lower their guard.

A man told them of the faith that befell Viserion, while both sisters felt their hearts shake and freeze in pain, Faerys decided to have some alone time as soon as her greetings were over. While Daenerys decided to keep those emotions for later in confines of her own chambers.

Soon the meeting of the lords started and all pledged their allegiance. The shock of Jamie Lannister coming to honour his promise of helping was surprise to everyone. He was accepted in to ranks and given instructions on what to do.

Brienne was taking a walk when she heard loud growl. It came from clearing nearby.

"We can't Layan, you know that. People might get scared and we don't need that girl." Faerys was trying to argue with dragon that obviously wanted to take off to the sky. But instead of hearing another complain from she dragon, Faerys was circled by her tail and loud growl emitted from deep within dragons chest as she glared into the forest in front of her.

A woman walked out with her hands in the air, she was exceptionally tall, with sandy yellow hair and./. Eyes bluer than the sea that surrounds Tarth. Soon it was like kick in to the face. Woman standing in front of Faerys was the very one who occupied her mind since she left Tarth.

"Faerys?" Came soft voice, barely loud enough to be heard. But no verbal answer came from silver haired woman, no. Only reply Brienne got was hard pull in to another's arms, and arms circling her but that was enough. Soon lady of Tarth returned the hug just as hard. Not believing that her friend was indeed alive and well.

Minutes turned in to hours as Faerys and Brienne spoke of their life up until that point. Layan became considerably calmer with Brienne when she saw that the woman posed no threat, even asking for pets. Which Faerys found very adorable, the fact that Brienne of Tarth petting a dragon like she would common hound and even more so when said dragon was constantly leaning in to her hand and slightly kicking his left leg. "She likes you. Very much so." Faerys spoke with slight smile and Brienne nodded smiling back giddily. Targaryen was glad that former somber mood that was brought by past and her words was extinguished.

“I have never hurt anyone. Yes, I’ve killed and I’ve damaged but those are things that you can overcome. Mentally, however, I’ve harmed no one but myself.” Those were words that Faerys spoke and that brought onslaught of unpleasant memories of her family dying and what was left of it being nearly killed multiple times. That was the moment when Layan decided to come in and ask for pets from Faerys and Brienne which brought them into their current situation. After seeing wide smile on the face of Brienne she decided to make it even wider. Bowing she then spoke "Would you care for a flight my lady." Face that Brienne made was priceless her mouth hung open as her eyes winded. She nodded nonetheless and soon they found themselves, high in the sky, Brienne's arms around Faerys waist holding on to her so she doesn't fall off. Laugh that emitted from blondes lips made Faerys wish it never stops.

"This is beautiful." Brienne spoke. "It indeed is my friend. Indeed is."

They landed after some time and when Faerys helped Brienne down from the dragon the latter spoke. "You just completely demolished horse riding for me." Laughing Faerys shook her head.

"You are welcome to come and ride with me any day."

"You do realize I am going to take you up on that offer as often as I can right?" Eldest Targaryen nodded with a smile.

[hrshl-hlms]

The Vatican Cameos (1986 DOS game) CASEBOOK

Original link

CHAPTER THREE

Mr. Pelton, Meet Mr. Lestrade

Holmes stopped Pelton's narrative. "No murder weapon? Piedmont was, presumably, stabbed."

"Several times," responded Pelton. "In the upper chest."

"And the face disfigured with acid?"

"Yes."

"And the door locked? Is there another entrance to the room?"

"There is but a single window that looks out over the back of the house. It was bolted shut from within."

"So there is no way into the room, save through the locked door."

"Yes, and the key was found in Piedmont's pocket."

Holmes pulled on his pipe thoughtfully. "Did you hear any argument from across the hall, or other noise?"

"None. It was quiet until I went to sleep. Then, I know nothing until I was awoken."

"I see nothing in your narrative that points a finger of suspicion in your direction. Why do you fear that 'they' will take you?"

Pelton swallowed hard. "Because of the box, sir. On their search they uncovered Mr. Piedmont's brass box hidden between the mattresses. The inspector opened the box and found a personal paper with Mr. Piedmont's name on it. They believed that I had stolen the box and committed the murder."

Holmes sat back, relaxed. "Have the police addressed the problem of the locked door and all of the other concerns that you have placed before us? Or are they adamant to 'find their man' regardless of the circumstance?"

Pelton shrugged his shoulders. "They have said that I am their prime suspect, and while they did not have enough to hold me, they let me go. The moment I was set free, I came 'round to see you."

"And why here, Mr. Pelton?"

"Because of what the inspector said, sir."

"Which was what, pray tell?"

"That the case looked so strong against me that not even Sherlock Holmes could find a difficulty with it." Holmes paused for a moment, then his lips twisted into an agreeable smile. Lights sparkled across his eyes. "I trust that the inspector was one called Lestrade?"

Pelton assured him that it was.

"Ah ha, Mr. Pelton. The police are giving you a clear out in his matter by referring yourself to me! Either Lestrade believes that you are guilty and you have been sent round to challenge me, or Lestrade believes you innocent but cannot convince himself that the circumstantial evidence lies. I do so appreciate the good inspector's devices."

Holmes had just uttered the last syllables of his pronouncement when a hard rap came to our door. On opening it, inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard and two constables entered. Holmes looked up with the mildest surprise.

"You are not accustomed to refering clients to me, Lestrade! Is business at the Yard so great that you need call in others?" Lestrade snarled a response under his breath then fixed his attention on young Pelton.

"Mr. Pelton, I am arresting you in the name of the Queen for the willful murder of one Josiah Piedmont. I ask you to accompany the constables."

Pelton, much more composed, stood to allow himself into the constables care. Holmes, with a wave, turned to Lestrade. "I have not yet completed the interview with my client, Lestrade. I would appreciate five more minutes before you cart him off to Bow Street."

Lestrade thought for a minute. "Five minutes, I remain, then we all go, Mr. Holmes." Holmes nodded his agreement.

"Mr. Pelton, you stated that the alarm came at about 6 in the morning."

"Yes, that's quite correct."

"Lestrade," said Holmes turning to the inspector, "at what time do you fix the murder?"

Lestrade referred to a small notebook. "Between one and two this morning, Holmes. Best we can make out."

Holmes nodded. "While you were asleep, Mr. Pelton. Incidentally, did you hear the lock turn after Mr. Piedmont regained his room last night?"

Pelton was taken aback. "I do not believe it did turn! I recall hearing the footsteps and the unlocking, but I do not recall the door being re-locked."

Holmes nodded in satisfaction. "You are an excellent witness, Mr. Pelton. If you will kindly go with these gentlemen I will see to it that you are cleared."

Pelton flooded Holmes with thanks and great relief.

Lestrade signalled his men to come round and escort our poor Mr. Pelton out of our rooms. Lestrade, however, stayed a bit longer.

"You're convinced of his innocence, then, Holmes."

"Tell me, Lestrade - can Pelton slip through keylocks? Is it possible for a man to stab another brutally, walk across the hall and go back to sleep? Is it possible not to have left any clue in his own room of his mischief? I doubt it."

Lestrade glowered. "I have the cash box, and that is motive. I have the man living opposite, so I have opportunity. What more do I need?"

Holmes lowered his eyes and pulled deeply on his pipe. In a voice almost inaudible came his reply.

"You need the murderer, Lestrade."

"You need the murderer."

-

CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE - CHAPTER FOUR

[richkidznation]

Bolt, i need to introduce you to a bed and four home made foods a day you just can't do that dude, you need to take care of yourself — LEO

[ Bolt ]

"Okay, mom... Look, I'm alright, okay? I already have my aunt and brothers watching me all the time, my parents won't stop calling us- even if I wanted to keep going, I can't. Please stop worrying about me, for real."

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN—enabled by @upsidedownwithsteve + @1986harrington]

[2.2k] or, in which tequila shots and bad decisions lead you straight into fratboy!steve’s bed, consequences be damned. (smut)

part two

.

It was stupid.

The whole thing was so damn stupid.

Ridden with guilt and too many late nights spent in the library, you couldn’t avoid being dragged out by your friends no matter what you said. It had been weeks since you had actively made time for them in your life beyond rushed conversations over meals and the odd catch-ups in between classes. The least you could do was go out with them on a Saturday night like every other college student would be doing.

You deserved to have some fun.

What you didn’t expect was for your friends’ version of fun to look like the Kappa Alpha Kappa Fraternity House on their ‘Girls In Free’ night.

But your friends gave you that look—that stupid, stupid look that they gave knowing you were seconds away from bolting—and it made you want to prove a point. It made you want to prove that you could go out and have fun, even at the expense of spending the night surrounded by handsy, cocky frat boys you would never talk to in your day-to-day life.

You got your hands on a shot of tequila for liquid courage. Then another just to make sure. You found a bottle of beer or two, and by the fourth shot of tequila you knew, somewhere deep down in your inebriated brain, it was a night for fun mistakes and sweet regret.

Fun mistakes came packaged in the drop-dead gorgeous body of Steve fucking Harrington.

Sweet regret came wrapped up in the charming little bow that was Truth or Dare, a dangerous game for someone as competitive as you.

It was a stupid idea to come to the party. It was a stupid idea to take that extra tequila shot. It was a stupid idea to settle yourself in the circle like it was some middle school party. It was a stupid idea to see that challenging glint in Steve’s eyes when he thought you were going to back out the dare and let your body burn with determination, lust and something you weren’t quite ready to face.

“Do you always take your dares this far?” Steve murmured between broken, fast-paced kisses as you tugged his body closer, the party thriving and bumping away two floors beneath you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Shut up,” you retorted breathlessly, hands snaking up his body and tangling your fingers in his hair as he pressed you against the locked door.

The fabric of your dress rose higher up your thigh as his hands found their way to your legs, squeezing the flesh as an appreciative moan tickled against your lips before he lifted you with ease, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist.

You felt his hands squeezing your hips, travelling up your back and fingers teasing the zipper of your dress as his head dipped down to the crook of your neck. The small straps did little to hide your skin from Steve’s attacks, wet kisses pressed against your bare skin and his teeth nipping the spots he knew made your body arch against his.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, eyes falling shut when you felt open-mouthed kisses and soothing touches just below your ear. “Stop being a fucking tease, Harrington.”

“Be patient, princess,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear as he pulled away from the door with a sudden movement. He grinned at the shocked squeal that left your lips, the way your body clung onto his as he shuffled through the room. “Promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

“Big promises from someone who’s only showed me he can suck on my neck like he’s fucking Dracula,” you replied bluntly, the lie slipping easily past your drunken lips.

Because the truth was that you hated it. You hated the way his touch made your body feel warm and fuzzy. You hated the way his kisses made you feel breathless and dazed. You hated the way a stupid dare to straddle his lap and make out with him in front of his frat buddies led to you following Steve blindly up to the higher floors of the frat house.

Steve Harrington wasn’t the kind of guy you associated with.

He was arrogant and egotistical and had the whole campus wrapped around his finger despite the notches on his bedpost that made him look nothing but sloppy and disinterested. He wasn’t the kind of person you’d give the time of day, and vice versa.

And yet here you laid on his fucking bed, dress pooled at your hips and exposing the small lacy thong you slipped on to avoid any obvious lines, and the heated look he was giving you made you clench your thighs together.

“Say what you want, sweetheart, but I can have you eating your own words in minutes,” he muttered, eyes focused on the flimsy material of your panties as he parted your legs, keeping them spread as he began to kneel at the bottom of his bed.

“You’re all bark and no bite, Harrington,” you commented, ignoring the buzz in your veins as his fingers danced along the hem of your panties, his eyes darting back up to you. You hated the way the position made you squirm.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” Steve spoke like it was a question but you both knew the answer, you both knew the feeling was mutual.

“I think you should use your mouth for better uses,” you retorted, propped up on your elbows as the straps of your dress fell off your shoulders but you didn’t care. If Steve kept looking at you the way he was in that moment, that dress would be ripped off you before the sun rose anyways.

“You wanna play that game, sweetheart?”

The grin on his lips was wolfish and predatory, it sent shivers down your spine and should have made you choose your next words carefully. His offer was like a deal with the devil, fun and exciting and so goddamn tempting you didn’t care how dangerous it was.

You wanted to taste sweet regret with Steve Harrington, consequences be damned.

They were tomorrow’s problem anyways. 

“Bite me, Harrington.”

Amusement glimmered in those brown eyes of his, mixed with something wild as he pulled your panties down your legs and over the strapped heels he made no move to remove. His hands wrapped around your thighs, tugging you to the edge of the bed until ass was almost hanging over the edge but before you even had a chance to complain, he was giving you something else to focus on.

You knew Steve Harrington had a reputation on campus. You knew that he had a handful of girls giggling over his every move and idolising him like he was a god. You knew that whatever he wanted, he got and you assumed the rumours were just glorified lies to hide the truth.

You quickly learnt that was not the case.

“Shit,” your lips parted as you felt his tongue hungrily lap up and down your soaking cunt, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep your legs apart whilst he feasted on you like you were his last meal. “Oh shit!”

Your hands fisted the sheets on either side of you, your body arching towards his mouth, needing to feel more of him. The moans you let out were loud and shameless, his name passing your lips like a fucking prayer as his lips wrapped around your clit, enjoying the way you squirmed underneath him.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned against your cunt, eyes focused on the way your tits spilled from the top of your dress, the way your back arched of the mattress as his tongue worked against you, the way the snarky comments were nowhere to be seen. “Lemme hear how badly you wanna come.”

“Please,” you breathed out, chest rising and falling quickly as you felt his nose nudging against your clit. “Please, Steve, fuck—please!”

His eyes fell shut as he moaned, listening to your desperate pleas and needy begs as he worked his tongue in and out of you, his hips involuntarily rolling to feel some friction, to get some relief for his hard cock pressing against the tight material of his jeans.

But he forced himself to keep his eyes open. To watch the way you writhed against the mattress when you finally came, the way your lips parted in a silent scream and your hair sprawled around you on the bed like a fucked out angel, so different to the pristine hairdo you had when you first stepped inside the house.

But it wasn’t enough.

It could never be enough because now he got a taste of it—now that he got a taste of you—Steve was insatiable. He wanted more, he wanted as much as he could get. He wanted to see you break.

“Steve,” you sighed out, all whiny and high-pitched, your eyes glossy as you looked down at him, trying to wiggle away when his tongue rolled against your clit. “T-Too much.”

“You wanted to play,” his voice was low and gruff, muffled as he pulled you closer to him. “’s all mine, fair and square.”

“I-I can’t—”

“C’mon, baby, know you can take one more,” Steve murmured, dark eyes catching yours for the brief second before you threw your head back, whining as his tongue lapped against your soaking cunt.

You just looked so pretty it was mesmerising. The way your body shook beneath him as he pinned your hips to the mattress, the way you ground your hips against his face despite babbling it was too much, the way you cried out his name and the way strings of incoherent curses left your lips as he kept going, as he kept eating like a starved man.

“Atta girl,” he murmured with a smug grin on his face, his lips and chin glistening with your release and his hair messy and dishevelled from your fingers clutching onto him like a lifeline as he made you come one, two more times on his tongue.

Your brain felt fuzzy and your body was tired, and yet there was still a need inside you, the same determination rocking through your body from earlier when he sat across from you in that circle. That need that didn’t disappear as he kissed you senseless or finally tore that dress away from your body. That need that didn’t disappear as you fumbled around with his belt buckle and pushed his shirt over his head.

That need that didn’t disappear until his cock was inside you, so deep inside you that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. That need that didn’t disappear as he fucked you like he hated you, his tempo fast and hard and unforgiving. That need that didn’t disappear as you bit down on his shoulders, trying to muffle the moans and screams from the party downstairs, as you swore you saw white stars flashing in your vision.

That need that disappeared when your body was drained and exhausted, when you couldn’t bring yourself to care about anything else other that the soft kisses left on your stomach as he cleaned you up before he settled on the bed beside you, tugging your body against his and not letting you go.

But the sweet taste of regret was bitter when you woke up the next morning.

Your mouth was dry and your tongue felt like sandpaper, there was a distant and uncomfortable thumping in the back of your head and you felt as though you had been run over by a bus and backed up on again.

The light coming through the open curtains made you wince as you slowly sat up, the sheet falling to your waist and the cold, morning air feeling crisp and chilly against your naked body. You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, letting your brain slowly piece together the events of the night before.

And then you heard a soft groan, an arm around your waist trying to tug you closer.

Your eyes snapped open as you glanced down at the sleeping body of Steve in the bed beside you. The sheet drawn down enough for you to see the scratches on his back and hickeys on his shoulders. His hair was a mess and his lips were parted as soft, sleepy sighs left his lips. But his arm around you was solid and consoling in a way, and it made your stomach turn.

It was a stupid idea to have even agreed with your friends to go to the party, and it was even stupider to let yourself get drunk and sloppy. It was also probably incredibly shitty to leave as quickly as you came, throwing on whatever clothes you could find and bolting from the frat house before you could even care about his friends who watched your walk of shame from his room to the front door, heels in hand and regret on your face.

You didn’t want to stay for the aftermath, to face the consequences of Steve Harrington just yet. In fact, you were quite happy to ignore it whilst you washed away the sour taste of your mistakes with greasy diner food and a bottle of painkillers.

But Steve Harrington was insatiable. He got what he wanted when he wanted it. There was no way in hell he was letting you run off in the morning without another word. And there was no way in hell he was letting you go until he got another taste.

You were his deal with the devil and that just tempted him even more.

.

[accursedhex]

𝙂𝙚𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚? — 4:57 𝘢𝘮.

You were almost certain that neither of you knew what it was you were even cackling about at this moment. The slap of rubber soles upon pavement followed your vocalizations of whimsical exuberance and his rasped voice that urged the both of you forward with a single word to begin your race, “Run.”

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, as well as a generous amount of alcohol. Perhaps challenging each other to a duel of tolerance levels wasn’t the best idea for that evening, especially since his weapon of choice had been a hefty bottle of tequila. Considering the pair of you had ended up lost from your group of companions and somehow lost on the other side of town from where your night of fun had originally begun.

The vendor you had left far behind still waved his arms frantically about, spewing obscenities and various mentions of law enforcement. But at the moment, neither of you cared. Giggling only increasing the further apart you became from the heavyset man that made no other attempts to pursue but continued to spout nonsense that fell of deaf ears.

In all fairness, there wasn’t a hint of malice behind this poorly pulled stunt. Dining and dashing was not something you made a normal occurrence in your life. But after gorging yourself on the greasiest and most delicious street food you could ask for, both you and your friend’s faces dropped in horror to find your wallets tragically misplaced.

“Jackson!” you panted, throat ragged as you fought to find your breath as you both bolted from the scene of your impromptu crime, “Slow down dammit. I... Oh god, I think I’m gonna hurl.”

He howled in response, the grasp on your hand finally dropped as he hooted and hollered his victory, as the two of you were now a safe distance away from the vendor. Finding yourselves now staggering about a riverside walkway. The lamps which lined the paved path shone overhead, illuminating his features. The apples of his cheeks completely flushed and prominent as he beamed, quite pleased with himself.

He howled in response, the grasp on your hand finally dropped as he hooted and hollered his victory, as the two of you were now a safe distance away from the vendor. Finding yourselves now staggering about a riverside walkway. The lamps which lined the paved path shone overhead, illuminating his features. The apples of his cheeks completely flushed and prominent as he beamed, quite pleased with himself.

“Does that mean I win our bet?” He pranced around you as you desperately tried to find your bearings, haunched over, hands on your knees to keep yourself from plopping onto the ground.

Swatting at him unsuccessfully, it was as if you were moving in slow motion as he narrowly dodged the halfhearted attack. Limber on his feet as usual, you sent him an annoyed glare, a huff escaping you, “You do not, I just wasn’t ready to run.”

“Someone’s out of shape,” chortles he, though he had to take a moment himself to swallow harshly. There was no way he wasn’t as parched as you were at this moment.

“Ugh...” you groaned, fanning your face, “Shut up... damn, I think I ate too much though.”

“Me too actually,” earning you another amused chuckle from your friend before a brief silence overtook the scene. Devoid of words, the late night symphony was put on blast in addition to your breathless panting.

The sound of rubber on asphalt, the occasional honk of a disgruntled driver, water gently splashing against the concrete walls. Sirens that echoed throughout the depths of the forest of buildings shrouded together, laughter of a lone couple, wood grating against cement and the rumble of wheels following as a small group glided about on their skateboards.

There was a odd sort of peace to be derived from the scene before you as you were finally able to stand up straight now having caught your breath. The both of you seemed to settle comfortably into the ambiance, leisurely leaning against the railing overlooking the water. Watching the twinkling lights of the staggered building glimmering in the ripples of the dark, swollen body of the river.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had been to relieved as you were right now, stood side-by-side with Jackson as you both drank in the scenery. Your gaze tracing over his defined features as he seemed transfixed on the hypnotizing rhythm of the water and its twinkling reflection of lights.

“Thank you,” you murmur, eyes practically half closed as you meet his eyes once her turns to you.

His look is somewhat quizzical, cocking his head to the side, reminiscent of a curious pup.

“What for?” questions he, inadvertently leaning closer in his search for an answer. Straining to see it in your hazy eyes as you subconsciously mimicked his actions.

“For keeping me company.”

[inkykeiji]

you’re like a drug to me, a luxury, my sugar and gold

character: gojou satoru

genre: smut with a sprinkle of fluff at the end

notes: aaaaah first jjk fic ever!!!! uhhh this is honestly just pure smut and punishment, satoru is a Bad Daddy, and it’s set in a curseless AU | title cred: handclap by fitz and the tantrums

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon/noncon, slight size difference/size kink, belly bulge, spanking with a belt, rough sex, minimal prep, minimal aftercare (at first), toxic and unhealthy relationship (satoru is mean n a bad daddy!), daddy kink/slightly implied ddlg dynamics, praise kink, dacryphilia

words: 3.1k

synopsis:

And although you can—and do—get away with a lot, you can’t get away with everything. A little brattiness he can handle, a little brattiness he thinks is cute. But on the days when you’re really misbehaving, purposefully (or not) breaking every rule, acting out and refusing to listen, rejecting any bargain or compromise with him at all—well, he’s only human.

And he snaps.

Gojou Satoru is a bad Daddy.

He’s a sweet Daddy, a silly Daddy, a Daddy who’s almost incapable of saying no. He’s a Daddy with a massive sweet tooth, a Daddy who frequently allows both of you to have dessert before dinner—sometimes dessert for dinner—and a Daddy who gives his princess nearly everything she desires, weak to your pretty pout and puppy-dog eyes and please, Daddy?’s. He hates to deny you, aches at the thought of you being even just a teensy bit displeased, because he wants his baby happy, always.

It’s his fault, really, you’re saying, insisting, when he calls you a spoiled brat. Because, honestly, it is; Satoru is entitled—he always has been, born with a not silver, not gold, but platinum spoon in his mouth—and his little princess is entitled, too.

Because he gives you anything and everything you ask for the moment the demand leaves your mouth, dotes on you hand and foot, absolutely adores you, lavishing you in the finest silks and prettiest lace, always indulging you just as much as he indulges himself—as much as he has always been indulged, growing up filthy rich.

Because you weren’t always like this; or, at least, you weren’t always this brash about it.

But years of getting exactly what you want, exactly when you want it, has forced your attitude to change, to shift.

You haven’t changed, Satoru tells you one day, a tub full of melty ice cream in his lap as he shovels another spoonful into your mouth, waning sun bathing the penthouse terrace in translucent gold and coral, brilliant colours reflected in his crystal eyes. “I didn’t do anything—I simply revealed your true nature,” A devious little smirk spreads across his lips, eyes glinting in an almost ominous nature, and you shiver. “You’ve always been a selfish materialistic brat, haven’t you?”

Well, you guess he has a point.

And although you can—and do—get away with a lot, you can’t get away with everything. A little brattiness he can handle, a little brattiness he thinks is cute. But on the days when you’re really misbehaving, purposefully (or not) breaking every rule, acting out and refusing to listen, rejecting any bargain or compromise with him at all—well, he’s only human.

And he snaps.

It’s always something little, after a day full of disobedience, that does it, that finally lights the fuse and forces an explosion. Something that would normally be inconsequential, something he’d usually laugh off with a coo and a loving pat to your head.

Because you fought him on bedtime last night, then fought him on going to university this morning. You demanded pancakes for breakfast and when he denied them to you, because he’s got an important meeting in the afternoon and thus hasn’t the time to make them, you refused to eat anything at all—only to whine and bitch and complain about how starved you were for the entire duration of his conference. And yet, throughout it all, he was the perfect picture of patience, endlessly cool and nonchalant in his responses to your multiple tantrums.

Until you rushed into the kitchen in a famished frenzy, diving straight for the cookie jar and shoving three in your mouth.

“Sweets are not an appropriate dinner, baby,”

The words are sighed out in pure exasperation, his thumb and his forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, lids shut tightly.

Eyebrows furrowing, you tilt your head in confusion, speaking around your mouthful. “Since when?”

His eyes snap open, blazing azure glaring at you with such an intensity it makes you flinch, cookie crumbs turning to ash in your mouth.

“Since forever,” he seethes, mask of impassivity finally beginning to break.

“What?” you laugh around the word, but it trembles. “What are you talking about? You rarely enforce that rule—especially since you don’t even follow it yourself!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps, nostrils flaring with a particularly harsh exhale. “I am the boss, and what I say goes,”

“Daddy!” A sock-clad foot stomps against the marble floor as you whine out the word, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “That isn’t fair! You can’t just—”

“Enough with this attitude!” he snarls, moving like a crack of lighting as he lunges at you, lithe arms embracing you in an iron grip. “I can, and I will,”

And then he’s hauling you over his shoulder, one strong arm wrapped around you and pinning you draped over his body, delivering swift, harsh slaps to your ass every time you kick your feet or beat your fists against his back, while every whine and complaint earns you another spank in his mind, mentally tallying them up and vocalizing the thought a moment later.

“You’re being a meanie,”

“That’s twelve,” he growls.

“I don’t care!”

“Thirteen.”

“So what?”

“Fourteen.”

“That’s nothing,”

“Twenty-five.”

And that—that gets you to pause, but not to halt, not to stop, potent brattiness mixing with fury as it boils in your chest, the need to defy, to disobey, burning through your veins.

“I-I can handle that,”

“Thirty,” his voice is calm—serene, almost—and ice cold. There’s an underlying challenge sown into it, daring you to try him again, to utter another word. He’ll go higher, you can almost hear his apathetic voice floating through your mind; he’ll go as high as he needs to in order to teach such an ungrateful little brat a lesson.

Thirty it is.

The buckle of his favourite belt jingles as he undoes it, that dainty clink! forcing shivers to pebble across your naked skin, pressing your chest further into the foot of his bed, fingers curling in cashmere.

You’ve developed a love-hate relationship with that belt; it’s so fun when you get to undo it yourself, gentle fingers tugging and toying as you squirm eagerly in his lap, yet the clank and clattering of that heavy buckle as nimble fingers skillfully unfasten it and pull it from the loops of expensive trousers is almost menacing, carrying with it portentous threats it fully intends to see through.

He never warns you when the first strike is coming, reveling in the way your muscles are coiled in tension, in foreboding anticipation; basking in the surprised yelp that bubbles up in your throat.

“Relax,” he tells you with a callous chuckle, leather squealing between large, smooth hands as he folds it. “And count,”

It’s his usual response, predictable and scripted by this point, but he never seems to tire of it, notes of delight lacing his voice.

And that first blow never counts.

Gojou Satoru may be a bad Daddy by most standards, but his punishments are harsh, brutal, and cruel, and they happen to be one of the only things he takes seriously in life.

There’s rules to each of his punishments—so many rules he’s made you write them out multiple times, until your hand ached and fingers cramped and the heel of your palm was swollen, so they’d stick in that pretty empty little head of yours, so you never forget—and his spankings are no different.

You are not to move until he tells you to. You are not to speak unless spoken to. You are to count each lash, loud and clear before the next strike lands. Each mistake, each misstep and slip-up and refusal to comply, will earn you one extra slap. The tool is to be decided based on the severity of the offence.  

The belt, all rigid rawhide and sharp edges, cuts into the supple flesh of your ass with each easy, nonchalant flick of his wrist, abrasively snapping against you.

Each collision of leather against flesh sears a tingly sting into your skin, biting rapidly rising welts into your ass and sending spiky jolts of agonizing pain bolting up your spine, the pain fading to a dull throb for just a moment before another blow is delivered.

“Gorgeous,” Satoru murmurs to himself halfway through your punishment, the word nothing more than a little huff of breath. You don’t dare respond, simply crying out the next number as he lands another harsh blow to your abused skin. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more beautiful sound, he continues, voice appearing faint and far away, mingling with the combined symphony of the crack of leather and pathetic whimpers muffled by sheets.

“It’s incredible,” he says, louder this time, voice dripping with wonderment, as if he can’t believe he’s created such a magnificent piece—the streaks of blood staining once perfect, unblemished skin; the high-pitched whines and sharp cries of each subsequent number; the resounding slap of the belt against your bare ass that evokes it all.

The whole thing sends a surge of intense power rushing through his veins, the tingling buzz it leaves behind enthralling and invigorating. You don’t need to look at him to know this, don’t need to see the way his eyes shine with it, the way his chest heaves with it, the way his entire body trembles with it—you can feel it in the atmosphere surrounding you, can feel the shift as his ego saturates the air, as his pure superiority bleeds into it, dense and suffocating, stimulating and revitalizing.

It infects your body, seeping in through your skin and flooding your veins, re-instills the need to be submissive, the ache to be good, providing you with the strength to endure.

The punishment lasts for forty-five excruciating minutes, accumulating a total of thirty three spanks—the extra three tacked onto your original punishment of thirty, one for each time you broke a rule. He’s on you in less than a second the moment it’s over, belt dropping to the rug-covered floor with a distinct thump as soft, eager palms roam your sweaty body, lips crushed against yours, still trembling as they spill pitiful whimpers into his mouth.

The luxurious bedroom—all cream and gold and drenched in sunlight—is blanketed by backhanded praises, warning you not to be a brat and just take what he gives. He’s sadistic when he gets in moods such as these, a feral glint in crystal eyes as large hands hastily flip you over—so fast it knocks a gasp of his name from your chest—seemingly unconcerned about the fresh blood oozing from the thin swollen welts that embellish your ass staining his thousand dollar sheets.

“Daddy needs you now,” he growls when you try to protest, breathing erratic as fingers flex on your hips, squeezing and kneading before pressing down hard, a silent order to stay fucking put. “And you’re going to be a good little girl for your Daddy now, aren’t you?”

Of course. Of course, because you are a good little girl, his good little girl.

But he’s a bad Daddy.

And, like a bad Daddy, he defers aftercare—it can wait, he practically snarls as he drags you to the edge of the bed, folding your legs up on either side of your body, knees nearly nudging your jaw; and foregoes prep almost entirely—two slender fingers slipping between your slick folds, prodding your hole and deeming you wet enough to take him.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, when that façade of indifference finally shatters to pieces, replaced with desperation, with urgency, with neediness.

Your head lifts from the plush mattress, neck straining a little as you watch him push his trousers down his thighs through bleary eyes, residual dewdrops of tears clinging to spidery lashes. His cock bobs a little as he kicks the pants off, and it’s just as pretty as he is, smooth and symmetrical and perfect in every way.

“This would be part of your punishment,” he pants out, speaking over your cry of discomfort as he begins to shove his cock into you, little cunt aching as it attempts to accommodate the sudden intrusion. “If you didn’t love it so much, fucking slut,”

“Daddy!” The pet name claws its way up your throat in a yelp, hands scrabbling against his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh through his Armani button-up in an effort to steady yourself, eyes squeezing shut against the severe burn that accompanies the stretch. “Gonna—Gonna tear me in half,”

“You’d think you’d be used to this by now,” Satoru muses, voice already returning to its apathetic playful lilt now that he’s half buried in your cunt, breathing already calmed. A malicious little smirk decorates his lips and he observes you as if awestruck, one of his hands moving to trace the curve of your cheek, cold fingertips soft against your scalding skin.

“So beautiful like this,” he whispers as he finally bottoms out, hips pressed flush against the back of your thighs.

And you are, fresh tears that glitter the way his eyes do in the waning sun streaming down your cheeks, leaving the prettiest streaks of salt staining your flesh; lips swollen from merciless teeth sinking into them, an attempt to silence yourself, to keep those whines and complaints of Stop, Daddy! and Hurts, Daddy! safely stored in your throat.

Your little hole flutters around him, still struggling to adjust to his girth, and his head droops forward, long tongue unfurling from his mouth to lap at the bitter water adorning your face, slow languid strokes from your jaw to your bottom lashes, replacing shimmering tears with viscous saliva.

Saccharine sugar stings your nose, sticky toffee bathed in decadent chocolate and garnished with a touch of vanilla enveloping you in a sickly sweet embrace.

Such a scent—his scent—starkly opposes the vicious snapping of his hips, setting a merciless pace from the very start, blunt nails biting deep half-crescents into your flesh as they hold you in place.

But the pain only heightens the pleasure, contradicting sensations clashing together with every one of his brutal thrusts, cashmere feeling as rough as sandpaper against your raw, wounded ass. Thorns of pain pierce through your abdomen and shoot up your spine, back arching off the bed, and the muscles in your thighs flex and clench with every slam of his cockhead against your cervix.

It’s potent and intoxicating, a heady exhilaration clouding your brain and flooding your veins, and soon there are tears leaking from your eyes again, dribbling into your mouth and mixing with strings of drool that coat the words you’re babbling out.

Blood rushes in your ears, procuring a deafening ring, and you’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, voice vibrating indistinctly in your chest as saliva soaked mewls ooze from your mouth. Your Daddy’s staring down at you, condescension etched into his pretty features, eyes morphing from dainty crystal to the navy of a tumultuous sea, framed by strands of cream and ivory dripping with sweat.

And he’s so big, too big, stuffing you full to the hilt with each ruthless piston of his hips, mattress trembling beneath you from the sheer strength; and it’s so much, too much, you swear you can feel him in your tummy, can see the way your lower abdomen cutely bulges in synchronization with every pounding thrust.

You must say it in some way, in some shape or some form, because the patronization varnishing his features melts away, sharp smirk dissolving into a genuine grin, blue eyes lightening with pure adoration.

“Such a good girl,” you think he’s saying, through it’s hard to tell when your eyelids keep drooping, hard to hear when a symphony of broken moans and hitched whimpers and the sharp slapping of skin against skin blanket the room, reverberating off the walls of your skull. “You’re such a good, good girl for me,”

Yes, Daddy, you want to say, such a good girl for you, only for you.

“Y-Yours,” you manage instead, locking your arms around his neck and clinging to him.

“Mine,” he growls, possessiveness lacquering his eyes, brilliant and bright and shining with devotion. “That’s right, mine,”

It only takes another three thrusts before you’re gushing all over his cock, the intense spasming of your cute little cunt drawing the prettiest whines from the back of his throat as he rams into you.

“Beg for it,” he demands, and although it’s an order, it comes out more like a plead, desperation sown into his voice. “Beg for Daddy’s cum,”

You obey immediately, words spilling from your lips without a second thought, automatic and instinctual. Please, Daddy, gimme your cum? Please, please, pretty please, want your cum, Daddy, fill my belly with it, Daddy, I need it, need it so bad, please?

He gives you what you want only a moment later, cock throbbing almost violently as he fills you with thick, scalding cream—so much that you’re sure it’s dribbling out of you, trickling down your ass and onto his pristine sheets—and you roll your hips up, attempting to milk him for more.

“G-Greedy,” he pants out, but there’s a dazzling smile slapped across his face, and so much love in his eyes it’s nearly overwhelming, a fresh wave of tears casting a gleaming shield across your own.

He notices immediately, both of you wincing a little as he pulls out, a wrecked little whine escaping your mouth.

“My poor little princess,” he’s saying as he untangles his briefs—Balenciaga, this time—from his trousers, abandoned in a heap on the hardwood.

“Daddy,” you rasp, a frown marring his face, fingers encircling your ankles as he helps you unfold your stiff legs.

“I know, I know,” he’s murmuring as gentle hands pull the soft clothing up your silky thighs. “It hurts, I know baby, Daddy’s gonna make it feel better now,”

A shiver courses through your body, and he tuts, nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off before he hoists you up and drapes it over your shoulders, tenderly threading your arms through the sleeves.

It’s cozy, and warm, infused with his scent—melted sugar and expensive cologne—and you snuggle into it, weak arms pulling the material tighter around your body, swathing it in comfort. Tears prick your eyes again, blearily blinking them clear as you glance up to find him backing away. A noise of indignance sounds in the back of your throat, eyebrows knitting together as you make grabby hands for him.

“I’ll be right back, princess,” he reassures you as he laces your fingers together and allows you to pull him back towards you, voice soothing like a lullaby. Fingers trail along the curve of your cheek then trace the line of your jaw, palms smoothing hair back from your face. “Daddy’s just going to go get the first aid kit so he can clean you up, okay?”

“‘N then food?”

He coos with a little chuckle, cupping your head as he tilts it up towards him, eyes overflowing with fondness.

“Yeah, baby, and then food. Whatever you want, it’s yours,”

Gojou Satoru may be a bad Daddy, but he is also your Daddy, and that makes him the best Daddy.

[rendezvouswithslytherins]

Wildfires (Smut)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Y/N earned herself detention with Hagrid but the night takes a turn and she finds herself alone with Draco in the woods.

Warnings: 18+ | Explicit Sex (Degradation, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Choking)

“What was that?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“You didn’t hear that? It sounded really close to us…”

“Y/N, the only thing I can hear is your annoying voice."

Your eyes narrow at the back of Malfoy's head, his platinum blond hair unruly with remenants of the the wilderness and the only visible thing in the pitch black. You mimicked the boy's movements as he paved a path through the thick forest, brushing away branches and staggering at missteps that you were careful not to repeat.

Originally, both of you began the night in the company of Hagrid and Fang for detention. The four of you ventured into the Forbidden Forest where you and Draco would act as an extra set of eyes for Hagrid who was on a mission to discover anymore slain unicorns. Fang, however, scared himself with the snap of a twig under his giant paw and bolted into the trees as Hagrid blundered after him.

Now, it was just the two of you wandering the forest without any real sense of direction.

"I think we're going the wrong way."

"We're not."

"None of this looks familiar."

"Everything looks familiar. It's a forest and there are trees everywhere, Y/N."

"I think the castle is the other way."

"Honestly, I'm starting to empathize with Potter if he has to put up with this everyday."

"Yeah, like you're such a joy to be around."

"Just shut up and walk, would you?"

But you don't.

You turn around in the opposite direction, ready to find your way back to the castle without him when his fingers enclose your wrist and whip you around to face him. His rough movements cause a gasp to escape your lips as your bodies collide together. He towers over you, his eyes challenging the darkness of the night and gazing down at you with such intensity that you wonder if the sensation in your legs is the same one would feel sinking into quicksand.

"I wasn't asking, Y/N."

His eyes flicker across your face, daring you to say or do something. And then your lips crash together. Your heavy breaths create a space between your lips and Draco seizes the opportunity to slide his tongue against your own. His fingers wrap around your throat and tighten until his rings leave indents in the flesh.

"If you're going to act like a brat, I'm going to treat you like one."

Your back hits a nearby tree while Draco's kisses migrate from the edge of your jawline, to your neck, and then to your shoulder. Your body blooms a fire wherever there is a trace of his touch, a trail of wildfires left in his wake as his hands glide along the back of your thighs and rest on the skin hidden beneath your skirt.

He kisses you deeply once more before kneeling in front of you and hooking one of your legs onto his shoulder.

You moan as Draco's tongue flattens to taste every inch of you. He is smooth and intricate yet desperation seeps from the fleetness of every action. He groans when your fingers grip tightly into his hair, urging him closer to your body.

Sensing the oncoming spasms, he dives his head deeper until he disappears fully from view underneath your skirt. He coaxes you over to the edge with long strokes between your legs. Your body submerges itself into wave after wave of warmth, gasping for breath but not in any hurry to reach the surface of pleasure.

Once your eyes open, Draco is already on his feet with a face glistening in the moonlight, coated in you. You kiss him, tasting yourself on his mouth.

"Who knew you were such a little whore?"

Your whimper is cut short when a finger slides against the slick of your core. The immediate touch on your sensitive heat causes your eyes to water in pleasurable pain. He adds another finger and moves them in deviously slow patterns.

"So wet for me." He hums.

His hand takes their place, palming you. Your body arches into his hold, grinding against his hand for any sort of release but he removes it and places it gingerly on your cheek. He leans down and you return the kiss. Then you feel him.

Draco slides into you, burying his face into your shoulder overwhelmed by the way you mould so perfectly around him.

Your head falls back, the night sky being the last thing in your sight before your eyes flutter close again from absolute bliss. He grunts with every thrust, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring your body closer to him.

"Does this turn you on? Being fucked in the woods where no one can hear you scream my name” he growls into your ear.

"Y-yes please fuck me, Draco." Your explicit response causes Draco to violently thrust into you, clawing his nails into your skin until he is in control of your hips.

"Say it again." He grabs your face, forcing you to look him dead in the eyes.

"Fuck me, Draco!" He crashes your lips together, stifling both of your moans with the kiss. His hand lifts one of your legs up, holding it against his side. The new angle allows him to reach deeper into you where you see him enter and exit your stomach.

Your voice is hoarse, screaming his name one last time as the familiar weight builds inside your stomach. His movements slow to a sloppy rhythm, groaning against your lips before spilling inside of you. You feel each other's body rise and fall, trying to remember what it was like to breathe a breath not shared between the two to you.

The night breeze cools your hot and sweaty skin and fills your lungs with refreshing air. Draco smooths out your skirt and pecks your lips with the lightness of feather.

"Round two?"

[bibbykins]

Insufferable

A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one

Word count: 3.6k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.

Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too

There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.

You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.

Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.

You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.

Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.

Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.

Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.

“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”

“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?

You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”

“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.

“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.

“No, but I know how you look naked-”

“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.

“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.

“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.

“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”

“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.

You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-

You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.

Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-

“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.

Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?

You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.

You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.

The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.

“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.

He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.

You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.

“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”

“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.

“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.

You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.

Old habits die hard.

Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.

Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.

The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.

Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.

You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.

“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.

You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?

Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.

You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.

He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.

I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.

I’m so tired.

-Mom

Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.

“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”

He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.

No thanks to him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.

“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”

“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.

“Wh-”

He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.

However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.

"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.

You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”

Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.

He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.

His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.

He froze.

Fuck, what food do you like?

He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.

Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.

Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.

He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.

Tip Jar

[ressjeon]

in this paradise (moodboard teaser)

pairing: survivor!jungkook x fem!reader

summary: In an attempt to escape what's been planned for him, Jungkook hopped on a ship only to face a tragedy that he didn't expect and enter you who somehow couldn't believe to find company in this isolated land. Was this fate or was this just a temporary chance of bliss as a challenge for you both?

rating: 18+ 

genre: tropical island!au, survivor!au, strangers to lovers, angst, smut, romance & fluff

warnings: some accidents mentioned, lots of teasing, swearing, sexual tension, explicit sexual content, multiple sex scenes (beach, treehouse?, etc.), pet names, skinny dipping, finger sucking, thigh riding, unprotected sex (no condoms in da island peeps), handjob, oral (m. receiving), nipple play, fingering, riding, jk takes it from the back too. (warnings could change)

a/n: this wasn't the first JK fic I planned to post but he was in Summery outfit on Sowoozoo so I had to bump it up among other WIPS 😅. 2 years ago, I got intrigued when I saw the theme song mv of this TV series on my YT dash, the mc has the same name as me and it was Jungkook who first came into when some scenes (4 in exact, including this one) flashed in my mind. The plot is completely different though as I only borrowed some elements of it ♡.

ps. this moodboard was damn hard to make T.T

Check it out here!

― masterlist — navigation ― wips

A sudden ruckus behind your shoulder alerts you immediately, and you turn to see a little movement in the tall grass among the trees.

At last, food.

You’ve been hungry for hours since you wake up so it would be amazing to find something to eat since it's lunch already. Getting into position, you raise one arm up with a spear above your head, the other hand holding up front just in case it attacks you.

Readying yourself as you approach the moving grass, you part them with the other hand but to your surprise, you find a half-naked man in dirty white jeans with dark hair, his doe-eyes staring at you in shock.

"woah, woah, woah" an instant fear crosses his eyes, both of his hands suddenly waving in front in surrender causing him to wince a little, allowing you to spot the wound below his right shoulder so you lower down your arm.

He’s good-looking, add the harsh rays of sunlight looming over him from above to that.

You recover instantly, locking your eyes to his with a death glare as you move your spear in front of you.

“who are you?” you demand, suspicious eyes raking his form as you come nearer to him. He could still be a threat for all you know, best to take precautions.

“jungkook” he pants, reaching out with open palms to shake your hands. He hopes that you'll deem him as harmless by doing so and looks at you pleadingly when you don’t answer him.

“y/n” you respond gently a bit after dropping your spear on the side, feeling a spark when your hand touches his, of how gentle he’s shaking your hand despite the worry in his eyes.

He sighs in relief but pain crosses his handsome face, and he’s wincing even more this time. You manage to catch him before his body reaches the ground.

“my bad” he chuckles while trying to stand up, somehow disregarding that he almost collapsed. You really wonder how he can joke about his situation.

“you’re wounded you know” you scoff, inspecting his wound straightaway.

“yeah but at least you’re here now” he grins and winks at you as he positions himself on your lap, making your eyes roll.

“shut up or i won’t help you” you chide, pulling out the remnants of splinters from his wound with warning and he pouts.

“okay, okay, i’ll behave” he whines as he stays still lying down on his stomach and you’re trying to ignore how you can feel his defined abs on your legs.

“why are you wandering here in the forest while your wound is still fresh?” you ask and Jungkook smiles when he hears the concern in your voice. Ngl, he was shit scared of you earlier, if it weren’t for his wound that’s slowing him down and you’re pretty face he would’ve bolted instantly.

“I was looking for medicinal herbs” he answers, shaking his injured shoulder a little and you smile at this cute antic, okay he’s adorable.

“stop moving” you tsks.

“and what exactly is a beautiful girl like you doing in this forest too?” he questions before you can even answer him right away.

“i was looking for food,” you pause, stating the obvious.

“so that’s why you have a hunting spear with you. where did you even find materials to make it?"  he prods, a lot of curiosity in his voice and you smile again, he can’t see you from this angle anyways so it’s good.

“on the shore, a lot of things wash up there” you hum, finishing up the make bandage on his shoulder using the thin jacket that was wrapped on your waist earlier.

You feel him nod and huff a breath like he wants to ask more.

“right, right. how about we search the beach later? maybe we can find more stuff that we can use” he asks as he slowly gets up from your lap, displaying an excited smile and you nod.

“does it hurt?” you ask impassively and he shakes his head.

You help him in standing up, carefully assisting on his elbow for him to not put weight on it and he laughs again. He’s been giddy all this time and you still have no idea why.

"i'm okay" he snorts and you elbow him.

"what's funny?"

You frown, brows scrunching as you eye him with annoyance. As much as you're still wary of him, you’re starting to get confused on how he can make you react this fast in everything that he does.

"you seem so caring now compared to earlier" he teases.

"you needed help, i'm not as heartless as you think" you glare at him and retrieve your spear from the ground.

“your words are actually the opposite of your actions” he continues.

“well, aren’t you an excellent observer” you snicker as you look around to check if you missed anything.

Jungkook on the other hand is just observing how you effortlessly gather your stuff with you. How for some reason, you still look gorgeous with your white mini sundress, a contrast at how tough you look with your tools on you.

"what?" you bark, raising one brow at him and he stops himself from laughing this time. He just shrugs with a playful smile and walks away, urging you to follow him as you both venture into the woods.

“jungkook” you call him, walking beside him now.

“yes?” he questions playfully, not sparing you any glance while looking up at the coconut trees around you.

“you better be taking this seriously after you heal” you huff.

“i already am, i swear! you have no faith in me, im offended” he complains with that fake hurt in his voice and you scowl at him before walking faster, now leading the path instead. He laughs louder this time, following you into some stream or river.

All jokes aside, Jungkook is truly relieved at finding another survivor washing up on the same island as he is. At least he won’t be alone while waiting for rescue anymore, plus you’re hot as hell so this won’t be bad after all.

taglist: @jungkooksbroski​ 

permanent taglist: @bluesharksandfish @taebkyun @sheprocrastinatesalot​ @iamscharene​

[glowingbadger]

Can you write Fem!Reader that Felix is crushing on falls asleep on him on the couch and he gets all flustered.

Awww precious flustered Felix, how lovely~

Felix (FE3H) x Fem Reader - fluff, SFW

Numbers and letters start to wander and blur on the page before you. Keeping your head upright is challenge enough, but the struggle to wrestle this information into something cogent and actionable is positively draining. When you'd offered to help with the next batch of supply reorder forms, you hadn't quite realized how involved they would be- and after a day of marching and training and memorizing mapped strategies, the greatest battle you face now is against your heavy eyelids. At least you'd found a quiet corner of the library to settle onto a well-worn couch while you work. Try to work, at least.

"There you are."

You glance up over the parchment at the familiar voice, then smile- perhaps a little too earnestly.

"Hi Felix. Sorry, were you looking for me?"

He scoffs, a light pink dusting across his fair complexion.

"No, you just- you left this at the training grounds." he holds out a scrap of fabric, which you take. It's only a cheap handkerchief, hardly worth hunting someone down over. You smile and tuck it away for the time being.

"Thanks Felix, and sorry for the trouble."

He doesn't respond at first, but his narrowed gaze seems to be scrutinizing you intently. You try to think of some way to break the silence, but he sets himself down on the couch beside you before you've come up with any ideas. He leans close, his brow creased.

"You look awful."

You give an awkward half-laugh, your papers near forgotten in your lap,

"Thanks- you're a real sweet talker, you know. Has Sylvain been giving you lessons?"

Felix scoffs and sits back on the cushions, crossing his arms,

"That's not what I meant and you know it. You're pushing yourself too hard, and you look like you're about to fall over."

It's honestly sweet, albeit in a very Felix-way. You smile warmly at him, which he appears to intentionally ignore. Then, you shrug and say,

"Well, I offered to help, so I have to do my best."

With a sigh, Felix grumbles,

"Give me something to do to help you. I won't sit here and watch you waste away from being overly-charitable."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"I'm offering," he says with a scowl, "stop being so difficult."

He's avoiding your gaze like he always does when he's nice to you, and you smile sheepishly.

"Here," you say, handing over a small stack of papers, "These are the ones I've already filled out- can you review them to make sure I didn't screw anything up? That way I won't have to spend the time double checking them."

He sets to work without a word, and you continue with the forms you'd set on your lap. The two of you work together in comfortable silence, though you'll admit to a brief flutter in your chest at the occasional brush of physical contact as you sit side by side. You mentally scold yourself for getting worked up over something so silly. Surely Felix would scoff if he knew such trivial contact could distract you so thoroughly. He's shy about emotional matters, sure, but you've no doubt that he thinks little of just sitting together.

And you're, frankly, completely wrong. Felix feels like his skin is scorched with a hot iron every time your bodies touch. Focusing on the task in front of him takes every ounce of discipline he can muster, and even then, his pulse speeds when your arm brushes his. He hates it, and he hates that he seeks it out, anxiously waits for the next opportunity to feel you there beside him.

It's at least another hour before the end of the paperwork seems near. Just a little longer, Felix thinks, and he'll make sure you've eaten something and that you reach your quarters safely. His brow lowers. He doesn't need to do all of that- you're an adult and can take care of yourself. But... he hadn't seen you at the dining hall that night, and you really should at least eat. If he finishes before you do, perhaps he'll go get you something. Ugh, no, that's the kind of unnecessary gesture Sylvain would do to get on someone's good side. Felix doesn't need to get on your good side. He just wants you near at all. For some reason.

He dares to glance over to you, but then his frown only deepens. You're slightly slumped, your eyes have fluttered shut, even though your hands still grip one last checklist in your lap. You sway just slightly. You're leaning forward on the couch. Felix's hand bolts out just in time to nudge you back, but as a result, your body slackens towards him until you're resting fully on his shoulder. His eyes widen, and he can feel his face burning. He opens his mouth to protest at first, but somehow, he can't bring himself to make a sound.

You breathe deeply and nuzzle against him, and his heart feels ready to pound straight through his chest. His body goes stiff from head to toe, unwilling to move even an inch as you lean on him. He glances down at the paper's he'd been reviewing, but suddenly it's utter nonsense to him. How can he think straight with the warmth of your body against his, the scent of your hair, your steady breath along his shoulder and even brushing his neck.

Calm yourself already, he scolds himself, she can't just sleep like this- just get the work done and-

And what? Wake you up? The thought doesn't please him in the slightest. You obviously need your rest, or he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. Then, the only thing to do is...

How much time had passed? Had you ever finished all those forms? You can't possibly discern the answer to either of the first questions that enter your mind as you toe the edge of consciousness. You must be more tired than even you realized. You feel like you're floating, and some wonderful scent is circling your senses- something earthy and masculine and... familiar.

"Relax, I'm just bringing you to your room," he says, his voice gentler than you've ever heard it, "Go back to sleep- you need your rest. I've got you."

Your eyes flutter open. You look up, and see Felix. You're in his arms- he's carrying you out of the library. What in the world is going on??

All you manage is a sleepy little groan.

[jiye0ngs]

ESTEEMED RIVAL, BELOVED NEMESIS — wherein a reunion with a good old (not-so-) enemy of yours takes you by surprise.

“KAYDEN?”

you only say this now as a particularly scathing lighting bolt hits you. ouch, okay, maybe people weren’t really joking when they said things about kayden break still being as strong as ever despite his (rumored) state of injury, but that was not the point. the point was that you, while gathering massive amounts of charged energy on the ground, were confused as fuck out of your mind, and kayden, also gathering a tremendous amount of electricity, was staring at you with the same bewildered stare you gave him.

“you — “ kayden shields himself from your attack once you get back up on your feet, his once crazed voice now watered down with pure bemusement. “you? how the hell did you come here?”

“i could say the same for myself,” a nervous laugh escapes you after a strike of lightning tears your protective barrier down. “haha, long time no see?”

you hit him. kayden glares — “what the hell, you bastard.” — then hits you back. you’re sent flying, of course, which kayden takes as a perfect opportunity to start talking again. “why the hell did you come here to fight me? we put an end to this a long time ago.”

you cough, then push outward a wave of power that breaks down the whole building kayden was standing on. “in my defense, they told me i was fighting some newbie in the top 200!” you yell over the rubble that had collapsed on top of him. “i literally don’t know why the location they sent me managed to bring me to with kayden break! and i didn’t really recognize you earlier from all the lightning, so."

“huh.” kayden makes a face as he emerges from the ruin. he’s not ticked off yet, but you were getting there. “that sucks. well, you know i’m not one to turn down a challenge anyway, right?” the air turns crisp, electric. the crazed smile comes back again. “it’s been a while. suit yourself.”

“damn…” this is what you cough out after the last of the trememndous bolt of electricity dies out. you stand up – on wobbly feet, since a taste of kayden break’s killer move can do that to a person – and get ready to charge again, but to your surprise…

“mr. kayden!” a teenaged boy calls out from across the field, a jacket in his hands. beside him was another man, and holy shit, was that kartein? “please don’t!”

“mr. kayden!” a teenaged boy calls out from across the field, a jacket in his hands. beside him was another man, and holy shit, was that kartein? “please don’t!”

you stare at kayden. he purses his lips.

“…so you wanna tell me about the shit you’ve been up to while you disappeared from the underworld?” you deadpan. kayden looks away, e - embarrassed? the great kayden, embarrassed? you exhale. “so that’s your apprentice, huh…and what the hell is that fuckface doing here?”

“you mean kartein?” kayden snorts. “that’s none of your business. neither is my apprentice any of your business. now, shut it and let me–“

“kayden,” kartein, unaware of the important talk you two were having, cuts in. he taps his stupid expensive watch two times. ugh, the garish bastard. “hurry up.”

kayden grumbles in kartein’s general direction, and then he looks over at you. he couldn’t look less intimidating even if he tried. “whatever challenge you have in mind for me in the future, don’t even think about it.”

“yeah, yeah,” you yawn. “well, at least it was good while it lasted. look on the bright side! i had fun even if we got this all mixed up.”

kayden rolls his eyes. “sure, whatever.” he begins to walk away, then pauses. “i mean it. if any of us fight again, one of us will end up in the grave.”

“oh, is this your way of saying you care for me?”

lightning crackles across the sky. “why, you –“

“i’m kidding,” you chuckle. then you stare at him, deadpan. “like i fear that shit. i know, break, i’ll get injured, i’ll die, yadda yadda. now you go back there. because seeing –“ you gesture in the apprentice and kartein’s direction, “– whatever’s going on, at least it’s good to see you’re not dead and whatnot.“

kayden exhales, smiling slightly. it’s startling when he doesn’t smile with a maniacal grin. “same goes to you.” then he snaps back into his usual Kayden Mode. “don’t call. i don’t have to hear from you again.”

he turns his back completely, trodding off to the pair waiting for him across the field. you sigh. so that’s what happened, huh? well, rumors be damned. again, at least that bastard was alive. it would be a shame if such a great punching bag sparring partner (or whatever) like him would cease to exist.

with that , you head back.

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Gwynriel- when Gwyn confesses to Azriel about being in love with him but he thinks he isn't good enough for her so he runs away, but while he's gone Gwyn gets injured and then he confesses too

It's been a couple weeks since I got this one but I finally got around to it. I hope you enjoy it and please stick around for the ending it's my favorite part. also if anyone likes it and wants to send me more prompts my inbox is always open

‘hold me until we are all but dust’

“Azriel,” she held his hands in her own, gripping them as she looked into his eyes. “Azriel, I think-no I know you are my mate. And I know that you struggle with conveying your feelings so you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t know that,” She felt her eyes begin to water and she huffed out a laugh. “That I love you, and I didn’t think it would ever have been possible for me to feel this way after what had happened to me. And god did I want it, but only in my wildest dreams and fantasies did I think that even a fraction of how I feel now, was possible. But you, my shadowsinger, have exceeded any expectation I could have ever hoped for and I know there will never be anyone else who can make me feel as safe, has been my friend, challenges me, and infuriates me as much as you do.”

“Gwyn,” he breathed.

She delicately cupped his face in her palms, gently wiping a tear away. Gwyn whispered, “you idiot I love you.”

“Gwyn,” he said again. So rarely was he at a loss for words but it seemed he could say nothing more than her name. The words were there, screaming at him to be voiced, pleading, begging, and yet he could do nothing. He didn’t deserve her, in what world was this beautiful, spirited female allowed to love him. Everywhere Azriel went, he hurt and destroyed but he would not hurt her. Gwyn deserved to thrive, to grow, but he was all darkness, shadows, and endless voids. He was where light and warmth went to die. “Gwyn,” he said one last time and opened his mouth to voice every incoherent thought he had, in his mess of a mind. But once again no words came.

“Hey.” she forced him to look at her. “Hey. I am not asking for you to say anything back and when you are ready you will tell me but I just needed you to hear it. Ok?” she turned away from him but not before he caught the slight look of disappointment. She didn’t look back.

Azriel stood there minutes after Gwyn had left, stunned. He had hurt her, he had let her down and the thought of ever doing that again left him hollow and with an urge to break something.

Subconsciously he felt his shadows begin to wrap and weave around him, folding Azriel into his own darkness.

He opened his eyes to find himself at the gates of rosehall. The house was in a corner of the night court where few lived. Outside the limits of velaris, but far from the horrors of the court of nightmares. Azriel’s mother loved it but he knew sometimes she felt suffocated from the simplicities of what life had become. His mother craved adventure and excitement, the domestic life was one she still wasn’t fond of.

Az hadn’t been planning a visit but might as well see his mother since he was here. He knocked on the gates, the magic recognizing his own, and opened.

She was sitting on a rocking chair, knitting and quietly humming to herself. She was only a few centuries older than himself but illness caused her to look much older.

She sighed not looking at him. “What did you do?”

“Can’t I just want to see my beautiful mother every once in a while?”

She rolled her eyes seeing through his bullshit. “You do see me, sometimes I think you’re here too often. So I ask again, what did you do?” Maybe it was magic, some gift, maybe it was just mother’s intuition but somehow she always knew.

He kissed her on the head and began to make way to the room he kept in the house. “The sickness is finally getting to you, you’re making things up.”

She snorted, “Hunny you’ll know the day this thing beats me but it sure as hell won’t win without a fight.”

“Of course mom.”

“It’s alright I’ll get it out of you eventually.” She winked at him as he winnowed to his room. Azriel heard her mumble “won’t even use the damn stairs anymore.” and he chuckled softly.

Within seconds Azriel collapsed on his bed, closing his eyes to ignore the tug he felt within him. He wasn’t running, he was doing what was best for Gwyn. That’s a lie, the subtle hiss sent shivers up his spine. Azriel shut his shadows out too. She didn’t need him and he didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t sleep, when he slept he was drowning in nightmares. For five days he cared for his mother, catching up on the occurrences of each other's lives. Azriel was careful to avoid Gwyn in his recaps. And every day he could tell his mother was growing more and more concerned. He desperately wanted to be with her, he could feel the pull in every inch of his body but Azriel had always been stubborn, so he stayed with the knowledge that what he was doing was the right thing.

He felt his mother watching him, studying him until finally, she spoke. “Az is this extended visit about that girl.” she paused trying to think. “The redhead? For the love of god this stupid illness, I can’t remember her name, Gwyn? Was it?”

Azriel’s eyes flitted away giving her confirmation her guess was right. His mother sighed, grabbed her cane, and began to stand. He got up to help her only to be met by a dagger-eyed glare that said you help me and I cut your arms off. She was several inches shorter than him but as his stubborn mother hobbled over to him, she held out an arm for him to take. He took it without hesitation but the question remained on his lips.

“We are going for a walk.” she beat him to it.

They walked in silence, ever so often her arm clutching his tightly as if she were about to fall. Memories flashed of his mother before she was sick. When she could not stay still for more than a moment, even centuries-old and still she had carried a youthfulness with her that could not be replicated.

As if she could read his thoughts she raised her eyebrows, “I’m fine.”

“I would never suggest you weren’t.” Although they both knew she wasn’t fine, denial was bliss for those with limited days. His mother studied Azriel as he looked around at the plethora of roses covering the entirety of the gate.

“I hate them.” she scrunched her nose in disgust at the bright flowers as Az snorted.

“Then why don’t you do something about them.”

“They were here before me and they will be here long after me, what right do I have to disrupt them from their home?” She paused. “To the displeasure of my eyes and nose, I will not be moving them.”

They continued their leisurely walk until they finally reached a well. It was a considerable distance outside the boundaries of what was her home. She began to fill up the bucket with water from the well. It was a slow process for his mother's stubbornness forbade him from helping her. When she was finished she grabbed the pail and walked away from him leaving Azriel behind.

“Wait-”

She turned to face him. “Close your mouth, my dear, you wouldn’t want to swallow a fly,” and kept walking.

“Are we not-” he fumbled for his words. “Going to talk about her.”

“Well, I came out here for some fresh water.” She looked at him innocently. “Would you like to talk about her?” His damned mother played him. Her gaze softened.

“I may be sick but I know how to get my son to talk to me even when his own stubbornness refuses.”

He sighed. “I will never doubt you again.”

She sat down on a bench a few feet from the well and motioned for him to join her. “Now tell me what happened.”

He was quiet for a second before he spoke. “Gwyn, she, she told me she loved me.”

“And do you love her back?”

Without hesitation, Azriel responded softly. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then why are you here with me and not with her.” Azriel looked away. “Is this female your mate?” He nodded. “And you’re in love with her?” He nodded once again. “The female you have been looking for your entire life wants to be with you and you ran away?”

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair. “It is more complicated than that.” “Why?”

“Because- because I don’t deserve her. Gwyn, she’s full of this light and she has a spirit unlike anyone I have ever met and I know that I cannot give her what she needs.”

His mother appeared speechless for a moment before bursting out into a fit of laughter. He scowled at her. “You men are fools.” It was Azriel’s turn to be speechless. “Listen to me, is she worth it?”

“God yes.”

“Then it is not your place to decide what she needs. I have never been one to sugar coat and I won’t start now, there is a chance that this may crash and burn. But you have to decide if the possibility of pain and rejection is worth letting yourself be happy. Gwyn is telling you that she wants to take the leap with you and that regardless of whatever you may think, she believes you are worth it.”

Azriel stared straight ahead as his mother spoke. But she forced him to look at her. “Azriel, it’s not selfish to want to be happy. And this female makes you happy.”

At that moment Azriel felt a lurch in his chest. A tug stronger than any he’s felt. It was intense, it was dizzying, it took over every one of his senses. “Gwyn. it’s Gwyn she needs me.”

His mother gave him an incredulous look. “Then what the hell are you doing here? Go to her.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. Azriel didn’t think, he just let his shadows wrap around him and instinct took over.

He opened his eyes and looked around. His eyes caught a flash of red, he bolted and found Gwyn laying on the ground limp. She was bleeding. No No No. Too much blood. His heart was a drum in his chest. Azriel, as gently as he could, lifted her into his arms. There was an arrow sticking out of her chest, just barely missing her heart. “gwyn. Gwyn. GWYN.” Finally, her eyes opened slowly. Her lips were purple and her skin was a sickly shade of white. He ripped off his own coat and wrapped it around her.

“Az” she croaked and let out a groan of pain. “It seems the Illyrians don’t like me very much.” She whispered each word a struggle to speak. Her eyes drifting closed.

“Shhh don’t speak don’t speak. Gwyn, my love, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

“Take it out.” she huffed.

“If I do that you’ll bleed out and I need you to live.” In his mind, Azriel screamed for Rhys. Over and over he thought the words. Gwyn’s bleeding out I can’t move her, we’re deep in Illyrian territory please come quick.

Seconds passed and it took every inch of concentration for Gwyn to keep her eyes open. Azriel watched her internal struggle, knew the feeling of being on the edge, how it would be so easy just to close your eyes. To rest.

“Please Gwyn” his voice broke. “I need you to- I need you.”

He just barely heard the words. “Why?”

“Because-” Azriel took a deep breath. “You make every moment better. Because I have lived 500 years and yet you still find ways to surprise me. Because I have never known what it meant to love and be loved as fiercely and absolutely as we love each other. You never gave up on me, not once, because you are stubborn and determined and I could walk this world for millennia more and I know without a doubt in my mind I could never find anyone like you. Even if you weren’t my mate they would never and could never compare to you.” He took another breath. “And I know that I hurt you but I need you to live to be mad at me, live to scream at me for all the things we both know I did wrong, live to hurt me as I hurt you, I don’t care just please Gwyn. I need you to live.”

“Say it.” Azriel laughed a shaky, desperate, nervous laugh.

“You idiot, I love you.” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers, and held her close to him. Azriel had never been religious but in that moment he begged and pleaded and prayed to the mother, to the cauldron, to whoever was up there watching that this was not the end. This couldn’t be the end.

[whumperooni]

for shame

Pairing(s): Natsuo Todoroki x Sister!Reader, Enji Todoroki x Daughter!Reader

Tags/Warnings: incest, feelings of shame and humiliation, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, breeding/pregnancy talk

Word count: 2k

A/N: This was brought on by a big brained nonny. I had a lot of fun daydreaming this/writing this ♡

It’s been a long day for Natsuo- a hard test, coffee spilled on his favorite jeans, his phone charger stolen, his essay given a poor grade; all of that added up to a long day for him.

A shit day if he’s being honest- one that he thinks can’t get much worse.

He’s proven wrong, of course, whenever he gets home and opens the front door only to be met by loud moans. His mind first jumps to “fucking Touya brought home another girl and is banging her on the couch again” and his nose wrinkles along with the thought, an aggravated huff leaves him.

It’s only when he hears the squeal of “Daddy! Daddy!” that he realizes that those loud cries sound very familiar.

Natsuo gulps, frozen in the middle of toeing off his shoes, and stares down the hallway with wide eyes.

There’s...there’s no way. You aren’t- he’s not- no. No. If you were going to fall into something so horrible and ruining it wouldn’t be with him, it would be with-

Natsuo slams the breaks on that thought before it can finish and shakes his head, desperately tells himself that he’s mistaken.

It’s not happening. It can’t be happening.

Another loud whine and Natsuo gulps, finds his feet taking him to the living room despite his mind screaming at him to just turn around and leave the house for another good three or four hours.

There’s a gasp and a whimper that sounds right before Natsuo peeks inside the living room and it’s something that Natsuo thinks is horrible simply because it sounds so hot.

Please don’t let this be what I think it is, Natsuo pleads to whatever gods may be listening to him. Please don’t let it really be happening. Please don’t let it be with him.

The gods don’t listen- that or they’re just being cruel, spiteful.

Natsuo peeks into the living room to find his sweet, beloved sister in their father’s lap- your hips arched into big hands, your small ones gripping onto broad shoulders as Enji Todoroki thrusts his cock into his daughter’s soaked little cunny.

All at once, Natsuo’s heart breaks, his temper boils, his fists clench, his face flushes with rage and horror and shame.

Rage because how could his father do this to his daughter, to Natsuo’s most treasured and adored sister. Rage because how could his sweet little sister let their father do this- how could you let him fuck your wet, wet pussy? How could you let yourself moan and mewl like a perfect little whore while Enji spears your cunt with a cock that should be much too big for anyone to take?

How could you do this with “daddy! daddy! daddy!” instead of your beloved Natsuo-nii?

Horror and shame rushes in after his rage and a sick, hot pulse of mortification has Natsuo slapping a hand to his mouth, has his guts twisting with the sudden impulse to throw up.

How could he think that?

...probably for the same reasons you could be in Enji's lap.

Natsuo swallows down his sickness and he curls in on himself as self-disgust hits him harder than one of his father’s punches. He’s horribly aware that he’s half-hard and he hates himself for that- hates how hot he finds it whenever you throw your head back with a loud whine whenever Enji brings you down and makes you take him fully, whenever Enji moves your hips in a stir and lets out a growl of, “So needy, little one. You take my cock so well.”

Blood rushes to Natsuo’s head- to both heads, actually. He goes from half-hard to achingly, fully hard as you whimper and try to move to ride Enji, as you whine out a soft little “daddy, please, more” whenever you’re forced to stay seated on his cock instead.

A choked noise claws its way up and out of Natsuo’s throat- he can’t believe you’re so needy; he can’t believe you can take such a big dick; he can’t believe that he’s so into the way his little sister begs so prettily to be fucked.

God, how many time have you done this? How many times have you fucked your father?

Natsuo’s heart pounds hard, but it pounds harder still whenever turquoise eyes flick up and meet his own.

He recoils in an instant- fear and shame and embarrassment racing through him- but he doesn’t run away even with his instincts screaming at him to bolt and hide and not come home for a long, long time. He’s frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from the way Enji grips your hips tighter and makes you shudder and arch your back.

He should run. He needs to run- who knows what Enji will do now that he’s been found out?

Natsuo’s fingers twitch along with his cock and he swallows hard, stares down his scowling father.

Rage is sneaking its way back into him- rage over being embarrassed and ashamed and fearful when it’s his father that’s gotten caught fucking his daughter, fucking Natsuo’s baby sister. Why should Natsuo run and cower when it’s Enji doing something so obscene?

Natsuo holds his ground despite his wide eyes and the jackhammer thumping of his heart.

Enji narrows his eyes and then he lifts his head- haughty with a look of authority, challenge as his eyes move from Natsuo and back to your pretty face.

“So impatient, little one,” Enji rumbles out. “You need to be fucked that badly?”

A whine from you and a nod. Natsuo can’t see your face, but he’s sure you have a trembling little pout, flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. You probably look so fucking good. God, he- he wants to see you all needy and pouting to be fucked. He shouldn’t want to see that. He absolutely should not want to see that. You’re his little sister- he can’t want this. He can’t.

Natsuo’s cock throbs in his sweatpants and he almost draws blood from digging his nails into his palms to keep from touching himself.

“Daddy, please! I wanna- I wanna be-”

You cut yourself off with another whine- hips trying to arch up and move along your daddy’s cock. There’s a low chuckle from Enji and Natsuo hates the smirk playing on his father’s face, the smug way he slowly slides you up his dick and forces you to take his slow, slow pace.

Enji stops when you’re half-way up his cock and Natsuo has to slap a hand over his mouth whenever Enji makes you lean forward, arch your hips. Natsuo can see how his father’s dick is parting your swollen, dripping lips with the new position- can see it even better when big hands grip your soft cheeks and spread you open even more.

It’s the hottest thing Natsuo has ever seen- lewd and disgusting and so filthy that he almost whimpers in need.

You probably feel so good inside.

He’s such a horrible older brother to want to know how slick and warm and honeyed your little cunny is.

Bile rises in his throat in contrast to how pre-cum spills in his boxers and Natsuo grips the door frame tight with his free hand whenever you let out a needy, sweet sob.

“D-Daddy, please! Please! I want- wanna be fucked! Daddy fill me! I need it!”

The smirk grows on Enji’s face and Natsuo’s fury roars among the dizzying swirl of emotions clouding his senses and judgement.

Why the hell are you begging Enji for that? He doesn’t deserve it- he doesn’t. If you’re going to do this with anyone in the family it should be the one who takes care of you the most, the one who has always been there for you.

Natsuo deserves to have you begging for his dick.

(God, he wants you begging for his dick- he wants to hear you cry out “nii-chan! please! please!” so fucking bad.)

“Shh, little one,” Enji says- voice almost soothing but not quite making it with a growl reverberating in the words. He kisses your cheek and he cants his hips up slowly to sheath himself in you once again- locking his eyes again with Natsuo as you whimper and mewl.

“Daddy is going to fuck you, little one,” Enji rumbles out- loud and so fucking pleased with himself. “I’m going to fuck you. Fill you. Give you what you need.”

You sob, the sound pitching close to a wail as you’re stretched open again. Natsuo’s vision is almost going spotted from everything now- he’s so overwhelmed and everything is so much and he is so fucking hard and all he can think now is fill you fill you fill you- i want to fill you as he watches Enji thrust languidly up into your needy pussy.

Enji kisses your cheek again and his eyes go half-shut as you tremble, as he watches his son struggle with his desires in the doorway.

“Daddy is going to fill you,” Enji continues- not looking away from Natsuo for one second. “Daddy is going to make you a momma, sweetheart. I’m going to give you a little one.”

You cry out a “please!” and Natsuo breaks.

He bolts from the doorway before he can process the action- runs to his bedroom and closes the door behind him, sinks to the floor and sticks a hand down his pants. A moan leaves him- loud and shameful, perverted as he frantically jerks off to the image of his little sister getting fucked by their father and the desire to know how you would feel on his cock, how horrible and wonderful it would be to cream your sweet little cunny and stuff you full with him instead of Enji.

Natsuo grates out a rough breath and he jerks as he starts to come- hips battering against his fist and the world rushing and roaring around him as he cries out your name.

He comes harder than he has all year and he falls to the floor after- panting and curling up into a little ball as shame tries to devour pleasure and greed, hunger, and want boil through his blood.

He wants you. He needs you. He’s so fucking awful but he needs you- needs your soft hands on him and your lips pressed to his, his cock filling your pussy and his seed spilling inside you, out and down your soft thighs.

Natsuo hears you cry out in the distance and he squeezes his eyes shut, hates himself as his dick throbs and envy washes over the mortification that should be taking over him.

He feels disgusting. Horrible. Hungry.

He wants to be the one fucking you and he hates that, but it’s not enough to stop him from reaching a hand down to jerk off to the thought. It’s not enough for him to replay the image of Enji spreading you apart over and over again in his mind. It’s not enough to keep him from moaning and rutting into his fist like some needy pervert. It’s not enough to keep him from coming to the thought of you begging for his cock.

It’s not enough to keep him from laying on the floor- a flushed cheek pressed to cool wood and his mind racing with a million schemes to get you into his bed.

...if you’re going to do it with Enji, then why not with Natsuo? Why not with your big brother?

If the number one hero can fuck his little girl, then why can’t Natsuo fuck his baby sister?

(It’s so wrong and he knows it. Is disgusted by it. By himself.

But, god, he wants it and after seeing you with Enji- with his father, your father- he knows that you probably want it just the same. He knows that you’d be happy to crawl into your nii-san’s lap like a good little girl and ride his dick like you ride daddy’s.

...if you’re okay with it, is it really that bad?)

Natsuo swallows hard and he squeezes his eyes shut, curls up tighter on the floor.

He’s a horrible big brother.

In the distance, you moan and mewl as your father fills you with his seed. Natsuo quietly, regretfully wishes that was him filling you instead and he sinks into a murky pit of pleasure and hopelessness, frustration and desire.

Natsuo had been wrong- his day actually managed to get a lot worse.

(Or maybe this is better?)

Natsuo grimaces and he forces himself to stand, wipes his dirtied hand on his sweatpants and heads to the bathroom so he can try to wash away his sins.