#more than to be loved in a pure and nonsexual way like he used to be when lucka was still alive .

[yotd2009]

"romeo how could you like both alois AND hannah at the same time" well you see. alois's abuse of her is completely out of character and is only there bc one of the writers' barely concealed fetishes is her getting hurt so i've decided to pretend like it didn't happen

[otaku-girl-ao3]

Otaku_Girl's Fanfic Masterlist

Here is a quick overview of my complete Wonka (2023) fanfic back catalogue (and a few other Mathew Baynton related fandoms). I thought it'd be simpler to have everything in one place to find them more quickly 😊 The easiest way to follow my work and get the latest updates on all of my fics is via Archive Of Our Own - subscribing via my main Otaku_girl or my Wonka specific pseud AHatfulOfDreams.

Personal favourite

➼ Willy Wonka x Felix Fickelgruber

Sugar Daddy? Call Me (Sir)

Used to being in control during his working life, Willy wants (needs) someone to take control of his life outside of the inventing room. But trying to juggle his wants and desires without risking his dream may prove to be more tricky than he had anticipated.

Felix likes to be in control. A man of power, he’s not used to hearing no. Everybody has a price. Everyone. There’s no way some upstart chocolate maker would dare do anything but roll over for Fickelgruber, is there?

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53223310

long fic (150k+) ~ sugar daddy ~ bdsm ~ smut

➼ Dark!Wonka x Felix Fickelgruber

His (Darkness)

“Arthur. You cannot be serious.”

“As you can see, he is mainly housebroken. But he still needs to be put in his place on a regular basis. He needs to be taught a firm lesson, as it were. You can take Felix if you want him. Consider him my little welcoming gift to you. He’s not as pretty or as young as he once was, but at least he’ll keep thin for you. And he’s very obedient when remembers to mind his manners.”

“No, Arthur, please.”

“Do you think that you can handle him, Wonka? He is clearly in need of some remedial lessons.”

“I think I shouldn’t have a problem, Arthur. I thank you for the gift. I shall make sure to use it thoroughly before your return. Perhaps he could do with a reminder of precisely who he deserves to be owned by. Property doesn’t get to choose its master.”

Dark!Wonka. Post-canon. Please read the tags as they are updated. We're in for another long one, folks.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54770731

Dove ~ dark ~ eventual happy ending ~ smut

x Reader fics

➼ Willy Wonka x Reader

(Pure) Imagination

You wouldn't go as far as to say you love your job, but you do love the freedom it gives you. One frozen night, you encounter a customer unlike any other, who seems determined to show you a world beyond your imagination. Wonka hires your services for the night. You end up with more than you bargained for. Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52955674

light-hearted ~ sex work ~ smut

Bitter Choices & Unsweetened Dreams

“I thought she was your sister?” “What’s it to you?”  “It’s a great deal to me.” Mister Top Hat says, voice even and calm. “Family is family. But property…” His eyes flick down the length of you once more, as though weighing up his words, before saying, “Well, property can change hands.”

When trying to escape capture, you ask for Mister Wonka's help. Sometimes, it's best to be careful what you wish for.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53109055

Dark!Wonka ~ angst with a happy ending ~ nonsexual

The Most Fearsome Foe Known to Man

Willy accidentally angers the most fearsome of potential foes known to mankind: a librarian. Despite Noodle’s warnings, he doesn’t understand the importance of returning library books both in the state in which they were borrowed and, most importantly, on time.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53069821

light-hearted ~ crack treated seriously ~ nonsexual

➼ Felix Fickelgruber x Reader

Make Me (Break Me)

“I can assure you that it is all there.” He sounds insulted that you would even consider checking that the amount in full is there before things get started. “Just like the first envelope this evening had the exact amount agreed upon.”

You send him a small placating smile. “It is nothing personal, Mister Fickelgruber. It is just business. Now. Strip."

Felix Fickelgruber has a very specific fantasy in mind — one that is perhaps best left in the hands of a professional.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54227971

pro-domme reader ~ SSCK ~ smut

➼Multiple pairings

Forget Me (K)Not

“Please? Please. I need…”

“The boy is clearly a beta, Felix. Use your nose. No self-respecting omega would go around smelling like that. And have you not seen his clothes? The callouses on his hands? I know you have a weakness for pretty little things, Felix, but wake up. This is no more than another pathetic attempt by a money-grubbing, greedy child to get a leg up. So no. Absolutely not. I will not even entertain the thought.”

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54321145

A/B/O ~ first heat ~ omegaverse ~ smut

For a moment like this

“Arthur.”

There’s no space for words between them. The name falling from his lips — an admonishment, a prayer, a breathy, needy plea — is more than enough.

Thick fingers — strong enough to break him, if Arthur so wishes — tug at delicate tweed. The unmistakable sound of fabric tearing, of buttons skittering across wooden floorboards, of bare flesh meeting bare flesh intertwines with their harsh breaths.

Gerald, Arthur and Felix share moments together. [Now] a collection of poly chocolate cartel vignettes.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56211682

Polyamory ~ vignettes ~ ficlet collection ~ poly chocolate cartel

Party favour

“Remember this is what you asked for. You wanted this.”

Hands clenching and unclenching, he wished not for the first time, that he had been more careful. He had relied on the kindness of strangers for so long — too long. It would seem that he had grown used to their help, their honesty and support. He didn’t think to look for deception in their every move, to seek out the potential dangers in their every action.

He should have learned his lesson from his contract with Mrs Scrubbit and Mister Bleacher.

He should have done a lot of things.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to stay right here. I’ll make sure anyone who comes even remotely our way will enjoy the view to the fullest.”

Willy receives an invite to a gala that doesn’t go exactly as he had planned. Poly chocolate cartel gangbang fic~ with added Chief of Police!

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56432554

Trans Wonka ~ shameless smut ~ polyamory ~ poly chocolate cartel

Until it happens to you (you won't know)

Willy! I thought you had everything sorted with the Chief? What happened with your little chat?”

“I… everything is fine, Noodle. It’s fine. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“There you are, candyman. I knew I’d find you around here somewhere. You know, the funniest thing happened. I came lookin’ for ya, and I couldn’t find you anywhere. Even that nice Mister Bleacher couldn’t find you. It’s almost as if you were hiding from me. Me! You wouldn't be stupid enough to hide from the police, would you, Wonka?”

The Chief of Police decides to reinforce his little message with more than just a bonk on the head.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56123263

Dark fic ~ threesome ~ waterboarding ~ Felix x Willy x Chief

The Most (Un)Romantic Day of the Year

Arthur did not consider himself to be a romantic man. Yet even he felt it was not too unresonable to expect to spend their anniversary together.

The poly chocolate cartel engagement fic that one person kind-of asked for. Pure fluff.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54916120

Romance ~ established relationship ~ marriage proposal

Dark Deeds and Bitter Choices

What if Mrs Scrubbit decided that they could make more money using Willy's talents elsewhere, outside of the washhouse?

The Arthur/Felix/Willy fic that nobody asked for.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53986543

Dark!Arthur ~ dove ~ non-ssck ~ smut

➼ Willy Wonka x Arthur Slugworth

(A World Of) My Own

Wonka’s store stood, a hollowed-out husk, the remains burned to cinders. When the cartel came, what if Arthur felt a twinge of something he hadn’t felt in years? The pre-slash/ get-together fic that precisely one person asked for.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54184039

Guilt ~ fix-it ~ accidental dating

➼ Willy Wonka x The Chief of Police

Three strikes

Willy thought back to their last meeting, to the freezing cold water, to the sharp whack to the back of his head. It was not a situation he hoped to repeat anytime soon."Officer, I—”

"That's the problem with all of you young upstarts. You never do think.”

While waiting to meet Felix for their date, Willy manages to draw the ire of the Chief of Police.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54115921

misunderstandings ~ dove ~ hurt no comfort

➼ Felix Fickelgruber x Arthur Slugworth

Strength (In Silence)

Arthur is a man who knows his strength all too well. He thought that he was concealing his fears from Felix; yet the other man would never cease to amaze him in the most unexpected of ways.

A soft colleagues-to-lovers bdsm fic with gentle!Dom Felix and Submissive!Arthur, where Arthur is afraid of his own strength (and Felix is determined that isn’t a good enough reason for them not to fuck like bunnies).

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54916276

Kink negotiation ~ submissive Arthur ~ gentle dominant Felix

Empty

There’s no colour in the sky when Felix wakes up. There’s no warmth in his chest, or excitement in his gut. There is nothing but the unwavering certainty: he is not enough.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54447592

depression ~ anxiety ~ hurt no comfort

For a Moment

“I have a spare room. It’s nothin fancy, but it beats any of the shelters I’m meant to recommend in these cases.”

“These cases?”

The chief looked down, before steeling himself and meeting Felix’s gaze once more. “I think we both know what I mean, Mister Fickelgruber, Sir.”

“I do not think that we do. You shall have to spell it out for me.”

It takes an average of seven attempts for a person to leave a domestic violent situation for good.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54618847

domestic abuse ~ hurt no comfort ~ hopeful ending

Pet

“It really is quite simple, Arthur. I have certain…predilections when it comes to my partners. I enjoy a certain, shall we say, power dynamic within the bedroom.”

“You wish to be held down and told what to do? I can do that."

“You misunderstand, darling. I prefer to be the one doing the ‘holding down’ and ‘telling what to do’, as it were."

Arthur Slugworth was not a man who took orders. And yet, for Felix...he could learn to be.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54652468

submissive Arthur ~ dominant Felix ~ BDSM

Things (Best) Left Unsaid

“You’re married, aren’t you?” “Er, yes? Yes I am Mister Fickelgruber.” “Do you ever regret it?”

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54726334

reflection ~ marriage ~ doubt

➼ Felix Fickelgruber x The Chief of Police

Just Give Me A Reason (Just A Little Bit's Enough)

“What brings you to my doorstep this evening, Chief? I do hope that I shall have the opportunity to counter whatever offer Arthur has made you before you proceed.”

The Chief looked at him blankly. He could see the tenseness around Felix’s mouth, the tightness around his eyes. Was that his hands shaking, just visible above his desk? Surely not. Felix didn’t get nervous. Not like that. Unless…His stomach dropped. “Before I—Jesus Christ Felix, I’m not here because Arthur sent me.”

When Felix misses a cartel meeting, The Chief of Police can't help but worry. Shameless smut ensues. Can be read as a stand-alone or a follow-on from Things (Best) Left Unsaid.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55171597

submissive Chief ~ dominant Felix ~ smut

His Jewel

Francis hates the feeling of not being plugged. It had been one of Felix’s first requirements, when they first began their little arrangement. He had thought the other man was joking at first. Until he had seen the look of disappointment in Felix’s eyes when he had slipped a hand beneath his uniform trousers to check, and found his hole clenched tightly shut, not a single sign of use since the last time Felix had deemed him worthy of his time and attention.

Felix gets The Chief a special little something to help him think about him whenever they aren't together.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54257518

butt plugs ~ bdsm ~ smut

➼ Felix Fickelgruber x Gerald Prodnose

Falling In Love (With My Best Friend)

“What happened this time, Felix?”

“I made an utter fool of myself. Again. I thought…” he trailed off. Settling the delicate china down, he allowed his hands to rest in his lap. He turned them over slowly, eyes running over the delicate bones shifting just beneath the surface, the faint calluses that could truly only be felt rather than seen unless you knew to look for them. Nobody ever looked at Felix and thought to look for them.

“Felix?”

“He called me a slut.”

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55776700

friends to lovers ~ smut ~ praise kink

x Crossover fics

➼ Wonka (2023) x You, Me and the Apocalypse

Darling boy

Felix Fickelgruber x Ariel Conroy

"You took something that belongs to me, Mister Conroy. And I shall have you repay that debt. One way or another."

Ariel thought that he was just hacking funds from another wealthy nobody. Too bad that Felix doesn’t take kindly to having his money stolen. Luckily for Ariel, there are other methods of repayment that he is willing to accept.

The Wonka x You, Me and The Apocalypse (crossover) that nobody asked for and like maybe two people will ever read 😂 (Please note: This is primarily set in the Wonka-verse, so you can read Ariel as an OC if you are unfamiliar with YMATA).

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54566395

Kidnapping ~ dove ~ happy ending ~ smut ~ bdsm ~ crossover

You can find me on the Wonka Discord, AO3, or here on Tumblr

I do my best to respond to every comment on AO3. Regular updates on WIPs guaranteed 💯

Other Fandoms

Ghosts (2019)

Take a chance on me

Pat Butcher x Reader

“Now c'mon then love, let’s see you. Only if you’re sure. I could fetch one of the others if you’d like? Julian’s got a ton of experience if even half of his stories are to be believed. And Thomas…well, if you like that sort of thing. I suppose he’s a good enough looking chap if you can get past his poetry. And all the love confessions about other women. And the moping. And the…general Thomas-ness.”

“I think I’d rather just keep this between the two of us if that’s ok with you, Pat? At least for now? Anything else sounds a little bit advanced for…”

“For your first time as a ghost?” Pat finishes your sentence for you, sending you a reassuring smile, “We’ve all been there."

“Haha. Yes. It will be my first time as a ghost. And also…maybe… my first time…”

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55039954

Gentle dom ~ reader insert ~ pure smut ~ virgin reader

Can't take it back (once it's been set in motion)

Thomas Thorne x Reader; Pat Butcher x Reader; Thomas Thorne x Julian Fawcett

“Patrick tells me that you are inexperienced in the ways of the flesh.”

“Pat said what?”

“Patrick was telling me all about your little…conversation," Thomas said delicately, a small, sly smile curling at the corners of his lips. "And I was wondering if perhaps I might be of some assistance?”

Thomas offers to help you lose your virginity. It would be a far more appealing prospect, if you weren't half convinced you were developing feelings for Pat.

-

This can be read as a stand-alone, or a sequel to my Pat/Reader fic ‘Take a chance on me’. Shameless smut which developed a little bit of plot.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55376755

Misunderstandings ~ cunnilingus ~ smut ~ virgin reader

Bullet Train (2022)

A Certain satisfaction (in a Little Bit of Pain)

Tangerine x Lemon

Lemon pressed his knee lower against the swell of Tangerine’s arse, waiting patiently for his struggles to die down once more.

“Is this actually helping, Tan? Because I can keep this up all night. So why don’t you stop being a little bitch, and run through your safewords for me like a good fuckin' boy so we can get started.”

-

After a job goes bad, Lemon knows what Tangerine needs. If only he can get Tangerine out of his own head long enough to give it to him.

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55881517

bdsm ~ everyone lives nobody dies ~ smut ~ my first try at the fruits

[shadowstarion]

thinking about shadowheart astarion + karlach and their specific relationships with sexuality and intimacy… gets spicy below the cut

i think shadowheart and astarion would be very big on nonsexual intimacy. obviously astarion wants to be loved for more than just his body and treated as more than just a sex object, and shadowheart’s been trained to deny herself pleasure or gratification to the point where it’s scary. with her memories wiped, she has essentially no experience so it’s not something she’d immediately prioritize. she wouldn’t expect anything from him and astarion adores the fact they can kiss, lie together, touch each other, twist their fingers in hair and whisper sweet things with the knowledge that it won’t eventually become something that makes him feel used or exploited

and of course we KNOW shadowheart isn’t 100% pure and virginal, we know she’s essentially the repressed catholic girl who reads smut and has wild fantasies, but when it does happen? she’s gentle and trusting and willingly gives astarion control. he calls the shots when he wants to, gets to bask in the feeling of not being used, but having shadowheart give him anything he wants, give herself to him entirely. not necessarily letting him use her, but she wants to please him, focuses on how much she can give him, wants to be so good for him. it’s about so much more than just getting off when it’s shadowheart, being so diligent while giving him her mouth or hands, holding him tight and whining out her admiration while she’s under him, saying his name over and over like a prayer

i could go on about how they fuck for hours but alas, we need to talk about karlach. oh god the poor thing, just as repressed as shadowheart and immensely eager/touch starved in a way that astarion can’t comprehend is even physically possible. her engine making intimacy dangerously impractical would drive shadowheart crazy; we know shads was down horrific the moment she saw her for starters. it’s another comfort to astarion, knowing that karlach’s kindness toward him has no ulterior motives, that being open and vulnerable with her won’t lead them to bed because she cares more about his wellbeing and safety than she does her own wants. watching karlach politely refuse any of shadowheart’s attempts to escalate their relationship would make astarion genuinely swoon, because gods does that woman care so deeply and love with all her heart, maybe he can grow to trust her too…?

once her engine is repaired enough for physical touch to be safe, karlach is an entirely different story. while shadowheart gives herself up in a way that’s inexperienced and submissive, karlach’s whole “care for __’s wellbeing” complex translates to her being the service top of the century. anything shadowheart wants she’ll get x10, anything astarion doesn’t want is completely out of the question. she’d never push boundaries, asks for consent and won’t keep going if it isn’t enthusiastic, is constantly checking in to make sure she’s not going to hard or too fast, while simultaneously being sooo brutally needy. astarion could have her on her knees begging and pleading for permission to touch him, to make him feel good, to show how much she loves him, and she wouldn’t move a muscle until he gave her an explicit yes, dear, you may

now with shadowheart it may be a little different in the sense that she, to put it plainly, doesn’t have immense sexual trauma but moreso apprehension and curiosity about sexuality. she wants it all, hard and fast, unhinged and unrestrained and karlach is more than able to provide that. karlach wouldn’t let her beat around the bush, would wring every last fantasy and fetish and desire out of her in verbal conversation and remind her it’s nothing to be ashamed of. she wants bent over the the table and fucked until she cries? wants karlach’s hands around her throat and her tail prying her legs apart? wants to be hit and degraded and hauled off to gods-know-where over a barbarian’s shoulder? all she has to do is ask for it and mama k will provide.

on that note, something can be said for karlach and astarion’s dynamic together with shadowheart. they’d absolutely team up every now and again, because sometimes astarion wants intimacy but can’t handle being touched, or because shadowheart is being indecisive and cagey about what she wants, or because there was a close call and karlach needs them both to know how cherished they are.

astarion watching from his comfy seat with a book open in his lap while karlach completely takes shadowheart apart, having her look at him and tell him how good it feels, occasionally letting astarion give instructions so that he can feel the closeness without having to confront physical touch

karlach having trouble getting shadowheart to be open about some kink or fetish because she doesn’t understand it well herself and Shadowheart is too embarrassed to explain, so astarion is the phone-a-friend who knows Everything and can translate shadowheart’s awkward explanation of wax play or whatever and mercilessly teases her with the most explicit unashamed dirty talk

shadowheart getting downed in a fight while trying to heal astarion and karlach raging, absolutely obliterating their enemies because she’s had enough taken from her. how dare anyone threaten what’s hers? for a split second she thought shadowheart was gone and astarion would follow without her healing and her engine is running hotter than ever with pure fury. of course, they make it out alive and are able to recover quickly back at camp, but the fear of losing them sticks with karlach. she wants them close to her as soon as they’re back in good shape, holding and touching and squeezing and kissing every inch of them she can. keeping shadowheart pressed in between them with astarion at her back, karlach’s hands around his waist, just a panting mess of i love you and i was so scared and please don’t ever leave me and need you need you both so bad

my brain is full. i need them to fuck so bad

[xoxiu]

twinkle - ot7 x reader

chapter 17 table of contents masterlist join the taglist discord

summary: she had just wanted attention, that’s why she kept texting the strange number, updating him on everything in her life. little did she know how dangerous this relationship actually was. it had been jimin’s idea to kidnap the girl, but the ability to travel across the world to actually do it had been all hoseok’s doing. convenient how some things work, right? they knew that they were destined to have their baby with them, whether she wanted it or not.

tags/warnings: kidnapping, forced age regression, spanking, noncon, mafia au, drug use, stockholm syndrome, caregiver!bts, little!reader, nonsexual, diapers, panic attacks, fluff and angst, sickfic, referenced child abuse, unrequited love

taglist: @0funsite0, @frieschan

"Jungkook, what the fuck is wrong with you?" 

The harsh, frenzied tone in Seokjin's voice made Ophelia sit upright. Curiously, she peered her head to catch a glimpse of the scene, but was just out of view. Sensing the rising tension, Yoongi removed Lia from his lap with a small kiss to her head to investigate. Lia's eyes followed Yoongi until he was out of sight, but her focus remained fixed on the doorframe as the voices grew louder and more intense.

"Hyung, what's going-"

"Jungkook's a fucking idiot, that's what's going on!" Jin's voice boomed over the hushed voices of the others, desperately trying to calm the eldest down. Even from the next room over, Lia felt uneased and scared from the immense volume. 

"That's surely an overstatement."

"He called the fucking police, Jimin!"

The sudden quiet lull in conversation allowed Jin's accusation to fully settle in Lia's mind. 

Police. If Jungkook called the police, they would find Lia and take her away. She could escape and be free.

Lia felt as if she were in a trance as she processed what was happening. She stared blankly at the pure white wall, lost in thought and oblivious to the action returning to the household. The gasps and yells of incredulity remained simply static in her mind, because she would be free.

She would be reunited with Henry and Rose, whose existences she seemingly forgot about these past few weeks. Or was it months? From the strict schedule her kidnappers kept her on, it was near impossible to keep track of time. Lia could hardly remember just how old she was, nevertheless the day of the week. 

Everything came flooding back to her, and Lia felt her body shake with an emotion she couldn't describe. Anger, anxiety, longing, and pure adrenaline built up in her small body, and Lia remained a simple spectator. Her emotions dictated her actions, and her emotions wanted out of her current hell.

Two hands picking her up dragged her out of her head, releasing the pent up rage upon her captor. Lia twisted, shouted, bit, scratched, anything to be let go. She finally possessed a way to escape, and she would not pass up the opportunity. 

Jimin remained at the receiving end of Lia's tantrum, taking the brunt of her fight. He sat her back down on the chair, keeping her wrists firm in his hands so she could no longer scratch or hit him. "Lia, I-" He began, but Lia refused to stop and listen, kicking violent and flinging herself backward to further herself away from Jimin. 

"No! Let me go! LET ME GO!" Lia's screams easily overpowered Seokjin's own, drowning out the altercation in the other room. Angry and frustrated tears appeared in the corners of her eyes, and Jimin felt like crying as well. He hadn't seen Lia this upset in weeks, and it hurt him to see her so upset. Jimin looked over to the doorframe at Namjoon, signaling him to come and help with a sigh. 

Namjoon was much stronger than Jimin, and easily maneuvered the small girl's body over his shoulder. He bared through the hits to his back, knees knocked into his chest, and an occasional bite to his side. 

"We have about ten minutes before the police get out here, so we want to get her out as soon as we can," Even with the assault upon him, Namjoon managed to calmly inform Jimin of the escape plan. So many thoughts ran through Jimin's head; he could hardly articulate any of them. 

"That's not enough time to pack all her things into the car," Jimin noted.

Namjoon adjusted Lia on his shoulder while responding, "Yoongi's only grabbing some essentials and told me to have her ready in the car quickly. Once she's in her car seat she can wear herself out." Namjoon rubbed Lia's back to calm her, resulting in protesting shrieks and harder squirming to get away from the unwanted touch. Feeling helpless, Jimin watched as the two left the room and eventually exited out the door, Lia's screams becoming muffled from the outside. 

Jimin sat in the passenger seat of the car, occasionally looking in the rearview mirror to watch either Namjoon and Yoongi placing baby items in the trunk or Lia continuing her struggles to unbuckle herself. In the back of his mind, Jimin knew she could undo the restraints, but Lia was too worked up mentally to think with rational thought. It was a sad, yet cute, sight. Jimin sighed before exiting the car, ignoring the questions of where he was going. 

He glanced at the sight just behind the front doors; Taehyung and Jungkook sat on the bottom of the stairs, faces as emotionless as Jimin's, while Jin leaned against the wall with his head in his hands. None of them paid Jimin any attention as he walked into the kitchen silently. He grabbed one of the bottles that Yoongi hadn't packed and filled it with plain tap water. Wordlessly, he walked back out to the car. 

"Where did you go?" Yoongi asked, closing the trunk after the last of the items had been loaded. 

"Mmm," Jimin hummed absentmindedly, "I just had to grab something." 

Yoongi looked his boyfriend over before nodding suspiciously. The two of them entered the car quickly, eager and anxious to leave before any law enforcement appeared. 

While Lia's struggling had died off while Jimin ran inside for the water, as soon as the engine started up and the car pulled out of the driveway, she fought hard with what little energy she had. The screams and kicks were much softer this time around, and with a small look towards Yoongi, Jimin realized just how tired the elder was as well. They were all tired and worn out, sitting silently as they drove away. 

Just as was expected, Lia did wear herself out, resigning to staring out the window slumped over in her car seat. Jimin looked at her pale face that brightened with red where her tears previously resided and suddenly felt immense sadness. Her eyes were puffy and wet, glossing over the otherwise dull and dead appearance. Jimin thought back to the pictures and videos of Ophelia all those months ago, remembering her bright eyes full of hope and happiness. The Lia behind him was not that same happy, cheerful girl. 

That twinkle of hope was lost. 

The sudden flash of red and blue alongside the long, permeating siren forced Jimin to look further ahead along the road. Police cars raced past them, one after the other, rushing towards their home in hopes of taking Lia away. As they passed, Jimin looked back towards Lia through the mirror, watching as her eyes reflected the red and blue lights. Other than the colors flashing over her, she remained emotionless as they disappeared behind them. 

Jimin grabbed the water bottle from the cup holder next to him, double-checking that the nipple was on tight before handing it back toward Lia. Lia looked toward the bottle but made no effort to accept it. Jimin gave it a small shake to encourage Lia to take it.

"You're dehydrated, baby. Drink some, please," Jimin spoke, his voice hoarse and cracking. After a moment of hesitation, Lia took ahold of the bottle with shaking hands. From the small mirror, Jimin watched as Lia drank from the bottle, staring out into the darkness surrounding them. 

[cuckette]

you’re such an incredible writer, baby <3 ddlg is something i genuinely love so much, just someone taking care of you, being so loving and thoughtful, i love both the sexual and nonsexual parts! and the dressing and brushing your teeth scene was so perfect, i love you so much <3

—————————

younger chris was a little surprised at your confession, he’d never really heard of anything like this. sure—he has dabbled in different genre’s of porn but not once did he come across this. you play with the ruffles of your sweatshirt when you tell him, looking down at your fluffy socks as your face is hot with embarrassment. it’s not embarrassing that you have this mindset, just embarrassed with the thoughts of chris being your loving and sweet daddy.

he’s accepting, i mean, he’s seen a lot of shit, and this couldn’t compare. he’s more than willing to learn—he’s always been fond of taking care of someone, weither it be making claire lunch for school, or helping jill fix her hair, he loves the praise he gets when helping others. when he makes you bear shaped pancakes with chocolate chip eyes and whipped cream hair or when he gives you soft kisses on your stomach, the stars that float in your eyes are all worth the trouble. “i love you so much dada!”

he doesn’t like when it happens but he really doesn’t know what to do when you’re throwing crayons around and having a tantrum. he doesn’t even know how it started—maybe he made you eat something you don’t like, it was probably corn, nobody likes corn. or maybe the outfit he picked for you today wasn’t up to your standards, some days your picky, somedays you’re not. but chris has also had a long day, he hasn’t had the chance to change out of his uniform when he has you bent over his lap. he feels bad, so so bad, the cries you make are breaking his heart, but he knows he can’t spoil you forever.

the sting is obvious and the way you jump when he slams his big hands on your cheek is tearing him apart. it’s never a lot—twenty at most—you can handle more but the sniffles you make, make him stop prematurely. he’ll pick you up and give you the biggest kisses, all over your face, the scratch of his beard making you giggle through your stuffy nose. he’ll pet your pretty little cunt, make you cum a few times before stuffing you full, and make pure and sweet love to you. he’ll order your favorite food and watch that my little pony movie that he’s seen at least ten times. anything for his pretty little baby. “ah- you’re so big, daddy ..!”

—————————

older chris is a little different. he’s unfortunately a lot more busy than he use to be—he doesn’t get to see his baby as often as he’d like. he remembers how absolutely destroyed you were when he told you he’d be gone for awhile on a mission, something about a guy and his kid—and mold, can’t forget about the mold. you kicked your feet and screamed, “it’s not fair!” you’d cry. even as he’s older, his love for being your caretaker never faltered—he takes severe happiness in having to take a break from his war lifestyle and come home to his pretty little baby. but, as he’s gotten older, he’s realized that in order to have a good baby, discipline is important.

he’d be very careful of his punishments before, one was given maybe once a month, sometimes when you were pushing his luck, he’d put on a show you both loved and distracted you from your exaggerated anger—but as time goes on, he comes to understand that he can’t do that forever. you cry and stomp your feet, “it’s not fair!” you say again, and he’s had enough.

he was already annoyed with the duration of this mission. why does it be him? why can’t they call leon? he’s not doing anything anyways. he wants to be home, his pretty baby sat in his lap, and play the frills of their skirt. but instead, he has to go save some guy from his own trouble.

he’s had enough as you scream again, he has you over his lap in an instant, your skirt is hiked up and his hand comes down without warning. you’ll never get use to it, it seems like he’s gotten a little bigger since last time, and you cry and shake as he continues. it’s never twenty anymore, it’s thirty, maybe even forty. he’s not as patient as he use to and you need to learn. “you earned this baby, always gotta act up.” he still feels bad though—even as a old man, he frowns slightly at the sound of your sniffles. it’s why he’s never made it to fifty.

he’s still a softie, he’ll rub your little butt and give you a kiss on your cheek—just one, that’s all you get. you’re punishment isn’t over, it’s not as easy as before. he’ll drag you on his cock, he doesn’t take the time to warm you up—the slick gushing down his thighs is hint enough. chris runs out of stamina easier than he use to but whenever a punishment arises, it’s like he’s twenty five again. he’ll cum inside you over and over again—until he gets that pain in his chest that lets him know that he needs to tap out. he’s a softie, he’ll always make sure you’ve came as many times as him, and it’s obvious when you’re slumped over him. “so- so much, daddy..”

he’ll clean you off and wait for you to wake before explaining his mission in detail. he’ll never leave his baby on purpose and you can call him every night. he’ll send you texts to remind you to eat and take those vitamins gummies—even if the grape ones are gross. “make sure you take them baby, they’re good for ya.”

young and old chris have something in common.

they love their baby so much.

—————————

i swear younger and older chris were supposed to be the same length but i got carried away :( sorry if it’s too long! your writing style is so nice, the references you make and the way you display the characters thoughts and include characters who may not be in the fic itself but are still mentioned are so captivating! i’ve been writing a lot more because ur so inspiring :3 thank u for ur talent baby! 🫶 - 🕺

FIRST OF ALL,, thank you sososooso much :( you’re too sweet to me literally ughhhh kicking my feet n blushing

ddlg w younger chris ughhgg he’s still learning, too sweet ab it, lets you get away with too much, fumbles over himself a lot and lets you off easy. half the time he forgets the rules he set out bc you bat your lashes so pretty at him, then you’re staying up past midnight and waking up so incredibly grumpy. UGHHHH AND THEN OLDER CHRIS he’s even more tender now, knows how to actually be a daddy, how to take care of you, how to implement the right rules n do things the way you like, both spoils you and makes sure you behave :3 THIS IS SOOOO GOOD ANON I WILL EAT U UGHHGV

[guttersniper]

@quantumleapt​ said: [ groom ] Sam in Mom Mode straightening Mutt's tie and fixing his hair... consider...

nonsexual acts.

he got into this gallery by pure merit, just like the rest of the featured talent, but he feels stupid. exposed. feels like everything from his hair to this stupid fucking outfit is a lie. (when did he ever wear a tie, or tuck in a button up, or have ironed pants, or have a goddamn belt he didn’t have to fold back at the clasp to fit properly?) he’s never been so seen before, used to a life of nonexistence. it makes his skin crawl in a precarious balance of trepidation and vague disgust, wanting to be invisible again and shove everyone else away.

but he loves sam with a fierceness and a sting of hurt that surpasses words, perhaps all the more so now for being in his present, together and grounded at last. he’d been so proud, and the thought of disappointing him pains mutt. 

so, he endures. if he’s good at anything, it’s enduring, by god. 

“ if they do anything stupid, “ he says upon returning from the bathroom, “ i can break their fingers. “ he doesn’t like the way some of them looked at him in the sparse moments it took him to gather a read on the crowd, like he didn’t belong. these sorts of people that attend these showcases can be a hit or miss, he’s learned. either they’re fine, because they understand what it’s like to starve and fight and resist, or they don’t have a lick of talent or drive or compassion in their pinkie finger. only here because of daddy’s money, or some bullshit, as he’d so bluntly put it. 

they know sam, too, no doubt, fucking celebrity that he is, and have their own questions about -- everything. about him. he’s still so thin and nobody knows where he came from and since when did dr. beckett keep his company? and--

his jaw clenches, and he hardly even realizes how tight he’s got his fists balled up, enough to leave crescent-shaped imprints with his nails in the calloused flesh, until he feels stray hairs being tucked back behind his earlobe. he sighs. “ i was kidding. “ he wasn’t, and they both know that. 

when sam reaches forward and messes with his tie that had gone askew, mutt finds himself holding his breath, as if he were afraid of messing something up with the gentle rise and fall of his chest. he releases his breath. self-consciousness scrapes the lining of his mouth raw. sam continues to preen him, deciding his hair could use another fussing, but mutt hardly has the fight in him to swat at him or move away. 

he looks at the doors, guests trickling in and standing at the entries. he watches as the other gallery members greet the people who’d come for them. fuck. this wasn’t -- isn’t -- his life. he doesn’t belong here. he never should’ve contacted the number on the advertisement he’d seen in the art magazine. he never should’ve--

fingers underneath and guiding his chin pull him from his thoughts. he looks up at sam, and gnaws at the paradoxically tender flesh of his cheek. “ what? “ it’s a little sharper than he intended, and his face flinches into something resembling regret. gentler: “ what, sam? “ then, not realizing how much like al he sounds: “ stop being schmaltzy and spit it out. “

[muselin]

TXT Soobin NSFW alphabet

Kinktober 2021 Day 6 🍁🎃

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Practical with his aftercare. He'll get you water, change the sheets if need be. He'll give you a sweet kiss goodnight but don't expect pillow talk, he's out like a light after that.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself his shoulders. On his partner - total boob/chest man. If he could live with your nipples in his mouth 24 hours a day, he totally would. He might do this even in a nonsexual way, he's addicted.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He's not very messy about it but he loves to cum inside you. Someone say breeding kink? Soobin's got you. In fact if he doesn't cum inside you in some way, in your pussy, mouth or ass, it's a waste to him.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

His dirty secret is that he has far more dirty fantasies than he wants people to think. He's a closeted perv and a freak and his pure image is nothing but a burden a lot of the time.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He has a good amount of experience for his age. 2-3 partners. Definitely knows his way around the bedroom and is equally happy with someone less or more experienced than him.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary with variations. Loves being in control and loves being able to see your boobs/chest as he's railing you, and having free access to squeeze, to tweak your nipples or bend down and suck on them as he goes.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be a little goofy during foreplay but once you start moaning seriously, it's on. He doesn't like to break the spell, he keeps it up with dirty talking.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Trims once in a while but usually lets it be.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Soobin has a tight grasp of his emotions and he's used to being in charge. Sex is sex to him and he doesn't always have an easy time being open and vulnerable during it, he usually shows love in other ways outside the bedroom. He loves it when his partner is intimate and comfortable with him and he tries to reciprocate but it's just one of those things that doesn't come very naturally to him.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Man has needs even if you're not around and is not shy one bit. 3-4 times a week.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Light torture. You pissed him off at lunch? Well at dinner you are sitting with a vibrator in you and he's got the remote. You're doing overtime at home? You're doing it topless with clips on your nipples and he's got the chain attached to them. Expect no mercy from this man.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Mostly at home, but his favourite place is those forgotten storage closets around Music Bank. Yep. Soobin's worked there long enough to know when he can sneak you in, where no one uses the rooms, where to get the keys, and when there's breaks in the program and no one would miss him. He likes a safe risk, so to say, and the small possibility of someone looking for him and knocking on the door of the room where you're fucking is very exciting for him. Best quickies of your life.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Your confidence at first, and then shattering it by wrecking you in bed. Soobin likes a genuinely confident partner as this tells him they can handle him being in charge without it causing any real issues. It's a big turn on for him that you think you're in charge at first because he gets to prove you wrong and watch you realise that he OWNS you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Soobin doesn't like to share. He has a jealous streak and would not initially agree to any partner swapping, threesomes or similar. If you manage to get him to do it at all, it would take a whole lot.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Loves when you give him head. Loves to guide you through it, hands in your hair, pushing your head further to make you take more or him. Not averse to making you choke on his cock either. He likes to give head too and he's good at it but tends to reserve it as a reward.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and often rough. Soobin doesn't come to mess around. If your legs are not shaking by the time he's done with you then he's going again.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Loves them. Doing it in public is a turn on for him and quickies are usually the way to go there. Oftentimes there's a competition of who can cum first.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Soobin is capable of leaning into the BDSM side a little and will try a lot of things as long as you're into it and he's in charge. He doesn't take big risks so he's not too bothered if something doesn't work out because there are always other things to try.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Two rounds at a stretch. Soobin has good control of himself and will last a long time the first round, but going hard as he does, it takes it out of him so the second round is a push.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Pretty big collection and varied - dildos, butt plugs, vibrators, nipple clamps and chains, a flogger or three. Mostly used on you but if he's feeling extra horny and generous he might make use of them on himself as well and let you watch.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Loves to tease and torture. No reservations, except it doesn't last too long because what he actually wants to see is you getting wrecked and he'll up in the intensity quickly to achieve that.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Soobin is quiet but that doesn't mean he's not expressive. He will usually hum blisfully when he's feeling good, some gruff moans and a hiss of pleasure here and there. His face will definitely show you if he's having a good time.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Cockwarming. If he's tired but still being a 6'1" little shit and wants to torture you, you'll have your evening TV time with his cock inside you while he sits comfortably watching his show. And when you're mewling and begging him to move and just do something, he'll finally turn the TV off.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Definitely doesn't disappoint. Boi is fucking tall and his cock is proportionate in that way. 6"-6.5", slightly on the thinner side.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

A little above average. Up for it most days of the week.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty quickly, after he's made sure you're okay and the bed is in a usable condition.

[aromantic-misguide-to-romance]

Also wanted to see not sure if your Ace asks are still open or not... but if they are or at some point would you be able to HC or drabbles of what dates might look like with the OM! boys? Asking since many date blogs end in sex and I am wondering what your take on them would be?

My ace asks are always open! :>

I actually ran wild on this concept so each character takes up a whole page of solid text, so I hope you don't mind if I post them separately one by one and tag you in them!

Ace Dates with Lucifer!

Word count: 852

Dates with Lucifer are always fancy and a bit old-fashioned. He wants to spoil you and likes to pose as mature so you can rely on him knowing exactly what he’s doing.

The thing is… he doesn’t.

Contrary to popular opinion his experience isn’t as broad as he pretends. His earlier dates have always been “impress and remain detached” rather than genuine bonding or nonsexual intimacy, and had a clear goal in mind, so he’s not used to opening up to his date or attempting affection. So his attempts might be a bit clumsy at first, but he’s doing his best both to express his love properly and to make sure that you like the date and that you don’t feel pressured into anything. While he considers the general plan of a Proper Date still fitting, tries not to fall into old habits.

He often invites you out to expensive restaurants – but makes sure that the seats are either in a private booth, or just in a corner, conveniently hidden in the complicated layout of the room or behind some big and undoubtedly very rare plants. This way you can share truly romantic moments without any audience. Under this cover he’ll try to pretend that feeding you or letting you feed him doesn’t fluster him, but just point out how hopelessly romantic or cute it is and watch his composed facade crumble. Enjoy your Blushifer.

He’s also a busy demon, so there’s plenty of “mini dates” squished in-between his duties or work – if he has some time for himself during dinnertime, he’s definitely going to spend it with you in the best restaurant around.

Appointed dates are however much more extra. You are obviously getting your fancy dinner, but he’s got a plan for the whole night – he always has one, he’s Lucifer after all. Hopefully you don’t get bored of highly praised plays in a theatre or classical music concerts. Such events are his main interest so he takes you to the concert hall or theatre, without telling you where you are going. It’s obviously a surprise! A very predictable one, but there’s something endearing in how excited he is to “surprise” you and share the experience with you. Even if you’re not as much of a theatre or classical music nerd as he is, it can send one into cuteness overload when he’s gushing about a play or a concert.

But that’s not all. You get to see a side of him that no one else probably ever witnessed. The VIP lounges he books for these dates mean that there’s no one to disturb or even see you. Hidden in the darkness of the auditorium when all the lights and eyes point to the stage, he leans on you or let you lean on him. It’s pure happiness for him to listen to a concert or watch a play, in a half-embrace in the privacy of the VIP lounge. It’s fascinating how he lets his hair down in such a fancy place, just because no one is watching.

On the way back, it’s a good chance for you to convince him for a detour – he likes to know that you enjoy during the dates and is going to enjoy whatever you have in mind, so that’s a great opportunity to teach him some of the Average Human Date Customs. After he gets a bit more accustomed to said customs (and to not being in full control of everything) feel free to ask him out on your own and plan a date yourself – once he gets a gist of it, you might witness him really unwind. Especially if your date doesn’t follow a set schedule like his dates tend to do, the freedom of just enjoying the world might be a really rewarding, or even a liberating experience for him when he learns that not every trip or outing has to have a clear purpose and goal to accomplish.

When you’re home, there are obviously still options, so if you don’t want the night to end yet, you’re welcome to visit his room and drink some calming tea for better sleep and just talk about the day, the date or continue some of the earlier topics. He also welcomes some good cuddles.

Just make sure that you two don’t fall asleep in the armchair you cuddled in, because neither your back or his is going to enjoy that. If he’s nodding off, please wake him up and drag him to bed so he can sleep properly. He probably won’t let go of your hand when sleepy, so you’ll have to stay with him, obviously. That’s not a problem though – his bed definitely has more than enough space for both of you.

If you happen to fall asleep first, he just carries you to his bed and snuggles up to you. He needs to get up early, as usual, but sleeping with you at his side somehow makes him rest so much better, and on top of that he’s going to have a wonderful morning just by waking up next to you.

[kanonsarchivedblog]

SHINO NSFW!!please I love him and the world needs more shino aburame🙏

Your wish is my command! Truth be told, I haven’t ever had the chance to really work with Shino, so this is a fun way to get into his character! The Aburame clan is a hidden gem and I love them (and I headcanon that they have a butterfly house but that’s for a separate post). Dropping this under a cut since it is purely NSFW headcanons. Please note that these headcanons take place after the two-year gap, around the timeframe of The Last. I hope you enjoy! <3

→Shino is a quiet man, we all know this. When he speaks, it grabs your attention almost immediately due to how soft his voice is, how deep it sounds- a complete shock compared to what you had imagined for him to sound like at first. →That being said, in the bedroom, he’s a touch more vocal! He gives such sweet praise- telling you how good you’re doing for him! How good you feel around him. He’s more likely to give soft gasps than to actually moan, but every now and then, one slips free, low and rumbling deep in his chest. →After the War, Shino grows more comfortable in himself- he holds himself with more confidence and no longer wears the large coat that he used to hide behind. Instead, he swaps it out for a fitted turtleneck that does absolutely nothing to hide the muscles that he’d built up over the years. Just because his main method of fighting is with his insects doesn’t mean he never trained. He was on a team with Kiba and Hinata- he’s built up lean muscle over the years. →Shino can be a gentle lover. He’s a surprisingly big fan of body worship- settling his lover down onto their bed and spending his time smoothing his hands over their curves, gripping at their hips before dragging blunt nails across the sensitive skin of their inner thighs before soothing the area with his lips and tongue. His partner won’t be leaving that bed until he’s made it clear that regardless of how they view themself, he believes them to be a deity trapped in mortal skin. →That being said, he isn’t afraid to be rough. He’s a VERY big fan of shibari- both in the sexual and nonsexual sense. To have someone trust him enough to allow him to rig them up and leave them suspended mid-air is riveting- or to allow him to tie them up and leave them with a toy inside while he leaves the room for a good half hour, leaving them to whine and moan and complain before he returns to see what sort of mess they’d made. →Big, big, big fan of hitting it from the back. Any position that allows him to grip their hips and pull them back onto his cock gets five stars from him. Even reverse cowgirl works well for him. But let him hit it from the back- when you look over your shoulder, you’ll find that he has a hand wrapped around his own throat as he’s fucking into you as if his life depends on it. →He’s more of a fan of choking HIMSELF than his partner choking him. It takes a lot for him to trust someone enough to let them wrap their hands around his throat. That conversation is an important one to have- what hard stops they both have, what they’re alright with, what they would be willing to try. →He’s a little too interested in wax play. As in, he already has candles specifically for wax play. If his partner shows genuine interest in it, he’s more than willing to give them a taste- Or to let them try it on himself. →Oh, right- man’s hung. He’s no monster, but he has a decent length of 7.3 inches! But the kicker is how thick it is- we’re talking coke can thickness. He’s got a girth that makes you shudder just thinking about how full you’ll feel when he finally fucks you. He’s self aware- he knows how big he is! →Which is why he’ll settle between his partner’s thighs and bring them to completion twice with his fingers or mouth before he even considers making love to them. But there’s also another reason for this- →Shino is a service switch. He finds great pleasure in making his partner feel good, and could (and has) cum from making them cum. It doesn’t happen often, but every once and a while, he falls into these moods where he cannot get enough of you, and spends hours with his face between your thighs, bringing you to completion over and over.

[yoonsshadow]

ETERNAL - i

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; murder, death, violence, blood, guns, burnt bodies, nudity [nonsexual], nightmares, drugs? [sleeping pills], a bunch of boys being in love

➳ word count ; 4.8k

➳ note ; I watched The Old Guard on Netflix [a serious recommend if you haven’t already seen it] and got hit with major inspiration. Nothing better than found-family and immortal soulmates. I put of a lot of time, effort and love into this, so please treat it with delicate hands. And please, please, give me feedback if you like it. Thank you, and enjoy :)

They have done this before, enough times—too many times—to be familiar with the routine. 

The nightmares, all too vivid and yet frustratingly vague, of blood and pain and death. Glimpses of a face they have never seen, memories that do not belong to them. The lingering thoughts of why another, why now, why at all?

They have done this many times, and yet it never gets easier, never makes sense.

⎯⎯⎯

When they submit to the clutches of slumber, it is beneath the glowing moonlight that shines through the broken ceiling of an abandoned church. Overgrown with vines that hold the crumbling walls together and hidden behind bushes and weeds and shadows, this building will be safe, for them. For now. It may not provide much warmth, or much shelter, but it gives them a sense of anonymity that they so desperately depend on. Right now, it hides them from the world. They are nothing but each other’s, so long as they are here.

Usually, sleep brings peace. Long ago did they learn how to banish demons from their dreams, memories of pasts both true and terrible, and so through sleep they find temporary solace from the demands of their long lives. They hold each other in their warm arms, forget about their worries if only for a brief moment. They are but seven men, seven soulmates, seven loves, existing together without burden.

Until tonight.

It is familiar, the weight that descends upon their chests, pushes against their rib cages. An invisible force both squeezing them and pulling them apart, flooding them with vague images, sounds, feelings. In sleep, they hold each other tighter, safer, but they cannot escape the myriad of memories and thoughts that fill their minds.

A pair of eyes, so brown that they are pure, so dark that they are nearly black, blink at them as sweat begins to shine upon their skin. These eyes are young, but they hold wisdom, maturity, that can only come with death. Witnessing it, causing it, experiencing it. These eyes are filled with desperation in this moment, but also a stubborn determination; they know what is coming, and yet they will continue to fight until their dying breath, as they vowed⎯⎯

⎯⎯a uniform, black, stained with dirt and blood, without any identifying marks. No dog-tags, but a tan line around a soft neck where they would normally hang. Trained muscles behind firm fabric, knowledgeable fingers clutching a military assault rifle. Steel-toed boots, scuffs through the polish, dirt in the seams and drops of red in the laces⎯⎯

⎯⎯heart beating through chest, adrenaline spiking, but something’s wrong, this isn’t supposed to happen, how did they know we were coming? Need to get out, need to get to cover, need to save⎯⎯

⎯⎯the enemies found them, caught them, have them, bound and bloodied in a dark cave or dungeon, they can’t tell. Chains rattle against stone where bodies shift for comfort, but no comfort can be found for bleeding wounds, broken bones, bruised skin. Eyes connect, know they’re saying goodbye, can’t speak but wish they could say something, apologise, curse, plead, pray. By the time footsteps stomp their way in, handgun cocked and aimed at their foreheads, they have already accepted that⎯⎯

Gasps echo in the silence as seven bodies jerk awake, trembling and sweating and aching with pains that another is experiencing. Their minds are still clouded, submerged within their dreams, but they know this routine. They know what they have just seen.

Hands scramble beneath their makeshift bedding as they reach for their journals, their pens, and begin to scribble whatever details they can remember ⎯ eyes, blood, pain, death. They’ve all clung to different images, and they desperately remember everything they can before it washes away with their wakeful clarity.

“I saw, um, eyes,” chokes the youngest, his pencil already sketching the eyelashes with careful precision. “Brown, dark. Looked like a girl’s.”

“She had to be military,” says another. “Maybe special forces? No insignia on the uniform and dog-tags were taken off. Black-ops?”

“I saw a glimpse of a scar on her hand. Might help to identify her.”

“There were others, too; a team. I have a feeling she was the leader.”

“It was a rescue operation, but I don’t think they succeeded. The enemies saw them coming. She was confused as to how.”

“Did you see the gun she was shot with? That’s military grade. It was either supplied by somebody on the force, or they were the force.”

“God, I have a headache.” Seokjin rubs his temples, a pain lingering behind his eyes but never ceding. “Never thought after three-hundred years that we’d get another one.”

Arms curl around him, a sigh breathed into his neck. “Me too, hyung.” Jeongguk nuzzles closer, finds comfort in the warmth of his lover’s broad shoulders. “I feel sorry for her. Now she’s going to have to deal with this too.”

“Hey, what did I say about pessimism?” Namjoon’s pointed look is directed towards the youngest, but the words are for everybody to hear. A reminder. “Our lives may be long, and hard, and difficult to deal with at times. But we have the opportunity to help people, to affect change, and, most importantly,” his eyes soften, “to have each other.”

“Wah, hyung’s going soft on us,” Taehyung grins, leaning his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

Behind him, Jimin clings around his torso like a koala. “Yeah, those are big words for somebody who so often tells us how insufferable we are,” he agrees.

Sitting up, Yoongi joins the conversation with a voice still deep with sleep. “That’s because you are insufferable. But that doesn’t mean that hyungs love you any less. Eternal life would be extremely dull if we didn’t have you annoying us constantly.”

Taehyung and Jimin smile at each other, eyes glittering with something devious, and something close to love. “You all just bore witness to that,” Jimin says, pointing at Yoongi. “You all heard him say that, so you can’t yell at us for being annoying ever again!”

“Free pass!” Taehyung agrees.

Hoseok, still lounging his head in Yoongi’s lap, rolls his eyes. “Yoongi-hyung said it, but none of us did, so we can, and will, still yell at you.”

The two pout, but question it no further. They could spend centuries arguing over petty things⎯have, regrettably⎯but they’d much rather get along. For now, forever.

“Hyungs,” a small voice whispers into the silent air, drawing attention to where the maknae still hugs into Seokjin’s back. He’s pouting, and they want to coo at him, but his next words break them out of their reverie of adoration. “What about the girl?”

Your ears are ringing when you finally wake, images of your nightmares still clinging to your mind, so vivid, so real. They were filled with pain, and fear, and the bloodied faces of your soldiers as they were shot one after the other. You remember screaming for them, pleading, hoping against hope that they’d listen. But, instead, you had watched them die.

You hope that you didn’t scream aloud, didn’t wake your team. They deserve the rest, even if you couldn’t have it.

Muscles stiff and aching from a restless slumber, you shift in your cot, move to adjust the blanket. But your cot is harder than you’d like, your blanket out of reach. In fact, you can’t move your arms at all.

When your heavy eyelids finally open, you realise why your dreams had felt so real.

The stench of blood and death is so thick in the air that you can taste it, that bitter tang against your tongue bringing bile up to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t just sore, it’s screaming; it’s as though you can feel your muscles re-knitting together after being torn apart. And maybe it’s panic that crushes against your lungs, constricting your airways, or maybe it’s grief.

Because as soon as your eyes land on the dead bodies of your teammates, you can’t breathe.

Your throat is so sore from screaming and crying that the sounds escaping it are torn and scratchy, but you can’t hold them in. Not when you see your friend’s brain splattered over the wall behind her; not when you see your second-in-command holding her hands together, mid-prayer when the shot was fired.

You sob, and yell, and cry out until your throat is raw, and then when you have no voice left, you continue. You may not be dead yet⎯and for what reason, you don’t want to know⎯but you don’t think that you’ll ever truly live after this. How does one move on from their friends, their family, being slaughtered before their very eyes? How does one process the fact that they were left behind?

Through the crushing weight on your chest and the searing pain in your throat, you hear footsteps approaching. The heavy boots do nothing to hide their owner’s steps, impatient and strong, but you can’t find it within yourself to be afraid. The worst thing they can do is torture you some more, maybe even kill you, but you’d welcome death at this stage; you’d welcome reprieve from the sorrow that threatens to swallow you whole.

It’s a man, unsurprisingly, who walks through the mouth of the dark cave, ugly face covered by a mask pulled up to his eyes. He looks at you, something in his half-hidden expression that you don’t have the energy to place, and then says something in a language that you cannot understand.

Heaving a breath and swallowing blood, you meet his sharp eyes. “I don’t understand you.” Your words scratch their way out, hardly discernible, so you try again. “I won’t tell you anything, so just kill me and get it over with.”

This time he shouts, still angry but this time not at you, though he never tears his gaze off your crumpled figure. Like if he blinks, you may disappear.

Once again, hurried and heavy footsteps make their way into the room, a pair of men joining their comrade. These ones are holding guns. You can’t find it within yourself to flinch.

More foreign words are thrown at you, some that seem like questions, but your mind is too rattled, head too sore, to even try to comprehend what they might want from you. Your shoulders ache from where your arms are secured behind you, and your legs ache from hours⎯maybe days?⎯of disuse. So you sigh, level what you hope is a glare towards the two newcomers, and repeat, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Looks exchanged between them, hesitation, and then, “You should be dead. Why are you not dead?”

In a moment of weighted silence, you try to determine if they’re serious. Because surely they aren’t asking you how you are alive while being held captive by them. But they don’t elaborate, so you’re left with an even greater migraine than before. “Are you fucking serious?”

The expletive makes them simultaneously point their rifles at you, and this time, you do stiffen. You may be feeling slightly suicidal right now, but you also have reflexes.

“I don’t know why I’m alive.” The admission is spat from between your teeth, reluctant and bitter. “Why don’t you ask whoever it was that killed the rest of my team?”

“I killed your team,” one of them says. The first one. Without a gun, obviously having thought there would be no threat in entering this dungeon. “I killed you, too, shot you in the head myself. So tell me again. Why are you alive?”

“Maybe you’re a bad shot,” you reply. “How am I to fucking know why you let me live? Now do me a favour, will you? Either let me go or shoot me for real this time.”

You don’t have time to register the sound of the gunshot before the bullet goes through your forehead.

“Anything?”

A sigh is the only response that Namjoon receives. 

“Alright,” he continues, “what do we know for sure about her?”

“Honestly, hyung?” Jimin looks up from the laptop he’s perched at. “I don’t think we even truly know if it’s a woman. We saw her⎯their⎯eyes, but not much else. Like, sure, we think it’s a woman, we’re pretty sure of it, but nothing’s certain. The visions were really vague this time around.”

“He’s right,” Yoongi agrees, never looking up from the screen of his own computer. “I’ve been searching the military databases, but it’s hard to pinpoint covert operations that don’t technically exist. We didn’t get a dog tag number, or an insignia, or even an idea of which country’s military she’s in. I hate to say it, but we might just need to wait until tonight. Get some more pieces of the puzzle.”

This is what Namjoon was afraid of, not that he was expecting anything else. His boys are good, but even they can’t work miracles.

“I feel sorry for her,” Jeongguk hums, cheek pressed into the couch cushion where he’s taken a rest from research. Not that he ever really started; that was always his hyungs’ strong points. “I mean, she’s all alone right now, probably really confused, really scared. I know I was before you all found me.”

That sentence strains their hearts, makes them pause. Jeongguk had been alone for nearly a decade before they had finally found him, lonely and of unsound mind, unaware of the curse he’d been unwillingly given. They’d spent years helping him heal, helping him accept, and now they can proudly say that he is stable and content. Happy, even, sometimes.

You, however. You are in the exact same place that he was. Maybe worse, they don’t know.

Taking slow steps towards the couch, Hoseok gently lifts Jeongguk’s legs to place them on his lap when he sits. He feels the strong calf muscles beneath his fingers as he strokes the uncovered skin, bare only for their eyes, until the young one has relaxed his worried muscles.

“I know it’s hard, Jeongguk-ie,” Hoseok says, voice just above a whisper, soft and yet sure. “I know that we all want to find her as soon as possible, but we can’t just yet. Hopefully the next dream will give us more, but until then, we just have to stay focused. Let’s not get lost in that mental spiral, okay?”

Jeongguk hums, not fully sated with the answer but understanding nonetheless. “M’kay, hyung.”

The comfortable silence in the room following their conversation doesn’t even stretch five minutes before a figure slams into the building, flourishing his arms and announcing his arrival enthusiastically.

“We’re back, bitches!”

Seokjin follows behind Taehyung, closing the church doors after the younger had slammed them open and looking exhausted. “Taehyung chatted with the cashier for half an hour before he even asked for help. We could have been back hours ago.”

“Hey.” Taehyung directs a look at the oldest. “Her outfit coordination was unlike anything I’ve seen this century. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s as old as Hoseok-ie hyung!”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Hoseok asks Seokjin, who is smiling despite himself.

“Definitely a compliment. I’ll admit, she reminded me of that one fashion mogul we knew in Paris. The one...Jimin, you know the one I’m talking about. Red hair, lazy eye?”

“It wasn’t a lazy eye, hyung,” Jimin corrects, “she was just keeping an eye out in all directions.”

“Yeah, anyway,” Seokjin says, “none of that matters. We got the stuff. Took a while, but we got it.”

Taehyung empties his plastic shopping bag onto a wiped-down old table, cardboard boxes falling onto the surface. “I’ve got to say, modern medicine is pretty ground-breaking. I wish we were smart enough to have invented it earlier.”

“Do you think it’ll work?” Yoongi asks, sounding a lot less interested than he actually is. “I wouldn’t think that sleeping pills would affect us.”

At this, Namjoon bites his lip. “Usually, I’d agree with you, but I’ve been doing some thinking. If the pills aren’t hurting us, our bodies shouldn’t heal too quickly; they should still have time to take effect. Just like how we can get drunk but not have liver issues, or smoke but not get cancer.”

“But smoking’s still gross,” Jeongguk mumbles.

“So,” Hoseok ponders aloud, “if we take the pills, it should prolong our sleep so that we can lengthen the dream? Do you think it’ll work?”

“We’ve never been able to test it,” Namjoon shrugs. “The worst thing that could happen is our body processes it quicker than it works, and we have a normal night’s sleep with normal visions. It’s worth a shot.”

“I think a few of us should not take the pills,” Seokjin says. “That way, if the pills really do work, some of us can still wake up normally in case of an emergency.”

Namjoon nods his head in agreement. “Okay. We’ll rock-paper-scissors it tonight. Until then, let’s rest.”

The second time you wake up, you are significantly less disorientated. You know where you are, what has happened and, most importantly, that you should definitely be dead.

You’d seen the gun, heard the click, felt the bullet spilt through your skull. You know what a killing shot is, have dealt a few yourself, so you know that you should not be opening your eyes to an intense headache right now.

An acrid odour drifts through your dazed thoughts, a stench so strong, so unpleasant, that bile immediately rises and spills from your mouth. You don’t have much to vomit, so you spit mostly water and stomach acid onto the ground beneath you as you wretch from your aching throat.

No, not the ground. Something far worse.

When the tears from your eyes clear away and you look to the ground, you see what is digging into your skin, jabbing at your muscles; you aren’t sure why, or how, but you are lain across a pile of bones and scraps of cloth, sizzling flesh still warm to the touch and sticking to you in chunks. You are atop a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and soaked to the bone with the reeking smell of charred flesh.

Your stomach is empty, and so you can only scramble from the pile and retch.

For several minutes, all you can do is allow your body’s attempt to empty itself on the ground. Even more so than before, your mind is overwhelmed with thoughts and questions and worries, most of which lead to the fact that you are lying naked in the middle of a desert, next to a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and somehow alive.

You are at least thankful that you are already lying on the ground when you faint.

*

There are seven pairs of eyes⎯brown, warm⎯that look at you, look at each other. Words remain unspoken, for the pupils reveal every thought, every emotion. I care for you deeply, they say, now and forever. The words are not meant for you, not yet, but they feel familiar. As if you have heard them in every past life⎯

⎯Surrounded by trees, a sight which would usually calm you but now only acts as a hindrance, you run through the familiar forest without grace. Bare feet bleed trails of red through the undergrowth, sore arms never dropping the heavy weapons that slow you down so. You should not be alone, never usually are, but now you are accompanied only by your panic and the wolves that chase you. These ones, however, do not howl or gnash their feral jaws; they calculate, the way only a human can⎯

⎯Metal hangs heavy around your lithe neck, skin raw and bleeding beneath its unrelenting grip. Fingers grab into your filthy hair, knotting into your bun. Worthless piece of filth, growls a man. You are not unfamiliar with his tone, nor his insults, though this is the first time you have felt a glob of saliva being spat onto your cheek. Can’t even follow the basic rules. Somebody really ought to make an example of you⎯

⎯This room is bright, brighter than the last, and yet somehow glooms darker than all. Shadows hang heavy in the corner where invasive eyes hide, but you can look only to the man who sits in front of you, posture relaxed despite the tensity that thickens the air. Go on, he taunts as you are shoved to your knees, the pain nothing compared to the fear that fills you at the sight of the executioner’s sword. Show us that smile of yours. Grant the world one more. Grant him, he nods towards another figure who you refuse to meet gazes with, one last dazzling grin. You do not, but you do whisper an apology under your breath, one that will never be heard⎯

⎯Gold silk hangs from your broad shoulders, the fabric draping gracefully down your tall body. Each detail stitched into the delicate robe sparkles in the candlelight, patterns that tell stories of love and power and beauty. Jeonha, somebody says to you, a face that is hidden from your view. I am sorry for this, Jeonha. Gold silk soon turns crimson when the knife plunges into your back. You are not even allowed the courtesy of looking into your killer’s eyes⎯

⎯You had always thought that you would live longer, survive the odds set against you, but you know now, as your mother tends to the gash carved into your chest, that this time, luck is not your benefactor. It is not so bad, she assures, though you know the look in her eyes, see the light in them dimmed with grief of a life not yet lost. You wish to tell her everything, anything, but the words bubble up in your throat and you struggle to spit them out. She knows, though, you can see that she knows, and her calming hand rests over your heart, which beats slower and slower with each moment. I love you, my sun, my son. Rest well. Her hand grows cold, or maybe that is you. For you no longer feel, no longer worry, only close your eyes and fall⎯

⎯Urgency pumps your blood faster, the sound echoing in your ears, as your weeping eyes search around you. Nothing, not the chaos around you nor the wound in your shoulder, can stop your wobbly legs from moving, not when you have to find him. There you are, comes his voice from behind you, and you turn so quickly that you become dizzy. But he is there, wounded yet alive, and he is offering you a smile that you struggle to return. You fall into his arms, he into yours, hold each other with all the strength that you have. And when an arrow pierces through your heart, spearing through his chest, you are connected even when you fall, lifeless⎯

*

This time, you wake with a gasp and a speeding heart, images so vivid still lingering in your mind. Your chest is still sore where your heart lies, the organ heavy with another’s grief, and you are surprised to find yourself covered in your own tears.

Still in the dirt, still nude, still alive, and still confused, you know that the only way to survive is to keep moving. Memories of dreams that had felt so real may plague your mind for a while, but you cannot dwell. You have had nightmares before, strange and also plausible ones, and you know. You know that to submit to the darkness of your own mind is a death sentence in itself. So you stand up, dust off your bare skin, and begin walking in an unknown direction.

You only cast one glance back at the bodies behind you. Your team, in all probability. Your friends. You are leaving them in the middle of nowhere.

This, too, you do not allow yourself to dwell on. Not now. Not yet.

Though the night has long since begun, darkness creeping into every corner of the room, one figure lies awake, thinking. Listening.

He is selfish, he supposes, for choosing not to sleep in a time when it can be so important. He should be allowing the visions to greet him, remembering the details, soaking it all in. Instead, he blinks away his exhaustion in exchange for wandering thoughts. He is not ready to allow another’s memories into his mind; for his to enter their’s. He has unwillingly revealed his sins to far too many already.

Hoseok is afraid. And he is tired.

Around him, his six loves breathe deeply, bodies relaxed in slumber and minds lost to the visions of their eighth soul. Some stir, occasionally, and he is sure he’s heard one of the maknaes whimper, but all is otherwise silent.

He would die a million painful deaths just to ensure that they could maintain this peace forever. He supposes he has, already. But he doesn’t regret it. Not for them.

Though the silence is calming, it also beckons his eyes closed and his mind into darkness. So, in an attempt to battle the tantalising call of sleep, he rolls over, stands up, and quietly sneaks out of the crumbling building they’ve taken shelter in.

The air outside nips at his skin, prickling goosebumps down his back and arms, but it is always chilly at this time of year, in this part of Europe. He forgets which country they’re in. Possibly close to France, but likely somewhere in Italy. He can smell salt in the air, the ocean not far away.

Yes. Italy.

Through thick undergrowth and overgrown weeds he wanders, mind idle and busy all at once. His feet take him around the perimeter of the area⎯a consequence, he supposes, of living a paranoid life⎯but his thoughts are elsewhere. On a girl he has yet to meet. On you.

How will you react, he wonders, to this life? To them? Through the brief flashes he has seen of you, you are a woman who seems steadfast, capable, and determined. But he’d also seen your team; felt the love you hold for them. Will you be able to part from the life that you can no longer lead? Will you eventually accept them as your new family?

There are too many questions, too many things to worry about. This is why he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching him from behind until two arms wrap around his shoulders.

“You should be asleep.” The words are whispered beside his ear, warm breath fanning down his neck. He shivers, but doesn’t respond. “What’s wrong? Let me help.”

Hoseok sags into the strong embrace, allows the arms to tighten around his chest, and sighs. “I’m worried, Namjoon.” Namjoon hums, doesn’t say anything. “Is it selfish of me to not want to see her memories? To not want her in my head?”

A pair of plump lips kiss the tip of his ear. “Perhaps,” Namjoon says. When Hoseok stiffens, he pulls him closer. “But being selfish is not necessarily a bad thing. You are allowed to prioritise yourself every once in a while.” Namjoon can sense that Hoseok is not yet appeased, so he adds, “There are six of us here to take the visions when you can’t. And if you do decide to rest, there will be six of us here to hold you through it. Being selfish does not mean that you are alone.”

“I’m so tired,” Hoseok whispers, and they both know that he is not referring to his lack of sleep. “We’ve all got such baggage, so much hurt, and I wonder if adding the weight of an eighth will be too much.”

“Hey.” Namjoon gently turns Hoseok in his arms, holding him close still. They look into each other’s eyes, see everything that they have grown familiar with. That they have grown to love. “We will also have another person to help share the load. For now and forever, we are in this together. It’s okay to have doubts, or worries, but never forget that you are ours and we are yours.”

Foreheads touch and eyes close, the silence of the night engulfing them as they share each other’s heat. And here, they are okay. They still have fears, still have troubling thoughts, but they are not so bad when they are together.

“C’mon,” Namjoon mumbles. “Let’s go back inside. Whether you decide to sleep or not, we should stay with the others. You know how they can get about cuddle piles.”

This does make Hoseok breathe a laugh. “Okay. And hey, Namjoon.” He presses their lips together in a brief, soft kiss. “Thank you, my love.”

“My eternal,” Namjoon replies.

That night, they both allow sleep to take them. They join the others in dreams of bloodshed, heartache, and death. And they hold each other a little closer. And they are okay.

< prev ⎯ next >

[cottoncandyjester]

Your OCs are so cute! How would they handle a darling that counters them i.e. theo w/ someone who can see through his manipulation, hikari w/ someone who refuses to be belittled, prince w/ a prudish or nonsexual darling?

Oh such a good question! thank you very much for the praise they are my babies ✨

This story contains: talk of sex, talk of abuse,drugs, mutilation, manipulation yandere behavior

Theodore

You don't fall for his bullshit

His emotional manipulation doesn't work on you

This both frustrated and amazed him

You were much stronger than he thinks

But it annoys him that he can't go the simple and painless route for this

Everytime he tries to manipulate you it usually ends with you shutting him down

"darling, my sweet angel won't it be much smarter if you stayed with me..listen to me"

"nope. I do what I want"

Wait you can't say that! That's illegal!

He immediately panicked and used force to knock you out

If his words won't work then it seems he has to keep you heavily sedated

Being a med student has beautiful benefits

He doesn't want to keep you like this but it's just until you comply

"angel? Sweetie..? Can you tell me what day it is?"

Silence.

A sigh escaped him as he watched your dull glazed eyes stare back into his, you definitely were too out of it to respond back. He unbuckled the straps he had put on the wheelchair before scooping you up and walking to the bedroom to place you into bed.

"maybe when the drugs wear off you'll be better yeah? I really hate seeing you like this..I miss our conversations and I miss your adorable fiery behavior even if it was a tad bit frustrating"

As he slid his jacket off he crawled into the bed with you hugging you close with a happy sigh inhaling the smell of your hair now

"we can try again tomorrow"

Hikaru

You brush off his insults and he hates it

His temper explodes and so he reacts in violence

Pure rage and violence

He'll put a permanent scar or mark on you that everyone could see

You will definitely have to deal with his feral side

He wants to be sweet and loving to you but he will also do what it takes to have you

You make things such a challenge

If fear of death makes you stay than damn it that's what he has to do

"come to me cutie, don't you want to cuddle?"

"I rather chew nails"

"the hell did you say, pig?"

His sharp tone made you huff lightly, his degrading was nothing new to you if anything you would just throw it right back at him

"you're th pig not me. You are as ugly as one"

Uh oh.

Hikaru tensed up and scowled before walking over to you and gripping you by your hair, giving it a harsh tug and pulling you on your knees in front of him

"listen here bitch, watch your damn mouth before I cut your tongue off! You stupid selfish disgusting-"

Hikaru Inhaled deeply letting out a shaky breath as he let go and cupped your face in his hands his blue eyes swirling with a devilish idea

"you know..you don't need fingers and a tongue to be adorable darling. I'll love you either way, so maybe it's time to make some changes"

Axis

No matter how helpless and pathetic he looks you won't fall for it

He could have been sobbing into your lap begging you to stay and you'll just push him off

This wasn't good

His method didn't work

He had to come up with something new

He restored to desperate measures

If you were handicapped as well you would have no choice but to stay

Doesn't want to hurt you

Sobs while doing it

Will only do it if all other choices fail

"p-please stay-"

"no, I'm leaving for good. Nothing you say will change that"

Axis was on his knees begging you to stay, he was crying so hard now knowing what had to be done. He leaned his head against your stomach with a gentle sigh as he slipped a hand into his pocket

"I understand, after all you can walk out if you wish just know that i love you"

"thank you for being understanding axis now please le-"

You winced and screamed when the male stabbed a needle into your thigh looking up at you his eyes pouring with tears, he looked like it hurt him more than it did you

"i-its okay honey! I'll treat you well, I'll just do something quick and easy like break your legs or maybe paralyze you from the waist down, we can be broken together"

He stood up as you were becoming limp in his arms and he peppered kisses lovingly along your face and neck with a happy hum

"I love you my sweetie"

Prince

Okay...no sex on the first day got it he can wait a day

A week later. No sex..okay?

Two weeks went by and now he was getting worried

You cringed at the utter mention of sex

He was going through a withdrawal

It was driving him crazy how much of a prude you were

Poor boy was being blueballed and he didn't like it

Pleasuring himself was totally not enough

He wanted to feel you

This was how he showed his love and the fact that he couldn't made him pissed

Hell your clothes covered your entire body

You even wore wet suits at the beach

WHO DOES THAT?!

by two months he had snapped

He couldn't take it anymore

He restored to drugging your drink with several aphrodisiacs

He kinda went crazy and mixed a bunch of different ones together

After that it doesn't take long til you are panting and writhing from the feeling

He was only being a sweetheart and decided to help

"what's wrong baby?"

Prince smirks against his beer can as he watched you press your legs together whining and whimpering as your body felt like it would melt.

"i-i feel hot..so hot"

Prince made sure to strike during a cuddle session, he put his can down and held you close tightly looking at you curiously, his smirk only getting wider when he saw just how adorable you looked

"should I help you!"

"i-we shouldn't-"

"do you want to suffer?"

That statement made you whine as he trailed his hands along your body watching you squirm around wildly

"calm down, I'll be gentle I'm just trying to help baby cUse this feeling won't go away on its own"

He will have to use drugs more often

Yuki

Blackmail doesn't work on you

You have nothing to lose it seems

This annoyed him

He just wants to love you why are you being so mean

He just wants to love you

He is normally too lazy for force but if he has to he will

His use of force will just be tying you up and holding you close

If he has to gag you he will

He will make sure you won't leave

Every escape you try is only met with disappointment

He always stays calm

Until you decide to break his fantasy

"leave me alone!"

"be kinder to your boyfriend..."

"oh my fucking God! You aren't my boyfriend! We aren't anything you are just a sicko who is obsessed with me! Go away!"

"but-"

I DONT WANT YOU! I NEVER WILL!"

There was silence after that and a soft sniffle escaped him before he simply reached out fast gripping your wrist while using his free hand to wipe his tears.

"that's not true- not true not true. You just forgot I'll have to remind you just how much I love you"

With that he threw you over his shoulder while tears rolled down his cheeks, he needed a good nap to sleep the depression away and if course you will be at his side so he can cuddle but first he has to take care of you.

You were so mean so he figured he can use his piercing kit to do something about that mouth, he's never pierced someone's mouth shut but maybe he can do that

[no-whump-on-main]

Apartment 307-7 (This is for Your Own Good)

this is for your own good-requested by @magpiewhump

TWs: Heavy chapter overall. Creepy, sadistic whumper, noncon nonsexual touching, branding, victim-blaming, passing thought of emeto but none actually shown, thoughts of death

Clyde started to worry about Elora when she still hadn’t woken back up at six p.m when he got back from work, over ten hours after she passed out due to him completely exhausting her magic. He walked in and checked on her the very moment after he put his things down on the kitchen counter, and there she was, still passed out, curled up on her side like a little terrified animal. He left, deciding to let her sleep some more-he was concerned, of course, but not terribly so. She did seem rather drained when he left. He would’ve loved to spend the evening with her, but he resolved to show a little sympathy and let her sleep. Still, he checked on her about every hour, only to find her still passed out in the exact same position every single time. He began to get irritated when she still wasn’t up around eleven-he just wanted to sleep, at that point, but he was worried she’d wake up at any moment and start causing a scene. Screaming, trying to escape, doing whatever it was she did-hell, he didn’t know. She was unpredictable.

He still didn’t even know what he thought about her. He was fascinated, of course, by her magic, by her mere life-that’s why he had to have her-but he still didn’t know how he felt about her as a person. She was awfully stubborn and had terrible language for a young woman, but she was beautiful, exquisitely so, especially when her eyes were watery with tears and she had that determined expression despite the fear he knew was crippling her.

God, he just wanted to break her. He wanted to study her first and foremost, of course, but as a side project of sorts, he wanted to see that iron resolution dissolve, just like that, because of him.

He decided to head to sleep, freshening up in his master bath before heading to sleep. His room was nothing special; it smelled like a mix of dirty bath mats and moth balls, and all it really had for furniture was a desk on the verge of collapsing, a mattress on the floor, and boxes that still hadn’t been unpacked despite him having moved in over a decade ago.

But that night, he went to sleep happy, unbothered by the chaos and dirty apartment and his seemingly menial life. Because he knew what to do. He had direction, for once. Elora brought him that. She was like a quest, a puzzle to solve, and he’d had a eureka moment. To break her, he’d have to teach her that she wasn’t her own anymore. That she was his, because clearly, she’d been struggling with the concept.

And he knew exactly how to do it.

~

When Elora woke up, she felt like she was having the worst hangover she'd ever experienced, multiplied by ten. She was dizzy, her mouth was dry, and a pounding headache had settled in the back of her skull, each throb feeling like a firework exploding inside her head.

It was pitch black, not a single ray of light coming in from the crack underneath the door, so she assumed that it was either the middle of the night or early morning. That meant she slept for, god-eighteen, twenty hours? That was probably half of why she felt like shit. Draining her body of all the energy it had like that was both excruciatingly painful and awfully exhausting. It was also decidedly horrible for her body-she was never supposed to work herself like that. Hell, she wasn’t sure how she even survived exerting that much.

At the very least, she had some time to herself. It was nice to be alone for a while, to recoup between sessions of vicious torture.

She sat back against the wall, staring up at the pitch black ceiling. Time was fuzzy, but she thought it was...Tuesday, now? So her mom certainly knew she was gone, and she had told the police, and they were looking for her.

She hoped. She just-she really, really hoped that someone was coming for her soon. Before anything worse happened, while she could still come back from it. While she could still come home alive, herself, shaken, but herself.

She ended up dozing off for a few minutes and waking up again a few times as the hours passed by, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She knew exactly when the sun was rising; the crack underneath the door slowly began to get less dark, going from black, to an inky gray, to a pale orange, and finally, to real yellow light. A little sliver of a sunrise. Even after just a couple of days, she missed the sun. The bathroom was windowless, and that alone made it suffocating. She’d do anything, pay any amount of money in the world, just to go outside, see a sunrise, and breathe. Just breathe, for a moment, just catch her breath.

As excited as she wanted to be about the taste of a sunrise, all she felt was dread. Every morning she’d been awake to see the pattern, so far, she’d noted that he came in just after sunrise.

So she only had a few minutes, then.

She just hoped that he would make the pain brief.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply when she heard his footsteps pattering down the hallway, exhaling when she heard the doorknob turn.

He flicked the light switch on and the sudden brightness hurt her eyes, so much so that she quickly wrenched them shut. And when he spoke, it felt like his voice was booming, much louder than it actually was. She wanted to cover her ears, but resisted the urge, much too scared to take out another sense and be so vulnerable to him.

He acknowledged her reactions with a hum, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Jeez, you’ve been out for a while. It’s about time you woke up. What’s the face for? You okay?”

Elora shook her head, replying bitterly. “Not supposed to use that much magic. Feels kinda like a really bad hangover.” He always smelled like cheap beer. Maybe he’d have some sympathy for that.

“Mh. You’ll be fine. We have things to do today.”

Elora opened her eyes, at that point, looking over at him despite the deep burning sensation in her eyes. He was holding something behind his back, out of her view.

“I-I’ll do what you want,” she said shakily. “Whatever magic shit. I don’t care. We can-h-how about we just act symbiotically, huh? I’ll do whatever you want and you just don’t hurt me. Easy deal on your end, really.”

The man scoffed. “Funnily enough, I actually don’t need anything from you today. Just for you to stay still and be a good girl. I’ve got something to teach you.”

Her throat felt like it was coated in honey. She wanted to spit back that the last thing she would ever do is be a good girl, but she couldn’t form words. It was hard to breathe properly. She knew she was panicking. What did he mean?

Casually, he revealed what was behind his back. It looked like a big pen, with a long cord on one tapered end and a thick, linear metal tip on the other. He plugged the cord into the wall and set it down. Dimly, Elora wondered where she’d seen a weird pen like that. She knew it seemed familiar, it was for crafts, but she couldn’t remember quite what it was for. She blinked, her panic slowing her thoughts-

Woodburning. It was used for woodburning.

Her mouth dropped open in shock, her eyes instantly tearful as she looked on in pure horror, knowing what was going to be done to her. Clyde basked in her terror, grinning as he watched realization and fear strike her.

She was frozen, shocked into silence, so he took the opportunity to speak first. “You seem to be having a hard time with the concept that you’re mine. And what better way to mark that something is yours other than putting your name on it? That’s how I get my coworkers to stop eating my tuna salad from the community fridge.” He stopped to laugh at his own joke. No one liked tuna salad but him. His coworkers would never touch it. Elora looked utterly terrified. He didn’t care a bit, and went on. “But of course, you don’t need to know who I am. You don’t need my name. All you need to worry your pretty little head about is being good for me, got it? So what better than to teach you than to just mark you as mine?”

As panicked as she was, Elora suddenly went into survival mode, no longer able to just stand there and wait to be hurt. “NO!” she screamed. “No, please, I c-can learn! Please, you don’t need to do that. I-I-I told you, I’ll do what you want today, please!”

The man grinned, wagging his pointer finger at her. “Uh-uh-uh. We’re past that, little lark. You already showed me that you don’t know who you belong to when you so rudely refused to do as I told you with the plant and adamantly denied to heal yourself up until I made you.”

He stepped towards her, and she screamed, scrambling back to the other side of the bathtub. It didn’t do much, of course; he was still able to grab her just as easily. She kept screeching, and she fought, she fought tooth and nail, scratching, kicking, trying to bite him, but nothing worked. She was already getting weaker by the day.. He managed to unlock her handcuffs and lift her out of the tub within a minute, completely stopping her desperate fight when he threw her down on the hard tile by the sink where the pen was plugged into an outlet, knocking the breath out of her. She sputtered and coughed, trying to roll on her side, but before she could, he stopped her, straddling her waist, pinning her legs down with his own, and both her arms with his left, pulled tightly across her chest, his elbow digging into her right arm, keeping it in place, and his hand holding down her left. With his right hand, he grabbed the woodburner, the cord just long enough to reach down to the floor.

He frowned as he looked down at her screaming, thrashing form, then put the burner down. For a moment, Elora thought she was free. She thought she was free, she thought he was safe, she thought he reconsidered, she thought he wouldn’t do it.

“Woops. Forgot a step. You’re too damn much of a fighter.” Instead of letting her go like she wished, he fumbled to unbutton all three buttons on the top of her polo shirt. She felt like vomiting the entire time his fingers brushed against the skin of her chest, undoing the buttons painfully slowly, one by one. She shivered, but the room felt hot.

He picked up the burner again. “This is for your own good,” he said, his voice gruff and firm. He pulled her unbuttoned shirt to his right and brought the hot metal tip down upon her left collarbone.

The agony was blinding. She saw pure white as she screamed, keening, much louder than she had been before. She dimly felt the pain move up against her skin as the woodburner stroked upwards, then down diagonally, then up again diagonally, then back down. It left a trail of searing, red-hot pain. M. Mine.

Three more letters to go, and she already felt more blinding pain than she thought was possible.

Clyde frowned at her screaming, briefly putting the woodburner to the side, exchanging the pain for a gentle touch, softly running his hand through her hair. She continued screaming and tried to wiggle away from his hand, yet he ignored her blatant discomfort.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Quiet, my darling, it’ll be over soon.”

His words were far from comforting, though her screams did stop for all but a moment. They continued when he brought the woodburner back to her skin, drawing out an I, three torturous burning strokes. She thought she might pass out, might vomit, might die, the pain was so bad.

“Halfway there,” he said gently, when he finished burning the I into her skin. His voice had become gentle, kind. She didn’t understand it. “Shh, you’re alright. I had to do this, you know. This is for you. To help you learn.”

She shook her head madly, tears falling down her face and onto the tile floor. “Stop,” she croaked, her voice breaking. “Please, stop.”

He seemed genuinely apologetic. Maybe this was too much for him, too. Or maybe it was all an act. Elora couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. We’re halfway done already. It would be strange to stop here, with half of a word, no?”

And with that, he went on, with just as much brutal carelessness for her pain.

N. She had been switching between staring up at the ceiling blankly and squeezing her eyes shut while he branded her, but she was looking up for this letter, watching the ceiling spin, watching black spots dot her vision, watching as she slipped in and out of consciousness for a few seconds at the time.

She couldn’t even say that she was getting used to it. It hurt just as much now, a minute later, as it had when he started.

The smell started to catch up with her halfway through the N. It was awful, the overwhelmingly sickening scent seeping in and filling her nostrils. She couldn’t escape it. She had to breathe, had to inhale the scent of her burning flesh. There was no choice.

Just as the last upward stroke of the N danced like fire across her skin, the man’s hand carded through her hair again, his fingers rubbing her scalp kindly.

“Almost done, honey. Almost done. You’re doing great.”

She didn’t even have the strength to shake her head. She wasn’t his honey, she wasn’t doing great, this wasn’t for her, it was for him, he was crazy-

Her screams began to die out, her throat burning and raw, begging for air. They turned to weak, sobs, her expression twisted with agony.

E. A stroke up, one to the side at the top of that, another sidestroke in the middle, another at the bottom. She started to feel like she was up on the ceiling, floating. She couldn’t handle this.

What she felt was more than pain. She didn’t know how to describe it. But it was much, much worse than any sort of pain she knew. The burning agony mixed with the scent of her charred flesh in the air, the sensation of the man’s weight on top of her, his hand in her hair, his fingers unbuttoning her shirt combined to create the the most horrific thing she’d ever felt.

It was a new kind of misery. Something much worse than she even knew existed.

She gasped for air as the man slowly eased off of her, her chest finally able to expand properly. He let her arms go first, as a trial. She didn’t make any attempt to retaliate, so he got off of her legs, too, and stood. She laid there, half disassociated. The pain was too much for her to bear. Even though the woodburner was no longer directly on her skin, it still hurt just as much as when the hot metal had been making direct contact with her collarbone. It was still pure, utter agony.

“Remember,” the man’s voice boomed. “This was for you. You chose this, with your actions.”

She didn’t shake her head no, but she didn’t agree, either. She stayed perfectly still, right where she was, sobbing. She just sobbed. That was all she could do.

“Ice,” she begged weakly, her voice hoarse from her screams.

The man chuckled. “Oh, no, sweetie, no can do. Don’t want you getting any sort of first aid. I need it to scar as much as possible. That was the whole point.” He chuckled. Another sob ripped from her throat, and he began to feel slightly guilty.

“Here. I can do something for you. He opened the bathroom door and left, the burning flesh scent thankfully beginning to waft out. Elora knew that she should have gotten up and ran for the door the moment he left. She knew that she was missing what was probably her only chance to escape.

But she couldn’t make herself do it. She couldn’t make herself move.

He was back a few moments later, with a pillow and a blanket from his bed. He lifted her head up and placed the pillow beneath beneath it, shielding it from the hard tile. He draped the blanket over her body, smoothing it down around her with care. She’d be disgusted by his falsified kindness if she weren’t so distracted by the pain.

“And I’ll let you stay uncuffed for a while. I’m sorry, Elora, I really am, but this was the only way. You and I both know that. I’ll have to call out of work, can’t trust you alone and unchained. But that’s fine. I’ll just stay right here until you’re feeling a little better.”

He slid down the wall and sat across from her. All he could see on her face was pure sorrow. She didn’t sleep, despite the pillow and blanket; she wasn’t tired. She just hurt. She lay there, limp, weak, and crying, the pillowcase soaking up her silent tears as she pressed her mouth into a tight, thin line.

Clyde stared at her for several minutes then sighed and lit a cigarette. They’d be here for a while.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas

@badthingshappenbingo

[bitchapalooza]

How the nations spend Valentine's day

Denmark: He spends time with his friends and family! He gives them all snowdrops then spends a few hours with them before he leaves to let them have time to themselves. At home he usually just watches movies then falls asleep on the couch. He's not scared to sound so unbearably single, he's proud to say he's indulging in his own desires.

South Korea: He lazes around on February 14th and March 14th, more so celebrating April 14th— Black Day. He doesn't understand all the big hoo-blah of Valentine's Day nor does he really have anyone he wants to celebrate with, same goes for White Day. Either way, he uses each opportunity for self care really.

France: He handwrites personal cards to his immediate friends and family. Depending on who it is he'll also send a small meaningful gift. He sees Valentine's Day as a time to (nonsexually) show his partner he loves them as any other time he finds it hard to be incredibly honest with his feelings. And boy does he go all out...

China: He doesn't celebrate Valentine's Day himself, rather he attends the early Valentine's Day party America and France co-host every year. Instead he prefers the Qixi festival in August. He still doesn't take part in the festivities but he looks on at all the participants, happy they're having fun with the new modern takes. He doesn't like receiving gifts himself, he just sees more value in actions and words than material items.

Veneziano: He tends to reserve this day for his family nowadays. He invites his brothers over for a nice dinner that evening, spending the earlier half of the day cooking and baking their favorite individual meals to show he's listening to them and he cares(he wakes up VERY early to get a head start). He doesn't get much time due to work to actually hang out anymore so Valentine's Day is a good way to fix this.

Romano: The first half of his day he spends in the garden. He's not much of a fan of the holiday since he has such a hard time conveying his feelings in the first place. However if an abundance of his vegetables are ripe or his flowers are fully grown, he'll gather them up and leave them on his oldest neighbor's porch— she's a kind old lady who lost her husband and her kids, and grandkids, barely visit her now. He honestly hates to see her so alone on this day, just like him, but rather than feeling bad for himself he passes a good spirit onto someone else for once. Plus, he remembers when this little old lady was just a little girl running through his yard with her brothers to catch their runaway cat! Of course he's going give her a gift, even if anonymous(she knows but she understands her strange uncle Romano's ways :) ).

America: He celebrates it with Molossia and Canada, a full day of video games and prank calling random businesses that happen to be open. The day after they tend to go out and buy a bunch of the marked down candies and gorge themselves on it. They do regret this later however, especially Canada who's lactose intolerant..

Japan: He's quite embarrassed on this day most of all. He doesn't receive gifts very well, always not quite sure how to respond, and often stressing over what to give them back on March 14. He's always baffled by France's, America's, and Veneziano's gifts(often a set of candies from their respective countries or recipes for baked goods/candies that they know he'll enjoy making himself). He really appreciates their thoughts into these gifts. Now how to repay them....

Germany: He personally doesn't celebrate. He finds it be a redundant holiday as everyday should be used to show your love and care to your close ones. He spends the day like normal, with exception of opening whatever gift was sent by his friends and calling to thank them.

Prussia: He gets into a strange baking mood the entire month of February. He LOVES Valentine's Day because then he can share the cookies he made! He tries to get Germany celebrate with him— proposing his favorite cake to make together, go to Austria's to share some cookies with him and Hungary, watch some lame movies and heavily criticize them, ect— but he barely budges. Otherwise, he goes out drinking and has fun that way.

Spain: He takes part in the festivals nowadays rather than the holiday itself. He likes the bustling crowds and seeing his people in such high spirits. He sends gifts to literally everyone he knows, spending quite a lot but not regretting it at all. The exception to this, however, is he's never sending anything to Portugal. The two brothers have a long standing day of silence between each other out of pure unfiltered spite due the one year they BOTH happened to lace their chocolates with an unhealthy amount of citric acid.

[melancholicillusions]

platonic

adjective;

(of love or friendship) intimate and affectionate but not sexual.

"their relationship is purely platonic"

Similar: nonsexual, nonphysical

Requested By: princess-jinderella on wattpad

It was only 3 months ago that I became the newest addition to Seventeen. The newest addition that was a girl, the fans were quite surprised I cant blame em' I was surprised as well. I wasn't expecting to be put in an all boys group I was half expecting to either not debut or debut as a solo artist. Not surprisingly I was shipped with a good majority of the members, though for obvious reasons we never talked about it. The two most common members I was suspected of dating or liking, was Vernon because we tended to give one another little glances across the room and Dokyeom or DK because of our platonic relationship.

Because I was the newest member and the suspicion around my relationships with the boys we were packed with invitations from different variety shows, we ended up rejecting a great majority of them.. By majority I mean all but one.. Weekly Idol. Manly because it was already selected and scheduled.

____________________________

"Listen, Dk I hate this show..well specificity the two host." Sighing as I opened the door.

"Really Zuri? Why?" He smiled throwing his arm over my shoulder as we walked into the changing room where the rest of the guys were, thank god they were all descent.

"Based on the few things I've seen on them.. Like telling Hwasa to close her legs even though she was wearing pants, making colorist jokes about her as well, hitting TWICE's Jeongyeon too hard with the hammer thing.. You could see the tears in that poor girls eyes.. Calling jeonghan the girl of the group because he had long hair. Shall I go on or..."

"Okay okay I see why but its only an hour well get through this together. Besides you have me and Vernon to protect you."

"Hey Zuri." Vernon greeted harshly smacking his hyungs hand off my shoulder. I couldn't help but chuckle as I stood on my toes giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Ouch Hansol! You didn't have to hit me, you should tell Zuri she has nothing to worry about." Dk smiled walking away.

Vernon stepped infront of me putting his hand on my shoulders "what are you so nervous about?"

"You know doni and coni don't exactly have the cleanest rep.."

Vernon looked at you "Elaborate."

"Well, they've made colorist and sexist remarks and if you ask me they can be quite invasive... I mean what if they say something about my skin or they say something and one of us slips up-"

He interrupted your small worry rant.

"That's not gonna happen Zuri, promise."

Before you could respond someone poked their head in. "It's show time kids lets go!"

"You've got this babe, we've got this. Now lets go." He grabbed my hand quickly following the obnoxious boys, letting my hand go once on set.

I've got this...

_______________________

20min into interview

_______________________

"So Dk and Zuri seem quite close lately. Don't you think?"

Dk chuckled awkwardly while you slowly nodded your head glancing in Vernon's direction only to be greeted by a beam of jealousy. You gave a small smile, pushing your kinky hair behind your ear.

"Haha.. It nothing more than a platonic friendship, no strings attached.." Vernon snapped only adding the chuckle to lighten the mood.

Coni chuckled putting his hand on your knee, you moved away slightly scooting closer to Jihoon who in turn politely passed you on to Vernon. Dk cleared his throat.

"Oh~ Vernon's looking and sounding quite protective!" Doni teased

"Wow!" Both coni and doni instigated.

They continued to tease at the idea of Zuri and Vernon dating.

Eventually they pushed it too far when they asked Zuri and Dk a dance to a song where it was a bit touchy between the two dancers.

"I-i don't know about this..." Zuri stuttered quickly looking over to the boys for help. Specifically Vernon for help.

"Oh come one don't be lame you got this Zuri!" Coni shouted obnoxiously right into Seungcheol's ear.

"Im sorry I can't either.." Dk stepped away from the girl, looking to his friend Vernon for help.

"Why not?" Doni asked.

"She's dating Vernon.." It barely came out above a whisper.

The rest of the members looked at one another unsure of what to do next.

I closed my eyes hoping they didn't hear what he said, hoping he would play it off as a joke and luckily that's what he did.

"Haha! Dating what? That'd be crazy...." He trailed off and awkward sorry like smile played on his face.

"Haha.. Ya dating. That would be crazy.." Mingyu added on trying to help the situation they were put in once more looking at the boys for help to which they did.. Kinda..

"Pfft! Vernon and Zuri dating?! He hilarious!" Joshua blushed.

Zuri slowly made her way to vernon hiding behind him, though you couldn't see it she could feel it, she could feel she was blushing and hard.

"Its out there now... And there's nothing we can do about it...."

She wrapped her brown arms around his waist rubbing her face into his back while he held her arms close to his chest.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 26: Blindness

CW: Blinded whumpee - references to eye gore, dehumanization, creepy and sadistic whumper, noncon touching (nonsexual)

Set after The First That Will Live

Killan’s world and its details as always belong to @wildfaewhump. It’s Vic’s sandbox - they just let me build some fucked-up castles there.

“Been thinking, me,” Calon Nie said, tapping talons lightly on the stone ground. 

He watched the blindfolded human boy clumsily pawing with his pinkish pointless prodding little fingers at the feathers of one reddish-brown wing. 

It had come within a day or so - the boy had started, in this sad little human way, to try and groom himself, combing through his feathers with those blunt-tipped skin-covered fingers, straightening them obsessively. Even after he stopped being able to see them, Calon Nie would watch him spend hours trying to carefully straighten them back to the right placement.

Instinct, pure and simple - and Calon Nie enjoyed the sight of it, the proof that his theory on the sharing of blood and the connection of bone to back had been correct. Each piece of the boy he took away and replaced with something else seemed to impress more and more deeply into him a set of fae-born impulses he didn’t have on his own.

It wouldn’t be long before they would move on to the voice, and then the organs, and then… who knew? At some point, Calon Nie had begun to wonder how many parts of a weak, ineffectual little thing could be replaced before what he created was no longer the original human at all. 

Could you take out a brain and give a new one? These were the questions Calon Nie asked himself before he slept. 

It wasn’t clear at first if the boy heard him speaking - he kept combing at feathers, and Calon Nie let the silence draw out to listen to their soft rustling. The wing was majestic - the hand hardly worth having. He would fix that, when the boy’s body was ready.

He could fix everything in the boy that was not to his liking. He understood that, now, in a way he hadn’t before the wings connected, the magic settled and took root in him. Starsong wrapped itself around the human like a blanket, a pillow pressed over mouth and nose to smother the human in the boy and draw out the fae.

He would kill the humanity of the boy, burn it away, and beneath its ashes he would find the new thing underneath.

“Buachaill del.” The boy did not look up - not that he could, exactly, look at all. Bandages wrapped over his head from eyebrow to cheekbone, covering up the evidence of his failures. It was the pain of his useless failed eyes that led the boy to spend the hours grooming his wings, soothing himself, as blood soaked through the cloth.

He wept blood, now, and that was the most fascinating part of the eyes to Calon Nie.

 “Killan.” The boy flinched at the use of his human name, the name Calon Nie did not like. He bit the syllables, drew out the ah sound, made his disgust perfectly clear. “Listening? Listen to Calon Nie, you?”

The boy’s shoulders hunched up near his chin, head turning in Calon Nie’ direction, hitching in a breath in sudden fear. Calon Nie’s sharp teeth flashed in a smile the boy could not see in response. “I’m listening.” His voice was whispery-thin, nervous, uncertain. 

Calon Nie hummed to himself, tapping talons on the floor, watching the boy sit so still, as though stillness could protect him from the dangers of the world. “Good. Failed, you, to keep new eyes. Costs a life, to give something new. Killan Josta, human boy, he fail Calon Nie. He fail the life given, when eyes don’t work. Did not respect sacrifice.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” The boy said hoarsely, curling in on himself even more, his wings instinctively curling protectively around him. “I… I don’t want anyone to d-die for me. I didn’t mean to-... I didn’t mean to fail. I, I tried to p-pray for them, to stars, to-”

“Paugh! Mysteries do not hear you.” Calon Nie tilted his head to the side as he watched the boy’s wings bristle, feathers slightly fluffing out with nervousness and maybe even a little defensive anger. From the moment the connection had been made, the wings had been a part of him, mind and body, more rapidly than Calon Nie had ever dreamed.

A clear sign, for those who knew how to look for it. Favored by the stars, this boy, the starsong already slip-sliding around him even though he couldn’t use it. 

Not yet.

They would need a fae voice for that. Calon Nie already had someone in mind, someone who had dismissed his ideas. Someone who would live to see their progress before he allowed them to die and be part of his grand ambitions. 

“Anyway, no matter what mean. What intend. Already have died, for Killan. My kin and yours.” The mention of the humans that the boy had slaughtered brought fresh bright red blood to soak through the new bandages, and Calon Nie watched with fascination as the spots spread, as though he could see with his blood. Beautiful. “Too late for sorry. Have already killed your own, yes? Slit throat after throat, for Calon Nie? Your hand holds knife, yes?”

The boy choked back a sob. “Yes.”

Calon Nie knew the cruelty was unnecessary, but it was fascinating to watch how red blood rushed to pale cheeks, visible even in the dimness to Calon’s sharp fae eyes. Even more fascinating to see how his pretty human’s new wings already reflected his moods, built as deeply into the basic movements of his body now as the beat of his sad, tiny little heart, the movement of air in and out of his stupid nearly-pointless weak lungs.

Beautiful, wasn’t it? The way the spaces left behind by failure wanted to cry? The way that red wetness still soaked the cloth that Calon Nie had tied around his head to hide his failure from view? It was beautiful, to watch the damp spread slightly shining in the cave’s soft light to the boy’s jaw. The trails of red that ran and dripped to feed the earth.

There were still eyes under the blindfold, failed fae eyes that bled constantly and could not see, holding place until he could find another one of his own people to lead here. Another life given to the stars in the name of something new.

It was worth everything - every mistake, every death, every step closer. It was worth any cost, for Calon Nie to be something better than any other fae had ever been.

They would fly with the stars, but Calon Nie would direct the mystery of them himself. No one else could do that. No one else had ever tried.

But he would do it, no matter how many he must kill. Humans, paugh, they weren’t anything. But fae lives… that he took seriously, but still. It would be worth everything, in the end, and failures were to be expected. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t play with the boy’s fear, now and then for his own amusement. It didn’t mean he wasn’t confused, and troubled, and worried that this perfect subject was… perhaps not perfect enough. 

He wasn’t sure how the eyes had failed when the wings worked. It was a mystery, and Calon Nie loved mysteries but he did not like them when they meant that his failure cost fae lives with no gain in return. He’d flown the body back up to the mountains to place next to the one who had given her wings. They would rest together, he could give them that much, but Calon Nie did not like that this second had died for nothing.

Were they honored, still, to die for no reason?

Or was he simply murdering, then?

For the boy’s body to fail when it most needed not to, forcing Calon Nie to waste a gift of sight. It was… irritating. 

It made Calon Nie doubt himself.

Really, it was not the boy’s fault human bodies were so frail and weak, that they had to make sharp things to hurt with because they had no sharpness themselves. It wasn’t the boy’s fault that he was an imperfect recipient of Calon Nie’s discoveries.

The strongest, so far - but still not perfect.

“Hmph. I say no sorries.” Calon Nie waved his talons dismissively, ignoring that the boy could not see him do it. “Is Calon Nie’s fault, not my del, really, that eyes did not work. Missed something, me. Miss step, miss thought. Something… something missed.”

The boy was silent beyond the harsh loud sound of his breathing. He claimed the failed eyes hurt, a constant throbbing pain in his face, and Calon Nie allowed him to drink some teas that soothed it, but that was all. 

He needed to be pure, to ensure the eyes worked next time. To make sure that the next of his people he gave to the stars in search of his greatest dreams would not be a pointless murder, but something that a fae could be honored by.

Even if they did not know to be honored, until they were dead.

Calon Nie moved over to the boy, watching the way his chin lifted and his head tilted as he tried to hear Calon Nie’s careful quiet footsteps across the cave floor. Maybe he could be given new ears, too, somehow, someday. Rather than his silly half-deaf human hearing.

The brush of the backs of his talons made the boy flinch backwards, but Calon Nie tsked, clicking narrow tongue against sharp teeth, and the boy went still, trembling under his touch as he gently pushed the blindfold up to look underneath.

Pale, cloudy fae eyes looked sightlessly beyond him. They had bonded well enough, but something severed the connection that magic should have made, and they looked like they had been scratched and scarred over from the inside out. Pale yellow, with only the tiniest sliver of slit black pupil. 

Blood ran wet from the corners of the boy’s eyes, trickling down his face. 

He held still, though, without the force of a thralling, without the mysteries to hold him. 

“Pretty human,” Calon Nie whispered. He wrapped his hand carefully around the boy’s throat, staring into his blind eyes. The eyes that had been taken from a fae, the eyes that had been sacrificed, only to need sacrificed again. “Pretty, pretty. My pretty new thing. Mo ragnaithe. We will try again.”

“P-Please,” The boy whispered, sniffing, his little human nose scrunching up. “Please, I-I don’t want to be blind.”

“If try again, me - if give another life to making you better - and this next one dies and still, you fail… will die, you.” He leaned in, lips moving against the boy’s ear. “Will kill Killan myself, me. Understand this, you? That Killan dies?”

The boy nodded, frantically, sightless wide eyes filling with red tears.

He let go of the blindfold and it dropped to the ground. Calon Nie pulled back and away, watching the boy scramble to cover his pointless useless eyes again, whimpering and choking back sobs as he tied the cloth back on, knowing how Calon Nie hated to hear weak whimpering human sadness when he was being built to something of such glory.

The boy curled into the tiniest little ball he could make of himself, and Calon Nie watched as his shaking fingers went back to his wings, to straighten the feathers, to comb through them, to soothe himself with grooming. Obsessively straightening, running fingers through, soothing.

Bit by bit.

Moment by moment.

Piece by piece.

The next set of eyes would work, Calon Nie was sure of it.

They would work, or he would declare this one a failure, just like the rest, and dispose of him in the woods to rot alongside his other failed experiments. 

Then he would start again.

---

@quirkykayleetam ​​​ , @whumpallday ​​​ , @whumppsychology ​​​, @doveotions ​​​, @broken-horn , @moose-teeth ​​​, @whumpfigure    @whump-only ​​​, @just-strawberry-jam ​​​, @loopylunacy ​​​ @raigash @whump-tr0pes @slaintetowhump @astrobly​​​​​​ @burtlederp​​​​​​ ​, @finder-of-rings​​​​​​ ​

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2020 fic roundup

hiii! i was going to do this earlier but,, um,, i posted three fics in the final two hours of 2020 year (for me) so :D here is finally my fic roundup - in order from newest to oldest

i’ll be using the original summaries, wordcounts n ratings etc, some of the tags, link to the tumblr post and the ao3 link, and maybe add a note or two if i feel that’s not enough

this’ll be a long post so read below the cut 

(or go directly to my ao3 here especially in case you don’t want spoilers)

Fireworks up above

g, 341

NYE, established relationship, husbands, tooth-rotting fluff, kissing

Husbands Dan and Phil and their placeholder-apartment share a final NYE moment (aka 2020 NYE)

ao3 // tumblr

Quiet morning

g, 304

tooth-rotting fluff, lazy mornings, sleepy cuddles, established relationship, husbands, forever home

Dan wakes up in the forever home, Phil breathing softly next to him…

ao3 // tumblr

Shadows / nocturne / parting clouds

g, 2.7k

hurt/comfort, migraine, arguing, angst with a fluffy ending, established relationship, ii tour fic, alternating and outsider pov

Phil wakes up with a migraine, causing him to snap at Dan. Throughout the day, while visiting a city for the ii tour, Cornelia observes the tension, and eventually, the two of them console

ao3 // tumblr

A tub fit for two

t, 853

dnp, forever home, established relationship, husbands, fluff, bathing/washing, and more

there are certain perks that come with building your own (forever) house

ao3 // tumblr

Signals

m, 1.6k

texting, established relationship, food, domestic fluff, very light angst, sexual content

excerpts of dan and phil’s texts throughout the years

ao3 // tumblr

At the turn of a page

g, 1.2k

liveshow, 2020-ish, fluff, established relationship, forever home

Phil’s had his reasons for not continuing liveshows during lockdown, but they’re ready for a comeback—a domestic one, at that

ao3 // tumblr

Prickle on the skin, ache in the heart

t, 1.4k

2014, closeted relationship, bbc party, alcohol, vomiting, self confidence issues, jealousy, angst then fluff, happy ending

phil smiles wider, brighter. every day. every day, dan falls in love again. he can’t help but be a little jealous, not being able to say

ao3 // tumblr

It’s home

t, 2.2k

au ice-cream parlor, established relationship, pure fluff, slice of life

A day in the life of Dan and his smitten ice-cream vendor boyfriend Phil, living on the coast of Connemara, Ireland

ao3 // tumblr

Whisper of the heart

g, 976

established relationship, headaches & migraines, hurt/comfort, fluff, piano

Phil has a headache. Dan plays the piano and comforts him.

ao3 // tumblr

Slice of cake

e, 2.7k

established relationship, bday sex, 2016, face-sitting, rimming

Dan’s promised to celebrate Phil with nothing but the best this year.

Naturally, he buys himself a new skirt - but it’s not just to wear.

ao3 // tumblr

Supple thirty-two

this is a chaptered wip !! it’ll continue in 2021 (the update note is currently inaccurate)

-

3/32

t, 4k so far

slow burn, friends to lovers, love letters, secret admirer, fluff and angst, internalized homophobia, outing, coming out, queer themes, happy ending

A secret admirer sends flowers and letters to Dan over the years

ao3 // tumblr

Tenderhearted

g, 1k

2009, comfort/angst, sad but sweet, sleepy cuddles, separation anxiety

Phil doesn’t want Dan to go home. Dan agrees. Quite strongly, actually.

Feeling properly loved for the first time causes serious separation anxiety.

ao3 // tumblr

I’d marry you (with paper rings)

m, 4k

established relationship, fluff, domestic, proposal, sexual content

Maybe learning calligraphy was of greater importance to Phil, and them, than Dan first thought

ao3 // tumblr

Blue can be kind, too

this is my favourite fic of the ones i’ve written !! so far. it’s from the pov of kid dan so very tender and mostly very childish / undeveloped in the language, as if actually told from his brain (even though it’s third person)

-

g, 4k

kid!fic, dan and phil are kids, kindergarten, developing friendship, past violence and bullying, referenced homophobia, fluff and angst, sad and happy, happy ending

A tale of being scared, starting fresh, and making your first ever friends after experiencing violent bullying.

Or rather, four-year-old Dan’s first day at his new kindergarten.

ao3 // tumblr

Ablaze

e, 4k

established relationship, spanking, daddy kink, oral, aftercare

Phil’s trying to work; Dan’s being a brat. Things get heated, but not in a bad way.

ao3 // tumblr

The brightest shade of sun (I had ever seen)

g, 3.9k

friends to lovers, getting together, only one bed

one dawn on the isle of man can be enough to unite two craving hearts, even if a lot of heartbreaking thoughts are revealed along the way

ao3 // tumblr

Tracing constellations

t, 1.3k

established relationship, sleepy cuddles, fluff, banter, kissing

Two 6-foot men cuddling in a single armchair doesn’t sound like a good idea.

It isn’t, but dan and phil do almost anything for intimacy…

ao3 // tumblr

Between the seams

g, 999

established relationship, cuddling, fluff, fear, hurt/comfort

Bone-tired lovers meet thundering downpour, rediscovering the best way to confront fear in the meantime

ao3 // tumblr

Fjäll med stjärnor

this one is also a chaptered wip !! it’ll also be continuing in 2021, and probably beyond bcs it might be even longer than that

-

2/?

g, 9k so far

fantasy, magic, kinda historical fantasy, dan’s a dragon, and Phil’s human (at first), strangers to friends to lovers (eventually), fluff and angst, lots of descriptions

a human’s and a dragon’s paths crossing is unusual, but in this case it was in alignment with the stars and a decision as old as time itself  

ao3 // tumblr

It’s not a date?

chaptered wip to continue into 2021 too

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2/4

t, 4.6k so far

there’s only one bed, bodyswap, didn’t know they were dating, friends to lovers, getting together, idiots in love, tatinof

On one hand, it should all go flawlessly. When Phil goes on tour with his boyfriend of six years, Dan, he books them rooms with only one bed. He’s not deterred by their quiet and nonsexual (monogamous) lovelife. They do things ‘normal’ couples do, just maybe not as often or intimately. He supposes Dan’s just taking it slow, trying to come to terms with his sexuality and so on. It’s okay.

On the other… Dan doesn’t know they are dating. He has a longtime crush on Phil that he thinks is unrequited, despite their mutual rather romantic and domestic behavior.

ao3 // tumblr

Fur-ever

g, 3.5k

tooth-rotting fluff, dog owners/dads, dog wedding, established relationship, alternate universe - different first meeting, howells and lesters

Dog dads Dan and Phil marry their dogs, in preparation for their own big day

ao3 // tumblr

The maestro and his muse

chaptered but completed!

-

4/4

e, 5.5k

friends to lovers, mutual pining, body painting, teasing, sexual content

Phil is a professional artist. He’s always wanted to try body painting, and now he gets to, for a naked photoshoot. Unfortunately, his good friend, muse, and crush Dan Howell is his model of choice. What could go wrong?

ao3 // tumblr

Lightyear groovin’

t, 4.6k

star wars setting,  dj Phil, waiter Dan, mutual pining, friends to lovers

In a galaxy far, far away, there’s an abundance of 70s clubs. On Krithoo, local party freak Dan Howell works as a waiter at an often overcrowded cantina, Virgo Volans. And maybe, just maybe, he has an infatuation with the extraterrestrial dj frequenting their stage…

ao3 // tumblr

A theism in evolution

g, 5.9k

gods au, enemies to friends to lovers, getting together, fluff and angst, emotional h/c, written entirely in letters, 1st person pov

The sungod, Phil, sends letters to Mother Gaia. He puts all his worries into words… even when he himself can’t see right through them

ao3 // tumblr

Little comfort card

g, 932

separation anxiety, established relationship, business trip, vidcon, fluff and angst, homesickness, comfort, post-coming out videos

Phil goes to VidCon alone. Cue separation anxiety, something Dan seems to have accounted for..

"The whole room felt too airy, and lacked that simple, aesthetic Dan-touch. It wasn’t quite home, so to speak."

ao3

Your hoodies (come wrapped around me)

g, 869

york hoodie, clothes sharing, fluff, moving, house cleaning

Unpacking for their move into bigger quarters, Dan finds an ancient treasure in the back of their conjoined closet.

ao3 // tumblr

Awestruck

g, 996

barista dan, youtuber phil, fanboy dan, crushes, getting together, strangers to lovers

Dan might meet his best customer at the end of his worst day, and get a little more

ao3 // tumblr

Rainbow, proud

g, 513

post-coming out videos, established relationship, domestic boyfriends, fluff, shopping

Phil really wants the corgi shirt, but Dan thinks he has enough already

ao3 // tumblr

A prickly considerate gift

it’s the piranha plant bouquet !!

-

g, 1k

2014, established relationship, Valentines day fluff, gift giving, flowers and language of flowers, brief depression mention, domestic fluff, nerdiness

Phil finds a substitute for real Valentine’s day flowers

ao3 // tumblr

Cherish the smile

g, 783

husbands, honeymoon, established relationship, fluff

Phil wakes on the first morning of their honeymoon; a new day to cherish Dan’s gorgeous, excited, smile

ao3 // tumblr

“Seriously?”

t, 3k

strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers sort of, getting together, angst with a happy ending, co-workers, non-youtuber au, and lots of other tags lmao

Prompt: Dan and Phil meet while candle shopping and one of them can't help but comment on how obnoxious/boring/etc the scents the other one is picking out are the time Phil met a totally-not-handsome stranger and only sort-of wished they'd never meet again. Tough luck?

ao3

The lovers (VI)

chaptered, completed !

-

14/14

m, 31k

friends to lovers, magical realism au, lots of angst but also fluff, happy ending (more important tags on ao3)

Dan, guardian of the forest, feels inadequate to love and of love. His best friend Phil loves him despite that.. but doesn’t know quite what to do when Dan becomes a hypocrite- playing with both their feelings

ao3 // tumblr

Colour me rosé

another chaptered wip !! though this one may not be finished in 2021, because i have so much on my plate then - enjoy what’s here though !

-

9/?

m, 13k so far

sugar daddy Phil, sugar baby Dan, phil is rich, eventually domestic, strangers to lovers, developing relationship and friendship, sexual content, fluff, a little angst, and like a lot lot more tags

nineteen-year-old Dan Howell is looking for a sugar daddy to help him achieve the dream of luxury and romantic affirmations. Phil Lester, newly 24 and very rich, is searching for a romantic and sexual relationship. When stumbling upon the other on the internet, similar interests and all, have they found their match?

ao3 // tumblr

Archaic Allure (sonnet)

so as it turns out, writing a fic idea can really help you out with your grade (and yes, this is actually a sonnet)

-

g, 104

poetry, reminiscing, fluff, Dan’s pov

Dan reminisces his love for Phil - sonnet version

ao3 // tumblr

Something in your name

t, 3.2k

implied sexual content, fanfic about fanfic, emotional hurt/comfort, separation anxiety, established relationship; and more

phil reads a y/n fic ; guess who wrote it

ao3 // tumblr

Ellie enchanted

g, 986

fluff and angst, happy ending, parent!phan, new child, adoption, established relationship, self-doubt, implied homophobia 

Dan and Phil pick up their adopted child

ao3 // tumblr

Chocolate swirls

g, 3.3k

parent!phan, snapshots, bday surprises, baking, fluff and angst, cake

Dan tries to surprise Phil for his 33rd. He fails, as humans do, but ten years later he has luckily got two adorable little helpers at his side. And maybe that makes everything just a little better.

ao3 // tumblr

Dan or Da?

on ao3 this fic is just called Da, so beware of that

-

t, 9k

parent!phan, friends to lovers, pretend relationship (not what you think), misunderstanding, getting together, implied sexual content, marriage, canon divergence, pov alternating

One day can change your life forever. For Phil, his daughter Mel, and Dan, who’d have guessed that day would be one when all they’ve planned is doing ordinary shopping together.

ao3 // tumblr

and that’s it!! thank you for reading this sweetums, and be sure to check out any of the fics