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bluecatwriter · 9 months

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A Blood of My Blood fic from Mina's point of view, taking place when Quincey is 11 or 12. (Domestic angst/fluff, pretty bittersweet.) Thanks as always to @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush for creating this sandbox for us to play in!

~~~

At one time, the broth she was making would have smelled wonderful to her.

It was odd, to be able to think such things. When she had first awoken, years ago, snarling and disoriented and in the grip of someone— someone who had turned out to be her husband— she had no memory of Before. It had taken years for these memories of a different life, a different self, to return. She didn't particularly strive for them, since there was no sense in dwelling on her past, but sometimes they cropped up at odd moments. She had just dropped into the broth a handful of parsley and lovage, both from the herb garden her husband had grown in the courtyard of the castle, and something about the fragrant waft of steam gave her a memory. Yellow sunlight on a wall, humming some long-forgotten tune. Warmth. Memories of Before were always warm.

She had no desire to eat what she was cooking, though— the very thought turned her stomach. Usually her husband cooked for himself, but today he could not, and so she had found a recipe and made it step by painstaking step: slaughtering and plucking the chicken, boiling it once for the meat and a second time for the broth, adding paprika and cayenne and a pinch of precious dried lemon peel, brought by the serfs on their last delivery. Like all tasks, she went about it methodically. It was only a few days after the winter solstice, so the night was long and she had plenty of time to work.

She felt her son's presence before she saw him, and smiled as he popped his head in the window, upside down. He had been crawling lizard-fashion on the castle walls again. "Hello, Mum!" he said cheerfully.

She loved that her son had inherited her husband's ability to change and grow. His face was losing the chubby roundness of childhood, and he was growing lankier, though still just as skillful at skittering around the castle walls.

Where have you been all evening? she asked as she stirred the broth, projecting her thoughts to him.

"Sitting with Papa and reading to him," her son said, crawling into the window and hopping up on the stone counter. His expression faltered, his red eyes growing wide with worry. "He's… he's going to be all right, isn't he?"

Of course he is. My broth will cure him. She winked at him, and he laughed.

"I wish Papa didn't get sick! Why can't he be like us? It would be so much easier…"

She gave him a look, and he sighed. "I know, I know, if he was like us, we couldn't kiss him, and he likes kisses too much to change."

It was a silly explanation, left over from her son's early days when he was just starting to question why Papa was different. But she felt a strange reluctance to update the explanation.

She stirred the broth once more and decided that it would need to simmer now. Go back to your papa— he'll be lonely without you.

"All right, Mum." Her son left by the door this time, no doubt to grab a new book from the library on his way up to the room.

She walked to the window, looked out, and let her mind go blank.

It was easy to do, to think nothing at all, while staring at the midnight draped over the world. She could still touch her son's mind, feel vague emotions from him, as well as feel her husband's suffering as he tossed and turned on his bed, his fever burning him up.

Most of all, though, crackling like fire over everything else, was the mind of her lord.

She was not allowed to enter his thoughts— she had tried, once, early on, and he had chained her to a wall for three weeks as punishment, keeping her from her husband and her son until the ache of wanting them made her tear her flesh down to the bone trying to break free. She could not overpower him. She could not enter his thoughts without him noticing.

But here in the blankness, the fire of his mind seemed less harsh, and she tried out small thoughts, inconsequential thoughts, seeing if he would notice them. Seeing if he could truly rummage through everything in her mind, or if anything was hers to keep.

Of course, her lord considered nothing to be hers, and he made sure she was reminded at every turn. When they dined together on her husband, her lord made sure to eat first, to make her follow, to assure that she made no mark on him that he had not already made. And yet, she found a smug satisfaction in this, that her lord never left a mark that she did not erase with her own touch. Her husband would be still and dutiful at their lord's bite, but he melted against her own. Her lord has ultimate authority over them both, but her husband was still hers.

At last the broth was ready, and she focused her mind, imagined knocking on a door in the wall of flames. May I visit him? It was a formality at this point— her lord had not kept them apart in over three years now— but she knew that not doing it would have consequences.

The reply sounded almost bored. You may.

She dipped some broth into a large bowl and left the rest simmering on the hot stove. She walked up the endless stairways to the tower where he lived, knowing that she must not waste her energy on things like turning into mist, not when she must fast from the nourishment he gave her.

At last she came to his door and opened it. There was no lock on it, for her husband belonged in some way to everyone in the household. No one was barred access.

Her son was sitting beside him reading aloud, but closed the book when she entered. Her husband turned his head weakly, and she felt a ripple of frustration at the frailness of his body, the way that it was endangering him needlessly. She ordered her son to leave them alone, and he nodded, taking his father's wrist and giving it a bloodless bite to show affection before walking out.

She walked to his bedside and sat beside him, sliding an arm under him to pull him up. He shivered and had a hard time drinking the broth, but she made him take it, sip by sip. He sagged against her, and she stroked his forehead.

"My darling," he said, stuttering a bit with his shivers. "I think I'm dying."

If you must die, you must. It would happen eventually— he would rise again like them, without this pathetic body to drag him down.

"I— I don't want to. I want to raise our boy to manhood without…" He trailed off, but she knew his meaning.

We will be together. That is all that matters.

Her husband stared at her, and tried to smile. "You're right, you're right."

She hesitated, then situated them on the bed so that his head was resting on her lap, and she stroked her fingers through his hair. If it brings you comfort, you may close your eyes and pretend that I am a mortal woman. Pretend it is Before, and all the After has been a dream.

Her husband gulped. It had been a long time since she had soothed him this way. "I… I shouldn't…"

She frowned at him. Do not refuse me.

A faint smile of acceptance crossed his face, and he rested more deeply on her lap.

When you wake, she told him, weaving her fingers into the fine strands of his hair, you will either be well, or you will be like me. And either way, we will be together.

Her husband squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling down his fever-flushed face. "Will… will you say my name as you stroke my hair?"

She smiled down at him indulgently. Jonathan.

"Mina…"

My Jonathan… The urge to sink her teeth into him, to express her love in lapping up his essence, was strong, but she was stronger. She petted his hair and spoke his name in her thoughts, playacting the doting human wife who had no loyalty to any but him.

Her husband seemed to be drifting to sleep, but then murmured, "It's Christmas, you know."

Her hand paused, the word from Before stinging her, but then she continued stroking his hair.

His eyes closed, tears still drying on his face, her husband began to sing softly. "What child is this/who laid to rest/on Mary's lap is sleeping?/Whom angels keep/with anthems sweet/while shepherds watch are keeping?"

She grew still; the words, cracked and almost silent, sent a shiver through her. She remembered candlelight, and the smell of incense, and a figurine of a baby in straw. The mark on her forehead tingled.

Her husband was asleep now, and she held him, staring through the window at the night sky dotted with stars.

~~~

#blood of my blood #jonmina #my writing #mina harker #jonathan harker #quincey harker #dracula (novel)

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crushribbons · 1 month

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𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖, 𝕔𝕙. 𝟚

summary: Bobby Moch makes for one passive-aggressive roommate. (pt. 2/?) (part one)

cw: 3k words, modern college au, roommate!bobby, general fluff, confusing and increasingly blurred relationship dynamics, very light angst, big flame by doris wilson is regrettably so bobby that i had to write about it, fem reader/OC. this is a work of fiction about the character portrayed in tbitb and not affiliated at all with the actual historical figure (like duh?) requests

a/n: this is a shorter chap and a lot of dialogue so thank you in advance 4 putting up w me xx laney

8-track for the series: 1・2・3・4・5・6・7・8

She held out another short-sleeved button-down shirt at arm’s length and wrinkled her nose. “Here, you’ll love this one. It looks the same as the last twelve you’ve tried on.” Bobby’s hand reached around the thick velvet privacy curtain of his dressing room and scrunched his fingers in impatience.

“Gimme,” he said, and she pushed the purple monstrosity into his outstretched palm.

“I’m starting to remember why I only go shopping with you once a year,” she called to him as she leaned against the wall next to his cubicle and stared at the ceiling. The store’s harsh spotlighting was starting to cause an irritating throb in her temple. Maybe not just the lighting.

Bobby was a chronic clothing over-shopper who had to have his credit card taken away and frozen too many times to remember. She still recalled the unholy hellfire that had rained down on her when she revealed to him that she’d frozen it the same day the local mall was supposed to run a massive sale.

“You don’t need any more workout clothes! You sit at the front of the boat and yell, that’s it!”

“Melt it out of there right now, or so help me God, I will take YOUR card with me, and you do not want me to do that.” He usually won the card away from her with little argument after the threats started rolling out. And the only other way to corral his spending was to accompany him on his frenetic fits of financial irresponsibility and wrestle things away from him herself.

When he had woken her from her peaceful Saturday afternoon nap to announce that he needed a new shirt “because I want one”, she’d groaned and covered her eyes but ultimately found herself trailing behind him as he trotted from store to store and held up anything he needed her opinion on.

It was a beautiful day at the open-air mall, and as she leaned her head backwards and waited for Bobby to change for the umpteenth time, she realized she was enjoying herself. Unprecedented. It had been happening more and more lately; having Bobby flit around at her ankles wasn’t grating on her nerves the way it usually did. She pulled out her phone while Bobby vocalized the bassline of a Temptations song from inside the cubicle and opened a new note. Research early signs of dementia. The swish, swish of Bobby turning on his ankles to vogue in the mirror made the corners of her mouth turn up without her consent.

“I like this one.”

“Then get it.”

“But there was another–”

“Robert.” He stuck his head back out of the curtain and gave a sunshiney, if slightly shit-eating, grin.

“I can tell when I’m pushing my luck. I’ll get this one.”

Bobby bounced lightly on the balls of his feet while the cashier rang up his record-low shopping haul of two shirts and a pair of swim trunks. He turned to his roommate, who was preoccupied with scrolling through pages of WebMD-sanctioned proof that she was losing her mind by enjoying his company. “Thanks for coming shopping with me,” he said.

“Someone has to keep you in line,” she responded without looking up from her phone.

“And there’s no one I’d rather have more!” He reached out to tweak her nose but she intercepted his hand mid-reach, still not bothering to glance at him, and squeezed his fingers backwards in a death grip. “Ow, ow, ow,” he said cheerfully, and without thinking, she pulled his hand to her lips and pecked three light kisses on the crushed fingertips, a remedy she had picked up from the man himself. She wasn’t sure if it was a holdover habit from his childhood that someone had used to soothe him or if doing things in threes was just another one of his compulsions, but the act had made its way into her rolodex of ways to calm him down.

“All better,” she murmured, her brow furrowing while the medical advice site recommended cryotherapy and the cashier handed Bobby a large shopping bag with his purchases and receipt. The woman’s severely slicked bun made the smile she gave them look tense.

“You two are a very sweet couple,” she told them. “Have a great rest of your day, and thank you for shopping with us.”

Bobby’s face split into a smile that reached each of his ears. Next to him, his presumed-girlfriend’s face was melting into a mixture of mortification and outrage. “Oh no, we’re not–!” She wasn’t sure why alarm bells were blaring in her head, but she couldn’t even hear what Bobby gushed to the cashier as she yanked him by the forearm out of the store.

“Sweetheart, that was rude,” Bobby deadpanned, letting himself be pulled along behind her. God, that idiotic grin was back and she wanted to peel it off his face like a sticker. It was so typical of him to delight in the fact that she was single and to rub it in her face. Any time someone even implied that they were dating, he would break into a giddy giggle as if the idea of her being able to sustain a relationship was impossible.

And when he had realized that Shorty would not be a permanent fixture in her life, as with all the other people she brought home, he had been borderline insufferable. Their dinner from the evening following Shorty’s overnight stay was still being stewed over in her mind.

“Mm. Good soup.” Bobby made a ring with his thumb and forefinger, the rest of his fingers splayed out, to emphasize how delicious the pad thai in front of him was. She snorted and nodded, dipping back into her plate of noodles. “So,” he began. He dabbed his lips with an affected little sniff. “Post-sexual encounter debrief time.”

“Ew, no.” His eyes narrowed, and she started sputtering as if she owed him an explanation. “No! That is not a thing we do; when has that ever been a thing we do?!”

Bobby scoffed, “When the person you encounterrr—” (he stretched the last syllable out while lifting a noodle of the same length to his mouth) “—happens to be a dear, dear friend of mine.” It was her turn to scoff.

“A friend whom you accused only last night of being illiterate.” She put her finger to her chin and pretended to be sussing out one of the great mysteries of the universe while Bobby ground his jaw. She knew she should stop, and that this rehashing would only reopen the wound that this dinner was supposed to heal. This dinner, and the cute note he’d left for her that morning, which, for some reason, was now stuck to the lamp on her nightstand. The note that had contained a few scratched out words that she still couldn’t make out.

He was starting to get irritated again. The jumpiness always started under his skin and worked its way out to his fingertips, which started drumming the table right on cue. Silence fell between them while they studied their noodles. Her shoes were sticking to the tacky floors of the restaurant, and “Big Flame” by Doris Wilson was playing over a tinny speaker perched in one corner. She almost dropped the whole thing to tell Bobby how much the song reminded her of him.

She could keep pretending to be annoyed with Bobby’s behavior, she reasoned, or she could start wondering why exactly he was this upset over her hooking up with his friend.

Speaking of. “I guess I was really surprised you decided to…on the first date,” Bobby said, slowly. “I didn’t think you’d go that fast.”

“Are there official rules and regulations I should be following?”

“For when to sleep with someone? Um, yes, my dear, they are found in a little socially and culturally significant piece of media I like to call Sex and the City.” She choked on the sip of water she was taking and began laughing hard. Leave it to Bobby to ruin her determination to be pissed at him by being himself.

While they were still laughing, Bobby motioned to his left cheek. “You’ve got…” He wrinkled his nose. “Somethin’.” She touched her face, swore, and began looking around for a napkin, but he beat her to it. Before she could stop him, Bobby leaned across the table, took her face in his hand and dabbed at the smear of peanut sauce on her cheek with the napkin in his other hand. “Hang on, jeez.” She was frozen in place, somehow annoyed at the intimacy of the act and somehow enjoying it at the same time. He was concentrating on her face, his tongue poking out between his lips while he scrubbed at the stubborn stain. When his brow furrowed, his lips tended to form a comical pout. They were pink, even in the restaurant’s grey-green fluorescent lighting, really pink. Soft-looking, too.

She panicked and said the only words that had been pre-written by her brain in an awkward monotone: “This song reminds me of you.” Bobby stopped what he was doing and looked up at the ceiling, presumably to hear the song better. When he clocked it, he broke into a smile that made the parts of her face he was still holding onto heat up a little.

“Why’s that?” he asked, like the answer would get him “A”s in all his classes for the rest of the year. She shrugged. Very pink lips. And a cute nose, damn it.

Then Bobby pulled the napkin to his mouth without relinquishing her face and spat on it, a huge glob of saliva falling from his mouth, and raised it back to her face. She squealed and pushed him away so he rocked backwards into his seat and asked “What?!”

“Nasty,” she scowled. Chastising herself for…whatever that behavior had just been, she licked her own fingers and wiped away the rest of the food on her face. “Oh, but it’s fine when you do it,” Bobby said, rolling his eyes. The food on their plates had dwindled to a few scraps, and he craned his neck around until he made eye contact with their waiter. “May we have the check, please!” he called very politely, but still so loudly that it made her want to cover her face.

The waiter hurried over and asked, “Two checks, or–?” Bobby held up one finger.

“One, please, sir. I owe this young lady a meal.” When they were alone again, Bobby sobered suddenly and said, “I really am sorry, you know. For what I said last night. I think…” He reached for his water glass and took an enormous gulp. “I think you guys will make a really sweet pair. You’re great for each other!”

Bobby Moch, I’ve never heard you tell such a bald-faced lie, she thought. “Well, thank you, but even though Carrie Bradshaw has sanctioned our one-night stand, I think that’s all it’s going to be. We’re just gonna be friends.” Bobby looked far too happy at this news, so she added, “Probably still gonna hook up with him, though.”

Glee, that was the only word for the expression on his face as he absently tossed his credit card at the returning waiter. As the waiter walked back to the kitchen, Bobby clasped his fingers under his chin and leaned on them, pure delight strobing off him. “Sad to hear it.”

“Clearly,” she growled. It hurt, more than she had realized, that Bobby enjoyed her romantic failures as much as he did. He practically celebrated every time she fucked up her love life by forgetting a first date or putting her foot in her mouth while flirting. And there was nothing he loved more than when they were mistaken for a couple in public and he could lord the fact that he was the only man she ever spent any time with over her for a good few days. In the interest of not exposing anymore of her vulnerability, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair.

“No, really!” But he was fighting through laughter that made her stomach sink in humiliation. She tried to look away. Bobby’s laughter was a special breed of contagious. It had been known to rip through entire lecture halls in mere seconds if he found something really hilarious. No matter how angry or sad she was, if Bobby found something that tickled him, she inevitably found herself laughing along. “Shorty’s so–mm, he’s just so yummy!” He was almost in hysterics at this point, and although it was the last thing on Earth that she wanted to be doing, she felt her shoulders start to shake a little, as well. Then a smile was fighting the frown of her face. Before she knew it, Bobby was saying, “Think about all those yummy babies you’re missing out on!” and they were both doubled over the table, heedless to the tables next to them that were giving pointed and exasperated looks.

She wiped a tear from under her eye. “He is yummy, you bitch. And very smart, for the record.”

“I know, I know,” he said, and waved a hand at her dismissively. “I just have to keep you humble.”

“Oh, do you?” An eye roll was locked and loaded, but he had to go and interrupt it by saying, “Oh, yeah. If you ever figure out how pretty you are, I would never get to spend any time with you.”

To say that this memory came back to her wasn’t quite accurate; she was fairly certain it hadn’t left her head since he’d said it, but she spent so much time trying to expel it that she thought she might be going insane. It had kept her up for two weeks now. They had left the restaurant and returned home as if he hadn’t even said it. If you ever figure out how pretty you are… She released her vice grip on Bobby’s arm and turned on him.

“Why do you do that?” she cried. Her voice came out weaker and more wounded than she’d intended. She realized that they were standing in the middle of the street outside the store and pulled Bobby and his shopping bags back up onto the deserted sidewalk. The look of unrestrained joy had melted off his face and been replaced by sheer confusion. His lips were doing the pout-y thing again. Idiot.

“Do what?!” he demanded.

“Make fun of me because I never have a boyfriend.” It sounded dumb now, a very high school complaint for a college student to be making. “You always laugh and make jokes whenever I break up with someone or suck at talking to them, and you always rub it in my face when we get mistaken for a couple.” She sniffed and discovered that she was crying. It wasn’t much, just a few tears streaming down her cheeks and settling, salty, on her mouth. She decided not to be embarrassed by them, and to not let him make her feel embarrassed.

Bobby was aghast. “You think I’m…making fun of you?” She made a guttural noise in the back of her throat.

“I know you’re making fun of me, Bobby. You get so happy that people think we’re together, because of course you’re the only guy I could possibly sustain a relationship wi–”

“You are so stupid.”

She had gotten all revved up, and he’d gone and ruined it again. “What the hell did you just say?” Bobby was staring at her like she’d just insisted that nine plus ten equals twenty-one. His thick brows were drawn together.

“You can’t think of any reason, other than some horrible and malicious intent, that I might be happy someone thought we were dating? Like, oh, I don’t know, flattery, maybe? That someone thinks I could land a girl like you?”

No less than thirty cars had whipped past them on the busy street they stood in front of before she could form thoughts again. Oh, he isn’t making fun of me. He just likes people thinking I’m his girlfriend. Alright.

Alright. That’s fine. “Don’t call me stupid,” she muttered stupidly. Then he was hugging her, and it was warm and really nice and his arms fit into the contours of her body like they were made for it.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her hair, “that it seemed like I was making fun of you. I think I might be passive aggressive even when I’m not angry.”

“Passive regressive,” she replied, still completely dumbfounded but refusing to let Bobby Moch have the last word. “You child.” He smelled like the cologne she’d bought him for his birthday, plus a little bit of the cupcake store they’d been in prior to the clothing one.

“Ah, see, you’re fine,” and Bobby released her to smack her gently on the forehead and wipe the tear tracks away from her cheeks with both his thumbs. They started walking back in the direction that they’d come from, weaving in and out of stores and window-shopping to Bobby’s heart’s content. As was starting to become a pattern, she noted, they didn’t talk about what he’d said. And really, when she considered each word carefully, all he’d meant was that it was nice to be mistaken as anyone’s boyfriend. He didn’t have much time for dating either, between crew practice and his pre-law course load. That’s what he’d meant.

And calling her pretty? He had obviously just been trying to win her over after laughing at her. The flattery seemed transparent in retrospect. Now that she considered it all in conjunction, the conclusions were so undeniable, she couldn’t believe that she’d been losing sleep over it all.

That night, while she layed in bed, ready for a night free from overthinking, she admitted to herself that she wanted to kiss Bobby. She rolled over, grabbed her phone off the nightstand, and texted Shorty.

masterlist

#god they need to work it out on the remix #BEACH DAY CHAPTER COMING NEXT EVERYONE SAY BEACH CHAPTER #tbitb fic #tbitb x reader #bobby moch x reader #bobby moch fic #bobby moch x oc #tbitb #laneywrites

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thewatercolours · 9 months

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King's Quest Ficlet: "Having a Blast"

“Are you sure you don’t want to stop into that bakehouse, Graham?” Cedric hooted, tangling and untangling his talons in the king’s greying beard absently. He took an enormous sniff (somehow,) and Graham couldn’t help breathing in with him. The air wafted with spices – nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves – all riding on a hot, fruity smell that even the running river couldn’t carry away. “I’ve heard their pies are second to none, and only a silver coin each!”

In spite of the wonderful smells, Graham tried to round on the spectacled owl. Easier said than done to a creature sitting on his shoulder. “Are you crazy?” he barked. “We haven’t got a second to lose! There’s no telling where that scum of a sorcerer’s apprentice might have taken my family. Or what he could be doing to them right this moment.”

“Ooooh, that’s so. That’s so,” said Cedric mournfully, only to perk up a moment later. “But it would only take a moment. The pies are readymade. If I waited out here for you, it would only –“

Graham brushed him off, literally, so that the owl had to flap his wings to keep up. “No. How could I hold my head up when I face my wife and kids if I dilly-dallied while they were… well, let’s not dwell on that. Besides, I’m too spoiled to enjoy them, after Wente’s pies. And I’ve only got shiny gold coins, so I’d have to find a money changer, and that would take time too.”

Somehow, Cedric managed a shrug. “Ooooh, there’s a money changer in the town, and you’re heading that way anyhow, so -”

“That’s –“

What Graham’s rebuke might have been is anyone’s guess, for his words were drowned out a blasting wall of sound that nearly threw Graham off his footing. He clapped his hands over his ears, falling to one knee, gritting his teeth and squinting his eyes. He was uncomfortably aware of his eardrums – he hoped the pain was all in his mind, and that nothing had ruptured! And still the unbearable blare went on. Was it… supposed to be… music?

“WHAT’S THAT?” he shouted, only hoping that Cedric could hear him above it all. If the bird replied, he was entirely drowned out.

Graham looked about wildly for the source of the deafening sound. But all that lay before him was the town, which looked much like any town, with its water mill, red shingled roofs, and quaint chimney pots. A few townsfolk came and went up and down the main thoroughfare that led into the town’s midst. They smiled cheerfully, and someone even waved. They seemed completely untroubled by the assault of sound.

The king bunched his cape up around his ears. “Maybe I do need to track down that money changer, so I can buy some earmuffs,” he murmured to himself. “Or, you know what? That desert looked promising. I bet you anything I could find something useful in that desert. Yeah. Definitely way, way more pressing than going to town just now. Yep.”

And he turned on his heel, and was off.

#If you know you know.#Sorry folks #this isn't as much a ficlet as it is a silly joke.#Just - why KQ5? Why?#king's quest #king graham #my writing

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 2 years

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OKAY BABE HERE ARE SOME UNHINGED ASKS. Starling. Tell me about it. Is there a scene that shines like the starling's wing?

THIS FIC IS MY BABY. this is my "Steph goes through some stuff and takes on a new mantle outside of anyone else's legacy including her own" fic. this is my darling (hah — starling? darling? hehe) my beloved it touches on Steph's relationships with every other member of the fam and one of my favorite things is Steph and Damian, so —

Steph didn't do sleepovers much as a kid. Most of her school friends lived in the same poor area she did and they often had shitty family situations and so- sleepovers, or getting together at people's homes, wasn't really a thing. The few times Stephanie had spent the night at someone else's place, though, she found that she was usually the first person awake.

She's not a tremendous night owl, is the thing — oh, she handles nightlife just fine, working through the night as Spoiler-Robin-Batgirl, but in her own free time? She prefers getting up early to staying up late, the opposite of both Tim and Cass. So even when she stays up late into the night, like last night sleeping over with Cass, she tends to get up early.

Which is why she's now alone in the kitchen at the Manor, hunting around for something to snack on while she tries to define herself in a visual way — aka, Pinterest boarding for new costume and/or identity ideas. Her dad is dead, so Spoiler is a thing of the past. Robin was... never meant to last, not for her. And the Batgirl mantle has never sat right on her shoulders. It's a question of what she wants to convey, visually speaking, as much as it is a question of who she is. She pulls a box of trail mix bars from a cabinet and picks through to find a yogurt-dipped one before retreating to a sitting room at the outside edge of the house.

There's sunlight here, streaming in brightly through the tall filigreed windows onto plush velvet seating and soft cream colored carpet that her feet sink into almost like sand. Steph sits down in one of the chairs and pulls the tablet from underneath her arm, tapping in her security code before pausing to open her granola bar. She loses herself in the unusually mindful scroll for a while, idly enjoying the quiet stillness of the huge house before anyone else is up. If mornings here are like this, she thinks she might need to stay over more.

She lifts her head from the thumbnails of violet fabrics and combat boots to stare out one of the windows. It looks out on the garden, filled with light and growth. This room must not be used as much as others, because there's a thin layer of constantly-moving dust in the air, shimmering in the clear beams of morning light.

There's a sound of movement at the entrance to the room and Steph jolts from her reverie to see Damian standing there, arms crossed over a Nightwing-themed t-shirt and cardigan she's pretty sure was stolen from Tim's closet. "'Morning, little bat," she greets cheerfully. Usually, Dami moves silently, even on the creakiest of floors; he must either have meant to alert her to his presence, or else is far more at ease than normal.

"I didn't realize anyone else was awake yet," Damian says, confirming the latter of Steph's suspicions. "Good morning, Stephanie." He looks quizzically at her, then at the tablet in her lap. "What are you working on?"

Steph gestures him over. "Trying to figure out where I'm going next. I can't go back to Batgirl," she says. "I need to try something new." A fresh start, she thinks, and if anyone can understand that, it's Damian. It shows on his face, too, the childish enthusiasm he so rarely shows lighting up in his eyes as he glances over her screen, scattered ideas and plans laid out across it.

"Yes, I knew you were exploring new options in your vigilante career," he says, then fixes her with an intense, almost excited look that makes her want a camera, because Damian looks his age and she thinks it's precious. "Do you know European starlings?" He asks.

"Can't say I know any personally, no," Steph says, probably too deadpan considering that Damian is an animal-loving little nerd who might actually have made friends with the birds in question. "But yeah, the crazy little guys that fly in huge flocks. They're everywhere."

Damian nods, ignoring her joke. He reaches for her tablet, pauses to look to her for permission. "Be my guest," she says, scooting over in the huge chair. "Come on, plenty of space. Your artistic eye might help," she adds, watching him quietly preen as he moves to sit beside her.

Dami taps at the search bar on the screen, pulling up a series of pictures showing small birds that look like they've been painted by someone practicing their pointillism. "European starlings are known for flying in murmurations," he explains, "But even on their own they're quite striking." He turns the screen toward her, zooms in on the picture of a bird, seemingly-gold-tipped feathers fluffed out to show a film of shimmering jewel tone colors lighting up the black plumage. It looks, primarily, purple, with holographic blues and greens swirled in.

Steph stares at the picture, then at Damian. "That's a real bird," she says doubtfully. "Not computer generated or retouched?"

Damian nods sagely. "Look," he says, scrolling past countless more pictures of birds with the same color scheme, understated-yet-bright jewel tones, tipped with lighter spots at the edges. Steph can feel her face lighting up as she considers the possibilities of shimmering through the night.

"Dami," she says, grinning, "You might be a genius."

"Well, of course," he says haughtily in reply, but falters. "I could... draft some suit designs, if you like," he offers, a touch tentative.

Steph ruffles his hair. "I would love that."

#the more i write batfam the more i end up sprinkling a few swear words into my fics #bc like... it just Makes Sense for some characters yknow???#aaand then there's tim who iirc canonically kneecaps himself wrt curse words and i find that hilarious also #anyway. steph and dami best sister-brother dynamic mayhaps. I'm so soft about them #they're SWEETIES #Lu writes #batfam #starling

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saythemagicword · 1 year

Text

PIERCING THROUGH THE SHADOW OF FAITH

Part 11

"A pizza delivery?" I asked my husband who seems to be unbothered about the doorbell ringing a few minutes ago. "My dear, it's currently 2:30am. What are you doing?" I added. There I was, left unanswered as if I was talking to the wind. Before my suddenly-became-deaf husband could close the door after receiving the box of pizza, I was stumped by what the delivery guy said.

"Mrs. Luna, enjoy! I hope you'll have good night sleep!" he cheerfully said before leaving. Dominique then thanked the delivery guy and closed the door. A confused look etched on my face. I was not shocked about the fact that he knew who I was; I was not shocked that he called me Mrs. Luna. What baffled me is what he meant when he said I should enjoy.

"What was that all about?" I asked Dominique, again, hoping that this time, I would get an answer. "Finally, it's here. I've been waiting for this for the past two hours." he muttered, still acting as if he never heard all my questions. "Avijandro Dominique Luna, answer my question! What are these for? It's past 2 in the morning. Your daughter is sleeping and we're about to go to bed. What is this all about?" I ran out of patience, he keeps pretending he doesn't hear me. "H-huh?" he stutteringly responded. That's his weakness: his full name being called by me. I am his weakness. "Dominique Luna, answer my ques—" "I love you." he uttered passionately and kissed my left cheek.

What? He said that? He knows how to say that? Knowing Dominique, he would show how much he love me in every way possible except saying "I love you." The times he uttered those words can be counted on my fingers. My goodness, this guy. I was supposed to be mad at him. I hate this(of course I don't), he really knows my soft spot. "Y-you think saying that and kissing me would make me forget I'm mad?" I defended, my pride won't let him win over me. "It's for you, darling. I had this made specially for you." said my weakness: him.

"You and that flowery mouth of yours...I hate it.." I don't know what to say. I was dumbfounded by what he did. "Why? My dear, did I say something wrong?" he asked sincerely. His confused face say it all. "Those pulchritudinous words, I hate them. It makes me lose my sane."

He then smirked, trying to hold back the euphoria. But he didn't succeed; a downward smile formed across his lips as he open the box of pizza. "Oh, my dear Diana. Diana, Diana, Diana. Be careful of what comes out of that mouth of yours... or else Quiana might get a sibling a little sooner." he teased. Was he being serious? I hope not.

"You serious about that? Really? After what happened to me when I birthed your daughter? I nearly died, and you have the guts to tell me that?" I argued. I know he's just pulling my leg, but still... I have to say something. I told you my pride won't let him win.

"C'mon, why don't we take a seat?" he insisted while his right hand was pointed on the left side of the soft couch, signaling that I should sit beside him. He just ignored what I said, as always. "Here, have a bite." He offered me the first slice of pizza. It tasted so good; Pepperoni Pizza, my favorite.

We gobbled up all the pizza except the 8th and last slice; Dominique told me he's saving it as it's the best part. "Now baby, you can have that." referring to the slice of pizza. I was about to pick it up but Dominique warned me to not eat it. "Why can't I?" I threw a question because who's in the right mind to offer someone the last slice of pizza and warn them not to eat it? "You'll know why once you get to touch it." After picking up the pizza, I understood my husband right away. I now know why he doesn't want me to eat it. Something bumpy was under it.

"Why is there a folded paper under it?" I asked. I found a folded brown paper soaking in grease. "Open it." he said. A letter was printed on it. What was said in the letter made me shed tears. It goes exactly like this:

"My dearest Diana, how are you? I know it's dumb to ask you this question because we're already with each other. But I still wanted to make sure you are doing really fine. How does it feel to be a first-time mom? I know it's tough but you can still manage to feed our baby, clothe her, clean her, put her to sleep, prepare food for the both of us, and make sure everything is going well. You always check on me even when I'm at work, even when there's already someone who needs you more than I do.

Does this letter takes you back somewhere? I hope it does. Remember when we first met after college? Your first day at work? I know you hate even my slightest presence, but the moment I saw you enter the office, I knew we're destined to be with each other. Ever since I saw you open that door, I started looking forward to see it swung open every morning hoping that it was you entering. Starting from that moment, I wrote letters for you everyday. Back then, the contents of my letter were all about why you should stop loathing me and how much I adore you; it was all about only you. But now, a precious little being is included. It was our dream. Now, it's happening.

Thank you for being a loving wife and a mighty momma. Quina and I are so lucky to have you in our lives. I love you so much, my darling Diana."

What did I do to deserve this kind of love? It was so touching that I cannot help but cry. Yes, he used to always write letters for me. They were written on a brown paper. And to boast, I still have them. And yes, as much as I hate him, or so I thought, I kept the letters he would give me back then because it was so heartwarming. Maybe I already like him back then, I was just indenial.

"Thank you so much, my love. I love you." I retorted. "I love you more." he replied. We were drawn by the affectionate hap that we didn't realize the clock was ticking. "Let's go back upstairs and sleep, you still have to go to work." I told him while walking towards the light switch. And there he was, cleaning the mess we have made from being emotional and eating pizza.

Later that morning, Dominique was taking a bath in preparation to go to his company. Oops—correction, MY company. I am the chairwoman of our company; he's the vice. But since I'm on a maternity leave, he's in-charge of taking care of of everything.

While I was breastfeeding Quiana, Dominique was still in the bathroom, someone's mobile phone seems to be ringing. It wasn't my phone so there's only one answer: it was his phone.

"Babe!! Someone's calling you." I shouted as he's still in the bathroom. "Babe!!" But he doesn't seem to hear me so I thought I'd answer it. I was still holding my baby on my way to our closet since I can't put her down and my husband's phone was there. I was about to pick it up but the contact's name suddenly made me think twice.

"Unknown number?" I murmured.

------- End of Part 11 -------

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mythbustersfacts · 2 months

Text

Adam: [grinning at the camera] Welcome to a very special episode of MythBusters! Today, we’re diving into the wild and wacky world of GoAnimate myths.

Jamie: [raising an eyebrow] For those unfamiliar, GoAnimate is an online platform where people create animated videos. Some of these videos feature over-the-top scenarios that we’re going to put to the test today.

Adam: [holding up a printout of a GoAnimate video] We’re tackling the myth of “Extreme Grounding.” In these videos, characters are grounded for absurdly long periods for the smallest infractions.

Jamie: [seriously] We’re going to recreate this scenario to see what it’s like to impose such severe and extended grounding.

Adam: [smiling at the camera] And for this test, we’ve enlisted a very brave volunteer from our crew – James.

[Cut to James, a cute and somewhat nervous young twink, sitting on a couch in a mock living room setup.]

Adam: [cheerfully] James, today you’re going to experience what it’s like to be grounded GoAnimate style. Ready for the challenge?

James: [looking worried] I guess so, but I still don’t understand why I’m being grounded. I didn’t do anything wrong.

Jamie: [sternly] I don't care. We want to see how someone would handle such unfair and extreme punishment.

[Adam and Jamie lay out the rules: James is confined to a small, bare room with no entertainment, no food, and only basic amenities. He’s allowed out for brief bathroom breaks but otherwise must stay in the room and complete monotonous tasks.]

[As time passes, Adam and Jamie decide to up the ante, getting more involved in the grounding.]

Adam: [smirking] Let’s see how you handle writing “I will not break the rules” 5000 times, James.

Jamie: [adding with a stern tone] And no breaks until you’re done.

James: [growing more distressed] This is ridiculous! I didn’t do anything to deserve this!

Adam: [mocking tone] Oh, but you did, James. You agreed to be our test subject, and now you’re grounded for it!

[As the hours turn into days, James’s condition deteriorates. He becomes increasingly agitated and distressed. The cameras catch him talking to himself and expressing his frustration.]

James: [desperate, to the camera] I can’t take this anymore. I’m losing my mind in here. Please, let me out!

[Adam and Jamie observe from a control room, their expressions growing more intense as they discuss pushing James further.]

Adam: [looking slightly manic] Let’s see how he handles even stricter conditions. Maybe we should cut his food rations even more.

Jamie: [nodding, with a hint of excitement] And restrict his bathroom breaks. It’s for the experiment, after all.

[James is shown crying and pleading for the experiment to end. His distress is palpable as he faces increasingly demented punishments, like swallowing ball bearings or sticking his hand into a running microwave.]

James: [breaking down] Please, I can’t do this anymore. You guys are being so mean. I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me!

Adam: [through the intercom, sounding uncharacteristically harsh] Because we need to know, James. We need to see know happens when someone is grounded to the extreme.

Adam: [to Jamie] Maybe we should see how he handles another week. Really push the boundaries.

Jamie: [agreeing] I was thinking more like a month.

[As they prepare to extend the experiment, a group of Discovery Channel lawyers and executives rush into the control room. They look alarmed and stern.]

Lawyer: [firmly] This has gone far enough. We’re shutting this down right now.

Adam: [protesting] But we’re just getting to the critical phase! We need to see how far we can take it!

Jamie: [insisting] It’s for the experiment. We have to be thorough.

Executive: [angrily] You’ve crossed the line. This is no longer safe or ethical. Release him immediately.

[The lawyers and executives take control, and the cameras cut away from the increasingly chaotic scene. The episode abruptly ends as they rush to free James from the room, who is in a state of severe distress and exhaustion.]

James would return to work on the show the next week.

#James #GoAnimate

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ihateoc · 7 months

Text

Ren is Nice Now

(word count: 1,258) (ren loses a bet and has to be nice to shadow)

Shadow never imagined he'd witness this day. The day when Ren lost a bet to him, obligating her to be kind to him for a full 24 hours. As they played cards with Bennett, Shadow employed some good ol' dirty tricks learned from fellow mercenaries to secure his victory. Now, Ren sulks across from him, arms folded, while Bennett chuckles at the outcome.

"This is so unfair," Ren grumbles quietly, "I'm always nice to him."

"I mean, no, not really," Bennett retorts with a shake of the head.

"I am too!" She argues back defensively, "Er, sometimes. Can you blame me for being mean? He tried to kill me several times over an extended period of time," She adds with an indignant huff.

Her words prompt Bennett to knowingly point out, "Yeah, but it was your idea for him to live with us."

"Ah, don't be like that, sweetheart. I'm sure we're gonna have a blast today," Shadow flashes Ren a cocky grin and Bennett continues to laugh.

God, she's mad. And fucking gorgeous when mad.

Looking at her beautiful grey eyes fighting not to roll makes the corners of his lips twitch in amusement. He's looking forward to how this day will unfold. This is better than all of those nights spent gambling with Carter and other mercenaries.

"Fine! I can be nice! I'm nice," She turns to face Bennett as she prods him, "Right, Bennett?"

Bennett stops chuckling and nods in agreement, "Yes, I think you're nice. You help everyone even if it means trouble for you."

"Thought so."

"Yeah, that's my girl!" Shadow cheerfully claps his hands, stretching out comfortably on the couch before continuing teasingly, "So, for today... How about treating me to breakfast? I'm famished."

Shadow doesn't miss the shocked look in Ren's eyes and let a laugh slip from his lips quietly.

"I said I'd be nice, not that I'd be your damn maid," She spits out with her arms folded over her chest.

"That didn't sound very nice..." Bennett mumbles under his breath, earning a sharp glare from his sister in response.

Shadow's laughter rings out, "No, no doll… You got it all wrong. I ain't asking ya to cook," He stands up and grins slyly at Ren, "I said treat me to breakfast. I wanna eat out somewhere with you."

He slides a hand through his hair, pushing the messy locks out of his face while an uncomfortable silence envelops the room. Hesitantly, she agrees, "Fine, that doesn't sound too bad."

"Still doesn't sound very nice," Bennett murmurs, earning Ren's wrath, not that he seems to mind.

"Jesus, Bennett, I hate you right now," She stands up, confidently holding her hand out for Shadow with a forced grin playing on her lips, "Let's go out to breakfast, Shadow."

"Wow, Renny, that sounded almost genuine. I'll cherish this moment forever," Shadow takes her hand with a grin as he gets off the couch, "Let's get going then."

His heart pounds in his chest at the contact of their hands but he brushes it aside, instantly turning on his usual smug aura. His excitement for the day skyrocketed seeing Ren trying to deal with him.

With the same forced smile morphing her face, she says, "You can pick where you want to eat. Anywhere."

"Oh shit, does this mean I'm allowed to pick the fanciest place?" He smirks at her as he leads them towards the door.

She's giving him way too much freedom here, but damn, it feels amazing to see her squirming like that for a change.

"Oh, you little-" Ren begins to complain, stopping herself when she notices the smirk on his lips, "I mean, you little rascal. Yeah, anywhere."

Inwardly, she was punching herself in the gut. He knows exactly how annoying this is for her.

Shadow's laugh echoes in the hallway as they step out of the apartment, "Well, keep your eyes peeled then, beautiful… 'Cause we're gonna have one hell of a day."

Shadow chooses a charming cafe nearby, and Ren very generously offers to drive them there.

----------

Sipping on her hot chocolate, Ren sits opposite Shadow at their table.

"Cheers to a good morning, princess," The dark-haired man holds his cup of coffee up for a toast with an amused smile on his face. Damn, he couldn't believe his luck today. This is how every morning should be.

She clinks her cup against his, mumbling a, "Sure, cheers," Before taking another drink.

"Now, isn't that a sight to behold," Shadow mock-gasps, "Ren-Ren being all sweet and nice."

He takes a sip of his coffee, allowing the warmth to spread through him.

"I'm not that mean to you, am I?" She wonders, somewhat in disbelief. Sure, Ren had always been harder on him, but she wasn't trying to be outright rude.

He quirks an eyebrow up at her question, "Ah well, you do have a knack for keeping me on my toes, doll. But don't worry about it. I just consider it as your special way of showing affection."

To him, her sharpness was part of the attraction and he honestly wouldn't want her any different, though this was entertaining.

"Well..." Ren looks down into her drink, avoiding eye contact, "I'm sorry if I'm too mean to you sometimes."

"Nah, don't say sorry… It's who you are and I find it damn attractive," Shadow places his hand over hers on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Plus, your mean is better than most people's nice."

"Is that so?" She questions him as she looks up, her gaze meeting his again as a ghost of a smile dances on her lips, "I'm glad. It's not like I don't care about you. It's like Bennett said, if I didn't, I wouldn't have brought you home with us."

The way she phrased it was akin to someone bringing home a stray dog from the pound. Guess that wasn't too far off. But hearing her say she cares about him... Today really was his lucky day.

"Ah, so I'm your pet now?" He chuckles lightly and leans back in his chair, "I sure hope this means ya won't chase me off with a broom if I happen to curl up next to ya on the couch."

"I won't make any promises," She replies with a lighthearted chuckle, "But really, I believe in you. And I still really think you should take the hunter exam."

He grins at her words, "Yeah? You really think I'd make a good hunter?"

She nods simply, "Yep. I told you that before and I mean it."

"Alright then, if that's what ya want… I'll take the exam."

He had been considering it ever since Bennett mentioned the idea, but he was on the fence about it. If Ren really thinks he can do it, then he won't let her down. Is she really putting this much trust in him though? It feels nice.

"Great," Ren says, leaning forward with a determined glint in her eye, "I need a new lost hunter to rescue all these missing hunters, and you're the guy for the job."

Shadow chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, "I guess I really am your pet now, eh? Your trusty hound sent off to do your bidding."

"Doesn't seem like you mind."

"Well, if it's for you… I don't," He admits with a shrug and a smirk.

Being under her command? He wouldn't mind that at all. As long as she keeps looking at him like this.

#OC #my ocs #my characters #my writings #hxh oc #hunter x hunter oc #oc: shadow #oc: bennett #oc: ren

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goaskbarnes · 4 years

Text

Grumpy Sergeant

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Peter x Reader (platonic)

Summary/Request: Ooo we can request???? Maybe reader being best friends with Peter and Bucky getting super jealous because he wants to date reader but thinks Peter is her boyfriend 🤷🏻‍♀️ via anonymous

Warnings: jealous!Bucky, language, fluffy ending

Words: 1399

Authors Notes: Thank you so much for this request! Really hope I did justice and you like it anon! ☺️ the dumb side of me didn’t know if you meant Peter Parker or Peter Quill 🙈

If only that phrase Sam used often ‘if looks could kill they would be dead by now’ was true, then Bucky wouldn’t be here worrying about Peter.

Bucky has been watching the two of you hang out almost everyday for the past couple of days. You’re one of his best friends and knew if something was going on you might have said something, but since you haven’t, Bucky can’t ignore the annoying nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

You look far too comfortable in each other’s presence for anything to be platonic. Peter was constantly touching your arm or you would laugh at his really ridiculous jokes that weren’t even close to funny. Bucky didn’t understand it, and as the days went on, he thought more about it. The more he thought about it, the more moody he became.

Bucky’s had a thing for you for some time now, you’re his ray of sunshine on a rainy day. And since Peter has been in the picture, you’ve kind of disappeared from his routine and he doesn’t like that, he doesn’t like that at all.

“Do you want a drink?” You ask Peter, standing up from the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Your shirt rises up, and Bucky notices Peter’s eyes on your exposed skin.

“Oh! Yes, can I have some ice water?” He licks his dry lips and focuses on something else. You nod and practically skip into the kitchen area.

“Hi Bucky!” You cheerfully say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek, something you do all too often. Bucky smirks when he sees Peter looking at your interaction.

“Hi Y/N. It feels like it’s been a long, long time since I saw you.” He says, tapping his metal fingers against the marble counter. His eyes follow you around the kitchen, and watches you prepare two glasses of ice water. You’re taken aback by him using your name, usually he would give you one of his infamous pet names - your favourite being ‘sugar’ or ‘sweetheart’.

“We should hang out soon.” You say, dunking some ice into the glasses.

Bucky grunts in response, knowing full well that’s not going to happen any time soon. You don’t think to question the grunt, it wasn’t unusual for Bucky to have off days.

A couple more days pass and Bucky’s moods just deteriorate even further to the point he’s snapping at Steve almost constantly. The recent snap was in the gym, Bucky was getting pissed off with Steve’s orders on what to do.

“I know what to fucking do! Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?” Bucky rages, throwing the dumbbell down on the ground that it echoed off an horrific hang against the four grey walls.

Steve shakes his head, he’s used to his friend’s outbursts by now. But this was something else.

“What is wrong with you? Are you having nightmares again?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and is about to give it to Steve when the sound of your laughter fills his ear as you step into the gym with… surprise… Peter on your tail.

“And that’s what I said!” Peter finishes his story with a laugh. Your hand is on your chest from laughing too much.

Steve quickly connects the door and pats his friend on the shoulder.

“You know, it’s not what it looks like, right?” Steve asks in a hushed voice.

“And how would you know that?” Bucky frowns, his body language suggesting he’s about to implode with rage.

“I just do.” Steve shrugs and Bucky wants to punch the smug grin off his face. You catch his eye as you skip past the super soldiers. The tension is thick in the air that it’s almost suffocating you.

“Everything okay?” You ask, wrapping your earphones around your neck and shifting your focus from one soldier to the other. Steve shrugs while Bucky seems uninterested in your presence. Since that day in the kitchen, he’s been more and more distant with you.

“What’s it to you?” Bucky asks with a grunt. Again, you’re taken aback by his tone, making you step away and downcast your eyes to the floor. “And besides, your boyfriend over there is waiting for you.” He adds with a huff, your eyes widen in surprise but he’s already out of the door before you can correct him. You look back to Steve who offers an apologetic smile for Bucky’s mood, one you don’t accept because he couldn’t have gotten the information more wrong if he had tried.

Peter was your best friend and he was like a brother to you. It was strictly platonic, and you weren't about to lose Bucky because of some misinformation he may have heard.

You look back at Peter who is waiting for you by the treadmills, you smile and throw him your unopened bottle of water. “I’ll be back soon, I’ve got to go and talk to him.” You smile sadly and Steve offers words of encouragement.

Turning on your heels, you sprint after Bucky, unaware of where he could have gone, you grab the attention of Friday.

“Friday, where is Sergeant Barnes?” You head is turning in every direction, peeping through the glass windows of the doors on your way through the hallway.

“Sergeant Barnes is in his room.” Of course he would be. He spends most of his time there hiding away from other people, especially during one of Tony’s extravagant events.

You head straight to his room, not bothering to talk and find him with his head in his hands, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I need to talk to you.” You say breathlessly from the running you just did to get here. Bucky looks up slowly and clasps his hands together before scoffing.

“I’m not the one you need relationship advice from. How come you never told me about him anyway?” You don’t appreciate the tone he’s using, treating you almost like a teenager who kept a relationship secret from their parents.

“Bucky… I’m not sure where you heard or who told you but it’s not what you think. Peter and I are just friends, that’s all we’ve ever been and that’s all we'll ever be. Peter is like my brother, and you’re- you-”

“I’m what?” Bucky asks standing from the bed and in front of you. His blue eyes seeping into yours and for a moment you forget where you are.

“You’re- you’re-.” It suddenly all clicked into place: his moods, his distancing, accusations that you were dating without asking you first. “You’re jealous.” A smile tugs at your lips and Bucky averts his gaze, something he regularly does when he’s been caught or is nervous.

“No I wasn’t.” He argues

“Yess you were. That’s why you were acting like a grumpy old man.” You tease, jabbing his chest and giggling. Your fingers squeeze his cheeks and laugh.

“Stop! Leave my cheeks alone. Anyway, why does it matter if I was jealous which by the way - I wasn’t.” He shifts on the balls of his feet and folds his arm.

“The real question is James, why were you jealous to begin with? Why did it matter to you if I was dating Peter which by the way - I’m not.” You mimic his words and grin.

He sighs in defeat and shakes his head. “Fine, I was jealous okay? But only because I’ve had a crush on you for a real long time and the thought of you in a relationship with someone else made me crazy because he wasn’t me. And it’s really selfish of me to act like that but-”

You cut his rambling off by pressing your lips to his and wrapping your arms around his neck, his folded arms digging into your chest and you smile against his lips when you pull away.

“Then you should have asked me out on a date instead of being so grumpy.”

“I’m not grum-” and each time an excuse flew from his lips, you would cut him off by kissing him until he finally sighed and rested his forehead against yours.

“Fine, will you go on a date with me then?” He rolls his eyes playfully, prompting you to do the same.

“Fine,” you mock with a smile. “Okay yes. If you stop being so jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.”

“Yes you were.”

Taglist: @writerssblockk @belovedadam

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stratuscloudsurfer · 2 years

Note

Omg I loved what you wrote for the photo studio ask! Now I’m sitting here vibrating while thinking of the different possibilities. Do Ingo and Emmet become sort of unofficial sources for Hisui knowledge? Does Emmet explain to Museum Guy that he’s the same Emmet and no, he is Not Ingo’s son? Do they get the photo, and where do they keep it?

Sorry! I read your tags and I wanted to know a little more. Especially since this would be a real look into how Ingo and Emmet go about their lives post Hisui together now!

Please don't apologize! I'm glad you asked!

So you know in Night at the Museum where Rebecca gets to meet Sacagawea? That's sort of how I imagine this going.

At first Museum Guy is so completely shocked that Ingo and Emmet are worried that he's going to pass out on them or something. But I mean, who wouldn't be about to faint if some guy came walking through the door like he'd just stepped out of the 19th century? Except he's not just some guy, he's a major historical figure that you wrote the most important paper of your academic career on.

Ingo and Emmet exchange worried looks and help the guy sit down in a chair at the nearest table. They sit down across from him and Ingo hisses something to Emmet to the effect of, "you really thought this through, didn't you?"

Its a little while before Museum Guy can collect himself enough to speak. Emmet leaves briefly to get him a bottle of water and Ingo a soda from the museum cafe. When he returns the man takes a small sip and finally says, "This can't actually be happening. There's no way I'm sitting across from you. I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"Nope," Emmet says cheerfully.

"Not dreaming," Ingo adds.

Museum Guy asks Ingo if he's okay with him touching him, and he says he doesn't mind. He extends his arms so that he can see for himself that the band around his wrist and the torn sleeves of his jacket are, in fact, real. Museum Guy asks if he doesn't mind if he gets a closer look at the wristband, and Ingo removes it and hands it over to him. He treats it like a priceless treasure, turning it around gently in his hands like its made out of some precious metal rather than a worn, leather-type material.

"This is absolutely amazing. You're absolutely amazing," Museum Guy says. "I-I have so many questions."

"Ask away," Ingo replies.

They talk for the better part of two hours. Museum Guy is completely starstruck and hanging on to Ingo's every word. He wants to know about Lady Sneasler, about what Hisui was really like, about how he's sitting right here, right now.

When he asks him about his son, Emmet, Ingo lets out a laugh and looks over at his brother. "Well, why don't you ask him? He's right here, after all."

Museum Guy almost loses it a second time when Emmet scratches at his neck and admits, somewhat apologetically, "Yeah, I am Emmet. But... I'm not his son. I'm actually his twin. Sorry I didn't tell you before."

By the time its over with, they've talked for nearly four hours and the museum is about to close. It's then that they ask Museum Guy about the picture on the wall and whether he wouldn't mind letting them take it home with them. Museum Guy instantly goes over and takes it off the wall, handing it over. He's willing to give them anything else they might want, too, but Emmet and Ingo decline. Ingo offers to give up his "warden uniform" complete with the destroyed jacket and hat in exchange for the picture, and Museum Guy is obviously thrilled at the prospect but insists that he couldn't possibly make Ingo part with such precious objects. Ingo insists, saying that, "I don't need these clothes anymore. I've got plenty of intact jackets and hats. It's obvious that you'd appreciate them, and I'd rather you take them off my hands."

They agree on the exchange, and the brothers leave with the portrait. It's hanging proudly in their living room.

They go back and visit Museum Guy from time to time, as well.

#ask #answer #submas #pla #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #kid emmet #au

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Set My Heart Ablaze

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Creepy Matsukawa, Obsessive Behavior, Public Train Sex

Prompt: Chikan/Trains/Public Sex

Summary: Neither of you can deny the mutual spark of interest between the two of you, but Matsukawa takes the matter of turning that spark into a fire into his own hands. Only time will tell if that fire will provide you warmth and comfort or burn you alive.

A/N: This is my submission for the HQHQ NSFW Collab! Masterlist can be found here. Be sure to check everyone’s content once the masterlist goes live tomorrow night~

The train doors open and Matsukawa briefly glances up, smiling to himself as you step onboard, looking left and right for an open spot despite how you always end up in the same corner of the moving vehicle. He doesn’t know anything about you, not even your name. Yet he finds himself drawn to the normalcy you bring, the comfort of knowing you’re a clockwork fixture of his everyday life.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Matsukawa is just a man at the end of the day and he doesn’t deny that he took note of you long before you became so ingrained in his life. But it had been no more than a man observing an attractive woman and he doesn’t give you another passing thought as he returns to gazing out the train windows.

But working with death on a daily basis makes you look at life differently.

He prides himself on being a practical and level-headed man and despite the heavy nature of his profession, he never thought he’d get too bogged down by the environment, by the grimness of his business. Sure, maybe someone like Oikawa would freak out within hours, if not minutes, of being in a funeral home surrounded by corpses and coffins. But he’s not Oikawa (thank God for that). It’s just a job to help keep a roof over his head and food on the table.

But the longer he’s surrounded by caskets, the more grieving and sobbing families and friends he has to comfort yet professionally guide through catalogs and brochures and price tags, he can slowly but surely feel the weight of his daily work resting heavy on his shoulders, digging deeper into him with every corpse and tragic story he reluctantly becomes privy to. Matsukawa finds a new appreciation for life, for every tiny and minute detail, and suddenly you aren’t just another stranger who happens to share his train route.

You’re a reminder that he’s still alive, that despite the curveballs life throws at some, he’s still blessed to enjoy the routine and monotony of it. Life looks different, clearer, as he begins to really pay attention, appreciating every moment he has.

Maybe he’s paying too much attention. He doesn’t know when he begins to focus so intently on you, shocking himself with the realization that he’s observed you so closely when he nonchalantly notices that you’re using a different tote bag than your usual one. When did Matsukawa Issei become someone who notices the details of a woman’s outfit and accessories?

He knows it’s not right, knows even Hanamaki would crinkle his nose in distaste if he found out Matsukawa was creepily studying a random unknown female on a daily basis. But he can’t help himself, his realization only seeming to make him unconsciously focus on you even more. He notices what hand you use to hold your phone. He memorizes every expression you make as your mind drifts off, lulled by the machinery of the train.

But looking from afar only satisfies him for so long and he finds himself creeping closer to you, adjusting where he sits to be closer to your preferred corner of the train. He always tells himself just a little closer, but it’s never enough. And although he’s now standing right beside you, close enough to see every eyelash, every pore of your skin, it’s still not enough. He needs to hear your voice, feel your body against his, know everything about you inside and out.

He understands the irony of the situation he’s found himself in, reminiscing on how Hanamaki and him had gagged at how disgusting men could be as they watched older businessmen grope and grab at poor unwilling female passengers on their way to and from school. He knows how wrong it is, how like an uninspired porno this is, but when the train conveniently rattles, he jostles his body into yours, “accidentally” bumping into you.

Acting isn’t Matsukawa’s forte, but he thinks he damn well deserves an award for the performance he’s putting on as he profusely apologizes to you, hiding the groan of satisfaction he feels from the brief contact he’d had with you, from the way your attention is solely focused on him, from the way your voice seeps into his ears like the loveliest melody he’s ever heard. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, meaningless small and polite talk leaving his lips as his mind focuses on what’s more important, mentally recording every syllable and movement you make as you continue conversing with him. But whatever words are spilling out of him seem to be working and something hungry and possessive stirs in him when your face lights up as you board the train the next day, making a beeline towards where he stands as you cheerfully greet him.

Maybe it’s foolish of you to so easily trust and warm up to a complete stranger. But he’s tall, attractive, and interesting, which is more than you can say for most of the men you’ve met and your friends and family are always telling you to put yourself out there more. Is there really much of a difference between finding a random stranger on the countless dating apps you’ve installed versus connecting with one in person? You’d even argue that there’s something whimsically romantic about how the two of you met, even though you don’t know for sure if this is really going to lead to anything. But at the very least, your daily commute becomes more exciting.

You’re everything and more compared to what Matsukawa had imagined and if he thought he was infatuated with you before, he’s completely and utterly obsessed with you now. You’re all he can think of, all he can see in his mind’s eye, even hours after you’ve parted ways on your morning commute, even as he lays in bed in the middle of the night. And as his hand slips underneath the hem of his boxers, wrapping around his aching cock to his imaginations of what you’d look like writhing underneath him, how you’d sound moaning his name, he knows he needs to have you.

After all, as pretty as a meal can be, it’s ultimate purpose is to be devoured.

You giggle when the train shakes and you feel a long toned body shift into yours, squishing you against the wall you’re leaning against, sighing in bliss at how right, how good it feels to be in Matsukawa’s embrace even if it is just for a fleeting moment, a little accident all too common on jam packed trains. But your face heats when you continue feeling his warmth, when his body seems to press even further into you until you can feel the expanse of his body against yours, not even an inch of space left between you.

“Matsukawa-”

Your words are caught off by a gasp as Matsukawa buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, lips and tongue mouthing and licking the sensitive skin there. You’re confused, scared, and aroused, hands reaching up to clutch at the lapels of Matsukawa’s suit, unsure whether to hold him tight to you or push him away. And your humiliation only increases when a nearby elderly couple scowls at the two of you in disdain, clearly unamused by the scandalous gestures of what they believe to be a young couple in love.

Yet you can’t help how your heart beats faster, wondering if this is proof of Matsukawa’s attraction to you, wondering if your hidden feelings for him are returned. But this isn’t the time or place for that conversation and you fervently whisper in his ear, begging him to stop, telling him people are watching.

“Is that the only reason you want me to stop? Because people are watching?”

You grow flustered at the implied meaning of his words, shame filling you at how much you’re enjoying this, hating how your neck arches for more attention as he straightens up once more, his body hiding yours from view as he stands in front of you, still pinning you to the wall.

“Better be as still and quiet as you can, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to register his words before your mouth opens in a pathetic whine as a calloused hand trails under the hem of your shirt, sliding across the stretch of your stomach, mapping your torso before finally shoving your bra above the swell of your breasts, kneading one of your mounds, tweaking and swirling around your hardening nipple. It feels so good and you almost succumb right then and there, lost in the predatory lustful gaze he pins you with.

But when the train makes its next stop, the conductor’s voice jars you from your trance and you clutch at Matsukawa’s forearm, silently pleading for him to stop with desperate eyes despite the way you quietly mewl when he just quirks an eyebrow and pinches your nipple in retaliation.

“We can’t- We shouldn’t-”

Your hand trembles, jaw going slack when he slides one thigh between your legs, digging his hard muscles into that already dripping hole only protected by the fabric of your pants.

“You’re not very convincing. How about we play a game? If you can tell me you don’t want this without moaning like a bitch in heat, I’ll stop.”

There’s no room for disagreement as he abruptly begins grinding his thigh into your aching cunt, flexing and relaxing his muscle in a pattern and rhythm you can’t keep up with. It takes every last bit of will power in you to not wantonly ride his leg and hump against him like the lewd slut he had just accused you of being.

“I don’t want-”

You cry out in agonized pleasure as his fingers still hovering near your breasts begin to roll your nipples between calloused tips, his thigh never losing its momentum. And under the dual points of attack, your resistance crumbles. Matsukawa’s eyes widen in awe as you bounce and roll your hips against his leg, hiding your face in his chest as you try to muffle the lewd sounds slipping past your lips in the fabric of his jacket.

You’re gorgeous like this, a needy, lustful mess. But as much as he loves to see you suffer so beautifully, there’s only so much time before your stop and he decides to have mercy on you, to reward you for being so honest, so good for him. Your face snaps up to stare at him with pupils blown wide as his hand reaches underneath the waistband of your pants and panties. He groans when his fingers are instantly soaked in your arousal, your panties sticky with your fluids and his digits slip inside of your tight wet heat with no resistance at all.

He wants nothing more than to push the pesky fabric out of the way and lay you bare for his viewing pleasure, to have easy access to thrust in and out of you. But he’ll save that for another day. Instead his fingers slip out of you, tips circling your swollen clit, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves as you resume humping his leg, body trembling, drool beginning to trickle from your lips as you frantically chase your end. And as the train stops once more, passengers trickling in and out, you silently scream, body convulsing as he brings you over the edge, pleasure washing over you and leaving you exhausted as you shiver and slump in his arms that are quick to embrace you and hold you steady as the train begins to move again.

You submissively let his fingers coated in your essence enter your mouth, obediently sucking and licking him clean, finding strange comfort in the action as you remain rested against him. But you keen in confusion, cheeks still hollowed as you mindlessly continue sucking while he guides one of your hands to the bulge in his pants.

But although Matsukawa is a man of few words, his desire is clear despite the silence and your face heats in embarrassment as he unbuttons his trousers, bringing your hand to the waistband of his boxers, dark eyes expectantly staring down at you. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Not when you can literally hear the other passengers surrounding the two of you, only Matsukawa’s tall frame hiding your illicit activity. But your body has a mind of its own and you greedily slip under the fabric barrier, moaning around his fingers at how large, hot, and heavy he is in your hands.

You hate how badly you want to see it, to feel it inside you, splitting you apart. Your pussy clenches, leaking in interest once again despite having just found blissful release mere minutes ago as your hands curiously trail up and down the shaft, trying to memorize how every bit of it feels against your skin, trying to visualize what it looks like. But you whimper as Matsukawa finally pulls his fingers free from your mouth, squeezing your jaw and giving you a warning look.

“Don’t tease me, doll.”

Your fingers wrap around the length and it’s your turn to stare up at Matsukawa with eyes full of hunger and awe as you watch his Adam’s apple swallow, as you feel a pleased groan reverberate in his chest with every stroke of your hand. Up and down. Up and down. Your hands are slick with pre-cum and you know it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear the lewd wet sounds of his sticky essence coating his shaft with every movement of your palm against the velvety skin. You’re so mesmerized, so lost in the experience that you startle when something hot and thick spurts onto your hand, mixing with his pre-cum, making an even bigger mess of his boxers and you.

You stare stunned at the hand you pull out from between his legs, gazing at the white and transparent fluids that coat your flesh. But before you can even think about wiping it off or scavenging around for a spare napkin or paper in your bag, a large hand grabs your wrist and brings your stained fingers to your mouth. You try to resist him, the spell he had you under broken now that the haze of lust isn’t blinding you. But his grip tightens until you wince and finally relent, stomach churning in disgust and shame as you tentatively lick at the bitter liquid.

He doesn’t release you, not until every last drop is coating the inside of your mouth, his taste heavy in your mouth, seemingly in every crevice of your orifice, your hand completely clean and void of your sinful interaction.

You want to hate him. You want to wipe the smug satisfied look clean off his face. But as you readjust your disheveled clothing, you’re reminded of your own body’s betrayal, your own carnal desire and pleasure, by the uncomfortable mess in between your legs. And all you can do is silently stand there and pretend that nothing has happened as Matsukawa nonchalantly tucks himself in and checks his phone.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as you wait for him to acknowledge what has just happened, only to be disappointed as he doesn’t even spare you another glance, too observed in the glowing screen in his hand. You wonder if this was just a one time thing, if he had been stringing you along all this time for one quick public tryst. And you hate the way that thought makes your chest hurt, hate how much you dislike the idea of never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never feeling and tasting him again.

But as the train pulls into his stop, your eyes widen when his face hovers by your ear, lips grazing your lobe as his voice melts into your soul.

“Wear a dress or skirt tomorrow. No panties or bra.”

He laughs as surprise turns into an endearing scowl that barely hides the apparent relief in your eyes and he just casually waves farewell as you send him on his way with a tirade of angry words about his fucking audacity. But it’s all empty heat and he chuckles at the self-conscious embarrassment written all over your face when he sees you the next morning, a pretty dress fluttering around your knees.

There’s no preamble, no pretense of what’s about to happen and he smirks in appreciation at the unobstructed feeling of skin against skin as he slips his hand under your skirt, not an inch of fabric covering the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

#haikyuu smut #matsukawa smut #yandere matsukawa #yandere haikyuu #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #tw: yandere #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

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kaseyskat · 3 years

Text

it's 5am and I should not be awake but I got the dialogue for this in my head and it wouldn't get out so here I am hahaha

tw: brief suicidal ideation, lots of self-loathing

~~~~~

anne had believed so fiercely that bringing her parents to see marcy in the hospital would help.

her friend had been sullen, quiet, in the days she had been awake. the hospital was keeping her until they were sure she could live on her own again; turns out getting impaled through the chest by a flaming sword and then forced into a healing tank for a week had lasting damage. anne's heart does somersaults every time she thinks about how dangerously close she had been to losing marcy for good, how often she's reminded of it.

marcy's parents hadn't come by yet, though, and so anne had invited her own. her parents, after all, have always loved marcy the most of her friends; sasha has always been the bad influence, the trouble-maker, but polite marcy with her good manners and better grades, would always be number one in their eyes. they had been worried about her too, anne knows- this visit is just as much for them as it is for marcy.

except, when anne walks them into the hospital room and cheerfully tells marcy she has visitors, marcy just looks scared.

she sits there with wide eyes as anne takes her hand, rambles about everything that's going on in her life since the last time she came by. every so often, anne catches her taking a guilt-ridden glance over in the direction of anne's parents, but she doesn't say anything.

"marbles," anne finally says, quietly, her tone dropping, "is everything okay? you're more spacey than normal."

marcy makes a face, and she peers over at anne's parents again. "why... why are you here?"

it's not a question directed at anne.

anne turns her head to watch her parents exchange looks with each other. "we wanted to see you safe," her mom finally answers, giving a small, reassuring smile. "we were worried."

"you shouldn't be," marcy mumbles, and she has that broken look in her eyes again, the one so reminiscent of her time under the control of and eldritch god and the immediate aftermath, how shattered her mind had been.

"marcy-" anne tries.

"it, it was my fault." and here, marcy glances down at the bed, at her and anne's joined hands. "didn't anne tell you? i-i trapped them in am-amphibia. everything that happened was my fault."

tears pool into her eyes now, and she releases a gutteral sob, turning her head so that it's half buried in the pillows next to her. "it's my fault," she repeats, brokenly. "you, you should hate me, I took your d-daughter away from you, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I'm sorry-"

"shhh, it's okay." anne's mom moves forward, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing a hand against marcy's forehead. she frowns; marcy must be feverish again, anne thinks. "you are okay, we're not mad-"

"-you should be!" and marcy sobs again, weakly tugging at anne's hand like she means to pull away. "this, this is all my fault, I should've, I should've..." she trails off, and then shudders, sniffling.

"I wish he had just killed me," marcy says, and anne's vision tilts violently on edge. "I wish, I wish he had- it's what I deserved, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please-"

"-don't say that, marbles," anne pleads. she glances up at her mom; her mom looks so concerned, stroking marcy's hair as gently as she can manage. her dad comes to join them too, and he had always loved marcy like a second daughter, had played video games with her and kept the freezer stocked with her favorite ice cream because she would never ask for it herself. this is breaking their hearts too, she realizes.

"you made a mistake," her mom starts, in that gentle tone of hers, "but we know you didn't intend for anyone to be hurt. and, if anne was telling the truth to me, we also have you to thank for her coming home unharmed. so thank you, marcy. thank you for sending her home."

marcy sobs again. anne squeezes her hand gently. "I don't want to live in this world without you, marbles," she says, and there are tears in her own eyes as well, when did that happen? "you're okay now. we're all okay now."

her dad comes to perch on anne's other side, her mom is still stroking marcy's hair, and with anne's hand in her own, marcy doesn't look so lost or broken anymore, even with the tears streaming down her face.

"you're okay," anne says again, squeezing her hand again. "we're gonna be okay."

"okay," marcy echoes.

#kasey writes stuff #marcy wu #anne boonchuy #tw: suicidal ideation #whoever it was that said annes mom would hate marcy after everything?#yeah this was written out of spite lol #also timeline wise this is set in the same universe as my hurt/comfort sashannarcies #just like. before things get settled #so im not tagging with a ship

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shigarakis-cumdump · 3 years

Text

Search History Pt. 2

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigarakiscumdump/works

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Summary: How long has Shigaraki kept you in this musty room? You miss his face, too. He might be your kidnapper, sure, but he's all you have to talk to, if he'd give you attention..

A/N: Read part 1 here!

Cw: slight toture, stalking/ kidnapping, noncon/dubcon, somno

Word Count: 1.1k

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

It’s been 2 weeks and Shigaraki still hasn’t let you out of the musty room he put you in. The few times he’s visited you, other than giving you food or water, you try bargaining with him.

“Shigaraki, I’ve missed you so much!! When can I come out of this room? I want to spend more time with you!” you say cheerfully, but you can’t fool him.

“Nice try, sweetheart~ I know the second I let you out of here, you’ll run off to those little heroes and turn me in.” he replies. You’d swear that wasn’t the truth (not anymore, at least) but no matter how you worded it, he wasn’t letting you out until he trusted you. Were these his true colors? All you wanted was some human contact, or even just conversation, if we’re dealing with someone like Shigaraki. You think you developed Stockholm syndrome, but you weren’t sure (although if you question having it, you more than likely do). Every time he came down to see you, your face lit up like a child during Christmas. It would bring him joy, sure, but Shigaraki has horrible trust issues. Who could blame him? It seemed too good to be true that the hero he kidnapped actually likes him. He started to believe his bad thoughts which led to more overthinking, and overall, an angry Shigaraki.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shigaraki! How was your day? Did you go on any missions?” you beam.

“Don’t sweet talk me, slut. I don’t remember giving you permission.” he states coldly. Your brows furrow and you say, “I’m sorry.. We’ve talked before, I didn’t realize-”

“I said shut up!” he screams, “Every time you open that goddamn mouth of yours, you always talk about getting out. Why can't you see that I’m doing this for you. ALL OF THIS!”

“What? Keeping me chained up in this room?! You never come down to see me. If you loved me so much like you always boast about, you sure don’t fucking act like it.” you say, quickly realizing the words that came from your mouth. His crimson eyes lock onto yours as he steps closer to you.

“If you won’t shut up,” he says, unbuckling his pants, “I’ll make you.” Shigaraki forcefully grabs your head and pinches your mouth open. Before his cock is even in your mouth, tears are already streaming down your face. You try saying sorry, but it’s cut short by him hitting the top of your mouth with his cock. His head goes back, a low groan leaving him. “Now you’re being useful! This is when I love you the most- when you’re an obedient little slut.” he explains, forcing the rest of himself down your throat, feeling it tighten around him. Your hands were still chained, but the thought of trying to say no to him was terrifying. You gagged on his dick, turning Shigaraki on even more. He has a devilish smirk on his face, using his free hand to wipe the tears rolling down your cheek. “We’ll have plenty of time to train this throat of yours, too. I know you’ll be such a good hero slut for me, won’t you?” he says with a chuckle. You whine, wanting to protest. Shigaraki only slams into your face harder, your nose hitting his navel before his cum shoots down the back of your throat. Once he pulls out, he sits down beside you. “I love you so much, Y/N, I really do.. You just need to see it from my eyes.. I saved you from that horrible world so you could be safe and loved by me. You don’t need anyone else; I promise to make you love me just as much as I love you.” Make you? He was sounding even more delusional from the 1st time he rambled about this. The added bit of force did scare you, though. He may say that he loves you, but he was so unpredictable it’s like you were walking on eggshells.

“I’ll try and do better for you, Shigaraki..” you mumble, hoping at least that will make him happy. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in. You freeze up at first, but his warmth quickly melted you until you were putty in his arms.

“Good. One day, you and I will live upstairs together, and we can laugh at all the heroes who die because of me.” he says happily, like it was a normal conversation. That thought made you shake a little. You didn’t want to die here, but as long as you obeyed him, he had only love in his eyes. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the days pass, Shigaraki brainwashes and manipulates you more and more, until he knows you won’t leave him; until you can’t leave him.

“Shigaraki!! Did you get hurt from work?!” you say worriedly, pulling him in for a hug. I saw it on the news! I don’t know what I would do without you, please don’t die on me!” you say, sobbing.

“I made it home didn’t I, kitten? I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, don’t worry..” he reassures you, planting a kiss on your forehead. You sigh in relief.

“I’ll go make you some tea,” you offer, heading to the kitchen. His hand stops you and pulls you back to him.

“All I want right now is you, my love.” he says, kissing you. His hands are stationed at your hips, making you sit on his lap. You can feel him getting hard under you from just kissing. Cute . You try to innocently grind on him, but Shigaraki has picked up on those things by now. “Wanna help me with that?” he asks. You nod eagerly as you unbuckle his belt. His dick springs out from his boxers and your hand gets to work. Shigaraki’s hand is around your throat slowly cutting off circulation. “Make me cum before you pass out and maybe I won’t use you like a ragdoll,” he says with a grin. Your eyes widen and you smile back at him. Things like this turn you on more than ever now. You spit on your hand and jerk him off, watching his face contort into boatloads of pleasure. He bucks his hips up, wanting more friction. You speed up your hand and he tightens his grip. Your vision starts to go blurry, but you really want to make him feel good. Shigaraki suddenly puts all 5 fingers on your skirt and panties, leaving you bare. “Sit up.” he commands. You do so and he lines his cock up with your wet cunt. He pushes you down on it and guides you to go at just the right speed. “Fuck, suck a good slut for me, my perfect girl..” he moans, bucking up into you. Your whines fill the room when he hits your sweet spot, and it makes Shigaraki lose his mind. He stills your hips, filling your hole up with his cum.

“Did you just..”

“Gotta be extra sure my darling won’t leave me, don’t I?”

Notes:

#shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #noncon/dubcon #comno #Tw: somno #kidnapping #shigaraki thirst #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki smut #Tw: noncon #Cw:noncon

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messwriting · 4 years

Text

THE SMUT PILE SECRET SANTA

Golden Eyes

Demon!Kuroo Tetsurou x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Note: HOE HOE HOE INDEED! HAHAHAHA

This is my secret santa gift for my dear elf Alisha -- @rivendell101! I do hope you enjoy, I just tried to channel all of Kuroo’s wicked energy into this and sprinkled it with our beloved monsterfucking. Sorry for all the questions, I just wanted to surprise you but also include only things you’d like. ;-; Hope you enjoy and MERRY SMUTMAS <3

Big thanks and lots of kisses to my dear Tay @deathcab4daddy who read this, betaed, and said it wasn't the train wreck I thought it was 😂🥺😘💕

Warnings: This is loosely inspired by the manhwa DEAR DOOR, by Pluto, from which the art above is also from (Satan is fucking hot)! Monsterfucking - Demon. Use of tongue and tail in a very uh naughty way. Magic makes you horny at some point (tho i don’t think is dub-con?), but just to be sure Magic Manipulation. Assplay with tongue and finger penetration. Denials, oh so many denials. Sprinkle of spanking. Soft pain play. Overstim. Oral sex. Rough sex. CHOKING. BITING. MARKING. Demon uhhhh lure? aijaisajisj He’s seducing you with his devilish powers. CORRUPTION. RELIGIOUS BLASPHEMY (sorry jesus).

Word count: ~7.4k. I can’t write anything short, why?!

“So… you’re a demon?” You ask, weirdly not completely panicking over the fact that this brick wall of a man showed up out of nowhere in the middle of your living room as if this were just another Sunday night. The stranger smiles your way with a lopsided grin and the shivers that run through your body seem to support his affirmation.

“Did the horns give it away?” The dark-haired demon asks, with a smile that could make him the single male model of some sin’s propaganda. Your eyes flick to his tail, long and thick, moving calmly in waves behind him, and come up to the unbelievably wide black wings sprouting from his back and threatening to blow a hole in your ceiling.

“Sure,” You say while your eyes come back to his face, taking a second look at the long, twisted black horns sprouting from his high forehead and mixing with his thick raven hair. “Let’s say it’s the horns.”

He snickers but his golden stare is very much sharp on you. Even before it pinned you in place you had found that your legs had begrudgingly refused to move in front of the massive presence in your living room.

“You’re an interesting little thing, aren’t you?” He muses out loud, his arms crossing in front of his body while one hand cradles his own face while he looks down at you. The gold irises glint in the dark like a beacon, the small crystal-like black pupil like that of a wild animal. “Normally people would have been screaming by now. Or passing out. Maybe running.” He doesn’t move from where he stands, but his sentient tail floats over to you, lightly caressing the side of your face as a child stroking their pet; it moves under your chin, over your jaw and cheekbone, pats your hair back, and comes to circle your throat.

It doesn’t squeeze -- but the threat is pretty much clear.

“I don’t think my legs can move.” You tell him in a breathless voice, panic eating away at the corners of your sanity the more you stare at the insanity in front of you. A monstrosity of man with a tail and wings to crown it swaying in your living room as if it’s all okay, as if this is real life. You shudder in place, a whole-body wave of dread that moves along your body and makes you tremble as all the hair on your being stands in place. He grins down at you, wicked and pretty, a cheshire air of mischief in the way his golden irises glint in the dark background of his eyes and mingle with the dim lit room to go with the roll of white pearls of sharp-looking teeth in his mouth.

“Am I dreaming?” Your thoughts escape from your lips in a breath as his tail grounds you to reality, burning hot and heavy around your neck. It contrasts awkwardly with the image in front of you, which your brain keeps trying to deny as true, but the weight of his tail pulls you from the edge of disbelief and pins you in place, your limbs turning cold as you feel unable to move. “Or am I going insane, somehow?”

“Do you think your brain is failing you, little one?”

“Well, seems like the logical reason why there’s a winged man in my living room. With horns and-- a tail.” Your voice stops and you gulp right before your eyes snap once again to his devilish black and golden eyes. “Wait. Are you a demon? Is… a demon in my living room?” The more you speak the least sense it makes. The thing in front of you seems to be very amused by the twinges of panic and disbelief coloring your voice and expression. “Why?”

He smirks and his wings do a fluttering thing before they curve inside his back, two massive black things even when they’re closed. “Must be your lucky day.”

You snort even through your scared haze. “Not exactly what one thinks when considering demons.”

“Ah, bad rep.” Kuroo says and he floats as if he’s sitting on a chair, his legs crossing as he supports an elbow on his thigh and his face on his hand. It’s both parts unnerving and enthralling, and you’re struck with the fact of how big he is once again. “God’s marketing team is hella good. We get the rep for everything going on now-- the crops died? Oh, the devil. Psycho kid? Demoniac. Fucked up government? Send from hell. Sex? Devilish.” He sighs, his pretty lips jutting in a pout as his beautiful face falls into a tired mask. “It’s tiresome to be the poster-boys to all things wicked.”

“Well, seems like you do the part just fine.” You hide yourself through some small sarcasm, as you grumble the remark.

“Hah.” His sharp teeth flash in the dark at the barked laugh, a gasped sound as if he truly found your remark funny. “We get used to it,” He nods your way and then shrugs, a never-leaving smirk on his lips. “And I like the style.”

“Sure,” you say, despite the clear unconvinced tone of your voice as your eyebrows shut up slowly, eating the distance from your hairline until you blink and tiptoe around your next words, “not to be rude, Mr. Demon--”

“Call me Kuroo.” He cuts you off charmingly, as one would in flirting; a playful arch in his brows as his smile spreads just that bit more over his face. You just now realize the appeasing traces of it, the sharp angle of his jaw, the high of his square cheekbones, and the elegant line of his nose; then your eyes fly over the protruding circles of his horns, and your eyes go round almost involuntarily.

“Okay…” It breaches your lips along with a puff of breath. You blink a few times before continuing, still doubting your own eyes as they thread over the massive monster in front of you. You wonder if he’d look better if he’s bent to your height, but then again that wouldn’t do much about those broad shoulders, engulfing your wall where he stands. “Not to be rude, Mr. Kuroo, but…” you steady yourself with a deep breath before continuing, your hand flying to press against your eyes before you can reopen then and see the exact same thing from before -- a demon in your house. “What the fuck you’re doing here, exactly?”

He smiles, pleased with your cussing, apparently. Then his eyes turn focused, predatory, and they’re locked on you.

“I’ve come to offer a deal, little one.”

“A deal?” You parrot, lost in the pull of those golden eyes.

“Yes,” Kuroo smirks, lips splitting unnaturally over sharp canines. He keeps floating in his position, face supported on a big, clawed, hand. “And a quite good one, too.”

“You… You’re at my home, to offer me a deal, right after the small rant on Devil’s bad marketing.” You list the things, doubt thick in your voice.

Kuroo smiles, but it looks wrong. “Yes, dear.”

“Okay,” You risk, though it comes out as a question. Kuroo seems pleased, though. “Go ahead, I guess?”

“I need something from you.”

“Oh shit, is this the soul thing?” Your eyes widened again, hands coming to stand protectively in front of you even as you doubt you could do much to fend him off if he wanted to do you harm. “I’ve seen Supernatural, I’m not selling my fucking soul okay?!”

“Chill, kitten, I don’t really mind your soul.” He’s rather nonchalant, golden eyes completing a circle along his eyeballs before they fall once again on you while Kuroo comes out from his floating position to pace calmly over to you. Then, his sharp teeth split his face wickedly in two, an alluring characteristic in the way his lips form an overconfident grin as he bends over you in your place on the couch. “It’s your body I’m interested in.”

“My… body?”

“Have you ever heard of hell portals?” His face engulfs your line of vision as his tail angles your head back to look up at him, a clawed finger gliding over your jawline at that.

“No? Should I? Who do you think I am to know about hell doors?” It happens again, your thoughts slipping through your lips at the same rate as you think them, the sarcastic tone of your mind also dripping out much as if that had been your intention all along.

He seems rather happy at that, too.You wonder if he’s prying the truth from you somehow. “Well, you’re one.”

“What?” You ask, stupidly, as his face gets further from you and he straightens back into his full height.

“A door, to hell.” Kuroo finishes, cheerfully. It looks, once again, wrong on his face, as if it's more of a threat than a joke.

The seconds pass by as falling rocks over metal, loud and rattling, a restless moment in which you keep staring at the monster --demon-- face and even as his horns stay in place and his curved wings twitch, it stills feels wholly detached from reality; an insane, out of this plane moment in which you doubt your whole being - your eyes and your ears and your brain and your skin, where the weight and warmth of his tail still surrounds your neck.

“Now I know I’m losing my mind.” You murmur to yourself as you can’t make peace between reality and, well, this reality.

“Ah, you humans are such disbelievers. I’m here in front of you, saying you’re a portal, and you still doubt your own eyes as if they’re the origin of your offense.” Kuroo mocks you, crossing his arms in front of his body and for a second your eyes linger on the blackness of his clawed hands, the weird way they’re shaped as if something is enveloping them, elongating claws on the point of his fingers with the color of a moonless night. Still, the acidic tone in his voice makes you perk up with infuriating annoyance, and it seeps from you at the same rate as it fills you.

“Well, sorry if it’s hard for me to believe I’m a fucking hell portal.” You sass him, fiery eyes closing on gold. It’s even more annoying that he smiles through your taunt. “Ten minutes ago I didn’t even believed in hell.”

“You can keep doubting if you want. Aren’t you doing so even when you see me here? All I need is passage and then you’ll be free to doubt once again,” his eyes glow brighter as he closes in on yours in a way that has you swaying in place, a vexatious air around him that’s unmistakable; but then again he is a demon, so maybe that’s just the norm. “That is… if you want.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the promise in his voice, and your own trembles when you ask, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That this can be a one-time thing -- or not.”

You blink, a bit lost.

“What’s this, exactly?” Your brain pulses in pain at the quantity of information it has to make sense and still try to understand. It’s too much and soon you’re pressing your hands on your face in frustration, “Dude, you’re not making sense.”

“It’s easy.” Kuroo says and suddenly you’re yanked up by thin air, floating in front of his fingers at his will as he twirls your body in the air as if you’re some sick kind of roulette. “Inside you, there’s a portal. I’ll activate it, and go to hell. In exchange, I’ll give you something.” As he speaks, clawed hands slowly and maliciously thread over the valley of your breasts and then down your middle, his golden eyes like a lighthouse to your wandering attention. “Something I know you desire, but you may not even know so. May not even accept yourself.” As his fingers approach the appex of your sex, you’re rounded in the air abruptly and set right on your feet in front of him, safe and sound and dizzy, feeling like prey to those eyes. “It may be this single time, or, if you accept my deal, it can be more.”

You breathe some big gulps of air before speaking in a wavering voice, “Something I wish? And you won’t tell me what that would be?”

“Essentially, you know. You just may be in… denial.” His eyes flash that golden glint once again, twirling molten pools of liquid sun on his face. Their constant, slow motion never-ending circles seeping inside your consciousness, making your mind blank, slowly flowing into a haze in which you feel lost but safe; warmth flowing from it over you as if you’re being dipped in melted honey, weighted down but comfortable, as moving against warm waves in a tropic beach.

It tips from your mouth as you’re swimming in the molten pools of gold, pulled out from your body as the warm breath from your lungs, heated and pliant. “Okay.”

The spell crashes as his grin spreads through his face, the self-satisfied smirk of a cat who got its prey. Just as you’re burning in embarrassment and ready to cancel whatever that was you just said yes to, a sudden wave of warmth spreads from your face to your feet, your hair undulating at the force it hits you, and travelling so quickly you can feel the way your toes curve while a buzz crosses them, a pleasant but foreign thrill settling in your bones. You send him a nasty glare.

“The fuck have you done to me?”

“Me? Nothing, kitten.” Kuroo tells you but everything from his expression, to his stance and the fucking satisfied smirk he sports tell you it’s a lie. Your glare turns worse. His lips are curved up in a telling manner but he concedes with a tilt of his head. “I just lowered your inhibitions, relax.”

“Why would you do that?” The questions zap from your mouth just as you think it, and in a fleeting thought you wonder if that isn’t exactly what he meant.

“I told you, I’m going to give you what you want.” Kuroo says as he stops in front of you, a sexy, powerful sway in the way he moves and towers over you that you can’t help but appreciate. “But I need you to accept your darker wishes,” It’s a murmur, raspy in his deep voice, and you breathe the words in as the indecent, luscious feeling swell inside your being and seems to find it’s home in your chest-- and drip from your sex. “And then embrace me.”

“I don’t want you.” You tell him, but it comes breathless, weak, and as Kuroo’s golden eyes pierce yours, you can feel as he pinpoints your lie.

“Then let’s change that, shall we?”

He wastes no time in maneuvering you into his arms, pulling you through thin air until his feral hands close around your middle and neck. Kuroo tilts your head back while grazing a single clawed finger over your pulse-point and up to your jawline, and then his breathing comes loud and misty against your bared skin.

“Wait--” You plead as your breath comes in long puffs and when you wet your lips before continuing, a freakishly long, wet and hot tongue comes to lick a big stripe of your skin and you yelp loudly, “-- the fuck!”

Kuroo, on the other hand, literally hums approvingly and brings his nose to glide over your skin, soft breathing as his hands pull you closer into his massive chest. You realize now, at the proximity, just how big and broad he is, somehow between terrifying and uncanningly acceptable.

His body runs hot, the temperature difference between yours quite clear when your skin feels so heated by his touch, clothes you found nice now feeling constricting the more of you that touches him.

The planes of his chest are hard and toned, lean muscle and strength as he moves you up without effort, your feet dangling way above the ground and still no hint of struggle as he supports your weight. As you get closer, those yellow irises centered in black globes seem to pry inside your mind, big and all encompassing; it makes something coil in your chest, much like panic but tame as agitation.

“Wait--” You breathe out and look down, shocked at the distance you found yourself from the ground. Something crawls from your chest as a distressed groan, “I--”

Kuroo tilts your head back and -- not without sending you a smirk -- delves down to close your lips together.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this -- you’re swept away by the kiss, amazed at how well your mouths work together, how perfectly plush and soft his thin lips feel on yours, how pleasing the motions of his tongue are against yours, how tasteful his movements are, and before long, you’re breaking the kiss but because you need to breathe, to pull some air inside yourself to battle the haze settling in your mind.

It does nothing to aid you though.

Your body feels achingly flushed, avid, weirdly pliant and it is with mild surprise that you feel yourself drooling inside your panties. Something tells you to be indignant, to kick him, to bite and claw, but instead you’re sighing the weakest of noises, spiralling back to his expert lips, falling deeper inside the slow seduction that this demon offers.

Kuroo moves you calmly, his big, searing hot hands threading across your body and working goosebumps in it’s trail even as all he does is touch you over your clothes. Your hands, previously abandoned by the side of your body start to move up his body, spreading your small palms over his chest, and instead of pushing him off, you’re pulling him closer, opening your mouth wider, your legs hiking over his side as if you’re begging for the moment he’ll pick you up.

“Hmm, what a nice little thing you are.” Kuroo murmurs over your lips, taking in the wrecked expression you sport with just a kiss. “So honest, too.” His claws glide over your thigh, hiked on his side. It doesn’t hurt, but the feeling of something sharp sliding against your skin makes your heart rate pick up and your panties grow wetter.

“You’ll like this too, kitten, don’t worry.” His syrupy voice enchants you as he hooks a razor-sharp claw on the side of your shorts, threads up slowly and precise until the ripping sound breaks through your haze. When you look down, your hooded eyes turn wide, taking in the fact he just ripped your shorts and how easily they slide to the ground once they’re free from your hiked leg. The panties stay, but they’re not exactly much.

“Hey!” You turn to look up at him, puffed cheeks in indignation, and one of his hands yanks your head back, angling your body in a arch as his other hand glides over your thigh to your lower belly, sharp thumb swiftly climbing up your body and with such, ripping your comfy t-shirt. The feeling of something scratching along your middle and the valley of your breasts make your breathing catch up on your lungs, too afraid it will press enough to hurt if you move. You never knew a menace could be this seductive.

Still, the anticipation coils inside you, pours from between your legs as your skin feels too small to hold all the feelings cursing to you, your breasts heavy and your lips falling open in a breath that Kuroo drinks from your lips, attentive and dedicated as his tongue comes out and slides over your lips.

His eyes glint in the dark, sharp and focused.

“You know what? I think I’ll like you.”

The air feels cold on your heated skin, especially when he holds you so close. Small trembles pass through your frame as you melt inside his kiss, falling deeper inside the pleasure he offers you and Kuroo barely started. Your nipples perk up without attention and when his rough palm rolls over them, their new-found sensitivity makes it impossible for you to not let out a sound. It’s something meek and surprised, but Kuroo seems proud of it and decided to pull more out of you.

Magically, you’re yanked up, floating until your middle is at the height of his neck.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Your head is millimeters from hitting the ceiling, your hands touching it as a way to protect yourself, you throw a nasty glare down at his face just for him to make a half-circle in the air and your upper body be launched behind.

“No!” You’re laying on thin air -- your heart beating so fast your blood pulses in your head as you look over your shoulder and notices just how impossible is the situation going on, where you’re levitating a few meters from the ground.

If he stops now, would you go down crashing? Would you die from such a fall? Questions swirl in your mind enough for you to forget whats going on - the way a sharp claw swiftly cuts the side of your panties - until something wet, firm and long prods on your dripping folds.

“What--” Your first action is to hitch your neck up so you can confirm that it is what you think it is, and, granted, Kuroo is slowly prying you open, his huge tongue threading on your most sensitive parts. As he laps a long stripe down your pussy, he looks up at you in flashing gold, seeming extremely pleased.

Kuroo winks at you, depraved.

Your blood is rushing through your veins at such a haste that you feel dizzy, and your whole body is fervent as something very loud breaks through your lips as Kuroo’s tongue moves and presses on your slit, circles your clit, and moves in serpentine movements along your puffy cunt.

You didn’t realize before how the texture of his tongue was a bit rugged but now you’re suffering the full extent of its benefits as he eats you out sloppily, enough that you’re dripping down on the carpet as his monstrously long and dexterous tongue plays with your cunt as if that’s his sole mission on earth. Kuroo hums against your clit, makes your whole body tremble with it, and at some point, he manages to press his tongue flat against your clit and still reach enough that it dips softly inside your entrance, slowly and deliciously prying the inner ring of your sex open, then broader.

You can’t help the noises falling from your lips and when one of his rough, clawed hands close around your breast, the pressure inside you peaks and you’re panicking at how close you are to your first orgasm, from his tongue alone, at an impossible long and sentient… demon tongue.

But he retreats just as your mouth falls open, your throat constricted by the scream that instead becomes an indignated gasp. “Fuck--! I was--”

“Hmmm, I know.” Kuroo answers you, his hands coming to hold your thighs open as you tremble from the effort. His thumb pulls your cunt lips apart and his golden eyes glint, fierce and pleased at the same time. “Aren’t you an interesting plaything? Skyrocketing into pleasure head first when I was just getting a taste.” He licks his lips, his canines making an appearance as his ridiculous long tongue cleans his face and chin where your juices have leaked to.

His grin should be illegal. “Delicious, by the way. But I’m not ready to end this so fast.”

“End this… fast?” You ask, still having difficulty in thinking straight when you’re floating up in the air with your legs spread open in front of his face, his thumbs spreading you open as if you’re his meal and he likes to play before eating.

“Maybe we should go somewhere more comfortable.” Kuroo muses out loud and before you can blink you’re falling, screaming in your surprise until you bounce on the comfortable cushion of your bed. The air is knocked out of you in a oof, but Kuroo just looks down at you happily, his smile still looking mischievous as if that’s his whole personality trait.

You know what, maybe it is.

“Warn a girl.” You tell him, and he winks your way, just as he pulls your naked body to the edge of the bed.

“Consider yourself warned: i’m about to eat you up.”

His massive hands engulf you and arch your body into his eager mouth, where his tongue lavish at your sex in a way that has you feeling as if they everywhere and at the same time. The muscle is thick and long, firm as it presses from your entrance to your clit, as it rounds your sensitive spot and slithers down through your pussy lips, slurping it with his lips as his wicked tongue never stops its prodding.

One of his hands circles your body, closes around your breast and tweeks your hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, painfully, deliciously, something obscene curling inside you at the way the feelings mix, the pain and the bliss and it doesn’t help that Kuroo moves his mouth to the sensitive and fragile skin of your inner thighs and build a whole trail of bite marks and throbbing hickeys.

Something firm, large and hot slither up your body, circling a breast but finding it’s home at a circle around your neck -- his tail -- and the more vocal you become, the more it seems to close around your throat, your heart beating on your fingertips as they claw at anything of Kuroo’s you can reach, hazy and breathless at the way he discloses your wicked desires so plainly, the way his every move seems to discover layer after thick layer of temptations that you have hidden so deep with partners before.

“Such a pretty little thing you are,” Kuroo coos to you when he presses a thick finger past the tight ring of your cunt. “So honest and eager,” It moves, prods, another one joins and soon they’re scissoring against your walls, opening your tender flesh so he can sink himself in further.

The mere thought has you moaning out loud -- unbelievable and yet, you feel how your arousal drips from your cunt to your thighs.

“Ahhhh~” Kuroo exhales as his tongue laps a long stripe of your juices. “So pure.” He says against your pussy lips, kissing them and then letting his long tongue slide further until it prods between the cheeks of your ass, immediately falling into circular motions on the furl of muscle. You yelp but midway it becomes an embarrassing moan. “This just makes me wanna ruin you more.”

It’s too much -- he has to know it’s too much, and as Kuroo curves his fingers just right inside your sloppy cunt and his tongue breaches just the tiniest bit the resistance of your ass, your eyes are falling open in huge plates, a long moan of his name on your tongue as you’re so close to cumming you can practically taste the high already.

“No, not now.” Kuroo chastises you as he retreats his tongue and fingers from you, the arch of your body ready to snap curling in a tremble of a denied release.

“Too soon, kitten. I want to savor this.” His tone comes out between pleased and patronizing, and it makes your cunt clench, empty.

You heave, unfocused eyes blinking the wicked golden away. “What--” A deep breath. “What do you want from me?”

“Wrong question, kitten.” Kuroo tells you just as his massive frame bends over you, the wicked eyes seducing you in once again -- not that they ever stopped. “Now that I got a taste,” He murmurs practically against your lips, and you lick where his breath hits, captivated, “I want all of you.”

He lets you fall on the bed once again and maneuvers your body without difficulty until your ass is high in the air and your thighs are spread, his tail lighter around your throat, fondly slithering on your jaw. His knee presses on the mattress until it squeaks and his hands massage from your thighs to your ass, prying it open and kneading it with hard, powerful hands.

“Beautiful.” He praises you and you swear your pussy throbs and flutters hard enough to make a gushing noise. By the way Kuroo snickers, it may be true.

His tongue is the first thing you feel right after his laboured breathing on your cunt. It pries you open, thick muscle sliding inside you, big and wet and dexterous and you’re moaning against the mattress in seconds.

Kuroo seems pleased even though all he does is hum, his large hands press on your back and the other opens your cheeks wide for his assault. Something hot prods your asshole, and you’re surprised at how careful his fingers can be while maneuvering the wetness left by his tongue there. They move slowly but surely as he presses and retreats, opening you from two fronts and still seemingly not enough.

He decides to change, his tongue coming out of your sex and then sliding to your ass as his thumbs open your lips for him to watch as he dips two big fingers inside your cunt. The stretch, the massive pleasure of being assaulted by both ends make you clench and cream around his digits, once again climbing up the familiar euphoric road.

This time, however, Kuroo stops you differently.

His hard, heavy hand falls on your ass cheeks forcefully in what must be his intention of being light. You yelp loudly and groan, somehow caught between winding down and flying right over the edge.

“Oh, hoho~” Sounds from his voice and he descends his hand once again on your ass, heavy and startling. It sounds so loud and so lewd in the empty room, your whole being burns in place, trembling from the effort of holding yourself in all fours and the pure elation growing inside you, spreading from your fingertips to the depraved center of your being.

As the sting settles in your senses, it winds down your orgasm but makes a renewed wave drip from your cunt and down your thigh. You’re surprised at how it excites you, the pain, but fuck it still stings. His hand falls on your ass a couple more times but then his hot palms knead the stinging flesh, an exquisite feeling spreading over you as it throbs and burns and you melt.

“Ugh! Fuck!” You groan, biting the mattress, unable to tell him to stop and too embarrassed to tell him to keep going.

“You really are a nice plaything, aren’t you?” Kuroo asks but it seems as if it's more for himself, his digits collecting your wetness as he dips once again inside your cunt, spreading his fingers apart and sliding a third inside just as his thumb circles your clit lightly and you howl, sensitive and wanton, too eager into tasting bliss.

This time, at least you’re half-conscious he’s not letting you cum. Kuroo stops, leaving you clenching for something, anything and gives you nothing. His immoral smirk seems to sound in the air, much as the way his tail leaves your throat to circle your hair and yank you back, stuffing your open mouth with the fingers that were just inside you. You lap obediently at them and he groans in your ear, teeth nibbling at your skin. It’s almost as if he’s tempted.

“We’re almost ready, kitten.” He tells you with a hoarse voice, all sin and flames, “Hold on.”

“Ready?” You question poorly with a mouth stuffed of fingers, but he understands and nods your way, his tongue licking the spit that starts dripping from the corner of your mouth at how broad his fingers open it.

You don’t see if Kuroo undress or if he just magically gets naked behind you, the startling thing being the incredible feeling of his hot skin on yours, the dazzling feeling of his hard planes of muscle on your back, the sublime sight of his skin marked by faint scars; When you feel the scalding, throbbing thick member at the side of your thigh, however, you have to look back.

“Oh my God,” You murmur at the sight of his cock. It’s proportional to his form, but that just means it’s ridiculously big, a veiny, swollen thing that seems looming as it stands close to you, and it clicks in your slow mind just what he meant by almost ready.

“Nope, I’m on the other team here.” Kuroo grins at you as he turns you with your back on the bed, spreads you on the cushion until your thighs hurt from the effort. His tail sways behind him as if to paint a scene, and you realize his wings are nowhere to be seen now, “Though I do think it’s some kind of poetic justice to have you screaming and blaspheming jesus while I fuck you silly.”

The higher part of your cheekbones alights with flames at the implication and you gasp back the words you planned on speaking when Kuroo’s hand pivots your lower back up to his mouth and closes his efforts on your neglected clit as his freak thick tongue enters you in one go.

You cannot explain the sensation of such a soft muscle invading your walls, or the way in which it seems to focus so expertly on your weak spots, but you’re too wound up not to fall head first into rapture.

When he stops this time, you actually curse him, in the most wrecked sound that has ever left your lips.

“Ughhhhhhh--Fuck you!”

The bastard laughs, debauched, then deposits a kiss over your pussy as his golden eyes fix on you. “Now you’re ready.”

Kuroo adjusts until you’re both at the bed, pulling you up on his powerful thighs until his cock bounces over your navel and reaches way too high for you to actually be calm. But then he retreats his hips, bent over you so his lips can steal the air from your lungs just as his large hand palms at your breasts and his tail slither by your side.

“Try not to cum too fast, kitten.”

“Easier said than done,” you grumble back against his lips and let yourself fall into the ruthless ecstasy of being spread open on his cock. His lips thread on the side of your jaw, under your neck, biting and sucking on your skin as his hands divide themselves between holding you up and pawing at every bit of you they can reach.

Everything feels so good, as if he knows your inner thoughts by hint alone -- your toes curl at each newfound area that receives his onslaught, you’re contorting at how good his mouth feels on your pulsepoint as he slowly starts to sink his cock inside you. It’s a weird feeling, to feel so full and yet still so eager, but you’re welcoming him at each torturous inch he manages to squeeze inside your tight walls. Your body trembles from the effort, Kuroo’s tongue slides from your neck to your nipple as his hand climbs up and settles around your throat, his fingers enveloping your neck.

Your heart picks up enough that you feel it beating on your ears as you search for his eyes and finally you’re pinned in place under the sharp gold and their twisted intent.

“Scream for god if you want me to stop.” Is the warning he gives you before his fingers start constricting around your neck, your airways blocked as your chest starts to heave. And in between the small twinge of anxiousness and alarm, you realize just how much that entices you, how much it makes you burn and crave. Somehow you feel corrupted, falling into desires that threaten to peel you apart and leave you exposed.

Kuroo’s cock keeps slowly stretching your insides and his tongue twirls your nipple, your lungs burning for air and your eyes rolling inside your skull as you skyrocket into blissful free-fall.

“Oh, hell yes.” You listen but don’t register as your body seems to be crushed under the massive pressure of your climax, burning and bright, sound ringing in your head that you come to find out it’s from your hoarse moan, your breathing laboured as Kuroo allows you to suck in air during your peak.

It dawns on you as you’re coming back to your body that theres a twinge of soft pain indicating Kuroo has bottomed out, his muscular thighs pressing flush against yours, the feeling incredible but fuck so much right now.

As Kuroo nestles himself entirely inside of you, you feel as if your focus shifts, the task to not concentrate all of your attention on the massive hot cock spliting you in two is difficult. Your body feels tight, and not just from your fluttering walls that are constricting around him.

Kuroo sends you a big smile above your head, twinkling eyes in the dark. “Now, hold on.”

You do your best to do so, your arms latching onto him with all the strength you can muster as his hips retreat and then slam back inside you. You’re jolted at each push and pull, the sensual motions so depraved as the noises echo in the room, and you’re dragged into the ferocious pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you, and despite the fact you’ve cum just few moments before, as his tail slides between your bodies and circles and pats at your clit, you’re screaming and, quite unbelievably, cumming again.

“Now we’re very ready.” Kuroo says in a grunt above you, shameless grin as his eyes do their golden thing once again. He lets you stop trembling, peppering small kisses along your collarbone until you’re breathing normally again, but something tells you you’re just being fooled.

“What?” You tiredly question, the feeling of dread confirming your suspicion.

“We have the whole night ahead of us, little one.” Kuroo nudges at the side of your face, bites softly at the junction of your jaw. “Or we could have more. All you need to do is say yes and i’ll mark you nice and easy here--” His teeth softly nibble on your pulsepoint, “and you’ll be mine.”

“Oh, god.”

“Haha, wrong again.” His eyes pierce yours, swirling gold as molten honey dripping over your body and weighting your mind down. “Go ahead, tell me what you want.”

It tips out, softly and raw, and you have to close your eyes to hide your emotion. “To belong.”

“Oh, my little thing.” Kuroo softly murmurs on your ear, “Belong to me, then.”

You’re swaying despite lying down, something big and heavy coiling inside your chest as you blink, “I don’t want to belong to someone who isn’t mine.”

It’s a big truth to leave out -- the need for companionship, but a mutual one, a lasting one, a trusting one. You don’t want to be alone, but you also don’t want to have someone who doesn’t belong to you, too.

Kuroo just smiles, golden eyes on yours, melting you from the fierceness alone. “Exactly,” he speaks against your lips, the taste of his breath on your tongue and you eagerly gulp it down, wickedly licking at his lips. “But i’ll be yours, too.”

In your hazed state, that’s all you need to hear, so you just shyly nod -- and Kuroo growls, angles your head to the side, and sears a marking bite on your neck -- deep, and painful. You mewl, body arching into his touch, and his tongue laps at the fresh wound, making it nice and numb.

“Now, let’s go to the main course.” Kuroo gives you no rest, retreating his hips and slamming back inside. “Don’t forget to breathe!” He teases between your moans.

Once the fucking starts, it’s a frantic mess, and it goes on forever until the mere feeling of Kuroo’s cock leaving your heat is enough to make you whimper at the loss. The feeling of him inside your walls, a thing that mingles with your being, seares your memory until you cannot remember the feeling of not being split open on his thick cock. As you melt away from the overstimulation of having no rest while Kuroo contently and incessantly keeps pistoning inside you, your painful pleasure mixes until you’re climbing into something that feels weirdly uncanny, your mind -- or is it your body? -- twirls inside itself as if there’s something more than just sweet release ready to burst out.

Kuroo has made you both teeter on the edge of pleasure and fall into it so many times you can’t differentiate the feelings that come now, this sensation of something being pulled out of you like the many orgasms he caused.

“Hmmm… Yes, my time is coming.” Kuroo groans, his hips movements turning sloppy, apparently displeased with his fucking being cut short while you very much suck a thankful breath at being able to rest. Kuroo’s teeth descend on your neck once again, his hot tongue over the pulsating mark of his bite and you feel him shudder and groan your name as he finally - finally - peaks, the feeling of hot spurts spreading inside you.

As he cums, Kuroo brings a finger to rub over your abused clit softly and between your oversensitivity and the fact he angles his fat cockhead to softly pound over your sweet spot as he sails his own climax, there’s very little you can do but be ripped apart in bliss, once again, by him. This time is weird. Even as pleasure keeps swirling inside you and building up with the eerie sensation, you can do very little but hold on and wait until the waves crash and pass and you can blissfully surrender into the darkness of exhaustion.

However, the freakish sensation twirling inside yourself builds and builds until you’re light-headed from the feeling and you just then realize how you’re shining, and how Kuroo has disappeared.

You don’t even have it in yourself to panic. Your body feels heavy and used, spent in the best way possible, but still completely unused to such a frantic session as every muscle in your being throbs, and your eyelids weigh the world as they fall closed and you’re engulfed by darkness.

[bonus scene]

When you wake up in the morning, you are engulfed in a nice blanket, dressed in some mismatched set of pajamas, feeling as if you just had the best sleep of your life - and a weird vivid dream to go with it. You’re blinking up to your ceiling, stretching on your bed and satisfied with how the knots break in small noises as you sit up, when you feel just how sore you are, how your body is heavy despite satisfied, how your thighs burn and your sex throbs.

Everything crashes up on your mind way too fast, and you’re suddenly torn between passing out and bolting up, but as you try to get up your body falters and a big, hard, hot hand plants itself over your middle and pulls you right back at the bed.

Of course, you scream.

“Shh, kitten, there’s people trying to sleep here, y’know?”

“What--How--What are you doing here?” You shriek, looking at what is definitely the demon you thought you dreamed, but in a way more humanized version if the absence of his horns, claws and massive wings are anything to go by. The golden eyes are sharp as ever, but no black background to them, and you can infer by that much that his sinful tail probably isn't around too.

The grin he sends your way gives you war flashbacks that make your skin prickle with goosebumps.

“Well, yesterday was quite nice.” He tells you and you can feel your whole face burn from his tone alone. “So I decided that hell can wait a bit more while I have more fun with you.” His eyes flash with a weird energy, and Kuroo brings his fingers to glide over his bite mark at your neck. The throbbing mark you had forgotten about until now. “After all, you’re mine now.”

“Oh, fuck.”

You’re doomed.

#kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader smut #kuroo smut #tw monsterfucking #haikyuu smut

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 4

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @justine-en @iwillstaywiththemforever @weirdgirlfromtx @edlothia-baby @soul-end @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy

Author's Note: Some of y'all didn't tag so see if that's something on your end. Enjoy the angst and cliffhanger! -Thorne

Wally didn’t come into the coffee shop for almost two whole months after their fight—not that she blamed him—she was still vaguely upset with his harsh words. But she had to admit that she’d gotten used to his warm presence every morning, and not seeing him messed her up more than she thought it would. More often than not, she found herself absentmindedly staring at the door, waiting for him to walk in with that stupid grin on his face and proceed to boast and recall whatever exciting exploits he and his friends had accomplished earlier. It hurt not to see or hear him, and she realized that Wally had become the greatest friend she’d ever had.

Barry still came in though, and if he knew who she really was, he didn’t say anything because he still acted like he always did. So, even if Wally were still angry with her, at least he’d kept his word and not said anything to anyone about her identity. Which if she were honest, tasted bitter when she thought about the price she paid for his silence—his friendship.

It was getting colder again, which meant a lot more people were coming and going from the shop, so at least she could take her mind off her feelings for at least a few hours. Until she got home, and all she was left with were them and a whole lot of silence to think about them with. Sometimes she thought about calling Wally, at least to hear his voice. Hell, even if their last words to one another were frigid, she missed the interaction. She’d give anything to hear him, even taking another round of cold snipes and trades.

She heaved a sigh and wiped down the last few tables of the evening rush, smiling politely at the people who were still sitting at tables or so across. Today had been hectic and there’d been no let up of customers until the last hour of the shift. She’d never thought they’d run out of coffee, but it came close to that a couple hours ago.

The bell above the door chimed and with her back turned to the entrance, she didn’t see who came in, but with another barista at the counter ready to take the final orders of the evening, she didn’t particularly care. All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed. Sleep until hell froze over. That, or until her feet stopped hurting—whichever came first. She let out a quiet laugh that made her chest ache—Wally would’ve found that absolutely hilarious and probably shot back about how if anyone had the right to complain about their feet hurting, it would be him. God, she really missed Wally.

“Melisandre,” someone called quietly, and she glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening when she saw the familiar red head behind her.

Speak and the Devil will appear.

“Wally,” she breathed, voice thick with shock, and before she could stop herself, she was throwing her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

He returned her hug in fold. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who missed this,” he quipped.

She huffed a laugh and pulled away. “Believe it or not, it doesn’t feel right when you don’t come around.” Her eyes narrowed almost sadly. “I’ve missed seeing you, Wally.”

“Same here,” he replied, then glanced at the clock above the espresso machines. “Are you almost off? I want to take you somewhere.”

Nodding, she took a look at her watch. “I get off in about ten minutes. Can you wait that long, or will you perish from boredom?”

“I think I can survive ten minutes, Melisandre,” he retorted and collapsed into one of the booths. “Hurry though, I don’t want to be late.”

She rolled her eyes and deadpanned, “Wally, I can’t speed time up. That’s not how that works.”

“Works for me.” He proudly stated.

“I wonder why?” she retorted sarcastically, then gave him a smile before wandering off to clean the last tables.

***

Despite the fact that Wally could run anywhere he wanted in less than a second, he still owned a vehicle and that was downright baffling in her opinion.

“Dick got it for me.” He suddenly said, shifting the car into drive and she blinked internally wincing at the mention of her brother.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know you didn’t, (Y/N). But you were thinking it.”

“Uh huh,” she doubted and crossed her arms over her chest. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“Knowing you? Probably food, I know you like to ea—” he dissolved into laughter when she reached over and shoved at his side.

“No, I don’t you ass.”

“Really? Because I distinctly remember the time I took a fry off your basket and you looked at me like I’d killed your favorite dog.” (Y/N) glared at him and he pointed at her. “Yeah, that’s the look right there.”

“I don’t like sharing my food,” she said. “You should’ve known better.” Her eyes drifted to the windshield. “So, where are we going?”

“S.T.A.R. labs.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow and stared at him. “Really? S.T.A.R. labs? What’s there?”

Wally shrugged. “Wanted to show you a bit of what it’s like to be me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean you came to see me after all this time and the first thing we’re doing is going to a lab so you can show my what you do?”

His gaze momentarily darted to hers. “Is that a problem?”

“I dunno, I just figured we’d go eat a diner somewhere and apologize to each other.”

“Are you sorry?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Are you sorry? For all of the last three years?”

“Not particularly,” she griped, and he shrugged again.

“Then I’m not sorry for what we said to each other that night.” he let out a sigh. “But I’m willing to let it go, because I’d rather us just have a disagreement than lose what our friendship over it.” he looked at her. “What do you say?”

(Y/N) stared at him for a long moment, then she sighed and nodded. “…Yeah, I agree.”

Wally smiled. “Good.” He turned the wheel and pulled into the parking lot of the lab. “But there is food there for us, so you’ll be satiated anyways.”

“Hardy har har. Shut up, Wallace West,” she shot back, climbing out of the car. Her eyes traveled up the tall building. “Wow, this place is huge, isn’t it?”

She felt him stand next to her. “Yeah. Did you know they had to replace the glass windows a whole bunch of times because Barry and I kept shattering them when we’d run up ‘em?”

(Y/N) blinked, unsurprisingly stating, “No, I did not. But I can see that happening.”

He started towards the doors, leaving her to follow and soon they were stepping into an elevator. She watched him hit the rooftop button and she looked at him.

“If you’re showing me what you do, why are we going to the roof? Shouldn’t we be going to some laboratory inside?”

Wally chuckled. “Patience, young padawan.” He ignored her rolling eyes. “Food first.”

“Oh, dinner in the moonlight? Well, aren’t you just the romantic.” (Y/N) cocked her elbow on his shoulder and grinned. “Don’t tell me you fell in love with me all that time we spent away from each other?”

This time, he was rolling his eyes. “Hardly, (Y/N). I just figured you’d want a nice evening where you weren’t staring at your bland kitchen walls.”

She scoffed and pulled away from him. “Look, I’d paint and hang shit up but the landlord wouldn’t be happy.”

“Since when do you care about making people happy? You’re typically a ‘I’m going to make someone unhappy’ type of person.” Her eyes shifted to his and he waved a hand. “Not what you’re thinking about—I was talking about the coffee shop.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, then she hummed. “There’s nothing more fun than telling someone I’m going to get the manager and then do my magic little spin and cheerfully greet, ‘Hi, I’m the manager’.” She grinned. “Does wonders to see Karen’s little head explode.”

Wally chuckled and the elevator dinged. The doors split open, and they walked out onto the rooftop. Surprisingly, the roof was enclosed and lighted, giving her perfect vision and when her eyes fell on them, her heart seemed to stop in her chest, and her feet to a halt.

They stood from the table they’d been sitting at and with her heart hammering against her ribcage, she immediately spun on her heel, intent to flee back into the elevator, only to come chest to chest with Wally, who wrapped his arms around her waist—effectively keeping her in place.

Her feet were still moving on their own accord and she shoved against his chest, trying to get back to the lift. “Wally, move.”

“No, (Y/N),” he murmured, and she could feel her breath starting to come in and out in panicked spurts.

“Wally, please, I’m begging you, move.” She stared up at him and plead, “Please don’t make me do this. I’ll do anything, just please let me leave.”

His evergreen eyes were narrowed in pity, but there was a firmness that rested within that pity and he shook his head. “I can’t let you leave, (Y/N).”

“Wally, please,” she begged, arms starting to go limp against his chest, the tears flooding her vision. “Don’t make me do this.”

“You’ve gotta stop running, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her, and she rested her cheek against his chest. “I hate you…so much.”

“I know,” he murmured.

“You’re a liar and I hate you.”

Wally sighed. “I know you do.”

(Y/N)’s face contorted in anger despite her pain. “I should’ve left the night we fought. I knew you wouldn’t be capable of keeping it from him. From any of them,” she sneered and suddenly pulled away from his grip, eyes flashing with rage.

“This wasn’t your right to tell!” she shouted at him and shoved him in the chest. Wally didn’t budge an inch and she shoved him again. “God, I was so naïve to assume you’d keep your fucking mouth shut! That’s one thing you’re not capable of doing!”

She growled and turned from him, running her hands over her face. “Three years of relative peace shot straight down the fucking drain,” she shot him a teary glower. “All because of you and your big bleeding heart for your best friend.”

Wally frowned. “I’m doing what I think is best, (Y/N).”

“Forcing me to meet them isn’t what’s best, Wally! I didn’t want to be found! I didn’t want to be associated with them again!” she snarled and in an instance her anger cooled, her shoulders drooping as she lamented, “…This wasn’t a decision you should’ve made. This was never your right to decide. For me…or for them.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t,” he agreed. “But if you weren’t going to draw the line in the sand, I was.”

(Y/N) met his gaze and held it for a long moment, then she turned her attention to the four men who were standing in front of the table, their expressions a mixture of regret, anger, and relief.

She let out a long sigh and reached up to rub at her temples. “Let me guess, I’m not allowed to leave until we’ve had our picture-perfect reunion scene?”

Wally nodded. “The elevator is sadly,” his hand shot backwards and with a sharp crackle of lightning, the light went out. “out of order.”

(Y/N) shook her head in disappointment at him then declared, “The next time I run, I’m settling in a city that has no superheroes.”

“Good plan,” he quipped. “But I don’t think there’ll be anymore running.”

She got up in his face and hissed, “Then you underestimate my feelings regarding the brothers and father before me.”

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