#pictures titled “kitten

[forgottenflickr]

“Patches” 1997-1999

[mead-iocre]

Pay Attention To Me | Leah Williamson x Reader 

synopsis: do you know what's worse than dating a football player? dating a football fan.

warnings: brief mention of sex

wc: 2.5k words

Sometimes you wonder to yourself what possessed you to date a footballer. You weren’t athletic or sporty, and unlike your athlete brothers, you didn’t enjoy any sport enough to stick to it. Your only means of exercise was pilates and the occasional trip to the beach in your cute bikini. 

So how did you end up dating a professional footballer? 

You found yourself thinking about that question as you sit curled up on one end of the leather sofa browsing the Chanel website on your laptop. On the other end of the sofa, with her legs sprawled out and a beer bottle in one hand, sat your girlfriend. Leah was dressed in a grey hoodie and matching grey joggers; her hair was down, which was a rarity these days due to the heat, streaks of light blonde strands framing her pretty face. From your place on the sofa, you are granted the most breathtaking view of the ocean thanks to the expansive glass walls. The horizon stretches as far as the eye can see; the sky painted in hues of orange, pink, and purple. As the sun begins to set, it casts a golden glow over the water, making the waves glimmer and sparkle.

The villa was gorgeous, and exactly like how the pictures showed it to be. You had chosen the place yourself, tempted by the promises of walking out onto the deck and being able to jump into crystal clear waters. The spacious overwater bungalow features polished wooden floors, high vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, and furnishings in soft, neutral tones complemented by cool-tone vibrant accents. When you showed pictures of the villa to your girlfriend, she took once glance at it and handed you her gold amex card. She didn’t even ask you for the price. 

Back to your own question earlier, the short answer was that Leah was attractive as hell. She was also everything you could ask for in a partner. She's got a cracking sense of humour, she's passionate about her job, family-orientated, and it didn’t hurt that she was the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid eyes on. She made sure to spend as much time with you around her busy schedule. She accepted that you were high-matainance, and gladly indulged you. Leah was the whole package. Sometimes as you lay in bed, when the night is still and quiet, you would take a moment to thank your lucky stars that she walked into your life. 

However, no one in this world is perfect– even someone like Leah Williamson.

Your girlfriend’s biggest flaw was that she is a football player–and by extension– that meant she was a football fan.

And that was the problem. 

Today was the 2024 Euros final. England somehow managed to slither their way to the tournament final and will be facing Spain to compete for the title of Champions of Europe 2024. The original plan was to head over to the Williamson’s house so everyone could watch the game together. However, your birthday happened to fall in the week leading up to the final. As a birthday gift from your very generous girlfriend, Leah had surprised you with a week-long trip to the Maldives. Her only condition was that she gets to watch the Euros final at the villa 

Uninterrupted. 

And being the good girlfriend that you are, you were more than happy to compromise. That is until you realise that Leah has pretty much ignored you the entire day. 

Well– maybe ignore is the wrong term. She was acting the same this morning– ordering a breakfast spread fit for champions by the time you woke up, booking a luxury spa treatment for the both of you at the resort, and even letting you run wild with her card at the nearby mall where there’s a strip of high-end stores with names like Cartier, Vacheron Constantin, and Dior. You came strutting back to the villa in your new pair of Jimmy Choo kitten heels, while Leah trails behind you, her arms full of shopping bags– all of them belonging to you.

However, you were what other people would call clingy. You craved attention and affection more than the usual person. Physical touch was your love language, and most of the time, your girlfriend was more than happy to meet your needs. 

But not today it seems. 

She was far too busy watching a bunch of men on telly chase a ball around a field of freshly cut grass to pay enough attention to you.

Finally getting board of looking at bags and shoes on your laptop, you shut it down and put it aside. Stretching one leg over the length of the cream white sofa, you nudge Leah with your foot. “Lee…”

Without even moving her eyes away from the screen, your girlfriend just hums in reply. Rude.

Another nudge with your freshly manicured toes. “Leah”

Finally he blonde turns to you, grasping your foot with one hand effectively putting an end to your incessant poking. “What, baby?”

“I’m bored” You pout at her. 

“Then watch the game, darling” She tilts her head towards the 85” Samsung TV that is mounted on the wall. Her hand was now lightly massaging your foot and your calves, probably sensing how tense you are. 

You groan in reply, your head falling backwards dramatically. “That's exactly what’s boring me, Lee” 

Leah just smiles, but it’s a bit strained. She just wants to watch the game, and you’re making it hard for her to focus. She’s usually used to your indifference for the sport that she happens to make a career out of. You only "enjoyed" football when your girlfriend was playing. You attended all her matches and would cheer loudly for her when she's on the pitch. Whenever Leah would drag you along with to watch football matches as a spectator with her, you would reluctantly agree– after many kisses and promises of shopping afterwards– and armed with the latest copy of Vogue to pass the time. If she wasn’t on the pitch, you did not care.

You sneak a peek at her, wanting to see if she would indulge you further, but she was already turning her attention back to the TV. Stupid tv. 

You rattle your foot that is still under her hand. You didn’t know where this was coming from but you had enough of being pushed aside for a game of football. “Leah!” 

And that’s when she snaps. 

“Fucking hell– would it kill you to be quiet! Can’t you see I’m trying to watch the match, mate?” She gestures wildly at the tv. Her eye brows were drawn together, the skin between them wrinkled. When she looked at you again, her gaze was intense– piercing almost.

You glare back at her, hoping she can feel your wrath from her peripheral since she has once agin directed her eyes back to the tv. “m’not your mate” 

You huff audibly, snatching your foot back from her grasp. You could feel the annoyance bubbling up inside you. Sure, you had both compromised that Leah gets to spend one day to watch the game uninterrupted. And yes, you did get your girlfriend all to yourself during the last five days, but you couldn’t understand why she was pushing you away like this. You were being selfish, but who wouldn't be when their girlfriend is being uncharacteristically mean about it.

When you were in one of your moods, you had a habit of muttering under your breath when things don't go your way, making scathing, albeit humorous, remarks. It wasn’t long before the sounds of you grumbling under your breath could be heard by your now equally moody girlfriend. 

“bloody football…this was supposed to be a birthday trip yet my girlfriend is spending time watching ugly men kick a ball around…we could’ve been snorkelling and exploring the reefs or having sex on a yacht but nooooooo apparently football is more interesting”

Sometimes Leah found it cute but other times, like today, your grumbling was annoying and it was distracting her from the game. The blonde just wants an hour or two to watch football uninterrupted, yet you can't even give her that. She smacks her hand down hard on the sofa, startling you and putting an end to your angry muttering. Leah turns to you and glares. “If you want to keep grumbling like that go do it somewhere else. You’re actually fucking pissing me off. don't know why I even put up with you” She groans the last bit as she rubs her forehead like you were some sort of nuisance to her.  

That did it. 

You were annoyed at the lack of affection from your girlfriend, and the same person that you wanted attention from was now mad at you. You glare at her right back, but your eyes were starting to water and you were getting the sniffles.

Wrestling the blanket off your lap like you were fighting an alligator, you swing your legs off the sofa, ready to stomp to the room and slam the door like a mature lady when Leah grabs your arm before you can move. “Sorry. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, baby” 

You angrily wipe away a traitorous tear as it slides down your cheek, trying to shake off the blonde’s grip but she holds firm. She moves to stand on her own two feet until she’s standing in front of you. Leah crouches down slightly, forcing your eyes to meet her blue ones. She frowns when she notices your tear stained cheeks. “Darling…hey, look at me, please”

You meet her eyes, albeit reluctantly. She rewards your effort with a kiss on your wet cheek. “I didn’t mean it. Don’t cry, please. You’re breaking my heart, baby” 

“Oyarzabal…Cucurella! 2-1 SPAIN!! Time is running out and Spain are nearly there. Oyarzabal hooks the ball out left to Cucurella, who beats a flagging Walker with a lovely diagonal ball into the box.The substitute is stretching ahead of Stones, having timed his run to perfection in between England's two centre-backs, and slides to put Spain back in front. This might just be it for England…”

Shit.

You head snapped towards the tv in shock, your annoyance disappearing. While you weren't personally rooting for any of the two teams, your English girlfriend was rooting for England so you automatically were rooting for England too. Not that you would ever admit it out loud.

You were anticipating a slew of cursed words from the Milton Keynes native, but her eyes had not left your face once, far too concerned about making sure you were okay. You were her number one priority, always. 

Taking a step closer to her, you rub the sides of her waist lightly. It was your turn to comfort your girlfriend. You hug her, pressing your head against her chest to listen to the rhythmic beating of her heart. It’s soothing and familiar, and any lingering feelings of frustration have completely disappeared. 

“The lads can pull one back” You say to her, peeking at the time running at the left top corner of the screen. Your girlfriend still hasn't said anything and you assume it's because she's sad about the score. “They’ve still got 10 minutes to equalise– plus additional time to play.” Just because you weren’t the biggest football fan out there did not mean you didn’t understand how the sport works. 

“Quit thinking about the match for a minute, baby, I don’t care about them right now. Are you sure you’re okay?” Leah pulls back slightly, cupping your face gently, and you lean into the warmth of her palms. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, Lee. I was just been silly” You pucker your lips up at her, and she grants your request with a grin. She kisses you once, and then again, pecking your lips repeatedly like she can’t get enough of you. 

You give her one more kiss, giving her a sharp bite on her lower lip before you pull away completely. Leah frowns at that, her eyebrows furrowing in displeasure. 

“I’m going to grab my laptop and watch Desperate Housewives out on the hammock. I’ll leave you to your football–alone– so you can focus.”

“What no. Baby, you can’t leave me when we’re one nil down during a Euros final” Leah gestures animatedly at the TV, the scoreline still showing Spain in the lead. “Stay with me. Watch your show right here with me” 

It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

Without waiting for you to reply, Leah began pulling you by the hand back to the sofa. She sat down, tugging you onto her lap. You just laugh, not even bothering to reach for your abandoned laptop on the other side of the sofa. You snuggle into her, your chest pressed together, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. Just because you agreed to stay with her, doesn’t mean you were interested in watching the match. 

A buzzing from the inside of your short’s pocket startles you slightly. You glance at the screen, reading the text, and then gasp. 

“love, my Chanel sales associate is asking me if I’d like to book an appointment at their store to see their new collection! There’s actually a cute bag that I've been thinking about…"

Leah hums, distracted slightly, not even looking at the phone screen that you are practically shoving into her face. “Yeah, we can get your bag once we arrive back home” 

You squeal, already texting your sales associate to go ahead and book you in. 

“–only if England win it” The typing stops and your heart drops. Your celebration cut short. 

“w-what…b-but, love…” You look up at her to see if she was serious, and to your dismay there's not a hint of playfulness in her gaze. She's serious. Glancing back at the screen, you see England have only 5 minutes left to equalise if they want to play for additional time, but the seconds are ticking by quickly. 

Scrambling off your girlfriend’s lap, you take your place beside her on the sofa instead. You have never been more motivated to cheer for a team your girlfriend was not playing for. Mustering all the manifestation in the universe, and your desperate need for that Chanel medium 25cm double flap shoulder bag in pink quilted lambskin leather with silver metal trim, you shout from the top of your voice “C’mon, England!!”

Leah just laughs loudly beside you, yelling and whooping too. 

However, sports can be a cruel thing sometimes.

England did not end up winning the Euros, much to the dismay of your girlfriend— and probably an entire nation. However, you got your bag anyway. Leah could never say no to you. She would give you the entire world if you asked for it, but luckily all you wanted is a pink Chanel bag– for now. 

More spoilt!reader x Leah because you all seem to enjoy her.

I wrote this the day after the Euros and then abandoned it because I got stuck and experience a writer's block halfway lol. Hope it still delivered.

-- kisses, butter.

[sluttycelestialgoddess]

If you give Sylus a Hunter...

Synopsis. Sylus has a lot of fun making you beg.

Pairings. Sylus x reader(MC)

Content. MDNI. edging, fem reader, praise, crying, mentions use of evol, pet names (kitten, sweetie, good girl, etc), AFTERCARE.

Word Count. 2.2k (damn... pretty good for my first story)

Author's Note. Thanks for reading my first story! Let me know what you think, and feel free to leave me requests! I wrote this while listening to 'Be Quiet and Drive' by Deftones. (also, did you like the title... I thought of 'when you give a mouse a cookie' and giggled to myself) xo, Z/Chaos

MDNI BEYOND THIS POINT.

Sylus had you right where he wanted you. His bed. Again. He looked down at you with his usual arrogant smirk as you whimpered and squirmed. His crimson eyes seemed to be lit with that internal glow they had sometimes when he was excited or wanted something. “Now, now, kitten. Spread those pretty thighs for me. You don’t want me to use my evol again, do you?” he purred sardonically, his left eye beginning to actually glow.

You were almost at your wits end. It had been an hour since he grabbed you out of the hallway of his hilariously (or should you say outrageously?) huge home you were attempting to get to know your way around and all but threw you onto his bed, using his evol to hold your hands above your head as he stripped you bare. He was insatiable. You’d been staying with him for four days at this point and already you’ve had more sex than you had in the last 2 years combined. Which, in the grand scheme of things, you guessed wasn’t much considering you dedicated all your time to becoming a Hunter for Linkon City after the rise of wanderer attacks, resulting in a gnarly dry spell… but his hunger for you was bordering on absurd. Even so, you had to ask yourself… Does he ever get tired?

In this hour that he’d had you at his mercy, he’d managed to edge you to the pinnacle of ecstasy no less than five times, never letting you reach that sweet release. You were a shaking, sobbing, whimpering mess, and he loved it. You were half in the mind to use one of the safe words he declared you use on the first night if you ever found yourself not being able to handle something. But your pride was like a gag, not letting your tongue form the word. “Feather”. How fitting, the smug bastard. 

“‘Feather’ will be to stop. You say that and everything stops. We do not continue. There will be no “break and then get back to it”. Saying that means you’re done for the night. So just be sure that’s the one you want to use,” he had told you. At the time you had giggled, thinking it was endearing, thinking back on it now, you wanted to kick him in the face. No way in hell were you uttering the word “feather” while a trembling, whimpering mess. If only you could actually move your legs to kick him, but nope. Useless appendages. 

You realized Sylus was still waiting for you to comply with his request. Finally having an ounce of control over your legs after they had become jelly sometime in the last 20 minutes, you shakily opened your legs to him, a whimper leaving your lips as the cool air in the room met your soaked lips. I could kick him now… but then he’d keep me like this all night. Fucker.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised, not seeing your thoughts, steadily growing fond of the idea of smashing your foot to his face. You internally smiled at your mental picture, but really you were enjoying yourself all things considered. He leaned over to rub soothing circles over your thigh before running a long finger through your sensitive folds. “You remember your safe words, correct?” he asked with a grin and you nodded, glaring daggers. He chuckled and hummed at how wet you’d gotten, and he hadn’t even put his mouth on you. Looking up to watch your reaction, he slipped his finger in, curling slightly to caress over the spot that always made you gasp. You did, and he smiled at the pretty sound, feeling pride at how well he knew your body. However, he was beginning to think he was being just a tad cruel as he watched your eyebrows knit together and the pitiful whimpers run into each other as they exited your lush lips. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know… I’ll let you come soon. Such a good girl… you look fucking delicious right now,” he cooed as he eased a second finger inside you and coated his thumb in your wetness before rubbing circles over your throbbing clit. Goosebumps covered your skin and you whined, your hips bucking up of their own accord. “Mmm, such a needy kitten. Sweetie, I think you could take a couple more, hm?”

You whimpered out unintelligible curses at the remark and he chuckled. “Sylus… I really don’t know if I can,” you say, finally having found your voice in the string of muttered curses and whines. You clenched your eyes closed as he pressed harder on your clit and curled his fingers deeper. That blossoming warmth entered your tummy again. You fluttered around him and he groaned, wanting so badly to see you come apart, but needing it to be while he was inside you so you could milk him for everything he had. 

“Relax, you can handle it,” he chided with a tsk. “I’ve seen you take more than this, sweet girl. You’re stronger than you think. Tell me how badly you want to cum,” he groaned as you clenched harder around him. You were half scared he would pull back and deny you once again, but also half scared he wouldn’t and it would be over. He rubbed at your thighs, admiring how mouthwatering they were coated in your arousal. “Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You felt the tears begin to sting the back of your eyes and you steeled yourself long enough to whisper through your moans, “Please, Sylus. Please let me cum, baby. I’ll do anything, just please…”

“Anything, hm?” he questioned, obvious interest in his tone as he leaned down and sucked lightly on your clit, replacing his thumb. You gasped as he rolled his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your legs shook fiercely and you cried out. Pulling back, fingers and all, he stood over you. The damn tease… His eyes never left yours as he deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, then his pants, rolling them both off and letting them pile on the floor. He leaned down and extended himself over you until your lips met in a passionate kiss. “If you’ll do anything, how about you stay true to your word by cumming around my cock?” he teased as he grabbed it and rubbed it through your slickness. 

“Yes, please,” you sighed against his lips, seeing this as him conceding as long as you came wrapped around him. His lips curved into a dangerous grin at your response, pushing inside with agonizing slowness. He groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, I don’t even need to work it in,” he moaned appreciatively as he drove into you with one powerful thrust, no longer able to torture you with slow pumps. Once he was fully seated, he kissed you tenderly as began to move, rubbing his pelvic bone over your clit with every thrust. You whimpered, feeling the tears fall from your clenched eyes as the warmth began to spread again.

Sylus smiled down at your beautiful face, eyes clenched tight with tears trailing down your cheeks. Perfect… She is so perfect. “So beautiful, baby. You’re trembling. You’re so close, aren’t you, pretty girl?” he rubbed your hair with one hand to soothe you and wiped at your tears with the other. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, so you only answered him through an eager nod and whimpers. “Hm, I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Sylus sped up, needing to see you lose yourself in pleasure. Lose yourself while clenched so tightly around him.

This was his favorite part, of course. After repeatedly bringing you to that edge, but pulling back before you could fall, you would always be so wound up that when the orgasm finally came, it would make you delirious with pleasure. He loved watching you as you finally crashed over the edge he kept you from and your face would contort in utter rapture, crying out his name and clenching so tight around him he’d have no choice but to follow you. He shook his head to focus on the present and ground against you to help you to reach what you’ve been begging him for. 

You whimpered as he gave his permission. You let go, no longer holding yourself back. The warmth in your tummy became an inferno as his thrusts became harder, rubbing your clit with his pelvis and the head of his cock jutting against that sweet spot inside you. You were so close. Just a little more pressure… “Please…” you begged on a needy sob. Sylus kissed you harder as he felt his own release building. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up slightly in his arms, holding you so that you hovered over the bed as he pounded into you, holding you both up with his free hand on the mattress. The new angle had him going impossibly deeper, rubbing your clit against him with an intensity that finally pushed you over the boundary he had carefully pulled you from so many times. Your nails raked over his shoulders as you cried out. “Sylus! Yes!”

“That’s my good girl. Cum all over my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby… so tight,” he praised with a loud groan, rutting up into you as his own orgasm crashed over him. His grunts filled your ears, and it was his previous words coupled with them and his unrelenting ministrations that made your toes curl. Your body convulsed as wave after wave of pure bliss spiraled over your entire body. Your back arched into Sylus as his cum filled you, his thrusts not wavering as his body shook, ensuring he extended your pleasure as long as possible. 

Eventually, your cries subsided into soft, shuddering breaths as the tremors in your body slowly dissipated. Sylus sat back on his heels, holding you tightly the entire time you came down from your high, rubbing his hands down your back as you stayed wrapped around him. When your shaking stopped, he stood up from the bed. You stayed clutched to him as he walked to the washroom and started a bath. Sylus being Sylus, he added in his favorite epsom salts and relaxing bubble bath as the water filled up steadily. 

“My love, are you okay? I’ll hold you all night if you need, but I want to clean you up and take care of you. You did so well, but I know that had to be draining. Let me wash you then I’ll hold you so you can rest,” he whispered, rubbing his hands down your exposed ribs from where your arms were clasped like a restraint around his neck. He could feel your grip wavering and knew you were going to be out like a light as soon as your head laid down on his chest. You relented, loosening your grip in your legs around his waist as he wrapped his arm around your back and the other under your knees to lower you into the water. You sighed as you relaxed into it. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything,” he said and kissed the top of your head. Methodically, he washed your body, almost like he was worshiping. He took care to be gentle around the sensitive junction of your thighs, kissing your shoulder when he lightly passed over it. He took a cup and filled it with water to run over your hair and began to wash it with his shampoo. She’s going to smell like me… he smiled to himself as he massaged your scalp. After washing it out, he combed through your hair with his fingers coated in conditioner. 

Sylus made sure to take extra good care of you after long sessions like the one today, diligently washing you, feeding you, massaging sore areas, or simply holding you so you know how much he loves you. After fully washing you and drying you off, he carried you back to the bed and laid you down among the mass of pillows and plushies you had “adopted” (as you put it). So beautiful... He smiled down at you, showing you all the love and tenderness he held in his heart for you. You smiled back sleepily and reached out for him to join you. He climbed in and gently pulled your head to his chest, rubbing his hand over your thigh in invitation for you to put it over his to rest. 

You snuggled into him as he kissed your head. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered as you felt yourself beginning to drift off. Your speech slurred as sleep dragged you under. Sylus tightened his arms around you, his muscled chest hugging your cheek. 

“I will always take care of you, my love. You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine. I love you, sweetie. Rest.”

[mysicklove]

"Well look at you! Say, "meow", Lord Sukuna!"

Said curse blinks at you a couple of times, before using his hands to touch the white, fluffy cat ears placed on his head. "Is...this what humans do for entertainment? Pretend to be animals? I think it would be more appropriate for you to dress up as cattle, considering-"

"Yes, yes I know, you hate humans, i've heard thousands of times," You cut off, quickly smacking his hand away and fixing the ears. "Now look cute — I am going to take a picture!"

Sukuna doesnt move from his position on the bed, just staring at you with a blank face. He crosses his upper sets of his arms and waits for you to be done, slightly amused by your actions, but not enough to give you the satisfaction of his change in facial expressions. Still, you coo at him and tell him to get in different poses for you, but he just continues to stay in place and stare. You arent very suprised, considering it was rare for him to actually listen to your demands, the stubborn thing.

"You arent acting cute at all," you pout, and Sukuna just shrugs, raising his eyebrows. His lower hands trace the skin on your upper leg, and he continues to watch your antics.

"Have I not been taking care of you appropriately?" He asks, slightly narrowing his eyes. "I give you food, water, and even sex. I thought that is all your species needs to live happily?"

You cock your head to the side, blinking at the way he seemed to be in deep thought. "What are you talking about?"

"Uraume!" Sukuna interupts, pulling you closer until the white ears nearly graze your skin. His servant appears less than five seconds later, walking into the room. "My Lord," they bow, before waiting for a command.

You can see the way they look appalled at the cat ears, and are burning daggers into your skin for daring to put him in something so degrading — your class as a human meant that you were the lowest on the totem poll in Sukuna's domain, but still you managed to have the master of it wrapped around your finger.

"Bring me something from a feline descent."

"Of course, My Lord."

"What? No!" you pipe up, but Uraume is already gone. You turn back to Sukuna who was taking the cat ears off, discarding them at his side. Then he pulls you into your lap, ignoring your struggles.

A large hand pets at your hair and Sukuna says, "You should have asked if you wished for a companion."

You cover your eyes with a groan, pulling gently at the skin on your face. "I dont want a companion, Sukuna," you complain, accidentally dropping his title. But, he doesnt seem to mind, continuing to trace your skin with his palms. "I just thought it would be funny to see you in something cute considering who you are."

He blinks at you for a second, before frowning. "I didnt find it funny."

"Yeah, obviously. The only jokes you find funny are about murdering people. Now look, Uraume is out searching for a kitten."

Sukuna doesnt seem to care, instead picking up the cat ears and asessing them. Then he places it on your head, while you narrow your eyes at him. But, the curse cracks a grin, scanning your face. "You are right, this is entertaining."

A breathless laugh escapes you and you shake your head with a whine of complaint. "This doesnt help the "Sukuna's pet" rumors."

"You are my pet human."

"We are dating."

"You can be my lover and my pet."

You push at his chest in complaint, and he rumbles out a laugh. Then you take off the ears, and put it back onto his head. Suprisingly, he lets them remain there, only looking at you with amusement.

A minute goes by, and you hear a familar voice. "My Lord, the cat as you requested."

You immediately twist your body to look for the kitten, excitement getting the better of you. But, much to your suprise, a full grown tiger stands in the middle of Sukuna's chambers, unusually tame.

Your eyes widen in shock, but Sukuna meerly chuckles, before leaning down to your ear and saying, "Is it cute enough for you? A pet for my pet, how humerous."

And after that, you decide to never bring out the cat ears again. Nor mention anything relating to pets — your pride couldnt take the wicked teasing from your lord.

[starzshopoflove]

Worlds biggest snoop

Soap is nosy as fuck and drags poor Gaz into his nonsense, Ghost just misses you.

Notes: fem reader! sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader, Soap is nosy, drabble! (WC:936)

Okay, it was bound to happen eventually. Simons on deployment and his poor little civilian girlfriend is left all alone in her little bookshop while he's away on base. Of course he told you before he left and, you both made sure to spend plenty of time together on dates (and in bed)

You send him off with plenty of hugs and kisses reminding him to call whenever he has time and not to forget to take care of himself. Simon would probably keep a few photos of you in his gallery in a locked album that he looks at every night before sleeping once he’s called you.

This man is so paranoid, he even changes his wallpaper. It was a photo of you holding a pie you both made together ( he stood on the side reading the instructions while you did all the work bc you were to scared he would mess with the dough, this man has lived off of mre’s and meat his ass can NOT bake) with a little ghost dough shape baked on the top. Now its just a picture of a pile of books with your glasses on the top of the stack. Easy enough to pass off as a nice photo and still something to remind him of you.

He makes sure he has no trace of you on him once he's on base. Save for the one picture he has of you both holding a big bouquet of flowers side by side, he's staring at you stare at the camera like a love sick puppy, while you're smiling so wide your eyes are shut. That's the only thing he will keep on him, if he dies on the field he wants the last thing he sees to be you. Other than that he risks nothing.

Plain clothes that don't have your smell, none of the fancy lotions you’ve forced him to use, none of the little trinkets you slip in his pocket, none of the little letters you've slipped in his bag (He saved those to read when he came back).

Nothing.

But he was bound to fuck up eventually no?

Soap was the first to get nosy. His LT was never this calm or relaxed on deployment. He rushed a little more to get to his office each night. What was even weirder is he would lock the door this time, he never locked the door.

So of course he started taking matters into his own hands. Standing behind Ghost when he was sitting down on his phone, once he even saw him scroll past the locked album. He didn't open it of course. He never opened that unless he was alone, but he scrolled past it and Soap could see the album title.

Your Initial with a heart next to it.

This is when all the bells actually went off in his head. At first he thought Ghost finally went to therapy (LMAO NO) or maybe picked up a hobby (DOUBLE NO), but heart emojis? What on Gods green earth had moved thee Ghost to using a heart emoji

Soap was sticking like glue to Simon, reluctantly he tolerated this. Except of course when 9pm rolled around and he was kicking him out of the office. 

“Come on Lt, what you gettin 'rid ‘f me for? Not like yer gonna wank in the office yeah?” 

“Get out” 

“Aw come on can't spare ya favorite sargent a couple hours to entertain?”

Soap was whining at this point just being an annoying little shit to try and break him.

“Out”

Ghost just dragged him out by the collar like a misbehaved kitten.

Making a show of it Johnny walked down the halls wailing about how Ghost must hate him and that their friendship means nothing, while Simons just watched him tumble around dramatically wrapping his arms around Gaz. 

Once he hears the click of Ghost's office door locking he instantly straightens up, face locked on like he's on a mission and arm wrapped around Gaz like iron. 

Gaz the poor boy, is verily confused watching this interaction, more confused as to why Soap is dragging him to their Lt’s door.

"C’mon”

Soap hisses pressing his ear on the door motioning Kyle to do the same. 

“Fuck is you doing?”

Gaz is looking as Soap like a child who's about to get a shot, lips pursed tightly, eyes narrowed up. Course Johnny just pulls him to press up too.

Price probably just walks past them mumbling some nonsense about kids these days ignoring it, the less he knows the better

The 2 stand there in silence for a good moment until they hear the classic dialing of a number and the shifting of what sounds like Ghost taking off his mask. 

Then, the sound of a woman's voice?

“Well you look awfully tired”

Oh my god Lt’s calling a woman

Your voice is chirpy and bright probably since you’ve got the night shift and had enough sleep to run the shop for the night. You little chitters of how your day went and questions of concern filled the room soothing Simon's nerves of whatever he was worrying about that day. 

Soap and Gaz are jaw slacked behind the door staring at each other listening to this. Lt’s bird chirping through the little phone speaker and him actually replying in full sentences in a soft warm tone they didn't know existed 

The 2 scatter before the call ends giggling to each other, well Soap giggling Gaz trying to process how Lt got a girl before him

[unholyhelbig]

“You’re supposed to be dead.” was so strong felt like you hit me with that sentence I even forgot the title can’t wait for next part!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 4,695

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Sorry for the delay on this one. I promise I'll hit you guys with less tragic backstory and more plot soon! ]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The word sounded foreign to you. Asgardian. The first syllable was doable, the start of something and the end of something in one fail swoop. It was the second syllable that threw you off. Guardian. That wasn’t something you had ever been, nor did you want to be. The two women that frequented your holding cell, now they were guardians.

You were never one of those superhero junkies. Not like the rest of the world. They were infatuated with the Avengers and even more so with the media coverage of them. The main six would do their due diligence and go in for interviews, the occasional ribbon cutting on new Children’s Hospitals.

It was the C and D list heroes that gave you the ultimate ‘ick’. There were reality television shows that highlighted their daily lives and social media accounts that reported on their flings and lack thereof. Of course, they’d home in on the Avengers too, but they circled like vultures, and it was the main reason you had seen the phrase ‘Asgardian’ in the first place.

Thors Summer Body.

Jesus Christ, they called it the Asgardian Abdominal Workout and you had scoffed at the stupid title and graphics on Instagram while you wiped the neon orange Cheeto dust from your fingers onto the front of your shirt.

You didn’t know what they meant for you, but you paced the length of your holding cell while you thought about it. It was day three and you were getting stir crazy. So much so, that when Natasha entered with your lunch for the day, you threw yourself against the glass.

Both of her eyebrows went sky high, grip tightening on the plastic tray. “Whoa, okay. Good afternoon to you too, Kitten.”

“Why do you do that?” You asked.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not intrigued by me.”

She was the only one who hadn’t resulted to the poking and prodding, and endless tests that had been run on you. Of course, Wanda was more likely to stick around for a conversation. She’d spend hours with you, just talking, staring at you while you slept. Your mind had chosen to be a challenge, and that excited her. It was more of an emotion than you pulled from her wife.

Natasha let out a sigh and clicked her way through the passcode. You had half the mind to shove past her, just to get out of this stale air. But, she was the Black Widow, and you knew your odds were slim. So, you stayed put, backing away to give her enough room.

She usually placed the tray on the table and then retreated with less than five words to you. But this time, she closed the door and turned towards you, arms crossed over her chest. The pure strength of her physic intrigued you, made a rosy color bloom against your cheeks.

“I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t.” She sounded out carefully. “Do you know Hawkeye?”

You nodded. He was the guy with the arrows, the only other person on the Avengers that had molded their skills instead of inheriting them. Jenn spoke fondly of him, had helped with a case a few years back that you couldn’t recall. You had been struck by the stomach flu and remember being particularly miffed that you hadn’t gotten to meet him.

“So did Loki. Briefly. He was the first big threat that we encountered as a team and he wormed his way into Clint’s mind, changed him because Clint was mortal, and Loki was a different kind of God. A trickster, and an Asgardian.”

“You’re… afraid of me?”

Natasha laughed and if you hadn’t been so wounded by the noise, you would have found it pleasurable. She closed the distance between you both. She smelled soft, floral. It was different from Wanda and from the nurse who had been in and out, growing bolder the more she worked on you.

“No, sweetie. But don’t be so offended, little intimidates me. I know that like our world, you come from one of your own. One with good guys and bad guys. I just hope that you know which side of the line you fall on.”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t even know who you were, much less if there was some malice deep down in your core. Right now, all you were was restless. While you were a homebody that usually extended to shitty television and greasy snacks. Neither of which was offered here.

Wanda brought you a novel to read, but it was in old English and hurt your head to squint at the words on the yellowed pages. You’d only gotten a quarter of the way through. The rest of your time was spent getting jammed with needles and staring at the blank ceiling.

“Hungry?” Natasha asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Alright then, come on.”

You blinked dumbly at her, narrowing your eyes. This could be some form of sadistic trap, but really, what did you have to lose? You were cooperative thus far. No matter where she led you, it would be better than here.

The floor was startling and cold against your bare feet, your jaw clenching in response to the change that hit your skin. Natasha watched you carefully, two steps in front of you but still with a keen eye.

The two of you took enough turns that you wouldn’t be able to find your way out of the compound, much less back to your holding cell, without her. The walls all looked the same, steel lock protected doors lining either side of the corridors. There were no discerning stock photos to spruce up the place, not even windows. If you knew any better, you would say that you were underground.

The elevator was warmer. Natasha used the keycard on her waist to operate it. You stared down at your feet. They were bruised from your excursion through the cemetery. Your hand reached out to the side of the elevator when it lurched forward, throwing you off your balance.

Natasha reached over and grasped your elbow, keeping you steady. Her warmth was domineering, running through you like a heated iron rod. You decided to change the subject for your own self-preservation. “What are we doing exactly? Because if you’re leading me to my demise, then you owe me a replacement lunch, first.”

She scoffed “Is food all you think about? From what I remember you were wolfing down week-old takeout when we met.”

“It’s not all I think about,”

At least, it didn’t used to be. Lately, you were starving at all times, thinking of your next meal directly after you’d finished your first. It was almost as if you were burning off more calories than you could consume. At first, you figured it was your body’s way to catch up after being buried alive- buried dead- but it persisted.

“uh-huh, you know my wife reads minds, right? Seems like all you think about is food and sex.”

“That’s not, I don’t-“Your cheeks heated up and you covered your face with both of your hands. God, this elevator ride was too long. You would be perfectly content digging another grave and laying in it.

“Relax. I’m teasing you.” She nudged you with her shoulder. “You and me, though, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together these next few days. Fury wants us to run more tests that don’t involve needles and EKG’s. That okay with you, kitten?”

You nodded, tongue officially tied. Each time she called you that, you felt arousal pool in your stomach that was quickly ebbed away by guilt. There was no way that you would allow yourself to be taken by the Black Widow. It was her job to be alluring.

And then there was her wife, the woman that you were equally infatuated with. She had a warmth that emanated from her, but a coldness that could wash over her in an instant. It scared you. It turned you on.

Not only could she hear your less than pure thoughts about Natasha, but she wasn’t shy about letting you know she could. The corner of her lip would quirk up, almost as if she wanted to tease you about the fact and not reprimand you.

The elevator doors opened directly into an atrium that was complete with lush green grass. You flinched, holding your arm in front of you to block out the sudden burst of sun. You’d been imprisoned for the past couple of days, and before that, you were in a different type of prison.

You took a deep breath of the clean air, letting it coat your lungs. Your skin instantly warmed. Natasha didn’t’ push you, instead she let you take in the square building around you. There were tinted windows that jutted out in a hexagon shape from the structure, long hallways that lead to move testing areas, living quarters, you were sure.

“I know you haven’t worked your muscles in a bit, but I have some obstacles for you, if you’re up to the challenge, that is.”

“You kidding? I aced gym. Bring it on.”

Natasha’s wolfish smile did nothing to aide your confidence. She led you into the center of the green and squared her shoulders. You didn’t see any equipment around: no vaulting bars, or weights. It was just the two of you and the nature that surrounded. It was only when she lifted up her hands, curling them into fists, that you truly understood.

The Black Widow wanted you to fight her.

There wasn’t much time to contemplate. She moved like lightening, and though you knew she was going easy on you, the crack against the center of your nose didn’t feel like it. You let out a groan, moving both your hands to your face as warmth gushed from the center.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck!”

“You’re supposed to dodge.”

“You’re supposed to warn me.” You pressed your hands harder against the dripping wound “Oh, I’m going to die.”

Natasha scoffed and let her hands drop from their defensive position. She closed the distance between you and gripped your arm. You refused to budge, making a small noise at the back of your throat. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Move your hand, let me look at it.”

You leveled her with an apprehensive look but eventually conceded. Watery rust was against your palms, wicked into your lifeline that seemed oddly to stretch on for way too long. It had already dried, you were almost hyper-fixated on the blood. On it’s stain.

Natasha was impossibly close, you could feel her exhaling against your collarbone, her hand squeezing your face and pushing your head to the side to get a better look. Her eyebrows creased. You focused on the smattering of freckles against her nose and under her piercing eyes. You hadn’t noticed them in the fluorescents of the facility.

“Mm, well, you can heal on your own. Just like Thor.” She gave your cheek two pats and stepped back. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ,”

Natasha resumed her stance and you held your hand up as if taming a wild animal. As if that would stop her from advancing on you. From this view, you could see the blood that had slotted through your fingers and ran in interconnecting lines. It was almost like a system of roads, each leading to your wrist and drying in a strange pattern. Beautiful. Familiar.

Your hand was tingling viciously and the world around you had started to pulse. You steadied yourself, focused on the grass under your toes. The soil was damp and cold. The sun was hot and harsh. You knew exactly where you were, but the rushing sound past your ears seemed to want to change that.

“Y/n,” You heard Natasha softly. She sounded like she was suspended in air, or you in water. “Y/n, are you alright?”

1893, Chicago World’s Fair

“Miss, are you alright?” His voice filtered through your thoughts. It was smooth and amplified compared to the crowd that flitted around you. Bodies were slotted close together, different scents of spices and crushed florals mixed with the sweat of strangers.

“Yes, of course,” You assured him, seeing the worry drain from his stare. He held his prize in one palm, hard enough to morph the copper back into its original shape. “My apologies. I suppose the heat is getting to me. Please continue, Mr. Damm.”

He gave you a crooked grin. You’d stopped at his booth out of a version of pity. In truth, your eyes had locked with his across the crowded exhibition floor and you couldn’t pull yourself away. He looked like a nice enough man, standing next to a small box that was made of wood.

Glass was bordering the top half, giving the viewer a good look at the inside mechanics. There was a crank that jutted out of the side and a small slot that was in the center of the wooden base. In a room filled with ships, locomotives, and a real moving walkaway, not many people took interest in a simple party trick.

“Have you ever put a penny on a train track, miss?”

“Yes, of course.”

He grinned harder “Well, that’s a good way to lose a limb, if I do say so myself. Now, I have all ten fingers and all ten toes but there are plenty out there who are risking their lives for something that you can now get with convenience. Do you have a penny, miss?”

With heat rising to your cheeks, you fished into the damp area between your breasts and pulled out a coin, making sure it was dry. You couldn’t hide it’s warmth, but the dress you’d chosen to wear on your mothers’ recommendation was much too tight fitting to carry anything in a proper place.

Mr. Damm did not seem to mind, he simply placed the penny into a small slot on the side of the machine. “I’ve spent years crafting a rolling mill that presses designs into soft metals. Not only that, but it elongates them as well. A penny had tremendous value, but wouldn’t you sometimes prefer something more?”

“I suppose I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Ah, well, come here. Crank this lever and watch.”

You glanced at him for reassurance before doing as you were told. It put up more resistance than you were expecting, but eventually you watched two metal rollers press the copper into a longer, oblong shape. You had to admit, it was a cool sight, especially with your ability to control the speed.

Eventually, your coin popped out of the slot in the wood and it looked like anything but the penny you had provided. It was stretched and the words ‘Columbian 1893 exhibition’ were impressed into the metal. He placed it into your palm, still warm from the process.

“Very good, Mr. Damm. But, does it still hold it’s value?”

“Of course, Miss! First thing I made sure of. Though, I suggest you keep this. One day, they’ll be worth millions.” He tucked his thumbs proudly into his suspenders “I’m headed to New York City in a few days to patten this machine, here.”

You returned his smile, words caught in your throat when a hand started against one side of your waist and trailed along your back to rest on the other. The rosewater scent that accompanied Helia. She was a few inches taller than you and hugged you close to her pale form.

There were dark circles under her sunken eyes, her hair a jet black. She often captured the eyes of anyone in the room. But in a room with so many wonders it was hard to notice her among them. People often thought of her as sick. But you knew better. Helia simply mirrored a specter. She was filled with a sharp kindness that was preceded by her excitement.

“Sister, what have you got there?” She plucked the coin from your hand and ran her pale finger over it “Very nice! This is fantastic, sir. Really amazing. I hope you don’t mind if I steal y/n away from you.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Damm gently took your hand and placed a dry kiss on the top of your hand. “It was fantastic to meet you, miss. Enjoy the fair.”

Helia had pulled you away by the waist before you could respond. You wiped the top of your hand against the rough fabric of your dress, suppressing a chill. He was nice enough, an average looking guy. Deep down you knew your mother only let you attend to see if you could attract some type of man.

She’d long ago deemed you feral, her wild-child that held the beauty but none of the grace to settle down with an acceptable husband. You wore Helia’s dress because she would have left you to rot in the hot motel room if you hadn’t at least attempted to look presentable.

“Mother is going to be so upset with you,” You tsked, “pulling me away from a possible suitor.”

“Oh, the inhumanity. We have to hurry. Jorell has been holding the same spot in line for the Ferris Wheel. We simply must join him. I don’t have the patience to wait another day.”

“At least you are one to admit your flaws.”

“Hush, walk faster.”

You felt incredibly stiff in the dress but followed her a quicker pace. Your brother had sacrificed his entire day to make sure the three of you could rise high above the fair. You’d long given up on your own ability to stand in a stretching line and you’d had to keep him waiting even longer.

A light drizzle had begun to fall from wispy grey clouds, instantly cool on your skin. Helia hugged you closer, silently pleading for the ride to still be operational. There was no electricity crackling through the sky, nor a worried look on a single patron’s face.

Jorell waved the two of you over, boots splashing against the cobblestone. His hair was damn, inky and falling into his ghostly stare. His shirt was soaked through at this point, the white outlining the curves and dips of his stature. The strong, protective man that had yet to find a suitor either. Though, mother was much less persistent when it came to her only son.

“Where did you find her?” He smirked.

“Playing with coins.”

“I wasn’t playing with anything. If you must know, a very nice man was giving me a demonstration of his invention.”

Helia nudged him in the ribs, “She took pity on him, like she does all helpless creatures.”

You suppressed a groan. Certainly, you were deemed to softest of the three siblings, though you knew when it was necessary to put a thing out of it’s misery. You’d bring home stray cats and then make excuses for the parasites that were attached to it.

“Come on, we’re next!”

Helia grabbed your hand and gave it an excited squeeze. There were two metal steps leading up to the boarding area. A man stood next to a gally of machinery, and unlike Mr. Damm’s penny pressing box, you couldn’t see inside of it. He held a black umbrella up to protect the panel from the weather.

He grunted out “No single riders, only two to a car. One of you will have to sit this out.”

It would be fair to let Jorrell and Helia take the helm. You weren’t much of a fan of heights anyway, and the diming in your sisters’ eyes at the news was enough to break you. “You two go on ahead.”

“You’re sure?” Jorell asked, lifting a dark eyebrow.

“I’m positive, go! I’ll be waiting right here.”

Maybe you did take too much pity on the beasts around you. They certainly stuttered to find kindness, as did you in moments. But at the base of the worlds first Ferris Wheel you would have done any kindness for the strangers that flitted around you. Especially for your own family.

You watched as they boarded the cart closest to the bottom, the last riders until a chain was slipped across the front, blocking the rest of the patrons. Bad weather. You heard the man mutter, but paid no mind. He certainly wouldn’t let them ride if the conditions were too dangerous.

They grew smaller and smaller as the monolithic machine carried them to the very top of the loop. You craned your neck, having to look away as harder rain blurred your view. It was unladylike to wipe at your eyes, but you hadn’t given a care. Unladylike or not, you’d give anything to see Helia and Jorrell in this moment. Joy swelled in your chest.

Then, the Ferris Wheel lurched to a stop. Strangled cries of shock floated down to you. This must be part of the exhibition. It was a naïve thought, but one that carried you for a moment more of bliss before pure terror. The next noise was grinding metal against metal, shaking that jostled many of the riders.

The speck of Jorrell had slid from his seat, the metal much too slippery from the rain. He held on to the edge, the crowd letting out sounds of distress. One woman screamed. You felt damp and useless, hand covering your mouth.

Helia gripped at the fabric of his shirt desperately trying to keep him afloat. And you believed whole-heartedly, that if the machine hadn’t lurched again, she would have been able to maintain her grip.

New inventions were faulty. They malfunctioned in different conditions. The rain had not been anticipated and neither had the harsh winds that made Chicago damp and freezing. Another sound of metal crunching and a scream that was masked within a sea of people already beginning to plan how to cope with tragedy.

You may have screamed to, but you had a feeling the noise got stuck in your throat. Jorrell had tried to grip the bars on the way down. They bit into his fingers, water making it impossible for him to swim.

He was crushed in an instant between the gears that you could see, and this time, you did cry out. You figured your legs unable to work, knees nearly hitting the cobblestone. In that moment, you thought about how it would dirty your dress.

An arm was there to steady you, grasping onto your elbow and pulling your eyes away from the scene. You were pliable in this moment, unable to question who had grabbed you. There was the scent of metal and strong cologne. They emanated comfort, tucking your head into the small of their neck to pry your eyes away from the mechanical mauling.

“Look away,” Mr. Damms voice was muffled against your ear, filling his chest cavity. “This isn’t something a lady should see, miss.”

The scream tore through your chest with a visceral pain. Your nails were digging into the soft soil, heels pushing against what you could only recognize as grass. You’d come to in a state of fight or flight. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, breath refusing to catch.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright.”

It took you a moment to realize who was in front of you. The world was dripping with color, the rushing sensation fading from your ears. Instead, it was replaced by the sound of birds, the scent of nature, the warmth of the sun. You were still outside, lying on the ground and blinking up at the crystal blue sky. No rain. No water.

Natasha was knelt next to you, a look of worry flooding her expression. She had one hand on your chest, and the other was cupping your cheek. She was checking your vitals, you were sure, because you had most certainly lost consciousness.

“Breathe in for six seconds through your nose. Good… now hold it. Only breathe out through your mouth when I tell you to.”

Your chest had started to ache when she finally gave you the nod to release the air you had greedily drawn in. She stayed with you, repeating the process three more times before you finally felt the blades of grass tickle your palms, the slight breeze touch your skin. Natasha brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear before she flopped back into a sitting position.

“Want to tell me where you just went?”

“Chicago,” You grunted out.

Natasha got this adorable crease between her brows, but she didn’t’ push any further. You squinted up at the clouds and stretched your arm out, enjoying the prickly sensation of the grass.  

“Sometimes… I get these nightmares. Most of the time I don’t remember my dreams but when these happen, they feel so real. Almost like I was there myself, which is impossible because they were decades, centuries ago.”

“What are they like? Your dreams?”

“Volatile. They all follow the same formula. A life that I couldn’t have had, an older brother who dies by water and a younger sister who just… dies. One of them meet a violent end before I can wake up, and they’ve never repeated themselves. It’s just new tragedy after new tragedy.”  

You’d always thought the dreams were weird. But, chalked them up to being related to stress. When you were a kid, it was stress about starting a new school, soccer try-outs or midterms. Then as you got older you pinned it on college admissions and failing the bar twice before submitting to be a paralegal instead.

But then, Jonathan died. Drowning just as every other version of him had.

 You’d never told anyone about the dreams and now you were sounding them out with a near-stranger who you were pretty sure used to be a villain. You’d read that on the back of a cereal box once while it tore up the roof of your mouth with its sugary edges. You didn’t’ put much faith in the trivia.

“That must be scary,”

You pulled yourself up, resting your arms on your knees. You were sure you looked disheveled, but she gazed at you with something of admiration and a recognition of pain.  She’d pulled a blade of grass from the earth and was shredding it in a nervous habit.

“Chicago, huh?”

“The Worlds Fair, actually. I got a penny.”

“Oh?” She gave you a small smile “My, well, aren’t you rich.”

The two of you laughed, a small moment that filled you with content. It seemed to fill the crater that had just opened up in your soul. If it even was your soul to fill. It eventually flickered out, silence washing over you.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Are you going to figure out what’s wrong with me?”

Your voice broke and you were tempted to muffle it with a cough. You didn’t’ want to show weakness. It was a golden rule in your family. The embarrassment of your actions in the dream still lingered on your tongue. Falling into the arms of Mr. Damm and his listless invention.

“Why can’t I die if everyone around me dies too easily?”

You all but whispered the words, and a soft, pitying noise came out of Natasha that you weren’t expecting. She clenched her jaw and unclenched it as if she was afraid to mince her words. There was almost anger, no, frustration, with herself behind her stare.

“Nothing is wrong with you, y/n. According to your bloodwork, you’re extraordinary. Growing stronger and stronger every day. You’re an enigma, even by Asgardian standards. But you’re not impossible to solve. We’ll figure you out.” She glanced down at the grass between her fingers, shredded another green strip. “No one deserves to live with that much pain.”

With a nod, you wiped away the tears that escaped with the base of your palms, careful to avoid looking at the blood. You’d never passed out like that, had a vision, a memory, forced upon you with the pull of a trigger. You didn’t want to risk it.

“Let’s get you a shower, yeah?” She stood and reached out her arm before hoisting you to your feet.

“Are you saying I stink?”

“I thought I was being very direct about the fact. Besides, I may have hit you a little hard, kitten.”

“I knew it!”

She grabbed you by the hand and pulled you along, as if she didn’t trust you on your own feet. Her grip was reminiscent of Helias, strong and consistent and filled with nothing but care. You let her lead you, hoping the blood wasn’t the only thing the shower would wash down the drain.

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[g-xix]

🔞 Supermilker3000 | ArthurTV

Part of [kinktober]

CWs: Sex toys w a partner

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

I wanna say that Arthur's got toys.

You introduced the standard handcuffs into the bedroom, and ironically, Chris introduced the supermilker3000 into your sex life.

It was initially just a joke: Chris bought it over a £10 vs £1000 video, and had you come into the room to react to the present he'd bought Arthur, too. You were shocked and extremely humoured simultaneously, and Arthur's incessant shouts of horror and I'M NEVER USING THIS, THIS IS BARBARIC!  had you creasing for longer than you should've been. Arthur kept it as a little part of his background display - displaying it proudly in a space within his bookshelf between the likes of Darwin and Brontë so that it became an iconic part of his streaming backdrop, from that day onwards... Something which the fans would screenshot and laugh at; a testimony for the chaos of the £10 vs £10,000 videos Chris conducted. 

It just so happened, however, that one night after a little bit of drinking, Arthur and yourself returned back to the bedroom with an interesting thought - telling him to lie down on the bed before taking the thing out of it's packaging and crawling over to him on the mattress. "What the hell have you got that for?" Arthur asked, slightly cautious initially. You laughed a little at his horror, but consoled him with a pat on the thigh  and: "C'mon, I jus' wanna try something - surely you've wondered what it feels like - you can tap out if you don't like it, please, I just wanna see what it's like..." 

Arthur grudgingly agreed, mainly just agreeing under the pretences that you'd stop when he asked, but also - unbeknown to you - a little bit of interest for how it really would feel. Finding the switch, you fitted the tube around Arthur's length first, watching as Arthur squirmed almost uncomfortably at the initial sensation - a mix of pleasure from the lubricated silicon, and discomfort from the coolness of the material around his cock. You waited until he seemed settled before flicking the switch onto the lowest setting, watching as Arthur gasped - a slight convulsion within his centre, breathing heavily as his hands reached to grab fingerfuls of the blanket around him. "You want me to stop?" You asked, finger already poised atop the off button, ready to stop it in case it was too much for Arthur - yet he shook his head with eyes closed, shocking you at his resilience initially - though continuing to shock you even more as you watched his head roll back, slightest of moans dropping from his lips as he bucked his hips up slightly, clearly enjoying the stimulation. 

And it was fair to say that you were in awe, yet enjoying it just as much - moving your hand up and down with it a little bit, stimulating all his shaft and watching as you broke the mind of the man in front of you. His breathing started quickening, hands quivering around the fistfuls of blanket he held onto, and with one devious kitten-lick to his tip whilst the supermilker3000 worked on the base - Arthur's orgasm-moan was music to your ears - watching as he climaxed, white dribbling from his tip and down his shaft as you upped the vibration speed, powering him through his orgasm and milking him for every drop.

Positive result? You'd found a new way to spice up your sex life.

...Negative result? Scrolling through Twitter about a week later, your timeline featured a few pictures of Arthur's stream set up with a circle behind his head - second picture zoomed in and honing in on the iconic Supermilker3000 box, which was now quite clearly opened and lidless.

Fair to say that you and Arthur both received a myriad of incredulous messages from Chris the next day, asking for a synopsis of whathefuckHAPPENEDHAHA as well as being tagged in a variety of pictures from fans which had you only slightly regretting being so complacent, that night.

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

Hope that title was a jumpscare lol 💀... Just working on an ATV NSFW alphabet atm n thought the "toys" section was worthy of it's own little teaser oneshot (do lmk any thoughts we have on this one ;)

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[ghostbeam]

swore i could feel you through the walls | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Dabi knows that he can’t leave you now. You belong to him, and he belongs to you, and the stars knew before either of you did. And Dabi can’t argue with fate, or destiny, or pure dumb luck, not that he wants to. He pulls your comforter up over his body. He’ll be here when you come home to him. In a place made for staying, Dabi thinks he will.

Notes: hiiiiii so this is an idea that has been bouncing around my head for like. Literal years ajsjsjsjs It’s always kind of been more of a horror idea and then I fanficified it and now it’s this! This was kind of a process and I rewrote and replanned and went over this over and over again but I think it is at a place that I am mildly happy with. It’s a completely ridiculous idea and I’m honestly a little insecure about it but fuck it!! Thanks for reading hope u enjoy<3 (title from Chinese satellite by Phoebe bridgers) listen to the playlist here!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader, explicit content, yandere!dabi, stalking, Dabi hides in readers house without her knowledge, some paranoia, psychological abuse, slight yandere!reader, mentions of somnophillia but no actual instances of it, violence, non-consensual voyeurism (Dabi watches reader masturbate), unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, marking, biting (shoulder, neck), painplay, one mention of carving names into skin with no instance of it, mentions of blood (reader bites dabi’s neck and draws blood), use of good girl, mutual obsession

Words: 9.3k

He can’t breathe. 

Dabi runs from the low-ranked hero, surprisingly fast on his tail as the distance between the two becomes smaller and smaller. With his lungs burning, his skin irritated from quirk use, and the lack of help from his peers, Dabi realizes that he needs to find a way to lose the ice quirk user that is quickly gaining on him. 

Turning down a narrow alleyway, he’s disappointed to find that it’s a dead end. He pauses to catch his breath, keeping himself tucked tightly against the shadowy wall. Dabi surveys his surroundings, finding nothing but garbage before he looks up. He’s against an apartment building, he realizes, looking at the lights in the windows above him. 

All windows are lit except one.

Dabi doesn’t have the time to wonder about the owner, shaking his head and forcing himself up the fire escape, preparing himself to use his quirk if it comes down to it. He breaks the lock on the darkened window and shuffles inside. He falls over a stack of books that sits underneath the window, freezing on the floor as he listens for any movement throughout the walls. When he hears nothing, he stands from the floor and closes the window, creeping down the hall in search of the other rooms. There’s one bathroom and a bedroom with no one inside, and relief rushes over Dabi as he feels his shoulders relax.

Assuming you won’t be home for a while, Dabi makes his way back to the main room, turns the light on, and heads for the kitchen. He looks through your fridge for something to eat, pulling out a Tupperware of leftovers that he heats in the microwave. As he waits for the seconds to pass, he looks around the apartment. 

It sets in, then, how lived in the place is, shelves full of books, records and DVDs, art and photos against the walls, leaving almost no space for the blankness underneath. The kitchen is pink, he realizes, looking around and eyeing the various knickknacks shaped like mushrooms or kittens, unique magnets hang a mess of papers on the fridge beside post-it notes of reminders. 

He wants to hate it. It’s a complete mess, chaotic even, but he can’t bring himself to. He’s intrigued now. He ignores the beeping of the microwave and steps away from the kitchen, observing the various pictures on the walls. It’s not difficult to find the owner of the apartment, the face showing up in a multitude of snapshots. Your face.

As he looks at the walls, he finds himself stuck on you, the curve of your jaw, your lips, your eyes. You make his heart beat in his chest, excitement bubbling at the realization that he is standing in your home, in your space, right in the middle of your entire life. 

You’re beautiful. He feels his stomach drop.

The more he explores, the more he seems to like you. The Sargent print on your wall, the Rilke in your bookshelf, the numerous albums in your collection that he knows nothing about. He flips through the pages of your books, smiling at your annotations, the ink between the pages, and the tiny star you draw next to your favorite passages. He runs his fingers across the words over and over again, committing them to memory, the need to love the things you love burning in his chest. 

It’s not enough, he realizes, looking through just this room. He stalks down the hallway and turns the light to your bedroom on. And oh, how content he feels in here, a room clearly much more personal than the one out there. It’s a bit of a mess, with clothes on the floor and the bed like you’d changed out of many different outfits before leaving. The full-length mirror against your wall is peppered with postcards and pictures from magazines and those same post-it notes: call mom, pay the phone bill, need more cotton pads. So, you’re forgetful. Dabi smiles at the knowledge. 

There are string lights of stars hanging on your ceiling and lamps in the shape of flowers on your bedside table. Your bed is unmade and you have sheets with scatters of constellations on them. Your affinity for stars makes him smile, one more thing he’s found in common with you. 

It shocks him how interested he is in you, in all of the things that make up your little life. But the more he explores, the more he’s sure you’re made for him.

He looks through your closet, through your dresser, stuck rummaging through your underwear drawer. Every set of lingerie you have is some variation of blue, and Dabi can’t help but feel as though it’s for him. It’s all for him, your things, you. Fate, or the universe, or luck itself is on his side. He pockets a pair of panties that closely resembles his eyes before turning to your desk. More post-it notes are stuck to the surface, and there’s a notebook that he reaches for before your wall catches his eye. There are more photos, haphazardly taped up and not at all as organized as your living room, but he can tell they’re important to you: family photos, people he recognizes from films, rock singers, and—him. 

Dabi is on your wall.

The photo is one that went viral a couple of months back when he got into an altercation with one of the top ten heroes. He remembers the fight well because of how large his flames grew, and the damage that he did to the surrounding area, to the people, to the hero he was up against. He’s stood with his arms out in front of him, neon flames emanating from his palms as the moment in battle is frozen in time forever on your wall. You printed it out on photo paper and everything. He plucks it from its spot and turns it over. Your handwriting with his name and a heart is scrawled on the blank space. He runs a thumb over the heart, feeling his face warm up.

This isn't a mistake. You know who he is, and you’re a fan, not just of the photo itself, but of him. He wonders if you’re one of those weirdos he’s seen online with accounts dedicated to him, one of the anonymous boxes that engage in discussions about his quirk and identity, losers grasping at any detail they can that might bring them closer to the truth, or just to him in general.

But the more he thinks about it, the more excited he gets, thinking about you saving blurry pictures of his fights to your phone, watching youtube videos of him with shitty quality, and tweeting about him with stupid little emojis. He wonders if you dream of him, if you think of him while touching yourself, or if you fantasize about silly things like being a villain’s girlfriend. He likes thinking of you like this, just as obsessed with him as he’s becoming with you. 

Dabi doesn’t care what it’s called: divine intervention, cosmic love, soulmates. All are true; none capture how this feels. 

Your laptop is password protected and his name doesn’t work when he tries, so he moves on from your bedroom. Entering your bathroom, he looks through your medicine cabinet, analyzing your meds and products as he searches for every bit of information he can. He looks at the lipstick that sits on the counter and debates putting it on in the form of an indirect kiss but decides to pocket it instead. He sprays each and every one of your perfumes, deciding which is his favorite, and throwing the one he dislikes out the window he came through, watching it shatter against the cement.

He pulls back the shower curtain and begins to strip, turning the water on and letting the heat hit his worn-out body. He hasn’t felt water pressure this good in years. He uses your shampoo, your conditioner, your rose-scented soap, even though it’s sure to irritate his scars. He uses everything he can to be close to you, to smell like you, to have any piece of you even though you’re not here. 

When he’s done, he lays in your bed, against the sheets that you occupy every night except tonight, and stares up at the string lights above him. He picks up the stuffed bear with angel wings that sits against one of your pillows, caressing the ears between two fingers. He thinks about you, about the things he doesn’t know, details you don’t have plastered to your walls or hidden between pages of poetry books. He wants to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, how you’d look undone beneath him.

Dabi knows that he can’t leave you now. You belong to him, and he belongs to you, and the stars knew before either of you did. And Dabi can’t argue with fate, or destiny, or pure dumb luck, not that he wants to. He pulls your comforter up over his body. He’ll be here when you come home to him. In a place made for staying, Dabi thinks he will. 

He can finally breathe. 

…

The keys to your apartment chime against your door as you move to unlock it, hoards of keychains rattling against each other as you push the heavy door open. It slams shut behind you and you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter, hauling your suitcase behind you. The familiar pang of loneliness hits you immediately as you look out over your crowded apartment. 

“I’m home.” You mutter softly, running your fingers over the plush fabric of your couch. 

No matter how much you try to distract yourself with books and posters and comfortable shag carpets, you still feel the same each time you come home to emptiness.

You roll your suitcase to your bedroom, deciding that unpacking is a job for the you of the future while the you of the present deserves to sink into the couch and watch tv. Your unmade bed catches your eye and you wonder if you’d forgotten to tidy up before you left to visit your mother. You don’t dwell on it, dragging your tired body to your couch and turning on your television. You flip through multiple channels before a name on the news catches your attention: Dabi.

Your obsession with the cremation villain seemingly happened overnight. The League of Villains had intrigued you due to their mission to dismantle hero society, a cause that resonated with you as a quirkless citizen. When Dabi joined the group, you were immediately interested in the aloof and mysterious fire quirk-user. You never stood a chance. You spent hours on message boards, gathering any and all information on the group as you could in order to feel closer to him. Your adoration never made much sense to those you talked to online with the lack of information available about the man. But as the League grew in popularity, details about Dabi became far more accessible to the general public. His true identity remained a mystery but two things you were certain of: his quirk came with a drawback in the form of his own body and fire got him excited. 

And now, the news anchor on your television was relaying the news that he had been seen around your neighborhood and still hadn’t been found. You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest, excitement bubbling up as you think about the prospect of catching a glimpse of him in real life. Realistically, you know there’s no way that Dabi stuck around here, understanding the risks of staying in one place for too long as a wanted criminal, but the thought makes your stomach flip. You lean back against your couch, clutching the remote in one hand and letting out an excited giggle. For a moment, you’re grateful for the emptiness of your apartment, your embarrassing display of excitement only witnessed by you and you alone. 

You spend a few hours on LOV fan accounts and forums, hoping to find out any more details about the news, but most people online say it’s not worth looking into. Much like you thought, Dabi was most likely far away from your place by now.

Finding nothing, you stand up from your couch, stretching your arms above your head as you make your way to your bathroom. You turn on the shower and allow it to heat up as you find something to sleep in. When you return, you strip and step into the shower. Your mind wanders toward thoughts of Dabi as you stand underneath the water. You’re disappointed. The one weekend you leave town, the love of your life visits your building. The endless push and pull is frustrating. 

It’s something that’s happened to you time and time again, coming across the aftermath of an attack, or arriving somewhere that Dabi was rumored to have been seen. You keep missing him by mere seconds, and this is no different, though you aren’t exactly sure what you would do if you ever got a chance. 

After finishing up, you step out of the shower, take a towel from the hook on the wall and dry yourself off. You change into your clothes and reach towards your medicine cabinet before pausing. Drawn in the steam on the mirror is a heart. You stare at it, examining it closely. Had you drawn on the mirror the last time you showered? When was the last time you cleaned the mirror? You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a loud bang coming from your living room. 

Without thinking, you rush towards the sound, spotting the door to your hallway closet slamming shut. You freeze where you stand at the end of the hallway, weighing your options before deciding you don’t have much time to think about it. Bolting to your kitchen, you pick up a large knife from its block, before carefully making your way back to your closet. With the knife in one hand, you turn the knob to the door, pulling it open in a hurry and holding the blade in front of you. You’re met with nothing but your own things, coats, and dresses that you never wear, a closet full of items left unused. Even when you push through the racks of clothes, you find nothing. 

Relief washes over you at the knowledge that you are in fact here alone. You lower the knife, allowing yourself to breathe as you calm down. You stare down at the weapon in your hand, scoffing. 

“What was I going to do with this?” You speak out loud. Even if somebody was in your home, could you really defend yourself? You’re quirkless, you aren’t trained in any sort of self-defense, and you’re not even sure you’d have the guts to actually stab someone. You shake your head, walking to your kitchen to put it back. 

You retreat to your bedroom, pulling back the covers of your unmade bed, clutching your bear in one arm, and staring up at the ceiling. 

Inside of your hallway closet, up against the wall, Dabi’s shoulders relax. He imagines you with your knife outside of the door, the scared expression on your face, one he could only see from in between your coat and the wall. Your eyebrows pinched up and your eyes wide, your bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. He takes pride in being the reason for that look. He pulls away from the wall, carefully sliding out of the closet and shutting the door behind him. He looks down the hallway, toward the door that you’ve left ajar. He wants to sneak in, watch your chest rise and fall, caress your cheek, and feel you lean into his touch, but he knows you're more than likely awake, still shaken up from his antics. 

He’ll be back tomorrow, anyway.

…

The encounters continue into the rest of the week. Doors creak open and things fall from shelves. You hear noises late into the night and find more hearts left on reflective surfaces, your mirrors, your television, your windows. 

With no sign of another living thing inside of your home with you, the only explanation you have left to give yourself is something paranormal, even if you aren’t sure of it yourself. 

And besides, you kind of like the idea of living with a ghost. This one seems to be in love with you. 

On top of all of the hearts, your ghost has knocked off books of love poems from your bookshelves, blasted Linger by The Cranberries from your speakers, and flipped through television channels to land on one playing In the Mood for Love. And when you fall asleep at night, just as you can feel yourself crossing the boundary between sleep and awake, you swear you can feel your bed dip beside you. 

You don’t hate it, and you aren’t scared, and sometimes it is comforting to know that you aren’t as alone as you always believed you would be. 

Dabi watches you most days. He watches you nap on your couch and laugh at your cell phone. He watches you parade around your home in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt. He watches you concentrate on the novels you like to read, where a crease forms between your eyebrows as your eyes fly across the page. He watches you talk to yourself about anything and everything, about work, about television shows you enjoy, about him. 

He likes that you’re a complete mess in the morning, that you can barely keep yourself upright, let alone keep your eyes open while you brush your teeth. He likes that you spray the perfume he decided was his favorite all that time ago before you leave for the day. He likes that you sometimes switch between multiple different albums before settling on the one you like. He likes to watch you dance to them. He likes that he’s never heard of them before. He likes you. 

You’re a natural result of loneliness, much like he is. But where you filled your void with material things, stuff, Dabi left his empty and allowed it to grow. He would have thought it was foolish, the idea of filling that hole in him with anything other than anger and hurt, thoughts of revenge. Had he not fallen for you, maybe he would have hated you. The two had always felt so similar. 

You’re happy with him here, he notices, much happier than you had been that first night. You talk to him, your ghost. You ask him about the shows you watch, his opinion on your favorite albums, what shoes to wear to work. He’s a part of your life through knocks on the walls and highlighted lines in between the pages of your books and soft touches in the middle of the night. 

Dabi holds it all close to his Molotov heart and hopes that the ruin is worth it. 

…

You fall asleep almost immediately, exhausted from your busy day, one spent without your ghost. Dabi sneaks in late, caught up with league business for the past couple of days, and he misses you. 

He stares at your sleeping form against the night sky that is your sheets. He feels himself relax at the sight of you, realizing just how much it affects him to be away from you for too long. He takes his boots off at your bedroom door and walks in long strides toward you. He cups your cheek in one hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone, smiling at how you subconsciously lean into his touch.

Dabi moves to the other side of your bed, sliding in beside you. He does nothing but stare at the back of your head for a few minutes, gathering the courage to reach out and touch. He wants to hold you. He wants to do more than just lay beside you and listen to you breathe. 

He runs a hand up your arm, dragging his fingers against your skin. He wraps an arm around your midsection and pulls flush against his chest, feeling your body relax in his hold. He sneaks a hand up your sleep shirt and thumbs over the soft flesh of your stomach. Your hair smells like lavender shampoo, and it makes him nostalgic for that first night. 

A sudden sinking feeling settles in his stomach as he breathes you in, the guilt of barging into your life and bothering you to the point of delusion makes Dabi feel ill. You’re important to him now in a much deeper way than you were at the beginning. He doesn’t want to hurt you, at least not like this. 

“Dabi…” Your voice is soft, starry with sleep. He freezes against you. Your voice comes again, “Dabi.”

“It’s me, baby.” He whispers against your ear, unsure of just how awake you are.

“You’re so warm…Dabi…” You trail off, dragging the last syllable of his name. Your voice is so soft, breathy as you talk through sleep. He can feel his pants tighten at the sound from your lips. Fuck. He can’t stay here, not when you sound so sweet.

He could fuck you. He wants to. He’s not even sure you’d wake up. He’d pull pretty little moans from your throat, slotting himself between your thighs and sliding into you. You’d already be wet for him, and he’d watch your hands ball into little fists in your sleep. You’d chant his name like a prayer. He’d come deep inside of you and leave you to wake up the next morning with the evidence between your legs.

But he does not fuck you. He places a kiss to the side of your neck and pulls away from you despite the whine you let out as he detaches his body from yours. He leaves with every intention of never coming back. His ruin might be worth it, but yours isn’t. 

…

The lack of paranormal activity in your home is alarming, which is something you never thought you’d ever think about. Your ghost has been gone for weeks, and you’re afraid that you may have made it all up in your head. 

This possibility is one you dread, mainly because it has everything to do with your own sanity. If you had been imagining each event, drawing hearts in your mirrors, underlining passages in your books, and forgetting about it, you know that something has gone completely wrong. And you can’t blame it on anything outside of yourself. 

The idea that you’ve been pushed this far, that your own loneliness has you creating imaginary instances of a haunting, terrifies you. What terrifies you more is that you miss him and that you’re alone again. 

But you can’t think about it, or you know you’ll go insane, more so than you possibly already are. So you bury yourself in fuzzy blankets, and you play sad albums on your speaker, and you scroll through the same forums that comfort you in times like these. 

You know it’s pathetic, pining for someone who doesn’t know you exist, someone completely and wholly evil for all you know. A man you aren’t even sure has a heart. 

You think yours may be enough for the both of you, though.

Darkness falls over your living room in what feels like a matter of minutes, though you know it’s been hours since you first picked up your phone. Your record player has been playing the same scratchy hum that signifies the end of one side of an album. You lift your eyes from your phone screen to one of your living room windows, the one with the drawn heart in the bottom corner that you can’t bring yourself to clean off. You let your phone fall to your chest as you stare up at your ceiling and sigh. 

Your heart is a greedy, hungry thing and your mind is a tool to feed it. Through daydreams and delusion, through want, want, want. You can hide from the isolation for a while, but the pain always catches up. And tonight it hurts.

You fall onto your bed with a thud, and your phone drops beside you. There’s a dull ache underneath your skin, one all too familiar and unwanted by you. Why had he left you? His absence haunts you more than his presence ever did. 

Your phone buzzes against your sheets, a notification from one of the discussion sites you frequent lights up the screen, the subject being Dabi and the recent sightings in the city. The ache subsides. 

It’s a video of him, maybe the clearest one you’ve ever seen. He’s alone, and he’s talking to someone, or a bunch of someones, other villains. You can’t make out the words, but you can tell they’re not pretty by the way the men start to close in on him. The smile that crosses Dabi’s face is razor sharp, deadly, reaching up to his crazed eyes. You gasp when he knocks his head against one of the men’s noses. Another one punches him square in the jaw for it, and he stumbles back, touching a finger to the seam in his face. Dabi isn’t a fighter, not with his fists at least, and you’re wondering why he’s letting them get away with this. He goes to punch one of them but misses, and while he’s distracted by his own move, one of the men sends a kick to his stomach. You hear him groan before laughing, his head hanging low as he clutches the place he was hit. 

You feel hot suddenly, touching your face with your palm. You watch Dabi raise his head slowly, his laugh low and maniacal and unbelievably sexy. He licks the corner of his mouth before his hands spark with blue flames. He hurls his fire toward the men without a second thought, and that’s when the video ends. You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding against your chest. You squeeze your thighs together as you restart the video. 

It’s embarrassing how much it turns you on, watching him grin at these men, holding their life in his hands. You like watching him do more than just wield his quirk, watching his head crack against the man’s nose, watching his fist fly through the air. Something has to be wrong with you, you’re sure of it, but you can’t focus on anything but Dabi and his hands. The way that they’d feel against your skin, how they’d feel in your mouth, how they’d feel pressing your hips into your mattress. You slide your hand down your body and underneath the band of your sleep shorts. You’re already wet.

Dabi climbs through your window, the one branded with his fingerprinted heart, the window that allowed him into your life all those weeks ago. Your lights are off, and he can’t see your figure asleep on the couch in the darkness, so you must be asleep. 

He promised himself he wouldn’t come back, promised you he wouldn’t. But it hurts without you, and the ache grows, the wanting. The fucking wanting.

He tried to bury it like he does everything else, tried to burn it to ash, drink it to death, beat it out of him. He’d let those guys get in a couple of good punches tonight just to feel something. Nothing works.

But you do. 

He takes careful steps down the hallway when he hears your voice. He freezes. You’re moaning. He feels his breath catch in his chest. Of all of the days spent watching you, Dabi has never seen you like this. Desperate, aching, calling his name.

He watches you through your cracked door, spread out on your bed with your phone clutched tightly in one hand. You’re no longer watching whatever was on your screen, but you’ve left it playing as you arch against your bed. 

“Dabi…” You mewl. He has to grab the door frame to keep himself steady at the sound. “W-want it.”

Fuck. How could he possibly leave you now? He palms himself through his jeans, watching you bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. He’s so hard that he might pass out. The puffs of air that fall from your lips as your legs shake have him holding back a groan. It isn’t until your noises become quiet that he realizes just what you’re watching. 

The sound of his own laugh echoes through the speaker on your phone, and he’s surprised by the pained moan that falls from your lips at the sound. 

It’s him. You’re watching him. Dabi holds back a groan. He’s careful to free himself from his pants without a sound, not that you would notice. You’re far too gone to acknowledge him right now. He could probably let out the noises that beg to be free of his throat, but he doesn’t risk it. He can’t do anything that could stop him from watching you come for him. 

Your hand is obstructed by your sleep shorts, and the same can be said for the hand that has now discarded your phone onto the pillow beside your head and reached underneath your shirt to pinch one of your pert nipples. You’re close now, and so is he, barely able to keep his breathing steady as he strokes his hand against his cock. 

He’d give anything to barge in now, pull you toward the edge of the bed, and sink into you without a care in the world. He wants to feel you tight around him, wants to kiss your neck and bite your skin and leave traces of himself everywhere. He wants to show you that you’re his, confirm what you’ve always known. 

But instead he watches you writhe against your bed with his name falling from your lips. “Dabi–fuck! Gonna–”

You come with a loud cry, hips twitching a way that has Dabi cursing under his breath. He spills into his hand immediately after, reaching for your wall to hold himself up as he tries to keep quiet. But when his hand meets the hard surface of the wall, it collapses out from underneath, realization dawning on him that he’s pushed your bedroom door shut with a harsh slam. 

At the sound of your door, you jolt up from your bed, the ecstasy of your orgasm quickly wearing off as you freeze. You listen for any other noises, and when you hear nothing, you slowly creep from your bed. Looking around your bedroom for some kind of weapon to protect yourself, you feel yourself growing panicked when you realize you have nothing. You tiptoe to your bedroom door, pushing your ear against the surface to listen to any sign of life on the other side. You hear nothing. 

With your heart beating out of your chest, you slowly pull the door open, sticking your head out and looking down your dark hallway. There’s nobody there, and you wonder if this was yet another paranormal encounter after weeks of nothing. 

A sinking feeling in your gut tells you that there’s nothing paranormal at all about your experiences. 

You walk back to your bed in a daze, tucking yourself back under the covers and staring out your bedroom window. The video of Dabi continues to play on your phone, and you make no move to shut it off. You fall asleep to the sound, his crazed laughter somehow comforting to you in this moment. 

The sinking feeling doesn’t leave you the next morning, and there’s no sign of another human in your apartment as you check all of your windows and doors. It all makes you feel uneasy, the creeping suspicion that it’s all in your head. You’re completely alone. You have no one to confide in, and even if you did, you’re sure they’d think you're insane or an idiot for allowing any of it to go on for so long without question. 

You have no clue what to do or where to start, but you want whatever it is, ghost or not, gone. 

…

The idea is ridiculous. You know that. 

You know, standing in your living room with the ouija board you’ve just purchased sitting on your coffee table, that you are being completely ridiculous. 

“If this works, then great. Then ghosts are real.” You speak aloud to nothing. “Then I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.”

Your eyes flitter to the bottle of raspberry wine you bought on your way home, something you know is sweet and easy to drink quickly. You’ll finish the bottle in no time. You reach for it, pouring a good amount into your glass and taking a large gulp. You hold the glass to your chest, breathing in and shivering at the cool sensation against your skin. The board sits on the table, and you let out a chuckle of disbelief. 

Dabi stares at you from the darkness of your hallway. He’s been in your home since before you arrived with your children’s game and your sugary wine. You’ve been on edge for days, and Dabi knows he has everything to do with it. Still, he watches you quietly, taking in the last moments of invisibility before he has to tell you. 

You’re still staring at the board. You take another gulp of your wine and look out of the window that he climbed through. The strap of your spaghetti strap tank top is falling down. He thinks of the painting that hangs on your wall. You’re Sargent’s Madame X. He’s going to ruin your life.

“They sell those things in toy stores, you know.” He finally speaks. It all happens in slow motion: the quick jolt of your shoulders in surprise at the sound, your glass falling to the floor and shattering against your carpet, the scream that falls from your lips. 

Then suddenly, you’re looking at him, and he is looking at you, and your hand is frozen in mid-air like the glass is still in your hand. He looks down at the mess, “Shame. That ugly carpet was kind of growing on me.”

“Dabi…” Realization dawns on your face as you say his name. He looks up at you again, before turning his attention back to the mess on your carpet. He holds an arm out and beckons you toward him. 

“C’mere. You’ll cut yourself.” He tells you. You don’t move. He watches your chest rise and fall, frozen where you stand, unable to think about anything other than getting away. He watches your eyes flicker to your front door. 

It happens quickly, nothing like before, climbing over your couch and rushing as fast as you can toward your escape. He almost loses you, tripping over his feet as he reaches for you. You barely touch the handle before his arm wraps around your waist in a tight grip. You’re both panting, his breath hot against your ear. 

“What? You aren’t excited to see me?” He questions. It’s not like he expected you to accept him with open arms, but he didn’t think you’d run from him. 

“It was you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. How are you meant to feel about any of this? It’s what you wanted, right? All the times you missed each other, all those days spent disappointed that you weren’t just a little earlier or a little later. And here he is, in your home, with you, with his arms wrapped around you, no less. And you want to run? What bothers you the most is that you aren’t as scared as you should be.

“Your ghost?” He questions with humor in his words. You feel his grip tighten around you before he speaks again. “Are you disappointed?”

His voice is much softer than he intended it to be, nervousness finding its way through the mask of carelessness he so carefully hides behind. It calms your nerves, the idea that he’s just as unsure of this as you are. 

“I’m scared.” You admit. 

“Of me?” 

“I don’t know yet.” You say. He loosens his grip, arms falling to his sides as he lets you go. You step away quickly, turning to look at him while keeping a good amount of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m not–I won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He speaks, holding his hands up. “I would never–”

“Why?” Looking at him, standing in your kitchen, his hands up in surrender, his eyes pleading, Dabi is just a man. You know this, you’ve always known this. It’s why your obsession with him is as strong as it is because, underneath all of the flames, he’s alone just like you are. 

“Because you’re mine.” He sighs because he knows he must sound insane, and his answer doesn’t seem to soothe the worried look on your face. “And you know it. You do, because I’m on your fucking walls, and you stalk me like a little weirdo on your phone. You–you’re made for me.”

“Made for you?” You ask incredulously as if this isn’t the exact moment you’ve been fantasizing about since the first time you ever laid eyes on the flame user. 

“Look, I didn’t think any of it was real, none of that soulmate shit people make up so that they have something to hold onto. But, fuck, I had never felt the way I did when I climbed through your window that night.” He speaks frantically like he’s trying to convince you, prove to you that what he’s saying is the truth. “You saved me, and you don’t even know it.”

You soften, “I saved you?”

“None of this would've happened if things had gone a little differently that night. I wouldn’t know you, and you could go back to your normal life with your pictures and your books and your forums, but it didn’t so I’m here. And isn’t that something?”

“I’m just…confused.” You explain. “You’re you, and I’m sure you’ve gathered by now how embarrassingly obsessed with you I am–”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why?” He questions, leaning forward. “Does it get you all hot and bothered like that night with the video of me getting my ass kicked? That was cause of you, by the way.”

“You have to understand how fucked this is. You get that, right?” You aren’t afraid anymore. You’re angry, a little hurt, but most of all excited. Made for him. He’s probably right. 

“Yeah?” He questions, taking another step. You do back away, but he continues to follow you. “I think you like it. I think your life was so goddamn boring before me, so lonely. My little tricks made you so happy, baby.”

“Fuck you.” You spit, because he’s right, and you hate it. His hand comes up to hold your jaw with one hand, his fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly. 

“C’mon…” He tuts, leaning down to your height, “You used to be so sweet for me, snuggling up to me while you slept. You can’t hide from me. I know everything about you. And those feelings that you have for me don’t change in a matter of minutes just because I did something fucked up. I’m a villain, sweetheart, and you know it.”

“So what?” You ask. “You’re in love with me or something?” 

You want to hear him say it. You want him to tell you it’s more than obsession, more than the excitement of scaring you. 

“It’s not obvious?” He asks, releasing your jaw from his tight grip and running his thumb against your cheek to soothe you. “You ruin me.”

You shake your head, “Say it.”

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do. 

It shouldn’t feel as romantic as it does. With him pushing your hips into your kitchen counter, his lips so soft against yours, you forget all of it. None of it matters to you, anyways. Maybe it’s the worst way for any of this to happen. Maybe it’s the only way.

He pulls away, watching your eyes flutter open, your lips swollen from his kiss. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and you’re touching his face without a hint of disgust. You’ve always been his. He surges forward, catching you off guard and pulling you into another kiss, this one much more hurried and desperate. You gasp when he presses into you, the growing bulge in his jeans hard against your thigh. He takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, earning a choked whine from your lips. You struggle to keep up with him, with his hands everywhere. You’re overwhelmed. 

“Dabi, wait.” You speak for the split second that he pulls away. He shakes his head, kissing down your jaw as you try to catch your breath.

“Can’t.” He speaks in between kisses. “You’re–I need you. Please, please, I’m–”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, pulling him away from your neck to look at you. “Dabi. Hey.”

“Hi.” He speaks, unable to resist the urge to press his lips to yours in a quick peck before pulling away again. It makes you smile, though, so he does it one more time. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted me?”

“I think there is something very, very wrong with me.” You say because you have to acknowledge it, at the very least. You want him so bad it burns. 

“Yeah, me too.” He kisses you again. “Made for me, remember?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “maybe I am.”

“You are.” He says against your lips. “You are, you are, you are.”

You’re in your bedroom before you have any time to think about it, your back against your sheets as Dabi hovers over you. He pauses, his frantic movements from moments ago now at a standstill as he stares down at you. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You speak without hesitance. 

“Yeah?” He slots his hips in between yours, running a hand up the side of one of your thighs as you make room for him. “All mine, huh? Gonna let me keep you?”

“Uh huh.” You nod. “You can keep me.”

“Good.” He drags his lips down the column of your neck. “My girl’s so good for me, yeah?”

You’re unable to answer, though you don’t know if you’re supposed to. His hands move from your hips to your backside, grinding you against his length. You gasp, grasping his shoulders for stability as he sucks on your neck.

“Gotta mark you up, baby.” He speaks against your skin. He sucks your skin harshly, biting and nipping different areas of your neck. It’s a sensation you’ve never experienced, all your senses heightened at the knowledge that it’s him who’s touching you. “Show them who you belong to, show them you’re mine.”

“Please!” You whine, arching your back into him as he bites down, hard, on the juncture of your neck. You feel him smile against your skin, kissing over the bite. He begins to lower himself down your body, kissing down the valley of your breasts over your top. He pushes your shirt up as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your stomach. 

“Maybe I’ll carve my name right here, yeah?” He questions, lips against your hip. “You can do the same to me.”

When his eyes flicker up to yours, you feel your breath catch in your throat. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, every silly little fantasy you’ve ever had come true. “You’d want that? My name?”

“Fuck, of course, I would.” He groans, pushing himself back up to eye level with you. His hands rest on the mattress on each side of your head, his eyes searching your face. “Want you all over me. I want you forever.”

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him down to you in a bruising kiss. Pushing at his chest, you hook your leg around his waist to switch positions, straddling his lap as your tongue swirls in his mouth. You pull away to look at him, his eyes blown wide with need. He’s so fucking beautiful. You want him forever, too.

You rise to a sitting position, Dabi’s hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as you stare down at him. You push his shirt up and he pulls it over his head in seconds. You run your hands over his chest and abdomen, feeling his scars and the staples that hold him together under your fingertips. 

“I think I wanna mark you too.” You speak, leaning down to kiss him again. “Want you to be mine.”

“I am yours.” He speaks without hesitation. He sucks in a harsh breath when your lips meet the unscarred skin of the left side of his chest. You place soft kisses there before biting down. He cries out, bucking his hips up into yours. “I’ll give you–fuck–everything.”

You continue to leave marks over his skin, satisfied with the noises you're pulling from Dabi. You run your fingers over his hips lightly. You think you would like your name there. Dabi takes the hem of your shirt between his fingers, urging you to pull the fabric from your body. He rises from his position on the bed, running a hand up the length of your spine as he pulls you close. He kisses you once more, moving his hands to your hips to help you grind down on him. 

Pulling away, he trails his lips down your neck, burying his face in your chest. He wraps his lips around your nipple, tweaking the other between his fingers as he looks up at you. You cry out, rapidly grinding against him. He continues to play with your chest, kissing you with fervor and groaning into your mouth. 

“C’mere.” He speaks against your lips, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving to lay you down on the bed. He hovers over you, slowly pushing his hips against yours in a way that makes you cry out. “Gonna take care of you, okay?”

He slowly makes his way down your body, slipping his fingers underneath the band of your pants and pulling them down along with your underwear. You push your knees together, staring up at him as shakes his head. 

“Don’t hide.” He commands softly, pulling your thighs apart. His tongue peaks through his lips for a moment before he speaks again. “Been thinking about this since that night. M’sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to slam the door.”

He runs his hands up your thighs, eyeing your sex as he lowers himself back down. You let out a breathy laugh, “you didn’t?”

“No.” He chuckles against the inside of your thigh, kissing your skin. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, my god.” You giggle, cut off by the feeling of his teeth sinking into your thigh. You gasp, trying to pull away, but his grip on you is tight. He kisses over the mark, eyes finding yours with a warning. 

He licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, and you throw your head back, resting your hand on top of his head before he pulls back. 

“Look at me.” He speaks, bringing one hand up to run a finger through your folds. You’re already a complete mess, and he feels pride in knowing he’s the reason. He’s always the reason. “Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You nod, wiggling your hips to urge him to continue. He chuckles softly at your desperation before burying his face between your legs again. His tongue runs along your folds in long slow strokes, your hips jolting at the stimulation. No research, or video, or fantasy you had about the man between your legs could have ever prepared you for what this feels like. 

Your moans spur him on as he tastes you, the knowledge that he’s the reason for your pleasure more rewarding than anything else. He wraps his lips around your clit and you cry his name. You feel your orgasm building as he continues to lap up your juices, his grip on your thighs tight as he holds you open for him. 

“Dabi! Dabi! I’m–” you let out a strangled moan as you grind your hips against his tongue, “fuck–coming! I’m coming.”

Your hips jolt at the pleasure, the feeling of his mouth still on your sex guiding you through your orgasm. He slows his strokes, running the flat of his tongue against you as you calm yourself. The movement of your hips slow as you watch Dabi still buried between your legs. You catch your breath as he tongues your cunt, cerulean eyes staring up at you as you twitch from the overstimulation. He pulls away from your sex with a wet smack, rising to capture your lips with his. 

He pulls away, “call me Touya.”

“Huh?” You ask, chasing his lips again. He kisses you slow and deep, his tongue swirling against yours as he pushes his hips against yours. You groan against his mouth.

“Touya. It’s my name.” He says, placing soft kisses against your jaw. “My real name.”

Touya. His name is Touya. You know Dabi’s real name. You get to say his real name, keep that knowledge locked inside of your heart, a secret between the two of you. The reveal makes you feel closer to him, an equal exchange for all of the time he spent inside of your home without your knowledge, though you know it’s really not. You’ll take it, anyways.

“Where’d you go, baby?” He whispers against your lips. “Did the obsessed little freak inside you get excited?”

“Says you.” You scoff. 

“Made for each other, right?” He speaks before kissing you again. The kiss is hungry, frantic as his lips consume yours. He fumbles with the studded belt around his waist, pulling away from you only to rid himself of his jeans. 

His cock is hard against your entrance, the warmth of him overwhelming as he shifts his hips over yours. He runs his hands up the outside of your thighs, rough hands smoothing over your flesh while he kisses you again. You whimper against his lips, a silent plea for him to do more than grind against you. 

“Shhh, let me–wanna remember this.” He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, running the head through your folds as you try to keep your breathing steady. “Gonna take my time with you.”

Touya leans down to kiss your neck, sucking over the already tender marks he left before, hoping to keep them there for longer, the evidence of him on your skin in the ache he leaves behind. You pant as he continues to grind his hips against yours, arching your back and pushing yourself closer to him as he continues his assault on your neck. Pulling away, he lines himself up with your entrance, staring down at you just inches away from your face. 

“Kiss me.” He speaks. “Kiss me, please.”

When you kiss him, he sinks into you, swallowing your moans with his lips and slipping his tongue into your mouth as he stretches you. You catch your breath as he pulls away, adjusting to the size of him as he slowly pumps in and out of you. 

“Touya.” You breathe, your hands running through his hair as he pushes into you deeper. A contented smile falls across his face as he feels you move your hips against his. “Feels–mm–good.”

“Yeah? Good. S’all I want. Just want you to feel good.” He says as his hips slowly begin to change pace. Maybe it’s the fact he spent weeks scaring you into delusion, or the fact that he can’t get the way you look when you come out of his head, but your pleasure has become his ultimate goal. He wants to watch you come undone again and again on his cock, disregarding his own needs as you're pushed over the edge over and over. He thinks he’d like you to use him, but for now, Touya wants to take care of you. 

He speeds his pace up, gripping your hips in his rough hands as he pounds into you. He’s getting carried away, you realize, as his hold becomes bruising, his kiss, starved. It all feels so good with his hands all over you and his lips so desperate. He needs you and he doesn’t hide it, and with every action, Touya shows you just how much.

“It’s so much! Too much!” Not enough, you think. You cry out as he presses into you deep, pushing in and out of you with long slow strokes, his cock hitting just the spot that has you seeing stars. He groans, feeling you clench around him as he moves. 

“Take it.” He commands, thrusting into you. “I know you can. You’re so–fuck–good for me.”

You whine, arching into him and pulling him down for another sloppy kiss. He can’t get enough of you, and you’re completely his. He’ll keep you. He’ll take you with him, make a little villain out of you, keep you nice and fucked out on his cock forever. All of his plans, his goals, the one thing he’s worked toward since becoming Dabi, now include you. You have a real role in his life, one that’s meant to stay, one that means forever. 

You’re close. He can tell, and he feels himself being brought to the edge just as quickly as you are. His pace quickens as he thrusts in and out of you, bringing one hand to your lips, feeling you suck two fingers into your mouth before he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. You gasp, burying your face in his neck and biting down. You’ve drawn blood, Touya thinks, feeling the pain spread from the wound. He groans, thrusting harder and faster.

“Fuck, s-sorry!” You cry, though your words are hurried and jumbled.

“Don’t apologize, baby.” He tells you, panting above you. He runs his thumb against your bottom lip, a faint trace of blood smeared across the inside. He smiles, kissing you and reveling in the faint taste of copper. “You wanted to mark me.”

“Touya, I’m–hah–gonna come!” You cry, moving your hips against his frantically. 

“I know, I know.” He coos, swiping his fingers over your puffy clit. “Come for me. Wanna see it.”

Your voice comes out loud and chokes, the end of his name dying on your lips as your hips jolt from the pleasure and your back arches against your sheets. Touya doesn’t stop thrusting, chasing his own orgasm as he watches your face contort in the same way it had before.

“Need to fill you up. Need to make you mine.” He groans, thrusting quickly. 

“I’m yours, I’m yours. Please! I wanna feel it!” You whine. You feel him spill inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he slows his pace. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him against you. He kisses you again, tongues swirling against each other as he stills on top of you. 

“Stay.” You breathe, pulling away from his lips and feeling his head fall against you. 

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” He whispers through labored breath. “So don’t try.”

“Never. You said you’d keep me.” You remind him, feeling him smile against your skin. He rises from where he lays, staring down at you with nothing but adoration. You really are made for him. Cosmic love, divine intervention, soulmates. Touya should have known.

“Always.” He kisses your lips, your nose, both of your cheeks. 

“Say it.” You command softly. 

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do. 

[tamtuliko]

Tyme, dear, revenger Tyme.

As we are heading to the end, we must talk about Tyme. Now that we saw the real timeline and have a prove how messed and fucked up Great is, we must take a look in Tyme's life.

Look, I'm not saying that Great is a bad person, he is not, he is broken, neglected, lost child who has problems with his emotions, he is rich kid whose family members are assholes and his choice of friends need to be questioned, but again Rich, spoiled kids are sticking together right? Title is rich, spoiled, wicked as well, killed his classmate, locked his girlfriend, and I don't think that it's his first time, as well as Great's. They have done many bad things, but remember what Tyme said: depends on how rich you are, you can get away even with murdering someone, even if it was an accident. So, no, guys, Great is not good or bad, Great is a tragic child.

But I want to talk about Tyme. Let's see what we have:

•dead perents

•grandmother with whom he has strong bond

•Girlfriend - ex, but they've been together pretty long, right? She said Tyme had changed in the last two years.

•friend - s.

My wild guess is that, two years ago, before the real-time line, Tyme found out how his parents were killed, finding the diary his mother wrote. We have seen pictures of him and his mother, alive, innocent, and happy. I think even after his parents' death, he and his grandmother were happy. The old lady did say that she wanted to see Happy Tyme again, that he was happy before. Even if they didn't have money, they still had each other, Tyme was getting his doctor degree, he had a strong relationship with a beautiful girl and had friends. So Tyme was happy, he was not alone. Until he finds the diary and all the hell breaks. I guess he started his search and planned the revenge. With this, he lost interest in other things. His happiness was lost, and his whole life became an idea of revenge.

This is the Tyme me meet. We have not seen happy, carefree, having girlfriend Tyme. We see anger, no emotional strings, cold Tyme, the one who has no interest in his girlfriend, she broke up, and he was standing drinking coffee.

I mean, look at him ,he gives no fuck.

And then an opportunity, a golden one appears in front of him, kind of God itself send him gift. BTW this is the gift:

Fucked up son of his enemy. And the whole plan was born in his pretty head. Let's seduce, fuck him, film it and put it out on porn site. Tyme, darling you said you did your search about Great, tf you thought he would care about anything. Here is Tymes first mistake. He doesn't get Great at all. He doesn't know how wicked this kid was. But he learned.

And Tyme went and forgot all human side of himself. Went straight to Great and seduce him (btw his pick-up lines in every timeline are garbage, dude seriously🤣)

So they fucked, and the way it was shown, we can see that even it is for revenge, they both very much enjoy it. If Tyme didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't be caressing Great's body. It's a simple anatomy. If you don't like or feel anything towards someone, you won't get a turn-on. What we saw is that both of them are turned on beyond belief. They fuck (not make love, like Great's timeline). Tyme filmed it and here, he had second thoughts about posting it. We see how he is fighting to himself and the morals he once had. But then he sees the photograph, bright, alive, happy, and he goes with his revenge.

And here he miscalculated another thing again, Great, who he thought, will never appear in front of him appears and chases after him, like lost puppy/kitten , he is.

See Tyme ignored Great with not answering him, but Great, the brat he is goes after him. I guess that D was good, but he is intrigued. Someone was able to stand up his father. Even his mom, Korn they obey his father, but we've got Tyme who did something crazy and Great is interested. Again, it doesn't make him a good person. So they go on dinner, and here Tyme sees it, understands it: he was wrong about Great. Look at his face:

The disbelief in his eyes. He is like wtf kid.

Tyme, with all his glory plan, understands the small mistake: Great can't be controlled, can't be used, because he doesn't care. And he understands the tragedy of this child, because he is child, he was brave to come and find Tyme, when he was told to go home if he doesn't want to eat in cheap place, he didn't, he said that he will eat, he cant even eat spicy food and yet, just to be near Tyme, to have more time with him, Great choose to eat it. This is a child who doesn't want to be left alone, who is lonely and doesn't know how to be a normal human being, cause around him there are no people with morals.

And Tyme does what Tyme can do, leaves Great, cause he can't be responsible for Great, he can't deal with Great, for Great it is a game, for Tyme it is revenge and his life on line. Nans life, his grandmother's life. For Great: just a game, where he will enjoy a good fuck and make his dads life miserable, but the same the cure of his loneliness.

So Tyme leaves. Without looking back.

See, Tyme is not a good person, but again, he is not bad either. Tyme is also a very tragic character, a person who couldn't move on. He is supposed to be a doctor, saving life, and must have morals. Yet we have a doctor, with not many emotions, trying to be a doctor for money, and not happy at all. The irony, right? He must be saving life's, instead he is losing one's.

Tyme is tragic because he can't save Nan, and he does blame himself, but all anger he takes out on Great. And yes, Great could've saved Nan, but he is a coward and didn't, but Great saved Tyme. Because he is genuinely interested in Tyme, he is emotionally connected (onesided) with him. So he couldn't stand Tymes' death. We saw that he had no problems with other people dying. He developed feelings, and Tyme might be bad with plans, but I think he knows about Greats one-sided interest in him (not love).

Here is one thing I liked in Tyme, instead of using that one-sided interest, he did one right thing, showed Great his own cowardence. Told him how weak he is. They said awful things to each other. Great telling Tyme to go die, Tyme telling Great that he deserves to go to hell.

See, they are not good at all, but they are not bad either.

The society they live in is garbage. And they are tragic characters who could've saved each other. Instead, they will be the end of each other.

I don't know what can be more tragic than this.

Two souls, trying their hard to live, but....

Well, they are gonna die, there is no doubt. I just hope they can find their ways to each other, forgive each other. In the end, we are all humans. We can learn on our own mistakes. And try and live our life without regrets. There might be no second chance.

We are still going to see Tymes regrets, his and Greats cardiac arrest is going same time, so they are gonna meet again, they are going to have their own 4 minutes, and one of them will be saved and another will die, or both of them will be dying moving to another life. My brain is on 🔥.

My bet is on Tymes' death. He did see door opening and light. Typical afterlife entrance. But again, this drama is not a typical one, so two more weeks...

P.S

They are giving me butterflies 🦋

[en-vys]

xiao - ciao, xiao! .~+*+~.

summary : what happens when you aren’t around when xiao’s heat strikes? what do you imagine he’ll do… and the lengths he’ll take just to feel better.

content & warning : masturbation, pillow humping, needy!xiao, needy, dirty dreams, FEMreader -sorry- ,

a/n : THIS ISNT THE ANGST ⚠️ i spelled xiao as ciao awhile ago so i thought about it as a title and thought of a category and context 😭

“XIAO! i’m gonna leave soon. ms. ningguang is going to be here soon to pick me up.” you yell to the adeptus, whom was upstairs sobbing. you jogged up the stairs to see why he wasn’t responding. “alatus? sweetie? wher-” you hear hiccuping in your shared room. “oh my. alatus why are you crying?” you ask pulling xiao towards you, hugging his crawled up form. “i could always canc-” “no! y-you don’t have to. its an important c-con °hiccup convention! you need to go.”

“y’know it’s okay to miss me right? i’m not telling you to conceal your feelings.” stroking the back of his head. “my love. i know you need to go.” you felt bad for leaving. especially with his heat coming up. “you know what week it is right?” he asks his eyes shining a wonderful green hue. “yeah it’s your heat week. i’m sorry i can’t help you out xiao.” he wipes his tears away. “the reason i was crying wasn’t that you were leaving. but that you were going to leave me during my heat week.”

“oh you sly bitch.” he smirks, you know what hes going to say next. “yeah. but i’m your bitch aren’t I~ 💗” he cocked his head sideways, moving in slowly for a kiss. you immediately moved just to tease him, and earned a small whine from him.

now after you left xiao felt a bit untouched… i mean you did leave him without fucking the poor guy. “hnhgg y/nnn~” he moaned as he palmed himself through his airy pants.

needy!xiao / was desperate by nightfall. he dug through the hamper for your dirty underwear just to smell and feel you, but to his suprise. you did the laundry.

needy!xiao / scrambled through his phone to find a sultry photo he was allowed to take during one of the many sessions the two of you had.

needy!xiao / couldn’t even find sweet release after hours of humping the pillow that smelt the most like you.

needy!xiao / forgot all about the emergency disk that held numerous voicelines of you moaning his name, or calling him a good boy, or degrading him.

needy!xiao / only felt release when he thought he had heard your voice but it was just scaramouche entering the door using a recording he had to spook him.

needy!xiao / wasn’t even aware scara had come to check up on him til he heard a shutter click, and he turned around to see a snickering scara.

———————

“DAMN. she has you wrapped around her finger.” scara snickers, sending the picture of xiao collapsed on the bed panting. cum dripping everywhere on the bed sheets. “you’re even wearing a collar? whats the name tag say? “y/n’s bitch” or “needy whore”.” once his heat was over xiao was going to beat the living hell out of scara and make him buy a new phone. “d-delete that.” xiao muttered. “yeah no worries. y/n asked me to check up on you and send her picture of what you were doing.” xiao heard the click of the door, meaning scara was gone.

———————

tired!xiao / still feels horny so he tries to muster up the courage to rub himself through his pants.

tired!xiao / was ecstatic to find out that you were going home in 2 days. he couldn’t wait to fuck your brains out.

tired!xiao / tried going to sleep but failed as his dick twitched in his pants again.

tired!xiao / lazily strokes himself while being half asleep. imagining you kitten licking and edging the poor guy.

———————

“MMMMMHAAG. i n-need. you y/nnn.” he says speaking into the mic of his phone. “i c-can’t cum without you.. scara made me think you came home early and made me cum by accident :(”

poor baby. you think “i know. he sent me a picture of you with cum all over the sheets and yourself.” yeah stifle a laugh. “don’t laugh!” xiao continues rubbing himself, whining into his phone. “i want to see you y/nnn!” he sounds like hes going to burst.

“did you not listen or watch the tapes in the disk i gave you alatus?” his ears turn red. “t-they don’t work… i need you.”

———————

lol this is half of a past post. :0

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my friend's husband to stop claiming he had a mental illness for his own benefit?

I know the title really makes it sound bad, and maybe it is because I'm actually conflicted now.

I (26f), Grace (27f), and Will (26m) are the key players to the story. They had a baby almost a year ago, and I love her. I am the best unofficial aunt and official godparent- but that is neither here nor there.

I have stayed at their place before and I also have been at hotels, if I stay at their place I try to pay them and they decline. This last time I visited, I stayed at their place because Will wanted to take Grace on a date and get a hotel somewhere so I would watch the baby.

However, Will has just increasingly pissed me off claiming he has OCD and needs to be accommodated. I helped fold laundry, he told me it wasn't right and redid everything I did that was his- fine, we all fold things differently.

Grace pulled me into their bedroom one time to have a private and intense conversation that last over an hour and I sat on his side of the bed. He stripped the bed and put new sheets on and then yelled at Grace for allowing that as "my germs" were covering the bed. Grace felt bad because she didn't know he would care, I felt upset he yelled at her since he had never communicated with her, nor would I have done that if I had known.

Grace has movies displayed alphabetically, and it has ALWAYS been this way every time I have been over. Baby grabbed the shelf and they fell. I fixed the shelf, and put them all back. Will came in the room, saw it, became upset and claimed I was doing it wrong and effecting his OCD. He changed it to genre's, which is fine but it has never been that way. He claimed it had and I was mistaken.

Couldn't change the Baby's diaper because "what if fecal germs get on me?" He has gotten mad at Grace for not cleaning the right way, always falling back on germs being his big "issue" in OCD.

But I've never seen him actually have a compulsion? I have anxiety that can be debilitating at times... for example i have to lock my door 4 times each night for me to feel safe. I have a specific routine I do before bed and if I dont I panic. I got in a wreck two months ago, and now I can't drive that route. Maybe I have OCD maybe not, I know I have anxiety though.

But then Will goes and claims to have OCD and does...nothing. It feels really random to me?? Says his big issue is germs, yet can handle when the cat pees on the floor and can handle cat litter. Got a second cat, a kitten, who is still learning the litter box and does not care one bit and cleans it up.

Will's friend got drunk and laid down on his bed. Will laughed at how drunk he was and helped him stay in the guest room. Went to bed almost 15 minutes later and never changed the sheets or anything like he did when I sat there.

Has shared water bottles with friends (Grace would make sense, they literally had a kid together). He has dropped food on the floor then ate it. Will has made fun of Grace when she cooks, because she has to have steak well done because she got food poisoning one time and has been afraid since, which he knows, but wants his steak rare.

Anyways, I feel he is lying about OCD and using it to justify his actions which pisses me off. Grace has called him out for the double standard before. Grace has also tried to encourage him to get therapy, which he refuses. Grace does give him well grace when he does seem to be anxious to do something (like the movies, she shrugged it off and said if it makes him feel better sure).

The final straw was they were at MY place this past weekend, and I noticed how he kept staring at my pictures hanging on the wall. I already had a terrible day and was on edge, which they both knew.. He ignored our conversation and got up and took down a picture. I asked him what he was doing. He said his "OCD is acting up" because it wasn't in line with the rest of the pictures. I said it was a design choice (for a mental image, imagine three pictures in a row, picture one and picture three are the same shape and size hung at exactly the same level, while picture two is hung above that level somewhat, so it kind of looks like "^" with the points being the pictures, but the middle is not as pronounced). Will told me I was a terrible interior designer.

I'll admit, I saw red because it felt like he just wanted to have a chance to insult me. I told him he was a dick and using mental illness as an excuse to be one. I told him that if his OCD is that debilitating to go to therapy, but it seemed to me he was an asshole just trying to use it to justify his actions. He called me an asshole and a bigot and looked to Grace for comfort. Grace said that Will had no say in my design choices, but that I could have found a better way to tell him. Will didnt like that answer and stormed out and left my house.

Grace is now being told by Will to drop me as a friend. She won't. It is causing me a lot of anxiety because I know it is causing a lot of stress in their marriage and I don't want to be the cause of it. Will is adamant I apologize while I am adamant that he should apologize to me. i would be willing to apologize for what i said if he would apologize for trying to change my house, but he says i "dont understand OCD". AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[aroiso]

Id: two kittens looking at the camera. The picture is titled with: "3 Gay cat looking at each other" in capital letters. End Id

thank you to @friendofcrowsandcats for the id!

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You {One-Shot}**

Title: Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You {One Shot} **

Lewis Hamilton x GF Reader

Warning: Cursing, 18+ Mature Content, Fluff, NSFW, Smut

Words: 4.7

Synopsis: You are Lewis' date to the opening night of his LH44 Charity Gala. It is a night of performances and interviews, and you are in awe of your man. You find yourself mesmerized by him the entire night.

Note: This was inspired by the above picture and further sparked by a song, Lauryn Hill's version of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You”. It fit so well. I won't lie the above picture even had me stop and state for a few minutes. Lol.

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Pic Not My Own, Found on Pinterest***

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。

You had the perfect view from where you stood. You were across the ballroom surrounded by at least a dozen people all talking to you about something of importance to them, how wonderful the evening was going, how amazing you looked, or how spectacular the man of the hour was. Your man.

Tonight was the first-ever charity gala event for LH44 charity, and it was also the first official outing for you and Lewis as a couple. You'd tried to talk him out of it but he deemed tonight fitting to be your official announcement because it was also the charity's official opening night. Tonight would be an endeavor of love with performances, speeches, and spoken word all done by the youth from underserved communities in hopes of spreading diversity and improving representation where it counts. Lewis thought there would be no better night than tonight, a labor of love from both ends.

The more you thought about how he'd proposed the idea, your heart fluttered. You loved this man more and more every day and you knew soon you would be an absolute goner.

"Did you know he is the most charitable athlete?"

A gorgeous woman in rose gold whispered to her friends who nodded looking equally as impressed as those around her who'd heard. It was true. Once he was ranked in the top 5 of generous athletes but now he'd surpassed even that. Your heart expanded with the pride you felt. He served the praise and admiration he got.

The clamor of voices begging for a moment of his time and attention got louder and drew your attention. There he was standing in front of rows of reporters who were holding out mics and cameras to catch every word he said.

The man always held everyone captivated when he was around. Always. You watched him talk with his hands fastened behind his back and you nearly went weak in the knees. The orange he wore only brightened his face and the perfect lighting made him look ethereal--angelic even. You gawked at him marveling at his gorgeousness. Sometimes you couldn't believe there existed a man as pretty as he was. It was unfair really.

The butterflies in your gut took flight again for the umpteenth time tonight. It seemed only seconds passed between moments he took your breath away. Heaven help you, you could possibly already be a goner.

Just then, Lewis' eyes trailed around the room as he spoke and landed right on you. You released a soft gasp as you pressed your palm to your stomach. A slow smile spread his lips before he winked at you and that was it. From this moment forward this man would have an unfair hold and advantage over you.

You tried to tear your eyes away but couldn't so like a stalker you stood there staring at him. You didn't know how long you remained that way but the next thing you knew he was standing before you. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against the shell of your ear.

"Mmm," he moaned, "Rose, Gardenia, vanilla, and brown sugar. Your scent has been following me all night, kitten. I've craved it," he whispered.

He'd craved your scent? You nearly scoffed. It was hovering on embarrassing how much you craved his. Lewis took your hand, laced his fingers with yours then smiled.

"Are you all right, kitten?"

You nodded, unable to think straight much less get words out. He smiled again then led you through the crowds toward the tables. Everyone you passed you both nodded your head and smiled. Once at the table, Lewis pulled out your chair and allowed you to sit before pushing it in. He then joined you, sidling a little closer than the predetermined location the chair had been.

You smelled his cologne, and it infiltrated your senses having an almost mind-numbing effect. Your thighs parted slightly just as your breathing picked up. In only half a second you felt like you'd run a 1000-meter sprint with the best of track and field.

"I can't get over how enthralling you look tonight. I thought we'd look like 2 Sesame Street characters in this orange, but you make me look good."

You snorted.

"Damn right I do. Orange just might be your new color, love," you flirted as you softly caressed his cheek.

Lewis's smile was adorable as he took in the compliment. When he turned to kiss your palm your belly flipped yet again making you take a sharp intake of breath.

"Are you all right?"

Swallowing back down your heart that had leaped into your throat, you nodded.

"I'm super proud of you is all."

Lewis leaned closer making a direct line for your lips, but a sweet tiny voice called for him.

"Mr. Hamilton?"

To his other side stood an adorable girl about 7 or 8 with a timid smile on her face. Lewis gave your hand an apologetic squeeze before he turned to her with the brightest smile.

"Well hello there pretty girl."

A small crowd gathered around to watch the interaction and every face looked even more enamored with him than before. You watched the girl give him a bouquet of flowers, yellow sunflowers surrounded by multi-colored wildflowers, and a photo album that was filled with pictures she'd drawn and painted, all of him.

Her mother let Lewis know that the girl was a huge fan of his and never missed a race no matter what and how inspiring he'd been to her. She went on to thank him for his charity work because he was the reason the girl, Azbeka, was able to study at a prestigious school.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears at how stinking cute all of this was. Lewis asked the girl if he could hug her then melted when she threw her arms around him. Collectively, the crowd let out an "aww" which made you melt. As you felt your ovaries painfully beg for the essence of him, you grabbed your glass of champagne and chugged it down hoping to douse the sudden onslaught of feels that made you crave a tiny replica of him to cradle in your arms.

There will be none of that, Y/N, you said to yourself in your head, determined not to let your body work against you. Not tonight. If you fell prey tonight of all nights you knew you'd end up the mother of Lewis Hamilton’s firstborn. Crossing your legs you held on tightly to what remained of your wits.

As the night progressed you listened to the heartfelt stories of those in attendance, watched musical performances, and even heard speeches from those who had been greatly benefited by Lewis' charity. The smile on Lewis' face never slipped. With every performance and every personalized account, he looked happier and happier, and the more he smiled the brighter he glowed.

You were so enraptured by him that no one else managed to get much of your attention. Several people joked about the way you stared at him which made you hide behind your hands from embarrassment. Every time someone brought it up, Lewis' large hand found its way to grip your thigh where the split of your dress fell open. Every time he did that your belly flipped.

Halfway through the night when you felt him squeeze you again, you knew that he knew his effect from the glint in his eyes. Lewis licked his lips then slyly bit his bottom lip.

"You're awfully quiet, kitten. Are you sure you're all right?"

You leaned to his ear then whispered, "You're just too good to be true. I can't take my eyes off of you. It feels like heaven when we touch. I can't wait to hold you. This thing that we found and that's finally ours--I just thank god I'm alive because I can't take my eyes off of you."

When your eyes met his you saw the thin veil of water welling in them, then he clenched his jaw right before his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Ehm."

He lifted your hand to his lips then peppered kisses across your knuckles. Across the way, someone called his name then beckoned him over. He raised a finger in the air indicating for the party to give him a moment then he leaned to you.

"I love you so much."

Your heart once again launched itself into your throat. You'd imagined when those words would come out of his mouth for the first time. You wondered if it would be when you were entangled in each other's arms, doing mundane things like cooking together or working out, or even when you were around friends and family. You hadn't imagined it would be when you were surrounded by hundreds of people with eyes and cameras on you for one of the most important nights for his foundation.

You pouted and fought the tears that wanted freedom. Lewis stared deeply into your eyes overcome with emotions that were plain to see on his face. As you were about to speak his name was called again. He cleared his throat then dabbed the corner of his eye.

"I have to go."

You nodded and watched him walk away. Every few steps he looked back at you as if he thought you'd slip out on him now that the words had been said. Did he think you didn't feel the same? The thought was almost unbelievable. He was Lewis Hamilton. Everyone loved him. Everyone. There was no shortage of people who tried to get in with him and get under him.

As he did yet another interview you watched as his eyes found yours every couple of sentences. Even from where you sat, you could see the love in his eyes, and you couldn't believe it. He loved you. He really loved you. This wasn't just sex, or companionship. This wasn't him trying to work you out of his system or no strings attached. It was something more, much more.

The longer you sat with his love confession the giddier you became. You wanted him to know how you felt too. However, at every opportunity he was called or whisked away by a cute kid or an eager interviewer making it impossible for you to tell him.

When the crowd of women that were around you broke apart you saw him laughing with a few of his friends that had come out to support him. That was when you slinked across the ballroom with your eyes on the prize--him. When you were right behind him you motioned for his friends to not tell him. Then you wrapped your arm around his midsection resting your palm on his abs. You resisted the urge to feel him up then grazed your lips against his ear. Lewis's body tensed but then relaxed after a few moments as if his body knew it was you.

"I love you,” you whispered.

Your voice came out breathy and low, it was easy to miss but when he spun around to look at you, you knew he'd heard you. He didn't speak, there was no need for words. He just stared into your eyes as if searching them for a lie, but you knew he wouldn't find one. You meant these words. You felt them with every fiber of your being.

Slowly Lewis smiled and then began to chuckle until it turned into an adorable giggle. Then the two of you stood there giggling together as if you were 3-year-olds who'd just shared the silliest secret.

After that, the rest of the event went by in a blur. You were officially on cloud 15, fuck 9. You felt like you'd drank all the champagne in the place. By the time you left and made it back to Lewis' your hand was tightly clasped within his making you giddy with feelings. There was something about when he held your hand that made you feel safe and taken care of.

When his lips found yours in the bathroom as you stepped into the path of one of the many shower heads, you moaned. Lewis wrapped his arms around you holding you against his body. The kiss was passionate and so damn sensual that you quickly got lost not caring that your hair was full-on wet. When he pressed your back to the expensive stone wall, he wasted no time lifting you against him.

"Do you know how many pictures there are of me just staring at you?"

Lewis snorted.

"Are there a lot?"

"Too many. It's so embarrassing."

Lewis peppered kisses down your neck as he rocked his hips rubbing himself against your already wet center.

"Can't believe you have room to feel anything besides this right now. I must not be doing my job right," he said as he took your nipple between his teeth.

You threw your head back and groaned out.

"Oh, Lewis."

Before he claimed your lips, "That's what I thought," fell from his.

The time for talking was done. His lips claimed you with expertise like they'd been crafted for this particular purpose. Raking your fingers down his back you scraped his flesh making him moan against your lips which of course reverberated right between your legs.

"Mmm!"

When Lewis cupped your breasts he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger using the slickness of the water to aid his glide.

"So fuckin' perfect," he mumbled.

Your eyes met and the fire you felt within was what you saw in his orbs. You couldn't wait anymore.

"Fuck me, Lewis."

He grinned then licked your nipple before he sucked in the peak. "You are definitely nowhere near needy enough for me to fuck you."

You tried to reach down between your bodies to fist his need, but he beat you by pressing the smooth hard mass right against your mound igniting a flame right in your clit.

"Fuck!”

"Good girls say please."

"Please," you panted as he circled his hips.

"How bad do you want my dick, kitten?"

You bit down on the spot where his neck and shoulder met making him grunt. His body jerked and for the briefest of moments, you felt the tip of his erection dip between your folds.

"Ha, yes!”

The pleasure was short-lived because Lewis pulled free then lowered you in the same breath. In seconds, you were face to face with the stone wall as Lewis pressed his hard cock against the swells of your ass sending your cheek pressing into the cool surface.

"Your ass is a thing of beauty."

To push him over the edge you wined your lower half then popped your hips sending each ass cheek shaking.

"Mm."

A heavy hand fell onto your ass spanking you once, twice then a third time. Lewis then gripped your hips as he rocked forward nudging his hard cock between your ass cheeks. It was a sight you had to see, so you glanced over your shoulder and watched him buck back and forth. Each thrust forward gave you a peek-a-book look at the swollen tip of his length and the mushroom tip held you captivated.

"Mm, you look so good between my ass baby."

In response, Lewis pushed down on his shaft allowing it to drop down onto your bottom with a heavy and wet-sounding "thwack".

"Whose ass was that?"

You smiled. "Yours baby. It's all yours."

With a sinister grin, he dropped down then spread your cheeks before burying his face between your legs.

"Oh fuck baby!”

His intention wasn't to tease you or to prepare you for him but to drive you absolutely bat shit crazy. As his tongue laved at your folds he sloppily slurped your flesh using the water that cascaded down your body to aid in producing the nastiest sounds that even a porno would be jealous of.

Your fingers scraped at the wall desperately trying to find something to hold on to as he ravished your pleasure trove. However, there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to keep you from exploding so that was what you did. Exploded.

You came all over his mouth shaking as the wetness gushing out of you competed with the spray from the showerheads. Lewis moaned and slurped up every drop then stood looking like the Cheshire cat who had time for a drink. He was soaked and from the way he licked his lips, he looked like he was ready for more.

When he pressed himself against you again he cupped your breasts.

"You taste like champagne and mangos. Fuck I can't wait to bury myself so deep inside of you that you can't breathe or think."

Holy shit you thought envisioning just that. Just when you were about to take matters into your own hands you smelled his body wash just before Lewis began giving you a very special bath. He used the excuse of getting you clean as a front to feel you up and tease every single part of your body. By the time he was directing you under the showerhead, you were more than ready to return the favor.

While wrapped in a cocoon of his scent you slowly rubbed his body making sure to get every nook, slope, and sliver of skin. The milky suds clung to him and as they evaporated slid down the toned muscles that he'd worked so hard for. When you whirled around to do his back, your inner thoughts slipped out.

"For fuck's sake you're beautiful."

Lewis chuckled then pulled your arms around him so you were pressed against his back.

"Me?"

You trapped his ear lobe between your teeth then nibbled down making him moan. Slowly your hands dipped down his abs until you found the treasure at the end of the pleasure trail. Taking your time, you fisted him then stroked along his length, up and down, up and down.

When he dropped his head back a long groan echoed in the shower. "Fuuuck, Y/N!”

"Mmm, you like that? Like the way my hand holds you just right? Like how I know just what you need?"

Your hand sped thanks to those milky suds that had made their way down his body. In a matter of seconds, he was moaning, grunting, and mumbling your name until suddenly he spun you into the water.

As it cascaded down your bodies washing the soap from your flesh, Lewis' lips found yours, and his fingers found your clit.

"Mmm."

From his actions, you could tell he wasn't trying to tease you. He was trying to make you cum, and you knew you were but seconds from doing just that.

Your breathing became ragged and uneven, and your hips bucked against his fingers needing more than he was giving. That was when Lewis pinched your clit and your body shot upward. If it weren't for Lewis' hand holding the back of your neck keeping your face in front of his you would have physically shot through the ceiling and roof and then into the night sky.

"Aaah!"

"Holy fuck, you're so fucking beautiful when you cum, kitten. That's it!"

The next thing you knew you were in his arms then on your back across the softest sheets ever. You moaned and writhed as you rode the wave of your orgasm, indulging in the way your skin tingled. It all felt so unreal. This man took you over the edge unlike any other before. In your aroused haze you stared at him and tailed his wet body pressing him to memory. You didn't want to forget not even an inch of him. You wanted to be in the middle of a meeting when a sudden flash of this moment attacks you turning you into a smirking mess until you had to excuse yourself to video him to knock one out.

Your eyes locked on his engorged length and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. He was perfect. Long, thick, and completely intimidating. If you were faint of heart you would have flustered and looked away worrying how you'd ever take him. Luckily you weren't faint of heart. You knew how to take him now. You were a pro.

"See something you like?"

You grinned. "Nope. I see something I love on someone I love."

Those words were all it took for baby girl Lewis to appear. He smirked until he smiled then giggled. How adorable. As he laid on top of you, his knee nudged your thighs apart making room for himself to rest between them.

"Mmm."

A squeal left you as he nipped at your nipple, raking his teeth over the pebbled bud. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him right there. Lewis took the hint and intensified the pain he delivered with your pleasure.

"Fuck," you panted out wrapping your legs around his waist.

It may not have been what he intended but the strength of your thighs never lied and with it you sent him plunging deeply into your heat.

"Aah,” the two of you exclaimed in unison.

As the pleasure he felt intensified so did his bite around your nipple. Just when you were about to shout out from the pain Lewis pulled his hips back and slammed into you for the second time. Any pain you felt evaporated and morphed into indescribable pleasure. Clenching around him, you came as you bucked against him using his body to heighten your climax. His cock within nudged that hidden bundle of nerves you clenched tighter and tighter around him. The friction against your clit from your writhing brought you closer and closer to another galaxy.

"Uuuugh shit!"

A second orgasm washed over you and Lewis quickly pulled from your body and flung himself onto his back.

"For the love of....fuck!"

He lay there gripping the base of his cock as his head angled back. He looked as if he were being tortured but deliciously rather than unscrupulously. You smiled, then flung a leg over him before sinking down, down, down until every inch of him was snugly fit between your tight walls.

"Mmm," Lewis released watching where your bodies were joined.

"Are you trying to kill me, kitten?"

You rocked your hips making your body roll like a wave coming into the coast on the evening tides. Lewis' eyes roamed over your body quickly falling under its spell. You knew what he liked and often used that knowledge to make him do the thing he hated...cum quick.

Sensing your intention, Lewis groaned and gripped your hips stopping them. You smirked.

"I see my kitten wants to play."

You watched him lick his lips in the sinful way he always did and just like that you lost your train of thought. You sat there atop him just staring at him and again you were mesmerized by his beauty. All movement ceased and the only desire you had was to just watch him. Underneath you, Lewis nudged his hips up giving you a reminder you didn't need that you were completely filled and in the middle of something.

"This dick won't ride itself, kitten."

You snorted then groaned. This was getting ridiculous now.

"This is getting ridiculous now."

He smiled. "What? Can't keep your eyes off ya' man?"

"Shut up it's not funny."

Lewis sat up, clipped your chin between his pointer and thumb, and looked deeply into your eyes. With a luscious peck, he claimed your lips making you moan.

"It's cute. I love when you stare at me. I love when I look across a room and see you looking at me or searching the room for me. I do the same thing it's just you only notice it sometimes the other times you're doing your own thing and I am just awestruck because I got the baddest one. I am as obsessed with you as you are with me. Sometimes I think a little more so."

He brought his lips to your jaw then down to your neck. A moan escaped you as you got lost in his lips on your skin.

"Mmm, Lewis."

"Yes, kitten."

"I love you."

He brought his face back to yours and stared into your eyes.

"I love you too kitten. Promise you'll stay."

You crushed your lips to his then rocked against him making him moan against your lips. With every flick of your hips your body was rewarded with a new wave of pleasure and with each wave of pleasure you used it to make him say your name.

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered as he dropped his head back bracing himself on his elbows.

In this position, you decided to give him the show he so deserved. You rocked and rolled your hips against him in circles then swirls then a chaotic pattern that kept him on his toes. Within minutes he was groaning and biting down on his lips as he watched every move you made.

When you began bouncing on him his eyes locked on where your bodies joined. You knew you were beyond waterfall wet but you didn't care, you didn't give one fuck that the room was filled with the sound of your wetness squelching from every movement you made. You didn't care that you moaned wildly and panted his name every time he met you halfway sending himself deeper than you thought possible. You didn't give one fuck that you knew tomorrow you'd be sore from the pounding you were giving yourself. All that you cared about was this moment with him and the depth of your feelings for one another finally coming together in the most primal and basic way. The levels of your love for one another were the purest of all.

"God you're gonna make me cum," Lewis declared.

You grabbed his face ensuring he kept his eyes on yours as you raced to meet him at the point of no return. When he flicked his hips upward that was it, the entire solar system exploded and all you saw was the stardust left behind.

"Lewis!”

"Y/N!"

Names spoken in unison led to colliding bodies. With you on top of him, Lewis wrapped his arms around you enveloping you in his warmth and scent branding you in this intimate way. While you loved making love with him you also loved this part just as much. His post-coital cuddles were world class.

"I am so far gone for you and you don't even realize it. You don’t realize how in awe I am of you. You know I like control and always have tight control over myself and emotions but I am always in over my head when it comes to controlling just what it is that you do to me. I am a complete simp for you Y/N. Complete. I can barely hide it and it’s become the joke of the paddock whenever you come around or you're brought up. You're not alone in this. You have me, all of me and I'll never take my eyes off of you."

You lifted your head and gazed into the deep wells of amber that were his eyes and melted. You wanted to say so much more to that but what else was there to say? Lewis' thumb flicked away a lone tear then he pulled you back to his chest so you could hear the source and force of his love for you. And that was what lulled you to sleep. The sound of his love racing for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

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@alookintohersoul @asiaaisa77 @jd-now-jq @naturalthrone22      @mrsbarnes-rogers @beyourownkindofbeautiful @beccacupcakesxo @toni9 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @queenoftheworldisdead @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @richonne4life @coffeebooksandfandom @siempremamita @raveviolet @dumbchick  @amennariee @briellableu @leebabe444 @31miw-inkpsycho

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[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Okay poll time time

Would u click on a fic with a title or description that's so painfully cringe , like either ironically or on purpose out of morbid curiosity

Like would you click on something that's:

Yandere Sussy BAKA dame dame Yo Alpha Male Locked in OBSESSEDpiled Stalkmaxxer punishes u because u are being a baddd naughtyy kitten for ur daddykins (part 3 POGGERS)

hihi hi please read i love yandere and i want to succeed in my goal of being stalked by one irl 💕💕💕 his eyebrows be on FLEEK yaas king slay the boots howse down grill he is so hot 🥵🥵 picture is the yandere idk who he is but he is HAWT anxd i might go Yandere for him 😩💦💦💦

Omg i ramble too much XD i wont take up any more of ur time so u can read about this sexy sex XD

Trigger warning!!!!: gore, torture violence, rape

(200 words)

---------Read more---------

like would you tap on the read more??? Im trying to get clout but doing the nice aesthetic way is too much effort, im naturally cringe already so this style of clickbaiting is like instinctive, or will you just scroll away and even blocking the account that posted it?

[aliteraryprincess]

Help me find this picture book?

So I've posted about this before, but it's been a few years and it's been on my mind lately. I'm trying to find a picture book from my childhood (so 1990s and very early 2000s) that I can't for the life of me remember the name of. And Google has been very unhelpful despite years of searching. The last time I posted, some people remembered reading the book, but they also couldn't remember the title. I asked my mom and she just straight up didn't remember the book's existence. 😑

The book is about a kitten who has been left by the mother cat. The mother cat felt it wasn't safe where they were (which might have been under a porch) and brings him somewhere else. A woman finds him (or her? can't remember that either) and takes him in, and she owns two other cats: an orange cat named Pumpkin and a tuxedo cat who is kind of snarky (can't remember his name though).

And that's all I've got....

Does anyone know this book? Or remember anything else about it that I could put into a Google search (since what I have is clearly not enough). I would be eternally grateful for any help solving this multi-year mystery.

[fairyniceyeah]

💎 I love my team, I love my crew (Part 3/7)

Title from Super (SEVENTEEN)

ILMTILMC Part I ILMTILMC Part II

Summary: Priority is to get the sick members comfortable.

CW: emeto, diarrhea in the context of illness, nightmares

Sickies: Woozi/Jihoon + Joshua + Seungkwan + Minghao + S.Coups/Seungcheol Caretakers: Hoshi/Soonyoung + Wonwoo + DK/Seokmin + Vernon + Jun + Jeonghan + Mingyu + Dino/Chan

💎🐯

“Shh, he just fell asleep”, Wonwoo whispered, holding his index finger to his lips to indicate quiet. Soonyoung nodded in agreement and walked over to them as silently as possible. It was cute, really. Jihoon was sprawled all over Wonwoo’s lap, effectively trapping the rapper under him. His hair was braided back in a french braid - the dancer hadn’t even known Wonwoo knew how to do that - and he was wearing his pajamas. In sleep, the producer looked so young and peaceful, if not for the paleness and the flush on his cheeks. 

And the fact that they were still in the bathroom with the smell of sickness heavy in the air.

“How is he?”, Soonyoung asked quietly and knelt down next to Wonwoo, watching Jihoon breathe deeply. He was sound asleep - hopefully he would stay that way. From what Soonyoung had heard the producer had really gone through it during the afternoon.

“Hasn’t thrown up in about maybe thirty minutes, I’d reckon. I managed to get him into clean clothes and take some fever reducers and the antiemetic he normally takes for his migraines. He basically passed out on me after that”, Wonwoo explained and sighed. “He’s really not feeling good. Anyways, what was that meeting about?” 

“Shua-hyung, Cheollie-hyung and Minghao-yah are also sick”, Soonyoung explained, watching as Wonwoo frowned in concern, “it’s likely a very contagious stomach flu. We split into teams to take care of the sick members … as long as we still can.”

Soonyoung was well aware that his voice was trembling. If he was honest, he was terrified. An outbreak of illness had not been on his mind when they had left the harbor two days ago. Even more so, they had been happily playing table tennis without a care in the world only hours ago. 

Now it was evening and nearly one-third of the members were down. 

“It’s going to work out, Soonyoung-ah”, Wonwoo comforted him, though Soonyoung knew him well enough that there was doubt in his voice. 

“Why don’t we lay Jihoonie down on a bed? You both can’t be comfortable like this”, Soonyoung suggested. He itched to do something to help.

Wonwoo nodded and sheepishly added: “I think I lost feeling in my ass about twenty minutes ago.”

It was a bit awkward to lift Jihoon, even with his small frame and low weight - even lower now after he had been throwing up for hours - in the cramped bathroom but they managed. Wonwoo nearly fell when standing up, even his legs seemingly asleep.

“Let’s put him on Dino’s bed”, Wonwoo whispered, gesturing with one hand to the stuffed otter that was decorating one of the two lower bunk. Soonyoung, who had lifted Jihoon to his chest, raised his eyebrows. The other lower bunk was clearly Jihoon’s, the only bed completely empty of stuffed animals or multiple pillows. “He said he threw up on his bedding. I don’t think any of us even had time to take care of that.”

Soonyoung grimaced and nodded, waiting for Wonwoo to pull back the covers so the dance leader could lay down his precious burden. Jihoon stirred a bit when he came in contact with the mattress and both older members held their breath in hopes he’d fall back asleep. Jihoon sighed in his sleep, pulled the stuffed otter to his chest and curled up. It was adorable really. 

They covered him back up and Soonyoung couldn’t resist snapping a quick picture and sending it to the group chat. When he was better Woozi would likely kill him but for now Soonyoung thought the rest of the members might need a pick-me-up and Jihoon was very cute. Like a kitten. There was a reason why Carats called the 96-liners the cat-line.

“He will not like that”, Wonwoo commented but Soonyoung saw him save the picture to his gallery anyways. So he just shrugged. “Let’s get the bedsheets clean, I guess?”

Wonwoo nodded and then said: “Why don’t you stay with Jihoonie? I have been cooped up in the bathroom for some time, I need to walk around a bit.”

“Yeah, sure, if you don’t mind”, Soonyoung agreed easily. He didn’t really want to leave Jihoon’s side anyways.

“Nah, it’s fine.”

💎⚔️

“Oh, it’s you”, Seungkwan whispered, a bit dejectedly, when Seokmin entered the sleeping cabin he shared with Joshua, Mingyu and Wonwoo.

“Thank you. That doesn’t hurt at all”, Seokmin said, only slightly offended and closed the door. The room was now only illuminated by the light coming in even through the curtains. It took a few seconds for Seokmin’s eyes to adjust to the relative darkness but then he spotted Joshua laying down on his bed, eyes closed and breathing deeply, seemingly asleep. There was a bucket by his head.

As Seokmin looked around he nearly missed the dark silhouette sitting on the floor, leaning back against the bed across from Joshua’s. Seungkwan had his head bowed, knees pulled to his chest. Something was off.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, hyung”, the youngest vocalist whispered, “I just hoped for Jeonghannie-hyung or Cheollie-hyung. I … I don’t feel good.”

Dread electrified Seokmin’s whole body. No, this was going wrong too quickly. Did they have to add Seungkwan to the list of sick members this shortly after Seungcheol-hyung? Seokmin didn’t like to admit it but he was terrified. He didn’t have a problem with helping sick members even if they were throwing up, which wasn’t what everybody could stomach, but caring for two sick members on his own? No, that would not work. There was a reason why they had decided on teams of two after all.

Seokmin shook himself. He didn’t have time to worry about that. He had a dongsaeng to cuddle. Careful to not stub his toes in the dark, Seokmin made his way to Seungkwan and knelt down beside him, pulling the youngest BSS member against his side. Immediately Seungkwan curled into his arms, sighing constantly.

“What’s wrong, Kwan-ah?”, Seokmin asked worriedly, inconspicuously feeling the younger’s forehead. Seungkwan was warm, maybe a bit warmer than usual, but Seokmin couldn’t tell if it was a fever. He hoped they had a thermometer somewhere because even if it wasn’t a fever yet it would turn into one for sure. 

“I feel nauseous”, Seungkwan mumbled, “I mean I saw Woozi-hyung and Joshua-hyung throw up but I don’t think this is just sympathy.”

Seokmin hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to go up to the deck, see if some fresh air helps?”

Seungkwan sighed but nodded. Seokmin stood up and then pulled the younger to his feet. Seungkwan swayed for a moment but gained his balance before Seokmin got too worried. 

But now that Seungkwan was standing, clutching the back of Seokmin’s shirt did the older vocalist realize he would have to split himself in two if he wanted to help Seungkwan up to the deck and keep an eye on Joshua at the same time. Well, Joshua was asleep. Maybe he could get a manager to keep an eye on him while he was with Seungkwan. Decision made, Seokmin took Seungkwan’s hand in his and gently led him out of the room.

“What about hyung?”, Seungkwan asked worriedly, swallowing after.

“He’s asleep. I’m sure we’ll find somebody who can look after him soon.”

They had barely taken a few steps into the direction of the stairs that would lead them up to the living room hallway and then consequently out on deck when they ran into Vernon.

“Hey”, the rapper greeted them, carrying a stack of clothes in his arms. Seokmin winced, understanding instantly what had happened. 

“Nonie”, Seungkwan whispered and rushed to his best friend, basically throwing himself into his arms. Vernon nearly dropped the items he was carrying but managed to hold onto them and wrap Seungkwan into his arms at the last second. Worriedly, he looked over Seungkwan’s shoulder at Seokmin.

Before the older vocalist had a chance to explain, Seungkwan whimpered: “Don’t feel good, Nonie.”

Understanding bloomed on Vernon’s face, closely followed by worry. “Have you been sick?”, he asked, pulling away to muster his other half. Seungkwan shook his head. 

“Feel like I might though”, he mumbled. Vernon sighed and rubbed his arm. He was surprisingly unfazed by the sickly member considering his squeamishness but then again Vernon could push past his distaste for vomit when Seungkwan was involved.

“I was about to take him up to the deck and see if that helps”, Seokmin explained, “but uh, actually, could you do that? We left Shua-hyung alone…”

“Yeah, let’s go”, Vernon replied, sneaking his arm around Seungkwan’s waist to support him on the short walk, “we just need to stop by Jun and Minghao.”

“Thanks, Nonie”, Seokmin said. “Feel better, Kwan-ah.”

The two left quickly and Seokmin turned around to go check on Joshua, feverishly hoping that his absence had not been noticed.

When he pushed the door open, guilt washed over him. Joshua was awake, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. He truly had chosen the moment nobody was there for him to wake up. Hearing the door, Joshua turned to look at Seokmin. Even with the low light spilling inside, he winced and squeezed his eyes shut but not before Seokmin was able to see the tears in his eyes.

“Hyung”, he breathed and rushed over, “how are you feeling?”

“My head”, Joshua whispered, “it hurts so badly, Min-ah.”

“Do you want to try medication?”, Seokmin offered, feeling a bit helpless. Sure, he had seen the older members take care of Joshua and Woozi when they were in the grasp of a migraine but he felt seriously out of his depth now.

“I don’t know if I can keep them down”, Joshua admitted, “where are Hannie or Cheollie?”

Seokmin winced. Should he tell Joshua or not? Worry wouldn’t help the American but then again, keeping him in the dark was also not realistic. “We’re having a bit of a problem”, Seokin started to explain, wincing as he realized his first sentence was a big understatement. “A lot of members are sick at the moment. The medic said it’s likely norovirus. Next to you, Woozi-hyung, Minghao and Seungcheol-hyung are sick. Seungkwan might be too.”

“Oh.” Joshua looked stunned. 

“Yeah.”

They were silent for a few seconds until Joshua was seemingly hit with another bout of pain. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms against his forehead, groaning. Seokmin internally panicked but knew he couldn’t really afford to. He spotted the ice pack that must have fallen off of Joshua when he woke up and grabbed it. It was still mostly cold. Relieved, he lifted it and took Joshua’s hands into his own to free his forehead. The hold Joshua had on his hand was painfully tight but it lessened a bit when the ice came into contact with his burning skin. They sat there, at the edge of the bed, for a few minutes with Joshua just breathing. Seokmin didn’t know what to do but be silent support. 

Finally Joshua took one last deep breath in before asking: “Painkillers? They are with my bag, I think.”

Seokmin scrambled to his feet, happy to have something to help. He spotted the blister and within a minute he had gotten Joshua to drink a bit of water along with the pills. 

“Do you want to lie back down?”, he asked then. 

“No”, Joshua choked out, “I think I feel better sitting up. Even my head. Min-ah, I’m sorry, but can you hand me the bucket just in case?”

Worriedly Seokmin bent down and lifted it up into his hyung’s lap. Joshua mumbled a small “thanks” and bent over it, one arm coming to rest on the rim and his head laying down on it. Seokmin, not sure how else to comfort him, just ran his hand up and down his back.

Watching his hyung nauseously bent over a bucket, occasionally swallowing down gags was not subject to his entertainment tax. Seokmin looked away, staring into the mostly dark room not that the sun had apparently started to set. He wondered how Seungkwan was faring. How Seungcheol and Woozi and Minghao were doing. Had any of the other members started to feel the effects of sickness already? Did he himself? He hadn’t paused yet to actually check in with his body on how he was doing. 

Seokmin took a deep breath himself, trying not to freak himself out. But as he closed his eyes and focused on his head and stomach, he felt fine. There was no upset, nothing bothering his body except for maybe a tiny sunburn on his shoulders. 

The vocalist was torn out of his thoughts by the sound of a nearly silent gag. He opened his eyes just in time to see a watery mouthful of vomit rush out of Joshua’s mouth into the bucket. There went the medication. 

Joshua heaved a few times, Seokmin able to feel his back ripple under his hand but he brought nothing else up. It caused the vocalist to wonder if Joshua was empty and had nothing else to throw up in his system or if he had managed to keep himself from vomiting up more. 

Then Joshua was whimpering, silent tears streaming down his face.

Now Seokmin couldn’t contain the panic anymore. “Hyung?”, he asked, rushing to put the bucket down and wrap the older in his arms. Joshua just shook, face buried in Seokmin’s shoulder. “What’s happening?”

“It hurts so much, Min-ah”, Joshua sobbed.

💎😸

“Xiao Ba, please let me in”, Jun begged, knocking on the bathroom door for the umpteenth time. Minghao hadn’t exactly … made it to the bathroom before his stomach had rebelled for the third time that day. The younger was terribly embarrassed and Jun got it, he really did. He’d feel humiliated too if he had soiled himself in front of another member even in the throes of illness. But it had caused Minghao to lock himself in the bathroom, sobbing so loudly and violently that Jun feared he would pass out due to dehydration before Jun managed to coax him out. Vernon appearing to help out had been as much of a curse as a blessing. Getting him to grab new clothes made everything just a tiny bit easier for Jun.

Yet, he was becoming terribly sick - pun not intended - of staring at the door for minutes on end, without being able to help his dongsaeng. He was just glad that a kind manager had cleaned the bathroom earlier and had even thought of putting a trash can inside. Plus, he had informed Jun of what he had done which had reassured the dancer a lot.

“Eissa, I know you are embarrassed”, Jun said defeatedly in Chinese - so very grateful for the bit of privacy it granted them - and let his head thunk against the wood, “but I promise you gege isn’t judging you or is angry or whatever you are thinking. You’re sick. It happens. Please, let me help you, baby.” 

The lock firmly stayed in the occupied position. 

Jun sank down to his knees and sat down awkwardly on the ground. It promised to be a long wait.

A minute passed. Two. Five. Ten. 

Just as Jun was about to knock on the door again Vernon appeared, his arm slung around a pale looking Seungkwan. Jun scrambled to get to his feet, his hand immediately coming up to feel Seungkwan’s clammy cheek. He didn’t seem overly warm. But the paleness and especially the quietude made it obvious that Seungkwan was not feeling well.

“Oh, love, you too?”, Jun cooed.

“Haven't thrown up yet”, Seungkwan muttered. He looked like he would any moment now. Jun kept that thought to himself. 

“We wanted to go outside, see if it helps a bit”, Vernon explained. Jun nodded in agreement. At least it couldn’t hurt. 

“Go, go”, he said, ushering them to the door leading them outside, taking the change of clothes from Vernon in the same movement. He watched them trudge outside, Vernon never letting go of his best friend. 

The ship was built with the hallway having a row of windows showing the deck outside, with the living room separated by a wall and the door outside and the bathroom on opposite short ends, with a tiny alcove with the stairs down to the sleep level. So Jun was able to watch them stand by the railing a bit longer, his only pastime. It was cute really, how Vernon was fussing over the vocalist.

A manager approached the two maknaes and conversed with Vernon for a moment, looking worried. Both of them started when suddenly Seungkwan leaned forward and presumably threw up over the railing. Jun couldn’t see but if it wasn’t obvious from the way Seungkwan was bent forward, his back moving with the retches, it was by Vernon brushing his fringe back and looking at the manager with panic. 

Jun was brought out of his worries when Jeonghan and the medic emerged from the living room, both looking unhappy. 

“How is Cheollie-hyung?”

“How is Minghao-yah?”

Jeonghan and Jun asked the questions nearly simultaneously, both chuckling a bit at the situation despite it not actually not being that funny. It was the small things helping them keep their sanity. 

“Chan-ah and Mingyu got him”, Jeonghan replied. “He fell asleep on the couch, his fever is pretty high. Hyukjae-ssi…” - he gestured at the medic - “...is going to check out what medications we have available and the managers are trying to figure out a way to sail back. Apparently one of the managers with a sailing license is sick too, so we are not sure how to proceed. I wanted to go check on Shua and Jihoonie after this.” 

“And Seungkwan, I guess”, Jun said, nodding his head in the direction of the sick member now sitting down with his back to the railing and Vernon and the manager kneeling beside him. Jeonghan sighed.

“And Seungkwan.”

“Minghao is … well, he’s pretty embarrassed”, Jun said, slightly awkward. He didn’t want to tattle on his dongsaeng but he knew Minghao needed help soon. And Jun, despite his closeness to him, was slowly doubting he’d get Minghao out of the bathroom any time sooner.

“Poor him”, Jeonghan sighed. They all stopped when the sound of coughing took up. Minghao was throwing up again. 

“He’s throwing up and having diarrhea, right?”, the medic asked. Jun nodded.

“Fever?”

“Maybe a slight one.”

“He’s going to be dehydrated soon, if he isn’t already. Can you try to get him out? I have at least a few IV’s and he will likely need one if he can’t keep any fluids inside”, the medic said.

Jun nodded. “I’ll try.”

💎🐕

Mingyu wished himself back in time. Arguing with Seokmin over a lost table tennis match was so much better than seeing their members succumb to the sickness one by one. He most certainly wasn’t a big fan of puking and watching over Seungcheol after said leader had just spewed his stomach onto the floor and had fallen asleep clutching the plastic bag in his hands … Mingyu had to admit he wished he was somewhere far away. 

Dino had curled up with a gloom look on his face by the leader’s head and was absently running his hands through Seungcheol’s hair. Mingyu himself had sat down on a chair further away, burying his head in his hands. He wanted to help but he’d also rather stay far far away.

“Hyung?”, Dino asked, sounding a bit concerned. He probably knew how Mingyu was feeling. The rapper had never hid the fact that vomit grossed him out. He just felt bad for burdening the maknae.

“Hm?”, he asked, lifting his head.

“Can you go get an ice pack from the kitchen? Cheollie-hyung is burning up”, Dino requested and then added with a wink: “And while you’re there, why don’t you check if we have ingredients for juk or galbitang? I’m sure the members will appreciate some light meals soon.”

It was a beautiful out. They truly had the best maknae. Minguy nodded and nearly stumbled into the doorway on his way to the kitchen. Inside he met a stylist noona, boiling water on the stove.

“Hello Mingyu-ssi”, she greeted with a smile, “I thought I could prepare some tea for the sick ones.”

“Thank you, noona. It’s very nice of you. I’m going to bring an ice pack to Cheollie-hyung and then maybe we can cook together?” Anything to get his mind of the sickness spreading and the noona was nice.

Mingyu returned to the living room just in time to find Dino trying to soothe an agitated Seungcheol. The leader was deeply asleep, it seemed, but trapped in a nightmare. He was tossing and turning, sweat pouring out of every pore and he seemed to be crying. 

It tore at Mingyu’s heart strings to see their mat-hyung like that. Normally Seungcheol was emotionally so strong and while he had cried in their presence before - how could he have not in all the time they’ve known each other? - it hadn’t been this desperate for a long time, not since his anxiety was at its worst. 

It had been years and years ago when Seungcheol had admitted to Mingyu during a sleepless night in a shared hotel room that part of the reason for his insomnia was the fear of nightmares. Mingyu had woken up to a crying and kicking leader, completely lost in the scenarios his brain came up with. Even with Seventeen famous and successful, Seungcheol had never been able to shake the fear of disbandment, the fear of losing his members like they had lost Doyoon, MingMing, Dongjin and Samuel before debut.

“Hyungie”, Mingyu whispered and within seconds he was on his knees in front of the couch, stroking back Seungcheol’s hair and trying to reduce his subconscious fears. 

“I don’t know what happened”, Dino said, eyes blown wide, “he just started crying in his sleep.”

It was no wonder that Dino was so scared. He had likely never seen Seungcheol like this. It had been terrifying for Mingyu back then too, not knowing what to do when his friend wouldn’t wake up from his terror. Now Mingyu knew to gently rub his arms and talk to him, so that Seungcheol woke up feeling comforted not trapped when held down (which had been a mistake Mingyu had only made once).

“Nightmare. He’s had them since forever”, Mingyu explained. He felt bad that Seungcheol was going through this but he was also glad he could finally help. “Hold the ice pack to his forehead. Here. I’m gonna try to wake him up.”

Dino nodded and took the ice pack from Mingyu, nearly dropping it with his shaking hands. 

“Don’t be scared, Chan-ah. I know it looks scary but Cheollie-hyung is gonna be fine, you’ll see.”

It took a few minutes of soothingly rubbing Seungcheol’s arm to stimulate him and whispered reassurances and comforting words before the general leader slowly calmed down and his eyes blinked open. Tears were still leaking out the corners of his eyes and he looked to be in pain but he was awake. The terror was gone, still his hands came up to clutch at Mingyu’s shirt.

“Ming’?”, Seungcheol whispered, his raspy voice swallowing down the last part of his name. He sounded so exhausted and his eyes, while open, were glazed over. Mingyu cupped the leader’s face and brushed a falling tear away with his thumb. Seungcheol’s skin was burning.

“I’m here, hyung. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?”, Seungcheol repeated, sounding young and lost. “I don’t … ‘gyu, I feel sick.”

Mingyu had no idea why the situation didn’t make him want to run away. If anything he wanted to stay closer to his hyung and comfort him, even if he threw up. There was so much vulnerability in his voice and such child-like innocence.  

“It’s okay, we got you, hold on a sec if you can”, Mingyu promised even when Dino threw him a confused and concerned look. 

The younger rapper helped Seungcheol move his feet off the couch and lifted the leader’s upper body into his embrace, so that Seungcheol was basically slumped against his chest. Dino quickly provided them with the plastic bag that Seungcheol nearly immediately lifted to his lips. The leader seemed exhausted and all his energy seemed to be going towards staying awake. His hands were shaking and Dino had to help him keep holding the bag open. 

It took only a few seconds until Seungcheol started expelling more of his stomach contents, the bag quickly growing full. Mingyu held Seungcheol tightly, fearing the leader would fall over if he didn’t. One of his hands came down to press softly against Seungcheol’s stomach, hoping that it would help the leader’s pain.

Watching Seungcheol throw up was disgusting, the sight, sound and smell, everything a bit too much, but Mingyu couldn’t put his own comforts over his sick leader’s. And if he got sick, he got sick. He probably would get infected in the near future anyway. There was no way out.

It took a painful few minutes until Seungcheol stopped vomiting and by then he was so weak that he just fell back against Mingyu, curling up in his lap and softly crying again. Dino took the bag from his hands, tied it off and set it to the side. 

“Hyungie?”, he asked, brushing back Seungcheol’s fringe. “Do you want to rinse out your mouth?”

Seungcheol shook his head. “Tired”, he whispered, more tears leaking from his eyes. “My head hurts. I just want to sleep. I don’t even know why I’m crying.” The last sentence was accented by an adorable pout that would have sent Mingyu squealing in any other situation. 

“I think it’s the fever”, Mingyu mumbled, leaning down to press his lips to hot skin. “We need to get you cooled down.”

“I’ll get more ice packs”, Dino suggested and scurried off. Mingyu just continued rubbing his stomach, it seemed to comfort the leader at least a bit. 

ILMTILMC Part IV

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN