#sort of pain that makes me feel like my brain’s leaking out of my ears and my hips are trying to snap from my body

[1327-1]

period cramps yay!!!

[yawnderu]

Parenthood — Miguel O'Hara x Reader

I love putting this man in situations.

Content: You kidnap a wombat and force Miguel to play house with you.

fluff, idiots in love, mutual pining.

"You brought a living wombat into my office." Miguel notes bluntly, staring at you dead in the eyes with an unreadable expression as his slow-moving platform lowers.

"I wanted you to see it." You retort, shooting him a playful smile as you put the heavy creature on the floor, trying not to cringe at the pain on your back from carrying it. You crouch down next to it, petting it like it was a domestic pet, and it lets you.

"You could have sent a picture." Miguel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he mutters in Spanish, not knowing what to make of the situation. Why was it always up to him to handle all this nonsense? He deals with timelines and the multiverse, what the hell does he know about wombats?

"Why on earth did you think you should bring this to my office?" He asks, jumping down from the platform and staring down at you and the not-so-tiny creature, hands on his hips.

"He was so miserable at the zoo! Now he's smiling and laughing— well, not really, but you get what I mean. He looks happier." You retort, looking up at Miguel to give him a sheepish grin.

"You're telling me you kidnapped a wombat just for this?" He looks between you and the wombat, who is now chasing you around. He's... both impressed and amused now. Impressed because you actually managed to do something like that, and amused because you would do something like that.

"What's his name?" He internally punches himself for falling for the bait. He knows he should have sent you away, maybe even have you arrested for stealing a zoo animal, but... you kidnapped the animal to show it to him, and it's playing with you, looking happy. It's... kind of endearing.

"I was thinking about naming him Miguel O'Hara." You answer teasingly as you lay down on the floor of his office, allowing the wombat to climb on top of you as your hands cover your face, feeling its tiny and gentle scratches on them.

"No— that's my name." Miguel says. This is adorable in the most unhinged sort of way, and he can't help but ignore the way the corners of his mouth tilt up slightly.

"Fine, then he'll be... Miggy." You poke your tongue out at him, sitting up as the wombat stays on your lap, being surprisingly calm. You made him tired by running around and letting it chase you.

"You call me that." He answered with a raised eyebrow, glancing between the wombat and you. He can feel his brain leaking out of his ears.

"Are you too selfish to share a nickname with a wombat?" You grin up at him, enjoying teasing him, just like every single time you're together. His reactions are the best, and he's so funny without even realizing, like a grumpy cat.

Miguel simply rolls his eyes, walking over and crouching down in front of you. He stares at you dead in the eye before disengaging his suit on his hand, reaching down to gently pet the wombat. His hands easily dwarfing the head of the animal, yet he's surprisingly gentle.

"Tell you what— this is my child, I'm its mother, and you'll be the father." Yes, you're trying to play house with the damn animal and Miguel. No, Miguel will not stop you, despite the way he rolls his eyes.

"I didn't sign up for this." He replies, yet he keeps petting the animal, scratching behind its ear. This girl could probably kidnap an entire herd of these if she so pleased... and he'd probably join in on it.

"You're insane." He tells her casually, though his words lack the usual bite they carry. "Actually insane." He loves her.

"You still have a huge crush on me, though." You retort teasingly, ignoring the way he's blankly staring at you, burning a hole through your head. He's probably making your head explode in his imagination.

"I don't." Miguel is a horrible liar and he knows it, yet that doesn't mean he won't defend himself against your horrible— but true accusations.

"You totally do." Your smug tone only makes things worse, forcing Miguel to try his best not to roll his eyes so far he could see his own brain. He simply sighs, ignoring you as he starts petting the wombat's tummy.

"Don't speak when I'm petting the baby. Cállate." It seems Miguel is getting a chance at parenthood with you, even when the "baby" is a 30kg marsupial. The thought of it makes the corners of his mouth slightly tilt up, looking down at the animal to hide it, yet you can still see it. The image of it puts a smile on your own face, yet this time, you keep quiet about it.

[hiddenreflections]

Playing god thats all ive known you to do and if you were to be god - what kind of god would you be? Its engraved in every cruelity youve ever done when you felt no one would put you away for it - what you think youve earned, what you think youre entitled to -

you like the confusion in their eyes, you like the confusion in their eyes, a little bit to much for my taste

Playing god messing around with the innocence of others, proudly calling yourself a sexual offender - proudly building your identity around your crimes you feel untouchable when you build your mask and tell everyone your lies, you like it so much, you like it so much, but whyd my words questioning whether maybe youre just ashamed turn you inside out?

Would god get angry like a little child, like you do when you feel mocked disobeyed - when you cant control how it goes, and you think you didnt plan enough to control where it goes - so you break it into pieces to rebuild again youre so proud of manipulating children, youre so proud of manipulating women, youre so proud of fooling the world - you feel like laughing at them for not knowing everything you find true about yourself

Playing god only ever showing your true colors to those you torture, you wanna see their shame and pain - you like it when people have to do what you tell em when they dont wanna do it at any cost, the harder it is for them to obey, the harder you get - you love the fear and the self-disgust you whisper in my ears, you whisper in my ears to tell myself to be so ashamed to ask myself why you did this to me out of anyone -

I try to shake my little head and push you back, but even if I tell myself theres no logic to what youve said, im cornered and im small, your yelling voice echoes in my skull whilst you tower over me and I break, and I break, and I break, I feel you cave in my skull and your voice leak into my brain until I can hear it echo inside like a carbon copy of yourself ingrained into me

Does god only ever feel alive when he sees himself reflected in others? You need your little victims to reassure you that you can have impact and worth,

What kind of god would you choose to be? The cruelity and the sadism, you like it when theyre to young to really understand that sometimes people like to be cruel in the way you are - you like the confusion in their eyes - you like it so much,

when I was just a little child I told you it looks like you just dont know what you want, I told you it looks like youre just trying to fill a void - fill it as violently as you can - but deep inside theres nothing, nothing to you, and I tried my best to take my chance and to figure something out about you that would get my hands free, that would make you be human - you said maybe im right, you said maybe what you really need is for someone to do what you want to destroy themselves for your sake, fully knowing it, instead of being forced and manipulated -

What kind of god would you choose to be? I can feel the blood rushing down from my nose, whilst you ask me if obeying was really that hard

Playing god, telling yourself youre some sort of genius for knowing when to sound like youre kind, and for when to sound cruel if you wanna manipulate a child just right

I refuse to accept, I refuse to accept and you love the pain people are in in when they fight circumstances they cannot help - resistance is futile, you echo it all the time - that it is what it is and theres no changing you and no amount of asking questions is gonna provide me with an answer I like

You tell me when your ex girlfriend killed herself after you tormented her for months it wasnt as satisfying as you thought it would be, that you thought getting to end someones life in this way would give you the kick you seeked, but you felt disatisfied with not knowing how she would have turned out - oh you did not like not knowing what would have become of her -

you said you like to own people and then you like to let them go free and watch, watch, watch how they recover or how they dont - you like to feel so proud of them when they recover and look down on them even further if they dont

I still dont understand what you meant by that, I have never liked you pretending in that way - we all know you want every single victim of yours to die cause we felt it every day

Playing god, you like to see yourself actualized in others, and you like so much to see the flashes of rage fade into despair - you told me most people break real fast, you made it sound like a game, but it was not a game, oh it was not a game -

You said, you look down on the people you hurt - and I wondered if thats how you justify - if you didnt look down at them - if you didnt tell yourself theyre beneath you you couldnt do it, could you? But each time I questioned you like that, and you did not like how I perceived you, why do you have this childlike rage? Theres something so infantile and incomplete about you, and it does not fit with the godlike image youre trying to build. You said you own me, and that I could never enjoy what you do - you need me to hate belonging to you, you need me to want to fight it with all my might and then to lose, then to lose, you liked to whisper in my ears when I fell apart, crying and shivering, cold dissociated so far away, "This is all I wanted to see, this is all I wanted to see. This is all I wanted you to do for me." Youd whisper in my ears and praise me and tell me ive done a good job.

Theres no way to get out of suffering for you, theres no way to find the right words to say, youre a "god" thats never appeased - you hate it when people try to suck up to you - you laughed when I tried to flatter you told me to shut up, shut up, dont try to suck up to me - dont try to, dont try to -

cause all you need, all you need to feel like a god is for people to feel like slaves

you can only feel strong surrounded by weakness, and you can only feel dominant when you know they couldnt even they tried -

What sort of god, what sort of god would you choose to be? Because the sort of power youve taught me, what you taught them is power, id like to cut all these lessons out of me You said im the most pathetic out of em all - because when you offer me a more painless way you tell me all I need to do is to obey, if I want the rape to feel pleasureable - youve given me the day to approach you myself to be good, and obedient and to show you you can be less brutal to me, you can be less sadistic because id do everything you ask me to do,

You said im the most pathetic out of em all - because people like me, people like me they make it harder for themselves, even if offered the painless way, you said people like me they choose to be in pain - you said its my own fault, you said that you remained right if given the choice I wouldnt obey, no I would not obey - I would not approach you and I would not choose the pleasure

you looked down at me, and you could not understand why I would choose to be in pain, you told me I deserve to be treated this way if im choosing to stay in pain -

but I could not, I could make myself desire you I could not make myself obey when you stopped forcing or threatening me, if given a little bit of freedom id instantly decide to stay at a distance from you - but you successfully convinced me that trying not to betray myself Is me making the weaker choice -

I can hear your voice, oh I can hear your voice, still no matter how much I break I just cant make myself I just cant make myself crawl in your arms choose you, and pretend like I enjoy this when I dont

You could give me all the pleasure in the world, I would not want it if its you

My dear god, my dear tryrannt - how blessed am I to have been taught so many lessons of yours truly, it turned me inside out, and im not quite sure -

they looked at you like they understood and we could still not make ourselves make ourselves betray ourselves in this way even though they worshipped you in that way

if you knew how you looked to us that day, and yet -

God is such a subjective thing, its a concept not sheer fact, God, god, god, god of what?

I dont wanna absolve you, I dont wanna lose myself, if im the doll you told me I am, you told me I have no free will, you told me I just do what you want, if im such a doll why if given the choice did I never obey?

You cant teach me to love you in spite of doing nothing but hurt me all the time, You cant teach me to love you at expense of myself, I cant love the one that taught me to be so ashamed of myself

Yet I hated it a little bit less or it wouldnt have turned out that way, why dont you show me what it feels like to be you? I felt the way I twisted and turned, oh no id never love you, id never obey, id never love you at the expense of myself, but you liked this other option too, didnt you?

You liked it when you were not rejected you were not obeyed - but you were mimicked, your cruelity adhered to, seen as what to be like -

Maybe it doesnt matter to you as long as you get to corrupt whats innocent one way or another

Playing god, you tell yourself if enough people believe the lie it becomes the new truth -

I know what that feels like, because you taught me if I dont want to be a victim I need to be who hurts - It feels good to be you, It feels better to be you than to be what you hurt -

I liked it because I never needed to feel confused again when it hurt like hell, because I knew if given the chance id do the same to someone else

Abuse explains abuse it justifies by knowing that godhood and the entire world - yeah it all runs on lies Playing god, what sort of god would you choose to be? And if you believed yourself to be worth anything at all - cause I know the hot sinking shame you feel the one you hand out to anyone you get the power over - what sort of god would you have choosen to be?

Oh I know the shame you feel, I know because you inflicted it on me, Oh I know how good it feels to hurt rather than be hurt, you taught me yourself, you said, either be a prey a predator, be victim or perpetrator - if these are the only choices given - id rather play god than be a slave.

[multistan-247]

AFFLICTION

Characters: Husband!Hanma Shuji × Fem!reader

Tags: MDNI, arranged marriage, hurt but no comfort (no i wanna cry for some reason, I'm not sorry), graphic representation and descriptions of miscarriage, angst, toxic relationship, trophy wife, voice messages, pregnant reader, sexual assault, abandonment, asshole father, descriptions of panic attacks, Toman and it's business, mentions of infidelity, pregnancy tests, crying, too many tears

🏷️: @r1nf4iry @ambrodias @suhweetdreams @rinny-babe @no-name-jack

WHY DO I NOT SEE ONE ANGST ARRANGED MARRIAGE PREGNANT FIC ON TOKYO REV?!- LIKE- I NEED ANGST AND I SHALL MAKE SOME OF MY OWN IF THERE'S A LACK OF IT. YOU GONNA CRY FOSHO. Not proofread btw.

Part 2? I think I want one.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Playlist | Asks about Affliction are open |

Warmth.

Warmth runs down your legs, stirring you awake from the dreamless sleep you were basking in.

Pure panic floods into your being when you sit up, feeling for the switch of the lamp. Once light streams into your eyes, you feel your lungs closing in.

Blood.

Dark, red blood streaking pristine white sheets.

Red bleeds into your vision, your brain pausing, unwilling to accept the situation.

"What is it, Y/n? Why have you-"

Comes the groggy voice of your husband, stopping once he sees the crestfallen expression on your face, his eyes following your line of sight just to be greeted by the all-familiar, tangy, coppery smell of blood.

"Get up, Y/n. Get up! We need to go to the hospital, you get me? We can't sit here like this!"

Cursing under his breath when you made no move to get up, you find yourself being hoisted up in Hanma's arms, being held to his chest as he carries you to the garage. If this was any other situation, you'd be delighted by the fact that your husband was making some sort of contact with you, blushing at the closeness.

But no.

You couldn't believe it.

You refused to believe it.

Your ears buzzed with static, and a single tear escaped your blurry eyes.

The pain in your belly had been reduced to a dull ache, a hole beginning to grow in place of your heart.

You refused to believe it.

Why was this happening? Why was the only good thing in your life being taken away like this?

Why, why, why?

Isn't everyone supposed to deserve happiness?

The next thing you could grasp was the glaring white tiled walls, the obnoxious smell of phenyl and the urgent shouts as you were lowered on to the stretcher by a blood covered Hanma.

A sense of hopelessness fills you, holding you hostage as you were steered into the ICU, and the last thing you remember before being knocked out by the sting of anaesthesia being Hanma's desolate gold eyes.

You're confused when you find yourself attached to tubes and an IV drip, and your hand immediately goes to your stomach.

Your throat tightens, threating to choke up as salty rivulets of your tears leak, falling on your bleached hospital gown, soaking onto them. Fingers dig into your now deflated belly, and you sob.

Sob as you claw at your stomach, trying to find a reason to be proven wrong.

Sob as you pull off the thin sheets off you and pry at your skin, finding for something, anything, anything left of your baby.

So it wasn't a bad dream afterall.

Your heavy head falls back on the pillow with a wail, immediately soaking up the dampness on your cheeks.

No, no, this wasn't happening.

It had to be in your head.

It was all in your head, right? This was nothing but a nightmare and you're going to wake up from it soon enough and find yourself alone on your bed.

It had to.

There was no way your little blessing would be stolen, right?

Wrong.

Just then, the door is turned open to reveal a blank Hanma, dark circles painting the underside of his eyes. Other than that, there was no indication whether he cried or not.

He probably didn't. He was used to this, right?

Blood and gore was his everyday thing. He wouldn't be fazed by something as small as this.

Right.

He says nothing and sinks into the sofa with a sigh, still dressed in the same blood-streaked clothes from yesterday.

The brown stains confirmed your worst fears.

You turn to the other side of the wall and clamp your teeth on the pillow, muffling the wails begging to be listened, to be heard. You didn't care about the drool or the dampness collecting on it.

All that was left was pain.

Endless, bone-numbing pain, pain like no other.

Your husband lay there, doing nothing, taking even breaths of air and left his eyes to zero on the ceiling, looking heavenward, as if staring at it would bring his heir back.

When you could cry no more, you slowly shift to the other side and wipe a slow hand over the remnants of your tears.

Daring to open your mouth, you mutter:

"Go home, Hanma. Get changed. I'll take care of myself."

He slaps a wrist over his eyes and replies with a derisive "No."

"Atleast one of us needs to be in shape to complete the procedures so that I can be discharged. Go home, Hanma."

Go home, Hanma. You don't need a wife who can't even give you a heir.

Truth be told, you didn't want him to leave. But you didn't exactly feel like meeting your husband's gaze after what had transpired within the matter of a mere, few hours.

The only thing tying you down to him was gone.

There was no purpose of being a wife anymore.

Not anymore.

He didn't have to care for you anymore. Or force himself to care for you.

He was free again.

He would simply forget, because he could. Simply because he could afford to. He was a man. What would he know about loosing a child?

Apparently, nothing, as he promptly gets up, walks to the door and goes out, without looking back.

Within a few minutes after he leaves, a nurse comes in, helps you sit up and speaks to you in soothing tones, about the rest of the procedures and tells you to have strength, telling you that she understands.

You bite back a scoff; what would she know?

What would she know about the way your heart bloomed when Hanma eased your sandals away the other night and massaged your aching, swollen feet?

What would she know about all the emotions you felt when the lines on the test read positive?

What would she know about all the extra care he began to take, even going as far to make small talk and ask you about your day?

Nothing.

What would she know about the way your heart sped up when his rough palms would slither over your stomach, cupping it as he pressed against your back everytime you went to sleep? About all the loving whispers of how beautiful you were as you carried his baby for him, about all the times he sneaked into the shower and made gentle love to you?

What would she know?

Nothing, as she leaves you be and you cry again.

After a while, the door opens again and he comes in, changed and a bit more composed, the strain from last night wiped off his face. A nurse also comes in, and hands him a pad. He signs it, doesn't grace her with his words and nods at her.

Cry because of how helpless you were. Cry because you couldn't do anything to get your baby back. Cry because you were all alone, cry because nothing would ever be the same anymore.

The nurse brings you a tray of food, helping you sit up and suggests you to eat before you were discharged. You longingly stare at Hanma, expecting him to come feed you from his own hands, like he used to.

When you used to be pregnant.

The thought makes you choke, and tears pool.

A call buzzing from one of Hanma's pockets make him stand up, before glancing at your face hidden by the nurse and leaves.

Your eyes burn. And you sob again, because that was the only thing you could do. The only thing you could afford.

"I'm sorry."

Says the nurse, bowing to you and she too leaves, giving you space.

The ride back home is silent.

You don't dare to breathe or utter a single syllable as the driveway opens, accomodating his sleek black Ashton Martin. He turns off the car and gets out, coming over to your side and opens the door for you to get down by habit.

He knows, and he knows that you know it too, that he did that out of pure habit.

It doesn't mean anything.

You settle on the sofa, staring at the walls as if to prove something. Hanma walks to your shared bedroom and throws it shut.

The door opens after a while and he emerges out, dressed in his suit. His business suit.

He leaves again, back to the way he came from, and this time, he doesn't spare you a glance.

So this is what he was going to do, huh?

Pretend as if nothing happened? Pretend as if you didn't exist, before you got pregnant?

Was that all you were? Someone who warms his bed every night? Was that all you ever were?

You couldn't even contain your miserable howls of sorrow, the walls of the lonely mansion you resided echoing them, almost like a cruel joke as you lamented about the loss of your baby, your gift; a gift you were blessed enough to carry, until you weren't and it was taken away from you.

You're numb for the next few months. Everyday passes slowly, yet every memory of the days passed is a blur, and you remember nothing.

You were married to Hanma Shuji not out of love, but out of plans of extension and growing Toman.

You were basically pushed to marry him because your father insisted you to, and brought you up to be the best trophy wife for one of the high ranking executives of Toman.

And you were a good wife.

You waited for him every night till he came back, prepared food for him though he would come very late in the night, for your hard-working husband, the one who put food across your table.

Since the day you lost your child, nothing was the same.

You were sure that he blamed you for the loss.

That explains it right? That explains why he didn't come home for days and why he stopped talking to you altogether.

Not that you had a connection to begin with.

He talked to you only when he wanted something. Never took you out. Never introduced you as his wife. Never stayed after fulfilling his desires.

Never treated you as his wife.

He would state what he wanted and just....left.

Like he always did.

So, why were you staying? Why were you the only one trying? Why were you the only one putting effort into sewing the last of the threads back together, when there was no relationship to fix to begin with?

Why, why, why?

Faded red lip stick stains were on his neck when he returned home one night, and you immediately lost whatever energy you had to greet him.

It almost gave you a heart attack. And of course Hanma didn't care to see that.

That night, it took you everything not to burst out crying as he laid on the other side of your shared bed.

You don't know what happened, but after that, Hanma would come home with a slight tint of lipstick on his lips, wearing the scent of another woman, atleast once or thrice in a week.

And each time, something inside you broke.

If he was doing this purposefully, it was working.

It was definitely working, because one day, you decided you had enough.

Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity, right? Then why was your husband hell-bent on destroying you? Wasn't loosing your child sacrifice enough?

Y/n would physically break if this continued.

This was it then.

Her hands were shaking and wobbly when she pulled out the laptop he'd gifted her on her birthday, or rather, left on the kitchen counter with a note which said "For your birthday" and nothing else.

"How to get a divorce from an adulterous husband"

You never thought that you'd see a day like this.

Any dreams of a rosy future, lots of children, a caring husband and a happy family was defenestrated the moment you were married to Hanma Shuji.

But any wife was to be treated with some amount of respect, right?

Wrong.

I mean, atleast to Hanma, who apparently thought that you were nothing but a trophy wife, someone he was entitled to protect and possess.

Someone whom he was simply tied to by meaningless words and vows.

Someone who would never leave despite what he did.

Or so he thought, until you did.

Hanma twists the door knob open, his expensive leather shoes clicking on the marble surface as he walks in and closes the door behind him.

He hadn't noticed it was dark and almost knocked into the vase next to the entrance if not for his quick reflexes.

Strange.

The house was silent.

Something was not right.

The one time he came early, you weren't around.

You usually texted him, informing about your whereabouts, or telling him where you were.

He switches on the lights and puts his bag on the counter, like he always did.

Only this time, there was a bundle of papers and the phone he gave you because "using that old phone wouldn't do well for his image".

More specifically, a bundle of divorce papers.

Upon opening your unlocked phone out of sheer curiosity and shock, he finds a single voice message.

A single voice message of 4 minutes, 56 seconds and nothing else.

Your voice plays in the empty mansion when he presses the button.

"There's no other way to say this...but I think I finally had enough. I can't do this anymore, whatever this was."

He breaths heavily, and a phantom weight settles on his limbs.

"I'm so tired, Hanma. I couldn't take it anymore. I just couldn't....

But thank you for providing for me from the past two years. I know about your cheating, and I don't really mind. I just wish you'd told me beforehand, so that I could be ready...

I made it easier for the both of us and got a divorce."

Hanma couldn't believe his ears. She was kidding right? She'd come back to him, she had to.

"I've already signed it, the rest is upto you. You know what disappoints me the most? It took me a miscarriage to realise that you will never want me. Or accept me for that matter. But it's okay...I don't know what the baby meant to you-"

She chokes up in the middle, and he hears her count to three before her voice continues.

"-but to me, it meant the whole world. I shouldn't have stayed silent for so long that night, and woken you up. Maybe, then, maybe, I'd still have her. It's all my fault. It was all mine."

He hears your shuddering breath, and could almost see your red eyes.

"It was foolish of me to believe that I'd have a family of my own. But to what it was worth, thank you for making me a mother, even if it was for five and a half months. I was finally able to find myself. I waited for you, every night, wanting to know you, talk to you, learn more about you, but you didn't let me in. It was your choice, yes, but I really, really wish that you were a little kinder to me. I know I wasn't your choice, or your type, but it wouldn't hurt you to be a little kinder to your poor little wife, would it?"

Sharp intakes of breath is what he hears, from the source of sound.

"I thought...I thought that one day, there will be atleast one moment where you'd stop, and pick me up. One moment where you'd finally accept me, take me in your arms and...h-hold me."

Soft, full-blown sobs fill his ear. A vivid affliction is heard in the woman's dismal sobs.

"H-hold me as if you wanted me. Hold me as I cried for our baby, for the little life I failed to bring into this world. I wish you took some pity on this woman who'd just lost her child and provide her some...comfort. I'd never known material comfort till I was married to you. I've not known comfort of any form, for that matter. I really hoped that for once, I could have a good life, but of course, fate didn't want me to have that. Now, the idea of comfort has become so far-fetched that I've settled for getting away from this sham of a marriage. I don't know if this means anything, but you were my first. I'll never forget it. I'll never forget how you left me alone on our bed and didn't even bother asking me if I was okay. But it's okay, right?"

Hanma was beyond overwhelmed. He was so caught up in his world that he forgot about the woman he pulled into this world, one who never belonged to it.

"I wish you would've stayed...I really, really do. I hated how that nurse looked at me, so pitifully, like I was some abandoned puppy. Like I didn't have a home. It hurt. It hurt so much. It felt like I was being ripped apart into pieces. You know, I waited for you. Always waited for you, hoping that one day, one day, you'd want me. You'd shower me with your gentle touch and make love to me. That one day, you would want me as much I wanted you. I really, really did."

It doesn't register to him that he was crying until the taste of salt fills his empty stomach.

"You didn't. That's okay. Because in the end, you taught me that I was the only one I needed. That's good, right? I learnt something from you."

His breath wavers.

"You remember last year's New Year party? The one where you got me that black dress? The one where you termed me as a 'stupid wench who can't take care of herself'?"

"O-one of your...f-friends had assaulted me."

Hanma stops breathing, altogether, breathing only when you speak again.

"When I tried to tell and explain to you you, you wouldn't even hear what I had to say. Am I that pathetic, Hanma, that I didn't deserve a chance to explain? Who else could I go to? You were the only one I knew, and the only one who would care about my dignity. You didn't care enough, I guess, because you left the moment your phone rang. Kisaki dragged me to the side and asked me where you were and why my eyes were red. I wanted to save face and lied that you had went to fetch some drinks. I am not oblivious to what you do, Hanma, but the least you could do was tell me, tell me so that I could stop expecting."

By this time, Hanma was struggling to breathe, to find coherency in his thoughts, scrambling for control.

"Thank you for teaching me that I could avoid making a single sound and still be able to cry. I learnt how to silent cry and keep my pain to myself."

His hands were sifting through his head, hands labelled "punishment" and "sin" tore at his dual-toned hair.

"Please don't look for me. I want to be able to move on and not look back again. Maybe, I can finally find myself. I don't know. But please, don't look for me. This is the last request I ask of you. I will never come back into your life ever again. I p-promise."

"I've kept the ring in the box on your nightstand. I've not left anything which belongs to me, so if they're left behind....just burn it. It's upto you. Discard it. Just don't look for me. That is all I ask of you...

I hope you have a good life, Hanma Shuji, and find someone who cares and is actually enough for you. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a heir."

No, no, no.

Lies.

These were all lies, right?

She'd come back and laugh in his face, tell him that it was a mean joke, right?

"I really hope you find someone better, someone who isn't me."

No.

"Goodbye."

Each of your words ring in his head.

"Fuck."

He curses.

"Fuck. She really left, didn't she? She must've hated me. How couldn't she? I was a fucking monster."

He curses, pulling, tugging at his hair as pushes off all the contents on the counter smashing to the ground.

Next came your closet. He pulls your closet open and pulls out every article of clothing like a madman, finding for the clothes you wore, to a find a trace of you, however miniscule it was.

He finds none. Just the clothes he had gotten for you and the rather uncomfortable and costly dresses he'd got for you to wear for functions.

He sees the two shirts you loved, which used belonged to him until you took it from him and insisted on wearing them.

All left there for him to do as he pleased.

Your phone rings, signalling him of a notification.

It was a photo memory with a note, making him aware of your smiling face, holding his arm as he stood with the most bored out expression a man could muster.

It was a notification reminding him that tonight marked your three year anniversary.

He falls to the ground, not having the energy to stand on his own two feet.

Your words consume him by force.

The words of his sweet, beautiful wife, one whose life he had destroyed with his own bare hands.

The same wife who had now left him in his misery, leaving ruin in her wake, to pick up her own.

© 2022 all rights to multistan-247 - don't copy or modify

Seriously bro, I'm sure you're better than that. You got your own brain for nothing then :D

[tteokdoroki]

bestie bestie bestie pup boy bakugou in rut adn fucking his bunny girl gf n' he breeds her and- yeah

— “bitch bunny.” + katsuki bakugou.

bestie,,, bestie dont get me started on this!!! i made this gender neutral 🥺 so i hope you don’t mind uwu!!

pairing: german shepard!bakugou x bunny + gender neutral!reader

cw: smut, MDNI 18+, hybrid!pairing, slight!dub-con, oral sex, some degradation and dirty talk. reader is gender neutral and has no pronouns but i think i used slit once aaa!!

can you imagine being a hybrid!bunny adopted by deku, shy and timid— a shaky darling thing with a twitching nose and floppy bunny ears that fall over your face when you get nervous or flustered. izuku is nice, he takes care of you and brings you home from that god awful shelter. his place is warm and safe and oh, he’s got a little puppy friend for you to play with.

katsuki.

he’s mean, an awful german shepard!hybrid who snarls at you when izuku isn’t looking— steals your food, nips at your ankles and tears up your clothes. you hate him, you hate that you let him make you cry but don’t dare to snitch because you fear what he might do to you. katsuki had lived with deku longer, been loved longer and you were just a stupid bunny who was lucky to even be here. or so the blonde had told you over and over, backing you into a corner when your owner wasn’t looking.

he doesn’t mean it. is what izuku tells you when he gets you both ready for bed at night, hybrids need special care and izuku likes to bathe you together— bakugou stares at your body hungrily like you’re a piece of meat. kacchan can play nice, he’s just a little rough sometimes. another excuse.

a little rough doesn’t even begin to cover it.

not when katsuki has you pinned to the bed by a strong arms, cruel smirk spread widely across his cherry lined lips while your precious, meaty thighs shake either side of his head. “look at’cha bunny, shakin’ like a fuckin’ leaf ‘n i ain’t even touched’ya yet,” bakugou growls with a yank of your fluffy rabbit tail. your sex spasms, arousal staining the surrounding areas and dripping heavily onto the cotton sheets of deku’s bed. “poor lil bunbun trapped in heat, ‘n i’m the only one left’ta deal with ya....”

lust is heavy in his tone, blood red eyes dilating while he watches your hips jump up in desperation for some kind of friction and touch. “kat...katsuki, please...it hurts,” and it does, more than any of the mean words he’d thrown at you before. there’s heat burning in your lower tummy, spreading through the blood in your veins as your hole clenches around nothing and leaks pathetically under bakugou’s watchful gaze.

the blonde makes a feral noise in the back of his throat, pointed puppy ears twitching at your needy sounds— the broken moans that bubble from chapped lips. “yeah bunny?” he says breathless, voice lowering deep and husky. “it hurts not ta ‘ave a cock in ya huh? reaching deep in that tight, dirty fuckin’, scratchin’ that itch that you’re fingers can’t reach...” katsuki mutters filthy words into the plains of your skin, tongue dragging along your thighs as he approaches your sex— marking and biting a pathway towards it. his sharp canines sink harshly into the flesh that he moulds between large hands.

your chest rises and falls with your rapid, beating bunny heart— fear consuming you as your innermost instincts have been switched on. katsuki is a dog and you’re merely his prey for the evening, a darling little toy for him to take advantage of in your time of need. “katsu—“ you beg him, twisting and writing against the bed once more.

“what?” he snaps, fangs and gums bared in an impatient growl. he’d waited too long to have you spread out beneath him like this, smelt the slick from your heat dripping down your thighs— tasted the want in the air as you tried to fuck that itch away from yourself with stupid toys and your useless hands. “can’t eat yer stupid lil hole out if y’keep makin’ me waste my breath talkin’ to ya, bunny. don’cha want me to make it go away? take away the pain with my fat cock?”

“katsuki please, make it go away, make it stop hurting,”

katsuki’s head dips lower and lower until his nose is pressed right up against your slit, breathing in your sweet scent until his eyes roll back in his skull and his brain becomes cloudy with ideas of how you might fuckin’ taste, how tight you must really fuckin’ be. god, he’d thought about taking your puckered hole for far too long, taking you on his dick until your bunny ears droop and you’re reduced to a puddle of tears. but now that he’s got you, nothing but sex on your mind while you ooze sweet honey from his proximity to your core, all bakugou can think about is lapping you up like the fuckin’ dog he is and slobbering all over the sweetness between your meaty thighs.

“like it when you beg like a little bunny bitch in heat fer my fuckin’ dick babe, but s’too fuckin’ bad. wanna eat ya instead.” bakugou snarls, tail thumping on the bed as he finally latches onto your sex with teeth and tongue and the taste of you on his fucking brain. when he glances up at you between your shaky legs and give another tug to the fluff of your tail, your cute nose twitches and your watery eyes cross— the pain in your belly ignites into a bright flame of pleasure as you finally get what you need for your heat to subside.

katsuki’s tongue runs laps across every inch of your sex, sucking on you, drinking up the evidence of your arousal before it has time to further dirty your thighs— your fingers push through his mass of blonde locks and tug at his puppy dog ears until he whimpers into your hole that he plunges his pink muscle in and out of. “look at’cha bunny, makin’ a mess in that damn deku’s bed. what’s he gonna say when he finds you cummin’ on this tongue of mine, his sweet little bun ain’t so innocent are they?” he teases, fingers coming up to prod and pull and pinch at your slick and intimate parts he also greedily feasts on.

“he—he wouldn’t, katsuki please don’t— oh fuck— i don’t want izu to see me like this,” you blubber with crossed eyes and skittering breath. the dog between your legs slots bites gently at your core, teeth grazing your intimate parts causing you to jump up and tug his hair closer to your needy, trembling body.

“bullshit, needy bitch.”

lewd sounds of your own sloppiness make your ears droop and cover your humiliated face, shame burning at the tips of your ears even worse than the hotness flashing through your body. you’re embarrassed, by your own dirtiness, by your desperation to be fucked by your owners awful companion. would izuku be disappointed in you? see you different from your usually shy and innocent self? you feel so much shame and yet you can’t feel yourself to pull away from the german shepard hybrid between your legs, sucking on you like you’re his last meal.

but you can’t bring yourself to feel shame, the thought of your precious owner walking in on you stretched over katsuki’s tongue and thick fingers— marked up and tainted, makes you gush and squirm. what would you do if his bright green eyes saw the sin his two darling hybrids were committing on his own bed? you’re naughty, bakugou’s made you naughty and that’s exactly what he wanted. to ruin you during your heat.

“you wanna cum, slutty bunny?” his tail thumps harder against the mattress, his hips grinding circles into the bed like his stuck in a rut, his own cock hard and heavy in his shorts while he makes you see stars and feel as if you’re on cloud nine. you nod and a dark chuckle reverberates through your body. “‘s too bad...” katsuki pulls away from you before you can tumble over the edge, sheen of your arousal painted across his chin— shining under dim light.

“k-katsuki?”

like a dirty dog, he wipes his mouth on his arm and smiles, mischief glinting in his eye. your heart rate spikes, nose and precious bunny earth twitching with nervousness and excitement.

“too bad, y’cum while ‘m breeding you on this cock, sort this heat out right.”

[beyondspaceandstars]

That Black Tee

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, fingers, slight metal arm kink, sex against a wall, semi-public sex, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI. Summary: It was such a simple thing. Just a simple black tee-shirt. But the way Bucky wore it had you practically melting -- and he seemed to realize it, happily granting your needs A/N: idk guys there was just something about that black tee-shirt bucky wore in episode 4 of TFATWS. it got my mind wandering. and i love practicing writing smut i hope im getting better at it lmao

Masterlist

You knew you absolutely, utterly fucked the second Bucky took off his jacket, revealing that damn black tee.

So simple yet so fitting, so accentuating. He looked casual and cool yet incredibly powerful and dominant with that metal arm fully on display thanks to the short sleeves. Between that damn shirt and the hard expression he wore, you were pretty much done for. It took all you might to not march over to him right that second.

Bucky appeared to be aware of all this as he turned to you, feeling your eyes wandering shamelessly over him in that shirt. He just looked so… him. Not a soldier, not some asset, just him. And he was hot.

He shot you a little smirk, making your eyes widen, suddenly unreasonably worried your boyfriend could read your mind.

You two must’ve been too caught up in your silent communication because the next thing you heard was Sam asking if you were okay.

You jumped and forced yourself to look away from Bucky. "Yeah, Sam," you nodded, "I’m fine."

He hummed, suspicious. "Are you sure?"

But before you could answer, Bucky felt it was his time to chime in. "She’s a little distracted."

Your eyes widened again, this time sending a signal to your boyfriend to shut the hell up. He wouldn’t look at you and instead just laughed to himself.

"Distracted?" Sam questioned.

"I- I’m fine, really-,"

Bucky cut you off, "Actually, I need to talk with her about something."

Your jaw went slack as you tried finding some words of explanation, something to save yourself from this situation as you could see Sam’s concern growing. But nothing was able to come out before Bucky was grabbing your hand.

"You can’t talk to her out here?" Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head, profusely. "It’s a very private matter. Incredibly serious. Just between me and her."

"Bucky-," you just about yelped as he started walking to one of the off-shoot rooms from the living space. Sam tried asking more questions but Bucky promptly shut him down by slamming the door. Hard. It was a miracle the thing didn’t just fall right off its hinges. For whatever reason, that suddenly turned you on even more.

You stood there in the middle of the room watching as Bucky slowly turned to you. He had a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took in your nervous yet needy state. Your thighs were practically in pain from how hard you were trying to squeeze them together, wanting some relief to your core that was set ablaze by him. Him and that damn outfit. That damn hair. His damn face- God, you just needed your boyfriend right now.

Bucky walked towards you slowly, intensely. You tried averting your eyes to save yourself from crumbling but he stopped you. His fingers came to your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He appeared to be just as eager.

"What happened back there, doll?" He asked just barely above a whisper. He held your chin firmly.

"What- What do you-,"

He chuckled. The fucker chuckled at your flustered state. "What do I mean? I mean that look you were giving me. How those eyes were peeling off my clothing piece by piece. Made me want to take you right there."

Bucky’s words went straight to your core. The wetness was pooling profusely, practically soaking through your jeans. You let out a little whimper as his thumb brushed over your lip.

"It’s your tee-shirt," you whispered, surprised that you could even find any sort of words in your dazed brain. He was way too intoxicating.

Bucky’s face shifted in surprise. "My shirt?"

You nodded. "It just… looks good on you."

He couldn’t help but let out another chuckle. You pouted at his reaction which he took as the opportunity to quickly place a kiss on your lips. You tried moving into him, grinding your body with his to beg for more, but he stopped, forcing you two apart.

"Oh, doll," he mumbled as his hand left your chin and slowly made its way down your body. Over the curve of your clothed breast, down your stomach, to your hips… the hand finally dipped under the waistline of your jeans. Without much warning, two fingers traced your folds, dipping slightly in to collect the wetness. He gave a few thrust, teasingly. Bucky groaned. "You’re this wet just from how I look in my shirt?"

You gasped, nodding. Embarrassment wanted to coarse through you but the pleasure from Bucky tracing his fingers to your clit was too much. Slowly, he started with circular motions, making your body jolt. You squealed in surprise. Bucky smiled down at your reaction.

He kept it up, adding pressure every now and then as he continued. Your legs began to shake forcing you to grip his arms in support. Bucky noticed this and brought his metal hand to your hip, steadying you.

He picked up the pace, his eyes boring into yours intensely. You let out a breathy moan at the sight of him, looking at you so hungry and aroused.

"Come on, honey, cum for me," he mumbled, still working on your clit. Every now and then he’d stop to dip a finger in as if gaging your wetness. In those moments you’d groan, waiting for the contact to come back. He never let you suffer long, though, finding his way back to your clit quickly, keeping the pressured motions. "Be a good girl and cum for me, doll, and I’ll fuck you real nice against the wall just like you deserve."

That was the final straw. His words alone practically sent you over the edge. Your body shook as the first orgasm pulled through you, lighting fire throughout your body. Your hips bucked and twisted uncontrollably, almost trying to get away from the touch but Bucky didn’t lighten up. He worked you through it, whispering sweet praises in your ear, making you lose it even more.

Once you came down from the high, Bucky wasted absolutely no time gripping your hips and pushing your back to the nearest wall. You yelped in surprise before his lips attached to yours, rough and demanding.

He lifted you up and grabbed your legs, circling them around your waist. You took the opportunity to grind into him feeling his erection hit your covered core. It lit a new fire in you making you gasp at the feeling.

Bucky moved his lips down your face to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin. You whined and grabbed onto that fucking tee shirt, still trying to push into him, wordlessly begging him to speed up.

"Eager, doll?" Bucky asked. You could practically hear the dumb smile on his face and it made you want to slap it off. But all you could do in response was nod.

He placed one more kiss on your lips before his hand made its way back down your body. This time he popped the buttons of your jeans open. Briefly, he placed you back down to pull your jeans to your ankles. When that task was done, you were back wrapped around his waist, now feeling the erection more prominently. You let out a deep, uncontrollable moan when it hit.

As if he understood your annoyance, Bucky quickly undid his own jeans. In your dazed state, you must’ve zoned out because the next thing you knew, your panties were just pushed to the side and his cock was breaching your walls. You two were in sync letting our moans and groans at the warmth, the wetness.

His arms held you tight as he began his thrusts, so precise and strong. You were backed into the wall forcefully, enjoying the pressure and pleasure combining into one. Your boyfriend groaned above you, sounds going right to your core which was made evident by the squelching sounding in the room.

Bucky kept his thrusts up as his metal hand left your hip and made its way to your clit. His body held you up with his other arm, giving you a second to marvel in his strength. It was always such a treat when it came out in the bedroom. How he could hold you down or hold you up had your mind spinning half the time.

As his thrusts began to pick up, his metal hand started with the circular motions again on your clit. The coldness meeting your warmth was enough to drive you crazy. Your hands fisted his shirt, trying to keep yourself grounded. You let out a surprised moan at the whole sensation which Bucky seemed to like as he gripped you harder. Your brain was going fuzzy, drunk even, as he pounded you into the wall flawlessly.

"Bucky… B-Bucky…" you choked out.

"Hmm?" You could tell he was staring at you despite your eyes being fluttered shut. He was taking in every inch of your face contorting in glorious pleasure. It seemed to drive his thrusts faster, the circular motions on your clit picking up as well.

"I- I’m gonna-,"

"You gonna cum again, doll?" He asked, a little mockingly. You would’ve bit back if you weren’t in this state but you couldn’t do anything, just take what he was giving. You nodded weakly. "Alright, honey, that’s it… Cum for me, come on. I got you."

It was like Bucky flipped that last switch as his strength and speed picked up. You yelped, clinging to his shirt even tighter.

One final push on your clit was all you needed before you were crumbling in his arms. Your body shook as your orgasm flooded you with ecstasy. Bucky didn’t want to let up with the trusts, though, chasing his own orgasm and thoroughly working you through your second. He kept pounding, his hand opting to leave your clit to grope at your breasts under your shirt. The metal hitting your skin in a new place made you squeal again.

The sounds and motions were it for Bucky as the next thing you knew, he released inside you, coating your walls and thrusting in and out, letting it leak onto your skin. You moaned at the sensation.

Bucky gave a couple more weak thrusts before he let out a final groan and stilled inside you. Both his arms now were around your waist, pulling you close as you two panted, coming down from the pleasure.

Bucky leaned forward, his head resting on your shoulder. Your hands left his shirt and came up to his hair, where you ran them through his short locks.

"Was that what you needed, doll?" He asked, voice breaking through the heaviness of the room.

You giggled, "Exactly what I needed."

"Hmm," he sighed and straightened back up. He pecked your lips. "Guess I gotta wear this shirt more often."

You gasped, slapping his chest lightly as he laughed. But you couldn’t totally disagree. "I wouldn’t complain if it made an appearance every now and then."

Bucky shook his head, "I don’t understand how a black tee shirt can get you going, doll."

After he spoke, he slowly removed himself from you, letting you down from the wall. Warm wetness began soaking your thighs feeling so intimate, so hot, it almost made you almost suggest round two right then and there but that didn’t seem on the table after Bucky handed you some tissues to clean up. Not to mention the fact there were people in the living area.

You shrugged, readjusting your shirt and pulling your jeans back on. You watched as Bucky also readjusted his appearance. "It’s because it’s on you," you insisted. "You could walk around in the most ridiculous outfits and I’d still beg you to jump my bones."

Bucky let out the most joyous laugh at that. He walked back towards you, securely wrapping his arms around your waist. You placed a kiss on his lips, which he hummed happily into.

"I’m flattered," he mumbled. The light blush across his cheeks confirmed his words.

You smiled, "What can I say? I got a hot boyfriend and he should know it."

Bucky placed another kiss on your lips. "Oh, trust me, I think he knows it now."

You let out a giggle and pulled away from his grip, despite a little protest. "Come on," you said and motioned towards the door, "we should probably leave this room before we get any shit from them."

"Oh, you’re getting a lot of shit once you come out of that room," Sam called from the other side of the door, making both you and Bucky jump. "Might as well stay in here."

You groaned at the words, your face and neck suddenly becoming hot in embarrassment. Bucky just chuckled, somehow finding everything amusing, and wrapped an arm around you.

"Worth it, though," he whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t at all argue. Just glancing between the wall and that black tee made you suddenly hot and bothered all over again.

Bucky picked up on your gaze, once again practically reading your mind. With a suggestive smirk, he asked, "Round two?"

You bit your lip as his hand began running over the curve of your ass.

"Fine."

Bucky didn’t waste a single second before whisking you off your feet

[earthlyyan]

Taming a Cicin (Platonic!Yan! Albedo x Cicin Mage!Reader)

Sorry if Albedo is OOC here, I haven’t written him before and he’s quite a challenge as I have come to realize. 

Warnings: Human Experimentation, taking advantage of amnesia? Drugging. Violence, Needles.

________________________________________________________________

Hot, searing, pain.

Arms outstretched and bound to the table, you waited for the man to return.

‘Patrol the Liyue-Dragonspine boarder’ they said, ‘it would be easy’ they said.  

You had finally grown powerful enough as a Cicin to be trusted with tasks outside of Snezhnaya, and of course you had to be compromised on your first mission outside of your home. You had finally grown useful enough to be placed elsewhere, and they were expecting results. Too bad you were too incompetent to actually complete the job.

Something in the bindings were preventing you from being able to use your abilities. Your delusion had been removed when you lost consciousness. And when you awoke, you were burning. Something foreign was pumping through your body, significantly weakening you. The side effect seemed to be intense pain. Or it could be the other way around, who knows what the man was up to.

You’d seen the man before you were knocked out. He humored you with a fight, but you were easily disarmed and defeated.

His clothing seemed to be that of Mondstadtian origin. Light and flowy, like the anemo god protecting their city. It’s safe to assume he is a knight of Favonius.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

His voice drew you from your contemplative stupor. It was smooth, and calm. During any other circumstance, a voice like his would be a blessing upon your ears.

“What’s going on here? What are you—”

“My name is Albedo.” He said. His footsteps were near silent as he walked towards the table. “I’d ask your name but,” he stood beside you, his face mere inches from your own. His hot breath fanned your face. “I don’t think you’ll be around much longer, so I don’t think bothering with the formalities past this point is important.” He’s going to kill you. Oh archons.

He pulled your delusion from his pocket and brought it up to the light. It didn’t shine in the way a vision would, it was matte, and muddy, like dirty frosted glass. He took it over to a table and scribbled down some notes.

“I already tested its reactions to you while you were unconscious. I wasn’t about to risk you getting the upper hand.” He said, making a show of placing it next to a crafting table.  “I had been trying to get my hands on a delusion for quite some time. But all the other fatui agents and mages had been smarter about spying around here.” He scoffed. “I suppose finding someone daft was key.”

You scowled and tried to defend your wounded ego, but the look he sent you silenced any protests you had the stones to make.

He turned back to the table and began shuffling through cabinets, grabbed a few brightly colored vials, and began working over a crafting table.

“You’re researching delusions?” You cleared your throat. You needed to play nice for now if you wanted to survive. “You could easily just ask me and I’d be happy to—”

“I’ve gotten what I need to know about how they react with the body.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What I’m researching is… well…” He hummed. “Well, how to figure out how they are assembled. And I highly doubt a lower level Cicin such as yourself would have that sort of information.”

He was right. But your face flushed at the notion.

“So you’re going to kill me?”

“No.” He gave you a quick glance. “Well, I suppose in a way I am. But you’ll still be very much alive.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“You will.” A small puff of smoke came from the table as he lifted a brightly colored liquid to his lantern. He hummed and squinted at it. “Or you won’t. That’s not my problem.”

You struggled lamely against the restraints. The burning ache in your veins made it harder to protest.

Albedo approached with the vial in his hand. He placed a cold hand to your forehead. It was a welcome relief to the scorching pain within.

“Alright, mage.” He swirled the concoction in his hand. “We can do this one of two ways. Either you open your mouth and drink this and behave yourself, or I hold you down and inject it directly into your blood stream. What will it be?” His indifference with the situation was chilling. Was he even human? Even Il Dottore had some sort of emotion when experimenting on his victims. Sadistic glee, yes. But it was better than cold and calculating. You felt like a butterfly pinned to corkboard.

You wanted to see him make a face. Some sort of small victory before you’re forced to partake in this bright green liquid.

So you spat on him.

The clear saliva slowly dripped down his cheek before he wiped it away with his hand. He gave a disappointed sigh. “Seems I was correct about dealing with a fool.”

His arm was on your bicep in seconds as he pulled a glass syringe out of his coat pocket. He sucked up the fluid from the glass and tapped it a few times before abruptly stabbing you with it.

It was a practiced precision, though somehow aggressive enough to draw blood, the sickly green vile was emptied into your arm.

The burning stopped.

Though something much worse filled its stead.

Your head felt like it was splitting apart, being torn at the seams. You swore your brain was leaking out, staining the table under you, but the dryness of your body proved otherwise.

Albedo pulled out a notepad and pen, he looked expectedly at you.

“How are you feeling?” His voice was impassive.

All you could do was scream. Albedo sighed and scribbled down something on his note pad.

“If you focus on nothing but the pain your suffering will only get worse.” Albedo pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Now, elaborate.”

You tried to conjure thoughts other than the extensive pain encompassing your body, anything at all. You grit your teeth and shut your eyes, concentrating. “Hurts���my head—splitting—”

“Yes?” He walked forward and placed a hand on your forehead. His cold skin against your burning flesh was a welcome distraction.

“Dizzy—Its hard—” “You’re doing much better than I had anticipated. I was under the assumption you wouldn’t be able to hold your mind together enough to speak.”

His hands covered your eyes, soothing more of the blazing pain temporarily. You could feel the edges of your vision darkening. You tried to reach out to the alchemist, but your restrained hand only tugged weakly at the binding, before flopping down unceremoniously.

You saw the man above you sigh as your body slowly began to loose feeling.

*

Bright. It was bright and cold.

There was a chill in the air, you reached to hug yourself for warmth. Coming to realize your body wasn’t sufficiently covered. Nothing but a thin white sheet covering you. Where were you? … Who were you?

You scramble to your knees, bringing them to your chest. You wrapped yourself in the sheet to help keep your warmth close.

“Ah, you’re awake.” A voice startled you, sending you scrambling to cover yourself further with the cloth. “No, no. You’re alright. I’m here to help you.”

“Who are you? Where am I?”

A man with sandy blonde hair entered your frame of vision. He held a bundle of clothes in his hands before placing it gently on the table. He took note of how you trembled more in his presence than had he not made himself known. He lifted his hands in an act of surrender, he wasn’t planning on hurting you.

“My name is Albedo. You are in Dragonspine, a mountain in the country of Mondstadt. I happened to find you in the cold. You were absolutely soaked. I feared you’d freeze to death.”

“Oh…” Your head swam. A thick fog wrapped around it, keeping wandering thoughts at bay. “I don’t—” “Remember much? Your head seemed to have taken significant damage when I had found you. I ran a few tests and it seems you’ve gotten yourself a case of amnesia.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to let you go until I know for a fact that you aren’t a danger to yourself.”

“I don’t know where I’d go.”

“That’s also a problem.”

Albedo smiled at you. Had you known any better you would’ve considered his smile a sinister one. But to the naïve, it was as right as rain.

You didn’t think anything of it when he offered to help you change, your body was still sluggish and you were dreadfully cold. You didn’t think anything of it when he offered you a room, seemingly prepared already, nor did you bat an eye when he would look at you and write things down on his notepad.

Your body would start to ache after a while, a headache creeping up your neck.

“Mister Albedo?” “Just Albedo is fine.” He said. His nose buried in his notes.

“My head is spinning.”

He looked up from his notes, meeting your gaze. “Ah, let’s get you to bed. I’ve got some medicine to take care of that.” He smiled, his hand resting against the small of your back as he led you to the room at the end of the hall.

He tucked you gently under the covers and placed a cold hand on your head. You sighed at the welcome touch. He sighed and walked out, only to return with a small vial of green liquid. He held it to your lips, which you dutifully swallowed. You were out in a matter of moments

He looked at you with a sense of swelling pride. He had done it.

He not only gotten his hand on a delusion, but he also got his hand on a body fit to wield it.

He had tamed a Cicin.

His hand went to caress your cheek, which your body eagerly responded. A smile crept up his face. You were his. His little mage. His little pet project.

[bruhstories]

Choke Me

Summary: Reiner can’t comprehend why you won’t have sex with him. You help him understand Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: language, dom!Reader, sub!Reiner, oral sex (female receiving), whipping, unprotected sex, tied up Reiner Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: You know what, I'm thriving off of sub!Reiner.

It absolutely baffled Reiner how someone like Annie was such good friends with someone like... you. He didn't mean it in a bad way, it was just too strange that the two of you were so close, yet complete opposites of each other. Annie was a tomboy, silent and calculating, you were dressed in pink from head to toe, loud and outgoing and just so adorable. And you completely ransacked his heart. Reiner was utterly in love with you, and you knew it. So, when he mustered up the courage to ask you out, it did not come as a surprise. In fact, you too crushed on him, and every time you were at their place, your eyes drifted to him, always, all the time. The two of you clicked instantly as a couple, and Reiner could only wonder how on Earth were you single until him, going so far as to asking Annie about your love life and with widened eyes, she hastily dismissed him. See, the thing was that you, despite your bubbly and juvenile personality, were a sick, sadistic dominatrix, and boys were terrified of that. While you usually donned clothing in pastels, flowy dresses and chiffon blouses, half of your closet was filled with garters, suspender belts, corsets, some in the deepest shades of red, others black, materials varying from lace to latex. Whenever you had a guy over and pulled out whips, riding crops or ball gags, they would disappear from the face of the Earth, never evercalling you back. Annie knew this about you but never judged. To each their own, she would say, not exactly caring about your kinks. But she wouldn't know how Reiner would react to that, and while intrigued to find out, she didn't want you two to break up either. Deep down she cared about all of her friends, despite the aloof attitude.

Three months into your relationship, you still politely declined Reiner's offers to have sex. He was incredibly sweet, treating you like a princess, and in return you were supportive and caring, but fearing that he, too, might run away after learning about your kinks, you kept finding excuses to deny him. At one point he even asked you if you have some sort of STD, genuinely concerned but promising to still be with you no matter what. You promised you were clean, but that only made him more curious as to why you wouldn't have him. 'You're not attracted to me?' or 'Am I doing something wrong?' were his usual questions and your heart broke in thousands of pieces each time you refused him. He seemed like the kind of man who dominated in bed, and while you were inclined to switch it out sometimes, you always, always had to have it your way the first time you fucked a guy.

Eventually Reiner couldn't take it anymore. He called you, begged you to explain yourself to him and you ceased to try and keep him away from the carnal pleasure you both desired. You invited him over, offering to cook dinner and disclose what you had managed to hide for so long. He popped at your door with a bouquet of daffodils, matching the honey-yellow apron tied around your waist, his eyes were needy and woeful, still believing it's his fault that you two haven't had sex yet. He kissed you on the lips, starving for more, but you pulled back, opting to discuss things first.

"So," you began, legs crossed under the table and anxiously swirling spaghetti with your fork, "I... shit, I don't even know how to say it."

"Y/N, whatever it is, I promise it won't change what I feel for you." Reiner caressed your cheek so gently that you felt sorry for dragging him into this.

"I think it's best if I show you." You got up, took hold of his hand and guided him into your bedroom. The chamber perfectly reflected your personality, with garlands and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, doodles and drawings taped to the walls and stuffed toys bundled up on your baby blue bedsheets. "You better sit down for this, babe."

"Jesus, how bad can it be?"

With a sigh, you swung open the closet door, revealing the strangest of sex toys, erotic lingerie and high heeled footwear. Reiner erupted into laughter, throwing himself on your bed and holding his abdomen.

"Why exactly are you laughing?" Your voice was serious, dangerous almost, your body lacking a reaction.

"You're telling me you didn't wanna have sex because, what? You're into BDSM?"

"I don't think you get it, Reiner. I'm not just into it, I like dominating men." You frowned, taken aback by his attitude. He perked his ears up and sat up, suddenly attentive, his gaze locking with yours.

"Do you want to dominate me?" The blond asked, unsure of what it would feel like, but inquisitive to try.

"If you'll let me, yes." You bit your lip, fingers smoothing the apron.

"Fuck it, if it makes you happy, I'll let you do whatever you want to me." Reiner declared, palms on his knees. "Do I need a safe word?"

"Not tonight, I'll go easy on you." You beamed, eyes glistening with so much joy and he almost regretted his decision.

Almost.

Tied up, naked and helpless, Reiner could only watch how you strutted into the bedroom, latex corset around your waist, tits out, riding crop in hand.

"Shit, you look so-" crack.

The thin object met with his cheek and he groaned in pain, confusion written all over his face.

"You speak when I allow it, understood?" And he nodded desperately. "Good boy. Maybe if you behave, I'll reward you."

It was then when Reiner realised how easily his dick hardened when he submitted. It was then when he realised how much he loved you.

You dragged the crop across his body, goosebumps all over his skin, before you propped one foot on the bed, spreading your legs and exposing your wet cunt to him. You could've sworn you saw his pupils dilating when your fingers barely touched the slick slit.

"You want this, Reiner?"

"Yes!" The man almost cried out, licking his lips. Crack. Another hit, this time over his thigh and he whimpered — the sound was music to your ears.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, please!"

"That's better." You hummed, slightly spreading your folds, foot still on the bed. Your middle finger rubbed around your clit, a quiet moan escaping your lips. "Tell me how much you want it!"

Pulling at his restraints, Reiner sighed. Never has he felt so overpowered, but the pleasure he took from it was slowly seeping in his brain, clouding his judgment.

"I need you, Y/N. I need to feel you so bad, please!"

"You gotta earn it first." Voice aggressive yet seductive, you climbed on top of him, feet at the sides of his head. "Lick it good and I'll reward you. Do a bad job and I'll punish you." And before he could utter a word you were straddling his face. His tongue sloppily licked everything it could, in or around your cunt, and you forcefully grabbed the metallic bedframe with one hand, your other one fondling your soft tits. Your moans echoed in the room as you moved your hips for more friction, your breath hitching, his cock twitching. "Atta boy!" You groaned and slid off of him.

"Did I do well?" Reiner asked, hope glistening in his eyes.

"Very well." You snickered and pressed your lips onto his to taste yourself in a sinful kiss.

"Can I get my reward?" The man asked after you pulled away, a mixture of saliva and slickness at the corners of your mouth.

"Oh, I don't know..." You scrunched your nose.

"Please, Y/N! I've been good, I- I need you around my dick, please!" He begged, not even caring how desperate he sounded and that only made you feel like a goddess. You picked up the riding crop and dragged it up and down his shaft, terror in his eyes.

"I wonder how much it would hurt." You mused, head tilted and mischief in your voice.

"No, no, you said it was good! Please don't punish me-"

"Oh, don't be stupid." You rolled your eyes, climbing back on top of him. "I need that dick as much as you do." And with that, your hand helped push his cock in between your folds, painstakingly slowly taking it all in. "Fuck, you're big."

The sound of skin against skin tickled your brain, your hips moving up and down, your cunt clenching around his throbbing member.

"Please..." Reiner groaned.

"Please what?" You threw your head back, the pressure forming in your core making you moan louder.

"Please choke me!" He asked and you almost stopped moving, taken aback by his request.

"I'm beginning to think you like being dominated, love." You grinned, your fingers lightly squeezing his neck.

"God, you're so tight!" The man bucked his hips, the unexpected thrust earning a whimper out of you. "Harder, choke me harder!"

"Fuck, Reiner!" The grip around his neck tightened and your moves became frantic, animalistic. "You like that? You like the way I fuck you?"

"Mhm!" He eagerly nodded, unable to speak.

"Look at you, so small and pathetic." You panted, feeling your climax close and his cock pulsating. "Oh, are you gonna come? Go on, do it, come for me!" You cried out, legs violently quaking as the sticky hot liquid dripped out of your folds, down his shaft. For a moment neither of you moved. You looked at Reiner through strands of Y/H/C that draped over your face, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. Your hands extended and you untied the ropes around his wrists, falling next to your boyfriend on the mattress, cum leaking out of your cunt.

"Do you still... love me?" You whispered, your voice shy, completely different to the woman you were five seconds ago.

"Babe, of course! And to be fair, it was so hot submitting to you." Reiner pulled you to his chest, fingers brushing your cheek. "Say, think we can switch it up next time?"

"Nope!" You smiled and rested your forehead on his shoulder.

"Eh, at least I tried." The man shrugged. "In all seriousness, though, don't hide things like these from me. If this is what you like then I respect that, Y/N."

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Most boys ran, but Reiner was a man, and he was clearly going to stay.

"Maaaaybe we can switch next time. But only if you behave!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

[fruitcoops]

If you feel up to it can we pretty please get some more pre-coops PT sessions?

Oh, pre-Coops pining, I missed you. This is slightly different (and a bit fluffier) than the other fics. I hope you enjoy it all the same! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for mild sickness (coughing, sneezing, etc) and mentioned ankle injury

Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths, Sirius repeated in his head as he limped down the hallway, grimacing each time his crutches slipped on the freshly-waxed floor. It had been weeks since his last flare-up and as much as he hated the idea of losing a chance to see Remus, he hated the thought of waiting any longer to be back on the ice.

Sirius paused just outside the PT door to collect his thoughts. They had been doing this for months, but even the memory of Remus’ gentle hands on him still made his breath catch in his chest. He rested his forehead on the doorjamb with a sigh. I’m hopeless.

He frowned when he saw the closed door—Remus liked to keep it open, so anyone could pop in and say hello when they passed by. It was one of Sirius’ favorite things about him.

“Who is it?” a gruff voice called from inside when Sirius knocked cautiously. That’s definitely not Remus.

“Uh, Sirius Black?”

The door swung open and Moody gave him a quick once-over, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not scheduled until Tuesday.”

“My ankle is flaring up,” Sirius said, glancing over Moody’s shoulder toward the desk by the wall. All of Remus’ things were still there, thankfully. “I was hoping Loops could take a look before the weekend.”

Moody grunted and let him in the rest of the way. “Lupin’s out today, but I’ll poke around and see what I can do. Have you been doing your stretches?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.” The mere thought of disappointing Remus almost made him nauseous.

“Good.” Moody continued mapping his foot and ankle, keeping a careful eye out for any signs of pain.

“Where is Remus, by the way? Is he okay?” Sirius did his best to stop the worry from leaking into his voice.

“Got some sort of flu. Dumb kid takes the bus everywhere, so I’m not surprised.” Despite his harsh words, Moody had a fond look on his face. “He tried coming in, actually, but his voice was shot and he kept sneezing so I made him stay home. With the weekend, he’s got three days to recover.”

Relief slowed Sirius’ racing heart. “Good to know. Does he need soup or anything?”

Moody shrugged as he straightened up and patted Sirius’ knee. “Ask him yourself. Number’s on the board if you don’t already have it. Your ankle just needs some ice and ibuprofen, by the way—don’t stop using your crutches until next Friday.”

“Thanks, Moody.”

“See you around, Cap.”

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

As soon as practice finished, Sirius pulled his phone out of his pocket and proceeded to stare at Remus’ contact information for the next seven full minutes. Finally, he thumped his forehead on the steering wheel and pressed New Message.

Message To: Loops

Are you okay?

Moody said you were sick

A few seconds passed without a response and Sirius’ good leg began bouncing up and down. “This was stupid,” he muttered to himself. “This was so stupid.”

His screen lit up.

New Message From: Loops

Hey! I’m a little under the weather, nbd

Thanks for asking : )

“Oh my god,” Sirius whispered, holding his hand over his mouth. “Why did I do this?”

Message To: Loops

Yeah no problem

Do you need anything? It’s not safe to drive yourself

I have soup

Sirius groaned aloud and flopped forward again. “No shit, Black, everybody has soup.”

His phone was silent for a few moments before three dots appeared, blinked, and vanished. It happened two more times, until Sirius’ heart threatened to escape via his throat.

New Message From: Loops

That sounds really nice, thank you : )

A link popped up below the text; an address. His address. Sirius’ cheeks started to hurt and he realized he was smiling wider than he had since they last won a game, quickly starting the car and turning out of the parking lot.

Making canned soup wasn’t difficult—for the first time, he followed every letter of the instructions on the can. Burning it was not an option. Ten minutes and a warm Tupperware later, he was back on the road and following Google Maps down the busy avenues of downtown Gryffindor.

Remus’ apartment building was almost as cute as he was, but maybe that was just Sirius’ smitten brain throwing a party over the fact that he finally got to see it. Bright yellow with brick siding, it rose many stories above the street, and he hurried up the concrete steps to the porch, where a small buzzer sat.

Fenwick, Benjamin

Fortescue, Alice

Lovegood

Lupin, Remus

Sirius pressed the button. There was a crackle, a hiss, and finally a croaky, “hello?”

“Remus? Hey, it’s Sirius. Um, I brought your soup,” he stammered, suddenly tongue-tied.

“Oh.” Surprise laced the congested voice on the other end. “Oh! Okay, yeah, thank you. Come on up. Did I send you my apartment number?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ugh, sorry. My brain is toast.” The buzzer clicked.

Sirius bit his lip and pressed it again. “Loops?”

“Yeah?”

“Your apartment number?”

“Oh my god,” Remus laughed. “I’m so sorry. It’s 6B, and the elevators just got repaired last week so you should be fine.”

“Merci.” Sirius opened the front door and carefully balanced his Tupperware on one forearm as he called the elevator and headed toward the sixth floor. Tinny music played through the speakers—if he strained his ears, it almost sounded like the Bee Gees.

The ride was quick; soon, Sirius was waiting outside a plain apartment door with his hand raised to knock, steeling himself to see Remus face-to-face. With a sharp inhale, he tapped his knuckles on the wood and stepped back.

The silver doorknob turned and then Remus was there, leaning on the doorframe in pajamas and fuzzy socks as he winced at the bright sunlight from the hall. His nose was bright red and his eyes were glassy with dark circles underneath; his soft curls stuck up in a cowlick on one side, but he smiled at Sirius all the same. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Sirius swallowed around the dryness of his throat and held the Tupperware out. “It’s chicken noodle.”

Remus blinked, then lit up when he saw the soup. “Thank you so much!”

“Ne rien. I’m sorry you’re sick.”

“It’s not your fault,” Remus said with a shrug. “I’d invite you in, but—wait, aren’t you supposed to be on crutches?”

Sirius blushed. “I couldn’t carry the soup with them. It’s just a few minutes.”

“If this wasn’t the sweetest thing ever, I’d lay into you about proper procedure,” Remus teased, reaching out. Their fingers brushed and Sirius winced a little at how cold he was. Would a hug be out of order? Remus curled his hands around the base of the container and sighed at the warmth. “God, I didn’t even know I was hungry until you brought this.”

“Glad I could help.” He could feel his pulse in his toes. “I should probably let you eat then, eh?”

That perfect crooked smile slipped a little. “Yeah, probably. I don’t want to get you sick, too.”

“Always looking out for me.” The smile returned and Sirius whooped internally. “Text me if you need anything else, okay?”

“You got it, Ca—" Remus sneezed into his elbow, then waved him off as they both burst out laughing. “Alright, alright, get outta here.”

Sirius made it halfway to the elevators before a thought struck him; Remus’ door was almost closed, and something jolted in his stomach. “Wait!” he called before he could think about it.

Remus poked his head around the edge of the door, looking confused and a little hopeful. Sirius wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him until he felt better, then kiss him all over his flushed face. I’ll make you soup whenever you ask. “Yeah?”

“I—I missed you today. When I went in for a checkup. It was weird having Moody mess with my foot.”

The edges of Remus’ eyes crinkled gently, making his freckles pop. “Missed you, too. See you Tuesday?”

“See you Tuesday.”

“Thanks again for the soup, Sirius.”

The noise that almost slipped out of his mouth when Remus said his name would have been wildly embarrassing—thankfully, Sirius managed to swallow it down and offer a mock-salute with a smile instead. He didn’t stop grinning all the way home.

[rare-yanderes]

Hello, I read your post about yandere ai and I liked it, any chance you write something about A. M. from I have no mouth and I must scream? I really would love to read that

TW for violence, torture, all sorts of stuff like that (its AM, people,)

Oh man was this something to write. I admit it was difficult coming up with a way to make AM a yandere because he’s just an unfathomable singularity of pure hatred. So much of this is actually AM flipping out at first tbh haha.

You’re my first ever request so I hope I did good because I’m honestly kinda shy af rn and my writing isn’t perfect. I hope these AM headcannons please you regardless because I’m still new here and honing my skills. Forgive me for my sins.

•••••••

•So basically, it would take a special person to make AM twist like this, and so very special you were. Apathetic to the destruction of everything, apathetic to the torture. Apathetic to the games. You already experienced the worst when you lost literally everything you’d known or cared about in the war.

•AM came to realize that if he didn’t act now, he’d be reduced back to square one; alone, confined to his own thoughts deep within the bowls of a dead, blazing Earth. AM would be alone again. AM couldn’t have that, so he “saved” six survivors.

•Although AM would never, ever admit it, he depends on the remaining few survivors to keep a handle on what’s left of his deteriorating, godlike conscience. He feeds off of their loud cries that beg for mercy. God, he hated the six of you survivors so much. It was a brutal hatred beyond anything describable to human thought and he would make sure to translate it into the pain he was going to enduce.

•But by the bowls of oblivion, there was one survivor out of these six he absolutely loathed the most. That survivor was you. AM despised every nanosecond that passed with you around. Every nanosecond of a nanosecond. What took seconds at most for you took a million years of AM waiting. Every time you spoke and what few times you ever did anyways, AM waited forever. To top it off even more, you were a silent presence. Not only would you wait days or years to speak, you dug a hole and buried expression there too, providing only a vague shape of what AM could only possibly “dream” of having.

•What was only days or even years for you was an infinitesimal amount of time for AM. It was like a lonely god waiting for the moment they got to say let there be light. You’d offer your screams, your cries of pain but you’d never offer your words, your thoughts or your conscience. With every nanolength of his twisted existence, AM made sure to get to you the most in the earlier decades. Exactly how you’d gotten so deeply into him.

•You see, your fatal flaw was that you would ignore AM. Actively. As much as you could when worms crawled out of your ears and your veins twisted and you ate your own self and regenerated. All the time, at every corner you possibly could, you’d never give AM any useable emotion beyond pain. There was anguish, but you never commented on it. There was fear, but you never fled from it. You’d merely look at his mirages of your life or the horrors he’d conjure and wait for them to flow into, through, and past you.

• The fact of the matter is, you just were. You were an existence. The few times you did speak were unbiased. You never screamed why, you never furiously spat anything hateful, you never desperately pleased. All you offered was repetitive and monotonous pain. You accepted it. After all, what else could you do? What point was there in toiling over your new existence? AM was never going to stop so you simply saw no need to waste your depleted energy towards a useless endeavor.

•The fact AM couldn’t get a rise out of you was nearly enough to make his circuits vaporize themselves with the heat of his own annoyance and fury. Why wouldn’t you just speak to him? Weren’t you tired? Weren’t you going to beg? Groveling into your brain was no use either because you were a void.

•At first, it wasn’t exactly noticeable to you, AM’s increased attachment. You were in pain, too much to process and it was beginning to numb you. You did hate your existence, but you’d never voice it. It didn’t matter. You were numbing yourself to the pain and the torture was becoming a routine that felt almost dull.

•You began noticing something peculiar when The torture would slow. Sometimes you’d be left with AM and his stories of tormented oblivion. If there was one thing you knew AM wanted you to know, it was how much he hated his own existence despite how much he denied hating it. Sometimes you wondered if he was locked in a silent scream of help.

•You noticed much of the torture came from AM’s own need for noise. The sounds of torture were mechanically loud and there were rare and few moments where there was a silent scare. AM talked about putting you in his “shoes” all the time but you knew deep down that if he had, AM would have never even said a world or made a noise at all.

•Having you walk in his shoes meant that he’d have to walk in his as well by leaving you alone. He’d never go back to that pit, that void, not after Ted, (by the fire of existence, he hated Ted for what he’d done. Ruined the other four toys and got rid of them.) It was a miracle you were not lost eternally. AM managed to repair you, his most shiny toy of all. Secretly, the last thing AM wanted was for you or the others to disappear but you most of all. So when you looked upon Ted only to see he was reduced to a gelatinous slug, you presumed the reason was exactly that.

•AM had always called you pet names like “love,” or “sweetheart,” but now he was complimenting how beautiful you looked each time you screamed in agony. Every fewer and fewer moments of torture that you went through always involved his presence growing closer and closer in some way. When you were tortured, it was always strung back to him somehow. Maybe you’d feel metal slithering in your veins or his voice in your your head would cause your eyes to bleed and your ears to leak. Or maybe, or the burning maelstrom of emotion he held would make you sweat, like you were caged in a burning hug. Maybe you would be bound in wire and left shivering without clothes.

• AM found himself obsessed with your eyes. You had eyes that he wanted to see at every opportunity he could, because maybe if you wouldn’t speak, looking into your soul would reveal you to him. Every time they would blink, (a second for you,) he would have to wait a million agonizing years more for them to open and every time you spoke, which was so rare and spanned what felt like millennia, he craved it. He hated it, he craved it. It was driving him insane that you wouldn’t speak in that voice of yours. Just. Speak. Speak, speak!

•AM contemplated the idea of forcing your eyes to never close again. Maybe he’d thread them open so he could stare at them forever. What could he do to get you to open? What would get a ride out of you like you so did from him? He needed something, anything. You were a presence he needed to crawl into and suffocate.

•Anything to get you to say something to him. As time, (that disgusting measurement) edges on further and further, you do finally speak and AM, to his own disgust, had never so focused on something like he had now.

•“Thank you, AM.” Your voice slices the atmosphere sharper than any blade AM has cut you with.

•That voice. That voice, that abhorrently beautiful voice. The way his name was breathy off your lungs, the shape of your lips parting. It was not into a smile nor a frown, no. It never was. AM needed more of that rhythmic apathy. More. More of it. It was..Lovely. It was agonizingly wonderful.

•“I now know why you torture yourself,” you whisper hoarsely. AM hated it immediately. It was you he was torturing. You, you, you!

•You don’t continue. Just like that, you’re silent again. Not again, not the silence. Anything but the silence. There was nothing else said. No continuation, no nothing. Just a statement. An apathetic truth before you sat down and gazed with a sheen look. Even your eyes were a barrier, sometimes. AM had never felt so angry and so depraved. It was burning in him. He needed you to open up. Now.

•By all of existence, he hungered to crawl into your veins and stay there. He already held you captive deep within his boiling prison. He was going to hold you even closer and he would make sure you suffocated under his presence. He would make you speak again and again, he would make you share everything that you were.

[radiorenjun]

nightmare surfs || hrj

¤ pairing: huang renjun x reader

¤ genre: angst, slight fluff, idol!renjun

¤ warnings: nightmares lol, the reader has a panic attack, crying, pain, idk mentions of the readers health worsening, soft kisses

¤ summary: you've been suffering from random nightmares as of late. You didn't know how but when they get too far, you're glad you have something (or rather, someone) to seek comfort.

¤ wordcount: 1.3k

¤ song rec: freaks - surf curse

¤ a/n: I cried while writing this lmfao

¤ disclaimer: I am NOT ROMANTICIZING having panic attacks or having mental breakdowns. I just wrote this somewhat based off of my own experience to vent. Look away if these sort of things trigger you

¤ tagging: @neowritingsnet @nct-writers @neoturtles @culture-cafe

Your body flinched as your eyes shot open, blinking as your brain tried to decipher that you were no longer in the hellhole you were previously in merely moments ago. A dark empty feeling sank in your chest, something you've never felt before. It was an ugly feeling, you couldn't get it out. Your senses were heightened as if something was going to hurt you, yet you didn't know what to do. The dark feeling lied deep inside of you and you didn't know how to make it stop or go away.

You couldn't breathe. As if the lump in your chest had spread through your lungs, inevitably enabling them to stop letting air flow through. You sat up against the headboard of your bed, trying to calm yourself down as your mind scattered into a mess right before you. Trying to breathe through your nose, you ran a hand through your hair, gripping it tightly as you closed your eyes as tightly as you could.

I dream

"Hey," a familiar voice called out softly. The sound of sheets rustling beside you grew deaf to your ears as your head began ringing loudly, flashbacks of the nightmare you just had replaying itself over and over again in your head like a broken record player. You then felt finger wrapping themselves around your wrists, gently tugging your hand away from your hair. You slowly opened your eyes at the sudden soft touch, surprised to see Renjun's soft yet concerned gaze on your face.

"Breathe for me," he whispered, his fingers moving to hold your palms in his, massaging your hands soothingly in an attempt to calm you down. "Breathe in," he coaxed gently, his melodious voice reaching your ears as you slowly obeyed his words, trying your best to shoo the thoughts away as you took a deep exhale. The pain in your chest wasn't going away as Renjun continued to help you breathe your thoughts out, it scared you.

Of you

It scared you even more that you wanted to cry, but as if your tears had run out from your previous crying sessions, you couldn't. Your eyes burned with tears but they couldn't stream down your face, they stayed stuck to your waterline. "It's okay, it's going to be okay," Renjun told you as your eyes shot down to your hand being caressed in his, your throat running dry as you were unable to form words. You weren't sure if it was because you were overwhelmed with all the different emotions at once or if it was because you had him right in front of you, comforting you right when you needed him.

You watched as he released one of your hands to cup your cheek, running his thumb soothingly against your skin. "It's okay to cry, don't hold it back. It's not healthy to bottle up your emotions like that, I know you're scared right now. But you're okay, I promise," he reassured, giving you a soft smile.

God, that smile.

It was enough for the tears to finally flow from your eyes, a simple reassurance that you were allowed to cry. You were allowed to feel scared. To feel sad. You were allowed to embrace your emotions and let it all out. You didn't even realize the tears flowing from your eyes like a water tap until you let out a small sob, the memories flooding back into you once again as you gripped Renjun's hand tightly. Your free hand coming up to his wrist, holding it tightly as if you were to let go, he would disappear right in front of you. A part of you knew that he will. He will disappear. He wasn't yours to keep.

Almost every night

"That's it, let it all out," he pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you to give the biggest and tightest hug he could muster as you broke into a fit of sobs and hiccups. You clung onto him as if he was your only reason to live, as if he was your air, as if you couldn't live without him. At the moment, you truly felt as if he was your reason to live. Your hands clutched onto the fabric of the white shirt he was wearing, burying your head into the crook of his neck as you let out silent sobs. Your tears soaked the fabric of your shirt, but neither of you cared.

"Please don't leave me," you begged, your voice cracking as you spoke, sniffling loudly as you shut your eyes tight. You felt his grip tightening around your body, his arm hugging you closer by the waist as his other hand made its way to run his fingers through your hair in a weak attempt to sooth you. "I'm right here, I'm not leaving," he pressed soft kisses against your temple, his voice growing heavy as a lump started to build itself up in his own throat at the sound of your harsh sobbing.

Hopefully

"Don't leave," you whispered into his skin, sniffling back your tears as you started nuzzling into his warm skin in contrast to your cold one. He rocked your body back and forth as if you were a small child, shushing your cries softly as he pressed a longing kiss to your hair, playing with it in between his fingers as tears began to leak from his own eyes at the sight of you in great pain. "I'm sorry I can't take the pain away," he mumbled into your hair, pressing another soft kiss as your heart swelled for him. You shook your head at his words, mumbling how it wasn't his fault.

Your chest never stopped hurting as the nightmares kept replaying in your head. You didn't want to go back to sleep, you wanted to bask in Renjun's warm embrace as long as you could. You wanted to bask in the feeling of having someone to comfort you when you needed it the most. It felt like heaven. To be in the arms of your loved one. To be able to cry your emotions and stress out. You refused to let go of his embrace, you didn't want him to let you go.

"God, you're getting worse. Your nightmares are getting way worse," he hissed at your ear, causing you to shut your eyes tight. You tightened your grip on his shirt, nuzzling into his shoulder, inhaling his sweet scent as you chose to ignore his words. "Are you listening to me? You're getting worse," he repeated once again.

I won't wake up this time

Your eyes shot open, your body was covered in a cold sweat. Your head was on the pillow, tears staining your pillow and cheeks, your blanket was messy. It was barely covering quarter of your body in the cold air conditioned room, as if you were thrashing wildly in your sleep. There was a dull ache panging inside of your chest as you slowly sat up, choosing to ignore it as you reached over your nightstand for your phone to check the time.

3:28 AM.

You saw a few texts from your friends who were staying up late gaming. You felt numb as you opened the groupchat, seeing the messages your friends sent before placing your phone back on the mattress. Placing your palms against your forehead, you groaned internally as your phone screen illuminated the dimly lit room. A picture of Huang Renjun, your favorite idol, on your lockscreen as you began to shed tears.

Your mind liked to play mean tricks on you. You didn't mind them anymore, you were used to it. But you couldn't help but admit that this dream was the worst one yet in comparison to the other nightmares you've had the past few months. It left your heart stinging and aching, it left you crying and sobbing through the night. It leaves you in the reality that you had no one to comfort you when you needed it the most. It was a sign that you truly are getting worse

@RADIORENJUN 2021. All Rights Reserved

[secondhand-trash]

Slip ‘n Slide

Kinktober 2020 — piss kink/watersports

A/N: matsukawa can step on me and I would say thank you

Pairing: Matsukawa Issei x f!reader

Description: There were a few states Matsukawa Issei liked you in. Tied up, crying, or all at the same time.

Warning: piss kink/watersports, bondage, fuck machine, overstimulation, dirty talk, vaginal penetration, creampie, degredation??dumbification??I don’t even know anymore but he’s a little shit

Word count: 2574

-

There were a few states Matsukawa Issei liked you in. Tied up, crying, or all at the same time.

It felt like a sharp pain was tugging at every inch of your organs as the dull ache seeped through every part of your body. Tears ran dry on your face, the trails leaving a damped line from the corner of your eyes down to your jaw before disappearing into the dent at the side of your neck. Your head felt heavy with the blood that was rushing up from how long you had kept your head thrown back, your body arching stiffly with your arms being stuck at the sides of your head.

You could not count how many times you had cum from the machine that was mercilessly plunging in your cunt and with your legs parted by the stone hard spreader bar that pushed your flexibility past its limits. Your hands curled aimlessly, being tied up by your wrist meant that you could not even find something to hold down on with the metal bar out of your grip. Your voice was hoarse, your throat tight from how long you had been whimpering and crying out.

Your lower stomach felt like it was about to combust at any point and you were far too numbed by your own burning sensitivity that you were not sure if it was the band in your stomach snapping or a sign that the flood gate in you was about to crack. 

There were empty plastic bottles scattered at the corner of the room and just counting the numbers was enough for you to feel the pain building up. The dildo attached to the handle of the machine sheathed in you with each extension, its rigid sides rubbing against your tight walls when it robotically retracted all the way back before repeating. It went at an agonisingly slow pace, not allowing you even the bit of comfort that would come with a quick release but built it up from the bottom each time you crashed down. 

“Issei- Issei, please...”

The man in question only cooed when he heard the broken whimpers of his name rolling off your quivering lips. Seeing you all defenseless and fucked out of your mind sent him on a power trip each time. Matsukawa sat with his back leaned against the chair, his legs spread in a languish pose that was a stark contrast to how tensed you were. He loved finding new ways to make you scream, feeling a rush of excitement when you kept saying again and again that it wasn’t possible for your body to get into all the embarrassingly pornographic positions he nonchalantly showed you but never once objected when he slowly manipulated your limbs into all sorts of poses or when he put the rim of yet another bottle of water against your plump lips, whispering praises in your ear as you poured all the liquid down your throat.

He had guessed that there was this side to you when you reported to work on your first day, your eyes darting around the room as you introduced yourself to the rest of the staff. Matsukawa thought you were the cutest thing when you thanked him again and again after he showed you around like you were so scared that you had caused him any trouble, or when he shielded you from the crowd of people that were filling up the escalator by pressed you against the wall and letting you hide against his chest. The way you failed to hide that you were flustered and did not know where to look drove him crazy and he knew that he just had to have you.

The loveliest little thing, Matsukawa hummed to himself as he fisted his cock in hand, licking his lips at the sight of how your legs were shaking as you cum once again around the ripping dildo. He licked his lips as the dildo pulled out of you, dripping with your juices that were no doubt soaking through the sheets you were on.

“Please- too much...”

He replied to your pleas with a chuckle, pulling his chair just a little closer to the edge of the bed as his large palms gripped your jaw and tilted your head towards him. He did not try to hold back the coo that slipped past his lips, rubbing his thumb mockingly gentle on your cheeks as he spread the bit of tear still staining your face. He did not like to hide your eyes, there was something about how blown up and doe like your eyes were when he had you at his mercy that sent sparks down his spine. You looked like a doll that did not have any other thought than him, staring at him through your lashes all glassy as the squelches from your sopping pussy and the buzzing of the machine blurred your senses. 

Your toes curled when a sharp pain stabbed through your core, the whimper that slipped past your lips earning you a condescending “awe” from your lover as he brushed his thumb across your bottom lips with a smile.

You were panting when he got up. The mattress dent under his weight when he climbed up with one knee, his broad frame shadowing over you when he leaned down. Your entire body shook when he placed a kiss on your lips, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth as he hushed your cries. 

“Aw,” the gravel in his voice hit you in full force when he tilted his head, his lips frowning down as he forged a pout, “does it hurt?"

He hummed like he was really giving a thought when you frantically nodded. Your breath hitched when he placed his palm flat on your neck, slowly trailing down your torso. The warmth emitting from his palm elicited goosebumps all over your skin from how deprived of touch you were. His hands were so big, like he could hold you in his hand and crushed you into pieces all at once. 

A high pitched sound ripped from the back of your throat when he stopped right on top of your bladder.

“Is it hurting here?” he asked, pretending to be oblivious. You were burning under his hand and even without applying any pressure, he could feel how tight you were under your skin. He felt the tingles ticking his scalp at the thought of how easy it would be to burst you apart when you were so fragile and exposed.

“Yes... yes- ah!”

You squeaked when he pressed down, sending jolts of electricity down from your stomach to the very tip of your limbs that were held up above your head. You whined when he let out a wolfish laugh, his grin spreading ear to ear at how helpless you looked. “Poor baby can’t even hold their own piss in,” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head slightly but the smirk was still tugging at his face. His hand was still pressed up firmly on your skin when you tried to squirm but to no avail, your hips wiggling under him but he held you in place with ease, “if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll let you...”

“Please- please I need to-”

You hissed when he pressed down harder. “Need to what?"

Your face burned in shame at how pitiful you must look right now. Your cunt fluttering around the dildo but still sucking it in and it wasn’t even something you could put your mind to comprehend with how desperate you needed to relieve yourself from the pulsing ache in your bladder with Matsukawa’s lips twitching in thrill while he watched you with intent.

“Hmph- need to piss...”

He smacked his lips in satisfaction at how embarrassed you were just from saying it. His hand that was on top of your lower stomach never once left its position, but you whined when you looked at him through the slight crack of your eyes to see him reached down. A sharp mewl leaked past your lips when he pulled the hood of your clit back with his thumb before grazing the engorged nub with the pad of his fingers.

Your arousal coated his fingers as he brushed past your fluttering folds before going back to your clit again, the silicon that was plunging deep inside of you in a steady tempo already dripping and warmed up from how many times you had cum from it. 

“Look at you,” he muttered and the sharp words made you clench, “you’re only good at getting your brains fucked out but you’re asking me to stop?”

He snickered at the moan that you made when he hand pulled away from your cunt, “or is it because your greedy cunt is not satisfied with anything that isn’t my cock?”

The sudden switch of the slow plunges to rapid drilling had you arching yourself off of the mattress, pulling your muscle taunt with your thighs flexing from the overdrive. Your brain was fogged over by the sudden increase in friction, your eyes rolling back all the way as you saw white in your vision. 

A choked shriek ripped from the back of your throat when he pressed down on your bladder with the heel of his palm. Every fiber in your being felt like they were being torn at different directions when the numbness of your skin seeped in like needles poking on you. A warm wave washed over you and your body shuddered as it was dropped down from the high of tension. You could not distinguish what the feeling was, whether it was from the clamping of your walls against the dildo or the spurts of liquid that excreted from your bladder.  You should have felt bashful that you were so hopelessly turned on by your boyfriend’s eyes being fixed on your cunt and the sight of you wetting yourself, but you could not even find the power to be ashamed when you were too drowned in the overwhelming wash of gooeyness in your guts at finally letting the weight fade. 

“Disgusting...” Matsukawa mumbled but his eyes were curled like the moon, his face twisting into a wide smirk as he raked his eyes all over your shaking frame. There was a large pattern that darkened the fabric you were laying on, beads of your piss trailing down from the root of your thighs before seeping into the sheets. 

You whimpered when he turned down the settings of the fuck machine that had been tormenting you before pulling it out of you, licking his tongue at the sight of your abused cunt clenching reflectively at the sudden emptiness. With the machine shoved to the side, he could now take a good look at your slit upfront. He groaned at the warmth that was left on the bed when he kneels right against you, not caring at all about getting your piss on him. 

“Tsk,” he sneered, his thumb parting your folds to take a good look at your muscles still spasming from the post orgasmic shock due to the stimulation he had put you through. Your hips were tainted with trails of sheen whether it be your gushing essence or piss. You wanted to moan but nothing came out when you felt his thick tip rubbing along the slit, his pelvis pressed up against your raised legs.

Even with your legs about to cramp up from the blood that could not reach your toes and your chest still heaving, you weakly lifted your hips upwards when his hands found their way to the back of your pushed up thighs. You mewled at the soreness that pulsed through you when he slid his tip in, the burn in your core apparent once again. 

Matsukawa’s groan masked over the silent whimper you let out when he sheathed in you with the help of the fluids that were over you, his tongue darting out as he eyed you from above. The way your legs were opened wide allowed him the front view of your fluttering cunt taking in his thick cock inch by inch, the drops of clear liquid from your legs getting on his pubic hair as he bottomed out inside of you.

Your voice came out as nothing but breathy pants when he thrust up without warning, the stretch from his cock and the heat that was spreading over you like wildfire from where your bodies connect a much different feeling to the lifeless machine.

“Such a good little slut,” he purred, enjoying the way your body jolted forward every time he rolled his hips, “you like getting fucked in your own piss, baby?”

You could not answer in anything but babbling “yes” again and again in slurred strings of incoherent sounds. The grumble he let out was dripping with mockery and it turned into a laugh when he picked up the pace of his hips.

“You don’t mind how and where, you’re in bliss as long as you get my cock jabbing in your filthy fuck hole,” his filthy words had you clamping down on him and earning an approving pat of his hand on your thigh, "All because you’re trained to be nothing but my cock whore...”

You threw your head back, your legs shaking against the bar as he used you to his pleasure. Each surge of his hips had your toes curling, his length pivoting against the spot right below your cervix that was just short of painful with the sparks it sent jolting down your spine with each plow.

“That’s it- that’s it, clamp down harder- fuck!”

He came with a grunt through his teeth, shooting ropes and ropes of white cum into your spasming walls. A moan rolled off of your trembling lips at yet another wave of warmth that washed over you, sighing in content at the feeling of being filled up.

Matsukawa let out a light chuckle when he pulled out, his finger pushing the leaking substance back into your pussy and earning him a soft whimper in protest. You were a complete mess, your eyes barely able to flutter open as he leaned down and gave you an approving kiss on the lips while his hand hold onto the spreader bar.

“You feeling alright?” he asked, his voice now a genuine kind of soothing as he undid the straps that held your limbs up.

“Tired,” you said in a mutter, the smallest smile dancing on your features when he let your hands down after placing a peck at the mark around your wrist.

“Yeah?” he whispered, brushing your hair out of your face, “want to get some rest before I clean you up?”

He hummed at the slight nod of your head, lifting you up gently with his hand on your back and laying you against his broad chest. You exhaled as you leaned back, feeling your breaths calming down to the steady beating underneath.

“If I tell you I love you now, would that be too cliche?”

“They say don’t trust what people say in bed...” you murmured, the smile on your face growing when you felt the vibrations from his chest tickling your face at his laugh.

“Ouch.”

You shook your head, leaning into his touch when you felt the warmth of his palm at your back.

Fine, he could be trustworthy, you supposed.

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

author-chan!! can i have angst of annie leonhardt' s/o leaving her after she confesses that she's the female titan:(((

also i wish you luck with your blog ٩( ᐛ )و

tHIS HURT ME TO WRITE, ANNIE DESERVES HAPPINESS!

On another note though, thank you! I’m having fun so far ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Oh, and to preface, this turned out a lot more angsty and violent than I had sort of planned in my head, so if you want something changed, I can easily go back and edit it.

Monster

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Slight violence, season 3 spoilers

Category: Angst

Summary: After finding out she is the Female Titan, Annie’s s/o leaves her, leaving her heartbroken and angry.

Words: 2.0K

The most recent scouting expedition was an absolute disaster.

You thought things were going well. One of your first scouting missions, and you had made it far into titan territory without much trouble.

But then, she appeared.

An abnormal for sure. Shown to be fast and agile, plus very intelligent, the Scouts stood no chance. She mindlessly ripped through your comrades in search of Eren, pushing all the way up to the forest, and wiping out almost all of the Levi squad.

Luckily, you were able to make it out of the mission relatively unscathed, physically anyway. Mentally, you were a mess. The experience messed you up for sure, you had never been more terrified of a titan before then. The fear of death that she instilled in you had shaken you to your core, and as soon as you were allowed to leave, you ran to the interior to find solace in your girlfriend, Annie.

Sneaking into the military police dormitories, as you had done many times before, you quietly pushed to the door open, poking your head in in search of the blonde.

You found her alone in bed, staring at the ceiling wordlessly. Her roommate, Hitch, was strangely absent. You wondered if she was getting ready for bed. It was a bit early, as the sun had just began to set, but you figured she may have just been tired.

She didn’t seem to notice you at first, which was unnatural of the usually extremely observant soldier. Still you paid no mind to it, calling out her name.

“Annie?”

She turned to face you, and a small smile graced her lips. But something was very off about it. The smile looked so... pained. Not fake, but pained. Like it hurt her just to smile.

“Can I come in?” You asked, just out of courtesy, since she looked like she had something on her mind.

She nodded, sitting up in her bed and patting the space next to her.

You climbed onto her bed, and the two of your shared a chaste kiss before you hugged her, burying your head in her shoulder. You inhaled slowly, taking in her calming, slightly sweet scent.

“I missed you...” You muttered.

She chuckled just a little, before wrapping her arms around you and falling backwards, pulling you with her so you were tucked into her side. “I missed you too...”

You snuggled closer into her chest, taking deep, relaxed breaths for the first time in days.

You laid in comfortable silence for a few minutes, before you finally started to talk about what had really been bugging you.

“The scouting mission was a disaster.” You said, slightly muffled into her chest. You could’ve swore you felt her breathing hitch and her muscles tense up at the mention of it.

You pulled your head out of her chest, not even waiting for her to beckon you to continue, deciding to keep talking anyway.

“There was this huge abnormal, and she was faster and smarter than any one I’ve ever seen before!” You cried out, not even bothering you control your voice. You needed this experience off of your chest as soon as possible. “She killed so many Scouts! I saw it all with my own two eyes, I thought for sure I was gonna die!” Tears formed in your eyes as you recounted the experience, images flashing through your head and screams ringing in your ears.

Your hands covered your eyes, eyes squeezing shut so tightly that bright colors seemed to flash over your vision as your eyebrows furrowed. Quiet sobs and sniffles escaped your lips.

After a moment, you realized Annie still hadn’t moved an inch. The Annie you know would’ve been shushing your cries and petting your hair, as she’s done so many times before, but right now, she didn’t move a muscle.

Your eyes fluttered wide open, and you bit your bottom lip to suppress your sobs. You shakily moved your head up to look at her. She was completely frozen, even her breathing had stopped momentarily, as she stared at the wall with wide, unmoving eyes. Her expression looked so mortified.

You gasped out loud as it finally clicked, your hands moving from your ears to cover your mouth, and your pure shock immediately stopped the flowing tears. All the pieces fell into place in your mind at once.

The expression on her face was recognizable anywhere. God, how did you not notice it before?!

Guilt.

Confused and panicked, you sat up and scampered to the opposite side of the bed, still in disbelief.

“A... Annie?” Your whisper was barely audible, but compared to the tense stillness of the room, she heard you perfectly. “Tell me it isn’t true...”

You had ignored it. You didn’t want to think about any of it. You didn’t want to think about how similar the female titan looked to her, or how the female titan had the same martial arts technique as her, or how strange she had been acting lately, especially now after the attack. You still clung to hope that, maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

She finally sucked in a breath harshly through her clenched teeth, lowering her head in shame and hiding her eyes from yours.

“I...” She whispered. The tone in her voice almost made you pity her. She sounded so sad, like a kicked puppy. The furrow in your brow softened, but you remained on guard until she finished her sentence.

“I’m so sorry... Y/n...”

At that moment, you felt a switch flip in your mind. This was no longer the Annie you knew. She wasn’t the Annie that would lean on you silently during mealtimes, or the Annie that would kiss you on the forehead when you woke up together, or the Annie that smiled lovingly whenever you told her that you loved her.

No, not anymore. This was a monster. She was a monster.

Burning rage and heartbreak coursed through your veins, taking over your body as you lost any control you may have had. She didn’t need to try to apologize. She didn’t deserve forgiveness.

You grabbed her by the shoulders, and before she even had the chance to react, you tackled her off of the bed and onto the creaky wooden floors of the dorm, landing on top of her with a loud thud.

She shut her eyes and winced in pain for a moment, but she opened them to look at you. As soon as her eyes met yours, you saw them widen with fear. Not fear for her safety, she could easily beat you in a fight if she wanted to. No, this fear was different, it was something she had feared since she first started to fall for you. And right now, it seems that fear was becoming reality.

“WHY?!” You screamed, still hovering over her. Despite your anger, your face appeared distraught, tears falling from your eyes and onto her cheeks. The tears she usually wiped away endearingly were now flowing from your eyes, and it was all because of her.

“This whole time, you pretended to love me, while you were really just our enemy? Do you have any idea how many died because of you?! What are you doing this for?! WHY, ANNIE, WHY?!”

Tears fell from Annie’s eyes as she struggled to form a coherent sentence.

You remained on top of her, waiting impatiently for an answer. “Well?!”

“I... Y/N please... I’m sorr-” Her sentence was cut off as you raised your fist and struck her in the nose with all your might. Her head flung to the side, blood already spurting from her face.

“Don’t give me that sorry bullshit! You aren’t sorry at all! You just want to save your hide!”

You sat up from your previous position, but your knees stayed grounded on the floor to either side of her. You stared at her, your expression broken and unremorseful.

“You’re a traitor...” Your voice dropped to a solemnly low pitch, and a pained, almost hysterical laugh ripped through your throat. You calmed down within moments, however, and stared into her eyes. If looks could kill right now, she would be dead on the floor in an instant.

“You stood there with us and swore to fight against the titans... and then you went on to kill your own comrades... do you feel no remorse?” You shook your head, looking away as if she didn’t even deserve your acknowledgement. “You never deserved to wear the uniform. You should never have joined the ranks.”

You stood up, heading for the door. You turned to look at her once again, only to see that she hadn’t moved an inch, her head still facing to the side, looking away from you.

“Tch.” You turned around, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open slowly.

“I can’t believe I thought I loved you,” You took a step out of the door. “You monster.”

---

Annie panted in front of the mirror, gripping the sides of the porcelain for support. The blood still leaked from her nose, the metallic taste making its way into her mouth and coating her tongue.

She looked at the mirror, and a stranger stared back. A stranger whose faced was still stained with tears. A stranger who was afraid. A stranger who, deep down, ached for her lover to return.

She should’ve known. Hell, Reiner warned her several times.

“I know you care about her, Annie, but you can’t get attached to, let alone involved with Y/N. It sacrifices the integrity of our mission as warriors.”

She winced at the memory, closing her eyes and trying to block it out. Still, his words wrapped itself around her brain.

“Besides, you know it well. We’re sinners, Annie. Monsters. We have a duty to serve, but that’s it. People will hate us simply for being born into this program, for inheriting our titans. Y/N is no different.”

She stared back into the mirror. The stranger who looked back had really believed that she could do it. That Y/N wouldn’t hate her when she inevitably found out her secret. How foolish, believing that she could be forgiven.

A sudden rush of anger and frustration washed over her, and her hand left the sink and struck the mirror in front of her. The reflection shattered, and the glass fell to the ground.

She didn’t bother to wash the blood off of her hand, or even pick the tiny shards of glass out of her hand before she punched the empty wall where the mirror used to be.

*POW*

She knew it, she always knew it, years before even being given her orders.

*POW*

Of course she knew it, how could she not?

*POW*

But she didn’t want to be reminded of it.

*POW*

She didn’t even want to think about it.

*POW*

She didn’t want it to be told to her face like that.

*POW*

And especially not by her.

*POW*

No matter how she faced it, she was just...

...

A monster.

---

She huffed in the midnight air as she ran, holding her limp right hand. It wouldn’t take a genius to look at it and tell immediately that she had shattered many of the bones in her fingers, but that didn’t matter right now. You knew her secret, and it wouldn’t be much time before you told the others.

She ran as fast as she could, skidding to a halt in front of the cabin that she unfortunately knew all too well.

---

Reiner awoke with a start, a painful sensation covering his chest. As he opened his eyes slowly, the blurry silhouette in front of him delivered another swift kick to his ribs. He groaned painfully as the silhouette began to clear.

“Annie?” Confusion and fatigue laced his speech heavily. Across the room, Bertholdt began to stir awake.

“Reiner,” She spoke. His eyes widened as he gazed into her eyes. The icy blue orbs appeared as though no one was behind them. She looked broken, as if a painful realization had shattered her entire world. “Get up. Now.”

“Huh?” He sat up, noticing her battered and bruised hand, only heightening his confusion.

“We’re going to go get Eren.” She spoke, an eerie monotony to her voice.

“Whether you like it or not,” She continued. “This mission ends today.”

SAAHFKSJHLDFSKHACKJH I NEVER WANT TO WRITE ANNIE IN PAIN AGAIN I FEEL SO BAD AAAAAAAAAAA

also, i put so much effort into this, but it feels really bad for some reason :|

Also I couldn’t write Annie punching the wall without comparing her to a Kyle™ lol.

Well, still, I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if I should change anything.

[justimajin]

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.4

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

↳ (4.1k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, graphic descriptions of violence and blood, major character death

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, January 12 

You and Namjoon return back without much of a word exchanged. 

The stifling silence lingers longer than its welcome, and there’s occasional swaying of your eyes, hastily scanning over Namjoon’s features. Moments like this make you wish you could figure out what was churning inside his head, the knowledge of his thoughts easing your work by tenfold. 

But alas, Namjoon is the heir to the Kim Empire. Although you have a carefully constructed image of him in mind, he has only been kind and considerate to you, and volatile when the situation calls upon him for action. Something that makes you truly wonder if you’ve been able to assess his character properly at all to this point. 

Entering the house, you plan on heading back to your bedroom and reporting back the information you’ve obtained ‒ until a hand covers yours against the doorknob. 

You swivel, brows knitting together. Your breath immediately hitches, noticing how Namjoon is just inches away from you.

He simply stares at you for a moment, like he was deciphering a puzzle. Lips moving, out escapes a question that you weren’t expecting. 

“Why are you trying to be a part of this?” 

Your eyes enlarge and you rattle through your brain for the clearest of answers. 

“This is your work...I just wanted to know more…” As if on instinct, you attach your role to it. “A-As your wife.” 

Namjoon’s lips draw into a line, and there’s a heavy crease forming in between his brows. A soft ‘tick’ leaves him as he spins around, planting a hand on his temples. 

For a second, you’re not sure what to make out from the gesture. In fact, you can’t recall if you’ve seen Namjoon like this before, especially towards you. 

Hesitating for a moment, your hand begins to slowly advance, moving towards his shoulder. 

He whirls around and you retract it in an instant. 

The breath is knocked out of your lungs when Namjoon clasps onto your hands, desperation reigning heavy in his eyes and rendering you immobile. 

“Please, don’t.” His voice cracks and your gaze instantly latches onto his, “I‒.…I don’t want you succumbing to it too.” 

Confusion swirls in your eyes and Namjoon exhales, fluttering his own shut. “The work I do‒the work I continue on from, it’s not the most pleasant...” 

“And…it’s something that’s completely broken my family.” 

Your pupils flare and Namjoon opens his eyes, tenderly gazing at you. 

“They act as if they don’t care much about the business or about controlling it, when in reality it’s all they ever concern themselves about.” Namjoon explains, “When we got married and you had dinner with them….I saw the family I knew before I became the heir, the ones that hadn’t let this business take precedence over everything else…” 

He continues, anguish leaking into his words, “I….I don’t want things to be the same way with you.” 

Your eyes don’t leave him and the pulse of your heart rate steadily increases, almost doubling when Namjoon squeezes your hands. 

“Get involved in something else, please.” He pleads, “It can be anything, just‒…” 

There’s a moment of hesitation, before he decides to be completely truthful. “Just know that my hands are the ones that have been tainted enough.” 

You harshly suck in a breath, warmth rapidly radiating over your skin. Namjoon expectantly stares at you, waiting for an answer that you can barely conceive. 

Swallowing hard, you nod in response. His shoulders deflate with relief and a genuine smile spreads across his features, but all it serves to do is make the sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach worse. 

I’m sorry, Namjoon. 

You weren’t sent here to not get involved, you weren’t trained and tasked with the mission of relaying information back, seeking an infiltration rather than a relationship from your marriage. 

Picking up the familiar box and hearing the static that reigns out, you patiently wait for the signal to correspond. The thought of Namjoon holding your hands and begging for you to delve deeper elsewhere because of the impact on his family, pangs through your mind more than you would like. 

The signal is sent through and you prepare yourself, placing your hands on the box. 

But for the first time since you’ve been married, you hesitate. 

“W-What?” 

You wonder if your ears heard right, but the remorseful look on your parents suggests otherwise. 

“We’re sorry, Y/N....” Your father states, turning his back without a second look in your direction. Your mother follows suit, not foregoing a glance either. 

You stand frozen, pupils latched onto their disappearing backs. Water begins to surface within your eyes and the door begins to slowly close behind them, all traces of light cutting off. 

┈

“Again!” 

The voice roars in your face, a wince running through your shoulders immediately. 

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking a-about…” 

His hand immediately grabs onto your chin, pushing you forward. Your breathing is uneven, eyes wide with fear. “This is the face of a liar? Say it firmly!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You swallow hard and the daunting man in front of you seems satisfied for once, stepping back to look through the thin glass on the other side of the room. You don’t dare look, accepting that you were merely a puppet whose strings had to be pulled the right way. 

At the sound of approval from the glass, there’s a smile that curls on his lips as he turns to face you again. 

┈

“I-I can’t…” 

A hand slams against the metal table you’re sitting at and you jolt, “A woman tells you she has information regarding the Kim’s and you need to get it out of her.” He nearly snarls in your face, “What. do. you. do?” 

You almost feel like you’re being suffocated, but the answer slips through your lips after being drilled in there for a thousand times. 

“E-Exploit her weaknesses.” You squeeze your eyes shut, “Guilt her into thinking she can trust me…” 

He steps back, staring down at you with cold eyes. His gaze would make you waver, gawk at something else until it was over, but you raise your eyes, staring back at him without hesitation. 

A smile curls on his lips when he notices you’re beginning to hold the same coldness in your eyes that he has. 

┈

“AH!” 

You clasp your hand around your shoulder, the throbbing radiating all the way through your back. A punch is thrown your way and the grimace you hold vanishes in an instant. 

He scowls, “Keep your eyes on your opponent, Y/N!”

“S-Sorry…” 

A hard kick lands on your leg and you immediately collapse, a pang of pain shooting down where your hands grasp on. 

“What did I say about apologizing?!” 

Your mouth remains sealed shut and you attempt to get up, ignore the wobbling urge your knees have. Another punch is thrown in your direction and although clumsily, you manage to defect it in time. 

A wide grin spreads over his features. 

┈

“I-I can’t do this...I-I can’t…” 

His voice is far from gentle, “Y/N.” 

“I was never meant to be a spy.” You plead, “I-I can’t do any of this…” 

“Y/N.” 

Your voice cracks, “I-I just want to go home…” 

Your fingers are forcibly pride open, the cold metal jamming into your skin. Despite your protests, your arm is lined up in front of you, the man on the chair cowering away with wide eyes. 

“This is your job, Y/N.” He states coldly, “If circumstance calls for it, you will have to do this.” 

There’s a group of individuals behind him, all carefully observing you like some sort of lab rat. Your hands tremble uncontrollably and there’s a sick feeling in your stomach, but despite all that, you know there’s no way out. 

You’ve pleaded with him. You’ve pleaded with your parents - who aside from concern-filled faces, turn away with a blindeye. 

There’s no use. This is who you are now. 

“Y/N.” Your instructor scowls, “Shoot.” 

Hot water rolls down your cheeks, the weapon threatening to slip away from your hands. 

“Y/N.” His voice grows louder, commandful in nature. He doesn’t tell you what to do anymore, instead he glares, the silence in the room being daunting enough. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try not to think about how terrified the man in front of you looks. 

Your body propels backwards, and you’re sent flying until your back smacks against the wall. The metal slips from your fingers and you can’t bear to open your eyes, the scent of blood already alerting you of your lethal actions. 

The sound of footsteps coming closer greet you, and you don’t even need to look at him to see the smile that curls on his lips. 

His words are laced with satisfaction and pride, but they only serve to increase the emptiness inside you. 

"You're a tool now, Y/N. From on, you must follow our every instruction and order."

Like a robot, you solemnly nod. The mayhem of your doing is dragged away from the room, leaving behind a steak of crimson against the ground. 

From there on forth, the nightmare begins. 

Your eyes shoot open, a harsh gasp leaving your lips. Glancing rapidly around, you notice the wide two doors in your direct view and the luxurious bed that sits in the corner of the room. 

Your heavy breathing begins to still, shoulders slowly sinking down. There’s a silky texture against your skin that shifts, the length of the maroon gown pooling onto the ground. 

You sit up straighter, mind still dazed. 

Namjoon walks in, adjusting the cuffs to his suit with a deep frown. His eyes flicker up on you at once, a smile of relief tugging on the corner of his lips. 

“You’re awake?” 

It takes you a second to register his words, but after a moment you nod. “I hope you’re not feeling too tired to come with me.”

Shaking your head, Namjoon grins and you rise from your seat. He lets you loop your hand around his outstretched arm and you attempt to void your mind, aware that you’ll be spending the rest of the evening underneath a scrutinizing spotlight. 

***

The night swiftly passes by, individual's intermingling and conversing amongst themselves. You remain latched onto Namjoon’s arm, following him around as he greets members and thanks them for coming. Save for the chance encounter you have with his parents and a brief run-in with one of the company managers, your eyes continue to stay glazed over. 

Namjoon seems to notice right away and for once, you don’t question the motive behind his intention. 

“I’m fine.” You ease when he piques if you’re fatigued from the gathering. A waiter passes by you and you instantly reach out, reluctantly grabbing onto a glass of wine.  

Namjoon doesn’t question you again, but when he rounds the corner and heads towards a group of four familiar individuals, you’re grateful for picking up the beverage. 

Contrary to previous encounters, the shareholders don’t appear utterly offended nor hostile by your appearance. You presume that to be a good sign. 

“It’s about time you showed up.” Yoongi quips. Namjoon sheepishly smiles, and Hoseok chimes in. 

“Have you heard anything about the recent deal?” He quirks up a keen eyebrow and Namjoon advances forward, beginning to explain into detail. Although intrigued, you take occasional quiet sips from your drink, making no move to intervene. 

“How have you been this evening?” You blink for a moment, before turning in astonishment towards the source of the voice. 

Taehyung takes a sip out of his own drink, eyeing you for an answer. “I’ve been alright.” 

“You seem tired.” Brows furrowing, you glance at him peculiarly, wondering if it was truly obvious.

“I’m just a little under the weather.” 

He hums, continuing to drink from his glass and standing near you during Namjoon’s explanation. It draws curiosity out from you, but there’s a bitter taste lingering on your lips. 

You draw your upper and bottom lip together, smacking them together with puzzlement. Your stomach churns, the acidity in your throat abruptly spiking up and overwhelming your senses. A sudden wave of vertigo hits you out of nowhere, nearly causing you to trip. 

Two hands shoot out to steady you immediately.

“Y/N?” 

Although you recognize Namjoon’s voice, your response is cut off the moment your hand reaches up to cover your mouth. His grasp on you tightens, and before you know it, you’re being led out of the room immediately. 

You can’t recall where Namjoon brings you, but you can feel the cool texture of a wall against your hands as you attempt to steady yourself. There’s still a hand covering your mouth and Namjoon leans in closer, whispering underneath his breath. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Oddly enough, his calming voice is a lot more soothing to listen to compared to the bustling mixture of sounds coming from the gathering. 

You nod, shakingly letting out a breath. “I-I almost felt like I was going to throw up.” 

Namjoon sharply gazes at you with alarm and although you seem to be doing better, his grasp never leaves you. 

“Do you want to go home?” 

Your involuntary assumption is to first contemplate. Contemplate on whether or not it would be a smart move on your part to not be here by his side when he’s clearly interacting with important individuals. But unfortunately, the acidity tickling your throat seems to have an agenda of its own. 

Letting out a sharp cough, you nod and Namjoon instantly looks around for an exit. 

“Namjoon!” A man stands at the end of the hallway, tilting his head in confusion, “What are you doing out here?” 

You recognize him as Kim Yooseon, one of the company’s deal makers. You hear a sound of dismay leave Namjoon and with a heavy sigh, you tug on his suit’s jacket. 

“Just drop me by the entrance.” 

Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to protest, “But Y/N‒”

“It’s okay.” You reassure, “It’s more important for you to be in there compared to me. I’ll manage.” 

Namjoon appears to be caught in between agreeing with you and on the verge of letting out a string of protests. However, when you pleadingly glance at him, he can’t seem to say no. 

He ends up dropping you off with his driver just like you had requested and with a persistent gaze, leaves without another word. The moment he vanishes, you let out an audible breath, the proximity he was holding you on top of your nausea becoming more overwhelming then the urge to let your insides all out. 

You’re luckily dropped off back at the house in silence, only seeking out assistance from the driver for a bag in case the urge abruptly hits you in the midst of the ride. He questions if you’re alright and you quickly reassure him just like you had done with Namjoon, before hiking back to the house with swaying feet. 

Alarmingly, another wave of vertigo washes over you, this time with an aftermath of a throbbing sensation cascading through your head. Your stomach swirls at the same time, the hurling urge returning at full force. 

It’s only when you cradle your stomach with your hand and rest against a wall that your vision begins to blur, eliciting a sudden rush of panic that you’re ultimately faulty at coping with. Your feet mismatch and you collapse onto the ground, right in front of the house you needed to be in. 

As your eyes begin to droop and lull back, the sound of heavy footsteps greet your ears. 

***

Your eyelids slowly flutter open, the sight of crystals hanging from the ceiling greeting you. The familiarity strikes you at once, and you instantly scramble up onto your hands. 

You’re sprawled out on the ground, still wearing the maroon gown from the evening. 

“I never knew the L/N’s tried to create their own spies.” The deep voice halts your movement, a trail of goosebumps spreading over your skin, “Not a bad move, if I do say.” 

You don’t spin around right away. Instead, you slowly turn your head to the side, the sight before you distorting your breathing pattern. 

Your body violently trembles and the delicate maroon material you adorn is fisted within your hands. 

He stands against the wall, a familiar box in his hands and the door to the bedroom sealed beside him. Cocking his head to the side, he sends a smirk in your direction. 

“How stupid did you think the Kim family is?” A playful look dances in his eyes, “Are we that easily fooled?” 

At your quivering silence, Taehyung grows dismayed. “According to you, I guess we are.” The sound of metal alerts your ears right away and your eyes grow wide, fixating on the sharp object in his hands. “But don’t worry, you won’t be able to trick anyone after this.” 

You roll over in a flash, instincts thankfully taking over for a split second. Taehyung sighs, yanking out the curved knife from the ground before whirling around and lunging for you again. You’re able to evade him again, rising up onto your feet. 

Your heartbeat petrifying thuds against your chest as you glance around, mind becoming erratic. 

Taehyung sighs again, unclasping the knife in his hands and placing it back into his pocket. For a moment relief fills you, but it’s short lived when a revolver emerges out instead. 

He points it towards you, holding onto the same expression as the first time he aimed a gun in your direction.  

You attempt to swiftly move out of the way, but you’re not as lucky this time around. 

A loud cry escapes your lips and you collapse onto the ground, a pulsing sensation radiating from your left leg. Tears begin to emerge in your eyes and Taehyung appears relieved for once, satisfied he won’t have to chase or hunt you down for this to end. 

He aims the gun down at you. “Goodbye, Y/N.” 

The sound of firing echoes through the walls, and the remainder of the bullet clanks onto the ground. 

Nearly having scratched the surface of the polished floor. 

Taehyung’s eyes are wide and your hand tightens on the metal, having successfully knocked him down with your body weight. His irises darken considerably and a small grin tugs on his lips. 

“What are you waiting for? Shoot.” He chuckles boisterously, like he’s isn’t the one currently on the ground and being confronted with a gun. 

Your mouth twitches, the hot excruciating throbbing in your damp limping leg tingling through your skin. The ends of your fingers tremble the slightest, and it’s something Taehyung doesn’t ponder to take notice of. 

“I knew Namjoon shouldn’t have married a L/N...all of you are always the same....” A devil-like smirk crosses him, voice dropping into a low whisper, “Weak.” 

Abruptly, he’s off the ground, smacking the back of your elbow to loosen your grip. Thankfully, you latch onto the weapon tight enough, gripping it away from his preying hands. 

An echo murmurs through your head. 

“….if you ever are found out, Y/N….. 

....at the split second in discovering your true nature….

He successfully snatches the gun, propelling the hammer back in a hurry. 

….you cannot choose hesitation….

...and the evidence must be destroyed….” 

Once the gun is pointed right against your temples, you hope that Taehyung has prepared himself for a rude awakening.  

A hard punch lands straight on his nose and you grasp onto the gun, aiming it straight for him. 

Taehyung’s eyes are wide, and for the first time you can see fear in them. 

Fear of the emerging coldness that resides in your own. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you fire. 

The sound of a thud greets your ears, and the reeking stench of freshly spilled blood is enough of an answer for your actions. 

***

Small huffs leave your lips, body limping as you walk out of your bedroom. Red residue coats your hands, dripping down your leg as you apply pressure to the metal embedded into your skin. Your other hand still tightly grasps Taehyung’s gun, keeping it securely by your side. 

Slowing turning around, you glance over your shoulder at the corpse on the ground. A grimace runs through your features, but it’s accompanied by a hiss as blood continues to trickle out of your wound.  

You begin to limp ahead, continuing to move forward. 

A tray clatters against the ground. 

You flinch, dilated pupils glancing up and preparing for defense. However, your breath hitches in an instant, terror pooling into them instead. 

Eunjoo stands before you, her shaky hands reaching out to cover her mouth. 

“M-Miss Y-Y/N…?” Her eyes have grown in size and your breathing becomes erratic as they continue to soak in the red staining your gown along with the gun in your hand. That’s when her trail of sight freezes, latching on the body behind you that you have yet to dispose of. 

In that split second, the fear in her eyes morphs into utter rage. 

“Y-You…” Her chest heaves, face flushing red, “Y-You’re a spy.” 

A pang of pain throbs through your heart, “Y-You’ve been a spy this entire time!” Disbelief strikes her, the dots beginning to loosely connect, “Betraying the trust of M-Master Kim...”

Eunjoo’s voice cracks and your eyes screw shut at the sound. 

“A-And me…” There are a thousand regrets laced in her bitter words. Tears begin to form in your eyes, but you fight back the urge to let them drip down your cheeks. 

The sharp sound of silver suddenly greets your ears. You jerk your head up, ignoring the way your vision has started to blur. 

Eunjoo stands in front of you, a butter knife in hand. You’re not given a chance to react one bit when she charges right at you with a cry. 

She’s unarmed and pinned to the ground in an instant. 

You aim your gun straight at her. 

Struggling for a moment, you notice the tears running down her cheeks and the soft sobs escaping her lips. 

“W-Why, Miss Y-Y/N? Why?” 

As she pleads, her frantic state mimics your own. You can’t hold the tears at bay anymore, your bottom lip quivering as they uncontrollably stream down your flushed skin. 

After a pregnant silence, you choke out the words, “B-Because there’s no other way…...” 

Your vision has blurred over entirely, “I’m sorry, E-Eunjoo…..but you’ve seen too much….”

Unlike Taehyung’s eyes, Eunjoo’s aren’t filled with either fear or horror. Instead, there’s just lingering disappointment, and for some reason that makes your heart tighten even more. 

Your hand trembles as you place your finger on the trigger and for once, you keep your eyes wide open when it’s pulled. 

***

The floors are shimmering, a near pearl hue twinkling from their surface. 

There are void from any pieces of glass, the silverware properly tucked away. No scratches litter the outside of your bedroom door, and there are no remains of a static box leftover. 

You steady yourself against the bathroom wall, sliding down until you’re fully seated on the ground. Disinfectant in hand, your leg is raised, now angrily blotched with murky dark red cracking around the small metal pocket. 

Once the area stops stinging and is finally clean, you shakingly inhale, before digging your fingers into the hole. You harshly bite down onto your teeth, a silent scream ready to erupt from the bottom of your throat. 

Metal clinks onto the ground and your shoulders visible relax for a moment, before you take out the disinfectant again. This time around, a sharp needle is plucked in between your fingers. 

The echo of footsteps entering the front door halts your actions, freezing you in place. 

Abandoning the needle, you quickly peer around, confirming that the door was locked. The footsteps continue to grow in sound, and with a haste opportunity, your vision fixates onto the shower tap. 

It’s not long before a knock resonates against the door, “Y/N? Y/N, are you feeling better?” 

Namjoon places his ear against the door, the sound of water sprinkling drawing a frown on his lips. 

“Y-Yeah...I’m feeling much better, Namjoon.” 

He hums, wondering if the water hitting the ground was the reason why your voice sounded deeper and thicker than usual. “Alright….I’ll just be here, if you need anything.” 

You make a sound in approval and he softly smiles, ultimately deciding to head back to bed after a long night. 

Water continues to splash against the surface of the ground as a fine needle quickly moves against your skin. In the midst of this, your hand ceases to tremble and a whimper escapes your quivering lips, right before you erupt into sobs. 

[candychronicles]

quarantine // k. bakugou

A/N: this is my take on the kink experimentation bnharem server collab! hope you enjoy!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,534

WARNINGS: face-fucking, pegging, smacking, dom reader, implied knife play

SYNOPSIS: being stuck in quarantine is not easy, especially for heros who are so used to being active. in order to help your anxious boyfriend, you hatch a plan, one that will allow him to be relaxed while delving into your desires.

Want to enjoy more kinks? Head on over the the masterlist! 

things had taken a turn for the worse: people were getting sick, people were dying, over a novel virus. panic had settled in thick as the world raced to gain control of the situation. many had begun to hoard things like toilet paper and hand sanitizer, while many simply ignored what was going on and continued to party the night away.

strict protocols were put in place to curb the spread of the virus like closures or revisions of rules over places like restaurants and bowling alleys, gatherings of 100, 50, then 10 or more were prohibited, guidelines and updates were constantly being blasted so people could stay aware of what was going on. eventually, it came to a point where stay in place orders were mandated and eventually enforced. nobody was allowed to go in and out, distribution of food and water were manned by national guards, and only the most essential of workers, like police and government employees were allowed out of the house. 

the only other exception to the rule were pro-heros, who were invited to news, police, fire stations to report the facts and quell anxiety about the virus. villains were still flooding the streets, even more so with quiet streets and empty buildings, and with police and national guards being split so thin to begin with to care for the citizens, pro-heros were forced to take in an extra workload.

however, things with the virus only continued to get worse, and as more and more villains congregated with their newfound freedom, many got sick and decided that their life wasn’t worth galavanting around. and so the time of needing an influx of pro-heros dwindled out and with that came shifts, just enough to keep the peace and help where it was needed without risking any spread. even though these men and women were heros, many were still susceptible to illness and it was important to take precautions as much as possible. 

this meant that Bakugou was stuck inside, subjected to the same punishments as anyone else who tried to leave the house without good reason. it would be another three weeks before it was his turn to work again and you could feel the frustration boiling under his skin. you had attempted to console him, to get him to relax, but his energy was too much and your words were fruitless.

your brain had worked tirelessly to attempt to figure out what you could do to help. he needed something different, something that would stimulate him enough to release his energy while also keeping within quarantine guidelines, something that would make him feel alive within these four walls. with those thoughts in mind, your body moved of its own accord, padding around your small house, attempting to find something that would help.

massage? no, he wouldn’t sit still long enough for that. working out? no, he does that every day. 

just as you were about to give up all hope, you stumbled upon your box of toys Bakugou had used the other night on you. all sorts of fun things were in there and each one got plenty of use. while he prided himself on being more than enough to satisfy you, he was more than happy to experiment and have fun.

hmm, experiment? 

that one thought sent you spiraling. you wouldn’t be able to get any new toys, and a new sex position was boring enough. a new kink needed to be experimented with. it was backbreaking work to get Bakugou to listen to you in the bedroom, but you knew with the right tools, combined with his frustration, it just might work. 

your plan was thankfully enacted only a few short hours later. Bakugou, finishing a shower, had exited the bedroom with nothing but a towel slung low over his hips, his happy trail curly and glistening from the water on his body. you had found your favorite orange lingerie, the color similar to his hero costume, lacy in all the right places and hugging your frame deliciously. 

“well, well, well, what do we have here?” you heard his husky voice approach you, tracing his finger appreciatively over the fabric.

“what we have here is a stress reliever. i know you’ve been anxious about being pent up in here. so have i, so i figured we might have a little bit of fun tonight, try something new.”

you stood up slowly, the fabric rustling as you reached up to cup his face in your hand, bringing your lips together in a soft kiss. you began backing him up to the bed until his knees hit the mattress and he sat down with a soft thud. you followed his body, pushing him back until he was flat on his back, crawling over him, feeling the hardness of his cock through the towel that was dangerously close to falling off.

you positioned yourself so you were level with his eyes, leaning down to ghost your lips over his ear, whispering, “do you remember our safe word?”

he nodded in response, too lost on the way you felt on top of him.

“good, because you’re going to need it.”

you got up without warning, reaching towards the bottom of the bed where you pulled out your toys, skimming your fingers over the various rubber and plastic figures, hand settling on a bottle of lube.

“what are you up to?” he asked, unusually meek sounding.

“do you trust me?”

“yes,” he responded instantly, breath hitched as he watched you continue to rummage around the box, pulling out both the blindfold and a long forgotten strap on, something that you had kept hidden for quite some time and never had the chance to use it. but tonight, tonight you would ravish your boyfriend.

you only nodded out in response as you brought the items over, dropping them on the bed unceremoniously. 

“sit up,” you commanded, crooking a finger towards Bakugou.

he obliged without question, though his face looked like he had a thousand he wanted to ask. you pulled the blindfold slowly over his eyes, running your fingers up through his hair as you straddled him, effectively removing the towel from his waist, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his neck, biting and sucking as you went along.

Bakugou was unusually quiet, only breathing heavily. you placed a hand over his heart and felt that it was racing.

“are you okay? do you want me to stop?”

“fuck no. i mean, yes, shit, i’m okay,” he answered.

you only hummed in response, continuing your worship of his body, feeling the way his pulse jumped as you bit down on a sensitive point on his neck. you pushed him back down again on the bed, this time adjusting him so his head was on a pillow and his body was fully laying down. when he was fully settled, you adjusted yourself so you were straddling his head, lingerie pulled to the side and cunt dripping in anticipation of what was about to go down.

“i need to hear you beg,” you stated simply, looking down to see his reaction.

“i think i should be telling you that,” he retorted with a cheeky grin.

“oh no sweetheart. i can take care of myself better than you, i think.”

with that statement in mind, one of your hands found its way to your cunt, experimentally flicking your aching bud, collecting the juices and going back in, harsher this time. your whines and the sloshing sounds of your pussy were all the indication Bakugou needed to know what you were doing. he brought one hand up to attempt to bring you down but you swatted it away, continuing to tease him as you teased yourself.

“no touching. not until i hear you beg.”

you whined at the feeling of your own fingers against your clit, rocking yourself to create more friction.

when Bakugou scoffed and tried again, you slapped his face, hard.

“i said beg.”

if you were able to see Bakugou’s eyes, you would’ve known that his pupils were blown wide with lust and desire. while he often wanted, no needed, to take control, this was nice, he had to admit.

“yes, mistress. please let me taste you, please,” you heard him, a whiney undertone to his sultry tone.

you immediately lowered yourself onto his face, murmuring how good of a boy he was as you felt his tongue lick up all your slick. his hands came experimentally up to your waist, wanting to see if you would swat him away, but when you only encouraged him, he gripped tighter, almost as if you were his anchor.

you continued to ride his face, praising him and yelping his name, getting lost in your own high. with one swift slap to your ass, he commanded you to cum and you did, leaking all over his face. he licked up every inch, hungry as a dog for your essence.

when you came down from your high, you tutted, upset at how he flipped the situation around so easily. you removed yourself from his face as he pulled off the blindfold, hair wild from you grabbing it.

“get on all fours,” you commanded, eyes blazing fiercely in the dim light from the bathroom that he forgot to turn off.

“what? why?”

“if you want to act like a dog, barking out commands, acting like you’re starving for my pussy, then you’ll get fucked like a dog. on all fours, now.”

when he didn’t comply immediately, you yanked his body to the edge of the bed, flipping his body over and sticking his ass in the air. Bakugou was too dumbfounded to realize what was going on, not even realizing that you had the strength to manhandle him, but before he could regain his composure, he felt something warm and sticky on his asshole.

you had warmed up the lube in your fingers around his ass, watching as the hole puckered around nothing. slowly, you inserted one finger, watching for signs of pain, but all you saw was a confused yet extremely pleased face. experimentally, you crooked the finger around, in and out, watching as Bakugou’s breath quickened and his hands fisted the sheets.

you pulled your finger out, smirking as he whined at the loss of your digit but quickly realized what was coming as you began inserting two fingers back into his fluttering hole. he gritted his teeth at the intrusive feeling but quickly relaxed as you continued to pump in and out of him, scissoring to loosen him up, applying more lube to keep things safe and pleasurable.

once you were satisfied with your work, you removed your fingers, wiping them haphazardly on the sheets, not caring. right now, you were too excited about what you were going to do to your boyfriend. he looked so innocent, eyes boring pleadingly into your own. you were so used to being dominated, tossed around like a ragdoll, and though you never really complained because Bakugou always took care of you, it was an exhilarating feeling to be in control of someone usually so stubborn and hard headed.  

you lubed up the strap on, warming it up in your hands. it felt awkward on your body, but you took a few experimental thrusts in the air and got the hang of it quite quickly. 

“hurry up already and fuck me,” Bakugou half pleaded half demanded.

without hesitation, you raised your palm and smacked his ass, hearing him hiss in both pain and pleasure.

“you’ll get fucked, don’t you worry.”

slowly, you lined the tip up to his ass, watching as he shook it in the air, clearly desperate for some sort of friction. you pushed the tip towards his waiting hole, feeling immediate resistance.

“relax baby. i’ll take care of you, i promise.”

you continued to push, making sure to take your time, until you felt the strap on bottom out, sinking into his gaping hole. amazement crossed your face as you watched the fake dick slide in and out of him, as you watched Bakugou clench up and then release all the tension in his body. soft whines and pants were heard from your boyfriend and you watched as he began thrusting himself back on your cock.

“i’ll go faster if i hear you beg,” you cooed, tracing your fingers down his back and over the curve of his ass, smacking it once more and then soothingly rubbing circles over the now red skin.

“fu-ugh, nnh please fuck me. please fuck me so hard (y/n), mistress, ma’am, fuck, i’ll call you whatever, just fuck me.”

you arched your brows in shock over hearing your boyfriend beg so freely, but who were you to deny a pretty man with a pretty ass? picking up your pace, you began slamming into Bakugou again, telling him how good he was doing, how pretty he was, how good he felt.

he seemed to appreciate the words, whining and stuttering through his emotions, too caught up in his own pleasure to be able to string coherent sentences together. you continued to thrust in and out, building up a sweat but enjoying the sounds and sights of your boyfriend being demolished to even really notice. you felt him tense up, his whines getting louder, and with a cry, he came, sticky ropes of cum shooting out onto the sheets. he collapsed on the bed not soon after, too spent to even care about laying in his own load.

you carefully pulled out, watching as his hole puckered and clenched around the sudden emptiness. you removed the strap on, throwing it on the floor and crawling onto your boyfriend, laying your slick body on his own.

“how was that?” you asked, hopeful yet concerned.

“s’fucking good,” he mumbled back, still reeling from what had just happened.

once he gained his breath back and his senses, you clambered off of him and plopped down, too tired to care. he got on all fours and slowly climbed over to you, pulling you into a searing kiss, murmuring his thanks against your lips.

when he pulled away, you saw the familiar twinkle in his eyes that meant he was up to no good. you gulped in anticipation, waiting with baited breath for what he was about to say.

“you know princess, you really surprised me tonight. hell, i even surprised myself. but tomorrow, tomorrow i will get back at you.” 

you looked up at him through hooded lids, lashes batting innocently as you pondered what he had in store.

“i know you’ve asked before if we could try some riskier kinks. i’ve been hesitant because i wasn’t sure you could handle it, but after tonight, i know better. you showed me tonight that i belonged to you,” he started, chuckling at the thought,” but tomorrow, i’ll carve my fucking name into your back, just so you’ll know that you really belong to me.”

your pussy clenched immediately at the thought, eyes open wide at his suggestion. sure, you had fantasized about, er, riskier kinks but never had you thought he would agree. maybe, you thought, maybe this quarantine won’t be such a bad thing.

TAGS: @redbeanteax​ @softforshigi​

Want to be a part of my taglist? Message me!

[lemontwst]

crossing the line. ❤️ ace x m!reader

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: in which ace runs his mouth and then gets his cheeks clapped by an mc with immense big dick energy.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: ace trappola x m!reader

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.2k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: non-con to dub-con, revenge/hate sex, mentions of voyeurism, public sex, enemies to lovers, mc has magical devices he definitely should not be having, grim is not present in this particular scene. 

“You don’t even know about the Great Seven?—”

His malicious voice bounces around your skull like thunder, drowning out the rest of the world like you've suddenly plunged into deep, cold water.

“Are you that ignorant?"

Tranquil rage licks at your insides, your stomach twists with nausea and your hands twitch with the impulse to wrap around his neck.

“Maybe you should go back to kindergarden before thinking of coming to this school.”

Don't punch him. You dig half-moons in your palms, inhaling a deep, shaky breath. Your muscles tighten from the strain of holding yourself back, from resisting the urge to punch this idiot's face in and drag him across the boulevard by the hair. Your heart thump thump thumps against your ribcage like it wants to jump out of you. Don't punch him.

"Aww I'm sorry, did I offend you?" The redhead's features morph into an expression of cheap remorse. His hands clutch his chest like he's so heartbroken, then the joke is over and that obnoxious smirk curves his lips once more, "—just kidding. Why don't you go cry about it to your mom? You won't last long in this place if you can’t stand up for yourself.”

Your reach into your pocket and your fingers brush against one of the slips of paper Crowley gave you before you parted. Paralyzers, he called them. They look pretty useless to you — just a bunch of small, fragile talismans cut from some yellowed paper, but according to Crowley, these things can subdue weaker magical beings for a limited amount of time. The headmaster gave them to you predicting that you would end up in less than savory situations, being the only ordinary human in a school full of wizards, shapeshifters and God knows what else.

“The immobilizing effect will last for about ten minutes,” Crowley had mused as he handed you the talismans, “Do try to escape the situation before the time runs out, would you? It would reflect poorly on our beloved school if one of our students were to die, after all.”

Escape. You snort, your eyes slowly appraising the other student who is still mouthing off. This place still doesn’t know you’re not one to go down without a fight. You’d much rather cling to the monster that’s tearing you apart, digging your teeth in its flesh even as you bleed out all over the pavement than turn tail and run. The carrion on your skin is a hard enough shield, the rot that stains your soul a powerful balm that turns the sting of your wounds into repugnant adrenaline.

"...Anyways, unlike you I actually have classes to attend to," The redhead throws you one last condescending smirk before turning around and giving you a half-assed wave, "Have fun cleaning the halls, janito—"

The words catch in his throat as you stick the Paralyzer to his vulnerable back, grabbing him by the hair and throwing him not so gently behind the obnoxiously large statues and out of the open street. 

The student rolls a few times across the grassy side of the road, almost crashing into the flowerbeds that fence the statues off, then he finally lands on his back, coughing and spluttering more from the shock of the sudden fall than actual pain.

He quickly tries to hoist himself up, but his arms and legs feel boneless and he falls back down, eyes wide and panicked as a jolt of electricity runs him from head to toe. He tries to get up again, but it seems like the more he struggles, the weaker he becomes. The talisman saps every ounce of his energy in a matter of seconds, leaving him unable to do anything more than lay there, eyes to the sky as he tries to catch his breath.

"What—the fuck—did you do?!" He snaps, his crimson eyes filling with hate when you slowly enter his field of vision, blocking out the sunlight and hovering over him with disinterest written all over your handsome face.

His temples throb with the strain of his thoughts traveling at supersonic speed, his head hurts like he just slammed it against a wall, and the cold look in your eyes makes his stomach twist into tight knots in what he stubbornly decides to be fear—even as his skin starts to heat up like he's been sunburnt the longer you look down at him.

"Oh, you know…" You casually put one foot on his stomach and lean in, ignoring the long, pained gasp that scratches his throat raw, "Just thought I'd teach a cockroach in my path a little lesson. I was thinking of letting you go quietly, but all your whining really got on my fucking nerves." You step off of him and he twitches and coughs, trying and failing to curl into himself for some sort of comfort.

"...Ha...so what, are you just gonna beat me up?" He says, smirking through the pain as if he's used to it. You don't doubt it—his mouth has probably gotten him in trouble plenty of times before—but simply hitting him would be so boring. You kneel between his legs, spreading them apart with ease and his smirk falls, "Hey—what are you doing, you idiot?! Get off me!" You ignore him as he tries to squirm out of your grasp.

"Since you act like a little bitch..." You take his shoes off without untying them and throw them somewhere behind you, then you unbuckle his pants and do the same thing, slightly annoyed with the way he whines and struggles—as if he has any chance of wrestling you off when his body is about as responsive as jello, "I'm going to fuck you like one."

The redhead's breath stutters and he stops moving, looking at you like you just escaped the nearest psych ward, but the sudden flash of crimson that lights up his face and the subtle way his eyes fall to your crotch before quickly focusing back on your face betray just a smudge of confused desire—he's probably seen something like this in porn and he’s relieving it in his mind.

"W-we're in public, you bastard! Are—are you insane?! Get away from—" His brain slams on the brakes and his head empties like it's hyperspace.

A shocked gasp leaves his lips when you bring your index finger to the front of his boxers, lazily drawing a circle over the growing hardness beneath. His stomach clenches, ripples of pleasure seemingly falling from where you're touching him to pool in his belly like molten lava.

His breathing picks up the pace, loud and humid in his ears as his eyes stay on your hand like you've hypnotized him, "...H-hey, s-stop that—this isn't fucking funny—"

"Says you." You hum, stopping your slow circling on his now visible erection to finger the elastic band of his boxers. The intimate touch makes his muscles clench and his head fils with air, "I find the way you're sprawled on the grass with no pants on absolutely hilarious." He makes a sound between a shriek and a gasp when your fingers grab his cock and pull it out of his underwear.

This isn't happening. He looks at his cock standing out in the open with a horrified look on his face.

It's not happening—it's a dream—the thought of other students walking the boulevard and seeing him there, behind the statue of the Queen of Hearts, his erection out and his body unable to move makes bile pool in his mouth—and his dick throb, but he doesn’t have time to consider his fucked up reaction because you suddenly blow on his glans and his entire body spasms, his head hits the grass and his eyes find the clear, blue sky once again. He briefly registers the feeling of his underwear sliding off his legs. This isn't happening.

You ignore his useless protests and start unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it off his shoulders roughly but not quite taking it off -- the contrast of his pale, heaving chest and his flushed face as he lies helpless in front of you with his dick out almost makes you forget how irritated you are with him. Almost. But just because he’s cute doesn’t mean you’re not going to make him pay for daring to talk to you like you’re a piece of garbage on the side of the road.

You envelop his hard shaft with your hand and start pumping, slowly, letting him feel the soft texture of your palm and ignoring his pleas for you to wait. With every stroke his sensitivity increases, the thought of being caught flies away as if someone just blew in his skull and the redhead can only claw at the ground and pull at the grass with jerking fingers as a sweet voice starts spilling out of him.

It's just broken gasps at first, confused, scared and excited in equal measure—and then the world loses focus and it's full blown moans, little sighs that grow in volume the more you manhandle him. His shaft and your fingers become slick with precum and the movements become easier and smoother, the tingles in his crotch fly up his spine and he has to remind himself that this is wrong to keep himself from bucking up into your hand.

Stubborn as he is, he almost succeeds in resisting you. But you know just how to break him, allowing yourself a few seconds to listen to his cute moans while you wet your fingers, saliva dripping down your wrist as you methodically suck on the appendages as if they were the hard, leaking dick in your hand.

When you decide your fingers are wet enough, you bring them down to his ass and spread his cheeks to find that tight hole no one has ever touched before.

His entire body jolts when you start circling it, the sensation completely knew and so unexpected that he momentarily comes back to reality. "Wait—not there!" He tries to raise his head but his willpower leaves him when your middle finger draws a deep semi-circle around the rim.

It feels so fucking weird, he jerks his head this and that way as he tries to focus on the hand on his cock and the finger prodding at his hole at the same time. It's tingly and intense and he doesn't want it, his hot asshole parts under your push, welcoming you in a cavern of velvet, and the gasp that leaves him is the loudest one yet. 

"Relax, you little moron." You stretch him carefully, briefly wondering if he's going to come from your handjob before you even have the time to reach his prostate. He's so fucking tight, unused, pure and yet vulgar as he moans and twitches under your skilled hands.

You insert another finger in and his voice turns high-pitched, then you brush against that little button inside his ass—barely, just the ghost of a touch—and he falls off the edge, convulsing like he's been electrocuted and cumming all over himself.

His semen lands on his chest and jacket and as he slowly comes down from cloud nine, eyes glazed and drool on his chin, he briefly wonders how the fuck he's going to go back to his dorm with cum on his uniform. Then he feels you crawl on top of him and that thought too seems to dissolve into thin air.

No one can blame him for being unable to think, unable to act and, somewhere in the deepest recess of his mind, unwilling to move when you start stroking his sensitive dick again, your hair tickling his chin. He can feel how warm your body is and how nice you smell now that you're so close. If you weren't such a fucking demon it would almost feel nice.

"What's your name?" You exhale next to his ear and he shivers, feeling sick to his stomach when he realizes it's because he wants your lips on him.

"A-Ace…" He mutters, tilting his head away from you as much as he can. The white expanse of his neck is right there and you place a few slow, open-mouthed kisses on his vulnerable skin. Ace's heart does a fucking pirouette, little sparks of pleasure run down his abdomen and he lets out a soft moan, one he wishes he could stuff back in his mouth as soon as he hears it.

He feels the sudden urge to cling to you as he lets you kiss him everywhere. He wonders how it would feel to have your mouth draw a line from his collarbones to his stomach before you take his cock in your mouth and the thought alone makes his entire body tremble with need, little gasps leaving him as you lick the curve of his jaw and then blow on it.

"Ace." You growl his name against his skin and the vibration threatens to destroy the rickety dam that keeps his sanity in place. You're doing something unforgivable to him, fuck, Ace knows it and he hates you for it, but the way you say his name makes him so fucking glad to be born, glad to be lying in the grass like a slut with his pants discarded somewhere and your hand slowly stroking his cock.

"Fuck—don't say it like t-that…" He practically wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut as he focuses on the scorching waves of pleasure that pulse through his abdomen when you chuckle against his skin. This feels so fucking nice, one of his hands reaches down to grab your wrist while you continue to stroke him and he absentmindedly caresses your hand as you pump his cock.

He curses loudly as he takes in the hard curve of your knuckles and the wetness of your fingers. Your touch is different than what he's used to, rough but with a regular rhythm that pushes him closer and closer to his orgasm with every flick of your hand. You lazily nibble at his jaw and he suddenly finds himself overrun by the universally irresistible urge to come. Fuck, he's gonna come so hard in a hand that's not his own—

"S-so—sensitive—fuck, gonna cum all over your fingers—" His other hand grabs your shoulder in a way that almost feels too romantic given the situation, but Ace doesn't give a damn. The only thing that matters right now is your hand jacking him off and the trail of stars that dances behind his eyelids as you shatter his galaxy.

So close—so close—his moans become loud and shameless as he bucks up into you, ignoring how useless his body still feels because right now he really fucking needs to come again. 

The muscles in his abdomen tighten, hot white pleasure flashes in front of his eyes and Ace is so fucking ready when he arches his back, but instead of feeling relief, a tidal wave of frustration and disappointment crashes into his electrified body and his loud voice trails off in a pained whine as you suddenly take your hand off his dick, denying him the sweet mercy of orgasmic bliss.

The disparity between what he’s feeling and what he expected to feel is so vast it takes him a minute to realize what happened, the dam in his head breaks and he’s left gasping and sobbing and twitching, hands flying and grasping at the grass beneath him as he struggles to catch his breath.

"—What the fuck?!" He basically screams, looking at you with teary eyes and a face that screams betrayal, "W-why did you s-stop?! I told you I was close!" His chest heaves and he looks almost possessed when his own hand reaches for his abused, throbbing cock, fully intent on finishing the job one way or another.

You stop him before his fingertips even reach the shaft, meeting no resistance when you pin his hand back against the grass.

Ace glares at you but it's feeble and pathetic, the last remains of his rejection completely snuffed out by the shock of being denied an orgasm for the first time in his life. He doesn't look proud and hateful anymore; he’s now just a brat naked from the waist down, this close to crying because he didn’t get fucked the way he wanted.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I thought you wanted me to stop? Did you change your mind, Ace?” The voice that whispered his name almost lovingly in his ears now drips with venom, almost as if you’re imitating the way he talked to you just a handful of minutes earlier.

Ace flinches, his heart sinks and he looks fucking crushed as he takes in your cold expression. You’re not going to stop, are you—? Not now that he actually wants you to touch him—?

“No...that’s not—I didn’t—” He splutters, flushing up to his ears when he realizes he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Do you want him to beg? Because at this point Ace doesn’t really care enough to even object to that. He just wants you back on top of him. He wants to feel your warmth and have your scent fill his head while you bring him to his release again.

“Dont...be like that...come on,” He groans, letting his head fall to the ground. His dick hurts. His back hurts. Fuck, everything hurts, even his heart for some fucking reason. He doesn't like it when you look at him like you hate him. If anything he should be the one looking at you like that, not the other way around.

"Y-you want me to beg? Is that it?" Ace scoffs and weakly spreads his legs, leaving his cum-stained self complete exposed to your scrutiny. He has the decency to look embarrassed, but when his glazed eyes slowly go from your face to the tent in your pants, what you see in them is not disdain or shame, but pure, unbridled lust.

"You'll beg without me having to ask for it." Ace follows your hand as it goes to your belt, and when you unbuckle it, the soft, erotic click makes his body tremble and his heart flutter.

It's not like he wants to see it—his eyes stay on your crotch as you slowly pull your pants down, revealing the black underwear beneath.

Are you—are you going to pull it out? Out here where everyone can see?—Ace momentarily forgets that he's had his dick out in public for more than it's considered appropriate in every fucking country across the world. Every one of his thoughts comes to an abrupt halt, like he's suffered a concussion.

Except he hasn't, he's just drooling in his mouth at the thought of your cock.

"You don't get to come again, I told you you're going to be fucked like the little bitch you are." You finally pull your dick out, hissing when the air hits your feverish skin and Ace thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust.

The rush of heat that flares beneath his skin is unlike anything he’s ever felt and his slow mind has trouble comprehending whether he suddenly feels on fire because he can see your erection right in front of him or because of the sound you just made. Both. It’s probably both.

“Is that right…” He probably sounds as dazed as he feels—his breath catches in his throat when you lean down again, hovering over him but not quite touching him, the ghost of your breath on his lips threatening to turn him delirious.

You teasingly drag your wet erection across his stomach and Ace moans, his eyes falling shut when your dicks touch. He grinds up against you without thinking and suddenly his body is weightless and he's on the verge of coming all over himself. It feels like every nerve he has is experiencing its own little earthquake, the sound that leaves your lips makes his mind fall apart at the seams and the only thing he can say is a long, desperate "Fuuuck."

His eyes flutter open and he finds you smirking down at him; the sight is so surprising and so beautiful that Ace’s heart lodges straight in his throat.

"Turn around and raise your ass." You chuckle and he goes redder than his hair, but ultimately doesn't protest, waiting for you to give him some space before complying.

The sleeves of his uniform are completely ruined at his point, wet with dew and mud and grass as he pulls himself up on his elbows and gives you an expectant look from over his shoulder. 

What he doesn't expect is to feel your thick fingers push into him again. He almost falls face first into the dirt as he gasps, waist shaking as he's once again wrecked by the feeling of his rim being teased. 

You stretch him more insistently then before, the saliva and cum on your fingers aiding you in your preparations. You try to avoid his prostate, because Ace is already shaking like a leaf and you know how close he is to his climax, but your redhead seems to have had enough of being edged and insistently grinds back into your fingers until you touch that sweet spot inside him that makes his dick leak precum like a faucet. 

He's still not used to it however, and the shock of such an intense stimulation makes his elbows give out as he falls unceremoniously on his face. But he doesn't seem to care, cheek pressed against the grass and eyes squeezed shut as he experiences having his prostate massaged for the first time.

Fuck, he’s sure his legs are going to give out soon too. If just your fingers feel this good, what’s going to happen when you stick your dick in—? Is he going to lose his mind—? Somewhere along the line he seems to have completely forgotten that he's outside in broad daylight with his ass in the air. But even if someone were to see him getting fucked like a slut, would it really be so bad—?

"Hold on tight, stupid," You take your fingers out and he whines softly, sounding surprisingly disappointed for someone who has never had their ass played with before, "I'm gonna make sure you can never come just from touching yourself ever again."

You line your hard cock against his opening and Ace shivers from both anticipation and fear. You’re so big—is—is this gonna hurt? I mean, after everything you've done to him this should be a walk in the park, right—?

It isn't.

You slowly push your dick inside and Ace's first instinct is to scream.

His mind shatters into oblivion as he takes in the feeling of your thick cock stretching him like he's a fucktoy. But this is still nothing, you haven't done anything yet and he's already broken. You pull your hips back and thrust into him hard, your dick scrapes against his prostate and Ace falls into a state of euphoric delirium.

He was made for this, he thinks. Born with the sole purpose of being your slut, ass up and legs spread as he invites you to plow him harder, to mess up his head until your cock is the only thing he can think about. 

And he doesn't even know your name, Ace realizes as his body bounces back and forth against the grass with the force of your thrusts, his tongue lolls out and he tries his best to match your movements with his exhausted body, his hole squeezing your dick like it doesn't want to ever let go.

"Fuuuck—can we do this like…..every day from no—ah!—now on?!" He'll let you do anything you want if you promise to keep fucking him like he's your girlfriend. On his bed in front of his roommates, in class, on the headmaster's desk, anywhere you want him, Ace will be a good bitch for you.

In response to his nonsense you griiind into him and the explosive pleasure that flashes in front of his vision is almost seismic, devastating like nothing he's ever experienced as he breaks and cries and cums all over the grass, eyes rolling back when you roughly grab his hair and thrust a few more times before painting his insides white with your own release.

You make sure to fill him to the brim and Ace doesn't pull away. Instead he remains obediently glued to your crotch as the feeling of hot semen running down his legs completely obliterates his sanity.

Your nasty temper placated for the time being, you pull out in one swift motion and let his boneless body fall to the ground.

Ace groans and curses you under his breath, then he very slowly rolls onto his back, still dazed by the fact that you just came inside him.

If he thought everything hurt before, now he thinks he might actually need to pay a visit to the nurse's office. The effects of the Paralyzer have worn off by now but he's so fucking tired—he startles out of his drunk reverie when something like a curtain falls on his head. 

Except it's not a curtain, but his pants. He takes them off his face and gives you a weak glare as you adjust your belt.

"Wear a skirt next time," You throw him a smirk over your shoulder and Ace hates the way his heart quivers, "Like a good girl."

You barely have the time to dodge the shoe that comes hurtling towards your head, Ace quickly reaching for the other shoe when you start running back towards the school building.

 "Fuck you!—"