#their prayer is so strong and so close that the buzz in the back of merlin’s head turns into very clear screaming

[justaz]

god!merlin

druids can NOT speak in people’s minds. when they are before a high priestess, they can pray to her directly and she can hear them (hence the scene between morgana and mordred when he spoke in her mind).

merlin who constantly has this buzzing in the back of his head that he can never understand besides the occasional odd word which makes no sense. but when he’s closer to a druid or when their prayer is super strong, then he can make out what they’re saying.

merlin who brings up the fact that druids can speak into peoples minds to gaius who casually unfurls a scroll containing his ongoing list of reasons why merlin is/evidence of merlin being a god of the old religion.

[complexcritterscave]

Me when I write

Hope you all enjoy Cheshire Cat doomed yuri. This ship has grown on me a bit chat.

Also they start out dating? Woah that's rare from me

Enjoy hurhurhur

Edit before Posting #1: WTF SHE’S 6’7?! 9’0+ WITH THE HAT?! Oh my God she’s literally a fucking GIANT!!!!!!!

EBP #2: Urg I made myself jealous can’t wait to cause suffering

EBP #3: OH YEAH I should probably mention blood and character death warning. It does get a bit graphic towards the end. Viewer discretion is advised.

The elevator was noisy...

And full

Full and noisy...

She hated that.

Two of the things that she hated the most, combining into one awful physical hell.

Her ears flattened as each voice jumbled with one another.

"Brick boy."

"*KRRTZ* WA-WARNING PROTOCOL INITIATED! Animals of such large aren't allowed in the estabilishment! Please re-relocate."

"You wouldn't even hear a fly buzzing around through that thick wooded skull."

"I hate that um... dumb green cat."

So much noise, so many arguments. And then that dumb animatronic had the nerve to say she wasn’t allowed. Sure she wasn’t the thinnest cat but what she lacked there she made up for in strength. At least she thought she was strong.

Ugh! Why is she thinking so hard about this?! She just needs to get to the WHEEL OF floor, then she can get off this elevator and not have to worry about psychos anymore.

As if she spoke it into existence, the elevator dinged before its doors opened, revealing the floor as she let out a quiet prayer and sighed. She wasted no time to push past the others, earning her a few confused stares as she exited the elevator.

She made sure her tail wasn’t caught in the door, as that had happened before and trust her, not only was it painful but she nearly lost it entire, before turning her gaze to the purple suited deity that sat on the crates near the wheel. Her closed eyes opening at the sound of someone’s arrival.

"Retro!"

The feline purred as she heard the adoration in Mach’s voice, rushing over and climbing onto the stage before sitting next to her.

"Mrrow!" «Hi Mach!»

"What brings you here?"

DrRETRO rolled her eyes as she looked at the deity, who was now leaning forward with a knowing grin on her face.

"Meow!" «I know that look. You know why I’m here!»

"Yeah I know! I missed you."

"Meow.." «It’s only been a day.»

"That long?! Yeesh I don’t wanna know how two days are like!"

Before DrRETRO could respond, she heard the sound of a metal door slamming open. Of course being a cat, well katball, she was startled by it; instinctively jumping back to avoid possible danger.

Instead, she was met with the cowardly, caterpillar, clown. Pilby was staring at the two awkwardly, their face contorting into one of anxiety.

"D'ohhh… I’m sorry. Am I messing something up. Heugh I always mess up :0(…"

"Pilby we’ve talked about this, you’re not a mess up. You’re not interrupting anything."

"Oh good golly. I’m sorry Mach."

"It’s okay. You’re fine! If you wanna go on the elevator, you can. They haven’t left yet."

Pilby turned towards the open doors. Upon hearing and seeing the chaos that occurred, they shook their head rapidly.

"Oh fiddle faddle! That looks overwhelming! I prefer to stay here please…"

"Suit yourself."

She turned towards the startled cat, chuckling quietly as she lifted her top hat. At least the caterpillar wasn’t alone when it came to feeling afraid..

The doors of the elevator closed, taking the rowdy crowd with it as it began to ascend.

"Me-" «So-»

The doctor couldn’t even finish her statement- erm meow before she was pulled close and given several kisses on her forehead by Mach. As much as the feline loved it, she wouldn’t let her get away with this. At least not without a challenge, trashing around as she purred in an attempt to escape.

"Hey stop that! I’m not finished with you yet!"

DrRETRO continued her attempt at escape, her purring becoming louder before she eventually gave in. It’s not like she didn’t enjoy it, after all, anything that came from the deity was practically a gift… At least to her.

"Mrrrooow.." «I let you win this time.»

"Sure you did."

Mach held the face of the feline, looking down at her with a smile as she rubbed her cheeks.

"You’re really soft you know that?"

"Mmmrreow!" «Who do you take me for? Bive? I shower every day!»

"Yet you’re still a big, fat, stinker."

"Purrrr…" «I’m your big, fat, stinker.»

"Touché."

Pilby was left watching the two from the side, smiling as they listened to their adorable conversation. They found their relationship to be like two middle schoolers who had just gotten together, being all lovey dovey and overly affectionate with each other. They were glad they had fallen for one another.

Mach being the keeper and caretaker for the "[X] OF" floors, had a tendency to overwork herself. The last time that happened, someone ended up getting a hammer straight to the gut; and based off the sound, they were pretty sure it took a while before that person had actually healed. Not to mention Mach was left were a darker coloured hammer than what she originally had.

She did eventually attempt to apologize to them but the damage had been done and they immediately ran off before she could get halfway through her statements. They never heard or saw it happening again… But they were pretty certain it did when they weren’t around…

DrRETRO was similar. Usually overworking herself to give others check up. From what Pil heard, Bive was the most difficult one to handle, typically having to either be held down or knocked out to get her to comply. Just the sound of it seemed exhausting and irritating…

The difference between the two was DrRETRO fought dirty, going for quick and deadly attacks or attempting to cause some sort of permanent damage to her opponent. They were certain this had to do with her going to prison as they once witnessed, first hand, along with Mark and Spud!, her and Gnarpy get into a giant cat fight. Fur flying in frenzy as they fought tooth and claw. Even with the alien having the extra limbed advantage, xe still lost horribly due to Retro’s size and strength. Pilby even thought with Gnarpy’s zapper or whatever xe called it, xey would still lose!

They were certain the only reason why the katball even decided to heal xem was because Spud! asked her to! The very guy that hated Gnarpy ended up feeling bad for how badly xe lost the battle. Apparently that was enough to get the doctor to lift her glasses and beam the poor Gnarpian. As stoic as Gnarpy was, they had never seen xem look at someone with such hatred yet also pure terror in their four eyes.

Ever since then if either one saw the other on the elevator they flat out refused to enter it. They could’ve swore they even saw Gnarpy flinch one time when DrRETRO narrowed her eyes at xem.

However, it’s like they both tried to better themselves for the other. Both never overworked themselves since they got together, like they wanted to be the best version they could be for each other. It was absolutely adorable in the caterpillars eyes. Sometimes they even had little sleep overs! Mach typically left Pilby in charge when she was gone but always made sure that every task, except the easier ones so they didn’t feel useless, were already completed to prevent any accidents.

They watched as the two enjoyed each other’s company, talking and dropping the occasional pet name or tease. After a few minutes they decided to leave them alone, quietly walking across the stage and walking through the other metal door.

"Waowee, they’re adorable! I’m happy for them."

Mach listened as DrRETRO ranted about her day. From the rowdy elevator, to uncooperative or annoying patients, and even Jermbo not helping her out as he promised. He was always selling his pops that made everyone drop like flies… Well more like turn to dust. Mach witnessed it happen once, it freaked her out to think that something so simple could disintegrate someone just like that.

"So in other words, your day so far hasn’t been ideal."

"Mrraow…" «Yeah...»

"Well at least you’re here with me. I’m sure my mere presence can brighten it."

"Mew." «You’re so egocentric.»

"I am not! I’m just being honest!"

The feline rolled her eyes as she looked towards Mach, continuing to purr quietly with a small grin on her face.

"Mrrow..?" «Hey Mach?»

"Hm?"

"Mrreoww… Meow…?" «Maybe I’ve been listening to Split talk too much about Bive’s conspiracy theories but… You really think there’s other versions of you?»

"What?"

"Meow! Meww…" «You know like if there are different versions of you! Maybe a you that wears pink suit instead of purple?»

"That sounds like a fashion disaster, everyone knows purple is the superior colour."

"Meow! Mmmeow? Mrrow…" «Oh come on I’m being serious! Maybe in a different universe we switch roles? I take care of the Wheel of or Hall of or Wall of or whatever and you’re the one taking care of the others.»

"I mean… It sounds like an interesting concept. I don’t think it’s entirely plausible though. Well maybe it could exist…"

"Meow!" «Maybe I have a giant top hat or I’m just a dog in another reality!»

"I’m sure my catself would still love your dog self."

…

"Merrow.." «That makes me wonder…»

"What?"

"Mrroww…" «Are we together in those realities?»

"Well I’m sure we are! Seems unlikely that we aren’t."

"Mew…" «Yeah… You’re right…»

"When am I not?"

Mach would take her hat before covering the doctor’s face with it, mischievous grin on her face to contrast her usual neutral expression.

"MROW!" «YOU LITTLE-!»

She pulled the hat off her face, an amused purr erupting from the feline as she gazed up at the deity.

The next few hours of theirs were just spent talking and enjoying each other’s company, and before long, it was time for DrRETRO to go. She bid her farewells as she made her way back to the elevator and pressing one of the buttons. As she waited, she felt a slight tug on her sleeve as she looked down towards the cowardly caterpillar she saw earlier.

"Heugh, you don’t mind if I come with you do you? I’m pretty sure most of the ones from earlier got off. Plus, I need to get something from Enphoso’s shop..."

She nodded with a purr, she never minded Pilby. They were a sweetheart and one of the few more tolerable beings to be around. Plus, it was just a quick trip to the store and back; she could wait that long for them. The elevator dinged, opening its doors to reveal a nearly empty elevator; minus a tired Lampert and reserved Pest.

The two didn’t say a word at DrRETRO and Pilby entered the elevator, keeping to themselves rather than engaging in small talk. Pilby was already completing the necessary steps to make it to their desired floor before shuffling back over to stand near DrRETRO.

Soon enough Lampert exited onto his IKEA floor and Pest left to scrounge the subways, leaving the caterpillar and katball alone.

"So uhm…"

She looked down at Pilby, tilting her head.

"How are you?

"Meow." «Good…»

"That’s nice… That’s good… D’ohhh sorry for making things awkward. I just couldn’t stand the silence anymore."

"Mrrow." «It’s okay, I understand.»

"Are you gonna get anything from Enphoso’s shop?"

"Mmmmrew." «Hmm, I don’t think so.»

"Maybe you could get a gift for Mach?"

"Mrow-?" «What-?»

"W-Well you don’t have to! I was just suggesting since you two are together now you could get something for her? Heugh! Sorry for invading I don’t mean to be a nosy busybody…"

"Meow!" «No no, that’s a good idea!»

"Oh… That’s good!"

Retro nodded. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?! It was perfect! But what kind of gift could she get her? Enphoso had some of the most… interesting items. She could’ve sworn she remembered seeing some sort of plushed golden doll. When asked about it, apparently it was called The Token of Midas. What it did, she didn’t even wanna find out. She knew little of Midas but she knew about how everything he touched turned to gold.

That wasn’t a risk she wanted to take.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a small ding was heard, the doors of the elevator opening and revealing the cheery music of Enphoso’s Shop. The katball and caterpillar stepped out of the elevator as its doors closed behind them.

"Hello!"

An overwhelmingly cheerful and echoing voice spoke out. One she had heard many times, it was like a broken record.

"Welcome to my store. I only sell glig glags and doo dads, so be sure to pay up at the front desk! BUT DON'T STEAL ANYTHING FROM ME."

Yet another empty threat of the yellow, smiling, cashier. She had witnessed Pest swipe items from the shelves and face no consequences almost as many times as she heard its voice. Either Enphoso was extremely blind or extremely stupid; maybe even a bit of both.

Pilby had wasted no time to gather their items, which was simply some more apples and a small tub of frosting. DrRETRO was taking much longer however, carefully scanning the shelves for the perfect gift as Pilby watched from afar.

"What’s she looking for? Are my glig glags and doo dads not enough? Or is she planning on stealing..?"

The caterpillar jumped back out of fear. They never heard Enphoso speak in such a quiet yet malicious manner, the glare it sent them didn’t help either.

"Honk! Sh-She’s just looking for a-a gift for someone..!"

"You better not be lying caterpillar. I hate accomplices just as much as their thieving frie-"

It was cut off as someone cleared their throat. Enphoso looked up, its chilling smile remaining on its face as it looked at the katball doctor.

"Took you long enough, silly!"

DrRETRO merely rolled her eyes and placed a purple bowling ball on the counter. She would have preferred flowers but of course it didn’t have any… Weird smiley face.

"Will that be all?"

"Mrrew.." «Yes..»

The two watched as it rung up their items and sent them on their way.

"See you later! Hope you enjoyed your stay…"

Enphoso’s high pitched giggles could be heard as the elevator doors closed, freaky weirdo smiley face. What was wrong with that thing? It was always acting so weird.. She didn’t like it at all.

"I don’t think that thing likes you very much."

"Meow." «I don’t like it either.»

"That’s fair. What’d you get?"

"Mrrow. Mraow." «This purple bowling ball. I wanted to get her flowers, but just my luck that thing didn’t sell them.»

"Maybe you can get her flowers later?"

"Mrow-" «Maybe I could-»

The sound of metal and concrete scraping against each other cut her off. Both she and Pilby lifted their heads and looked at the ceiling towards two holes that replaced where the fluorescent lights would be.

"Mrrow..?" «What in the…?»

The caterpillar had already backed away, not wanting to get too close in case electrical wires fell from the openings. For DrRETRO? Curiosity killed the cat. One moment there was just confused staring and questioning mrrows, the next the sound of the bowling ball cracking as it hit the floor along with a cut off excruciating yowl.

Pilby could do nothing but stare in horror as the sound of metal pierced flesh and broke through bones filled their ears, the feeling of warm blood splattering on them as they dropped their newly bought items and covered their mouth in shock.

The caterpillar watched as DrRETRO quivered a few times before falling completely still, her eyes dull and lifeless as the metal spike that pierced her body slowly lifted back into the ceiling; dripping the thick crimson liquid from its tip and onto the floor. The katball laid there motionless, her fur stained red and skull cracked open.

The sight was too grotesque for Pilby, causing them to look away while crying. They felt sick to their stomach, they wanted to throw up. They were covered in blood, good GOD they were covered in her blood. What were they gonna do? They what COULD they do?! They can’t just carry her back to her floor she was way too heavy and-

Wait…

How were they even gonna explain this to Mach?

How could they break this down for her?! "Yeah sorry your girlfriend is dead.." THAT’S NOT HOW YOU TELL PEOPLE SOMEONE DIED! Christ they had no idea what to do..

They turned back to the lifeless body behind them before looking at the cracked bowling ball. She bought it for Mach, it’d only be fair that she received the gift, even if it was not of use. It laid partially in the small crimson pool that had gathered around the doctor, Pilby picked it up and held it carefully before backing away. Their once white and green pale paws now stained as they picked up their own belongings.

They continued growing more and more queasy as the metallic smell of iron filled their nose. Upon hearing the ding of the elevator, they waited impatiently for the doors to open before running out, tears still streaming down their face as they rushed towards the stage.

Mach was still there, sitting on the wooden crate with her eyes closed before opening them as she heard the arrival of the elevator. A smile nearly graced her face before she saw the distressed and bloodied Pilby running towards her. Immediately she grew concerned, getting up and stepping off the stage.

"Huh- Pilby? What’s wrong? What happened?!"

Her grip on her hammer tightened as the caterpillar stopped abruptly in front of her, unsure of how to begin. She noticed the clown makeup on their face had started to run due to their tears, she noticed how they struggled to speak, she noticed the items that they held in their many arms. She kneeled down, carefully taking the items before placing them on the floor along with her hammer.

"Pilby. Calm down, it’s okay. You’re safe now."

"Hng- She- The-"

"Shhh… Calm down… It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You’re not in any danger."

"The spikes-"

Spikes? She never really took the elevator anywhere, so she had no earthly idea what they were talking about. She knew a few of the floors such as the one where its bottom fell out, she thinks it was called the frightening floor..? She couldn’t entirely remember.. However, she did her best to comfort them holding two of their hands.

"What about spikes?"

"The lights moved an-and-"

"And…?"

"They killed her!"

Mach grew more concerned as they spoke.

"Killed who?"

"We were just coming back from the shop.. And it killed her."

"Pilby, who died?"

"She was looking at the holes in the ceiling, she was just looking, and then the spikes fell and one of them killed her. It killed DrRETRO!"

Mach felt her heart drop, her already pale face turning whiter at the news. There was no way… There was absolutely no way she was dead. She didn’t want to believe it. She refused to believe it!

"What..?"

"She’s in the elevator. I didn’t know what to do. I can’t carry her, she’s too heavy. I didn’t know if I should’ve taken her to her floor or not. I didn’t know! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-"

"…"

Mach listened as the caterpillar repeatedly apologized, slowly looking towards the elevator. The doors hadn’t closed yet, it was like it was begging her to take a glance. Begging her to see what it did. Like it wanted to prove her wrong..

"Stop apologizing… Head to your room…"

Pilby stood still as they watched the deity slowly make her way towards the elevator, they had stopped apologizing but they didn’t leave. Not yet. They were still too distressed to leave.

Mach cringed as she got closer to the elevator, she hadn’t even looked inside yet she could see the blood dripped off the railing and running down the walls. She took a deep breath before stepping inside, her stomach churning in disgust and despair at the grisly sight before her.

Before her lay the body of DrRETRO. From what she could tell the 'spike' had fallen through and pierced her from her skull through her stomach. Bits of bone and brain laid near her, her eyes were dull, blood had dripped from her mouth and stained her fur.

Mach let out a quiet sigh, forcing herself to stay calm for now. She couldn’t just leave her here but she had no clue what to do with her body. She looked at the buttons of the elevator, her mind coming up with an idea as she pressed them with shaking hands.

She pressed the frightening floor, searching her pockets for a coin before placing it in the slot.

She stepped off the elevator, staring into the eyes of DrRETRO as the doors slowly shut.

She turned towards Pilby, staring at the caterpillar as they trembled.

"Mach..?"

"Go get cleaned up.."

"… Okay…"

She sighed as they didn’t press further, however they did pause for a moment, picking up the cracked bowling ball and slowly making their way over to Mach.

"She heugh… She bought this for you… Enphoso didn’t have any flowers so she got this instead.."

Mach carefully took the bowling ball from the caterpillar before they left, going to get cleaned up as they muttered quietly to themselves and went through the metal door.

She stared at the purple bowling ball, gripping it tightly in her hands as tears began streaming down her face, staining her cheeks as she trembled. She wanted this to be some sort of horrible nightmare, she wanted this to be some sort of sick yet false reality. But the more she stared at it, the worse she felt. The more she stared, the more it sank in, the more she stared, the more she realized there was nothing she could do to change this outcome.

All Mach could do right now, was breakdown in silence..

RAHHHGGGGG LIVE LAUGH LOVE YURI!!!!

I fell asleep while writing the end and woke up with a headache sorry for any silly typos and horrible grammar that appears.

Hope you enjoyed it!!!!!

[naavispider]

Ok so the last part in “Jake’s first flight” soundtrack in Avatar is Ninat praying to Eywa, and that game me an idea. What if the recoms squad camped somewhere near a lone tree of voices and Spider took the opportunity to bow at its roots and sing prayers? How would they (mostly Quaritch tho) react to it? To him singing in Na’vi, and in a religious context?

The moss was a soft blanket under his knees. He knelt down amongst the tender, lilac tendrils of the Tree of Voices like he was on hallowed ground. Every movement had to be soft, considered and mindful. This was a place where Eywa saw all.

“Great Mother, I pray for the wellness of my family. I pray for the prosperity and safety of the People. Let the be okay. Let them escape the terror of discovery.” He carded his fingers through a few glowing branches, as softly as he could, and closed his eyes while holding them. “Most importantly, I pray for forgiveness for my part in that terror. I will be strong, but I know it is not enough. I pray that you can forgive me for being with the Sky People. I pray that you can forgive me for the evil in my veins. Look into my heart and know that it is with the People. Ma Eywa, forgive me.”

When he opened his eyes, he was still as alone as he could be. A soft breeze rustled over the grass around him, and for a second he swore the tree grew brighter. He splayed one hand on the ground as his heartbeat picked up, keeping the other gently holding the tree’s tendrils. It had always been his way of connecting to Eywa without a kuru. “Ma Eywa,” he whispered through closed eyelids, feeling more certain than ever that she was listening.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?”

In an instant, it was over. The wind died and the light dimmed. Spiders heart sank as he opened his eyes in anger, immediately raging that none other than Colonel Miles Quaritch had interrupted.

“Minding my own business,” he growled, standing up and turning around to glare at Quaritch.

Quaritch however, seemed oblivious to Spider’s ire. “What was that?” he asked, a frown forming on his face as he gestured at the tree.

Spider narrowed his eyes, not sure if he wanted to share that most precious moment with the RDA squad leader. He bit his tongue for a moment. “Nothing.”

Quaritch looked suspicious. He tilted his head to the side and his tail swished agitatedly behind him. Eventually he decided to take Spider’s word for it. “What are you doing over here by yourself? Come back to the squad.”

Spider turned his back, resuming his position on the floor. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Spider-“

“Leave me alone.”

Quaritch clearly felt some type of way about this, because he hesitated before answering. “If you get eaten by some beast don’t blame me.”

Spider rolled his eyes at the man’s attempt at humour, and didn’t respond. If he did, it wouldn’t be pleasant. He waited until the sound of the recom’s boots had retreated all the way back to where the rest of the temporary camp was set up, a decent distant away from the tree. He closed his eyes again, trying to get back to that place of calm and stillness that had allowed Eywa to hear him. He lowered his breathing and heart rates, and tried to focus on feeling her energy, but the moment was gone.

“Demons!” he cursed.

He took a deep breath, and settled back on his haunches, listening to the low buzz of the forest as he brought to the forefront of his mind a song. In a low voice, he began to sing:

Utralä (a)Nawm ayrina’l(u) ayoeng, A peyä tìtxur mì hinam awngeyä N(a) aysangek afkeu, Mì pun N(a) ayvul ahusawnu, M(ì) aynar Na seze A ’ong ne tsawke. Utralä (a)Nawm ayrina’ l(u) ayoeng, A peyä tìrol m(ì) awnga.

The song told of the connectivity of the People, and Spider had heard it sung and joined in countless times during periods of loss and also celebration. It was one of his favourite ways to pay tribute to Eywa.

Unfortunately for him, his singing hadn’t gone unnoticed. He was brought back to reality by a piercing whistle from the camp. He gasped, spinning round to see who or what had just invaded his privacy again.

“Shut it Lyle,” Quaritch chastised from not too far away.

Wainfleet looked smug as anything, grinning from ear to ear, but he had the common sense to not speak again.

“Bastards,” Spider hissed.

Quaritch put his hands up, slowly approaching Spider’s spot under the tree as if Spider was a scared animal and he was worried about spooking him. “That was pretty impressive. That was all in your funky alien language?”

Spider simmered, clenching his fists at his side. Why he ever bothered trying to teach Quaritch the funky alien language, Spider didn’t know. “Are you trying to piss me off? Cause it’s fucking working.”

“Hey, don’t give me that,” Quaritch said, making a faux offended expression. “I was just thinking how nice it sounded.”

Spider raised an eyebrow. That sounded like some bullshit. “Did you fall over a blastbulb or something?” Maybe the recom was sick.

"Can I not enjoy something?"

Spider squirmed uncomfortably. Not when it comes from me. "No."

Quaritch took a seat next to Spider. The tree of voices's branches brushed over the recom's shoulders and he pulled them off gently. "Sounded real special."

"It was," Spider replied, deadpan. He so did not want to be having this conversation with Quaritch. Especially not here, so close to Eywa.

"What does it mean?" Quaritch pressed. He sounded sincere for once, so Spider grit his teeth and tried to explain.

"It's a song about connectivity. It tells us that we're all seeds of the sacred tree. We are all of Eywa, and eventually we will all return to her."

"Eywa...?"

"The Great Mother."

Quaritch nodded his head as if he'd just put the name to the colloquialism. "Gotcha."

Spider stared at him sideways. Why did he care? Why was he listening to him?

"And this Eywa, she's the big daddy around here, right? The one all the local nuts are obsessed with..." He didn't say it as a question, more like a memory that was coming back to him from a previous life. "I remember Augustine..."

Spider flinched at the mention of Kiri's mom. He also wasn't used to anyone talking about Eywa in such a dismissive and disrespectful way. He'd never heard that before. "You don't see, so just stop talking."

Quaritch had the gumption to look confused.

"You think it's something to joke about. Well I don't want to hear it. Go slander her name to your boyfriend." He nodded over to Wainfleet.

"Woah, kid!" Quaritch was clearly baffled at Spider's response. "I didn't mean to offend. Don't get yourself riled up. I just wanna know why you believe so much in this... this deity."

"...Why do I believe?"

"That's right."

Spider thought about it for a moment, running his hands over the moss beneath him and watching it glow. "....Because she's real."

"Ah ah!" Quaritch made a disappointed face as if Spider had just lost a game or answered a question wrong. "That's a logical fallacy. I'm asking you what evidence do you have."

Spider frowned.

"I mean, there must be a lot if you're willing to sit and sing a song to a tree for half an hour for her."

He bristled, trying not to let Quaritch's language rile him up. "She lives in all of us," he began to explain slowly. "When we die, we return to her and the People can hear their ancestors living on at places like this. She guided Jake through her eye and blessed him with a new body." He shrugged. "If you want evidence, talk to the science guys. Oh wait..." He looked straight at Quaritch. "You already killed one of them."

Quaritch kept his face impassive, though he stretched his jaw, taking in Spider's words. "We've all wished for do-overs, kid," he finally replied, so quietly that Spider wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. Was Quaritch trying to say that he regretted killing Grace?

"You don't belong in a place like this," Spider said, having finally had enough.

"What? And you do?" Quaritch appraised him, an irritated frown line forming between his eyes. "Look at you. You can't even plug into the thing."

Spider snapped, hissing at Quaritch. How dare this man invade his privacy - invade Eywa's sacred site - spew doubts and insults and then attack Spider for not being Na'vi... "Get out!" he yelled, needing the man to retreat to at least a few feet away from the tree's edge. Preferably the middle of a deep lake with weights on his feet, if possible.

"Right, you're kinda sensitive about that, huh?"

"I said get OUT!" A breeze had swept up in the past minute or two, seeming to circle where the pair were sat. At Spider's words, it turned ice cold.

"Jesus!" Quaritch cussed, noticing the dramatic change in temperature. He stared questioningly at Spider, who remained resolutely planted on the ground, the temperature not appearing to affect him. After a second of hesitation, Quaritch got up to his feet and hastily retreated back to the camp, watching Spider the whole way.

Spider didn't know why the cold didn't bother him. He could feel it for sure, but only as if he was a passenger in his own body, feeling without really experiencing. His heart was hammering twice its usual speed. That was the second sign from Eywa today. He didn't know how or why, but it seemed like she had heard him.

She'd heard him.

"Thank you, Great Mother," he muttered, so quietly that no one would be able to hear, even Quaritch, who was stood on the perimeter of the tree, staring at Spider as if he was finally learning to See.

[bloodyodyssey]

its way past time i stop messing with this so basic sheet on my limbus oc Antigone. Im gonna put like everything under the cut bc im gonna ramble lol:

Basic info:

Name: Antigone

Age: ??? im thinking early-mid 30′s for rn

Height: 5′11

Hair color: Bown, almost a dark red color

Eye color: Gray

Character Color: Clandestine Terracotta

Appearance: Brown skinned woman with her hair shaved into a very low afro (not quite a buzz cut however). Large but sparse eyebrows and perpetually half-lidded bored looking eyes. She has one mole underneath her right eye. Other notable features are the scars on her face and neck. The first scar on her upper lip, is a result of her being born with a cleft lip and it never fully closed but it doesn’t give her any issues. Some of her gum and tooth can be seen through the gap in the scar. Another scar is located on her head, stretching from about the middle of her right temple to right above her right eyebrow. The last scar is an old burn scar that goes around her entire neck, and she often keeps this covered with a braided cord necklace and a light yellow scarf. She isn’t fond of anyone touching her neck. Antigone also wears amber colored earrings that she got from her sister, and they are the one posession she treasures most. she’s always torn between leaving them off so that they aren’t lost in battle, and keeping them on to have some form of attachment with Ismene, who she hasn’t seen in years.

Personality: Speaks in a terse-formal manner but she also enjoys small talk. Gets along well with other sinners who have a strong sense of personal justice (she adores don quixote thats her bestie) and is known to be petty and throw snide remarks at sinners who favor rules over what is right or wrong (so she butts heads with ishmael quiet a bit as well as outis.) She values life above all else and honors death, having seen so much in her own family. She doesn’t goad over her enemies when she kills them, and instead wishes them a peaceful rest and it sounds almost like a prayer to the other sinners (which many think is strange since religion is obsolete. Antigone herself isn’t really religious she just respects the cycle of life and fate almost to the point of fear but she doesn’t make this apparent)

Room: Like the other sinners her room is normal unless she is in distress. While distressed the room takes on an earthy tomb-like appearance with graves appearing in the floor. towards the back wall there is a single item- a thread spinner that is constantly feeding out red thread that joins together tattered pictures on the wall. Each picture is a photo of her family, from her mother and father, pictures of her brother, and a photograph of her and ismene.

Still working out some stuff while i go through the other games but her family maintained a prestigious company in one of the other nests (not large enough to be a wing per-se but still up there). Stuff happens and she’s banned from the nest she was raised in to the backstreets. She ends up taking the exam to become a fixer since she no longer has a support system or knows anyone in the backstreets and it would be a sure way to at least get some kind of income and support herself enough to at least eat and joins an office. She only ever does enough to keep afloat though, so she never rises above a grade 7.

[lemmetreatya]

Asking AOT men for Facials (x fem Reader)

Ahhh i had sm fun making this!! I’ll be posting the next part up with the other boys soon (hopefully bdjsks) but for now, enjoy! 🫶🏾❤️

contains: modern au, strong language, smut, oral sex, facials, blowjobs, hand jobs, mention of piss kink, masturbation, semi public sex, slight degradation, slight choking

Reiner

You asked him over text whilst the both of you were in the same team meeting

It was almost amusing to see him watch his phone light up and the embarrassment that painted his face once he read what your text said

now????? he’d text back in haste, not even caring that he was openly replying and not in the least trying to conceal his distraction from the head speaker, but you typed back that you’d wait until you got home (if this was any other time, that might have been a different response)

When the both of you got in, Reiner didn’t allow you to forget your promise for as soon as the front door was unlocked, he reminded you of your text

“Hey, remember when you texted me saying when we got home, you’d suck me off—”

“Rei—Look, can I at least remove my shoes from my feet first?” You easily laughed.

The man bashfully stood back, face turning red at his unveiled neediness. But you weren’t too phased, he must have been thinking about this moment all day

However, true to your promise, once you had removed your shoes and harphazadly hung your blazer onto the coat rack behind you, you got down on your knees in front of the man

Unzipping his slacks and then tugging him out of his boxers, you engulfed the man’s cock inside your mouth, warm hum at the recognisable feeling of him

Automatically, Reiner’s hands cupped at your cheeks. They were coarse, rough and slightly cold from the outside but still yet they were familiar and comforting.

If it wasn’t soft huffs of air, it was croaky I love you’s that kept spilling from the man’s mouth.

It was so evident in his voice that he was tired, and you were too, but it brought you small amenity that you could please him this way.

Bobbing your head over his length, you made sure to watch up at him so you’d be able to see when he was close. After his words started to fall off of his lips like prayers, you knew it was time.

“Baby…” he moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

You hummed, signalling you knew what he meant before releasing his cock with a pop and stroking him to completion.

Three tugs was all it took before he was coming all over your face, his whimpers minute as his orgasm ricocheted throughout his system.

You allowed the man’s semen to shower your features, enjoying the feeling of the droplets splashing your skin and the sporadic pumps through his shaft.

Reiner was clearly spent. Once he finished, he leaned back against the wall, his eyes still shut.

”God, I didn’t realise how tired I was.” He muttered more to himself. He waited a few seconds before he pushed off of the wall and attended back to you.

“Baby go clean your face so we can jump into bed.” He cooed.

With a triumphant yet equally as fatigued air about you, you stood up, using Reiner as leverage as you held onto his arm.

“I’m too tired.” You whined, face in a pout.

Reiner however couldn’t help but softly laugh down at you, the look of you pouting alongside his drying cum all over your face slightly amusing.

“We’ll wash it off together then.” He mused.

Jean

You asked him by cutting him off mid conversation when he was buzzing on about business economics — which you had absolutely no clue about (but made him sound sooooo much hotter)

“Because I’d told Martin already that if there’s any surplus product at the end of the tax year, then that can’t just be transferred over to the next, on paper it’s still a profit loss—” “I want you to come on my face.”

Frowning in slight confusion, Jean had taken your interruption as an excuse to take a sip at his still steaming PSL. He smacked his lips together before giving you an answer.

“What, like, give you a facial?”

“Yeah.”

The man looked around for about three seconds, taking another sip of his drink before standing it back down onto the table.

“Okay, sure. Toilets?” He jabbed his thumb behind him in direction of the public bathrooms.

The words had barely left his mouth before you were already out of your chair.

Sitting down on top of the closed toilet seat, you dragged Jean closer to you by a belt loop of his True Religion jeans. You unzipped and then slightly pulled down his jeans before laying your hand over his boxers. However, once your hand hovered over the lycra material, he lightly pushed it away.

“You don’t have to suck me off. This ones on me.”

With a perplexed face and your hands now resting on top of your knee caps, you looked up at the man.

“It’s not like its a chore for me to do. I’d be more than happy to blow you one.”

Still, Jean was adamant that you didn’t have to. At this point he had pulled himself out the top of his boxers, his hands gliding dryly along his shaft.

“I know babe but trust me on this one. It’ll be slay.”

Frowning even more, you corrected him.

“Jean, that’s not how you use slay—”

”Yes it is, now be quiet, open your mouth and get your boobs out.” He grunted lustfully.

Once he had said those words, you finally understood what this was about: one fantasy in exchange for another.

Obeying his commands, you shucked your off-shoulder collar over your breasts, pushing them upwards as you opened your mouth with your tongue laying flax for him to see.

With his breath already labouring at the sight of you presenting yourself to him, you could tell this was something he wanted to do for a very long time.

His strokes were becoming faster, the dryness of no issue to him as his eyes drew over your exposed body.

“Yeah. Just like that…” He breathed, eyes focused entirely on yours.

Squishing your breasts together, you looked back at him with hooded eyes, the raunchy feeling of doing this within the openesss of a public toilet, thrilling. You could already feel your nipples harden from the exposed colder air of the bathroom

It didn’t take long, but after a few more dry tugs at his cock, Jean made a strained noise before spurting his cum over your face, some of the droplets hitting your tongue.

You hummed in contentment as he continued to milk himself over you, your tongue lapping up any spillages that were accessible for it to pick up.

“You look so pretty like that.” Jean would breath out, smile wide as he couldn’t help but soak in the image of you with his cum having littered your face

whether or not you allow Jean to piss on your face right afterwards is for another story but hey if you ever wanna hear THAT one, you know who to come to🕺🏾

Levi

This guy would pretend like he’s above facials and act as if he’s beyond such a whimsical desire.

“But that doesn’t make sense. Why would you specifically ask for a facial if that’s only a byproduct of any sexual act? It defeats the whole purpose of everything if you’re just concerned about the end goal.”

Knowing however that he likes to try and always play it smart, you decided to play his game, arms folded over your chest.

“Okay, so if I asked to give you a blowjob — Which I know, and you know, you wouldn’t deny — and said for you to finish on my face rather than me swallowing, would you comply?”

The man would take this time to take a sip at his hot beverage, usually dark eyes peeping over the mug as he pretended to consider your terms.

“Possibly.” He’d mused.

Definitely, he did.

Levi would try to grunt quietly as you sucked him off, eyes innocently wide as you’d look up at him, mouth fit perfectly around him.

He’d hold a hand behind your throat, fingers dancing along your oesophagus as his palm hiked your neck in place.

“You always know what you’re fucking doing…” He’d mumble over you, his true feelings surfacing now that you had him under your jurisdiction.

You’d make an upwards hum in agreement, knowing how that always loosened him up and fastened his orgasm process.

However, upon doing that you felt his fingers tighten around your neck, the motion momentarily hiking your breath.

“Don’t get cocky with me.” He’d pry. He was always so mouthy during sex. “Gag if you have to, but stay quiet when I’m stuffing your mouth.”

Believe it or not, Levi’s vulgarity always showcased itself at these moments. Unlike to everyone else, he never used harsh or degrading words with you at any other time — even during anger. But you had talked it over with him and agreed that it was okay for him to be that tad bit rougher during sex. After all, it wasn’t his kindness that drew you to him in the first place.

Complying to his request, you no longer replied to the man in any verbal format. You continued to suck Levi’s cock, deep throating his length as best you could.

You reached a hand up to fondle at the man’s balls. Knowing how this turned him on, you listened out for the soft moans he’d normally let out. Lo and behold, he sung.

”Shit, I’m close…” He muttered, his faux personality for you slightly slipping.

Looking at him with wide eyes, you fluttered your lashes baitingly at him.

“Wan’ me to come on that pretty face of yours?” He’d chide, grin shit eating but slightly faltering as you could tell he was nearing his limit.

Even though he’d ask you a question, you know he didn’t expect you to answer. You only continued sucking until you felt him tug himself out of your mouth and squirt his seed all over your face.

The surprise of him pulling out so suddenly made you gasp in shock, resulting in his cum to spurt all over your face and some inside your mouth.

Once the man had passed his post-coital haze, his instant reaction was to apologise to you for the accidental spill.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

”No, you’re fine.” You quickly reassured, your face slightly fixing in taste of him. “Although you need to be drinking more water, Champ. This shit acidic as fuck.”

Onyankopon

Facials were the ol’ regular schmegular for you two so when you proposed this to him, he was all for it, no qualms

“Oh, yeah sure.” He said calmly, looking up from his phone. “You tryna’ do research or something?”

With a puzzled face you cocked your head over at him.

“Research?”

”Yeah, research.” He turned off his phone, his attention solely yours. “I saw it trending online that some girls were getting their boyfriends to finish on their face in order to help clear up their skin and apparently it worked.”

With a surprised look, you cocked your head in his direction.

”Uh, Sir? What kinda trends you be seeing?”

With a groan, the man picked his phone up once again to unlock it. He instantly opened up one of his SNS apps and into the bookmarked options.

“I— Nah, don’t make this weird. It was an actual thing that popped up on my feed a few days ago.” He continued to scroll. “I only follow these typa blogs to try and understand when you talk about all that skincare stuff but this was one of the things they were promoting, look.”

Showing you his phone, Onyankopon referenced you the video he was referring to. And sure enough, there there was a video of a woman who was explaining how every time her boyfriend had finished on her face, it cleared up.

With a perplexed look, you looked back at Onyankopon.

“The heck? No scientific reasoning or nothing just cumshots and vibes?”

”Just cumshots and vibes.” He’d say as he shook his head in disappointment.

Suddenly, there was a pregnant pause between the two of you. If you listened hard enough, you’d hear the cog works turning between both your ears.

“You tryna find out?” You side-eyed.

“Bet.” He replied just as quickly

The familiar feeling of having Onyankopon in your hand was comforting. As you tugged your wrists up and down, your hand stroked his length dutifully.

“I know you initially agreed to this but if you want, you could always just spunk yourself into a container and then let me apply it once you’re done.” You said seriously, your face staring straight at Onyankopon’s.

He on the other hand was trying to concentrate on more important things — like the feeling of your hands on his dick for example.

“I… I’m not gonna lie.” He croaked, head momentarily leaning back before coming to look at you again, his cheeks blowing hot air out. “That wasn’t very Sexy Mysterious of you. I think I’m going soft.” He complained, eyes filled with a mix of uncertainty.

Pudging his for forehead with your free index finger, you made the noise of a red buzzer.

“Wrong answer, Fo’head. Everything I do is Sexy Mysterious.” Your hand continued to milk at the man’s dick, the look of fed up tolerance and arousal mixing on his face.

“The way I eat, is Sexy Mysterious. The way I talk, is Sexy Mysterious. The way I take a shit, is Sexy Mysterious. The way I bounce on this dick, is Sexy Mysterious.”

By now the man had his head flung backwards in mild disinterest but once he heard your last statement, his head perked up.

“Ouh, that— That last one was very Sexy Mysterious.” His eyes practically lit up. “Yeah, that was very Sexy Mysterious indeed. The brand of Sexy Mysterious itself, the Logo!”

With a sigh, you could only look back down at his dick again as you continued to stroke it, almost as if you’d been forced to do a chore.

”I swear, Onyankopon if you don’t just cum already.”

“Gosh, I’m trying.” He whined, clearly distressed. You could only huff at him albeit endearingly.

“Okay, I’ll be quiet now so you can concentrate, yeah?”

Onyankopon muttered a small thank you as his face contorted from begrudgal to pleasure. With his eyes squeezed shut, you watched as he softly bit at his bottom lip in attempt to concentrate on orgasming.

Soon enough, as you milked him to completion, the man wordlessly came his semen over your positioned face. A guttural groan left him once he started pumping white, the warm strips painting your features.

With a gasp of delight, you instantly let go of the man’s dick and started to rub the cum into your skin. Once he’d dissipated from his climatic haze, Onyankopon couldn’t help but look on with disarray.

“For science!” You gleamed once you caught his expression.

The man could only sigh with a somewhat indifferent face, his lip slightly upturned at the corner.

“For science…” He’d muse back.

[dexlexia]

atomic gold - a vashwood fic

chapter 2/3: gold pairing: vashwood (vash x nicholas) rating: 18+ summary: Nicholas swore this was the last fight, but it was never the case. He always ended up in the projector room in the east wing of the university’s main building being patched up by Vash. Vash was a good guy, a little goofy at times. And had a habit of causing more trouble than helping, but he and Nicholas were rather close since they both became the only two members of the dying film club. tags: college au, internalized homophobia, smut, nicholas is bad at feelings, film club au, minor violence, mentions of blood, trans!vash, needle mentions, jealousy, background relationships, catholicism, slow burn, eventual smut, reference to abuse, controlling knives a/n: this fic will be updated on June 18th (today) & June 25th. read it on ao3 !

When Nicholas laid beside Vash in bed, every nerve in his body felt alive.  There was a buzz in his body as the two men laid in bed.  There was enough space between them but Nicholas could feel the heat of the blonde's body beside him. Vash's back was facing him,  he was cuddled up with the meter long cat plush he had bought himself during recovery. 

Nicholas could hear the rise and fall of Vash's chest and hum of the air conditioning unit.  He exhaled to himself and laid there on his back. He had taken some medication for the pain before he went to bed.  He was unable to sleep, he wanted to chalk it up to the pain of his face but in reality it was the feeling of the other man beside him. 

Every so often he'd look over at Vash's sleeping body.  He'd hear the small noises that the man would make,  the shuffled movements in bed as he cuddled up closer to the black cat plush. Nicholas swore to himself that Vash was probably drooling on the stuffed animal.  Nicholas held onto the cross on his neck and silently prayed to himself.  It was more to relax him, a constant in his life. Whenever he felt strong emotions he could find clarity in prayer. Usually when he got close to Vash, he would pray for strength to resist the urge to fall more into the feelings he had for  the blonde. 

Eventually Vash rolled onto his back and started to snore, indicating he was in a deep sleep. Nicholas finished his prayers and dropped his hand, it fell into Vash's. But he didn't flinch at the contact. His heart leapt into his throat however when Vash's hand curled into Nicholas'.

Nicholas swallowed, and sank into the memory foam mattress.  He gripped Vash's hand for a moment before he let go. He swore for a moment that he saw Vash smile in his sleep. 

-

The morning after was quiet, the blaring of Vash's phone alarm woke the two of them up. Nicholas' bruises were now an ugly purple. His eye was still bloodshot. Vash gave him a pair of dark sunglasses to wear while the swelling went down.  The men showered separately and ate some plain eggs and buttered toast. 

  "I'll see you later."  Vash smiled before the two departed  from the townhouse. 

Not much happened the weeks following, their routine was kept up.  Nicholas wore the sunglasses most of the time,  protecting his swollen eye from the  oppressive desert sun.  Nicholas liked the sunglasses,  a reminder of Vash wherever he went.  He stayed out of trouble for the most part,  the athletic department didn't come around. The only one who did come to the projector room was Millie and Meryl, it felt like they were coming around more and more. 

Vash was excited to see them when they came around.  Offering them space on the couch while he searched for some movies to let them borrow.  Nicholas sat in the rolling chair and watched them interact. Unless his eyes were deceiving them, Meryl seemed interested in Vash. Her gaze lingered on him, she'd tease him, pull on his ear in annoyance when he acted like an idiot. 

A new feeling rose in Nicholas' chest,  he could only pin it as jealousy.  Great another deadly sin to add to the list. First lust for your fellow man and now jealousy towards a woman. The feeling annoyed him. This was the last thing he wanted, but when he saw them together it made Nicholas want a smoke even more. 

One afternoon, he reached his boiling point and left the room with his pack of cigarettes. He ended up in the designated smoking area of the wing  and went through two smokes before he came back inside, smelling like total shit. He eventually sprayed himself down with body spray to attempt to mask the scent. 

  "I forgot how gross cigarettes smelled." Meryl remarked, pinching her nose and  trying to move the scent away from her and Millie with her hand. 

  "Aw it's not too bad." Vash remarked, "You get used to it." 

  "It's nicotine and tar, how do you still have lungs, Nicholas?" Meryl asked. 

  "Nothing beats Nicholas' iron lungs!"

Nicholas looked over at the blonde, "That word doesn't mean what you think it does." 

  "Oh!" 

Meryl laughed and punched Vash on the shoulder, "Jeez don't you ever read!"

  "I study plant biology, I don't read much else. " Vash shrugged, "I don't stay up past closing time at the library to go through all the new books. Including the romance ones!"

Meryl yelled and hit Vash playfully, "I'm going to kill you, Stampede!"

Millie tried to hold the smaller woman back, "Meryl, he didn't mean it! Don't kill him!"

  "I won't actually! Not unless he makes one more comment about my reading habits!" She responded loudly. 

Nicholas chuckled to himself, but it got caught in his throat when Vash leaned out of Meryl's way. His head close to Nicholas', their eyes met and the blonde smiled. 

The room was rather cramped but more lively. The more Nicholas saw the pair interact the more he accepted that someone like Vash deserved to be with someone like Meryl. Even if they did bicker about the media, it was better than anything Nicholas could offer. So the dark haired man smiled through the pain. 

It was almost Sunday, at least he could pray about it in the proper setting by then.  That was his goal until  Vash brought up the idea of having a movie night in the auditorium that Sunday. Since they had the keys to the room, they could come and go as they pleased. 

  "I, uh. Got church that morning, you can go on without me." Nicholas waved it off. 

  "No way! It's not the same watching a movie without you! It's like donuts without the powdered sugar on top, or filled with jam. Then it's just fried dough and that's less fun!" Vash explained, "We'll move it to another day then." He bumped elbows with the other man. 

Nicholas felt his ears go red at the remark. Did he really bring something to Vash's life? He wasn't just some guy who happened to be the only other member of the same club? He had stopped telling Vash to not touch him,  at this point he accepted the affection. He was going to do what all Catholics do and suffer in silence. 

The movie night went well, Millie brought enough snacks to feed a club triple their size. Meryl sat between Vash and Millie, and while Nicholas sat on Vash's otherside, he was biting his inner cheek at the idea of the woman and the blonde sharing an armrest. 

Little did he know but Millie had her arm over the back of Meryl's auditorium seat. 

  "Can you pass me more gummy worms?" Meryl asked while Nicholas wasn't paying attention.

Millie said as quietly as she could, "Of course." And gave the smaller woman a small peck on the cheek, "And a little extra sugar too." 

Meryl beamed at the other woman before handing the bag. 

Their club soon doubled in size, from two to four with the two women being a frequent staple.  It was near the end of fall semester when Vash finally got his hands on the archival footage that the library was getting rid of. Nicholas didn't have much details on it, but the joy that overcame Vash at the idea of having something that no other club could ever get their hands on was enough for  Nicholas to be happy for his friend.

Vash wanted to watch it with Nicholas, just the two of them at the townhouse one night while Knives was out.  Nicholas didn't know the whereabouts of Vash's brother, but to get some time alone with the blonde meant the world to him. So he wasn't going to complain. He was curious however about the tape. 

  "Why don't you want your brother to see it?"

  "He isn't into that kind of stuff." Vash shrugged nonchalantly., "He's a huge science nerd, if it was about plasma or the human brain he'd be all over it! Plus I want to watch ti with my best friend!"

  "You told Meryl before you didn't really read up on much that wasn't botany. What makes this so special." 

Vash smiled softly, "It's part of my own history." 

They got the townhouse and  he unplugged the DVD player and hooked up the old VCR that he actually fixed up with a lot of time and effort.  It wasn't as seamless as it could be, but it played videos. So that's all that Vash could ask for. The tape was labeled, "July". Vash put it in and took a deep breath. 

The blonde got on the. couch and put the crochet blanket over top both of them.  Vash's hands worried the knit of the blanket,  he knew what was to come. This was about confronting what Vash had been running from. What had happened to him when. he was much younger. Far away from the desert college town he lived in now.  A past that he hoped Nicholas would understand. 

The footage was grainy, and old.  The firing of the Angel Arm flattened a city.  The footage was broadcasted to the world, but by the time resources came to help the people of one of the seven cities, it was too late. The societal collapse had done its damage.

Nicholas was in shock by what he saw.  When he turned to the blonde, he saw tears in his blue eyes. The sharp rise and fall of his chest.  It was like he was reliving the memory all over again.  The goofy Vash that Nicholas grew to love was replaced by someone who felt immense pain. 

  "Do you want me to-" 

  "No, keep playing it."  Vash swallowed, his voice a small whisper. 

Nicholas didn't know what else to do, so. he leaned over and wiped the tears from Vash's eyes. The dark haired man thought to himself,  was it more of a sin to love another man or to let him suffer in a time of need?  Was it possible to adjust his faith to be closer to the blonde? Would he be forgiven when his time comes? None of it really mattered as the tape played. 

Vash wrapped both arms around  Nicholas and rested his face into his shoulder.  His breathing was labored as he felt the flood of emotions wash over him. This probably wasn't the safest method to express the pain he had been carrying,  but how was one supposed to show that they were victims of a city's collapse as a young child.

  "Why are you showing me this if it's making you so upset?"

The blonde swallowed, "I never had the words to explain my life to you.  Explaining where every scar came from felt like too much for you.  So when Meryl told me about the tape, I wanted to show you so you'd understand. 

  "I'm sorry that you suffered so much., Vash. I'm sorry I couldn't make it hurt less."

Vash gave a soft  smile against Nicholas' shoulder, "You've done more than enough, Nicky."

Nicholas swallowed back his own tears, "Good to know, blondie." 

The door to the townhouse opened, revealing Knives with his bag slung over his shoulder.  The first thing. he noticed  down the hallway was the position that Vash and Nicholas were in, and the soft sounds of Vash crying.  Anger filled the blonde's chest, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Wolfwood!"

  "What?"

  "You son of a bitch, I'm going to fuck you up! Get away from my brother!"

Nicholas got up, ready to defend himself. He rolled his sleeves up, ready to fight.  But Knives wasn’t backing down. He stomped forward, got around Nicholas as to create distance between the dark haired man and Vash. 

  "I don't want trouble, Knives." Nicholas said.

  "You're making my brother cry!" Knives snapped as he backed Nicholas down the hallway, "You fucking son of a bitch! I could kill you!"

  "Knives, what the fuck!" Vash snapped as he followed behind his older brother.  He grabbed the other blonde by the arm, "He didn't make me cry!"

Knives looked over his shoulder, his eyes wild. It almost scared Vash. "This guy is going to fuck you over, just like any other guy on this campus. Nobody understands you Vash, nobody gets you and the entire world is out to get you!" 

Vash's shoulders dropped, "Not Nicholas, Knives." He shook his head, "I'm pretty sure Nicholas is not in a long haul to chop up my body and throw it in the woods. Nicholas is not Steve, it's not going to happen again!"

Nicholas' chest was pounding,  his breathing heavy. Who the fuck was Steve? 

Knives clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Vash, please. Let me hurt him before he hurts you.  Guys are like this, you don't realize it! I can protect you, not this stupid loser. Even if he isn't a serial killer, what if he hurts you in other ways? What if I come home and I find that he's hurt you? Anything could happen! You have to  listen to me, Vash." 

Vash dropped his shoulders, "You're overreacting, Knives. You've been my shadow since the minute we were born.  I'm going to be hurt, that's part of life." 

  "Not in the way you've been hurt before." 

  "Knives, not every guy on planet earth sees me as a target."

  "You're vulnerable." 

  "Not with Nicholas." 

Knives turned to Vash, "I need to protect you. Because you don't know any better. You're a doormat at times, Vash. You're too trusting." 

Vash clenched his jaw, "I'm not, Knives. You still see me as  a scared girl. '' Tears welled in his eyes, "Nicholas isn't like that,  he isn't like the families we lived with. " He gestured to his body, "You can check me all over, Nicholas has not laid a hand on me.  I wasn't crying because of him,  I.. I got footage from July 21st.  The school was getting rid of it. I wanted to watch it with Nicholas because I wanted to feel safe." He swallowed and rubbed his eyes, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood makes me feel safe." His gaze met his twin brother's.

Knives exhaled deeply, "It's going to happen again. All guys are like this. "

Vash reached out and held onto his brother's shoulder, "Then that's the pain I live with.  We're the same age, Knives. If you're an adult, so am I." He gripped his brother's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. He soon let go after a brief moment and  walked past him to get to Nicholas who was still by the door.  He wrapped his arms around the other man, "You know I've been in love with him since first year. "

The declaration  of Vash's affection for Nicholas made the dark haired man freeze.  He reached to the blonde and held onto him. The urge to beat the shit out of Knives faded away. His eyes reminded on Knives as he said, "I don't want to hurt your brother,  I swear I'm not in a weird long haul to fuck him over.  I think I see what I want now, and I want your brother. I want to be there for him, I want to protect him just as much. as you do. So let's not beat each other within an inch of our lives?"

Knives dropped his shoulders, "Do you swear on your life Nicholas?" 

   "Yes, I swear on everything." 

The blonde looked to his brother, "I'm not happy about this, but you're right." He pinched the bridge of his nose once more, "You're an adult. But if he hurts you, I will kill him. And I won't regret it for a second." 

Vash looked to his brother, "I assure you he won't." He looked to the dark haired man, "Unless he doesn't want me." 

Nicholas smiled at the blonde, "I want you." He swallowed, the words felt heavy in his mouth. He cupped the back of Vash's head and pressed his forehead against his, "Yeah, I want you."

Knives had no choice but to sigh at the display. He was weary about Nicholas, but it had been almost four years. He'd have to accept that the man was going to be in Vash's life for a lot longer now. He turned and waved behind his head, "Just don't have sex on the couch, alright?"

  "Knives!" Vash yelped. 

-

Since then things had felt good, great even! Vash was a welcomed invader into Nicholas' personal space. The blonde loved his kisses, his hand holding and his cuddling. He said it was everything he ever wanted since first year. Nicholas still felt the pang of Catholic guilt, but the way Vash looked at him. Like he had hung every star in the sky in the evening and brought up the sun just for him in the morning. 

Nicholas eventually realized that Merly wasn't hitting on Vash. She was in fact in a relationship with Millie and had zero interest in men. Vash explained, "Oh yeah, she sees me as a guy! So therefore she's not interested in me one bit. Plus I'm more interested in you to ever be interested in her!" Then gave him a huge smile. 

Fallsemester finally ended, and the break between the holidays was much needed. Nicholas found that since the fight he had a few months prior, he hadn't been in the mood to be punched around any further. He had to keep his head on his head if he was going to be with Vash, maybe the blonde's pacifism was rubbing off on him. 

The two walked down the hall holding hands, Vash leaned over and kissed Nicholas on the cheek. A few girls in the hall giggled, and Nicholas shot them a look.  Nicholas missed Vash when he wasn't on campus, but he'd eventually wind up back at the townhouse after class and sharing an early dinner with Vash. A lot of cheeseburger pasta, his excuse was that it was 'their' food, what they made together around the time they got together. Nicholas was still worried about Vash though, seeing him breakdown the night they started dating. He knew that Vash had the tape, but the blonde assured that he wasn't torturing himself by playing the tape on repeat. 

Nicholas kept the conversation open about wanting to talk about their past, but Vash just smiled at him. A smile that worried Nicholas, but he couldn't force the man to dump his past on him. So instead he showed him a brighter future.  One where he was loved. 

At the end of a long week, Nicholas kicked off his shoes and crawled into the bed with Vash. He wrapped his arms around the blonde and kissed him on the top of the head. He felt their connection as they cuddled. Vash took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.  Nicholas rubbed his back.

  "You're my world, Nicky." Vash said. 

  "Same to you, blondie. You're all I ever wanted." 

With time Vash's love broke down the guilt, not like a wrecking ball but like snow in spring. Melting it away until it came back to the earth. If he was going to hell for the sin of loving the blonde, then he hoped that he could spend every moment in damnation beside the blonde.  But he was beginning to believe it was a worse sin to lie to the people around him, especially to Vash. 

The weight of guilt was nothing compared to the euphoria of loving him. 

Knives slowly came around, he was civil more than anything. The two still didn't like each other but put it aside for the sake of Vash. The blonde didn't look like he was going to kill Nicholas anymore. Rather he gave him a blank expression and a curt nod. It was all Nichola could ask for in honesty. Knives did however roll his eyes when he saw the pair cuddling on the couch. 

  "Still not your biggest fan, Wolfwood." Knives said while the two were standing outside the townhouse in the middle of the night smoking. 

  "Didn't expect to be." 

  "Remember-"

  "I know, Knives. You have a whole army of fangirls at the school who would be more than happy to hide my body in the middle of the desert." Nicholas exhaled, letting the smoke partially cloud his vision.

Knives turned to Nicholas, "I'm glad we're on the same page then." And gave him probably his least forced smile. There was something predatory about it. The dark haired man swallowed. The things you do for love, he thought. 

But as the new year rang in at a small party in the townhouse. Nicholas pressed his lips against Vash's. His strong arms wrapped around the beanpole man. Their forehead eventually pressed together.  Vash was the sun, Nicholas was the moon. Complementary and always longing for one another. Nicholas gave another small kiss on the blonde's face. His head screamed for a need to be loved by Vash till the end of his days. And he'd do everything in his power to make that happen. 

  "I love you." 

  "I love you too, blondie."

[enjomo-arch]

(  flame  command  ━━  unprompted  :  monkey d. luffy  )   //    [  ♠ @goreburdened  ]

"ace, when did you get so tall?!" luffy crowds his brother, clinging to both of the freckled brunet's knees. his straw hat keeps flopping in his eyes & he fusses over it, not wanting to obscure his vision as luffy peers up at ace with his now reverted back baby face. he looks at ace like he hung the sun, child-esque excitement palpable in the air. "I wanna be taller than you when I'm older!" he insists with a pout.

ace  stood  as  if  he  had  been  glued  into  the  ground.  his  big  brown  eyes  growing  even  more  the  longer  he  watched  the  wandering  kid  around  his  legs.  his  eyebrows  raised  and  breath  stuck  within  his  throat  when  the  little  guy  hugged  his  knees,  which  he  could  barely  reach  with  his  own  height.  the  fire  fist  was  like  frozen  in  time  for  a  moment,  before  redness  began  spreading  over  his  face  from  the  buzzing  excitement  boiling  like  hot  blood  in  his  veins.  ace  exploded  like  a  bomb  in  a  second.  reaching  immediately  for  his  little  brother,  hands  hooking  under  the  boy's  armpits  to  raise  him  high  as  a  gigantic  grin  spread  over  ace's  freckled  features.  

❝  luffy,  luffy,  luffy  !  ❞  

the  pirate  chanted  like  a  prayer.  may  the  sea  god  help  him  before  he  collapsed  here  from  the  incredible  joy  he  felt.  he  hugged  the  little  brother  to  his  chest,  strong  arms  tightly  holding  him  as  ace  almost  squeezed  the  living  crap  out  of  him  as  if  luffy  was  a  mere  plushie  to  him.  ❝  you're  so  cute  holy  shit  luffy.  my  little  lovely  brother  !!!  ❞  if  ace  hadn't  been  so  busy  dying  from  the  cuteness,  he  would  have  swear  he  started  to  feel  tears  picking  on  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  he  was  this  close  to  start  sobbing  from  how  adorable  luffy  is.  ❝  you  gonna  grow  up  to  be  the  tallest  pirate,  believe  me  !  ❞  the  fire  fist  squeezed  him  tighter  in  his  bicep,  almost  cutting  off  his  little  brother's  air  to  breathe. he didn't ask questions, not when his mind was blown away with how cute his brother is.

[luvsicksubs]

 ꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

sweethearts - bakugo katsuki 

wc: 1.6k 

cw: pegging / anal fingering, degradation, dacryphilia, sub!space, dom!reader (afab but i dont think there’s anything gendered?), using the word cunt for bakugo,  pro-hero!bakugo, and a lot of super fluffy aftercare at the end. 

“Y-you’re so — hic — so fuckin’ mean,” 

Your laugh is warm - too warm for something like this. With Bakugos face pressed firmly into your shoulder, strong arms wrapped around your neck - your laughter feels cruel. It sounds sweet but Bakugo knows better than to fall for it - aware of the irony in his words as your hands grip the meat of his thighs. Your fingers are bruising as they hold onto the muscle, legs lifted and wrapped your back with his calves twitching and trembling. 

You’re trying to hold in your amusement - refocusing your eyes on Bakugo in this state. Your favorite pro-hero’s expression, normally so stoic and cold now broken. Skin flushed red from the tips of his ears down to his chest - warmth running down his back in waves. He’s sobbing poor thing, nails scratching up your back without remorse.  

In an effort to get him to show some submission, you pull out full-stop. Bakugo gasps at the emptiness, whimpering as your heavy eyes watch his hole tremble. So pretty and so desperate, the feeling of hot plastic is replaced with strong hands - angular and plunging. You lay him on his back and lean back yourself, your fingers teasing and prodding the sensitive ring of muscle. It’s sore, red and puckered from exhaustion - stretches all too easily around your thin fingers. 

But it’s more precise this way, Bakugo realizes in half-terror and half-lust - eyes flickering down to your middle and and ring fingering scissoring him open. Not a tight fit by any means but Bakugo clamps down on you anyway. You laugh at him, can’t help yourself as your hand presses down on his belly. 

“You’re so mouthy, aren’tcha brat?,” you tease, pressing a kiss to the calf at your face, resting your cheek on it as you position Bakugos hips up using a pillow. His cock weeps pathetically onto the muscle of his stomach, red and burning and aching. Everything in him feels warn out and he can’t do anything but sob - not a thought running through his mind other than missing having you inside. 

“So damn disobedient but this always shuts you right the fuck up, doesn’t it baby?,” and the question is rhetorical - always is. Your fingers are angled directly at his prostate so perfectly, practically milking the orgasms out of his body with only one hand. Everything is too much. 

“Too much - ‘s too much, fuck,”  

He’s thrashing, arms desperately clawing into the sheets for life as you easily work another orgasm out of him like this. He’s lost count, doesn’t even care to know as he feels your other hand simply brush against his sore cock. He can’t breath, half choking out a sob as his body floods to weakly spurt out a thin stream of cum, if you could even call it that. 

“See? Didn’t talk back even one time right there, did you?,” and your hands, cruel as ever - draw a line in the cum that coats his stomach and the sheets. He shivers, eyes welling up with tears of shame.  

“This is the only way pretty boys like you know how to cum right?,” you ask, hand landing on his and leaving another familiar print in your wake. The pain jolts him awake, makes him drool. 

“Like your body was made for me to fuck ‘n use like a little toy, right Katsuki? Pretty little hole you got is begging to get fucked all over again,” 

“I don’ like it, swear I don’t, swear  — fuck,” 

You grin - so much spitfire in your sweet brat. You take pleasure in pulling your fingers out and thrusting them right back in, massaging his g-spot with intensity in your gaze. His eyes shoot open, frantically searching for your face in pure need before seeing your feral expression and swallowing. 

“Liar. You love it when I use you.  So pretty and perfect like this,” 

You lean up, the weight of your body pressed against his - lubed plastic cock grinding hard against his own. He bites his lip hard enough for it to swell moments after, arms desperately coming around your body for support as he loses strength. Fuckfuckfuck. 

“Tell me you love it - tell me how much you love when I ruin this pretty lil cunt baby,” 

Bakugo swallows a heavy breath as his body tightens up. Your hands feel good but it’s not enough, he knows he needs more. His body trembles, throat hoarse as he sobs and sniffles into your chest. Bruises and hickies blooming all over his skin create a hazy buzz in his head as panicked eyes find yours - gasping as he desperately tries to find his voice. A hand wrapped around his throat has him shaking violently. 

“I love it — hic — fuck.. fuck me already,” he chokes out the words between sobs, fat tears sliding down his face and onto the sheets as his hands lock around your shoulders - desperately searching for reprieve. His ass is grinding against the strap even more eagerly than before, cock almost limp and making a wet noise as it moves against his belly. 

The tip of your cock presses right against his hole, and you grin. A hand around his throat, another pressed on his stomach - you lean low. Teeth catching his ear lobe, you whisper. 

“Say please, Katsuki.” 

“Fuck, please!,” 

Like something had been triggered in you, you immediately pull-back and slam back in one fluid motion. Bakugo cries out - moans so brokenly in a silent scream as you set a violent pace. He uses his hands to hold his legs up, afraid of what’ll happen if he doesn’t as you jackhammer him into the bed. The mattress ricochets off your every movement - headboard banging loudly against the walls. But Bakugo’s voice is louder, lewd and desperately croaking about how fucking good it all feels. His cock stands to attention again - and the pleasure drowns out the blurry pains of overstimulation like a drug. You grit your teeth as the friction of the strap grinds against your clit. 

Your hand pumps Bakugo’s cock furiously as you fuck him, and Bakugo has given up on doing anything but repeating your name like a prayer. His incantations send shivers up your spine as you grunt into his ear - your own orgasm mere seconds away. 

“One more yeah? Give me one fuckin’ more - be a good little cumslut for me and give me one more baby,” 

“Oh, god,” 

Almost in tandem, you reach your orgasm only seconds after your boyfriend reaches his. You nearly choke at how hard you cum, lungs burning as pleasure curls through your body and you’re groaning into neck. Panting desperately, you lift your head-up to meet Bakugos with a soft smile

You kiss his jaw softly, smiling. 

“You did so well baby,” you hum against his throat, brushing his hair back. 

“Let’s get you fixed up,” 

__

[ after-care ] 

You would argue this is the best part. After fucking the daylights out of your bratty boyfriend - he’s half-way there as you kiss and massage his body. He’s pliant, dizzy - somewhat gaining his consciousness. He can only half-find it in himself to argue with you as you take care of him. He succumbs to your touch and silently plants himself in your lap or otherwise as you do. In the bath, he spent ample time having you hold him and scratch his scalp as you wash it. 

When he wanted kisses, he simply looks up at you - vermilion eyes catching light as you laugh lightly and kiss whatevers closest. He only closes his eyes against when he’s satisfied with it. The warm water helps him feel steady, relaxing into the water. 

You dry his hair off in the bathroom before transpiring back to your bedroom - where Bakugo curls up exhaustedly in the corner as you fix up the sheets and get him to lay down. 

You talk idly as you rub lotion down his body - watching his eyes flutter close. Your hands go over all the marks, bruises, bites and scratches with soft kisses before paying special attention to them. For the first time since you’ve finished, you get a sentence out of him. 

“You’re a demon,” he slurrs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh, you hands squeezing his pecks before bending down to kiss him. A glass of water by the bed-side prompts him to sit up and drink before leaning against the frame. 

“Nice to see you, baby,” you joke. You grown serious just as fast, sitting between his legs with his face in your hands - observing him. 

“How do you feel, angel?,” 

His eyes flutter open - sleepy and full of vulnerable adoration. You’ve fucked the fight out of him, literally so he’s in no place to deny your affection. He yawns. 

“‘s fine, stupid. ‘m okay. Are you?,” 

Your heart flutters. Sometimes he reminds you in little ways like this that this goes both ways. You nod, hold one of his hands in yours. 

“I’m fine. Worried I was too rough on you, or too mean,” 

He scoffs, almost offended. 

“Who’dya take me for,” comes his reply. You laugh, softly placing his forehead against his - shrugging. 

“Right, right,” you hum, leaning forward to kiss him deep and slow. Everything is still, slow and perfect. He opens his eyes, overcome by his own emotions and hugs you tiredly. 

“Love you, dumbass,” he chokes. You yawn as he clings to you, kissing the crown of his head. 

“I love you too, Katsuki,” 

 ꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

[mochikeiji]

Kinktober Day 7: Baby in Pink

↠ Pairing: Suna Rintarou x Reader

↠ Warning: SMUT! Cry baby reader, Ballerina AU, fingering, cunnilingus, ahegao faces because he's THAT good, riding, creampie, Suna being soft but meanie dom.

↬ Word Count: 3k

⇢ Day 7: Manhandled (Riding)

Everything felt so magical; elegant.  The way you were on pointe made him suck in a breath to every performance he has witnessed from you. Even if he's seen them many, many times in repeat, you were as graceful as a butterfly, as taunting as a little fairy in baby pink. To see how effortlessly you were lifted by your partner during daring performances made him clench his fists of how close those pesky fingers of a stranger were to parts only he was allowed, yet his mind in wonder of how easily handled you were in stage.

How easily you were being handled in so many ways corrupted delicious, arousing day dreams in his calm features, but buzzing head.

He's never been vocal about it, but he adores how tight your ballet clothing were. He especially loved the camisole leotard dress; each time you wore them, he catches a glimpse of your perfectly shaped bottom from the flowy, see through clothing.  Thanking the dark, and captured audience to the people on stage and not notice the growing bulge in his pants and his harsh breathing through his nose. The baby pink tone of your attire made you glow of innocence and cuteness he so wants to carry you out and throw you to his bed to snuggle you away from the eyes of the world.

To take your dainty, little self in the cold sheets with the baby pink article of clothing ruined by yours and his cum splattering messily.

The times your eyes would get caught with his pretty ones after your search for him in the sea of the crowd, you would smile brightly st him, eyes forming the adorable crescents he recognizes even from afar. The former, emotionless middle blocker would be in love struck, as if Cupid had shot multiple arrows to his heart just by your glowing form.

You were so precious. His little ballerina.

And he was your prince. Big and strong, beautiful in every way, fit from his previous and present time in volleyball, too good for anyone in this world. He was yours.

"R-rin.."

Too good.

Too good enough for you to be trembling, and just by grinding yourself on his flexed thigh. He couldn't hold back anymore after seeing you present yourself with your new outfit. It was still the same color, but the fabric was thinner than usual, either it was to make your movements more easier or it was just to test his patience. The length of the flowy skirt had been shortened with your legs no longer covered, naked and soft looking, the chest area emphasized your bust too much for his liking.

Oh, you were so delectable.

He groans your name when he felt your juices seep out from your clothed pussy. It was almost as if you weren't even covered well with it. Big, rough hands at the sides of your hips, guiding your shy movements against his thigh to bring you to your awaited heaven. You whimper when he dug his fingers onto the skin, the sounds you were making muffled on his shoulder only making it hard for him to tame himself. Having enough of it, he easily hoisted you up from his thigh and settles you down in bed. God, did he love having a place all to himself with you in it. He gets to do whatever he pleases.

"Pretty."

It came out like a harsh whisper from his lips as he stares at the damped spot of your center. The skirt pushed up and your legs spread out for him, he gets a little closer in between them and drags his digits down your clothed slit. Eyes immediately gazing up to see you biting your fist and your legs quivering in sensitivity. He hums in delight and began pressing in his index on the slick clothing, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your clit, relishing the sounds of your soft moans and his name being chanted like a prayer.

"Shit, baby."

Cursing he pushes the leotard to the side, inserting two of his digits in and curls them quickly, wanting to see and hear your squeals as your grabbed his wrist and propped yourself up pathetically with your elbow.

"W-wait, sensitive.."

Glossy eyes meeting with his blank, but lust clouded ones. He'd take mercy whenever you would warn him at times like this, afraid he might've hurt you in the process, but this, you weren't hurt or anything. You were just being his little cry baby. Instead of listening to your plead and your small hands tightening around his wrist weakly retraining him, he pulls his fingers out slowly, licking his lips at the sight of the transparent, coated digits before plunging back in roughly. You sobbed as your body gave out and laid back down, with his other hand pressing down your stomach, he delivers precise piston of his fingers inside you. He knew you can take it. You can, and you will.

"Rin!! A-ah, Tarou..please.."

Legs trying to slowly shut with his head still in between, he hums in approval before getting a taste of your sopping cunt and lapping his tongue up to your clit. He loved getting crushed with your thighs, they were so soft and jiggly when they shook. It boosted his own ego to have them at that state because of his meek minitrations. What more can he get from you when he snaps?

He suckles on the bundle of nerves, your toes curls as your hips arched up, eagerly grinding to his mouth while pleading for him to stop since his fingers were reaching too deep into the right places inside. Suna was in his own euphoria, never really pegged himself as a man who would get drunk into the taste of you and a man who has his dick prodded up to the air just by seeing you in such princess-like clothing. Writhing beneath him, you lowered your hand down to his hair, tugging the long, luscious brown locks of his as he won't let go of the erected nub, slurping and nibbling at it like a pro.

His own arousal begging to be freed from his black slack, the infuriating fabric getting compacted uncomfortably, making his cock ache painfully. Removing his hand from your stomach, he unbuckled the belt off of his trousers swiftly, shrugging them down and kicking them off with his legs and feet, finally releasing your nub with a pop and mercy left for you.

Your legs automatically closed themselves to soothe the sensitive regions. Gripping the pillow on the side of your head as your clouded eyes gaze elsewhere into a short subspace, panting with small drool slipping from the corner of your lips. Suna sees this and gets up from the floor to hover over you. He shouldn't be so rough; shouldn't take advantage of this state you are in, not when your such in full daze of your own world, not when you looked already so fucked out when he hasn't gotten to the good part.

"You okay?"

The tip of his nose nudges your cheek softly, like a cat, he nuzzles himself on your flushed skin. It was out of character for him to display such affection, but over the years of being with you, oh how his heart softened and crumbles at the mere presence of you. He peppers your cheeks with little kisses, swiping away the drool with his thumb, murmuring praises and love confessions to you.

"You're cute."

"I'm here, baby."

"Mmm.. You're still dripping."

His voice made you dizzy, strum like a string of tantalizing melody as you inhaled his musky scent that made you dig your nose at the crook of his neck. Whimpering a little when you felt something slide outside your folds, warm and hard, Suna grunts and pants out small puffs of air onto your ear. You were so slick and wet that it was tempting to just dick you down right now. But you were his little baby, he had to take care of you first. He wouldn't want to hurt you.

"Will you let me take care of you?"

Your blown pupils lost the clouds that has surrounded them as you moaned out, his teeth sinking in the tender flesh by your neck with your hips jolting up, meeting with his twitching cock. Hands flying to clutch onto his shoulders, you wished you had kept your legs closed as now your flower was being teased to death. Suna groans when he feels you twitch a little, how adorable, he thoughts.

"Well?"

He bites on your lower lip, tugging it whilst keeping the eye contact with you, like he was ravishing you with his pretty eyes as sweat slid down to your face.

"I'm waiting."

He grabs a hold of his cock, you expected he was going to pump a few jets, but instead he began slapping it against your weeping cunt. Squealing at the sound of wet skin slapping and the small waves of pleasure kicking in, you whined beneath him when he chuckles darkly, looking up to him with puppy like eyes.

"Rin, please.."

He stops, leaning forward so that his forehead was pressing to yours, exhaling out softly when he felt himself release a few pre cum jets out from his cock.

"Please what?"

Even though he was getting as needy as you were, he was still Suna Rintarou, a guy who loves to be in control and manipulate what he can. Loves to endlessly put you on edge to have your small hands scratching his skin, your body trapped from his bigger structure. He was addicted.

Frustrated, tears glossed over your eyes with some slipping down a little. You would've screamed at him for being a big meanie, but now you were stuck pouting and crying when you felt him rut against you once more.

"Please!! Need your cock, Rintarou!!"

As those words escaped your plumped lips, Suna cages you in his arms and quickly switches positions with you in a blink of an eye. Confusion written all over your features as you gasped a little when you were now laying on his chest, Suna adjusting his head on the pillow, enough to see you shaking above him and gives your ass a soft smack, rubbing the soft, globe flesh and squishing it with his hand. Your leotard still pushed to the side, allowing his finger to tease the slit up and down, watching you start to lose yourself above him and push back, hoping to get more friction.

"You said you wanted my cock, right baby?"

You couldn't make out what he was saying, too busy rubbing against the knuckle of his index, clawing his chest to ground yourself. The veins in his arms and hands were noticeable, you can really tell he had been keeping himself together. With you above him, arms pressed to your chest, letting your tits be a show for him, hair fanning your features like some kind of princess as the uniform you were now wearing stuck to your skin from the sweat that had built up. Good thing you had spare ones.

Lining himself up to your cunt, he removes his hand away from you as you cried from the lost. Both of his hands found their way back to your bottom, lifting you up with is before slamming you down to his hard cock with a loud moan erupting from his chest and you left with wide eyes and mouth agape.

"Take it, little girl."

The sudden thrust of his cock stung, but it didn't hurt much. No, it made you shocked, panting as if you were in some sort of heat, tongue sticking out at the feeling of his dick stretching you deliciously, the length and thickness making you feel so stuffed. He felt so deeper in this position, you couldn't move. You felt that if you were to try and thrust up and down, you would break. It was all too much.

Suna felt the same way. His head burnt, spinning like a spell was cast upon him when he was engulfed by the warmth of your cunny. Fuck, your walls kept fluttering and tightening around his cock. Every muscle on his body was flexed as he breathed heavily. You were so heavenly right now, he could cum on the spot inside of you.

"R-rin...So big.."

Covering your mouth with your hands, you tried raising your hips up a little, the lewd friction creating a pleasurable wave to your spine as you sunk down immediately, choking out a moan behind your palms and crying. You couldn't move.

Suna licked his lips at the sight before prying your hands away from your mouth and sitting up against the headboard of the bed, pushing you from the small of your back to his chest closer, his hands roaming around your hot, flushed body and cupping your breast through the fabric. Before you knew it, you squealed loudly when you heard a ripping sound from the chest area.

He had finally ruined the skimpy camisole leotard from you, letting your breast free with his face nuzzling into them and taking a nipple in his mouth. His hands went back to your hips, finally guiding you to a slow rhythm as he thrusts back carefully. Moaning softly, you cradled his head in your arms while he suckles on your nipples. Relishing the soft, yet deep thrusts given to you as each second passes.

"Y-you a-ah..Had to r-rip it, o-oh my—"

Tugging his hair from his roots when he moved to the other breast and bit harshly. He tugged the nippled with his teeth softly before lapping his tongue to soothe away the sting.

"You have spare ones. Besides,"

Pushing away from you, his eyes raked to your entirely new look. The ripped fabric hanging loosely with your breast on display, your cunt being stuffed full with his cock, you and your entire form within his control.

"You look so precious right now."

He delivers one hard thrust that made you fall to his chest, only then do you realize that you were not the one moving, but him all along. His pace quickens, the moans and cries from you onlt fueling him more. Suna shuts his eyes as his senses heightened by you.

"U-unf, hah— I'm sorry!!"

Your tears falling to his chest made him shiver and worry, he tried slowing doen his pace, but he feels your hips move around cutely trying to meet with his movements.

"I-I'm sorry, R-in...Ah— I couldn't mo-move!"

You were apologizing just because you couldn't give him the exact treatment and pleasure he was giving you. Normally, guilt would eat you out at this second, but you were far more succumbed by feeling stuffed, the thought of him cumming inside you blocked all other thoughts away. Precious, absolutely precious.

His hand cupped your cheek, giving it a small pinch of adoration and wiping away the tears that had still been falling from receiving his cock.

"It's okay, let me handle you, sweetheart."

Screaming, he began ramming himself inside of you. It burned, it burned so good it hurts, like your insides were being rearranged. His balls smacking up to your ass that was shaking and being squeezed and slapped by Suna's other hand in repeat. You could only stick your tongue out as you tried to make a sound, but it was all too good all that was left is you sobbing dumbly on his chest with Suna grunting and whispering praises beneath you.

"S-so fucking tight.. God, princess, I feel like ah— 'm gonna break you."

Petting your hair, he doesn't stop his pace. They weren't lying when they said this man uses his entire body to use. Was he so strong and flexible to be able to do this to you. Your balled fist went to grab his hand from your hair, lacing your fingers with his and held his hand, weakly raising your head up.

"A-ah, ah, inside.. Please.. Rin, 'm g-gonna break.. need you. Ngh!! INSIDE!!"

Your voice came out louder at the end when his tip reaches your spot. Moans turning into those you'd hear in pornography feeling your cunt get abused.

"Shit—"

He looked so nefarious; head thrown back, his mouth opening and closing, trying to silent out his own moans to his embarrassment and his hand holding yours tightly. He was to drool for, a real life incubus.

"I-I'm cumming..fuck, take it, baby."

"R-RINTAROU!! N-NO, NO MORE HAH— SLOW DOWN! R-RIN!!"

"SHIT, (Y/N)—"

Your cunt convulsed around his pulsing cock. The rush of adrenaline wrapping themselves to every fiber of your bones as you sobbed loudly, feeling yourself cream for what it's worth around his cock, his own hot, load shooting inside your womb, holding his breath as both your hands gripped each other with toes curling.

"F-fuck, you okay?"

Finishing the last drop, he doesn't pull out immediately. Not wanting to suddenly knock out some oxygen from you, he gives the crown of your head kisses with his thumb stroking the back of your hand. You puffed out breathy pants, body tired and throat scratchy from what happened seconds ago. The redness of your cheeks and the baby hairs the stuck to your forehead made you look so adorable to his eyes, that he leaned forward to kiss your temple.

"T-thank you, Rin...Love you so much."

He can make out the small hearts in your dazed eyes, mewling softly when he accidentally thrusts in while moving his position. Your eyes scrunched up closed, burying yourself on his chest with a small voice,

"Sensitive.."

"I know."

His other arm wrapped around you tightened, rubbing his cheek on your head affectionately. He loved moments like this in doors, just you, him, your bodies as one together in bed. His beautiful, little ballerina in his arms with the soft, baby pink and look on her features and body. It made him smile secretly from you.

"I love you too, my ballerina."

And he began moving again inside of you.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Calling Out For Her

Cassandra Dimitrescu x She/Her Reader

A/N: Cassandra is my favorite I just love that girl. I thought it was real neat that Lady D could just call out for her and she’d appear so that inspired this. Some typical resident evil violence and language in here and Cassandra isn’t exactly nice at first, but she figures out how to be personable...kinda. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 6,158

(Y/n) was exceptionally careful. If tasked to understand what had allowed her to survive in the castle for so long, she would say it was because she was so careful, meticulous, with her work. All she had to do was follow a certain set of rules.

A polite tone brimming with reverence, ‘Yes Lady Dimitrescu’ or, ‘yes ladies Bela, Cassandra and Daniela’. Never a no, even if warranted, unless you want your eyes level with your toes and cool air meeting your stump of a neck. Always serve with a curtsy, never meet their eyes, never ask questions, keep your head down and clean, clean, clean like your life depends on it because like with everything else, it does.

The bottom line was that (Y/n) knew how to survive in the castle of Dimitrescu. It took tact, forward thinking, and a bit of luck. But today, after a very respectable nine months of service, (Y/n)’s luck had apparently run out. She had royally fucked up.

“Oh, fuck me—!“ (Y/n) hissed, followed by a sharp gasp as her grip slipped because of the dip of the chandelier.

She had no one to blame but herself. She had been assigned to clean the banisters and chandeliers of the foyer and had leaned out just a little too far with her duster. Thus, her scramble for purchase on the confounding light fixture to save her from cracking her skull on the marble floor below.

“H...help!” (Y/n) called, barely above her usual speaking tone. She dared not speak louder for fear of alerting any of the bloodthirsty daughters of her predicament. She could only hope one of her fellow maids was working nearby.

“No, nonono—“ the words left (Y/n)’s  mouth faster than her lips could move. One of the metal weldings that held up the chandelier was creaking and becoming dangerously loose as time ticked by.

“Help!” (Y/n) called a little louder, the desperation bleeding into her tone as her fingers dug painfully into the decorative, jewel encrusted rim of the chandelier.

Yet still not a sound besides the creak of old metal giving way. Nine months of service to the Lady of the Castle and this was never how (Y/n) imagined she’d go. It wasn’t uncommon for some maids to take their life by their own hand, but (Y/n) wanted to keep fighting—!

“Ah!” (Y/n) cried sharply. The chandelier’s tether frayed a bit further, causing it to drop a few inches. She was fully panicking now, arms aching and chest heaving as she dangled. She made the mistake of looking at the cold, hard floor below and that only made her heart beat faster. She didn’t want to go out like this!

The chandelier fell another inch, stinging (Y/n)’s fingers. She was gripping so hard she was sure her fingers must have been bleeding. She needed someone, anyone to come and somehow in her panicked state, she thought of her Lady. If her Lady needed something done and done fast, all she had to do was call out her name and she would be there in an instant. Somehow in (Y/n)’s desperate mind, she thought that calling upon the most ruthless of the Dimitrescu Family was her best course of action.

“Cassandra!” (Y/n) yelled, closing her eyes tightly and fighting to maintain her precarious grip.

For a few seconds, there was just the creaking the chandelier and (Y/n) didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated by the silence. Before she could resign herself to her fate, a faint buzzing could be heard below, growing in intensity until (Y/n) could see the swarm of blowflies collecting below her until they completely formed the middle Dimitrescu daughter. She looked up at (Y/n) with a sneer on her blood stained lips.

“Well, well, well. I must say that this is a first for me.” Cassandra hummed, a fist over her hip as she craned her head up, twisting this way and that to really get a good look. Yes, a maid hanging from a chandelier must have been a novelty to the monstrous woman indeed.

“Just how did you get into this predicament little mouse? Perhaps you are more of a monkey, hmm?” Cassandra giggled sadistically before idly licking the blood from her lips, smearing it around more than anything.

“I leaned too far over the banister while I was dusting.” (Y/n) explained through clenched teeth, trying to maintain her aching grip.

“Mmm, how clumsy of you.” Cassandra laughed again, moving her arms to rest across her chest, she propped her chin up in her gloved hand as she regarded (Y/n) with glee. “You know, I was going to skin you alive. You had called me away from cellar time after all, new arrivals are always the most fun to break. Not to mention that you, some lowly maid, think that I, a noblewoman of the House, am at your beck and call. Yes, I was going to kill you myself but now I’m curious,” Cassandra’s smirk widened to a full blown maniacal grin, “what will give out first? Your arms, or the chandelier?”

“Lady Cassandra, please!” (Y/n) wasn’t sure where she thought pleading would get her, but people will do all kinds of things they wouldn’t normally do under duress. Including begging a known sadistic killer to save them from certain death.

“Oh, she remembers her manners!” Cassandra mocked, “Do me a favor and just fall already. I fear I might be developing a crick in my neck.”

(Y/n) could feel the heat of incoming tears sting her eyes as she dangled several feet above her one woman audience. Well, no one could say she didn’t try. She started mumbling a little prayer for herself that turned into a yelp as the chandelier fell another half a foot, a much larger drop than the occasional two to three inches. The sudden gravity shift yanked (Y/n)’s hands clean off the chandelier, slicing her skin terribly as she tried to grab back on. She missed, she was falling.

(Y/n) couldn’t even scream, she just closed her eyes as tightly as she could and waited to meet the ground... speaking of which, shouldn’t she have hit it already?

(Y/n) peeled open an eye and slowly allowed herself to finally take in the buzzing that was surrounding her. Blowflies. She peered down past the swarm to see Cassandra, half formed with her arms outstretched, ready to receive her. (Y/n) could only stare, mouth slightly agape, as she was settled in Cassandra’s arms, watching the blowflies that had carried her mesh back into Cassandra’s legs.

“Why so surprised?” Cassandra asked with a mock sweetness that made (Y/n) shiver, “I simply couldn’t let you die just yet. No, I think I’d like to play with you just a little while longer.”

Cassandra happened to glance at the bloody hands clutched tightly to the maid’s chest and hummed. Adjusting her strong hold on the paralyzed maiden, she clutched the outermost wrist tightly and pulled it to her bloodied lips for a sample.

“Mm,” Cassandra appraised, passing her tongue over the cuts again, “yes, I think I’ll enjoy taking my time with you.” She cackled before unceremoniously dropping (Y/n) to the floor at a much safer, but still painful height.

“Go patch yourself up, my prey. You’re dismissed.” She said and then, she dispersed into a swarm of blowflies and was gone, her laughter bouncing off of the high ceilings.

(Y/n) sat on the floor dumbstruck, before finally getting up on shaky legs. She made her way to the maid’s quarters and upon seeing that it was empty, she allowed herself to cry as she cleaned and dressed her fingers. Lady Cassandra had saved her, saved her for a worse fate by her own hand no doubt. All she could do was wait.

***

Cassandra was a menace.

After the chandelier incident, (Y/n) found herself assigned to areas of the castle that Cassandra was known to frequent. There was never a minute’s rest when the middle child was free from her mother and sisters and even if Cassandra was occupied, (Y/n) often found herself nipped by the occasional stray blowfly as she did her work. There was no question in her mind where they had come from.

Yes, having caught Lady Cassandra’s eye had created a lot of extra work for the poor girl with extra antagonism. She’d poke and prod and pull, jostling (Y/n) around while she tried to stay on task. She would drag bloodied bodies through the carpeted halls (Y/n) had just cleaned and laugh as the poor maid went to restock her cleaning supplies. Cassandra would even demand (Y/n) drop everything to run her baths when she had grow tired of running around with blood smeared all over her like a toddler left alone with finger paints. She’d smugly present her bloodied face to (Y/n), silently demanding she wipe it clean for her and when she was satisfied, she would lean back in her tub and order (Y/n) to clean the bloodied weapons she’d drop dangerously close to her feet.  

Cassandra was insufferable, yet, (Y/n) couldn’t help but think positively because it could have easily been much worse. For as taxing as dealing with Cassandra could be, she had never hurt her, not really anyway. Not like the poor maid who went to clean the armory and left with one less arm than she went in with. The occasional bite of a blowfly stung and the shoves and pinches could be bruising, but at least she still had all her limbs, no broken bones or sickle scars puckering her skin.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as she polished the same battle axe for the third time that week. She was the only maid allowed to clean the armory anymore after Bianca lost her arm. Lady Cassandra had said that only (Y/n) knew how to clean her toys with proper care and could make them twice as shiny and sharp. A few of the other maids would darkly joke with (Y/n) in the serving quarters about the middle Dimitrescu having a crush on her, but (Y/n) would simply dismiss their gossip and continue her work without complaint. Such rumors could be dangerous after all.

As (Y/n) heaved the axe back into its place on the wall, she heard the thrum of quick light feet running across the carpeted hall just outside. She frowned to herself, but kept working. Assuming it was just just another poor girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However the door the the armory clicked open, and the slightly out of breath maid (Y/n) recognized as Moiara peaked in, flushed from all her running no doubt.

“Lady Dimitrescu is ordering all of the maids back to their quarters immediately.” The girl urgently informed.

“Whatever for?” (Y/n) asked, brows furrowed in concern. It was a most unusual order.

“Apparently a pack of Moroaica have escaped the cellar and are currently roaming the castle. The Lady’s daughters are hunting them down, but it could take some time to clear everything up. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t wish to lose more workers than she can replace.” Moiara explained, albeit the last line came out a touch bitterly.

“I understand, I’ll make my way now. Be safe.”

“Thank you.” Moiara nodded before darting off again.

(Y/n) cautiously made her way to the door and peered down both ends of the hallway. Noting that it was clear, she left the doorway and shut the armory door before quickly walking in the direction of the maid’s quarters. It was quite a walk and (Y/n)’s heart went out to Moiara and the rest of the girls who were still scattered further within the castle’s walls.

The halls were eerily quiet and empty, not unusual, but with the added threat lurking, well, it made it a tad more unsettling. It was laughable really, for (Y/n) to be afraid now. The threat of death loomed over her head constantly and only now she was concerned?

(Y/n) chuckled despite herself as she rounded another bend, hardly checking her surroundings as she crossed the third hallway and then the fourth.

“Oh!” (Y/n) tripped on a raised wrinkle in the rug, her hand automatically grasped the curtain beside her to steady herself. She was lucky it didn’t rip or surely the Lady of the House would have her head, never mind the Moroaica.

As she made to steady herself on her own two feet again, the curtain she had grasped twisted harshly and was ripped from her surprised and slackened grip. (Y/n) felt her blood run cold and her feet turn to lead as the ‘curtain’ reached out for her, revealing rotten, gnarled fingers that snapped (Y/n)’s bicep in a firm squeeze. As it completed its turn, (Y/n) saw scraggly, yellowed teeth lunge for her neck.

She attempted to keep the stray Moroaica at bay. The whole interaction, frightening and life threatening as it was, was a near silent struggle. It was as if (Y/n) had lost her voice completely. All that came from her were stuttering gasps as the creature snarled and snapped at her.

It wrestled her to the floor and clawed at her clothes and skin, drawing the blood that it seemed to desperately crave. (Y/n) struggled and kicked at the creature but it was unrelenting and finally something happened that helped (Y/n) find her voice, she screamed.

The Moroaica clawed at her ribs, tearing fabric, skin and muscle alike. (Y/n)’s fighting grew weaker the more the monster dug at her and her mouth was still parted from her pained screams but they were now near silent croaks as the pain and blood loss threatened her consciousness. Seemingly noticing her weakened state, the Moroaica neared its yellowing teeth to her exposed flesh and—

“Oo, look Bela! I found another one~!”

(Y/n) reflexively closed her eyes and felt something hot and wet splatter across her face. She heard a squelching noise and felt dead weight fall against her body as Daniela’s giggles filled the hall.

“You shouldn’t be having so much fun.” Bela grumbled at her sister. “I knew mother should have sent you to your room. It would have been a more fitting punishment.”

“Okay, so maybe I forgot to lock the cellar, but you can’t say you aren’t having a good time as well.” Daniela said, grinning when Bela rolled her eyes, a small shadow of a smile forming on the eldest sister’s lips.

“Aw, look,” Daniela grunted, kicking at the dead Moroaica until its corpse rolled off of (Y/n), “well, let’s not let her go to waste. Her blood still smells good.”

“Wait, Daniela,” Bela said, holding her younger sister’s shoulder as she peered down at the bloodied maid her breaths coming raggedly as she fought to open her eyes. Bela sniffed and winced, shooting her sister a look.

“Daniela, take a closer look.”

“Ugh, fine,” the youngest groaned and leaned forward, “I don’t see why...” Daniela paused, her back went rigid. She just stared at (Y/n) for a few moments before finally turning to her sister, lips pursed.

“Cass is literally going to kill me.”

“You think?” Bela said, almost with complete disinterest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me! If she dies, I die!” Daniela hissed, couching beside (Y/n) to assess the damage.

“I don’t know, I think I would kind of like to see Cassandra hunt you for sport.” Bela smirked.

“Bela!”

“Alright, alright.” Bela sighed, couching at (Y/n)’s other side.

The last thing the maid could make out before succumbing to unconsciousness was a dull, muffled buzzing and a feeling of weightlessness.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, she immediately noted that her throat was drier than a desert wind; her stomach and ribs also burned and itched like nothing she had ever experienced. She gingerly touched her stomach and found it covered in bandages. Her head ached so she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes for a few moments.

With great effort she hoisted herself into a sitting position and had to do a double take of her surroundings. This was not the maid’s quarters and given the amount of time she had been spending in here lately, she was quick to realize she was in Lady Cassandra’s room, in her bed. Before (Y/n) could really let it all sink in, the door was yanked open.

Cassandra stalked in, shutting the door tightly behind her before standing over (Y/n) with a fire blazing in her golden eyes. A blowfly (Y/n) had initially failed to notice crawled down the bedpost before meshing back into Cassandra’s body. Apparently she had been being watched.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Cassandra gritted out, gripping the bedpost so hard (Y/n) was afraid it would splinter.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) questioned, still feeling numb and achy and not at all ready for such aggressive energy.

“Glad to know you still remember.”Cassandra said mockingly before her voice became low and serious again, “You were in trouble, why didn’t you call for me?”

“I don’t...” (Y/n) winced and held her head, it felt like she was on a boat in rocky waters.

Cassandra took notice and with surprising gentleness, lowered (Y/n) to rest fully against the bed once more. She even offered (Y/n) water and helped her drink. Then she checked her temperature, the cool touch of her skin felt wonderful against (Y/n)’s aching head.

“What happened?” (Y/n) murmured, whining when Cassandra went to remove her hand. A bit hesitantly, she put it back. A small, prideful smile curved at her lips when (Y/n) relaxed against her touch.

“Don’t you remember?” Cassandra scoffed, “I swear, you humans are so unbelievably fragile. You were attacked by a Moroaica that strayed from its pack. Bela and the idiot who caused the whole mess found you. I did some sucking up to mother and we fixed you up with a little herbal remedy,” Cassandra frowned her voice becoming a tad accusatory, “Yet you still slept for a long time.”

“I’m sorry to have been an inconvenience Lady Cassandra.” (Y/n) spoke up after trying to absorb all that Cassandra had told her. Surely it would have taken more than a, ‘little herbal remedy’ to fix what had happened to her.

(Y/n) scrunched her eyes shut when Cassandra suddenly growled and pinched the maid’s nose.

“I’m glad you realize it. Do you know how infuriating it is to watch another maid handle my weaponry all wrong? To not make my room the way that I like it? Ugh, I’d have killed them all if mother let me.” She let go of (Y/n)’s nose, swiping the side of her index finger playfully over the bridge a couple times before re-settling her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek.

“That’s why, when you’re all better, you are going to have to train one of those imbeciles how to do it right.”

“I can do it myself, Lady Cassandra. I can get back to work tomorrow I’m sure of it.” (Y/n) nearly pleaded. She was sure any girl she trained would end up killed anyway. There were too many little things that could set Cassandra off to count.

“There is no more cleaning for you. You’re retired.”

“Retired?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but gawk up at Cassandra. The notion was wholly unbelievable. No one retired from serving the Dimitrescus’ unless you counted dying as a form of retirement.

“Yes.” Cassandra said with near vicious finality.

“Lady Cassandra, my parents count on the lei I send them from my job here, please reconsider. There is no work for me back at the village and I’d just be another mouth my family cannot afford to feed.” (Y/n) beseeched, her body quaked with fever.

“Calm yourself.” Cassandra spoke as if attempting to be soft, but was still very on edge. “Your family will still receive money. You aren’t going back to the village.”

“I’m not?” (Y/n)’s brows drew together with further confusion, “but, then what will be my purpose if I’m not to work?”

“Does it really matter?” Cassandra flustered, a buzzing sound filled the space between them, “Your family is getting money and you don’t have to do anything for it, be grateful!” Cassandra pinched (Y/n)’s cheek a bit harshly before standing and stalking away. The buzzing following her as she tore the door open once more.

“I’ll be back with lunch.” The Dimitrescu grumbled before closing the door behind her once more.

“What is going on?” (Y/n) whispered to herself in disbelief before resting her head fully back against the pillow. She caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head just in time to watch a blowfly crawl back into the dark canopy of the bed.

***

(Y/n) wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Suddenly, she had all this free time on her hands and would for a long time apparently. It was nice when she was still recovering, but now that she had healed, she felt antsy.

Cassandra had handpicked a trembling maid for (Y/n) to train, but even those sessions did not last long as the poor girl, Anca was her name, was still expected to complete other chores. Something that did help to pass the time however was Cassandra herself, strangely enough. She was always the one to bring (Y/n) meals unless she was busy with some task her mother had given her, also giving (Y/n) little gifts and talking to her throughout each day. Sometimes the ‘gifts’ were gruesome and the talks seemed more like interrogations, but the effort in which Cassandra put into every interaction left (Y/n) intrigued with, and appreciative of the middle child.

Now wasn’t one of those times unfortunately, and (Y/n) found herself pacing the floor of her room, yes, one of her very own. Given to her by Cassandra right across the hall from her own. Now that she was well enough to do more on her own, she had been moved there about three weeks ago to have her own space. Another thing that was unheard of coming from the middle Dimitrescu. (Y/n) paused by the window to look out upon the snowy ground below.

“Miss (Y/n)?” A knock on the door, “May I speak with you?”

“Anca,” (Y/n) paused her paces, that was strange. There had been no plans for a lesson tonight. Nevertheless, (Y/n) was happy for the company. Ever since Cassandra had removed her from service, the other maids had avoided (Y/n) like a plague “please come in.”

The nervous little maid came in, closing the door tightly behind her, shoulders stiff as she slowly approached and took a seat in the chair (Y/n) offered to her.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” (Y/n) frowned, reaching out to comfort her only to watch Anca shrink away from her hand.

“Lady Cassandra,” she spoke, looking wildly around the room, “she will kill me I’m sure of it. What game are you playing?”

“Game? I’m playing no game.” (Y/n) tried to assure. “Has she said anything to you? I promise I’m covering every base I can—”

“You aren’t doing enough!” She screeched, startling the other. “I’ve seen the way she treats you. The privileges you’ve gained. This is all a set up! You were in my shoes not long ago, have you really lost your humanity so quickly?”

“Anca, please, calm yourself. I’m not working against you, I swear.” (Y/n) tried to explain. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help you. How can I help you?”

“How?” Anca mumbled, rubbing at her dark rimmed eyes. “It’s all because of you that I’m in this mess to begin with!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Anca.”

“No, I really don’t think you are.” Anca sniffed, rising from her chair. “But maybe there is something you can do to help me. I’m already dead, but I want to hurt Lady Cassandra before I go and I think I can do just that,” she pulled a knife from her apron, “if I take you down with me!”

“Anca!” (Y/n) screamed, stumbling away just before the knife could strike her.

“Just hold still! I’ll do it fast, please!” Anca cried as she swiped at her again. “Let me just have this one thing! This one last fuck you to this hell hole!”

“Stop! You’re making a mistake!” (Y/n) tried again, wrestling with Anca for the knife.

The scuffle went on for minutes before (Y/n) was thrown to the back wall, the knife missed her head just barely and sunk into the wood behind her. As Anca struggled to hold her in place and wedge the knife free, (Y/n) called out for her without even realizing it until the blood drained from Anca’s face.

“Cassandra!”

“No, shut up! Shut up you bitch!” Anca squealed, rocking the knife more vigorously.

“Cass—“ (Y/n) tried to call out again, this time fully aware of what she was doing, only to be head-butted by Anca in a desperate attempt to quiet her while she continued to work at the knife.

It was too late for that however, as proven by angry buzzing sounds roaring through the hallway and sliding under the door before forming right at Anca’s back, a cold hand joined Anca’s over the knife and grasped her so hard, (Y/n) could hear the maid’s fingers crack.

“You want this knife, do you?” Cassandra sneered, “Please, allow me.”

Cassandra tugged the knife from the wall like it had been warm butter, Anca’s hand still clenched in her own. She used her other arm to pull Anca off of (Y/n) with a rough tug and hardly took more than a few steps away before plunging the knife deep into the girl’s chest.

“There you go. You’re welcome you miserable little wretch.” Cassandra raked the knife downward, slicing Anca’s flesh all the way down to the hip as the poor girl screamed. “That will teach you to touch what doesn’t belong to you!”

(Y/n) could only watch, wide-eyed and trembling as Cassandra dissolved into her swarm, allowing Anca to fall to the floor before hundreds of little mouths began working at her flesh until the screaming ceased and all that was discernible was a frozen expression of agony on Anca’s face.

The blowflies came back together after a few more moments of feeding and Cassandra reformed, crouched beside (Y/n). (Y/n) didn’t even realize she had sunk to the floor during the gruesome attack.

Cassandra raised a blood covered hand to (Y/n)’s cheek, turning the face in her grasp, she assessed the damage, buzzing all the while. Somehow the sound felt, calming, reassuring. (Y/n) didn’t even flinch away from her touches and instead found herself leaning into them.

“Just look at what that thing did to you,” Cassandra hissed as she watched the blood leak from (Y/n)’s nose, “I should have killed her even slower.”

(Y/n) sniffled, leaning her head on Cassandra’s shoulder, “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come to you if you call for me,” Cassandra sighed and pulled (Y/n) into her lap. She smelled almost overwhelmingly of blood, but (Y/n) couldn’t bring herself to care. “No one has ever called for me like you have before. No one that wasn’t my mother or sisters anyway,” Cassandra bit her lip, “I... at first, I was enraged that you called for me that first time, but the more I thought about it... Ugh! You made me feel all gross and buzzy inside. I’m just so used to humans fearing me, associating me with death. Never have I been called by one expecting to be saved from it.”

“Is that why you helped me after that Moroaica had attacked me?” (Y/n) asked, her voice still muffled by Cassandra’s shoulder. She didn’t really want to catch sight of Anca’s remains again while in the arms of her killer.

“Yes. I’m still mad at you for that.” Cassandra growled, “Why didn’t you call for me that time? I thought we had an understanding.”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) chuckled despite everything, “But I think understandings are usually met through open communication. I’m sorry I didn’t interpret your bug bites and general antagonisms as anything but blatant harassment.”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra snarled, reminding (Y/n) just how frightening she could be.

“I, I’m sorry Lady Cassandra. I forget myself.” (Y/n) stammered before gasping as Cassandra effortlessly rose to her feet with (Y/n) still in her arms.

“You must be awfully tired to be so mouthy. I can’t imagine you’ll want to sleep with a corpse on your rug so you’ll just have to sleep in my room until the maids clean this mess up. I suppose I’ll need to fix your nose too. So fragile, my prey is.” Cassandra sighed, clearly feeling inconvenienced by the whole situation. Though she carefully maneuvered out of the doorway so (Y/n) wouldn’t bump against it as they made the short trip across the hall to her room.

“You treat me quite well for being prey.” (Y/n) tested with caution. “You protect me, but why? Is it all so you can end me yourself at your own leisure?”

“Oh wow Cass, you really know how to make a maiden feel special.”

“I knew she was full of it, Bela! I bet they haven’t so much as kissed yet!”

(Y/n) felt Cassandra’s grip on her tighten as the mocking voices of her sisters closed in on them before Cassandra could slink into her room.

“Shut the hell up and mind your own business!” Cassandra fumed, crossing the threshold into her room before kicking the door shut, making a thunderous slam reverberate off of the castle walls.

Bela and Daniela merely giggled, seeping through the cracks of the doors before reforming over their sister’s bed, nearly falling on top of each other as Cassandra sped past them to take (Y/n) into her en-suite bathroom.

She placed (Y/n) on top on the counter and tweaked her nose without warning, making (Y/n) yelp in pain.

“Quiet prey, I needed to set your nose back into place is all,” Cassandra wrinkled her nose as more blood oozed from the abused cartilage, “damn, why must you smell so enticing.”

(Y/n) couldn’t find any words, both because her nose stung like hell and she was still stuck on what Daniela and Bela were taunting Cassandra about, so she just managed a small shrug.

Cassandra hardly seemed to mind her lack of verbal response. She was too busy grinding her teeth as her sisters continued to whisper and laugh in the bedroom. Cassandra quickly wiped and stuffed (Y/n)’s nose, nearly hissing at her to remain still before going back to deal with her unruly siblings, licking the stray blood from her fingers as she went.

(Y/n) tried to give her some privacy, she really did, but it was hard not to listen in when they were speaking so loudly, and about herself no less.

“You two get out of my room, now!” Cassandra commanded.

“Why? It’s not like anything unseemly is going to be happening in here. Right, Daniela?” Bela giggled while Daniela downright cackled with glee.

“Get. Out. Now!” Cassandra bellowed.

“Oh no Cassie,” Daniela waggled a finger, snatching it back before Cassandra could bite it, “you spend weeks pretending to have gone all the way with dear (Y/n) over there like some casanova and now we find out she doesn’t even know you like her?”

“What’s the matter Cassandra? It isn’t like you to be so chaste.” Bela said with a smirk.

“She must really like this one to be taking her time like this.” Daniela hypothesized with a bloodstained grin.

“Leave you idiots!” Cassandra nearly screamed, “She can probably hear everything you’re spewing! I’ll throw you out in the cold, don’t think I won’t!”

“Geez Cass, no need to be so hostile,” Bela shivered at the thought.

“Yeah, you take your well deserved teasings or we’ll tell mother you are not playing fair.” Daniela added with a pout.

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose shutting her eyes tightly before releasing her nose with a growl and snapping her gaze back to her sisters.

“What do you want?” She grumbled.

“Oo! I want the best bits of your next hunt!” Daniela immediately proclaimed.

“I want to watch you flounder about whilst you try to explain your affections to the maiden.” Bela had said after a moment of consideration.

“Oh! That sounds fun. I retract my previous statement. I want what Bela’s having.” Daniela wiggled.

“I hate you both.” Cassandra huffed before stalking back to the bathroom, her giggling sister’s on her heels. (Y/n) quickly shot her gaze down at her swinging feet, suddenly more interested in the patterns of the floor below.

It didn’t take long for Cassandra to grab (Y/n)’s jaw and pull her face upward to meet her golden eyes.

“Listen prey,” Cassandra swallowed and blinked, her eyes darting all around (Y/n)’s face, “I...”

“Come on, Cassandra. It’s not that difficult.” Bela cooed, egging her sister on.

“I could tell her for you. That would be fun.” Daniela suggested, shrinking back just a bit at the look Cassandra shot her over her shoulder.

“Prey, (Y/n), I... Why is this so hard!” She stomped her foot and her nails bit into (Y/n)’s skin a bit too harshly, “I like you a lot and that’s why I’ve been helping you. I want you to like me too. Do you? Be honest.” She asked with a bit of hostility.

Did (Y/n) like Cassandra? Either way, it seemed like a death sentence to say no. Cassandra seemed to notice (Y/n)’s trepidation and quickly added,

“You don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you, just tell me the truth. If the answer is not to my liking then I guess I’ll simply have to try harder.” She said as if the words physically hurt her to say.

(Y/n) thought back on all of her interactions with Cassandra in a new light. Actually being caught as she fell, the schoolyard boy with a crush behavior (which honestly didn’t give the her any points but did make sense for how the murderous woman might try to show affection), most promising was how she brought (Y/n) back to health and continued to send money to her struggling family despite not working. Then of course she had saved her from Anca’s knife, wasting no time in cutting her down and checking (Y/n) over with care.

(Y/n) gave Cassandra a small smile that steadily grew a bit wider as golden eyes traced the movement and a hopeful sounding buzz began warbling in the back of her throat. Even the sisters standing behind her buzzed in unison, seemingly feeling their sister’s hope and growing excitement.

“Lady Cassandra, I like you too—Eep!”

Cassandra’s face dove into (Y/n)’s neck as her strong arms wrapped around (Y/n) to hold her still as she nuzzled and buzzed to her heart’s content. Bela and Daniela dissolved into their swarms and were haphazardly flying around them in celebration.

Cassandra gave (Y/n)’s neck a playful nip, much softer than a blowfly, before standing back to her full height and throwing (Y/n) over her shoulder.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) tried, wiggling a bit in the sudden new hold.

“Shhh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.” Cassandra said, craning her neck to look up at her sisters still buzzing above them, “Buzz off.” She told them. The clouds of flies let out a bout of disembodied laughter before slipping back under the door, feeling that they had given their sister enough grief for one night.

Once Cassandra was sure they were gone, she tossed (Y/n) on to the bed and climbed in as well, hovering over the stuttering maiden.

“Wuh- wait, Cassandra, I know we established we like each other but—“ the former maid flustered as Cassandra rested her full weight over (Y/n)’s body and moaned pleasantly in her ear.

“Mm, you’re so warm. I could just lay here forever.” She sighed, snaking her hands underneath (Y/n)’s back.

“Thank... you?” (Y/n) awkwardly replied. For as tall and strong as Cassandra was, she was surprisingly light. (Y/n) figured the fact that she was made up of flies had something to do with that.

Cassandra hummed some more, nuzzling her nose in the crook of (Y/n)’s neck and breathing so deeply that (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle. There was a bit of concern bleeding in the back of her mind, but the smiling lips on her collarbone were quick to distract her.

“I quite like it when you make that sound, it’s sweet. But right now I’m quite tired, and I would like for you to be quiet now. I’m listening to your blood move.”

Well, that was a slightly terrifying admission. (Y/n) must’ve been going mad because she reacted no differently than if she had said she was listening to her heartbeat.

“Goodnight then.” (Y/n) murmured, slowly patting Cassandra’s hair, earning a low continuous buzzing that persisted until they had fallen asleep together.

[forever-rogue]

I got a whole 4 hours of sleep today and have to pull a 12 hour shift. So I apologize if it doesn’t make sense, I am new to the Bucky fandom!

I like the idea of his grumpy, refusing to let anyone in, be slowly ground down by reader, but teeters back and forth until reader is in some sort of trouble. Then the flood gates of vulnerability open because he was worried about them. I mean he hasn’t been with anyone since the 40s right? Would he still know how to navigate caring about someone in that way? I don’t know. It was something that has been buzzing around in my head for a week.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: langauge, vague description of sex (minors dni!)

BUCKY MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You’d started out as neighbors - nothing more and nothing less. 

Neighbors turned into causal acquaintances, fueled by your constant baking and copious amounts of goodies. Casual acquaintances turned into friends that would spend an occasional evening watching television together. Friends quickly turned into best friends that became utterly inseparable....with the occasional hook-up. You were hesitant to call it friends with benefits because that just sounded so crass. It was more like best friends with the occasional stress relief.

Stress relief. Sure that worked.

None that you wouldn’t have minded more of course. But you weren’t about to make a move on James Buchanan Barnes and ask him out on a date. No, you knew your place and his. He was physically akin to a god, mixed in with a bit of fuck boy, and yet...you loved him. You’d fallen hard and fast for the man that had gone from a mere stranger to a welcome and comfortable part of your life. But you’d never tell him that. 

No, nope, hell no. Bucky surely didn’t reciprocate your feelings and you’d never been the type to make a move first. 

Besides that...Bucky didn’t exactly strike you as a relationship type of guy. You’d seen him here and there with a girl or two, but it wasn’t anything serious. And since the two of you had started hooking up, you’d never noticed anyone else. And you hadn’t been with anyone else either. It was akin to a non-exclusive exclusive not-really-a-relationship relationship. Neither of you pushed it any further - you both accepted dates here and there but they never amounted to anything. Wonder why?

Unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t that Bucky didn’t want a relationship - he did. He did very much with you. But he just...there was something about being a one hundred and six year-old man that just left him confused and worried. He hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to date much and now that he had the time it reminded him of just how different things were. Dating was this weird confused jumble, but you were a clear and obvious bright spot. He had his doubts that you’d ever want anything more from him. He knew what he was - a mostly stable old man with a body that people seemed to enjoy. He made the most of that - it didn’t seem like people were interested in getting to know him much these days. 

But you did - you always did. And, gods, he’d fallen hard for you - the kind of love that makes your stomach churn and heart feel like bursting and steals your breath away no matter how long it’s been. But what the fuck would you want with him? He’s a fossil with a boatload of mental trauma and even more sass and attitude.

You deserved the world and he only had himself to give. Of course, he was enough - way more than enough - but he didn't believe that. 

There had been numerous occasions when you'd tried to be honest, to confess your true feelings, but you'd always managed to fall short. Every time you got close, something came up. And after the last girl you'd seen him with, you vowed to take your secret to the grave. 

You had come close though - so close - especially the last time you'd hooked up.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were under Bucky, both of you naked and panting as you quickly approached your highs. He was buried deep inside you, head dropped to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nipping and biting at the delicate skin. 

Your legs were wrapped around his waist in order to hold him close. One of your hands was laced together with his while the other was wrapped around his neck. There was something so perfectly harmonious about how you always were together. 

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, James, James, James as he kept going. It was the only time you called him anything but Bucky. As your vision had grown hazy and you felt that familiar warm start to blood your veins, you’d let your true feelings slip. It was so easy, so effortless and in the moment it just...happened.

I love you. 

The declaration hung in the air as you felt your walls clamp around him and he reached his own eyes. That’s when you’d realized what you’d done. This time it was an entirely different sensation radiating throughout your bones - terror. Utter terror.

But if Bucky had heard your three little words he made no mention of them. Relief washed over you as you came to the conclusion that he was just as wrapped up in his own blissful haze that he simply hadn’t heard you. You were safe this time - but you’d have to be extra cautious from here on out.

Oh, but Bucky had heard you. Loudly and clearly. He chose to ignore your words because he was positive that he hadn’t heard you incorrectly. Surely you hadn’t meant to say that - and more importantly, it was a mistake. As much as he loved hearing those words from your pretty lips, he knew it was either an accident or a figment of his imagination. 

You both pretended that nothing had happened. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky rolled his eyes lightly as he watched his phone light up with a call from Sam. He was half tempted to ignore it but decided to answer anyway; he was bored and the call might lead to something to do. You’d normally be hanging out with him on a Friday night, but his calls and texts had gone unanswered.

“Hey man,” Bucky picked up the call and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer, “what’s up?”

“You need to get to the hospital,” Sam was speaking so quickly that it all came out in a single slew of words as Bucky’s brows knitted together.

“I know I don’t have a lot going on this Friday night, but I think I’m okay,” he snorted as he opened the bottle and took a swig.

“No, no, no,” Sam interrupted by almost whispering your name, “there’s been an accident. She was hurt and taken to the ER. I was on the phone with her when it happened - just come. Now.”

Bucky didn’t even wait for Sam to finish before he dropped the beer and ran out the door. His whole body felt like it was growing numb and the only thing on his mind was you. You couldn't be hurt...you just couldn’t. Bucky couldn’t imagine any sort of reality in which you weren’t there. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as he ran into the hospital, seeking out the emergency room, he was asking about you. He looked probably just as crazy as he felt as he was nervously directed to your room. He almost jogged down the hall and into your small space. Sam stood at the end of your bed, looking down at you with a concerned expression.

“What the hell happened?” Bucky could barely bring himself to look at you as you laid on the small bed, looking so helpless and fragile. You were sleeping, sedated from lots of heavy drugs, but hooked up to several beeping machines. Your arm was in a cast already, bruises and contusions and cuts littered every bit of your skin that he could see. His heart plummeted into his stomach. 

“She was crossing the street and got hit by a car that didn’t slow down enough in time,” Sam’s heavy was heavy as he rubbed at his tired, “I heard it all happen, Buck. It was terrible - but she’s strong. She’s going to be okay. No internal damage, luckily, but she’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while. The arm’s broken.”

“Jesus,” Bucky sighed as Sam nodded.

“I called her parents and they’ll be here soon. She’s just sleeping but hopefully will wake up soon.”

“Okay,” Bucky took a hesitant step closer.

“She asked for you,” Sam hadn’t been sure if he should have confessed that little part or not, “when they were bringing her in. Kept repeating your name. You should just tell her, you know. She’s obvious she feels the same. Don’t be idiots.”

“Thanks,” Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically as the two men shared a quick laugh before Sam hugged him, “I’ll stay here if you want to go. You’ve done a lot already. Thank you for calling me.”

“I got you man,” Sam gave him a half smile, “call me if you need anything at all...or if anything happens.”

“Goodbye.”

As soon as his friend left, Bucky came over to you, his fingers grazing the side of the small, horrid looking bed. He was going to help you however you needed it for however long it would take till you were better and out of pain. If he had the choice, he wouldn’t ever leave your side again.

This whole time he’d been so dumb, so silly. He should have just told you how he left - a long time ago and gotten over himself. A heavy sigh escaped him as you pulled up the uncomfortable plastic chair and took a seat next to you.

He gently, ever so delicately reached for the hand that was in the cast and held it in his. It almost made him laugh with how much smaller your hand was than his. They fit perfectly together.

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept, wondering when you’d wake up. He hoped soon - so he could finally tell you all of those unspoken words. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“James?” a croaky, dry voice met his ears as his tired eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision before focusing on you. You were looking back at him with a tired, sleepy little smile on your features. You looked beautiful, so damn beautiful, despite the blues and purples painting your skin, “what are you doing here?”

He must have fallen asleep at some point during the night. He was still holding your hand. He beamed back at you, “hi pretty girl. Sam called me and told me what happened. I came right over.”

“I’m anything but pretty right now,” you laughed lightly but quickly grimaced at the pain, “how long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday evening,” he confessed quickly, “I didn’t want to leave - wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh Bucky,” there was that saccharine little smile on your face. The same one he loved so much, “you didn’t have to. I...I really fucked up movie night, huh?”

“I’m in love with you.”

He finally got those damn words out before he could change his mind or think too much about it. Your face immediately lit up with a grin as you searched his cerulean eyes. 

“Do you mean it?” you asked softly as he nodded, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks.

“Of course.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” you replied, giving his hand a tight squeeze, “I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he whispered as he leaned closer to you, “because I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl. Not now, not ever.”

“I don’t want you to, Bucky,” you promised, “I want you with me always.”

“That sounds perfect to me.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[plush-rabbit]

Thorn In Your Mouth

Request: I'm not quite sure if requests are open, but if they are, may I please request some nsfw noncon with Lucifer or Satan from obey me with a fem! MC?

They're demons, and they love quite differently from humans. One could say their love is overly suffocating and affectionate…

Warning: Noncon

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: i think i made him more jealous in this so,,, hope you like it??

-

It was sweet at first to have Satan fret over you, to care for you in such a way that made you feel safe, but you soon learned that you craved your space, that you missed whenever you could just go out without having to worry about him getting angry at you. He might have directed his wrath towards you at first, but it was never in this way, never in such a jealousy, overwhelming way that you made you grit your teeth and glare at his back. A part of you knows that this is what you signed up for- he’s a demon, one born out of wrath no less, but you didn’t want that to cloud you. You wanted to see the good in him. But even so, he’s still a demon- a possessive one that fears losing you more than anything.

“Where were you?” He asks, his voice steady and eyes piercing into yours. “I tried calling you but-” he tilts his head and an uncomfortable grin pulls at his lips- “you didn’t answer.”

You’re tired of it all. You’re exhausted and just want to borrow a book that could help you sleep. You’re the one to break eye contact with him fist, turning around and rubbing your hand over your neck. “I don’t know Satan, I was just out with friends.” You grab at a book, the title written in thin letters and eager to be done with the conversation, you accept it. “It’s no biggie.” It shouldn’t be and it isn’t. And yet, anxiety still plagues your body.

The exit is near, the doors closed and the light in the hallway, a dim glow signaling that it is indeed time for bed. You make your way, only to be halted by Satan’s hand wrapping around your wrist. “It is a ‘biggie’-” he quotes, annoyance a sliver on his tongue- “when you don’t tell me where or who you’re going out with.” His grip tightens on you and your hand grows stiff, a twinge of fear pooling against your stomach. “What if you were hurt? What then?” You narrow your eyes at him and feebly try to pull away your arm from him. He doesn’t relent. “Where were you?”

Finding it much easier to just tell the truth and get it over with, you sigh. “I was out with friends, Satan. Some imps and incubi from the seventh period. You know them,” you add, hoping that it’ll jog his memory and remind him that it’s mutual friends that he’s so worried about. “We went to the mall and got some ice cream there.”

“Multiple people you went out with then, huh.” You raise your brows, your eyes glancing back to where your wrist is held in his hand. “And if I am their friend- as you say- then why wasn’t I invited?”

You shrug, giving him a puzzled stare. “I don’t know. You weren’t in class. You had some lunch to go to with those friends of yours. We’ll invite you next time.” You yank at your wrist, only to be met with a tighter hold. “Satan. Let go.”

“Do you love me?” He asks, the tension in the room is lost on him and you look at him with an incredulous look, surprised that he would even ask you that at a time like this. “Because I love you. I’m a good partner. I listen and I kiss you and yet, you go around with a group of demons and do who-knows-what while I sit at home waiting for you to come back.”

The meaning of his words aren’t lost on you. Your arm is stretched, extended out as he still holds a grip on you but you need the distance as slight as it may be. “Are you implying that I cheated on you?” He doesn’t respond and stays with his eyes locked on yours. “Satan, I went out with friends. That’s it! Nothing more and nothing less. What the actual fuck.” You take a deep breath and shake your head, the book now discarded on the table beside you. “You know what? Just let go. We can talk about this tomorrow. I’m not in the mood right now.” Your eyes catch at the underside of the door where the light remains steady, the yellow glow teasing at you where freedom lies. “Satan, you’re hurting me.” You hope that that is enough to make him realize what he’s doing.

You’re pushed over the edge of the table, your stomach painfully pressing against the edge of the wood. Your hands flail for a moment, patting and scratching against the table, your legs tense as you call his name, anger evident in your voice. “What the fuck is your problem?” You hiss out, your palms against the table only to be pulled away and grabbed in his hands. “Satan,” you call his name, worry and fear intertwining together. He remains silent, the heel of his shoe clicking against the floor as he presses himself close to you, his groin pressed against your rear. “Satan, what the fuck are you doing?”

There's a crackle of energy that fills your ear, a popping sound akin to Black Cats, the smell of mahogany and citrus in the air as his hands tighten around you. Skin slips away, a harsh press against the back of your head as you’re pushed into the warming wood, and you’re frozen in fead. The room, while devoid of talk, is filled with noise- the buzzing of the electricity, the cracking of his tail and the deep breaths that he takes, the high sound of his zipper becoming undone and the clicking of his shoes. The noise is driving you insane, blood in your ears as you gasp out his name, trying to turn your head, but only being able to face the wall, and you catch a g,impe of yourself in a mirror, faced down with a demon towering behind you.

“You know that I love you, right?” Something sharp replaces where his hands used to be, thorns piercing into your tender skin as you feel his hands hook on the waistband of your jeans. Your breath stops, and something heavy pools on your tongue. “I do everything right by you and yet-” his nails scratch against your skin- “you treat me like trash. You treat me as if I don’t matter.” Cold air meets your warm skin and you’re left in your underwear and shirt, your sex covered by thin fabric. “Do I not matter to you?” He says your name and it isn’t something sweet, it isn’t something that makes you feel warm. It’s something that sounds too foul to be said out loud. He’s ruined your name in just one simple sentence.

“You matter Satan,” you whisper, clenching your sex. Your eyes are unmoving, watching your distant reflection that has a monster behind you, their hands on your underwear and tearing it from your body. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard to your ears. “Satan, sweetheart, please. Let’s talk, okay? Please.”

“Then why didn’t you pick up my calls?” The tip of his cock is pressed against your thigh, something cool leaking down your leg in a slimy trail. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out? Were you keeping it a secret from me?” You shake your head, rubbing along the wood and his hand returns to your head, yanking at your hair and pulling on the strands until you rise and are brought on your knees before him. “No? Really? You’re going to lie to me?”

His erection is close to you, close enough to feel the heat, to see how the tip leaks with his pearling semen. “I’m not-”

“If you’re going to lie, then I'd rather just put your mouth to better use.” He grabs your face, dark green scales that run along his body and trail at his thighs. Your nose is pushed against the underside of his cock, his ridges pressing into you and semen already leaking onto your hairline. His scent is strong, suffocating as he pulls you back, your mouth opening when he twists at your hair, a sharp scream that is soon muffled by his cock entering your mouth. “Make sure you get it wet enough. It’s my cock that I’m going to stick in your little holes.”

Wasting no time, you’re pushed to the base of his cock, your nose buried in his pubic hair. He holds you there, letting his cockhead drip down your throat with his heavy semen. Your tongue is pressed flat against the underside of his ridges, the pointed end of his cock ticking at the back of your throat as he starts to move.

It’s a slow choking motion, his cock filling your mouth only to empty it in a way that makes you feel dumb enough to breathe. Every breath is stuck, lodged in the back of your throat and leaving you a choking mess against his cock. He wastes no time, holding the sides of your head and pushing himself inside of you, using your mouth as his own toy.

Each thrust of his cock has your stomach rising, acid billowing in the base of your throat, his scent and cologne mixing together to overstimulate yourself. Your name is whispered, a soft prayer under his tongue as he deflies your mouth, semen spilling and filling your mouth, tears that sting against your eyes and drip past your chin. It’s harsh, and unforgiving and in your head you curse him and plead to whatever God there is, that he’ll let you live and walk away, that this is some horrific nightmare to make you into a follower. You choke and cy, your throat constricting and face becoming hot, shame and horror flooding throughout your body and you’re left sobbing against his cock.

His hands are rough, nothing like you know them to be, his words soft as ever and yet, you’re still pushed down to the table with your jaw slack and drool dripping down your chin and tears mixing with the heavy liquid. Your mouth is stained with his semen, white bubbling out past your lips as you meet your reflection once more. Your legs are spread and you can only think of saying his name, to have your hands paw pitifully at the table as you call him through a broken mantra.

You’re glad that you listened to him, that you did get his cock wet enough to slip in you without fuss. It’s a slight pinch, sharp and twisting inside of you as your thrusted into, your chest pressed against the wooden table. Everything is on high alert, all your senses overloaded as your sex is filled, ridges tickling inside your walls. Each thrust clicks, a wet snap as he pushes himself inside of you, his tail wrapping around your throat and yanking you upwards, a string of drool snaps against your chin as it’s ripped from the desk. The tip of his tail is thick, filling your mouth as it rests on your tongue, the edges poking against the inside of your cheeks. You’re lifted, your legs bent and resting on the table as he pushes inside of you, your cunt fluttering against him as his base thickens, warm seed coating your walls.

He pulls out of you, and you whisper a soft thank you, your head turning, the red wood clouding your vision. You ignore the feeling of his hand that crawls over your rear, that tickles against your curve and pushes against your taint.

“No, no,” you moan, your body weak and in pain to stop him from continuing. Not like this Satan, please.” But he’s too overwhelmed to listen to you, pressing the slender tip of his cock against the rim of your hole and pushing inside of you.

You squeal and it’s enough for him to push himself inside of you, each curve and ridge filling and marking the inside of you. Your body spasms, your cunt warm and dripping with his semen. His tail pushes deeper inside of you, choking you and letting you taste your spit and his seed that still lingers.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispers hotly against the shell of your ear. “Please,” he begs, holding your body as he enters you. His teeth sink into your shoulder, the pain twisting together leaving you tense and biting on his tail, your tongue pressed firmly against a ridge.

“It hurts,” you mewl, your hands cupping over your breasts to stop the shameful movement. “‘M sorry,” you mumble, your tongue swishing over his tail. With you being stretched, you can feel him in certain areas that makes your body tense and flex. Despite the uncaring nature, you still react to him, shaking and tightening yourself around him, calling his name as you drool over his tail and onto your shirt.

“I love you,” Satan mutters, “I love you,” he repeats, holding you close to him, feeling his heart pump against your back, feeling it rattle against you. “I love you,” he whispers against your ear, his breath hot and words sweet enough to make tears spring to your eyes. He thrusts inside of you, his arms hooking under your knees and horns grazing and picking up strands of your hair as he presses harsh kisses against his bite mark.

You can feel his seed, hot and heavy, flooding inside of your walls and drenching past your heated core, staining the floor beneath you and splattering onto the table legs. With a quick glance, your eyes are strained and your thin arousal mixes in with his semen, coating at his cock and leaving your cunt in syrupy strands. Your legs are lowered, too strained and weak, your latch onto the desk, your bottom lip trembling as you try to remain steady.

Cotton fills your mind, a drug that is welcomed as the ache in your lower regions start to sharpen and dull. Colors mix and the slightest movement has you closing your mouth tightly, your hands already grasping around his neck and clinging to him for dear life. “Don’t drop me,” you plead in a delicate voice, turning to press your nose against his chest.

His hum is deep in his chest, rumbling softly like a distant storm that lulls you to sleep. His hands are soft, rubbing over the parts where he hits, and shushing you when you let out a high-pitched whine. His lips press against your forehead and his hands are soft. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, humming as he nuzzles his face close to yours. “Are you tired?” You nod. “Then let’s go to sleep, okay?”

[yandere-wishes]

MONSTERS

👹 Yandere Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

👹Summary: Monsters aren’t born they're made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception...

👹Warning: dehumanization, mention of gore, blood, slight dub-con mentioned in passing, death, past trauma, and abuse

👹 Edited: By the lovely @tealyjade-libran !

👹 Wordcount: 2,480

👹Alternative Tittle : If Roxanne ( from the Police song) lived in ancient Japan.

👹First Jujutsu kaisen fic! I hope you guys like it, please let me know your thoughts! Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Monsters were made. 

Slowly created as once blazing ideals, withered and died under harsh strokes of reality. Stitched together with broken promises and the ashes of rotting memories. 

Monsters were made

whisked into a role they once dreaded, once feared. Beaten into the role of the villain, the reprobate, the sinner. 

If anyone ever asked Sukuna when was the exact moment he turned his back on the laws of "good" and "evil", shedding his human skin to regrow a pelt of hate and destruction,

He would simply answer, "Never".

Because skin is skin no matter how much it decays. Even if the epidermis turns into a rotting orange shade, littered with eyeballs and teeth that shouldn't grow there.Even if the blood from all those he's slain has finally stained his dermis, tainting it in a permanent crimson that all the waters of Lake Biwa could never wash off. Even if his hypodermis is no longer made of fatty tissue but rather spiritual energy sucked from the atmosphere. It's still skin, the same old skin he was born with.

Sukuna had never shed his skin, he'd only perfected it, enhanced it, molded it into its perfect form, until he was no longer held back by foolish human limitations.

He'd never been "reborn" only recreated; only perfected. 

Spike, talon and teeth covered arms sprouting from oozing, bleeding scars, charred over by begriming infections that burned worse than the strikes he'd endured as a child. Knuckles and bones cracking over and over and over again until they grew as solid as the rocks that were thrown at him when he was all too little to understand the malice behind the insults and threats. Breaking until they could break no more, until they'd become strong enough to split a boulder with a mere flick.

There had come a time when he'd given up licking his wounds, leaving them to be kissed by the mold-covered worms who left an urticating sensation he'd soon come to associate with victory. Rotting flesh growing covered in thick layers of black tar tattoos that hid every cut he'd endured when he'd once been too weak. 

Monsters were created from quarter truths buried neck-deep in fables that snipped like red-eyed scorpions. 

Until the blood dancing through their veins was as black as the void they now called home. 

Sukuna knew the exact moment he realized he was a monster. The day he realized he liked the crunch of skulls beneath his feet, the pitiful spark in mortified eyes staring at the heavens for a scrap of mercy. Mangled mouths barely held together by fractured jaw bones, uttering prayers and pleas that died in the scorching air. 

Sukuna knew he was an abnormality, patched together by broken heirlooms and shattered family traditions. Sitting on a throne made from skulls of those who thought they could ever kill him. 

You can't kill a monster, for you can not kill that which was never born. 

You can't slay something made from good intentions with malevolent methods, something so vile that it might actually be pure. At the end of the day, no monster really admits that it is a monster, a nightmare that should have never existed. 

Yet...

Tattered hearts and cruel orbs are never quite enough. No monster is complete until they dive off that last edge, plummet into the sea of nothingness, and finally, finally break their souls on the spiked soil. Monsters, spirits, curses any malicious being that had been mended together like a half-done ragdoll was not complete until they truly let go. Until they erased all the former humanity that they had been born with. Until their eyes reflected nothing, no emotions, no malice, no want, no need. Just the absolute emptiness. 

The void in all its glory.

that was the symbol, the true markings of a real monstrosity. The void that took over their existence, that had replaced every inch of their former self. Only then could it be said that you were above all other beings, the true perfection of this world. 

There are worse things created than monsters, things that are made from nothing and everything. Things above "Yin" and "Yang". Things that have no scrap of humanity, monstrosity, or anything in them.

Things that are just empty.

So maybe -just maybe- that's why when Sukuna's rotting orange eyes landed on the epitome of emptiness, a...girl, whose face was sculpted to disreflect emotions and intents. Someone who was the void of darkness itself. The true personification of nothingness. 

His heart -for the first time in countless centuries- began to throb.

a truly dead face swarmed by a sea of buzzing ants, chasing their routine happiness. Smiles of delight and carelessness carved on their aging faces with sunlight knives and the melody of golden coins. The lust for life leaking from every pore of their bodies. 

With every face being a carbon copy of each other it was no wonder yours stood out.

There was a silver chain of attraction, dragging Sukuna towards the village girl. Not love, never love, the king of curses was beyond certain, that neither you nor he could feel such a honey-laced sensation. It was more like....something. Something paranormal, inexpiable. Some magnetic force outside of everything's control. 

It was easy enough to explain why he liked you. Why you stood out from the other insects of this middle-of-nowhere-village. 

You had dark matter for blood and dead seas for brains. 

Your eyes radiated an endless abyss. Making others shy away from your lifeless gaze. Scared to look into the void in fear that it may respond. 

You were a thrown away doll,

A living dead,

A dying star,

You were the daughter of the number zero,

The monster that had no maker nor mother. 

Something not born nor created. 

Just an entity that roamed the earth, with no desire nor hope, no wish nor dream. Not leaving, not dying, just existing in the space between today and tomorrow. 

There'd been no need for pleasantries, for hiding behind ghostly tree branches and frozen windows. There'd been no need to kill or ravage for you. No competition to eliminate, because no one ever came near you. Humans don't like what they can't explain, Sukuna knew that all too well. 

Sukuna watched from a close enough distance to almost touch. Lingering around like a phantom begging to be noticed. Orbs trailing over you, but never approaching. Until one day he'd just stood still. Waited for you to turn your head just a fraction to the left, just to see him in all his menacing terror. To finally notice the clawing, crawling sensation that had been creeping up your spine like a hoard of spiders. 

And when your dead eyes did finally land on him. Sukuna could swear that his breath hitched in his throat for the first time in his seemingly endless life.

You weren't human. Humans didn't have hollow faces or marbles for lips. 

You weren't a curse. Curses didn't lack venom dripping from their souls.

You were something better than a monster. You were the divinity of monstrosity, the void itself. Black holes for eyes, answerless paradoxes for hands, and an endless maze where your torso should have been. 

 Exploding suns danced around you, burning, burning, till they died out, leaving behind no trace that they once lit up the universe. 

The space after the end, that's what you were.

Perfect, to Sukuna you were perfect.

You hadn't run, hadn't screamed, hadn't even bothered to talk. You didn't care about him, couldn't care about him. That's what made him want you, made his mouth salivate with the thought of your flesh between his teeth. 

That night the world stood still, as Sukuna's claws penetrated your flesh like twirling needles. You were as light as a feather. You weighed nothing, were nothing. All so easy to pluck and throw about. You never made a noise when your body collided with the bamboo walls, just letting gravity and Sukuna play a twisted ball game with your lump of a body.

You hadn't protested when he violated you. As his lips bit every inch of your body raw. For some unearthly reason that even the gods couldn't understand, would never want to understand, you had found the Curse's violent actions rather...adoring. Taking every slap and slash with the earnest pride of a small child getting praised for a day of relentless chores. letting the dawn-tinted-haired monster adorn your body in blue and purple jewels. It felt right, in a  pathetically, nauseating, twisted way...it just felt right.

 It was disastrous, sure, but it was right. Like two universes crashing. Destroying each other with every kiss and every bruise. 

But...

For the first time in your meaningless life, you had truly understood what "happiness" felt like. 

For the first time in his endless life, Sukuna had truly understood what "intimacy" felt like.

///

Was it wrong to kiss you? For a fraction of a second Sukuna hesitated, blood tinged lips hovering millimeters away from your own stone-set ones. The moon's cursed rays acting like an unnoticed barrier, keeping two things out of each other's grasp. His lips curled back revealing two rows of knife-like teeth. The last resort, a final hope that you'd run away, that you'd act somewhat normal. The king of curses, the evil among men, didn't mind your lack of regularity. He didn't mind how you leaned into every bitter strike, every painful display of fading affection . He adored how you merely giggled as he slashed open your uncharged skin, creating slits for your blood to spill through, onto his waiting tongue. He admired your lifelessness, the way you radiated death. 

Oh, how you filled him with a startling aftershock every time he touched you. Every time his tongue lapped at your bleeding skin he'd feel the sort of electric shocks that came after the storms had passed. Your body had no shape, it molded to his touch, turning his favorite shades of red, with just a little pressure. 

But sometimes, in fleeting, endless seconds. He wished he had a name for what you two were. You weren't his per se, you could never be his. Being his would indicate that he cared about you, or heck even loved you and that could never be true. The king of curses did not love, nor care. He merely tolerated you; you fascinated him, that's all. 

It had been many moons since he first found you in that no-name village. Months upon months since you'd been by his side. You'd watched as he'd destroyed cities, helped him even. Eyes never shedding a single tear. Mouth never uttering a single protest. 

The two of you had become the best, the King of curses and the Queen of nothingness. With the dying speed of laboring bees, Sukuna had carved himself inside of you. Twisted emptiness into flower-covered destruction. Into molten gold lava. 

Leaving you with wounds that were stuck in a cycle of healing and opening. Until they began to harden like his. Until the need for spilled blood lingered on your tongue like the burn of boiled tea. Until under your nails were coated in a decaying crust of dried blood. Sukuna hadn't turned you into a monster, he'd simply showed you the powers that came with your apathy. With a heart as torn and cold as yours, it was a shame to let it go to waste. 

"You're not half bad," his tone is never approving. It's always laced with a strictness that keeps you nailed into place. His words are oxymorons sounding like praise, but once you peel back the lather layers they're just taunts in disguise. 

You don't answer, words die on your tongue as quickly as they are born. Sukuna can't even remember what your voice sounds like outside of small whispers in heat filled nights. 

 However, to the two of you, things like that didn't matter. Your lack of being even semi-alive and Sukuna's endless abuse had become a norm for the two of you. Where else were a two-faced monster and a lifeless girl going to find love anyway? 

Sukuna was all you had, all you ever had. You'd die for him, kill for him, turn into anything for him. Because he gave you life. 

A purpose to life, made out of raging fires and endless screams. A life fabricated from the pain and suffering of others. That was what the king of curses had given you, all wrapped in a human skin parchment. Maybe that's why all logic withered away the first night he kissed you, maybe from the first second that you sensed his presence you had finally gained a reason to be alive. 

///

Whoever said the end of the world was beautiful? Whoever said the final days would be bright and glowing and pure? 

It's just a blaze of stray flames and red crystal droplets that may or may not be your blood. Funny, Sukuna had always thought that your blood would be as black as the moonless sky, not a mundane red like everyone else's. He'd expected a grander death from you. Some sort of black hole opening to swallow the world whole. Not just another corpse motionless in a pool of their own blood. 

Although he's not one to talk. His own 'death' is lingering on the horizon. Sukuna's head tilts back looking for the flashing jujutsu sorcerers. 

"S-sukun-a..." 

He smirks, fangs sticking out at odd angles. Your voice is sweet, for the first time in forever he'd even dare say it held some semblance of emotion. 

What that emotion is, he doubts he knows or even really cares. He'd long since stopped trying to identify all those "feelings" and their associated names. 

His orange eyes lock with your fading orbs, one last time. No, not the last time, just the final time in this lifetime. He's sure he's going to see you again. In any other life, Sukuna knows he'll be able to recognize you despite whatever flesh suit you'd be wearing. 

"Shh little one," he's halfway gone before he finishes his sentence, leaving you to relish in his memory in your final moments. "We'll see each other once more, someday in another life..."

His four eyes lock on the approaching sorcerers. He finds it humorous how desperate they look. How alive and ready they seem, such a stark contrast to your ever lifeless face and dead eyes, it repulses him. 

"Or maybe in one of the circles of hell." 

The flames encircling his fingers remind him of the heat your body radiated in the dead of night. The crack from bones hum as they meet his knuckles, flash memories of your days wasted together doing nothing and everything. 

The two of you will meet once more, he's sure of it. After all...

Monsters never die. 

How could something that was never even born in the first place, ever die?

[wevegottogetaway]

The one where it turns sweeter (part2)

TW: smut

So... this is my first time writing smut. I just hope that I did the piece justice and that you’ll like it. Tell me if that’s something you’d want more or also if you have any feedback/criticism/idea/request, I would love to hear your lovely thoughts. Please don’t be shy xx

Part 1

"Just shut up and come kiss your dork." 

Y/n certainly doesn’t need more incentive to comply; the sweet taste of his lips seeping through hers is plenty enough as it is. Her mind is a nerve-ending away from losing any semblance of a grasp on reality. This feels too much like a dream: fuzzy mind, sensitive skin and a desperate plea not to be awakened yet.

Except, all her senses are on overdrive, buzzing with more fervency with every new inch of her that Harry explores. And no matter how dreamlike it all seem, the thrills are much too intense to be sleep-induced and the details much too accurate to be conjured up by a deceiving mind. The way chills spiral up her spine as they follow the roaming of his hands underneath her shirt; the way her skin erupts in tiny goose bumps where his lips leave wet spots after careful ministrations. Starting at the corner of her month, as if reluctant to retire from their twin set, all across her left cheek to finally tease the area right below her ear and mischievously graze his teeth around the earlobe. 

Definitely real. 

"Fuck. I’ve been wai’in." He almost whimpers the extent of his relief, the rasp of his voice triggering a new wave of shivers across y/n’s straddling body. "Been waiting so long, love." 

"No more waiting now." She quickly answers with a pointed shake of her head.

Her hands also have a mind of their own, not wasting a second more to finally tread the land that had been forbidden to her until tonight. Now his neck was hers to scratch and his wondrous locks hers to grasp and to pull in taunting fashion. Now the grunts coming out of his mouth still tending to her ear, were hers to revel in and to swallow in a searing kiss. Now she was his to hold, to touch and to undo like the final tug to a bow on a wrapped present. Now the pleasure was theirs to share. 

"Off, take it off" Y/n breathlessly inquires after pausing their kiss long enough to voice her request. Her fingers have already made their way to the bottom of Harry’s jumper, slipping underneath the heavy material only to be met by more fabric. She pouts as she realizes there was more work than expected, but as soon as the first layer has been discarded and she takes in his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, the disappointment melts right off her lips. Her hands cups at his face as she bits a growing smile and her eyes dive into the green gems already focused on her. "Flustered, are we?" She teases before rearranging his hair back in one brushing gesture and sealing their lips back together.

"Mhm, got me all hot an’ bothered, darlin’" he quips back as he rids her of her top, successfully leaving her in a simple black laced bra. Damn, she didn’t have the same multi-layer luxury he had apparently. The special endearment is also not lost on her, its appearance quite new between them, but in retrospect it can just be added to the list of ‘new’ things their relationship now entails. 

Harry takes in the sight of her exposed cleavage, one hand swiping the strings of hair still resting upon her right collarbone, before finally dropping kisses down her neck and across the top of her breasts. One soft grip at her waist, his other hand crawls back to press against the area between her shoulder blades in a desperate attempt to get her that bit closer than she ever was.

"You’ve got one more." Y/n reminds him, her head slightly tilted upward as to avoid a mouthful of Harry’s mane. At her words, he slowly leans back to take in her own flustered state.

"This not enough fo’ you?" He asks knowing full well she was just as antsy for skin-to-skin contact as he was.

"Not even close" she proudly responds while taking the matter into her own hands. In a swift and not too clumsy motion, she’s got his undershirt in a bowl that she hastily throws behind them.

"Better?" He smirks at her. 

"Halfway there" is all she retorts and goes back for a much needed kiss, hands finally embracing the smooth expanse of his bare back. She can feel his own smile spreading so wide he can barely follow the kiss’ dynamic. "What?" She finally asks him in suspicious banter, keeping her face an inch away from him, a finger swiping across the corner of his bottom lip.

"Nothin’" He murmurs along her jaw, before elaborating. "Just…livin’ on a prayer."

Y/n can’t help but laugh at the Bon Jovi reference, the moment is so Harry-like. A few words were always enough to make random songs pop into his head, and then the temptation is too hard for him to pass up the opportunity to make a pun about it. That’s just how he’s brain works and y/n has always loved this quirk of his. He is a music enthusiast after all, and the passion he’s derived from is what made him such a force to be reckoned with, so really, y/n doesn’t mind.

"Care to clue me in on that prayer of yours?" She says instead, before she suggestively takes a bite of his lip. The statement earns her a chuckle as Harry goes back to flowering her neck his tender pecks. 

"Don’t worry darlin’, you’ll be singing them in no time." He chirps back seductively, bringing his hands to grasp at y/n thighs still straddling his lap. Then in one swoop, he lifts her and lowers her back until she’s laying on the ground. Quickly his tattooed torso follows suit as he comes resting above her figure and reunites their lips in an unprecedentedly passionate kiss. 

This time around, y/n’s hand concentrate on the inked work adorning his front, fingers tracing each of the artist’s lines. It mesmerizes her how the art seems to be such an intrinsic element of his skin now. Like all the graphics and doodles had been embedding the tissue since birth. Swallows flying across is chest as he learnt how to walk; laurels flourishing along his pelvis as he became less boy and more man; butterfly metamorphosing some every day he grew closer into the amazing being he is now. 

So y/n may have lost it a little, but in her defense, Harry has always been her weakness and now he’s kissing his way down her chest and playfully nipping at her belly button…so she’s officially relinquished any sovereignty she may have once possessed over her body. Harry softly pecks the palm of her hand when she brings it to his cheek, her gaze already clouded in euphoria. After sharing a knowing look like two accomplices on the brink of mischief, he mutters a soft "can I?" as his fingers tease at the waistband of her jeans. 

A hazy ‘please’ is all he needs to work her zipper down and button off, all the whilst sporting a smug corner smile. The task gets a bit more tedious when it comes to peeling the fabric from her legs but it’s not Harry’s first skintight jeans’ rodeo. Plus, the sight he is privy to once they’ve joined his long forgotten undershirt and jumper somewhere behind the couch, is quite unparalleled in comparison. Smooth legs that take his head for a spin with how elegant yet how strong they look; cotton panties, still matching in color, covering wonders he has yet to experienced; so much flesh and skin ready for the taking and calling out for his touch. 

A soft groan escapes him as he lowers himself back to place a wantsome kiss on her timid smile. "Fuck, look a’ you, love." More kisses. "So pretty…so delicious." He utters against her throat, nose tenderly rubbing against the skin. 

His lips retell the same stories as they travel down y/n’s body once again, this time making a longer halt as they gloss over her breast, blindingly enclosing themselves around y/n’s nipple though the garment’s lace. She swears she can feel him smiling against her boob as the small bud hardens from pleasure, and when he adds in a quick graze of his teeth once he’s satisfied with his work, y/n’s hand flies out to the one making its way up to her other nipple. 

The gesture isn’t meant as a restraint so much as an encouragement which Harry happily embraces. His thumb starts circling the areola in a slow and teasing manner, every now and then applying increasing pressure in its center. Y/n’s hand is still wrapped around his wrist, as if afraid he would suddenly stop, while the other slides down his back to squeeze at his bum. 

"Touch me" she breathes out.

"I am."

"Touch me more." Her insisting words have him lift his head from her skin to process her demand: at this point, his mind might be fuzzier than hers. 

"My girl wants somethin’ more? Just have to ask, darlin, I’ll give it straight t’you." 

His hand starts moving underneath hers, and once she’s pleased with the path it’s taking, she lets go of it. Just as her hand settles back on his shoulder, her fingers dig in the flesh in retaliation to the dragging caress Harry is delivering underneath her panties. He is being awfully slow at it, collecting wetness all around and bringing it back to slick up her neglected clit. He has readjusted his body back to her level, not wanting to miss the slightest manifestation of her pleasure on her face.

As his movements around the bud speed up, her legs fidget more and more in between his, until the pressure starts building strong in her lower belly and her mind is once again pleading to get him closer to her. Untangling their lower limbs to wrap hers around his waist, his response comes in a feverish kiss and his ministrations moving from her tingly clit to her wet opening. They resume their circling motion, index teasing its way in but never quite making an entrance; the patience game he seems to be playing not to y/n’s liking as she groans against his lips.

"Flustered, are we?" He has the audacity to use her own words against her but somehow it turns her on even more. Makes her all the more curious to discover just how sassy he can be when he’s got her in a puddle at his fingers. Quite literally. 

"Don’t be mean." Y/n pouts before laying open mouth kisses along his neck. Maybe that’ll motivate him.

"Sorry, love. You’re just so drippy down there, it’s driving me crazy. Is it all fo’ me?" He kisses her forehead in a vain attempt to make up for all the riling up he’s doing. 

He forgets he can be as easily riled up though, when y/n susurrate at his ear "You know it is." 

The admittance has him pushing his hips against her, effectively pressing his fingers harder on her pussy. They both moan in unison at the friction, heightened pleasure coursing through their bloodstream, saturating their veins. It’s then they realize there’s so much more to come, like the moment ticked something off in their brains, and now they can’t get naked fast enough. Frantic hands pulling at the remaining clothing articles left of their bodies while their lips are caught in an equally raging war. A war they’re battling on the same side as they fight for the same thing: intimacy, passion, closeness. 

Once they’re both left bare to the other’s eyes, they take a second to revel in the moment. It took all the patience and abnegation in the world to get them to this point. Days of yearning stifled in silent admonition and nights of supposedly wishful thinking that left them wanting more at every new sunrise. So much anguish turned into so much elation as the truth prevailed though. That’s a lot pleasure warranted to make up for lost time. 

"Been dyin’ to taste you, darlin’. What d’ya say?" He asks in between kisses. Their naked bodies are so untangled they can’t tell beginning from end, but Harry is all too willing to unweave himself form y/n’s loving limbs if it means he gets to have her on his tastebuds. And apparently so is she, if the high-pitched ‘please’ breathing past her lips is any indication.

The smugness returns on his face as he once again undertakes the delightful descent to her sensitivity. There is no material stopping him this time though, just more skin begging to be brought to life. And when his lips finally surf across her mound, the goose pumps blooming in their wake just prove him right. Her breathy noises only spur him on, tongue finally taking a long swipe across her lips, like a secret weapon kept under wrap for the most opportune time. 

Y/n’s hands are quick to grab onto something, and the absence of linens underneath her only hastens her reach for him: one hand buried deep in his headful of curls, the other resting on his own hand at her hip. She feels his thumb rubbing soothingly at her skin there and she loves how tender he can be, even while simultaneously devouring her in greedy licks. The contrast as her vision blurring and no matter how much she wants to watch him have the meal of his life, her body is too riddled by pleasure to keep herself focused enough. 

The feeling only keeps intensifying as Harry properly delves into her, tongue first, his other hand eventually coming to hold her thigh down as it keeps clamping back shut at every new wave of ecstasy rushing over her. "So good, Harry. Feels so good." She keeps chanting in delirium, and Harry’s own excitement is starting to grow unbearable. There’s no way he can’t let go of her to relieve himself for a second though, he’ll just have to wait for her unravelling.

"Taste so sweet, love. Come on, please cum fo’ me. Need it real bad." He pleads for her undoing as though Time was about to rip her away from him before he got to properly have her.

Deciding the moment calls for a change in tactic, he brings two fingers to her wet hole and swiftly slides them inside of her. Rejoicing when he is met with no resistance, he quickly brings his lips back to her sensitive bud, alternating between hard sucks and pacifying licks.  

It doesn’t take much longer for the knot inside of her to come undone and her orgasm to take over every parcel and every atom of her. And Harry can’t get enough. She’s everywhere: all around his tongue as he keeps fucking into her in earnest strokes; up to his nose while the angle has him brushing against her clit; down his ears with songs of uncontrollable bliss; underneath his hands as he can feel every spasms seizing her body. 

He tends to her sensitivity until she’s too overwhelmed to bear it, and complies when she gives a small tug at his hair. Their lips immediately find each other even though they were both rendered breathless by y/n’s climax. She can taste it on his lips so vividly, it makes her moan at how utterly crazy he’d gone at it. She tenderly swipes away the wetness on his chin while their tongues waltz together, and brings him closer to her with a koala move. Soon they are both made acutely aware of Harry’s excitement as his hard member is trapped between their heated bodies. 

"You’re incredible." Y/n finally voices with a look of unadulterated love and pure wonder. Her smile only emphasizes her confession and Harry’s heart swells so hard, he wonders if the butterfly on his stomach feels it too. He mirrors her beam with one of his own before lowering his forehead against hers. His muscles are starting to feel sore from the tension that has yet to be liberating from his body, and it takes all he’s got, not to drop the support his arms provide as they lay on each side of y/n’s face.

"Got me so hard, love. Feels like imma bout to explode." He admits while sliding his cock back and forth along her sweetness. He feels like a ticking bomb, winded so tight from years of nerve-wracking suspense, that have never felt more like foreplay than right at this moment, as y/n reaches out to him. Her hand confidently wraps around his shaft to deliver long strokes that have him shudder in pleasure. 

"Gonna do something about it?" She murmurs tauntingly at him.

"Mhm" is all he can respond before taking her hand from his cock and holding it down above her head in an interlocking grip. Taking a hold of his hard member, he then proceeds to gently tap her clit with his sensitive tip, in retribution for a teasing behavior. "Do we need a rubber?" He remembers to ask in between her moans.

"Not on my account." She answers truthfully, and Harry exults in knowing there will be nothing but warm smooth walls enveloping his dick once he finally has her.

"Yeah? Gonna let me just slide in? Take me all the way an’ keep me there forever?" The words have a clear purpose to wind her up further, but Harry thinks he might have screwed himself over with that one, as he finds himself equally aroused at the idea. Precome is already leaking from his reddened and swollen tip, only adding to the mess they’ve made together.

She answers him with a gentle kiss and her free hand comes to hold his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek in light motion. Their lips part for a shaky breath as Harry slowly pushes himself inside of her. They both sigh when his hips meet hers, every tensed molecule in their body uncoiling at the delicious friction. 

As he starts rocking into her, Harry’s hand grabs at y/n’s thigh to keep it close around hip. His other hand is still interweaved with hers by her head and he doesn’t think he’ll ever let got of it.

He’s movement starts to speed up, as the pleasure becomes stronger and the change in pace has y/n arching into him. He takes the opportunity to slide his hand up her back, when his fingers come in contact with a tiny item on the floor. In confusion, he takes it out from under her, and brings it up between them. Puzzled faces relax in recognition as they take in a square shape piece of their long forgotten game, the letter G carefully painted on its surface. 

"Guess I found it, huh." He jokes before tossing the piece away, and they both burst in laughter at the silly pun, Harry’s face buried in her chest. How can one have still so much wit even when balls deep in their secret-not-so-secret-anymore crush for the first time? Y/n loves it, though. It makes all the rapture even more delectable to know the one giving it to her is the same old Harry who almost gave her a heart attack once from how hard she was laughing. 

Laughters quickly merge into gasps of pleasure at the pressure of y/n’s walls tightening around Harry’s cock. Just like that, the playful interlude is over, letting lust conquer all. Powerful thrusts resume their pounding motion as y/n once again dissolves into colorful moans, and Harry takes his hand back up her spine until he’s holding onto the back of her neck. Kisses are trailed down her throat as he tilts her head slightly to the side. "Squeezin’ me so hard, love. Must be doin’ somethin’ right," He says against her skin, as he pounds into her. He can feel her walls clenching again, body twitching around him and he knows she’s close to her peak.

Removing his hand from underneath her, all the whilst not relenting from his earnest fucking, he brings two fingers to her lips, caressing the soft flesh before dipping past them. "Come on darlin’, make ‘em wet for me." He commands and the mere word have her throbbing from anticipation. Obediently, she accepts the digits in her month and starts wrapping her tongue around them like she would his cock. As she indulges in a soft suction, Harry’s hips snap even harder, making her wheeze in response. 

Fingers free from the confine of her warm mouth, he fits them down where their body meet and starts rubbing at her clit. "About to cum, aren’t you? Can feel it too, you know," he starts rambling to distract him from his own impending climax, "Gonna give it to me good, yeah? Wanna feel it all around, makin’ a mess o’ me, alright?"   

"Yes, Harry. ‘M so close," y/n answers before giving a sharp tug at his hair, "fuck me harder, please." It takes all his might not to nut right then and there, but the prospect of sharing the sweetest high of all with her, gives him enough resolve to hold back. Instead, he endeavors to make good on her request by delivering hard and vigorous thrusts that has her bucking against him. Wet noises start feeling the space around them, arousal coating their joined bits as well as Harry’s busy fingers. "That’s it, that’s it, almost there" he keeps muttering like prayers whispered to the Almighty. And it seems like the heavens are responsive tonight as a couple of hard calculated shoves is all it takes for y/n’s orgasm to rupture and send her spiraling. 

"Harry," his name on her lips at this very moment might just be the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. "Feels so good." Bliss and ecstasy are written all over her face, and the visual coupled with the sensation of her pussy still hugging tight onto his shaft, send him to a euphoric release of his own. Goose pumps pave their way across his skin as he gives a few more rolls of his hips to accompany the ribbons of cum spurting out of his cock. Y/n’s name is the only thought consuming his hazy mind, the only sound leaving his mouth against the tender skin of her throat where he’s buried his face. Slowly he then removes himself from her - not without a whine at the newfound emptiness greeting them both - and plops down by her side.

The living room is filled with an eery silence for a minute, as both y/n and Harry process everything that just transpired and give their body and chance to recuperate. Their sides are still touching, sticky from sweat, their breathing slowly regulating back to an even level. Harry carefully slides his hand into hers and they both share a look of affection.

"That was amazing." Y/n breaks the silence first in a hushed voice, and her confession makes Harry smile in pride.

"Fuck, com ’ere." He says although he’s the one lifting himself up on one elbow to give her a languid kiss. As he settles next to her, yet another Scrabble piece makes an appearance, this time stuck to the skin on the side of his shoulder before it falls off in a soft thud on the floor. He must have laid down on it in post-orgasmic bliss and the sweat made it stick there for a second.

Y/n picks it back up with a beaming smile as she inspect the little token. "Damn, for once I was actually kicking your ass at Scrabble. Kinda screwed myself over, didn’t I." She laughs at how she’d been so intent on winning the game, yet had been the one to throw the game board  along with caution to the wind.

"Actually love, I believe I was the one you screwed." Harry playfully retort, earning him a small slap to the stomach. The gesture only makes him laugh some more as he engulfs her in a crushing embrace. 

➪ Masterlist

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xi

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: mentions of explicit themes, curse words

word count: 2.6k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle​ @btsmakesmehappy​ @stargukkie​​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

As soon as you get out of the elevator, you rush to the slot where your car is parked, checking your surroundings before sending a quick text to Chohee. 

You fall silent, remembering the events that transpired last night, and having to see the cause of it all just this morning.

You barely make it out of the basement with the eight-year-old family Camry you borrowed from your parents and as you exit your apartment building, you make a mental note to have it checked one of these days. 

Thankfully, you reach Woocheon alive and in no time, considering the current state of your car. There are only thirty vacant slots left when you reach the hospital’s basement. Sighing, you keep your eyes open for any vacancies. When you spot one just beside the space reserved for motorcycles and bikes, you speed a little towards it, hoping that no one else will beat you to it. 

Just next to you, a scooter arrives, and as a familiar mop of blonde hair greets you, you knock on your window, excitedly waving at Jimin as he lifts up the scooter seat to retrieve some of his things inside. “Jimin!!” 

“Hello, _______, good morning to you too. You seem...bright-er today.” 

“I’ll tell you all the deets later with Soomin, but ackkk can you believe it? Our first day!!” Jimin laughs at your enthusiasm as he waits for you to get your stuff from the passenger seat. 

“You want me to help you with that?” Jimin eyes the duffel bag hanging by your shoulder. “I’m okay, no worries,” you reply, reassuring Jimin and waving him off with a free hand. 

“_______, it seems as heavy as it looks...” Ah, maybe the strap straining against your shirt was a little too obvious then... but you don’t have the heart to burden Jimin with your own belongings so you politely decline one more time. 

Jimin, however, isn’t convinced one bit with your statement, especially when he sees your knuckles turn white as you adjust the strap of your bag. “How ‘bout this instead? You carry my bag, and I’ll carry yours because mine is definitely lighter than that...baggage of yours, ________.” 

He doesn’t budge from his spot, raising his eyebrows as he gives you an offer you can’t deny. “Fine, but this is only for today, okay?” Pouting, you hand your bag over to Jimin who accepts it with a smug smile. He then proceeds to jokingly topple over due to the weight of your bag. 

“Jimin!” you exclaim, tugging the strap back towards you. “I’m kidding! It’s fine _______, don’t worry about me,” he smirks, doing weird poses as you both make your way out of the basement parking lot. Just a couple of minutes later, and Jimin entertaining you all the way through, you both arrive at a small restaurant just beside the hospital where the three of you agreed to meet for breakfast. 

With brows furrowed in concern, Jimin waves his fork in front of you to get your attention, “_______, you okay? You’ve been staring at that bottle for quite some time already...you think maybe you can ketchup later instead?” Jimin snickers quietly to himself, while you and Soomin have similar expressions, staring blankly at Jimin who instantly turns quiet after seeing your reactions. Jimin sinks slowly in his seat as he clears his throat. “Uhm, sorry...I’ll just shut up...for now...”

“Mustard you do that this early in the morning?” Soomin looks at you then squints her eyes at Jimin while she fights the grin playing on her lips. Jimin’s face lights up like a little kid on Christmas day. The two share a high five as they bond over their equally awful jokes as you quietly rejoice in your seat, glad that they seem to have come out of their shells after their awkward first meeting. 

You wish someone else in particular would have at least made an effort to rectify your rather unpleasant first meeting too. 

“You two would make a cute couple.” You make sure your observation is loud enough for them to hear, disguising half of your sentence as a cough to distinctly express your amusement. 

The two instantly part at your remark - Soomin going back to picking at her food while Jimin takes a sip of is drink. Your eyes widen a little bit, realizing that you might have celebrated a little too early for that. “Anyways, like Jimin here mentioned, you do seem a little distracted today...you alright?” 

You close your eyes for a bit, trying to lose the image of Jungkook greeting you in your own corridor this morning. You’re certain it’s not just your sheer pique against Jungkook that continues to bother you, but half of it is definitely the humiliation that came with realizing he was the same person that had indirectly brought you to your high last night - and your own dignity could not take the veracity of it all. 

“Okay, remember when I told you guys recently that my neighbor was leaving and that she’s looking for a new tenant, right?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“And do you also remember the time I mentioned that I am...uh...displeased with a particular human being named Jeon Jungkook?” 

It’s Soomin who makes a second murmur of affirmation. 

“Ah, yes... you meant you hate him. Am I correct?” seconds Jimin. 

“That is affirmative. Yes.” 

You take a deep breath before starting, “Well...” 

“Hang on, let me just backtrack a little bit...we’re talking about the same Jeon Jungkook from Yonsei right? The one you tied with at the boards?” 

“That is also a yes.” 

“Well... I think he might be my new neighbor.” Grimacing, your face crumples in disappointment while you imagine just all the possible things that might happen having Jungkook as your neighbor...and all the nightmares that will accompany his moving in. 

Jimin purses his lips in a poor attempt to control his snicker. “You have an insane amount of bad luck following you around, ________.” Courtesy of Chohee divulging yours and Jungkook’s history all the way to your first encounter with him, Jimin is well aware of your resentment towards Jungkook. 

“In all honesty though, he seems like a normal dude. Just leaning a bit towards the cheeky side, but nothing too atrocious really...and if I do say so myself, you really, and quite literally, just got off on the wrong foot.” 

“Jungkook...Jungkook...Jeon...” Soomin is looking somewhere else, clearly focused on trying to recall a memory as she repeatedly taps her nails against the table repeatedly. “There’s something about him that I’m forgetting but,” she says, looking at her watch, “but shit!! We’re going to be late, we gotta leave!” 

The three of you get up from your seats abruptly, the sound of your chairs scraping against the floor startling the other customers in the restaurant. “Come on! Quickly!” 

The locker room is full by the time the three of you arrive that you have to squeeze through rows of interns before a female WMC employee in uniform comes through the door with an announcement. “All interns, please proceed to the lobby for your hospital tour and orientation. Chief Park Daejung will be with you momentarily.” 

Your trio scrambles to look for free lockers while the rest of the interns start to file out of the room, so when Jimin finds a free one for the meantime, he hurriedly grabs both yours and Soomin’s stuff and stashes them inside before ushering you all out of the room to catch up with the group. 

At the lobby, the HR assistant from earlier, Narae (the same reason you’re convinced majority of the male interns are paying more attention than expected) is already making a roll call of all the interns that came in this morning and your trio just makes it in time to hear your names getting called. 

Even from the back row with all the disadvantages of having average height, you’re practically buzzing in your spot and just like a crazed woman, you’re powerless to shake off the smile that seems permanently etched on your face. 

“Excited?” Jimin nudges your side as he looks at you with an equally warm smile. “Yeah...” you murmur, marveling at the sheer size of the hospital, “I have studied my ass off my whole life for this moment...” 

Opening the information booklet handed over by Ms. Narae earlier, you slide your ballpen off your lanyard, deciding to write your name both in Korean and English on the first page and officially claiming it yours. As you get to your surname, someone bumps into you, causing you to scribble a line throughout the entire page. 

You take a deep breath, internalizing your annoyance and drilling it to the far end of your brain. Nope, you weren’t going to let this bother you, not today at the least. The name Chief Park Daejung class out however, makes you look up from the booklet. 

“Jeon Jungkook? Glad to have you join us...fifteen minutes after call time.” 

“I am sorry, Sir. Something came up. This won’t happen again.” 

The chief turns to Narae, who’s been nothing but professional the whole time, ignoring all the ogling from all the other interns, “Didn’t know we actually got him. I’d recognize this kid anywhere. He’s the spitting image of his father - plus, they both make sure to make strong first impressions,” adds the chief, handing over a clipboard back to Narae. 

Even though the voice coming from your right is unmistakable, you still close your eyes in fervent prayer, hoping that the person the chief was referring to isn’t the same number one person on your fight-on-sight list. Slowly, you pry one of your eyes open just to see Jungkook already staring you down with a smug grin on his face. “Fancy seeing you here, smally.” 

Soomin, who’s standing on your left, leans toward your ear. “Ah, that’s what I was going to say earlier this morning...Jungkook was on the intern list.” 

With the smallest smile your face muscles can muster, you look at Soomin, eye to eye. “Thanks for the warning, Soomin. I...really appreciate it.” She winks at you as she replies, “You’re very much welcome, dear.” 

Jimin, who seems to have overheard the entire conversation, looks over and waves at Jungkook. “Hey bro, didn’t know you applied for Woocheon too! This is awesome!” 

You’re starting to question if your so-called friends are really on your side or not. 

Taken aback by Jimin’s questionable enthusiasm, Jungkook scratches the back of his head before voicing out a reply, “Oh yeah...surprise! I guess...” 

Surprise indeed. 

“Well, shall we start then? We’ve got a long day ahead of us!” Chief Park clasps his hands together, “Everyone, welcome to the Woocheon Medical City.” 

Woocheon is going to be hell. 

Miss Narae continues to walk your group around the hospital’s main building - through the lobby, cafeteria, outpatient clinics, as well as the different departments. “Correct me if I’m wrong but don’t the orientations usually come before the tours?” you ask Soomin, going over to the page of the booklet showing the hospital map.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of foot traffic in the hallways starting from ten onwards so it’s not recommended to have the tour during those times…” Soomin replies. 

“Oh… I see…” Your group finally arrives by the operating rooms and you close the booklet, focusing on Miss Narae’s guidelines. Suddenly, the automatic doors open and out come two doctors talking to each other with the taller man stretching his arms. “Interns, may I introduce to you our surgical residents, Dr. Min Yoongi and Dr. Kim Namjoon, specializing in general surgery and neurosurgery respectively.” Your group bows to the senior doctors, likewise greeting them a good morning. 

“You all sure about choosing medicine as your career path?” The smaller one of the two, who you assume to be Dr. Min, says with a straight face. 

“Hyung, don’t scare them away! But just so you know,” Dr. Kim adds, then takes a step closer to your group, “...there’s still time to back out, kids,” he whispers, earning nervous chuckles from the group. 

“Ah new babies!!” Someone from behind your group announces. With the blue scrubs he’s wearing, you assume he’s another surgeon (and an insanely handsome one too). “Apples keep the doctors away but the hospital can’t really keep its patients away can it? Else we wouldn't have such a magnificent hospital such as the Woocheon Medical City, right?” Laughter erupts from the group as he passes through, making a beeline towards Dr. Min and Dr. Kim. 

Miss Narae clears her throat, gathering everyone’s attention once more, “I’d also like to introduce to you Dr. Kim Seokjin, also a surgical resident specializing in general surgery.” 

“Oh don’t believe her! With looks like these? Sheesh! We’re actually newbie actors filming season 3 of Hospital Playlist...but you know...between us three, it’s obvious who sets the bar, right?” This earns eye rolls from both Dr. Min and the other Dr. Kim. 

Pushing Dr. Seokjin towards the operating room, Dr. Yoongi turns to your group again, “Please ignore him. We’re actual licensed doctors…Hyung just…” Dr. Min sighs, rubbing at his temples, “...he says he doesn’t like attention but he keeps on doing humiliating things like these…” 

Dr. Seokjin, who’s already inside the operating room hallway, overhears Dr. Min’s words. “Hey! Why do you keep outing me like this?! Also, this appendectomy will just take a while - wait for me! I’m craving kalguksu today!”  

“Soomin...is it just me or everyone here has got to be damn attractive?” 

Jungkook leans in from behind, raising his eyebrows at you and Soomin. “Oh you guys weren’t aware that it was one of the qualifications before getting accepted into Woocheon? Kind of an unspoken rule really…” Jungkook remarks as he crosses his arms over his chest and you swear on your life you hadn’t taken a peek at the very distracting outline of his arms. 

Jimin who seems to agree with the idea wholeheartedly, places his fingers under his chin and wriggles his eyebrows wildly. 

Boys. 

Rolling your eyes at them, you retort, “You do realize that that only means we’re hot too.” likewise raising your shoulders at them. Soomin gives you a high five before flipping her hair towards the two. Jungkook gives you both a lopsided smirk in reply, “I’m not going to deny that.” 

Soomin grabs you by the elbow, turning both your backs to the boys behind you, “You sure you hate him, or you just can’t take the way he’s flirting with you?” 

© joontier 2021

[korpuskat]

Kinktober Day 18 - Omegaverse

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,571 Summary: You’ve spent years pretending you’re a Beta. One stray Quirk has that lie ripped away, thrown into heat... right in front of your leader, Shigaraki. Contains: mutual noncon, omegaverse; possessive Shigaraki, breeding, knotting,

For one moment, one moment that stretched on and on and on, you watch as Shigaraki’s eyes change. The haze slides between you, washes over his senses, and Tranquil’s Quirk does as promised: Shigaraki’s eyes fall half-lidded, mouth dropping open in a relaxed bliss, even as his eyes burn to stay focused.

The haze moves over you. And in that moment, you wish you’d been facing down Endeavor. A single, frantic inhale and it would all over.

All the years spent scouring suppressants off back-alley deals, dodging every Alpha that got too close, every governmental body that wanted so badly to stick its fingers into your life. All of it, it all comes crashing down in the face of one Hero, touted and praised for their Quirk: it’s fine, news anchors would assure the public, Warmth is perfectly safe, an immaculate nonviolent option for Alphas and Betas- no need to worry about that oh so rare Omega. If there’s a villainous Omega, surely they are already mated, have been mated since their first—

Warmth burns in your nose. “Tomura,” Your fist is in Shigaraki’s coat before you can think twice. You need to get out of here- and with your Leader half drifting pleasantly, you’ll have to drag him. But he doesn’t move, red sneakers glued to the pavement and you can’t hold your breath any longer.

It’s all over. One inhale- and it’s like spiced apple cider, the faint smoke off a burning log, thick and heavy and curling down, down, down inside you. The scent twists into your guts and for a moment, it is warmth. You think your face may match Shigaraki’s, that easy, smooth ecstasy- he turns towards you. His eyes look dulled, glassy- and his nostrils lift as he breathes in- expects to find firewood and cinnamon and instead, instead

Warmth explodes out, sparks the desperate embers in your body you’ve spent your entire life stomping out. Like a fire, it spreads through your veins, licks across every inch of your skin, and as it burns its way into your brain, you watch as your leader’s eyes shift. Twisting in confusion and then shrinking in shock, betrayal, understanding—- and just as the warmth warps into heat you watch as the pinpricks of his pupils expand out, widen until there’s only a thin ring of red left. Any trace of bliss is gone, left in ashes.

It takes you- and everything you’ve ever wanted to avoid happens at once. Slick pools between your legs, which give out. Your world narrows down and you can taste it. It’s not Warmth that scents the air, it’s you. Every face turns, every pro hero’s awareness centering on you: Omega, in heat, unmated.

The last strands of your sanity make you cry- one of them will take you, crush you down into an obedient little house omega, a breeder until there’s nothing left of you- and in the same moment you’re drooling, one hand pressed between your legs to alleviate the throbbing ache, spreading your knees wider in wordless prayer they’ll come, any of them, all of them, to fill you, to breed you, to fuck you until all you can do is cum and

One steps forward. A young Alpha, entranced by your scent, your need- and you meet his eyes, can’t stop the whine from rising in your throat, a warbling plea for mercy. You want him to stay away, to go away- he reaches for you-

A hand clamps over his wrist- deep, rumbling through the crowd is a truly primal, animalistic growl. His wrist crumbles away, the fear never overtaking desire in his eyes. Shigaraki turns towards the rest of the heroes, twisting his coat where your other hand still holds onto it, and dares them: ”Mine.”

The possessiveness makes your body want- and the last vestiges of your right mind are screaming out no no no because you don't want to be anybody's, not an Alpha's, not Shigaraki's. But his scent is strong, the musk of an Alpha ready to fight, to defend his brood- cedar and earth and a quiet tang of citrus and for all the careful control you've kept for years, your cunt oozes slick and ruts against your hand for any stimulation at all. Somehow- somehow this'll work out, you'll get away, Shigaraki won't-

You don’t have time to worry about it. A cool breeze blows up- up from below your knees. There’s no need to look down; even your lust-addled mind knows that misty feeling of Kurogiri’s warpgate. Gravity itself shifts and you’re falling, clutching desperately to the tail of Shigaraki’s coat. Above you now, the portal tightens as your leader falls through, the last glimpse of a sunny day obscured by Tranquil’s face. They open their mouth, perhaps to speak, but the warpgate cinches closed- cuts off their horrified expression. The bar’s stuffy air is nearly unscented. You wouldn’t even be able to tell on any other day, but now- now you’re too sensitive not to. The faint aroma from a half-drunk glass of whiskey, the sting of the chemicals in the cleaner Kurogiri uses for the counter (and Kurogiri, too, as the faint scent of dew) and there- there- like cinnamon in a burning campfire, like white powdered ash, like the stench of burnt flesh-

“The fuck’s going-” Dabi starts- and your gaze snaps to his. Those cerulean eyes shrink down and down, consumed by the black of his pupil as your heat-scent finds him.

The campfire scent sharpens- and you’re drooling, half a mind of not Dabi, please, not Dabi, half still signing out Alpha.

“Get out.” Shigaraki says- and the command, the dominance there makes your clit tingle.

“Tomura Shigaraki, are you-” Kurogiri speaks- and the rational part of your mind notes the continued evenness to his voice, how his scent is not warring with the other Alphas’, not a trace of dew in the air. Dabi takes a step forward-

and pine and earth and the sharp tingle of citrus explode out as Shigaraki roars, “Get out!” It leaves no question, neither other Alpha stupid enough to fight him. A flash of swirling purple smoke and they’re gone- and you’re alone with him. Alone, on the floor, one hand still curled into his coat, the other between your legs.

He looks down at you- and the last thin ring of crimson burns. On weak arms you shuffle back, cling to what reason is left. “Shi- Shigaraki, don’t.” His chest heaves- and he follows you as you crawl. “Please, I didn’t- I don’t want...”

“Oh?” He starts, his mouth up-turned, but not a speck of humor in his voice. “Tell me what you don’t want, Omega.“ You flinch as Shigaraki spits the word.

“You-” Shigaraki snarls as your voice breaks, “You don’t want to be mated either, re- remember? Gets in the way, you don’t want-”

He drops down- knees fall hard on either side of your hips- and one deadly hand finds your throat, every finger except one squeezing down until you’re wide-eyed and quiet. His voice rasps, the rut rising in him to meet your heat, that primal need to lay claim drowning out every long conversation you’d had- “Don’t tell me what I want.” The mix of fear and want has a weak whine rising in your throat, vibrating against his palm. Shigaraki leans down- and his scent overwhelms every sense, his musk warm and strong. It settles in your belly, mixes with your heat- against all wishes your thighs press together, give you anything at all to grind on as another wave of slick builds— and with that sweet, sour taste of citrus, of old clementines weaseling deeper in your brain, you bare your neck to him.

Shigaraki groans and the sound has you writhing, moaning, thrusting up against him desperation. The hand at your throat turns, keeps your face angled into his hair as his sharp noise presses against your scent gland. He breathes in deep and moans “You smell delicious.” His hips rock against the air, “Fucking hiding this from me? Little bitch Omega, just waiting to be bred, to be mated.” He nips at the gland, not deep enough to claim you, but enough to make stars burst in your eyes, the last remaining bits of your sober mind smothered by the all-consuming ache between your legs.

“Please, please, Tomura.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Shigaraki rips at your clothes, anything that doesn’t shred under his rut-driven strength ends up decayed, nothing more than frayed strings that cling to your body. Your underwear is the last barrier- and as he tears it free, the true power of your scent is overwhelming, even to you. The raw need of your slick soaks the ruined scrap of fabric- and Shigaraki holds it up to his nose, breathes in deep.

Moaning- and you don't even recognize it as your own until your legs are spreading before him, hooking over his hips. You shouldn't. You shouldn't be submitting to him, arching up and presenting your aching center- it's like a buzzing in the back of your brain that this isn't right, isn't what you want, but there's nothing you can do about it. Like your body is being controlled by someone else, some pervert that made you out to be the exact thing you'd feared, you'd been avoiding-

Drool slips from your lips as Tomura fumbles his own pants down- thick black sweatpants rucked around his thighs. His Alpha cock is everything you'd dreamed of, long and thick, the first trace of a knot already swelling along the base, like something out of your most shameful fantasies. The head slides through your slick, nudges along the underside of your swollen clit just once- and the needy rise of your hips has Tomura growling again, angling his cock down and-

He sinks in. As much as your heat has prepared your cunt to be used, it's still a stretch- a fullness of a real Alpha cock completely different than anything you'd imagined, anything your unmated body was ready for. Whimpers suffocate in your throat and you stare up at him, wide-eyed and shocked, floating aimlessly in the raw sensation of being complete for the first time. No, no, not complete, not yet, not without-

Shigaraki groans, eyes half lidded as he watches utterly rapt by the sight of his cock disappearing into your heat-slickened hole. His teeth bite into his cracked lower lip while eight fingers bite into your thighs. Shuddering, he murmurs in a voice you've never heard before, completely lost in his resultant rut, "Omega, my Omega..."

"Yours- only yours, Tomura." Your mouth says despite the buzzing, the ache between your eyes. A partner, a mate- some part of you lulls with the thought, soothes the burning need in your body. Someone to take care of you (someone to own you) and it's someone so powerful like Shigaraki, you'll be set, it's all you need, a strong mate.

And through it all his cock works in deeper, until the curve of his deflated knot sits at your entrance. He withdraws- and your hips chase him, lock your ankles behind his back to keep him close, a stranger's pathetic little pleas of "No, no, stay," falling from your mouth.

"Quiet." Shigaraki growls, feral and deep in his chest- the raw, irrational reaction of an Alpha being commanded by an unmated Omega. He wrenches your legs off him, takes them in an unforgiving grasp beneath your knees- and bends them back, all the way back until the insides of your thighs are aching, burning, you knees bouncing off your shoulders as he fucks you. A snap of his hips and the head of his cock finds the firm wall of your cervix. It rips a squeal from your throat- and a moan from his.

"Feel that?" He breathes, but doesn't wait for you to reply. The words spill from his mouth in a frantic rush- as though if he can't say them now he'll never get them out. "Gonna make you mine, fuckin' breed you. Gonna cum so deep in you, fill you up with my pups and- hnng" Silvery hair falls around you as his head drops forward, "I'm- I'm-"

He's so big, his cock so swollen in his rut that he can't miss; every stroke rubs on those sweet spots before pummeling your cervix- and with your heat- artificially started though it is- it doesn't even hurt. No, it just makes that primal part of your brain to scream out: yes, yes, yes, strong Alpha- "Tomura."

"Yes! Scream my name when you cum, when I claim you!"

Claim you, cl- claim you? Claim you? The word rattles in your head, makes a cold sweat bead at the base of your neck. Claim? The fog parts and you're hurtling towards an edge, towards something you can't come back from, can't avoid-

"N-no, wait." Your voice is small, weak, lost under Shigaraki's feral growling. "Don't, please."

It's too late. Shigaraki snarls, "Take it, take my knot!" His hips stutter, press hard against you- even without his knot it had been such a tight fit and now. All his weight bears down on the tight curl of your cervix, leaves no room for question: he forces your body to accommodate him. It's wrong- it's wrong- you don't want this- but your cunt opens up, relaxes, lets him nestle in deeper and-

His knot slips in.

It's instantaneous. Shigaraki moans so loud your ears vibrate, head lifting up towards the ceiling, showing his fast-fluttering pulse under the long scars of his neck. His cock throbs deep inside you, gushing cum right against your womb. It's primal, involuntary; his knot swells, inflates with each gravelly moan until it's locked in place, keeps his pelvis pressed hard against your clit. Your cunt clenches, body desperate to draw his seed in ever deeper, the instinctual need to be used and bred and you're cumming, twitching around him. Tear well in your eyes as the heat haze clears by a fraction with your binding.

His mouth drops open fully for just a moment and you spot them. For one single heartbeat you're afraid-

and Shigaraki's head drops forward. His teeth sink in and in and in over your neck and you're screaming. If it's yes or no you can't even tell, lost to the burn in your throat, in your shoulder as his fangs split flesh. Pain is all you feel, unable to push him off as blood wells up, spills hot over your skin and then- and then it's not.

It's a light that turns on in your brain. Like an applause sign, a cue that, no, it shouldn't hurt, you should be clapping, screaming. Lag, a loading screen as your body processes the unspoken command from Tomura's teeth- and the weak little orgasm explodes. Raw liquid pleasure whites out everything except Alpha and knot. Where you had been trembling, you're near spasming, every limb lost to the rhythmic full-body contractions- your clit so achingly sensitive pulsing against wiry, silver hairs. Your nails bite into his shoulders and you want to hurt him, scrape deep red marks- and from the moan that reverberates, bubbles in your blood, you don't think he minds at all.

Tomura collapses over you, releases his hold on the backs of your knees, lets them flop down on either side of his hips once more. They twitch from time to time, weak little spasms in response to the subtle shifting of his cock, of his torso against your overstimulated body. Blood oozes from his shoulders, soaks into the loose collar of his shirt. He doesn't move, at least not intentionally- keeps his face pressed to the side of your throat, lazily licking and kissing the deep, still-bleeding bonding wound.

You sniffle, turn away- and to your disgust, can't bring yourself to shove him off you. No, his soft licks keep you shivering, keeps raw dopamine and oxytocin pulsing in your veins. With bloody fingertips you card through his hair, reveal one pale, dry ear through the heavy waves of his unbrushed hair. Tomura. Your Alpha. You- you were mated. A fresh surge of tears blurring your vision until you have to pull back to run at your face.

His lifts his head then. Even with your bleary eyes you can tell he's still half out of it, unsure what's actually happened. Sweat has left his hair sticking to his scarred, cracked face, but it's your blood smeared over his lips and chin. Tomura begins to speak- but all that comes out is a hoarse rasp. He blinks, surprised by his own voice, and tries again, "Crying?" There's a kind of annoyance with it, the familiarity of your leader's abrasiveness, his inexperience with emotion. It's too close to the Shigaraki you trusted before-

Your lips twist, press hard together until your chin dimples in an effort to keep yourself from sobbing outright. Tomura blinks slowly- and a cool thumb brushes over your cheek, interrupts one tear's track. Your voice is small, childlike. "You bit me. Marked me."

He blinks again, like the words are tumbling around in his brain, not quite reaching where they need to go- and he looks down. The haze is gone in a flash, lust-blown pupils narrowing down in shock as he mutters a "Fuck." low under his breath. The hand at your cheek touches your neck, stretches the pierced skin there as he licks his lips- only to flinch and touch his mouth, come away with even more crimson on his fingertips. "Fuck."

He's pushing off you and just like that the post-bonding affection dries up. He's nearly back to his knees when he pulls his hips back- pain lances through your lower half, makes your legs latch to his waist again with a pitiful wail of "Stoooop."

Tomura flinches. The animal comfort of his body returns, awkwardly tucking one arm beside you while the other hovers, frets between your bleeding neck, your tear-stained cheeks, and awkward touches to your hair. He's never done this before. It's apparent enough in his shaking, restrained caresses, must be from the bond, the need to comfort his wounded mate. It makes you sick, this is not the same Shigaraki you knew before and this time, biting your lips does not stop the sob that racks your body.

"Stop." He demands, sharp and mean. It's your turn to flinch, ducking your face away from him- and Tomura softens, tries again. "Stop crying." He licks his lips again, tries to stroke his thumb over your cheek. "We'll- we'll deal with this. It'll be fine."

He doesn't want this either. The thought makes your tears slow, makes you turn back towards your leader's- your mate's frantic eyes. Tomura didn't want to be mated, was too busy plotting the end of society itself to give a shit about mating. Hell, he'd complained about-

"I'll... I'll have Kurogiri get something. For... this." He winces at his own words, but nods towards your body anyway. You nod along with him. "It's fine. Better each other than an outsider, anyway. I killed one, didn't I? One of those heroes who tried to take you, my- my Omega-" He sneers at his own mouth, the phrase still odd on his tongue. "What are you smiling at?"

You hadn't even realize you were smiling. the tears still rolling over your cheeks. You sniff, touch his shoulders. He stiffens at the touch- even with his cock knotted inside you, his cum lodged deep inside, that distrust runs too deep to shake immediately. "You don't have to go to that horrible rut house again."

"What?" One eye narrows as though you've spoken gibberish.

You shrug one shoulder, deflate a little. The collar to his shirt ripples as you fidget with it. "Looking on the bright side."

Tomura stops, stares at you. Your lips twist in the silence, feel bad for making light of it all. It's serious, after all- the little wins don't make up for and you expect Tomura's scowl to return, but it doesn't. He doesn't move for a long moment, before he lifts one hand and touches his still-elongated teeth. Around his hand his mutters, "The teeth caps tasted like cough syrup."

You grin, at that, feel another tear trickle past. "Don't even have to use them at all anymore."

Tomura hums, lowers his face down to your shoulder again, runs his pointy nose along your throat and breathes in your scent. It hadn't yet changed to reflect his, still fresh, untainted Omega in heat. "The Betas there never smelled this good, either..." A shiver shoots down your spine as he kisses the bitemark. He scoffs, then adds, "You don't have to buy suppressants anymore either."

You sniffle, but find your vision clearing up as you peer down at him. "My bank account should thank you."

A snort is the only response he gives you, pleased to tuck himself in close to you. Your hand slides under the collar of his shirt, down along his back, nails dragging over every knob of his spine you can reach. "You're not the worst option." He says against your collarbone, muffled as his eyelashes brush over your skin.

You hum and touch his hair, stroke the silky strands behind his ear. "Yeah, you too."