#this is another slightly older render

[kiryuspcktracer]

more tachikiryu yaaaaay ❤

[mrskokushibo]

Wrong?

Muzan x fem!reader x Yoriichi

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, dub con, threesome, watching corn, very NSFW, 18+. Modern AU. 7k words.

Summary: Your boyfriend Muzan is a star, and you love being his girl. But the man has needs that you have been neglecting for a while. Tonight will start a chain of events that will have you asking yourself if sex and love in a relationship truly should be inseparable?

A/N: I loved creating this storyline. This is a request from a friend. The only thing she asked for was Muzan's girlfriend falling for Yoriichi. It's one of my favourite stories to write - I got to spread my creative wings.

Masterlist

The club was full tonight, hosting the release party for a new book by one of the most prominent writers in the city. The venue was an old factory building, stylishly renovated with a mixture of white rendered walls, exposed brick, and steel structure, decorated with an eclectic and carefully curated selection of furniture ranging from sleek Scandinavian design armchairs to rococo sofas and chandeliers.

A place that quickly became a favourite with the cultural circles of the city. It was also the home of a popular nightclub on the weekends as well as the venue of choice for a society hosting slightly, well, different types of events, namely invitation-only orgies, that your boyfriend and subsequently yourself were always invited to, but had to decline due to your unwillingness to participate in anything like that.

Tonight’s event was the kind you gladly accompanied him to. As always on such occasions, your boyfriend Muzan Kibutsuji was one of the guests of honour. He was a young star writer, specialising in dark horror and fantasy, having sold over a million copies of his first novel at the tender age of twenty-three. Now, five years later and with another few million books sold, he was among the literary elites. He also had a background in acting, although there was a veil of mystery as to what type of movies, he was in.

You too were a writer and the two of you met at a seminar hosted by your favourite Japanese superstar novelist. Well, you would be lying to yourself if you thought you actually were a professional writer, more of an aspiring writer, really. Your studies and work took up most of your time, so the only writing you did was manga and anime fanfiction. Yes, you felt very inadequate at these parties, but you quickly adjusted to assuming the role of the supportive and devoted girlfriend of the literary star.

And tonight, was no different. You wore a brand new, figure-hugging little black dress and high-heeled thigh-high leather boots. Simple, but sexy. For the last half hour, you were standing idly sipping your champagne, while Muzan was involved in a heated debate with some older, seemingly unimpressed author and his artist friends. You were a little tipsy and were hugging Muzans arm all the while he was busy talking.

He was such a hottie, you thought, you saw the envious looks on the faces of his female colleagues every time he brought you with him to any event. Yes, you could consider yourself lucky. His looks were striking, as he was essentially an albino, meaning his eyes were red and his hair white and wavy, but he always coloured it black. The monochromatic colour combination together with his masculine yet defined and delicate features gave him an exotic and almost out-of-earthly aura. His muscular arms were covered with intricate black gothic tattoos (he had tattoos in other, more intimate places too) and he sported a tongue piercing. His style was a bit steampunk blended with hard rock, he looked good in suits and ripped jeans alike. And he stood almost six feet tall.

The boredom of just standing around was slowly leaving room for thoughts other than literature, you were getting a little horny, to be completely honest with yourself. You were into your third glass of champagne and were slightly tipsy, the ambient rhythmic music, warm dimmed lighting, and the buzz of people talking were putting you into a pleasant lull, making your senses pliable and receptive to new impressions.

Out of nowhere, you started to imagine what it would be like when an orgy is hosted here… the throaty moans and high-pitched squealing of female pleasure mixed with the deep raspy grunts of the men, loud screams of people climaxing and the wet, squelching pounding of flesh against flesh. You could picture naked bodies, bodies in provocative lingerie, illuminated and glossy in the warm light of the chandeliers. It is almost as if you now suddenly were curious about it…

And that is when you noticed him. That other man. He was standing in the middle of the room deep in a conversation with a group of young people. His appearance stood out in the crowd, he was very tall, probably well over six feet, maybe six feet three, with an athletic build. His hair was long and black, tied in a ponytail with cascades of shorter bangs framing his face. Red highlights illuminated his layered hair. He was dressed in tight black jeans and an equally tight black t-shirt, and was wearing long earrings with what looked like the rising sun. There was a strange red mark on his left temple, a birthmark maybe? You could not help it, but you found yourself staring at his bulging biceps every time he lifted his beer to his lips. You were amused with how boredom brought out such primitive instincts in you. You were interrupted by Muzan who nudged you gently,

‘Would you like another drink?’ 

‘Yes, please’ you replied.

He walked away to the bar while texting someone and smirking. He came back with drinks only to find a new group of colleagues taking his attention. So… you proceeded with your little dirty pastime. Suddenly, the man looked in your direction, a dark maroon gaze piercing straight through you. You froze, and at the same time, a familiar heat was starting to spread in your belly. Wetness was pooling between your legs and you were thanking yourself for wearing panties tonight.

He looked away again, but then his gaze was constantly seeking yours for the rest of the evening. When it was time for you and Muzan to leave, while walking past the group with the gorgeous object of your attention, he suddenly looked you up and down and gave you the most lust-filled gaze you could imagine. You were so stunned you kept on staring at him, your head turning back in his direction while you were leaving the room.

The ride home proceeded in awkward silence; you have never seen Muzan in such a strange mood. When you entered the penthouse, you slouched on the sofa and closed your eyes. You were a little tired from all the impressions, especially that specific one… You opened your eyes feeling the presence of your boyfriend. He was standing in front of you holding handcuffs. ‘Move to the armchair’ he commanded in a deep, raspy whisper, the way he almost hissed the words sent a chill down your spine. ‘What now?’ you thought puzzled.

‘I saw what you were doing all night. You were staring at that man like a shameless slut.’

His words were true, you were indeed staring, but so what, this came from the man who suggested attending orgies in the past.

Perplexed, you retaliated: ‘Am I not allowed to look at people anymore?’

‘Oh, my love, you were not just looking, you were eye-fucking him. Do you think I cannot tell the difference?’

You swallowed and obediently moved to the armchair.

He placed your arms on the rests and slowly cuffed each of them to the furniture. Then he picked up the remote and turned on the projector. What was instantaneously visualized on the screen went straight to your sex. It was a close-up of a man and a woman fucking, with loud, obscene moans serving as the soundtrack. The camera started slowly to move away from the copulating pair and the back of the male came into full view, intricate tattoos spreading over his back like a veil of black lace and long, wavy white hair snaking down his neck and shoulders while his hips were rhythmically moving back and forth to slam his dick into the woman. When the camera moved to show the front of him your heart nearly stopped, the red pupils staring intently at the woman he was railing, that face…. It was Muzan. So that was the acting career he was so mysterious about.

In the meantime, Muzan was in the kitchen part of the open-plan living space, texting someone. You were both completely silent while the sounds of sex were filling the space. A few moments later and a pair of now completely soaking wet panties, the doorbell rang. Muzan walked over to open it. His face was adorned with a mischievous smile as he glanced your way. What happened next was something you did not expect and that started an unstoppable chain of events.

The person Muzan let in the apartment was a woman, a petite blond with hair all the way down to her round ass, dressed in a sleeveless skin-tight latex dress, that showed off her large (most presumably) fake silicone breasts. A real little sex kitten. Muzan led her to the sofa and sat down spreading his legs so that she could kneel between them.

He parted her pouting pink lips with his index finger and slid it deep into her mouth while she released a throaty moan, he then pulled the finger out stroking her bottom lip, only to pump the finger back into her mouth even deeper this time while rotating it. His other hand slid down her dress off her breasts and started slowly caressing them, making her moan even harder. He was pinching her nipples, making her perfect little body arch in pleasure, and looking even hotter. All the while her small manicured hands were stroking his crotch and after her back arched from overstimulation, she unzipped his pants and gently pulled out his now fully erect, hard cock. She was stroking it gently and licking the sensitive tip.

Eventually, she sank her head down on the full length, stretching her shiny, pink lips, gagging a little, and continuing to bob her head up and down on his thick length. His dick was large, so that most of the time she was only getting half of it in her mouth with the rest of the shaft treated to a pumping motion by her delicate hands. He threw his head back; you could tell he was close. Her moans were getting louder too and a few moments later he grabbed her by her ponytail and the back of her head and shoved her down into his groin while bucking his hips upwards. The woman gagged heavily, the sound wet and sloppy. He climaxed.

Once he was finished, he let her head go and she slowly pulled away, gasping for air, with spit and cum connecting her mouth to his penis. She looked him in the eye with a submissive almost grateful look. He was still stroking her breasts, while she was licking up all the cum from her lips and sucking his cock clean. And then, just like that she adjusted her clothes, got up, threw him a little kiss, and walked out of the apartment. The porno on the screen was playing all the while this was happening adding to the already surreal and loaded atmosphere.

You were too stunned to even think, let alone say anything. ‘What the fuck did you just witness?’

Without a word Muzan got up from the sofa and walked up to you, his dick still hanging out of his pants. He knelt in front of you and put his hands on your soft thighs, slowly kneading them up towards your crotch. His hands were getting closer and closer to your wet lips and finally they reached your soaked g-string. Muzan started rubbing you through the wet fabric with two fingers.

‘Fuck you are wet. Such a whore you are, getting wet from watching other people fuck. You are a dirty little kitten, aren’t you?’

You were too ashamed to answer, ashamed that something so wrong and apparently hurtful aroused you. You should have been turning your head away, yelling at him, crying even. But all you did was watch… and get wet.

‘You see, my love, when people get jealous, they sometimes stop thinking, they do stupid things. Do you think, what I did was stupid? Hm? But, you know, I got jealous, very jealous. And when you have been such a prude with me for so long, never wanting to do the things I thought we should do and then go drooling after other men, what do you think I should have done?’ His voice was raspy and menacing, but also filled with lust.

Muzan’s fingers were now slowly spreading your labia and rubbing up and down between your slick-soaked folds. You were so wet, his actions created small squelching sounds. He added another finger and slowly worked his way into your dripping pussy, crooking a finger and pumping in with small circular movements that made your muscles clench around him. He then spread your labia and moved in to lick you between your legs. His was giving you long and slow, gentle licks all the way on the very inside of your labia, you could feel the metal of his tongue piercing leaving a streak of extra pressure and thus enhanced sensation on the thin strips of flesh it was touching.

Gradually, he started to increase the force with which he was working his tongue on you. Wherever the piercing pressed on your sensitive flesh, it was exerting extra pressure on your nerves. When he finally reached your clitoris and started circling around it and occasionally skilfully flicking his tongue so that the piercing would hit the sensitive nub, your thighs were sent into convulsions of pleasure. You were starting to edge, your climax so close yet his actions not decisive enough to grant you release. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, while he was flicking his tongue over your clit while all the while pumping his fingers into your pussy. You were so close; you were drooling and tears started to form in your eyes.

‘Muzan, please let me come, I’m so close’ you were moaning and squealing and when you thought he was increasing his pace, he suddenly pulled away and started uncuffing you.

‘Go down on all four for me doll.’

 You did what he asked you to, as you were so greedy to come. You now had the porno in full view in front of you and there he was on the screen fucking two women now, one riding his face and the other his dick. Watching that made you so fucking aroused. It was wrong, but you could not help reacting to it in the way you did. You felt like an animal, driven only by instinct at this point.

Without a word, he spread your ass cheeks and aligned his hard tip at your entrance, and soon his thick girth was pumping in and out of your pussy, wet, sloppy, indecent sounds of the two of you fucking on top of the vulgar sounds coming from the porno were filling the otherwise so elegant and relaxing space of your shared apartment. He was thrusting so hard that with every move you were being sent forwards with so much force that eventually your whole upper body was flat on the soft rug with him pressing down your back with his hand. He increased the pressure, supporting himself almost fully on you, and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

‘I will now come inside you my little whore, I will breed you, because you are my very own whore, I bet you would like to carry my little brat, would you?’

With that he increased the pace and strength of his thrusts, you were clenching around him, desperate to come. His hips and lower abdomen were now pressed flush to your round soft ass and you could eventually feel his lower abs contract indicating his release. His orgasm must have been a big one as he growled while pushing himself in you and releasing a huge load of cum into your fluttering insides.

‘Fuck you were good, kitten. I will sleep so well now.’

He pulled out, stood up and grabbed the remote to turn off the movie, and left for the bathroom. You were left high and dry, or so you thought anyway…

When you entered the bedroom Muzan was seated in the chair lounge next to the lit fireplace and opposite of your shared bed, fully dressed sipping on a glass of single malt whisky. The flame was making his eyes look almost devilish.

‘Here you are. I think you do deserve to come after all, we do not want you to lose sleep, do we?’

There was something so menacing in his voice, something that was hitting all the submissive notes in your entire being.

‘Undress for me, doll’

Without hesitation, you started to take your clothes off.

‘All of it, now!’ He commanded.

You did as you were told.

‘Now. Lay down on the bed so I can see between your legs. Play with yourself for me, make yourself come.’

There was nothing else to do, but to obey and you already felt like you were in a trance, as if nothing of this was real. You laid down and started to flick your nipple and got your imagination ready, and the fantasy that was helping you get off involved the tall man from the party, your only invisible act of defiance against your boyfriend. You imagined him seated on a sofa at the party, with everyone watching while you came up to him and straddled him shamelessly. What followed made you move your hand down between your legs and masturbate. Your fingers were doing their skilled and experienced work and very soon you came. Your orgasm was intense, with waves of pleasure causing your body to arch and convulse, you released a small scream and when the waves of pleasure finally flowed away, you were just lying there, limp with soaking wet fingers and pussy. You licked your fingers dry and closed your eyes.

A harsh yank to your chin shook you out of your bliss. You opened your eyes and the only thing in your line of sight was Muzan’s cock.

‘Open your mouth for me now, sweetheart’

The gentle words were in such stark contrast to what he was about to do because as soon as you opened your mouth, he grabbed you by your neck and shoved himself fully into your mouth, making you gag. He stayed like this for a few seconds, savouring how deep inside your throat his dick was seated, and rotated his hips a little. Then he slowly pulled out, only to slam himself into you again, and again and again, until you were a gagging, drooling mess with tears and mascara running down your cheeks. He pulled out, drool connecting your mouth to his dick, and lifted your head up by yanking you up at your ponytail.

‘I think this is a good look for you, isn’t it, doll? My submissive little kitten, so sweet and obedient. ‘

He shoved himself in you again and this time kept on going until you could feel his muscles spasm and the warm, salty liquid filled your mouth and throat. He pumped into you a few extra times before pulling out. You swallowed most of the cum, but there was still some left on his cock.

‘Clean me up.’

You licked his dick clean and he lifted your head by the chin, so very gently now.

‘Hm, we will both sleep well after this, won’t we?’

And he placed the gentlest of kisses on your lips and went into the bathroom to clean himself up. You followed suit, but you knew you would most likely not sleep all too well, still trying to come to terms with what he has done in front of you with that woman, as well as trying to grasp how in the hell was it your fault. Was he really the jealous type?

The following day began with Muzan getting up and making you both coffees. He behaved as if last night did not happen, something that confused and infuriated you even more. Since it was your day off, you decided to head over to the gym to clear your head and hopefully figure out your next move. Both you and Muzan frequented the same gym in the neighbourhood, the gym was large, but with a relaxed atmosphere. There was also a martial arts dojo in conjunction with it that Muzan went to occasionally, but you never showed any interest in.

As soon as you entered the gym, you nearly froze in your steps. There, next to the reception desk was the man from the party, chatting casually with one of the personal trainers. You stalling in your movement caught his attention and he looked straight at you and waved. As if hypnotised you started slowly walking toward him and finally stopped in front of the man. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up to look at his face.

‘Hi,’ you blurted out.

‘I didn’t know you went to this gym?’

You kept on rambling as if the two of you were already introduced. He looked at you with slight amusement.

‘Yes, I do, and I believe I saw you at the party last night, yes?’

‘Yes.’ You nodded like the idiot you were. For every minute feeling more and more awkward.

‘Well, I guess we should have a proper introduction then. My name is Yoriichi’. He stretched out his hand.

‘Y/n’ you said with overdriven courage as you placed your hand in his large one for a courteous handshake.

‘Excuse me, boss, can you please sign this?’ the two of you were interrupted by an employee of the gym coming up to Yoriichi with some papers. You looked at him and asked surprised.

‘Oh, you work here?’

‘Yes, actually I kind of happen to own the place’ he answered shyly, scratching his head and blushing a little.

While he was busy flipping through the pages you could not help yourself but eye him off discretely and what you saw was waking up the most basic instincts in you. He was wearing cotton tracksuit pants and a singlet in a thin functional material, that showed off his huge toned arms. The outline of his pecs and abs were visible through the thin fabric, you also noted he had powerful, strong thighs, as the fabric of the track pants was stretched at the thickest part of his thigh muscles. You could not help to throw a glance at his shapely glutes and strong hips. When you thought about it, he really had the appearance of some ancient warrior, a samurai maybe. You swallowed quietly, an action he caught you in the middle of.

‘Well, I am done here. I will be taking the rest of the afternoon off today, so I guess I will see you around sometime?’ He spoke.

You just could not let him disappear like this. You gathered your courage and asked

‘Would you have time for a quick coffee then? I changed my mind and will work out later today.’

He studied you for a moment and answered.

‘Why not, actually? I do have the whole day to myself. There is a good café nearby’

You nodded and the two of you started walking out of the gym, him courteously opening the door for you. Luckily, the café really was nearby. You were enjoying your coffee and the casual conversation, but when your fingers met when reaching out for napkins, the two of you went silent almost simultaneously. The truth was that all through the friendly, harmless exchange you were imagining fucking Yoriichi, riding his cock, and touching him in a way that was anything but just friendly. The look in his maroon eyes was starting to reveal something more as well now.

And maybe he could pick up on your feelings because the tension between the two of you was becoming palpable. You were soaking wet between your legs and your breathing was becoming heavy, your arousal was powerful: the contraction of the muscles of your vagina started to feel more and more like a rope being tightly twisted into a knot, and this sensation was now spreading up to your cervix making your insides feel like they were on fire.

He sucked in his lips before finally speaking up.

‘You know, I live just around the corner if you would like to have … some lunch with me.’

As if in a trance you answered

‘Yes, I would like that’

But you already knew what you really would like and sensed that this was something he would like as well…

As soon as you stepped into the elevator, he came closer to you and kissed your lips. Very lightly at first, but as soon as he felt you reciprocate the action, he drew you closer to him and the kiss became deeper, with tongues swirling deep in each other’s mouths. He was holding his hips away from yours for now, most likely due to an increasing hard-on, he was a gentleman after all, and did not want to impose that soon.

His hands were caressing your back and your body started tingling in pleasure. He was so big, you felt cradled and sheltered, and his warm smell was like a feast for your senses. The elevator reached his floor and he led you into his apartment. It was a bright and beautiful space, cradled in light from the large windows, decorated in oriental, presumably Japanese fashion, with tatamis, low large futon like sofas, beautiful prints of Sakura trees and diverse martial arts weaponry adorning the walls.

He closed the door behind him and swiftly had you up against the nearest wall. He lifted you by your buttocks and you wrapped your legs around his hips. All the while you were entangled in a passionate kiss. He lifted you up and started walking toward the bedroom. When he sat you down on the bed, you began to remove each other’s clothes. His body was even more magnificent naked, and the cock looked… huge. Almost uncomfortably huge.

Yoriichi started crawling on the bed and on top of you, his large body towering over you and making you gasp. His warmth, his smell, it was all so close to you and all you wanted was to drown in him, let him devour you and fuck you senseless. He lowered his hips so they were flush with yours between your legs and started rubbing your wet folds and clit. You were moaning in pleasure. With the other hand, he started massaging your breasts and playing with your hard nipples. You were arching your body and moaning shamelessly.

‘Please fuck me, I want to feel you inside me.’

He did not hesitate to fulfill your plea. Aligning the tip of his cock with the entrance to your sopping-wet pussy, he started to enter you.

He was big, almost too big for your small body to take. Slowly and steadily, he was prying his way into you. Every nerve in your core was pulsing, welcoming this new intruder with increasing wetness and spasming muscles. Your pussy was clenching on him so hard that he was quietly groaning while pushing on into you. He finally bottomed out and lifted himself off you slightly to meet your gaze. His gorgeous maroon eyes now clouded in pleasure, he said softly,

‘I will start moving now, do you feel ready?’

Did you ever… ‘Of course,’ was all you could say in a weak voice.

Slowly, at a languid pace, he began to rhythmically pump into you, his hips hitting yours every time he was bottoming out. You have never been this stretched out in your life, his girthy, long cock literally moulding your velvet walls to its shape, hitting your cervix with every slow pump. You were starting to edge, with the sensitive spots deep inside you being stimulated nearly constantly now. He kept on going like this for a while making your eyes roll to the back of your head and drool running down the side of your mouth.

‘Yoriichi, can you go a little faster? I am about to come’ you moaned out to him, as you could not control yourself any longer. The knot inside you running all the way from your opening to the tip of your cervix, was about to burst.

He picked up the pace and soon enough you were slowly dissolving into your climax, your whole body shaking and spasming from the intense pleasure you were gifted. You were so wet now, your cum seeping down your thighs onto Yoriichi. He shuffled himself up slightly and put you in a mating press. His cock was even deeper inside you, he started chasing his own release. His pace increased and soon it was ruthless and fast, abusing your cervix and every overstimulated spot deep inside you. You could feel his heavy balls slam into you with every powerful thrust. The man had the stamina of a god and went on in this unforgiving tempo for quite a while.

Gradually, his thrusts were getting sloppy and when he finally came, filling you up with his warm semen, he bottomed out deep inside you, his hips pushing you up toward the headrest of the bed and staying like this for a couple of seconds. He then pumped into you a few times, following the movement of his spasming abdomen muscles. When he stopped, he sank his head, still hovering over you supported on stretched-out straight arms. Sweat was running down his chest. He slowly rolled over on his back, taking you with him in an embrace that placed you laying down straight on top of him.

And that is when you noticed a presence in the room. You turned your head around towards the doorway and to your shock and surprise you saw your boyfriend stand there, leaning on the door frame with arms crossed and head tilted backwards in a brattish manner. His hair was out and cascading down his shoulder in black ringlets.

‘I hope I am not interrupting. Do you mind if I join in?’ He asked with a smirk. You instantly wondered how long he was there watching you and Yoriichi fucking.

‘Please do, unless y/n has some objections?’ Yoriichi said and tilted your head up to look at him. ‘Are you ok with this, y/n? ‘

‘I guess I don’t mind’ You did not really know what to say, your sex seemingly dictating your choices for you since last night.

‘Good, this will be fun.’ Muzan said and started to get undressed.

In the meantime, Yoriichi moved to his side and let you down on the soft mattress, so that you were on your side facing him. With an already erect dick bobbing in front of him, Muzan walked over to where you and Yoriichi were and crawled into bed to lie down behind you. He kissed and licked your neck, you could feel the metal of the piercing dragging on your soft skin, and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it gently, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. He then leaned into your ear and with a deep, soft whisper asked:

‘How did you like him, doll? Was he big enough for you?’

He kept on kissing your neck and dragging the pierced tongue along it and massaging your body with his hand while pressing his erect cock in your soft ass. Yoriichi at the very same time started kissing your mouth and rubbing your breasts.

You did not think it was at this stage possible to get more aroused, but you did. Your pussy was aching so badly now, all you wanted was for the men to give it to you. Rough, fast however they wished to fuck you. You wanted to feel full, the craving growing for every minute making your insides burn with need. The sensation of both these attractive men being so close to you, their hands touching every part of your body, was making you feral, totally wild with anticipation. Seeing and feeling the athletic, tall, and big Yoriichi, with his smooth and glossy skin and your exotic-looking, tattoo-covered and pierced boyfriend so close to your own body was a sensation that was driving you crazy. It was almost as you were a goddess worshipped at the altar of lust.

‘How do you think we should proceed?’ Muzan asked Yoriichi in a playful tone.

‘Hmm, where we are is good, no offense, but I am the bigger one here, so I think it is best if you go in the backway’ Yoriichi answered.

Muzan sighed and smirked. ‘Good point, do you happen to have lube around here?’ Yoriichi stretched an arm behind him to reach under the bed and pulled out a bottle of anal lube.

‘You dirty fuck, this looks like you have been having some fun’ Muzan noted as the bottle was only half full.’ Yoriichi did not answer to that but his smile said it all.

While Yoriichi was working on your pussy and breasts, Muzan poured a fair bit of lube on your opening and started to massage your puckering hole. Slowly and gently, the sensation was so different from anything you ever experience before, but so delicious at the same time. He slowly pushed in a finger and was circling it gently. A second finger came in and he was scissoring them inside you. Yoriichi was now lining himself up to enter you again. His hard tip rubbing between your folds as Muzan added another finger and was whispering sweet, honey-glazed words in your ears in order to get you relaxed.

‘Be a good kitten for me now, such a gorgeous little obedient doll, I will spread that tight little ass for you and you will beg me for more’

The sweetness in his voice was almost demeaning. He kept on pumping his fingers in you, but you just could not relax.

‘Baby, I can’t do it. Not today. Can we do something else?’

Muzan pulled out his fingers out of you and nodded at Yoriichi

‘Well, doll, in such case you will have to take that huge dick of his down your throat, because I want to be in one of your holes, no matter what.’

You shifted to all four and Yoriichi knelt in front of you offering you his cock. You started licking the leaking tip and pumping the shaft with your small hand, barely getting a proper grip. In the meantime, Muzan positioned himself behind you and all of a sudden slammed his dick into you. This propelled you forward and you almost speared yourself on Yoriichi’s cock, swallowing nearly the entire length. He groaned from the sensation and you gagged heavily. Once the two of you adjusted positions so that you could comfortably work on his dick, Muzan started moving his hips into you again. You worked with the rhythm he was setting as there was no use trying to stay still and resisting his movement from pushing you forward. Every time his hips slammed into you, you sank your mouth over Yoriichi’s cock and you continued like this for a good while.

Your mouth and throat were stretched almost to the brink of discomfort from the huge girth and length. The pleasure you felt from Muzan repeatedly hitting your g-spot was making you moan louder and louder and your moans were sending vibrations through Yoriichi’s dick making it twitch and grow.

‘I’m going to come soon’ he groaned.

He pulled out of you, gave his cock a few pumps and unloaded the content of his balls in your face, warm cum spraying into your open mouth and down your chin and throat. Neither you nor Muzan were far off from your orgasms either. It took a few more fast thrusts from him to make your knot burst and you reaching your release. And a few more thrusts later and Muzan was spraying his cum into your still fluttering walls. The amount of pleasure you experience this afternoon was overwhelming and you collapsed exhausted, but utterly satisfied on the mattress.

Yoriichi got up and came back with a few towels. He helped you clean up your face and handed a towel to Muzan who then cleaned you and yourself up. Yoriichi was the first one to go to the bathroom and have a shower and after him, it was Muzan’s turn. Once the two men were decent again, Yoriichi informed you that they would prepare lunch so that you would have some time to yourself to recover and relax. You spent half an hour in the bedroom and went out to them, still in a complete state of confusion.

‘Hi there. I hope you are hungry.’ Yoriichi said.

‘I seem to have cooked too much pasta, but hey, we need the energy’ he grinned broadly. ‘By the way, I think you owe your lovely girlfriend an explanation’ he said turning to Muzan.

‘Yes, you are right. It is about time to clarify the situation. Sorry to have confused you and sorry for the bit with Amber, I might have gone a bit too far there. You know when I got up to get the drinks at the party? I noticed that you were eyeing off Yoriichi for a while, and out of the blue, and boredom, I came up with a wicked little plan. Something to shake you up and make you more, adventurous. I really wanted to get you out of your shell. So, I texted him quickly what I had in mind and off we went. I am storyteller, after all.’

You turned to Yoriichi, slightly disappointed

‘So… you were not really attracted to me, hey? It was just a game?’

Yoriichi responded ‘Oh no, not at all. Muzan showed me picturess of you many times before and I must say I was envious of him being with someone so smart, kind, and attractive. So, when he suggested this, the idea went straight to my dick.’

Muzan now continued: ‘Amber, that girl, by the way, is a porn actress and married to a friend of mine. They own an adult movie production company together and I have known them both for a while. But back to the story. As I said, I wanted you to see that there is so much more to life than being a prude, that sex is one of the most indulgent pleasures gifted upon mankind and not immersing ourselves fully in that gift is, well, a sin in my eyes.'

'I do believe that deep emotional love, a connection of souls runs deeper than any physical connection ever can. We are all animals and sex is dirty and amazing at the same time, the ultimate tool to express love, yes, but love can exist without it if you know what I mean. I will love you forever, for all eternity. I believe we are soulmates and we are connected and will always be drawn to each other in every world we are born into. Even if we never have sex again, I want you to be mine and mine only. When you want kids and a house with a white picket fence or whatever dream you may have, we will do it, of course. But for now, while we still are young let us indulge in what this carnal world has to offer. I want you to lose all restraints, and fulfill all your desires. When I saw you looking at our glorious friend here, I knew that if that is what you are into, I will make sure you get what you desire.’

When Muzan finally went quiet, it was Yoriichi’s turn to speak and he suddenly went serious.

‘I have known Muzan for a long time, but our friendship blossomed after my wife died. He was there for me all the way through my lowest. And believe me, it was an epic low. She was pregnant with what was to be our first child when she died in a car crash. Some drunken asshole drove into her car on the highway. My beloved wife and I started the gym and later the martial arts dojo together. These were our passions and I will never love anyone like I loved her ever again. All I have left is the gym and dojo and they are like babies to me. I am no monk and need sex, a lot of it, but only for recreation.’

All the time Yoriichi was speaking, Muzan held his arm around your back, his embrace tightening when Yoriichi mentioned the tragic story of his marriage.

‘Well, enough of the seriousness. Let us eat’ Yoriichi interrupted himself now.

You could not help to notice, that he was not the best of cooks, the pasta was slightly overcooked and the sauce too salty, but it was a sweet gesture of him to cook for his friends and by the way you were starving after everything that was happening for the past twenty-four hours. The wine he served with lunch was on the other hand fantastic and after a couple of glasses, the warm, fuzzy feeling of slowly getting tipsy was putting you in a relaxed state.

Looking at the two amazing men, you now started to understand what your boyfriend was talking about and wanted for you all the way. The normal scenario would involve you having to choose one of them, there would be drama, heart-brake and the euphoria of new love would eventually dim by the negative effects of it all. Thanks to Muzan’s approach, however, you never needed to choose now. The love the two of you shared was just as he described, transcending space and time. But the basic, carnal desire you felt for Yoriichi was also real. Being able to have it all, and more… was indeed the best you could ever wish for. Assured in this new discovery, you closed your eyes and let yourself daydream now finally receptive to visualise desires without any more restraints…

Banners by @cafekitsune

Tagging: @doumadono @muzanbloodgalore @muzansfangs @horror4themasses @cursetopia2 @anarcho-satanism

[gay-dorito-dust]

The raven came for Jace, bringing unfortunate news within the form of a small scroll that kept itself sealed shut by a bit of string.

The look that Lord Cregan Stark made his stomach drop, he didn’t need to for it to be vocalised that the raven had brought news many would find hard to stomach, so without an ounce of hesitation Jace found himself flying home to Dragonstone; fighting back the tears that threaten to blur his vision.

His brother was dead and he was too far out of reach to help him, and even if he did attempt to fly on dragon back and into Storm’s end, Jacaerys fears that he wouldn’t have gotten there quick enough for his liking in order to save Luke.

However thar didn’t stop the thoughts within his head that told him that he was failure of an older brother for not protecting Luke better when he should’ve. There were even minor thoughts that his own mother -the rightful queen- would blame him in a fit of grief and anger, that everyone back home would point the blame at him for living while his brother did not.

Jace even caught himself thinking what if you too blamed him? Condemn him for breathing the air that Luke now could not? His brother and Arrax’s remains were found in Shipwreck Bay but even with that in mind it was impossible to comprehend that his brother, someone he saw not too long ago alive and well, was now pronounced dead alongside his dragon with evidence to prove it.

Did you blame him? Jace wondered as Dragonstone came into view, his blood having been frozen solid the moment the news struck him in the chest, he could barely feel anything besides the aching pain where his heart resided and the urge to scream and shout the unbearably hurt he felt out of his body for good.

The rest of the day Jace has never felt more like a spectator in his own body as he watched himself walk through Dragonstone and stopping short when he caught sight of you near the fireplace, reading the same letter that he had moments ago and covering your hand over your mouth to muffle your own cries of pain over the loss. You loved Luke as though he was your own little brother and it hurt Jace just as much to see you in pain and suffering, unable to bring you comfort whilst dealing with his own grief and loss of his brother.

‘Jace?’ Your voice called out in the near empty room, broken but relived at seeing him alive after worrying yourself half to death over the idea that Aemond might’ve tried killing him too.

‘I’m-‘ Jace could barely speak a single word without his voice cracking under the grief he’s tried suppressing the entire flight home. ‘I’m-‘

You walked towards him slightly, opening your arms towards him in a sign that you wished to comfort him, Jace was quick to accept your offer with teary eyes and slam himself into your arms as he clung to you for dear life. The pain growing too much for him to deal with alone, rendering him afraid that it might break him should he try to upkeep his duty as prince, rather than feel his grief like he should.

‘It’s my fault.’ He cried into your shoulder as his fingers dug into you as though he was scared that you’d also leave him.

‘It’s not.’ You told him softly, rubbing his back soothingly as tears streamed down your cheeks silently. ‘It’s not your fault, we both know who’s at fault; Aemond.’ You reminded him as your hatred towards Aemond grew, you wondered whether the bastard even had a human heart to even feel an ounce of remorse for his crime, you prayed to the old gods and the new that they’d condemn him to a fate worse then death.

After all you’ve heard that Cannibal and Grey Ghost were still very much unclaimed and somewhere on Dragonstone.

Jace gripped you tighter as he cried the last of his tears into your shoulder, soaking the fabric but you didn’t care, all that mattered to you was bringing Jace off of the ledge he was hanging off of within his mind. ‘I can’t believe-‘ Jace couldn’t even finish his sentence without another wave of tears streaming down his face.

You pressed a kiss to his head as you held him close to your chest as possible, staring into the fires blankly. ‘It’ll be made right soon Jace, the greens will pay back tenfold by fire and blood I’ll make sure of it.’ You promised him, you might not have a dragon but soon enough you’ll will and when you do, the greens will witness your wrath firsthand.

[watchtowerindistress]

the empath and the eldritch horror (1/5) - ben hargreeves x empath!reader

Summary: Number 8 challenged him. Ben just needed to decide if he liked it or not. Nope, definitely hated it. There was no way in hell he actually liked the little Empath.

Word count: 3.1k

Series masterlist

Warnings: sparrow!ben is a warning in itself, language, violence, mental abuse (y'know Reginald's usual schtick)

Author’s note: I'm merely writing moments in the lives of these characters, since I don't know all the quotes. So the chapters are going to feel like snippets/best moments. I made this series shorter than I expected, but I'm cramming everything together as I wanted. (Set in S3)

I didn't feel like doing a lot of world-building, to be honest. I'm aware this isn't my best work, sorry, my depression makes me tired. I just realized when I wrote that dojo scene that I liked Sparrow!Ben so much because he reminded me of an older version of Damian Wayne. 😅 Please be gentle 🤗 I've never written for this fandom before. You want to be tagged or untagged, let me know. As always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Where the hell is my brother?”

Your determined voice carried to the departing backs of Ben and Fei. Even walking through those corridors in this strange timeline felt utterly surreal. Not to mention, profoundly strange seeing this older version of Ben. After remembering the pictures of when he was still alive.

So, you could only compare this version with the stories Klaus loved to tell. A funny mess. And most of the time a little shit.

Judging by the sarcastic look Ben threw over his shoulder before he fully turned his body, this version of Ben certainly was willing to stir some trouble.

Ben smirked. Fei copied his arrogant demeanor next to him, silently watching this exchange.

“Relax, we just want to have a little chat, and then we’re done with you two.”

Just hearing him talk so unceremoniously about your lives like that simmered something inside you. Like the two of you didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Like Luther and you were barely a blip on their radar.

Your face contorted with anger. To infuriate him just a tad, with the way he infuriated you with his callous words, your body barely leaned forward.

“We’re not things you can just dispose of once we served our purpose.”

Ben tilted his head. There was something fascinating about rendering someone like him speechless for a moment. You weren’t foolish enough to think you were getting to him. Your fingertips twirled behind your back to get a grasp on Ben’s emotions, only to sense something akin to a daze tingling under the surface. Not trusting your own empathetic powers what you detected was real.

Barely turning his head, Ben spoke to Fei with a certain voice. “I can handle this one.”

Fei smirked to herself before murmuring, “I’m sure you do,” and leaving Ben on his own.

He laced his fingers behind his back while playfully dancing on the back of his feet. Ben pursed his lips. “Something I can help you with?”

“How about being the responsible one by having a real conversation instead of using people for your benefit by literally abducting them, huh?”

Ben nodded repetitively, like he couldn’t care less about anyone’s feelings. “Right.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “What’s the name of the big guy again?”

You conjured a patient smile. “Luther. You know, your brother from another timeline?”

Ben crossed his arms, revealing a crooked smile. “As everyone keeps telling me. I wouldn’t call it an abduction,” he exhaled tiredly, shrugging slightly.

“Are we allowed to leave?”

Ben pursed his lips. “I think he’s starting to like it here. And, you know, you seem seconds away from falling for our charms. We do have things to offer that your precious Umbrellas can only dream of.”

Mocking laughter erupted from your chest before Ben joined in. “Right. Wow, someone’s really sold on themselves.”

“I mean, calling it an abduction? Sounds kinda judgmental, don’t you think?”

You clenched your jaw. Remembering Luther’s emotions brought you back to the park, like they were your own. “I felt his desperation ahead of me,” you replied, deciding to remind him.

At the mention, Ben pointed at you, remembering. “So, you’re the emotional one, huh? What’s your number again?”

“I’m not just a number, Hargreeves.” You placed your hands on your hips. “Not surprised that you would deem something like empathy barely a power. I’d like to see you handle an anxiety attack when I’m done with you.”

Ben waved his arms at his sides. His aura was literally shimmering with excitement as he smirked widely. “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You rolled your eyes. It seemed like this version of Ben felt drawn to any sort of mischief, the more the better. “And I thought Klaus was the crazy one,” you muttered under your breath. With a normal voice, you inquired, “Where’s Luther?”

“Probably in the kitchen still miserably failing at charming the pants off Sloane.”

A sigh left you when you mutely walked away towards the direction of Fei’s departure. Truth be told, only to get away from Ben faster.

You had already walked away with brisk steps when Ben’s arrogant sing-song voice made you regret all your life choices. “Other way.”

You instantly turned, while grumbling under your breath, “Fucking smart-ass.” You didn’t need to spare him a glance to feel Ben’s arrogant joy coming off of him in waves when he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in delight.

“You know where to find me if you want to work on those powers of yours, … Number Eight.” Ben chuckled with mirth.

Self-loathing rippled through you just a tad for not letting your power detect Luther’s aura through the mansion to avoid this embarrassing situation altogether. And you blamed yourself for underestimating him. For thinking Ben wouldn’t have interrogated Luther about you.

“So, this is what you guys are doing in your free time, huh?”

Ben’s eyes remained closed when he performed his tai chi movements in the dojo, not letting himself appear to be ruffled by your presence.

“This tells me everything I need to know about your squadron of Umbrellas. How does it feel wasting your day away, not improving?”

You remained unfazed by his choice of insults. In the end, you were used to Reginald’s mental abuse. Your eyes followed his movements, content with watching his little ritual while leaning with your shoulder against the pillar.

“Depends. What’s it feel like when you’re not being a mascot for a Hargreeves empire?”

Ben scoffed in derision. “You think you can distract me?”

Grateful for his answer, you smiled in pure delight before sitting cross-legged on the middle of the training mat. “Oh, I know I am. Besides, I wanted to take you up on that offer which was made by a helpful Ben.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t ever call me that. You’re delusional for thinking I want to help you.”

You dramatically pressed your hand to your chest. “‘Oh, Y/N, I just can’t live with myself if something happened to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that means helping you advance your powers.’”

Forced laughter erupted from Ben’s chest. “Har har, and I thought Sundance was the hilarious one.”

“Klaus.” You reminded him diligently.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Empath.”

You were strangely getting used to this Ben and felt truly like you were having a grand ol' time with him. Even if that meant ruffling his feathers. “You want to know what I think?”

“No,” Ben muttered with a gruff voice.

You continued as if you hadn’t heard him, “Someone’s really pretending that they don’t care about anyone or anything. Or, second theory-”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Ben interrupted you wryly.

“Maybe you don’t mind a distraction to take your mind off things.”

This time around, Ben turned to face you before he knelt down. Leaning over you until you could feel his warm breath on your skin. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“I’m the emotional one, remember?” You whispered before you pursed your lips when a thought hit you. “Not to mention, I can feel your curiosity, with a smidge of you itching for a fight.”

Ben snorted. “You’re adorable for thinking you can take me in a fight-”

An angelic smile tugged at your mouth. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest which was revealed underneath the dark robe. Your fingertips tingled before you let your power come to the surface.

The golden shimmer enshrouded Ben’s chest, pulling him backwards. No matter how many times you had done it before, your hands cautiously studied his aura once you heard his heavy breathing.

You still whispered soothingly, “That’s the sensation you get for being close to fainting. That feeling of vertigo tormenting your body and like your head can’t get enough air.”

The caring side of you stroked Ben’s feverish forehead until the dizzying spell lessened and was finally relieved.

You swallowed once you met Ben’s darkened gaze. He stared at you with glittering eyes, like he was truly seeing you for the first time. Ben licked his lips. “I think … I might have some use for you after all.”

“You may not know this, but my power doesn’t work like a medium,” you said, nervously rubbing your thighs to stimulate your senses.

Ben sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. The Sparrow had changed back into a shirt after the impromptu training session. He leaned forward and warned through clenched teeth. “Do you want to be of help, or not? Get this done, and you and your brother can go back to whatever shithole you stay at.”

“Not with this type of energy in the room.” You widened your eyes at Ben’s glowering ones to make your point. Before long you sat down on Marcus’ bed, with a bored Fei leaning against the door jamb.

Ben’s sister twiddled her manicured fingernails. “Is this a waste of time?”

He clenched his jaw, facing her. “No, it’s not. I know what she can do.”

“Aww, Benny-boo, you believe in me. That’s so cute. Who knew you had a heart?”

Fei smirked, tilting her head. “Not me.”

“You guys are hilarious. Are we done with the ‘band together against Ben today’? I’m doing whatever it takes to locate Marcus here and you two are not helping with the situation.”

You pressed your lips together at Ben’s all too serious demeanor. “Just trying to lighten the mood since your tense atmosphere isn’t helping with the task at hand.”

Ben shared a close-lipped smile, caging your body in on the bed. Despite his threatening air, you remained steadfast and didn’t move an inch.

“Do you mind just doing the thing before I lose my mind and let my tentacles do the talking?”

You narrowed your eyes. Ben needed to work on his lacking social skills, if his only resort were threats. “Say please?”

You could breathe easier again when Ben straightened his body and crossed his arms. “Keep dreaming.”

You exhaled heavily. Half the time he was fun to talk to and other times, he wore you out. “Just give me something of his that holds emotional value,” you mentioned, patiently waiting. The awkward silence confused you to no end. Ben and Fei exchanged glances among each other.

“Why is nothing happening?”

Ben turned to Fei. “Get Sloane.”

His sister tilted her head, challenging him. “Oh, I can just summon my crows.”

The muscles on Ben’s arms tensed before his jaw clenched with his next words. “Fei, take a walk.”

Her shoulder shook with mirth when Fei left with relaxed steps.

Ben’s sarcastic voice pulled you back to him. “I’m guessing giving you one of his leather jackets wouldn’t count, right?”

Your elbows supported you when you settled back. “Wouldn’t get the desired effect. So, let me guess, you guys are just numbers and soldiers?”

Ben shrugged, leaning his hip against the cabinet. “Gets the job done.”

“And you’re content with that?”

“It’s the only thing that matters.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. Or at least, you couldn’t imagine someone being satisfied with being so shallow. “Right. Because being associated to a number is all that matters.”

Ben smirked crookedly. “Oh, there’s nothing better.”

“Right, Number Two,” you added, trying to get to him.

“You trying to flirt with me, Eight?”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “You wish.”

Ben chuckled, pondering to himself. “Who’d have thought? Maybe I prefer calling you Empath more than Eight. It’s pretty close though.”

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks blush at being more intertwined with that status of Empath than a generic number. “You’re weird.”

The mood of his aura changed to something unfamiliar. At least to someone like Ben. He cleared his throat. “So,…”

“So…?” You teasingly copied him, putting the side of your head against your shoulder, watching his reaction.

Ben crossed his arms. “What was he like?”

“Our Ben? Why do you want to know?” To you, it seemed strange for someone like him to inquire about his alternate version.

He eyed something outside the window. “Just curious, I guess,” Ben said, still not looking at you.

“Why don’t you ask Klaus or the others? I only met Ben after he was dead.”

“Wait, what?” That finally got a reaction out of Ben when he rapidly turned his head to stare at you with a peculiar gaze.

You sighed, remembering the circumstances of you meeting your siblings for the first time. “Reginald called me ‘the replacement’.”

Maybe this was ultimately his plan to ostracize you from the others by using that term. At least, you had Diego and Luther at your side. Klaus soon joined that tight-knit little circle once you confided in feeling that sensation of an unfamiliar aura wandering the halls of the manor.

Sometimes it still hurt how everything progressed. Your siblings emanating their grief onto you didn’t bother you. It was their apathy, that they didn’t care about you.

“I was taken in after Ben’s death. I could only feel his aura around after he was dead. I can sense who someone is in a way. Feel what kind of a person they are. Ben was always…” You pondered deeply how to describe someone like him. How to condense someone’s life and traits into the essence of someone.

“Kind, intelligent, mostly mischievous.” You smiled fondly, whispering quietly, “I could never replace him even if I tried.”

You didn’t know what it was about your gaze that made the Sparrow avoid it again. With the shaking of your head, you dispelled your thoughts. The new aura close by tickling your fingertips was a fitting distraction.

You glanced towards the open door. “Hey, Sloane.”

Seconds later, said woman poked her head into the room, smiling with a delighted air. “Neat party trick.”

An expectant Ben raised his eyebrows, interrupting any further carefree moments. “Sloane, Marcus’ favorite stuff he liked to touch?”

You felt inclined to add something else before more inquiries could arise. “In other words, yes. Or something that mattered to him.”

“There should be a book in his nightstand.”

That was the only mention Ben needed before he opened the drawer. Ben shook his head with a scoff, inspecting the worn edition. He showed his sisters the found evidence. “Are you kidding me? The Velveteen Rabbit?”

Sloane waved her open palms soothingly. “Remember we just want Marcus back.”

“What a nerd,” he grumbled, carelessly giving you the book.

“Says you? It’s a timeless classic,” you admonished Ben lightly before reaching for the hardcover edition.

Ben smirked. “I rest my case.” He furrowed his brows when a second thought hit him. “And what did you just say to me?”

You chose to ignore Ben’s little angry outburst when Sloane sat next to you on the bed. “Will it be enough for you to build a psychic connection?”

You closed your eyes, trying to hone in on the source. With your fingertips brushing along the spine of the book, your search for the truth was soon answered with the first memory remnants hitting you. Shivers coursed through your body at the sensation of Marcus’ memories filling your mind like they were your own.

There was an abundance of wishful thinking contained into the book, the craving of a different reality when Marcus’ birth mother granted him this first and last gift.

“It should suffice,” you said assuredly. With a calming sigh, you leaned your head back against the pillows. The book was held tightly in your grip.

“Yeah, sure. Have a nap, why don’t you? Something else you need? Maybe some soothing music, a face mask?”

Your eyes remained closed when you murmured, “Ben Hargreeves.” To get the message across, you made a quiet coyote signal. Hoping it would calm his frayed nerves.

A ripple of Ben’s undignified frustration wafted through the air. His only answer was a harrumphing noise.

You stirred your head, biting your lip in confusion. “I can feel a strong enough remnant, but I should be able to sense his location.”

“What are you saying?” Ben inquired tightly.

You chose your next words carefully. “I’m saying, … I can’t feel Marcus.”

“What does this mean?” Fei’s strained voice shared Ben’s sentiment. “Are you saying he’s dead? Abducted?”

At last, you opened your eyes. The perplexity of this unsolved mystery still plaguing your mind even after. It was more than nerve-wracking. “I’m saying that I should be able to find him, but I can’t. It’s like he just … vanished.”

The air crackled with hostility. Anxiously, you swallowed, staring straightforward. You jumped back when Ben’s wrath reached you.

Holding you down with his tentacles, with one of them slinging around your throat. Tightly but menacingly enough to spell out his primal urges. Ben’s body draped over yours. Fury blazed in his darkened eyes. “Now, Umbrella, I’m done with your little mind games.”

Sloane stood behind Ben’s shoulder, raising her voice. “Ben, let go.”

“Not until I find out what her family has done to him.”

With a hoarse voice, you implored darkly, “Listen to your sister before your Cthulu tentacles get the memo about me too.” As a warning, you gripped the surprisingly smooth appendage around your throat.

You cursed your curious mind for even harboring the thought of wanting to know how the tentacle’s skin would feel like.

Ben’s smile grew tighter, the more his eldritch monster’s hold intensified. “Try me, Eight.”

Summoning empathetic energy from within to converse it as a kinetic shield, you blasted him against the cabinet and leaving small splinters of wood on the carpet.

With a grunting noise, Ben’s tentacles drew back into his body. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly. Ben dragged his body upwards until he was leaning against the furniture for support. He offered a blood-stained smile in reverence before he wiped off the crimson evidence from his lips. “Little minx.”

A dull thud resounded when you dropped the book on the duvet. You stood up and with a quiet voice you told Ben in no uncertain terms, “Don’t ever threaten me again.”

Remembering the company of Ben’s sisters and the result of your outburst, you awkwardly glanced at them before your feet led you towards the open door.

Wordlessly, Fei turned her body to make room. Her gaze roamed over your body with fondness after your display of power. As soon as you left the room, her dry voice remarked, “I’d consider this a success.”

Tagging: @cherryinsalemverse @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @lelaamela

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

A NOOSE TO HANG ONTO (III)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER IV

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death, weapons, violence, suggestive thoughts/comments, toxic modeling standards, food issues, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Sometimes you wonder if meeting your soulmate would even matter—it would never fix the void in your heart, you know. It would be foolish to think that it would. 

But there is such a drug attached to being loved as you are, despite your flaws and failings, destined to be tied in a game of commitment. Yet the simple fact showed that, while soulmates were able to bring you color, that didn’t change people's nature. 

Even among those tied pairs, divorce was rampant; assaults, and murders as well. 

Soulmate Psychosis, it was called. When your mind broke from having it all figured out, or even when you knew it was falling apart. 

It happened to your father and it happened to millions of other spouses too. When your entire life is already decided when you look at someone, it can be…a lot. 

So, part of you was happy that you’d never know who yours was unless they told you themselves—you can hope and pray that they stay their tongue and give you a chance to fall for them naturally. Because it scared you, truly, becoming like all of the rest. A statistic. 

Lord, don’t let yourself become a statistic.

Nikto silently walks at your heels as you push through the front doors of your penthouse, taking off your ball cap and stuffing it into your jacket pocket.

The man at the front desk calls to you, and you raise a hand in greeting, sliding a soft smile his way. 

“Seraph!” Isaak has been working at this building for as long as you can remember—the man with grayish hair and dark eyes. A face that was sharp and a nose crooked; like a chocolate-chip cookie, dark splotches along his face led to the impression of freckles. 

The man was slightly older than you, lanky, and always dressed luxuriously.

“Having a good day, Isaak? Has that girl come back and given you her number yet?” You slow your pace to the elevator, digging into your pocket and peeling out one of the keys from your lanyard for your floor. You nearly drop the thing before you snap and catch onto the metal quickly. Nikto lets off something like an annoyed growl behind you at the interruption from the man across the room. 

He’s impatient, you hum and send him a little glance over your shoulder. Light eyes dig with a warning. You only chuckle and shake your head calmly. One would think that for a PMC he would have all the patience in the world. 

“You know I keep trying to get her to go away,” Isaak smiles at you. “The only woman I’d accept a number from is you, my Little Angel.”

Where the flirtatious comments had gotten you into bed with the man before, now they just didn’t strike you as they had before. Not…anymore. 

You clear your throat and blink away for a moment before you school your expression back to an easy malleability. 

“Good try.” Your focus goes back to the keys, fingers jerkily sifting through them.

Isaak’s brows furrow at your form, perhaps a bit of offense making his face twist—dark eyes slip down your body; pupils dilating. 

A black form steps slightly forward, a large shoulder blocking you from view in one firm movement. Like some wolf with its neck fur standing on end, Nikto’s head is lightly bent down; eyes so intense that they render Isaak frozen in a sense of internal instincts warring with one another.

Nikto doesn’t speak, doesn’t make a sound—only stares and doesn't blink, immobile as a stone.

The soft music of the lobby blurs to the sound of a heart pounding.

You don’t even notice, humming when you find the correctly marked key from its slate mass and moving forward to press the illuminated button of the elevator. 

“Oh!” Your mind pulls itself back to the present and away from letters and fire. “Isaak, this is Nikto—he’ll be…” A pause, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Are you okay?”

The man looks like he’s about to piss himself. 

Without another word, Isaak scurries into the backroom, the door hitting so hard closed behind him that you flinch slightly and blink in shock. Standing for a moment, you tilt your head slowly right before the elevator dings, signaling you can enter. 

Nikto suddenly grabs the meat of your arm and moves you inside.

“Woah!” You call, huffing. “Careful!” 

“Inside,” the PMC grumbles, eyes tight and beady. 

Your feet stumble when he lets you go, having to steady yourself on the back railing so you don’t fall over and hit your face on the floor. A sharp look is leveled at Nikto as he drops his duffel bag to the ground and hooks his arms at the collar of his rig, grunting and shifting his legs to set himself. 

Blinking rapidly, you sigh out a fast breath.

“You know,” you begin, slotting your key into the plaque that says your floor number, twisting, and then taking a step back. Eyes darting to your side, you ease out slyly. “I’m sure people would like you more if you had the ability to articulate what you’re feeling. I’m getting the sense that you carry your emotions around like you’re trying to choke someone out.”

Nikto glares ahead, a brick wall of nothing but a harsh breath. 

You smile softly and chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get you into shape in no time.” Pale eyes slowly slide to your face and Nikto’s dead gaze stays there—brows in such a straight line it’s like looking at a statue. “I always do.”

While being around your mom led you to a subdued state, you had no trouble easing back into your usual route of subtle flirting; it was natural to you, even after traumatic events. A cushion, if you will. It felt good to still be able to regulate yourself and have some level of control over your life. 

The three bodies and the Stalker, that senseless shadow, still haunt the back of your eyelids but having a distraction in the light was helping. Something new to focus on. 

“We need copy,” Nikto glares at you, ignoring your soft tone.

As the elevator rises incredibly high, you hum in question, smile flicking to a confused frown. He grits his teeth under his mask.

“The key, Whelp, да?” Your eyes spark.

“Oh, sure,” you shrug. “I don’t have one.” 

Nikto’s shoulders move back, blinking at you quickly. “You…” he trails off into a snarl of Russian. A hand comes up from his side to harshly dig into the bridge of his hidden nose.

You have to restrain a wide smile, the muscles in your face twitching. 

When the doors open, you’re led into the sight of your safe place—an entire world away from the one outside the half-closed blinds of an opposite wall of all windows.

“I’ll order you one,” you try to reassure Nikto, sending him a side glance as you let all of the tension leak out of you as you step inside. “No worries.”

The man follows, jaw tense, as he stoops down and swipes up his bag. 

“How is it that you do not have a second key?” Nikto’s eyes dart around the living room, not showing the slight way he’s taken aback by the size of everything and the design choice. 

It was certainly…unique. 

High mass, there were knickknacks on nearly every surface—a far-off ceiling due to the open second level where the rooms must be. There were hanging beads from the stairs, and plants that grew large and verdant; Nitko blinked at paintings on nearly every surface of the visible wall. A hanging chandelier that emits light over the antique-looking furniture of wood and velvet. 

Even a taxidermy deer head, with its antlers holding jewelry that glints rich and luxurious. Books and painted bits of the walls that were near sheer fabric draped as an accessory from the top of bookshelves. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you utter, sincerely, “if I’d been told that you were going to be staying here, I would have gotten the spare room ready.”

The kitchen is simple and mixed in with the living room in the form of a large island piled with magazines and notebooks. 

You sigh and look around, wrapping your arms around your waist as you glance around the space. Not a stranger to the confused looks you’d get from your style.

Aly described it as a fairy tale. A hut in the woods holding secrets and magic. So different than what AMA had you displayed as—a cold angel of white and sharp feathers.

A product of some great lust machine.

“Just wait until he sees the loft,” you murmur, thinking about all of the various fabrics and tailored clothes you’d had in the open space directly when you walk up the stairs. The Dress Form torso mannequins wearing dresses you’d made with pricked fingers and shaky nerves. 

You hoped he hadn’t met his Soulmate, because you’re sure it’s a hideous mess of colors up there. The thought makes you pause, and you realize you haven’t asked that question to yourself yet. 

Did Nikto see color? 

“No need,” Nikto immediately returns to his stoic monotone at your concern over the state of things. “I make do. Step aside.” 

Slipping off your shoes, you place them in the old claw foot parlor table you’d made into your entryway storage, glancing at the void as he walks around your creaky wooden floors with his heavy boots. 

“Shoes,” you remind, voice light. 

The beast halts, his back to you halfway onto your handmade Persian rugs. You watch his fingers twitch around his duffel bag straps, as you go to close your secondary door; hiding the gaping wound in the building as the elevator leaves. A soft click emanates just as the man grunts lowly and lets his bag slam to the floor. 

In one movement, the Russian bends down and unlaces his boots in firm and quick motions, grabbing them and turning like a puppet on a string. He plants them next to yours on the parlor table and sends you a tight look with hard eyes.

Nikto’s accent flares in his quick comment. “You are strange, Girl.”

You hum and shift out of your jacket, folding it and placing it atop the shoes. 

“Oh, so I’m strange because I don’t want you tracking dirt on my clean rugs? The people you live around must be slobs.”

“We do not live around others.” 

You blink, staring into his eyes as your skin pulls lightly. “Then I’m sorry. That must be very lonely.” 

Nikto’s muscles tense under his gear, great thighs hardening. He growls low after a moment of stiffly watching you. “I do not need pity, certainly not from you,” and then stalks off, leaving his bag in the foyer. 

Lips slightly parted, you let him walk away and snoop, taking account of the rooms and the layout for his own needs. Sighing, you rub at the back of your head before letting your hand drop back down, pulling at the fabric of your turtle neck. 

You couldn’t deny that you found Nikto physically attractive—the large stature and built frame made your neurons fire, how he loped along with his bulky gear. Sure, that was natural, and despite the attitude, you did feel secure around him. He had an extensive record for a reason, and your mother would only include the best in her decisions. 

It also attested to the fact that you didn’t find his aggression at all fear-inducing if that made any sense at all. To everyone else, he would be the pinnacle of an axe murderer, but, for some reason, he didn’t feel like that to you. A bit loose, sure, but the knowledge that this man was entirely mission-driven sat well with you. 

It confused you—why did you not entirely mind having him around?

I can live with this, you tell yourself, brushing off your sweatpants and telling yourself not to think of the bakery or about Sergi, Yefim, or Petya; Aleksandr. 

But when all that’s moved away like a curtain in front of the window, the view still remains. 

The Stalker. 

You still couldn’t rationalize it. How could someone do that? Be so bold and brute-like? And it was all over you. 

Never had you been overconfident in yourself—you knew you had the looks and the money, the ability to do what few people could, but that had never gotten into your head. It was common knowledge that every model had a shelf-life and yours would probably end sooner than later if this kept up. 

Any damage to your flesh that left long-term scarring was an instant dismissal. No negative press for AMA, either. 

In all of this, you were walking a very thin path of horror and reality, like a show at a circus. And you of all people know you can’t walk in a straight line.

The overwhelming feeling of being hunted was setting in and you were entirely in the woods with blood poured over your body; weighing down a dress of linen and calling the beasts to feast upon your flesh with a ravaging appetite. 

Swallowing the bile in your throat, you quickly go to find where Nikto had slinked off to, suddenly very cold and not liking the silence. On the way, you flick at your record player, and the old rusty thing spits out Clair De Lune as the glass sun catchers shaped like stars glimmer from the loft’s beams. 

“Nikto?” You call in question, looking around before you murmur to yourself. “Where did you get to?” 

Carefully grabbing the railing to the stairs, you watch your feet as you slowly ascend, piano music in the background; fingers tight and hard as you slide it up one at a time. You only knock your foot once, two steps from the top, but quickly recover with only a huff and a tiny chuckle. 

Nikto walks through the top seating area filled with your materials and fabric, glancing at every book and measuring device that you have; the half-finished pieces. You blink and watch, wondering what he’s thinking as he clicks his tongue before walking to the first door and pushing it open. Your eyes slightly widen at that. 

“Well, you sure do like making yourself at home,” your voice calls to the dark figure, and you shake your head. You begin following as if he is showing you around your place and not the other way around. 

“I am doing my job.” Nikto’s voice spits out from the opening as you shuffle in. He glances around the small guest bedroom quickly. “Your home is cluttered.” The Russian mutters. “Messy.”

“I call it controlled chaos.” You ease, hands slipping into your pockets beside your phone and wallet. “You’ll find I’m fond of shiny things.”

“We can tell.” Head tilting, you restrain yourself from asking why he keeps referring to himself in the first person like that.

“You’re free to take this room if you want.” There are three doors that make up the separate walls—the one you’d both just walked through, one to the adjoining library and joint bathroom, and the other to your master bedroom with a respective master bath. 

All connected to one another like a train car. 

Nikto grunts and slips his eyes to the bits of personalization you’d left, though not as much as the rest of the penthouse. The bed was a Full size, there was a desk with bits of lush greenery coming off from a planter, and storage for clothes in the form of a large wardrobe you’d found in an antique store. 

Classy, you thought, however, your standards for decoration weren’t the pinnacle of design. A set of Russian nesting dolls from your mother was put onto shelves, and in one of the corners, a hanging oil lamp sat above a nightstand. 

Gray plush duvet and a fluffy rug you were told was purple when Alyona stayed over, with large pillows that looked like bear fur.

“Again,” you send a glance to the blank stare that Nikto keeps on you. “I didn’t know you were staying over.”

“It is… sufficient.” Gruff and final, though with an air of annoyed disgust, the Russian goes into the library second to last and then heads into your room with his broad back expanding; leaving a trail of authority in his wake. 

Under your breath, you quietly mock him before rolling your eyes and following. For all this, you ended up being correct. Nikto was a good distraction. 

The first thing that he notices is the stuffed animals.

They take up most of the window nook, some incredibly large and fluffy while others are small and could be crushed in his palm, even sitting atop one another if the space allowed. Nikto blinks at the sight of a very large bear plushie with a small bird on the head—little felt feet sticking out in front of it. 

You clear your throat, the hot embarrassment flooding your face as your smile turns sheepish. 

“Just…uhm…it’s just a little bit of an addiction.” Like the rest of the house, that fairy tale feeling emanates here as well—fancy curtain holders, old tea cups holding palm-sized pewter statues, paintings, and stained-glass lamps from the nineteen hundreds. 

Pale eyes tilt their gaze down to you, silent as always.   

“But at least it’s not drugs!” You push out quickly, awkwardly chuckling and shrugging your shoulders. 

Your feet shift from under you, the large room that you call your own not something you planned on having to describe today. There was something incredibly intimate about letting someone into your house—someone you didn’t know especially. 

Nikto puffs a bit of air in something akin to a scoff, turning his head away from you but not after a slight quirk of his brow. 

“Are you sure you are not on drugs?” You snap up to stare at him, falling silent for a moment as he turns and leaves. 

Gaping, you stutter, slightly amused, “W-was that a joke, Nikto?” He doesn’t answer and a slow smile grows on your lips. “Hey! C’mon did you just make a joke? Awe,” you coo, “I really am good at this!” 

“Stop talking.” Nikto snarls, glaring as he goes down to the ground level. “You are making my ears hurt.” 

You hurry to the stairs, following after with a steady mood, chuckling. 

“If you’re going to be my glorified roommate, I think talking is part of the—” A sharp gasp rips from you as your leg hits on the banister, your foot locked through the metal as you yelp loudly at the sudden pain. In a quick tilt your vision slides, a swift sensation of gravity taking over as your body takes you tumbling backwards. 

You tense mid-air, mind already made up about the incoming pain of your head knocking off the hard material, your skull rattling and splitting open; blood and brain matter spilling out to coat the—

Arms snap around your waist, legs still on the top half of the stairs and back hitting a large chest as you grunt in surprise; eyes blinking wildly. 

Heart hammering, your head quickly looks up only to find the piercing eyes of Nikto burning down into you. Your nose brushes his face mask, the harsh fabric of the lover half pressing into yours. 

You both stay there for a moment, Nikto’s blazing gaze unphased, it seemed, by the close contact. Inside of your gut, your stomach flips, and a tightness flares in your lungs. 

Upon the air, your voice stutters out, tiny, “M-my bad.” You accent it with a helpless chuckle.

Nikto’s breath brushes over your forehead, and with a quick jerk of his arms you’re set back up on top of the stares. Even here, you meet the man’s height perfectly—him a few steps below you yet still a giant. 

“This will be a problem, yes?” Nikto barks out. You steady yourself on the railing and take a deep breath. “You. You are…” His eyes twitch as if trying to find the correct word in English. He grunts to himself, fingers twitching.

You tilt your head, still calming down. Your throat is tight at the heat that still emanates from where Nikto’s hands had wrapped around you.

“...Shaky?”

“Hm,” Nikto doesn’t seem like that word fits best, but he nods once firmly, folding his arms over his chest and never once releasing you from his stare. Studying you as a monster does a maiden. “Да.”

You jerkily shrug, rubbing at your neck with one hand. 

“Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you,” your lips tilt in an amiable smile—trying to play off what you say as you continue. Nikto’s body goes still, yet his attention never leaves. His eyes narrow. “I should have told you when we met, but you were, eh,” you chuckle, looking away for a moment. “Pretty quick with wanting to leave.”

A strained silence falls; an unknown emotion in the air. 

“I—” Your voice is cut off by your phone vibrating from inside of your pocket, and with your hand snapping to that general area, you blink in surprise. “Oh.” 

Fishing it out with awkward fingers, you find the illuminated screen and a text from Alyona calling up to you.

‘Video call w AMA & managers. 5 min. Be ready!’ 

“Shit,” you mutter, immediately going into your professional headspace. 

But before you can rush off to grab your computer and slap makeup on your face, Nikto’s hand yanks your phone from your grasp. Blinking at your empty palm, your face darts up with a swift offense growing. 

“Nikto!”

“Quiet.” The man taps into your contacts and you watch helplessly as he begins slashing in his own number with his digits firmly pressing in hard intervals to the keypad. 

Huffing, you shake your head and leave him there to do what he needs to do, not overprotective of a device and more concerned with the time constraint that was leveled like a noose around your neck. 

You had to look somewhat good for the call, after all, they could be waiting to tell you you’re fired. 

They wouldn’t do that with Alyona there, you reason as you narrowly dodge running onto a side table before you enter your room again, though this time from the main door. Not the managers either. 

Your lips pull straight. 

But if the CEO was on call, then you’d have to worry. He had no problem being ruthless about policy and public image, always so pretentious with his power over all of the men and women employed at Allurement. 

But then again, he had always seemed to take an interest in you, anyway. 

You slip out of your turtleneck and pull on a silk top that seems either white or a very very pale color—either way, they always put you in something near to white, so it didn’t matter. Since it was a video call, there was no need to show your bottom half; the sweatpants stayed. 

Makeup was the hard part. 

With your nerve spasms always showing up at inopportune times, it took a long time if someone else wasn’t doing it for you. You had ways to combat it, sure, but none you could get ready in five minutes. 

Three, you tell yourself. 

An idea hits your head like a rock.

“Nikto!” You call, rushing to your vanity and pushing aside a plush raccoon to snag your mascara. There wasn’t time for anything else. “I have a favor!”

“No,” the man materializes in the opening of your door, the backdrop of your fabric mess in the loft behind him; the clashing of shades momentarily confuses you, blinking quickly, but you recover with a huff and a plea.

“I need you to put my mascara on—my hands are too unpredictable right now.” He’s growling in the way you’re already accustomed to. This must be one hell of a day for him. “Your job is to protect me right? I need you to protect me from public humiliation.”

“Then humiliate yourself.” Nikto’s narrowed eyes lower even farther, face turned sharply to you as you walk over and hold out the stick. “This is not my job.”

You dig hard into his eyes, serious if not a bit willing. “I’d owe you.” Your tone is hard but true. 

The Russian bear’s shoulders roll slightly, getting higher and more irritated. He grunts at you. After a long and heartstopping moment, he grabs onto your pocket and slips your phone back inside, jostling your body into his as you make a noise in surprise. 

In that same movement, the mascara stick is yanked from your hand and fingers grapple onto your chin. 

Your eyes go wide; body instantaneously tensing, as the unyielding grip moves your chin to the side and one hand unscrews the mascara with a slight pop of the seal. 

“You are dependent,” Nikto’s digits are tight, but you don’t blink or pull away as the stick spreads pigment. “I do not like it, Girl. Like child running with a knife.” 

“Aren’t you such a ray of sunshine?” You grumble but stay deathly still. Nikto’s body is tight against yours, leaning over you. 

The guy certainly didn’t mind getting handsy if he needed to. Thinking like that makes your feet shuffle tinily under you, a heat emanating from your cheeks and your thighs momentarily becoming stiff. 

His body warmth bleeds through his bulk; the grating press of his chest plate to your upper body.

“Stop breathing,” Nikto hisses and your cheek is moved to the side, knee knocking into his leg. 

You feel and see the stick descend and move your lashes delicately, quite adverse to the attitude you’re getting. The Russian is attentive and set on getting his task done, even if he despises it.

“What kind of a request is that?!” 

“Hush!” He barks and you both try to glare at each other as the last of the mascara is bushed on. “Get out.”

You pull back and frown up at him.

“I’m sorry you think that your attitude is appropriate, Nikto.” With your nose in the air, your hands grapple for your laptop on the way out of your room and sit at the desk out in your loft. Tossing a stack of fabric to the floor and brushing down the surface. 

Behind you, there’s a plain-colored sheet hung to the wall for conferences—and you make sure it’s in place as you plop down to your seat. 

Nikto’s angry eyes bore into you from the doorway, which he slowly leans against and crosses his arms heavily. 

He mutters under his breath in fast Russian, shaking his head as you unlock your laptop and log in, easily clicking where you need to go and pulling up your video call with twenty seconds to spare. 

Alyona’s face appears first, looking to the side, and you send a soft smile before you unmute yourself. 

“Feeling better?” The woman perks up, eyes coming to you. She beams.

“Солнышко!” You laugh, tilting your head. “No, no, forget about me, how are you?” Aly gives you her full attention. “I need to come over and visit, yes? We should have a girl’s night again. Just us.” 

“I’m…alright,” you simply say, fast to reassure her of her worries. There was no need to burden the model with your fears. Not when she’s still living with her own. “And that might be a bit difficult on the ‘just us’ part, unfortunately.”

She sighs but is serious in her concern.

“New bodyguard, Seraph?” Nikto listens to everything from across the loft, and you glance up at him before you open your mouth to speak in the affirmative.

“Live-in.” Alyona thins her lips, but, surprisingly, doesn’t seem off-put. 

“Perhaps that is good, hm? If it’s to keep you safe, I would be willing to deal with it.” Before you can admit that it’s not the worst idea in the world, though draining, three others pop into the call.

Yours and Alyona’s managers, and, of course, the CEO of AMA. 

You have to hide your curse before it sneaks out of your mouth. Everyone greets one another, and you send polite smiles and hellos in return. Corporate professionalism a virus that sweeps your features into a mask of compliance and brain-dead agreements. 

Kliment Fedorov, CEO of Allurement Modeling Agency, shows his large and round face in the very center of the screen; with tiny eyes like a fly and a bald head. He’s in his office.

The man calls your name and smiles wide, pure white teeth leaning more towards fake looking than just the results of frequent brushing. 

“It is good to see both of my best girls getting along. No lasting marks, I hope?” You and Aly dart look. 

“None, Sir.” You both answer, still smiling and falling in line. They only speak in English for your comfort—in your manager’s box, you see his translator lean into his ear and relay the words being let out.

“Good, good! This is great news. Seraph,” you perk up, Nikto from the back shuffling while looking around his surroundings. He picks at a piece of reflective fabric on a side table with his brutish fingers, twisting it before huffing and tossing it away. He snoops as if put off by the high-mass areas, used to order and cleanliness. 

Not that it wasn’t clean, but outwardly it gave off a certain impression of clutter.

“How soon can you be back? We have had even more propositions offered because of this event.” Your lungs stutter. “Mrs. Solovyova and yourself are very profitable for the company at the current time; this only made your popularity better!” 

Your manager, Kostya, spits off into his native tongue with its harsh edges. Nikto’s head shifts back your way but says nothing. 

Profitable? Wanted? You can’t say you’re overly thrilled at the comments. Just like you can’t say you want to get back to work when the Stalker knows exactly where you’ll be. 

Who could say when he would strike again? A day? A week? Going back to AMA would make the target on your back as large as a damn elephant.

Kliment waves a hand and your manager falls silent at the sheen of anger in his fly-eyes. He continues.

“Of course, AMA had to take precautions, Ladies.” Alyona shifts in her box on the screen, glancing to the side. “We were very close to having to terminate your deal with us. Such events are…ah, dangerous for our image.”

It’s like a punch to the gut you knew was coming. The only reason you were still employed was because of companies trying to profit off of the girls who beat the odds and survived a direct attack on one of their own. 

You could already see the headlines—had seen the headlines. 

Aly and you know the response you need to give.

“Thank you, Sir.” Smiles are stiff, but a sheet of pleasure washes Kliment’s face.

“Well, of course, my girls! I would never get rid of such beauties, no, no. This agency is your home—I love my women like my own.” His eyes stay on you, and your body shivers even miles away. “But lovely Seraph, again, when can we have you back? Everyone has been asking, yes? Photographers lining up! But of course, you’ll keep your assigned one.” 

Everyone? You swallow down saliva thinking about crowds and the peering eyes. 

“Uhm,” Nikto openly stares, and you glance up at him. He offers no help above a tilt of his head; arms over his chest. “W-when would you need me back, Sir. My calendar is always free for you.”

“Good! Tomorrow, then. Mrs. Solovyova?” 

“...That works for me, Sir.” 

“Perfect!” You sigh and close your eyes for a moment before the CEO jumps into business—your managers taking notes in preparation for scheduling and locations. “I will send the details over to your departments and good wishes to the companies, I’ll expect to hear of you both being in tomorrow.” 

He leaves the call, but not without a smirk forming on his face. 

The managers talk for a few moments, getting almost everything in order before they too leave. 

Aly and you release a deep breath, both sagging. The other woman is first to speak.

“Bastard.” Nikto scoffs from across the room. You peek before you rub your head and nod in turn. 

“A creep, one hundred percent.” Alyona sighs, and her palm acts as a headrest as she lays her chin on it. She licks her lips, face going hard.

“You don’t think that he…” Your brows tilt in confusion before you catch what she’s trying to say. 

“No, Aly, it can’t be him.” She frowns. “T-that would be,” you force a laugh, hands beginning to spasm. Swiftly you move them under the desk. “That would be insane.”

Nikto takes his phone out of his pocket and taps something into the screen, feet spacing themselves in a display of a perfect soldier. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, Солнышко.” You turn away for a moment. “Anyone could be at this point.” 

“My mother said there was a break-in at the bakery before the explosion. Someone planted that bomb because they guessed on an off chance that we would go out.” You breathe sharply. “Do you know how insane that is? Anyone could have,” swiftly stopping your sentence, you shake your head to clear it. “It’s…the person who’s doing this can’t blend into normal life. It has to be obvious, and everyone��s missing it.”

“Easy, Little Seraph,” Alyona eases, showing you a hand to get you to come back to her. “We will figure this out, yes?” 

A hand rubs along your face and you whisper out, “Okay.” 

“I’ll see you and the new man tomorrow—you know you can call me with anything. Nikifor and I worry about you. Yekaterinburg is a dangerous place, regardless.” You have to smile at that, lightly chuckling. Aly tilts her head as her hair brushes her shoulders after a moment of quiet thinking. A lighter air spreads out like her voice from the speakers. “...Who did your makeup in so little time?” 

“See you tomorrow!” You grab the end of the laptop and slam it closed as the woman yells out to you.

“Don’t fuck him on the first day!” Wanting to shrivel up and die, you avoid Nikto’s suddenly brutal gaze and quickly push a smile to your lips.

“S…she’s joking.” His pale eyes aren’t amused. 

Nighttime is a strange affair between the two of you.

You jump at every strange noise—like Nikto rearranging his room better to his standards—as you think of dinner for two. Laying on the couch, back in your turtle neck, it’s hard to focus above the scrape of hardwood and the low grunts from above; the distant rhythmic stomp of feet.

You rub your eyes and groan low. This was going to be a task, even for your usually placid attitude. 

“What the hell does a monster eat?” The comment is directed at the taxidermy deer on your wall as you move to stand. “Liver? The souls of my enemies?” You blink, pausing before you mumble. “Maybe that’s not so bad, now that I think about it.” 

Your pantry was already sparse at best. 

Tapping the cupboard, you settle on something that Alyona had taught you to make with her mother. Cabbage Soup—Schi or щи—low overall in calories but still filling when you know your limits; healthy as well as hardy. You mess with the bag of potatoes and peel out a few, turning and setting them down on the island. 

With the dark night soon setting in, you push the automatic button on your wall and watch the curtains close the rest of the way with a soft buzzing sound. Sighing, you flick on the lights and get to work as the gray blobs of potatoes fall apart under your knife, set to the side. 

Cooking, while you still had a complicated relationship with food, did truly make you calm down. The tremors eased up, your feet stopped moving so much—you even felt yourself getting hungry as the ingredients were roughly chopped and dropped into a pot to boil. 

If you allowed yourself it, you wouldn’t have minded growing up to be a cook instead of some form of greed and envy. But the thought of that now made you lose your appetite entirely.

When you’re half done with your tiny bowl, water on the side with nothing else, Nikto stalks down the stairs. 

He takes one look at your bowl and speaks lowly. 

“Щи.” You hum, recognizing the word that Aly’s mother had said. He grunts, chest jerking as he comes around the island to the boiling pot; his back now to you. “You will starve with that small of a portion, Whelp.” 

Blinking, you sip down some of the broth from your spoon and furrow your brow. That nickname still makes your eyelids narrow in slight disapproval, but you let it go.

“I don’t think so, Nikto. It’s the last bit of calories I need for the day.” Pale eyes watch over his shoulder, pulling smaller.

“I find that insulting.” His hand grabs the ladle, bringing it up to stare. The Russian’s shoulder blades pull out at the motion, the line of his spine most likely showing through his skin under all that gear. You should tell him it’s okay to take it off, but you highly doubt he ever does outside of sleep. “Pointless.”

“You try being a model,” you remark. “You’ve got the body for it, at least. I know a few people that would swoon over the height alone.” 

Nikto’s visible skin pulls, biceps tense. “Swoon, Girl?” The accent makes it sound like a bark from a dog. 

You take your last spoonful, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak. 

“Like,” pausing, you swallow, “actually I don’t know what that means. Become emotionally affected, I guess?”

“I do not care if people become ‘emotionally affected’ by my height.” Nikto pulls a bowl from the cupboard—a large one. “Such things are below me. All that matters is the mission.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff. “Sour cream is in the fridge.” 

The light from the machine greets you as the condiment is taken out and emptied into a nearly overflowing bowl of cabbage soup. Blinking at the amount of food that would burst your stomach if you ate it, you shrug and clean out the last of the broth by bringing the lip of the bowl to your mouth. 

Nikto huffs, looking down at the soup. He pauses.

“Where is баранины?” Your confusion must be plainly stated on your face because he seems to clench his jaw and say through his teeth. “Lamb.”

“Alyona never made it with meat,” you answer, hopping off your stool and moving to put your dirty dishes in the sink. “But I’ve heard everyone makes it differently depending on where you grew up. Was that how your parents made it?” 

When you turn back around he’s already walking away from you. Watching, wide-eyed at how silently he cleared the room, you make a small sound in the back of your throat as he disappears upstairs.

The silence wafts back in, only the small noise from the record player dancing in your ears. 

You lick your lips for the remaining taste of food and clean up with a still-growling stomach, shaking your head at the strange character living with you. Hoping this doesn’t drag out any longer than it has to and you’re able to find the stalker soon, you hear your phone go off on the counter as you mull over your predicament. 

After you put the last of the leftovers away, you pat your hands on your pants and reach for your device, flipping over the screen and reading what will probably be a text from Aly for tomorrow. 

You pause. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘Why won’t you let me love you?’ 

Staring, whatever sense of normalcy you had from cooking was snatched away. The blood in your veins halts with a blockage of iron and fear. Instantaneously, adrenaline spikes, making your pupils go small and your jaw clench. 

Hands shake. You almost drop your phone. 

With a quick punch of your fingers, you delete the text and block the number—tossing your device back to the counter and moving away from it until your back hits the cupboards. 

Spasming palms slap to the stone countertop, grip tight. 

You stare at the phone for a very long time, hearing nothing but the dull drone of the piano, the sounds of the city outside, and the pulse of your veins. Static was in your ears. 

Gasping for a sudden deep breath, you clear your throat and turn away to finish cleaning, your body unable to stay still.

That night, like the ones previous, you find trouble sleeping. 

The room was only illuminated by the fairy lights you’d strung from the ceiling, a soft fade and reentry like twinkling stars hanging in a black sky. You stare at them with open eyes, laying on your back surrounded by a multitude of quilts and blankets—pillows that crowd with doughy insides. 

Nikto was turning in his bed, and the movement was setting you on edge. 

The PMC had ordered you to keep the door between your rooms open at night, in case something was happening he would hear you better. You held your tongue on the fact that if this creep managed to get into your penthouse then it was already over for you. Regardless, now you could hear every shift and grunt—every huff of annoyed air. 

No doubt the Full bed in the spare room was too tiny for him, nothing compared to your King. 

Sighing and covering your eyes with your forearm, you call out sleepily. 

“Are you sleeping alright?” The shifting stops. You wait for a response but get none. “Nikto?” Nothing. 

Sitting up, your large silk pajamas hang off one shoulder as you yawn; covering your mouth you stand and steady yourself on the oak bed frame. Standing so you can get your bearings, you decide to do what you normally do when you can’t sleep. 

Grabbing your phone’s flashlight, you flick it on and head to the kitchen—being extra careful and taking the stairs at half the speed you normally would. In the kitchen you grab at the stacked teacups and pick one with flowers on the sides; giggling to yourself at the thought.

Magnolia Tea. 

Its smell burns into your nostrils as you prepare it in near-darkness, like a beacon of light the liquid shimmers. You remember your mother making it for you after the accident—helping you to sleep and stave off the nightmares; the insomnia. 

You finish your cup in the kitchen but bring the second back up with you. Spilling only a little onto the tea plate, you go through the main door to your room and then turn to the blackened opening of Nitko’s doorway. 

“I made tea,” your voice echoes. But no sound. 

Maybe he was already asleep now. 

“No need to drink it, but it helps me when I can’t sleep. Magnolia, if you’re curious.” You chuckle, fairy lights illuminating your face. “Sorry, I’m keeping you up. I’ll leave it in the doorway, okay?”

Silence, but perhaps a tiny huff from inside the lion's den. Good or bad, you have no clue. Slipping back into bed, you try not to think about what you’re sleeping above—the letters from the Stalker’s gifts. 

You’d never opened them, and you never would. Inside that lockbox is where they would stay.

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand, and even with the tea in your stomach, it is a long, long, time before your eyes flutter closed. 

Yefim’s body dances like a puppet on a string, a shadowy figure pulling the cords and letting his decimated corpse sway; jewelry stapled into his burnt neck like a collar. A noose that your desperate fingers try to hang onto.

How long could you keep this game up?

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatos, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

[ateez-himari]

[240802] THEIR LIGHT

...

Hold my hand, hold my hand The two of us are enough

The darkness of the foreign city streets never slept yet the nine friends walking along careless about whatever stresses life might have to throw at them seemed to liven it up further, one member speaking in an exaggerated tone whilst others argued in between chuckles. It was almost impossible to tell whose arm was around which shoulder with the way they so often collided with one another attempting to navigate the tight sidewalks, eyes crinkled in long sustained joy. While the fashionable clothing paired with ethereal visuals despite the very slight presence of makeup gave away their idol career, one without knowledge of this industry would very easily mistake them for normal adults enjoying the beauty of togetherness.

Only two stood out from the group due to their visible romantic relation, the girlfriend clearly younger than her male counterparts stuck tightly to one of the taller friends' side, who seemed much more focused on her than the conversation they were having. Ruffling the young woman's hair with a ringed hand it seems as though time had slowed down specifically for them the second he met her eyes, sparkling under the streetlights while she gazed at him like the entire universe resided in his being. Everything from the way her arm wrapped so perfectly around the rapper's bicep to the light melodic laughter slipping past slightly glossed lips at an older member's joke seemed almost surreal.

Wooyong pulling their maknae aside to showcase whatever exceptional talent he had suddenly acquired after several drinks almost saddened him even with the knowledge that they would find themselves in the same bed in a few hours. Despite this no one could deny that watching them speak excitedly whilst making grand hand gestures was amusing, not even the rapper made needy by the very drinks that had rendered everyone else rather strange.

The sudden absence of warmth was easy to overlook when an innocent happiness radiated from his girlfriend as both members ran off to tell the older men what they had found whilst giggling with one another. The falsely exasperated looks in the eyes of those who had finished raising her and the intrigued yet confused expressions of the younger ones provided evidence that she was the sun itself, lighting up those around her, the brightest star known to mankind somehow trusting the fragility of its heart in his own palms.

Too lost in the whispers of his heart, the rapper failed to notice that the young woman in question had moved from sight and the sudden loss of her presence struck panic in his alcohol hazed state. Luckily the attentiveness of his best friend had not diminished despite his consummation of the same substance and a light nudge to the lost boyfriend's shoulder was enough to point him in the right direction, to a street performer's stage in front of which their vocalist was now dancing with the mountain of a man.

'Like a moth to a flame.' Yunho chuckled, taking out his phone to film the two.

Within the blink of an eye he had an arm around his girlfriend's waist, stopping the improvised choreography in its tracks, and their lips were locked in an ever so brief yet loving kiss which inevitably drew gags from their friends. Sticking out her tongue made bright pink thanks to the previously eaten lollipop to their disgusted bystanders, the maknae pecked his cheek and pulled him into whatever dance was supposed to grow out of her agile steps. Despite the previous remarks, everyone present knew that these two were crafted by fate itself for one another, the strings of their hearts entangled in an uncuttable embrace.

Taglist; @teezingsiyeon (I saw the message late so I'm just now starting on it ㅜ.ㅜ)

[makowcy]

another slightly older onee, i never finished rendering but im still digging it

also its @kiszoneszczury design

[mellowsadistic]

The Magician's Game - Chapter 3

Katherine ran down the corridor. It was well-furnished with little tables and vases and the occasional gorgeous painting on the wall, nicer even than Katherine’s own family home, but she didn’t have time to admire it. She’d slipped into her room at the same time as the others, pulled on her dress, which had magically appeared on her bed since she’d lost it during the challenge, and left immediately. One woman turned into a thumbsucker, another stripped of her stylish clothes and dressed up like a nursery schooler, and a third, worst of all, rendered permanently incontinent.

Katherine’s relief at not being in Becky’s place had quickly passed. It was pretty clear what sort of thing the Magician had in mind for them, and Katherine had no intention of ending up as some overgrown baby herself. There were still three challenges to go, not to mention whatever extra things the Magician might do to them if they were voted out. She couldn’t stand the thought of ending up like Becky, forced to spend the rest of her life in diapers. Diapers. A fashion statement that told the world you couldn’t even control your bladder and bowels, that you were no better than a two-year-old at keeping yourself clean and dry. The idea that a grown woman could be reduced to that was terrifying. She had to get out of here now.

Katherine ran as quietly as she could. She’d gone deeper into the mansion – there was no way she was going back through the hall when there was a chance Becky and the Magician were still there – but the place was like a labyrinth. Still, there had to be an exit, and sneaking out was clearly her best option. The man was obviously a real magician of some kind, but he surely couldn’t know everything. Katherine was more worried about coming across other people in the house, members of staff perhaps, maids or cooks or housekeepers, anyone who might alert the Magician to what she was doing.

She froze as she head the faint sounds of a soft, female voice coming from up ahead. There was a door on the right of the corridor just a few feet away that was slightly ajar. She’d have to be careful to sneak past without whoever was inside seeing her. She approached cautiously, and as she got closer, the words of the woman inside became clearer.

“There’s a good girl,” she cooed. “Drink it all up for Nanny now, that’s a good baby. Such a hungry girl, aren’t you? Someone’s getting her tum-tum nice and full, isn’t she?”

When she was right outside the door, Katherine peeked inside through the gap. What she saw made her freeze in place. There was a beautiful middle-aged woman sitting on a sofa. Her breasts, larger even than Katherine’s own, were out, and latched onto the nipple of one of them was a girl who seemed to be around Katherine’s age, naked but for the thick white nappy on her bottom. All Katherine could see of her head was her sleek brown hair, but there was no doubt she was nursing eagerly on the older woman’s breast.

“That’s it,” the woman crooned down at the girl laying across her lap. “Drink up all of Nanny’s milk like a good baby.”

Katherine was transfixed. It was like looking at a car crash – a girl her age reduced to the level of a nursing infant.

Quite suddenly, the older woman looked up, straight into Katherine’s eyes. A broad smile appeared on her face, maternal yet slightly sinister as well.

“Does someone else want a suckle?” she asked lightly.

Katherine squealed and fled as fast as she could down the corridor. She ran past other doors, trying not to think about what might be behind them. It was only until she came close to another open one, with a woman’s voice coming from it once again, this time stern and lecturing, that she hesitated.

“You naughty little thing! You do not take your nappy off, missy. I hope that red bottom will teach you a lesson. Come on, legs in, let’s get this over your nappy. You know what a little fountain you can be.”

Katherine couldn’t help herself. She stopped running to glance inside.

There was another Nanny in the room, and another girl. But this time the young lady was standing up, sniffling, her eyes red from crying, while her Nanny tugged a pair of plastic pants over her comically large diaper. She wasn’t wearing anything else. Her bare, womanly breasts, tight tummy, and slender legs clashed ridiculously with the bulky nappy on her bottom.

Just like before, as if she could somehow sense Katherine’s presence, the woman looked around suddenly, smirking. Katherine felt her stomach drop.

“Hang around sweetie, and Nanny will change you into a nappy and plastic pants of your own.”

Katherine fled again, breathing frantically. She had to get out of here! She had to! But as she ran, she began to feel an odd dizziness. She was slowing down, and her strides becoming more and more uncoordinated. Her gait widened, and she found herself lifting her feet too high off the ground, stomping the floor forcefully when they came down and putting her off-balance. She was toddling!

“No, no, no, no, no…” she muttered to herself, tears welling up in her eyes. She kept going. At the end of the corridor was a door. If she could just reach it…

Her knees gave out, and she fell to her hands and knees. She crawled desperately towards the door, tears spilling down her cheeks. She was so close! She didn’t even notice as her knee-length dress shortened, rising up her legs and over her backside, until her bare bum and pussy were on display. She’d been in such a hurry to escape that she hadn’t even bothered putting on underwear.

“Where are you off to, little one?” came the Magician’s deep, amused voice from right behind her. Katherine shrieked in fear and looked around, gazing up at the man standing above her with a wicked smile on his face.

“I… I… I was just…”

“It seems like you’ve been running all over the house, silly girl!” He reached down and patted her bare bottom. “That’s very naughty, sweetie. Daddy told you to get changed and meet back in the dining room. But it looks like a certain little lady was trying to escape! Did you think I wouldn’t know, Katherine? I brought you here with a snap of my fingers, remember? There’s no getting away.”

“I’m sorry!” Katherine sobbed, terror on her face. “Please don’t do anything to me!”

The Magician chuckled and, taking her by her hands, lifted Katherine to her feet. She was relieved that she was able to stand up again, even if her new shorter dress just barely covered her pussy.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m not going to do anything too bad to you. But you do need to be punished.”

“Oh God no!” Katherine wailed. “Please!”

“Hush baby. You were very naughty for trying to run away, and I think I know a very fitting punishment for you.”

Still keeping a hold of her hand, he started leading her back down the corridor. With a horrible plummeting in her stomach, Katherine realised that she was still toddling. Her stance was still wide and awkward, her steps still heavy and uncoordinated.

“There won’t be any more running for you, little miss,” said the Magician, confirming her fears. “And no more elegant struts down the catwalk either.”

Katherine burst into tears as the Magician tugged her along behind him. She was going to be stuck like this! She’d always carried herself with such dignity and grace, and now she was supposed to stomp around everywhere like some stupid three-year-old?!

“I heard you saw a couple of the other girls staying in my house,” the Magician went on conversationally, ignoring Katherine’s sobbing. “Little Lizzy getting her afternoon feeding. She used to be a particularly scathing food critic, responsible for the shutdown of many lovely restaurants. She was quite the snob when it came to food. Now she’s on a diet of nothing but breastmilk.” He looked devilishly happy about it. “Of course, most of the guests I have get to go back to their lives – their new ones anyway – but sometimes there are special cases. Since I made her unable to eat or drink anything except breastmilk, I thought little Lizzy might as well stay here with one of the lovely Nannies I employ to be her wetnurse. Then you saw cute little Jemima too. Believe it or not, she was a hardened criminal once, getting involved in gangs and doing all sorts of nasty things. But now she spends her days toddling around in her nappies, playing with her toys, and getting spanked for the slightest bit of misbehaviour. Her attitude is so much better now!”

Finally, Katherine and the Magician were back in the hall. He led her, waddling absurdly and flashing her pussy with every awkward step, into the dining room where they’d had their baby-food lunch earlier that day. The rest of the girls were standing around nervously. They stared at Katherine with a mixture of curiosity and dread. Abby, Madelyn, and Susie were standing close together, but Becky was a little distance away, still wearing a stinky, heavily soiled nappy between her legs. Madelyn was still nursing her thumb, and Susie had apparently not found any adult clothes to change into in her room, because she was still dressed like a nursery schooler.

“Little Katie here tried to escape,” the Magician explained. “So now she toddles when she walks. Isn’t she just the cutest?”

Katherine blushed bright red and kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

“Now then,” the Magician went on, “it’s almost time to have our first vote.” He waved his hand and a ballot box appeared on the table in front of them. “But first, you can all have a little discussion. Talk to whoever you want, or don’t. It’s up to you. But in a couple of minutes, you’ll all be voting to kick one of your number out of the competition. Good luck!”

He vanished, leaving the five women standing there, unsure of what to do. Becky started to move closer to the other girls, but Abby and Madelyn looked disgusted, and Susie said “Ewww! No! Stay over there Becky!”

Becky didn’t know whether she wanted to burst into tears or start screaming in rage. The nappy sagging from her hips was disgusting, but this wasn’t her fault!

“Look, I’m sorry,” Susie said, turning to the others. “But do we really want to spend the rest of this ordeal with a woman who might poop her pants at any moment? I think we should vote out Becky.”

“No!” Becky squealed, looking around desperately. “Please don’t! I don’t want to go home like this! I don’t wanna be a big baby forever!” She looked utterly pathetic.

Abby almost felt a little sorry for her, but she agreed with Susie that spending however many more challenges around a yucky, smelly, pants-filling baby woman was disgusting. But on the other hand, sobbing and crying in her nappies, the eighteen-year-old Becky didn’t seem like she would be much of a threat…

Susie and Becky continued arguing while the others watched. Abby stared at Susie, thinking hard. If anything, Susie was far more likely to pose a threat to Abby in future rounds. She glanced at Madelyn, and noticed that she was also looking at Susie appraisingly, her brow furrowed. She might almost have looked calculating if it wasn’t for the thumb bobbing stupidly in her mouth. Abby might have considered voting out Madelyn – she’d seemed so confident and powerful at the beginning – but being turned into a thumbsucker seemed to have robbed her of some of her authority. Madelyn looked up, and their eyes met. A flash of understanding passed between them. Katherine was still sniffling, mourning her ability to walk like an adult. She wouldn’t be of any use, but hopefully it wouldn’t matter.

The Magician suddenly reappeared, and Susie and Becky’s argument broke off. “Are we all ready, girls?” he asked with that horrible smile. He passed out a piece of paper and a crayon to each of them. They all hurried away from one another and, covering their work like schoolchildren taking a test, they scribbled down a name. One by one, they walked up to the ballot box and placed their piece of paper into the slot. Then they all stood around fearfully while the Magician opened it up, and took them out to look at.

“Excellent!” he announced. “At three votes, we have a clear loser.” He looked around, his eyes glittering with light. There was tense silence but for the wet smacking sound of Madelyn’s thumbsucking. The magician’s gaze passed over each of them before coming to rest on Susie. “Miss Taylor,” he said. Susie felt her blood run cold. “I’m afraid you’re out of the competition.”

“No!” Susie cried. “It can’t be me! Count the votes again! I couldn’t… I won’t…”

But the Magician was walking up to her slowly, and her voice died. “Awww, don’t be scared, little one,” he cooed, tickling her under the chin. “I’m not going to throw you out to the cold. I know just the person to take care of you.” He gestured to the door. Susie looked over, and saw her mother standing in the doorway. She felt as though a bucket of ice had been poured over her.

“Hi Susie-wusie!” Mrs Taylor cooed, with a very Magician-like smile. “Are you reading to come back home?” Her voice was slow and patronising, like she was talking to a very young child.

Susie could only stare in horror. Then, when she realised what the Magician intended for her, she turned round and ran. She only made it a few steps before her mother’s voice said sternly, “Stay where you are, little girl!” and Susie felt her body freeze. “Now come back here right this instant. Come to Mummy, Susie-poo.”

Susie couldn’t stop herself from turning around and marching back over to her mother to stand submissively before her.

“W-what have you done to me?” she whispered.

“This lovely man’s sorted out everything,” Mrs Taylor said, tilting her head at the Magician. “He’s made it so you won’t be able to disobey me ever again. Anything I tell you to do, you’ll do it. Isn’t that wonderful? Mummy always did know what’s best for you, and now I’ll have full control of your life for good. You’ve been a very naughty girl, Susie. Running away from Mummy, going off to university, thinking you can be ‘mature’ and ‘independent’. You’ve been very, very naughty – and you know what that means, don’t you sweetie?”

Susie whimpered. She knew what her mother was going to say before she said it. Those horrible, terrifying, humiliating words from her childhood.

“It’s smacky bum-bum time, Susie.”

“No….” Susie sobbed, barely audibly. She hated those words more than anything in the world. It was all her mother’s strict discipline wrapped up in the most patronising, insultingly infantile language. It was every humiliating spanking she’d ever received, right up until the day she’d left home.

“Yes, baby,” her mother said, talking in that same slow, sweet, condescending voice. “Naughty girls need red tushies.” She reached under Susie’s skirt and hooked her fingers into the waistband of her cotton underpants. Then, agonizingly slowly, she drew them down to her daughter’s knees. “There we go. Now over my knee, Susie.”

Susie fought as hard she could to resist, but it was impossible. She draped herself over her mother’s lap obediently.

Mrs Taylor flipped up her daughter’s tiny skirt, exposing her pale bare bottom. She patted it gently, as if savouring the sight of her wayward daughter back over her knees once again, and then she started to rain down sharp, painful smacks.

Susie screwed up her face in pain and humiliation as her bottom quickly went from white to red. She wanted to stay in control of herself, to preserve whatever dignity she had left, but it was useless. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started to cry. Her crying became louder and louder as her mother spanked her like a disobedient child, until she was wailing like a baby at the top of her lungs. “Dobbit Mummy!” she sobbed thickly. “P’ease dobbit! I don’t wanna be a little girl again! Waaaaaaaaah!”

The other girls watched with a combination of horror and morbid fascination, and in Becky’s case a tiny bit of satisfaction, as Susie got her bottom smacked like a little girl.

At last, Mrs Taylor finished. She helped Susie off her lap and got to her feet. Susie just stood there, crying her eyes out with her undies around her ankles and her bottom bright red.

“Thank you for everything,” Mrs Taylor said to the Magician. “I’m so glad to have my little girl back where she belongs. Do you think you could be so kind as to send us home? I think this little one needs to spend a few hours in time-out before bed.”

The Magician inclined his head graciously. “Of course.” He snapped his fingers, and Susie and her mother vanished.

[fagfictions]

National Anthem

Every 4th of July, the Wayne throw an infamous annual independence day party. This seemed out of character for them, especially since they weren't really known for being a patriotic family both as civilians and as capes. However, without a miss, the Wayne family threw an exclusive party every year, thus rendering them unavailable for the rest of the day.

If you find yourself in attendance of this infamous 4th of July party, you'll be met with very generic decorations as sparse red, blues and white were found in some room - decorations not fitting of those in the same caliber as the Waynes. There was not grandeur or splendor found in the way the party was decorated, yet nobody seemed to mind as the main event of the party has yet to unfold.

If you were to spot the Wayne family butler, he would give off a resigned sigh, and explain that this was how his masters liked it - which vindicated the last minute borderline sloppy supermarket decorations that littered the halls of the grand estate.

Once you finally find everybody, don't be shocked if all you'll be met was a congregation of men around a swimming pool while a lone Timothy Drake wearing a white bikini, splashed around in the pool. It would be jarring to see a barely legal boy be shamelessly ogled by almost all the men in his life, yet one can't deny the absolute joy found in his face as he showed all his Bruce's friends his tricks.

"You're here to celebrate America's Independence Day?" A new guest asked older guest.

"Certainly." Ra's brushed him off, eyes not leaving the exposed pale expanses of the sweet boy in the pool.

One year, Jason decided to join Tim in the pool, much to the dismay of the other guests. However, once Jason convinced Tim to play wrestle with him, which led to Tim's bikini top coming off after their roughhousing, everyone seemed to be okay with the idea.

After Tim inevitably tires out, he goes into his room to change, leaving some time for guests to go grab a bite. This grace period was usually the only time where guest can finally interact and catch up with one another.

When Tim finally comes down, he's dressed in tacky outfit of short shorts and an skimpy American flag tank top that barely covered his little tits. Usually, Tim wouldn't get caught dead in such a dreadful outfit, but it's all in the spirit of celebration. Or at least that's what Dick tells him as he helped Tim get cleaned up and dressed upstairs.

Tim usually then shares a vegan hotdog with Damian since he didn't want him feeling left out with everyone eating grilled meat. If that involves sharing a hotdog every single time instead of having their own and Damian slowly hand-feeding it to Tim, nobody seemed to mind. Call it whatever you want, but it's definitely a step up from actively killing each other all those years ago.

When the sky finally turns dark, make sure you leave some space in your lap as you may get the lucky chance of having the sweet boy in your lap. Tim who was usually now tipsy off mimosas, will climb into the lap of one of the guest, and stay there for the entire evening. There was no discernable pattern on who Tim chose, one year it was Commissioner Gordon as he nestled into his hairy dad-bod body, the next year, it was Roy Harper as he settled into that hard ginger body as Roy shameless started groping his little tits the moment he sat down. Last year, it was Clark Kent, despite Tim ignoring him all day.

As everyone settled in their lawn chairs, they could see Tim's slightly swaying body moving around the chairs, only for him to plant himself on top of Bruce Wayne's lap.

"Hi, B." Tim giggled as he looked up at his mentor.

"Hello, Ducky." Bruce greets back with the same enthusiasm.

When the fireworks show begins, you'll be able to finally enjoy the sweet boy in your lap - and that's what Bruce exactly did as he devoured Tim underneath the beautiful night of fireworks.

Everyone could only look in disappointment as Bruce reaped the benefits this year, maybe, they'd have better luck next year.

God Bless, Timothy Drake 🫡

[heartelysia]

tomb for two

cr: lalalycheeee

"dance with me the gallowdance" ; in which you can't stand the mercenary but he's determined to change that.

cw ; special jill appearance, caught, semi-public sex, train sex, hatefucking/hate sex, rough, enemies to ?, forced eye contact, p in v, begging, coworkers to ?, viktor mikhail appearance

note ; another repost from my ao3! ill work on a new piece (soon) :3

you hated him. you hated - no, despised - everything that he had to offer. so your first meeting sure was unfavourable, even if you both were in the UBCS.

"did the UBCS really hire a mercenary captain?", you said, your usually soft voice carried a heavy weight of malice and disdain. Viktor chuckles, glancing at you as he notices the big change in your demeanour as Carlos' heavy steps echo in the barren train carriage.

the mercenary avoids your harsh glare, simply scoffing as he exchanges greetings with the captain. your ears perk up at the sound of softer footsteps approaching, slowing down as their boots hovered over the gap between the platform and train. you glance at the figure, a beautiful brunette girl who had blood splattered on her body with a few minor scratches.

you render their rather lengthy conversation out from your ears, the sound of feet scuffling from the next carriage of citizens filling your senses as your gaze stares intensely at the special tactics officer. raking your eyes up and down her, almost like you were trying to carve a mental image of her in your mind.

"hey y/n."

the husky voice rips you out of your trance, you glance over at the source of the voice, your captain. the older male flashes you a small smile, "go with carlos. you two need to learn how to bond anyway.", he said with the heavy accent everyone recognised him for. your face scrunches up into one of disdain as you begrudgingly sigh, pushing yourself off the walls of the train, you wouldn't want to disrespect your superiors anyway.

jill's eyes follow your movements curiously as you snatch a radio out of carlos' large hand and walking off first. captain viktor lets out a chuckle at your childish attitude before glancing at carlos, giving him an expectant look to go with you. carlos looks back at the captain, sighing softly as he leaves the train, tailing you close behind.

light huffs and desperate heaves for air echo in the chilling night, the cold breeze brushing against your bare skin causing goosebumps to form, the streetlamps on the main roads used to light up the area and now they were in ruins with flames to light the path instead. you place your hand over your knees, trying to catch your breath as silently as possible whilst a wave of infected stumbled past.

you grunt softly, clutching the cut in your thigh that had been slashed by an infected, almost immobilising you as it tore through your ligaments but not deep enough to completely neutralize you. "fuck-... can't we just take them on? we both know we can.", you grumble whilst wincing in pain just a bit, carlos turns around to face you, still slightly catching his breath before gently scoffing. "look at the state you're in. can't be loosing my favourite coworker now can i?", he mumbles, dragging his eyes up and down you, eyes landing back onto the wide gash.

"if i'm your favourite coworker, how about you help me out?", you quickly snap back, glaring daggers at him as you lace your voice with disgruntle and sarcasm. the mercenary softly chuckles before turning around and beginning to walk away, you sigh before clicking your tongue in annoyance. you two seemed to never pair well.

"come on, this way.", his gruff voice rings in your ear, you couldn't help but feel the burning agitation growing in your stomach as his very sexy voice ricochets off the walls of the alleyway the two of you were traversing through. you drag your feet towards him, following him from behind.

the walk back to the train station was oddly serene - well aside from the crackling of flames and the groans of infected - the air felt fresh, could you be going insane? possibly.

the mercenary leads you into the train carriage, patting at seat beside him as he pulls out a first aid kit. you glance between the seat and carlos before sighing to yourself and taking a seat, "wow. must be your way of helping me hm?", you sarcastically ask, deadpanning at the handsome man.

he simply laughs it off, pushing the hem of your shorts further up your thigh as he begins to disinfect and clean the wound. "i don't know much about first aid aside from basically training but this will have to do.", carlos softly murmurs, a surprising side of the mercenary. you couldn't help but feel your heart flutter despite the itching disdain you had for him.

you scoff, grabbing onto one of the poles beside the train seats, "fuck you mercenary. you're the bane of my existence.", you grumble, glaring down at the man patching you up. "is that a good thing?", you sigh at his response, simply not bothering to answer the mercenary.

as silence rolls over the two of you, carlos finishes patching your wound up, wrapping it once last time with a thick cloth. you quickly stand back up, getting used to the feeling of cloth against your thigh. in almost a blink of an eye, you feel the wind get knocked out of your lungs as your wrists are suddenly held together with your back against the cold wall.

"what the fuck-?!", you yelp, heart racing as you glare at carlos. "jesus christ! a little warning next time?", you huff, brows knitting together as you frown softly.

carlos smirks, his hands firmly holding your wrists against the train wall as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "sorry, darlin'... couldn't resist the temptation. you've got this fiery spirit that drives me wild.", he chuckles softly, his voice low and husky.

it felt wrong but so right at the same time, you couldn't help but melt into his grasp, all of the agitation from him slow dissipating. he wastes no time, his hands gripping your waist firmly as he presses his body against yours, trapping you against the wall once again. the mercenary's lips crash against yours, a passionate and hungry kiss, his tongue teasingly exploring your mouth as your fingers tangle themselves in his messy hair.

the mercenary slowly pulls away, you slowly catch your breath, panting softly as his hands roam your body, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of your skin. his fingers trail along your curves, igniting a trail of desire in their wake. "fuck-... do you still want it?", he softly mumbles, his voice much softer as he checks in with you.

you nod, cheeks flushed with heavy breaths. you might not have said much but your eyes told carlos everything, every single filthy fantasy you've had. carlos grins, a glimmer of primal desire in his eyes as he watches your movements. "hold on tight then, 'cause I'm about to give you exactly what you're asking for." with a single swift motion, he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, as he positions himself between your thighs.

carlos' hand snake down to your pants, skillfully undoing the belt buckle with one hand as his lips latch onto the side of your neck. the mercenary pulls down your pants until they rest on your upper thigh, the material pressed up against his visible bulge. he quickly unzips his fly, pulling his cock out, the angry tip gently tapping his abdomen as it leaks beads of precum.

without any further hesitation, he thrusts into you with a forceful intensity, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the empty carriage. the rough friction sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, the sensation combining pain and pleasure in an intoxicating mix. carlos' grip on your hips tightens as he sets a relentless pace, his primal instincts taking over.

he doesn't hold back, each powerful thrust pushing you closer to the edge. the sound of your moans and his grunts fill the air, the raw intensity of the moment consuming both of you. carlos's free hand reaches up to cup your cheek, forcing you to peer into his eyes, "what happened to the bitchy attitude hm?.", he teases, his voice condescending his he ruts his cock into your tight cunt.

his hips slam into yours at a violent pace, the train seats squeaking with each sloppy thrust. the mercenary grunts against your skin, his brows knitting together as a string of moans and groans spill from both of your lips. with your back pressed flush against the cold train walls, his hands rest under your thighs, pushing his nails into your skin as it leaves small crescent markings of him.

your eyes trail down his arm, trying to resist the urge to throw your head back as you cuss him out, watching the way his veins bulge against his tight black shirt, his pants tossed somewhere else as hes lost in a trance. "fuck- fucking bitch... so much attitude but- but now, look at your slutty pussy sucking me in.", carlos groans, fighting back a cocky smirk as his hips rut into you at a feral pace, almost like hes trying to carve himself into your insides.

he releases a hand from your thighs, dragging his thick fingers from your ribcage to your tits, harshly pinching your nipple through your thin shirt as he tries to add a hint of pain to your sexual experience. you grit your teeth, glaring at him past the lustful gaze you have, "i-it fucking hurts-!", you hiss, hands shakily wrapping around his wrist. carlos scoffs, a hint of laughter in his voice as he jerks his hips into yours, his cock digging into your plush g-stop.

your hand instinctively pulls away from his wrist at the pleasure, your body writhing in lust as the man pounding your sopping cunt continues to toy with your sensitive bud, the coil in your tummy tightening. as the pleasure builds, carlos' rhythm becomes more erratic, his thrusts deeper and harder. his lips find yours once again, his kiss claiming and possessive, as if he wants to imprint himself upon you.

he continues to thrust into you, his movements becoming more erratic, his own release building. the coil in your stomach suddenly comes undone, your walls clench around him, he groans loudly. the sound mixing with your cries of pleasure with the lewd noises of wet skin slapping. "fucking hell-... what a pussy," he growls, his voice filled with a mix of dominance and satisfaction. carlos' thrusts become more urgent, his own orgasm crashing over him as he spills his seed inside you, his body trembling with the intensity of his release.

carlos softly sighs with relief as his cock spills his warm cum inside of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck. as the two of your highs die down, he peers up at you. "are we good now...?", he asks, breathily chuckling. you simply scoffs, pressing a small peck on his cheek, "sure. we're even now.", carlos playfully rolls his eyes.

"the tension needed to be broke... but like this?"

a sudden voice breaks the comfortable quiet environment, both of your heads snap in the direction of the voice. "ugh... get a room for gods sakes..", the brunette grumbles, closing her eyes as she turns on her heels just to leave.

[gabessquishytum]

Going back through your blog, I found the best idea that I'm surprised more people aren't talking about and that's the bad Sex Ed Dream, bc it just seems so much like him. No doubt he didn't get a good health education in that big old fancy private school of his before he left for Uni and got himself stuck in a dorm with whatever poor, disadvantaged youth the algorithm decided to throw him.

So Dream continues to stumble through life inexperienced and ill-equipped to handle his burgeoning sexuality. He doesn't know what to do with his slutty little pussy other than let his next boy of the week finger fuck him in the bathroom. Maybe he lets them eat him out if they've been good to him. But he's never been fucked. Not yet. Bc he wants a better man to be the father of his child bc that's how this works right? Couples fuck and a baby just appears? Condoms are only to prevent making a mess and don't even ask about dental dams bc Dream doesn't know.

But Hob does. Hob is around ten years older than Dream, one dissertation away from getting his Ph.D. and teaches a basic 101 course in history. He's not a total perv, but something is fetching about young college kids and their puppy-like exuberance. Dream just happens to be his next target after they meet at the help desk in the library. Dream just can't fucking write this ridiculous paper for his history class and is about to burst into tears when Hob helps him. This little dalliance leads him to ask if he would like a bit more money tutoring him on the side. Privately. In his dorm. Five times over the past week.

Now comes the downsides of fucking with college students. They're dumb. Like really really dumb. Dream is no exception. The weekend after their latest private tutoring session, in which Hob ate him out like a champ but on his insistance didn't fuck him, he finds Dream necking with another first year who also doesn't know what he's doing during a mixer. He's so angry he grabs the skinny little goth boy by the waist and drives them back to his place. Dream would have been scared if he wasn't so horny.

He forces Dream over the arm of the couch and rips his jeans down. Of course, the stupid slut doesn't wear underwear and his troublemaking cunt is on full display. They both find out Dream is a painslut as he begs Hob to forgive him by punishing him. How? By busting that cunt of course! Dream wails and fails, crying as sobbing as he's first spanked stupid and then fucked into with little to no prep. Just Hob's cock spearing into him, splitting him open over the coffee table.

Later on both of them agree this is by far the hottest thing that they've ever done.

But the morning directly after when Hob's semen is dry on his thighs and Dream can taste the previous night's regret on his tongue, they have a talk. Hob will have to take responsibility of course, and there won't be any family money to help them out. Mama Night is very clear about that. Any child of hers who gets pregnant before marriage is no child of hers.

Hob just has to laugh. After all, Dream can't get pregnant with him. An accident when he was a child featuring a flag pole and a too fast sled going down a snowy hill rendered him quite harmless. But he doesn't tell Dream that.

🎸

No sex-ed Dream my beloved 😭😭 I missed him so much 😭😭 and I love everything about this. Keep telling yourself you're not a perv, Hob. We don't believe you.

Of course it wouldn't be unreasonable for Dream to be anxious about a pregnancy scare after having unprotected sex. But Hob quickly notices that Dream is absolutely 100% convinced that he is pregnant. Like the stork already bought the baby. And little by little, Hob starts to pick away at Dream’s slightly odd understanding of how sex works.

Dream seems to think that every time a dick goes in a pussy, a baby is conceived. Doesn't matter if no one cums, and Dream doesn't seem to have any clue about ovulation or anything like that. Hob has to bite his own hand as he realises that Dream is just. Clueless. Innocent. So wonderfully, perfectly stupid.

The good thing is that with Dream under the impression that it's too late and he's already pregnant, he's much more open to having a cock inside him. So Hob finally gets to have Dream bouncing on his dick. He gets to bend his favourite undergrad over every surface in his dorm until the cum is dripping down Dream’s gorgeous thighs. Now he's had a little taste, Dream is definitely addicted and needy for Hob’s cock all the time. Sometimes Hob has to smack his pretty cunt in warning because he's being so greedy and impatient.

A few months pass by with the two of them fucking pretty much exclusively. Hob doesn't take an interest in any of the other cute barely-legals fluttering their eyelashes at him anymore. And Dream is only interested in his baby daddy <3

Hob honestly means to tell Dream that he's not actually pregnant. He does!! But. It's kind of hard when Dream is so convinced. Plus, it's to Hob’s advantage to have Dream believing he's knocked up. He'll say something soon, but... then he finds the pregnancy test?! And it's positive?!

Dream shrugs and he's like "Yes well I thought I should take one just to confirm." He doesn't understand why Hob is so gobsmacked. So Hob has to drag him through an entire detailed presentation on the reproductive system AND the whole story of how he was uhhh robbed of his crown jewels. Dream absolutely refuses to believe any of it for about 24 hours until he phones his sister and gets confirmation (poor Death).

Hob is starting to realise that maybe HE'S the stupid one because he's just spent weeks coming into Dream so many times that they've managed to achieve a miracle pregnancy. He can't get his head around it. Did he manage to knock Dream up? Is he being baby-trapped because Dream sees him as a decent provider for his child? Is the test a false positive? His groans of despair are muffled as he pulls Dream down and buries his mouth and nose in that gorgeous cunt. Dream maybe stupid (and possibly pregnant) but he's still got the prettiest pussy Hob has ever seen, and he's not done with it yet.

[ncityprincess]

bad

idol mark lee x makeup artist older?? y/n

this is just a little drabble i cooked up for mr. mark lee 😁 this is my first time writing for him so if this sucks oh well 🤷🏾‍♀️ i just wrote this for funsies lol. also it’s not really important to the story but y/n is like 2-4 years older than mark. nothing crazy. anywho, enjoy!

MDNI!!!!

your body jolted upright upon feeling a harsh smack on your right ass cheek. as the people in the studio slowly started to dwindle, you had been quietly cleaning up your makeup station and putting away all of your tools. today, you were tasked to do make up for the 2 baddies relay dance schedule. promotions season was always a fun time for you as a makeup artist. getting to see the action up close was the best part of the job. it was exhilarating getting to see the boys participate in all these cool stages and music video shoots.

“mark! you’re gonna get us in trouble” you shrilled. you and mark had been quietly seeing each other for the past few months. the members knew about it, seeing as you were practically always over at their dorm. but most of your coworkers were unaware of you and mark’s budding relationship. it wasn’t that you were hiding it, but being an idol meant keeping highly sensitive information such as dating under wraps in case it ended up in the wrong hands.

mark walked up to you with a smug smirk and grabbed your hips. “relax babe, it’s just us in here. besides, it stared at me first.” he rubbed his hands over your plump backside, making you look down at the ground shyly. you reached behind you to grab his hands with your own, and held them at your sides.

“you’re so bad sometimes, ya know that, marky? i need to put you on time out one of these days” you joked. mark pulled one of his hands out of your grasp and booped the tip of your nose. “that supposed to be a threat or something? ooh the pretty lady’s gonna punish me i’m soooo scared”

you looked up at him with sharp eyes “yeah, well you should be!” you wrapped your arms around his neck and reached up on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his soft lips. his hands immediately went back to their home on your hips and deepened the kiss.

mark’s hectic schedule often rendered him exhausted. even when you two would have sleepovers, you were more than happy to just let him sleep. he needed it. but when you two were both in the mood? it went down.

mark walked you back toward the makeup vanity, never pulling his lips away from yours. your back hit against the vanity harshly, causing a few lipsticks and brushes to roll onto the ground. you giggled against his lips “see, told you you’re bad.” mark let out a breathy chuckle “can’t help it baby, you make me wanna do bad things.” you two continued your heated make out, forgetting your surroundings. it was so easy to get lost with mark. he was everything you wanted and more. he made you feel so beautiful and free. every moment with him was lighthearted and carefree. you even forgot he was an idol sometimes, and that you two were technically coworkers.

that was until, someone had reminded you that you two were coworkers.

a familiar voice caused you two to separate from one another immediately. suddenly, the lusty, heated environment you and mark had created had vanished. “aHEM!!! car’s out front ‘marky poo’ ” haechan chided in a singsongy tone. he always loved to poke fun at your guys’ relationship, all in good natured fun of course.

“uh-yeah- we’ll uh, i’ll be out in a minute” mark croaked, feeling slightly embarrassed that haechan had seen the two of you in a pretty intimate situation. “don’t keep us waiting, mwah mwah mwah” haechan mimicked the sounds of obnoxious kissing before he giggled and walked out of the studio.

you ran your hand through your hair and chuckled softly. “you heard the man, you’d better get going.” you turned around and continued packing up the last few items from your kit. mark slung his black backpack over his shoulder. “yeah yeah. we’re still on for dinner at your place, right?” mark asked hopefully.

“of course, honey. shower up and come over around 8. i’m making fried chicken and macaroni and cheese. and bring back the tupperware i gave you last time. i’m making enough so that you can take some back home with you,” you smiled. “god, you’re the best, y/n seriously.”

“i know, now go! i’ll see you tonight, handsome.” mark’s large, sparkly eyes looked at you with so much joy before he rushed out of the door to meet up with the others. you smiled to yourself, mentally preparing for the romantic night you were going to have with your man.

you had just taken the mac and cheese out of the oven when you heard a knock at your door. a rush of excited nerves came over you, and you skipped over to the front door to answer it. “honey i’m ho—olyyyy shit” mark stuttered. he took in your form. you were wearing a red negligée and a black silk robe. you topped the look off with some red lipstick and stilettos.

“well don’t just stand there, come on in, marky” you said with faux innocence. you grabbed his hand and led him into your house, closing the door behind you. “come sit, i just took the food out of the oven. can i get you something to drink? i just got this new wine the other day” mark set his overnight bag down and grabbed a seat at the dining room table. “i’ll—i’ll take some” mark stuttered yet again. you kept up your innocent act. “something the matter, baby?”

mark’s eyes continued to linger on your curvy figure. he truly felt like he had won the girlfriend lottery. “you’re just…beautiful. so fuckin’ beautiful, y/n” you blew him a kiss and grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet.

after your romantic dinner, mark helped you clean up the kitchen in comfortable silence. “do you have the tupperware i told you to bring,” you asked softly. mark jogged over to his backpack to fish out the tupperware bowl and handed it to you. “good boy” you ruffled his hair and put a portion of mac and cheese and chicken into the bowl and set it aside.

mark mirrored his actions from earlier at the shoot, and came up behind you while snaking his arms around your hips. “thank you for dinner,” mark whispered softly into your neck, finishing off with an open mouth kiss. you tilted your head to the side, sighing at the sensual action.

“mmm, you’re welcome hun.”

“is it time for dessert now?” mark spun you around and looking at you with those signature large brown eyes. he was just so stinking cute to you, even when he was trying to seduce you out of your panties.

and of course, it worked.

“hehehe, yes, it’s time for dessert.” you let out a squeal as mark all but dragged you into your bedroom.

“marky slow down, we have all night” you giggled as he plopped you onto your bed. mark wasted no time tearing his shirt and pants off and climbed on top of you. you looked up at him breathlessly as he inched your panties down your legs. he paused for a moment before speaking up.

“actually, nah. come up here. i wanna try something.” mark quickly laid next to you and patted his chest, signaling you to crawl on top of him.

“mark?! i don’t wanna like…suffocate you or something.” you hesitated, but began to sit up and straddle his hips. “you said yourself that i’m full of bad ideas right?” mark shot you a cheeky smile. you rolled your eyes, then slowly hovered your hips over his mouth.

every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire as you felt his cool breath over your pussy. you were practically dripping all over the man’s face.

mark slowly lapped at your clit and you sank down further onto his face, allowing your body to get into the moment. getting eaten out from this angle made you feel like a goddess. mark had always been so sweet and attentive to your needs. he always went the extra mile to make sure you were well taken care of. the trust you had in him to be in such a vulnerable position mixed with the trust he had in you brought you a rush of euphoria.

“fuckkkk baby keep doing that” you grabbed onto your headboard and began to circle your hips in a steady rhythm. any other time you would have felt shy in a predicament like this, but mark’s tongue just felt so. fucking. good.

mark slapped your ass with both of his hands and pulled your body further down onto his face. he kept his tongue firm as he dragged your body up and down his tongue. you were positive you were about to explode any moment now.

“markkkkk i’m cumming. oh fuck just like that!” your orgasm hit you like bus. your neighbors definitely wanted to curse you and mark for all the noise you were making, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. mark continued to lick up your folds, and you tried to raise your hips from his face to relieve the sensitivity. mark eventually let up his ministrations and let go of your hips. you plopped down on the bed next to him breathlessly and stared up at the ceiling.

“holy shit…that was…AWESOME!! yo i’ve always wanted to do that not gonna lie” your sweet and silly marky came back to you and you busted out laughing.

“give me like 5 minutes and i’ll show you some new tricks myself.”

thanks for reading! please consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed the story 👑🍭

[veinsfullofstars]

Precious babies - I’m sure nothing bad will ever happen to them.

(ID: Reference sheet for my Kirby OCs, Para Dee and Bow Dee. Visually, Para is a young Waddle Dee with light orange fur, a pale beige face, peach cheek blush, brown eyes, and yellow feet. He wears large round glasses taped on the sides of his head and a green-and-brown plaid bowtie, and there is a little curl of fur swooping up from his forehead. Bow is a smaller Waddle Dee with red-orange fur, a beige face, pink cheek blush, big black eyebrows, brown eyes with a hint of sea-foam blue on the bottom, and gold-yellow feet. She wears a large navy-blue bow on the back of her head, the ribbon rimmed in pale-blue and wrapped around her head in the style of Kirby’s Fighter headband. Additional information below the cut. END ID.)

Just their kid versions at the moment, but there might be teen and adult refs for them in the future depending on how much story stuff I get around to showcasing. I got a couple other characters in mind for the Childhood Friends AU as well, but they’re still deep in concept stages, so no refs for them yet, haha. Also, if you guys want refs for young Dedede and Meta, lemme know.

UPDATE 03/11/24: Added shadows to bottom of the kids' feet.

Sketch started some time in 11/23, render started 12/13/23, finished 12/20/23. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 01/08/24.

(OC info updated as of 08/28/24)

—

Some facts about Para Dee:

-His name is just a shortened version of “Parasol Waddle Dee” - in addition to reflecting his Copy Ability, he has yet to find another name that he feels fits him better, so he keeps it as a nickname for much of his childhood and beyond.

-He is around DDD and Meta’s age, and a little older than Bow.

-He is the middle child in a pretty big family. While he cares for them all very dearly, being crammed in a veritable mosh pit of siblings gets to be a bit much for him sometimes. He hangs out with DDD and co. partially to get away for a while, partially because he was probably going to get roped in with them anyway.

-He shares a deep love of books and learning with Meta, though his interests lean more towards math, science, and mechanical engineering, with space being perhaps his biggest hyperfixation. Seriously, this lad can go on about nebulae and starships and quantum mechanics for hours if you let him.

-Para has an unfortunate habit of “Um, actually”-ing people about topics he knows (or thinks he knows) well, annoying his friends at best and making him an easy target for local bullies at worse…

-Unlike his friends, Para is not a very active or adventurous soul. He is easily startled, chronically un-athletic, and unlikely to harm a fly let alone another person. He much prefers quieter activities like reading and stargazing, especially from the comfort of his own home. The only physical activity he seems to enjoy is rollerskating, though all he does is leisurely roll around the park while watching the others fail at doing cool tricks.

-Though reluctant about most things, Para is especially afraid of heights. Even being slightly up off the ground has him scrambling to cling to the nearest solid object (usually DDD, who has probably picked him up, possibly with the intent to throw).

-While his friends go on about their lofty goals of being kings and knights, Para’s ambitions are relatively lax. He’d like to go to university off-world to study rocket science when he’s older, maybe even learn to build them one day, but that’s about as big as his dreams get, and even those could be narrowed down further to just seeing a real interstellar starship in person. Sometimes, he imagines flying through space on one, seeing all those stars he loves so much up close and personal, even if the idea of being up that high makes his little heart stutter in his chest…

—

Some facts about Bow Dee:

-She is named, unsurprisingly, for the bow on her head, which she has been wearing since she was a baby and practically refuses to remove without a lot of coaxing (stars help anyone who tries to take it off by force). She keeps both the name and the bow for much of her childhood, though she might not keep them (or her pronouns) forever…

-She is the baby of the group (a couple years younger than DDD, Meta, and Para).

-She comes from a relatively small family, taken care of by her two (extremely cool) moms and an older brother who is often away at school or out with his friends (usually to get away from his "obnoxious baby sister"). As a result, she is on her own more than she cares to be - hence why she follows DDD and his friends around like an overeager puppy all the time.

-She thinks Meta is the coolest person ever from the moment she meets him. She hovers around him constantly whenever the gang is together (to his slight annoyance), sometimes even mimicking his poses and gestures without meaning to (usually while Meta is mimicking DDD the same way).

-Bow was born with a Copy Ability atypical for Waddle Dees, that being Water. At this point in her life, the most she can do is manifest bubbles at will and maybe manipulate small puddles if she focuses hard enough. Sometimes, in moments of high stress, she can summon powerful jets of water from nearby rivers, lakes, or even pipes beneath the ground (something that has definitely gotten her into trouble more than once). She will get the hang of her powers with enough time and practice, especially as her interests in oceans, sea life, and sailing grow over time…

-Bow finds it hard to sit still and loses focus easily if she’s not already invested in something (much to her teachers’ frustration). But when she is invested in a task, she will go all in on it until either her energy runs out or something else grabs her attention.

-Bow loves sports and most outdoor activities, constantly bouncing between favorites (though she probably enjoys swimming and surfing the most) and getting super competitive when teams are involved (much to DDD and Meta’s delight, and Para’s dismay).

-On that note, she is the only one of the four who has ever successfully landed a kickflip without getting hurt (at least after the first time).

-Bow - who often forgets that she is the smallest person in the room - will challenge anything to a fight if it makes her angry enough. Literally, she will look a feral Gigant Edge directly in the helmet and put up her little fists like she has any chance at winning. The only exception to this is bugs - she will perish before letting a bug anywhere near here (something DDD never lets her live down).

-If she had a mouth, she would bite.

[artfromsaturn]

Saturn’s Free CSP Brush Recommendations, CS Asset Store Edition

I may sell brushes now, but I still love me some free brushes & love to share them with people.  These are a bunch of cool brushes made by other people that you can use to build up a nice library of tools without having to spend any cash on, perfect if you’re new to CSP or are on a budget.  If you do download these, be sure to like them & give some love to the artist if you enjoy them. :D

How to find: type in the Content ID or Ctrl/Command + C & P (copy and paste shortcuts) into the Clip Studio asset store on the Clip Studio application.  I’ll add a link as a preview but copying & pasting the content ID is easiest.  I have automatic translation ON, so sorry if you read some weird names.   Feel free to reblog this with your own suggestions, there’s many brushes out there I missed. :D  Check defsiarte’s suggestions too, and if you want to see my recommendations for stuff on Gumroad/DA & other places, check this tag.

Large Packs

“An analogue art supply" - 1813808 Huge pack of everything, including acrylic, oil, watercolor, marker, pen, & pencil.  I like the markers and sometimes use the acrylics too.

Crm's Toolbox, Watercolors, Markers, & other treasures

Fantastic use of texture and some cute effects pens.  The artist has posted everything from quality painting & drawing pens to quality glitter pens for writing.

The Old Default Assets - 1842027 & 1841759 These aren’t pictured, but if you ever see an older tutorial or video showcasing some default brushes you never had, it’s because CSP reworked its default tools around version 1.9.  Fortunately they rerelased them so anyone can redownload them. The old ones are still good to use, they’re just not included.

Painters - With Texture

Thiccpaint - 1707517 Never leave home without it.  I riot if I don’t have them on my computer..  They have the right combination of texture, shape, & blend with great handling and great variety.

Icyannyou's Momo Sets - user:Icyannyou Super cute packs that give a lovely painterly look.  The Storybook pack is fantastic, and even if you don't draw cute you can still use these painters & blenders to give your artwork character. :)

Thick Coating Brush Set - 1683127 I like these for background work, but it's a big pack of thick textured painters with good handling & neat effects.

Marredae's Brushes - user:Marredae This artist has a knack for textured brushes.  Very high rec, fantastic library of wet & dry painting/rendering tools.

Roro Oil - 1820057 Rompi is another user I enjoy the stuff of, and I'll recommend a few more brushes from them in other categories by the time this post is done.  Check 'em out!

Suika chalk -  1760304 Very useful rough chalk.  Sometimes, that’s all you need!

Sprongle -  1935694 A simple round brush with a nice rough tip.  Slightly rough without being too rough, great for quick paintings.

Johnnie halloween pack & Brokenhearted brushes... - 1876075 & 1938786, user:EnjieLemon EnjieLemon has some nice brushes in general, but some are paid for.  Still worth checking out due to their cheap clippy price (and clippy can be obtained for free).  The Brokenhearted brushes have a nice texture.  The Halloween pack includes a cute pumpkin stamp along with some easy to use chalk, oil, & watercolor brushes.  Compact and easy to use!

“Watercolor marker and texture set” - 1682349 There's a reason this set is one of the most downloaded on the asset store.  It's one of the best looking watercolor replicas out there, and even if you don't use the brushes, you can likely still find a use for the textures.  Great for soft coloring.

Grunge Brushes, Soft | Heavy | Complex Brushes & Xenomorphius' stuff in general -  user:xenomorphius Xeno drops some cool natural looking brushes out every so often for painting, inking, and dry media.  Please check 'em out!  The grunge brushes create a fun, grungy look like it says on the pack, & the soft/heavy/complex set can be used for painting as well as lining.  

Oil-h5 trial -  1976418 These brushes are hard to explain.  They work with the dual brush setting, & push around a layer of paint on top of your regular paint, creating a cool, streaky look.  They're a hidden gem.

MYNQZO brushes - 1993875 A pretty darn good set for painting.  I really love rough brush 2, it's great for sketching & rendering.

Painting, non-textured 

(basic rounds & other shapes for smooth rendering)

Kiminie71's Brush Set -  1728687 4 simple rounds that are great for rendering!   https://assets.clip-studio.com/en-us/detail?id=1728687

CHIMAKA Set -  1747974 Heavy drag paint that highlights well & applies thickly.  Great for bold shading.

Choms Paint -  1910936 It just gets me.  No further elaboration.

Honeypen<3 -  1786787 Fits great in my paint hand.  Very slidey & blends like intended!

Wet flat marker -  1917678 Super blending brush, gives super soft edges to paint.  Blends great.

oil mushblendiw -  1918739 Another simple & easy to use roundbrush.

Paint - 1760641 This plainly named brush is a triangle brush that goes between heavy & light with pressure.  The creator, Puppsicle, also sells some neat brushes on Ko-Fi if you enjoy this brush.

"The Scarlet Knot Brush Set 2" - 1916125 I use the watercolor of thought out of this set, but they're all pretty good & easy to use. https://assets.clip-studio.com/en-us/detail?id=1916125

Sunday - 1825825 A round brush with a watercolor border that gives a nice, sketchy feeling. https://assets.clip-studio.com/en-us/detail?id=1825825

Marker Brushes

Marker Texture Brush -1809506 A very nice subtly textured brush.  Has a nice instructional guide on how to get the best results with it. :D

Mirre's Marker set - 1749822 Another good brush with a subtle texture.  Comes with its own blender!

Woody Marker & Pencil set - 1772987 I also love the pencil in this pack.  Nice woody feel, feel free to turn off multiply.

Pencils & Sketchers

SU-Cream Pencil - 1761353 no wonder its popular.  Can be used for lineart, sketching, and coloring, this versatile brush delivers a great smooth look with a gentle textured end finish on pressure.

Write BoruPenP - 1753435 Probably the best ballpoint pen on Clip.  Please check out Pharan's things, I love them.😊

“Pencil-like Brush for Lineart” - 1692270 Ok this is kind of a weird way to recommend something.  It's SUPPOSED to be a pencil but I use it like a paintbrush with the opacity & density on pressure control, & another copy with blending turned on.  Whatever you use it for, you're sure to get a good result!

Grease pencil/china marker - 1774978 Chunky brush for chunky sketching needs.

Muda muda muda - 1715496 A pretty darn good dark pencil.

REDSketch soft - 1907313 just a nice sketcher!  Good for shading too.

MUGZ BRUSH - 1861032 A set of dry chalk & brushes.  Gives a fun messy look when used!

T Spade Pencil - 1769208 A pencil that looks great for lineart as well as sketches.  Good taper.

Magipencil 2 - 1755940 Utterly good for textured and smooth lineart.  These pens get me.  Can’t recommend them enough. :)

Pens & Inkers

G-pen 6 - 1767809 A generic name but a good Gpen with character.  Organic without sacrificing too much smoothness.

"Flat thick pen" - 1826131 I call it the card games pen.  I think you can see why.  Solid at high pressure, a little bit of texture at low pressure, and pretty great for sharp angles.

Haggiben_Lineart_Color - 1770988 A nice triangle liner.

Gabu Pen - 1894713 Very slightly rough pen on one side, another nice triangle-like liner.

Aeridus - user:Aeridis All 3 of their pens give a nice result.

Pilot Pen - 1895049 A great IRL brush now a digital one!

Fude set - 1726964 & 1759205 Heavy, beautiful ink!  The creator has some more good ink pens too, take a look. :D  

Dimi - 1763877 It's a ga,l with a knife and a nice calligraphy pen.  Can't ask for more. Turn on >particles "change with brush size" in settings to keep the shape without chaning.  

New Cali A nice set of Calligraphy brushes.  They have smooth transitions between big and small.  

Blend, Fill, & Erase

Noise and texture blur - 1842730 If you want a more painterly look to your blur, get these!  They said they're supposed to be turned from free to paid, but the artist hasn't come back and done it yet.  Will they do it?  I'm not sure. :0

Textured Blending & Blurs - 1904941 & 1971444 They're actually made by me, my apologies, but it's hard to find textured blenders by themselves.  Most are included in a set or are something you have to pay for, so I released a few free stand alone ones due to it.  Normal solid round blenders & blurs are easier to find & even easier to create yourself! https://assets.clip-studio.com/en-us/detail?id=1904941 https://assets.clip-studio.com/en-us/detail?id=1971444

Unhelpful Eraser - 1798605 The terrible hard eraser that you had in school becomes digital.  Download it as a tribute.

Quick Lasso Fill -  1978471 Fills up a lasso'ed area.

Random Color Fill - 1707873 Picks random spaces to fill.  The picture in the demonstration shows it better than I can describe.

Scratchy Coloring - 1845677 A fun scratchy brush that can fill areas up.

Quick Lasso Eraser - 1875033 This and the next brush are both @pharan​ ‘s again.  This does the same as the lasso fill, but erases as you can tell.

Erase along Edge - 1800143 An eraser that takes advantage of reference layers.  The description explains it in detail.

"Create Solid-irregularity set" aka adding texture to black solid ink patches - 1768052 These distress the paper, making it look more textured.  Easier to look at than to explain, click the link for more!

Mirre Cross Hatch Brush Set - 1972956 I love the look the spaced lines give.  Fantastic set.

Overlap Hatching (…"a texan"???) - 1712720 One of the most popular Clip Studio Hatchers for a reason, easy to apply hatchers that you can just keep adding to for a sparse or dense look.

Dust hatching brush - 1966237 Simple light hatcher with dust particles around it for a dusty feeling.

Cross-hatching Blur - 1684830

I actually recommend all of  user:もの区 ‘s stuff they have posted for crosshatching.  There’s a whole bunch of great free brushes there for anyone who enjoy hatching!

“Rough and Solid” - 1874629 A ribbon brush that makes good borders.

“Coarse Solid Erase” - 1872105 For those who like to fill an area, then erase the light parts away.

chaos brushes - 1569895 A great marbler.  

"Dirty cross hatching_monochrome" - 1727346 A nice, thick, analogue hatch.  SB has some great material in general, but most needs clippy.

Creepy Lines 1 & 2 - 1405766 & 1707236 Get some spooky lines into your art!

Simple Retro Halftone - 1802041 A small set that's easy to use to add some halftone texture.

retro halftone brushes - 1852027 A larger yet still easy to use set with more specific brushes to use for each color.

Mar's Halftones -  1949506 A set with a lot of fun patterns!  Check out SpiralPuzzle's stuff in general, they post some unique brushes.

Pixel Art

Pixel Brushes by tsiox - (small) 1971800 & (large) 1969097 THE Clip Studio pixel set.  Has a ton of tools & textures to use.  The small set is better for slower internet connections & if you don't want all the patterns.

Studio Screen Tones - 1803496 If you like Flipnote studios or need more dithers, get this!

Pixel Foliage Brushes - 1883082 I apologize for promoting my own assets again, but I promise they're useful if you're doing anything with grass, trees, or bushes! ;w; My basic set - 1910804 Another lighter set with a few noise brushes that are useful at tiny size.  Did my best not to overlap with tsiox’s set while covering the basics.

Bonus: two blending pixel brush sets.   Mao Pixel (1779745) & Scummy Pixel(1782455). They’re not for exact pixel art, they’re more for playing around with & painting. :)

[tennessoui]

for the prompt

“You always this quiet?”

for KUWKS? ♥️♥️♥️ love you

hello !! and welcome to the return of KUWSK! this is more of a teasing 1k because i think i'm going to try and put this ficlet as an expanded chapter up on ao3 soon! this takes place a few weeks after chapter 9, the ficlet where they get engaged

(1k)

(Early December, Five Years, a Few Months, and a Few Weeks after the Skywalkers Move In)

There is a very loud bang, followed by a very loud crash. Anakin stirs awake with a grumble, comforted only by the fact that he can hear his fiancé do the same on the other side of the bed.

“Your turn,” he mutters, turning over onto his side.

“S not,” Obi-Wan replies, and the mattress shifts slightly as he turns over himself—conveniently taking half the covers back and winding them around his own body as if it’s not late December and fucking frigid. “Yours.”

Anakin swats at him ineffectively, barely grazing his back. His eyes slit open to read the blurry digital number of the alarm clock on his nightstand. It’s five in the morning. “Get up,” he mumbles, reaching back again to push at his fiancé. “Investigate.”

“I cannae find my glasses,” the asshole says, even though Anakin knows he hasn’t even tried to look for them. “‘M blind without them, you know that.”

There’s another loud sound. Something has definitely fallen. It’s December 17th, much too early for Santa. “What if it’s your father arriving early for Christmas?” Anakin asks, rubbing his face against his pillow. “You know if I have to talk with your father before at least three cups of coffee, it’s going to end in tears.”

“Don’t care,” Obi-Wan murmurs, shifting more. He’s probably curling into a nice little ball of sleepy warmth right now, the fucker. “Go make nice with your father in law.”

“Not married yet,” Anakin reminds him. “‘S your turn to make nice with him.”

“Mm,” his fiancé says, which could mean anything. “But what if it’s a home intruder?”

“Your house,” Anakin points out, trying to steal back some of the covers. He’s starting to shiver. “‘Sides you have all those scary looking tattoos. Intimidating.”

“Mm,” his favorite bastard says. “But you fucked me so well last night that I couldn’t possibly walk, let alone defend the castle.” The word castle is split in two by a yawn. “Wouldn’t be very intimidating to a burglar if I can’t walk without a limp, he’d laugh me out of house and home.”

Anakin kicks at him, but the older man doesn’t even acknowledge his act of almost-marital abuse. He’s quite sure they’re both fully awake at this point, which makes him want to push Obi-Wan out of bed because it’s his fucking turn and it’s very cold and he’s stolen all the blankets.

As if somehow sensing exactly how close Anakin is to unspeakable violence, Obi-Wan rolls over and ghosts a hand down his back before allowing his fingers to simply rest against his spine. “Anakin love,” Obi-Wan mumbles, inching forward until he’s pressed against Anakin’s back. “Won’t you go make sure no one has broken into our house or hurt our children? I would, but you’ve rendered me so terribly incapable of walking after we made love last night.”

Anakin is going to marry an absolute dick. He pushes himself up into a sitting position and glares over his shoulder at his asshole of a fiancé. “That’s not always going to work, you know,” Anakin says waspishly as he forces himself to swing his legs off the mattress, glaring over his shoulder.

Obi-Wan’s eyes are closed as he stretches out more into the warmth of the bed, a sleepy, self-satisfied smile curling the edges of his lips.

“See if I let you bottom next time,” Anakin mutters as he pulls on a pair of joggers over his briefs. No need to give either a potential burglar or Qui-Gon Jinn an accidental eye full.

“Mm,” Obi-Wan says, rolling into Anakin’s warm spot like a goddamn cat that got the fucking cream. “I look forward to it.”

Anakin grumbles and keeps grumbling, especially when he hits his shin on his bedside table trying to find his shoes.

Obi-Wan shushes him and turns over.

“I’m going to murder you if the burglar doesn’t get to it first,” Anakin hisses in a low voice. 

Obi-Wan begins to snore.

Of all the assholes in the world, Anakin had to go and fall in love with the smarmiest, which is really just his luck.

But he is in love with him, so he tries to be quiet as he exits the bedroom and crosses the long hall from the master bedroom to the living room. 

There’s light spilling out from the kitchen into the dining room, casting flickering shadows on the back of the couch.

Two very, very familiar voices echo through the empty space now that the bedroom door isn’t blocking the noise. Anakin pinches the bridge of his nose and counts to ten. He’d almost have preferred Obi-Wan’s father. At least he can yell at Qui-Gon Jinn without feeling bad.

He rounds the couch and walks through the empty dining room, suddenly incredibly grateful he’d put on joggers.

In the artificial light of the kitchen mixed with the pre-dawn light, his children are fighting over a metal bowl filled almost to the brim with some sort of sticky, white, amorphous blob monster in early stages of propagation. 

“Give it,” Leia snaps, fingers curling into the mixture itself. “You’re too short!”

“You’re just as short!” Luke snarls back, face red and covered with flour. “Stop it!”

“You stop it!”

“No! It was my idea!”

“No, it wasn’t!”

“Yes it was!”

The metal mixing bowl clangs against the wooden cabinet as the twins swing it around. 

Anakin leans against the doorway of the kitchen and observes his little angels in their natural habitat.

“Luke! Let go!” Leia cries, and Luke shouts back, wordless with rage.

“So,” Anakin says in his sternest voice, even as he remains leant against the doorway, ankles crossed. At the sound of his voice, both little faces whip towards him, expressions frozen in guilty terror. A bit of sarcasm slips into his tone, though he’s sure it goes over his nine year olds’ heads. He cocks his eyebrow just like Obi-Wan does. “You always this quiet?” 

[robbingprince]

Correction Necessary

hurt/comfort, 5k, on AO3

Laurent knew, of course, that he could not subdue Damianos with force. Not with any weapon he could physically wield, not with his bare hands. He used to think he could get the job done with words, but they also failed him. Whenever he meant for a cutting remark or a scalding observation, his traitorous heart would provide a reminder of hurt brown eyes, and his tongue would stall, heavy in his mouth.

Rendering Laurent practically helpless.

Vulnerability was not something he wore with ease. Was not something he could get accustomed to. Was not, in fact, something he was willing to bear, for anything at all in this world, apart from Damianos, and… even for him it was a task of gargantuan proportions. It was difficult to keep his restless nature in check: it kept wanting to slither around worse and worse schemes, crueller and crueller manipulations, anything that would allow him some leverage. It was a difficult thing, to have none. Too difficult.

But planning against Damianos was not something he could do. Anymore. He had already hurt him more than was permissible, to anyone of this earth; he was already indebted to him. (Another form of vulnerability). Justice would be grossly violated if he attacked the man who helped him. Also they were married. And in love. And it didn’t quite do, to scheme against one’s own husband.

Still—and worse. A wedding band was another tie to an entity he could not match in any field. Damen was stronger, his reach was longer, he was more beloved, and more rightly so. He had the moral high ground forever against the man who had him whipped to near death, who kept him in chains, who had him raped. If—when he decided to strike against Laurent, it would only be understandable. And he would succeed, because Damianos always succeeded, in whatever ambition. He took not one but two kingdoms. He negotiated brilliantly with any opposition, no matter how dire (the Veretian council, the Empress of Vask, Laurent, on his worse days). He was undefeated in the arena. He was, Laurent thought sourly, a god.

And Laurent was Laurent: puny, pretty Laurent, who never had one success of his own to claim. First he trailed around his brother, then—his uncle, and now, this. Damianos was the one who handed him his first victory. Has been handing them ever since. And Laurent couldn’t even give his life for him, when it mattered. Useless, always.

He could not—fathom this feeling. Vulnerability like an open wound, cutting into him sharper and sharper with every turn. It seeped into all the spaces eaten away by his anger, corroded on his bitterness. It terrified him. And Laurent was not one to take fear lying down.

And so, he went for the only course available to him: acceptance on a fast track. To vanquish his fear of being vulnerable, he would make himself the most vulnerable he’d ever been, and force himself to remain there until the horror ebbed away. It was what he did with his fear of spiders when he was five. And of sex when he was somewhat older. And—no, there were no others. Well.

That was why he suggested the ropes (Which Damianos, predictably, exchanged for satin ribbons). And the blindfold, and the gag. A reckless plan with no fault. It would work, because it had to. He would break, because he had to.

It didn’t take long.

Gradual, at first, until it was not anymore. First, the blindfold went on, and the world extinguished, sputtered out. Then his wrists, attached to the bed post, and then his ankles, one at a time. It was happening. Now. He was breathing, mostly. Darkness grew. And grew. And grew. And Laurent was, irrevocably, immediately, entirely, afraid. 

The gag in particular was difficult, inserted into his dry mouth, secured with a cloth. As per requested. Laurent, naked on the mattress, had to force his muscles so still it actually burned. The pain helped, but only slightly; it… in his chest, this cavity that should not exist, opening into a bottomless, hungry pit. Terror. It was familiar in the most distant of ways. An exaggeration of something he knew intimately, a roaring hellfire from the heat that always simmered in his lower belly. Terror, it was terror, it was terror.

Ah.

It didn’t matter that Damianos was slow, that his hands moved softly. Perhaps it even made it worse. Laurent’s heart slammed against the tender flesh of his throat, trying to climb its way out. He was strangely cold. He was burning all over. He had already surrendered to absolute, obliviating fear.

Ha, he did take it lying down, then.

The laughter died, putrid in his mouth; the blindfold was wet. His mind was spinning. He was a small animal ensnared in a trap. He was thirteen years old. He was kneeling in a bloody chiton; he was not human; he could not even plead for mercy. Terror owned him. Down he fell.

Read the rest of Correction Necessary on AO3!