#unable to close my eyes because my mind is burning with the idea of glass shards

[hazbinshusk]

husk x afab!reader. finally expanding on my idea of torturing husk with phone sex while he's stuck tending the bar. unable to join you as long as he has guests in the lobby, and unable to reciprocate for the same reason, husk is left hard as a rock but desperate to keep listening to you come undone. featuring: sex toys, masturbation, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk, soft!dom husk, cherri and angel being pains in the ass, and a frustrated bartender. 1.4k.

Husk growls beneath his breath as the newly-installed phone on the wall behind him trills at a tone that he swears is specifically designed to grind against his last nerve. Which, knowing Alastor, it might very well be. He mutters an irritated curse under his breath as he unhooks the receiver and brings it to his ear.

“What?”

A soft giggle comes as the reply, and he softens immediately, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Y’know, we really need to talk about your bedside manner, baby. That was a little too hostile for one of the residents.”

“Doll?” Husk’s voice shifts, relaxing into that velvety tone he reserves just for you.

“Last I checked,” you reply merrily. “Now about the way you answer the phone…”

He hums, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Al makes me answer the phone. He didn’t say I have to be happy ‘bout it. Hell, if anything, the bastard probably prefers it if I ain’t.”

“A good point.”

“And I don’t know if answerin’ the phone at the bar needs a ‘bedside manner’, pet.”

He can practically hear the teasing smirk in your voice. “But what if the hotel resident is in bed when they call?”

Husk pauses for a moment, raising a brow. He glances towards the sofas on the other side of the room, where Cherri is entertaining Angel and with an animated retelling of her latest drug-fueled exploits. They pay no attention to him, and he turns his back to them, leaning back against the bar and folding his free arm over his chest.

“And where are you, doll?”

“Three guesses.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies, amused. “And you’re makin’ a deal out of callin’ me from your bed, because…?”

You mimic a gameshow buzzer into his ear. “Oof. Sorry, honey. Wrong answer.”

“Huh?”

“Would you like to play again?”

“…You’re not in your bed, then?”

“Uh-uh.”

Husk can’t help the small smile still playing over his lips. He winds the cord around his claws idly. “Then you are…?”

Your answer is wonderfully simple.

“In yours.”

Husk’s ears flick upward in sudden attention at the implications that rush through his mind at those two words. He can hear you breathe a soft laugh at the cattish sound of interest he makes despite himself. He glances back over his shoulder at the others and clears his throat. “If you’re lookin’ for me to join ya, baby, I’m sorry, but I think I’m gonna be stuck down here a while.”

“I know,” you say, and he can hear that your sympathy tainted with amusement. “I miss you up here.”

He hums again, eyes closing. He finishes the last of the glass he’s been nursing, the whiskey a familiar burn at the back of his throat. “Don’t do that to me, baby…”

“I’m sorry.” There’s a soft rustling sound that tells Husk you’re setting the phone against the crook of your neck. “Can I make it up to you?”

“Yeah?” Husk smiles. “How d’ya plan on doin’ that, exactly?”

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

Husk stops reaching for a fresh bottle in the moment he hears your breath catch softly. His hand tightens on the phone. “Doll. This is a new level of cruel.”

“Is it?” you ask, voice pitched higher. The change is only slight, but it makes Husk's ears twitch upward in interest. “Want me to stop?”

Husk chuckles, low in the back of his throat. God, how he wishes the others would just fucking leave. “I want you to tell me exactly what you’re doin’ up there, all alone.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You let your head fall back against the pillows with a soft moan, a smile on your lips as you hear Husk growl under his breath in response. You giggle quietly, rolling your nipple between your fingers.

“I need your hand between your legs now, baby.” he tells you roughly, and the tone in his voice sends a thrill directly down your spine. It makes you shiver, and you gasp as you pinch your nipple roughly. You've been teasing yourself like this, letting your hands roam down over your stomach to graze the top of your thighs before returning to your breasts... and every time, mapping out the journey your fingers take for your audience. His voice drops further, no doubt mindful of the others in the lobby. "I need to hear you tell me how wet you are."

"Yes, sir," you reply, smiling wider as he curses under his breath at the title. You let your hand travel back down your stomach, breath catching as you dip your fingers down between your spread thighs. You slide two fingers along your slit, hips bucking up into your hand as you graze your clit. "Oh, fuck, Husk..."

"Mmmm, baby..." Husk sighs, and you can picture his eyes closing, his head tipping back. "You wet for me?"

"Mm-hm," you nod against the phone, still toying slowly with your clit. "God, Husk, this feels good..."

"Oh, you're killin' me here, sweetness," he groans. "What I wouldn't fuckin' give for..."

"I can hold out for you, baby," you tell him. "I can keep playing... all by myself... get myself all wet and trembling and... fucking desperate for you until you can finally come and..." you moan as you slide two fingers into yourself, cradling the phone against your shoulder so you can keep playing with your clit with your other hand. "...and fuck me so deep and..."

The sound Husk lets out is a mix of a cattish growl and a groan, and you push your hips up against your palm as you fuck yourself on your fingers.

"You're already so close, aren't you, doll?" Husk asks, and you can hear the knowing amusement playing against his arousal.

"Yes, sir."

"Fuck..." he breathes, and it brings to mind the memory of his warm breath against your throat, his claws on your hips, and his teeth grazing your collarbone. "Fuck, baby, I-"

Husk's tone shifts, and you hear the muffled sound of the phone being lowered. "The fuck do you want, Cherri?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Woah, chill, kitty cat!" Cherri laughs, holding up her hands. "Just lookin' for a refill. You got something better to do?"

Husk swallows, shifting as his cock throbs almost painfully. He glowers at the cyclops, turning to face her. He stands almost flush against the bar to keep his erection from view. “You’re gonna wanna not call me that.”

Angel coos in faux-sympathy as he joins them at the bar, draping himself over Cherri’s back. “Ooh, I know that tone. What’s got ya down, Husky?”

“Y’mean aside from havin’ to put up with your drunk asses?”

Angel blows him a kiss, gives him a wink, and slides his empty glass across the bar towards the bartender. Husk, well-practised, has a bottle ready to pour just as it comes to a stop in front of him, eyes still fixed in an impatient glare on the two of them. “Y’know ya love us, baby.”

“What else ya got to do, anyway, bitch?” Cherri teases, swiping up her own refill. Husk bites back the urge to tell her to shove it, so, so aware of the weight of the phone in his hand. His whole body is burning with the knowledge that you’re on the other end of the line and he’s missing those pretty sounds you’re making for him.

“Yeah…” Angel draws out the word invitingly. “Ya could always come out and party with us, y’know. We can show ya the best places to get ya fur mussed.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Course ya will,” Cherri eye-rolls.

Angel’s eyes flicker down to the phone still pressed to Husk’s chest. “Ya got a better offer, pussy cat?”

Husk thanks fuck for his poker face. “Goodnight Angel.”

The porn star and his bestie cackle, and the former leans over the bar to smack a kiss the bartender’s cheek teasingly with an exaggerated, obnoxious ‘mwah!’. Husk swats him away irritably, and the two of them continue laughing on their way out the door.

There’s a beat before Husk jerks the phone back to his ear, and his flagging erection immediately swells again with the sounds on the other end of the phone. Finally, thankfully alone, Husk uses his free hand to unbutton his fly, pushing his hand into his pants.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You let out a breathless, high-pitched sound with each pump of the toy into your soaking cunt. You’d rolled onto you knees, the phone still glued to your ear despite the silence he'd left you with and your thighs quivering as your hips jerk against the cum-slick silicone between your thighs.

You'd been so close when Husk had been taken away, and the minutes he'd left you see-sawing along the precipice of orgasm is making your mind fog and your jaw clench. Each roll of your hips sends sparks of need and pure pleasure up through your core, and while the muffled, growling voice of Husk coming through the phone was enough to make you shiver, it's edging you just as much as the toy is.

So, when you hear the phone move and Husk's sharp intake of breath, it takes everything in you, eyes screwed tight and sweat on your brow, not to cum right away.

"Oh, fuck, baby..." Husk groans as you whine in his ear, his own voice torn. "Holy fuck, you sound so pretty..."

"You left me," you whimper into the receiver, grinding down against the dildo. It fills you well, but the smooth line of it leaves you wanting. Conjuring the memory of the way the barbs of Husk's cock tease when he thrusts into you makes you clench around the toy, eyes rolling back behind their lids.

"I'm sorry, baby..." he murmurs, his voice rough and breathy in the way you know means he's touching himself too. "Have you been waitin' for me this whole time?"

"Mm-hmm..."

"Such a good girl for me."

"Fuck..." you moan, pressing your forehead into the sheets. Switching the phone to speaker, you let your hand slip down between your thighs, breath catching in a squeak as you touch your clit. "Fuck, Husk... please..."

"Gonna make it up to you, baby," he promises, voice ragged. You can picture him, hand pumping at his cock, head back and a furrow between his brows. The way his chest moves staccato as he tries to keep his breathing steady, the way he thrusts into his hand. "Gonna reward you for bein' so patient..."

"H-how?"

"You're gonna cum for me," he tells you, all whiskey and smoke and raw, honeyed desire. "You're gonna cum so hard for me that you soak those sheets. So hard that I might jus' be able to hear you moan my name all the way down here, even without the phone."

"F-fuck, Husk..."

"Jus' like that, baby. You're gonna cum for me like a good girl," he continues, his voice breaking as he gets closer to his own release. "And the minute you do I'm gonna come up those stairs, an' while you're still layin' there in your own mess, twitchin' with tears in your eyes... 'm gonna come up there and taste you."

Moaning aloud, you quicken your hand against your clit, grinding down against the dildo as best you can. You can taste blood in your mouth when you bite your lip, so overstimulated that even the feeling of the sheets rubbing against your nipples with every disjointed bounce of your body over the toy does bring tears to your eyes. You can feel them staining your cheeks, joining the drool that drips from the corner of your mouth to mark the sheet beneath you.

"Husk... sir, please..."

"I want to taste every drop of you, sweetness," Husk almost growls, breaking off with a breathless haah for a moment as he tries to keep himself under control. He won't cum until you do. "I want to bury my tongue in that gorgeous, tight little cunt of yours and feel you fucking quake..."

"HUSK, I'm..."

"Cum for me, baby," he urges, and you can just hear the sound of his hand quickening against his cock under the tenor of his voice. "You're such a good girl, baby, c'mon..."

Your body curls in on itself so tightly as you cum that it hurts, your back arching and your thighs clenching around your hands. You feel your cum squirt out around the toy, drenching the sheets and your inner thighs, pooling around your knees. You collapse onto your side, body twitching with each aftershock, breath sharp and cutting around his name as you try to come down from the high.

Husk groans your name back in your ear as he cums too, gutteral and visceral and deep and it's enough to make your cunt tighten around the dildo again, cum still leaking out of you. It almost hurts to leave it in, but any move you make makes your whole body twitch and you're still trying to focus on breathing.

Husk chuckles breathlessly, brokenly in your ear as he relaxes, exhaling a shuddering breath that makes you shiver.

"Two minutes, baby." he tells you, a soft growl playing under his words. "You've got two minutes before I do exactly what I promised."

[mieczyslawsravenclaw]

Behavioral Tactics - Spencer Reid & Stiles Stilinski

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•Pairing - Spencer Reid x Reader x Stiles Stilinski

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Someoneʼs fantasies about having Spencer Reid & Stiles Stilinski at the same time (Why choose, right?) are about to come true, after a little bit of wine and a lot of flirting.

•Warnings/Content - piv unprotected (DONT DO THIS KIDS - AND WITH 2 DIFF DUDES JUST LET IT BE FANTASY AND BE HORNY IN YOUR BRAIN HOLES OKAY) ; A-Z all bases covered bc Iʼm one horny bish ; Reader- focused 3-some if that wasnʼt evident ; Spencer and Stiles are HOT SO JUST BE WARNED OKAY ; Mentions of alcohol, some lil bits of bondage and such thingies, SO MUCH PRAISE, petnames and such IʼM SORRY IʼM CHEESY OKAY

•Word Count - 3.5k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - Yaʼll this is just PURE self indulgence at this point, so if anyoneʼs also into it, cool cool cool - I pretty much imagine reader to be Stiles' age and they're in their mid-to-late 20's with Spence around 16 years their senior but you can imagine it however you want! // ALSO TYSM FOR ALL THE NOTES ON MY FIRST FEW WRITING BLURBS OMF YAʼLL MAKE MY DAY I SWEARRRRR

•Additional Tags - Switch!Reader but mostly Sub!Reader, Switch!Spencer, Dom!Stiles, Slightly Tipsy Wine Night Turns Into PURE FILTH, Consent AS ALWAYS Is Important, Brat!Reader fr fr, Boys Whimpering I JUST 🤌🏻

Spencer wasnʼt usually one to drink, but this was a special occasion, he says - the three of us werenʼt able to see one another often, and so a second half-empty wine glass was currently in his hand, in danger of being spilled as Stiles finishes his story and makes the older man laugh so hard his face goes red.

“You told him you would what?ˮ He crows, eyebrows raised.

“I said it once, Iʼm not saying it again.ˮ Stiles shakes his head, reaching for the wine bottle Iʼve currently got clutched to my side. “Hey, refill me, why donʼt you?ˮ

I shake my head; Iʼm feeling fuzzy and light, and enjoying the game of keep-away far too much at the moment to let it go. The idea of them having to wrestle it away from me gives me a funny feeling in my stomach, but I ignore it.

Or so Iʼd thought. Because the moment the idea crosses my mind, their eyes catch it. Micro-expressions. I knew the term well from many late-night conversations with my two close friends, as they were both FBI agents, one specifically focused on analyzing behavior. How had I expected to hide this from them? It was only a matter of time until-

“Sheʼs doing it again.ˮ

“Huh? Iʼm doing…what? Iʼm not doing anything.ˮ

“Dilated pupils,ˮ Spencer notes, as if heʼs diagnosing something clinical. “Reddened skin. Iʼd stand to wager…elevated heart rate, as well?ˮ

Getting up from their shared couch, Stiles reaches for the wine, but instead, his hand brushes my neck with a careful look in his eye. Iʼm fixated, unable to move or speak, or really even breathe, to think of it.

“Youʼre right on the money, Reid.ˮ He nods, his fingers at my pulse point. My skin is burning at the sudden intimacy.

“Whatʼre you guys going on about?ˮ

“Still playing innocent?ˮ Stiles chuckles, backing up. I let out a heavy breath, half- caught in my throat over a newly forming lump.

“I have no idea what…ˮ

“Weʼre talking about?ˮ Spencer finishes, licking his lips and leaning forward. “Oh, but I think you do. Donʼt you agree, Stiles?ˮ

Stiles nods, not even looking at him. Theyʼre both hyper-focused on me, and the attention feels both fantastic and utterly unbearable at the same time.

“Every time weʼve gotten together, the three of us,ˮ Stiles continues, reaching out a hand and beckoning me forward. They shuffle apart, making a space between the two where Iʼd fit…if I wanted. “Itʼs undeniable. The looks you give.ˮ

My heart is in my throat, eyeing the space that Spencerʼs now patting. I set the bottle aside, the game utterly forgotten.

“I-ˮ

“Did we misread?ˮ He raises an eyebrow, setting down his glass. “Iʼd thought for sure you were thinking of us all…together.ˮ

The sip of wine Iʼd been taking that turned more into a chug comes back up into my glass. I cough, pushing it away. Stiles takes it, making sure Iʼm alright before continuing Spencerʼs thought.

“Sweetheart, if weʼre making you uncomfortable-ˮ

“No, not at all.ˮ I blurt, looking back and forth between them. Spencer, with his hair slicked back and slightly disheveled, who Iʼve thought of time and time again but never had the courage to do anything about besides call out his name in my late nights alone with myself; Stiles, my best friend, my confidante…one of the most attractive men Iʼve ever known. The whirlwind of explicit mind pictures involving him goes back a long, long time. Yes, Iʼve thought about it. Dreamt of it. But for it to actually happen, to no longer just be a fantasy, was never something Iʼd anticipated.

“I told you,ˮ Spencer smirks, not at all cocky - just knowing he was right.

I flush. “You guys talk about me alot, huh?ˮ

"About us, sometimes.ˮ Stiles nods, still eyeing me and beckoning me to sit. “Look, really, if you arenʼt into the idea, Iʼll back off. Weʼll back off,ˮ He amends, a short glance to his side. “But honestly, itʼs been a long time coming, hasnʼt it? You and us.ˮ

His words are divine, luring me in. Iʼm taking his hand before my mind can catch up, and sitting in the space between them. The heat from their bodies is only a further spur into this dangerous new game weʼre playing, now.

“I think…youʼre okay with it, arenʼt you?ˮ Spencer murmurs, gentle but teasing. He brushes my hair from my neck, leaning closer.

“Youʼre drunk,ˮ I let out a nervous laugh, shivering at his touch. Stiles is mirroring him on my left, although heʼs a bit more brazen, closer to me, his lips at my ear.

“Not even close,ˮ He chuckles, breath tickling my skin. “A glass or two isnʼt nearly enough to get me drunk. How about you, Spence?ˮ

“Nope.ˮ

“Well, I-ˮ My eyes flutter shut when Stilesʼ kiss hits my neck, brain going fuzzy. Oh, my god, what?

“Are you?ˮ Spencer goads, his hand resting on my thigh. “Iʼve certainly seen you drunk off of at least twice what youʼve had tonight, and from that point of reference, Iʼm going to say youʼre more in the buzzed-to-tipsy range.ˮ

“Just say no, I mean it,ˮ Stiles pulls back, his voice a husky whisper. “Consentʼs more important, Iʼll just take care of business myself, if I gotta.ˮ

“Iʼm fairly sober,ˮ I admit, looking at him. Gods, I want to kiss him. I want to kiss them both. “And Iʼm okay with it if you are. If…you both are?ˮ

“Okay with it?ˮ Spencer laughs. I catch the edge of his grin out of the corner of my eye, unsure who to focus on.

“I want it.ˮ I swallow, ready and willing to admit to every brazen thought Iʼd ever had. The temptation is much too strong, the lull of their voices and hands and lips and eyes and… Oh, good heavens, here we fucking go.

“Thatʼs evident in your behavior,ˮ Spence teases, hand slowly inching up my leg. “Do you want to lead, or be lead?ˮ

Not one to wait on me to respond, Stiles is back at my neck, and Iʼm finding it hard to speak. Rather than attempt words at this point, I tug at Spencerʼs collar, eyes on his lips.

His gaze, heavy-lidded and lust blown, drinks in my desperation for but a moment, then heʼs kissing me - and what a feeling it is, to have their attention centered on me. All at once, distracting and overwhelming, yet I canʼt get enough. Spencer kisses like he needs air and Iʼm oxygen, devouring me to the point Iʼm almost being pushed into Stilesʼ lap.

“Hey, there,ˮ Sti chuckles, gripping me tighter the moment Spencer backs off. “My turn?ˮ

I nod, more nervous about this than even Spencer had made me. Something about Stiles has always just…gotten to me, that way. And now is certainly no exception, with him pulling me into his lap and pulling my face down to his own.

Kissing Stiles is much different than kissing Spencer; Where Spence is hungry, Stiles is almost animalistic, despite being entirely and simply human - he makes up for it in the passion he brings, deep and hot and breathy kisses that make my head spin.

“We should- uh, my room?ˮ I mumble against him, reaching for a hand from either one of them. They both take me up on it, and let me lead them up the stairs. I can feel their bemusement coming off of them in waves, sprinkled into the desire that has them so warm Iʼm already sweating in my minimal clothes.

Once the doorʼs shut behind us, and Iʼm sat on my bed, their gazes have mefeeling so indescribably small.

“So eager, sweet girl.ˮ Stiles cooes.

“Look at you, weʼve barely touched you and youʼre already squirming.ˮ Spencer smirks, slowly undoing his belt without breaking eye contact. “Think you can be patient for us?ˮ

My eyes flick between them, one locking the door while the other, taller one is approaching me; I instinctively reach for him, but Spence tuts, pushing me back.

“Guess not,ˮ He chuckles, motioning for me to move back towards the headboard. I have a sinking feeling I know exactly where heʼs going with this, and I whine in protest as Iʼm proved right - wrists pinned above my head, secured with the very belt that had just been around his hips.

“Youʼre gonna be trouble, arenʼt you?ˮ

“Of course she is,ˮ Stiles laughs, coming to sit on the bed with us. They both gaze at me, helpless as I am, with the utmost mix of adoration and desire. I had expected to feel enjoyment from this, but safety? Oh, itʼs the cherry on top of a very delicious cake.

“No, Iʼll be good - I swear."

“Of course you will, sweetheart.ˮ Spencer tips my chin up to him as he climbs on top of me. It kills me that I canʼt reach up and touch him, and with that little smirk spreading across his face, he knows. Between him leaning down to kiss me again, and the gentle but firm hands of Stiles snaking up my thighs, Iʼm breathless and pleading.

“Please, please, just-ˮ

Spencerʼs lips cut me off, and I let myself get lost in the haze of him for a moment, just a moment. My attention snaps back into focus when I feel my shorts being tugged down my thighs.

“You two…ʼtryna kill me.ˮ I moan, and I can feel Spencer smile against me.

“Actually, the likelihood of dying due to any type of sexual arousal or intercourse is fairly minimal, so youʼre likely in the clear.ˮ He quips.

“If I could roll my eyes-ˮ

“Oh, weʼll give you something to roll your eyes back for.ˮ Stilesʼ voice comes from right above my heat, and I shudder, bucking up to try to grasp any sort of friction.

“Calm down, pretty girl.ˮ Spencer chides, his hand gripping my jaw and bringing me deeper into the kiss. I sigh, giving in, and simply allow his kisses on my lips, my neck, and Stilesʼ slow and agonizing undressing of my lower half.

He lets out a low noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, once my panties are discarded. “Youʼre a fuckinʼ mess, princess. Is that all for us?ˮ

Itʼs all I can do to let out an approving whine, a not so subtle begging for something, anything to break this coil built up in my belly. My arms are starting to hurt from the amount of tugging Iʼve been doing to try to get free, but I can barely even feel it. I just need them, both of them, so badly.

“Cʼmere, get a look at her.ˮ Stiles pulls Spencer back, and he pouts a moment before focusing on me - well, the lower half of me.

“Fuck.ˮ Spencer groans, rubbing his chin with a slack-open mouth. “You werenʼt kidding. Pretty girl, youʼre wet.ˮ

“Are you gonna do anything about it?ˮ My tone is desperate, but entirely bratty. The looks I get from the pair of them tells me Iʼm gonna pay for that.

“We could just leave you there and take care of ourselves.ˮ Spencer snaps back, but I can see in his eyes thatʼs the last thing he wants. I donʼt have to be a profiler to know how badly he wants to be inside me right now.

“Or we could do it together,ˮ Stiles adds, watching my reaction. “Oh, you would like that a little too much, though, wouldnʼt you? Does that get you off, sweet girl?ˮ

I nod. “Okay, Iʼll behave, just please, touch me or something?ˮ

“Sheʼs so pretty when sheʼs desperate for us, isnʼt she?ˮ Stiles smirks, leaning over me tauntingly. One hand traces lightly over my thigh, ever so gently. Spencer sits right on the other side of me, his grasp a bit more firm, a lot closer to where Iwant them to be.

“Aw, I think she deserves at least a little something.ˮ Spencer cooes, bringing his free hand to his mouth. I watch in awe as he sticks his fingers in and brings them out with a pop, so sure of himself as he brings them to my folds. Gentle but swift, he inserts one, then two fingers, once he hears the noise of relief I let out.

“S-Spence-ˮ

“There you go, beautiful. Just needed someone to touch you, huh?ˮ

The long, practiced fingers of Spencer Reid send my mind into a tailspin; Unable to think of anything other than the sheer pleasure and joy of knowing this is actually happening, I canʼt bring myself to feel any sort of self-consciousness - I only know the sweet nothings they whisper, and once Iʼve hit my limit and cried out for Spencer, how they trade off and now itʼs Stilesʼ turn to learn my body.

Somehow, though his touch is different, itʼs equally as pleasant, from the tugs he makes against my sweet spot to the thumb rubbing circles against my throbbing clit. Only when Iʼve came for him, as well, does Spencer gently push him aside, positioning himself between my folds with a hungry groan.

Stiles climbs up to kiss me, and Spencerʼs kiss…is somewhere else entirely. Iʼm mewling against the lips that suck on mine, bucking up despite myself into Spencerʼs face. He takes it well, only gripping my thighs harder and pressing his tongue deeper into my core. I can feel myself leaking onto his chin, and like a man starved, he eats with a deepseated hunger and noises that make my stomach twist. Mumbles and groans of ‘you taste so goodʼ push me over the edge once, twice, I lose count.

When itʼs time for the expected switching, Iʼm aching to feel something more, and it seems Spencer can sense this; while he climbs up to kiss me, he also sets to releasing my binds.

“Wanna know a little secret of mine?ˮ He whispers, voice low in my ear. “Iʼd like to see you take a little bit of your control back…just a bit.ˮ

The release I give into Stilesʼ mouth as I kiss Spencer, now that Iʼm free to do whatever I please with my hands, is monumental. Iʼm tearing at Spenceʼs clothes, and he responds with pulling my shirt over my head, his mouth latching onto my breasts. I cry out, more than ready for everything this will give me. It doesnʼt take long for the three of us to get undressed, heat of the moment as it is.

“Please-please-ˮ

“Thereʼs no need to whine, love.ˮ Spencer murmurs, tracing down a pattern from my lips to my chest. “What do you need? Use your words.ˮ

“Someone needs to be inside me, and now.ˮ

This earns a chuckle from the both of them.

“Are we flipping a coin?ˮ Stiles quips, sidling up behind me as Spence rolls off to my front.

“Statistically speaking, it is the most-mmm-ˮ His voice lilts as I reach for him, eyes fluttering when I stroke. “Now thatʼs not…fair.ˮ

Stiles reaches over across my hip, circling my clit. “Behave, princess.ˮ

I rut back against him, earning a low moan.

“Someone. Either. Both?ˮ

“Now that sounds difficult to…position-ˮ Spence grunts.

Stiles takes the opportunity of my distraction to shift me a bit, pressing his tip to my folds. One rut forward and heʼs swiftly entered, making my hand and voice stutter against Spence. “Good girl,ˮ Stiles cooes, brushing my hair off of my neck and kissing at it as he works to find a pace inside me. “Good girl.ˮ

I whine - really, thereʼs no other word for it - and do my best to continue pleasuring Spencer, but the overstimulation of it all makes my brain go numb. Heʼs helpful, though, fucking up into my hand and echoing Stilesʼ praises with gentle and passionate kisses to my lips, my chest, my jaw. When Sti rolls me over, pulling out and climbing onto me before getting back to it, Spencer backs up and eyes us with utterly delicious lust, his hand pumping slow and hard against himself.

The noises filling my room are lewd, downright nasty, but the feelings are just so good, I canʼt bring myself to feel anything but disgusting pleasure from it all. Have we been here for hours now? Days? It feels like itʼs been forever and yet no time at all. The scratches Iʼve left down Stilesʼ back wonʼt be going anywhere for likely just as long. When the beautiful man wants to use my mouth, Iʼm ready and willing, and take his load without blinking. I doubt Iʼll ever get over the sight of him letting go and howling my name, either.

“There you go…did sʼgood for me.ˮ He praises, wiping the stray trail from my lips as he backs up, a sweet kiss to my cheek as well. “Spence?ˮ

“Only if sheʼs up for it,ˮ Spencer approaches slowly, eyeing me carefully. “How about it, pretty girl?ˮ

I nod fervently, and he likely would have laughed if he wasnʼt so overtaken. I reach out to pull him onto me, but he lifts me up and mumbles something about it ‘being my turn to be on topʼ. Hesitantly, I adjust myself until Iʼm hovering over him. Something about those eyes on me has my heart thudding so hard Iʼd almost think heʼd hear it; The noise that rips from me when I sit down onto him is almost criminal.

“Youʼre in control,ˮ He tells me, hands on my hips as but a guide to rock me back and forth. “Do what you will with me.ˮ

I set to making a pace with him, and to my enjoyment, Spencer is a whimperer when I do it just right. “You feel… fuck, you feel so good on me, baby. Better than I ever imagined, my mind canʼt even do you justice, and thatʼs… saying something, oh my god-ˮ

“Sweet talker,ˮ I coo, grinding against him just to get more of those wonderful whimpers. “Youʼre gonna make me… Spence-ˮ

“Please, cum all over me, youʼve earned it, havenʼt you? Been so fucking good for me.ˮ

“I-I need-ˮ The words wonʼt escape, so I simply show him, bringing his hands to my breasts and motioning, pull.

Heʼs a diligent submissive for the moment, doing as I ask. And the waves crash over me and out of me and onto him with such intensity I almost lose vision. More, I want more, and Iʼm begging for it so much that he canʼt say no, rubbing a pattern on my pounding clit until Iʼm seeing stars.

“Doing okay, baby?ˮ

“I could take you two…all night.ˮ I moan. The energy to do so may put me in a coma, but…

“I wanna cum in you,ˮ He grips my chin, forcing me to look straight into his eyes. “Can I? Is that okay?ˮ

"Yes, so very okay.ˮ

As Spencer chases his high, heʼs sloppier and thrusting up into me with the loudest noises of the night from him, and again I lose count of the edges he sends me over; A sweet melody, him calling out to me as he topples over his edge and comes down, both of us running down the space where we meet. I collapse onto his chest, and he strokes my hair, soft and sweet praises and kisses a stark contrast to the dirty things weʼd all done together tonight.

A strange noise rips from the edge of the bed, and we turn to look and see Stiles, completely passed out and snoring.

“Is he…?ˮ

“He is.ˮ

We laugh, careful not to wake the poor boy as Spencer gets to work cleaning me up. Once heʼs done so, I tug Stiles up into bed with us, relishing in them holding me on either side.

“Mmmm…sleepy.ˮ He groans, snuggling into me. “That was fuckinʼ something.ˮ

“Very much something.ˮ Spencer agrees, smirking on the other side of me.

“Something we should do again sometime?ˮ

“Yes!ˮ Stiles whines. “Just…lemme sleep more first, and Iʼm ready…tʼgo…ˮ

Spencer and I laugh again, and itʼs clearly a unanimous decision - this will happen again. And thank the gods, because I certainly havenʼt gotten enough of them just yet.

[rfaromance]

Bright.

Blindingly bright.

Saeyoung squinted as he stepped out from his workroom, blinking vigorously as his eyes tried to adjust to the light.

When he was in his "office," as he called it with a tongue-in-cheek chuckle, he entrenched himself in almost total darkness. Only the faint glow of screens illuminated the din.

But when he walked out into the living space of his bunker, where a warm smile greeted him from the kitchen....

Dizzyingly, dazzlingly bright.

"Saeyoung!" Her voice was music to his ears as she called out to him cheerfully. "Are you finally done working? Come over and eat!"

He plopped down in a stool on the other side of the kitchen counter, then craned his neck to try to see what she had prepared for him. "I didn't hear the fire alarm," he commented, unable to suppress his amusement as he did so.

She quickly wiped the smirk off his face by smacking him with a hand towel. "Today's meal was incident-free!" she huffed. "If only because... I've been banned from using the oven until we get new oven mitts."

Saeyoung could feel the heat radiating off her face in waves. "And I promised you can pick them out. Whatever mitts make you happy." He knew she didn't mean to burn a hole straight through the fabric of the old mitt. "Come on, now. Show me what you made!" Eager to change the topic, he adjusted his glasses and tried to sneak another peek at her creation.

"Yes!" Her eyes lit up in excitement as she turned to grab the dish she had prepared. "Today I made... ahem." She paused and cast him a quick glance.

At her cue, Saeyoung began to drum his hands against the counter, preparing for a grand entrance.

"A PhD Parfait!" With a dramatic flourish, she slid a bowl in front of Saeyoung's face, close enough that he almost ended up with yogurt atop his freckled nose.

No longer suppress his giggles, Saeyoung echoed gleefully, "PhD Parfait!" Propping his elbows up and leaning forward, he purred, "Well, I must know, what layers of study went into this parfait's degree?"

"This parfait has its base studies in vanilla yogurt and granola," she began. "It then proceeded to get a master's in honey drizzle, with extra classes in blueberry and strawberry, then naturally a thesis on chopped cherry!" He could almost hear her chest thumping as she tucked her head down shyly. "I wanted to turn your favorite flavors into something healthy... I hope you don't mind the sliced almonds that I added for protein. Plus... you're quite nutty, so they fit."

With an indignant snort, Saeyoung folded his arms over his chest. He quickly stuck his tongue out and winked at her to let her know he was just joking, though. Eagerly he picked up his spoon and began to dig into the parfait.

By playing around, he could hide the tears in his eyes and the blush on his cheeks at how touched he was that she was this thoughtful and sweet.

"What do you want to do this afternoon?" he asked in between bites. "Now that I'm finished working for today."

"Hmm..." She slung her apron over the hook on the side of the refrigerator, before coming back to sit beside him. "Can we stay in? It's supposed to be really cold today."

Saeyoung nodded slowly. "Right. You don't handle the cold well." He knew her joints became stiff when the temperature dropped too low, and overall she would function more slowly. "We can stay inside. Is it a video game day, a binge-watch day, or continue working on the moving basketball hoop day?"

"I still don't understand why you want to make it move!" she groaned. "I'm bad enough at basketball when the hoop stays still! Why can't we make a robot that retrieves tennis balls? Since we're both awful at tennis."

Saeyoung shook his head. "I get my tennis workout by running after all the balls we miss!" he explained. "Unless you have any other ideas?" His voice grew soft as he added, "We'll do whatever makes you happy."

He could almost see the gears turning in her head as she fumbled around for an answer. "Oh!" Like a light bulb had gone off inside her, she asked, "Do we still have those model rockets? The wooden ones? Let's put them together and then paint them!"

"Mm, yeah." He nodded, finishing his bite full of berries before continuing. "Check where we keep the board games."

Hastily she sprang up, clearly excited to get started, but almost immediately she fell back into her seat.

At once, Saeyoung jumped to his feet, turning towards her with concern. "Honey! Are you okay?"

"Of course, of course." She waved him off dismissively. "I just stood up too fast. I'm fine!" As if to prove herself, she jumped up again, only to teeter and collapse back into her seat again.

Saeyoung's brow furrowed and he reached over to place his arms around her for support. "Come here. Let me take you to the couch. When's the last time I checked your vitals?"

She shook her head uncertainly. "I... can't access my calendar. That's strange. Is it updating right now?"

Fighting hard to keep a calm smile on his face, Saeyoung led her to the couch. Once he was sure she was seated firmly, he reached underneath the couch and pulled out a metal box. "Let me check you over real quick, get you something to fuel up, and then we paint. Would that make you happy?"

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan, dear!"

Dizzyingly bright.

He parted her dark hair to the side and lifted her shirt, exposing her delicate back. He slid his goggles on and pulled out his flashlight and screwdriver, as he carefully removed her back panel to reveal the motherboard underneath. "No wonder she's feeling off," he mumbled as he put his screwdriver down and began searching in his toolbox for his soldering iron. "These wires are frayed. I'll need to make replacements tonight."

Excitement. Joy. Curiosity. Embarrassment. Mischief. Love.

He had done his best to recreate every aspect of her, from the color of the bulbs in her eyes to the shade of fiber for her hair, from the spray paint he used for her skin to the synthesizer he selected for her voice. He wanted to capture her broad range of emotions and the intensity with which she felt them. He hadn't been sure such a feat would be possible, but after trial and error, he had finally created almost an exact likeness of the woman he loved.

Almost exact, for two reasons:

First, because God Seven was no god at all but a mere human, and he could not ever hope to recreate his departed angel perfectly.

Second, because he had chosen not to program her with sadness.

Sadness. Sorrow. Despair. Agony. Misery. Emptiness.

She would only know bliss. She would be happy for the rest of their lives.

Saeyoung would never, ever need to see tears fall from his beloved's face ever again.

He wouldn't lose her to misfortune and misery a second time.

"Are you happy?" he whispered, barely audible as he fused the frayed wires back together.

"I'm always happy when I'm with you!" she chirped back, sitting patiently as Saeyoung worked his repairs.

I hope it's bright and happy where you are.

(loosely inspired by this art by @itsmeohmyo )

[coramatus]

there were no instructions or fine print (part 8)

“To restore the lost, find my form and sacrifice yours”

Or

That time Ingo got turned into a Sneasel because there were no instructions or fine print on the ancient mystical artifact

Based on ideas of the Transfer Error AU by @rosebloodcat on Tumblr

part one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

catching up

tw/cw: trauma flashbacks of body horror

One messy bandage change and a few choked down pills later, the three sit splayed out on the couch, utterly exhausted from what should have been a simple task.

Slumped in his seat and breathing heavily in dazed shock, Emmet looks like an explosion went off in his face. His messy gray hair is an even bigger mess and his sharply styled sideburns are completely undone. His sleeves have been pushed up to reveal arms sporting more than a few scratches and bites. Though some have drawn blood, all of them are relatively superficial.

Sitting beside Emmet, a thoroughly frazzled and rebandaged Ingo stews in utter mortification, his face buried in his claws.

He can’t believe himself! How had he completely lost it like that?? It was like his Sneasel side tore the controls from his human side, overriding all reason and sanity. It made no sense!

As Ingo replays the events in his mind, trying to figure out what happened, he feels a curled metal arm pat his back. Drawn from his anxious thoughts, he looks up to see Chandelure hovering close by. Though their flames are burning lower and dimmer than normal, their eyes are still bright and attentive, squinting clinically at his rebound chest.

“Does it still hurt?” their glass hums in worry.

“Yeah. A lot…” Ingo says, unable to keep a wince from his voice.

In his fleeing panic, parts of his healing injuries had reopened under the strain, blood quickly soaking through the gauze. It wasn’t bad enough to warrant a second hospital visit, but enough to require the application of a potion and extra dressing to stem the bleeding. Without the adrenaline, his side feels like it’s on fire, but the painkillers are steadily dulling it to more bearable levels. He tells Chandelure as much.

“Good. Maybe that will teach your Sneasel-brain not to fight it so hard next time,” they gently tease. A little more hesitantly, Chandelure continues, “Has that Sneasel-brain finally calmed down?”

“It’s better…” Ingo replies softly. Shaking his head in shame, he sighs, “I just can’t believe that happened. I thought I had a handle on everything.”

Up until that moment, Ingo didn’t think there even was a dichotomy. Despite the Sneasel body, he still felt very much like himself, even if he was more prone to biting and hissing. It seemed as if the two sides of himself were easily coexisting.

But this outburst has proven there’s more going on here. There is tension, he just doesn’t know the root cause of it.

He looks down at himself, his claws flexing in thought. At his best guess, his Sneasel body is young, about three to four months old; only halfway grown and unlearned in the world. To a developing mind, anything and everything poses both novel and frightening new experiences.

Was that the disconnect?

Could said baby Sneasel instincts misread the signals of a mature human mind? That maybe the memories of a seasoned adult human might cause an overreaction to ideas and actions the Sneasel side was unprepared for?

Wait, that didn’t make sense…

Of course, he’s only been at this for less than twelve hours. There’s so much he doesn’t know yet. Thinking about it, Ingo suddenly isn’t sure how his human and Sneasel sides are meant to interact, if at all. He’s setting down brand new tracks here and it is already proving a daunting task.

As Ingo works his way through his newest problem, Emmet finally scrapes together enough of his wits to speak again.

“Um, sorry to interrupt you guys…” he says demurely, his voice rough and his expression unsure, “Would it be alright if I spoke to Ingo privately, Chandelure?”

The two Pokémon exchange looks, unsure of what Emmet would need Ingo alone for. But Ingo nods to Chandelure in reassurance.

As Chandelure starts to reluctantly hover away with far less speed than strictly necessary, their glowing eyes turn to Ingo, their glass chiming with a reminder,

“If anything goes wrong again, just shout for us. We’re here for you.”

Ingo gives them a small grateful smile, chriping, “Thank you, Chandelure.”

As they make their way past Emmet, they come to a surprised stop when he reaches out to them.

“Thanks for your help,” Emmet smiles, his hand gently touching their glass. Leaning in, he cups his mouth and whispers conspiratorially, “I’ll get you an extra treat later.”

Chandelure’s eyes brighten and they twirl away in the air with a pleased chime. The quick tap of a button returns them to their Pokéball in a flash of red light.

With Chandelure secured, Ingo looks up at Emmet expectantly, his ears cocked in curiosity.

Emmet doesn’t speak, not immediately. He seems to shrink in on himself, his smile faltering as he bites his lower lip. His eyes focus on a hole in his sleeve that his fingers absentmindedly worry at. He doesn’t seem ready for this.

Reaching out, Ingo clutches his brother’s hand between his paws, squeezing gently to signal him to continue. He knows his message has been received when Emmet squeezes his claws in return.

Taking a deep breath, Emmet shifts his body to fully face Ingo. Smiling pensively, his voice is soft, hesitant.

“I… I am not sure where to start…” he murmurs, his eyes unable to meet Ingo’s as he searches for his words, “I just— I want to ask you… too many things.” His voice grows more strained and quiet as he continues, “There is so much I do not know. So much has happened to you. To us both.”

Even though he feels his ears pull back in worry, Ingo’s gaze does not wander from Emmet as he squeezes his hand again.

Swallowing thickly, Emmet clasps both hands over Ingo’s clawed paws, making direct eye contact as he openly begs,

“Ingo, tell me… please… What happened?”

Moisture gathers in the corners of Emmet’s eyes as he sniffs wetly, his face crumpling as years of pain bubble up in his chest. With a panging heart, his voice cracks and wavers as the words tumble from his lips,

“You just vanished. Where did you go? Why did you go? Was it… s-something I did? What have you been doing this whole time? Why are you a Sneasel? Did someone do this to you? Why?? Why did any of this happen?”

His breath hitches with a sob, unable to continue as he breaks down crying.

Ingo is immediately there on Emmet’s lap, trilling mournfully as he rubs his face against his brother’s cheek. At his touch, Emmet whimpers and wraps his small form up in a careful hug. He rests a hand on Ingo’s head, his fingers rhythmically stroking his soft purple fur. Closing his eyes, Ingo leans into the gentle petting.

The ache in their souls caused by their separation is all too clear. No more words are exchanged, the two holding each other in comfort, silent save for Emmet’s soft gasps as he weeps.

“I just don’t understand…” he hiccups, “None of this ever made any sense. There were never any answers…”

Ingo churrs in sadness, wishing he could have said goodbye before getting tossed into Hisui. At least then, Emmet would not be caught so tightly in this unknowing limbo.

Emmet deserves answers.

Ingo gives Emmet another cuddle before starting to wriggle out of his hold. Thankfully, his brother is quick to yield and Ingo is set free to search the space around them. He spots the whiteboard and marker within reach and retrieves them, quickly getting to work on answering the most important question of all. The sharp squeaks of the marker punctuate his furious scribbling before he thrusts the board straight into Emmet’s face.

Emmet blinks, taking the board with shaking hands and silently reading the message. He raises a hand to cover his mouth, fresh tears threatening to spill as he takes in Ingo’s words:

THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT!!!

“N-Not my fault…” Emmet breathes out, his sight fixated on that line. His body seems to sag as he sniffles, scrubbing a sleeve over his wet eyes, a relieved smile slowly spreading across his face, “It’s not my fault… I—I was so afraid I drove you away somehow…”

Ingo shakes his head vehemently. Though he may not have remembered the specifics, he had always known in the back of his mind that he had been railroaded into Hisui, never having a choice in the matter. He crawls back into Emmet’s lap and butts his head against the underside of his chin, a reassuring purr rumbling through his body.

Though small, Emmet’s smile as he hugs Ingo again is starting to brighten into genuine joy. His smile only broadens as Ingo politely motions for the board. Letting go of his Sneaseled brother, Emmet hands the whiteboard back into Ingo’s claws.

The writing takes longer this time as Ingo has to think about how to answer Emmet’s flurry of questions that are already fading from memory. But he has the general gist of them and opts for concise answers:

IDK WHAT HAPPENED OR WHY B/C AMNESIA

ENDED UP IN HISUI FOR 4 YEARS

DID LOTS OF THINGS THERE LONG STORY

SNEASEL THING B/C MAGIC(???) ACCIDENT

Passing the board to Emmet, Ingo watches as his brother processes his writing. Several different expressions flit over his face before settling on an outright confused smile.

“It sounds like your tracks got switched without your authorization,” he speculates. His puzzled look deepens as he rereads the second line, “And sent you to… ‘Hisui’? Where is that?”

Ingo has to think about this one. He was never very clear on Hisui’s relative location in the world. Though they came from all over the globe, a decent portion of the settlers and Galaxy Team members claimed to hail from places like Johto, Kanto and Hoenn. Those were all fairly close together last he checked.

NOT SURE NEAR KANTO OR JOHTO REGIONS? MAYBE HOENN?

Emmet’s eyes widen in realization.

“Sinnoh!” he breathes.

For a split second, Ingo feels his heart skip a beat, shocked that Emmet somehow knows the term for his clan’s god.

“You were in Sinnoh!” Emmet exclaims excitedly, pointing at Ingo, “That’s why you’re a Sinnohan Sneasel!”

Ingo’s shock quickly fades. Apparently the Galaxy Team’s renaming of Hisui stuck. Something about that makes part of him ache at the realization…

He refocuses on Emmet and nods, but then thinks better of it and scribbles in a correction.

HISUIAN SNEASEL BUT YES

“Hisui must be an old timey name for Sinnoh then,” Emmet muses as he sits back. He tilts his head curiously, “Did you get stuck out in the boonies? Where no one wants to call it Sinnoh because of ‘tradition’ or whatever?”

The thought gives Ingo pause. He’s not sure how Emmet will take this. His poor brother doesn’t need another shock to his system. But he needs to tell him sooner or later. Reluctantly, he gives Emmet the truth.

PRETTY SURE I GOT SENT TO THE PAST

Ingo watches his brother’s smile falter as he stares at the board with widening eyes.

“…t-time travel,” Emmet says weakly.

A bit of the Pearl Clan in Ingo nudges him to correct Emmet. He can just imagine Lady Irida’s voice scolding him that time travel means nothing without space, etc., etc.. He holds back an amused snort as he adds,

TIME + SPACE TRAVEL B/C OF DISTORTION RIFTS

Emmet’s smile turns brittle as his gaze goes distant. But he quickly shakes his head and swallows down his distress, offering Ingo a wobbly smile.

“…I am Emmet,” he declares, his voice fluctuating with too many emotions, “And I am going to ignore that or else I am going to cry in the bathtub.”

Churring regretfully, Ingo bumps his head against Emmet’s side. He doesn’t mean to keep upsetting his brother with the insanity of his situation. He writes another message,

SORRY

Emmet shakes his head and gives Ingo an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

“It’s not your fault,” he says softly. An odd expression then crosses his face and he gives Ingo an uncertain look, pressing him with, “…Right? You didn’t do any of this on purpose.”

Ingo furiously shakes his head, adding,

IDK WHAT HAPPENED EXACTLY

ONLY KNOW THAT I WAS IN BLIZZARD + MY HEAD HURT + STILL HAD MY NAME

“The doctors did say you have brain damage,” Emmet quietly mutters with a grim expression. “That might explain the amnesia… but what about your ‘magic accident’?”

Unbidden, Ingo feels his hackles rise at the memory. An involuntary growl escapes him as he scrawls out,

ACCIDENT B/C OF THIS STUPID THING

Underneath, Ingo starts to draw the Sinnoh-accursed object that set off this entire mess.

The brass orb seemed like such an innocuous gift a few months ago, not long after that whole business with the rift finally came to an end. Rei had informed him that it was an artifact rumored to restore lost things back to where they belonged.

Perhaps things like memories?

Frankly, Ingo wasn’t sure how a little tchotchke was supposed to accomplish that. Even if it couldn’t, he figured that it was still an interesting puzzle with many moving parts to fiddle with.

He really should have paid more attention to it. If he knew this was a potential result he probably would never have touched it. That or he’d have thrown it into a bottomless ravine or straight into the sea.

Emmet watches intently as a wobbly illustration of a segmented orb imprinted with unfamiliar symbols comes into being on the board. Then for good measure, Ingo adds an arrow pointing to it labeled:

MAGIC PUZZLE BALL

Picking up the board, Emmet studies the crude drawing, “Do you still have this thing?”

This earns him a blank stare before Ingo gestures at himself, miming empty pockets.

“You know what I meant!” Emmet snaps without heat. He playfully rubs Ingo’s head fur the wrong way, causing Ingo to meep in protest at him. Unrepentant, he grins at Ingo as he asks, “Do you have any idea where it is now?”

Taking a moment to lick his claws and groom his fur back into place, Ingo takes back the board to answer:

BACK IN FOREST

He pauses as he recalls something else and quickly adds:

SO IS OTHER STUFF

Emmet‘s smile dips in confusion, “What other stuff?”

CLOTHES + HUMAN THINGS

Emmet’s eyes widen as he blurts out, “Wait-! You were human when you first arrived??”

Ingo sighs but nods.

“Then when did the Sneasel thing happen??”

It takes longer for Ingo to write out his answer. Thinking about it is… difficult. But he manages.

IMMEDIATELY AFTER ARRIVAL

Pulling together the memories is hard after such a horrific experience, but Ingo knows enough to build a rough timeline of events.

He remembers that he had been watching over Lady Sneasler’s latest brood of kits, still in the process of exploring and learning about everything around them. Some of the more rambunctious ones had found their way into his bag and made room for themselves, spilling berries and crafting items everywhere. It wasn’t until he’d spotted a kit using the puzzle ball as a kick toy did he realize that the orb had been booted out too.

Upon retrieving it, he was amused to find that his work was now completely scrambled. Not that he was particularly bothered by it as it was little more than a fidget toy for him.

(A toy just for idle hands, what a novel concept in a place that only granted enough space for survival.)

However he was a little dismayed to discover that the kit must have tried to unhinge its jaw in an attempt to eat the orb as he found a shed baby tooth caught in a seam. He remembers picking at it with a blunt fingernail, trying to pry it out when he pressed… something.

The next thing he knew, he heard a mechanism click into place and a blast of white light washed out everything, his surroundings changing from a cave to a forest where his tracks went steeply downhill.

Emmet’s returning smile dims to a look of worry.

“Did it… hurt?” he asks carefully, stuffing down the sneaking suspicion that he already knows full well what the answer is and will not like it.

Even though he knew that it was coming, the very question still makes Ingo shrink in on himself with a shudder.

He still remembers his agonized screaming turning shrill and bestial as he was crushed ever smaller and smaller. Still remembers the way he watched his hands deform into something completely alien, his humanity robbed from him right before his eyes. Remembers choking on the blood flooding his mouth and nose.

Almighty Sinnoh, it hurt so much…

A whimper escapes Ingo and he realizes he’s shaking, claws clutching at his head, tears rolling down his cheek fur as his battered mind forces him to relive the nightmare of the transformation.

The blinding torment of his spine snapping and splintering…

His face turning against him as his skull shattered around him…

His pure helplessness as he faced his undoing…

Without warning, giant arms scoop him up and envelop him in a soft hug. Ingo instinctively buries his face in Emmet’s chest as he sobs, his brother’s voice felt more than heard.

“No, no, no, I am sorry, you do not have to answer,” he rumbles. Softly shushing Ingo, he gently rubs his small furred back. “I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m here.”

All Ingo can do is cling tighter to Emmet as his crying overwhelms him, nothing but shrill yowls tearing out of his throat. For now, this is only the shelter he can seek from the horrors engraved into his mind.

How long they stay like that, even they don’t know. By the time Ingo’s memories release their hold over him, he’s curled up into a shivering ball of fur in Emmet’s arms. His eyes and nose feel scratchy, his facial fur uncomfortably damp, and his breaths rough and phlegmy. He coughs to clear his throat, pressing against Emmet’s stomach with a sad chirp.

The arms holding him shift and he feels a large hand caressing his back, gently scratching behind his ears as Emmet’s voice rumbles against him.

“I am so sorry, Ingo…” he whispers soothingly. “I will not bring it up again. I promise.”

Still curled up in a ball, Ingo lets out a small sigh of relief. He raises his head and nuzzles Emmet’s palm in gratitude before ducking back to his balled up form.

Just thinking about those moments… he’s utterly drained. No part of him wants to touch those memories again, neither human nor Sneasel.

Almighty Sinnoh, Ingo is so tired…

[cheesysaggychick]

Tailoring Music with Threads of Literature: A Comparative Analysis of the Anthology, “Lockdown Litanies: Countless Untold Stories” and Taylor Swift’s Masterpieces  (A Song Association)

I have been staring at these blank pages for days now and I cannot seem to fill the blank spaces that need filling. I do not know if it is because I am still in the adjustment period coming from summer vacation to face-to-face classes or just the feelings I have felt after rereading this collection countless times. I believe it’s the latter. Honestly, if this were a physical, hand-written task, it would just be crumpled pieces of paper lying on the ground. As I was listening to music, trying to clear my mind, and rest my eyes, I was punched in the gut when I encountered the line “It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair” from the song Change by Taylor Swift. Like the threads that make up our clothes, coats, and masks, every prick of the needle of life is like death… by a thousand cuts, and yet we continue to live on every day as if we have no burns to hide, and bruises to cover. But what if the day comes when we just stop bothering about the blood and bruises? Stop hiding the cries and the curses. Become indifferent. Would that be a success or a failure in living life? I do not think it is the former nor it is the latter. Thus join me as I scour through the works of these two artists while I ransack my own mind.

First entry: “Dear Diary,” is a poem about regret and how the author is yet to overcome those regrets they wallowed themselves in. The persona discussed how the past two years have been a heck of a ride for them and that they have undergone several changes over the course of the years. Along the lines, “After a part of me died, over two years I froze inside, and locked myself unable to do things, I love the most.”, I cannot help but feel like in Taylor Swift’s this is me trying. Just the title says a thousand unsaid words of mine. When Taylor said at the beginning “I've been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting”, folklore’s ninth track could be the perfect parallel for this first entry. Both literary pieces have shown components of a letter written by someone that is only meant for themselves having no one to tell their feelings to. Both artists are on the verge of life, and they cannot seem to handle the pressure of things as a result of the inevitable passing of time. But at the very least, both are trying and are learning lessons as they move forward. The rest of the first entry ends with the persona showing a sense of acceptance. The author lets go and are ahead of a lifelong journey of healing as they move to discover their purpose in life and transform them into art, precisely like Miss Swift.

Second entry: The Tale of a Modern Sisyphus. Now, this hits close to home. As a bold young girl, there is always a moment when my views and ideals are questioned in a conversation hence there is a spur-of-moment decision about whether to speak up or not. This is no different, especially on social media. I believe this is because of the mindset of older people that when you are young, they assume you know nothing. Contrary to their beliefs, they might be bigger, but we're faster and never scared. This entry reminds me of two classic Taylor Swift hits namely Only the young, from Miss Americana, and The Man from Lover. Like the modern Sisyphus, these endless intimidations and expectations set upon us women, from the moment we were born, are something that only we can truly understand. Just as seen in the latest national elections, the invisible glass ceiling still exists and there will always be a barrier dividing men and women. However bloody a man’s hands are, a woman’s fashion sense will always matter more than that as said in the lyrics, “What I was wearing, if I was rude, could all be separated from my good ideas and power moves”. Now, what’s that like? Nevertheless, I happen to know an upstanding woman who is, as the poem describes “Not defined by her defeat, but of being gracious—, gracious to push the boulder up the mountain, and start once again like nothing happened.”. She would be the last man standing, whoever she may be. So, do not waste a moment and speak now.

Third entry: O’yayi is a prose poem that broke my heart a tad. When I looked for the translation of o’yayi, the prose made more sense since it means lullaby or an act of panghehele in Filpino. The narrator in the text took in and coddled a traumatized woman named Yayi, which was confusing, especially when he decided to marry her. What a godsend, some may say, but I do not. As the prose progressed, the persona professed his undying love and affection towards Yayi. It was evident in his flowery words how much he values her, it breaks his heart. Although they say true love hurts, I do not think this is that. He is imprisoned in his own mind and in the feelings he has for Yayi, and yet still, up to her death, his feelings were unrequited, at least it seems so. 

The entirety of the prose, unfortunately, reminds me of 1989’s all you had to do was stay especially in the lines “All you had to do was stay, had me in the palm of your hand, then why'd you have to go and lock me out when I let you in?”. In the end, Dante was left to fend up for himself while he cleans the mess he’s made, which was just himself especially after Yayi dies. He really has his way of picking in the litter. 

(I am a child of divorce) (Disclaimer: I am happy for Tom having his first child okay)

Fourth entry: Two Red Laces on the Wonderwall. This exact poem ignites something in me among the rest. Its beat and words have some sort of wildness in them I cannot help but associate it with cruel summer from Lover. There is an obvious sensual romantic and erotic message conveyed in both passages. The narrator expressed their intoxication towards their partner in their entirety, especially when comparing them with wine. I cannot help but associate those lines with these lines: “And it's new, the shape of your body, it's blue, the feeling I've got, And it's ooh, whoa, oh, it’s cruel summer”. I know, reading the lyrics here may seem corny, but the giddiness both artists felt was comparable as it was tingling their insides.

However, in the poem’s lines, “I fell in your words. You, vindictive. I did what you said and leaned forward, I opened my whole to bare my soul.”, from tears of joy, the narrator’s tears ricocheted and became tears of pain and treachery. Don’t blame me talked about playing, and enjoying life fearlessly, and then one day it backfires. In both their works, they have expressed their lifestyles in lines wherein it was evident they did enjoy their lives. From then on, things went downhill for both artists as they were what seemed to be betrayed by their own objects of affection. What seemed to be a Wonderwall, was tarnished and tainted by laces of unfortunate phrases. This time, Taylor did the comparing as she compares her love with drugs. Just like Taylor, the narrator cannot help but feel a guilty pleasure for their choices because although a part of them is fulfilled and joyous, their relentless actions have caused the other side of them to be destroyed and become reliant on the cause of destruction. Well, I guess we cannot blame them, ‘cause don’t we all get too attached to someone at times?

Fifth entry: Umbilical, is a piece that talks about the narrator’s desperation to save their mother. This entry shows the narrator’s emotions which were generally pleas of gratitude and anguish. Umbilical began with lines of gratitude wherein they expressed them in lines like “The pain she suffered just for me to see” depicting how their mother resorted to different sacrifices just to provide them the life they deserve. It is undeniable that this is a sentimental entry that anyone who appreciates and loves their hardworking mothers can relate to. However, this is not about the glorification of suffering, it is about acknowledging them and how we think of paying back our parents. Along the lines “Hush, sleep tight. Everything will be alright., Lilom, Lilom, I beg. Spare her for me.”, this reminds me of the song soon you’ll get better. Not just by the lyrics, but also by the beat, tempo, and emotions, both literary pieces have shown agony from the authors. In the song, the line “you'll get better soon, 'cause you have to” was refrained giving me the impression that although we can get indifferent in life, we will always have a soft spot for those we love. As Taylor said, desperate people find something to believe in, which is parallel to the narrator’s tone in the poem wherein they were begging someone to spare their suffering mother who was never named but implied as a divine being. The poem and the song both end with a sense of hope as both accept their fate but still continue to hold on.

(a moment of silence for blondie’s hotness)

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okay, so...

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uhuh

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Sixth entry: RE: Paper (I’m Red, IMRaD)*, now this is a tricky one. It might seem obvious to assume that I would be using red for this poem, but I won’t, although I have considered it. Among the rest, this entry has to be the most intimidating of all. The entire poem is a descriptive reason, even though it has been years since the K-12 curriculum has been implemented, its efficacy has never been really proven. This is not just because of the shock core impact it has given the already inefficient educational system, but also the toll it has given the unprepared. Although the teachers are equipped with already excellent skills, in terms of the necessary ones needed for this system, they are not. As the poem states “Help teachers help students. After all, we cannot give what we don’t have.”, we may have hundreds and thousands of teachers, but if there is a scarcity of resources to help them perform to their extreme, we will achieve no more than a mediocre result. Just like what Taylor said in better than revenge, “And do you still feel like you know what you're doing, 'Cause I don't think you do.” With the wheelchair and neckbrace stunts, I do not think the system, and the authorities who run it will ever know what they are doing. And slowly, our economy, the teachers, and the students will suffer for it.

Seventh entry: 3 A.M. Awakening. As we reach the end, from here we take a sharp turn. As much as I hate to admit it, I think I have seen this before, and I did not like the ending. 3 A.M Awakening dwells on the narrator’s emotional state while experiencing what seems to be an emotional breakdown. In these first lines “Breathe as if it’s easy to do today, but I think much in a different way.”, this resonates with speak now’s innocent specifically in the line “Did some things you can't speak of, but at night you'll live it all again” as both have indicated struggles with their decisions and eventually overthinking about them in nights of day. I correlate one with another as both have shown symptoms of instability and indigency in emotional leverage.

Meanwhile, in the lines “Heaven spoke lies to me telling I’m sick, with people’s eyes daggering every inch.”, the narrator fights their loneliness as they try to break out of their intrusive thoughts. Among the rest, in my opinion, this has the most melodramatic and melancholic tone. The line resonates well with the lyric “I didn't have it in myself to go with grace” from the song my tears ricochet. Nonetheless, both were trying their hardest to live and not be swallowed by the depths of darkness as they used heaven, hell, and grace as metaphors for their experiences. For the narrator, “It's okay, life is a tough crowd…every one of us has messed up too”.

Eight entry: My Frail Lady is the one that truly broke my heart. As much as it is miserable, this reminded me of a lot of Taylor Swift songs however I will only cite a couple. The lines “Such frail, frail lady, bookkeeps her internal screams. soon she will be found—  dancing on her own”, is in parallel with the song right where you left me from evermore as both the narrator and Taylor were seemed to be stunned by the situations they were placed in by the one they love. This is specifically demonstrated in the lyrics “Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it”.

(literally my soul leaving my body goodbye)

The entirety of the poem is a tragedy, a sad beautiful tragic love affair. This song resonates the most with the persona as they were both in love, and pained by their personal manifestation of their destiny. In parallel, both artists ended things, for the persona, it was their life, for Taylor, it was her love. They are still considered beautiful not because of the traces of cadavers dented in the car, or the pain and suffering turned into a song, but because despite everything, they were freed. The memories that were left behind will never be taken by anyone even if the ones who made them are already gone. That is the beauty of preservation, it will always stay there, right where you left them. Although I must say, Taylor was a frail lady herself, now she’s out of the woods, and I hope the same for the narrator.

Ninth entry: the last one is Major Arcana. I can say this last piece does live up to its title, it is major. To begin, the lines “I…see a tragic past. A heavy, draining aura has enveloped—…trace lines of broken heart and hopes on your hand, scathing—.”, have an enchanting feel to them. It has an upbeat tone to it that makes it willow in my ears like a cool summer breeze. I correlate this part of the poem with the lyrics of evermore’s first track “I'm begging for you to take my hand. Wreck my plans. That's my man.” not just because both artists used the word hand as an element of showing affection, but because there is a sense of desperation in both texts.

In the same album, when Taylor said “I know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it“, this can be tied to the next line of the poem which was “find your future uncertain. Six years of adjustments await” which goes to show how we can tolerate even the ugliness of things for people who we are not even secured in (editor’s note: you mean like princess diana?). This means, that we do sometimes settle for less unconsciously. As the poem ends, the persona accepts their fate after a straight flush in the cards deciding their endgame as it is in the song for she decides to just “sit and watch” as their future unfolds.

So, after everything, it is time to answer the first and last question, is indifference a success or failure in living life? After all the poems, albums, and songs I have dove into, I have come to the conclusion that it is neither a success nor it is a failure. I have understood that that is just the way life runs. Indifference is an emotion that is caused by other repressed emotions. The day will always come wherein we would lose every bit of care we have, but the fact still remains that we are in pain. It will never dry the blood, nor tend the bruise, it will just silence the curses and the cries, ignore all the pleas and the sighs. In short, indifference gives no difference. Defeating our demons is something that only time can do for us, with much effort and grace. Thus it is the one thing that we should feel and acknowledge. We shall not ignore those because each demon, pain, and suffering is a lesson. Nevertheless, it takes time and effort to heal enough to be able to begin again. 

Alas! I guess I have finally filled the blank pages as I reached the end of this analysis. Although I must say I have gone through legitimate stages of existential crisis having finished this anthology which made me question my reason for living. Nonetheless, some pieces were affirming, they were affirming in a way I felt seen, and my feelings were validated and violated simultaneously but no worries for I have no bad blood towards either of the artists. I am ending this analysis with a line from the song Change, the song I started this analysis with,

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down It's a revolution, the time will come For us to finally win.

(ps. stream midnights!) (pss. eras tour in my dreams aaaa) (psss. read the anthology here)

[neuromantis]

doing much better than i expected, but i still might go on a digital detox for a while.

other than that had to explain what marfan syndrome is to another doctor. she also asked me would i be okay undertaking the procedure with the medication i take for my sza. and i didn't know. i thought it is the doctors job to decide whether or not i am okay to cut up. like, i am pretty sure it's your job. i couldn't say anything conclusive and she waved me off to surgery. like. i know what my pills do. i know most common adverse effects and i know signs of withdrawal. things i can actually use in my daily life. not really whether it's okay to operate on a person who's zoinked out on psych meds 24/7.

the operation itself is nothing really worthwhile describing. i just had to take very very deep even breaths because i felt like slipping into a panic attack because i have a deep phobia of anything coming even close to my eye, not to mention cutting my eye and burning the inside of it. like, the clamp they used to hold my eyelids open was the most uncomfortable thing, i just couldn't blink and felt pressure for like 10 minutes until everything was done. the suction thing that opens your eye feels like someone pinching you on your cornea, which was extrmely weird but lasted like, a couple of seconds. the laser itself is completely painless and the only thing i felt was the clamp and the smell of hair burning. like that terrible smell when you burn your arm on an open flame and you smell searing flesh and burning hair. but also like, if you burn your arm or something, it is usually a minor thing. here it was so potent i have no idea how i didn't retch. but i like weird smells and it was certainly an unusual one. someone told me before it smells like bacon. but no, it smells like a whole piece of raw pig on fire - skin, hair and all.

i think i was over and done with the procedure itself in like 15 minutes. so i didn't have time for a panic attack. also i spent days before having a complete mental breakdown so i had nothing in me to continue panicking and fretting. like i am still pretty numb all things considered. i think my emotions will recover for longer than my eyes. because i realized something absolutely terrible (and really obvious) about myself and i can't just keep on living with myself like that.

i can see very clearly far away and i lament that it's overcast because i don't doubt i would have been able to see the stars for the first time in forever. for the first time in like 20 years i think. but closer to my face my vision is still murky and doubling. i am well enough to type this whole book out though (and forgive me if there're typos) on my computer (can't see shit on my phone) so it went better than expected, so much better really. they told me i would get my entire new vision back tomorrow and i have a followup appointment so we'll see.

it fucking blows my mind how well i see without my glasses and i would have cried, but i think i cried a lot today as it is and will be unable to muster up the emotion either way.

that's it for now.

[archibaldtuttle]

Anyway hi I'm pretty sure I have OCD

[mermaid-trash]

Russian Into Love - Pt 1

Pairing: Alexei x fem!reader

A/n: (pls ignore the pun title, it was meant to be just a working title but I can’t think of anything better 😭) soooo this is the first part to a slow burn fake dating/marriage thing that I’ve had in my head since watching s3 of Stranger Things, I’m gonna be playing fast and loose with canon and idek if the s4 plot will be in this buuut I’m having fun writing it :)) pls feel free to comment and tell me what you think bc I personally love this and I want you all to love it too ❤️

(All Russian translations were taken directly from google translate so pls don’t attack me, attack mr google instead)

Wordcount: 2.9k

You were certain that you were going to lose your mind. It had been days since you had really looked at the sky, watched the clouds roll by like passing trains, and you were convinced that another day spent staring at the same faded floral wallpaper would be the death of you.

“Y’know, Murray, I’ve been thinking…” You began tentatively, not raising your eyes from the gossip magazine you had been pretending to read for quite some time.

“Sounds dangerous. Try not to do it again.” Murray dismissed without even looking up from the book he was wasting away his own time with. Ignoring his quip, you continued as though uninterrupted.

“I think we should go to California with Joyce and the kids.”

The idea had been playing on your mind for days, ever since you had learned that Hopper was gone. And after 4 days hiding in a motel room with Murray and the quiet Russian scientist, you were desperate for any opportunity to get out and as far away from these four walls as possible. Murray’s head snapped up from the book he was reading in the old armchair in the corner of the room, and Alexei’s eyes left the TV playing Loony Tunes to watch the conversation in interest.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Murray asked, his voice tinged with the familiar condescension that you had come to expect from him.

“Well, first off, if we have to stay in this motel much longer I think I might snap and start killing people. Secondly,” your tone softened slightly, “I’m worried about Joyce, and I think we should try to be close by.”

As Murray pondered your words, Alexei watched you both patiently while waiting for a translation. Murray knew as well as you did that with everything that had happened in the Starcourt mall and the subterranean Russian lab, Joyce had a lot to deal with right now, and while you both knew that she was capable of looking after herself, you just couldn’t stand the idea of her moving away on her own.

“As much as I may agree with you, we can’t go anywhere until Alexei’s green card situation is resolved.” Murray argued eventually.

“в чем дело?” [What’s going on?] Alexei asked, but before Murray could respond to him, you continued.

“Yeah, well, there is an easy way to deal with that. If Alexei wants to.” You said, and Murray’s head snapped up to look at you in obvious surprise.

It wasn’t the first time the idea had been brought up; Murray had mentioned marriage as a solution to Alexei’s citizenship situation on the very first day of your captivity, but it had been dismissed quickly because finding someone to marry Alexei would prove difficult, perhaps even impossible. So, Murray had moved his attention onto finding other ways to solve the problem, whereas you had been unable to stop thinking about it; it was such a simple solution, you were willing and as long as Alexei was too, you could soon see the other side of the motel room door.

“There is. Are you volunteering?” Murray asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“If it gets us out of this room, sure.” You replied, crossing your arms across your chest determinedly and trying to ignore the nervous pounding in your chest.

Murray’s gaze fixed on your face only intensified, his eyes narrowing as he regarded you closely from behind tinted glasses.

“I don’t think you’re taking this as seriously as you should be. Marriage is a big deal for most people, you know.” He explained with a frustratingly soft look on his features.

Wordlessly, you stood from your spot on the garish floral bedding and crossed the room to peer through a crack in the blinds. Both men watched you as you made a show of peering from left to right across the mostly empty car park.

“Nope, just as I thought, there’s no queue of men waiting for my hand in marriage.” You sighed dramatically and flopped back down on the bed, while Murray scoffed at your dramatics.

“Murray, что она сказала?” [Murray, what did she say?] Alexei asked again, and this time Murray answered.

“она предложила выйти за тебя замуж из-за грин-карты. и она хочет переехать в Калифорнию.” [She offered to marry you for your green card. And she wants to move to California.] He explained, and Alexei’s head spun quickly to stare at you, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“если мы поженимся, я стану гражданином США?” [If we marry, I’ll be an American citizen?] Alexei spoke, his eyes never leaving you.

You toyed anxiously with a loose thread on the bedding while Murray explained your idea to him. Alexei’s approval of this plan was the only thing coming between you and your escape from this room, so while being rejected by him wouldn’t be the biggest hit your ego had ever taken, it would mean staying here for longer. With the man that had rejected you.

“да. но вы также будете женаты на ней.” [Yes. But you’ll also be married to her.] Though you didn’t understand Murray’s words, you couldn’t miss the disdainful tone at the end and so you shot him a venomous look. Alexei looked thoughtful for a moment, still staring at you.

“это было бы не так уж плохо.” [That wouldn’t be so bad.] He said finally, and Murray let out a hearty laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, jaw clenched at the sigh of Murray’s glee.

“He thinks it’s a good idea.” He stated, causing your heart to leap. It had been surprisingly easy for Murray to convince him, you thought absently. “I’m not taking you to buy a wedding dress, though.”

—————————————————

So just a few days later, after what you were sure must be the fastest, most pragmatic wedding ceremony ever held in Hawkins, you, Murray, and your new husband piled into Murray’s van with what few belongings you still had, and set off for California.

You were admittedly beginning to grow nervous about your plan; once you arrived in California, you and Alexei were moving into a small home under the half-correct guise of being a newly-wed couple moving into their first home together, while Murray had found a new base for his own work somewhere nearby. The nervous pit that bubbled in your chest had nothing to do with the prospect of living with Alexei, you had been living with him in that horrid motel room for over a week at this point and despite the close quarters, he had been a wonderful roommate. Instead, your nerves were flaring up the idea of being caught in the ruse you had agreed to live in for the forseeable future. Or at least, until Alexei met someone he wanted to really marry.

But as you watched the scientist eagerly watching the scenery go with his forehead practically pressed against the windows of the van, you felt your worries fade a little. His smile was infectious, and just existing around him was easy, as natural as breathing. Not to mention the fact that his English was improving steadily; faster than your Russian, luckily.

Just then, Alexei turned towards you and caught you staring. His face split into an ecstatic grin that you couldn’t prevent your own from mirroring.

“это так…тепло.” [It’s so…warm.] He said with a small chuckle, gesturing out of the window.

Even though you didn’t understand his words, his joy was simple and genuine, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning along with him. You didn’t even realise you had been staring at him until Murray coughed pointedly, drawing both of your attentions to him.

“Now, I know that this is all very exciting, but you two need to remember that to your neighbours, and friends, and coworkers, and everyone except for me and Joyce, you two are married.” Murray reminded for the hundredth time, enunciating his words with annoying precision as though you were rowdy children. He glanced past you at Alexei, and translated. “Вы должны вести себя так, как будто вы на самом деле женаты. Понять?” [You have to act like you’re actually married. Understand?]

With a glance in your direction, Alexei nodded. Murray turned his gaze on you, one eyebrow raised in that universally understood question: well? You huffed, avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah, sure. Are you gonna give me strict instructions on how to do that? A list of my wifely duties or something?” You questioned snarkily, and Murray tutted in response.

“No, actually, I thought maybe California might melt that icy heart of yours and you can figure out how to be affectionate on your own.” Ignoring your indignant noise, he continued. “Look, I’m not asking you to consummate this faux marriage, just try not to act like our comrade here repulses you too much.” He explained firmly.

“He doesn’t repulse me.” You replied entirely too quickly. Embarrassed heat flared in your cheeks and you ducked your head in the hopes that Murray would not notice; the chuckle he let out told you that he did notice.

When the van finally pulled into the driveway of your new home, set against the late afternoon sky, you hopped out of the back of the van excitedly. It was a relatively small two-story house, with houses on either side that looked like the epitome of suburbia; beige buildings with pristine gardens, even complete with a white picket fence. The mundanity made you want to retch, but instead you focused on your own home and allowed yourself to pretend for a moment that it was real, that it could ever be real for you.

Suddenly, a large hand was in yours, and it raised your hand to Alexei’s lips for him to press a kiss to the back. You stared at him in utter confusion for a second, before he nodded surreptitiously behind him, in the direction of a neighbours house.

In a window at the front of that house, you could see a tanned, blonde woman peering through her curtains, watching your arrival as subtly as she could. Sending her a friendly wave and a smile that you hoped looked genuine, you scoffed lightly.

“Nosy neighbours. Fantastic.” You murmured, mostly to yourself. Alexei watched you with a faint smile, before pulling you eagerly towards your new home.

Together, though no longer holding hands, you explored the house; Alexei was simply delighted by the small pool in the backyard, and you were pleased to find the kitchen already equipped with a fridge and oven. Then you ventured up the stairs and found four doors, behind which were a linen closet, a hideously beige tiled bathroom, and thankfully, two bedrooms, both already furnished with basic double beds.

You glanced at Alexei and he met your gaze with a half smirk, both of you seemingly grateful to not have to share a bed in order to protect your newly-wed image. He entered one of the rooms wordlessly and you entered the other, one with a window overlooking the back yard, and dropped your backpack on the floor at the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that slipped past your lips; all things considered, the house was nice. Murray had really showed you some mercy with the two bedrooms, too. You had almost been expecting him to make this as uncomfortable as possible, just to spite you for being a constant thorn in his side.

“Alright, lovebirds, I’m leaving!” Murray called up the stairs, and you stepped out onto the landing to see him standing at the bottom of the staircase.

“Wait, we don’t have any groceries and I’m starving, you’re leaving me here without food on my wedding night?” You asked in faux incredulity, to which Murray rolled his eyes.

“There’s a flyer for a pizza place by the front door, will that be adequate for the blushing bride?” He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You waved off his snide comment with a dismissive scoff. “You’re coming back tomorrow though, right?”

“Yes, I’m coming back tomorrow to take you and loverboy to buy a car. Hopefully, that’ll stop you from bugging me to take you places.” Murray replied with another roll of his eyes.

Before you could respond with a quip of your own, Alexei stepped out of his bedroom and onto the landing beside you. He and Murray exchanged words in quick fire Russian, before Alexei nodded, and brushed past you with a gentle smile into the bathroom.

“I just told your dearly beloved to be ready to go at 10am tomorrow. You’d better not make me wait.” Murray explained, waving a finger at you as though you were a naughty child.

“Would I do that?” You asked as innocently as you could, fighting back a smile as Murray began to walk away.

“You would and you have, repeatedly. Don’t make me leave you behind.” His final warning, only intended half jokingly, rang out as the sound of the front door closing signalled Murray’s departure.

Breathing out a slight chuckle, you tried to ignore the ache in your chest that already missed Murray and his quick wit; although you had always argued with him and seemingly done everything within your power to irritate him, you and he both knew that it was all in good fun. After years spent alone, you both had found verbal sparring partners within each other, and the few short years you had lived with him had been the happiest that you could remember.

You remained in place on the landing, absorbed in your thoughts, until the sound of running water reminded you of Alexei’s presence in the bathroom. The realisation that he was there, just on the other side of the dark wooden door beside you, and presumably about to shower, sent a cold jolt though your veins and before you could think about it you were darting away from the bathroom door and bolting down the stairs as quickly as you could.

Since your living room was totally devoid of furniture, you elected to sit outside in the back yard beneath the late afternoon sun as it slowly dipped towards the horizon. Lying on your back on the warm ground, you kicked off your shoes and allowed your feet to dangle in the pool, relishing in the coolness of the water around your ankles as you gently kicked your feet. With your eyes closed, you allowed yourself a single moment of peace and serenity before what you were certain would be a busy week, with your new house to be fully stocked and decorated.

The only thing that signalled Alexei’s arrival by your side was the shadow that he cast over your face, the sudden darkness prompting your eyes to open. He stood, towering above you, with damp curls and that same cheery smile across his face.

For an evil genius Russian scientist, he sure does look friendly, you found yourself thinking.

“Hi,” You said, peering up at him as a smile began to unfurl across your own face.

“Hello.” He said, his accent distorting the word slightly.

Carefully, he lowered himself to sit on the ground beside you, his own feet dangling in the pool beside yours. For a moment he was silent, and you attempted to settle back into the peaceful moment you had found just before, until you were again disrupted by a gentle prod to your cheek.

You opened your eyes to see Alexei, now propped up on an elbow so that he was almost lying beside you, holding a flyer in front of your face. After some squinting, you recognised it as the pizza place flyer Murray had mentioned, for a place called Surfer Boy Pizza.

“You’re hungry?” You asked, tilting your head up towards him. He nodded.

“Da.”

“Alright,” you replied, happy with the simple exchange, and unfolded the flyer to read the menu, “let’s order something then.”

As you were reading through the topping options, Alexei leaned further down over you to point a finger at one of the pictures on the flyer, a picture of a fresh, greasy, pepperoni pizza.

“Say?” He said, looking down at you intently.

As you looked back up at Alexei, his face was cast in shadow from the late afternoon sun behind him, making his features difficult to make out clearly, but you were fairly certain that he was staring intently at your lips. You froze, fixed in place by his watchful gaze. The whole world seemed to stand still for a long moment before you regained the ability to speak.

“P-pizza?” The word came out as a question, and heat flared in your cheeks as he grinned.

“Pizza.” He repeated.

Oh. The pronunciation.

“Y-yeah, pizza.” You repeated, breathing a slight sigh of relief when he finally turned his attention away from you again. “Um. Okay.”

You rose shakily to your feet, the flyer trembling in your grip.

“I-I’m gonna, uh, just, um, go? Inside? And…order pizza? Yeah, um…okay.” And with that, you darted back into the house without a glance back at the man sitting, looking very confused, at the edge of the pool.

The cool indoor air did nothing to soothe the burning in your cheeks after your unbelievably awkward exit, though it was a relief to no longer have Alexei staring at you. The memory of his attention focused so intently on you made you want to curl up in a ball; it had been as though he was the first person to ever truly look at you, and it had made you feel vulnerable in a way you hadn’t in a long time, not even with Murray.

Before you could allow your thoughts to delve too far into what that could mean, you snatched the phone from the receiver and punched in the number with more force than strictly necessary.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Do I wanna know | Chapter six

summary: you have a deathwish and bucky says some hurtful things honestly.

warnings: blood, violence, torture, kidnapping... you get the gist.

author's note: WE ARE BACK BABY!!!!

listen to: mi nuevo vicio - morat (is in spanish but search for the lyrics is so good) (playlist HERE)

word count: 2.5k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!!

“I waited for you when everyone turned to ash, I had the hope that my beautiful kukolka would return and you did,” the faint whisper woke you up from your slumber, along with the sharp pain coming from your wrist and your scapula. You whimpered as you tried to move but your feet were above the ground and the realization felt like cold water. Your eyes open to see you hanging in the middle of a dark large basement and front of you was your worst nightmare. “And you did,” Petrovich replied with adoration. 

His eyes lit up as he realized that you were awake and he got closer to you, grabbing you by the chin before you were pulled away from him. Your whole body dangled from the chain as you tried to back off, your whole body moved back and forth, the pain becoming worse by the second, and in a moment you saw a flash of him, a flash of his blue eyes.

He was there. 

James was watching you gravely, he was hanging too from his arms and being held just like you were. Your gazes linked for a second and you hoped that maybe he couldn’t quite read the fear in your eyes, but by the feeling of the tears sliding down your cheeks, you realized that you weren’t even hiding your distress. You wondered what he thought but there was something you couldn’t quite figure out. 

“I’ve been watching you,” Petrovich stated and your train of thoughts was out of the window, you turn to him. You believed that you’d forgotten how he looked now and if you were counting the years that you’d been bleeped, you realized that you hadn’t seen him for over six years and you could tell that time wasn’t his friend. He was slimmer and weaker than before, older, the wrinkles on his forehead were deeper and the bags under his eyes were protuberant. “I’ve been watching you with that Suka who took you away,” he spat out and you growled at the mention of Yelena, it slipped your lips and you felt as if you could kill him right there.  

He stared at you and chuckled as he put his glasses onto the place. “And in the last few days it became so obvious,” he muttered.“You miss me and us. I’ve seen your inner turmoil as you’ve been unable to complete a simple mission,” he stated as he pointed at Bucky and you glanced back at him, still his expression was unreadable.“But with my control, you can do anything”

“I don’t want to kill anymore,” you spat curtly to him, your eyes narrowed and you could feel that awful burning feeling of hatred grumbling on your chest. 

“Oh, but you do,” Petrovich cooed as he shook his head as if rejecting the possibility of such an idea. “You accepted someone else’s mission,” He stated and you felt like throwing up because James couldn’t know the why of your mission.“Her mission” 

“Stop!” you screamed as your eyes fell on James who had finally shown emotion, he watched you with a puzzled look and you knew he was trying to recall every she, he had hurt, he was already looking for something that you didn’t want him to know but before you could think anything else the thoughts were slapped from you. 

“DON’T FORGET WHO YOU BELONG TO!” Petrovich screams ricocheted through the great room and in your mind. Your cheek burned from the impact and you could’ve sworn it pierced your cheekbone, you close your eyes as you waited for more but James’ voice overwhelmed you. 

“DO NOT TOUCH HER!” Bucky growled from his place as he forced the chain to break. He was hanging and he was sure that if he pull any longer his arm would snap but the rage he was feeling was something he didn’t know he still had. 

He was angry. He was furious because he had been tangled in something that seemed too far away from what he was now. He was back in square one as he recognize the accent of the man in front of you as he recalled the different elements from your file. You were one of the test subjects for mental control, you were a prisoner just like he was. He knew how it felt when you wanted to escape and yet you couldn’t when you didn’t have any free will.

Resentment and anger pricked at the back of his neck as he heard the man’s words, he hated it. He hated how he called you his and he hated as he’s able to make out, even in the pale light and the dusty basement, the prints of tears on your cheeks and then your eyes, god, you were beyond petrified. 

The realization held him hostage.

And so he couldn’t avoid the words as they escaped his mouth, nor did he want to. If the chain wasn’t so tight and if his good arm wasn’t twisted in that way, he was sure he would’ve already broken the man in front of you in two. But he couldn’t get down, he couldn’t escape just yet and he had to hang in there, watching the man chuckle at his reaction while Bucky had already killed him in his mind in more than a thousand ways. 

“Don’t forget who you are kukolka, you have blood on your hands,” he said after chuckling and you just whimpered at his words before he turned to James with a wide-evil smile. “I should be paid good money for the winter soldier,” he said with low laughter, yet his eyes were wicked as Bucky glared back at him. Without a second thought, he gave Bucky a blow to his ribs, hard enough for you to wince and for him to lose all his air. 

“Don't,” you screamed back unsure of why you were so worried about him. Petrovich barely gives you any attention. He simply gazes back at you with a frown. “Tomorrow someone will make sure your neurotransmitter is still working,” he said. “After that, we are leaving,”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat with a glare. “I’d rather die than go back,”

It was true. You were sure about your next steps, you knew your plan and how to cut your throat in just the right way for you to go quickly. Now your hands were tight but you knew how to position them, you had learned because you wanted that control. 

You craved it. 

“Oh Kulkolka, you only can die when I say so” Pretovich stated somberly before two men entered the room and he pointed at both of you. “Take them,”

Bucky and you fell on the floor without being able to move a muscle, it seemed like your whole body was filled with ecstatic and tingles from how you’d been hanged for, what you believed must’ve been hours. It wasn’t until a couple of hours later that you could start to feel your muscles and the desperation sinking in.

You could blame it on the lack of sleep and the anxiety rushing into your veins after coming back from the bleep, the stress of the possibility of falling into the hands of Petrovich once again, or even your willingness to help Yelena with her revenge plan. It could all contribute to how you’d ended in Petrovich's hands again. Your body, right down to the marrow-deep in your bones, aches with the exhaustion of the past few days and even the few months you’d had. So, it wouldn’t be exactly far from accurate that you blamed the feeling, blame the desperation, to actually blame everything on James Buchanan Barnes. 

The anger slithering as you managed to turn around to see that he, with his fucking larger dose of superhero serum, was already moving and standing up, already planning an escape plan for him. You convinced yourself, talking to yourself, that you hate him, you truly do. Before, he was just a target and nothing more, a specially challenging target but nothing more. No feelings, no strings, no nothing that held you with him. And now, you just want to bang your head against a wall until it cracks and bleeds, at least then -if you were lucky- you might be able to forget him.

To forget his eyes, to forget the voice, to forget his scent.

And then he fucking turns around and sees you. 

And he couldn’t be feeling anything more different than what you were feeling at the moment. 

He was determined to get you both out of there. He recalled the fear in your eyes, god, he knew it by heart. He had been where you were so many times before and although he was blacked out most of the time because of the mind control, in the few moments he managed to snap out of it, he only felt horror.

He didn’t want to feel that again or for you to feel what he felt. 

Therefore, he got to work. Bucky quickly found himself leaning over the wall, trying to reach the small window at the top of the cell. He was desperate and he held his breath, asking for his body to work as it normally did, he managed to get to the bars. But as his skin touched them, electricity quickly ran through his body and a loud scream escaped his lips as he fell back first into the floor. 

He groaned as he felt the left-out electricity running through his body, causing him to move his body because of the small spasms that the electricity caused him. The groans ringed in your ears (or that could just be your ears rigging from the torture) and you don’t know if you should smirk because he had it coming or if you should worry about him because you didn’t really know he had such a soft spot for electricity. 

He groaned and attempted to push himself to stand up, just as you started being able to move your limbs. 

“This is all your fault,” you finally muttered as you managed to pull yourself together as you lay against the wall that was closer to you, you took a deep breath as you felt the soreness on your body. 

Bucky turns around with a frown. “What?” he replies, his body posture changing slightly, as he turns towards you while he stayed sitting down on the floor. 

“If I wasn’t too distracted with you, I wouldn’t have been caught,” you hissed. 

The answer took Bucky by surprise, causing his eyes to widen as he realized that you weren’t fucking around and that you weren’t annoyed at him like in the cafeteria or angry because you couldn’t kill him like in the metro or in the club. This was disdain, this was resentment, this had been festering, this had grown and now that he realized that you rather die than be at Petrovich’s mercy, he realized that you’d pick him as a chew toy. 

And that’s when Bucky started to get mad. 

Because he was in this cage, partly, because of you. 

“My fault?” he laughed loudly and you raised your eyebrows, it was a raw laugh and one that you knew had anger mixed in. 

Bucky had spent so much of his life angry. In so many situations, he was angry at his father, he was angry that he had to take care of his family, he was angry that he had survived his fall, he was angry that he hadn’t died right there and then, he was angry that Hydra had found him, he was angry that he had been mind-controlled into doing heinous things to people, he was angry that he hadn’t been killed in one of the missions, he was angry that he hadn’t even been able to decide himself if he wanted to die, he was angry about his life and how alone he was. 

And it felt like the anger came back to him like a tsunami. 

 “It’s not my fault you can’t complete a fucking mission,” he sneered as he pressed his lips together in a thin line while he looked away. 

Which only served to annoy you, even more, to cause you to be even angrier because you felt like he wasn’t even attempting to take responsibility too. 

“Oh don’t try to compare me with you, go ahead. Try to kill a supersoldier and let me know how it goes,” you snapped back at him as the fury settled into your bones and you stood up while you glared at him. 

He felt you getting up so he did as well and the screaming began. 

“I had left all this behind!” He barked at you, his voice ricocheted over the walls. “And then YOU had to show up!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” he replied while you shook your head in disbelief. “I didn’t ask for this I never did,”

“Do you think I did?” you sneered. 

“You are the one that was free and still wanted to get blood on her hands,” he screamed back as his eyes locked onto yours.“I was in peace,” he barked. 

You let the echo of his screams bounce against the cold walls of the cell that you’d been locked in and you stared at him. You’d let his words sink into you, into your skin and it only cause you to feel like you hated him even more. You’d already branded yourself as a killer and you hated to even think about the blood that you’d spilled as you were mind controlled but for him to say that you’d chosen it, even if it was true, it was as if someone had stabbed you on the chest. 

“In peace?” you asked him silently. 

Bucky frowned, how were you questioning him?

“Yes, I was doing missions and I was helping people who needed me,” he replied. “I was doing the work!” he snapped before he passed a hand through his hair. 

Your heavy breathing was the only thing that you were able to hear for a second as you blinked and even chuckled to yourself, the irony. 

“Peace,” you chuckled. “You peaceful assassin,” you said as you finally got closer to him, enough for your eyes to fall on his neck for a second and for goosebumps to appear over Bucky’s skin but he refused to look at you at the moment. “You know how much damage you did, god you don’t even remember the people -” 

“I remember all of them,” he cut you off as his head snapped and he looked down at you. 

“You still don't know, do you?” you asked him with a mischievous smile and wide eyes but you cut yourself short because you knew it wasn’t fair to bring it up. It wasn’t fair to him, or to Yelena to bring it up. You simply stared at him while he looked at you. 

He felt broken over your words, he felt broken and hollowed at he hated it. 

He hated you. 

“This was a mistake,” he muttered before walking away from you and towards one corner of the cell. 

He left you right there and you could only blink as you heard him. The voice, the venom on his voice, you felt it burning you, and although you hated it to admit it. 

It hurt. 

***

author's note: SO IT HAS BEEN A WHILE I KNOW THAT I SUCK BUT I HAD WRITERS BLOCK WITH THIS ONE AND I WAS GRADUATING AND CRUEL INTENTIONS AND 18 took a lot of my time but I swear I'm back on track because I really see potential to this story and like chapters that are coming are coming HOT. like ugh I restructured the whole thing and I'm sure you'll love it. as always thanks for reading and lmk your thoughts!!!

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taglist: @capswife @nohuyck @fluffydanger @queenofshinigamis @missgurlbaddie

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[rezzyromance]

How would the four lords react if their s/o suddenly says, “I think I’m in love with you,” while watching them do something mundane, eg. Alcina putting on her lipstick, Heisenberg tinkering with something, etc.

This makes me so happy :,)

Alcina

You lay on the large bed you and Alcina shared. It was made to fit her, so to you it was like an ocean of soft mattress and silk sheets. You were so comfortable, although the presence of your lover would make the situation all the more comforting. Instead of laying with you, she was hurrying to get ready for a meeting Mother Miranda had called together. She always made sure to look her best before leaving the house. You lay on your side and prop your head up with your hand, all your weight put onto your elbow. You watched as she sat down in front of her mirror to do some touch ups on her makeup.

"I wish you didn't have to go. I wish you could just lay here with me." you complain. "I know my dear. I'd love nothing more than be able to spend my time with you, lazing away, but I'm afraid this meeting is very important." her tone was soft and sweet. It was a tone she only spoke to you in. You sigh and continue to stare at her, admiring the way she gently bounces her hair in her hands to make sure it sits perfectly. She notices you staring through the mirror and can't help but smile as she reaches for her favorite lipstick.

"I'm surprised you haven't burned a hole in me with that stare of yours." she says before parting her lips to apply her lipstick.

"I think I'm in love with you.", you lovingly say. It wasn't odd or out of the ordinary. You told her that you loved her often, but there was something special about the way you said it this time that made her freeze. Her eyes grew wide for just a second as a blush began to rise from her pale cheeks. She turns to face you, intensely staring into your eyes as the corners of her lips perk upwards into a pleasant smile. "Oh my sweet (Y/N).", she stands up and walks over to you before placing a kiss on your lips, leaving a red stain from her lipstick.

Donna

You yawn as you curl up comfortably in a chair with a hot cup of tea in your hands. It's not a yawn of boredom or exhaustion, but a yawn of comfort. The type of yawn your body produces because it's so at peace that life itself begins to lull you to sleep. You were watching as Donna sewed a brand new dress for one of her dolls. She had taken off her veil to do this, not wanting any lack of vision to ruin her progress. The dress was beautiful. She had been working on it for days. It was a small, pink and flower patterned dress with white lace around the edges that Donna stared at with intensity as she attached it with her needle and thread.

No words were spoken for the entirety of her process. You sat in silence and watch through out all of it. The way her eyes never unfocused from the task made your heart flutter. The way her dainty hands held the fabric so gently caused a light smile to rest on your face. She was just so beautiful.

After a while, you decide to break the silence. "I think I'm in love with you." She gasps and nearly pricks her finger with the needle. Her whole body language changed as she nervously fiddled with a stray strand of hair with her fingers. Her shyness only made you smile harder. "I think I love you too.", she whispers before smiling and continuing with her work, attempting to hide how flustered she is.

Moreau

The light from the tv was the only thing illuminating the room. Moreau had put on one of his favorite romance movies for you both to watch. You told him you'd never seen it before and that absolutely blew his mind. How could you NOT see this masterpiece of a movie? There was no negotiating with the man. You HAD to watch it and so now here you are, curled up on the couch with him in the dark.

You had noticed out of the corner of your eye throughout the whole movie that Sal kept turning his head towards you, observing your reactions to his favorite parts of the movie. He wanted nothing more than for you to enjoy the movie just as much as he does, so you made sure to pay close attention. It was a very cheesey movie about an underdog winning the girl of his dreams who's way out of his league. But still, you pushed through.

You noticed that he hadn't looked over at you in a while. His face was too fixated on the television. You glance over to and notice something. Very subtly, he was mouthing every word spoken in the movie. You kept staring but made sure to not make it obvious enough for him to notice. Word for word, he got everything right. Every single word and sentence was right on time. "How many times has he seen this?", you wondered to yourself. Then, the movie goes silent for a second other than some cinematic music. His lips stopped moving as there were no more words to speak, but a smile grew on his face. You look to the movie and see that it was some sort of scene where the two characters have their first kiss. It's passionate and wholesome. "I think I'm love with you.", you say as you stare at him. He jumps as his shocked expression jerks from the tv to your face. His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape. "R-REALLY?!" You laugh at his excitement. "Of course! I know it!", you assure him before placing a kiss on his cheek.

Heisenberg

"Son of a bitch..." he grumbled quietly as he fiddled with something small in his hands. He had been working on a gift for you for a while now, but he needed it to be absolutely perfect. His face was sweaty even though he wasn't doing anything that required any hard physical labor. It was just the sheer intensity of his own perfectionism that caused such stress for him. He had a pair of glasses that he never wears on. They just help magnify things for him so he can see even the smallest little details of whatever he's working on.

"Heisey, I'm bored. Mind if I sit in here while you work? I promise I won't be a distraction.", you lean on the doorway to his workshop. "Sure but you're gonna have to sit..", he paused for a second as he dragged a metal chair across the room, setting it in a corner that's the farthest away from him. "Oh come on!", you groan. "Don't give me that bitchin'. I'm busy and this is top secret stuff I'm working on!" You groan at his ridiculousness and walk over to the chair anyway. You sat down and watched as his brow remained furrowed intensely. "Damn. He must be working on something serious." You thought to yourself. You noticed he had his tongue sticking out ever so slightly as he worked. You wanted to chuckle, but didn't want to distract him. "Stupid piece of shit..... come on....", he whispers to himself through gritted teeth.

You stared at him, captivated by his focus and intensity. Whatever he's working on must be really small because he's able to hide it from your field of vision with just his hand. He kept grunting and whispering things under his breath. You could tell he was growing frustrated with whatever he was working on. "What are you working on again?", you question. "It's a surprise.", he says bluntly. Your interest is peaked.

He looked goofy. His large body was hunched over a chair, hovering over something so small you hadn't even seen it yet. How could something so small be causing so much stress from such a large man. The absurdity of it all caused you to chuckle. "What the hell's so funny?" He sounds aggravated as all hell yet his focus never strays away from whatever is in his hands. He looked to be carving into whatever it is.

"I think I'm in love with you.", you blurt out. He responds with a cocky chuckle after pausing for a second. You couldn't tell, but in that second where he was speechless, he felt like his heart stopped. Did you really mean it? Could you really mean it? Why now? How could him in such a strange position invoke feelings of affection from you? While his mind raced, he was able to appear as if it didn't affect him. "Oh yeah? How come?" "You're just so funny looking right now. But in a cute way.", you explain. "Like, you're this big and powerful guy, but you're so stressed over something that's so smile and you're trying so hard to work on whatever it is with your giant hands. I'm not sure why, but it's just so loveable to me."

He had completely frozen during your words. He had no idea what to do. It felt as if his brain short circuited and was unable to proceed normally from that moment. "You know what. I think it's perfect.", he says before stepping away from his workshop table with his hand clasped together. He swallowed harshly as he walked towards you and revealed what was in his hands. He made a necklace all by himself with his own blood, sweat, and tears. On the front, it was his family crest. He had manage to manipulate the metal perfectly. On the back it had the word "Buttercup", engraved. You didn't hesitate to put it around your neck. "It looks even better on you.", he smirks before pulling you into a kiss.

[ragingbookdragon]

It’s like a whirlwind inside her brain, a howling gale slamming the shutters against the windows of the house in her mind that’s the supposed to keep everything contained, the anger, the hatred, all of it locked under key. And yet, for as loud as it is in her head, the louder dining room is only twisting the key tighter, forcing the pent-up emotion to the surface.

Her grips tightens on the silverware, one hand curled around the fork the other the steak knife and it would take a split second to jam it somewhere that would more than likely kill her in seconds and somehow, somehow she forces herself to put it down but now that the hand is free, it’s curling into a fist, nails biting into the skin until there are half-crescents torn into her palm and the blood creeps down her skin like a trickle of warmth.

The laughter is too boisterous, the hysteric arguments too enraging to her already volatile state. Whatever straw breaks the camel’s back is unknown to her because all she can see is a shattered, crystal glass on the floor and pomegranate juice dripping down the wall from where it impacted. But there’s silence. Sweet, sweet silence.

She feels the hush come over her siblings and her father, but it doesn’t quell the rage inside that’s rolling around her chest cavity in waves like burning lava cascading against the rocks. She lowers slowly back into her seat, waiting for an inevitable question. It comes from her second oldest sibling.

“Are you okay?”

She blinks, voice monotone as she deadpans, “I should be allowed to hunt down and murder every male director who portrays the female breakdown coming to a close with a shattered glass because the only thing that did was make me want to smash more things.” She shrugs. “But it got the point across.”

“And that point was?” her eldest brother asks.

“To get you all to shut up.” her dead expression shifts to one riddled with annoyance. “Surprisingly, it’s quiet now but everything is still so loud inside my head. Nor does it make me feel any less full of rage.”

Her father, and she can see him from her peripheral, is the one to ask now. “What are you angry about?”

“Take your pick, I’ve got loads to choose from,” she regards with a carelessness that shows her picture-perfect control slipping. “My uselessness to the world, my family, my own life.” Her shrug presents an opening, and she laughs, hollow and lifeless, turning to him. “Why in God’s name would you fuck my mother and keep me when she dropped me on your doorstep?”

Her family is shocked to say the least, to hear her explicative, but more so to hear her curse her own life; she’s never once said anything like this.

“You could’ve gone about your merry, billionaire-playboy way and given me away to some boring, average family where I would’ve been valued for being an average, boring woman. But no, you kept me, and I’m stuck here. I’m stuck being the only person in this fucking family who doesn’t excel at vigilantism, so I don’t have the community or the friends that you do, and yet even the high-class society doesn’t care about anything I do, and my name is Wayne and I’m actually your fucking kid.”

She finds herself unable to keep sitting and she stands to her feet, beginning to pace the floor like it will form the words she needs to say, the things she’s repressed all these years.

“I hate this family. I fucking hate it. I spend more time thinking about stepping in front of oncoming traffic because God, one day without having to spend a moment in my head would be heaven sent.” She turns, eyes narrowed on her family. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to wait for those ten minutes of social interaction where you all are not concerned with beating criminals within inches of their lives? Do you know what it is like to talk to all of you as someone who’s mind doesn’t calculate crime scenes like it’s as easy as snapping your fingers? It is soul-shattering to be alive in this family when being an average fucking human being actually means you’re an outsider.”

Her anger doesn’t quell, but it cools to a hiss. “I don’t want to be in this family. I don’t want to be your daughter. I can’t do this shit anymore. I’m literally going fucking insane in my own goddamn house, and I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

For a group of the smartest people alive, no one can form a single, coherent thought to calm their sister who never had a complaint in her life.

Her expressions turns to some semblance of satisfaction at the unshackled hurt on her father’s face. “I’ve dreamed about this conversation before. It usually ends with you being stoic, but I’m oddly surprised to see that the truth actually hurts you.”

She rolls her shoulders, reaches up to her neck and takes the silver chain in her hand. It’s an heirloom her father gave her from her grandmother, but it means nothing as she yanks it; the clasp snaps and she tosses it onto the dinner table. It stands out against the crimson tablecloth and one spare glance is all she gives it, there’s nothing but contempt for the charm sitting helplessly on the broken chain. She turns, voiceless and emotionless, and leaves the dining room, the garage door slamming behind her like a final close to the conversation.

They don’t speak, too stunned to still react like their sister and daughter didn’t just disown them. Bruce stares at the sterling silver necklace, a grief collapsing his chest in, caving his heart around all the wrong things he never saw, to the boiling point he didn’t see coming. He doesn’t know if his daughter is going to come home.

She won’t.

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

How about a major nsfw scene where they are walking around the castle, just talking, but end up in the dungeon, if ya know what I mean ;)

@krispytidalwavesheep This is the fic I was talking about from your ask!

Warning: NSFW

“...And you’ve contacted the florist? Will the flower arrangements be arriving by tomorrow?”

“Yes, my Lady,” you say, pushing your glasses back over your nose as you check over your checklist for the hundredth time that day. You and Lady Dimitrescu had been going over the preparations for the ball tomorrow all morning. She had followed you around as you walked the length of the Castle, making sure everything was perfect for the occasion. The parquet floor has been swept to perfection, the windows polished, the banisters a riot of flowers.

As you are walking, you turn a corner and suddenly find yourself in an unfamiliar corridor. You turn to Lady Dimitrescu, a question forming on your lips. Suddenly, you hear a guttural growl, and find one of the Moroaicǎ bearing down on you with a Claymore. A scream rips from your throat as you cover your eyes, bracing for impact. It doesn’t come; instead, you hear the slash of metal slicing flesh. You open your eyes and find Alcina standing before you with her claws extended. The Moroaicǎ’s head rolls forgotten on the floor.

Alcina immediately runs over to you, cradling your face in between her large hands, running her thumbs along your cheekbones. “Darling, did it touch you? Are you hurt?” Concern is evident in her golden eyes.

“I’m fine, my Lady,” you say, feeling your face go scarlet at Alcina’s ministrations. “Really.”

The truth was the two of you had gotten rather close over the past couple weeks after the manthings’ attack on Castle Dimitrescu. You had even shared a couple nights together. When you saw Alcina’s muscles ripple as she severed the Moroaicǎ’s head from its body, you remembered what it was like having those arms wrapped around you and you felt your core heaten with desire.

Alcina smiles and kisses the back of your hand. “Come along, pet,” she says, taking your hand in hers. “Surely there won’t be any preparations needed for the dungeon?”

She turns to go, but you suddenly find yourself rooted to the spot. She looks at you in confusion.

“My, Lady,” you say slowly. “I know that we’ve been intimate…”

Alcina chuckles. “Whatever made you think of that, dear?”

You blush further but press on. “When you make love to me, my Lady,” you continue. “You’re always so gentle with me. As if I’m a fine piece of china and you fear I might break.”

Alcina puts her hand under your chin and tilts your face up to meet hers. “And do you not like the way I touch you, ingeras?” Her tone is mild, but her aureate eyes are alert and you find yourself unable to break away from her intense gaze.

“No, my Lady,” you whisper softly, holding her hand in place to your cheek. “I rather enjoy it. But there are times when I wish you would be...rougher with me.”

Alcina’s eyes are half lidded with desire. “And is now one of those times, pet?”

You suddenly find it difficult to breathe as you whisper, “Yes.”

She moves in suddenly to kiss you but you quickly sidestep out of her reach. She chuckles low in her throat. “Feeling a bit of a tease tonight, are we?”

You dance your way back to her, taking her hand in yours and leading her to a set of manacles chained to the wall. “Now just what are you planning?” she wonders, an amused smile playing at her carmine lips.

Taking the manacles in your hands, you clasp them over your Lady’s wrists. Then you pull the chain running through them until her back is flush against the wall, her wrists chained above her head. You turn your back to her but feel her eyes upon you as you turn around in the middle of the room.

Without once breaking eye contact with Alcina, you slide your hand up your skirt and slip two fingers into your core. You know your own touch cannot possibly compare to your Lady’s but it is so worth it to see Alcina’s mouth fall open in shock, her golden eyes burning with jealousy that she is not the one touching you, that it is not her fingers buried in your core.

As you increase the pace of your thrusting, you spot the Moroaicǎ’s discarded Claymore and get an idea. You take it and slash open the front of your dress. You rest the tip of the sword over your collarbone and press in slowly until blood begins to pour down your chest, settling between the valley of your breasts.

Alcina is snarling and railing against her bonds. Her teeth are bared, fangs glinting in the torchlight as she struggles to break free. You feel your climax building as she growls in frustration, spittle flying off her lips.

You hear the sound of metal screeching as Alcina finally breaks free of the manacles with a snap. Within seconds, she has crossed the distance between the two of you. With another slash of her claws, she rips the rest of your clothes off, like they were so much tissue paper. Holding you flush to her body, she runs her tongue over your collarbone, greedily lapping up any leftover blood.

Alcina pins you to the wall, slapping your hand away before sliding her fingers into your already dripping cunt. She does not maintain the pace she usually uses. Her movements are faster, more hurried this time. You rock your hips in time to each thrust, but soon find it difficult to keep up.

The two of you have made love plenty of times before this, but this is one of the few times you’re actually getting fucked.

She leans down and intermittently darts her wicked tongue into your core, stroking your inner walls, alternating her thrusting between her fingers and her tongue. Her nails bite into the curve of your hips as she holds you in place. You wrap your legs around her waist, leaning your head against the wall as you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Is this what you had in mind, slut?” she hisses, nipping the shell of your ear with the tip of her fangs. “I hope you’re prepared for what comes next.” She gives you a manic grin as she slips another one of her fingers into your core.

You choke out a gasp as the extra digit is added and Alcina gives you a satisfied smirk. “This is what our stretching sessions have been about, dear,” she cooes. “Come now, I know you can take it.”

You’re riding three of her fingers now and she is continuing her thrusting at a relentless pace. The stone wall against your back feels cold and clammy even as you feel yourself breaking out into a sweat due to Alcina’s ministrations.

When you finally orgasm, your voice echoes along the dungeon walls as you scream out Alcina’s name. Sinking along the wall, you find yourself going limp in Alcina’s arms. You feel Alcina’s tongue rasp along your thighs as she laps up your juices. “How very sweet you are, draga mea,” she purrs. She looks up at you and you see her ruby lips are dotted with flecks of white. Holding out her hand imperiously, she proffers her fingers slick with your orgasm. “You should really sample yourself, dear.”

You take her hand in yours and gently wrap your mouth around each digit in turn, rolling your tongue around each finger, suckling at your leftover juices. You feel her golden eyes upon you as you remove your mouth from her last finger, your lips making a firm popping sound.

Alcina can see that you are happy but exhausted. She runs her dry hand through your hair, now snarled and full of tangles. “Looks like I’ve tired you out, my dear,” she says, kissing your forehead. “We should get you cleaned up. How does a bath sound?”

You smile at her and give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “That does sound lovely. Thank you.”

Alcina carries you through the castle to the Hall of Ablutions and if anyone is curious as to why the Countess is carrying you naked and bloody, they at least make sure not to ask questions. When you finally arrive at the bathroom, Alcina orders the bathroom attendant to draw you a bath and waves her off after the tub is full.

You step in and sigh as the hot water makes contact with your sweaty and clammy body. You lean your head back against the porcelain and enjoy the warmth of the water seeping into your bones.

“Is there room for one more, draga mea?” Alcina teases. You look up and see that Alcina has already discarded her clothes on the floor. You smile and scoot up a little bit to make room for her. Alcina settles herself behind you and you sit on her lap as she begins tenderly massaging your scalp with soap, getting rid of any leftover blood that may have made its way to your hair.

“Do you know why I am usually so gentle with you?” she whispers.

You turn back to look at her. “You tell me,” you return, smiling mischievously.

But Alcina is serious. She turns your face to her, rubbing a thumb along your jawline. “It is because you are precious to me. When I see that someone so kind and so pure as you would want to be with someone like me. A monster like me-”

“Don’t say that,” you say fiercely, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “Don’t even think it.”

“Even so,” she continues and you are shocked to see her eyes are starting to pool with tears. “The fact that you know what I am, what I am capable of, and yet you still choose to be with me means more than any words I could hope to express. You are precious to me, my dearest darling. You are a treasure. And I love you.”

You can hardly breathe. Technically this is the second time she has told you that she has loved you. But you are ready for it this time. You kiss her hard, weaving your fingers through her dark locks. You pull away and look into her fathomless golden orbs as you say, “And I love you too, Alcina.”

“Well,” she says, chuckling low in her throat. “After all the the times we’ve spent with each other, it's about time you called me by my true name.” You feel another chuckle ripple through her body as she moves to kiss you again.

[kiame-sama]

28 Years - Yandere!Silva x Reader (2nd Pregnancy)

Many have asked and now, here it is!!

Warnings; Dub-con, pregnancy, yandere relationship, manipulation, mention of past abuse, yandere, yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, nsfw, Silva extreme views, family bonding,

It had been a few years- close to six- but the scars of your emotional turmoil were still present in your behavior and actions. You would become distressed whenever Silva attempted to be intimate with you, only calming down when he would back off, giving you the space you needed. Sometimes he would and sometimes he wouldn't, but he generally had not lain a single hand on you with any intent to hurt or force you to do anything.

It seemed he might have learned from his egregious error of taking Illumi away from you and punishing you for running away from him. Now he was cautious and treated you like glass in his grip, still keeping you close as often as possible and readjusting you to his touch. Some progress has been made- you no longer flinched from his touch or sobbed when he held you- but you still reacted like you were being burned or tortured with any kind of intimacy.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Silva hated seeing your pained expression, listening to your frightened whimpers and cries, seeing your panic whenever he tried to pin you under him, and most of all he hated how you never seemed to enjoy intimacy with him anymore. Even when he had first kidnapped you, you would make such loud noises and moans of pleasure any time he touched you and now you just panicked and cried. He didn't think your rejection of his affection would impact him so deeply, but he honestly couldn't remain hard or cum when you cried in such a way whenever he took you.

He was unable to enjoy it if you didn't enjoy it.

He could be a patient man, but he also had burning needs that drew him into near feral insanity if he refused to indulge in them. Silva NEEDED you. He needed your touch, your affection, your intimacy, all of it. He had tried to ignore his needs more than once before and almost every time he was unable to last very long, aching with desire just to feel your touch against his skin.

Even if it meant you were striking him or cursing at him, he would feverishly accept your touch with absolute glee. He was so sick with how desperately he needed you. His only 'cure' to this aching need was indulgence in his addiction to you. He was addicted to everything you had to offer and to everything you did. Nothing other than you mattered to him because you were his world. You were his love, his light, his everything.

True to his assassin nature, he quietly entered the room, frowning upon seeing you curled up in your shared bed and slightly shivering from the cold his absence seemed to cause. He chose to wake you gently, massaging your shoulders and murmuring softly to you in a husky hum.

"(Y/n), wake up..."

"Ngh... Hm? Silva? What is it?"

"I want to try something with you."

He felt your body stiffen as you fully awoke due to his words, fear and anxiety shooting through you almost violently at the implications his words had. You could only muster a whimper and start shaking your head back and forth, not trusting your words to be enough to deny his advances. Still he persisted, arms snaking around your midsection and pulling your back up against a warm chest.

"Shh... Trust me."

"No... No. No! No no no no no no no no!"

You were thrashing like a wild animal at this point, clawing for freedom and screaming out as if in pain, biting him when you could as you tried to wrench yourself from his grasp. He continued to simply hold you close as you thrashed, wailing and fighting his grip with all you had. But even your energy had to die down at some point, panting and whining pathetically as you lay exhausted in his arms.

"It's alright. It's okay... See? You're okay."

"No..."

"Yes. Have I hurt you during all of this?"

"... No..."

"See? I just need you to trust me. It won't hurt and we can take this as slowly as you want."

"I don't want it..."

"You do. You just think you don't because you're scared. I hurt you. I have done you wrong and unknowingly enforced the idea of intimacy being a punishment. I should have shown restraint and should have never done what I did to make you run in the first place. Let me show you this is different. Let me show you it's okay."

"..."

Your whimpers quieted as you lay hyper aware of any movement Silva made, feeling one arm drag down your side and his hand come to a rest on your lower stomach. When you didn't immediately try to push him away, he continued to follow the soft curve of your body until his large hand was parting your thighs. He slid his hand into your sleep pants where he cupped your heat and gently kissed your shoulder, slowly beginning to rub light pressure over your sensitive body.

The softest of noises left you, some kind of mix between a whimper and a moan, uncertain if you were whining from fear or due to the gentle movements of your husband. When Silva added a bit more pressure to your warm heat, you expected a flash of pain to stab through you, instead a soothing sensation ran through your mind and compelled you to calm just a bit more. Your light moans seemed to be the only confirmation Silva needed to keep going, sliding his hand gently between your soft folds, fingers prodding at your wet entrance.

Your mewling moans turned into gasps of pleasure as you gripped his thick arm, pressing back against his warm chest and whining in bliss. The light feeling of his lips trailing over your neck made you whine and shiver, hips beginning to slowly move with his relaxed strokes. You could feel how much your responses were affecting him given the rock-hard length that pressed stiffly against your back, pulsing in desire and need.

He tugged at your loose sleep clothes, easily sliding them off of your body, leaving you bare against his broad chest. His hands were warm as they slid over your chilled flesh, letting the heat sink into your body and warm you to the core. It was clear he was taking great care to not cause you any level of pain, given his relaxed touch and gentle behavior.

You whimpered when he moved so you were laying face-down on the bed, your hips raised up and his muscled body over your own. The firmness that pressed against you made you mewl and turn your head to look at him in vague fear despite the slick that coated your thighs. It was clear you were still frightened and hesitant to the idea of intimacy with Silva after what he had done to you, but the large hands on your hips gave you little room to voice that fear.

"Shh... It's alright..."

He shifted above you and you were about to question what it was he was doing when an intense warmth met your pulsing pussy, gasping and gripping at the blankets as an obscene slurping sound met your ears. Silva lapped his tongue at your soaked heat, making you mewl and cry out against the blankets beneath you, arching your back as pleasure hummed through your entire body. You couldn't stop the moans that tumbled from your lips due to the mind-numbing bliss that sparked through your brain, balling up your fists as you tried to hold back the sounds.

"Fuck..! Fuck, it- it's so good..!"

You were practically drooling at that point from the pleasure that coiled itself tightly in your abdomen, your eyes clenching shut as you continued to whine loudly. Silva seemed to only be spurred on from your pleasured noises, sinking his tongue as deeply into you as he could, gripping your hips and moving you in time with his desperate licking. When you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, you let out a loud screech of bliss as that coil snapped and flooded your body with euphoria, shaking from the sheer force of the pleasure.

"There we go... Fuck, you look so good squirting for me like this."

A whine left your exhausted form as he slid two fingers into you, moving and scissoring them slowly to get your warm walls to loosen for him. You were able to just lean into your pillows, feeling the echos of pleasure building up inside of you once more as Silva slowly but surely worked you over. He continued with his slow movements, letting you move your hips back against his fingers and fucking yourself on them at the pace you wanted all while admiring the wonderful view he had of your blissed out expression.

When your hips began to slightly stutter and jerk at a faster pace, he pulled away from you, relishing the sound of your needy whine of disapproval. He didn't hesitate to lick his fingers clean of your slick, getting a few more slow strokes of his tongue on your soaked pussy before getting to the matter at hand. He lined himself up, only allowing the tip of his large cock to rub against your tight hole as he gently massaged your hips.

"Would you like more?"

"Ple-please! Yes- yes, please, Silva! I need- ngh- I need more!"

"Then go ahead and take more. Go as fast or as slowly as you wish. Take my cock into you."

Silva was actually slightly surprised at how you reacted to his words, almost trying to take him in too quickly as you pushed your hips back, letting him sink deeper into you. The sheer stretch of taking his entire length was enough to make your toes curl in pleasure, needing to pause for a moment just to try and adjust to the full feeling. Some part of him wondered if you were even fully aware of the grasp you had on his heart, the sole being that held all of his affections and attention.

"Silva..! Please..! I need you to move..!"

You were mewling under him, gripping the sheets tightly as you whimpered and tightly closed your eyes. It was clear that you were in need of some kind of release and he was the only one who could provide it for you.

He wouldn't deny your breathy pleas, at least.

Starting with a slow tempo that built up to a near impossible speed, the bed creaked and complained loudly beneath you due to his unrelenting thrusts. You were in mind-numbing bliss and truly didn't care about the absolute racket you were making as you practically screamed out your moans, letting the sculpted man move your body as he pleased. Silva was in a similar state, lost to the pleasure of hearing your sweet moans as he buried himself inside of you.

He had yearned for such a sound for quite a bit now and your rejection of his affection over the past few years had left him nearly starved for you. Truly, there was only so much he was able to take when it came to resisting his physical need for your touch, wanting desperately to just hold you and have you cry out for him. He was finally able to feel your tight walls milk his hot cock and listen to your breathy moans, seeing you writhe in pleasure from the large cock buried inside of you.

"Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love me. Scream it for me."

"Ngh-! Silva! I- fuck- I love it..! So big..! So damn good! Please! Please I need more!"

Despite the fact you did not say everything he wanted to hear, Silva continue to rut into you with fast angled thrusts that made you practically see stars. His grip on your hips was tight, but you didn't register anything other than that thick length moving inside of you wildly. Even as your eyes rolled back, you couldn't help the whining moans that wrenched from your throat fiercely.

The moment that pressure growing within you broke, you wailed out in a near tortured moan while pleasure washed over you for what felt like ages. The hot ropes of cum filling up your soft stomach only seemed to prolong the pleasure that ran through your veins, as if time itself stood still around you. When Silva finally pulled out of you, you collapsed on the bed and panted heavily, feeling almost too full as you moved to a much more comfortable position.

Silva's large arms wrapped around you and pulled you close, letting you sink into the warm heat that radiated from his sculpted figure. It was truly as if the two of you were just basking in the presence of one another all while you slipped back off into sleep, content with the warm figure that held you so close. Silva took longer to just enjoy the moment after finally getting to embrace you once more without any fear getting in the way.

For now, it seems he had managed to mend the scars of his egregious error and had you content to be with him once more.

~~~~~~~~

You lay on your side, curled up on the tile floor of your shared bathroom, trying to get the queasy feeling to subside enough to move. You honestly couldn't remember a time where you felt half as unwell as you did at that moment, feeling tears sting your eyes as your throat burned with exhaustion. At that point, all you really wanted was to sleep, but with the current exhausted state your body was in, you had no way of reaching the comfort of your bed or the warm embrace of your blankets.

The quiet sound of your door opening drew what little you had left of your attention span, hardly able to lift your head all that far from the tile as you attempted to rouse your body into an upright position. Despite your efforts, it was clear there was no way you were going to be able to sit up and so you simply remained on the cold tile as you awaited whomever had entered the room. To your vague surprise it was not Silva who came through the door, it was Zeno and he honestly seemed as if he hadn't expected to find you in the state you were currently in.

With a surprising gentleness, the elder came to your side and rest the back of his hand on your forehead. He seemed to have some level of honest concern as he gazed down at your exhausted form splayed out on the tile.

"Shall I go retrieve that useless doctor of yours?"

"... Please..."

It took more effort than you had expected to huff out that one word, feeling oddly cared for and respected simply for the fact he asked what you wanted instead of acting of his own accord. Silva would have never done that. He would have taken one look at your unwell state and practically ran to retrieve your kind doctor to have you checked for any cause that may explain your current position.

It didn't take long for him to send out word to have your doctor come to your room before he was back by your side. Truly, if there ever were a time you felt honest appreciation for your father in law, it would be at that exact moment. He could have easily left you to suffer alone on the tile and instead not only sent for help, but returned to your side to wait with you.

"Is there anything you need at this moment?"

"..."

You tried to form some kind of sentence to respond to him, but you felt as if the energy had just been ripped out of you as your eyes began to slowly close. A sharp snapping sound brought your attention back to the man before you who now seemed to almost be more than just concerned.

"No sleeping. Not yet. Do your best to remain awake, Brat."

The faintest of smiles pulled at your lips when you heard that name that he only used for those he felt responsible for as well as those he cared for. Zeno was an assassin through and through and was a proud man at that, but he did have some kind of emotions that were reserved for family and close friends of the family. He was cold and to the point with almost everyone, but he was far more gruff and pushy with those he actually cared about given the way he has had to live on where his wife had died delivering Silva.

It was the only way he knew how to show affection.

"Where..?"

"Silva? Just left on a job this morning. A long job. It should take him at the least a month, if not longer. Of course you would choose now of all days to fall ill, Brat."

"Not.. dead yet..."

A low huff of amusement came from the older man as he sighed and sat next to you on the floor, keeping you constant company despite having no obligation to do so.

"I'm not telling Silva about this until he gets back. You know as well as I do that he would leave the job the moment he heard you were unwell. That fool loves you more than even he realizes."

His words, though harsh, made complete sense to you. Often you had thought that Silva was far more obsessed with you than anyone else realized, given how you were one of the very few who ever saw his true nature without the trained restraint and cold tone he almost always had. He was mentally unwell due to his upbringing and obsessed with you beyond reason, and he believed his actions were justified due to his familial heritage when it came to what they considered to be love.

Maha lived through it. Zeno's father died from it. Zeno lived through it. Silva will die from it.

An insane love that compelled them to do all they could to obtain and keep the object of their affections, even going as far as kidnapping and imprisonment. Silva's sickness is worse than theirs had been, and he is the only one that managed to keep his darling- you- alive. They understood and accepted the obsession he had with you and were content to keep you in Silva's arms as long as possible.

The door to your room opened with a loud creak before Kikyo made her way into the bathroom where you lay. It was clear she moved in a much more rushed pace when she saw you laying on the tile shivering, not even needing to be told to start checking you. She was being much more gentle and seemed to be far more expressive than usual as she examined you with great care.

"It seems to me you may be pregnant again."

You felt surprise run through your veins, but that surprise dulled down for a moment as you recounted what it was like when you were pregnant with Illumi. It certainly made sense, especially given all that happened up to that point.

"If she is pregnant again, I need to have a chat with Silva about keeping his damn hands off her child this time."

"Yes, sir. Shall I contact-"

"Tell him and I'll make you wish you never even considered it to begin with."

~~~~Three Months~~~~

You sat next to Zeno as you remained curled up nice and cozy in your heated blanket, sharing it with the elder who kept you company thus far in your pregnancy. Silva was expected to return any day now and you both knew the absolute fit he would throw the moment he learned what his father had been keeping from him. At least you had some peace and quiet without Silva around for a good bit, though part of you figured he would never accept another long job seeing as something important had been kept from him because of it.

Regardless, you were comfortable and starting to doze off when an unexpected question snapped you awake.

"That doctor of yours, she's the one who set you free after Silva took Illumi from you, isn't she?"

Your surprise must have been clear on your face as Zeno simply nodded, not taking his eyes away from the large television screen you two had been watching. He didn't seem particularly surprised at the answer to his question, nor did he seem all that angry either. It was almost like he knew the whole time but still wanted you to confirm it before he accepted it as truth.

"Please don't-"

"I won't tell Silva. I figured that was the case when you had somehow managed to get out. There would have been no way for you to do it on your own and the only person who had access to you outside of the family was her. To tell you the truth, part of me had actually hoped that you would manage to get away. To escape this place."

"... Why?"

"Because in many ways you remind me of my own wife. Often I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't caught her after she escaped. If I hadn't hurt her as Silva did to you... Perhaps she would still be here today."

You were surprised to hear all of this, having been too worried of upsetting Zeno to ask about the fate of his wife. It seemed she had been in the same boat you were currently in, but it had killed her where you had managed to survive. Before you could ask any more questions about the mysterious woman Zeno spoke so rarely of, the door swung open with a familiar level of force that made you jump slightly in response.

Silva was home.

There wasn't even enough time for you to welcome him back before you were being pulled up into his large arms, feeling his forehead against your shoulder as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His large hands easily cradled your body close to his own all while his lips roamed your soft skin feverishly. You were about to try and call out for him to stop for a moment before an old voice beat you to it.

"You can't fuck her, Silva."

"I can do what I wish with my wife, when I wish."

"Not while she's pregnant you can't."

All movement halted the moment Silva registered his father's words, tensing his entire body as he slowly came to terms with what he had been told. Silva moved rather slowly as he positioned you to be cradled in one of his large arms, his hand coming up to rest against your stomach which had already begun to swell up. He almost seemed to be in a trance while he stayed statue-still, sorting out both his thoughts and emotions on the realization.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Silva's voice was a deep and angered growl in his chest, sending shivers down your spine due to your proximity to the very man who could quite easily snap at any moment. Zeno seemed mostly unfazed by the aggressive growl and instead took to observing his sharp nails as if he were bored with the situation he found himself in. You really had to admire the old man's lack of fear while facing off with Silva, who you feared more than you cared to admit.

"Because you would have abandoned your job and that would be a terrible reflection on the Zoldyck family."

"She's been pregnant this whole time and you didn't damn well tell me?"

"Watch your tone, Brat. She's alive, isn't she?"

"How long have you known?"

"Since the very day you left. That morning was when she first began showing signs."

You felt the tension in Silva's body rise to near extreme levels, letting out a sharp cry as his grasp around your soft body tightened past the point of comfort. Your cry made Silva calm immediately and loosen his grasp so he no longer held you quite as tight. That cry seemed to have caused a temporary lapse in Silva's anger as he treated you with extreme care and gently set you back on the couch, giving you a quick once-over to check for any injuries he may have caused.

"Never again."

You looked up in confusion at Silva's lowly growled words, wondering just what he was talking about.

"I'll never leave you for that long again, I swear it."

~~~Six Months~~~

You lay in complete relaxation under your warm blanket, spooning a wonderfully soft pillow all while you dozed lightly on the couch. If anything, this pregnancy was far more... Relaxed... Than your first one had been. Silva seemed to be taking extra care to show nothing but the utmost affection towards you and your child during this whole ordeal and honestly it was doing wonders for you.

You still had that internal need to shield your stomach and your baby from the man who had caused all of this in the first place. This meant his caution around you and extra positive attention towards your unborn infant was all your brain needed to feel more secure in your fragile state even though such a dangerous man lurked nearby at all times. Silva got you anything you could possibly want the moment you brought it up regardless of what time it was or what he happened to be doing at the time you mentioned it.

Whatever food you wanted was immediately made and sent straight to you. If you wanted more blankets you need only shiver before countless blankets were being piled on top of you. Any vague sign of discomfort and Silva was immediately doing everything in his power to ease your troubles in whatever way he could.

You even got to see your first-born Illumi more than a few times as the young boy's presence soothed you immensely as did his sweet curiosity. Illumi may show little to no emotion, but what little he did show he only did so while near you. You could only smile at the memory of Illumi's large and curious eyes staring up at you questioningly while he rest his cheek against your swollen stomach.

"But how did it get in there?"

"Eh... I'll tell you when you're older, okay?"

"Okay. Hey, Mama?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"I promise to take care of any little siblings I get to have."

"That's very sweet of you, Illumi, thank you, my darling."

"Anything for you, Mama."

Despite the odd behavior and almost frightening temper of your first-born, you felt more at ease than you had given the fact that you knew your son would always be on your side regardless of what may happen. Even with his cold demeanor, Illumi showed true affection for you and seemed rather insistent that you have nothing to worry about when it came to the future of your unborn child. At least you felt as if Silva learned his lesson to not take your children away from you too early as well as learning just what a positive impact your son has on you.

You were taking a rather wonderful and deep nap after getting to spend some time with Illumi and had recently awoken, content to just lay still and let yourself slowly wake up. The slow and gentle sound of footsteps drew your attention from hazy thoughts into sharp clarity, listening for whomever they belonged to. A large hand against your stomach almost made you tense up in fear, but the gentle way it lay against your skin kept you relaxed and calm.

"If you kill her, I will come for you next."

Cold jolted down your spine as you heard the low growled words against your stomach. Silva didn't often talk to your stomach or the life within unless it was to appease some request you made or to simply cheer you up. You were well aware that Silva would not handle your untimely demise in the slightest given just how distraught he would be at any idea of you being taken away from him.

You needed to keep your baby safe. But you felt like it was a near impossible task due to Silva hovering around you almost constantly. He certainly didn't take your condition lightly and considering how he received the news months after you did, you knew he refused to spend even an hour away from your side.

To some degree you appreciated the knowledge that nothing from outside of the estate could hurt you, but you also feared the fact that your husband took his 'protector' role rather seriously and could easily cause harm to you. He always said he wouldn't and yet you felt like you knew better, especially after your first several years with him. His lowly growled out words chilled you to your core and you only hoped that he would be in a much better mood once the child was safely out of you.

~~~~ 9 1/2 Months ~~~~

When the hell was it going to end!? You head read of some pregnancies lasting up to as long as a year, but you were getting more than a little tired and Silva's patience was near nonexistent.

"That rat is NOT allowed to keep you for so long. It's coming out today."

"Silva, for once would you just let me do things my way and decide what to do?"

"I am done waiting for it to come out on its own."

"What exactly do you plan to do?"

"Get the doctors to induce labor or just cut it out of you already."

"Would you just-"

You went cold and silent as a familiar feeling washed over you, feeling a slowly growing and rolling contraction beginning to tug at your insides. The panic in your expression seemed to tell him that something had happened and he immediately dropped the subject in favor of tending to you. You were barely aware of what seemed to be going on around you as another wave of dizziness washed over you along with a rather piercing contraction.

Silva stayed with you through it all, refusing to leave even as you were rushed into the delivery room. There was not one moment that passed that Silva wasn't letting you grip as tightly as you needed to his hand, speaking in a low rumble that he only reserved for rare moments of sensitivity.

Everything was primarily a blur to you, passing by in seconds that lasted hours and hours that lasted seconds. So when you finally heard that cry and a faint congratulations, you were already blacking out far too quickly to respond as your entire body achingly tried to reduce the tension in your over worked muscles.

Silva's heart rate jacked through the roof as you went limp in his arms, clearly something having gone wrong during delivery. The honest desperation in not only his actions, but in his very being seemed to leech out any other emotion, his eyes never leaving your face all while the doctor and nurses scrambled around you to do what they could. Silva had dealt with being alone while growing up and never wanted to experience it again, the simple idea of losing you causing the most blood-thirsty aura to spill from him.

If the sheer intimidation wasn't enough to get the medical staff working desperately, that cold glare Silva had locked them with sure as hell would be. There were no questions as to the nature of the consequences they face should they fail, the presence of the dangerous man only serving to add more stress unto the delivery room. The infant had been taken away somewhere quiet and safe so the doctor and nurses could focus on your suddenly poor condition, knowing that their only chance of survival was ensuring you survived.

Silva refused to move or leave or even look away from you before the doctor was able to say confidently that you would live. Even after that time came and passed as you were brought back to a stable condition, Silva had no intention to ever leave your side.

Thanks to the fact his father kept your condition a secret on favor of Silva completing a job, Silva refused to be away from you for any longer than a few days from then on. No more month long jobs that required him to leave you for large chunks of time, now he was committed to staying by your side as often as he possibly could. He adored you and honestly figured heirs weren't worth the risk of you dying, resolving to remove any pregnancy that may occur before you became aware of it.

Two was already too many for him. He didn't want to share you with anyone, but at least the two boys will keep his father off his back about continuing the family line.

He could deal with the brats, so long as everyone knew you were his. He adored you and kidnapped you just so he could get close to you, there's no way he would give you up for anything in the world. You were his world, and ue would protect you until the bitter end.

[red-letter-imagines]

heyy there!! can you do another part of the “reaction when you suck on their tongue but with Mikey, Rindou and mitsuya?

You have no idea how happy I am that my work's so well-received! So there's been more than one request for a part 2, but for different characters. This little dove, however, is the first one so I'll be doing this, then the other characters in later parts, alright? Alright.

Now *cracks knuckles* let's begin!

Reaction When You Suck on Their Tongue Part 2 (Sano Manjiro, Haitani Rindou & Mitsuya Takashi)

Sano "Mikey" Manjiro: (Bonten! Mikey)

You sure you don't need a chaser with that? Sanzu snickers from across you, pupils already blown wide from the pills he'd taken half an hour ago. The pure vodka sears your esophagus, a pool of liquid fire in your abdomen. Tears are springing up your eyes and you wince. Truly, it had been a horrible idea on your side to make bets with Sanzu, of all people. That man has had every drug imaginable enter his system and three overdoses later, is still standing. You should've known better than to order Spirytus, but Sanzu has a way of getting under anyone's skin, especially yours.

He knew you had more than several bones to pick with him after he coaxed Mikey into accepting a million-dollar drug deal with some shady Western cartel. Throughout Bonten's history, it was one of the more careless business trades you'd ever gone through, one that put Mikey in a precarious position. The cartel demanded Mikey's audience for the deal to be done, and while Sanzu reassured you that nothing would happen to their "King", that never stopped you from worrying your head off.

A part of you wanted the drugs and alcohol put him into a coma; you just had to hold your liquor until then. Yet this poisonous bastard is still standing, while you barely have the confidence to stand up straight. He's fucking crazy.

You eye the remaining shot glass. It's rim and ridges bounce the bright glow of the chandeliers above you, its crystal clear contents an elegant deception to those unaware. You suck air through your nose and grab it. Before you could down the last drink of your life, a slender hand slides to your shoulder.

You turn to face Mikey's lilac-rimmed gaze, the darkness swimming within sucking you in like a vacuum. Once he sees the flares of red across your cheeks and down your neck, his lips curl a little. Mikey hates alcohol with a passion; he told you early on that he abhorred its bitterness and how it hazed your mind.

Instantly, you cave under his disappointment, and none-too-gracefully drop your shot glass back on the counter. You barely had time to utter his name before he cups your cheek and kisses you. It's gentle, caring yet the pressure of his pecks stamp his dominance into your very soul.

He plunges his tongue into your booze-laced cavern, and you eagerly latch onto it like a hungry pup. He tasted of red bean paste, its sweetness a balm to your burning senses. He keeps a hand on your neck while you have your fill, biting your lower lip when you part.

You're panting, eyes glazed with wanton need. He strokes a thumb under your ear, and you smile.

You could drink all the alcohol you wanted, but nothing could make you drunker than Sano Manjiro's affection.

Haitani Rindou:

You frown to yourself as you waited outside the heavy steel gates of Roppongi's juvenile detention center. It's been six months since the Haitani brothers had been arrested because of Tenjiku. Along with the other Heavenly King named Mucho, they also scored a reduced sentence, and today will be their first taste of freedom in half a year.

You'd been forced to stay behind when the battle happened; Rindou told you that he didn't want to have to look after you while fighting. A cover-up for his worry, of course. The younger Haitani isn't known for being as emotionally apt as his older brother, yet somehow that rigidness of his is one of the things you love most about him. To this day, Ran still loves to give you both shit for it.

Rindou knew that you'd be pissed beyond belief once you got the news; he promised not to leave you alone again like last time. You didn't come to his trial nor see him when he got permitted for visitations. Ran is in a different cell, and he had nothing but time.

Of course, other than being absolutely furious with him, there were other reasons you couldn't come see your bone breaker of a boyfriend. With them detained, no one is left to defend their title as the Kings of Roppongi. No one except you, that is.

You're quite the force of nature yourself, even before meeting Ran and Rindou. Roppongi had been your stomping grounds since you were ten, and when they started making a name for themselves you refused to submit. Thinking back, it was quite a comical scene: a scruffy-looking little girl baring her teeth at two brothers who'd basically killed a man not too long ago. Despite how ruthless they truly are, they never stooped so low as to hit a girl, much less gang up on one to prove a point. Instead you became friends, and later on fell in love with the younger Haitani, and he with you. Together you ruled over Roppongi, and the rest is history.

So while your man stared at white walls in the slammer, you splattered blood across brick walls as warnings to those who thought they could conquer the city. All on your own, you reigned over Roppongi the entirety of their sentence, and now it's time for the kings to reclaim their throne.

You hear them before you see them; Ran's whimsical tones against Rindou's monotone rebuttals. They're wearing casual clothes instead of the jumpsuits, Ran's hair is in braids as always, but Rindou...

The extra inches of hair does something to you. It flowed around his face like a lion's mane, faded blue streaks shining in the noon sun. He's wearing contacts instead of his frames, and his jaw is sharper than you ever remembered it. Fresh out of prison, and he looks every bit the king of carnage you adore.

Licking your lips, you saunter over to them. The clacking of your heels turn their heads, and they smirk at you. You could see Rindou tense for a split second before reigning himself back in. Once you get close enough, you rear a hand back and slam it against his cheek hard.

Then you grab him by the collar and smooch him right in front of the jail gates. His recovery is quick, and he pulls you close in a vice-grip. You press a thumb down his chin and take his tongue right from his mouth. The light graze of your teeth against the flat of it earns a growl from Rindou. You left me again, you fucking asshole you hiss as you pull away. You doubted he really heard you though, because he dived right to your neck after your liplock. You sigh, meeting eyes with a disgusted Ran.

This man is going to be the death of you one day.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Throughout your relationship, Mitsuya is nothing but gentle. It almost gave you whiplash how different he is when he's with you and when he's with Toman. He's more than happy to bash some scumbag's face in, yet he couldn't look you in the eye if he shows up to school bruised the next day. You're one of the reasons he got so good at dodging blows in the first place-all of this just to keep you from remembering just how dangerously he lives.

His carefulness translated through his affections, most of all. He didn't hold you, he cradled you. When he kissed you, you could practically feel the repressed passion just burning beneath the surface. He treats you as if you were a dandelion on a windy day.

And while you thought his unspoken sentiments are nothing short of chivalrous and sweet, you also found it quite stupid. You knew what you were getting into when he sheepishly confessed, knew about him being a captain of Toman's second division. So naturally, you'd braced yourself for all sorts of chaos. Plus, only having to witness one side of him irked something inside of you that you couldn't quite explain. You'd made it perfectly clear that you loved him, bruises and all. Yet when he looked at you with such adoring lavender eyes, you couldn't bear to chide him for wanting to treasure you.

So, you decided to show him through other means.

You're waiting for him to finish inside the sewing club room. He's finishing the hemline of a kimono-a birthday present he's preparing for Draken early on. His eyelids hang low, but his gaze is as intense as ever. Nothing is said between the two of you, but you can't help staring at his pursed lips, now bitten red from his habit when focusing. You internally proclaimed your love for him yet again, unable to stop yourself from wandering over to his hunched form.

Just as he looks up from the sewing machine, you dive in with a kiss that, even you had to admit, is a little too intense to be this sudden. Yet you couldn't help it; even the simplest things he did could turn you into quite the sap.

He doesn't fail to reciprocate it, though. His lips, a little rough and a bit wet, switch from caressing your top and bottom lip each time you return to each other. Somehow, it ended up with you sandwiched between him and his desk, thighs on either side of his hips. His hands never stay in one place, smoothing down your uniform and rubbing your back. He never strays too far down your waist, and that tang of frustration sours your sweet little moment yet again.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his jaw, you grind down hard against him. His mouth drops open in a barely contained moan, and you close your lips around his tongue. The noise he made when you licked at it could've put BL voice actors to shame. His fingers rake against the sides of your hips, jolting you out of your sultry scenario and into a bout of giggles. And while you sit there steaming in your embarrassment at ruining such a delicious moment, he simply gapes at what just happened, his face stained a pretty crimson.

Well, that was awkward...but you wouldn't have had it any other way.

[sukirichi]

— hands to myself (nanami kento x reader)

pov: you miss nanami too much that you can’t keep your hands to yourself

content/warnings: nsfw, voyeurism, masturbation, spanking, multiple orgasms, daddy kink, sugar daddy nanami, unedited fic

inspo: hands to myself by selena gomez

note: i can’t get sugar daddy nanami out of my head my brain goes brr brr PLEASE SEND ME THIRSTY ASKS ABOUT NANAMI 

@unabashednightmarepizza​ and @noritoshiikamo​ asdgjkl here we goooo i guess 

masterlist !

the penthouse felt so lonely without nanami.

he’s been working so hard, staying overtime and coming home just as you’re already buried in the sheets. nanami would slither in as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb the peaceful slumber of his baby girl, but what he doesn’t know is that you don’t mind waking up, just to see and feel him before he leaves for work again the next morning.

right before the sun rises, nanami’s already left. in your dazed state, you’re sure you felt him kissing your forehead before the doors close with a soft click, leaving you alone all over again.

you know he doesn’t mean it, you know he doesn’t want to leave you – but nanami is a hero and he has a duty to the people of this world to exorcise curses to bring a safer environment for everyone. truly, you admire him for this, sometimes a little too much that you might even fall in love with the rigid and stoic man who doesn’t smile.

still, you can’t help but to miss him.

ever since you became his baby girl, life has been easy. even though nanami wasn’t around all the time, he made it up by leaving his credit card to you, assuring you that you were free to get what you wanted. out of boredom, you’d go to the upstate and use his car to drive around the hills, arms heavy with shopping bags.

you’re not selfish, of course, you always make sure to bring him a little gift too. whether it came in the form of buying a new necktie for him – which he always wore to work proudly – or donning your body in lacy, white lingerie that has nanami losing control and worshipping your body until you’re screaming his name with a dried throat, you never forget to leave a little something for him.

sometimes you wish you could tell him you don’t really want the money. you’re thankful he’s more than generous to help you pay for college fees in return of you being his sweet baby girl, but you don’t need the Gucci or prada if he’s not going to be around.

you wanted nanami more than anything else, missed him more than anyone else.

your room feels so empty without him. his scent still lingers in your sheets because he’d rather sleep with you than stay in his own room, only using said room for showering and getting ready for work.

a lightbulb shines above your head. throwing your iphone to the side, you run to his room and open the cabinets one by one. nanami was as organized with his surroundings as he was with himself. his closet is an impressive collection of dark blue button-ups, nude slacks, and his iconic nude suit jacket. they’re all of the same brand and size, and you laugh because only nanami would buy the same thing over and over again.

at the end though, your gaze lands on a rare collection of white button ups, neckties neatly rolled and tucked at the glossy marbled drawers in front of the closet. already, you feel your heartbeat picking up as your hands touched the soft cotton material, nose slowly rubbing and burying into his shirt.

it even smells like him.

your movements are swift. previous shirt discarded on the floor, your arms loop inside the sleeves, tying up just until the undersides of your breasts before you pick out your favourite tie for him, a satin black one that always made him look delectable for dinner parties.

nanami rarely wore those, but when he did, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself. the last time he brought you with him for a birthday ball of his friend, nanami wore this exact black tie paired with the traditional fitted, three piece suit. you remember how needy you were for him that night, little fists clenched at his dress shirt and nanami lowly scolding you to behave.

but you were so desperate to touch him – how could you not when he was so damn irresistible – that he felt bad for his baby girl. long story short, you and nanami left early for the party, with your pussy bouncing up and down his thick pole while nanami glared at the limousine driver to keep his eyes on the road, large, calloused hands possessively gripping the flesh of your ass.

you missed him so much you might go crazy.

grabbing the nearest bottle of his perfume, you spritz it into the air, leaning forwards so that you’d get his scent all over you. it somehow felt as if you were coating yourself in his name, claiming and branding yourself as his even without him in the vicinity.

that’s how much you wanted him, and you don’t stop rubbing his perfume along the pads of your wrist until you can’t smell yourself anymore. your legs are accentuated by the black suede pumps you strutted around the penthouse with, lips tainted red from the wine he kept in his precious little cellar – which was also a spot in the house you both fucked at during that time nanami wanted to taste you on his lips.

he pushed you next to the glass borders then, spreading your legs open until you’re absolutely bare of him. the memory of nanami burying his warm tongue in you has you rubbing your thighs together, your black lace panties already damp with arousal.

you won’t touch yourself, though. that’s one of the rules nanami placed the moment he agreed to be your sugar daddy: you couldn’t, under any circumstance, touch yourself without his permission.

sighing, you trudged back to his bedroom again and sat your ass on his silver desk, legs swinging below you as you stared out into the night city.

nanami likes his room dark, that even though he’s got a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, he almost never opens it. only the bright light from the opened closet is what illuminates your silhouette as you watch the skyscrapers twinkle from afar, the people bustling on the streets looking like ants from this height. it was perfect – the night looked so beautiful and the ambience so romantic with soft, classical music playing from the AI speakers – but nanami isn’t here.

he wouldn’t come home early either. you could already tell how stressed he’d be because gojo satoru always makes him work overtime.

for now, you just had to enjoy your own presence, replacing nanami’s heat and love with his perfume and clothes. his shirt is absolutely baggy on you, the ends of it falling on top of your thighs. your breasts nearly swells out from the tight cups of your bra and the fat of your thighs clumped underneath the straps of your stockings.

you’ve sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. it sounds selfish, but you wished that nanami would come home early and pay attention to you. surely, gojo satoru would be more than fine handling the curses himself for just today.

unable to help it, your head fell back on the transparent glass windows of his room, fingers snaking under his shirt. instinctively, your legs opened, a breathy sigh falling from your glossy red lips as you slipped a finger in. it’s not as big or as thick as nanami’s, and your hands are way too soft compared to the scraping sensation his calloused fingers gave whenever he fingered your pretty little pussy.

it’s nothing compared to what nanami can make you feel, but it should be enough, for now.

your head falls back as your heel lands on his desk, nearly grazing the precious smooth top of his table. you have a feeling nanami is going to punish you once he sees the slight scrapes of your stiletto against it, but who cares? at this point, you’re willing to pull off the stupidest things just to get his attention, just to get him to fuck you.

“nanami,” you moan around the second finger, your other hand spreading your legs open. you’re so horny that you don’t bother taking your panties off anymore, the material flushed with the slick of your own arousal that it’s heavily damp. “daddy, i miss you,” eyes shut tight, you fondle with the sensitive nub of your clit, pumping yourself slowly as you imagine that it’s nanami making you feel good this time.

you know you’re being a bad girl, that you’re being an absolute brat. not only did you break the rule that you’re not allowed to touch yourself exactly after you convinced yourself you wouldn’t, but you’re leaking right at his desk, heels grazing into the smooth material.

if nanami were to see, he wouldn’t forgive you.

he would break you.

if it was a punishment, then why do you enjoy the idea of it? why are you so enticed, so excited, so eager to have your daddy use you like a fucktoy? your lashes flutter against your cheeks, hips bucking into your cupped palm as your belly begins to tighten. “b-break me, daddy, please, nanami-”

“what do you think you’re doing?”

you freeze.

tentatively, you crack an eye open, swallowing audibly when nanami stands at the edge of his door, his glasses already removed. now that his beautiful blue eyes aren’t obscured by anything, you’re met with the intense heat of his gaze, nearly burning like wild fire. you glance down at your fingers buried in your pussy and gulp, pulling them out with a loud shlick. you were so wet at just the thought of him, so stupid to even want to be punished, but now your spine freezes when nanami struts to your way.

his hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “i asked you a question,” his low, baritone voice has you clenching around nothing, throat tight out of nervousness. “i said, what do you think you’re doing?”

“i-i’m sorry, daddy,” you duck your head down, lips red and trembling. “i just missed you so much and i got so horny-”

“so you thought it was okay to touch yourself? even after i’ve made it clear i don’t want you doing that?”

“i’m so sorry-”

nanami doesn’t give you a chance to speak before his lips crash into yours, his tongue effortlessly slipping inside to swipe over your teeth. you gasp in his mouth when his large hands cup your ass and haul your weight off the desk, legs wrapped around his waist. nanami slaps it, making the flesh bounce and gripping it tightly with a firm squeeze. you’re pretty sure you’d turn completely red and marked by the end of this, but you don’t care, fuck, you don’t fucking care – nanami’s here and that’s all you care about.

you kiss him back just as eagerly, arms around his neck as he carries you like you weigh nothing. nanami groans when your teeth nibble on his lips, eager and needy hands unbuttoning his shirt. his hard pecs and abs greet you like a present you couldn’t wait to unwrap, and you’re both breathing hard by the time you pull away.

“are those my clothes?” he snaps the strap of your bra under his shirt, eyes narrowed over the way you look terrifyingly small in his shirt. you nod, breasts rising up and down, tempting him to reach over and squeeze it. your back arches at his touch, his ministrations missed and needed. no, you craved it. he’s been gone too long you’re not sure you could take it anymore, and you hiss when nanami buries his sharp nose in the juncture of your neck, the front of his pants damp and coated with your exposed wet cunt. “and you’re wearing my perfume too.”

“y-yes.”

“tell me, baby,” nanami sets you down on your feet. your legs are a little wobbly from the heels and with desire burning in your stomach. he steadies you by placing a hand under your armpit, and you lean forward to kiss him one more time. nanami tsks and shoves you backwards, cheek sliding across the glass. “why did you go to my room without my permission? why did you touch yourself when i told you not to? do you want to be punished?”

your cheek stings from the impact of your skin hitting the glass, but your mind is too clouded with lust you can’t really focus on his words. wiggling your ass to press against his erection, you beg for him, hands looking for the comfort of his skin.

nanami slaps your ass and hand away to shut you up, and you fall forwards with a muffled cry. “answer me when i ask you a question, baby girl. i’m not always going to be this nice.”

“daddy, i-i just missed you so much, i couldn’t help it.”

“you missed me?” you hear his belt unbuckling behind you, your ass perking up in excitement. fuck, you just wanted him to pound into you already. but nanami’s always too patient, always controlled in everything he does, that you’re laying there shaking with your pussy dripping for him. finally, fucking finally, you feel his cock enter you inch by delicious inch, and you moan at the same time nanami groans at burying himself deep within you. “my stupid silly baby can never keep her hands to herself, huh?”

“no, daddy, i want you too much, i just miss you so bad.”

“you do?” he teases, rolling his hips languidly. his pace is so slow and teasing that you’re whining for him to go faster, but nanami only shakes his head. before you could fathom the way nanami’s eyes darken, he leans forward, hitting deeper than he did before. your moans are so breathy that you start fogging up the glass, and nanami rubs your swollen clit before using his hands to squish your cheeks. he forces you to follow his gaze, voice low and almost growling. “if you miss daddy so much, then show it to them. show them how good i’m making you feel. come on, baby girl, i know you can do it. you’ll do it for me won’t you?”

realization dawns you the moment nanami pushes your body further in the glass, your breasts squished and flattened against the cool surface. “d-daddy,” you gasp, tightening around him once you see that the overtime workers from the office parallel to his penthouse are now witnessing the way nanami rams his cock into you like a wild animal. “they’re, ah, watching.”

“i know, baby, i know,” nanami loosens his necktie around your neck, snatching it and tying it around your wrists instead. “let these people know you’re mine – that you’re my baby girl and no one else’s okay?”

hands bound behind your back and nanami’s thick cock thrusting roughly into you, you’re unable to move or even think straight. you just nod mindlessly as nanami keeps fucking into you, hands gently pressing down your throat. his dick keeps rubbing against your most sensitive spots and you’re shaking underneath him, your arousal heightened when you saw several of the office workers have already pulled out their cocks and stroked it at the sight of you dripping onto nanami’s black marble floors.

nanami doesn’t stop praising on how much you’re a good girl for him. now that his cock is buried within you, he’s already forgotten that you’ve broken his precious rule.

you don’t complain, though. how could you when he has you screaming his name, your makeup and sweat leaving a figure the shape of body plastered on his glass walls? you’re sure his housekeeper is going to be so angry at the both of you for leaving cum stains everywhere, but you and nanami have forgotten all about it.

it seems he misses you just as much because nanami doesn’t stop fucking you until you’re full of his cum, breasts swollen and aching from being pressed into the wall for so long.

an hour passed – maybe two – you’ve lost count from the amount of times nanami has made you cum. your legs are giving out beneath you and your latest lingerie set is broken, comforted only by the promise that he’s going to get you good one. you’re absolutely lost in the pleasure of nanami driving his cock impossible deep into you all the way until morning, body spent and shaking from all the orgasms.

fucked out and whining, nanami litters kisses all over your body to soothe you a little bit, but he doesn’t stop. and the truth is, you don’t want him to, either. legs wrapped around his waist and heels digging into his ass, nanami finally tangles his hands into yours as he pistons his cock in and out of your squelching pussy.

he’s giving you his all, and you can’t keep your hands to yourself no matter how hard you’re trying to, not when nanami is prowling into you as you’re spread underneath him before he goes gentle, almost as if making love to you.

well, you could, but why would you want to?

[dienamights]

A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere​ ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

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The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you. 

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work. 

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,” 

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement. 

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible. 

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-” 

“How is your hero boyfriend?” 

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention. 

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change. 

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?” 

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior. 

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention. 

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful. 

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it. 

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him 

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time. 

He told me so. 

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.” 

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt. 

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.” 

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek. 

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it. 

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!