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sugoi-and-spice · 8 months ago

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Taking Care, Taking What's Mine - A "Play Nice" Commission

Summary: A Play Nice AU Chapter, in which, rather than taking the high road and trying to build a real relationship with the girl he's been sextorting for weeks, Tomura Shigaraki baby-traps her instead.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Dub-Con, Smut, Extortion, Baby-Trapping, Forced Pregnancy, Love-Bombing, Manipulation, Power Play, Possessive Shigaraki, Yandere Shigaraki, Morning Sickness, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

AO3 Link

A/N: Happy fucking Father's Day readers!! Lmao! I got this AMAZING commission a while ago to write an AU of my AU (a fanfic writer's dream come true honestly), of Shigaraki baby-trapping MC and well, while it took longer then I meant it to to come out, I'm so glad that I could post it on Father' Day of all days lmao.

Anyway though, this was so much fun to write. Shigaraki has been on the journey of bettering himself for so long in Play Nice now, it was a total blast returning to form and writing him nice and scummy again.

I'd love to do more of these honestly, so as a reminder: I give discounts on Commissions that take place in my AU's.

Play Nice, Burnt Bridges, Step by Step -- all of them. They're super fun for me to write and most of the heavy-lifting of ideating and plotting has already been done for them, so I'm happy to write fics like this for cheaper. :)

Anyway, enjoy some forced parentification on this day of dads. xD

“Hey, hey— are you alright?”

She lifted her head from where she’d been resting it against her gym locker, the coolness of the metal being the first thing to even remotely ease the headache she’d been fighting for the last three days.

“Yeah, of course,” she tried to force a weak smile as Nejire approached her, clearly concerned, “Why do you ask?

The captain was dressed in her practice suit. And she quickly realized that so were all the other girls, most of them already making their way out the doors to the pool deck. She was the lone straggler who hadn’t even managed to undo her uniform tie yet. Nejire looked over at these girls, and then back to her, wordlessly demonstrating why that should be obvious.

She laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head, “Okay, I guess I’m feeling a bit under the weather today…”

And that was the understatement of the century. She felt like absolute shit . Piling on top of that stubborn pounding in her head were a pair of really sore tits, a lethargy that stuck with her no matter how much vending machine coffee she chugged, and cramps that had shot straight out of hell and directly into her uterus.

But to be honest, she couldn’t complain too much about these ailments. In fact, she was pretty damn relieved. These were all her tell-tale signs of PMS. They were a little worse than usual this time around sure, but if that was the tradeoff for the relief of not being pregnant, she’d take it in a heartbeat. Her period was only one day late at this point and it had all but paralyzed her with fear.

Of course in retrospect, the fear did seem a bit silly. After all, Shigaraki’s creepy family doctor had warned her there might be some changes.

“I never start patients new to birth control immediately on a Long Acting Reversible Contraception,” he explained, “Especially not teenagers.”

“Why not?” she demanded, “It’s reversible, right? It’s not like you’re tying my tubes or anything.”

“No, but you never know how your body is going to react to the hormonal shift. You could develop acne, weight gain, hair growth—”

“I don’t care about that superficial stuff.”

“... Migraines, blood clots, depression,” he continued, looking at her pointedly.

She looked away, feeling a bit stupid for interrupting him now that he’d listed the more serious side-effects.

“I’m not saying you have to stay on the pill forever. But give it a few months, see how you feel on it. It can help us better determine which long-term birth control is best for your body without any unnecessarily invasive procedures.”

She shuddered at the very thought of being stuck in this set-up with Shigaraki for months. She hoped he’d get bored of her sooner rather than later.

Well, on the brightside, at least this sketchy-ass doctor seemed to be as interested in looking under her skirt as she was having him down there. However, this still left the ever so pertinent issue of:

“Okay, but there’s still the issue of getting the pills. No pharmacy is going to give me these without signed parental consent.” She had the always convenient Japanese purity culture to thank for that.

Ujiko simply smiled and pulled out a wheel of birth control pills from his medical bag right then and there.

“Consider these the same as this appointment,” he said, cupping his hands over hers and placing the wheel firmly into her palm, “ Off the record. ”

And then the rest of the “appointment” had descended into one of extremely thinly-veiled intimidation that bizarrely enough, she’d relied on Shigaraki of all people to save her from. By that point, she’d been scared so shitless she had very little argument left in her to try and reason him into just giving her the damn IUD.

The regret of not standing her ground on the issue did hit her later that night on the train home. Particularly when she thought over the fact that the way they were keeping these pills off the record was by having her pick up her refills through Shigaraki. The idea of giving him even more power over her like that made her feel sick to her stomach. And yes, while logically she knew that he had just as much motivation to keep her from getting pregnant as she did (she had a feeling All for One would not take too kindly to his star successor knocking up a lowly commoner such as herself), she still just had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

So she’d resolved herself on her first refill day to completely lay into Shigaraki for any level of tomfoolery he may get up to in this situation. There would be no forgetting, no being too busy to pick up the pills for her, absolutely nothing. She was ready to rain full fire and brimstone on him if there was even a hint of bullshit.

But to her surprise (and relief), she hadn’t even crossed the threshold of his bedroom before he was tossing a new pack to replace her wheel with. Simple and nonchalant, and then he was just as quick as always to badger her about getting her clothes off already, get on the bed already, break up with your boyfriend already.

It was the same old, same old — for better or for worse. Even if she couldn’t trust Tomura Shigaraki himself, that action had at least ensured that she could trust his own desire for self-preservation.

And that was better than nothing she supposed.

Back in the locker room, Nejire asked her, “Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

She smiled at her friend, joking, “Nothing I don’t come down with every month.”

Nejire tilted her head in confusion for a moment before the lightbulb visibly lit up in her head.

“Ohhhhh,” Nejire nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, Aunt Flow can be a real meanie sometimes, huh?”

She laughed, then winced as the action worsened the throbbing in her head, “Damn it— you can say that again.”

Nejire’s brows furrowed and she brought a hand to the small of her friend’s back, “Hey, why don’t you take this afternoon off?”

She looked back to her, surprised, “Oh no, I couldn’t…”

“Sure you could!” Nejire chirped, “And honestly, you probably should. We’re working on our weakest strokes today. I had you down to work on your fly.”

Visible dread filled her as she thought about doing that much undulation in her current state.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Nejire laughed, “Seriously, go home. We’ll miss you, but we love you too. So we want you to take care of yourself.”

She debated a little more internally, one other loose thread dropping into her mind’s eye.

“If I do… Do you mind—”

“I’ll let Mirio know,” she shot her a wink as she clarified, “ After practice. I’ll let him know you just need the peace and quiet.”

She smiled at Nejire, genuinely grateful. This. This right here was what made all of the bending over backwards she did to fit in and please others worth it. To be cared about by such a good person.

The warmth of that care stayed with her all the way out to the school gates, where she was then immediately filled with dread upon realizing that she’d need to go in one of two directions depending on where she was going after school: the train station home, or the walk to Shigaraki’s.

And just which direction she was scheduled to go today.

She let out a long groan, anguished and loud enough to startle a couple members of the going home club that passed her. For once though, she didn’t care about her reputation, she was too focussed on what a goddamn nightmare she was falling into.

She pulled out her cellphone with a sigh. Yes she knew the effort was probably futile, but damn her if she didn’t at least try.

Yup. She could’ve seen that coming from a mile away. She sighed as she shoved her phone back into her bag and started the very slow trek over to Shigaraki’s.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Shigaraki said as he looked her over his doorway, “You look like shit.”

She shot him a wholly unimpressed look as she shoved past him into his bedroom.

“Yeah, I fucking told you.”

Shigaraki, surprisingly, didn't have anything to say about her tone, even with her brusqueness towards him being more than usual. He just watched her drop down face first onto his bed and curl her legs up into her chest.

She sighed at the slight relief the position gave her. While dealing with Shigaraki’s antics was about the last thing she wanted right now, she supposed that at least she could be grateful for how much closer his apartment was to her school then her own home was. It saved her a good fifty-minutes of white-knuckling a train stanchion to keep down her groans of pain. Now at least she could get the relief of laying down much sooner.

If only for a little bit.

“What’s going on?”

She bristled at Shigaraki’s voice, the unwelcome reminder that she wasn’t going to be able to truly relax right now. And while there didn’t seem to be any entendre or even impatience in his question, the fact that his voice was getting closer to her was enough to make her suspicious.

“My head aches, my back aches, my boobs ache — everything aches,” she grumbled down into his sheets, “And I feel like I’ve been donkey-kicked straight in the uterus.”

“You start your period or something?”

He didn’t sound sarcastic when he asked it, not that typical boy way of asking any time a girl did something they considered “moody”. It was a genuine question. But it irritated her all the same.

Everything seemed to be irritating her these days.

“About to,” she answered, “It’s like a day late, but it’s definitely coming.”

She felt the bed shift a bit as he sat next to her.

“Are you nauseous at all?”

Her brows furrowed, a bit confused by the interest.

“I guess a little,” she answered, because even though it was mild, there was a certain turn in her stomach that wasn’t unlike motion sickness, “But honestly, I think it’s just from the pain. This has been going on for like three days.”

“Have you taken anything for it?”

She could’ve laughed if she wasn’t so annoyed by the reminder of all her futile attempts to alleviate this. Because of course he was looking for a quick fix so they could fuck already.

“I’ve taken everything for it,” she groaned, “Nothing’s working.”

He just hummed in response, and then she could feel the sheets behind her dip a bit as he repositioned himself. Into what orientation, she wasn’t sure. She was about to turn her head back and ask him what he was doing when she felt his hand featherlight across her hip.

And between her legs.

“No, Shigaraki please,” she whined, pulling he knees closer into her chest, “I’m not kidding, I’m seriously in a lot of pain—”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Tell that to your hand then,” she snapped as his fingers tried to wiggle their way between her clenched thighs.

“I mean I’m not doing anything for me. This is for you.”

“Oh is it now,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he insisted, more irritably this time, “Orgasms help with cramps, right?”

She stilled, sufficiently stumped by that particular statement. Because yes, she could say from experience that they absolutely did. She’d spent many a nasty period with her fingers latched to clit to chase that particular path of relief.

…but why the hell did Shigaraki know that?

She gasped as she suddenly felt the gentle roll of her clit under three fingers. Apparently, in her moments of distracted deliberation, Shigaraki managed to push his hand past the plush lock of her thighs and under the hem of her panties.

“Sh-Shigaraki…” she whined, pushing her elbow blindly and weakly back towards him.

He caught it gently in his free palm and, rather than trying to pin or strain it in whatever which way he desired, like usual, he just held it there. Didn’t even hold it in place really, just shielded himself against its determined path towards his ribs.

“I’m serious,” he said, uncharacteristically soft, “I’m trying to help you.”

She finally mustered up the strength to — despite how much her aching abdomen hated her for it — turn and glower at Shigaraki.

“No funny business?” she pressed.

He settled his own flat expression on her, “When have I ever been funny?”

More times than she’d like to admit honestly, but she got what he was saying here. He was a pretty serious, straightforward person on principle. He didn’t bullshit, he didn’t pull cheap tricks, and, shockingly enough, he didn’t typically lie. Frustrating as it was, Tomura Shigaraki was pretty much always unapologetically himself and he always did what he wanted.

So if he said that he was doing this to help her, then she supposed that she didn't actually have a lot of reason to distrust him.

Plus, his fingers hadn’t stopped their soft, but affective ministrations between her legs, and the pleasant sparks of heated relief they were sending through her were undeniable.

She turned back onto her side with a sigh that was half-exasperation, half pleasure.

“Fine,” she said, throwing back quickly before he got too victorious, “But fuck around and I’ll kick you.”

Shigaraki just chuckled, a soft throaty sound that shouldn’t have sent the chills up her spine that it did, “Yeah, yeah…”

In one motion, careful not to jostle her too much, Shigaraki both pulled her back and scooched himself closer, until her back was nestled snug against his surprisingly firm chest and her head laid in the crux of his bicep.

With this new closeness he was able to be a bit more deliberate with the angle and pressure he used to rub at her swollen sex. And, while she hated to admit it, the increased blood flow between her legs was causing the pressure within her to build quite a bit faster than usual. Enough so that it had her letting go of the tension in her neck and joints — the automatic stress reaction she had to any of Shigaraki’s displays of intimacy — and letting the weight of her head drop fully into his embrace.

A shuddering sigh left Shigaraki at that clear relinquishing of control, of the way she truly let herself lay back and relax into him. It gave him the encouragement he needed to enjoy her to the fullest extent that he wanted her as well, burying his nose deep into her hair.

He started to stroke wider circles around her, the flats of his fingers never leaving her clit, but now allowing the tips to dip softly into her entrance. He didn’t push them in at all past his first knuckles, just enough to catch some of that growing wetness and spread it all across her fluttering lips.

“A-Ah—” she gasped out, “Sh-shit…”

“Like that?” he rasped, hot against her ear.

She bit her lip, nodding needily, “Mm— Mm-hmm…”

He groaned at the response, doubling down on that motion as he started to stud long, hot kisses down the back of her jaw and neck. The feeling, so gentle and intimate and good in combination to the way he worked her sex, had her unconsciously rocking her hips into his touch, and back into his own.

Vaguely through the haze, she could feel the familiar outline of his stiff cock against the cleft of her ass, but shockingly he didn’t try to grind it against her for relief. If anything actually, when her own hips moved unconsciously back against it, he actually shifted his own hips away, anglind them down so his erection pushed into the bed instead. As if he didn’t want her to feel it, that he was concerned about her feeling pressured by its presence.

She didn’t have the chance to think too much into that though, not when his fingers were coaxing her closer to the edge by the second. The mess between her legs was obscene at this point, through teary eyes she could see the overflow of it spreading wide across her thighs and pooling down in the sheets.

“God look at you, so fucking wet,” he groaned, lips having made it down to her shoulder and staying there so that he could have a better view of her writhing under his touch, “You needed this, huh? Fucking needed me…”

She buried her face into his arm to muffle her moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but also not wanting him to stop.

By some act of God, Shigaraki didn’t push for that answer either. She wasn’t sure why he’d abandoned his typical demands and taunts, didn’t threaten to stop until she gave him the verbal submission and begrudging praise he always wanted. Nor did she stop to think about why, she just let the gratitude course through her, spurred further and wider by the waves of heat rushing through her body, threatening — promising — to overflow.

Shigaraki could feel that axiomatic tension in her body, the boiling point it promised, and sped up his hand to stoke the flames.

“You’re close aren’t you? Oh yeah, you’re close…” his kisses turned to nips at her neck between progressively more demanding growls, “Gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

Fuck, hearing those last words spill from his mouth should not have done what it was doing to her. But it was speeding up her peak, and it was speeding it up audibly.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good, really good. Let it go. Go ahead, be a good girl and let it go.”

She cried out, her arching back forcing her face forward and mouth unmuffled as finally, finally her body went blissfully loose, the pain of the past few days overtaken by waves of heat and pleasure. One after the other, her hormone-driven sensitivity wrung out multiple orgasms, and his frantic fingers were happy to work her through each one until she was begging him to stop.

“Good girl, yeah, yeah, just like that. That’s a good girl,” he continued to praise, returning time and again to that phrase he could feel her getting unconsciously excited over, “That’s my good girl…”

It was just a few blurry moments of consciousness after that. She was pretty sure she whined something like “too much” to him at some point, and he whispered back something that she was sure was just utterly debauched right back. Or maybe it was sweet nothings, he had really favored those by the end of this escapade after all.

Whatever it all was, she supposed it didn’t matter. All that mattered in those seconds of labored breaths and fluttering lashes was the beautiful bliss and relief that finally overtook her body. That allowed her to immediately fall asleep in his arms.

Shigaraki held her there for a long time after. He raked his eyes greedily across her body, letting himself carve every detail deep into his memory. He knew he didn’t need to, not anymore. Her boyfriend, her parents, hell, whether or not she got into Todai with him, it was all a non-issue now. There was no reason for him to lose this anymore. She wasn’t going anywhere in life without him. He was going to be able to revel in this sight for the rest of his life now. And he just couldn’t believe how lucky he was for that.

He chuckled a bit at that. Well, maybe lucky wasn’t the right word. This was all by design after all, weeks of very deliberate planning and deception. It was just like he’d always been taught. It didn’t matter what hand you’ve been dealt — and Tomura Shigaraki had certainly been dealt a shit hand in a lot of ways — a real winner made his own luck.

Sensei would be mad, Shigaraki knew that much. Everyone would be mad in fact, but he didn’t care. He was just following the fundamental lesson Sensei himself had instilled in him the day they met.

Take whatever you want, and fuck all the rest.

Several minutes into hearing those sweet deep breaths of unconsciousness from the beautiful girl in his arms, Shigaraki finally peeled his fingers away from her cunt.

And slid a wide hand up to cradle her tummy.

It was dark when she woke up, not a single one of Shigaraki’s many monitors or television lit the windowless room. That was odd for a couple of reasons, the first of which being that the overhead lighting had definitely been on when she’d dozed off. The second of which was that any time Shigaraki wasn’t preoccupied with helping her study or studying her, he was chronically attached to at least one screen, if not multiple, so it was more than a bit odd for him to have zero on. The reason for the lack of blue light however became quickly apparent as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

Shigaraki wasn’t here.

She was totally alone in his room, alone and tucked into his bed. Had he gone to the bathroom or something? But then why would all the lights be off? It seemed like he’d probably been gone for a while. Weird…

She threw off the covers and flipped her legs around with much more ease than she’d done anything over the last three days, much to her relief. However long she’d been out, the sleep had clearly done her some good. The pounding in her head and pelvis had finally ceased, perhaps just in time for her to actually start her period. She did feel some dampness between her legs after all. Although…

Her face heated up as she remembered the much more likely cause of that.

Damn it, she thought with a groan, dropping her head into her hands. She couldn’t believe that she actually let him do that to her, for her. He was going to get entirely the wrong idea from it. The idea that she might actually like him and want to spend time with him, that there was some kind of connection between them that extended past the time she was required to spend with him to keep him satisfied. And she absolutely could not deal with that.

Being his little sex toy was one thing. A demoralizing thing, yes, but a manageable one. She’d seen the way Shigaraki treated things he objectified — games and magazines and the like. He got bored of them quickly. And if she was one of those things in his eyes, then eventually he’d get bored with her too and she’d be free.

If he was attached to her though? Had found connection in her and a desire to keep her in his life? She didn’t even want to consider that nightmare scenario.

She made her way out into the hallway, looking up and down from the empty bathroom on one end of the hall to the top of the staircase on the other. She didn’t have to contemplate the lack of presence on this floor for long though, when she heard Shigaraki’s voice echoing up from downstairs, talking emphatically to Kurogiri, she assumed.

She couldn’t hear exactly what he was talking about, but whatever it was, he was being particular about it. “Don’t overcook” and “perfect” were a few of the words she managed to catch, so it was about food, maybe? The accompanying sounds of sizzling pans and clanking cookware would certainly support that. As would the smell that suddenly hit her.

It wasn’t an unpleasant smell by any means. In fact, it was salmon, one of her favorites. But for some reason at that moment, the smell hit her with a particular intensity that made her feel overwhelmed.

And really fucking nauseous.

She just barely made it to the toilet at the end of the hall, not even fully down to her knees by the time she was emptying her stomach into the bowl. It wasn’t just a brief moment of sickness either. The bouts were loud and long, she was sure that it echoed throughout the entire apartment. It left her red-faced, skin covered and hair clumped with sweat, not to mention still gagging long after she had nothing left to gag on.

A hand she barely even noticed came to rest on the small of her back in the midst of it all. It was only in the aftermath, spent and dry-heaving that she could process the fact that it was Shigaraki, kneeling at her side, patiently stroking small circles into her clammy skin and encouraging her softly.

“Let it out. Just let it all out.”

She groaned once she finally seemed to have a solid thirty seconds of dry, steady breath. And Shigaraki used that respite to nudge a glass of water into her hands.

“Here.”

She didn’t argue or agree, just took it from him with shaky hands, tossing half of it just into her mouth to swish around and spit the remaining bitterness from her tongue.

“Drink some of it too.”

She nodded shakily, still too drained and disoriented to be irritated with his telling her what to do, or suspicious of the fact that he was being so nice.

And still, as she took entirely too long to finish the rest of her water with timid little sips, he just knelt on the ground with her, moving the hand on her back to rest on her knee, thumb rubbing circles into the spot where a bruise would undoubtedly form.

Finally, after a long, silent stretch, she managed to croak out, “W-What time is it?”

“Only seven,” he answered, “Kurogiri’s got dinner almost ready downstairs. Seared salmon, brown rice, avocado salad—”

She whined, shaking her head roughly at the very implication of food.

“Don’t like salmon?”

“I-I do… It’s just—” she gagged a little as she remembered that smell that had set this all off in the first place, “Th-The smell right now. It’s too much…”

“Oh yeah…” he nodded understandingly, muttering something to himself that she couldn’t quite make out. It sounded kind of like, “Heightened” and “Read about that…”

Her brows furrowed a bit, frustrated and confused. She was getting the feeling that he was really not telling her something.

“W-What?”

Shigaraki just waved her off, “No, that’s fine, that’s fine. Salmon’s not the only thing he made. There’s sauteed spinach, wakame tofu soup, toasted—”

Jesus Christ, was Kurogiri cooking for an army down there or something?

Well, whoever it was all for, and as delicious as it all sounded in theory, imagining those foods in practice right now was making her feel sick all over again.

“Mm-mm, Mm-mm!” she whined, shaking her head again.

She didn’t want to risk opening her mouth right now, lest she blow chunks all over the front of Shigaraki’s shirt. Although wouldn’t that be a nice little serving of karma for him…

“You need to eat something,” he insisted, more lecturey than she’d ever heard him, but with a strange gentleness to his voice as well, “And you need to drink some more too. You’re totally dehydrated.”

She shook her head more emphatically at that, which only resulted in her falling forward into his chest.

He caught her before she could fall any further, scolding her not too harshly, in fact, a bit whimsically, “Is this how you’re gonna be the whole time?”

She pulled her head back to look at him, a confused furrow in her brows that brought the corners of his lips up.

“It’s not a bad look on you to be honest. All weak and petulant,” he brought a hand to pinch lightly at her cheek, “It’s kinda cute actually.”

Her eyes narrowed, finally feeling her stomach steady enough in her to be annoyed. He chuckled, just as amused and endeared by this look as the last.

“Well how about okayu?” he offered with a patronizing little lilt, “And maybe some ginger tea?”

He clearly wasn’t going to let this go. And infuriatingly, he was right not to. She definitely was in no shape to go home on this empty stomach.

She sighed.

“Yeah… Yeah okay.”

Going at her own shaking, snailish pace, Shigaraki helped her up onto her legs, pulling her immediately into his side as he led her back towards his bedroom. Normally she’d protest, stick an elbow right into his ribs and storm on ahead of him, but honestly she needed the help right now. So she sucked it up and let him lead her back into his bed.

But that didn’t stop her from eying him suspiciously as he propped his pillows up behind her and tucked her back in under his comforter, the overall way he doted and fretted over her, even stopping to look back at her one more time from the doorway before he returned downstairs to give Kurogiri the new marching orders.

She dropped her head back against the pillows when finally alone, a bad feeling settling heavier and heavier in her stomach. This was beyond weird, the way he was acting. Sure, the guy was overbearing and constantly demanding of her attention, stupidly needy even. But doting? Not only willing but eager to put her needs ahead of his own? Caring deeply about her actual well-being and not just what he wanted to be her well-being? This was all way too out of character for him.

“…You can tell me. If he bothered you, I mean. N-Not just the Doctor either… If um… If anything’s bothering you.”

She sighed at the memory. Alright, maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. He’d shown at least some capability and even interest in her wants and well-being, he wasn’t a complete monster.

But still, all of this? The cooing and the caring and the, erm, servicing even that he’d done? It felt like too much. Like she was missing something really key about it all.

Like something was wrong .

Whether she ended up getting lost in that train of thought for long, or Kurogiri had already had some okayu whipped up downstairs, she wasn’t sure, but she was startled by how quickly it seemed that Shigaraki returned with a breakfast tray in hand. She cocked her head as he set it up over her lap, this was a lot more robust than she was expecting, and, she realized as she examined everything on the tray, a lot more stocked as well.

There was okayu, front and center for her, yes. But also on the tray was another small bowl of soup (looked like the wakame that Shigaraki had mentioned, a thing of plain yogurt (the really fancy kind that came in the glass jars), a glass of orange juice…

And a little dish of four pills.

Painkillers or antiemetics maybe? They looked more like vitamins…

“Go ahead and start with the okayu if you want,” Shigaraki explained as he climbed up into the bed next to her, “But I want you to try and get some of the wakame and yogurt down too…”

As he settled down, his legs flush with her own, he continued to rattle off instructions and explanations for the rest of her tray, sending her mind completely spinning, faster and faster, like a goddamn Gravitron.

And she was ready to get the fuck off.

“...if nothing else though, take the vitamins. You need the folate, calcium, iron, and the omega-3 especially, since you don’t want the salmon—”

“Okay, stop, stop, stop !”

Shigaraki paused, having the audacity to look at her like she was crazy for snapping.

“Jesus—what the hell are you even talking about Shigaraki?!” she demanded, “What’d you say, folate? What? What is all this?”

He cocked his head, clearly playing innocent. Whatever this was, he was clearly enjoying the slow unraveling of it all.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” she snapped, “All this attention and doting and food stuff! What the hell is this all about?!”

He just smiled back at her, taking in how pretty she looked, even when mad (especially when mad sometimes), God, to think that this really was his forever now. He wondered if they had a girl, how much she’d look like her. He hoped a lot…

“I just want to make sure you’re getting all the vitamins and nutrients you need…”

He reached over then, spreading his hand flat against her stomach.

“ Both of you .”

She froze.

No.

No, he couldn’t mean—

She tried to speak, tried to ask what the ever-loving- fuck he was talking about, but her mouth had seemed to go dry. She tried several times to open and wet it a bit, but every time she did, it felt like her throat was closing too. It took at least four desperate attempts for her to finally force out one rasped:

“... what? ”

Shigaraki’s grin widened, and he started to rub circles gently across her belly.

“You’re gonna look so cute, all big and round with my kid,” he giggled suddenly as he remembered something, “Oh, and your tits too. I wonder how big they’re gonna get…”

She stared at him, unblinking, unbreathing. Everything but un-fucking-existing.

He couldn’t be serious. He was fucking with her. He had to be fucking with her!

“Th-That’s not funny.”

His grin evened a little, not disappearing outright, but settling away some of its blissful excitement into something more coyly victorious.

“I said it already,” he reminded, “When have I ever been funny?”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“N-No. No, no, no this isn’t— there’s no way—”

“I’ve got the tests ready when you need to pee, but I think it’s pretty clear. These are all the symptoms I read about.”

“No!” she insisted, “N-No, no— this is, it’s my period! It’s just a day late, it’s not—!”

He chuckled, “I know the symptoms can be similar, but come on. When’s the last time you’ve hurled like that thanks to your period? And the sensitivity to smell? You know this is different.”

Crumbling, every argument she could possibly think of was crumbling to dust before she could even get the thought fully formed. And cruel, vicious reality was more than happy to take its place.

“B-But my birth control pills…”

“Fertility pills,” he explained, his splitting-grin returning in full, “I would’ve preferred to get Clomid from the doctor, but it looks like the over the counter stuff and tracking your cycle worked just fine.”

Her stomach dropped. Pieces of memories, peculiar behaviors and nagging thoughts she’d had over the last two months falling into place. How there were stretches of times where he’d cancel their sessions, only to insist they make them up a few specific days in a row. How he wanted to go multiple rounds a lot those days. How he’d stopped wanting blowjobs from her entirely. How he seemed to only want to fuck her from behind or with her knees pressed hard into her chest, positions he could fuck her the deepest in.

And how he’d have her stay still with his cock buried in her after he came.

Back then, she just thought he was being weird and pervy. And in a way she was right.

Horribly fucking right.

Shigaraki shifted his legs away from her so that he could bring his head down to her lap, laying his cheek blissfully against her belly.

“Was so easy,” he hummed against her skin, “Like your body was just waiting for me to knock you up. Waiting for me to make you mine…”

His hands moved across her body, one coiling behind her back so that he could pull her tighter into him, the other lacing his fingers through her own. The fingers on her trembling left hand.

“Both of you, forever,” he growled happily, a predator who had finally and definitively sunk his teeth into his prey, “All mine.”

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txttletale · 21 days ago

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So I've seen you recommend bavitz, where do I actually start with their stuff? I've clicked on a couple summaries and It appears to be fanfiction and I'm wondering how much context of the original work I need.

i personally think bavitz' original stuff is their best: if i was going to recommend a "starting point", i'd say cleveland quixotic is the most accessible--it plays a lot with the isekai genre, but i'm not at all familiar with the genre and i felt like i wasn't missing too much. it is, if more literary and well-written than most, in many ways a fairly traditional fantasy novel.

modern cannibals, despite being listed as such, is not really homestuck fanfiction -- it is a coming of age roadtrip story about some kids driving to a con because one of them is a homestuck fan. having read homestuck will lend some depth to it, illuminate some allusions and make apparent some of the narrative tricks it plays, but i think it's perfectly comprehendible and enjoyable without any knowledge of homestuck at all, as a meditation on art and artists.

cockatiel x chameleon digs fairly deep into online subcultures and drama as well as art history but should be totally comprehendible on its own terms if you're not familiar with any of that. probably a terrible starting point though because of the large amounts of narratively loadbearing extremely explicit pornography.

as for the actual fanfiction, i think when i win the world ends should parse perfectly well for someone with a typical level of cultural osmosis awareness of the pokemon franchise. my sum total experience with pokemon is a few hazy childhood memories of the latam anime dub, playing black, liking it, playing y, disliking it, then only hearing about it second hand. so baseline familiarity with the concepts is necessary, but not much more than you'll probably have gotten just by existing online under a certain age.

fargo and chicago, though, absolutely need you to have watched madoka and rebellion, or the final stakes of either will be totally incomprehensible.

#ask

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wandagcre · 1 year ago

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What about Sam having a hyper energy golden retriever gf??

sam with a hyper golden retriever girlfriend

(gif not mine, credits to who owns them)

OH BOY. you weren't only a sunshine for sam but fueled with an unmatched high energy, you were basically a deadly combination for her

deadly in a way where sam sometimes can't keep up with you BUT tries hard to do so because she absolutely adores how you light up the room! she refuses to make you uncomfortable or ashamed in any way <3

it's like, she's sleepy? but you're still rambling and tugging on her arm? NOT ANYMORE. you can see sam fighting it off and you give a hearty chuckle because she's reaaally close to dozing off she looks so silly you can barely see her pretty brown eyes anymore 🥺

seriously, sam can't remember the last time someone made her smile this MUCH. all of her facial muscles are working overtime whenever she's around you!! it's so infectious it warms her heart ;(

texts between you two are the funniest 😭

sam: Good Morning ☺️❤️

you: OH MY GOD

you: the absolute love of my freaking life.

you: my precious girlfriend. finally you have graced me with your existence. i could not be anymore glad about this thank you, thank you 🥰

sam: We have been dating for 2 years now? And I'm coming to your house later BTW

you: your point????

sam: Ha. I love you, silly goose :,) 💐

[also you: had been bombing her notifs over cute pictures and videos for the past hour and sam will check them religiously and react one by one on her free time, ASAP]

would kill (considers it in literal sense) if someone was responsible for your mood drop in an instant. sam is worried and already beside you to try and comfort you because?? who dares to disrupt your sunshine self?? it's equivalent to kicking a cute puppy for her!

keeps you away from energy or any caffeinated drinks 😭 besides that it was a death sentence given your nature, she'll insist how they're super unhealthy and you're shocked that sam's literally listing all of the cons of it - you're surprised why she is ranting about your kidneys and all? 😭

AND YOUR PUPPY EYES? no, sam will not cave in. (sam totally would) (she will end up doing a deal with you to balance things up)

in return, she'll check on your daily water intake because that's more replenishing for your body

LOVES YOUR BIG GESTURES. the way you talk with your limbs involved and all the sound effects, it's pleasing to her honestly sam has never seen someone look so endearing and highly entertaining of a storyteller as you are

you probably see the goodness in people and tries so hard to understand that and sam admires you so sooo much for that ;( literally, you're her angel

she probably has you saved on her contacts as "(y/n/n) ☀️🥰🐶"

and that trait of yours probably what made sam to be at ease with you. usually she's closed off but even with you knowing the truth about her life, how she had this grim upbringing, you just sat there soaking all the information up with attentive eyes and comforting touch on her hand

sam doesn't expect that it will lead to an eventual romantic relationship between you two or how your soothing presence has made her try her hardest to open up more and more to you!! ;(

and what she likes is that you match your words with actions. whether it's good or bad, she loves the transparency and honesty. it proves that you're not faking anything. sam thinks that's rare to have these days and you being like that? makes her love you so sooo much even more ;((

like literally, it's 3/4 core four + you on the top of her list oh my goddd

sam would be surprised at your bursts of energetic moments especially in public for the first time, sometimes even later on, but embarrassed? never! it's new to her and you're just there beaming and not caring about what others think. she thinks you're the cutest for that!! <333

#gg.answers #sam carpenter x reader #headcanons #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #scream vi #anon #request

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cosmerelists · 21 days ago

Text

If Cosmere Characters Starred in Procedural TV Shows...

In a development that is surely not at all indicative of my mental health, I have been watching a LOT of 2000s style "special-est guy" procedurals. You know, like Psych or White Collar or Bones...those shows where Some Guy with a Special Talent or Quirk helps the police (or FBI or whatever) solve crimes. So in this list, let's talk about the Cosmere version of those procedurals.

1. Psych: Starring Renarin & Rlain

In Psych, Shawn Spencer pretends that he is psychic to cover up the fact that he's just hyper-observant and wants to solve crimes. In the Cosmere-version of Psych it's...pretty much the opposite. Renarin must hide the fact that he actually can see the future, and so he pretends that he's solving crimes through totally natural and normal detective means when really he is having visions. Rlain is his best friend who is helping him in his capers and coverups.

2. Bones: Starring Jasnah and Dalinar

In Bones, Dr. Brennan's extensive knowledge of forensic anthropology allows her to help the FBI solve murders. In the Cosmere version, it would be Jasnah's historical knowledge that is somehow endlessly relevant in for Dalinar's crime solving. Think of him bringing her into his vision that one time to figure out what part of history they were in. It would be like that, 22 episodes a season.

3. Grimm: Starring Vin and TenSoon

In Grimm, Nick discovers that he has magical grimm powers and now he can see monsters and solve monster-related crimes. In later episodes of the show, this sadly devolves into him mostly killing monsters, but that's a gripe for another blog. Vin is also someone who woke up one day to realize that she had magic powers in her blood and that there was a whole world out there, and she also fights monsters. Or, in this version, solves crimes involving them. Also Nick's partner was Monroe, a blutbad (basically werewolf), and Vin also has a dog-coded sidekick, TenSoon.

4. Burn Notice: Starring Nomad, Hoid, and Rebeke

In Burn Notice, Michael Western is a former operative who gets "burned," meaning he's cut off from his spy agency and left to fend for himself. Instead, he uses his spy knowledge to...well, not solve crimes, actually, but at least solve problems. And yes, I use Nomad here in part because he's on a world where you have to run constantly from the sun to avoid being burned, so it's funny, but also because it fits. In this version, Nomad must use the skills and knowledge he developed in his past role as [spoilers redacted], alongside a slightly untrustworthy, Hawaiian-shirt wearing, not-played-by-Bruce-Campbell-in-this-version Hoid. Rebeke can be Fiona, although she's slightly less prone to explosions.

5. White Collar: Starring Shallan and Adolin

In White Collar, Neal Caffrey is a con artist turned FBI informant who goes undercover every episode to use his con artist knowledge to solve crimes for the FBI. In this version, Shallan uses her lightweaving to go undercover every episode to help Adolin, who I guess is in the Rosharan FBI, solve crimes. My wife complained that in this version there's no obvious OT3, so I guess Adolin is married to Kaladin or something to make it work.

6. Alternative White Collar: Starring Shai and Gaotona

I also like the idea of it being Shai who is Neal--since she is captured and then forced to use her powers to help the government, ala Neal on his work release program. Only in this case, Shai would somehow use her Forgery powers every week to solve crimes alongside her handler, who I guess is Gaotona in this version.

7. Lucifer: Starring Kelsier

In Lucifer, the title character is, well, the devil, who's moved to LA and also helps solves crimes (man, there's a lot of these shows!). And Kelsier is a guy who crawled up out of the Pits of Hell--I mean, Hathsin and, in this version, proceeds to go back to the city and solve crimes I guess! I'm not sure who should play the non-devil-believing detective, though--any ideas?

8. Lie to Me: Starring Eshonai and Venli

In Lie to Me, there's like...a lab, I think? That studies micro-expressions, which are things that people can't hide and which reveal the truth of what they're saying. I like the idea that there are, like, micro-rhythms that even humans can't control, and so Eshonai and Venli are able to work as investigators solving murders using their...micro-rhythm lab, I guess.

9. House: Starring Lirin

House is a Sherlock Holmes adaptation where Holmes is an asshole doctor with chronic pain and a drug problem who solves really complicated medical cases. Now, Lirin is nothing like House (aside from being a bit grumpy sometimes), but I still want the adaptation where he moves into Urithiru and then solves super complicated medical cases that the Radiant healers can't handle for some reason.

10. Dexter: Starring Lessie and Wax

In Dexter, the title character is a serial killer who works for the cops as a blood splatter analyst and spends his free time hunting down criminals so that he can murder them. And, well, Lessie is a serial killer who helps Wax solves crimes, so it's kinda the same thing! Only I guess the serial killing happening after the crime-solving in the real Cosmere timeline...so in this version we'd need to have Lessie get into serial killing early so she's doing it while also helping Wax solve crimes.

11. Castle: Starring Ellista

In Castle, a mystery novelist named Richard Castle helps the police department solve crimes. Now, Ellista is not a novelist. Nor does she even read mysteries. But I like the idea of her romance-novel knowledge somehow coming in clutch in a series of romance-novel-related crimes that only she can solve. Tell me you wouldn't watch that.

12. iZombie: Starring Raoden and Galladon

In iZombie, Liv is a well, zombie, who gets visions when she eats brains and uses that power to help solve murders. I know Raoden is not a brain-eating zombie, but I couldn't pass up our one zombie character. So this show would take place in Elantris, where Raoden and Galladon (who spend a lot more time there, as zombies) solve crimes.

13. Angel: Starring Painter

Angel is a Buffy spinoff where the vampire Angel moves to LA and broodingly solves monster crimes while brooding. Painter is not a vampire, but he does like to linger in the shadows and he does fight nightmares...and much like the titular Angel, he's way more of a dork than he'd like you to believe. There's even a body swapping episode in Angel!

14. Pushing Daisies: Starring Endowment, Vasher, and Vivenna

In Pushing Daisies, there's a piemaker who can bring back the dead with a touch--but only for a minute (or else someone else has to die). Ned uses this power to temporarily bring back murder victims to, you guessed it, solve crimes, alongside his childhood sweetheart Chuck and his detective partner Emerson. Now, there one character who can temporarily bring the dead back to life--but if they want it to be permanent they have to steal "life" from others. And that's Endowment. Imagine if she decided to use her Returned powers to solve crimes! Now cast Vasher as the grumpy detective and Vivenna as...Endowment's love interest? I think it works.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Stormlight Archive #Mistborn #yumi and the nightmare painter #Warbreaker #this post keeps getting moved forward in my queue but I'm scheduling it for my bday and NOT moving it because I like this one

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silentsneezes · 4 days ago

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Heyy me again… ahahah

Do you have any silco with allergies hc’s or maybe a k!nk Silco/Vander Zaundads fic?

Totally asking this with normal intentions, completely not obsessed or anything!

(Im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure i love your writing)

thank you anon!! trust me when i say i'm also gnawing at the bars of my enclosure... so here's almost 3k of sick v/ander and kink s/ilco

i'll probably continue this in the future, but between university and life things i haven't had as much time to write... so we'll see

anyways, this is set pre-everything in the show. you could read it as an au if you want!

The Last Drop on a Saturday is no fucking joke. Vander knows that full well, always double checking his list of opening tasks to ensure things run smoothly. Only a few hours after opening, the dimly lit, smoke-filled haven is already filled to its capacity. Earlier that day, there had been a boxing match held in a nearby arena, and it’s safe to say people are still riding that high. Vander picks up on arguments over bets that were won or lost, prideful drunkards boasting about how they’d been rooting for the champion all along.

The bar practically roars with the infectious excitement, only encouraged by the drinks the patrons continue to slam back. Vander doesn’t mind, he’s quite pleased with how popular his bar is, especially on nights where boxing matches occur. Everyone needs a good drink after a match, he supposes. Plus, the influx in business never hurts– people typically become more generous tippers the drunker they get.

Vander works mindlessly as he pours drink after drink, zoning out to the sounds of raucous laughter, the clink of glass against wood, and the quiet kshhhh of the keg. The conversations are nothing more than a full-on-chorus, which has its pros and cons.

On one hand, it allows Vander to zone out to the constant noise, letting himself work without second thought.

On the other hand, Vander feels like fucking shit. He’d been coming down with something the past couple of days, but he’d figured it wasn’t anything a few DayQuil couldn’t fix. Now, he’s beginning to realize that he was sorely mistaken in his initial dismissal of the cold. His usual charming grin doesn’t come as easily tonight, and when he wipes his brow, it’s not just due to the heat of the room. His skin is coated in a feverish sheen, his cheeks uncharacteristically flushed as he forces himself to work through his rising fever.

The frequenters of the bars notice– at least those sober enough to– but they’ve seen this before. Vander’s tough. He’s the kind of guy who keeps his bar open for better or for worse, so when he’s sick, they just give him a look of silent understanding: he’ll be fine, he always is.

As ‘fine’ as Vander might be, his movements are dulled by fever. He keeps moving, keeps working—filling mugs, passing shots, refilling drinks– functioning as if he’s on autopilot. His work is only interrupted as he hears the familiar drawl of his friend’s voice.

“Is anybody home?” Silco asks with a slight smirk, looking Vander up and down as he takes a seat on the barstool closest to the sick man, observing his absent expression. Vander opens his mouth to reply, pausing momentarily to clear his throat before gruffly responding, “very funny, Silco,” sarcastically. He starts making Silco’s drink wordlessly, knowing exactly what the other likes. Vander doesn’t bother filling the silence between the two of them, letting the steady roar of auditory input wash over him.

“Long day?” Silco questions, frowning as a nearby customer lets out a howl of laughter at his own joke, “I’ll bet you 20 gold coins he soils himself by the end of the night.”

Vander finds it somewhat amusing how Silco always seems to take issue with the other patrons of the bar, as if he finds himself somewhat above this crowd. “I’d be an idiot to take you up on that,” Vander says with a tired grin, his lips barely curling upwards as he leans in, resting his weight on the bartop. He places the drink in front of Silco with a heavy thud, the glass almost too solid in his grip, as if it’s an anchor to keep him from slipping under the noise and fatigue. “You know how they get after boxing matches.”

“Oh, do I,” Silco replies, the words clipped, his voice carrying an immense judgement of those customers who lack any semblance of manners or public decency. He doesn’t like them, doesn’t trust them, but he does like Vander.

Vander struggles to think up a response, his usual charm and banter replaced with a steady painful thrum threatening to become a migraine. The noise of the bar presses against his skull like a vice, and just as he finally manages to think up an adequate response, he feels it coming. A tickle in his nose, faint at first, but enough to make his breath catch as it buzzes through his sinuses.

At first he tries to fight it, swiping at his nose roughly with the backside of his hand. His other hand searches his pockets for a rag, a handkerchief, anything. Unfortunately for him, the sneeze builds quickly. His eyes are forced to scrunch shut as his chest swells with an urgent, “hhHHHH-” and for a half-second, everything around him goes blurry, the pressure in his sinuses making his head swim, “hHHRRZZSCHHH’HUw!!”

Vander turns away from the bartop just in time, snapping forwards into his elbow with a resounding sneeze, one that grates his throat enough as to where he has to blink away a few tears. Silco watches with rapt attention, his abdomen pooling with hot attraction as he observes Vander’s broad frame nearly bend itself in two with the force of the sneeze.

“Bless you,” Silco purrs, his voice low and sultry. The blessing practically rolls off of his tongue, and yet Vander knows it’s not just out of politeness. You see, Silco doesn’t just bless anyone. For him, offering a blessing is somewhat of a privilege, something one earns through continuous affection, and he and Vander are nothing if not affectionate.

“I’ve got the whole damn package today—head full of cement and a nose that thinks it’s spring,” Vander mutters, barely able to keep the irritation out of his voice. Had he not known about Silco’s kink, he would’ve been entirely fed up with his body's need to sneeze. Except there’s a sliver of him that can’t help but relish the fact that he can make Silco squirm so easily. If he has to feel so utterly miserable, someone might as well enjoy it, right?

And he is miserable, nothing short of it. Silco, however, seems to be basking in Vander’s sickness, finding it difficult to resist the sight of his friend turned fuck-buddy turned… whatever it is they are now.

“Why is it you insist on working when you’re sick?” Silco questions, knowing full-well the stubborn answer he’s about to receive– it’s the same every time.

Except Vander doesn’t answer, letting Silco’s question hang in the air as he raises a hand to his nose. It’s back again, that bothersome, tantalizing itch that’s been wreaking havoc on his nose all night, “hhHHH’uh-”

At the sound of Vander’s hitch, Silco prepares himself for the imminent sneeze. Vander has never been one to have dramatic build ups when he’s sick– though allergies are an entirely different feat– rather, his sneezes come on quickly with one to two hitches beforehand.

Unable to find a rag in time, Vander settles for cupping a broad hand over his nose and mouth, “hHHMMPH’DSSXCHHhew!” The sneeze is barely muffled against his palm, and Vander can feel moisture threatening to slip through his fingers. He pinches his nose between his thumb and his forefinger, gathering the residual mess and moving to wash his hands.

When Vander returns to the bartop, he sees Silco, his gaze intensely focused, waiting with that unsettling calm, as if he could pounce at any moment. Had the countertop not been separating them, Vander is certain Silco would be draping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. And god does he want that.

Just as Vander moves to prop himself against the bartop again, he hears a drunken, “Oi! Vander!” and groans internally, straightening up and snapping out of his exhausted haze. The woman, a regular frequenter of the bar, leans against the other side of the counter with a casual air, “Get me something strong, but nice. I’ve got a lady to impress,” she says with a smirk. Usually, Vander would have the energy to engage in some sort of playful banter, perhaps asking the customer as to who she’s pursuing tonight. Instead, he rattles off a few drink options, giving her a sideways glance as she chooses the strongest of the drinks he’d proposed, “You sure? It’s got one hell of a kick.”

The customer dismisses his warning with a wave of her hand and a chuckle, “I’m feeling lucky today.”

“Liquid luck,” Silco tuts almost inaudibly from his seat, though it goes unheard by anyone aside from Vander, “what a foolish concept.”

Vander’s lips curl into a slight smirk at the sound of Silco’s words, but he forces himself to maintain focus. He has a job to do. With a sigh, Vander grabs a glass, still feeling the steady ache that only a cold can instill. As he’s about to start mixing, he feels that nagging sensation in his nose return, the familiar tickle building once again. He grimaces, trying to hold it back for the sake of not sneezing into a customer's drink, but his body has a different plan. His breath hitches involuntarily, forcing him to pivot away from the countertop without even setting the glass down first. He draws in a final, urgent breath before snapping forwards and spraying the tiled floor with an uncovered, “hHHRRRSSXCHHHh’eHw!”

As the sneeze fades, Vander stays still for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, his body still catching up with the sudden burst of pressure. He forces himself to stand upright, tending to the moisture clinging to his septum with his sleeve. He’d usually have a bit more decorum when it comes to covering and utilizing his sleeve as a tissue, for the sake of germs moreso than any feeling of embarrassment, but he’s too fucking tired tonight.

“Salud,” the woman blesses absentmindedly, watching as Vander composes himself enough to make her drink, “you look sick as a dog,” she comments. Vander just continues mixing the drink, replying with a halfhearted, “that’s never stopped me before.”

“Touche.” Luckily, the woman leaves the conversation at that, exchanging the drink for a few gold pieces and making her way across the bar back to the person she’s trying to impress.

“She’s right, you look terrible,” Silco says matter-of-factly, drawing Vander’s attention back to him. His fingers trail along the rim of his now empty glass, his expression smug as he receives an eye-roll in response.

Vander doesn’t have time to reply as another customer approaches the bar, and he internally curses as he turns away from the one person in the bar he actually wants to see right now. His head throbs, the dull ache in his throat turning into a tight, bothersome burning sensation. As he prepares a round of shots, every movement feels slower than his last, his limbs growing heavier as the evening progresses.

Finally, after what feels like hours, there’s a lull in drink orders, and Vander has the opportunity to return to his conversation with Silco. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, instead saying, “you’ve got a handkerchief, no?”

“I always do,” Silco replies effortlessly, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he registers where this is going. Vander extends his hand wordlessly, becoming increasingly frustrated with his nose running like a faucet.

“Use your words,” Silco tuts, though his eyes flick between Vander’s outstretched hand and his nose, reddened and irritated after being berated all day.

“Silco,” Vander huffs huskily, evidently too exhausted to tolerate any sort of teasing, “give it here.”

“That’s no way to treat a customer.”

“Bullshit, you’re not a customer.”

“Hm, then what am I?” Silco asks, enjoying this far more than he should. His hand slips into the inner pocket of his vest, extracting his crimson red handkerchief from its resting place. He keeps it hidden in his lap, waiting for the perfect moment to submit to Vander’s request.

“A brat.”

Vander’s hand remains outstretched, waiting for Silco to drop the dominant act and give in. Fuck me Vander mentally curses as the itch swells in his nose again, forcing his wide nostrils to flare in protest. It’s like Silco was waiting for this moment—the vulnerability of Vander, flushed and slightly out of breath, his hitches almost an invitation.

“I know you always hhhHave one on you. Give it to m-hHHH-me dammit,” Vander’s previously annoyed tone is replaced with one of urgency. Both he and Silco know damn well he can’t hold back for shit.

Silco watches, waiting until the very last second before pressing the handkerchief into Vander’s palm. His fingers brush across the calloused skin of Vander’s hand, which is nearly twice the size of his. Vander clutches the handkerchief, turning on his heel and doubling over as a sneeze tears through him, “hHHHGGSXCHHH’Hh’ugh!”

“Bless you,” Silco purrs once again, silently cursing the countertop separating him from the sick man. He can feel his arousal making itself known, pressing against the tight confines of his pants, “You’ll be making that up to me, you know I don’t share–” he begins, but Vander cuts him off.

“I’ve been pudting on a show for you all nighd. Don’d be so greedy,” he mumbles huskily, the congestion in his voice dulling certain consonants. Vander gives his nose a strangled blow. It’s unsuccessful at first, eliciting a huff of frustration from the man. With both hands holding the handkerchief over his nose, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the next attempt. The second noseblow is much more productive, clearing his airways as best they can be with a cold ravaging his nose.

“That’s better,” Vander acknowledges, tucking the– already soiled– handkerchief into his back pocket and moving to wash his hands again. Silco, having been observing Vander’s every move, shifts to relieve some of the pressure in his pants.

“It’s a shame you have to work,” he comments idly, knowing full well that Vander could’ve called someone in to cover his shift, “I’ve heard a good fuck is quite the cure-all for colds.”

Silco’s bluntness never fails to catch Vander’s attention. People typically shy away from expressing their kinks, especially one as bizarre as sneezing, but Silco treats it as he does anything that can bring him sexual gratification: without shame– though don’t be mistaken, he’s eager to indulge in humiliation when given the chance.

Vander knows exactly what Silco is alluding to, weighing the benefits of closing early or calling someone to take his place. His stubbornness and grit can only last so long, it seems, as he leans heavily against the bartop again.

Grinning as he recognizes the slight defeat in Vander’s expression, Silco presses on, “Would it be so terrible to take a night off? I’d stay, of course, to attend to your needs.”

Vander looks up, his eyes traveling from the smirk on Silco’s face to his slightly unbuttoned top– had his chest been so visible before, so appealing? His view of Silco’s slim waist is blocked by the counter, but he’s almost certain Silco’s hard to some extent; it really only takes a few sneezes to get him going. After all, Vander’s are his favorite.

“Fine,” he agrees stubbornly, glancing at the clock. Typically, The Last Drop would stay open well into the night and through the earliest hours of the morning, but it’s only 11:30 and Vander feels like dead weight. He leans down, searching for the bar-phone he keeps next to the especially expensive liquors. Upon finding it, he dials an employee's number despite the guilt ringing through his mind. He’s not one to give up easily, and he’s certainly given one hell of a fight to make it through this shift, but the promise of a quieter room and Silco’s attention is enough to sway him.

“Jay? I’m sorry to ask, but–,” Vander pauses as his breath hitches, the itch suddenly returning with a vengeance. He holds the receiver as far away as possible, ducking to the side and clamping his other hand over his nose, “hhHHHGDTSCHHH’huew!”

Apparently, Jay could still hear the utter desperation of the expulsion from over the phone– and was left to imagine the mess it made, and trust, it was messy– and is quick to say, “I’ll be there in twenty. Try not to drop dead by then.”

TBC…

as always, any reblogs, tags, and comments are very much appreciated!! i experimented with a different writing style with this fic, so any feedback is appreciated as well :3

#sneeze kink #sneezefucker #sneeze blog #snzblr #sneezefic #sneeze thoughts #snzcane #snz kink #snzfics

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onlyyvette · 10 months ago

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Megatron's Tramp-stamp thoughts?

Megs with a tramp-stamp...🤤

In my honest opinion, Megatron is totally a MILF, so him having a tramp-stamp makes so much sense. Just imagine him being this terrifying, all-powerful warlord, hell-bent on getting his way, crushing everyone who dares to oppose him with a little help from his fusion cannon...

Now imagine that same Megatron, with a new frame update, making him stronger than he previously was, much sturdier... and much more appealing with a new decepticon tramp-stamp.

As he makes his grand entrance into the main deck of the Nemesis after his new frame change, Megs has a smirk on his face; he knows that every con in the room can feel a new air about him, can feel a newfound power thrumming through his powerlines. Little does he know, most of the decepticons are gawking, more focused on at the tramp-stamp decorating their leader's backside.

Everytime he moves, his wide hips make that damn tramp-stamp move back and forth, a near mesmerizing thing. It makes it much easier for mechs to pay attention to his repeated, tiresome speeches on how they'll take down the autobots. Well, more like they're laser-focused on how the tattoo moves so fluidly along with his back and forth pacing and how much longer they can stare without getting their helm blown off.

Megatron doesn't get the big deal about it anyway. It was just a little additive that he thought was nice, but he knew how easily things like this could get mechs riled up, especially how inconceivable it seemed on mechs like him. He uses it to his advantage too, knowing that having soldiers that were incredibly down bad for him would strengthen their loyalty and in turn, ensure that less defect to those disgusting autobots. Much more effective than putting them on The List. Though if it was so easy to make the decepticons stay loyal to him, maybe he could entice powerful autobots to abandon their cause...

Don't mind the fact that I'm posting again a month later😋

#vetty rambles. ✿#vetty's thirsts. ✿#vetty's anons. ✿#transformers #valveplug #megatron #megatron x reader #top reader #dom reader

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incognit0slut · 1 year ago

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (11)

She ever thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Her involvement in the case becomes more crucial than she lets on. wc: 2.7k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: I know this part is long overdue, I've been very busy lately and I can't seem to write anything good for me to post. But do not fret, I am back and better than ever before (lol) Also, thank you for patiently waiting for this update🤍

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"I WOULD HAVE STRANGLED HIM IF I WERE YOU."

Y/n frowned as she watched the slight furrow on her friend's brow, adding an element of emphasis to her words.

A moment of silence passed between them before Sandy rolled her eyes, leaning against the plush couch in the living room with a tall glass in her hand. "I'm just saying," she explained. "He was being a total jerk."

She let out a sigh. A slight confusion weaved itself whenever she contemplated him. She thought that voicing out her emotions on what occurred these past few days could ease her, yet thinking of him was only making her question her sanity. It was as if her mind was attempting to decipher a language it didn't fully comprehend, leaving her caught between curiosity and apprehension.

She honestly didn't know what to think anymore. One minute she felt like she was head over heels for the guy, and the next minute strangling him didn't seem like a bad idea after all.

She could even list all of the things about him that riled her up, yet somehow the thought of having her hands wrapped around his throat reminded her of something entirely different, which was why she found herself saying, "You know, he would actually enjoy that."

Sandy raised her brows. "What? Getting choked to death?"

She scoffed. "No, not to that extent. But like, in another context." She then narrowed her eyes. "If you know what I mean."

The subtle innuendo didn't go unnoticed as Sandy's eyes widened in surprise. "No way."

"Way."

"Damn," her friend mused before taking a sip of her drink. "Smart and kinky. If only he wasn't such an ass to you."

Smart and kinky weren't exactly words she considered using in one sentence, but the sound of them put together surprisingly sounded enticing. It sounded enticing enough that her mind was starting to play tricks on her. It sounded good enough that she found herself starting to miss him, even when logic dictates that she shouldn't.

And now it sounded compelling enough that she couldn't help but weigh in the pros and cons when it came to the man, putting the cons on his ability to switch attitude in a span of seconds into a completely different person—not to mention his tendency to assume biased reasonings based on poor judgment.

On the other hand, the pros were very hard to ignore. There was a certain charm in his awkward demeanor, especially in his shy and uncertain smile every time it was directed her way. Then there was also his intelligent mind she was definitely drawn to.

But above all that, he was, without a doubt, a certified freak in the sheets.

And that was on top of her list.

A subtle sigh escaped her lips, revealing a hint of her internal struggle. "I mean, he did have a good point, don't you think?"

"Y/n," Sandy warned disapprovingly.

"What? He was only doing his job..." She glanced at her. "...right?"

"This is the alcohol talking," Sandy dismissed before standing up. "You would never forgive a man this easy if you were sober."

"It's Margarita Night, what's the point of being sober?" She proved her point by finishing the last drop of liquor from her glass, the vibrant notes of freshly squeezed lime and tequila playing across her taste buds.

Sandy simply scoffed as she took her glass and disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking together following behind as she started making them a refill.

Y/n leaned back and closed her eyes, her body poised for a moment of relaxation. But just as the first tendrils of calm began to envelop her, a sharp interruption pierced through the air—the sound of the doorbell ringing.

A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she rose from the couch. "Our pizza is here!"

Light steps carried her to the door as her stomach grumbled in anticipation, the scent of cheesy goodness already wafting through her imagination. She slowly wrapped her hand around the doorknob and swung the door open, but instead of being greeted by the delivery guy clad in his familiar uniform, the last person she thought would be on the other side of her door stood right in front of her.

Her eyes widened, capturing the shock that rendered her momentarily speechless. Time seemed to slow as her heart raced with caution while she attempted to process on what was happening.

What were the chances of seeing him again right at the moment when she had her friend coming over just so she could rant about the guy?

It was as if the universe was playing a trick on her, presenting a twist she could never have anticipated. As the seconds ticked by, she then finally found her voice, a mix of caution and confusion lacing her words as she muttered, "You're not the delivery guy."

"I'm not," Spencer—god, she still couldn’t believe he was here—responded, his eyes scanning along her features. "Sorry to disappoint you."

There was a fleeting moment where their gaze met, an unspoken wariness passing between them. The memory of their last meeting surfaced with a wave of tension that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She watched as his expression shifted, the space between them seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the weight of their unspoken words.

Then a throat being cleared cut through the silence, a soft disruption that broke the spell of their locked eyes. Startled, her gaze broke away from his, shifting to the source of the interruption. And there, standing beside him was another figure—a woman she hadn't noticed until that very moment.

Recognition flashed in her eyes as she glanced at the familiar face, recalling the blonde-haired lady as one of the agents she met at the bureau the other day. Agent... Jareau, was it?

Yes, that was definitely her name. She was one of the few agents who actually treated her without judgment, checking in on her from time to time, which was why she focused her attention on her instead.

"Agent Jareau, what brings you here?"

"Sorry to barge in this late," she replied with an apologetic smile. "But we'd like to have a few words with you."

"It's fine." Y/n stepped aside and pulled the door wider. "Do you want to come in?"

"No, it's alright, we'll be quick—"

"Yes."

Her gaze turned back to the other man and narrowed her eyes.

"I think it’s better to have this conversation inside."

She studied him for a moment before nodding, letting the two agents step inside her home. There was a clatter coming from the kitchen as she closed the door before walking down the hallway, expecting them to follow behind. "We can talk in the living room but—"

"We're putting you on protection."

She abruptly turned on her heels. "What?"

Agent Jareau sent a disapproving look towards Spencer as if trying to say this was not how they usually handle things in this situation. The woman turned back to her and gave her a reassuring smile before explaining, "We've been investigating the situation thoroughly, and it appears that the Unsub we're dealing with might have developed an unhealthy obsession with you."

Her heart slowly raced, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through her veins as the words finally sink in. "Obsession?” Her brows furrowed deeper. “What do you mean?"

"As you may know, all of the victims were related to you in one way or another, where you received some kind of mistreatment by them all. We believe the Unsub might be doing this out of his way to protect you."

She felt a knot tightening in her stomach, a growing sense of vulnerability she had never experienced before. "P-Protect me? But why?"

Agent Jareau's expression softened as she continued, "We're still working to understand the motives behind their actions. But given the escalating behavior and the potential danger it poses, we've decided it's best to put you under protection."

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. "Protection? Like... witness protection?"

Spencer, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "Something similar. We're proposing a protective measure—having an officer discreetly follow you during your daily routine."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You want me to be followed?"

Agent Jareau interjected, "It's for your own safety. We believe that having an officer close by could deter any potential threat and give us a better chance of identifying the Unsub."

Her mind raced as she considered the implications. "But how will I know? Will the officer be obvious?"

"Officer Anderson is currently outside in a separate car. He's trained to blend in while keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings."

"I..." she trailed off, then shook her head. "Will he be there all the time?"

Spencer nodded. "Yes, but we'll do our best to be inconspicuous. You won't even know he's there most of the time."

The idea of having an undercover officer tailing her sent a mixture of emotions coursing through her veins. Safety, yes, but also an unsettling feeling of being under constant scrutiny.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, it is."

Her thoughts suddenly spun like a whirlwind, torn between disbelief and grim realization. She had always taken her daily routines for granted, the simple act of going to work or meeting friends devoid of apprehension. Now, each step she took seemed laden with an invisible weight, as if unseen eyes were tracking her every movement.

And to top it all, was she actually the sole reason behind these murders? She wasn't exactly the one acting out these gruesome crimes, yet it might as well happened because of her. Who could harbor such an unhealthy fixation on her? What had she done to attract this unwanted attention?

The unanswered mysteries gnawed at her.

Agent Jareau reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she read the familiar look in her eyes, it was the same look whenever a witness was starting to blame themselves. "This isn't your fault, we're here to support you through this. Your safety is our priority.”

With a deep breath, she nodded, silently accepting the protection they offered. The blonde-haired woman then gestured for her to open the door, which she did, and pointed towards a car parked a few blocks away with its window down, revealing a normal-looking guy sitting behind the wheel.

"That's Officer Anderson, he'll be trailing behind you at a safe distance. You won't even notice he's there."

The officer caught them staring and lifted his hand, a gesture of his greeting. Y/n waved back at him. "Great, I've always wanted a personal bodyguard."

Unfortunately, none of the two agents standing beside her caught the sarcasm in her voice. Agent Jareau turned back to her. "You have our number, right? You can call us anytime if you need assistance."

She did have her number, she also had Agent Prentiss' number who constantly assured her to call if she ever found anything new that could help with the investigation. But surprisingly, out of all the agents she met, the one agent she didn't have their number was the one she had been sleeping with all along.

Not that she was ever going to call him. She simply nodded out of politeness, and as she did, she could feel watchful eyes staring at her intently. Agent Jareau's keen eyes also caught the subtle interaction unfolding before her. She caught the way Spencer's gaze fixed with unwavering intensity on Y/n, who seemed determinedly oblivious to the weight of his stare, or rather, she was purposefully attempting to ignore his scrutiny.

Sensing the tension in the air, she took a step back, offering a fleeting glance to Spencer before turning to leave. "I'll wait in the car."

Her footsteps softly echoed in the night as she disappeared, and Y/n wasn't sure whether being left with him was a good idea.

She could feel the subtle shifts of his movements, the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest, as they stood just inches apart. She could also feel the warmth radiating from his body, a tantalizing contrast to the cool breeze that brushed against her skin.

"You okay?"

The air felt charged with tension as he spoke, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and sincerity.

"It's safe to say I'm far from being okay," she decided to say.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers curling and then relaxing by his sides. His lips parted slightly as if he were on the cusp of forming the words he had carried within him for so long. His gaze, intense yet searching, traced the contours of her face as if trying to find the right entry point into a conversation that had been left untouched.

And then he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry."

She finally dragged her gaze on him with an expression that betrayed little emotion. "Are you sorry because a serial killer out there has an unhealthy obsession with me or are you sorry about your misconception of me?"

"Both." He seemed to search her eyes for a reaction, his uncertainty palpable. "But you must understand I was doing my job, it was never my intention to hurt you."

"But you did hurt me," she answered, her gaze dropping momentarily before returning to meet his. "Whether it was intentional or not."

He seemed to struggle for words, a mix of emotions playing across his features "I know. I'm sorry."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression remaining impassive. After hearing the new update on the case and how much she was actually involved, she wasn’t in the mood to be having a serious conversation.

"It's getting late,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “You should probably leave."

Spencer let out a sigh. "Listen, I—"

"It’s getting late,” she repeated, her voice sounding severe. “We can have this conversation another time.”

His shoulders slumped, the weight of his remorse heavy on his chest. He had hoped for a reaction, a sign that his apology had made a difference. Instead, her indifference left him feeling adrift, as if it was a barrier that he couldn't breach, a shield that rendered his efforts to make amends ineffective.

There was nothing else he could do as she turned to face him fully again, her eyes meeting his with a calm finality.

"Good night, Dr. Reid."

He reluctantly took a step back.

"Good night," he murmured.

Then with a nod, he slowly turned away, leaving her standing there all alone. Her gaze remained fixed on his receding figure, his form gradually blending into the night.

Doubt suddenly gnawed at the edges of her consciousness—Had she made the right choice? Was her choice to distance herself a shield to guard against potential heartache, or was it a missed opportunity to rebuild what had been lost?

She shook her head and went back inside, closing the door behind her before leaning against it. It wasn't until she heard footsteps emerging from the kitchen that she realized Sandy was still here.

"What was that all about?"

Y/n glanced at her friend. The two freshly filled glasses in her hands were calling out to her and drowning herself in heaps amount of alcohol seemed like a good idea, even when she was probably going to regret it tomorrow morning. But she needed to feel numb by all of these emotions.

She watched as Sandy offered her a glass, waiting for her reply. There were a lot of things she could answer with, but the only matter that stood out to her was the new revelation on her involvement on the case. So she took the glass from her and pressed her lips around the rim as her mind drifted toward the disguised officer sitting right outside her house.

There was no other way than to explain it as it was.

"I think I might be in danger."

>> NEXT PART

taglist #1

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Don’t forget to interact with the story!

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

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Ummm if you’d feel like writing it, I would go absolutely fucking feral for some Jackson Rippner content by you!! Maybe him revealing he’s been stalking reader or something of the like?? Honestly just whatever wanna write! It would be amazing either way

oh ugh I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to revisit this lil monster!!

warnings: con turned noncon, degradation, skanky club sex, jackson being creepy as hell

"I swear I never do this," you blurted out alongside a giggle as he pulled you into the mostly-empty coat closet, pressing you up against the wall before the door was even shut.

"Me either," he replied as he started to pull up the bottom of your dress, but you couldn't know if that was true-- it didn't really matter now, did it?

You bit your lip as he groped your ass, strong fingers pulling your panties down to your thighs; you arched your back, hardly believing this was happening but insanely turned on that it was.

"God, you need it so bad," he noticed with a little laugh, and you whimpered from being called out like that. But you sighed with relief as you heard him quickly opening his belt and pants.

You gasped when you felt him press right up to your, his thick head sliding between your folds. "F-fuck, a condom," you reminded him, and he laughed a little.

"No time," he replied before sliding in, and you would've protested if you weren't too busy moaning from the stretch. "Shit, baby, you're soaked."

"O-oh, fuck," you purred as he slid all the way to the hilt, your eyes rolling back from how deep he was. You got pretty lucky that the handsome stranger you'd been flirting and dancing with tonight had such a perfect cock. And yes, you were plenty wet-- he'd been turning you on just with the way he danced with you, little teasing touches and his body pressed to yours... obviously you had to be pretty turned on to agree to this.

He pressed his hips to yours and held onto you tight as he started to thrust. "God," he groaned, moving pretty quickly already, "fucking dripping. Such a desperate slut."

You gasped, wondering if you should be offended by that; but it just made your walls clench on him in encouragement, so you really couldn't act mad about it now. "Fuck," you blurted out instead, "I-I said I don't do this--"

"I know you don't," he smiled, moving in closer to speak beside your ear. "I know you don't, baby, you're a good girl."

You smirked a little, wanting to remind you both of how deliciously wrong this was. "You don't know me," you breathed, "you don't even know my name."

"I know your name," he replied. "I know your address, your license plate number, that shitty password you use for everything--"

You laughed awkwardly, not sure what he was getting at... until he started to list them. Everything he said, he told you in a low moan by your ear, and the longer he went on the more your smile fell into a gasp and you fought to push him away-- but he just grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the wall as he growled and fucked you harder.

"Such a good fucking girl," he said again, sounding meaner this time though. "So good and so naive... I just had to see you let loose, baby, I'm sorry-- I wasn't supposed to break cover, but I had to see how easy it would be to get you to let out the little whore I could tell was hiding underneath. I have to admit, you were a lot easier than expected."

"What the fuck-- get off me!" you yelped, trying to squirm away, but it was totally useless, and he fucked you harder against the wall as he bit down on your neck.

"My name, by the way, is Jackson," he groaned. "I want you to say it when I make you come."

#jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner smut #dark!jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner dark fic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy dark fic #cillian murphy smut

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serickswrites · 4 months ago

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I’m a huge fan of your writing. I was hoping you could tackle a trope that I always come back to.

Whumper tells whumpee they’re free to go but the catch is whumper just drugged whumpee and they have limited time to try and drag themselves to the open door. Whumpee tries their best and nearly makes it but their time runs out and whumper shuts and locks the door.

Hello, Anon! Thank you so much for the compliment!

I can 100% write this for you. I absolutely love this trope. I hope this is to your liking.

(I'm also trying out my new tag in everything list lol)

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, non con drugging, failed escape, cruel whumper

Whumpee was hazy. They had bee hazy the last couple of hours after Whumper had strapped them down to a table in the center of the room. They had struggled against the restraints, but Whumper had quickly injected them with something.

And then it didn't matter.

They knew they should be afraid. They knew they should try and get away. They knew that Whumper would start torturing them soon. But they were so hazy. And the room was spinning.

"Oh, would you look at that, I think this finally worked," Whumper said with a twisted smile. "I should have tried this with the others."

"Please," Whumpee whispered. They didn't want to be tortured. They had to get away. But no matter how much they wanted to, they couldn't muster the energy to fight Whumper.

"Tell you what, Whumpee. I'll let you go. If you can make it to the door, you are free to leave."

Whumpee's heart beat quickened. They were free? They could leave? Surely this was a trap. "Please," they tried again.

"Let me just unstrap you and open the door," Whumper said, their smile growing, "and you can be on your way."

Whumpee couldn't believe it. They were about to be free. They were going to be free to go. They were going to be getting out of here. They weren't going to be tortured.

The door swung open and Whumper stepped back. "After you," they gestured towards the door.

Whumpee had to muster the energy to get off the table. And then it was only twenty steps to freedom. They could do this. Whumpee listed sideways as they tried to sit up.

This wasn't good.

They couldn't let themself fail. They could be free. Freedom was right there. They were right there. They tried again, tumbling off the table with a loud thump.

"Careful," Whumper said, "wouldn't want to hurt yourself on the way to freedom."

Whumpee was too hazy to notice any pain. They were too hazy to do much. They tried to raise themself up on shaking arms, but couldn't. The room was spinning far too much.

But they couldn't not try. They could crawl out. They would do anything to get away. And so they pushed themself to the limit, cursing Whumper silently for drugging them so heavily.

It wasn't impossible. They could do this. Slowly, but surely they would make their way to the door. It was painfully slow. But they were escaping.

"Did I mention you have a total of ten minutes to escape? And you've used nine of those minutes?" Whumper said as they flicked a piece of lint off their shoulder. "I would hurry if I were you."

Whumpee's heart froze. Ten minutes. Ten minutes! And they only had one minute to make it across the room. They had to hurry.

But no matter how much Whumpee hurried, they couldn't make their body cooperate fast enough. No matter how much they willed their arms and legs to move, the drugs made their movements sluggish and disjointed.

"Please," Whumpee begged as they were arms' distance from the door. They were so close.

Whumper cackled as they slammed the door shut. "I gave you the chance. It's not my fault you didn't take it seriously."

Whumpee sobbed as they stared at the closed door. Though the drugs dulled everything in their body, it didn't dull their emotions. Didn't dull their terror. Didn't dull their profound sadness.

"And now the real fun can begin," Whumper said as they grabbed Whumpee by the ankle and dragged them back to the table. "You're going to regret not hurrying, Whumpee. I guarantee it."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal

#serickswrites #whump #whump community #whumpblr #whump writing #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw torture #tw non con drugging #tw failed escape #cruel whumper #requests #queue

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ladymarycrawley · 1 year ago

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Like father, like daughter - John Stones

Not requested but I've been woking on this piece for a while so there you go 💕 and dad! John is a weakness of mine so yeah (and it's quite long). Feel like dedicating this to queen herself @footballffbarbiex 🤍

Warning: pregnancy

Tag list: @prideofpd, @johnstonesfc, @chelsealover, @masonxomount, @kathb59 (cause she was eager to read it)

Pregnancy is seen in the collective consciousness as a blessed time, where a new life is growing inside of a woman’s body and everything seems good but most people only see the pleasurable side of it, ignoring all the cons these nine long months carry with them.

Of course there’s physical pain (back pain, swollen feet, morning sickness just to mention a few), that’s something concrete everybody can see. What’s more painful it’s the hidden part of this journey, the one that takes place in women’s head: embarking on such a massive change might be scary and sometimes fear overlaps with the joy of welcoming a new human being, overcoming it most of the time.

The most common worry is about not being ready enough to become a parent (as it’s the hardest job a person can do) followed by the difficulty of giving birth: how is it going to be? What will I do if something wrong happens? Will it be as painful as they make it seem in films?

All of this has an impact on mental health and stability, as all these fears may take a toll on a person’s mind and rely on the most disparate stimuli to give life to the most random scenarios…

"John I'm so scared"

"Of what?"

"There's people who like pregnant women but not in a good sense…"

"In what sense?"

"Like they find them hot and have a fetish for them, that's scary"

That what can be defined as one of the random scenarios mentioned above: that afternoon you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone to stumble upon an article about the most unusual fetishes and you happened to read about people who had the pregnancy kink.

"So what?"

"That's gross and what if these people steal my pics and do vile things with them?"

Your head started spiralling in panic as your hormones and your unstable state of mind was totally controlling you. Too many thoughts in that overworking brain of yours culminated in desperate tears rolling down your face.

"Your pics are safe and you look so sexy"

"I don't, this thing is insanely big and…and the other day you called me whale" You confessed to him as sobs were making you shake.

"Affectionately though, I'd never call you a whale to insult you…" He wrapped his arms around your waist "You're the sexiest, most beautiful whale ever" John whispered with a husky voice right into your neck

"You're fake, you're just mean"

"I'm not mean!"

The sobs were getting harder and your boyfriend knew the breakdown was getting serious.

"You'll leave me for some beautiful, hotter woman that'll give you no problems and you'll be cheating on me and I'll end up as a single mother and -"

"Hold on, hold on. Calm down and take a deep breath" John tried to calm you, stressing those encouraging words and trying to take deep breaths with you as to show you the priorities you should have considered.

"You're overthinking"

"What if something goes wrong? What if the birth doesn't go as planned? What if our baby -"

"Calm down"

"I've read a lot of stories of mums that had horrible experiences while giving birth to their babies and what if one of us dies?"

John blurted out his eyes in shock as fear and worry covered his perfect face as well.

"Don't even think about it. We're following literally what the doctor told us, I'm sure they'll do whatever it's in their power for your safety"

Your baby kicked in that moment, as if your worry suddenly became her own and she felt the urge to calm you down, coming to the aid of her dad.

You gulped and brought your hand to your belly as John’s eyes never lost sight of you.

He’d never lost sight of you, not even when you went through labour and you were holding his hand so tightly while following the midwife’s instructions, trying to coordinate your pushes with the deep breaths she was asking you to take.

You were trying not to think about all the fears that piled up during those months but it was so hard when all the contractions trampled over you so violently. He stayed there even when you were squeezing his hand so hard your nails dug into his skin, almost piercing it.

He was the antidote to all your nightmares: someone who stayed there with you, holding your hand through thick and thin.

John only left at nightfall and only after you insisted for him to go back home to sleep on a proper bed.

You were feeling like a done and dusted whale, all bloated and tired while he was there looking so fine, surely fresh out of the shower as the unmistakable scent of his aftershave tickled your nostrils.

The sight of him entering what had been your room for the last two days made your heart swell and the butterflies in your stomach soar.

The tiredness painted across your face as well as your swollen eyes made your freshly woken up expression evident and John couldn’t help but smile as your tired smile welcomed him.

"Hi"

"Good morning"

He closed the door behind him, approaching your bed and looking at the small crib where your tiny baby girl was sleeping.

"How are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"Yep…slept a couple more hours"

"Good" He muttered while pressing his lips to your forehead.

"And how is she?"

Both your glances fell on the product of your love that was so small she could easily fit in one of John's large hands and looked so cute in her blush pink bodysuit, stretching her little legs as she was probably busy dreaming something.

"She seems fine, we can't wait to go back home"

"I know…they said you would be good to go today"

"Yeah but they want to check in on us for a final check and then we can go"

"Okay" John was a bit disappointed he couldn't take his ladies with him and leave the hospital right away so he reluctantly nodded and got up to take you something to eat for breakfast.

"I want a giant chocolate croissant"

"And a giant cappuccino as well?" He asked with a smirk, knowing full well your taste when it came to what to have for the most important meal of the day.

"You know me so well" You exclaimed, happy with those small things that weren't small at all in your eyes; they meant the world to you as him and your baby were now your whole world too.

John smiled, a blush pink tint colouring his cheeks and lowered himself over your seated figure, balancing himself on the mattress with his hands, his lips busy pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"See? Everything went well, you're both doing great" He whispered, referring to your fear of something potentially going wrong during the birth, your biggest fear.

You smiled back at him, watery eyes full of weariness and emotions looked up at him as you moved your head to the side to press a tender kiss to his hand that was soothingly caressing your cheek.

“I love you so much. Both of you”

“I love you more”

That sweet moment was interrupted by a nurse who knocked on your room’s door to check in on you and Iris, as it was time for the last visit before discharging you officially.

John waited outside for it to be over, using that time to buy you the delicious breakfast you have been longing for.

He really hoped they could give you the green light to go back home because that would have meant everything was okay and you were perfectly healthy. So he prayed to hear the good news he was waiting for, to see your baby in that white wooden cot you spent a whole day choosing at the store, paired with that flowery pink bedding set his sister gave you as a gift and that had you crying as soon as you opened the box.

After fifteen minutes or so the nurse opened the door followed by the medical staff who welcomed your boyfriend with a smile, the doctor holding your file in her hands. She complimented John on your newborn and told him what he was dying to hear: you and Iris’s health status was good and you were ready to leave the hospital.

He thanked her and nodded when she gave him some quick advice on how to take care of them during the delicate moments following the baby’s birth.

After saying their goodbyes quickly John rushed back to your room with a big grin plastered on his lips.

"We're going home babies" He cooed, taking the duffle bag with all your personal belongings.

“Not so fast, Stonesy” You chuckled “Help me get out of this bed so we can get ready”

The City player giggled and helped you step out of the bed so you could stand up properly. The standing posture made you feel pain in places in didn't even know they existed and the grimace on your face told it all.

“I’ll take the baby and all her things while you put all your stuff in here” He said, directing his tall body towards the crib where his princess was looking at him with her blue eyes. “Yes baby, you’ll come with dada”

The moment you dreamt of a lot, that is to say John making his silly little voice to speak to your daughter, finally happened and it brought genuine tears to your eyes: funny how a small, tiny creature that you met for the first time no more than 72 hours earlier, that shared every single second of the last nine months of your life with you suddenly became the most important, priceless treasure you ever put your hands on.

You thought there were some feelings it was impossible to give form to and love was one of them, but you had to change your mind the moment you took her in your arms because you realised the human being you were holding was the embodiment of all the love you had for her dad. So some feelings, even the strongest one, had a shape and it was astonishingly beautiful.

“Oh I see you’re already taking the baby and leaving me with the heavy things” You mumbled, feigning being angry at him.

“You had her with you for 9 months, don’t be selfish”

“Me selfish?? Oh I’d have really liked you to carry her in your belly for 9 f-”

“Oi don’t swear in front of the baby”

You laughed seeing him all concerned and covering Iris’ ears as he was glaring at you. You shook your head as you slowly started to collect all your things around the hospital room.

“Give me my breakfast, I’m starving”

“See? Your mum has already changed and uses me as her butler and credit card”

His joke caused you to roll your eyes as you were trying to get dressed while dealing with your yet aching body.

You were in some baggy pants and an oversized hoodie because it was the only outfit you were feeling like wearing as John was there looking as flawless as usual even though his fit was quite simple: a pair of jeans matched with a gray jumper and a baseball cap on made him look hotter than usual. The child seat he was carrying with your baby girl in was making him even look like a real hot daddy and your heart was bursting with love. The right word to describe how you were feeling was blessed.

When you finally stepped foot in your house you sighed in satisfaction as you just wanted to get in your bed and cuddle with your new family in peace, eating some good junk food if possible.

“Home sweet home”

John smirked and carefully put the child seat on the floor so he could take Iris out of it.

“Welcome home, baby” He lifted her up to place her against his shoulder so her head could rest against it, as they showed him in the hospital. “This is your home”

“I’ve missed it so much…I think I’m going to lay down for a while”

Lying down on your own bed, on the bed sheets you chose, in the room you shared with the man of your life gave you that much needed home feeling.

You closed your eyes in the attempt to relax but the level of weariness, of emotions you had experienced recently didn’t make it any easier for you to sleep a little.

"Ok so I'm gonna go"

"I don't wanna see anyone" You mumbled when John finally entered your room, cradling Iris in his arms. When he looked down at her to see she was asleep, he put her in the wooden cot right next to your bed.

He couldn’t help but smile: that sight was the closest to perfection he had ever seen, as that piece of furniture that had been empty for all those past weeks was now full as it should have been, hosting the most important treasure ever.

"Not you, idiot. I just wanna see you and our baby" You grumbled as your voice came out feebly due to your state of tiredness.

John smiled and was about to sit next to you on the bed as your phone started ringing, much to your dismay. You groaned in annoyance.

"Who the fuck is now?"

"Your mum"

"Tell her I can't talk, I'm sleeping"

He nodded and swiped on the screen to do as he was told. You knew your mum was dying to talk to you, to make sure you were doing okay but you just wanted to enjoy the peace of the moment and keep that special moment for you only.

When he finished talking, he finally climbed on the bed and you soon were all over him, wrapping your arms around his body and letting your head rest against his chest with your eyes closed breathing in his familiar scent, the best fragrance in the world to you.

"Are you comfortable? Maybe it's better if you lay on a pillow"

"Nope, you're my comfiest pillow"

John scoffed with a half smile and kissed your head.

"Wanna watch something on Netflix?"

"Nope, too tired" You muttered, cuddling closer to his chest.

John's lips curved in a smile as he brushed his thumb against your right cheekbone.

He then scrolled through his phone, answering all the text messages the people he knew sent him ahead of your baby girl's birth.

"What are you doing?" You really wanted and needed to crack some sleep but your mind wasn't agreeing as the level of adrenaline in your body was still too high, plus you wanted to stay awake to spend some time with John and checking on Iris.

"Answering all the texts they've sent for Iris"

"Read me some" You wanted nothing more than to bask in the sweet words of people congratulating you, saying how beautiful your baby was and how strong you've been through all the process. After all you deserved all those sweet words: bringing a child into the world is something so brave people tend to underestimate sometimes.

John pressed play on a voice note from Kyle that made you both laugh, then read you one from Jack and at that moment your own phone rang with a notification and you asked John to check who it was from.

"It's from Sasha, she answered the pic you posted with "congrats you gorgeous mama"

"Aww she's always the sweetest"

"Well, you're everything but gorgeous now…"

"HEY" You threw a fist against his bicep with the little strength that was left in you. "I just pushed your daughter out of my vagina, you should be a little more grateful"

John loved getting on your nerves, making your thin-skinned side come to surface. He giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I know I look awful and I stink as I really need to take a shower but I can't, I'm so tired" The whiny tone you pronounced those last words with was about to turn into a desperate cry but John took action just in time.

"You know I was joking" He took your face in his hands to look right into your eyes "I'd get you pregnant again right now if I could"

"Liar"

He laughed and kissed your forehead.

"I'll help you with the shower later on"

When your baby whined a little in her sleep the little yelp caught your attention as you both turned your heads towards the crib.

"There's the blanket over there, put it over her" You gestured for him to take the pink honeycomb blanket to cover your baby girl's sleeping body.

She looked so cute with that tiny blanketyou fell in love with as soon as your eyes took sight of it on the shop’s shelf and you had no doubt it would have been perfect for your beautiful baby.

“Can you believe we made her?” You asked John in awe as he was lovingly tucking her in. You got up to join him, encircling his waist with your right arm and putting your head against his bicep. "We made her teeny tiny feet, those little hands..."

“Yeah…you know what they say?”

“What?”

“Daughters tend to be more similar to their dads in the looks”

“So?”

“So if she’s beautiful that’s all thanks to me... even Kyle said it”

Another thing the collective consciousness ignored was the post pregnancy period: the danger of post-pregnancy depression was real but you knew you had the most handsome dad in the world who would have helped you along the path, even when the downs would have outnumbered the ups.

“Yeah Stones…I think you and your friend need some sleep too…you’re hallucinating”

And no, you weren't upset at all: you only wished for your daughter to be the carbon copy of her amazing father. So you hoped deep down your heart the Kyle was right.

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