#I liked that one so much that is the only one I drew in a clean piece of paper while the rest were drawn in notebooks

[witherby]

Part 7 of mer!reader?🫣🫣🫣

Of course! I think it's time to get you and Damian back together.

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader Part 7

Masterlist with all parts Here!

Content features upsetting Mer behavior and unsafe diving practices. Wear your protective gear, people!

It takes another month for your routine to settle back into a semblance of normalcy. The specialists Bruce told Damian about had spent three days observing your behaviors and drew up a detailed care plan to help you recover as best as you could, which the facility follows with great enthusiasm.

You wake up and swim to the entrance of the tank to receive breakfast from Jon. Afterwards, he and Clark gently roll you out of the tank to apply weird-smelling salves to the patches on your tail, encouraging it to heal correctly and for new scales to grow. You sit and wait for the salve to absorb, then you get back into the water to play a little, and then it's Attention Time.

You swim all the way to the bottom floor of your tank, where visitors come admire you through the tunnels under your tank for several hours. Sometimes you have the energy to do a trick or two.

Then, it's back up to the top of the tank for dinner, more playtime, and then you get to sleep until tomorrow where you do it all again.

But the lethargy remains. The stinging, empty space in your chest only seems to grow the more you see Damian dispassionately leading tours and refusing to look at you. Of all the people that come to admire you, the one person whose attention you actually want, you cannot get.

Jon, bless him, is trying so hard to keep you happy. He talks to you every day, he gives you tons of treats, he swims with you as long as you want him to, and he's given you so many new toys that they've overtaken your cute rock collection. His effort is why you're doing your best to hide how bad you still feel.

And his company does help! It does. You can comfortably call him a friend, and mean it. But you are so tired. You miss Damian so much. You feel drained, and the urge to remain inside your little hideout gets stronger every passing day.

Every night, in the comforting darkness of your castle spire, the old bricks pressing against your body and shielding you from the rest of the world, you allow your thoughts to drift back to the boy with beautiful, emerald eyes without fail.

You think of the first time you met him, and how he looked at you as just another dumb animal in the aquarium for him to care for. You think of the first time you made him realize you were so much more — how you'd done every trick he commanded with such attitude and even mocked him back that he actually cracked a smile. You think of the first time you pulled him into the water to show him your favorite parts of your habitat, and then how he reassured you it was fine that you almost drowned him by accident because he knew you hadn't meant to. You think of all the times he snuck in after hours to spend just a little more time with you, to play just one more game, to ensure you didn't feel like another part of his job he had to do but someone he genuinely looked forward to seeing.

You think of the pretty blush on his face when you mustered the courage to give him your scales.

You think of all the gifts you left him afterwards, and how you didn't get any back.

You think of his dispassionate expression as he leads another group of visitors into your enclosure, day after day after day.

Your chest burns. You weep into the water and succumb to fitful slumber.

--

"I need a dive team to the Mer tank please! Right now!"

Damian furrows his brow, momentarily pausing his work. He's in the dolphin exhibit currently hand-feeding them when the announcement comes over the speaker system. He wonders what you're doing to have freaked Jon out, but it's not his place to care anymore, so he tries to push the curiosity from his mind and refocus on his task.

One dolphin in particular is pretty bad about taking food from a handler. It's also just food aggressive in general, bullying its pod-mates out of the way to get to the food first. Damian can't help but compare how much smarter you are to these animals. He sighs.

"Doctor Kent to the Mer exhibit!"

Hmm. Did you breach your tank again? Or maybe you bumped your body against the spire you like to sleep inside. Damian tried to tell his father that the rough brick texture could hurt your more vulnerable top half if not careful, but Bruce was certain you'd be alright. He wonders what kind of fuss you're kicking up today, if it's a real issue or if Jon hasn't been around you long enough to realize that sometimes you fake a problem because it's funny.

"All divers to the Mer exhibit please!"

Tim rushes through the door into the dolphin exhibit, startling Damian into dropping the bucket. He quickly backs up with a gasp as the dolphins swarm to the food and start gobbling it up. He faces Tim with a glare.

"Does nobody know how to follow protocol anymore? You're supposed to knock before you —"

"You need to get upstairs," Tim says, holding up an access key to your enclosure, "like right now. Vitals on our mer are really bad, we can't extract them from the spire and —"

Damian doesn't stick around to hear him finish that sentence. He snatches the key and sprints through the aquarium like the devil's on his fucking heels. His heart is racing and not from the exertion. He forgoes the elevator and starts rushing up the stairs three at a time, climbing floor by floor by floor to get to you as fast as he can.

It was a real emergency, then? What had happened? Jon was supposed to be taking care of you now. You were supposed to be recovering. You were supposed to be happier without him, now.

What was wrong with you?

There's no time to head into the locker room and get a wetsuit on. He jams the key into the exhibit door and throws it open, rushing into the room with single-minded focus.

Jon is in a wetsuit and treading water, relaying information to his dad with a worried frown. Clark is kneeling next to the tank and giving him instructions on how to get you to the surface. Dick is sitting on the lip of the tank and wiggling into a suit of his own, very unfamiliar with the gear as he doesn't dive with Mers. Bruce is on the phone and standing by Clark, looking more and more concerned as the situation develops.

When Damian bursts in, Dick startles and looks up at him, fumbling with the clasp on his flipper.

"Dami, go ahead and get a suit on. We need you to — DAMIAN!"

He doesn't think. Doesn't stop to listen to whatever Clark's rambling on about. Doesn't wait for permission before he kicks his shoes off, takes a running start, and dives into the tank in his plainclothes. He pedals his arms and kicks his feet as hard as he can and goes down, down, down, deeper into your vast tank and towards your favorite resting place. The effort is tremendous without the slim, hydrodynamic suit to aid him and a rebreather to allow him to stay down here for long periods of time. He pushes past it all and keeps going. You are in trouble and he is going to help you.

When he makes it to the spire and swims around to the entrance, he immediately sees the issue. Your body is curled into the mer version of fetal position; your arms are locked around your waist in an embrace and your tail is coiled underneath you in a tight spiral, twisted around itself and wedging you deeply into the cramped space. The angle of your body, coupled with the tight spacing of the hideaway, make it nearly impossible to pull you out.

In the wild, a mer found in this position is an almost universal signifier that they are near death.

If there's no intervention, you are going to die today.

Damian climbs into the spire with you, squeezing his body inside with a low grunt. A burst of bubbles escape from his mouth. If he can't pull you out — a dangerous move which would damage your tail and break your fins if they tried — he has to unfold you.

His back scrapes against the bricks and pain rockets down his spine. Another bunch of bubbles fly out. He grits his teeth and starts carefully pushing at you, gingerly moving your upper half, then your lower half, around and around and around to create enough space to safely push you free.

His chest is heaving. Damian is exhausted and quickly running out of breath. He cannot stop. If he stops, you won't make it.

He jerks when something jabs his ankle, arms wrapping protectively around you as his head snaps down to see what happened.

Jon is hovering just by the spire opening, holding a rebreather in his hand and shaking it insistently at him.

Damian reaches around you and makes a few grabs at it, finally curling his fingers around the device and pushing it into his mouth. He clicks the button to turn it on and almost coughs when oxygen starts to flow into his lungs. He slumps against you briefly, taking in your closed eyes and face twisted into agony.

What happened, he thinks. How did this happen to you, Princess?

His ankle is jabbed again. Damian looks back at Jon, who has his hands out in an offer of help. Damian gently starts to maneuver you around again, slowly but steadily unfolding your body, and when Jon catches on, helps do the same thing from your opposite side.

It is painstaking work. Dick eventually gets into the water to join in, but there's no room for him, so he hovers to the side ready to help carry your body to the surface when you're finally free.

It feels like it takes hours, but can't be more than twenty minutes. Twenty minutes too long in Damian's opinion. Eventually, your body is unwound enough to ease you out of the spire without injury, and the three men rush you to the surface where Clark and four other vets are waiting to take you. It becomes a flurry of activity after that.

Damian spits out the rebreather when his feet are back on solid ground. He pants and doubles over, limbs shaking from exertion, and watches the medical team assess your condition and fret over you. You're loaded onto a special stretcher and whisked from the room, and he's about to follow suit when a hand clasps over his wrist.

"No," he rasps, already gearing up the breath to scream at his father, but Bruce just shakes his head and presses a towel into his hands.

"Here," he says, voice soft and knowing. "Here, Tadpole. I just want you to get dry before you follow them into the medical bay. You can't help anybody if you get sick."

Damian clutches it, staring at his father with no small amount of trepidation. Bruce just sighs.

"I'm sorry, Damian. I am. We'll talk about it later, but I won't separate you two again. You have my word." He jerks his head toward the doors. "Go dry off and change in the locker room. I'll call Medical and tell them to let you in when you're done."

Damian throws his arms around Bruce, uncaring about how he's soaking his dad. Evidently Bruce doesn't care either, if the fierceness in which he hugs him back is any indication.

"Thank you," Damian whispers, then pulls away to head to the lockers.

[slutsareteacherstoo]

Reina…i been reading this in between my breaks and lunch today. YOU ARE SOOO DIABOLICAL IN THE BEST WAY! This was soooo amazing!!!

My reactions will be below🤭

FIRST THINGS FIRST!!!

We love a good outfit opener 🙂‍↕️

“The tip of my nose was left stinging from the wrath of the cold.” Come one sensory and imagery

The lockdown browser - THAT WAS A THROWBACK 🤣

The educator eye contact is real. As a student i hate it but as an educator im like give me something. PLEASE 😭

FAVORITE GIRL?!?

“Of course, I did. That's why I… talked you through it,” he said, looking me up and down. - I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!!!!!! (I love this by the way. Love me a good ellipsis)

Not the big girl voice!!!! TERRY RICHMOND IK WHAT YOU ARE 🫵🏿

Please not him on the TikTok

NOT HE GOT A GOOD ASS MEMORY 😳 ID BE ORANGE. OH HELL 🫥🫣🫠

Okay Professor🙄 cool it. Youre not special. Just another nigga out here. Tf you think you talking to?? YOU TELL HIM ATHENA 🗣️🗣️🗣️ since you wanna be big and bad or whatever😒

Nah cuz he’s dead wrong for that! You know its hella people in the library tryna study. You talking about Athena and Shanice being loud. Nigga look at you!!!!!!

Whew 😅 not they bout to desecrate the books, chile.

OH HE WAS PREPPING WITH THAT TALK THROUGH BEFORE!! I bet you the next time Athena present something she gon be thinking of him TEW much like🤭

*water shaking GIF*

PRETEND HES NOT THERE?!!! ARE YOU (Terry) OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?! 😭 (this is so diabolical!!! I love this!!!!)

Not even gon hold you, Id make him give me the money to buy another pair😏Clothes are expensive!!!! Esp in the cold at the end of the semester……

“He slowly pulled his fingers out and brought them to my mouth. With no hesitation, I parted my lips and stuck out my tongue. I was more than ready to lick my cum off his fingers.

Before I could react, he drew his hand back and brought it to his mouth. “Mine,” he grumbled in my ear. His tongue flicked between his fingers as he cleaned them. I watched him in a blissful combination of shock and lust.” - OHHHHHH I LIKE!!!! THATS MY TYPE! THATS MY TYPE. And frok behind???🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ *head nodding emojis*

“Unfortunately for me, this was the first time in my life that my mouth had written a check that my ass couldn't cash.” - i thought we was ending on this as a cliffhanger here which would be been wild and evil 😈 but theres more ahhh🙈

YUP YOU NOT THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN REMEMBER WORDS TERRY

WELL SHIT

*you tell em baby gif*

Not the sex making you lose grip on reality. It must be SOMETHING!!!!

“…Don't worry. Imma talk you through it like I always do…” see that throughline?!?!? *faints*

Nah i got bad knees. Cant be doing all that bending but go on Athena 🫣🤭

PLEASE BOTH TERRY AND ATHENA GOT THINGS UP THEY SLEEVES. LOCK IN GIRL!!!🤭🙂‍↕️

YOURE NOT DONE?!?! 😳

WOW. And now the story is done 🥹

Wow thank you for this blessing. Im going through the mentions. Im making my way back 🙂‍↕️🫡

Let Me Teach You

Pairing: Toxic Professor!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +7K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, Toxic Dom!Terry *if you squint and turn your head*, breeding kink

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

ding

Shanice: wya

Me: Heading to the Eng. 2 study session for finals

Shanice: aww, you going to see bae🥰

Me: STFU!

Shanice: why you mad? you know i ain't lying

Me: Go to hell. I ain't got time for this. BYE!

Shanice: oop! k, bye hoe

As I approached the door to the classroom, I saw a sign taped on the glass. There was a message written in red.

Study session moved to the library

Oh, come on! That meant I now had to walk across campus. Reluctantly, I turned on my heels and walked toward the exit at the end of the hallway.

Opening the double doors, the winter breeze whipped me across the face. I knew my face was probably red and puffy. The tip of my nose was left stinging from the wrath of the cold. I was pissed because I had dressed way too lightly for this. I was only wearing a black T-shirt dress, thin black tights that looked like stockings, and a black and white varsity letterman jacket. At least, my furry black boots were doing a hell of a job keeping my feet warm.

10 minutes later

As I walked into the assigned study room, I was confused by it being empty. I took a seat on the third row which was closer to the back of the room.

I always felt more comfortable being as far away from the front as possible. It made it easier to get lost in the sea of students when professors and teachers wanted responses.

Placing my bag on the floor beside me, I begin to unpack my notes and final essay. Leaning over with my head facing the door, I see a pair of feet walk into view. My body tenses up because I know exactly who these brown loafers belong to. I immediately feel my heart rate quicken as I battle to calm the butterflies in my stomach.

“I guess you're the only one concerned with your final grade. I hope they know this is a proctored exam through a lockdown browser,” Professor Richmond said, walking to the front of the room.

“If they don't, they'll find out,” I laughed while sitting up. I slid my jacket off my shoulder and placed it over the back of the seat.

“You know what? I'll give them 15 more minutes, otherwise, I guess it's just you and me,” he said, winking.

I grew immediately hot. I could feel myself blushing. I didn't want him to see my face, so I quickly dropped my head.

“Fine with me,” I mumbled.

“What was that, love?” he asked, turning away from the whiteboard to look at me.

“Oh, um… I said that that was fine with me,” I said louder than before. I still didn't raise my head to look back at him.

“Ok. I hate… never mind. I'll keep my thoughts to myself,” he said, turning to the whiteboard.

“Never mind what? Speak your truth, professor. You hate what?” I asked, flipping through my notes.

“When you don't look at me while speaking. I like to know I have your attention. It lets me know if you're at least engaged,” he said, writing on the board.

“I just have a hard time with eye contact. Too much of it makes me… uncomfortable, I guess. I wish I knew that bothered you sooner,” I said, lifting my head to look at his back.

My eyes locked in on the movement of his back muscles. Through the material of his collared shirt, I could tell this man was sculpted like a God. I dropped my head and pressed my thighs together. I shouldn't be thinking about this man like this, but damn… I had been struggling with this feeling all semester.

“Especially, when it comes to you, it's not often that I meet someone with equally, if not, more striking eyes. Yours are just mesmerizing,” he said. I could hear him exhale with a shudder.

“Uh, professor… Are you okay?” I asked, looking at him.

His movements had paused as if he were lost in thought. I noticed that his grip on the dry-erase marker seemed dangerously tight.

He let out a much calmer breath than the first, “Yes.. yes, I'm fine. What about you?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, questioning if he was telling the truth. His mouth said one thing, but his body told another story.

My thoughts began to roam as I grasped that he called my eyes striking and mesmerizing. I was so used to people calling them beautiful or pretty that I was honestly stumped.

As I waited on his instructions, I lingered on the difference in his word choice. There had to be intention behind those words. You would only use those words if the person affected you, right? So, why would Professor Richmond use those words about me?

“Athena! Athena! Can you hear me?” Professor Richmond called out.

“Yeah. Yeah. I can… Shit,” I said, stopping in my tracks when I realized he was standing in front of me.

His 6’3 frame was probably the most intimidating yet sexy thing ever. His broad posture dominated the space in front of me. His musky cologne smoldering and intense— sandalwood and amber flooded my nostrils. This man's entire being was overwhelming my senses. All while silently drawing me in.

“I called your name a few times. You didn't answer me. You had me scared for a second,” he said, leaning down to look at me.

He leaned over so that his arms were propped on the table. Raising his eyebrows, he was waiting for me to recollect myself.

“You sure you're okay?” he questioned softly.

“Yes, sir. I promise. I was in my head and didn't realize you were that close,” I said, leaning back in the chair. I wanted to create as much space between us as possible.

“I'm sorry if I scared you, hun. That was never my intention. Just wanted to make sure my favorite girl was okay,” he said, placing his hand over his heart.

“I know. I'm fine. Uh…” I said, scanning around the room. I paused as I realized he was doing it again— using questionable words.

“Yeah, no one else showed up. Since it's just you and me, you might as well move closer. There's no reason for you to be way over here,” he said, motioning towards the front.

I nodded my head yes. I leaned down to grab my bag from the floor. Looking up, I see the professor has grabbed my things that were on the table. He walked to the front of the room and placed them on the table in the front row. He positioned me so that I was right in front of him.

Standing up with my bag and jacket, I walked to sit in the seat he chose. I was in no mood to argue or move seats. Hell, I probably couldn't even if I tried.

I quickly sat down and focused on the topics of the upcoming study session. I decided to ask as few questions as possible because I needed to get this over with. The thought of being alone with his fine ass for almost 2 hours… Jesus Devanté Christ help me.

1 hour and 45 minutes later

“So, what do you have planned for the rest of the day? Anything interesting?” he asked while walking behind me.

As we exited the study room, I noticed how empty the library was. As expected, the campus was becoming more and more desolate as the end of the semester drew near.

“No, sir. I'm going to check out a poetry book for a quick read. You know…. Something I can finish before they close the library for the semester,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Hmm… I've noticed that you seem more drawn to poetry. Your poems are honestly some of the most… insightful and beautiful ones I've read from a student in a long time. You should do something with that?” he said, walking alongside me.

“Thank you, but what do you mean by do something?” I asked, stopping to look at him.

“Publish them, Athena. You don't even have to publish all of them as a full body of work. I just want people besides me and your classmates to experience them,” he said earnestly.

I smacked my lips. “Professor Richmond, really? Don't act like you didn't see me sweating like a pig while reading them to the class!” I exclaimed.

“Of course, I did. That's why I… talked you through it,” he said, looking me up and down.

“Talked me through it is an understatement. You practically had to hold my hand each time,” I laughed into my hand.

“Yeah, I definitely had to help you find your big girl voice,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I know my voice is normally low, but you didn't have to say it like that. That was mean,” I said in a fake pout.

“Aww, I'm sorry. My bad, love. I just know you're capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for. I wish I had more time to pull it out of you,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

I froze as I watched his lip settle between his teeth. My breathing hitched silently. His lips were a blessing to look at— bright pink, plump, and full. The smoothness reminded me of rose petals, intensifying my desire to want to kiss and suck on them. I yearned to know what they felt like against my lips and skin.

Snapping myself out of my lust-induced trance, I brought myself back to our current conversation. This was the first time someone other than Shanice had been so enthusiastic about my writing.

“I don't know. The thought of so many people possibly reading my thoughts scares me. I treat my poetry like diary entries most of the time,” I said, swaying from side to side.

“No pressure. This is your art we're talking about. Just consider it, okay? Actually, there's something I would like you to read if you'd allow me to make a suggestion,” he asked, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“Sure. I trust your judgment,” I replied.

“Ok. Follow me,” he said, placing his hand on my lower back and guiding me through the library.

He guided me towards the section of the library labeled erotica. I was honestly a bit confused. I side-eyed the professor. Why would he bring me here?

“Ok, listen to me. Don't… umm… don't back out on me. If you do feel uncomfortable, you can walk away now,” he said, nodding at me.

“I'm fine,” I said, gesturing towards the shelf.

“That's my girl. I promise that I won't let you down,” he said, smiling as he turned to scour the shelf. I watched in awe as his fingers glided across the spines of the array of books.

Professor Richmond turned to me and handed me a book. It was small but hefty. The edges of the pages weathered from years of use. This was a sign of a well-loved book.

I looked up to find the professor staring at me. His smile was bright and wide enough to reach his eyes as they twinkled in excitement.

“A Woman in the Wild. Hmm…,” I said, turning the book over and reading the back.

From the cover and the synopsis, it was obvious this book was sexual in nature. The cover was extremely sensual yet tasteful. It was more suggestive than direct, depicting a woman holding a peach dripping in honey in front of her lower abdomen.

“It's about a woman's journey of exploring sex in her 20s. I think you'll like it,” he said, holding his hands together.

I giggled at his reaction. He looked like a kid sharing their favorite toy. “Professor Richmond is into raunchy writing, huh?” I giggled.

“Why do you sound surprised?” he questioned before moving closer to me.

“No real reason. Just that—,” I said, stopping myself. I didn't want to make Professor Richmond think I was judging him.

“No, explain. I want to know. What's wrong? You scared of me, Athena?” he questioned, pushing the book downward.

“Of course not!” I responded.

“Then, use your words. I've graded enough of your essays to know you have a helluva way with them, Ms. Athena. Come on. Don't get shy on me,” he said.

“You won't judge me?” I asked sheepishly.

“What're the kids saying, now? Oh, we listen, and we don't judge. Promise,” he said, raising his hands.

“Oh my God! Fine. You just give off nice guy vibes. I can only see you as super sweet and quiet, especially outside of class. You don't seem like the type to really be out there,” I blurted out as fast as I could.

“That's what you think of me?”

“Maybe…”

“Hmm… That's very interesting. What can I do to change that?”

“To be honest, nothing.”

“You know, honestly, I don't like being perceived. It's even worse when it's wrong.”

“Oh, um… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, Professor. I just wanted to be honest.”

“Oh, don't be sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for, love. Just be… be… be careful with your cute self.”

“Cute?! Professor, gone somewhere. I'm not finna play with you,” I said, playfully hitting his arm.

“What? Why? You don't think you're cute?” he questioned back.

“First of all, I know I'm cute! The problem isn't what you're saying. It's the fact that YOU'RE saying it.”

“And? So?!” he spat.

“You’re my professor. That's inappropriate, right? Like, can't you get fired for this?”

“Who's going to know? Huh? And, that's funny that me being your professor matters now,” he said, glaring at me.

“Huh?” I asked. My face contorted in confusion. What did he mean by that?

Professor Richmond’s mouth turned upward into a devilish grin.

“Maybe, next time you and Shanice decide to talk about me, you shouldn't do it outside my classroom door. That wasn't very smart. Was it?” he asked, pushing one of my loose strands behind my ear.

“Wait…”

“I think I remember you saying you wanted to know what my hands feel like wrapped around your throat, what my dick looks like when it's hard, what—.”

“Okay! I get it,” I whined. I could feel my face reddening with embarrassment. I dropped my head and began staring at my feet.

“Don't interrupt me because you got caught.”

“Boy, leave me alone!” I said, pushing past the professor. I needed to get away from this man as fast as I could.

He instantly grabs the strap of my bag, pulling me back to him.

“Boy? I'm a grown man. Don't be disrespectful, love. I don't think I deserve that,” he said as a smile began to spread.

“Whatever, professor.”

“I mean, look at how I got you running. You can't wait to get away from me,” he silently laughed.

“Running? From you? Now that's cute!” I scoffed.

“Keep playin’, and I'll show you. Nah… I'll teach you.”

“Teach me then!” I mumbled assertively. “Wait… I… I didn't mean that,” I stuttered, realizing my mistake.

I couldn't comprehend why I was all of a sudden being so bold. This was something I had never done before. Hearing myself speak like this was personally shocking.

“Hahaha, you're scared of me. Just say it,” he said, gesturing for me to walk beside him.

“Scared of what? Professor, you're probably one of the least intimidating people on campus to me. You can't be serious about all of this, right?” I probed, hoping this was all a fever dream or even a joke.

“What? You gone tell that your professor—,” he started to speak.

“Can you not? Jeez, people may hear you,” I whispered.

“Oh, so you ARE scared? Aww, so you definitely wouldn't want people to know that you want to be tied up and spanked while I—,” he began again.

I threw my hand over his mouth and quickly scanned the area around us.

“Hey!” I whisper-yelled. I looked deep into Professor Richmond's eyes, hoping he would catch the hint. I removed my hand from his mouth.

“Yeah, I heard that part, too. You and Shanice can't whisper for shit. You would've been better off just telling me,” he said smugly, shrugging his shoulders.

This side of the professor was an asshole, but… I liked it.

“Ok, so what? I said some nasty shit about you. What're you gonna do about it? Report me or something?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Nah, I got a better idea. Walk,” he demanded through gritted teeth.

He used his hand on the small of my back to guide me further into the back of the library. I couldn't believe I was letting this happen. With HIM of all people!

Once we were in a dimly lit corner, he stopped me. He stood in front of me, leaning over. “Before I touch you, I want to know that you are okay with this. There's no pressure. You can stop me at any moment, and you can leave. No hard feelings,” he said, stroking my cheek.

“I'm okay. Just a little nervous,” I mumbled as my mind began to race with a million thoughts.

The thought of being caught was my main concern. I knew this part of the library was never used or even looked at because it was where old and abandoned textbooks went to die. There were rows and rows of books before anyone would even come close to us.

“Good. I'm warning you now that I can be a tad bit aggressive,” he said, standing to his full height.

“That's fine. I like aggressive,” I said, resting my hand on his chest.

He dropped his brown leather satchel behind him. “Yeah, I figured. Turn around for me and hand me your bag,” he demanded. His voice had dropped a few octaves and was now a low rumble.

I could feel it as the sound of his voice traveled from my ears straight down to my pussy. I just knew that my leggings were ruined. I had lost all control over this situation. My brain had turned off, and my pussy had turned on.

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want me to do,” he said, leaning into my ear.

The heat from his breath warmed the sides of my neck. Thinking and forming sentences were damn near impossible.

I closed my eyes and drew in a sharp breath as my nervousness took over. I knew myself too well. When I'm nervous, I become a stuttering mess.

“Hey, we talked about this. Whenever you're too nervous to speak, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You repeat it until you’re calm enough to start, right? Because we don't rush our words out, do we?” he said, softening his tone.

His hands slid across the sides of my hips.

“Right, we don't rush. Ok, I got this,” I whispered while taking deep breaths.

“Of course you do, love. Ease into it, and take your time. I really wanna hear it from you,” he said, firmly holding my waist.

“I… umm… I want you to—,” I stuttered as I stumbled on every word.

“Think about what you want to say first. Then, slowly talk me through it. I wanna know every little detail. Do you understand?” he asked.

“Ye—. Whew. Yes, sir. I… I understand,” I replied.

“Good girl. All I want you to do is focus on telling me all your little fantasies. I don't care about how nasty or how dark they are. Say it. And, one more rule— pretend like I'm not here. Okay?” he asserted.

“Yes, sir,” I whimpered with shaky hands.

“Calm down your mind first, and your body will follow. Isn't that what I taught you?” he whispered into my ear.

I could feel him take a step back as his hands slid from around my waist. Thank God! His hands being on me was making me overwhelmingly anxious.

I shook my body as much as possible, trying to release the nerves. I focused on clearing my mind of all the negative thoughts that were coming up— this was inappropriate, he was going to laugh, and I was making a fool of myself.

I wanted to glance back at him for reassurance, but I knew he hated it when we looked at him during our oral presentations.

I inhaled a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders on the exhale. I was going to do this.

I WAS GOING TO MAKE SURE I MADE PROFESSOR RICHMOND PROUD.

“Okay….” I said slowly and evenly.

“If you are ready, proceed. Make sure your posture is engaged and your voice is both loud and direct. Got it?” he asked as his voice rumbled from a few feet behind me.

I nodded my head yes and began speaking. “I want you to choke me while playing in my pussy. I want to feel the full wrath of your hands until you leave your mark on my ass and thighs. I wanna know what your dick feels like in my hands. I wanna know what it feels like if I lick it with my tongue. I want to use my mouth to drain you until there's nothing left,” I said slowly as I vocalized all of my dirtiest thoughts.

“Ughh… Fuck, baby girl. That it?” he asked as his voice shook.

“No! I want you to fuck me until my walls remember the shape. I want you to fuck me like my body was made with only you in mind. I want to turn my brain off, and let myself just… just let you take control. I desire to please you with every part of me. I want to make you moan over and over again so that it'll be the only sound in my mind for weeks. And, when we're done, the thought of touching myself is ruined by my body remembering the way your hands felt.”

“Enough!” he grunted.

It was clear that what I said had affected the professor tremendously. Every breath he took came from his chest like thunder. He was struggling.

“Professor?” I asked, attempting to turn around.

“Call me Terry!” he grumbled.

He grabbed my shoulders to prevent me from doing so. I took that as a sign to remain still as I waited for him to say or do something. The silence was driving me insane.

Terry abruptly pulled me back into him. His chest collided with my back. I let out a loud gasp. Terry's hand flew over my mouth.

“Don't! I'll give you everything you want as long as you stay quiet. Got it, love?” he asked as his hand slowly fell from my mouth.

I shook my head yes.

“Good girl. Now, all you gotta do is focus on staying quiet and enjoying yourself. Take off your tights and hand me your panties,” he said.

“What panties?” I asked smugly.

“No panties, huh?” he laughed menacingly. I could tell he was shocked.

“None. I promise,” I said, raising my hand. I laughed at his reaction.

“Oh, I gotta see this for myself!” he said, sliding his hands around my waist.

They slowly dropped to my pussy. Using his knee, he pushed my legs open. His fingers slid over the crotch of my tights and rested between my legs. When his hands stopped moving, I knew exactly what he found— a wet and sticky mess.

My inner thighs and pussy were becoming warmer by the second. I could feel myself becoming fidgety. This man was making an absolute mess of me.

“Oh, that's nice. I hope you don't like these tights,” he whispered as he used his fingers to rip open the middle seam.

I gasped again before catching myself. I brought my hand over my mouth.

“Unless you want me to stop—,” he started.

“Mmm mmm!” I mumbled, shaking my head.

His hand rubbed up and down the slit of my pussy. Dipping his fingers between my lips, he wiggled them back and forth in the sticky mess. He slowly pulled his fingers out and brought them to my mouth. With no hesitation, I parted my lips and stuck out my tongue. I was more than ready to lick my cum off his fingers.

Before I could react, he drew his hand back and brought it to his mouth. “Mine,” he grumbled in my ear. His tongue flicked between his fingers as he cleaned them. I watched him in a blissful combination of shock and lust.

“As much as I want to finish you here, I want all of you. Having you in this library isn't enough for me. I want to hear you moan and scream. I want to hear you say my name while you struggle. I need more, Athena. Where's your phone?” he asked, leaning over my shoulder as his chin nuzzled into my neck.

“In my pocket,” I whimpered.

Terry reached around the sides of my letterman jacket, searching each pocket. He pulled out my phone and took a step back.

After a minute or so, he walked in front of me. Glaring down at me for a second, he slowly closed his eyes. He was just as overcome with lust as I was. His eyes were practically slits, and it appeared that he was possibly biting the inside of his cheek.

“Here. You now have my personal number, and I have yours. I will text you with instructions on where to meet me. One question before we go our separate ways. Do you feel comfortable coming to my home, or would you rather meet somewhere else?” he asked, handing me my phone back.

I grabbed it and placed it back into my pocket.

“Your place,” I answered while rocking back and forth.

“Hmmm. Ok, you sure about that?” he asked.

“Yes. It's less likely that we'll be spotted, right? Plus, it's where you'll be most comfortable,” I said, staring him down.

“Oh, you're a big girl, huh? If you knew what was best for you, you wouldn't keep staring at me like that. I'll happily say fuck this job and fuck you right here,” he said, licking his lips.

I watched his tongue closely. Between his words and his tongue, I was losing my fucking mind. I began to think of all the nasty things he could use that tongue for.

“Hey, you gotta stop. I'm struggling just as much as you are, mama. We gotta at least leave this library in decent condition,” he laughed.

I wanted to yell out fuck being decent, but I knew he wouldn't like that very much.

“Ok. Sorry,” I said, snapping out of it.

“It's alright. Just go straight to your dorm and get cleaned up. Also,…” he said, stepping closer. “Don't touch yourself,” he said, tilting my head to look at him.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Good girl, and don't make me come find you,” he drawled, winking at me.

We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. Terry suggested that I leave the library first.

I left and walked to my dorm room in absolute silence. I gripped the strap of my bag for dear life. My emotions were in a whirlwind. I didn't know how to feel about what just happened.

I wanted Professor Richmond in the worst way. I had never had a man make me melt in his hands.

How the fuck was I going to make it through the night? Granted, I wasn't a virgin, but I was definitely nowhere near Terry's level of experience.

Unfortunately for me, this was the first time in my life that my mouth had written a check that my ass couldn't cash.

Later That Night ~ After 9 pm

ding

Terry: Hi, I was just letting you know to wear something cozy.

Me: Hmmm… That's not what I was thinking.

Terry: ???

Me: I had something else in mind.

Terry: 1 attachment

Me: How's that?

Terry: Oh, that's better than I had in mind. TBH, I didn't know you had it in you. Maybe, my good girl isn't so good after all.😈

Me: Wow! You know, I don't like being perceived. It's even worse when it's wrong.🤭

Terry: Not you using my words against me.

Me: I was trying to remember where I had heard that before.😏

Terry: Sassy much?

Me: 😂🤭

Terry: Wear whatever you like, love. It's not like you're going to keep it on anyway.

Me: Well, then… Maybe, I'll just wear nothing.

Terry: You're not going to like the outcome of that. TRUST ME! So, behave.

Terry: Also, I hope you followed my rule.

Me: I did.🙄

Terry: You know you have to see me soon, right? So, all this sass and attitude will be addressed, love.

Me: What're you going to do about it?

Terry: See you soon.😈👿

Later That Night at Terry's Townhouse

As soon as I entered, all it took was a single look for me to know I was in for a wild night. We didn't even make it to the bedroom because Terry had other plans. He wasn't joking when he said my attitude would be “addressed”.

Now, here I was on my knees in front of Terry as he stood in the middle of his living room. We didn't even make it farther than 10 feet into the room before Terry started his attitude adjustment.

With a mouthful of dick, I was struggling to answer his questions. Between my saliva and his precum, the mess inside my mouth was becoming hard to contain. As spit bubbles formed and poured from the sides of my lips, I focused on not choking on the sloppy mess building in my throat.

“I wish you knew how pretty you looked right now,” Terry said, fisting the hair at the back of my head.

I mumbled out a weak thank you.

“Don't talk while your mouth's full. That's rude. Just nod your head, love. There you go. That's my pretty girl.”

“So, are you done having an attitude, yet?”

I eagerly nodded my head yes, tugging lightly on the handcuffs behind my back.

“I don't know. I'm not really convinced. Hmmm… Open,” he demanded, grabbing both sides of my face.

I opened my mouth and pulled back. My breathing was erratic and sharp as I gasped for air. I had been sitting on my knees with Terry's dick in my mouth for at least 10 minutes— no sucking, no licking, no moving. Just sitting there… All the while, he stood there talking his shit.

A trail of my saliva and his precum hung from my lips, dripping onto my chest. It only added to the preexisting mess on my face, neck, and chest.

“Eyes!” he barked, causing me to look up at him. “Next time, are we gonna behave?”

I nodded my head yes.

“Speak. I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, pleading with my eyes.

“That's my girl. That's all I wanted. Clear understanding, baby. Now, come here.”

Terry leaned down and carefully lifted me to my feet. My knees were sore and wobbly upon standing.

“I promise to be nicer for the rest of the night,” he said, walking around me.

He unlocked the handcuffs and removed them gently. Tossing them on the couch, he walked to stand in front of me again. He lightly grabbed each of my wrists and massaged them.

“Too much?”

“No,” I giggled.

“Hmm…,” he scoffed. “Lesson learned, huh?”

“Yes, sir. But, a reminder every once in a while won't hurt.”

“Don't tempt me, love,” he said, pulling me by my waist.

“My bad.”

“Why are you so bold all of a sudden? Where was this energy in class?”

“Well… No one else is around. The only person I have to worry about is you.”

“I guess. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back.”

Terry turned to walk away from me and disappeared down the hall.

I sat on the couch, flexing my wrists. As I waited, I glanced around the room. His home was spotless. He was clearly a man who believed in minimalism.

I turned my body to face the mirror. I laughed at my reflection. I was still covered in the mess we made. My chest and lower face were shiny and slightly slimy.

As I touched the puddle on my chest, I could hear Terry returning.

“A towel,” he said as he rounded the back of the couch.

“Thank you. I need it,” I said, reaching for the towel.

“I gotchu, baby. I did make the mess.”

Terry planted himself in front of me and stood between my legs. With one hand on my left cheek, he used the other to gently tilt my head to look at him. As he cleaned off my face and chest, the warmth of the soft plush fabric felt so much better than the cold slimy mess that once was.

“Better?” he asked, looking me in the eyes.

“Yes. Much better,” I smiled back.

“Would you like something to drink or eat? I have wine if you'd like some.”

“No, thank you. Plus, I don't drink.”

“Really? That's… uh… surprising, I guess. It's not something you hear often. Any particular reason?”

“Never wanted to, so I just never started.”

“That's definitely something to be proud of.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

Terry squatted in front of me, placing his hands on my knees. “So, I'll leave it up to you, Athena. How do you want this to go? We can sit here for a while or we can—,” he started.

I interrupted him with tenacity. “Fuck me already!” I yelled.

I can tell that Terry was shocked by my statement, but I was sick of waiting. This man had no idea of how many nights I dreamed of this happening, how many times I fingered myself wishing it were him, or how many times I yearned to touch some part of him.

“That's all I needed to hear,” Terry said, standing.

Without another word, he lifted me onto his shoulder. My hands flailed around in horror. I was instantly afraid that he would drop me.

“Don't worry, baby. This isn't my first time. Relax, I gotchu.” He laughed.

20 LONG Minutes Later

“Oh, Terry. Please!” I moaned, pushing at his chest.

Terry's hands grabbed mine and held them against my stomach. I was losing my damn mind in this bed. Now, I was second-guessing if I should've even tried to take the dick.

“Please…just… fuck… I can't!” I yelled.

Terry's hips slowed down again.

“Mmm,” Terry moaned clearly enjoying himself.

“Ahhh, fuck. This feels… it feels…,” I stuttered.

Wrapping his arms around my thighs, he pulled me closer. As if his dick wasn't deep enough, this made it feel deeper.

“Yes, you can. I know you can handle it,” Terry groaned.

I was fighting the urge to disassociate. I was fully prepared for this man to fuck me up and put me through the mattress, but this… THIS!!! I was not. I wasn't being fucked at all. I was being loved on and taken care of.

“Baby girl, stay with me. We talked about this, love. I wanna see those pretty eyes,” Terry said, reaching for my face. His hand cupped the underside of my chin.

I tried my hardest to look at Terry, but I was also I was fighting to stay present. Every fiber of my being was feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated.

“Athena! Look at me, NOW!” Terry ordered.

Listening like a lost child, my eyes opened to find Terry's. His glare was piercing into me— soul-deep. I let out a deep breath, hoping and praying that I didn't pass out.

“That's it, baby. Stay with me. Eyes on me,” he grumbled as his head dropped to watch his dick slide in and out of my pussy.

“Terry! I have… I have… to… unh… pee…,” I stammered, stumbling over every word.

Terry's eyes met mine. His face was overcome with lust. The gaze this man possessed sent chills down my spine. His eyes were low and dark, glazing over more and more by the second.

His thrusts quickened with fervor. Leaning over me, he began to speak again.

“That's not pee, baby. Don't worry. Imma talk you through it like I always do. Okay, mama?”

“Shit! What… I need… but…,” I attempted to respond.

“Don't talk just listen. Relax your abdomen, mama. There you go,” he said, kissing my neck. Stop tensing up. Uhh uhh, don't think about it. You let me worry about all of that.”

His hands wrapped around the back of my knees, pushing them back. I swear I heard my knees pop in my ear from this position.

“Fuck you,” I said absentmindedly.

“That's not nice, but since you asked for it…,” Terry's smile turned into a devilish grin. His hips snapped against my ass, and the force caused the headboard to bang against the wall.

If I didn't know it then, I sure as hell knew it now. THIS MAN WAS ABOUT TO GIVE ME HELL!

“Wait!” I yelled, trying to get out of his grasp.

“No, ma'am. We don't run in this house. Take this shit.”

Pushing up on his legs, I felt like this man was trying to actually fuck me into the mattress. Tears began to fall from the corners of my eyes. If I had just kept my mouth shut, I wouldn't be in this position.

I closed my eyes, trying to just take it. The pressure I felt before was 100x worse now.

“Open your damn eyes! Right now, Athena.”

“I ca—,” I started.

“Nah, you gone show me how good this pussy is, or you ain't cumming at all.”

“Aww, fuck… please… do something,” I begged. I felt like I was about to piss all over this man.

“Okay,” Terry practically laughed as he leaned down, licking the tears falling down my face.

His hand reached over me to grab the top of the headboard. Using it as leverage, Terry used every inch of his dick to punish me. As if I wasn't struggling enough, I had to survive a new level of demon dick Terry. I knew that after this; I would have my wish. My pussy would definitely be molded to only fit him.

“Look at you. That's right, baby. Now, let it go!” Terry moaned loudly.

He used his free hand to press against my abdomen. This singular move was the catalyst for the start of the flood between my legs.

“Oouu… look at you. Stay just like that,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.

His head fell back on his shoulders as he continued to pound into me. It was becoming more apparent that Terry was losing it as his hand slipped from the top of the headboard.

Shifting quickly, he placed one hand by my ear and braced himself on top of me. His head fell forward, and his mouth dropped open. His eyes locked onto mine. I was still too fucked out to speak.

“It's coming, baby. Fuck! This… ahh, fuck.”

“Shh… It's yours. Let it out,” I said, wrapping my legs around Terry's waist. I brought my hands around his back, holding him in place.

I was about to indulge in my little breeding kink fantasy. If he was going to cum, it was going to be IN ME!

“Mama, that's not… uhh, fuck!” Terry groaned as his eyes snapped shut.

I knew what was coming. I felt the warmth of his cum coat the inside of my pussy. Like a switch went off, I released a second orgasm. Terry's breathing became erratic and choppy as his eyes reopened to look at me.

“Shit, that's a dangerous game you playing’, lil girl!” Terry exclaimed, leaning up.

He let my legs fall as he pushed my thighs open.

“Damn!” he said, watching his cum drip from my pussy.

Terry tilted his head so that it was directly over my pussy. His mouth opened slowly. I watched as he let a thick trail of saliva fall straight into the mess between my legs.

“Huh, ahh. Terry!” I said, watching him in shock and lust.

“Yeah, I'm… I'm not done,” Terry said, pushing himself back inside.

All I could do was moan out in pleasure. I grabbed Terry, pulling him back in and forcing him to go deeper. If this is what he wanted, fuck it!

Let's be honest, the nasty freak in me liked this shit. It wasn't like I wanted him to stop anyway.

Taglist: @episodes-ff @babybratzmaraj @persethegawd @pocketsizedpanther @kimuzostar @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @megamindsecretlair @mymindisneverhere @writingsbytee @brattyfics @avoidthings @keyaho @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @onherereading @nayaesworld @phuckyoreblogs @venusincleo @1darknymph @insertcatchynamerighthere @honeytoffee @mitruscity @ladypegusus-blog @lettersofgold @jimmybutlrr @5headsupremacist @blowmymbackout @insidefeelingofanadult @kirayuki22 @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @pinkpantheris @talkswithdesi @dxddykenn @simplyzeeka @theglamclosetsl @melaninadorned @peachbuttetfly

[astronnova]

trying to figure out how i would wanna draw both of them inbtwn working on shtuff

ramblings under the cut

ok *cracks knuckles* excuse my design ramblings

vlad & danny are such interesting parallels to me esp if u wanna play more into the horror aspect of the show. vlad to me is the kind of horror vampires bring, they're attractive and alluring with large spiked gothic mansions as they suck you dry before you even register what happened.

danny is more like... small town radioactive horror? to me? does that make sense??? the horror of feeling, of knowing something is wrong with one of your classmates in your small, middle of bumfuck nowhere town. you know something is up, but he's still here walking around like always.

unfortunately my style is basically rip off anime LMFAO and i've never been good at communicating horror (falls to my knees and cries) but phantom could be so creepy and eerie. a seemingly teen boy in a hazmat suit, with a gas mask and/or goggles, wandering the streets at night, floating over streetlamps and making them and traffic lights buzz on and off. also electric core danny. he died to electrocution his ass is electric i do not Care what the show says, frost core danny can eat my ass🖕 (sorry to the frost danny likers. i do have an idea for the frost core thou)

my friend gave me the idea of making vlad snake-like too to match danny as a badger, snakes and badgers are natural enemies and all that. plus i didnt realize until after i drew it but vlad's hair and cape give him the silhouette around the head of a cobra! so i gave vlad cobra stripes on his ghost tail

i really like the idea of vlad kind of representing what danny could be. he represents the allure of power and letting go of your humanity i guess. he's petty, selfish, and has definitely murdered a couple people just because he felt like it. i know there are bones in the walls of his manor i just Know it. which i feel could be a fun way to rethink danny's first interaction with plasmius proper, maybe danny figures out who some wisconsin serial killer is with the added bonus of finding bones and rotting clothes in the walls of the basement because. ghost powers. and only another ghost could hide a body that way. ya feel me? its cool. kinda just rambling atp

i played around with giving danny a full face gas mask but i didnt like them too much. the goggles im on the fence about, i wanted them to be the same round goofy goggles maddie and jack wear but it takes away from the potential creep factor i feel... or maybe i just dont know how to draw it creepy (yet). he doesn't need the gas mask as a ghost but it would help hide his face i think. thats one thing, im watching eps with some friends who arent really into the show like i am and they keep asking how tf does no one know its danny and i just have to gently put my hand on their shoulder and tell them its cartoon logic. but for this! i feel like danny's face would be harder to see, like he's usually engaged in combat and when he's not he still has that gas mask and goggles combo, and its not like his hair looks the same like it does in canon.

ok crazy people ramblings OVER

[noxitsnox]

if we get too closе, would it be okay?

hyun-ju x gn!reader - highschool au

summery: hyun-ju came out to her- now ex- girlfriend who spread the rumor around the whole school.

tags: trans/homophobia (the word tr**ny is used one (1) time), bullying, hurt/comfort, lots of fluff i promise, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i am obsessed it's not fair. this is pre-t but i'm still going to use she/her pronouns for hyun-ju <3 also english is not my first language and this isn't proof read, so i apologize for any mistake. @exactlyinfp

hyun-ju didn't want to go to school that day. her girlfriend, ex girlfriend now, broke up with her just because she trusted her, because she didn't want to hide anymore and she believed that her girlfriend of almost two years would understand. but she didn't. she called her all kind of names and blocked her everywhere.

she hoped this was where it ended. that they could just ignore each other and keep living life as it is. it would have been so much easier that way. but the moment she entered the school hallway she knew something happened. the looks she was getting were strange, full of hate. definitely not the looks you receive when you just broke up. she tried to ignore it and walked to her class with her head down.

it was early. a lot of time passed before some of her classmates entered the room. maybe it was better if they stayed outside. their chatter died down as soon as they saw her. one of them, who was seated next to her, took his desk and dragged it as far away from her as possible. “you're sick”, he said under his breath. “stay away from me.”

she stayed silent as the realization hit her. if he knew, everyone else did too. fighting tears, she forced herself to keep cool.

slowly people filled the room. everyone ignored her, even her so called friends looked at her with disgust. only y/n seemed to be acting as if nothing happened. maybe they didn't know about it yet. they’ll turn their back to you like everyone else, she thought.

“oh hyun-ju, how are you?”

y/n waited for an answer that never arrived. so, with a sad smile, they spoke again. “it's fine. you don't have to talk with me. you have my number in case you change your mind.”

———

for the rest of the week she ignored everyone. she was barely alive.

every morning she entered school feeling like a criminal. her locker in the changing rooms was filled with insults. some guys even tried to push her on the ground. that was the only moment she reacted. she could ignore words, but physical aggression was were she drew the line.

every night she cried herself to sleep, wishing she had someone on her side, someone to talk to. her family didn't know about what was happening in school and she hoped for it to stay that way or she wouldn't even have a home anymore.

it was on saturday afternoon that she lost it. she was out, getting some groceries for her mother at the local market, and she saw her ex with her friends. she tried to hide before they could notice her, but she wasn't fast enough.

"oh god, isn't that that tranny you used to date?", one said pointing at her.

"don't say that out loud, please. what will people think of me?"

hyun-ju ran away without even taking food from the market stall. she kept running until their voice became indistinguishable echoes.

she sat on the side walk and took out her phone, looking for y/n contact. she started crying, the tears blurring her vision.

their words came back to her. you have my number in case you change your mind. were they serious? she hesitantly called them, hoping for the best.

y/n didn't take long to answer and for that she was grateful.

"hey, you called!"

"i- yes... listen can you, can you come here?"

"oh hyun-ju, you're crying? is everything okay?"

"i don't even know anymore. please, just come here." and with that she hung up the phone, quickly shared the position with them.

she hugged her knees as she waited.

———

y/n was happy that hyun-ju called, even if the situation wasn't ideal. even though they weren't intimate, they cared about her and it made them sad to see her suffer. especially if she was being ridiculed for something beyond her control.

y/n tried to get to her as fast as possible. they went out in their sweats without bothering to put on something nicer. they didn't like the idea of hyun-ju seeing them in that state, but they also realized that they had to put vanity aside at the moment.

as soon as she saw y/n she got up and hugged. they remained in that position for a while. hyun-ju cried and cried while y/n rubbed her back, doing what they could to comfort her.

"sorry... i don't know why i did that", she said as she let go of them.

"you don't have to apologize. do you feel better now?"

"i do, thanks."

an awkward silence fell until y/n suggested they start walking with a wave of their hand, "do you wanna talk about what's happening?"

"i just want to forget about it. can we talk about something else?"

"oh sure", y/n looked at her and smiled. "do you wanna hear about this manga i'm reading?"

a/n: i realize that for an xreader the reader is barely there 😬 sorry. let me now if you liked it!!

[neurospiczzzziee]

Blitzø is actually really good at Art

From an Art Educator Perspective

Okay so I saw some posts on Blitzø actually really enjoying art and that being his passion other than horses. I don't know if in the fandom we have had this consensus or if this is a hot take on my part, but Blitzø is actually really good at drawing.

You may ask why I know this and why I am so confident?

My credibility: I literally specialize in it.

I am a professional artist. I am a High School Art Teacher, who got their degree in art education and attended a well acclaimed art school.

(Self-taught artists are extremely valid and you do not need to go to art school to be an "actual artist". I am bringing up my background to show that I have a lot of knowledge of the development of fine motor skills and the ranges of art abilities and how to further improve them.)

As an educator, if Blitzø was a student and I saw Blitzø's drawings/doodles I would automatically recognize that he was actually advanced in abilities. Based on looking at his drawings I can tell if he were to actually take his time and focus on something he could create really beautifully detailed/rendered artwork.

You may ask how I know this??? I'm glad you asked.

THE AMOUNT OF LINE QUALITY THAT IS DEMONSTRATED IN BLITZØ'S DRAWINGS IS INSANE.

✨Art Lesson time✨

Okay so everyone learning to draw goes through the necessary stages of development

I'm just going to give humans as an example because obviously this is a fictional demon we are talking about.

Generally everyone goes through these stages as they grow and work on learning to draw. (Prodigies are extremely rare and I've only seen one once)

Art skills are like a sport. You need to train in order to develop fine motor abilities and control in your hands. The more you draw and do art the more you gain control of your muscles. It takes a lot of time and years of work to improve.

When a person's fine motor skills aren't as developed their lines tend to be shaky and they have less control. The more a person draws the better their line control becomes.

(Think of when you were little and you were first learning how to write)

The way I can tell how advanced Blitzø is, is through his line quality.

Now what is Line Quality?

This is a screenshot from this wonderful article

So in Blitzø's artwork he very much illustrates good Line control, force, thickness, and fluidity.

Okay first of all I want to Mention

THAT BLITZØ IS DRAWING IN PEN. You can tell this because different parts of the Calendar are crossed out with his scribbles. Also anybody with a calendar knows you have to write with a pen.

LOOK AT HOW CLEAN, FLUID AND CONFIDENT THESE LINES ARE DESPITE THAT HE IS DRAWING IN PEN!???

My assumption is that Blitzø is not using a reference for these drawings. You could make the argument that he has photos for M&M, Loona, and Stolas; however, he definitely does not have a photo of Striker.

I want to mention how dynamic of a pose he is drawing people in. He isn't avoiding hands at all. All of the hands are relatively accurate (Strikers especially).

In these drawings you see variation in line weight meaning parts of his lines are thicker to thinner. So Blitzø is purposely pressing harder and lighter to show variation and depth. His lines are very clean. I don't see repetitive Stokes and lines for the shapes. He is really confident with his mark making and you can tell because his lines aren't shaky at all.

By looking at his line quality and how clean it is you can tell he drew it quickly.

Not to mention he actually has a huge range of items he can draw confidently including and not limited to horses, weapons, leashes, cars, demons, and of course genitalia.

Blitzø isn't what you call a one trick pony 🐴 when it comes to what he can draw.

You can see this skill demonstrated in his other doodles.

You can even see this ability demonstrated in his drawings on the whiteboard

Okay anybody who has drawn on a whiteboard knows that they are difficult to draw on.

Whiteboards smear and are very streaky. In this photo you can tell where Blitzø made a mistake or changed information. Notice that none of his drawings have any smears. That means he did these drawings in literally one take.

I also want to mention his drawings in spring breakers. He is speed drawing directions and illustrating a plan perfectly to his employees.

HE IS LITERALLY RAPID FIRE SPEED DRAWING HERE

His drawing of Veroskika which he DREW FROM MEMORY.

Demonstrates the following:

Line control, Line Confidence, Line Fluidity, Variation in Line weight, and still has relatively correct proportions!?

Basically shut up MOXIE?!!! He did a good job!

Why have we not seen more detailed Blitzø artwork?

Okay so I as we know in the show Blitzø puts his doodles everywhere. So if he is good at Art why isn't he showing his artwork he spent a long time on????

The answer: he's insecure

Showing someone your art is a very vulnerable action. This is especially true if you spent a long time on it.

If someone doesn't like or makes fun of your doodle you can brush it off and be like well it's only a sketch and I did it in under 5 min.

It's a lot easier to show someone a silly little horse drawing you did than something you poured your heart and soul into.

We already are aware that Blitzø is insecure and has self-esteem issues. He literally covers his face in the photos of himself throughout his apartment. He is a very guarded individual. Of course he wouldn't show people the art he spent hours on. What if people reject them? They judge him for spending that much time? What if they see how much he actually loves them?

Blitzø feels like the kind of person who would crumple up or destroy his art that he spends long amounts of time on. It's a way of self-sabotaging yourself and further self-loathing.

Now do I think he has these hours long art pieces/drawings????

ABSOLUTELY

My guess is that Blitzø most likely has a hidden sketchbook. Artists tend to draw their loved ones and especially their children and partners.

There is no doubt in my mind that Blitzø hasn't been doing long observational drawings of Stola's especially when he is sleeping.

He has most likely been drawing Loona all the time. Why do you think he takes all the photos? Those are his references. He has probably been drawing detailed artwork of his loved ones this whole time (and of course horses too lol).

In conclusion

Blitzø actually can draw really well because his doodles demonstrate high levels of skill in line quality.

Going forward I would really appreciate if someone actually finds Blitzø's sketchbook or portfolio of his artwork he spent large amounts of time on. It would be really cute. It would be adorable if Loona or Stolas found them.

Blitzø could gain more confidence and put is artwork he really cares about on display 🥺

I also just want Moxie to find out and eat his words. (Guys I swear I don't hate Moxie 😂)

Thank you for joining me here today on my Ted talk on how I think Blitzø is actually a talented artist. I'm just an art teacher who has problems with how much helluva boss lives in rent free in my head.

[exhelluvafan]

I find your fan art of Blitz walking away from a dead Stolas with a knife through his head pretty gross and tasteless. Friend there are much better and healthier ways to take out your frustration. Honestly I think you drew that to spite Stolas fans and Stolitz shippers.

Buddy, you went to a blog that's clearly hateful of the canon Stolitz as I've expressed several times in different posts I've done, what were you expecting?

Also, not my fault that Stolas / Stolitz stans turn out to be the worst of the worst of the fandom (save for a few exceptions of course, but those exceptions are dwindling quickly in numbers), which, by the way, I kindly remind you that those same stans were the ones screaming at Octavia for rightfully cutting her neglectful father off her life and wished the worst for her, and I fully mean like, death threats and advocating for child abuse.

And to add a bit more spice to your ask, the knife that's stabbing Stolas' head is actually Striker's blessed dagger, so there you go, hope that makes you happier.

Lastly, I'm NOT taking the art down, not only because I actually worked hard to finish it and having to endure drawing Viv's horribly over designed characters, but because you have the option to curate your feed, I'm not sorry for expressing my distaste over a coercive relationship based on deceit and rape through art, and I'm not interested on your "healthier ways" because what I did wasn't wrong in the slightest as I was just expressing what should've happened in Mastermind / Sinsmas if Blitz wasn't so forcibly OOC and complacent to his abuser "lover".

tl;dr: sorry not sorry.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Show Me What Love Is

(Sequel to "This Is How It Starts")

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+, MDNI (shameless smut, profanity) Words: 7,356 Themes: friends to lovers, shameless smut, fluff and smut

Summary: In the weeks after your breakup with Andrew Larson, you and Sebastian Sallow waste no time making up for lost time. But it's impossible to study for your N.E.W.T.s when you can't keep your hands off each other.

Notes: I had so much fun writing "This Is How It Starts," I needed to write a continuation. Just more shameless smut. Loosely inspired by "Happiness" by The 1975.

I promise to ease up on the shameless smutty one-shots and focus on my chapter fics now. I'm probably lying.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

“I heard she dumped Larson because he’s a virgin.”

“No, I heard it was because he didn’t quite… measure up to Sallow, if you know what I mean.”

“Wait, I thought she was hooking up with Gaunt now.”

A snort escaped before you could suppress it. If the rumors hadn’t been so ridiculous, you may have found them insufferable. Instead, you and Sebastian Sallow were currently cozied up in a secluded corner of the library, where you – and your classmates – were supposed to be studying.

Sebastian clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he fought to conceal his own. He had you pinned against the bookshelves, his body pressing yours against the rows of wood and bound pages as you struggled to remain quiet. Shielded by bookshelves, the two of you had decided to postpone your study session for a quick snog.

It had been two weeks since your breakup with Andrew Larson, and the Hogwarts rumor mill was still churning. Given that you didn’t hide your new romance with Sebastian, whispers spread like wildfire through the castle walls. And while you weren’t particularly happy about them, you didn’t really care.

Because for the first time in months, you were satisfied. My god were you satisfied. 

You and Sebastian had wasted no time making up for lost time. Your relationship with him fulfilled you in ways Andrew couldn’t have even considered, physically and emotionally. 

Despite all the sex you and Sebastian were having, your bond had strengthened and you found yourselves falling easily into the routine of a seasoned couple. Sure, the early stages of any romance were always more fiery, more passionate, more electrifying, but the two of you seemed to have cemented yourselves in each other’s hearts for the long run. 

With both of your feelings out and in the open, there were no more secrets or unspoken words. You and Sebastian were simpatico; two people who were content in simply spending time together – though most of that time was spent in various states of undress, engaged in salacious activities.

As your giggles subsided, Sebastian smirked, dipping his head to kiss your neck. He smelled like the cinnamon you’d watched him sprinkle in his tea that morning. The sensation of his lips pressed against your skin drew a moan from your lips.

You froze, your wide-eyed gaze shifting sideways toward the end of the aisle as you and Sebastian held your breaths. When no one seemed to have overheard your indiscretion, Sebastian shot you an amused smirk.

“You’re going to have to learn to be much quieter if we’re going to stay here,” he murmured.

“It’s not my fault!” you hissed. “You know my neck is a sensitive spot.”

“Precisely why I did it.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’re not complaining.”

“I’ll burn your house down.”

Sebastian breathed a soft chuckle. “No need for such violence,” he hummed before he pecked an affectionate kiss to your forehead. “Besides, it’ll be your house too someday.”

Sebastian spoke of your future with such certainty, it was both thrilling and dizzying. You had no doubt he was the only person you’d ever want to spend your life with. You knew that long before the first time he touched you or told you he loved you. The two of you had far too much history, and now that you knew one another sexually, you had ruined your futures with anyone else for life. 

Now, Sebastian referred to himself as “We” – as in the two of you, a couple. His plans for graduation, your careers, your home, were your plans now. His future was your future and he wasn’t shy about letting others know.

But you still had three weeks remaining as Hogwarts students. Your N.E.W.T.s were set to begin the following day, which was the only reason you were standing in the library instead of romping around in bed like you’d done the previous night.

You knew your romance with Sebastian wouldn’t be perfect forever. Neither of you were perfect, and you certainly didn’t expect your relationship to remain that way. Sebastian could be impulsive, stubborn and downright stupid when it came to making decisions. You were snarky, ambitious and strong-willed. Your past friendship together was all the proof you needed that the two of you would inevitably have fights and shouting matches. But it was also proof that the two of you could overcome anything – especially if it meant the make-up sex would make it all worthwhile.

Yet as satisfied as you were, you were still insatiable. You couldn’t get enough of Sebastian, even though he’d been your best friend for nearly three years. But you were his girlfriend now, and that made you see him in an entirely different light.

You were his first real girlfriend. He’d never bothered to craft much connection or meaning to any of the girls he’d hooked up with in the past. You had always chalked it up to his short attention span and impulsive ways. You hadn’t known it was because he’d been waiting for you.

Today though, he was clearly tired of waiting. You’d spent the morning with your noses buried in books, seated at one of the long tables at the center of the library, until you felt Sebastian’s attention vacate his Astronomy notes. His stare fell on you; the way you softly sighed while you contemplated the spell theories in your book; the way you subconsciously chewed your bottom lip as you scribbled in your notes; the way the hem of your skirt creeped upward when you crossed your legs. 

He looked at you like you were the last piece of dessert he’d ever get to consume. He’d always looked at you like that, but you failed to notice until now. Only recently had you come to learn just how much power you held over Sebastian Sallow.

Now, you’d seen the way he whimpers at your touch; the way he grits his teeth and clenches his fists whenever you climax around him; the way his chest heaves when he watches you undress. But you also had seen the way he beams when he makes you laugh with a lewd joke; the way he always pours your morning tea before his own; the way he lets you steal all the blankets and covers at night, only to smile at you with sleepy eyes the following morning. You’d ruined Sebastian Sallow far more than either of you thought possible.

But now Sebastian had you pressed against those bookshelves, his hips guarding you from daring to move. He stood with one foot between yours as he leaned into a deep, slow kiss, the top of his thigh pressing against the apex of your thighs. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, tightening with impatience. 

“Careful, darling,” he murmured. “You’ve already ruined two of my shirts.”

“I’ll ruin your life if you don’t fuck me already.”

He didn’t bother to bury his laugh this time. It erupted from his throat and echoed through the aisle, sure to draw attention this time. The two of you swapped a glance and Sebastian shrugged. He brandished his wand from his back pocket as he held your gaze, and with a fluid wave, cast a Disillusionment charm.

You quickly did the same, disappearing against the rows of books such as Sophronia Franklin came curiously wandering into the aisle. Once she was gone, you caught the glimmer of Sebastian’s outline moving toward the Restricted Section. You followed him quietly through the gate and down the stairs, a route you could navigate with your eyes closed after three years of illicit exploits.

Once you reached the storage room at the bottom, you and Sebastian shed your charms and hurried toward a desk that had been shoved against a wall. Without a word, you backed Sebastian into the desk and clung to his shoulders as you kissed him. His hands snapped to your waist, the melt of your curves triggering his arousal.

He groaned as you stepped closer, your hip pressing against his front to facilitate his erection. You were certain you’d never grow tired of the power you felt every time you made Sebastian’s best asset stand at attention.

You palmed his erection over his pants, dragging your fingers across his hard length. He hummed at the friction, his heavy panting exposing his anticipation.

Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle and zipper before you shoved his pants and boxers to the floor in a heap, his cock springing from their confines. You took it in one hand, your fingers circling around the shaft while you swiped a thumb across the tip. Sebastian twitched at the touch.

You watched him with glee, drunk on the way his jaw clenched and breath hitched. It was the most fun you’d had in ages. He couldn’t help but smile at your proud expression, a sign he was also aware of the power held.

“You’re evil, you know that?” he murmured. 

“You made me this way.” 

You pumped him steadily, his breaths increasing with your pace as he leaned backward against the desk. You tore your gaze from his blissful expression to examine his cock in your hands, the tip glistening with his arousal.

Dropping to a crouch, you guided him into your mouth, your hands gripping the backs of his thighs as you relaxed your jaw. Sebastian balled your hair into his fist as he gazed downward to admire you as you worked.

“I love you so goddamn much,” he growled. 

You hummed a reply that sent vibrations around his cock, forcing a groan from him. His tip hit the back of your throat and you squeezed your own thumbs into your palms as you held him there for as long as you could stand it.

When your throat released him, you sucked your cheeks in hard as your lips returned to stroking his shaft. The storage room echoed with the sounds of your sins, punctuated by Sebastian’s grunts and moans. His reactions to your hungry mouth piqued your own arousal, your knees parted as you remained in a squat. 

You couldn't help but drop one hand between your own legs, your fingers coating themselves from the pool that had gathered at your entrance. You dipped a finger inside yourself, the warmth of your own core a stark contrast to the cool air of the dark storage room. 

You used your own fingers to dig at your ache, though they didn’t feel nearly as good as Sebastian’s. You willed yourself to remain patient as you focused on his pleasure, knowing damn well he’d never fail to return the favor.

You removed your soaked fingers and used that same hand to stroke Sebastian’s cock, the new moisture earning a groan from him. The sight of it all – his cock covered in a cocktail of your arousal and spit – was overwhelming.

He dipped his head backward, his eyes squeezed shut as he tugged your hair tighter. You’d come to learn that as a sign he was losing control.

You replaced your hand with your mouth, the taste of yourself spreading over the flesh of his length as you flattened your tongue against Sebastian’s shaft. It dragged up and over the tip, tracing teasing circles around the head. 

Sebastian panted harder, his lungs laboring as he dared to open his eyes again. You met them with your own gaze, your eyes watching him with wonder and lust. The vision of your doe-eyed stare and his cock disappearing into your mouth made him whimper, a sound that made your own core throb. 

You flicked your tongue and Sebastian tensed. Your hollowed cheeks began to sting, but you quickened your pace, your nails digging into the backs of his thighs as you relaxed your throat to gurgle around his tip at a frenetic rate.

A sharp, sudden pain seared over your scalp as Sebastian lost control, his fist yanking your hair and his hips thrusting forward as he finished. His climax hit the back of your throat, thick and hot, as your head continued to bob in determination to drain him completely. He grunted as his orgasm subsided, his sensitive cock twitching the remnants of his seed over your tongue.

His cock fell from your mouth as you swallowed, one hand still pressed into the back of his thigh while he caught his breath. Meanwhile, your anticipation seeped from your entrance, soaking through your panties. 

You sank to your knees, tired from your performance and aching for your own relief. You glanced upward at Sebastian, who gazed at you affectionately through heavy eyelids. He extended a hand to you to help you to your feet. You rose slowly, the motion crafting more pressure within your core.

Sebastian pulled you into a slow, deliberate kiss. His hand ventured between your thighs as he reveled in the wet warmth surrounding his fingers. He pushed you up onto the desk, your legs dangling from the edge as he stood between them and paused to kiss you again.

“Naughty naughty, you’ll get caughty!”

You gasped at the sudden intrusion as Sebastian spun to look for the source.

“Peeves!”

The poltergeist hovered in the doorway, laughing as he took in the scene. You straightened and slid off the desk, smoothing your clothes in an attempt to salvage some dignity while Sebastian hurriedly pulled his pants up.

“Wicked little seventh years, how shameful you are!” Peeves declared, though his eyes appeared to be laughing. 

“Get out, you perverse fucking voyeur!” Sebastian snapped. Peeves cackled. 

“Peeves knows this isn't the first time Sebastian Sallow has defiled the Restricted Section. Peeves will miss all this fun once the naughty seventh years graduate! Consider this secret his parting gift!”

He disappeared through the wall, his cackles echoing through the stone. Sebastian uttered a groan of disgust while your heart rate recovered from the abrupt imposition.

You heaved a sigh when Peeves’ laughter had faded. “Well, I suppose we’d better get back up there in case he actually sends someone to check,” you said. Sebastian was clearly still annoyed, but flashed you an apologetic grin.

“Sorry, darling,” he said as he hooked an arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

You held him to that promise as soon as you could.

---

Two days later, you and Sebastian relocated your study spot to a place that was much more private. The library was packed with students that day, including your ex-boyfriend who glared daggers at you the moment you walked in.

You felt bad for the way things ended with Andrew. He wasn’t a bad person but he’d been a bad boyfriend. He neglected you, dismissed your wants and needs and didn’t take you seriously. Still, he probably didn’t deserve the scene you caused when you broke up with him – not that it had been your idea. 

You had wanted to end the relationship quietly, but Sebastian practically skipped into the library with you on his arm minutes after you’d been moaning his name in the Room of Requirement. The two of you found Andrew sitting at that same study table and Sebastian marched you right up to him, where you told him the two of you were over. Then Sebastian paraded you into the Great Hall, you still wearing his sweater, where he didn’t bother to hide his affection for you during dinner. Afterward, you dragged him to the Undercroft for another round.

Sebastian found it hilarious when Andrew glowered at you in the library again, but you steered him back into the Central Hall to avoid any confrontation. You really did need to study that day. Your History of Magic exam was scheduled for the following morning and you were one of the many students who hadn’t paid much attention during class for the duration of the term.

But Ominis had banished you and Sebastian from the Undercroft for the week after he discovered the two of you in an obscene position the previous day. 

“The Undercroft ?” he had uttered in disbelief. “Is nothing sacred anymore?”

So today, you and Sebastian sat in the Room of Requirement, your stacks of spellbooks and scrolls scattered over a study table.

Sebastian had lost concentration ages ago. He twirled his wand in one hand while he watched you study. You’d already scolded him twice for being disruptive, and despite his mounting boredom, he knew your exams were important so he did his best to keep quiet.

After three hours of painfully mundane reading, you sighed and sat back in your chair, your eyes tired from straining over your textbooks.

“Ready for a break?” Sebastian asked eagerly. Your gaze drifted over his notes and you snorted as you studied the doodles and drawings he’d made on the edges of the parchment.

“Is that… Ominis?” you asked, squinting at one of the doodles.

“Riding a dragon, yes.”

You laughed and fiddled with your wand, appreciative of the comic relief. But Sebastian’s gaze had shifted and you immediately recognized the way his eyes were darkening with desire. They drifted to your chest, but you crossed your arms to obstruct his view.

“Sebastian…” you warned. “We need to study.”

“We’ve been studying!” he whined. “For three hours. Surely you could use a break. Wasn’t this the exact thing you were anguishing over just weeks ago with Larson?”

“Andrew went weeks without touching me,” you pointed out. “I just fucked you yesterday.”

“Feels like it’s been weeks.”

You rolled your eyes but crossed your legs beneath the table. You, too, were antsy with arousal, but were determined to assert your self-control this time. You’d given in to Sebastian every time until now – not that you’d needed any persuading. 

Sebastian leaned closer to you, his hand skimming the top of your knee beneath the table. He was challenging you. He knew your resistance was thin. But he didn’t know you were intent on affirming your power.

His thumb began tracing tiny circles against your thigh and you clenched your jaw. He seemed to notice the twitch in your facial expression because his puppy dog eyes lit up with amusement. Slowly, his hand snaked toward your entrance until two fingers gently brushed over the smooth fabric of your panties.

You fought to maintain a stoic expression, even as a finger pressed into your clit, but a hitch in your breath betrayed you. Sebastian smirked.

“No!” you said firmly as you snapped your knees together to force Sebastian’s hand away. “Sebastian, I want to study.”

“Judging from how wet you are, darling, I don’t think I believe you.”

You huffed an exhausted puff of air. “Okay, so maybe I don’t want to study, but I need to.”

“Do you need it as much as you need to come right now?”

Your eyes widened at his audacity, but you folded your arms in firm denial. “We can address that later,” you said, praying the pitch of your voice wouldn’t expose the filthy thoughts circulating inside your head.

But per usual, Sebastian saw right through you. He lounged backward in his chair, his legs stretched out as he continued to smirk. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that, darling?”

You scowled at him in annoyance and rose to your feet. A book in one hand and your wand in the other, you strode to the sofa that sat six feet away. Sebastian moved as if he were going to follow you, but you pointed your wand at him.

“Hey now! Watch where you point that thing!”

In one fluid flick, your wand emitted a milky haze of dancing white light. You cast a faint glowing line through the air between the table and the sofa until it stretched the entire length of the room. It glimmered and danced as you reached toward it with one palm open. Your hand recoiled against it, confirming that your barrier charm had worked.

Sebastian’s mouth fell open in protest.

“There,” you said indignantly. “Now there will be no temptations.”

“And just how do you expect to leave?” Sebastian demanded.

“The barrier should only last an hour or so, maybe even less. I think we’ll survive.”

Sebastian pouted in his chair as you settled onto the sofa with your book in your lap. You tucked your legs beneath yourself and continued your reading about the Warlocks' Convention of 1709.

In hindsight, choosing the most dreadfully boring subject to study while your boyfriend stared at you with bedroom eyes was probably a poor decision. Soon, your eyes glazed over and you realized you’d read the same page three times with no memory of its contents.

You looked up and were unsurprised to find Sebastian watching you. He quirked an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes in an attempt to feign disinterest. But you couldn’t resist the urge to sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye.

He looked so damn good that day. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, and his hair was particularly messy from waking up late that morning. You imagined those strong arms lifting you onto that study table, where you’d sprawl out as he stood and fucked you.

The image lingered in your head for just a moment too long, and you knew you were a goner.

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath, annoyed at Sebastian for trying to rile you up. He’d succeeded but now, you both were paying for it. It made you want to strangle him – as soon as you were done riding him into the ground.

But now that stupid barrier lingered between you, and there was no possible way you could wait for it to fall. You could already feel the swell mounting within your core. It made you shift on the sofa, the movement heightening the sensitivity between your legs.

The usual cool of the Room of Requirement felt suffocating. Your cheeks were starting to flush and you knew studying was a lost cause. As you stole another glance at Sebastian, who still lounged quietly in his chair with his legs stretched, you decided the least you could do was have some fun with your situation. Maybe next time, he’d think twice before distracting you – and for trying to challenge you.

You heaved a dramatic, audible sigh as you snapped your book shut. It went forgotten on the sofa next to you as you ran a slow, deliberate hand over your neck.

Sebastian watched you in guarded silence. Slowly, you began to unbutton your blouse, your fingers working carefully as you exposed more and more of your chest.

Sebastian straightened in his chair, sitting upright with his hands on his knees. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled. Your only reply was a silent, fleeting glance and a sinister smile.

Your blouse fell open and your legs followed suit. The hem of your skirt guarded your core, so you slowly hiked it up, pulling it backward to expose what lay beneath.

Sebastian already knew what was waiting. Your soaked panties covered your entrance. He let out a sharp exhale at the sight, his hands gripping his kneecaps as you ran a hand from your neck downward, dragging over one breast and across your stomach until it found the fabric protecting your cunt. Your legs opened wider. 

You gently ran a finger over your slit, the friction from the fabric provoking a low moan. You dared to look at Sebastian, who was looking positively distraught over the sight before him. 

Good.

You continued to rub your clothed entrance with two fingers until you decided your panties had become too restrictive. As Sebastian’s stare remained locked between your legs, you teased him by running a finger along the edge of the fabric.

“Please,” he rasped. You tugged your panties to the side. You could hear him whimper.

One finger dipped quickly inside your swollen cunt, the moisture coating it immediately. You pulled it out and your arousal glistened over your fingers. You used the moisture to coat your clit, your fingers gliding over the little bundle of nerves until the absence of something inside you was overwhelming.

You dabbed two fingers inside yourself and moaned as your walls clenched desperately around them. As you worked your own core, you sank lower into the sofa, your legs spread wide and your teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

Sebastian dropped his head backward for a moment, his face contorted in absolute anguish as he stared at the ceiling for a moment. It almost appeared as if he was in pain.

The sounds of you fucking yourself echoed, exposing your act to the poor portraits lining the walls. Your moans filled the room. You dug desperately inside yourself, your fingers beckoning and coaxing a release, the cadence of your breathy moans reflecting your nearing climax.

Sebastian’s hands were gripping the seat of his chair, his knuckles bright white as he watched. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost .

He swiped at his face with his hand, as if he were trying to stifle another whimper. The peak in his pants looked positively painful. You couldn’t help but feel impressed that he had managed to refrain from any attempts to relieve his own arousal. 

But your dripping need was more important. Finally, your eyes fell shut and you had to picture Sebastian’s face as you became too immersed in the heat that was coursing between your legs.

“Mmm, I’m going to come, Seb,” you managed to whine. He swore under his breath.

With your eyes squeezed shut and your walls squeezed even tighter, your fingers drove at your sweet spot and your palm dragged against your clit. You moved with vigor despite your tiring arm. 

Finally, you knew you were close. You wanted to sneak one more glance at Sebastian. You knew he was positively reeling. But you were feeling too selfish and too needy; your release was too demanding.

So instead, you moaned his name. It was followed with a grating cry that had formed deep in your throat. You came so hard, it felt like your walls were pounding around your fingers. You held them in place, clutching at yourself as you tried to prolong the sensation.

When it finally subsided, your heart was still pounding and your eyes peeled open. The room took a moment to fall into focus, but through the haze, you could see Sebastian’s form. 

He slumped in his chair, shoulders forward and knees bent. He looked positively miserable, as if he’d been dragged through absolute hell. 

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you… do you want to… take your turn?”

“No. I… don’t need to.”

Your eyes fell to his lap. “Oh.”

Now, you were feeling torn between guilt and pride; remorseful for making your poor boyfriend sit through such a sinful act; proud of the clear power you held over him. But this was his fault. You were perfectly content on studying until he decided to exhibit such feral behavior. You were simply matching his conduct. And now you knew you could make him come without even touching him.

But you were also physically spent. The magic barrier continued to glimmer across the room as you redressed yourself. Sebastian watched you quietly, his expression sedated and sleepy.

You nearly laughed as you realized he looked more spent than you did. But even the relief you had given yourself could never match the absolute euphoria of Sebastian’s touch. You already found yourself wanting it as soon as possible.

With time to spare as you waited for the barrier to fade, you tried to return to your reading. But now, your prior tension was replaced with a sluggish post-orgasm haze that made you drowsy. So instead, you curled up on the sofa with your head on the arm rest, asleep within minutes.

A gentle nudge pulled you from your nap. You sat up to find Sebastian lounging on the sofa next to you. 

“Seb?”

“Hey, darling.”

“How long was I asleep?”

Sebastian consulted his pocket watch. “Little over two hours.”

“Two hours ? Why did you let me sleep that long?”

“You looked like you needed it. Especially after that grand… performance you put on.”

Your cheeks flushed and you noticed Sebastian was wearing a new pair of trousers. “Did you… where did-”

“I went back to my dorm to change,” Sebastian explained. His cool, calm demeanor caught you off guard. You had been certain he’d be eager to ravish – or punish – you for your earlier antics. “Dinner’s going to start soon. You hungry?”

“I should be studying,” you groaned as you realized you had wasted an entire afternoon. The History of Magic exam was tomorrow.

“I’ll tell you what, love. How about we go grab some dinner and then you can study in peace and quiet. I’ll use the time to visit Anne,” Sebastian offered.

You blinked at him, your suspicion raised instantly. “Visit Anne,” you repeated blankly.

“Yes, Anne. You know, my sister?”

Something didn’t feel right. You knew Sebastian. You’d spent the past two weeks attached at the hip – literally and figuratively – and you couldn’t believe he’d be willing to spend the evening apart so willingly.

“You’re not going to punish me?” you asked stupidly. “For earlier?”

Sebastian barked a laugh. “What for, darling? How could I possibly be upset about having such an independent girlfriend?”

“Independent?”

“Yes, independent. Clearly you can take care of yourself. You don’t need me.”

Ah, there it was. His gameplay. You knew he wouldn’t let you off the hook. He was going to withhold sex from you as punishment. He’d seen how you agonized when Andrew had denied you for weeks, but he knew this would be much worse. You liked Andrew but you loved Sebastian. You’d spent the past two weeks absolutely enamored by the way he ruined you. 

This would become a game; a contest to see who could pretend to care less. And you’d give it your best performing act. Because you knew Sebastian, too. He was merely a man; a man who couldn’t contain himself at the mere sight of you falling apart hours earlier. 

So instead of protesting, you flashed him your prettiest smile and draped your arms around him in a hug, feigning gratitude for a night off.

—

Your gratitude was short-lived. You went to bed alone that night, tired after an evening of actual studying in the Room of Requirement by yourself. But by midnight, you were tossing and turning in distress over the excruciating ache that had returned between your legs.

Sebastian sauntered into the Great Hall the next morning and pressed a kiss to your temple as he slid into the seat next to you.

“Get all your studying done?” he asked casually.

“I know more about the outlawing of dragon breeding than I know the back of my hand,” you sighed. “How’s Anne?”

“She’s good,” Sebastian answered as he heaped a pile of eggs onto his plate. “I, uh… told her about us.”

You froze mid-bite into a slice of pineapple. “You did?”

“Relax,” Sebastian chuckled. “She’s thrilled for us. I knew she would be. She claims she knew all along that we’d end up together.”

You spent the remainder of breakfast quizzing each other for your exams, but beneath the table, you squirmed, annoyed that Sebastian had managed to appear so nonchalant over your lack of intimacy the previous night. What you didn’t know was that he’d spent the later hours of the evening relieving himself – twice – at the memory of what you’d done in the Room of Requirement.

The day’s exams didn’t end until late afternoon, meaning you didn’t see Sebastian again until dinner. You were dissecting the answers to the Arithmancy exam with Imelda Reyes when Sebastian appeared, lowering himself across from you.

“Survive that Muggle Studies exam, Sallow?” Imelda asked. 

“Easily,” Sebastian answered as he shifted his gaze to you.

“How was History of Magic?” he asked.

“Dreadful, but I think I aced it,” you answered.

“That’s my girl.”

Imelda rolled her eyes and redirected the conversation to her upcoming tryout with the Montrose Magpies. 

You listened to the details, genuinely happy your friend was close to securing her dream, but you couldn’t avert your eyes from Sebastian who was watching you quietly. When your eyes locked, he reached for an apple from the bowl on the table.

You narrowed your eyes in a silent quizzical stare as Imelda rambled on, her voice fading to a background hum as Sebastian took a slow and deliberate bite from the apple. His jaw closed and you could practically hear him sucking the juice from the apple’s skin. He chewed carefully and swallowed before he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes still on yours.

Your hips shifted in your seat. Sebastian noticed and smirked. 

You spent the remainder of the meal pretending Imelda’s quidditch tryout was the most fascinating thing you’d ever heard.

Students spent that evening enjoying the extended curfew that only came during exam week. Many lingered in the Great Hall while others scattered across the school grounds to take advantage of the warm evening. The rest retreated to the library to continue their studying.

You, however, didn’t make it down the steps to the Viaduct Courtyard before Sebastian was steering you toward the dungeons.

You greeted the few familiar faces in the Slytherin Common Room until Sebastian impatiently prodded you with his knee. After ascending the steps to the boys’ dormitories, he ushered you inside his room and kicked the door shut. The room was empty, his roommates likely out enjoying the evening, and you couldn’t wait to enjoy yours.

“Thought you were going to make me wait,” you teased as you slid yourself backward onto the bed, your legs dangling off the side.

“That was me making you wait,” Sebastian growled. You snorted.

“Seb, that was one day,” you noted.

“And that was more than enough.”

His admission that he couldn’t bear more than one day without burying himself inside you was exhilarating.

Sebastian all but dove for you, his hands clawing at your shoes and tights. Your skirt and panties followed until only your blouse and bra remained. 

Sebastian groaned at the sight of your entrance, which was already slick with anticipation. His arms hooked around your legs, yanking you to the edge of the bed.

“You’ve been fucking killing me,” he whined as he lowered himself between your legs.

A low, slow sigh left your lips the moment his tongue made contact with your entrance. He lapped at you in so much earnest, you could feel his breaths against your swollen skin.

He planted a kiss to your clit before a finger teased your folds. Your hips rocked in agony, your cunt desperate to swallow any part of Sebastian he’d allow. 

Two fingers sank into you and you instantly scolded yourself for thinking your own hands were worth a damn while in the Room of Requirement the previous day. Nothing felt as good as Sebastian. 

You moaned as you stretched around his fingers, your wet arousal making him hiss. 

“Fucking hell.”

He pulled his hand away and you whimpered in protest, though your frustration was short-lived as you watched him suck his fingers. It was an erotic vision that made your nipples harden.

“Better than any stupid apple,” he murmured. And his mouth returned to you again.

Fists balled the bed covers in your hands as your back sank deeper into the bed while you lifted your hips and gasped for more; more pressure, more relief, more Sebastian. His tongue teased your clit until his entire mouth was around your entrance, sucking at your flesh.

“Fuck, Seb. I’m so close.”

You could feel his tongue flatten over your clit in brisk swipes. The sound that vibrated from your throat was more of a pulsing hum than a moan as your eyes clamped shut, your focus drilled on the edge of your looming orgasm.

“Seb, I’m going to c-”

And then, silence. The pressure and heat was gone in an instant and your eyes shot open. Sebastian loomed over you, his glistening lips parted in a smug grin.

It was infuriating. You were splayed out, exposed and vulnerable, and your boyfriend had the audacity to tease and torture you. You wanted to curse him, hex him and pummel him with your fists.

But the best you could manage was a sharp, pained whine. And Sebastian, that cruel, conniving prick, responded with a short and maniacal laugh.

You glared, your cheeks flushed and your entrance seeping, determined to get your release. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d just have to be an independent woman.

Your hand snapped to your entrance, fingers working frantically. It caught Sebastian off guard and he moved quickly to pin your hands to the bed above your head. You kicked your feet and he forced himself on top of you, more weight pushing your wrists downward into the mattress.

“Not yet,” he growled. “You’re going to wait for me. Understand?” You nodded in compliance. 

Sebastian didn’t speak as he returned to his feet. You watched with dark eyes as he reached for his belt, the buckle clinking softly as it released. His pants dropped to the floor, followed by his boxers. He slid his shirt overhead and stepped out of the heap of clothes on the floor, his erection bobbing as he moved.

He crawled over you again, one of his knees deliberately placed between your thighs, inches from your entrance. One hand worked slowly at the buttons of your blouse, addressing them one-by-one until your chest was exposed. 

That same hand snaked its way beneath you, fingers fiddling with the clasp of your bra until it snapped apart, your breasts falling from its hold. Sebastian helped you from your shirt and bra, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

“So fucking perfect,” he said. You shifted miserably beneath him. 

He lowered his mouth to your right breast, his tongue tracing slowly over your nipple. The bed creaked as his knee shifted closer, pressing itself against your cunt. You whimpered, certain that your body was going to catch fire.

Sebastian cupped your breast, pressing a trail of kisses to your neck where you could feel him smiling into your skin. His knee twitched and he snorted against the crook of your neck.

“You are so fucking wet,” he laughed. 

You narrowed your eyes in ire, but the pressure of skin against your entrance was intoxicating. You couldn’t help yourself. You bucked your hips, grinding your folds against Sebastian’s leg.

He looked ecstatic. 

“And I thought I was a pathetic mess in the Room of Requirement yesterday,” he mused as he gazed down at you. “But look at you, trying to fall apart against my fucking leg .”

If it hadn’t been for the students lounging in the Common Room below, you would have screamed. Or murdered him.

Sebastian pulled away to stand over you, the cool room coursing over your skin without his warmth.

“You know,” Sebastian murmured. “All you have to do is ask nicely.”

“Please,” you breathed. Your chest heaved and your hips rocked against nothing. It was shameful but you were void of any dignity now.

“That’s better.” You couldn’t help but pout at him and he grinned. “You know, darling, I don’t like making you wait either. My self-restraint has been hanging by a thread all day.”

“Then stop making me wait,” you growled. “ Please .”

Hearing you beg with authority was his final undoing. Sebastian liked to dominate you, but he liked your fiery attitude even more. It was what made him fall so stupidly in love with you in the first place. 

He pushed your legs apart and stood between them, his eyes drinking in the way your body was laid out for him, your breasts bouncing with every movement. 

The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance and you moaned in relief as you felt it settle inside you, pushing and stretching you until you were filled.

“I have to say,” Sebastian panted as he paused to allow your walls to adjust to his size. “I quite like the view from up here. Can’t wait to watch you fall apart beneath me.”

“Then hurry the fuck up,” you hissed. Sebastian beamed at you.

He started slow, pulling his cock until the head lingered near the folds of your entrance before he rocked his hips forward, sinking into you until he was fully sheathed again. His plan had been to tease you like this for quite some time, with leisurely, deliberate strokes slow enough that you’d feel every inch of his cock parting your walls. But reality was quite sobering. Soon, Sebastian’s restraint shattered and he was pumping into you at a short, steady pace, his eyes glued to the spot where you were connected. 

“My god,” he choked. The view of your cunt swallowing his length repeatedly turned his brain to mush, but nothing had prepared him for the sight of your wet arousal coating his shaft.

Your moans filled the room, your hands gripping and squeezing your nipples. Sebastian grunted at the sight of you playing with your own breasts, an erotic vision straight from years of his fantasies. 

“God, you take me so well,” he moaned, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled your body into his thrusts.

You were teetering on the edge of ruin, your nerves heightened from the edging Sebastian had given you with his tongue moments ago. He reached down to trace circles over your clit, the extra source of sensation pushing you through the threshold.

“Sebastian!” The cry of his name preceded a sharp gasp as the swelling wave inside you crashed. Your toes curled and your back arched as your walls spasmed and grasped around Sebastian’s cock. 

Sebastian pressed the tip of his cock hard into your sweet spot, coaxing more moisture that dripped down his length while you orgasmed. He held it there until you were done crumbling around him.

“You’re fucking perfect when you come,” Sebastian croaked. He reached for your ankles and pulled them together, lifting them into the air to rest against his shoulder.

He regained a steady rhythm of thrusts, the new position squeezing your tight heat around him. His cock drove upward, drilling hard until you were certain you were too sensitive to handle him.

Sebastian’s grip tightened around your ankles, his thrusts falling out of sync as he began to unravel. The smacking sound reverberated off the walls. But you were too selfish to allow him to quit just yet.

“Seb, I’m close,” you moaned.

Sebastian grunted. “Going to come for me again so soon?” he managed.

“Yes, please. Please .”

His jaw was clenched so tight you feared it would crack, but his cock pounded your cunt harder. The pitch of your moans drifted higher and higher until the peak of the noise matched the peak inside your core. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” Sebastian coughed just as your final orgasm tore through your insides. You came so hard, you arched off the bed, your ankles digging downward into Sebastian’s shoulder as you cried out. His knees would have buckled beneath the force if he hadn’t tensed from his own climax, his body going rigid as his cock twitched. He groaned through the sensation until he used your leg to pull your body flush against himself with one final slam, spurting his release inside you.

He remained there, though he was barely able to stand as you wondered if your skeleton had vacated your body. 

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian panted. “Let’s never go that long without each other again.”

“Agreed,” you murmured.

And before you could move apart, the dormitory door swung open and Ominis strode in. He froze dead in his tracks, the tip of his wand glowing vibrant red as he analyzed the scene before him.

“Are you two fucking serious?!”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

blanket and babbling

mattheo riddle x single mom!reader where he charms you and benjamin to sleep

↬ word count : 1,138 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : mattheo being utterly swoon-worthy, extreme fluff and softness

↬ au part? : yes ➺ ♡

navigation┆mattheo riddle masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

You had barely slept the night before, your four-month-old son, Benjamin, fussing without his favorite blanket. “Blankie,” as you’d affectionately started calling it, had been his comfort since birth—a soft, pale blue swaddle that always seemed to soothe him. Without it, his cries were louder, his little fists clenching as if protesting the universe itself for taking it away.

When the doorbell rang the next morning, you nearly jumped. Benjamin was balanced on your hip, hiccuping softly after another restless night, and you were in no state to see anyone. Your hair was barely tamed, and you were still in your oversized hoodie and leggings, but you shuffled to the door anyway.

“Hi,” came a voice that instantly drew your attention.

You blinked, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. There stood Mattheo, his dark curls slightly tousled and his leather jacket slung over one shoulder. His brown eyes sparkled with something soft, and in his hand—oh, in his hand—was Blankie.

“I think this belongs to someone,” he said, his lips quirking into a sheepish grin as he held the blanket up.

Your mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

“The driver recognized me,” Mattheo continued, his voice almost apologetic, as if he was nervous. “She handed it to me this morning, said it might belong to a baby she’d seen on my route. I figured it was probably your little guy.”

At the sight of his blanket, Benjamin perked up instantly, letting out a loud, happy gurgle that made Mattheo’s grin widen.

“Oh, my God,” you finally managed, stepping aside to let him in. “You have no idea how much you just saved me. Come in—please, I owe you coffee or something.”

Mattheo hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside, his presence filling the small space. He handed over Blankie, and Benjamin immediately latched onto it, clutching the fabric with his tiny fists and pulling it close to his face.

“See, Benny?” you cooed, bouncing him lightly. “The nice man brought back your Blankie. Can you say thank you?”

Benjamin burbled nonsense in response, but his delighted smile felt like gratitude enough.

Mattheo chuckled, his voice low and warm. “He’s got good taste. That’s a nice blanket. Super soft.” He reached out and lightly brushed the fabric, as if testing it himself.

You laughed, motioning toward the living room. “Well, Blankie is his prized possession. Sit down—I’ll make coffee. It’s the least I can do after what you’ve done for us.”

Mattheo followed you into the cozy space, his hands shoved into his pockets. He sat on the edge of the couch, glancing around with a curious but polite expression. His attention shifted back to Benjamin, who was now happily gnawing on the corner of Blankie.

“So,” Mattheo said as you bustled around the kitchen, “you’re raising this little legend on your own?”

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling softly. “Yeah, just me and Benny. It’s been a lot, but moments like this make it worth it.”

Mattheo nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You’re doing great. He looks like a happy kid.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. As you handed him a mug of coffee, you noticed how naturally he seemed to fit into your space—leaning back on the couch with Benjamin gazing up at him curiously.

Time seemed to fly as you and Mattheo sat together in the living room, Benjamin happily occupying himself with Blankie and the occasional attention from his newfound friend. The conversation was light and easy, punctuated by Benjamin’s occasional giggles as Mattheo made silly faces or tapped his tiny nose.

But eventually, the little boy’s eyes started to droop.

“Nap time?” Mattheo asked, noticing Benjamin rubbing his eyes with a tiny fist.

“Supposed to be,” you sighed, already anticipating the battle. “But he’s been extra stubborn lately. He just doesn’t want to miss anything.”

You scooped Benjamin up, cradling him as you tried your usual routine—gentle rocking, soothing shushing sounds—but he fussed and squirmed, letting out small, insistent cries.

Mattheo stood, his hands on his hips. “Alright, little man,” he said, his voice light but determined. “You and I are going to have a talk about naps.”

You blinked at him, surprised but amused as he reached out to take Benjamin. “You sure?”

Mattheo nodded confidently. “I’ve got this.”

You hesitated but handed Benjamin over, watching in awe as Mattheo settled him against his chest. He started pacing the living room, humming softly—a tune you didn’t recognize but found oddly comforting.

Benjamin stared up at him, wide-eyed at first, but his tiny body gradually relaxed. Mattheo’s deep voice mixed with the rhythm of his steps, and within minutes, your son’s eyelids fluttered closed.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You’re a miracle worker,” you whispered, your voice full of awe and gratitude.

Mattheo grinned, his voice low so as not to disturb Benjamin. “It’s all about confidence. Babies can smell fear.”

You laughed softly as he carefully laid Benjamin in his crib, making sure Blankie was tucked snugly by his side.

When he turned back to you, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to you. “You’re amazing,” you murmured, sinking onto the couch. “Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you today.”

Mattheo chuckled, sitting down beside you. “Happy to help.”

The warmth of the moment, combined with the quiet of the room, was too much for your tired body. You had no idea when your eyes drifted shut, but the next thing you knew, you felt the soft weight of a blanket being draped over you.

You stirred slightly, opening your eyes just enough to see Mattheo crouching beside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his hand lightly shaking your shoulder. “I’m heading out. Didn’t want to just disappear.”

You sat up quickly, suddenly wide awake. “Oh, Mattheo, thank you so much—for everything. Seriously, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

He smiled, brushing a curl out of his face. “It’s no problem. I’m glad I could help. You’ve got a great kid there.”

You stood, walking him to the door. “Feel free to come by any time,” you said earnestly, your cheeks warming slightly. “I mean it. You’re welcome here whenever.”

Mattheo looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before a soft smile spread across his face. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice warm.

As he stepped out into the hallway, he turned back one last time. “Take care of yourself, okay? And let me know if you ever need anything.”

You nodded, watching as he disappeared down the stairs. When you closed the door and turned back to the peaceful silence of the apartment, you found yourself smiling.

It wasn’t just Benjamin who had been comforted that day.

[dollfacefantasy]

TELL ME WHEN YOU HEAR MY HEART STOP ♡

pairing: naoya zen'in x fem!reader

summary: today's a very special day for you and naoya, and he plans to celebrate it with a very special gift.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, stockholm syndrome, p in v, fingering, breeding kink, puppy play, misogyny, mentions of spanking, corporal punishment, and psychological torture stuff

a/n: birthday gift for my sweet wonderful friend who i love so very much @nexysworld <3 also!! imagine naoya as a few years older than his canon age for the timeline in this story to work.

“Naoya taking a wife… I never thought I’d see the day.”

The sound of Jinichi’s voice speaking his name drew Naoya’s attention to the two men walking several feet ahead of him on the stone path. His golden eyes flitted from the blue sky above to the pair of them, narrowing as he focused on hearing the next part of the conversation.

“It’s not that shocking,” Ogi replied, “He’s the future head of the clan. There’s no way Naobito would let him fail to produce an heir. Even if the old man had to find some bitch to pay off, the kid was always going to get married.”

“That’s true, but don’t you find it the least bit odd? Seeing him at events with some girl on his arm now? Before, he could never shut up about how the women shouldn’t even be allowed at those things. To be honest with you, I always thought he swung the other way,” Jinichi added.

“Well, yeah. But look at her. If he was ever gonna wed a woman, it was gonna be one like her. Quiet as a mouse. Moves through rooms like a scrap of silk in the wind. Doesn’t go anywhere without him,” Ogi reasoned.

“I don’t think that’s her choice,” the other man quipped.

Ogi shrugged. “Maybe not, but she goes along with it. I only wonder if she’s always been so naturally obedient or if the kid beat it into her.”

Gritting his teeth, Naoya had enough of listening to this. He sped up to catch his relatives. Once within arm’s length, he laid a hand upon Jinichi’s shoulder and pulled him around. His lips curled into a sneer upon making eye contact.

The sudden tug shocked the older Zen’in, his brows raising and lips pausing around the word they had been forming. Ogi followed his direction and came to face the future head of the clan as well. The three of them stood there for a moment. Naoya let them have a few seconds to register that he’d heard their conversation.

“I’ve never thought of either of you as intelligent, but I thought you smarter than thinking it was acceptable to disparage your future clan leader out in the open like this,” he said.

“Our words weren’t intended to be negative, Naoya. We didn’t mean to upset you,” Jinichi started.

“Because you didn’t think I would hear,” he shot back.

From the looks on the two faces in front of him, it was clear the men weren’t afraid of Naoya. That irritated him of course. He wanted all of them to fear him, to feel that if they so much as put him in a bad mood, they would suffer. But the emotion he did see on their features satisfied him enough to prevent that from being a pressing issue.

The gleam in both Jinichi and Ogi’s eyes told him they respected his rank. They may hate him and believe him to be nothing more than Naobito’s spoiled-rotten son, but they accepted the fact that there was nothing they could do about it. And he almost liked that more.

“But really? The implication that I have to lay hands on my betrothed to receive her submission wasn’t meant to be an insult?” he mocked, “The idea that my father would have to pay some woman to be my wife wasn’t said to demean me? I don’t believe that for a second.”

“They were just jokes,” Ogi defended, “How you deal with your woman is your business.”

“Oh, I know it is. How I discipline her is of no concern to you, but do you really think I would have chosen someone so unruly to spend my life with?” he questioned.

“It’s just that you have such high standards-” Jinichi stated.

“I do have high standards. And she meets every single one,” Naoya cut him off, “You two don’t have to explain any further. I’ve already decided to forgive you because I know the root of all of this is jealousy. Ogi, I can tell you wish there was some way you could trade in your wife for mine. Someone young and fresh. Eager and passionate. Not dried up and drained of any personality from more than a decade of dealing with you.

“And Jinichi. Have you ever even been with a girl? I’m sure if my wife took the time to so much as smile at you, she’d have you trailing her like a drooling dog. So please, spare me your judgements about her being ‘quiet’ or shy or whatever you think. There simply isn’t much to say when the company is made up of people like you two,” he finished.

The both of them blinked at Naoya in return, unsure of what to say in response to the scathing words. Arguing would probably cause a blow up that would draw the attention of Naobito, but cowering would inflate the young man’s already super-sized ego. Luckily for them, Naoya continued speaking before they had to make a decision.

“Either way, it’s all water under the bridge. I know you two won’t make this mistake again,” he smiled, “But in case you need the reminder, don’t ever utter the word ‘bitch’ in a discussion about my wife. And if I hear you calling me kid again, you’ll find yourself feeling sorely out of place when I take mine as head of this clan.”

This time Naoya didn’t bother waiting for a potential reply before pushing through them and continuing his walk. The pathway fell into serene silence now that it wasn’t polluted by their annoying chatter. Birds chirped in the trees above while a gentle Spring breeze rustled the hedges on either side of him.

He let out a soft sigh as he turned a corner as his shared suite came into view in the distance. Never did Naoya think he’d see the day where he defended a woman so valiantly. Though that was the crux of why he did it he supposed. You weren’t just some woman. You were his. His bride-to-be, his beloved, his special girl. The only person of the female persuasion he’d let walk one pace behind him instead of three.

God, it was ridiculous. Even thinking of you now made his heart race. He envisioned your sweet, sparkling eyes. Your cute lips that tasted like the richest wine in the world. That luscious body below that gave him wet dreams like he was a horny teenager.

He sighed, longing for you even though he’d be in your presence in a matter of seconds. No matter how often he saw you, it seemed it was never enough. If he could, he’d blow off all his duties around here and stay with you for the entire day.

Opening the miniature gates to his suite, he walked across the paved path to a small wooden staircase. He headed up the three steps and finally reached the doorway that would lead to you.

Upon entering his home, he slipped off his shoes and took a glance in the nearby mirror to make sure his hair was in place. On the thin end table against the wall was a pile of wedding invitations. The sight of them brought a smirk to his lips. Save the date! Mr. and Mrs. Zen’in would like to invite you… scrawled in elegant calligraphy and bordered in gold trim.

“Sweetheart, I’m home,” he called through the house.

He waited a few seconds for the sound of you rushing towards him. That phrase served the same purpose as a whistle to a trained hound. He’d taught you well over the last year. Everyday when he said those words, he could count on you to come to him, to ask about his day, and check on what he needed.

Only today, he didn’t hear the pitter-patter of your footsteps.

His eyebrow raised. In an instant, his body tensed, his lips set into a scowl. He tried telling himself you could be temporarily occupied. Maybe you were taking a bath or had fallen asleep for an afternoon nap. You could just be watching tv or listening to some music that muffled the sound of his voice.

He knew it was probably one of those, but his mind couldn’t help going to the worst place. That you had escaped.

His fist clenched by his sides. He bit the inside of his cheek. Walking further into your shared home, his eyes glanced around to look for any immediate signs of your departure. So far there was nothing. All the furniture was in place, no windows had been left ajar, one of your jackets draped across the back of an armchair.

She knows better now, he thought to himself. Last time you’d tried leaving two months ago, he had hoped it would be the last time. He’d caught you tumbling from the bedroom window while coming home to fetch a paper he’d forgotten. If he found out you’d pulled the vanishing act again today, he’d make the fury he’d felt in that moment seem like minor irritation.

When you tried leaving out the window, the two of you had locked eyes as you clambered off the ground. It would have been kind of cute if he wasn’t so pissed, the way he could see the realization in your eyes that you had majorly fucked up. You tried running, but Naoya was fast. He had you by the back of the neck in seconds, his nails digging into your tender skin.

“My little puppy felt like exploring outside her crate, hm?” he’d asked with barely constrained rage, “You know you’re supposed to ask for permission to do that. You’re not allowed to wander on your own yet.”

Naoya always ended his rules in yet even though he wasn’t sure if he actually planned on ever giving you the freedoms he currently forbade. A small part of him believed that the false hope would inspire your obedience better than direct punishments would. Not that it stopped him from giving you regular punishment though. That day he dragged you back into the house and spanked you till your ass was raw. You wouldn’t have been able to run for a light jog after that. It left you crying for nearly a whole day, so he had hoped it would have been a lasting lesson.

He continued to prowl through the house like a fox hunting its prey. Gliding into the kitchen, he again saw nothing out of the ordinary. You even had the oven on. He wanted that to be enough to put him at ease, but he couldn’t let himself relax. You might have left it on intending to burn the house down.

From there he slipped into the hall. You weren’t in any of the rooms off that walkway, so he headed for the stairs. He moved up them in silence. If you were still here, he didn’t want you to know his exact location. Paranoia had fully taken root. It wasn’t just escape that worried him now. Maybe you had figured out that never worked. You could have graduated to planning an attack. That wouldn’t work either, but he wouldn’t put it past you. For all the times you’d wailed about wanting to kill him, he didn’t believe logic factored into these little rebellions.

God, what if you had found the propofol in his nightstand. He kept it unlabeled, but you’d probably recognize that milky liquid by now. You could have found the syringes in his sock drawer too while doing the laundry.

Shit. Shit. Shit. You could be waiting, tucked behind a corner, ready to jab him in the throat like he’d done to you a year ago. In his defense though, you actually needed it. You were so upset that night, it bordered on hysterical. He’d come over to keep you company because even though he’d only been with you for a year, he’d known you much longer.

You were Toji’s girlfriend.

He’d met you while trying to track him down years before. The day he spotted you, his eyes had been trying to find his older cousin on a crowded city street. Instead they landed on you. Back then, you had a real baby face. Your eyes shined under the rays like they'd never known a cloudy day. The delicate daylight made your skin glow and your features appear softer. He felt drawn to you. It was like fate that you happened to be hanging off Toji’s arm.

Naoya had become friends with both of you. Hanging out with Toji was great because he was Toji. Naoya would have had fun with him if they just sat there and stared at each other. But shocking to everyone including himself, he actually liked you. He acted polite towards you, friendly even. He naturally smiled when you laughed. His eyes watched you during conversation. He took interest in the things you said.

In his mind, he maintained that he still didn’t like the company of women for the most part. But if Toji took an interest in you, there must have been something that made you worthwhile.

He fell in love with you silently. It was a feeling he never planned to act on. He would never betray his cousin like that. Instead, he’d just observe you in awe from a distance. He’d resign himself to only being your friend. Cousin-in-law if it came to that.

But then Toji died.

It left you devastated. Naoya felt hollowed out too, of course. He never thought he’d see Toji die. Part of him didn’t even believe that was possible. But even in comparison to his shock and grief and despair, you took it really hard.

You pulled away from him. Gaps between his visits transformed from days to weeks to months. You never outright told him you didn’t want him around. Your offers to play video games just dried up. You didn’t start conversations anymore, only offering minimal reactions to what he said. Most days you were busy taking extra shifts at work and on weekends you were hanging out with your own friends who Naoya “didn’t know.”

He followed you to a couple of these outings after feeling like he was going crazy experiencing withdrawal from you. Only he didn’t find “friends.” He found you, alone at the bar, getting yourself wasted until some guy would take you home with him and leave you feeling more empty than before.

After that, Naoya decided it was his duty to intervene. He would never have betrayed Toji for you, but now that Toji was gone, he would be what you needed. His cousin would want that, someone to protect you and make you feel loved. Someone to prevent you from destroying yourself in your sadness.

So on the anniversary of Toji’s death, he came to visit you. The two of you talked in short, tension-filled sentences. He could feel the guilt dripping from your every word. It was awkward, and he didn’t try making it any easier. Soon enough, as he expected, you pulled out something to drink to soothe your nerves and make the evening tolerable. And with the liquor came your tears.

It was easy really, corralling you to his chest and rubbing your back, whispering I’ve got you over and over. Then one little prick and you were out cold against him in less than a minute.

You weren’t too happy when you woke up the next afternoon in a place you didn’t recognize. His bedroom was much nicer than your apartment. Luxury furnishings adorned the space while expensive blankets covered your sluggish form. The upgrade in surroundings did little to convince you though.

When he came in to explain to you your new circumstances, you listened quietly at first. He thought for a second that it might all go smoothly, that you would see the value in him taking care of you. But then he got to the part about becoming his wife and bearing the next generation of Zen’ins… and you didn’t seem so on board with all of that.

Now, his heart pounded in his ears as he reached the top of the stairs. 

The first few months of your training had been rough, but he honestly thought he’d made great progress with you. All the fighting and yelling and crying broke you down quite a bit. The period of sleep deprivation helped as well. And of course, you’d done great for that couple weeks he’d kept you on a leash. You’d still have your bratty moments every now and then, but overall, you were doing much better now. You’d come so far and learned your place. Just sometimes, you forgot that he knew what was best for you.

And he wasn’t evil. He could be understanding. Going from your life of reckless independence to being taken care of by someone so responsible would be a big change, especially for such an emotional little thing like you. That’s why he only punished for actual disrespect.

He hoped that wasn’t what this was right now. Today was a special day. He planned to come home with open arms for you, not a raised belt. But like always, he would do what he had to.

Cautiously, he ventured through the second floor of your house back towards the bedroom. Once he was within a few feet of the door, he could hear some rustling. Finally some indication that you were still in the house. He let out a breath, but his muscles stayed taut. You could be trying to slip out the window again, prying off the nails he’d tacked through the sill.

His shaking hand landed on the door, his fingertips giving it a light push to knock it open. He braced himself, ready for the worst possible scenario. His plan wouldn’t change. Your compliance was the only variable in this situation.

He came into the bedroom and scanned around for trouble. You weren’t at the window or rummaging through his nightstand like he’d feared. You weren’t crouched at the foot of the bed, poised for an attack. Rather, he saw the closet doors open. That was where the noise was coming from.

Crossing the room, he peered between the double doors. Now his body could finally relax. He let out a deep breath and ran his hand over his face. Inside, you were there, safe and sound and not trying to escape. You were on your hands and knees, ducking beneath a shelf as if trying to find something. It seemed like you were having some trouble. Soft grunts fell from your lips and your hips wiggled as you tried to reach further. He couldn’t help noticing the way your back arched in this position along with your hips squirming. His pants felt a little tighter while watching you struggle, but he could deal with that in a few minutes. He cleared his throat to get your attention.

“There you are,” he said.

At the sound of his voice, your head shot up, knocking into the shelf above you.

“Ow,” you squeaked before pulling yourself free and sitting up. Your eyes looked up at him, wide and nervous. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He laughed at your little mishap before walking over to you and patting your head. “It’s alright,” he said, running his fingers along your scalp. 

His sweet puppy. Obedient just as he’d hoped. You deserved more credit than he gave you it seemed. He couldn’t let you totally off the hook for not meeting him at the door though. That was how bad habits formed. 

“Though maybe you shouldn’t start cleaning out the closet around the time I’m usually home.”

You nodded without protest before rising to your feet and tucking yourself to his side, your cheek squishing against the crisp fabric of his shirt.

“How was your day?” you asked. Your voice sounded meeker than usual, but he supposed you still feared the possibility of getting in trouble.

He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. “It was fine. Nothing special,” he said with a shrug. He began walking you out of the closet and back into the main part of the bedroom. “What were you looking for in there?”

“Today those people came over to fit me for the wedding dress, and while I had it on, I remembered these shoes I have that would go with it. I was just trying to find them, so I could ask if you liked them,” you answered.

A perfect answer in his book. You were looking for something in regards to the wedding, and not only that, but you planned on asking him for his opinion on it. It made his heart soar.

His fingers coasted up and swept below your chin, making you look up at him. As your jaw tilted upwards, his eyes fell to your neck. More specifically, the tight piece of material wrapped around your neck.

Your collar.

Just looking at it had Naoya’s cock stirring in his pants. He valued that little strap of fabric more than the diamond ring around your finger that cost thousands. His fingertips flicked the dangling silver tag that hung at the front.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, “Are you getting excited for the wedding?”

You shrugged and gave him a small smile. While he would have preferred a resounding Yes, he would take this. It was a vast improvement from the times you’d burst into tears if he so much as uttered the words wedding or bride in your presence.

He planted a kiss on your forehead before sitting on the foot of the bed and pulling you into his lap. You sat up straight on his thigh with your shoulders back. Good. He stressed the importance of not slouching to you. It was unbecoming of someone with your beauty.

Two of his knuckles dragged down the curve of your face while his eyes studied your face for a moment.

“You know… today is a very special day,” he said, connecting his gaze with yours.

They swirled with nervousness, uncertain what kind of special today was. “It is?” you asked.

“Yeah. It is,” he confirmed. His fingers rested below your jaw while his thumb swiped back and forth across your chin. “Today’s our anniversary.”

You blinked at him for a few seconds. “But we’re not married yet…” you said and cocked your head a little.

“I know that, silly girl,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I’m not talking about our wedding anniversary. I’m talking about the anniversary of us. Of me bringing you here. The real start of your life.”

Realization dawned all across your face. “Oh,” was all you said.

“Don’t give me that,” he said with a little pinch to your jaw, “It’s a lot more important than ‘oh.’ That was the day you really became mine. My little puppy.”

He snuck his arms around you and pulled you flush against his chest, rocking back and forth with you for a few moments. The way his body swayed felt like how a child would do it with their favorite doll. His fingers traced up and down your spine.

You shut your eyes and relaxed in the embrace for a few moments. His tender attitude at the moment helped keep your thoughts quiet, which was good since the information he just gave you feelings the exact opposite of his.

While nostalgia warmed Naoya’s chest, a sense of dread permeated your body. You had been here for a whole year. An entire year of your life, wasted away while you played house between the walls of the Zen’in estate. You had honestly given up on escape after the last time when he threatened to upgrade your collar to an electric one, but the idea that you would actually be here forever didn’t feel real until right now.

Something about the one year marker ticking by made the time more than an abstract concept. The same was true of Toji’s death. Some days it felt like he was gone only a week, others you felt like the last time you laid with him was in another life.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you think of him now. It was stupid, but sometimes you worried he’d be disappointed in you for giving in. He fought his way out of this place. Now one of them had you, and you were just taking it lying down.

But you couldn’t fight back anymore. You just couldn’t. This wasn’t so bad. You told yourself that everyday as you lounged around the house or made him dinner. It could be so much worse. It’s not like Naoya kept you in a box under the bed or in some dank basement. He treated you like a wife. Sure he could be… old-fashioned to put it nicely, but you were pretty sure that, in his own twisted way, he really believed he loved you.

And the worst part about this whole thing was you were kind of sure that, in some fucked up way, you felt some sort of attachment to him too.

You’d liked Naoya as a friend before any of this happened. When he was just Toji’s little cousin. You thought he was cute. A little mouthy, but funny and sharp. He was still that way now, and when you behaved he let you see that. That was when nostalgia hits you. When he got you laughing, some part of your brain felt like you were back in the apartment, waiting for Toji to come home from the store.

And when he wasn’t in a bad mood, he could be pretty sweet. Sure the puppy stuff made you want to vomit at first but now it was kinda cute… It was just his special thing for you. That’s what you told yourself. He took care of you, and he could be loving and gentle. He could be a lot worse to you. Some of the other men around here were to their wives.

Those thoughts only brought you turmoil though. You hated yourself for getting used to him. For finding reasons to defend him to yourself. To justify his eternal presence in your life.

As much as you tried to keep it down, a sniffle broke its way out of you. You hoped he didn’t notice. He was being nice right now, and you wanted so badly to keep that going. You didn’t want this to turn into a lesson.

But unfortunately, he heard the soft sound. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed your jaw, forcing your head off his chest. His eyes looked down upon your face now, not in admiration but with inquisition.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, the words coming out with the smallest hint of accusation.

Before you could even think of a cover, you shook your head. There was no way you were gonna risk having to explain your feelings to him. Naoya wasn’t the best with that.

“No…” you replied, “I’m just… I’m so… I’m so happy.”

He continued to stare at you, though his gaze dissolved from displeased to plain confusion. You brought your hand up to hold his wrist.

“I never thought I would be so lucky to have someone like you who takes care of me and looks out for me. I just can’t believe it’s been a whole year. It just makes me think about everything,” you whispered. The low volume helped them seem more authentic. If you had to be emphatic about this, it would probably seem forced.

A gradual smile began forming on his face. “Well no wonder you’re crying. You know you and thinking don’t go well together,” he teased and pulled you back to his body.

He let out a lovesick sigh and rested his cheek against the top of your head. You released a breath too. Without his scrutiny, you could relax. His hand resumed petting up and down your back while he held you.

“My poor puppydoll… you get overwhelmed by all those big feelings in your head so easily,” he cooed, “That’s why you need me. You know I can handle it all for you.”

You nodded on instinct.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, “But I didn’t bring today up for no reason. I wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?” you asked and wiped at your misty eyes before looking up at him again.

“Well, because today is our anniversary, I thought you deserved a gift. But you’ve been such a good girl lately, so polite and well behaved, doing everything I ask of you. It couldn’t be just anything. It had to be special,” he explained.

You tried to map out where this might be going, but you came up short. He rolled over with you, slotting you beneath him on the mattress. His elbow held him above you while his free hand came up and clicked off your collar. Your eyes widened as he pushed it aside. Today must have really been special to him.

“I was thinking and thinking and thinking, but I couldn’t come up with anything that my puppy would need. You already have so many pretty outfits. So many good pairs of shoes. All the toys you could want. I keep you so well-spoiled… so what would be a good enough present for my sweet little bride?” he asked as he ducked down to your neck, “Can you guess?”

His mouth began laying hot kisses on your throat. You shuddered under his touch. He licked at your pulse point before nipping at the skin. You know he wanted to leave a mark. That was the main reason he bothered kissing your neck at all.

When he didn’t say anything after a few seconds, you realized his question wasn’t rhetorical. He expected you to guess.

“Um… I don’t know. Are we gonna go out somewhere together?” you asked hopefully. It had been a long time since you’d seen the city. Or anywhere that wasn’t this house or the grounds of this estate.

He laughed a little against your skin, peppering the area with another series of pecks. “Good try, but no. I thought of something even better,” he breathed.

You tried to think of another guess, but you honestly had no clue what he intended to use to mark this occasion.

“I don’t know,” you acquiesced.

“That’s ok, baby. I didn’t think you’d get it. It was just cute watching you try,” he teased. 

He nosed at your neck once more before pulling back and looking down at you. His hand rested on your hips, his fingers clasped around the soft flesh there.

“I was thinking that because you’ve been such a good girl for me lately, that you’re ready for me to give you the greatest gift you’ll ever receive,” he whispered, “My heir.”

Every cell in your body froze upon hearing those words. You stared at him, jaw tight and eyes unmoving. How did you not think of that? It was obvious now that he’d said it. You’d known about his desire to eventually get you pregnant since your first day here, but he’d always referred to it as some distant thing. Some event that would occur after the two of you married.

There was only a month until the wedding though, so you supposed he was on track.

“Like a baby?” you whispered back, still wishing somehow that you’d misinterpreted what he meant.

“Well obviously,” he said, “Now’s not the time for joking, puppy. I know you’re ready.”

“I…” you started, but you cut yourself short. You didn’t know how to divert him from that idea without causing a blow up. “I’m scared…” you tried.

“There’s no reason to be. You know I’ll take care of you. The whole time you’re pregnant, you’ll be spoiled even more than you are now,” he said and kissed you, this time on the mouth. His lips moved against your own at a sensual pace before he pulled back. “It’ll feel so good. It’s what this body was made for. To carry Zen’in babies.”

You didn’t know what else you could possibly say, but luckily that wasn’t a worry for long. He went back in for more kisses. His tongue worked your mouth open before slipping in and caressing your own. You moaned softly and brought your hand up to thread through his bleached tresses.

He smirked against your lips. You could feel the smug curve of it rise as he steadied himself above you. His hand kneaded your hips before his fingers hooked over the top of your bottoms and began pulling them down.

Your heart thundered in your chest. “Nao, I don’t know…” you whimpered, but he silenced you by pressing his mouth harder against you.

“There’s nothing for you to know, baby. Nothing you need to worry about. You let me make the decisions remember? Just be a good girl for me,” he mumbled. 

He rolled his hips against your center, forcing your legs to spread wider in the process. You could feel his bulge against the thin cloth of your panties. He did it a couple more times, rocking the hard mound against your clothed cunt. The dull friction felt good, you couldn’t deny that. Your breath hitched and you arched against him slightly.

Despite you starting to reciprocate somewhat, he could still feel the tension in you, and he didn’t like that. Normally it wouldn’t bother him so much, but tonight was different. He wanted you desperate to carry his babies, begging for him to fuck you full of his seed. It was an honor after all. Even if you still had reservations, you would come to see that in time.

His right set of fingers delved between your thighs, lifting the elastic of your panties and cupping your pussy. He slid his middle digit between your folds. In a few seconds, the pad swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves. It flicked across your little clit, drawing a whine out of you.

“You don’t understand how badly I need to breed you, precious,” he breathed.

Your legs squirmed, and you bit your lip. You tried to keep your thoughts in line. A few small strokes to your pussy wouldn’t melt you so easily.

But it wasn’t just a few small strokes.

Naoya went back to kissing your neck, working all over from your jaw to your shoulder. His finger played with you until you began leaking arousal. He ground his erection against your thigh and whimpered next to your ear.

You could try to ignore it all you wanted, but you could hear the need in his voice. He sounded like an animal in pain. His other hand gripped you with the force of one as well.

“It’s all I want in this world. To rule this clan with you at my side, full with my child,” he panted, “You’ll look beautiful. Swollen in all the right places. Your body glowing as it does what it was meant to.”

Another moan fell from your mouth as his dreams began to infiltrate your mind as well. And while you were all worked up, you could kind of see the appeal.

“It’ll feel so good for you, fulfilling your purpose. Your body will be so sensitive too. You’ll ache for me, puppy. Your body will crave me like oxygen because it’ll know I own you.”

“Naoya,” you gasped. His finger slid down to your entrance and prodded inside for a moment. He pumped it in and out. It wasn’t enough to make you cum or give you serious pleasure. But it was the perfect amount to steal the thoughts from your head and melt you beneath him.

“Good girl,” he purred, “This is what you need, baby. That silly little brain is trying to hold you back because you’ve been taught that everyone expects more of you. But I don’t. I don’t expect you to work or make decisions or do any of that hard stuff because I know that’s too complicated for my little puppy. It wouldn’t be fair to ask that of you. All I want you to do is relax and let me have control. Just be my good little girl and listen to what I tell you. And what I’m telling you is that you’re meant to be bred. That’s all you need to do, my sweet wife.”

A moment passed where nothing changed. He kept kissing you while you stayed still. But then your hands rose to his chest and started grabbing at his shirt, trying to tug it off. And he knew he had you.

“Silly girl, just a few sweet words and you fall apart so easily for me,” he muttered.

In your mind, your resolve hadn’t completely collapsed. But what he’d said didn’t sound horrible. It was definitely the best case scenario for being here. So why not enjoy your anniversary. You could worry about the consequences tomorrow.

He made quick work of his clothing and your remaining coverings. In no time, he stood nude above him while you laid exposed on the mattress.

Stroking his cock a few times, he climbed on top of you. His golden eyes drooped with lust as they focused on you. You wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to guide him where you needed him most.

“So eager to be full now, are you?” he mocked.

You nodded and looped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down on you. Most of the time, he wasn’t a fan of such clinginess while he was on top of you, but you were behaving better than he expected. He could let it slide just this once. It was your anniversary after all.

He lined up with your hole and nudged the tip against you teasingly.

“Naoya,” you whined, tightening your legs around him.

“This is what I get for spoiling you, huh? A whiny pup,” he murmured and pecked your cheek as he sheathed himself inside you.

Your walls locked around him, squeezing and fluttering at the pleasure that came with the first thrust. His breath came out a little shaky as he adjusted to the feeling of you around him. He shut his eyes for a moment, just feeling the warmth of your tight embrace.

“Your pussy’s begging for it,” he said as he dragged his hips back. He then pushed into you again.

Another long stroke followed the first, and then another after that. He set himself into a steady rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth. You mewled and clutched at his shoulders.

“It just feels so good,” you whimpered.

His grip became stronger on you too. He held you close to his body, ensured you couldn’t run or squirm away from him in the slightest. His pelvis continued to piston against you. The faint sound of skin clapping on skin filled the bedroom along with your combined sounds of ecstasy.

Every time he bottomed out, his silky tip bumped against some sweet spot. You cried out with almost everyone. Your eyes rolled back, blissed out from the continuous stimulation.

“That’s it. Just take it,” he huffed, nestling his face against your neck. You could feel his hot breath steaming against your skin.

Arousal continued to gush from you around his cock. Your slick smeared against your skin and coated the patch of dark hair at the base of his dick.

“Nao… deeper, please,” you whined.

He sighed and obliged your request, slamming into you as hard as he could. Your head board knocked against the wall.

“There you go,” he grunted, “Nice and deep. Gotta get it all the way in so it will take.”

You felt so good that hearing that didn’t even bother you. If anything, it dragged you closer to the edge.

“Gonna- ah! Gonna…” you tried to tell him.

“Just think about it. If I knock you up tonight, you’ll be pregnant during our wedding,” he said. He rolled his hips against you at a slower pace that still reached just as deep. “You’re supposed to wait till the wedding night to try, but no one would know. It’d be our little secret. My gorgeous bride, bred and beautiful just for me.”

Your hips bucked eagerly, out of your control. A pitchy whine left you, audible proof of your desperation.

“That’s it, puppy. Cum for me,” he crooned, “Cum for me so I can pump you full and put a baby in your belly.”

You cried out and locked your limbs around his body. Your muscles all quivered as release crashed into you. It hit you like a bomb going off. Your eyes screwed shut while your jaw clenched. Strangled moans still made their way out though.

He groaned right beside your ear. The pulsing of your cunt only grew more rapid around his length. It massaged him just how he needed to reach the finish line. He kept working himself in and out right until he felt that peak. Then he slid in all the way and let his body go lax on you, trembling with the pleasure of his orgasm.

You held him while his cum spilled inside of you, and afterwards the both of you remained attached. Your hearts pounded against each other where your chests met, rising and falling with labored breaths. His fingers lazily pet your head, trailing down to your shoulder to trace little patterns there.

Eventually, he pulled out and rolled off of you. His hand came to rest on your lower stomach without a word. He held it there for a few moments before rising onto his elbow and giving you a kiss.

“My perfect bride-to-be,” he whispered, the tip of his nose nearly touching yours, “I think whatever you had in the oven has long burnt by now.”

The tone in which he said the words had you thinking for a few seconds they were just some sweet nothings you didn’t understand. But upon taking a deeper breath and smelling the air, you realized he was right. The food you’d put in the oven before he’d come home was probably burnt to a crisp at this point.

“Sorry,” you said, instantly sitting up to go and correct your mistake.

But with a gentle hand on your shoulder, he ushered you back down against the mattress.

“I’ll have the servants bring us something better and clean it up,” he said and nuzzled your cheek, “What do I always say? I’ll take care of you. Even your little mistakes.”

You nodded and relaxed again. Your eyes drifted down to your stomach, the location of your possible future greatest mistake. Despite everything that had just transpired, you hoped it wouldn’t take.

“Oh I almost forgot,” he said, breaking you from your thoughts. His hand came up to your throat, your collar between his fingers. He grinned as he fastened it back into place. “There we go. It would be wrong of me to leave my pup without her collar.”

He flicked the dangling tag once more before laying beside you again.

[radiostaticlive]

Tim did not wake up in his bed. No, he woke up a dirty alley in the heart of Crime Alley.

Tim, hand pressed over his ear: Oracle, can you fill me in.

Silence. Not even static.

Tim looks down for the first time and notices he’s not in consume. He’s not Red Robin, but Tim Drake. And pointy does not have any of his equipment on him.

What the heck. He was pretty sure he was fighting the Penguin earlier. Had that bird knocked him out and strip him?

No. No, he’s in the same clothes he put on the morning before. The same clothes that he wore to that stupid W.E meeting.

Tim, muttering to himself as he slowly leaves the alley: Ok. Ok calm down Tim. You can figure this out.

He pats himself down, looking for his phone to call the cave. He finds it, noticeably cracked but still functional.

No signal.

Tim: Just my luck. Looks like I have to walk home.

When Tim gets to the entrance of the cave he finds it sealed shut. Like glued to the seems with concrete shut.

Ok. That’s ok. Tim’s siblings prank him all the time. This is nothing new. Just incredibly inconvenient.

Takes him an additional 20 minutes but he’s finally in the cave, thanks to one of the multiple entrances. Thank god for Bruce and his paranoia.

“As you can see here. Batman had a tool for pretty much anything and everything. “

Tim froze at the unknown voice in the cave. Sticking to the shadows he crept forward to peer inside without being seen.

The cave looked sterile. Velvet rope blocked off the Bat computer, and off to the side a table was out displaying case files and Bat-a-rings.

What the.

“And if you look over here, you can see what our hero’s wore to protect our great city.” The same voice drew Tim’s attention to the group of people in the middle of the room.

They looked like tourists. Cameras out, faces a mixer of intrigued excitement or boredom. They were fallowing a lady, presumably the tour guide, to there Jason’s memorial was.

Tim was quick to sneak into the back of the group and act like he was just another bored teenager. He had to figure out what was going on and if that meant touring his own house, so be it.

Tour guide: And here we are. The Robins. the boy, or girl, Wonders. Now there were a total of 5 robins, but Stephane Brown only hold the mantle for a short time. In order the Robins were first, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.

This isn’t good. First some lady was giving a tour of the Batcave of all places and now she knows their names. And she just told about 20 people and god who knows how many more.

She knows.

She told.

Everyone knows.

Fuck.

Ok, maybe the bats went into hiding? That had to be what happened. But then why would they leave Tim? Did they think he was dead?

The tour went on. The guide went on and on about things that didn’t really matter or were completely inaccurate. Tim was trying not to freak out the longer it went on.

Finally the group went to the elevator, except the small 2 passenger elevator was replaced with one of those big ones that could hold a large group of people.

The manor proper was very much in the same state as the cave. Things were roped off while other items were displayed. It made his head hurt.

Tapping the shoulder of the guy next to him.

Tim: Hey, do you remember what the name of this place is?

Guy: Uh, yeah kid. Kinda hard with the cheesy name.

Tim: Which is? Sorry bad memory.

Guy: The Bat- Museum. Seriously kid. I know that this stuff is boring but you gotta learn your history. The Bats were good people.

Tim, trying not to show the panic at the perfect that he’s been hearing all day.

Tim: Yeah you’re right.

Thankfully the cave seemed to be the end of the tour as the guide lead them to the main foyer.

Tim in all his panic glory, ran out the doors the minute people were leaving.

Muttering a desperate plead to any god in the universe.

Tim: Please don’t be right. Please don’t be right. Please don’t be dead.

With all the stealth his shaking form could do, Tim makes his was around the Manor to the secluded privet cemetery.

Tim’s heart dropped in his chest. Even at a distance he could make out several graves in the once nearly empty lot.

Not bothering with the gate, Tim climbed and hosted himself over landing hard on the ground.

But he

Did

Not

Care.

Tears unwilling fell from his eyes as he read the names on the new graves.

His family’s names.

On sleek marble.

Dead.

Even Alfred had his own stone. Right next to Bruce, like he always did. Like he forever will do now.

Tim stared blankly at his own grave that was in the middle of Steph’s and Jason’s. The one he crawled out of. But not this time.

In loving memory of Timmothy Drake- Wayne

Beloved son, friend and hero.

“Reach for the stars chum.” - Bruce Wayne, adopted father

Tim fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

He failed.

He failed them.

Again.

He couldn’t protect his family a second time. What a worthless “hero” he was. He couldn’t even die right!

White light surrounded Tim’s crying form.

Phantom stood, tears still falling down his face.

With one last look at the graves around him, he flew up and away from Gotham.

Away from the city he failed.

Just like Amity.

[callmemonster68]

NIKI - Fallen Angel ( smut )

Cast out of heaven for breaking the rules, but finding redemption in the pleasures of a mortal.

Pairing: Niki, a fallen angel X FemReader

Genre: Obscenity

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism, brands

Note: I'm recently starting to write, and English is not my native language. I apologize for any mistakes and hope to improve my writing. Feedback is always welcome!

Niki, the fallen angel, had been banished from Heaven with a seemingly eternal sentence. Each feather of his once-radiant wings now carried a sinister black hue, a mark of his transgression. He wandered among humans but found no solace. His nights were consumed by insatiable desires—a hunger no mortal seemed able to satisfy... until he met Y/N.

The first time he saw her, something inside him shattered. It wasn’t just desire—it was need. She was like a whispered prayer in the darkness of his soul, and Niki knew she would either save him or lead to his ultimate destruction.

One night, under the pale moonlight, he approached her. His presence was intense, as though he drew the air from the space around him. Y/N stared at him, both intrigued and cautious. He seemed otherworldly.

Niki: “You feel it, don’t you?”

His voice was deep, a whisper laced with dark promises. He lifted a hand, almost touching her face, but stopping just short.

Niki: “The power that surges between us...”

Y/N took a step back, but he followed, his eyes gleaming with something more than human.

Niki: “You want me as much as I want you.”

He smiled, cruelly, as though savoring the thought.

Niki: “Don’t run. I’ve already decided… You will be mine.”

----------TIME SKIP----------

The days that followed were a game of power. Niki appeared whenever he wanted, invading her dreams and her reality. He made Y/N feel small but powerful, as if she had control over him—though she knew it was the opposite.

Niki: “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

He whispered, gripping Y/N’s chin firmly, forcing her to look at him.

Niki: “The way I hold you, how I dominate every part of your being. Don’t deny it. I can feel your heartbeat quicken.”

S/N: “You’re insane.”

Niki: “Maybe, but you belong to me. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that never changes.”

Then he disappeared again, leaving Y/N in confusion, unsure if it had all been a dream or if it was real.

----------TIME SKIP----------

This time was different. He didn’t wait for midnight to find her. It was early evening, as Y/N went through her nightly routine before bed, that he appeared. Startled, she jumped at the sight of Niki’s devilish grin. He enjoyed testing her limits, teasing her with words that carried as much desire as threat.

Niki: “You’re fragile, human, but that’s what excites me. Watching you break… and beg me to continue.”

Y/N tried to pull her arms away, but he laughed, low and husky.

Niki: “No. Not so fast. I told you, you’d be mine. And fallen angels don’t break their promises, little one.”

He moved closer, pressing their bodies together, studying her reactions. He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from hers. When she didn’t pull back, he closed the distance, kissing her—a wild kiss from the start. Y/N broke away, gasping for air, which only made Niki laugh, a deep, throaty sound, as though reveling in her innocence and desperation.

Niki: “You want this as much as I do, giving in so easily. I knew it would happen, but you’re outdoing yourself—like a desperate little puppy at my mercy.”

Y/N’s face flushed deep pink, her body growing warmer. She couldn’t deny it—she felt fear, but she was desperate to be touched, consumed by him. And he knew it, savoring the anticipation of what was to come.

Niki guided S/N to the bedroom. With a snap of his fingers, her clothes lay in shredded pieces on the floor. She tried to cover herself with her hands and arms, but Niki stopped her. Kneeling, he picked up a scrap of fabric and used it to bind her hands behind her back, gagging her as well. Y/N didn’t resist; she knew she wouldn’t win a fight against him. Truth be told, she wouldn’t say it aloud, but she was growing more eager for what was to come.

Y/N had long realized that Niki was a sadistic, cruel brat who would ruin her in every way imaginable—and she wanted it. She had spent her life searching for someone who could break her, someone who could destroy her completely. She never found it—until now. She was about to have the most painful and pleasurable experience of her life.

Niki conjured a dagger with a black blade, and Y/N’s eyes widened in fear of what he might do. His usual devilish grin was in place, his eyes alight with desire as he trailed the dagger toward her soft skin. He pressed the blade lightly against her neck, causing a superficial cut, and then pulled it away. Locking eyes with her, he leaned in and licked the blood from the wound, sucking at it. With her blood still on his lips, he kissed her.

She would have found it strange—disgusting, even—if a friend had described such an act. But here she was, finding it unbearably hot. Niki pulled back.

Niki: “That was just the first. I’ll mark you every time I take you. It’s a sign, a warning, a confirmation that you’re mine—and you’ll be marked as such forever.”

In an instant, Niki stripped himself bare. Y/N was stunned by the sight of him, especially by the size of him—it was the largest she’d ever seen. Her mouth watered with desire, and Niki didn’t miss the reaction.

Niki: “You filthy bitch, staring at my cock like a starving dog eyeing a bowl of food.”

A loud slap echoed in the room. Niki had struck Y/N across the face, bringing tears to her eyes. The humiliation he was making her feel only heightened her arousal.

Niki: “On all fours on the bed, now!”

Y/N obeyed immediately, her face pressed against the mattress, her ass raised high—the most perfect sight Niki had ever seen. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself behind her. He aligned his cock with the wet entrance of her pussy. One hand gripped her bound wrists while the other tangled in her hair, forcing her face down. Without warning, he thrust deeply into her.

Y/N felt a mix of pain and indescribable ecstasy as he stretched her walls, reaching depths no one else ever had. His rhythm was brutal, relentless. He fucked her while degrading her with the dirtiest insults, and with each one, her pussy clenched him tighter.

Niki: “Filthy little human, you like being treated like a cheap slut. Then that’s exactly what you’ll get.”

Without warning, Niki pulled out. He untied the scrap of fabric binding her hands and set her free. Tossing her aside, he ripped the gag from her mouth and laid back on the bed.

Niki: “Come on. Ride me!”

Y/N got up, positioning herself over Niki. She aligned the head of his cock with her entrance and locked eyes with him.

Y/N: “An angel? You’re nothing but a depraved demon. You shouldn’t even have the right to keep those wings.”

Smirking, she lowered herself fully onto Niki’s cock. His hands gripped her thighs tightly, leaving marks on her skin. S/N rode him with fervor, setting a rapid, devoted pace.

Niki: “You’re the one who should be an angel, so divine, with such a perfect pussy—lifting me to heaven.”

Y/N: “Your cock fills me so perfectly. It’s like I’m being possessed by the Devil.”

It didn’t take long for both of them to climax together. Y/N collapsed onto Niki’s bare chest, both of them utterly spent. As Niki ran his fingers through her hair, Y/N traced her fingers along the feathers of his wings.

Suddenly, a cold air filled the room, and a mist began to form. Y/N felt the feathers of Niki’s wings vibrating beneath her hands. Their startled gazes met, and in a quick motion, both sat up, facing each other on the bed.

Within seconds, the mist enveloped Niki, and when it dissipated, his wings had vanished. Y/N’s eyes widened in shock as she noticed something unusual atop Niki’s head.

S/N: “Niki, you have horns on your head!”

This story is part of the universe of ' Divine Sins: Immortal Fantasies with ENHYPEN ' created by me.Description:Seven sensual and mysterious tales that delve into the desires between mortals and immortals. Inspired by the members of ENHYPEN, these stories reimagine the group as powerful gods and a fallen angel, all wickedly alluring and irresistibly seductive. Each narrative immerses readers in a world of fantasy, unveiling forbidden passions, divine secrets, and the overwhelming intensity that sparks between celestial beings and an ordinary human. A universe brimming with lust, mystery, and the captivating allure of the forbidden, where every story is an invitation to desire. Contains mature content.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[nowimjustastranger]

Omgg the dimension in the stcmo au where Stanley destroys his own dimension with Stanford and the dead twins in it is fkn killing me 😭 He was fully ready to die with the world, seeing that his world (the kids) had already ended anyway :(

How do you think Stanley died in the other dimension, where Stanford and the twins survived but he didn't? I also really wanna know what their reactions were to meeting each other again or if their memories were altered or not!

I love this AU to death and beyond, please never die 😔🙏

Honestly, the possibilities are endless in terms of how exactly Stan goes out (destroying Bill in the process).

And as for the relocated Stan...

Stan hit the ground and, for the first time in his life, he just stayed down. That tiny voice in the back of his head that had kept him going all these years had finally fallen silent, leaving him to drown in his overwhelming despair. He didn’t care to pick himself back up again. There was no point.

His kids were gone. Snuffed out before they could even live their lives. His brother, who he had just brought home, killed with the press of a button. He was pathetically thankful that he hadn’t been the one to activate the doomsday device, he didn’t think he could’ve lived with himself knowing that he had killed his big brother with his own hand.

Not that he had been planning to survive the explosion, which was another matter that he was just too worn down to address. Honestly, he didn’t really give a shit about the mystery man or his intentions. Even so, he should be furious that the mystery man kept him from joining his family, but he was hollowed out by the realization that he was the only one left.

Why was he always the last man standing?

He couldn’t bear to go another day without Mabel’s smile. The girl had bullied her way into his heart and carved out a space for herself, bringing enough love for the both of them with her. His sweet girl who loved glitter a little too much and drew trouble to her like a magnet, the girl who saw a sad old fuck and reminded him that life was worth living with every joke, every kind word, every laugh, every hug.

How could he possibly face another day without Dipper’s laugh? The boy had snuck into his heart not long after his sister had gotten comfortable, settling down like he had simply always been there. His brave boy who reminded Stan so much of his brother and himself, a strange amalgamation of both of them. Their best qualities put into one body.

Had he told them that he loved them? Even once? Had he ever uttered those words to his kids?

Did they die unsure of how much they meant to him? Did they die doubting that Stan loved them more than anything in the entire universe? Did they die quick or slow? Did they die scared, wanting their Grunkle to protect them from a cosmic bully? Did they die wishing that they’d never met him? Did they die cursing that they ever came to Gravity Falls–

His kids had to know that Stan would’ve given anything, struck any deal, endured any torment, killed anyone he had to so long as it meant that they got to be happy.

Stan didn't even realize he was crying until he pressed his forehead against the ground, shocked back into his own body by the soft rasp of greenery against his face. His shoulders heaved with the force of his sobs, hands fisted into the grass as he wailed his grief into the soil.

Grief for not telling Soos that he was like a son to him. Grief for not thanking Wendy for putting up with his shit. Grief for not telling Dipper that he was proud of him. Grief for not putting Mabel’s insecurities to rest before they could fester. Grief for waiting for a fucking ‘thank you’ instead of just hugging his damn brother like he had longed to do for the past forty years. Grief for not spending more time with all of them while he could.

As Stan’s pathetic tears finally dried up, a sound was carried on the breeze, every muscle in his body locking up as he raised his head. His brain stalled like an old engine, wide eyes staring off into the thick foliage. He was half convinced that his mind had finally fractured and he was hallucinating even as his body moved, scrambling to his feet to race through the forest.

Even if it was just a cruel trick of his mind, he couldn’t just ignore it. Not when it was his kids. And certainly not when his kids were crying. In no world could he ignore the sound of the niblings' distress. If they needed him, he’d be there. Easy as that. He would sooner light himself on fire than let them think that they couldn’t come to him with their problems, his discomfort with feelings and emotions could fuck right off.

As he got closer to the origin of the sound, he could actually make out words. His heart stuttered in his chest as he pushed himself faster and faster still because they were calling for him. They were wailing his name like two scared little kids lost in a big world that was too cruel for the likes of them. So, he answered their desperate call, just like he always would.

“Kids!”

Stan charged through the brush, erupting into a small clearing with three people standing in it. The first figure he recognized immediately as his brother, whose arm was raised to aim a triangular gun at Stan’s chest. The niblings were hidden behind him, clutching the fabric of his slacks as they peeked at Stan with huge wet eyes. Stan stumbled to a stop, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Surprisingly, no one in the clearing broke the silence, a voice ringing out from a sturdy branch in a nearby tree.

“It’s not a trick, Stanford.” A heavily modulated voice spoke as a dude in flashy getup stared down at them from his perch. In the blink of an eye, another gun was drawn from Ford’s trench coat, pointed at the man that Stan had been manhandled by earlier. His face was set with grim determination, but there was a telling shake to the hand that aimed the gun at Stan.

“You better start talkin’ or I’ll come up there n’ beat some answers outta you.” Stan demanded, sparing a glare for the stranger. He must’ve followed Stan here, which meant that he had also seen Stan blubbering like a pansy earlier. Great.

“The Stan of dimension F9-2 took his own life to defeat Bill, leaving your dimension without a Stanley Pines. Stan from dimension C40”0 was the only one to survive Weirdmageddon, his world destroyed by his brother’s last-ditch effort to kill Bill, leaving him without his family.” The stranger explained, gesturing to each brother in turn as he addressed them.

“So, you… brought him here?” Mabel tentatively piped in with a sniffle, poking her head out more, and Stan had to swallow the urge to tell her to keep out of sight. Now that he was getting a good look at the trio, he was noticing the differences, like how Ford was wearing the same suit that Stan himself currently had on, except it was far less tattered.

“I did.” The stranger confirmed with a slow nod and the niblings shared a look, communicating with just their eyes. Stan remembered when he used to do that with Ford, way back when their only worry was if they could get one last game of pirates in before they were called home for dinner. Stan hadn’t been that close to Ford since middle school, back before a yawning chasm of distance opened between them.

“Who are you?” Ford growled, his eyes narrowed as he shifted most of his attention to the stranger, who tilted his head in a predatory manner that made the hair on the back of Stan’s neck stand on end. Stan let his arms slowly drop down to his sides since the gun that had been aimed at him had been lowered slightly, Ford clearly prioritizing the bigger threat.

“A concerned third party.” The stranger said, not missing a beat before he shifted his weight to fall backward. He disappeared in the blink of an eye only to reappear right behind Stan, who squawked in alarm and outrage as one hand seized the back of his neck while the other pointed a weird gun behind them to open another colorful gateway. Stan threw an elbow back at the stranger, who caught it with practiced ease after swiftly holstering the gun.

“But if you’re unwilling to house him in your dimension–” The stranger began, before being unceremoniously interrupted by two small bodies darting out from the safety that Ford's body provided and throwing themselves at Stan.

“No! You can’t have Grunkle Stan! Please don’t take him away!” Mabel wailed with no small amount of terror, her tiny arms struggling to fit around Stan’s waist, clutching fistfuls of his jacket. Dipper was no better, quite literally sitting on Stan’s shoe in order to cling to his right leg with all four of his limbs while he begged the stranger to let Stan stay with them.

“Hey, hey… I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Stan soothed, voice lowered to a low rasp as he abandoned his effort to get the bastard behind him to let go in favor of getting a hand on each of the kids. One of his hands went to Dipper’s head while the other pressed against Mabel’s hitching back, the two pressing into the contact like they were starving for it. Stan turned his head just enough to level the visor of the stranger’s helmet with a dark look, daring him to disagree. “Right, pal?”

“Depends on him.” The stranger retorted, pointedly nodding at Ford, who had taken to aiming the gun directly at the stranger’s helmet. Thankfully, the portal had closed on its own, shrinking out of existence, and as a result, Ford’s posture had visibly lost some tension. Stan figured that it was because the kids had been in danger of going through with him had the stranger followed through with his threat.

“My brother stays.” Ford bit out through clenched teeth, something bordering on manic in his eyes. Stan noticed that Ford’s hand wasn’t shaking this time, his aim perfectly steady. Stan wasn’t sure why this stood out to him until he recalled that Ford’s hand had been trembling earlier when he had the gun pointed at Stan, which was far more shocking than it should’ve been.

“If you ever hurt Stan… I’ll be back and you will never see him again.” The stranger warned, drawing the weird sci-fi gun in a dark blur and firing it off to the side, smoothly stepping into the swirl of colors before both the stranger and the portal were gone. Stan stood there dumbly, staring at the empty space where the portal used to be until his attention was redirected to the warm body that crashed into him.

Stan yelped as he went down in a heap of flailing limbs, instinctively struggling as strong arms wound around his body. However, Stan froze when he heard a choked sob, blankly staring up at the cloudless blue sky in utter disbelief as Ford broke down in tears. Ford’s face was buried in the crook of Stan’s neck, his glasses digging into skin, but Stan didn’t care because he was clinging to him and the kids just as tightly.

And if his eyes were wet and his cheeks damp, it was just allergies.

[justaparsec94]

Wounded

Summary: In the aftermath of Tantiss Hunter pays a visit to Pabu's resident healer to help him deal with his battle wounds.

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,798

Author's Note: This is just pure, pointless fluff.

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

In general, Hunter did whatever was within his power to avoid medbays and med droids. Truthfully, anything and everything medical-related. It was, in his mind, a likely byproduct of growing up in a laboratory and essentially spending most of his life being poked, prodded, and scanned. You name it it had likely happened to Hunter and his brothers. Once he had been released from Kamino he had adopted the mentality that there wasn’t anything some bacta spray and a self-applied bandage couldn’t fix. The only way someone would get him anywhere near a medbay was if he was unconscious and physically couldn’t have anything to say about it. 

He learned rather quickly though, that the people of Pabu had a different outlook when it came to looking after oneself. They actually cared. Not only that, but they were careful about taking care of one another. No unnecessary scans or blood draws. Just basic sentient kindness. It was a foreign concept to him and despite knowing that no one on the island would intentionally hurt him or anyone for that matter, he still avoided their medical clinic at all cost. 

A decision that he was questioning currently, as a stabbing pain shot through his side as he lifted the other end of a mattress. An involuntary groan left him and the end of the mattress dipped, his head swam as the pain reached an almost unbearable level.  He tried to take a deep breath to clear his head but that only made the pain worse, his hands slipped off the mattress and the loud thump that resulted caused every pair of eyes in the house to turn his way.

“Hunter?” Omega asked, voice filled with concern.

At the same time, Phee placed the box she had been carrying down, “You ok there, Hunter?” 

“Fine,” He managed to reply though it came out more of a wheeze. His skin was crawling at all the unwanted attention but it seemed the pain in his side wasn’t going to be ignored in that moment. No matter how much he wanted to pretend it was fine and continue on with the task at hand. 

They’d only returned from Tantiss a few days prior, but each day had seemed busier than the last. Between getting the other clones and children settled, trying to coordinate with Rex, and moving into the house that Shep and Phee had given them there had barely been any time for Hunter to rest, despite that being what he really wanted most of all. They’d all sustained injuries on the mission, but Hunter had felt that as the least injured, he could take over doing everything his brothers shouldn’t be doing at the moment, like moving a mattress with Shep.  

A scoff from the corner of the room drew his attention, Crosshair was sitting on a stool, his usual stony expression on his face and arms crossed over his chest. The lack of a hand was still jarring to Hunter and filled him with guilt each time. 

“He’s just pretending he’s fine, like usual,” He said, tone filled with less malice than was typical for Crosshair, but still incredibly snide. They might have made a lot of strides but the two of them still had a long way to go in repairing their relationship. 

“What’s wrong, Hunter?” Omega asked, putting down her own box and coming over to him. They didn’t have many possessions, especially since what they did have had gone up in flames or sunk to the bottom of the ocean with The Marauder, but Shep and Phee had very generously rounded up donations so that their new house would feel more like a home. It wasn’t much and it was mostly furniture but after a lifetime of having nothing, it meant a lot to them all. 

“Nothing,” He said again, this time his voice came out stronger. The pain subsided somewhat now that he was no longer lifting a heavy object. 

“You sure?” Wrecker asked, crowding into the space, “I can help Shep with this if yah need a break.” Wrecker was in even less shape than Hunter, he’d been so badly injured during the mission that it was a miracle he was even moving around only a few days later. 

“I’m fine,” Hunter snapped, uncomfortable with all of the attention that was currently on him. He didn’t want or need them to worry about him. 

“It’s his ribs,” Crosshair said cooly, which caused Hunter to curse internally. Nothing ever got past the sharpshooter. 

“I’ll get AZI!” Omega said, turning quickly to make her way out of the small house but Hunter caught her gently by the arm. 

“It’s fine, Omega,” he repeated as she looked up at him in confusion, “I don’t need AZI. It’s just a twinge.”

Crosshair scoffed in the corner again but Hunter pointedly ignored him as Omega continued to look at him with wide, concerned eyes. The expression was almost enough to make him actually consider seeking some form of medical treatment from the droid. Almost.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Positive,” Hunter said, letting go of her arm to pat her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way. She gave him another long, scrutinizing look that she seemed to have inherited directly from Crosshair before she picked up her box once more and carried it toward the room that would be her own. Wrecker gave Hunter a long, knowing look before he followed after her, keen to help her re-create the space she had lost on The Marauder. 

“Why don’t you help me with this Phee?” Shep asked, clearly ignoring Hunter’s protests that he was actually fine and capable of moving furniture. 

“Sure thing, take a break boys!” Phee said cheerfully. She gently pushed Hunter out of the way but turned to look at him before picking up his dropped end. 

“If you’re so against seeing AZI, you should go see Y/N, I’m sure she could help you out,” Phee suggested with a look in her eyes that Hunter decidedly did not like the look of. Despite his best efforts, he felt his face flush at her suggestion. The last thing he wanted to do was have the most beautiful woman on the island know his problems. 

You had been one of the first people outside of Shep, Lyana, and Phee that he’d met on the island. You were one of the island’s resident healers, unofficially, according to Phee to be the best. He’d met you in the aftermath of the tsunami, tending to those injured in the scramble to safety. The crowd had parted as he had been carrying supplies and it had been like one of those moments straight out of one of the horrible holo films Wrecker and Omega liked to watch. You had been all he’d been able to see. And then later when you’d asked him if he was injured with a warm smile and kind eyes he’d been instantly smitten, which up until that point had been a completely foreign feeling to him. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t think you were capable, you were, even Tech had commented on more than one occasion how ‘proficient’ your skills as a healer were. But it seemed that any time you were around he was only able to say something stupid, or worse, nothing at all. He’d never been very good at dealing with emotions, his own or others, another byproduct of his upbringing, so his feelings for you, whatever they may be, were completely foreign to him. It seemed though, judging by the knowing smirk on Phee’s face that they were not unknown to her. 

“Her bedside manner is a whole heck of a lot better than AZI’s,” Phee said lightly, eyes dancing with amusement, “She’s got some good tricks up her sleeve. I’m sure she’d be able to whip up something to give you some relief.” 

Hunter was about to protest, brush it off as nothing once again but Phee stopped him, her expression turning serious as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Seriously, Hunter. You don’t need to suffer anymore.”

“It’s in his nature,” Crosshair chimed from his spot in the corner, “Always the martyr.”

“Look who's talking,” Hunter snapped, glaring over at his younger brother who only smirked back over at him, “But fine, I’ll go,” Mostly just to get them to stop bothering him. 

“She’s not in clinic today so check over at her house,” Phee answered before she turned to help Shep carry the long-forgotten mattress, “She’s always happy to have people make a house call.”

Hunter wasn’t so sure about that but it seemed no one was going to let him keep pretending to be ok. He sighed, the pain in his side flaring and causing him to groan softly. Well, he thought as he made his way out of their small home, might as well get it over with sooner rather than later. 

*

Your house was small but well-maintained and looked just like every other house on Pabu, with the exception of a variety of potted plants and flowers lining the front and doorway. Sea glass wind chimes hung beside the door and tinkled softly in the gentle breeze. He briefly wondered if Omega would like some for their house. Maybe potted flowers too? Did that count as decorating? He wondered as he reached up to softly knock on the front door. 

There was no answer after a long, silent moment and with his heightened senses he couldn’t hear any movement within the house. He frowned, it looked like you weren’t home. He stared at the closed door for a moment, considering his options. He wasn’t sure if it would be better to just wait and risk looking like a creep or leave and try again later. 

Before he could even make that decision he turned suddenly, picking up on another presence moments before a figure stepped around the side of the building. You stopped short at the sight of him, eyebrows shot up in surprise and he watched as your head tilted slightly as you took the sight of him in. He took the same moment to look at you, your hair was wet, piled onto your head messily and you were carrying a large board, like the ones he often saw people riding waves in the ocean on. He was pretty sure Tech had said it was called surfing. 

Your momentary shock seemed to wear off and your gaze turned warm as it swept over him from head to toe. He felt your look like a physical weight against his body and he did his best to remain loose and not tense. His senses suddenly seemed to be heading towards overload for no reason he could discern. Maybe all that torture and the hit to the head had done more damage than he had thought. 

“Hey, Hunter,” You greeted warmly before you turned and placed the board up against the house on a small stand he hadn’t noticed before. Oblivious to his internal struggles you turned back towards him, smile somehow even brighter than before, “To what do I owe this pleasant visit?”

“Uh…” He started then coughed, he could feel his face heating at his inability to speak like a normally functioning human being. He didn’t know what in the galaxy was wrong with him, “Phee sent me. She said you might be able to help me out… with some pain.”

A look of understanding dawned on your face and you nodded, suddenly all business, “Of course, come on in,” you gestured towards the front door before moving towards it. He followed after you, trying to keep a respectful distance. 

“Don’t mind the mess,” You replied airly as he followed you further into the house, “I haven’t cleaned in a bit.” 

Hunter couldn’t help but think this was the cleanest home he’d ever been in, it was warm, bright, and inviting. Exactly the type of place he hoped they could make out of their own for Omega’s sake. Most importantly, it didn’t smell like a dirty barrack, so that alone made it the nicest place he’d ever been. 

He followed you into a little room that had been made up into what looked like an examination room rather than a bedroom. He paused at the threshold of the room as the same uncomfortable feeling he always got when it came to medical treatments crept up his neck. 

“I’m sorry it’s not a state-of-the-art medbay, but it does the trick,” You said as you gestured towards the small padded examination table in the centre of the room. You turned back to look at him when he remained silent, slight concern visible in the depths of your eyes, “We can go up to the clinic if you’d be more comfortable with that, though.”

“No,” Hunter replied quickly, face flushing. Even though the medical clinic on Pabu was nothing like a medical facility on Kamino, he still had no desire to go to it. 

“Alright,” You said with a soft nod, clearly noticing his discomfort but thankfully ignoring it, “What can I help you with, Hunter?”

Even to a relative stranger, it was hard for him to admit that he was suffering. His entire body ached worse than it ever had before, had since the moment he’d woken up in Hemlock’s lab. He’d taken a lot of bad hits in his years but the blast from the shuttle that had blown him off his feet and caused part of the roof to collapse on him had done a number. Everything still hurt, but his ribs hurt worst of all “It’s just my ribs. It’s uncomfortable but not too bad.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly seeing straight through his lie, “I’ll need you to take off your kit so I can take a better look,” You said as you eyed his armour.

Hunter cursed internally, he was now definitely regretting not putting on the clothes Shep had given him. He hadn’t felt comfortable removing his armour just yet, old habits died hard, he supposed but a simple tunic would have made this station a lot easier and less time-consuming. 

You had turned away from him, likely to give him some sense of privacy as he went to work removing the top half of his armour and undersuit. He set his gear aside on the chair in the room neatly before he hauled himself up onto the table, stifling a groan at the pain that laced through him with the movement.

Hearing he was done you turned back around to look at him, approaching the table slowly as though not to spook him. He had to hand it to you, if you were surprised by his state you didn’t let it show. You were pure professionalism as you approached him, eyes taking in the mottling of his skin before your gaze met his. He felt himself tense slightly at your proximity, at this distance, he could see the exact colour of your eyes, and the usual incoherent thoughts he always seemed to get when you were around clouded his mind. 

There was a small smirk on your face as you looked at him and your eyebrow was cocked once more at him as you spoke, “Not too bad, hmm?” 

A small chuckle escaped him before he could stop it and he felt his neck warm once more at being called out, “Well, I’ve had worse…” 

“I don’t doubt that,” You said softly, eyes were warm as you looked at him for a moment. You smelt like the sea combined with something warm and citrusy that he couldn’t name. It was wonderful and with such little distance between the two of you, it was difficult for him to focus on anything else. 

He flinched slightly as your hand gently rested against his left side, pain but also something else entirely shot through him with your touch. He tried to focus on you as you spoke instead of the way his skin was tingling under your touch, “Take a deep breath for me.”

He did as he was told, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. You made a quiet humming noise before your hand moved around towards his back, “Deep breath again.”

You had him repeat that multiple times on each side before you stepped back to get a better look at his face, “Didn’t AZI give you bacta for this? I don’t need my medscanner to tell you’ve got broken ribs.”

He felt his face flush as he spoke, “I uh, told him to save it. We don’t have a lot and my brothers needed it more than I did.” 

Instead of scorn or judgement though, the look you gave him was soft and full of understanding, “I’m sure we can get some more, there’s lots of people on this island who will likely need it at some point. You don’t have to suffer, Hunter.”

The uncomfortable feeling that had been following him around for days was crawling its way back up his throat. He wanted to tell you that he did, that after everything he had failed to do a bit of suffering was the least he deserved. The words almost made their way out before he stopped them and instead, he gave a half-hearted shrug that hurt his ribs, “It’s really not that bad.”

The look you gave him was so knowing that it made his skin crawl. It was like you could see the thoughts currently in his head, but you didn’t push, you simply sighed, “Alright, I know when to admit defeat,” You gave him a soft smile and your hand gently patted his knee once before you turned and made your way to the counter against one wall.

He watched you as you moved methodically, pulling things out of cupboards, and mixing things together. It didn’t take you long to do whatever it was you were doing and when you turned back around you had a small bag of powder in one hand and a jar of what looked like green paste in the other. 

You smiled softly at what he knew was likely a look of skepticism on his face. He knew there was more than one way to heal injuries, that fancy medbays, droids, and bacta weren’t the only things in the galaxy with healing properties but a lifetime of Kaminoan treatment did make him wonder just how effective whatever you had would be. 

“Like I said before, my first recommendation is actually to take the Bacta,” You said as you stopped in front of him once more, “But since I’m assuming that will not happen, you can try this instead.” 

You held up the small bag of powder in your hand first, “Drink a tablespoon of this two times a day, morning and night. My professional tip is to add it to hot tea, it helps with the taste,” You then held up the jar, “And rub this on to your ribs two to three times a day. I’ve adjusted the doses a bit, I’m not exactly sure if it’ll have the same effects as normal given your faster-than-average clone metabolism, but I think it should give you some relief,” You set the bag of powder down beside him on the table as you opened the jar. She put a small amount of her fingers, gesturing towards his ribs with it to let your intentions known. 

He nodded and then his breath caught at the tingling sensation that occurred as you rubbed the salve over his bruised torso,  “And lastly, but most importantly, rest. No heavy lifting, no twisting, no saving civilians. Rest,” You said gently as your hand pulled away from him once the salve was completely rubbed in. He felt his eyes widen at the cooling sensation that suddenly spread beneath where you had applied the salve, it was the first bit of relief he had felt in days. 

“Come back in a few days to see me, I’ll recheck them and if you’re still having pain we can maybe try something else,” You said as you replaced the lid on the salve and put it down beside the bag of powder. 

“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed the top of his blacks and gently pulled it back on over his head. His ribs were still painful but the cooling sensation from the salve was helping a bit. Once it was in place he looked at you again, “What do I owe you?”

You looked momentarily surprised, “You don’t owe me anything Hunter.” 

“I can’t just take this from you and you took the time to see me on your day off,” He protested as the uncomfortable feeling returned. They didn’t have any credits, what they had had from Omega and Crosshair’s gambling adventure had been on The Marauder. He was certain he could find some way to pay everyone back eventually though. He hadn’t quite figured that out yet, but he would.

You shook her head, “No, I don’t do this to make credits, Hunter. I do it to help others. And the lack of excitement on this island means pretty much every day is my day off,” Your gaze was soft and sincere as you looked at him, “Plus, Phee sent you so you automatically get the friends and family discount.” 

He was still hesitant, it was hard to trust the generosity of others. Especially after having spent so long working for Cid and seeing how many in the galaxy operated,  “What’s the friends and family discount?”

“Free,” You replied brightly, patting his knee once more before you retreated, cleaning up the supplies you had left on the counter. He watched you for a moment but when it was clear you would not be changing your mind he sighed and went about putting the top half of his armour back on. 

Hunter was silent as you walked him back towards the front door, he didn’t know what to say, or really how to thank you for helping him but you didn’t seem to be bothered by his silence. You stopped at the door, turning towards him with another bright and warm smile on your face that made his heart rate pick up at an alarming rate. 

“Take it easy, Hunter,” You said gently before your eyes narrowed playfully, “I mean it, rest.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He finally managed to say. Which only made his face flush more, because that was a dumb thing to say. He technically wasn’t a soldier talking to a civilian anymore, and ma’am just sounded old. 

You chuckled softly but before he could do anything else to make a fool of himself he made his way out of your house, looking back once with a wave before he disappeared from sight. He sighed as he walked, now he just needed to figure out how to actually rest. 

*

“New outfit! I like it,” You said with a bright smile as you pushed open your front door. For the second time that week Hunter had found himself standing outside of your house in the early morning only to have you appear moments later with a surfboard in hand. 

“Uh, yeah,” Hunter replied because once again his brain didn’t seem to be able to keep up with the rest of him. He rubbed at the back of his neck as you shut the door behind him before turning to smile at him once more. It had been hard for him to shed his armour, even though he had to admit that no longer having hard plastoid rubbing against his side made a big difference to the pain in his ribs. The simple tunic and pants that Shep had given him felt odd, but he guessed that eventually he’d get used to it. 

“A bit more practical for island life,” You said as you led him towards the medical room, “I could imagine it would be a bit more comfortable too.”

Hunter shrugged, “I was pretty used to the armour,” 

You paused for a moment, seemingly considering his words, “Well, it looks good and your ribs probably thank you.”

He felt his face heat at the looks good comment. He wasn’t unused to attention, but coming from you it felt completely different. Other than a quick night here and there he’d never really had the chance to even think about beyond a simple attraction, never mind anything that even somewhat resembled a relationship. But now, on Pabu with no more battles to fight, the rest of his life stretched out before him, he would be lying if he hadn’t thought about more with greater frequency lately. If your smile had been filling his dreams lately, well, that he would keep to himself. 

“How are they feeling?” You asked, clearly unaware of what your comment had done to him. 

“Better,” Hunter replied, which this time, was not a lie, “You might be a miracle worker,” His ribs, while not fully healed, felt so much better than they had before. The salve and tea had done wonders, he almost felt normal again. Or at the very least like he could get back to carrying things. 

You smiled at him but the sheepish nature of it had him raising his brow questioningly, “Well, I don’t know about miracle worker. It was probably the rest. I roped Omega, Shep, and Phee into making sure you took it easy.”

Their sudden increase in concern and pestering despite him denying any need for help suddenly made a lot more sense. He frowned at you, “I knew that was suspicious.” 

You laughed which did something to him, “I’ll gladly take the credit though. Can I take a look?”

Still reeling from the sound of your laughter he nodded, pulling the tunic off quickly as his face heated once again. You were once again nothing but professional as you examined him, having him repeat the same deep breaths you had early in the week. Meanwhile, he had to count back from 100 to try and keep his mind off of the feeling of your hands on him. 

As your hands ghosted over a particular spot on his ribs he couldn’t help but flinch, a quick hiss of air escaping his lips before he could stop it. 

You froze, hand hovering over his skin as you looked up at him with concern. You were so close that he could see every fleck of colour in your eyes, could hear your heart beating, strong and steady in your chest. Your scent was nearly overwhelming, and he wanted desperately at that moment to close the distance between the two of you.

“Pain?” You asked, breaking him from his thoughts. 

He shook his head, “Cold.” 

“Sorry, it was a pretty chilly swim this morning,” You answered with a shy smile before you placed your hand back on him. He shivered at the contact while trying to remind himself that this was a professional setting and that kissing you would be decidedly unprofessional.  

“It’s ok,” Hunter said, and then because apparently his mouth wasn’t on the same page as his mind, “I don’t mind, feels good actually.” 

At this distance, he didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed slightly or the way your heart rate picked up a notch. It was thrilling, he thought, to know he had at least some effect on you. 

You continued your examination quietly for another moment before you stepped back. An impressed look on your face as you did so, “It’s really incredible how fast you guys heal. You look so much better.”

Another byproduct, with their advanced aging it meant their cells regenerated much faster than average. Quicker maturity and healing with the cost of half the lifespan. 

“Do you still have some of the tea and salve left?” You asked as he pulled his shirt back on. 

“Yeah, about half I would say,” Hunter replied, “It really did seem to make a difference.”

“They both contain a natural painkiller that we’re able to grow here on the island. It’s the main ingredient in bacta, actually," You answered, “I’d keep up with the tea and the salve for the rest of the week. And keep resting, it looks like you’ll be ok in a few days but take it easy. I don’t want you back here because you’ve re-injured yourself. Not that I mind your company, but I’d prefer these visits to be on a non-professional basis.”

Hunter sighed, not liking the idea of staying idle when there was still a lot to be done. He needed to help Rex, the other clones, and never mind the whole house situation. But he wasn’t so stubborn that he couldn’t listen to medical advice, especially not when it actually was making a difference. He followed after you out into your living room, resigned to his fate. His mind however was turning over your last comment, you actually liked his company. Which was, admittedly surprising since he couldn’t seem to string more than a few words together anytime he was around you. 

He paused near your door, his gaze casting around your warm and bright space, a conversation he’d had with Omega earlier suddenly at the forefront of his mind, “Your home is very nicely decorated,” The words felt awkward coming out of his mouth and he instantly cringed. But if you thought he was weird you made no indication of it. 

Instead, you simply smiled at him brightly, “Thank you.” 

“Do you… have any tips? For, uh - decorating?” He asked, his voice stilted as his face began to heat up. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he forged on, “Omega wants to decorate our home and uh… I don’t really know…how?”

Your gaze was so warm that it didn’t help the fluttering in his chest. Your look was completely judgment-free despite it being honestly a ridiculous question, “Well, I don’t really know if I have any tips… I just pick things that speak to me.”

He stared at you blankly, “Speak to you…”

You laughed, the sound once again making him feel as if he were having a mini-heart attack, “Sorry, I guess that does sound pretty silly, but here-” you said as you walked towards one of the tapestries you had hanging on the wall behind your couch. You looked at him for a moment with an easy smile before you gestured to it, “What do you see when you look at this?”

“Uh…” He started then stopped, looking between you and the tapestry, “Blue?”

You laughed again and he was surprised at the soft bark of laughter that escaped him too, it really was ridiculous, “Ok, maybe I started off with too hard of a question” You said, continuing with a soft chuckle. He watched you closely as you turned your head back to look at it, a wistful expression overtaking your face, “When I look at it, the colours remind me of the ocean. The very first time I saw it I had the same feeling I get when I look out at the sea and I decided I wanted to get that feeling even when I’m in my home.” 

He looked back at the tapestry and its multiple shades of blues and whites woven together, it was quite nice. And the longer he looked at it he supposed he could see how the colours were similar to the ocean, “Oh, uh, yah.”

“Did you ever have posters up in your barracks or ship? Or see art or a picture that maybe you feel something?” You asked, amusement colouring your face. 

A wave of embarrassment rushed through him, “Well yah, but uh - I don’t think that’s very appropriate for a house with a kid in it.” The scantily clad picture of Senator Amidala that had once adorned the nose of The Marauder before General Skywalker got wind of it was the first thing that came to mind. 

You chuckled, “Ok, yes, maybe not like that. But obviously, there was something about those posters that you liked... some sort of feeling you got when you looked at them…”

“Arousal?” He teased before he could stop himself. He immediately felt embarrassed by his inability to keep his mouth shut but it seemed he didn’t need to worry about that. 

Your head tipped back as you laughed and your hand came up to rest on his arm, as if to steady yourself while you did so. A small thrill rushed through him at the sound. It had been a long time since he had made someone other than Omega laugh like that. 

“I walked right into that answer,” You said once your laughter had died down, “Let me correct myself, we’re looking for a different emotion.. happy, calm, peace, joy… something along those lines.”

“This all sounds a lot more difficult than I was expecting,” Hunter replied with a gruff chuckle. 

You laughed again as you squeezed his bicep gently, “Try not to overthink it, when you know, you’ll know.” 

“Sure…” He said, though what he wanted to say was that it all sounded like a load of poodoo to him. 

Clearly, his skepticism was showing because you chuckled again as your hand moved from his arm, “How about this, every few months we host a market on the island where all the bakers, crafters, makers, artists, anyone and everyone get together to trade and sell their wears. It’s in a few weeks, how about we go, you bring Omega, and maybe the three of us can find some things that speak to you?” 

“Ok,” Hunter agreed before he even fully processed what you had proposed. 

“Great,” You said with another beaming smile, “It’s a date.” 

Hunter felt everything inside of him freeze, his brain short-circuiting, “It’s a date,” He found himself repeating so quickly that embarrassment coloured his face. 

Your answering smile was worth every painful moment he’d ever experienced in his short life as the two of you walked towards the front door. You leaned casually against the door frame once Hunter had passed through, arms crossed over your chest, expression warm, “Great. See you later, Hunter. And remember, take care of those ribs.” 

He nodded, not trusting himself to say something else ridiculous before he left, giving you a quick wave over his shoulder as he headed back up the hill toward his own home. 

He still might not like medical treatment or know anything about decorating. But he had a much better idea of what spoke to him. Now, he just had to figure out what one actually did on a real date. 

[lonesilverw0lf]

Chess student: The cult has become locked itself in this building, we need to clear them out.

Football student: We know where they are, so let’s just bum rush them and take ‘em out.

CS: Don’t be rash. We have to do this methodically so we ensure they’re gone for good.

FS: We have them cornered, just get in there and get it done.

CS: We don’t know how many of them are left, what kind of traps they have, escape routes, or what. We can’t take any chances that they’ve set a trap themselves or that they can escape.

FS: They just got in there after two days of running. They’ve been caught with their pants down! We need to bust down the walls before they have a chance to rest and regroup!

CS: Or walk right into a trap? This is the real deal, we can’t make any half baked decisions.

FS: You’re not the active type, even back in school. You don’t have any idea on what actually goes down in the split seconds, nor any say on what it takes. You’ll let a perfectly good opportunity waltz by as you try to come up with some half clever scheme!

CS: You’ve never thought ahead once in your life. You always rush headlong into things and end up in a bigger mess than what was originally there. Or even create a mess because you didn’t know left from right!

FS: At least I choose to do something instead of sit back like a coward!

CS: I’ve seen better intelligence in a monkey than anything you try to pull!

???: Guys!

FS and CS: WHAT?!

Art Student: You two need to find something to make up, your arguments almost broke my concentration several times. Guh. My farsighted isn’t great, but I did manage to get as much information on the inside as I could. *hands over a stack of papers with sketches of the building and the insides*

CS: That’s great! The more intelligence we have the better we can plan ahead.

FS: Just point out where the boss man is so I can get in there and knock his head in.

AS: At least tell me you can tell what it’s supposed to be? I’m an abstract expressionist not a realist.

FS: Looks clear enough for me.

CS, flipping through the drawings: Ok, so a dozen and so cultists, a couple of horses, a loft, I guess that’s a weapons rack, so far so expected. Hey, what’s the story with this one?

AS: Which one? Sorry my headache hasn’t given me my sight yet so everything’s kinda blurry still.

CS: The one guy with more details than the rest.

AS: Dunno yet. I can only draw what I see using my Sight. I don’t know what it is I’m looking at until I see what I drew.

FS: That sounds stupid.

AS: They say that it’ll get better with time. Right now I’m too low level for that. Huh, that one guy is a lot more detailed than the rest. Weird.

CS: I didn’t get all the details on your Ability. Why is this so important?

AS: My mentor said something about things that I’m more familiar with tend to come out clearer. People I know, places I frequent, they stick out a lot more. Even if the place has changed significantly like a fire or battle happened, or if a person is wearing a disguise or something.

FS: So who would be so familiar to you in this random group of cultists?

Realization dawns on the assembled trio.

FS: Ok CS, your plan is good. We surround the building and- huh?

AS: I just blinked. Where did CS go?

CS, punching a hole into the wall of the building like the Kool Aid man: YIPPE KAI YAY MOTHER FUCKERS!! WHERE YOU AT BLORBO?!

MC, who infiltrated the Cult to feed the local militia information: How the hell do you guys keep finding me?!

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[kathlare]

sand traps

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando’s attempt to find solace on the golf course turns into an uncomfortable confrontation with ghosts from his past.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

May 4th, 2023 - Miami, FL

The Florida sun was unforgiving as Lando stepped out of his car, slinging his golf bag over his shoulder and adjusting his cap. A day on the golf course was exactly what he needed to unwind before the Miami Grand Prix—a chance to clear his head, escape the relentless pressure of racing, and enjoy the company of Zak Brown and a few other McLaren bigwigs. Golf was his sanctuary, a sport he loved nearly as much as racing, though he’d never admit that publicly.

As he walked toward the clubhouse, he spotted Zak waiting near the first tee, chatting with a couple of other McLaren sponsors. Lando waved, quickening his pace, but as he drew closer, his stomach dropped. Standing beside Zak, dressed in casual golf attire with an unmistakable air of authority, was him.

Elias Dayman.

Amelie’s father.

And next to him, leaning lazily against his own golf bag with a sly grin on his face, was Jack Dayman.

Lando’s heart sank. Of all the people he could’ve bumped into today, why them? He hadn’t seen Elias or Jack since… well, since everything had fallen apart with Amelie. Back when he and Amelie were close, he’d been practically part of their family, spending holidays at their house, sharing laughs with Jack over video games, and earning that warm, approving smile from Elias that made him feel like he truly belonged.

But today, there was no warmth in Elias’ gaze. No approving smile. Just a cold, hard glare that made Lando feel like a scolded schoolboy before a word had even been exchanged.

—Lando,— Zak called out, oblivious to the tension as he clapped a hand on Lando’s shoulder. —Glad you made it. You’ve met Elias Dayman, haven’t you? And his son, Jack.—

Lando swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile as he extended his hand. —Of course. Nice to see you again, Mr. Dayman.—

Elias shook his hand briefly, his grip firm and unyielding. —Lando,— he said, his tone neutral but his eyes burning with an intensity that made Lando want to disappear into the nearest sand trap.

Jack, on the other hand, didn’t bother hiding his amusement. —Lando,— he said, his grin widening. —Didn’t think we’d be seeing you here.—

—Yeah,— Lando replied, trying to keep his tone light. —Small world, I guess.—

Zak, blissfully unaware of the awkward undercurrent, ushered everyone toward the first hole, chatting about the Grand Prix weekend and McLaren’s plans for the season. Lando tried to focus on the conversation, but he could feel Elias’ eyes on him, watching his every move like a hawk.

As the game progressed, Lando’s usual confidence on the course began to waver. He couldn’t shake the weight of Elias’ silent judgment or the occasional smirk from Jack, who seemed to be enjoying his discomfort a little too much. Lando kept his head down, focusing on his swing, but every missed putt felt like a metaphor for his current situation—off balance, out of sync, and underperforming.

By the time they reached the ninth hole, the tension was unbearable. Lando was standing by his bag, adjusting his glove, when Elias finally spoke.

—You’ve got a good swing,— Elias said, his tone casual but his words laced with something far more cutting. —Shame your follow-through doesn’t always hit the mark.—

Lando froze, his stomach twisting. He knew a double meaning when he heard one.

—Thanks,— he said cautiously, not daring to look up.

Elias took a step closer, lowering his voice so only Lando could hear. —You know, I used to think you were different. Thought you cared about my daughter. Thought you respected her. But I guess I was wrong.—

Lando’s chest tightened, his hands gripping the edge of his golf bag as he struggled to find the right words.

—Mr. Dayman, I...—

—Don’t,— Elias interrupted, his voice sharp but calm. —Don’t insult me with excuses. You had her trust, her heart, and you threw it away like it was nothing. You think I don’t know how you broke her?—

Lando’s throat was dry, his mind racing as he tried to process the weight of Elias’ words.

—I didn’t mean to...—

—Didn’t mean to?— Elias echoed, his voice rising slightly. —Do you have any idea what she went through because of you? Do you even care?—

—Dad, come on,— Jack interjected, stepping between them before things could escalate further. —We’re here to play golf, not rehash ancient history.—

Elias didn’t take his eyes off Lando, his jaw clenched tightly. —Just remember this, Norris. You stay away from her. You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t even think about her. You’re not welcome anywhere near my daughter.—

Lando nodded stiffly, his head bowed as Jack gently steered Elias away toward the cart. The rest of the round passed in a blur, Lando barely registering the conversation around him as he replayed Elias’ words over and over in his head.

The remainder of the golf outing was a slow-moving nightmare for Lando. Each swing of his club felt heavier, each hole longer. The once-enjoyable game had turned into an exercise in endurance, with Elias’ words echoing in his mind like a relentless mantra.

You stay away from her. You’re not welcome anywhere near my daughter.

By the time they reached the eighteenth hole, Lando’s patience—and his composure—were wearing thin. He had been trying to focus on the game, but every glance from Elias felt like a dagger, and Jack’s occasional smirks weren’t helping. Zak, still unaware of the tension, was chatting animatedly about an upcoming McLaren event, blissfully ignorant of the turmoil unfolding under his nose.

As they wrapped up the game, Zak clapped Lando on the shoulder. —Not your best day, mate, but hey, at least you’re better on the track.—

Lando forced a smile, mumbling something noncommittal as they headed back to the clubhouse. He just wanted to get out of there, away from Elias’ piercing gaze and the unspoken weight of Jack’s presence.

Once inside, Zak excused himself to chat with a sponsor, leaving Lando to pack up his gear. As he bent to retrieve his bag, Jack appeared beside him, leaning casually against the locker.

—Rough day, huh?— Jack said, his tone light but laced with amusement.

Lando straightened, his jaw tightening. —Something like that.—

Jack chuckled, crossing his arms. —You’re lucky, you know. Dad kept it relatively civil. I thought he was going to bury you in the sand trap back on the ninth.—

Lando shot him a look, unsure whether Jack was joking or not. —Yeah, I got that impression.—

—Look, Lando,— Jack said, his tone softening slightly. —I get it. Things happen. Relationships fall apart. But Amelie? She’s not just some girl. She’s Amelie. You were practically family to us, and you—well, you fucked it up. Royally.—

Lando swallowed hard, his throat dry. —I know I did. I didn’t mean for it to...—

—Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t,— Jack interrupted, his voice sharp. —But intentions don’t mean shit when the outcome’s the same. She trusted you, man. We all did. And now? You’re just a sore spot in her story.—

Lando flinched at the words, the weight of them hitting harder than any of Elias’ glares. —I didn’t want to hurt her. I... I cared about her. A lot.—

Jack studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. —Maybe you did. Maybe you still do. But caring about someone isn’t enough if you can’t show up for them. And you didn’t.—

Lando wanted to argue, to explain, but what could he say? Jack was right. He hadn’t been there for Amelie when it mattered most. He had let her down, and the damage was done.

—For what it’s worth,— Jack added, his tone softer now, —I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Lando. Just a dumbass who didn’t know what he had until it was gone.—

With that, Jack pushed off the locker and walked away, leaving Lando standing alone with his thoughts. The truth stung, but he couldn’t deny it. He had lost Amelie, not just as a lover, but as a friend, as someone he could rely on. And now, her family, the people who once welcomed him with open arms, saw him as nothing more than a mistake.

As Lando stepped out into the Miami heat, his chest felt tight. Golf had always been his escape, but today, it had been anything but. Instead, it had become a harsh reminder of the bridges he had burned and the person he used to be.

And as he climbed into his car and drove away, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find a way to make things right—or if he even deserved to.

[guywhowatches]

You opened the door into the kitchen and turned around to quickly close it. You then turned back around, only for a horrifying sight to meet your eyes. Your stepdad was sitting on a stool at the table, with his jeans pulled down and pants riding up him, exposing his hairy, musky ass. He appeared to be eating something rather loudly. The sight revolted you and made you want to scarper before he discovered you were in the room.

You'd never liked your stepdad, from the day you first properly met him, he was always so cruel to you. He would regularly visit the gym and workout, meaning he constantly stank of sweat. But that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was, because of his gym diet, he would often rip the most revolting farts imaginable. And worse, he'd always seemed to do them around you deliberately and laugh as you would cough and gag on the stench. He always said it was the stink of a 'real man' and that you should get used to it, or that you were 'weak and pathetic'. So of course, you didn't want to be noticed by him.

Frrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaapppppppppppppp!

Just as you were thinking this over, a loud fart boomed out across the room. You jumped in shock as you looked over at the obvious source of the noise. Your stepdad just sighed and chuckled heartily, before going back to eating. You had to get out of the way before the smell hit you.

Maybe you could try hiding in the bathroom, as the entrance to it was right near and it was slightly ajar, meaning it wouldn't make a sound. You crept over to it, and began to open it when you suddenly lurched and gagged loudly. The second the door was fully opened you were hit with a combined smell of eggs and shit. It was unbearable and you leaned over coughing loudly as the stink burned your nose. Unfortunately, this loud reaction drew the attention of a certain someone.

"Ha, I wouldn't go in there if I had a weak nose like yours boy. Those eggs and protein shakes just went right through me this morning." Your stepdad said, looking back at you smiling meanly. You couldn't believe that. How did it still stink of his morning dump, when it was nearly the evening?

"But I guess that's hard for you, being so pathetic and all." He now got up from his seat and made his way over to you, still grinning menacingly. You wanted to try and run away, but your mind was still boggled by the smell from the bathroom and wasn't allowing you to kick into action.

"I nearly expected better from you, but honestly I couldn't even do that. Seems like you need a reminder of who's in charge here." And then, before you could make a run for it, he grabbed by the back of the neck and forced you into position. You couldn't move at all, with the strong grip he had on you.

Then, to your continued horror, he turned around facing away from you and pulled down his pants, his ass now fully on display. It came as no shock to you that it absolutely reeked. It smelt like he hadn't even properly wiped after his previous toilet usage. It was too repulsive for you.

"Let's see if you can survive the smell my lunch burrito coming out the other end." That explains what he was eating. And, before you could object, he grunted loudly.

FFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAARRRRRRPPPPPTTTT

BBBBBBRRRRRAFFFFFFFFFFFFFFPPPPPPPPPTTTTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPPTTTT

The slew of farts blasted against your face with no protection between you and his colossal ass. The stink was unbearable and you felt like were going to pass out. Your stepdad just looked down and laughed at you.

"Are you giving up already? That's just sad. I've ripped worse ones at the gym. Yet you can't handle a few measly puffs? Well, perhaps this'll set you straight." He then grunted again, much to your demise.

BBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTTRRRRRPPPPPPP

FFFFFFFRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTT

BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRAMMMMMMMPPPPPTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFF

BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRAMMMMMMMPPPPPTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT

He was truly was a gasbag that seemed to have a never ending supply, that would always be used to torment you. You couldn't handle it any more, as your brain began to shut down due to no clean oxygen in the room anymore.

You then felt him let go of you, as you passed out onto the floor. As your eyes were closing, the last thing you saw was your stepdad bending over you.

"And don't you ever forget who's in charge around here." He said, grinning at you wickedly. You couldn't keep dealing with this, you had to move out soon.

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Credit to @beefybunzz for the pic.

Hope you guys enjoy