#PLEASE if it shows in the tag LET ME KNOW and i'll take measures! i don't want to bother the other ppl who like them

[cosmorom]

atsuhina for the shit bingo i mean ship bingo 💛🧡

CRYING I KNEW IT WAS COMING. i knew it... please don't appear in the a****na tag... please.

REMEMBER IT'S MY OPINION AND MY OPINION ONLY! SHIP WHOEVER YOU WANT (do it far from me tho)

i swear i'm not that mean. i just can't stand them together as a romantic pair. they're a funny duo and everything but NO. no no no no. keep it far from me.

they wouldn't be so annoying as a pairing if it wasn't for the most of the fandom and their fanon versions i swear.

[graywaynewriter]

Bruce Wayne and daughter reader meets Damian for the first time

Brother ?

a/n: here I’ll just refer to daughter reader as daughter Wayne in case if anyone is looking for it in the tags

It was yet another late night, waiting on your father to come back from patrol. You weren’t too busy that night so you had to wait for him while you monitored some of the screens with Alfred. It wasn’t unusual for him to take longer than he said he would since so many unexpected twists, and turns can happen with an expanse of time. However, later on he pinged you letting you know, he was on his way home and to have the entrance of the Batcave, ready.

As the dark machine rolls into the Batcave, it’s engine comes to a halt as the latch opens, and Bruce steps out. However, this time he had company with him, he had a young boy who looked no older than 13 years old he thought to yourself that he probably brought home another robin so you stand up and approach them and say

“ Another robin?” You ask with a slight smile, however Bruce‘s face does not change. Instead of him answering the young boy answered instead.

“ more like the heir to Wayne Enterprises,” he crosses his arms as he scans your body up and down “who are you?”

“Hu-“ you were beyond confused because as far as you know, you were Bruce Wayne‘s only child.

“Damian is my son, Y/N….he’s your brother.” Bruce explains briefly “it’s a long story having to do with Talia. I’ll explain what happened later.

Is he still there processing the information Damien decides to start circling you like a vulture and observing your figure and trying to read you

“Hm, you don’t look like a fighter, but I suppose every family supposed to have a child who is just for show” he said, as he stopped and looked back to your face. And with a straight face, he says “ you’d be in much better shape if you actually worked out. Maybe one day you’ll even measure up to me”

All you do is stare at this random kid that just pulled up with your father as he criticize you in your skills. Sure you didn’t go on any patrol, but that was all by choice.

“…. So not only does he look like you, but he has to say everything that’s on his mind it seems” your eyebrows furrow as you look at your father trying to subconsciously ask him what in the hell is going on

“That’s enough Damian,” Bruce steps in and looks to Alfred “Alfred, could you please take Damien to the room that he will be staying in”

"Of course Master Bruce, this way Master Damian," you remain quiet as you watch the two exit the Batcave and you look back to your father.

"So....I have a brother huh?"

"It seems that way Y/N," Bruce said in his low gruff voice "this information is just as new to me as it is to you. I know Damian is....a handful, but we need to try. His life would be better here than with the league," he said resting a hand on your shoulder.

"I suppose so....you don't think he'll cause trouble do you?" you asked

"well....I hope he doesn't But I'll be sure to keep an eye on him,"

Next thing you know you were watching Damian shred up the garden shrubs with Alfred the next morning. You both jut sip on some tea Alfred had brewed up for you.

"So, why is he doing this?" you asked as he took the head off of the shrub in the shape of a bear

"Training, I was told at least," Alfred answers as Bruce walks into the kitchen ready to head into the office

"Well as long as he doesn't touch my-NOOOO!" with a quick slice the bush of hibiscus flowers was cut in half and you freak out "MY FLOWERS! DAD!"

Setting your cup down your rub out into the garden barefoot and start waving yours arms around. While Alfred and Bruce watch from the window as you scold Damian for the brutal damage to your favorite bush. Bruce lets out a sigh and Alfred adds,

"I will call the gardener and landscaper,"

"Thank you Alfred" Bruce sighs as he watches you both start to argue back and forth. He had to go and step in before anything got out of hand.

The following weeks were just the same. Start off pretty tame, and argument happens and you were bother bickering as most siblings do. He had even had his moments with your father and even Nightwing. To the point where Alfred had to stitch him up because of the fight they had gotten into while he was out on patrol.

He seen that almost anyone he ran into he pick a fight with. Whether that was verbal or physical or even both. However, sometimes you would see him sit on his own and just contemplate about things. You couldn’t exactly put your finger on what could be on his mind, but in a way it did make you sad. All he ever knew was the league of assassins, it was like he had no childhood no fun on top of that. He never really knew your father.

It’s like you got to enjoy Bruce without him being around and this is his first time being an actual child to a father. Even though he was so stubborn about it and insisted on being an adult at the ripe age of 14.

In the following weeks, you even try to get up at around the time that he did. Which was around five in the morning, which is absolutely insane, but you would try to wake up either way and make breakfast for him. It was a small star, but it was something to show him how different life could be.

Perhaps having your blood related, brother, suddenly appear, wouldn’t be such a burden as it once seemed. Although he may clash with you and almost everyone around him, you think he just may need some guidance. He definitely needs a lot of time to adjust. But there are times you would look at him and you would just see a smaller version of your father, especially when it came to training or bettering himself.

And even when you thought he would bring nothing but trouble you can see just a sliver of light in his eyes. And there was no doubt that he had gotten it from Bruce. Maybe having a brother wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

🦇Taglist:

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday - Johnny Storm

Summary: Johnny is a natural when it comes to cyber security but he has to tread lightly.

Warnings: None at this point. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Johnny was flummoxed. Every attempt he made to contact his hacker connections, he hit a wall. He'd been blocked from all the usual places, and several of the unusual ones. Everywhere his hacker persona went, he was denied access.

What the hell is going on? Johnny thinks to himself.

He tries sending out DMs to various hackers. The only one to respond is you, DarkAngel2000.

DarkAngel2000: Well hello there, Mr. Storm. TheHumanTorch69: Who? What the hell is going on? DarkAngel2000: C'mon Johnny. Did you really think I wouldn't catch on?

He's about to type a response but you beat him to the punch by sending him a copy of his work ID card. He rubs his face for a few seconds, trying to think about how to carefully handle this.

HumanTorch: Who the hell is that?!

You'd laugh if it weren't so sad. He's clearly grasping at straws. But you know better. He's on their side. Worst of all, he lied to you about it and sabotaged your own work. Sure, it wasn't legal work. But it paid well and you had a reputation to maintain.

DarkAngel: Silly boy. Stop trying to deny it. I have you figured out and have warned the others about you. HumanTorch: YOU DOXED ME?! DarkAngel: Not yet. I simply showed them the proof that you were playing both sides. I decided to give you a chance to make it worth my while to not give out your personal information.

Johnny takes a breath. You're clearly not someone to be messed with but he is not about to give up his office. Yeah, it's just a job but it's a job that pays well, lets him work with good people, and they never nag him about what previous jobs dubbed "unprofessional behaviors". These people have his loyalty and he will not sell them out.

HumanTorch: What do you want? DarkAngel: That's more like it. I want credentials. HumanTorch: For this company? Not happening. I like these people. DarkAngel: Oooo! You're a loyal puppy, huh? Well, loyal to those who pay you. HumanTorch: They're good people. DarkAngel: I suppose we can compromise, then. You are rather skilled. I'm sure I'll have some other project for you to work on. I'll send you the details later, Mr. Storm.

Johnny flinches at that. You know his name, his face and the company he works for. No doubt you know everything else about him as well. At least you were willing to help him keep his job. Johnny starts working out a plan for reinforcing his personal privacy measures. He seriously doubts you'll let it go at just one job. He's got skills and he doesn't feel like being blackmailed into using them.

Maybe he should look into finding you.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen;

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly

[nowoyas]

koi no yokan 38: love is stored in the kitchen (nishinoya yuu/reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list 1-30 - M.list 30-60 - Ao3

A/N: hi. please go look at this. please.

Summary: Despite everything, Nishinoya Yuu is going to learn how to cut an onion.

Warnings and Tags: food-heavy chapter, not much else

Word Count: 2700+

You've started to realize that you like your house better with Noya in it.

Maybe it's the fact that the house isn't empty when you walk in together for his cooking lesson—your dad's working late again, which for once, doesn't feel like a slight. Maybe it's the way he nods to the butsudan on his way in and leaves you misty-eyed when he calls out a muted "I'm home" to the picture of your mother. Maybe it's the newfound purpose to every motion of preparing to cook—wiping down the counter, tying on an apron, and even washing your hands feels like it matters so much more with Noya watching. Maybe that's the reason for your weird mood, all bubbly and goofy.

"I like your apron," he teases, eyes trailing down your body appreciatively, like you're wearing anything more unusual than your school uniform with a plain gray apron over the front. It's only mostly plain, you suppose—there's a little frilly trim that had once been pure white, before years of cooking had stained it in everything from orange juice to blood. "Very wifey."

"Aw, thanks," you chirp, approaching him with intent. "I'm glad you like it."

Before he can reply, you snatch another apron—this one a dark blue—off the nearby hook and yank it over his head.

"You're also going to be wearing one. Especially since we're going to be frying food today. You can normally cook without an apron if you really want, but you're in your school uniform, so you might want to try protecting it." Just for good measure, you find the strings and wrap them around his waist—it's laughably easy to get a full loop, not the mention the way his cheeks flare as you tie a little bow. "You can just let the strings hang in the back, but this way, you can loop a towel on 'em for ease of access."

"I-I could have put it on myself, you know."

You fail to suppress a grin. Even rarer than coming home and not feeling the usual ache is Noya's embarrassment. A stammer could be considered unheard of in some circles. You'll be riding this high for a week. "I'm sure you could have. C'mon, step one is wash your hands. I'll start setting everything out while you do that."

Like this, you ease into his presence in your home. It's strange for him to linger—it's always been his place, his kitchen, his life wrapping around yours. As you tell him about mise en place⁵³ and chicken prep, he nods seriously, brow furrowed like he's really trying to hold onto the information you're giving him.

He takes instruction much better than the first time—likely because you're actually instructing him, rather than simply trying to distract him from his own thoughts. You show him how to prep half the meat, then hand him the knife to do the other half, watching closely and instructing him on how to adjust his grip before you have to bandage his fingers.

He takes instruction very, very well, until the moment you have to teach him how to cut an onion. Then, immediately, a pout, the killer kind a lesser teacher might bow to.

You are not a lesser teacher.

"I know you don't like the texture, but you gotta learn knife basics. This is good practice."

"But [name]-san…"

"You wanted me to teach you, right? You can cut 'em big so they're easy to pick out."

"Why are we even cutting onions?" he complains. "We were doing karaage."

"We were, you're right. Karaage's dinner. We're also making tomorrow's lunch."

He sighs, picks up the knife with one last withering look your way. "It's like you don't even like me."

"This'll be the only time I force you to work with onions, alright? Weren't you saying you wanted to learn to cook for your future wife or something? Your future wife likes onions."

Silence. He stares at you, knife in hand, face reddening, and—

Ah, shit. Right. You said that.

"Show me how to cut them?"

Your own face feels hot as you show him the technique, stammering some verbal instruction that you barely remember, even as you're saying it. When you step aside and pass him the knife, he holds it the way you showed him before—he really is taking instruction well.

"You're kind of a natural at this," you mumble as you watch him work. "Are you sure you need my help?"

"Wait until you see me try to follow a recipe without my future wife helping me," he mumbles.

You stop yourself just short of hitting his shoulder out of embarrassment. "Shush. B-besides, once you get the basics down, you won't even need a recipe. You're probably a better chef than cook."

"What's the difference?"

"I'm a good cook. I can look at a recipe and execute it. I kinda suck at cooking without a recipe, though. But you're always really good at going with the flow and stuff. I think you'll probably be able to throw together some really good stuff once you know how to throw it."

He laughs softly. "Stop complimenting me right after you just called yourself my future wife. I'm gonna pass out."

The startled laugh overpowers the embarrassment. "You will not. You can propose to me more than three hundred times, but you can't take one suggestion that it might go somewhere?"

"Not followed by compliments. Compliments are lethal. You disarmed me and then you went for the throat."

"I'll keep that in mind." You stifle a lingering giggle, turn away to focus on the next step. You're balancing a couple of recipes—running the rice cooker, making miso soup, prepping ingredients for the oyakodon you're turning into tomorrow's lunches. Admittedly, it's an ambitious project to balance with teaching, but it's going well. The chicken for the karaage is marinating, Noya's slicing the onions properly, and all it took was the sacrifice of all your dignity to get him to do it without complaining.

It takes until the karaage's done marinating for your face to stop feeling hot, and then comes the fun part.

You get to outsource the tedious task of breading all that chicken to a willing victim. You show Noya how to dredge it—first in flour, then in potato starch—and try not to tease him too hard when he fumbles with the chopsticks.⁵⁵

"You can also just use your hands," you tease. "The chopsticks are just to keep it from building up on your fingers."

"No, I got this," he insists. "I can use chopsticks."

"You can use chopsticks!" you chirp in reply, nodding.

He shoots you a heatless glare. "I'm about to dredge you in flour and potato starch."

"Will you also fry me gently at 160 Celsius until golden? Ooh, will you let me rest and then put me back in at 180 Celsius for forty-five seconds?" You bat your eyelashes at him. Feign an exaggerated gasp. "Will you serve me with lemon?"

He bites back on a laugh. "No, I'm gonna serve you plain. Room temperature, even."

"You wouldn't."

He raises an eyebrow. "Try me."

"I'll put extra onions in your bento."

"You wouldn't."

"Serve me hot, then," you shrug.

"You're always hot," he complains. "Best I can do is the lemon."

"I'll take the lemon."

As he finally gets the chicken breaded properly, you move to frying it. He watches you drop a few pieces at a time into the oil, listens to your explanation about controlling oil temperature and cleaning between batches.

"You don't fry a lot, do you?" he asks.

You shrug. "Not really. It's an awful lot of effort, and even with the window open, it'll be hard to get the oil smell out for a few days."

He hums thoughtfully. "We'll have to see if it's worth it."

You work together for the rest—when he's done prepping the chicken for frying, you swap so that he's babysitting the fryer while you clean up. You take the opportunity to flick some flour at him, and he jerks away, grin blinding. "Hey! You could have actually gotten that on me!"

"Oh, like you'd even notice. You got it in your hair, look." You reach up with powdery fingers, rub that maddening golden tuft between your fingers until you're sure that you've gotten some flour—probably also some potato starch—good and in there.

He blinks. He processes. And before he can lunge at you, you step back, quirking your lips in a smile.

"Eyes on the pot of boiling oil, hotshot," you tease.

He narrows his eyes. "I'm starting to think you're a little bit evil."

You're sure that later he's gonna find some way to get you back for this. You'll be tackled, teased into submission. He'll find some way to totally ruin your dignity. For now, you finish cooking together—the karaage goes in for the second fry, you each make oyakodon for tomorrow's lunches, and when he borrows your shower to blitz the potato starch out of his hair, you take the liberty of wrapping up both bento⁵⁶, taking note of which one Noya made—containing all the onions despite his poutiest efforts—and which one you made as you wrap them.

When he returns, he's opted for no shirt to complete the wet-hair look. You roll your eyes in immediate reply. "Why topless?"

"Had to take my shirt off to wash my hair out after someone put flour in it."

"Potato starch," you correct with a cheeky grin.

"How can you even tell? They're both white."

"Texture. The potato starch is, like, silkier than flour. And it clumps different. Also, you do know how to put your shirt back on, right?"

He rolls his eyes. "Not until after we've eaten. Just to spite you."

Well, you won't complain.

"You didn't already try it, did you?"

"Nope. I was waiting on someone to wash the vanity out of his hair." Again he narrows his eyes. You smile sweetly. "I already got everything together, so let's eat."

At the table, he allows you the first bite. The flavor blooms in your mouth, light and warm and delicious and spreading throughout your body as your eyes drift closed. You sigh, blindly reach for another bite.

Noya stifles a laugh. "That good?"

You nod, dopey smile on your lips. "Really good."

"Do you feel loved?"

Another nod, mindless.

You do feel loved.

When you open your eyes, he's just watching you across the table, eyes soft. "Good. Got it right, then."

You fight down the urge to shy away. Noya has this way of doing this to you, making you feel impossibly vulnerable over something as dumb as trying the first bite of fresh karaage. "Eat your food. It's the first thing you've made yourself, right? You don't wanna let it get cold."

"Right, right. Thanks for the food."

He turns to his own karaage bowl, and you stare down at the table, smiling at your dinner like an idiot.

The truth is, you could count on one hand the number of times you've felt really loved in this house in the past two years. One split second, when your father went out to buy a cake the moment he realized he forgot your birthday. The rest—Noya sitting outside your door, refusing to leave until he knew you were okay. Noya, hugging you gently while you made curry, choked up after finally confessing to someone what happened to your mom. Noya, sitting across from you at the dinner table, watching you eat food you made together, food you made because he wanted to know how to make it, because you said it felt like love, because you said you ate it when you needed comfort. Just Noya, Noya, Noya.

You rest your cheek in one hand as you eat. Hope that's enough to cover the tear that slips down your cheek.

I'm being so stupid.

~

Yuu nearly forgot that the two of you made today's lunch together. He was slightly dreading the damn onions you'd insisted on, sure, but when lunchtime comes, he still feels almost excited, and not for the usual reasons—talking to friends or tracking you down, not being in class, eating in general because he's normally starved half to death by lunchtime.

Onions and all, it's food he made with you.

And then he unwraps his bento.

That's not his box.

He lets his feet carry him out of the room, bento half-secured in his hand.

~

"Hey, Yacchan."

Yachi picks her head up, turns in her seat. "What is it?"

"It's like, super shitty to break up with someone over text, right?"

She jolts, eyes wide as she leans in. "Are you gonna break up with him?" she whispers.

You toy with the edges of the bow on your bento, rubbing the cloth between index finger and thumb. In a way, you feel like you haven't left last night, haven't left giggling and cleaning up the kitchen with Noya. You're half-giddy, half-contemplative, all resolve. "Like, that's not something good people do, right? You've gotta break up in person."

She furrows her brow. "Well, ideally, yeah, I think so? Breaking up over text is kinda mean. I'd want someone to at least look at me while they're breaking up with me. B-but, I mean…"

You groan. "I don't know how to even do it. Last time I had a breakup, I didn't handle it well."

She blinks. "You've dated before?"

"Yeah. We, uh… we had a big fight, and I just never talked to he—him⁵⁷ again."

"That's awful." She starts to say something else, but the both of you cut off in a yelp as someone slams two hands down on your desk.

"Hi."

You blink. "Hi, Senpai."

"Lunch."

You glance at Yachi, an amused smile crossing your lips. "I need more words than that."

"Did you swap them on purpose?"

Ah. He figured it out. "Uh, yeah. The batch you made had onions, remember? I didn't put any in mine. I just wanted you to learn to work with them. You don't gotta eat 'em."

"You do love me!"

"Oh, hold on—"

He snatches your still-wrapped bento off the desk, grabs your wrist in his other hand. "Yachi-san! Sorry for stealing her."

Yachi laughs, shakes her head. "It's okay. See you guys later!"

You let him drag you outside without complaint, to sit below the sky, to eat together uninterrupted, the way you should have weeks ago. Head on his shoulder, basking in the sunlight and each other.⁵⁸

You hope he never gives up on you.

(Times Noya's held back: 35)

53. Mise en place - a culinary term meaning something like "everything in its place". The short version, "get the shit you need out and on the counter before you start cooking. Yes, all of it." It's French⁵⁴, I believe.

54. Sorry.

55. If you're semi-decent with chopsticks, I cannot recommend breading things using them enough. I hate trying to bread chicken with my bare hands because you eventually also start breading your fingers in layers and layers and layers and—you get the idea. It takes some practice, but once I figured out I could bread with chopsticks it changed my life.

56. I hate this word man. It's Japanese so the plural is also "bento". That looks wrong because 99% of everything else is in English. I can't make myself type "b*ntos". Nightmare dimension.

57. Third person pronouns in Japanese are actually used pretty rarely, and it's considered far more polite to just use the person's name if you're gonna use anything at all, but most of the time you can just kind of… skip it, and if the person you're talking to gets confused, you can clarify. In this case, Reader actually cuts off "Kasumi" into "he" in Japanese here—Kasumi into 彼 ("kare") as a slick way to slide that closet door back closed. It's definitely a more elegant save in Japanese.

58. Originally, I had a more fleshed-out rooftop scene here. It didn't serve much more purpose than to be more fluff, and I couldn't quite give it a reason to exist beyond "they had a rooftop date redo and it went well this time". The main reason I'm even mentioning it is because we had, in the background, Yachi running interference to keep a certain someone from showing up, and I feel that her valiant actions during that scene deserve at least a mention. Thanks, Yacchan. You're a real one.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @kazunish

[shirohige-pirates]

Hey Doll

CisFem Reader x Thatch

CW: toxic parents, manipulation, The Plan™, smut, mdni, I'll add as we go I'm kind of fly by the seat of my pants on this one.

tag list: @mfreedomstuff @harahettania @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 13: Yes Mother

A/N: This chapter contains physical and verbal abuse. Please proceed carefully.

“I am so sorry.” Thatch says for the third time since he got home. He’s set out the remotes on the coffee table. “I can’t believe I forgot to show you how to work everything.”

“It’s okay, I promise.” You reassure him. You aren’t sure what to do. When Thatch got home he found you napping on the couch. In your sleepy post-nap daze you’d admitted that you didn’t know how to turn on the TV and didn’t want to mess up a setting, and had just dozed off.

Taking a few minutes he walked you through the TV controls. It was easy enough, not too different from what you had at home, but you’d never been allowed to even touch those remotes. It was probably best to experience choosing the channel while you were on your own tomorrow, you didn’t want Thatch to worry more than he already was.

“If you want to rent a movie you can,” he says after he’s sure you’ve got the controls down pat, at least well enough to be okay on your own tomorrow. “Most of the books I have are about food and cooking, but I got one of those electronic deals somewhere. I can dig it up tonight.”

“Please just rest.” You offer a warm smile. “You were at work all day, and having the TV for tomorrow will be plenty. B-besides, I was… I was hoping I could maybe ask for something.” Your stomach knots, but you try to look and sound as comfortable as possible.

Thatch pauses, and his face lights up. “Certainly! Anything you want.”

“I… would like to… go on a date?” You can’t look at him as you ask, but you’re not sure you would’ve been able to do so regardless. It was almost painfully embarrassing to ask, even if the reason was duplicitous, it was something you did want to do with him.

“Tonight?”

“No!” You reach out for him, stopping short and covering your face. He looked so delighted you were worried you were going to break down and start crying. “No, I mean… I mean like, I’d like to see a movie, and maybe have dinner before, or… er… well, I’ve never gone to a play, or… anything.”

“Ah, I see.” Thatch ruffles your hair gently. “A full and proper date then. It would be my pleasure, doll.” He heads down the hall to his room. “Let me grab a shower and change, after dinner I’ll see what I can find for this weekend, okay?”

“Y-yes, thank you!” You raise your voice a little as he disappears down the hall. Sitting back down on the couch you look out the sliding door again.

You cannot cry. You can’t. If you cry then Thatch is going to ask what’s wrong, and if he asks you can’t lie to him. Doing this was bad enough, but if you told him then he could end up getting hurt. Your dad couldn’t harm him directly, but he could find people who would do it, you knew that for sure. Especially after today.

Thatch cooked so much the day before, dinner was an easy affair for him. It was interesting to watch him go through a few different ways of reheating leftovers in order to reheat each part correctly. He talked you through what he was doing, more you think, to fill the silence than anything else. The impromptu lesson was appreciated; you could cook, but not like Thatch, and you never really dealt with leftovers.

Everything was so measured to be sure you weren’t over eating that leftovers weren’t really something that happened.

After dinner, Thatch set up a laptop at the dining table, and looked up some stuff you could do for the weekend.

“There’s an Opera this weekend, and a performance of Shen Yun the weekend after that.” He says as you sit down next to him. “We’d have to leave Friday night for the Opera, it’s pretty much on the other side of the island. Grabbing a hotel room would be less hassle than waking up at 4am to get there on time.”

“The Shen Yun is closer?”

“Yeah, it’s barely twenty minutes from here. See? The Rumbar Theater House is just down the way a bit.” He explains, pointing it out on the little map. “It’s a long production though, we should probably consider a big meal before hand.”

You had told your father one or two weeks, and he hadn’t pushed for one or the other. The distance away from the apartment would be something you were sure he’d prefer, but you were nervous about traveling so far.

“We should do both.” Thatch says after a minute of silence.

“Huh? N-no, that’d be…” A waste, you think. Once your father does whatever he intends to do, you’re sure that everything will fall apart.

“Perfect,” Thatch interrupts your thoughts. “It’d be perfect. We should be trying to spend as much time together as we can. With my job that makes it a little difficult, but if we go on some big dates every weekend for the next couple weekends that would help make up for it.”

“But…” You take a moment, and Thatch sits still until you decide what you’re going to ask.

“Isn’t it expensive?”

He smiles and you feel your chest tighten again. “It’s not cheap,” he admits. “But I have more than enough saved up, and I think you’d enjoy both of them. This way too, you can decide which was more fun.”

“It’s -.”

“It’s not too much, I promise.” Thatch puts a hand over yours. “I’ll get things set for both of them, and if the travel and the Opera is overwhelming, I can cancel the other tickets. How’s that sound?”

You nod. It’s too much, it’s entirely too much, but only because you don’t deserve any of it. You can’t say that, and you’re pretty sure even if you did, he would argue. The only way that argument would resolve would be if you came clean about everything that happened today.

Instead, you sat with him while he booked the other parts of the dates. He gave you choices on a lot of things. Thatch chose the hotel, but let you choose one room or two. You chose one because it would be cheaper, and one with two queen sized beds because you weren’t quite ready to sleep in the same bed. It was the same cost as a single king, so you didn’t feel guilty.

You made plans to go out shopping tomorrow, or Wednesday. Thatch was going to try and get home a little early and if he couldn’t swing it tomorrow he’d manage it the next day. That way he could buy you something really nice to wear, since both events were the kinds of things you could get all dolled up for.

“I have nice clothes.” You insist. There’s no anger in your tone, but you don’t want him to spend more money than he already has.

“You do, and I won’t force you.” He gives you a smile that has the tips of his ears pink. “But the date will be fun for both of us, and… I’d love to give you a gift. You know, for your first real date.”

“Let… let me sleep on it.” You can see the edges of sadness creep into Thatch’s soft expression, but he nods.

“Of course.”

Shortly after that, you’d both gone to bed. As quietly as you could you cried yourself to sleep. The guilt made you feel sick, but if you got up to throw up you were worried you’d alert Thatch. You only had to hold out a few more days and it would be over. Whatever happened, he’d be safe.

Whatever happened to you wouldn’t matter. Not after all this. You didn’t deserve him. You didn’t deserve any of this. The whole match process had been fabricated, you weren’t even supposed to be here.

The only thing you did deserve was the guilt, and so you’d carry it. You knew your place, and your worth. You’d do as your parents asked to pay back all you owed them, and then accept whatever happened.

You slept so hard that night that you barely had time to scramble out of bed and tell Thatch good-bye in the morning. He asked if he could kiss your cheek and you said yes. He told you not to worry, but you weren’t sure what he was talking about, and then he said he’d be home for lunch, and not to worry on deciding about going shopping. He’d open up Wednesday for it, and that would give you time to think on it.

After that, he was out the door and you were in the empty apartment again.

Remembering that he said he’d be home for lunch you decide to eat a light breakfast and then take a shower so you can get cleaned up. Your face wasn’t too swollen, but it would be better to make yourself fully presentable if he was going to be coming back.

It was difficult. Even the “quick” breakfast took nearly an hour. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in your heart, and tears kept leaking down your face. Your tears last night were apparently only the beginning, and you wondered if your resolve was so flimsy that this was the result.

You waffled between resolving to tell Thatch, and resolving to not say a word at least a dozen times while you were in the shower. By the time you were done you’d only managed to resolve to stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

So automatic was your usual process that you had hardly registered that you were back int the main area until you heard the door beep. Your eyes slipped over the microwave clock and saw that it was barely past 9am, there was no way it was Thatch. Fear grips your heart for a split second until your mother walks into the apartment by herself.

Fear is replaced by confusion. You can’t even sort out how to greet her.

Your mother hasn’t noticed the look on your face. She’s been looking around since she stepped in, a wide glee-filled smile on her lips as she takes in the surroundings. Your brain catches up enough to understand she used the key card your father copied yesterday, but her presence is still entirely too surreal.

“Show me around, Doll.” She says, setting her things on the kitchen counter as she walks past you. “This is much nicer than I had expected, I wonder if that old bastard pays for it.” Anger flashes across your face, but it’s long gone before your mother looks at you.

“Show me around!” She snaps and you flinch.

“Yes mother.”

You motion with your arm down the hall that leads to your room, and the bathroom you have. She looks around your room, only opening your closets to marvel at how much space you have in an apartment.

“Goodness! It’s bigger than our house.” Giggling she closes your closet and turns toward you. “His room, Doll, c’mon.”

“I… I haven’t.” You stammer and she rolls her eyes.

“I’m not asking you to lay in his bed, I’m telling you to show me to his room.” She asserts, turning you around and pushing you out of the room. “C’mon now, I’m not going to spend all day in here.”

You stumble a couple steps before you get your pace ahead of hers, leading her down the other hall to Thatch’s side of the apartment. She’s not even pretending to care about the common areas, and you’re certain she didn’t even want to see your room in the first place.

When you get to Thatch’s bedroom door you’re surprised to find it open. The fact that he didn’t even close it while you were here and he wasn’t sat heavy on your shoulders. The pictures of his family lining the hallway walls felt like condemnations with every step.

Thatch’s room was well organized. The king-sized bed was dark wood and dark sheets, with white accents. There were more cooking books in here, a desktop and desk in one corner, and a sense of military service in the way the bed was made and how his closet was organized. As far as you knew neither him nor any of his brothers had been in the marines. Maybe Newgate had just raised them strict in that way.

It would make sense, trying to wrangle and keep so many boys in line like he had. You can clearly hear him saying that he runs a tight ship, or something similar.

“Ah there it is.” Your mother says, looking up at a space high up in the closet. “Doll, go bring a chair in here.”

“You can’t take anything.” You say the words without really thinking, your mother’s eyes going wide as she looks over at you in shock.

“I’ll take whatever I fucking please, you ungrateful bitch.” She replies icily. The weight of your words settle on you as she raises her voice, pointing down the hall as she practically screeches. “GO GET ME A CHAIR!”

The volume, more than the words, has you down the hall in a dash. You grab one of the dining room chairs and carry it into Thatch’s room. Your mother points and you set the chair into the closet.

“Steady it for me, useless thing.” She grumbles, stepping up on the cushion and looking around the top shelf of the closet while you hold the chair steady for her. “Humph, a number pad and no key. Well, that settles that then.”

Stepping back down off the chair you’re relieved to see she’s empty handed. She waves you off to return the chair, and she’s coming down the hall by the time you’ve put it back where it belongs.

“Have you convinced that oaf to take you on a date yet?”

“He’s not an oaf.” You say the words far more quietly than you wanted to, unable to even look at her.

“True, he’s a monster. That brute, you didn’t see his face when he threatened your father and I.”

“Thatch didn’t threat-!” The sharp sting on your cheek was unexpected, as was the force she used. The sharp slap cut lines in your cheek from her fingernails. You put your hand to your cheek, shocked she would leave such a harsh mark on you. Especially your face.

“Don’t you dare talk back to me like that!” Her hand sails through the air again and she grabs your wrist roughly, twisting it until the pain has you on your knees. “Apologize this instant!”

“He didn’t threaten you!” You cry, trying to get her to let go of your wrist. You cry out as she twists it further, her other hand grabbing your hair and forcing you to look at her. The look in her eyes is wild and manic, you can’t remember ever seeing her so angry before.

You can’t remember defying her either, but Thatch hadn’t threatened your parents.

“APOLOGIZE!” She demands and you shake your head. If she twists your wrist much more she might actually break it. “He’s a fucking monster! I bet I could tell everyone he’s beat you, and they’d believe it. Wouldn’t even listen to a pitiful thing like you,” she snarls, a twisted knowing grin marring her features. “So desperate to be accepted by a faked match you let him abuse you. I’ll get your father up here and-.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” You wail, sobbing as she lets you go, leaving you to crumple onto the floor, throbbing hand to your bloody cheek. “I’m - hic - sorry, mother. I’m sorry, you-you’re r-right.”

“He’s a monster.” She says and you nod. “Say it, Doll.”

“He is,” you reply, hoping it’s enough to satisfy her. You don’t think you could actually call him a monster and she might really break something if you defy her again.

“Humph. Did you convince him to take you on a date yet?”

You nod.

Your mother hisses, taking a step toward you and causing you to back away so reflexively you’re under the dining table before you can stop yourself. There’s a tense moment of silence and she clicks her tongue.

“Text us the details before you go to bed tonight.” She commands, stepping away from you and heading toward the door. “Fix your stupid face before he gets home.”

“Yes mother,” you barely say the words aloud as she gathers her things off the counter and leaves.

You need to get up and get ice for your wrist. You need to get up and clean the scratches on your face and try to cover them up with makeup. You need to get up. You need to.

You can’t do anything but cry heavy gasping sobs from under the dining table. Almost no sound escapes you, the occasional hiccuped gasp of air dotting the relative quiet. A few painful sobs manage to claw their way into existence and you can’t keep quiet, letting the wretched wail into the air before forcing yourself to quiet again.

When you hear the beep of the door you realize you must’ve been sobbing under the dining table for over an hour. The door opens and you just stay where you are, resigned in having been caught. There was nothing you’d be able to tell him except the truth.

Thatch comes over, and sits down as far away as he can, and still be in your line of sight. You can smell the mix of flour and fruits on him, the soothing smell of honey and sugar from the confections made at the bakery. You don’t know if it’s the warmth of the shop that you can feel rolling off him, or if it’s just the warmth that always seems to be around him.

Most of you is hidden from him, curled up against the central table leg. Looking over at him you can see splatters of different sauces on his uniform, puffs of flour against his yellow scarf that makes it look patchy in places. The look on his face is sorrowful, and painfully kind.

He has no idea what’s happened. He might have an inkling, some idea gnawing at the back of his mind. His sorrow might be in knowing you’re going to hurt him, or maybe it’s just in knowing you’ve been hurt. He wants to be closer, you can tell, but he’s staying back until you give him permission.

How could he be so kind?

So gentle?

So patient?

He should be furious! He should be loud, and demanding, and unrelenting! This is his home! He shouldn’t be coming home to something so unknown. He shouldn’t find you like this. He should be able to have lunch with you, because that was the plan. That was how it was supposed to go. How it should be going.

His voice was quiet when he spoke. Like he didn’t want to spook you. The tone was soft and gentle, full of a pain you didn’t understand. How could two words sound so sad and so loving at the same time?

Especially when they were nothing but cold disdain on the tongues of your parents.

“Hey Doll.”

[blairwaldcrf]

Sneak Peak Sunday

because i can't seem to keep to six or seven sentences today

more from the firstprince! kanthony bridgerton au (with a Roaring 20s Hollywood spin)

So maybe Alex takes the maddeningly long line of suitors as nothing more than an obstacle he shouldn't have to endure, but it's not his fault that he knows that where he belongs is in the room. He's rocking on his heels when he catches sight of blonde hair and that's all it takes for him to eschew decorum and ignore indignant shouts all to barrel ahead. 

Barely sparing him more emotion than to fill a cold stare, Henry flatly states. “You’re not welcome here.”

Ignoring the way Alex very much wants to see if hitting his jaw will make the man who yelled at him in the garden reappear, he controls himself with nothing more than a smile. It's a miraculous feat, really. Someone should dedicate poetry to his restraint. “Do you really think you’re the first white man to tell me I’m not welcome somewhere?”

“Hopefully not the first to tell you that it’s due to your accursed personality and not your looks,” Henry strikes back with such precision that Alex is almost impressed. “But I meant that you are not welcome at the front of the line when there are others waiting prior.”

“I'll wait if you tell me more about my looks.” Maybe he’s smirking a bit to drive home the point-- which there isn’t really a point other than he had noticed how irritated Henry had gotten the last time he’d gone down this route of antagonism last night. You think my smile is pleasing?

Angered enough Henry’s cheeks actually turn a bit pink at the comment, Alex feels momentarily victorious, even if it precludes another insult. Narrowing the ridiculous blue eyes of his, he drops his voice low enough to reply as derisively as possible and not show the entire hall what an ass he is. “I think I said enough about them the other night.”

“Henry, is that who I think it is?” Beatrice Fox’s voice carries behind him. The brother closes his eyes tight in what seems to be a curse at whichever God he believes in before even attempting a reply, exhaling rather dramatically before he calls back, “Cutting the line, yes.” As if for good measure, he opens his eyes to glare at Alex and spitefully add, “Rudely.” as if that wasn’t apparent enough by his tone.

Alex is too busy grinning to mind.

“Let him in, H.”

Henry doesn’t move. “Bea--,”

“Oh, don’t become Pip now that we’re in the States, please,” she says, and suddenly Henry is capable of showing genuine emotion, because the lack of pretense in his outraged gasp is almost as hilarious as the fact he immediately steps aside. 

Beatrice looks as though she’s trying to hide a smirk for her brother’s pride once Alex steps into the same room, but he’s grown up with June too closely not to know the cat-ate-the-canary grin of an older sister having gotten her way. “Hello Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

He catches the unamused look Henry gives and tries not to be too apparent with his vindication, but he's performed better at too many other endeavors to say he's successful. “Good morning, Ms. Fox.”

The playfulness behind her smile doesn’t leave, but he's aware that she's watching her brother much more than him. He might be offended if it wasn't so amusing to watch someone else put him in his place. 

tagging @ssmtskw @terrainofheartfelt @vanderwoodlings @strideofpride @laufire @hydesjackiespuddinpop @kiwiana-writes

[windsweptinred]

Hey, had this image of Morpheus as a massive Raven hovering in the air behind Daniel in my head and thought you would maybe like it as well. Maybe I'll draw it one day but until then I've written it. Hope you enjoy this :)

The dark entity rises in front of Dream while he watches with neither anger nor fear only a hint of curiosity on his fine boyish features.

"Now Dreamlord what shall I do to you, after I’ve slayed your oh so loyal pet?" The entity gestures dismissively to the bloody body of the Corinthian lying on the ground. "You are just a child after all nothing like your predecessor. Not even worse a challenge, letting others fight your fights."

Dream’s lips twitch. "I apologize for the transgressions of my nightmare, he is sometimes a bit overeager." A short glance to the side confirms that said nightmare is already getting up again while cursing quite colorfully under his breath. "But if you rather want to measure yourself with my predecessor than me I can certainly ask him if he would be willing to do so. But I should warn you he won't be in the best mood. As far as I know, he had a date planned for this evening."

"What?" The entity frowns in confusion. Dream however closes his eyes and hums under his breath. The Corinthian has by now staggered to his lord's side complaining about his ruined suit. After a moment the new Dreamlord opens his eyes again and smiles a little bit brighter now. "He will be here shortly." The smile gets a little mean tilt. "I hope you don't mind his form though, he was indeed not pleased to be interrupted."

Before the entity can answer a strong wind sweeps over the area. Sand and little stones swirl around and lift into the air. The wind picks up more and more before a huge black shape dives out of the sky.

With one powerful beat of its massive wings, it stops short of touching the ground. Black as night it hovers behind the young man, making his white curls and clothes dance in the gust of its beating wings.

Dream smiles up at the monstrous raven, the stars in his eyes reflecting back at him from the dark ones of the beast.

"I'm sorry for the interruption of your evening but this guest here thought you would be a worthier challenge than me," the young man says with a beatific smile.

A deep rumbling scratching sound, a grotesque rendition of a chuckle, comes from the raven. "Then he must not know who he faces."

"It appears to be so. But perhaps he would like to compare, if you would like to join me?"

Again the rumbling scratching chuckle from the raven, "With pleasure. Let us show him the old and new terror of Nightmare. He may decide afterward which was more to his liking."

The Corinthian scoffed, "Sure you haven't gone soft in your retirement Morpheus?"

The raven turns his massive head towards the nightmare. "You are welcome to judge as well, little nightmare. Though I do not think this will take long." With that the raven turns to the entity in front of them. It seems to flinch when the dark eyes fix it in place. "Not long indeed. Shall we, my dear successor?"

"After you, Morpheus," the young man in white says, smile still on his soft lips, though as he turns to the entity, sharp teeth seem to glint behind them.

Just Morpheus and Daniel tag teaming and completely obliterating whoever thought to stand in their way. Morpheus would be so offended on Daniel's behalf here. How dare anyone think his successor would not be better than him. 

Btw no idea what the situation with Morpheus here is, he is retired but can still visit the dreaming and be either nightmare or dream, really no idea, only had the image and no context XD

Anon this is glorious! I cannot express what an honour and delight it was to find this waiting in my ask box!

I love how you captured Daniel, the 'boyish' sweetness with something decidedly more sinister lurking beneath the surface. He's so assured in this and it's sublime. The way his challenger uses Morpheus as a goad, but Daniel just shrugs it off in a, 'Well, it's your funeral' kind of way. 😅

I absolutely adored the relationship between Morpheus and Daniel. I think so often, we (myself included) picture their relationship as an imbalanced mentor/ student or retired!human/Endless one. But here, they have such a fist bump, we got this moment. They've got a perfect equilibrium in power and relationship and I love it! And Morpheus being offended on Danny's behalf. My heart! 💖💖💖

And the Corinthian rushing in there like a protective attack dog. Even though he knows Dream can more then handle the situation. Because ofcourse he would. And I think I'm now going to have to offically headcanon Cori getting a cheeky one liner in about retirement/here's the old guard/OK boomer whenever he meets Morpheus. 🤣

Hmmm, I've always liked to picture the relationship between Daniel and retired! Morpheus being more fluid. Almost a ying yang in that they have a little of each other in them. There's no saying Morpheus can't still tap into a little Endless in the Dreaming, while Daniel can tap into a little humanity in the Waking. Especially in regards to your fic, I love to think the links not entirely severed.

Once again thank you so much for this! I can't express how happy I was to read it. If you ever do illustrate it, please let me know!

[justfangstvdto]

Open Coffin 2 | Chapter 09 “Between Familiarity and Change"

Chapter warnings: typical tvd/to violence (this time only emotional lol), angst, a lot of dialogue, hurt puppy eyes from Kol.. ouch

Word count: 4640

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is my lifeblood and keeps the writing coming (eventually…lol)

Open Coffin 2 Masterlist

The dreamlike state you awoke in was far from the pleasantries one hopes for during sleep. A second ago you felt the asphalt on your skin, dropping like a stone, now you stood in a room with no view beyond its rugged, wooden walls.  Animal heads were mounted on four pillars in the middle of the room encasing a circle. The room had a hazy view around the edges as if the world beyond its walls was nonexistent. 

You knew exactly what this place was, yet you have never seen it executed. A Chambre de Chaussee. A magically constructed place to trap the minds with no time and space beyond its walls. And unfortunately, you weren't alone in this dreamscape. 

"Unsettling is it not? To be swept away into this…monstrosity." Klaus spoke from the other side of the room, stepping out under the Wolf figure hung above his head. When he turned to take in your still blood-soaked clothing he had an amused grin on his face. 

"Well, don't you look like the poster child of murder and mayhem?" He snickered.

With a smile saturated in sarcasm, you stepped closer, and with each step, the hatred grew. He left you there in the cemetery after he swore to do the complete opposite. You reached him and punched him square in his self-righteous face without hesitation, knowing you'd feel the same pain inflicted due to still being linked to him.

"I'll give you that one." He said, cleaning the blood trickling from his nose with the back of his hand. You did the same as the linking was still intact. 

"You left me there." Your voice was low, edging into a growl. "At the cemetery. You just disappeared."

He roamed your features for a moment, seemingly taken aback for a second, before his face hardened "No hard feelings, sweetheart. Business is business." 

"Business, huh? You said you get me out of there and I was stupid enough to believe you."

"Need I remind you, it was you who put my brother in danger!" He was seething, the usual Klaus showing his face again. 

"And it was me getting him out of it, despite knowing better!! How many times do I have to help, for you to let me off the hook?" 

"Perhaps there isn't a way for you to get off the hook!"

"I should just-"

"What hurts me hurts you, love. Have at it." He smirked, ready for a fight if you wished for it.

"Children, please." Elijah cut in, stepping out from behind his pillar. His timing was impeccable as always, which was a step up from the dishevelled state he was in. No suit, no clean-cut beard. They - his own family no less- sure did a number on him.

"You of all people should know what it's like in there with these two lunatics," you said to him, mirroring the dimmed look he sported. In a way, this version of Elijah felt more real than the suit. Maybe it's like a snake shedding its skin.

"Lunatic, my my" Finn appeared strutting through the wooden door at the helm of the room "You wound me." 

You involuntarily jumped upon hearing his voice, your body's natural response winning over your resolve, much to your dismay. 

Of course, Finn saw it too.

"No need to be afraid." He said etching away at your confidence with the way he enjoyed evoking fear. If asked he would still pretend that was the case. 

"The last time I saw you, you cut me open with a butcher knife." And bled you out like a slaughtered animal, only to do it again the next day. Not to mention Esther's mental torture.

"If you would've simply cooperated, I would've not resorted to measures quite like it." He shrugged. 

"It was all for nothing anyway. You didn't find out what these two are hiding." You looked at Klaus and Elijah, making sure not to linger each too long to not raise suspicion. You hoped they'd realize what he was trying to do. At least by speaking it out loud now you have beaten Finn to the punch. 

"However big or small. " You made eye contact with Klaus this time, pronouncing the word small with extra meanings, and you saw he understood "This secret is no concern of yours. And I intend to keep it that way."

Finn contemplated your answer and was ready to speak when Elijah stepped further into the circle. 

"Brother." He forced a welcoming smile "Why have you brought us here?" 

"Brother." Finn let out a huff "You cannot even hide your disdain addressing me as such!" His outburst would have been somewhat comical, if not for the fact he collected himself as quickly as he lost his temper.

The brothers resorted to a back-and-forth of interrogation and slide comments, all incredibly uninteresting to you. You've heard it all before. Instead of watching them, you took the time to look at the animal heads more closely. Representational magic was a fickle thing. One misrepresentation and the entire room ceases to exist. Finn had to have made a mistake somewhere, you were sure of it.

He chose a wolf and stag for Klaus and Elijah respectively, but your totem coaxed a chuckle out of you. The animal's proportions were off by a lot, but it made it all the more imposing. The black shell had a sheen to it as it hung there flat above you almost life-like. Only its sting was curved towards you, threatening its poisonous power to whoever was the beholder. 

"The Fox and the Scorpion? Very funny." You chuckled, pointing at the scorpion and the fox totem on the other pillar next to it. Why did he have a fox totem if Kol was not even remotely close to being here?

Nevertheless, it was a fitting display even if it was a bit on the nose. You had not pegged Finn for a moral story kind of person. "You know I always thought the frog and the scorpion made more sense. The fox wouldn't be dumb enough to trust the scorpion."

Finn laughed at that, apparently having some sort of inside joke with himself. "Interesting analysis. Does that mean everyone is a fool if they trust you? Even with their life?"

"I think you and I both know the answer to that."

"Indeed. Your nature is irreversible, just like the Scorpion. And your sting drowned the fox simply by existing. Or perhaps that's not true? Perhaps the fox has risen from the ashes, taking on another form."

Finn's gaze shifted to his left, towards the fox pillar.

"Why don't you tell her, Kaleb." His insinuation was clear and it was absurd. Even as Kaleb stepped out of the shadows and looked back at the fox totem above him, you denied it. 

"You're full of shit. First, you torture me and now this? You really want to make an enemy out of me, don't you?" 

"I wouldn't dare." Finn smirked, gave a pause, then turned to Kaleb "Come on now, brother. Tell the truth for once." 

Kaleb wouldn't meet your eye or anyone else's as he stood there. When he finally did look at you, you saw him. Saw him and it was as if the world was imploding in on itself. 

"Darling, I-" He stepped closer, frantically trying to soften the blow. Which, of course, came too late to make any impact. 

You backed away and raised your trembling hand, keeping him away from you. "No."

He hesitated but stepped back, his usually tall frame sunken with defeat. Yet he was still measuring your reaction with interest, hoping he might find the right words to say. To somehow explain weeks of hiding who he truly was. But Finn interrupted before he could think of the next step.

"Well, that settles it for your portion of today's affairs." He said. "We have family business to discuss. No hard feelings" He added, snapping his fingers. All faded to black once more before you could say a thing.

------------

The church doors opened with a loaded crack as the wood hammered into the stone wall behind it. Kaleb / Kol was still unconscious as you approached the altar,  still stuck in Finn's concoction. 

All of this had to be a cruel joke, something to coax an unkind response out of you. To what end you were not sure, but staring into the possibility that he had lied for weeks was worse than anything Finn could have orchestrated. Surely it was only a ploy for manipulation. It had to be.

You sat there on the church steps for a few minutes contemplating what you could possibly say to him. This wasn't supposed to be the reunion you both deserved. It was supposed to be as grounding as the last piece placed in the puzzle - a victory after failing for so long. But perhaps that feeling of victory was never achievable, to begin with. Perhaps it was meant to be a fairy tale among the harsh reality of existence. 

Kaleb Kol stirred awake suddenly, sitting up with a start regaining focus. He found your eyes immediately and focused on you without a second to spare. A sheepish smile planted on his face, hopeful and freer now the cat was out of the bag. But there was fear in it too, fear of rejection, even remnants of the fear of being uncovered.

Seeing him sitting there you had no idea how the hell you didn't see Kol behind those eyes. The way they would glint with purpose once he spurred into action. The knowledge behind them went beyond the rage and scheming other people knew him for. It was beyond obvious now. The magnetic pull tugging you towards him was proof enough too.

"So it's true. It really is you. I'm such an idiot." You stated, trying to read the expression on his face as it sobered from hopeful into fear. 

What did he expect? For you to run into his arms after he lied for weeks? That's all you wanted to do for years, and now it was finally here under the worst circumstances.

He swallowed, straightened up and stood, pacing the room in short strides. He was rattled to his core. 

"I tried to tell you. And every time I did, it felt wrong." He said, trying to disguise the shaking in his voice "I thought it would be easier to start over. We could've gotten away, without my reputation attached, without my family sabotaging us." 

"It's not that easy." You shook your head. 

"Isn't it?" His focus flickered to your face briefly, before pacing once again "I know you're scared but-."

"I'm not scared I-" 

"Of course you are!" He said, cringing at the way he raised his voice. He settled, and reached for your hand carefully "I was scared too, but I'm finished being scared. We could go right now. Leave all of this behind. Just you and me."

Suddenly, as if someone had placed a mirror between you, you saw yourself as he had at this moment. Covered in blood, dirt and dust-ridden skin. A far cry from your past self. How could he still want to keep going? 

"It's not that easy. I'm not the same person. Not even close." 

Slowly, without much pressure, Kol stepped closer and drew your hand up to his chest and over his heart. Beneath the skin, you could feel the beating of his heart, fast and fluttering like a drum.

"Nothing has changed for me. This heart might not be mine but it beats for you still. No matter what. Please tell me I haven't ruined us." His gaze was pleading and sincere as he held I to your hand for dear life.

It would be so easy to just give in. This was Kol, for god sakes! The one person you went to hell and back for was standing right in front of you. And yet he felt more like a ghost than a person. 

And that was precisely the problem. He was the ghost you were supposed to be. This was always the plan. Get him back even if it takes you to your grave. But you weren't ready to tell him that. You were equally unready to see him standing before you, excusing all he had witnessed from the other side. He would forgive the most terrible sins if they were committed by your hand. 

You shook your head, removing your hand from his grasp. Panic washed over his face and the hand still resting on yours clutched your skin tightly "I can't do this right now."

"Let's focus on dealing with Esther and Finn first. Then we can figure everything else out."

He looked defeated just then but nodded anyway. He knew the time was not right, even if his heart told him otherwise.

"I'm sorry. I know it's not what you wanted." You added, trying to console him.

"What I want is for you not to look at me the way you are now. Like you don't even see me."

Maybe because I don't even know who you are right now. That is what you should've said, instead, you muttered something about the work you both had to do. 

----------

The walk to the compound was charged with silence and unsaid words. By now he usually would've made you laugh at least a dozen times, perhaps even dragged you into a jazz bar to dance. Now there was silence as you walked next to each other, hands itching to touch as they dragged on with movement. 

It was unbearable. 

The compound was a sight for sore eyes for once, now the objects of ease and not discomfort as it so often had been. The inside was still the same, except for the small table next to the staircase where Klaus was sitting and nursing a drink.

"You're here." He said without looking in your direction. He only looked up when you grabbed the second glass from the table next to him and filled it to the brim with bourbon. 

"However small." You repeated the same phrase from earlier.  "Your secret is safe. We're here to help you keep it that way."

"Despite us knowing better," Kol muttered from behind, leaning against the staircase railing.  

Another drink made its way down your throat, all the while ignoring the quizzical look from Klaus which jumped between you and his brother. 

"Let's get to work." You declared once the moment became unbearable. "How far away is the location?" 

"Far enough," Klaus replied.

"Too far to drive in a day?" You asked, promptly receiving a nod. "Alright then. Warn anyone who's there right now. I'm sure Finn will figure it out in a few days. "

You stood up, slamming the glass down on the smooth table surface. 

Klaus stood up too. "And where are you going?" he asked, a tinge of sourness in his voice. 

"I need a goddamn shower. If you want to leave early, then go. I can catch up." 

"Finn will recuperate after today's events. He will not retaliate. For now. We leave at first light."

"Sounds good." You agreed, ascending the stairs to finally wash all the blood, dirt and grime off. You felt Kol's eyes on you as you walked away, a longing stare that buried itself into your back with vigour.

Klaus noticed this and moved closer to him. "I advised you to tell her weeks ago, have I not? Now see what your lie has brought."

"Because you're the poster child of honesty." Kol snapped back, before letting out a frustrated sigh, "I tried not to be selfish and still I mess it up." Kol uttered, working his jaw loose with the self-hatred that seemingly had embedded itself into his gums. 

"You died for her. You've become the least selfish of us all." Klaus laid a hand on his shoulder, forgetting the fight they had when they last spoke at the cabin. He gave Kol a nod, trying to convey that things will look up again soon. He then fishes out a pair of keys from his pocket and holds them out in front of him. "Your car is in the garage." 

Kol took the keys and watched as Klaus walked away. He stared after him, wondering what the hell happened to the Klaus he knew. Perhaps he had changed finally, or perhaps his adventure in the chambré today had changed him too. 

Kol shakes his head, ascending the stairs too wishing the shower he was about to take could wash this day down the drain. 

----

The car ride was tense. And silent. Where there used to be music playing, the sound of wind hollering through the open window, now there was only silence. The disconnect between the pair of you now and years ago was evident. Thankfully, Klaus drove in his own car or this ride would've been even more tense. 

Arriving at Klaus' safe house Was nothing short of awkward. Hayley, Elijah - in the flesh this time- and even Mae greeted you upon arrival. Kol almost dropped dead when he saw Klaus and Hayley's daughter Hope. But he looked grateful despite his shock. It meant that Klaus trusts him enough with a secret like this. 

When little Hope saw you, she reached for your hand as if she knew that you touched her in Klaus' memories. Maybe she has more power than you thought. 

The hours went by preparing the house for an eventful attack. You and Kol both conjured up a few protection spells for the house. First was an early warning system that monitors anyone breaching a larger perimeter. Then followed a refresh on the cloaking spell for Hope, a few more spells to secure the house as best as you could, without even knowing if Finn won't find a way around it. 

By the time the house was somewhat secured, the sun was already starting to set. Little Hope was sleeping and guarded by her parents as well as Mae. Elijah was in the study, no doubt trying to distract his mind with a book. Kol was somewhere resting, no doubt as much in his head as you are in yours. At least the porch you decided to make your home for a while offered a nice view of the backyard that stretched further than the eyes could see. Back in the day, this place was sure a sight to see, with its acres and long stretching paddocks and fields. If not for the impending doom of an attack and the usual problem of not having a moment's peace, this would be a nice place to stay for a while. But alas, no rest for the wicked. And certainly not for the undead. 

The sun had fully set when Kol appeared in the doorway next to you. He was leaning in the doorway, his shirt open to endure the heat, his hair tousled from tossing and turning in bed. 

"Can't sleep?" He asked, looking out into the darkness. 

"Don't even remember the last time I slept." You replied. 

He nods, awkwardly shifting where he stood as he tried to find how to phrase what he wanted to say. 

"If you want we could steal one of the bedrooms and sleep like we used to. God knows we need it." He let out a nervous chuckle as if to soften the blow if you would find his offer to forward. 

"You know I want to just go back to how things were but, I just-" You sighed, breathing out a huff of frustration "What the hell are we doing, huh?"

"Here?"

"Anywhere. I used to know how to make plans and follow through. But every plan I had before coming here failed. Trying to play Esther, Mikael and Klaus, all fell through. I was told there was a war so I came here. I didn't see anything, did you? Which means that we are the ones that cause it. And we don't even know why."

He let out a drawn-out breath of understanding as he sat next to you. So that's what was bothering you, finally, he knew. His shoulders relaxed with that knowledge and hope crept in once more. 

"You don't cause havoc like they do." He said as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. 

"See that's where you're wrong. You don't know this version of me." You shook your head. It was naive to think you would stay the same after the last few years, but he had no clue who you were now. How rotten. 

"Do you think I ever left your side? Even in death, I spend every minute next to you. I would choose every version of you no matter what." 

"I don't know how you could love me the way I am now."

"I don't have a choice, darling. I adore you, and that will never cease to be the case. Even if you decide to send me away."

"I don't want that. I don't want to send you away." You looked at him then, your voice quieter than he was used to and his eyebrows drew together in concern. He timidly reached for your hand, and you let him intertwine your fingers with his own.  

"Can you tell me what's been going on in that head of yours?" He asked gently, without expectation of a reply. He simply needed you to know that he was there, no matter what the future would hold.  

The problem was, how do you tell someone you love that you feel inadequate to the person you used to be? Like a lesser, dented and rotten version of who they once loved. Do you just blurt it out simply? Explain it with as much detail as humanly possible? 

So you told him regardless. And you told him even more than that and he listened to it all. He always was an exceptional listener, even now as you recounted the last few weeks. 

"And the worst part is I'm scared of Finn. My own father locked me in a basement for weeks on time but now Finn is the one that makes my skin crawl. How ironic is that?" You scoffed, looking at Kol. He shared your slight smile. 

He leaned closer, hoping his siblings wouldn't hear him talk "Don't tell anyone, but I have always thought he was off his rocker. Even when I was young, he used to have this hatred about the world. I was terrified of him, and still am." 

"Really? You never told me that."

He looked at you with a sad expression tinted with nostalgia and even regret. There certainly were a lot of things still unsaid. You were never granted more than a few months together before you got separated either by dagger or death.

"There are a lot of things still unsaid I imagine." Kol said, sharing your train of thought, "Even though we've loved each other for a century, we're still getting to know each other. Our time was stolen over and over again. But I meant what I said in that church. No matter how bad you believe to be, I will love you regardless. Always"

He covers your hand with his own, gently just letting you know he meant what he said. 

"I know. That's why it makes staying away so hard." You sighed, wishing there was some easy answer to all of this "But I have to figure this out first. Not just this whole mess here, but everything else too. I just… I just need a little time."

Kol nods, visibly uneasy with the thought of staying away, especially if he wants to do the exact opposite. But true to the way he always was with you, he gave you your wish "Whatever time you need, it's yours, darling." 

When he pulled away from your hand you pulled him back, intertwining your fingers with his, as the sun sets behind you. 

"That doesn't mean I want you to go, you know that, right?" You said, looking at him.

"You don't?"

You shook your head, letting it rest on his shoulder as he pulled his arm around you. He always was honest and accommodating when it came to you even when you asked him to let you figure things out.

For the first time since you knew him, you had no idea what the future would bring. If it would work out at all if he was more human than anything else. Humans die someday, even witches and warlocks. If he remained the way he was now, what future was there for you? Maybe close to a century more until he was old and succumbed to time? And what if you turned him? He'd go back to hating how addicted to blood he had always been. What future is there now? 

"You're in your head again aren't you, darling?" He said in a quiet voice, wishing he could pluck those bad thoughts out of your head "Come on, let's get some sleep and we'll figure it out in due time."

Soon you found yourself in the same room as if no time had passed. He eyed you from the bed he was lying in, wondering what you would do if he'd allow himself to sleep. 

"If I sleep now, you won't disappear on me, right?" Kol asked, nervously picking at the sheet that was covering him "You won't be gone in the morning?" 

"I won't."  You shook your head, lying down next to him facing him. You knew he was scared you'd just run off, and truth be told you thought about it. But you won't do it. Running would not help this time. At least not right this moment. 

"Promise?" He inquired again, his eyes scared as they roamed your face.

"I promise." You leaned towards his cheek despite your better judgement, kissing his cheek softly while whispering a quick sleeping spell. He smiled at your contact before the spell took hold and he fell into a deep sleep. His breathing evened out immediately and his chest rose and fell without a care in the world. He deserved some rest after the last few days and you're glad you could at least do that for him. 

You kept an eye on him for a little bit, stroking away the hair that had fallen into his face. 

"What am I gonna do with you?" You sighed as you rested your head on his shoulder. He deserved rest, but eventually, you decided you deserved it too, falling asleep on his shoulder like the old times. 

At least for tonight, nothing was waiting for you in the shadows. 

Finally some peace.

A/N: Here I am again, my friends. Been a long time as always, but you know what to expect by now probably. 

Hope you've been well. 

Also who would've thought that I would end a chapter on a good-ish note for once? 

Kind of a side note, but can you believe all the Salvatore siblings have Scorpio as their sign? I have a birthday for the sister and just realized it's in the Scorpio zodiac area lol

Also, I hope this chapter wasn't too chopped up, because I did write it very sparingly while travelling ice again and there are hours or days I between it. Definitely not how I would like it but it is what it is. Hope you all are doing as well as you can. Thanks for sticking with me.  

(still using the probably very outdated list, so lmk if you want to be removed from it)

@shadyladyperfection @akshi8278 @kind-wolfkind-wolf @christinasyellowflowers​ @thegoddessofvampire @newurleans @originalbish98 @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @cherryblossomllama @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14 @5-seconds-of-animals @the-geeky-engineer @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474 @thealyana @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @lunna-star-8​ @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @lilulo-12 @selmasemlan @thelostallycat @characterobsessed​ @cococola-cocaine @codenamewitcher @-thatgirloverthere- @alwxadria345 @mizzezm @willieshakesqueer​ @spunky-89 @putyourherohaironstefan @thegingerthatwaited @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @hinata7346 @controloffandoms @redshima

[beatrice1979a]

second take...

WIP Ask Game

In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I had a long post written at 4 am this morning and I deleted by mistake trying to tag someone else. Ok whatever. Let me see if i remember what I wrote

@aidanchaser thank you for the tag. I'm enjoying reading fics mostly. Shadyclaw fics only. Blatant lie.

But anyway... wips... I only have 3 fics so i'll give you some info so no need to send me questions.

Unnamed shadyclaw fic. I may finish it eventually it's only a 3 chapter fic or maybe oneshot. The spoiler is here

My Darling Curse (the only WIP that survived destruction. I wrote it 15 years ago an its missing only 4 chapters and I HATE leaving things undone). Its an old fandom (Ugly Betty) gay fic back before same sex marriage was ruled in NY (mind you, Canada was ok back then but the characters are based in the US). so yeah... struggles were real

Young Getty Love. (Ugly Betty) I'll add this for measure. Because I hate incomplete stuff. and I just read the comments from 15 years ago. And its true. comments make you feel better even if they were posted gazillion years ago. Well... if i finally learn to write teen characters (which i DON'T) I might write a thing or two for MLB. But probably not...

Because right now I am sketching... and long post about drawing and blablabla. and why i dont write etc etc... and that i make tons of grammar errors and never proof my writing and bla bla... I really enjoy reading this fandom better. I am learning compostion, exposure and how to handle dialogue. MLB writers are quite diverse and talented. I love it!

Ok skipping to the part where I tag people. Let me try to remember...

@kuromori4 show me what you are writing, please

@fandomofone seriously. I need to know if you are writing more shadyclaw because I loved your last post.

@coffeebanana I don't think you've done this game. so there you are tagged...I also find it lovely that @fandomofone met me after 15 years in the comment section of one of your fics. One that is NOT a shadyclaw fic. Which I won't admit I read secretly. because EVERYONE knows i only read shadyclaw fics

... ok back on my train of thoughts...

@asukiess I mentioned you. But i think you have posted about it before? not sure.

post ended.

[royaltyoon]

hiiiii! Joongoo and Jonggun as sugar daddies, but reader is strong, proud and independent woman! hcs please? (´∀｀)♡

Thank you for the request (つ≧▽≦)つ I hope this is what you had in mind.

HEAD CANONS

Sugar daddy headcanon

[A/N]

I've been calling them gun and goo for like a year now. I swear, jonggun and joongoo sound like completely different people to me.

Gun:

Showering you with gifts and presents was his love language.

Love and affection? Please. Even gun knew he wasn't capable of displaying more than three emotions.

To him, you were his priority. But other than showing how much you mean to him by buying you expensive stuff he knew no other way to convey his feelings.

And he sure as hell wasn't liking the fact that now, you wouldn't even let him buy you anything.

It led to a number of childish arguments, which gun wasn't proud of.

"I don't need you money, gun."

"I can't hear you, princess."

"I. Don't. Need. You. To. Spend. Your. Money. On. Me."

"still can't hear you."

"I don't nee- "blah blah blah, I still don't hear you."

Gun used 'blah blah blah'. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed shaking his head in disappointment for his own self.

If you ever mention an object randomly during a conversation, it'll be home delivered to you the next day.

He didn't care how expensive it was, he had enough zeros in his bank account that could buy his next three generations an easy and luxurious life.

You often liked to leisurely roam malls during your free time, you didn't need to buy anything but you just liked looking at what was new and trendy in the fashion world.

God forbid if gun ever joined you, you'd come home with a quarter of the mall in your bags.

You had to get stern with him, because his stubborn ass would just never listen.

But the next time he joined you, he bought himself a ton of stuff just so he can show that the stuff he bought you costed lower than what he brought himself.

Even spelling it out to him didn't seem to penetrate his thick skull, so you took extreme measures.

"princess, are you really not gonna talk to me till I don't return the stuff back?"

"....."

"I'm not gonna fall for the silent treatment."

"......"

"fine, I'll return it tomorrow. Just so you know, its not very classy for someone to return stuff they brought. I'm ready to taint my reputation for you. You've gotta love me after this."

"And I do."

All in all, he loved how independent you were, if something ever happened to him, he knew you would be able to handle yourself.

You weren't naive so he didn't have to worry too much about you.

BONUS:

Gun called out your name, gaining your attention. He slowly opened a small velvet box, revealing a beautiful ring with a diamond settled atop it. You already knew it would cost more than the number you had in mind.

Your eyes rolled and a sigh escaped your lips. "I already told you I don't need you to buy me anymore jewelry. I have enough. Return that back."

He just blinked at you blankly for two seconds, "Princess. I'm proposing."

Goo:

Much like gun, goo had the habbit of purchasing stuff without a glance at the price tag.

Goo loved money, if there's anything he took seriously, it was money.

But he didn't hesitate for a second before spending it.

"I worked for it, so I get to spend it however I want." He always said that.

Limits? Pfft, this man had no limits.

He would buy you stuff before the words would even leave your mouth.

"Goo, I want-

"A dress? Okaaay, I just brought a dress I think would look good on you. It delivers at home tomorrow, so make sure to recieve it."

"what the. No i-

"you need jewelry? Hold on. This might take a while, oh there you go it's done. It'll be deliver- wait! What does this mean by no home delivery?? They expect us to walk in there and personally buy it? Why even bother having an online website? What kind of customer service is this?!"

"Goo."

"yes, sweetheart."

"..... I just wanted you to go buy some bread."

If you ever told him that he didn't have to buy you anything and that you could afford it in your own. He would be over the top dramatic about it.

Also, he would probably get anxious about why you ask him not to buy you stuff, so you will have to reassure him every once in a while.

"listen to me you, rich fool."

"yes, sweetheart." He spoke through his smushed cheeks between your two palms. "I don't need you to buy me a penthouse."

"but why? You should have a place to live."

"I'm not homeless, I literally live with you here. So I don't need you to buy me anything."

"You don't like me anymore, sweetheart, is that what this is?"

"how did you even reach that conclusion?? I literally live with you."

"Then, is that penthouse too small, I did think it wa-

"I don't need you to spend your money on me."

"You don't need my money? Then why are you dating me?"

"I'm dating you because I like you not your money."

"yeah, that doesn't sound right."

You will probably need a lot more reassuring for him to finally realise that you aren't in this relationship for the money.

Even after he gets it, he will probably be just as dramatic as he was before.

You will also have to teach him now to manage his money and spend in limits.

BONUS:

"uh-oh what'd I do now?" He questions as he walked into your shared room looking at the glare you're giving him.

"That." You point your finger to a small box placed at the table. Goo's eyes widened at the sight of the tiny velvet case.

"I found that while cleaning. Did I not tell you to stop buying anymore jewelry?" You glare at him with crossed hands and legs.

"sweetheart. That's a wedding ring. I was planning on proposing. Now that's a surprise ruined."

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Heyo, back at it again with with that horny shit. I'm tagging my gremlin-keeper @brandnewhuman again. As always, please 18+ . Slight degradation, but he likes it.

Countdown

You ought to punt that doll out a window.

Now, you knew that the doll didn't really hold the spirit of Brahms Heelshire. You weren't stupid, you heard the man in the walls scurrying about like some sort of rat man.

You did your best to ignore the scratching, things of yours being moved or just straight up missing. You ignored the doll showing up in unexpected places. Again, you were not stupid.

But this was the last straw.

You baked your ass off to make that cake. Layers of chocolate mixed with fresh whipped cream, topped with strawberries dippied in dark chocolate that you had to give Malcolm extra money to buy.

You intended to share this creation with your live-in-wall roommate.

But imagine the absolute heartbreak when you walked into the kitchen and found the cake missing.

The. Whole. Damn. Thing.

Level headed you flew out the window, replaced with the hangry, rage fueled you. You went up to wall, pounding on the plaster with both hands "Brahms,you motherfucker! Do you know how long it took me to make that?!? Get that flat, dusty,musty ass out here right now!"

You were met with silence "Brahms Heelshire! I'm going to count to five and if you do not come out, I'm coming in."

"Five..."

A slight creak of the floorboards.

"Four...Three..."

A clicking noise came from a section of the paneling. Slowly,the wood opened, revealing a tall, hairy man. Part of your mind couldn't believe what you were seeing. There had been a small fraction of you that had rather believed the ghost doll story.

It was preferable to the grown ass man literally crawling out of the walls.

Taking a deep breath, you smiled "Well, good afternoon, Brahms. I want you to answer me truthfully. Did you eat the cake."

Once again, you were met with silence "Listen, I'm not going to lie and say I'm not upset. I worked very hard on that cake."

At this point, between how uncomfortable close he had gotten and the silent stare he was giving you, you're patience was wearing thin.

Desperate times called for Desperate measures.

"Fine then, you want to act like a child? I'm going to treat you like a child. Lean on the table."

Brahms tilted his head "Y/n..."

"I said lean over that table, right now. Do not make me ask you again!"

As dejected has a man of his stature could be, Brahms did as he was told. To be completely honest, you were expecting a little bit more of a fight.

Gathering up your courage, you moved his ratty cardigan away from his backside "It took me a total of 5 hours to bake that cake. So, how does 5 punishments sound?"

Brahms whimpered, as your hand graze the curve of his ass " Now, come on. This is supposed to be a punishment. Are you really this desperate?"

"P-Please, y/n. I just- it looked so good. "

SMACK! Brahms yelped, trying to not let you realize how amazing it felt.

But you weren't stupid.

"Did I say that you could speak? Now, I have to start all over again. You have my permission to countdown."

SMACK!

Another whimper spilled from his lips "O-one!"

"Good boy."

SMACK

Brahms gasped, hips rocking into the table " T-two!! Mhmm..."

SMACK

He groaned, feeling his pants tightening "T-threeeeee!"

You chuckled "Now, Brahms, this is supposed to be a punishment. And here you are, humping the table like a horny bitch. "

SMACK

"Are you seriously about to come in your pants? You really are desperate!"

SMACK

"How many is that, love?"

"F-Five. Y/n, please let me come. P-Please, I need to come!"

You rubbed his tender backside "Hmm, I'm not sure you deserve it. Good boys get to come and you haven't been good. Stealing my underwear, scratching the walls. Are you going to be a good boy now? "

Brahms whined, his hips frantically moving against the table "Yes! I'll be so good!"

You hummed "Well if you promise. Turn around for me."

Brahms did what he was told, facing you. You stroked his porcelain cheek, unzipping his pants enough for you to slip your hand underneath. Rubbing it against his cloth covered cock, your other hand reached up to grab his.

"C'mon, Brahmsy, come against my hand. Cream your pants like the good boy you are."

Brahms lurched foreword, a wet heat blooming against your hand. You slipped the hand into his underwear, earning a delicious whine from the man above you. Collecting some of his cum on your fingers, you brought it to your mouth.

Slowly, you sucked his cum off your fingers, nose scrunching up at the taste "Hmmm, my cake would have been better."

Still shaking from his orgasam, Brahms nodded "It was."

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Rest Your Weary Hands Part 5

Ivar gets his legs this chapter. I'm finding it very hard to write the reader as totally inclusive and it's making it hard to enjoy the writing, I will try to keep it as neutral as possible but there will be some body descriptions. I'm a WOC so it will have that very slight theme. I'm sorry if it no longer relates to you.

Part 4

Warnings: Past sexual harassment. migraines, Ivar is a sweetie with a terrible bedside manner, hurt/comfort, chronic pain and illness. If I miss any please let me know.

2,881 Words

Comment if you want to be tagged.

Queen Aslaug walks into your little Healers store with one request, help her son. Said to be blessed by the gods, you find your life becoming more and more intertwined with the young prince as you do your best to ease his pain. It will soon be apparent that outside forces have other ideas.

Ivar had no idea why you had dragged him to the Blacksmith so early, nor why you spent most of the night more measuring his legs. You had insisted that it was a surprise and that he would have to wait and see.

The Blacksmith's shop was out of the way enough that you didn't think you needed to worry about being found, but nonetheless, you asked if the store could be closed for the morning.

"What are you planning y/n?"

You didn't want to tell him until you knew it could be done. You had read an old letter from someone who used forged braces and a crutch to help someone trampled by a horse to walk again, and you wanted to see if the design could be repurposed with Ivar in mind.

"You won't be here for long, My Prince, and then you can spend the rest of the morning with your Bothers, if all goes well you can come back tonight." Ivar looked at you strangely.

"Fine, but don't keep me here the whole day if whatever you're doing fails."

It didn't take long for Ivar's part to be over, all he had to was sit there while the Blacksmith made sure your measurements were correct.

"You can go now, I'll see you back here tonight." It seemed Ivar was waiting for you to follow him.

"Go, you're free of me for the day. Go off and have fun." he seemed to take that, you couldn't wait for his return.

You found yourself enjoying the smithing more than you thought, but the smell of the melting metal and the heat was making you feel unwell. You knew you should have gone home but the pain you were in for in the coming days was nothing compared to what Ivar was about to get.

"Calm down, y/n. Ivar will be back by nightfall and then you can show him all your hard work. If you keep moving around like that, you'll shake my shack down." You liked the Blacksmith, he was blunt and had a good sense of humour.

"I know, I'm just ready for this to be done so Ivar can finally feel like a normal man."

As the sun began to set, the cast metal was finally cool, and you could hear the telltale clank slide of Ivar arriving.

He knew something was going on, he had never seen you smile so big and you were moving from foot to foot like you had taken something you shouldn't have.

"I have a surprise for you My Prince."

You directed him to lay on the ground on some furs you had laid out.

"Just trust me ok?" The clanging sound was not fun, and you could feel it shake your skull. You knew that sooner or later, it would trigger an attack and your head would feel like it was being split open but as long as you lasted till tomorrow, you'd be ok.

It didn't take as long as you thought to have the braces on, when the last hammer blow fell the Blacksmith was already going to the backroom to get the new crutch.

"Ok, I'm going to help you for a minute but you should be able to do it yourself when you get your balance."

When Ivar saw the crutch, it clicked.

"What did you plan Woman?" He was so confused.

"No time to talk, I'm going to grab one of your hands and I want you to put the other one the crutch, then on three, I'm going to pull you up."

You did so, holding onto his hand as tight as you could while you use your combined body weight to rock back and then pull up.

Ivar wobbled for a moment and then managed to stand still. You let go of his hand slowly but stayed close enough to catch him if he fell. The smile on his face was worth everything. But that's not Ivar was thinking, sure he was standing but the way you were looking at him made him feel like he had just slain Fenrir.

"Now put your weight on the crutch and take one step, one whatever leg feels the best." He did so, all be it a little wobbly.

He was looking at you in disbelief.

"Now do it with the other leg." he was more steady now, you didn't feel like you had to be standing there to catch him. You didn't expect Ivar to be able to pick it up so quickly, you also didn't expect him to walk over and hug you. But he did, he crossed the room with surprising ease and wrapped you in his arms like a snake.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." It sounded like he was crying but it was getting hard to you to take a deep breath

By Thor he was strong.

"Ivar you're crushing me." he pulled back but kept his hands on you. A silence came over the room. You had never seen him his close, he was very handsome.

"We are late for dinner but I think you deserve to make an entrance." You had planned to be late so everyone was in the hall when you got in but there's was no way you'd ever tell Ivar that. The Blacksmith looked at you like he knew, you had wondered why he took so long to cut all the leather.

"We should take the back way to avoid spoiling the surprise." You were smiling so much your face was hurting.

"Agreed" The Blacksmith was shoving you both out the back door the moment you figure out your plan

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

You and Ivar pressed yourself against the wall as you walked back to the Great Hall.

"AHHH Ivar." You yank him behind a pillar to avoid the men walking by.

"Oh, so I'm Ivar now?" You could hear something in his voice but it was hard to pinpoint.

"I think I've earnt a first name basis." Ivar didn't say anything, and you started to walk again.

"Stop making eye contact with them Ivar, you'll give us away." Ivar rolled his eyes at you very dramatically.

"I'm not the one who keeps squealing when people walk by!" You were pressed against the wall in an alleyway a street away from the Great Hall now.

"I do not squeal!" Ivar pressed his hand over his face to stop a laugh.

"Collect yourself, it will make more of an impact if we just walk in." Ivar took a deep breath and followed after you.

The Great Hall was quiet tonight, Ragnar's family had forgone the nightly feast to spend time with each other.

"I'll go in and sit down, you come in just after me." Ivar thought to himself that you would never make a spy.

You walked into the Great Hall as calmly as you could, you couldn't even make eye contact with anyone for fear of breaking.

"Sorry I'm late, Ivar should be in soon." they knew something was up.

Thump step, thump step, thump step.

"That should be him now." You watched the door open and the crutch come through the opening, you hid your face behind your hands to hide your smile.

Ivar stood proudly in the door was before coming in and sitting down without a word. You shared a look and turned to the room. Aslaug was crying, fanning her hand in hopes of banishing the tears.

"We've had a busy day." Then you were being flung out of your seat in Ubbe's arms. He was squeezing you with all his might while spinning you around in circles.

"This is wonderful. You are truly a gift from the gods." You could hear the elation in his voice. Aslaug was standing next to her Son, looking into his eyes.

"I knew I was right."

How cryptic

"Thank you y/n, for everything you've done for us." that meant a lot coming from Lagertha.

"How did you come up with this?" Sigurd sounded impressed.

"It wasn't my idea. I acquired some letters from a traveller, those letters spoke of a man who, after being trampled by a horse, was able to walk again with braces and a crutch." Nods all around, they seemed like they really wanted to listen to you.

"What's strangest things you've seen?" Ubbe was always very curious.

"Bug bites. The man had just returned from a raid when he noticed, it turns out he fell asleep next to the ocean and was attacked but sea lice that had been whipped into the wind by a storm." You can still remember pouring over scrolls for hours because you had never seen that rash pattern before.

"Have you ever refused to treat someone?" they could see you trying not the laugh.

"Yes, an Earl in the mountains. He fell off a horse as a young man and was having back pain." They knew who you were talking about because he never talked about anything else.

"Earl Knut?" Ivar's tone was impassive, you nodded at him.

"Go on", Bjorn was smiling.

"He was unbearable, he never did anything I asked and just complained all day long. Had he got up off his arse and walked around he would have started feeling better." Ivar looked angry, you understood that. It was hard to live with pain you couldn't control, especially when other people took that control for granted.

"And his Son, by the Gods that man was a pest. He would not leave me alone, it was like he was a rabid dog, or an enormous horse fly." Lagertha and Aslaug giggled in sympathy.

"One day, he comes into the store complaining about a cut on his arm; when I came back from getting supplies from the back, he was standing in the middle of the room stark naked with a flower in his mouth." Ivar didn't look very comfortable.

"I don't know how I handled it without losing my temper. He only left me alone when I found a new healer for his Father, this one was a man and didn't know left from right."

"I don't think most men know the difference between left and right." Aslaug was funny when she wanted to be.

You were really starting to feel the headache now, you hoped that if you got to bed now, you could still function tomorrow.

You were wrong.

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

When you woke up it was still dark, your head felt like it was about to burst open. But you could hear Ivar moving around so you had to get up.

"Is everything ok Ivar?" he looked well, maybe a little tried considering how late it was when you heard him come in.

"My feet are swollen, I can't get my shoes on." He didn't sound as down on himself as usual.

"That's to be expected, I'll make you some tea." You went to your chest and hot out the same herbs you gave Ubbe when he fell off his horse. After it steeped, you handed it to him.

"I don't like this one, it makes my stomach hurt." You were not in the mood for this.

"Drink the drink Ivar, or I will make you." You sounded a lot like his Mother then, he was too scared to Disobey.

"Thank you, try again in 20 minutes, if it's not better I'll get you another cup. In the meantime, I'll get you some food so your stomach doesn't hurt."

Ivar managed to get his shoes on the first time and you and he walked to breakfast. Ivar was ravenous but you could barely contain the urge to gag, you settled for eating some bread and salty eggs so people wouldn't worry.

"You should come out to the training field with us, we'd hate from something to happen to Ivar the first time he fights on his feet." Sigurd sounded genuinely concerned.

"Of course, I'm looking forward to watching Ivar defeat all of you." You should be in bed resting, but you didn't want to worry anyone, and you certainly didn't want anyone fussing over you.

***********

Despite the growing pain, you were having fun, the cool air on your skin and the pleasant smell of the forested training grounds helped immensely.

Ivar was a very fast learner, he only fell on his face once before he gained his balance. You watched him swing the sword at his Brothers over and over again without tiring, dragging himself around his whole life had made his upper body strong and given him more endurance than his Brothers.

Come lunchtime, you only managed to eat some bread and meat. You were too preoccupied to see how worried they all were.

"I think we should take y/n back to the Hall, she doesn't look very well." Ubbe was ready for you to fall in a heap.

"She hasn't eaten enough today, especially with the cold. That can't help."

Ivar didn't know what to do, it was clear something was very wrong but you were also doing your best to hide it.

"What wrong y/n?" You were taken aback, you never expected them to notice.

"I'm just tired is all." Ivar could tell you were lying.

"No you're not, you're hurting somewhere. Don't lie to me." You could tell his anger was from worry.

"My head is aching, it happens from time to time. I just need a day or two and I'll be back to normal. I promise I won't neglect you." Ivar was gripping your arms and pulling you off your seat.

"We are going back home now, and you will spend the day resting. It's not up for debate, if you don't go, you will be carried." You looked back at his Brothers hoping for backup, but they weren't on your side.

You all walked back slowly, Ivar was watching you the whole time.

You were practically pushed into Ivar's bedroom. "This is unnecessary, I will be fine." Ivar didn't even respond.

"You don't need to put me to bed, either!" There was no point fighting. Plus, you didn't feel like it.

You could hear someone rooting around in your trunk and then Ivar was approaching you with a cup. You could already smell the bitter drink.

"Ivar I don't need that, you know how strong it is." he didn't seem to even hear you.

"Drink the drink y/n or I will make you." You did your best to glare at him but you could see Hvitserk chuckling in the background. You took it in one shot, by the time it started to work everyone but Ivar had left.

"Someone will keep you entertained when you get up."

You woke up a few hours later, Ivar was sitting at the end of your small bed reading a book.

"I'll have Hvitserk bring you some food, you will finish the whole plate before you get up." You'd have to work on his bedside manner but he wasn't bad at looking after another person.

He'll make a good Father.

"I'm actually starving." You looked a little strange but Ivar knew how you felt, but he would take feeling like his skull was full of rabbit fur over the pain any day.

The boys were in out all day, Sigurd has swapped places with Hvitserk once you were done with your meal.

"If you're feeling ok, can you tell me about all your herbs?" You have wondered when Sigurd would bring it up.

"If you bring me my chest I can show you right now." He did just that.

You went through everything, taking out each jar and pouch and showing him how you had already portioned off every ingredient.

"Do you use the same amount for every person?" You liked that question.

"No, half the portion for children, the whole portion for women and teenagers and double for men." Sigurd thought that made a lot of sense.

"What about for Berserkers?" You held up three fingers, your face said that you had some stories.

It was dinner time when you were done.

"Thank you for being such great company Sigurd."

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

Dinner went much better than breakfast, it was still a little hard to carry on a conversation that involved thinking but you were feeling much better.

"We'll have to have you back here very soon, Bjorn and Lagertha are leaving for their Earldom soon and we would like to discuss some trade ideas." It took a moment for it to sink in.

"You want my advice?" You must have been looking at Aslaug like she had two heads.

"Of course I do, who better to ask about spices than the expert." You were still a little stunned.

You and Ivar went to bed pretty early, you were drying your hair when Ivar asked you to sit down with him at the table.

"Y/n, I wanted to ask you something?" you bobbed your head for him to continue.

"I would like you to stay here in Kattegat with my family and me, I see no reason for you to go back to your village. You can treat your patients here, I'm sure Mother would be happy to give you the best stall in the market."

Oh no

Part 6

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[themxlkyyway]

0.1 Diagon Alley

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Warning: None :)

Word Count: 1.6k+

Copying, adapting, and plagiarism, whether in person or digitally, is totally prohibited. Please do not translate and use it as your own work.

July 28, 1989

Two months have passed since that crazy day in the alley. I learned that Professor McGonagall taught Transformations and was an animagus so she could shapeshift into a tabby cat. She, or rather Dumbledore, who was the headmaster of the school, put me up in a room, where I could eat whatever I wanted and bathe.

— Do you have the list of what you need? — asked the teacher as we walked towards a sealed brick wall.

— Yes, I have it here. — I took the paper out of my pocket to show her. — But wherever we're supposed to go, this wall is clearly sealed.

— Take a step back, Barnes. — He tapped three times on one of the bricks, three up and two horizontally. The brick he had hit moved strangely and from the middle of that brick wall a rather large hole appeared.

— How... did you do this? — my eyes were the size of soup plates.

— Magic, my dear. — she stepped through the hole into a large street full of stores, cauldrons and people shopping.

— Welcome to Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley? What a peculiar name. I followed the teacher's lead as I swung my head around trying to see every store. Spiders? They really are wizards if they fly on brooms. I had only heard of them from stories, they said they were bad people. Around me I could see several people my own age, maybe they were also new to this world. I was just hoping to meet someone who was just like me.

— Open the list, we have to start shopping. — said the teacher pulling me out of my thoughts, I unfolded the sheet and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF MAGIC

UNIFORM First year students will need:

-Three plain working robes (black). -One pointed hat (black) for everyday wear. -One pair of protective gloves (dragon skin or similar). -One winter cloak (black, with silver clasps).

(All student clothing must have name tags on it).

BOOKS All students must have a copy of the following books:

-The Statutory Book of Spells (Class 1), Miranda Goshawk. -A History of Magic, Bathilda Bagshot. -Magical Theory, Adalbert Waffling. -A beginner's guide to transformation, Emeric Switch. -A Thousand Magical Herbs and Mushrooms, Phyllida Spore. -Filters and magic potions, Arsenius Jigger. -Fantastic Animals and Where to Find Them, Newt Scamander. -The Dark Forces. A guide to self-protection, Quentin Trimble.

REST OF THE EQUIPMENT

1 wand. 1 cauldron (pewter, size 2). 1 set of glass or crystal phials. 1 telescope. 1 set of brass scales.

Students may also bring an owl, cat or toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST GRADERS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE BROOMS OF THEIR OWN.

— Come on, there is a lot of shopping to do.

We were on our way to where I would buy my uniform, we already had almost everything, only my uniform, my wand and my mascot were missing. In a cart we carried the books, the scales, the cauldron, the sets of glass beads and the telescope. We entered Madame Mulkin's store, the sound of a bell announced our arrival, and a smiling and plump witch dressed in mauve welcomed us.

— Hogwarts? — she said as she looked at the teacher. — Nice to have you here. - the teacher nodded her head.

Madame Mulkin motioned for me to follow her and I didn't move until the teacher gave me a gentle push.

— Go, my dear, it will be quick. — I nodded before following Madame Mulkin to a footstool, which she made me climb onto. She slipped a robe over my head and began to measure and mark the appropriate length.

Again I heard the bell on the door letting us know that someone else had arrived.

— I'll get you your uniform as quickly as possible, beautiful. — she said and then approached those who had arrived. — Ah the Weasleys, nice to have you here again.

With some trepidation I turned and saw a family, they had red hair, they looked like carrots. Two boys who looked like twins passed by where I was, both on a footstool, waiting for Madame Mulkin to finish with my uniform. I think I was staring at them for a while because I saw a hand move in front of my face.

— Are you all right? — one of them said. — Do we have something on our faces? — replied the other.

I shook my head apologetically under my breath.

— It's all ready, beautiful.

Without further ado I thanked him and got down from the stool with some haste, I saw how the teacher was talking to the red-haired lady and I approached her with some embarrassment.

— Can we go? — I said once I was next to Professor McGonagall. She said goodbye to the lady and then we left the store.

Our next stop was the wand shop. The store looked cramped and shabby, and above the door we could read in golden letters "Ollivander: maker of excellent wands since 382 B.C.". Already entering the store a bell could be heard ringing just like in Madame Mulkin's store. It looked like a library, but they were not books, they were thousands of narrow boxes, carefully stacked up to the ceiling.

— Good afternoon — said a gentleman with a kind voice.

I startled at the sound of the voice and the creaking of the floor. I looked at the teacher, but she was still with her emotionless face.

A gentleman with big pale eyes, they were very beautiful, they reminded me of the full moon. I gave him a small smile as I waited for him to continue talking.

— Ah, yes — said the man as he arranged a small mountain of narrow boxes. — Amelea... — the man looked behind me to where the teacher was and with a small smile returned his gaze to me. — Amelea Barnes. Nice to meet you. — I could see in his expression how he wanted to speak, but he refused to say it.

— Come on Ollivander, we need to make one more stop, this is no time for small talk. — Professor McGonagall said in her dry voice.

Mr. Ollivander cast a thoughtful glance. — Well, now, Amelea... Let me see. — From his pocket he took out a tape measure. With which arm do you hold the wand?

I've never had a wand, how would I know that? I decided to go by the hand with which I write and raised my left hand.

— With my left hand, sir... — I replied.

— Extend your arm, Amelea. — He measured from my shoulder to my finger, then from my wrist to my elbow, from my shoulder to the ground, from my knee to my armpit and around my head. It was all so fast. As he was mediating he was saying to me:

— Every Ollivander wand has a central core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feather and dragon heart nerves. No two Ollivander wands are alike, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are alike. And, of course, you will never get as good results with another wizard's wand.

As I was processing the information he had just given me I hadn't noticed that he was no longer standing next to me, but checking among the shelves, pulling out boxes, which I assumed that inside these narrow boxes were the wands. He opened a box and pulled out a wand.

— Okay, Amelea, try this one. Ebony wood and unicorn hair, twenty-one and a half centimeters. Springy. Go on, try it, wave it.

I took the wand with my left hand, I observed the details of it before waving it around. Seeing the failed attempt, he took the wand away from me and put it back in its box to keep looking for more.

— No... Yew wood with a phoenix soul, twenty-eight centimeters, inflexible flexibility. An unusual combination.

He handed me the wand and the second I held it in my hand a warmth came to my fingers. I waved the wand in the air and some green lights appeared and hit the wall.

— Bravo, it's the right one... Well, well, well, it's quite curious...

I took the wand from my hand and put it back in its box and then wrapped it in wrapping paper while still mumbling: "Curious... quite curious".

— Excuse me, but... what's so curious, sir? — I said in a soft tone as I watched him wrap the box.

He looked up and locked his gaze with mine.

— I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Barnes. Every single wand. It turns out that your wand is quite powerful, but quite damaging if it falls into the wrong hands. Yew wands are the rarest to see, whoever possesses it are likewise unusual. It has the great reputation of giving its wielder the great power of life and death. — Before he could continue speaking, the teacher interrupted him.

— That's all, Ollivander, you've said too much, look how the poor girl has turned out. — she mentioned at my still and confused state. — Thank you very much. — said the teacher as she handed him the coins.

We left the place and headed towards the pet store.

— Don't pay too much attention to him, dear, she just likes to talk too much.

I nodded at her words, I tried to get his words out of my mind, but the last sentence still echoed, "They have the great reputation of giving their possessor the great power of life and death". What did he mean by that?

We arrived at a shop, Owl Emporium.

— Wait for me here, I'll go buy your owl. — She disappeared into the store. I leaned back on the cart carrying my things, waiting for her to return.

A few minutes later, the teacher came out with a cage in her hands, a small brown owl with white dots, its eyes were open yellow.

— His name is Howard, take him as a birthday present. Come on, you have everything, you must rest after this day.

Tags: imma-too-many-fandoms

[hyetiny]

c// fem!reader, superhero reader, villain yeosang, lowkey enemies to fwb, top yeo, bottom reader, bodily scars + showing them to each other, mentions of violence, clubbing, drinking, dry humping, oral (f receiving), knifeplay, pain kink, choking, degradation, dirty talk, protected sex, yeo monster cock

please read the tags carefully, this may not be for everyone!

this is the longest thing i've ever written omfg. also i’m really proud of this, please don’t let it flop :’D

kang yeosang was the root of everything wrong in your life, you had decided.

he was like the annoying fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing around your ear on a hot summer’s day. no matter how many times you were certain that you had vanquished the city of the blight that was yeosang, the supervillain managed to come back unnoticed.

at this point, you were convincing yourself it was impossible to cease him from causing trouble. on shitty nights like this, you went down to the discreet nightclub, hidden away in a dark alleyway. whether you needed a good drink or a good fuck, the club was always there to provide.

“the usual?” the familiar bartender yunho asks, taking in your frustrated expression and slumped shoulders that he sees far too often. 

“yep, a slouchy susan.” you roll your eyes at the corny names yunho would come up with, your mind wandering to the silly names he must have had for the other patrons. it was always comforting to have a chat with the friendly bartender after a hard day - plus, you couldn’t deny he was absolute eye candy. 

“top it off, please.” you shift your glass back to him after downing it.

“put it on my tab, yuyu”. a familiar, deep voice comes from next to you.

you turn to see yet another unbelievably attractive man. he has blonde hair that grows just past his neck, his natural black roots starting to show through. from where you’re sitting on your rickety stool, you pick up on the hint of cologne that lingers on him. you’ve never seen him before, yet something about him seems eerily familiar, like you’ve seen him in a dream.

you shake off the feeling, instead deciding to chat him up.

“yuyu?” you giggle at his affectionate nickname for the barkeep.

“we go way back, it’s what his mother would call him when she’d drop him off to school. i guess it stuck”. the man smiles at you, visibly taking in your features and not breaking eye contact with you.

you’re taken aback by him, your heart thumping unusually fast for some reason.

“stop embarrassing me, yeo-”

the man clears his throat loudly. you must have missed something, because yunho immediately goes quiet and wordlessly hands your drinks - your “slouchy susan” and a whiskey for the man.

“so if he’s yuyu, what are you?” you ask him.

“you can call me ryusang.” he says.

“y/n”. 

the two of you lapse into easy conversation. you giggle at his lame jokes, and he does the same. you find common interests, funny anecdotes, blissfully letting the stresses of the day slip away with each word of the attractive ryusang.

soon enough, the dance floor grows crowded and the music gets louder.

“dance with me?” ryusang stands up, offering a hand. you take it gratefully, letting him drag you to the dance floor. it’s a mess of sweaty bodies, but you don’t care as you become part of it with ryusang. his hands find your hips, and you’re both falling into an easy rhythm, completely in sync with the trap music blasting from the speakers.

as expected, the space between you gradually gets smaller and smaller, until it’s practically non-existent. you’re shamelessly grinding against each other, joining the litany of couples who are completely up against each other. you pretend not to pay any mind to his noticeably growing bulge, instead deciding to tease him a bit by intentionally grinding up harder against him. this night was going right where you wanted it to.

“my place is near here.” he whispers right into your ear, making you shiver underneath him.

“then we’d better get out of here quickly, hm?” you say in response.

since you had both been drinking, you decide to take a cab to his place. the sexual tension is rife in the air. you deliberately, teasingly lay a hand on his thigh, oh so close to his crotch, his face glowing red as it clearly riles him up.

when you get up the flight of stairs up to his apartment, and he fumbles with the key for what feels like minutes, you’re all over each other. the first kiss you share is nothing but messy - all teeth and tongue, nothing but complete lust for one another. he’s gently guiding you towards his room, until your legs hit his mattress. you break the kiss, only for him to gently lay you down, straddle you, and get right back to sloppily kissing you.

he undoes the buttons of your blouse without breaking the kiss, impressively with one hand. he breaks the kiss once again to take in the sight of your newly exposed skin. his eyes engulf the expanse of scars on your skin, some older and some looking to be very much recent.

“who did this to you?” he whispers in what seems to be a mixture of awe and anger. hesitantly, he runs a finger across a thin line that spans from your lower belly to your ribcage.

“you did, yeosang.” you say, deadpan.

he pauses, his heart dropping to his stomach.  “excuse me?”

“did you think you were fooling me? seriously, why didn’t you pick a less obvious fake name?” you giggle. despite the vulnerable position you’re in, you clearly hold the upper hand, indulging in his shocked expression. you hadn't missed the bartender's obvious slip up of yeosang's name, and could never forget that deep voice of his that would always taunt you.

“you’re always screwing me over y/n. i didn’t think we’d end up like this”. he says as a smooth recovery.

you roll your eyes. “remember when you gave me this?” you tap at the scar. he shakes his head.

“two years ago. you were trying to get rid of all power in the city. i almost stopped you, so you pegged a knife right here.” 

“if i was trying to kill you, the knife would’ve stuck.” he says defensively. “you got away with a scratch, only because i wanted that.”

“well, thanks for not trying to kill me, kang yeosang. i’m flattered.” you say sarcastically. 

“well, you gave me something worse.” he strips himself of his shirt. to no surprise, his skin is similar to yours. a canvas for an array of marks and scars, most of which you recognize to be your own work.

you point to an especially long one on his collarbone. “that one was definitely me.”

“yeah, and it hurt like a bitch.” he says snarkily.

“well, now we’re both half naked.”

“nice catch.”

“well for convenience’s sake, we may as well get back to-”

his lips are on yours again, effectively shutting you up. you don’t protest - besides, it’s hard to when his tongue is in your mouth. 

what you don’t expect is the cold press of something against your throat, which then trails down to your collarbones. it isn’t pleasant, but not uncomfortable either. it’s sharp against your skin, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

yeosang begins to press open mouthed kisses against your skin, alongside what you now see is a familiar knife in his hand. you begin to feel more vulnerable underneath him, knowing he had complete power over you. yet somehow, you don’t feel afraid of the man who has your life in his hands.

he undoes your jeans, letting out a low whistle at the damp spot forming against your panties. the flat side of the blade presses against your clothed core, earning a whine for him.

"fucking touch me already". you say through gritted teeth, despising that your mortal enemy has you so needy for him.

"am i not already touching you?" he says with a shit eating smirk. fuck him, you think. but that was exactly what you wanted to do.

to your surprise, you hear the sound of fabric ripping, and a sudden cold against your core, as though-

"i liked those." you say frustratedly, finding yeosang pulling away the ripped remnants of your panties away from your core.

"you look far better without them." is all he says before licking an experimental stripe up your already wet hole, earning a breathy moan from you. you don't have it in you to be mouthy when his tongue continues to tease your labia, eventually meeting your clit in what is the most heavenly thing you've ever felt. all thoughts of how much you hate the man currently eating you out are out the window as the pad of his finger presses against your clit, his tongue messily lapping at your hole as if he was just licking for his pleasure rather than yours.

your hips subconsciously grind up in tandem with his tongue, earning small moans from him as well.

"so fucking wet. do you usually get this wet this quickly, or are you just that much of a slut for me?" he chuckles.

it takes every ounce of self control not to flick him on the forehead. the degrading name catches you off guard, yet somehow it makes your hole clench needily. besides, you want what's hidden under the confines of his black jeans far too much to be mean to him right now.

"just... just fill me up, yeosang."

"i like you like this." he says with a cocky smile. it gives you butterflies, even though you know it means nothing more than just a spur of the moment thought. "beg for me a little more, and i'll think about it."

oh, the urge to punch him in the face.

"fuck you."

"that's the plan."

you sigh in frustration. "kang yeosang, my mortal enemy, fill me up with your monster fucking cock until i can't think straight." you say sarcastically.

surprisingly, it's enough for him. it seems you weren't wrong when you said "monster cock" his cock far thicker and longer than any cock you had taken recently. or in general, for that matter.

he must notice the way you gape at it, giggling to himself.

"cond-" you start, but he cuts you off by leaning over to his bedside drawer.

he shuffles around before he finds what he's looking for, sliding on the first condom he finds and coating himself in lube for good measure.

"ready? are you okay?" he asks, lining himself up against your entrance.

you want to roll your eyes, but you know he's just looking out for you. you give him a nod, and it's all it takes for him to push, breaching your wet hole and filling you up perfectly. you can't stop the high whine that leaves your lips. it's embarrassing, but yeosang seems to enjoy it, groaning into your ear.

"you're so fucking tight. expected you to be all stretched out like the whore you are." he whispers into your ear, embarrassingly only making you clench more around him.

you barely need to adjust, needing nothing more than for him to ruin you. his hips set a steady pace, grinding oh so perfectly against you. the tip of his cock perfectly reaches that sweet spot inside you, earning a louder moan for him. you'd be embarrassed with what his neighbours must be hearing, but it's the last thing on your mind when you have such a perfect cock stretching you out.

"fuck, my perfect slut. so nice and tight around my cock, huh? it's like this pussy was made to take my cock." he growls, his thrusts only getting harder and sloppier the closer he gets to his high.

"o-only for you." you cry out, gasping as he fills you up impossibly deep, over and over again. the coil building up in your stomach only gets tighter when his fingers find your clit.

the breaking point is when his lips meet your collarbone, leaving more kisses and tiny bites here and there. the sensations all over are too much for you. you cry out when your orgasm hits you harder than ever before, leaving you breathless. your orgasm triggers his as well, indicated by the long, pleasured groan he lets out.

you can't do anything but catch your breath as he pulls out, taking off the condom, tying it up and throwing it away in the bin next to his bed.

"who knew that all it took was a good fuck to get you weak for me?" yeosang breaks the silence.

"shut up." you say weakly, still too breathless to properly argue back.

"maybe i will, if you make me."

needless to say, he keeps you up for a few more hours until you both fall asleep, the first rays of the sunrise peeking through the blinds of his window.

the next morning, you wake up groggy and exhausted, the drinks and activities from last night finally catching up to your body. to your disappointment, yeosang isn't there next to you, the other side of the bed empty.

of course, the asshole didn't have the decency to wait for you to wake up. reaching out for your phone, you find to your surprise that there's a sticky note on it.

“last night was fun, we should do it again. i've gone out to wreak havoc, so i know our paths will cross again soon anyway.” - your mortal enemy, kang yeosang <3

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 2

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 2075

Additional note: In Norway, you are of age at 18.

Enjoy 🙂

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"... don't start eating until your brother joins us."

As he pushes himself down the large hallway leading to the kitchen, Ivar can hear Lagertha's assertive voice. He knows exactly who she's talking to and his suspicions are confirmed as soon as he enters the room, as a very displeased and apparently famished Hvitserk looks at him with irritation before letting out a muffled, "it's 'bout time."

"Sorry, I must have dozed off." Shrugging, Ivar wheels up to the kitchen table, the smell of pizza tickling his nostrils. He must be hungrier than he thought.

"You look like Hel." Sigurd sneers in greeting.

Ivar, without bothering to look up, just tilts his head and hisses through clenched teeth, "coming from you, dear brother, I take that as a compliment."

He can feel Lagertha's gaze upon him and when he turns his head toward her, she is staring at him, the worry obvious in her eyes.

"I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that but Sigurd isn't wrong." She crosses the room and leans over, her brow furrowed. "You look exhausted, sweetie, what's going on?"

Ivar almost wants to laugh. He looks exhausted? No kidding? Yeah, guess what? That's what two sleepless nights in a row usually do to you. At least that's what they did to him. What you did to him, haunting his nights and even haunting his dreams, waking him up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, the few times he managed to fall asleep. At least, he'd made up his mind early this morning. Hopefully, now that the decision has been made, he'll sleep better. Saturday night, he'll see you again. His heart is racing at the thought and he inhales deeply, trying to calm down.

Unsurprisingly persistent, Lagertha asks again as she places her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "Ivar, are you all right?"

He wishes he could just ignore his stepmom but knows she won't let it rest. Unwilling to admit that he owes his restless nights to a girl - to you - he decides to keep his answer vague. "So-so," he mumbles, slightly rocking his right hand.

"You're in pain? Do you need more meds? I could run to the drugstore really quick."

For once, he doesn't resent Ubbe for his well-meant yet patronizing kindness, nor for the pitying look he gives him. Actually, he silently thanks him for the good diversion. As long as his brothers and Lagertha believe that it's his legs that bother him, keeping him awake, his secret - you - will be safe.

Faking a small, sheepish smile, Ivar shakes his head. "Thanks bro, but that's okay, I have everything I need. Guess I should just double-up the tramadol tonight." He winces for good measure, knowing fully well he won't even need a single dose. The pain in his legs today is barely at four, nothing he can't handle.

Once the meal is almost over – which in plain English means that everyone but Hvitserk has finished eating, but thanks to Lagertha principle 'no one leaves the table until everyone has finished, boys', they're all stuck here – Ivar decides it's time to break the news.

"I'm gonna go to the party."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the kitchen falls quiet. Even Hvitserk stops chewing, putting his last slice of pizza back on his plate.

Not knowing what to do with the silence, and feeling a little awkward, Ivar explains further, a hand on his neck, "the midsummer party, I mean. Harald's party."

"We heard you just fine, sweetie." Lagertha is the first to pull herself together, even though the disbelief is clear in her voice. As Ivar looks up, his brothers are staring at him, slack-jawed, bewildered, probably wondering what's got into their baby brother.

"Let me get this straight." With widened eyes, Ubbe starts running both hands through his hair, "you are considering attending Harald's party, right? That's... That's what you said?"

"Yep." Ivar shrugs as if it was no big deal. Who is he kidding? Of course, it is! Attending the party is a fucking huge deal for him. There's no way in Hel he'll admit it, though. Not in front of his brothers. No fucking way!

"I'm not sure I understand..." Ubbe sounds cautious and it infuriates Ivar to no end.

"What part of 'I'm gonna go to the party' don't you get, brother? Huh? Too many big words for you?" He wants to keep going but when Lagertha clears her throat and gives him a stern look, he faintly raises an apologetic hand while muttering under his breath, "okay, okay, I'll stop."

Heaving a sigh, he shrugs once more. "Seriously, you don't all have to look so surprised. I just want to go to Harald's party. It's really not that big of a deal."

"But you never wanted to, sweetie. Why now?" Lagertha's eyes are wide open and there's a frown on her forehead as she crosses her arms.

"Why not?" Ivar can't help but raise his voice. "I'm sixteen, Lagertha! Thought I was entitled to a change of heart. Was I wrong?" Pointing a finger successively at each of his brothers, his free hand grabs his push rim, his knuckles white. "The three of you attend every year, why shouldn't I?" Looking directly at Lagetha once again, he asks in a clipped voice, "You're not going to tell me I can't go, are you?"

"Of course not, sweet–" She begins but Ubbe cuts her off.

"Listen Ivar, no one is saying you shouldn't go, not yet at least. As a matter of fact, no one would be more pleased than I if you were willing to go out more. Playing pool, going to the movies, or just having drinks, you know you're always welcome to come along with us. But..." Ubbe groans, rubbing his hands over his face and Ivar stiffens, grinding his teeth, "Harald's party, really? It's not going to work. You know it takes place on the beach, it's not exactly wheelchair-friendly."

Reluctantly taking his eyes off his slice of pizza, Hvitserk jumps in. "Ivar is our brother, if he wants to go, we find a way. That's it - I'll carry him."

Positively surprised, a small smile playing on his lips, Ivar thanks his brother with a nod, glad – and relieved too, because two are always better than one, right? – that Hvitserk, as so often, backs him up. Of all his brothers, he's the only one who sees him first as a sixteen-year-old and not as a cripple.

Ubbe is having none of it though. "Hvitserk, just stay out of this, okay?" He's practically shouting, chin up and chest out. "You don't have a say! I'm the oldest, not you! I don't think it's a good idea for Ivar to attend Harald's party, period."

Hvitserk furrows his brow and for a short moment, Ivar thinks his brother is going to fight back but eventually he lowers his gaze, defeated, before shoving the whole slice of pizza into his mouth. Ivar knows all too well that his brother, who's not the most tenacious of them, hates confrontation, especially with Ubbe.

Unlike him, Ivar is always ready to pick up a fight, even when it's not worth it, even when he is wrong. Today, though, it's definitely worth it.

His nostrils flaring, he smashes his fist down on the table, his face crumpled with anger. "Who do you think you are, Ubbe? You may be the oldest, but you're not my father, okay? So please, just do me a favor, brother, and read my lips." His voice dripping with sarcasm, his bottom lips quivering, Ivar is absolutely livid, "You. Don't. Have. A. Say. Period."

Ubbe is about to retort, his hands clenched into fists but Lagertha raises a hand, shutting him up. "Boys, boys, boys!" Glancing at Ubbe and then at Ivar, she shakes her head, not exactly thrilled with their outburst. "Now, calm down, both of you. Ubbe, Ivar is right. You may be his big brother, you may be an adult, but you're not his father. I know you mean well but as Ivar's guardian, I have the final say." Turning her head toward Ivar, she cracks him a reassuring smile. "We'll talk about this later, okay? Just the two of us."

***

Slamming the door shut, Ivar wheels up right next to his bed and, angling his chair just right, transfers over onto his bed before punching the wall, a roar escaping his lips. Big tears of frustration and anger run down his cheeks as Sigurd's words linger in his mind.

He had been surprised when his less-favorite brother had stayed out of the conversation.

He should have known better.

No sooner had Lagertha, Ubbe and Hvitserk left – she to make a phone call, they to join Margrethe – leaving them to tidy up the kitchen, than Sigurd had lashed out at him with harsh words and eyes full of spite.

"You messed up in the head, huh? It's a fucking beach, Ivar, you do realize your front wheels will get stuck in sand, right? Now tell me, little brother, do you really think we are going to carry your crippled ass around all night? Let me tell you, it's not going to happen! There will be so many better ways for us to spend the night. Girls, you know? Lots of them. Am I going to let you embarrass me and ruin my night? No! Not in a million years. And anyway, why do you even want to go? Get real, Ivar, you don't belong there, you just don't. You're a fucking cripple, a freak, an abnormality. No one wants you there. No one wants to see you. The sooner you accept it the better."

He knows Sigurd was intentionally trying to hurt him. And fuck, he did succeed. Ivar had felt so humiliated that it had brought bile to his throat.

At some point, while Sigurd was spitting his venom, Ivar had grabbed the large knife lying on the table and it took all his self-control not to stab his brother. No doubt his shrink would be proud of him.

Now though in his room, and even if he is boiling with anger, the nagging thought that Sigurd had a point, that he wasn't completely wrong, doesn't leave him. And he can see now that, in his own weird way, Ubbe was trying to protect him. By preventing him from going, his big brother wanted to spare him humiliation, pity, and mockery. Hvitserk, of course, had been willing to help, but let's face it, Sigurd once again was right. Piggy-back riding is not really an option anymore, he is too heavy. Plus, if he's being honest, even if it were still possible, it's the last thing he'd want. The mere thought of you seeing him on Ubbe's or Hvitserk's back makes him nauseous. Which puts him back to square one.

The beach is a problem and a huge one. Wheeling in sand is a no-go. It's just fucking impossible. If he doesn't come up with an idea soon, he's not going to be physically able to attend the party. And that's something he doesn't want to consider.

"I need a fucking genius idea!" He speaks out loud, cracking his knuckles, his eyes squeezed shut.

Fuck.

He just wants to see you. Y/N... Just you. And he won't be able to.

Fuck. Fucking sand! Fucking beach! Fucking legs! Fuck– Stop.

Wait.

What... What did he say?

He needs an idea... A genius idea. Genius. That's it.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

Good thing he knows an authentic genius, right?

Grabbing his phone, he frantically slides his pointer finger on the screen, sighing with relief as he finds the contact he is looking for.

"Hello, Ivar," the man answers after two rings, and his voice brings an even bigger smile to Ivar's lips, "it's very sweet of you to call me."

"Hello to you too, you spindly legged, knock-kneed old fool. There might be something that you can do for me. I want to attend Harald's party. It'll take place on the beach. My brothers won't carry me and I can't really crawl about, can I? I wonder if you could help me, Floki?"

Ivar's godfather lets out a high-pitched chuckle before answering, "I'll figure something out, dear Ivar, I'll figure something out."

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Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927

[angelamajiki]

PARINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x Prostitute! Female! Reader

CW: yandere, noncon, degradation, choking, somno? somno, prostitutes, unprepared sex, shigaraki has a FAT crush on mirko and decided he needed to take it out on you

AN: my first shiggy fic! please mind the tags and enjoy <3

For @tomurasprincess Shigaraki Birthday Celebration Collab! enjoy bb <33

Turning 21 and still being a virgin? It was pathetic, really. His birthday was not something he was used to celebrating; there were more important things for him to divert his attention to than a petty holiday. It was just another part of society that needed to be eliminated.

But, damn it all, if Dabi wouldn’t stop pestering him about “letting off steam” down on some street corner.

“I already told you, I don’t want some cheap hooker that’s gonna squeal on us.” Tomura sighed, scratching at his neck with a frustrated vigor. “Take Giran with you if you’re that desperate. Hell, Twice might even go too.”

But Dabi didn’t budge. “I’m not doing this for me, boss. It’ll be good to stop being so pent up and pissy.”

His grin was wide and toothy. Tch, of course, this was some kind of game to him. The bastard probably wanted to see how long he would last his first time, which even he knew wouldn’t be too long. Not that he would admit that out loud, least of all to the man sitting across from him at the bar.

“I am not pent up and pissy. I’ll go as long as you’re the one paying.”

“No sweat off my back, boss. I'll take you somewhere nice. Kurogiri said it's where your old man used to go to relax.”

———

The man wasn't lying when he said the place was nice. It was too nice. Made is his skin crawl to see so much money being thrown around so carelessly. They were all disgusting, sniveling pigs who would all bow to him one day, so he paid them no mind as they passed the whores around as quick as they would a used napkin.

“See, told ya I was takin’ you somewhere nice. So pick someone you like and a room to, uh, get to know them in. I'm off.” With that, Dabi stalked off to find his own kill for the night.

But how could Tomura choose just one? There were so many choices. Women, men, those who blurred the gender lines, mutants, both pretty and ugly. But hey, everyone’s got a fetish nowadays. The elaborate costumes and lingerie they wore meant nothing to him; it would just get in the way.

His eyes scanned the room before he did a double-take over the hero section. Heroes were popular, but Christ, would people be so depraved and desperate they would pay to stick themselves in a fake one just to bust? Apparently he was one of those people tonight. When he saw those bunny ears and that bodysuit, Tomura Shigaraki was done for.

A pink flush dusted his cheeks as he approved the vixen, the imitation of the woman of his dreams, more specifically, you dressed in a Mirko cosplay, tail and all. It was naturally unrequited feelings, but damn if his cock didn't get hard at the sight of Rumi viciously tearing through villains like they weren’t even human. She would make a fine one herself. Ah, but only in his fantasies. Or so he thought until tonight.

Lanky, bone dry fingers make their way around your wrist to yank you up out of your seat. Your eyelash had bat up at him as he had walked over, his attraction towards you was obvious. But he wasn't here to play games, so your coquettish flirting did nothing but make him cringe.

“Come on, little bunny.” He tugged you along to a private room. “We’re going to play together.”

Tomura was undoubtedly more excited than when he first entered the brothel. He sat down on the room's velvet couch and spread his legs, patting his bony left thigh.

“Sit. I don't like to repeat myself, so don't make me.”

You sauntered over to him, giving a slow walk to build than anticipation, but he wasn't feeling patient tonight. Tch, hero slut thinking you impress him? You were nothing but a hole for him to corrupt.

Four fingers brought you to his lap roughly, migrating to your neck for good measure.

“Do you know who I am, Mirko?”

Was he delusional? Not really.

Possibly.

Definitely.

But that wasn't the issue at hand.

A meek “no, sir” stuttered out from your bulging eyes and reddened face as he squeezed with bitterness he didn't know he had.

“No? The number five doesn't know who I am?”

It was true then, he was just scum under her shoes. Who was he kidding? That damn rabbit bitch would kill him without a second thought.

“You think you’re so high and might don't you, hero?” He sneered venomously, tightening his grip while your arms weakly hit him. Good, he liked a challenge. “Looks like you need to be put in your place, bunny bitch.”

Your thrashing did nothing to quell his frustrated growls and huffs as he pulled the thong of the cheap bodysuit to the side—no point in disintegrating the whole thing. God, he couldn't wait to get his cock stuffed to the hilt inside you. His hard cock sprung free from his sweatpants as he pulled up the hood to his black sweatshirt.

The scene was already set in his head, a camera pointed directly at her as he corrupted her hero pussy for all of Japan to see what a whore their number five was. Unfortunately, you would have to do, alone with him in the dank room of the brothel.

God, you were just ruining everything weren't you? You hardly looked like her at all, especially with all that crying and squealing. She would never be so pathetic.

“Shut the fuck up; I’ll give you something to cry about.”

With that, he sheathed himself inside of your unprepared pussy. Oh fuck, did your walls clamp down on him perfectly. At least you were good for something.

Tomura wanted it to hurt, relishing in the screams you let out as he inched his way into your resistant cunt.

“Yeah, that's right. Scream for my cock. It's stretching you out nice and good, isn't it?”

He only got a sob as a response.

“I asked you a question, bitch.”

Ah, an enthusiastic yes. Maybe you weren't such a bad substitute after all. Heavy balls pressed snuggly against your skin as he fought the urge to cum so soon after violating you. The thought of one day being balls deep in Mirko almost sent him over the edge, but looking at your tear-stricken, choked-out expression lulled him back. Ugh, that definitely would keep him busting on the spot.

His pace was brutal as he snapped his hips into yours, snarling and growling all the way.

“You think you're too good for me, Rumi? Think you're hot shit? You're nothing but a breeding bunny for me.”

Your cunt felt heavenly clenching around him, he noticed that the harder he choked you, you squeezed his coco tighter. He quite liked the sound of your crying and pleading for him to stop, it was almost cute. Keyword being almost.

Now he's not one for pain, but damn if they sting on his thighs from slapping against your skin didn't feel just incredible. He has a fleeting thought to wonder how you're feeling, but he supposed it didn’t matter all that much. It was your job to please him, right?

“Cum on this fucking villain cock, Rumi. Show the world you're nothing more than a villain’s whore.”

It was his turn to cry, more so out of frustration as he used your body like a fleshlight, pounding into your now wet cunt mercilessly. God, if this didn't hurt knowing he'd never have her. But you seemed to do the job just fine.

The tail on the back of your bodysuit was bouncing and jumping with his thrust. What he would give just to be able to grab the real thing and hear her squeals of Tomura, more, more!

At some point, you had lost consciousness, and he couldn't find it in himself to care as he continued to chase his pleasure. He moaned louder and bolder now that you were out cold, hell, he even whined a few times. Not that anyone was around, or awake, to hear him.

He couldn't help but sob as he creamed your unresponsive cunt, hunching over your limp body and nuzzling his face into the faux ears you wore. Tomura could imagine how soft the real deal would be as they talked after, saying everything and nothing all at once.

Although it seemed it would be nothing as you were still limp and flushed under his arms. At least you were breathing and had a pulse.

Cleaning himself up, he stuffed a couple of dirty dollars into your still dripping cunt and stalked out of the room.

He’d definitely come back for round two.