#Second Person POV

[ladyymiisa]

PINCH ‘EM!

summary: katsuki just loves your cheeks!

tags: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader, fluff, katsuki is a tease

author’s note: starting the new year off strong with katsuki fluff!! i luv him sm

if there’s one thing about you that drives katsuki absolutely insane on a daily basis, it’s your cheeks.

those soft, round, ridiculously cute, rosy cheeks that make his brain glitch like an old vending machine. they give him such violent cuteness aggression that he’s genuinely considered throwing himself off a rooftop just to reset. it’s humiliating, really, how much power your dumb face has over him.

but watching you eat? that’s a whole other level of torture. the way your cheeks puff out with every bite, like you’re stockpiling food for winter, makes his eye twitch in equal parts annoyance and affection. he calls you chipmunk, because honestly, you might as well be one. it’s absurd, it’s irrational, and it’s ruining his life. but here he is, still watching, still obsessed, like the fool he is.

“kats—ow!” you whine mid food gulp, flinching as his fingers suddenly latch onto your cheeks like a crab on a mission. with zero warning, he starts squishing and pulling them, treating your face like it’s his own personal stress toy. “what the hell are you doing?”

you manage to gripe, trying to pry his hands off your poor, defenseless cheeks. your words are muffled as he stretches them in every direction, but he doesn’t bother answering. he’s far too focused on whatever weird satisfaction he’s getting from turning your face into putty in his hands.

“try that again,” he growls, giving your cheeks another firm pinch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “and i’ll squeeze ‘em even harder.”

you glare at him, your face still trapped in his grip. it’s hard to take him seriously when his smug smirk is stretched across his face like he just won the lottery. however, it’s clear that your discomfort is his entertainment, and it makes you want to bite back, but you can’t seem to muster the energy to do so.

meanwhile, katsuki is having the time of his life. it’s not his fault your skin is so damn malleable, like some kind of stress ball he can just squish and pull at his leisure. with every pinch, your face contorts in the most ridiculous ways, and it only makes his shit-eating smirk grow wider, as if he’s proud of the mess he’s making.

“y’look so stupid,” he mutters under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, though it sounds more like he’s speaking to himself. “stupid chipmunk,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost fond.

before you can even process what’s happening, his face is in front of yours, and with no warning, he plants a big, exaggerated smooch right on your lips. it’s awkward, considering how he’s still squishing your cheeks together, making your lips pucker out like a weird fish, but somehow, you can’t help but find it endearing.

then he does it again, this time a bit harder. and again. and again. each kiss lands wherever he can reach—your lips, your nose, your forehead, even your eyelids—like he’s trying to cover every inch of your face. you feel warmth spread across your chest from the tenderness of his gestures, even if they’re a little ridiculous. despite the absurdity of the situation, there’s something unexpectedly sweet about the way he’s so gentle with you, even when he’s teasing you relentlessly.

you’re about to tease him right back for being such a softie, ready to throw out a playful jab when, of course, he just has to ruin the moment.

“ew, katsuki!��� you yelp, your voice high-pitched with surprise as he suddenly sinks his teeth into your right cheek. it’s not hard enough to hurt, more like a playful nip, but it’s wet and the way his tongue shamelessly flickers against the bite mark sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. you try to push him off, but he’s latched onto you like some feral animal.

“seriously?!” you gasp, squirming in his grip, but he remains completely unbothered. “this is disgusting! my cheek’s all wet now!” you cry, twisting and turning in his arms, trying to wipe the saliva off with your shoulder.

“serves you right for biting my shoulder earlier. y’thought i’d forget? hah.” he says with a wicked smirk, leaning back just enough to admire the mess he’s made of your face—flustered, pouty, and still glistening with the aftermath of his attack.

you groan, smacking his chest in frustration, but the bastard doesn’t even flinch. in fact, he looks proud of himself.

“you’re the absolute worst, katsuki bakugo.” you glare at him, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“yeah, i’m fuckin’ terrible,” he grins, clearly enjoying the annoyance in your voice. to emphasize his words—and to annoy you even further probably—he pinches the same cheek he just bit like an overbearing grandma checking to see if you had enough to eat.

yup, katsuki loves your cheeks, especially when they’re all flushed because of him.

[kabr0ztrousers]

hey could you write about a pussy portal? with whatever monster you feel like! also could it be semi-public (public but hidden)? also knotting is appreciated!

Kabr0z Writes episode 53: Hornyposting

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: portal sex; knotting; public sex; cum in vagina; unknown male; freeuse; recieving cunnilingus; age gap; implied impregnation; interspecies; portal fucking

A/N: I do love writing portal fucking, though I'm not sure I understood the prompt properly on this one, so enjoy reading about fem!reader being fucked by a knotted cock while falling to avoid notice

Also, any requests etc, please drop an ask!

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When you bought something called a "telepresence glory hole" you weren't honestly expecting what you got. It arrived OK, and came with a phonebook of a disclaimer which you didn't bother reading. What was really interesting was, it actually seemed legit. In the box you got a pair of panties, and a handheld device that looked kinda like a fleshlight. Both had strange disks integrated to them made of some kind of metal. You spent the next hour going through the manual, registering them to a phone app and generating a friend code.

Testing went without a hitch, you plugged the friend code into the app, and the link established with a faint buzz. Next came the fun part. You broke the link, before taking to the internet. Would you believe there's a whole community centred around these things?

You got changed, a nice sundress to go out in, those panties underneath. A quick picture later and you posted your selfie and your code, out in the aether. You set off, walking to the cafe, locking the app as you left. For the next 4 hours, you're open for business.

The bell on the café door jingled as it opened. The local corporate chain, you weren't going to risk getting chucked out of a café you actually liked, but even if the coffee sucked here the wifi's free and there's plenty of people around. You joined the back of the line and inched towards the counter.

You felt a draft down below. A breath across your cunt. There were still a few people ahead of you. A shiver ran up your spine, it's starting already.

A wide tongue grazed your outer lips, starting slowly. You tensed your cunt a little to egg whoever this was on. You'd said in your post that you were up for any guy to give you a fuck, though maybe you hadn't mentioned what you'd be up to in the meantime... But that's very much what things like this were designed for, nobody's wearing these for a quiet night in.

The tongue came again, holding back a little less this time, coating the outside of your pussy in drool as it licked up and down your-

"Hi! What can I get for you?" The rictus grin of the cashier snapped you out of your thoughts

"C-cappuchino please. Large" you stammered out, speaking fast to try and avoid your voice giving you away.

You paid noiselessly, tapping your card on the machine which beeped compliantly before stepping over to the other counter with your receipt and the order number printed on it.

The tongue got more aggressive. Your knee buckled as it circled your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut a moment as it threatened to slip into your eager hole. You leaned on a low wall behind you, trying to look nonchalant as you checked your forum post.

WolfDaddy1969 had replied to you "Don't need to tell me twice" was this the person so diligently licking you out? He didn't have a profile picture. God, but whoever this was, they're good with their tongue. You rolled your head backwards in ecstasy, trying to disguise it by rubbing the back of your neck, but the quiet whimper you gave drew the eye of the suited woman beside you as she stepped forward to grab a tray of paper cups.

"Order 42, large cappuccino, regular milk"

Your legs threatened to betray you as you as you stepped up and took the almost litre cup of coffee with your order number stuck to it. You turned to try and find a table, almost stumbling as you did. The movement was shifting your pussy lips, moving them subtly against one another as the tongue pushed between them. You fell into a seat, legs spread. You could feel moisture leaking around the edges of the portal, the combination of drool and your pussy juice starting to slick your crotch.

The tongue had barely let up before you felt something else pressing against you. Hard and drooling, there was no mistaking it. You'd been with a lupine before, you knew how they start squirting precum almost as soon as you get them hard. You imagined it, if this wolf really was born in the late 60's then he'd have been in his thirties before you were even conceived... It turned you on knowing this cock was old enough to be your father.

He pushed in, or maybe down? Your pussy making up the business end of the toy he was fucking himself with. He slid in easily. Your toes curled in your shoes as you gripped the table in front of you, clenching your teeth as he started fucking you properly. He angled his toy, only slightly but enough that you could feel him thrust up into your g-spot before continuing into you. Despite your efforts, you could feel yourself making small, choked sounds with every thrust. His thumb hit your clit. You groaned as your legs started to shake, failing to hide your release as people started to take notice. A mix of worried and disgusted looks fixed upon you, some people clearly having an idea of what was happening.

The cock filled you up. The clenching of your aching cunt getting to the cock inside you. You felt the knit start to inflate. It was pulsing so deliciously, your mouth sagged open in a silent wail of delight and release.

The cashier from before was next to you "I think you should leave" his smile was gone, he just looked tired.

You nodded and got up, The movement of your legs rolling the swollen knot inside you, forcing you to walle away, your drink forgotten as you tried to ignore the mix of arousal and cum dripping down your legs.

The outside air was cold on your skin, the wetness covering your thighs stinging as it cooled in the brisk February air. At least you're within walking distance of home, though it's anyone's guess if you'd get back before the wolf was done with you.

He was still using you to jerk off, the knot thrusting up and down as you tried to walk, dictating the rhythm of your steps. You weren't hiding your noises any more either, there were fewer people on the suburban streets, but every one of them knew you had something going on down there. Some hurried on, some threw dirty looks, one or two gave wolf whistles and catcalls, only making you wetter.

You were halfway home when the knot started twisting in you, this way and that. You grabbed a lamppost as you moaned out, trying desperately to keep from falling as your knees gave way and your cunt gave another squirt of girlcum. He turned his cock again and again, feeling how you clenched and milked his knot, wringing every morsel of cum from him, before withdrawing with a pop.

That tongue came back. You slid down the pole, landing on your knees as the wolf licked deep inside you, tasting his cum as it mixed with your essence. You could swear it hit your cervix as you groaned and whined for all to see.

The tongue withdrew. The portal shut off and you were alone again, leaking onto the floor underneath you. You staggered to your feet, still clinging to the street furniture as you got your breath back. Legs still shaking, pussy still twitching, you got home.

The portal buzzed to life again. You checked your post. You'd been pinned to the front page, it looks like WolfDaddy left you a glowing review "10/10, tight pussy, would impregnate again"

You were going to have a lot of fun with this

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There's a little narrative dissonance between where it started and where it went here, but I thought it shook out pretty well, and you're not here for tight editing.

As always, any requests, ideas, thoughts, questions or fanmail is appreciated! My DMs and asks remain open for use!

Also, see below for a surprise poll!

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Excuse me, Mr. Loaf Man?

Masterlist²

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Squid Game

Pairing: platonic: Salesman x Reader,

Characters: Salesman, Reader, background homeless people, parents - mom and dad,

Tags: gn!child!Reader, compassionate!Salesman, still unhinged!Salesman, abusive parents, angst, fluff, comfort, 2nd person POV, Reader's POV, alternating POV, 3rd person POV, Salesman's POV, Reader is a single child, obsessed!Salesman,

Warnings: spousal abuse(implied), child abuse, starvation, force feeding, yelling, child negligence, vomiting (mention), Reader is locked in a closet as punishment, cuss word(s) (I think)

Summary: 10 year old Reader prefers spending their time in a park. They can keep themself entertained. Sometimes they see a man walking around, talking with homeless people. After a couple of times, they decide to approach him.

Word count: 6075

Acronyms: (y/n) - your name, (f/n) - father's name, (m/n) - mother's name

A/N: Pretty sure there's dubious pacing; mind any possible grammatical errors or accidental shift of Reader's gender.. Tell me if I missed a tag; I'm weird and I can't write

A/N: I was the one that made the childish drawing above on my tablet. Just for this fanfic. I just edited it a little to look like it's a child showing it (hands are from google). I tried to make reader neutral looking but I couldn't manage. But it's the thought that counts. Don't copy without tagging me.

Reader's POV

You make your way to the nearby park, again. You sort of can't wait, you hope that the kind man will be there today as well. For days you've been bracing yourself how to approach him.

On days when your mom can't immediately pick you up from school, — tuesdays, thursdays and fridays — you learned to keep yourself busy. Your favorite place is at the park. Nobody bothers you there. And one day you saw a man in a suit with bags in each hand. He went up to every homeless man and woman handing out something. You couldn't see it from so far away. No one looks at homeless people. But he does, so he must be kind.

If he's willing to talk to them then maybe he'll talk to you too? No one really likes you either. You don't have any friends. And dad certainly thinks of you as too revolting to look at.

After that day you went to the park every time mom runs late. Keeping an eye out for him. He wasn't always there. But you felt better after getting a glance of him. Also you kept shortening the distance from which you were watching him.

But now you are ready. You didn't have to wait long after arriving. You basically rush up to him and before you can chicken out you speak. "Excuse me, sir…?"

He turns to look at you, his expression a little irritated and curious at being interrupted. A raised eyebrow and a short "Yes?" is enough to make you continue.

"What do you have in those bags, sir?" you ask tilting your head.

He considers you for a moment then he opens one bag, curtly replying "Bread."

You feel your eyes widening at the amount of packaged loaves. Is that what he always offers others? You look up at him eagerly, "Can I have one, please?"

To your astonishment he agrees and lets you take it. "Gamsahabnida, sir." [Thank you, sir] With that you rush back to your spot on the bench.

You happily eat while you see him going through every person. After the last man, he then walks and stops in the centre of the pavement. He does something you didn't see before nor expect. He empties both bags to the ground, bread lands on the ground. And when a man crouching, reaches for one. He stomps on it.

"I gave you a chance, and you made your choice." His voice is loud enough for you to clearly hear what he's saying. "I'm not the one who threw these away." He points to the ground, "It's you, ladies and gentlemen."

And then he starts jumping and crushing the bread. You keep nibbling on your loaf but it does nothing to calm your beating heart at the familiar sight. You know very well it's a reasonable punishment for not eating. You don't understand how they could keep denying the bread to the point that today the kind man had enough of them. You're happy you managed to get one loaf from him.

You keep your gaze down on the ground in front of you. There's still plenty of time until mom can finally drive you home.

So you decide to do your homework. You were already half-way done when lesson ended. You were putting the last touches when a shadow falls on you and your notebook. You glance up to see loaf man staring intensely at you. Does he want to sit here?

Your cheeks flush with shame, you scramble up to pack everything. "S-sorry, sir."

He grabs your wrist to stop you from packing up further. "It's fine. I don't mind." He gives you a small smile. "If I may ask… Why are you here? Where are your parents?"

You hug your exercise book to soothe yourself. "At work. Mom doesn't pick me up until later." A bit of silence passes that you break quietly. "Thank you again for the bread. It was delicious."

In softened voice and a bit slowly the man speaks, "Did I frighten you little one? Are you scared of me?"

You're pinching and rubbing the book cover in a soothing motion. You look at the ground which is when you notice he still has the paper bags but this time containing stomped on bread.

"Not really? I was a little startled when you dumped and crushed the bread… But I get it. My parents don't like it when I refuse to eat either. But usually I have to eat it when dad tells me so; even if I don't like the taste."

"Is that so?" It's told with an edge you can't pick up.

You nod your head, your grip on the book loosens.

"How old are you?"

"…ten…" Your answer is mumbled enough that the man has to lean in closer to hear it.

"You're ten?" He whispered in disbelief. He looks around as if to see if someone finds this unbelievable as well. "…and how long will it be until your mother picks you up?" His eyes jump across your face in search of something.

"It's usually 4:48 PM. Maybe minutes earlier or later. I don't mind it much. I'm a big kid."

His eyes darkened for a moment only to be swiftly replaced by softness and calmness. He sends you a charming smile. "Then you wouldn't mind my company then?"

You shake your head and that's that.

Since Mr. Loaf Man doesn't mind, you unpack again to finish the rest of your homework. He doesn't speak to you again. Just sits there, quietly observing you. After you finish every homework you had, you decide to play around. A little hide and seek. Mr. Loaf Man even played along with you! When time neared 4:30 you already have everything in your backpack and are ready to head back to your school gate. That was the moment when he offered to walk you there. He's so kind! Of course you readily agreed.

After arriving to your school, he makes sure you'll be okay alone and walks away. You only wait six minutes after that for your mom to come. You step into the car and buckle your seatbelt.

"Did you have fun at school sweetie?"

"Yes, mom. Just like always. I even got to solve an equation and write it on the board!" You say with excitement.

"That's amazing, sweetie."

...

"Mom…?" she hums, "…what's for dinner today?"

"Maybe… Baechu Guk, hmm?" You actually like it so maybe it won't be that bad today. You will lick the plate clean! And dad will be happy. It's not your favorite but at least it's not sannakji. You felt really sick after eating that. You hate it but dad makes sure you eat it everytime it's served. You can cry and scream but dad knows how to force you to swallow it. But more often than not, you throw up afterwards. And then you don't get to eat for couple days. As a way to make up for you wasting food.

Mom parks the car before your house. You quickly get out to help her carry the grocery bag. She opens the door and you make your way to the kitchen. Not before quickly taking off your shoes. In fast moves you set everything on the table and then place things in the correct cupboards (those that you can reach).

Your mom walks in, having already hung her coat. "That's okay, (y/n). I have it from here. You go to your room and do your homework, okay? Food will be ready in half an hour." She rubs your head.

"Okay mom." You go to the front door to leave your jacket on the hanger. You hurry to your room.

You only have 30 minutes to think of a gift for Mr. Loaf Man. You need to show your gratitude. It's proper.

But you don't know what he likes… A bracelet is out, he doesn't seem like the type. Besides it's more a gift for girls. A key chain? You don't know his favorite colors though, so it's out too.

A picture maybe? Nothing goes wrong there. Maybe it's a little basic… But you might be able to give him something better later on.

But you want it to look, if not good, decent enough. It has to show your gratefulness. So minutes pass as you test out different colors and positions and something always didn't sit quite right. It turns out ugly. You ended up re-doing it every time. You couldn't decide what else to draw when mom calls for dinner.

Dad already sat in his chair, his face forever frozen on expressing frustration. You join the table as mom brings food.

First portion goes to dad then mom and then to you. You wait until dad starts eating.

"(y/n), tell your dad what you managed to do today."

You nod your head, enthusiastic to share your accomplishment. Dad might be happy too. "I got to do an exercise in front of the whole class! I solved every equation correctly."

He scoffs, "What is there to be proud of? You probably forgot to do your homework."

You lower your head and focus on eating, every ounce of excitement leaving your body.

"(f/n)!"

"What?! You know I'm telling the truth! They're incompetent! Not even the top of their class." He grunts and goes back to eating.

"They're capable enough not to need help with homework. (y/n), did you manage to finish everything your teacher gave you?"

Forgetting to swallow, you answer that yes, you did. Your mother continues, "See? They did that in half an hour."

Dad growls and bangs his hand on the table. "Are you blind, (m/n)?! Did you not see what I did? How many times have I repeated myself- No talking with your mouth full! Clearly (y/n) is a useless brat! Nothing stays in that head."

You curl in on yourself further. Wishing to become invisible in this moment. But you also hurry with Baechu Guk to avoid angering him further. And because you're going to need it. As you know you can't avoid your punishment for forgetting a rule. Thankfully this time your dad decides to punish you after dinner.

Mom cleans the table while dad grips your small arm and leads you to the punishment closet. He shoves you inside. "You should know the deal. But since you're a forgetful dumbass, I'll repeat it for you." He leans closer to your face, disgust clear on his face. "You stay here as long as the number of times you broke the rules. For every disobedience is 10 more minutes. Today marks 110 minutes, congratulations. Now, quiet!" He hissed the last part. With that he slams the closet shut. You hear him lock the closet door with a key.

You're shaking all over. Alone in the darkness, dreading how long 110 minutes will feel like. You feel your tears run down your cheeks. You hope he won't forget to get you out. You won't have time to do Mr. Loaf Man that drawing otherwise… You hope that this friday he'll be there and won't mind your company again.

earlier, Salesman's POV

He's heading toward the park where most of the homeless reside. It's the latest whim of the frontman. Social experiments. As if humanity has any hope for redemption. Especially the trash. He's confident it's the fault of player 456 for this idiocy.

Arrogance seems to be a heritable trait for winners. They think of themselves as special. Player 456 with his will to put a stop to the games and player 132… well, being chosen as the next frontman and successor by the host surely went to his head.

He arrives to the park when he hears someone run in his direction. He was ready to pay them no mind. He's far more irritateable today. He keeps walking until he hears a child's voice. "Excuse me, sir…?"

Curious what a child might want from him, he turns his head to look at them. He lets out a clipped "Yes?". Though he had no intention for it to come out unkind. Apparently today the hold on his mask is far looser than he thought.

Astonishingly the child isn't deferred by his sharpness. With a tilt to their head they ask the last question he expected. Which it shouldn't have been, considering the circumstances.

"What do you have in those bags?"

He considers for a moment what to do. Ignore, not ignore, lie or not. But he sees no harm in answering truthfully. He shifts his hold to open one of the bags so the child can see inside. He says "Bread." with more stable tone, but still has some curtness to it.

He sees their eyes widen with wonder. Their mouth goes slack in shock. They look back up at him in seconds asking if they can have one.

He agrees. One package less won't interfere with overall choice of the less fortunate. There's always more than enough bread left over. Not many choose food over a lottery ticket.

They rush off after saying "Gamsahabnida, sir!". And he goes about his routine. He approaches men, among which only one chose to take the packaged bread and immediately inhaled it. The few women there are a different matter. Within the four only one chose lottery. It always seems like females are smarter in that regard. It's never enough though.

But today, there was something about their choices that kept adding fuel to his already bad mood. He stops in the front, puts down his suitcase and the bags. Then he takes one bag after the other and spills their contents to the ground. Homeless crowd moves with confused apprehension. He pays them no mind.

He feels a twitch of apathy at the quantity. This pile of bread shows exactly why natural selection is so important. Here's proof that humanity's advancement in medicine not only helped raise quality of life, but also allowed inferior genes to survive. Some characteristics should've died out a long time ago.

"Why would you throw away perfectly good food like that?" Unbelievable. The audacity of the question. Doesn't the damn hypocrite hear himself? He declined it, preferred a hopeless chance at winning lottery over nutrition.

The revolting scum reaches for the bread. The entitlement astounds him and he won't let it stand. He crushes the bread with his shoe. But he gains no satisfaction witnessing the uncomprehending expression. "I gave you a chance, and you made your choice."

It doesn't register in their microscopic brains. His voice raises: "I'm not the one who threw these away." he point at the ground to emphasize, "It's you, ladies and gentlemen."

But he observes no shift in their expressions or postures. No change. No remorse. Nothing.

Their lack of critical thinking and absolute absence of self-awareness among them drive him into a frenzy.

He stomps and jumps with fervor, squashing as many bread buns as he can. He unleashes on these packages his tightly contained frustration and anger toward this crowd, his boss and that stupid player 456.

His energy runs out fairly quickly but he feels slightly better for it.

He presses his hands against his face, applying pressure to further ground him to the present. Tries to fix his hair then straighten his spine and tucks in the tie.

He look around to see which packages survived the ordeal. He picks up each one that did and puts them back into the bag. The ungrateful vermin don't deserve good things that's clear.

He's back hiding away behind his calm and unbothered mask. He makes a move to turn around and leave when he sees them. The same child that inquired after the bread.

They're still here? Why? If they saw his actions, why do they remain around? And… are they doing homework?!

He finds himself puzzled and his feet lead him to them automatically. He can't avert his eyes from the sight. Apparently unbothered by the scene he caused just now. He stands there casting a shadow over their book.

You startle and seem in a hurry to make space for him to sit. Except… It looks like you want to get away entirely. He doesn't want that. He takes hold of your wrist to stop you.

"It's fine, I don't mind." He aims for a reassuring smile and doesn't know if he succeeds. "If I may ask… Why are you here? Where are your parents?" Why are you alone when anything tragic can happen to you at anytime?

He notes you're a little nervous or shy but aren't hostile toward him. "At work… Mom doesn't pick me up until later." How much later? He's a psychopathic man who keeps up a facade on a daily basis just to pass as normal; and even he knows it's negligent to leave someone so small and innocent without protection. Wasn't there a saying or a quote telling children should be cherished? Is society at such a low point it's acceptable nowadays? A spark of anger lights up within him, again. Your voice brings him back from his thoughts.

"Thank you again for the bread. It was delicious." Such a polite child. He notes that you still hang on that book for dear life.

He slows his words intentionally, softens his tone to not unnerve you further. "Did I frighten you, little one? Are you scared of me?"

He observes your body, hands are shaking a little, fingers twitching at the book cover.

"… My parents don't like it when I refuse to eat either. But usually I have to eat it when dad tells me so. Even if I don't like the taste."

You answer quietly, but oh. Hearing that you not only understand his actions but your dad forces you to eat something you don't enjoy. That's a brand of cruelty that he finds distasteful. Forcing anybody to anything they're unwilling to is atrocious. At least, he manipulates and twists other's perceptions until people agree by themselves. He has enough finesse to do it the correct way after all.

"Is that so?" You only nod your head. Moreover you're not as tense anymore. Maybe that's what spurs him on to ask the next question, even if it has the ability to anger him further. "How old are you?" He leans in quickly enough to hear you say ten.

T e n .

"You're ten?" He voices his disbelief so quietly he doesn't know if he made any noise. He looks to his right then left almost looking for any possible threat because this child is ten years old and alone, left to their own devices. He's breathless for a moment, because at this discovery he feels unreasonably protective. "…and how long will it be until your mother picks you up?" His eyes take every detail of your face, hoping that it won't be long. But his hopes are crushed like the bread beforehand.

"It's usually 4:48PM…" What kind of parent leaves a child alone for 3 hours?! Truly horrible one, apparently.

"…I'm a big kid." Ohh… The instinct to kill anyone who would even dare to ruin that innocence overwhelms him for a second. He harshly tugs on his control to smile pleasantly at you, "Then you wouldn't mind my company then?"

He receives a shake of your head as an answer. It's so frustratingly easy to have your trust. How come nobody took advantage of that already, he does not know. But he will try his best to keep an eye out for you from now on.

Which he'd be doing a poor job since, at some point, you seemed to have disappeared into thin air from one second to the next. He grew alarmed instantly when he didn't see you next to him. Looking around for you or possible suspects wondering how he didn't notice anyone move. That was until he heard a giggle. He whips around to see a child's shadow behind the tree. He felt instant relief, his heart slowing it's alarming rate.

Apparently someone thought it'd be a good idea to play hide and seek without telling him. And since you're not in danger…

Well… Two can play that game.

"Little one? Where have you gone to?" Another muffled giggle can be heard. "I didn't get to become friends with you properly…" He overexaggerates his sadness. "How will I play with you when I don't even know your name little flower?" He stomps his foot dramatically, childishly, "And now you're gone and we won't meet anymore. Because I don't know how to find you…"

Now those adorable giggles turn into full blown laughter. You step away from the tree and easily run to him to hug his legs.

"You're so silly! We're already friends!" He hugs back to the best of his abilities. And says with, not even faked, surprise: "Really?! I didn't know that!"

"Besides we can meet here in the park, I come here after school, most of the time."

He feels a gentle smile on his face. Being in your presence for such a short time already make him feel lighter and his world a little brighter. Such an easy happiness. "That's good."

"Yeah, also my names is (y/n)! Now you know me." You clap your hands, excited, and go to sit on the bench again.

(y/n), what a beautiful name. I'll protect you, (y/n). No harm will come to you.

He looks at his wristwatch. 4:04. Soon you're getting home. He will walk you there.

When he asks if he can, you agree, again. Turns out he could only walk you to the school gates. Your mother picking you up with a car.

He chose to depart from you, but he stayed to observe from afar. He was displeased since it looked like the mother is malnourished as well as tired. Most of the fault lies solely on your father then. She at least looks a little overworked. It's clear your parents are unfit for the responsibility of caring for a child.

Soon (y/n) will rely on him for everything. He can't wait to meet again.

Back to Reader's POV

When you were finally let out of the closet you were tired. Emotionally drained. You couldn't draw for Mr. Loaf Man now, since you didn't have any energy. You went to the bathroom almost immediately.

Now you are laying on your bed, under the comfort of your blanket and beloved plushie. You pray you'll have time to draw something tomorrow at school. You already put your crayons in your backpack. You just need time. It doesn't even matter to you how it'll turn out. But you can't, won't go empty handed.

You fall into dreamless slumber.

And so you wake up next morning and go through the motions until you're at school. Then at breaks you sit somewhere on the sidelines, using the time to draw the most standard and boring drawing ever. First you did him then yourself. Then you drew a sun in the corner. You wrote who's who just in case. On the next break you drew the green grass and lastly the blue sky.

You're happy it's friday today. That means Mr. Loaf Man and the weekend.

When your lessons end you're in a hurry and have a slight spring in your step. You're basically vibrating with anticipation. You'll head straight to the same bench as yesterday.

But when you arrive… You gasp. He's already there waiting for you. You feel a wide grin spread on your face in happiness. When he notices you, his expression lifts as well.

"Hello (y/n). We're giddy today aren't we?"

"Yes!" You nod your head quickly a couple of times, it made you dizzy. "I have something for you, Mr. Loaf Man!" His eyes widen at that. Whether it's your nickname for him or your gift you don't know. You take off your backpack and immediately open it to reach the drawing.

"I'm sorry it's not good and not pretty enough but I was in a hurry." You hand it to him. He holds it gently as if afraid of crumbling it. He looks at it for a long time in complete silence. So much so that slowly your proud smile gets smaller and smaller. "You don't like it…?" Your voice wavers slightly under your sadness. Your blurry eyes make their way from his face to focusing on his tie.

"What-?" His voice croaks as if he didn't speak for days. "I love it."

You look up at that. "Really?" His face is unguarded. His eys are shiny, one tear already ran down his left cheek. His eyebrows are twitching as if they're unsure which way to go.

"Of course, it's just… it's been… s-such a long while since I got a gift. And one so, so lovely and meaningful as well." He open his arms offering a hug. You take him up on it. His grip on you is unyielding. "Come on, don't cry. There's no need." You hoop your arms around his neck and press your face to his shoulder. He picks you up into his lap. "I appreciate your efforts behind this, alright?" is gently whispered to your ear. You choose this moment to pat his hair, in — what you hope for — is a soothing gesture. You don't know if you succeeded since he started trembling.

He doesn't let you go for a long while. But you don't either.

When both of you are back to decently presentable — and not falling apart — you break away from each other.

"I have something for you too. Nothing as thoughtful though…" He takes the grocery bag that was next to him and reaches inside. He passes to you another packaged bread. You take it and immediately dig in. You thank him for it. "Are you going to offer food to them again? Or did you already did that today?"

He looks at you then to the homeless then back to you. "No and no. I think I'll give them a week to think over their actions, hmm?" He tilts his head in askance.

But you nod your head, "Makes sense. I do that at home too. Maybe it'll work for them too."

His eyes narrow, "What do you mean?"

"When I refuse to eat, I have to. And when i waste food, usually it's after I throw up. I don't get to eat to make up for all the wasted food." You smile up at him, "That's why I like you, sir. You're very kind and fun but you're very fair. But…" You take a thoughtful expression, "I don't get it… why refuse food? They need it after all and unlike me, it's not easily available to them. It'd be really stupid if they did the same in a week."

You focus back on the man's face only to be met with an impressed and proud expression. You feel your cheeks warm up at that look.

"You're very smart and observant, little one;" his soft voice prods at your shyness, "not everyone sees it the same way you do."

When your eyes don't lift from the ground, he speaks up again. "Do you wish to stay here or go somewhere else?"

You look up at him in question.

"What? I have some ideas…"

Salesman's POV

He finds his yesterday's behavior a little ridiculous. Moreover over a child he barely knows anything about. He couldn't put his obssessive focus towards learning more. With only their name and the fact (y/n) has horrendous parents.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't pay any attention to their mother's car registration plate. At least then he'd have a starting point. At this point in time however he can look into the school. The type of students there and the staff.

It did nothing to calm his mind.

He spent his time in bed thinking of many ways to bring them closer to him. How he should go with disposing their parents when he finally learns where you live.

The following morning he wakes from restless sleep and stayed that way throughout his day. Five people he approached to recruit and each time his hand was twitching to use the pent up energy on slapping the trash.

Arriving to the park at similar time as the day before wasn't a problem. Although he automatically sits down on the same bench. Call him overeager and impatient all you want. He has enough patience to wait for you.

And waiting for you he was. He didn't even learn if you have time to come here today.

But he shouldn't have worried, he sees your small form approaching him with clear joy. The moment he notices you, he feels his mood improve. He's not even sure if he manages to contain his own happiness over your eagerness.

"Hello (y/n). We're giddy today aren't we?"

"Yes! I have something for you, Mr. Loaf Man!" His eyes widen at that. Loaf man? However did you come up with that? And did he hear correctly..? You brought something for him?

Quickly your backpack's on the ground and a paper's in your hands. He looks at the paper and his breathing stops. A drawing.

You made a drawing for him, of him and you. "I'm sorry it's not good and pretty enough but I was in a hurry." He can't tear his eyes away from it. He gingerly accepts it from you. Your hands did this. For him. You spent enough of your time thinking about him, in good light nonetheless, that you had to put your thoughts and feelings on paper. It's the most precious thing he came across in a long time.

"You don't like it…?" He barely catches your voice. But when he registers the insecurity in it. He finally looks at you, however it does little, because he doesn't know when he started tearing up.

"What-?" His voice croaks from the sheer pressure of emotions. But he'll sooner kill himself than make you feel inadequate, unappreciated, unloved. "I love it." You have to know that.

"Really?" Fragile hope in your voice is enough to render his tailored armor useless. How does he explain?

"Of course, it's just…" he breathes deeply, "it's been… s-such a long while since I got a gift." Does he even remember the last time? "And one so, so lovely and meaningful as well." He needs to hold you. In this moment he craves to bring you as close as he can to his normally unfeeling heart. He open his arms in invitation.

You take him up on it too.

He grips you strongly. You can't leave him. Not when you demolished his foundation, unearthing emotions he never thought he could feel. You simply can't. He'll lose himself completely.

"Come on, don't cry. There's no need." He doesn't know if it's directed at you or himself. Your small arms wrap around his neck, your face tries to bury itself in his shoulder. He picks you up to hold onto you more comfortably. He presses his head against yours. "I appreciate your efforts behind this, alright?"

His thumb moves up and down on your back. He drowns in his overwhelming love for you. That's when he feels your hand. Your fingers going through his hair, petting him.

Here he is. A monster reduced into quivering mess. Wrapped around your little finger. You're such a devious yet innocent little marvel. You don't even do this on purpose. To have him ready and willing to bend to your every whim in no time at all.

It takes a long while for both of you to calm down and for him to regain his control. You break away from each other when you're sure neither of you won't fall apart all over again.

"I have something for you too. Nothing as thoughtful though…" He reaches next to him for the bag he nearly forgot about. Since he can't trust your parents about your nutrition, he'll take it upon himself. Three hours is a long time for you to grow hungry anyway. There's no harm in providing food. You take the bread from him and with a quick thank you start eating.

"Are you going to offer food to them again? Or did you already did that today?"

He looks at you. You never even talked to them and you're concerned for them. He looks at their pathetic figures, lying, wasting away in the sun. They're undeserving of your concern. He looks back at you and your questioning expression.

"No and no." He shakes his head, he doesn't even want to think about them much less approach. Even if he knows he'll have to at some point. "I think I'll give them a week to think over their actions, hmm?" He tilts his head in mimicry of your action yesterday.

And just like the other times, you don't question his actions nor motives. You simply nod your pretty head.

"Makes sense. I do that at home too. Maybe it'll work for them too."

His eyes narrow at that.

"What do you mean?" He can feel his shackles raising. Such a dangerous territory…

"When I refuse to eat, I have to. And when i waste food, usually it's after I throw up. I don't get to eat to make up for all the wasted food."

So not only is your father shoving food down your throat… He starves you for not holding it down as well. If he ever gets his hands on that repulsive monster, he'll make sure he suffers greatly for his sins.

Your large smile grounds him away from his plans. Even if that smile shouldn't be so wide after talking about your abuse. How did your innocence survive the ordeal?

"That's why I like you, sir. You're very kind and fun but you're very fair."

Him? Fair? Kind? He's flattered you think so, but he doesn't see it. It's probably because your childish view wasn't ruined. You never saw him do anything truly monstrous. He'll make sure you don't.

"But.. I don't get it… why refuse food? They need it after all and unlike me, it's not easily available to them. It'd be really stupid if they did the same in a week." Your pout is very cute and he'd probably focus on it for longer if not for what you said.

You intelligent and observant little creature, you make him feel emotions he didn't before. He's impressed how someone so young can be smarter than the common person. Maybe there's still hope after all. You might not have been acquaintanced for long, barely a day, but he feels pride for your astuteness. He latched onto you. You're his; his light in this dark world with deceptive roads and sharp curves covered with shadows. He'll nurture that intelligence to the best of his abilities.

He sees you blush at his attention, poor thing… You must be so unused to positive attention. He won't let it continue. With a softness he didn't know he's capable of, he voices the compliments. "You're very smart and observant, little one; not everyone sees it the same way you do."

When you still don't look up, he speaks again. This time on a different topic, away from his admiration. Baby steps.

"Do you wish to stay here or go somewhere else?" It works wonders. You look up with a question in your eyes. "What? I have some ideas…

…What do you think about ice-cream?" His suggestion makes your eyes light up with excitement. His world is a little brighter for it.

He'd take you to every shop and buy you anything you'd briefly glance at if that's how you'll look everytime. Just for a chance to see your smiles again.

After ice-cream, you spent the time by simply being in each other's company. You wanted to go back to the park and so you did, but this time to a different part of it. Far away from those hopeless causes. The time flew past just as quickly as the day before. But this time when he walked you to your school's gate and left to observe from afar. He remembered to memorise the licence plate.

He can get to know you to his heart's content. But first, home.

I feel like my brand of weirdness clashed with Salesman's diffrent kind of freak; but I don't think he's too OOC..?

I hope you liked it. <3 There are other parts I have in store, but they can act as stand alone. Tell me if you want me to write them.

There's no masterlist for Squid Game yet

[myblogforeverandalways]

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘎𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵- 𝘒𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨

u guys making me feel special with all these likes gahhh. I'll edit this a little later, but I have a small one-shot for you lovely :)

Köing was not only nervous but also a caring man. At the start of your relationship, he only cared about you and what you craved and truly desired. This touched your heart, a giant prioritizing your wants and needs, even in the bedroom.

Köing never went too rough, constantly checking if you were okay as he kissed you softly, thrusting slowly into your glistening cunt, wetness dripping down your thighs mixed with his thick cum. Ready to be cleaned off by him later as he groaned your name in a mess of English and German, his voice lustful and loving. Your whimpers would echo in the bedroom; you had never adjusted to his size, not with a cock that big, stretching your gummy walls each time you fucked, only to feel like your first time all over again.

Köing was indeed everything you could ever want. His soft touch and alluring eyes, his tall, possessive figure that would make you wetter just looking at him as he held your hand in public, fingers intertwined—he was all yours.

Your sex drive was already at a painful high, and Köing adored it, never wasting a second as those eyes that would flutter every time he pushed into you harder with pure ease, legs over his shoulders, shaking while he eyed you in pure lust, panting like a worn dog, just in pure admiration for your body. Your tiny hands that dug into his biceps as he begged to go faster, a primal urge that tried to control him before he filled your swollen pussy up but;

"No, not just yet, my love. You get to cum when I want you to~." You smirked, hands caressing his hair back, fingers intertwining, knowing this got to him.

You liked to see him beg, to struggle to hold his leaking cum.

Sensitive, aren't you König?

Sensitive to your silky folds, the squelching, sloppy noises as his strength diminished under you.

And poor König, trying so hard to pull himself together as he grunted, kissing your neck in desperation, his stubble tickling against your tender skin, a yearning desire that he craved every night. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively as you mumbled sweet words into his ear because he deserved it. He deserved to feel special.

And as he couldn't hold it any longer, sinking into you, seed spilling into your pretty pussy, your greedy fingers circled your clit, begging for a release in return.

Edit: Thank you for the reblogs on my last 2 posts! I'm forever grateful to every one of you! I've reached, somehow, 50+ likes!? Insane work, thank you, luvs <3

[pillow-priestess]

It's been so long since you've been held, hasn't it? You put on a tough front every single day, but it's not enough to stop the longing. The yearning. Your body aches for a safe and gentle touch, but it's so hard to find the right time, the right person, something to trust.

No longer. I'm here.

It's okay, sweetheart. You know I couldn't hurt you if I tried. Don't tell yourself you don't need this, you don't have to pretend anymore. I can see the way your shoulders sag, the way you can barely clench your fists, the way you're swaying gently closer.

It's alright. You're safe. Come to me.

That's right… just a few more steps. I won't force you. I don't have to.

You need this. You deserve this. A soft touch, a gentle embrace, words of care and love filling your exhausted little head. You don't need to fight anymore. I won't let anything hurt you ever again. Nice and close now… enough for me to just…

… take you in.

Isn't this nice? Isn't this so much better? You're not even within my plush yet, and this is still the softest embrace you've ever felt. So tight and warm, all around you, keeping you close and comfy and safe, protected from the world that's ground you down.

It's going to be better now. I promise.

You want to go deeper, love? Awh, good… thank you for trusting me. This will be even better.

Just let me press you in, guide you in. Let the stuffing slowly surround you. It's so warm, isn't it? All of that fluff hugging every inch of you, nice and cozy. Easy does it… just sink into me.

All the way in, now… held and hugged from every angle. Floating within me, letting me take care of you, it's all that you need. All you'll ever need. I'll keep you safe, darling.

…awh. You're welcome, love. Helping little things like you is what I exist for.

Just close your eyes, now… You know you're safe here. It's time to rest, to relax, to let all that tension from all those years finally slip away. Sleep in my loving embrace. When you wake, perhaps we can talk about what comes next. I'll happily keep you here always, dearest. But if it appeals, I'd love to give you some of my stuffing, let it fill you for good as a new plushie of my own making, ready for a forever of loving and being loved. It's a dream for so many, and I'm so thankful I can make it a reality.

But that comes later. Right now, you can rest… sleep soft and safe and sound in my perfect embrace… warmth filling you, love surrounding you…

This is exactly what you deserve. Goodnight, little one. 💙

[blank3tsin]

THIGH RIDING  

JUDE BELLINGHAM

THE HOTEL ROOM is dim, the only light spilling from a cracked bathroom door, casting jagged shadows across the plush carpet. The air smells faintly of his cologne—woodsy, sharp, and intoxicating—mixed with the musk of sweat from his earlier match.

Jude lounges on a sleek black armchair in the corner, legs spread wide, his body a masterpiece of taut muscle and coiled power. He's still in his post-game gear: a tight black compression shirt hugging his chest, damp with exertion, and those sinful shorts that cling to his thick thighs like a second skin. His curly hair is a mess, and his lips part as he watches you, eyes dark and predatory.

"Get over here," he says, voice a gravelly rasp that shoots straight to your core.

He slaps his thigh once, hard, the sound echoing in the quiet room, and your cunt clenches instinctively. You're already stripped down to nothing but a thin lace thong and one of his oversized jerseys, the hem brushing your bare thighs as you step closer. The carpet's soft under your feet, but it's the heat radiating off him that makes your skin prickle.

You straddle his thigh without a word, the first contact making you hiss. His quad is rock-hard, warm, and slick with a faint sheen of sweat, and the rough fabric of his shorts drags against the soaked scrap of lace between your legs.

You're dripping already—have been since he walked in, all swagger and testosterone—and the pressure of his muscle against your swollen clit sends a jolt up your spine.

"Fuck," you breathe, and his hands snap to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise.

"Move," he growls, jerking you forward, and you obey, grinding down on him.

The friction is filthy, exquisite—your slickness smears across his thigh, soaking through your thong and onto his skin, and he groans at the sight.

"Look at you, fucken drenched for me." His voice is pure sin, and it spurs you on, hips rolling faster, chasing that raw, aching need.

Your pussy slides against him, the lace chafing just enough to make you whimper, and every flex of his thigh—deliberate, controlled—has you gasping, clit throbbing against the unrelenting hardness.

He shifts, one hand sliding under the jersey to palm your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it's peaked and sensitive. The other hand stays on your hip, guiding you, forcing you to ride him harder.

"That's it, baby, fuck my thigh like you mean it," he mutters, eyes locked on where you're grinding against him, watching your cunt leave a glistening trail on his skin.

Your hands clutch his shoulders, nails biting into him, and he hisses, flexing again just to hear you moan—loud, shameless, echoing off the walls.

Your rhythm falters as the pleasure spikes, sharp and overwhelming.

"Jude—shit, I—" you stammer, but he cuts you off, leaning in to nip at your jaw, stubble scraping your skin.

"Don't stop," he orders, voice thick with lust. "Wanna feel you come all over me."

His thigh tenses beneath you, pushing up against your clit, and you're a mess—panting, trembling, slick dripping down his leg as you ride him with abandon. The coil in your gut tightens, snaps, and you shatter with a cry, gushing wet heat across his thigh, body shaking as he holds you through it, murmuring filthy praise against your ear.

Your orgasm still pulses through you, a hot, shuddering wave that leaves your thighs trembling and your breath ragged, but Jude's not done with you. His thigh's soaked now—your slick coats his skin, glistening in the low light, and the sight of it makes his jaw clench, a low, guttural sound rumbling from his chest.

"Fucken hell," he mutters, eyes raking over you, taking in the way your body quivers, the way your drenched thong clings uselessly to your cunt.

His hands tighten on your hips, fingers bruising, and he drags you back into motion before you can even catch your breath.

"You're not tapping out on me yet," he says, voice rough and edged with hunger.

He flexes his thigh again, deliberate and cruel, pressing it hard against your oversensitive clit, and you yelp, the sensation sharp enough to make your whole body jerk. Your pussy's still throbbing, dripping, and every grind against his slick, muscled leg pulls a wet, obscene sound from between you.

It's filthy��the squelch of your arousal mixing with your gasps—and he eats it up, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, spreading you wider so he can feel every twitch of your cunt against him.

"Jude—fuck, it's too much," you whine, but your hips don't stop, can't stop, chasing that brutal, delicious friction even as it borders on torture.

He smirks, dark and wicked, and shifts beneath you, planting his foot flat on the floor so his thigh angles up, hitting you deeper.

"Too much?" he mocks, voice dripping with fake sympathy. "You're soaking me, baby. You love it."

He's right—you do, and the proof's in the way you're grinding harder, clit dragging against him, slick running down his leg to pool on the chair.

His hand on your ass slips lower, fingers brushing the soaked lace of your thong, and then he's tugging it aside, baring your pussy completely. The cool air hits you for a split second before you're back on his thigh, skin on skin now, and the contact's so raw you nearly scream.

"There we go," he growls, watching your cunt slide against him, lips parted and swollen, leaving a shiny mess.

His thumb finds your clit, circling it once, twice, rough and unrelenting, and you're gone—head thrown back, nails clawing at his shoulders as another climax builds too fast, too hard.

"Gonna come again, huh?" he taunts, pressing his thumb harder, and you can't even answer, just moan, loud and broken, as your hips buck wildly.

He leans in, teeth grazing your neck, then biting down, and that's it—you're shattering again, gushing over his thigh, a hot, wet rush that has him cursing under his breath.

"Fuck, that's it—drench me," he rasps, holding you tight as you shake apart, your slick dripping down his leg, pooling beneath him.

You're a panting, trembling wreck, but he's still hard beneath you, his dick straining against his shorts, and the glint in his eye says he's nowhere near finished.

"Catch your breath," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, "'cause I'm fucking you next."

[astrangerthatlovesyou]

“It’s okay to not be okay”

Unless it impacts your work performance…

Or your grades

Or how you act

Or if it causes you to say no

Or if you’re harder to be around

Or if you need time alone

Or if you talk about it

Or show symptoms

“It’s okay to not be okay”

Unless you have trauma

Unless you have one of those “scary” mental illnesses

Unless it inconveniences me

Unless you’re undiagnosed

Unless you cry or scream or make a scene

Unless you don’t keep that shit to yourself

Unless you make me uncomfortable

Unless I can’t infantilize or fetishize you

Unless you have hallucinations

Unless you have psychosis

Unless you get angry

Unless I think you’re cringe

Unless you can’t preform hygiene tasks

Unless you’re disabled, or trans, or gay, or not white, or fat, or AFAB, or intersex, or a man… so I guess anyone

“It’s okay to not be okay”

As long as nobody ever finds out.

Our society has a severe issue with performative activism, and mental health is a huge example of this. Every time someone considers reaching out, they run through this list mentally. This is why true activists and resources need to be loudly supportive of all the things on this list. Take the subtext out of your support.

[ashinbloom]

Elegy for a Boymoder

"No, no no!" you shout, "I don't need domesticated, Miss Favali! I'm fine!"

"Petal," she speaks slowly, "I need you to put the knife down."

Without even thinking, you wave the knife through the air. "Why? I'm fine. I'm FINE!"

"I don't think you're fine, little one."

"I'm fine!" Your hand trembles around the knife. "I don't need domesticated and I don't need fixed and I don't need you fucking with my head!"

"What do you need, then?"

"I need you to leave me the fuck alone!" You hold the knife out with a shaky hand. She's already seen the scars, she already knows you're a fuck-up.

"I can't do that, petal. Please, let me help you."

"I don't need your goddamn help!"

"Have you taken your ætherea today?"

"I don't need it! It's poison!" You spit your words like the poison that the Affini, that Miss Favali, had tried to make you take. "You just want to fuck with my head so you can domesticate me!"

"Dear, I think you'll feel better if you just--"

"No!"

A tense silence hangs over your hab, the room far too big for you but the perfect size for an affini, and Miss Favali just watches as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"Can you put the knife down for me, petal?"

"No!" you shout, "I need it!"

"Whatever would you need that for, little one?"

"Need it! Gotta stay safe. Can't let you hurt me. Can't let anybody hurt me."

"Sweetie," her voice becomes a bit more stern, "I need you to put the knife down now and be a good girl."

'I'm-- I'm--" Your head swims with those words. 'Put the knife down', 'Be a good girl'. Your chest rises and falls inside your oversized hoodie and the knife falls from your trembling hand with a clatter. You collapse to the ground, muttering over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

You shiver as a shadow grows over you, and by the time you look up Miss Favali is bending down to scoop you into her vines.

"Shh, shh, I know you are, dear. It's okay," she tells you as you feel a gentle pinprick in your arm. You look down to see one of her flowers stuck to your arm.

You feel lighter in an instant, and only feel lighter by the second. You can't even remember why you had the knife, why you're crying. Miss Favali continues to coo softly and pulls you further into her vines as she gently removes your clothes from your body. You can see a light inside of her, singing to you and pulsating as her form writhes in an oddly pleasing way.

Your entire body feels amazing as her vines massages your bare chest and shoulders. You don't feel the usual sting of disgust when somebody touches you for the first time since you can't remember when.

"You don't have to be afraid ever again," she assure you in her melodic, soothing voice even though you don't know what you were even scared of in the first place. "I'll take care of you now."

"You will?" Your voice comes out muffled through the pink flower she has pressed to your face. A soft mist coats your mouth and nose, and when you breathe in it smells like cotton candy bubblegum.

"Now and forever, darling. Now, take a deep breath. Growing girls like you need their Class-Gs."

[bleedingichorhearts]

Hi, can I request some Sanguinius x reader smut where reader have her period and let Sanguinius help her but she was so delicious that the Great Angel overstimulated her almost to the unconscious state

“Ough, the best vampire of that universe. He shall get his meal, and you? Some well deserved rest.” - Ichor

TW // Smut, Oral, Period, Hint of Breeding.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

Whines leave your mouth as you grasp the Great Angel below you that was eating you out. Your hands tugging a bit harshly on his glorious hair that felt like silk between your shaking fingers and legs: body quaking in merciless overstimulation. Eyes unfocused, but stuck on the scene this Angel was putting you through.

His face was painted with your blood. Smeared across his soft cheeks and would be dripping down his chin if he didn’t lick it all up. You would have been disgusted, mostly in yourself for even allowing such a… messy session, but you couldn’t exactly deny your lovers hunger in his eyes. To see that flicker of something primal within them, and to feel on cloud 9 after he would pull you back down on his mouth for a more generous taste. His hands wrapping around your thighs and backside with ease, and pulling you right back into his mouth.

“S-Sanguinius!” You moan out his name for the first 100th time tonight, or you swear it was morning? Either way, he was eating you out for a long time. So long that you were losing your own breath, and couldn’t even feel your legs anymore. “Sanguinius, please.”

You’re not sure what had made him to become so… feral: eyes wandering quickly, tongue licking his teeth… Not that you were complaining too much, but… you don’t exactly have the physique of a damn Primarch; A vampire one especially. Your body was out of commission at around… what was it? 10-15 climax’s? You don’t remember, but you know it beats your original record. That would be nowhere near an Primarchs’ record.

“Stay Still.” His words sounds like he’s growling at you. Hands squeezing into the shivering flesh of your thighs. His eyes looking up at you, watching you with a certain, ravenous gleam that makes your spine shiver instead. The nerves in your body prickling with arousal and numbness. “Don’t want me to go hungry now, would you?”

Fuck, you certainly would if this is how he would express this hunger to you. You would want him to go hungry so he could have his fill of you and only you. To feel this primality again. Well, maybe when you can handle the Primarch and all of his glory, but that is hard given he keeps having to confine with planets that were lightyears away, and that he definitely is much more powerful than you in all aspects. Though, you suppose it’s a nice, filling stretch once you find yourself underneath him.

“Oh, but if you have all of me. You would have nothing left to savor.” You counter his words, feeling how your sensitive skin twitches. Groaning softly when he rolls his tongue once more inside of you before backing off to nuzzle against your thighs. Unable to feel the slick of juices, saliva and blood he had consumed and painted you with.

“Hmm, there is truth to your words.” He hums, kissing your left thigh. His fangs brushing over the buzzing flesh. “Can I not greed for the being that gives themselves so freely?”

“That’s not what I-” You sigh, trying to calm yourself as this seemed like that only time he would pause himself. “I greed for you just as you greed for me. Besides, if you kept eating me out. I would probably won’t have another weekly month to indulge you with, and I might pass out as I am… smaller than you.”

He seems to perk up at your words for a moment, mulling them over. His mouth opening as his tongue goes over his fangs like a canine. “You’re exquisite, love. Yet, I have another idea to keep your monthly troubles away.”

“Oh?” You breathe, raising up your head to look down at the Great Angel with an arched eyebrow. His own body crawling up to put you in his shadow as his hair becomes a curtain. Your legs wide for the Primarch to fit between them. His lips turning up into a smile before he descends upon you. Kissing you softly for a man that hungers for things unnatural.

“Though, do not mistake my hunger for you. That, is eternal.”

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666.” - Tagged

[pedro-my-love]

here's a headcanon for ya,,,

Din loves holding your hand.

He prefers it with no gloves, often in private, that's what he does. He loves the feeling of skin on skin with you. And he can't really get it in any other way, so he loves holding your hand.

I'm talking fingers intertwined, firmly holding your hand. He just does it, passively, without thinking sometimes. And other times, he does it thoughtfully.

It's not only a walking thing, it's a "in the cockpit of the Crest" thing. It's short and sweet where he squeezes your hand once. (You kinda feel like if he didn't have his helmet on he'd give you a quick kiss somewhere instead.)

Before you were together, or maybe even in the earlier stages, he didn’t fully hold your hand.

But he still liked to touch you in some way.

When walking, he was always barely pressing a hand on the small of your back.

When in danger, he's got a strong grip on your arm. Firm and protective.

But one of the first times that need for just simple affection was there, you'd both been standing beside each other and he had simply extended a gloved pinky.

He didn’t intertwine them, just a touch, a simple touch. You weren't sure if it was him reassuring himself you were there, or maybe just some affection he couldn't act on, but it started there, in a simple graze of leather against skin.

After that, and you not flinching away from the touch, it was circling his hand around your wrist. He'd tap along your inner wrist, almost as if he was tracking your pulse. A reminder you were standing right beside him (when he had lost so much, he was so afraid of losing you).

And then, it was his hand intertwining with yours.

When the two of you were confessing your feelings (where are my slowburn girlies at?), he'd grabbed your hands in his, brushing his gloved fingers along your knuckles. Reverently. (And he would do the same thing when you recited the Mandalorian wedding vows, just a btw.)

Anyway...

[leighsartworks216]

You Hate Me

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Sooooo I wrote this one morning when even just laying down had my knees hurting and I was like,, well what if Tav had that too? Also inspired by the fact I get to campus an hour early and still try to rush to the (empty) classroom instead of, ya know, taking advantage of the huge time buffer I give myself

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of joint pain, insecurity, crying, possibly OOC, clown mention

Word Count: 1,545

Masterlist

AO3

Just a bit further. A little further and then you could rest. If you make it to that tree - make it to that tree and you can sit down. Just a bit left to go.

It started almost a week ago. Unable to cope with all the traveling, your right knee started bothering you. With every step you could feel your kneecap shifting back and forth with a dull click. Then, it started to hurt. Nothing serious. If you walked slow enough, you could avoid it. But now every step sent shocks of pain up your entire leg. Your left knee joined the party this morning, removing any sense of relief you had while walking. Even sitting down didn't remove the pain, but you couldn't afford a day off.

Your companions noticed the changes, despite your best effort not to show any outward discomfort. You moved slower, the occasional grimace slipped through, they weren't traveling quite as far. You consider asking Shadowheart for anything that could ease the pain, but you already knew there was little she could do to help. So you grit your teeth and kept going.

Your foot stepped on uneven ground and you nearly dropped from the agony that shot through your whole body. Karlach worried you might actually just collapse. But you kept going.

Astarion couldn't bear it. None of them could - they hated seeing their intrepid leader fight their own body just to go a few more feet - but your struggle settled like a boulder in his stomach. Every time your face scrunched up, every hiss of your sharp inhales, felt like someone had stabbed a knife in his chest and was twisting it ever deeper. He hated the feeling.

With only a few long strides, he slipped from the back of the group to the front, walking alongside you. He had to change his normal gait just so he didn't surpass you. "Darling," he hummed quietly, just loud enough to keep the conversation between you two, "you should rest."

You shook your head. You didn't even spare him a glance. Your eyes didn't shift from the tree. "We're almost there," you dismiss. It's slightly breathless. Despite needing to walk slow to avoid the pain, you were pushing to go faster.

He tsked. "And how far do we still have left to go?" He tilted his head as he looked at you, already knowing whatever distance you said would be too far.

You nodded to a tree dead ahead. "Once we reach that birch, we can rest."

"That birch?" He pointed. "The birch tree that's nearly half a mile away?"

He could feel you bristle with his incredulous tone, but you didn't say anything.

He scoffed. "My dear, I can be stubborn at the best of times, but this is ridiculous! You're barely staying upright as it is."

"I'm fine-"

"No, you're not," he sharply cuts you off. He grabs your arm and pulls you to a stop, holding you there with enough force that you wouldn't slip out and keep going. You refuse to look at him even now. "You're wincing, your hands have been clenched for the last mile, and you keep stumbling. The tree will still be there if you just sit down for a minute."

The rest of the party watches from a distance. Far enough away they can just make out what Astarion's saying, especially as his voice rises in pitch the more frustrated he gets.

Standing still hurts. It's hard to say if it hurts more or less than walking; it just hurts. Your face is pinched as sharp jolts run up through your joints, like someone is poking you with a sewing needle. Walking, you decide, must be better than this.

"It's not that far," you insist, voice low. "And when we get there, we can-"

"Gods above, you're impossible! Fine. Fine! You want to get to that tree, fine." He lets go of your arm.

Before you can even take a step, he's sweeping you into his arms, supporting you with one arm under your back and the other hooked under your knees. The pressure hurts for a moment, but it quickly fades away. The lingering aches are from pushing yourself too hard. He begins marching once more toward your end goal.

You want to shout, to demand he put you down. But when you look up at his face, his eyes are sharper than usual, lips pulled into a tight frown and crease forming between his eyebrows. He's angry.

He's angry with you.

The words die in your throat. You hate being so dependent. You were the leader - you needed to be strong and fearless and without weakness. To receive help feels like someone plunging their hand between your ribs and stealing away a chunk of your worth. But seeing Astarion upset, upset with you, that stings far worse.

You avoid looking over his shoulder. You could just imagine their faces. How Lae'zel would scowl at you for being weak. How Gale's face would turn somber when he realizes you're not as capable as he thought. You couldn't bear it. So you press your forehead to Astarion's neck and stare at your lap.

There's an unwelcome burn at the back of your eyes. Shame floods your chest and crawls up your throat until it chokes you. Water pools along your lower lids and blurs your vision. You can't walk and now you're going to cry. Just how fucking pathetic can you be?

Astarion's head shifts and you can tell he's trying to look down at you. He's trying to see your face. Because he can feel you shaking in his arms. He can hear your lungs quivering as your breaths become uneven and choppy. You press your closed eyes against his throat and he can feel the hot tears against his skin.

His frown softens, though you can't see it. He slows down to a stop and tells the others to go on ahead, to the birch tree just there, and start working on setting up camp, but all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. Their faces become fraught with worry; Karlach is the last to go. She still looks back once or twice. Astarion finds a suitable rock and he sits.

"Shh, sweet thing," he cooes, voice no louder than a whisper. His arm around your back pulls you into his shoulder, hand tangling in your hair as he cradles you. His other hand rubs soothing circles along your thigh. You gasp around a sob, body curling further into itself, into him, as you release your emotions. "It's alright."

You strangle out an apology. It's wet and croaky and painful.

"Whatever for?" he asks.

"You're mad at me," you whimper.

He huffs. The frustration from before rises in him again just thinking about it. "Yes, I am."

He feels your breath catch in your throat, and the heaving breath you take after. "You hate me."

Astarion laughs, short and sharp. "Why would I hate you, dear? Because you're too stubborn for your own good?" You don't have a response for him. He kisses your head, wherever he can reach. "I'm mad because you put yourself out trying to solve all of our issues, but the moment you have one of your own, you refuse any help. You're going to tear yourself apart."

He sighs and rests his cheek atop your head. His fingers rub the nape of your neck, gently tugging at the hair there. You carry so much tension, it's a wonder your muscles haven't locked up from the stress.

Time passes slowly in his arms. It seems to take forever before you start to calm down, and even longer before your eyes have dried. He does nothing to speed the process aside from gently hush you when you try to choke out apologies.

You sniffle quietly. Your eyes are raw, and you're all too aware of the stain of water you've left on the vampire's neck. When you speak, it's a painful creak in your vocal chords. "You don't hate me?"

He presses another kiss to your head. "No, love, I don't hate you. Not unless you've done something truly horrific, like invite a clown to show up at camp in the middle of the night." You chuckle weakly. It's such sweet music. "Gods forbid you start donating to charity." You laugh this time, and Astarion's chuckle vibrates against your ear.

His fingers detangle themselves from your hair with one last gentle tug, and his arm wraps around your back once more. As though you weigh no more than one of his pillows, he stands once more with you in his safe grasp, and begins heading for camp. He can see Karlach up ahead light up when she sees you're finally on your way.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I just feel so... useless, like this."

"Please, stop apologizing," he begs, dramatically. "Just say 'thank you' and we can move on."

You peel your face from his skin, dried tears sticking you together. You wince at how disgusting this must be for him. You lean up and kiss his cheek. He smiles at the affection. "Thank you."

Softer, he says, "Of course, my love."

[ladyymiisa]

RISE AND SHINE!

summary: mornings with shouta might be a challenge, but you still love him unconditionally, even when he's being a total pain.

tags: aizawa shouta x fem!reader, fluff, shouta is an insufferable little shit in this so i’m sorry if it seems a bit ooc

author’s note: misa writing about someone who’s not hawks? absolutely crazy. anyway, eat up my children!! (i wish he would eat me instead)

mornings with shouta can go one of two ways:

1. you wake up first, only to be sweetly persuaded into remaining in bed with him for another hour or so. this usually happens on the weekends.

2. you wake up first and are confronted with the formidable task of ensuring that your boyfriend gets out of bed on time to attend to his responsibilities as both a pro hero and a teacher.

today happens to be the second scenario.

“come on, shouta,” you urge, attempting to pull the blanket from his body, only to succeed in moving it a mere millimeter from his grasp. even freshly awake, his grip remains unyielding—a trait whose logic you’ll never quite comprehend.

with a sigh of frustration, you give the blanket another tug, this time applying more force. “your alarm has rung three times already. how much longer do you intend to lounge around?” you ask, your annoyance evident.

shouta remains silent and you find yourself sighing once again.

this won’t do. he should have been out the door by now, and you’re pretty sure nezu will give him another reprimand for being late once again. there’s only so much he’ll let slide.

with your lips pressed together, you silently watch shouta. you observe the steady rise and fall of his chest as he dozes off peacefully, without a care in the world. a few unruly strands of hair have fallen across his eyes, partially obscuring his face from view. perfect.

it's time to resort to plan b.

with your plan set in motion, you roll your shoulders, savoring the satisfying pops of your joints, then position yourself, ready for action. without an ounce of hesitation, you allow your body to collapse onto his like a ragdoll, face landing straight against his bare chest. this action finally elicits a response from shouta.

he grunts in disapproval, partly due to the unexpected impact of your body landing atop his own without warning, but makes no effort to push you away. instead, he remains there, defeated and motionless.

"get off." he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"only if you get up." you retort.

you feel the low rumble in his chest as he grumbles once more. a few seconds of silence pass, and just as you begin to think you might have won, his arms unexpectedly wrap around you, securing you in place.

this prompts you to gasp in offence and struggle against his grip, but your efforts are in vain. shouta has no intention of letting you go so easily, not when the warmth of your body nearly lulls him back into slumber. you let out a whine, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

the fucking bastard is smirking triumphantly.

with a resigned sigh, you allow your head to fall against his chest once more. something tells you that shouta won’t be the only one getting an earful from nezu today.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Can you do a part 2 to the Concerning Portal?

I love your work ♥️

Kabr0z Writes episode 72: Concerning Portals part 2

Also entitled: Job Interview

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Find episode 8: Concerning Portals here!

CWs: Dubcon; interspecies; public sex; portals; creampie; tentacles; oral sex; Noncon;

A/N: The biggest question is why, after being railed and free-used by an indeterminate number of massive flared cocks, why would she put on the panties again?

I was gonna have the reader be in a job interview and gradually losing control, but that's a heap of dialogue that doesn't super work in second person

#########################################

A good pair of knickers is hard to find. So when you get a pair that really, properly fits, you aren't going to ge trid of them because you were wearing them that time a mysterious portal decided to open itself in your pants. Besides, your job interview is this afternoon, and you need your lucky undies on your side today of all days.

You took the train. Hopefully you're able to land the job, then you'll be making enough to actually get a driving license. As it was, you spent far too much on a train ticket into the city and still didn't manage to get a seat, holding on to one of the bars rising from floor to ceiling to brace against the movement of the carriage. Your phone buzzed, an email came through from the hiring manager. You hadn't heard of the company, Creadle and Crabnuts Innovations, but when they reached out to you offering twice your salary for the same job, you'd be a fool to not hear them out at least. The email was just a confirmation of the appointment, with a link to an interview package to leaf through. Not what you'd call standard, but you had half an hour to kill before your station. At least the train was non-stop, so it's not getting any busier.

Your thumb brushed the touchscreen, following the link. You were expecting some cheesy corporate webpage or maybe some generic grounding exercises. Instead, the link just contained a picture of your front door, a hand pushing a familiar package through the letterbox, and the words "Welcome to your interview"

The gusset of your knickers heated up. You flashed back to the bus, craning your neck to see where the bathroom was on your carriage. The indicator confirmed your fear: occupied. A screen showed all the bathrooms on the train, each one occupied in turn. Something wet slid across your cunt.

You started to move, pushing your way past commuters jammed in the aisle of the carriage, none of them giving you space to move. The wet thing was sliding across you, probing your holes for purchase. You reached the front of the carriage, hammering the "open" button on the door that would get you to the front alcove, and relative privacy.

It didn't respond. A thin tendril probed your clitoral hood, pushing under it to nestle next to the fleshy nub of your clit. It was cold, the low temperature sending an aching needle through your abdomen. It moved, slightly at first, then with growing speed and vigour. The tendril fucked the fold of skin over your most sensitive place. Aggressively thrusts and rubbing. Cold slime oozed. The consistency of vaseline. It slopped around your cunt. Another tendril joined. This went for your pussy. A third for your asshole. Cold lube covered you. Your legs hurt. You couldn't stand. An armrest stopped your fall. Clinging on with both hands. Doubled over.

Your face was in a man's lap. You panted there. The man looked down at you, clinging to his armrest, panting and whining. Your back arching and your ass held up. He looked around before opening his fly. He fumbled out his cock, thick and uncircumcised.

A tendril invaded your ass. You gasped as it slipped inside, pushing you forward an inch. The man in the seat took that as an approval. His fingers clutched the back of your hair, maneuvering you around to kneel, legs under the seat in front. The man next to him dozed against the window, dead to the world. His cock rubbed over your face as the third tendril rubbed your pussy, aiming for the last unviolated hole.

A sucker planted itself on your clit, pulling on it as the first one still tried to find an opening in the skin at the top of your vulva. You moaned, a wave of pleasure joining a sharp pain as your unprepared body was subjected to such attention.

The cock went straight to your throat. The tip of his foreskin tickled your tonsils as your throat tightened against him, trying to gag. His fist tightened, gripping your hair close to the scalp as his hips gyrated into your face. Hand and hips, working in perfect tandem to fuck your face while three tentacles abused your cunt.

It was just too much. Your hips rolled as muffled moans flowed from you. Your hands moved unbidden, one clutching the man's unshaven balls, rolling them between your fingers as the other wrapped around the base of his cock, jacking him off into your mouth. The muscles in your lower abdomen flexed and worked as one, milking the tentacles inside you. You felt them spill their cold payload into you, spraying and squirting even as you tried in vain to hump and grind against them.

The two in your holes withdrew, the third was leaking that cold fluid over your clit and down your legs. Another two took the well-prepared place of them as the man groaned and held you down, spurting his spunk down your throat.

Your heart sank, he finished so deep in your throat you didn't even get to taste it. You pulled his cock out of your mouth and started licking it, paying special attention to the head. A few drops of precious cum still seeped out, bitter and metallic.

The best thing you've ever tasted.

The new tentacles went deeper. You could feel the one in your ass worming its way through you, distending your belly as it found its way up you.

Your hand left the man's cock, slipping down tot under your panties. The tentacles were coming from who-knows where, but that's not what you cared about.

Your questing fingers found the tentacle on your clit, rubbing at it, feeling it squeezing out the cold cum as it pulsed and shook on you. Two more orgasms washed over you as the tentacle outperformed any vibrator you'd ever used, sucking and shaking, making you squeak and squirm, voice muffled by the spent cock in your mouth.

You felt the train slowing. The tentacles receded and the portal closed. You gave the man a small kiss on the cheek as you made for the door.

You got off, and collapsed into a chair on the platform. Your phone buzzed again.

"Congratulations on passing your interview with Creadle and Crabnuts Innovations. We will be in touch."

What kind of job did you just get?

#########################################

Does it show when I'm writing about something that's 1000% my kink? Does it suck that portal fucking isn't really a thing that can ever exist?

Both of the answers to these questions are "yes"

[fanfics-for-you]

what's in a name? || Patrick Verona (TTIHAY) x gn!reader (Modern!College!AU)

AVAILABLE ON AO3 (SOON)

Inspiration: ✨️Patrick Verona✨️

Summary: Patrick Verona is apparently the most intimidating guy on campus. You just want to get by, pass your classes, and get to your actual dreams. When you casually approach him one day and decidedly are not scared of him, Patrick has some questions.

TWs: light language, use of Y/N (only like twice), second person POV (you, yours).

[[A/N: This is basically under the concept that you approach Patrick first, and aren't really as afraid of him as anybody else. He's intrigued. Also this is a college AU, because I am in college and I think it's weird to write about high school lmao. ALSO,,, I know this is incredibly niche and a dead tag, but... I watched the movie recently and was violently possessed to write this. The parasites in me what to continue this universe, but idk. Anyway. Enjoy :)]]

You were exhausted. Totally and completely exhausted.

You'd stayed up all night for your chem quiz, and still, didn't think you did great on it. Which made your day ever so worse. So, when you went to the library, and someone was sitting in the spot you always sat in, you halfway wanted to cry and halfway wanted to rip your hair out. Normally, such a thing wouldn't be a big deal, but today it was. So, with a certainty that rivaled a lawyer in court, you stomped over to the chair.

For a moment, the guy didn't even look at you. He kept staring at his friend, a surprisingly 'metal' dressing guy who was talking avidly about something.

You cleared your throat.

That's when they both looked at you.

You were entirely focused on the one in your seat. A taller guy with built shoulders, curly hair and a sharp jaw. In normal circumstances, you'd probably think he was hot. Today was not normal circumstances.

The man raised an eyebrow.

Okay, so maybe it was a little normal circumstances, but that wasn't relevant.

"What are you doing?"

The man answered, simply -maybe a little confused, "Sitting?"

"That's my spot," you clarified, pointedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" the man pretended to start getting up before pausing -speaking sarcastically, "-Oh wait, I've just remembered, this is public property."

Mindlessly noting that he had an accent that you couldn't quite place, you rolled your eyes, "I sit there everyday. Just give me the spot."

"You weren't sitting here all day," he pointed out, "-or else I wouldn't be here."

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, "I was busy failing a chem test, now get up."

His eyes skimmed over your face, thoughtfully, "Do you know who I am?"

"Why-" you sighed out, frustrated, "-would I know who you are?"

Even despite the comment, he did seem familiar somehow but you weren't going to tell him that.

He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, and didn't say anything. You felt like you were going to explode in fiery flames.

You groaned, "Oh my god. There are thousands of seats on campus, just go sit somewhere else."

"Exactly," the man countered, "-why don't you sit somewhere else?"

"Because-" you huffed out a breath, "-that's my spot."

"And why is this spot so important to you?" He shuffled slightly, moving his hands along the cracks of the seat, "-You got something good stashed in 'ere?"

"Dear god," you huffed out a breath in defeat, "-Whatever. Enjoy your seat, asshole."

And with that, you spun on your heel and pulled yourself deeper into the library. Taking a breath in, you pulled yourself into a seat not too far from the original, but you were around the corner so you wouldn't have to look at his stupid face. You soured just at the thought.

You pulled open your chem book, and read through it -trying to figure out which ones you definitely missed, that way you could get the ballpark for what your grade might be. You really needed to know, to make sure your GPA stayed in the range for your dream university.

But, in the middle of it, you heard someone plop into the chair in front of you (it was a group of chairs, like for a group of people if necessary).

Before looking up, you spoke -sharply, "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Your eyes shot up at that familiar accent, and you frowned.

"You got the seat," you pointed out, bitterly, "-What the hell do you want now?"

"Your name," he answered simply.

You blinked, (what?) before settling back into your seat and flipping to the next page, "Yeah, no."

The man seemed to move forward, and unwillingly your eyes flickered to him (his curls moving with the motion), "Why not?"

"I don't give my name out to strangers," you retorted -flicking your eyes down to your book, "-especially not assholes."

"Don't know if I can change who I am," he smirked, "-but, I can work on the stranger part."

You frowned, eyeing him particularly, "Seriously, what do you want?"

"I already told you," he replied, fidgeting with something in his hands (you weren't paying attention), "-I'm Patrick, by the way."

"Well," you exhaled, sharply, and ignored his name, "-you're not getting it."

"Well," he repeated with the same sort of grin, "-I'll just have to work on that too, then."

You looked up at him again and squinted at him -trying to read him somehow. All he did was grin at you, a charming kind, of course, that made crinkles on his cheeks. You ignored the flutter in your chest that it gave you and darted your eyes back down to your book.

The next day, you were in better spirits. After studying for an entirely different class, you were pretty sure you aced that test. So, you weren't as pissed, thankfully. Until you went into the library to sit between classes like you always did.

You paused in your step and frowned.

The guy (Patrick, your mind treacherously noted) was sitting by your chair, mindlessly tapping his fingers along the arm of the chair. He wasn't in your chair, thankfully, but still, he was in the one beside it. Pointedly close.

You huffed out a breath, and moved toward the chairs, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," he repeated.

You raised an eyebrow.

He seemed to take that as a repeat of the question -before saying, confidently (too confidently), "I'm studying for a test."

"You don't seem like the studying type," you retorted, throwing yourself into the chair and pulling out your laptop -realizing it was no use to try and get him to leave.

Patrick pointed out, "You don't even know me."

"And I don't intend to," you replied with ease, flicking your eyes to meet his, "-your point?"

He grinned the same bright one from before, amused maybe. Your heart skipped a beat, so you dropped your eyes back down to your laptop. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to look away.

"What's your major?" He asked, thoughtfully.

"I won't tell you my name," you leveled, scrolling through your online schedule for homework, "-but you think I'll tell you my major?"

"Well," he reasoned, "-a name is much more identifiable, but your major," he shrugged, "-not so much."

You eyed him again for a second, before saying, "What if you just want to look up my classes and hunt me down?"

Patrick smiled again, before asking, "What is your next class?"

"Why?" You ask, pointedly, "-So you can force me into talking to you again?"

"Preferably," he replied, grinning cheekily.

You raised an eyebrow, and bit your lip to pull down a smile that begged to quirk up, "I'm not telling you that either."

"What if I just follow you when you leave?" He questioned, curiously, "-Figure it out myself?"

"And what if I-" you smiled at him -patronizingly, "-call the campus police?"

He raised both eyebrows as if to say 'touché' without saying it out loud. You bit down another smile and moved back to your computer -pulling out your planner and jotting down dates.

"Your pissiness," he suddenly spoke, "-Are you often filled with boiling hatred?"

"No," you sigh out, before shooting him another patronizing smile, "-that's special just for you."

He laughed then, and something warm zinged down to your toes (you ignored it), "Do you seriously not know me?"

"Do you know how many Patricks exist in the world?" you point out, "-No, I don't know you."

"So you do remember my name," he smirked, patting along his lap with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but didn't say a word.

It ended up like that for the rest of the time, Patrick shooting questions now and then, and you shutting them down. His stupid smirk and low, rumbly, accented voice, you hated that he actually seemed kinda nice -all things considered.

But, as you stood up to leave, you decided on something.

"Literature," you said simply, gathering up everything into your bag.

He paused, shooting up his eyebrows, "What?"

"My next class," you answered, nonchalantly pulling your bag onto your shoulder, "-Intro to Literature."

Patrick grinned, bright and shiny, "Gen Ed?"

"Yeah," you answered, moving to put the last few things in your bag.

"Can I walk you?"

Your eyes snapped to him then, curiously -detailing the rather honest look, before answering solidly, "No."

He burst into laughter then, throwing his head back against the chair -you mindlessly watched his curls fall back with the motion and then snapped your eyes away.

"Same time tomorrow then?" He asked, still laughing a little bit (something in you twinkled).

"Nope," you exhale a breath, ignoring the disappointment that swirled into your chest, "-I'm not on campus tomorrow."

He seemed to falter for a second, "Do you live on campus?"

You raised a solid eyebrow, you really think I'd tell you that?

"Right, yeah, okay," Patrick conceded, holding up his hands in faux surrender, "-What days are you on campus?"

You paused, pressing your lips together, but something in you did it, "Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays."

He grinned a little brighter, "Are you here around the same time on Mondays?"

Something in your chest flipped, but even still, you answered, "That's what you have to figure out. Not me."

And then, you spun on your heel and walked out of the library. His laughter trailed out behind you, and if you had a small little smile on your face at the noise, that was only for you to know.

Monday came, and you woke up early and made your way to campus -the first class of the day was at the crack of dawn. You physically despised it, but so is the schedule of a college student. Plus, you still worked, so the earlier the better for your schedule -didn't mean it didn't suck though.

Sipping on your drink, you wandered back toward the cafeteria -crossing the main connecting area, where everything led to. There was a baseball game going on, not an official one by the looks of it, in the grass. Your eyes hinged on the game for a few seconds, the echoes of laughter shooting toward your ears. It looked fun, but you weren't too invested in being outside for that long. Before you could look away though, your eyes caught on a familiar frame.

Patrick.

His hair was tied back, and he was wearing a pretty bland tank top (just grey), with some typical jeans. With his hair pulled back, you could see his jaw more distinctively -the sharp lines clear from even this far away. (Not that you were looking.) The sun bore down on them but all of the players seemed to be happily distracted. And you kinda were too.

You pursed your lips, for a moment, and looked forward again after a breath, heading toward the cafeteria again confidently.

Before you could get very far, though, you heard a familiar accent.

"Hey!" He yelled, a little distant -footsteps following his voice, "-Hey!"

At first, you weren't sure if he was talking to you, so you kept moving.

"Shit, I don't know what to call you," he called out, breathless and much, much closer.

You spun on your heels with furrowed brows, and met his eyes over a few people's heads. The grin that swallowed his face whole should've been criminal, bright and twinkly and... charming.

Before you could say anything, he was by your side with heavy breaths -assumedly from playing baseball and getting over to you. Leaning over slightly, he leveled out heavy breaths. You were almost concerned enough to offer him water, but he seemed to settle himself before you could.

"Hi," he echoed, "-'Ve been looking for you all morning, what time did you get here?"

You blinked, all morning?

"I get here early, 7, and immediately go to class," you answered, a little blankly (looking for you, looking for you, looking for you).

"Oh," he paused, "-I got here at 8. There's classes at 7?"

"Obviously," you respond, because you did in fact just say it.

"Did you-" Patrick started, before pursing his lips together, "-Are you going to the library now?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "No, I'm going to the cafeteria to eat between classes. Why?"

"I'm actually quite hungry myself," he avoided the question, "-Do you mind if I tag along?"

"What about your game?" You furrowed your eyebrows even further -eyeing him curiously.

"'S just to fill time," he explained, "-It's nothing serious. They're sure to find someone to fill in for me."

You flicker your eyes along his face, trying to read him. What's your prerogative?

After a moment, you come up with nothing and instead, just turn on your heel -leading the way to the cafeteria.

"I'm taking that as a yes, then?" Patrick called out from behind you, catching up and matching your stride with ease (despite you making no move to slow down).

You decidedly don't answer him, and say something focused elsewhere -eyeing him as you walk forward, "Do you always stalk people this much?"

Patrick laughed, catching your eye with his warm brown ones (they were almost sparkly under the sun of the day), "Only the ones that blindly hate me."

You pressed your lips together in a flat line (trying not to give anything away), "I didn't say that I hated you."

His face lit up at the words (and you couldn't decide if you regretted it or not), "Well, you could've convinced me."

You roll your eyes, and keep walking forward, "Not telling you my personal information isn't... hating you."

"I'm not sure not introducing yourself is exactly anything but hatred," he argued back, fluidly.

"I just told you that I don't hate you," you point out, "-so it isn't."

"Does that mean you'll eventually tell me your name?" Patrick asked, curiously.

You turned to him, flicked your eyes over him, and then looked forward again, "Maybe on good behavior."

He burst into laughter, brown eyes set on your face, "You're quite an enigma, you know that?"

"And you're not half the mystery you portray," you fire back, naturally, with the flow of the conversation.

He grinned at that, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite label, "You know, I don't think I've met a person like you. You're fearless in like a-" he motioned with his hands, "-casual way."

"I'm not fearless," you argue, approaching the door to the cafeteria, "-I'm just confident."

"Do they not go hand-in-hand?" Patrick offers, getting to the door before you and promptly holding it open for you -unflinchingly.

Something warm stirs in your stomach at the gesture (and his woodsy scent that brushes your nose as you walk past him), but you ignore it, "You can be certain and still be afraid."

"But knowing you're right doesn't necessarily mean-" Patrick followed you in, matching your stride again, as if it's natural, "-that you're confident."

You furrow your eyebrows, genuinely intrigued, "What do you mean?"

He paused, maybe a little shocked by your attentiveness, "Plenty of people know they're right and still concede to someone else because they don't want to fight it. You-" he pointed at you, "-will fight it."

"Well," you purse your lips, avoiding his eye contact, "-maybe I'm only like this with you."

"You," Patrick paused, "-You're not this fiery ball of rage with anyone else?"

You eye him for a second, before saying flatly, "Maybe."

"All of this seething hatred and impressive indifference just for me?" He grins, the big teeth-showing kind, "-I'm touched really. Because I am special to you in some weird kinda twisted way-"

Before you can stop yourself, you let out a laugh at his words -just a quick one. Barely there.

But you could still see the delight smooth along his face, and just knew he caught it.

"How much of that have you been holding back?" He tilted his head curiously, before continuing to push it, smirking, "-Oh I bet you think I'm hilarious."

Your heart skipped a beat at the smirk, and you simply pressed your lips together and turned on your heel to the food counter. There wasn't even a second before you heard footsteps following you.

"You're not denying it, you know," he called after you, close on your tail.

You peer over the selection of food, eyeing the different items thoughtfully, "But I didn't confirm it either."

"Still not denying it," Patrick hummed, sing-songy.

"You know," you turn to him (mindlessly noting that he is very close), sharply, "-someone can have one good joke and still be unfunny."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes set on yours -challenging, "Then tell me why it came out like you were holding it back?"

You blinked at him, once and then twice, the sudden closeness sent a shock through your brain and the challenging tone of his voice nearly gave you full-body shivers. You can't find words to say, and you can nearly see it processing on Patrick's face (the way that he had made your mind melt for a moment), so you turn to the counter and point at something random for them to pick out for you.

The woman eyes the two of you suspiciously, but still diligently pulls out a to-go plate and piles the... mashed potatoes onto it.

"Oh my god," he finally says after a moment (you ignore it).

You go through a few other items, and the woman gathers them onto the plate. You pay, grab your plate-

"You like me," Patrick retorts, and you're not even looking at him but you can tell he's got a shit-eating grin.

Your brain malfunctions for a moment, but you step toward the tables and fire back (on autopilot), "I won't even tell you my name."

He's hot on your trail, following you diligently, "You're avoiding the question."

You spin to him, and reply -sharply, "You didn't ask a question."

His eyes flicker along your face, taking you in (you want to squirm but you steel yourself in place -your eyes now challenging), and then he grins so bright that you'd need sunglasses in any other scenario.

"Oh, you're really into me," he continues, low, gravelly, accented voice rumbling through your ears.

You screw up your face into something defiant, roll your eyes, and turn back to slide into a table. Patrick follows you like a lost puppy. Well, an incredibly arrogant lost puppy.

"You're still not denying it," he slides into the chair beside you and you hate the way your brain swims at the woodsy smell that brushes your nose.

"'Thought you were hungry," you say, simply (avoiding the question and decidedly not denying).

"It was very obviously a ploy," Patrick chimed back, with natural ease -tilting his head slightly and looking at you with twinkling eyes, "-They had pizza out there for all the players. I've already eaten."

Your fork froze for a millisecond (even still, you were sure he caught it), and after a moment, you pulled it to your lips. Maybe conquering both of your lack of response and the way your mind lit up at the idea of 'he just wanted to see me'.

His smile and eyes seemed to soften slightly, as he leaned his head down to catch your eye and guide it back up to your natural gaze (your heart skipped a beat). His brown eyes were soft and if you were honest, maybe a little affectionate.

"What's your name?" He finally said after a soft few moments.

And just like that, for you, the moment snapped, and you rolled your eyes -turning back to your food.

"Oh, come on," Patrick tried to catch your gaze again, "-Look, I'll tell you. Patrick Verona. That's my name-"

You bit down a smile, as he motioned to you with his hands.

"-Now, your turn, tell me yours."

You raised an eyebrow.

Patrick let out a half-laugh, before leaning forward slightly on the table -not quite a breath away, but certainly closer.

"You're so stubborn," he laughed, "-I'll beg. You want me to beg?"

You can't help but let the smile slip onto your lips then, "Why would you beg for my name?"

"Because I want it," he pointed out, still grinning "-Because I want to know you, and personally, I think it should start with a name."

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you let your fork hang there on the path to your face. You took a moment, scampered your eyes along his face (dark brown eyes so incredibly soft, curls coming down from where he put them up in individual tendrils). Your resolve was weakening, it was really and truly broken under Patrick Verona's hand.

Stupid pretty boys-

"Y/N," you said finally (quieter than intended), immediately pulling a bite to your mouth.

Patrick blinked, "What?"

"'S my name," you explain -shortly, moving a hand in front of your mouth as you chew, "-Y/N."

His eyes lit up at the words, that stupid charming grin smoothing onto his face as he repeated, softer than expected, "Y/N."

You shove down the fluster that begs to climb up your cheeks at his accented voice saying your name. It's something you'd never really thought about but now that it's said, you probably should've thought about it.

Patrick leaned back in his chair, eyes still set on you. He was still grinning, as he said simply, "Suits you."

You furrow your eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He raises his hands in faux surrender, laughing to himself, "Jesus, you're a true ball of rage, you know 'at?"

"I'm not-" you huff out, and take a deep breath in, "-I'm not mad."

"Defensive then," he mends, "-You act as though I'm about to strike any minute."

You pursed your lips, "Whose to say you aren't?"

"Me," Patrick laughs, "-This entire conversation. The way I've acted around you since the beginning-"

"Oh, shut up," you roll your eyes, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your lips, "-you were an asshole once."

He groaned, but something like amusement was twinkling in his eyes, "You are the most stubborn human being on this earth-"

"You took my spot," you interrupt, sturdy.

"-It's public property," Patrick argued back, "-and how was I supposed to know it was yours before I sat in it?"

You paused, for a moment, before saying, "You couldn't. But, you could have given it to me when I asked."

"And then we wouldn't be here," he explained, now fully grinning, "-and wouldn't that just be such a bore."

Your eyes swam over his face a moment, Patrick Verona. And his dumb persistence. And his stupid handsome face-

God.

You let out a long sigh, picking around at your food. Eyes watching the swirl of your fork, you debate a few different things to say. Finally, after a few spare seconds, you made up your mind.

"Yeah," you hum, flickering your eyes up to his, "-it would."

Patrick grinned, big and bright and twinkly (you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest). His eyes, the deep brown that if you weren't careful you could stare at for way too long, were soft but still sort of happy, eager. Definitely eager.

And maybe, just maybe, you could get used to-

"I told you I could work on the 'stranger' thing," he suddenly said, smirking, "-You never should've doubted me."

"What?" You raised an eyebrow, confused.

"You said-" Patrick explained, "-you don't give your name out to strangers. And I said I could work on that part-"

You level a look at him.

"-And look, I did," he continued, before adding with a smirk, "-I have successfully escaped the cavernous barrier, deeper than the ocean I'd say, that walls you off from any poor soul who wishes to know you-"

"You're really pushing it, Verona," you chime back, fiery (but not quite all the way).

"What?" He raised his eyebrows, like he said nothing at all to warrant the reaction, "-You can't tell me that it's not like pulling teeth getting to know you. Or trying to anyway-"

You press your lips onto a flat line, "Wow, you must be a sort of masochist, then?

He faltered for a second, before laughing a little, "Oh absolutely, I chase the high of you ignoring me for 2 hours straight every day."

You rolled your eyes, biting down a smile, "I despise you."

"Better that than indifferent," he responded with ease, "-I prefer you feeling something rather than nothing at all."

"Oh my god-"

It continued like that, a back and forth, as you finish eating your mediocre cafeteria lunch. The silence is sparse but not uncomfortable when Patrick isn't running his mouth, that is. It was nice. Insanely nice. You'd probably never had as much fun on this campus as you did with him, just in general, but...

"Same time Wednesday?" He poses with a cheeky grin, leaning onto one hand against the table -closer to you than before.

You felt something warm swirl into your stomach, as your eyes flickered over his face. He was still smiling, like he wasn't able to stop when he was here with you. And something in you never wanted to see it go away anyway.

So, with a slight head tilt and a brighter grin than what you'd let slip past all day, you repeated.

"Same time Wednesday."

[intestinalemphasis]

You expected the pred's roommate to have just a little more sympathy for you. You were eaten against your will, after all.

Through the echo of groaning made by your new pink prison, you could hear them, conversing with the pred currently holding you captive. You were sure they were trying to question them, and that the pred was just as likely spinning the story, to seem like you were long gone and turned to soup now, that there was no way that you could be spit up. An excuse to let them keep you for good.

You had to state your disagreement. You protested against their tall tale, pressing and kicking against the walls of their stomach. The pred belched, inadvertently squeezing you tighter in their stomach, until your outline was just visible across their plump midsection for you to wriggle with livelihood. The proof was less in the pudding so much as it was in the pudge.

There was a pause of silence between them both, and you wondered if their roommate was contemplating their decision. It wasn't like you had anything else to tell their emotions by, aside from the muffled conversation.

"They still seem pretty alive, if you ask me."

"I- ...well, I mean, uh..."

"They sure are trying to put up quite a fight in there..."

You couldn't see their faces, but you knew the roommate had bent closer to you, because another pair of hands squished into the sides of your slimy chamber, as their voice rumbled,

"Just the way I like it..."

There was another wet gurgle around you, as the pred burped again. You groaned as you were sloshed against the stomach walls by a pair of hands.

"So feisty and tough...you're a keeper, that's for sure. I'm gonna have so much fun watching them make a meal out of you..."

Hands were poking and prodding and jiggling you around, and you were sure, with a sinking feeling in your chest, that neither one of them had any intention of letting you go...

[pillow-priestess]

They Love You

Content Warnings: noncon, second person pov, parasites, brainwashing, betrayal, earfucking, hivemind

Your beloved smiles.

"Don't worry, sweetie. I still love you more than anything. And now they love you too!"

You struggle to no avail, your limbs held in place by other mindlessly smiling hosts. Useless pleading babbles from your mouth, every word ignored by your parasite-corrupted partner. More than half of their skin is covered in the gelatinous parasites, multicolored tendrils decorated with shimmering eyespots weaving and wrapping over their otherwise naked body. Their voice is consistent but weak, clearly unused to speaking again after so long with a tentacle down their throat.

Said tentacle is instead currently stroking along your cheek, soaking up your tears and leaving pleasant tingles where it lingers. The gentle pressure is identical to how your partner touched you every night. You hate every second of it.

"They love you so much, darling. I've told them everything. They think we're adorable together, they want us together again. They love us, so we can love them. I love them as much as I love you."

They cock their head and their smile widens. "Isn't that beautiful? In just a moment, you'll understand. You'll love them too. We'll love them together."

Their hand - their beautiful hand, their strong and gentle hand, the hand that you've held and kissed and loved so many days of your lives together - their hand is puppeted to slide up their body, tracing over the parasites one by one, stroking them to show them off to you. It presses a little at the entity latched over their groin, and the little noise of pleasure they make is enough to double the rage and despair spilling out of your tear ducts. This isn't right. It's not fair. Those moans belong to you, not to some monster that's cannibalized your lover's mind.

But it's no use. The hand keeps traveling up, up, until it clenches gently at one of the parasites latched onto their chest. Fingers sink an inch into the squishy mass of tendrils, and it's pulled off of their skin with a wet schluck. Colored stains like lipstick are left around their bare tit.

The creature is brought up next to you, hovering just inches away from your ear. Little tendrils are already stroking at your skin, and you can feel their toxins sink into you with a pleasant warmth, numbing the area to lessen the coming assault. Your partner leans in close, lips nearing your own.

"It's all okay now. I promise. We promise. Every bit of them is pure love, and love is meant to be shared."

Your head is enveloped from three sides. The loose parasite sticks to one ear, clamping down and digging in. A tentacle jams into your other ear, fucking it rough like a fleshlight. And the shell of your most beloved person in the world dives forth to kiss you, lips locked with your own, tongue worming into your mouth in a pale imitation of the alien tendrils breaking into your brain.

It's only disgusting for a moment. Once the venom hits, it's truly divine.

Hands and pseudopods roam the rest of your skin, massaging and groping and loving you in all the ways your partner taught them. More parasites latch on, kissing your skin, filling your holes, claiming you into the collective. Your mind is assaulted with a millennia's worth of experiences, of love.

The other drones don't have to hold you anymore, not with your new passengers puppeting you to perfectly replicate the way you've embraced your lover every day of your lives together. You smile at them, and it is you smiling. You are them now, and they are you. You are everything. All is one is all.

As you hold each other in body and mind, the love you feel is expanded, mirrored, blended with the love of so many others across the planet. Millions of others, and millions more every second. You remember why you were scared, but you know now that the fears were completely unfounded.

Millions are still out there, still scared, but they won't be for long. This is right. This is how things are meant to be. Nothing can stop you.

Indeed, what could ever resist the power of true, universal love?