#What to do if You Aren’t Having a Nightmare

[banquetwriter]

saw you asked for viktor x reader requestssss, may i ask for some fluffy modern au ones? love your blog!!

AN: tysm !! and yes i love for modern au!viktor bc maybe he has a chance to be happy :((

warnings: i mention the pandemic a lil and some sad stuff about his disability but over all fluff :), ooc viktor bc im not used to writing him rip

i feel like in any universe viktor has nightmares, in a modern world he would wake with a jolt of fear, drenched in sweat. eyes dark and sunken in. his leg is killing him and he sighs peering at the time. 2:34 am. ahh of course he cannot possibly get a full nights sleep.

he doesn’t want to wake you of course. you need your sleep, more than him but he just can’t handle it. the pain sometimes it’s just too much. he rubs his forehead reaching for his phone and dialing your number. to his delight and concern you awnser almost immediately. “viktor?” your worried voice says through the phone.

“are you ok? did something happen.” you ask, your voice isn’t tired- like it should be. “no- just another bad dream i’m afraid. why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked with a small amused smirk.

silence met him on the other end “darling you need to sleep-“ he tries to reason before you cut him off complaining about how he never sleeps.

definitely still a work-a-holic… can’t for a moment pull himself away from work. in a modern world he is definitely still a scientist… maybe working in the medical field? possibly! the tech world seems most likely….

he’d always have accesses to the newest gadgets and do-dads. stuff that blows your mind but for him? another tuesday. and for being as technologically advanced as he is he doesn’t care much for tv show or modern movies…

he’d like the classics of course but he strikes me more as a classic ligature guy… maybe just some self projecting but some gothic lit perhaps?

he also eats extremely healthy. and when he does eat it’s not to enjoy the food it’s purely to keep him going… and your snacking habits and fast food would amuse him slightly.

of course he’d get invited to speak at many tech (or medically i’m telling you i can see him in the prosthetic industry) events. jayce forcing him to get all black suit and tie fancy. which he would hate.

what he wouldn’t hate would be seeing you all done up pretty/handsome, wondering how he managed to trick you into falling in love with him.

viktor sat in front of his full length mirror (a space specifically for him to be able to down while getting ready) adjusting his tie before using his crutch to stand up. the only thought running through his mind was how much he didn’t wanna go

then he saw you rush out of the bathroom “ugh we are gonna be late” you said worried putting in your earrings or adjusting your own tie. but viktor didn’t here your complaint. he saw his beautiful partner. his love struck eyes followed as you rush to his mirror. he slipped a hand around your waist.

you turn to him finally done adjusting your outfit he just smiles back. “you clean up nice.” you whisper before planting a small kiss on his cheek. if you wear lipstick he admires the mark before regrettably rubbing the mark off.

and even if you don’t wear it he can feel the spot burn all night long as he watches jayce mingle through the crowd.

since his right leg is the leg he needs his crutch for i think it’s safe to assume he can’t drive. he most likely could when he was younger when he used the cane not the crutch but even then after a few years he most likely wouldn’t be able to

and even if it sounds a little uncharacteristic i think he would have a personal driver. he is definitely making bank in the tech (or medically yk yk) field, especially being an inventor.

so he wouldn’t have one to be an ass but simply because he cannot walk places and the modern world relies on cars… if you can drive he much prefers you to do it however.

during the pandemic since he is most likely immune compromised i don’t see a world where he goes out much before let alone after a global pandemic. which makes his anxiety worse.

it’s better for his pain to be able to run his business from home or a quarantined lab but his mental health suffers. when the band are lifted and your allowed to go out more he has a panic attacks a lot.

during zoom calls sometimes you’d be just out of frame holding his hand as you read or something. it took a while and a lot of convincing but he eventually started to go to therapy

ik big deal for mr i don’t deserve anything good in my life…

as his health declines and he is forced to stay home rather than choosing to stay home he becomes close to bed ridden. you quit your job to help care for him more full time. he hates it.

he hates the pitty looks from jayce and all the people that worked for hextech. he doesn’t have to worry about money of course… but he wishes the world would allow him more time.

i don’t know how modern the medicine is in piltover but i’m assuming it’s decently close to ours ??? and if so he would decline at about the same rate. if our modern world has better medicine than of course he takes advantage of it to a point

until having to pop 5 pills every three hours takes a toll and he slowly stops taking them.. but he always has you to remind him why he takes them. so after increasing his therapy sessions he starts to take them again.

i’d imagine he likes to spend every domestic moment he can. massaging your legs as they lay across his lap as you ramble on about whatever tv show your watching. chuckling at your reactions as he reads

being able to brush his teeth with you in the shower… just the pure domestic bliss he basks in. having a lonely childhood he is has never been more happy to experience a life with people he loves !!

[blackorchidcoven]

Pick A Card

Your Demons

Pile 1 Spider Nightmare

Song: Venus By Shocking Blue 

“ Goddess on the mountain top

Burning like a silver flame

The summit of beauty and love

And Venus was her name

She's got it

Yeah, baby, she's got it

I'm your Venus, I'm your fire

At your desire

Well, I'm your Venus, I'm your fire

At your desire”

This energy is so intense. You’re definitely an intense person. This pile is very personal, I don't expect it to resonate for a lot of people because it’s so particular. I get the energy of someone who talks a lot, who rambles on and on. There’s also this tension… You really love attention. I hate to break it to you but someone has cursed you. I don’t know everything but it’s happened and I have to tell you. That’s why you’re being drawn to this post and to the occult world in general. Deep down inside, you know who it is that’s done it. That bitch! It’s because you have characteristics that they envy and they cannot forgive you for this. It’s so twisted. This may be weird but this pile reminds me of a family member of mine, someone I love dearly and would literally die for. I love this pile. Your life has been hard and it’s not your fault. It always has been since the very start but you never let that stop you cause your loved ones never stopped loving you. You have a strong bond with your loved ones. This is important. Never let them go. This person who has cursed you is unfortunately wedged deep into your family. Maybe they married in, maybe they work for or with your family in some fashion. No matter what, they are lurking. 

The image for this pile, the “card” is freaky. It depicts a little girl freaking out as a giant spider with a creepy cat head runs wild. I actually see this spider cat as a protector but the little girl is too young to realize. She is just scared. The cat is guarding her, and who knows… whatever the cat is hissing at could be even scarier than itself! 

Cats are independent, intuitive spirits. 

So, you who picked this card is the little girl. The cat is your guardian in some form. It comes across strongly. Whether you have one as a pet/familiar/spirit guide, or someone named Cat/Kat/Catherine or someone in mind with other feline attributes 

(wear animal prints, have whiskers/facial hair, wear cat eyeliner, have long nails/claws, are feisty 😈  & playful) 

Sounds crazy, but cats are! 🐱 

In this circumstance with my family member in mind, I’m the cat. 

The cat feels creepy sometimes but all you see is cute, so it’s hard to spot them. It’s sad but it’s easier to spot who cursed you rather than who is protecting you. You have just begun to think of life in a spiritual way. You are so excited but this person is ruining it for you, this gives it away. They try to scare you. They live a lie. They aren’t like you and you know it. You do not share the same values. You should get away from them. Cut them off. 

This person has become a detriment to you. They are flesh and blood but spiritually they are demonic. I’m sorry but they are. They’re corrupt. They’re into satanic culture and dark society. They want to watch the world burn. They’re made of something you are not. This person just hangs on. They’ve almost been told goodbye many times but it’s never truly manifested. It will but I know it will take a little while but be quicker than you think. I’m thinking around spring you’ll swear you see change even though you feel like you’re imagining it but by the end of summer everything will be taken care of. You’ll see. 

Energies: 

Cancer ♋️ 

Hallucinations 

Mass Hysteria 

Childhood Trauma 

Nightmares 

Femininity

Girlhood 

Goosebumps Books 

Love ❤️ 

Vintage 

Tradition 

Stereotypes 

Comic Books 

Action 

Art 

Curses 

Woman 

Witch 

Beef 

Jealousy 

Venus 

The Past 

Scorpio ♏️ 

Cherished

Spring 

Divine Intervention 

Pile 2 Swamp Queen 

Song: Beautiful By Christina Aguilera

“Don't look at me

Every day is so wonderful

Then suddenly it's hard to breathe

Now and then I get insecure

From all the pain

I'm so ashamed

I am beautiful no matter what they say

Words can't bring me down

I am beautiful in every single way

Yes, words can't bring me down, oh no

So don't you bring me down today”

Okay, you’re your own worst enemy. 

This would be my pile 😂 

Okay. We get it, you also have a lot to say like Pile 1. 

You have a constant internal monologue going on, you’re the star of your own movie. I sense The Star Card for this pile. You are dreamy, spiritual and weird. You’re obviously magical. There’s something strange about you. You are seriously different. You’re not what’s considered normal. You worry so much about whether you come across as normal or not but you don’t have to worry any longer cause I’m going to clarify it for you, you fucking don’t. You are weird. You do not conform to society’s expectations but not because you don’t want to, you just weren’t born to. Most who pick this pile wear makeup, false eyelashes, wigs, dye their hair, have acrylic nails…This is not to hide who you are but actually to accentuate it. You use vibrant colors and exaggerate your natural features so gorgeously! You go! You're not afraid to show your true face though. You’re seriously into skin care/self care/self love and it shows. You glow. Everyone acts weird around you. You’d be surprised why… it’s because you’re beautiful 😍 

I do not sense any denial or skepticism from this pile 

😆 

Everyone already knows … 

It’s almost awkward 😐 

You do not value appearances whatsoever and this is your true beauty. I sense a lot of empaths in this pile that are just now discovering that they’re empaths maybe even because of this reading! 

You’re earthy. 

I sense a lot of dark skinned queens here. 

You’re a reader. You read books for sure but you read people too. You mind your own business and that’s beautiful too. Maybe you mind your business too much, people want more from you. They want to see you more, talk to you more, hear you laugh more and see you smile… You have many admirers. I mean tons. You had humble beginnings and that’s shaped you into who you are today. You are so mature, too mature. Some want you to relax more and have fun. Some are critical of you and want you to “act your age” they want to dumb you down to their level. They want to party with you, get you drunk and dance 🪩 

This is not anything like you. 

Ignore these kinds of individuals because they want to change you. This isn’t who you are, if it was then so be it. You’d rather curl up on your couch with a book and a cup of tea 🍵 so do that! 

This all sounds so good, then how are you your own problem?

 You’re stumped. 

You’re stagnant. 

A running theme in your life is waiting cause God is teaching you the virtue of patience my friend. 

Ground yourself. 

Notice everything. 

Get comfortable but remember to work hard now so you can relax later. 

Stop procrastinating. 

Do your best. 

You’re idolized behind closed doors. You light up this world. 

No one would know an angel like you could have been through hell but that’s the truth. The dark side of this reading is everything you’ve overcome. 

The color of this reading is bright green. Slime green like the swamp monster in the image. I see severe chronic incurable illness, sicknesses, nausea, actual vomit. There’s this disgusting and grossed out feeling I get. I get that you feel like a monster maybe cause you don’t “fit in” like I said. You cry about being a misfit. 

You put on a happy face. You hate showing people your vulnerabilities but you do so gracefully. You feel nervous a lot, like all the time pretty much. You stay on an even keel of worry. You feel like it’s hard being human, and it is so you try to overcompensate. Just chill out. Your overthinking is a gift and a curse you’ll learn. The present moment is a gift 🎁 so enjoy it. 

Energies: 

Gemini ♊️ 

Confidence 

Insecurity 

Acne 

Grease 

Iconic 

Makeup 💄 

The Present 

Reality Check 

Money 💰 

Plastic Surgery 

Shots 

Needles 💉 

Alcohol 🍷 

Mirror 🪞 

Lips 👄 

Mouth 

Voice 

Throat Chakra 

Sexuality 

Seduction 

Submission 

Scorpio ♏️ 

Scorpion 🦂 

Snake 🐍 

Mistake 

Self Harm 

Self Destructive Tendencies 

Junkie 

Addiction 

Flaws 

Weakness 

Pastel 

Accurate 

Monster 

Shadow Self 

Ego 

Virgo ♍️ 

Aquarius ♒️ 

Pile 3 Wishbone 

Song: If I Die Young By The Band Perry 

“If I die young, bury me in satin

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Sink me in the river at dawn

Send me away with the words of a love song

Oh-oh, oh-oh”

I see red. 

I sense male/masculine energy. 

This pile likes my energy so that’s why you’re here. You like how I talk. We could be friends. Oh. 

You’re angry. 😡 

You’re into conspiracy theories and the apocalypse. You may be religious. You are dying to state your individuality against the other piles. 

You’re vulgar. You swear a lot. 

You’re like, “Fuck you, get to my pile!” 

You are into horror and gothic things. 

I see myself as a teenager so you must be pretty darn damaged. 

You speak negatively to yourself. You abuse yourself. 

You hate yourself. You feel like no one understands yet the ones who do are as bad as you and can’t help you but at least they make you feel less crazy, right?

This is a rough pile guys. 

I’m so sorry for who this is for. It’s definitely for my younger self. I’m having flashbacks. I’m uncomfortable. 

I have to be honest, this is the work of the devil. 

I bet if you are another pile scrolling down out of curiosity you probably could see it clearly but when you’re knee deep in it, you cannot see it and even act like it’s “cool” 

It isn’t. 

I don’t even know what to say. 

Someday you’ll realize why the devil was after your soul so bad, you’ll realize the richness of who you are and maybe you’ll turn around or maybe you won’t. 

I sense deep regret. Someone who’s eating their words and really anxious 😥 You absolutely beat yourself up. You cry a lot. 

You're young aren’t you? 

Just because I said male/masculine energy doesn’t mean some women cannot be involved… You on your period? I’m teasing but really, are you? 

I sense mars energy. 

Dark humor, sharp features and tall frames. Warrior souls, brown eyes and hardy laughs. A taste for spicy food, picky when it comes to partners and the moral compass of a saint. 

You may be scary on the outside but you're a little ray of sunshine on the inside, aren’t you? 

Seriously. You got a good soul. 

I sense Leo ♌️  energy. 

People want to be like you. 

You choose what you say very carefully. You tend to obsess about what you say. 

I sense a blocked throat chakra. 

You may have nightmares you’re choking, this is a result of it. 

Pray on it. 

Manifest it. 

Open it. 

You’re actually really loud. 

In energy and volume. 

You have massive energy. 

You may be big physically, if not then you wear wild outfits that get everyone looking & complimenting.

No matter what you look hot 🥵 and sexy. 

You get rid of people in your life if they cross you and now you’ve come to a point where there’s no one left. You’re devastated and lost all hope. 

You feel like an alien 👽 

This is how the devil wants you to feel

Hang on. 

Survive. Then thrive. 

God will give you opportunities to move on. I know you’re ashamed of yourself right now so move slow. 

Be a sloth 🦥 

You feel like a joke.

You also feel numb. 

I pray for you, I know you’ll be given a fair chance as I was. You just have to wait. 

All of our stories are different yet still similar. 

I felt like nothing could get through to me, but that was my story until God moved mountains. 

I was in a pathetic place so you should listen to my testimony. I was mad at the world until I realized I’m a part of it, that I matter. I realized not everything is as simple as it seems. We as beings are not as simple as we think we are. 

You are not “bad” like you say and think you are. You are the author of your own life. You're the writer but God is the editor. If you wanna be bad then be bad if you want to be good be good but the beautiful thing is that we all have different definitions of good and bad. 

So define yourself. Then you’ll be happy. 

Your demons are real and the literal devil is after your soul. Don’t panic. 🫨 

I sense that it’s just spiritual at this point. 

You’re not possessed (yet) 

Nothing is attached to you but the devil is attacking your subconscious. Either God is making you walk through hell (and it gets deeper my friend) or you’re trying to swim in the deep end, I trust you know which is which. (I know you do)

So if it is out of your control try to view it as a learning experience no matter how unbearable it may be (I have done this and it sorta helps) 

If it’s in your control, be vigilant. Stay aware. Remain observant. Question everything. Ponder existence. You will be rewarded. Expect change and you’ll be good. 👍 

Make decisions that make you happy.

Energies:

Aries ♈️ 

Resistance 

Stubborn 

Cross 

Religion 

The Holy Trinity 

Blood 🩸 

Bones 🦴 

Memories 

Crying 😭 

Weight Loss/Weight Gain 

Change 

Transformation 

Roses 🌹 

Encouragement 

Hormones 

Teenager 

Adolescence 

Leo ♌️ 

Lion 🦁 

Copy Cats 

Regret 

Mistake 

Redo 

Restart 

Delete 

Space 

Advice 

Friendship 

Guidance 

Similarities 

Red 

Summer 

[ladykailitha]

The Good Elf Part 1

Hello, it's December so that means Christmas!! For the next four weeks, I'm going to be posting two chapters a day until the Sunday before Christmas. And if it stays the eight chapters I'm planning it should be all out on time. (fingers crossed, it is going smoothly soo...)

Summary: Steve is a business man charged with planning his dad's company Christmas party. Christmas has never been a good day for him, so he's a bit of Scrooge as far as the holiday is concerned. So when he meets tree farmer Eddie Munson, the man decided to show Steve what Christmas means. And maybe with a little Christmas magic Steve will find more than just a love for the holiday, he'll find love for Christmas too.

~

On October 31st, I gathered my best elves and explained my problem.

Dear elves, it has come to my attention in the light of recent events Christmas cheer is down nearly a thousand percent. There aren’t that many of us, so Mrs. Claus and I have come to the conclusion that we should send out ambassadors to places that need it the most. You don’t have to turn the whole town, just one person. Because that one person will have a ripple effect that will spread to others.

These are the list of places we think you’ll do the most good:

I listed off all the towns and I turn to the last elf in the line.

“I have something special in mind for you.”

“Me?” the elf squeaked.

“Yes, I’m sending you to Hawkins, Indiana. I think you’ll do well there.”

“Am I being punished?”

I let out a jolly laugh.

“No little one, not everyone is fit for every job. This is to see what you can do and if this doesn’t work out. We’ll find something else.”

~

It wasn’t that Steve hated his job. No, of course not. He hated that his boss was his dad and everyone shunned him for it. Even though he had gone to school for it same as they had, but nope. Just because he was the boss’s son, it was nepotism. He hated the long hours. He hated the way they were only surface level do-gooders. Paying only lip service to causes like cancer research, the environment, and the queer community, all the while the bosses lined their pockets with bigger and bigger bonuses, while his coworkers and his, yes his, wages stagnated.

But most of all he hated the way the company did Christmas. All talk about food banks and giving to the poor, while throwing lavish parties and big giveaways to the employees.

So no, he didn’t hate his job. He just hated everything about it.

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington boomed, throwing open the door to his office. “I’m going to need you to throw the Christmas party this year. Dolores is out with COVID again and won’t be able to set everything up.”

Steve bit back a groan of annoyance. He sucked at planning.

But before he could launch a protest that sure she could do it from home or find someone else to do it, Mr. Harrington’s phone rang out loudly in the room.

Mr. Harrington held up a finger to shush him while he checked his message.

“Well, damn,” he grunted. “I’m going to have to find a new secratary. That was her husband. Her funeral is on Saturday at 10am. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He wandered off muttering to himself, wondering if he could get a hot blond this time and whether or Steve’s mother would even notice.

Steve buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream. He pinched himself and even picked up a paper to see if he could read it. But alas, he was not dreaming. This wasn’t a nightmare.

He was in actual fucking hell.

~

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington bellowed, storming into his apartment two days later. “One of the IT guys, Milton, Morris or something–”

“Mitch?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mr. Harrington snapped his fingers. “That’s the one! He managed to get into Delores’s computer and get a list of the vendors and things for the Christmas party. I had him email it to you.”

Steve wandered over to his phone and picked it up. Sure enough there was a very detailed list of everything from decorators and caterers, to budgets for each. It was very well organized.

“Yeah, everything looks good,” he murmured and set his phone back down. He pulled out a vest and suit coat and began putting them on.

“Just one small change,” Mr. Harrington said. “The board wants three of those ‘rent a tree’ deals instead of one big one.”

Steve frowned. “A what now?”

“It’s very eco-friendly,” Mr. Harrington said. “Basically you rent the tree and then give it back for them to be used again the next year, then after they reach a certain height the get planted in the forest.”

“Okay.” Steve wasn’t sure there was anything else he could say to that.

Mr. Harrington blinked at him. “Where are you going so dressed up on a Saturday? You got a meeting I didn’t see on your schedule?”

“I’m going to the funeral, Dad.”

“Whose funeral?” Mr. Harrington asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion, bordering on anger.

Steve paused in pursuit of his nicer dress shoes and turned to him slowly as if he was trying not spoke a predator into attacking.

“Dolores Gardener, your former secretary,” he said just as slow as he turned. Part of him wanted to hold his hands up in a show of submission, but he wasn’t sure how well he would react to that.

Then Mr. Harrington’s face cleared. “Oh, so you drew the short straw. You poor bastard. I already sent them flowers so don’t bother on that front. You mother is demanding your presence at dinner tomorrow. Seven o’clock, sharp. You know how she gets when you’re late.”

He left as loudly as he came, and Steve sat down hard on the bed. He buried his head in his hands. This was going to be a long winter.

~

Steve supposed that the best part about doing the Christmas party was that he was not only given a blank check for all this shit, but that he had been given the time off needed to get it all done.

He didn’t have to show up in the office for anything until the 24th, unless he needed a signature for anything.

He started his hunt for the trees first, mainly because the place the board wanted to use closed up two years ago and they had only picked the first name that came up on a Google search.

He found a rent-a-tree place in nearby Hawkins and decided to take a look.

Steve got into the back seat of his father’s company car and tapped on the roof, to let the drive know he was in and ready to go.

“This seems like quite a distance to get a Christmas tree,” Murray, the driver said, looking at Steve in the rear view mirror.

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, but it’s what Dad wants...”

“And whatever Clint Harrington wants, he gets,” Murray agreed, resigned and pulled into traffic.

They passed in silence as Steve looked up Hawkins. He found out that the town were really big on Christmas each year. Complete with a Christmas village, Santa reigning supreme on a red velvet throne; an ice skating rink set up in the middle of town, though you could ice skate on either of the nearby lakes as well; ice sculpting contests; huge hills for sledding; sleigh rides. Like the whole town transformed into the North Pole from Nov. 1st to Dec. 31st. Two whole months of Christmas.

Steve thought that would have been his own personal hell.

He tossed his phone on the seat next to him and looked back up at Murray. “Oh, I meant to ask, did you get that dog you were looking at?”

Murray’s eyes lit up. “I did.” And began to tell Steve all about the mad cap adventures of Scamp, the corgi.

Finally they were pulling up to the tree farm. In bright festive letters were the words Munson’s Nursery and Tree Farm.

Steve stepped out of the car and looked around. There were so many trees of various types of fir and suddenly he was instantly overwhelmed. He started wandering around and soon he was lost. Not just his direction but what he was supposed to be looking for. He felt like Charles Brown. Like he was going to pick the wrong tree and Christmas was going to be ruin.

His eyes started welling up and he just wanted to go home. He turned around suddenly and bumped into someone who had been coming up behind him.

“Shit!” the man cried out as Steve yelled, “Sorry!”

Then the man’s arms came up to steady him. “Hey are you okay?”

“No,” Steve said with the shake of his head. “I’m supposed to get three trees for the company Christmas party and the person who usually does it, passed away recently and my dad picked me to her place but I’m so overwhelmed!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the man murmured, rubbing Steve’s arms slowly. “Take a deep breath there, sweetheart. You’re hyperventilating.”

Steve took a deep breath and then another until he could see straight. And in the light falling snow the man in front of him cast an ethereal figure. He had long dark curls and dimpled grin and the biggest brown eyes Steve had even seen.

“There you are,” the man said gently. “I’m Eddie. My uncle runs the nursery, so lets find him and we can talk about what you need and for how long, okay?”

Steve took another deep breath and nodded. “Thank you. I’m Steve.”

“Come follow me, Stevie,” Eddie said cheerfully.

He turned a corner and spotted a volunteer. “Hey, Robbie, did you see which direction Uncle Wayne went?”

She peered around the area and then pointed. “Last I saw him he was in the Douglas firs with Mrs. Click.”

Eddie grimaced. “I wonder if she’ll trying grade him for his ‘knowledge’ of trees.” He shook his head and bid Steve to follow him.

They turned a couple of corners and there was a nice older man with thinning hair and a soft smile talking with what Steve assumed was pickled lemon come to life. Everything about her was pinched and yellow. And angry.

Very, very angry.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said cheerfully. “I have a doosey for ya. This gentleman needs three trees for his work. I’ll take over for you if you want to help him out?”

Wayne smiled that same crinkle-eyed, dimple smile his nephew had and turned to Steve. “First time buy a live tree?”

“First time buying any tree,” Steve admitted dryly. “Not much of a Christmas person really.”

Eddie whipped around. “How can you not love Christmas?” he said, scandalized, holding his heart in his hands. “It’s only the most magical day of the year!”

“Young man, are you going to help me or not?” Mrs. Click hissed. “I’m looking for a Douglas fir and these aren’t Douglas firs!”

Wayne led Steve away as Eddie looked around himself in confusion. “Ma’am, these are Douglas firs. Maybe describe what you’re looking for and we see if we have it...”

Steve turned to Wayne. “Is he going to be okay with her? She reminds me of my mom and not in a good way.”

Wayne threw his head back and laughed. “He’ll be fine. He’ll play dumb until either they figure out what she wants or she goes elsewhere. Happens every year.”

Steve looked behind him, worriedly, but followed Wayne to a nice little hut in the center of the maze of trees. Wayne unlocked the door and sat him down.

“All right,” Wayne said sliding over an info-graphic that had roughly a dozen or so different trees. “We don’t have every tree on that list, but if you like one of the ones that isn’t I can try to find you something close enough.”

Steve pulled the nicely drawn poster closer to him. “Wow, I didn’t realize that there was so many.”

“That’s fair,” Wayne grabbed the poster and slid it off to the side. “So lets narrow it down. What’s the tree going to be for? Inside or outside?”

“Inside,” Steve said quickly. “The ceilings are fifteen feet.”

Wayne nodded in approval. “That’s good that you know that. Most people don’t and try buying a fifteen footer when they only have ten foot ceilings. Is it going to be lit? Decorated?”

Steve nodded. Another answer he knew right away.

“Will there be presents under it?” Wayne asked warmly.

“No,” he said with a small, fragile smile. “It’s for an office.”

Wayne pulled out a piece of paper and started jotting down Steve’s answers. “Right, any other requirements?”

Steve chewed on the skin around his nails. “Do you have the rent-a-tree program? My fa–I mean my boss was hoping to go green this year.”

Wayne’s eyes narrowed at the slip up but said nothing. Instead he pulled out a list from the top drawer of the desk. “These are the trees that are available to be rented out. Most of them are Douglas firs, like the ones where you found me. Though we do have a lovely trio of Fraser firs that are about six feet tall.”

Steve pulled the poster over to him again and then nodded. “I’ll take all three.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment. “This will be an office, I’m assuming. Do you have house keeping that can water the trees?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “We have other live plants year round and I have already cleared it with the head of housekeeping before coming here.”

Wayne nodded appreciatively. “Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. Why were you so nervous before?”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “It’s my first year doing it and I’m not really into the whole holiday. I was worried I’d get it wrong, especially since I really don’t care, but the people I’m buying for do.”

Wayne nodded again and started pulling up the paper work for the trees. “If you can write the name of the company, the address, and the date they need to be delivered by, I’ll ring you up a bill of sale.”

“Great.”

He started filling out the information and was almost done when Eddie walked back in with a wide grin and a check in hand.

“That saucy minx tried to get me to tie the tree to her car before she paid,” he said easily. “Can you believe it?”

Wayne chuckled. “Yes. Does it every year. Would you move our rentable Frasers, our friend here will be taking all three.”

Eddie’s eyebrows wagged. “Friend indeed! I’ll be right on it.” He got this grin on his face as Steve pulled out the checkbook from his briefcase. “You said you were planning your work Christmas do, right?”

Steve handed the check to Wayne who then gave him a receipt in return, then he turned to Eddie. “Well, sure. I’ve got to buy all the decorations and lights and all that jazz. Why do you ask?”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “You see, I’ve got friends who might be able to help you out with some of that stuff.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “What do you get out of it?”

“Let me show you the fun side of Christmas,” Eddie said with an even bigger grin. “You get everything you need, my friends get your company’s business, it’s win/win/win for everyone. What do you say?”

Steve snapped his briefcase shut and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Eddie could barely contain his glee. “Just wait until I tell Robin, she thought for sure you’d say no!”

Steve threw his head back and laughed.

~

Part 2

The italics are Santa, if that's not quite clear.

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[theartsynebulawhodoodles]

matching bracelets. Color X Killer One Shot and Art!

{Comfort, cuddles, LOTS OF KISSES ON THE FACE, relaxation, loneliness, soothing, can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, lots of affection, hugs, snuggles, reassurance}

[Tw: This contains themes of loneliness, possible separation anxiety (depends on how you interpret it), and a mention of keeping everything bottled up and hidden, Nightmare being cruel to Killer reference (not sure if these two needs to be mentioned, but just in case!)]

[Mention! Not everyone experiences loneliness the same way! This is written by perspective!]

ART AND FANFIC UNDER CUT!

“Hey, Killer, I brought rubber bands!”

Color’s soft and cheerful voice was heard as the two sat outside together. The birds chirping and the grass ruffling under Color’s feet the only other things heard in the tranquil environment. Killer looked up from the ground, tilting his head.

“what are we going to do with those?”

Killer asked, confused by it, looking at all the different colors inside the box. Color smiled and sat down next to Killer, placing the clear box onto the ground. Color’s rainbow flames swirled around like smoke in their air, a sense of joy apparent in his expression.

“Cmon, I wanna make bracelets! It’s fun, trust me!”

Color spoke in an excited and happy tone. Killer never seen him so ecstatic. He would do anything to keep that expression on Color’s face, so, he complied.

“well, if you wanna do it. How do we make them with rubber bands though? don’t we need…string or something?”

Killer asked, confused by the presence of rubber bands in this task. Weren’t they supposed to be used for hair or something? Color soon guided his hand into Killer’s, firmly yet warmly grasping it. Color brought Killer’s hand close to his. Killer’s eyes started to sparkle from the close touch, which looked like little stars in the night sky.

“Heh, see? You are excited. Look, you have stars again!”

Color pointed out with a lazy smile and a chuckle. Killer immediately got flustered and hid his face in his jacket. The little stars in his eyes always appear when he was happy, and it was still a process to let them be seen without embarrassment. Color kissed Killer’s forehead, smiling at him before opening the clear box.

“Alright, let me show you an easy pattern to do. So what you do is-“

Color plucked a red rubber band from the box, putting it into an infinity sign before placing it on Killer’s fingers. Then, he grabbed another one, a black rubber band, and placed it without crossing it onto Killer’s fingers.

“Now, you place the crossed one onto the top rubber band. Keep doing this, without crossing the new ones of course, until it’s long enough to wrap around your wrist!”

Color said with a smile. Killer’s eyes sparkled slightly at Color’s smile, looking down at his fingers. He began to do what Color said, continuing to make a bracelet. Color’s happiness motivated Killer, and he wanted to see him smile. Color began to work on his own.

After a while, the two eventually created their bracelets. Color’s was rainbow, and Killer’s was red, black, and white. Color looked at Killer with a smile.

“Look, we made matching bracelets! I know they aren’t completely matching- but we made them together.”

Color said with a soft smile. Killer was filled with joy seeing Color so happy and full of life. He wanted to see it more. Killer slowly smiled with Color, hugging him tight.

.

.

.

But it was only a memory. Now Killer sat alone in his room, staring at the ground with his hands clasped together. His eyes focused on the ground, his soul feeling like an anvil inside of his chest. He felt so…hopeless. He couldn’t sense any tranquility in himself.

It was always his weakness to be alone. It reminded him of so many things, and now it made him feel lonely. Loneliness was scary to him. He remembered what happened to him last time he was lonely, how his soul screamed out for somebody, and someone who planned to hurt him came. He was scared of it happening again.

How can he be vulnerable? Who was going to see the opportunity and just hurt him over and over again? Who can he trust? And even if he told someone, who would actually believe him? After all, people saw his friends and said he wasn’t lonely cause he had friends.

He decided to remain quiet. he knew it wasn’t the best choice, but what could he do? He didn’t want to go through the same thing again, and again, and again. But while he was cycling through those thoughts, he looked down at the bracelet. The red, black, and white rubber band bracelet.

He stared for a bit, his mind traveling through all the thoughts, all the memories he had with Color. Color would never harm him, Color wasn’t like that. So, he decided to be vulnerable in front of him, for the first time. He picked up his phone, opening up his messages and clicking on Color. He pressed the call button. It was an act of courage he was so grateful he done instead of staying quiet.

Soon, Color picked up.

“Kills? Why are you calling?”

“hey, uh, i’m in a rough patch. can you…stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Of course. I’m coming over right now, but please, talk to me.”

Killer began to tear up. The re-realization that Color cared about him circled in his mind, his heart swelling and tightening.

“i need you here. I feel lonely- i am terrified. nightmare keeps popping into my mind. p-please, come to me, i’m scared..”

Killer pleaded, soft sobs soon escaping his mouth.

“I’m almost there. keep taking deep breaths, you’re strong, okay?”

Color spoke to him. After a minute, Color arrived. Killer immediately ran into Color’s arms, sobs escaping him. Color immediately hugged Killer back, rubbing his back and softly whispering to him.

“It’s okay, I got you, I got you..”

Color whispered. Killer continued to sob, finally letting himself be vulnerable in front of someone. It’s been years since he done this. Color looked at Killer, caressing his face before leaning down and kissing his forehead.

“Let me see your starry eyes, Kills.”

Color whispered softly, worry in his rainbow lit eye. Killer hesitated, before looking up, letting the teeny tiny holes of light that looked like stars shine at Color. Color softly smiled, kissing Killer’s tears away, a bit of black goop appearing on his lip.

“I need you to tell me what’s going on, okay? You are worrying me sick.”

Color whispered, slowly guiding Killer out of his room and to Color’s room. Color knew that Killer’s room could be a danger to him at times because it could bring back bad memories of the past because of it being a smaller room, and more trapping to Killer, like he was trapped. The messiness makes the room feel more small and trapping to Killer. Once inside Color’s cozy and more spacious room, Color led Killer to his bed, sitting him down. Color placed a hand on Killer’s arm, rubbing it.

Killer hesitated, shaking slightly in fear of opening up. Yet he took a deep breath, letting the bright light that is Color immerse him in a state of comfort.

“i’m fearful, color. i feel so far away from you. i feel so far away from everyone, even horror and dust, hell, even delta. but i’m scared of telling anyone this, what if they turn out like nightmare? what if they don’t listen?”

Killer whispered, tearing up as all the emotion he buried deep down into his soul freed from its bindings of pretending everything was okay. Killer grabbed Color’s hand and squeezed it, his fingers twitching. Color nodded at his words, slowly moving his hand to Killer’s waist and slowly moving him into his arms for a embrace, knowing he couldn’t look him in the eyes in this state and just wanted to be held. Color whispered to Killer, comforting and soothing the poor skeleton.

“Killer, I want you to listen close, okay? Nobody will betray you, okay? Nobody will do that to you. We care for you to the moon, back again, and beyond the moon. I want you to know that we love you. I love you. And I always will love you and be here for you. I’ll be your greatest supporter, okay?”

Color reassured him, slowly laying down while Killer was on top of him. Killer looked at Color with tears running down his face, his hand gently clenching Color’s shoulder. Killer soon let himself lay his head on Color’s shoulder and curl up in his arms. He shivered, looking up at Color.

“you mean it?”

Killer asked in an unsure tone. Color softly smiled, caressing Killer’s face with both hands, before placing another kiss on his temple.

“Of course. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t, huh?”

Color said, a soft chuckle coming from him to lighten the mood. Killer nodded, slowly leaning up and lightly kissing the corner of Color’s mouth. Color smiled, a soft rainbow blush appearing on his face. Color caressed Killer’s skull as Killer lowered his skull onto Color’s shoulder, Color whispering a soft question.

“I know you want to be like this for a while, so, do you want me to play your favorite song? Maybe some white noise? Pink noise?”

Color asked. Killer looked up at him, the stars peeking out in his eyes again as he responded.

“no. your breathing is all i need.”

Killer whispered back in a loving and more relaxed tone. The twos hands clasped together, their matching bracelet clasps slowly attaching together. Killer’s soul lifted up, Color’s touch gentle as he caressed the soul. Color gently kissed the soul, which made a sense of relaxation pour over Killer. The loneliness was now replaced by the comfort of his beloved Color. He was now at peace.

[aquariitheorchid]

Okay. Trigun headcannon time.

TRISTAMP

Vash gets horrible phantom pains in his missing arm. I don’t think pain killers, or whatever helps phantom pains, would be common in No Man’s Land. Especially for Independents. Brad and Luida make sure he has some for when the pain is bad. It took a lot of trail and error before they figured out what worked for him. (He rarely takes them as a form of self-self harm, thinking that deep down, he deserves the pain.)

Meryl has family in November and is the first in her family to graduate from college. They’re so proud of her but are worried for her.

Wolfwood has horrible depth perception when out of combat. Singling the Punisher is fine, it’s what he trained to do but reaching for a glass? He can mask it somewhat well. It’s from the accelerated growth. He’s not entirely used to his new body, in some manners. He ‘grows’ out of it.

Knives and Vash don’t sweat like humans do. They don’t have BO. If you get close enough to either, they don’t smell at all. Vash uses some very light cologne to mask this occasionally.

Meryl has PTSD after Julai. She gets nightmares here and there but the brunt of it is any bright light, red object, or crater in the sand causes flashbacks. She’s almost crashed the car/trailer here and there. They grew more manageable with time, but the nightmares persist.

Knives, after he cut off Vash’s arm, contemplated if he was really doing the right thing. It was brief, only for a moment. The screams of his sisters, Tesla, and the words of the Plant Technicians that day struck him out of it fast.

Wolfwood canNOT drink beer. This man is a whiskey guy.

Meryl keeps a little bottle of the kind of alcohol Roberto likes in the glovebox. If she has the cash and is in the area, she’ll leave a larger one at the memorial site. (She’s spent more time there than you’d imagine. It was painful at first, but as almost like exposure therapy, she found a thin veil of peace there. It helped her deal with the hallucinations. ‘This is how things are, how they played out. This is where. Those mirages aren’t real’).

Roberto was a lady’s man when he was younger.

Wolfwood is some flavor of trans. Same with Vash.

Zazie learned what pranks are from over hearing humans in the early days. It’s where they also picked up human language. Anyway, Zazie has played a lot of pranks on unsuspecting humans. Some of them on Eye of Micheal members once they became affiliated. No one knows it was them besides Elendira.

Zazie changes appearance here and there, not majorly, just subtle shifts. Staring at them is uncanny at times.

The PLANTs all each have their own personality. If you ask one of the nicer techs, they can tell you a PLANTs specific personality. It’s all from very subtle body language and energy readings.

PLANTs are all connected to the higher plane, they can feel when one of their sisters die. They all also felt Knives be injured and whatever the fuck he was doing during episodes 11-12.

Independent plants have fangs.

Independent Plants have uncanny intuition.

Knives is one of those pretentious music bros. Expect he hates all human music. So it’s all only his composed music. Which all pretentiousness about his own music is internal. He doesn’t speak about it to anyone. (Two sided beef but he’s both sides?)

Legato’s arm plate thing has human skull material somewhere in it. It may not be visible but it’s there.

The Eye of Micheal recruits all of their lackeys and foot men from poor, impoverished areas. They are extremely predatory and manipulative.

The Hopeland orphanage was founded in the early days with no ill intentions but the sinners took it over and later fully branded it to be part of the Eye of Micheal.

Livio/Razlo get an autoimmune condition from the experiments later in life. Idk which one but I’m feeling something with his joints and tendons. The Eye of Micheal could not give a shit about it. As long as he is still useful.

Livio dissociates for days on time. He barely has any hobbies when with the Eye of Micheal. He picks up puzzles once he gets out and starts healing. It’s something for his hands to do.

Tesla haunts the Eye of Micheal facility. You can see very, very faint glimpses of her around corners, in the operating room, or the cells. She’s not too happy with what’s going on.

I’m gonna add more later. This is what I have cooked for now.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: The way I've somehow made MYSELF hate Homelander more needs to be studied. The power of suggestion is very, very real.

Title from House of Wolves by My Chemical Romance.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary/Warnings: Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Request from @thegildedblogger! Takes place before Chapter 1, about two or three weeks after the Boys find Her. Usual warnings, plus mentions of depression, suicide, and SA without depiction (not by Soldier Boy).

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, angst, Ben's only mentioned.

You’ve been having new nightmares. Nightmares where everything is white and cold like before, but it’s all below your feet and running with red. And there are screams. In harmony with your own, echoing over your every ragged breath, the world is fucking filled with screams. Millions of them, high and low and musical, a choir of demons calling you back down, down, down to somewhere hidden.

Somewhere that you’ll only hear the ghost of their voices, where everything will be spotless but dirty and the only eyes that watch you will be a horrible shade of blue. Where the sky won’t see you, but won’t need to see you, because you’ll never be able to hide in dirt and mud and grass again. You won’t be permitted to bleed, or cry, or scream, and everything red will be cold leather that wraps around your throat. And you can’t move or run or hide and this isn’t real but you’re not safe. It’s all in your head, but everything is burning and too-white teeth are flashing in your vision as blue eyes watch you fall alone.

You can’t breathe. Your skin is crawling and something under it is distorting and feels wrong. All of this is wrong and you aren’t safe and you can’t breathe and no. No, no, no, you can’t breathe and no-

You hear a nervous, muffled voice call your name as someone shakes your body. They’re afraid, and it’s not your fear because they’re not paralyzed, but they are so fucking worried and afraid and it’s pulling their stomach into knots and it's alive in their throat-

Your eyes shoot open as something hits you in the gut, and you scramble back as the full force of Hughie’s fear hits your body. His eyes are wide, his face pale, and he’s afraid of you. That’s the look people give feral animals—where they’re unsure if they should help or run—and you can’t even blame him. The sound that had left you as you’d woken was almost a shriek, you’re curled into a fetal position against the wall, and you can’t look good, or stable, or healthy. You haven’t showered in almost a week, you’re probably pallid and gaunt from lack of sleep and erratic eating, and there’s a thin but steady flow of smoke rising from your body.

You’d be afraid of you.

You are afraid of you.

You’re haunted by the screams of the scientists, and the ice skaters, and the ash and rubble of the forest, and you don't know what Hughie wants, but you're stuck in the forest—trapped in your own head—so you don't know how to ask.

You’d hoped you’d have more time after that. After how horribly the mission at the ice rink had gone, after you’d seen Homelander and the air had begun to wave around you. After everything had grown blurry and loud and a scratching, overwhelming pain had started to push out of your skin. After you’d come fully back into your body in a burnt clearing, and MM had appeared from the untouched trees and told you that you’d been about to explode, so he’d gotten you somewhere safer to do it.

You’d thought you’d get to rest after he hadn’t looked at you the whole ride back to the Boys’ Headquarters. After he’d asked, in a low voice, “What the hell happened back there?”

“I,” You’d swallowed, tapping your fingers against your palms and making sure every nail dug into your flesh. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I just, I saw Homelander, and I, I couldn’t-“

“Just Homelander?” MM had interrupted, and he’d sounded more curious than judgmental, so you’d nodded.

“Just Homelander. He,” your voice had barely been a whisper, and every breath had felt like labor. “He could’ve seen me. If I saw him, he could’ve, he might have seen me. And he, he might have tried to-“

“Okay. Got it.”

And that had been it. MM had dropped you back at the Headquarters, you’d shuffled over to your mattress, and you’d truly believed you’d have more time. To do what, before what, you’re not sure. But more time.

That obviously isn’t the case, though, because Hughie’s still watching you with a worry you’d felt deep and worming in your heart, and Butcher’s behind him with a smirk. Looking you over like he’s trying to figure out the fastest way to knock you down if you pounce, holding a hot pink tennis ball that matches the singed one on the other side of your mattress.

“Did,” you clear your throat, moving a hand to your neck in a weak attempt to pull the smoke back into your body by force. “Did you throw a tennis ball at me?”

“You weren’t gettin up with Hughie’s weak little shovin.” Butcher shrugs, placing the ball in his hand back on the desk. “Need you bright and bouncy, sunshine-“

“Don’t call me that.” You snap, your anger helping you sit up a little straighter against the wall. “Why do you need me up?”

“Mallory’s coming over,” Hughie mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “MM, he thinks we should take a proper look at your, um…” Hughie trails off, and Butcher rolls his eyes.

“Bloody hell, lad, grow some fuckin balls and tell the lady we’re gonna poke her fucked little brain.”

Your lips part with a slight shock, and the foreign feeling under your skin starts to run up and down your spine. “You’re what?”

“Takin a really good look into that fucked head of yours.” Butcher shot you a wink, and the fire starts to sit at the base of your chest, pushing up your throat. “Seein what makes you tick, and how the fuck we can stop you tickin.”

Your attention turns to Hughie, and he sighs.

“We’re just, we need some records. To know more of what happened, whatever you can share or tell us. So we know what not to do, how to keep you, uh, not on fire.”

You nod slowly, and focus on the breathing. In and out, slow and controlled, forcing the world back into a painful focus that’s only held together by a string. Keeping yourself on the earth, even if you had to fall and choke to stay there.

“I,” you take another long breath, and make yourself sound unaffected. Bored. Casual and completely fucking indifferent. “I get it. Okay.”

Hughie’s eyes widening, his face falling into a doubtful frown. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Hughie’s whole face relaxes, and his words fall out in frantic relief. “Thank God. Me and MM, we, um, we were really freaked out. After Vought on Ice. You looked,” Hughie pauses, voice dropping to a full mumble. “Not good.”

“MM and I.”

He blinks at you. “What?”

You shrug, pulling yourself up to unsteady feet. “MM and I, not me and MM. Just so you, um, just so you know.”

It doesn’t really matter, but it’s something to hold onto and think about that isn’t how you’ve freaked out the only people who seem to be able to tolerate you. And Hughie doesn’t seem that bothered—just giving an uncertain nod—even as Butcher scoffs.

“Well, you must’ve just been a laugh riot at fuckin parties-“

“I didn’t go to parties.” You mutter, taking slow, measured steps onto the cold floor and shooting Butcher a glare. “I was locked in a dungeon.”

If Butcher’s bothered by your words, he doesn’t appear it. He just gives you an unreadable look, puts his hands in his pockets, and says, “Save it for Grace, Love.”

You don’t know who Grace is, but you flip Butcher off and shuffle past Hughie to your box of clothing. Annie had gotten you some when you’d joined them, and you’ll never be more grateful for her prioritizing comfort over style. Especially given you seemed to burn through every other thing she bought you, you don’t have interest in simple, fun things like clothing anymore. You don’t have interest in most anything anymore. It’s all how can I help, and how do I make sure I never go back, and am I going to survive this?

Usually, the answer to that last one is yes. You’ll live through this, and find a small, pathetic, weak reason to keep going. A shred of hope to hang onto, to keep pushing and shredding yourself apart for, any single fucking reason to not collapse and scream and wither away.

They’re never sustainable. First it was food, but everything tastes bland and sometimes you don’t have the energy to even eat. Then it was sleep, but you never sleep. You always wake up screaming, often wrapped in fire, alone in the dark with nothing but the wide, cold office for company. Then it’s friends, or something close to friends, but fuck these people are complicated. Butcher’s an asshole that they all have their own weird dynamic with, and he treats you like vermin so you’re not exactly about to ask him to hang out with you. MM’s cool, but focused. Dedicated. No time for anything but finishing this, kind to you but weary of almost everything. Frenchie’s fascinating, but keeps trying to offer you drugs and you don’t think now is the best time to take up cocaine. Kimiko’s awesome, and she’s been teaching you how to talk to her and might be the closest to a real friend, but she seems to be preoccupied. With Frenchie, with her past, with the mission, and you’re not really something people prioritize. Annie and Hughie are sweet, but even more cautious than MM. Acting like you’re a stray cat they’ve let into their house, and they’re not really sure how to take care of you now. Annie buys you things, and Hughie offers you food or a crash course on the past three years, but that’s it. They won’t touch you.

No one will touch you.

And you understand.

You wouldn’t touch you either. If you didn’t have to splash cold water on your face or comb through your hair with your fingers, you’d keep your hands far from your body, or chop them off all together.

They’d grow back. Or you’d never get them off in the first place, because the skin would mend too fast and you’d only be torturing yourself.

You might deserve it. You do deserve it. So maybe, after this, you’ll see if you can cut off your hands. See if you can take away your limbs that only seem to be capable of destruction, see if you can claw out your eyes to never have to see blue eyes again. To spare yourself, selfishly, another memory charred birds and scorched grass and a beautiful, peaceful part of the world, razed by your lack of control. So you’ll be able to pretend that the forest is still beautiful, all green and bright, smelling like flowers and dirt and pine instead of ash, covered in light instead of shrouded in smoke.

Maybe when you’ll have no eyes, you’ll be able to exist somewhere beautiful in your head. Somewhere easy and safe, with all that sunlight and joy, but certain. It won’t be real, so it will be certain. You won’t be able to hurt anyone, when you cut off your hands and claw out your eyes—maybe you’ll carve out your heart as well, because right now every beat feels wasted and stolen—so things will be better.

But only after this is over.

Grace, as it turns out, is a thin-lipped, stone-faced woman who tells you to call her Mallory and gestures for you to sit across from her at a desk. Everyone’s here, mostly silent in the background, and you feel almost naked as you listen. Like an animal on display at the zoo, or a movie for them to watch. There’s a fluorescent light to the side of the desk that almost blinds your view of them, and you hate this. You don’t want to talk to anyone, or be anyone’s show, but you have to stay here. You have to pretend you’re fine and not made of poorly glued together pieces of paper, that you’ll be really useful to kill Homelander.

You need to be useful. And you don’t think you’ll stand being alone again.

So you plaster a small smile on your face, and give your full, slightly fuzzed attention to Grace Mallory.

She says your name, and you nod.

“I am she.”

Mallory tilts her head at you, looking almost amused in a very wolf-like way. “Of course. Why don’t we start from the beginning.”

You’ve told the story before in a million different pieces. In that shitty white van the Boys always drove, right after the graveyard, with only the brief held in captivity, medically abused and tortured, escaped. To different members of the team in vague detail, with small words of dungeon and fire and needles. As an explanation when you’d lost yourself with I can’t go back. He thinks I’m dead and if he realizes I’m not he’ll try and take me and he can’t take me. I can’t fucking go back, and I don’t know how to stop the fire and keep myself safe and I’m sorry.

And it was almost always met with pity. With a sympathetic, sad expression that told you they felt bad. That these people who had a career in dealing with fucked up shit felt bad for you, because you were just a small, weak thing that they needed to coddle. That they knew speaking to you—being near you—was as if glass had shattered over the floor and they needed to be careful to not let the glass cut them open, or force

This will be all of it, though. Almost all of it.

All that you can say aloud, without falling apart or becoming pitied in a way you don’t think you’ll be able to handle.

So you take a deep breath, and start.

“I, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but-“

“I am aware,” Mallory says, watching you carefully. “Of most of it.”

You pause, because this feels like a test, and something about Mallory tells you to tread lightly. That she’s not a woman to play games with, but also someone you can’t afford to be vulnerable with. It may be her stiff posture, or snake-like eyes, or how she holds her hands in a way that simply feels robotic, but it’s something, and you don’t feel human under her gaze. And you don’t like that. You don’t trust it.

So you need to be careful.

“Like what?” You keep yourself small and uncertain, and pretend you don’t see Mallory’s brows raise slightly at your question.

“I don’t believe it will matter if you start where I’d told you-“

“I don’t want to repeat things, waste your time.” You glance at the Boys, who are watching you and Mallory like you’re a dogfight. “We all have busy and, um, complicated lives. I just don’t want to take too much time.”

There’s a moment where you think Mallory might insist you continue, but she just looks you up and down with a glint in her eyes, and speaks in clipped words.

“You are a former Vought captive. You escaped about four months ago, and have been on the lam since. We were made aware of your existence by Queen Maeve, found you in Boston, and recruited you to our efforts. You’re a pyrokinetic with a healing factor, and you seem to have some form of PTSD in relation to Homelander that makes you…” Her eyes narrow on yours. “Unreliable in the field.”

You nod slowly, tapping your fingers on the table as you mutter, “I wasn’t a Vought captive.”

Mallory says nothing, but her gaze never softens as you continue.

“I was Homelander’s captive. I don’t even know how many people at Vought knew I existed. Obviously Maeve had an idea, and probably Edgar, but what happened to me wasn’t Vought. It was all Homelander. He kidnapped me, and kept me in a dungeon for, um,” something is stinging in your heart and stabbing in your skull—clouding everything in a desperate attempt to push memories of white and cold and pain down—but you force yourself through it. “His own uses. With my body.”

“His own uses.” Mallory repeats, and you taste metal as you bite through your cheek. “Such as?”

You swallow, forcing your attention to say sharp on Mallory. This will be an interrogation, there will be questions, and you’ll have to answer them. “Rape. At first. Then he moved me to a lab, and started experimenting on me with V. He shot me with it four times, and I got new powers each time. The first one was the healing. Others and I-“

“And others?” MM interrupts, frowning at you. “You can heal other people?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, giving him small smile you know looks pathetic. “But I have to touch them. And I, I can’t.” You turn back to Mallory. “That was the second one. Empathy. I can feel others emotions, when I touch them. And I can’t control it.”

Mallory hums, scanning over you in a way that makes you feel small. “Can you control any of it?”

That makes something shrink in your chest, feel a little weaker under your skin. “Sometimes. I can do the healing, but not the empathy. And the fire is, um, hard.”

“But that’s three.” Mallory says, and you know where this is going. You’re going to have to make a choice. “You said you had four shots.”

“The third one,” you pause, and decide to just fucking lie. Homelander doesn’t know, no one knows, and you don’t even trust Mallory with Homelander’s full intentions behind the rape. You’re not going to trust her with this. “Didn’t work. Nothing happened. It’s just three powers, and they’re pretty unrelated, so-“

“You’re the Anomaly.” MM mutters from the side, and you have to not flinch at the words. “Fuck, that does,” he looks to Mallory, and she’s still watching you. “It tracks, Grace.”

Mallory just nods, leaning over the table as she addresses you. “How long ago was this?”

“Maybe three years ago. They didn’t exactly give me a calendar, and I’m not exactly sure what day I escaped. It was around when they,” you tilt your head to Butcher and Hughie. “Were working with Solider Boy. I remember seeing that on the news, then his death like a week later-“

“He didn’t die.” Annie pipes in, and Butcher scowls, glowering at her.

“Oi, Starlight, she don’t need to know that-“

“If she’s staying, she does!” Annie snaps, holding Butcher’s glare. “It’s important, especially with Homelander’s relation to that old asshole-“

You frown. “His relation?”

“Solider Boy is Homelander’s father.” Hughie tells you, wincing slightly as Butcher’s glare turns to him. “And I, I agree with Annie. You should,” he between Mallory and Butcher. “She should know these things. They’re important, and I don’t really see the harm in her knowing, right?”

Frenchie nods. “Oui, it is not as if it will be consequential for her to know. Soldier Boy is in a deep nap, she is not, but it may be of,” he pauses, looking you over. “Aid to know what makes Homelander go-“ He makes a whistling sound, and Hughie nods.

“Exactly. I mean, with Solider Boy, it’s not like they’ll ever meet, right? Or like, talk. And if she’s going to stay-“

“We ain’t decided that yet, lad-“

“But my vote is she does!” Hughie’s voice is oddly pleading as he cuts off Butcher, and you don’t really understand why. “I think she could be useful! Just to like, heal us, right?”

“I’m with Hughie-“

Butcher rolls his eyes, cutting Annie off. “Ain’t that a shocker-“

"Well, I am!” Annie snaps, turning to Mallory. “My vote is she stays.”

Frenchie and Kimiko begin to agree, and you’re trying to focus on that instead of how they’d inadvertently revealed that they’d been considering getting rid of you instead of just poking your brain. You try to focus on how they’re trusting you with what’s likely top-secret information about Solider Boy—which you don’t really care about within itself, because what the fuck are you going to do with that knowledge—instead of how Butcher and MM seem to be unsure if you’re worth keeping around. In all fairness, MM seems more worried about your health, but Butcher seems to blatantly view you as a liability.

And you are. Everyone has somehow decided that you being smart and circumstantially helpful is worth how—with one wrong misstep or thought of Homelander—you might kill them all.

But Mallory gives in, says you can stick around to be a healer and extra set of hands, and that’s it. Butcher lost, and you’re part of this now. For good.

And that’s something. It’s a way to help. A way to not just be a body rotting in a white room or standing at a grave. It’s a way to drag yourself through blood and get everyone to an ending, even if you don’t see it. To offer the world a future where you’ll be covered in ash and nothing will matter, but everyone else will be safe.

You don’t really need to be safe, or happy. You just need to keep going until you collapse, and cut off your every limb until the world is happy, and crawl until they have a reason to bury you somewhere beautiful and alive.

End Note: Thank you to @thegildedblogger for the opportunity to make angst without being yelled at!

MM is God's Strongest Soldier, because can you imagine taking in a fire lady under the assumption she'll just help you kill Homelander, only for Her to immediately turn around and fall in love with your worst enemy? I'd cry.

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[thatsbelievable]

[sweetandglovelyart]

Knightfall in Dream Land - Page 4

Meta Knight shares what it was like to grow up being raised by Nightmare.

[joestarfucker420]

going from being ashton all week to being my legal name again is honestly one of the worst feelings in the world

[cuteniarose]

It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC

[exopelagic]

yknow i thought the whole ‘personal connection’ thing to politicians was kinda bullshit but my dad just told me the only reason he’s voting labour is bc keir starmer said he wasn’t working after 6pm on fridays to spend time with his kids and he respects that

[screampied]

‘ I JUST WANNA HEAR YOU (S)CREAMMM ! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. what’s your favorite scary movie? is it carrie? psycho? or maybe nightmare on elm street? perhaps picking up the phone was a bad idea, but you don’t scare easily! or do you?

wc. 6.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghostface geto & ghostface nanami, college au, threesōmes, unprotected, brief phone sēx, roleplay, dirty talk, praise, overstim, implied multiple ōrgasms, spit, manhandling, brēeding, hair pulling, oral (f & m receiving), cowgirl dp.

an. from this ask!

“hello.”

“hello?”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you deadpan, almost as if you’ve seen this movie before. it was around close to midnight. you were the only one sober at some random frat party you got dragged to. everyone besides you were probably wasted or shoving tongues into mouths. sitting up on a cushioned bed, you hold the landline up to your ear. “mean girls two. bye.”

“….girl what? that’s not a—”

you hang up, averting your eyes back towards the tv screen that displayed some cheesy soap opera. about precisely thirteen seconds pass before the landline screeches a loud deafening ring again.

sighing, you answer it. “stop calling this number. prank calls aren’t funny.”

“no.” the voice replies, and it’s very deep—you swear you’ve heard something like it before. a best way to describe it was that it had a gruff pitch to it, baritone running all underneath it. his voice was also a bit sly too. “i just wanna talk to you.”

“bother some other girl. bye.”

“don’t hang up on me.”

for whatever reason, you don’t hang up. his voice sounded a bit stern—you sit up before growing quiet. you’re fully alert now.

“good girl. now, i’ll ask again. what’s your favorite scary movie?”

pressing your back against the comforter, your thighs squeeze together. with another vexed sigh, you say the most random movie that comes immediately to mind. “halloween.”

“pft. basic.”

“wha— you’re the one who asked.”

“oh, doll i’m just joking. but anyway, you like slasher movies, yeah?”

for whatever reason, the more you talked to this total stranger, you start to feel a sudden uncanny stir delve around your stomach. you weren’t scared, yet at least, but it was oddly peculiar. his voice sounds a bit familiar the more you listen to it. with how teasing the caller on the other line appeared, it was strangely intriguing. you kind of didn’t wanna hang up anymore, besides this party you were at was quite … not the best.

“not really. i am a jamie lee curtis fan though, i only watched because i make fun of the deaths.” you mumble.

“hmmm,” the voice hums through the other end. it’s as if he’s pondering what his next choice of words will be to you. “so…you got a boyfriend?”

you were taken aback by how abrupt the change of subject was. the man on the other end laughs at your awkward silence before you finally speak.

“no, and it’s not like it’s any of your business.”

“easy, girl. i’m just curious. besides, what if i wanna ask ya out?”

you grow quiet again before rubbing your neck, you were growing a bit hot.

“whatever. no, i don’t have a … boyfriend.”

“ooh. you hesitated there.”

you grumble. “shut up. i’m hanging up.”

the man immediately replies with a chortle.

“wait, wait. heh, serious though. you never told me your name, doll face.”

with an eye roll, you utter, “why do you wanna know my name?”

“because i wanna know who i’m looking at.”

“what?”

“what?”

each word he spoke breaks through the phone due the deep mess of his voice. a few rough sparks from his dialogue punctures through the soundbox of the device. again, he did sound oddly familiar. you just couldn’t put your foot on it.

the man chuckles before responding in a more sly tone—changing the subject again.

“you know doll, you sound kind of out of breath. call me crazy, but before i called you, were you playing with yourself?”

your legs suddenly squeeze shut, you were wearing one of your borrowed hoodies and shorts underneath. any sane person would have hung up eons ago, but for whatever reason—you felt your heartbeat start to race. the more you listened to the deep voice on the other end, the more you started to grow more curious. what’s wrong with playing around for a little bit? besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen—you dying?

you scoff, thinking this was nothing more than a dumb prank call—you decided that playing along wouldn’t hurt. you had nothing else to do anyway.

“so what if i was playing with myself?”

“i bet you didn’t even make yourself finish, doll.”

his voice, the more it spoke in that rough pitched tone—you couldn’t help but press the landline up to your ear just a bit further. you furrow your curled up brows, lowering your guard a bit. probably foolish, maybe you’d regret this later, but alas, reality wasn’t on your mind at the moment.

“are you saying you can make me finish?” you mutter, growing amused now.

“oh i know i can. i can make you get off from just from my voice alone.”

he was toying with you, but it was too late to back down. you intake a honed breath before humming.

“okay, prove it then.”

he chuckles.

“mhm. take those panties off first. actually no, slide them to the side for me.”

you really felt like you were in a movie, shamelessly at this random guy’s beck and call. as the show played in the background, you press the middle part of your thumb against the volume button to turn it down four notches. the room was practically silent now, the only noises heard were from the blaring beat drops of edm music downstairs. sprawling your legs out, you creep a shaking hand between your thighs.

the voice grows quiet, you finally move your panties toward the side before slouching back against the pillow.

“you must be really bored. talking to a random girl at the m-midnight.” you exhale.

“heh, m-maybe,” he mocks your falter. “but i’m sure you’ll keep me entertained with that cute voice of yours.”

he was so smooth. smooth as if he was prepared for every word that flew out of your mouth. as your fingers glide against your now exposed entrance, you let off a shaky breath.

he was right, out of boredom you tried to play with yourself— yet, that didn’t work out because you could never make yourself finish. your attempt was basically useless. with a frowning pout, you reply. “now what?”

“finger yourself, silly. and i wanna hear, put the phone up against that pussy for me, doll.”

he was filthy.

you felt yourself start to throb before removing the landline from against your ear and placing it right against your doused entrance.

with heavy jagged breaths becoming more irregular, the person on the other line hears the wet sloshes of your cunt up against the phone. again, he grows quiet—it’s almost like you can make out his deep attractive breaths and it makes you pulse even more.

“bet you’re so nice ‘n soaked. sounds so sloppy.”

gnawing on the softness of your bottom lip, your thumb briefly skims past the nub of your clit and you whine. you were already a bit sensitive from before, starting to stroke your fingers against it. bringing the phone back up to your ear, you ease a single finger inside. it feels warm—you were slick, coating your own finger with a nice amount of your obscene arousal. it doesn’t take long for you to start to pant, slithering another finger inside of your cunt before moaning. it fits nicely, nice and snug.

“you sound so pretty. i want you to imagine those are my fingers, pretty girl. can ya do that?”

“y-yeah,” you start to stammer, feeling a sudden spongey texture inside of you—you gasp, not expecting to reach your sweetened g-spot so soon. it was a mere bumpy texture, gloopy gummy walls involuntarily accepting your two slender fingers with an open gesture. “fuck, ‘m still a bit sensitive.”

he guffaws lowly.

“yeah, i bet you are. poor baby can’t even make herself cum.”

you swallow, the playfulness in his voice making your thighs start to tremble a bit. with relaxed fingers stretching throughout your walls, you focus on your breathing. each pant that came out of your hot breaths seemed like it was gonna be your last. after a while, your toes start to curl up in pure pleasure—you moan, feeling a sudden rush of weightlessness nirvana overtake you.

“find your g-spot for me. tell me when you do.”

“i- i already found it,” you whine, a sheaf of nerves that store inside of your pussy pulsating at a rapid speed. your head throws itself back as you’re just moaning melodically. “fuck, why don’t you just come over ‘n finish for me already.”

the voice laughs again.

“yeah? you want me to come over instead? maybe i should use my tongue since your fingers are so useless, dollface.”

at this point, you didn’t really care. maybe making simple rational decisions today just wasn’t in your favor. the eerie voice, each second you spent listening to it the more aroused you became. maybe getting off to a pure stranger’s voice was embarrassing but you were feening. the air felt suddenly thick. so thick you could cut it with a knife. with your bottom lip being chewed on like gum, you briskly shiver. cold, wintry air wafts against your skin and you moan for the nth time. an unforeseen chill runs down your spine before you hold back yet another whine.

“f-fuck, just come ‘n finish for me. i can’t do it. please.”

he grows quiet for a solid good four seconds before replying in a cheeky tone.

“okay. turn around.”

your panting stops and instantly, you turn your head the other way—of course, no one was there. figures, the only things your eyes were met with was the wooden headboard. with a disappointed grimace, pulling your occupied fingers out of your cunt, you turn back around. as you’re about to speak into the phone again, you open your mouth before pausing.

there, you’re met face first with what appears to be some guy in an infamous ghostface costume. he was tall, staggering inches on him before you don’t see one but two. they both had the same getup, ghoulish ghost mask, a long black robe, and the same spectral, tilting head-stance.

one of them takes off a mask and it’s suguru geto, your roommate.

your eyes concisely widen. once he yanks off the mask, his silky well-kept black strands fly loose. no wonder the voice sounded a tad bit familiar. the other removes his mask and it was nanami, two of them—now you really felt like you were in a movie. “you always did say how much you liked scream,” and then you glance at nanami who had a sheepish expression. “don’t be shy now, someone’s gotta help ya finish.”

“o-oh,” you remember, sitting up against the bed. now you were embarrassed. just a few seconds ago, you were getting off to your roommate’s voice. suddenly, you felt even more hot. you did end up talking their ear off about your adoration for the beloved franchise, ranting about your cute little ghostface obsession.

truth be told though, you didn’t know they’d make it a sheer reality for you. the two of them get on the bed towards you before nanami brings a gloved hand to your chin. he strokes your chin softly, and geto moves underneath.

“sorry princess,” he whispers. “suguru wanted to scare you but i told him we should just show ourselves,” and as he’s speaking, you get lost in his soft, honeydew eyes. such gentle compared to geto who was a bit more—crazed. “he didn’t scare you too bad, did he?”

you moan once you feel geto run a thumb against your already exposed cunt. with a firm head shake, you huff. “no, n-not really.”

“aw what. i thought i was pretty scary,” and you whimper out once he blows against your folds. for a concise moment, geto stares up at you—dark eyes keeping a strong gaze on you. “tell us what you want, pretty girl. you want us to help you finish?”

you nod, feeling geto spread your legs apart further.

nanami, with a gloved hand purses your lips together, forming them into a tight squeeze before humming. “words, princess. use them, okay?”

the more you feel geto’s breath fan against your clit, teasing you—you were about to go feral. you stare up at nanami before letting off a sweet whine. “i- i want you both to help me finish,” you stutter out, stumbling over your pathetic words like you’d stumble with an untied shoe. “make me cum, please kento.”

he leans in to kiss your forehead and you hear geto scoff underneath. “i’m the one between your legs but whatever,” and you feel his soft lips kiss against your pussy. “kento, keep her distracted for me, will ya?”

“you’re so pretty,” he mutters, lightly lifting up your chin. as he wore black gloves—the fabric gently brushes against your lip, popping a thumb into your mouth. he doesn’t expect for you to happily take it in his mouth, sucking on it. “oh,” he breathes, a bit speechless. you stare into nanami’s eyes, swirling your tongue around his thumb in such an erotic way. lowly hooded eyes stare at him the entire time, you moan once you feel the flatness of geto’s tongue run against your sweet clitoral hood. his tongue—the texture of it was so cold, the moment he digs in he makes you know the pure definition of sloppy. all with his tongue, he slowly flicks it against your nub before delving his tongue deeper between your soddened folds. nanami pulls your chin to face him again before softly purring, “don’t look at him, look at me pretty girl.”

as your eyes focus back towards nanami, you could already feel your legs quavering. you felt hot, the lewd way geto drags his tongue against your pussy makes you gasp out three strained second puffs of air.

“k-kento,” you moan, pawing your hands at the low part of his robe. he watches, lowering his head at you before you reach there. nanami’s bulge, he has an abashed expression as he realizes what you were fondling at. “take it off.”

“ah, ask nicely,” he coos. your lips were now glossed with your own spit he smears against you as he pulls his gloved thumb out of your mouth. even though nanami was more tame than geto, his voice had a bit more dominance in it. he grabs your chin gently, cocking his head toward the side. “tell me what you want ‘n i’ll give it to you.”

your legs felt like they were standing on its last few hinges—geto’s tongue runs down your slit, taking a moment to depart his lips and spit on it, only to then lap it up again. a few annoyed grunts escape out of him partially due to his long strands of hair getting in the way. “so sweet,” he mutters, you whimper once he prods two fingers against your outer entrance. every few seconds he’d kiss near your thighs, leaving a few bite bite marks before focusing back towards your folds. “mhm.”

barely even able to keep focus, you gaze back up at nanami who’s standing near the edge of the bed—you’re laid back against the pillows with geto between your thighs. finally, a sweet mewl of words leave your glazed lips. “i- i wanna taste, ‘ken. wanna suck you off,” and he gives you a playful eyebrow raise, prying his pink lips open a few inches apart before you correct yourself. “pretty please.”

“better,” he murmurs, a hand of his reaching towards your head to give it a good pat. “good girl. go ahead, lift it up ‘n enjoy the meal.”

with a soft slackened sigh, you lift up the obsidian black robe. you’re met with ripped jeans, for some reason you just figured he’d already be sprung out for you. as geto’s still lapping up every drop of your taste, you unzip his fly before yanking down his pants. you were so impatient— and with geto’s demented pace, you were getting close. he chuckles, watching you struggle with the zipper for a bit before finally reaching near his boxers. they were a cerulean blueish color, his bulge was just appetizing. the entire shape of it, you felt yourself starting to drool the longer your eyes made direct contact against it. so rounded and full. with clammy hands, you tug them down before his thick cock springs out.

“it’s okay,” he whispers with a nod, watching you glance up him—a silent gesture as a way of asking if you could go further. nanami brings a hand towards the crown of your head, gingerly massaging his fingers through the crevices of your scalp. “you can be a little messy for me.”

a wretched whine that was raw rips from your throat once you feel geto’s tongue latch against your cunt. by now, he was sucking against your folds. the squelches were so sloppy, a hand of yours grab onto his hair for leverage and he shoots you a sly smile.

“don’t be shy girl, yank on it.”

dark pooled irises linger into yours for a long time before you get a good grip of geto’s hair, dragging him closer towards your entrance. over and over and over.

he giggles, hot breath ghosting against your folds and you throb even more. with dilated irises staring back towards nanami, you wrap your free hand around his length—he was so thick, such full balls that you just wanted to run your tongue all across it. he had a few veins skim down his beige, weighty cock. you could make out a few drops of lustrous pre-cum that decorates near his very tip. “u-ugh,” he shakes, the warmth that your tongue provides has him smothering his lips together. nanami watches, you’re slow but deadly.

pursing your lips together, you gradually start to sink him into your mouth.

geto’s still between your thighs, shoving two fingers in and out of you now—he surrounds your clit with his mouth, the suction he creates with just his lips was brutal. you’re moaning, even whilst your noises were pretty much muffled due to nanami’s fat cock. “easy,” he whispers, tapping a thumb against your cheek. “no teeth, okay? you’re doing s-so good.”

nanami groans, goading the same thumb against your cheek before you inch yourself further and further down. he has a shy smile at the way your hair forms in musses due to his tight grip. within no time, your throat’s already stuffed and few droplets of your own saliva trickles down the sides of your mouth. geto’s still making sure to thrust his gloved digits in and out of your soaked cunt and you don’t know which roommate to focus on.

“m-mphm,” was all you could manage out, your legs in a swift spread-eagle position. as you’re outstretched, you feel yourself about to cum. you’d recognize that feeling anywhere—the feeling when a swelling pool of heat residing inside your stomach tickles throughout your entire abdomen. that same feeling of nirvana courses through your veins as you’re now leisurely bobbing your head. every time you pull on geto’s long hair, he grunts—spanking your clit in response and that only causes you to whine for more. nanami strokes your face as he starts to feel his dick prod against the roof of your mouth. for a split second as you’re breathing through each nostril—you gag, long lashes fluttering in sync together.

your legs couldn’t hold still, geto’s continuously pushing you towards your limit before you whimper out. your tongue lathers over the splotches of pre-cum that paints nanami’s tip a pretty shade of snowy white.

he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, especially not with a face like that.

low eyes, sheepish smile, furrowed eyebrows. you’re convulsing profusely all in geto’s mouth, the sides of your thighs occasionally hitting against his face and he titters. “such a sloppy m-mouth,” nanami inhales deeply, and he starts to gently drag your head against his cock. he’s got your mouth filled with so many inches—your cheeks were all puffed up from his immense length, sheeny slobber emanating all down the sides of your mouth before he pants. “gonna make such a mess ‘n your mouth, princess. ‘s that what you want?”

you nod, feeling the vein that runs down his girthy cock twitch in your mouth. you moan, he’s feeling weightless—you’ve got his knees trembling, a hand’s still attached to your head like velcro before gyrating your tongue all over the crownhead of his shaft. “such a pretty face,” he gruffs lowly, swiftly pulling your hair side to side to take every inch. “s-shame i gotta ruin it a little.”

even nanami’s dirty talk was tame— it was cute to witness, the way his blond brows would tug into a furrow. he’s so pent up, and out of nowhere—you feel a sudden rush erupt within your cunt. before you could even react, you end up cumming hard. it shoots out of you like a rough wave, it’s such pure bliss that it takes you a few seconds to realize. geto’s making out with your pussy, slowly sliding his two protected fingers in and out of your sopping wet entrance and you shudder. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he hums, taking sight at how saturated you were. as geto laps his tongue against your folds once more, he stares back up at you and nanami. “aw. look at you two,” and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “slobbin’ everywhere, messy girl you are.”

your eyes go back up towards nanami, he’s sweating.

he felt as if the fabric of his robe stuck against his skin. while he’s holding it up with one hand, you sneak a stare at his abs, perfect washboard abs that looked quintessentially sculpted against his body. “g-gonna cum,” and he stares at geto, growing a bit flustered once all attention’s on him. “suguru, don’t just stand there. p…praise her.”

geto scoffs, kneeling beside you on the bed before moving a few strands from your face. “so bossy,” he grits before giving you your second head pat. he leans up close to your ear, grabbing the voice changer again and brings it up to his lips. “c’mon, doll. make ‘ken cum, yeah. doin’ so good for us. you’re gonna make him whine for you, heh.”

nanami’s legs felt like mush, he throws his head back, his long black robe syncing with his movements before he’s gently pulling your head against his thick cock. he shudders, welts of twinges close in on the undersides of his thighs before he finally finishes. it builds up gradually before you find him pouring into your mouth with a nice amount of parching hot cum. it’s hot, a good mass of satiny ropes coat the flat middle part of your tongue and you moan. “f-fuuuck,” he heaves through heavy lungs, it’s still trickling, you savor the taste. it’s bitterly sweet. he pulls out of your mouth before letting off a tremulous sigh. “good girl, f-fuck.”

“aw. don’t hog her, give me attention too,” geto sneers, softly grabbing you by the neck, making you face him. with his right hand, he squeezes your lips together with a rigid grip. “ah, don’t swallow yet. c’mere.”

with half-lidded eyes, you do—leaning into his touch before geto plants his warm lips onto yours. you’re caught by surprise for the umpteenth time today, prying your mouth open for him and he lolls his tongue down your throat. you let off a whine, feeling his gloved hands rub against every inch of your body. immediately, he tastes the candied flavor of nanami’s cum and it makes him groan. he didn’t even bat an eye—you return the kiss, feeling geto’s hand slither further down towards your ass. he caresses it, giving it a mean spank to make you moan out in ecstasy.

after a while, he pulls away, humming at nanami. “ken ken, don’t be so shy. you want a taste too?”

“yeah,” he mutters, needy eyes staring at your lips that were lubricated with your own sheeny spit. “can i?”

you nod, and he’s so gentle with you. a hand nimbly wraps around your throat before he brings you into a deeper kiss. geto’s still for his hands on you, strumming his fingers near your pulled to the side panties. you let off a soft pant, feeling the spiral of nanami’s tongue go against yours. he tastes sweet — savory even, his flavor was purely mouthwatering. a thumb drags down the passageway of your throat before he pulls away. it’s slow, a polished concoction of saliva departs from each mouth and you whimper. you were throbbing, desperate for more and they both knew that. if this— whatever this was was some sort of movie, you never wanted it to end. you never wanted the credits to roll because you felt like you were floating on cloud nine.

with the two of them, you were stretched in every way possible. if you could compare who was bigger, actually you couldn’t. throughout multiple positions, you felt as if you were gonna snap in half. they had you so stupid. pink tongue rolled out, full lungs of oxygen departing out such hot breaths of air, you were the definition of stupid.

cockdrunk at its finest. each orgasm that got ruthlessly snatched out of you had your head spinning, heart racing entirely.

you felt like something was creeping up behind your shoulder, chills. whenever you’d coax out yet another teeth-shattering orgasm, all you felt was stone cold chills. time after time, it felt like pure bliss—you thought you were in a whole new world, barely even able to move your thighs an inch. being sandwiched between the two of them, perhaps you were a little greedy but you just couldn’t get enough. geto’s degrading you whilst nanami’s whispering sweet pleasures into your ear, you’ve never felt more soaked.

you didn’t wanna stop—

currently, you’re straddling nanami. he’s got two rough hands gripping your waist, intaking every inch of your pretty physique. his stare sends you butterflies, his shaft was underneath you and only then pulls out. with a cute, “phew,” he swipes a sheet of sweat that expands across his forehead. you rode him so good that he couldn’t even figure out what to say. he was so flustered, tips of his ears a reddish hot before he watches geto creep behind you. “think she wants more, suguru.”

“bet she does,” he whispers, bringing a few sweet kisses near the inner corners of your neck.

you’re promptly sat up straight. the brief sounds of booming speakers roar from downstairs as you wrap your arms around nanami. geto licks near your collarbone before purring seductively. “say, doll. how ‘bout you try to take us both? would ya like that?” and with a gloved hand he gives your ass a squeeze. “wanna be the final girl ‘n prove your worth? our final girl?”

without an inkling of hesitation—you nod, mewling out a sweet, “yes, yes jus’ hurry up, sugu. ‘m still c…close.”

“so wet, so impatient,” he whispers once more, and with two hands he makes you sit up from nanami. you gulp—swallowing whatever sanity you had left, preparing to be quite literally double stuffed with your roommates. you aren’t so sure why, but the fact that they both still had on their ghoulish costumes made you pulsate a bit more. geto’s helping you slide back down onto nanami’s length before slowly making his way into you also. “god, you’re so hot in here. gonna fuckin’ swallow me whole.”

you moan, everything goes so slow—your cunt was a ticking time bomb. you clamp down on each before slumping into nanami’s chest. you’re met with kind eyes, he strokes your forehead before kissing the bridge of your nose, panting in a hushed voice. “eyes on me, princess. just relax.”

you wriggle a bit at the positioning—being on nanami’s lap, geto directly behind you, you’re quite literally being filled in every orifice by thick inches of cock. nanami’s words were soothing, filling up your tummy with a pool of fluttering butterflies. you keep your eyes on him, clenching down on geto a bit before you hear him hiss in response. “ugh. doll open up for me a little m-more, yeah.”

his voice was deepened heavily—you let off a cute gasp once they’re both finally in and a few shaky breaths exit past your lips. “hold my hand, i got you,” nanami coos, and that’s when geto starts to rock. he had more control between the two of you, the grip on your hips was firm and you let off a sweet babble. each individual entrance was stuffed, you swallow the invisible lump in your throat as you start to feel the sweltering friction of your thighs slap against nanami. “you’re so pretty like this,” and he kisses the temple of your cheek.

every kiss presented from nanami makes your heart race—being sandwiched between nanami and geto, you really did feel like the main character.

your lip tremors, grinding back and forth between each of them, you feel geto wrap his thick fingers around your neck.

whilst you’re still straddling nanami—you moan again and again, feeling a free hand of geto’s spank your ass. the stretch that you continuously felt had your mouth watering. you heard the harmonic pap pap pap’s until it rang throughout your ears. “fuck, ya like being stuffed don’t you, pretty girl? feel full enough?” geto rasps, pressing his body right up against you. you felt his hot temperature go against your skin. making you feel every amount of his heat. your brain’s swelling up with fog. giving him an inert nod, you hear him click his tongue. “didn’t say to nod your head, doll. i wanna hear that sweet voice.”

whenever geto lowers his voice a bit, you feel the abrupt tension arise between your legs. leaning against nanami, you whine out a, “hngh y-yesss, ‘m so full, sugu. want more, stuff me more.”

“let me stuff your mouth too then.”

and before you could come up with a reply, geto removes his glove—shoving your mouth with two fat digits. he grunts, watching as you’re so compliant with your throat being filled with his fingers. nanami stares at the entire scene in front of him, his dick idly twitching inside of you. your tongue runs down his fingers before your own spit starts to seep down the corners of your lips. it was messy—you were messy. your hips jitter and judder and you knew with having both holes stuffed you weren’t gonna last that much longer. it was probably the dozenth orgasm your pussy’s been introduced with and you could feel the creeping pleasure brew up inside your abdomen.

“suguru, ‘m gonna cum.” nanami groans, bringing his own hands to wrap around your waist. you lessen your tense from his touch before gagging a bit from the prodding of geto’s fingers way back into your throat. “she’s s-squeezing me so good.”

geto snickers, making eye contact with nanami. “are you? ‘ken, you’re more whinier than usual today.”

“shut up.” he grumbles, slapping a hand over his face in embarrassment — nanami wasn’t so known to be all flustered and abashed, but whenever he was, it was so cute.

you’ve still got a mouthful of geto’s fingers before he pulls them out only to shove them into his own mouth. he hums, sharp hips snapping into you repeatedly as his other free hand tightens its secured grasp around your hip. “mhm,” he groans, feeling himself reaching his peak also. “you taste like a final girl. so sweet like candy.”

with the piston of geto’s vigorous hips, you’re so loose that you feel the fleeting sensation of your cunt gaping.

its cavernous, you jerk forward against nanami before seconds later — geto groans, abruptly finishing two seconds early. even his moans were pretty, he tugs his fingers out of your mouth to wrap them around your neck. strands of black hair glue to his forehead and he puffs out a single breath. licking a stripe near your neck, he feels thick volumes of his cum ooze into your hole. it’s so sticky, you bring your hips to a slowing halt before nanami shoots inside you too.

“f-fuck, sugu,” nanami grunts, feeling his thighs stick underneath you. he was panting heavily, each breath that ran from his lips sounding more and more wearied. “damn, so m-much.”

everything spurts into you at once. they mirror each other inside of you perfectly. callused stubby fingertips of geto’s squeeze your neck softly, watching as you’re just being filled with bulky strings of cum, it floods your cunt until it drizzles further into your womb. you’re drooling, it feels so hot, sweltering hot. it sticks against your entrance before your arms wrap around nanami. “so f-full,” you whimper, and he returns the gesture by brushing his thumb against your waist. droopy eyes hang low before nanami pulls you into another deep kiss. you decided—this was far better than some dumb party. the cottony fabric of the ghostface robe pricks against your skin as you lean into his heinous touch.

you shift your weight against nanami’s lap, feeling geto pull out before he leans down between your legs. “spread your legs,” he mutters, and in the midst of your tongue roaming down nanami’s throat, you part your thighs—gasping once you feel geto’s own tongue lap against the freshly created mess. he makes little tiny licks, tasting the ropes of crisp cum that’s sloppily easing out of every entrance—you pulsate before he chortles, warm breath ventilating against your sobbing pussy. “so messy. don’t want any spillin’ out. gotta push it back in.”

you’re moaning, after a while you break away from nanami’s lips before he strokes your cheek lovingly, a cute drowsy look before he huffs, “did you hear me, pretty?” and he gently pokes your cheek. “you always do this..”

confusion hits you before your eyes suddenly open—you jolt up, both of your roommates beside you, gawking at you with a look of deadpan. you’re leaning against geto, the third movie of scream playing in the background—it was near the ending where the killer was being revealed. you sit up, staring down at your legs and you were fully clothed—there was no geto eating between your legs, no being stuffed with nanami, nothing.

“hellooo, earth to roomie,” geto waves his hand in your face, you stare at him before furrowing your brows. “you okay? you fell asleep on me again. what’s got ya so spooked? looks like ya seen a ghost.”

so it was a dream?

a mere glimpse of your lewd imagination—?

you have a sudden sheepish look, running your fingers near the nape of your neck. “huh. oh, i’m fine. i thought the movie would be over by now.”

nanami rubs your back. “we still have like twenty minutes left,” and then he looks at you with a concerned look. so gentle—so tender. “are you sure you’re okay? we can watch a rom-com if you want.”

“i’m okay,” you insist, slumping your head back against geto.

that was weird, out of all the dreams you’ve had throughout your life—none of them ever felt as surreal as that one. for some reason, you were still aroused though. you were a bit out of breath and felt chills run all over your body.

abruptly, your phone rings,

“sugu, can you pass me my phone?” you sigh, trying to relax. you were pretty bummed you weren’t at that party getting stuffed with your two roommates but instead—in your generic dorm watching a scary movie.

he hands you the phone, grabbing the remote to turn it down a few notches.

once you take it, succinctly, your eyes scan across the screen—it reads that it’s from an unknown number. not really thinking much, you decide to answer, swiping the green button to answer. “um, hello?”

“hello.”

“hi,” you rub your eyes. “can i help y-”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

rolling your eyes, you peer at your two roommates beside you, nudging them and peeling the phone away from your ear for a moment. “very funny, suguru.”

geto gives you a look of confusion and nanami mimics the same. he shrugs, averting his eyes back toward the movie. “very funny what.”

and suddenly you’re laid back, an unbelieving expression was expressed on your face as you were left with a weird feeling. if it wasn’t them then who—

that same chill eerily creeps up your spine before you put the phone back near your ear. it’s that same low voice you heard from before, each word it speaks pitches deeper before you grow quiet at its final haunting response,

“oh baby, i’m not suguru or nanami..”

[maccreadysbaby]

Some of My Favorite Ways to Describe a Character Who’s Sick

pressing their forehead into something cool or comfortable (this could be an array of things. the table, the floor, someones leather jacket, their water bottle, the countertop)

warm to the touch, or heat radiating from them (could be noticed if someone’s gauging their temperature with their hands, hugging them, or just generally touching them)

leaning into people’s touch, or just spontaneously leaning on them (like pressing into their hand when someone’s checking their temp, or just, like, literally walking up and laying their head on them from fatigue. bonus points if the character is usually feral and the other is scared to engage™︎)

falling asleep all over the place (at the dinner table, on their homework, in the car, in the bathroom — just being so exhausted from doing literally nothing)

being overly emotional (crying over things that don’t usually bother them, like their siblings arguing, or their homework, or literally just nothing)

stumbling/careening/staggering into things (the wall, furniture, other people. there is no coordination in feverish brains. running into chairs, hitting the door, falling over the couch, anything and everything)

slurring their words (could be from fatigue or pain. connecting words that shouldn’t be connected, murdering all of their conversations with the excessive use of ‘mm’ and ‘nn’ in place of words) (this is my favorite thing ever)

being overly touchy (basically like a sick kid — just hold them, please. do that thing where you brush their hair back out of their face, or rub circles on their back, or snuggle them. they won’t care. bonus points if this is also the feral character and they refuse to believe it afterwards)

being extremely resistant to touch (flinching away when they usually don’t so someone can’t feel the fever, not letting themselves be touched because they’re so tired they just know they’ll be putty in their hands if they do)

growing aggressive or being extremely rude (it’s a defense mechanism — they feel vulnerable and are afraid of being manipulated or deceived while they’re ill)

whimpering/whining/groaning (this was in my “characters in pain” post but it’s so good that i’m putting it here too. this shite is gold, especially if it’s just an involuntary reaction to their symptoms)

having nightmares caused by a fever and/or delirium (crying and murmuring in their sleep, or being awake but completely out of it and convinced they’re somewhere else)

making themselves as small as possible (curling up into a ball everywhere they lay, hunching over slightly when standing, wrapping their arms around themselves)

TW for vomiting below cut !!

sleeping in the bathroom floor because they keep getting sick over and over (bonus if someone finds them all weak and pitiful. bonus bonus if they find them there in the morning only to learn they’ve been there all night)

using their hands/other body parts to clamp over their mouth so nothing can come out (like pulling their knees up to their chest and using that, or like, their arm, y’know) (~maccreadysbaby who has emetophobia suddenly gets very awkward about this post~) (~yes i have a phobia of puke and still write this happening to my characters, shut up~) (~it’s about the hurt/comfort okay~)

sympathy pukers (people who aren’t the sick ones but get nauseous/vomit when they see someone else throw up) (~aka me~) (~okay I’m done now~)

dry heaving (it’s gross, but good for making your characters absolutely freaking miserable)

rolling/churning/spinning/cramping/ lurching and all those awesome words that describe what stomachs do when sick (i hate these words with a deep, fiery passion. but they’re good for writing or whatever)

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling

gn reader

When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.

You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.

If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.

So you do. The latter, that is.

Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.

You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.

But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…

In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.

He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody. 

Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.

He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.

You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.

And then he comes crawling back…

Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away. 

He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.

Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.

“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”

You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all. 

“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”

“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.

You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.

But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”

“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”

He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.

You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.

“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”

He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.

“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”

He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.

The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.

His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…

Nothing. There’s a large exhale.

“I can’t do it…” 

You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.

He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.

This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.

“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”

The pity’s for you.

“This is what having my heart feels like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[timmydraker]

Tim accidently referring to the Joker as Dad but those who know about Joker Jr aren’t present and so everyone is left with the ‘realisation’ that Tim is the son of the biggest nightmare to their family.

It’s probably Jason and Steph, her there to bother Tim but Jason went to the manor for food and the two naturally started arguing. Maybe Jason tells Tim to stop costing on his case and prove a point be made against blonde, but Tim just offhandedly goes, “Later, I think my dad broke out of Arkham again but the guards aren’t doing anything. Maybe they’re in on it…”

The two present naturally look at each other with confusion and for the first time stop bickering to peak over his shoulder and see what his case is because, holy shit Tim had a villain for a dad and didn’t tell us? Only to see numerous photos of the Joker in his cell and many reports over the last week of how he’s been behaving and Jason…

Steph pushes the man out of the room when she sees his face go from frozen fear to anger, thinking it’s towards Tim and his secrecy and, while she totally gets that, now isn’t the time.

Though when they get into the Jason starts a rant about how Bruce and Dick should have told him that the monster had a child, even if that child wasn’t Tim! Jason protects kids! Did they think he’d hurt him just because of who his father is?

No!

If anything, he’d become the kids full time body guard to stop that mad man from making Tim into another version of himself!

The two naturally go to tell the others, pulling Damian, Cass and Duke into a mostly unused room and telling them what they discovered, all while Tim stays in the library working on his case.

Cass is beyond worried but also confused because he doesn’t seem to have any physical characteristics of the Joker or Harley, but maybe the mother is different? Perhaps it’s still Janet and either she had a fling with the Joker or something far worse, which makes the young girl enraged on the woman’s behalf.

Damian makes a comment about him killing Tim, not in a serious manner but more as an option, but Duke shuts it down, saying that having a villain for a parent doesn’t mean anything about who you will be. He points out those in the family of that nature and other heroes like Superboy.

When asked why they didn’t get Dick or Babs involved, Jason says they defiantly know and lied about it.

It’s only after another three hours of working that Tim catches himself referring to the Joker as dad and shuts his laptop, making his way to Bruce’s room to hide under the older man’s bed like he usually does when that happens, only to overhear what his siblings are saying.

Tim presses his ear against the door to hear better.

“If that maniac had a kid, surely he’d have told everyone he had an heir or something.” That’s Steph’s voice, filled with worry that only he and Cass could detect as she hides it under a whiney tone.

Jason is next to respond, “maybe he doesn’t know? I mean, did Tim ever even interacted with him before he became Robin?”

It doesn’t take much more than that for Tim to realise that he must have been talking aloud again or absently answered someone earlier and misspoke in front of them.

Panic fills him as he avoids telling Bruce when he gets bad, even if it’s just a small thing, because the older man will start of being a concerned parent then go into Batman mode and only just stop himself from putting Tim in the confinement cell. Sure Tim came up with the idea of the cell so he wouldn’t hurt anyone if his conditioning got too bad, but he’s learnt the signs. He’s not a mindless drone, he still knows who he is and doesn’t hear someone talking to him or anything like that.

He just… sometimes forgets the Joker hurt him.

It’s not Tim’s fault that memories of watching TV with him and Harley, tucked between them with a big bowl of ice cream felt better than most memories of his real parents.

But he knows it’s wrong, always comes back to calling the Joker his enemy.

Bruce just doesn’t get that.

Tim hears them talk a bit more, theories about who his mother might be, if Tim is safe at the manor, if Joker knows he has a son…

Opening the door, Tim stands there and stares at them as all eyes snap to him in alarm.

He doesn’t let anybody speak, cutting them all off quickly, “He’s not my dad. Go the cave and search for file number 26557933301-JJ and put in the code AGELAST, all caps.”

With that he turns and leaves, walking at first before running to Bruce’s room to hide.

He goes to family dinner and pretends not to notice the quietness or how Jason is still there, eating his food quietly and waiting for the ball to drop.

Naturally, Damian is the one to say what he wants first, “So why is okay that Tim shot the joker but I got in trouble for stabbing Bane?”

Everyone groans.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.   

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

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