#also the sheer amount of time it took me just to sit and stare into beads to realise what i want to do.... ridiculous

[imerian]

✧ Celestino Vietti inspired necklace ✧

[aritsukemo]

The Oddities of Human Nature | Kabukimono

Kabukimono x Feminine Male Reader

Warnings: Wooo, where do we start? Major character death ( Reader ), implied suicide ( It's up in arms, but there are hints in the fic that reader may have drowned themselves in a lake ), self harm implied, sexual assault is loosely referenced ( only one sentence mentions it and I don't go into detail at all as to not trigger anyone ), themes of depression is referenced all throughout this fic, lots of blood is mentioned towards the end and I go into depth ( or try to ) in describing death so gore warning, the timeline is all fucked up but for the sake of the fic making sense, this takes place before Wanderer's three betrayals, reader uses they/him pronouns, finally, long story ( around 10k words ) under the cut. With all that said, happy reading!

A/N: This was a big hill for me to cross, but I'm glad I managed to do it! I juggled a lot of elements that I'm not familiar with so I'm sorry if this is all over the place. That aside, I found that a lot of the songs I listened while I was writing matched this fic pretty well! ( ..I also realized out that I maaaayyy have spilled a a little bit of myself and my personal struggles into Y/n, but don't read into that too much, okay? Okay. ) This fic is on the darker side of what I normally write, but I hope all who peep will enjoy themselves! :D ...Now I'ma go finish this finals project I got before I fuck up my grade-

Tagging: @nursedflowers / @kazusys, and @saioratral

Humans are odd creatures. They do things that may otherwise inconvenience them for absolutely no reason.

They could have a broken leg, but will still find the time to entertain friends by going out. They could be holed up in their room doing important work, but will still stop and greet their beloved when they arrive home. They could stumble upon a body in a lake and still fish it out and attempt to resuscitate it. It's strange, but what's even stranger are those humans. You know, the ones who would do things like that for a complete stranger without batting an eye.

"Are you alright?" A soft chirp echoed—one like a feather that surprisingly didn't get swept away by the harsh winds.

It was nothing like her voice.

Upon looking up, indigo hues fill with intricate floral patterns weaved delicately in a circle. Its varying colors twist and intertwine, filling the circle and providing shade and leaving those who fall under it to marvel at its beauty—which didn't soil or gray despite the downpour of rain that hit it.

That said, having been completely consumed in the art of the umbrella, it took another soft call to snap out of the trance..only to be sucked right back into it upon gazing up.

 "I noticed that you have been sitting in the rain for quite some time now. That isn't healthy, you know?" Their voice matched their features; smooth like a porcelain doll, but not nearly as tough as one; gentle, just like the silk that covered their body.

 "Do you have nowhere to go?" Upon hearing the question, the boy’s lips—which were formerly tucked into a neat line—dipped. It was unnoticeable against his pale skin, but the tender eyes that stared down at him seemed to be sharp like a hawks' and noticed it right away.

 "I suppose that means yes."

Their hand reached out to him after saying that and he found himself leaning away instinctively, making him susceptible to the sky's sorrow which drowned his already slick hair in even more chilling rain.

He's immediately saved again, and this time, he was able to watch his savior in action as they tilt their hand, tilting their gorgeous artwork forward enough to completely shield him again albeit at the cost of their own protection.

The rain took pleasure in dousing their hair, deepening it's color a little from the sheer amount it intakes. Ultimately, it's unable to take all of it and falls down on all sides, dripping down their skin, their eyelashes, nose, and lips, to where all the water meets at a point at their chin and drops from it to the wet soil at their feet like a leaky faucet.

Nevertheless, he watched a smile stretch across their face. A sight that he had begun to believe could only look so beautiful on a wandering snow spirit.

 "Please, young sir. Come with me. I have a place that could shield the both of us from the rain for the night.."

And in a trance, he—though tentatively—reaches forward and puts his hand in theirs. The warmth that touched him in that moment immediately shattered the illusion that hypnotized him and he blinks upon finding himself being tugged along by the hand. It brought on a perplexed swirl in the abyss he called a stomach and spurred him to ask the golden question, "Why are you doing this?"

And that question earned him another golden smile, unfortunately only for a quick second when they glanced back at him. It was never answered, and despite that, it didn't bother him.

Nothing did in that moment as the only thing he could focus on was the heat that spread throughout his hand which radiated from their palm.

Humans are odd creatures. They go against the purposes given to them at birth for the simplest reasons.

 "You're a man?" Was the question that filled the silence, his words filled with his almost accusing tone at the face of their casual confession.

You didn't mind, putting on the smile of a saint as tanzanite hues scrutinize and judge you as if you were some complex painting in a museum.

 "Yes, I am," You answered simply, and he once again, eyes you up and down with eyes full of disbelief. As if you had just revealed that you had a second head or something. You weren't offended. Compared to the other stares you've been given in the past, his seemed rather merciful.

 "Why do you dress like that if you're a boy?" He asks after a while; another rather offensive question that he asks with utmost innocence.

 "Because it makes me feel nice," You reply simply, and to that, your new friend looked utterly perplexed. As if you had just given him intricate, complex instructions on how to defeat the shogunate. From that reaction, you assume he was probably raised in a rather conformist household.

That said, his genuine confusion felt like a breath of cool air hitting your face after venturing days in a scorching desert, as sad as that is to admit.

 "Where are your weapons? Your armor? Your mannerisms and speech let me know you come from a noble home, so where are your servants and concubine? What do you do for work?" He shot out questions as if he only had a few grains of sand left in his hourglass. It was like he feared that if he didn't ask all his questions now—and all at once—he'd never get an answer to them. Not that you'd be so cruel as to leave your curious new acquaintance so bewildered.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't have any such means of protection," You start off slowly, but as your eyes trail down at the two needles in your slender hands—needles which had thin threads of silk woven around the points of them—you found yourself chuckling to yourself, "Though if you'd ask my father, he'd tell you that my reason for that is because I lack the determination and courage to tread the path of a proper warrior — He was a high-ranking samurai for the majority of my youth, you see.."

"As for the servants and..consorts…they're really not my thing. I find bossing someone around and using people to flaunt my own status and wealth to be rather brutish. Though, I will admit I'm quite familiar with the practices. Heh, I was practically raised by my fathers' wives and female servants growing up. Maybe that's why.."

You pause, and in the end, you shake your thought away instead of voicing the rest of it aloud. It wasn't important to the conversation at hand anyways.

 "Digressing from that, my ways of making money aren't as noble as my family's either. In fact, one would say it's quite pitiful in comparison; once a week, I go out into the nearby town and I sell my creations. Stuffed animals, knitted clothing, excess crops, and the like. I don't make all the money in the world, but I make more than enough to get by as you can see," And you flick your wrist absentmindedly at one of the corners of your room, mindlessly gesturing at whatever filled the space to better prove your point.

Your guest had been struck silent once again. It seemed he was still rather muddled. You understand it. Like many you've encountered, you were probably an enigma to him, one willing to go against all that has been taught and practiced for centuries just because of simple ideations and pleasures that someone such as yourself should never enjoy in the first place.

..Or so you thought. As you gazed up at your guest, his face made you unsure of what he was truly thinking at that moment. It was something you hadn't seen before—unlike those judge-filled, disgusted, and even pitiful gazes you had been given by many in the past. It sparked your curiosity, causing you to ask him the golden question that had laid dormant at the back of your mind.

 "Does any of this.. Do I bother you?"

His response came delayed, but you found his answer that came more valuable than actual gold. More relieving than any cool breeze or sweet treat. More rewarding than any war won or title granted. More comforting than any of the stormy nights that distracted you from your whirlwind of thoughts.

And, oddly enough, such a response was quite simple. Only three words, in fact.

 "Not at all."

Humans are odd creatures, but they can be patient and forgiving at times. Plus, being the warm-blooded creatures that are allows them the blessing of a naturally-warm, comfortable body.

 "Crap," The cursed utterance left the lips of a mouth who's felt nothing but the bitter tang of frustration coat its tongue all afternoon. The uncivilized profanity did nothing to soothe the taste in his mouth nor did it smoothen out the crinkles made by his furrowed brows. It didn't even relieve the tremble of anger in his blood-pricked hands or the aggression of his movements as his fingertips worked a string of tangles with the needles he was holding.

Knitting is awful. How do people find this relaxing? Ever since he's started, he's felt nothing but vexation, pain, and embarrassment! Not only that, but he's made zero progress after so long that he's practically forgotten what he was supposed to be making in the first place! He hates—no, despises this with his entire being!

 "Having a bit of trouble?" He heard you ask, and somehow, half of his stress fell away like a slab of rock on the side of a mountain just from hearing your voice. He doesn't get why you have such powers over him seeming as you're a complete stranger. ..Was your voice charmed by some kind of magic perhaps? Were you possibly a god in disguise?

Whatever the reason was, he found himself praying that you never stop talking if he were to ever find out.

 "Here, let me show you a trick," Your breath was fanning his ear before he knew it and your skin was warming his shortly afterwards. He froze in place, still and quiet unlike the noisy rainwater he can hear descending from the skies outside—the rain that has kept him trapped here for literal days now.

He's not complaining.

It was only when your palms found place against the back of his hands that his body relaxed. Your hands were soft unlike the many generals and the blacksmiths he had met before his forced abandonment of his previous life. It felt nice. As if flower petals were cradling his hands.

You smelt just as good as a flower too. He had never been this close to you before so he hadn't noticed it, but now that his back is to you like this..it was as if he was laying in a flowerbed.

Do men always smell this good? He doubts it. Most likely, this scent was completely unique. A fragrance only you could naturally produce. Archons does he wish—

 "—and that's how you do it," He blinks, snapping back to reality where he stares down at the cloth now weaved together with expert precision to form a bunny's ear.

You had helped him make a breakthrough at last..and he had been too busy daydreaming about how it would feel to be hugged by you to watch and learn how you even did it.

..But he doesn't feel regret looming when the realization comes nor does his annoyance return. Or maybe it has and it just hasn't set in yet. He can't tell right now, not when he's feeling as if he had just been warmed by the sun after being frozen for a millennia.

 "Alright, now you try," He hears your words, but they don't process as fast as your hands leaving him does. Nothing really processes quicker than that. Not his frown. Not his disappointment. Not anything.

But not processing something doesn't make it unclear to others. Upon seeing his downcast expression, your brows quirk up in confusion.

 "Is there something on your mind, my new friend?" You inquired, but your question is never answered. Instead, you watch as his saddened eyes turn owlish and his head spins in the opposite direction of you as he mutters something under his breath.

 "I'm sorry, but can you repeat that?" You asked softly, leaning closer in order to hear him better.

 "Can you..show me how to do that again. Please.." He repeated, and in doing so earned the harmonious gift that was your chuckle and the warmth of your hands on him once again.

 "Sure. So what you do is.."

Humans are odd creatures. They'd sacrifice countless hours of their already short life, go to ridiculous lengths doing things, and even put aside their fragile well being to do things that are completely irrelevant just because of their belief that what they do will make someone happy.

 "I'm back!" The sweet chirp of your new housemate—which you and the villagers of the neighboring town have begun to call Kabukimono— echoed through the small abode of your now shared home after not having the pleasure to in about three days or so.

After moving in a week prior, Kabukimono had been adamant on pulling his own weight to prove that he was worth keeping around despite you having the compassion to allow him to be a freeloader otherwise. That said, after your own clumsiness in the field left you with a sprained ankle, your kind new friend had offered to go out and sell all of this week’s goods on your behalf and how could you refuse such an offer when he looked so happy and eager to help out little ol' you?

Well, the real answer to that was that he gave you no choice in the matter, but you digress.

 "I'm in here," He heard you call from the kitchen and he immediately set off in that direction, just barely remembering to slip off his shoes at the door from how eager he was to see you.

If it wasn't obvious already, it had taken some time—both the journey to and from the village and the actual process of conversing with people and getting them to buy everything—but he believes he did pretty good. At the very least, everything was sold. He even managed to make enough to buy you something with some of the excess money!

 "Y/n! I got—! ..Huh?" His words died as quickly as his pace as he stilled to a full halt at the entryway. His eyes grew wide bit by bit as he took everything in.

Banners of silk and thread had been strung along the walls, flashing their abstract patterns of blue and purple at anyone who'd spare a glance. Candles—which are usually set alight atop your nightstand and bookshelf in our room—now clumped and coddled on the table like one big sun with the varying foods surrounding them posing as the stars that helped light up the wooden sky they sat on.

But such a beautiful display was only given a moment's glance as Kabukimono seemed more interested in what you thought was a less-than-average sight; yourself.

Nevertheless, the adoration you felt seeing the sparkle of surprise in his eyes—even if for only a second or so—made you crack a smile as you recited the line you had gone over just about a million times during the time you spent waiting for him to arrive.

 "Welcome home, Kabukimono."

He was at a loss for words and not for the reason you wanted him to be. With the intent of easing his perturbed shock, you walked towards him, steady and slow, but all that proved to do was snap him out of the spell your heavy eyebags and dreary, drooping eyes had put him under.

 "What is all of this? And more importantly, why are you standing? You're not supposed to be putting pressure on that ankle!" He quickly met you the rest of the way, and to your dismay, he had beat you to the comforting, his hands shooting out to grip you by the hips and ease your bandaged leg of your body's weight.

Ignoring his other questions, you began explaining, telling him, "It's a celebration feast. You told me yourself that you, along with not having a name, you haven’t had a home to call yours yet. I thought it would be good to make an occasion out of you finding one at last."

Kabukimono felt bad to admit this even in his own head, but your words were going in one ear and out the other. Yes, he had asked, but you weren't giving him answers to the other questions he simply found more important at the moment, and because of that, it caused his face to look rather tense. Certainly not cheery like you had hoped.

It seems you have made a mistake. It wasn't a surprise, it was you after all, but the thought still hurt considering how much time it took preparing for this moment.

And so, in an attempt to lighten your thoughts and the overall mood, you ask him, "Aren't you happy?"

And unfortunately, your dear housemate didn't answer in the way you had wished he would, instead replying with, "Why would I? You look like you're about to drop dead!"

 "I'm fine," You said; a futile attempt of reassurance when you probably looked like a Sumerian Akademiya student who just finished pulling an all-nighter to write a one-hundred page research paper.

 "As if!" Kabukimono said. That's when he slung your arm over his shoulder, forcing your bodyweight onto him without your permission, and began trudging you along in the direction of your room.

 "What're you doing—" "Taking you to your room so you can lie down like you probably haven't been doing!"

 "Seriously, you should take better care of yourself! Don't tell me this is normal for you.. If it is, I won't be able to let you out of my sight from now on!"

In the end, both the feast and Kabukimono's gift for you had been forgotten. Even though you ended up enjoying it later, your sadness about the initial surprise being ruined was hard to get over even with the delight of a new hairpin being added to your collection..

Humans are odd creatures. Their inability to do much makes them become overawed by the simplest things. Their eyes shine just from seeing a coin flipped in an unorthodox way and they clap and gasp watching the stars twinkle overhead. It’s so nice to see stupid.

 “You know how to dance?” The excitable question left your usually composed lips as you stared at Kabukimono with stars in your eyes.

 “Well...I used to perform sword dances so I suppose yes,” He clarifies, arms crossed as he stared off at the wall to his left with full interest. His azure eyes darkened as if someone had pulled wool over them only to light up like a room to an oil lamp at the question that followed his response.

 “Can you show me?” The way you asked him reminded him of a little kid asking their mother to buy them a toy; full of innocent expectancy. It made his lips thin into a line just hearing it.

It had been ages since he’s danced, and in the past, there weren’t many who gawked at or praised him for his moves. Not his mother. Not any of her servants or soldiers. Certainly not her familiar. At the time, he hadn’t cared about their reactions much at all, seeming as the purpose of his dancing wasn’t for frivolous entertainment, but you, however, were different. You weren’t his mother who had abandoned him. You weren’t the servants or soldiers who never spoke to him. You aren’t his mother’s glaring familiar. You’re you, and the thought of seeing such a lackluster expression painted on your face puts a bad taste in his mouth. It makes him gnaw at his bottom lip from the feeling of a wave rocking unsteadily in his stomach cavity. It made him feel..anxious.

 “Ah..” His mouth felt like chalk—uncomfortably dry—as he spoke and his eyes couldn’t remove themselves from the walls he was surely burning holes into with his nervous glare as he tried to find something—anything—to refute you. He, at last, does and sputters it out in an uneven tone, “But..you aren’t going into battle though.”

You hum in acknowledgement, and for a moment, he thought he could successfully negate you from the topic, but then your lips move to say, “Sword dances are to summon strength, right? Though they’re performed for battles, war isn’t the only thing that requires strength. Farming, cooking.. Even getting out of bed in the mornings needs some strength to complete. When put in that way, don’t you think I’m in need of just as much strength as one of the Shogunate’s men?”

 “We- Well, a typical sword dance requires a sword and a fan and we don’t have anything like that lying around the house,” He shoots out. His brows knitting at the odd feeling of his skin damp with moisture he wasn’t aware he could produce before now.

 “I do have a fan,” You retort, “It’s mainly preserved for hot weather, but it'd be perfect for this occasion! And for the sword..ah! Would a wooden stilt suffice? It’s a little longer than the typical sword, but if I were to shave it down a bit..”

 “I..” He looks at you, face uncharacteristically spooked as he repeats himself, sounding like a broken record at this point, “I.. I..” but you don’t pay it much mind as your excitement gets the better of you and you chalk up his reaction as pre-performance jitters before running to find the items needed, leaving Kabukimono no choice but to watch helplessly like some baby kitten.

In the matter of an hour, he was outside. His body donning one of your many creations while holding a summer fan and wooden stick that didn’t come close to matching anything he was wearing. You—smile etched on your face despite feeling as though you were being stabbed all over—sat a little aways from him on the white cushions that had completely covered the green grass, patiently yet eagerly awaiting for the invisible curtains to rise and for his feet to begin to move.

Despite the biting cold, his hands were slick with sweat, forcing him to grip the wood and fan with inhumane force as to not drop it. His breath came out thick and labored, freezing over immediately upon leaving his lips and ultimately coming out as puffy, white clouds. His only saving grace here was that his feet were firmly planted into the dirt circle you paved out just for his little show. It was even rid of the transparent icy layer; an astonishing feat to be done in so little time.

Even from where he stood, he could see the reddening of your face and hands. The slight tremble of your limbs.. You were freezing to death, that much was certain, but you didn’t care. That’s just how adamant you were to see him perform.

And so, feeling as though he had no other choice, he began. His feet started to glide, starting slow as did his arms—languid and mesmerizing—before it began to pick up just a little whenever he’d twirl or spin or hop. He was sure his movements were sloppy, that his improvision to the original dance he was taught shone through like a stain to white cloth..but as he snuck a glance your way, he found himself uncaring.

..Because the way you looked at him was as if you were gazing up at a god who had just saved your life; amazement brightened your hues like comets in the sky as you followed his every move, utterly enraptured by him. He had managed to evoke that from you. Only him.

Ironically, he had found he himself charmed by your expression and microexpressions. Completely hypnotized as he slid and flowed around the small circle, his clothing–the clothing you had gifted to him—fluttering like angel wings which only further added to the beauty of each swing he took with the stick.

But alas, as the dance went on, Kabukimono found himself going into autopilot. Simply going about the motions as he took every chance possibly to glance your way, his eyes like a distant memory—a past life—whenever they locked with yours..

Humans are odd creatures. Deceptive by nature too. Without a perceptive gaze and trained ears to catch onto their lies, they could make you believe anything as the truth.

 "Hey, Kabukimono, could you pass me the carrots I cut up over there?" You asked, using your head to gesture over in the direction of where you had left the cut carrots on the low table. Kabukimono jumped to your request; crossing the kitchen, picking up the bowl, and walking back over to where you sat comfortably at the kotatsu in record time.

He hands it to you, and with a flick of your wrists, the orange delicacies had joined the rest of the vegetables in the boiling pot on the table. Kabukimono sits back on his knees as you do this, taking comfort in propping his elbow up on the wooden surface before laying his head on his fist as he watches the slow travel of white steam erupt from the pot into the air. His eyes like staring on like a dormant beast at the boiling vegetables crackling as he sighs dreamily at the smell of heaven they produce.

He didn't need to eat. He had told you that at some point in time along with other things, and yet, you had somehow trained him to yearn for food regardless—to salivate when he saw a tasty-looking dish and even grow excited at the thought of what to cook for dinner. It was such a mundane thing that was once so foreign to him. Such a human pleasure and yet he so eagerly partook in it regardless. All because of you. All for you.

Another thing he does because of you now is small talk. Before, if there were silence between him and another person he'd embrace it without a second thought and wouldn't leave that comfort unless forced to—and even then, only a select few would actually elicit a response from him. Nowadays though, it seems he grows quite restless whenever words aren't filling the air. Though, this applied more so with you than anyone else.

 "How did it go in town?" He asked, "You were selling those new cat-shaped stuffed toys you worked yourself ragged making..so? Did anybody like them?"

To such a simple question, your reaction was bewildering. The way your grip tightened on the ladle, the narrowing of your eyes and brows, the tut of your lip.. It all gave a bad vibe.

And so he frowned and asked, "Did they not like them after all? ..Or did something—"

 "It's nothing," And you presented him a closed-eyed smile, both your expression and your grip on the ladle relaxing as you went on to further say, "I just..thought about this girl I met at the villager. I assume she was an orphan from her attire and the way she followed me around without a care.. Anyways, she ended up tripping and hurting her knee pretty badly so I gave her one of the cat plushies, free of charge.”

 "Anyways, the food is ready so let's drop this topic. After all, we don't want it to get cold," The topic changed as suddenly as it came. Odd, seeming as how you're usually rambling all afternoon and evening about your travel to the village, sparing absolutely no detail about even the tiniest things.

The thought lingered for a time, but as he watched you stuff your mouth and saw your eyes shine joyously at the wonderful flavor that coated your tongue as you began to ramble about your relief about the dish turning out good despite this being your first time trying out the recipe, that thought eventually fluttered away with the wind that came through the crack in your sliding doors that allowed more of the evening oranges and yellows to seep into your home.

You were probably just really hungry and eager to eat, he thought as he finally took a bite of the potato he had picked up with his chopsticks, his eyes closing as he hummed out in delight at the taste.

Unbeknownst to him, your face dropped as soon as his eyes closed, your eyes uncharacteristically fogged and dull, as if it were displaying the thick fog that shrouded your mind, your thoughts, your heart. It was a fog that Kabukimono never caught on to, blissfully unaware of what stained your mind, body, and soul.

Humans are odd creatures. Their outside appearance never matches how they feel or the thoughts that poison their mind. They never voice those thoughts either, making it impossible to guess what’s truly going on with them. There are some who’d bless you with a morsel of their inner world—give you a crumb of the turmoil that constantly leaks in their head—making you feel as though you’ve truly come to understand them when in reality, you haven’t even scratched the surface.

It was the middle of the night. The once navy blue sky that had overcasted the world when the sun first fell was now dark due to even the stars going into hiding to slumber, leaving the moon as the only beacon of light to shed away the shadows. It was pitch black everywhere you turned and cicadas buzzed loudly outside, likely complaining about the sweltering heat of the summer, making it impossible to even hear yourself think. It was like some mundane hell.

So why were you out here?

It happened by chance. He had heard some odd noises and went to investigate it. Not expecting to see a silhouette walking out of the door. Thinking it was some thief, he followed after the person, and as the sounds of the cicadas grew distant and an earthy smell invaded his nostrils, the silhouette became less and less obscure. Becoming as clear as day by the time the person had reached their destination.

That person was you.

 “..What is this place?” The question came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his words loudly piercing the quiet of the night. It alerts you of his presence at long last and has your head spinning in his direction.

 “Oh.. It’s just you, Kabukimono’.. Heh, you scared me,” You said. Your head turns forward once again as you force your shoulders to relax, allowing the basket on your back to slide down your arms and to the ground. As you slowly set yourself atop the gentle grass, Kabukimono takes a step forward. Then another, and another, until he’s right beside you, who was digging for the items in the basket.

After a moment of silence allows you to, at last, gather everything needed out of the basket, Kabukimono decides to ask his question once again..or he planned to. As he opens his mouth to let his words free, your voice breaks the silence.

 “There used to be a small village here,” You told him, your hands beginning to twist two long stocks together, “If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

 “The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..” You laughed, but it was drier than any desert depicted in the novels in your room. It felt wrong to hear—kinda like hearing a baby’s cry come from a grown man—and it felt almost unnerving to have it come from someone like you, who he’s come to associate with the sun itself.

But you were probably really tired. Looking at you, the deep bags that hang your eyelids down indicates you probably haven’t gotten much sleep lately which makes sense seeming as you’ve been running around and, as you told him, ‘preparing’ for something really important.

He wonders what it is you’re preparing for. Whenever he’d ask, he’d never get an answer..

 “This lake, though bound by the earth to this one place, saved that village so many times that the townsfolk began to believe that some powerful being was secretly living in the depths of it and protecting them. They began to idolize it, nurture and take care of it, and spoke about it as if this little lake was some otherworldly deity which created tall tales and legends that they’d go on to tell their children…believe it or not, I once took part in such absurdity.”

 “So..what happened to the village?” Kabukimono hesitates to ask. After all, the obvious context clues pointed him in a tragic direction, but he couldn’t resist his own curiosity in the end. Not when the look in your eyes—that were lit by the lantern of the water’s ripples—reflected nothing but pure sorrow.

At his question, you took a glance his way. As you broke away from the lake that practically glowed in the moonlight, your eyes were stripped of the illuminating gleam of the waves and casted into the darkness of the night. In fact, if it weren’t for the lake, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see your face at all.

Part of him wished that had happened. If it did, he wouldn’t have been forced to stare into the abyss that had overtook your hues for those small handful of seconds.

 “The lake failed them,” You finally spoke shortly after returning your gaze to the water, “A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

 “No one knew how it started. After all, fire wasn’t anywhere close to being the most accessible resource they had. It was a luxury, even. It also never spread past the village and by sunrise, it ceased to exist altogether. The oddity of the situation made the survivors believe that it was some punishment from their lake deity,” As you went on, you had been weaving the strands until one end had connected to the other in a circle—though your sloppy craftsmanship caused it to look more like an oval in your opinion.

As eyesore of a sight it was, you persisted. Your hands reach for the clipped flowers beside you, "That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad,” Kabukimono watched as you spoke, sticking flowers in one by one and twisting it into the circle, making the dank green pop with each pristine white you carefully placed around it.

 “Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

The story seemed like something straight out of a fairytale. Nonsensical like a myth that he usually wouldn't believe...but the same could be said about his very existence. With that in mind, who is he to be so narrow-minded? He decided to keep his thoughts to himself, locking them tight behind his lips as you continued.

 "The lake failed them. It made a fatal mistake. Saved not one villager from that fire, yet nothing changed. Not their love nor their devotion..if anything it only made them see this lake in an even more divine light...so why didn't the same happen for me?"

The tail end of your sentence made him perk up with unease and as his brows knitted together, Kabukimono opens his mouth as he worriedly asked—or rather, attempted to ask, “What do you mean—” but you shifted the topic faster than he could get the full sentence out.

 “ Do you remember the tales I would tell you about my childhood—my brother specifically? ..I ran into him some time ago while I was out selling in the village.”

 “Whether they wanted to seize from me the goods I was selling that day—or perhaps mistook me for a woman and wanted to have their fun with me as some men have in the past—they began harassing me quite aggressively,” You started, “They bothered me for quite awhile and grew progressively violent the more I tried to politely get them to leave me be—one of them even snatched me up by the wrist. That’s when he intervened.”

 “He didn’t recognize me, not that I’d expect him to. After all, I’ve changed a lot since we were kids..and it seems the same went for him as well,” After placing all the whites of innocence, you went on to grab your smaller, yellow sundrops, your hands meticulously working them in between the white flowers as you continued talking in a cheerful tone. 

 “Though it’s only been a decade or so since I’d last seen or spoken to him, he’s already been through so much. He told me himself, you see, that he had just returned from the war and was passing through villages trying to find a suitable gift.. Can you guess for what?”

 “I don’t know..maybe your parents?” Kabukimono guessed; the wrong answer. You didn’t give him another chance to theorize.

 “It was for his wife and daughter,” You corrected, and if once wasn’t enough, you repeat yourself, “He was returning home to his wife and four year old daughter and wanted to get them something special.”

Gaining the courage once again, Kabukimono attempted to question the point of this conversation in the first place by asking, “What’s wrong with that?” He grew hopeful at first when you allowed him to get his words out. Maybe, at last, he could get his questions answered, he thought.

He thought wrong.

 “He’s really tall now, you know? —I mean, he was always taller than me, but now he’s like a tree! When we spoke face to face, I had to crane my neck all the way back to look up at him,” His question is, once again, ignored as if he never asked it. He began to frown, not liking the thought of you possibly ignoring him, but that crease in his skin quickly grew less prominent when he caught a glimpse of your joyful smile.

 “He’s also got big muscles and a handsome smile,” You add, “That paired with his headstrong, chivalric nature..I’m not surprised that he’s made a name for himself and started a family in such a short time,” Your voice then drops to a murmur as you turn you creation left then right, inspecting it as said, “In only a small handful of years, he’s achieved someone’s dream and so much more.. He’s managed to exceed even the impossible and make everyone proud..he’s truly amazing..”

You grasp at pink petals—deteriorated by the chilling weather—as you fit them as you see fit. Filling in each space like a piece of a puzzle.

 “That encounter made me think back to the lake. It made me realize how similar we are. We’re both fragile and delicate and were surrounded by people who’d still expect us to give away our bones despite already relinquishing our flesh and blood…so what went wrong with me?”

 “Wh.. What?” He stammered. You lift your handiwork into the air, presenting it to the moon for judgement before you finally repeat yourself..

 “What went wrong? I made mistakes just like the lake, so why wasn’t I given the benefit of the doubt? Why did my family–my father–abandon me?”

Abandon. That word stuck to him like a burn to his skin and it felt as if he had just opened his eyes for the first time in a century. It made him realize all the little things at last; how tense the air was, how dim your eyes were, how often your brows twitched, how your eyes seemed like glass balls, how forced your smile seemed.. The illusion he had absorbed himself shattered in that instant, allowing reality to set in like a heavy weight. The person who sat beside him, the one who he’s come to view as the sun that brightened up his day, had looked so different in that moment that he could mistake them for an entirely different person. Did they always look like that? If so, for how long? How long has his sun been this dim? And why didn’t he notice it sooner?

 “I’m sorry, that was cruel of me to ask you that,” You profess in a raspy whisper before turning to him, plopping the finished product—a tri-colored flower crown—atop his head as you mutter, “There’s no way you can answer that.. It was my mistake..”

Kabukimono blinks, his eyes looking up as he tries to peer at the crown to no avail. It was like watching a kitten play with a toy; adorable. Kabukimono didn’t catch it, but upon seeing such a cute sight, you bit down on your bottom lip as your eyes narrowed—damn nea glaring—his way. Luckily, you catch yourself before he notices, trying to laugh it off as you look over at the lake once more. Though your laugh was even drier than the previous one that left your lips and came tumbling out of your mouth like gravel.

 “You know, you remind me so much of my brother,” You said, “You have so much potential to live whatever life you want, to make everyone happy and still keep yourself intact..I almost envy you.”

Kabukimono—hands delicately tracing the rim of the flower crown on his head—grimaced at your comment. Envy. Such a negative feeling to harbor towards him and for no reason at all. After all, he’s nothing special. If he was, surely she wouldn’t have discarded him and left him to rot alone. Alas, before he can tell you that, you started rambling again.

 “I used to make mistakes all the time when I was younger. Especially with swords,” You told him, though it looked more like you were talking to the lake at your knees by the way you were so intently gazing at it, “I just couldn’t get the hang of it. That applied to a lot of things my father tried to teach me… Heh, it makes sense why he gave up on trying after my brother was born.”

 “Wh- What are you saying..?” Kabukimono asked. It came out as a hoarse whisper that was easily carried away by the warm winds and far away from your ears. Hence why you continued instead of answering, surely.

 “You asked me once about the story behind how my obsession for knitting came about.. Why I enjoy it so much.. Well, the reason I never told you was because the truth is quite silly in hindsight; it was to apologize to my father.”

 “I felt sorry for him. After all, his oldest son—who was supposed to carry on and lift a weight off his shoulders–was completely hopeless in every way. I truly did feel bad..and so I thought the least I could do was ease his mind—to reassure him that his useless son could do something right.”

 “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that–” “After keenly watching my mother sew clothes and observing the female servants make clothing they could otherwise not afford, I was able to do something out of these impractical hands..” You held your hands up and kabukimono winces at the sight. They look like the aftermath of an intense fight, scars—some new, some old—littered your skin, some even stained it with the ugly dark crust that forms when the skin begins to heal. Did they always look that way? “Would you like to know what I made?”

 “I– I’m not—” “I made a fox. A tiny little fox attached to a string,” You said, “I thought it would be cute if he would tie it around the hilt of his sword and carry it around — similar to how one would a good luck charm. I was so excited when I finally finished and ran straight to my father's dojo on the far edge of our home to show it to him.”

 “Y/n–” “At the sight of my creation, my father frowned so deeply I thought his face would become permanently creased by it. ‘Is this what you waste your idle time doing?’ he asked me before cutting my little fox to shreds. ‘No wonder you’ve become such a disappointment! You sit around knitting animals instead of dedicating yourself to training!’ he went on to say.”

 “He went to grumbling under his breath after that. He kept his voice low, but I still heard what he said.. Wanna guess? He said—”

 “Y/n, stop!” The sound of shuffling of him as he stumbles to his feet is loud—though small in comparison to the boom of his scream. You pause, surprised albeit you barely show it—or rather, you’re barely able to force yourself to react—only being able to slowly blink his way in the end as you stare up at your darling housemate, who’s pretty eyes had welled up with tears.

 Stop..please..” He pleaded. A sniffle pushing him past the line of embarrassment, causing him to hide his face from you, “I- I beg of you.. Don’t say another word..not if you plan to degrade yourself like this!”

 “..Kabukimono, don’t..—” He hears you call from the other side of the barrier he created between the two of you, but he’s finally quicker, interrupting you for the first time tonight.

 “Your family abandoned you, but that helped you find your way to me,” He choked, “They didn’t see your worth for what it truly was..but that allowed me to! Who cares what they think of you? How they perceive you? They aren’t in your life anymore, I am! So stop talking down on yourself like they are!” With every word that leaves his lips—that seep through the unseen slits between his fingers—Kabukimono seems to crack more and more until he falls apart, collapsing to the ground in a fit of sobs which causes the flower crown to fall ungracefully off his head.

 “I- I’m in your life now, and I don’t care what you’re good or bad at! I don’t have any expectations for you to meet! It doesn’t matter if you don’t meet society’s standards! I don’t care about any of that. I just want to stay by your side! Isn’t that enough? Aren’t I enough?”

 “Kabukimono..” You call. A moment of silence passes and a chime of bells in the form of your choked sobs fill his ears as you snivel, “No.. No, no— I- I'm sorry. Don’t cry, please don’t cry..”

He suddenly feels the warmth of your arms surrounding his kneeled being and he finds himself crying harder to the point every sorrowful yell and sniffle rattled his entire body. You had wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to comfort him, but it was rather pitiful and futile, seeming as you were sobbing yourself, repeating, “Sorry.. I’m so sorry..” over and over like it was your matra.

You two stayed like that; sobbing amongst the serene sound of the water until it drowned you two out altogether. After some time, your loud croaks had been reduced to weak whimpering—though if the reason for that was because your voice grew too hoarse to form proper words or another reason was unclear.

Neither of you cared, or at least, Kabukimono didn’t. All that he cared about was the feeling of being tangled in your arms and the sound of your heartbeat singing in his ear—which he had pressed against your chest.

 “Promise me,” He whispered, his voice rasp, “Promise me that you’ll be honest with me from now on. A- And promise me not to degrade yourself anymore..that you won’t think about the past..all of it. I want you to promise me that you’ll move on..with me,” He clutched at your kimono, crumpling the flowers on it with his grip as he awaited your response with bated breath.

And when you finally did—when you finally mumbled your response and in the exact way he wanted you to—he felt as though the sun had finally come out again, better and brighter than before..

 “I promise.”

Humans are odd creatures. They’re treacherous liars by nature who spew falsehoods for the sake of their own twisted amusement, uncaring of those affected by their games.

 “There was once a small village here. If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

It’s been two weeks since you left for the village to sell goods. You still hadn’t returned.

It’d usually take no more than a few days for you to sell everything and come home, so after said days had passed and you were nowhere to be seen, he grew worried and—in the end—went to the village in search of you.

..But you weren’t there either. In fact, from what he gathered from asking around, you had left the village days ago.

 “The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..”

You weren’t here at the village, but you weren’t home either..so where had you gone? The question sunk into him, weighing him down like an anchor and causing his stomach cavity to drop. A feeling of dread set over him as he came upon the unsettling realization; you were missing.

Where had you gone? What happened when you left the village a few days ago? Had you been kidnapped? Grown more frantic with each thought that popped into his head, Kabukimono ran around, asking every villager he came across about you until he finally gained a morsel of information—a speckle of hope—when a man mentioned seeing someone that fit your description walk towards the entrance of the village with an empty, woven basket as big as themselves hanging on their back.

And without much thought, he took off in that very direction, heeding the man no mind any longer despite his warnings about the impending storm that was soon to consume the area.

 “This lake, though bound by the earth to this one place, saved that village so many times that the townsfolk began to believe that some powerful being was secretly living in the depths of it and protecting them. They began to idolize it, nurture and take care of it, and spoke about it as if this little lake was some otherworldly deity which created tall tales and legends that they’d go on to tell their children…believe it or not, I took part in such absurdity.”

Kabukimono remained unfazed when the path beneath his feet began to turn dark and slippery, when the graying sky finally shed its tears, when those tears dampened his clothing, not even when he nearly fell into a puddle. All that he could focus on was the possible places you would have gone and why the place you chose wasn’t home where he was.

 “So..what happened to the village?”

 “The lake failed them.”

 “Y/n! Where are you? Can you hear me?” After a while of running with no destination in mind, Kabukimono found it best to call out to you in hopes you’d make your way to him, call his name back, something–anything–that would hint towards you being near.

He raised his voice as high as he could, his voice likely being carried across nations from how loud he was, and yet, he was met with nothing but the deafening sound of thunder roaring to life. It was disheartening, but as he stood amongst the rain, the final wire in his head finally clicked and the memory of you sitting before crystal waters was pushed to the forefront of his mind.

It’s a slim chance, but maybe you had gone there and, for whatever reason, stayed.

In an instant, he was running at full speed once again, steering in the direction his memory remembered best.

 “A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

 “No one knew how it started. After all, fire wasn’t anywhere close to being the most accessible resource they had. It was a luxury, even. It also never spread past the village and by sunrise, it ceased to exist altogether. The oddity of the situation made the survivors believe that it was some punishment from their lake deity.”

 "That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad..”

He made it to the lake by nightfall—not that he could tell by looking up, seeming as it's been the same color since earlier that afternoon—and as if a light was shining down on it from the sky, the lake gleamed almost magically. Its darkened waters seemed to shine like a ruby even under the thick clouds and he sees the ripples from where he stood in the distance. The waves paving a clear way for him to follow, slowly leading up to the center where he spots something.. 

 “Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down…”

As he slowly walked closer, familiar strands of hair became noticeable. Though cut into uneven chunks and spread out to be nearly invisible in comparison to the deep red of the water that it floats in, he was sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. That said, he found himself following the strands to the origins of where they once flourished from. His eyes locked on the indistinguishable lump once again and he was sure that it and the reason he came here were unrelated…until something floating beside it caught his eyes.

That something was a hairpin. One with a golden base and purple and red flowers dancing along the edge of it…just like the one he bought you the day you decided to throw him that welcoming party.

 “...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

 “Y/n.. Y/n!” Despite the pressure of it dawning on him felt like two boulders falling on his shoulders, Kabukimono rushed into the water and immediately the white clothing that covered his being stained a murky crimson whilst a putrid smell invaded his nostrils. It made him feel sick—nauseated, even—but he did his best to push it all down as he clumsily swam towards the center of the lake.

It wasn’t true. This wasn’t happening. This surely can’t.. What’s floating amongst the water truly isn’t what he thinks it is.

It isn’t you. There’s no way. You made a promise that you still haven’t fulfilled, after all. You wouldn’t break your promise, not someone like you.

After what felt like an eternity, he reaches the center of the lake which he now notices is more of an inky black and only stretches as far as a few rogue strands. He grabs ahold of the lump, sucking in a breath when his fingertips sink in slightly as if pressing against a firm, wet cushion. It felt disgusting. He hesitates, but ultimately squeezes down enough to pull it along even with the sickening slick gushing at the pressure and making his grasp unsteady.

He reaches land at long last, immediately escaping onto the wet grass and tugging the lump out along with him. It looked less like a lump now, and though swole and looking like some abstract art piece, there was no mistaking it. It was flesh. This was a person, or rather, the remains of one..and they looked eerily similar to you even when all blotched and bloody, there was no denying that.

But even if this was you, there’s no way you could be dead. No, that’d be impossible. You have to be asleep. You had to have decided to take a dip in the lake and fell asleep. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

His shaky palms reach out to you and he touches you with his cold, wet hands that were actively getting more and more drenched with every raindrop that fell on them. He gently swept your hair from your face, tucked it tentatively behind your ear, and cupped your cheek.

His breath stutters. It was as if he was touching pure ice. But that can’t be possible. You’re his sun, his light, somebody like you shouldn’t feel like this.

..Well actually, it makes sense. You fell asleep in the water plus it’s raining. Even someone as warm as you would succumb to the cold under these circumstances. It makes sense. It’s okay. He’ll help you warm up in the comfort of your home as soon as he wakes you up.

He slides his hand down your face—past your now oddly grayed lips and down your neck—until he reaches your bare shoulder, which wrinkles had been exposed due to his rough handlings in pulling you out of the water by the drapes of your clothing. He promises to apologize when you awake. Because you will wake up. There’s no doubt. Because you’re just sleeping.

 “Y/n..” He calls softly. Too softly seeming as you remain unmoving. He decides to give your shoulder a gentle shake, calling your name once again, “Y/n.”

 “Y/n. It’s time to wake up,” Your lashes don’t flutter. You don’t grimace from the discomfort of his shaking growing more and more aggressive. You don’t do anything.

 “I don’t mean to disturb you, but you’ll probably get sick if you lie here in the rain any longer,” The same result. Blood begins to seep under his fingernails from how hard he’s digging his nails into your skin. He continues to shake you anyways, even going on to grip your other, covered shoulder.

 “Come on, you can’t sleep around forever. I- I planned to surprise you by making dinner all by myself tonight. It’s your favorite so you have to try it,” His nose was beginning to tingle from the odor that was invading it. Where was it coming from? Why is it so much stronger than before now that he’s closer to you? He forces his mind not to make the connection. Not that there was a connection in the first place. You were just sleeping, after all.

Just sleeping, nothing else.

Kabukimono’s hand trails down your arm, down past your wrist, to your hand where he enlaces his fingers with yours, “Come on,” He said, though his voice was quieter now, more shaky, and his words cracked like glass, allowing his desperation to seep through just a little, “We have to get home..”

 “I- I want to go home now, so let’s go..please..” He lifts your hand, raising your arm into the air and ignoring the deep, dark lines etched messily into your skin—the deepest looking one right over the vein of your wrist—and giving it a firm squeeze. You don’t reciprocate the action.

His grip loosens after a while and your fingers slide down his palm and flop to the ground beside you. You had to be really, really tired. But that’s okay, he’ll help you out!

He moves to hover over you, a grim smile etched on his face as he loops his arms around your waist and hoists you up. Your body collides with his as all your weight shifts to lean on him.

He holds you tightly, his head turning so as to not hit his nose against your chest and instead allows you to lean against the side of his face, his ear pricking up at the sweet symphony of...silence.

Sitting there, amongst the loud rain with his ear pressed against your chest—right over your heart—he’s met with deafening silence instead of the usual beat your heart strings typically produce. Your heart wasn’t playing its usual tune. It wasn’t playing anything, in fact, because it wasn’t beating. If your heart wasn’t beating anymore that meant you weren’t breathing anymore either which meant..you..

Tears—ones that he wasn’t aware of—were building up in his eyes, falling like a castle under attack. They slowly descended one after another, quickly fusing with the rainwater and forming as a long, thick stream along his cheek and past his mouth—which he had cracked open to bare his clenched teeth.

 “Y/n..what have you done?” He whispered. His voice sounded small like a baby fox’s cry for help; vulnerable and weak. He then repeats himself one last time, slowly, “..Why have you done this..?”

Silence. His teeth crackles under the pressure of him forcing them impossibly closer together.

 “Answer me,” He says through gritted teeth before yelling out, visibly and uncharacteristically enraged, “Answer me!”

Silence. He shakes you hard, your head rolling every which way like a ragdoll to the point it’d make one believe that any harder would cause it to roll right off your shoulders. Luckily, for his sake, it doesn’t.

 “You promised me!” He shouted, his voice then dipped, “..you promised me..”

Silence. A choke spells his demise quickly after that and his strength suddenly fails him, allowing your body—your corpse—to fall unceremoniously to the ground. He follows suit soon after, and when he does, he lets out a scream. One that clawed its way out from the depths of his chest, spilling his agony out of his throat and laying it bare for the entire world to see…alas, with nothing but the moon to comfort him.

Humans are odd creatures. Ones that cannot be trusted, no matter who they are or what past they may harbor, at least, that’s what Kabukimono.. Kunikuzushi…

That’s what Scaramouche has grown to believe after centuries of nothing but betrayal.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[aerodaltonimperial]

(For @spacegatito 💚)

The music is loud. In hindsight, Bowens probably shouldn't have put Max in charge of it, but he thought it was a nice gesture given how bummed Max has been recently about things. MxM, the fights he keeps getting into on Twitter... anyway, he's regretting it now, but he can't say anything because Max has already spent the last twenty minutes glaring daggers at Colten Gunn.

Maybe this theme was a bad idea. Also, hindsight. It's really not Bowens's fault that Colten took the theme of "dress as something you love" to create a giant fake Tweet of Tony Khan saying that "Max Caster is a talentless hack and sucks" out of cardboard. It's really unfortunate, because the sheer amount of work that went into it is impressive, but Bowens has had to glare a lot and pretend it's all horrible. (Colten can't even fit through half the doorways, it's so wide.)

The doorbell rings. Bowens only hears it because he's parked next to it; otherwise, the raps are too overpowering. When he swings the door open with a cheery "Happy Hallo...!," he loses all his joy midway through. "What the fuck?"

"What?" Darby asks. "You sent an invite."

"I sent an invite that you CLEARLY didn't take seriously," Bowens groans, because what the fuck. Specific instructions. He'd said dress as something you love, because the roster is on fire lately and they all need something positive, and here's Darby on the doorstep dressed in a grey shirt, black jacket, and a Scapegoat armband. "You know, this isn't funny."

Darby frowns at him. "Wasn't supposed to be. I'm starving, you got food in there?"

"Can't you just try to go along with things once in your life?"

"Dude, what the fuck," Darby says. "Get off my dick, I did what you asked. Now let me in, cause you're being an asshole."

Bowens can't really tell him to go, so he lets Darby past, but like, what the hell. He'd asked for one thing. One thing! Honestly, a fight is gonna break out, and it's not gonna be his fault. He sits back down on his stool while Max continues to toss tootsie rolls at Colten, which keep bouncing off the painted cardboard. God dammit, that costume is funny.

The doorbell rings again, and when Bowens opens the door the second time, he's met with... pink. Fuzzy pink.

"What?" Bowens exhales, aghast. "Did...?"

Jack stares at him, a challenge. Oh my god, he's got the greasepaint on and everything. "What?"

"Why are you...?"

Jack frowns. "You sent a theme. I did the theme."

Is this an elaborate prank of some sort? Bowens has to be hallucinating. Did Hook switch out the Haribo bears with weed gummies? "The... the theme was..."

"Yeah, open up, man. He's in there, isn't he? He didn't even wait for me, which is so fucking typical."

Bowens opens the door, but only because his brain is spinning like a hamster on a wheel. Jack breezes past him, spies Max on the turn table, and yells, "Goth phase!" which immediately draws a delighted crow out of Max and a change in the music.

Bowens stays there for a minute, trying to sort things out. He's still there when Daddy Ass comes by, and asks, "Hey, did you notice that Jack and Darby are dressed as each other? Did you not send them the theme? It's like they thought they were supposed to be scary or something."

"No," Bowens says. "No, I sent them the theme!"

They both go silent for a minute.

"No," Bowens says again.

"No way," Daddy Ass agrees, but it's a little dubious.

The two in question have found each other in the living room, and are sort of arguing with each other, gestures back and forth. So that's all very normal and expected, even if they are weirdly dressed as each other and Bowens is just about to write the whole thing off when Darby abruptly laughs, grabs Jack’s face, and plants a kiss right on his mouth. A ridiculously sloppy kiss with gusto that Jack does not immediately punch him for.

Oh, god.

"Huh," Daddy Ass says, brow furrowed. "I did not see that coming."

"Well, you know what I DO see coming?" Bowens points. "Max attempting to strangle one of your sons with the mic cord. We gotta go stop this. Worry about weird roster relationships AFTER we prevent murder."

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Didn’t find an ask that matched this idea

“Listen…” the villain purred and one of their hands landed on the supervillain’s right shoulder. Though comfortable at first, the villain’s fingers clawed harder into their enemy by the second, like an eagle would grab a rabbit.

Admittedly, the supervillain was losing it, sweating and flinching whenever the villain came too close. In the business, it was rather…apparent that the villain would do questionable things to get what they want.

“It’s simple,” the villain said. “We’re both civil people, aren’t we?”

And the worst thing was their persistency.

The supervillain didn’t even dare to nod and the villain finally let go of them, though with a dismissive gaze, sitting down at the supervillain’s desk. Their eyes scanned the boring room lazily. Boring books, boring computer, boring person.

“If you tell me where my hero is, I’ll only break five of your fingers before I kill you. What do you think?” the villain asked casually, eyes still searching throughout the room.

They’d done a disproportionate amount of detective work already and came to an understanding of why the hero loved their job so much that they’d die for it. Puzzle solving was fun but the villain also knew that violence was a helping factor in getting what they want.

And they wanted their hero back.

“Seriously, I’ve told you, I’ve told you a million times— I don’t have them…” The villain had tied them to the chair and the sheer panic of their uncertain future made the supervillain fidget like a scared animal.

“Hm.” The villain leaned back in the chair, watching the blood drop down the supervillain’s forehead. An injury they had accidentally caused a few minutes ago. “One of your henchmen kidnapped them, though.”

“I didn’t give an order or anything, I swear.”

“You told me something about opportunism, once. It’s been a while,” the villain said. Their eyes found the window and they stared at the small garden, the locust tree and the small pond. Their hero loved nature. “…but if I recall correctly, you told me to paint myself however the situation demanded. You appear to be incredibly incompetent right now. I wonder if that’s just a façade?”

“I am not lying.”

“Well, even if you are, you’ll be singing by the time I get to your third finger.” The villain looked back at them. “Singing all your secrets to me.”

“I could find out if one of my guys took them. Just give me some time. I can check security cameras, I could ask around…just give me some time.”

The villain sighed and their gaze wandered to the desktop.

It was never really over, was it? No matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried, their hero would never be safe. They would run into a burning building to save a puppy. Over and over and over again.

The villain smiled softly. That just meant they had to run after them. Over and over and over again.

“You’re not big on responsibility, are you?” the villain asked. “Blaming your own people? Why should they be interested in the hero? You’re the one who likes these games. I thought you would’ve learnt by now that I don’t like to be toyed with.”

“That’s not—”

“Fine.” The villain grabbed their enemy’s hand and pulled until half of the supervillain’s body was sliding over the table. They yelped, pain digging into their hand. “Which one do you need…”

The villain stared at the hand, thinking carefully. Eventually, they decided to go with the thumb and just as fast as their decision, was the gut-wrenching crack. The supervillain screamed and the villain stared down at them, tutting.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” they said. “You don’t scare me and you certainly do not control me anymore.”

They walked around the table, watching as the whimpering supervillain cried and looked at their thumb. It was quite an unhealthy angle.

“Let’s do this again,” the villain said and took the miserable looking hand into their own again. “Until you tell me the truth.”

They smiled.

“And in whatever condition I find my hero, I promise you’ll look ten times worse.”

The supervillain endured six broken fingers until they confessed.

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

Die With A Smile - Copia x male ghost oc

buckle up y'all part 2 is coming in hot and she's THICK

warnings/things to note: this fic series is Copia x MY OC, not reader. he's a ghost, so mentions of death, abandonment, heartbreak, angst all around really plus more angst this chapter

word count: 2723

Chapter 2 - Ethereal Tears

Copia couldn't focus. 

All he could think about was Ren. He was unable to sleep no matter how hard he tried, tossing and turning in his bed as he mentally scolded himself for leaving him in the graveyard so soon. 

Finally, at around 3 in the morning, he couldn't take it anymore. He got up and grabbed a cloak, slipping it over his pajamas and heading straight out of the castle. Before he left, he stared at his gloves.

 Maybe…

He slid them on hastily before quickly walking out towards the graveyard.

Soft crying could be heard, yet Ren was nowhere to be seen when Copia entered. Ren was hiding behind yet another headstone, curled into a ball and weeping into his hands. No tears fell, just pure, raw, painfully quiet sobs. 

Copia's heart shattered in his chest. 

He had a sneaking suspicion that he was crying and it pained him, oh how much it pained him to hear Ren’s quiet sobs. 

He slowly walked in the direction of the headstone, moving quietly through the rows of tombstones so as to not startle him. 

His hands itched from the desperate urge to touch him, to hold him and wipe away his tears.

He finally arrives in the row where Ren was hiding behind the headstone, a feeling of dread forming in his gut as he took in the sight of him crying. 

"Ren," he called out softly, as if his voice would rip in two from the sheer amount of wanting he had. "Please... look at me," he whispers, his heart aching for the ghost. “What’s wrong, my dove?”

"It's nothing," Ren sniffled, lifting his head. His white eyes were glassy, his cheeks glossy from the ethereal tears. "It's just my curse..."

Copia's heart ached when he saw Ren’s glossy cheeks and glassy eyes. He wanted nothing more than to brush his knuckles against the other’s skin, to run his fingers through his silvery-brown hair like he had longed to. 

He huffs out a quiet, bitter laugh before replying, "A curse, dove? What kind of curse do you have?"

Ren sits up a little more properly, wiping his face with his hand. "Every night, I must weep... for the lost souls. Those that have been buried in here, this cemetery… yet have not found mercy in their eternal punishment. I cannot leave... I'm stuck." 

Copia frowns and his gaze softens, full of sympathy for the ghost. "You cannot... move on..." he murmurs, watching as Ren wiped his face. 

He swallows, his heart clenching again. "You have to... cry... every night- for all of these poor, lost, unforgiven souls." He says this quietly, barely audible.

"What kind of cruel fate is that... to not only be stuck here- in this graveyard, but forced to be in pain... every day, every night..." He mutters this quietly, almost as if talking to himself, trying to wrap his head around Ren’s punishment.

"I... I was too young to be eternally punished when I died, yet not pure enough to be spared," Ren whispered. "I was told.. never to leave the grounds. But I want- I want to see the world; I want to explore.. that is also why I weep." 

Copia's heart sinks.

He swallows audibly, trying to push back his sorrow, sadness, and empathy for Ren. Yet, he couldn't help but reach out and instinctively try to touch his cheek.

This time, Copia's glove does touch Ren's pale face, and was immediately met with the freezing temperature of his cold body. Ren blinked, his brow furrowing. 

"You're... touching me... but how?"

He had instinctively reached out to touch Ren’s cheek, his fingers desperately trying to soothe away the other’s tears, when they met the freezing cold of his skin. Copia lets out a quiet shaky breath, his fingertips running down his cheek. He had never touched a ghost before. He had never even thought about what it would be like. Yet now, he'd gotten such a small taste, and he wanted more. More, and more, and more.

He didn't care that touching Ren’s skin was like touching an ice block- no, he didn't care one bit. As long as he could touch him, even if it was only for a brief second. 

And he doesn't withdraw his hand either, letting it still rest on Ren’s freezing cold skin as he looks deep into the other’s glassy eyes.

The warmth radiating off Copia's glove stirred Ren's insides, causing him to cry again. Phantom tears rolled onto the leather of Copia's glove, dissolving into the air once they came in contact with the fibers. 

"It- it's been so long... I'd forgotten what it felt like to be touched..." Ren whispered through quiet sobs. "You're so warm..." 

Copia's heart aches.

Too goddamn long. 

His hand trembles as he continues to touch Ren’s cheek, feeling how cold and soft his face is under his touch. 

"I-" he swallows hard and lets out a shuddering breath, his own eyes stinging in the corners. "You're cold, maledizione, you're so cold and pale and beautiful... precious, my precious dove..."

He continues to slowly caress Ren’s cheek with his gloved hand, wanting nothing more than to pull him into his arms and warm him with his body. 

"I don't care if you're cold, I don't care if touching you feels like touching a block of ice. All I care about is you, my dove.” He whispers, his voice wavering slightly.

"No," Ren says, pulling away abruptly even though his heart ached. "No, this... this cannot happen... I won't let it..." 

Copia lets his hand drop as Ren yanks himself away from him. He feels like someone had just dumped a bucket of cold water over his head, feeling the sudden loss of Ren’s cold skin. 

"This... this can happen.." he says through gritted teeth, reaching out in an attempt to grab him. "Damn it, Ren, what do you mean..?!"

"I cannot give you what you desire, human," Ren sobbed, standing up. "I am cursed. I cannot- I don't know what I can or cannot do anymore, but... I will lose you too... and I cannot bear to lose another." 

Copia stands up as well, taking a step towards Ren and reaching out. He doesn't care if it'll be like trying to grab smoke, he needs him to be back in his reach. 

"You won't, you won't lose me- I won't let you," he grits out, his eyes narrowing. "You can't be scared- dove, you can't be scared of me-"

He moves towards Ren suddenly and grips his shoulders, keeping him in place. "Don't be scared, don't be scared, it's me. You know me, you've seen me a thousand times. Don't push me away, I beg of you. Don't leave me here alone." Copia's voice breaks, and the desperation in it is clear.

Ren tenses, more of his ethereal tears streaming down his face. His ghostly presence flickers as he tries to keep his composure.

"But I don't even know your name," he whispered, his lip trembling. 

Copia swallows hard and lets his hands travel up Ren’s shoulders, all the way up his face until it is cradled in his gloved hands. 

"Copia. My name is Cardinal Copia," and by god, he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Ren’s cold lips and hold him and warm him with his body.

He gently brushes away the tears from Ren’s cheeks without looking away from his glittering, glassy eyes, and moves closer as he speaks, moving one of his hands to the nape of Ren’s neck. 

"Don't forget my name," he whispers, his fingers moving up to thread through Ren’s silvery-brown hair. "Don't you dare forget my name, my dove."

Ren could only sob in response, fear and sorrow and yearning washing over him. His pale hands gently hovered over Copia's gloved ones, his milky white eyes taking in Copia's face. "I won't.."

"No, don’t cry… don’t cry, dove, shh…" Copia attempts to sooth Ren, though his own emotions quickly become a mess.

"I cannot... kiss you, hug you, hold you... I cannot feel your skin without... without a pure substance in the way to buffer," Ren sniffled. "You have to understand, I-I can only touch pure metals... and mixed fibers.." 

Copia's breath stutters and gets caught in his chest as Ren’s words sink into his head. 

He'd thought about kissing him , holding him, hugging him, and more many times. He'd imagined it over and over again, imagined what it would be like to have his cold, fragile body in his arms. He'd even dreamt of it all, but- 

"You cannot..." he echoed quietly, his hands stilling, "you cannot touch flesh?"

Ren nodded sadly. 

Copia swallows hard, a painful lump forming in his throat as he thinks over Ren’s words.

He'd been so desperate to touch him- hold him, kiss him - yet he'd forgotten that he was a human, and Ren was a ghost. 

No matter how badly he wanted to hold the other in his arms and kiss him until he couldn't breathe, he couldn't. Ren'd just slip through his fingers like smoke. 

He looks down at the ghost, holding his face in his gloved hands, "That damn curse..."

Yet, as he stood there holding you in his hands, a sudden idea popped into his head. 

He didn't know if it would work, or if it was even possible to do, but he was desperate to touch Ren- to feel every part of him. 

He wanted to have him, even if it was just for one night. 

"Can you... touch gold?" 

Ren blinked as he thought. An odd question, though he understood why it needed to be asked.

"I-I've never tried…"

Copia lets out a breath of relief that Ren can at least possibly touch gold. He was determined to make it work, to have him in any way he could. 

"You've never.. tried?" He repeated, a hint of excitement to his voice that hadn't been there before. "Hold on, I-" he says suddenly and steps away from Ren. 

He had a silver and gold Grucifix rosary around his neck. It was a symbol of his un-faith, and he was about to commit the most unholy act of his life. 

Copia grabbed the rosary around his neck and yanked it off him, the chain digging into his skin as he did. He barely even noticed. 

"Touch it," he commanded, holding the necklace in front of the ghost, "try and touch it."

Ren lifted a single finger, hesitating to touch the rosary. When he did, his finger burned. He yelped and flinched away, holding his hand close to his chest. He began to sob again, his soft cries echoing in the eerie cemetery.

Copia's own hands curled into fists, and he clenched his jaw as he watched the spirit attempt to touch the rosary and cry out in pain as it burned his skin. He didn't know that the rosary would burn him, he'd been so sure it would work. He wanted the other so desperately and yet now he'd hurt him, in both body and mind. 

He let the rosary drop onto the grass as he moved back towards you. "Are you- are you alright?"

"Just- just leave me alone," he whispered, turning away from Copia and floating off into the fog. "I knew I shouldn't have... shouldn't have trusted you.."

Copia swallows hard, watching you float off and disappear into the fog. He felt like an idiot- he'd hurt Ren. 

No, no, no. 

He couldn't leave him alone, not after what he'd done. He had to explain, he had to try and make up for it. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he was after him, moving deep in the fog that surrounded the cemetery.

"Wait, please!" Copia called out as he moved through the fog. He could vaguely see Ren's figure in front of him, and he continued to follow it. "You need to know that it was an accident, I didn't know that the rosary would burn you, I swear!" 

Copia continued through the fog hastily, not realizing where he was heading. He'd tripped over a log and almost fell into a hole in the ground, but Ren turned around at the right moment. He quickly reached out to grab Copia and yank him back upright, both of them pausing as they realized what Ren had just done. 

Copia's heart had just about jumped out his throat as he tripped and almost fell into the goddamn hole, when suddenly he felt a firm, yet freezing cold grasp on his arm. 

He looked up, expecting to see him, when he realized. Ren was holding him - touching him with his bare, icy cold fingers. Both of them froze, staring at each other as a wave of realization crashed into the two like a truck.

"I... I don't understand..." Ren whispered, his voice wavering as he felt more ethereal tears drip down his translucent skin. 

Copia swallowed, his breath shuddering and his heart hammering in his chest as Ren held his arm. He stared at the other, his breathing uneven and fast as he slowly reached up with his free hand to touch his. 

"You're- You're touching me," he whimpered, his voice almost breaking as his fingers met your impossibly cold skin.

"I can feel your warmth... your energy," Ren sniffled. "But not your flesh. I-I don't understand it at all… why could you go through me before, yet not now?"

Copia's breath hitches as Ren said he could feel his warmth and energy. He can barely process the ghost's words through the adrenaline rushing through his body. 

"I- I-" his words got stuck in his throat as his fingers carefully wrapped around Ren's hand. "I-I don't care why you can- you can touch me... I don't care why. Just... Just don't let go."

"Okay," he nodded, although his essence was trembling. "Okay, I'll…I won't let go." 

Copia lets out a shuddering breath, carefully lacing his gloved fingers through Ren's and holding Ren's hand gingerly between his own.

"You're... you're cold," he says simply, his breathing still a little uneven.

"And you're… so warm." 

Copia looks back up at Ren's face, staring into his milky eyes, iridescent tears and trembling lips, realization slowly dawning on him. 

He can never truly hold him, kiss him, have him. He can only look at Ren, and that realization alone feels like a punch to the gut and a stab in the heart all at once. Copia's breath becomes shaky, and he swallows, his mismatched eyes becoming glassy. 

Ren is right in front of him, but he is not his to hold and kiss and love. Ren is a ghost with an icy body, while Copia's a living, breathing man who needs, and Ren is a need he will never be able to satisfy. 

"I want to be with you, oh, how I want to," Ren whimpered. "I wish I wasn't dead... I wish I was alive again with you.."

The more the spirit spoke, the more Copia felt his heart breaking. With each whimper his chest twitches slightly, the organ in it aching and squeezing. He can’t even speak right now without his voice shaking and cracking. 

“Me too,” he replied, barely above a whisper. “I wish you weren’t dead… I wish you were alive, so I could touch you and love you like how I need to…”

"Promise me something," Ren sniffled. "Promise me... you won't ever harm yourself as a means to become a ghost with me. Live your life, Copia. I did not, and now I pay my price."

Copia's heart drops when Ren asks him to promise him that. The very thought of him harming himself, to become a ghost and stay with him forever does send a thrill through his body-

But he knows Ren is right. He can’t do that, can’t harm himself, he can’t kill himself to join the other in the afterlife. It’s still a hard one to promise, and he has to take a sharp breath in and close his eyes to try to focus. 

“I… promise,” Copia whispers, his voice strained.

"Thank you," Ren nodded, a hint of a smile playing at his lips before he drifted away into the fog once more.

[afreakingdork]

It's On the Tip of My Tongue

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Warnings/Tags: Explicit Content, Aged-up Turtles, Established Relationship, Love, Romance, Cunnilingus, AFAB Reader, Masturbation, Cum Play

Synopsis:  Your boyfriend goes above and beyond after offering to teach you Japanese.

Also avaliable on Ao3

Written for the prompt✨Donnie's Love Language is Learning✨

I am so honored and inspired to be surrounded by such incredible writers and artist on a daily basis! This one goes out to y'all plus more specifically @amutantturtleenthusiast and @shiftandshade for literally giving me the premise on a silver platter. Both of your brains blow me away on a daily basis. Pun intended!

Last warning for the 🍋 under the cut. Minors DNI!

“What are you?”

Staring hard at the foreign letters on the package you were holding, you glared at the tiny mascot that looked like a buff praying raisin.

Donnie who was a few feet away with a basket tucked into curled arm, barely shot you a glance. “Try the tag.”

“It just says Nobel!” You gripped, turning the parcel over only to find a slew of even smaller font of what looked like walls of doodled strokes.

Sighing as if he were put out, he made the few step trek. You offered him the candy and he instead leaned into your space to review it. “Otoko Ume.” He gave a light scoff. “Man plum, I believe it’s supposed to be a manly amount of sour.” He pointed to the mascot. “Hence whatever this is supposed to be.”

“You had it before?” Turning into him brought your faces closer together.

“I prefer sweeter fruit chews.” He gently knocked the side of his head against yours and moved away.

Watching him depart with a warm smile, you went back to the candy with a tepid frown. Your brow scrunched and then rose as you snapped your neck back towards him. “Wait, did you read this?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged and went back to debating chips.

“You can read Japanese?”

“You’ve met father aka Splinter aka Lou Jitsu aka Hamato Yoshi dozens if not hundreds of times at this point.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never heard him speak it!”

He gave you a look that somehow both read disappointed and incredulous. “You do realize how that sounds?”

You grit your teeth and crinkled the packaging with nervous fingers. “Ok, look-”

He turned to you with dubious attention, folding his arms in way that caused the basket to jut out like a plastic welt.

“We’ve been together for how long?” You needed to reframe.

“Four years, 7 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days.”

He always spouted off the knowledge like it was nothing. You adored that he kept a running tally.

“And this has never come up in the slightest!?” You swung out your hand to make the point, but it just made it look like you were offering him the candy.

He reached out and plucked a corner of it between a thumb and finger to place it back on the shelf. “Can that be…?” With an extra adjustment to make sure the bag was in line with its brethren, he resumed his crossed stance as he processed the data. “Hm, you may have a point.”

Sighing out of sheer relief, you switched to eyeing him up. “Let’s hear it then.”

He gave it another moment of thought before grabbing a bag of nori shio chips. “Pa-pa tried to teach us when we were very young to varying degrees of success.”

He dropped the selection into the basket and you walked over to scan the savory snacks.

“I’m not sure to the extent, but Raph can certainly maintain day to day conversation. Dad will sometimes switch over when he’s really tired and Raph mirrors the speech. I’ve always meant to test if he’s aware he does it.”

Tempering your eureka moment, you found a bag of snacks you had always wondered about and quickly offered them to Donnie.

He scarcely glanced at it. “Kameda Kakinotane, they’re baked soy sauce rice crackers and peanuts.”

Pulling the package back, you marveled at finally having secured the knowledge that had eluded you.

“Mikey took to reading. When he was real small he’d sit in Dad’s lap and make him slowly read out the ‘pretty letters.’ He maintains accounts on multiple Japanese art sites and I’ve seen him flagging pages from imported books to look back at…” Donnie tipped his head to the side and gave a huff. “I can’t remember the last time I heard him speak it out loud. That’s annoying.”

Still putting a majority of your focus into listening, another package that had vexed you caught your eye so you moved to hold it out.

“Amanoya Himemaru, it’s a fried salty/sweet rice cracker.”

Lighting up, Donnie already had the basket offered out as you shifted to drop them in. You gave him a thankful smile which he lazily returned with a nod. 

“As soon as Leo took to Señor Hueso it was all over. That peabrain of his doesn’t seem to be able to hold two languages at once; he dumped all the Japanese for Spanish, if he even had any.”

“Which just leaves the star of the family.” You shifted your body weight to one hip and Donnie regarded you fondly.

“Fluent, as you can image.” He slunk down and around you awaiting further praise.

“Of course.” You gave it in the form of a stroke to his cheek that curled down the scratch that place he liked his beneath his chin. You felt the brunt of his rumbling churr along with a softening of his features in delight.

He allowed it for a moment before reigning himself in as he seemed to remember you were out in public. “Along with a few other languages that were self-taught.”

“My genius.” You hummed, stepping with purpose towards another aisle.

He followed as you approached the daunting wall of teas. The lead position meant he couldn’t see you. Using this time, you crafted your most puppy-like gaze before rounding it on him. It sputtered out as he had already steeled his features into a hard icy line. You almost missed the days when you could routinely catch him off guard to your advantage. He knew you far too well now and though you preferred it, sometimes you wish he’d let you get off once in awhile.

“I’m not going to read off all the labels.”

Your shoulders slacked and your head rolled back in defeat. “Come on!”

“There’s an English proverb that comes to mind…” He feigned thinking even though you both knew he already had the information locked and loaded.

“Yeah, yeah…” You whined.

“’Teach a man to fish.’” He spared you by only reciting a portion.

Your displeasure distracted you for a moment and then you bobbed as the intention hit you. “You want to teach me?”

“If…” His guard lowered in a small and timid way that translated the importance of this gesture. It wasn’t some snide force of information to correct you where public education had failed. It was his family’s culture. Your heart was faulty of bursting before he even finished what he was saying. “… you would be interested in that.”

“Yes.” You had tempered your shout which was a good start, but the urge to tackle him was off the charts. You settled for pressing your arm to his free one and weaving your five digits between his three for a tight squeeze. He showed his appreciation for you holding back by pressing a kiss to your temple.

The air then rapidly change as he parted with your conjoined hands in marched tow. “Let’s begin. Dearest, you picked the perfect place to start!” You balked and he used your surprise to trade the basket into your hands. He then posed in front of the green teas and brought a finger to attention. “Here we have ‘oh-cha,’ or tea. Some might believe this refers to only green tea, but if we dig into the radicals of the characters than we reveal something delightful about the language…”

He droned into both a heady lesson in tea and Japanese that would keep you both at the little specialty grocery store until closing. After getting scolded by an employee and finally making your purchases, you’d somehow been able to coax your purple turtle back to your apartment. You’d been unable to reign that mouth of his in as he doubled all of his sentences throughout your nighttime routine. Even into the kiss goodnight under the covers did he whisper sweet nothings on that dual tongue of his. It would have been sweeter if you weren’t exhausted. You could still hear the syllables as you drifted off to sleep.

When you awoke, you found yourself snuggled in tight with a cold emptiness beside you. It wasn’t unusual as it was hard to keep Donnie tied down to a mattress for sleepy mornings, so you hobbled up to look for your partner. He was nowhere nearby and the silence that chased your search seemed to indicate he had gone out. Bleary and sleep drunk, you stared at a bright pop of neon purple on the wall opposite you. It was curious enough that you left the comfort of your covers to investigate. Against your body’s protest, you gave a half smile as it came into view. It was a translation for the word ‘wall’ with a Romanized version for pronunciation and two sets of characters. You seemed to remember something about the three alphabets, but you weren’t sure which were on the note.

Resisting the urge to take it down, you turned and caught another purple note on your nightstand. You reached to touch the one on your alarm clock and caught sight of another pressed to the surface of the table as well. Getting a sinking feeling in your stomach, you rubbed your eyes. With renewed gaze, you came to find there were about five sticky notes on the nightstand alone. Foreboding sensations tickled your fingers as you spun around and started to take in just how many surfaces in your apartment were labeled. The purple notes popped up in nearly every inch of the space in some shape or form. It would have been impressive if not for how daunting it was.

Shirking it off, you headed to the bathroom to wash up. It marked the beginning of your battle with the annotations. The one marking the mirror was set in the dead center so you had to move it to see your reflection. The one wrapped around your toothbrush had to be completely set aside and the one on the toothpaste fell off as soon as you picked up the tube. The clipping on your face wash then fell into the sink and the one on your hairbrush had picked up an errant strand to its adhesive. Trying to cool your heated nerves, you went to get dressed and thankfully found no signs of that accursed neon amongst your clothes. Suspicious, you grabbed a shirt and turned to find a detailed manifest taped to sliding door of your closet instead.

You praised yourself for not ripping the thing to shreds and moved in an angry stupor on your couch. Across from you a note clearly sat against the screen of the TV, blocking a little square of the screen in the top center. You stared at it with wide furious eyes as the lock turned at your door. You turned that same look on the only person who had a key.

Donnie slipped in with a brown bag tucked into one arm and did a jaunty little twirl into locking the door back up. He then turned with a bright smile. It didn’t falter as he passed short glance at your furious expression. He brushed past it and headed to the kitchen. Climbing up into the couch, you watched him over the back of it as he sat the bag down and proceeded to get some plates.

“If that’s breakfast than I might be inclined to not get as mad about… all of this.” Looking around it didn’t take long for you to point you the nearest glaring neon offense.

He followed your arm and then gave you a genial nod which you read as a confirmation. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet. Where you had been annoyed, suspicion took over. Doing a half roll, half jump over the couch, you joined him in the kitchen as he laid out two wrapped bodega breakfast sandwiches. The scent distracted you and you reached for one before registering your arm was in motion. He peppered a napkin on top of your plate as a precaution to what would certainly be a messy ordeal and you left him in favor of taking your bounty back to the couch.

You had already gotten a few greasy bites in when he finally came around and set his plate on the coffee table. Through your own chews you watched as he then moved the sticky note on the TV and returned to you. He took a seat beside you and muttered a phrase you swore you had heard in any number of anime before he picked up his sandwich to eat. The curious silence ebbed between bites and when you went for the remote, you didn’t find it in its typical place. Donnie was pretty good about keeping the apartment in order for easy retrievals and you swiveled your head to look for the device. You found it instantly in a green hand and watched as he flicked the TV on. It instantly came alive and within moments you found you couldn’t understand what they were saying.

You slumped back into the cushions. “Of course, you somehow already have it set to some Japanese channel!”

He responded and it took you another beat to realize it hadn’t been another comment from the TV.

“What?” You turned to him, your sandwich already falling to the wayside.

He turned to you and the aura of smugness rolling off of him was palpable. He then went on to not only repeat whatever he had said initially, but rattle off a few more sentences that you presumed were an explanation.

You gave a hollow laugh. “No.”

One of his eye brows lifted in a manner that said the opposite.

“You’re not.”

He said something else in Japanese and went back to eating.

“Of course!” You shouted and looked around frantically. In this sense he was the immovable object, so you were already on the hunt for a work around. Over the years you’d found yourself quite adept an levyig your quick thinking against his staunch attitude. He’d grown humble in some ways, but when he was hyperfocused, you had to get creative. Not finding what you were looking for, you remembered where you had started your day. You found your phone under yet another sticky note in the bedroom. Balling up the bit of paper and tossing it into the trash, you typed out a message.

You: You’re just not going to speak English anymore?

Positioning yourself in the door of the bedroom you watched as Donnie took his time unearthing his phone from his pocket. He then regarded the text and then shot you cocksure grin before typing something out. You waited for your phone to vibrate before looking down.

Mauve Menace 💜: 言語を学ぶ最良の方法は、没頭することです。

That contact nickname had never been more fitting. You smiled regardless because it had been exactly what you expected and you copied the text into a translation window. Your gambit had worked out, but you scowled at its contents.

“Don, I love you and I want to do this, but… you gotta give me a break!” You crossed the room and over to him. Your shift in attitude had him placing his meal back down on the coffee table and extending an arm to you. As you drew close he wrapped it around your leg. “I’ll learn fast this way, yeah.” You reached down and gently cradled his chin where he was already looking up at you. “I need breaks though. My mind doesn’t work the same as yours.” You bent down to place a kiss to the top of his head which he dipped down to make more accessible. “Let’s set up a schedule and do immersion blocks during certain hours? Does that sound ok?”

Though he was still sat on the couch, he scooted to the edge and tugged your leg until your body was flush with his shoulder. He then rested his head against your stomach and thought the proposal over. You waited patiently and twirled your fingers into his little mask tails. When he seemed satisfied, he released you.

“Alright.”

“Ah, English to my ears!” You sang and dipped down to give him another kiss. He met it and you crossed him to drop back into the couch with a plop.

“The labeling…” You glanced at the closest one on the coffee table. “Maybe when I have a little more understanding I’ll come to like them, but for right now there’s way too many. I’m more of a hands-on sort of learner.” You laid your head against the arm rest and debated grabbing the rest of your breakfast.

Donnie gave a little thoughtful hum and mumbled something that you were sure was English, but still didn’t make it to your ears.

You gave your own curious response that he could either leave if he were chugging down a thought train or indulge if he were in a sharing mood.

In a mixed bag of both, he got to his feet. He continued to rattle off a series of what you now could identify as disjointed thoughts. It was the kind of thing he did when he was in a formulation state. You watched as he predictably headed to his desk. He kept his lab in the safety of the sewers, but when you’d chosen to cohabitate, you’d made sure he had space to work on any non-lethal projects.

Curious as to whether he’d go the old fashioned route of digital for what you presumed was a blueprint, you watched as he instead clambered for a box of parts. He then scowled at them, dumping the pieces into another such bin and using the now empty container to push all the work atop his desk into. It was enough to bring you to an upright position; he rarely treated his paperwork so poorly.

You were about to ask when he rounded on you with a manic eye. His body language shifted to tender, but that edge to his gaze said it was a sort of put on. Regardless, your body responded when he ghosted his hands over your shoulders and propped a knee up on the couch. Using the stability, he then crowded you and his lips pressed greedily into yours with enough pressure that you laid back down. By the time he encouraged you to slip your arms around his neck, you had almost forgotten about the strange display. His hands cascaded down your body, massaging your thighs in a way that coaxed them apart. Slotting himself there, his tongue attempted to drown yours and you had a far away thought that he was rushing when he hadn’t even seemed in the mood just a few moments ago.

A single rock into your center caused the thought to evaporate. He kept the pressure vague but ever-present as the pawing make-out session continued. You were near delirious when he pulled back. You watched with a love drunk gaze as he studied you from where an elbow held him up on one side of your head. Admiring his work, he wiped a bit of drool from your lower lip with his thumb and then beamed you an all too saccharine smile.

“I think we’re ready to begin.”

“Uh-wha?” You hadn’t regained the ability to sharpen consonants yet when he left you.

“With the lesson, darling!” He beamed as if that were patently obvious.

You stared at him dumbly and he dipped down to pick you up. One arm slipped under your knees while the other cradled your shoulders. Despite your confusion, you snuggled up to him as he carried you over to his desk. He deposited you right in the center of it and took great care to adjust your seating. When he felt satisfied, you were perched on the very edge with your legs dangling off of it. He dropped down onto his knees before taking one of each of your own in either of his hands. He pressed them together which translated all the way up your thighs. It made the slick between your legs all the more apparent.

Still trying to process what was happening, he set his chin atop your legs and watched you with what you could only describe as an abuse of innocence.

“Donnie… what’s going on?”

“You…” The angelic softness in his eyes caramelized before you as he rose up smoothly into your face. He then tilted his head as if he were going to kiss you, but instead continued, “... said you preferred experiential learning. As do I, so let’s learn.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the lacquer in his tone and he shifted back to his knelt stance. You had the faint idea of protesting, but he then hooked a finger into either side of your shorts. 

“Speaking can come later. We’ll schedule it, as discussed, but there’s a little thing we should work on first…”

It took you a moment to find your voice. “Y-yeah?”

He nodded and trailed his fingers around to the button in the front. “The tongue is a muscular organ that among its many jobs helps to manipulate language.”

He was methodically about undoing the stud and you felt the need to anchor yourself to the edge of the table as he dragged the zipper down at a painfully slow pace.

“Its dexterity is of utmost importance and something I’d like to demonstrate to you along with some basic characters before you get into it yourself.”

Your nod started small and then grew eager as he trailed his hands back to your sides. Glad you had a solid grip, you brought your hips up and he slipped both your shorts and underwear off in one go. You sucked a breath in through your teeth as he set them aside, carefully, on a chair before returning to you.

“To clarify, today we’re focusing on Hiragana. Do you remember what that is?” He kissed one of your knees and your jaw fell slack.

Trying to pick it up and swallowing the rapidly accumulating moisture in the process, you licked your lips.  “It’s… an alphabet?”

“That’s not as specific as I’d hoped, but you aren’t wrong.” He awarded you by slowly pulling your legs apart. Your body arched instinctively as the collected honey threaded strings between the two sides of your inner thighs. He drew close and shot it an approving gaze before turning it up on you.

“Don-” His name hitched as you melted under the searing look.

“46 characters representing syllables that allow us to write Japanese words, conjugation endings, and grammar particles.” He drawled on as he settled himself into the most comfortable position. It ended with his face right between your legs and his hands wrapped around your legs with a grip on the outside of each thigh. “Let’s start with some monographs, what do you say?”

“Yes, please, just-” You strangled the desperation and tried to translate it into your face.

A fond look broke through his molten façade and he gave a quick peck to your left thigh in what you sensed was an acknowledgement of how well you were playing along. You pried one of your hands free from the table to cover his with a light squeeze to translate something similar.

A flicked gaze back to your core and he was all burning business again. “There are a series of characters that happen to follow along the English vowels…”

You wished you could mouth a response, but the anticipation was throttling your voice.

“Starting from the top.” He closed the gap and pressed his face into your heat. Your head rolled back as he adjusted and then the scorch of his tongue darted out. He made precise strokes and it tore a sound out of you.

“Ah!”

He pulled back just enough so he could speak, “Exactly, unlike our vowels though, Japanese handles the long and short forms differently where need be. For this character, it’s that single sound.”

He immediately pressed his snout into you again and shifted the angle. His tongue dipped between your folds and you huffed.

“Oo!”

“Perfect.” His hot breath tickled you and you squirmed. “You just need to ensure the right mouth shape to make it distinct from...” He surged forward, tracing a hot line down towards your center, but not quite pressing in.

“Oh!”

He was a little slower to retreat and took his time gathering the moisture weeping there. “Do…” He swallowed. “Do you hear the difference? The う is like ‘too’ and the お is like ‘coat.’”

You rolled your hips forward, unable to answer.

“Two more, you’re doing incredible.”

His encouragement brought a pathetic whine up your throat as he nosed into you again. You seized up as he first tasted you then distinctly making the strokes that flicked directly over your clit.

“Ee!”

He rumbled in a way you vaguely understood as affirmative before going for another pattern. Its precise tongue movement didn’t rip a sound from you and for the first time you became semi-cognizant to what he was doing. Memories of him eating you out over the years reeled by as his tongue made flat stimulating laps. He’d been able to finesse his ministrations to the point where he knew exactly where to lick to get you to make the exact sound he desired. You might have been scared of his accuracy had he not finally shoved the thick of his tongue into your hole. A lengthy moan passed your lips and you forewent the table to hold directly onto his head. He awarded you with a few pumps of his tongue before pulling all the way out and putting a several more inches of distance between his face and your pussy than he had yet.

You nearly cried and a pathetic sound trickled out of you. “Eh…”

He panted heavily, shaking his head with a growl. “All five.” He gave your thighs a congratulatory squeeze. “Though that latter one may have sounded like the English ‘e,’ it’s actually interpreted as the ‘i,’ while the former is then the inverse of that.”

You rolled your head from where it was thrown back to look at him in a scandalized fashion.

He smiled darkly. “To recap, that’s い for ‘easy,’ like how easy it is to make you cum and え as in ‘wet’ and how I soak you through after just a few kisses.”

You wanted to scream at him. That fury in your eyes caught his and he gave another easy smile.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

The fury petered out and you watched for that affectionate switch to occur. Instead, his blown out pupils read that he was barely holding back. If it had been there, you might have interjected with the amount you held, instead his burning gaze brought out your mimic. “How much?”

“Let me tell you.” He murmured and shot forward. His grip on your legs was bruising and now all his ministrations were exact. A scream surged from your belly and you caught it with clenched teeth. The table rocked as he wrote out an epic with his tongue alone. You scarcely wondered how many pages this explanation would take up as the coil tightened with each twist of brush. He wove a love letter through your folds and across your clit while taking time to dot off sentences with a pump into your core. It was just enough pressure that your arms gave out and you slacked back, caught only by his wall of monitors. You had zero concern for their state as blood rushed in your ears and you could feel your peak coming on. Without your limbs to translate this, you squeezed his head between your thighs to give him some kind of signal. The fingers curled in on one of his hands and you felt the appendage then wave. Despite both your positions, you recognized it as ASL for ‘yes.’

You wanted to strangle the multilingual love of your life.

Instead, he seemed to finish his soliloquy and then attach himself directly to your clit. You came as soon as he did, his tongue eas you from the high as the spring rhythmically compressed and released. His grip on your legs soon loosened and he took great care in licking up the extra slick you generated. Satisfied, his head lolled back and he swiped that magnificent tongue of his over his lips.

His head rested against your inner thigh and you slowly regained the ability to move your arms. Once you had enough control, you used them to pull yourself from his screens and give him a sheepish look. He shrugged it off and rubbed his cheek against you to telegraph that it was alright. You smiled and reached out, needing to touch him more. Brushing your knuckles against his cheek, your tried to keep your lids open. “That much, huh?”

“That much.” He agreed.

You gave a wistful sigh and the inability to lean back properly was starting to wear on you. Donnie stood, freeing himself for your legs for only a moment before leaning down to dip an arm under your knees. This time you were ready and reached out to knot your arms around his neck. He spared you a kiss before surprising you by rotating your body so you could lay out long ways across the desk. You were curious for a moment, until he moved and you noticed that it could easily align your throat with his hips. Thinking this was what he intended, one of your legs came up in a lazy bend and you adjusted your shoulders.

He watched you lazily before going for his waistband. It was a stretchy sort of garment that made for easy transition between day to day and ninja vigilantism. As he prepared to slip it off his hips, you caught the telltale outline as he shimmied the fabric.

“You dropped?” You wondered with a half-lidded gaze.   

“Can you blame me?” His pants fell away and he stepped out of them. His cock bobbed lazily now that it was free and he reached down to fist the base. “You did so good in your lesson.”

“It’s already over?” You murmured, biting your lowering lip and unable to look away as he slowly tensed the skin forward.

“No and…” He gave himself a few hard strokes before blowing out a shaky breath. “It’s bad form because I would prefer the lecture had flow, but I’d like to cap off today’s teaching with something a little more complicated.”

“I like the sound of that.” You hummed in agreement, wondering when he’d let you take him.

You watched with a growing furrow in your brow as he moved to jerk himself off to a steady rhythm.  

“Can I…?” You drew out the question, pushing up onto one shoulder.

He shook his head and stepped in closer. The wet slap of his fluids resonated in your ears. “I want to watch you.”

“Watch me?” You finally broke eye contact with his cock to search his face. “But I’m not-”

“You’re doing everything.” He corrected sternly.

Your mouth snapped shut and you lay back tensely. He continued to slide his fist from hilt to tip with his speed increasing incrementally.

You studied him until it came to you. “Explain it to me.”

His lips parted with a heady little chirp.

“Teach me.”    

“My star pupil.” He groaned into the praise and paid extra attention to his flared head. “While we say it-” He stuttered and his hips bucked into his hand. “-casually. In Japanese culture, you don’t say ‘I love you,’ you show it. If it is said…” He trailed off, drinking you in with a long dragging gaze. “… it makes it all the more special.”

You nodded, curious if this was meant to be a demonstration. It didn’t feel quite right. Though he didn’t say it as often as you did and he was very good at acts of services as illustrated. The more you thought, the more you came to notice he didn’t fit neatly into any of the love languages. In the time your relationship had grown, you found that he completed each in his own way. Instead of overt touch, he preferred little, more meaningful brushes. He’d gone from plying you with inventions to making the occasional one that meant all the more. Quality time had been through the roof since you’d moved in together and you’d often wound up sharing space with one another, content doing separate things. Overcome with the many memories, you came back to yourself as the slap of his fist against his now soaked plastron seemed deafening. You could barely trace his hand as his pace became erratic.

“You.” He heaved the word. “You.” He repeated and turned his body. In a few last desperate tugs, ropes of his semen cascaded down your torso. You gasped at the sudden heat of them and barely registered when he shot forward as soon as the last of it ribboned out. His insane reflexes came into play and this time you couldn’t follow his hands at all as they danced over your belly. You gawked as he then pulled away, one of his fists dripping with his own release. Still feeling remnants, you looked down to find a clear set of characters spelled out in what was left.

 You craned up onto your elbows in attempt to read what was written on your body without disturbing the fluid.

He leaned in close and pointed with his free hand as he mouthed, “’Eye-she-teh-ee-mah-ss.’”

You sat up just a bit more and he threaded an arm around your shoulders to support your weight. “Again.”

With his head now right beside yours, he seemed to surprise slightly, but complied.

“One more…” You urged, turning to ghost your lips over his.

He repeated the words and drank you in with a kiss.

You didn’t let it linger and pulled back. Biting your lip, you set your gaze and carefully enunciated what you’d heard. “愛しています”

His lips crushed you back into the table and you could feel him move to grab you but falter with a handful of his cum impeding the action. Clearly annoyed, he broke away to tissue the fluid away before returning with more. He wiped you clean before urging you to your feet which became immediately apparent as a transfer to the bed. He made the trek slow and you huddled close to him. “How did that not flow?”

He gave a dry chuckle and you gave into the sheets. “Only one character I taught you ended up being in the final phase.”

“い” You noted.

He had been in the process of crawling into bed with you and caught you in another crushing kiss.

Pulling back breathless, you could feel a long day of intimacies coming on and wanted to clear one last thing up before it was too late. “And watching me?”

“Working up the nerve to say something that important.” He responded swiftly with that smug grin of his. “Seeing you sprawled out for me, having let me do that to you, and indulging all my little idiosyncrasies…” He reached over and plucked a sticky note from the bedside table.

You promptly snatched it from him and tossed it aside. “It’s that kind of love.”

He grinned and you both fell back into each other’s embrace.

💜Follow me, my ko-fi, or on Ao3 for updates! Become a member on ko-fi for behind the scenes notes, processes, and WIPs 💜 

[tmnt-obsessed-ace]

When The World Crumbles: Chapter 15, A Father From Another World

The water fight had been an ok distraction. For a few minutes everyone could pretend that nothing was wrong, everything was fine. And the horrible truth that had been revealed in the Turtle Tank was simply a bad dream.

Just a few minutes to pretend that the thick black tendrils weren't coiled around their throats like a hangman's noose. Threatening to strangle them to death.

But unfortunately all the water balloons were spent, the water guns emptied and the tires of the tank were still needing patching.

The metaphorical tendrils drew tighter as the brothers were made aware of their presence once again, sitting around and waiting for the tank to be fixed.

Which brings them to their current situation, sitting in a back alley with towels draped over their shoulders while the last tire was being patched.

Donatello was holding his younger brother, Raphael and Leonardo on either side of him. Mikey was helping Donnie patch the tire while Raph was on watch duty to make sure no one would see them.

A soft hiss from Raphael came from his left.

"Fucking stop!" The red clad turtle said through gritted teeth though there was no force to his words. Leo rolled his eyes, continuing his work. Some of the stitches came undone, the bandages and Michelangelo's cast got soaked so they also had to be changed though the cast would be changed at the lair.

"I'm almost done so shut up." Leo retorted, ignoring the huff the older turtle sent him. Donatello frowned a bit, grabbing one of his older brother's hands and squeezing it tight.

"So now what?" Michelangelo asked quietly. "How are we going to get back home?"

That was a good question. The recon mission at the sawmill provided nothing but a few new injuries, not to mention a sense of dread that was supposed to die with the Super Shredder.

Because the Footclan was still at large in this dimension. The biggest threat to their lives is still here.

That means…oh god that means that the Shredder is still at large. Just thinking about that made Donatello want to throw up.

It took four years to take that monster down, to finally put an end to a centuries long feud.

He didn't want to go through that again.

He didn't want to bury any more family.

"Donnie?" Leonardo asked, nudging the purple clad turtle. Russet eyes met ocean blue ones, though now they looked so dull like the hue was being sucked out.

When Donatello made a slightly confused noise, Leonardo sighed softly. "We still have to search for possible Kraang hideouts here. But it will have to be tonight." The oldest was squinting against the bright sun. Since when is it ever this sunny in New York City?

"Yeah the damn sun is giving me a headache!" Raphael chimed in, voice strained as Leo worked.

"With the sheer amount of locations we have to search, it's actually better to start as soon as possible." The laptop was pulled out of Donatello's bag and set down on the concrete. The new screen put in just last night was cracked and it was only twenty percent charged.

With a rapid typing of the keys, a file was pulled up on the monitor, an insanely long list of locations and coordinates that made all four turtles cringe tiredly at the sight.

"Woah boy that is insane-it's still going!" Leo shouted as Donatello kept scrolling.

The slider's jaw was hanging open as he stared at the list. Over half of the locations had some kind of caption.

Destroyed. Abandoned. Seized by U.C. Seized by E.P.F etc.

"Ok we'll search them all, see if the Kraang really exist in this dimension or not." Leonardo stated, oh that would be so much fun.

Frantically running from location to location, searching for the Kraang with almost no time to even think about resting.

Again.

"Here we go again…" Michelangelo mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his non casted hand.

"There's no way we're searching all of those locations right? Because that would be straight up torture and surely unneccesary right?" Leo asked as he started fixing a reopened gash on Michelangelo's bicep.

The four older turtles leveled him an exhausted stare, making him straight up cringe.

"We need to be sure." Leo only groaned at that.

"Now you know what we were doing for the past week before we got here." Was Leonardo's response.

His younger counterpart groaned even harder.

"No wonder you guys look like fucking zombies!"

"We could help go through the list!" Raph chimed in, towering over the five turtles.

At least his shadow was blocking out the sun.

"We could what now?" Leo was swiftly ignored.

That would actually be beneficial, these turtles actually know the layout of this New York City. And while it was similar to their own version of the city, it was also vastly different in terms of layout.

And the brightness was cranked up to a hundred.

"Raph look how long this list is! This will take days!" The snapper scrolled through the list, his expression changing from confusion to growing horror. He pushed it aside, trying to keep a smile up.

"No big deal!"

To say Leo gasped would be an understatement. It sounded like all the air was pulled from his lungs with a straw. The five other turtles stared at him in concern.

He snatched the laptop, sprinting over to Donnie and Mikey.

"Anyways your help would be very much appreciated, we'll be able to cover more ground and spend less time lost." Raph smiled brightly, snaggletooth shining in the sun.

"We should split up," All eyes turned towards Leonardo, his three brothers already glaring daggers at him.

"Like that worked so well last time!" Rapahel held up Michelangelo's casted arm, lightly shaking the limb to prove his point.

"Raphael and I will go with the Mad Dogs and scout out the possible locations while you two can go back to their lair."

The red clad turtle in question leaned over his two younger brothers.

He then roughly flicked Leonardo in the forehead.

"Leo, you and Donnie are going back to the lair, Mikey and I will go scouting." The two elder brothers glared at each other.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Leonardo crossed his arms while the younger duo got out of the crossfire.

"And why's that Raph? I can understand why Donnie's been benched. He got shot with an arrow but I'm fine!"

Another flick to the forehead.

"Oh not this bullshit again! Your knee got dislocated! It hasn't been dislocated since the we were at the fucking farmhouse! You are not walking on it anymore for a fucking while."

Leonardo only huffed.

Raphael growled.

"You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes you know that?"

"The feeling's mutual."

The duo glared harder at each other, refusing to back down. You could almost smell the tension growing in the air.

After a few seconds large hands pushed the two apart.

"Easy now! Look Lee, little Raph is right."

"Little what now?"

Donatello and Michelangelo both snickered at the nickname, oh how they would abuse it later.

"You really should take it easy for a few days, let the leg heal up!"

"If you tear your stitches again I'm replacing them with staples!" Leo yelled, causing the eldest to flinch. He glanced at Donatello, who shrugged with an evil grin on his face. The purple clad turtle was no stranger to using such a threat.

"Look unless you want to damage your knee to the point of possible amputation, a few days of rest isn't going to kill you." Donatello stated, ignoring how his eldest brother flinched at the word amputation.

"Plus six turtles is already a lot!" Michelangelo added, pouring on the puppy eyes, his eldest brother's gaze softened. "Can't exactly be all that stealthy with six, let alone eight!"

Leonardo frowned, he seemed to be considering the options.

Oh Donatello would hope that he would just listen instead of being stubborn. Repeatedly damaging his knee is only hurting him. Besides, it's not like Raphael and Michelangelo would be going on their own.

"Alright Donnie and I will stay at the lair." He said quietly as all the tension in the air dissolved.

"We can discuss plans back home in the lair, let's leave now!" Donnie called out, climbing into the Turtle Tank.

Everyone else followed except for Donatello and Leonardo.

"It's only temporary Leo, besides we should probably start investigating that weird trance you were in." The leader in blue nodded, dread clear in those tired eyes.

Donatello offered his brother a hand, letting him lean against him. Together they walked to the turtle tank, time to head back to the lair.

It's only lunchtime and this day can't possibly get any worse.

Right?

"They just left?" April shouted through the cell phone. Splinter cringed at the volume, April was thankfully not in class at the moment.

"I don't know what happened! They just stormed off!" The rat had a guess as to what happened.

God he hoped he was wrong.

But those haunted looks in teary eyes, the fear, the anger, the grief.

Oh how Splinter was familiar with that look. It was hard to forget when it had also been etched onto his face for so many years.

It would glare at him from the reflection of the mirror, hazy from crying, one time shattered and dripping blood.

The same look he had after his mother…

He shook away the thought, surely that was not the case. Surely the alternate versions of his children hadn't lost someone…

He could take a guess at who that someone was and it hurt.

Alternate versions of his children…

He knew eventually it would happen, but hopefully it would be when his boys were all grown up, when they no longer needed him.

But their alternates looked so young, yet somehow twenty years older.

"You still there Splints?" April asked, snapping the rat out of his thoughts.

"Yes! Yes, I'm still here, April. I just got lost in thought." He glanced at the thin cracked hole in the far wall from Leo's katana when it apparently went nuts.

The ruined blackboard had been moved to the trash while the portal projector stood untouched, a horrible burnt smell still coming from the metal.

"I tried calling them but all I got was a text from Mikey."

"What did he say?"

"It was just a photo of Donnie looking extremely ticked off."

Splinter huffed out a tired laugh, there was hardly any amusement behind it.

"I just hope Purple didn't kill Blue while they were gone."

"Well it seems like Leo is a dead boy walking. And if anyone can hold a grudge longer than him it's Donnie."

Splinter didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing that he wouldn't have to witness the fall out.

"Hey Splints I gotta get back to class, I'll swing by at around 3:30 pm ok?"

"Of course April, I'll call you if the boys come home!"

"See you then!" April hung up, leaving the old rat alone with his thoughts.

And the photos strewn out all over the floor.

He frowned, what a mess. One by one he picked up the photos, all taken over the years of raising his boys.

He picked all the photos of Leo.

All of the photos had something in common.

In every single one, even the massively faded ones from when his baby blue was just a tiny infant, his eyes were green.

They were always green. Noticeably green, especially compared to his brothers who all had brown eyes.

The green eyes that shined against his red stripes.

So why had they flashed blue?

Splinter looked at the last photo, one repaired with a piece of tape and the dried blood cleaned off as much as possible.

The photo of his children's alternates' 18th birthday.

He stared at the photo, specifically at the blue banded turtle. The one with dark blue eyes.

Alternate baby blue…

There was rumbling coming from the garage as the Turtle Tank pulled up. Splinter put his photos back into the scrapbook and the other photo back in the kitchen.

Then he scrambled to the garage, the sight of the Turtle Tank making his shoulders sag in relief.

The first to step out of the tank was Orange, who upon seeing Splinter's face instantly cringed.

"Mikey? Is everything all right?" Said box turtle gulped, ducking his head back into the tank.

He whispered something into the tank, his body slightly trembling. He soon moved away from the tank, whining softly.

Ok so something happened out there.

Next came Blue, a miserable look on his face. His eyes were back to bright green.

"Oh hey pops." He said tiredly, voice sounding so drained.

"Blue what happened?"

"It's…oh boy how do I explain this?"

Just as he said that, the four new turtles all left the Turtle Tank. They all looked down at Splinter, eyes weary and bodies shaking.

Resisting the urge to scoop these children into a hug was beyond difficult.

The blue clad turtle stepped forward, obviously trying to put as little weight as possible onto his right leg.

"Master Splinter." He began, words clipped and all too forced. "I would like to apologize for our earlier encounter-"

"It's alright Big Blue, no hard feelings, it was a rough morning I'm sure." The older looked a tad bit stunned at the nickname but seemed relieved that he wouldn't have to continue.

"You four," Splinter gestured to the four of them, who seemed to be doing everything in their power to avoid looking at him. "Are more than welcome here until we can get you back home my sons." The four turtles flinched.

They flinched, like they saw a ghost. That same haunted look returned in full force, eyes already watering again.

Dear god what happened to these children?

"Right, well we should have some lunch and then get going!" Red chimed in as the four older turtles quickly got away from Splinter. He ignored the already faint sniffling for the moment.

Wait, get going?

"But you just came home!"

"And we have about a bajillion places to search to see if the Kraang exist here!" Splinter gasped, his heart jumping to his throat.

The Krang…here? They escaped the prison dimension?

No…god no the Shredder was almost too much but the Krang? The boys weren't ready! Even with their ninpō…

When he looked up his sons were gone, their voices echoing faintly from the kitchen.

The old rat scurried over, before stopping in front of the door. Shocked gasps echoed from beyond the metal.

"-why didn't you say anything?" One of the new turtles asked, barely contained fury clear even muffled by the door.

"Because it's not a big deal!" Baby Blue replied.

"Uh yeah it's a big deal! Leo, you said your katanas were acting up all week!" Red hissed. "You've been having nightmares all week!"

"Leon, you can't keep secrets like this from your family!" Big Blue said sternly. There were very obvious mumbles of disagreement from presumably his own brothers.

"Hypocrite."

"Excuse me?"

"Pot calling the kettle black as the saying goes."

"Way to tell on yourself Leo."

"So what?" Oh Blue you done it now. The kitchen erupted into furious yelling, all directed at the slider.

"Dude what the fuck?"

"Zip it shortstack, I got the whole katana thing under control!"

"Are they still vibrating?"

"Huh?"

"Are your katanas still vibrating?" There was a pause, a faint shing of the blades being unsheathed.

"...no…No! Of course not!" A soft buzzing sound could be heard from inside the kitchen. Splinter's eyes widened before he groaned. If he could hear it from beyond the metal door it must be extremely loud in the kitchen.

"LEO!" "LEON!" All seven voices shouted in sync.

"So it's vibrating a little. No biggie!"

"Ok that's it! You sir need to learn that every dum dum action you take has fucking consequences!" A hum followed by the familiar pulsing of Purple's ninpō made Splinter cringe. Guess he will have to clean up a body.

"This looks like a job for Dr. Delicate Touch!" Orange declared. Blue all but screamed, the kitchen door flying open as the slider scrambled out of the kitchen, Purple and Orange chasing after him, weapons drawn and ninpō flaring.

"Michelangelo gets to write my obituary!" Blue yelled as he sprinted through the lair, Orange and Purple laughing maniacally as they gave chase.

Splinter glanced into the kitchen, Red had his head buried into his hands, groaning at his younger brothers.

Two of the older turtles, Short Red and Big Orange were wheezing from laughter. The former was even banging his fists on the table.

Meanwhile the other two, Big Blue and Big Purple were bickering to each other, voices in a hushed whisper.

"I take it Baby Blue was lying through his teeth again." Splinter said with a tired sigh. The five turtles went silent, staring at him.

Red gulped, not so subtly glancing at the four older turtles with a worried expression. He leaned over to his counterpart, whispering something Splinter could not hear.

No one spoke, the room thick with tension once again. Splinter frowned at the older turtles, eyes tracing over the bandaged wounds, every scar old and new. The visible bags under exhausted eyes.

His heart ached for these children.

Eventually it was Big Orange that spoke first.

"Dudes, is it just me or does he sound like Tigerclaw?" He asked tiredly. Tigerclaw? As in the move?

"What?" Splinter squawked.

"Wait wha-oh he actually does." Big Purple replied, staring at Splinter with wide russet eyes.

"Who's Tigerclaw?" Red asked.

"A mutant tiger that was the Shredder's top henchman." Raphael said before glancing at Splinter. "Fuck I can't unhear that now."

"The Shredder had a mutant tiger as a henchman! Ok that is kind of cool!" That mental image was both insanely terrifying and one of the most badass sounding things Splinter ever heard.

"Not so cool when he helped beat me into a three month coma." Big Blue muttered far too casually, left foot tapping rapidly against the kitchen floor.

Both Red and Splinter's eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

"W-what?" Suddenly there was a crash, followed shortly by a drawn out screech from Baby Blue. Red groaned, quickly excusing himself from the kitchen to deal with them.

Leaving the rat alone with alternate versions of his sons.

The four scooted closer together, yet again avoiding Splinter's gaze.

It was obvious what the problem was.

That didn't make it hurt any less.

"I…I am no longer alive in your world am I?" He dared to ask, voice gentle with these poor children.

Four nods in perfect sync, eight eyes shining with tears.

"Oh my sons…" Splinter trailed off as he approached.

That was it, the floodgates have been opened. Big Orange hiccupped out a sob, burying his face into his hands as more bubbled up. Short Red pulled him close, rubbing his shell with his hand while he tried not to cry.

"Papa…" Big Orange choked out, shattering Splinter's heart into millions of pieces.

Big Purple whimpered, leaning against Short Raph while Big Blue had an arm protectively over his shoulders, furiously rubbing his eyes dry.

"It was two months ago, but we're doing ok." The lie was so obvious. A pitiful attempt at sparing his younger brothers some dignity. After all, they were crying in front of a stranger.

Even if that stranger was a version of their recently deceased father.

"I know how horrible it is to lose a parent when you're so young." Splinter hopped up onto the counter so he was eye level with the four. "My mother died when I was just a young boy."

He cupped two of the turtles cheeks, Short Red and Big Purple. They were the closest to him and unfortunately he only had two arms.

"Losing someone you love. It hurts, it hurts for a long time. But eventually the pain will fade. It never really goes away, it will always be there but not as much as it is now." His hands shifted to cup Big Orange and Big Blue's cheeks, though Splinter had to shift around a bit to make that possible.

"I know there's nothing I can do to bring your father back, but if I can help lessen that pain I will because you are still my sons, no matter what world you come from." Eight arms wrapped around Splinter, the chairs scooted around so he was squished between the four turtles.

All four were sobbing into Splinter's robe, shaking like leaves in a storm. He smiled sadly, somehow getting his arms free to rub their shells. He was vaguely aware of one of them whining "papa" over and over. That just broke the rat's heart.

He just let them stay like that for a long time, even though he could barely breathe with how hard he was being squished.

These poor boys need it, need their father, and if Splinter has to lose circulation in most of his body and get squished into a pancake to give them that comfort then so be it.

Although, Splinter never expected that he would become a father of ten.

An hour later, the four warm colored turtles all left.

Leo had been grounded from missions until the issue with his katanas was actually fixed, with Donnie also staying behind in his lab.

The lair was much quieter, given that three of the four problem children were gone and Leo was pouting. Well that's what you get when you lie your ass off.

Donatello had claimed the beanbag next to Leo, currently typing a mile a minute on his laptop while the slider beside him continued to make obnoxious popping sounds with his mouth.

Like he's been doing for the past half hour.

Leonardo glanced at the two, given how much Donatello's eye was twitching it was only a matter of when he would snap.

The eldest turtle quietly chuckled, leaning back into his own beanbag. He looked up at this Splinter, who was fast asleep in his armchair in front of the TV, covered in cake crumbs, having long since passed out while watching some show Leonardo didn't really care about.

So different from his father.

Short, portly, far messier, and far more relaxed if his insistence that Leonardo not call him Sensei outside of training.

Leonardo would respect his wishes but couldn't help but wonder why? He and his brothers always referred to their father by Sensei, maybe a bit more than necessary but regardless it was a sign of respect.

He was so incredibly different from Leonardo's sensei, his father, that if he wasn't a mutant rat Leonardo would assume they were different people.

That was only one of the many differences between this dimension and home that tugged at the blue clad's turtle's heartstrings.

And the similarities hurt even more, like Splinter's gentle gaze that was filled with love for sons so far from home.

Even when they would eventually go home, their Sensei, their father would not be there. Not anymore.

Leonardo sighed and sunk back into the beanbag, turning his attention to his aching right knee.

The bruise was straight up mocking him at this point.

Sure it got dislocated but the joint had been reset, there was no need to bench him over this!

He shifted a bit, wincing as the joint said no. Fuck you for even trying.

Logically it made sense that he would be left behind. He could barely walk, let alone jump from rooftop to rooftop. And the turtle glider was still broken.

Still didn't make it any less unfair.

He should be out there with them, fighting alongside his family, protecting them from danger.

He has no problem risking his own life but risking the lives of his brothers?

The thoughts were shook away, Raphael and Michelangelo were more than capable of defending themselves. Plus Mikey and Raph were with them. Leonardo had seen them fight against Meatsweats, they were exceptional ninjas with actual magic powers!

The four of them would be fine.

There was a muffled squeak from a certain red eared slider. When Leonardo looked over he had to stifle a laugh.

His younger counterpart had a pillow squished over his head on the floor, the purple clad turtle's laptop sitting on top of it while he typed as if he wasn't using Leo's head as a mini table.

"Leelee help." Said slider whined pitifully.

"You're fine." Leo wriggled in response, though he couldn't do much.

"Is this all I am to you? A table? This is so not fair!"

Leonardo couldn't help but laugh, while his brother didn't seem fazed in the slightest.

"You laugh? I've been completely dehumanized and you laugh?"

Leonardo only laughed harder, he could practically hear his counterpart pouting underneath the pillow.

Just then something metal tapped Leonardo on the shoulder. He looked up to see the culprit was one of Donnie's metal pincers in his battle shell. He was holding some kind of devices in his hands.

"Lee, Don and dum dum-"

"Hey!"

"Would you three please come to the lab? I have some tests to run." Donnie said, voice laced with both excitement and clear anxiety.

"Tests?"

"Are you gonna stick a needle in me?" Leo asked, muffled from the pillow.

"Perhaps…" Well that was reassuring. "Maybe for a blood sample." There was a pop, followed shortly by a squawk from Donatello. Leonardo looked over, the slider had retracted his head and limbs into his shell, the laptop and pillow nearly falling to the floor.

Leonardo rolled his eyes, attempting to stand up when his leg ached with protest. Oh…right.

"Are you alright-" Leonardo cut Donnie off with a wave of his hand, straightening his leg out and taking a breath.

He forced his mind to clear into nothingness. No fear, no thoughts. Only energy swirling around in the void.

Energy to be repurposed.

Exhale…

Inhale again.

Hands held up, locking into the first pose.

"Rin." He began, the energy, his energy, swirling around for him to command. "Kyo."

"Uh what are you doing?" A voice, Leo's, vaguely asked. It was pushed aside.

"Big Blue?"

"Toh. Sha."

The energy, warm and pulsating like a heartbeat flickered softly around the turtle.

"Kai. Retsu." A glowing white aura surrounded Leonardo, his hands vibrating with the power. Warm…safe…all the wounds over his body went numb for a second.

"Jin." Both hands cupped his right knee, focusing the energy into the joint. The nerves went rigid, the shock making Leonardo tremble.

"Zen" The blue clad turtle concluded. After a second the nerves relaxed, all the pain wisping away into nothingness. He opened his eyes, vision spotty and swirling from vertigo.

He rapidly blinked away the spots, ignoring the light tingling in his hands.

When his vision cleared, Leo Donnie and Master Splinter were all staring at him like he grew a second head. Donatello only shrugged, handing his older brother the cane.

"You are still using this." Leonardo rolled his eyes but took the cane regardless. It really did help, especially when the pain would come back later.

"What…dude what the fuck was that?" Leo gasped as the older blue clad turtle stood up, the cane helpful support.

Splinter was staring at him with wide eyes, a flabbergasted look on the old rat's face.

Donnie grabbed one of Leonardo's hands, carefully examining it under his blue and red goggles.

"It's called the Healing Hands." Leonardo finally said, still feeling a little woozy. He looked over at Donnie, might as well get this over with. "You said you had tests to run?" The softshell nodded, dumbfounded.

"Right! Right of course. Let's just file that away under 'magic that is far inferior to science' for now we have so many experiments to do! Come!" One of the metal pincers grabbed Leo by the ankle, dragging him across the floor as his twin walked to the lab while the slider only pouted.

However when he locked eyes with Leonardo, his expression turned to shock, green eyes wide as he was dragged off to the lab.

Right that was weird.

"Come on let's go Dee." Leonardo said softly, before noticing that his brother's eyes were wide too.

"It happened to you as well?" Splinter asked, staring at the blue clad turtle.

"What?" Donatello grabbed a small compact mirror from the bean bag, judging by the sky blue color it probably belonged to his counterpart. It was opened and held up to the older turtle's face.

The blue clad turtle's heart rate spiked when he saw what had everyone shocked.

His eyes were green.

Well ok not really bright green like Raphael or Leo, more like a dark greenish teal color.

They were still noticeably greener than they were supposed to be.

"Right before Leo left to go get you all, his eyes were…blue just like yours." Splinster said quietly.

Leonardo blinked a few times, after the fourth time the green was mostly gone leaving only a teal tint behind.

He looked up at Donatello, closing the compact mirror.

"We should get to the lab before little Dee gets impatient." His brother nodded wordlessly as they both went to the lab. They could hear Splinter saying something but to Leonardo's ears it was all muffled by the hurricane of thoughts rushing through his head.

His eyes were green! His eyes have never been green before in his life! Ever!

Green…

Leo's eyes were Blue.

They were switching eye colors? What was happening?

Leonardo sighed, maybe they would find answers in Donnie's lab.

Little did anyone know that the simple little experiment would go oh so horribly wrong.

[bb-editing]

ROXANA (Chapter 30)

“Thanks.”

I gently handed the towel back to Cassis; the once-white fabric had now been stained red with the blood from my wrist.

“Maybe you should sit down and rest for a while.” Cassis laid another towel and some bandages onto the bed next to him. I sat down on the towel, thinking it was placed there so the blood and water from my dress wouldn’t dirty the bed. But then Cassis narrowed his eyebrows.

He exhaled, before speaking again. “Your body is wet. You should wipe it down with that towels.”

He handed me a folded blanket, but I refused. I hadn’t planned on staying for long, after all, and I didn’t want to bother Cassis more.

“Just put some clothes on.” He had been avoiding my eye for a while now, and only when he turned his head sharply after offering me the towel that I realized why.

My clothes had turned sheer after being soaked in the rain, and judging by his avoidant behaviour, he was embarrassed. How cute.

“Alright. Thank you.”

I took the blanket from his hands and wrapped it around my shoulders. Then I began unwrapping the bandage, spilling an obscene amount of blood in the process. If not for Dion, I would have already been in my room, I would have already called the butterflies, and the wound would have already been closed. God!

Obviously I can’t call the butterflies in front of Cassis now, which means my blood is going to waste.

“It looks like a knife wound.” Cassis muttered. “And the bandaging is a mess. I thought you said you were good at it?”

Well, it was only a temporary dressing so the butterflies could feed on the blood later…

“Well, it was decent before. I just encountered an… incident on the way here.” I looked at Cassis, but he looked unconvinced. Then he took my arm and started dressing it with the new bandages.

“You must be a good brother,” I said; his hands stopped for a second. “Last I heard, you have a sister? I can’t imagine only having one sibling…” I trailed off. “I have nine, but I suppose that sometimes it’s like I might as well have none. The mansion is so huge- I rarely see most of them.” It sounded like I was rambling now, and I stopped myself before I blurted out too much.

Cassis continued to move his hands silently.

“You know, you remind me of my brother.” Cassis stared at me. The moment our eyes met, I smiled internally. Yes, that’s it. This is your weakness.

I was already aware of how deeply Cassis cared about his family. His relationship with his sister, Sylvia, was mentioned several times throughout the novel, and his death proved to be the main motivation for Sylvia’s revenge. This was the one thing that would get a reaction out of him.

Cassis finished dressing my wound in silence, but before he could let go of me completely, I reached my hand out to him. My fingertips touched his chest, and I pushed him back onto the bed.

He grabbed my wrist gently but narrowed his eyebrows. “What’s the meaning of this? Why are you suddenly…”

“Don’t you think it’d been too peaceful so far?”

Cassis’ eye flickered at my whisper. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but I was faster.

“You know, the situation we’re in isn’t very safe.” Water from my dress dripped onto Cassis’ shirt.

The blanket I’d previously wrapped around my shoulder was falling off my back, and I felt Cassis’ heartbeat under my palm.

“Help me, Cassis.”

“… Help you?” His low voice tickled my ears. I could sense his reluctance, and decided to dig further into his compassion.

“Promise me that you won’t be angry… Promise me that you won’t hit me.” This time, I could see his eyes trembling slightly in defensiveness.

Of course, I knew that Cassis would never resort to use violence on me. But I had to take it one step further.

“And… don’t hate me.” I gently bowed my head, and my hair fell onto his shirt.

Cassis seemed to understand what I was doing when I spread my palms across his chest and buried my head into the nape of his neck. As soon as my lips touched his skin, he stiffened, but also seemed frozen at the same time. I started moving my lips.

[bitebitesnap]

What would either twin be like as a papa. With like a little mini me of them following them around?

h-how long have you been in here-

Ingo

He's unsure at first. Him? You want him? The subway man, the battle line boss-you want that as father to your children? Wouldn't you want someone more...deserving? He can barely keep his brother in line and you still want him to sire you?

Shut him up before he overthinks himself to death.

Though he hesitated your eagerness definitely gets him down the right path soon enough, muttering the filthiest things into your ears as you cum on his cock.

And it works. Months down the line he's a proud father of a little girl, her locks streaked with silver.

Somehow he's still a little nervous despite everything, but you can tell he's going to be fine. He holds her very closely as an infant, multitasking between helping you with the cooking and doing random chores all over the apartment.

Emmet being your neighbor helps keep his nerves in check. He doesn't have to bounce between worrying over his daughter and keeping Emmet from causing some kind of work riot-you laugh but it nearly happened when they were depot agents.

It quickly becomes apparent how much of a Daddy's girl she is once she's old enough to walk. She's around him so much you fear she won't be able to ever make it to kindergarten-which ends up becoming true, to your grief. Ingo is called to pacify the little girl and he even shows up in his uniform, something she's immediately taken to. He ends up leaving his hat with her because she took it and he couldn't bear to part her from it.

He ends up taking her to work a lot. She's fascinated by the trains- though not to the extent the twins are-but is more so enthralled by the way her father acts within the station. Everyone listens to what he has to say, how he can simply enter a conversation without so much as a 'hello' to enforce the strict rules of the station.

She gets so immersed by the command her father has that she interjects during a passenger complaint about how legendaries aren't allowed on the rails no matter how small so a Celibi counts as an infraction, though she cowers behind Ingo's leg the moment their attention is on her.

All Ingo does is glance back at the passenger with a blank stare, "Well? You heard the lady."

Emmet

Emmet isn't too sure about kids. Not because he doesn't want them, of course! It's just that....his face...his voice...

He's terrified that he might be too much, that his voice will be scary or that his face won't reflect his feelings. He could never imagine forcing a child to go through with having only one parent love them....are you sure?

Coax him gently, make him comfortable with the idea. He can handle the rest.

And he can definitely handle it-it doesn't take even a month before you've been thoroughly bred on every surface. Soon enough he's gifted with the smallest little boy, stark white hair plastered to his pale face.

Albino, that's what the doctor said. If he wasn't certain then the pink eyes would be evidence enough. He didn't even know they had albino genes in their family tree, let alone that he was a carrier. Drayden confirms it later when he calls him-apparently they have a distant cousin who's also albino. Who knew?

Don't tell him that his silver hair was probably a hint towards it, he'll deny it and say he's just special.

He may be afraid of how his face sits permanently in one expression, but even people who don't know him can see the sheer amount of love he has for his little boy. It's not so much in his face so much as his hands- he keeps his attention on him at all times. If you're going somewhere, he's going too. Grocery shopping? He's carrying the bags. To the theater? He's watching over your son while you go out-you want him to come with? He's sitting in the special booth for younger kids in the back.

He dotes on him so much the boy becomes attached to him like glue. You're never separating them, not without a lot of effort and tears at first. He's terribly shy, you come to know, partly because Emmet keeps doing all the talking for him.

He goes so far as to follow him to work-more accurately, Emmet carries him to the station and then refuses to put him down. At every given opportunity he's burying his face into the lapels of his uniform, sometimes with Emmet simply allowing him to hide under his coat against his chest.

There are the rare times when he lets the boy follow him on his own and many agents will argue those are the best. His stride shortens drastically, pace slowed to a near crawl as the boy hides beneath his coattail. It's not uncommon to find him simply standing near the rails completely stationary, his son close at hand with his little hands gripping his slacks while watching the train whip down the rails. His features are surprisingly placid, the smile on his face calm and natural. Until something happens that drags his attention away at least, then he's off at a pace with a white haired shadow at his heels.

Don't try to insult or interact with his boy if you're being difficult. He will punch you.

[thanks--for--listening]

divine monstrosity

Chapter 4: Beatrice

yes yes I know it’s late but at least its here! final chapter and its my favorite dynamic so far. 

also on ao3. (chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3)

~~

“I’m almost me again / she’s almost you.”

— almost, hozier

If she’d still had the ability to sleep, Lilith knew the sight would haunt her; as it was, she only saw it when she stopped moving, when her body paused just long enough for her mind to take advantage. 

Keeping busy was easy during the daylight. There was nowhere for ghosts to hide, and there was much to do. Images she didn’t want to see were held at bay, restrained by the sheer amount of energy that went into everything else. 

It was the night that brought complications.

Days had passed since the portal — how many exactly, she wasn’t sure. But the moon hung proudly in the sky, and she could feel the pull as strongly as if she were the tide. 

She always followed, mostly because she knew it belonged to her. The tug. The need to be in that room, even for a few minutes. No deity was influencing her to do their bidding. Not with this.

Her room was dark when she entered, phasing into the corner she knew to be empty. With the moonlight coming through the window, she could just make out the shape of her body asleep on the bed. 

Lilith wasn’t sure what, exactly, she was waiting for. Why she kept coming here. It wasn’t as if she had nothing else to occupy her time — unlike before, she was burdened with knowledge, with foresight and memories that her brain was still struggling to piece together. She had tasks to complete. Voices to ignore. There was no reason for her to stand here, in the dark, watching like—

“You don’t have to keep doing this.”

A weaker person may have been startled. But she had been conditioned to never reveal when she was caught off guard. To never allow someone to know they had the upper hand. To never give it up in the first place. There were only a few people who still managed to surprise her, and she was staring at one of them. 

Beatrice’s eyes remained closed for another moment, before she opened them. There was no judgment in her gaze. No anger, either. Just calm, as if Lilith’s presence was expected. As if it was normal. Not many people looked at her and saw normalcy anymore. 

Lilith stepped slightly out of the shadows. “I know.”

In the silence, she saw it again, a flicker that disappeared as soon as a shadow crossed her face. Beatrice pushed herself up into a sitting position, and although Lilith still towered over her, they felt more on even ground. 

“At least you’re brief,” Beatrice conceded. “Camila won’t stop doting.”

The corners of her lips tugged up, just slightly, before she remembered that Camila hadn’t seen her since her many transformations. Would she still approach her with tenderness when she witnessed the monstrosity she’d become? 

“She asked about you,” Beatrice said, reading her mind for the second time in as many minutes. 

“What did you tell her?”

“That you’re…different, now.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Not all of us have wings.”

Lilith shrugged. “Ava took the halo, I had to adapt.”

For a few seconds, Beatrice smiled, and everything was exactly as it used to be. When Beatrice had first arrived at Cat’s Cradle, she’d been drawn to her immediately. Like recognized like, and she was so clearly a kindred spirit. Someone who understood discipline. Another warrior who valued hard work with the same ferocity that she did, who had ambitions that complimented rather than competed with hers. Someone who spoke her language, who could handle her intensity and her icy looks and the empty space where her heart was meant to be. 

The reality of Ava’s absence crept in quickly, snuffing the humor out too soon. For an instant, Lilith came face to face with the very image she’d sought to avoid, before Beatrice schooled her features into compliance. 

Even if she hadn’t slipped, it wouldn’t have mattered. The way she’d stared up at her, standing in front of the vacant Arc, hands empty and words spoken too late, was burned into the back of her eyelids. She felt the heat of it as intensely as she had when Adriel had gifted her Sight. She needed no reminders, no triggers, to see it again.

“Have you…I mean, can you tell if…if she…”

“No, I can’t.”

Beatrice nodded, biting her bottom lip. 

Neither of them spoke. The quiet crept in quickly. Silence unburdened by voices used to unsettle her. Lilith had thought herself weak then, constantly falling victim to derailing glimpses into the past, each one intent on leading her to distraction, to ruin. 

She’d thought it was someone else’s doing. The influence of whatever being she’d come into contact with on the other side. In reality, the absence of direction had simply driven her mind to desperation. It was she — her own wretched brain — who had filled the gaps with memories. He had taught her that. 

It stopped once she’d joined his side, once she’d succumbed completely to the voice in her head, the one that returned after Jillian’s experiment. But now they were warring, the voices and the memories, each fighting for ownership of her limbs and mind, her conscious and unconscious. 

In an effort to hold onto herself, to not become a tool at something else’s disposal, she’d stopped fighting the urge to look back. It had left her burdened with flashes of the life she’d once led, with no way of filtering which moments she witnessed. 

She’d never considered how much suffering she’d endured. She saw her childhood, heard her mothers demands and felt the consequences of her own failures as if she was reliving them. Mary getting dragged under a pile of bodies while she phased away unharmed. Beatrice’s face at the Arc. Ava’s screams as her knife slid into her back. 

They built on top of one another, growing heavy with fear and fury and regret. There were days when Lilith doubted she’d have the strength to carry them all. But the pain helped keep her focus on her past life rather than give in to the future something else wanted from her. It could kill her, so long as she died herself. Not a slave to someone else’s bidding. 

Like clockwork, treasured moments of relief came just as she feared she was reaching her limit. Days spent in Cat’s Cradle with Beatrice, Mary, and Shannon. Nights as a child creeping out of bed, finding glimpses of joy away from watchful eyes. Training with Mother Superion and beating the shit out of a newly haloed Ava. Camila at the piano. 

So many of her thoughts led her back here. Like a shadow she couldn’t shake, Cat’s Cradle was where her mind went when it had nowhere else to go. There was a reason it was where she’d phased to upon reentry. A reason she’d come back after her first massacre. 

Despite the blood that soaked through to her skin, the wound that refused to flake away, and her failure at apprehending Vincent, her first instinct had brought her here. She’d materialized into the courtyard, unconcerned with appearances or judgment — she’d just wanted to go home. 

The place had been clearly abandoned. She’d walked the halls frantically, finding no evidence of what happened, no indication of where survivors — if there were survivors — may have gone. Camila. Mother Superion. The other sisters. They’d vanished. 

Panic threatened to set in, but an odd sense of calm had washed over her. She couldn’t find them until she fixed her shoulder, a voice that sounded suspiciously like her own had whispered. Better to handle one problem before moving onto the next. 

Something had felt wrong, though. She didn’t want to be fixed — she wanted to feel safe. So she’d tried again, another version of home, and part of her knew she wouldn’t find the feeling there, but the desperation was hard to resist. She’d spent a lifetime searching for it in those walls, trying to earn it with awards and accolades. That desire wasn’t something she could simply turn off. 

When she’d stormed out, when the rage had run its course and forged another new path in her heart, the voice beckoned again. Despite the fact that it sounded less like her and more like a stranger, she complied. Went to Jillian. Received the message from the others soon after. But by that point, the fearlessness and desperation that had led her to Cat’s Cradle had dissipated. In its place, she’d found a fierce determination: when she saw them again, she would be coming to their aid. They needed her to answer the call. To protect them from whatever had sent her team running. And when she did, she refused to be broken. 

The portal changed everything. Even now, her memories of it were brief. Long hours under an unforgiving sun. Faces that flashed by too quickly for her mind to hold onto them. Voices coming from somewhere she could not see, making decisions she had no input in. Decisions about her.

Everything got fuzzier once she came back. For months, she had longed for the sound of someone offering a command, a direction to take. When the voice returned, beckoning her to his side, she relented. In truth, she reveled in it. It had not led her astray before — if it needed her at his side, then that was exactly where she’d go. 

The cost of listening was greater than she’d ever have anticipated. 

“Where has your mind gone?” Beatrice‘s voice broke through the reverie. Lilith blinked a few times, until the bedroom and her friend's face came back into focus.

“Nowhere.”

“I know what you look like when you’re lost in thought. All that silver can’t hide you from me.”

Denying anything was fruitless. Beatrice would see right through her, as she already had. 

“I keep going back to one moment,” she told her, inching closer to delicate territory. The more she spoke, the more likely it would lead to conversations she wasn’t sure she was prepared to have. And yet, she kept talking. Not through another’s will being imposed on her, but because she chose to. It was easier to speak when she knew the words no longer belonged to someone else. 

“I wonder,” Lilith continued, “whether it may have changed everything, had it gone differently. Had I…”

“I know what you mean.” Her face remained steady, her tone unwavering, but Lilith could feel the shift, the emotion that most would never notice. “I keep imagining what might have happened,” Beatrice continued, “if we’d only walked away when he showed up. If he’d still be alive if we had. If she’d still be here.”

It took her a second to draw the connection. The Salvius boy. He’d been largely irrelevant to her, a blip in her radar. An obstacle to be removed. 

She didn’t remember pulling his heart out of his body. She knew she’d done it, but it was as if she was watching it through a haze, puppet master pulling the strings so completely that the motions themselves didn’t feel like they belonged to her at all. 

Part of her felt the need to apologize, but how could she explain her callousness? Her disregard for him even now, when she felt grounded in herself? He wasn’t one of them. He didn’t matter. And he was always going to die.

At least, that’s what she’d been told. The voice had called him a problem. A threat. It was only after, when the portal had closed, that she’d questioned who it was that he was a danger to.

“What about you? Which moment won’t let you rest?”

Before, she would have rather someone killed her than admit to any weakness; now that she had actually experienced death, she knew there were worse things than vulnerability. 

“I kept expecting one of you to come looking for me,” Lilith confessed. “At the lab. At Adriel’s. I’d find myself staring at the door, waiting for someone to bust it open and demand I return.” 

Beatrice’s face tightened, the pain present in every line. It was a bit of an unfair ask. She’d known something had happened, something catastrophic enough to send them into hiding, but she’d still thought that perhaps she was valuable enough to warrant a rescue attempt. An asset worth fighting for, if not a sister worth protecting. 

“When nobody did,” she continued, “it felt easier to stay. Harder to fight against the pull that I knew, deep down, didn’t belong to me.” She hoped her words sounded more like a justification than an excuse, although she hardly intended them as either. It was simply the truth. “I’m not sure who I’d be now if I hadn’t gone down that path.”

“We tried. After we regrouped, we tracked you to Jillian’s. Camila was furious that she’d let you leave when you were…not yourself. Made quite the scene on your behalf.”

The image of Camila scolding Doctor Salvius made the corners of her lips inch up, just slightly, before she remembered where she’d gone next. “And after that?”

“After that, things got…complicated. I think we all just figured wherever you were, you could handle it.”

The ache of incompetence crept in, doubt not far behind. Was it trust they’d had in her, or disregard? Had she failed them, or had they failed her?

“I’m sorry, Lilith.” She looked up, and for the first time all night, Lilith didn’t have to search to find what she was feeling. The guilt and sorrow were presented openly, blatantly, obviously. “We should have done more. We should have seen…I should have seen that you needed us. I was distracted, and I let you down.”

It was what she’d longed to hear. That she was right. That they’d left her, abandoned her at her greatest moment of need. That it was not her fault she’d turned into a creature so unearthly that all her years in service of god had been reduced to ash.

But now, hearing the words, seeing the regret on Beatrice’s face, she didn’t feel the triumphant sense of vindication. She felt exactly the same as that moment at the Arc, when she’d watched Beatrice flinch away, unsure if Lilith was friend or foe: ashamed. 

All she’d wanted to do was fulfill her duty and help her friends. She’d died for it. She’d spent months lamenting on the inequity of it all, the lack of fairness in her sacrifice being for naught, consumed by fear and anger that she pretended weren’t there. And what had she received in return? Where had it led her?

In a way, she felt as though she’d ended up exactly where she’d started a few months ago. Her feelings still felt too heavy to handle, her mind constantly slipping away. She had no home. No sisterhood. And yet she knew, deep in her core, that she had changed yet again. And while it couldn’t be worse than who she’d been at his side, she wasn’t sure if it could ever make up for all the damage she’d left in her wake.

She’d given herself completely to the man who’d killed Mary. Lilith may have deserved an apology, but she was beginning to believe she owed one as well.

“You were in love,” She finally responded. “As far as distractions go, I suppose that’s a worthy one.”

Beatrice shook her head. “I wasn’t—that’s not—“

“You can lie to yourself and everyone else if you’d like, but you can’t lie to me.”

It was as if her words set something in motion, because the tears in Beatrice’s eyes appeared instantly. The sight was rare, though growing more common with each passing day, something else Lilith knew she could take ownership of. 

The helplessness returned. Her strongest friend was falling apart, and Lilith had no idea how to piece her back together. All she had to offer was herself, and it was not enough.

If Ava were here, she’d kill her for putting that look on Beatrice’s face, and then let her heal so she could do it all over again. She’d yell and swear and embarrass herself all in the name of bringing a smile back to Beatrice’s face. And her effort wouldn’t even matter, because the simple act of being by her side would fix what Lilith helped to destroy. Mary had been right all along — she could train and study her entire life, and it wouldn’t change the fact that Ava had heart. Lilith did not. After her trip to the other side, Lilith suspected she never would. 

“I miss her,” Beatrice whispered, her voice raw and fragile, another anomaly to add to the list.

In an instant, she was back at the Arc, Ava disappearing to the other side. The side only she knew about. Beatrice had looked up at her, eyes begging for any kind of relief, and Lilith had nothing to give. 

It wasn’t just the desperation in her gaze that had left her haunted by that moment — it was the fact that, as soon as the portal closed, she’d felt the words echo in the back of her mind, in a voice that was not her own: well done. 

All the pain she’d caused. All the damage she’d done. The heartbreak on her face, and Lilith couldn’t say with confidence that she knew why it had to happen. Whose orders she was operating under. Her eyes may have been enlightened, but in all the ways that mattered, she’d been blind. 

“She’ll come back.” Lilith said. Her words were calm, her voice emotionless to anyone who didn’t know her. But Beatrice had always heard what she could not say.

“How do you know?”

“Because she has to.”

If she found any fault in the logic, she didn’t speak on it. 

The dreaded silence returned, except it wasn’t exactly quiet. If there was anything she’d learned in the past few months, it was that the world was still alive at night, still very much in motion. It was just harder to hear. The insects communicated in hushed tones. A handful of birds still spoke, undeterred by the late hour. The wind created all sorts of sounds, from the rustling of leaves to the rattling of windows. Like an orchestra, each element came together to form something cohesive. Something beautiful.

She glanced to her right, noticed the slight gap above the windowsill. Just enough room for sound to sneak in. Lilith didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed it earlier, couldn’t be sure whether it was for her sake or Beatrice’s, but either way, it served as a balm to the harsh reality of their individual sorrows. 

She turned her attention back toward the bed in time to catch Beatrice’s failed attempt at holding back a yawn. Her eyes were drooping, shoulders sagging. Despite her best efforts, exhaustion could only be delayed, not denied.

Lilith was the only enemy it seemed to lose to. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she was the exception. The night may be awake, but most people were not meant to hear its symphony. 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Lilith said, preparing herself to go anywhere else. “I should let you sleep.”

“I can’t.” The words came quickly, like a secret that snuck out before its time. Lilith looked at her, watched as she closed her eyes and took a break before continuing.

“In Switzerland,” she explained, “we shared everything. An employer. An apartment. A bed.” At the sight of her eyebrow rising, Beatrice added, “I balked at the thought of it initially. The…impropriety. But Ava refused to let me sleep on the couch.” 

She fought off the smirk. Ava was smoother than she’d given her credit for.

“I worried that it would be uncomfortable, or awkward. But Ava has a way of finding joy in everything, in making the most mundane prospects seem like thrilling adventures.” Beatrice chuckled as she added, “She said it would be like a sleepover every night.”

“Of course she did.”

It didn’t take long before her smile faded and her eyes shifted out of focus. “The bed feels too lonely now. Too big. Every night I dread the sight of the sun setting. Every morning I turn to my right, expecting to see her sprawled out next to me. All I ever find are cold and empty sheets. The wrongness of it all is….” She shook her head. “You apologized for waking me. But the reason I knew of your visits is because I can’t sleep without her. Two months, and my body no longer remembers a lifetime of solitude.”

The anguish is palpable. It’s suffocating. More than that, it’s familiar. 

Mary had always been the protector of their group. It was one of the things she’d admired and envied most about her. Lilith knew the feeling, but her instinct had never looked right, had always come through in disguise, so as not to reveal whom she valued enough to save. All this time on her own had left that feeling mangled, caught up in the twisted efforts of him and whoever had brought her to his side. She’d thought she was protecting them by following commands. All she’d done was cause more pain.

She had never known how to fix herself. How to heal wounds she could feel but not see. Not before her death and certainly not after. But if she could just help her friends, if she could rid them of the feeling she knew all too well, then perhaps her own pain would have a purpose. If she could protect Beatrice from the betrayal of her heart, it may make up for the absence of her own.

The answer was clear: she needed to find a way to bring Ava back, and to prepare the world for the battle she’ll be walking into. That was how she fixed it. But right now, a simpler, more temporary solution would have to suffice.

“Scooch over,” Lilith sighed as she slowly stepped forward. She spoke it as a command, but part of her still waited for the recoil. The revulsion. 

It never came. Instead, Beatrice just nodded and shifted to her left. 

She quickly removed her shoes before lifting the covers and laying down next to her. The bed didn’t offer a ton of space, just the smallest sliver keeping their arms apart, but she found comfort in it regardless. 

The phenomenon shouldn’t have been new to her. She spent her entire childhood attending private catholic boarding schools. Bed sharing was a long-standing ritual that many of the other girls had partaken in, despite the rules against it. But she’d never been invited to join. Never trusted anyone enough to allow them into her most vulnerable, private space. 

Lilith finally understood the appeal. Lying side by side, facing the dark of night alongside her, it was so much easier to dismiss the thoughts that argued she’d be locked in loneliness forever. There was evidence she could point to with the simple turn of her head to show that, at least for now, she was not alone. 

“Can I ask you something?” They were both still staring at the ceiling when Beatrice broke the silence. 

“Of course.”

“You always come in the middle of the night, but you never stay. Not even in your own room. Why?”

From the moment she first spoke tonight, Lilith suspected this question was coming. Answering was easier in this position, when she could confess without having to face scrutiny. 

“I can’t anymore. Sleep. Rest. My body doesn’t remember how, either.”

Beatrice took no more than a beat to process the words. Lilith wondered if she’s already figured them out. If her answer was merely confirmation. She’d always had a way of seeing through her, of catching what she thought was hidden in plain sight. It was another reason they’d worked so well together — she saw what Lilith never would. 

“I’m sorry this has happened to you,” Beatrice responded. Lilith felt her body turn, but she kept her eyes glued to the ceiling. “I’m not sure if I ever said that.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been difficult. I hate to watch you suffer. I hate not knowing how to help. Neither our scripture nor our history prepared us for something like this.”

“You mean they don’t warn about scales and wings in the story of Jesus’s resurrection?”

“They fail to mention that part, no.”

“Well then, I will be filing a complaint with the church for false advertising.”

Beatrice chuckled, and Lilith wondered if it wouldn’t be too hard to make room in her newfound plan, to add regularly hearing that sound to her long lists of tasks to accomplish.

Something else has to come first, though. She knew what she was meant to do, but the words still seized up, getting stuck in her throat until she nearly choked on them. Part of her wanted to bury the sentiment and their shame forever, but if Beatrice could admit to her shortcomings and give her an apology, the least she could do was return the favor. 

Lilith took a breath. “For what it’s worth—“

“I know.”

She finally turned, leaning back slightly so she could see her face. “You know?”

“You don’t have to say it. It’s okay.”

It was not. Okay only existed in her memories, in moments she could look back on. Atonement was what she had now, and it started with words she’d never liked to say. Words she knew were owed.

“I’m sorry. For everything I’ve done. And for what I may still have to do.”

Beatrice broke the threshold between them, grabbing her hand without hesitation. If she feared the claws that hid beneath, she didn’t show it. “Just promise me that whatever comes next, we end up on the same side.”

“I can’t—“

“No. I don’t care about your ominous warnings. You are still my sister, Lilith. I will not fight against you. So promise me that you will not fight against me. We face the future together.”

If she were a stronger person, she would tell her that she may not have the luxury of picking a side. That the warring inside her head, the voices arguing over her fate on the other side, may once again prove to be more than she can handle. It was why she had to lay the groundwork now, travel in the shadows and cross lines without hesitation. Unlike the war that awaited them, her fight would not be holy.

But Beatrice called her sister. She saw every depraved part of her, and still wanted her by her side. That, more than any ability she may have developed, was truly, biblically, miraculous.

“Okay,” she said. “Together.” She silently prayed — to whom exactly, she was unsure — that it was not a lie.

Beatrice exhaled, before turning onto her back. From this position, she could practically hear her heartbeat. The sound calmed her, eased her mind in a way she hadn’t felt since before her rebirth. Everything that was coming, everything that had to be done, it could all wait a few hours. She was in charge of her mind and body, at least for now. 

It didn’t take long for Beatrice’s breathing to even out. She knew she wouldn’t drift off, couldn’t give in to unconsciousness, but she closed her eyes anyway. Lilith may not have been able to sleep, but perhaps she hadn’t yet lost the ability to dream.

[sam-loves-fnaf]

Random Story 1

Don't know what is possessing me to put this here or, well, anywhere, but either way, here, for anyone reading, have my random oc fanfic that is based on a Danganronpa OC that I RPed on Discord. One of the things we loved doing with our OCs was trying and mash them with different things, like what they would be like in an AU or different universe/fandom in general.

Also, this is from a reader's perspective, though I don't/didn't use (Y/N), and it has an excessive amount of "you's".

Universe/Fandom: The Backrooms

Character/OC used: Taku Sasaki (known as the Ultimate Babysitter as a danganronpa oc)

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

Re-write:

Getting lost in the backrooms was not a part of your agenda. It has been a while since you could see the outside; how long have you been stuck in this hell? A month? It feels like years, to be honest. You were just a random person on your way back from school, and then suddenly, you just fell; you fell and landed on some musty orange carpet in a yellow office building-looking room.

It took you a while, a long time, to get to safe places and away from dangerous beings; thankfully, though, what is highly likely to be sheer luck and determination, along with the help of some scientists who seem to be living in this hell, why? You may never know, but at least you had found a place to stop and rest.

You had learned a lot about this place, but at the same time, you have learned nothing, like the freaking exit! As you discover, it does not exist, or it's so hard to get to that it might as well not exist. So, after having a mental breakdown and passing out, you woke up with a goal: try to find the exit...or, well, die trying.

So, here you are, trying to find the mysterious exit; thanks to all the stuff you've learned, you feel like a pro backrooms explorer. It felt like you were the main character! Ooo! This would be a great horror/thriller fanfiction!

Pulling yourself back from your thoughts, you noticed you were falling. Man, this happened a lot while running through this godforsaken place; hitting the ground disoriented you, so you stayed on the ground for a while before sitting up and looking around. The new 'room' you are in looks nice. Still, it has that uncanny valley-type feel that many places have; you land on a patch of grass, and it is an empty space with blue skies and a lone house in the distance; it looks...nice and peaceful; the house looks like a great place to stay, and, looking around, there weren't any dangerous monsters, heck there weren't any monsters here at all! You didn't hear anything.

Just eerie silence, no ambiance, no random noises, you didn't hear nor see anything that may look like it wants to skin you alive twelve different times...nothing, maybe, maybe-

You could stay here, it is so peaceful.

Blinking and shaking your head, you wondered how long you were staring; getting up, you walked up to the house. As you walked, you couldn't help but feel warmth and safety, something you hadn't felt in a long while; it made you shiver. This feeling shouldn't be a feeling to have in a place like this unless it is something terrible; it has to be wrong.

But what if it is okay? Why can't you just embrace this feeling?

Just this once?

Is it so wrong?

Before you know it, you are now standing at the front of the door to the lone house; you have a feeling, something telling you to knock.

But why knock? That's weird.

You should just do it, the place looks harmless.

But that's what many of the places in this hell are like.

Why do you go around looking for an exit any way?

I want to go home.

Why do that? You are home

Knock knock

You didn't notice when but were pulled out of your thoughts by suddenly knocking, staring straight at the door. Then, footsteps, and they were getting louder, going towards the door; your eyes widened slightly as you stepped back, preparing to bolt at the sight of whatever mons-

“Ah! A new guest, come in come in!”

A voice and what sounded like a male voice said as you looked at the person or human-looking being; the man was tall and had purple hair with silver-ish grey eyes and circular glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. It reminded you of an anime character, in a way. The male smiles kindly before quickly ushering you inside, and he introduces himself as Taku. Looking around the room, you notice how homie it is. Taku is shown to be a friendly man; he lets you sit on his couch as he talks away about how happy he is to have a guest that it's been so long since he spoke to someone who isn't a child.

Child? You questioned Taku on that, and Taku answered that there are children here; he watches over them and makes sure they are safe and somewhere in the house, playing and having fun. Now that he said something, you could hear childlike voices and loud pitter-pater of feet on the ground. Though weird, for some reason, that didn't set off alarms; why?

Maybe it's because Taku is a trustworthy person?

Trustworthy? You have just met him.

Yeah, and yet he let you into his house and showed you hospitality

Why are you being so difficult?

Maybe it's right; perhaps this place is just a safe space, and you could take a moment for yourself, and that is what you did. You talked to Taku and just have moments to yourself: no running, no having to maintain sanity, no trying to survive, no worries, no anxieties, a new home, and quite possibly a new life.

Before you know it, you went to sleep.

Waking up and stretching, you had probably the best nap ever! Though this is nice, the thought makes you sad-

Sad...depressed even-

That you must inevitably leave, you called on and asked Taku about an exit; blinking behind his glasses, Taku had a surprised look.

"An exit? Oh no no no no, don't worry about that for now, come with me and eat." The tall male said, quickly and easily changing the subject. Eat? Now that you mentioned it, the house smelled of food, actual real food, something more than protein bars and almond water? Sign you up! Taku is such a nice person; it makes you wonder if anybody dropped here before and why there aren't any civilizations here like in other parts. Has anyone come here before? If so, where are they?

But what you didn't know was that you were about to meet them.

The food was great, and you had met the children he talked about. You were surprised to see about nine children there, four girls and five boys; you would think dinner would be chaotic with that many children, but they were well-behaved; it was like one big family dinner. Some of the kids even called you their new sibling; it was cute! You had begun to lose track of time staying in this place; I mean-

Why do you want to leave in the first place

It's safe here

It's nice

As you said, no monsters, no worries, no anxieties

Taku takes care of you!

The cooking, the cleaning

Just. Stay.

Maybe you are home; what does home even look like anymore? The faces of those you loved and became a backrooms explorer to see again are becoming a blur, blurred faces and muffled memories. You were pulled out of your thoughts by a hand lightly patting your head; you looked up and...

Does Taku seem taller? Now that you mentioned it, you could see over counters, but now you have to stand on your tippy-toes to see what was happening.

"What are you thinking about, my child?"

A gently asked question, so you decided to ask again about the exit; you noticed a flash of concern. The male kneels down to his knees; he didn't need to do that before, right?

"Little one, why do you worry about the exit, why go back? Don't you know how dangerous it is? Especially for a child like you."

Child? You weren't a child; you were...um, you forgot your age, actually, now that he mentioned it, you forgot many things; how did you get here again? Why were you here? What were you doing again?

Taku picks you up-.

He wasn't able to do that before-

And brings you to a room; it is a nice-looking room with a bed, bookshelf, toys, clothes, and a lot more. Sitting you on the bed, the male smiles gently, a warm and calm smile, a smile that tells you that everything is going to be alright.

"Get some sleep alright? Maybe I could read you bedtime story would you like that?"

But what about the exit?

You hummed and nodded; you like stories! With a slight chuckle, the male gets up,

"Okay, which book would you like?" He asks, showing you the books.

Wait, this feels wrong.

You chose a book, and Taku sat at the bedside and opened it.

You need to leave!

You listened to the soothing voice and lay on the soft, warm bed.

No, don't sleep!

Blinking slowly, you yawned, and slowly-

ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉˣⁱᵗ﹗

You were-

ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ, ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ⁻

Gone forever.

[wholemonsternut]

i was clipping my nails & i just remembered a story that made me very sensitive abt my my own nails ever since i was a kid haha

there is some gore to it so it is spooky month themed XD

i have those long nails where the nail bed goes all the way to the tip of the finger so that means any growth (the white free edge part) results in my nails sticking out like claws idk moving on...

bc of how it is, the very end of the nail bed is very exposed & be easily cut into. earlier this year, i was opening a box & i wasn't careful enough with where i placed my fingers so one of the corners wedged itself between my right ring finger nail & i bled a significant amount & i could've sworn if i had truly panicked & yanked my hand the wrong direction, half of the nail would be ripped off the flesh (that may have been dramatic but this is my post)

>>ANYWAY, that was just exposition just in case any of you friends don't know what it's like to have something like that because that is a key detail in this story

for some reason my teacher genuinely did not believe that such nails exist (in fairness, at 8yrs old, i have also yet to know anyone else with genetically long nails like mine, so i took her word for it), telling us that it is very unsanitary, unprofessional, & akin to school delinquents to have long nails so she insisted to clip my nails for me

after not only humiliating me amongst my other 8 yr old peers, i also had to stay after the class. she pulled out an assortment of nail clippers & nail files from her purse. & immediately grabs & manhandles my little childish fingers

starting with my right hand, she starts digging the nail clipper into my nail. shocked & ready to cry already, i told her that the nail clipper was too deep & tried to point out that it's gonna bleed while also trying to pull away but she just scoffed (or whatever you'd understand a "tch" as) & held me in a sort of headlock... it felt like i was a sheep being sheered

i wasn't sure what was scarier, the feeling of the large nail clipper being wedged between my nail & flesh that it might as well just pop the whole nail off or the top layer skin being actively cut & yet to bleed to signal to the teacher the she should stop

it took until the we're at the thumb until one of my finger tips are finally stained with blood to have her immediately stop. i was so relieved that it was over & that i still have time to suck up my tears before anyone noticed.

however to her, my fingers are only bleeding because i was moving a lot & making a fuss over nothing

about to move to the left hand, she gave me an opportunity to willingly give my hand without her needing to hold me still. me, being a powerless child, i quickly understood that i do not know how exactly to get out of this situation

so i very hesitantly laid my left hand onto her free hand which she then grabbed the fingers anyway ig because i was very obviously shaking. her grip gets stronger every time i so much as flinch

for some reason, this side hurts more & thinking back i think it's because earlier she was holding my wrist/fingers so tightly that i was kind of numb to the full pain

i had my eyes closed for the most part & heard her sweeping the table (to clean up the nail clippings). i didn't want to be hopeful that it was over like i was minutes ago but i stared at her movements for a few seconds to confirm that she was putting away her things.

standing from my seat, i was ready to run hoping that i could catch that one kid selling bandages but

"where do you have to be so quickly? sit first. i'm not done yet." (best translation i can do, sorry)

she taps the previously mentioned nail file. at this time of my life, i didn't know what those were so i had no idea what she was about to do with a foam stick covered in sandpaper

i had a more verbal reaction with this one. apparently i was being a "whiny, dirty, unkempt, spoiled brat" standing up for myself for not wanting someone to rub my wounds with sandpaper but tbh i think i was a more of a personal opinion

i managed to get out of this part of the manicure session by saying that recess was almost over & i was very hungry

i couldn't find that kid that sold bandages that day btw

thank you so much for joining me in my dramatic retelling of my childhood self's torture session <3

[noteguk]

pretty in pink | kth | m

— summary; in which you try to rekindle your sex life with a devilish plan and a very sexy, very pink set of langerie. 

— contents and warnings; smut, a bit of fluff, marriage au, taehyung x reader, mischievous use of lingerie, dirty talk, dom!tae x sub!reader, pretty heavy dom/sub themes, constant use of the word “sir”, begging, Tae has a big dick, cock worship, blowjob, deepthroat, cum eating, fingering, hair pulling, a bit of praise, degradation (use of slut/cockslut), but also use of pet names (honey, love, baby, doll…), mentions of cum play, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm control/denial, overstimulation, impreg kink if you squint, being nasty in the name of love 

— words; 6,4k 

— author’s note; homies… this is basically one long smut scene. There are like 3 paragraphs of context. Brain empty no excuse. 

Requested by anon! Requests are currently closed. 

By the time that Taehyung got home, you had pretty much forgotten you had a plan in the first place.

He removed his shoes after closing the door behind him, his coat hanging over his forearm and an expression of exhaustion plastered all over his face. “Hi, honey,” he called, only slightly aware of your silhouette coming out of the kitchen and into the living room. “How was your day?” 

Now, you see, your day had two main parts. The first (the usual one), was the part that started as soon as your husband left home for work, and you made your unceremonious walk towards the kitchen table, where you proceeded to work yourself. A few years back, you had managed to score an amazing job in the tech industry which allowed you to work mostly from home, and get a great salary while you’re at it — one downside, though, was that things started to get a bit lonely as your husband’s hours increased. 

You knew that Taehyung wasn’t doing it on purpose: he was working hard for a promotion, one that could considerably improve your living situation, and you wouldn’t shoot his plans down like that. But it was a bit disheartening to see him leaving so early and getting home so late, sometimes only after you had already gone to bed. And, besides the emotional void growing inside of you, there was also the sexual one you needed to take care of. 

Which leads you to the second part of your day. The scheming one. 

You and Taehyung used to have an extremely active sex life, practically fucking like rabbits throughout your dating, engagement, and marriage phases. But now things had started to cool down — really, no one’s fault: Taehyung was too tired most days and you felt too moody — and you had started to grow a bit desperate. It wasn’t as if the two of you never had sex anymore, it was just mostly a very vanilla, very boring, once-every-weekend-maybe kind of thing. 

All that being said, it’s understandable why you had started to construct a plan to rekindle that old, dying-out flame of yours. You didn’t want to do anything crazy — regardless of how interesting the idea of handcuffing your husband was, you didn’t think the best approach would be to scare him away from the get-go — so you eventually settled for a few things he particularly liked from back in the dating days. 

(You felt so old thinking that.)  

Number one: baby pink lingerie, the lacy kind. You didn’t know what kind of intense reaction it unleashed in your husband’s primal brain, but you knew that those were his favorites, and that Taehyung never stopped until he could take them off you. For that special occasion, you had even gone out and bought yourself a new set, matched with some semi-transparent thigh high socks that you also knew he loved. Cover all that up with a loose satin robe (the same color, of course), and you were ready to go. 

Number two: a healthy amount of roleplay, matched with absolute submission from your part. Now, that’s where the money was: even if, by some curse placed on him by working countless hours in a corporate, hyper-capitalist job, Taehyung didn’t react to your very sexy, very skimpy set of new lingerie, you knew that would get a reaction out of him. It was exactly the dynamic the two of you liked the most, and you still remembered exactly how to push his buttons. 

It was a perfect plan. 

Only, you forgot about it. 

“It was fine, finally finished coding that page after a bazillion years,” you responded, placing your mug on the coffee table before throwing yourself on the couch. The signs of old age were approaching: your back hurt so much that you could only think about sleeping for the next ten hours. “And yours?” 

Taehyung hadn’t really looked at you yet, instead fighting to hang his coat next to the door. “It was good, actually. My boss told me he has some good news to tell me tomorrow.” 

Your eyes lit up. “You’re getting that promotion?” 

He sighed. “Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t wanna get any expectations, you know my boss. Maybe he’ll just give me a new stapl— What the hell do you have on?” 

You paused, looking down at yourself. Oh. Yeah. You had forgotten about that. Or, rather, you forgot about the second part of your plan — because your very pink, very exposed underwear was staring you right in the face. 

Still, you managed to keep yourself composed. “It’s new, do you like it?” You smiled, pulling your satin robe to the side. It exposed your breasts, made Taehyung clench his jaw at the sight. You needed to snap into submissive mode soon enough if you wanted that to work, but you also needed a few seconds to center yourself. “Baby?” 

You watched as your husband blinked his way back into reality, taking a hesitant step towards you. You wanted to laugh: Taehyung was looking at you like there was a tiger in his living room, and he was trying to find out the best possible approach to deal with it. 

And that was the perfect time to strike. 

You pouted, hand slithering down to the level of your waist so you could untie the loose knot of the robe. “You don’t like it, sir?” The innocent inflection of your voice made his eyes snap up at yours, something dark starting to swim on the bottom of his irises. He was catching the drift. “I bought it just for you.” The robe was pushed to the side, presenting him with the glorious view of your panties; those socks that made him want to bury his face between your thighs. Taehyung took another step in your direction. “If you want, I can change into something else.” 

Just like magic, Taehyung’s expression of exhaustion had been casted away, replaced by one of sheer, unshakable lust. Your breath almost got stuck in your throat as he placed his hands inside the pockets of his pants and took a few silent steps towards the couch. “Don’t change it,” he spoke up. His voice was deep and velvety, shot straight down to your core. “You look beautiful, love.” 

You smiled as he sat down next to you. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Of course.” Taehyung’s large hand cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his warm touch. His calm disposition was a threatening thing, it got you on edge as his gaze trailed down to your lips; your breasts; your thighs. He hummed. “Want my doll to look pretty for me.” 

“Yes, sir,” you said promptly. His eyes were back on yours in no time, thumb caressing your bottom lip. “Can you kiss me, sir?” 

His hand brushed down your face, moving onto your neck. Taehyung was thinking of what to do to you, and you were kind enough to wait. “Does my baby want a kiss?” He asked and you nodded. “Very well. Sit on my lap, love.” 

You could barely contain your excitement as you followed his order, one leg moving over his thighs so you could straddle him. Taehyung sighed in content as you sat on his erection, which only made the arousal between your legs grow. 

“My girl is beautiful, isn’t she?” He mumbled to himself, hands swiftly pulling your robe down your shoulders. A cold breeze embraced your body as the discarded piece of clothing fell somewhere on the floor. “But so, so quick to misbehave.” 

Your heartbeat quickened. “I didn’t misbehave, sir.” 

“You did, love,” Taehyung spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a child. His movements were tender when he pushed your hair away from your face, but you knew there was wickedness hiding in those still waters. “You are trying to provoke me.” 

“I’m not,” you lied. 

“You are.” His hands placed themselves on your waist, pulling your body closer to his. They were a bit firmer than before, spreading goosebumps through your skin as they slithered down your lower back, palming your ass cheeks. “You put this on because you wanted me to fuck you, baby. Don’t lie to me now.” 

Your hand started playing with his tie, eyes following the movement of your fingers so you could avoid his penetrative gaze. “Sorry, sir.” 

His finger found the underside of your chin, pushing it up. You couldn’t escape those eyes, he wouldn’t allow you to. “Why are you apologizing?” He asked calmly. His other hand was still firm on your ass, squeezing the flesh. “I’m not mad. I just find it funny.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Funny?” You echoed. 

“Yes, doll,” Taehyung said. “Funny the lengths you go to just because you want my cock.” 

Heat exploded on your cheeks at his dirty words, your own speech getting stuck in your throat. You were in trouble, and it was exactly what you had been looking for. 

“Hm? Not gonna say anything?” He egged you on, leaning his head to the side. You wanted to touch him, to kiss him, but you knew that things would follow his own pace. “My baby’s so horny for cock she’s not gonna even answer me?” 

His words were suffocating you, earning a timid roll of your hips against his hard member. Your underwear was absolutely soaked and you could barely think straight. “I want you, sir,” was what you managed to get out. 

“I know,” Taehyung said, his tone so nonchalant, so passive. His knuckles brushed tenderly against your cheek, a sly smirk curling up on his lips. “My pretty little slut just wants to get fucked so bad, doesn’t she?” 

You nodded. “Yes.”

He hummed, the corners of his lips moving down in disapproval. “Yes…?”

“Yes, sir,” you were quick to correct yourself, hands slithering up his shoulders and behind his neck. It was electrifying how Taehyung managed to get you so worked up so quickly, his unbothered stare burning holes on your skin. You felt so small like that, and you knew he was getting high on the power play. Some things never change. “Sorry, sir.” 

“Mhm.” Taehyung didn’t grant you forgiveness so fast, instead leaning back on the couch and analyzing your demeanor. “I don’t know if you deserve my cock, though.” 

You blinked, not hesitating for a second. “I do deserve it, sir.”

He scoffed, both of his hands back on your waist. His palms were heavy and warm against your skin, and you could not hold back the thought of having his fingers moving in and out of you. No matter how many times Taehyung touched you, his hands were just so big that he got you seeing stars in no time, filling you up and reaching deep inside you in ways that your own fingers never could. “Show me, then.” His firm voice broke your reveries, digits pressing down on your naked flesh. “You can kiss me now.”

Obedient, you leaned in and trapped his mouth in yours. It was a different world when Taehyung was in that headspace — often, he would kiss you so eagerly, so hungry for more, but, now, his mouth was barely following yours; a disinterested hum melting past his throat, silently daring you to try harder, to show him that you were worth his time. You dug your fingers in his soft hair and placed your tongue inside his mouth, trying to be the best you could be for him and, yet, it seemed as if he was deadset on giving you the bare minimum reaction. 

At the same time, you still felt the effects of that kiss, your body heating up as you moaned against his mouth. Taehyung’s hands had traveled downwards and were now tugging at your panties, pulling them up and burying them between your asschecks. It made your back arch; there was a slight pressure on your clit that got you grinding down on his cock. He sighed at that, sucking on your tongue as one of his hands slithered beneath your panties, harshly groping your ass. 

You swore he was just about to get into it when he decided to pull away. Slightly breathless and completely overwhelmed, you could only watch as Taehyung tilted his head to the side and, just as nonchalant as before, asked, “What do we say, doll?”

Lucky you, you knew the answer to that question. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Very well.” He caressed your cheek once more, eyes trapped on the swell of your lips. Taehyung’s mind was flickering through the details of you — your breasts, your thighs, the perfect weight of your center against his — as he slowly figured out what he wanted to do to you. At last, he made up his mind. “On your knees.” 

To move away from his embrace seemed to be a medieval sort of torture, but you did as he told you. You were on your knees in no time, the harsh wooden floor hurting your flesh when you looked up at him, expectant. 

Taehyung leaned forward, trapping your chin between his fingers. “So pretty, aren’t you, doll?” He asked, voice velvety and slow. “Wanna be good for me?” 

You nodded, eager to please him. 

With a deep exhale, he moved back, spreading his arms over the couch’s back. “Good. Take my cock out,” he commanded. You stared up at him for a second too long, waiting to see if that was a test. It was a bit suspicious, after all: he used to tease you for far longer than that before even allowing you to touch him. And, because Taehyung knew you very well, he caught your trail of thought quickly enough. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Go on.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, just to be sure, and took your hands to his pants. Taehyung had chosen one of his most beautiful suits to work that day, and the dark grey shade did not conceal his erection in the slightest. 

The smallest of things got you waiting for more: the sound of his pants being pulled down, apparently so loud in that silent living room; the gradual rise and fall of his chest; the wet mark on his underwear and the straining of his hard, leaking cock against the fabric. It was a good kind of anticipation, for you loved when Taehyung got you on the edge like that, unsure of what would follow, of how he would treat you. 

Truth was: you loved being good for him, loved treating him as well as you could. Above all, you loved when he praised you for it, all warm touches and kind regards. But also, you adored when he made you work for those praises, glancing down at you like you were bothering him, like you couldn’t do anything right, not even pleasure him. 

His cock was out soon after, heavy in your hands. Taehyung managed to control his demeanor rather well, but you could see that he was extremely turned on: tip reddened and covered in his precum, his length fully hard and throbbing as you gave him a small, tentative pump. 

“Spit on it,” he said. “Come on, you know better than to touch me dry.” 

You nodded, doing as he told you. A big glob of saliva dripped down onto his member, which you used to help with your movements. Saliva wasn’t lube, that’s true, but it did manage to calm down his attitude for a bit. 

Being married meant that you had grown extremely used to each other’s bodies and, just like Taehyung knew your weak spots like the back of his hand, you knew his. Soon enough, you had your tongue trailing the underside of his cock, placing a special pressure on his frenulum. Taehyung inhaled sharply, hands digging to the sofa cushions as you lethargically continued your actions, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip and tasting his precum. 

“In your mouth,” he ordered, “now.” 

Eager to please him, your lips wrapped around his crown and you gradually began sinking down on him. Taehyung was thick, always gave you a hard time as you slowly grew used to his size inside your mouth; a strangled moan perishing in your throat as you took him in. Above you, the man groaned in satisfaction, one of his large hands resting on the back of your head. 

“Move.”

You agreed with a whimper, closing your eyes as your mouth moved up and down on his member, cheeks hollowing every time you sucked him. Taehyung got you just the way that he liked: so small beneath him, with your doll-like eyes looking up at him through a thin curtain of your tears. He always thought you looked so pretty with his cock inside your mouth, your perfect lips and tongue making him lose his mind. 

“Fuck. Such a good cockslut.” He raised his hips just enough to reach deeper inside your throat, making you gag around him. The sound was beautiful to his ears, turned into a much more heavenly symphony when it quickly morphed into a muffled moan. Taehyung loved watching you struggle with his size, it made him want to break you apart. “You like my cock, baby?” 

You nodded, but it seemed like it wasn’t enough. Taehyung tugged in your hair, signaling that he wanted you to remove your mouth from him. He needed to hear you say it, and you were beyond happy to oblige. “I love it, sir,” you told him, your voice a bit groggy from your previous act. “So much. It’s so huge.” 

“Suck it harder, then.” His own voice was a bit airy, not so rough around the edges. He must’ve been close. “Show me how much you love it.” 

This time, just a simple nod from your part satisfied him, for he allowed your mouth to wrap around his cock once again. Without hesitation, you did as he told you to, sucking his cock harder, taking it deeper than you were before. Your new approach was a gift from god, it appeared, because it took you no time to have Taehyung’s animosity meeting away. 

“That’s it, that’s my dirty girl,” he praised, fingers intertwined in your hair. You could feel his big cock throbbing inside your mouth, releasing precum. It was just a matter of time before he spilled himself inside your mouth. “Gonna make me cum like a good slut.” 

You moaned around him, one hand moving down to play with his balls. Taehyung hissed at the sensation, throwing his head back and groaning something you couldn’t quite grasp. There were beautiful droplets of sweat accumulating just above his white collar — it was almost humiliating how naked you felt when compared to his dressed, composed self — and this thick neck seemed to be calling for you, wishing that you’d place hot, messy kisses all over it. But you couldn’t do it just yet, not when he was about to cum down your throat. 

Taehyung’s breath hitched and you instantly knew that he was just there. A couple more seconds and your theory was proven right: he grunted as his hot cum filled your mouth, a vague rising of his hips making his tip hit the back of your throat. “Fuck,” he cursed. “Don’t swallow yet.”

Oh he was in that mood, it seemed. 

Apparently your plan had worked better than expected, because it had been a long time since Taehyung didn’t ask you to swallow his cum right away. As much as he adored when you did that, he also loved seeing his cum on you — splattered on your abdomen, on your tits, on your ass; maybe running between your pussy lips after he was done fucking you or, in that case, in your mouth. You didn’t quite understand the appeal that it had, but who were you to judge? 

You removed his cock from your mouth soon after, filled with expectation as he shifted above you, leaning in closer. You blinked up at him as his hand found the underside of your jaw. 

“Let me see.” Taehyung pulled on your chin and you quickly got your cue, opening your mouth. A flash of lust shimmered inside his eyes at the sight of his cum inside your mouth, the corner of his lips being tugged upwards into a satisfied smirk. “Perfect. Swallow now.” He closed your mouth. 

Once again, you did as he commanded. “Thank you, sir,” you said. The discomfort between your legs was growing at a fast progression, monopolizing your mind — you had already been so good to your husband, did everything that he told you to, and now your own arousal was getting the best of you. You shifted around on the ground, your knees still hurting a bit. “Sir, please…”

Taehyung hummed, caressing your cheek. “What is it?” 

“I'm so horny, I wanna cum,” you whined. 

“Is that so?” Taehyung questioned, thumb caressing your bottom lip. It was a bit swollen after you had blown him, made him want to bite it. Instead, he leaned back against the couch. “Stand up.” 

You fumbled as you got up to your feet, unsure of what to do next. Luckily, you didn’t have to think about it for long, because Taehyung soon gripped you by the hips and pulled you closer to him, your shins knocking on the sofa. His fingers were surprisingly tender as they slowly navigated towards your pussy, pulling the dainty pink fabric aside. “Love the color,” he mumbled as if he was talking to himself. You were just about to thank him, but your words were ripped out of you when his finger sunk between your folds. “Look at my girl. Got this wet just by sucking my cock, baby?” He looked up at you. You felt dizzy under his intense gaze, barely nodding in return. He smiled. “How dirty.” 

You wanted to touch him, to find support on his broad shoulders, but you didn’t know if you were allowed to. Instead, you merely gasped as Taehyung started toying with your sensitive entrance, feeling as if your legs would fail you at any time. “Sir, please,” you pleaded once more, “I need you.” 

He hummed, one finger slowly entering you. You practically melted as Taehyung added a second one right away, curling them up in the way you loved so much. “Yes, darling, I heard you.” But it didn’t seem like he did, for his hungry gaze was trapped on the sinking of his digits inside your tight hole. You were so on edge that you could cum just like that; a few desperate whimpers already dripping from your lips as he continued his movements. Your sounds seemed to drag him back to reality, though, for he was soon removing them from your pussy, ignoring your frustrated cries. “Go to the bedroom.” His eyes snapped up at you. “You better be naked in bed when I get there.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

If you didn’t know Taehyung as well as you did, perhaps that command would’ve taken the worries off your shoulders. However, the thing was: when your husband was in that headspace, you could never really predict what would come from it. Just because he had sent you to the bedroom, it didn’t mean that he would suddenly become pliant and adamant to fulfill your every need — if anything, it meant that he had enough energy and discipline to spare. If he wanted to fuck you straight away (like you had begged him to), he would’ve just taken you on the couch, like he had done countless times before. No, the fact that he was sending you — alone — to the bedroom was probably not such a good sign. 

When you entered the suite, you started removing your bra, then your panties and, finally, the thigh high socks. You felt yourself become more and more uneasy as you laid down bare on the bed, feeling as small shock waves of anticipation ran through your body. Every time you heard a noise coming from somewhere else in the apartment, your heart missed a beat. 

Taehyung liked to make those moments as dragged-out as possible. He got some sick kick out of it, you guessed, probably made him feel like a predator stalking its prey, playing with its food. He liked to leave you wondering what he would do to you, and you couldn’t say you were bothered by it either. 

At last, when you thought that your heart was about to jump out of your chest, he walked into the bedroom, his slender fingers loosening his silk tie. It was a stark contrast how dressed Taehyung still was — everything still in place, with only the zipper of his pants still opened. He looked absolutely composed, his dark eyes following the curves of your body as he gradually approached you. 

“Beautiful,” he complimented, sitting down next to you. The bed dipped under his weight, making your breasts bounce slightly. His gaze fell over them and he hummed, one hand tenderly squeezing the flesh. You gasped at the sensation, which ripped a small chuckle out of him. “And so sensitive.” 

You didn’t know if it was the best moment to speak up, so you didn’t. Instead, you waited as Taehyung’s hand gradually made its way up your chest, towards your neck and, finally, to your cheek. There, it stayed for a moment, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. He really enjoyed doing that, it seemed. “Open up for me,” he requested. And so you did, lips parting so two of his fingers could enter your mouth. Taehyung pressed down on your tongue, making you release a small whimper, before allowing you to suck on his fingers. “That’s it. What do we say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you struggled to speak against his fingers. 

“That’s right.” Taehyung removed his digits from your mouth, lowering them until they were pressed against your clit. You moaned and raised your hips under the random surge of pleasure, but his other hand soon met the skin of your inner thigh, making you stand still. “Shhh, shhh,” he shushed you, “don’t move now.” 

Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly slid between your folds. The pressure was light, barely teasing your sensitive entrance before going back up to play with your clit. 

“So fucking soaked for me, doll,” Taehyung groaned, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth opened a little, allowing a small sob to fall from it. “Such an eager little pussy.”

“S-Sir,” you gasped, fingers digging to the pristine white sheets of your bed. You had just changed them, and now they were bearing witness to your sinful acts. “I want you.”

Taehyung hummed, apparently distracted with the sensation of your slickness covering him. “You have me, darling.” 

“N-Not your fingers,” you said. “Want your cock, please.”

The moment he stopped his movements, you realized you had fucked up. Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue that shot straight through your chest, quickening your heartbeat. “You’re so spoiled.” He removed his hand from your heat and you didn’t even find the force within you to complain about it. Not when he was looking at you with such a mixture of disappointment and frustration. “You tell me you want to cum, and then that my fingers aren’t good enough for you?”

“Sorry, sir,” you rushed to say, a frail veil of tears shimmering in your eyes. You felt like you had been edged for hours, even if that wasn’t the case. The sexual tension was just too high, leaving you so worked up that it hurt. And there was also an extra level of desperation knowing that your release wasn't exactly your decision at that moment. “Please, I need it so bad.” 

Taehyung scrutinized your face for a moment, watching the quick beating of your eyelashes and the thin layer of sweat that covered your skin. He felt a familiar sense of power washing over him, watching intently for every sign of pleading eagerness that covered your features. You looked so beautiful, he thought, so meek and polite under him. You had been so good, after all, there was no need to postpone your pain any further. 

But he would. For just a tiny bit longer. 

Taehyung breathed out. “You’re lucky I’m feeling nice. Turn around.” He slapped the inside of your thigh, a smirk blossoming at the corners of his pink lips as he watched you yelp in surprise. Still, you obeyed him once again, turning until you were on your stomach. “Hands and knees. Ass up. And don’t look behind you.” 

After you had positioned yourself, Taehyung started undressing. You could only hear the shuffling of his clothes as he gradually removed them — taking his sweet time as his eyes lingered on your form. He could see that you were still so absolutely soaked for him, the glistening of your pussy making his cock throb inside his underwear. He would tease you a bit further if he, himself, had it in him to wait a bit longer. However, at that moment, there was nothing that Taehyung wanted more than to be buried deep inside your cunt. 

You bounced up and down on the bed as he kneeled on it, hands on your hips tugging you towards him. You whined when you felt the pressure of his hard cock between your ass cheeks, your pussy clenching around nothing. Still, you waited for him to make the first move, since your latest attempt at asking for more had earned you a scolding from his part. 

And, apparently, not only that. All air ran out of your lungs when you felt Taehyung’s hand collapsing against the skin of your ass once, twice, until you were crying out. “Sir, wait—“ 

“Quiet,” he reprimanded. “You’re always misbehaving. Can you take your punishment now? Or are you going to keep complaining?”

That was his way of asking for your consent to keep going, you realized, and you promptly gave it to him. “Y-Yes, sir.” 

Another slap against your ass was what you recieved, this time on the other side. Taehyung’s palm was heavy on your skin, and you relished in the pain it left behind; your hands holding onto the pillows for any sort of grounding. “Good. Maybe this will teach you not to be so fucking spoiled,” he growled, hitting you once more. Your body jumped forwards a bit, legs weak beneath you. “Stand still.”

You tried your best to do so, enduring a few more spanks until Taehyung had deemed it sufficient. If you had been wet before, now you were completely drenched, every nerve on your body standing alert to the smallest of touches. So much in fact that, when he leaned in to place a kiss against your shoulder, you cried out at the feeling of his cock moving between your ass cheeks.

“Pretty.” His hand caressed the sensitive skin where he had hit you before. You flinched under his touch, but liked the stinging pain that came along with it. “Gonna fuck you now, love.” 

You could’ve sobbed in relief. “Yes, yes, please, sir.” 

Taehyung leaned back slowly, one hand curling around the base of his cock so he could guide himself inside you. His crown slid between your folds once, twice, making you whimper as it accidentally hit your clit. The sounds of your wetness were shameful, filling the room as he pressed himself against your opening. You sighed and whimpered at the feeling, for a moment thinking that your thighs would give out beneath you. Instead, Taehyung held you up as his cock gradually plunged inside you, stretching you wide. 

There hadn’t been as much preparation as you’d like, but the small rush of pain was a welcomed one. You moaned out his name as his big cock continued to sink inside you, feeling every inch of it as it filled you up. Taehyung was fucking huge and, even after so long by his side, you had never truly grown used to it. 

You gasped when he entered you completely, his hands giving a last pull on your hips to make sure that he couldn’t go any deeper. “S-So much,” you stuttered. 

He scoffed. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Now fucking take it.” Taehyung angled his hips back, sliding his cock out of your heat until only his tip was inside. He came slamming back in, sinking into your velvety walls like they were made for him to fuck. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, it’s just pulling me in. Dripping down my cock, fuck.” 

And you could only moan out at his filthy words, brain turning into a chaotic mess as he started drilling in and out of you. At that point, you had been so worked up that you could only focus on the amazing sensation of his cock fucking you open, so big and heavy inside you. 

From what you could hear, Taehyung wasn’t much different. His controlling attitude had started to wash away as his high started to approach; the room filled with the low grunts and moans that came from his throat. He was holding onto you so tightly that you thought he was going to break you in half, his thrusts deep, fast and precise. Really, it was shameful how close you already were, walls tightening around his length as your legs started to shake. 

“S-So good, sir, your cock feels so good,” you moaned out, lost in bliss. “I’m c-close.” 

“Cum all over my cock, baby,” Taehyung grunted. “Come on, be good for me.”

You nodded, clenching your jaw as you felt your pleasure rising at a thundering speed. Taehyung wasn’t planning on slowing down either, his cock hitting deep inside your pussy and making your eyes roll back. 

“Fuck, oh my—“ you cursed out, but could not finish your sentence. Your orgasm washed over you like an avalanche, whitening out your thoughts as your walls clenched around him; loud moans and whimpers of his name falling in a jumbled mess between your lips. “T-Tae…” 

The lack of his preferred title seemed to be lost on him, since Taehyung was also approaching his own climax. “So fucking wet. So tight and warm for me. Perfect little cunt,” he was talking to himself at this point, letting his thoughts flow out of his mouth with no apparent direction. “Wanna cum inside your pussy, doll. Fill you up so good.” 

You whined out at his words. You were still holding onto the pillows, trying to find any sort of foundation to fight against the sensitivity that was growing inside you. “P-Please, yes.” 

Taehyung growled at your words, pushing his body forward until he was squeezing you against the bed. The new angle made his cock hit different spots inside your cunt, a newfound wave of euphoria starting to buzz inside you. “Want that?” His voice was a rough moan against your ear, his breath kissing your skin in dense, hot clouds. “Gonna take my cum like a good slut?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, “I want it so bad.”

“Yeah? Wanna give you a baby, gonna look so fucking pretty for me.” Taehyung’s words hit you like a ton of bricks, making you clench around his cock. You had never realized that you wanted him to say that, especially in a context like that, but it made you melt instantly. And because he knew you so well, he rapidly noticed the way your body responded to it. “You like that?” 

You nodded. “Y-Yes.” 

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he moaned, placing a sloppy kiss against your neck. You could feel Taehyung throbbing inside you, signaling that he was close. “So fucking perfect. I love you so much.” 

“L-Love you too,” you said back. 

Taehyung sighed at your words, a last moan reverberating in his chest before he was spilling himself inside of you. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned at the feeling, getting utterly lost in the way that your walls milked his cock clean, taking everything that he gave you. “Fuck, that’s it.” 

With a final, shuddering breath, Taehyung collapsed against you, placing a bunch of kisses on your shoulders. You giggled at the random softness of his actions, feeling as his cock slipped out of you. He rolled around until he was falling backwards on the bed, a final puff of air exploding upon his lips. 

“Well, damn.” Taehyung laughed. You could only do the same, pushing your body closer to his. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

You rested your head on his chest. “Because adult life fucking sucks, that’s why.” 

“Fair enough.” He sighed. One of his arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close, kissing the top of your head. A fond smile curled up on your lips. “Was I too rough?”

“Just a bit, but I liked it.” You angled your head up to look at him. Taehyung took his cue to kiss your lips instead. “Can you get something to clean me up?”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m feeling pretty lazy right now. Besides…” he trailed off, “Kinda like you like this.”

You rolled your eyes, but the teasing nature of your tone gave your faux-annoyance away. “I figured,” you said. “Wanna talk about the baby situation?” 

Taehyung’s face swiftly grew serious. He apparently discovered a new source of energy, because, within a second, he was pushing you off and bolting out of bed. “Suddenly I need to find a towel.” 

And you could only laugh because, as it has been proven, you were kind of a mastermind when it came to making evil plans. If Taehyung needed another one to get him talking, you wouldn’t mind elaborating it. 

You wouldn’t mind at all. 

[captains-simp]

(Not me accidentally posting this when it was half done)

I knew I could count on you @wndrcarol for a jock!Carol request🥳 also....👀I heard you like Sharon

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

1.9k words

Warnings: harassment, degrading, face slapping, strap on sex, spitting, choking and hints of overstimulation

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You groaned in frustration when you finished checking the kitchen for your girlfriend. Everytime you went to a party with her the same thing happened.

You'd arrive, take a while to get comfortable and as soon as you did Carol would be whisked away by her friends leaving you to stand awkwardly in the corner. You really needed to get more friends. The ones you had never seemed to come to those parties.

You wandered outside onto the wooden decking area to get some fresh air and leant against the fence as you lazily scanned the area for Carol. You knew she wasn't out there, you had already checked.

Your eyes landed on a brunet who had been watching you carefully but the moment you locked eyes he scurried away back inside, not wanting to be seen near you. You smiled at the memory of the last time you had met at a party.

"There was only 10 seconds of the game left but I kicked the ball as hard as I could and it was on the last second of the game that it scored and we won!" Tyler exclaimed before taking another sip of his bear and gleamed at the memory.

"That's great." You said as you continued to scan the room for Carol.

"It was, you should'a been there." Tyler said as he looked back at you, or more he looked above the line of your low hanging top. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I was at Carol's game." Tyler didn't react to the mention of your girlfriend. It wasn't like he didn't know you were dating, everyone knew. Carol made sure of that.

"Unlucky, mine was a lot more interesting." He declared with a smug grin. A brief memory of Carol fucking you in the showers after that game flashed through your mind and you couldn't contain your smile at knowing how wrong the guy infront of you was.

Unfortunately, he thought that smile was at him.

"I had a pretty great game before that too. But it's getting kinda loud in here, wanna go somewhere more private?" He smirked in an extremely unattractive way.

"I'm good, I need to go find Carol." You said quickly, wanting to get the hell away from Tyler.

You hadn't seen Carol in a while. It was her idea to go to the party, it was an environment she thrived in. You, however, did not. It wasn't your scene and you didn't know anyone there, not well at least.

At some point through the mass of bodies, loud music and numerous people trying to get Carol to do shots with them or be on their beer pong team, you had been seperated from the Captain and you hadn't seen her since.

"Come on, I'm sure there's some spare rooms upstairs." There was a slight slur to his voice that made it even worse when he approached you and put a heavy hand on your waist.

"Get off me, Tyler!" You snapped and pushed his hand away but he continued with a frown.

"What? Don't you want this-" He was cut off when a fist shot out beside you and punched him across the face. Tyler staggered back, gripping his bleeding nose, as the people around you cheered loudly, oblivious to what had happened prior.

"Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend." Carol demanded as she continued to advance towards a cowarding Tyler who could only hold his hands out in defence. You pulled Carol away with to turn her towards you and Tyler scrambled to his feet to flee.

"Are you okay?" Concerned and familiar eyes met yours that instantly eased your worry. Carol brought her hands gently up to your face as she scanned you closely and you were surprised to see that she looked completely sober.

You nodded your head and breathed out a yes before you took her right hand away from your face to examine it carefully. The dull lighting in the room made it hard to make out but you could feel that there was nothing out of place.

"Come on." Carol said as she took your hand. "Let's get out of here."

Tyler had a bandage across his nose for a while. He had avoided you like the plague ever since, clearly have some sense in him.

"Want some company?" Came a voice from beside you. You glanced sideways and saw Sharon fall easily into place next to you. She mirrored your position of leaning against the barrier and gave you a knowing smile.

"Thanks." You breathed out, feeling kind of embarrassed someone had noticed Carol always seemed to ditch you at parties.

"No luck finding the girlfriend?" Sharon teased.

"Is it that obvious?" You asked but weren't sure you really wanted to know.

"You look like a lost puppy without her." Sharon chuckled making you flush. Maybe you were too clingy.

"She's the golden retriever lesbian." You corrected making Sharon laugh more.

"That seems about right." She went to move closer to you but a group of jocks spilled out onto the decking, without Carol among them.

"Fuck this." She huffed and took your hand to lead you over to the garden swing bench. Your hand felt like it was burning when she held it to pull you along. Although her hands were physically soft, they weren't the kind of softness you felt with Carol. It didn't make you feel warm inside, it made you feel uneasy. But it was a party, you had to hold onto people to move about.

Part of your brain pointed out that there was only a few people in the garden so there was really no need for Sharon to navigate you through it, while the rest of you really did just want some company.

Sharon sat down on the bench and you followed, feeling as though you could relax a bit more on the edge of the garden.

"You know, I think Carol's a very lucky gal to have you." Sharon said as she watched you closely. You laughed nervously as you noticed how close she was. You found yourself searching the garden for Carol again but Sharon lighting held your jaw and turned it back towards her.

"Pretty thing like you must surely be a lot of fun to play with." She smirked as her other hand crept onto your thigh.

"Um I d-don't-"

"Shh, you don't need to talk." Sharon cooed as she tilted your chin up more when you struggled to keep eye contact. The blonde glanced at your lips and licked her own before leaning forward slowly.

Until a strong hand wrapped itself around your bicep and yanked you from the bench.

You stumbled into a fuming blonde who was glaring at Sharon. You blushed deeply as you realised how it looked at what Sharon was most likely trying to do.

"You keep your fucking hands off of my girlfriend, Carter." Carol spat as her fists clenched.

"You really shouldn't leave her unattended?" Sharon said, amused by Carol's anger. "Who knows what could have happened." She winked at you and looked away instantly.

Carol scoffed simply as she continued to glare daggers at the woman infront of you.

"In your fucking dreams, she's mine." She all but growled as she pulled you away. You yelped as you felt her nails dig into your skin but didn't have the nerve to ask her to loosen her grip.

Carol pulled you through the crowded house and up to an empty bedroom that she shoved you inside.

"Did you enjoy that? Whoring yourself out to Sharon?" Carol asked as she threw you to the bed and started undoing her belt.

"No I-" You started as you went to sit up but Carol put a firm hand to your chest and pushed you back flat against the bed.

"Shut up, slut. I don't want to hear another sound out of you unless you're saying my name." She warned as she pulled her strap out and pulled your panties down.

You looked at her wide eyed, never seeing her so worked up before sex. Sure, you'd have a lot of needy, desperate sex and the occasional quickly, but she never showed so little regard to you before.

"What? Think I'm going to be nice to you and take my time? Want me to touch you gently? Whores don't deserve to be treated nicely. You don't get to prep my cock either." Carol taunted as she pushed the tip of the head in and kept it there as she stared down at you. "You'll have to just take it how it is, not that you'll have much of an issue. You've always got such a sloppy cunt."

"Please, Captain." You found yourself whining earning you a harsh slap to your left cheek. Your head whipped to the side and your cheek burned but Carol didn't seem to care.

"Who are you begging to fuck you?" Carol asked as she rocked her hips slowly as a reminder that you only had the very tip inside you.

"You Carol, I want my Captain's cock!" You cried out desperately.

"Only mine?" The blonde mused as she inched a bit more of the strap in.

"Yes Carol, only your cock. I only want you." You whined truthfully. Carol knew that of course, she knew you were incredibly loyal. That's what made the game so fun.

"Please! Please Carol I need you so bad. I want my Captain deep inside me, please please." You begged and felt as though you could cry in frustration.

"You really know how to plead like a whore, don't you. Did you learn that somewhere? Or are you just a natural cock slut?" She asked as she slammed her hips forward and filed you up with the strap at every angle.

You moaned loudly and threw your head back against the pillows as Carol set about her harsh and unrelenting pace. The thick strap filled you up entirely with every thrust. It didn't take long for your eyed to water from the sheer amount of pleasure she was giving to you so roughly.

Carol grunted as she pounded the strap into you and her grip on your wrists tightened, letting you know she wouldn't let go anytime soon.

"See? You've got such a sloppy pussy. And it's all mine." Carol spoke as she glanced down to look at your pussy taking her strap so well.

"You're gonna cum for me now. You're going to cum all over my cock." Carol demanded as she noticed your signs of approaching orgasm.

You cried out at the force of each of Carol's thrusts until it became too much to bear and you crashed over the edge without much to hold on to. As you did so, Carol brought her hand up and wrapped it tightly around your throat before giving it a quick squeeze.

"You belong to me, slut." Carol said as she continued thrusting mercilessly. She noted your blissed expression and open mouth and gripped your jaw tightly, much rougher than Sharon had. She pulled your face down with your mouth still open and spat. You moaned as you tasted her saliva on your tongue and around your lips. You swallowed it eagerly making Carol beam internally, not that she could let you know that.

"Cum again for me whore. I get to do what I want with you. So you're going to keep cuming until I get bored. I don't give a fuck if you get tired." She spoke next to your ear, poison dripping from her words.

"So fucking cum."

[mxchellesworld]

punk rock princess

spencer reid x reader

synopsis; where spencer’s working on the final paper for his third phd meanwhile you take on the task of making sure he takes a break.

warnings; smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, sub!spence if you squint, nipple piercings;),

a/n; i’m not saying this is my fantasy but .. this is my fantasy,, inspired by this song, y’all know the drill. you don't have to listen while reading but i always love to set the vibe. lastly y/n doesn't have any mentioned features or looks besides piercings/tattoos,, the rest is all up to you:)

pls send in feedback!

***

A shiver crawled down your spine from the first squirt of dye hitting your scalp. The bubblegum pink shade being a change from the firey red which inhabited your head a mere 24 hours prior.

The process was muscle memory at this point. Brushing out your hair then parting and sectioning it off. However that was the only methodical part. The fun was in slapping on the dye, not a single worry about staining your hands or neck.

The sounds of heavy drums and bass guitar bounced off the walls in the bathroom of the small apartment. Even though the door was shut it wasn't enough to stop the sound from flowing into the living room where your boyfriend was working.

Spencer sat at the dining table, flipping through copious amounts of folders and books. His third thesis in the process of being written. The computer screen in front of him looking back with a mocking glow. Since apparently things had to be digital now.

Your feet padding on the wooden floor made him look up from the pages. Humming to the music as you walked into your bedroom. Then back out a few seconds later holding a towel and robe.

A small smile tugged across his face. Ever since you had moved in together he loved to watch your day to day actions. The way you played your music concerningly loud, your skincare routine which included cleaning your facial piercings. What fascinated him the most was that in the 13 months you’d been together he’d seen you dye your hair 7 times.

Not including any touch ups.

He stood from his place at the table, making his way to the bathroom. Two quick rasps on the door to check if you were decent. The action made you giggle.

“Come in!” you called, “I don’t know why you knock weirdo you’ve seen me naked plenty of times.”

A blush spread across his cheeks from both your words and your state of undress. His eyes tried to focus on the splotches of color on the counter, keeping the blood flowing to the head on his shoulders.

But it was hard when the sheer bralette you had on did very little to hide the metal bars in each of your breasts.

“Spence?” you said snapping a fingers in front of him.

He cleared his throat, eyes snapping to your face which held a smirk.

“Are uh those n-new?” he questioned, hand going to scratch the nape of his neck.

The usual silver balls at the end of the bars were now tiny jewell hearts. The color was a little hard to tell due to the material of your bra but from the change in your hair he could almost bet money they were also pink.

With swift hands you unclipped your bra and threw it on the closed toilet seat before turning to face him.

“Got them when I bought the dye yesterday,” you said pushing your boobs up with your hands, “You like?”

Spencer’s eyes were as big as saucers, frantically nodding, “Y-yeah they look nice.”

You dropped your hands to your hips, tugging off the shorts you had on. The wide brown eyes before you couldn’t get any bigger, trailing down your frame stopping to admire the bar in your belly button along with the ink which littered your ribs.

He watched as you got to your knees, turning on the bath faucet. You dipped your head under the water, a stream of pink filling the tub.

The slope of your spine bent over was a sight he'd seen more than enough times. He could pinpoint the beauty marks on your left shoulder, the small sun he sketched which ended up permanently on the back of your neck. But if he let his gaze drift a little further south he could see how deliciously the dark lace looked barley covering up your most intimate parts.

A smack to his calf got his attention.

“Earth to Spencer! Can you hand me the shampoo,” you asked which came out sounding a bit muffled.

He quickly scurried to the tub and reached over to grab the bottle, squeezing a bit of gel onto your open palm.

"I'm gonna go work on my thesis some more," Spencer said slowly shutting the door behind him.

Making his way back to the living room, he pulled a few files and sat down on the couch. Glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and red pen between his teeth and he stared in concentration.

They were the same words he had read over and over again. The lack of sleep causing a dull ache in his skull.

"You need to take a break love," you said walking over and sitting next to Spencer on the couch.

"I did take one," he argued back flipping through the file.

"Gawking at me before I shower for 2 minutes isn't a break," you said with a giggle, the warmth flooding back to his cheeks, "Cmon 25 minutes at least without a file in your hand. "

When he didn't respond you took matters into your own hands. Ripping the file from his grasp, earning a grumble of disapproval before you straddled his hips. Your arms circled his neck and your hands went straight to the back of his scalp, fingertips running in soothing motions.

"Isn't this so much better baby," you asked whispering in his ear.

He nodded quickly, staying silent as he let his actions speak louder. His large palms went right to your plush hips. Bucking up as he led you to grind yourself on his lap.

Letting his hands explore the material of your satin rope he could feel the lack of undergarments on your frame. Spencer dared to let his hands dip under the black fabric and take each one of your cheeks in the palm of your hand with a gentle squeeze.

You could feel his cock stiffening under you. If you looked down you'd probably be able to see a wet spot on his sweats, most likely a mix of your arousals.

Leaning forward you let your lips attack his neck, placing sloppy kisses sure to leave marks. The process of licking and biting making Spencer hold onto you tighter, almost as if he had his very own vampire to mark him up.

Trailing up to his ear you bit on the lobe before whispering, "Tell me what you need baby."

Lust filled brown orbs met your own as you each continued your steady grind.

"Please fuck me," he pleaded.

If only he knew how wrapped around his finger you were. As pretty as he sounded begging you'd give him anything.

You pulled the metal frames off his face, tossing them to the other side of the couch. He had complained one too many times about foggy glasses during sex. No matter how cute you thought he looked.

Your hands slid down his torso and reached to pull down his sweats. His precum soaked length was heavy in your hands. Pretty pink tip leaky and throbbing already. The first few pumps had whiny moans slipping from his lips, red from biting so hard.

"Unwrap me baby, it's all for you," you said tilting your head down, motioning to the strings holding your robe together.

Quickly he let his slender fingers go to the ends, a swift tug and it was like opening a gift on Christmas. Leaning forward he let his lips wrap around one of your nipples. A strangled moan leaving your mouth from the stimulation.

With a raise of your hips you lined his cock with your opening before sliding down. You both sighed at the same time, the feeling of him stretching you out and your warm walls hugging his length was just too good.

Slowly you rocked your hips testing the waters, soft gasps and curses left your lips. You could feel very vein and inch stuffed inside you.

Spencer on the other hand was having an out of body experience, there wasn't an inch of your skin which was left untouched. Unkissed. After you were settled he raised his hips meeting you halfway with each thrust.

"You're doing so well baby," you cooed down at him, "You love when I ride you hm? Best fucking seat in the house."

His eyes shut closed in pleasure as your pace quickened, "Love it so much. So so pretty," he mumbled out.

His arms pulled you close again. Chest to chest as you continued your movements. Your lips met in a lazy kiss, panting in each others mouths when you ran out of air.

You could feel him pulsating inside you. The iron grip he had on your hips as he helped drive you up and down on his cock was sure to feel sore the next day. His shoulders were sure to have corresponding crescent marks from your nails digging in.

"Touch me Spence m'so close love," you said breathlessly.

One of his hands fell down to the space where you both connected. Skilled fingers rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves in quick circular motions.

Loud moans escaped your lips. Your head fell back to the familiar junction of his neck and shoulder, biting the skin in order to stifle your noises of pleasure.

"Y/n I can't hold it any longer, please cum with me," he whimpered out.

Nodding your head you grabbed onto the back of his neck, "Right behind you baby. Let go for me, I got you."

With a few more upward thrusts you felt him pull you down onto his cock, warmth spreading in your tummy. The feeling of his seed filling you up and his euphoric groans sent you over the edge.

You both rode out your orgasms, swiveling hips and satisfactory sighs of release leaving your lips.

After a few minutes of content silence listening to the music still flowing through the hall you moved to get up, the sticky mess between your thighs less than comfortable.

Warm arms kept you in place, denying your movement.

"Spence I gotta clean up," you said trying to push yourself off his chest.

"If I remember correctly you said at least 25 minutes and from my calculations I have 3 minutes and 38 seconds left of cuddle time," the lanky man under you said matter of factly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing but resting your head back on his shoulder, "If I get a UTI thats 3 minutes and 38 seconds of me playing screamo in your ear at full volume."

With one last squeeze he kissed the side of your head, the scent of ammonia only sightly bothering him, "Worth it."

[tetsvhoe]

hewwo, congratulations on getting 800 !! 🥳

for the event, can i request suna + this song (focus by h.e.r)?

https://open.spotify.com/track/3tZs3nVjySLbL320lP4mvs?si=pqCzLXBvRKKMit3m1bCgVA&dl_branch=1

— i think angst would be perfect for this, but i’ll leave it up to your wonderful creative freedom !! i hope you’re having a great day heh giving you tight hugs for this v wonderful milestone !! 🥰

FOCUS

character/s: suna rintaro x gn!reader

genre/s: ANGST YESSS FUCK I MISSED HURTING Y’ALL

warning/s: neglect, hurt no comfort so much for me not writing angst no comfort y’all what have i become

gwen's notes 🤍: thank u for requesting suna with this song it’s so fitting ugh i hope u enjoy and i also hope i understood u correctly with the angst, not angst/fluff jshdjhsda

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

it’s so unfair. suna has completely taken over your life and it hurts to know how you’re not even worth an afterthought to him.

sleep still clouds your mind but your hand feels for your phone aimlessly in a seemingly endless sea of fabric. you squint your eyes at the sudden invasive brightness, but you find no notifications from suna. no calls or texts even as you ended the night before on a sour note, he didn’t bother checking up on you. you sigh, rolling out of bed and making your way to the bathroom.

you stare at your reflection, barely able to recognize the person in front of you. your cheeks are sunken, eyes are puffy and dark circles underneath appeared more evident. your lips are chapped and hair lay flat and lifeless on top of your head. you heave another heavy sigh, turning the faucet on. you hope that the sound of running water washes away your thoughts and the heaviness in your chest you can’t shake off.

you shut your eyes, splashing your face with cold water but an image of him appears in your mind. it almost knocks you off your feet. you tried steadying your breaths, hunched over the bathroom counter. you have no idea how long it took for you to get ready.

you made your way over to his place in a blur too. he opens the door and rolls his eyes when he sees you. he leaves the door open and you let yourself in. as much as you hated being the one to come over to try and fix things, you knew nothing would happen if you left it up to him. besides, in the back of your mind, you knew you might walk out of the same door without fixing things—rather leaving them permanently broken.

you sit on a chair reluctantly as he lays back on his bed and scrolling through his phone again as if you weren’t there.

“suna,” your voice croaks and his name tastes bitter on your tongue.

“what?” he mumbles under his breath.

“we need to talk.”

“we’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

god, how painful is it that you’re barely able to keep yourself together from the sheer amount of pain and yearning in your chest and he sits right there. he’s right there and he doesn’t even feel half as miserable as you did, he didn’t even care.

“please god, please just pay attention to me. this is the last i’ll ever ask you to,” you sobbed, the aching in your chest seemed to claw its way from inside out.

he puts his phone down and looks at you, sees your for the first time in weeks, months even. he wonders if you always looked this pale and distraught.

“i can’t do this anymore. it hurts so much, so fucking much.” your entire body trembles as you sob, if he listens closely he could hear how the fragments of your broken heart rattles against your bones.

you get up and leave, not even waiting for him to say something. you on the other hand had so many more things you wanted to say but you were just tired. what difference would it have made anyway? he didn't listen then, we wouldn't listen now.

suna is too stunned to even chase you before you're out the door. he mulls over if he even wants to. you didn't mean it, right? you've said such things before but you always came running back to him. however, he can't shake off the look on your face. you looked so broken and hurt.

he wonder if he looked up from his phone and gazed in your eyes sooner, would he have seen the same lifeless void? maybe he wouldn't even be seeing it at all. if only he looked at you. even once. even if it was for a split second.