#am I making sense? I don’t know he’s just rotting my brain now don’t mind me losing it………fbskhfnsnhfnsnjfnndnnsnsnf

[bleue-flora]

[context] @richievent

Yeah, I think Dream wasn’t very secretive about his scars in the beginning of the server, more so proud about them and how he got them from some crazy manhunt stunt or narrow escape or whatever. But I think one reason he might more so hide his scars after prison is 1) nobody talks about it and they’re even hesitant to believe his statement about torture to begin with, giving me the impression that it isn’t super visible and 2) the scars from prison aren’t from triumph and survival and cool stories but of his weakest moments. Yes, he overcame torture, which is a victory, but he lost so much anyways. It’s a mark of weakness and when he was powerless and proof of the fact that he can be made powerless. 3) furthermore, I could see him not wanting to show that he has weakness and can be hurt, keeping up the show that he is some big scary force to be reckoned with. After all, I don’t think Sapnap or Tommy really fully grasped the extent of what happened and if there was not much visible proof I’m sure it would be hard to imagine one of the hardest guys to kill, who previously claimed to be a god, bleeding out into obsidian. 4) He was vulnerable and exposed and robbed of privacy for so long, so after prison I could see him cling to that security of privacy. A safety we know he likes based on him wearing a mask. Then again, would his mentality to say it’s not a big deal - they didn’t get the book anyways, overcome that to make him act more nonchalant about his scars like they don’t bother him.

I don’t know, but it’s that contrast, between the layers of pain and healing and his denial that make him so interesting and fun to write, the fight between shame and embarrassment and denial of what happened, and the refusal to appear weak, the - it didn’t affect him attitude, making him more project shamelessness, maybe even pride… it’s something I think is even more important if you like to ship and write more intimate touch, the conflicting reactions between his unbothered - “I didn’t give it up which is, you know… interesting” [clip] “your means were getting the revive book. Fair enough” - and his insistence that he was hurt and deserves revenge - “I’m gonna find him, I’m gonna torture him and I’m gonna kill him” [clip]… he’s just so…………………………... yeah.

[f1nalboys]

Come Inside - Chad Meeks-Martin

Chad Meeks-Martin x Fem!AFAB!Reader

hi guys. this is the fic that was giving me a massive amount of brain rot today!!! i dreamt this (yeah im lucky i know thank you) and havent been able to stop thinking about it since <3 shout out to tatianna (@castieltrash1) for reading it and doing some editing for me, she is the loml and u all need to follow her NEOW! (in fact, she has a charlie from scream 4 fic in the works and its DELICIOUS.) anyways hope u all enjoy this :3

WORD COUNT: 5384 (I KNOW TRUST ME)

WARNINGS: nsfw, first time sex, dub-con except not really?, chad begs to fuck the reader, male manipulator core, 'just the tip' turns into the full thing, unprotected sex, oral (afab and amab recieving,) dirty talk, praise, slight body worship, slight corruption, slight convincing so again, dub con to be safe, high/drunk sex, reader is more high than chad but neither are drunk but they drank if that makes sense, friends to lovers, im just in love with him you guys! reader wears a dress, chad calls reader good girl and pretty girl. actually proofread bc tati is a saving grace angel lady. <3

You feel him before you hear him. You’re at the bar, nursing your first drink of the night, trying to ignore the dull thud the music was giving you when suddenly there’s a large hand placed on the small of your back. “Can I get another beer?” Chad asks the bartender and you feel yourself relax at the sound of his voice, goosebumps rising on the exposed flesh of your arms as his thumb absentmindedly runs up and down. “Hey.” He tilts his head at you a bit. “Nice earrings.”

“Hi. I could say the same to you.” You look up at him and grin, matching his own wide and easy smile. Chad’s standing right beside you, toned body pressed against yours and you don’t know if it’s on purpose or just due to the crowd. “You having fun?” you ask as the bartender hands him the beer bottle. Chad takes a sip from it, looking down at you, grinning against the glass when he notices you watching the way his lips curve against the opening.

It was no secret in the group that you had a crush on Chad. It was hard not to have one on him; he was kind, funny, handsome as hell, and he always seemed to know just the right thing to say. “Now I am,” he teases and you roll your eyes, turning away from him to hide your grin. Just like that. “I’m getting fuckin’ bored though. Too many people. How about you? You find any lucky guys, Y/N?”

“Lucky guys?”

“You know, to take home?” He wiggles his eyebrows for added effect when you look back up at him. “I’m trying to ask if you’re gonna fuck someone tonight.” You nearly choke on your drink and he laughs, deep in his chest, and his hand which was still on your back begins to rub soothing circles. His hands are rough and calloused from his time playing football and they’re so big, with long thick fingers, and suddenly you’re shaking your head in an attempt to get the image of him using them on you, wherever he sees fit, out of your mind. “I take that as a no, then?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Yeah, no, not fucking anyone tonight,” you say, taking another sip of your drink and sighing. “And now my drink’s empty, the music here is too god damn loud, and you’re right, there’s too many fucking people here!” Shaking your head, you dig into the small clutch you had with you, fishing out a few dollar bills and placing them on the bar counter. “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Can I walk you home?” Chad asks, finally removing his hand from your back as you slide out of the bar stool. Your eyebrows narrow in confusion. You had one drink, were the furthest from being drunk you had been in your entire college career, in fact, and you only lived five minutes down the road. “C’mon,” he says, shrugging his broad shoulders and flashing you that fucking smile that always made your knees weak. “It’s late, I just wanna make sure you get home alright.” 

You pretend to think on it, letting out a small ‘hmm’ noise as you tap a finger to your chin. “Fine, but you have to come inside and sober up a bit before you leave.” Chad’s smile doesn’t go away at your request. In fact, it seems to grow. He takes out his wallet and places a few bills beside yours, grabbing the bartender's attention and letting them know you both had paid off your tabs before holding his arm out for you to grab. You do so with a shy smile, trying to ignore the feeling of him under your fingertips, or how close you were to him, or how he kept looking down at you with a smile, or even how his eyes kept darting to your lips. Everything he did seemed to be a deliberate attempt to get you worked up and it always fucking worked.

He leads you out of the club with ease and before you know it you’re out on the New York street. “Which way?” he asks and you nod to the right, following beside him at a slow pace. It was a nice night, a cool breeze helping to offset the hot air that had permeated the city during the day, and the lights and noises of the city still awake helped set you at ease. “You really weren’t having fun in there, were you?”

“Why do you ask?” 

“Because we got out here and you relaxed like you had just gotten out of a fight or flight situation.” He laughs and you smile at the sound. Chad was always grinning, always smiling, but he had been through some tough shit. You used to wonder how he was able to keep this positive attitude but then decided to let it go and try not to dwell on it too much. 

“It was just… too much, you know? Lots of people, lights, that music-”

“I just think you’re old.” You elbow him in the side and he grins. “You are! You sound like my mom.” Chad sniffles and places his free hand on his back, slowing down to an almost complete stop, speaking with a crotchety old-lady voice. “Back in my day, we went to the sock hop! We were pulled by a horse and buggy, not these cars! Your music is too loud, Chady-kins, turn it down!”

You both fall into a fit of laughter, picking back up the original pace you had set. “Chady-kins? Oh, I’m so stealing that.” He shakes his head at you and you giggle, leaning further into his grip. “I mean it! And I’m telling your mom you called her old.” 

You stop walking, finally outside of your apartment building. “Too far,” he says, his smile dropping ever so slightly when you let go of his arm in favor of typing in your door code. “Am I still invited in?” he asks and you look over at him. He’s leaning against the old brick building, the lights of the restaurant across the street bouncing off of his skin and his smile and his eyes and you’re nodding, face burning hot. “Yeah?” His voice is deeper than it was just a moment before and it makes you swallow heavily.

All you can do is nod. 

“Good. M’glad. You know I’m not drunk though, right?” he says as you two walk into your apartment building. He lets you go first, leading the way, but you can feel his eyes on your ass each time you move. You not-so-subtly sway your hips as you walk and you swear you hear him suck in a breath. “Only had a beer and a half before we left, so, no real need to sober up.”

“I’m not drunk either. You can still hang out for a bit, though, if you want?” He hums in agreement and then you’re at your apartment, digging through your purse for your keys. “It’s a little messy in here,” you say sheepishly as you open the door, revealing the mess you had left behind in your attempt at getting ready to go out. Chad just laughs, kicking his shoes off at the door and locking it behind him. “I couldn’t figure out what to wear.”

Your heels are finally off and you hurry around, picking up the pile of clothes you had left on your bed and floor, shoving them in your closet and hamper. “Well I’d say you landed on something good,” Chad says from the kitchen, his voice muffled as he bends down and peers into your fridge. “Because you look fucking hot.” You squeak out a thank you and busy yourself at your desk, fixing up the few items you had left out and trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, poking your head over and seeing Chad in the living room. He turns around and holds up the ashtray you had left on your coffee table, an unsmoked blunt still on it. “You wanna smoke?” you ask and he nods. “Go ahead. You want something to drink?”

“Water’s fine. You’re not gonna smoke with me?”

“I don’t know,” you say, passing by him as you head into the kitchen to grab two water bottles for the both of you. “I get sorta… weird when I smoke.”

“Weird? Weird how?” Chad asks and you hear the sound of your lighter sparking as he sits back on your small couch with a groan. “Do you, like, talk about conspiracies or some shit? Because I’ve smoked with Mindy before and it’s either that or her talking about whatever girl she’s in love with that day.” You chuckle, face heating up as you turn around and see him on the couch. He’s sitting with his legs spread and you realize instantly how well-fitted his jeans are, tight around his thighs. His head is back on the couch looking up, eyes closed as he takes another hit. Smoke plumes around him in a lazy rolling fog. 

You nudge him with the bottle and he takes it with a thank you. Sitting down beside him, you tuck your legs up, knees pressed against his thigh. God, his thigh. You look away from them, opening up your own bottle of water and taking a few slow sips, the image of you riding his thigh, his hands on your hips, building in your mind. 

“So? How weird is weird?” Chad questions, holding the blunt out to you. You consider it for a second, eyes flicking between it and his face which was turned towards you. You couldn’t tell Chad that the ‘weird’ you got was different from what he was imagining. You didn’t spout off conspiracies about the government, or get paranoid. You got horny, and being around him would only make that ‘weirdness’ worse. The days alone when you would smoke, you’d find yourself in bed, hand between your legs, moaning his name. “C’mon.” 

It’s all the encouragement you need and you pluck it from his fingers and settle back into the faux leather of your couch. “There you go,” he says, taking the time to let his eyes drag down your body while you’re taking a hit.

The dress you wore fit you great, tight against your body, the color complimenting your skin tone. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of you since he saw you tonight from across the bar, nursing his drink for ten minutes before Mindy had shoved him towards you, telling him that if he didn’t make a move on you she would on his behalf. And now here he was, smoking with you, so close on the couch that he could practically feel your pulse under his skin. He wanted you so badly and everything that came with it, the good and the bad. 

The two of you pass the blunt back and forth a few times, talking about nothing in between, but you were being affected far more than Chad was. “Are you even inhaling?” you ask with a giggle, passing it back to Chad. He rolls his eyes, taking a large hit in order to prove that he was. “Alright, alright. Show off,” you mutter, blinking heavily. “How come it’s hitting me harder than you?” you whine, shaking your head when he offers the blunt back to you. “I can barely even think straight. M’all… fuzzy.”

“I’m cooler than you, duh,” Chad says with ease, taking a hit and waiting for your laughter to die down before blowing the smoke into your face. You let him, blinking, pupils wide. He thinks you look pretty normally, but he thinks you look beautiful like this. He leans over and places the roach onto the ashtray, sighing as he leans back, his left hand resting on your thigh. You swallow heavily, your vision fuzzy. Your dress had ridden up quite a bit now and his hand was so warm against your flesh. He’s looking at you with such an intense look it has you squirming, face hot when he laughs at you. “I wanna kiss you.”

You blink, sure you misheard him. “What?”

“I wanna kiss you. Like,” he laughs, shaking his head slightly. His brown eyes seemed to sparkle in the lamplight, the whites of his eyes red, pupils blown out. “So fucking bad.” His other hand, the one that had been resting on his thigh, comes up and he places it on your cheek. His thumb runs along your cheek, catching the corner of your mouth. His touch is gentle but everything is so intense still, your skin feeling like it’s on fire, burning against his own. “Can I? Please?”

You nod, closing your eyes when he grins and leans in. The kiss is slow, each movement of his lips done with a purpose. His hand drags from your cheek to the base of your neck, pushing you into his kiss, his touch, just a bit more. You follow his lead with ease, mind too hazy to try and take over. 

He pulls away for a moment to catch his breath, staring into your eyes. “Fuck,” he mutters and he’s kissing you again, harder this time, sloppy. His tongue is slipping inside your mouth and you let out a soft moan, his hand on your thigh dragging upwards, pushing past the fabric. “So fucking hot,” He mutters against your lips, and then you can feel the top of his fingers brush against your underwear, right over your hips, and you’re pushing his hand away gently. “What? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m okay.” He’s still looking at you, hands dropping to his sides, and he looks worried. You can tell he’s wracking his brain for what he did, if he had gone too far somehow. “I’m a virgin.” You blurt it out and squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed. When you had felt his fingers up your skirt it had hit you that if it continued he’d be touching you, that you want him to touch you, but that you weren’t sure if he’d want to.

“So?” Your eyes pop open. Chad is staring at you with a kind smile, dimple evident on his cheek, and you feel your face heat up. “I mean, I’m okay with it if you are, you know?” His hand’s on your leg again, fingers dragging up and down your thigh slowly. “Are you nervous about it?”

“I didn’t know if you’d be alright with it.”

“Well, I am. Besides, wouldn’t it be good to lose it to me?”

“What do you mean?”

Chad’s smile grows and he leans in, lips close to yours. You close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. “You know me, right?” You hum. You want him to kiss you again. “You trust me too, right?” Another hum and this time you're leaning in a little bit, a whine stuck in your throat when he pulls away. “Then you should know that I’d make you feel good. I’d take my time when I touch you,” His hand is up your dress again and your body jerks involuntarily into his touch. “That I’d take good care of you and your virgin pussy.” 

He brushes his fingers up your inner thigh and your legs spread instantly, giving him room. He grins at the sight of you, eyes closed, disheveled, breathing hard, legs spread and hand gripping his forearm. “Please?” you ask and then he’s kissing you, finally, and his fingers are brushing against your clothed clit. You keen into his touch, whining into his lips, but he doesn’t stop. 

His fingers begin to rub slow circles against you, a good amount of pressure, and it feels so different from when you touch yourself thinking of him. Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the fact that this is happening, but everything is almost too much. You’re surrounded by him in every way possible, his very being filling your own body, replacing your own needs. All you want is for him to feel good, for him to moan, for him to gasp at each press of your hand against him, for him to be begging for more without even realizing he’s doing it. 

You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel.

“More?” Chad asks, parroting your own words back to you with a smile, taking his lips away from your own, his fingers speeding up. His nose is brushing against your neck before he’s kissing it, biting down against your pulse gently, soothing it with his tongue. “Bet you’re close aren’t you, Y/N?” His voice is right there in your ear, breath hot against your skin, but you can barely focus on that. “C’mon, be good for me and cum, okay? Please? Fuck, need you to cum so bad, baby.”

“Gonna-” Is all you get out before he’s biting down onto your neck again and pressing down hard onto your clit and then you’re cumming, nails digging into his arm, a moan stuck in your throat. “F-fuck, Chad, shit!” His fingers don’t slow down for a second but he’s moving off of you, pushing your dress up your body and pulling your underwear down in one fell swoop. 

He shoves your legs apart and you take a second to catch your breath, looking down at him as he slides down the length of the couch. His eyes are glued to your pussy, fingers swiping through your folds and popping them into his mouth with a groan. “Taste so fucking good, so sweet,” he says, prodding at your hole with his middle finger, looking up at you. “Can I taste you?”

You nod, heart hammering out of your chest, and watch as he leans in, breathing in deep, eyes fluttering closed. As his tongue flicks over your clit he pushes his finger inside you slowly, just to the first knuckle, and your hip bucks at the intrusion, forcing his thick finger deeper inside you. 

“Relax, it’s okay,” he soothes, watching your eyes squeeze at the feeling. His fingers were thick, stretching you out with just one, and his tongue kept moving, swirling around your clit and sending shockwaves up your body. You try to focus on relaxing your body and when he feels you do so he pushes his finger in all the way. “There you go, good girl,” he coos, spitting onto his finger as he begins to pump it inside you. 

Chad is moving slowly, finger pumping in and out at a snail's pace, tongue moving even slower somehow. It almost hurts how slow he’s going and you know it’s to prepare you, to make you want him more than you already did. He wanted you drunk on his touch. “Faster,” you gasp and you can feel him laugh against you. “More, please, Chad?” You feel another finger press at your hole and you could cry, your body begging for more. 

The stretch is only a little painful, his tongue helping to soothe the ache. You can feel the knot in your stomach growing with each quickening pump of his finger, each swirl of his tongue, and you swear you see stars when he scissors his fingers inside you. One of your hands grabs onto his head, pulling his head in closer to your cunt, hips rocking up to meet his fingers and tongue, grinding against him. 

You cum without warning, your cry caught in your throat when he pushes in a third finger. It was too much. Your brain was still fuzzy from smoking and everything he was doing to you was heightened. You could feel every taste bud on his tongue as he flicked it against your clit, every groove in his fingers as they pumped inside you. 

“Ok, ok, too much,” you get out and he stops, finally pulling away from you. His fingers are coated in your cum and you watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he sucks on one of his fingers, groaning at the taste of you, before holding his other two fingers out for you. They press against your lips and your mouth parts, tongue sticking out, and you wrap your lips around them as he pushes them inside. 

“Don’t you taste good?” he asks with a grin, leaning over you, his free hand resting on the arm of the couch beside your head. You hum, swirling your tongue around his digits. Your hands begin to fiddle with his belt, tugging at it, and he grins. “Wanna suck my cock, that it?” You nod, his fingers still inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. “Yeah, I bet you do. Bet you’ve thought all about my cock inside your pretty mouth haven’t you? Fuck, you’re so pretty, you know that?”

You grin, running your hand down his face, mimicking what he had done to you earlier, thumb brushing against the corner of his lips.“You’re pretty,” you say, compliment muffled by his fingers in your mouth, and he gives you a soft laugh, his head falling to hide his grin. He finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a small string of saliva connecting them to your lips. “Wanna touch you,” you whine, going back to working on his belt. 

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says, leaning back and shoving his jeans down. He leans backward on the couch, jeans tossed onto the floor, his cock straining against his underwear. You’re practically salivating by the time you are leaning over him, placing soft kisses over the fabric of his underwear, looking up at him through your lashes. “Hey, I didn’t tease you,” he says with a sigh, eyelids heavy with lust at the feeling. He had been hard since he kissed you and the taste of you was still lingering on his tongue and he swears it‘s fucking him up more than the weed did. 

You finally tug at his underwear, pulling them down just enough to pull his cock out. He grabs your wrist, turning your hand palm up and spitting in it, giving you a wink before leaning back, arms behind his head as he enjoys the show. “I’ve never…” you say, suddenly nervous. It was clear to you that Chad had experience in this regard with how easily he had made you cum and you were beginning to worry that you were in over your head, too nervous and inexperienced and high to make sure you did alright.

“That’s alright,” he says, giving you a soft smile, one that instantly quells your anxiety. “Just take your time with it, okay? There’s plenty of time for me to teach you, okay, pretty girl?” You nod, wrapping your spit-slick hand around his cock and he hisses, head tilting back as you begin to stroke him. You start off slow, tightening your grip at the base of his cock and loosening it when you get to the top, swiping your thumb over the tip. “Fu-uck,” he says, tripping over his words with a laugh and a thick swallow. “You sure you’ve never done this before? Feels fucking amazing, Y/N.” 

Leaning down, you keep your eyes on him as you lick over the tip of his cock, collecting the bead of precum there and swallowing it. He groans and you can feel him throb under your hand. You flatten your tongue and lick from the base of his cock up to the tip, following the prominent vein he had, and his hips buck at the feeling. This is exactly how you wanted him; his eyebrows scrunched together, eyes struggling to stay open at the feeling of you, him fucking into your fist with an eagerness he couldn’t control. You were making him feel good and fuck, it went straight to your cunt. 

You don’t try to take all of him in your mouth. It was like he said; there would be plenty of time for him to train your throat, just like he had always dreamt of. You keep your hand on him, moving at the same pace, and you take the tip of his cock in your mouth, swallowing around it. He was big, bigger than any toy you had used before at the very least, and when you take him a bit further down he bucks his hips, plunging his cock down your throat. You gag and pull off of him and he’s apologizing.

“Sh-shit, sorry! Sorry, Y/N, just, fuck, your throat felt so good, couldn’t help it. C’mere.” He pulls you in for a kiss and you know he’s sorry but even if he wasn’t you wouldn’t care. It hits you then, while his tongue is down your throat and his hand is cupping your cheek, that you’d let him do anything to you and that you’d thank him for it. “Can I fuck you?” he asks, pulling away from your lips and resting his forehead on yours. 

“I don’t know…” you start, chewing on your bottom lip. “You’re big… it’s gonna hurt.”

“How about just the tip, then? If you want more we’ll keep going, if not, that’s fine.” You ponder the offer for a second. He told you he’d take care of you, that he’d take his time, make sure it felt good for you. “Don’t you trust me, baby?” You do trust him. You know him, just like he said. You nod and he smiles. “Good girl. Okay, let's go to the bed, yeah? I’ll get you out of this sexy fucking dress and I’ll make sure you feel good, alright baby?”

He helps you stand and keeps kissing you, unzipping your dress as he moves you through the apartment, pulling your straps down. The dress is pulled off of you a second before your knees hit the back of the bed and you’re both falling onto it, giggling. “Hi,” you say, hands on his shoulders. He grins.

“Hi.” Chad stands, pulling his shirt off and tugging his underwear off, tossing both somewhere behind him. You both take a moment to stare at the other, nervous giggles leaving your lips. You had dreamt of this moment dozens of times before, had cum to it just as often, and now it was happening and it was somehow better than what you had ever thought up. “Look at you,” he says, hands dragging up your legs to your chest and back down again. He’s slotted in between your legs and you whine, wrapping one leg around him and pulling him in closer. “Use your words.”

It’s the first time he was really telling you to do something and you swallow heavily. “Please, Chad, can you?”

“Can I what?”

“Can you fuck me? Please? I want you to take my virginity so badly, I need it, please? I’ve thought about it so much, wanted it for so long.” You’re whining now, begging, and you swear you can feel the tears begin to fill your eyes. He’s smiling down at you and his eyes are so dark you’re not sure how much of his iris is left. Your legs spread for him when he nods and you watch with bated breath as he grabs ahold of his cock, spitting on it, before swiping up your slit.

He groans at the feeling. “So wet, baby. Bet your pussy will let me just slide right in.” He pushes the head of his cock in slowly and you gasp, tears filling your eyes at the stretch. It felt good but it hurt and you can feel him rocking his hips ever so slightly, pulling out and pushing back in, never going too far inside you. His hands are on your thighs, digging into your flesh, and you’re overwhelmed again. 

The two of you stay like this a moment, the head of his cock pushed inside, your cunt clenching around him desperately. When he leans down over you, resting his forearms beside your head, he pushes in just a bit more and you whimper at the feeling. Chad wipes a stray tear off of your cheek and kisses you, short soft kisses in an effort to distract you from the pain and him from the overwhelming urge to push all the way in.

“Can I move more?” he whispers against your lips and you shake your head a little, too fuzzy to really think about it. “Please?” he whines, nuzzling into your neck. “Don’t I feel good, baby? Doesn’t my cock feel good inside you?”

“It does-”

“It’ll feel even better all the way inside.” His voice sounds so desperate and now he’s rocking his hips further, plunging another inch inside you and you moan because he’s right, it does feel good. The burn and pain of the stretch have gone away, giving way to pleasure. You want more, you want him, you just don’t know how to say it. “Please, baby, fuck. Your cunt feels so good, so fucking tight and wet and fuckin’ perfect for me. Let me fuck you, god, I need it so bad. Don’t you trust me? You know I’ll take care of you, right?”

You nod, babble out some response close to ‘yes, please, more,’ and then he’s pushing all the way inside, hips snapping forwards. You yelp at the intrusion, caught off guard by how full you feel, and then he’s thanking you over and over and over again as he sets a brutal pace. Chad’s weight is fully on you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. He can’t get enough of your skin against his, of the noises you make, of the way your pussy clenches around him and pulls him in closer, milking his cock. 

“Thank you, oh fuck, thank you, Y/N. Christ, so tight.” His voice is cracking, raising an octave as he begins to lose himself in the feeling of you around him. The pain of his thrusts is quickly overtaken by the pleasure and you’re moaning, wrapping your legs around his hips, driving him deeper inside you. You both could die happy like this. “So close, fuck, how am I so close already?” He’s talking more to himself than you at this point and that’s okay because you’re too focused on the building pleasure in your gut to care. 

The position you’re in has his pelvis grinding against your clit with each thrust and you swear your mind melts just a little bit more each time he fucks into you. “Please, please, please,” you say and you’re not sure what you’re pleading for but all you know is you don’t want him to fucking stop. You’re right there on the edge, can feel it through your entire body, and then Chad is moaning your name loudly and you feel him cum inside you, hips flush against yours.

You cum at the feeling of him filling you and he whines, hips rocking as you pulse around him. He’s sensitive, his head swimming, and the two of you stay like that for a moment, his head in your neck and your arms and legs wrapped around him. “So good,” he finally says, pulling his head back to look at you, his eyebrows stitching together. “You okay? M’sorry, I got carried away, I didn’t even ask-”

“It’s alright,” you say, running your hands up and down his back. You can feel him shiver underneath your touch. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” he teases, kissing you on the lips a few times, biting down on your bottom lip as he pulls back. “Wanna do it again?”

You gasp as his hips begin to move again, the squelch of your cunt and his cum being fucked back into you filling the room. “Y-you wanna go again? Already?” He nods, hand snaking down in between you two, pressing against your sensitive clit and grinning when you whine. “If you can handle it.” You nod despite not knowing if you could; he grins. “My good girl, right? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you cum till you’re stupid. You’ll look so pretty when you’re dumb on my cock, won’t you?”

[heartcereql]

without you

✩lo’ak sully x fem!na’vi!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒- lo’ak can’t help feeling insecure. you could have anyone you wanted, yet you chose him? ࿐࿔*:･ﾟAll my dreams and all the lights mean Nothing without you ࿐࿔*:･

𝐂𝐖- reassurance, kisses kisses kisses, established relationship, like one angsty moment, english is not my first language.

𝐀/𝐍- lo’ak is so bbg. so sorry for disappearing i had like 9284747 things going on also besties i need ideas for ride bc it’s a masterpiece and i don’t wanna ruin it :(( xxx

pandora’s skies acquired a captivating shade of blue during late mornings, almost reaching midday. flocks of birds could be observed, wandering above the forest, and, if you were lucky enough, there were little clouds hovering above the forest, letting the sun rays warm your skin, without making it insufferable.

that’s why you and lo’ak could spend the morning focused on each other, under the hypnotising sky, talking about everything and nothing, melting into the other’s company.

your head laid on his chest, rising as he breathed, hearing lo’ak’s comforting heartbeat. one of his hands secured you by your waist, while the other one was tangled in your hair.

your mind drifted to the pleasant sensation that you’d always get when you were with lo’ak. he didn’t know, but he was the one that saved you from the dark side of your life no one knew about. he was the reason you kept trying, and you thanked eywa for a man like him.

everyone thought you had it all, but it meant nothing without him.

lo’ak, as head over heels as he was, was starting to feel doubts rotting his brain. you were like a gift fron eywa, to him? why would eywa gift him?

overthinking was clouding his mind. in all seriousness, why him? he often thought of himself as cool, except when it came to the romantic area.

you glanced at his frowning gaze. you kissed the corner of his lips, hoping to get him away from whatever was upsetting him. but he only sent a smile your way, continuing to ponder instants after.

you found yourself frowning now. intertwining lo’ak’s fingers with yours, you caressed the back of his hand.

“lo’ak?” you decided to break te arising tension. “is something wrong?”

“i don’t get it” he mumbled.

you lifted your face from his chest, looking at him with confusion.

“you could have anyone you wanted. you’re literally perfect, in every possible way, and you’re here with me? i’m sorry but it doesn’t make sense” he rambled.

you were now propped on your hands, supporting them on either sides of lo’ak.

you knew that despite his fierce and extroverted personality, lo’ak was insecure when it came to your relationship. and you didn’t mind to reassure him every single time he had doubts, even more, you adored doing it.

“lo’ak” you tried to interrupted him, softly.

“no, i’m serious this time, y/n” he had raised his voice a little. “why be stuck with me when you have all those-“

“lo’ak i’m not stuck-“ you tried to speak again, but he didn’t let you.

“was it out of pity? just for fun? a dare?”

“lo’ak!” you grabbed his face in your hands. “can you hear me for once?”

he went quiet. his name rolling off your tongue tingled his ears, and he took a moment to admire the determined yet gentle look on your face.

“lo’ak, i see you. and i am not with you out of pity or for fun, but because i feel seen with you as well. and i have come to realise that i am nothing without you. all my dreams and all eywa’s lights mean nothing without you”

you pressed a peck to his temple, as a gesture of tenderness.

“everyone is always saying life is beautiful, and they think that i have it all. but may my life be as sweet as vanilla that i have nothing without you, lo’ak”

the hands holding his face were now caressing his cheeks. lo’ak was out of words. he knew you had no problem in reassuring him, yet he had never seen you express it with such emotion until now.

you feather-like kissed the top of his nose.

“i” peck “see” peck “you” peck “okay? and no amount of good hunters or fine suitors is going to change that”

he was mesmerised by your words. as weightless as they could have been taken, they meant the world to him.

he tried to elaborate a worthy response to you. but he was at a loss of words. in the best way possible.

one of his hands went to cup your jaw.

“you got it?” you asked in a hum.

he nodded, leaning to connect your lips. you met him halfway, eager to show him how much he meant to you.

“i got it” he mumbled against your lips.

[sodobabe]

I’m With You Always: GN Reader x Aether x Dew x Swiss (Poly Relationship)

A/N: I have been wanting to work on a fic where a ghoul, or in this case, three ghouls, take care of the reader while the reader is suffering through a depressive episode and finally breaks down. This was originally just going to be Aether x reader but I got carried away so the reader is in a poly relationship with Aether, Dew, and Swiss. If polyamorous relationships are not your thing, just skip this. If they are your thing, enjoy this heartwarming fic of three ghouls taking care of their mate.

Warnings: A WHOLE LOT OF ANGST mentions of self-hatred (reader has semi-suicidal thoughts), mention of nausea, tooth rotting fluff,

You sat in the library by yourself, letting your brain rot with bad thoughts. I don’t deserve anything. I am nothing. Maybe the world would be better if I was dead. The thoughts were all consuming. You had been feeling this way for quite some time now. Even members of the abbey could tell as they would always ask if you were feeling okay because you did not seem like your normal self. You closed your eyes, hoping to hold back your tears, but alas, you failed. You curled up in the window bench as you watched the rain splash into the already forming puddle on the sidewalk. The more you watched the rain, the more it seemed as if your tears matched its pace.

As you sat there, paying no mind to anything other than the thoughts in your head, you heard a ruckus coming from across the library. You turned your head to see who it was and quickly snapped your head back around hoping that Aether, Swiss, and Dew didn’t notice you curled up in the window. You focused your attention back on the growing puddle. It was hypnotizing. It gave you time to create worse thoughts. What if I jumped out of the window? Would I die, or would I just suffer more because I would only be severely injured? The thoughts were growing with more and more morbid details. You closed your eyes to try to quiet your mind.

As your mind continued to race, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You realized it was getting harder and harder to fill your aching lungs. Fuck. They’re going to sense my distress. You were absolutely correct. You felt a stronger hand on your shoulder. You knew it was Aether. You knew his familiar touch, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look at such a caring ghoul.

”Y/N? You alright, love?” Aether's voice was as smooth as the calm ocean.

All you could do was shake your head as a torrent of tears ran down your blood red cheeks. You tried to take a deep breath to sooth yourself, but a sob was let out instead.

”Oh, my little love. It’s okay, shhhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” Aether softly spoke, as he picked you up from your window.

You lost it, you sobbed into the warmth of his chest as he carried you out of the library, motioning for Swiss and Dew to follow him. You couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to. Aether gently carried you back to his room in the ghoul den and placed you softly into his nest. As you felt all of Aether’s engulf your aching body, you curled in on yourself, hugging your knees, and essentially curling up into a ball. You felt the bed sink next to you as Aether sat down and gently placed a hand on your back.

“Dew, can you go fix up some soup and grab some ginger ale?” Aether asked, knowing that you would make yourself nauseous by working yourself up.

”Sure thing, any type of soup?” Dew asked as he made his way out of Aether’s room.

”Anything we have, they’re not picky,” Aether said with a light chuckle.

”Swiss, can you go to their room, grab their stuffie, a fresh pair of clothes, and the book they’ve been reading that is on their bedside table?” Aether asked the multi.

Swiss didn’t reply. He simply nodded and made a beeline for your room. Aether stood up from the bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants and abandoned his shirt. He knew that you enjoyed feeling his bare chest. At this point, he was willing to do anything to get you calm enough so you did not make yourself sick. He crawled back into bed with you, sat against his head board, and pulled you to his chest. Your head met his chest and you knew you would be okay, however, you could not bring yourself to stop crying.

”Don’t worry, my love. I’ve got you now. I’ve got you forever. No need to worry. I am here, as long as you need or want me to be,” Aether cooed into your ear.

You laid on the quintessence ghoul, listening to his heart beat, trying to steady your mind. You weren’t even sure what you were thinking anymore. You were just feeling emotions that you had been keeping to yourself. Aether continued to rub gentle circles on your back and gently shush you as you tried to gather your emotions. You were happy knowing that he still cared about you, even at your lowest like this. His very essence was enough to calm you to the point that your eyes stopped producing tears. Once you thought you were calm enough, you looked up at Aether who was looking back at you.

”Hey, lovebug. You’re okay,” he said before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

”Aeth, I- I’m sorry,” you mumbled out.

“What are you sorry for?” He questioned, confusion flushing over his face.

“For being like this. For being an emotional mess all the time. I wish I wasn’t like this. I hate it. I hate myself for it,” you began to babble.

“Hey, stop that. You’re allowed to feel feelings, but you are not allowed to hate yourself. I won’t allow it. You are an amazing human being. You are the kindest soul I have met. You are worthy, Y/N. Do not let anyone tell you differently, even yourself,” he said, reassuringly.

The tears started again as you thought he was mad at you for saying you hated yourself. He pulled you closer to him, and started to gently rock you back and forth, trying to get you to calm down again.

”Shhhhh, Y/N. I am not mad at you, my little love. I am simply trying to reassure you of what a great person you are. I could never be mad at you, ever,” he said as he resumed rubbing your back.

As he continued holding you, Dew walked back in with your soup and ginger ale. You needed it, you hadn’t eaten in two days. You needed to eat but could not bring yourself to do so.

”Hey, little firefly. I have soup and fizzy ginger juice,” Dew said with a chuckle to himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the fire ghoul’s dry sense of humor, even if tears were still pouring out of your eyes. Dew sat down in the nest next to Aether and held your soup, waiting for you to sit up and take a bite.

”Wanna try and eat? You can sit up, we aren’t going anywhere,” Aether reassured, noticing your tight grip on his upper body.

Once you realized that you were surrounded by the ones you loved, minus Swiss for the time being, you started to relax. You mustered up the strength to pry yourself off of the warm quint ghoul, and took the bowl of warm soup from Dew.

“It might be a little cooler now, want me to warm it up for you?” Dew asked, holding out his hands.

”No, thank you, it’s a good temperature,” you said as you finished your first bite.

The soup felt good going down. It was warm enough to warm you up, but not scorching hot. You did a little shimmy as you continued eating your soup. You looked up at the two ghouls who were staring back at you, smiles spread across your face. As you continued eating your soup, Swiss bolted back into Aether’s room with your stuffie and a pair of clothes for you.

”I’m back, sorry it took so long, Rain was being needy, as always,” Swiss said as he handed Aether your stuffie and put your clothes on the couch next to Aether’s bathroom.

He crawled into the bed on the other side of Aether and snuggled into the quintessence ghoul’s side. Swiss had joined the relationship that you, Aether, and Dew had formed. You loved all three of them equally, as they loved you and each other equally. They each helped you through depression in different ways. Aether was always the one to hold you while you cried, well they all did that, but Aether was different. He was more soothing. He didn’t force you to talk about anything if you did not want to. Swiss was also soothing but tried to get you to talk, which most of the times you would, but he never understood why you wouldn’t the other times. He always talked about his feelings so he just thought everyone did. Dew, sweet Dewdrop. He tried to be helpful when it was just you and him, and you were in an episode, but the poor ghoul has a hard time expressing his emotions, let alone helping others with theirs. He would hold you and text Aether to come help. You loved him nonetheless.

“Wanna talk about it?” Swiss chimed in.

“Swiss, not everybody talks about their feelings,” Aether said, sternly.

”I know, but sometimes they talk about them,” Swiss replied.

”Maybe in a little, just wanna finish my soup and lay down,” you said, as you smiled to your multi ghoul.

As you took the last bite of your soup, and sipped the remaining broth, you handed your bowl back to Dew for him to place on the table next to Aether’s bed. You resumed your position laying between Aether’s legs with your head on his broad chest. He wrapped his arms around you as Dew snuggled into Aether’s side, wrapping his arm around you, and Swiss doing the same on the other side.

”A shower would really help you,” Dew chimed in.

“In a minute, just wanna lay here right now,” you replied, giving a soft smile to the kind fire ghoul.

The four of you laid in bed for a few minutes before you decided that you did in fact need a shower, but when you went to move, you realized that Aether and Swiss had fallen asleep. Dew was still awake, staring at you with admiration.

“Dew?” You whispered.

”What’s up, babe?” He replied.

”Wanna take a shower,” you mumbled.

The fire ghoul slowly pried himself off of the sleeping quintessence ghoul and stood up out of bed, releasing a big stretch while holding out his hand to you. You got out of bed next, and took his hand. The two of you walked to Aether’s bathroom and quietly closed the door. Dew started the shower, making sure the temperature was to your liking.

“Do you want me to cover my eyes, y’know, so you can undress?” The fire ghoul asked shyly.

”Dew, you do realize that you’ve seen me naked too many times to count, right. I don’t care if you look,” you joked with him.

”I know, but I feel like now is the wrong time to be turned on,” he chuckled, his tail tucked between his legs.

You rolled your eyes and smiled as you started to undress. You finally stepped into the shower and the hot water felt amazing against your aching body. You stood in the downpour for a minute before you realized you didn’t want to be alone.

”Dew? Can you join me? Don’t wanna be alone,” you said, shyly.

Before you knew it, a naked Dew was joining you in the shower. He knew exactly what to do as he embraced you, gently tipping your head back into the water to get your hair nice and wet. He then stuck his own head into the water, getting his stunning blonde hair wet. You always enjoyed showering with Dew. Even though the water was hot, he added to it. He grabbed your shampoo and squeezed a good amount into his hand before rubbing his hands together and gently massaging it into your hair. The warmth of his palms along with the massaging sensation relaxed you even more. While he was at it, he also added shampoo to his hair. While he let his shampoo sit, he embraced you once again and tipped your head under the water to rinse it out. One of his hands embraced the small of your back while the other worked on getting the shampoo out of your hair. Once your hair was shampoo free, he grabbed the conditioner and lathered your ends to make sure they were good and hydrated. He let that sit while he rinsed the shampoo out of his own hair. He didn’t bother to condition his hair as he only did it once a week. While the conditioner was still sitting in your hair, he took the time to wash your body. He picked up the clean washcloth that was on the towel rack and put a little bit of Aether’s body wash on it, knowing you liked to use his. He then gently ran the cloth all over your body, leaving sensual kisses along your body in the process. He then wiped himself down with the cloth. It was time to completely rinse. He held you close to him, under the downfall of water and worked his hands through the ends of your hair, making sure to get all of the conditioner out, while the water washed the soap off of the two of you.

Now that the shower was done, he helped you dry off and put on your fresh clothes. He went to reach for a clean shirt of his when he noticed you were staring at it.

”Would you like this shirt instead of the one you are wearing?” He smirked at you.

All you did was nod. He picked up the shirt and walked over to you. He gently lifted your hands up and pulled the shirt you were wearing off before pulling it onto himself. He then pulled his shirt onto you and gave you a deep kiss.

”I love you, Y/N. Never forget it. We all love you,” he whispered in your ear before opening the bathroom door.

Swiss and Aether were awake now, just chilling on the bed with each other. Dew took your hand and guided you back to bed. You crawled back in between Aether’s legs and placed your back against his chest.

“Mmmm, you smell delightful, love,” he purred in your ear.

”Do you want to read your book? I brought it for you,” Swiss said as he reached behind him and grabbed the paperback.

You graciously took it from him and opened it to where you left off.

”Thank you, all of you. I love you all so much and I’m sorry that I can be a lot sometimes,” you said, taking a moment before starting your reading.

”We wouldn’t have you any other way, Y/N,” Swiss says as he gives you a quick kiss.

”We don’t want you any other way,” Aether seconds, kissing the back of your neck.

”You’re perfect just the way you are, my fire love,” Dew said as he took your hand.

The three ghouls snuggled into each other after throwing on Inside Out, one of Dew’s favorites. You leaned your back into Aether as you continued your reading. Before you knew it, you were being woken up by Swiss taking your book from you, making sure to place your bookmark into the pages.

“Get some sleep, love. You deserve it. We will all be here when you wake up. Those two are out cold. If you need anything, let me know,” Swiss said before giving your forehead a kiss. He was always up throughout the night. Consider it a nightwatch.

[tinyinvadr]

So the tadc brain rot is so strong right now, and naturally, I had to bring g/t into it! Not sure how many parts there will be to this, but yeah!

Hide & Shrink

Chapter 1

I couldn’t sleep the first night. It wasn’t like I needed to. All that was once essential for living is now pointless. Trying to retain any sense of normalcy is a waste of time that could be spent trying to find a way out.

The exit door turned out to be a bust, but surely there’s another way to leave. I just have to keep trying, even if it drives me insane, even if I end up in the void again. There’s no way I can stay in a place like this.

But… if I keep this up, and I DO end up driving myself insane, I’ll just end up like Kaufmo and however many others before him who’ve been “abstracted”. Yeah, that’s what they called it. I’m not exactly sure what it means or if there’s a way to undo it, but since Caine has a whole cellar full of abstracted people, I can only assume that it’s irreversible. That, or this is all just a part of his games.

The others seem to trust him to some extent, but I can’t bring myself to. He has to be the one who’s keeping us trapped here, right? He’s insistent that there’s no way out because he doesn’t want us to leave, so that must mean an exit DOES exist, right?

The worst part is that no one else seems as eager to leave as I am. Clearly no one wants to be here, but they still managed to adapt to this world. They accept it, they play along with whatever Caine has to throw at them. It’s… normal to them.

No, I can’t reach that point. None of this is real, and I refuse to let myself believe that it is. I had a life before this. A real life that was taken from me. A face, an identity, a name. I can’t remember the details, but it’s enough to know that I don’t belong in this twisted program and I have to get back to the real world.

The entire night, my mind was racing in this vicious cycle. Do I keep trying? Do I give up? Do I have to just accept this as my new life from here on out?

I was finally snapped out of my spiraling when I heard a knock on the door the next morning.

“Hey, uh, Pomni? You okay in there? I just wanted to check in, make sure you’re still… here.”

Just hearing Ragatha’s voice hit me with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Why was she still bothering to help me? I abandoned her twice when she was hurt, how could she forgive me so easily?

I opened the door for her, and she just stood there, nervously scratching the back of her head. I guess it wasn’t entirely water under the bridge, but she still made the effort to reach out to me.

“Um… Hi, Ragatha. Thanks for checking in on me.”

“Oh, yeah, of course! I’m glad you’re okay. Yesterday was… a lot to deal with all at once for a new person. But I promise, it’s usually not like that here.”

We just stood in awkward silence for a minute. There were so many things I wanted to ask her, but I was worried I would make things worse. I didn’t want her getting hurt again.

“Anyway, the rest of us are having breakfast, so feel free to join us if you want. Don’t feel pressured if you don’t want to, just thought I’d offer, since it can be nice to spend time with other people.”

In all honesty, I really wasn’t up for it, but I knew I couldn’t lie in bed stuck in my own thoughts forever. Maybe leaving my room would help me focus. Or it would make things worse, subjecting myself to all of the chaos of the Digital Circus again.

No, I had to. Attempting to do something was better than not doing anything.

“Yeah… I think I will.”

I followed Ragatha down the long hallway, filled with unease as I remembered our encounter with Kaufmo only a day prior. It was terrifying to think that the huge, glitching monster that attacked us was a person deep down. I didn’t know him, but the others did. I couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for them to lose him in such a horrible way.

And any one of us could be next.

We arrived at the main area of the circus tent where everyone was already seated at the table, feasting on digital, artificial pancakes.

Jax was the first to notice us.

“Oh hey, Pomni. You’re not dead.”

Ragatha sighed as we made our way over to the table, sitting at the two empty seats.

It seemed like everyone had a preferred seat at the table, so I ended up sitting between Gangle and Jax again. This was all part of their routine that they’ve been keeping up for god knows how long.

“Good morning, Pomni! I hope you’re feeling better today.”

I was caught off guard by Gangle’s smiling mask and cheery attitude. She was crying the entire first day.

“I don’t know… but you seem to be in a better mood.”

She chuckled, touching her mask with her ribbon hands. “That’s ‘cause my comedy mask regenerated. It resets every morning.”

I was about to ask her how often her mask breaks, but my question was answered when Bubble suddenly popped up behind Kinger, startling him to the point where he fell back onto Gangle, pushing her over and knocking her mask off.

“Aw… it broke again.” She said with a sniffle as she collected the remains of her mask.

On the other side of me, Jax smirked, crossing his arms behind his head. “Never gets old.”

Man, what a jerk.

Breakfast carried on pretty much the same as dinner the previous night. I was trying not to let my thoughts wander to darker places and focus on trying to connect with the others. It was difficult, though, since everyone already knew each other pretty well and adjusted to the insanity of this world in their own ways, so I was just kind of there. But I knew I needed them. As long as we were all on the same page, maybe I could stop myself from going insane.

Of course, it wasn’t long before HE showed up.

Just as we were finishing breakfast, Caine appeared beside Bubble.

“Rise and shine, my wonderful performers! A new day of exciting adventure awaits!”

Everyone got up and followed Caine to the stage area. I reluctantly joined them, unsure of what would happen if I didn’t.

“The star of today’s adventure will be selected with…”

Suddenly, a huge carnival wheel fell from the ceiling and crashed on the floor next to him.

“The Wheel of Whimsy!”

Each section of the wheel had a picture of one of our faces on it. Mine was already added to it, even though I only just got there.

Zooble rolled their eyes at the sight of the wheel.

“It better not land on me again.”

Caine gave the wheel a strong spin, and I watched in nervous anticipation as it slowed down. I had no idea what kind of adventure he had planned, but I knew for sure that I definitely didn’t want to “star” in it, whatever that meant.

I let out a sigh of relief as it seemed like the wheel would stop just before it landed on me. But, with the last bit of force, the pin crossed over onto my section.

“Well, would you look at that! Our star today is our newest member, Pomni!”

Jax casually strolled up beside Caine, that smug grin never leaving his face.

“Still picking on the newbie, huh Caine? I like it.”

Caine chuckled in response.

“Now, now, you know I don’t pick favorites! The Wheel of Whimsy is completely random, and all of you have an equal chance of being selected! That being said, considering yesterdays events and the fact that Pomni is still fairly new here, I’m going to give her a say in today’s adventure! So, what’ll it be, Pomni?”

I looked around at the others, each with differing expressions. Ragatha looked optimistic, Gangle worried, Zooble annoyed, Jax amused, and Kinger… Kinger. Whatever I decided to do probably wouldn’t please everyone, but I had to accept that and just go with whatever I felt was the best option.

“I dunno, maybe… hide and seek?”

Caine froze in place for a few seconds, as if he was buffering, and then sprang back to life.

“Excellent choice!”

With a snap of his fingers, I was teleported to somewhere I didn’t recognize. I was floating in place in a void of some sort, but not the same void I got stuck in the day before. It was pitch black, and almost felt suffocating. It felt like the space itself was small, but I couldn’t move far enough in any direction to prove it.

Then, even stranger, I could hear Caine’s voice, though it sounded like it was coming from underneath me somehow.

“Alright, everyone! Today’s adventure is… Find Pomni! Your new friend is hidden somewhere in this Amazing Digital Circus, and you’ll have to work together to find her! But it won’t be easy! Make sure you check everywhere, she might be someplace you wouldn’t expect! Now, get to it, superstars!”

After he finished speaking, I was hit with a sudden sensation that felt like I was moving really fast, even though I wasn’t going anywhere. The kind of feeling I got when Caine was giving me a tour. But that didn’t make sense, there was no sign of him anywhere.

“Uh… Caine? What’s going on? Where am I?”

I didn’t get a response. Instead, I felt something grab me and drag me down. The endless darkness was replaced with the bright and cheery colors of the circus all at once, but my eyes immediately went straight to Caine, who was now massive and holding me in his hand.

“Would you look at that! I pulled Pomni out of my hat!”

My first instinct was to panic. Squirming, kicking, screaming, it was all useless, but I was desperate.

There was a combination of confusion and concern in Caine’s eyes as I struggled in his grasp. How did he not expect me to hate this?

“Whoa there, no need to panic! It’s just me, your old pal Caine!”

“I’ve known you for less than 24 hours.”

“Haha, right! But there’s nothing to be afraid of, Pomni. This is all just part of the adventure! You see, the others have played hide and seek before numerous times, and they know all the typical hiding places, so I thought it would make things more challenging if you were smaller and harder to find!”

I kept helplessly struggling, but he made no moves to release me. He just kept watching.

“C-Can you put me down now?”

It finally hit him that I didn’t like being held, and he complied, setting me down on the floor with a pat on the head.

“There ya go! Now, I’ll leave you to go find a place to hide! Good luck!”

He disappeared before I could say anything else, and I was once again alone in this nightmarish circus. Only this time, it was much, much worse.

I could feel my heart racing as I looked at my surroundings. The circus was already huge to begin with, but everything at this perspective looked 10x more threatening. Part of me wanted to be found as soon as possible so I could return to my normal size, but I also didn’t want to think about encountering the others like this.

All I could do was hide.

[inkykeiji]

hello it is i, sprout again, with mindless thoughts (thank you for always being patient with my drawn out rambles).

so ive been browsing more on sd!nat. the last anon question got me curious and now im hell deep. he seems equally secure and insecure in a sense. perhaps in the way where the idea of reader leaving may make him feel vulnerable and reactive. correct me if im wrong!!

what if he found out that the reader was storing away money in a private account? like maybe she has intentions or maybe its just her trying to be financially smart on her end. but im curious about the whirlwind of thoughts that would race through his head upon the discovery :')

sprout babie!!! i am SOOO late on answering this, i apologize!! >.<

no you’re entirely right, he is both secure and insecure. he has confidence in himself and his abilities when it comes to specific things (work being the biggest one), but he is so obsessed with his reader that he’s terrified she’ll leave. it’s kind of one of those situations where you end up loving something so much that it becomes unfathomably important to you, and because it is now so important to you, you are petrified of losing it in some way because you don’t know how you’d survive or function without it. the more important and valuable something/someone is to us, the more scared we are to lose it, basically.

OOOH okay so!! technically, it would be extremely difficult for reader to do such a thing, as natsuo controls and manages all of her banking accounts and funds + personal info etc etc (he holds all of her identification on him at all times, for example). BUT!!! for arguments sake let’s say she was somehow able to stash away some money in a private account, and natsuo found out—he would absolutely go ballistic.

you specifically mentioned the streams of thought that would tangle in his head upon first learning about it, and that’s pretty much exactly what would happen. his thoughts would be so messy and so chaotic that they’d merely knot together into one huge, incomprehensible mass that weighs on his skull with each passing moment.

his mind is running at a mile a minute and he can hardly catch a single idea that races through his head, all of the potential situations morphing into one another, half-finished and hectic, as his brain jumps from one scenario to the next: what if she’s saving up to escape? to leave him and never return? to buy a ticket to some unknown, far-away land and change her name, to become completely untraceable? what if it’s someone else giving her this money? natsuo doesn’t pay much attention to the absurd amounts of money he is consistently dealing with, so he can’t remember if he noticed lump sums missing—what if she’s been stealing money from him and it’s been going undetected because he’s so busy? what if this money is coming from a new partner; someone putting silly and fantastical ideas in her head, someone who might rot her brain, poison her heart, and convince her to leave him? what if she’s gotten herself into some sort of trouble, and has been hiding it from him? what if she’s got some rare illness, and she’s saving up money for treatment without bothering to tell him? what if she’s somehow in some sort of danger? what if she fucking hates him, and is doing all of this just to spite him? what if she’s trying to gaslight him and make him crazy? etc etc etc.

it’s all so much that he ends up drowning in it, paralyzed by the endless number of possibilities, and isn’t able to confront her about this behaviour until he speaks to his beloved touya-nii first, who knows how to snip those knots into tiny pieces and weave them into something sensical again.

[shittygaypornmagazine]

Jsyk I was shaking while writing this

Oh my god, I’m back boo, disclaimer tho. Anything and most definitely everything will not make any sense, BUT THINK THATS THE POINT. Honestly this might just be a rant. I honestly don’t know any way that I could interpret Casey’s segment other than the way it’s already written, because the out of all the things that got to me from Casey’s segment, was that none of what he was feeling made any sense. He could define his jealousy and despair but yes, he could not explain why he felt that way in any form that would make sense. THAT IS GRIEF, BUT YOU VALIDATED IT SO PERFECTLY, like I thought I was the only one. Because for some reason it does feel like your missing out on something, and it gets so frustrating.

There is something so unique about this kid that just makes be want to stop existing so that he can take my spot (in a very positive way).

I think what separates Casey from Nardo even if they have the same time displaced experience, is that Nardo knows that he is (was) the future. Of course Jr comes from the same year he does, but he spent his entire life being told that his surroundings weren’t what they were supposed to be, and he wasn’t meant to grow up the way he did. I feel like It’s best and it makes so much of the sense it’s not supposed to if Casey is not defined, and only acknowledged for what he is. Because his life transcends time and space, his heart and mind break the barrier meant to keep both aspects of his life separate. People can say that he comes from one and now living in the other, but he is a unity of both, and I can completely get how he feels like isn’t bound to anything but himself.

Omg, the way you explained it was so real, despite his isolation he finds a way to coexist with the circumstances and acknowledges his displacement even in the simple things he does. Learns to live with and become aware of his emotions. That little segment really got to me and every time I read it I wish that I could gift you my heart and mind so that we could somehow find a way to discuss it or just feel it further. Like a ninja mind meld but with emotions as well. I CAN’T EXPLAIN IT, I REALLY WISH I KNEW HOW THO.

Just know that if you read Casey’s segment again, everything conveyed in those letters I cried over because yes, you get it, I get it, and our poor beloved Jr gets it (even the stuff he doesn’t get because, yes) That’s all I can say and I have no idea if this will give the same weight as all of the other things I’ve flooded your inbox for. Just know I have a tissue box near at all times because of you, YOU’VE ROTTED MY BRAIN, Idk if there’s anything left to rot boo ╥﹏╥

THIS KID IS SO ME CORE. I will never forgive the universe for not giving me a chance to cry the ugliest tears with him and share them together. HE DESERVES COMFORT AND HAPPINESS, he is my beloved.

THANK YOU for the insight on the daddy with a shotgun situation btw, it makes me love the fact that the trope is switched between father and son so much more like- (ಥ﹏ಥ) YES JR, GET THAT BITCH (I swear, I love Yuichi too)

I love and appreciate you so much boo (´Д⊂ヽ

-If you can, listen or read “Glide- Mitski” the cover, I think- it just- KBADGHIGKNVFD

(Jr with a shotgun real)

OMG I MISSED YOU MY BOO I'M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU (⁠┛⁠✧⁠Д⁠✧⁠)⁠)⁠┛❤️

I guess there's two of us shakers now cuz I am literally unable to read any ask abt Full Lair without having to take a moment to walk around the room in excitement or flap my hands at a compliment but YOUR asks are a whole lot different case and I have to clear out my schedule for at least the next three business days to recover

anywizzle!

I am feeling so many feelings about you getting the feelings that Casey is getting to feeling because we're all feeling the same thing, and just like you said, you get it.

especially the thing about knowing the feeling and acknowledging it but still not being able to understand why is it still there because honestly that's one of the first things that fucked me up when I first encountered grief.

cuz like grief it misinterpreted a lot but what is it if not loose thread of someone's lifeline, sticking out of your life like out of a corner of a completely new t-shirt? it's not supposed to be there. you're not supposed to feel it. it's out of place. and yet here you are, staring at it, unable to shift your focus to anything else because it touches your skin and ruins your look, even if no one else is aware of it.

sorry, got into rambling again.

so, Casey! baby boy Casey, oh how I love him! honestly the whole "shovel talk" being switched is just so funny to me because imagine this 16 year old in his battle gear appearing out nowhere Just To Talk 😇 (the dude can literally terrifying when he wants to be, just look at his mask). especially considering he grew up listening to Nardo tell him stories about his exes. I mean Usagi REALLY should check where are his swords cuz Jr is not playing games.

only hokey.

anyway, I had something else to say, but I don'ts remember what exactly, so just. THANK YOU FOR EXISTING, BOO 💕

AND LISTEN I HAD A MITSKI MARATHON A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO AND I DIDN'T GET TO THIS SONG BUT NOW I DID AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH?????

[bisognamorire]

Beloved and dearly missed A.,

Happy Friday!

I am unsure what you would think of me writing these, because isn’t this kind of ‘not letting go’? But I thought: for me it is in a way, because I’m not asking for a response or acknowledgement and whether I type it out or not is a bit of the same, because I would tell you in my mind, if I wasn’t writing it down. I always want to talk with you. I always miss you. And you know I am always delusional and pathetic.

Two days ago, I had some nervousness inducing conversations with my therapist about me being dissociated most of the time, up to the point that I even dissociate in therapy sessions and can’t really process or understand/accept what is being said to me. And that I feel anxious to ask questions because I worry my therapist might not be honest to me when I ask her to be upfront (which is ofc my own trust issues) or might feel I’m annoying her.

We then looked closer at that cycle of dissociation and anxiety. I felt horrified to see how torn that inner insecurity (almost a grappling for the perception of reality between the “trauma brain/adult brain”) makes me feel and act at times. Sure you remember. And to get a sense of all the potential damage that volatile dynamic can cause others and myself.

This week has started with many people calling in sick to work, so I was obliged to take on more shifts than I originally had. Needless to mention that that isn’t very pleasant. I feel rather knocked out by this week. Patients and coworkers have been rather rude too — it reminded me of the time you worked in the city museum front desk. I, too, experience the general public’s madness everyday. So many bizarre things that I can’t possibly write it all down or remember it. I was once asked out of the blue, mid conversation, by a grandpa whether I was wearing a wig. An other patient complained to me that his taxi was taking too long to pick him up, but he apparently hadn’t even called one (?). Then the general babylonic discourses with russian people who are unfazed at me telling them I don’t speak russian and who proceed to speak russian anyway… 🫨

Im just constantly tired and exhausted— it reminded me of that little sketch you drew of yourself of rotting in bed and saying ‘surely theres a better way to live my life than that’.

Yesterday I rolled over in bed and stared at my wall. My blanket had wrapped around my torso tightly. I remembered you hugging me like that in the bed you had set up for me in your room on that last night and just began to cry horribly.

Not all that I feel can be expressed in words about all that.

I’ve also not slept very well all week and woke up in the middle of the night. I suppose dad and you are haunting me in my subconscious.

But — on to more ‘joyous’ things.

You know how I read up about the Somerton Man (scary) and I was very intrigued by the process of identifying him and just the mystery around that ‘Tamam Shud’ from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat in his pocket. I had wanted to have a copy of that for myself (there are such nice editions with art nouveau illustrations which you would surely appreciate too) and went to a nearby antique book store after my massage last Saturday. They had a battered 1913 copy (unfortunately without illustrations) of it and some of the poems really resonated with how I feel.

Heres some of my favourites:

Three days ago the rest of my Yamato Cosplay unexpectedly arrived in the mail, so I took some joy out of completing the costume for now. I feel like my inner transmasc oni was turned outward finally! 👹

For my birthday last year Sharon’s boyfriend gifted me a box of Basilur Green Tea assortment from the russian supermarket in front of my house. I usually don’t like green tea, so I only tried it recently. In that assortment they had a few sachets of milk oolong tea, do you know it? I love it now. I drink it with two or three spoons of sugar and a bit of milk. Its not as irritating to the stomach as the Earl Grey I favour, maybe you can try it? ♥️

While we are on the topic of Earl Grey — after I have completed a cosplay of Transmasc Oni Yamato (my alter ego) I am now thinking of doing a Ciel Phantomhive or Pinocchio from Lies of P cosplay, just because they’re both giving off that assholish midget horse-lady Laurent vibes, which — as you know — is also my alter ego 😏

I’ve been doodling a bit in the evenings after work (I’ve not drawn something in so long, and why? for who?), and listening to anime openings etc. Sometimes I wonder if it is a bit cringe that I still gain joy from the same things I had when I was 13, living with my parents back then and feeling utterly lonely (still do). Here are some of the things I’ve drawn:

The first one is depicting how I feel when I am experiencing an episode of mania (also, also, blood thing/our Laurent, self insert?). I called this emotional state ‘Archangel’, because it isn’t actually me, or thats how it feels at least. It is this righteous entity, that is entitled to anger and vengeful feelings. He is 100% sure his feelings are justified. I don’t often experience the archangel or that inner ‘surety’ of my own perception, of reality. But when I do — not only does he feel anger, he also punishes me bodily for — by proxy — feeling anger through him. He humiliates me. It is almost as if I was taking on the persona’s of the people who abused me as a child. Who disallowed me from standing up for myself, and who discouraged protecting myself from them, who disallowed me from feeling angry. I am not allowed to be upset.

I’m sorry if thats tmi and makes you uncomfortable, you know I’m always too open.

The second one is Romano and Antonio in the traditional clothes of the Fallas Carnival in Valencia. This year is the tenth year anniversary of me first visiting the city (I can’t believe it! I have memories of 10 years ago!!) I booked a one week vacation there for March to go by myself and finally see the Fallas! Valencia’s main festival! I’m very excited to drink Horchata de Chufa and draw some Antonio/Romano doodles and take naps. I also booked a tour to see the atelier’s of the artists building the statues, that will surely be interesting. I already wish I could send you a postcard, but I’m not supposed to, am I? Maybe I will get one anyway and just post it here and then add it to your little box of things I keep.

Again, I’m looking forward to rest and play my video game on the weekend, when I am off (I’m currently trying to level myself up to take on that acid monster in the Cathedral of St. Frangelico) 🙄

Thinking of you fondly at the sight of the stars & moon,

your Sabo

[theinvisiblemuseum]

do you have any pandalily headcanons or fics you could share?

bury a friend has given me brain rot :(

ok so i suck because i literally haven't read any fics in foreverrrrr BUT i'm always willing to provide some pandalily headcanons bc i love them more than life itself <33

i'll split it into modern/au vibes and canon vibes bc those differ greatly in my mind (and ill put it under the cut in case this gets long)

(spoiler, it did get long and i’m not sorry)

canon vibes:

so funnily enough in my view of 'canon' pandalily isn't a thing, i have a wholeeeee version of what i consider canon etched in my head and that's never changing but for the sake of the argument i DO have ideas

everyone is on a mission to keep these two apart at all costs

marauders & co know that lily’s a little bit crazy if properly encouraged and slytherins & co are well aware that pandora Can and Will be insane at any given opportunity

therefore, they must be kept apart, for everyone’s sanity

pandora and lily do what they want, more than anything

i like to believe they bonded over being fascinated by the same groteque subject, and they met up in the restricted section to make out

lily teaches pandora loads of deadly hexes, and pandora introduces lily to terrifying magical creatures

they both ride thestrals together, but neither of them can see them

something tells me that they discovered the whole deal about the chamber of secrets and solved it, and that’s how the marauders figured out that tom riddle was voldemort & then that in turn led regulus to research horcruxes but i’m getting too far ahead of myself here

sometimes they’d curse people off their brooms during quidditch matches

pandora is as big of a prankster as the marauders but she’s smart enough to get away with it & doesn’t take credit or leave a trace but if she DOES she uses lily’s head girl privileges to get out of trouble 

lily would look the other way when evan committed acts of arson

evan proposed to lily so he could be evan evans and pandora encouraged them to Get Married For The Bit

if pandalily were together in canon they wouldn’t have died period they would have rocked voldemort’s shit

they both realize after the war how down with murder they are

they start a little wizard hit man business they sneakily kill people and get super rich for it, i’m right i know i am

all their friends support this, because they’re killing shitty people and getting revenge for their friends that did die

lily refuses to take the last name rosier because she refuses to be lily rose and pandora refuses to take the last name evans because of her brother 

i haven’t actually properly thought about canonverse pandlily before but now i’m thinking so many thoughts oh no oh no

au vibes:

cannibalism

literally will graham lily and hannibal lecter pandora if you don’t see my vision i cannot help you it’s divine intervention you’re not ready for don’t worry one day you’ll see the light

intensely codependent

they saw each other, decided they’d kill for each other, and the rest is history

neither of them is allowed to die unless the other person kills them. in a romantic way. they will go hand in unlovable hand or not at all.

pandora’s family loves lily 

sometimes they’ll fall off the face of the earth for a little while, come back looking like hell, and their friends take bets on if they had sex, committed murder, or both

no one actually knows if their jokes about murder are jokes or not

like. they haven’t killed anyone. they just have a dark sense of humor. right?

haha. right????

“i stand with my cancelled wife”

dinner parties. human meat may or may not be on the menu

i think they’ve been to the met gala. at least twice.

they’re both night owls, but lily can wake up early and pandora would rather die than wake up early

they’d never have kids but they’re AMAZING aunts to their friends kids 

they give the kids weird shit that they definitely shouldn’t, like human brains in a jar or voodoo dolls

they’ve got some kind of telepathy, they alwaysss know what the other is thinking

they sometimes pretend they’re getting divorced just for fun, they go through a whole process and everything only to be like nvm :)

their lawyer hates them

they have an Attic. no one goes in the Attic. but everyone has a story about what they Think is in the Attic.

pandora has cloud tattoos all the way up her arm & neck and lily traces them while she tries to fall asleep

they play “how would you rather die” before bed every night and come up with stranger things every time

oh god this is getting so long i’ll be done now i promise

also yaz is writing a pandalily fic that’s dropping the first chapter on xmas and i’m very excited for thattttttttt and everyone else should be as wellllll <33

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Since your requests are open i shall throw my brain rot at you <3

Slightly mean(bc he is a tease and is having the time of his life bc of the current scene in front of him) Kaeya that watches his virgin s/o try to fit him inside but she fails ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

And finally after some time he agrees to help out.

(uh also if u are accepting anons, may i be the ⚠️ anon?)

Pairing - Kaeya x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Degradation kink, praise kink?, very slight dollification

Word count - 1.7k

Other comments - Dude your Kaeya brainrot is always welcome here I love him. You’re so smart, mean kaeya is next level. And of course everyone welcome ⚠️ anon! Also this one is a little shorter, i just wasnt in the mood to write the build up i just wanted s e x

Your body was hypersensitive with nerves. It was your first time so of course you would be anxious about this whole situation. What wasn’t helping was your boyfriend's relentless teasing. It was aggravating and embarrassing, but part of your body was getting off to it as well; your body getting even more sensitive as time passed.

Right now, you were trying desperately to ride Kaeya, but he was just way too big and you didn’t know what you were doing so nothing was going well on your end. Kaeya on the other hand was having the time of his life watching you struggle.

“God if you hadn’t told me you were a virgin, I’d have never known seeing as how you're whining like a little slut right now cause you can’t ride me.” You shot your boyfriend a glare. God you just wanted to shut him up.

“Watching you struggle like this is quite amusing my dear… Maybe I’ll just sit here and force you to keep trying. You're destined to get it right at some point hm?” You heard him chuckle as you groaned out. There was a feeling that was beginning to bloom deep within you. You couldn’t quite name the feeling but all you knew was that you needed Kaeya’s help and you needed it now.

“Please Kaeya. This is driving me crazy. I need you Kaeya.” There was a needy rasp in your voice that made his only exposed pupil blow wide. There was a low rumble in his chest that only made this feeling intensify. You didn’t know what you had done, but you knew you weren’t going to regret it.

In less than a second there was a punishing grip on your hips, Kaeya’s long slender fingers holding so much strength in the iron grasp he had on you. Effortlessly Kaeya had you hovering over his pulsing cock. You whimpered in anticipation.

“Such a pathetic useless slut, always in need of my assistance. Hold yourself up like this so I can line myself up. You’re competent to be able to do as simple of a task as that right?” You nodded quickly, biting your lower lip instinctively out of mild anxiety. Once again, despite it all, this is still your first time. Your position did not waiver when Kaeya pulled away one of his hands. You could still feel the imprint of where it was on your hip.

“You’re okay right (y/n)? We’ll take this first part slow so as to not hurt you too much. This isn’t going to be amazing at first but just trust me it’ll get better. Then we can get back to having real fun.” The change in Kaeya’s whole tone and demeanor gave you whiplash; a stark contrast to the dark look he held only moments ago when degrading you. Instead he held a warm, almost concerned and genuine look on his face.

You took this moment to really admire him. The way his dark blue hair fell over him, shining in the pale light of your lamps next to the bed. Your breath never ceased to be taken away when you looked at him like this, cherishing the way his tanned skin contrasted the shining pale blue eye he had exposed. You guessed you had been staring at him for a little too long, with the way his expression started leaning more towards concern than anything.

“I always trust you Kaeya, this time is no different than the others.” A gentle smile formed on both of your faces. There were no words for how much you guys trusted each other, having this unexplainable bond. Somehow you both knew more about each other than yourselves.

Kaeya nodded before he nudged the hand that was still on your hip down, signaling for you to start lowering yourself. There was still an unease in the pit of your stomach, but it was much less noticeable now. You jumped slightly when you felt the tip of Kaeya’s dick intrude, causing him to chuckle quietly and begin rubbing comforting circles into your hip. You continued down, wincing as you felt yourself begin the stretch around him. It ached, and Kaeya was right, this certainly did not feel amazing, but you trusted him. After a few more painstakingly long moments of lowering yourself, you were fully seated on his lap. You could feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, and slowly the pain began to fade; leaving a burned need to feel more in its wake.

You squirmed on his lap, not trusting yourself to talk at the moment, in fear of saying or making some abhorrent noise. Kaeya’s punishing grip returned, holding you still on his lap.

“That didn’t take very long. Are you sure this is your first time? You’re really acting like a slut now.” The antagonizing tone returned to Kaeya’s voice, and it was really affecting you now. You desperately needed him to move. You let out a whimper as you futilely tried wiggling around in his grasp. A dark smirk graced his face as he tightened his grip even more.

“What was that my slut? What do you need? How am I possibly to know what you need if you don’t tell me. I’m not a mind reader darling.” You groaned, your face lighting up red with embarrassment with the knowledge that you were indeed going to have to beg this man to move.

“Kaeya…. I need you….to move please. I need to feel you in me. Please Kaeya help me.” You saw that familiar darkening on Kaeya’s face that made you melt, and an ache began deep within you.

“Your wish is my command, my beloved.” Before anything else could be exchanged, Kaeya hoisted you up until only the tip was still inside you then almost dropped you back down. You repeated this motion over and over and you let out loud moans and cries.

“That’s right. You’re my whore. I’m the only one that ever gets to see you this way or make you this way. Let everyone know who you belong to. Who exactly is making you whine like a bitch.” You cried out at a particularly hard and direct thrust into that one special spot that made you see stars.

“Say my name you little whore, say it out loud so we can all know whos fucking you this well.” You cried out once again, your moans being interrupted with the loud gasps of his name on your lips. You chanted his name like a prayer to the Archons above. In this moment, he was your archon, your divine being who you followed with unwavering devotion. What else were you to think when he was bringing you such pleasure.

“That’s it my darling. Even though your only use is being my fucktoy you are such a good one. You just keep sucking me in so well, this feeling is addicting.” You moaned out louder at the words he was throwing at you. Only moments later your legs began getting very tired from the constant up and down. You placed your hands on his toned chest as you began slumping over, not being lifted up quite as easily.

Suddenly you felt yourself being tipped over before Kaeya quickly pulled out, rolled you onto your back and caged you in with his strong arms on either side of your head. Without warning he thrusted himself in again, much easier this time.

“We haven’t even been doing this for very long and you already seemed so fucked out. Of course I shouldn’t be very surprised seeing how pathetic you are.” You could feel tears beginning to fall from your eyes from the pleasure that was wracking through your body. The tears only egged Kaeya on, as his thrusts became even harder. You could sense how sore you were going to be, you might have to stay home tomorrow. Kaeya began to let out strained grunts and groans, gritting his teeth in pleasure. He could feel the way you were squeezing him, and how you were about to fall over the edge any second now. He needed to ruin you.

The tears began to fall faster the closer you got to the end, a huge knot threatening to break in your core. After only two more targeted thrusted your back arched off the bed, smashing into Kaeya’s torso above you as you screamed out his name along with a few other profanities. Your vision flashed white as the feeling of your orgasm crashed over you like unrelenting waves in the sea.

Your cries quieted down as you slumped down onto the bed trembling, tears staining your deep crimson cheeks. Kaeya had grown much louder over those few moments and before long we was shoving his throbbing cock as far as he could get it and cumming. His orgasm took him by storm, nothing ever feeling that incredible before. The noise he made as his body shook above you and his sweaty forehead fell into the crook of your neck only made you tremble more. Before too long Kaeya gently pulled his softening dick out of you and slumped down onto the bed next to you. You were immediately pulled into him as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. This skin to skin contact filled you with the fuzziest feeling in the world as you snuggled as deep as you could into him.

You guys stayed in silence, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing of the two of you. You were both tangled in each other’s bodies before you quietly heard Kaeya mumble a soft ‘I love you’. You smiled and kissed his chest, not having the energy or willpower to speak. Not long after the two of you were lulled into the deepest, most peaceful sleep of your lives.

[caspianjames]

Having Young Royals brain rot now about August??? I think he’s often made out to be the villain and he’s really,,,not??? Did he do a shitty thing? Absolutely. Do I think he’s a bad person? Absolutely not. He’s incredibly well written and I think in a lot of ways he’s very easy to empathize with. Here’s why.

That kid has pretty much everything going against him. Canonically he’s what? 17? 18? His dad is dead, he clearly doesn’t have a good relationship with his mom or stepdad, he’s clearly never had a safe space to process his dads death and work on recovering, he’s relying on stimulants to get through school, the girl he likes decides to date him but only cuz she can’t get his cousin, he has virtually no caring adults in his life, he’s bankrupt and terrified that the only semblance of normalcy he has left (hillerska) will be ripped out from under him. That kid is a fucking mess and absolutely the consequences of this mean he’s going to lash out. He gives so many warning signs that he’s not doing okay too. But so, to break this down point by point:

1. His dead died in a rather horrific manner, his mom moved on but clearly was not around to make sure that her son was okay. He’s often referred to a stupid or prideful for not wanting to give up part of the family estate so he’s not bankrupt except that’s the only thing he has left of his dad. And it’s not even his fault he’s bankrupt, he’s a kid!

2. Not having a safe space to process his dad dying is sort of visibly a given, but actually to take that one step further I think he DID have a safe space. It was Erik. And then Erik died and this kid truly has nothing, not even Wille because he was more interested in Simon than paying attention to what August was going through (which isn’t Wille’s fault, he hardly knew August and clearly had different values and stuff from august. But watching the show I get the feeling August is really looking to be someone meaningful to Wille and Wille just,,,really doesn’t like him). He said this in a roundabout way to Felice, too, when he was jealous of her relationship with Willhelm. It was something like “you’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to comfort me so that I can comfort him.” Which I think is a two fold thing where firstly, no one realizes how hard Erik’s death hit him and how much he needs someone to tell him that stuff is going to be alright, but secondly, the last thing we see Erik tell him is to take care of Wille. So now he also feels like he’s failing to do that. And Willie, the one person who he could relate to about Erik, hardly wants anything to do with him.

3. I am SO interested to see where the plot will go with the meds he’s relying on. I don’t think it’s ever actually made clear if he thinks he DOES have ADHD or whether he’s just using the meds to cope but either way it’s a problem that shows he doesn’t have adequate support, you know? Even the school counsellor dude was just like “ok guess ur gonna walk out of my office bye then” instead of altering the headmaster or his parents or a teacher he trusts or ANYTHING. And, as the season progresses he gets more volatile. Why? He’s out of meds (and, whether or not he actually has ADHD and needs meds, that means he’s low on dopamine and is going to start doing stupider stuff to get his brain to reward him). (Side note, given the role ADHD and also substance abuse plays in the series I really, really hope they do both concepts justice)

4. Felice dating him even though she has no interest. No hate to her for that, honestly, I don’t think she was really interested in anyone except making her parents happy with her. She’s under a whole different kind of pressure. But august? He clearly really likes her and is trying hard with her, until everything sort of falls out of his grasp nearer the end of the season cuz he thinks she’s in love with Wille and is otherwise not coping well at all.

SO ALL THAT leads up to him outing Wille, which we see from Wille’s POV but never really from August’s, right? We see Wille yelling at August about how he was supposed to be able to trust him, but honestly I think from August’s POV Wille broke that trust first. We said already that pretty much the only thing August had left going for him was Hillerska, and by extension his friends and community there. When Wille wants them to make Alex take the fall for the drugs to save Simon, he literally exposes August and basically rips that away from him sooner than August is ready for, because now all the boys know that he’s bankrupt. In Wille’s mind it’s not a big deal - it’s a means to an end and he already knows he’s asked his mom to cover August’s tuition. It’s a very calculated but very smart move.

Except that Hillerska is all that August has left, and in a sense, Wille takes that away from him. Can you imagine how horrible that would feel for August from someone he trusted?? And honestly there is nothing more dangerous than someone who has been wronged and feels like they have nothing to lose. You can tell when Sara sees August at the computer. He doesn’t make up a story, he doesn’t care. He just wants to hurt Wille back in the only way that he can regardless of the consequences.

I don’t even think he’s homophobic or anything, either. He took the video initially to make fun of Wille with, and then when he realized what it was he didn’t say anything. But in that moment that was the one thing he had on Wille that he could weaponize because he knew it would be taken badly by the general public. 

And then he gets the call of his tuition being paid and you can see reality crash down around him when he realizes rationally what he’s done.

Anyways. My conclusion is. This poor kid has literally no one looking out for him. Like, not a single person. And that’s what happens, you know? No one does horrible things or irreparable damage to themselves or others on a whim. There’s almost always a build-up of hopelessness or anger that has to overflow first. This is a real life thing. This shit is preventable. And I really, really hope we get to see that with August. I hope we get a redemption, but an honest one. Because no matter what led to his actions, they still have real consequences. I hope the show creates a storyline where we see him getting what he needs from the adults around him while also having to deal with the consequences of his actions. 

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Reid x Reader

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word  IF THERES MORE LMK 

A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever.  ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know! 

pt 2, pt 3 “I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me. 

“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look. 

“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.

“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head. 

“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”

She nodded in understanding, 

 “I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.” 

“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.” 

“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.” 

“Where were we?” 

“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled. 

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” 

“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin. 

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.” 

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled. 

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine. 

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine. 

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted. 

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.  

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss. 

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed. 

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.” 

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic. 

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.” 

“You are. So, so much smarter.” 

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest. 

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.” 

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?” 

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.” 

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other. 

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“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.

“Unfortunately.”  he responded. “Think you’ll be home this weekend?” 

“It’s not looking like it, little one. I’m sorry.” 

I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him. 

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Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow. 

What the FUCK? 

“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain. 

Where am I? 

How’d I get here? 

Why am I here? 

I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything? 

“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.

I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone. 

With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me? 

She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?” 

I shook my head. “No.” 

“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her. 

She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”

I was confused, and she knew, but did not care. 

“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”

Where the hell is she going with this? 

“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.” 

She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred. 

Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.” 

She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat.  “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe. 

“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!” 

She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”  

“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked. 

I nodded. 

“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.” 

“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”

This woman is NOT well in the head. 

“You--you like Spencer?” I asked. 

“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.” 

I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!” 

I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera. 

“Is that-- is that a camera?” 

She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.” 

“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled. 

“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!” 

She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.” 

Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!” 

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Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation. 

We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more. 

“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.” 

I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.” 

I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child. 

JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?” 

“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.” 

“What did you say?” 

“What do you think I said?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize. 

“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.” 

“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.” 

“Was it, you know, friendly?” 

“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped. 

“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.” 

“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.” 

“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?” 

“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.” 

“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand, 

I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.” 

“What Spence? What?” 

“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”

“She thought she was what?” 

“A student.” 

“And what did you tell her?”  

“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.” 

“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”

“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.” 

“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”

I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch” 

“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.” 

“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization.            “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me. 

“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.” 

“I’ll tell the team.” 

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A/N2:  If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!

[palbabor-writes]

Lá Bealtaine

Pairing: Choso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, cunnilingus, SMUT, NSFW/18+only, loss of virginity - if you squint, using sex to mask feelings & trauma, mild JJK manga spoilers; but if you’ve seen the anime you’re pretty caught up on this stuff

Word Count: 4732

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

You lift your head, blinking at his obsidian surveyance. “What am I supposed to do? Say no? Not like I put an advertisement on the door: seeking dangerous men and nefarious spirits, inquire within. I’m not wanting to die, you know? Besides, it’s not all bad.”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped.

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Notes: hehe, when i said i had Choso brain rot i was not joking. this dude has been on my mind for weeks, ya’ll. WEEKS. special thanks to @libiraki​ & @kugutsuu​ for beta editing! if you haven’t checked out their works please stop what you are doing & scuttle yourself over there bc you are missing out.

Lá Bealtaine [l̪ˠaː ˈbʲal̪ˠt̪ˠənʲə] 'the bright or yellow day of Beltane' - a time of fire and fertility.

It started with a touch. A simple interaction; but it sticks to the back of his mind and the heat of your hand lingers, a remembrance that he can’t shake.

He’d returned to the dingy bowels of the hideout, boots echoing over the well-worn floor as he made his way to his customary seat; unaware of the blood that oozed from the strip above his nose. Legs and arms are heavy as he slots himself into the chair, his eyes drooping closed as he leans his dark head against the cushions. 

Two weeks.

Choso’s younger brothers were killed two weeks ago. Leaving him alone; adrift in his loss, his failure as an elder brother. The remembrance of them stung in the morning and was an ache by afternoon, but in the night’s darkness it burned.

He will have his chance, he reminds himself, furrowing his brow; seeking the faint traces of the other six who need him to press on, and the hollow twinge of the two who need vengeance. The 31st is only fourteen days away; he can wait. He can–

The pressure of the sudden touch makes him jerk; coal-dark eyes snapping open, searching for the source. You’re standing above him, hand outstretched, the pad of your thumb delicately catching the long forgotten drip of blood against his cheek. 

“You shouldn’t touch that,” he says, voice gruff in the vacant emptiness of the space; but he doesn’t shift, meeting your frank gaze unblinkingly. 

“Oh?” you question, swiping the sullied digit across your pants, tacking the deep crimson into the material of your jeans.

“It’s poison,” Choso clarifies. The spot you’d stroked your thumb down is tingling. Exhaustion, he muses, itching his nails into the thick fabric of his loose pants. He’s imagining it; there’s no other explanation.

“You’re not going with the others?”

What? How can he? They’re dead. Ah, no. He’s not thinking clearly. You don’t mean his brothers; you mean Getō.

“No,” he quips, lifting the back of his hand to his cheek, wanting to quell that spreading warmth that you’ve left him with. 

“Then you don’t need this, right?” You gesture to the mess of game pieces and the forgotten board that is scattered across the low table in front of him. He shakes his head and you begin the steady process of tidying up, collecting the mismatched jumble into your arms, folding the rest into the tattered box before you step away. 

Choso closes his eyes again, steadying his breaths, finding the pulse of the blood that thrums within him. Nothing is out of place. So why does his cheek feel like it’s on fire? There’s no reason for it. Is he this starved for a connection that he’s latching onto the first interaction he receives? 

His onyx eyes follow you as you walk across the matted flooring. You own this space; have struck some kind of deal with Getō and the others, permitting them to come and go, quietly cleaning up their messes, and ducking out of sight when they gather within the confines of the darkness; talking through the plans, the ins and outs of the sealing and the massacre that they hope to spread throughout the underground station of the pre-ordained prefecture. 

In the grand scheme of things you’re nothing. Why waste energy focusing on you? It won’t matter in fourteen days.

The clink of the cup on the table rattles him out of his thoughts and Choso peers into the depths of your clear gaze once more. “What is it?” he queries, running a broad hand down his face, hoping the pull will make him forget the persistent warmth that’s radiating from the spot you’d touched. 

“You look tired. Drink that and get some rest.”

“Giving orders now?”

“Sure,” you grin, cocking your head at Choso’s curled lips and wrinkled nose. “That’s a good one. Like any of you would ever listen to me.”

What’s this called? Self deprecating humor? Well, whatever it is, Choso doesn’t enjoy the brittle tone your voice has drifted into. It doesn’t suit you and that low annoyance that’s been brewing under his skin is coming closer and closer to the surface. His fingers are on the cup before he can properly sort through his mismatched emotions, but he doesn’t miss the lift of your lips when he gulps the scalding tea down his throat. 

Why does he care? You don’t matter. You’re no one to him.

“Easy,” you tut, shaking your head at his sharp gaze. “You’ll burn yourself.”

So? He’d rather feel something burn than linger into the uneasy pull of an ache. 

Choso looks for you when he enters, shifting past the others. You’re tucked toward the back, brows creased and head down. It’s a smart move, but the frightened hunch you’ve adopted bothers him more than it used to.

“We have a few minutes,” Getō announces to the gathering, dark eyes bright as they fall on his impassive face. “And Mahito is always late.”

There’s an implication behind it, but Choso opts to ignore that uneasy instinct, already turning. He’s just going to ask you for tea; that’s all. When you spy him, you smile and that spot on his cheek flares, remembering the sweep of your thumb.

“Lucky you caught me,” you tell him, hands busy with the rattling cups. “I was about to go.”

He narrows his eyes, watching the curve of your neck, the stretch of your fingers, and the uneasy twitch of your shoulders. This sort of existence doesn’t suit you. You’re the antithesis of this; normal, kind, unabashedly human. So why do you… 

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

You lift your head, blinking at his obsidian surveyance. “What am I supposed to do? Say no? Not like I put an advertisement on the door: seeking dangerous men and nefarious spirits, inquire within. I’m not wanting to die, you know? Besides, it’s not all bad.”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped. 

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Choso shakes his head, openly scowling at your answer. “Me?” he sputters, sucking his teeth and pressing his clenched fists into the long table that you stand behind. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, pouring the steaming water over the leaves, wafting the fragrant essence of the tea between his clenched jaw and your ducked head. 

“I don’t… that is...I...” Choso begins, but fumbles into silence when he catches sight of your eyes, half hidden behind the sweep of your lashes. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. “You’re strange,” he finishes, huffing a belabored sigh between his pursed lips, but when you laugh he can’t help a faint smile. 

It will feel disloyal later, that burst of momentary happiness, but right now he doesn’t mind the distraction; cupping the yunomi between his palms, catching your fingers before they can pull away, enjoying the warmth you transude into his chilled hands. 

Nothing holds. Choso knows this better than most. All things, given time, change. It is an inevitability. Something he’s known intrinsically, and clung to, all those years; when the only constant was the beating of his brother’s hearts beside him. But change rarely announces itself, content in its own emergence; the omnipotence of its bite.

Something has shifted. 

“You didn’t go again?” You ask one night, sitting beside him, a cooling mug between your fingertips. 

“Didn’t see the need,” he tells you, an outstretched legs brushing against yours. 

“You’re different… you know that?” A smile hidden within your words. 

“So are you.” He likes that, he thinks. He likes it more than he should.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

You bite your lip and he watches the press of your teeth, hoping you’ll split the skin. 

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.” You bargain, coyly shaking your head.

“I’m close enough and I don’t like games,” he grumbles, hoping you won’t leave it at that, because while it’s true that he doesn’t like games, he’s enjoying this give and take. 

“Please?”

There’s something intoxicating about that gentle sound and he turns, wordlessly following your crooked finger. He towers over your seated form, but you don’t let that imbalance hang, hands tugging against the white of his shirt, urging him to kneel between your spread legs. When he settles, you curl your fingers against his jaw, smoothing that blistering heat over his icy skin until he’s pressing forward, resting his heavy forehead against yours. 

You’re so warm, he inwardly gasps, his breaths coming in pants. So warm he fears he might grow addicted to this heady intimacy. “What do you want?” Choso asks, the deep timbre of his voice quaking. 

“You.” It’s such a simple answer; how like you.

“I am here,” he replies, half drunk on the feel of your skin.

“Yes, but what if I told you I want more?”

That question casts him into the darkness. He’s unused to this; doesn’t know what to do, what to say; he’s been sealed for so long, too long, and he feels wobbly, lightheaded, but he tries to reach, his fingers grasping at the base of your neck, pulling you toward... toward…

The clatter of the front door startles you both, and he’s on his feet, eyes wild as they look down on your parted lips, and the furrowed confusion of your brow. Your hands are still upturned, waiting for his.

The others step into the space and when he blinks again you’re already gone; your chair vacant, the warmth you’d shared evaporating into the unfeeling cruelty of the chilled air. Shit, Choso curses, grinding his teeth.  

Something has shifted; it will be impossible to tear himself away from you now.

It’s only been a day, but he can’t stop staring at you. He doesn’t hide his blatant gaze, obsidian eyes tracking each step, hungrily snapping to yours each time you come near. You do nothing to lessen this itching want that’s raging within him, leaning close, pressing your hand against his shoulder as you gather the discarded cups that are scattered between them, asking him if there’s anything else he needs, your breath hot against his ear. 

He’s unsure if he likes this. 

But each time you shift away he wants to drag you back. 

When they leave, used to his excuses, and his protestations that as long as the mission doesn’t involve Itadori Yuji or Kugisaki Nobara he’s uninterested, he stands; head turning, searching for you. 

Ah. There you are. 

He’s against you in an instant, stiff hands cupping you, greedy to touch, to hold. You squirm, a laugh bubbling from your lips, swatting his wide palms from the tempting swell of your hips. “What’s gotten into you?” As if you don’t know.

“Tch,” he scolds, “you’ve been toying with me all evening. You said you wanted more yesterday, so show me.”

You breathe out a chuckle, bemused by his enthusiasm and take his hand in yours, leading him down a hallway. He’s never been back here, but he follows, trying to steady the thudding of his heart. Controlling his life’s blood is second nature to him, so why does this feel like it’s a losing battle? 

The room you open is dark, but he can make out the shape of a futon, stark against the mats, and his eyelids flutter, too overwhelmed by the realness of this befuddling situation to look. To distract himself, he pulls you against the slope of his chest, splaying his fingers against the sweep of your collarbone. You twist in his loose hold, folding your arms around his powerful neck.

“Do you still want this?”

Choso unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, gulping down a wavering breath. “I already told you,” he begins, his voice gravel, “show me more. Show me what else you want to do with me.”

“Can I kiss you?” you inquire, dipping your head enticingly, catching his wandering attention, urging him nearer. He doesn’t answer, electing to tap his lips against yours, clumsily pressing until the tip of his nose digs into your cheek. It’s easy to feel your heartbeat like this, and he wraps his arms around your lower back, eliminating the meager distance that was trapped between your heaving chests. 

You let him steady himself, careful to keep your movements slow, but the squish of his face and the jerk of his hands tugs a bated humph of discomfort from you and he breaks away, elegant brows crumpled as he searches for the source of your discontent. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you amend, smiling at his obvious pout. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Choso questions, stroking a palm up your spine, a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth when you draw in a gasp. 

You cup your hands beside his ears, fingers sinking into the dark tangles of his hair as you lure him back to your parted lips. “Open your mouth.”

He does as he’s told and you mold him against you, lapping your tongue over his, earning a shuddering moan and a sharp caress as he coils his hand around your throat. It’s easier this way and Choso steadily follows your lead, mimicking your sucks and teasing bites. Teeth clash when he reaches for more but he eases the sting with a flick of his tongue, and you nibble his lower lip in retaliation, pleased he’s so malleable. 

Your fingers fall to the sash that rests above his stomach and he grunts when you pull at it, easing it away with a stable unwinding. His breaths are heavy against your kiss shined lips, but he keeps perfecting his new found techniques, sweeping chapped skin until it’s worn smooth by the wetness of your tongue. His own hands are preoccupied with your neck and the gentle underside of your jaw, fingertips pressing until you can sense the pound of your heart within his grasp. 

“What are you trying to do?” you ask between his frantic presses. “It’s like you wanna match my pulse, or something.” 

“Worry about yourself,” he grouses, ill-pleased with your answering laugh. “It’s going to take forever if you go that slow.”

You shove your palms against his chest and he stumbles backwards, his booted feet loud against the heavy mats, dark eyes flashing up at yours as his face falls into a deep-seated glower. “What?! What was... why did you…”

His angry retorts melt into nothingness when you fling your shirt over your head, sending the thin fabric fluttering to the ground. The sudden exposure leaves him gaping, unsure of himself once more, but you ease the shock, grasping his limp hand in yours, guiding it over the dip of your stomach, and up the flow of your side. 

“Let’s play fair, huh?” you tease, tapping a kiss to his cheek, careful to land it in the same spot your thumb had touched weeks ago. Choso nods, obsidian eyes wide as his fingers trace over your goose-prickled skin. “Alright, well, it’s your turn.” 

His gaze snaps back to yours, whisking over your face; as if he’s searching for some kind of answer in the lift of your nose, or the plushness of your lips. Whatever it is, he seems to have found it because he ducks his head to yours, resting his brow against the crown of your temple, hands lifting to his own clothing, making quick work of the intricate knots and folds of the fabric.

The gleam of his skin in the moonlight takes your breath away, and you reach for him as he eases the black off of the white, sliding your warmth over the coldness of his bared pectorals. He’s smooth; skin as soft as freshly cleaved talc, or a scattering of downy feathers, and you keep stroking until he’s shaking under your touch, his exhales unsteady against your face. 

“I think I have more blemishes on my fingers and arms than you do on your entire body. You’re so soft,” you tell him, tracing an outspread hand against his muscled abdomen. 

“I’m... this is a new manifestation,” he answers, hoping the strangeness of him, of his half human, half cursed being, won’t drive you away. 

“Hmm,” you nod, pulling him down for another kiss. “It feels nice.”

He’s slow to undress. Not because he doesn’t want to see more of you, he’s simply distracted, too focused on touching what bits of you are revealed; the arc of your hips, the tipped buds of your breasts, and the line of your legs. But you’re like water; slipping through the gaps of his fingers, leaving him wanting, unsatisfied with his fragile hold.

When the last scrap of clothing is off, he waits, his cheeks flushed and mouth dry. “Now what?”

“Do you want me to touch you first?” you ask, that tantalizing smile lifting your lips. 

“No,” he asserts, shaking his dark head. “I want to learn you before that...so show me.”

“You’re very unusual.” Tilting your head as you take his hand, leading him to your futon. “You know that?” you continue, tumbling him over you as you splay across the crisp sheets. 

“Says the woman who is letting me between her legs,” Choso smarts, finding your lips in the gathering darkness. “Stop stalling; show me.”

With a pleased sigh, you reach for his hand again, looping your fingers around his as you guide him to the juncture of your thighs. You work one away from the others, gliding it along the ridges of your folds, showing him how you like to be touched. After his initial gawping and mystified rumblings of, ‘so wet,’ and half croaked, ‘fucks,’ he shifts closer, easing onto his haunches as he curiously follows your lessons.

“There,” he hisses, onyx gaze catching your twitching stomach and jerking hips. “Teach me how to do that.”

You work him to that apex, using your other hand to lift the slippery hood of your clit, showing him how to press and tap against the spongy nub. He’s a quick learner, his eyes falling from yours to watch the flutter and quaver of your cunt. 

“Move your hand,” he tells you, resting his lips against the hollow of your neck, his tongue lapping over your pulse. When you untwine your fingers from his he waits, lips too busy sucking a bruise into your skin; reaching for that unsteady thump of your heart. 

Bump-bump-ba-bump.

Yes. This will do. He’s caught the rhythm; can almost sense the flow of your blood, and see the surge of your clit under his touch.   

The next frig of his digit has you gasping out his name, legs unfurling, knees shaking beside his ribs, your head flopping back onto the futon with a dull thump as you arch into his hold. Choso reapplies the pressure, adding the pad of his thumb, leaving it opposite his seeking forefinger, squeezing until you’re clawing your blunt nails down the sheets. 

“You look good like this,” he smirks, looming over your heaving figure, licking his wet tongue along the valley of your breasts. “What else can you show me?”

Your fingers’ grip into his hair and you yank him from you, one brow delicately arched as you take in his irascible scowl. “You could put your mouth to better use…”

There’s no need to elaborate, and he’s wedged between your thighs before you can fully blink, ravenous lips slurping kisses and bites into the tender skin; he’s asking another question, but you can’t hear when he’s touching you like that, his fingers doggedly pressing at your clit, jerking more moans from your throat. 

“Wh-what?” you ask, breath stolen before it’s past your quivering mouth.

“I said,” Choso pants, lifting his inky head and fixing you with a dazed stare. “I can feel your heartbeat.” 

“Does that matter?” you laugh, popping onto your elbows to regard him inquisitively. 

“It helps,” he answers cryptically and you jab your toes against his arm.

“Helps with what?”

“You’ll see. Do you care if I experiment?” He lifts his fingers from you, sucking the dripping pads into his mouth as he waits for your answer.

“Knock yourself out,” you gape, biting your lip between your teeth.

His dark eyes glaze before he averts them, an appreciative smile gentling his sharp features. “Good,” he replies, easing one bent leg over his broad shoulder, sparing you a last glance before sealing his lips to your throbbing folds.

It starts slowly; a deep shudder that seems to radiate from your core before pooling against your extremities, making your fingers twitch and your muscles spasm incrementally. But Choso is mindful of the power that he’s found, and he eases you onto his tongue, helping you to relax with steady sucks, avoiding that all important button that is distending above his nose. He can almost hear the rush of your blood, can sense where to press with each swell of your slick folds, and he follows unquestionably; pleased he can lose himself in this, in you.

He taps his thumb against your entrance, eyes opening, searching over the curve of your breasts to see you, to watch what kind of expression you’ll make when he finally breaches this boundary. The sheer heat of you takes him aback, and he groans, his low voice vibrating over your twitching cunt, and you reward his elation with another moan, his name falling from your lips. 

What is this? 

He’s drowning and all he’s done is taste you. Will he die if this goes further? Or will it burn? Lapping away the remnants of his regret until there’s nothing left of him but splintered bone. 

“Choso,” you breathe, fingers latching into his wayward hair. “More, please… it’s not enough.”

He rotates his thumb before easing it out, making room for the wide push of his index finger, tongue lifting to swirl around the pulsing nub of your clit, and teeth grazing until you’re squirming.

“There!” you cry out, bucking into his open mouth. “Oh, god… I... I can’t––”

Something inside you shudders. He can feel it in the comforting thump of your heart and it makes him clutch you to him, his own hips rutting against the edge of the futon as he finds himself awash in the sheer intoxication of you. 

Fuck. Is it supposed to feel like this? Like he’s half himself and half you? Or is he simply drunk on the rush of your blood?

Your cunt sucks his finger deeper, gummy walls pulsing in time with your heart as he gulps down your essence, tongue greedily catching it before it has time to drip onto his upturned wrist. It’s good. It tastes so fucking good. 

He’s so winded by the sensations that he barely notices you pulling from him, his dark head lolling over the crinkled sheets, an inaudible moan slipping between his clenched teeth. Choso doesn’t resist when you ease him upward, warm fingers tracing up his heaving body as you press him onto his back. Only when you press a kiss to his fevered temple does he find himself, eyes bleary in the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, straddling his hips, your hand reaching for his straining cock, palming some of the leaking pre-cum over your fingers as you stroke him. “I can’t wait… I want you… can I? Choso?” 

This part will burn, he thinks, helping you to hold yourself steady, eyes slipping closed when he feels the slick heat of you gliding teasingly over his tip. When you sink down, his back arches, and he hopes that the whispering shadows, the lingering remnants of his guilt, will be tossed onto this fire you’re stoking. Your hips still when they reach his base, legs twitching around him, your nails catching against his smooth skin, working nicks into the clean slate. 

You’re clutching onto him like he’s the only thing tethering you down, and he opens his shuttered eyes to watch, hoping he can glimpse you past the smoldering of his want. You’re beautiful, he thinks, hand lifting from your hips to fiddle with the necklace that sits around your neck, admiring the glint of metal in the gloom. 

He wishes he could see more, that he could wait a little longer, but he wants to put an end to this ache; he wants to burn.

The lift of your knees leaves both of you gasping, and Choso stifles a moan, legs tensing restlessly under the steady push and pull you’re establishing over him. It’s so warm inside you, and he can feel the thrum of your blood again, so he tries to match his to yours, controlling his pulse, right down to the multiplicity of his cells, eager to feel that potent tug of release once more. 

“Does it feel good?” you ask, leaning back so he can admire his engorged cock as it plunges in and out of your sodden pussy. 

“Do you have to ask?” he grunts, lifting a hand to your breast, tweaking the tender bud of your peaked nipple between the knuckles of his fingers. 

When you call out his name again, he snatches you to him, dragging you to his parted lips as he digs his heels into the futon, rutting into you until you’re squelching lewdly around his pistoning cock. The world feels like it’s narrowing; the shadows lessening as he engulfs himself in you, his teeth working bruises into your neck, your shoulder, the tops of your breasts, anywhere he can reach; but it’s not enough. 

With a huffed groan he’s gathering you into his arms, robust thighs helping him to flip you onto your back, hands splitting your legs as he drives himself back into your welcoming heat. It’s deeper in this position. He can feel more of your twitches and pulsations as he steadies his arms beside your ears, bracing himself over your prostrate form. 

“You want me to touch you again, don’t you?” he asks, voice broken. “Do you want me to touch your clit? Will that make you cum for me? Will it?”

“I-I can do it,” you gasp, easing your fingers between your grinding bodies, knees spreading so he can watch. “Tell me when,” you murmur, head dropping as you arch, slipping him further.

“Now,” he moans, grabbing your jaw, forcing your lips to his as he slams his cock into you, setting himself alight; easing the incessant tug of his guilt until it’s a blunted thrum resting close to his heart. 

When you shatter around him, he follows, wholly caught in the ebb and flow of his release; lost in the depths of this unsteady solution.

He stays with you through the night, eyes following the line of your body as you sleep. His hands are cold, he thinks, easing them beside you, but not for much longer. 

The 31st is only four days away.

“Did he question you? Ask you for anything?” Getō’s words are lanced with care, his voice honey sweet as he steeples his fingers, peering at you with an avariciousness that makes you shake.

“He didn’t. I doubt it will happen again. I didn’t...I don’t want to...to… hurt––”

“What? Hurt him? He’s a half-breed monster. His feelings don’t come into this. Nor should yours; you have a family to think of, a mother who’s an invalid, a younger brother who can’t be depended upon, a father who’s a drunkard; too far gone to notice, or care, his eldest is missing; hasn’t attended her college classes in weeks... and your sister. Well, she’s still a child... much too young to suffer from your mistakes, don’t you think?”

“You’re the monster,” you grit, hands folded into your lap, nails pressing until blood wells under your fingertips. 

“Perhaps,” he smiles. “We’ll be out of your way soon enough. Let me know if you show any signs of impregnation, would you? Any spawn you whelp will be useful; very useful indeed.”

notes: i was gonna name this something else, and i know the dates i am describing don’t match with the sabbat, but Beltane felt like a smoother fit. 

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Binary Sunset (AU post RotS, Beru Lars gets an unexpected visit and has to make a tough choice regarding her nephew)

“Who are you?”

Beru reared back, attempting to put as much distance as possible between herself whomever this thing was, staring her down with cold dead eyes.

“I have come for my son,” the figure said, its voice deep and monotone and distinctly male.

Glancing behind herself into the sleeping quarters of the homestead, she saw that the infant child was still asleep in his cradle. She made sure not to give away his location, but when she turned her attention back to the intruder, her heart was already sinking. He had not moved. In fact, he might have been taken for a statue, had it not been for the loud wheezing breaths of a respiratory device of some kind. The man bore a cape, as black as the uniform full body suit and armour covering him. It danced in the twilight wind, as the two suns glowed behind him like red orbs. Their intense heat seemed insignificant, compared to the burning hatred Beru could feel from the man’s covered eyes.

“I don’t know your son.”

“Is that so.”

His mask gave nothing away, stoic, resembling a human skull. His words seemed a statement, rather than a question, as if he was making a mental note of her defensiveness. Tall, broad shouldered, menacing. Beru hoped she came off as genuine, but when he took a step towards her, she felt the primal urge to run inside, grab the child and flee.

“There is a child in your sleeping quarters,” said the man, after a long, chilling silence despite the sunlight still spilling in orange hues over the sand dunes. “He is not yours.”

“He is!” Beru heard herself growl, shocked by how possessive she had become of the little one in such a short span of time. “He is mine!”

“He is not. You may have taken him in as next of kin, but he is not yours to claim.”

Beru clenched her jaw, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder at the cradle. He was still blissfully unaware, swept in a soft duvet as he cooed in his sleep. Even over the persisting hissing of the intruder’s breathing, she focused on the child. 

Luke. Precious little Luke, destined for so much more than life as a poor moisture farmer. Face set hard, Beru made sure to place herself in the middle of the doorway, just outside the threshold. She would not back down, whatever that decision would entail. The ex-Jedi who had delivered him might have grander plans, plans this stranger might be involved with, but she wanted the boy safe. On Tatooine, if he was taught to fend for himself, to steer clear of Jawas, Tusken raiders and womp rats, he might become an ordinary young man some day. Without the mystical sorcery his father had fallen prey to luring him in.

“He is mine. We have adopted him, we are his only living relatives. He has no one else.”

Beru hoped she sounded genuine to the menace, hoped she was appealing to some sort of sympathy or compassion behind the threatening visage. When he spoke, his tone was even deeper than before, a rumble rivalling that of any fully grown krayt dragon.

“Do not lie to me,” he warned, and moved so suddenly Beru couldn’t help but gasp in mixed horror and startlement.

But all he did was raise one arm, letting the open palm hover midair, facing the woman’s face. She blinked, confusion seeping in - and then her head exploded from within. She flinched, as a sharp pain ground its way into her temples. The ache travelled down her spine, a loud ringing in her ears overpowering any senses as her vision went bright white - shutting out both the mysterious visitor and the binary sunset. She whimpered, her own hands flying up to cover her ears. She wanted to scream, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she thought what felt like an ice pick being drilled right through her brain. 

And then, it was gone. As if it had never been there to begin with. Unable to control her sobs, her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the ground. She panted, terrified of the man before her, of the agonizing headache returning. She could not explain it, but there was no doubt in her mind that the two were connected. The stranger had hurt her without laying a finger on her, if he was able to do that, what else was he capable of? If she had been wary before, now she was terrified.

“I - I am… not lying,” she managed to whisper, voice hoarse and unsteady.

“No. You are not.”

Surprisingly, the man agreed as he let his hand fall to his side. A wave of relief washed over Beru, but she was not prepared to build her hopes up that he may show her mercy and leave her and Luke alone. Luke needed to stay here, for his own safety. The Jedi had promised her he would keep them safe, and she had promised to love Luke as her own son. That meant defending him as if he were.

“You are not lying. You know only what Kenobi has taught you.”

Beru wiped her face with her sleeve as best she could, hoisting herself into an upright position with one hand pressed to the clay wall by her side. She clung to it for support, but through her watery eyes she saw that the stranger seemed more resolute, his stance more determined. She trembled, but stood her ground.

“I won’t speak of it. Not to you. Not to anyone. He warned us of strangers.”

“Kenobi is a liar and a traitor to the Empire, as are all Jedi. Would it be beneath an attempted murderer to lie?”

The stranger’s voice bore the same, mechanical character but it was sharper now, like a bark. Beru felt the hatred from before had returned, but didn’t seem to be directed at her. The way the man said ‘Kenobi’ revealed everything about whom the loathing was aimed at.

“I don’t understand,” the woman shook her head, cold sweat still soaking her forehead and she wiped her brow with her sleeve. 

“He told you the child has no living relatives, did he not?”

Beru’s eyes widened, before suspicion crept back in. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, willing herself to restrain herself from shedding any more tears. Even though she was still breathless, still shivering, still afraid.

“I never said it was him,” she settled for, as her retort.

“I am warning you to play along, or I may need to apply different methods to assure your complacency,” was the reply, and the man raised his hand again.

The threat was enough, and Beru shook her head vehemently, arms coming up to shield herself from another head splitting, intrusive mental assault. What she had assumed before was true, he had been controlling whatever power had tormented her senses. How? Why? Nothing made sense, but she believed him and that was enough.

“You are wiser than most. Fetch the child.”

“What?” the woman croaked, all the blood draining from her face as the intent behind the demand hit her.

“Fetch. The. Child,” he repeated, this time using his raised arm to point his finger at the doorway.

Only a sliver of pink and orange sunlight remained on the horizon. Owen wouldn’t be back in several hours. Beru hesitated, unwilling to comply, but found she could not resist. She could either obey, or protest and get herself killed. The stranger would take Luke away either way, she already knew that.

Stubborn tears welled back up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she slipped back into the primary living area of their homestead. Passing through another low doorway, she approached the cradle cautiously. She didn’t want to wake the child, didn't want to frighten him. Hushing him, or perhaps herself and her own soft sniffles, she picked the little bundle up. Beru made sure Luke was neatly wrapped in his duvet as she cradled him to her chest, rocking her arms gently when it seemed he might wake up. She breathed a sigh of relief when he settled back down, cooing and letting out a soft snore. Swallowing hard, Beru kept her head low and kept her gaze steady on the blonde tuft of hair on Luke’s head where it stuck out from underneath his pajamas. 

Not until she had crossed the threshold, relying solely on her periphery and memory, did she tear her eyes away from the infant. The intruder hadn’t moved an inch, the now chilly, crisp air biting at Beru’s tears streaked cheeks. When she spoke, her voice was soft but defiant.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“It would be foolish of you to presume I wouldn’t,” he simply stated, his tone matter of fact.

“He’s my boy.”

Once again, Beru hoped he had a heart somewhere behind the exterior facade of menace. Beyond those strange, terrifying powers he had displayed. 

“He is not. The child belongs with his father,” said the man.

“The child’s father is dead. So is his mother. I and Owen are the only family he has left, he has no one else. He means nothing to you, whoever you are. He means the world to me.”

“Then, we have something in common,” stated the stranger, and it took Beru a tad too long to understand what he meant.

“I… don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Not Kenobi, not you,” she felt the weight of realization as something began to dawn on her, but refused to voice it and see it confirmed.

The man shifted then, stalking closer with a couple of long strides. As he moved closer, Beru tipped her head back, staring up at his frightening stature but unwilling to turn away, for fear of what he might do if she lost an ounce of focus. He seemed much more focused on the bundle in her arms, however, and she instinctively held the child closer to her body for protection. The man was huge, towering over her, looming like a hungering predator ready to strike. The lenses of the mask he wore were a deep, crimson red, she noticed now. The colour filled her with dread, entrancing as she watched him peer in what could have come across as stunned silence at the peacefully slumbering infant. One the man’s large, gloved hands came up to reach for the boy, and Beru almost yelped in fear.

But instead of harming Luke with just a look, Beru was shocked to see the man touch the infant’s chubby little cheek with an unearned, unexpected tenderness. It was just a simple, gentle graze of fingertips, and a smile pulled at the corners of the child’s lips. He was still asleep, but he cooed something intelligible, one tiny hand reaching for the stranger’s index finger. The stranger seemed cautious, and Beru almost believed he was concerned, maybe even scared of accidentally hurting the boy.

“Kenobi would rather have you believe the child’s parents had perished,” said the stranger, but his attention was still single handedly on the infant.

“Where else would they be? Kenobi told us the Jedi order had been executed, framed for high treason. He told us Anakin Skywalker died with the rest of his kind.”

“They were not framed, they were the instigators. But I am not here to discuss politics that may result in your immediate execution, and neither should you.”

The threatening note to the man’s voice was back, and Beru pinched her lips tightly together. She knew by now that Luke’s life had never been on the line, not given how carefully the stranger was interacting with the sleeping form. Her life, however, was still in mortal peril - and perhaps Owen’s was, too.

“The fact still stands,” Beru dared to say, bracing herself. “That Anakin is dead, and Luke has no one but us.”

“Luke…”

The name was said so gently, so softly that Beru almost thought she had imagined it. Despite the harsh diction, the flat delivery seemed so genuine and heart felt. Gaze darting between the intruder’s mask, and Luke’s pleased expression as the man let him close his little fist around his finger, the suspicion only grew stronger in its persistence.

“Yes. Luke. His mother named him before she died, Kenobi said. Unless that was another lie,” the woman trailed off.

“She did believe you were a boy,” mused the man, almost wistful as he seemed to be speaking directly to the small child.

Still, the words left an impression. A cold, gnawing sensation settled at the pit of Beru’s belly; clawing its way up into her chest cavity where it remained, desperately grinding from the inside as if attempting to force itself out. There was something eerie and uncanny about the stranger, something distinctly familiar. Familiar, yet foreign. Known, yet unknown. She peered down at the infant in her arms, the love she had developed for the little boy overpowering, overwhelming her. Then, she ignored the alarm bells at the back of her mind, the voices screaming at her to resist the urge. Instead, she slowly held the baby out in front of her, face set hard and throat tight as a lump settled at the base. The ball of tears rose, until her eyes were once more brimming with tears.

The stranger eyed her with what could only be perplexed confusion, as if he was in disbelief that she would entrust him with the child. She remained motionless, as he seemed to be weighing his options. Then, with stilted, jerky motions, he lifted both arms. He reached for the bundle, and with caution as if the boy was made of glass, as if he were so fragile he might break at the simplest touch, the stranger accepted him. The scene was ridiculous; a man looking like the reaper himself had come straight from a galactic battlefield while shielding the very icon of innocence in his grasp.

 “You said his Anakin isn’t dead. If he’s alive, then where is he?” Beru said, and the calm, collected manner in which she delivered those words surprised even her.

The stranger said nothing, but he did look at her. 

A long, pregnant silence fell as the darkness of night finally settled over the farm, and the Lars’ homestead. Beru wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, blinking back the tears pooling in her eyes. She had wanted him to say it, to verbally verify and confirm what she suspected. It was impossible to deny, as she studied the wonder and amazement with which the stranger regarded Luke. What surprised her most, though, was when he hid the child close against his chest, and held her gaze. She felt his stare burning into her soul, his presence no less imposing than it had been when he first appeared. 

Beru found she couldn’t speak. She had nothing to say, and even if she did, it would have made no difference. She understood, and took a step back as she nodded at him, encouraging him with a mournful smile. He was dangerous, that much she could tell. The stranger was vicious, ruthless, and cruel. But he held a tremendous fondness for this child, and in that, Beru could see herself. In that, Beru found the strength to acknowledge that the stranger was, in fact, no stranger at all. Even as he turned his back, cape billowing behind him while he began to trudge through the sand in a direction only he knew where it might lead, Beru was certain that the man would keep Luke safe.

As the man grew smaller in the distance, Beru allowed herself to weep again, watching her nephew disappear into the ice cold desert night. Still, something nagged at her compelled her to make a bargain in turn. Not that she had anything to offer, but she was convinced the man who was not a stranger would be inclined to agree.

“Promise me Luke will be safe with you!”

The intruder halted. Sand whirled around his boots, starlight bouncing off the man’s domed helmet as a gleaming beacon of hope in the darkness. She sensed an odd, reluctant sort of foreboding but stood her ground. He did not speak, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer and she knew he would not have come this far if he didn’t have the intention to keep the boy out of harm’s way. She didn’t know the man well, never had, but she knew Luke. Shutting her eyes, Beru accepted the silence as the confirmation she had been looking for. She had been left alive, living to tell the tale. She knew he had come to kill her, she didn’t understand how, but somehow it was clear. Somehow, Luke would be okay. The man needed the infant, more than the infant needed him. It was the next right thing to do.

“Thank you, Anakin.”

Beru couldn’t be certain, but something told her Luke had a better chance at the kind of life he was meant for in the hands of his father.

-----------

You all knew where this was going, haha. I did intend to post this as another installment of Mask of Death but I’m not sure I should throw a non-canon compliant chapter in there as all others have been as compliant as fanfics can be. Let me know whether I should make an exception for this one or not!

I’m a sucker for dad!Vader and baby!Luke.

[marauder-exe]

Prompt List #2

Welcome to my biggest prompt list ever

if you wanna request something from this list, just use the character and ‘ prompt 34 from prompt list #2′ thank u!

Theres like 200 so be wary

Angst

“I love you ! Is that what you wanted to hear ?”

“I love him/her, and I know that I shouldn’t.”

“Can you just shut your mouth ?”

“wHY DO YOU KEEP LYING TO ME ?”

“We both know that I should walk away, but I can’t.”

“Wait, he/she has a girlfriend/boyfriend ?"

“I lo—-” “No, please… Don’t say that. You love her/him, not me.”

"Could you just take this pain away ? It hurts, so much… Help me.”

“You’re safe here, I got you.”

“Don’t ask her out again, please… You’re killing me, every single time you ask that.”

“Look, he/she wants you, just make him/her happy.”

“If you go, I’ll know that you never loved me.”

“We never were just friends, and you know it.” “I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.”

“SHE WAS CRYING BECAUSE OF YOU!!!”

“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” “But you are the only one who deserves it.”

“I know for a fact that you’re not “fine”.”

“You’re looking at me like.. you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!”

“What happened between us?”

“Nothing has changed!” “Yes it has, and you know it.”

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt this badly.”

“You said you needed space. You were 5,000 miles away for a year, and you’re still unsure. I’m starting to think that an entire universe apart wouldn’t be enough space for you.”

“I remember when he/she/they used to look at me that way”

“I want you to list every lie you ever told me. Then I’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t hate you. I hate that after all of this, you’re still trying to lie to me”

“I can’t keep this secret for you anymore.”

“I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for.”

“Why she/her/them? It could have been anybody, and you chose to betray me with her/him/them.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“You never loved me, did you?”

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.”

“We’re never going to have a happy ending, just remember that.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.”

“Your mind must be a horrible place.”

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

“And I thought you loved me."

" And I thought I loved you."

" Aren't you even going to cry?"

“I didn’t expect you to wait forever. I just hoped…”

“Did you always know that you were going to leave?”

“If you cry, I’ll stay, and if I stay that will just give you another reason to hate me.”

“I’m addicted and at this point I don’t think anything could make me stop.”

”If you wanna know, then ask.”

“You never asked because you knew I wouldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.”

“We grew apart, and at this point I’m glad.”

“Find somebody else to kiss your ass.”

“When are you going to stop clawing for something that’s never going to happen?”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

“It was easier to believe that the you I knew was dead than deal with the fact that I still have to see you every day.”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

Fluff

51. “You’re hair is really soft after you wash it.”

52. “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

53. “You smell really nice.”

54. “Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

55. “I might have slept with your robe when you were gone.”

56. “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

57. “Here, let’s share the blanket.”

58. “You’re comfy.”

59.“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

60.“But I want to hear you sing.”

61.“Don’t get up - I’ll do it.”

62.“Care to give me a back scratch?”

63.“I think I love you.”

64.“Your bed head is really cute.”

65.“How about a kiss?”

66.“You made this for me?”

67.Aw, you’re blushing.”

68. Uh oh, I know that look. What do you want?”

69. “Let me help you with that.”

70. “I don’t want to forget this moment.”

71.“Are you really flirting with me right now?”

72.“I like the way your hand fits in mine.”

73.“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

74.“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

75.“This movie is really scary, but you’re into it so I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time, but- WHAT IS THAT?”

76.“Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.”

77.“Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything”

78.“No, it’s fine.  I can wait until you’re done talking to them.”

79.“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

80.“You’re a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly.”

81.“I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.”

82.“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

83.“My friends get so annoyed by how much I talk about how sometimes.”

84.“No, mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”

85.“I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

86.“ You are so beautiful — So fucking beautiful. “

87.“And just WHERE do you think you’re putting your hands?”

88.“Wow, you look even better in the daylight.”

89.“I don’t remember ever having this many hickeys. But I don’t mind.”

90.“We could order pizza and just stay like this all day.”

91.“It was always you.”

92.I love you in every possible way.”

93.“I didn’t mean to love you so much.”

94.“Don’t you hurt a single hair on his/her/their head.”

95.“Duck, you idiot!”

96.“Hey. Pal. I’ve got a wand and I’m not afraid to use it.”

97.“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

98.“It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.”

99.“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

100.“I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror..”

Sarcasm

101.“Define normal.” 

102.“Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?” 

103.“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.” 

104.“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.” 

105.“It’s amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm.”

106.“I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.” 

107.“And you wonder why you’re still single.”

108.“Remind me to kill you. Please.” 

109.“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

110.“She’s crazy. And just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, there’s a crazy underground garage.” 

111.“She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she’s latex and whips.”

112.“If my day gets any worse, I’m asking hell if they’re having an exchange program.” 

113.“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.” 

114.“My middle finger salutes you.” 

115.“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel.” 

116.Somebody’s cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.” 

117.“Oh darling. Go buy a brain.” 

118.“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” 

119.“All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.” 

120.“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”

121.“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.” 

122.“What did I tell you about calling her/him the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?” 

123.“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!” 

124.“I need therapy after this.” 

125.“You didn’t get in trouble for lying. You got in trouble for lying badly.” 

126.“I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.” 

127.“I think you’re weird.” “I think you’re boring.” 

128.“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.”

129.“Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.” 

130.“I’m gonna hit you so hard, it’ll make you ancestors dizzy.” 

131.“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.” 

132.“Well, excuse me, psychic wonder!” 

133.“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.” 

134.“She’s hot, but she’s evil.” 

135.“Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.” 

136.“I already know that I’m going to hell. At this point it’s really go big or go home.” 

137.“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.” 

138.“So stick that in your juice box and suck it.” 

139.“Never take life seriously. No one ever comes out alive anyway.” 

140.“Sometimes I question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”

141.“Why should we date?” “Because we are attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.” 

142.“Neither one us is drunk enough for this conversation.” 

143.“You’re questioning my methods.” “I’m not questioning it, I’m saying it’s stupid.” 

144.“Wow, somebody needs a Happy Meal.” 

145.“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.” 

146.“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.” 

147.“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.

148.“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.” 

149.“Rule number one: don’t bother sucking up. I already hate you, that’s not going to change.” 

150.“You make no sense to me.” “Welcome to my life.” 

Drama

151.“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?”

152.“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?” 

153.“Don’t think I forgot about what you did last time.”

154.“I know you lied to me.”

155.“I’m not even sorry.”

156.“You backstabber!” 157.“I never want to see you again.” 158.“You never mattered to me.”

159.“I knew this was a bad idea.”

160.“Rot in hell.”

161.“It was supposed to be a secret!”

162.“No one loves me.” 163.“He/she/they is/are so petty…” 164.“You made me cry.” 165.“I don’t know who you are anymore.” 166.“How DARE you?!” 167.“I know you’re not talking to me…” 168.“I SAW you with him/her/them!”

169.“Just leave me alone.”

170.“What did you do?!” 171.“I told everyone that I didn’t want to talk but I’m actually dying for attention.”

172. “Just admit that was extra…”

173.“I forgive, but I don’t forget.” 174.“Did you see what he/she/they was/were wearing?” 175.“So what if I had sex with your ex?” 176.“There’s something I have to tell you…” 177.“I can’t do this anymore.” 178.“You weren’t there for me when I needed you the most.” 179.“I never loved you.” 180.“It’s too late.”

181.“Quit ignoring me.”

182. “Don’t you get it? It’s because I love you!”

183.“I love you. I’m sorry.”

184.“I don’t want to be friends.”

185.“Can we please pretend I never said that?”

186.“Friendzoned again.”

187.“You should’ve loved me when you had the chance.”

188.“Fuck you for toying with my emotions like that.”

189.“I was there for you when no one else was!”

190.“Alright – I can tell a ‘no’ when I hear it.”

191.“I’m sorry I acted so creepy.”

192.“Fuck. It’s like what they say – nice guys finish last…”

193.“I’m tired of keeping this secret. Even if you don’t love me back.”

194. “I knew that’d be your answer. That’s why I never told you before.”

195.“When I said I loved you, I meant it.”

196.“Is there any part of you, deep down, that might love me back?”

197.“You were the one that left all those notes for me?”

198.“You’re in a relationship with another person – you know this can’t end well.”

199.“We agreed this was just physical!”

200.“I love you. I know you don’t love me, so don’t say it back.”

Ahhh im sorry that was so long, but if you read all the way to here, your a real one.

Again i write for all Hp characters! Feel free to use these prompts as ur own

[docockbrainrot]

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.