#and a chest flat enough to thirst trap

[strwbrypoptart]

new transition goal: convincingly cosplay my boys doing asmr

[mangostarjam]

summertime madness — kaiju no. 8, narumi gen x f!reader, "babe" as a petname, sorta rivals to lovers, smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, written for @tetzoro's summer olympics collab, 3.7k words

"Fucking bite me, Narumi."

"I'm trying, dummy!"

You stop your hasty escape abruptly, but luckily Narumi Gen's reflexes are good enough that he catches you around the waist as he stumbles into you, one palm slamming flat on the stucco wall of the alleyway to keep both of you from bouncing into it. His chest heaves against your back as he huffs. He doesn't let go of your waist.

"What did you—? Narumi, you just called the Japanese men's volleyball team ugly. You're the one walking around with shitty dyed hair!"

"My hair's natural, babe, unlike that bleached blonde sitting way too close to you," Gen grumbles. You can feel the summer Parisian air getting stickier with humidity by the second, not at all helped by Gen's body heat so close to your own. "Besides, I can prove it."

You don't even want to think about how he could try proving something like that. You dig your elbow into his side instead. "Get off me, dummy."

His grip loosens, but he doesn't move. You manage to spin around and his hand settles on the dip of your waist, his nose brushing yours as he grins cheekily at your averted gaze. "This is the longest conversation we've had since we got here, y'know."

"It's your own damn fault you're so obnoxious," you mumble, turning your head slightly so his breaths just puff against your cheek. The sticky heat feels hushed. Charged. Your gaze snags on the flex of his arm bracing against the wall behind you.

A distraction. You need a distraction.

"Your mouth is what got you into trouble with the Japanese men's football team yesterday, too. They were going to offer us free tickets to their next home games."

"That sleepy white haired guy was looking at you too much," Gen says flatly. You finally meet his red eyes squarely as the corner of his lips tugs up. "I can get you one of those chocolate muffins you were asking him for. Besides, I was just looking out for you — as your captain." Your cheeks feel hot. "Now why don't you tell me more about what you think of my mouth?"

"I think you need to shut up."

"You can make me?"

Your nose wrinkles before you can stop yourself and Gen laughs. He finally backs off but grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together and tugging you down the alleyway. "Save your shitty pickup lines for all your new social media followers," you bite out, but you let him pull you along anyway.

"Hey," Gen says, glancing at you from beneath his bangs as you catch up to his pace. "How come you never like my thirst traps? I post those for you, y'know?"

You digest this for a moment, torn between wanting to poke fun at him for lying through his teeth (how could they be for you when you're just you? it's gotta be for the thousands of new followers he gets every day now that he's an Olympian) and speaking aloud the admission that could change your relationship forever (but only if he's serious — though it feels rude, to question him, when his hand squeezes yours).

The two of you pause at a crosswalk and he tugs you close as the crowd presses in. Paris is teeming with pedestrians and cars and it's nice, being together in your own little bubble as incomprehensible chatter fills the space around you. Gen's better at navigating the street signs and the many twisting turning side streets, so you let him lead the way and he lets you stick close.

"Where did you even learn about thirst traps, captain?" It's the middle ground, a safe route.

Gen shrugs and you stare as his broad shoulders shift beneath his stupid "Sincere" t-shirt. "I saw some of the other athletes doing it to promote their sports."

"And you think locker room photos where you flash your abs will suddenly make everyone want to join their nearest swim team?"

Red eyes cut to yours and you blink. Gen's smile is lopsided, curled like a kitty cat. You want to smack it off his face. "So you have seen them."

Of course you've seen them. Not that you needed to — a shirtless Narumi Gen is not a rare sight for you, not when you've been training under the same coach for half your lives — but the thirst traps are… different. Whoever taught him to pose so effortlessly needs to get pushed into the Seine.

"What're you talking about?"

"You know I took those pics in the locker rooms," Gen says. He sounds so smug it makes your blood boil.

"It was a lucky guess," you lie through your teeth, "locker rooms are a classic backdrop."

Gen frowns. "How do you know so much about other peoples' thirst traps?"

You're nearing your dorms in the Olympic Village, and your ear catches other languages besides French and English swimming through the air. Athletes of all shapes and sizes and nationalities begin to converge along the path. Gen tucks you closer into his side.

"Uh, I don't live under a rock," you say, only to forget the rest of your thought when someone walking in front of you glances back to meet your eyes.

He's tall, with wavy brown hair and a pretty face. Something about his build reminds you of the volleyball team you just left earlier. "Are you two Japanese?" he asks, in perfect Japanese. He's also wearing a jacket with the Argentina flag on it.

"Yes," you respond automatically.

The guy's polite smile breaks out into a wide grin. "Perfect! What sport are you here for?"

"Swimming," Gen says shortly. "Excuse me, she's having a meeting with her team captain."

"Oho? And who's that?"

"Me," Gen says. The Argentinian Japanese guy gives you a sly grin and an eyebrow wiggle. It kind of makes you want to hit him.

Gen steers you away before either of you can say anything else. Goosebumps erupt along your skin as the blast of air conditioning washes over you upon entry into the dorms and you valiantly try to suppress a shiver. The lobby is practically empty compared to outside, but a few athletes look up and eye the two of you with blatant interest.

"There are too many goddamn hot people here," Gen complains. He leads you down a hallway and flashes you a smirk. "Good thing I'm the hottest one around."

You stifle the urge to roll your eyes, well used to Gen's bursts of ego. He is hot — you won't deny that, not now — but the thing you've always been drawn to the most is how he cares. It isn't obvious, like with any of your previous relationships. Gen just works extra hard out of sight — long practices late at night when he says he stayed up gaming, not knowing that you spotted him hoisting himself out of the pool under the moonlight, droplets glistening along every dip and plane of his muscled back.

Gen also doesn't interact much with the rest of Team Japan, but they all rally around him as their captain. Everyone is aware that they can depend on him to anchor their relays or direct them to the right venues because he's seemingly picked up a lot of useful phrases in those international video game lobbies (and in the quick study language books you've spotted hidden beneath the mess of his rooms).

You don't think he knows that you know any of this about him.

You don't know if it matters.

Gen ushers you into a room as you ruminate, shutting the door behind you and quickly shoving the mess on the floor aside so there's a clear path to his bed. You stare at him.

"Narumi… how is your dorm so messy," you ask helplessly. "We've only been here for three days."

"I have a gift," he shrugs. You can't help the laugh that bubbles up, but Gen watches you, pleased.

You shiver a little as another blast of cold air fills the room. "So what did we need to talk about, captain?"

Gen picks up a hoodie and offers it to you, watching wordlessly as you accept it and pull it on. It's oversized on you, dropping heavily to your thighs and covering your hands completely, so you shove up the sleeves as best as you can. "Thanks."

Gen turns around and crouches on the floor. "I can't do this. Fuck."

Uh, oh. Is the stress of competing at the Olympics getting to him?

"Um…" you crouch next to him and hesitate a second before resting your palm on his back. He's warm through his t-shirt, the shift and bunch of his muscles annoyingly attractive even as worry bubbles up in your chest. "Are you… good?"

"You'resofuckingcuteIwannadie."

You rub his back a little harder. "Narumi-kun?"

"I wanna eat you out."

Your hand freezes. Gen shoves his hands roughly through his hair and peeks over at you, a tiny frown on his lips. Red eyes skip over your face — pausing on your softly parted lips, your eyes wide with shock, the way your cheeks puff with a stuttered breath. You don't know if you should bolt or play it off as a joke. Years of a (mostly) friendly rivalry stack up in the back of your mind like weights.

You've always been rivals and teammates. Never competing directly against each other in the pool, but always there, ready to egg each other on to faster and better times. Supporting each other through muscle cramps and plateaus and practices beginning before sunrise.

But you haven't talked to him in the three days since coming to Paris.

"I want you," he says clearly, twisting his body to catch your hands in his own, "to cum all over my face wearing nothing but my hoodie."

"Narumi…"

"Just one chance," Gen says. He brings your hands to his chest and flattens your palms against his heart, so that you can feel the rabbit fast beat thundering away. "Give me one shot, and if you don't fall for me or my dick, I'll leave you alone and you can flirt with all the other Japanese athletes."

"You're lying," you mutter. You can't quite look him in the eye, so you focus on the pout of his lips instead. "There's no way you'd leave me alone. And I wasn't flirting, I was trying to get as many freebies and tickets as possible."

Gen keeps both of your hands pressed to his chest as he reaches up to tilt your face towards him. You squeeze your eyes shut. "I wouldn't leave you alone because there's no way you'd leave me after I'm done with you."

You can feel his thumb brush lightly along the soft skin beneath your eye. This conversation feels incomprehensible. You can barely hear yourself over the thundering of your own heartbeat. "You'd be done with me?"

He cups your face with his hand and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. "Never."

The first time Gen kisses you, it's soft and hesitant, like he still expects you to pull away even after all this time. His lips are careful against yours, his tongue gentle as he swipes along the seam of your lips. You part them with a quiet gasp, an unspoken agreement, and his next kiss is a little hungrier, a little harsher. Heat bubbles up in your ribcage as he brings you into his lap, manhandling you in a way that makes your head rush, his hands heavy on your hips.

You clutch at his shoulders and sink your hand into his hair when he nips at your lip, drawing out a startled little sound and jerking in his lap. The movement brings you right up against the thick, hot bulge of him in his gray sweatpants. Gen pants into your mouth as he carefully, slowly rolls his hips up into yours, watching with hooded eyes when your head falls back at the feeling.

"You're so fucking hot," he mumbles, leaning up to suck a bruise into the sensitive skin of your neck. You feel the sharp nip of teeth and flinch, but he soothes the spot with his tongue before you can protest. "You've got a qualifying swim tomorrow, yeah? Hold on, let me loosen you up for it."

Gen reaches up and snags the blanket off his bed, spreading it out behind you before laying you down on it like something precious. He stays close, pressing his body along yours as he kisses his way along your neck, drinking in your stuttered breaths and quiet little gasps like he's been waiting his whole life to hear them. "N-Narumi —"

"Here, babe, let me —" Gen's ears are bright red, but he drags your pants and undies off in one movement, tugging when they snag at your knees and ankles and tossing them aside impatiently. "Fuck, is all this for me?"

Rough hands shove your thighs apart and you squirm, hot beneath the thick plush of his hoodie. Gen kisses along your bare legs, his touch feather soft at the bend of your knee and the curve of your thigh, so you get no warning when his tongue swipes broadly up your center.

You choke.

"Ha — oh, fuck — Narumi —"

"Quit calling me that," Gen huffs, diving back in like a man starved. He moans right into your pussy and you squirm, eyes clenching shut as every nerve ending lights up and dances like sparks to your core. His tongue is relentless, dipping and digging into every fold, circling your clit and tugging it into his lips so he can suck on it lightly, sending all of your thoughts spiraling into a crash of pleasure. Gen yanks your hips closer to his face as you begin to ride his tongue, chasing the overwhelming ache between your legs and throwing your arm over your face as you sob.

"Oh, please, please Narumi fuck," you yelp as he sucks particularly harshly at your clit. You peer shakily down and meet his eyes — darkened with lust — as he raises one eyebrow at you in wordless command.

Gen slides one finger into your clenching walls and crooks it, massaging a spot that makes you gush around him until you feel tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. You're so — so close —

"Gen, please," you moan.

He hums and resumes the lightning fast flick of his tongue against your clit, the pattern and pressure somehow exactly right to send you diving over the edge of your orgasm with a cry. Oh — wow. Pleasure whites out your vision for a moment and dances at the edges as you blink helplessly at the ceiling afterwards.

"You've gotta be naked when we fuck, come on, babe," Gen mutters roughly, his hands haphazard as he pulls the hoodie off and takes the rest of your clothes with it. There's a brief moment of closeness as he reaches around you to fumble at your bra, his chin glistening with your essence as he scrunches his nose in concentration.

Gen notices your look. He wipes off his chin clumsily with the back of his arm and finally tosses your bra aside, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he eyes your tits. "You have no idea," he says, gaze flicking to yours and softening. "You've got no fucking idea how much you've haunted me."

"Your clothes," you remind him petulantly, reaching for the edge of his shirt. Gen gets the hint and immediately starts stripping, cursing under his breath when his foot gets caught in his briefs and grinning when you giggle at him. Miles of smooth, strong muscle are revealed inch by inch. You reach up to brush your hands along the divots of his abs. "I think your thirst traps are going to get flagged, by the way."

Gen covers you with his body again, interrupting your blatant ogling. The heat and weight of him is welcome. You whine at the brush of his cock against your thighs. "You totally saw them."

"They're practically nudes, Gen," you complain, nose wrinkling at the taste of yourself on his tongue when he dips down to kiss you. "You can't share your v-line on social media."

He's so warm and solid and strong against you, his hand cupping your tit and squeezing as he watches you twitch in his hold. "I need you to cum on my cock," he says, his tone low and desperate. "I've wanted this for so long —"

You reach between your bodies and slide your hand along his dick, smearing precum along the shaft and shivering at the silky length of him. "Get inside me, then."

Gen groans as the head of his cock prods against your entrance, his face falling into your neck as he pushes just the tip inside. You can't help but clench at the feeling, fingers digging into his shoulders at the sudden stretch. It's a little bit painful, but in a good way, a pleasant, aching sort of way.

He pulls back just enough to push in a little further, short, aborted little thrusts that only serve to wind the coil in your gut tighter with every sharp grunt from his lips. Gen's cock is thick, stretching you just right and prodding against your insides until he's finally sheathed fully in your welcoming heat.

"Quit that," he mumbles, his breaths hot at your ear. "Are you trying to make me spill early?"

"Gen," you say suddenly, the thought piercing through the pleasure filled haze of your mind like an arrow, "what about a condom?"

"I'll pull out," he promises. Gen lifts his head enough to meet your eyes. "I'm clean. I got tested before we flew out."

"I did, too," you remind him. "We all did."

"Well, I've only wanted you, and you were ignoring me for three days…"

You stare up at him. "Are you seriously pouting about that with your dick inside me?"

Gen snorts and takes that moment to roll his hips, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he bites down a groan. You shiver, heat flaring hot up your spine at the messy, wet noises coming from where the two of you are joined. He gives you an expectant look.

"I'm clean, Gen, I've been too busy trying not to get run over by a car to sleep with anybody and besides, why would I want to when I couldn't stop thinking about you — oh you bastard," your voice trails off with a moan as he begins fucking you in earnest, his hips rolling perfectly to hit every soft spot inside you.

Your hands slide from his shoulders to his arms as he fucks you into the thick blanket and the floor, grabbing on for dear life as the shivering coil tightens and aches inside you. Gen huffs when you wrap your legs around his trim waist, grabbing at your ankle after a few thrusts and propping it up on his shoulder. The new angle makes you sob breathlessly, clenching around him desperately, and when he props your other ankle up you snap.

"Gen, Gen, Gen, fuck —"

The strong, relentless slap of his hips against the backs of your thighs fill your ears, the bounce and jiggle of your tits a mere afterthought of discomfort as he throws you over the edge with every perfect nudge of his cock against your inner walls. Gen curses under his breath but watches every expression flash across your face, bullying his cock through your orgasm as your pussy tries to suck him in for good.

"You're so fucking hot, babe, so fucking good for me I'm gonna — gonna cum, fuck."

You feel his cock throb inside you an instant before he pulls out, head hanging low as he spills all over your stomach up to your chest. Warm, wet seed smears along your skin as he leans against your propped up legs to breathe, a stretch you'd normally complain about except you can't quite feel your legs, anyway.

You glance down and squint at the hair between his legs. "Gen…"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Did you dye your pubes?"

Gen laughs and carefully removes your ankles from his shoulders, snagging a towel from the floor to wipe your body clean. "I told you I could prove it."

"I can't believe you," you laugh. You feel boneless. Satiated. Warm. "And you did bite me, you dummy. I'll still have marks during my race tomorrow."

"Good," Gen says smugly, pulling you up to drag his hoodie back over your body. You snuggle into the warmth willingly, yanking him down with you until his head rests against your chest and his legs tangle with yours. "I'm not done with you, anyway. How are your legs? And your back?"

"Will you massage them for me?" you ask sleepily. It's nice, combing your fingers through his hair with his arms wrapped around you. Gen folds into you like he fits, even though he's bigger than you. It makes your chest ache. "I'm not stiff right now, but maybe later."

"I'll give you a chocolate muffin, too," he mumbles. "The filling would taste pretty good on your skin."

"That's a waste of a perfectly good muffin," you frown. "Gen, promise you won't waste the muffin like that."

Gen leans into your hands as you scratch gently at his scalp and the soft, fluffy strands. "I promise the muffins are safe. No promises on ever letting you go, though."

You can't keep the silly smile from spreading across your face. Thank goodness he can't see you grinning like a fool. "That works for me."

Bonus:

"Babe! Babe," the anguished yell makes you flinch, but you'd recognize that voice anywhere. The area around the pool is crowded with swimmers getting ready for the next event, though neither of you are competing in this round.

"What the hell, Gen?" you yank him aside, hiding behind a few obnoxiously tall swimmers in case any cameras are trained your way. "We're supposed to be supporting our kouhai! What's wrong?"

"My account got banned," Gen says. You want to kiss the pout off his lips. Red eyes flick up to meet yours and his pout curls into a smarmy grin. "Lookin' good in the suit, babe."

"Shut up," you shove his face away and he laughs, catching your hand and lacing your fingers together. You turn away to hide your grin but he kisses your temple and you know he sees the curve of your lips.

"What? Can't a guy compliment his girl?"

"I reported your account for indecent exposure."

"HAH?!"

[filthypen]

The instant any girl says "UwU" during a stream they transform into a porn thirst trap version of themselves, and in akamatsu Kaede’s case ? She turns into Cowede of course~! The superior version~!

How about Shuichi watches a TikTok of Kaede doing the uwu trend ? (Description of the scene and kaede before the uwu, then comparaison with after, shuichi’s reaction to the body / clothes / attitude modifications too~)

Shuichi wasn't much of a Tiktok watcher, he was often too busy for what he considered ''dumb entertainement'', but today he had absolutely nothing to do, no work, nothing about classes… he could lazy out, just for a day at least.

He was laying on bed when he decided to open Tiktok and watch, it was mostly full of uninteresting facts that he already knew and flat girls doing some dances, nothing of his interest, he was gonna close the app and take a nap until…

''Heyaaaaa, Akamatsu here~'' Kaede had a Tiktok?! That's the first thing he thought, and by the amount of followers, likes and replies… she was a big one! ''So i've heard about some magic words from my friend Miu… normally i wouldn't trust something like that… but i saw that it was so trendy so why not! I still don't know what it does, but it should be fun!''

Shuichi was still trying to recall a time she told about her tiktok, but then he got distracted, Kaede left the camera in her tripod to show her whole body in her dorm, she was still wearing her usual school outfit, and of course, her usual curves with her double Ds~

''So… i gotta do this…'' She makes peace signs with her hands ''And just say… UwU!~'' Nothing happened for 3 seconds, Shuichi felt bad for her for a moment for falling into a dumb joke but then…

''M-moooooo… M-MOOOOOOOO!~'' Her chest started to rapidly grow on camera, from double Ds to DOUBLE GS, slowly tearing apart her pink shirt, revealing her super small cow bikini top (she always had it, she thought it was just cute!~) being stretched out, just covering her nipples, her ass also grows enough to lift her skirt, showing upo her cow panties, and be useless, and her thighs became so big they touched each other easily~ Shuichi was beyond disbelief, he thought this was some sort of edit, but it looked way to real, and well… he was liking it, judging by his huge bulge forming on his cute tight pants~

''Mooooooo!~ The Cowede has escaped the barnnn my faithful fanssss~ I will show you all tomorrow at my concert the real skill of a COW BITCH~~'' She slapped her own giga cow jugs together, and with a newly adquired 4ft long tongue started slobbering all over her own tits~ ''Cowede will wait all of you, sweeties~ SLURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP~~ MWAAAAAAAAAAAAH~~~~''

The video ended… it was real, he knew he was real… Shuichi was now just panting and looked behinf his phone… yepo, fully erect and he came already buckets of cum, the Cowede truly is going to get muuuuuch popular~

[breezybangtanbebe]

대취타 :Daechwita

Chapter 4: 넷

4.9k words

One year later

The rushing waters of the river soothe the burdened mind of this young fisherman trudging along the bank with his trappings and catch slung over his shoulder. With the morning sun beaming over him to cause several beaded streams of sweat to collect at his nape and brow, Yoongi stops with a deep sigh of exhaustion to gaze up at the sky. The brim of his bamboo conical hat lifts, letting the rays cascade over his skin, warming his tanned skin and chapped lips. He swallowed dryly, wincing at the soreness of his thirst, and glances over at the shallow edge of the river longingly.

It was almost midday, the time when the market was most busy. He knew Si-Hyuk would be expecting him, most likely already setting up their cart and sharpening their blades in preparation for the rush. He had to get back into the village with the fish before the sun reached the highest point of the sky.

But first, a quick drink.

He gently sets his belongings down with a soft thud, stretching his back and rolling his neck as he approaches a shallow area of the river to rest.

He kneels, resting one knee on the flat plane of a jagged stone, and cups his hands together to ladle a tiny puddle of water to his lips. Yoongi's eyes flutter shut as he relished in the cooling sensation flowing down his throat, half of it dripping from his chin to stain the thin tattered fabric of his shirt.

Yoongi loved being near the river, not only because of its remoteness and constant abundance of fish. Not even because it was the very place the old man, Bang Si-Hyuk , found him some time ago.

But he felt a connection to this spot that was deeper than what he could explain. He just knew it was significant to him in some way. Like if he continued to come there, every question swirling around in his mind would eventually be answered.

It was just a feeling though.

At least, so he thought.

Yoongi continues to drink from the stream, dipping his hands in to scoop up another puddle. Something moving in the rippled reflection in the water's surface catches Yoongi's eye, making him gaze up. They follow the waves towards the other end of the stream where a massive white tiger stood, having emerged from the lush green foliage of the forest behind her silently.

Her deep blues eyes flickered in the light of the sun reflecting off of the water's surface and they pulled Yoongi into a trance so debilitating, the water in his mouth flowed freely over his chin.

He remained as still as humanly possible for fear of startling the majestic beast. As if he had any other option. Running would be pointless. Reaching for his fishing spear, equally so. He would be dead in seconds, no match for the brute strength and fangs sharp enough to crack through bone.

His pupils widened as her eyes bored into him, her ears twitching and a low growl rolling through her tufted chest. Just when he believed he was succumbing to the most severe form of paralyzing fear, Yoongi felt his entire body relax. A wave of serenity passed over him, only enough to bring his galloping heart to a steady trot.

Many minutes passed as the two stared into each other's souls. Just as Yoongi is reminded that he hadn't taken a breath, the tiger breaks their fixed gaze and stoops her head to lap at the crystal clear waters.

As she lifts her massive head, her tongue darts out over her whiskers and pink nose as she turned to leave, giving Yoongi a glimpse of her large muscular frame. She moved with agility and grace, barely making a sound as her paws padded against the dirt and rocks at the edge of the river. The faded design of her black stripes are all Yoongi can bring himself to focus on as he watched her disappear into the forest again, leaving him stupefied and sagging with relief at having survived the brief encounter.

Though he had little to no understanding of what had just transpired, he chose to be thankful instead of curious.

Not many find themselves so close to a tiger and live to speak of it. So Yoongi considered himself very fortunate as he stumbled back and away from the river, stooping to collect his sack of fish as he trekked up the hill, into the forest, and towards the village.

"Ya! You're late!" Si-Hyuk swats at Yoongi's back as he rushed over to their shaded vendor lot, setting the heavy bag of fresh fish down gently behind their counter. The rush was just beginning to trickle in from the mainland and the market place was steadily becoming noisier and noisier.

Yoongi mumbles his apologies as he set out to begin descaling the fish he'd caught that morning while his employer, for lack of a better title, sharpened his knives.

Bang Si-Hyuk was an elderly fishmonger with no wife or children of his own, aside from his nephew Seokjin, who was also a fishmonger that lived in a neighboring village. Yoongi found refuge in the old man's home, helping him catch and sell fish in exchange for bringing him back to health. After finding him in such a weakened and vulnerable state, Si-Hyuk deemed it necessary to alter Yoongi's appearance in the best way that they could, and only he knew of his true identity.

So with his now dark hair chopped short, just below his ears and formally pale and regal skin that was now tanned and adorned in the rags of a peasant, the former Prince of Holangi was now one of the people and blending in seamlessly. Despite the very distinct scar running over his eye. But he did his best to keep his head down and avoided face to face encounters when he could so to not draw any unwanted attention.

"What took you so long? Daydreaming by the water again?" Si-Hyuk teases with a chuckle, pausing to wet the stone then continuing to glide the sharp side of his blade over it.

"Daydreaming?.." Yoongi grunts with amusement.

"..about that beautiful girl that shall not be named?" the elder continues, regarding a blushing Yoongi out of the corner of his eye as he skillfully deboned a fish.

Aruem was never far from his mind. But as time wore on, the sting of her memory was something Yoongi chose not to dwell on, especially since he knew that she was officially betrothed to his brother and would never be his.

But that never stopped the old man from teasing him from time to time.

"You do know...The news of a visit from the Han clan has been floating around among the people. I'm sure that a certain young lady will be in the province very soon. In case you were planning on reclaiming what's rightfully yours sometime soon.." Si-Hyuk hinted, making Yoongi roll his eyes with exasperation.

"We both know I cant. I don't deserve her or the throne Si-Hyuk..." Yoongi mumbles. Si-Hyuk scoffs.

"That's nonsense. You've been lost in the forest for long enough. And once your brother is...." Si-Hyuk pauses to glance around before whispering.

"..king. There will be very little you can do to stop him. He will drive the kingdom into ruin and dismantle everything your father built and fought for just to spite him as you told me. His actions have already displeased the gods and we, the people, are suffering as a result. It hasn't rained since the day I found you. If it wasn't for the river, everything and everyone would have perished by now. But there is still hope for change. You can still challenge him. She can still be yours. But you have to fight.."

Yoongi slams down his tool and exhales heavily. The table trembles with the force, making Si-Hyuk halt his tirade.

"I'm not the man I once was Si-Hyuk. I'm not as strong or as brave. I was changed when I fell into the water. I may have survived but a part me died that day...Holangi deserves a King without faults. A King without weakness. A King of honor. And that isn't me. Not anymore..."

Yoongi sags in the shoulders as the words left his mouth, considering them as if they were true. As he picked up his blade to resume his work, Si-Hyuk set his down and shuffled forward to approach Yoongi's side.

"And you believe the man in the palace right now...The man that now sits in your father's throne...is that man? The man who poisoned you and left you for dead...Stabbed you and threw you over the cliff all because he knew he couldn't face you?" Si- Hyuk huffs, shaking his head.

Yoongi glanced at him from the corner of his eye but doesn't respond, only reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow as he continued to work.

" I fought in the wars that earned our land its independence from the southern provinces. Under my King, your father. And I was only as half as capable as you are now. Nothing died that day in the river. You're only afraid of what you can become if you would just seize your moment. Which is approaching by the way. I can feel it..."

Yoongi considered his words but remained silent, letting Si-Hyuk know it was time to abandon the topic. The marketplace was becoming far too active for such discussions anyway.

"but what do I know?... I'm just an old man right?" Si-Hyuk chuckles breathily as he steps away from Yoongi, turning his back to him to speak to a customer approaching the front of their lot.

Si-Hyuk continued to chatter mindlessly to adjacent vendors and regulars as Yoongi brooded silently behind him with his head down but his ears sharp, only listening enough to catch his daily fill of the gossip amongst the other vendors.

In the middle of a very animated recall of a fistfight between Si-Hyuk's nephew and a belligerent customer the day before...

..a loud crash startles them all, making Yoongi's knife slip too deep over the delicate flesh of the fish he was working on.

He whips his head in the direction of a member of the royal guard kicking over a cart full of handmade ceramics. Bowls and saucers hit the dusted ground, shattering over its surface and attracting even more attention from surrounding vendors and customers.

"...Please no! ...take anything you'd like..." the woman who owned the cart begged, dropping down to her knees to catch what she could in an attempt to prevent any more of her merchandise from being damaged. But the arrogant guard with his thick wavy black mane, half knotted atop his head and the rest flowing over his shoulders, scoffed at the woman's feeble offer.

He lifts his foot to stomp on a cup, crushing it instantly under the sole of his shoe. In the same movement, he unsheathed his sword from where it was tucked beneath the red silk of his uniform. A gasp rippled over the market as he pointed the tip of the shimmering blade over the woman's head.

"Prince Yoongi isn't interested in any of this. You know why we're here." his deep voice boomed with exaggeration and Yoongi felt a twinge of rage twisting at his heart. Of course, his brother had assumed his identity. But he didn't think he would be putting so much effort into soiling his name.

The woman gapes with wide fearful eyes.

"But...I've already paid my tax." she stammers and the guard clicks his tongue.

"You have only paid half. This month's taxes have been doubled. You know that. Every seller in this market knows that..." the guard gestures towards the crowd with his sword, making everyone flinch at the sudden movement.

All except for one, of course.

When the sword was back aimed between the woman's eyes, she yelps with fright. Yoongi narrows his gaze when a small crop of black hair peaks from behind the woman, tiny hands clutching at her skirt and wide eyes glancing around the market place with fear and confusion.

A child.

"..please...I don't have it...I.." the woman shakes her head, reaching back instinctively to shield her son with her body.

A mistake.

The guard smirks when his eyes fall on the small boy, shifting the point of his sword in his direction. At this point, Yoongi hadn't realized he was stepping away from the table, his eyes focused on the guard and his scraper tucked tightly within his palm.

Si-Hyuk, who had been watching the exchange along with every other person, takes note of Yoongi's calculated movement. Every muscle in his lean frame flexed as he rolled his shoulders. He was poised and stealthy like a tiger setting out to stalk its prey.

"..Then you will pay with your child's life. We could always use more slaves in the palace." the guard responds with a sinister glint in his eyes. He takes a small step towards the boy and his mother turns her body to gather him into her arms.

"No! Please!..No!" she yells frantically as the guard loomed over them, blocking out the light of the sun completely with his body.

Everyone in the market looked on with sorrow in their eyes, all hoping someone would step in but also knowing that if they interfered it would cost them their lives.

A small hiss blows through Yoongi's clenched teeth at the panicked tone in the mother's voice. The wide-set and innocent orbs of confusion on the boy's face as he watched the guard step over them made Yoongi's heart constrict even more.

He was so small. He couldn't have been any more than 3 years old.

Yoongi glanced at the haunched shoulders of the guard, then around in search of any other members of the troop nearby as he calculated his attack. He didn't know where this sudden surge of bravery was coming from. He knew he couldn't reveal himself, especially now. But he also couldn't stand by and watch someone suffer because of him either.

He had to do something.

Just as he's about to step into the light, he's stopped.

"My Prince........" Si-Hyuk whispers, his tone sharp and laced with warning at Yoongi's stance, abandoning his position underneath the shade to stand behind Yoongi. His eyes flit down to the young man's hand, strained and squeezing the handle of the sharp scraping tool. Si-Hyuk reaches for his wrist discretely and Yoongi tenses.

"No...This isn't the moment..." Si-Hyuk hisses firmly at his side, squeezing his wrist even tighter. As much as he knew how capable Yoongi was of defending himself and others, it posed too great of a threat to expose himself like this.

Yoongi takes a slow step back behind the counter, lowering his knife reluctantly.

"Taehyung! Enough!"

Yoongi is pulled from his trance of fixed rage when he hears another voice calling to the guard. The aggressor now known to be Taehyung shifts his stance, lifting his head to glance over his shoulder as the crowd parted to make way for several decorated men with the seal of Holangi threaded into their robes and headbands matching his own.

There they were. The rest of the royal guard had arrived and Yoongi reluctantly gives in to Si-Hyuk's attempts to subdue him.

"What?" Taehyung barks at the voice that had summoned him, not a single thread of respect or intimidation in his tone, despite addressing his superior.

The other guard approaches, his face hidden in the crowd as he puts his body in between Taehyung and the woman cradling her small child to her chest protectively, tears in her eyes.

"I said...Enough. We're rounding and heading back for the palace. King's orders."

Yoongi's ears keyed in on the familiar tone, making him pause midstride on his way back into the shade of Si-Hyuk's lot.

"And who's orders do you believe I am honoring right now? You know the law. The law set in place by the soon to be King. If they can't pay for their freedom with gold, they pay with flesh..." Taehyung glances at the boy with mirth and the mother's brow furrow into a deeply cursed scowl. The other guard knits his brow as well, tucking his chiseled chin and flexing his jawline as he recaptured Taehyungs gaze.

"Well...He isn't the King I serve. We have direct orders to be ready to receive the royal family from the Han Clan this evening."

"Yet." Taehyung mumbles.

"Excuse me?" The superior guard squints.

"He isn't the King you serve...yet." Taehyung repeats with challenging eyes.

" Go ahead and join the others back at the Palace. I'll deal with this. That's an order." his nostrils flared slightly with his words, a habit that seems to be enough of a warning to force Taehyung into obedience after an extended shared glare between them ends with a blink.

"...Very well. Captain..." Taehyung sucks at the bone of his teeth as he backed away, sheathing his sword and falling in line with a few other officers of the guard as they turned on their heels in the direction from which they came.

As the small hoard made their way through the market, the captain of the guard sighs. He then turns his head to glance around at the crowd of spectators behind him. All witnesses of the thwarted scene of the disaster in the middle of their path.

"Everyone..please resume what you were doing. Nothing more to see here..." his deep yet calming tone rolls over the people and they immediately obey.

Another guard who was slightly smaller in stature but just as prominent with authority approached where the captain stood. As he kneels before the woman and her child, Yoongi felt the air escape from his lungs immediately when he caught glimpses of their faces.

The two guards were none other than Hoseok and Namjoon, Yoongi's life long companions.

"Are you alright?" Hoseok kneels to bring himself level with the frazzled woman, still trembling with fear with tears rolling over her cherub cheeks.

"Please, I cannot afford another payment. What I have will barely feed my son and I......I.." she sobs and speaks frantically, pulling her child even closer to her chest. Namjoon regards the woman with a sympathetic look then looks to Hoseok, tapping his shoulder with the back of his hand.

Hoseok nods after looking around and Namjoon shifts his position to give them cover with his large frame, ensuring that no one had eyes on them.

".. It's alright. Your balance is fine," he says to the woman in a soft tone and she frowns.

Hoseok reaches for his hip, producing a small sack of coins tied off at the opening. He offers it to the woman with hopeful eyes.

"Here. Take it. This should help you with food and next month's payment."

The woman gapes as Hoseok drops the bag into her hands. As she takes it, her eyes fall to her palm and widen at the weight of the offering. There was more than enough in the sack than Hoseok was implying.

"..but....this is too much...I wouldn't be able to pay you back..." she stammers and is silenced by Hoseoks hand over hers.

"There's no need." he smiles and at those words, the woman is reduced to tears once more. But not of fear or sadness. These were tears of gratitude.

"Thank you. Both of you.." she blubbers, rising from her knees shakily and bowing her head. Hoseok does the same, his hand still hovering over hers to conceal the bag of coins he'd gifted her.

"..No need to thank us. We are just doing what is right.." Hoseok bows his head slightly in return.

His eyes fall to the cowering toddler as he lifted his head, spotting him peaking around his mother. Hoseok smiles at him warmly.

"How can men as noble and kind as the two of you...be under the command of such a tyrant? We believed Prince Yoongi to be as just as his father. Why has he forsaken his people with such violence? He hasn't even assumed the throne yet..." the woman sniffles, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

Hoseok glances up at Namjoon with conflicted eyes. He returns his attention to the woman and her child, tilting his head when the boy makes eye contact.

Tentatively, he extends a hand to the boy, smiling brightly when the toddler wraps his stout little hand around Hoseoks middle and forefinger.

"I'm very sorry for what happened. I hope this can cover the damages to your cart and bring you some comfort during these trying times. Take care...."

Hoseok turns away from the woman, pulling away from the child abruptly to tap Namjoon.

"Done?" Namjoon inquires and Hoseok nods stiffly. His response is confirmed when they hear they motherly tone of the woman speaking to her son and telling him that it was time to go home.

She sighs as she turns her wheeled cart upright and quickly collects what she could of the broken ceramics and begins pushing her mobile store up the path and in the opposite direction of the palace.

A small smile touches Yoongi's lips as he watched her pass Si-Hyuk's counter before lowered his hat to continue working on the fish.

"I don't know how much more I can take of this..." Hoseok murmurs to his captain as they watched the woman wheel her small cart away from behind them.

"I'm not sure either...." Namjoon watches as the small boy shuffled away on bare feet behind his mother. Namjoon turns away to take a few steps in the direction from which they can and Hoseok follows.

Yoongi sags with relief as they began to leave.

"..But we don't have any choice. We have to honor the laws of the throne. Whether we agree with them or not." he continues and Hoseok stops.

"I'm not talking about the laws Namjoon..." he says emphatically.

Hoseok glances around before leaning in to whisper to Namjoon.

"I would be stating it far too plainly in saying that the prince is not the man we grew to know. Ever since Yonghwan's death its as if..."

"As if?" Namjoon rears his head back.

"As if he became him...Yoongi would never be this cruel towards his own people...He would never..." Hoseok pauses when Namjoon yanks him by the wrist, pulling him into an empty alley between vender lots and shoving Hoseok back against the wall.

"Are you crazy? Why would you say something like that out loud?" Namjoon hisses. Hoseok shrugs Namjoons firm hand from his shoulder and scoffs.

"I'm not the only one who feels this way! Several members of the court and the guard know something is amiss...It's only a matter of time before the King realizes..."

"Even so...." Namjoon interrupts.

"None of you should be foolish enough to speak of it aloud. You should be grateful you're speaking to me about this. You should be grateful for our friendship. Anyone else would be reporting you and you'd be charged with treason!"

Hoseok scoffs even harder, rolling his eyes as he gazed towards the mouth of the alley. A farmer strolls past with some of his livestock, the bell of an ox chiming from where it hung from its bronzed saggy skin of hits neck. Hoseok winced his features at the sight of how skinny and emaciated the ox was.

"What does it matter? We're already betraying Holangi by doing what we're doing. Punishing the poor. Drowning out all traces of free will...killing innocent people. And for what? Another war is coming Namjoon." Hoseok leans up from the wall, coming eye to eye with Namjoons stiff expression.

" And I'm not sure the lines of allegiance will be drawn easily or within our favor, my friend.."

Namjoon stares into Hoseoks eyes for a moment, weighing the conviction of his words and sighing when he finds them stemming from a true place of pain deep within his soul.

Namjoon and Hoseok had grown up together, along with Yoongi. So if there were people who were truly heartbroken by what was becoming of who they believed to be their friend and their home, they were near the top of that list.

He sighs when he noticed Hoseok stifling his emotions, his quivering lip, and his jaw clenching. Namjoon places a gentle hand at his shoulder to gain his attention.

"We have to have faith Hoseok. Change is on the horizon. I have to believe that to keep going on...Now let's go. The guard is probably awaiting our return."

Namjoon tilts his head towards the main path and Hoseok nods, waiting to sniffle until after Namjoon turns his back.

As the two step back onto the crowded path, Hoseok glanced back to scan the bustling marketplace with casual eyes. The woman and her son appeared to be long gone and business was conducted as usual.

Just as he's about to turn and follow Namjoons lead, something compels his gaze over to the fishmonger's lot.

His spine stiffens when he notices the form of a man who'd stepped from behind a fishmongers lot to place freshly filleted fish on display, his head downcast under the shade of his bamboo conical hat. He couldn't see his face, only his jawline and a portion of his profile.

Something about the man was familiar, but Hoseok couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He thinks nothing further of the man as he's reminded of his orders to return to the palace. He's just about to turn away when suddenly...

"STOP!! Thief!!!"

The shrill voice of a vendor screams over the noises of the market as a small masked man with a sack of rice tucked beneath his arm shoved his way through the crowd.

"Someone stop him!!!"  The vendor yells again just as the thief neared Si-Hyuk's lot. Yoongi was just about to return to his work station when he spots the thief bounding towards him, knocking people over as he went.

Women, children, elderly. The thief was ruthless and disruptive. The blatant disrespect and dishonor reignite rage in Yoongi's belly at the sight of him approaching.

Instinctively Yoongi stepped back, crossing the thief's path just in time to grab him by the collar. He then yanks him back and twists his arm back between his shoulder blades and kicks at the bends of his knees to force him to kneel. When he tries to resist, Yoongi sends three quick and calculated jabs into the boy's spine.

"Ah!!" The thief shrieks at the pain, his knees buckling into the dirt.

"Drop it.." Yoongi's voice is cold and menacing, laced with a growl that has the amateur criminal dropping the large sack of rice immediately.

Several people gasp and applaud at Yoongi's quick and heroic actions.

The crowd parts slightly to make way for the hefty rice seller to come jogging through, his face red with exhaustion. When he notices the thief face down in the dirt with Yoongi's knee in his back, the vendor's eyes brighten.

" Aigoo...Si-Hyukssi, you have taught your boy well! Pay him extra!" the rice vendor claps enthusiastically as he approached.

Si-Hyuk rounds the counter of his lot, having just noticed Yoongi's act and his brow creases with pride.

Then worry.

He nods at the rice vendor with a flat smile.

"..yes...perhaps I should.." he says, catching the slight blush of embarrassment in Yoongi's skin as he kept his head low.

Although what Yoongi did was indeed noble and heroic, he did not intend on making a spectacle of himself. No one in the village knew him beyond being the quiet fishmongers assistant. He never spoke to anyone. He never interacted with customers or other vendors. Only Si-Hyuk and on occasion Seokjin to remain a low profile.

This was unwanted attention.

The stout rice salesman smacks Yoongi's shoulder appreciatively as he kneeled to retrieve his merchandise, dusting a small cloud of dirt in the thief's face as he stood up.

Yoongi nods and gives the vendor a small smile before ripping a strip of cloth from the thief's shirt to bound his wrists.

Many people continue walking by, sending Yoongi brief praises as they passed. Yoongi did his best in acknowledging them without looking up and showing his face. Until...

"Wow!.."

Yoongi is barely aware of Hoseoks presence as he completed the knot on the thief's wrists, keeping his eyes too low to see the hem of the royal guards uniform coming into view.

"I've never seen a civilian do that before. You must have received training...Here, let me. We can take him.." Hoseok says brightly as he kneeled to pull the young thief to his feet.

Without thinking, Yoongi glances up with wide eyes at Hoseok, taking a step back from the apprehended and blanching with realization.

The moment the two make eye contact, Yoongi lowers his head and turns to fall into the crowd behind him. He disappears under the cloak of the common people, hoping to have evaded Hoseok's sharp gaze as he fled.

But it was too late.

He'd already been seen.

Hoseok stood frozen as he watched Yoongi vanish among the sea of commoners, his eyes wide and his heart racing at what he'd just seen.

"....Yoongi?"

[writing-for-life]

Time for the daily roundup. Thank you everyone who has voted and reblogged so far, especially

@marlowe-zara for giving her vote to consistent(ly hot) Dream

@orionsangel86 for trying to walk the line between spooky and sexy but failing while not feeling particularly sorry about it

@bobbole for leaning into the jaunty and vaguely surreal

@tickldpnk8 for the valiant effort of making us understand how amazing Jones is (and then stabbing him in the back and voting for McManus’ sexy man regardless)

@missingrache for showing the love to Jones’ drowned cryptid Dream

And a not very serious piece by yours truly @writing-for-life about Thirst-Trap Dream Superiority, raised eyebrows, bare chests and butt cheeks. Followed by a cold shower with my offering of flat noses, underbites and a Thessaly meta.

If you’d like your contribution added to the roundup, let us know who you love most and post your favourite art or thoughts. It doesn’t have to be much: a favourite panel, a depiction of a character other than Dream, a different work of art or a short thought is enough.

So far, the thirst-trap guy is bagging it, but

Remember, you still have until 6pm/London today to cast your vote before the next pairing lands.

Round One/4, Poll

Shawn McManus, artist #36

VS.

Kelley Jones, penciller #22

Two artists who both illustrated big, memorable arcs and gave us two of the probably most iconic panels. While McManus’ portrayal of Morpheus is fairly consistent, Jones gives us “Dream of a thousand faces”—often to the extent that you wonder if he has been drawn by the same artist. That’s why we really recommend you check in on their work again before you make your choice:

Shawn McManus: Fables and Reflections #31, A Game of You #32-33 and #35-37

Kelley Jones: Dream Country #17-18, Season of Mists #22-24 and #26-27

And remember, you are voting for your favourite version of Dream, not the particular storyline.

Who is your favourite and why? Let us know in the comments/reblogs. Share your thoughts about their art, your favourite panels from their issues, or even other art they created and help us turn this into an artist appreciation post.

Here’s the poll to vote for your favourite if you want to see them again (you can find the whole bracket here, and feel free to check out previous matches via the tag #sandman march mania):

Event organisers: @writing-for-life and @tickldpnk8 (who also designed the logo)

[dourpeep]

Midnight Reprieve

Remember how I was rejoicing because it was only 700 words?? (‘: it’s over 1.1k (sob sob)

inspired by @ameliahotson 's contribution to my earlier thirst dfheifahfe (thank you)

Summary: There’s nothing quite like stress relief.

Contains: ((NSFW +18)) Dom!Xiao x gn!Reader, rough sex, messy blowjob, dacryphilia, blood mention, light corruption kink (?), cumshot//facial, aftercare

It’s the sound of labored breathing and light, barely there steps that wakes you. It seems you’ve fallen asleep waiting for him tonight.

Eyes bleary, you sit up and mumble a greeting only to find yourself lying back on the bed, nude body pressed to the forgiving surface by the yaksha above.

Rather than a soft look, he regards you beneath him, chest rising and falling with each breath. His thumb catches on your bottom lip and you faintly taste blood. The silence of the inn tells you it’s long since the patrons have fallen asleep, Xiao’s disarray showing he’d only just returned from a long night of fighting demons. He looks like he should be exhausted, yet with skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat, he exudes power.

The intensity of his eyes…

The sight alone brings your attention to the desire coiling within you.

His thumb slips into your mouth and you close your lips around it, sucking the digit.

You’re sure he can feel the way your body shifts beneath him in attempt to relieve the warmth between your thighs. That he can smell the tell-tale sign of your arousal.

“Xiao-“ You moan, muffled, and he sucks in a breath.

Without missing a beat, he pulls away and sheds himself of his clothing. Pupils blown, he watches while you settle yourself, sitting on a pillow on the floor between his spread legs.

You shuffle a bit and he tries to be patient.

As soon as you lean to touch your lips to his tip, his hand cups the back of your head and makes you take it fully. He shudders at the sound of your surprise and rolls his hips up against your lips.

All of this is for him. His. You’re his.

Your pretty moans vibrate along his cock, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—he tugs your hair and makes you look him in the eyes so he can watch the way they fall down your full cheeks. You struggle to pleasure him, tongue trapped flat against the bottom of your mouth.

When you swallow around him, he pulls out with a satisfied sigh.

Taking himself in his free hand, he strokes once before swiping the tip over your still-open lips. Your tongue darts out to sweetly lick at it and he growls. So cute, the way you mouth at his cock and whimper for more. To see your wide eyes looking up at him with affection and need despite the way he smears precum over your cheek and chin.

Once more your mouth is stuffed with him and he relishes in the way you sob.

Xiao buries himself fully, focused on the way your nose presses to his skin, and caresses your cheek before starting a brutal pace. His eyes close as the feel of you takes over his senses. Every touch of your tongue, every time your cheeks hollow as he pulls out, he’s captivated and the fire burning drives him further.

He slips out of your warm, wet mouth, admiring the way that your spit seems to cling to his tip and carefully connect back to your tongue.

Drool covers your chin and marks you naked chest. Lips ruddied and well-fucked, eyes watery and bleary (though now for an entirely different reason)—you make his lungs fail and heart stutter. A feeling deep in his chest purrs at the sight before him.

A part of him aches to see how you’d react to his praise, spread so nicely beneath him, so ready and eager.

The needy whine that leaves you as he stands doesn’t escape his mind. He picks you up and tosses you onto the bed, your head hanging off the end and mouth open in surprise. Fondly, he takes in this new image of you.

Your ruined image just waiting to be corrupted further.

Licking your lips, your eyes flutter shut when he places a warm palm on your cheek, swiping a bit of the spit and smearing it over your jaw.

However, the hand touching your cheek shifts and trails over the curve of your neck.

“Open.”

In the moment it takes for you to part your lips again, his hips shove his cock back down your throat.

He is relentless with his thrusts, fucking moans from your lips as if he were still in the marsh. Yet the waves coming off him weren’t that of his karmic debt, and the wetness that covered his skin wasn’t the chilled waters below. You take it all, fresh tears beading at the corners of your eyes and creating streams that joined at your hairline.

Every thrust, he felt himself brush over your warm tongue and felt his sensitive tip slip deep within your mouth. Each thrust paired with the sweet sensation of you gagging around him, throat clenching and fluttering around his shaft.

Xiao bends over your head, resting his forehead on your chest and grasping at the bedsheets.

His hips continue to pound into you, making your jaw ache and stretch deliciously to make room for him and each time his cock hits the back of your throat he has to battle the temptation to press further, to make you sob and grab at his arms. The thought of you so desperate draws his hips away only to slam back.

His orgasm hits him suddenly, knees bucking and body trembling through its intensity. Between your lips he releases, spurting thick and hot down your throat. The feel of your hand squeezing his is just enough for him to pull out of you, tongue coated with his cum. A few more ropes decorate your lips and mingles with the sweat soaking your skin.

When he finally stands up with hands propped on the bed beside your head, his hazy vision stays on the way you try to catch the milky white painting your lips with your tongue.

Another shudder of pleasure shoots through him and he closes his eyes.

It takes a moment for him to regather his wits, to take a wetted cloth and very carefully clean the various fluids that covered you. He does so in silence, listening to your ragged breaths.

Once you’re clean and dried, he cups the back of your head with one hand. The other supports you while he adjusts your position on the bed to lay down with your head on a soft pillow. His heart skips a beat when your eyes meet and your expression is filled with so much love.

“Was that—”

His hushed words are interrupted by your nod. Instead of continuing, he leans close to breath you in, lips pressing to your forehead.

“Good.”

Xiao shifts, scooting off the bed to properly put the soiled cloth away, yet the feel of your fingers loosely wrapped around his wrists stops him. The cloth instead finds a temporary home on the side table.

He settles in bed, the sheets cool against his bare skin contrasting your warmth. With you curled up against him, he closes his eyes and dozes off.

[jackrrabbit]

Short Leash /// Lev x f!Reader x Alisa (18+)

Summary: [Post-timeskip] The Haiba siblings get up to no good with their favorite pet.

A/N: Lev really went from skinny goblin to sugar папочка, and don’t even get me started on Alisa 😭 Also, imma lay heavy on those Russian terms of endearment 🇷🇺 I know Lev doesn’t speak Russian but I feel like post-timeskip he might, and it makes me horny so…

Dedicated to my eternal muse @koiibito​ for thirsting with me and stoking my lust for this duo and to @thisisthehardestthing​ for providing the fashion references that brought this fic to life for me (although I still can’t describe clothing for shit). Thank you!!!

Tags/warnings: (slight) pet play, threesome, alcohol/drug use mentions, size kink (yk Lev is 6’5 and Alisa is 5’10), dom/sub, orgasm control, rough sex, filming, breath play, crying, reader is a sugar baby in denial, no incest but the siblings fuck you together, yandere-ish, established BDSM relationship, all characters are adults

They like playing dress-up.

With you, if that wasn’t obvious. They’re models, so you could say that playing dress-up is a career for them, a method of putting food on the table…and Balenciaga in the closet…and every luxury pharmaceutical known to man in the medicine cabinet. And they’re so beautiful, both of them. They look good in anything. But when it comes to you, playing dress-up is a labor of love.

Today was Alisa’s turn, which means today was red: crimson lingerie in a box she had delivered to you before the party tonight. The box…it looked so out of place propped up against the bottom of your shabby apartment door that it’s a miracle no one stole it. Black packaging, lettering in gold, and the label printed on the box was French, you think? The two years of language class you took in high school didn’t help you read it, but you had no trouble understanding the number at the bottom of the receipt Alisa included with the set.

She left it on purpose, you know that. She wants you to know that the money she dropped on these flimsy little undergarments could have paid your rent for two months. But you can’t tell her that, or she’ll just insist again that your apartment is so small and ugly, it’s not worth it, it’s high time you moved in with her and Lev already, they would love to have you, and you’d never have to worry about rent again.

Spoiling you. That’s what they call it. Sometimes you think the Haiba siblings spoil you because they know it makes you uncomfortable.

Either way, you can’t say no. You’ve tried, over and over, told them they need to stop buying you clothes and shoes and diamonds but they just laugh you off. Lev, especially—he’s got this way of tipping his head to the side and blinking down at you while you try to explain how nervous it makes you to be dripping in excess, smiling lightly like he’s watching a child throw a tantrum. They just don’t get it. Or they do, and they think it’s funny.

Yeah, it’s probably the latter. You were raised right, raised not to accept gifts like this when you have nothing to give in return—but you were also raised to be gracious to the kindness of strangers, and while they aren’t exactly strangers, it’s just too exhausting to try to deny their generosity. Over time, little by little, you’ve given inches and the Haiba siblings have taken miles.

The Haiba siblings. That’s who they are, constantly presented in juxtaposition since Lev made his debut. They were born for this, and not because of their height. It’s the eyes—something savagely beautiful about that shade of green, those pale eyelashes, the slitted pupils like a cat’s.

The lingerie was Alisa’s choice, but the dress was Lev’s which is probably why he can’t keep his hands off you at the party, grip gliding down the low back and breath ghosting over your neck every time you try to put some distance between you. He’s usually more careful than this—Alisa can get away with the playful touching (groping?) because the cameras will just play it off as friendly skinship, but if someone catches Lev stroking across your thighs or tracing those long fingers over your spine while you move together on the dance floor, there’s going to be trouble. Not that it’s your problem, but one of you has to be responsible tonight, and judging by the number of times Lev’s excused himself to go to the bathroom and come back blinking and grinning and rubbing his nose, the responsible one is going to have to be you.

This time when he returns his gelled-back hair is mussed and—Jesus, how careless can he get?—there’s a little dusting of coke spilled over the collar of his black shirt. You roll your eyes and reach up to brush it off for him but he catches your hand and lifts it to his mouth. A kiss on your inner wrist first, and then his teeth are grazing over that tender skin, blunt edges digging in and drawing dents. A bite.

It’s just on the edge of painful when you belatedly yank your hand away. “Lev—you got it on your shirt, seriously—“ You try to make your voice sound scolding, but it comes out too high.

Lev’s eyes are dark, dilated; he laughs breathlessly and nudges closer to you, trapping you between his long arms and the bar. “You want some? Kotyonok, little kitten wants a treat?”

“No…I’m just drinking tonight. I don’t want to be out too late.” The vodka soda in your hand isn’t nearly strong enough, but if you have any more you’re going to be too drunk to keep your act together and deal with their antics. You don’t have the tolerance they do, and just because they can get away with all the coke and the alcohol and whatever else they’ve been playing with tonight doesn’t mean you can.

…Not that your relative sobriety stops Lev from dragging your face up to meet his, lifting your chin with both hands wrapped around the back of your head and bending down only enough that you still have to rise up on your tiptoes to kiss him. You only catch a hint of the smell of honey before the sour-sweet taste of Lev’s favorite drink (that medovukha mead stuff, it’s Russian, you think) is filling your mouth and his long tongue is sliding over yours. “Mmph—“

“Kitten, always so good,” he sighs, pressing closer so your face has to arch up to the ceiling to meet his. In your limited view you can see the muscles in his jaw flexing as he kisses you, sweeping over your tongue, biting your lip and laughing into your mouth. “So sweet…and impatient, yeah? Want to go home with us already?”

His hand on the small of your back is bunching your dress up, giving him the space to push his knee between your legs. You gasp sharply but it just eggs him on and his mouth dips down under your jawline, his body covering yours, so sudden and so public that your eyes flash around the room, wondering who might witness Lev—the international model Lev Haiba—sucking on your throat. “L-Lev, wait, someone—someone will see—“

“You’re asking to go somewhere private? Greedy girl…Alisa’s still having fun.”

You try to come up with a response, but it’s not easy to think straight when he’s holding your waist, circling it with those big hands and petting up to your ribs, cupping your tits while his thigh rubs between your legs. You can smell his cologne, bergamot and amber, and—and—you can smell his cologne—

“Lyovochka~” Alisa’s voice rings out and you know just by hearing it that she’s had as much as Lev. Her hand fists in her brother’s hair and pulls him off your neck none too gently, ignoring his curse and complaints. “Naughty, naughty. Playing without me, were you?”

“Alisa, you’re fucking up my hair,” Lev whines, but he straightens off you, pulling Alisa into your tight little trio at the bar. “Kitty says she wants us to take her home.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and wonder if they can see the blush under your foundation. “I didn’t— I can go home myself—“ Not that you have a chance in hell of leaving the party without them, but still. You can pretend to play coy.

“No.” Alisa places a finger on your mouth to shush you and then her eyes lower and her fingernail—painted silvery white, her signature color—pushes into your bottom lip. You stumble closer, hands meeting her shoulders through the thick white padding of the jacket she’s wearing, over the glittering crystals that look blindingly bright under the blacklights.

Silver and white. Always silver and white.

Her fingernail traces down your lip, drawing a fine line on your chin; on instinct, you tip your head back to give her access to pet down your throat until she comes to a rest on the neckpiece of the harness she included with the lingerie set. When her hand reaches the ring in the center of the choker she grips it, pulling your face away from Lev’s and toward hers. “Lyovochka, what do you think…? I saw it and thought of kotyonok. A collar for our little kitten.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I need to see more.” Lev’s hands are on you again now, splaying flat over your chest before his fingers curl, one by one, around the harness strap that leads from the ring at the choker down between your breasts until it disappears under the neckline of your dress. He’s tugging on it—lightly, but you can’t deny the feeling that it’s like a leash…or the feeling of heat gathering in your pussy at having the two of them all over you like this.

You shouldn’t be letting them touch you (and they are touching you, Alisa’s hand stroking your throat and Lev tugging your side into his chest). There’s always people watching at parties like this; you’ve attended these things on Lev’s arm or Alisa’s enough times to know better than to let them do as they please. You’re supposed to be the responsible one. Too bad your body is craving a lot more than the innocuous touches they can give you in public.

You swallow and Alisa grins, dark-painted lips stretching over those perfect white teeth. “So. Kitten, would you like us to take you home? Say please.”

You don’t have to say it. You could ask yourself why you let them get away with this, why you keep letting yourself fall to the mercy of these siblings, why they even want you in the first place, but those are questions for tomorrow morning—tonight, even though you should hate it, there’s a part of you that wants to purr every time they call you kitten.

“…Please,” you murmur, and as soon as the word is out Lev’s grip on the harness tightens, pulling the choker taut around your neck.

///

They end up ripping the dress.

You kind of hate them for it when you think about how many bills you could have paid with the money they spent dolling you up for tonight. But by the time they get around to it, you’re pretty much too horny to care.

They didn’t even wait til you got home (their home, you remind yourself, not yours), although that shouldn’t have surprised you. From Alisa tugging on your hair and Lev’s arm draped possessively around your shoulders, you should’ve seen it coming, but it still takes you by surprise that the three of you have barely piled in the back of the Uber when Alisa’s dragging you to sit on her thigh, unceremoniously pulling your dress over your hips and sliding her hand up the slit where the fabric falls open to rub your pussy.

You whine and squirm but can’t quite make yourself say the word “no”, instead squeezing your eyes shut and trying to focus on Alisa whispering in your ear that you’re a good girl, getting so wet for them. All three of you can hear the squishy damp noises your pussy is making sucking around her fingers, and dear god you hope the driver can’t hear it too—wait, is he looking? Your eyes peek open, traitorously seeking out the rearview to see if there’s a possibility he’s watching the show, but before you can work up the guts to tell them to quit it, Lev’s hand is folding around your jaw again and forcing two of his fingers past your lips for you to drool on. And—fuck—Alisa’s petting over your cunt, drawing slow lines up from the wetness gathered at your hole up to your clit.

By the time you’ve reached the building Lev and Alisa are staying at in Tokyo, you’re past the point of caring that other people are around. Lev has to pull you out of the car and off Alisa’s lap to get you to stop humping your ass into her lap and trying to push your mound into her fingers. Alisa winks at the driver—probably earning herself a 5-star rating despite all your bad behavior—and then the two of them are steering you past the doorman and into the elevator.

As soon as you’ve got the barest semblance of privacy, Lev pulls your back into his chest and grinds himself into you. You can feel how hard he is, the heat of his body leaching through the fabric of your clothing directly into your skin, hands around your waist forcing you to mold yourself into him while he layers kisses over the side of you neck. “L-Lev, ah— mm, someone’s gonna come in,” you whine as he pushes the bulge of his stiff cock against your lower back, but he just lets one of his hands drift up to scratch at the choker of the harness again.

Alisa’s hands meet your cheeks on either side, framing your face for a short moment so she can study your dazed expression, the flush on your cheeks, your sex-glazed eyes. You look like you want to get fucked, you know that? You look like you want them to push you down in the elevator and fuck you right there. “But kotyonok, you’re so darling. We should let other people get a chance to see, no?”

Lev’s hand spans the breadth of your throat, not quite pressing down (yet), so he must be able to feel the way your muscles contract and release when you swallow—not to mention the edge of tension that enters your body at the thought of someone seeing you in such a compromising position. “Ahh, kitty wants to be all ours, doesn’t she? She doesn’t want us to share.”

“Is that so?” Alisa doesn’t give you a chance to answer, just tipping your face up and letting her lips close over yours. She tastes more bitter than Lev did and for the brief moment you have between getting pressed between them and your brain short-circuiting, you wonder what she’s been drinking. “Are you being selfish?”

“Nnnh, I—“ you don’t have an answer for her, but it doesn’t really matter because the elevator is dinging at the penthouse and Alisa’s pulling you away from Lev into their apartment by the center strap of the harness. You’ve got no choice but to follow, and you consider telling her to quit dragging you around by your neck but there’s something about the pressure on your throat that isn’t…entirely unpleasant, so you hold your tongue.

Lev murmurs to Alisa in Russian—you hate when they do that, especially because you know they’re only doing it because they don’t want you to understand—and then you’re in the spare bedroom, the one that the siblings insist on referring to as your bedroom. Even though you don’t live here. Even though you do everything you can to avoid staying here. Even though the only times you ever spend the night are when you’re too fucked-out by the two of them to consider putting in the effort to get home.

Something tells you this is going to be one of those nights.

They work in sync, teasing down the straps of your dress and easing you out of it until Alisa snaps the harness between your tits and Lev gets impatient and someone pulls the back of the dress a little too hard and that’s when you feel tearing. “Shit,” you hear in Lev’s voice, a soft curse in Russian from Alisa, and then a reluctant peal of laughter as the dress flutters down to the ground.

“Did you—“ You’re about to curse them out for ruining something so fucking expensive, but Lev clucks his tongue and shakes his head and you fall silent. He’s pulling back from you—so is Alisa—and your heart jumps for a second wondering if you did something wrong until you realize they’re just looking at you, drinking in the image of you naked except for the lingerie Alisa picked out for you.

“Bordelle?” Lev murmurs, running fingers down the straps cinching around your waist, the belt holding up the garters—as usual, you don’t know whether to move away from his touch or melt into it.

Alisa smiles. “It was made for her, don’t you think? Our kitten looks good in red.”

Honestly, they call you kitten, but the way they look at you is less like the way owners look at a pet and more like wolves sizing up a little lamb they’ve cornered. Hungry. Starving. You’re not sure which you prefer, but it makes you self-conscious. You’d felt pretty confident about the way you looked when you examined yourself in the mirror before the party—Alisa has good taste, even if the lingerie is just this side of bondage gear and not something you would’ve bought for yourself in a million years—but now you have to fight the urge to cover yourself up with your hands…not that they’d let you.

True to your prediction, as soon as your hand twitches with the instinct to cross your arms over your bound-up tits Lev snaps down to catch it. “Let me see,” he instructs, and the authority in his voice is so definite that your arms fall back down to your sides automatically. “Good girl. Alisa, do you think we can keep it on while we fuck her?”

While we fuck her.

He says it so nonchalantly. And it’s not like you didn’t know that’s what you’re here for. You’re a grown-up, you’re sober (ish), and you’ve been in this room with the two of them enough times that you’re well aware there was only ever one way this night was going to end up. But the way he says it makes you shiver. They’re going to fuck you…like they own you. And it’s kind of terrifying how much you want to be owned.

“I think we can get the panties off without taking off the rest,” Alisa says to respond to Lev’s question, even as she brushes a stray lock of hair away from your eyes. “Besides, I have a surprise for her.”

A surprise? It wouldn’t be the first time one of them has pulled out something unexpected in bed—last time it was a ball gag and nipple clamps, and the time before that it was a magic wand vibrator (plated in literal gold, because the Haibas are nothing if not excessive) that had you begging and crying and creaming all over the sheets. You can’t help your anxiousness as Alisa pulls something out of the otherwise-empty dresser and sets it up to face the bed.

It’s…a camera. A camera? “You want to film it?” you blurt out, your voice sounding pitchy and nervous even to your own ears.

“Great idea,” Lev says, patting your head like that’s all it’ll take to make you feel better.

“Yes, kotyonok. I’m going to film you,” Alisa replies, fiddling with the settings and batting those long blonde eyelashes at the lens once she’s satisfied.

“Wait, I—I don’t know. I’m not like you, I can’t just—” you stammer. Sure, the twins will look perfect and irresistible and bewitching, but you? You’re not sure you want to have a video of yourself getting fucked stupid in their hands. “What if I don’t want to…?”

“But I want to.” Alisa’s gaze sweeps down over you and you lower your eyes so you don’t have to meet it, don’t have to feel the weight of it holding you down more securely than any leash. There’s a reason she’s a model—she could sell anything. Those eyes. How are you supposed to say no?

You want to step back away from her. You almost try, but Lev’s at your back already, long arms draped over your shoulders, a loose hold that nonetheless keeps you from moving. So instead of backing up, you just bite your lip.

Alisa’s face softens—she’s good at that, good at picking up the cues when she’s pushed a little too far for your comfort—and a second later you feel her hand wrapping around yours, holding it. “Safeword?”

Cherry. The safeword is cherry. It’s not that you’ve forgotten. It’s her way of reminding you that you have a safeword, and you can use it, and it’ll be okay. This isn’t even a full-on scene, but Alisa must be able to sense that the addition of the camera made you scared.

Picking up the change in mood a second later, Lev’s hand finds your other one and he strokes his thumb over your skin reassuringly. God, maybe it’s wrong that they can make you feel hunted one second and adored the next, but you let out a breath and relax, shaking your head to indicate that you’re not stopping.

She brings your hand up to her mouth and kisses it so lightly her lipstick barely leaves a mark—wait, oops. You’d forgotten she was wearing lipstick. You must have it all over you by now.

“Good girl. We take good care of you, don’t we?”

“…Yes.”

“We do.” Lev’s impatient, you can tell from the way he’s adjusting his grip to your waist and pushing you over to the bed. “We’re not going to share the video, if that’s what you’re worried about. Alisa likes to joke, but really…”

Your ass hits the mattress so you’re half-sitting, half-lying on the covers, propped up on your elbows, peeking through your eyelashes at the two of them looming over you—and, oh, there they are again.

The wolves.

“…we don’t want anyone else seeing you like this,” Alisa finishes, holding up the camera and flicking the little red light on to record.

///

Lev starts, like usual. You think maybe it’s a control thing, that Alisa doesn’t let you touch her until you’re already falling apart on Lev’s fingers, his tongue…his cock. As much as she likes it when you bite back, you’re cuter when you’re begging.

She’s holding your face off the bed by a hand under your chin, wrenching your neck back so your wrecked face is level with the camera. You’re on your hands and knees—or, more accurately, your hands and elbows, with your ass arched up and Lev’s face buried in your slit. “Nngh, nnnnn, fuck please please—“ Your whining is barely coherent, but Lev knows what you’re asking for and he digs his fingers into the meat of your ass to hold you still as he latches his mouth over your clit and sucks.

Fuck— you keen and try to drop your head down to the sheets to angle your dripping cunny closer to his mouth, but Alisa’s grip on your jaw prevents you from getting any further out of the camera frame. “Uh-uh, no. I want to see you.”

“Alisa…ahhh…” Your tongue is lolling out of your mouth and you know you must look like a mess, spit practically falling over your lips as you try to stop yourself from cumming right here. Fuck, it feels good, feels so hot and wet that your juices don’t even have time to cool on your thighs before more is dripping down.

“Tell the camera what’s happening, kotyonok,” Alisa purrs, wiping the saliva off your lip and then pushing her fingers over your tongue.

“…eating me out, he’s—uhhhn—licking my pussy…” you slur around her fingers. Your glassy eyes flit between her appraising expression and the lens of the camera—even though you trust that they won’t show the video to anyone outside this room, it’s making you shudder to think about what’s on the little screen you can’t see—Alisa’s pretty silver fingernails coated in your drool as she presses them deeper into your throat, your body all bound up in red straps and gold fastenings, and Lev behind you, hair falling out of its careful style as he shoves his face deeper between your legs.

The edge of Alisa’s finger bites into the plush of your lip as you moan and unsuccessfully attempt to wriggle your ass under Lev’s grip. “Who’s licking your pussy?” she asks calmly, like she’s asking what the weather is like today.

“Lev, it’s, it’s Lev—fuck ohh, oh,” you whine as Lev slides his tongue flat from your clit up to your hole and pushes the slimy wet muscle inside. It’s so long, you’re never going to get used to how stupid long his tongue is, licking out your walls and making slurping sounds that are downright fucking vile.

Heat is gathering quickly in your abdomen, and you can feel it—that plateau rising before you hit your peak, and the tension in your thighs making them twitch and quiver as your muscles contract in anticipation—and his tongue is so long and thick it’s almost reaching your g-spot, almostalmostalmost, god-fucking-damnit. Your spine curls even further, arching yourself into him, wordlessly begging for him to keep doing exactly what he’s doing. “Gonna cum, fuck Lev please make me, make me cum!”

“Oh? Did I say you were allowed to cum?” Alisa asks, cat-like eyes narrowing.

Shit, fuck, she didn’t, but you don’t know if you can help yourself. Your hand fists in the sheet, curling your fingernails around the fabric to try to ease up the heat where Lev’s mouth is latched to your cunt. “Please Alisa—I need to—“

Alisa shakes her head. “But you don’t get to decide what you need, kotyonok.”

She’s right, but—but, it’s not fair, Lev’s switching between dragging his tongue over your clit and fucking you with it—you try to pull your hips away from his mouth but he doesn’t let you, effortlessly holding you in place while he teases you even higher.

“Who decides?” she continues, petting your jawline and wiping away the first hint of a tear from your cheek as you try to hold it back—

but you can’t.

“You-you decide! You decide when I cum!” you gasp, but your body is already betraying your words, convulsing and contracting as your climax hits you like a truck. You try to hold yourself through it but it’s impossible—your eyes roll back and arms go slack, dropping flat on the bedspread with your ass still pushed up into the air as your pussy walls contract around Lev’s tongue.

He’s still licking you—slower now at least, but you’re shaking at the feeling of him stimulating that sensitive bud. “Stop…too much,” you whine weakly, but he just raises a hand off your ass cheek to give it a light smack.

“Bad kitty,” he murmurs with his mouth still pressed against your slit, and the contact makes you seize up and twitch.

“Yes. Very bad.” Alisa doesn’t look angry—she’s never angry with you, even when you’re…disobedient, you guess—but there’s a note of mischief in her eyes that sends a thrill of fear (and not just fear) down your spine.

“S-Sorry, I’m sorry,” you whimper, but Alisa’s already pulling you upright by the ring on your choker.

“Did you cum? Even though we didn’t give you permission?” she asks, even though all three of you know you did. You nod, avoiding looking at both her and the camera as if that’ll disguise the obvious flush painting your cheeks red. At your admission, she smiles indulgently and murmurs something in Russian that you don’t understand, but you get the gist.

You’ve been naughty. And you’re going to get punished.

You hear the bedsprings squeak and feel the dip of the mattress as Lev climbs up behind you, settling his body against yours so the bulge in his pants is pressed against your back again. He’s still wearing most of his outfit from the party—they both are, and you note (not for the first time) how ridiculous it is that the siblings are willing to fuck you together but being naked in front of one another is the one boundary they won’t cross—but you don’t have to wait long before you hear him undoing his pants and pulling his cock out to rut it lazily against your back.

Automatically you shift your legs apart and reach down to finger yourself like you usually do, stretch your cunt out so you’re ready to take him. But before you can reach your pussy, Lev’s hand is folding over yours and lacing his fingers over your hand to stop you. “L-Lev?”

“No, kitty,” he tells you firmly.

You shiver. Alisa pinches your cheek and rubs over your ear. “What…”

“You already came,” Lev continues, and then you feel his cock sliding between your thighs, between your soaking-wet lips, using your cum as lubrication. “You came, so you don’t need to get ready. You’re going to take all of me, okay?”

All of him. You swallow. The full length slowly rubbing between your legs is going to go inside of you, without any preparation beforehand. “But…if I don’t, it’ll—it’s gonna hurt…”

“Yes, it’s going to hurt.” He waits for a moment, giving you a chance to say the safeword, but you don’t. “It’s going to hurt, and then it’ll feel good, and then you’re going to cream yourself on my cock like always. Yes?”

“Uh—“ You blink rapidly, already feeling his cockhead pushing between your lips toward your hole. Alisa combs your hair out of your face and you turn toward her. “Alisa?”

“Don’t ask her. You need to learn that your owners will take care of you. You need to trust us.” Lev presses in, stretching your little cunt around the thick head, and you suck in a sharp inhale.

“A-Ah—it’s too big,” you whine, scrunching your eyes shut and biting your lip as he slides himself deeper into you. And yeah, it hurts…but with how riled up you are, it definitely doesn’t hurt enough for you to want it to stop. The burn from the stretch is just making you wetter, and the feeling of being filled up by him is unbelievable. This was supposed to be a punishment, right?

Alisa cups your face to kiss you gently, and then her hands drift lower to circle your neck. Lev’s still sliding his cock into your pussy, slowly, slowly, so you can feel everything, every inch of his skin and every vein dragging against your g-spot. The deeper he gets, the more it hurts and the more you want to stop him, to take the lead—but he doesn’t let you.

“Are you going to cry, kitten?” Alisa asks you, reaching down to take one of your hands and pull it over her shoulder so you’re holding her. You grit your teeth and shudder and shake your head, making her lips quirk into a smile. “It’s alright if you cry. You’re still cute when you’re crying.”

With another roll of his hips Lev’s pushing up against your cervix and you choke out a curse. “F-Fuck, I’m not—not gonna c-c-cry…”

“Shh…” Upright on his knees behind you, Lev’s body is so big curled over yours that you feel smothered between him and Alisa. You sneak a glance back and there’s a pale pink flush over his cheeks and shoulders. “You’re taking me so well…taking my cock like that, going to make me forget you were bad…”

You stay still because it hurts more when you try to move, and you need to get yourself adjusted. You have to relax, you have to, but he’s so big, heavy and thick between your aching legs. You still haven’t recovered from cumming earlier, and every time one of the aftershocks hits you and you clench around him, the mix of pleasure and pain is almost too much. Even as aroused as you are, your cunt sucking him in for all you’re worth, he’s pushing against your cervix…and his hips haven’t even hit yours yet. He hasn’t bottomed out.

You’re going to take all of me, he said. You’re not even sure you can. But no matter what, you’re not—you’re not—gonna cry.

Until Lev pulls his hips back, sliding his cock out of you so it’s only his head sheathed at the entrance to your cunt, and then snaps forward again, filling you back up in a single stroke. He knocks into you so forcefully that you jerk forward, your chest mashing into Alisa’s. The force and his weight pulls a squeak out of you and—fuck, fuck—you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“—t-t-too fast,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut as if that’ll prevent them from getting glossy. The pads of Alisa’s fingers are skimming over your cheeks, and her skin is so soft and silky that you want to nuzzle in for comfort.

“But Kotyonok likes it fast, doesn’t she?…you feel how wet you are on my—my cock?” Lev’s face nudges against your shoulder, and you can feel his hands curling around your upper arms, securing you underneath him, holding you in place as he pounds into you.

You like it…like it fast? Your head is spinning, you’re dizzy and hot and feverish, Lev’s cologne is mixing with Alisa’s perfume and you feel like you’re drinking it, ugh. Fuck. Feels like you’re getting bruised up inside and it feels good. Your legs are jerking, weakly trying to push yourself back on his cock to make him fill you up deeper than your pussy can take but you’re totally at their mercy.

“Let her down, Lyovochka. I want kitty to lick,” Alisa says, looking over your shoulder to make eye contact with her brother. She shifts back on the bedspread, easing herself into the pillows and pushing the skirt of her dress up over her waist to expose her panties: mesh, lace, powder-pink. They’re so pretty against her pale skin that you just stare down at her for a second, open-mouthed, before Lev’s releasing his grip on your arms and splaying his palm into your back, shoving your face down toward her lap.

You catch yourself on your elbows—barely—but you don’t have time to adjust to the new position and how stupid fucking goddamn deep Lev’s cock is hitting you before Alisa’s pulling your face up closer to her clothed pussy and adjusting her thighs to make room. Is she going to keep the panties on? Fuck—you almost ask her to take them off but you know you aren’t allowed so you just angle your face in and let drool coat your tongue so you can try to lap at her pussy through the fabric.

The awkward angle means you can barely taste her, but fuck, what you can taste is so good—they’ve conditioned you, the two of them, conditioned you like Pavlov’s dogs to crave what they’re doing to you so badly you can’t even think. The slightly-bitter taste of her cunt soaking through to your mouth has you intoxicated. She got like this from watching you, watching you cum all over the pretty lingerie she bought you, watching you get fucked so hard you’re crying. The thought of her getting off on watching you squirm makes your pussy clench around Lev’s cock.

“Gonna cum again?” Lev asks with laughter in his voice; his pace slows, dragging out the stimulation to your g-spot right as you feel him reach down to tease over your clit. You squeak out a denial but he doesn’t believe you—and why would he when he can literally hear the nasty wet noises from your pussy eating up his cock? “Yes…you are."

“I’m—n-no, I’m noooot…”

“Poor baby, can’t control herself.” Alisa’s pushing you back into her cunt, fingernails scraping over your scalp as you desperately try to lick her pussy. “Don’t be cruel, Lev.”

Another laugh, low and raspy and juddering from the pace of his cock stretching your walls and pushing against that sweet spot inside you. “I’m not the cruel one.”

They’re both cruel, you think, but that’s the only thing going through your mind because you’re pretty sure you’re going to go fucking crazy, your pussy is so hot you feel like you’re melting around him but you keep at Alisa’s cunt because you want to be good, want to be their good girl, want to be their good little kitty.

You want to be theirs.

“Please—please, can I, can I? Please let me, please I need you to let me…” you beg—somewhere in the back of your mind you know you’re going to hate yourself for giving in to them tomorrow but you want it so so so bad and you can’t cum without their permission, you can’t, you can’t be bad again.

“Well…what do you think, Alisa? Has she earned it?” There’s a growl in Lev’s voice—is he holding himself back? Yesss… He’s slowing down, fucking you up from the inside and the outside, pulling that heat out of you, making you squeal and whine and plead just like he said he would.

You want to, you need to, need to earn it, be good make Alisa feel good earn it—fuck, you have to try harder, and you flutter your tongue over her clit through her panties as well as you can, knowing you’re being sloppy but you don’t know how to help it. She waits a long moment and then sighs, pulling her fingers through your hair, pulling it away from your face so you can look up at her, those pretty pretty eyes looking down at yours so indulgently. Adoringly. Like you’re something to be cherished. “Mm…yes.”

And that’s all it takes.

Your mouth falls open and your pussy does something, convulsing—

“—cumming I’m cumming Lev, A-Alisa—“

fuck, can’t breathe why can’t you breathe? something digging into your throat—

Lev’s, Lev’s hand under the choker dragging you upright tightening cutting off the sounds coming out of your mouth, choking your scream into a pathetic little mewl so he can hold your body up next to him while he fucks you through your climax—you can feel your face turning pink, your cunny holding around him, squeezing him so tight he can barely move but he still does, hips thrusting against your ass, the pleasure so bright and heavy you’re seeing sparks, head rushing, or maybe that’s just the lack of oxygen,

too tight the choker’s too tight you bring your hand back and tap against Lev’s and he lets go immediately. “Shit—sorry, are you alright? Can you breathe?”

You can feel him pulling out, and just that movement is enough to set off another round of clenching in your pussy. You’re sputtering, throat contracting in time with your cunt, not too painful. Just raw.

“Try to breathe, (Y/N),” Lev repeats, stroking down your back to soothe you. He sounds worried, and…that’s your name, isn’t it? It’s been a while since you heard one of them actually say your name instead of just kitten or kitty or kotyonok. It’s not like you can really bother pretending you’re not at least a little bit into the nickname, but hearing your real name out of his mouth stokes some kind of soft, nervous pleasure in you. And goddamn, you do not have the brainpower to analyze why.

It takes a moment for you to catch your breath—the air tastes sweeter than it did a minute ago—and then you roll over. “Did...did you cum?”

Lev shakes his head. You turn toward Alisa, and she just pats your cheek—of course she didn’t cum. Which means you’ve gotten to cum twice, and you didn’t get either of them off.

You bite your lip, turn to the side, and try not to let your eyes water for the—third? fourth?—time tonight. “I’m sorry, I—I’ll do it again, I’ll be better—“

“No,” Alisa says gently, adjusting her position to sit next to you and kiss your forehead. “You were so good, (Y/N).”

Lev mirrors her actions on the other side so you’re bracketed by the two of them. After a second of stillness to gauge your comfort, he starts undoing the clasps at the back of the choker and massaging his fingers over the tender skin underneath. You sniffle and then feel him lay his chin on the top of your head, arrange his arm over your side. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You know we like you no matter what, right?”

Alisa nods in agreement, pupils coming to a rest on the skin of your throat as she helps Lev remove the tangle of red satin straps from your body. “Our perfect little kitten. Who’s a good girl?”

Kitten.

Your stomach drops. Not your name. Just kitten.

It must be the twentieth time she’s called you that tonight, but somehow this time it’s different. You cringe, feeling cold where she touches you, but that doesn’t stop her from wiping away the smeared mascara and tear tracks from your cheeks. When you try to flinch away from her, Lev huffs out an annoyed breath and pushes you back into place. “Myesto. Stay.”

It’s a command. Like you would give to an animal. When you freeze, Alisa smiles and then she’s tilting your chin up with her fingers and bringing the camera—the camera, you forgot about the camera—to your throat so she can capture the mess of pink lines and indentations from where the choker bit into your neck…

…and who are you kidding? It’s not a choker, it’s a fucking collar. And you’re not their lover, or their girlfriend, or even their fuckbuddy.

You’re their pet.

[bestiesenpai]

youtuber Sukuna pt2

I wonder what things will happen in this part? I hope there's sparknotes, I don’t feel like reading all these words…

Content warning: *more* mean internet comments, Sukuna doxxing ppl(idk if that needs a warning?? But just in case)

part 1 --- part 3

Being a Youtuber was a lot more work than Sukuna thought it was. When he’d picked you up early in the morning, he wasn’t expecting you to come out with such a fancy camera and microphone. You looked cute as all hell too, hair styled nicely and your outfit was perfect for a day at a countryside cafe.

“Thanks for driving!” You said, climbing into his car and smiling at him. Sukuna could smell your perfume  as it wafted off your body and he immediately felt the urge to buy a bottle as well and spray his pillow with it.

“S’no problem.” He muttered, driving off as soon as you were secure. He’d looked up the place beforehand, reading their menu over and over so he’d know what to order. Slowing down at a red light, he glanced over at you taking pictures.

He wished he could ask you to send them to him so he could save them in the never ending folder he had, but he couldn’t. It would be weird, you weren’t exactly close, and it’s not like you shared any pictures anyway.

“Hey Sukuna, what’s my contact photo on your phone?” The question came out of nowhere and he looked at you in confusion.

“Contact photo? You don’t have one.”

“What, really? I’ll send you a picture then! And add a few cute emojis with my name.” Well, that was easy. He wasn’t expecting you to offer to send him a picture, but he wasn’t going to decline it.

“Okay, I will.” Turning his attention back on the road, Sukuna turned the radio on to fill the silence. “Should I...send you a picture of me?” He had the perfect picture in mind to send you, it was a thirst trap he’d snapped post-shower after a really good day at the gym. A towel hung low on his hips and he still had a few droplets of water on his skin and dripping down from his hair.

“Yes!”

The drive to the cafe was quick and easy, not a lot of traffic early in the morning. The sun was just beginning to settle in the sky and the dew on the grass was fading. The cafe you’d chosen was in a small countryside town, barley fields just a few yards away and farmers with their dogs walking by.

“This the place?” Sukuna asked, pulling into the small parking lot in confusion.

“Yup! I’m so excited!” Hopping out of the car, your camera was immediately put to work filming the surrounding area. It was peacefully silent all around you, the only sound the occasional breeze or dog barking in the distance.

Panning the camera to yourself, you took a quick couple breaths and babbled a few times before speaking properly.

“Hi everyone, as you can see we’re in a different place today! Me and Sukuna are at a cafe in the countryside that I saw online and fell in love with. Say hi Sukuna!”

“Hi.” He was standing at the edge of the lot where a field of wispy tall purple grass started. He waved dumbly, feeling like a dumb kid taken to Disneyworld.

“This is the name of the cafe…” Turning your attention elsewhere, you filmed the rest of your intro. Once again, Sukuna was amazed at the proficiency at which you did things and how smoothly he knew the shots would look.

Looking at the cafe on the outside, it didn’t look like anything special. It was a wooden and concrete building with two large windows. He could see the minimalist decor and furniture inside was wooden as well, probably handcrafted by someone in the town.

“All finished, let’s go in.” Waving him on, Sukuna jogged to be the first to the door to open it for you. Filming as you walked in, when Sukuna entered, he still didn’t understand the hype you’d placed around it.

The air smelt like a strong tea and the humidity was definitely higher. He was right in thinking that all the furniture was handcrafted, all the chairs and tables had a rough quality to them only achievable with a human touch.

“Look, this is what I came here for!” You were standing right at the dessert case, pointing your camera at whatever you were looking at.

“Why is it...?” Sukuna looked at it in confusion. There was an airbrushed cake shaped exactly like the peach emoji sitting in the case with a realistic leaf and stem as well and you looked inexplicably happy over it.

“The owner makes these cakes herself, and she’s doing a cute emoji series!” Bouncing on your heels, you tugged on his sleeve. “I’m totally getting a slice, what’re you getting?” Suddenly, the research he’d done the night prior meant nothing as he looked at the cake.

“I have no idea.”

“You’ve got time to think about it, I’m gonna ask the owner a few questions for the video.” Leaving him at the case, Sukuna saw you go up to the owner waiting at the counter from the corner of his eye. Since the two of you were the only ones here, he could hear your excited voice gushing about the cakes and decor.

Fifteen minutes later, you and Sukuna were seated right in the corner of the cafe, where the two windows intersected on the building. Not one for sweets, Sukuna got a plain poppyseed muffin and a hot tea; the cafe didn’t serve coffee.

Setting up the camera on the table next to you, you took a bite of your cake and loved it, immediately singing its praises to the camera. Sukuna ate as well, trying not to be too stiff as you spoke.

“Sukuna, you should try this too!” Holding up your fork filled with cake, you held it out to him.

“Hm, okay.” Grabbing your hand as well, he expected you to let go of the fork. But as he guided it to his mouth, you didn’t, and you were staring right at him as it went into his mouth. “Why ya staring?” He mumbled, feeling his ears burn.

“I need to know if you like it.” Sukuna didn’t let go of your hand as he chewed and you didn’t make a move to remove it either. You were too focused on his reaction to care, waiting on the edge of your seat for him to say something.

“It’s a peach flavored cake.” He nodded, snorting when you motioned him to say more. “It’s too sweet for me, but if you like it then I like it.”

“Good enough for me!” Finally you pulled away from him and put the fork down, turning to the camera and pointing in his direction. “Can you believe Sukuna doesn’t like sweets? He’s like an old man, he only got a muffin.”

“Please, could an old man deadlift almost 300lbs?” Sukuna scoffed, slapping his chest and flexing his arm.

“That’s so much! You have to train me some day Sukuna, I wanna lift that much!” Your shocked face made Sukuna smirk and he flexed the other arm as well. Your wide eyes got even wider, bouncing between both his arms.

“Anytime, (Y/N).” Sukuna felt confident enough to wink at you, and he saw the way your face faltered at it. Ducking your head away, you pretended to fiddle with the camera, the tips of your fingers shaking slightly.

It was afternoon by the time you finished in the cafe, walking out into the warmth of the sun. Looking out, all the land surrounding the cafe was flat, covered in fields of barley or tall grasses.

“Hey Sukuna…” There you were, touching the purple grass with your fingers.

“What?”

“Will you take a few pictures for me? For Instagram?”

“I don’t think I’ll be any good.” Sukuna barely knew how to take pictures of himself let alone another person.

“That’s okay, just try your best!” Putting another camera in his hand, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him to join you deeper in the field. “That camera is pretty simple, just point and click.”

“Alright.” Holding it up, he immediately snapped a picture of you.

“Wait for me to pose!” You laughed. Sukuna chuckled as well, and when you were ready, he took the pictures. He took as many as he could, clicking the button over and over.

“Take a look.” Twenty minutes later he was handing the camera back at you. Looking through the pictures, you instantly burst into laughter.

“Sukuna, why’d you take a picture of the sun? My head is in the corner, it looks like a toe!”

“I told you it’d be bad!” He couldn’t help but laugh as well. You really did look like a toe in the corner of the screen.

“Oh my god, I’m taking you to a photography class, some of these are too much.” Giggling your way through the rest of the pictures, you put the camera back in his hand. “Let’s take a couple together!”

Sukunas heart leapt for joy. He would be able to take a picture with you. It felt like he was a fan of yours and not someone you knew on a personal level.

“You’re gonna hold the camera, your arms are longer.” Flipping the viewfinder up, you slided up to Sukunas side. He muttered something unintelligible, too busy looking at the two of you together. He could almost imagine you were a couple.

“Sukuna, hold the camera like this.” His hand had gone limp, casting a bad angle on the two of you.

“Don’t face that way, the light will make you look bad.” In one of the pictures, you’d changed poses.

“I know you only take serious gym pictures but smile for this one!” His face had dropped down to a scowl, his normal resting face. After who knows how long, he was finally free from taking pictures.

Wandering back to the car, it was silent as the both of you settled in. You were busy looking over the photos and Sukuna was busy watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Anything else you wanna do here?” He asked after a while of pretending to look on Twitter.

“Mmmm, we can drive around some more! I don’t really know what else is out here.”

Sukuna drove you through the countryside town, marvelling at the farmers and all their animals. You stopped to get a couple handmade candies from an old man, and Sukuna made sure to pick up some food that wasn’t just sweets for you. Eating at a small restaurant, when you hit the road again it was nearly evening.

Driving back in near silence, somewhere along the way you fell asleep. Your head rested against the window, jostled a few times by the road or a turn. Sukuna couldn’t help but look at you any chance he could, and although he felt like a major creep, he couldn’t stop himself from taking a picture of you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.” Sukuna groaned as he got closer to the city, coming upon a wall of traffic. Far ahead up the road there was an accident that wasn’t going to be cleared away anytime soon.

“What’s up?” You asked with a loud yawn, stretching out your arms and legs as best you could.

“Traffic.” Leaning his head out the window, he let out another groan. “Might as well put the fucking car in park.” Shifting the gear and sinking low into his seat, Sukuna sighed. It’s not that he hated traffic, but he wanted every moment of this outing to be perfect, and this was seriously hindering it.

“Do you want me to send you some of the pictures we took together for your Instagram as well?”

“Yeah, send ‘em over.” At least Sukuna could stare at the two of you together to pass the time. The amount of pictures you sent him was seemingly endless and included a few he didn’t know you’d taken of him eating and looking out the window.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” You whined, kicking your feet out in boredom.

“At least an hour.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, the sound of the radio and other cars around you filling the background. Sukuna could see you fiddling with your phone, opening and closing apps. He could see you getting antsy.

“I’m already so bored.” There it was. Your pitiful whine accentuated with your head pushed back. Sukunas fingers itched to reach out and squeeze your cheek, it was glowing from the sun. “I think I’m gonna get on Instagram live or something so I can complain more.”

Laughing at your honesty, as soon as you went live Sukuna got the notification on his phone. Your head was tilted away from him, only your side of the car showed. Waving at the camera a few times, you smiled really big.

“Hi everyone! I’m stuck in traffic!” Your eyes flicked across the screen, reading the many comments coming in. “Hm, what do you mean who’s car am I in? I bought this car!”

“Liar.” Sukuna mumbled with a cheeky grin getting bigger when you tried to hide your own chuckle.

“I swear I bought this car!” You couldn’t keep the lie going, and broke down in giggles the more Sukuna looked at you. “Alright, I’m in Sukunas car.” Panning the phone out, he saw himself on screen.

“Hi.” He waved, reading the comments asking if you were on a date. “Don’t you remember from the last live? We aren’t on a date we’re filming some fucking vlog.”

“It’ll be up soon! You’ll all really enjoy it, Sukuna was a great guest.”

“The best.” He nodded along. You responded to a few more comments, but there were some that kept coming up.

‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’

‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’

‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’

“Stop spamming that fucking message like a weirdo.” Sukuna finally snapped. You had done a great job at ignoring the comment, but it was all Sukuna could see on the screen. “You’re gross to ask us to do that.” But Sukuna did wish he could kiss you. Ever since the first comment came through, he’d taken glances at your lips as you spoke.

“Oof, don’t make Sukuna mad, he’ll kill you.” You teased, and your hand went out to squeeze his arm. “He said he can deadlift almost 300lbs, so watch out.”

“That’s fucking right.” Flexing his arm proudly, Sukuna nearly put it around your shoulder, faltering at the last minute and landing on the center console with a thud.

‘It would be kind of cute to see them kiss…’

‘I bet Sukuna can’t even hug (Y/N)’

‘I bet after today they’ll come out and say they’re dating!’

Now all the comments were talking about the two of you dating, and how cute it would be if you really were. Biting his lip, Sukuna watched your reaction closely. Truly he had no problem with the comments, he wanted them to be true as well, but if you were uncomfortable he was ready to put everyone in their place.

“Gosh you guys ship us so hard.” You seemed okay with it, your face wasn’t tense and you were still making eye contact with Sukuna. “Are you going to subscribe to my channel if I kiss him?”

“What?” Sukunas eyes widened and the comments poured in promising life long dedication to you if you went through with it.

“Alright.” Setting your phone up on the dashboard, you turned to Sukuna. “I’ll be quick, okay?”

“What?” He parroted. His hands were getting clammy just thinking about it and the look in your eyes wasn’t helping. With a nervous lick of his lips Sukuna leant forward and had just begun to pucker his mouth when you loudly kissed your palm and pressed it to his cheek.

“There! I kissed Sukuna!” With a big grin on your face you kissed your hand again and put it on him. “I did it twice! Now go subscribe!”

“What the hell.” Sukuna mumbled to himself, feeling like an idiot for thinking you’d really kiss him. He spent the next fifteen minutes in a stupor, vaguely replying to comments and trying to get over the embarrassment he felt.

Dropping you off nearly an hour past the original time, when Sukuna got home he buried his face into his pillow and let out a short yell. The biting shame he felt at almost making himself a fool in front of thousands of people was still fresh. He knew there’d be fancams of the moment just waiting for him. A buzzing on his phone pulled him out of his thoughts.

(Y/N): you need to send me a picture for your contact photo!

That’s right, the picture. Sukuna didn’t even need to scroll that far to find it, it was in his favorites. Sending it to you without a second thought, he didn’t even have the mind to check your reaction. Leaving his phone on the bed, he rushed to the shower to cool off.

When he returned, there were a flurry of messages from you waiting to be read. Most of them were unreadable keyboard smashes and a few emojis.

(Y/N): SUKUNA!

(Y/N): you can’t just send me a picture like that!!

(Sukuna): why?

(Y/N): you know why!

He could practically hear your flustered little whine.

(Sukuna): enlighten me please

(Y/N): SWSGMLU

(Y/N): you’re such a bully!!

(Sukuna): haha sounds like someone's embarrassed

It was a long few minutes before you replied and Sukuna could see the typing bubbles appear and reappear several times.

(Y/N): I’M GOING TO BED

(Sukuna): you that tired? it’s only 9pm

(Y/N): YES GOODNIGHT

(Y/N): BYE BULLY

(Sukuna): lol goodnight then

In a week, the vlog was up and Sukuna made his debut into the world. He rewatched it several times over, in awe of how well you’d captured the countryside and translated it to video. He even screen recorded some parts, like when he was flexing for you, just to replay your reaction over and over.

In the weeks following, Sukuna watched your channel grow exponentially. Your number of subscribers wasn’t small, but it was nowhere near his, yet you made the leap to over a million and a half practically overnight. And with that new success, came a lot of pressure.

You’d recently taken up streaming, and Sukuna was at every single one. He had made a Twitch account just to watch you and he subscribed immediately, blushing when you read out his name and personally thanked him in a text a few minutes later.

Entering your stream as soon as it started, Sukuna was ready to sit and watch you do whatever. Usually, you played a game like the Sims, but sometimes you’d cook or put makeup on for a stream.

But this time was different. When your face appeared on the screen, you looked down. Almost as if you’d been fighting back tears. Immediately, Sukuna grabbed his phone, ready to call you and ask what was happening.

“Hey guys.” He could hear it in your voice that you were sad. It warbled and broke, and you sniffled a few times.

‘(Y/N) why’re you crying??’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Did something happen? You can tell us, we’re here for you’

“No, don’t worry everyone it’s just…” A stray tear fell down your cheek and you wiped it away with a shaking hand. “I-I- just-” You quickly broke down crying, turning your chair completely away from the screen.

Sukuna was swiftly dialing your number. He had no idea what was wrong, you hadn’t told him anything was wrong, but he needed to know. He was prepared to go to your house if you needed him to.

“I’m okay, I promise.” Feverishly wiping your tears, you turned back to the camera. Taking several deep breaths, you didn’t look at the camera as you spoke. “I’ve just been getting a lot of hate comments recently and you know I always ignore it but-” Your voice caught, and Sukuna was glued to the screen. “It’s just been a lot honestly.”

‘(Y/N) WE LOVE YOU’

‘PLEASE DON’T CRY WE’RE HERE FOR YOU’

‘I bet it’s all of Sukunas fans, they’re so fucking gross’

‘Totally Sukuna fans, all the real fans love (Y/N) and would never do this’

“N-no, don’t blame Sukuna! He can’t control what people say!” It was totally his fans and he fucking knew it. His call had gone unanswered two times, but on the third time you answered. “Hello?”

“Put me on speaker.”

“But-”

“Put me on speaker!” He demanded. Sukunas blood was boiling, rage rolling over him in waves.

“Sukuna’s calling, I guess he has something to say.” Holding the phone close to the microphone, you kept wiping away tears.

“Listen here you insignificant dirtbags, stop leaving shitty little hate comments on (Y/N)s stuff. You’re all fucking piss poor losers who can’t even wipe your own asses, probably jerking each other off in a pathetic circle. Go get a fucking job, worthless pieces of shit. Don’t think this is something you can get away with either, I’m going to make sure you fucking regret the day you were born.” His voice was dripping with so much malice it scared you. While Sukuna was used to talking like this, you’d never heard it in person and you could tell he meant every word.

“Thanks Sukuna, but you don’t have to-”

“Tell me who they are. Where’d they leave the comments?” Angrily setting up a shitty webcam he had, Sukuna was preparing to do a livestream himself.

“I don’t know…”

“(Y/N).” Taking a pause, he stared at the screen. You were worrying your lip as you stared at your phone while the comments begged for you to tell him.

“Alright. Most of them are under the vlog we did together, and there’s a lot under my most recent Instagram pictures.”

“The ones with us together too?”

“Yeah, those are the worst ones.”

“Keep me on the line.” Sukuna had never been this angry in his life before and it showed in his actions. He was slamming things down in a rush to set up his stream and letting out frustrated noises in the back of his throat.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?” You’d gotten your emotions under control enough to stop crying, your glassy eyes shining in the light of your room.

“I’m setting up my own stream.” Just as he spoke, his face appeared on the screen and he was live. “Tell everyone to send me screenshots of the hate comments, I’m going to teach these assholes a lesson.”

“I think they heard you.” Indeed they had. The phone was still close to the microphone, and now there were comments pouring in telling Sukuna they’d send links through his stream.

Clicking on almost all of the ones that popped up, his screen was bombarded with pictures of people leaving hateful comments on your posts. Many were saying that you didn’t deserve to be alive, to be so close to Sukuna, and many called you ugly or other mean names.

“Let’s see what this fucker looks like.” Going to one of the profiles on Twitter, Sukuna nearly spat on his screen looking at it. “This ugly sack of shit wants to leave some mean comments? Well it’s your lucky day bitch, you’re the first one to go.” It took Sukuna all of five minutes to find the person's Facebook account where they posted more personal information.

“Oh, that’s a pretty high brow uni you’re going to! It would really be a shame if I sent an email to the dean.” Sukuna said mockingly, already typing up a long email. “You’re not gonna be studying to be a doctor any fucking more. Have fun digging ditches bitch.”

Sukuna’s stream easily went from 200 viewers to nearly 40,000 just in the time it took him to dox the first person. The next one was even easier, and it snowballed from there. Sukuna had no qualms about sharing this personal information, from their addresses to their personal phone numbers to where they worked.

“You really don’t have to do all this.” You kept saying over the phone. You’d ended your own stream to calm down, but you didn’t hang up the phone.

“Yes I do.” Sukuna replied instantly. “People have no respect for others, it’s fucking gross. If they think they can get away with this they’re idiots.” So many comments were egging him on as well, with a lot of people promising to harass everyone exposed until they apologized. “I hope every single one of them loses everything.”

“Sukuna…” With a sigh, you sat back and watched him do it. There wasn't anything you could say to stop him, he was on a warpath and intent on causing harm. Eventually, you had to hang up the call as it got well into the night and he was still going.

“Keep sending the fucking links, I can do this all night.” Sukuna repeated several times, fighting off sleep. His eyes burned from staring at the screen for so long and his back had begun to ache but he wasn’t about to stop now. There were still so many people that had to pay.

After nearly eight hours of streaming himself doxing people, he finally stopped after his channel got banned. His manager had emailed as soon as the sun rose, frantically screaming at him to stop what he was doing or he could get sued.

(Sukuna): tell me right away if this happens again I’ll handle it

He texted you right after getting banned. His body hurt from exhaustion, he could truly pass out at any moment.

(Y/N): I will

(Y/N): sukuna...thanks for doing all that. It really meant a lot to know you care about me

(Sukuna): Of course I care about you

Sukuna was about to type out that he liked you, of course he did all of that and risked himself getting sued because he liked you and never wanted to see you cry again. Almost admitting to how he wanted nothing more than to give you a big hug, but stopping himself at the last moment.

(Y/N): you’re such a good friend Sukuna, thank you

(Sukuna): you’re welcome

It hurt to be put into that category, in the friendzone. It made his tongue curl in disgust, a rancid place that he wanted no part of. People that were in the friendzone were spineless and too weak to just confess their feelings - and Sukuna seemed to be one of them.

After that incident, you went on a break from all social media and Sukuna began to patrol your comments sections. He actively posted that he would start doxing people again if they said anything bad, citing all the damage he’d done to the previous victims. Sukuna had gotten what he wanted, all the people he exposed suffered in some way, most losing jobs and friends.

On a run to the grocery store, Sukuna was listening to a podcast you’d been on. He missed the content you posted, and while he did text you sporadically about Youtube stuff, he didn’t feel comfortable messaging you about anything else. His mind always stopped him, questioning him on if what he wanted to say was really worth your time.

“Hi Sukuna.” Standing at the bread section, Sukuna nearly jumped into the air hearing your voice pop up next to him. There you were in a baggy hoodie and sweats, looking every part an unnoticeable member of society.

“(Y/N)? W-what’re you doing here?”

“Hm? I’m shopping.” You chuckled, showing him your handbasket.

“Right.” Nodding slowly, Sukuna eyed you up. Your eyes were still a little puffy and he could see they were red as well. You looked tired and worn down, not your usual happy self. “Hey (Y/N).”

“Yeah?” You were unprepared for the heavy arm that landed around your shoulders and even more at being pulled into an embrace. Sukuna hugged you to his chest tightly, squeezing the back of your hoodie in his hands.

“I…” He could feel you relaxing into his arms, heaving a deep sigh like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. “Don’t feel sad anymore.” Sukuna seemed to have a habit of saying the things he wanted to say in the worst way possible. What did that even mean? To tell you not to be sad anymore instead of offering something else, like his friendship, during this time. He wanted to tell you he’d be here for you.

“Thanks Sukuna.” Hugging him back just as tightly, he could hear you sniffle a few times. The hug lasted for a while, just standing in front of bread, and a good two minutes passed before you started to unwind yourself from him.

Keeping a loose arm around you, Sukuna kept you close, searching your face for any hint that you would possibly start crying. Your eyes were a little misty, and your lower lip quivered just a little, but you sent him a smile that made it all better.

“So, what’re you getting?” He asked, attempting to be casual.

“Well, I’m actually done shopping now and I just saw you standing here.” You admitted with a chuckle. “I know it’s been a while since we last spoke properly.” The last message you’d sent to each other was about a sim card two days ago.

“Don’t worry about it, you were going through stuff.” Shrugging his shoulder, Sukuna grabbed the bread he wanted. “I don’t want you to force yourself to talk to me if you don’t want to.”

“Sukuna, I want to talk to you more though! I know we only talk about Youtube stuff but I want us to be better friends.”

“Really?” Nearly crushing the bread in his hands, Sukuna quirked a brow at you.

“Yeah!”

“Well...alright then.” That made him really happy, like really really happy. You wanted to pursue a stronger relationship with him and while it wasn’t a romantic one like he hoped, he was still ecstatic on the inside.

“I have to go, but can we video call later? I have some things I wanna ask you.”

“Okay.” Giving you a brief wave, Sukuna watched you walk out of the aisle and out of sight. A silly smile stretched his cheeks at the thought of your call later, and it stayed on his face the whole way home.

Later that night, Sukuna was diligently waiting for your call. He kept his phone glued to his hand, something he didn’t normally do, just in case you called. At nearly 7pm on the dot, you called and Sukuna answered right away.

“Hi!” You weren’t in the baggy clothes anymore, it looked like you were in pajamas sitting on your couch.

“Hey.” Sukuna was sitting at his computer doing editing, so he didn’t have to worry about you seeing the lack of furniture in his home. All you had to look at was a blank wall behind him. “So, you wanted to ask me something?”

“Mhmm! I was wondering- well first, Sukuna do you watch anime?”

“Anime?” His face twisted up in mild disgust. “No, that shit is fucking lame.”

“Sukuna!”

“What? I’m not that much of a fucking loser to like anime.” Rolling his eyes, he immediately envisioned a man in his mothers basement jerking off to pixelated tits. “Why? Do you watch it?”

“Yeah…” Now you were embarrassed, and it showed on your face.

“Fine, you’re not a fucking loser.” Propping his phone up on his desk, he tipped his chair back and looked at the ceiling. “At least, not a total fucking loser.”

“Sukuna!” Now you were laughing at him, and he smirked at you. “You’re so mean, you know that?”

“Hey, that’s my brand ba-” He was about to call you baby, the word catching thickly in his throat. Luckily, he stopped himself and slammed his chair back down on the ground to cover it up.

“Well, now I don’t know if I want to ask you my question! You’re gonna say no right away.”

“Tell me.”

“No!” Shaking your head hard, you panned the phone up to your ceiling. “You’re definitely gonna bully me!”

“Who knew you were such a baby?” There, he’d called you baby like he wanted to. Not in the context that he desired, but he still got to say it.

“Am not!” Glaring at him, you exhaled shortly. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to this anime convention with me? It’s happening downtown in a few weeks and I’m a guest on a lot of panels this year. I want you to come with to help film stuff for me so I can make it into a highlights reel for my channel? As sort of a comeback video since I’ve been gone for a while.” It was amazing how you’d managed to say all of that so quickly without taking a breath.

“A convention?” Sukuna had only been to fitness conventions and a few that his manager made him go to.

“Yeah! And I wanted to know if you watched anime because I wanted to see if you’d cosplay with me!”

“Cosplay? What the fuck is that?” It sounded stupid.

“We would dress up as characters from an anime! Have you heard of demon slayer?” No, he hadn’t and his silence told you as much. “Look up Nezuko from demon slayer, that’s who I’m dressing up as!”

“Fine, one sec.” Quickly typing it into his computer, Sukuna’s brow rose seeing the character. “You’re gonna dress up as some BDSM girl?”

“It’s not BDSM!”

“Then why does she have that thing in her mouth?” What else could it be for?

“That’s because she’s a demon and they don’t want her to eat people!”

“God that’s lame.” Looking between his phone and the computer, Sukuna tried to imagine you in this outfit. It was cute, a cute pink kimono with a little hair tie and sash. The more Sukuna looked at it, the cuter it got. “But on you it’ll be cute.”

“So will you dress up with me?” You asked immediately, your eyes shining with excitement. “I already know what character you’ll be! There’s a boy named Inosuke that-”

“No way, save your breath. I’m not dressing up.” Doing a quick search of the boy in question, Sukuna let out a snort. “And why do you want me to dress up as someone with a boars head on? You saying I’m ugly?”

“You don’t have to wear the head!” The opportunity was quickly slipping through your fingers at seeing Sukuna cosplay. “It’s ‘cause you’re so fit and so is he! And you’re pretty similar too.”

“I don’t care if he was my twin.” Shaking his head, Sukuna closed the tab and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll tell ya what, I’ll come to this thing and take all the videos and pictures you want and in exchange, I won’t dress up.”

“Wait, how does that logic-”

“Just go with it. Now send me an email about the thing and I’ll clear my schedule.” Waving off any further questions you had, Sukuna quickly got the email for the convention. It was about two weeks from today, and it was going on for the whole weekend.

“So, do you think you’ll be able to make it?” You asked tentatively, worrying your lip.

“Of course.” Sukuna would definitely need to do some serious schedule rearranging. “I’ll pick you up like last time, just let me know the time.”

“You’re the best, Sukuna!” You smiled big at him and Sukuna smiled back. Maybe during the convention, he could show you he was more than just a friend.

When the day of the convention came, Sukuna got ready bright and early to pick you up. The sun had only just settled onto the horizon and he was chugging coffee before leaving.

“Hey.” You yawned loudly as you got in his car, still clearly half asleep.

“Cute.” Sukuna said in response. You looked absolutely adorable. The pink kimono looked good on you, the sash accentuating your waist well. The little green gag he’d seen earlier was hanging around your neck, and you had a cute pink ribbon in your hair.

“Hm? You like it?” Shuffling around, that was when Sukuna saw how high the slit was on your outfit, coming high up on your thigh. His eyes were glued to the skin that showed, unable to look away.

“I do.” He whispered, glancing at you briefly to see your eyes were closed.

“That’s good, I spent a lot of time on it.” Putting your seatbelt on, you yawned again and pointed lazily out the window. “To the convention!”

It was a short drive to the convention, and you were some of the first people there. With a badge around his neck, Sukuna followed you into the hall. You weren’t carrying the bag of camera equipment you’d brought, Sukuna insisted on carrying it so it wouldn’t ruin your costumes aesthetic.

“We’re here really early to get pictures! I booked with a professional photographer, and my pictures are going to be used as promo for a few brands here today.” You explained as Sukuna followed you into a room with a full photoshoot set up.

“Okay.” He was completely lost watching you begin to take pictures. After chugging an energy drink, you hopped straight into it. Sukuna made sure to watch the photographer closely, looking at the computer as the pictures popped up to make sure they weren’t indecent for you.

Nearly an hour and a half later and you were finally done. Sukuna had begun to film some parts of it for you per your request; his job as videographer started now.

“The convention hall is open now to everyone, it might be kind of overwhelming to see all the people out there.” You told him as the photographer was packing up.

“Eh, I’ll be fine.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Sukuna left the room and stepped out into the main hall. Immediately, he knew you were right. There were so many people already milling around dressed in costume, most from shows and games he’d never seen. The only readily identifiable characters for him were from Nintendo.

“Told you it was a lot.” Bumping him with your shoulder, walked out into the convention space. If Sukuna didn’t stand right behind you, he feared he would lose you in the crowd. There were other people dressed up as the same character and he couldn’t trust himself to differentiate between all of them.

Filming a little bit of walking around, Sukuna could hear and see people looking at him in shock. It wasn’t unknown that Sukuna had a distaste for anime and the whole culture surrounding it. Some of his most popular videos were him making fun of people at the very same thing he was at now.

“E-excuse me, (Y/N)?” A young teenage girl approached you, nervously fiddling with her phone.

“Hi!” You waved, immediately seeing her phone. “Do you want a picture?”

“Yes, please!” The girl's nerves quickly dissipated at your question, but she still looked scared of Sukuna.

“How about we take a few selfies?” Sliding next to her, you put an arm around her shoulder and posed. You and the girl took a numerous amount of pictures, and when she left she had a happy blush on her cheeks.

“Is that gonna happen often?” Sukuna asked, watching the girl disappear into the crowd.

“Yeah, sorry! I posted that I’d be going to this for the second and third day and a lot of people said they were gonna ask for pictures.” Rubbing the back of your head nervously, you sized up Sukunas face. “Sorry if it annoys you, I know it can be kind of tedious.”

“I don’t mind. Let's get going.” With a casual shrug, Sukuna walked to where your first panel was. He stayed off to the side as you talked to the organizers and other guests, feeling awkward that he couldn’t hold a conversation on whatever it was you were talking about.

The people soon filed into the panel, filling the seats and whispering excitedly about you and the other people sitting at the front of the room. Some of them noticed Sukuna and whispered about him too.

Ignoring them diligently, Sukuna filmed your panel from the back of the room. He didn’t need to worry about picking up any sound, you were speaking into a microphone. All he had to worry about was capturing good angles for you.

He did this for a few more panels as well, slowly getting more comfortable with people noticing him there. He even waved at a few fangirls that saw him, their faces erupting in a scarlet flush and giggling silly.

“We have almost two hours before my next panel, do you want to grab some food? I’ll pay.” Waiting in the back of an empty room, you tried to reach for your bag that Sukuna had slung over his shoulder.

“No, you don’t have to pay.” Pushing your hand away, Sukuna kept you at arms length.

“C’mon, you have to let me pay! You’re doing so much for me already!”

“Nope.” You tried to struggle past him and grab your bag, but Sukuna was strong enough to keep you at bay with one arm. “Fine! But I’m buying you a plushie later!”

“Whatever.” With the matter settled, the two of you left the room. Almost as soon as you came out, there was a loud gasp from a few people outside the door.

“Oh my god, your Nezuko is so good!” One of them shouted. Sukuna eyed him up, a young man dressed with a strange green and black checkered overcoat.

“Thanks!” You replied, fiddling with the edge of the brown one you were wearing. “I spent ages on getting everything just right!”

“Y-you’re (Y/N)! I didn’t think I was going to see you today!” Another man had on a similar getup to the first, but he was clad in yellow and orange.

“It must be your lucky day!” Laughing a little at his shocked face, you quickly noticed the third man standing there. “Sukuna look, this is what I meant when I said you should dress up as Inosuke!”

“Huh.” He looked at the shirtless man in front of him. The guy was muscular enough, not nearly as much as Sukuna was though. The brown pants he wore were too baggy for Sukunas liking, but he could see the way you were looking at him.

“Can we get a picture please?”

“Of course!” You quickly got in the middle of the three of them and crouched down, throwing up peace signs and smiling brightly as they took the selfies. Sukuna was watching all of their hands, making sure no one touched you or got too close.

“Sukuna, will you take a group picture for us?” You asked, already handing him a phone.

“Yeah.” You didn’t really leave him with a choice and it’s not like he was going to say no to you anyway. It was harder to keep track of just where these men were putting their hands, and every so often Sukuna would look to make sure that the hand placed on your back stayed there and didn’t go any lower.

“Thank you so much!”

“You’re the best, (Y/N)!

“Bye, please tag me in the pictures if you post them!” Waving cutely at them, you walked away. “Ah, that was so much fun! They were so cute!” Gushing about the pictures, you didn’t notice Sukuna had a vein throbbing in his forehead. He seriously wishes he’d dressed up in that dumb costume with you so you could feel the same way about him.

Quickly eating some fast food - much to Sukunas disgust - you were back in the convention hall. There seemed to be even more people here than before milling about. Gripping the back of your top, Sukuna made sure you didn’t get too far from him in the crowd.

“Let’s go check out the merch!” Leading him to a larger space in the convention center, your eyes sparkled looking at all the different vendors spread out. “Sukuna, is there anything you want to check out?”

“Not really.” The only thing he could see that he knew were some overpriced candies. “I’ll just follow you.” And that he did. You stopped at nearly every booth, rejoicing about how cute something was and how much you wanted a certain figure. Sukuna offered to pay for whatever you wanted, but you staunchly refused.

“Sukuna, which one’s your favorite?” Coming upon a booth filled to the brim with different plushies, you crossed your arms and squared your shoulders. “We aren’t leaving here until I buy you a plushie!”

“I don’t need one.” Not only would it ‘ruin’ his tough image, he didn’t like those things to begin with.

“Yes you do!” Stamping your foot childishly, you pointed at them. “Pick one!”

“Who knew you could be so mean?” He teased back with a flick to your forehead.

“Shut up.” Puffing out air, you grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to the booth. “I’ll even help you decide.”

“O-oh.” You were holding his hand. You were definitely, 100% holding Sukunas hand. Your two hands were squishing his one in your palms, shaking it side to side as you looked at all the choices before you. How was Sukuna supposed to pick something when you were holding his hand so close to your body? He could feel the tips of his fingers graze your sash every couple seconds.

“What about this one?” You pointed your hands to a brown bear with a giant body but a tiny head.

“What’s wrong with the head?” He looked concerned at the doll.

“It’s supposed to be like that!”

“I- okay.”

“Do you like it?” Looking at him hopefully, you squished his hand even more. “It’s so cute, you have to get it.”

“Let me see it.” Picking it up with his other hand, Sukuna stared at the unmoving, smiling face of the bear. Squeezing it in his hand, Sukuna let out a short sigh and put it down. “Alright, I’ll get it.”

“Yes!” Letting go of his hand, you rushed to grab your wallet before he could stop you. “Make sure to send me a picture of you with it!”

Right after you finished paying, Sukuna nearly demanded to buy you stuff as well. He’d seen the way you were eyeballing the figures and some books, and he wasn’t going to be the only one to leave this part of the convention hall with a souvenir.

The bags he was carrying were definitely heavier now when you left to go to your next panel. They put a little strain on Sukunas arms but he wasn’t about to let you carry anything and quickly ducked back to his car to put it all away.

Right in the middle of your next panel, Sukuna ducked out to go to the bathroom. He was keeping well hydrated during this whole day and it was surely catching up with him now. Wandering the halls, he eventually found a bathroom to use and on his exit, he noticed a sign for something called an ‘artists alley’.

“Let’s check it out.” Here, there were people selling things but they were clearly fan made. There were paintings and pins, stickers and fan art everywhere. Wandering between the vendors, his eye caught on a particular booth.

“Sukuna?” The person gaped when he walked up but he wasn’t paying attention to them. On a cork board above them was a moderately sized drawing of you, dressed up in an all red get up.

“How much?” He pointed at the drawing, looking at the red cap you had on that matched with the red jacket.

“The (Y/N) x Cells At Work fan art? It’s $35.”

“I’ll take it.” The artist was clearly surprised, scrambling to grab the drawing and put it in a protective sleeve. “Keep the change.” Sukuna slapped 40 down and turned away. “Oh, and don’t tell anyone I was here.”

“O-okay!” They shouted after him. Sukuna kept the drawing close to his chest and when he got back he quickly hid it in his bag so no one would notice. He started filming again like he’d never left and you didn’t question him on it when it was over.

“Man, I’m so tired!” With the convention over hours later, you all but collapsed into Sukunas car. It had indeed been an eventful day between speaking at panels and taking pictures with countless people.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Sukuna agreed, taking a moment to sit in silence in the driver's seat. He hadn’t expected to be so tired after today. He’ll have to prepare better for tomorrow.

Driving you home, both of you were like zombies as you departed. Sukuna didn’t even have the heart to properly disrobe when he got home, collapsing into bed with the plush you’d gotten for him still in his hand.

The next day was just as hectic as the day before, the word had gotten out that you really were at the convention and now more people swarmed you in between panels. Sukuna took the pictures for all of them, giving any man that wanted one a harsh glare before he started. He was easier on the younger girls, but he still made sure that they didn’t try to flirt with you or anything. No one could be fully trusted.

“Sukuna, I forgot yesterday but we need to go to the artists alley!” You exclaimed in shock, grabbing his upper arm. “They have such cool stuff!” Oh, Sukuna definitely already knew about it. The drawing he’d bought of you was hanging in his room, by his full length mirror so he could see it whenever he wanted.

He pretended everything was brand new to him, acting as if he’d never seen the pins before or the stickers and tote bags. Coming upon the artist he’d bought from yesterday, he noticed there was more fan art of you there.

“Oh my gosh, that’s me!” You giggled happily, pointing to yourself drawn as a Pokemon trainer. “It looks so good!”

“Thank you so much (Y/N)!” The artist gaped, clearly shocked to see you here. “I-I studied all of your pictures so I could get everything just right!”

“You did a great job!” The two of you went on and on about the drawings and other paintings that were there. Sukuna wished he could chime in and say that he really liked the art he bought yesterday, but there was no way he was explaining to you that he bought a drawing of you as a red blood cell. He would rather die.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, all the panels going by so fast and melting into one another. He didn’t feel the same exhaustion as the other day, but Sukuna was definitely still tired as he walked to the car.

“Sukuna, thank you so for this weekend, it really means a lot!” You were the happiest he’d ever seen you. The footage he’d filmed for your video perfectly captured all the good parts of the convention, with several shots of your smiling face with fans and other panel members. “How can I repay you?”

“Well…” There was something he’d been wanting to ask you for a while, ever since he saw you in costume. Today was the last day of the convention and subsequently the last day you’d be wearing this costume. “Can we get a picture together?”

“What? We never took a picture together?”

“No.” Sukuna chuckled at your surprised face. Rushing to his car, you set up a little stand for your camera on the hood of his car.

“Okay, let’s take some!” As soon as Sukuna was standing next to you, you wrapped your arms around his middle in a tight hug.

“W-what’re you doing?” Immediately, his face began to blush.

“You deserve a hug, Sukuna, you’ve been amazing.” Sukuna could barely breathe. Not because you were holding him firmly, but simply from the fact that you were hugging him of your own accord. His hands were shaking slightly as he moved to hug you back, grinning shyly at the pleased hum you let out when he did so.

The drive home left a bittersweet feeling on Sukunas tongue. He was glad it was over so that he didn’t have to wake up so early and deal with the gross crowds of people. There weren’t potentially disgusting men and perverts trying to take upskirt shots of your costume or grope you that he had to worry about.

Stopping at a light though, he realized how much fun he had as well. Listening to you talk and share your opinions on the panels was interesting and getting to hear others talk to so passionately as well had made him interested in a few shows. He knew you’d be ecstatic to hear that he could potentially get into anime, and Sukuna knew that at the next convention, he’d dress up for you. He also loved the bear you’d bought him even though that was something he’d never admit.

“Thank you again Sukuna, seriously.” You squeezed his arm as he pulled up to your house.

“Don’t mention it. Let me help you with the stuff in the back.” You’d bought even more things today than yesterday, mostly for friends and family that couldn’t make it to the convention. Gathering all the bags, Sukuna walked them to your door and wandered right into your apartment.

“You can put them all near the couch!” Closing the door behind him you quickly jogged over to the couch to help him with the bags.

“Whoa, your place is nice.” It actually looked like someone lived here as opposed to Sukunas place that looked like an upgraded jail cell. There was a fluffy rug on the wall and a few cute figures and small plushies on shelves, you had plants hanging down from the ceiling and it smelled vaguely floral. There was also a space dedicated to fan made art and gifts, with some fresh flowers sitting in a vase.

“Thanks! Maybe we can film a video here someday!”

“Definitely.” Mumbling dumbly, Sukuna was vaguely aware of you staring at him. “What?”

“You’re such a good friend, Sukuna. I can’t thank you enough!” Again, you hugged him. Burying your face into him, you shook his body side to side before quickly letting go. “Anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask!”

“Hey that’s my line.” Patting you on the head, Sukuna let a dumb smile spread his cheeks. He truly had the most fun ever with you, and for a moment he could pretend that you were a couple and that he was going to spend the night here, cuddle up with you and talk about all the dumb little things happened the past few days.

But he wasn’t dating you and his daydream only lived a few seconds before he made his departure. Going back to his own home, as Sukuna stepped inside he got a notification that he’d been tagged in a photo.

It’s one of the ones you’d taken together where you were hugging each other tightly. Your smile was genuine, showing all your teeth. Your eyes were crinkled at the corners, looking at Sukuna’s kind of surprised face with an indescribable warmth.

‘I love my friends’

That was the caption you’d put with a simple heart emoji after. There were people in the comments asking if this meant you were dating now, begging for you to admit it so they could say their ship sailed. Reading the caption over and over, Sukuna bit his lip to contain the feeling spreading in his chest.

‘I love my friends too’

He commented. And one day, he promised himself that he’d get to call you something more than just a friend. Wandering further into his apartment, he smiled like an idiot at his phone, quickly screenshotting the post.

“Ow!” Bumping his shin hard into his plastic foldable dining table, he was faced with the jarring reality of his surroundings. If he wanted to call you his, he needed to get some furniture first.

[elfwoodfae]

“Slow” Harrison Eo Wells x reader

Author’s note: This is pure smut no plot or anything, thank you so much to @harrisonwellsisdaddy for giving this wings and to everyone in discord who feeds the thirst trap.

WARNING: Smut. Please don’t read if under 18.

Gif credits to the owner, I found this one on google.

Rain poured from the sky as he carried you, speeding you to a safe place. It had gone horribly wrong. The plan was for you to leave before he had let the meta-human out of the cell, but of course you had come back and had ended up caught up in the mix. Luckily it was a minor injury, a sprained wrist from being thrown against a wall, but even if you were some sort of an inconvenience, it was on him that you had gotten hurt.

You were still jittery and nervous around him, ever since finding out who he really was. Obviously he had threatened you to shut your mouth up but even as he hated to admit it the look of terror and the tears in your eyes that day had touched him. Before you had found out about him, you had gone on a date, the two of you. He didn’t want to, he tried to shrug you off but you were so persistent and so sweet to him that he had ended up agreeing, there had been sexual tension between both of you, with you always admiring who Harrison Wells was and him being alone for so long and trying to keep you on check had made him grow fond of you. Of course all of that went to hell when you discovered him.

Once he made it through the door with you in his arms he laid you in his sofa, you were soaking wet and he was trying to check your injury. After wrapping your wrist up you had tried to leave, but he wasn’t having it, you were to stay put until that meta-human was caught again.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked as he observed you.

“Since you are planning to keep me here, can I please have a shower? I am cold and uncomfortable.” You told him, avoiding his gaze as you had done since finding out.

Guiding you to the very luxurious bathroom, he handed you a black sweater of his to wear while your clothes dried. His bathroom was huge, a glass panel shower and very extravagant mirror on the walls. He probably loved looking at himself.

After getting cleaned up and drying yourself you grabbed the sweater. It was long enough to cover your ass and fall right before your knees, and loose enough to be comfortable. Opening the door he was right in front of it, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

He took you in, the way his clothes fitted you, your bare legs and the way your checks warmed up. Guiding you back to the sofa he reapplied the bandage to your arm, he sat in the end of the sofa, while you laid across it, the fireplace was lighted up to warm you up. Your feet grazed his lap and by instinct you tried to retract them away from him but he was faster and grabbed them, moving them over his lap while looking at the fire, his expression unreadable.

Out of boredom his fingers started caressing your leg, rubbing up and down, never going farther away than your knee. Turning on your back so you could look at him you spoke for the first time in a while without him having to prompt you.

“I wish I hadn’t found out, I am sure we could have been great together, I wanted it to work so bad.”

“I wish you hadn’t either. I didn’t want you, I didn’t want to go out with you, I knew it would only complicate things. But you were so pushy, so sweet and I couldn’t refuse you.” He said still looking at the fire.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this. Ever since that date we had you became stuck in my mind, I would observe you, wondering how I could have allowed you to screw up my plans so easily.” He finished.

“I always wondered what it would have felt like to kiss you.” In a moment of bravery you admitted. “I wondered how soft your hair was, or how you smelled, but none of that matters now.” You finish looking away to the fire.

Why did you had to tell him that, it was stupid to admit now, suddenly shame came over you and you wished you could just crawl under a bed and hide. Even if he was evil and twisted you still liked him, he still made you nervous and jittery.

His eyes trailed to your form, taking in the way your head was looking to the side, you jawline defined with the light of the fire and your neck exposed as your chest fell and rose softly. He moved your legs out of the way, and as if by instinct, as if a force beyond himself was moving him by command he started to crawl over you. Your head snapped in his direction as your knee lifted up to his abdomen to stop him out of nerves, forgetting that there was no underwear under your shirt. His eyes flickered for half a second down as a smirk played on his lips. Quickly you pushed the sweater down again in case anything had been revealed.

“What are you doing?” You questioned him warily.

“What does it seem like I’m doing?” He replied, moving his hands up your knee to grab it and move it to the side.

His arms came at either side of your head, the space cramped in the sofa. He wasn’t thinking straight and neither were you, but as you looked into his eyes and yours flickered to his lips only one thought crossed your mind.

He moved his lips to yours, softly, tasting you and seeing if you would push him away. Breaking the kiss he moved back, only for your hand to shoot up to his hair and bring him back down again. Kissing him deeply this time, he ran his tongue flat against your lips, asking you to open your mouth. He tasted all of you, exploring you, while his hand rested on your thighs. His lips moved to your jawline, kissing and moving down your neck, leaving love marks and sucking on the skin, making you moan while he bit into it, rubbing his tongue over it after.

He was making you a moaning mess under him, your skin was warm and the way it tasted was driving him insane. He wanted to touch more of you, to feel you. But the moment his hands moved up your thighs his body couldn’t contain the excitement anymore, making him vibrate all of him like the first time he had become a speedster, every cell in his body too excited to be contained, his eyes illuminated red for a second at the same time thunder roared through the sky, making you open your eyes and push your hand against his chest, your heart beating out of your chest.

He was moving too fast, your mind had been able to trick you into thinking that this was the man you knew but the moment he vibrated and his eyes illuminated you were aware who he really was, what he represented and what he could do.

“I’m sorry I just,” you didn’t even know why you were apologizing, but you didn’t want to push him away. You just needed him to go slower.

“Can you,” you swallowed avoiding his eyes. “Can you just take it slower?” You finished while avoiding his eyes.

“Are you sure?” He was making sure you were okay with this, he could be a lot of things but he would never force you into something you didn’t want.

“Yes I am, I am just nervous, I honestly never thought this situation would happen.” You continued and to prove him you were serious you slowly moved his head back down to kiss him.

The hand on your thigh remained still while his lips kissed you softly, moving slowly down your neck again, kissing and nipping at the skin. His other hand tangled in your hair while his forearm held him up over you. He ran his tongue up your neck to your ear, biting the earlobe softly, making you squirm under him and moan at the feeling. He took his time working you to relax, kissing your lips, your neck, making you forget what plagued your mind.

Your hands moved over his abdomen to the hem of his shirt, running them under you could feel his skin, the muscles of his abdomen tensing up at the effort of holding him up. You grabbed on the hem of it and moved it up his body, signaling for him to take it off. He lifted himself momentarily off of you and removed it, moving back down to kiss you, when his mouth left yours and he moved to your neck you opened your eyes to admire his shoulder and his back, from this angle you could see the curve of his ass through his pants.

Your hands ran down his back, feeling his skins, his muscles, while the hand on your thigh started to move up, slowly as he worked harder on your neck. His fingers felt the softness of your skin, moving higher until they reached your hip. Once his fingers grazed over your hip bone, the realization that you didn’t have any underwear on made his cock twitch in his pants as a growl escaped him against your skin. His hand moved up the side of your stomach, until it reached your breast, squeezing it softly and grinding his hips into you out of pure need to feel you, to get some relief. He was making you a mess but he was a mess himself, desperate for some friction.

His hand moved back down, grabbing the hem of the sweater and lifting it over your body, exposing you completely to him. He threw the piece of clothe somewhere behind you and moving back down to kiss you, his mouth running lower to your breast, kissing the soft skin of one while his hand caressed the other, you were so soft, so delicious. He was going to explode in his pants if he didn’t go inside of you soon.

Your hands found the button of his pants, opening them slowly. His hand helped yours to remove his pants, getting his briefs out of the way too letting his cock free. He kissed you while his hand moved to your thigh, running up to your ass, squeezing it roughly and opening your leg to fit himself in between, he was too desperate to wait much longer, his hand moving down to feel you, the moment his fingers grazed your entrance and felt how wet you were he almost came.

Moving his cock to your entrance he moved it through your folds, letting you soak his head before he positioned it against your entrance, pushing slowly to let you adjust since he hadn’t stretched you beforehand with his fingers. When he was halfway inside he broke the kiss, growling into your mouth at the way you squeezed him, making his whole self vibrate of pure pleasure.

Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, scratching down his back when he was fully inside of you, scratching him down while you took a moment to adjust to his size. He started moving slowly, going almost all the way out before thrusting back in again, making you moan and move your head back, he felt so good and full. His hand found your leg and he hooked it over his hip, giving him a better angle to enter you.

His hand rested on your waist, holding you in place while you squirmed under him, his half lidded eyes taking in your face as you moaned for him, it was taking all of him not to snap his hips against yours at full speed and fuck you into oblivion, he shouldn’t want to come this fast into it but you were maddening him. He moved to your neck, kissing you and marking your skin, making you get closer, while he speeded up his movement, holding your leg higher up his hip and squeezing it harshly. His body started to vibrate, not being able to contain the excitement of his fast approaching orgasm and every time his hips connected to yours the vibrations would go straight to your clit, making you arch your back into him. You were close, so close, feeling the knot tightening up in your stomach.

He felt himself about to come, moving deeper as his hip connected to yours, feeling you tighten around him as your orgasm hit you, making him feel impossibly tight. His hand moved to your chin, keeping you in place as he watched you come, your eyes half lidded staring into his red glowing eyes as he tried to keep his face from breaking down while he came, failing miserably as he came deep inside of you, closing his eyes and opening his mouth while throwing his head back.

Once out of your high he switched you, letting you lay on top of him while he played with your back, both of you looking at the fire while you grew sleepy, soon falling asleep on his chest.

[falling-pages]

Let me be your strength: MoriHaru

I transcribed this at 2 a.m., so it's not edited nor well put-together. But I liked it and thought it was cute, and there is not nearly enough MoriHaru content. Shoutout to @ohshcscenerios for listening to me cry about this AND for making the mood board!!!!

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Summary: When the pressures of life threaten to snap Haruhi like a twig, she learns to fall into the arms of an old friend.

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(AKA me thirsting over Takashi for 4k words)

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Takashi Morinozuka x Haruhi Fujioka

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Talk of terminal illness

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It wasn’t the champagne that made Haruhi lightheaded or twisted her stomach into knots, but she refused her second glass and sent the waiter away with a polite wave. The heat from the throngs of crowded pressed down on her, though the space was large and cool. She wished she could move outside, but the unbearable heat of a summer evening kept her clinging to her cold glass of water and air conditioning.

She dabbed at the sweat lining her brow, threatening to wash out the makeup Renge had so carefully applied. Haruhi rarely wore it, and when she did Renge always did it for her. They usually stuck together at parties, but she had slipped away as soon as they walked inside. For that, Haruhi couldn’t fault her--the ball was to celebrate hers and Tamaki’s engagement, after all.

The foundation was sticky in her pores, thick eyelashes framing her vision. She was too hot, too tired, too shifty. She tried to enjoy the party, but the source of her discomfort roared deep inside.

“Hello, Haruhi.”

She jolted, briefly, at the voice, so locked up in her thoughts she didn’t even notice the man approach her. Her old classmate towered above her, but his presence was welcome.

“Hi, Mori,” she sighed, leaning into the shadow he cast. Her skin cooled, but her heart burned at how close he was. “It’s nice to see you.”

Mori chuckled, eyes aglow with mirth. Or maybe alcohol, she couldn’t really tell. She had spent the last few minutes searching for anyone she knew at the ball, and it had seemed everyone was classily drunk on their wealth and drinks. It only added to her longing to go home, the guilt lodged in the back of the throat.

How could she be at a party when her father was so sick at home?

“Same to you,” her friend replied. His silver eyes raked down her body, taking in her dress, her makeup, her hair. His glance didn’t feel perverted, though, nor unwelcome. More like an artist working his eyes over a classic masterpiece. “You look very beautiful.”

Haruhi blushed magenta. Renge had worked her magic, lining her eyes and brushing pink wax against her lips, transforming the tired law student into a high-society lady for a night.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding his gaze, despite every nerve telling her to look away. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

Mori inhaled. He blinked, washing his eyes anew, forcing the bourbon out of his system. He needed to see her straight, and he looked. He looked carefully. Dutifully. Rolling something over in his mind. “On you?” he answered. “Never.”

Haruhi sucked her tongue and smiled, letting herself feel beautiful, letting her insecurities dissipate under his gaze. “You know, this is all Renge’s work,” she explained. “The makeup, and we went dress shopping together.”

Mori grunted, envisioning it a precursor to wedding dress shopping Renge would surely drag her to in the upcoming months. He had to admit, the young lady did a great job -- the light green stitching against the pale yellow silk made Haruhi look like a flower in spring.

“We had to lock Tamaki in the house to keep him from coming with us,” Haruhi continued. She joined Mori’s laughter. “He still thinks of me as a doll he can dress up and play with.”

“Would you rather he had gone with you?”

Haruhi considered, squinting her eyes. “I’m not sure if he would have calmed her down or just doubled the madness.”

“Calmed her down, doubled your madness.”

“Yeah.”

“Mm.”

They shared an easy smile before Mori stepped away, by her side, to scan the crowd. Tamaki and Renge were sitting at a table overflowing with wine and hors d'oeuvres, chatting as he fed her a bit of cheese on a cracker. Both of them, likely drunk out of their minds, fell into laughter as he missed her mouth, snapping the cracker against her cheek.

“They’re good for each other,” Haruhi mused, not bothering to hide her wistfulness. “The king of excessive compliments, and the queen of backhanded ones.”

Mori noticed the lilting quirk in her voice, veering on the slight edge of jealousy. He grunted again, prompting an explanation.

“While we were getting ready, I asked her if it were too much,” Haruhi said. She sipped from her water glass, swallowing delicately. “I didn’t want to outshine the bride-to-be at her own engagement party. And you know what she said? She said, ‘Don’t worry, you don’t outshine me.’” This time Haruhi was the one to grunt, indignation crossing lines on her forehead. “Maybe she didn’t mean it like that. Maybe she meant something nice in French and it just came out bad in Japanese.”

Mori stayed silent as a waiter approached them with a tray of champagne. He reached for a flute, raising his eyebrows in a silent question to her, but she shook her head, and he refused as well.

“It’s strawberry.”

Haruhi perched her lip in question.

“The champagne.” He finished his bourbon, setting the glass down on a nearby stand. “They did that for you. They remembered you like strawberries.”

Haruhi briefly smiled, but took another sip of water. “That’s kind of them.”

Mori noticed the way she gripped her drink, the way she stared at the happy couple with blacked-out pupils. She couldn't be jealous of them individually, he knew. But of them as a couple? As a concept? Of their happy smiles?

He wanted to tell her she could outshine a thousand suns, that the golden shimmer on her cheekbone reminded him of a fairy queen, that in the lightness of her skin she could have trapped the moon. But he didn’t; he raised his fist to his mouth, cleared his throat, and tore his eyes away.

“You’re jealous,” he muttered. “Why?”

Haruhi snapped her gaze back to him. He had always been able to read her like a book, a riddle solved without explanation as the others stood scratching their heads. He looked back down at her, seeing how small she really was beside him. Confusion stirred in her deep eyes.

“Are you not?” he repeated.

She tore his eyes away from his, feeling movement in her chest. The terrifying ordeal of being known. She knew the champagne wasn’t the cause of her stomach knots, this time, either; rather, the smell of his cologne, strong and musky, left her lips parted in silent contemplation.

“I am,” she confessed. The drink weighed heavily in her hand. “They’re so carefree. There’s not a thought behind those eyes. They’re happy and don’t have stress or law school or a sick parent at home they should be caring for right now--”

Mori took the glass from her hand and set it on the table before stepping in front of her, bowing and extending his hand. She paused her rambling, just now noticing the change of music into a love song and the couples thronging onto the dance floor.

“Haruhi,” Mori said, “may I have this dance?”

Without hesitation she slipped her hand in his, allowing him to lead her onto the floor.

Just that little bit of touch sparked an inferno in his lungs, and he strained against the desire to just wrap her in his arms and whisk her away.

Once they floated to a free space, he took her right hand clasped in his left and took her waist with the other, spreading his fingers over the soft bodice of the gown.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Haruhi gasped, nearly euphoric at the feeling of his strong hands on her. She had been alone for so long that she didn’t even realize how touchstarved she was until his thumb rolled over her knuckles. Like it was right, like it was the only thing that mattered.

Mori led her in a waltz, guiding her clumsy feet with his experienced steps. He was a man so prone to the wild that she had nearly forgotten he was raised in aristocracy, trained and learned in all things fine and elegant. He probably learned this waltz as soon as he could walk.

And yet he held her with firm hands, looked at her with gentle eyes, softly correcting her mistakes without annoyance, only a speck of amusement playing in the upturned smile on his lips. He was in control, and this dance was the only thing she didn’t have to stress over. It made her want to fall into his arms and have him take care of everything else, too.

She noticed, too, his handsome features, as there was nowhere else to look but his face. He was taller now than in their youth, a broad-shouldered man of 26, heady and well-established and strong. She thought him too tall and muscled to be a graceful dancer, but she had forgotten he was a hunter, a fighter, a swordsman at his core. His suit, dark green and black, barely clung to his athletic frame. He was absolutely massive compared to her. Gone were the lanky, tall boy and flat-chested girl that once walked Ouran’s halls. Now they were man and woman at their peak.

She wondered how he had not found a wife yet, then wondered how she had never noticed him before.

He noticed, too. Every girlish feature he had adored in high school matured into ones of a woman mother nature scorns. When his fingers brushed her ribcage, she turned her attention back to his face. He was looking at her with the same intensity, but not the same recognition, like he was seeing something he had always known. His nose was noble, lips full, jaw sharp as his eyes. But what caught her attention was the scar, white against his tan face, jutting through his left eyebrow. It had healed long ago, the result of a kendo accident his first year of college, but the hair of his eyebrow never grew back correctly. The scar was turned and jilted and railed against the puckered skin, so untameable that Mori had stopped trying.

But Haruhi thought it suited him. The man could outrun the wild, but the wild would always catch up to him. The bit of evidence that he was more than what his last name got him.

Suddenly, she wanted to touch it. She had never felt the urge before; she barely noticed it, to be honest, and would never disrespect her friend like that.

But then again, he had never held her so intimately before.

Before she could, Mori cleared his throat. He had waited until she was settled in the dance to question her further, but she was staring so intently at him that he kept quiet. Had he been less tan, she would have seen him blush.

“What else is going on,” Haruhi?” he asked, turning slightly to avoid bumping into another couple.

She took a breath, disappointed that her reprieve had ended. She enjoyed looking at him. If he allowed it, she would have all night.

“You know, my dad,” she said simply, and Mori nodded, pulling her closer. Feeling his hand squeeze her made her woozy. “He’s still so sick. Not getting any better, not getting any worse. Just on the verge of needing someone to care for him at all times.”

Mori nodded again, chin hovering above her head. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you.” Haruhi did not miss the singular I. “Kyoya has been gracious with paying for the medical care, and for the nurses staying at our house. You all have done enough. Truly.” She looked up at him and did her best to smile, but even she knew he wouldn’t believe it. “It’s just so difficult because he needs care 24/7. So I feel guilty about going to class, guilty about sleeping, guilty about being here.” Her steps and voice faltered, eyelids fluttering to avoid tears. “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, tugging her hands away from him. “I should be at home, with him. He needs me--”

She tried to turn around, but Takashi grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, shuffling so she could look into his eyes. Her gaze wandered just above them--to his scar, he was sure--but he shook her very slightly, very gently, like waking a baby. “Haru,” he whispered, taking the liberty of a nickname. Her eyes flashed in pleasure, in a memory, bright with tears and charm. But her bottom lip trembled.

“You deserve a break,” he said, using his strength against her for the first time, making her look at him, to hear every word he spoke. “You have done so much. You have suffered so much. You deserve a break.”

Haruhi tried to fight him, but it was useless--he was right, and he was here, willing to provide it. Beneath her anger, beneath her sadness, there was just exhaustion, burning like a bed of red-hot coals, and she was dangling just over the edge of it, so close she could feel the hellish fumes on her face. They drew smoke up her nose, wracking coughs through her chest, burning and blistering her palms as she clung to the rope just barely keeping her alive.

Either the rope would snap, or she would.

Her father had depended on her ever since she was a child, and she had no choice but to claw her way up the frayed thread. But now her lungs burned, her fingers bled. All she wanted was rest.

She had to drop sometime.

A warm hand on her shoulder roused her back, and she looked into her friend’s steel gray eyes, now warm and pooling like molten lead. When his fingers glided along her cheek, she realized she had been crying, and wiped away the tears. He didn’t speak, only caught the ones she missed.

“I’m not strong enough,” she whispered. Her mouth twisted into neither a smile nor grimace, but a ghostly combination of both. “They were right. I’ll never be like my mom, I’ll never be good enough.” Her exhaustion poured over her in buckets, weak knees finally giving in, stumbling forward into Mori’s chest. He caught her without reservation; he had since the moment they met, and he always would.

He was strong enough to stay still when she fell, propping her back up and sheltering her against him, within his arms. He held her fastly, tightly, as she cried, nine years worth of pining and love for the taking, manifesting in front of their very eyes.

He knew how difficult it was. He had just graduated from the same law school only months prior, had the same professors and took the same classes. He himself barely scraped through at times. Even though he had given her his old books and notes, she struggled--and no wonder, having to constantly take care of her father.

“You’re right,” he said against the shell of her ear. She shivered, and he ran a hand up and down her back to soothe her. “You’re not like your mother. She ever had to carry the burden you do.”

Mori saw the weights tied to her feet, dragging her over the edge. She was going to slip, and soon--she couldn’t continue the facade of strength when she barely slept at night, barely processed her mornings over coffee, barely found the motivation to shower and brush her teeth when all she wanted was to sit at her father’s side and cry.

Maybe she thought she was concealing it well, but he was a Morinozuka, trained and battle-hardened and able to pinpoint weaknesses. He didn’t want her to hide from him.

A cold hand wrapped around Haruhi’s heart, and she pressed further into Mori’s chest. Then she realized herself and flung back, cheeks reddening at her boldness.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, Mori, I forgot my place,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on his very expensive shoes.

“No, no, Haru, no,” he said, scrambling for words. He cursed his silent nature. “I’m not going to let you fall. You are safe with me. I am never going to let anything happen to you.”

For a man whose strategy was always holding his cards close to his chest, he threw them down, baring his heart and soul to her mercy, desperately, as he tried to comfort her. He bent down, awkwardly long limbs sufficient in holding her, pressing her head to his chest. Her shampoo smelled so sweet, like the cherry blossoms waving just outside, and she felt so small curled up in his protective embrace. It sparked a heat in his knuckles, anger in his heart.

No one so sweet and good should have to suffer like this.

When she was ready, she moved away from his chest, accepting his willing hand wiping away her tears and the handkerchief in this pocket to hide behind until she regained her composure. Her makeup was ruined, and her hair was in disarray, but Mori thought she had never looked more beautiful than under his arm, pressing her cheek against his hand, chasing his comfort.

As soon as she smiled at him again, he took her hand and spun her back into the waltzing position. Mori built up the confidence to speak again.

“Is it alright if I call you Haru?”

A blythe smile. Pink tinged around her ears. “Yes.”

“Good.” He swallowed. “Haru, you are strong, and beautiful. It breaks my heart to see you like this. If you need to lean on someone, lean on me. Let me be your strength."

A fluttery sigh escaped her lips. “Okay.”

Mori nodded, leading her quickly back into the dance. Amazing, how many songs could be waltzed to. His agile feet knew them all by heart, so he could bask in the young lady’s presence.

Their eyes met periodically, blushes exchanged, and then gazes wandered. His traveled to the dance floor, landing on Tamaki and Renge.

They danced like two fools in love--which they were, obviously. Clumsy, falting steps, swathed in each other’s arms, mouths colliding in mismatched kisses and loud laughter. When he read their lips, he saw them chattering away in French. He saw the light pouring into each other’s eyes, both of them the sun pouring warmth through the window of the other’s soul.

He saw the way Tamaki’s bride-to-be looked at him, and wondered if the woman in front of him would spare him the same glance.

“You’re jealous,” Haruhi said suddenly. “Why?”

He turned to look at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Why did she use his own words against him?

She hid her smile behind her hand. “Are you not?”

He rolled his eyes, taking her firmly by the waist, as her hand returned to his shoulder.

“If you must know,” he muttered, twirling her under his arm, smiling as she giggled, “I am jealous. Because Tamaki has a beautiful lady in his arms, whom he loves, and who loves him, whom he can kiss and woo whenever he pleases.”

The orchestra suddenly roared, or maybe it was the blood in his ears when he noticed Haruhi’s hand tense in his. But, at least she didn’t drop it. She spun back into his chest, clinging to his shoulder like her grip would imprint on his suit. And when she looked at him, eyes bright and wide and full of wonder, he saw the knowing glint within.

She cocked her head aside. Her steps slowed, and she looked at him, running her eyes up and down his body as if just now realizing how long they had been dancing together.

“And you long for that?” she asked.

Mori sighed, ears pricking as the music ended. He let her go and bowed, assuming her wariness a rejection. Parallel to the floor, at least, gave him time to hide his face, regain his composure, mask the pain flowing quickly to his hands.

“Yes,” he sighed. And then, throwing all decorum out the window with a cracking toss of the head and a to hell with it for social commentary, he spoke again. “I long for it the way a bird longs to fly. And it makes me jealous of them, because I, too, had a beautiful lady in my arms, whom I love most dearly, whom I also wish to kiss and woo, but I do not know if she loves me back.”

His heart rose in his throat, and he gasped as he uttered the last words, oxygen leaving his lungs and brain at the sight of her chewing her lip. She had likely never heard him speak so many words at once. But they had clouded his mind. He had lived with them for nine years, pushed them down beneath the surface even as they slithered and crawled around in the form of blushes on his cheeks and pats to her head.

Finally, she spoke. They had stood there for an eternity, watching the other breathe. Wondering whose heart would give out first.

“Well,” she whispered, stepping forward and taking his hand, “she does.”

And then she pressed herself on her tiptoes and kissed him, just in time of the climax of the new song, in beat with the swells of strings and cymbals and trumpets, forgetting, momentarily, where they were. Takashi didn’t forget, but he couldn’t have given less of a damn. He turned off his practiced decorum, the polite manners of the aristocracy, all he had ever known, and kissed her like a man starved. Like she was his last meal, like he was poisoned and she was the antidote. It was Tamaki and Renge’s ball, yes, but he, too, deserved to be selfish for the first time in his life.

Haruhi knit her brows in concentration. His body was so hard, rough and solid and muscled from his years of training, but his lips were soft. Even harder were his practiced hands as they clung to her waist. They bunched the dress, moving and touching and exploring, and it reminded her of some exploring she also wished to do.

Without breaking the kiss, her hand wandered from his shoulder to his jaw, threading in his hair, before landing at his temple stroking the fine hairs of his eyebrow. But she hesitated. Even as her tongue was in his mouth, she was nervous.

When her fingers brushed the scar, he grunted. Though it was muffled by her mouth, the shame filled her stomach. She moved her hand back to his hair, but he grunted again, pulling just inches away to see the mortification hollowing her pupils. He pulled her hand forward, pressing a kiss to it, and replaced it where it belonged. He clutched her closer, watching in amusement as she touched as she pleased. The scar was rough and tattered, like the rest of him, but it distinguished him from the fine elegance of the ball.

She never cared for fine elegance, anyways.

Mori leaned down to press a softer kiss to her swollen lips. Haruhi’s stomach twisted into knots. How this force of nature could love her so tenderly was beyond her.

But when the song ended all too soon, he took her hand and led her to a table, snagging a glass of water for her. He whispered her name, his voice the soft type of strong that made her feel safe. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to call you mine.”

Haruhi’s mouth filled with cotton. She cautiously moved her hands up his chest, circling the knot of his tie.”Mori…”

“Call me Takashi, please,” he said, reaching down to hold her face. His thumb swiped gently over her lips, seeing how flushed and full they were. “Or you can call me Mori, or anything else you wish. It only matters to me that it comes from your lips.”

She gave off a sigh, a damp, fluttering sound from the back of her throat. “Yes,” she cooed, breathless. “Yes, Takashi, yes.”

At her perfect annunciation, Takashi swept her into his arms, lifting her high into the air, almost like the first time in Music Room Three, but this time she was smiling, and laughing, and maybe it was the candlelight and stringed musicians that made him feel so romantic, but he thought he could see forever in the way her glistening tears met her smile.

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[august-bleeds-red]

Tag Team

In which the AFAB!Reader discovers what Bo and Vincent can achieve when they work together.

Dedicated to the fabulous @quiveringdeer for being my sounding board and general awesome human, and to the absurdly talented @thesightstoshowyou for igniting my love for these boys with her phenomenal writing!  ❤️ NSFW under the line.  

You know you’ve been in the Sinclair household too long when you can identify the person behind you by how they grab your ass.

 “Bo,” you sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the smug bastard smirking at you. You’ve been cleaning almost all afternoon, sweeping and scrubbing under the kitchen units, and the stove is your final task before you allow yourself some rest. “Really? Right now?”

 “Hell yeah right now,” he chuckles, smoothing a large hand over your jeans-clad ass cheek. “You’re puttin’ on too much of a show here for me to wait, darlin’.”

 Setting down the dishrag you’ve been scrubbing the stovetop with, you wipe your hands on the ratty old T-shirt you’re wearing and turn to face him. You can’t lie – even after all these months, he’s still more than a little intimidating to you. Six-foot-one of sinewy red-blooded Louisiana male, leering down at you like a fox cornering a baby rabbit.

 “Now, what made you think I was interested in seein’ your face?” he says, gripping your hips and swivelling you back round to face the stove. He’s undoing the button on your jeans when a shadow falls across you from the doorway. You both turn to see Vincent staring at the two of you. He’s dressed casually, meaning in clothes that aren’t caked in wax, his long hair pulled back in a messy ponytail at his neck.

 “Little busy here,” Bo warns.

 Vincent looks to your face, already flushed with expectant arousal.

 It’s my turn, he signs.

 “Fuck off it’s your turn,” Bo snorts. “Go on, get.”

 But Vincent’s not budging this time. Three long strides and he has his hands on you, jerking you from Bo’s grip and pinning you to his chest.

 “The fuck?” Bo looks genuinely annoyed now. “Y’think you can just barge in here and blue-balls me?”

 You groan in exasperation. Usually this kind of She’s Mine play would have you feeling hot under the collar, but it’s been a long day. “Look, one or both of you just do it or let me get back to work, okay?”

 A thread of silent communication seems to pass between the twins, and Bo’s lip curls mischievously. “You want front or back?” he asks.

 Vincent holds his hand out flat in front of his face and moves it downwards to his chin.

 Bo shrugs. “Fine by me.”

 Before you can so much as question what’s happening, Vincent hauls you up and over his shoulder, carrying you like a sack of potatoes to the ancient shag-pile rug in front of the TV. Setting you down, he quickly pulls off your T-shirt while Bo tugs at your jeans. You step out of them almost automatically, the cogs in your weary brain piecing together what’s about to happen. Forcing you to your knees, the brothers both unbuckle their belts.

 “Eldest first,” Bo grins, grabbing a fistful of your hair and guiding you to his waiting erection. Your mouth opens automatically and you take him inside, bracing yourself against his thighs as he drags you back and forth along his length.

 “Ahh yeah, that’s it, baby.”

 Knowing what’s expected of you, you scramble blindly for Vincent, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking it. He lets out a rasping moan and thrusts into your loose grip. Bo allows you to break free and you turn your attentions to Vincent, sucking on him until he’s rock hard against your tongue. You’re vaguely aware of Bo rummaging for something in a nearby drawer, and when your eyes focus on the blue bottle he unearths you realise “front or back” was not referring to Vincent in your mouth and Bo in your pussy.

 “Wait—” You try to pull away, try to stand, but Vincent already has a hold of you.

 With a strength that always manages to surprise you, he drags you down to straddle his hips, one hand already on his cock, nudging the tip at your slit. Despite your disquiet at the way Bo is approaching leisurely from behind, you can’t stop the moan that falls from your lips as you’re impaled on Vincent’s impressive girth. He may be the quieter of the twins, but he’s by no means merciful – not with his victims, and not with your body. You thank stars for the natural lubrication of your arousal that allows him to penetrate with little resistance, the sting of the stretch lasting only a moment before the warmth of pleasure blankets you. Vincent’s hands settle on your waist, easing you slowly – but firmly – down, until your thighs meet his hips. You unconsciously push upwards as he lifts you, chasing that spark of bliss that curls through your lower belly. Vincent’s thumbs paint patterns in your skin, hips thrusting to meet your downward strokes. You cry out, palms flat against his chest, the muscles in your legs burning with the effort to keep elevated.  

 “Room for one more?” Bo’s liquor-smooth voice murmurs in your ear, and you feel the straps of your bra ping loose. Throwing the offending undergarment aside, Bo cups your breasts and squeezes hard. You gasp and he claps one hand across your mouth, slipping two thick fingers inside. You taste traces of engine oil and tobacco, the smoky-sweet scent you’ve come to associate with him. Combined with the aroma of wax and clay that clings to Vincent, you’re deliciously trapped in a cloying fog of aphrodesia.

 Releasing your mouth, Bo’s hand traces the curve of your spine, pressing between your shoulder-blades to force you into a more accessible position. Your heart pounds and you glance anxiously over your shoulder at him. His eyes glint wickedly back at you, one hand stroking his cock with obvious intent.

 “Bo,” you whisper. “Please. . .”

 “Please what, baby-doll?” he purrs.

 “Don’t hurt me.”

 “Now why would I do a terrible thing like that?”

 He rubs the tip of one finger, wet from your mouth, against your rear hole; Vincent slows his thrusts to a slow, crawling pace, just enough to keep the fire lit. You squirm as Bo’s digit pushes past the tight ring of muscle, the intrusion not big enough to hurt, but enough to feel unusual. When he adds a second finger, however, you flinch.

 “Aw, too much?” You can hear the gleeful grin in his voice. Pushing both fingers in to the second knuckle, he splits them into a V, stretching you in preparation. You guess you should be thankful he’s giving any at all. You feel strangely empty when he pulls them out, but only for the briefest moment before you feel something bigger take their place. Vincent falls still as a figurine, his one sky-blue eye watching your face intently. Reaching between your bodies, he rubs the fore and middle fingers of one hand against your clit, sending a hum of pleasure murmuring through you to counteract what’s happening behind.

 “Oh fuck, baby,” Bo grits his teeth as his cockhead disappears inside you. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

 By the time he’s fully sheathed, you’re trying to remember your name. You’ve never felt so full as you do now, you would go so far as to say . . . complete. Vincent drinks in your kaleidoscope of expressions like a man dying of thirst; the holy sequence of pain and pleasure that crosses your face more beautiful than any art he could create alone. He gives an experimental thrust and you see Heaven. When the brothers begin moving together, you can just barely cling to your sanity. The warm, soothing ecstasy from Vincent integrated with the sharp, gratifying pain being served to you by Bo takes you to a new plane of experience.

 “Y’like that, huh?” Bo threads his fingers through your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck. “Y’like being stuffed like a little slut?”

 “Nng . . . uhh . . .” Your tongue feels too big for your mouth.

 “Say it,” Bo licks a long stripe up the side of your neck. “Tell us what you are.”

 “I-I . . .” the tempo of the two of them inside you sends lights popping before your eyes. “I’m— I’m a slut.”

 “And who owns your pretty little pussy?” He deals a sharp slap across your ass cheek. “Who does this ass belong to?”

 “You!” You’re almost sobbing, your pleasure rising within you like the sun. “Oh God, Bo . . . Vince . . .”

 Bo quickens pace, hips smacking into your ass with ruthless force, and Vincent hand is almost vibrating with the speed at which he’s massaging your clit. Your combined gasps and moans rise in harmony, Bo turning the air blue with lustful curses.

 “Oh god, oh fuck,” you whimper, white heat radiating upwards through your body from where you’re connected. “I’m— I’m gonna cum . . .”

 “That’s it, baby,” Bo grunts, his thrusts evolving into mindless snaps of his hips, jerking so sharply you wonder if you’ll have bruises there tomorrow. “You’re gonna be drippin’ with cum after this. Gonna fill you so fuckin’ full.”

 Your scream must echo to the church when you finally finish, your inner walls pulsating against Vincent’s cock and drawing his own orgasm from him. The warmth of his seed fills you, spilling down your thighs.

 “Gonna cum in your ass,” Bo’s breathing is ragged, you can tell he’s close. “Gonna fuckin’—”

 The sensation of cum shooting deep into your ass is an interesting one, but the wild howl of ecstasy that emits from Bo more than makes up for it. Both brothers are twisted, broken, often cruel, but God if they don’t give you pleasure the like of which you’ve never known; or likely ever will again.

 You collapse onto Vincent’s chest as Bo pulls out of you, unable to keep your balance any longer. Vincent’s softening cock is still inside you, twitching occasionally when you move. Bo staggers to his feet and cups your jaw in his palm, claiming a feral kiss from your dry lips.

 “You’re ours, Y/N,” he says.

 “Yours . . .” you nod dazedly. You think you might pass out.

 Both of you glance down at Vincent. It’s not often that he speaks, but the monosyllabic moments he does are always worth the effort. Lifting his wax mask from his face, he gives his own interpretation of Bo’s signature smug grin.

 “Ours.”

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Sexting with Neighbor!Frankie (starts out as an innocent conversation and then turns absolutely filthy) 😶

oh I've been looking forward to this one!

warnings: some dirty talk (text)

[neighbor!frankie masterlist]

A week or so went by and you still hadn't stopped thinking about the way Frankie kissed you. His lips, his tongue, his taste--it was all still ingrained in your mind. You wanted to do it again badly, but didn't want to seem desperate. He texted you a few times but it never led to more.

That was until tonight.

Your phone buzzed on your bedside table and you already knew who was messaging you.

Frankie: hey u busy?

You: no. what's up?

Frankie: i wanna kiss u again also im a little drunk

You giggled at that and another message came through.

Frankie: u in bed?

You: yeah why?

Frankie: wish i was too

You: in your bed?

Frankie: yeah with u

Your eyes widened at that and your face grew hot.

Frankie: sorry.

You: don't be. i kinda wish you were in bed with me too.

Frankie: then i could kiss u again. i love kissing u.

Frankie: sry. i need to stop drinkin

You: is that all you wanna do in bed with me?

Did you really just send that message? It had been a very long time since you 'sexted' anyone but you hope you don't scare him away.

Frankie: i wanna do more. i dream about u

You: you do? good dreams?

Frankie: dreams i shouldnt be havin.

You: oh yeah?

Frankie: brb gotta walk my friends out

You waited a few moments for him to text you back but when your phone buzzed this time it was more than a text. Frankie had sent you a picture. The angle was a little weird and the picture slightly blurry but he was a little drunk. You could still see him though and that was the important thing.

He was smiling a bit and his hair was slightly messy. He had a flannel shirt on with the sleeves rolled up and jeans that accentuated his lovely thighs. His tummy poked out a little and that made you smile. You were gonna pretend you didn't see the bulge that was oh so obvious.

Frankie: how do i look?

You: you look great.

It was only fair to send him a picture back right? You sat up in bed and took a quick picture for him, making sure it wasn't too much. Though right now you'd send this man any kind of picture he wanted.

Frankie: oh wow. u look so comfy and sexy. i'm gonna tell u something. u promise u won't get mad?

You: promise

Frankie: i think about having sex with u

You dropped your phone to grab a pillow and scream into it. You giggled excitedly then took a few deep breaths to calm down.

You: do you really? and how is it?

Frankie: fuckin amazing. sry. is that wrong? sry. r u mad at me?

You: why would i be mad at you?

Frankie: cuz i said i wanna have sex with u

You: maybe i wanna have sex with you too

You imagined him sitting up straight and gawking at his phone when he got that message. It was time to surprise him a little more.

You: that night we kissed...i wanted more

Frankie: like what?

You: i wanted to climb into your lap and straddle you and feel you against me

He took a while to respond and you wondered if you had creeped him out. Or maybe he had fallen asleep.

Frankie: i bet u feel good. its been so long. i need good.

You: you need good?

Frankie: yeah u know

You did know. Your phone buzzed again and it was another picture. You gasped at the sight of his bare chest and boxer briefs which didn't leave much to the imagination. This man was sending thirst traps and probably didn't even know what that meant. He was beyond handsome. The tipsy little smile on his face was adorable. Your eyes trailed down to his chest, his soft tummy, the happy trail. You were biting your lip.

Frankie: was that inappropriate? u can block me if it was. sry.

You: you're sexy

Frankie: i am? thx. im in bed now too. wish u were layin with me. id kiss u again.

You: i want you to do more than that

Frankie: ill do whatevr u want

The next thing you sent...you had no idea what came over you but it was sent and there was nothing you could do about it now.

You: i want you to fuck me

You couldn't see him but if you could you would've seen him drop his phone on his face. It took everything in him not to roll out of bed and be at your door in a minute flat.

Frankie: i would make love to u

You smiled at that.

You: i'd like that

Frankie: i would tell u how beautiful i think u r while i do. if u want, id let u get on top to show me how u like it

You: you're just fucking perfect, aren't you?

Frankie: far from it. i am horny as fuck for u tho

You: i am for you too. i might have to touch myself

Once again, you couldn't see him but if you could you would've seen that he had beaten you to the punch. Every text from you took him higher and higher and soon he would hit the peak.

Frankie: what r u gonna think about?

You: you and your kisses. i'll look at those pictures you sent too.

Frankie: anything else?

You: you inside of me

That was almost enough for him right there. You knew he said you guys would take it slow but, damn, if this wasn't making it hard.

Frankie: do u wanna make love to me for real?

You nodded your head as if he could see you.

You: yeah i really do

Frankie: let's make it happen

You sat up again.

You: when?

Frankie: whenever ur ready

You were ready right fucking now but you had to control yourself. He had had a few drinks and though he was only slightly drunk, you wanted him to be completely sober when you had him for the first time.

You: soon. i promise

Frankie: lookin forward to it 😘

You sent him another picture. This time you were blowing him a kiss.

You: sleep tight, sexy 😉😘

He had something to take care of first but you didn't need to know that.

Frankie: goodnight beautiful ❤

[bakugous-bbygirl]

~Social media boyfriend~

Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

There needs to be more quarantine stories. Like come onnn we’re all stuck together anyway. That’s why I’m doing the public justice of giving us more fan fiction that’s current to the times. Please enjoy!

Warning: swearing. That’s it really.

Being stuck at home was really getting to everyone and it was pretty clear. From almost finishing your second year to having to do your third year at home. You didn’t even want to know how your hero course was gonna go. But now everyone is online all the time posting things they never would have if they got to go outside more.

You of course followed almost all your classmates on social media. Mostly twitter and Instagram, everything else was a little too much. You had your fair share of classmate followers so your posts were mostly pictures of everyone hanging out or weird selfies you took while half awake.

After reading one too many fanfics you opened Twitter to see a certain profile you liked scrolling through.

You have no clue why Bakugou had followed you one day but you figured it’s the poilte thing to follow back. After scrolling for an hour though you had pretty much summed up all of his account into a few words

Self centered music guy.

A lot of his tweets were just pictures of himself flexing in his mirror or screenshots of whatever his playlist consisted of with aggressive captions telling people to fuck off or listen to the song. Those pictures of his arms though. Ahh those hit differently.

You had a crush on the blonde since you started your first year however you didn’t think it shift into you calling him your online boyfriend and making constant tweets about him.

Nothing super obvious just the simple like “why can’t he love me back” or “when he learns I’m real it’s a wrap.” And on Instagram if it’s a cute photo of yourself your caption would consist of something like: “once my online boyfriend learns I’m desperate maybe we could cuddle” you know nothing weird or anything.

After scrolling through his twitter you found a old tweet that actually made you laugh. Like it was something actually funny. You figured kiri got ahold of his phone and posted it before Bakugou blew him up. It was a picture of Bakugou on his floor fixing his Grenade bracers with the tweet “he looks so cute all focused!”

You accidentally tapped the like button and didn’t even realize how weird that would’ve looked as you swiped out of the app. You went to your messages to text Mina since she always kept you busy durning these lonely days. “Hey crackhead you up yet? It’s almost 3 in the afternoon”

she replied pretty quick asking how you were and if you wanted her to FaceTime you. And who were you to turn down a chance to talk to your best friend?

After answering the call mina’s goofy pink face appeared on your screen while it looked like she was laying on her couch. “Hello!!” “Hey Mina.” You couldn’t help at smile how bubbly she is while talking to you. You figured her extroverted personality was put through the ringer being forced to stay at home. “Soooo how have you been? I see your keeping your social media pretty up to date with your creepy obsession with your online boyfriend?” You hold up your middle finger as you see her laugh “it’s not creepy. It’s the same as liking a famous person. You guys just don’t get to know who he is.” “Ooooo so he’s famous? That makes it totally normal.” You rubbed at your neck moving the phone from your face so she can’t see the Blush. “Well, kinda, not really, sorta..” you then noticed your phone vibrating that you got a new notification. “Oh hold up, I wanna check this.” “Oh no just ignore me as I try to find out who it is you love so much. I would really like to know someday” you waved her off with your hand going to your home screen, “you will one day. Hush up now.” You scrolled to the top of your screen to see your notifications and saw it was from twitter and it was someone wanted to message you, you played it off as Mina or one of your friends wanted to mess with you about a tweet you made early in the day or something. “What’s the point of messaging me when we’re on the phone?” You went back to the call to see Mina tilting her head like a bird “what do you mean? I didn’t message you?” “Oh, I figured it was you sending me something stupid on twitter. Lemme see who it is then.”

You opened twitter while half way listening to whatever story Mina felt like telling at that moment and noticed the message was actually Bakugou saying “what the fuck” “Oh it’s just Bakugou. Weird he normally doesn’t send me anything” you opened the message just as Mina said “maybe it’s him telling you what you tweeted was dumb or pointless? That’s normally what he does to me.” You laughed and saw he had sent a screenshot of a notification he got from you like a tweet from legit a year ago. You almost died. “Ahhhhhhh shit I gotta go minathanksforcallingbye!” And flat out hung up in her face. You couldn’t believe you were dumb enough to like the tweet. Why didn’t you notice? God you were stupid.

And what’s even worse you already opened the message and he could see you already read it so In a panick you just typed out some half ass reply acting as if you were confused “what? I didn’t do anything to you” you then texted Mina explaining how weird he probably thinks you are. “sooo Bakugou is mystery your online boyfriend and you got caught totally creepin?” You face turned red as you replied “I never said he was my crush!” “you posted on Instagram yesterday that sometimes you scroll through his account and read his old tweets. Get busted y/n.” You threw you phone away from you on the table and layed Your head into your pillows.

You were so caught. Almost all your tweets and posts from the last few months were you thirsting over this boy and showing how lonely you are durning this quarantine. You wouldn’t be so embarrassed if it was someone you were closer too, Like kirishima or denki. The fact Bakugou barely spoke with you durning your time in classes made it feel even weirder. How could you be so dumb to forget your one rule of being a simp. No liking old posts or tweets. Just saving the photo depending on what it is. That rule just got tossed out the window as you pushed your face tighter into the pillow. No way was he gotta think your cute or whatever after this.

The sound of your phone going off got your attention and you reached for it slightly hoping it was Mina with a way to get you out of this. However it was the dreaded online boyfriend messaging you again. “Don’t play dumber than you are dumbass. The fuck is with you liking my old tweets” You really didn’t have the best response so you came up with the best you could. “Mina had my phone. Sorry she was being weird.”

That was so dumb. You both knew good and well that no one was allowed to be around each other since this whole virus came out. Could this day get any worse? Yes. Yes it could shut up.

“Try again.” Was all he replied with but you could hear the smug in his voice. Like no way was he gonna not call you out for this. The only times he did speak to you was when he was being an ass and making fun of you. Or when he grabbed your hips and moved you out of his way. You always loved that because his hands trapped your figure so perfectly but decided it was better to keep that to yourself. You were fully ready to admit defeat. There were no more lies you could come up with on the spot. “alright look, I’m sorry if it’s weird. Honest mistake.” This was your last shot to keep your dignity after such a embarrassing day.

It actually took him a while to reply. You figured he was too busy to entertain your contuinus lies until you got a notification from Instagram saying Ground_Zer0 liked your post. You opened the app to see he liked the picture where your caption was you basically admitted you scrolled through his old tweets because he was your online boyfriend. Before your brain could kick you for posting that bold statement in the first place you got two more messages from him. He had screenshotted the picture and caption. “So gonna keep lying like I don’t follow your accounts” Yep. Mina was so right. You were busted. Nothing much was left to be said. You were caught simping on one of your classmates who was aiming to be the number one hero. Just great.

“You gonna reply or what dumbass” Here goes everything. No reason to keep your lies, nothing much to lose.

“Alright so yeah I’ve liked you for a while now, I don’t know what about you makes me like you so much but I always found you really cool. Your so passionate about wanting to do good it’s almost silly how mean you are to everyone. Your not all that ugly either so that helps or whatever.” You confidence found half way through texting him. Not like he could make fun of you to all your friends and school. He doesn’t seem like the guy. Right?

“Oh.” Oh. That’s all he has to say. What the shit. What type of reply is that! Here you are pouring your heart out and that’s all he says back! This was kinda worse than him laughing! You barely got a reaction at all! “So how long have you liked Me” you took a second to think of the least creepy answer, “I mean since the beginning of our second year, why?”

It wasn’t a whole lie. Like since you had liked him the beginning of last year too. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Your emotions were clearly a wreck. From anger to slight confusion and embarrassment. What if he used this against you for real? Like you could never live down how much you really thought about him and wanted to be around him. It was pretty clear since you layed eyes on him you really cared about him.

“Well, I’ve liked you longer so I guess it’s my job to ask your dumbass out”

“Wanna be my girlfriend you weird stalker?”

You legit couldn’t believe it. You rubbed at your eyes for a good five minutes. Was he being serious? Was it a joke? You couldn’t think straight your head was so fuzzy “OI DONT LEAVE ME ON READ DUMBASS!” “If this is a way to make fun of me it isn’t very funny Bakugou.”

It seriously wasn’t funny. You knew for a while he felt nothing back for you, he never liked any of your posts or made much of an effort to even talk to you when you guys did attend school. He was clearly better friends with Mina since she even got messages from him, even if they were insults you would’ve taken what you could get. No way were you setting yourself up any more to get laughed at.

At that moment you got a FaceTime call from a number you didn’t have saved. You had no clue who it was. Against your better judgement you answered figuring that telemarketers don’t make FaceTime calls. What you got was a grumpy looking Bakugou staring at his screen. You could feel his eyes staring through you. You wanted to throw your phone so far it wasn’t even a joke. “Bout time dumbass.” He was layed out on his bed with a black wife beater hanging loosely on his body. You could tell he hasn’t moved from the bed in a while since the sheets and blankets were slightly messed up. “Now tell me. You see anyone else in my fucking room?” You shook your head in a confused manner, what was that question for? “Okay then. So it’s clear this isn’t a fucking joke. I like your dumb ass. Now will you please be my real girlfriend?” You stared at his face for any sort of sign it was still a joke.

But all you got was Bakugou blushing. Wait blushing? Seriously. That’s screenshot worthy. “I..well..w-wait we can’t even see each other?” You heard him grunt as a smirk appeared on his lips “if that’s your way of saying yes ain’t no stupid virus keeping me from kissing you like I’ve wanted to forever now.” “N-no way! You’ll get in trouble! Or sick!” Your face filled with heat as his words flowed so confidently. Like he knew all this time this is everything he’s ever wanted to say to you. “Did you not hear me? No virus is keeping me from you or getting me sick. Just let me say your mine stupid! I won’t fucking ask again.” “Y-yeah! O-okay I’ll be your girlfriend!” Another smirk tugged at his lips. “Damn straight. Alright get ready I’ll be there soon.” After that he hung up.

“Wait what?! Don’t come! Hello? Ah shit.” You still couldn’t really believe that all this really happened. You just got a boyfriend. After accidentally liking his post. From a year ago. Wow. What luck! You opened Instagram to congratulate yourself by posting the screenshot you had snagged but saw that a certain someone had posted a screenshot of you looking all confused durning a FaceTime call.

The ass screenshotted you looking confused after he asked you if anyone else was in his room. You looked at the caption and it absolutely made you turn red

“Thanks for giving me her number pinky.”

P1nky commented “anytime! Get you some!”

You hate your friends. You do love them. But you seriously can’t stand them.

Thank you all for reading so much! Also thank you for the 100 followers! I appciate it a lot and it gives me more reason to keep writing!

[sushiandstarlight]

For a prompt, what about the first time Crowley found out Azraphaile could sense love?

You Will Still Love Me Tomorrow

Read this story on AO3

Aziraphale had dropped his hand as soon as the bus stopped.  Crowley was pointedly not thinking about it.  He didn’t think about it as they took the short walk up to his flat, the not holding hands anymore.  He didn’t think about it as he unlocked his door with a flick of his wrist and invited the angel into his home.  He didn’t think about it as he sauntered past what remained of Ligur, hoping that Aziraphale would ignore the foul puddle, too.

Crowley did such a good job ignoring the fact that they weren’t holding hands anymore that it didn’t even register that Aziraphale hadn’t followed him into the kitchen until he turned around and took visual notice.  He pressed his lips together at the absence, but continued to his goal anyway: unstoppering a bottle of dark red wine and pouring two glasses.  He took a deep breath and carried the glasses as he retraced his steps.

He told himself that having the angel out of his sight was fine.  They hadn’t always been together before.  Long periods of time passed without catching sight of one another.  It shouldn’t be any different now.  But, his heart refused to listen to his brain, instead thrumming away against his ribs.  They’d scarcely made it this far and tonight might be the last night to drink and talk into the wee hours.  He told himself that it didn’t matter, but he knew that every moment of it mattered.

He found Aziraphale amongst his plants in the atrium, though the angel’s eyes were somewhere else.  Crowley understood; he’d had a home once, too, and it had been ripped away from him without his permission.  His heart beat harder in his chest as he contemplated what he had lost in his Fall.  But, also, what he had gained.  It was worth it, every bit of the pain was worth it.  The torment from hell’s other inhabitants was worth it.  All to be here, even up to this moment, side-by-side with his best friend.

“Wine?”  He held one of the glasses out between them and watched as the one quiet word startled Aziraphale out of his thoughts.

“Oh, yes, thank you.”  They both took a deep gulp of wine and didn’t look at one another, examining the plants instead.

“You know...” Aziraphale started, that far away look returning to his eyes even as he looked like he was studying the perfection of the ficus in front of him, “I always thought that maybe they were better at hiding their feelings than I was.”

“They?”

“My fellow angels.”

“Hmm.”  Crowley took another hearty sip, eyes darting from the wine in his glass to Aziraphale and back.

“Before your fall... Oh, is it alright to ask?”

“Sure, angel.  It’s old news.”

“I know it’s not.  But, I’m afraid I’m too curious not to ask.”

“Never one to dissuade curiosity.” Yet, inside he trembled a bit.  Possibly their last night and Aziraphale wanted to know about his fall?  Or before.  He’d said before.  Crowley steeled himself.  If this was going to be their last night, their last chat over wine...  Then he would be as open and honest as he could.  Whatever the angel wanted.  Not that that... was much different than usual, even he could acknowledge that.

“Could you feel love when you were an angel?”

“Nah,” Crowley rubbed at his chin, “can’t say that was ever really one of my talents.  Creation, that was my bag.  Pulling things from the ether.  Real magic.”  There was something pinging around in the back of his brain: a softly sounding siren of warning.  A thought forming, but from far away.

“I always thought that perhaps all the angels I consorted with were better at concealing the love they felt.  I never really understood why, you know?  There’s no need to hide your heart in heaven.  It should be safe there.”

Crowley made an inarticulate noise, unsure how to answer that.

“The truth is, though, that they didn’t love me.  I’m not sure they loved each other, either.  Dare I say, they might not even have loved Her.”

“Likely,” Crowley sighed, drawing closer almost unconsciously, “likely, they only really knew love for themselves and their positions.”  The siren was getting louder, the thought forming but still just out of reach.

“If that.”  Aziraphale swirled the wine in his glass, “But you, you’ve never hidden it.”

“Hidden what?” The siren in his head was nearly deafening now, the other shoe poised to drop.

“Your love.  You’ve never hidden it from me.”

“Ngk?”  Crowley’s fingers went numb as the thought finally coalesced: all this time he thought his feelings had been trapped in his own chest, his own heart, but was it possible... that they had all been laid out at the angel’s feet all this time?  He nearly dropped the wineglass, only thinking to clench it at the last possible moment.  Even so, some wine splashed over the rim.

“On the wall, overlooking Eden, I told you that I had given away my God-given flaming sword.  And you loved me for it.  You hardly knew me.”

“Well, I-” Crowley choked on his own tongue.

“I tried to put it aside, you know.  Demons can’t love, they say.  But, I would run into you again and again and again and it would be there every time.”

Crowley set his wineglass down by the plants.  He wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or pass out, but neither supported his desire to keep a cool demeanor. 

“Your love was always there, bright like any star in the cosmos and warmer than the hearth of home.”

He was definitely getting light-headed.  He sat down on the ledge by the ficus before he lost all dignity and collapsed.  Aziraphale still wasn’t looking at him, despite his continued venture into transparency.

“I daresay, you’ve been more of a loving home to me than heaven ever was.”  And now Aziraphale was looking at him, earnest eyes shining.

Crowley removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the collar of his shirt, meeting Aziraphale’s eyes purposefully because words had utterly failed him.

“I am sorry, dear, that I’ve needed to push you away so many times.  I know,” Aziraphale swallowed hard, “I know I have a lot to make up for as far as that’s concerned.  But, more than that, I’m sorry that you can’t feel how very much I want to be your home, too.”

“You are,” Crowley croaked, unable to hold himself back any longer he reached out his hand and Aziraphale took it in both of his.  Those soft, warm angel hands.  His world stopped spinning sideways, righting itself as the touch grounded him, “you are my home.  Six thousand years, you’ve been my home.  Maybe... maybe before that.  I just didn’t know what was missing.”

“All the same, I wish you could feel it like I do from you.  You don’t know, darling.  It’s like basking in the gentlest sunshine.  Early morning, with all it’s colors and all it’s quiet.  I don’t sleep, but I imagine it feels like waking to a new day.”

Crowley tugged at his hands, pulling him close enough to hug him around the middle.  He peered up at the angel, making sure this was okay.  It was a sight more than holding hands.  Aziraphale moved even closer.  Crowley rested his head against the soft belly in front of him.

“I suppose I could just tell you.”

Crowley squeezed him, again finding himself out of words.

“I love you, Crowley.”  Aziraphale’s fingers had found their way into the soft hair at the back of his head.  Crowley couldn’t breathe and he was, once again, unsure if he was going to start crying, “I love you and I believe in our side- yours and mine.  This will not be our last night together.”

Crowley sucked in a deep breath, holding the angel closer.  He’d said all of that in a way that rumbled and glistened somehow with Truth.  The Truth of an Angel, sent by God Herself.  He wanted to believe in it.  He would believe it.  He didn’t believe in God, outside her existence.  He didn’t believe in Heaven’s angels with their thirst for power and control.  He didn’t believe in Hell, that place could continue to rot.  But, Aziraphale.  He believed in Aziraphale.  Regardless of whether or not he could feel the love he claimed.  He just knew.  His belief in this didn’t need tangible proof, it was written between the lines of six thousand years.

“I expect,” Aziraphale’s hand traveled down his jaw and tilted it so they could meet eyes again, “to feel all of this from you tomorrow.  And all the days after.  Can you promise me that?”

“I promise you, Angel.  We’ll come up with something.”

[unohanadaydreams]

Okay so Komamura tho! He is so big and so so sweet and I just absolutely love the thought of him being all gentle and slow to start out cause he's worried about squishin you or goin too fast and hurting you but once y'all start getting into it and you start begging him 'please please faster, harder' just anything more than his reserved tempo he can only hold out so long before he ends up absolutely feral and just 💞 there's something about that soft to hard switch I really love thinkin bout!!

If kubo didn’t want us to thirst for Komamura, he shouldn’t have made him a 9 foot wolf man with a heart of literal fucking gold!

Features: Smut. Citrus Fruit. 18+ Content.

You were tucked under him with plenty of room to breath. He had you pressed lightly against the floor. Komamura always worried too much--he didn’t trust himself with the bed, where the soft mattress could trap you without breath underneath him. So, you were sprawled out on the floor.

His body was huge over top you, completely sheltering your view from everything unless you tipped your head back to peer upside down at the lone window casting tree dappled moon light over your naked flesh.

A large finger smoothed down the side of your face as you did just that, curling around your jaw, trailing down the length of your neck, and tracing the line of your clavicle, the curved claw scratching lightly the entire way down.

“Sajin,” you said, your voice an airy breath. Hands folding around his big hand, you were mesmerized at the way his large maw opening to expose a wicked row of glistening sharp teeth. Your thighs tried to tighten around his hips, to press yourself closer, but it was hard when his gargantuan frame was too large for your legs to hook around him.

“I want you.” You tried again, squirming and needy as his large hand, big enough to cover the width of your chest, lightly pressed you flush against the floor.

His cold nose came down and huffed the air over you. A rumble sounded in his chest, deep and satisfied as he backed away. Your heart caught in your throat, thudding uncomfortably loud, as he sat on his legs, positioning you.  “You have me,” he said, his head cocking to the side. “Always at your beck and call.”

You wiggled your hips, teasing the tented erection your thighs brushed against in the process. Giving a chuff of laughter, he slide you further up, until your core was flush against him.

That was much better. You smiled brightly and rose your arms straight up above you, your hands making impatient grabbing motions. “I’m beckoning~”

He nipped at your ear lightly while he raised your upper half to cling to him and you squeaked.

You loved how sweet your big wolf man was. How tender and thoughtful he stayed no matter the antics you threw at him. The immovable object to your unstoppable force, really.

No one had to understand why you loved him. Or why you desired him. Because you knew and slowly, thought he was understanding as well--at least some of it.

And as he pushed into you slowly, barely inching in, making you try to squirm down while he held you in an iron grip, your gripped him ring by ring of squeezing muscle.

Every time felt as though you’d never fucked him before. He was huge in every aspect. His red, swollen cock, made you conform to his shape every. single. time.

Your hips circled the farther he got, the pace he was acclimating you at tortuously slow and you keened when the fat middle of him was finally enveloped fully inside of you with with a wet schlicking sound.

He continued to dictate the pace, to your displeasure, your fingers clutching and pulling at his chest fur. It was slow and sweet and lovely but you wanted more.

More of him in you. More of him on you. You didn’t want a simmering pleasure. You wanted him to TAKE you. God, yes. That’s what you’d been wanting.

You whined high in your register, your throat sore from how hard you pushed the sound. “Please, please. Please go faster.” Trying to sound as pathetic as possible was hard. Your eyes were watering from how much you just wanted him to MOVE.

His large hands covering the expanse of your ass and hips and some of your back clutched at you a bit harder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Taking the in, your insistence was quick, spurred on by your gummy passage trying so hard to milk him further in, deeper than he usually allowed. “You wont. You won’t, please. I’ll tell you if it’s too much. Please, Sajin. I NEED you.”

Huffing, the rumbling in his chest returned and his hips canted faster. Hands still clutching at his furred chest, you pressed your arms and chest against him and hummed. “Yes, more. Please. Harder and faster and on top of me,” you said, expressing all your wants in a quick, breathless blur.

He slid deeper with a growl. “-chan,” he warned.

“Please,” you kept on. Kept asking for it until he was laying you back on the floor, still inside of you, and pressing your legs on either side of your chest. 

Looming. He was a predator looming over you, the glittering wet of his toothy maw lowering to trail and test at your neck and shoulder as he started to move.

You choked on your cry as he bottomed into you, so large you could feel your belly bulge with each thrust in.

Another growl and his teeth were poking at your flesh, his large hips smacking against your skin, the fur there wet from how your pussy was positively drooling. Begging for more.

You found your voice and begged more, more fervently. Please more. More of it all.

And his maw snapped over your shoulder, saliva dripping on to your skin as he started a brutal pace, his gargantuan body squishing you against the floor, your breath coming shallow as his weight crushed you flat.

Each thrust made you puff air, your cries vibrating with the rhythm of his thick cock. You came pitifully, whining against him as he bit the intersection of your shoulder and neck with a deep growl.

He kept going and you swore his cock was swelling larger, the bulge feeling more prominent as the narrow tip of him slipped snugly past the soft entrance of your womb.

Your entire body felt molten hot, his damp fur making you sweaty as you squirmed and babbled for more more more.

Your arms were threaded in the fur of his neck, pulling whenever his cock rubbed juuuust right against the spongy g spot on its journey to overwhelm your womb.

Between his thrusting and your spasmodic voice and his constant, deafening growl, you felt as though you were vibrating deeper into the floor, being pressed and overwhelmed until the only part of you that wasn’t trembling and numb was your hypersensitive core.

He thrust deeper still, fully molded into you now, fully sheathed within your greedy pussy each time he humped back into you.

“Breed me please, Sajin,” you keened, barely coherent enough to string the four words together.

A roaring call of ‘MINE’ was his reply as the grip of your burning insides finally slowed his pace with it’s second orgasm, your body trying to arch and squirm as your eyes fully rolled back.

He bottomed out, your pussy tight and clenching in sporadic bursts as you felt each pulsating release of his cum filling you. He filled you completely and past your limit, the thin tip of his cock directly pumping streams of molten cum into your womb, his vibrating growl of mine mine mine mine filling the air.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, how long you stayed pressed against sweltering body.

But when he slowly left you, his entire length no longer filling you past capacity, you felt freezing. Especially when he raised his body, your limbs unfurling and splaying out, your sweat drying cold against your skin as his damp fur no longer blanketed you.

If you hadn’t been boneless you would have immediately chased after him.

Instead you brought your hands up, weakly and bent at the elbows. You whined, a husky broken sound, as your hands made weakly to grab for him.

Reaching for the towel that he’d placed on the bed, Sajin placed it under your legs, lifting your body as he needed, to catch the cooling seed that was leaking from you.

“Are you alright,” he asked. “Truthfully, now.”

You smiled brightly if not a bit shaky. “I’d say I’m good for another round, but...”

Scoffing, he helped to raise you in a sitting position.

“I wouldn’t answer THAT call even if you begged.”

“I don’t know. It worked the first time.”

“You,” he said. “Are spoiled.”

“That’s what happens when you spoil someone once, Sajin. She gets rotten~”

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: My interpretation of "I was a 15-year-old closet case whose parents pretended they didn’t notice when the family dog disappeared".

"A shallow grave. So much less than she deserves. But … I can’t breathe. I can’t even think. I’m running on autopilot and adrenaline alone. Everything is just - I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how I got here. I'm losing control. I can't - I can't even look at her. She's still wrapped in my sheets. I can see her bleeding. I still want it. I still want more.

Carry On Countdown, Day 7 - Animal @carryon-countdown​

Key Info: Inspired by this artwork by one of my fave artists on here @cynopoe​

TW: Slight Emetophobia Warning!! (Non Graphic. Final line of first paragraph, feel free to skip if you're concerned!) & Hemophobia Warning!! (This is a very Vampire-heavy fic, so unfortunately there is frequent mention of blood). I have both these phobias (Lol RIP me) and faint when I see them IRL, but this was fine for me to write so I don't think it should be anything too major. However, everyone's phobias are different so I wanted to give a heads up. Please be aware of these warnings before reading, and feel free to skip over this if it's not for you!

Tags: Heavy Angst, Angst, Biting, Blood Drinking, Mild Blood, Pain, Mordelia Trying To Be A Nice Sister, Baz’s Dog, BASICALLY I’M REALLY SORRY FOR THIS IDK WHAT DEMON MADE ME WRITE THIS, Big Sad,  Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 7

Words: 1,116

Baz

A shallow grave. So much less than she deserves. But … I can’t breathe. I can’t even think. I’m running on autopilot and adrenaline alone. Everything is just - I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how I got here. I'm losing control. I can't - I can't even look at her. She's still wrapped in my sheets. I can see her bleeding. I still want it. I still want more. My hands - I’m trying to dig but they won’t stop shaking. My stomach is churning, sick with the guilt, I have to - I stop and heave once more, the remnants of my crime splattering grimly on the dampened soil. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt her.

 The Change had started a week or so after I returned home from Watford. At first, it was nothing more than a minor irritant - A stinging in the sun, a bone-deep chill. But … it worsened. 

First, came the dryness of my throat. That unceasing thirst no amount of water could quench. And then, came the mind-clouding obsession. My every thought consumed by blood. The steady slog of it through my family’s vessels so distracting that I couldn’t so much as look at them - The people that I loved - without that incessant need to take. Their blood. Their life. Their everything. 

It wasn’t me, not really, but I couldn’t stop it - Couldn’t fight it. Frozen, weak and powerless, my humanity withering away before me as the monster took it’s hold. I didn’t know what to do - Didn’t know who to go to - and so … I hid. 

I thought that if I locked myself away and waited for the initial thirst to subside, that everyone would be safe. That I’d make it through without hurting anybody - Without losing myself. 

I didn’t know much about Vampirism, but I’d been assured that the effects were at their worst on initial onset. If I endured, it would become more manageable. If I bared it, I could live with it. I’d pinned all of my hopes on that promise, but it had let me down. 

Father had a key to my door - An emergency plan. If I needed it, he could lock me in. But I didn’t, I had it under control. I thought that I was alright. That I could make it. No matter how hazy or desperate I became, how thirsty I was, they were safe. Everyone was safe. And then … Mordelia tried to be kind. 

She couldn’t have realised what she was doing. She didn’t know (None of the children did). She just didn’t want me to be lonely anymore. And so … she let Dotty in. 

I tried to get her away from me, tried to get her out of my room. But she thought I was playing, so she just kept running and jumping up at me, tennis ball held happily in her mouth. She was so warm, and I was so weak. All I could see, and think, and feel, and hear was her - Every breath she took, every maddening thump of her heart. I couldn’t escape it. I’d craved it for so long, and here it was, trapped in a room with me. I didn’t - I didn’t mean to do it. I don’t know what happened. One second I was shoving her away from me, and the next, I’d done it. I’d bitten her. 

I’ll never be able to escape the echo of her cries. How she whimpered beneath me, high pitched and betrayed. The fragment of me that remained, screaming, begging it to stop, to just let her go, overpowered by the darkness. By the need.  

I couldn’t let go. I just kept biting and biting and biting, pushing my jaw harder against her flesh. Blood suffocating me with every move, tacky under my nails and dripping from the lengths of my hair. I didn’t even care. I couldn’t care. Finally … I was satiated. 

And so … Here I am. Slathered in mud and crimson, desperately trying to bury my beloved dog in the shallow pit I’ve scraped out of the ground. Trying to forget it. Trying to pretend that this is some sick, perverted nightmare - That I’ll wake up and be me again. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, not whoever did this. Not whatever did this. I cant - I won’t - I don’t …

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

When I make it back to the house, the sun is hanging fire in the sky. 

I don’t know how long it has been since I took her - 4 hours? 5? How many moments have I had to bear it so far? My mind is clearer now, but I’m still lost. It wasn’t me, it was … I don’t know. 

Daphne screams when she sees me, and Father comes racing down the stairs in a panic. I didn’t think about them being awake. I should’ve just waited. I should’ve just stayed hidden. I should’ve just stayed gone. But it’s too late now. He’s pushing her behind his body, shielding her with his presence. Protecting her from me. I can see the realisation dawn on his face as he takes me in - My unmistakably bloodied figure, her yellow-spotted collar still clutched in my muddied hands. Disgust. That’s what I see. Pure, unrelenting disgust at what I’ve done - What I’ve become. 

“Mother, Father, I didn’t - I didn’t mean to. Please, you have to believe me," I’m sobbing, chest rattling as I try to explain - Try to somehow absolve myself of their justified hatred. It’s sick. A truly disturbed little performance. But, they have to know. They mustn't think … “I wouldn’t hurt you - I wouldn’t hurt anybody - Anything. It was an accident. I tried to undo it. I tried to heal her, but my magic wouldn’t come, I was too … I didn’t have enough in me. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t-” 

With a lift of his hand, he silences me. “Go and clean yourself up, Basilton,” he says, voice flat and hollow. “We’ll deal with this later.” 

We won’t talk about it, I know. We’ll act like it never happened. But it did. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on pretending anymore. 

 Later, as I was scrubbing the shame from my body - Watching the whole diabolic night swirl down the plug, as I scoured my tainted skin raw. The reek of Copper and Dirt, poorly masked with lashings of Cedar and Bergamot - I heard the unmistakable locking of my door. A vicious creature finally confined to it’s cell. That final, damning confirmation. My own family - Scared of me. They can’t even trust me not to hurt them anymore (And neither can I). Not like this. Not with what I’ve become. One of them. Crowley, Mother would be so disappointed in me.