#and there goes 50k milestone hehe

[writing-whump]

Okay okay hear me out: matthew getting hurt but he's essentially feeling super isolated and worthless and he doesn't want to bother zaya or seline, doesn't think he should bother anyone tbh. He's also not stupid and while he doesn't know Isaiah/seline are together, he can see something shifted there. Hidden injury escalates to infection and then u know the drill, he ends up feverishly arguing with one of the two or both and then collapsing mid argument, cue much panic and guilt. Wdyt??? 👀👀😅

Ohhh Soup, that is one amazing idea 👀 let's see, let's see! A very delicious prompt, thank you! Had to write it right away.

Hidden injury

The injury wasn't healing.

Matthew didn't know why exactly it wasn't. Most of the time he spend his days tired, and he was very tired that evening from sparring at the gym. And he so happened upon a bunch of wolves.

Kids really. Overconfident and provocative, thinking they could take an older wolf like him.

It was so satisfying to put someone's teeth in the dirt when they deserved it. The adrenaline and then the win overflooded him with sparks of temporary joy and triumph as he dusted himself off, his shadow was eager and happy.

Unfortunately, there were problems that couldn't be solved that easily. Whatever the thing it was at home - this punishment of sorts Seline made - it was way worse. And he couldn't fight his way out of it.

He made preventative measures. He worked on his temper much much more. Isaiah said he saw the improvement. What else did she want?

It was his fault, though. Fear he enjoyed, when it came from annoying people, other wolves or his enemies. A natural thing, really. But he didn't want to feel it from her. Complete and utter betrayal, that's what it was. How could she believe he would hurt her? He wouldn't hurt her even if she did try to fight him. His shadow just jumped up with the emotion and the instinct and...

Yep, it reacted even now, swelling angrily at the memory. But it wasn't her he was fighting, for hell's sake.

Matthew kind of relied Isaiah would talk some sense into her, make it easier. Persuade her to give him a chance to make it up and move on from this.

And something did happen. He felt it did, because from one night to the next, Isaiah was allowed up to the second floor and came down with her smell all over him from then on. They didn't do anything when he was there, and he didn't dare to ask, but something major did occur under that roof.

And not only was he not allowed to know, he couldn't even tease his best friend about making a move or laugh at his only girl friend for finally getting the guy.

This was stupid. It shouldn't be upsetting him so much, but it did and he wondered why the hell he even bothered with people in the first place. Easier to just be alone.

You had no one to disappoint that way.

Matthew headed home, his legs dragging behind feeling like lead.

His side burned. He got clawed there pretty well with one of the shadow claws of the busier kids. It was a small thing, the injury, but bleeding horribly when he put his torn up shirt up and it hurt.

The first sweeping of his shadow took the blood away, though the injury was still visible, open, red and puckered. It didn't heal all the way. Weird.

His shadow was tired, but he figured if he just waited for a few hours he would have enough energy to try again. It wasn't bleeding, it wasn't smelling, it was fine. He threw the torn up shirt away, glad he shook off his pullover down for the fight and saved it from the blood stains.

Maybe he should ask Isaiah if it was normal. Shadows wouldn't heal things, when they were tired, or when it was a serious several weeks to heal thing, or when it wasn't acute but more long-term running or chronic...was there something he was missing?

Isaiah would know. Matthew also didn't feel like asking.

If Isaiah stopped pretending like he was neutral in this tug war of wills, it would be much better. If he wanted to side with Seline and leave him alone to it, who was he to complain?

They were doing him a big favour by giving him a chance in the first place.

He didn't want them to regret anything else they had given him.

Matthew was very happy for the elevator in the building. Usually he could take the stairs, since running them up was great exercise for free, but today he felt dead on his feet.

He found the way to their door almost blindly, opening the door with his shoulder. Grunting a hi was about all the manners they showed each other these days. Why did they even bother?

Was there even a way to escape their rejection? The whole apartment radiated it. From the shut off light in the kitchen, the empty couches in front of the TV, the quiet nonchalant movement behind Seline's closed doors on the upper floor...

Matthew threw his back by the door at their shared room, finding Isaiah on his bed with a laptop in his lap.

"Hey, Matt. You are late," Isaiah said in a friendly voice, observing him.

Matthew rolled his eyes. As if he cared when he was coming home. That time was long over.

He shut the door behind him loudly and the shuffled over to his own bed.

He didn't feel like changing. He didn't feel like saying anything. His side burned, his insides burned, his head was heavy and about to fall from his shoulders and his muscles were screaming with the strain of the day's exercise. Sleep was the only escape that didn't involve anyone dying.

He vaguely registered Isaiah asking him how his day went. Matthew ignored him, threw himself on the bed, wincing inwardly at the pain that flared at the sudden movement and curled up on his side.

Maybe he should have taken some painkillers. Then again, he didn't have any. All painkillers and first aid kits in this house belonged to Seline or Isaiah. They pooled their resources and fields of expertise to the apartment, willing to share, forgetting how to divide things when the sharing wasn't an option anymore.

He didn't want to think about how this was the first time after some time that he actually had people to ask for help and simply couldn't make himself.

Things were so much easier when he was alone.

The oblivion of sleep took him quickly though, saving him from anymore painful thoughts.

***

Matthew woke up to the darkness of the empty room. He could hear muffled voices coming from the living room.

They they actually have a movie night without him now? There was a faint sound of Isaiah saying something and Seline laughing in response.

Oh. Good for them.

Matthew didn't think it was possible, but he actually felt worse than before. While the groginess helped him forget, his side was on fucking hellfire, eating him from the inside.

He pushed himself up on his arms, turning the nightstand lamp on. Forcing himself up into a sitting position was torture. His muscles contracted painfully around his side and his arms were shaking as he attempted to throw his legs over the edge of the bed. One. Two. Slow and painful.

The effort left him light-headed and clenching his teeth to not scream. What the hell was wrong with him?

He grunted, bowing his head against the onslaught of light. His pullover was sticking to him with sweat and he was uncomfortably warm. Was it the rest of the exercise? Should he go shower?

Even tensing up to consider standing felt like a fight not worth the effort.

Matthew slumped back against the bed, giving up. His shadow wasn't even stirring, so he must have still been tired. Best thing to just go back to sleep.

***

"'-thew? Matthew? Hey man, wake up."

Isaiah was shaking his shoulder, jostling him. Matthew grunted in discomfort, turning away from him.

"Come on, man. You slept in, I think. It's already past 9."

Was it? Why was that even relevant? His side burned, his head was stuffed with wool. He just wanted to sleep.

"Don't you have classes today?"

Matthew swatted Isaiah's hand away. He didn't care about classes, he wanted sleep.

"Okay. I think it's good to take a break once in a while. You have been pushing yourself like crazy."

Matthew didn't like that patronizing tone. Isaiah, fucking Wolfson, always sounding so superior to everyone. Always doing everything perfectly, always in control.

"Come at least have breakfast with us. We never get to do that when you leave so early."

Matthew just pulled the blanket over his head in response.

Isaiah sighed, patted his shoulder and left. The door closed softly behind him.

***

His bladder was about to explode. Matthew was irritated his body wouldn't stop annoying him with such annoying mundane concerns when he was in pain and wanted to sleep.

He shuffled out of the bedroom slowly, feeling dazed and out of it. Everything hurt, but that seemed like a normal state at this point, constant discomfort, the feeling og boiling in his own skin, the pulsating pain in his side...

He had to hold on to the wall several times to not fall down. His limbs weighed a ton, each step a struggle against gravity.

Finishing in the bathroom and half-heartedly washing his hands, he tried to wash his face too only to get dizzy over the sink. He caught himself just barely, only to spend the next few minutes dry heaving over it. Why was it so hot here?

What time was it? What day? Everything was so confusing.

Leaning heavily against the door, he started the slow torturous walk back to his bed.

"Matthew? Seriously, why are you sleeping so much?" Seline's voice was like an arrow, sharp and painful against the fog in his head.

"You know, I can't make you come to eat with us or watch a movie. If you want to be hauled in your room, be my guest. But you could at least get your shoes into the cupboard. How many times do I have to ask?"

He blinked, trying to locate the source of her voice. Ah, there she was, hands on her hips, staning in the entry hall.

"How am I supposed to vacuum this place with your sneakers always in the way? You forgot to do the grocery shopping yesterday, you know? Isaiah made food, I'm cleaning and you not only don't hold your part of the deal, you have to make my part harder." She talked in a calm tone, but the critic was obvious.

He focused his eyes on her, slumping against the wall next to the bathroom. "That's just great," he grumbled.

"What did you say? I didn't hear you."

"It's just great," he cleared his throat, "that the first thing you decide to talk to me about in weeks is this. Just fucking awesome."

Seline's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? I'm the one who isn't talking? Not like you bother to ask me anything. You refuse to give any effort. Why do I always have to do everything here? If only one person is trying-"

That angered him enough to straighten up. "I am not trying? I'm doing my best here; it's you who isn't trying." He coughed against his hand, feeling light-headed again. "I trained. I asked Isaiah to test me. I doubled my sparring rounds. I have done everything I could think of. You gave up."

Seline frowned, taking a breath to speak. Matthew couldn't register what she said next. Her mouth was moving, but there were two Selines speaking now and his vision was blurry at the edges.

Matthew's head was pounding. The little energy the anger got him flew out of him just as quickly. His side burned again, stretched by the motion of simply standing. He groaned, doubling over, hands shooting up to cradle the skin around the pain.

"Matthew?"

He coughed. His throat felt tight and he felt his stomach sloshing and turning. The skin around his abdomen was tender and swollen, warm to the touch. He tried reaching for his shadow, but it stirred in protest, slipping out of his hands.

He was so tired. Why couldn't he just go back to bed?

Something warm rushed up his throat with the next cough, spraying between his feet. He blinked at the pool of watery vomit in confusion.

Then his legs gave out.

His pants immediately soaked up the mess, but he had no time to worry about it as another wave of puke found its way out of him. The movement was completely involuntary. He didn't see it coming. He didn't understand. Everything was so confusing.

Maybe that was good he didn't heave. He didn't have the energy for it, just coughing up small mouthfuls of bile and water and foul-smelling liquid.

Seline was closer now. She was kneeling beside him, talking quickly into her phone. Then she reached for him, cupping his cheeks in cold hands. He winced at the contact.

Her hands went over him frantically, pulling against the pullover on his side. Matthew tried to stop her, but she squeezed his hands and then continued. He let her.

When she brushed her cold fingers against his side, he moaned in pain, trashing around. Cold lips touched his forehead and pressed against it for a long time, grounding him. Everything was too hot, too painful and he was shivering. Something smelled really awful.

His vision came and went for a while in a hurrying mess and chaos. His head somehow ended in Seline's lap. He wanted to ask her if she forgave him now that she was touching him again. She didn't seem to register him and he had no energy to formulate the words.

Then Isaiah was there, fingers on his nape, gripping his shoulder tightly. He was repeating his name, over and over. Matthew blinked at him. Yeah, I know that's my name, what do you want? Just let me sleep.

***

The next time he woke up, he was in bed. A clean shirt, a damp cloth on his forehead.

The first thing he truly registered was the absence of pain. He was still tired, still confused, but the sheer relief that the pain from his side was gone left him breathing deeply for a few minutes. This is how beautiful it felt, not to be in pain? He should relish it more.

Matthew reached with his hand towards his side. Under his shirt, he could feel bandages.

"No, don't touch it," a voice near his head said.

Matthew let his hands go limp, turning his face towards the voice. Isaiah sat on a chair next to him, elbows braced on the bed. His green eyes looked strained and shadowed, like someone painted bruises under them, but there was something relieved in his face.

"Your wound was infected. Your shadow was hurt and didn't heal it all the way. It was deep and open and you didn't clean it when you came home. That's how it got so serious."

Matthew watched him silently, expecting a lecture.

Isaiah's face contorted in anguish. "Why didn't you say anything? You must have been in so much pain."

That was actually worse than a lecture. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry and he coughed instead.

Isaiah sat up, taking a glass of water from the nightstand with a straw and holding it to his lips. "Drink this. Slowly."

Matthew obeyed, eager at the sight. The water was moderate temperature and it was the most heavenly taste he ever experienced.

Isaiah watched him intensely, bringing the glass away when he drank about half of it. He took the damp cloth that Matthew shook off with the movement and mopped his forehead and neck with it.

Matthew wanted to protest the treatment - he wasn't a child - but tensing up made him flinch in pain. It was only an echo of what it was before, but still.

"You will be okay. Just take it easy for now. We cleaned out the wound, applied antiseptics and got you some antibiotics from the pharmacy. It already looks a lot better, but you had a really high fever and you threw up a lot. We almost took you to the hospital, but your shadow was so out of it I was worried it was something else. But when we cleaned the wound, you got better rapidly, so we figured it was alright..."

"We?" Matthew rasped.

Isaiah nodded towards the end of the bed. Matthew tilted his head just enough to see what he was pointing at.

Seline was curled up on the bed beside him, a hand thrown over his leg, face almost pressed into it, breathing steadily.

"You think...she will forgive me now?"

Isaiah's eyes widened, lips quivering. The black-haired wolf leaned over, burying his face into the place between Matthew's shoulder and collarbone, hand going over his chest as if he was afraid Matthew would disappear if he didn't hold him down.

"Don't you ever do that again," Isaiah whispered against his shirt. "If you ever hide an injury like that, I'll kill you myself." It sounded like he was a hair away from sobbing.

Matthew tilted his head towards the black tousled hair, cheek against Isaiah's forehead. "Okay."

[fatuifucker]

third stream: desire for approval

[art cr: kuroume_1024 on twt]

bratty trans! streamer! scaramouche x dom fem-sex reader (they/them pronouns used for reader)

SUMMARY = how far would you go for attention?

WARNINGS = please view the sucker series masterlist for the full warnings! smut, penetration (reader giving), brat taming, asphyxiation, boobplay, use of the word “cunt”, use of pet name "angel" + "cumslut" + similar language, scara has nipple and navel piercings, womb tattoo, lingerie, self-sexualisation, codependence, unhealthy relationship, suicide ideation, self-harm, gender dysphoria, transphobia, attempted self-mutilation, implied domestic abuse

W/C = 2.6k

A/N = my word count is getting higher and higher be proud of me!! i was actually intending on writing a valentine's fic instead but uh ig you can take this as the late valentine's day fic instead lol. this may be my last x reader for a while for i would like to focus on more character x character. there are some zines im interested in participating and i want to have fics that i can use for my portfolio bc i don't think character x readers do good for zines lol oh yeah also little shoutout to the usernames featured in scara's stream!!

TAGS = @midnxght-sweet-time, @barbatosfavouritenun, @edenialucas, @huboi, @nejibot, @yumixxn, @teallapril

P-chan should be cute, pretty, handsome. Appearance-wise, they are perfect. Their gender doesn't matter but I want someone with a body like mine. I don't like nuisances so they have to be calm and collected. They have to be rational so they can comfort me and stop me from making impulsive decisions.

I want them to be independent but not too independent. They'll need me to command them like a pet. Maybe like a bunny? They could be that innocent-looking type but is secretly horny for me hehe. I'll have to work out the details later. But it's fine even if they are unsure about their personality. People like that tend to rely on the self-assured more. Maybe I could even dress up in the clothes I can't wear.

They won't be able to live without me.

—

“Ohh…it’s soh gud,” Scara moans, her tongue trailing up the melting popsicle before sucking on it. “Mmm…I might get addicted...”

The stream chat floods with comments; majority of it being provocative remarks. Just the reaction she intended. Although Scara hates to be sexualised by her fans, she knows that suggestive content rakes up the viewer count the fastest.

Almost halfway to a month, yet she hasn’t even reached half a million yet. She doesn’t have much time so even if that means that she has to whore herself like this…

“Mmm it’s sticking all over my fingers…” Scara licks the vanilla cream off her fingers, exaggerating her noises as she continues sucking on the popsicle. “It’s a good thing I took off my gloves. Or else it would have been allll over me.”

cauldron-of-anon: you know what else is creamy and drips all over

eunchaeluvr: I LOVE ICE CREAM

bubiblossom: god Im so happy I was born

cinshaberu: big…

leefrfr: that looks good

yourmomsucksme: YESYESYESYESYES

vermillionbun: THANK YOU SCARA

Scara giggles as she licks a strip up the popsicle. Hm, but it’s about time she ended the stream. All this sugary sweet stuff is cloying…ugh. She finishes the popsicle sensually and cleans her hands with a wet wipe.

“Thank you for the meal, it was delicious. I have to meet up with a friend so I’ll respond to the superchats another time.” Scara blows a kiss, mouse hovering over the ‘end stream’ button. “So long suckers!”

—

You’ve reached another milestone today. It’s funny how the other day, both you and Kunihiko were worried about his stagnancy. Today, he has surpassed 50k subscribers. Since this genre of streams garners the most viewers, maybe it’s okay to ask him to do more sexy streams. Probably not too much though. You don’t want Scara to come out as just another female streamer selling her body for clout. Conspiracy theories seem to do well…that goes for her ‘Scara Tries Things’ series. You’ll have to make her work harder these upcoming days, especially since she’s been slacking off lately. You’ve been trying not to push Kuni too hard but—

You blink as your phone is snatched away from you. “You’re still doing work?”

“Yes, that’s my job as your producer.” You stare at Kuni.

Your boyfriend scowls, grabbing your forearm. “Right now I need you to do your job as my partner.”

You don’t make any effort to resist as Kuni drags you like a ragdoll, grunting when he tosses you onto the bed. You sit there, waiting for Kuni to finish changing and give you your orders for the night. In the meantime, you occupy yourself by looking around.

Kuni didn’t have any requests for a themed room so you chose a classy one. The room was laden with rich reds and blacks, a jacuzzi and a drawer stocked with condoms, lube, all the essentials. In truth, it looked like any expensive hotel room, except that the fee for this one was much cheaper that any 5 star hotel. The good thing about love hotels is that they are soundproof — meaning Kuni is going to make you fuck him all night so he can savour the experience of moaning as loud as he wants without alerting the neighbours. Speaking of which, he wanted you to wear something, didn’t he? It should be the one on the table…

Unveiling the contents of the paper bag reveals an angel-themed lingerie set. The bodysuit is made out of fine white satin, decorated with ribbons at the shoulder straps, tulle around the hips, and etched with cloud patterns. Matching the set of white ribbon garters are sheer cloud-covered unattached sleeves that look like it extends past your elbows, looping around the middle finger to partially cover the top of your hands and leaving the rest bare. Without batting an eye, you shed your clothes off and dress yourself in the gifted outfit.

“Are you done?” Kuni calls from the bathroom after a few minutes.

“Yes.”

You sit on the bed, watching as your boyfriend exit the bathroom. A devilish grin rests on his carmine-lined lips as he sashays in black stilettos. He’s dressed head to toe in black leather — from the bodysuit, to the arm sleeves and stockings — but the bodysuit specifically emits a sort of polychromatic glow, shifting to a shimmering purple under the fluorescent light. The whole outfit hugs his body tight, squeezing his body in certain areas that pulls attention to the exposed skin spilling out his thighs and his chest… Your gaze darts back to his eyes, heart thumping upon realising that he is right in front of you.

Kuni chuckles. “What? You embarrassed?” He takes your hand, placing it on his chest. “Don’t be. I wore this just for you, you know?” Entranced, your eyes follow the movements of his other hand, watching as he unzips the zip on his waist, pushing down the waistband to display the pink, heart-shaped tattoo on his pelvis; resembling those typical womb tattoos you see in hentai. “You’re my sweet, obedient angel. And you’re going to reward this naughty succubus for working so hard for the both of us.” Kuni shoves you down on the bed, letting you sit in your state of shock as he purrs into your ear. "Get your toys. They are on the bedside table."

Sure enough, there's your bullet vibrator and buttplug; the ones Kuni asked you to bring today. You turn the motor to its maximum speed, goosebumps all over your skin as it makes contact with your sex. Next goes the plug, which you make sure to lubricate before inserting it into your puckered hole. When you lift your head, Kuni’s stinging violet gaze is locked upon you, a smirk on his carmine lips as he plays with his covered clit. You immediately turn your attention down, removing his underwear with hurried fingers and latching onto the swollen bub.

Soft thighs wrap around your head as your tongue switches its focus on his leaky cunt. Juices drip all over your tongue as you dive into him, eating him like a gourmet buffet. The whir of the vibrator reverberates off the insulated walls, rousing the fire in your groin that stupefies you into shaking your ass, savouring the sensation of your hole squeezing around the plug. Your eyes flit back up to your lover, his lust-filled eyes fixed onto you. His cunt oozes with ambrosial nectar, and you lap it up like a starved creature, goaded by his saccharine moans. A squeal reveals the arrival of his high, manicured nails digging into the sheets before vitality deserts him, leaving him laying limp on the bed.

The strained, rapid breaths becomes the only source of sound in the room once the motor is turned off. What fills the space of silence is rustling, followed by a click and then followed by a wet noise of viscous liquid. Kuni spreads his legs as your body hovers over him, a tired look on his face. He senses your hesitation.

“Don’t give that look,” he sneers. “I already gave you permission to ruin me. Unless…” he juts his bottom lip out, eyebrows lowered in a display of mockery. “you’re backing away now because you realised you can’t do it. No matter how cool, calm and controlled you think you are, I’m the one who holds dominion over you. Without my orders, you’re hopeless. You don’t know what to do because I’m the one who holds the power. Without me, you’re— ah!!”

His back arches into a crescent as the strap spears him without warning. Without giving him time to adjust, you’re grinding your hips against his, slamming the cock in and out while he cries in pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes! Use me! Break me! Fix me! Oh god, please, please, please—!”

The force of your thrusts jostles Kuni against the bed, incandescent light shifting the polychromatic purples of his collar that just beckon you to wrap your hand around the thin neck. The added pressure around his neck makes him mewl in delight, hands guiding your free hand up his hips, past his navel piercing, and landing on his chest.

“Touch my boobs…” he rasps.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to order me around,” you say with a bite in your voice, tugging on one of his nipple piercings to make him squeak. “Do I have to punish you for your insolence?” Nonetheless, you turn your attention to his chest, peppering it with kisses and hickeys, suckling on his nipples, all to make the little brat writhe under you. 

“(Name)...” he whines. “Punish me, ruin me, I don’t care! I don’t care about anything as long as you need me— aah…think of me and no one else! Want only me, love only me, love me, love me, love— haaah~!! I’m cumming, I’m—!”

His orgasm is signified by a shower of translucent strings streaming out of his soaked cunt, essence staining the floor and sheets in splatters. Kuni wheezes for air once you release the hold on his neck, arms wrapping around you as he basks in the momentary peace.

“Are you okay? Was I too rough?”

“I…I can do it again…” he says in between breaths, pushing himself up with his elbows. “Come on, I’m your…I’m your succubus, aren’t I? You…you have to punish me…”

You shrink back. “Kuni, I really think you need a break—”

A sudden weight thrown onto you interrupts your monologue. You blink, seeing your smirking boyfriend has switched positions with you; with you now underneath him while he’s on top of you.

“Oh I’m much stronger than you think. This body is curated for you…for all of your desires and wants. So, do your worse,” He cusps your cheek, lips covering over yours. “and dig in.”

Kuni kisses you with fervour, determined to infect you with his lust. An unwelcome sense of unease churns instead.

—

The sharp pain makes Kuni's body tingle with adrenaline, foggy eyes watching scarlet sanguine spill out the wound. His chest rises and falls as he pants, shaking fingers bringing the bloodied blade to slash an untouched portion on his wrist. He lets the high consume him, a penumbra that suppresses the emotional turmoil threatening to boil over the messed up pot that is him. Yet that high is all-consuming, and it begs for more. Cloudy indigos flit up to the mirror, a blurry figure reflecting back his ugly existence and that ugly chest that proves of his inferiority as a man.

"Cut your hair? But you’re the most beautiful with long hair."

"Where did you get those shorts? A pretty girl like you should wear dresses."

"Why does she dress like that?”

"Huh? But…you’re a girl."

Shut up, shut up.

”Kuniko, do you really think that anyone in this world will accept you as a boy?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up shut up shut up—

"Do you want to bleed out?"

Kuni ignores the way his raised hand trembles, grumbling as he glares at the person standing by the door. "Wasn't intending to. But if I die from blood loss, it wouldn’t be a bad thing either."

"I would be upset." You take a step forward, stopping when he inches the razor closer to his chest. "You know, if you wanted to get rid of them, we could always visit a professional. Surgery would be safer–"

“Do you think I give a shit about my safety?!” Kuni screams, beads of tears pouring like a waterfall. “I want to die! I don’t want to exist anymore, why don’t you get it?!”

“What makes you think that I don’t?”

“You…you…” Kuni swallows, his dry mouth making speech a burden.

“Maybe I don’t want to live either," You say. "but I still want you to survive.”

Kuni laughs dryly. “How selfish of you.”

“How ironic of you of all people to say that."

He doesn’t respond to that.

“I need you just as much as you need me. We can’t survive without each other.”

“I know.”

“I’m here because you want me to stop you. You want me to make you feel better.”

“...Yes.”

“How do you want me to do that?"

“...Hold me."

A trace of warmth swathes him; barely there but still enough. Kuni leans against the cold wall, quiet sobs echoing through the tiny room, caged in this claustrophobic space. The air is cold and suffocating, but he knows it will be okay because you’re here. It will be okay, because (Name) is here. (Name) is always with me. (Name) can never leave me. He closes his eyes, letting your gentle scent waft into his nose. He takes apart the scent: an amalgamation of lavender, sandalwood and sage, like the aromatherapy candles he lights. If he focuses, he can feel your warm, calming breaths brushing against his ear, reminding him that you’re there. You’ll always be there for him, and nothing will change that. It takes a while but slowly, his breaths even out, settling into a steady cadence.

You let go of him. His eyes are fixed on the floor.

“Are you okay?” You ask, caressing his dishevelled locks.

His gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “I can handle more than this.”

The sound of muffled shouting interrupts the quiet conversation. Kuni winces, looking at the direction of the disturbance. He recognises the voices but tunes out the repetitive string of words, palms cupping his ears while his back slides down the wall. The voices get louder and louder, accompanied by clashes of porcelain and the collide of wood against other household objects. He doesn’t register that he’s shaking until the familiar warmth surrounds him again.

“Let’s watch KAngel.”

—

[You received a text from Kuniku<3!]

Kuniku<3: (name)

Kuniku<3: ur asleep right?

Kuniku<3: couldnt sleep so i went out for a walk lol

Kuniku<3: i brought along the switchblade u bought me

Kuniku<3: in case a perv wants to catch a case hehe

[Kuniku<3 is typing…]

Kuniku<3: hey

Kuniku<3: you know i hate being alone right?

Kuniku<3: whenever you leave me for too long

Kuniku<3: im afraid that you realised you dont need me after all

Kuniku<3: i have to rely on you

Kuniku<3: but do you still need me?

Kuniku<3: or do i have to make you depend on me more?

[Kuniku<3 is typing…]

Kuniku<3: i want to disappear

Kuniku<3: i want to die

[Message Deleted]

Kuniku<3: hope my favourite cumslut got a good rest <3

Kuniku<3: i’ve been doing a good job right? sooo u will give me a break right?

Kuniku<3: i took the liberty of picking date ideas so what do u wanna do??

[Your answer]