#ghastly woman

[dougielombax]

One wonders.

What universally established, undisputed historical fact/event will JK Rowling deny next?

On account of her being a Holocaust denier.

The Armenian Genocide?

The Sayfo? (As it applies to Assyrians AND other Syriac peoples)

The Bosnian Genocide?

Ghastly old fool.

Don’t give me those excuses about “just asking questions”.

That’s not what denialism is. Nor will it ever be!

Anyone who does this deserves ridicule and scorn unending!

I study history, so I have an obligation to call out this bullshit.

[shinysobi]

"it was awkward to see colin flirt and behave like a rake" "he gave me the ick" yes ! that is the fucking point!! congratulations! you have the media literacy skills of a fucking monkey because my 4-year old niece could understand it better than you do.

we are supposed to find colin cringey and annoying and get the ick because that is not who he is. he is not anthony, or simon, or even benedict. colin (apart from gregory) is the sweetest of all bridgerton brothers (i'm going by book canon) and his most identifiable character trait is the fact that he values an emotional connection above everything. he runs away to the continent because he wants to feel that emotional connection. he has meaningless sex in brothels because that is the example he has seen growing up, that is the norm. he tries so hard to fit into the norm. he goes out drinking, adopts an entirely new personality, learns flirtations because that is how he thinks he will fit in. he's got armour on, as violet said. he puts everyone's needs above his own, he stops rambling on and boring his family with details of his trip because he knows no one cares. he doesn't talk to anthony or benedict about his heartaches because he knows they still, somewhere in their heart of hearts, view him as the annoying younger brother. he's so devastated by his closest friend not responding to him that he adopts a new personality in the hopes that it might mask the hurt better. he runs after penelope in episode one because he is so attuned to her emotions that he knows she's hurting, and tries to comfort her even when she's spiraling and lashes out. he must have been hurt by her words in the "good night mr bridgerton" scene but he puts it aside to genuinely apologise to her when literally no one else in that family would do that. colin, instead of brooding over his own feelings, goes and corners penelope in her family's garden and apologises to her, disregarding his own hurt at being cruelly dismissed by his close friend.

penelope asking colin to kiss her is not a mark of how "pathetic" she is. she has written and shamed herself in a manner that is almost entirely unsalvageable. she is at her lowest point, and then portia comes in and reminds her of how undesirable she is, and she sinks even lower. she asks colin to kiss her because she sees it as a final act, after which she can quietly wave goodbye to her dreams of ever getting married and leaving her mother's home. colin kisses her because he is also keenly aware of how she's feeling. he knows how hurt she is, he wants to do anything to alleviate that. be it cracking a joke, or kissing her. he is gentle, because he wants it to be something she can dream of when she's by herself. penelope, at this moment, has no hope for herself, and their kiss is an act of letting go for her. no, it's not a pity kiss, no he did not like her after her glow up, he has always loved her. him being struck dumb is a reaction to her physical transformation, nothing more. he does not flirt with her in that ballroom scene, he only approaches her when she's in distress. he's not flirting with her. i can assure you penelope could wear the frumpiest most neon yellow gown of all time and colin would still go "<333 my pen" for her.

colin jumps to catch the balloon's ropes because he sees that penelope is in danger, he does not give a shit about anyone else lmao. he feels temporary relief when he sees eloise run to safety, but the moment he sees penelope in immediate danger, he rushes to take action. afterwards, when he sees that she's being comforted by debling (all my homies hate debling, even if he is aro/ace coded i do NOT claim him) he does not approach her. it would be easy for him to do so, but he does not, because he respects her boundaries. colin bridgerton is the only man in the ton who respects women (the featherington sons-in-laws are too pretty to have a thought) he calls out fife and his friends for treating women like objects and calls them cavalier. the only way he would have been more explicit about his demisexuality was if he tap danced on the club table (entertaining thought, luke newton please)

colin also rapidly takes action, something which no one in the show has done so far. simon would have died instead of accepting his feelings for daphne, daphne would have been content with a loveless marriage forever instead of asking for help. kate would have pushed edwina down the aisle and gone off to india instead of confronting her own feelings, and anthony would have married edwina if she hadn't been brave enough for the three of them to run from the altar and ruin herself. penelope stood on the sidelines for years and loved him quietly because she had no hope of him loving her back. colin, the moment he is assured of his feelings, runs to penelope, almost kisses her in the middle of a ballroom. when he hears that debling is about to propose, he goes to the ball, just to dissuade penelope one more time. he cuts into their dance because he's desperate. when he runs after her carriage, he asks her if she has been proposed to, because he would not have touched her otherwise. he confesses his feelings to her only when he knows that she hasn't gotten engaged to debling, and when she says "but we are friends" he moves away. nothing more. he would have let her go, if she did not return his feelings.

idk whether i should be flattered or offended at people misunderstanding this season because on one hand it is offensive, but on the other hand, it means only smart people get polin. seriously. your minds have been rotted by insta-love and enemies to lovers that you can't even appreciate the innate beauty of friends to lovers. being friends with someone and then holding all those feelings for them. the trepidation of possible rejection. the fulfillment of being loved by the person who knows you the best of them all. the privilege of loving someone whose feelings you know better than your own. love is gentle and kind and yes it is a violent, uprooting force but above all, love does not hurt anyone. it does not hurt you. i could love someone quietly for years and it wouldn't bother me if their feelings were requited or not because my feelings are none of their business and i consider it a privilege to love and be loved by them, even if it is not in the way i would want it to be. polin are privileged in the highest sense. they know each other better than anyone else, they know how to love each other better than anyone else. to think they are rushed or they dont deserve each other is a disservice to both of them. they would be miserable with anyone else.

in other matters, if i see one more person talking smack about luke or nicola behind the safety of their screens i will personally get a bazooka.

[s-aint-elmo]

microdosing on the tlt tag has been earth-shattering because it came with the revelation that my experience of being siren song'd into finally reading the series by ianthe tridentarius's abject dysfunction only be dashed against the rocks of her unanticipated tenderness was not universal

[the-alphaess]

sometimes you just can't help but sink deeper.

[horngryeyes]

thinking about her (dolores dei) and thinking about other things (im too ashamed to say what but theyre connected in a shameful way also)

[vapeman]

the upshot is that its been so fucking long since a single person from high school/early college has actually “known me” while with the new friends I have none of us dgaf about what we were like 3+ years ago (shorter than that even) we just chill as we are instead of being burdened with fears that our past selves will always define us. I can just tell them “I was desperate to be a person and in the process became a caricature” and theyre like fuck that you’re real now. & thats all that matters

[sparklingblu]

A Christmas Carol

Ft. Sakura, Yunjin and Kazuha (and a slither of Irene)

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

This is my christmas fic. Not really jolly but well..

The first snow of December fell lazily, like the sky itself had decided to procrastinate. Arbor's edge, a town that always felt too small and too big at the same time, was cloaked in a thin blanket of white. The streetlamps casted ghastly glows on the street jostling with cheerful people but to you, it felt more like a reminder that the holiday season was here, whether you wanted it or not.

You sat in the corner booth of a diner you were too lazy to memorize the name, nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone lukewarm. The spoon scraped the bottom of the cup as you stir it mindlessly, having nothing better to do with your hands. Christmas music droned softly through the speakers - some old crooner crooning about snow and mistletoes. You hated mistletoes. Maybe you hated the way it made you remember her.

"Pie?" the waitress asked, her voice chipier in a way that made your teeth ache. Her name tag read Heather, and there was a spring of plastic holly pinned to her apron. Her smile was the kind that stretched too wide, like she's worried her friendliness wouldn't show.

You shook your head. "Just the coffee"

She hestiated for a second then jingled off back to the counter, her fake earrings chiming faintly. The lines on your face seemed to be etched deeper in the black surface of the coffee, swirling like a vortex from your stirs.

Outside, the street was alive with people bundled in scarves and parkas, carrying their holiday groceries and laughing at things you couldn't hear. The light strung along the buildings blinked in unison, a rhythm you found unnervingly cheerful. You sighed and turned your attention back to the window where frost patterns crept across the glass like a map to nowhere.

The coffee had gone cold, but you kept sipping it, more out of habit than need. It's a silent rebellion against the idea that you should leave and go home, where an old friend called emptiness awaited. You knew the routine too well: the dead silence of the apartment, the hum of the fridges compensating for the lack of conversation.

Somewhere behind the counter, Heather laughed like a blissful hyena at someone's joke. Mixed with the clinks of dishes, it's enough to make you feel more like a ghost than a person.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. 9:14 PM. Too early to call it a night but too late to do anything useful. The snow outside was starting to pick up, accumulating in thick layers that turns sidewalks into slick ribbons of slush. People were retreating into their homes, the streets emptying except for the occasional cars that passed by, their headlights cutting through the dark.

The bell above the diner's door jingled but you barely glanced up. Another customer. Someone you probably didn't know. Someone passing through. But the change their presence brought is unmistakable. You felt a shift in the air, like the pressure had dropped. The way it does before a storm.

"Pretty cold, huh?" Heather's voice rang out, too bright for her own good. You caught a glimpse of the new arrival from the corner of your eyes: a woman in a red velvet dress with white fur trim along the neckline and the hem. Like someone who just returns from a Christmas themed costume party. It's a wonder how she's able to withstand the cold in such a short dress.

You didn't mean to stare but something about her caught you. Maybe it was the way she strides without a hint of jolly christmas spirit - unlike most people this time of the year. Or it's the primal instinct of a male to indulge in the presence of a female. Either way, your eyes were fixed.

She slid into the booth and sat perfectly still, like she belonged here. She must know you had been staring because she returns your gaze with an intensity no less than yours. And you were breathtaken.

There could be two reasons for this. Actually, three.

The other party is monstrously ugly.

The other party is otherworldly beautiful.

You have gotten so drunk that you have started hallucinating.

Considering coffee was the only thing you had had the whole day, the second option is valid for this matter. Her face is angelic in a way angels could never be. From her dark irises to the curve of her chin, everything screams God's favorite. Maybe someone upstairs have decided to brought a blessing to your miserable holiday.

"Ethan Collaway" she said, voice soft but unyielding.

Your heart dropped. You had never met her. You were sure of it.

"Do I know you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

The woman tilts her head slightly, as if she's amused by your question. "Not yet"

You blinked, trying to make sense of her words. She leaned back in her seat, folding her arms like she's disappointed by your confusion.

"Not yet?" you repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means" she smiled faintly. "that we are about to get very well acquainted. But there's no need to rush. Finish your coffee first"

You glanced down at the cup, now completely cold. "I think I'm done"

She raised an eyebrow, her expression hovering between pity and amusement. "Suit yourself. But you will regret wasting the small comforts later. You always do"

You shifted uneasily at her words. "Okay" you said. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"I know more than your name, Ethan" she leans forward now, resting her elbows on the table. Her eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment everything seemed to fade away - the hum of conversation, the clink of dishes, even Heather's festive laughter faded away, leaving only you and her in isolation.

"I know the weigh you carry" she continued, voice impossibly steady. "I know you sit in that apartment of yours, staring at walls that have nothing to say. Trying to fill the void in your heart with alcohol when you know there's only one person who can do the job. And I know you yearn for a second chance. An opportunity to set things right again" she pauses, breathe in. "But it's too late, isn't it? People regrets only when things are broken and can't be repaired. And when you hear laughter, like the kind outside this window" - she gestured towards the frost covered glass - "you tell yourself it's just noise. But deep down, you wonder what it feels like to laugh like that again. To feel loved.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "Listen. I don't know what game you're trying to play but-"

"No games" she interrupted. "Just the truth. And here's another: tonight is the first step. A choice, really. Stay as you are - alone and bitter - or take a chance on something different"

Your laugh came out shriller than you intended, the kind of defensiveness that only comes when someone hits a nerve. "Different? You speak like you're the Ghost of Christmas Past or something"

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Close. But I prefer Irene"

Before you can respond, the bell above the diner chimed again. You turned instinctively, expecting to see a customer. Instead, the room seemed to shift again, the air growing colder despite the warmth of the heater. When you looked back at the woman, she weren't there anymore.

She was standing beside you now, so close that her voice seemed to pierce right into your ears.

"Pay attention, Ethan" she warned, voice commanding. "The clock is ticking"

And just like that, the lights flickered, and everything went dark.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

The diner completely dissolved into blackness so complete it felt like falling into a void. For a moment, the only sound you could hear is the faint hum of your own pulse, racing so fast as if to catch up with reality.

Then a light appeared - small at first but quickly growing into a warm glow that engulfed everything. You blinked, trying to shield your eyes. But the action is not needed. Because this light didn't sting. It was different - soft and familiar.

When your vision cleared, you found yourself in an apartment. The smell of stale air filled your nose, mixed with the faint, phantom trace of something like jasmine. Or lavender. Something entirely hers.

This was your apartment, unmistakably. But it's a stark contrast to the mess it was now. The walls were bright with fresh paint. Not a trace of cobwebs or dust. The stacks of books were stacked neatly on a table. Everything was so neat. So in order. So her.

"It's funny" the woman, now known as Irene, mused behind you. "How this place had looked habitable. Like an actual home"

Reluctantly, you moved to a familiar spot by the couch - that spot you'd always leave your shoes no matter how much she grumbled about it. You looked up and there it was: The past you and Sakura.

She was standing at the kitchen counter, her hair falling in loose strands around her shoulders, a soft grin on her lips. She wore one of your oversized sweaters, sleeves too long for her hands but she didn't seem to mind it. She was holding a mug of something - probably tea - and she was laughing. At you.

"No, no, Ethan" she was saying in the familiar voice you had missed so much it hit you square in the chest when you heard it again. "You don't just pour the milk first. That's sacrilege. It's tea making 101"

You were standing across from her, arms crossed in mock defiant. "It tastes the same either way. You are just being picky"

She gasped, feigning outrage. "Picky? That's rich coming from a guy who needs his peanut butter spread to the edge on every sandwich"

You grinned then, leaning against the counter. "Details matter"

"And yet, you still don't understand tea", she teased, sipping from her mug. The light in her eyes shone brighter when she smiles - its warmth never failing to pull you in, no matter how bad your day was.

"See how she spoke so softly" Irene said behind the present you. "Even your stubbornness seemed smaller when she spoke"

The scene shifted like a film cutting to the next reel. Now, it was the couch - your couch, where the cushions were sunken just slightly on her sides. She was curled up against you, a book opened in her lap - probably Edgar Allan Poe - that neither of you were reading. Her fingers traced invisible patterns on your forearm, and your head rested lightly against hers.

"I think this is my favorite spot" she muttered, her fingers pausing their journey across your skin.

"Here?" you asked, shifting slightly to look at her.

"Here. There. Anywhere. With you" she answered, her eyes meeting yours like a silent dare for you to argue.

You didn't. Instead, you leaned in, pressing your forehead lightly against hers. A small gesture, but it mattered the world to you.

"Do you ever think about the future" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, your hand brushing her cheek. "The future as in....?"

"As in us" she said, pulling back just enough to search your face. "Where we'll go. What we'll be"

"I think" you answered carefully, slowly. "that whenever we end up, I'll be fine as long as it's with you"

A laugh bubbled out of her, her cheeks tinted rosy with a blush. "That's too smooth. Did you practice that in the mirror?"

"No" you said, smiling despite yourself. "Now I'm glad I didn't screw it up"

She kissed you then - not hurried or desperate, but softly, like she was trying to memorize the shape of your lips against her. It's the kind of kiss that lingered forever long after it ceased.

The memory faded then, just as quickly as it had come. But your mind continued to play out the scene.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Fragment 1

"Mhmm, babe. Ugh, don't stop" Sakura's slender frame writhed beneath you as your cock entered and re-entered her wet slit in a steady rhythm. The old couch sunk and creak with each thrust you made, adding to the symphony of her beautiful moans. Unlike the soft, tender girl she mostly was, Sakura was vocal at sex - never failing to express her gratitude when your huge cock stretched her out. The neighbors next doors must be accustomed to the sound by now. You doubt these walls are thick enough to silence her pleas not to stop. You couldn't care less. Not now.

"Fuck. You are stretching me out so good. Don't stop babe. Oh My God" Sakura cried out as you gave her a particularly hard thrust, your tip kissing her cunt. And more curses and moans followed as you continued to hammer her cunt relentlessly. "Fuck. Fuck. Don't stop" she begs, her nails digging into your back. "Fuck me harder babe. Stretch my tight pussy with your huge cock"

See. This is what you loved about her. She's an angel, really but when you two got up close and personal, that angel is banished, fallen from grace. Instead, a demon possessed her. The kind that can't get enough of your huge cock stirring up her insides over and over. Always begging for more. Never satisfied. No matter how much you breed her.

Her walls clenched around you, milking your shaft as you took her over and over. You were as desperate as her for this. Because the feeling of her warm wet hole twitching around you was like nothing else. And she would say the same way about how good you filled her up. She already did, actually.

"You are so fucking tight, Sakura" you grunted as Sakura's pussy continued to squeeze you like a vice. "I'm going to ruin this little cunt. You are gonna be so full when I'm done with you"

"Yes, yea. Fuck me harder" Sakura screamed, her perky tits bouncing in your face. Unable to resist the sight, you lean down, putting one of her stiff nipples into your mouth. A jolt resonated through her body as you bite down gently, kneading the soft flesh between your teeth. "Make me your dirty little slut"

Who would think the girl who said nothing but sweet words to you would be begging to be your slut? But it's no longer a surprise, rrally. You have learned enough about Sakura's versatility. Forever your angel. Occasionally your slut.

"Fuck. You are going to make me cum" Sakura cried between each breath you took away with your brutal thrusts. Sweat had accumulated on her skin from the relentless pounding she took, dripping in clear streaks. Her eyes, dilated and hazy, did a better job than her words to speak about the onslaught of pleasure she's under.

Sakura's pussy is no easy hole to stretch but your hips kept bucking, as though driven by a supernatural force. You didn't care about how sore you must be the next morning nor how she wouldn't be able to walk for days after you were done. All you care about was this: the collision between your pelvises each time you make contact . The action itself more romantic to you than any tender gesture. This is connection- you two becoming one.

"i'm cumming. I'm cumming. I'm cummingggg" Sakura repeated the words like a mantra as she creamed on your cock, her back curving gracefully as her legs trembled. The way her walls pulsated around you as her juice gushed out was enough to send you over the edge. Soon, you were following her in the flight of bliss, pumping spurt after spurt of your warm load into her welcoming cunt.

It took a few more slow thrusts before you finally extracted your shaft out of Sakura's now spent hole. Your cum dripped out of her in a white streak as soon as the stuffing is removed. It stained the couch. Just like countless other times.

You studied Sakura's face, which now wore a peaceful, dormant mask. Her chest rised and fell steadily with her breath and her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. Still, she doesn't fail to give you that warm smile that looked out of place in her current state. "You came a lot" she panted, then "I love you"

You didn't know if it's possible to replace lust with love right after sex but in that moment, you seemed to. "I love you too, Sakura. Always"

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

You blinked, coming back to your senses and turned to Irene, your throat tight. "Why are you showing me this?"

Irene's expression was unreadable. "Because she gave you something too good for you. Something you don't know how to hold. And you have been letting it slip through your fingers ever since"

You clenched your fists, the pain in your chest unbearble. "What do you want me to do? Go back? Fix it? It's too late. She's gone"

"Gone" she agreed, her voice soft. "But not forgotten. Maybe that's the problem"

Once again, the world blurred away into a swirl of white and green. When it settled again, you are standing on a path, flanked on both sides by tall, snow-dusted pines. The air was crisp, just the right amount of cold to be cozy. Snow fell steadily, softening the edges around everything - the lmapposts, the branches, the footprints trailing along the path.

And then you saw them.

You and Sakura.

She was walking slightly ahead, bundled in a red scarf and a cream coat that rebelled against the snowflakes. Her breath misted in the air as she turned to you - her younger self - her cheeks pink from the cold.

"Ethan, you are walking like a tortoise" she called, wearing that same warm smile. "It's not that slippery"

"Maybe I just don't want to catch up" younger you replied, voice light though his hands were fidgeting in the coat pockets.

Sakura rolled her eyes but she slowed down just enough to fall into steps beside you. The way she glanced at you then - curious expectant - was so small a gesture but it carried a familiarity that you could feel even now, watching from the sidelines.

"You've been so quiet all night" she nudged him with her elbow. "Something's wrong?"

The younger you hesitated, breath hitching. He stopped walking, snow crunching under his boots as he turned to face her.

"Okay" he answered, exhaling a cloud of white. "I have something to tell you. And it's probably the stupidest thing ever. But please bear with me for a moment....alright?"

Sakura blinked, surprised but her smile didn't falter. "Okay....?" she answered, drawing out each syllable carefully.

He reached into his pockets, pulling out a small, crumpled spring of mistletoe. He held it awkwardly in his hands, trying to keep them from trembling as he offered the mistletoe to Sakura.

"This" he began, swallowing hard. "is how I planned to say this. But I'm gonna do it anyway" You exhaled, meeting her gaze. "I love you, Sakura"

Everything was still for a moment. The world silent except for the steady rhythm of falling snowflakes. Then Sakura's eyes widened, breath hitching.

"Look. I know this is stupid. I totally get it if you don't-"

"No" Skaura interrupted. Then she smiled. She smiled? "You are an idiot"

"What?" the younger you blinked, puzzled.

"You are an idiot" she repeated, her smile growing wider. "You do realize you are supposed to hold that mistletoe above my head, right?"

"So...does it mean-"

He was unable to finish his question because he was instantly silenced by Sakura's lips that muffled his next words. The kiss was gentle at first but it quickly deepened into something fervorous - like their whole lives had been leading up to this moment and they were finally claiming what's rightfully theirs.

Your heart felt like it's being pierced through and through but you didn't tear your gaze away. You can still feel the cold bite of the air, the softness of her lips, the phantom warmth that lingered long after.

"Can't you see what you were destined for?" Irene asked but you can't formulate an answer, your throat tight with emotions. "You gave your heart to her that night. And she returned it with hers. For a while, at least"

You turned away from the scene, your voice thick. "And then I fucked everything up"

Irene didn't reply, only watching as the younger you and Sakura pulled apart, bursting out in laughter.

"You made a promise to her that night" Irene finally said. "One you let yourself forget"

The words lingered in the frozen air as the memory began to blur, snow swirling around you in a sudden, dizzying storm. Soon, everything is enveloped by a torrent of white.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

When your eyes came back into focus, you found yourself back in your apartment. Your breath caught in your throar. It was the old spit again - the couch - but this time, it was alive with a different kind of atmosphere. The heater hummed faintly, filling the silence and the warm light of a bedside lamp illuminated the small, familiar place. It's nothing unfamiliar.

Except that it wasn't Sakura's voice or presence that filled the room.

On the couch, sprawled out with heavy limbs is none other than yourself. The past you. Your shirt was half undone, and a woman who wasn't Sakura lied beside you, her sleek black dress painting an image of a vixen in the dim light. She leaned into you, her lips brushing against your jaw as you tilted your head back, your smile faint but unmistakable.

The present you stepped closer, stomach twisting in horror at the piece of memory you had tried to bury for so long. No. Not this.

"Please..." you begged, already knowing what's about to unfold. "Take me somewhere else"

But Irene stood firm behind you, her gaze unyielding. "This is what you must see"

The woman reached for a glass of wine on the table, tilting it ever so slightly as she swirled it with practiced ease. The way the liquid slosh around was almost hypnotic. "You are so tense" she commented as she runs her palm across your bare chest. "Sakura doesn't take care of you like this, does she?"

The past you flinched, sheathing your smile but you didn't pull away. "It's complicated" you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

"Is it?" the woman replied, her tone sharp. "Or are you too scared to admit I'm better than her?"

She leaned in, so close that her breath tickled your neck. "You just can't get enough of me, can you?" She blew a puff of hot air into your ears, the sensation unexpected but not unwelcomed. "You are never satisfied...."

You glanced at her, putting on a smile to hide your internal conflict. "It's not that simple"

"Isn't it?" she asked, tilting her head so that her hair fell over your shoulder in a pool of midnight silk. "You deserve someone better, Ethan. Someone who knows exactly what you need..."

Your gaze dropped to your laps. "That wouldn't be fair. She's....she's good to me"

The woman's lips curved into sly smile as she set down the glass back on the table. "Good isn't always enough, is it?" her voice dropped to a whisper, words brushing against your ear. "Don't you want more, Ethan? Don't you want me?"

"Don't..." you swallowed hard, resolve wavering as she shifted closer, her legs brushing against yours.

"Tell me" A kiss on your neck, leaving a crimson mark of her lipstick. "Who's better at this?" Another to your jaw. "Riding you. Blowing you. Being your good little....slut?" The last one was a soft brush to your ears that left you drunk in blissful sensations. More. You needed more.

"I can't..." the past you began, voice barely audible.

"Shhh, it's okay" she brought a finger to your lips, silencing you. "It's ok, Ethan. She doesn't have to know"

The present you clenched your fist, gritting your teeth. "Stop this. I fucked up, alright? I don't need to see it again"

"You traded your morals for momentary pleasure. And in doing so, you killed what you had with her"

You looked away, no longer able to comprehend the rewind of your mistakes. You have seen enough. Enough to make you feel like putting a bullet right through your head. But the human's mind worked in mysterious ways. Because it always fails to erase the memories people want to forget the most.

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Fragment 2

Her name was Yunjin. You remembered now. No, that's a lie. You have always remembered. She was a new hire in your company and things started off innocently enough. But to argue, most affairs usually do.

If confidence have a living embodiment, it would be Yunjin. She was sharp angles and quick wit, wearing ambition like a second skin. It's all evident in the way her heels clicked with purpose as she moved through the office.

It all began with a project, one where you and her were on the same team. Despite the endless nights of meetings and paperwork, Yunjin never seemed to falter, always keeping her cool. You admired that about her. And it should have stopped there. Pure innocent admiration.

Her communication skills were no less remarkable. She was easy to talk to, quick to joke, know exactly how to lighten the mood when the pressure becomes too much. Maybe that's what made you finally crumble.

On that fateful evening, you found yourself alone in the conference room after most of the office had emptied out. You were nursing a cup of tea, papers and stationary strewn across the table.

As if on cue, Yunjin entered the moment you lifted the hem of the cup to your lips like she wanted to ensure you couldn't interrupt her greetings.

"You look like you are about to collapse" she commented, leaning back in a chair close to yours with a smirk. She was in her usual office attire - white top and black overcoat paired with a pencil skirt of the same color so that when she crossed her thighs, her pale skin inevitably stood out.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence" you replied, setting the cup back down on the table.

She laughed, a low throaty sound. "Ethan. You are the reason this project just didn't crush and burn, you know?"

You let out an awkward chuckle, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. "It was a team effort"

"Sure" she said, leaning in - her top hanging just loosely enough to reveal a hint of clevage and you swalllow at the sight. It was wrong. But you are only human afterall. "But not everyone could've done what you did"

She inched even more closer and you told yourself that the hand she had come to place on your arm was nothing more than a gesture of companionship. But you couldn't deny the way it made something inside you stir. It's not love. Far from it. But it's equally intoxicating.

You cleared your throat, trying to find your footing. "You are giving me too much credit. It's a team effort"

"Humble, too. I like that" You shivered at the feel of her other hand that had come to rest on your leg. She's doing nothing more than simply placing her smooth palms on the fabric of your trousers. Yet, you can already felt your mamba growing rigid - her touch electric. A few more minutes of this and your boxers wouldn't be able to hide your erection.

You tried to focus on anything else - the clock on the wall, the stack of papers on your desk - but it was impossible to ignore the way she leaned forward, the curve of her collarbone catching the light.

"You know" she said, her tone playful. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You take care of everyone else but who take care of you?"

Sakura. That's who. But at that moment, you are at a lost for words. You tried to say her name out loud but the deep vortex of Yunjin's irises had pulled you in and every rational thought you had had been thrown out of the window.

You didn't know how it happened. When it happened. Everything passed by in a whirlwind of need and lust. The moment you came back to your senses, Yunjin was sprawled out on the long wooden table of the conference room. Everything on it has been shoved down to the floor. By you or her, you couldn't remember. You were looming right above her and you could only wish the table is strong enough to support both of your weights.

Your whole body was bare save for the unbuttoned shirt that hanged loosely on your frame. Yunjin's no different. Her overcoat had been casted away and her top was gone, revealing her perky tits. Your eyes wondered from the bent of her throat, down the planes of of her bare chest, all the way to her toned midriff, finally coming to rest on the nirvana between her legs, barred only by flimsy panties.

You felt your cock throbbing already - a sign of desperateness. All that occupied your mind was how Yunjin would feel around you when you finally penetrated her. She wouldn't fit around you like a glove instantly like Sakura does. But you didn't doubt you can mold this new hole to the shape of your cock. You have all the required qualities.

"Are you just gonna watch?" Yunjin reminded, shifting her body just a tad bit slightly to get comfortable on the hard surface. She didn't need to told you twice, your body is already aching enough for hers.

She let out the faintest of moans when you spread open her thighs, your eyes glinting with a predatory hunger - the kind only Yunjin can satisfy.

"You're mine now" The words of a mad man, fueled by lust. "And I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk straight"

Yunjin moaned, arching her back as you ground your cock against her clothed pussy. You could already feel the moistness of her juice seeping through the fabric and the dark spot on her panties grew even bigger when you gave your tip a couple of rub on it.

"Words mean nothing" Yunjin replied, crossing her arms behind your neck as you leaned in even closer. "Prove it. Show me how well you can stretch out my tight little pussy"

There, it would have been easy to blame it all on Yunjin, that she was the one who initiated the act and made you think of nothing but about pounding her to oblivion. But that wouldn't be fair because there was still a silver of semblance left in you even then. It's microscopic and easily clouded by lust. But right at that moment you were about to cross the boundary of no return, a tiny voice remined you of her - of Sakura. It told you how much she put her trust in you. How she expected you to do the same thing. That you were betraying her trust by doing what you were going to do next. You should have stopped then. You could have.

But you couldn't.

With a grunt, you tore Yunjin's panties away, baring her dripping cunt to your hungry gaze. There was no time for foreplay. Foreplay is for slow romantic sex, which this isn't.

You slammed your cock into her tight heat with one brutal thrust and her walls opened up willingly. There's no doubt this bitch had taken poundings before. Not a chance she's a virgin with a hole this used. But still, somehow someway, it retained its tightness - so tight it almost seemed natural.

"Fuck you are so tight" you groaned, pulling back and slamming back in, earning a jolt through her body. "I'm going to fuck your brains out. Until your hole become so loose it needs a cock to stuff it shut"

Yunjin screamed, her nails digging into your back as you pounded into her over and over. The table creaked beneath you, threatening to give way under the force of your thrusts.

"Yes, yes! Fuck me harder" she cried, wrapping her legs around your waist. "Ruin me with your big fat cock. Make me forget my own name"

You obliged, slamming into her pussy with wild abandon. The room filled with the sounds of skin against skin and the wet squelch of her cunt as you fucked her hard and fast. But it's not all about the way she's milking your shaft with her walls. It's also the vision - the sight before you. Yunjin can and will get anything she want. There's no doubt. The way she hold herself - so calm and composed is enough to make others drip with envy. But right now, under the onslaught of your beastly thrust that rapidly violated her hole, moaning and groaning words of submission, she is no longer the confident woman. Instead, it's a desperate whore that craved your cock whose pussy is being claimed.

"Fuck. You are probably the biggest cock I have ever take" Yunjin praised, though it's hard to say with her rolled-up eyes. "You are gonna have to exclude me from the meeting tomorrow. I don't think I can -"

Yunjin was instantly silenced as all ten fingers of yours closed around her throat, depriving her of oxygen. But she deserved it. With the way she acted like your cock's the best thing in the world.

"What were you saying?" you asked. Yunjin could only make incoherent sounds as her mouth stayed agape like a fish on land. This wouldn't be painful to her. You know that much. Actually, it will turn on this slut even more.

Sakura could never. You thought. Despite her taste for rough sex, Sakura couldn't go this extreme. One time, you slapped her face in the heat of the moment and that girl actually got all teary.

No. Why were you comparing? Why were you even thinking about her?

"Tell me bitch" You asked again. No answer. Just more ragged breaths. As if to compensate for her silence, Yunjin's walls clenched around you even more, trying to answer with their tightness that she, indeed, was enjoying this. Yunjin stayed true to her words: "Words mean nothing". She's trying to prove herself through action.

Just when you thought Yunjin was going to pass out from the lack of air, her body tensed up as she creamed herself on your cock. The climax was unexpected as she wasn't given any chance to warn you. But you welcomed it gladly with more bucks of your hips as you prolong her bliss as long as possible.

Finally, Yunjin came down from her high and you released your hold on her neck, leaving a faint red mark that told the story of your dominance.

"I'm not done yet. You know that, right?" Your reminder wasn't needed. Yunjin had recovered in seconds, now getting on all fours as she leveled her face with your cock.

"Let me clean you up" she said before diving down on your cock. Soon, you found out her pussy isn't the only hole she can utilize to full potential. The warmth that enveloped your length brought you a different kind of pleasure. You tilt your head back, exhaling as you relish in the feeling of her tongue tracing every inch. How many heads had she given? You have no idea. But anyone could guess the number's easily a double digit if they were in your shoes.

She slurped on the cock like it's the tastiest thing in the world. Maybe it's the taste of her own juice on your shaft. Or maybe, she's just a cock depraved whore. Either way, you got the same treatment.

She didn't take you all the way - keeping half of you in her mouth while her hands stroked what her mouth couldn't reach. And there was no combination more lethal as each pair of stroke and lick send a shockwave through your core that have your toes curling.

"Mhmm" Yunjin licked her lips as she released you from her mouth. She looked up at you with dazed eyes as her hand keeps pumping your cock, spreading her drool from base to shaft. "Look how much you are twitching. You're gonna cum?"

She's wasting her words on a question you both knew the answer to. But you couldn't deny it was extremely hot. Who doesn't like a pretty girl worshipping their cocks?

Your simple nod was enough to let her proceed, as she took you back into the heat of her mouth. This time, she didn't make use of her hands. Instead, she impaled herself on your cock - taking it all the way down her throat. A loud gag escaped as it breached her gag reflex until her nose was pressed against your pelvis.

"Fuck" you cursed. She was bent down all the way in this position, her back curved and ass raised. And you didn't miss the chance to grab a feel of her buttocks, earning a moan that resonated through your mamba. A string of glag glag glag bounced around the room as Yunjin continued to fuck her throat on your cock over and over. A puddle of her drool has formed on the table. You made a mental note to clean it up. There's not much reasonable excuses for a pool of drool.

Sakura could never. There's the thought again. Don't be mistaken. Sakura blows your cock very well. To be honest, she loves it as much as you do. Especially, when you filled her mouth with your cum. But her throat wasn't meant for brutal use like Yunjin's was.

Does it matter? No. Stop thinking about Sakura.

The familiar knot unraveled in your stomach. You could no longer hold back as you pumped spurts after spurts of your thick load down Yunjin's throat. And she took it very welll, keeping your cock stuffed down her throat as she held it there like a good girl.

She finally released your cock with a loud pop, strings of saliva still connecting it to her mouth. "Thanks for the big load" Yunjin said while she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You really needed that, huh?"

Do you? Now no longer clouded by the mist of lust, doubts started to fill the gaps where the past passion had been. Wrong. This is all wrong. What have you done? How are you gonna face Sakura again?

This is a one time thing. Yes. A mistake made by unmonitored desires. It can't be undone. But it can be stopped. No one have to know. Sakura doesn't have to know. You will forget it over a couple shots. You wouldl be better next time.

But you weren't.

And in the end, you only had yourself to blame.

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You grounded yourself back to reality. No use crying over spilled milk. You have lived with regret your whole life. What use is it to worsen the pain?

You were still in the apartment, though now it was empty, the furniture gone, the walls stripped bare.

Irene stood a few feet away, silent as ever, watching you with that same unflinching gaze.

You staggered back, running a hand through your hair. "You didn't need to show me that" you said. "I know what I did"

Irene tilted her head slightly, a gesture bordering on pity. "Knowing is not the same as understanding" she said, her voice a distant echo.

You shook your head, clenching your fists to the side. "There's nothing to understand. I regret it, ok? Isn't that enough?"

"Is it?" Irene asked, stepping closer. "Or do you regret being caught more than the act itself? Do you regret the pain you caused her or do you regret the pain it left in you?"

Her words hit too close to home and you turned away, staring at the faded imprint of a picture frame that once hung on the wall - a reminder of what this place had once been. You could still hear the echo of Sakura's laughter that had resonated in this room.

"This is what you traded for a moment of weakness" Irene's voice appeared once more. "An emptiness that echoes in your heart, in your life. And you know very well it's your own fault. Yet, you let it spiral"

You swallowed hard, trying to find your next words. With difficulty, you managed to speak through your tight vocal cords. "It doesn't matter" you said, voice trembling. "I can't change it. I can't undo what I did"

"No" Irene agreed. "But you can confront it. You can stop running from the truth, no matter how ugly it is"

You turned back to her, searching for something in her otherworldly features - absolution, maybe, an answer to all of this. But all you found was her cold, unyielding gaze.

"What now?" you asked quietly.

Irene extended a hand, and the apartment faded around you, replaced by the faint flicker of something new.

"Now" she said. "we see the consequences of your actions"

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The world crumbled and rebuilt around you in the form of a late autumn evening. The air was crisp but heavy, carrying the scent of leaves and the distant promise of winter. A stark contrast to the snow-draped beauty of the Christmas night when you first confessed to Sakura.

Now, autumn loomed like an unwelcome guest. The trees lining the path were skeleteal, their branches gnarled and reaching out to the gray sky like twisted hands. The ground was a mess of fallen golden leaves.

Sakura stood across the past you, her arms crossed against the chill, though it was obvious it wasn't the cold that's making her shiver. Her scarf - a pastel pink you had bought her for Christmas long ago - coiled around her neck elegantly.

"Say it" she demanded, her voice trembling. "Say it Ethan"

"Kkura, I-"

"Don't lie to me!" she snapped, her sharp voice cutting through the still autumn evening. The brittle leaves crunched as she shifted her weight. "Just...don't. Please"

She looked at you for a fleeting moment, and for a heartbeat, she resembled the Sakura from that snowy christmas - the one whom you had poured your heart out to, the one who had said 'yes'. But now, the light in her eyes was a gone, replaced by a storm of pain and anger.

"Let me hear it from you" she whispered, her voice on the edge of breaking. "Don't make me piece it together from hints and whispers. Please"

You dropped your gaze, deeming yourself no longer worthy to hold hers. The autumn wind picks up and the leaves swirl as if to mock your silence.

"It was a mistake" you muttered, voice barely audible.

"A mistake?" she repeated, her laugh bitter and wounded. "You don't acidentally cheat on someone Ethan. You don't just trip and fall into someone's bed"

You were once again remined of the pine-lined path, her standing there with snowflakes in her hair, her laughter so carefree like she's the happiest person on earth. Now, that warmth was nothing but lost, extinguished by you.

"It didn't mean anything" you pleaded, voice desperate. "I swear it didn't mean anything ,Kkura"

She shook her head, the motion quick, like she was trying to expel you from her memory. "Do you even understand what you have done? What you have taken from me?"

"I-"

"No. Let me tell you" she interrupted, her tone gaining strength as her eyes glistened. "You have taken every moment I trusted you, every second I thought was safe with you, and you have crushed them Ethan. What did I do wrong? What part of me wasn't enough?"

"Stop" you whispered, voice trembling. "Just stop"

"No" she said firmly, leaves crunching beneath her boots as she steps closer. "You don't get to ask me for anything after this. Not now. Not ever"

You looked at her then, really looked. And the pain in her face tore through your heart like a thousand daggers.

"Sakura, please" you begged, scrambling for scraps. "I regret all of it, ok? I regret everything. Please, I-"

She let out a hollow laugh, one that seemed to make the dying branches overhead shattered. "Funny how regret comes too late"

Sakura took a step back, her shoulders stiff, her hands trembling as she wrapped the scarf tighter around her neck. She hesitated for a moment, before looking at you straight in the eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Ethan" she said coldly, the words laced with brutal finality. "I hope it was worth it"

And then she walked away, her form growing smaller in the dying twilight until she had been reduced to nothing but a distant dream. The rustle of the wind reflected the hollow of your own regret.

The present you watched, unable to cry, unable to make a sound. Because you knew it was your very own actions which have lead to this. Do criminals cry over the unspeakable deeds they have commited?

"There" Irene's voice appeared once more. "Winter held promise. Autumn held loss. And you let it all fall away"

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You didn't even notice the shift in scenery this time - your mind too exhausted with emotions. What Irene wanted to show you, you didn't care anymore. You had seen enough. Seeing more will bring nothing but pain.

But you stared at the new scene before you like a lifeless ghost.

It was your apartment, again. You wanted to burn the place down at this point. Maybe the pain will crumbled to ashes that way. Anything to escape the ever nagging regret.

It was Christmas time - the fist Christmas without Sakura. The scent of her baked cookies and the hum of hers to Last Christmas was nowhere to be found, though the song played on lazily from an unattended television nearby. The sound of traffic beyond the windows seem more melodic.

The you of that very moment? On the bed, tangled in sheets but there's nothign cozy about that. You looked like a corpse, still and unmoving - lost in thought. Your bare body does nothing to aid cancel out the vision.

But you weren't alone. No. Though you actually were, deep down, your physical self weren't. The woman lying next to you is unfamiliar in ways that only someone you're totally ignorant of would be. Her name escaped you, though it had been exchanged over shots at the bar you didn't even like. She was asleep, her bare shoulder peaking out the tangle of sheets.

You searched her face for a few moments, trying to find something firm in those beautiful features but only finding emptiness. You sat up, swinging your numb legs last night had taken a toll on and ran your fingers through your nest of hair. The room smelled faintly of her perfume - too strong for your taste. Nothing like the clean, subtle one Sakura always wore.

Sakura.

You pressed your palms to your face, trying to ground yourself - make peace with reality and escaped the past - but the pain has d rooted deep inside, growing deeper each day. And your worst enemy had become yourself.

"Does it feel better?" Irene asked, studying the confusion flashing across your eyes. "To indulge in the pleasure of the flesh - a momentary escape from reality. But it never fills the void, does it? It only digs it deeper"

You didn't answer. Not because you have no words but because you are too tired. Too tired with yourself.

"Look, Ethan. This is your present. A hollow bed. A hollow life"

Just then, the girl in your bed stirred and shifted and you caught a clear view of her face, though curtained by her silky locks. It's not Yunjin, no. You had parted ways long ago. This one will soon follow the same fate. Your head pounded and so did your heart. There, you are reminded again.

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Fragment 3

The thing about one-night stands is they are supposed to last for a night and then forgotten. But that title wouldn't suit Kazuha because this was the third night you found yourself with this beauty. Maybe, this is a new addiction apart from the countless shots you had downed in the bar. Or maybe, it's the way she sucked your cock so well on your very own bed.

"Mmph...does it...feel...good...." Kazuha asked through slurps and licks as she feasts on your cock - tongue swirling around your slit before poking your tip to the inner wall of her cheeks, making it bulge. Her face there - ruined so perfectly with mascara running down her eyes and drool spilling from her lips only served to earns a grunt from you. Not to mention her bare body, ass raised to show off her thick cheeks.

"Mhmm...I think I'm doing good" Kazuha deciphered the answer herself as she released your cock from her warm hole. "Look at all this precum. You like my pretty mouth on your cock that bad, huh?"

The answer was unnecessary and Kazuha proceed to plant kisses along your throbbing shaft before coming back up to collect the precum from your leaking slit, all the while maintaning eye contact.

"Can't wait to taste your thick load" she muttered dreamily as she swallowed you again. The pleasure that flooded your brain was phenomenal and you had to try not to buck your hips. Kazuha had already demanded to be the one in charge. And you didn't want to left cockblocked.

Kazuha seemed to sense your desperateness because she took more than half of your shaft into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she sucked the life out of you.

"Kazuha...fuck. Don't stop" you mumbled, your body in absolute bliss. And she didn't plan to. Because she liked choking on your cock as much as you loved fucking her pretty little mouth.

She went deep, lodging your meat into her throat. She held it there, eyes unblinking as she watched your distorted face of a victim of lust. The tightness and the warmth was like nothing, squeezing your shaft in all the right ways. Kazuha was born to be a cocksucker. No doubt.

She finally drew back, gliding her lips up across your meat until it came off with a pop, a string of drool still clinging to your slit.

"Now are you gonna fuck my face or what?" she asked, and that instantly became your favorite question in this hollow life.

"Gladly" you answered as you held her hair in a makeshift pony tail, lowering it gently until your tip has disappeaered into her moist lips. Her eyes gleamed, a silent challenge. And you are not the one to back down from challenege.

You immediately starts dunking her head on your cock again and again and again, obscene gags escaping her throat as your tip speared into her oral hole. A couple strands of her raven locks ame undone, falling and sticking with drool to her face.

"You like it, hmm? You like me using your throat like a fleshlight, you cocksucking bitch" you asked as Kazuha can only respond in more gags and chokes. Her eyes water, the tears mixed with the mascara flowing in tiny rivers across her cheeks - an absolute vision of a slut. Did she wear it on purpose so that it paint her when you fuck her face?

Her throat is brusied by now, no matter how strong of a throat of steel she possesed, no girl came out of this kind of pounding unscathed. But she didn't seem to care because she took it like a champ as you use her mouth like your very own sextoy. Afterall, this is what she asked for.

You let her go for a moment, pulling her face off your cock in one swift pull. She gasped, drool spilling in waterfalls as she huffed like a bitch in heat.

"You really didn't hold back, huh." she asked, voice raw from the brutal thrusts. "I bet you are addicted to my throat. Wouldn't be surprised if you can no longer cum from your hands alone"

"You talked too much for a cock drunk whore" you complimented her as you tighten the grip on her hair, making her scalp burn. "Now, suck me off until I feed you that load you so desperately crave"

"Mhmm, with pleasure" No more words were needed after that as Kazuha dived back down on your cock, devouring it like the cock hungry beast she is. It's messy and sloppy. She no longer choked on your cock but the way she's slobbering all over the upper half of your length was more than enough to make you levitate.

Her hands cockscrewed what her mouth couldn't reach while she bobbed her head up and down as she fucked her face on your cock. If her face was messy then, it was even messier now - a filthy canvas of drool and tears and mascara. The picture of a pretty woman so degraded finally made you break.

Kazuha moaned around your cock as you erupted in her mouth, sending shots after shots of your hot thick load down her throat. And she didn't let up, sucking you through your bliss with undiminishing fervour.

After what felt like an endless ride of bliss, she finally pulled you out of her mouth but not before giving your spent rod a couple licks.

"Didn't I do good, daddy?" she asked, the name sending a shiver down your spine.

But as soon as the bliss is over, the regret came. Sakura. You never knew how much power she held over you. How badly you needed her. Kazuha's blowjob was mind numbing but not enough to numb the ever-growing pain in your heart. But if sex could make you forget it for just a moment, you will gladly took it.

Kazuha wriggled her ass in a suggestive rhythm, oblivious to your inner thoughts. "Daddy, can you fuck my ass next?"

Anything to block out the pain.

Really, anything would be ok.

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You blinked, and suddenly, you were back to the present - the diner. It was still the same place, same scent of coffee and grease lingering in the air but the weight in your heart felt heavier, like it might crush you entirely.

Irene was back in her initia position across you in her booth, studying you with those cold eyes tht betray no feelings.

"You've seen it" she said, shifting in her seat and her christmas-themed dress didn't look so awkward to you anymore. "What you've lost. What you've become"

You tighten your fists on the table. "I know okay? I fucked up really bad. And I'm suffering the consequences. Happy?"

She raised any eyebrow. "Do you? Because knowing is not the same as doing"

You looked away, your gaze landing on the window. The streets were deprived of life now and the snow fell as relentlessly as ever, enveloping the world in white. You wished you could see the beauty in it once more.

"What am I supposed to do?" you asked, your voice low. "I can't just undo everything"

"No" Irene agreed, leaning forward. "But you can decide what you will do next"

Your jaw tightened. "And what am I supposed to do? She's gone. She hates me. There'a no coming back from that"

Irene'a gaze softened just slighty. "Sakura's wounds might not be yours to heal, Ethan. Some damage can't be undone. But your life - your choices - they are all yours. You can keep running from them, hiding youself in regret and pain or you can face them"

Somewhere distant, Heather's hyena laugh erupted again though this time, you envied her. When was the last time you can laugh like that?

"And what does that even look like?" you asked, throat tightened.

Irene gestured to the diner around her. "That's not for me to tell you. But you have already knew the answer, don't you? You always have"

You stared at her, a realization sinking deep into your heart. "You are saying I should go for her"

Irene tilted her head. "I'm saying you need to stop running from yourself. Whether that means going to Sakura or not....it's up to you. But if you don't, you will stay here" She gestured vaguely, encompassing more than just the diner. "A hollowed out version of yourself. Is this what you want?"

You studied your reflection in the murky surface of the cold cup of coffee. You had seemed to age in minutes. Was it the weight of revisiting the memories you had locked up for so long?

"No" you whispered. "This ia not what I want"

Irene leaned back, gaze unwavering. "Then decide, Ethan. You can't rewrite the past, but you can write the next chapter"

For a long moment, you were silent, staring out of the window at the dark, snowy Christmas night.

When you looked up, the ghost was gone.

The diner had grown quiet, save for the ocassional clinking of utensils. The clock indicated 11 sharp. Time had flown in a blink.

Just as you decided to leave, the bell on the dier doll rang again, welcoming a new arrival. You didn't want to look up. Enough hocus pocus for one night. But you did anyway. And you are not sure if you should be glad or regret that you did.

"Sakura?"

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Happy Holdiays Everyone.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

snow white

kinktober, day fifteen

a/n: i really wanted to play around with a fairytale this kinktober season and i came up with maybe too many ideas for a bunch of different ones, but this one just stuck with me for months, so i had to go with this one.

summary: that was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

warnings: snow white!reader x various, dark!prince!billy russo, miners!steve rogers, bucky barnes, thor odinson, miguel o'hara, marc spector, matt murdock, frank castle, dark content, smut, fairytale retelling, innocent!reader, references to loss of virginity, arranged engagement, assassination attempt, violence, poison apple, kidnapping, somno, polyamory, reverse harem, time jump (for domestic and slutty purposes), kissing, fingering, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, overstimulation, oral, handjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, gangbang, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, unprotected sex, creampie, dark ending

word count: 6746

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masterlist |��join my taglist | kinktober 2024

Once upon a time, there lived a princess. 

You, to be exact. 

However, your day-to-day life, that wasn’t a part of you that one could define as something very regal, not lately, not since your father had died and left you in the hands of his late wife, a vain woman he had only married a short time prior to his passing. 

There wasn’t much you were allowed to do any longer as your stepmother was perhaps a bit too overprotective of you in her own cold way, even though many of the chores the sea of servants that buzzed within the castle took care of, that for some reason wasn’t off limits to you, if not encouraged by the queen. 

But it was all out of love, wasn’t it? 

“Oh, there you are!” your gaze fluttered up to find the prim and familiar figure stalking towards you in the gardens, “what in the world are you doing out by this ghastly old well?”

“Prince William,” you stiffened up slightly at his presence and swiftly did a curtsy, “w-what are you doing here?” 

“Ah, come on, Snow,” his palm brushed against the edge of the stone well, briefly cleaning it a bit before he leaned against it, “how many times do I have to tell you to call me Billy?” 

“Your Highness,” you swallowed nervously, “I’m just not sure that would be completely appropriate. You deserve to be paid with the utmost respect.” 

“Oh, I agree,” a sly smirk slithered across his chiselled features, “though, I do think my fiancé should be allowed just a little leniency.” 

“Oh,” you put on a smile for the royal, “you got engaged? Congratulations! Is it to someone I know?” 

“I’d sure hope so,” he grinned, and the next words that rolled off his tongue caused your face to drop, “it’s you.”

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but flinch as he stepped to get closer to you.

“…excuse me?” you breathed, your hand fluttering up to the neckline of your modest gown as you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest.

“We’re to be married,” he caught your hand and kept on smiling, “I just sorted the last of the details out with your mother a few moments ago.” 

“Stepmother,” you corrected him hazily before uttering, “I–… how come I didn’t know about any of this? Why didn’t anyone think to ask me what I wanted?” 

Billy’s face then scrunched up at your question, as if it was the strangest of reactions to have at such news, “well you know now.” 

“That’s–,” you stared back at him, your eyes wide and horrified before you ripped your arm back out of his hold, “no.”

“What?” 

“No, I don’t wanna marry you,” the words flowed out of your lungs. 

But to your astonishment, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom then only chuckled, “what do you mean you don’t want to marry me? Of course you do, everyone does.”

“Well, I don’t.” 

Slowly, he seized your arm in a bruising grip before inching closer to you and leaning down to sternly whisper in your ear, “you better get rid of this attitude before you become my wife.”

The following week when the queen suggested that you go for a walk through the nearby woods, an activity you’d formerly thought to be banned as all your previous pleas throughout the years had failed, you nearly stumbled as you rushed to accept the opportunity. 

Where this newfound kindness had come from that you had no clue of, though you weren’t going to argue now as the chains around you slowly began to slacken. 

The queen’s protective nature for you stayed fast however when she sent a guard to accompany you, though one you’d never encountered before as you spent so much time in the castle that you knew all of the others by name. Perhaps he was just new? 

Though when you eventually came upon a clearing and you decided to take a small break in that peaceful and serene glen, it all changed so quickly that you nearly got whiplash. 

One moment, you were grinning up at the treetops, whistling back to the birds building a nest up there, and the next, the guard shadowing you had raised a dagger up high and lunged it down upon you. Thankfully, luck was for once on your side and you managed to twist just enough for it to miss your sternum and instead slice through your sleeve and cut your shoulder. 

When you tried to run, a shrill scream erupting your frame, the knight caught your arm before you could manage to escape.

Though just as all hope seemed lost, when the dappled sunlight caught and reflected in the shiny blade as he rose it back up high, it never pierced your heart as a pickaxe instead suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, flying through the air and lodging itself right above the guard’s brow. 

He stayed standing for a second, blood trickling down his face, before the warrior’s body fell backwards and collapsed on the forest floor. 

Your frame shook like a leaf on the wind as you stood there, eyes wide with horror, watching his brain leak and stain the moss below your feet. 

“Are you alright, my lady?” a deep voice called from behind you, though it still took you a moment before you were able to rip yourself out of your petrified state. 

As you slowly twisted around, you saw seven men standing at the edge of the clearing, all of them except the blonde one in the middle with a pickaxe clutched in their hands. 

“Are you hurt?” the miner missing his tool spoke again, taking a ginger step closer. 

Still reeling, unable to fathom that you nearly just lost your life, you blinked, “I–… I–…” though just continued to stand there, frozen in the middle of the storm. 

“You’re bleeding,” a dark-haired man further down the line uttered before the muddled confusion that bloomed on your horrified features caused him to gently gestured to your arm and guide your gaze down to your shoulder. 

“O-oh…” you blinked back at the gash, though still couldn’t pierce through the fog to do anything more. As your glossy eyes flickered back up to gaze at your heroes, the woods around you began to spin as you then blubbered, “you saved me… I–… I–…” before the whole forest went black and you collapsed into a pair of quick arms. 

“Wow, it’s alright,” a voice washed over you as soon as you came to, “you’re okay.”

After your eyes had found the source of the deep timbre, they then flickered around to take in the unfamiliar home you now found yourself in.

“Where am I?” you asked hesitantly as you sat up in the bed you’d been planted on. Looking around the space, it wasn’t the only one as the whole room was filled with enough sleeping arrangements for all of the strangers. 

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” the long golden locks on the man sitting by your feet rustled slightly as he raised up both hands in a gesture of goodwill, “you’re in our home,” he informed you before his neck twisted and he shouted out the open bedroom door, “hey guys! She’s awake!”

As the rest of the men from the forest began to filter into the dormitory, your legs curled up beneath the blanket and you swiftly hugged your knees to your chest. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” one of them asked in a careful tone. 

“I–…” you felt your heart thump in your chest as your wide eyes danced between the burly figures, “what do you–, w-why did you take me with you?” 

Taking a step forward, a dark-haired one said, “well, we couldn’t in good conscience just leave you back there and let you bleed next to your assassin,” he then tilted his head, “plus my healing supplies were all back here.” 

As you glanced down to discover your slashed sleeve cut off and missing with a bandage instead wrapped around the ghastly cut on your upper arm, you then blinked back up at the stranger and asked, “you’re a healer?”

“No, not really, I’m a miner, we all are,” he gestured to the others. 

“Yeah, we work in the mines out west on the other side of the village,” the one leaning against the doorframe shared. 

You faintly recalled the mines they spoke of, though you hadn’t been out there since you were a child, the memory however of the glimmering jewels it produced still sparkled brightly in your mind. 

“Hey, do you mind me asking,” the one standing beside the pickaxe-throwing blonde spoke, “why in the world would a royal guard want to kill you? I mean, forgive me if your looks are deceiving, but you look like just an innocent young girl.”

Averting your gaze to the quilted blanket draped over your form, you uttered, “it’s probably because my stepmother commanded him to…”

“Wow…” one of them breathed, “she has that kinda power? Then you must be, what–, some kind of lady?”

“Princess, actually,” you blinked up at them and watched as they all froze up, instantly growing so quiet that you would have been able to hear a single pin drop in the cottage, “thank you all so very much for saving me. I can’t even begin to fathom what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened.” 

“Oh, well…” the blonde one in the middle shifted slightly, visibly nervous at the discovery of who you truly were, “you’re welcome, your–, uhm, highness.”

“Please, just call me Snow. That’s what everyone does,” you waved a hand and offered him a soft smile, “what are your names?”

“Well, I’m Steve,” the one who’d thrown the pickaxe pressed his palm to his broad chest, “and that there is Bucky, Thor and Marc,” he gestured to the other miners, “and that’s Matthew, Frank and Miguel.”

“Miguel,” you spoke the name of your healer, “thank you for patching up my arm.” 

“Does it feel alright?” he glanced down at the bandage, he too clearly not having a clue how one should act around a royal, “because I could go get some herbs if you–”

“No, thank you, I think I’ll manage” you gently declined before uttering, “although, I–… what’s to happen now? I can’t just go back to the castle, I’d be dead within minutes.”

“Don’t you have anyone you trust somewhere else? Someone you could stay with?” the one named Matthew asked. 

The only person your mind managed to scrounge up was the prince you’d been unwillingly promised to, and he wasn’t just an individual you didn’t trust, but also one you feared.

“No…”

“Uh…” Marc exhaled before his glance flickered across the rest, “would you excuse us for a moment?” 

And as you offered a nod, they all filtered back out the bedroom and huddled up just outside the door, though you could still faintly catch a word or two in their discussion.

“Okay,” Steve crossed his burly arms across his chest when they all entered the room once more, “you can stay here for tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll help you come up with a plan.”

The following day, when all the miners had gone off to the mountains for the day’s work, they’d said their goodbyes before leaving you in the cottage, fully expecting you to no longer be there once they returned. 

But you didn’t leave, you couldn’t have. Where would you have run off to?

So instead, to both try and convince the entire group of you staying, yet also in a makeshift attempt at thanking them for how they’d come to your aid, you spend the day cleaning their messy abode and welcoming them home to a dining table brimming with a roasted feast, a simple comfort none of them had seen in a while. 

It had only been one of them who hadn’t instantly jumped onto the unanimous agreement to let you become a part of their household, but he swiftly received an elbow to the rib to help change his tune.

Not long passed before you soon grew close, and one night, after weeks of you experiencing a sensation you’d never even known existed, something unfamiliar that each and every one of them evoke and flooded your senses with, you finally couldn’t hold your tongue any longer as your innocence had begun to thrust you into the abyss of worry. 

You still hadn’t received a permanent sleeping arrangement even though you’d been here for a while, each one of the miners still took turns letting you borrow one of their simple beds, all of them lined up along the perimeter of the shared bedroom, and let you rest there for the night while they took the humble couch. 

So as you sat on your bed for the night and your gaze shadowed the men as finished getting ready for the night, shedding their clothing and washing up in a small basin by one of the windows, the unfamiliar feeling fluttered once more in your lower belly and drove you to part your lips and utter, “hey Miguel?” you caught the attention of the healer of the lot, “I think there might be something wrong with me…” 

Patting his damp face dry with a small rag, he brought it down upon his shoulder as he furrowed his dark brows over at you, “why would you think that?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you met his glance, “I feel strange…”

“Strange how?” he took a seat at the foot of the mattress you were curled up on, “explain it to me.”

“Well,” you began hesitantly, “ever since I got here, since I met you all, this weird feeling keeps bubbling up inside of me, like I’m about to faint or something, like I can’t think, and all I can focus on is just this odd tingling sensation almost, like–, I don’t know how to explain it, I know it sounds weird, but I swear, something’s going on, I don’t know what, but it’s weird.”

The man’s head then promptly tilted to the side and you heard him exhale, “oh, honey…” 

Your explanation also caught the attention of the rest of the miners and even conjured a small laugh in some, though Steve swiftly stepped in and barked, “hey! Shut it!” rapidly putting a holt to Bucky and Marc’s amusement. 

Placing a palm on your blanket-covered shin, Miguel then uttered gently, “I think what you’re describing isn’t something bad.”

“Are you sure?” you sat up a bit more. 

“Positive,” he nodded, trying his best to keep a straight face unlike some of the men behind him who still struggled even after getting scalded. 

“So, I’m not sick?”

“No,” he shook his head, “you’re not.”

“Your Highness,” Frank then spoke up, “have you never–, uhm, been with someone else?” 

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted together. 

“Okay, uh…” Thor sighed softly, taking your confusion as enough of an answer, “have you ever–, let’s say, kissedsomeone before?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been kissed before,” your thoughts drifted to Prince Billy, though none of those times had stirred any sensations of this sort, “but I’ve never felt like this, not ever,” your gaze then danced between and caught each of the stares the seven miners directed at you, “what’s going on? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you touched yourself while you feel like this?” your eyes suddenly grew at Bucky’s bold question, “does your little honeypot get all wet from this feeling?” and when you found yourself too stunned to conjure an answer, he went on, this time with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “I mean, if you’d like, one of us could help you. Teach you how to make it feel better…” 

“You know how to make it better?” you blinked back at him.

“Oh yeah,” his gaze dipped a bit as his grin grew wider. 

“Do you want one of us to help you?” you then heard Steve offer. 

And as your head began to rock in a soft nod, Marc asked, “which one do you want?”

But as you stared around at all of them, you murmured, “I–… I don’t know…”

“Just pick the one that gives you the most butterflies,” Matt tried to aid your decision, “the one that makes you feel like your heart lives between your thighs.”

“…do I have to pick?” you asked quietly as you blinked around at all of them, now clustered by the small bed, “couldn’t you all just help me?”

“…you want all of us to help you?” Miguel’s head dipped slightly as he tilted forward in surprise. 

“At once?” Frank asked. 

And as you offered them a nod, they all exchanged looks, silently agreeing before Steve uttered, “alright.” 

With all of the miners surrounding the bed, they swiftly kneeled down on the floor in a half-moon around you before they began. 

Before Marc, Thor and Frank the furthest from you grabbed a hold of the blanket draped over you and began to tug it down and let it crumble below your feet, Matt and Miguel to your right gently prepared you and began to undo your confusion. 

Each of their touches were feathery in the beginning as their fingers ghosted over your frame. At first, it wasn’t even in that scandalous of places as Steve and Matt even continued to hold your hands long after the thin chemise you wore had been tugged at, the neckline pushed down to expose your boobs, heaving with every fierce breath you sucked in, and the skirts shoved up, letting the linen bunch well above your hips to uncover the place where the dizzying sensation peaked to unimaginable heights. 

When the first touch fluttered between your legs, your eyes swiftly flickered up to find Bucky and Steve’s directly to your left as the pleasure was one you’d never even thought possible. 

You rapidly melted into the bliss as lingering embarrassment faded away and you soon let them crack you open even further, folding up your legs to grant them all better access to your haven. 

Even before your eyes fluttered closed, the job of deciphering which hand belonged to who was an impossible task. Floating in the sea of touches, not a millimetre of your skin was left unexplored, and neither were your untouched holes as they all turned you so molten that at one point everyone had at least one finger warm within you at once. 

Four digits stretched out your lips and both gave your mouth something to drool around and also let your moans melt against their flesh. Three of them slipped in and worked in tandem to stretch out your virgin cunt. They’d even gotten you so relaxed that two managed to sneak a finger inside of your tight little ass, plugging you up completely.

And when the still unfamiliar high began to bubble within you and creep near, worry first began to billow out of you once more, though after some soothing sentences and an ask of trust, they carried you through the overwhelming ecstasy till you were trembling in their hands and begging them to grant you that gift one more time, like an addict, already craving that sweetness once again.  

ONE YEAR LATER

“Ah-ha-ha!” Thor’s jovial rumble was the first sign you got that any of the fellows had returned after a day at the mines, “come here, princess!” 

As he entered the cottage, arms spread out wide, he excitedly caught you in a hug and lifted you up as he swung you around till you became no more than an ethereal giggle in his hold. 

“Oh, no,” you complained light-heartedly through your laugh as his stale smell of sweat mixed with soot flooded your senses, “you’re so dirty!” you tried to glance down at your dress to see if any of the grime from the mine had transferred.

Letting out a chuckle as he only tightened his hold around your frame, “you love it,” he tilted his head out of the crook of your neck and planted a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re not–,” you continued your giggle even as his own mouth tried to smother the sound, “Thor, you need to bathe first.” 

“Oh, really?” he cocked his head and slyly narrowed his eyes, “you sure you don’t wanna repeat the welcome home you gave me yesterday where you couldn’t wait? I mean, I could barely get in the door before you had your lips on me, struggling to fit my balls inside that little mouth of yours?” 

His lips first pressed against your now hot cheek before they wandered across in a straight line down to your own, not simmering down his eagerness even as the rest of his fellow miners began to filter into the cabin. 

“Oh, so that’s why you ran ahead,” Marc’s sigh caused you to break the peck, “of course.” 

Still entangled in Thor’s strong arms, you glanced over at the familiar men who crossed the threshold and slowly began to set down their tools and peel off their muddy boots.  

“Heya, boys,” a warm bubble burst within you as you flashed them all a smile. Attempting to slip out of the burly hug, Thor still kept his palm interlocked in your own as you made your way around through the crowd and began to greet the others, “how was the mine today?”

“It was fine,” Frank muttered in your ear when you hugged him. 

And as your free arm lastly found Steve’s broad shoulder in an embrace, his low voice tickled the side of your neck as he exhaled, “hi Snow.”  

“Hi,” you pressed a soft kiss to his bearded cheek. 

As you retracted and let Thor pull you back against his warmth, Miguel asked, “so, what’s for dinner tonight?” as Thor leaned back against the sturdy dining table and dragged you with him, half planting you in his lap as he leaned you back against him. 

Though as the softness of your bottom came to rest against the miner’s pelvis, a palpable hardness distracted you even through the layers of your dress, “uhm, I’ve got a lentil stew going over the fire,” your breathing began to grow unsteady as he discreetly grinded you down against his desperation, “it should be done soon.” 

“Good,” Miguel smiled, haven not yet noticed the nefarious activities that had begun right under his own nose, “I’m starving.” 

“What else have you gotten up to today?” Matt asked as he sat down on the bench where Marc had already planted himself, “did you begin that book we were talking about?” 

“I–, uh, I started it, but I didn’t get that far,” your words became a struggle to form as you tried to fight through the fog Thor thrust you into, “ended up taking a nap instead.”

“Well, that’s good,” Bucky noted, “you were tossing and turning so much last–,” though his sentence then promptly crumbled as a soft whimper finally slipped out past your lips and drew his attention to the way Thor’s hands on your hips subtly rocked you down against him, “seriously?” he swiftly scalded him, “you couldn’t keep it in your pants for even two seconds?” 

“Right,” Thor scoffed, “like I'm the only one who’s desperate,” he then buried his grasp in your skirts and before you had the chance to protest, picked it up to prove his point. 

It was frankly a bit embarrassing how wet you already were, though when Thor grabbed ahold of your thighs and lifted you up, your back plastered against his chest as his hold on you spread you wide for all to see, your cunt couldn’t help but drool for them so fiercely that even the one furthest away from you could catch a glimpse of the glimmer glinting back at him in a lewd plea.  

“Hm…” Bucky hummed warmly as he kneeled down before you, though only let his palm come up to ghost against your inner thigh and didn’t grant you the sweet relief of petting your pussy as she cried out for his touch, “your Highness, are you sure it wasn’t something else you were doing all day while we were off at work?” 

“I–,” an airy chuckle innocently escaped your lungs, “what are you implying?” 

“Well, either you were too impatient to wait for us,” you sucked in a breath as his hand finally drifted up to offer your core the softest of pets, teasing you further into madness, “or just the mere sound of the front door opening got you dripping the way that you are right now…” 

“So, which is it, princess?” Frank smirked, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall beside the fireplace, “are you a whore or is it just for us?” 

“You already know the answer to that…” you hazily smiled, though swiftly let out a whimper as Bucky removed his hand, denying you of any further pleasure. However, before you could part your lips in a complaint, Thor set you back down on your now wobbly feet. 

Your gaze found Steve’s as he took a seat beside Marc, unlike the rest of the men who began to swarm around you, their broad hands swiftly reaching for your dress. It nearly didn’t even get the chance to drop back down and cover you from how Thor had torn it up, before they nearly ripped it to shreds. 

And when no fabric was left to conceal your frame, your moment with your feet on the ground turned out to be more fleeting than you’d thought as both Frank and Miguel then shifted to stand behind you and their grasps found your form, first guiding your arms around their necks for support before they plucked you up. 

As Matt stepped up and seized your flaming cheeks to dip his lips down to yours, a whisper then washed over you as the sweet kiss ended, “can I have a taste?” and as your head began to nod, your nose momentarily nuzzled against his own before his knees buckled. 

Both Thor and Bucky enveloped a hand around your ankles, keeping you spread wide even as Matthew dropped down and made you squirm as his hot breath fanned across your glistening core. 

As your lips parted in a gasp, staring down at Matt as he dipped down to kiss your puffy pearl, in your periphery you just managed to spot how everyone’s free hand had found the tent in their pants, squeezing it for an ounce of relief as they watched you intently. 

When Matt’s tongue lapped through your petals, it wasn’t till he tilted his chin and sucked your clit into his mouth that your gaze fluttered up to find Marc’s across the room. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you moaned into the cottage, “I need–, I–, I need more–,” the plea left your lips as you tried to keep your stare lock. Though the love pecks felt incredible, it was bordering the line of crude torture, only tickling at your senses and not granting you the sweet relief the deepest depths of you yearned for so fiercely. 

It seemed like an eternity that Marc took to get up from his seat and actually cross the small room, though when he did, his palm briefly patted Matthew’s shoulder and caused the kisses to cease. 

“How much more, princess?” Marc asked as Matt got up and let him switch places. 

Though when your answer came in the form of your gaze dropping to his hard length, freed and heavy in his tight fist, one of the men holding you up murmured in your ear, “you want him to fuck you, huh? Is that what you want?” Frank’s deep timbre seeped directly into your bones as his lips dipped down to nip at your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded hazily, keeping your eyes glued as Marc stepped up and briefly swept the bulbous head of his cock through your folds. 

For a second, you thought it had been Marc himself who had slowly thrust his entirety inside of you, though in actuality when Miguel and Frank’s hold on you tightened, they’d been the ones to tilt your body just as the girth caught your entrance, and lower you down on it in one fell motion. 

“There you go, Snow,” Bucky breathed as your eyes fluttered at the stretch. Halting his palming of himself, Bucky’s hand soothingly swept up the length of you till it found your tit and cupped it gently, his calloused thumb stretching up to flick against your pebbly nipple and get your eyes to blink back open. 

Marc’s efforts were purposely slow and he gently began to warm you up for what you expected was in store. Though on one of his long and deep strokes, plunging all the way inside of your little pussy before yanking himself out completely, you only blinked and when your eyes fluttered back open, it wasn’t Marc’s cock that was buried deep within you, but instead the last man to join the fray. 

“S-Steve, o-oh!” your head tilted back slightly as his fat girth split you open. 

“Oh, how do you always feel better than I recall?” Steve groaned, the tip of him already bumping against your cervix. 

“It’s that fucking princess pussy,” Thor grunted, “I swear it’s like magic or something.” 

“No matter how many of us try and fit inside of you at once, we just can’t ruin you,” Miguel kissed your cheek, “you just snap right back and we have to stretch you all the way back out again.” 

Steve, Marc and Matt before you then took turns, fucking you slowly and building a rhythm till they became like a river, each of them only sinking in and letting their balls tap against your slick skin before they pulled back out and let the other one take a dive. As the silky pattern pushed you closer to the peak and made you dazed out of your mind, you stopped being able to tell who was fucking you when, as they all just flowed together and worked your body as one soul being. That was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

Once your first of many orgasms washed over you and rocked through your soul, your body was set back down, though only for a mere moment before Bucky picked you up into his arms and carried you with him as he lowered himself onto one of the long benches that stretched out on either side of the dining table. 

As he settled you atop of him and slipped inside your still throbbing cunt, your head tilted up in the direction of the men whose hard lengths were still glistening with your juices and your hands fluttered up to motion for them, grabbing for their girths, way before your fingers could reach them, though when they did, Steve didn’t let your touch linger on himself but instead plucked up your face and parted your lips with his cock, letting your hands take care of Matt and Marc on either side of him while he gently fucked your mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” Frank then appeared before you, wedging himself in beside Steve’s bulky form, “share some of that sugar,” his palm found your cheek and stroked it softly. As your lips left Steve with an audible pop, Frank’s fingers drifted up to bury themselves in your locks before he guided you to him and groaned as he finally felt you swallow his cock, “yes…”

However, what you didn’t expect was how Steve’s hand too fluttered up to tangle itself in the other side of your hair before they both took over your head’s movements, passing you back and forth between the both of them, though only granting themselves one long bob at a time.  

When a pair of fingers softly swept over the last of your holes, your eyebrows knit together at the familiar teasing. 

“What do you say, Snow?” you heard Thor utter from behind you as he brought his palm down to smack the curve of your ass, watching intently as Miguel’s fingertips rub against you, only shyly dipping inside the hole just above where Bucky split you open, “exactly how much more are you in the mood for today?”

And when you took your chance to catch your breath, you shot back your needy answer through your heaving intakes of air, “all of it.” 

It wasn’t till Miguel let out a gravelly groan that you knew which one had gotten the chance to claim your ass first. When a dollop of his spit landed upon your skin, his thumb wasted no time to soar up and rub it in, swiping over your little rosebud as it stretched to take his girth. 

The task of keeping up your attention to the four miners at your head became an impossible task as they gave your mouth a break for your breathless moans to flow freely and they instead came to your aid and helped guide your hands around to grant them all a bit of affection. 

With both of your holes snuggly filled up, you felt yourself near the edge once more, though it was Thor who pushed you over it as his hand coiled around your waist and snaked down to find your swollen clit in a lavish pattern. 

Though when you buried your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and trembled between his and Miguel’s burly forms, Thor’s touch dissipated and though you half expected him to join the rest up top, it still didn’t manage to surprise you what he opted for instead. 

“Holy shit!” you shakily gasped, your palm nearly slapping Bucky in the chest as you felt Thor angle himself behind you and press his cock in beside Miguel’s, who’s dick was already more than enough for you to handle on its own. 

“Shh,” Bucky tilted your chin down for you to catch his eye, “don’t act like this is your first time, princess,” he kept his own pace selfish as the silky wall parting him from the rest grew thinner than ever, “you can take it,” his palm tapped your cheek lightly as he smiled at how you overcame the staggering sensation, “just as you always do.” 

And take it you did, soon gushing all over them as the three miners emptied themselves into your holes, pumping you full and leaving you a leaky mess for the remainder to enjoy while they all found a seat to relax in and watch you descend further into madness. 

It was Frank who then flipped your molten form around, planting himself on the very same bench, and twisted you around for your back to be melting down against his front. He slipped in effortlessly as the two loads that dripped out of your ass aided his fat girth as he buried himself completely, fucking the other miner’s cum that much deeper inside your utterly wrecked hole. 

“How’s she doing, huh?” Steve asked as he and Matthew stepped up between your parted legs, his fingers coasting down to spread open and inspect your pussy as it too leaked, “you think she can take a bit more? You think she can take on the two of us?” he briefly pumped two of his fingers into your quivering hole as he awaited your answer. 

“I–, you can try,” you panted, hazily blinking down at how Matt’s digits too came down between your thighs and began to draw rude patterns over your puffy pearl, “I don’t know if I can do it, but you can try.”

“Atta girl,” Matt flashed you a smile before each of their touches was traded out for something much more overwhelming. 

With Marc as the last one remaining above your head, he stayed patient and simply stood there, stroking your hair and even dipping down to press his lips to your cheek as your poor pussy struggled to take the two cocks your loves attempted to ease in there. Though, when your eyes widened at the eventual success, the man behind you only let you stare at the severe stretch a moment before he tilted your head back, supporting it with both of his hands as you caught on and parted your lips for him. 

As he fucked your face, one of his hands briefly swept down to your throat as he fed you more of his length and spotted how a dull bulge of him appeared each time you gagged around his girth. 

You felt as if you’d slipped into a trance by the time everyone had gotten the chance to cum inside your sweetness, yourself falling apart around them enough times that you lost count. Though even so, as you layed there, various burly men enveloping your half-continuous form in their warmth, your eyes blinked open and spotted the few who’d gotten the privilege to go first and how they’d at some time grown hard once again and were now pumping their cocks in their fists, with all of their greedy gazes glued on you.  

The seven miners always warned you to be careful while they were off at work and you were all alone in the secluded cottage. Even though it was located in the middle of the woods, they still advised you not to open the door for anyone, not even if their looks deceived you. 

You should have heeded those warnings the day when an old hag knocked at the cabin door, because she didn’t turn out to be just a sweet old lady as you had thought when you first spotted her through the window, dark cloak drawn up over her grey hair as she clutched onto a heavy basket of apples in one arm and thumped her free fist against the front door. 

All she’d asked for had been a sip of water, one your kindness couldn’t deny her of. 

Though your gravest mistake came when you accepted her seemingly kind offer of gratitude in the form of one of her apples, because when you sank your teeth into the crisp red fruit, the produce suddenly turned rotten in your grasp, granting you a brief glance of the truth, of the potent poison it withheld, before the effects took ahold and cast you into an eternal slumber. 

The enchanted sleep however wasn’t like the one you’d heard tales about as it in truth only shut down your body as the rest of your senses still stayed awake, alert and aware as ever to the things around you, though forever helpless to whatever could occur. 

When your dear miners returned that day, the sight that found them utterly broke them all. 

And when they discovered that you’d received a fate worse than death, a few of them had to lean on superstition in order to cope. 

Though superstition was what superstition often is, just a fairytale. 

No matter how many of them attempted to press their lips to yours, you stayed asleep as true love’s kiss turned out to be no more than a bedtime story. 

That’s how you ended up in a blossoming glen, not far from the cottage that had grown to become your home, encased in a glass coffin. 

But that’s also how he found you again…

Prince Billy had been on a hunting trip the day he stumbled over the clearing you rested in, his deepest desires he’d assumed forever lost, so perfectly on display for him in the middle of the woods and with no one to stop him from taking you with him back to his castle. You had been his fiancé after all, so if your fate as his wife included you being a little less of an active participant than you’d been previously, then so be it. He could be content with you as nothing but a living doll… in fact, perhaps the royal even preferred it… 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[k0yaz]

Hi love 💕 May I request comfort/fluff one shot Arlecchino x fem Reader who developed a terminal illness a few years back and is now often bedridden but is getting better however Arlecchino is still super overprotective of her

white light.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, terminally ill reader, angst, but there’s comfort yay I know yall love this, LOTS of mentions of death, like a ridiculous amount, dw reader doesn’t die but grim reaper bullies us every chance he gets like damn, or is the grim reaper a she, that means my friend is immortal since if death is a woman it’ll never come for them, sorry off topic, very soft arle, yes we love our soft king walskskfj, why is the shower so cold help me, not proofread.

A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE AND IT TURNED OUT SO NICE HOLY also, school is starting soon so I might have to go on break in couple months but no worries I can find some time to write and it’ll be a while into the year until i actually need a break yk <3 🕯️

The fluffy layered clouds hovering in the sky slowly parted themselves to reveal illuminating gleams of sunlight pouring into the room through the window curtains situated to the right of your bed. Slow gusts of wind began to join the warmth of the gold light, brushing along your skin and causing an array of goosebumps to bloom along your arm. You were lucky. Not too long back, your immobile body was enveloped into the same bed, a sickly hue painting your face as your pale tinged lips could only part to cough out a few strained noises.

Perhaps the gods had took pity on you? You supposed you’d never figure out the answer as to how your body curved back from a terminal illness in its final stage. It was supposed to be incurable, and your body back then seemed to agree with what should have been. You were dangerously dangling right above the realm of death, only a hair apart from succumbing to your imminent demise. The doctor who noted your worsening state only had a strike of pity in her voice whenever she’d inform Arlecchino of your current condition, shaking her head as the words: “she won’t make it.” muffled through the door seperating your room from the outside.

It hurt to hear. Not for you per say, but more to hear the emptiness in Arlecchino’s voice when she attempted to dismiss the doctor’s words coldly. She didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t want to hear that your condition was only drawing you closer and closer to death, she wanted to hear that you atleast had a small chance of surviving. As much as she tried to choke back the bitter pain in her unwavering voice, she always clung onto that small sliver of hope deep down, internally calling out to a sea of nothingness in hopes that something would come help you.

Sudden news of your recovery, or rather your condition suddenly improving one day was nothing short of a miracle. It shouldn’t have been possible at all. You were around the final month mark, your entire body burning with an agonizing rush of soreness as you wanted to plead for death to take you away from the unbearable discomfort searing every limb of your ghastly and thin form. That night you had gone to bed, hoping to escape the aching pain of your illness eating away at you. That was when you saw it. You dreamt of a faint glow of white light—or was it a slight pale yellow? The dream was vague and confusing, and held no meaning at all. The light simply danced in circles before you as your life trajectory seared across your eyes.

However, the dream must have meant something.

The next morning you had awoken, your body feeling much lighter all of a sudden, as you had the strength to now sit up completely. Hands carefully massaging the thick blanket draped over your lap, you blinked in confusion upon realizing that you were indeed alive and able to sit up. Sure, you were still incapable of moving around or sitting up for long, but originally, you weren’t even able to raise your body a quarter of the way up, as it would simply result in your spine slamming back into the sunken, comfortable mattress.

When the doctor made her way into the room, performing her checkups which she believed to be futile and tragic, her initial expression of sorrow shifted to one of quick shock. This shouldn’t have been even the slightest bit possible. Arlecchino’s reaction was all the more endearing the moment the newly discovered news made its way to her. You’d never forget the rare smile of pure relief and happiness crossing her usually stoic front, seeming as if Arlecchino was glowing in that moment.

She had attempted to clear her throat and position herself upright, concealing the internal delight bubbling in her mind at that moment. The door had softly creaked open, the sway of the old hinges on your bedroom door being the only noise, along with the quiet howls of wind, resounding within the cell of a room that held your life by a mere thread.

You simply sat there, your scrawny form nearly engulfed by the heavy blankets cascaded onto your lap as the light livened the hue of your face. And when that sweet smile made its way onto your lips weakly upon seeing the harbinger hover before your bed, Arlecchino had to suppress every urge of hers to hem you between her arms in a tight hug and never let go. She wanted to embrace you with every drop of love and affection lingering in her heart as her blackened hands tightened into your back, like a promise to never let you go. Since then, your condition had steadily improved. Months passed, and then years. At this very moment, you now had the ability to walk around and perform minor tasks adequately, yet you still remained bedridden for the majority of your time.

A light pain slowly overtook the side of your chest abruptly, drawing out a few heavy coughs from your throat as your palm pushed against your left breast in an attempt to soothe the throb pushing and pulling against your heart. Quiet ticks of the clock seemed to inch in sync with the rugged beats of your heart, both echoing throughout the room in a sort of twisted harmony. Although your condition had gotten better, storms of weakness and coughs would still persist through, as this was quite a serious illness you suffered from.

The silk white blankets enveloped your limp frame, cascading over your body and situated slightly below your chest, while the back of your head burrowed into the pillows to bask in the favorable comfort enshrouded around every outline of your lounged body. Your chest rhythmically rose and fell as you choked out a few labored breaths, still clenching your fingers against the fabric of your loose shirt covering your chest.

Your vision suddenly started a gradual spin, objects within your range slowly drawn out of focus, and not taking long for the spin to pick up the pace as your vision suddenly shifted to a bleary mess of the room. Head tilting back, you rasped out a line of shaky breaths as the frightening episode of dizziness quickly subsided as soon as it began, causing a sense of panic to rush through you briefly while your chest rose and fell in uneven motions from your initial fright. In that very moment, a small screech of wooden hinges caught your attention, your head carefully raising as to not incite any possible negative reaction from your sensitive body.

Swift and heavy clicks of heels prodded across the room, a sound you’d recognize anywhere even if you were miles away. You raised your head barely even level to the headboard, delivering Arlecchino a feeble smile as her eyes softened upon meeting yours. Slowly, you took her hand into yours, palm resting over the top of her defined knuckles as your thumb circled along the cursed gradient of her hands gently. She could only breathe out a grateful sigh, her head dropping in a restful state as she rested herself onto your shoulder affectionately.

“Are you feeling any better?” She almost immediately questioned, her usually composed eyes having a flicker of concern dashed across them. Her eyes wandered along your frail body, the hints of worry still subtly etched onto her face as her grasp on your hand below hers grew increasingly taut and stiff as she awaited your answer. As much as you wanted to chuckle and tell her you were okay, you clearly couldn’t even say that much.

“Hm. Same as usual. Can’t move my legs well today, but I’ll live.” You casually answered, not taking in the impact your words might have placed onto Arlecchino.

Live.

She was so glad you were able to live.

Arlecchino suddenly dragged her teeth along each other, her mouth remaining closed as the grit of her teeth quietly bounced off of her cheek into her eardrums. It took everything she had to swallow back that wretched feeling boiling up to her throat, her heart wrenching and flooding with discomfort upon hearing the way you threw your life around so casually in your words. She had always been extensively protective over you ever since your condition deteriorated, yet it grew exponentially once you began to recover over the years. She’d always tend to you, sometimes never leaving your side for hours on end as she’d just sit there, head lowered and lips pushed against your frail hand.

Her grip on your hand tensed noticeably, making you shift your eyes up to her lowered dark gaze, staring off into an endless abyss as her expression just seemed…soulless and empty at the mere thought of your passing away. She was afraid. Afraid that just when she believes that her beloved would live despite being in poor condition, she’d walk into your room one day to discover your heart dead still, body completely limp and deceased.

The thought of that made her hand noticeably quiver between yours, disturbing images of your possible sudden death plaguing her mind like a broken subliminal record trying to shatter her soul by tearing away the one person she loves most in this cruel world. It was indeed cruel, as this very world had targeted the reaper to loom over the side of your bed at all times, carefully awaiting the moment to take you away from Teyvat. Arlecchino internally cursed herself at the idea that perhaps this punishment was because of her. She wanted you to be spared. You weren’t the one with blood on your hands, she was.

Despite her agonizing thoughts gnawing at the back of her mind, your sudden firm grip on her hand made her head snap back up abruptly, eyes locking onto your thin fingers cupping her shaky hand in place. If she could, Arlecchino would cry at this very moment, allow herself to shed a couple tears. Yet she knew she couldn’t. She didn’t want to worry you any further, especially in your current state.

“Arle, I’m staying. Please, don’t worry about me. I am better now, right?”

“I know. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around.”

It was evident that Arlecchino had a difficult time a few years ago, when you were announced to die in under a couple months. She had to mentally prepare herself to lose you soon. She was used to it, you were just another person in her life that slipped away too soon, right?

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t bear losing you. It was too much even for her.

Arlecchino needed you in her life, and she’d wipe out the entirety of the world just to keep you safe.

Your hand reached up to graze along the skin of her cheek, smiling as she instinctively leaned into your touch. Her eyes fluttered shut as she held your hand in place against her cheek, opening her eyelids once more to gaze at you lovingly with red x-marked eyes.

“Hey Arle, I’m still not feeling the best today…so do you think you could-“

You didn’t even get a chance to finish your hesitant sentence as she lowered herself onto the side of your bed, squeezing herself next to you as her arms gently circled your torso and grasped you against her. You only hummed out a content sigh as you felt your slouched back press to her upright chest, the difference in your postures just making the moment oddly romantic and sweet. Arlecchino’s face buried into your shoulder, intaking a soft inhale as if she missed your scent clouding her senses every time she was close to you.

It didn’t take long for you to drift off to sleep in Arlecchino’s arms as you curled up into the warm blankets piled over both of you. Arlecchino, still awake, quietly shifted her weight onto her side to glance down at you, smiling softly upon seeing your peaceful rested expression. Maybe finally, she rinsed the lingering blood splattered on her hands that led you to this awful fate. She’d rinse it a thousand times if it meant that you would remain safe like this for as long as you lived.

However in this very moment? Arlecchino had forgotten every sense of dread clawing at her constantly, instead focusing on your huddled up form engulfed between her protective grasp.

She swore that she would never let you go again, and she would treasure every inch of you. Not even death can do you two part.

A/N: omg I kept switching between being proud of this and being not so proud bc I had to stop midway through and I lost my train of thought AUUUSHSHDBFN anyway yayayayashshdhd I loved writing this so much AND CALM DOWN ON THE ARLE REQUESTS HOLY SH-

ok bye I’m gonna go on character ai cause I can’t sleep to bed

[butterymangowrites]

distribution system

paring: cat hybrid kageyama tobio x fem reader

warnings: dub-con, smut, hybrid au, stray hybrid kageyama, social discrimination, power imbalance, domestic life, kageyama with his platinum face card, kageyama has a tail

word count: 4.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes. thank you for reading!

Being a stray hybrid was exhausting. Tobio thought as he wandered around a new neighborhood trying to find food after every house in the last one shooed him away.

Being a stray hybrid was exhausting. Being a bone-thin, dirty black cat hybrid was worse. 

He looked ghastly—hair long to his chest, cheeks all sunken, and without a smile on his face, Tobio looked unapproachable. Some people said he might have rabies, warning their own hybrids to stay away; he was scared of that, too, but only because he didn’t know what it actually was, just that it was fatal and humans hated it. 

Did he have rabies? He felt fine though. Tobio thought as he put his hand through the narrow opening of a trash can that was likely to have some food waste in there. After some time rummaging through, he grabbed onto a bottle; it was milk. When he shook it softly and felt some milk left inside, Tobio got his dinner. 

“You shouldn’t drink that. You will get sick.” 

A voice interrupted when he was almost done with the meal. It was a human woman in very nice clothing, the kind he saw humans in the office area wear. His previous owner also wore something like this, the male one, the one who hit him when he was drunk and angry at his wife. The wife was his favorite of the two, always patted him gently on the head and gave him nice things—snacks, toys, letting him watch TV and play with a round leather ball in their small backyard. But when he knocked over some of the flower pots, the husband forbade him from touching the ball again. 

The wife disappeared one day, so Tobio ran away. 

“Here.” The human took something out of her shoulder bag and handed it to him. “Take this.”

It was an unopened, brand new milk bottle, looking exactly the same as the one he was holding. Too late, Tobio drank all of it, spoiled as it was, it filled his belly for the night. Together with the milk, Tobio saw a banana. He wanted that.

“Sorry, this is all I have.” 

It was funny thinking back to the first time he saw you, that it was the guilt in your voice that made Tobio carefully look past his long hair at you again. Being closer in order to take the food from your hand and seeing things clearer than before, he had never seen anyone so concerned about how they didn’t have more food to give away, concerned about him. And because being a stray hybrid was exhausting, Tobio really wanted a home. 

He finally succeeded that night. He found one, after roaming around for many years…

— 

High up on a building, that was your place. It wasn’t big, but Tobio didn’t mind. He was just happy to be warm and have a roof over his head. 

Your bathroom had a tub, small but deep, he could only fit in there if he sat with his knees up. He did that while he let you wash him, at a loss on how to adjust the water temperature and not knowing which was the shampoo and which was for the body cleaning. So he just sat there in silence, not even turning the water on so he didn’t cause any problems, till you knocked and asked if he needed help. 

Your hands were smooth, slathering the body wash over his back and chest while he watched you, his now-clean hair tied up with a big claw clip. Having his field of vision expanded made Tobio feel exposed, but it was not totally a bad feeling, just a bit foreign after many years of having it down to hide his face.

“You wash,” you pointed down to his crotch, “down there by yourself, okay?”

Tobio nodded, didn’t mind. He understood you didn’t want to touch him there, you probably didn’t want to touch him anywhere, only doing it out of necessity because he was such an incompetent cat who didn’t know how to use a human's shower. He used to know, he just forgot. Tobio hoped you were not mad. 

—

It was the next day when you took him to the hybrid clinic for a check-up. He was healthy, needed to put on some weight, yes, but fine nonetheless. The doctor said the hybrid was in his early 20s and prescribed some vitamins, and just like that, the visit ended. Before you left, one of the staff suggested you buy a collar. 

“Is it necessary?” you asked before looking around the waiting area and saw that every hybrid wore one. “Okay.” 

You bought one in a random color after trying to let the feline hybrid choose and he just stared at you. He was tall, hovering over most people in the clinic. You had to tell him to crouch down so you could put the newly purchased collar on his neck. It was blue, cartoon printed. This was why making rational decisions was important. 

Next stop was the haircut. This time you handed him a magazine and tried again by letting him pick a style for himself; however, he just pointed at the first model he saw. Nothing was wrong with a mohawk, and you would have believed it was a thought-through decision if he had turned the pages of the magazine a little and at least pretended to contemplate. He did neither. 

Same with the breakfast that morning, you asked if he wanted blueberry or strawberry jam on his toast, he answered with a nod. When asked again, he pointed at the jar closest to his hand and didn’t finish the toast.

The stray you brought home—Tobio—definitely understood human language and was not mute since he was the one whispering his name to you when you asked what he was called. For some reason, he just did not make decisions. And… he hated strawberry jam.

So you rectified that, selecting two most popular styles and let him choose again. But before he could point, you said, “This is your hair, Tobio. Yours. You can choose how you want your own hair to look.” 

He listened and blinked. And for the first time in twenty hours, Tobio took his time deciding between things. He picked the style that would get his bangs cut very short, and if his swishing tail was anything to go by, he seemed to like the end result very much. Despite his head looking like a coconut with a wig on, he still looked good, all because of his face. 

The man was strikingly handsome. Without all the matted hair masking his face, his features were bare to the beholder’s eye. Dark blue eyes, sharp jawline, small perky nose, and lips—though chapped and dry—were baby pink. He was a sight for sore eyes. 

Clothes, toiletries, and extra groceries that included cat food and snacks he admitted to liking were all carried by him. It was a long walk from place to place and from the train station to yours, but Tobio didn’t allow you to take any bag out of his hands. 

It was already dark when you entered your apartment. You unpacked the groceries and officially taught him how to use the shower, learning that he was illiterate when he asked if he remembered correctly which bottle was the shampoo and which was the conditioner. He got them mixed up but was right on the body wash because it was a different brand with a different label. 

What you did was point out the difference in the words written on the bottles, but the easiest way you could think of was to place them in fixed positions, so you did just that, temporarily resolving the problem.

“Shampoo on your left, conditioner on your right,” you told him, pointing at each respectively. “But don’t wash your hair today, that would be a waste of the products the salon put on it. Unless it—stinks?”

Tobio, who was sitting on the rim of the tub, touched his hair, trying to pull it to his nose for a sniff, but it was too short. Suddenly, he turned to look at you, expectation clear in his eyes.

“You smell for me.” he bowed his head and waited. 

“Oh, no need.” You waved your hands no. “Should be okay.” 

You were not going to do it, but his head stayed down and showed no sign of coming back up. Not wanting to disappoint him, you stooped down for a quick sniff. The tip of your nose brushed against his freshly cut hair, it was soft and silky now, no trace of yesterday's dirt and grime. And it smelled so good you could have died. 

Tobio breathed out a low purr before he looked up at you again, his pupils dilated. “How was it?”

“Nice,” you replied. “No need to wash it.” 

“Okay.” His voice was small, faint. 

Out of the bathroom, you prepared dinner for two and arranged a sleeping spot at the couch in the living room as you did the night before. Your apartment was a one-bedroom, so even if you wanted him to sleep somewhere nicer, you didn’t have a better option. 

You didn’t expect to see him lying on the cold, hard floor the next morning, sleeping in the fetal position and hugging himself, pillow and blanket left on the couch. 

“Why were you on the floor?” you asked that same morning while teaching him how to make basic breakfast—a bowl of cereal for you and two slices of toast for himself, this time topped with blueberry jam. He ended up asking for more with a growling belly and round blue eyes, piercing through your heart like a sharp stalactite falling down on tender meat. The damage was so severe that you had to tell him not to seek permission for food again; it was all his to have. 

“My legs are too long.” answered Tobio. “They went over the couch arm—hurt.” 

And the cushions were probably too small for him to sleep with legs folded. Decision instantly made, you let him sleep with you on the bed from then on.

—

It was nice not having to go about people’s houses searching for food and sleep at the train station when it rained. Tobio looked out the bedroom window, sitting on the floor with his head under the curtains, his tail flicking slowly as he watched the wet street below and couldn’t help but feel grateful for the human sleeping on the bed. 

It had been one hundred and twenty two days since he had been here. 

The bed was springy; it rocked a little when he climbed back on no matter how careful he tried to be, making you stir but overall still pretty much in your deep slumber. He settled on his side, laying his head on the same pillow as you. If he were to pull you to his chest, no one would see you again. Tobio was so big now with a tremendous amount of food consumed daily. 

So much money was spent on him just to put skin, fat, and muscles on his bones, and you never once complained about the increasing expenses. He knew numbers now, and he saw them on the bills each time and noticed that you spent less on yourself. You had never gotten the blouse you said you wanted, and you ate half sometimes just to keep the leftover for the next day. He wished he could do more than just helping around with the household chores. 

“Thank you,” whispered Tobio.

He wanted so much to cuddle up to you, sink his little fangs into your skin, and touch you in the way that would get him cute noises as a reward. He liked being close to you, finding himself awake nose to nose with you more often than not and using the time before you woke to count your eyelashes. You didn’t like any of that, always pushing yourself away and hurrying up to get off the bed. 

Pouting, pouting, all he did when that happened was pout. But in his sleep, instinct took over nevertheless, he would find himself clinging to you anyway come morning, and he would pout, pout and pout…

—

This was why you never considered adopting a hybrid before you found Tobio that night. You didn’t want to feel like a scum excuse of a human being, getting so wet that you heard the squelching sound when Tobio pumped his fingers in and out of you, deep, nudging your front wall now and again, making you squirm. 

You know what many hybrids were adopted and bought for, and you didn’t want to be one of those using them for sexual pleasure, letting him help around the house was bad enough. He didn’t ask to be here, you offered. What he was doing now might just mean he got the wrong idea about what he was here for. 

“Tobio, no.” 

“I’m so hard. It hurts.” 

He propped himself up on one of his elbows, pouting while he watched his hand’s movement under your pajama shorts. “Please help.” 

“Tobio, we need to talk.”

There was no talk, Tobio flipped you to lie flat on his body, his hands tugging your shorts and underwear down before doing the same with his. When your bare core touched his, the cat hybrid moaned loudly and rubbed you frantically against his cock. 

It had never come this far, small touches here and there but never this. 

“I—don’t want—,” you gasped, “to use you.”

“Please use me. Please use me. Use me.” He pouted more, tears welling in his eyes. 

Damn those eyes to hell though you were certain Tobio himself belonged in heaven. It was these same orbs that had you ask if he wanted to come home with you, earning yourself the sweetest companion one could ever ask for. 

Coming home to see the apartment cleaned, plants watered, laundry done, nothing was left to be done but dinner because he was scared he would burn the kitchen down because there was fire involved. He was getting better at it now, you feared cooking for you might be next in his plan. Power imbalance hung in the air, but Tobio had no clue. 

“You’re not here for this.” You tried to say, turning away from his lips that grazed all over your face, trying to get to your mouth. “You are my friend.” 

“I’m yours.” 

“My—friend.” 

“Umm, yours.” he purred, so cat-like. “You own me.” 

Why did he only listen to what he wanted to hear? Not just yours, but your friend, that was what you were trying to convey. 

“You are not a thing to be owned.” 

For some reason, his eyes darkened. “Don’t be too good to me.” 

Next thing you knew, you were on all fours, ass up, face down, hands in his grip behind your back. His hot shaft spread your wetness to your clit before fooling around with your entrance. 

“Don’t—”

“Must be warm in there. Wetter, too.” the hybrid whined, claws sharpened, penetrating the skin of your hands. “Please let me get in, please please.” 

“Tobio, don’t be bad.” That was the first time you reprimanded him, and you felt him freeze. “You’re not a thing to be used, you hear me?” 

“But I’m a pet, your pet.”

“You’re not just an animal to me.” 

“But that’s what I am.” 

“You’re half human.” 

“You don’t understand.” His mouth was next to your ear when he said it. “I am more animal than human, all hybrids are.”

Following his statement was the tip of his cock threatening to push in, you had to cry out his name again to stop the deed. 

“Please. Just one dip,” he begged. “One dip and out.” 

He was so stubborn, you had never seen this side of him before, literally nonplussed as to how to handle the persistence, the negotiation, and his pitiful cries. He had never been like this, even when you told him his favorite milk was out of stock, all he did was nod and say he was happy with whatever you had. 

“Just once.” You choked out the words. “Only one dip and you’re out. You let me go, okay?” 

You made a deal. 

“Okay.” 

The head was not the problem, the thick body and base were, stretching you to the point of pain. You heard a low growl rumble in his chest as he went deep to the hilt and lingered there. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said, tremblingly. “Please don’t be mad.”

You couldn’t imagine being mad at Tobio, not even when he didn’t keep his word, pulling himself out and slamming back into you. Again and again he went, pulling at your wrists with each thrust for leverage. Your upper body was lifted from the bed from how hard he pulled, head lolling from side to side. 

“Please don’t put me back on the streets.” He bottomed out with a cry. “Keep me, keep me.” 

The wanton scream you let out was embarrassing, your pussy throbbed and clenched around his cock as he pounded on the right spot. And Tobio was a quick learner, he hammered down on it repeatedly, fucking you into the mattress until you came with a shudder, eyes rolled to the back of your head; you were glad he didn’t have to see that from where he was.

He shot out a lot of cum when he came, filling you up to the brim. One dip and out? Sure. The thing was, you weren't even mad at him. His clear blueberry eyes trained on you after he rolled you onto your back, tilting his head to one side before he bent down to give a kitten lick at your mouth. 

No, you weren’t mad at Tobio, you were mad at yourself for giving in. 

—

The leather ball he used to play with was for a sport called volleyball. Tobio saw it on TV one day and immediately pointed at it with excitement. So being a good owner as you were—allowing him to fuck and hold you close after each night, albeit not without some begging and whining first—you took him out to an open gym to play with other hybrids. 

Him having to wear a collar when going out bothered you, and when it strained his neck while he was out on the court looking up at the ball, you told him to take it off. 

“Why?” Tobio asked. Every hybrid in the gym had it on, he didn’t want to be different. 

“It’s too tight on your neck.” 

“It’s fine.” 

A round of laughter erupted from the nearby court when a rabbit hybrid fell on her face trying to get the ball. It was from the humans who sat and watched the play, one in particular seemed concerned—perhaps her owner—seeing as he stood up and told her to get back on her feet. 

“You just don’t get it.” you shook your head feebly and walked out the court back to your seat which was just a chair situated not far off the sideline. But as an afterthought, you turned around and said, “Just loosen it a bit, yeah?” 

“Okay.” 

You seemed to dislike the idea of him being an animal, but at the end of the day, he was. He loved watching birds from the window and making noises at them. He loved sleeping, and when he woke, after exerting himself with the chores until the energy ran out, it was nice to curl up on the couch for a nap. 

It was not him who didn’t get it, it was you. Tobio liked being an animal. 

So when your boss, who was one of the owners of the hybrid who played volleyball with him, approached and broached the idea of getting him on a cat food commercial you and he were working on, Tobio wanted in, even more interested when the older man said this would earn you extra money to take home after the shoot ended. 

“See? Tobio wants to.” The boss gestured his hands at him. 

“But—”

“Yes,” Tobio said, earnestly. 

“Let’s talk about the shooting date together with the team on Monday.” 

The deal was sealed. 

—

The shoot was stressful for you, seeing people coo at how cute Tobio looked in faux cat ears, some even dared coming close to scratch under his chin. Tobio liked the attention, but he didn’t like strangers touching him. He would look for you, asking for help with his impossible-to-deny eyes whenever that happened, and you would come to the rescue. 

“Aren’t cat hybrids supposed to keep to themselves?” you asked, walking ahead of him, just about five minutes more until you reached home. “How come you like people so much?” 

“Not all the time.” Tobio replied. “I just happened to like them today.”

“Doesn’t it bother you,” You stopped walking and turned to face him. “being treated like that?”

“Like what?” 

“They played with you with a laser pointer, Tobio. Trying to grab your tail, calling you names.” You held on to your shoulder bag as you spoke. “They didn’t respect you at all.” 

“I’m an animal.”

“This again?” 

“You have to accept that I am one and there is nothing wrong with it.” 

There was no anger in this voice, never with Tobio, only dull sadness that dimmed his usual bright eyes down a notch. 

“But you don’t agree, do you? That’s why you’re trying to change me.” 

“You missed the point.”

“And what was it?” 

When you didn’t respond instantly, he continued, “I like wearing a collar because it shows people I’m taken, taken by you, not a stray no one wants. I like that you own me.” 

“Oh Tobio—”

“Is it wrong that I love doing the housework, that I don’t care that people want to give me treats and play laser pointer with me? I know what I am and how they see me. I’m an ani—”

“I don’t care that you’re an animal, a hybrid or whatever!” you interrupted with a soft shout. “I’m saying that no matter what you are, you deserve respect,” you said. “I don’t know what you experienced that made you think you can’t pick between strawberry and blueberry jam. And they can play laser pointer with you for all I care, but they should be aware that you have a life and mind of your own and not just assume they can do it without even asking. Just because you’re fine with it doesn’t make it okay.” 

You paused to breathe. 

“And trust me those people—those people in the studio, they don’t—they don’t understand this, yet.” You closed your eyes. “After the shoot, one of them asked me if they could buy you.” 

Opening your eyes again, he was so close you had to tilt your head back to look at him. 

“I don’t want to hear anyone say that about you ever again.” 

His kiss didn’t take you by surprise. His tongue was welcome, and his moan was your guest. Tobio held your hand all the way home and didn’t let go even when the apartment door closed behind you and him, instead, he kissed you against it. Then from your mouth, he headed downwards.

“I thought I disgusted you.” he said, nipping at the soft flesh of the thigh he put on his shoulder. 

“That is crazy. Ouch! Tobio, your claws.”

It had been almost a year already since Tobio moved in, and with his typical cat behavior, your body was full of scratches, some faded, some didn’t. He had a second haircut just two months ago, the same style with his bangs cut short, resembling a coconut for a while until it grew out past the stage, and now it was just in the right length—perfect for a grab. 

He liked when you played with his hair, loved it when you pulled hard during sex. For someone who was soft spoken and had a hobby of watching birds and playing volleyball, Tobio was surprisingly perverted when it came to fucking. 

The man purred loudly when he got the taste of your soaking folds, lapping greedily at the core and dragging his wet tongue up your inner thighs, collecting every drop like it was essential for his being. 

When your hands remained by your sides, taking action too slow for his liking, Tobio searched blindly without pulling his face away from your nectar and grabbed one of them to put on his head. Automatically, you gripped a handful, hearing him groan with relief and satisfaction. 

“So good to me.” he mumbled, his thumb leisurely circling your clit. “I like you more than anything.” 

More than the milk you gave him that first night, or the banana, even the blueberry jam could not compare to you. And despite him not being brave enough to make a choice of his own haircut, he did make a choice in that moment he followed you home—he chose you. 

[jam3sacaster]

“How does it feel, huh?”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / Declan is set to interview your actor boyfriend on his show, and uncovers more than a few home truths…

18+ FANFIC / Angsty Declan, our fave 💋 DV mention. Reader character aged at 21.

“30 minutes.” You grin towards Declan O’Hara, who was hidden behind his desk, his eyes scanning his production notes furiously. “Thank you.” He murmured, not giving you the decency of eye contact. The ghastly day outside only reflected the inner mood at Corinium — harsh and embittered. “I know it’s a lot for me to ask but… please be nice.” You speak in a hushed tone, and his melting chocolate eyes take a quick glance upwards, his hardened expression softening as he began to bask in your presence.

Recently, you had been courting Frankie Powers — an American, super-hot, effortlessly talented actor. And you’d made absolutely no bones about it in the office, he was in love with you, he asked you to move into his dreamy mansion in California, he had asked for your fathers permission to marry you. But, being the self-righteous shit that he was, he had recently been increasingly distant — he had slept with, and impregnated, his lead makeup girl and paid her off to maintain her silence. Whilst you were pitifully aware of this commotion, you had the most excruciating feeling that Declan was too. You had grown increasingly close to each other in the past weeks, and had noticed his reproving dismissals of any conversations you had attempted to make about Frankie.

“Anyway, Cameron asked me to give this to you.” You peeped, slamming a neatly scribed bundle of papers onto his desk, the scalloped sleeve of your black blouse riding slightly upwards. Momentarily glancing towards his new stack of documents, Declan observed a smattering of scarlet bruises, beginning at your wrist and trailing up to your elbow. “What the fuck is that?” He roared, gripping your wrist and yanking irritably at your sleeve. “Declan, please don’t…” You whimper, desperately trying to release yourself from his grasp but alas, it was too late. Declan had almost tore your sleeve from your arm, revealing the true extent of your horrific bruising. “I’ll ask again, what the fuck is that?” His face grew puce with fury as he yelled, spit flying from his mouth like a rabid dog.

“Honestly, it’s nothing. I really fucked up dinner last night and Frankie was so hungry after shooting all day.” The words fell from your stammering mouth in a timorous, blundering manner. Declan’s unbridled fury rose through his body like a kettle being brought to the boil. It was despicable to do this to any woman, he thought, but he was beginning to feel an overwhelming sense of protection and longing towards you. For Declan, this was enough. All but launching himself from his chair, he thundered down the tangerine-orange corridors of Corinium, barging past secretary after makeup girl until he reached the dressing room, pounding white, clenched fists against the door. “Declan! Please don’t!” You beg, chasing after him and tugging at the bottom of beige tweed blazer.

“Can I help you?” Frankie asked, opening the door, and most definitely, immediately regretting it. Declan grabbed the collar of Frankie’s shirt, bunching it up in his fists and pinning him against the wall. With bated breath, you anxiously chomped at your fingernails — furtively grateful that Declan was so wildly protective. “What the fuck, dude?” Your boyfriend stuttered, frozen with terror. “I saw what ya’ did to her. Does it make ya’ feel like the big man?” Declan growled into his ear through gritted teeth. Frankie opened his mouth to speak, but simply couldn’t. “What about now, someone ya’ own size picking on ‘ya? How does it feel, huh?”

Desperately, you fought off the urge to smirk, internally overjoyed that Frankie had finally got his comeuppance. But, before you could finally pull Declan from him, you were startled by the deep, wet smack of a punch. Please let him be okay, you thought to yourself, eyes clamped tightly together. “Fuckin’ bastard.” Declan grunted, shaking his bloodied knuckles that now stung acutely. Opening your eyes, you saw Frankie laying on the floor, slightly dazed and nursing what will most likely be a dislocated jaw. Thank God, you thought. “Thank you.” You peeped in a quaint voice, gazing up at Declan with glazed eyes. “No need. He won’t be botherin’ ya’ again. Please tell Cameron that tonight’s show is cancelled.” He huffed, outstretching his hand and caressing down the length of your arm tenderly. Following Declan out of the dressing room, you peered up at him with a burning sense of desire — what a magnificent man.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Halloween

REFERENCES (Banshee; Ghost; Ghoul; Goblin; Haunt; Specter; Vampire; Wraith; Origins of Halloween)

Banshee

A female spirit in Gaelic folklore whose appearance or wailing warns a family that one of them will soon die.

Banshee came from combining the Gaelic words meaning “woman of fairyland,” but any positive associations with fairies ends there.

Are female spirits that, if seen or heard wailing under the windows of a house, foretell of a death in the family that lives there.

Today, the word is most frequently heard in the idiom “scream like a banshee” or “wail like a banshee,” which shows the power of myth and the imaginative power of language, since probably no one has actually heard one.

Ghost

Most common meaning today is “a disembodied soul” or “the soul or specter of a deceased person”, which came next, a meaning based on the ancient folkloric notion that the spirit is separable from the body and can continue its existence after death. It originally meant “vital spark” or “the seat of life or intelligence,” which is still used in the phrase “give up the ghost.”

An older spelling of ghost, gast, is the root of aghast (“struck with terror, shocked”) and ghastly (“frightening”).

The German word for ghost, geist, is part of the word zeitgeist, which literally means “spirit of the time.”

Ghoul

A legendary evil being that robs graves and feeds on corpses.

Ghoul is a relatively recent English word, borrowed from Arabic in the 1700s.

Because it’s spelled with gh-, it looks vaguely like the Old English words ghost and ghastly (which share a common root in the Old English word gāst, meaning “spirit” or “ghost”).

In fact, it comes from the Arabic word ghūl, derived from the verb that means “to seize,” and originally meant “a legendary evil being held to rob graves and feed on corpses.” The word was introduced to western literature by the French translation of Arabian Nights.

Goblin

An ugly or grotesque sprite.

Usually mischievous and sometimes evil and malicious.

Haunt

To visit or inhabit as a ghost.

However, this is not the original sense of the word.

For centuries, it had a perfectly unfrightening set of meanings: “to visit often” and “to continually seek the company of.”

In the 1500s, it began to mean “to have a disquieting or harmful effect on,” as in “that problem may come back to haunt you.” The meaning here is simply the lingering presence of the problem, not the possibly scary nature of the problem itself; it is applied to thoughts, memories, and emotions.

The noun haunt retains this fright-neutral definition, “a place that you go to often,” as in “one of my favorite old haunts.”

A lingering idea, memory, or feeling may have led to the ghostly meaning of haunt, or one by a disembodied or imaginary spirit.

Specter

A visible disembodied spirit.

Specter originally meant “a visible disembodied spirit” in English—a good synonym for ghost. But, unlike ghost, the notion of being visible is paramount in specter, which came to English from the French word spectre, which developed directly from the Latin word spectrum, meaning “appearance” or “specter,” itself based on the verb specere, meaning “to look.”

Specere is also the root of many English words that have to do with appearance: aspect, conspicuous, inspect, perspective, and spectacle.

Vampire

The reanimated body of a dead person believed to come from the grave at night and suck the blood of persons asleep.

Legends of bloodsucking creatures go back to Ancient Greece, with harrowing tales of them rising from burial places at night to drink peoples’ blood before hiding from dawn’s daylight. These stories were popular in eastern Europe.

Originally comes from the Serbian word vampir, which then passed from German to French, coming to English in the 1700s.

The extended senses of vampire, “one who lives by preying on others” and a synonym of vampire bat, were both in use within a few decades.

Wraith

The exact likeness of a living person seen usually just before death as an apparition. The distinguishing quality of a wraith, compared with other ghosts, is its specificity.

Originally, it referred to either the exact likeness of a living person seen as an apparition just before that person’s death as a kind of spectral premonition of bad news, or a visible apparition of a dead person.

When referring to a living person, it’s a synonym of doppelgänger, or the “spirit double” of a living person (as opposed to a ghost, which refers to the spirit of a dead person). Doppelgänger is now frequently used in a broader sense to mean simply “someone who looks like someone else.”

When referring to a dead person, wraith is a synonym of revenant, which originally referred to a ghost of a particular person and subsequently has been used for a person who returns after a long absence.

ORIGINS OF HALLOWEEN

The traditions of Halloween have their origins in Samhain, a festival celebrated by the Celts of ancient Britain and Ireland.

Samhain marked the end of summer and the onset of winter, and occurred on a date that corresponds to our November 1st.

It was believed that during the Samhain festival, the world of the gods was visible to humans, and the gods took advantage of this fact by playing tricks on their mortal worshippers. Those worshippers in turn responded with bonfires on hilltops and sometimes masks and other varied disguises to keep ghosts from being able to recognize them. Things tended to get spooky and dangerous around Samhain, with bloody sacrifices and supernatural phenomena abounding.

Samhain chugged along for centuries, until Christianity poked its nose in: in the 8th century CE, All Saints' Day, a somewhat new Christian holiday, got moved from May 13th to November 1st.

The evening before All Saints' Day became a holy—that is, a hallowed—eve. Within a few centuries, Samhain and the eve of All Saints' Day had been merged into a single holiday. Protestants of the Reformation and all that came after largely rejected the whole thing, but the holiday persisted among some communities.

19th-century immigrants to the U.S., including many from Ireland, brought their Halloween customs with them and deserve no small amount of credit for the holiday as it's celebrated in the U.S. today.

More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Word List: October

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Eight)

Summary: After your Grandmothers intervention, Tommy learns the horrible mistake he's made. Will he be able to get to you in time before you commit your life to the man who had used you as a punching bag throughout the entirety of your relationship?

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining.

Word Count: 4061

Authors Note: This chapter was supposed to be the final part of Uptown Girl, but it was starting to get too long with too many scenes. So I decided to split it into two. The final chapter will hopefully be posted next Friday!

"Fuck sake" Tommy grumbled under his breath with a frown of annoyance creased firmly between his brows as he stormed into his office past the preparations for your wedding.

Yes, that's right. Your wedding was to be held at Arrow House. The wedding of the woman who he believed had not only played him, but played with his scorned feelings, he'd carelessly let himself slip into a comfortable normality with.

The finer details for the grand event had been meticulously planned for weeks. And with both your denial and refusal to give any attention to the dreaded event, the arrangements and your fate were quietly arranged without your knowledge by the man who would claim you as his wife in a days' time on the grounds of your childhood home. And as the rightful owner of Arrow House, Tommy was now to host the wedding of the woman he had let himself fall in love with. Fuck.

Slumping into his leather chair with a grunt, his melancholy feelings for the thrilling moments you had spent in your shared home resurfaced as his eyes drifted to the bronze horse you had once fought over. The very same ornament that had cemented the beginnings of your passionate love affair.

"What?" he raised his head from the piling mountain of documents that had forgoed his attention to the sculptured figurine stoically stood judging him.

" Shit..." He leaned back into his chair as the gnawing feeling of guilt that had been eating away at him came out in a rumble of disgruntled huffs and heavy sighs of discontent for having treated you so cruelly the previous night.

His fingers itching to call you, to hear your witty comebacks playfully put a spring back into his famously brooding temperament, he looked longingly at the phone sitting beside him. One call away from hearing your voice, from settling the pining within him he felt having been away from you for the first time since his arrival.

Had he made a mistake? Shit, he didn't even give you a chance to explain, Tommy thought to himself as his fingers clutched around the receiver, lifting it to hear the operators voice echo through the line before abruptly slamming it back down as his hurt feelings rapidly shunned out any attempts to make contact with you.

Tommy Shelby was not to be taken for a fool. And yet here he was, foolishly in love with you.

" You got something to say, eh?" Tommy's furrowed brow returned to the ornament with a mumble at the beady-eyed sculpture, disapprovingly looking back at him.

Quick to silence its inaudible accusations, Tommy turned the weighty ornaments' critical stare away from him. Only to be faced with the unsightly alternative. It's ass. A clear portly reflection of what he himself felt like. A total, utter, ass. Fuck.

"Grannie...please!" Johnathan whimpered in pain as your elderly grandmother dragged him by the ear through the large doors or Arrow House after discovering the details of his devious scheming.

"Silence your sniveling, child" she scolded him, when her eyes turned in horror at the ghastly sight before her.

"Good heavens..." Grannie ignored your brother's continued pleas for mercy to be released from her painful grip tightening around his reddening ear as her eyes scanned the room at the bustling arrangements, and large decorated cake being rolled out on a silver trolley in front of her.

" Hm!" Her angry voice hiccuped with displeasure as her wooden cane of punishment came down onto the head of the figured groom atop of the intricately frosted cake. Further submerging him under layers of sponge until he met his sugary death, before marching off to Tommy's office with Johnathan whimpering in tow.

"Yes?" Tommy's creased brow rose to the sound of a knock at his door. If it was someone asking about wedding plans, they could fuck off, he released a breathy sigh, having had enough of hearing, let alone seeing the arrangements made for the grand day he'd keep himself far away from.

" Dowager" his frown softened into a smile upon seeing your Grannie meekly turn the corner.

" I do apologise for this sudden intrusion, Mr Shelby. But the stupidity of my grandson is something I must urgently address. And I will have you hear from him himself, the pain he has inflicted on his sister, and in turn you with his unforgivable actions" your grandmother spoke with a panging hurt pulling at her heart for the generational damage the male members of her kin had burdened the women of her family with.

" Hello" Johnathan peaked his head around the door with a one-handed greeting, apprehensive to face the gangster he had cheated out of hundreds of pounds.

" Make haste, you blithering idiot" your grandmother pushed her cane into his back towards Tommy stood hunched over his desk. Broad shoulders casting a gloomy shadow of fury around him.

" Johnathan" Tommy's jaw tightened as his fisted hands pressed into the mahogany wood, a stone throw away from wringing the neck of the mumbling man stood before him.

" I'm not quite sure how one goes about saying this..." Johnathan pondered nervously, trying to lessen his involvement before somebody took it upon themselves to remove his bollocks. If not by the gangster that ruled Camden, then the one that was thoroughly pissed off in front of him instead.

" In the simplest of terms, eh Johnathan? Since you find me foolish enough to have given you my money" Tommy scoffed at the nervous smile, flashing across your brother's face. His patience for high society's inability to talk straight, gone the moment he became part of their games.

" I...I have a problem, you see. A gambling one" your brother openly admitted. His unexpected confession, garnering Tommy's brooding temper as he fished for a cigarette to dull the mounting headache your family name and its members inflicted daily, if not hourly on him.

" Go on" Tommy ignited the rolled tobacco between his fingers, blowing a pummel of smoke to the ceiling as he waited on an explanation as to how you was a part of your brother's scheming. The only reason he was still entertaining the blubbering shell of a man stood across from him.

" Y/N my dear sister, has unfortunately taken the brunt of my problems" his head lowered as Tommy cleared his throat at the sound of your name and the fluttering beat caught in his chest.

" Always there to pick up the pieces but never the one to roll the dice, poor ol' girl" the weight of your brothers guilt for the way he had unfairly treated you suddenly pushed down onto his shoulders, burying his body into the floor.

" My sister had nothing to with the money I took from the sum you gave to pay off my debts, Mr Shelby. That was all my doing" he let the last of his confession slip through his sorrow for the events he had caused. For the miscommunication and hurt feelings he had cruelly inflicted between you both.

" My little sister loves me, of that I'm sure. But, she loves you far more. Don't doubt her word, Mr Shelby. She'd never do to you what I have done to her" his eyes cast down as a silence settled over the room, both Tommy and Johnathan stood quietly mulling over their feelings of guilt for the way they had treated the woman that had known nothing but a life of hardships at the hands of men.

" I have taken it upon myself to make sure he pays back every penny, every shilling of what is owed to you" Grannie stepped forward, breaking the silence between them as the last remnants of shame painfully pricked at both of the men's hearts.

" Shoveling coal " she announced his new profession as Johnathan gulped down the remaining minutes of freedom he had left before the many hours of hard labour commenced.

"Nose to the grindstone, isn't that so Mr Shelby?" she said as Tommy absently nodded his head, tired with the discussion of money as his preoccupied thoughts burdened him with a heavy feeling of worry that he wouldn't be able to salvage what was left of your relationship in time.

"23 Maple Cottage, Cheltenham. Before it's too late" Grannie gently urged his distracted mind to the phone sitting beside him before leaving him to settle the rushed mistakes he'd made.

Perching himself on the edge of your father's desk, Tommy released a stifled breath from his lungs as he pinched the throbbing pain sitting between his brows.

" Any ideas how I'm gonna get her back, eh? Tommy looked down at the four-legged statue, hoping the inanimate object that had become his counsel for the most troubling of matters would have the answer.

" Yeh, didn't think so" he huffed at the wordless reply as he stubbed his cigarette into the glass dish beside him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

" Miss Y/L/N" Frances greeted you, surprised to see you stood on the porch of Arrow House as she opened the doors to greet you.

" I just need to retrieve a few things, then I'll be gone" you looked behind her, now suddenly feeling like an outsider as your searched the foyer for any signs of life.

" You're always welcome here, Miss" she sent you an inviting smile as her eyes glossed over with sorrow for the young woman she helped raise and the situation she now found herself in.

" I'm afraid that's no longer the case, Frances" your eyes dragged over the bricks of your childhood home you had been shunned from to your shuffling feet on the gritted ground beneath you.

" Is he here?" you nervously questioned, afraid at any moment you'd face the man responsible for breaking your heart. Responsible for the guilt weighing down your shoulders you had burdened yourself with on behalf of your brother.

" Head buried in paperwork. You'll go unnoticed. Come on, dear" she urged you forward with her hand out for you to take, foregoing the many questions that nagged her thoughts as to what had your and Tommy's growing relationship take a sudden blow.

As you made your way through the foyer of your childhood home, you apprehensively turned your head to your father's former office. Expecting Tommy to be stood there, ready to give you your marching orders with thundering steps and pointing fingers for a second time.

But with the gangster seemingly occupied with the many business matters he'd let lapse during the time you had spent together, you passed the preparations for your wedding unseen and unheard as you made a beeline for the top of the winding stairs that would safely separate you from the house's new owner.

Stood in your bedroom, you furiously pushed back your tears from your reddening cheeks as you struggled to close the small suitcase filled with memories of your life spent at Arrow House.

" Come on!" You shook the leather case on top of the antique cabinet, frustrated with the flimsy clasp that was doing little, if not anything, to help you stash your belongings and make a speedy departure. The whole flustered scene and rickety furniture that had blown your cover watched under the gaze of the very man who had thrown you out. " Bloody thing!"

" Y/N?" Tommy's gravelly voice echoed to you from the frame of the door he'd been stood against as the buckle effortlessly slipped into place. Typical.

" I...I'm just leaving" your mousy voice quietly spoke through a shudder of nerves as your cheeks blushed red at the unexpected sound of Tommy's voice feet from you.

" Don't" he swallowed back his own apprehension to face you, having cocked up the very start of your budding relationship in one rushed assumption and trail of hurtful words he now shamefully regretted.

Clutching your fingers tightly around your small satchel, you turned on your heel before you were met with his approaching footsteps rapidly closing in.

" Y/N, wait" his hand grasped hold of your bag as you swerved past him and away from what you assumed was an attempt to withhold your life's memories tightly packed in your suitcase.

" Please, there's nothing here of value. You've taken my home, let me keep these" your lids welled with tears as you pulled at the small satchel, eyes cast down and away from the man battling with you over items that held no importance to him.

" Y/N, would you just hear me out" Tommy struggled with you until finally letting go. Causing the contents to spill out onto the floor as you scrambled to retrieve them.

"Sweetheart, enough!" Tommy pleaded with your frantic state as he watched your shaky hands desperately try to salvage the small collection of trinkets. Had he done this to you? Given the final blow to an already broken woman, Tommy thought to himself, crouching down as he gently reached his hand out for yours. If only to briefly calm the panic within you" Hey..."

" What?! What Tommy?" You cried, snapping your head up as you pulled your hand away.

" You've taken everything from me! What more do you want?" Your anger for him came out in a strangled sob as you tried to grasp onto the last breath of air in your lungs. Chest heaving, body aching. You had succumbed to the many years of stress that had bored down on you.

" You" he replied, his chest squeezing tightly around his thumping heart as he searched the face of the girl that always had one last push in her to continue on.

" I...fuck..." he sighed, his words getting caught in his throat after the countless speeches he'd prepared, the countless times he'd tried to call your grandmother's house to no avail. Pumping himself up time and time again, only to be met with a ringing tone at the opposite end of the line.

" I was wrong, darling. Wrong about it all" his hands brushed up your arms, fingers curling around the thin fabric of your silky blouse. Wanting to pull you into his arms. Preying you'd let him and all would be forgotten.

" No..." You shook your head, brow creasing with anger for him having discovered the truth you couldn't convince him of the previous night.

" You don't get to do this, Tommy. You're too late" you said through the sobs caught in your chest, shrugging him off as you stood up to leave.

"Y/N!" He called after you, watching the end of your skirt flow out of sight as he scrambled onto his feet after you.

"Hey!" His voice echoed down the stairs as he rushed after you, clambering to save the little that was left of your feelings for him.

Turning to see his thundering steps racing after you, you stifled back the fury that had replaced the guilt you had let yourself feel as you juggled with the bag in your hand.

" You not gonna talk things out with me, eh? Come on, I'll pour you a whisky and we'll..." Tommy impatiently tried to mend the fracture separating you both as you let the weight of the flimsy suitcase in your hand fall onto the table beside you, battling with it once again.

" Like you gave me the courtesy of the other night, Tommy?" You seethed back, cutting him off as your eyes drifted to the small clock on the marble table out of place, fingers itching to put it back to its previous location.

" I have to go" you snapped your eyes away from the turning hands behind the glass, silently bringing an end to the day.

" Y/N" Tommy watched you turn to leave, before grabbing the ticking wooden box and placing it back in your preferred spot on the ivory-stoned table. A feeble, but undoubtedly desperate attempt to please you in any way or form before you shut the doors on him for good.

" Just five minutes, eh?" He jogged over to you, trying to reason with your stubbornness.

" No, Tommy!" You pulled his hands off you that had slipped around your waist in your frantic attempt to flee.

He had hurt you, broken your heart in the quickest and cruelest of manners when he expelled you from the house you had been born in.

Stubborn to the core, but no longer in the competitive nature that had filled your days since his arrival. The playfulness you had both enjoyed, now replaced with a hardened willfulness to protect yourself from him breaking what was left of your heart.

" I have to go. I have a big day tomorrow" you said through the forced smile of deceit etched on the corners of your mouth. Fake it until you make it, had now suddenly become your daily mantra to block out the dread you felt inside.

" Wha.." Tommy scoffed, his brow knitting together as he rested the weight of his body from one foot to the other. " You're gonna marry that bastard?" He's jaw tethered with tension, hand motioning to the door behind you and the risk you were ready to take.

" What choice do I have, Tommy?" You echoed the words you'd tell yourself before you fell headfirst for the unwanted guest you once resented. Holding out hope that the one consistency in your life would change for the better more than Tommy who had been so quick to abandoned you to his own paranoia.

"You have a choice. One right here, with me. Like we promised" he stepped forward, brushing a lone tear from your cheek.

" Until when though, Tommy? Until you next throw me out in the middle of the night? Cal's a sure thing" You turned your head away from the calloused pads of his fingers cradling the side of your face, from the breathy sigh of guilt slipping past his lips.

" Look after her" your gaze darted up to the high ceilings of your former home, tears trickling down your face as you parted with your last hope and the man you had fallen in love with.

" Y/N!" Tommy threw his hands up in the air as he watched you walk through the large wooden doors. Leaving with your bag in hand like a guest rather than the permanent figure in his home, the years of your life spent together replacing the dull walls of Arrow House he had hoped for.

Fuck, he couldn't let you get married. Wouldn't let you get married. And if he wasn't able to convince you of it himself, then he would with the catalyst that would not only bring a halt to the day, but take down the bastard that had been planning it.

With the hour of your vows rapidly drawing near, Tommy stormed to his office. Pulling the small black book of connections and information learnt from within the drawer of his wooden desk.

Picking up the receiver of the brass telephone sat beside him, Tommy's fingers scrolled down the many names he had collected intel on. Harold Sterling, Dicky Jones. The two pompous men he had spectacularly exposed at your engagement ball to the one name that ignited a furious rage within him. Cal Astor.

" Switchboard" the operator at the end of the call announced as the lines connected.

" Maryval convent, Perry Bar Birmingham. The Orphanage"

" I'm sorry" Johnathan eyes cast down as he turned to you, both stood outside the doors of the church as the sound of the choir announced your arrival through the angelic notes echoing against the cobbled stone.

" Enough" you faced him, straightening his limp tie back into place as his teary eyes watched his younger sister tend to everyone but herself on what was supposed to be the most important day of her life.

"Sissy..." He grabbed hold of your hand as you patted down the creases in his suit. Distracting yourself from the event about to unfold. " Tommy, did he not..." he began before you cut him off and settled the questions his mind had been nagging him with all morning.

" He did" you gave him the answer you knew plagued his thoughts, one you wanted to distance yourself from. " This is my choice, Johnathan" you adjusted the ivory veil over your shoulder as you threaded your arm into his. " Shall we?" You smiled through your apprehension as the heavy doors opened, and you stepped into the depraved future you knew awaited you.

Holding onto your brother's arm, you grasped at his tailored suit as the many guests turned to face you. The blinding light shining past the alter, casting colours of reds and blues through the stained glass, obscuring the curling smile of the man who you would call your husband in a moments time.

Slowly you paced along the tiled floor as your eyes searched among the smartly dressed gathering of people. Chest heaving as you realised the one person you wished to see, the one person that could stop you from taking the next step your stubborness refused to let you run from, was absent.

" Sweetpea" Cal took your hand, pulling you up to stand in unison with him as the sounds of your Grannies weeping, muffled though the hankie chief clutched tightly in her hand, echoed through the bricked room. Tears anybody would look endearingly upon, but ones that only held sorrow and hopelessness for the promise to your mother she was unable to uphold.

" We are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of hands..." The priest began as Cal's eyes roamed over your body, the dress he had picked out on your behalf pleasing him enough to let his mind wander to the night he would enjoy spent in private with you. A night where you would no longer be able to refuse your duty to him.

"Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace" the words of the gowned man bounced between the four corners of the small chapel, silent with no sounds of protest.

"Then let us begin" the priest smiled to you as he urged you and Cal to join hands, when the door creaked open and the unexpected sight of a smartly dressed man with two gentlemen accompanying him slipped through. Tommy. He was too late...too late.

Grasping his fingers around yours, Cal's jaw snapped with anger as he watched Tommy take a seat with his brothers in an empty pew. His irritation at the bold move, further igniting his fury when he caught the longing stare shared between you both as your eyes drifted towards Tommy at the far end of the church.

Digging his heavy signet ring into the fleshy palms of your hand, Cal pulled your attention away from the gangsters' presence to the ceremony taking place.

" Now, Tom?" Arthur quietly leaned into his brother as his long legs, itching to be free from the small seating area, struggled to stay still.

" Not yet, brother" Tommy's eyes drifted back to your glowing beauty and the glittering rays of light cast on your shimmering dress. Imagining himself stood there with you making the vows of love and dedication he wished he could have articulated to you the day before.

" Do you Cal Meredith Astor, take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" a snort of laughter from the third-youngest Shelby at the unusual middle name, abruptly delayed Cal's response.

" I do" Cal's eyes darted to the giggling gangster, and the smirk of satisfaction Tommy had for the embarrassing echoes of laughter filling the room.

" And do you Y/N Y/L/N, take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" Tommy held his breath, as your eyes darted away from Cal's face to the pull of Tommy's pleading stare, begging you to choose him over the man that would beat you blue every waking hour for the rest of your life.

"I d..."

NEXT PART (FINAL)

Tag list: @weaponizedvirtue @un-interneted (unable to tag) @mama-ivy @kmc1989 @leighla3

@emotionalcadaver @mamawiggers1980 @sweetcheesecakesblog @cljordan-imperium

@peakyswritings @tiedyedghoulette @mostly-marvel-musings @classygirlything21 @dana-rmz

@mrsnms @vlryexsworld @themorriganisamonster @thelastemzy

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒 , various !

synopsis: when you bring your friend to ikea to help you pick furniture for your new apartment. Pinning ensues amongst other flustering events.

including: zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya, thoma,

side comments: pure fluff! also, please buy your furniture second-hand and support small businesses! avoid fast furniture when you can (ikea) and make mindful purchases. let's briefly imagine a perfect world where ikea is ethical and sustainable.

extra: mentions and implications of marriage, gn reader, favourites: zhongli & kaeya word count: 1,784

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

Being the friend he is, Zhongli would happily accompany you.

He is the type to have his hands behind his back as he follows you around. Lingering close yet respectfully enough.

If you ask him for consolation, he will be honest in the most tender way possible:

"Ah... perhaps this colour will be more suitable considering the lighting."

"You did need a new couch, right? I believe you will like this one."

You blink and then your cart is full.

Zhongli's advice is acutely precise, however, expect to exceed your original budget by another ghastly $500.

Not that he suggests buying unnecessary items, rather, he suggests quality, material and construction.

Begins speaking a tad excessively about colour coordination and lightning.

He will help you lift any furniture parts if need be!

Gradually, the trip would become a joint effort by the two of you. As if you've been shopping and living together for years.

"Look at the dining table ( Name )," Zhongli commented. The lighting of the room glittered above, illuminating your face slightly as your hands glide over the wood varnish. "It's wonderful, isn't it? You'd be able to hold all the dinner parties you wanted."

You smile gingerly, and soon you are standing next to him by the kitchen sink. "Definitely, Childe would no longer have to sit on the floor."

Zhongli chuckles and you share a teasing grin. "At least we picked out a table already- much cheaper."

Zhongli raises an eyebrow, "Oh? Perhaps we can consider this one instead?"

"Personally, I think you should agree with him," spoke an employee- a soft-spoken elderly woman- "I remember when I first bought my fiancee's dining table- fun times!"

"Oh ma'am we're not-"

"Yes, my fiancee and I do agree," Zhongli gazes towards you're slightly flushed figure and smiles gently, "Yes dear?"

You blink for a few moments; gaining your footing before replying smoothly, "Why of course, how could I not love?"

You don't notice it, however, Zhongli shares a faint blush as he later pretends to cough in his fist.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

Childe has zero taste in furniture.

His mom would choose the furniture while he used his card.

Browsing through the showrooms and picking furniture is not how he would choose to spend his afternoon, however, he'll try for you!

In this case- it's the thought that counts.

If you need help reaching or lifting anything he'll do it readily.

Don't have a cart or bag? (There were lots) Childe will hold it all for you!

It becomes an inner competition to some extent to cover up for his obvious lack of skill in furniture and home design in hopes of impressing you.

“Excuse me young man, can you please reach the duvet covers for me up top?” asks a elderly man, an embarrassed smile gently plastered on his lips.

Childe turns his head towards the man and flashes a hearty grin, “Of course.”

With ease, Childe grabs the duvet set and hands it to him, “Ah, thank you,” the man pauses before speaking, his eyes in thought, “might I ask something?”

Childe blinks and replies, subtle curiosity beneath his lighthearted tone, “Go on.”

“Have you asked your partner out yet?

Childe fumbles a bit and the elderly man heaves a near boisterous laugh. "I'm taking that as a no, ay? Ah, young couples! I might not have the sharpest eyes anymore, but you've been lookin' at them since the kitchen showroom!"

Before Childe could express a response, the man pats his back and smiles. "Best of luck! I'm sure they'll say yes."

The man then ambles away and from a distance, Childe can see his small figure fade into the throng.

"Hey Childe! Are you alright?"

"Oh... um yeah!" prompted Childe, "Is there anything else you need?"

You shake your head, your fingers scrolling through the list you made, "That should be it. Are you sure you're okay? If you'd like I could hold the vase?"

Childe smiles while his bright blue eyes pool into yours, "No I'm good, let's head to check out."

The two of you saunter to the check-out counter side by side; bantering with each other. Childe's gaze never leaving yours.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑

Diluc is not well-versed in design and colour. However, he has a keen eye for both style, price and functionality, unbeknownst to him.

You were hesitant to ask him if he could accompany you as it is without a doubt that Diluc Ragnvindr is a busy man.

Diluc himself shared hesitancy for opposing reasons.

Diluc has lived with himself and has found his dwelling to be dull in comparison to the liveliness and hospitality your former apartment held. Thus, Diluc wondered if he could be of any help.

Nevertheless, you reassured him that you wanted company regardless of his skills.

Contrary to his words, Diluc was quite valuable, especially when navigating the place.

"I found the blanket you were interested in earlier, do you still want it?"

"The colour is rather flattering... but it is your choice! Um... please don't mind me."

"Do you need help?"

Diluc doubted his opinion, however, you found yourself agreeing with him several times.

You and Diluc were currently sitting by the opposite edge of a bed, your hands inches apart.

"A comfortable bed isn't it?" you bounce on the bed a little, a smile reaching your lips, "And the mattress is only $200, a king too! I can't believe you found this deal-"

Diluc does not hear your voice, it faded just as the lights mellowed and the sensations of the blanket against his calloused hands grew fuzzy.

"... Hey Diluc?"

"Ah, yes," Diluc coughs before asking, "I'm sorry what were you saying?

You smile, "It's all good! I was just explaining how I wouldn't need such a large bed for myself."

Diluc conveys a slightly puzzled expression, "How so? If you're worried about how to carry it into the apartment then you do know that I'll assist you-"

You shake your head fervently before replying, "Well thank you Diluc! But really you don't have to-"

"Oh no, I insist."

You smile winsomely before carefully replying, "It's just... me in the apartment. I'd understand if I was living with someone- but it's not worth it in my opinion."

Diluc pauses, contemplating before replying steadily, "I believe you deserve the mattress..." There is a tentative gap between his words before he follows up, "Perhaps I... ah never mind, let's get going. You wanted to eat at Chef Xianling's restaurant for dinner right? My treat."

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇

So you invited Kaeya?

Expect relentless teasing and a carefree-complacent attitude.

However, as much as Kaeya is there for fun, he will readily assist you- not without a tease, however.

"Oh ho? Need my help?"

In regards to style and class... Kaeya can pull himself together.

However, similar to Diluc, there is a dullness to his home.

In fact, Kaeya rarely spends time in his own home: he bounces from place to place. Never lingering longer than is needed or comfortable. It is like an ever-present itch.

Yet, your home has become Kaeya's home too. Unbeknownst to you however.

It is natural for both of you.

Your home has become the longest place he has spent in. He has his space in your home, he even has a toothbrush holder and resident blanket; removing Kaeya from your home would cause an ineffable void.

Regardless of the previous facts, you genuinely invited Kaeya to come for help and company.

Kaeya makes the process entertaining! Instead of contemplating the price tags incessantly, Kaeya will smoothly subdue your worries by toying with the utensils and playing hide-and-seek in the mirror section all while slipping the item you wanted in the bag.

The two of you let loose; unwinding like children who innocently play in the kid's bedroom showhome despite being strangers to each other.

"Kaeya... do we really need this mirror?" you question dubiously.

Kaeya shares a winsome grin. "Why of course," he then gingerly places his hands on your shoulders and leans in slightly, "It holds a rather charming reflection, does it not?"

You gaze at him and sigh, "Charming? You always find ways to flatter yourself."

Kaeya merely smiles. The two of you peer into the mirror: the reflection of two souls gazing back all while Kaeya surmises.

It wasn't himself that he was referring to.

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀

You're in for a treat!

You will (quite literally) get ice cream afterwards.

Thoma possesses all the skills in the "art of making a home."

Need deals or a lower price? Thoma already has a list. What about colour and style? He has a magazine and Pinterest board ready. What about functionality and material? Don't fret! He knows all the washing labels and what goes best with your lifestyle.

Tell him the night before and he is packed and loaded.

Thoma is absolutely thrilled that you invited him.

Shopping for any household items is delightful for Thoma, even more so when the two of you are browsing through all the showrooms and inspecting each countertop.

His favourite section is the kitchen.

If you have a specific budget in mind, Thoma will ensure that not a dollar goes beyond it and he will keep you accountable as well!

However, staying within the budget while scouring the store takes a significant amount of time.

Hence, instead of another $100 added to the receipt, expect another three hours.

The two of you will heave a big sigh when you finally sit down in the car.

Nevertheless, it is all lighthearted and relaxing as the two of you reenacting imagining a space together.

"We'd set the tables over there-" remarked Thoma as he pointed his finger towards the dining table, "And we can house our pans here- it would be so since to have them hanging instead of in the cabinet."

"Browsing through the kitchens is always fun," added a mother, her arms cradling her baby, "Are the two of you living together?"

You chuckle and Thoma's cheeks grow rosy. You then reply amused, "Oh no, he's a friend of mine who I asked to come along."

The mother then shares an embarrassed smile, "Oh I'm so sorry! That was so wrong of me... if the two of you are looking for a hanging pan rack then I remember seeing an installation piece down in the marketplace."

"Thank you," replied Thoma, a smile pressed on his lips, "We'll be sure to check it out!"

As the mother saunters ambles away, Thoma mutters under his breath, "Maybe we should live together..."

"What was that?"

"Oh ah! Nothing," Thoma scratches the back of his neck before responding brightly, "Do you want me to write the rack on the list now?"

masterlist

[cryingscreamingpuking]

I do not like Urbanspook's The Painter. It is a bad example of analog horror, filled with baseless shock value content with no good payoff. Characters are brought in then killed off, the kills can be ridiculous, and it honestly just feels like a powerpoint. But I have to give Urbanspook credit where credit is due. Mona is fucking wonderful. It is rare to find female antagonists in horror media that aren't either pretty or killing for a sympathetic reason. They aren't allowed to just be sleazy and ugly in the same way male characters are allowed to be. And even when they are ugly or self serving, that later gets taken away from them. For example, Carrie was ugly in the book, fat and pimply and described as generally unappealing. But the movie? She's literally so pretty. They wouldn't allow her to be ugly. And it upsets me. It upsets me so much that media doesn't allow for flawed, ugly, morally corrupt and sleazy women in horror. In comes Mona. Mona isn't pretty. Not conventionally. She has a receding hairline, big unnerving eyes, extremely thin eyebrows, possibly a cleft palate or at least a deformed lip. Hell, when I first saw her, I thought she was a man. She's pale and oily and ugly. And she's not just allowed to be ugly, she's also allowed to be proud of it. Her self portrait exaggerated her features. Her hairline is even more receded, her eyebrows are straight up gone, her eyes are small and beady. She doesn't prettify herself, she makes herself worse. She isn't moral either. She doesn't kill as revenge for whatever tragedies happened to her, she doesn't go after those she deems guilty. She goes after the innocent. She goes after the weak, the soft. She's sleazy, and gross, and evil. And she's ALLOWED to just be evil. Her paintings are horrid and ghastly and offensive. They don't paint a beautiful, serene scene of the murders committed, they make them seem just as vile as they actually are. She is a breath of fresh air to me, and I absolutely adore her. Despite the flaws of the original material, she sticks out to me as a diamond. The woman that was allowed to be a disgusting, sleazy, horrible menace to society. Mona my beloved.

[mallowmaenad]

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl With Eyebags whose wearing an Oversized Black Sweater: I recently remembered all of my past lives. Most of it was spent as various plant life and fungi in the same twenty foot radius in a forest by a rural interstate route until a robin ate the seed containing my soul and flew to another forest where I reincarnated as her child. I would then die a tragic death at a young age to a local fox where I'd live a long life as her kit and eventually die of old age, I then spent several generations as various plant life and fungi in that forest which was eventually destroyed by industry.

I was a tree during that time and my plant fibers were processed to manufacture paper used to make a sticker placed on an orange whose peel was placed in a compost bin, eventually leading me to the dark yet decadent life of a worm until I then eventually expired and awoke as a tomato plant in the care of a kindly older woman, it is that life whose memories I treasure the most.

She was a very skilled and warm woman, and many of my cycles afterwards were spent as my own kin in generations of tomato plants in a blink of an eye. One day she took me into her car in a pot, I remember how she spoke to me. At the time she had named me Reynolds, she had set into a trend of naming me after Hollywood actors she found attractive. It was the day before her daughter's birthday and I was to be her gift, I could not feel bittersweet about this a the time, because I was a tomato plant.

She buckled me into the back seat of a car as if I was a child of her own and drove down a rural interstate route, illuminating the black sea of the night sky with her headlights as the shadows seemed to drown out anything but us. A deer with bone wasting disease stood in the road like a grim reaper, white eyes shining as her aching foot tried to react in time on the break peddle.

The two embraced in a bloody collision, I remember the deer in its last moments weakly nibbling at her flesh as they both bled out in an agony they were ignorant to, I wilted and died in that car along with her and that deer, I do not know what the journey of my soul was like, but my next life was as a patch of semi-feral grass on the side of a similar road caught in the mouth of a possum eating a partially full discarded box of Wendy's fries who was then promptly turned into road kill, when the day was new a burly Appalachian man whose stern demeanor hid a soft heart would legally and cleanly collect the cadaver and break it down, using the remains for a meal some yuppies would find ghastly. This man was my father- or rather my father in this cycle of life.

I know in my heart of hearts that you were that old woman who nurtured me so many times as her beloved tomato plants, you had the rare privilege to live your life as an incinerator at a crematorium, but the march of technology and nut after bolt you grew broken, a death by a thousand cuts, a death by a thousand bodies. Your massive metal cadaver was melted down over time, the raw materials eventually finding itself to a factory that manufactured bullets, a life of darkness in a cardboard prison only to be shunted into a pistol's magazine... your entire existence is interesting, stretching the meaning of what it means to be eaten and to live. The meek 24 year old boy thought nobody would mourn him when he was gone, you lived as an amorphous patch of greenery ahead of his grave stone.

A curious thing would happen during a visit to this boy's grave, his childhood dog either in embarrassing coincidence or a moment of sentience began to dig at where the body was, being wrenched back as it began to desperately sink his teeth into the soil, ripping you asunder. Almost as divine penance, you lived your next life as a member of this dog's litter, you'd be named after the boy, despite being a girl. Maybe the dog was given some precognition and wanted to eat the boy and take his soul into its mouth to get her the life she always wanted. You were unfortunately born with a chronic condition that led you to a young death, the girl's mother crying just as hard after the vet put you down. You were buried lovingly in her back yard where you became a tomato plant, your same mother not being as much of a green thumb as mine but she devoured your fruits all the same, eventually giving birth to another meek boy after growing pregnant during the time when your last tomato was picked off your wilted stem. I have pursued you since that day with my whole body and spirit, one part unintentional one part in this moment of enlightenment. I love you, and I will love you for the rest of forever.

Trans girl who dropped out of high school to make Hello Kitty breakcore who has her girlfriend's dick in her mouth and is high as fuck right now: Waash dat?

Their shared girlfriend sitting across from them playing Wario Land Shake It on her modded Wii U: Was I the deer with bone wasting disease?

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl: ... Yeah...