#i am laying in bed hunched over the edge of it with my head in my hands trying not to projectile vomit everywhere

[strawberriesforcait]

When you're nonverbal but you can't tell anyone you're nonverbal because you're nonverbal so you just,,, disappear

[yuvany]

PAINT ME LIKE MONA LISA

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 with an artist!reader

OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader . . . CONTENT / WARNING(S) : fluff + est relationship + not proofread . . WORD COUNT : 812 . CHECK MARK !!

( REBLOGS + FEEDBACK APPRECIATED !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

"Hee, don't move." You suddenly warn, your pencil balancing in between your fingers as you hold your palm up. "Please don't tell me a bomb is gonna detonate, babe." he jokes, and you chuckle, the sound of your pencil stratching the paper fills the room. "Are you drawing something?" He asks, and you hum. "Yup, wanna take a guess what i'm drawing?" You try to do this quickly while Heeseung is standing as still as he can. "Not sure. Care to tell me, pretty girl?" Heeseung itches his nose quickly, which goes unnoticed by you. "Obviously Mr.Handsome is my muse today."

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Saw you placing a bowl of fruit on the table, adjusting it and looking at it from all angles. Jay starts getting interested in what you're doing, so he gets closer to you from his hiding spot behind a corner. You hum delighted and return to your seat, but see Jay standing there. "Hello?" You ask with a chuckle. "Hey, sweetness. What's going on here?" Jay asked. "Nothing much, just an art project for school, they want us to do realism." You go on and explain the assignment. "So, like in the movies?" He asks, referring to how most movies use a bowl of fruits. You nod your head, and Jay gives you a kiss on the cheek for good luck.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Jake walks into your room and sees the painting resting on the floor, the paint still looking moist. It's like the canvas is whispering for him to come closer, because he does, his eyes observing each detail. Without noticing, Jake's finger gets closer to the canvas, brushing against the edge softly. "Aye! Don't touch!" You exclaimed upon entering your room and seeing him hunched on the floor. "sorry babe, but this is absolutely gorgous!" He says, a wide smile presenting itself on his lips. "Thank you, but you gotta be careful, babe." You laugh awkwardly, hunching down beside him to admire your art with him.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

He sees you pull out a sketch book and a pen, his eyes glued to the movement of your wrist. "Are you drawing me?" He asks with a smirk as he poses jokingly. "You wish." You chuckle and turn the block around so that he can get a view of it. Sunghoon takes a while to look over the rough sketch, and you start to wonder if he's actually observing it, or just zoning-out. You raise and eyebrow, and he says, "You know, I am a much better view than a simple window." He glides his arm around your waist and pulls you in. "I'm sure you are." You say, pressing you lips to the corner of his mouth.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

You and him went to an art museum, his hands holding yours while you take your time to watch each exhibition before either taking a picture, which Sunoo knoows you'll use later as reference, or pulling out a small piece of paper form your bag and a pencil as you sketch the art while explaining the history behind the artworks. "That's really interesting." He says, and follows you around while you repeat the pattern of taking a photo, sketching and explaining. "Imagine if they one day put up your art, angel." he says in awe, and you reply, "then I'll tell them that the history of it is my love for you."

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

He sees you curled up in bed with your art block on the bed as you sketch on it lazily while laying down, waiting for inspiration to flow into your head. Jungwon sees you through the door when he walks by, and walks back to make sure of what he saw. Naturally he walks in, catching your attention. You hum at the sight of him and he plops onto the floor after grabbing a pencil from your desk causing yiu to stop drawing and look at him confused. So far, you've only drawn sunflowers and fishes very sloppily. Jungwon sees them and tries to copy the best he could, but let's just say he did his best. "That's a cute one." You giggle, seeing his attempt.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Your first date with him was an artistic and creative one. He took you to an art cafe and challanged you to a paiting conset, but he underestimated you and drew a nice sunset instead, confident that he'd win the bet easily. "Times up!" He says with a smirk, and you smile brightly and let go off the brush. "Do you wanna go first?" You ask, and Riki shrugs. "Alright, but be prepared to be blown away." You clap the sight of his scenery, and he urges you to show yours. As you turn the canvas to him, his jaw drops and you chuckle. "So what do I win?" you ask after he was done gaping. "How about a kiss?" He asks, and delivers.

[wileys-russo]

aitana , ”you’re comfy”, the couch

you're comfy II a.bonmatí

you'd woken up with a start to the sound of a sneeze, clutching at your chest from the sudden noise and seeing a figure hunched over at the end of the bed.

"tana? estás bien?" you rasped out rubbing your eyes as the figure turned. "lo siento for waking you mi amor." you frowned at the obvious croak in her voice as she suddenly sneezed again, covering her mouth with her hand.

"baby you're sick." you sighed in realization, reaching over her side of the bed to flick on the lamp, wincing a little as the room lit up. "no! it is just...dust." aitana frowned with a shake of her head as you cracked a small smile.

"dust in our bedroom? that you keep meticulously clean?" you questioned with slight amusement and a quirked eyebrow. "sí, exactamente eso." the midfielder huffed as your smile grew.

"and your nose sounds blocked because..." you trailed off expectantly, watching her mind reel for an answer. "i slept with my mouth open! idiota." she smacked her palm against her forehead gently with a tut as you only hummed.

"where are you going?" she reached for you as you started to swing your legs out of bed. "to get you some cold medication and call you in sick for training." you answered, standing and dodging her hands which tried to grab at your shirt.

"no! por favor mi amor i feel fine! no temperature, no cough, just a little sneeze." she promised, quickly standing to block you from leaving the bedroom as you gave her a look of distrust.

"you feel warm." you hummed skeptically pressing the back of your hand to her forehead before she pushed it away. "sí, i am just so hot princesa." the catalan flirted with a smile as you rolled your eyes.

"mmm, smooth. get back in bed bonmatí." you pointed to the bed as she huffed but did as you asked none the less. "ven aquí, you are all the medication i need cariño." your girlfriend grabbed your hand with a smile.

"laying it on thick tonight mi amor." you chuckled with a shake of your head, climbing over her and getting back into bed as she flicked off the lamp.

"buenas noches bebé." your body pressed into hers as your legs intertwined and her hand interlocked with your own, squeezing lightly as you kissed her forehead and closed your eyes.

you'd barely drifted off again before you felt your girlfriend pull away, bending over the edge of the bed as her body seized up with a coughing fit and you hurried to sit up and rub her back.

"oye tana, you are sick amor." you winced as her coughing continued, the girl clearly having been attempting to hold it back previously as you gently rubbed her back until she stopped enough to sit up, your water bottle pushed into her hand as she mumbled thanks and took a large mouthful.

preoccupied with chugging down the water you took her brief distraction to dart out of bed and head out to grab what you needed, ignoring her calls for you to come back before she gave up with a groan and laid back down in bed.

you returned only a couple of minutes later, your girlfriend covering her face with her hand with the blanket tucked right up to her chin. "cari can you sit up just for a little bit please?" you asked softly as she nodded and you helped her pull herself up.

you rubbed some vicks on her back and chest to help with the coughing, now a little closer and with the bedroom light on noticing how pale her face was and how her nose was slightly red.

you eventually had her swallow down some cold and flu medication despite her insistence she was fine and your refusal to accept that, placing a box of tissues down on her night stand.

"hey where are you going now mi amor?" your girlfriend frowned as you didn't join her in bed like she was hoping. "to make some soup for later rudolph." you ran a hand through her hair and gently smoothed her eyebrows out with your thumbs where they furrowed.

"what is rudolph?" she asked confused as you let out a small laugh. "nothing, but you need to rest amor." you warned again gently as she let out a small groan of annoyance.

"no ven aquí, por favor." she pouted and you almost melted, squeezing her hand gently which was locked with yours.

"if you sleep now then by the time you actually need to be up i can spend the entire day looking after you mi amor." you promised as your girlfriend sighed, which rapidly turned into a cough as you winced sympathetically and pushed a new water bottle into her hand.

"rest please querida. its four in the morning! i already called you in sick and i'll work from home today." you assured as she eventually gave in with a nod, slightly drowsy from the medication as you kissed her forehead which was still warm and her eyes slipped close.

now wide awake you wasted no time prepping your girlfriends favorite roast vegetable soup, tucking an airpod into your ear and swaying your head as you prepped everything.

by the time it was almost done you missed the sound of footsteps padding closer to you, a sneeze causing you to jump as you pulled your airpod out and whipped your head around.

"oh baby." you smiled at the face poking out from the blankets she had wrapped tightly around her. "tana go back to bed!" you chuckled as she shook her head, waddling in her blanket cocoon over to the couch.

"i will sleep here amor, i miss you." she huffed, wiggling around and you heard her kicking and tossing about to find a comfortable position. "i miss you too cari but you need to rest." you warned, sliding in the tray of vegetables to roast as you left the base of the soup simmering on low.

"i am resting." the footballer argued with a croak and a sniffle and you hid a laugh at the way she'd burrowed herself into a ball. "you don't look like you're resting." you hummed as she flicked on the tv, browsing for something to watch.

"i need...how do you say it? colourful noise?" she guessed with a frown as your smile grew. "white noise amor, and you need to rest so you can get better. not watch...love island?" you laughed at her choice of program.

"blame keira, she is always talking about it with lucy. now come rest with me!" the brunette ordered as sternly as she could manage with her fast fading voice. "i'm going to have to get up and down to finish the soup." you warned as she opened up her blanket fort and patted the space beside her expectantly.

"my favourite soup?" she asked hopefully as you motioned for her to sit up and slid your body behind hers. "of course." you promised as she again tossed and turned so she was laying on her side and wedged between your legs.

"gracias bebé." she smiled tiredly, wiggling her head out of the blankets as you laced your fingers through her hair, scratching gently at her scalp like you knew she'd want as her body immediately went limp.

"you're comfy." she yawned with a sniffle, hand patting your knee as you chuckled softly. "and you're sick, try to rest please mi amor." you warned as she nodded, eyes closing for a moment before they snapped back open as an argument ensued on the show in front of you.

"if we watch this you will not sleep, will you?" "no, i have to catch up to keira and she said this will help me learn more english phrases." "tana i'm english!"

[straylightdream]

what am I missing

act nine: “Do I have your permission to touch you anyway I would like?”

feat: bang chan x f.reader, seo changbin x f.reader, han jisung x f.reader

↳ in your mid to late twenties you’re left wondering if you missed your sexual awakening. With a the help of friends you start to really find yourself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole angst, a little fluff, body image issues, and self doubt, cussing all smut warnings listed below for what is in this story.

series masterlist

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐚𝐧: I’m dying to know what everyone thinks about Jisung and what they think will happen in the future.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nipple play, clit and vaginal fingering, lots of dry humping and some dirty talk. for the story as a whole, oral (fem & male receiving), piv, unprotected sex, groping, threesome, use or traffic light system, choking, and spanking, the mc calls herself a slut more warning to come. Soft but dominant jisung, kinda sub reader for jisung. Being tied up during sex.

Your body feels warm and fuzzy as you makeout with Jisung laying on the couch. This is so much better than the secret drunken kisses you’ve shared in the past.

When he pulls away from you and stands up you can’t help but pout.

“Oh princess don’t be sad I just need to move you to your bed,” he smiles holding his hand out. Without saying anything you take his hand. He picks up his backpack off the floor and leads you off to your bedroom.

Once in your room he drops your hand. “We’re gonna try something today. I’m going to be dominant with you. I’m not gonna be extra rough or mean or anything like that. But I want you to listen to me and do as I say. I ask for your full communication. If you ever feel uncomfortable you have to let me know.”

“Okay,” you respond. You’ve never experienced anything like this before.

“I want you to strip naked and then sit on the edge of the bed.”

You don’t think twice, you just follow his instructions. He strips down to his boxers and looks through his backpack before pulling out silk straps. You aren’t sure what he has planned but you’re excited.

“Have you ever been tied down during sex?”

You’ve never done anything remotely kinkly. Your ex never wanted to do anything like that. Silently you shake your head.

He sets forward putting his hand under your chin. His eyes narrow in on yours. “Baby you have to use your words and answer any questions I have.” His words send a shiver down your spine. The way he’s speaking to you turns you on.

“No,” you say quickly.

“Good job,” he smiles. “Now lay down and place your hands above your head.”

Everything feels like a blur as he slowly ties each of your hands to your bedpost with the silk ties. Your eyes are trained on him as he strips away his clothes. He stands at the foot of the bed already very hard. His body is absolutely mouth watering. His thin waist is reminding you that your curvy body is bigger than him. There is this feeling of embarrassment that washes over you. You don’t know why but you feel very aware of how exposed you are.

“What’s wrong?” His face softens as he stares at you. He sits on the edge of the bed and gently rubs your thigh.

“I feel very exposed and I’m not super comfortable with my own body.”

“Baby you’re beautiful. If I wasn’t attracted to you I wouldn’t have you tied to this bed.”

You can’t help but smile suddenly. Even behind this dominant facade you can see the shy boy who drunkenly loves cuddling with you.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I need you to be honest with me,” his hand is still gently rubbing your thigh.

“Yes I want to do this.”

He stands up and gives you a gentle smile. “Spread your legs. We’re gonna use the traffic light system. Green means good, yellow means let’s take a moment to see how you’re feeling and red means stop immediately.” He’s sitting back on his hunches between your legs. The whole time you’ve known Jisung you’ve never seen him act this dominant before. There’s something thrilling about the way he’s looking at you. It’s a switch that goes off with him where one moment he’s gentle Jisung and the next minute he’s the man in control.

You nod silently awestruck by him.

“Baby you have to use your words,” he gives you a wicked grin.

“Okay.”

“Do I have your permission to touch you anyway I would like?”

“Yes.”

He lays on his stomach and licks his lips as he stares at your exposed core. You’re probably wet from the amount of dry humping you did on the couch. He runs his finger through your slit causing a silent gasp to cross your lips.

“I can’t tell you how long I have wondered what you taste like. Or what it would feel like to have your lips around me.” You would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t wondered what it would be like to see each of the boys fall apart in your mouth. The moment his lips connect to your core you can’t help but moan. You tug on your wrist desperately wishing you could tangle your fingers in his hair. Your thighs move in slightly but before you could close your thighs his head pulls back and shakes his head at you.

“Baby you have to listen to me. Keep your legs spread wide for me,” he tone is firm.

“Okay,” you say, feeling embarrassed.

He dive back into your core this time not only using his tongue but his fingers. He is like a man drunk on your pussy. You fall apart on his tongue before he pumps his fingers into you. He starts pumping two fingers helping you ride out your high.

You try to pull away from him as the overstimulation starts to become too much.

“Color?” He asked.

“Green,” you quickly respond.

“Is it too much for baby?” He’s mocking you and it shouldn’t turn you on but it does.

“Yes,” you whine.

“Princess, what do you want?” He sits back on his hunches.

“I want you,” you tug on your wrist again.

“What do you want from me?” He’s going to make you say it. You know he won’t go easy on you.

“I want your cock,” you whine.

“All you had to do was ask,” he smiles. “Where are your condoms?”

“Top drawer.” You’re thankful you moved your pink vibrator that Changbin asked you to save for him. You don’t think you could tell Jisung no if he pulled it out.

He hops off the bed and quickly slides the rubber down his length. He’s back between your legs within a minute. He runs length between your folds collecting your release. He taps his tip against your sensitive clit earning a moan.

“Needy aren’t we?”

“I want you to fill me so bad,” you play along because you know what’s going to happen if you do.

He fills you in one quick thrust. His hands grip your hips tightly. He bottoms out and holds still, “color?” He’s similar in size as Chan and dick curves up slightly so he’s brushing the perfect part inside you.

“Green,” you moan.

“That’s my girl.”

He slams his hips into yours at a quick but firm pace. You can’t even stay quiet if you try. Thank god you live alone. The feeling of his quick pace while he’s stretching you out isn’t like anything you have ever experienced before. One of his hands stays locked on your hip while the other grope your breast. He pinches your nipple hard, earning a moan. “One day I’m going to spend hours just playing with your tits,” he groans. “God you feel fucking amazing,” he groans snapping his hips.

His hand snakes up resting on your throat without applying any pressure. Eyes lock on yours as a warmth takes over you. “Can I choke you princess?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He applies pressure and your head feels like it’s spinning. He’s ever so slightly cutting off your circulation.

“Fuck,” his moans are intoxicating.

Your high hits you like a hot wave. You see stars as you fall apart moaning his name. His hips never stop as you ride out your high. He moans your name as you can tell he’s approaching his own release. He pulls out of you quickly and pulls the rubber off tossing it in the bin next to your bed. He pumps his length until he shoots his milky ropes onto your thigh.

He sits back on his hunches as he breathing slowly starts to even out. He jumps off the bed and walks into the bathroom. He comes back with warm wash clothes and cleans up his release before he unties your hands. He gently massages each of your wrist before he presses a soft kiss to the inside of each of your wrist.

You haven’t said anything, you just watch him and observe him as he switches into his aftercare mode.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly.

“I feel great” you give him a soft smile.

“Was any of that too much?”

“Not at all.”

“Am I allowed to stay the night? I’m not sure if Bin or Chan did.”

He hadn’t brought up the other boys in a while and him mentioning them for some reason made you feel a little dirty. You try to push the feeling away. “They both stayed and I would really like you to.”

You get up to use the bathroom and brush your teeth. Once back in your room you lay down in bed not bothering to get dressed. Jisung is spooning you, not missing a chance to be close to you.

“Are you always like this?” You ask as he holds onto you tight. His body is pressed up behind yours.

“No I’m not. I can be gentle and give up control if you want,” he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“I like you in control. I just wonder what it’s like to be able to freely touch you during sex.”

“Next time I’ll let you touch me however you like.”

Regarding my tag list:

I have decided to pause my taglist for this story at least for now. It was getting extremely overwhelming tagging over 350. The taglist was taking over 30 minutes for me to tag everyone and it was quite discouraging barely getting interactions on my post for this story. I might open it up again. But now if you follow my taglist @straylightwrites you can turn on notifications there. I only reblog stories I post to over. There.

Thank you to anyone who has reblogged or left responses on this story.

[simkaswriting]

Hoodie- Human!Jake Sully

Word count: 950 A/N: this is just a little drabble I thought of while I definitely should have been focusing on my course work... Human Jake is kind of my weakness (ily Sam Worthington) And yes I am now shamelessly writing for Avatar too ;)

It was that pesky lab setting, the low temperature necessary to keep the teams samples stable and usable. To keep months of ground-breaking work and discoveries safe. And, to your chagrin, eliciting goosebumps upon entry to the lab every single morning, day by day. You of course understood the need for the cold environment, but that didn’t mean you were happy about it. And a certain ex-marine had picked up on it.

-

“Video log seven, time is… twenty-three forty-nine, and I’m, uh… I’m in the lab again.” Jake’s eyes flick to the analogue clock to his left with a sigh before settling back on his own reflection in the camera, a slightly dishevelled face staring back at him, a biproduct of spending so much time in his avatar.

“Location, shack.” He sighs again. He doesn’t have time for this. There are other things to do, places to be. And taping one of these stupid video logs per Grace’s request doesn’t even begin to scratch the list of things on his mind. He gets their purpose, sure, and he understands why Grace places so much urgency on doing them right after he ‘exits’ his avatar. So, if he has to do them, he’ll do them his way. And his way involves you.

Jake swivels in his seat, eyes landing on your hunched over form at the desk behind his, your hand furiously writing in your little notebook like usual. He watches you for a few moments. The way your hair frames the features he religiously studies when you’re deep in thought, risk free of being found out. Your near-death grip on the pen in your hand as you scribble whatever thoughts or findings race through your beautiful mind. Your eyes, nose, lips, features he desperately wants to run his fingers over, like a man starved of touch.

Jake has had his eye on you ever since Grace had her very first, but certainly not last, rant about how she did not need him. How she needed his brother. You were rolling your eyes behind Grace as she went on her tangent. And to his delight when he was in the canteen later that night, alone and picking at the strange amalgamation of dehydrated meats and vegetables he’s never seen before, you stopped by. Just for a second, just to say words that have played in his mind every night when he lays in his bed, some parts more than others. ‘Hi, we briefly met earlier but I’m (y/n), and unlike Grace, I’m actually happy to have someone who doesn’t have a stick up their ass in the lab with us. And you look like the type of fun I desperately need here.’

And that was it for Jake. He took your words as challenge, as a personal goal of his. Every morning he wheeled himself into the lab, he took it upon himself to act a fool to any extent, if it meant he got a smile from you. Some days he even settled for one of those scoffs of yours you gave when laughing was one of the last things on your mind. And over time, what seemed like months to him but was just weeks in reality, he grew fond of you. And by association, began to dislike the cold of the lab.

-

He tells himself to focus on the video vlog, the camera propped up against random shit he scrounged up on his desk still taping. But he doesn’t care, you take precedence.

“I can hear your teeth all the way from my station.” Jake chimes, eyes still on you as you continue to write. As Jake realises his words went right over your head, he smiles. He’s always admired your ability to lose yourself entirely in whatever you were doing.

He grips the edges of the hoodie he’s wearing, an old tattered grey thing he thinks has lived in his closet for longer than anything else he owns, before pulling it up his chest and over his head. He shakes it out a little to fix the left sleeve before he turns around and wheels himself over to your desk.

“Here.” Jake places the hoodie on your lap, the only available place as he eyes the paper towers stacked all across your desk. He squints at one of the papers near him but doesn’t read further than the title. He doesn’t understand the scientific jargon.

You flinch a little as the material lands in your lap and drop the pen. You look down at the clump of grey, Jake’s hoodie you realise, before turning your head to face him with a confused frown.

“What’s this for?”

Jake throws one of his grins your way that unbeknownst to him give you minor heart palpitations.

“Don’t want my favourite girl catching a cold.” He croons before turning himself back around and heading back to his own desk, heartrate slightly higher. Then again, it doesn’t come as a surprise to him.

He looks back into the camera, but this time not at his reflection. No, he watches as you play with the material of the hoodie for a few seconds before deciding that the ex-marine’s hoodie is probably your best option at staving off the cold. His eyes stay focused on you as you pull the hoodie over your head and down your torso, adjusting the hood of it. And for a second, he swears he sees you nuzzle your nose into the material through the camera’s reflection. His heart kicks up the pace, a small smile filled to the brim with pride not adorning his lips.

And as the low temperatures raise goosebumps on his own arms, he thinks it’s worth it to see you wearing his hoodie.  

[jadedrrose]

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬

After a long day of being one of the top warriors in the Yiga Clan, there's one thing within you that just can't be put to rest; and the only person who can help out is Sooga.

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, minors dni, is proof-read but probably poorly written anyway, also i am mildly embarrassed now. nobody talk to me about this.

Steam rose out of the warm water of the bath, fogging the entire room up. With your arms crossed against the edge of the tub, chin resting on them, you watched the swirling of the steam that clouded the space around you. 

The hot water soothed your aching skin, helping to relax you after a long day of training before going out on an unexpected mission. It had been quite the ordeal, really. A group of footsoliders had been on their regularly-scheduled mission in the desert when they were ambushed by a squad of Gerudo soldiers. And with most of the blademasters, as well as Sooga, being so busy, that left only you to go out to aid them. 

In the end, you’d come out of the battle victorious. None of the footsoldiers had been injured, although a few of them were a bit shaken-up. You, on the other hand, suffered minor injuries, but it was nothing you hadn’t dealt with before; and a nice bath always helped.

So that’s what landed you here, in the large bath connected to you and Sooga’s quarters. Sighing, you turned from resting on your chin to laying your head on its side, ear against your arms now. While you were now relaxed from the exhausting day, one thing within you could not be put to rest.

The need for Sooga’s touch.

Your husband had been so unbelievably busy, which of course, was to be expected with him being the right hand to Master Kohga, but lately it seemed more and more work was being thrown at him. The hideout’s traps needing reinforcing due to a recent monster ambush, blademasters that felt they needed to push themselves harder in training, lessons in disguising, all on top of his regular duties. While Sooga already didn’t sleep much, he’d now taken to simply sleeping in his work room’s chair, leaving you alone in bed most nights, when normally, he’d at least lay with you as you slumbered. It was eating at you.

Sighing again, you figured it would be a good idea to get out of the bath now, especially since it was already so late when you’d gotten in. Standing up, you retrieved your towel and wrapped yourself in it, stepping out of the tub as you did so. 

Perhaps you should go visit Sooga. You hadn’t really seen him all day, and if you were feeling lonely, he most certainly was too. Not to mention, the aching within you, desperate for his body against your own. Putting on a tank top and shorts, you hung the towel to let it dry and formed a hand sign, transporting yourself into his work room.

Just as you’d anticipated, Sooga was hunched over in his chair, a large assortment of papers and old leather-bound journals were scattered across his desk, as well as his mask laying abandoned to the side. The poor man was so focused on his work that it seemed he hadn’t even noticed your appearance. Silently, you walked over to him, and quietly spoke his name.

“Sooga,” you called, voice barely above a whisper.

He perked up, head turning to face you. He looked incredibly tired, though. Feeling a bit worried, you rushed towards him, taking his head within your hands to examine his face.

“If you don’t rest, you’re going to die of exhaustion, my love,” you frowned, leaning to kiss him. 

“I’m aware,” he replied, voice dry. 

Keeping your noses touching, you ran a thumb over his lips, suddenly remembering why you were here. “Come to bed with me,” you proposed, a hint of something other than concern in your tone.

“I’m not finished here,” Sooga’s uncovered hands found a place to rest on your back, one of them trailing a bit low. 

A shiver ran through your spine. Fuck, you needed him to touch you more. “But you need to rest. And…”

“And what?” He demanded.

“I need you,” it came out more whine-y than you’d hoped, but you didn’t care. There was an ache within your lower abdomen that needed to be tended to.

“I see,” Sooga smirked, his dark eyes gazing into yours. “Let me finish my work, and I’ll give you what you desire.”

Biting your lip, your heart began pounding as his hand slipped below your ass, his fingers now rubbing circles into your upper thigh. “I need you now,” you whined, leaning into him. “It’s been days since we even hugged, Sooga. Please.”

He hummed, his other hand moving up to cup your face. His thumb grazed across the edge of your lips, over to the center of them, daring to push against them to see if you’d open them. Obliging, you ran your tongue over the tip of his thumb, looking at him with the most desperate puppy-eyed look you could manage.

“You truly are desperate,” he chuckled. “I’ll indulge you, I suppose.”

Releasing his thumb, you were quick to give him yet another kiss, though this time there was much more heat behind it. “I'll do whatever you wish, Sooga.”

“Get on your knees,” he growled, a smirk forming on his lips when you did exactly as he’d asked. 

Hands reaching for the belts attached to his hips, Sooga chuckled at seeing how you rushed to remove them. It was always a difficult task to unhook them, but when you finally did, you threw them to the side and began to undo the shorts of his uniform.

He was unbelievably hard. Sooga already had… difficulty in hiding his manhood, but now it seemed as though he was about ready to tear through the uniform. Freeing him, you were practically drooling at the sight of his enormous length. You wasted no time in getting to work, taking him into your hands and pressing light kisses and licks to his tip. And although you wanted to swallow him whole now, you decided to stall and continue teasing him.

You had almost hoped for him to grab a hold of your head and shove your mouth onto his cock, but Sooga instead ignored your teasing, returning to his work. Frowning, you looked up at him, though you couldn’t tell what he was working on whatsoever. “What are you even doing?”

“I’m updating some records,” he muttered, “somebody didn’t upkeep with the clan’s archive, and now we’re years behind.”

“I’m sorry,” you hummed, before licking a long stripe up his length. And just as you’d hoped, the man above you let out a hiss.

Giggling, you returned to kissing his reddened tip, although this time you took to suckling on it as well. You could feel the way he tensed up, clearly growing tired of your games. But Sooga had never been able to snap at you before, he was too soft for that sort of thing. You still wondered, how long could you push him before he did break? You’d try testing that tonight.

Agonizingly slowly, your hand that held his length within it ran along it, ever so slightly jerking him. But it wouldn’t be enough to give him adequate pleasure. You kept kitten-licking his head, glancing up at him every few seconds to see if he would falter. He had a look on his face as though he were becoming frustrated, but he never looked away from his work. 

Without warning, you took the first couple of inches into your mouth, sucking on him for a short second before releasing him with a pop. The motion startled Sooga, and he groaned, one of his hands gripping the arm of the wooden chair. 

Returning to the small kisses, your hand that had been resting on his knee moved up to his thigh, tracing the muscles within it. If you weren’t down under the desk right now, then perhaps you’d be sitting atop his thigh, grinding your cunt against it. Another time.

Finally, your hand slithered between his legs, reaching to fondle his balls. Upon this, Sooga tensed up even more, and a groan escaped him, but still, he didn’t say a word. 

You kept your antics up for a while, silently hoping that any second now he’d snap. And when he did, it turned you on much more than you’d ever imagined.

“Get on with it!” He demanded, looking down at you now. “I can’t take another second of your incessant teasing!”

Giggling again, you opened your mouth, slowly enveloping the tip of his cock into it. Sooga groaned, taking the hand that had been gripping the chair and gathering your hair into it, gently pushing down on your head. So he still couldn’t get rough with you, even if you’d managed to make him verbally snap.

To Sooga’s relief, you finally lowered your head, stretching your jaw as far as you could in order to fit him in. Fuck, you’d forgotten how unearthly huge he was. Taking him inch by inch, tears welled up in your eyes as he filled your entire mouth, his cock poking into your throat now. You’d thought it to be impossible previously, but when your nose poked the base of his cock and you had finally swallowed every inch of him, you were pleasantly surprised to see his entire length fit into your mouth. You whined around him, sending vibrations through his length. 

Sooga moaned, the noise sending a hot yearning sensation within your cunt. He rarely made noises like that, and whenever he did, it was nearly enough to make you cum every time. 

Pulling yourself back up, his cock popped out of your mouth, drool spilling from your lips as you gasped for air. Coughing, you steeled yourself to go down again. But Sooga stopped you.

“I need to be inside of you,” he pleaded, looking down at you with the same desperate look you’d given him earlier. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, something that happened every time you two got intimate. He was horrible at hiding his embarrassment, after all.

He helped you get to your feet, and you hastily pulled your shorts and panties off, planting yourself in his lap. But Sooga grabbed your waist, lifting you up onto the desk as he stood up. Guiding his length to your dripping hole, Sooga teased your entrance for a short bit, probably to try and get back at you. But he was far too desperate to waste time on that, so with a loud cry from yourself, Sooga pushed his thick cock into your tight cunt. 

Your inner walls burned as he stretched you wide open, tears beginning to slip from your eyes. No matter how many times he fucked you, it was always a difficult task to adjust to Sooga’s hugeness spreading you apart. Wrapping your legs around his waist, your hands gripped at his wrists, nails digging into his skin. But the pain quickly subsided, and as soon as it did, you began lifting your hips, grinding against him. 

“You’re alright?” He whispered, something he always did before moving inside of you. Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his upper-body as Sooga lowered himself to hold you. 

With one hand holding your waist, Sooga began to thrust, the vague bulge within your lower tummy popping up ever so slightly every time he rocked forward into you. Grabbing onto the belts around his back, you began whining, biting your lip to try and suppress the noises. 

Despite the fact he’d barely been inside of you for two minutes, you were already feeling as though you were about to reach your high, your cunt beginning to clench down on his cock as Sooga slammed into you. Every sensation in your body heightened, and you let your mouth hang open, eyes screwed shut as the pleasure overcame you. The sweat between your bodies, Sooga’s grunts and heavy pants against your neck; where his face was currently buried, the way you could feel the muscles in his body flexing as he pound his length into you, it was all too much. And apparently it was for him, too.

With a loud groan, Sooga slammed into you once more and froze, spilling his large load into your cunt. Crying out his name, you hugged him as tightly as you physically could, cumming on his cock.

It took a few minutes for either one of you to regain your composure and catch your breath. You were first to let go, your arms falling limp at your sides. Sooga, on the other hand, took a bit longer, still holding your body as close to his as possible. He panted into your neck, audible sighs leaving him as he calmed down. 

Finally, the blademaster reluctantly pulled himself off of you, carefully sliding his softening length out from your walls. A mixture of your juices and his seed spilled from your hole, and Sooga was quick to tuck himself back into his shorts and scoop you into his arms. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he huffed, placing a firm kiss against your lips.

“I guess I took a bath for nothing, then,” you smiled, kissing him again. 

Holding you close, Sooga transported himself and you out of his training room, abandoning all of his work to tend to you. 

[lyrakanefanatic]

Max and Xander one shot: The Book Bouquet

I hunched over my chair in the dorm room, trying to study as quickly as I could for my test. I had repeated the sentence about 28 times in my head, but just couldn’t get it to stick. Part of the reason for that was because it was 1:34 AM. Suddenly, my phone gets a text from my mom.

“Max, are you studying? I hope you are so you pass that test you told me about.” It read. I groaned, because when was there a time where I wasn’t studying? I lay my head on the wooden desk, not even bothering to respond to the text, when I hear a gentle knock on my dorm door. I whip my head around, wondering who it could be at this time, when I hear a familiar voice.

“Max, are you up?” I could recognize Xander’s voice from outside the door. My heart beat quickened as I wondered why he was here, but not before I scrambled to find a sweater to cover up my embarrassing pj shirt. Fax, my room is messy. I thought, cursing myself and wishing I had just cleaned it up a bit beforehand.

“Uh, yeah! I’ll get the door in just a second!” I shouted, kicking away some clothes under the bed so my room wouldn’t look like a total mess. I took exactly two deep breaths before walking to the door. Ignore the fact you have the teensiest crush on him. I thought. It’ll make the conversation about why he came all the way over here at 1 in the morning so much easier. I opened the door, and saw Xander standing there, holding a….. bouquet filled with books? My eyes scanned over all the books, and I realized why they look familiar. They’re the ones I told him about. I thought, my eyes widening. Then my eyes flew up to Xander’s, and I could smell his cologne, and suddenly he looked almost shy, and any past fatigue I had felt before suddenly evaporated.

“Xander.” I say, shocked to see him standing in my doorway. Suddenly the teensy tiny crush I had on him turned into a ginormous crush. “Max.” He says in response, offering a kind smile to lighten the mood. We both realize that we don’t have much to say after that, and just kind of stare at our feet. After about 6 seconds of awkward silence, Xander clears his throat and gestures his hand out towards my dorm.

“So, this is your dorm?” He asks. I nod, still in shock that he’s standing in front of me since the only form of communication we’ve had for a while was a FaceTime call. “It’s… cozy.” He says. I snort, which snapped myself out of my thoughts. “I don’t think cozy is the right word to describe it. Small, dull, messy, and monotonous would perfectly fit its description, though.” I joke, grinning at him. He laughs, and then seemingly remembers what he’s holding.

“Oh, right. These are for you.” He said, handing me the bouquet. “I know those tests are stressful, so I wanted to get you something to take your mind off of it.” I state in awe at the beautiful bouquet in my hands, filled with every - well, most books on my Indigo wish list. If it were every book, he’d have to get a truck to tow them in. I look up at him in astonishment.

“Wow, you came all the way here to give me a book bouquet?” I ask him, smiling and laughing. But then a thought hits me. Why did he come all the way over here? “Xander.” I say, a more serious edge in my tone. “Why did you come all the way here? I mean, I’m not complaining, but my college isn’t exactly a 20 minute drive from Texas. Besides, it’s 1 AM, shouldn’t you be building an explosive robot right now?” I asked him, joking on the last part to lighten the mood a bit. He smiles, and then looks away almost…. shyly.

“I know it’s late to be visiting you, and I did have to fly a plane here, I will admit it, but I just-“ He cuts himself off suddenly. I tilt my head at him to go on, and the sudden eye contact, stronger than ever, made my heart beat quicken at 100 miles per hour. Xander was rambling now. “I didn’t want to say anything at the Hawthorne House because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and the weeks you stayed there were some of the funnest weeks I’ve ever had in my life. But I don’t want to leave things at that. I don’t want to just be your friend you hung out with for a bit and nothing more.” He says. My mouth formed a small o as I struggled to keep up with what he was saying.

“I was going to wait till morning to tell you this, and I told myself that that would be the best plan. Wait till morning, fly over, give you the bouquet and leave. But instead I borrowed one of Avery’s planes the second I thought up this plan and flew over here, because waiting till morning to tell you this seemed excruciatingly long.” He said, and then sharply inhaled as if mentally preparing himself for what he was about to say. “If you don’t agree with what I’m about to say, that’s totally fine, and we can always-“ I cut him off, impatient and exasperated. “Just say it Xander!” I shout, putting an end to his rambling. He snaps out of his thoughts and stares at me, a smile playing on his lips, before he spoke.

“I like you. A lot. Scratch that, I love you.” He finally says. My brain wouldn’t compute. He likes me? Was all I could think before he spoke again. “I don’t exactly know when it started, but I do know that I miss you, and if I waited till morning to come see you I probably would have died of impatience.” He jokes, and I blew out a laugh. “Impatience: The Deadliest Virus.” I say, in my movie monologue voice. He laughs, and then looks at me with a more serious expression on his face, one I’d never seen before.

“But in all seriousness Max, how do you feel? Well, how do you feel about me, or how do you feel about the situation? Or how do you feel about me creepily showing up at your apartment at 1:30 AM to confess things and bring books, or how do you-“

“I like you.” I say, interrupting his thoughts. “What?” “I like you, well, scratch that,” I repeat, mocking his words from before. “I love you. Probably not enough to show up on your doorstep with a book bouquet and a probably not scripted love confession in the middle of the night, but yes, I do love you.” I say jokingly, my cheeks turning red. Now’s his turn to stare at me in awe. I make a face at him and smile. “But don’t go thinking this is gonna change my ideal tropes. I am still a star-crossed enemies to lovers type of girl, but I guess the occasional friends to lovers wouldn’t be too horrible.” I say, teasingly. I notice how he steps the tiniest bit closer to me, and away from the doorway. Then another step closer. “Max.” He says, breaking the silence. “Xander.” Now my heart was doing backflips in my chest. He looks down at me, looking into my eyes and then my lips. There’s a question in his eyes, one which I knew exactly what he was asking, and do the barest nod. It was all I could manage at the moment, and then suddenly he’s leaning down and kissing me. Maybe, I think, leaning into the kiss. Friends to lovers isn’t that bad.

[wzrd-wheezes]

Firecracker - Fred Weasley x Reader

"May you please write a Fred x Reader fic where the reader gets badly hurt when testing a product, but Fred cares more than they do about it? Maybe they're underexaggerating the injuries that they got? I can provide further details if needed. Thanks in advance!"

A/N: Hello! I'm back and I have a lil Fred fic for you. Sorry if this one is so short. I'm trying to get back into writing!

Contains: swearing, rogue fireworks and Lee Jordan being a drama queen x

masterlist here

In the short while that she had been at Hogwarts, Professor Umbridge had unleashed complete and utter hell. No less than a week would go by without either Fred, George, Lee or Y/N ending up in a detention for breaking a new rule that she had created. They had had enough and decided that they were going to plan one of their biggest pranks yet. The four were huddled up in the boys’ dormitory, hunched over a pile of fireworks that were in various stages of completion. 

“Do you think it should be smoking like that?” Lee asked, cautiously prodding at one of the fireworks with his wand. 

“No,” Fred frowned, glancing down at the blueprints on the floor beside him. 

“That one’s meant to be red,” George pointed at one of the diagrams on the page, “or maybe purple?” He reached up to wipe the sweat off of his brow, smearing some soot across his face in the process. They were all covered in the stuff, their fingertips stained black with ash and their foreheads damp with sweat. Smoke was lingering in the air from the sheer amount of fireworks that had been going off all afternoon. 

“Merlin, we’ve been at this for hours,” Y/N sighed, flopping down on Fred’s bed. 

“Oi, don’t get ash all over my sheets!” Fred heckled, chucking one of the dud fireworks at her. Y/N caught it, rolling the round tube of the faulty firework over in her palm. It’s edges were singed slightly and as she turned it over in her palm burnt flakes crumbled off. She was looking down at it trying to suss out why the product wasn’t working properly, when all of a sudden- 

BANG! 

The firework exploded in her hand. 

“OW, FUCK!” she yelled, leaping up off of the bed and clutching her hand. The boys scrambled to their feet, immediately rushing over to her. 

“Shit!” said Fred. 

“Shit!” George followed.  

“Shit.” Lee said solemnly. Y/N looked at the boys and her, George and Lee burst out laughing.  

“You lot are bloody useless!” she exclaimed, shaking her hand trying to relieve the throbbing.  

“It’s not funny.” Fred said seriously, “I don’t know why I threw that at you. I’m so sorry.” 

“Fred Weasley! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so serious!” Y/N laughed, “I’m fine!” 

“No, you’re not. C’mon let me take you to the hospital wing.” he said, trying to grab hold of her arm. 

“I’m fine, Fred.” she insisted, “really.” She looked down at her hand where a small blister was starting to form on her palm. Fred was still standing next to her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. George and Lee were both stood in an awkward silence, shooting each other sideways glances and not quite knowing what to do. Y/N took a step towards the fireworks that were still laying on the floor, intending to carry on trying to fix them. Fred put his arm out to block her. 

“Y/N, if you take one more step towards those fireworks, I think Fred might explode.” George laughed. 

“Haha! Explode.” Lee chuckled, “I see what you did there.”  

“From now on you’re banned from helping us with any products that could potentially injure you.” Fred said. 

“So, basically everything then?” Y/N laughed, shaking her head at him 

“I would also like to be exempt from anything that could potentially injure me.” Lee said, raising his hand in the air, “I’m not going to be any good at Quidditch commentary if a firework goes off in my face, am I?” His remark earned a laugh from George and even a small chuckle from Fred. 

“It’s not going to make your Quidditch commentary any worse than it already is anyway!” Fred bantered. 

“Ouch!” Lee said, dramatically clutching his chest.  

“C’mon, you.” Fred said, grabbing Y/N’s arm, “let’s go get your hand looked at.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes jokingly at George and Lee as Fred dragged her off to the hospital wing. They hadn’t even made their way out of the common room when they heard a bang go off in the dormitory and a small cloud of smoke made its way down the dormitory stairs. 

“There goes Lee’s career in Quidditch commentary.” Fred chuckled. 

“We can’t leave those two alone for five minutes without them causing absolute chaos.” 

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: III, Part Four

hehehe i hate the shopping trip section and the bit after that it does not seem well written to me i am going to lose my everloving mind =D

all aforementioned warnings apply, just in case <3

word count: uh 13,519?

Masterlist

Ao3

Previous Part

Next Part

Vessel waits with bated breath all morning, hugging his stuffie tightly to his chest as he stares, unceasingly, at his bedroom door. II and III had already been moving about for a couple hours now, their quiet voices and sleepy laughter telling Vessel of a comfortable night spent in III's room and a cozy morning. Vessel wishes he had joined.

His room is dark, the only light coming from under the door. Vessel is alone, as he wanted, and he hates it. He buries his face in his stuffie, snuggling into his Alpha Wolf hoodie, and tries to ignore the stinging in his hips, and the tears threatening to slip onto his cheeks. He lays there for who knows how long, waiting for the floor to open up and swallow him and his bed whole.

Someone knocks on the door. Its II, asking for Vessel to come down to the living room. He says something about wanting to start that talk now, and maybe something else but Vessel can't hear past the sudden ringing in his ears.

This is it. They're going to be mad at him. They're going to be mad he put them to sleep without asking, they're going to hate him. They're going to hate him. Vessel doesn't want to do this, he didn't want them to know about any of this. Vessel wanted to keep all of this to himself so II and III could continue living happily, without any knowledge of what Vessel has done.

Vessel forces himself to stand up when he hears II's retreating footsteps after a couple minutes of Vessel not answering. When he opens his door, Vessel makes sure his hood is up and his mask securely buckled. III is making their way up the stairs when Vessel starts to head down, and their smile is as soft as the blonde curls on their head when they see him. "I made you a coffee! Its on the table downstairs, in the living room, if you're ready to talk now."

Vessel isn't ready, but he takes III's outstretched hand anyway, hunching into himself to hide as much as possible. Let's III lead him down the stairs, focuses on them rubbing their thumb over Vessel's knuckles, focuses on not launching himself off the staircase to his hopeful death and asking Sleep to let him truly die.

II is bouncing his leg, reading a book while sitting on their couch when Vessel and III enter the living room. His eyes do not read the words on the page, staring blankly and worrying his lip, lost in thought. When III calls his name, II looks up, almost surprised by their presences, though III is never exactly quiet when they enter a room.

"Three, Ves! Good, you're here. Sit, please, we're just going to talk. We got you some coffee Ves, hopefully its how you like it. Three wanted to put more sugar but I like to imagine I know your limits, and their idea of sweet enough is far, far past it."

Vessel sits on the edge of his seat and readies himself to bolt if he needs to. He makes sure to keep space between all three of them for when they inevitably don't want to be near him anymore.

Even as he does so, keeping distance, III scoots closer and II completely gets up, moving to sit next to Vessel on his other side, effectively sandwiching him between them while placing a large, fluffy blanket over his shoulders. It should make him nervous, to be caged in like that and unable to escape like he initially wanted, but their knees are warm where they brush against his own. The length of III's thigh is pressed against Vessel's and he tries to focus on that warmth to ground him to this moment when all Vessel wants is to be anywhere but here.

Vessel avoids their searching gazes but smiles gratefully at II, wrapping the blanket around himself as further protection, and everyone waits for another of them to speak. Silence ensues for what feels like hours until II breaks it, also wanting to get this over with if only to get that terrified slip of emotion Vessel is allowing through the bond to go away.

"Tell us about this ability Sleep mentioned, the one that isn't yours. I just want to understand, Vessel, okay? I'm not mad, I'm frustrated you seem to keep hurting yourself in more ways than one, but I'm not mad. I'm concerned."

Vessel opens his mouth, trying to just get on with it, but his voice won't come out again. No matter how hard he tries. No. No, no, no, not again. Please. He'd finally moved past this, he'd- They looked so pleased to hear him and he's already fucking up.

III leans into Vessel's side, reaching under the blanket and gripping a portion of Vessel's hoodie, unsure what to do. II is saying something to him, holding his hand, but Vessel can't hear him. He's still trying to force words out, mouth opening and closing with no noise coming out. Vessel wants to cry, to sob, to tell them everything and nothing. He wants to be held.

II takes Vessel's hand and puts it over his chest, in the middle where Vessel can feel his heartbeat and the deliberate rise and fall of his breathing in slow, deep breaths.

Vessel tries to copy it. He really does, but it's hard when his head is swimming and he's suffocating in his own distress, the anxiety eating at his nerves as he shakes and shakes. Why can't he stop shaking?

II and III talk in hushed voices over him as Vessel hunches over further, torso almost meeting his knees, clenching his eyes shut and trying to focus on breathing at the same pace II is. A broken sob forces its way past his lips, coming out as more of a low keen that he muffles into the material of his stuffie that has managed to stay in his lap. He hates that he's staining it with his tears. He ruins everything he touches.

It takes what feels like hours to get his breathing under control, but it must have only been minutes. He is still trembling when his ears stop ringing. He wants to hide, he wants to escape into the forest and not return for a few days. Maybe not return at all. He isn't ready for this.

"Can we hug you? Please, you look like you need one." III begs, looking to II for help, but he only shakes his head sadly, already knowing what Vessel's answer will be.

Yes. Yes, please. Vessel wants a hug so badly. Please. Please.

"No." Vessel whispers, voice cracking as he refuses. "But, lean into me. Just- Don't wrap your arms around me. Please." Vessel compromises, desperate.

III leans into Vessel immediately, the full length of his torso pressing into Vessel's side as III puts the other hand under the blanket to wrap both arms around Vessel's own arm in as much of a hug as Vessel will allow. II scoots impossibly closer, using both hands to hold one of Vessel's own, rubbing soothing circles into his palm, or a thumb over his knuckles.

Vessel can breathe again. Letting his hand go limp in II's hold, he leans into III's side heavily as he tries to calm down. Vessel steels his nerves and just lets the words spill out of his mouth before his throat is wrapped with thorns again, hiding his masked face in his hands.

"I can- Make you sleep. That's all it is. I couldn't stand to see you suffer like I... I didn't want you to be awake and in pain the entirety of your transformation, so I experimented with my abilities as a vessel of Sleep and well, it got easier after the first time. You kept waking up though, and you were in so much pain... I had to keep putting you under. When you woke up and weren't in pain, I knew your transformation was over. I just... repeated the process with III."

"Sleep said this power was dangerous for you...?" II knows he won't like the answer.

"It makes me sick. It- I change. Two new sets of eyes, the split tongue. My blood becoming more like Sleep's. It seems I gain more of their features the more I use the ability."

"You're not using that ability again." II demands, not leaving any room for argument.

"What? But-"

"Vessel, you're not making yourself sick for us. Do you think I enjoyed your suffering as you puked up that weird black shit, or how you couldn't even sleep any of that sickness off? Because I didn't. I didn't enjoy a single fucking second of it. I hated it. Hated that I couldn't help you, that I couldn't take your pain away." II states, eyes like blue fire.

"We understand where you're coming from. You wanted to help us, but you never should've done it at the cost of yourself." III cuts in, nervously glancing between Vessel and II, pressing more of their body into Vessel's.

"Neither of you deserved to hurt, I- I was trying to help..." Vessel says weakly.

"I know you were, Ves, but you're not doing that to yourself again. You don't understand that we don't want you hurting either. You don't need to kill yourself to make sure we don't feel any pain." Vessel flinches into III as though struck and II wonders, fleetingly, why he felt as though he'd come upon something he shouldn't have.

"Vessel... do you think you deserved it? Your pain?" III asks, voice low and carefully neutral to hide the concern, thinking back to Vessel saying that they didn't deserve to hurt.

It wouldn't be much of a stretch, would it? To think that Vessel believes himself to deserve the pain the transformation brought, when the man actively self-harms.

Vessel will not look at them, staring resolutely at the ground. He does not address them directly, merely speaking out into the room, knowing they will listen.

"I- I don't... know. I- It made sense. For me to hurt. It still does. It's all I know. I felt... useful, when I was able to help Two that first time. Like I was finally doing something right. By the time Three came around, I- Well, I already knew the consequences and welcomed them if it meant I could spare you both the pain. The eyes aren't so bad, and I'm already getting used to the tongue."

"You don't deserve it. You have never and will never deserve any of the pain you put yourself through, or that anyone else has put you through." II despairs, taking a deep, unsteady breath to try and abate the tears he wants to shed.

Vessel remains silent, knowing he doesn't agree. II and III are the only ones who have ever thought that.

"You're not using the ability again. I don't care what you say, you're hurting yourself every time. I- Fuck, Ves, I already hate your self-harming, I don't want to see you continue hurting yourself this way too." II says, shoulders hunching with the stress of the conversation.

"I don't use it unless I need to, and I haven't needed to since your transformations ended." Vessel agrees easily enough, voice as small as he feels.

He doesn't understand why they care so much. He's not sure he ever will.

"Why won't Sleep let any of us rest during our transformations? I- I don't understand why He would decline if you asked Him to let us sleep."

"I didn't ask." Vessel murmurs quietly. "The- the way He said I handled mine, I didn't think there would be a point. He wouldn't have agreed. He said I handled mine beautifully, but- It hurt. It was... Agony, for weeks and I could feel everything- Everything changing in my body, the- the bugs-" Vessel cuts himself off, throat closing in at the memory.

He pushes his hands into all of his eyes where the skin meets the softer flesh of his closed eyelids. He can still feel the flies crawling over his burning eyes- the roaches over his hands and the way they came close to crawling in his ears or his mouth-

Vessel wants to throw up, the taste of that black sludge foul on his tongue. He curls in on himself, struggling to breathe. Again.

II and III share another concerned glance, "Bugs?" II whispers, mortified.

"Manor wasn't clean. Full of bugs. Crawled all over me. Over my eyes, across my hands. Felt all of it." Taking a deep breath to try and quell the nausea, Vessel manages to answer in short sentences.

"You... Where did you lay, Ves?" III is terrified of the answer.

"Floor. Barely made it through the front door. Hurt the whole walk here. I- fell a lot too. Over roots and just, the ground. Couldn't see anything, it was too dark. Didn't know where I was going." Vessel grunts, trying to will away the tremble in his frame.

He has said far more than he ever wanted to, but they are asking, and Vessel cannot refuse them most things. Not when their bodies are warm against his, their heat sinking into his bones and chasing away the constant chill. The blanket they'd wrapped around his shoulders helps keep him warm, too, but Vessel wouldn't mind being able to touch them without the barrier of it and his clothes. It is not something he can grant himself.

One proper hug from II and Vessel craves another, and another, and another. He wants their gentle touch on his skin all the time, in any way they'll give it. He wants to feel wrapped up and safe in III's encompassing hold, he wants to wrap II in his own arms, to hold him to Vessel's chest and rest his chin on the fluffy mess of II's hair. He wants their touch. He wants. He aches. He desires. Anything they will give him.

If their gentle touch ever turns painful, Vessel knows he wouldn't mind. It would simply be time for the abnormalities of his relationships with them to end and return to the familiar.

"... the fucking floor? You... you didn't have time to, to even get into the house properly?" III can't stop himself from crying out, just utterly horrified.

"No, my transformation was already beginning to start when I woke up in the forest. I- There wasn't any time." Vessel explains, closing his eyes and pulling II's hand closer, beginning to play with his fingers.

"Why would Sleep do that? He gave me time to get settled in..." II says, eyes wide with confusion.

"I asked Him to give you that time. I couldn't go into the stores and get you what I knew you needed. I was too much of a coward. My anxiety wouldn't let me. I- It was weak of me, I know."

"No, no, Ves, it worked out better that way. I wouldn't have expected you to be able to do all of that on your own... Its alright."

II is trying his damn hardest not to let his fury get the better of him.

He wants to fist fight his God. For what they have done and what they've failed to do. If Sleep could put off II's transformation when Vessel asked it of Him, there was no reason for Vessel to have needlessly suffered.

"It hurt." Vessel forces out, eyes opening and listless behind his mask, "It was like every atom was lit on fire after being put through a shredder. It hurt. For weeks. I- I laid there for weeks. It hurt. I couldn't sleep. Couldn't escape. Couldn't die either. I wanted to."

III tries to stifle their sudden sob, but ultimately they fail.

"It hurt." Vessel repeats, "It hurt and I was alone."

"You're not alone now." II is quick to assure, "You made sure we weren't alone, its our turn to return the favor."

III is nodding, trying to speak past their hiccupping sobs, but they can't. Not when they're imagining what Vessel must have gone through. Those few moments III was awake during his transformation was an agony they knew could never be replicated, would never be able to properly describe. To think that Vessel was forced to be awake for weeks, to experience something like that without any reprieve... And still Vessel thinks he deserved it.

III wants to hold Vessel tightly and never let go, wants to tell him that they love him, that he didn't deserve any of what has happened to him. Wants to kiss away all his tears, to wrap him in his arms and never let him go.

How could Sleep have just- let Vessel go through that? III doesn't understand. They were all personally chosen by a God, and yet that God shows little care when it comes to the safety of His vessels outside of having money and a home. III knows II said that Sleep does not understand human pain, does not feel it, but does that make any of this okay?

III's not sure if it does, when he sees the furious tears in II's eyes as they both hold Vessel as close as he'll allow, shuddering breaths and small hiccups still escaping him as he stares blankly ahead.

::

Once Vessel calms enough, he disappears to his room for the rest of the day, asking for space and leaving his coffee untouched. Much of that time is spent listening to II and III move about the house and contemplating whether or not he wants to kill himself, adding random lines into his skin when the temptation to simply end it draws too close to the surface. By the time Vessel has made a decision, hours after starting and stopping his current book, attempting to write new lyrics, and pacing his room repeatedly, it is dark outside. His arms ache something fierce, bandages stark white against the darkness of his skin.

Dinner has long since passed, Vessel guiltily ignoring III's knock on his door, asking him if he was coming down to eat or just to hang out. Guilt ate away at him, and so Vessel cut into his arms again to relieve it. The pain helped, somewhat, but Vessel only felt more guilty than before, afterwards.

Vessel stills when another knock sounds, II this time, telling Vessel goodnight and that the two of them were going to be in II's room that night if Vessel wants to join.

II audibly sighs when Vessel doesn't answer, leaning his head against Vessel's door for a moment before walking away. III, staring silently from beside him, follows and intertwines their hands, eager expression crumbling.

Vessel's eyes well with tears, and he wants to join them so badly. He should've agreed yesterday, too, but Vessel was afraid. Shoving on his Alpha Wolf hoodie and grabbing his thickest blanket, Vessel practically runs to his door in his haste.

"Wait!" Vessel exclaims, opening his door and stepping out, holding his plushie close to his chest.

II and III stop at II's door immediately, turning around with such hopeful expressions that Vessel knows it must match his own hope exactly, even without the bond confirming it.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Vessel asks, back to being quiet as a mouse, and II and III share wide grins.

"Of course. You don't even need to ask if you want to sleep with us. II and I will always welcome you." III holds his arm out, making grabby fingers at Vessel who reaches back with only a little hesitation, crossing the distance between them in a few purposeful strides.

III pulls him into II's room, a beaming smile lighting up the dim room. II follows behind them, leaving the door cracked for Elvira in case she wants to come visit.

II goes around moving pillows while III bounds off to grab more blankets. Vessel sits gingerly at the edge of II's bed, trying to gather up his courage.

He is fiddling with the edge of a bandage as II and III finish up, beginning to get comfortable on the bed. "I-. Uh, shit. Shit." Vessel starts, stopping immediately as his anxiety strangles him.

He doesn't want to ruin their happy expressions. He knows what he says next is going to kill the peaceful atmosphere.

"Go on, Ves, its okay." III encourages, and II nods in agreement, eyes soft and questioning.

"I- cut again. Can-" Vessel clears his throat nervously, letting go of the fraying bandage and digging his nails into his wrist, the sting helps, "Can you hold me?"

II cannot keep the sadness from his eyes or his bond, but he smiles softly regardless, "Of course. How about you get comfortable with Three while I get the med kit. You know I prefer making sure you take care of your cuts."

Vessel is... relieved neither of them are angry with him.

Vessel nods, climbing further into bed and into III's awaiting, outstretched arms. III brings one hand up to run through Vessel's hair, carefully avoiding pulling any strands stuck under the mask strap, the other splaying against Vessel's waist where he has carefully draped himself over III's chest, half on his lap. Vessel's blanket and hoodie acts as a barrier between their chests, and Vessel begs Sleep to keep III unaware of Vessel's lack of heartbeat.

II smiles, single dimple on display as Vessel settles in close, subconsciously snuggling further into III's warmth. He's off to get the nearest med kit and returning in record time, taking only a second to watch III whisper soft nothings into Vessel's hair, nuzzling into the soft strands as he holds Vessel close.

Vessel opens his eyes from where they had fallen closed in his contentment, bond open enough for them to feel it. Anxiety creeps in as II asks where the wounds are. Leaving his hoodie on, Vessel maneuvers himself so he can comfortably stretch his arms out, shoving up both sleeves past his elbow. His left arm was clearly bandaged better than the right, the material loose and sliding down his arm.

"Proud of you for taking care of them." II says, leaning forward with his weight on one hand to kiss the forehead of Vessel's mask.

A tiny, unsure smile pulls at Vessel's lips, ducking his head shyly, but II does not fail to notice that Vessel doesn't refute his words.

III looks stricken as II begins unwrapping the bandages on Vessel's left arm. Vessel had at least cleaned the blood off of them, but his skill in wrapping them is lacking. II knows its because Vessel has never bothered to take care of himself Before, and fuck, does that break II's heart into pieces.

Vessel winces when II begins disinfecting the cuts, surprising II and III when he buries his masked face into the space between III's shoulder and neck. Its uncomfortable, the mask digging in to their jaw and collarbone and wherever else it touches, but III would rather cut off their own leg than ask Vessel to change positions.

Slathering antibiotic ointment over the wounds marring his forearm, a bit below the elbow, with smaller little slices heading down towards his wrist, II begins rewrapping the arm with a fresh strip of bandage. The next arm is easier, but the cuts are more sloppy, some digging deeper, and its clear by the wounds that Vessel was more distressed when he dug a blade into that arm.

That one is nearly finished being bandaged up when II chooses to speak, "Thank you for telling us, Ves."

Vessel opens his eyes, different sets watching the movement of II's hands and his face. He simply stares for a moment, while II continues working and III's hand continues playing with his hair, "Kept thinking you would leave me. Kept thinking you would hate me. Knew you would, after you found out what I did. But... You stayed. Both of you stayed. You- Don't hate me."

II and III share a glance that Vessel doesn't miss as II says, "I don't hate you, Vessel. What I feel for you is the furthest thing from hate."

"I don't hate you either. Could never hate you."

Vessel wets his lower lip nervously, a fang peeking through, "Okay... Thank you."

Vessel wants to say more, he wants to spill his guts all over the floor, let them rifle through his insides, examine every inch of his viscera and bones, and their marrow, until they understand him so completely that he never has to speak of his feelings ever again.

Vessel supposes that is what the bond is for. That gift from his God was intended to help him connect, and he has refused it to some extent the entire time he has had it.

II yawns behind a raised hand, Vessel tracking the movement carefully. "You both should rest." Vessel says, and neither one of them disagree.

III pulls away long enough to let all of them under the covers. Vessel has been maneuvered so III is in the middle, without much say in the matter. He lets them do as they please, keeping his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and bunched around his neck. II asks if Vessel will get too warm like that, under both the blanket and the sheets but Vessel merely shakes his head. Temperature hasn't affected him like it used to when his heart still beat in his chest. The others have said he is cold to the touch, but he doesn't feel it.

Everyone gets comfortable, Vessel allowing III to wrap their arms around him. III pulls Vessel close, then shoves themself back so they're up against II, since the bed is a bit small for three grown men.

Goodnights are shared without much preamble, and Vessel knows its because the earlier conversation did not exhaust only him. He's felt it in the back of their bonds all day, guilty for that too.

Vessel sits and listens for a while, as the others settle down to sleep. II falls asleep first and Vessel is endlessly amused by the others ability to fall asleep quickly, always appearing so tired despite Vessel being the one who doesn't sleep. III takes longer to nod off, needing to adjust positions a few times, or fluff up their pillow. Its cute, as Vessel finds III is prone to being.

Vessel realizes he didn't bring anything to occupy his mind during the long hours of the night.

"Are you leaving?" III asks sadly, voice distorted by a yawn.

Vessel pauses from where he was moving off the bed, "No. I'm getting my notebook from my room. I'll... be back."

III nods, brushing a hand over Vessel's bicep, turning over to snuggle into II's back. "Go, so you can come back sooner." They murmur, "Miss you already."

Vessel's face warms, a smile pulling involuntarily at his lips. III says he'll miss him, even though Vessel is only going to his room and back. The thought makes Vessel giddy, and for once there is no voice in the back of his mind telling him that III is lying, or delusional.

"Be back soon." Vessel says, knowing III probably didn't hear over II letting out a loud snore right then, the others bond already fuzzing back up with sleep.

Vessel huffs out a laugh, smile remaining. They're both adorable. He makes it to his room and back in record time, sliding back under the mass of blankets, pressing the length of his side against III's back, who hums at the contact but otherwise remains asleep.

It's perhaps an hour or two later, Vessel silently scribbling potential lyrics in his notebook with the dim light of the bedside lamp (though it isn't needed), when III first shows signs something is wrong, when Vessel feels that something is wrong.

There is a furrow in III's brow when Vessel places a careful claw over his temple to coax out the nightmare after he sets down his notebook and pencil. Without a thought, he swallows it whole, loving the taste and yet afraid of what he will see this time.

It truly is a nightmare.

He was sprawled out on the ground, jaw aching fiercely. There was a weight on their hand, harsh pressure being applied with a foot. Trees surrounded him but in his peripherals, light from a building blinked on and off haphazardly.

"Fucking shithead! Should've stayed the fuck away from me." Someone spits on him.

It splatters against their cheek, dribbling down and off his chin, and he only barely manages to stop from cringing in disgust, "I was only being nice-"

A foot slams right into his ribs, once, twice. A groan of pain is torn from their throat with the action, a whimper as something cracks.

"Shut the fuck up. God, running your mouth even now. No wonder you couldn't keep a fucking job." With every sentence, another kick brings new agony to his ribs.

He moans as another kick glances over their jaw, stars bursting behind their eyes when their hair is grabbed in a tight fist, a knee meeting their nose and spewing blood all over the blue jeans of his assailant. He grins anyway, all bloody teeth and confidence, "Momma never taught you how to take a compliment? I didn't have a mother and I can handle someone telling me I'm pretty with proper decorum. A thank you usually suffices."

The grin is wiped off their face as a fist slams against their cheek, cracking the bone beneath his eye with a blinding pain that stuns them. Pain explodes in multiple spots on their body as they struggle against the people holding him. They force him to the ground roughly, blow after blow after blow landing on his ribs, his stomach, his head. He aches everywhere, barely conscious, and still they hold him down. Still he struggles.

There's no fucking way they're going to kill them without a fight-

Vessel gasps, still feeling rough hands around his arms, holding him down, he can't breathe- there's a hand wrapped around his throat- no- no that's not what happened, that was-

Vessel's bond slams shut as he tumbles out of bed, legs caught in the blankets. The harsh movement of the bed wakes II and III, but by that time. Vessel sees the tears in III's eyes, a single one slipping down his cheek and he's filled with unadulterated rage at the sight.

He can still feel a hand around his throat. He knows that wasn't from III's nightmare, III's death.

"What happened, Ves, are you okay?" II asks, holding on to III in a tight back hug.

"Nothing, I'm fine. I just fell out of bed. Got caught up in the blankets." Vessel reassures through gritted teeth, trying to keep his anger and terror, his confusion and understanding, out of the bond.

He does it with ease, projecting that calm sea he can picture so clearly in his mind. Even if his bond is shut, Vessel would prefer taking no chances of them discovering his anger.

"Okay, that's okay. Do you need help getting-" II starts, III cutting him off.

"Don't shut us out entirely. Please. Keep the bond open. I- I want to feel that you're here." III asks, brokenly, desperation and fear leaking from every pore.

Vessel is struck with the sensation of arms holding him down again and feels terrible. III has just woken from a nightmare and they're focusing on him- Vessel hates it. Wants to wrap III up in his arms and never let them go so they'll be safe-

II follows III's words up, like a knife to the chest, "I know I said you can shut yourself away whenever you want but it's like- like you're dead even if we know you're right here."

The fury simmers down in an instant, being put on the back burner in favor of processing what they're telling him.

Like... he's dead? It feels like he's dead? Vessel doesn't understand. Do... do they know? Do they know what he does? Vessel is quickly becoming overwhelmed by the events that keep occurring. His brain can't keep up, tired as he is and always so stressed.

"I'm sorry." Vessel apologizes, not sure what else to say, opening up his bond again, his regret seeping into II and III's side of the bond.

"Have you felt it?" III asks, tears in his wide, shining eyes, "What its like for the bond to be completely shut off?"

Vessel shakes his head no, and the next moment there is a void swallowing him whole. Where III's presence had been shining brightly, full of apprehension and regret and resolve, there is nothing. It's as though the other man doesn't exist, like his body isn't right here with Vessel's. Its a gaping void, like Vessel was missing a limb, a wound ripped right through him that will never heal. He struggles to breath through the aching in his chest, in his lungs, and the house shudders violently, creaking and moaning as the vines writhe along the walls agitatedly.

There is this pain in his chest. His heart which he knows does not rest behind his ribs, he knows it doesn't, is being squeezed with a tight fist. He can't breathe- he can't- why does it hurt so bad-

Vessel gasps, leaning forward to pull III to him, uncaring for that one moment if he can feel his lack of heartbeat through his clothes. Tears spill down his cheeks, lips parted around a desperate apology. There is relief buried deep in his chest, where his heart used to lay. They don't know.

"I'll try not to do it again. I promise, I swear I'll try, just, come back. Come back."

Vessel doesn't even take a moment to really think about what he's promising. What it means for his already unstable mental health. He is promising not to rest, promising to stay alive in this body he hates with a mind that loathes him. He knows there will be times he cannot keep that promise, times where he will need to kill himself to escape from his own body for just a little while.

The image of the bond in his head distorts, becoming less like doors in a hallway, more a tether connecting their souls to one another. Sleep did not give this to them just for Vessel to hide himself away whenever he wants, he realizes. He should've realized ages ago, but Vessel is always struck by how different II and III are to anyone else he has ever known. If... If Vessel wasn't so stuck in his past, maybe he would've been open with them sooner.

"I'm sorry to do that to you so suddenly. I- I should've warned you." III murmurs into Vessel's ear, breath warm as the bond blinks back into focus.

Vessel could sob with the sudden relief that rushes through him. The house settles, no creaking to be heard. The vines calm, and Vessel misses the way II scrutinizes them closely.

II leans on III, wrapping his arms around both of them, hands fisted tightly in their clothing, desperate for their touch after both of them disappeared from him.

"All those times I shut you out, Two... you never said anything all this time." Vessel cries into III's shoulder, reaching out desperately to hold II as well.

"I thought it- I didn't know it felt like anything. I thought I was- I didn't- You were dead, Three, your- Even though you're right in front of me, it was like you had died. Like not even your soul was left. Why didn't you tell me, Two? I would never have even- I'm... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." Vessel can barely speak through the sobs tearing through him, harsh, wheezing breaths silenced to the best of his ability.

They're caught in his chest, suffocating him with their weight, but still, there is so little noise and it's unsettling. Vessel learned to cry like this, to sob with nary a sound, and its heartbreaking.

Vessel didn't understand what it meant to have his body and soul intertwined with another and then for them to disappear- it was worse than losing a limb. It was like some vital piece of himself that was there only a second before had just vanished, as if it never existed in the first place.

If II and III ever decided to leave Vessel, to tear the bond from their own souls with their God's help, it wouldn't have mattered if Vessel loved them or not, it wouldn't save him, his own soul would be shattered beyond repair and not even death would be a reprieve from the pain.

"Forgive me, please. Please, please, forgive me. I'm sorry. Don't leave. Don't leave." Vessel begs, clutching tightly to the material of III's shirt.

III holds him tighter, pulling Vessel closer even as they try to keep their own tears at bay.

"Ves, Ves, it's okay, just- try not to do it again and all is forgiven. Please, I'm not going anywhere, don't cry-" II regrets his wording immediately when Vessel struggles to pull away, all noise ceasing as though a switch had been flipped.

Vessel's breath hitches with another sob, but there is no noise to accompany it. Where before, there has been small little whimpers that he couldn't hold back, there is now literally no noise at all. Its unsettling, devastating. Tears still drip from under his mask, golden droplets staining everything they touch. His mouth is firmly shut, lips pinched tightly to hold in his whimpers.

"No, no, I- Fuck, I didn't mean it that way sweetheart, I swear. You- You don't have to be quiet around us." II begs, letting some of his own tears finally spill over.

"Two is right, Sugar. You never tell me to be quiet and I know for a fact I can get too loud." III adds, before asking, "Can I take your mask off? It can't be comfortable."

Vessel hesitates, slowly letting himself lean back into them to regain his earlier position. Vessel gives a small nod and III begins unbuckling the mask, wiping his own tears on his sleeve first.

When the mask is fully off and laid to the side, Vessel tries to get ahold of himself, wiping at his continuous tears with a sleeve that quickly becomes stained with gold. II and III speak to him gently, never asking him to be quiet or to stop crying, only ever using soft, comforting platitudes. They never grip his jaw to force it shut, to stop the noises Vessel has long since learned to quell. They never tell him to be quiet, to stop crying.

Gentle words and gentler hands coax Vessel from his tears into some semblance of calm as gold slips down his cheeks. II wipes them away as III braids small sections of Vessel's hair, gold accumulating on his hands and clothes.

Vessel whispers, in a voice hoarse with emotion, as III runs a hand through the mess to try and fix some of Vessel's unruly strands so they could continue braiding, "Not too loud. Like you as you are."

III smiles, a small thing that's brighter than any grin could ever be, kissing above Vessel's brow gently.

"Why were you crying, honey? I can still feel something off in our bond." II directs his next question at III, who is still wiping stray tears every now and then.

"Oh. Uh, bad dream. It's not anything to worry about." Vessel knows III is lying, can tell from the aversion of their gaze

Vessel thinks II can tell, too.

"Okay, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. I'm sure Ves wouldn't mind either."

Vessel is nodding in agreement, watching in some half-shocked, half-awed tidal wave of emotion as II pulls III's face to him gently, kissing his cheekbone, their brow, the tip of their nose. III's face is red but their smile is beaming when II pulls away, only leftover tears gleaming with hints of gold drying on their face.

II takes Vessel's face in one hand next, cupping the side of his head, avoiding Vessel's jaw as best as he can with his thumb by his ear and the rest of his fingers weaving through the mess of Vessel's hair. With that thumb, he carefully wipes some tears away, streaking gold across Vessel's cheekbone.

Without preamble, II leans forward to kiss Vessel's cheek. Then his forehead. The other side of his face, over the lid of his middle pair of eyes. With each careful press of II's lips on Vessel's skin, he grows warmer and warmer, body buzzing with electricity as his face flames, pointed ears going red at the tips.

"Two?" Vessel's voice is soft, eyes wide and not so sad anymore, tears slowing to a steady stop.

Vessel is always so stunned by such casual displays of affection. II and III are always so soft with each other, with Vessel himself. Vessel... never quite knows what to do with that fact. Because it is a fact. They are more gentle and kind than anyone Vessel has ever met. He thanks Sleep at the altar every chance he gets.

II accomplished what he set out to do, shaking his head with a quirk of his lips into a smile. II could get lost in the rubies of Vessel's irises, burning in the midst of the darkness of his sclera.

"You're so pretty. Both of you, so pretty."

III giggles, the sound a little unexpected and it causes Vessel to giggle too, something no one is sure they've heard from him before. Vessel's blush is contagious, spreading to II and III's cheeks like wildfire.

"You're pretty too, Doll." III says with a cheeky little grin that begs for II to challenge the nickname.

"Why Doll?" II pouts, squinting his eyes dangerously.

"Short." III states, before turning their grin towards Vessel. "Don't you agree, Sugar?"

Vessel's eyes are still wide, cheeks and ears still flushed but he nods anyways, adding quietly, "Big, pretty blue eyes, too."

II gasps and places a splayed hand over his heart, scandalized, keeping his tone exaggeratedly playful, "Why, I never. First, Sleep comments on my height, and then you two, the next day no less. I can't believe you both. I ought to take you off at your kneecaps, Three, and see what you say about my height then!"

Vessel tenses, looking between the two of them like he's not sure if they're actually going to fight or not. He would rather not be around if that is to happen. Vessel knows the yelling would make him catatonic with the memories.

"I'd like to see you try, Doll." III sticks his tongue out, laughing as II lets out a put-upon sigh.

There is a moment of silence where they all glance between each other. III's grin grows even bigger, and II's eyes narrow to slits before a smirk slips onto his face.

"Oh no." III mutters, beginning to lean back as though it will save them from what is to come.

Without another word, II launches himself at III, aiming for their sides to tickle them into submission. Laughter erupts immediately as Vessel stares with wide eyes, blinking disbelievingly at the proceedings.

He was- So sad, mere moments ago but with such ease he didn't even notice, II and III have lifted his spirits.

Vessel watches, a smile slowly pulling at his lips, as III makes their escape, managing to get away from II long enough to get off the bed. They're still laughing as they make it about halfway to the door before II launches himself off the bed after them, wrapping an arm around their waist and picking him up in one move, swinging III back around and up into a bridal carry.

"Thought you'd gotten away?" II asks, pretty blue eyes innocently staring at III, their noses close enough to touch if only they would lean in a millimeter closer.

II admits he is sorely tempted to kiss them, seeing that same temptation mirrored in III's eyes. They both refrain, glancing at Vessel, who is still watching them both, smiling gently. Now isn't the time.

"Nah, I got exactly what I wanted, Doll." III reaches up and pats II's cheek, a rogue finger tracing the curve of his smile.

"Now put me down. I'm insecure about being so close to the ground." III jokes and II laughs as he places III back on the bed.

Vessel could not force the smile off his face if his life depended on it as III suggests II start his book at the beginning, wanting him to read it aloud so Vessel will get the full story. Vessel starts to protest, not wanting to bother with something so trivial, but III is having none of it, already gently coaxing Vessel to lay on them as he leans back on a mound of pillows. II comes back from grabbing the book they were reading, a different genre than he usually reads that seemed interesting. Pulling the bookmark out as II gets comfortable on Vessel's other side, where he has let III maneuver him into laying down between them, II waits for both Vessel and III's go ahead to start reading.

Vessel's head is leant against III's shoulder, closely squished between them and II without even a hairs width between all three of them, a blanket spread out over their waists and legs.

Vessel is intrigued as II starts, tone calm but not emotionless as he reads the first page. The next chapter is read by III, who tries to give the characters their own voices and keep things lively while also keeping the tone of the book. The two keep switching off who reads with each chapter, and at some point during the night, II had fallen asleep during III's turn.

Vessel offers to read instead, and III lights up at the prospect, kissing the side of Vessel's head without a thought and settling in to listen with happy, but tired eyes. Vessel stumbles over the first few words, flustered beyond belief, but does not shy away from III's tender gaze. Its not long before III falls asleep too, but Vessel continues reading aloud quietly. He remains vigilant for more nightmares the entire night, warm between the two people he cares for most in the world.

Elvira pushes open the door around daybreak where it had been left cracked, meowing as she hops up on the bed to settle on Vessel's lap. Vessel pets her lovingly as she purrs, III's breath ghosting against his ear as II snores at Vessel's shoulder.

Vessel feels as though a weight has been lifted off his chest, closing his eyes to rest his mind. He lets his bond open, entirely, without holding anything back for what must be the first time.

::

Over breakfast the next morning, while II attempts to teach Vessel how to cook pancakes after III requested them, III speaks up about going into town. Kicking their feet so that they knock softly on the cupboard, III sits perched on the counter whisking eggs, which Vessel had wrinkled his nose up at, not liking the taste of eggs by themself.

"Hey, can we go into town today? I would really like more clothes, and that gaming console I mentioned to II."

"Gaming console?" Vessel asks, curious, as he carefully flips over a too-done pancake.

He smiles sheepishly when II praises him over it, while III begins to explain how they wanted to get more electronics since most of their entertainment is in book form.

Vessel nods along, asking what sorts of games III enjoys. "Story-driven games mainly! Though I do- did play first-person shooters sometimes."

Vessel hums, interested, as he and II listen to III explain about the different game genres they've tried and which ones they didn't care for.

"We can go into town after breakfast, if that's alright with you?" II questions and III nods along easily, not caring what time of day they go.

"Sure! Are you going Ves?"

Vessel freezes, watching a pancake cook far longer than it should, browning visibly at the bottom edges.

Vessel wants to go with them, just to be near, but he would need to go into stores, with other people, in public. At the mere thought, his anxiety creeps at the edges of his mind, threatening to swarm him.

"You did well in the furniture store that first day I arrived, despite your panic attack. You know I don't mind holding your hand and doing all the talking, Ves." II attempts to convince him, and Vessel admits that he has a point.

Vessel hates that they're coddling him. That he needs physical touch to go into a store. Its pathetic. He's pathetic.

Vessel wants to go with them. He really does. He doesn't want to be left in this huge house alone with only himself as company. It has never ended up well for his body, or his mind in the time Before. He was alone a lot, Before.

Vessel promised he'd try to keep the bond open. He knows what will happen if they leave him alone.

"Okay. I'll go." Vessel agrees, flipping the pancake over finally.

He frowns, staring forlornly at the crispy edges and dark, dark brown middle.

"You will?" III exclaims, excited at Vessel's agreement, handing the bowl of whisked eggs to II so he can start making scrambled eggs out of it and hopping off the countertop.

"Mhm." Vessel contemplates saying more, leaning into III a little bit as the other moves closer to Vessel's side, and decides it should be okay.

He trusts them. He is letting his bond stay open, giving them unfiltered access to his emotions. He trusts them.

"Didn't like being alone last time." Vessel focuses on the pancake in front of him and not the sudden regret spiking down II and III's bonds.

"Before you say anything, I am the one who decided to stay at the house. It's not your fault I felt that way." Vessel can feel their eyes on him and chooses to ignore it.

If Vessel turns around, he fears he may start crying again as the clear reassurance mirrored on II and III's faces trickles down the bond purposefully. He doesn't think he can handle seeing it on their faces.

Feeding Elvira takes priority before they all sit down to eat, not wanting to forget or cruelly have the cat watch, hungry, while they ate. When everyone sits around the table in the dining room that doubles as the living room, Vessel realizes that the pancakes taste a little burnt.

Dejectedly, he apologizes, the taste lingering on his tongue unpleasantly. III is quick to shut him down, scarfing down their pancakes with only butter as a topping, mask pulled up over their nose. "I thought you'd douse them in syrup." II comments, putting only a small amount on his short stack.

III hums in amusement, grabbing a few more pancakes off the plate placed in the center of the table, "You'd think, wouldn't you? I prefer them like this, but sometimes I do douse them in syrup. Absolutely drown them in it. Oh, Ves, maybe uh, a minute less on the skillet next time. These are good though, really! Just a little bit too done."

Vessel apologizes again with one corner of his mouth dipping too far into a frown for III's liking, and they wave him off with his fork and a large, reassuring grin, losing a skewered piece of pancake in the process. It barely misses the plate, falling to the floor as III lets out a whine of disappointment. Vessel laughs softly, no more than a shuddering of his shoulders and his frown lifting into a smile instead.

Breakfast is a quick affair after that, III eager to leave, devouring the rest of his plate in record time. II eats his pancakes and eggs within a normal amount of time, actually tasting the food instead of just inhaling it. Vessel only eats one full pancake, not needing it as sustenance like the others but still wanting to enjoy the taste, as burnt as they turned out. II picks up all of their empty plates before Vessel or III can do it, and Vessel and III share a look. III mouths "mother hen" behind II's back and Vessel huffs a laugh again.

Everyone pushes in their chairs, only one, the Fourth, collecting dust. They have all chosen their place at the table, and so it sits unused until the next vessel arrives. It has not escaped their notice that there are four main bedrooms, four main dining chairs. A decision on Sleep's part, most likely.

It doesn't take any longer than twenty minutes for the three of them to meet up in the foyer, all ready to leave. III's hair is pulled back in a bun so his mask will fit over it fairly well, in one of Vessel's shorter shirts that barely reach his hips, exposing a sliver of midriff that catches II and Vessel's gaze immediately, and a pair of Vessel's looser, billowing pants that he wears often around the house.

III reaches up to tuck a stray, loose wave behind their ear, and neither II nor Vessel can look away as the shirt rides up and exposes more of the pale expanse of III's skin. Vessel blushes to his ears again, II's own blush spreading down his neck as he takes in III as well.

III has no right being so damn pretty.

Vessel isn't feeling much better when he finally sees what II is wearing, which is nothing out of the ordinary, but its II, so Vessel always thinks he's breathtaking anyway. A hood is pulled up over the mess of his hair, the jacket long like a coat, sitting over a plain black t-shirt that hugs the muscle of his arms. A pair of comfortable joggers are tied loosely at his hips, powerful thighs and calves not causing the stretchy material any strain.

"If you continue staring, we're never gonna leave." II states, his dimple showing as one side of his mouth lifts to display it with an amused smile, an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry." Vessel murmurs, wanting to tell them both how pretty they are, but he's far too flustered to be able to get the words out without stumbling over them, and he's already so anxious as it is.

"I don't mind sweetheart, but Three needs more clothes that fit them properly. You can stare at me all you want on the ride to town." II grins, though his bond is a little unsure, holding his hand out for Vessel to take.

II hopes he's not being too bold, but seeing III be so daring with his touches and words, and Vessel not shying away from them like they'd both expected him to, makes II want to do the same.

Vessel takes his hand but doesn't meet his eyes with any of his six, fingers linking gently with II's own. "I'm just teasing, Ves." II admits as he watches Vessel's face get more and more red by the second.

Hesitant relief slips down the bond, and Vessel smiles, nodding as he rubs a thumb over a groove in his mask, held securely in his available hand along with the car keys.

III takes in what Vessel is wearing, a too big, grey t-shirt that hangs low on his neck, revealing their God's symbol on the hollow of his neck, over a black long sleeve with loose sleeves that leave room for his bandages. A pair of skinny jeans hugs his hips, held up with a brown belt that doesn't match the color scheme of the rest of the outfit. He's wearing black boots, which III immediately finds strange. They're not sure they've ever seen Vessel in anything but socks or barefoot. Even outside the house, Vessel seemed to prefer going barefoot despite the twigs and plant matter that litters the ground.

"We ready?" III asks, after ogling Vessel a little longer.

III confirms easily as Vessel hums his agreement and everyone steps outside.

Vessel closes the front door securely behind them, willing the vines lingering on the outside of the manor that climb along the wall to cover the door, wrapping over the handle and crisscrossing over the expanse of the door. Like this, with the vines overwhelming the wooden lattices on either side of the small porch, bolted to the detailed columns, the house looks abandoned, like the forest has overtaken something humans have staked claim to that had never belonged to them in the first place.

The car is parked nearby under the shade of one of the larger trees whose branches creep towards the house, and II asks who will be driving and who's going to sit in the passenger seat.

"I'll sit in the back." Vessel pauses before a small smile creeps onto his face, "I can stare at Two that way."

Vessel is pleased when his horrible attempt at a joke causes II and III to laugh as everyone puts their masks on.

The car starts up loudly, and with some difficulty when everyone gets settled inside. Vessel doesn't like being in the back by himself, even if he was the one who chose it, but II makes up for it when he puts one of Vessel's My Chemical Romance CD's on over the radio, knowing that Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge was Vessel's favorite.

Vessel flexes his fingers as they drive, answering when II and III ask him for opinions on topics he was only half listening to as II drove. Curl, uncurl, curl, uncurl. Vessel watches his claws dig thinly into his skin, misses when II would hold his hand while they drove to town. It kept him from fidgeting too badly, kept him from picking at the skin around his fingernails, pulling until the skin came free and blood beaded at the top. Vessel loved the sting.

Vessel avoids II's concerned gaze in the rear view mirror, singing along very quietly to the music and pretending his anxiety isn't eating away at his nerves. III turns around in his seat as best as they can with the seat belt limiting their movements, a hand coming to rest on Vessel's knee while III continues talking. III is pleased when it soothes a bit of the anxiety they can feel in the bond, the rest of the drive feeling less tense with one of them not so stressed. Vessel slowly inches the fingers of one hand onto III's before wrapping them around loosely, in case III wants to pull away. III casts a smile through their mask Vessel's way, curling their fingers around Vessel's hand in return. Vessel cannot stop his smile the rest of the drive, a small thing that remains as he continues to sing along quietly to the radio.

II parks in a lot with a multitude of stores at the behest of III when they point out a few thrift stores in the area. They know the area far better than II and Vessel, having lived here Before, so following their directions is easy.

As II and III get out of the car, Vessel still sits perfectly still in the back, except the trembling of his hands as his claws pick at the skin around his nails.

II leans back in from where he's gotten out the drivers side door and not closed it yet, "Are you sure you're okay with this sweetheart?"

Vessel nods, even though he is anything but okay. He wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole to escape the stares and the whispers he knows he will hear.

"I don't mind just picking you out some things if you tell me your size, Sugar." III says from beside II, wanting to lean in and look at Vessel properly but knowing there isn't room to do so.

"No, I'm okay. I promise. Just..." Vessel takes a deep breath, "Hold my hands?"

II and III smile, II's a soft lift of one side of his mouth that just barely allows his dimple to appear, and III a big grin. "Of course, I would love to hold your hand." III exclaims while II follows it up with an agreement, stating that he already does that anyway.

Vessel gets out, and his hands are taken in warm ones immediately. It helps, immensely, for them to be so near. To be so willing to touch him.

"What style do you prefer, Sugar?" III asks, attempting to distract Vessel, dragging both II and Vessel with them as they head to the first thrift store III sees.

Vessel stares resolutely at the cracked concrete sidewalk, anxiety making his hands shake as he feels the eyes of the townspeople on the three of them.

"Ah, modern Victorian emo, I suppose? I'm not sure what to call it. I love the Victorian style shirts with the puffy sleeves and more flowy material, but I always leaned towards black skinny jeans and chains, with boots." Vessel stumbles over his words, trying to think back on when he actually dressed out of enjoyment and not just in whatever fit and was mostly clean when he got more depressed.

"I must say I'm not surprised at all." III laughs, squeezing II's hand gently next.

"And you, Doll?"

"Comfy, in monotone colors. Ah, techwear sometimes but I didn't have a lot of free time outside of my job so I mostly stayed at home to drum and read, or game on occasion. Those clothes didn't get much use Before."

"I am also not surprised at that. You seem like a techwear kinda guy." III hums, pulling them along into the two-story building.

It's brightly lit with violet and white paisley patterned walls, small clear-crystal chandeliers and modern light fixtures hanging down a bit too close to head level, with rows upon rows of clothing racks tightly packed into the small shop, organized by color. Racks of shoes and purses line the walls, and towards the back is a couple changing rooms. Crossed off with a chain to the right of the changing rooms, a white-painted staircase leads up to the second floor.

"The old woman who lives here is legally blind, but can still see somewhat. She won't mind our masks. I used to come here all the time Before, she was always kinder than the other townspeople." III says, pulling Vessel along with them as II wanders off, only after making sure Vessel is alright.

Vessel lingers close as III leads them to the black clothing section, letting them pick out clothes at their whim. III has a mound of clothes piled in their arms before long, and Vessel offers to carry them.

"Oh, you don't have to do that Sugar." III refutes, gaze as soft as their smile.

"It's okay, I want to." Vessel assures, and smiles when III begins to hand the clothes over.

"I'll be taking these." II grabs the clothes before Vessel can, breezing by them with a smirk and an offhanded comment, "I'm the one with the super strength, and your arms are injured Ves."

Vessel pouts, watching II speed off as III laughs quietly. "He's right. I'm glad he interfered, your wounds slipped my mind."

"I'm not incapable. Besides, I did it to myself." Vessel frowns, flinching only slightly when III places their hand on his masked cheek a little too quickly.

"I would rather chop off my own limbs than purposefully cause you pain." III states seriously, without room for argument. "Two agrees, without a doubt. Let us be kind to you when you are unable to be kind to yourself. We care for you, Vessel."

Vessel doesn't say anything, but he smiles, taking III's hand and bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss to their bandaged knuckles, a whispered 'thank you' like a cold breeze on their skin. There is disbelief in the bond, uncertainty that III means what they say. Vessel wants to believe them, he really does. They've done nothing but exceed his expectations. They're kinder to him than anyone he has ever known.

Vessel loves them, both of them. He desperately wants to believe they love him too, but he doesn't know what love looks like, directed at himself. Everyone who has ever claimed to love him has destroyed him, body and mind. He doesn't know what gentle love looks like, would never be able to recognize it on his own.

Sleep knows this. For all that human emotion and its wide range has confounded him, it has also fascinated him. Sleep has watched humans fall in and out of love for millennia.

Sleep knows that His Vessel was never truly loved Before the God went to him. Sleep watched, listened. You do not belittle and antagonize until they snap under the weight of such cruelty. You do not hit those you love hard enough to mar their flesh with purple-blue.

Sleep knows that his vessels all love each other, His First simply cannot see it.

Perhaps it is time Sleep took action again, for the sake of His beloved First.

Vessel tilts his head at the feeling of Sleep's presence lingering near for but a moment before disappearing to the edges of his mind, where He usually stays. III's hand is still held in Vessel's own and when Vessel glances up through the thin mesh covering the eye holes of his mask, he finds III watching him keenly. A soft look and an emotion Vessel can't name thrums ever so gently through the bond, and Vessel forces himself to look away lest that tender gaze lights his soul ablaze.

Another customer walks up, browsing the items with no apparent concept for personal space. The woman leans in close to Vessel, eyeing his mask with an interested gaze.

Vessel clutches III's hand as he presses up against them to escape the woman, flush against III's side in his effort to escape the touch of a stranger. She watches him in interest for a moment, smiling a little to herself and batting her eyelashes. III continues shopping, humming quietly, pressing a little of their weight into Vessel. It's comforting, and appreciated. They reach for a long black pleated skirt at the same time as the other customer, and a stare down ensues.

There is a challenge in III's eyes, the mask covering their features to hide the mischievous smile, the sly humor that is so clear in the bond. There is a dare in the deep ocean of his eyes, as if to say "go ahead, grab it. I dare you. I'll take it personally." Vessel doesn't quite understand how that worked so easily, as the intimidated customer quickly retreats to the other end of the store.

III's eyes still hold some remnant of challenge when they turn to smile down at Vessel, letting go of Vessel's hand to swing one lanky arm around Vessel to pull him closer.

Ah, perhaps Vessel is just weak at the sight of III's ocean eyes surrounded by such long lashes.

"Let's go find Two. I found some stuff for all of us to try on, but I'd like his opinion as well, aside from him running off with the clothes." III says, keeping his arm around Vessel's shoulder, keeping Vessel close.

Vessel doesn't pull away, doesn't even think to force himself out of III's personal space. He's too busy swimming in the contentment such simple affection brings.

The arm feels possessive. Vessel tries not think about how much the idea appeals to him. Vessel wants to be coveted by III, by II. While Vessel wants them to want him enough to be possessive over him, the thought... unsettles him. The distress sits where his heart uses to lay. Deep in his chest, encircling very rib like ivy that cannot be torn away, aching like the memories of people he can't remember.

"What're you thinking about, Sugar?"

"Before." Vessel answers simply, still a little lost in thought.

III hums, pulling Vessel impossibly closer as they near II, then speaks after a moment, "If you ever want to talk about what you remember, I'm all ears. I'd be glad to share the burden of your past if it eases the weight on your shoulders."

Vessel takes time to think of what to respond with. He is always so astonished by the things they say, and sometimes, the only thing he can manage is small, unsure, "Thank you."

II has piled all of their items in an overflowing basket that swamps his form as he holds it. It's a wonder he can see past it, and Vessel frowns, hoping it isn't too heavy, even knowing that II has extraordinary strength. "We ready to try all of this on?" II asks.

III confirms and they all head over to the small changing room section. There are only two, one unoccupied and the other out of order, marked off with a sign that says the same. III has the most clothes, so Vessel and II send them in first.

They sit next to each other on a too small bench, fingers clasped together on top of their thighs pressed close. It doesn't take long for III to come out of the changing room, and Vessel barely manages to stop his mouth from dropping open at the sight of him.

III is in a pair of baggy black cargo pants pulled low and tight at the waist with a white and black checkered belt. A tight black high necked crop hugs their chest, exposing their stomach and the shiny,  black gem of a silver belly ring.

A fierce blush flames on Vessel's face all the way up to his ears and he is eternally grateful for his mask. Not so grateful for the bond that he kept open, broadcasting his flustered state and the hint of arousal.

III is gorgeous.

II nudges Vessel's shoulder with his own, laughing at the embarrassed smile pulling at Vessel's cheeks.

"I-is this okay?" III asks, suddenly nervous.

"You look beautiful!" II compliments, gently nudging Vessel in the ribs with an elbow.

"You should wear crop tops more often." Vessel blurts before covering his face with his hands.

II laughs, and after a moment, III follows, their nerves slipping away to be replaced by mirth. Vessel knows the laughter is not out of cruelty. Embarrassment swells within him, and Vessel feels as though he will burst with it.

"Here's hoping the few others I picked out fit, then." III smiles, before heading back into the changing room.

They come out in more revealing tops, some tight, others flowing and loose. There are a few long sleeved shirts and t-shirts in the mix, as well as plain jeans, shorts, and cargo pants. At one point, III comes out in a few skirts, both long and short. One particular skirt, pleated and a pretty pale blue that exposes his lower thigh, catches Vessel's attention. Vessel only looks away when they twirl a little, and his face goes up in flames once more, ducking his head a bit and averting his gaze elsewhere.

By the time its II's turn, III has gotten nearly everything they tried on and hums happily, tapping their fingers along Vessel's knuckles, hands held close while they wait for II to come out.

They don't have to wait long before II exits the changing room in a pair of cargo pants much like III has gotten, held up by a simple black belt, and a plain black t-shirt. "There really wasn't much to my interest or size in this store, which is fine. It happens." II says, unbothered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of the pants.

"We can check out some others, this town is full of 'em." III offers, apologetically.

"No, its fine. I'm content with what I've got at home, and hopefully some of this will fit." II assures, and III nods, smiling.

II goes back in the changing room, coming out a few times with outfits that are mostly the same style. Comfortable  and monotone, just as he'd said.

Vessel thinks he looks pretty in every single one of them. II would look pretty in a potato sack, Vessel is sure.

Too soon, it's Vessel's turn. III had managed to find an older style shirt, and Vessel is careful about putting it on.

When he exist the changing room, II and III share a look with matching grins.

"That style definitely suits you." II comments as III hops up, speeding over to Vessel, walking a slow, appraising circle around him.

"How did you manage to find this?" Vessel asks rhetorically, in quiet awe of III's find.

The black shirt is loose, with long sleeves that balloon further toward his wrist, where its then cuffed tightly, held closed by a button. There's a small V cut into the chest, held loosely closed by a black silk ribbon. Vessel hasn't owned a shirt like this in some time. He always loved the dramatic flair shirts like these brought to his outfits.

It fits perfectly.

Vessel is truly a beautiful sight, III thinks.

His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, loose strands framing his mask, leaving his pointed ears on display. III was surprised no one asked about them, but they suppose they could explain them away as a body modification if anyone was bold enough to question them publicly. It wouldn't be too odd considering the rest of their attire. III can just barely see the middle pair of Vessel's eyes peeking out from the middle eye holes of his mask, only the red of his iris' visible.

Vessel looks up, finally, and meets III's eyes, smile soft, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sugar. I'll keep an eye out for things like that from now on. The style really does suit you."

III had managed to find a couple of other shirts like the one Vessel had initially tried on. Their condition wasn't great, holes and tears in the sleeves, but Vessel didn't mind. He could just wear them with some of his ripped jeans to match.

When everyone is done shopping at that particular store, Vessel hands the credit card over to II, who leaves him with III to go pay, carrying all of the clothing with ease despite III and Vessel's protests. Holding hands with II and III has become so easy, like second nature. Vessel does not think that it is an act, at least, when they wordlessly ask to hold his hand. Over time, he has grown to cherish it. One action of clear care that he can admit to himself is genuine.

II comes back quickly enough, bags in hand, and they head out, intending to put their bags in the car before going to the only store in town that sells the sort of electronics III wants to buy.

"I don't know what fashion icon finally decided to aim for mental stability and get therapy in this tiny, shit town but I am forever thankful. I found some really good stuff!" III exclaims happily, as they pile the bags of clothes in the trunk of the car.

The game store is a quick affair, and III walks out of the shop with a big grin and a brand new PlayStation console with a few games to try. The large store that doubles as groceries and appliances i next, and they tie down a large tv to the top of the car a bit too precariously. Their next stop is a store that sells phones. III mentions there's one nearby, just a couple blocks down in another outdoor shopping center.

As they are putting the large box in the trunk alongside their clothes from the thrift store, III glances up. His gaze catches on some passerby further into the parking lot.

A man is wearing a deep crimson shirt. It would be pretty if not for the specific color, stark against the streetlight, and III can't tear his eyes away.

The sight makes III nauseous.

He doesn't know why the color is unsettling him so thoroughly all of a sudden, when they know they've seen similar shades all day. Perhaps its the exhaustion of long shopping trips settling into his bones and making him susceptible to the traumas deep in his mind.

"III?" Vessel asks, quiet and unsure, hesitant, no doubt feeling their distress.

Vessel wished he never said anything at all. The look III gives him when the other pulls their gaze to meet Vessel's eyes, it's- Vessel will never forget the look in III's eyes. They're so... haunted.

III can't look at Vessel. All he sees is blood, so much blood. In their minds eye, a flash of Vessel, bleeding from the healed scars on his body overlaps with reality. Blood is soaking through his clothes, slowly spreading from his arms, his thighs, his hips. It dribbles from his mouth, and III shakes their head, hoping to rid the image from his mind.

"I'll be right back." They manage, just barely, struggling to keep the contents of their stomach inside.

III would hate to puke up breakfast after Vessel put so much effort into it. It'll take forever to get the taste of vomit and pancakes out of his mouth every time he even thinks about eating more.

"Oh, we can go with you." II starts, still half in the car from where he was about to get in.

"No! No, its fine. I'll be right back, promise, I just need to use the restroom." III lies hastily, the taste of it like ash on their tongue.

Vessel and II watch them go, their worry in the bond palpable. III hates to be the cause of such concern.

There's a gas station nearby, across the road. The clerk at the front hands him a key when they ask about a restroom, directing him outside and around to the back of the building. The sun has set by now, only dim lights leading the way. It would be creepy if III didn't have night vision, able to see clearly without any issues.

By the time he actually gets into the restroom and locks the door, most of the nausea has passed. III takes a moment to calm down further, wanting to get back to the others but still shaken up. Their hands tremble under the faucet as they wash them with cheap soap that smells far too chemically for III's liking.

Fuck. III hates the trepidation they caused in Vessel's bond because they couldn't keep control over their reaction to a fucking color. III used to love red, why did that have to chance because he saw some blood?

He knows its not just because it was blood.

It was the look on Vessel's face. The apathy in the bond. The ease with which he had cut into his arm, the sight of the blood beading up and spilling over.

III covers his mouth quickly to stifle the sudden gag, the nausea back tenfold. Fuck. Fuck.

A few tears slip from his eyes, sliding into his mask to leave glittering golden specks on the soft material. They are hyper aware of the bandage wrapped around their hand, pulling their hand back to stare at the white cloth. His palm and fingers ache where the blade sliced deep in his haste to get it away from Vessel. They don't regret it.

They wait in the restroom until the tremble in their hands is barely noticeable, until the nausea has receded and not returned for a good bit. Ten minutes must have passed by that point. He's been away from Vessel and II for too long, as II tugs ever so slightly on the bond in question. III replicates the action, feeling II's worry and wanting to assuage some of it.

Tucking some stray strands of hair behind their ear, III lets II's response of agreement wash over him. He still isn't sure how they all can get certain feelings or ideas down the bond, but III is thankful for it anyway. Taking a deep breath, III steps out of the restroom, its key in hand, gaze a little distant, lost in his own mind.

Then, there is a hand over his mouth, an arm around his throat, placing tight pressure as III gasps out precious air in surprise. They kick out uselessly, alarm bells ringing in his mind as a large form drags him into the forest beside the gas station. II and Vessel's bonds are immediately a mess of confusing emotions, swamping him with their own fear and his.

Fuck.

[tarisilmarwen]

RobStar Week 2023, Day 7 - Safe

(Aaaaand done.)

---

Even though their rooms were next to each other and she was not a particularly heavy sleeper, waking to Raven knocking on her door in the middle of the night and directing her towards Robin's room was not an uncommon occurrence.

This time Raven was barely awake enough to mumble, "Nighmare." at her, blinking blearily and already swiveling around to go back to her own room and bed, knowing that Starfire would take care of the Boy Wonder's distress, so that both she and he could sleep.

Starfire sighed, closing her door and heading the opposite direction from the empath. She did not begrudge Raven her mind bond with Robin but at times she thought it would be more convenient not to have to go through a third party in order to comfort her own boyfriend.

Perhaps when they were older, she could convince him to begin sharing a room.

Starfire hit the button for Robin's door and stepped in over the threshold.

He wasn't moving, but she could still tell whatever unpleasant dream had hold of him was a very bad one; he was visibly grimacing even in his sleep, curled up tight, hunching into his shoulders and knees.

She approached carefully, and gently lay a hand on his shoulder.

At the warm contact he startled awake.

His eyes were wide with heartbreaking fear for a moment. But then they flickered with recognition as he saw her, soft shape silhouetted in the moonlight from his window, and he deflated with relief.

A faint apologetic smile crossed his lips. "Hey," he breathed. "Sorry."

"There is no need to apologize," Starfire told him, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he leaned up. "You know I am here for you."

He nodded, scooting closer, wrapping his arms around her and settling into her embrace. For several moments they just breathed together, existing in the silent comfort of the hug. His breath whistled through the strands of her hair and he was warm in her arms, as she pressed her palms softly to his back.

"Do you wish to talk about it, or do you wish for me to distract you?" she asked. She'd had much practice at gauging how to calm and comfort him.

"Um..." Robin considered for a couple seconds, then began to pull back. "Distract, I guess. I can't really remember it right now."

Starfire smiled. Sometimes she was lucky and was able to wake him in a fashion that his nightmares slipped right past his short term memory and were at once forgotten. She wound an arm around his waist, snuggling into his side. Reaching up she turned his chin towards her and kissed him, lips pressing warmly and firmly against his.

He blinked a bit dumbfounded when she pulled away. "What..." he asked, "...was that for?"

She giggled. "That was my distraction. Was it effective?"

From the disorganized look in his eyes she knew it had been. He shook himself, chuckling shortly. "You'd think I'd be used to kissing you by now," he said.

"Should we do it again?" she asked cheekily.

"I kind of wanted to just talk."

"Oh?" she said, surprised.

His smile was shy as he said, "I like hearing your voice. It's... soothing." He reached for her hand, clasping it. "How excited you get when you're talking about things always puts me at ease."

Heart warming, she smiled. "You are sweet," she told him. "I also feel relaxed in your company." She squeezed his hand, leaning into him. "I am running out of stories about Tamaran to tell you, however," she confessed.

"Heh. Okay, well... how about I talk this time?" he offered. "I know I haven't told you half the adventures I've had with Batman."

"Please," she said.

She pulled her feet up onto the bed and they leaned up against the pillows together, watching the moonlight creep across the wall. Robin talked and talked and she listened, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat and the feel of his skin against hers.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 8

Do You Say That to All the Girls?

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: angst; nightmares; hurt comfort; sex doesn't cure trauma (sorry)

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Maree was jostled awake by Kix writhing and thrashing next to her. Disoriented, she lay still for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of her bedroom. He whimpered and mumbled indistinctly, his distress clear. He struggled in the tangled, sweaty sheets as though he were caught in the grip of something far larger and more powerful. Cautiously, she moved to the edge of the bed and turned her lamp onto the dimmest setting. 

“Kix,” she whispered, stroking his shoulder. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

His eyes snapped open as he grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip.

“Wake up,” she said again. “You’re safe. Everything is all right.”

He blinked owlishly at her.

“Maree?” he asked brokenly.

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “You’re with me. You’re safe.”

He let out a shaky breath. She wiggled her fingers a little, trying to get the blood flowing to them. He released her wrist immediately.

“Sorry,” he said. His voice was gruff with exhaustion.

“No need to apologize,” she said. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

He nodded. She slipped out of bed and hurried to the kitchen. When she returned, he was sitting hunched over, head in his hands. She held out the glass, and he downed it in one go, handing it back to her with a mumbled thanks. She set it on the dresser and climbed back into bed next to him. She rubbed a soothing hand between his shoulder blades.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“That’s all right, too,” she said.

She straightened the blanket and sheets, then scooted up to the top of the bed and sat with her back against the headboard. He leaned over, resting his head against her bare chest. She wrapped one arm around him and stroked his hair with her other hand.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” he whispered.

“We can stay awake,” she said. “I’ll make some caf.”

“In a minute?” he asked. “Can we just stay like this for now?”

“Of course,” she said, tightening her arms around him.

Maree’s heart ached for him. She wondered if his nightmares were always this severe, or if they were made worse by reading about the Clone Wars. She had only witnessed the horrors of battle secondhand, first from her mothers’ own struggles and their accounts of the Rebellion, and later from her historical research. She knew how profound the trauma could be, even though she had never experienced it. She wished she could do more to help Kix, but she refused to push him. It was obvious that whatever he’d gone through had affected him deeply, and only he could decide if or when he would be ready to share it. 

They sat that way for so long that Maree’s arms began to tingle. She shifted a little and kissed the top of Kix’s head. He stirred.

“I can go, if you want,” he said. “That way you can get some sleep.”

“No, stay,” she said immediately. “I’d be getting up in an hour or two anyway. I’m here for you.”

He rolled over so he was lying on his belly between her legs. He propped himself up on his elbows and gazed up into her eyes.

“Why are you so kind to me?” he asked.

She stroked his face.

“Because you’re worthy of kindness,” she said. “You deserve compassion, and tenderness, and understanding.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“I don’t need to know everything,” she said. “I know enough to know that you’re a good man. I know that you would put yourself in harm’s way to protect someone you barely know. I know that you feel things deeply. I know that you have a magical hangover cure. And I know that, after only a few days, you understand who I am better than most people do after knowing me for years.”

“The things I’ve done…” he trailed off, and a tear traced from the outer corner of his eye.

She smoothed it away with her thumb.

“You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy,” she said gently.

He dropped his head onto her chest and inhaled deeply. She played with his hair, sliding her fingers through the black curls and massaging his scalp. She worked her way down his neck and onto his shoulders, pressing her thumbs into his muscles until she felt the tension drain away from him and he slumped heavily against her.

“Should we get some caf?” she asked at last.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her sternum.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Any time,” she promised.

Kix tugged on his pants and headed for the living room, picking up his discarded clothing along the way. Maree had put on a flowing, silky robe that somehow was exactly what he had expected her to wear as she moved quietly through the kitchen and made two cups of caf. She had filled her home—her entire life, really—with fine things. From the crisp, cool linens on her bed to the expensive shampoo that he’d lathered in her hair while they showered, everything spoke of a woman who enjoyed life’s luxuries. She’d been generous in opening her home to him and welcoming him into the gentle world she’d created for herself. It was so different from anything he’d ever experienced, and he found himself reluctant to leave.

It was selfish of him, of course. He knew he didn’t fit in such a soft place. The nightmares followed him wherever he went. He couldn’t hide. Not from his dreams, not from himself. He was all dark corners and sharp edges. If he stayed, he would destroy the delicate, beautiful life she had built. But maybe he could pretend, only for another hour, that he belonged here with her.

The thought occurred to him that she still thought he was a wealthy man, a major benefactor of the library. He couldn’t help wondering, traitorously, if she would have been so welcoming if she knew he was nothing but a pirate. It was true that he had earned more credits with Ithano’s crew than he’d ever even seen in his short life, but even so, it was a pittance compared to what she was accustomed to. The knowledge left an acrid taste in his mouth.

She handed him a cup of caf as she joined him on the sofa. The room was still shrouded in semi-darkness, and they sat together, watching the lights of Republic City through the window as they drank. Kriff, even her caf was better than any he’d ever tasted. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“I was just thinking I didn’t know caf could taste this good,” he prevaricated.

“It’s too bad the bakery isn’t open yet,” she said. “Their breakfast pastries are the best in the city.”

“I’m sorry I missed them,” he said.

“What time do you need to leave?” she asked.

“The shuttle leaves at 0800 hours,” he said. “I’ll need to check out of my hotel first.”

She nodded. Was he imagining it, or did she look disappointed? It didn’t matter, because he couldn’t keep her. No matter how badly he wanted to. Because men like him didn’t get to be with women like her. Because she was delicate and he was dangerous. Because she was brilliant and successful, and he was nothing but pirate sleemo. Because, worst of all, he’d lied to her. 

Seemingly unaware of his inner turmoil, Maree snuggled into his side.

“That’s perfect,” she said.

“It is?” he asked, befuddled.

“Yes. The bakery opens at 0530. I’ll just comm and have breakfast delivered before you go.”

Kix laughed. “You’re pretty amazing, did you know that?”

“You’re not so bad, yourself,” she said.

Before long, the door chimed, and Maree opened it to retrieve a bag from a delivery droid. She made a second round of caf and set two pastries on plates, then handed him the bag. He peeked inside to find a dozen of the spiced biscuits she liked to keep in her office.

“In case you get hungry on the shuttle,” she smiled.

“Marry me,” he said, not entirely joking.

“I bet you say that to all the girls with biscuits,” she laughed.

“Only the really good spice biscuits,” he objected.

All too soon, it was time for him to leave. Maree walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye with a promise to comm him as soon as her arrangements with the Imperial Military Records Archive were finalized. Kix stepped out into the dim, frigid daylight and wondered if he would ever feel warm again.

Kix looked so bereft as he departed that it felt like a kick in Maree’s stomach. She desperately wanted to pull him back, to call in sick and spend the rest of the day holding him, playing with his hair, massaging his shoulders. She knew that he was still reeling from whatever nightmare had troubled his sleep, and her every instinct told her that he was spiraling. But he’d been adamant that he had business on Coruscant, and given their brief acquaintance, she didn’t feel that it was her place to keep him from it. She doubted that she would have been able to convince him to stay, anyway. He seemed determined to believe that he didn’t deserve comfort or happiness.

Her flat felt too quiet without him in it. She dressed for work and went in early to escape the silence. She had several tasks that she wanted to clear before she went off-planet. She passed the morning scheduling the interns’ assignments for the quarter, and the afternoon she spent with Valsi Corruss reorganizing a collection that had been left in chaos by a visiting scholar. Valsi had the keenest eye for detail that Maree had ever seen, and she was an invaluable member of the archival staff. This also meant that she noticed everything that happened in the department.

“How’s your special research project progressing?” Valsi asked.

“It’s fascinating,” Maree said. “I’ve stumbled upon a mystery that I’m hoping to solve at the IMRA on Coruscant.”

“What kind of a mystery?” Valsi asked, intrigued.

“Missing records of a clone trooper division at the end of the war,” Maree replied. “It’s hard to say whether the company itself went missing or the records are just incomplete. It actually might involve your favorite Sith-Lord-turned-crime-boss, and that alone is enough to make me suspicious.”

Valsi snapped to attention. She had an interest bordering on obsession in the former Sith Lord Maul, who seemed to appear and vanish like a phantom in the timeline, wreaking chaos and destruction wherever he went. There was a significant gap in the historical record after his detention on Mandalore before he surfaced again as the shadowy leader of the Crimson Dawn crime syndicate.

“Interesting,” Valsi said. “If Maul was involved, he was likely to blame if the company did go missing. I’d love to hear what you find in the IMRA.”

“I’ll be sure to share my findings when I get back,” Maree said.

“When are you leaving?” Valsi asked.

“Teejay is still waiting for guest clearance from the IMRA,” Maree said. “We won’t be able to make the rest of the travel arrangements until we find out when I can get Kix into the archive.”

Valsi shot her an enigmatic look. “You’re taking him with you?”

“He is the client, after all,” Maree said. “We won’t be accessing any sensitive records.”

“Aren’t you curious about why he needs such detailed information?” Valsi asked.

“I’d be lying if I said no,” Maree admitted. “I know that he used to be a soldier, but I don’t know where he served. It does seem to be a very personal project for him.”

Maree paused, wondering if Valsi would think she’d lost her mind if she confessed her true suspicions about Kix. Even she doubted the possibility of what she had begun to surmise.

“I think—” she hesitated. “Whatever happened to him left deep scars. I wonder if this is his way of looking for answers when he can’t find closure for his own experiences.”

Valsi looked thoughtful. “Why would he be searching for meaning in something that happened fifty years ago?”

“I’m not sure. But sometimes I think he might be—” she stopped, took a deep breath, and asked, “Have you noticed that he looks a lot like Jango Fett?”

Valsi was startled. “You think he’s a clone? How could that be?”

“Not a clone, necessarily,” Maree scrambled to say. “But what if his father, or his grandfather, perhaps, was a clone?”

There. That’s more believable. Definitely doesn’t sound like a crackpot theory from a woman who has lost her grip on reality.

“That’s possible, I suppose,” Valsi said slowly. “There were some reports of troopers fathering children. None that were ever confirmed, though.”

“Do you think the Republic—or the Empire, for that matter—would have been eager to admit that they’d created millions of genetically identical men who might be able to reproduce? The impossibility of determining paternity alone would have created a legal and logistical nightmare. If the Kaminoans relied on a birth control method with even one-tenth of one percent failure rate, there could still have been thousands of clones with the potential to father biological children.”

“Given the clones’ well-documented paternal instincts, he could also be the adopted son or grandson of a clone trooper,” Valsi pointed out.

“Very true,” Maree agreed. “I know better than anyone that family doesn’t always mean blood relatives. Eema was never any less of a mother to me than Baba, even though I’m not her bio-daughter. Adoption wouldn’t explain the physical resemblance, though.”

“So your theory is that Kix is trying to uncover his father or grandfather’s fate in order to process his own trauma?” Valsi asked. “Have you considered just asking him why this research is so important to him?”

“I didn’t want to pry,” Maree said. “What if I ask Kix, and he gets angry and drops the research project?”

“Are you more worried about losing the project or offending him?” Valsi asked.

“Both,” Maree said. 

“What’s the worst that could happen? You could still continue the research on your own if he dropped it.”

“But I might never see him again,” Maree said.

Valsi stared at her. “Are you—do you have feelings for him?”

She sounded incredulous, and Maree felt a tiny surge of annoyance.

“Is that so improbable?” she asked.

“Yes,” Valsi replied bluntly. “I have known you for more than fifteen years, and never once have I seen you be interested in any relationship longer than a one-night stand.”

“You make it sound so crass,” Maree complained. “I haven’t had time for anything other than work. You know that.”

“And you’ve made a very comfortable life for yourself,” Valsi said. “Why bother changing it to accommodate someone else?”

“Exactly!” Maree said. “Wait, you say that like it’s not a good thing.”

“Only you can say if it’s a good thing,” Valsi said. “It’s your life, after all.”

“I don’t see you rushing to commit,” Maree said, a rush of defensiveness sharpening her tone. “You are just as career-focused as I am.”

“And we’re both brilliant at it,” Valsi said. “But only one of us has caught feelings.”

“I never said I’d caught feelings,” Maree protested. “I barely know the man. But even if I had, what do you think I should do? Quit my job and go running off with the first handsome face I see?”

Valsi stared at her. “Who said anything about quitting your job and running off?”

“No one!” Maree stammered. “I—”

“Is that what you want?” Valsi asked.

“Of course not,” Maree said automatically. “What would I even do if I left the Archive? It’s not like I could fund my own expedition to do field work and original research.”

“But that has always been your dream, though, hasn’t it?” Valsi pointed out. “I never understood it, personally. Why would anyone want to leave the nice, safe Archive and go gallivanting off to some Outer-Rim sith-hole is beyond me. But you always wanted to. Ever since our first semester of university, you said you wanted to study history up close. Why did you change your mind?”

“I didn’t,” Maree said miserably. “I’ve been submitting expedition proposals constantly since I started working at the Archive. They’ve all been rejected.”

Valsi stared. “How is that possible? You are one of the finest researchers on staff—present company excepted, of course.”

Maree forced a strained chuckle, and Valsi nudged her shoulder comfortingly.

“The Department of Outreach thinks my proposals aren’t compelling enough to outweigh the risk and expense of sending an expedition to the Outer Rim,” Maree said.

“Impossible,” Valsi declared. “Your area of scholarship is criminally under-studied. There has to be another explanation.”

“I guess I’m not that great of a scholar after all,” Maree said.

---

Chapter 9

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations

[forgotten-contract]

Voidtouched-blue--[prior]

Every time I've channeled my magic...more has been spent than was casted. This isn't new, but the blood- the horns...? This isn't right. And I can't heal the wounds with my own magic. It's like the protrusions themselves are absorbing it. "What am I missing?" With that whispered question, the Miqo'te took the opportunity of her solitude to begin her work once again. Gathering her inkwell, quill, and opening her compendium to clean pages she set the glowing crystal atop the open book. Once more the silence of her home had been filled with studious scratching of quill on parchment.

Normally, vomiting blood would be a note of concern. To the man that leaned with the flat of his forearms braced to the thick bark of a tree, this discomfort of empty bile and stinging iron was a choice. Not a welcome one, but he didn’t want it in his stomach any longer.

It was the same as those reddened standards that attacked them. Loathed on his pallet.

Despite the birdsong of the dawning hours Silvaire didn’t feel any sense of peace as he spat the taste from his mouth as his hands tightened against the wood, his head in the shadows of his hunched posture with a mixture of feelings he couldn’t really place.

Wrath was one of them. So was shame.

It was so much easier to feel apathy.

Part of him missed when he thought himself nothing but an object. How strange it was that compassion would change him so - that a gentle ‘please’ or appreciation of his work would taint his heart with such ferocity.

Sniffing with a shuddering exhale he stood proper, burying the mess in the dirt with marred shoes as he wiped a palm across his lips - a low shouldered sigh as he continued walking past the halfway point of the path to her home - stopping at the first body of water he could find to try and clean his features to some degree.

The shallow stream was slow enough that he could see the leer of his reflection as he kneeled at the edge; and for the blessing of that rising sun, it was still low enough that once he took his glasses off to reset the break in his nose again, wincing as it healed, Silvaire could focus through the bloom due to his healer’s hard earned work - seeing how tired he looked.

For a sleepless beast, exhaustion was as a rarity.

Whatever problem that woman had with the world had only strengthened once she learned his bruises would heal after biting her. As if finding a reset button for some injustice wrought upon her.

He’d feel bad if it hadn’t made her just as monstrous.

With a soft hiss as the cold water stung those closing marks he once more spit iron from his pallet, this time his own as he tilted his head forward to clean the new blood from his face. Like the time he’d accidentally taken a knife to his palm it was a slow process - the pain only coming through as injuries began to stitch themselves closed. Obvious to the low aetherical drops within that blackened well - filled and emptied over and over through the hours he spent in her bed - he could only focus on pieces at a time to clear them with directed thought, most by now unseemly yellows and purples with fading cuts.

A draining experience all in itself - scraping the bottom of his functional aether before those chains began to rattle.

Cleaned gloves pulled at the collar of his shirt and tie, to check the fading bruises of slender marks the countess seemed far too fond of; and from what he could tell of the colorless reflection of the water it seemed fair enough. His right eye fared very much the same, but it would heal in the walk he had left, assuredly. If not his glasses would hide the rest.

Rest.

She was probably still sleeping considering how much had been taken from her. That would be good, that would be nice.

Perhaps now he could come to lay beside her, hold her in that comfort, that warmth.

Yes. That would be the first thing he would do after changing clothes. The perfume had faded from what his senses could tell, but the knowledge of it made his jaw tighten. At least the woman been more enraptured with ordering him and playing than leaving marks to unfeeling materials, so nothing stained beyond some scattered darker drops of blood he’d done his best to rub clean.

Replacing his glasses to feel that tinted world anew, Silvaire continued on as the beam of the sun began to creep through the morning mists, the tired sound of his steps matching with the longing he had to just be at her side again. To feel that same mirth he’d foolishly left hours before.

And because the dawn had come before the countess had her fill, months from now if he were to return to Ul’dah, he would be required to do so again.

Maybe she had an allergy to nightwhisper too…

He was too tired to find humor in the thought.

Though, his heart brightened as the serene garden greeted him with dappled sun framing the doorway of that haven. And for a few moments he stood at the threshold of those pathed plants, as if willing himself to leave the grave he’d dug for himself outside her sanctuary, smoothing his appearance as ever and walking forward to quietly open the door-

-To quickly notice the sound of familiar scribbling and papers turning, doorless rooms giving ample notice for the study at the end.

Hesitation held him for only a heartbeat before that tiredness was pushed down and away; replaced with a smile as he cleaned his shoes on the moss by the door - walking into her home with a soft hum, hands clasped behind his back as he spoke.

“You’re awake, how are you feeling? Rested?”

It was silly for him to assume she’d just sit and accept a needed bed when answers loomed within parchment just out of reach. He couldn’t fault her, that dedication was part of her charm.

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Break A Leg - Castiel

My Masterlist.

Word count: 750, short n fluffy

Warnings: None.

Summary: Reader with a broken leg sleeps at the table because they don't think they can make it back to their room. Cas finds them, and even though he can't heal them, he finds a way to make up for it.

I groaned, stretching my leg out. I stretched the rest of my stiff muscles, wincing when a jolt of pain traveled up my leg. Blinking hard, I widened my eyes and tried to get them to focus. The room spun a little, forcing me to squeeze them shut again before I threw up. 

I hunched over the table, soon finding my forehead on the table when I began to drift off. I needed sleep. Looking down at my leg in its cast though, I was almost positive I wouldn't be able to make it to my room without falling down. I groaned again, shutting the old book and placing it further away from me on the desk. Shrugging out of my flannel, I balled it up into a makeshift pillow. I crossed my arms in front of me, and I was asleep as soon as my head was cradled in my elbows. 

Castiel pulled the bunker door shut behind him. "Sam. Dean." He called out. Wandering through the halls with a bit of purpose in his stride, he saw a figure, their leg in a cast, slumped over the library table. 

The book was closed, and he frowned. They hadn't fallen asleep doing research, they had intentionally fallen asleep here. Their broken leg was stretched out in front of them, clunky with the cast.

He wished he could heal them. 

A hand touched my shoulder, and I startled awake. My eyes were blurry with sleep, but I recognized the tan coat the person in front of me wore. "Cas?" I groaned, stretching my arms out in front of me and turning to him.

"You slept here? Intentionally?" He asked me immediately.

"No I- I guess I fell asleep doing research." I smiled apologetically. "Every little bit helps, right?" 

He was frowning now. "The book is closed." He said flatly.

"And? Nevermind, just-" I winced at a sore muscle in my neck. "Should've known that was going to happen." I muttered under my breath.

"You need to sleep. In a bed." 

"No shit sherlock." I sighed. "But I'm fine now."

"No, come on." Before I could protest, he was hauling me to my feet. I staggered slightly, but he was careful not to let my injury get jarred. 

"Why didn't you go back to your room?" He asked as we limped down the hall. 

"Wasn't sure I could make it." I mumbled abashedly. He was silent until we got to my room, and he had helped me to sit on my bed.

"I should be able to heal you. I'm sorry." He apologized, guilt evident on his face as he pulled away.

"It's okay, Cas. Hey," I said to get his attention back on me. His gaze had drifted off like it did when he was beating himself up over something. He turned back to me. "It's fine. Don't blame yourself." 

"If I had my grace-" 

I cut him off. "Don't even go there." I said sternly. "It's not your fault." He sighed, but didn't reply. His frown had lessened, but I knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. 

"If you want to make it up with me…" I trailed off, and his eyes met mine as he tilted his head to the side. "You can stay here." 

"I will." He shifted on the edge of the bed.

"Get comfy."

"I am." 

"No Cas," I stifled a laugh, but not my smile. He gave me a curious glance. "Lay down. Get comfy."

"Oh." 

I was quick to add. "If you're comfortable with that, of course. You don't have to-"

"I'm more than comfortable with it." He had a fond smile on his face now. I felt my face heat up when I wondered what he meant by that. 

He kicked his shoes off and shrugged out of his coat and jacket. I scooted to the side with a wince. "Careful." He murmured. He laid beside me in a half sitting, half lying down position. I startled slightly when his arm snaked around my shoulders. 

"I'm sorry, is-"

"No, no. It's more than comfortable." I repeated him, smiling as I leaned against him. Sighing contentedly, my aching body finally relaxed for the first time in days. I felt Castiel lean his chin on the top of my head, and his hand wrapped around my bicep as I unconsciously curled closer to him. I had been more exhausted than I thought, because in his presence, I passed out almost instantly. 

[lavendertales]

In the eye of the beholder—Alfie Solomons x f!reader** (part 3)

summary: things get more intimate between you and Alfie albeit the danger and you both come to realize your future together needs to be discussed.

word count: 3.2k

WARNINGS: cunnilingus, face sitting, unprotected piv, hints of breeding kink.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

A/N: last part! thank you so much for all the support and feedback! hope you enjoy this, my lovebugs!

gif: @michaelgreys​ 

It must’ve been hours since the incident and Alfie still wouldn’t look at you. Well past midnight now, he was muttering some apparent nonsensical things to himself whilst looking around your house for things he hadn’t asked you about.

Now more than ever, you needed him. In all of the ways you once deemed as impossible.

“Alfie.”

No response; he placed a blanket at the foot of your bed and was staring at his gun still, grunting alongside his murmurs. You walked over to him and placed a hand on his sturdy, broad shoulder to get his attention.

“Alfie,” you repeated, stronger this time. “Look at me. Please?”

“I should’ve shot them fucking dead sooner,” he replied, head lowered into the ground. “The whole lot of ‘em. Shot their fucking brains out and watch them splatter all over the fuckin’ walls before they even had a fuckin’ chance of getting close—“

Then you noticed it. He was hunched over, head in the ground, teeth clenched and hands froze on his gun. You’d never seen him this angry and incoherent and you began fearing he’d get hurt somehow.

With shaky hands, you took the gun from him and placed it on your nightstand, intertwining his fingers with his. That’s what ultimately broke Alfie down and made him look at you, so beautifully disheveled he felt the need to thank whatever deity above for the gift of eyesight.

“Alfie, I’m okay,” you said, recognizing the fact that he was, to some extent, also in shock, only he was reacting differently. “I’m alright, thanks to you.”

“That fuckin’ wop of Sabini came into my shop—my shop, alright?! And they were going to fuckin’ kill you! You! They’ve had worse in mind, don’t you think otherwise, luv… they would’ve done unspeakable things.”

“But they didn’t. You saved me.”

Alfie laughed, the sound edging on hysteria. “You got in this mess… because of me. I didn’t reckon you was stupid and not realize—“

“I am not stupid, Alfie Solomons. Watch your tongue.”

First time he’s heard you be firm, yet feisty and he had quite the craving for it. But the pain and anger he felt mere hours ago overshadowed anything else.

He nodded repeatedly, seemingly carrying a mental conversation with himself, and then he looked at you. His emerald eyes were suddenly tired and they carried guilt.

“I would’ve torn them apart limb by limb,” Alfie groaned. “Took out their tongues, feed them to dogs, then cut off their balls… and then kill them. That was no fucking way to treat a woman. My woman.”

You suppressed a gasp, allowing him some space to decompress albeit the fact that you held his hands tightly into yours.

“No one, and I mean fuckin’ no one… lays a hand on you. Ever. In any way.”

“I think they’ve got the message,” you told him sweetly. “They’re gone now.”

“You shouldn’t have seen that. I never wanted you to be a part of this nonsense.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Alfie broke the hold you had over him to pace around the room, clearly still deep in thought.

“You’ve seen the worst of me,” he said. “You’ve seen what I do, the people I deal with… and this is not even the worst I can do. There you have it. So the question is now, luv… why are you still here?”

Nearly breathless, you remained still and drew a deep breath before you spoke again.

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I love you.”

The silence that came after your declaration was earsplitting. Alfie frowned, unable to believe his ears. He approached you in two quick steps and you gulped, standing your ground.

“I do,” you continued boldly, yet awfully fragile considering the events of the night. “I… I never felt safer or more cared for than when I am with you.”

“It doesn’t make any—fuckin’ sense, now does it? How can you—“

“Love does not make sense! It’s not rational. It’s… crazy and… messy and passionate and fragile… all at once. Love… consumes you, fills you up and gives you strength and weakens you at the same time.”

Now that Alfie could understand. He’s never felt more secure in anything in his life ever since you showed up at the bakery and each moment he got to spend with you was an endless source of goodness.

But when he saw that man pointing the gun at your temple, his hand reaching below your waist… he lost all sense of reality. It was that treacherous moment that brought him the knowledge true to your words. Love was strength and weakness, confidence and weakness all wrapped in one big, messy lump.

“So if you’re going or fire me and ask me to leave… at least you should know where I stand,” you said softly.

“I don’t deserve this.”

You frowned, closing the space between the two of you further. “What?”

“You.”

You could see the pain and desperation on his face. There was no mask to be worn anymore. Alfie was too exhausted and—oh goodness—terrified to pretend he was the same big, threatening man the whole town knew him as. You realized how terrified he must’ve been to feel all those things, to allow himself to care so deeply that he was ready to disembowel someone without a single trace of remorse.

You said nothing as you finally reached him, cupping one of his cheeks and watching his reaction. Alfie closed his eyes, shutting them as if in pain, and then you grabbed both his cheeks, thus forcing him to look at you. You sought his eyes with need, craving comfort and intimacy.

“You do,” you told him at last. “You deserve good things as well.”

“You’re no… good thing. You’re the best thing in my life.”

Alfie opened his eyes, locking with yours; his were emanating remorse and softness while yours were simply desperate. Desperate for his touch, his warmth and all that he could offer to you.

You smiled, caressing his the soft flesh of his cheek with your thumb. “I’m here, Alfie. And I love you.”

Alfie muttered your name, still insecure, but you took the lead.

“You don’t have to say it back or anything,” you reassured him. “I just… wanted you to know.”

Alfie had a way with words; harsh, menacing words, that is. Soft-spoken ones, declarations of pure intentions and feelings were certainly not in his agenda, so you wanted to spare him the effort. It was futile anyway, when all you craved was to feel him.

You saw eye the eye—or so you chose to think—because the next moment, all you knew were Alfie’s plush lips on yours. You opened your mouth, let him swallow you whole and explore your cavities; you could feel everything he felt, from fear and affection to impatience and neediness. The kiss grew from tender to desperate in a matter of seconds, as if Alfie was afraid he might lose you if he’d let you go. Your hands cupped his cheeks as he pulled you in, gluing your body to his. You turned into a puddle under his touch, in his arms, and felt a shiver run down your spine when Alfie’s hands roamed your back, eager to touch you.

Alfie broke the kiss to draw in a quick breath before moving his hands to the back of your thighs and hoisted you up without a problem and carrying you to your bedroom. Your eyes never left his, even when he gently dropped you to the edge of the bed, your legs dangling off of it. You watched him as he reached to the tie of your pants, dragging them down, followed by your underwear. Air got stuck in your lungs, refusing to exit your body as you stared at him, kissing his way up your legs and thighs, spreading your legs apart.

“A-Alfie—“

He hummed, not noticing your nervousness at first. When you said his name a second time, more decisive rather than with pleasure, he looked up from in between your legs and remarked your expression.

You froze. You had no idea how to explain it to him, or how you should even begin. But Alfie’s intellect came to your aid.

“Don’t tell me no one’s went down on you, luv,” he said incredulously.

You shook your head.

“How many brought you what they thought was pleasure before?”

“Two.”

“Cunts.”

You finally exhaled, more amused than anything. Anticipation had you in a cold grip, making you squirm and tremble with excitement.

“Those are no men,” Alfie continued, one hand gripping the pillowy flesh of your thigh. “A real man eats well.”

You felt Alfie’s ragged beard tickle the inside of your thighs as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your cunt first, then he started to work his way to your center.

The first lick he gave was tentative, languid and careful. You instantly moaned, head backwards in an already mind-boggling ecstasy that you’ve never felt before. Alfie’s touches grew more confident with each of your moans and he began lapping at your folds, his nose nudging your bud. You grasped the sheets and moaned louder; his warm mouth buried into your core was more than you could handle. He licked dutifully, adding a finger to his ministrations, and your hands immediately went to his hair, tugging once in a while by accident. But the gesture did nothing more than spur Alfie on, make him grunt right through you and eat you alive.

“Fuckin’ hell, you taste like heaven,” Alfie grunted from down below, his thumb rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Every word you knew fled from your mind; there was nothing to know but Alfie’s mouth, expertly pleasing you, and you fleetingly realized that you’ve never known pleasure before. What you thought was good twice before, paled in comparison to Alfie. Every flick of his tongue sent you into overdrive and soon you started to frantically rub yourself on him.

Alfie’s grip over you tightened and just as you felt an unfamiliar burn in your lower belly that had you craving for even more, he stopped. You couldn’t even protest; the bed sunk with his weight as he pulled you over him, your legs on his either sides of his face. Completely taken aback, you struggled to catch your breath as you stood atop of him.

“Go on, luv,” Alfie encouraged you. “Ride my face.”

“Wh—What?”

“Take what you want.”

Albeit your insecurity, when Alfie’s fingers dug into the warm flesh of your thighs, you allowed yourself to forget everything and live in the moment.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth when Alfie pressed his mouth against your cunt again. He devoured you like a starving man and grabbed your ass to guide you with your movements. You quickly got the hang of it and forgone all of your inhibitions as you began rocking yourself on his face. Alfie was straight-up drinking from you and groaned huskily, sound that reverberated straight through your body.

The hot feeling returned, pooling in your belly, ready to be detonated. The release you didn’t even realize you so desperately craved hit you like a tidal wave. You came with a loud cry of his name, one that inflated his confidence and ego, yet Alfie kept lapping at your folds even as your legs were shaking on top of him. You started to get worried after a while, thinking how the man touched and pleased like he had been deprived for years and how he didn’t even bother coming up for air.

“Alfie…”

Your voice trailed off, unable to collect your thoughts into one coherent sentence. You clumsily removed yourself from his face, watching in shock as he licked his lips with utmost devilish delight. “Now that was a fuckin’ treat.”

Your ears reddened, flattery nesting easily in your chest. Alfie held you in his lap still, rising up to meet you in a fiery kiss, far more desperate than before. You felt how hard he’d grown, briefly admiring his dedication to you. When you broke the kiss, you did so only to stare at him for a little while, admire his strong yet beautiful features. The look in your eyes was more than just that of awe, it was gratitude, love.

The kiss deepened, making you unable to notice the precise moment Alfie flipped you over, crashing atop of you and guiding himself to your entrance. Your gasps and moans were a sweet serenade to his ears, and it still took him aback to have someone as wonderful as you think so highly of him and feel such strong emotions for him. He felt unworthy, even if you were so wildly responsive to his touches, spreading your legs eagerly for him and thus awakening some primal desire to cherish and possess the highest of treasures: you.

“Please… please,” you barely breathed.

“What you need from me, luv?”

“I want you. Please? I—I need to feel you.”

He could’ve easily came just from hearing your sweet pleas, your lovely yet desperate voice calling out to him like a siren.

Alfie was only a man, after all. He had weaknesses, and you were his biggest one. He couldn’t resist you under any form. So when his hand spread your legs once more and the tip of his cock, almost weeping by then, was pushing past your entrance with utmost care in the world, he knew he was a goner.

You pushed your head back on the pillow, eyes closed at the sensation, mouth agape as Alfie pushed into you. His warm breath lingered on your face, and you could tell he was just as erratic as you were. Usually a big talker, you noticed that in such an intimate moment, Alfie didn’t have much to say.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he muttered, giving you an experimental roll of his hips that your mouth wide open at the sensation.

You bit your lower lip as Alfie started to move; you felt each languid drag of his cock through your walls, each motion setting you afire and taking you one step closer to the highest mountain of pleasure.

“Hear me, my luv? All mine.”

My. All mine.

The words got stuck in your brain on a loop and you nodded frantically, one leg around his waist and pulling him by his hair. Alfie leaned over and kissed you again—and again, and again, and again until he was running out of breath and his hips were clashing against yours in a more rapid pace once he deemed you were ready to feel him fully.

He was pushing inside of you more rapidly while your hands roamed on his back, fingernails digging into his muscles the more your walls contracted around him. You were getting so close that all you could do was breathe through your mouth.

“All yours,” you finally whispered in a frenzy.

Alfie grunted with pleasure and happiness, feeling his body burn. The sounds turned into guttural moans and, during the last few seconds of sanity, he slammed his hips into yours in hopes of bringing you to completion before him.

And it worked; you came with a loud moan and his name staining your lips, and Alfie followed mere seconds later with a shocking declaration.

“I fuckin’—love you—so fuckin’ much—“

Forehead pressed against yours, Alfie came, the feeling of his warm seed spilled inside you a forbidden pleasure of some sort. You welcomed all of him, every single drop of his passion and love he gave to you, and you reached for his lips again. God, you could never get enough of them.

Time was futile after that. Neither of you knew how long you’d spent there, with Alfie still inside of you and pecking your face adoringly and you caressing his cheeks.

“Did you mean it?” you asked eventually in the night. “When you said—“

“What did I tell you before?”

“That you never say what you don’t mean.”

“That’s right.”

You smiled, feeling full and content as if yesterday’s events hadn’t occurred.

“Am I still fired?”

Surprisingly, Alfie chuckled at your remark. “I may be a lo’ of things, but I’m no monster. Can’t fire someone after spending the night with them. Would be quite disrespectful of me, don’t you think?”

“Does this also mean you want me here, instead of some other filthy town?”

This time, Alfie was the one who caressed your cheek. His touch was gentle, as if he was afraid you’d crumble right underneath it.

“Always assume I want you here, with me, little one.”

He kissed your forehead before pulling out of you, leaving you with a terribly empty feeling. When he returned with a cloth to clean you, something inside of him revered the sight of you dripping with both your arousal.

“Perhaps one day it will stick,” you said, catching his attention.

“You want—?”

“Maybe.”

Alfie pressed the cloth gently onto your core, trying not to comment on that remark. But in his mind, the seed had been planted and thus an idea was born that very moment.

That night had been long. You and Alfie continuously found each other time and time again, flesh burning and itching with your presence, new throes of passion shouted with each thrust, each flick of the tongue and fingertips touch. The words I love you had been tossed around more than you would’ve ever thought possible; either whispered or moaned, you spent the night having Alfie buried balls deep inside you and reassuring him that you were undeniably his.

“No one’s gonna lay a finger on you, my luv,” he whispered as he removed a stray lock of hair from your face. “Ever.”

“I know. I feel the safest with you.”

You buried your face at his chest, his musky scent and the warmth of his skin wrapping you in a blanket of comfort. You allowed silence to intervene between the two of you and rest peacefully there while you enjoyed having Alfie’s arms wrapped tight around you.

“Marry me.”

You lifted your head and stared at him with disbelief. The first rays of sunshine were barely coming in through the window, beautifully illuminating the landscape that you and Alfie’s body painted together in the messy bed, and you could easily see the delight and seriousness displayed across his face.

“Are you serious?” you chuckled.

“I never say what I don’t mean. We went over this, luv.”

“I know. I know. I just… I wouldn’t have thought you’d ask me… that in such a moment.”

“You reckon there’s a better moment than this one right now?”

You supposed there wasn’t. It was just you and him, in the privacy of your home, the intimacy of your sheets, at the crack of dawn. A smile rose from the corners of your lips as you pulled him in and kissed him sweetly.

“Don’t leave me hangin’, my luv.”

“I think it’s obvious, Alfie.”

He chuckled, returning the kiss and feeling a ridiculous amount of happiness.

Alfie Solomons hasn’t truly known happiness before, but he was starting to think this right here was it. Pure bliss.

previous

[bluecookies02]

Can I please request for Hawks, Dabi and Aizawa walking in on their S/O using a vibrator on themselves? (Btw they don’t know that they have it also their s/o aren’t moaning their name just heavy breathing) please thank you! Can be headcannons or Drabbles. Thank you!!💕

YESSSSSS, ALL OF MY HUSBANDS, ABSOLUTELY

(NSFW // minors do not interact)

TAKAMI KEIGO/HAWKS

He rarely comes home early, on contrary he's always held up by the commission well over his working hours, causing him to be late, the apology texts being a constant in your relationship.

And you understand, you really do, you learned to get busy with your own things throughout the day. Especially when the fact that you're alone in your home settles down in your brain.

You find joy in spoiling yourself, and while you do sometimes miss the touch of your lover, the small buzzing against your clit makes it almost impossible to keep on dwelling over that, especially when you press the toy a bit harder, head thrown back on the soft pillow. The lights are dimmed, your discarded clothes scattered over the bed, the soaked panties laying at your feet. It all adds to the appeal for the golden eyes that peek through the door, heavy, tired wings jumping back to life.

Breathing out heavily, you fiddle with the speeds on your vibe, greedily upping it until it feels overwhelming, too ruthless on your sensitive cunt. The one under it is too low, too faint for how worked up you are. You decide to torture yourself for a while, refusing to move it away from you, despite the small zap-like sensation that surges all the way through your stomach. Your fingers briefly dig and scrape over your thigh before you manage to still your hips, letting the vibe do its work. Your eyes are out of focus, imagination running wild as you drunkenly stare at your ceiling.

You dip the toy between your folds, slicking it up, the reduced friction making it almost perfect, toes curling in a warning. You feel it in your gut, hips bucking off the bed, the warm knot in your tummy signaling that if you don't stop soon you're gonna reach the point of no return, definitely ruining the oh so precious buildup you've got going on.

You peel your own hand away, determined to make it last a little while longer, your legs closing around nothing, the toy dropped on the mattress.

Your gasp is followed by a deeper groan, making your eyes snap to the door. You're relieved to find your boyfriend hunched over the door frame, cheeks red as his knees threaten to give out. His hand is wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, his pants barely pulled down. So close. He was so terribly close.

His sharp teeth bruised his own lips from biting down too hard, a hand muffling his noises just in case (so much for that). You slowly click the off button, sitting up, wanting to make your way to your boyfriend. Your heart beats all the way to your ears, the rollercoaster of emotions doing a number on your poor heart.

"No, no, you can keep going" he says quietly, motioning you back to the bed as he takes tentative steps to a chair, turning it to face you.

You have to swallow around the lump in your dry throat, nodding as you spread your legs open again, adjusting so that he can have a better view. The slow buzz of your toy sends shivers down his spine, the wet sound of your pussy even louder now that he's this close to you.

that's how you manage to edge your boyfriend until he has literal tears rolling down his cheeks

TOUYA TODOROKI/DABI

cw:dabi is a perv

Dabi is a little creep. He constantly sneaks into your apartment...he peeks through every crack he can just to get a glimpse of you. It doesn't matter that you're dating, it adds a certain thrill to his day, especially when you jump up, startled and scared when he just....*shows up*

So far he caught you pleasuring yourself a handful of times, most of which were in the privacy of your bathroom. He loves to watch, loves to see exactly how you like it. He gets off on the shy moans you let out, quiet even when you're all alone in your home, the lewd sounds that rush past your lips muffled with the back of your hand.

He often strokes his cock, mumbling to himself, praising you even though you're too busy to hear him. He does little to nothing to keep it down, relishing in how oblivious you are to the slick sound of his length fucking into his fist. He takes breaks whenever you do, he matches his pace to yours fully, the grin never leaving his face.

It's not until he caught you on your couch of all places, legs bent to your knees, a rabbit vibrator stuffed inside your pussy, the little ears of it bumping against your clit ever so slightly. He's in a daze...he never guessed that his precious girl owned anything of the sort.

If you thought your sex life was great before, wait until he starts looking into all kinds of toys , using your card to buy them.

AIZAWA SHOUTA/ERESERHEAD

For him to not know that you own a sex toy, the relationship would have to be pretty new, I'm talking like "just got together, fucked a handful of times" type of new.

He gets internally excited, hoping that it'll be a nice start of a conversation later. For now, he'll carefully knock, offering his help. He'll take good care of you alright.

He'll finger you while he teases you with the vibe, pressing down and then raising it up from your clit ever so often. He'll play with the settings until he finds the one that tortures you the most, thoroughly getting you nice and fucked out before he even thinks about putting his cock anywhere near your pussy.

If Aizawa is something, that's passionate. He's lazy, but not when it comes to making his partners feel good. It's a way for him to unwind from work and finally do something that doesn't give him a headache.

He loves the way you look all soaked up, your folds slippery, glistening from his spit and many generous orgasms he gave you, making his fingers slide with ease. He eats pussy for his own pleasure, turning off the vibe and placing it on the bed, mushing his face between your legs. He nuzzles and munches on the fat of your thighs, leaving faint love bites all over your skin.

Then you can feel the tickle of his stubble as he starts suckling on your pussy, humming and mouthing at your cunt. He talks with your puss in his mouth, slurred words of praise about the way you taste and smell. He has his spit dribbling down his chin, arms secured on top of you to keep you in place.

He also loves eating ass, pls let this man eat your ass, Aizawa is an ass man, give him a taste of your voluptuous a- khm

He'll go on until his tongue goes numb. Like numb to the point where he has to slowly put it back in his mouth because his muscles are in p a i n

He'll turn the vibe back on while he fucks you, begging for you to not cum even tho he has it on the highest setting. It makes your walls flutter just right and he's so close. Hold out for him, he deserves it, he worked for it.

"Just a little bit more, I got you, please...I'm sorry...I know...you're doing so good, I know you can do it, I'm right behind you " He cums so hard he almost tumbles over, your cunt squeezing him dry, your toes curl and legs wiggle out of his grip to run away from the intensity of the toy that he still has hovered over your clit.

not proofread, it's 1 am and we die like men.

I'll ban the words "vibe" and "toy" from my vocabulary for a month after this. I still enjoyed it tho. Everything has a cost.

MY LINKS-> Ko-Fi | Patreon

[from-the-clouds]

hi! i’m not sure if you’re taking succession requests currently but do you think you could write some post s3 finale angst for roman x fem!reader? thank youu <3

yesss of course i can! i <3 roman. i made this more of a blurb because i tend to get carried away writing this kind of stuff so i hope you enjoy!

also just a general note to anyone who follows me i am always open to receiving requests i just don't always respond right away cause it takes me some time to write them. so thank you for this!!

warnings: angst, sadness, spoilers for S3.

It was still dark, sometime in the early morning, when you awoke to find him hunched on the ottoman at the edge of your bed.

Sighing, you shifted out from under the covers and climbed over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Rome,” you said, and he didn’t even seem to notice you were there until you said his name, eyes red-rimmed and glazed over.

“I’ve always been loyal,” he said. “And it still wasn’t enough. It meant nothing to him.”

You shifted so you were sitting next to him. There were no words you could say to reverse the years of damage Logan had caused him. You’d seen enough, just in the few months you’d been together, to know he was in far too deep to avoid getting out unscathed. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

Of course, you’d been over this already. He’d told you everything the second he got back to your room, after separating from Shiv and Kendall, he was distressed. You’d seen him crack jokes even in the most grim of circumstances, but he had no quippy one-liners, no sarcastic comments. Roman was just….numb.

You didn’t know how to handle this side of him, you’d never seen it, and even his siblings seemed lost in their own world, unable to provide support. The flight back to New York left in a few hours, and you hoped the change in scenery might help. Maybe you could go on a trip, get away from it all.

“We’re all fucked,” he said. “I have no idea what I’m going to do now. My whole fucking life it’s just…”

“I know you might not believe me right now,” you said. “But you’re going to figure it out.”

When his head dipped to rest in his hands, like he was trying to collapse into himself, disappear, you reached out to press your thumbs into his shoulders. “I’m here for you.”

Roman leaned into you then, arms wrapping around around your waist, head against your chest, and you returned his embrace.

“No problem this big has ever been solved at 3am, Roman.” you whispered softly. “You should at least try to get some rest. Will you come back to bed?”

He nodded, and you both slipped back under the covers. His head on your chest, your arm across his shoulders, you let your fingers run through his hair, rubbing his scalp, as he held you tighter than he ever had.

“I’ll always have your back,” you said.

At the sound of your voice, Roman lifted his head, arm rising so he could cup your cheek and look down at you, pushing a piece of hair out of your face. Your breath hitched, as he wasn’t always super affectionate. When he kissed you, chaste but passionate, you were surprised how much you could feel, everything that words couldn’t convey. Thank you.

He pulled away, returning to lie in your arms. You would talk more in the morning. It would take time, you knew, for him to move forward. But he knew you had him on his side. And for tonight, it was enough.