#its been a fun day but my guilt is weighing on me

[snixx]

i need to math but i just go to my lecture slides. forget how to read. pull up youtube so i can watch a lecture so something gets into my brain. get recommended a byler video on the home page. go on byler tumblr. scroll. go on ao3. go back on byler tumblr. make a shitpost. feel hungry. go and get a snack. scroll through byler tumblr some more. read a fic. yawn. take a nap. wake up. go for a walk. scroll through tumblr. im DEFINITELY going to study now. stare at my lecture slides for five minutes unable to process any words. put on some music. go for another walk. get an ask on tumblr. answer the ask. go back to sleep. eat another snack. text someone. feel hungry. repeat. ive been doing this all day someone send help

[03jyh23]

🩶⌇nights like these┆choi san

established relationship, idol!san x gn!reader

│synopsis: the one where you are san's priority

│genre: hurt/comfort

│trigger warnings: descriptions of chronic illness, pain, nausea, and emotional distress

│words: 2.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! this one is a requested work that is very important to me! the person who requested it shared their struggles with me, so i put a lot of care and effort into writing this piece. i hope it brings them comfort and resonates with anyone else going through similar challenges. thank you for trusting me with your story. ♡

love, monika ♡

you: sannie, im sorry but im not gonna make it tonight, have fun! love you x

You barely typed out the message and leaned deeper into the soft pillows. You hated feeling that way, feeling completely out of control of your own body. It was as if your own flesh and bones had turned against you, conspiring to ruin the moments you had been looking forward to. Another rush of nausea hit you, stronger this time, and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. The persistent and haunting question lingered in your mind: Why were you so out of control? You wished you could muster the strength to push through, to be by San's side, but tonight, your body had other plans. You were helpless against a body that sabotaged all your important plans. You wanted the energy to be with San, to support him and not to disappoint the person you loved yet again, but tonight, you knew there was nothing you could do to feel better. You just needed to lay through it  

After all this time of having this health problem, you learned just how to live with it, so since early morning you tried to push the symptoms aside, focusing on getting ready. It was a routine you had perfected—ignoring the pain, the nausea, the overwhelming fatigue. You had become a master of disguise, hiding your struggles behind a cheerful facade. But tonight, even your best efforts weren't enough. 

Usually, you would go about with your day, that's why you were currently lying flat on your bed dressed in that pretty outfit San bought for you especially for tonight, all ready to go and celebrate with him. Just as you were about to leave, the usual symptoms hit you with the power of a train. It was as if your body had chosen this exact moment to remind you of its frailty, to assert its dominance over your will. Tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight, you were supposed to be standing beside San, holding his hand and cheering for him. You had been looking forward to this night for weeks, planning every detail. The thought of disappointing him weighed heavily on you, maybe even heavier than the nausea. You knew how much it meant to him to have you there, and the guilt gnawed at you from the inside. 

A burning stomach pain flared up, adding to the discomfort. It felt as though your insides were on fire, each wave of pain more intense than the last. You clutched your stomach, curling up tighter, wishing for some relief. The pain was relentless, a cruel reminder of the battle you were fighting within your own body. It was moments like these when you felt most defeated, most vulnerable. 

"Baby?" you opened your heavy eyes only to see San kneeling beside the bed, eye level with you. You didn't even notice you had fallen asleep. His eyes were filled with concern, his short, black hair was styled back, making him look incredibly elegant. He wore a white shirt with the first few buttons casually unbuttoned. His eye makeup was minimal, with just a hint of eyeliner to accentuate his eyes, exactly the way you always liked it. He must have rushed out straight from his dressing room, you thought as you blinked a few times to get rid of the tiredness. 

"Sannie? What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

San reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

"I just had a feeling that today is rough on you. You didn't reply to any of my calls, so I rushed home," he said softly, his voice filled with concern and love. "I couldn't just leave you here alone," he said softly. "I wanted to be here for you." 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to ruin your night," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. 

San shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey, don't say that. You could never ruin my night. I just want to be here with you, make sure you're okay," he reassured, his hand gently stroking your head. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, overwhelmed by his kindness. 

"I just hate feeling like this, being a burden," you admitted, your voice trembling. 

San’s expression softened even more. His fingers traced the few tears that managed to escape your eyes, then he kissed your forehead whispering, "You never are nor never will be a burden." You closed your eyes, feeling the gentle touch of his soft lips against your skin, a tingling warmth spreading through you. The tension in your muscles began to melt away as San’s fingers traced soothing patterns along your arm. You took a deep breath, allowing the warmth of his presence to envelop you. The pain and nausea, though still present, seemed to fade into the background as you focused on the steady rhythm of his touch. 

"But the party?" you mumbled out, "The boys must be so disappointed." 

San shook his head gently, his expression softening even more. "Don't worry about them right now. The boys understood, and Hongjoong reassured me it was all good. What's important is that we take care of you," he said soothingly, his fingers continuing to trace comforting patterns on your arm. 

"Thank you, Sannie," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "For being here." 

He kissed your forehead again, lingering a bit longer this time. "Of course, my love. Always," he whispered back, his breath warm against your skin. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it eased some of the guilt that had been weighing you down. "Can you stand up? We need to get you in something comfortable first," San suggested gently, his hands ready to help you. You nodded weakly, grateful for his help as he eased you out of the outfit and into something more comfortable. 

"Is it any better now that you've slept for a while?" he asked, his voice filled with gentle concern as he rearranged the pillows on the bed. He brought an extra blanket, knowing you would likely get cold. 

"A little," you admitted, your voice still weak but filled with gratitude. "But I can feel the migraine creeping in slowly," you added, your voice tinged with fatigue and frustration. 

San nodded, his brow furrowing slightly with worry. "I'll get your medication and some water," he said, standing up to fetch the items. 

"I don't think I can take the medications," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "It feels like if I swallow anything, I would just rush to the toilet." 

San paused, his eyes filled with concern. "Okay, let's not push it then," he said softly, returning to your side. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to rest your head on his shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, a soothing rhythm that started to calm your racing thoughts. He began drawing gentle patterns on your back, a gesture that always made you relax, his touch tender. 

You breathed in his cologne and felt your stomach clenching. The scent, usually comforting and familiar, now seemed overwhelming to your already sensitive senses. You backed out from his arms, holding a hand to your face to stave off the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake you. San looked at you with wide eyes, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion and concern before it hit him. "Love, I'm so sorry, it's the perfume? Too strong? I'm gonna change," he said hurriedly, already moving towards the closet to find something else to wear. 

"It's okay, Sannie," you mumbled, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "I just need a moment." 

But San had already swapped his formal shirt for something more comfortable and less scented. He returned to your side, "Better now?" he asked softly, his eyes searching for any sign of relief. 

You only nodded, and he took your hand, guiding you to the bed. "You are babying me too much," you mumbled as you followed in his steps, your voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and mild embarrassment.

San shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Hm...." he scoffed dramatically, "I think I don't baby you enough, though?" 

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh despite the pain and discomfort you were feeling. San's dramatic tone and exaggerated expression brought a moment of lightness to an otherwise heavy night. "Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to match his playful energy. 

"Absolutely," he replied with a grin, sitting down beside you. "Now, let's get you settled." You settled back into the bed, feeling a bit more at ease with San by your side. The pain and nausea were still there, but somehow, with his presence, they seemed a little more bearable. "Do you need me to bring something?" San asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. 

You shook your head slightly, feeling the weight of his love and care enveloping you. "Just stay here with me, that's all I need," you whispered.

"Alright, I will just put the curtains in case the migraine hits," he said as he quickly darted through the room to the windows. You watched him with tired eyes, the room dimmed as he drew the curtains, blocking out the harsh light that often worsened your migraines. The soft, muted light that remained was much gentler on your senses. 

San returned to your side, his movements gentle and deliberate, as if he were afraid of causing you any more discomfort. "Scoot over," San said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. You shifted slightly, making room for him on the bed. He carefully climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you. 

"Thank you for being so patient with me. I really needed you tonight," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. 

San held you a little tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what," he murmured softly. San was drawing small circles on your back, your face buried in his chest. Your eyes were heavy, the migraine setting in, and you could feel the pressure building behind your temples. The gentle, rhythmic motion of his hand was soothing, a small comfort amidst the pain and discomfort, allowing you to relax slightly despite the throbbing in your head. 

Just as you began to drift off to sleep, your body started trembling uncontrollably. The sudden tremors jarred you awake, and you felt a wave of panic wash over you. San immediately noticed, his grip tightening around you in a protective embrace. 

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here," he whispered, his voice steady and calming. He gently rubbed your back, trying to soothe your body. "Just breathe, love. I'm right here with you." You focused on his voice, on the warmth of his presence, trying to steady your breath. The trembling slowly began to subside, and you clung to San, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. "Are you feeling dizzy again? Like the last time?" San asked, his voice tinged with concern. 

You nodded weakly, the dizziness making it hard to focus on anything. "Yeah, it's just... everything is spinning," you managed to whisper, clutching onto him. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as San's presence provided a comforting anchor. The room seemed to tilt and spin, but his calming voice and gentle touch helped you stay grounded. "I'm sorry, San," you murmured, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. 

San shook his head, his expression filled with love and reassurance. "Don't apologize, my love. You can't control this, and I'm here to help you through it," he murmured softly. "I will keep you safe," he whispered, his voice filled with unwavering determination and love. "Just rest," he murmured softly. "I'll be right here with you." You nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. San's hand continued to trace soothing patterns on your back, his touch gentle and reassuring. Gradually, your breathing steadied, and you found yourself relaxing into his embrace. 

As you drifted in and out of sleep, you could feel San's steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, a rhythm that grounded you. Hours passed in a blur of half-conscious moments and deep, dreamless sleep. Every time you stirred, San was there, his presence a steady source of comfort and love. You could feel his fingers brushing through your hair, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your head. He held you through the worst of it, never once leaving your side. 

When you finally woke, the pain had dulled to a manageable throb, and the nausea had receded enough for you to sit up slightly. San was still there, his eyes filled with concern and relief as he saw you stir. 

"Hey," he said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he looked at you with concern. "How are you feeling?" 

You took a deep breath, assessing your condition and trying to gather your thoughts. "A bit better," you admitted, your voice still weak but more stable than before. The remnants of fatigue lingered, but you felt a small spark of improvement. 

"I'm glad to hear that," San replied, his smile growing a bit wider with relief. "Do you think you can eat something light? Maybe some broth or a bit of toast?" 

You nodded slowly, appreciating his care and the gentle way he always seemed to know what you needed. "I think I could try," you said, feeling a bit more hopeful at the thought of eating something. 

"Alright, let me order something, hm?" San said, giving you a reassuring smile as he gently helped you sit up against the pillows, adjusting them to make sure you were comfortable. 

"Thank you, Sannie," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unending support and the way he always put your well-being first. 

San smiled warmly, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. "Anything for you, my love," he said, placing a soft kiss on your lips, his touch gentle and comforting. As he reached for his phone to place the order, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude and love for having someone like San by your side, through thick and thin. 

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[seventhcallisto]

LOVE ON SKIN

c.seungcheol. idol!boyfriend!cheol. Idol!f!reader. Mdni. soft smut. unprotected. Part of I-dol

Although the two of you have been inseparable for years, an accident that leaves you bed-bound for almost a month wounds up weighing on cheols consciousness when you two begin talking about it. Which leads to a night of confessions and soft touches.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You can't keep your hands to yourself. He can't, either. You've been on him as soon as you could be on stage - actually, he's been on you. Walking you across the stage and lending a helping hand if you seem to struggle with your balance.

You hate it. You should hate being helped and feeling like a weak girl. But it's cheol. You love cheol too much to feel upset about how his soft hands caress your elbow and guiding your hip in the right direction. Even when it could possibly get you two in trouble. He's going out of his way to help you in all the proper places, as politely as he can. Despite when you tell him you can do it yourself, stubbornly, he's still by your side.

Being the second eldest in the group takes it tolls on your health, but it seem cheol can stomach it all, can have all of it weigh on his back without flinching. You admire him for it, you always have. You love the leader, you love him so much it hurts to see the painful way he look in your eyes when you hiss in discomfort.

You tried to pretend the way your hip shifts on the bed doesn't hurt. That the performance didn't take its toll on you. You said you were fine, that you could do it. And maybe, yeah, you're equally as stubborn as cheol, but it's because you miss it. Miss performing. Miss the stage. Miss the fans. Miss your group. Miss your boyfriend.

"Baby, let me help" seungcheol softly reaches for your ankle, bending down on his knee to pull your shoes off. You thank him with quiet words, still attempting to lift your leg yourself to help. Cheol clicks his tongue, on the verge of chastising you for moving. He decides against it with a sigh.

"Do you remember when we were trainees, how we'd have to share our food?" You quietly talk, and like always, cheol hums to tell you he's listening, even as he focuses on untying your stubborn shoes.

"We went hungry most of the time cause of the diets" you continue, quietly. "I should of- I dunno, snuck some food. Maybe my bones wouldn't be as breakable as they were- as they are now." you chuckle as if its an inside joke. To kill the tension. Your hands fiddling in your lap. Cheol pauses for a second, head tilting up.

His lips curve into frown, his hands softly encasing your ankles, he rubs soothingly, helping your aching body. "Don't blame yourself." He whispers. Your eyebrows furrow in worry. "I-. It's just-" he cuts you off. "It wouldn't have happened at all if someone had double checked the safety."

he takes a harsh breath in, tossing your shoes to the side, his palms run over his jeans on his knees. "It looked worse than it was, but.." cheol glances to your hip, theres pain and guilt in his eyes as he stares. "It doesn't matter, atleast you're okay now." He adverts his eyes, pushing himself to stand up.

"Cheol?" Your hand on his wrist has him pausing, a short glance over his shoulder. He stills in your sight, eyes tired from working all day. Tired from the pain he sees you in. You knaw on your bottom lip.

"I'm sorry it was you who found me" your lip trembles, finally able to voice what you really wanted to. To get him to not feel guilty for your own doing. "I'm the one who stepped on the platform, and i- I'm the one who should have been careful" your voice cracks. You always took practice way too seriously, always checking the aquitment and helping where you were needed.

Like some type of guinea pig, you hung out on platforms and tall stages, as if you'd never get hurt. So when you told cheol you'll be testing things out for fun, he advised you not too. Like he had always done. But he really couldn't control you. No one could. When you stepped up and signaled for the crew to start lifting the stage, just as you were halfway- the tiniest thing- completely snapped, sending you flying forward into the stage beneath you. Almost two stories high.

You were fragile, sadly, from the amount of overworking you've done for years and the dieting you kept up with. So there wasn't much to cushion your fall except skin and bones. The first person you saw when you faded back into consciousness was no other than seungcheol. Stage lights around him like a halo when he called your name in a panic, fear lingering every part of his body, of his soul.

You could see it seep from his bones and consume him, just as he way pulled away to give you some space. No other figures face made sense, no matter how hard you tried. You could only see cheol.

"What?" Seungcheol wheezes out, his heavy eyebrows setting into an upset churn on his handsome face. "Y/n. Don't say that. Please don't say that." He bends down to take the seat next to you, careful of dipping the bed down too much.

"Don't say that ever. If i- if I wasn't there. It could have been worse" he trembles in your gasp, pulling your hand into his palm. "I told the crew to take the scale slow, I know- I knew you loved the heights and rising on the stage, you told me that before, remember?" You nod, soundless under his gaze.

"If I hadn't told them to take it slow, you'd be worse.. you could be dead." he shakes his head. "I don't want you to feel like you have to owe me, I just wanted to tell you. I love you, i don't want to see you like that. like this. ever again. I don't want to think about loosing you." Cheols head falls on your interlocked hands as he attempts to regain his breath. You lean your head onto his shoulder over his grey hoode, just to feel closer to him.

You haven't had time together at all, with awkward glances and silence ringing throughout every interaction. It was starting to feel like you did die from the grief drowning under cheols fingertips and trembling breathing whenever he would hold you. Too delicate. As if you were already a ghost.

His hands holding your own are firm, yet still trembling with unease. His whole body shakes with it. Only ever in your presence have you seen cheol shake like this. "Will you hold me? Please?" Quietly, You whisper. And he heads your call. His strong arms wrapping to interlock around your ribs, his hands flush against your clothed back when he pushes your head into his neck.

His palms smooth over you. Telling himself you're there, that you're alive and in his arms, telling you he's there. His head falls over your own, his chin bumping against your head when he gulps. You wrap yourself around him, cling more like. Getting as close to him as you can from the angle. "I love you, cheol" You remind him with a sorrowful mumble. "I'm not going anywhere."

Cheol pulls his head down to plant a heartfelt kiss on your lips, slow and consuming as he leans heavily into it. His lips are plump from moisturizer, his palms are heavy against your cheeks when he pulls you closer. Swallowing your quiet gasps with his own breathy sighs. Your hand skims over his sweatpants, reaching for the drawstring.

You're too eager to have cheol in you. You haven't touched in weeks. You could hardly care for foreplay, you miss being close to him.

He pushes your hand aside to strip his hoodie and shirt off in one go, leaning over your body so you're pressed into the mattress under him. "How're you feeling baby?" it's the cue to explain to him what you want exactly. When you both are too tired to tease each other. You wiggle when he presses his hot mouth against your neck, trailing kisses down your skin.

"Just want you cheol, need you inside me, no prep, no foreplay" you demand with prying hands, clawing your way under your own shirt to paw it off. He helps you along, gentle compared to your own hands. And when it's finally off, he stops and stares. Ears pink but that sorrowful look on his face again.

You're littered in bruises, deep and purple and contrasting against your skin, no matter what shade you are, there is no hiding how the bruises affect your body. Staining your skin in splotches, from around your waist, to your arms, along your shoulder, and your elbows, everywhere. The ones on your arms are clearing up, but the deeper ones on your lower body are evidence of a terrible trauma to your blood vessels.

The cogs move in cheols head, he kisses what he can, the bruises on your shoulder, on your hips, on your elbows. The worse of them all being on your ribs, his lips leave a delicate trail to not irritate your skin with pressure, his eyes pulled closed as he soaks your warmth in. His heavy hands caress over your neglected breasts, paying the nubs attention with a swipe of his thumb.

You sigh against his every touch, missing the way he feels against you. His lower abdomen above your own, with just a swoop of your leg, your pulling the rest of him down onto you.

Seungcheol stops his quick decent with his arms caging against your head. His eyebrows furrow, coming face to face with you now. "Inside please" you remind him again, a desperate tone to your voice. The beautiful and absolutely breathtaking man blinks down at you, eyes growing shy with a smile.

His hand trails down, pulling your hips to straddle his, adjusting comfortably when he pulls the rest of your clothes off. He slips out of his just as eagerly, only gone for a second before he's hoisting you up the bed quickly and gently.

His tip prods your entrance after a couple of swipes through your folds, slicking himself up with your own juices and his precum. He groans quietly, mouth falling slack from the feeling.

You always forget he's big, always forget you need atleast some type of prep beforehand. Your eyes stutter shut and thighs squeeze around his hips when he attempts to push the head of his cock in. "Baby- y/n- s'not gonna fit baby" he hisses, prodding himself through the tight band of your cunt.

You groan at the stretch. He stills abruptly, your eyes widen open, watching cheols concerned face beckon you to speak. "Don't stop! Please, keep going cheolie" you whimper, grabbing for his shoulder to bring him back over you again.

He bites into your shoulder to keep from just humping himself into you, he pushes as much as he can, as slowly as he can. Listening for your uncomfortable cues. You're so hot and warm and cheol hasn't touched himself in weeks, too caught up in stress.

Cheols fingers pinch your clit between the digits, circling them with your bud in the middle. You moan quietly, the feeling almost forgotten. "loosen up baby" he coos into your ear, sighing against your skin as he fits another inch in. "There you go, Just like that, just needs a little tlc huh?" he chuckles against your skin, groaning softly when he rocks his hips forward to slip into you some more.

Your slick pools around his length from his words, guiding him in easier. He sinks in with slow grinds, his hips stuttering every once in a while. You whimper at the sting, it leaves tingles down your spine. "Missed you so much cheol" you whimper with a moan "needed you so bad" he hums against your skin. Lingered kisses against your throat when he pulls your thigh to meet his own hip, trying to pull you onto him further.

"I know baby, needed you just as much, promise" he bottoms out with one last grind of his hips forward. You sputter, jaw falling away. He knocks the breath out of you in the best way. "Oh fuck" he swallows his grunts with his mouth against your sweaty skin.

With only a few seconds of adjusting, you're clenching around him wildly. His hips grind against yours smoothly with small jolts. Everytime he bumps your clit, you moan. It encourages him on, gentle compared to how he usually is when you two have sex.

The sweetness of passionate sex in the late night in your hotel room has your mind foggy, as if you're dreaming, the only light to cast any type of glow is the one on the bedside table, it blurs and bumps with every thrust from seungcheol, his breathing grounding you to the moment with him. His hips working the magic, the only guy who could make you unravel within a couple of minutes.

The sweetest torture is his pace, it's enough to have you peaking, lifting your own hips to meet his as you feel yourself grind closer to that aching high you haven't had in forever. Cheols hands push you back down by your thighs, his head lifting up from your shoulder to watch the way you suck him in. His breath fans against your chest.

Quiet groans of approval fall off his tongue, and suddenly he's pistoning at the new angle he moved his hips. You quiver, hips trying to lift from the bed. "There cheol! Right there- 'm gonna cum" you let go with a whimper, thighs shaking in seungcheols grasp, your eyes clenching closed.

The dark haired guy curses under his breath, hips griding to push you further and further, to reach his high with you as soon as he can. He bottoms out completely before spilling along your walls and womb, digging his head back into your neck along with shuddered gasps.

His thrusts are sloppy, finishing himself off with a few extra ruts of his hips, his base growing a string of mixtures that leaves him sticky, he stills when you begin to press your palm to his hip. Overstimulated with his movements. He presses soft kisses to your temple, breathing in the scent of your sweaty skin.

Seungcheols skin is dewy with a shine in the dim light, his hair is only the slightest bit damp. His stamina is amazing, libido just as much. But you know it took everything in cheol to cum with you no matter how overstimulated he's left you from hours in the night. You always come first, in every way possible to him. He's told you before.

His lashes softly caress your delicate neck, his body sinking half on you and half on the bed in the afterglow. You pepper his shoulder with soft pecks, hand rubbing along his bicep as you take heavy breaths into your lungs.

He shuffles to pull out, kissing your belly before he does so. He slips out without much tension, palming your knee comfortably as he goes.

He picks himself up to grab you both a towel from the bathroom around the corner, you watch him slip his sweats back on. He's gentle, different this time, like he knows he can't break you, but he knows you still hurt easily.

You mumble a thank you when he pulls himself over you, shuffling you into his large shirt. He kisses you softly. "You're my favorite person in the world" you mumble sleepily, hand threading through his hair. He hums against your skin, draping you over his side.

"Yeah?" He chuckles, smile pulling wide on his cheeks. "And you're mine."

[anony-man]

So sorry the ask is dark 😭 screenshotted it at night and didn’t realize lol. On a side note, this drabble features my beloved Trailbreaker/Hound/Mirage… love them. I hope you enjoy!

Chubformers drabble #126!

Characters: Trailbreaker (& Hound & Mirage - G1)

Word count: 1.1k

The clink of his glass against the table was hardly audible over the sounds of his team around him, and Trailbreaker was thankful for it. Having exhausted from simply dragging his aft out of bed to join them in the mess hall, a free excuse to fill up on some of the good stuff was not an offer he passed up on. Still, every little blessing had its downsides, and he wasn’t free from the guilt that followed.

He had done no more than the average recruit’s work in a day, but Primus, if felt like he’d just lost years worth of his life in a few hours. The aftermath of a raging disease that had ravaged dozens of bots just like him still lingered, and would continue to linger for the rest of his days—that he knew for a fact. Even so, Trailbreaker could never seem to shake the dead weight that weighed him down in his spark.

Physically, he was exhausted, but mentally? He was a mess.

There was a near permanent curve to his belly that he often found himself feeling up whenever he was out of sight. A foggy processor and the constant lag in his systems were all to blame on that damned disease he’d been exposed to, and he knew that this was nothing more than an extension of the unfortunate side effects. He couldn’t help the fact that his frame craved energon, so much energon, to a point of bordering starvation at any given moment. It was out of his control, and the weight he packed on was hardly something to feel ashamed of.

Add all of that to the list of things he should make self-deprecating jokes about, Trailbreaker thought to himself. His servo was shaky as he lifted his glass to his lips and drained it all in one go.

He shouldn’t have come out here for this. The engex was always nice—he liked the way it soothed his guilt-ridden professor. It was on the house, too, even for a mech as selfish and indulgent as him. The company wasn’t bad either, when he found himself stuck chatting with the right bots, but it only took one wrong turn before he was spiraling into another loathsome game of beating himself up with chortles and teasing.

He shouldn’t have come out of his room, but he did, and now he was going to have to make the most of it. The walk back to his berthroom would drain him of energy pretty fast, anyways.

“What’s this?” he heard a mech say from behind. “Drinkin’ all by your lonesome over here?”

Trailbreaker didn’t need to turn around to see that great big smile and even greater and bigger frame staring down at him. It was hard getting himself up out of a slump when he’d already fallen so deep, but even harder when there were good friends like Hound to help him back up again.

“Thought you and that pretty little mech had plans for tonight,” Trailbreaker said as he pushed his empty glass aside, making room for Hound to sit across from him. “Don’t tell me he got cold pedes.”

Hound shook his helm. “Nah. Opposite, actually. Dunno what all he meant, but he was sayin’ something about another pretty mech looking sad in the corner here.”

Trailbreaker hid the flush of his cheeks behind a sip of his drink, only to be reminded that he had finished it off before Hound came wandering over to keep him company. He set it down hard, and subsequently winced at the sound of glass ringing out against the cold metal table.

“I’m alright, Hound,” he said, his free servo still rubbing over the swell of his belly beneath the table. “You two go have your fun. Maybe later I’ll catch up and join in.”

He hardly believed it for himself, but he’d do anything to convince Hound (and Mirage, apparently, who was checking up on him from a distance) that his little hide away from the fun and enjoy the night by drinking himself into oblivion was intentional. He was exhausted, after all, and though he’d already fueled up with enough energon to satisfy three bots or more, he still felt the gnawing pain of hunger in the pit of his tanks.

He was too slow to keep up, and too slow to refuel properly. Was there anything he could do, aside from inhibit the longterm livelihood of the jovial mechs partying around him?

Hound was silent for a moment. He stared off into the room, his optics lingering on the various forms of drinking, dancing, and talking bots that swung this way and that.

“Mirage got some of the good stuff again,” he eventually said, scratching his chin as he eyed the empty glass in Trailbreaker’s servos. “The stuff you like.”

“Ain’t that the pricy slag he keeps buying?” Trailbreaker said. “I thought I told you guys not to—“

“He likes it,” Hound cut in with a shrug. “I do, too.”

And so did Trailbreaker, but that went without saying. The two knew him far too well, that was for sure.

“I won’t push you if you’re not feeling it,” his companion continued. “But it oughta be better than sitting around drinking cheap stuff that bubbles in your tanks, dontcha think?”

It would be nice. There wasn’t much that could satisfy his cravings these days, but whatever miracles Mirage pulled seemed to do the trick. Just the thought of that sweet, warm energon trickling down his intake as he sat between the two, his belly swollen with fuel and feeling full for the first time in days… it was impossible to pass up. The best part? They wanted it just as much as he did.

Trailbreaker’s spark still clenched with guilt at the thought of hijacking a specially planned moment between his two companions, but something about the twinkle in Hound’s optics told him this had been the plan from the start. Mirage didn’t buy that special slag for nothing, that was after all.

“You don’t think he’d mind?” Trailbreaker pressed, having already stood up from his chair. “I mean, I ain’t gonna stop you two from having fun, am I?”

“What Mirage says goes,” Hound said. “And I’m tellin’ you, Trailbreaker. He’s been begging me to come get you to join.”

He still had his doubts, as he always did. You couldn’t demand the most fuel out of the whole Autobot faction without garnering a name for yourself, after all. Hound was insistent, though, and from the sounds of it, so was Mirage. It felt nice, being wanted, and being cared for. For once, his needs weren’t seen as a liability, but as a trait that they could all enjoy. Who was he to pass up on that?

“You got me,” he said, his growing smile rivaling Hound’s own. “Now where’s that mech waiting for us this time?”

[mouwrites]

HEY!! congrats on 300, couldn't deserve it more dear!! I'd love to request miles morales with prompt 6!! really angsty if you can, maybe the reader is burnt out since that's what I'm facing and things that are relatable in writing are always intriguing to me,, anyways!! have fun :33

YAAH thank you so much!! I hope this turned out okay, my darling!! <3

Word count: 1.3k

ASTV - 6. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here.” (Miles) (300 follower event)

You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the screen before you. You told yourself that you’d finish this project; you had to. Yet your fingers just weighed heavily on the keys, still as stones.

There were no thoughts in your brain. You couldn’t muster a single coherent idea, let alone a motivating phrase to get yourself going. The only thing you were aware of was the guilt in your stomach at your lack of productivity, and the heavy feeling in your chest that was causing that lack of productivity. The very thought of doing anything at all made the weight heavier, which made the guilt worse. You cycled through this reaction a few times before dropping your head into your hands in pure exasperation.

As if you weren’t already upset enough, you heard a knock at your door.

“What?” You snapped, but you were so drained that it came out without the edge you wanted. Great, you thought. I can’t even be mad properly.

“Someone’s here for you.”

This day just kept getting worse. You’d completely forgotten that you invited Miles over earlier that day. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him, but you had work to do; work that you didn’t even have the energy to complete. If you didn’t have energy to do something important, how were you supposed to muster energy to entertain a guest?

You gritted your teeth. “Send him in,” you said, going against every instinct telling you to cancel your hangout.

A few seconds later, your door opened, and Miles greeted you cheerily.

“Hey, Y/n! What’cha up… to…” His speech slowed as he took in your appearance, and you realized that you probably looked every bit as exhausted as you were. You hadn’t been sleeping much recently, for one. That combined with your especially terrible posture clued him in enough that he could guess the rest.

He looked around your room, and you followed his gaze, cringing at the state of your bedroom. You hadn’t had the time to clean it for a long time, and frankly it was rather embarrassing. You remembered telling yourself that you’d clean it before Miles came over today, but that was a fleeting promise atop the mountain of tasks that you’d already served yourself, and you’d forgotten it as soon as you made it.

“Sorry.” You managed an awkward laugh. “It usually isn’t this messy, I swear.”

“I know,” Miles said warily. He had, in fact, seen your room many times before, and he knew that this was not its typical state.

When his eyes landed on you again, there was suspicion in his expression. “Uh, what are you working on?” He gestured vaguely at your computer.

You glanced at it, suddenly feeling the guilt and exhaustion all over again. You couldn’t stop your face from scrunching and your shoulders from slouching, nor could you hide your despair over this.

“Well, I’m supposed to be finishing this project I’m working on, but…” you huffed in annoyance. “I can’t! I just can’t do this anymore!”

Miles blinked at your outburst, but stayed quiet while you vented. You spilled it all, taking his silence and attentive eyes as signs to go on.

School, projects, homework, socializing—it was just too much. Even sleeping and hydrating yourself had become weighty burdens. And you were expected to keep it all up, all alone.

“That’s not true,” Miles interjected at last.

You shot him a look, but you hadn’t intended for it to be so malicious. You weren’t angry at him, you were angry at… well, everything else in your life right now. He understood that, and you knew he did, so you didn’t worry about him taking the glare too personally.

“That last bit you said; the bit about being alone. It’s not true,” he reiterated, bringing a hand to pat his chest. “I’m here for you.”

You wanted to smile and thank him, but your eyes closed and a long breath came out instead. You rested your temple on your palm, leaning on the back of your chair. You heard the sound of your laptop being shut, and felt Miles’ lips on the top of your head a second later.

“How much have you slept?”

“In what time frame?” You opened one eye partially, looking up at Miles as he stood over you. He frowned at your response, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Come on, let’s get away from the desk for a minute.”

You somehow mustered the energy to stand, and found yourself immediately enveloped in Miles’ arms. He held you tightly, swaying gently from side to side.

“You shouldn’t be working yourself so hard,” he fretted, rubbing your back slowly. “I hate what it does to you.”

“Me too,” you chuckled weakly, bringing your arms around him as best you could. “But I have…” You buried your face in Miles’ shoulder, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“It can wait.”

“But—”

“It can wait, Y/n.”

You frowned, struggling to suppress that guilt that never seemed to go away.

“Just an hour,” Miles proposed, pulling away to look you in the eye.

“For what?”

In response, Miles smiled mischievously, lifting you up and flopping backward onto your mattress, you landing atop him. You both let out an oof, giggling a little before settling comfortably among the blankets. “Power nap,” Miles beamed, yawning. “I need one, too.”

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t object to this. Your body melted, your eyes closed, and a fuzzy feeling numbed all else.

You lingered in an obscure state somewhere between sleep and waking for a while before your thoughts came back to haunt you.

“It’s been long enough,” you slurred, clearly not believing it yourself and waiting for Miles to protest.

As expected, he came through with a sleepy “No.”

He took a deep breath, bringing himself to the waking world. “I’m not going to let you keep doing this to yourself.”

“But I really do have work to do.”

Miles hummed discontentedly. “Okay, let’s make a deal. I’ll let you get up and do your stuff if you promise to take breaks.”

You nodded a little, already sending anticipatory glances to your desk and practicing ignoring the exhaustion.

“Nah, wait—I got a better idea.”

“What?”

“I think I’ll stick around a while longer.” Before you could say anything, he went on. “I’m not gonna distract you or anything. I’ll just be over here,” he patted your pillow with a sneaky smile that you couldn’t see but could hear just fine.

At last he unraveled his arms from around you, letting you get up whenever you wanted. But suddenly you weren’t so motivated. You were staring at your desk, frowning as the lack of motivation held you down.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s okay, too.”

“But I should, shouldn’t I?”

“You don’t have to do anything. Especially if you’re not feeling up to it.”

Your eyes went to your hands, which began to fidget anxiously atop your stomach. “What should I do?” You whispered, more to yourself than anything.

Miles’ hands engulfed yours. “I trust you to choose for yourself.” He brushed a thumb over your knuckles gently. “Just know that… whatever happens, I’ll be here.”

You blinked sluggishly, completely entranced by his soft touches. “I think I’ll rest for a while.”

“Okay,” Miles said, trying to sound cool but unable to keep the overwhelming relief from his voice.

You smiled bemusedly, bringing his hands to your mouth to kiss his knuckles. “Thank you, Miles.”

You fell into a comfortable silence. For the first time in a while you truly felt the quiet, your mind giving its constant reminders and promises a rest. The silence felt nice in your ears, and the mental clearness was elevating. You felt the weight in your stomach float away, dragging the guilt with it, and you were left only with the weight of your exhausted limbs, which found themselves cradled in loving arms.

You breathed deep, letting all else fade into dreams.

Thank you so much for taking part in this event!! I had some fun with this one! :D And thank you for reading, take care you lovely souls <33

(divider by saradika)

[drchenquill]

Rewrite Tag~

Thanks @cssnder for this tag! So, this is a first for me, so I can't gurantee that it came out well. Rewriting things was never my forte, but here goes nothing:

My line: It is atrocious — unthinkable even — to think that I could have intervened at any moment, stopped everything, avoided disaster and, at the same time, spared myself ten years of tears and rumination. It is even more atrocious to think that I never did. I suppose that, at the time, I thought it was none of my business. But now, as I look back on those days a decade later, I come to realise that perhaps it was, and I had missed many opportunities to put an end to this. My rewrite: I could have done it. I could have stopped it. The sickening feeling that comes over me at the thought that I could have prevented all this will always be with me and haunt me. I would have been spared so much. But I was different back then, I had the idea that it wasn't my business, that it wasn't my concern. But even after that tearful decade, that one thought remains. That one thought that weighs me down and won't let go until I'm suffocating with guilt: I could have put an end to it.

Your line will be: Life can be a bitch. Life can squeeze you in its arms and either make you feel warmth or burn you in its fire. It's not easy for everyone, but I had never considered such a thing because my life was great. There were people who went through life with scars that instead of healing, got deeper. You couldn't get rid of or cover these scars and unfortunately life helped you to never forget them.

I hope you'll have fun being creative!!! I'll tag @writingsfromspace, @gwens-fiction, @agirlandherquill, @kaylinalexanderbooks and the rest of you wonderful writers~

[kittsu-and-company]

In Broad Daylight.

// Aka writing thing teehee

Trigger Warning(s): Manipulation

-

Kittsu felt glued to her spot in that moment, watching the man who had been nothing more than a suspicious, reoccurring character, sob by the fountain. She watched from afar as Achlys hid his face in his hands, Espeon by his side, clearly attempting to comfort its trainer. She wanted to approach, ask if he was okay but… was it really safe?

He has done nothing but help her so far, yet the phrase “wolf in sheep’s” clothing jumped to her mind for a fleeting second, something that would’ve caused Kittsu to turn tail and leave in any other situation. But he’s crying, something was wrong! The overcast day boasted sunbeams peeking through damp gray clouds, shining light upon various buildings like a natural spotlight.

Nobody would be stupid enough to hurt someone in such a public place, in the middle of the day no less? And she should have more faith in her ability to keep herself safe, anyway. She could take care of herself, and she knows her limits.

Kittsu cautiously approached the still sobbing man, trying to make herself seem more approachable than she felt. Achlys’ Espeon, oh what was its name, watched her approach with a blank expression, before sauntering forward to rub its head against her leg. She felt like she needed to sneak while approaching the man in front of her, though she didn’t try to stop the Espeon’s shattering of her attempt of stealth.

Achlys didn’t look up even when she stopped just a few feet in front of him, awkwardly thumbing the occupied Luxury ball in her pocket in case anything went south. She bit her lip as he continued to cry, still trying to find her words.

“…Excuse me?” The man suddenly went dead silent, shit, was that a bad move? “Are you okay..? Achlys?” She felt her nails dig into the hand still hidden in her pocket, before withdrawing both of them into a more friendly position. “I’m uh- I’m sorry if I’m bothering you-“

“No, no… hello.” Achlys raised his head to meet Kittsu’s nervous gaze, trying to wipe tears from his eyes still. “What brings you here, kid?”

Kittsu pauses for a second to breath, why was she so nervous? He’s just a poor guy having a rough day from what she sees right now, why does she still feel alarms going off in her head? “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay… do you need anything? Can I ask what’s wrong?” Achlys stares at her for a beat too long, the silence broken by nothing but mindless chatter of nearby Fletchling.

“It’s nothing… my coworker just told me about someone posting about me online. Happened a lot when I was a kid, bullied had a lot of fun with it.” Oh. Kittsu’s apprehension immediately drowned in pooling guilt at those words, stomach dropping straight to the floor by weights of shame. “It’s hard. That’s why I don’t go on social media, because I had a friend get doxxed from something similar. They had to move away, and I never saw them again.” Kittsu wanted to be sick.

“I-I’m sorry… is there- uh- anything I could do to help..?” She fought tears weighed by guilt pricking at her eyes, Arceus she was too high strung for this right now. “Well, I was going to go buy food for Day, but the store is going to close soon and I don’t want to go alone.”

Well Arceus, if that wasn’t suspicious Kittsu didn’t know what would be. But she’s clearly already caused so much pain- she’s wrecked Sprite’s family and Coral’s nerves, and she doesn’t want to hurt anyone else. Sun peeking through the clouds now fleeing for the horizon shine glowing lights that bounce brilliantly off of the fountain’s bubbling water. He’d be stupid to do anything in broad daylight. The Espeon, day rubs against her legs once more.

Kittsu holds out her hand, and notes how the weight of Ember’s pokeball sat in her pocket; ready.

[unrealization]

[So, I think I owe an update. I've been a tad more active for the last few days, and I feel good about that. I've cleared out most of my inbox, but I still owe a lot of drafts which I am working on. IRL issues are kind of eating away at me lately and I kind of need this as a distraction from that. So why have I been away so much and for so long? I'll explain under the cut, but please keep in mind its a bit of my own personal psychosis that you shouldn't burden yourself with. Its my issue, first and foremost.]

[I've noticed an issue with myself when it comes to engaging with the RPC in a healthy way. As I've stated in my rules page, I am ADHD and so my interest can come in waves for many things. Sometimes I want to spend all day writing, sometimes I can't stand to put the metaphorical pen to paper for weeks at a time. I feel like that's not all that unusual. The potentially unhealthy part comes after that interest begins to return. I start to get really anxious that when I do come back; no one will care. I'm afraid I'll be rejected. This leads me to avoid the bad feeling and not actually come back. Then, I spiral, and I'm away for longer and longer.

If I owe you a reply and you've been waiting for it for a long time, I am not posting this to guilt you into continuing something you're no longer interested in. This is entirely on me, and I am not your responsibility. My feelings aren't anyone's responsibility but mine.

I'm just going to try my best and try to get back in the saddle. RP is supposed to be fun, and I'm just not going to allow myself to sweat it anymore.

As I stated at the beginning IRL stuff is really weighing on me these days so I can't promise to be SUPER active, but I'll be around wherever I can. I'm going to work my way through my current drafts and reply to whatever I can. If I reply to you and you're looking to drop the thread, please let me know. Actually, if you want to talk to me at all, please send me a DM or an ask, and I'll respond as soon as I can. Especially if you're one of my current RP partners.]

[angelic-writer]

Whumpcember Day 3 - Hypothermia

CW: Near-drowning, hypothermia

Mark had no idea what just happened. One minute, he was on the ice, skating with his friends and having fun. Cesar might have thrown a snowball or two at him. Next thing he knew, he was in the water, the ice having cracked underneath his feet. The shock of the cold took him by surprise, not even giving him a chance to breathe. He thrashed around, trying to find the hole, but his wet clothes weighed him down. He was sinking further and further, dark spots beginning to appear in his vision.

Cold water sent spikes of pain in his chest as it went into his lungs. Everything hurt. His eyes, his skin... Soon, that pain turned to numbness. How did he get himself in this situation? This was supposed to be a fun day for everyone! Why didn't he listen when Cesar yelled at him to stop? When the ice began to crack?

He couldn't think anymore. Darkness had already overtaken him, basking in its cold embrace.

------

"One, two, three, four, five- C'mon, Mark!"

Cesar continued to pump his chest, the others watching on in horror. He was completely soaked and shivering, having dived in to save his friend. When he got him out, he was completely limp and cold as ice. He hoped he wasn't too late. If he was, he didn't know what he would do with himself. He couldn't live with the guilt, the knowledge of how he didn't stop him in time.

He won't give up on him. He can't.

After a few minutes of CPR, Mark suddenly spasmed as he coughed up the freezing lake water. He and Sean immediately turned him to his side, the younger man hacking and wheezing as Cesar rubbed his back. "Hey hey hey, buddy, you're okay. It's okay. You're fine. We got you." He said, trying to keep his speech steady through his chattering teeth.

Mark softy groaned as he groggily opened his eyes. A quick glance at him showed that he was breathing, but he wasn't shivering. Shit...

"Ce.... C..."

"Shh, don't talk. We're gonna get you someplace warm." His mind is screaming at him to get him to the hospital, but what if he loses consciousness and never wakes up? He can't take that chance. "Micah, help me lift him up. Be careful!"

Micah nodded and helped lifted Mark up, being careful not to jostle him too much. His father's words repeated in his head. "Be gentle with them. Too much movement may cause their heart to stop. We don't want them to become a sack of potatoes."

Cesar held him in his arms and carried him to the car, everyone else following suit. They had all taken off their ice skates and put on their winter boots. Mark however still had his skates on so Cesar was being extra careful so it wouldn't cut anyone. With the gentle care of a mother handling her baby, he climbed into the back seat with him, wasting no time wrapping a blanket around the two of them. Mark groaned and nestled his face in the warm fabric. Checking his breathing showed that it was slow and shallow. His pulse was also weak. "Stay with me, Mark. We'll get you inside soon. Stay with me." He whispered.

Everyone else got in the car, Micah wasting no time turning on the heater. The car began to fill with warm air as they drove off to Cesar's house. The car shook a little, causing him to shout. "Careful! Don't jostle him!"

"Sorry! Sorry!"

He continued to monitor him as they drove. Mark snuggled his cheek into his friend's chest. He seemed to have regained consciousness a bit. "W-Where..."

"I'm taking you to my house. We're gonna warm you up, okay? You're gonna be okay."

"Mmm... Th'nks...."

They finally arrived at his house, the Christmas lights a beacon of light in the darkening sky. Snow had begun to fall in fat flakes. It would've been a pretty sight if his best friend wasn't wrapped in a blanket like baby Jesus.

Freezing.... About to die...

Julia was the first one to get out of the car and open the door so Cesar could get out. Micah scooped Mark up and carried him to the house. They were already at the door when his mother opened up.

"Cesar?! What happened?!"

"No time! Help me get him inside!"

Everyone wasted no time getting Mark to Cesar's room. Camila got his ice skates off while Sean ran into the kitchen for something sharp. "Do you have something to cut his clothes off with?" He called out from the hallway.

"I have some scissors. They should be in the drawer under the sink." Camila called back.

Cesar kept an eye on Mark while Julia rummaged around in the closet to find some blankets. He squeezed his hand tightly, hoping that his body doesn't give out on him. Jesus, he's so cold... His face was extremely pale, his eyes had sunken through and his lips were tinted with blue. However, he still showed signs of life. He watched his eyelids flutter, trying his best to stay awake.

Soon enough, Julia had fluffy blankets in her arms and passed them over to the others. At the same time, Sean came back into the room with a pair of large scissors. Cesar grabbed them and started muttering apologies as he started to cut his clothes off.

Cutting away his clothes like this felt like an invasion of privacy, but he had to do this to warm him up. He'll apologize to him later for this. Micah had ran off, presumably to find some hot compresses. His mother took over for him when he got his shirt off. He had to look away as the rest of his clothing was being removed. He hadn't realized he had started crying. As fast as they were off, Mark was wrapped up in blankets. He was like a small child, swaddled up after being fed. That should be enough to warm him for now.

Cesar shivered and rubbed his arms. How long had he been in those wet clothes? Camila put her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, honey. We'll keep an eye on him. You just go and change. You're freezing."

He slowly nodded and went to the bathroom, taking some fresh clothes with him. Once he shut the door, his emotions began to boil over. He began to sob as he sank to the floor. He almost lost Mark today. He almost lost his friend today...

I'm sorry, Mark... I should've done more for you...

He was reduced to a shivering, crying mess. How long was Mark in the water for? Well, he got him back fast, but what if something happened to him again while he was gone? What if his heart stops again? All these questions did little to quell his anxiety.

He just needs to trust the others, especially his mom. They know what they're doing. They'll take care of him. But still... His mind was swirling, Mark's unconscious face imprinted in his mind.

He took off his wet clothes, replacing them with a big sweater and sweatpants. The sweater had a crude sewing of Rudolph the red nosed reindeer. Mark thought it was funny when he found him wearing it to school one time.

Mark, please... Just wake up...

He walked back to his room and sat next to his mother. "Mom, how is he?"

"We got the hot compresses on him. We made sure not to put any on his arm and legs."

He slowly nodded. 'Heat applied to the arms and legs forces cold blood back to the heart, lungs and brain, causing the core body temperature to drop.'

I should've been there. I should've been there for him. I should've been there.

Camila rubbed his back. "It'll be okay, sweetie. We've done everything we could. We'll just wait for him to wake up."

Why didn't you call an ambulance?

An ambulance is too far away. We live a goods away from town. It would've been too late.

You should do it if his condition gets worse.

"It.... T-This is all my fault. I tried to stop him, but the ice just g-gave way."

"Hey, honey. You did the right thing. You should be proud."

"I don't want to lose him! I don't want to!!"

His mother hugged him. "Hey, you won't. He's gonna be okay. We'll make sure of it."

Cesar shook, hugging her back just as tightly. He can't lose him. He can't lose his lifeline. His angel.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. Camila wrapped a blanket around him. "Here you go. You call us if anything changes, okay?"

He nodded and she was out of the room, leaving him and Mark alone. He rested his head on top of the bundled up teen, hearing him emit soft groans. He couldn't hear his heartbeat from the fabric, but it must've been struggling to keep itself alive.

He hoped they didn't move him too much. He hoped nothing went wrong. Don't go. Don't leave me.

At some point, Mark had started shivering. He took it as a good sign. He had gotten out of the danger zone and now... He just needs to wake up.

------

A few hours must've passed. Cesar had passed out, already cried himself to sleep. Mark peeled his eyes open and looked around the room. Where am I? I was at the lake and then... what?

His eyes caught Cesar sleeping on his chest, his cheeks having dried tears. Oh... What happened?

He wriggled his arms out of the blanket cocoon and petted his head. "It's okay..." He whispered. "I-I'm okay."

Cesar opened his eyes and lifted his head. He nearly stumbled to the floor when he saw him awake. "Oh my- Mom!! Guys!! He's awake!!"

Everyone ran into the room, asking Mark if he was okay, if he needed anything.

"Guys, I'm fine. I'm just a little cold."

"Dude, you fell into a frozen lake! You're lucky you didn't die!" Sean yelled.

"Oh..." His mind was already connecting the dots.

"I'm gonna make you some hot chocolate, okay? You just stay here." Julia was already making her way to the kitchen.

"Well, I'm already a Wookie so I'm not leaving anytime soon."

Cesar chuckled and he heard Mark chuckle back at him.

"Ces, you're wearing the Rudolph."

"Yeah yeah, i-it was the first thing I picked up." He turned to the others. "Why don't you guys put something on for him? We should make it up to him."

Nodding, everyone filed out of the room, Camila giving Mark a quick kiss on the forehead before leaving. Once everyone left, Cesar hugged him. "Mark, I'm so sorry. I should've did more to help."

"Ces, it's fine. I'm not dead."

"Still! I should've stopped you from going on that ice! I didn't know it was gonna-"

"Shhhh, it's okay. I'm fine now. And the others are here too so I'll be okay."

Cesar sniffled. "H-How are you feeling? Nothing broken?"

"Mmm, a bit sore, but nothing's broken."

"Good."

A few minutes of silence passed. Cesar crawled into bed and pulled him close. Mark jerked a bit at his sudden warmth, but snuggled into him. "You're warm."

Cesar chuckled. "So uh, everyone's gonna put something on the TV. Is there anything you want to watch?"

"Christmas Story reruns?"

"Umm, I think they're gonna show other Christmas programs like Frosty."

"Oh, I haven't watched that in years. I bet Sarah would love that."

"Yeah, she probably would."

"Alright, I'll join you guys. When I'm not naked."

Cesar pulled away. "Oh uh sorry! I-I'll leave you alone to change!" He speed walked out of the room leaving a cackling Mark in his wake.

----

An hour later, Mark was in a new batch of blankets, a change of clothes and he had a fresh batch of hot chocolate in hand. They were all in the couch watching Frosty the Snowman. He rested his head on Cesar's shoulder. "Is this heaven? Cause I don't want to leave."

Cesar petted his head, causing him to purr. He was warm, he was alive... He's here.

"Well, I can assure you it's real."

[cherubchoirs]

Please please share your thoughts on what it would take for V1 and V2 to settle down into rivalry or weird friendship instead of murder. Would Gabriel need to be an intermediate? Would they need to initially meet somewhere else, in a battle that isn't strictly against each other? Would V2 need to take initiative?

I adore your headcanons and your art, they always make my day brighter. Remember to hydrate, and take care of yourself. :)

uuwaahhhh thank you so much you're so sweet!! it always makes me so happy to hear that people enjoy my art and my ideas :') read more as always since i'm going to carry on lol

aaaaa evil siblings v1 and v2!! in this scenario i do think of gabriel as necessary and likely the one that initially finds v2 because v1 seeing it again would immediately cause a nonnegotiable fight regardless of how v2 approaches it. gabriel, on the other hand, knows nothing of v2 but would see that it's a very similar model to v1, and so would prefer to speak to it rather than engage it on sight (plus v2 is one of the few things in hell that doesn't instantly turn hostile upon seeing him, and gabe is likely much more contemplative at this point given the guilt he's working through - it would be nice not to choose killing for once) v2 isn't particularly interested in fighting an angel of his caliber either, not when it's likely gone through massive repairs at that point, is still learning some of its new parts, and wants to be damn sure it's as ready as it ever can be when it inevitably crosses paths with v1 again. so it's tired, it's angry, it's out of place and out of sorts, running on programming to see it through the depths of hell but mind so weighed down by what it's been through that it's in a peculiar state. it's so changed, not what was built so long ago as the perfect v model, some processors stuck on iterating over its need for revenge while others are busy contemplating what peace really is in hell, if there's any order at all to be achieved or if entropy is so far advanced that its directive is meaningless. the answers are obvious, but it continually rejects them and grows ever more exhausted as a result.

so gabriel isn't a welcome sight, but he doesn't attack and neither does v2...he would ask if it's "like v1", sparking two immediate thoughts in v2: it's still recognizable as a v model and gabriel knows v1, meaning he survived it too. if he did, could he have killed it? why doesn't he attack v2 then? the answers to its questions it could have never guessed when he tells it that they're...companions? he's hesitant with that label but v2 wouldn't blame him, what the fuck could that mean??? v1 doesn't make friends, doesn't have companions, v2 saw what its runaway programming has done to it. errored, but worse for it, worse than the war machine it should have been, a monster with an all-consuming mind that deconstructs you in seconds and strips you to raw data. it should have limits but it sees nothing but targets, but blood, but fun for it to have lest its mind rot to rust. and somehow gabriel acknowledges it without a fight, yet he's confident there's more to v1 than all that, that there is some kind of heart in it and v2 feels like it's going INSANE hearing that. gabriel's sure though, sure from what he's seen, felt, knows v1 has made immense effort to be gentle with him - and he sees v2 as its only family, something it should open up to as well so it may not be so alone.

it's a sentimental thought that's destroyed pretty quickly when v1 shows up because it could hear gabriel - it takes about 3 seconds for him to be scruffing both machines and holding them at arm's length so they don't IMMEDIATELY try to rip each other apart. it keeps them both relatively still, although v2 is hurling obscenities and v1 is signing a slew of taunts, so gabriel realizes he's got his work cut out for him…BUT he's determined to make it happen because this truly is v1's last connection to the world it came from. v1 doesn't see the point and v2 thinks it's impossible, but gabriel plays mediator just the same. i think ultimately that earnestness pushes v1 to make some effort if not just to make gabriel happy and for v2 it sees v1 doing so, sees it compromising its own objectives because it…cares. it KNOWS its code is getting super fucked up because of it, but it can actually observe it prioritizing something other than death and war, it's making deliberate decisions to accommodate someone else over itself. it's working hard it, fans blasting as it goes along with gabe's project, giving little affirmative chirps that it'll TRY it GUESSES if it's SO important to him. v2 absolutely teases it for it when it gets the chance, but if it can care so much about gabriel, maybe v2 can make its peace with it too. doesn't hurt that doing so gives its overly burdened mind a little respite too, to make peace after so long. it's not much, but it's a step away from entropy.

[practicingbushiho]

FFXIV DISCOURSE (CSA ment, sorry)

So, when I first noticed this fandom's bizarre sexualization of Yotsuyu, I tried to ignore it. It was just people being silly, and 'step on me' jokes were cringe, but I didn't make any noise about it because I just concluded that they were responding for japes. I need to talk about the way this fandom interacts with Yotsuyu as a character. And this will be the one post I allow myself to do so.

Recently, a blog was made to poll the 'fuckable' status of characters in the FF series; and it got to the point where Yotsuyu became a candidate. I, and maybe two others that I could see, were pretty unkosher with that; because Yotsuyu in the context of her canon was a tragic woman who was killed after a life of abuse and sex trafficking; and that happens to people IRL literally every day.

I was willing to accept that they would maybe just ignore people's remarks about that-- because at the end of it, most fandom wants to forget about narrative contexts so that they can have fun and not have to examine any behaviors that might make them feel guilty or uncomfortable. I'd have been alright with just being ignored completely.

I made the mistake of thinking that perhaps if they were called on it by more than just myself, that there would be some genuine reflection and thought discourse about the complexities of how being forced into sex work really damages your psyche and the way you interact with sex and sexuality. As someone who was put to survival-based sex work for a couple of years, I'd have been willing to weigh in with a legitimate conversation in good faith, if I felt I would be received with any seriousness.

But instead, they doubled down and insisted that whatever trauma they may or may not have endured themselves could be compared to being a victim of sex trafficking that eventually ended in actual murder, and in doing so missed the point in its entirety. I personally can't accept that.

So, I unfollowed the blog, and I gotta be real; if you agree with the sentiment that it's okay to flippantly sexualize Yotsuyu as a character simply because she is a fictional character that MAY have in another existence reclaimed her sexual agency in a way that wasn't horrifically self-destructive...block me. I'm so serious.

This is going to be the last I speak on her as a character publicly within fandom spaces. I need people to understand that having an abusive relationship, or being assaulted in childhood is awful; but it does not make you qualified to play armchair psychologist about people who have endured decades of sex trafficking, an industry in which so few escape alive.

Further, weaponizing your personal trauma as an explanation to absolve yourself of the guilt of sexualizing a character that in their OWN canon would revile you for doing so by saying it is people trying to punish "thought crimes" is integrally lazy and doesn't at all examine the criticism being made.

Nobody said that former abuse victims don't seek or desire acceptance. Nobody said that former abuse victims don't heal and eventually enjoy being sexualized. I for one am both of those things, and I am happily horny and unhinged in spite of a childhood of abuse and CSA.

It is more that it is a character assassination to blindly sexualize a character that would not want to be objectified. And in her canon, she never reaches a point where we can even hope to conceptualize that journey of self-acceptance within her. And because they are fictional, you think those feelings exist in a vacuum; but they do not.

If you are honestly using Yotsuyu to understand the abuse you endured in your personal life; I think that is a good thing. I think that privately or in small groups, character dialogues like hers are actually incredibly important to consider on an intimate level!

I do not think it is a good thing to put her in a fuckability poll for the fun of it. And those two things are not comparable to me at all. I'm not going to waste my time trying to get what I view as inexperienced children to understand the difference. What they are doing is what I see to be bad faith acting, and I'm not going to bite directly; but I did want to say how I felt about the decision personally, because what happened to her is something I have witnessed, and in many cases experienced when I was young.

And I would not want my sexual agency to be viewed through the lens of someone else's self-actualization for a fucking joke poll. The fucking end.

[tears-of-boredom]

i have a headache. and I hate my life. i dont know if its because of the meeting with the adult or because i feel like I fucked up my disco ely run. sorry for the spoilers but i fucking got him shot. he didnt trust me enough. oh my fucking god. im probably genuinely going to start all over again. i cant continue the run with that weighing on me. ill at least load a couple saves back. do the whole ruby thing later. or maybe i just feel shitty because i have a headache. and maybe i have a headache cause ive been staring at my computer screen the whole day...I wish the days were longer. i wish i could sleep and not have to face a new day. why cant the time just stop with me. why does it have to run on without me. i fucking hate adults. they speak as if theyre so nice and try to help, all while implying with every sentence that all of this is my fault. like sorry but this started early enough that the only thing that can be blamed is what raised me. and that is my mom assuring me that i can come to her for help, even though she's lying and is never truly able to help me. vacations spent at my father's, who never uttered a word beyond "shut the lights when you go to sleep" and openly smoked infront of the unlit fireplace, where the ventilation duct was. grandparents who got angry randomly, who you learned to tiptoe around, grandparents who started a screaming match with a 6 year old if she didnt want to go skiing in the winter, if she didn't want to go swimming in the summer, grandparents who walked back on their promises constantly, and got angry with you when you called them out, or tried to play it off as a joke, made you feel like an asshole if you continued to confront them about it. aunts that would scream at their own kids out of nowhere. cousins that either constantly cursed you out, or put you on such a high pedestal that you felt like you were constantly lying to them by just existing. a brother who was the only one out of us to be spared from the fate of growing up prematurely, who I blamed for all the screaming matches he and my mother got into. that one kindergarten teacher that called me patient, for just waiting for her to come back. the friend who made fun of me for not knowing things about gymnastics. a classmate whose mood could turn sour at any moment. a teacher who seemed to hate his job.

i feel like at the very least im owed being allowed to be this fucked up. allowed to be doing shit at school. allowed to hate every adult i am forced to talk to. allowed to not have any hobbies. allowed to fucking choose who i want to spend time with. allowed to learn to fucking say no without feeling guilt. allowed to be stuck in the past. allowed to stay in my room for days, not letting anyone in. allowed some fucking respect even if I refuse to talk.

[gracelaramusings]

Prologue: Wartime Travels

Back in 2017, my family set off for Myanmar just as the situation with the Rohingya reached a boiling point. We purchased our tickets before the situation escalated and became what many called a genocide. The news coming from the region was so horrific. As we were not meant to be traveling in the “affected” area of Myanmar, technically our journey was “not impacted” by the events. Still, how could one joyously travel and prance about when such murderous events were occurring in the very same country? Should I do a deep dive and weigh in? Cancel the trip? Feel guilty for even being there?

Then and there, I felt the need to address that elephant in the room. I put it out there. And basically, like the time I saw Salaam Bombay my sophomore year of university and felt this overwhelming sense of absolute guilt- how could I eat, dance and rejoice when so many in this world are living in abject poverty?- I realized then, there will always be horror in this world. We- I as an individual or my family or those I am closest with- may be blessed that it touches us less directly. We may be struck by it and forced to overcome it. What we do in our daily lives to make a difference somehow, is important. Yes, that helps alleviate the guilt when the need to overcome is less, perhaps, than others.

Horror. The horror. After October 7th, I felt a burning need to watch the movie Gallipoli (despite this Heart of Darkness reference, I did not watch Apocalypse Now in the days following). I recalled the sense of “if only” watching Gallipoli once again, knowing what is about to unfold, how countless deaths could have been prevented if only Mel Gibson ran just a little bit faster. Hoping the end would be different. Knowing it would not be.

If only.

This journey comes five months after the worst day in my, and many’s, lifetime. I and my family are the fortunate ones. My kids were meant to be at a music festival, not far from the site of Nova, that very next weekend. It could have been my kids. It wasn’t. Entire families massacred. Beheadings, rapes, mutilations, torture. And the hostages, still there, every day that passes, what horrors are they experiencing, day in and day out.

How can I go on vacation and have fun?

I am not trained in psychology. I do know that self-healing is important, if possible. That a break can help one continue, overcome, better help others. So that, is what I am doing. Re-juicing, so I can rejoice again. Knowing there are horrors. Doing what I can to help. Caring for myself, doing what I love, taking a break from this surreal reality in which the world hates Israel, hates me because I am Jewish, overlooks the atrocities and justifies the acts of terrorists, of Hamas. Disregards or ignores the fact that this war, in which too many are continuing to die, could end today— if only.

So, I am off, with Yuval. First to Seoul, then to Palawan and Coron in the Philippines, then to Singapore. Diving, dining, kayaking, swimming, dancing. And writing.

Every entry herewith is, in spirit, preceded by a sentence, a prayer, that I write here: Day x of the war. 133 hostages who must return home. Soldiers who must stay safe. May we recall the beauty of the 1,200 who were lost. May innocents, no matter where, not be harmed. May Hamas lay down its arms today. May we know no more horror. May we know no more sorrow.

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

[yengyangyo]

berry | k.s.w

pairings: kim sunwoo x female reader

genre: college au, friends to lovers

summary: you are in denial that you have a crush on your own friend, kim sunwoo until he made you confess your feelings.

word count: 1.9k

note: i wrote this on sunwoo's birthday. its quite late to post it cs i kept on postponing it sksksk but yea this was inspired by sunwoo's berry. enjoy reading! xo

-

you had sunwoo on your mind for days that you are lacking of sleep. it doesnt sit quite right for you to have this 'romantic' feelings for your bestfriend. meanwhile, sunwoo is not helping you to clear up your mind at all. he's just always there beside you no matter what.

he'd wait at the bus stop just to go to class together with you in the morning even when you're running late. lunch time together is a must unless one of you had other plans. both of you are just stuck together anywhere you go.

so for once, you thought it'd be a good plan to avoid him today. you woke up early that morning to get to class and you texted sunwoo that you had a discussion with your groupmates. this went on for a few days, you were making excuses everyday but sunwoo believed you.

until he couldnt take it anymore.

you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket and you saw sunwoo on the caller id. you were hesitating to pick it up until you felt someone grabbing your wrist from the back, turning you around.

"found ya!"

sunwoo appeared in front of you with the brightest smile. you couldn't help but to feel happy and welcomed by him that you started smiling unknowingly. you get back to your senses seconds later and avoided his eyes.

sunwoo knew something was wrong when he saw your expression fell. he glanced at your phone that kept ringing. he ended the call and your phone went off too.

"why arent you answering my calls? are you still busy?"

you couldnt stand seeing sunwoo looking all gloomy and upset. you felt bad for ignoring him so you tried making up excuses again.

"oh yea i was about to pick it up. sorry,"

sunwoo pouted and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. he's using his favourite perfume again today, you noticed. that scent happened to be your fav of him too. you felt weak and wanting to crawl into a hole or something.

"im craving chicken today. how about chicken and beer for dinner tonight?"

sunwoo turned his head at you, waiting for an answer. you looked up at him and his face was only inches away from you. you looked away, flustered. he had always been this way but only now you noticed how you felt about him which made it more awkward to be this close to him.

"i dont know, sunwoo. i'll have to check with my groupmates," you said, pretending to check your phone for your nonexistent messages.

"its friday come on. i havent hang out with you for days already," sunwoo whined and that made you laugh.

"alright but i get to choose where to eat,"

-

you chose the chicken restaurant near your neighbourhood where you both are regular customers there. the place was crowded with youngsters like the both of you, drunken with beer and chicken.

you were also getting tipsy from drinking. the first 30 minutes of the dinner went normal. asking how each other had been doing with the college life.

sunwoo sighed and rested his chin on his right palm. his eyes falters on you, searching for something. you looked away, feeling a bit burdened and transparent, because sunwoo knew you werent acting yourself these days.

"hey," he called you but you didnt answer and still avoiding the eye contact.

"hey look at me,"

you were startled at the warmth on both of your cheeks. sunwoo was cupping your cheeks to make you look at him straight in the eyes. you didnt know if this warmth was from his hand or from you blushing.

"what's wrong?" he asked. now his hand moved to yours, holding it tight. "you're avoiding me these days. do you think i didnt notice?"

silence fell between you two, just staring at each other. the guilt creeping up inside you and you didn't know where to start.

its the smallest gesture from him that create butterflies in your stomach.

that one time he opened the water bottle for you when he saw you struggling and saying that you're such a baby. his laughter filled the room when you frowned at the remark. you know how much he loves annoying you and in the end he always made you laugh too.

on rainy days, he'd always share the umbrella with you and keeping you close to him so you wouldnt get drenched. sometimes he'd gently rub your arm so you wouldn't get too cold.

sometimes he'd call you names like how boyfriend and girlfriend do, jokingly. though, you somewhat enjoyed it and played along. pretending to cringe but actually was flattered by him.

at this moment, your hand in his, eyes boring into each other, you just want to scream at him how much you love him.

you smiled in defeat and pulled back your hand.

"there were just so many thoughts going on my mind lately, sunwoo. im so sorry,"

he didn't question you any further and he nodded his head.

"whatever it is youre thinking, i just want you to know i'm always here for you,"

you smiled, this time sincerely at him.

"you always are sunwoo. i appreciate that,"

he smirked, "after all, i am the best that you got,"

you rolled your eyes and gave him your disgusted face.

"so are you gonna tell me what's bugging you?"

"i think i like someone. he's just always running round in my mind these days,"

you didnt know where the courage came from to blurt out that out of your mouth. sunwoo who was halfway shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth, stopped. he put it down and looked at you, doubting himself if he heard that right.

"i couldnt stop thinking about him. that pretty much explains that i like him right? or is it just my mind playing games with me?"

you swore you saw his face fell for a second but he went back to the usual sunwoo after that.

"does he know about your feelings?"

you shrugged, "nah. im still trying to find out what i really feel about him. should i tell him?"

sunwoo didnt say anything and chugged down his beer until its empty.

"yea why not," he answered simply. "he must be really lucky to have you,"

you laughed, "i havent done anything yet. there's a possibility that he'd reject me too anyway,"

its funny how you talk about this like its some stranger to sunwoo when you are talking about him. you felt light hearted a bit after letting that out.

"who'd reject you?" sunwoo said while playing with that piece of chicken, not looking at you anymore. "you're pretty and fun,"

you raised an eyebrow, wondering if you heard that right. he was still poking the chicken with his fork, eyes hazy and lips pouting.

"so you're not gonna tell me who is this guy you have a crush on?"

"you'll find out soon,"

-

sunwoo offered to walk you home though you kindly told him he didn't have to. he insisted and now you are walking beside him. he was suddenly quiet after the conversation you had with him.

"is that why you're avoiding me? because you have a crush on this guy?"

he asked, hands in his pockets, eyes looking forward. you looked at him, feeling a bit weirded out by his cold tone.

"no... okay maybe? i dont know. i just needed some time to myself,"

sunwoo fell quiet again for the rest of the walk home. when you reached the front gate of your house, you looked back at sunwoo. he looked like he was upset. you walked up to him and pat his side.

"hey thanks for walking me home. i'll tell you everything when i'm ready okay?"

sunwoo didnt say anything and you turned around to get out of that awkward moment.

"no i'll tell you everything right now okay? hear me out,"

you stopped in your tracks and facing him in confusion. he was pacing around, his hands are restless in his pockets.

"before you confess to him i guess i have to make a move on you first," sunwoo said, this time he raised his voice. "this is why people are saying we should always tell what we feel before we regret it and i dont want to regret it but i think im too late,"

you are worried at him. he looked like he was about to break down right in front of you. you wanted to comfort him but you didnt get what he's trying to say.

"sunwoo, i dont understand. what is it?"

sunwoo stopped pacing around and stopped directly in front of you. you swore you saw his eyes tearing up and you wanted to cry too. you thought, the alcohol has made both of you emotional.

"i like you,"

you both felt like the world is weighing down. it was as if the time has stopped for you two. you were staring at each other in disbelief.

"i know you like someone else and i shouldve told you sooner. i kept on putting back my feelings behind," sunwoo halted, gasping for air. "im too late now but i have to tell you this,"

"sunwoo-"

"i dont care who he is. but i want you to know that you deserve of love. you kept on telling yourself you dont deserve anyone. you know how badly i want to tell you that im here? i want to love you," sunwoo was practically shouting at this point. he sighed, "shit im already am in love with you,"

at those words, your tears came streaming down like crazy. you've never seen him cry but tonight he looked beautiful even when he's crying. you lurched forward and wrapped your arms around him. he buried his face in your neck and you felt his warm tears on your skin.

"im sorry. i just wanted to let that out after keeping it for so long. this is the worst timing huh?" he murmured under his breath.

you shook your head and laughed. you let go of the hug first and cupped his face in your hands. teary eyes staring at each other.

"sunwoo its you,"

"what?"

"i love you too,"

you closed the distance between the two of you, kissing him for the first time. that caught him off guard but then smiled in the kiss. it was sloppy but sunwoo is for sure leading you well at this. you both craved for this for a long time already. you were still crying of relief and touched by his confession.

"you should've told me before i start crying like an idiot," sunwoo looked down at you, smiling with his swollen eyes.

you laughed at him and you snuggled more into his embrace not wanting to let go too soon. you realized how much you miss him after those dreading days of ignoring him. he rested his chin on your head while gently patting you.

"im sorry ive been ignoring and denying my feelings for you,"

"its okay. thank god we actually like each other though," you both laughed at the same time and you havent felt this happy and giddy before.

"so i can actually call you my baby now?" sunwoo asked smirking at you playfully, knowing how much you hated it before.

"that's still cringy but sure, babe,"

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Love Me Tender•

Summary: After waiting, watching, and wanting, Tamaki finally has a way to get to you. He's willing to do use some questionable methods, make deals with shifty friends, whatever it takes. He'll have you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Tamaki Amajiki x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, coercion, sabotage, manipulation, hard dom Tamaki, slight brat reader, mostly sub reader, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle play (oral, vaginal, anal, gagging), bondage (with tentacles), mild dumbification, degradation, spit play, cum play, wittle bit of bloodplay, creampie, marking, possession kink, collaring. Kinda-sorta dub-con (not really imo but warning just in case)

Word Count: 11,576

A/N: Jesus fucking christ I did it.

Part One: Porcelain Obsession

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

   Tamaki awoke painfully this morning, body aching and covered in dried sweat. It wasn't a feeling to be proud of, but it was a feeling he cherished. 

   Your stolen underwear is clutched in his hand still, like a lifeline. It still smells just a little bit like you… but not enough. He couldn't feel you or taste you or hold you. He had to figure something out, quickly. He had to find a way to make you his. 

   Luckily, Tamaki knows exactly how to make that happen…

***                                         

  You hang up your apron with a deep sigh, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Thank god it's only a half day, you finally have an afternoon off, a day to spend by yourself. 

   You bid your coworkers farewell and head out of the shop. You wander home, earbuds in as you try to drown out the noise of the city. Once you're home, you notice a small box on your doorstep. 

   It's a pretty little gold box with purple ribbon, a tiny note is attached to the top. The scribbled writing reads,

   "I thought this would look pretty on you, I'm sorry about the weird exit last night. I'd like to take you to get some coffee to make up for it, if you'll let me." - Tamaki

   Your heart flutters a bit at the note, you had deduced you were nothing more than a charity case. Him walking you home was just what he felt was fair in exchange for the use of your phone, he didn't really… like you? Did he? 

   His exit was just a little bit strange, he seemed almost panicked. You wanted to ask if everything was ok, but figure it best to stay out of a hero's business. Who knows what door you'd be opening if you started to ask too many questions.

   Beneath his note is a phone number, obviously his. You can't call him right away, it might seem desperate, but you can open the box. 

   When the lid comes off, you gasp quietly at what's hidden inside. On a delicate silver chain sits one lovely little pearl. You stand there, amazed and confused. Wondering why on earth somebody like Suneater would leave such a precious little gift for you. 

***

   You called the number left on the note about an hour after receiving it. As soon as Tamaki picks up the phone your heart leaps into your throat. 

   "I didn't think y-you'd call." He laughs afterwards, but you can hear traces of genuine anxiety underneath. 

   "Well, what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn't call back the hero that saved me from a lonely walk home?" Your face crinkles up at your horrid attempt at flirting. 

   He doesn't seem to mind, though. He gives you a sweet laugh, putting some of your nerves at ease. 

   "So, uh- coffee?" He wonders. 

   "I'd love to, I just got off work, but I imagine you're busy doing hero stuff. We can-"

   "No I'm not busy." He says quickly, his urgency makes you smile. He's almost boyish in his approach, and it's very charming. 

   Somehow, between the two of you suffering your way through the conversation, you set a time for coffee.

***

    Tamaki makes a quick stop before meeting you, visiting a horrid friend of his in an alleyway a hero should never be unless he's kicking someone's ass. 

   His "friend" turns out to be a little more than your average criminal. He's a wicked looking man, with a mess of black hair and an abundance of scarring littering his body. 

   They call him Dabi. 

   "So what's the plan here? Am I just scarin' the poor girl or do I get to have some real fun?" His smile is devilish, and his eyes are telling. 

   It makes Tamaki's skin crawl, he stares daggers at the man leaning against the brick of the alleyway. 

   "If you touch her, I will gut you like a fucking fish." Tamaki says, he's full of rage, but he says it so calmly, so matter of fact. 

   "You can try." Dabi laughs, "You forget how easy it is to cook seafood." 

   Tamaki stands there for a brief second, watching the villain, weighing his options. 

   "I'm not here for banter, can you do the job or not?" His words are clipped, strangely articulate compared to his usual stutter. 

   "Yeah whatever, I got nothin' planned for tonight, and I do love making little girls scream." He tilts his head back against the wall as Tamaki turns to stalk away. 

   "Hey, Suneater." Dabi calls out with a lazy voice. 

   Tamaki freezes and keeps his back to Dabi. He turns his head to the side and waits for him to speak. 

   "Send her my way when you're done with her." If Tamaki had less of the public eye on him, he would have slit Dabi's throat then and there. 

   Instead, he swallows his rage as he tosses a hefty wad of cash over his shoulder. 

   "Don't be late." 

***

   "You always just drink it black? Not even a little bit of sugar?' You ask, astounded by Tamaki's ability to drink the bitter liquid without any sweetener.

   "Sugar is kind of useless for me, I try to eat things that'll help me with m-my quirk." He explains, his deep eyes wander while he talks, like he's watching for something. 

   That must come with being a hero. 

   "Does coffee help your quirk?" You ask, a smile playing at your lips when you see him frown at his drink. 

   "No, but it helps me focus."

   You nod playfully before taking a sip, the cafe he's brought you to is incredibly charming. It's not an overly hip establishment, it's just a sweet little hidden gem. Tucked away into a forgotten street, it gives the impression that it's a well kept secret between two best friends. 

   "Do you feel like people ask too much of you?" You question. It slips out so quickly, running away from you after launching out of your lips. 

   Your hatred for small talk gets the best of you and you jump the gun, as always. You want to hide, but not before you apologise a thousand times for being too straightforward. 

   Tamaki looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes show that he's shocked, but not offended.

   "Sometimes. It can feel like people expect me t-to be the…" He pauses for a moment, mentally grasping for the right word. 

   "It feels like people expect Heroes to be this ultimate, universal band-aid. In a lot of ways, we are, but we're still h-human… I-I'm still human…" His voice slows down by the end of his sentence, like he's realized he might be over sharing. 

   But, you asked him, you wanted to know. You actually care about him? Every bone in his body is screaming at him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and run away. He feels some carnal desire to just keep you. Hide you from every selfish asshole that would take advantage of the starstruck look in your beautiful eyes. 

   He can't, though… not yet. 

   "S-sorry…" He whispers. 

   And then, you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. He feels the contact all the up his arm, into his chest, into his heart. 

   So you do want him too. 

   "Please don't be sorry, I liked listening to you talk." You say quietly. 

   You did love it, you loved it because you've felt so unheard, so unseen. Being able to provide somebody else with a pair of listening ears serves as a kind of relief for those feelings. 

   "Can you tell me more?" You test, hand squeezing his own a little more. 

   He looks almost elated, thrilled to be seen, excited to be heard. Most of all, he's itching to finally have you. 

***

   The date was nothing short of wonderful, filled with cute little fumblings of words, hands brushing but never holding, and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves with each other. 

   You flop onto your bed, reminiscent of a teenager who's just had their first kiss. You didn't kiss him goodnight, you chickened out of that. But you did press your lips against his cheek for a brief moment, which seemed to have quite the effect on him. 

      His breath hitched, his fists balled at his sides, acting like he'd never been touched so tenderly. It made you wonder, is the Hero as lonely as you are? 

   You glance over at your night stand, seeing the pretty little necklace sitting in its box. You're washed with guilt as you realize you forgot to wear it to coffee, knowing he must have wanted you to. You take it out of the box carefully before pulling it around your neck and hooking it into place. It fits like a choker, snug against your skin, but it feels good to have it so close.

   You're ripped from your musing when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. 

   Inside your house. 

   Your blood chills, hair stands up on the back of your neck and you rise from your bed slowly. You try to talk yourself down, kill the first nerves that consume your chest. It was probably a poorly balanced vase… except, you don't own any vases. It could have been a picture? Nope, not a picture, it was just glass… like a window breaking. 

   There's a gun in your office, but you're in the bedroom. You scan the room for something, anything that could be used for defense. Of course, nothing but a damn notebook. 

   The police, you should call the police. Your heart clenches when you hear the threatening sound of heavy footsteps falling down your hallway. 

   They're heading straight for your bedroom. 

   You lunge at the door, hand landing on the doorknob just as it begins to turn. Desperately, uselessly, you try to lock it. It's too late, though, it's already opening by the time your thumb lands on the lock. 

   You can hear your blood rushing when the door swings towards you, a large black boot planted on the other side to force it open. 

   "Sorry 'bout the window, sweetheart. I tried the front door, but it was locked." The intruder chuckles as he invades your bedroom. 

   You stumble back as you take in his sewn together form, a mess of black leather and scars. Wild, electric blue eyes devour your trembling form as you press yourself back into the wall. 

   "Oh, hon, you're shakin' like you're in danger. I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm gonna do the opposite." He stalks towards you, somehow moving in slow motion but with incredible speed all at the same time. 

   Your phone sits on your night stand, only feet away but all too unreachable. You're caged in by his arms as he towers over you, filling your nose with some horrid, smokey smell. 

   "P-please, you can have anything, j-just don't-" 

   Your words halt when a long, pale finger traces over your collar bone. 

   "Don't what? 'J-just don't' what?" He mocks you, eyes lit with a sadistic amusement. 

   Your heart rattles in your chest as tears prick your eyes, you can't fight him, he's huge. You don't have your gun. You don't have your phone. You're fucked. 

   "Cryin' already? What's the matter, doll?-" The hand traces your collar bone moves up to wrap around your throat, "Not a fan of villains?" 

   Your hands paw at his wrist, you will yourself to sputter something out, any kind of objection to whatever he has planned. You try to whimper out a 'stop', but when your mouth finally forms the word, the voice isn't yours, but it's familiar.

   It's low, clipped and dangerous as it barks out the warning. 

   Suneater. 

   Suddenly, as if he's being yanked to the heavens by the Gods, your assailant is torn away from you. A large, red tentacle captures him by the waist and throws him across the room. You collapse to the ground instantly, curling around your legs as you hear the muffled sounds of a violent fight. 

   You hide in your own little world, trembling and clenching yourself. You take one peak from between your arms, just to see Tamaki place the intruder in a chokehold before barking some profane threat at him. 

   The villain is smiling the whole time, he even winks at you. 

   "If I ever see you near her again, you won't walk away with your life." Tamaki snarls as the stranger breaks away from his hold.  

   "She's not worth the trouble." He laughs, raising one hand before sending brilliant blue flames blasting towards Tamaki. 

   You scream involuntarily, reaching out for the Hero as he jumps away from the flames. Once they're gone, the villain is gone as well. Like some cheap magician disappearing off stage. The room is almost entirely untouched by the burst of fire, at most, the tip of your comforter is singed. 

   The second the fire is gone, Tamaki is walking towards you urgently, pulling you to your feet so he can cradle your face. 

   "Are you ok? Did he touch you? What happened?" His inky eyes search your face frantically. 

   You don't answer, you just stutter, clinging to his hands until you can finally squeak out, "I'm ok." 

   His shoulders drop as he sighs, hands loosening their grip. His eyes flicker down to the necklace, his gaze softens when he sees how pretty it looks on you. 

   "Y-you… Do you like it?" He asks timidly, glancing up at you. 

    You breathe for a moment, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in attention. 

   "I love it." You say quietly, still trembling. 

   He just saved you, really saved you from a real villain who was planning God knows what, and he's worried about your necklace? 

   "It's so pr-pretty on you…" He reaches down to touch it, leaving one hand on your cheek. 

   You take the moment to breathe, remind yourself that you're safe, that you're with a hero now. You observe Tamaki's almost casual appearance, a dry fit shirt and simple tactical pants. It almost helps you relax, seeing him like so… at ease? 

   His fingers play with the pearl, deep eyes transfixed. Something nearly uncontrollable swells within his chest. It burns and aches and eats at him. You're so close, you're so warm, so soft. He could have you, he could just take you. 

   "Tamaki?" You prod gently, your own chest stirs, and something pulls you towards him.

   His eyes snap up to yours, and something shifts in the air. It feels sticky, heavy, too hard to breathe. His gorgeous form towers over you, pressing you back up against the wall as his eyes devour your trembling body. 

   "Thank you f-for saving me." You whisper.

   He nods earnestly, his breathing is shaking, his hands feel like they're holding back. 

   "Anything. Anything for you." 

   That line, that makes you ache.

   How long have you felt so lukewarm, so overlooked and forgotten? Too long, far too long. Now, with Tamaki looking down at you like you're priceless, you feel fiery, you feel seen and remembered. 

   Your hands grasp at his wrists, your eyes flick down to his parted lips. You're not sure what you want to happen next, but you want him as close as you can get him.

   "If you let me start, I will not stop." His voice drops and it makes your breath catch. 

   He feels it too, then. 

   Is it the high of what you've just gone through? Is it just your body trauma bonding with the man that just saved you? Or do you really, really want him so bad it hurts? 

   His tone is warning and his eyes are frantic. 

   "Please." Is the only thing that falls from your quivering lips. 

   Consequences be damned, motives especially be damned. You need him, and he needs you. That's enough explanation for tonight. 

   He consumes you much like the villains flames, his lips are on yours almost too fast, his hands are greedy as they hold your face to his. 

   While you feel similar to a lovesick girl getting kissed for the first time, Tamaki feels like a prisoner finally set free. He feels like a lion that was held in a cage and taunted with a piece of meat. He feels like the door has finally been opened, and he can finally sink his teeth in. 

   "I wanna feel you." He brings his mouth away from yours with much reluctance, leaving his forehead pressed against yours. 

   You flounder for a moment, with your mouth feeling dry and your limbs feeling heavy. 

   "Where?" You choke out, searching his face for any tell. 

   "God, everywhere." It's a broken request, said like a secret. 

   "Take it. Whatever you want." Your boldness surprises you both. 

   You're hooked on the exhilaration, you're craving more, you want to feel something. Even after just a walk home and a coffee date, you want to feel it with Tamaki. 

   "Don't give me that…" He shivers as he presses his body against yours, making it very evident how much of an affect you're having on him. 

   "I'll ruin you." He whimpers when you grind back against him, your hands tug at his shirt and you look up at him with wide eyes. 

   "Who said I don't want that?" 

   You both stand there frozen, waiting for the other to move, to prove that this isn't a dream. 

   "Fuck." 

   His hands descend from cradling your face so they can wrap around your neck with the most gentle grip. 

   He watches you intently, feels your breath quicken, cherishing the way you bite your lip when his fingers tighten slightly. 

   Internally, Tamaki is fighting the most challenging battle he's ever had to face. He's had to take on a wide variety of formidable enemies, but right now, nothing seems more formidable than having to hold himself back when he finally has you in his arms. 

   He wants to take and take and take, for as long as you'll let him… maybe even longer. 

   She's mine now.

   Something shifts in his gaze just then, making him look almost primal. It makes your chest feel frozen, makes it difficult to breathe or focus. 

   His hands shift around your neck, they feel almost… slippery? Their texture is different, their movement is more fluid. Then, you feel it, the distinct sensation of a suction cup latching against your skin. 

   Tentacles. He's made each of his fingers a tentacle.

   Your eyes stay locked on his, both of you in a heated trance as you watch how the other responds. 

   One slick tendril crawls up to latch onto your chin, he turns your head upwards and to the side with a thoughtful look. It's almost like he's sizing you up, appraising you. 

   After a thick moment of silence, he finally speaks. 

   "I'm going to make you cry." It's a depraved promise, beautifully whispered with no shame. 

   You stand there, held by him, captured by him. You're helplessly entranced, all rational thought is long gone as you reel over the implications of his statement. All you can know for sure, is you want more. 

    Despite every red flag, regardless of any common sense, you want more. 

   "I dare you." You say back to him, the desperation to feel anything other than mundane spurs you onward.

   He receives the words like it's a smack to the face, some shock evident in his eyes. He didn't take you for a brat, but he can certainly roll with it. 

   "You're gonna make this fun for me, aren't you?" He questions, his tentacles grip you tighter now, reminding you who has the high ground. 

   Mine. 

   The air shifts, something heavier takes over the mood, it settles in your ribs and wraps around your heart. 

   He guides you away from the wall, shepherding you around until your back is towards your bed. He starts walking you backwards until your knees buckle once they hit the mattress. 

   You sit there, gazing up at him, held still by his quirk, transfixed by the power he exudes as he towers over you. 

   "Has anyone ever had you before?" He asks, finally returning his hand to normal so he can cradle your cheek. 

   The question has your stomach burning with nerves. 

   No, nobody ever has. 

   You shake your head, looking down, cheeks burning as you try to hide your embarrassment. 

   His reaction shocks you immensely, his whole body shutters and he drops to his knees. His hands settle on your waist as he moves between your legs. 

   "Th-this is… all mine then?" He asks, he rubs his thumbs over the bottoms of your ribs affectionately. 

   His eyes are wide and reverent as he waits for your answer, looking like you're some anointed goddess. His eyes skate over every feature he can, and he cherishes each one. 

   Your confession nearly knocks the wind out of him, especially with how sweet you look, all blushing and embarrassed. It makes his need to rip you apart even stronger. 

   "Please...let me give you everything…" His hands tighten on you and you feel them shaking.

   You study him for a second, at a complete loss for words, he seems so… devoted. It pulls on your heart, clouds your mind and lights your body up. How could you possibly say no to him? How on earth could you turn someone away when they’re looking at you like you’re placed on an altar ready to be worshiped. 

   Carefully, like you’re trying not to frighten a beast, you reach out and touch his face. He moves into your touch like a lonely cat, desperate for affection and recognition. 

   “Please…” You breathe. 

   And that’s all it takes. 

   His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh rush as he moves forward like a leopard, lean and precise as he forces you onto your back. 

   Your blood rushes so quickly you swear you can hear it, your mouth goes dry as he stares you down. He’s suddenly less reverent, now he’s ravenous. A dangerous, carnivorous look dances in his dark eyes. His judgement is clouded just like yours, only it fuels him, while your state is much more terrified. Any spunk you had in you is thrown out the window as he leers over you.

   You shrink into the mattress as he hovers above you on all fours, heavy eyelids and parted lips giving him a nearly drugged look. 

   “When you say everything-” He whispers, moving so he can settle on his knees between your open legs, “Do you mean this too?” He drops his hips as he questions you, pressing something very hard into your thigh, something very intimidating. 

   He watches your eyes go wide, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you gasp after he rolls his hips. His arms cage you, a strong hand placed on either side of your head, the position makes you feel so pathetic, so helpless, but it gives you an incredible rush. 

   “Don’t look so scared, it won’t hurt.” He dips down to press his hot, open mouth against your neck, tongue lapping at your pulse. A dark chuckle leaves his chest, “Not much, at least.” 

   Then he’s definitely less reverent, he’s no longer worshipful, he’s a wicked, unleashed best. His hands are selfish as they remove your clothes, his mouth is voracious against your skin. He has you panting and twitching in seconds, musing at you when your reactions are particularly strong. 

   It’s when he snakes down your body, wetting your skin with his tongue, settling between your breasts so he can suck harshly at the heated skin, that you finally feel something break within you. You arch into his touch, fisting your hands in his raven hair, whimpering so beautifully for him as he works you up. 

   He knows what he’s doing, he’s skilled, well equipped for pulling you apart. He’s already descended into some debauched state of being, and he’s pulling you down with him. 

   “Nobody’s ever tasted this sweet little cunt before, have they?” He asks against your skin, latching his mouth back to the spot he’s focused on marking, but looking up at you with inquiring eyes. 

   You try to swallow, shake your head, do something, but all you can do is lay there naked and gasping.

   He laughs again, a wicked thing that leaves his chest like a wisp of wind. He slides a hand up your body, he flicks over your nipple with his thumb on the way up, pulling another whimper out of you. 

   His hand latches onto your jaw, then he shakes your head for you, doing what he knows you can’t. 

   “Oh baby…” He sighs, “You saved it for me?” He teases, hips grinding against you, the cloth of his pants creates a strange kind of friction against your clit, not unpleasant, but not pleasurable. Where the hell did the sweet, stuttering hero go? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks deviant… almost villainous.

   “Tama- please.” You shiver, not sure what you’re asking for, but certain that you need more. 

   “Good girl, talk to me.” His hand slinks down your throat before he rises to his knees. 

   Your eyes lock on the tightness of his pants, trying not to panic at the sheer size of the imprint he’s making on them. 

   His shirt is pulled over his head, messing his hair in the most handsome way, and the breath is ripped from your lungs. 

   He’s stunning, broad and strong looking. He’s all porcelain skin over well trained muscle. Built perfectly for the work he does. Built perfectly for ripping apart poor little girls like you. 

   “I liked the look you got when I had my tentacles on you.” He sighs, letting a hand fall to your bare stomach so he can trace lazy circles against you. 

   “Did you like that? Do you want me to use my tentacles to play with you?” He questions. 

   His voice is low, it’s rich and warm and dripping with seduction. Nothing like the tentative, wobbly tone he usually has. It rips the ground out from underneath you, leaves you panting and blinking like a brain dead fool as you gawk up at his prowling form. 

   “Just a yes or no, if you can manage it.” He smiles sweetly up at you, splaying his hand across your quaking abdomen. 

   You breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself, trying to catch up with what he’s said. 

   “Y-yes.” You whisper, barely audible, hardly heard over your labored breathing. 

   His other hand mirrors the one he has on you, sliding around to hold you by the waist, a gentle cage meant to establish dominance. 

   “Yes… what?” He prompts, pressing his thumbs down. 

   You falter then, your tongue feels heavy, your mind slows and you’re suddenly void of all vocabulary. Were you really really about to let one of the most well known pros wreck your body with his quirk? Were you actually laid out for him like this? You know so little of him, your only information gathered from small talk, but something about that had you buzzing. 

   You could be whoever you want to be, you don’t have to be the floundering virgin. You don’t have to be so damn shell shocked. 

   “Yes, D-daddy.” You test, hoping to God or whoever is listening that you got the right name. 

   By the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his grip tightens, the way his body tenses, you sure as hell did. 

   “That’s it.” He sighs, “-and what about you?” He wonders, his hold going gentle again. 

   You? What about you? 

   Tamaki watches you carefully, barely containing the raging storm inside him, barely holding back the carnal urge to turn every limb to a pretty purple tentacle and stuff you until you’re crying for mercy. 

   Not yet, don’t fuck this up. 

   “Princess? Darling?” He asks, lowering himself back down to kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his thick lashes. 

   “Whatever you want.” You answer. Your sweet, sacred submission makes him close his eyes and breathe in. 

   Hold it. Not. Yet.

   “You’re like an angel.” He breathes, making you shiver under the weight of the high praise. 

   He notices your reaction immediately, smiling to himself. 

   “So that’s it.” He presses a long kiss just under your belly button, bringing attention to how naked you are, and how naked he is not. 

   Your thighs squeeze together and your arms come up to cover your chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep it all out of view. 

   His hands are on your wrist and his body is crouched over yours again before you can blink. He pins your hands beside your head, looking down at you with some wild, unbridled kind of look in his eyes. 

   “You do not get to hide from me.” His shoulders flex as he pushes your wrists down into the mattress, earning a whine from you as the pressure starts to ache. 

   “You’re mine. That means I get all of you.” He bites the words off, but keeps his voice quiet. 

   You should be scared, crying even, but the only thing you feel is exhilaration, the ache between your legs and the fluttering of your heart as he overpowers you with just the look in his eyes and a few harsh words. 

   “Do you understand me?” He eases up on your wrists slightly, looking more stern, less unhinged. 

   “I-I do, I’m sorry.” You whimper out. 

   He considers you for a brief second, eyes growing softer as he watches the way your pretty lip trembles. 

   “It’s ok.” He releases your wrists and speaks gently, “You’re ok.” 

   The reassurances makes you dizzy, especially in contrast with how rough he just was. 

   "Hold still for me, angel." Then he’s back to mouthing at your skin.

   His teeth meet your collarbone and your hands reach for his messy hair. 

   “There?” He asks against you, a smile in his voice as he lets his teeth gather your skin again. The spot he finds makes you dizzy, you feel the heat spread across your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

   Tamaki is still stuck in his own chains, fighting against them as he focuses on the way you twitch for him, the way your body rolls when he bites harder. 

   So she likes it.

   Your body heats up, it's all so overwhelming. It's so different from anything you've ever felt, and you can't believe it's with him. 

    Then his kisses get more sloppy, his teeth are sharper against you. He leaves you shining with his spit, painted in blooming purple and red bruises as he begins his journey down your body. 

   "Da-addy." You sniffle when he bites into the underside of your breast. 

   It doesn't feel loving, it doesn't feel passionate, it just feels rough. 

   "Hush." He mumbles against you, "If you can't take this I might as well stop now." He looks up at you, challenging you. 

   "I can t-take it, I can." You breathe, nodding, looking at him with begging eyes, "Please, don't stop." 

   He honest to god growls against you. You couldn't possibly know what you do to him, how sweet your willingness sounds, how beautiful you look laid out for him. He knows he should take his time, and he resents that fact. He almost resents you for being so sweet and needy. With all the things he wants to do to you, he almost, almost, wishes you had at least some experience. This makes you his completely, though, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

   His hot mouth moves lower and lower until he's tonguing at your hip bone, pulling the skin into his mouth so he can work his teeth against it. He will mark you wherever he can, as long as you'll let him. 

   Your hips roll up against him, making him smirk at how needy you're acting. 

   "Ask for it." He whispers, hungry hands slide up the outsides of your thighs, "Ask for what you want." 

   His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, sending the breath from your lungs as he glares up at you. He lets his wet tongue loll out to give a teasing flick against the crux of your thigh. 

   You take a deep breath in and cling to the sheets for dear life, "Please, use your mouth on me." 

   He smiles so sweetly then, looking mildly amused. 

   "Here?" He goes back to that same spot, sucking and teasing, looking all too pleased with himself. 

   "Be specific, angel, tell me where you need me." 

   Tamaki knows for a fact that he didn't have to spend his time making you ask for things, he knows what you want, he knows how to give them to you. He could take whatever he needs, probably without much a fight from you, but what fun would that be? He would miss the pretty blush creeping across your skin, and the sweet little tears in your big eyes. No, he wouldn't be missing this, not for the world. 

    "I wanna feel your tongue, please, use your mouth on m-my cunt." You shiver, timid and uncertain about your phrasing. 

   It seems to do the trick though, because Tamaki's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. 

   He answers with a low moan before grabbing you by the insides of your thighs so he can spread you open. Once the air of the room hits you, you're made painfully aware of just how soaked you are. 

   It makes Tamaki look like a wild man, all blown out pupils blushing cheeks. 

   Almost in slow motion, he presses his tongue into the spot right above your clit, making you whine and buck against his mouth. 

   "Needy little thing." He says, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, "But I suppose I have teased enough." 

   Then he's on you, and the second his tongue meets your weak spot you know you're ruined. You know that not one person will ever hold a candle to Tamaki Amajiki. 

   He pulls away for only a second, just to whisper praises up to you, "Your cunt tastes like everything I've ever needed." 

   You huff at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do, heart soaring because of his confession.

   Then he dives back in, and he gets sloppy with it, setting a pace that feels so good it aches. The heat spreads through every limb, and settles somewhere deep in your chest. Everything tingles and burns, and breathing seems nearly impossible. 

   Internally, Tamaki is raging. He’s so close to losing it, he feels himself slipping, your taste spreads across his tongue is the culmination of months of watching and waiting and wanting. He wants to drown in you, he wants to rip you to shreds. No more watching you through windows, no more fucking his fist while he wishes with everything he has that it was your precious little pussy. He has you now, spread open and vulnerable. He knows he could shove your face into the pillows and let loose on you, stuff every hole with an invasive tentacle, the thought makes him even more feral, it makes him work even harder as he eats you. 

   Every roll of his tongue against your clit makes you throb and buck, which makes him growl and push you down against the mattress. He's loud and messy, slurping and moaning, letting it drip down his chin and his throat, never once letting up. 

   Your head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes drilled shut. You know damn well if you saw him, you wouldn't last another second. He builds you up until your thighs are trembling and you're a whiny little mess. 

   Perfect. 

   Suddenly, the texture of his tongue changes drastically. It's much more slippery, and much thicker. Your head shoots up, and you nearly sob at what you see. Tamaki, with his eyes wild and his jaw dropped, is letting a wicked looking tentacle hang from his mouth. 

   His quirk. 

   He smirks up at you as the tip of it writhes against your clit, flicking and circling as he watches the tears start to fall from your face. You can't possibly keep up, you didn't know anything could ever feel this good. 

   You watch the suction cups ripple as he moves the muscle against you, then he does the unthinkable. He latches one of them onto your clit. Your eyes cross and you bring a fist to your mouth so you can bite on it and muffle your screams. 

   He hates that. 

   With another rumbling growl, he lets his hands turn to tentacles as well. You watch helplessly as he snakes them up your arms, ripping your hand away from your mouth so he can pin both limbs to the bed. The tentacles are strong, surprisingly warm, and so damn slippery. 

   It's hard to tell if you're close to the edge, it's felt that way the whole time, everything feels so hot and tight and good. 

   He smiles as you cry out and thrash against the bed, full of admiration for the usefulness of his own quirk.

   “Too much! D-daddy, it’s too much.” You sniffle out as you feel a stinging feeling in your cunt, it’s not necessarily an unpleasant sting, but it’s too much.

   He ignores your objection, choosing to simply suck harder at your overstimulated sweet spot. He revels in your pitifully low threshold, planning to do so much worse to your poor, inexperienced body. 

   The ache in your cunt continues to push the tears from your eyes, and eventually, drool from your mouth. The suction cup works dutifully against your clit, making you feel so overwhelmed you don't know if you can cum. 

   Then you feel the prodding at your entrance. 

   Then you really scream. 

   Holding that one little suction cup to your clit, he snakes the tip of his tentacle into your dribbling hole. He furrows his dark brows and moans against you when he feels how tight you are, desperate to feel the velvety walls around his cock.

   "Holy fucking shit." You gasp. 

   He watches the dramatic rise and fall of your quaking chest, your baffled eyes trying to keep track of everything happening to your body, and he swears he falls even more in love. 

   You're so willing, so compliant, so at his mercy. 

   He crooks the tip of the tentacle towards himself just a bit, and it's like you've been struck by lightning. You cum hard, harder than you ever have. You're a mess of twitching limbs, shivering as your cunt clenches so hard your feel it in your fucking chest. You sob into the air, broken and tearful as he works you through it. 

   You feel the hold on your arms tighten as your body arches away from the mattress. As you feel every inch of you ignite, you know that you're ruined for everyone else. 

   As soon as you lower yourself so you're flat to the mattress, the tentacles around your arms slip away and turn back into his hands. 

   The one between your legs still plays with you a little bit, prodding at your clit, lapping up your mess. Tamaki laughs as you jump and twitch, whimpering and gasping as he milks your body for every after shock you can give him. 

   You watch him pull the tentacle back into his mouth, flicking it over his lips to gather your release before disappearing into his mouth. You watch his eyes flutter shut, you watch him shiver and you hear the sweetest little moan in the back of his throat. 

   “You’re pretty when you cry.” He mumbles, looking up at you with the most tender look in his eyes. It’s a harsh contrast with all the cum dripping down his chin. 

   “You move a lot, too. It’s fun.” He states, almost like some kind of twisted review, “I don’t mind holding you down like that.” 

   The drop in the tone of his voice makes a chill creep up your spine. 

   “In fact…” He lifts himself up so he can start to crawl up your body, “I really, really enjoyed it.”

   You gasp for words, wind stolen from your lungs as he presses his messy mouth against your sternum. 

   “Something tells me you did too.” He whispers. 

   Your voice is finally found, somewhere deep in your chest, hidden and nearly forgotten, “What makes you say that?” You ask timidly. 

   He pulls his head up to look down at you with a confident smirk, “The mess you made.” 

   To prove his point, he swipes two fingers through your folds, gathering your creamy release before holding it up to the light. He looks so damn proud, like he’s showing off. 

   “Messy girl.” He smiles, as you watch him bring his coated fingers to his lips, sucking the sin off with a greedy pop from his lips. 

   “Oh, how selfish of me.” He sighs before grabbing you by the chin, “I should share.” 

   He pulls your mouth open then slowly leans over you so he can push the mess back through his lips. You oblige like a robot, stunned by the debauchery, letting him guide you through this act. He lets it fall from his lips slowly, creating a long string from his mouth to yours. The second it hits your tongue, something clicks for you. Something dark and smokey settles in your gut, something all consuming and blinding. It rids you of boundaries and reservations, it fills you with nothing but the man in front of you. 

   He watches you with a pointed gaze, shutting your jaw for you so you can swallow what he gave you. 

   “What do you say?” He asks. 

   You feel the burn in your chest, the embers in your skin, “More, please.” 

   “Fucking hell," The words tumble out as a breath mostly, "You want more?" He questions, grabbing you by the wrist so he can place your palm just above the waist of his pants. 

   You nod up at him, vision blurred by the heat of his skin against your palm. 

   "Then take it." He leans down to say it, biting off the words. 

   A challenge. 

   You can't possibly disappoint him, you can't possibly leave him wanting. Take it? How are you supposed to take it? 

   In a wild moment of confidence, mostly your body moving without the permission of your mind, you wrap your legs around his lean hips so you can flip him onto his back. 

   Your eyes lock the second you feel him pressing against you, hard and thick, and terribly intimidating in length. 

   He watches you for a moment, then hastily grabs you by the back of the neck so he can pull you down for another kiss. It's hot and needy, full of wicked want and unabashed selfishness. It tickles your ribs, creeps up your neck, and secures itself greedily around all of your common sense. 

   Tamaki had no intentions of letting you take anything, it's a game to him. He'll let you have your moment, let you feel like you have the reigns, but he'll take it right back. His has you under control, he vows that he always will.

   Your chest flutters with a clawing, aching feeling. 

   More more more. 

   "Fuck me." It's a prayer, whimpered against his delicate lips, "Please, fuck me." You dig your hands into his hair, cherishing the sweet noises they leave him as you beg. 

   Under control.

   "Tell me you need it." He sighs, answering your prayer by sending his hands down to work urgently at his belt. 

   "Tell me you need me." 

   You bring your face back from his just enough to look into his dark eyes, and you see tears welling in them. 

   He needs to feel needed.

   "Please, I need it, I need you, Suneater." 

   Everything freezes for a brief second, the air thickens and his eyes darken as you wait with a held breath for his next move. 

   Then, everything is flying around you. You feel the bite of fingertips against your waist, your stomach hits the mattress, possibly the sound of his pants being taken off. Your senses are dulled by the raging swirl of emotions beating inside you as your hips are lifted up, and a hand shoves your face into the pillow. 

   "Who's your hero?" His voice is rough, his hand gathers your hair and cranks your head to the side, "Who is your fucking hero?" He's barking the words out now, harsh and demanding. 

   And holy hell does it get you going. 

   "You are! You're my hero, Suneater." You cry out, craning your neck to look at him. 

   You expected furrowed brows, a straight mouth and furious eyes. What you're met with is nothing of the sort. A soft pink blush across his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, tears wetting his cheek, and a quivering lip. 

   With your eyes on him, he makes a show of sliding his hand down his front so he can grab at his length. He lets it fall against your ass, heavy and painfully hard. 

   "Don't forget that." He says simply, sliding his thick head down through your slicked lips. 

   The contact makes you both shudder deep in your souls. 

   "Daddy, please." Your voice is pitiful as you fist the sheets and press back against him. 

   "So slutty." He muses, releasing your hair so he can run his nails down your back, "Poor thing, never been fucked, needs it so bad, doesn't she?" 

   You nod fervently and fuss as he presses his head against your tight hole. You tense and shiver, not at all prepared for what's to come. 

   "I need it, I need you, please please please." You have one thought now, no reservations, you need him. 

   "I'm gonna ruin this little cunt." He says, a warning tone in his voice. 

   The hand that was tracing your spine suddenly feels very cold and wet. 

   His damn quirk. 

   He takes his time, letting the thick tentacle slither around your waist. It wraps around you twice, teasing you with the pops of the suction cups, leaving pretty purple circles all over your abdomen. 

   He lifts you easily, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest. 

   "Ruin it, please, it's yours, I'm yours." You sniffle, looking down at your trapped position. 

   With a low, menacing growl, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and his cock into your heat. 

   Tamaki holds his breath, willing himself not to fill you up right this second. You're too damn tight, so warm and velvety. You're so perfect, and so completely his. 

   You sob into the air, hands reaching out to hold the headboard as you feel like you're being ripped apart. 

   "Oh don't scream, Angel, people might think something's wrong." His voice is shaking now, and the hold on your waist tightens. 

   You focus on relaxing, letting your walls lose their tension, but it's all fruitless. He's too big, he fills you too well, and all you can do is take it. 

   "Here, let me give that mouth something to do." 

   His other hand comes around to hold your throat, turning each finger into a tentacle again. It leaves you reeling and gasping as he presses further into you, wrapping what would be his middle finger around your throat. He wraps it around twice, like he did with your waist. The appendage comes up to rest its tip on your bottom lip. 

   The sensation makes you dizzy, especially when it finally snakes into your panting mouth. It doesn't really taste like anything, it just feels wet and slick, the texture of the suction cups is the strangest thing about it. He rocks his hips so gently, squeezing you tighter everywhere he's holding you. 

   You don't feel like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel like a moth caught in a spider's web. All tangled up, not willing to fight to escape, not even wanting to. 

   "You're so damn tight." He stutters out, pressing his hips flush against your own. 

   You cry out and gag against the tentacle stuffing your mouth, digging your nails into the headboard as he chuckles behind you. 

   "You're such a pretty little mess for me. Your cunt's already dripping." 

   You don't doubt it, it has to be with how badly your core aches around him as he stretches you. 

   Your thighs start to tremble as you wait for him to move, sniffling as the tears fall from your eyes and the drool spills from your lips. 

   A pretty little mess indeed. 

   Slowly, he drags his hips back with a hiss before pushing back in. He takes his time with it, building an agonizing pace that offers you no release. There's only the pressure, only your clit screaming for attention, only the maddening tease of his head against your sweet spot with every torturous push in. 

   "Fuck angel, I gotta break this pussy in, don't I?" His words pull another pitiful moan from you, nodding and whining is all you're capable of. 

   His picks up speed just enough to make you tense even more, still painful, still mind numbing. 

   "You look so fucking pretty on the end of my cock." 

   His words pour over you like hot wax, heating you up, making you drip. The heat seeps deep into your skin, making you squirm and clench. 

   He speeds his thrusting up slightly, then more, and more, and more, until you’re shrieking and choking against the tentacle stuffing your mouth. Your hands fly up to claw at it, wanting to tell him how it feels, wanting to thank him for the way he’s fucking you. 

   It’s still painful, each thrust splits you open with a sting, but it’s so damn good. The sharp stretching is absolutely spectacular, and it sends your brain into somewhere dark and smokey, it leaves you with a wide open feeling in your chest. It leaves you wanting more. 

   “What’s the matter, sweet thing?” He taunts, “Tell me about it, then, how’s Daddy make you feel?” He turns each tentacle back into a finger slowly, pulling out of your mouth, leaving you a gasping mess. 

   Through spit and tears, you praise him, words spewing out between moans as your body jolts from each punishing snap of his hips. 

   “So fucking good! You make me feel so good!” You cry, clinging to his forearm as he brings you closer to his chest. 

   The tentacle around your waist starts to slither down your stomach, “This isn’t even half of what I’m capable of doing to you,” The tip of it gives the hood of your clit a teasing flick, “-and you’re already such a slut for me.” His chuckle is dark and full as the tip of his skilled tentacle zeros in on your sweet spot, rubbing and wriggling against it until you’re screaming. 

   “Say it. Say you’re my little slut.” His words are a harsh demand against your ear, leaving no room for disobedience. 

   “I- f-fuck- I can’t! I ca-an’t!” You sob, not able to catch your breath between thrusts. 

   Tamaki eats that right up, swelling with pride as he fucks you speechless, delirious with the fact that he finally has your cunt gripping his cock. 

   Before he can bark another order at you, you finally pull the words out of your closing throat, "I'm your slut," You gasp as drool rolls down your chin, "I'm your little slut." 

   He throws his head back and throws everything he has into every thrust, his moans are obscene, high pitched and broken as he feels how hard you squeeze him when he speeds up the tip of his tentacle against your clit. 

   "Give it to me, I feel that greedy cunt tryin' to milk me, give me that fuckin cum." He huffs against your ear. Your entire body seizes up, shaking violently as ribbons of pleasure shoot through you. You pulse around Tamaki almost violently, earning some very rough sounding moans from him as he works you through it. 

   Your orgasm lasts for what feels like an eternity, you shiver with every throb of your walls. It possesses that same almost painful pleasure, and it's everything you've ever wanted. At some point, the tentacle around your waist turns to a hand, still absentmindedly rubbing you as you come down. 

   He lets your torso fall forward, leaving you bent over and exposed for him. His hands smooth over your ass, and you realize he's still so fucking hard. 

   "Can you take more, angel?"

   You nod against the tear soaked pillow you've pressed your face into, not sure that you even can, but willing to try. 

   "Good," He bends down to press kisses into your spine as he pulls out, "'Cause you're going to." 

   He pulls out, almost full of regret, wanting to live the rest of his life buried inside you.

   Now he can have some fun, mind cleared slightly by finally feeling you come undone around him. He's still hazy, still slightly frenzied, but less ravenous, less of a starved man waiting for his meal, more of a well fed man waiting for desert. 

   His hands hold your waist gently so he can guide you onto your back. You oblige, more than willing to let him have his way. 

   You finally get a good look at him, and you're astounded by just how pretty his dick looks. All pale and pink, swollen and shiny, it makes you dizzy with admiration. 

   "You're terribly beautiful." He whispers, cradling your waist so he can worship your stomach with soft kisses, "I don't believe you're even real." 

   Sweetness oozes through your tingling limbs, pouring over you like warm honey. His tender mouth brings you back down, soothes you into a state of catharsis. Your body settles, but your heart picks back up when his lips are on your hips. 

   Your eyes meet his, and you share the sentiment that he just might not be real. He pears up at you through a mess of indigo hair, eyes full of what you can only describe as devotion. 

   He explores your body with his hands, dipping his thumbs into every crook he can, palming handfuls of your plush thighs. He seems to have a soft spot for your hips though, pulling at your love handles, letting his breath speed up each time until he's panting against you. 

   With every pull of his hands, you bend for him, push into him, work with him. You both find a rhythm, falling into an easy dance of grabbing and needing. 

   "I want to keep you." He breathes, placing a hand on either side of your waist so he can lift himself over you, "I want to have you." 

   He gathers your legs while he speaks, hooking his hands under your knees so he can fold you up. 

   "You have me." You whisper, reaching out to lay your fingers on the sides of his ribs. 

   You watch his skin twitch under your touch, you watch his eyebrows sag into an almost heartbroken look. 

   He looks down between your bodies, quivering when he sees his heavy cock resting against your stomach. He feels so incredibly proud of you in that moment, for taking him so well, and asking for more. 

   She's mine. She said I have her. 

   The concept brings another wave of primal desire crashing down on his self control. 

   His fingers dig into your skin, biting at the flesh, spreading you open for him as he puts his weight on your legs. 

   You clench in anticipation, teased by the pressure of his hot length resting against you. 

   "I can take it." You say quietly, sliding your hands up his lean body so you can lace them into his inky hair. 

   He melts into your touch, stunned by your gorgeous submission. 

   "Fuck, angel." His words are shattered as they fall from his lips. 

   You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his weeping tip. He trembles and hiccups as you push him down so he's lined up with where you need him. 

   "Please, I want all of it." m. 

   “Careful.” He pants, looking down at you with a warning in his eyes. 

   It doesn’t create hesitation in you though, only curiosity. 

   “We’re being careful now?” You tease, sliding him up and down your slit. 

   “You little devil.” He hisses, grabbing your wrist harshly, “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” 

   You freeze and blink up at him, once again shocked by his quick change in temperament. 

   “You wanna act like a tease now?” He questions, bringing your hand up so he can press it into the mattress with his. 

   “Did you find yourself a cute little attitude?” His voice drips with venom, it bites at your insides and melts your skin. 

   “That’s ok, angel.” He lets your hand go so he can press on the backs of your thighs again, successfully folding you completely in half, “I’ll fuck it out of you.” 

   Before you can breathe, blink, or respond, he’s splitting you open with a brutal pace. He laughs deep in his chest when you cry out, he mocks you when your hands fly to his abs in an attempt to slow his assault. A wicked smile spreads across his pretty face when tears stain your flushed cheeks once again. 

   “Cryin’ again so soon? Is it too much, baby? You need Daddy to slow down?” He’s testing you, only thrusting harder as he taunts you for your sobbing and moaning. 

   “No!” You gasp between tears, “Don’t stop, please, fuck me like that.” 

   “That’s my girl.” 

   His thrusts are ruthless, sharp, unforgiving. He rocks your body and the bed with each plunge in, headboard crashing against the wall. Each drive into you is enchanting, it teaches you something new, opens new doors, shows you a new, brilliant world of depravity. The way the pleasure shoots all the way up your spine with every drag of his cock, it’s something you want to feel until you die, you’d even be happy if this is the way you die. 

   You watch him disappear inside of you over and over, pulling out just as quick, covered in slick and sin. Tamaki is in his own feral world, watching your lovely face crumble and pout as he fills you. His hands are angry against the back of your thighs, nails digging in hard enough to bring little pearls of scarlet to the surface. 

   When you start to whine from the sting, he flashes you a lazy smile before stuffing his fingers into your mouth. He presses the blood covered fingertips into your tongue just enough to make drool spill from the sides of your mouth. 

   “Hush, you’ll learn to love it.”

   His smile turns wolfish when he watches your eyes roll back. It’s all so black-hearted, it’s everything you’ve kept yourself from, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

   You both throb and cry then, your bodies smack as they meet, obscene and wet as you chase your undoing. Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he curses himself for it. He doesn’t want to stop, especially when you wince so sweetly when his thrusts are a little too deep. He wants to watch you suck his fingers forever, crying against his palm as he turns you into his perfect little slut. 

   “You’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you, angel? You owe me that, I saved your life after all.” He slides his fingers from your mouth, dragging your spit down your chin before grabbing you by the throat, “Answer if you can, I know it must be hard to speak when you’re getting fucked this good.” 

   His words drown you in lust, your hands claw at his back, painting angry red lines down the pretty porcelain canvas, “Take it! Fuck- Take it, Suneater, take it all.” 

   It’s not a demand, it’s a plea, it’s a craving formed deep within your freshly corrupted heart. 

   Your begging pulls desperate, whiny sounds from him. With his eyes screwed shut he lets the hand on your thigh manifest the tentacles in place of his fingers. He throws all of his energy into that, trying to stall the twitching of his dick as your hot insides massage him with their relentless pulsing.   

   “Are you sure about that?” He tests, letting the tentacles snake around your thigh before slithering down to where your bodies meet. 

   Immediately, one starts flicking at your clit, making your back go rigid as he grins down at his good work. 

   You wail his name, nails biting at his skin even more but he pays no mind. He has a mission, he’s going to take all of it. 

   He focuses on making his tentacles grow, two long enough to reach up your body and tug at your nipples, and one other snaking down through the mess you’re making to prod at your asshole. Your eyes widen with shock as your body ignites, it’s too much, it’s all too much. Every sensation is heightened, every poke and flick and thrust sends shards of pleasure flying through you, piercing you from every direction. 

   You let yourself cry completely then, throwing your head against Tamaki’s collar bone before sobbing into his chest. You know you’re cumming, you can feel it somewhere amongst all the other stimulation, but it’s nearly drowned out, and Tamaki is still fucking you just as hard as he was when this all started. 

   “More, you have more for me, I fucking know it.” He huffs as he finally pushes into your ass with the tentacle. 

   The ones on your nipples latch on with their suction cups as he fills you more and more. 

   “Give it to me, angel, give it all to your hero.” 

   That’s the final push, the last thing you need to send you into the most frenzied orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your vision goes white as your body convulses, ripped apart by the flames of euphoria that turn everything you’ve ever known to ash. Somewhere in the distance you hear Tamaki praising you, telling you how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, how good you are for him. 

   It’s lost in the fray, though, all blurring together as you shake violently around him. The only thing that brings you back slightly, is the break in his voice when he sobs, “I’m gonna stuff that little cunt with my cum, I’m gonna make you mine.”

   Your hand is at the back of his neck instantly, pulling him down for a messy, aimless kiss. His moans spill into your mouth as his hips falter, turning to slow, stuttering thrusts as he starts to pump his release deep into you. 

   “I’m yours - I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.” You chant it against his lips as his tears fall to your cheeks, mixing with your own as you both shatter for each other.

   Coming back down isn't easy at all. It's slow and needy, your hands still pulling at whatever skin they can grab, hips rolling against each other, trying with everything you both have to prolong that rapturous feeling. 

   Frantically, painfully, he pulls himself out of you. He slides his hot mouth down your body, nipping and sucking as he descends to your messy cunt. He spreads your legs wide so he can bury his face between them. He teases your clit briefly, but moves quickly to press his open mouth against your hole.

   Your skin boils as you watch the nasty show. His eyes cross sinfully and flutter shut as he tongue at your well used pussy. When he pulls back, his chin is covered in some wretched mixture of your combined releases. He moves back up your body like an animal stalking its prey.

   He grabs your jaw and you open so willingly. His mouth is on yours instantly, pushing the warm liquid onto your tongue with his own. It’s a spunky, intense flavor, almost overwhelming as he spreads it around your mouth. It creates a dark, blurry feeling in your chest, though. It makes you feel alive, it makes you want more.

   He pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva and sin connecting your lips as he pants down at you. 

   “You’re such a good little girl.” 

   His lips are everywhere, pressing against your cheekbones, your nose, your forehead. His hands return to normal so he can cradle your face. You both lay there, still joined, catching your breath. 

   "Angel?" 

   The tenderness in his voice pulls you back down to earth, and when you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in his. It’s a harsh but marvelous contrast with the sharp edges of his previous behavior.

   "Does anything h-hurt?" He asks timidly. 

   The stutter is back, the anxious look in his eyes, the restlessness in his hands. 

   You reach out to hold his face like he's holding yours, "Tamaki, no, nothing hurts. You made me feel so good." 

   You don't ever want to be a source of hesitation for him again. You want to make it better. He's brilliant, he's brave, he saved your damn life. He doesn't need to be so scared around you. 

   "You're my hero, Suneater." You pull him down for a soft, intimate kiss. 

   He breathes out against you, more of his tears wet your cheeks but you don't mind. 

   He's allowed to feel this, he earned this. 

   When the kiss breaks he searches your face, waiting for you to laugh at him, to push him off, to change your mind. 

   You don't, though. 

   You stay there with him, loving him and full of him. 

   "And you're mine." 

   You both settle there, kissing skin that hasn't been kissed before, finding ways to make each other fall even more. 

   Tamaki tells himself he did the right thing. You don't ever have to know why Dabi chose your house to break into. You don't ever need to be told that he spent endless nights watching you from the window, because he has you know. 

   It would be wrong of him to tell you, you wouldn't understand it. It would break your heart and ruin everything. Then, it would get messy. You might try to run away, and that would mean he'd have to keep you in different ways. 

   He shakes the thoughts from his head. He can keep you like this, laid out and blushing for him, so soft and beautiful. 

   You belong to him now, and that's all that there is. 

   "Can I take care of you?” He asks softly, playing with the necklace he gave you as he gives you a shy glance. 

   “You just did.” You let yourself laugh a little as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

   “No, not like that.” He smiles softly, dipping down to kiss your neck so softly you almost can’t feel it, “Like this.” 

   He presses his lips against a mark you didn’t know he made, lingering for a moment as his eyes flutter shut. 

   “These say that you’re mine.” His thumb traces over one of the circular bruises on your ribs, “They say you have someone protecting you.”

   The prospect makes your heart soar. He’s right, belonging to him means you’ll always be safe, you’ll always have somebody willing to fight for you, maybe even somebody willing to stay with you. 

   “This says that you belong to me.” He loops a finger around the delicate pearl on your necklace, pulling gently, not enough to make you go anywhere, but enough to make you feel the metal tug against the back of your neck. 

   ‘You do belong to me, don’t you.” He asks, a wild, fearful look in his eyes. 

   You do, you just told him so, you just cried to him and vowed that you were his just moments ago. 

   “I do, I belong to you, I swear.” You reassure him, pulling a deep sigh from his chest. 

   You don’t understand the way he aches for you, the way he’s addicted to you. He was already hooked, from just glances and flighty touches. Now, having felt your soft skin, the tuck of your waist, having seen you cry and heard you call his name, he’s willing to admit his obsession. 

   He does take care of you, he does it beautifully. He carries you to the bathroom where he sets you on the edge of the tub. He fills it with warm, soapy water before picking you up bridal style so he can settle into the water with you in his lap. 

   Neither of you bother to turn a light on, content with the glow of the moon shining through the skylight. Tamaki paints your shoulders with soft kisses as he rubs soothing circles into your back. He takes his sweet time, wiping away the sweat and the tears, mindful of the tender spots on the back of your thighs. 

   “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, “An angel, nothing less.” 

   You melt into him, lost in his praise, blinded by his devotion as well as your own. 

   Tamaki is just as lost, if not more, only becoming more possessive with every gentle touch, with every whispered adoration. 

   This is how it’s meant to be, and you don’t ever need to know how it all fell into place. He did the right thing, after all. This isn’t a problem, he’s in love. He’s in love and now he has you. 

   He intends on keeping it that way.