#its such a pain thinking of the three meals i Do have to make. anyway making easy meals this week bc idc and neither does he so<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[possum-tooth]

im so glad i dont have to think of meals/cook for more than my bf and i bc i think id kill myself if i had to make one more portion

[sanakimohara]

[ YOU ] PT. 2 B. C.

pairing: chan x fem! reader

summary: Stalker AU

playlist:

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + ANGST + SMUT + KIDNAPPING + STALKING + STOCKHOLM SYNDROME + CNC + MENTIONS OF MURDER + TRAUMA + CHOKING + SLIGHT EXHIBITIONISM

type: full fic / angst / smut / horror

a/n: thinking of putting this one on AO3…also did you guys watch their AMAs performance last night?

“Here, baby. It’s your favorite, just like you wanted.”

Chan’s smile stretched wider as he set the items on the table, his eyes full of obsessive warmth as he watched your every move….

Every expression you made.

Every ghost of a shiver that ran up your spine.

Three weeks into being safe and sound with him, you still hadn’t learned to trust him completely:

To completely twist yourself free from the gut-wrenching fear of him.

What would a man like Christopher Chan Bahng do if you made one wrong move, said one nasty word, or refused one of his heartfelt offerings?

You hadn't the courage to get an answer to the question.

Not yet, anyway.

Sitting there in a kitchen you’d only just learned existed down the hall from the room he’d kept you for the first week and a half felt oddly freeing.

It was one of the few places Chan let you roam around in his part-time abode -and only if he was present when you did so.

“There are rules,” he’d told you the first night, having coaxed you to listen to what he had to say if he agreed to unbind you from the bed and against your better judgment and the prying instinct to make a run for the unlocked door behind him…

You sat idly as he eased into a one-sided conversation.

“You have rules…here…with me,” Chan clarified, smiling small, but his voice still holding twinges of directness. “There’s not a lot, and I know you’ll be able to remember them. Responsible as you are…”

He trailed off, eyes softening on you as admiration clouded them.

That singular stare numbed your nerves in the moment. A blatant indication to you of how long and thoroughly he’d been watching you.

He'd been cataloging your life and all its highs and lows.

Chan knew you were responsible because he’d seen it from afar, observing how dedicated you were to keeping the shop in order when your boss wouldn’t. How you made it a point to check your surroundings every time you ventured from your apartment alone.

Now you realize you hadn't been as vigilant or responsible as you thought.

Chan intended to fix that.

Your heartbeat dropped its pace, slowing to a lowered thrum in your ears as you watched him watch you.

Expectations and boundaries spilled from his lips like all those fleeting compliments he’d given you in the record store.

“You have a beautiful smile. Adorable even…”

“Never leave this room without my permission. Everything you’ll ever need is already here, and if you don’t have it, I’ll get it for you. Just ask…”

“I like your taste in music. It’s refreshing to get someone else’s opinions…”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you. Always. So I know you’re listening and understand what I’m telling you.”

“Sorry, this may be a little forward of me, but would you like to hang out sometime?”

“You will take care of yourself. Shower, get ready, get dressed, and eat every meal I give you. No exceptions. No excuses, princess..”

“It was nice to meet you, pretty girl. I’ll give you a call later! Oh, and thanks for the help..”

“I’m doing this for your good, Y/n. All you have to do is listen…don’t think… listen to me.”

Rules.

Sweet nothings.

They mixed when Chan spoke, blending as you swallowed the urge to sob aloud while he eyed you from the edge of the bed. “Tell me you understand what I’ve said, sweetheart.” The blonde tilted his head, voice warm but expression void of lenient compassion for the pain etched across yours.

Your tongue felt drier at the moment, your head spinning, and your blood cold as you refused to speak to him.

Chan’s eyes narrowed an inch; his slight change in expression made you withdraw.

“I said tell me you understand.”

Your lips parted before you could pull your subconsciousness from the grips of instinctual survival. “Y-yes I under…under..stand…” you croaked quietly, curling in on yourself when he let his lips settle into a minuscule smirk.

“Good girl… learning so fast already…”

A knot of pure hatred mixed with an unfamiliar emotion twisted in your chest upon hearing him casually utter such a demeaning phrase.

It still rang in your head every time he was near you. That same unnamed gut feeling rooted itself in your core with each day you remained entangled in his version of contentment.

Trapping you in his sick and twisted version of a happy home.

A happy life with him and only him.

Chan sat next to you at the kitchen island, twisting his barstool to face yours. He pushed the familiar brown bag and plastic cup to you, inching closer.

“…. Just for you, like I promised.”

You didn’t move, frozen in place by practiced stubbornness and conflicted with your thoughts as you stared at the treat you’d been craving for what felt like half a lifetime…

But if you were doing your math right, counted the hours he was away, and constructed them into the time he spent with you, then that meant…

It’d been three Sundays since he’d taken you from that brick alleyway.

Three…long…tense…suffocating, and confusing …weeks.

The air under your nose wafted with the crisp tinge of warm pastry puff and strawberry filling. Your eyes settled on a dollop of whipped cream melting into the drink.

Your mouth watered, having been stripped of anything overly sweet for weeks, all thanks to Chan’s intentional and well-balanced meals for you.

What he ate, you ate.

The same went for almost anything else you’d experienced in his care.

What he laid out for you to wear, you wore.

What he watched, you watched.

What he said, you obeyed.

Weeks of falling into a nearly sunless state of compliance, unsure of how to feel about it, and even more affairs of becoming entirely comfortable with it sent your mind into a leveled frenzy.

You were beginning to feel odd…

Longing to hear Chan’s keys jingle from down the hall, and his footsteps echoing closer to the locked door of your room, rather than fearing the sounds.

You looked forward to seeing him after hours of being kept alone in a room with only a stack of books to read, a pad of paper and pen, and a strange amount of various stuffed animals to keep you company. Once or twice, you caught yourself beginning to smile when you saw him slip into your room after unlocking it. He greeted you every time, inviting you out of the room for two hours until dinner -which promptly occurred at 10 PM every night.

A twisted sense of security wrestled itself into your psyche. Your heart switched between racing in fear and slowing from unconscious infatuation. Your breaths came easier, and your body relaxed a tad more in his presence.

It was…

Alarming.

So much so that the moment Chan stopped mid-step on his way out of your room for the night before to ask you a question, your sensible train of thought nearly reignited.

Unfortunately, that trickle of sense fizzled back into a fog of conscious paralysis, hearing his voice envelop the room.

“Anything in particular you want tomorrow?”

You swallow hard, slipping underneath the heavy duvet before answering him quietly.

“What..? What do you mean?..”

That is a fair question.

Chan didn't blame you for asking it and was unsure whether to proceed with his offer.

But the pure, unguarded curiosity in your eyes and expression made him continue. “Is there anything special you’d like to have?..” he clarified.

You still said nothing.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before showing a tender smile as if he’d become embarrassed of having to explain his sudden thoughtfulness.

“Think of it like a gift from me to you, princess. Something special since you’ve been so …”

He paused, eyes lowering from your face for a moment, momentarily distant as they settled on the cover pulled over your knees and to your chest.

The straps of the cream-colored chiffon night dress he’d picked out for you that night lowered from your shoulder as you shifted, waiting to hear the rest of his reasoning, and Chan reluctantly drew his gaze back up to your face.

“Good for me…” he clarified under a heavy breath, glad the door partially hid the hardening in his crotch from your wandering eyes.

“I can have..anything?” You pried for options, having narrowed the most apparent forms of escape or attempt at communication with the outside world out of the realm of possibilities.

Chan was an intelligent man.

A highly intuitive one at that.

A man who paid attention to the most minor details. Obvious or not.

Getting anything past him felt like running into a cement wall and hoping it’d eventually vanish and let you pass.

It wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

When you caught his slow nod of approval at your question, you decided that asking a small, harmless question would be a safe decision.

“I want something from the cafe….please…the one I used to. “

“Yeah, no. I remember which one it is, sweetheart….” Chan cut into your response, mind wandering to dangerous places, watching you sink further into the corners and set your doe eyes on him as you did.

It’s sickened him to some degree how hot his blood ran seeing you vulnerable and comfortable all at once in his presence.

There wasn’t a chance in the world he’d be able to keep his hands off you for another week if you kept affecting him this way. Chan purposefully attempted to avoid the feeling, but there was only so much he could do before everything you did affected him.

Called to him…

Begged for him…

God, he wanted to hear you beg for him…

Scream for him…

Chan sucked in a quick breath, head leaning on the doorframe as he shut his eyes and mumbled back to you, “I’ll bring you something from there in the morning. Night, princess..”

And then he was gone again.

You slept a little easier last night, hoping his gesture of intentional goodwill was a sign he was starting to regret his actions. Still, now that hope died in your chest, seeing the pure content on his face as he observed you tentatively reaching for the pastry and latte he'd brought back just for you.

Chan was never going to feel guilty.

Not when everything was perfect between you, especially for him.

The pastry melted on your tongue, warm and sweet but barely easing the weight in your chest, sensing Chan’s gaze on you. Every bite you took was less and less soothing, hardly washed down any more accessible with the few sips of cold caffeine you took between each one, but you refused to give him any more signs of your distress.

If you did, it always seemed to go straight to his head.

Chan fed off of it.

You’d learned that much about him in less than a week.

Despite his constant attempts at heartfelt kindness, your fear of him was his fix.

What a sick bastard…

You swallowed the last bite of the pastry as the thought crossed your mind, crumpling up the parchment it was wrapped in before dropping it into the bag but leaving the half-full cup alone.

“Thank you,” you forced a smile, hints of genuine gratitude coaxing the pleasant expression onto your face, but it was short-lived as Chan shook his head. “Finish all of it,” he instructed, nudging the cup closer to you without glancing at it. “Don’t waste what I give you…”

You stiffen in your seat, “I’m fine. I've had enough, really-“

Your lips immediately pressed shut when he stood, closing in on you until your head lulled back to keep him in your sight. Chan stared down at you, right hand raised to brush across your cheek, and the left picking the latte up from the counter. Every nerve you had spanned to life, chills rising on your skin as he invaded your space and fixed you in place with a void glare.

Chan exhaled slowly, reducing the anger he felt when you refused his demand and replacing it with a controlled ease. “I took time out of my day to get you something special, and I expect you to appreciate it. Open up…” his hand falls to cup your chin, grip tight and promising. You swallow hard, eyes dilating with anxiety as he applies more pressure, progressing until you utter a whine of pain and let your mouth fall slack. “Atta girl…” Chan praises under his breath, caging you in the seat and easing the drink to your parted lips.

Your stomach drops, feeling helpless as he forces you to gulp down the remaining half of the cold caffeinated drink. Your legs twitch and shift between his, nails clawing at the sheer stockings covering your thighs underneath the sweater you wore, and your breaths struggle to remain constant as the liquid pours down your throat and from the corner of your lips.

His hold on your jaw is painful but not as tortuous as the thoughts racing through your mind as you peer up at him through teary eyes.

It hurts, but it feels so…

Why won’t he stop…? Do I want him to…stop?…

You choked as the last drops of the latte drizzled onto your tongue, gasping for air quietly as he released your jaw and tapped your cheek gently. A phantom of pain blooms on your skin, disappearing seconds after the tender slap occurs but snapping you back to reality to hear him speak.

“I need you wide awake for me today. Can’t have you looking too tired when Bin comes over for a visit.”

You stare at him, half dizzy and confused, hearing him mention another’s name.

He hadn’t mentioned his friends, family, or acquaintances before…

Though your throat still burned and your eyes had yet to un-blur completely, you asked, “W-who’s Bin?”…”

Chan smiled, gently kissing your nose since you weren’t in any shape to reel away from him like you had before. Your face warmed from the gesture, your heart fluttering a bit as the distinct feeling of his lips brushing your skin was mildly delightful.

“He's a good friend of mine. Someone I work with often, too. I think you’ll like him a lot.”

Your lips twitched into a timid smile, a mix of relief and desire hanging over your head. “I…I can't wait to meet him. " You shifted around, swiping the back of your right hand across your damp lips to wipe away the coffee left on them and swiftly cover the vague happiness that begged to show itself.

Maybe this ‘Bin’ could be your way out of all of this - a saving grace from the hell you were beginning to settle into.

“Good. Now, get cleaned up. He’ll be here soon.” Chan lifts you from the chair, steadying your drowsy weight against him for a moment before you give him a solemn nod and carefully step past him. An array of ideas starts to cloud your head, gathering traction and precedence over any other thought you have, but they're shattered to pieces when Chan calls out to you from the kitchen.

“Y/n..”

You freeze, hand pressed to the corner of the hallway for support as you peer at him over your shoulder.” Yes?...” you breathe out, uneased by the pleasant smile he flashes you before leaning against the center island. " Don't try anything cute when he's here. Asking for his help won't change a thing.”

“I won’t…”

God fucking damn it-

The sound of another’s voice from down the hall catches your attention, melting into laughter and warm words toward your captor a moment later.

‘Bin’ must be here…

You sniffle at the realization, dabbing the damp white cloth over your mouth several times before rinsing and wringing it out into the bathroom sink. Droplets of caramel coffee swirled down the drain, disappearing like your will to escape began to. Chan’s warning to you was a simple threat—a nicely put one but still a promise of consequences to your preemptive attempts for escape.

A lump settled in your throat as you stared in the mirror above the sink, silently trying to convince your reflection that everything was fine.

That you’d find a way out of this soon.

You wanted to believe the determination written across your features would remain, but it consciously vanished when you quietly stepped out of the bathroom and down the dim hallway. You came to a stop at the hall's edge, peeking from behind it to glimpse at the man Chan seemed to be enjoying a conversation with.

He had black hair, and he was around Chan’s height, too, but a bit more muscled than him. And he sounded pleasant, but by now, you’d learned that assuming a stranger's length of kindness by their words was never a good idea.

With pursed lips and a soft gulp, you shifted to hide behind the corner again, unnerved by the prospect of meeting anyone who took to Chan’s company and afraid of having to endure meeting them yourself without the chance to beg for their help to get away from him.

“Shff..*

Your stockings brush along the floor, catching Chan’s attention and bringing his conversation with Changbin to a sudden halt. He glanced at the corner you hid behind, watching Changbin do the same before saying anything. “Baby, come here. Could you introduce yourself to my friend? Don’t be shy..”

You swallow a groan, peeking around the corner again as if he hadn’t caught your presence already, “H-Hi…” you greet the man sitting across from him in the living room.

Chan shakes his head, eyeing you intently. “Don’t be rude, princess. Come out here and meet him.” Changbin laughs, smiling warmly as he shifts in his seat to see your hidden form better. “I swear I don’t bite:” he joked.

Oh…

He seems harmless, but still...

Your heart jumps with a sense of joy you thought had been snuffed out weeks ago. Warmth floods your cheeks, and seeing him stretch out a hand for you to shake is an added sign of goodwill from him.

“Okay…” you mumble, slipping from the hallway to tentatively shake his hand before repeating your greeting upfront. “Hi.”

Changbin chuckled, his brows raising a bit. “I’m Changbin, and you are? " He seemed genuinely intrigued, glancing between you and Chan before the latter cleared his throat.

“Bin, this is Y/n, the girl I told you about…”

“Oh,” Changbin grinned, holding your hand longer than needed as he stared up at you. “She is cute. No wonder you talk about her so much. " He met your lowered eyes, offering a warm smile you barely returned before retracting his hand from yours. “Wait, how long did you say you’ve been together?”

Chan sighed, shrugging at the question despite knowing its exact answer.

Three weeks, sixteen hours, and forty-three minutes is how long you’d been trapped in his sick fantasy.

He’d been counting every second, and now you were, too.

“Six months next week, Bin.”

“And you've already moved in with him? Must be love at first sight…” Changbin looked between you both, ignoring your aversion to looking at Chan directly or oblivious to the tension between you two.

You didn't answer him, lips pressed shut, and your hands nervously twiddling behind your back. Chan answered for you, rising from his spot on the couch to pat Changbin’s stout shoulder as he came to stand by your side. “Must be. Right, sweetheart?” The skin of your lower back gathers goosebumps, feeling his hand firmly plant itself there, thumb tracing the trial of your spine as he eases you closer to him. Your tongue falls flat in your mouth, your body weak and tense all at once from the weight of his touch. Afraid to use your voice without letting out an unseemly sound, you give a gentle no, eyes fluttering between Changbin and Chan, who smile at your silent agreement.

“Are you always this quiet around strangers?” Changbin chuckles, and you embarrassingly shake your head, pressing against Chan’s side as he speaks for you. “Or maybe you're just really loud,” he retorts, inwardly brimming with pride, feeling your body shift towards his for comfort.

Finally.

You were learning to trust him.

To depend on him.

Changbin rolls his eyes, his mouth ticking into an unaffected smirk. “I'm the right amount loud. Otherwise, your tracks would only get so far.” Chan’s body goes rigid at the teasing jab, startling you when his grip on your lower back shifts to your hip to knead the soft skin. You whine quietly as his fingertips bare down on the muscle. The hold grounds him but unnerved you.

He was upset.

That much you could tell, but Chan didn't let anger cloud his features, shrugging off Changbin’s usual innocent jabs at him, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bin. “

Said man huffs, staring at Chan for a few seconds before returning to you. “Want to join us for a little bit? I know Chan says you like to spend your free time alone doing your own thing, but since you're here-”

“I’d love to!” Your mouth moves before your mind computes a careful response, growing into a sheepish smile as Changbin laughs at your impulsive reaction. Conversely, Chan seems stiffer by the second, not angered but vaguely displeased.

You ignored it, forcing your nerves to settle despite feeling the air around him thicken with masked tension. “So, what were two talking about earlier? From what I heard, it sounded like a fun conversation.” You smile at Changbin, hoping he'll see the desperation hidden in your eyes as you slip away from Chan and hurry to sit beside him on the sofa.

You're too close to him.

He's too close to you.

That's your first strike, and you don't even realize it.

Chan makes no move to point out your blatant mistake, either. His expression slips into a hardened glare as the two of you converse without him. His eyes burn into the side of your head, fixated on every fluctuating reaction you have to Changbin.

The spark of yearning that returns to your pretty eyes as they focus on him.

The gentle nods you give while he speaks.

How you are a bit closer to him when an intriguing topic extends itself.

Every little thing begins to irritate Chan.

You'd been huddled close to him only a minute ago like a trapped mouse, scared of a stranger and seeking his protection...

And now, here you are, eating up anything and everything his Changbin did or said.

Ungrateful.

Disrespectful.

A little liar is what you were.

Chan couldn't look past it, even as the hours ticked by. He joined in the pleasant conversations that dwindled into laughter over several shared take-out dishes, but he refused to give you the benefit of the doubt any longer. Barely tempering his envy of the attention and comfort you shared with Changbin when he'd done everything for you to earn such things for himself.

So ungrateful.

So fucking needy for another man's attention…

Chan counted down the seconds until Changbin’s phone rang half past one in the morning, vibrating on the glass coffee table you sat in front of with him.

“Hold on. Let me get this real quick,” Changbin said, snatching his phone from the table. He offered you a kind and apologetic smile to make up for shortening your moving conversation. “It's okay,” you mouthed, hands raised to wave off his unneeded reasoning as you watched him stand up to take the call in the hallway. Changbin ruffled his free hand through your hair, giving a silent ‘thank you’ on his way out of the room, flashing Chan a cheeky grin as he disappeared around the corner.

You stared at the empty spot next to you, still reeling through ideas of how to gain Changhins help or at least convince him to let you use his phone without Chan knowing…

But the blonde hadn't left you alone or taken his eyes off you and Changbin for a second the entire time he was there. If anything, Chan watched you painfully closer, looming like a shadow in every interaction and a little too good at insulating you had a healthy, willing, and established relationship with him.

Even if that was the furthest thing from the truth.

Nonetheless, Changbin hadn't shown any signs of recognizing the reality of your unwanted arrangement. You had no chance to subtly hint at it to him, aware of Chan’s vigilance even when he wasn't directly involved in the friendly exchanges.

You'd more than once caught him staring you down, arms folded over his chest, and his jaw set into a tight angle. A shiver ran up your spine every time you caught the look in his eyes.

How cold those brown irises turned, filling with deepening jealousy.

If you hadn't felt trapped and endangered before…

You felt that way now.

Your gaze refused to shift from the carport you sat on, hands twiddling in your lap as your heart raced a little faster second by second.

“You think I'm stupid, baby girl?”

You immediately shake your head ‘no’ as he speaks under the distant sound of Changbin’s ongoing phone call.

Chan scoffs, his head ticking once, and bites back with a wry smile. “Hm. So, she's a fucking liar too…”

It's a statement—an observation he's made, and you cannot deny it.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, lodged there as you shake your head again and finally set your eyes on his.

“Chan, please...I’m not-“

“Shut up.”

Silence.

The moment his command hits your burning ears, a cold, heavy, and suffocating silence blankets the room. He lets it settle, holding your doe-eyed stare with a sharp glare. “Come here.”

Your hands freeze, tears welling in your eyes, but you blink them away.

Crying never works on Chan.

Never.

Your head lowers as you shift onto your knees and grip the coffee table's edge to stand up, a tremble catching your fingers as the cold glass amplifies the heat of anxiety taking over you.

“No,” Chan seethes out, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, head resting against his left hand as the right beckons you toward him, familiar veins contracting through them from the subtle gestures he makes.“Crawl.”

You swallow like he's shoved a lead pill down your throat by voicing the command, frozen in thinly veiled hesitancy as he waits for you to follow it.

The last remnants of pride and brimming hope melt away from you, drained out of your body as it shifts back from the edge of the table and onto the floor again. Chan watches you lower down to be on your hands and knees, your soft cheeks dampening with a few stray tears as you crawl towards him with timid caution in every move you make. The heat you feel rises to your face, painting it a solemn red when you settle between his legs. Chan plants his feet, making room for you and quickly locking you in his range.

“Turn around,” he whispers, left index finger making a small circle to emphasize the instruction. Slowly, you shift to face away from him, pleading with an invisible force to ease your panic, unable to see what he will do and anticipate when he’ll do so.

Chan hadn’t raised a hand to you. Not once.

He could be rough, drag, and move you with pointed strength when he felt you needed a firmer guide, but hitting you?

Never.

Him showing any sign of brute physicality towards you?

Never.

You’d begun to realize Chan didn’t need to exert force, always expressing it in his words, expressions, and acts of service rather than using violence.

So, your fear -that swirling and dizzying uncertainty you’d felt for weeks- stemmed from a much deeper and deranged concept your mind had conjured up.

You weren’t afraid of Chan.

No…

You were terrified of just how far and how many demented things you’d be willing to let him do to you…

Even if he’d cornered you into them.

Forced you.

You wanted him to do that on a certain level of consciousness. To give up fighting his insistence on loving you his way and bask in it for as long as he’d let you.

You’d begun dreaming about it day and night. Constantly fantasizing about him when you should hate him with every breath you take.

God, you wanted to hate him, claw at him, make him feel the pain you felt sitting alone in the room he kept you locked away in.

But the moment Chan’s breath spanned the nape of your neck, warm and slow as he breathed you in from behind, your head was empty of malicious intent towards him. All you could focus on was him: the smell of his cologne, the heat from his body, and the quiet hum of his satisfaction that seeped straight through your reddened ears down to the space between your legs.

His voice alone made you ache in a way you refused to acknowledge.

You pressed your thighs together, praying the steady pulse in your core would vanish if you tried hard enough to hide it.

You should’ve known better than to hope for any small triumph of self-control being near Chan because the second he saw you tense up and circle your hips, he tugged you back into him.

His left hand grasps the tousled hair at the back of your head, pulling and twisting, while the right grips your throat. A soft gasp of pain and moderate shock left your lips as he reared your head backward with a rough force on your hair, muffling the surprised sighs you let out by pressing the pads of his fingers directly against the nerves of your neck. Chan left you no choice but to inhale sharply through your nose, eyes trained on the twists and turns of your expression while his own remained inches wholly and away stoic.

You clawed at his right hand on intuition, longing for the burning need for air to settle into your lungs. Helpless abs, afraid of your excitement, you struggled against his hold on you, eyes shut tight when he choked you harder and grazed his nose along your cheek until he reached your ear. His lips pressed into a smile, lingering over the sensitive skin as he spoke to you. “I don’t want to hurt you…but,” he exhales, something kin to a groan falling from his mouth before he continues, “…I can’t keep letting you get away with this, baby girl.”

You shudder, stifling a frustrated whimper as Chan places a chaste kiss on the tip of your ear, nuzzling your head with his own as his proper slips under your ankle and forces it apart from your left one—immediate defiance courses through you being put into a new, compromising position.

Held tight against him, barely able to breathe, and legs now spread for him to see what you’d been trying to hide for nearly two weeks.

Clear evidence of how badly you wanted him.

How far you’d fallen into craving him.

Your heart stopped dead in its tracks as cool air enveloped the forming wet patch on your sheer rose pink underwear, barely hidden under the hem of your skirt. Chan whistled lowly at the sight, staring down at the evident mess you were making of yourself.

“Get a look at that, Princess…” he taunted you in a daze, watching your hips twist and buck as you tried to close your legs again and break away from him, but Chan held you steady the more you fought him.

The tears you fought so hard to hold back began to slip past your flutter lashes, dampening your burning cheeks and drizzling down to coat the veiny hand, practically suffocating you. “No…stop…I-it’s not…“ you stumbled to find an excuse, something to say that’d convince him and yourself that your arousal wasn’t natural.

But it was.

And it was thriving by the minute.

Chan bit into his lower lip, glancing over at the corner Changbin had yet to come walking around.

You could faintly hear the other man still speaking to whoever had called him but instantly pushed his princes to the back of your mind, hearing Chan’s voice melt through the air around you. “What am I going to do with you, pretty girl?” He muses, formulating answers to his question while you shiver at its implications. “You’ve been so good, too..” his praise warms your core, numbing your mind as he builds upon it.

“Doing whatever I tell you…” Chan smiles, gaze trained between the hallway entry and your vulnerable position. “Treating yourself better..”

You whine at that, feeling picked apart and full of yourself all at once by him.

“Being the good girl I knew you could be for me,” Chan mutters, his voice warm as new honey and his hand slowly shifting downward in your hair.

Past the nape of your neck, over your shoulder, down to your chest. You tense under his traveling touch, unconsciously arching up against the palm of his heavy hand as it gently kneads your left breast before attending to the right in the same manner.

Your head leers into his shoulder relaxed against the tight muscle he keeps hidden by a black shirt. A soft moan escaped your lips as they parted to attempt to catch a new breath, muffled by the crook of his neck as you inched closer to him the longer he shamelessly groped your chest.

Chan tongued his cheek, feeling your breathy moans fan over his skin, sending rivers of heat down his back, urging him to slip his hand under the hem of the lacey white camisole you wore. “I was so proud of you, baby girl…” he chuckled, eyes cutting towards the hall again before he pushed the half excuse for a shirt up above your perked breasts. You flinched, startled by his intent to fully expose you when his friend was just down the hall, but Chan wasn’t the slightest remorseful or cautious as he palmed your chest. He took his time, thumb rolling over around each of your nipples, slipping to knead your stomach when you arched for more.

“So…so proud,” he mumbles, studying the quick rise and fall of your chest as you try to breathe normally, hands moving to grip your forearm and wrist for a sense of support as he tortures your resolve. “Chan…Chan…please… sorry…I..” you give up speaking, too all over the place mentally to get a coherent sentence out, and ready to accept your fate in any way he gave it to you.

“But I guess even the best of girls need a little reminder, yeah?” Chan peers into your eyes, smiling softly and vaguely playful, but his tone is the furthest thing from it. You shake your head, brows knitting together in desperation. “No!” Chan, please…please, I promise…I’ll be good… I-I promise..”

Your pleading sinks into the room in hushed whispers, scarcely heard by anyone but him, and you watch his expression soften hearing it.

Was that…

Pity…?

Guilt?..

You couldn’t quite place the look on his face as he stared at you, but seconds later, it vanished, replaced with a smile you knew meant nothing good for you.

“I wish I could believe you, baby. I do, but you’ve earned exactly what’s coming to you.”

Chan exhales slowly, letting the hand he has splayed across your stomach inch further down to firmly cup your covered cunt and press his palm against the patch of cum spreading in the thin fabric covering it. You gasped loudly at the contact, hoping Changbin didn’t hear the lewd sound as it dwindled into a low whine.

Chan soaks in your visceral reaction to being touched indirectly, pressing his middle and ring finger into your underwear until he can feel the warmth of your cunt cover then and leak with pent-up arousal. You bit back a strangled scream at the intrusion, reveling in it and greedily rolling your hips forward against his hand for more. The tips of your toes curled through the thigh-high socks you wore because he seemed to like seeing you in them.

Your legs fell further apart, trembling with pleasure as he pumped his thick fingers into your fluttering cunt, soaking them and your ultimately useless panties in cum, and only stopping when the sound of Changbin’s footsteps came from down the hall.

Chan huffed, openly disappointed by the oncoming disruption but content with the state he’d put you in.

“The minute he leaves, you’re mine.” He groans into your ear, releasing you from his hold and readjusting your skirt and shirt before he helps you sit up straight. You blush, rightfully speechless, while he runs a hand through your hair to fix it just as Changbin rounds the corner.

a/n: I have such an intense migraine and it’s killing meeee

other links: n/a yet…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Sluttiest thing this man has ever done is that dammed teaser skit with that obnoxious ass stare and deep voice combo. He looked way too fine with that mask on and he knew it!!! 🖤 credits to creator!

[detectivestucks]

Friday Night Fights

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: Work is getting stressful and during your weekly hang with Kakashi he finally unleashes all of that stress on your body.

Warnings: NSFW, Hard Dom Kakashi, Degrading, BDSM, Body Piercings, Squirting, Oral, Unprotected Penetration

Word Count: 5.7k

Anon Ask

Running the metal ball along the roof of your mouth, you play with your tongue piercing while you think. You’re reading over the files your team gave to you for revision. It’s near the end of the fiscal year and you are desperately trying to concentrate. Now that you were a team lead, you had more responsibility than you wanted. You really only took the promotion for the pay. Looking over at the stacks of paper in each corner of your desk, you remember how fun it was last year when you were a normal agent. Responsible for nothing and just having fun working with your two friends.

Three years ago you started at your current job. During your training class you made fast friends with Rin and Kakashi. The three of you spent all of your breaks and meals together. After the second day, you exchanged numbers and made a group chat specifically for your inside jokes about management. Then by the end of your first week your trio started a weekly ritual of hanging out every Friday for what you dubbed ‘Friday Night Fights.’

Each week you rotated who’s house you went too. The host being responsible for the evening’s food. The other two, responsible for the entertainment. Usually it was a movie or some kind of game. One of your favorite nights was when the three of you played twister. Rin had to reach her right foot to red and ended up sweeping your leg causing you to fall on top of her and accidentally hitting Kakashi’s face on your descent. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him more angry than when he thought his handsome face might’ve been blemished by your loss.

“Relax pretty boy. Women like scars”

Eventually though, life caught up with you. Kakashi switched departments and you got a promotion within your current one. Rin found a job in her field and you saw her less. Now she only comes to Friday Night Fights once a month, if that. Most of the time it was just you and Kakashi. The games became less frequent and Netflix began to take its place. The vibe shifted from wholesome fun to a flirty standoff between the two of you. Unsure if you want to cross the line from friends to more, even though you were definitely slipping down that slope already.

The last few weeks Friday Night Fights was essential for both you and Kakashi cause work was such a pain. The end of the fiscal year was upon you and there was a lot of pressure to close every project your team had been working on. The final profit report was due and your budget for the next year had to be submitted and reviewed.

Kakashi’s department was just as bad. It didn’t help that he was always going toe to toe with his boss cause she never did the projects correctly and always relied on him to fix it for her. She refused to listen to his advice ahead of time and only seemed to need his opinion a week before anything was due. The helplessness drove him mad.

“She literally dropped the same stack of reports on my desk that I told her last week needed to be itemized! Now I have to sort through two hundred accounts and pull up the breakdown of the services rendered by next Thursday!”

“Why don’t you come back to my department?”

“Cause I don’t wanna lose the pay. It’s not like they’ll give me a team lead role after a year of being in another department.”

“True. Maybe you should just take Val’s job.”

“Seriously. She makes me wanna choke someone out. How did someone so irresponsible become a senior manager anyways? It pisses me off.”

“Nepotism probably. Or maybe she slept her way to the top.”

“Har har. Wish I could sleep my way to the top.”

“Have you seen yourself? You definitely could.”

Kakashi shoots you a look. “Val’s manager is a guy.”

“And you could turn ‘im.”

Kakashi playfully smacks your ass while you finish cooking in the kitchen. You were craving strip steak so you splurged a little this week.

“What’s the occasion anyways?”

“The occasion is called self care. Work sucks this month and we still have a week to go. I wanna treat myself. Just count yourself lucky that I included you.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t have shared.”

“I don’t know, I’m a pretty selfish person.”

“Oh please, you're literally the nicest person at the company. You can’t say no to anyone.”

“Hey! I can say no.”

“Psh, yeah right. You’re a textbook people pleaser. That’s why you’re so stressed.”

“Maybe I’m stressed cause my best friend is making wild accusations.”

“Wild?! Hello Y/N, meet delusion.”

“Fuck off!”

Kakashi slaps your ass again before pushing himself off the counter to go look for plates.

“Can you grab the fancy napkins out of the towel drawer?”

“You wanna use cloth napkins?” he says in an almost mocking tone

“Yes. It’s been a shitty week. I wanna be fancy. Sue me.”

Kakashi nearly rolls his eyes as he grabs the restaurant quality napkins from the drawer. You wanted to be fancy yet he knew for a fact you wouldn’t be eating at the table. You plate the meal and grab your ‘fancy’ glass of boxed wine before heading to the living room.

The two of you sit on the couch and eat the potatoes and steak while Kakashi turns on “10 Things I Hate About You.” He always was a sucker for chick flicks which was one of your favorite parts of his personality. You find yourself leaning against him after your plates have been discarded to the coffee table, cleaned of their contents, napkins on top.

Near the end of the movie Kakashi gets a text. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and the title of the sender says ‘Val my Boss’ ‘Bitch’

Come in two hours early on Monday to get started on those invoices

Kakashi closes his phone without responding and throws it down on the couch.

“Everything okay?”

“It wants me there two hours early on Monday”

“That sucks! She’s the worst.”

“Fuckin sick of her”

“On the bright side, you get overtime pay.”

Kakashi scowls at you. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

You nuzzle into him some more. “I was just trying to cheer you up. You don’t have to be annoying about it.”

Something in Kakashi snaps. He turns to grab you. Fingers closing around your throat, “Don’t call me annoying. Didn’t anyone teach you that name calling was rude.”

In your surprise, you felt a jolt of excitement between your legs. You let out a little whimper and the sound was so gratifying that Kakashi lifted his fingers lightly just to regrip your neck and squeeze harder. He shifts his weight so he is fully facing you, leaning inches from your face.

“Maybe I need to teach you some manners.”

You silently nod as you look at him, eyes getting lost in his, excitement coursing through your body. He pulls you forward by your neck and kisses you, immediately shoving his tongue in your mouth. You moan. Your hands fly up to his hair, lightly pulling at the soft tresses. Kakashi mounts you, straddling you so you can’t run from him, not that you would. One hand on your throat, the other behind your head, pushing your face against his.

The heat between you had been building for the better part of a year. You had been imagining this moment for a while but never did you picture him choking you. It must’ve been your lucky day cause the choking was leaps and bounds hotter than any scenario you had imagined.

You push your tongue past his lips and rub your piercing along his inner gum line. Kakashi groans into your mouth, gently nibbling on the muscle between his teeth. You playfully flick the ball of your piercing along the roof of his mouth. He squeezes your neck harder and leans back.

“Shit Y/N, that’s fucking hot.”

He goes back to sucking on your bottom lip while you nibble on his upper one, each getting toothy with the other, slowly starting to pull on each other’s hair more with each passing second.

Suddenly it occurs to you that you might be ruining your friendship and things could be weird after this. You don’t wanna lose your best friend.

“Wait Kash, should we be doing this?”

Kakashi leans back, taking his hands off of you. For a millisecond you regret your words. You want this. You want him. Why the fuck did you stop it? But then you see him reach for his belt buckle and you exhale. You see him undo the clasp, pulling it out from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m so sick and tired of women telling me what to do.”

He wraps the belt around your wrists and tugs at the excess length, lifting your hands up and behind your head, elbows bent at the ears, his arm behind your back as his other hand comes up to your jaw. In a menacing tone he smoothly leans in to give you a piece of his mind.

“How about for once, one of you shuts up, and do what I tell you to do for a change?”

The question nearly knocks the wind out of you. You can feel your underwear soak. The sternness in his voice made you instinctually slip out the words,

“Yes sir”

You part your lips and he's back at them, playing with your piercing before you push it back into his mouth to keep running the metallic ball along his interior. You really were a textbook people pleaser.

The hungry moan from his mouth falls into yours. You want nothing more than for him to spend hours here in this very position but it’s not up to you. It’s up to him to decide how long you are to receive his lips. Which to your disappointment, is not very long.

He gets up off of you and yanks on the end of the belt so that you are forced to lie down on the couch. He slips his hand out from under your back but your body weight on the end of the tether keeps your hands in position. He’s on top of you once more and you can feel his erection through his pants. Your eyes shift down to gaze at the bulge when he distracts you.

Kakashi reaches for the hem of your tight tank and pulls it over your head so that your face is trapped under the fabric. He pulls up your sports bra allowing your chest to fall out of the support. You hear his growl as his eyes fall on your tits. To his excitement you’ve been keeping a naughty secret from him. Each peak lay trapped between two black cones. You had pierced your nipples as well as your tongue.

“Oh I’m gonna have fun with you.”

Oh gods I hope so…

Kakashi dragged his tongue tantalizingly slow over each bud. They were more erect than usual from the hauntingly beautiful man kneeling over you. He lapped at your right nipple, letting his lower lip catch on the jewelry earning a gasp from you.

“F-fuck Kashi.”

Grabbing your breasts with both hands, Kakashi went back and forth sucking on each peak, tugging on your piercing, then blowing cold air on the wet tip before switching over to the other. Your back arched up towards him involuntarily. You wished you could have watched him play with you but instead you were trapped in your own shirt waiting for Kakashi to let you see.

When Kakashi started biting down on your nipples you moaned loudly at the pain. He was enjoying your piercings too much. They already made you more sensitive on a daily basis and now he was out to torture you for his own fun. You started to squirm under him and he slapped down on your tit.

“Ah”

“Be still”

He barked, but he didn’t actually want you to be still. He just wanted to see your internal struggle. He wanted to wreak havoc over your body the way his bitch of a boss was wreaking havoc over his life. For once he was in control and he loved it.

You rubbed your legs together, the arousal you felt was too much. You craved relief.

“Kashi” you whine

“Fine slut, here.” he switched your legs so instead of being under him they were wrapped around his waist.

“Grind on me and make yourself cum.”

You obey, glad to get some alleviation from the flood of need consuming you as his muscle continues to glide over your peaks, tugging and rubbing on the black hardwear. The sensation in your nipples tingling down to the nerves between your legs, rubbing heavily on Kakashi’s lap. You push into his clothed erection, creating heat from the friction. You feel the desire building as you get reprieve where you need it. Little gasps and moans generate under the shirt, as your core works to roll your hips up and down on him.

“Mmmm, keep going little slut. Show me how much you want to get fucked.”

He tugs particularly hard on your nipple as you try to reply

“Gahhh! Yes sir.”

He wished he could see how your face scrunched up as he played with his new favorite toys but there was just something so sexy about you being trapped in your shirt. It made him want to take advantage of you. Like you were some pathetic weakling, waiting for him to destroy you.

You grind more desperately, feeling close to a release. Kakashi begins to mark your chest while his fingers pinch and play with your nipples. He was driving you insane. Your mind clouding as your hips frenzied up and down along the bulge in his pants. Breath becoming labored as you frantically chased your orgasm.

Kakashi released his lips from your skin, satisfied with his artwork but fingers still playing with your tips.

“That’s it. I know you’re close. Show me how much you want me to stuff you.”

“Yes! Yes sir, yes!”

Kakashi was so tempted to grab your hips and finish the job but he held himself back. There was plenty of time left to manipulate you. This was you earning it. To keep his hands busy he brought one back up to your neck, bearing down on your windpipe while the other found the belt, giving it another tug to keep your hands under your shoulder blades.

You slowed your strokes making them big and heavy, tugging your lips through your pants and soon he could feel you shiver against him.

“Did the little slut make herself cum?”

“Mhm” you whine under your shirt.

“Good job” he praises with another swat to your chest.

Kakashi begins to rip down your pants, spitting on your pussy before giving it a wack of his palm. He then pulls the neck of your shirt above your face so that it is still binding your arms together but now you can at least see.

He stands up and begins to shed his clothes. You watch, mesmerized by his towering figure. His work at the gym was yielding mouth watering results and you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking. You wanted to lick between each muscle and leave bruises all along his abdominals the way he marked your tits.

“Lets put this mouth to better use, hmm?”

You nod, looking up through your lashes at him.

“On your knees, whore. Now!”

You slide off the couch to stand up on your knees before him. He pushes your head down to his balls for you to collect them in your mouth. You stick your pierced tongue out to pull them into where they belong while Kakashi strokes his freed boner violently.

You fit both orbs in between your lips and suck, running your pink muscle all over them, massaging them with the stainless steel ball resting at the center of your tongue.

“That’s right. You’re nothing more than a good mouth for sucking on my nuts.”

You hum in agreement and feel Kakashi’s balls tighten as you do. “Fuck, just a perfect little slut. Yes you are.”

You loved his praise. Your eyes closed as you savored the taste of him. He ripped his balls out of your mouth and replaced it with his pink tip. You looked him in the eyes while you worshiped it. Giving light kitten licks before wrapping your lips around it. That’s when you noticed. He had been keeping a kinky secret from you too. Your lips run over a dydoe piercing on the top rim of his mushroom head. Your eyes widen.

“You like?”

You nod your head keeping him inside your mouth. You suck and begin prodding at his slit with the tip of your pointed tongue before rubbing it with the ball in your mouth. Kakashi shivers from the feeling.

You start to take more of him in your mouth, keeping your tongue out so that the round stainless steel end massages his shaft as you bob up and down on him. You can feel the small silver studs adorning his rim rubbing the back of your throat and you can’t wait to know how they feel inside your empty cunt. But you don’t get to enjoy these musings for too long. Kakashi places both hands on the back of your head and starts ramming himself down your throat. You choke and he holds you there. Keeping you down on him. The drool in your mouth starts spilling past your lips.

“That’s a good girl. Keep my dick in your throat.”

Your face was turning bright red as you waited to breathe. Finally he pulled you back. You gasp and pant, swallowing what oxygen you could before he was shoving himself back in.

“Eyes open, I want you looking at me.”

You obey as he bullies your throat. His hands in your hair tilting your face up so he can gaze down on you. Drinking in the feeling of power, having you down on your knees before him.

“You gonna be a good little slut and service my cock, right?”

You try to say yes but it comes out muffled. “Huh? What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You try again but he deliberately starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. “Speak up if you have something to say.”

You try to say yes again but now he is freely fucking your face, ramming himself down your windpipe, while he pushes your head towards him. Hissing from the feeling of your tongue ring at the base of his shaft. He had never thought about how that stupid little steel bar in your mouth could be so useful to him. Now he may never stop thinking about it.

“Good girl.” he coos, “Don’t forget to look up.”

You try but then he pushes himself extra far and your eyes snap shut as your core tightens. You think you’ve had about all you can take when he finally pulls you off of him and spins you around so your face lays on the couch with your feet planted on the ground, displaying your holes to Kakashi’s leering eyes.

He immediately goes to swat at your lips dripping with arousal. The sound of impact is loud as you cry out.

“This cute little pussy is for me, ey?”

“Yes!” you cry.

You want him in you so bad. You need to feel him fill your hole the way he filled your mouth. You are eager to feel just how good his piercing rubs your walls. You wiggle your behind, asking for him to enter.

“You think you deserve a reward for taking my cock in your mouth so good?”

“Please sir”

He brings the palm of his hand down hard on your rear. “You don’t get rewarded for doing the bare minimum.”

Your skin stings from the blow but then it’s washed away from his tip prodding at your entrance. He teasingly enters only half way, stroking you lightly before pulling out and striking you with immense force again. As you cry he reenters you, deeper than before. Stroking in and out hearing your moans before he pulls out again and strikes with even more force. You feel like your skin is burning when he plunges in all the way. He thrusts in and out quickly making you sing before he rips out of your tightening hole to strike you several times. He repeats the brutal process, taunting you.

“You think you’re special just cause you can take a dick? Ha! You’re just a little whore.”

You reply with cries and screams, noises falling out of you from the beating.

“You think you’re special cause I chose to shove my dick in you? Think again slut. You’re just a toy for my pleasure.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire. Your knees grew weak from the game. It felt too good but he was edging you. Giving you pleasure but pulling out and hitting you before you could get off.

He unwraps your wrists and finishes taking off your shirt and bra. He throws them across the room and loops the belt around your neck, tugging on the end like a leash. Your fingers desperately reach up to the leather.

He holds onto the belt while shoving himself into you, taking you from behind like the little sex doll that you are. He rails through you pushing your organs aside while tugging hard on the belt, letting it constrict around your throat as your back bows. Nothing but grunts make it past your lips as the backs of your thighs collide with his hips. With his free hand he keeps hitting your plush behind, watching the ripples wash over your skin.

Your hands find their way to the couch cushions for support but he doesn’t like that. No, you’re not helpless enough like that.

“Spread your cheeks”

“Yes sir” you whisper

You reach behind you and spread your fingers before sinking them into the flesh of your behind, tugging outward so Kakashi could get a full view of your puckered rear and his wide girth gliding in and out of your labia. He groaned at the sight of your beautiful submission. Reveling in the feeling of how much tighter he had to hold the leash now that more of your weight was resting on your neck.

You choke as he wraps the belt around his knuckles. A reminder that you are no longer in control. At work you were in charge of so many daily operations but at this moment you were at Kakashi’s mercy. You were relieved of any choices. Your current master made them for you. Even the choice to breathe had been stripped away and that thought made juices squelch around his member invading your silken cavern.

Kakashi thrusts into you, abusing you, taking out all his pent up frustration on your body. He sees your starting to go limp and lets up on your tether, opting to grab you at your elbows instead. The improved grasp on your body allows him to slam in more forcefully and hit you even deeper than he did before.

Now that the tension had fallen from your neck you were able to properly breathe again. You begin screaming from the new depths of Kakashi’s dick in your slit. Feeling how his ring was massaging you in his assault, dragging along your walls as they squeezed around him.

As much as he savored the sounds of your surrender, he couldn’t have your neighbors checking in on you so he grabbed one of the napkins from the coffee table and stuffed it in your mouth, gagging you so as to muffle your cries. You couldn’t help how noisy you were. The stimulation was just overwhelming.

Thinking it couldn’t get more intense, he shoves you forward so your knees fall onto the couch. He grabs your hair and pushed your face onto the back of it, while reaching around your waist to begin rubbing your swollen bud. He begins stroking again and you feel yourself unravel. Your hands go to grip the couch again when he yanks on your hair to bring your ear close to his mouth.

“Did I say you could let go of your ass?”

You shake your head and bring your hands back behind you. He shoves your head back down and says,

“Grab your elbows. This ass needs some punishment.”

You whine, knowing your bright red skin can’t handle any more spanking but that isn’t your decision to make. You fold your arms behind your back and hold onto your elbows, bent over the back of the couch, your erect nipples grazing the upholstery. He lifts a foot onto the couch, posed as Captain Morgan so as to keep himself inserted as he brings his hand down on your cheek. He feels how you clench up in pain, straining around his girth. It eggs him on as he continues spanking your backside. You flinch and cry but he knows you like it. He feels how you drip. Slick coating your inner thighs.

“Only a whore would enjoy this so much. Tell me, are you a whore?”

You scream into the napkin as he brings his hand down again.

“Answer me!”

You try to scream ‘yes’ but the fabric has you silenced. He snatches it out from between your teeth as he strikes you again.

“Yes!! Yes I love it sir!”

He shoves the napkin back in, satisfied with your answer.

“Fuckin knew it, filthy slut”

With a final slap he pulls your hips back so you’re lined up along the edge of the couch. He stands behind you, one hand digging into your hip, the other still tangled in your hair, burying your face into the back cushion of the couch.

He drags in and out of you slowly, taunting you. Each time coming out to the tip so your ridge feels the metallic studs tug at it. Then he buries himself up to the hilt, pushing in just a little more when he’s flush against your rear. Satisfied moans come from your chest.

He drops the hand on your hip and brings it back to your clit, rubbing circles around it. You squeeze around him and flinch. He leans down,

“Do you like when I rub there?”

“Mhm” is all you can say before he releases your hair to take hold of your hips. He starts driving in. Both hands now placed on the flesh of your waist, pulling you back into him harshly with each thrust. He gains speed, the momentum causing his balls to crash into your clit, replacing the work his fingers were doing. Your face melts into a pleasured expression as you feel that coil of tension, that had been building since his earlier edging, on the verge of snapping.

His brutal pace left his sack crashing into your clit relentlessly. Your face bounces against the cushions until you finally release. You spray as you shake, graffitiing the couch with your fluids, the tingling warmth of the orgasm radiating from your cunt.

Kakashi pile drives into you, not letting you rest, allowing his balls to continue slapping into your swollen, wet clit as you spray, making your jerk violently. He grabs your hips tighter, keeping control of your body so he can continue to pound into you. You scream and writhe, trying to escape his grasp, almost letting go of your elbows to push him off.

Your sensitivity was all consuming and he didn’t care at all. You were a toy, a fleshlight, poised to service him. He was going to take advantage of how tightly your walls were bearing down on him, even if it was uncomfortable for you.

Your cries fell on deaf ears as Kakashi sank himself into you. He pushed you forward on the couch more, making room for him to kneel behind you. He brought up one knee and lifted your leg to rest on top of it, spreading you when you were already too tender to take any more. The new angle deepened his access, allowing him to push your diaphragm out of the way as he chases his pleasure.

You were brilliant. Your sweaty slick covered body contorted to his every whim. The look of your fucked out face turning around to plead with him for mercy where none would be granted. How the napkin was wet around your lips from the drool collecting in your mouth. The bright red on your ass cheeks from taking a beating by his hand and the perky peaks of your tits, rubbing along the couch’s fabric. The cones of your piercings, threatening to snag, tempting his hands to toy with them again.

One hand planted on your hip, controlling the pace, while the other reached up and began groping your chest. He was obsessed with your nipples. The piercings were too enticing. As much as he loved the current position, he needed to see your tits.

He withdrew from inside of you with a loud squelch and pulled you down to the floor, your bare back making contact with the area rug below. You brought your knees up near your arm pits, holding them spread as Kakashi sunk his tip past your folds, stroking in and out of you passionately while his hand roamed the surface of your chest, playing with the bars piercing your buds. You make doe eyes at him as he does, making him smirk with pride. Maybe this is his new Friday night ritual with you. You spread your legs while he plays with your tits.

He bends his head to give them both a harsh suck before he adjusts your legs to go over his shoulders. You hands wrap around his neck as he starts to slam into your corridor. You scrunch up from the intensity. Your head burying into Kakashi’s neck before a particularly cruel snap of his hips had you flinging your head back, nails sinking into the skin at the base of his head, your back arching off the carpet before he leaned forward, bending you in two. He was close to finishing, pounding feverishly into you. The last of his stress melting away as he wrecks your pussy, shredding the inside, rubbing it raw, filling it with his precum. His anger turns to pleasure. Teetering once more on the brink of orgasm. He leans in even more and you fall over the edge, gushing around him, cum dripping from your folds and down your ass crack. Your mewls are muzzled by the napkin still stuffed in your mouth as mascara runs down your sweaty tear soaked cheeks. You are the picture of wrecked and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Just as he’s about to burst he rips the napkin out of your mouth and grabs a fist full of your hair to drag your face to his cock so he can shoot his heavy load down your throat. You stick out your tongue and hollow your cheeks to pull as much cum from his shaft as you can, feeling it rhythmically spring to the back of your throat. His salty taste filling your mouth.

When he’s done, you hold the suction and bob your head some more. He flinches but you grab his waist, getting revenge for his earlier brutality after you squirted. He fists your hair and pulls back forcefully.

“Nice try slut.��

You smile up at him, feeling fully fucked out. Smiling back down at you, he kisses your face. He pulls you up but only to push you back down on the couch so he can lay on top of you and sloppily make out while he plays with your nipple piercings some more. You sleepily wrap your arms around him, drained from his pounding. 

“I’m spending the night.”

“Yes sir.” you whisper in your ear.

“Don’t get me riled up again. I don’t think you can take a second round.” he murmurs into your ear before kissing your temple. You ignore him and wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against him with your bare sex.

Stopping you before he gets carried away, he stands up and throws your body over his shoulder like a nap sack. He hoists you up to your bathroom to shower. 

After turning on the water he fingers you under the spray, pinning you against the wall and toying with his new obsession. Your already very weak knees are unable to hold your weight as they quake in pleasure. His digits bury themselves inside you, scoping out the damage done by his length minutes prior, feeling how he tore and scratched you. 

After making you cum a third time, fourth time total, he washes himself off. Then scrubs down your weakened form, being extra gentle around the rug burn on your back as well as your very bruised and beaten bottom.

Turning off the water and drying you both, he pulls your exhausted body to your bedroom, grabbing panties and a fresh tank top from the top drawer of your dresser. You slowly and sleepily put them on as he goes to get his briefs from the living room. When he returns he sees you try to put on pajama pants.

“Absolutely not.”

You stop in your tracks as he strides over to swat at your hand. He kicks the bottoms aside for the crime of trying to hide your beautiful body and takes posession over your mouth. Kissing you as he guides you backwards onto the bed. You climb in together and pull the covers up over your bodies while you wrap your leg over his hips. You sleepily grind on him with your eyes closed, sucking on his face, feeling wiped out from how he ravaged you.

He tickles your ear as he whispers, “You realize you’re not allowed to wear bras anymore.”

“I’m not?” you dreamily ask between kisses

“No” he replies with a pinch to your nipples through your shirt. “I need to see these at all times.”

“I can do that”

“Good slut”

You laugh into his mouth, continuing to kiss him. Excited for next Friday.

Masterlist

[railingsofsorrow]

do you need me?

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: the one where emily's death takes a toll on you. based on the prompt “don't come over, I can handle it.” from this prompt list.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 3.5K

warnings/content: mentions of skipping meals; grief; mourning the loss of a friend; jemily (implied); blood; non-graphic descriptions of violence; character death (mentioned/not the MCs); addiction; intoxication; survivor's guilt; crying; unhealthy coping mechanisms; this is... heavy, be aware.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! I wish that we all have an amazing 2024. here's the blurb you voted for. hurt/comfort at its best <3

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

would you like to enter my taglist?

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❝ it did not kill me and it did not make me stronger. it simply was and always will be scorched upon my heart. ❞

— d.j

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You don't know who took Emily's death the hardest. Pain is not something that can be measured or compared, people deal with it in different ways. Some are quieter in their grieving, others are loud. And although each one of your teammates knows how to compartmentalize their feelings, there was a fog in their eyes, a heaviness in their shoulders more than usual. Things you could relate well after all that has happened. You wish you didn't. You wished all of that was just a strange and far-off memory.

JJ was different — you noticed it during one of your night outs.

Penelope had forced everyone to hang out after a case, to relax. It had been a few months after what happened to Emily and the team was still... sore. Rightfully so.

Hotch and Rossi left earlier, leaving you, Derek, Spencer, Penelope and JJ at the bar. The only ones who weren't intoxicated were you and Spencer. You were pretty sure the conversation Penelope and Derek were having in their own little world was not PG-13, anyway.

“Do you think she's alright?”

Spencer asked, casting a look towards JJ. It's been half an hour she was nursing a glass of water — you had purposely brought her this one since she'd lost count of her shots —, staring at it with her stare unfocused.

“She will be.” You had said and when he told you he was leaving, you asked if he wanted a ride home. You hadn't drank anything but orange juice. He refused it, hugged you and, before he left, he demanded that you'd let him know once you got home.

You ended up being JJ's designated driver that night.

It was when you first saw a crack through the mask she had put on. Emily and JJ shared a deep bond. You knew their friendship wasn't just friendship, even before Emily had revealed to you that she had feelings for the blonde a while back. When Emily was gone, you saw how JJ took it hard. Not that everyone else didn't as well, but the love from each person in the team carried for Emily was different from the love JJ had for her.

Between the gibberish she was mumbling in the passenger seat of your car, she let escape a faint “I miss her”. Her voice cracked and your heart ached.

“D’ you think...” She muttered as you were helping her into her bed. “D'you think she miss— a hiccup — misses us?”

You refrained from saying that dead people cannot miss anything. Instead, you waited for her to fall asleep, placed a cup of water and aspirin on her bedside table before leaving her apartment.

She pretended nothing happened in the next day and you did the same.

You thought JJ had it worst, until Spencer showed up at your door at 3 a.m craving for something he hadn't touched in three years.

Again, pain is not comparable. One does not hurts more than another; people deal with their hardships in life differently, even if they have gone through the same life-changing event.

Some let it show, others just know how to hide it better. You no longer knew if you were the former or the latter through the eyes of your friends.

The current case you were working on had rendered you mentally exhausted. A victim had been taken hostage and for two days you tried to negotiate with the unsub, but to no avail. You almost had it. Almost. When you thought you had succeeded in releasing the woman, she was shot right in front of you.

She died in your arms and there was nothing that you could have done to prevent.

Or was there?

There was nothing that you could have done. You have heard that before. Countless of times. People tried to inject that into your head as a way to make you feel better. And they have their best intentions, you do not doubt it. But it was no use if you couldn't bring yourself to believe these words.

This was just one of those days, when you didn't know how to cope with that overbearing sadness that crippled your mind.

There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have—

“Hey.”

You flinched, startled at the voice. As you came back to reality, Spencer turned up in front of you.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” His face twitched into a grimace.

You cleared your throat, placing your stuff in your bag. You were so distracted that you didn't realise you had been holding the bloodied shirt you were wearing in the morning; you shoved it inside carelessly. I'm gonna burn it.

“You didn't,” you said. “What's up? I thought you had left already.”

Spencer leaned on the door, fingers playing with the strap of his satchel as he waited for you to leave the room. He followed you to the corridor, an unspoken silence that said a million things. His fidgety hands weren't just mindlessly stimming, he was nervous.

Everyone else seemed to have left, meaning the bullpen was fairly empty. You wondered how long you stayed frozen reminiscing as the minutes went by.

“I was waiting for you.” He responded as soon as the elevator doors closed.

You turned to him with widened eyes. “Why? I'm sorry I kept you waiting—”

Spencer quickly waved you off, “It's alright.” He gave you a soft smile. The one you felt warm inside. “I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Oh.

“Of course I am.” You replied and you really hoped the tight smile you gave him was convincing enough for him to not question further. You weren't sure if you'd be able to not crumble down completely if he asked again.

“Are you sure?”

Damn, Spencer.

Yes, everything is good. I just need to get home, take a shower and have a good night sleep without interruptions.

Everything is good.

You don't know how many times you repeated that until he walked alongside you to the parking lot.

Arriving home was all that you needed to let your armour aside. God you were so tired. You didn't even reach your bedroom before the tears came like a waterfall. Falling into your couch, with no strength to stand, you finally stopped fighting against the sadness and let it lead you for the time being.

It's hard trying to be strong all the time, isn't it? Not admitting you need someone to be there for you because you only know how to be there for people. You tell them it's going to be okay. You let them be vulnerable. You say it's okay to not be okay.

Why can't you treat yourself the same way you treat the people around you?

You count every raindrop falling down your window, it helps you focus on reality. It was grounding and a few minutes later you have stopped sobbing your heart out.

It was raining hard outside. When you open the window, the cold slips right in and you stay there, enjoying the wind pushing your hair back.

You dial a familiar number tonight. And you don't hang up after two rings. You think about doing it in the fourth, but the person picks up, apologizing before they say hello.

It actually makes your lips twitch slightly. You don't smile, but you feel like doing it after crying so hard.

“Spencer.” You say through the phone interrupting his incessant apologies for taking too long to answer, your brows creasing after you hear how strange your voice is. “You don't have to apologize. I was the one who called you at one a.m. Why are you even awake?”

“I was reading. Lost track of time. I— have you been crying?” Well, shit. Too much for thinking he wouldn't notice through the phone.

“Why do you ask?” You ask rather pathetically. Why did you call him? Why did you bother Spencer at one a.m when he could be sleeping? You should feel sorry for yourself. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called—”

“I was thinking about you.”

Your breath hitches. You close the window and sit back on the floor and you feel like crying again, you don't know why. Maybe it's his voice. Maybe it's the fact that he makes you feel everything that you're allowed to feel.

He takes your silence as his cue to continue. “I know how much you love thunderstorms so I...” he trails off as if he's uncertain about what he will say. “I remembered you.”

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Spencer could take pride in saying he knew you better than anyone else.

He recognised the sound of your voice was different when your were excited about a particular topic and when you were discussing a case at work. He knew you brushed your hair behind your ear when you felt shy, but the same action could happen when you were uncomfortable. It heavily depended on the situation.

He was aware of your odd behaviour by the way you kept on touching your index finger throughout the day. The week, actually. Spencer could tell you were bothered by something, he could tell you were deeply upset. You skipped breakfast and you never had lunch with them. Not that past week.

And judging by the dark circles around your eyes, you weren't sleeping well either.

He saw himself in you a month back.

See, Spencer was the kind of person who didn't like being vulnerable around anyone. If anything, he mastered the act of not communicating his feelings, he just expected them to disappear, which didn't happen but he was getting better at understanding that.

After Emily's passing, the only one he opened up to was you. And it was the hardest and best choice he ever made. You made him feel seen. It was so easy to talk to you about anything that he didn't notice until a few days ago that you were a very good listener. Not that he didn't notice that before, no, it was not that. But you just listened. You comforted. You held.

Spencer was really concerned about your coping mechanisms, because he knew he didn't have the most healthy ways of dealing with things. He hoped you were better than him. He hoped you didn't let it build up until you were suffocating.

So when you called him, he wasn't lying when he said he was thinking of you. His lie laid on the reading part, he was trying to fall asleep but his concern was keeping him up.

I'm here for you too. He wanted to say. Please, let me be here for you.

“I know how much you love thunderstorms so I...” He sat down on the bed, shifting until he found a comfortable position. “I remembered you.” This is what he started with.

Your ragged breathing through the line cut off his rational thinking. So you have been crying.

He called your name softly.

“Hi. I'm here.” You say, forcing out an exhale.

“Talk to me.” He pleads.

He hears a faint sniffle, “I'm here, Spencer.”

No, you're not. You're far away.

“I'm here too. You know that right?”

“It's been a hard week.” You admit through your shaky voice. “I just needed to hear your voice.” You cut him off quickly. “I know that I saw you a few hours ago, but I—”

“Do you need me?” He was the one who cut you off this time. He couldn't bear you explaining the reason you called. You could call him as many times as you wanted. Every five minutes, every second. He wanted to tell you he missed you when your shift was over for the day even if he spent the entire day by your side, and that you never ever could bother him because he cherished your company. He wanted you close. And he just wanted you to be okay now.

“... It's one a.m, Spence.” There is some shifting through the line, sounds like you were moving around. “I— I can handle it. It's fine.”

“Do you need me?” He repeats, shuffling out of his room to the living room. He couldn't care less that it was one a.m. He found his coat hanged and didn't wait for your answer to put it on. Really, Spencer should have done it sooner.

He's half way on tying his left shoe when you breath out in resignation. Your voice much closer to his ear as if you were telling him a secret you should be ashamed of. “Yes. Yes, I need you.”

He let out a hum, standing up to grab his car keys and sprinted out of his home to go to yours.

“I'll be there in ten.”

You lived twenty minutes away from him, but he'd make in ten. He wanted to see you. More than anything, he wanted to tell you everything that you hadn't heard when you were too busy comforting people instead of yourself.

He stops short before knocking on your door, deciding on sending you a text to let you know he was there so you wouldn't be startled at the noise. He didn't get to click send as the door was yanked open. Your bloodshot eyes and swollen lips are the first thing he sees.

“Hi.” He says, slipping his phone into his pocket. As soon as he did that, your arms envelope his shoulders which caused him to let out a sound of surprise, but he quickly recover and wraps his own arms around you, squeezing your shaky body against his. “Hi.” He utters into the croak of your neck, his hand trailing up and down on your back gently. “I'm wet because of the rain,” he apologises halfheartedly. “Sorry.”

The laugh he hears through your sobs might just have made his day.

He was cold immediately after you slips out of his arms. You pull him inside your place and shut the door, claiming you would be back with a towel despite his protests that he didn't need it.

Spencer lost count of how many times he visited your place. He knew every corner of your apartment, every place you left books that you keep losing when you didn't found them on the shelves, every painting and drawing you had on the walls. The ones he happily convinced you to put on because you made them and they were beautiful, you just didn't believe it.

The two of you spent long hours on your couch, either reading a book and saying your favourite quotes out loud or just watching bad movies and TV shows to pass the time.

He'd ramble on and on about the inconsistencies of any plot and you'd engage in his refutations until you'd disagree and some bantering ensued.

“Here.” Spencer turns around to see you offering a towel for him to dry off. The middle of your forehead furrows slightly, he feels the need to smooth it out himself but he refrains from doing so. “It's dangerous to drive when the weather it's like this. I'm sorry that I made you come all the way here for nothing.”

“Nothing?” He shakes his head as if it's the most absurd thing you've ever said. “You're not nothing.” He accepts the towel and what he recognizes is a jumper of his he must have forgotten a while ago.

When he's completely dry, he walks to the kitchen where you had ventured off to make some tea.

Two mugs are placed on the kitchen counter, the smell of camomile slowly filling the room. You are lost in your thoughts again, mixing the honey in your tea with a spoon for forty-three minutes, your gaze unfocused. Lost.

His fingerstips trails down your wrist to your hand, proceeding to take one of your hands in his, thumb running across your palm. “Can you please look at me?” He requests softly, head tilting until you have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It” are a lot of things. But he doesn't know if you feel comfortable enough to talk about all of them tonight. He'll just follow your lead and respect your time.

“I don't want you to see me like this.”

He feels your fingers tighten around his hand and he squeezes back as a form of reassurance.

“Like what?” He can't help but ask. Vulnerable? Human?

“Weak.”

“You could never be weak in my eyes.”

This time, he does smooth down the frown between your brows with his thumb, surprised that you don't reject his touch but welcome it by leaning into his hand.

Neither of you drink the tea. Instead, you move back to the living room, settling down on your couch. You end up cuddling, which wasn't strange because you have done it many times before. Now it just feels more intimate. His hold never strayed from yours. This time, he listened. He comforted. And he held you.

“I'm used to blood, we see it all the time.” you carry on, speaking directly to his chest as he looks down at you. “But I... My hands. There was just so much of it and I couldn't, I couldn't save her.” Your fingers play with the straps of his jumper to distract yourself.

There was nothing that you could have done.

“She knows you did everything you could.” Spencer reassures. He was well aware that you weren't just talking about the victim that you had lost today. “Wherever she is right now...” He lifts a hand to cup your face stroking your cheek with the utmost care in the world. “She knows.”

Your bloodshot eyes study him carefully, searching for any indication that could make you not trust anything he just said. He knew how hard it was to believe that you had no fault in the loss of a friend. Maybe if we had gotten there sooner... Maybe if we had figured everything out sooner...

A little bird told him once that you can't dwell on the past for long or else you'll be stuck in it. And those words — your words — helped on his healing process. He hoped he did the same to you now.

You were laying on his chest, one of your hands positioned right where his heart laid as your other arm involved his middle. His arm wrapped around you as his fingers were trailing up and down your back in the way he knew calmed you down. Spencer felt the most rested he hasn't felt in months and he wasn't even sleeping.

“Tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable.”

He shook his head in response, finding that statement completely absurd because it was not possible for you to make him feel uncomfortable. He's not a fan of PDA, but he found that he didn't mind it with you. So he lowered down on the couch, moving your body with his to be more comfortable, lips grazing your temple in a soft kiss.

“You're not.” He says brushing your hair away from your neck. Your eyes were shut and he could feel your breathing evening out. “Try to sleep a little.” He let out in a whisper to not disturb your peacefulness. He knew you needed it.

“Don't go.” You croak out, tucking your nose in the croak of his neck, breathing into him.

The corner of his lips quirk up. “I'll be here when you wake up.” He promises as thunder rolled outside. Fluttering his eyes shut when you have finally dozed off, he ignores the warnings in his head about sleeping on the couch and how bad it is for one's neck.

No, he could deal with that tomorrow. For now, he would just hold you.

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❝ all I know of strength, I have learnt from breaking. ❞

— sahiba

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taglist: @lilyviolets

[mageofseven]

ITS ME ONCE AGAIN, HELLOOO

After the vampire event, I'm thinking about like what if MC was the vampire? Thus, here I am

"Vamp!MC asks the Boys if they will let Vamp!MC feed on them."

Mammon ilysm and the Nestling With Birdie series is so good omg

Edit: This took three days to write so despite down below how I mention the Boys, sadly I was only able to give you the Brothers. Sorry, my ADD was fighting me so this is all I have to show for it 😅

I hope you like it anyway.

~

Oooo ok nice idea. I sadly never got to finish that event but I love vampires~

Also awww, I'm glad you like Birdie's series so much hehe 🤭

Okay so I'll write this with these assumptions:

Bites do not turn the Boys. Maybe this a human strain of the Vampirism virus they caught that Soli's immortal immune system is too super charged for?

MC is handling their thirst worse than the brothers did in the event.

They will be cured regardless of whether they bite and drink anyone's blood; the cure is simply time consuming to make, but others are working on it.

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎���

Lucifer:

The oldest was the only House of Lamentation member allowed in the human's room at this time; his brothers simply could not be trusted.

He was the one to check on the sick human (kinda? let's still call them that) and make sure they ate their meals (they still needed nourishment despite their condition; food helped, but was never quite enough).

As the week dragged on, the poor sick human's thirst became more and more unbearable.

"Please." MC gripped the pride demon's shirt, trying to force him down to give them access to his neck.

Lucifer sighed and stared down at his poor love guiltily. He should have been more careful with them, more observant with the culture; surely then he could have prevented this terrible infliction from reaching them.

He raised his gloved hand to their face, stroking their cheek lovingly as they leaned in with tears in their eyes, nuzzling his covered wrist.

Lucifer watched this for a moment, lips pursed, before sighing once more.

"We don't know what my blood will do to you." He insisted. "So just a bit to push back your thirst."

And with that, he took back his hand, removed his glove and pushed up sleeve before offering his wrists to them

Despite their previous begging, MC hesitated and looked back up at Luce's onyx eyes.

"It's alright." He spoke softly. "Drink. Take some of the pain away."

And so they did. MC gently took hold of his hand and lower arm before bringing his wrist closer to their face.

That's when the Avatar of Pride saw it; his love's eyes glazed over and they licked their lips before biting into the sensitive skin.

Luce didn't make a sound, but did squeeze his eyes shut at the sharp intrusion.

MC took big gulps, ready to rid themself of this special dehydration.

Once he felt his partner's body relax and desperation dissipate, he took his other hand and squished their cheeks be his thumb and forefinger, guiding them off his wrist and forward to look at him.

With messy lips and a little trail of blood runny down their lips, MC stared up at him with this loving, drunk expression.

They giggled, causing their boyfriend to raise an eyebrow.

"What's so funny, love?"

"Luuuuci looooooves me."

Okay so apparently vampires, whether all, human based, or human-turned, get drunk off of demon blood.

This...an interesting development, to say the least.

MC leaned in and kissed him, causing the man to taste his own blood.

Well, at least MC was no longer in any pain.

Mammon:

Devil, it was driving this man insane.

Yeah, he knows Lucifer told him and the others to leave MC be till the cure is ready, but it just wasn't that simple.

That was his human sick. That was Mammon's partner in there crying and begging to be let out.

And he was just so supposed to stay away from her room still Lord Diavolo got that cure all sorted out?

Hell no.

Late at night, when Lucifer was neck deep in his work, you bet your ass Mammon snuck into his human's room, finding MC curled up on the bed crying.

"Heyy--"

Before he came say anything more, his poor human scrambling off the bed and rushing to his side, practically falling into him as they embrace their boyfriend.

"Maaaammmmooon." They cry out his named, stretching out the sound of it as they hug him tightly.

"Eyy, none of that." He hugged them back. "I made it to you, didn't I?"

"It huuuuurrrts."

The greed demon froze.

Shit. It's getting that bad already?

MC squirmed against him staring up at his neck with tears in their eyes.

Not gonna lie, getting bit in the neck sounds scary as hell to this dude...but how can he let his human stay like this?

He slid a hand in their hair.

"It's alright, I gotcha." He told them softly. "It's my job to take care of ya, ain't it?"

And with that, he pushed their head to his neck, their breath causing the hair on his neck to stand to up and his beat race.

Their cries quieted swallowed in anticipation as they leaned in closer and slowly licked up their boyfriend's neck, an apparently sensitive spot for the demon by the way he let out a small moan--right before they dug in with their fangs.

Mammon cursed, tightening his fist in their hair as his other arm wrapped around their waist.

MC's breathing became heavier during the moments they'd stopped drinking to breath and her drinks became deeper.

It didn't take long for Mammon to start feeling light headed.

Shit. How does he get them to stop?

"Ey, babe?"

No response. His body was getting more tired.

"Treasure, listenin'--"

MC pulled away, giggling, before suddenly both toppled onto the ground.

The human was too drunk to get up and the demon was too light headed, but at least MC was more than content to cuddle with him on her rug 🥰🤭

Leviathan:

Okay, the otaku knew he was not supposed to be in here

But this was his Henry we're talking about.

How could Lucifer expect him to abandon the person he loves? The only one who truly understands him?

Levi simply wasn't strong enough to do it.

He snuck into MC's room in the middle of the night and found them laying on the floor, softly crying.

At first, the envy demon stood awkwardly in the doorway.

Should he...?

No. This is literally his partner. MC needs him now more than ever.

And so he closed the door behind him and joined his Henry on the floor, laying down next to them.

He shouldn't be so weird about it; after all, this wasn't the first time they've both laid on the floor and felt like garbage together.

"Henry..."

MC reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Levi...I can't take it anymore." They whispered.

He squeezed their hand. The demon doesn't know a lot about vampires and the disease, but thirst is known for being torturous and is used as an emotional element in many supernatural anime.

Throat ash dry, body weak, desperate for even a single drop; that's how newly turned vampires usually feel in shows; is this how MC feels now?

Tears started to fill his eyes.

"J-Just drink from me." Their boyfriend told them. "Please...it's okay."

Slowly, the human brought their linked hands down at an angle that brought his wrist to their mouth.

At first, MC simply pressed their lips over the big blue vein seen through his skin, as if kissing him in apology before parting their lips and sliding their fangs into his tender skin.

Levi cried out, but didn't pull away; he let his poor Henry weakly drink from his wrist.

The cure was truly taking a while, wasn't it? The others swore food would be enough subtain them till it was ready, but MC looked as if they have been hanging on by a thread this entire time.

His Henry needed this; they needed this and Levi felt proud of himself for breaking the rules in order to help his partner.

The more the human drank though, the more tired he felt.

Should...should he tell them to stop? What if they need more?

Luckily, MC had enough restraint to break away and smiled at their boyfriend with half-lidded eyes.

The human rolled on top of him, causing their boyfriend to blush.

MC leaned down and kissed his cheek before laying their head on his chest.

"Thank you..."

And like that, the tired and blood drunk human fell asleep.

Satan:

Anyone who thought he was going to listen to his father was freaking stupid.

That was his Kitten in there, sick and alone.

The wrath demon destroyed half the living room when Lucifer made the announcement about what MC's illness ended up being and how no one was allowed to be in their room or anywhere around them till Diavolo had his people make a cure.

But it was ridiculous. The vampiric virus was just the human strain and therefore Satan couldn't catch it.

The blonde knew the pride demon was more concerned about MC's bites, but it's not like he's ever been afraid of his Kitten's bites before; now they simply have a purpose.

Satan was determined not to let his partner suffer alone, no matter what.

The man approached the door and undid the lock charm before stepping inside.

The room was dark, but the hall light was enough to show the man that the human was sitting on floor with their back to their bed, knees to their chest, and face hidden in their arms.

Satan's heart ached at the sight. This infliction was bad enough, but the blonde knew what was truly getting to his poor Kitten: being left alone.

The demon turned on the light and stepped inside before closing the door; MC still hasn't moved an inch.

He sat on the bed and stroke his partner's head for moment.

"Come here, Kitten."

"But...but I'll hurt you..." They sniffled.

"I promise I can take it."

The human poked an eye out hesitantly before reaching a hand out for help up.

Satan took it and guided them up to his lap.

It was nighttime so Satan had on his sleepwear, including a tank top that revealed his shoulders.

MC laid their head on his right shoulder and Satan rubbed their back.

"You can do it."

And with that encouragement, the human sank their fangs into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Satan winced, but still held his Kitten close and rocked them as they drank from his body.

His Kitten will be okay soon. He knew the affect demon blood will have on them in this state and truthfully, it was better than what they must have been feeling this entire time.

The man listened to them sip deeply from him, but also noticed that they seemed strangely more controlled than he thought they would be; they even pulled back before he asked, face messy with their 'drink'.

"Thank you." They smiled, buzzed but not truly drunk.

"You can more, Kitten." He told them, but his partner only shook their head.

"I just want you to hold me right now." MC admited. "Is that okay?"

Satan smiled and kissed them, unbothered by the blood.

"Of course."

Even with how bad the thirst is, it was the loneliness that hurt his Kitten the most.

Once they have been held and kissed to a sufficient degree then they will drink more; for now, they just need comfort.

Asmodeus:

Asmo told the others he was go head to bed early, that his beauty sleep was calling and so he had to say adieu.

Instead, he snuck over to his Dolly's room and slid inside.

There was no way he was going to let them suffer through this on their own; not if he could help it.

The room was dark, but he found the sweet human curled up in bed, under the blanket.

The lust demon slipped in bed next their partner and wrapped his arm around them.

"Doll...I'm here." He spoke softly, caressing their arm.

"Azzy...you can't be here."

"Of course I can. You need me after all." Their boyfriend pressed some sweet kisses to their neck.

The demon sucked on a sensitive spot of the human's neck, a spot he knew was their favor, causing them to release a little gasp.

Azzy broke away.

"See? Let me take care of you~"

In truth, the man didn't particularly want his beautiful skin to be punctured, but for MC, it simply wasn't something he had to think about.

The human rolled over and stared at him anxiously.

Asmo smiled sweetly at them before sliding a hand into their smooth hair and gently leading them to his neck.

The human was nervous, but first decided to return the favor, playfully sucking on a sensitive area their boyfriend loved, causing him to moan before sinking their teeth in him as gently as they could.

Asmo played with his Dolly's hair as they drank. His poor Doll. Being sick is never fun, but being sick with a nasty vamp virus and having to hide away, all alone in their room with a burning thirst?

Take your time, sweetie; Azzy gots you.

MC drank for a while from the lust demon, but also drank small sips, savoring each drop that slid down their throat.

Their boyfriend didn't mind this; they were being quite gentle with him and he loved getting the chance to cuddle with them after so long of Lucifer keeping them apart.

Eventually, MC pulled back and looked at their boyfriend sweetly before leaning in for a sweet kiss.

The two had another activity to catch up on, something the human was only all the more interested in from drinking from a lust demon.

Beelzebub:

Beel was in the the kitchen making his usual midnight snack raid.

In truth...his heart really wasn't in it.

MC's room was right next door and, unlike the other men on this list, he was trying to follow Lucifer's orders.

His Muffin was sick so surely it was better for them to get rest till their medicine is ready...right?

The more time that passed, the less this man was sure.

Beely missed them. He wanted to hold them close and spend their days together like they always did 🥺😔

That's when he spotted them: iced tweety birds. MC likes munching on those bird shaped cookies as they study.

...Maybe his Muffin would like a snack? Granted, he understood food wasn't necessarily what their body was looking for, but still.

The big guy quietly left the kitchen with the little carton of cookies and opened the door next door to MC's room.

"Muffin?"

MC was sitting on the bed, hugging the big orange teddy bear he won for them at the Devildom's carnival and when I say big, I mean the demon sees the fluffy bear and no human.

The human responded by hugging the bear tighter.

Beel stepped in and closed the door.

"I brought cookies."

He shook the cartoon for emphasis and to let them know which type.

"Beely...I...I...I can't eat anymore."

The gluttony demon heart was shot. Their illness must be really bad if they can no longer eat food.

The man sat the carton on the desk before joining his partner on the bed.

He pulled them and the teddy into his arms and held them tightly (but not too tight, he was very conscious not to squeeze them too hard since they're sick).

Suddenly, the human dropped the bear and climbed onto their boyfriend's lap, kneeling on his legs to raise them to eye level with him.

"Beel..." Their voice was a plead that almost crossed into a whine. "I'm so thirsty..."

"Want me to get you a pop from the kitchen or something?"

MC laid their head on his chest and whimpered.

"Muffin??"

"Beel...I need blood. Please. Please."

Oh. Oh.

Right. Poor MC has apparently advanced this far.

"I got blood." He said simply. "You can bite me."

"B...b-but..."

Their boyfriend pressed a kiss to their forehead.

"It's okay." He spoke softly.

MC stared into his purple orbs for a minute more and watched him give them a small nodded.

The human leaned to their left and demon bent their neck out a bit, giving their partner more room.

MC made a small test nibble in the crook of his neck before looking back to Beel.

Their boyfriend was still smiling encouragingly to them so they turned back and bit in for real.

Beel has a high pain tolerance so the man didn't even wince at the bite.

He kept his arms wrapped around his partner and gently rocked them and rubbed their back as they drank.

The gluttony demon was such a big guy that the human didn't drink nearly enough to make him feel weak by the time they pulled away.

MC looked back up at him shyly, their face messy with his blood.

He chuckled and wiped their face with his hand before kissing their cheek.

"Good Muffin."

Belphegor:

Yeah, Lucifer really didn't think his little rule through.

Not only was it stupid in Belphie's eyes, his older brother should have known he wasn't going to follow it.

Still, the youngest pretended like it was any other day and slept through most of it, as per usually.

When night came and most brothers where asleep or at least off in their usual nightly rooms, Belphie left the planetarium and headed downstairs to MC's room.

The human was laying on their rug, staring up at the ceiling with dried tears on their cheeks and red eyes.

Their boyfriend's eyes went wide as they hurried to join their partner on the rug and pulled them to his chest.

He pulled his cardigan back to give MC more neck room.

"Drink. Come, just do it."

"B-But--"

"You've suffered enough, Butthead." He pushed their face closer to his exposed neck. "Now do it."

MC left out a small whimper before bringing their lips to his neck and biting down.

Belphie squeezed his eyes shut at the bite, but otherwise made no reaction.

His former scowl softened as he listened to his partner gently drink from him, slow tears sliding down their cheeks as they did so.

The more the human drank, the less they cried.

Soon, the burning in their throat ceased and so did their tears.

MC broke away, finding their boyfriend barely conscious.

"Belphie? Belphie?!"

"I...fi..ne..."

And with that, the sloth demon passed out it and in truth, it made sense.

'Donating' a lot of blood can make any one tired; it made some of the other brothers so as well

But when it's the Avatar of Sloth whose done so?

Yeah, you have nothing to worry about, MC; it's not your fault.

Just let your boyfriend sleep it off.

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Four

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Chapter warnings/tags: slow burn, dad!din, bonding, injuries (not in detail), negative self-talk, mentions of past trauma/abuse

Chapter Length: 4.2k

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist & Info

notes: im sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others! if it's any consolation, a few of the chapters in this fic are 10k, so there's that. :) i've set a posting schedule of mondays and thursdays, but this week i'm posting on sunday because i'm going to be travelling on monday and i have to stay off tumblr to avoid tlou spoilers until the evening. so, surprise :)

i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you

“How do you feel?” Is the first thing you hear when you wake, rolling over on your makeshift bed to find Mando standing at the cave entrance again. He’s leaning against the wall with one shoulder, his hip cocked out, one leg bent casually. 

Kriffing hells, how is he so attractive when all you can see of him is his posture and his impossibly shiny armour? 

You force the thought from your mind, blaming it on your half-asleep state. 

“I don’t know yet,” you answer with a grimace. It’s been two days since your fall. The pain is better, though the rest of your body feels stiff now, muscle soreness finally catching up with you after the tumble. There hasn’t been another storm, at least, so Mando has managed to hunt for every meal so far. He goes out to get water every morning, filling canteens to the brim. He makes you drink so much that sometimes it feels like you’re swimming in it. “Hydration helps with healing,” he says every time, even though you already know; he says it just to counter your playful glaring at him every time he hands you the flask. 

“Sun rose not that long ago,” he cranes his neck to gaze up at the sky, “if you’re feeling up to it, we can probably travel today.” 

You manage to sit up, but the minute you do, pain shoots down from the wound on your calf and into your ankle. It circles there around the joint and throbs. “Have we got any more ice packs?” 

“One more,” Mando answers as he heads right over to his medpack and gets it out. 

“We should ration it,” you hold out your hand to stop him activating it. “For when we’re travelling. I’ll probably need it.” 

He looks down at the pack, hesitates. Then nods and puts it away. “Do you think you’ll be okay to travel today? If so, we should move soon, make the most of the daylight.”

Shifting a little, you try to get a gage on your body, how it feels. A grimace makes its way onto your face without your consent. Everything hurts. Literally everything. Muscles you didn’t even know you had are strained and stiff. 

But you’ve been here for two days. He’s been stranded here for four. 

“If the answer is anything but yes,” his voice cuts through your rapidly declining thoughts, “then my answer is no.” 

Relieved, you smile. But you protest, “Mando, you’ve stayed with me so long now. I can make my own way back.” 

“No,” he says definitively. “We move when you’re ready.” 

You relax, settling back against the wall. You’re too sore to argue. 

“The kid’s enjoying the vacation, anyway,” Mando says, the lilt of a smile in his voice. 

As if summoned, Grogu steps forward from his little bed at the back of the cave. He yawns, his tiny mouth opening as wide as it can go, his eyes screwing shut. 

Oh, Maker, he is adorable. 

“You take time off a lot?” You ask with a wry smile as Mando scoops the kid up into his arms. 

The huff of a laugh comes through his helmet. “Not really.” 

“Why am I not surprised?”

Mando tickles Grogu’s cheek, earning a little giggle. 

You watch them. There’s that warmth again, creeping its way between your ribs, around your heart. 

You have to look away. 

All three of you are starting to get a little stir crazy by the time the night comes around. 

You’re feeling better, though. Mando’s hydration obsession is working to help loosen out your stiff muscles. It doesn’t help, though, that you have to keep getting up every hour to pee. Especially because you have to tell Mando every time nature calls, which is, admittedly, rather humiliating—it shouldn’t be, it’s fucking natural, but he’s Mando and he’s been making you feel a certain way, and you don’t want to have to admit to this terrifying yet comforting man that you have to piss. It’s even worse that he has to help you hobble outside, then walk away while you do your business, and come back and pretend to not notice the puddle sinking into the ground. 

It’s demoralising. Your cheeks are tired from flushing red all the time. 

But he insists on you drinking enough, even when you protest. 

“I don’t mind doing this, you know,” he says as the sun sets, an arm around you as you hobble to the designated Nature Area. 

“Yes, you do,” you grumble, kind of just wanting the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

“I don’t,” he insists. “It’s fine. Besides, it’s good to move a little.” 

“A little? Mando, it’s every hour, on the hour, at this point.” 

The unfamiliar sound of a soft laugh comes through his helmet. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it sounded fond. But you’ve never heard a laugh like that. So. “It’s good. Just call me back when you’re ready.” 

He never comes back until you call, no matter how long it takes you.

It isn’t lost on you, either, that you never would have been able to do this on your own. You’d have had to piss where you sat. Which seems like a worse concept than just ruining your leg, and subsequent mobility, forever by forcing yourself to walk home. 

As darkness approaches, Mando takes his flashlight—yours is long dead by now—and puts it in the far end of the cave. He stays over there, rustling in his pack for something. Curious, you watch, wondering what he’s doing; he angles the light strangely, propping it up with a few stray rocks on the ground, and then fishes out a small piece of canvas, pulled from what remained of your tent. He puts it over the flashlight, folds it once. 

Then, the light is softer. Diffused around the cave. 

Grogu, who is sitting against the wall playing with a little silver ball, looks up at the newly-lit cave walls and laughs in glee. 

“You like it, kid?” Mando asks him. 

The kid claps his hands together, gazing around. Mando laughs softly and sits back down beside the kid, watching him. 

You’re watching Mando. It’s impossible not to, with the soft light reflecting from his armour in a new way, casting new highlights and shadows across every curve and edge. You wonder what places he’s been, how he’d look in all kinds of light. Harsh, bright, sunshine of a bright summer’s day, the dark ashy colour beneath rain clouds. 

“Mando?” You find yourself saying. 

He looks up at you, one hand holding the kid. 

“Tell me about somewhere else you’ve been,” you request. “Please?” 

“Where do you want to hear about?” 

“Anywhere. First place that comes to mind.” 

For a second, he’s quiet, just looking at you. Considering. When he speaks, he doesn’t say what you expected him to, and his voice is softer than it should be. “You really want to travel, don’t you?” 

And, okay. 

That hits a nerve. 

You look away, blinking. It’s clear that you’ve tensed, that something has made you uncomfortable; and you expect him to backtrack, to apologise, but he just waits. So patient, like he wouldn’t mind if you didn’t say anything, or even if you just told him to fuck right off. You wish you could see his face, decipher his expression. Match it to the soft curiosity of his lovely voice. 

“Yeah,” you manage on a shaky breath, imagining yourself up there, in the vastness of space, free to explore the Galaxy. “Yeah, I do.” 

Quiet again. He’s giving you space. 

You take it, let it sink in. 

Then, his voice is there again, “So why don’t you?”

And if that isn’t a question and a half. “It’s, uh,” you clear your throat. You’re about to say it’s complicated. But that doesn’t even cover the half of it. Instead, feeling a cold, familiar dread slowly creeping through your veins, you say, “I like it here.” 

He doesn’t say anything, but he looks at you still, some kind of unexplainable patience coming from his dark visor. 

It’s unclear if he can hear the omission of the truth.

You don’t want to lie to him. 

You’re sitting here, in a cave that he so beautifully lit as best he can, on top of a bed that he made just for you to be comfortable, after he’s helped you pee about twelve times a day for the last two days. He’s been nothing but kind. 

And it’s not that you feel like you owe him answers because of that. Nor, in fact, that you think he feels you owe him answers. His quiet, unassuming patience in the dim intimacy of this cave is proof enough of that. 

No, it’s not that. 

It’s that you’ve been alone for so long. You’ve never said this to anyone.

And after all this, once you’re back at your hut and you’ve fixed his ship together, he’s going to leave. And you’re never going to see him again, anyway. 

So. 

“Truthfully,” you say, “as much as I like it here, it’s not where I’d choose to be. If I had another choice.” 

Instead of staying still and silent, he starts to nod. His gaze is unwavering, solid and stable, weaving its way into the tension and uncertainty beneath your skin, soothing it.

Grogu gets up and waddles over to you. He climbs clumsily into your lap.

Then, with a quick look to Grogu, Mando says, “I understand.”

And that, those simple words, make something release in your chest.

The weight of your confession doesn’t feel as heavy as you’d expected. In fact, it feels like something has lifted in the air between the three of you. Like even the kid understands. 

Well.

This is new. 

-

As the third morning in the cave rolls around, you wake up feeling much better. 

Once you’ve relieved your always-full bladder, you tell Mando as much, staggering back into the cave and to your bed. “You can stop over-watering me now,” you tease as he lets you back against the wall, gentle. Your hands are on the backs of his arms, and slide all the way down them as he moves away. You wish you could linger there, and the way he moves so slowly, his visor gazing down into your sleepy eyes, makes you think that he wishes that, too. 

As your palms brush against his wrists, he seems to catch himself. He pulls away quickly and turns to distract himself with the kid.

“So, you’re ready to travel?” He asks. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, staring at him from behind. He has a nice behind. (And you need to stop. Immediately.)

“You can lean on me. We’ll take it slow, I promise.” 

Kriff, say that again… “I’ll be alright. You’ve got enough to carry.” 

He looks at you again. “I’m leaving the parts here,” he says, like that should be obvious. 

“What?” You frown. “But your ship…” 

“Once we find our way back, and you’re safe, I’ll come back for them.” 

“Mando, I can manage. Seriously, we should take the parts. You’ve been here long enough.” 

The helmet tilts. “You trying to get rid of me?” It would concern you, if the teasing in his tone wasn’t arousingly obvious.

You just about manage to recover from the stirring in your belly, and you laugh, “Totally. Sick of you already.” 

The kid, standing beside him, looks at you and makes a sad noise. His ears turn down towards the ground. 

Kriff. “Hey, I’m just kidding,” you assure him with a smile. As a peace offering, you reach your hands out to him, and he relaxes in an instant, immediately plodding over to you and climbing into your lap. You hold him, give him a quick hug, then just let him sit there. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m actually gonna miss you,” you whisper into his ear. He coos happily, tugging at a loose thread on your coat.

When you look up, Mando is, of course, staring at you. This time, you know for sure that it’s at both you and the kid.

“What?” You ask. 

“Nothing,” he answers after a moment of hesitation. “I’m going to pack up. Then we can move. You okay to sit with the kid?” 

“You know I am,” you smile, and watch as Mando nods and heads outside.

That pang in your chest is back. Well, you’re not sure when it turned from a slow warmth into a pang. 

But it’s there. Too obvious to ignore. 

For a few miles, you manage pretty well. It took some convincing, but you got Mando to agree to taking the parts along with him in the end. You do lean on him, but only when moving over particularly rough terrain, fallen logs, or exposed tree roots. 

“How we doing?” Mando asks at around noon. 

“Fine,” you say, feeling a little breathless. 

“You sure?” 

“I’m sure. We can stop soon for a break.” 

Another hour passes, your ankle is starting to throb, and you’re really fucking glad that you saved that ice pack for this exact moment. 

Mando sits you down on a fallen log, keeping his arm around you until you’re properly seated, lingering just a little too long for you to tame the way it makes your heart beat wildly. To feel the heat of him through his flight suit, your hands and arms pressed to parts of him not covered by armour, just the soft parts; it’s a lot. When you first saw him, this wall of metal, you never thought you’d see any further than that. Kriff, you never even thought he’d get closer to your hut than he was when you had your blaster pointed at him. 

Maybe that would have been best. Because if he’d just left, if there was another way for him to get the help he needed, you wouldn’t be thinking about him the way you are right now. 

The softness of the crook of his elbow, the curve of his waist and hip. The warmth of his skin that you have yet to see an inch of. All of the weapons strapped to him, so close to you, close enough that if it were anyone else, you’d be scared. 

But it’s Mando. 

This might be the least scared you’ve been in a lifetime. 

He cracks the ice pack to activate it, then kneels down in front of you. Reaching out to grab a smaller log, he places it under your ankle, elevates your leg slightly. Then his gloved fingers tug at the hem of your trousers. “Can I?” He asks. 

Kriff. You nod, unable to form words. 

The rough-yet-smoothness of the gloves is all you feel at first, brushing delicately against your skin as he lifts your trousers, then unlaces your boots, gently pulling them off, followed by your socks. Your ankle is more swollen than it had been this morning, but you’d expected that. 

And, besides, that is not what you’re thinking about right now. 

Instead your mind can only focus on the softness of his hold under your foot, the gentle way he places the ice pack on top of it. The heat of his hand starts to come through. You wish it was his bare skin. Wish you knew what his skin is like. Is it calloused, or soft from always protecting them? Does he have scars? Is the hair on his arms dark, light, a thin covering or thicker, perfect to run your fingers through—

His hands are gone before you realise it. It takes your glitching mind a second to catch up.

You chase him with your eyes, silently wishing for him to come back. 

But then. 

Then. 

As he turns away, he reaches for the flask in his satchel. You watch his hands lift to his helmet, take a gentle hold of the base of it. At first you panic, thinking he’s about to remove his helmet, no you don’t have to do that it’s okay—

But he just lifts it the tiniest bit, such a small movement that you only know it has been lifted because he puts the rim of his flask to his lips and takes a sip. 

You can’t see his skin, not a hint of it. But you can hear him drinking, hear the water against his lips, the gentle gulps as he swallows. 

And the way it entrances you, takes you away from the forest and the pain of your ankle and the fact that this is so not appropriate for you to be thinking—yeah, it’s probably for the best that he can’t ever show his face to you.

You look away before he even lowers the helmet again. 

-

Maybe the worst part about all this is that you’re starting to dread Mando and the kid leaving. 

That’s not how this was supposed to go, not how any of this was supposed to play out. You helped him because it was the right thing to do, because it’s exactly what They would tell you not to do, because your life has been the same every single fucking day since you got here. 

But that’s been fine. It’s been safe. 

“Pass me that wrench?” Mando asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

You pass him it, noting the tilt of his helmet in a wordless ‘thanks’ before he turns back to his job. He’s up on a ladder, leaning against the ship’s exterior wall with one of the panels fully off, fixing something to do with the foundation for the body. 

His ship is bigger than you’d expected. He tells you that it’s bigger than his old ship, the Razor Crest, but only by a little. “It’s a similar shape,” he’d said, “but it has two bunks and more space. For the kid.” He has a star fighter too, apparently, docked at some other base off-world with a friend of his. It’s funny to imagine him with friends, though you’re not sure why. Especially because, since getting to know him the last few days, you know how generous he is. How kind, helpful. Gentle, despite everything. 

Why wouldn’t he have friends?

Beneath him, you sit on a crate and lean against the ship, waiting for him to give you more instructions. The engine has been mostly fixed now, as much as it’s ever going to be out here in the middle of nowhere using scrounged-up parts. He’s just getting the last of the body work done, enough to make sure it’s aerodynamically sound. 

It’s interesting, watching him work. You ask a lot of questions, and every time you do, you expect a frustrated sigh or an exasperated response. But he answers every question thoroughly, and it doesn’t even distract him from his work. 

The sun is warm against your face. The afternoon of Mando’s fifth day on this planet is drawing to a close, fading into the evening. As the sky turns to duller shades of blue, tinted with oranges and pinks, you can’t help but admire the way he looks beneath the light. His armour is always the same, always so distinctive, yet it reflects different lights in different ways. Sometimes it makes the beskar appear darker, like a gun metal grey. Other times it’s a bright silver. Then there are times like this, when it goes with the colour of the sky, reflects the beauty of everything surrounding him. 

You think back to the light in the cave, how that looked different still. The urge to see the Galaxy comes over you again, though this time it’s not staring at his ship and dreaming about taking off in it that does it; this time, it’s wondering what he looks like in even more places, more environments. Does the metal get hot in the sunshine? Or is it always as cool as it’s been when you’ve had the chance to feel it before? 

The kid is sitting on the ground in front of you. There’s a beetle scuttling around in the mud, and Grogu is toying with it, blocking it off when it runs one way, then doing the same when it runs the other. You wonder if he’s going to eat it, or if he’s just having fun by being cruel to the little six-legged creature. 

“Don’t play with your food,” Mando says to him, answering your silent question. 

Grogu looks up at him. His ears turn downwards, sulking. Mando ignores his obvious pleas to change his mind, turning back to his work. When Grogu looks back at the beetle, he only just catches it before it runs off, and instead of toying with it anymore, he just shoves it in his mouth with a loud crunch. 

You find yourself smiling at him. He smiles back, ears lifting again. 

“Alright,” Mando starts to step down from the ladder. You reach out and hold one of the ladder’s legs, knowing he probably doesn’t need you to, but still not wanting to risk it. Ladders make you nervous. “Think that’s the best we’re going to get.” 

You look up to the ship. He’s fixed the panel back on again. Now all that remains is the burnt metal from his “interesting landing”, with some bends in it, exposing little sections of the framework beneath. It’s definitely a patchwork job. But it looks better than it did when you got here this morning. So.

“How’s your leg?” He asks as he folds up the ladder. 

“Good,” you answer. It’s stretched out in front of you, propped on another crate. “Ship looks good.” 

With a resigned sigh, he puts his hand on his hips, and tilts his helmet to look up at his handiwork. “No, she doesn’t. But she’ll do.” Then he looks back to you, “I couldn’t have fixed it without your help. Thank you.” 

You shift under his gaze, unable to help it. Every time he looks at you it feels like his eyes can see right through you, and the part that makes you uncomfortable is that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Self-conscious and disgustingly aware of your own inappropriate, lustful thoughts? Yes. Uncomfortable? No. You don’t think it ever could. 

“Of course,” you say eventually. “And, hey, I’ve got a scar to remember our little adventure by, huh?” 

He laughs softly. You see the shake of his chest as the chuckle comes through his modulator. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” 

“Hm, no. But there’s no gift shop around here. So.” 

He shakes his head, and you imagine, hope, that he’s smiling under all that beskar. He certainly looks casual, a hand on one hip, one leg relaxed while his weight rests on the other. 

“Do you always stare so much?” You find yourself asking with a teasing, daring quirk of your brow. 

“Yes.”

“At everyone, or just me?”

He pauses. Your heart rate spikes briefly as you wait for his response to your terrible excuse for flirting. “At everyone,” he answers eventually, and disappointment starts to set in before he says, “But it’s harder to look away from you.” 

Oh. 

The disappointment quickly shifts to nervousness, heart beating fast again as you clench your hands in your lap. He just stands there, staring despite the awkward and loaded silence between you, and stares. As if he’s making his point by offering an example. 

You look away. Suddenly, your cheeks are hot. “You hungry?” You find yourself asking. 

He pauses again, then nods. “Yes.” 

“I’ll make us some dinner. You just come back to the hut whenever you’re ready.” It’s only as you stand to hobble back home that you realise he might not want that. You swivel back around to face him, backtrack, “I mean, unless you want to eat out here. Your ship’s fixed now, I guess you can—you can stay in that? You don’t have to come back with me. I’ll be okay.” 

Again, getting more and more infuriating with each silence he lets stretch out, he just stares. Kriffing hells, does he ever stop!? 

“Would you let me cook for you?” He asks, finally.

You weren’t expecting that. 

Shifting weight to your good leg, you raise your eyebrows. “You want to cook me dinner?” 

He nods once. “Yes. To thank you for all your help. And as a farewell.” 

You’ve been trying your hardest not to think about that part. It sits in your stomach, cold and dreadful and confusing, too far down for you to swallow it. “Alright,” you agree with a soft smile. “I can’t promise I’ve got any decent ingredients, though. You might have to perform a miracle.” 

“I’m up to the challenge,” he says, hooking his thumb over the belt around his hips. You’re distracted by it, finding your eyes sliding down to his middle before you catch yourself and look back up. The tilt of his helmet suggests he might have seen your gaze shift. “I’ll walk back with you. Just give me a minute.” 

You can’t find a reason to refuse. 

♡ updates posted Mondays and Thursdays ♡

notes: thank you for reading! all interactions are appreciated as always, but comments and reblogs especially fuel my need for validation ❤️ as always, the title and lyrics at the start are from taylor swift's "daylight"

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[possibilistfanfiction]

prompt literally anything footy au

[teeny tiny ch5 teaser]

//

group stage, game 1

'hello,' you say, answering your phone the second coach superion calls. you leave your hotel in ten minutes, so you had scheduled it precisely, to be able to hopefully talk to ava before you leave.

her face is slightly pixelated on screen, but you don't care. 'hello, beatrice,' she says. 'ava is just waking up from a nap, so i thought i'd call and then hand it off.'

'yes,' you say, relieved that, so far, it seems like your meticulously crafted spreadsheet has been working: ava has yet to be left alone at the hospital, and when you have talked — between training and recovery and team meals for you; scans and pain meds and physical therapy and a lot of naps for her — there had always been someone to help hold the phone, to situate her favorite blanket you'd had michael get from your house. to love and comfort her: not as well as you would, not like you desperately yearn to do, but enough so that she knows she's not alone. she's cared for, deeply, and always.

'she had a good day,' coach superion says. 'i think she's just a little worn out. plus, she wanted to nap so she'd be awake for your game.'

'okay. well, that's positive overall.'

'the doctors say she's doing really well. they want to transfer her to the rehab facility soon.'

you ache again: you aren't there. you can't sit with ava in the ambulance; you can't hold her hand; you can't sleep overnight in her new room, just so that she wakes up to someone familiar. to someone she loves. 'i knew she would,' you say around the lump in your throat.

coach superion smiles gently. 'dr. reya will call you tomorrow, she said, to go over all the details. but let me get ava for you, yes? i knew you leave soon.'

you wait, as patiently as possible, for coach superion to go into ava's room and your heart constricts and then releases when you see her in her bed, sitting up slightly with a few pillows propped up behind her, the big back brace they'd put her in still and uncomfortable-looking but doing its important job. her hair is greasy, pulled back into a bun — you make a note that, next time, you should have chanel come in a day earlier to wash it for her; you'll have to shift around some things in the schedule but you know you can make it work — and she looks exhausted, but when mother superion holds the phone up for her, she smiles bravely.'

'hey, susperstar,' she says. 'ready to kick some ass today? set the tone for a masterclass world cup?'

there's no one else around: it's not an interview; there's no need to be modest because ava never has been — about you, especially, and her utmost trust and faith in your as a player, a captain, a person. 'i want three assists,' you admit, and she grins.

'that's my girl.' she laughs and there's a part of you that heals. 'you would want an assist hat trick instead of goals.'

it's fond. you shrug. 'start the tournament off the way i want to finish it, right?'

'fuck yeah,' ava says. 'if you score a goal at any point, though, do a little celebration for me or something, okay? just for the gay drama, if nothing else.'

you roll your eyes, but, 'okay, i will.'

'amazing.'

'i have to go soon.' you frown. 'but coach superion told me you had a good day so far? they feel like you can move to rehab soon?'

'yeah,' ava says. 'i sat up in a chair today for, like, a whole minute.'

you don't care, at all, whether ava is paralyzed, completely or partially; you don't care if she plays football again: you love her; you love her. but you know her goal is to get back on the pitch if she can, so you smile. 'that's incredible, darling.'

she shrugs. 'not quite like you, but it's something. and my hands worked well enough for me to cut a whole steak.'

finally, for the first time in days, you laugh. 'who brought you a steak? for lunch?'

she grins. 'yasmine. isn't it all on your little schedule?'

'well, yes, but not what anyone is bringing.'

'sure, sure. but, anyway, i finally don't feel nauseous, and she asked what i wanted, so, you know. go big or go home, right? and, bea, that steak fucked, okay? took me a little time to cut it but i did it, and it was so good. so worth it.'

'i'm really proud of you,' you say, aching to reach out and touch her. you would if you could.

she blushes. 'i think that's my line, right now.' she sighs. 'okay, go be the best in the world. i'll be watching, so, you know, if you could wipe sweat off your face with the bottom of your jersey when a camera is on you or something, that would make my day.'

you laugh. 'how about i send you a... quality picture... afterward?'

she groans. 'yes please. i need to increase the abs spank bank for when i finally get cleared to masturbate again.'

coach superion clears her throat and ava glances behind the camera.

'my bad,' she says, then looks back at you. 'but seriously, please do.'

'bye, ava.'

she laughs. 'bye, bea. can't wait to see your abs later, one way or another.'

you roll your eyes. 'i love you.'

'yeah, i love you too.'

and, well, if you notch four assists, just to show off a little, and send ava a mirror selfie in just your sports bra and compression shorts — you are certainly starting the tournament exactly how you want to finish it.

[xviruserrorx]

Title: "An Undesirable Hunger"

I really really really enjoyed writing this one. I changed tenses than from what I normally use and kinda matched the style to how I'm writing for my main fic (which why haven't I've done this before?) And Its good, I think it's good. Anyways... For @merlinmicrofic and the prompt "Hunger/Hungry" and I'm trying to do a fic everyday for Aromantic-Spec Awareness Week so I wrote for the prompt "Oriented AroAceApl"

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Aromantic Awareness Week 2024 - Tumblr | Ao3 - [-> Next]

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Prompt(s): Hunger/Hungry, Oriented AroAceApl

Relationship(s): Morgana-Centric, minor relationships - Morgana & Gwen, Morgana & Arthur Pendragon & Uther Pendragon

Character(s): Morgana Pendragon, Uther Pendragon, Arthur Pendragon, Gwen

Important Tag(s): Pre-Season/Series 01, Big Sister Morgana, Siblings Morgana & Arthur Pendragon, barely mentioned but it's there, Background Morgana & Gwen, Background Morgana & Uther Pendragon, Food as a metaphor, Oriented AroAceApl Morgana

Rating: Gen

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 500

“Surely one of Camelot's fine young men has caught your eye.” She bites her smile but it fades for her soon. “Perhaps you'll even marry,” Uther continues.

Or

Over the years Morgana can't find herself to care for trivial things which she finds soon rears it's head on her twenty-first birthday.

Continue reading below or over on Ao3

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It was always there, the part of the garden reserved when Morgana came to Camelot. For a tree, Uther said. Wasn't till three summers into her stay when the gardener showed her the seed and planted it.

Though it wouldn't bear fruit; not for years. The garden was new, and she was impatient.

She's a woman, as all the castle whispered. It's at the feast celebrating those twenty-one summer's that Uther rambles on, consumed by wine.

“Surely one of Camelot's fine young men has caught your eye.”

Arthur makes a face, sticks his tongue out and lifts his fork to continue his meal. She hasn't even begun to eat.

She bites her smile but it fades for her soon.

“Perhaps you'll even marry,” Uther continues.

She places her fork back and brings her hands to her lap. She listens and doesn't speak as he drones on about the different Lord's son's and newly knighted men.

The feast can't end quick enough before she's back in her chambers.

“Here, my lady.” Gwen hands over an orange. It's peeled and she can see the white pith from the peel is stuck under her nails. “I know you didn't eat.”

She takes it. It's not sweet, not savory, not anything perhaps. She smiles as she feels the skin break and the pulp burst between her teeth. It's bitter. She eats the whole thing. Her fingers are sticky and she feels full despite it all.

She still smells the fruit on her hands as she sits, embroidering the next morning.

Gwen runs her hand over wrinkled sheets. “Attending the tournament?”

“I have to. Uther's holding it for me.” She pulls the needle up and through and feels for the underside. “I can't see why.”

“For potential suitors,” Gwen replies matter-of-factly.

The cloth leaves her blind as the needle pokes through and breaks her skin. It's coated red and blood pools on the surface of her finger as she gasps from the sudden pain.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Yes. Silly me.” She licks the blood from her wound. It's rotted, it's been for years.

It doesn't leave her mouth. The same as Gwen stays in her eyesight as she sits for dinner that night.

“You've caught the eye of Sir Bertram,” Uther remarks as the plates are laid before them.

“Have I?” She isn't hungry. Why isn't she hungry?

Uther smiles, nods, favoring the honied fruits.

Grimacing, she pushes her plate away from her.

“Aren't you going to eat?” Arthur talks; mouth full and crumbs all around it.

She shakes her head. “Not hungry.”

She's made up her mind as a servant takes her plate away. Not more or less. Just something different.

So she walks where the seed was planted. Red cherries hang on the branches that have taken years to grow. 

She rips them from their stems. They stain her fingers and stain her lips as she bites into them. 

She smiles; their bittersweet. 

So she cradles her hunger and indulges it.

[klasdfghjk]

What did you think when you left me this way

by Lingering_Bastard

Chapter 1

The cuff of my jumper had started to fray this past hour, though I could not even recall when I first started pulling at it with my fidgeting hand. And my fingers are starting to become numb from the repeated action. Cracked nail polish I should have redone before the party falls away in suit, I liked this jumper. I’m going to burn it later.

The night is a delicate balance of warm air and a cool breeze, that clashes with the energetic music which fills every inch of this house. It’s loud and evasive, I can’t even catch onto the beat. It would be a wasted effort to pay attention anyway, nothing can drown out this mood. I’m painfully aware of that, and as much as I would love to go downstairs and turn it up several notches, just to feel the bass tremor through my bones, I don’t believe there is any louder option. Surely the neighbors are thin on patience, ready to call in a noise complaint.

I know it would be rude to ask, considering the hour is already late, but I don't know who’s house this is. The red tile roof, white painted exterior, and nice timber porch I half stumbled up were not very recognizable. The front yard was impressive, surely I would have remembered being here before. What did I come here to celebrate? I hazily remember picking out a group gift at the mall last Saturday, a day I found too hot and broke out into an embarrassing sweat in the food court. While my friends ate burgers for lunch, I didn’t bother wasting my money on another meal I'd end up scrunching up with regret and trashing; My stomach had been filled with rocks for weeks, growling in hunger but unable to digest. I remember dressing myself up for this evening, glaring at the mirror with uneven make-up and trembling hands. I broke a fishnet and decided against trying on another. The terror of the evening was looming over me, anxiety becoming electricity in my veins. It was painful, and I grabbed the first jumper in my wardrobe for comfort. I should have looked at what I chose, but my mind was wholly focused on my heartbeat, and fighting back the dread festering in my stomach. I left my room as it changed to a dazzling shade of red, the sunset painting my walls for the evening. I car pooled to this address with teenagers I had never met, but they still greeted me with smiles. A comfort in its own.

The decoration was actually quite lovely, I did take note. Not much to do when your phone is dead and social stamina alike. I skipped past the drinks and snacks, which I would have loved to devour if this party had been a few months ago. I lost my carpool group immediately, which was no worry, I'd expected about as much. That was not the turn-off; It was when my first few conversations with these strangers grew boring, both painfully empty and exhausting, I decided that tonight was not for me. I let my body escape to the second floor balcony, a good vantage point to watch the party. The colorful bulb lights, strung between the roof gutters, illuminated the tables, bean bags, and inflatable couch. You had stair access to the backyard beneath, where the lit pool was being currently used by insanely hyper teenagers. My mind was at peace for a while, soaking up the atmosphere, just avoiding life for a moment. In just an hour I observed a whole three games of failed volleyball, a pool noodle army fighting for what looked like a rubber duck, a few belly-flops and 55 cannonballs. Not to mention the couples making out. It actually looked fun, if I had any sort of energy for it. I didn't bring a change of swimwear, unfortunately. The night progressed rapidly, as usual. Beer Pong started and many left the pool to act as an improv cheer team.

I liked this party; Any teenager would. Free food, 'cool' parents that didn't bat an eye at underage drinking, enough people to mingle with. I'd even caught a whiff of smoke, the good ol' green someone is probably making some good cash selling. Yes, a good chaotic and happy party. It was a shame my hands had not stopped shaking, tearing at my cuffs and the railing in front of me. The anxiety keeping me at the edge of my seat, unwilling to move. Oh no, I couldn't leave, not until I'd at least seen a glimpse of him.

He arrived after me, as usual. Late, as usual. And wearing, the usual. Yet he still brought in a crowd with his magnetic energy. And I could appreciate that they gave him a distraction, all the delirious fun he needed. After all, Kevin doesn’t just come to parties for the sake of attendance, he always has a second agenda. In fact, he never even cared where his girlfriend was throughout the night.

I bet he wouldn’t even miss a beat if I started making out with someone. Right. In. Front. Of. Him.

Kevin came in half an hour ago, I only knew because someone downstairs cheered ‘Khatchadourian’. Who else in this entire country has such a ridiculous family name? He didn’t look for me, or ask where I was, or if I came; It’s not something that I could’ve heard, I just know he didn’t. He never does. He stuck to the bottom floor doing god knows what, unknowingly giving me peace on the second floor. Then, just as I had expected, now that beer pong was called, he takes his scheming outside.

I love his eyes, I hate to say it. When I first met him, they were the first thing that caught my attention. He looked as if he knew the secrets to everything. And I mistook something in them for softness, for natural curiosity. Now all I see is a nonchalant stare, the observant sweep of a room, the glint when he spies prey.

We lock eyes tonight for the first time, as I’m leaning over the balcony, still seated on a bar stool. My ankles are crossed and I feel my demeanor to anyone looks bored. I’m just a pretty, bored girl, sitting alone on a party balcony. And when I lock eyes with him, I’m reminded why no one would even dare come my way with mischievous intent.

An involuntary shiver jolts through me, goosebumps hidden by long sleeves, as he carelessly tilts his head upwards, seemingly as though he knew all along where I was situated. It felt similar to a game of hide and seek, but one where the seeker knew all your hiding spots. He doesn’t wave, or smile, or nod. Looking at me with cold eyes was his greeting. He keeps his gaze on me long enough to assert our knowledge of each other, then he casually drops his attention on me, and continues with whatever mind games he was pulling tonight. He frightens people, somewhat. I believe I was overly excited to tell friends at school we were dating. I use to constantly find myself being flirted with, hit on at gatherings and parties. Then Kevin began making his moves on me, and it was as if every man on Earth stopped finding me attractive. I can’t imagine him threatening anyone over me, he’s never shown any possessive traits over me. I’ve come to a conclusion that other people that know Kevin just don’t want to fall out of his favour.

I miss kissing strangers.

While his gaze dropped, I continued to stare at my hearts most wanted possession. A boy that seemly could not love back. I use to see everything though a shade of Rose, fooling myself that every action he did was wonderful. That any words spoken to me were out of love. I adored his smile and his intellect. I use to complete homework or read books as he practiced archery. Then he’d notice me staring at him for too long, my attention transfixed to his beauty, like a marble statue of a Greek god, and he would smirk with the cockiest attitude before pulling me in for a kiss. When he still use to kiss me. Which doesn’t matter. As much as I miss those soft lips or tight embrace, what hurts the most is that he doesn’t even talk to me.

I noticed his ticks too late in the relationship. Too many dates and too many secrets in. The way he didn’t quite treat everyone as human, or on par with him. As if we were participants in his game, or a new sub-par species to be watched. The way he would fake his grades to be average, the way he would collect computer viruses, and I never questioned his clothing sense. It also annoys me that I had never seen him eat in front of me, ever. And how, though almost undetectably and what I thought I had just imagined, resentful he was towards his own little sister.

My mother would call me and Kevin inseparable, and likewise, Eva would openly welcome me into her home whenever I pleased. I should have watched her more than I watched Kevin. She always seemed to have this look on her face when I was with her son. Not that motherly protection, no, nothing about that look was jealousy or protectiveness of Kevin. She was always looking at me, on edge, worried, biting back words. She had the expression of a woman who was letting her puppy play with a precious toy, and I was that toy, and she wanted to pull me away as quickly as possible. I overlooked the strange relationship Kevin and his mother had. Much as I had overlooked Kevin. Skipped right into everything wonderful about him, if there ever were such things.

Our first party together was my first red flag. That one was at a good friend’s house, dear lord, nothing could have gone worse for me that night. The number of people that buzzed into that house, it must have held many gate crashers. She didn’t care. And that night I lost Kevin within the first 20 minutes of entering. At least, back then I would have said lost, compared to the facts I now hold, he knowingly took his chance and slipped away from me. I was left alone to face questions of “Where is your boyfriend?. “Oh, he’s around here somewhere” I laughed, hiding deep down my bitterness, and the cold stab he had given me by leaving me alone. He knew I didn’t like being left without warning.

I worked myself into such a panic that by the end of the night I thought he wanted to break up with me. When we finally reunited, it was well past midnight and I was exhausted. He looked at my teary face and gave me an impossibly hard-to-decipher sigh, probably meant for himself. Kev coolly reassured me he just got ‘caught up’ with some friends. But that was a lie I easily looked through. Though too tired to fight the explanation and just glad he was still with me, I nodded as believably as possible, soothing down my dress and giving him a loving smile. My heart broke at that moment. I never told anyone how I cried myself to sleep, the restless hours having me rethink my whole relationship with Kevin Khatchadourian.

Kevin's attitude from that party continued into our everyday life. He was too busy for me suddenly, and some days I would be over at his house having tea with Eva as a substitute for my loneliness. She was a darling woman, and she spoke to me a lot about travel. The memories she was conjuring up would get her so worked up in her nostalgia, I would wonder sometimes if she would notice if I left. Would she continue monologuing to herself? She told me many places to visit, but many sentences ended along the lines of “take a friend” “It’s a good solo trip.” Somehow her knowledge of Kevin’s loveless nature was reassuring. It was only a shame I was still full of love, being the idiot I am, I could not stop falling for any date invites (many he stood up), or casual hangouts (which was always just me sitting alone as he either paid more attention to his friends or wholeheartedly practiced archery). And of course, I had to learn my lessons more than once, as I kept ‘taking’ him to parties.

It was 11:30pm, which was probably an early time to finish, when I walked around the house with a drunken buzz, asking the remaining guests if they had seen my boyfriend. In fact, one did. They said he left over an hour ago. My heart sank so quickly, I could almost throw up. My insides twisted along with that, I felt a slight wobble in my step. The very air I was breathing was tainted with betrayal. And I still had the strength to laugh and pretend that I ‘totally forgot’ he had told me he was going. Hollywood could hire me.

Although there was the inevitability of this deep fear, I wasn't prepared for the first time feeling so brutal. The beginning of many nights he would leave me all alone. Gut-wrenching; our first blunder was nothing compared to this, the pain practically tenfold. I didn’t even bother telling him I was upset, he knew. And, hurtfully, it became a habit afterward that we never left a party at the same time. Not too soon after that habit, Kevin started telling me to not worry about picking him up beforehand, and he would arrive whenever. The exact word ‘whenever’.

Eventually I stopped trying to find him, I supposed he didn’t come to every outing I told him about. I’m sure he didn’t invite me along to every outing he was told about.

My seating area is becoming crowded, and I’m sure my limbs have gone numb from staying in the same position for so long. I hop off the bar stool, noticing the beer pong group had dissipated a while ago, and carefully place one foot after another as I quietly descend the wooden stairs to the backyard. At the bottom, I see one of the numerous ice buckets scatted around the property that hold drinks. I grab one at random, just to hold, just to stop pulling at my cuffs, and wander over to the now crowd less pool. Still a few swimmers in the shallow end, but no one of bother.

As I sit cross-legged on a dry piece of concrete, my mind starts regurgitating more memories of the past I repressed as if tonight the stars cannot take my lying. I grip the bottle painfully as I observe the still healing wound on my upper thigh. My shorts are long enough to cover it, but sitting like this hikes them up enough.

It happened at the worst party, two weeks ago. I arrived a bit later than planned, and way later than the party started. It was in a full riot, I think my mind was already screaming at me to be out the door before I'd even stepped into the living room. Right when I was debating over joining the ruthless chugging contest, or finding one of my classmates tolerable enough to hang around with, a fight broke out. It was violent, as any fight gets. I foolishly rushed to the sound of breaking glass and cursing. Curiosity? Trying to help? Who knows. There had never been a moment with such awful timing in my life. Just as I turned the corner, pushing past a small crowd, one of the brawlers lunged at the other. As he knocked the other over, I had placed myself perfectly in the line of danger. The guy's hand had a death grip on the broken bottle, the jagged glass sliced through the thin fabric of my outfit easily and caught my thigh, carving painfully through the flesh as I went down screaming with them.

The fight stopped immediately, not at my scream but at the sight of blood, soaking my dress and pooling onto the floor. Adrenaline pumped through me, putting a pause on the pain. Through the worried crowd and my now franticly anxious attackers swarming me, I saw Kev. I knew immediately who started the fight, or should I say, ignited it. He didn’t look the least bit concerned as we locked eyes, and he turned away from the scene. I bit my cheek and held pressure with a towel as someone drove me to the hospital, we couldn’t call an ambulance to a party of underage drinkers. I listened to my cover story so many times they were the only words out of my mouth for several hours. It was all an accident. Wasn’t it, my love?

Maybe for a sick few weeks, I started to accept his torture as part of our relationship. I fell for him too hard too quickly, and after a year of being together, I still feel as if I barely know him. And there is no true way of truly understanding him, not without either fearing or hating him. It's come to my attention that even with an aching gap in my heart, some nights I've enjoyed not seeing or talking to him at the parties. It was better that way. It has become, more natural, easier, to just not talk to him at all. No matter how much it hurts, I know it’s right.

I leave my drink by the pool, unopened. My head spins, I’ve become a rush of thoughts. Am I not good enough for him? Why would a boy like him even choose to date me? In fact, it's even more curious that he chose to date. How much of our time together was a lie? I cannot tell. But he’s upset me too much, I would actually dread to know the answer. I would rather pretend that some of it, some of our time together, was real. No matter if it was all fake.

I notice the drink I pulled out was alcoholic, giving a momentary thought about chugging it before chuckling at myself. No, if I'm feeling my pain tonight, best do it sober. I leave it unopened by the pool as I stand and stretch out my cold and achy legs. Turning, I walk back into the house, as willingly as possible. I don't want to pretend I have no love for him; I do. In every moment since we met, no matter how devastated I felt, no matter how much hurt there was in me; I loved the boy as foolishly as possible. I loved how handsome he was, how I could trace his face for hours and still get lost in it, how we use to talk for hours on end and it felt like minutes, the way my hands easily combed through his hair, and how he would hold me when I felt my world was crashing and somehow become an ocean of calm I could fall into.

Oh, I am madly in love with Kevin Khatchadourian. And I know, can’t change that. But now, finally, the hope that I was clinging to breaks, and I know he doesn’t love me. He could never love me, it's just in his nature. To end my misery in this paper-thin relationship is all I can do. I feel choked by that knowledge, a hollow void in my chest aches, my immunity to this pain now worn off, just like the pain of the glass, it comes sharp, the agony screaming for my attention. It doesn’t wear away, but I can’t cry. Not just yet.

In the end, I’ve been learning to lose him, haven’t I? The distance we’ve been keeping, the separation from each other is apparent. I saw this coming from the first party, I saw this coming from the last. His jacket I'd kept in my wardrobe that I accidentally picked out in a rush, the one I'm wearing tonight, is the closest thing to contact we've had in a month. It twists my mind around and confuses me every day. Why hold the title of girlfriend, lover, partner? We are far from it now. I want this to all be over.

I reach the door well enough, turn the cold handle, and take my first steps onto the front porch. My house is only a few blocks away, I can make it safely home. Not my first night walk anyways. I'm giddy for a moment, thinking I'm able to slip away, I can already envision getting home, making some hot chocolate, watching some late-night tv to rid my head of thoughts. It's only when I reach the bottom step I notice there was no telltale thud of that heavy door shutting behind me. Huh, guess he took notice I was going to leave. Didn’t think that would happen. Yet again, Kevin surprises me. I turn a little too slowly, facing the boy at the door, knowing my home plans are already trashed.

“Enjoy your night?” He smirks, casually taking a few steps toward me, but never descending the stairs. His query sounds more bored than anything. And unfortunately, even under the circumstances, with his messy black hair and dark eyes you could lose yourself in, Kev still looks like the most gorgeous guy I have ever seen. We share a breath under the scrutiny of the porch light.

“Enjoy yours?” I ask back, quirking my neck. It comes out just above a whisper, but calm.

“I am still enjoying it, in fact.” Still smirking, he looks behind me, almost a roll of his eyes. Left and right, the front yard home to a few party goes having various conversations. “Just wanted to say goodnight, that’s all.”

I almost chuckle in madness. Goodnight, huh? He never wishes me a goodnight anymore. But I have no room for another conversation. In my heart, I cannot find the right way to express what I’m going through. I want so very very badly to both push him down the porch steps, but also lean in and press my lips against his, one last time. He looks as if he's about to go on, but I interject.

“Well, I won't ruin the fun for you. Goodbye.”

I say it with a whisper of a smile, the words almost foreign to me, as he closes that devilish mouth of his. I don't want more pointless words. He can’t fill my head with more beautiful lies. The last goodbye comes out softer then I wanted, but blunt nonetheless. Very final.

‘Goodbye’. It echoes between us. The music seems to stop, and it’s just me and him alone on the porch, eyes meeting. For the first time I think he notices how tired, how defeated I look. And I leave him at that, as I turn away and hurry towards the front gate.

The blood rushing through my ears covers up any sound he could have made. I don’t look back to see if he said anything. If he stands watching me leave, or simply stepped back inside. Now, it doesn’t matter. The final bell has tolled. He never stopped me from leaving.

I let the tears fall freely down my face as I walk home. They are hot and never-ending. But they feel comforting. I finally cry out my heart, months of repressing the hurt and confusion, and rejection. This time I sob because I’ve escaped. It’s both devastating to lose him, and so very satisfying to finally let go. My knees tremble, but I power on. Soon, in between the sobs and sniffles, I’m laughing. I’m smiling through snot and tears.

Everything is better now. It’s going to be fine. I like it better this way, don’t I?

[rockydonetale]

Worst week of their life.

(TW this fic contains physical AND verbal abuse, implied broken leg, starvation of a child, brief disordered eating, neglect, self blaming, yelling, gaslighting/emotional manipulation! If that's gonna trigger you, please leave!)

(Like seriously, while there's no blood, it's definitely something that could be triggering!)

(Note: Most of these fics will use they/them and the name Frisk for Rocky, as it's not in the multiverse yet!)

Frisk had a lot of bad days, before they ran away. Mostly, that depended on if their parents were having a bad day or not.

Most of the time, their parents had a bad day.

But, out of all of them, there's one specifically that still haunts Frisk, that still make shivers go down their spine. That makes them look at a plate of food and think "I can't eat that"

Their parents were both at work, and this eight year old Frisk was hungry, like, they hadn't eaten since the day before, and they had only gotten one meal then.

Now, Frisk had a basic understanding on why their parents didn't let them eat often, to make sure that they didn't waste food. And yeah, it sucked that their parents always got two to three meals a day, and Frisk only ever got one—but they're younger, and don't even gave a job, so clearly they don't need it as much as their parents do!...

But they were hungry.

And they knew, they knew they shouldn't have done it, but their parents were out and their little eight year old brain concocted a plan. They'd sneak into the kitchen, sneak a slice of bread or two, put the bread away, and nobody epuld ever know what happened!

So with a goal in mind, they (out of habit, honestly) quietly tip toed into the room with food, even if it wasn't much. Frisk did, admittedly, feel a little guilty for doing this. But the hunger spoke louder than their consciousness.

So they grabbed a chair, dragging it over to the cabinet that held the glorious loaf, and climbed onto it. Once they reached the cabinet, all they had to do was get the prevention lock undone.

Sp they twisted, tugged, turned, did whatever they could to try getting it open. But, it refused, it refused to open itself and Frisk was getting frustrated.

Eventually, they put a foot up on the cabinet, trying their hardest to pull ot open. Who locks up food anyways!?

But, while standing on one leg, the chair lost its balance, and before they could react—CRASH! The chair tipped over, throwing them to the floor!

It took them a second to realize what had happened, and then, they started crying. Because, ow and loud noises weren't mixing well. Not only that, but they didn't even get their bread!

So eyes closed and throat going raw, they just laid there, not even thinking about the consequences of their actions...

Until the front door open. They jolted, trying to sit up as their mother came into the room. Immediately, her face paled, a look if horror on her face.

The chair? Broken. Plus the jar her great grandmother passed down to her? Shattered. There was scrap marks on the floor, and her paled face quickly turned red.

(ANOTHER TW, this is where the physical abuse comes in!)

Frisk's mother stormed over to the scared child, and grabbed them by the scalp of their hair, yanking them up! Frisk started crying again, fearful as their body shook, their heart racing.

The mother dragged Frisk across the ground, their legs kicking as she brought them by the basement door. The mother grabbed Frisk's chin with a painful grip, and forced them to stare her in the eyes.

"When your father hears about this, you'll wish you were dead!" And with that, she smacked Frisk's wrist, getting them to flinch.

"O-Ow!" They sheirked as the mother hit them again, harder this time. "Do you not understand the trouble you're in!?" She yelled, and Frusk had no where to go—they were trapped again the wall and their mother.

Smack, again!

"I-I didn't mean too!" Frisk tried, which only made their mother angrier.

"Stupid child!" As she struck their wrist again. "Why would you break your mother's heart like this!?"

Frisk whinced, and the mother sighed, giving them a slightly lighter slap on the wrist, before she gripped their wrist again. "You know I hate acting like this, but it's the only way you'll learn..."

With that, she reached over and opened the basement door, shoving Frisk into the stairwell. "I'll get you when you've learned your lesson..."

She slammed the door shut, and suddenly Frisk had no light. They rubbed their wrist nervously, tears still blurry their eyes, it felt like the skin was burning. Very, very carefully, they tried getting down the steps.

Occasionally, they slipped, and by the time they got down, their ankles were bruised and red... and they landed funny on their leg, it hurt really badly!

But, they did bring this apon themself, huh? They broke the rules, planned on hiding it, and never thinking about it again?

Why were they such a bad kid?

So they sat themself down on the cold ground, and curled up into a little ball as they began to rock themself back and fourth. About the only comfort they had available to them...

So they rocked, and tried to think about what they did. Think about how if they could just be good for once...

They had a lot of time to think, tho. As apparently their mother thought it would take four—well oh, four and a half days for them to learn their lesson.

And no, they weren't given any snacks, just a bottle of water the second day. Not even a big one, no, it was the size of an apple at best.

(And yeah, this is canon to their backstory!)

[kores-pomegranate]

I’ve been thinking for a while that I’d like to write down what it feels like when I’m at my worst. I think the human brain, for all of its wonder, does a shit job of hanging onto things, especially things that are painful. I’ve found that I can never quite recall what my body feels like or what thoughts race through my head when I feel very low.

I’m not at my lowest at the moment, but it was recent enough that I can remember pretty well. Last week, my doctor and I came to the agreement that I probably have cyclothymia. Even as a mental health professional, I didn’t know much about it outside of people calling it “Bipolar Lite ™️.” My doctor asked me if I’d ever had consistent relief from my anxiety. The answer to that is “fuck no.” If I feel consistently neutral, that’s about as good as it gets. I never feel consistently *good.* There are moments, here and there. Flashes, sometimes even a week or two at a time where I feel pretty good.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had COVID or chronic bronchitis, but if you have you probably know what it feels like not to be able to take a truly deep breath without sputtering or getting light-headed. That’s how those “pretty good” stretches feel for me. I can’t breathe all the way, I can’t settle. Always, always, a l w a y s there is background static flavored with fear. Justified fear, even. A body tensed waiting for the gun to go off to begin the sprint; all potential energy waiting for my next meltdown or crisis. And the fear is justified because one of the only certainties I can rely on when it comes to my brain is that it will freak the fuck out at some point. It doesn’t matter if everything is fine, it doesn’t matter if I’ve been doing well or taking my medications and going to therapy. I can always count on a meltdown that burns through that potential energy so fast that it brings my functioning to a screeching halt.

Anyway, back to my doctor. I told him, with less flowery language, that I’ve felt that way my whole life with little relief. To my surprise, he looked…relieved? Excited? He told me that he’d been wondering about cyclothymia for me ever since I told him I wasn't sure if one (of my four) anxiety meds was working.

Because, the thing is, it should have been working.

If what I have been experiencing was traditional anxiety, the cocktail of medications I was on should have knocked it out. And I definitely should not have had breakthrough panic attacks, self harm relapses, or roller coasters of SI.

My doc took my pulse which was sitting at around 150. He looked alarmed and took it three more times. He confirmed that I'd taken all of my meds. And then, he looked determined. He told me he thought I'd benefit from a mood stabilizer that was specifically developed for cyclothymia, to help treat hypomania.

Oh, hypomania. The "less severe" form of manic episodes. It's true, in some regards, I suppose. I don't experience week-long hells where I feel euphoric and invincible and out of control. I don't spend thousands of dollars I don't have on things I don't need. I don't make reckless or dangerous decisions with sex or drugs or food and I don't get psychosis. I'm thankful I don't have to endure those things.

But I don't get the supposed "good stuff" that is supposed to accompany hypomania. I don't get a sudden burst of energy and productivity that compels me to delightedly clean my house or do meal prep. I don't have days where I wake up in a sudden and miraculous good mood that lasts for a few days.

No, I don't get any of that. I get days and moments where my body feels like it is ripped from my control with absolutely no warning. I get, in a matter of seconds, a heart rate that jumps from 65 to 180. A rush of adrenaline that makes my body shake. The sudden and crushing belief that *nothing is okay and I will never be okay." The near incontrollable urge to just r u n a w a y. The urge to self harm. Sometimes actual self harm because feeling anything else would be better than this. Sometimes the urge to just…be gone. Because if this is my life I don't want it anymore.

That is what hypomania is like for me. Feeling as though someone broke into my car and is driving it wherever they want, even though I'm in the backseat losing my shit and fighting to regain control. It's not a fight I ever win. Instead, it's as though the thief gets bored and ditches me and my car in whatever state they put us in.

"See you soon," it always says.

Fear has been the soundtrack of my life for as long as I can remember. Today marks one week of taking mood stabilizers and 0 days since my last hypomanic episode.

I'm happy to still be here. It's nice to feel hopeful, even if I'm really fucking suspicious about it.

And to that car thief I say, "fuck you."

[heythereimb]

When Tomorrow Comes

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41340609/chapters/103662213 Summary: Tommy Innit Craft is just another kid. He likes video games, messing with his brothers, and hanging out with his best friend Tubbo. He loves his adopted dad Phil, and the life he has. Then it all comes crashing down. Suddenly his world is turned upside down with three words.. "You have cancer." // SBI Family AU where Tommy gets cancer. His family is there to support him // I project on block men

Chapter 1: Misstep

The first time it happened was during a family beach day. They were having a picnic. It was much too cold in the middle of March to get in the water but the sun was out and they intended to make the most of it. Techno and Phil sat on the blanket, a basket full of leftovers between them. Tommy and Wilbur were skipping rocks over the water. Tommy took a handful of water and splashed it at his older brother.

"Don't start something you can't finish." Wilbur taunted, splashing water back at him.

It turned into an all out water fight. Tommy took off running down the beach.

"I'm going to get you, you little gremlin child!" Wilbur shouted after him.

He laughed and ran harder.

A sharp pain shot its way from his right knee up to his hip before his leg gave out beneath him. Face down in the sand, it didn't take long for Wilbur to catch him.

"Are you alright Toms?" He asked breathlessly.

Tommy rolled over, blinking hard at the sun.

"Yea I'm fine. Just tripped is all." He replied, not thinking much of it.

Wilbur held out a hand and pulled the younger boy to his feet. They walked back over to the rest of their family. Tommy shook sand out of his hair and all over everyone else.

"Hey watch where you brush off mate!" Phil exclaimed. He quickly went to shield their food with his body. It was too late and they were all left with the crunch of sand in their meals.

Wilbur oddly didn't seem to mind. When asked about it he replied, "I like sand." That response earned him looks mixed with confusion, amusement, and horror.

-----

The next time it happened Tommy was at school. He was racing Tubbo to lunch. Just a few steps away from victory the same sharp pain caused his leg to give out. He hit the tile hard.

"Fuck Tommy are you alright big man?" Tubbo's worried voice called to him.

"I'm fine Tubs." He sat up grimacing at the soreness in his hands. "Even falling down I still managed to beat you here. Looks like you're buying today."

"Aw man! Why do we make this bet every week when you always end up winning anyways?"

"Just the way of the world Tubs. I was simply made superior to all other men." Tommy said standing. He wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulders and they walked into the lunch room together.

-----

The third time it happened was in the middle of the night. He awoke to the worst pain he'd ever felt. It was unbearable. He was dying. He had to be. Nothing else could cause so much pain.

Tommy laid in his bed. His body was slick with sweat. He screamed weakly between sobs. Someone needed to help him. He begged for someone to come.

"Dad! Wilbur! Tech!" He took in a shaky breath. "Somebody.." Another sob shook his body.

Wilbur burst through the door.

He let out a weak "Help me" at the sight of his older brother.

"Tommy what's wrong?" Wilbur ran forward. "Dad! Tommy needs help! Dad please!" He cried out desperately.

His leg felt like it was on fire. The muscles clenched hard and refused to relaxed.

Techno and Phil came running in.

"Oh my gods Tommy!" Phil rushed forward and cradled Tommy's head in his lap. "Wil go call 999."

Wilbur ducked out of the room.

Techno sat down. "You're okay Theseus, we're right here." He rubbed his hand up and down Tommy's leg trying to get it to relax.

Phil stroked his hair. His eyebrows drawn together in worry and his eyes filled with fear.

Wilbur came back in on the phone. Tommy whimpered his name. He gently grabbed his younger brother's hand.

Everything sounded muffled and distant. Tommy screwed his eyes shut, hoping to block out the pain.

There were sirens and footsteps running up the stairs. Cold hands grabbed at his leg, the feeling sent him into another series of sobs. A comforting hand ran through his hair.

"Shh shh shh. You're okay Toms. You're okay."

His eyes were gently pulled open one by one and a bright flashlight was shone into them. It left dots swimming in his vision.

Blurry figures moved quickly around the room. Then he was being moved to a board. They carried him down the stairs and onto a gurney.

Every jostling movement left him groaning and whimpering. It hurt. It all hurt so much.

Black webs ebbed at the edges of his vision.

"Rest bubba, you're safe now." A soft voice spoke.

Tommy let his eyes fall closed until he was released into the calm abyss of unconsciousness

-----

Tommy opened his eyes to a white room. The pain in his leg was reduced to a dull throb.

A warm hand squeeze his gently.

"Hey Toms. How are you feeling?" Phil spoke softly.

Tommy's tongue felt dry and heavy in his mouth. He turned his head to the side. His mind was wrapped in cotton making it hard to think. Tired eyes fell on a cup of water next to the bed. Weakly, he mumbled something akin to "water".

Phil followed his son's gaze. Carefully he held the cup to his lips. Tommy was grateful for the straw. The cold liquid soother his throat.

The cup was empty in minutes.

"Feeling any better?" Phil asked gently.

He nodded slowly.

"You gave us quite a scare there mate. I was so worried about you."

Tommy looked away in shame. He didn't like upsetting his dad.

"Hey hey it's okay. You're okay, that's what matters." Phil ran his free hand up and down his arm in a comforting gesture.

He was the only other person in the room.

When he spoke again Tommy's voice was barely a whisper, "Tech and Wil?"

His dad gave him a pitying smile. "They had to go home for awhile They'll be back later Toms."

Almost as if in cue, the door opened to reveal the older boys. "Tommy!" Wilbur practically shouted. He ran forward and gingerly wrapped his arms around his younger brother. He pulled back and placed a loving kiss to his forehead. "I'm so glad to see you awake."

Techno's reaction was much more subdued. He opted to hold Tommy's free hand and give it a comforting squeeze. "It's good to see you Theseus."

The love of his family around him brought a smile to his face. That smile was contagious and soon everyone was grinning.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in." Phil called.

A doctor walked in holding a clipboard. "Hello Thomas, I'm Dr.Halo. I'm here to talk with you all about a few things regarding his health."

They all sat down and waited for him to begin.

-----

Dr.Halo ordered a biopsy. There was a mass in his leg. They had to find out if it was benign or malignant.

Tommy regretted asking what that meant.

"It means it might be cancerous. We can't be sure until the labs from the biopsy return." He spoke gently.

The silence was heavy as it sank in.

"Cancer?" Wilbur asked no one, his voice shaking.

Techno pressed his lips in a tight line. Next to him Phil sat ridged, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Tommy sat frozen in place. The beep of the heart monitor faded away. A ringing filled his ears. He could see his doctor speaking but no sound reached him.

His family hugged and kissed him and spoke words he couldn't hear.

Nurses freed him from the tethers of wires and tubes. Then he was in another room surrounded by people with no memory of how he got there. A mask was placed over his face and he was pulled into the calm relief of unconsciousness.

[angelfairyqueenheart]

5th of october 2024, 22:33

i went for a walk today. there were drunken pirates. i drank tea beforehand. then i ate spicy pasta, then i made a hot chocolate with chai latte powder in it. i drank that on the walk. it was windy and dark. i feared the dark a little despite the time of day. i got home at 10 o'clock. i bought a nice bottle of wine on the way back. yellow tail. not the one i like the most though. the wind pierced gently through my fleece.

i like boys. they’re sweet. they make tea and offer it around. i don’t know if i give too much or not enough. am i meant to bleed or am i meant to hide? i guess i bleed either way. i looked at the advent calendars in the posh shop window again. it’s only october. i’m going to send one to my mother this year. she loves the paper ones. the issue is none of them are very biblical, and that’s what she likes. i’ll send her an advent candle too. she likes those. i’ll tell her to remember to burn it. i’ll tell her you have to live your life and use the candle. i tell myself i’m living my life and i think i’m right.

i’m writing and walking and drinking and fucking up and wearing silly clothes and dancing and listening to music but i wonder if i’m spending enough time stopping. i do not want to have a breakdown and yet there’s something so romantic and enticing about the idea. the boy who gives me tea and the boy who is still a virgin find me drunk, self harmed, on the floor of the bathroom. why does it seduce me? the horror and the embarrassment of the girl who bakes for them collapsing in their shared dirty bathroom with a shower that has terrible water pressure. i would hate the consequences. i used to fantasize about dirty things. i used to send videos of me touching myself to dirty men on the internet. i didn’t have any support then but i do now. i’m too scared to ask for their help and i don’t think they could give me anything anyway. they have no knowledge of what i’d need help with and frankly i don’t actually need their help. that’s the root of it. i can’t be bothered to put the effort in to be healthy. i know how to be healthy. i could be good at it. if i could only convince myself it’s as pretty as wine and pain. pain isn’t pretty. that’s my whole worldview. i’ll be kind and sweet to anyone i can because rudeness is ugly unless its warranted. being mean isn’t right. or good. i make myself lonely with it, i think.

i say i want to write a book but i think i already have, several times over. if only i could remember the plots. i hope all my stories say “yes everyone is worth loving”. i hope i’m a good writer. i hope i learn lots. i hope it’s the kind of stories my mother could read. or at least my sister. i hope it’s gentle. i hope it’s grunge. whatever that means. i hope i produce a long line of dreamers. i hope i’m a good mother. my best friend got engaged last night. ENGAGED. we’re 20. it’s 2024. i'm worried.

i’m worried she’s engaged because of her partner's legal issues. i hope i hope to fucking god that it’s right for her. i hope to all heaven and hell that she makes it and it doesn’t crash and burn either next month or in 10 years time. i hope she’s safe. she said they’ve been arguing. she’s been back with him in romania for 4? 5? days. and they’ve been arguing badly and now they’re engaged. she might never come back the UK. i hope i can go to the wedding. i need to i love her. i miss her. she’s incredible. ugh silly girl!!!!!!! what are we doing. wake up my love. why do you have to bind yourself to this silly man who can make you happy or sad with a wave of his finger and an unsaid word. this wine tastes a little of cinnamon. i like it. yellow tail merlot.

there’s a lot of darkness in my head right now. not necessarily heaviness. just darkness. death, wine, don’t sleep, body hurts, fuck me fuck me fuck me, vodka, not enough food (i’m fixing that one don’t worry, call me three meals a day martha), don’t smile in the conversation, don’t even listen, put those headphones on and don’t take a seat at the table. that isn’t me and it’s also exactly what i am. i am made of softness and scarred skin. scars can be lots of different textures. i am going to make and make and make until i have nothing left to say and then i will bleed out onto the paper and the fabric and soak it all with the words i have no way to express. watch me. dare me. do you want to see everything inside? it isn’t as harsh as i make it sound but it’s intense and it doesn’t stop being intense no matter what i do. i burst every waking second of every day and when i sleep i make morning martha wince. i miss my best friend. i miss my other best friend. i miss the innocent pain of school and i wish i could go back to the simplicity and i know that dearest future martha will dare to say the exact same thing about my right now. so i soak up the right now. i will soak and write and listen and love and make and drink while it is my right and freedom to do so.

my rib hurts. we played irish snap in a pub last night and i was far down the table and had to lean over to play and my right rib got bashed and bashed over and over again. my left arm rested on the hard back of the chair. i wasn’t myself in my words but i was in my actions. maybe i am always myself.

josie (my beloved sweetheart flatmate) is hosting a roast tomorrow. she’s cooking lamb and gammon and potatoes and carrots and tasha (another sweetheart hot girl) is probably bringing cauliflower cheese which i’m not a massive fan of but i’ll do anything she tells me (if only you could see her - she just… IS) so i will be eating that.

I AM MORE MYSELF THAN EVER. I AM SAFER THAN EVER. I AM HAPPIER THAN EVER. i trust myself. i will not let myself fall of the face of the earth. nothing drastic will set me apart from my path. nothing minor will either, unless i want a side quest.

someone teach me to write characters. someone teach me to write. i am someone and i will learn the fuck out of everything there is to learn.

THIS WINE IS DELICIOUS!!!! I AM WORTH THE EXTRA £2 IT COST ME!!!! I AM FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

maybe i don’t need to be fucked maybe i just need to write. no never mind.

my rib hurts.

[annwrites]

⸻ no sound but the wind. part three.

· pairing: adar x fem!reader · type: part of a mini-series · summary: you find pleasure in adar's bed. · tw: stockholm syndrome, dub-con (imo, given the circumstances) · word count: 1,238

You tell yourself you're doing it for you. That it's naught to do with him.

That he hasn't finally burrowed inside your head like a parasitic insect which refuses to vacate.

You do it...because he's held true to his promise thus far—he is not a man whose word is easily broken, you've come to learn, much to your sorrow—the pain has continued, because you've permitted it to by taking no measure to end it. To lessen it.

So, tonight, you take a different approach.

You tell yourself it is your idea.

You know it's his.

Though he may try to seem indifferent, it is that same 'indifference' which has finally persuaded you.

He is a master of manipulation—a prince of lies—among a number of other skills which you try to forget about. Such as murder, and destruction, and the things he does to you in the dark of night.

You'd thought not being able to see him as he takes what he pleases from you would make it easier.

Now you long for his face.

You hate that you do, and wish to pluck your eyes from your skull to lessen the temptation.

But so, too, would your hands need be removed, because you wish in your solitude to touch him. And to be touched...in more than just a carnal manner.

You cannot—will not—admit such a repulsive truth, however.

The words will never leave your tongue.

Even if they reside within your muddled mind, much to your bitterness.

You eat your dinner slowly, your stomach tied in knots all the while as you glance to him every few moments—his eyes, thankfully, not meeting yours once, as he, instead, focuses on his meal.

You fear yours may make a reappearance upon the table, or the floor, the more you toil within your mind with the idea at-hand, but you force it all back down, nevertheless.

You hate waste.

Even if that is all he seems to represent.

You hate him, too.

You keep telling yourself that, anyway. Even if you begin to feel less and less of it day-by-day, and more and more of something else in its stead.

"Undress, then lie back and spread your legs."

You blink up at him. "No."

His eyes flit to yours, his trousers pooling at his ankles as he raises a brow. "Save yourself some pain, girl."

Tears sting your eyes.

You do not know if what you mean to do is a betrayal of yourself, or a saving grace now.

Perhaps both.

Perhaps neither.

Perhaps it is something else entirely which you do not have the words for, so as to put a term to it.

"You said..."

Your chin wobbles. "You'd not prevent me from...finding...pleasure."

He stills, studying you.

"And you are ready for that?"

"I can't take anymore," you whisper, a tear slipping down your face.

He reaches up, and you flinch as he cups your cheek. "How would you have me, child?"

You glance behind you to the bed, then back to him.

He nods, then steps around you, pulling off his tunic—tossing it carelessly onto the floor—before lying back, taking himself in-hand and stroking while you study him.

You remove your nightgown—it makes it easier to think of his garment which you don as something of your own instead, even if you hate that it now warms you to think you are the one and only who is given such privileges: to share his bed, his food, his clothing, his tent...his everything. At one time such prospects disgusted you.

You wish they did still.

First, your body had betrayed you in his favor, and now...now the rest within to go along with it.

Is there any part of you which does not belong to him now?

You choose not to think on it.

An empty mind is better for you.

It will save you some pain.

You climb into his lap, and your hand overtakes his, holding his thick member steady as you ease yourself onto it with a quiet whimper, your eyes fluttering closed.

Once you've made yourself comfortable, you begin to gently rock your hips against his, his rough hands finding their way to your hips—holding you in his absolute grip—while he leans his head back against the front of the bed, simply watching you; observing.

Your soft lips slightly part and you begin to pant, your slick heat clenching tightly around him in wanton lust, and he groans deeply at the sensation that is you.

He leans up, wrapping a strong, steady arm around your waist, the other coming to cup your cheek, threading his fingers in your hair, his own lips a breadth's width from your own.

"Look at me," he whispers.

"Look at me, my child," he repeats.

Your eyes slowly open, and he hums in satisfaction at the sight of your hooded lids, your warm cheeks, the sex flush which spreads across your bare skin that his hands have roamed along day and night—memorizing, as your body has its own planes and valleys and caverns which he means to continually explore and discover.

There is always something new to be found which was not there before.

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, before resting his own against it.

He tugs your hips delicately forward, attempting to aid you in finding that which you seek, as you, instead—for the first time—use his body as he has wished for you too so many a-time.

A long ago seed he had planted has finally begun to bloom.

And how it is the most beautiful of all flora which he now beholds in his own bed. In his own arms. With his own eyes.

Six millennia he has walked these lands, and for the first time does he truly feel.

Does he see how rare true beauty actually is.

"That's it," he calls to you. "My lady. My lovely girl. You're nearly there."

Tears sting your eyes.

You hate his kind words.

You do not, instead, wish for cruel ones any longer, however.

You want more of that which he seems so willing to now give to you.

It should not be like this.

How you are glad that it finally is.

You nod slowly, keeping one arm thrown round his broad shoulders as the fingers of your opposite hand tangle in long black strands.

You come impossibly closer, your lips so close to his own that they brush against the soft skin of them.

Breaths release from each of you in short, anticipatory pants, each of your bodies moving in tandem—a long-rehearsed dance you've each had much training for, but only ever together.

And now the spectacle has arrived.

You crush your lips to his, falling over an edge which he pushes you from, into a dark, depthless cavern.

He comes along after you, planting something inside of you to keep you company there.

And then he joins you as well.

For he is the only one who knows where it is that he's hidden you away.

You each calm, trying your utmost to catch your breath—part of him leaking out of you; an all-too familiar feeling.

"Things will get easier for you now," he tells you.

He brushes a silent kiss over your lips.

"You're learning."

[mymomisdrunkagain]

My Mom is a Big Fat Drunk

April 4 - she drank all day again today. took two or three "naps", had the bedroom and the livingroom TVs on, at the same time, on the same channel, and she was probably passed out, anyway. Oh! She also finally noticed that I'm not talking to her. Its been 3 days.

This evening's highlight? I wasn't getting any delivery orders at all while at home, so I decided I'd have to go park in a lot closer to UCSD and sit and wait. Seems like such a stupid waste of time, to me, but that’s a different story. Anyway, I left around 9pm and got to the lot around 9:20. I think she was passed out when I left, but I didn't double-check. As I was sitting in the parking lot, I started to get hungry and decided to grab something from Vons. I was also reminded of how shitting she's making this whole situation when I thought about grabbing more than just a microwave meal; anything I buy, she's just gonna eat and then I'm back at Vons--- err. See previous entry…

I guess at some point, she texted me to pick up some aspirin for her. Didn't read it. Don't care. She's perfectly able to order some whatever-the-fuck-she-wants from CVS and have it delivered by … wouldn't ya know it? … DoorDash! Plus, I was still on-the-clock, technically. So, no-go, lady.

I see right thru her manipulations, now that I've stepped back my emotional investment in her, and its all just pretty ugly. For example, she could order stuff and have it delivered, which she knows, which means her goal was to make me do something for her, thus reinforcing her psychological control over me. Nope. Not happening. Not anymore. … and then there's the nature of her order: aspirin. That was an immediate red flag. She wants me to know she's in "so much pain;" she can't even move a muscle to get some relief and save herself from all the terribleness! Nope. Not falling for it. No sympathy from me.

If you haven't see our dynamic in person, or know our stupid story in greater detail, I probably come off as coldhearted and callous. Maybe even evil. So, you'll have to just trust me when I say this seemingly mean/evil side of me is not what it looks like; this is really a positive breakthrough for me. I've been under her control and manipulation my entire life and this clarity and insight into her manipulations and schemes is a pretty cool piece of armor to help defend myself against her, and, hopefully, another solid step towards breaking free of her control, entirely!

The real clincher is that auntie got home from work before I did, and even tho I totally already knew the answer, I had to ask her anyway: did mother ask auntie to get her aspirin, too?-- since she was also out of the house, etc… and, No. of course she didn't. the discussion got a little heated and auntie finally broke down and asked if _she_ could go get mother's aspirin for her, even tho she was tired af and just home from work, too. Can you guess the answer? No. Of course she didn't want auntie to go get the much-needed pain reliever for her. She literally had a perfectly viable, albeit total dick move, solution to her problem right there and did. Not. Take. It. Hmm…. So, that means she specifically asked me and only me, and specifically asked for a pain reliever. Because of all the pain. Huh. Imagine that.

Couldn't be bothered to ask auntie. Couldn't be bothered to order CVS thru Door Dash. Couldn't even be bothered to try to go out and get it herself. I was the only person in the whole world who could save her from all the pain. Huh. Weird.

PS: oh yeah! Another big reason for my tough-love approach with her right now: she just sits around all day long, eating everything, drinking vodka, and barely even moves. Now, I'm not a doctor, but I do know a little bit about how the human body works, and I know from personal experience at various times throughout my life, that if I remain in one position for any extended length of time, my body, my muscles, get stiff as fuck. In fact, it can often be painful for those first couple of seconds when I start stretching and moving again after staying stuck for so long.

Her bad habits (subconscious or otherwise) are absolutely compounding, if not manifesting entirely, whatever injuries she may have. I'd be much more willing to do things like pick up aspirin for her on my way home from work if I saw that doing so would even do anything positive for her, and that she wasn’t the cause of all her pain to begin with!

[jbt7493]

I am playing df for the first time in a while (you know how hyperfixations are and all that) and this fortress has some antpeople in the caverns. and I have dfhack. now initially i just thought of doing this because i saw they had three shields equipped and i thought of the thing where spiderpeople adventurers could have 7 shields and be super defended. theres also some olmpeople and some reptilepeople but like. theyre just kinda regular guys.

but anyway like, i kinda wanna use the make-own command in dfhack to make the antpeople part of my government and my fort.

my concerns are that the antpeople apparently have a lifespan of only 5-8 years and from what i can tell of the wiki the weight of the different sexes is 10,000 on worker, 1,000 on soldier, 5 on drone, 1 on queen. and uh, I do not have a 10,000+ population cap on my fort... so I don't think I can successfully maintain their population for any length of time, which would be sad i think. so i think i am not gonna do it. just kinda sad that it is not very feasible.

more consideration about animalpeople citizens under cut :p

the appeal of animal people (to me) comes in 3 main reasons. more than 2 arms, flight (im not sure how well this actually works for citizens in fortress mode tbh, so maybe i should ignore this...), and being biglarge. theres also the secondary values you could care about of like, being amphibious for some extra convenience i guess? or being an egg layer because uh. well you can eat them.

so (in no particular order), the animal people im most interested in having as residents are like. brown recluse spider people(6!!! arms, immune to pain and stun!, uh. they can collect webs i guess), elephant men (theyre fuckin huge dude), saltwater crocodile people (puny compared to elephant people but still 7x the size of a dwarf, amphibious, uh they lay 20-70 eggs so your dwarves literally dont need to grow any food or keep any farm animals they can feed themselves and have a surplus lmao), and [any flying insect] people (flight, 4 arms).

as mentioned, idk how useful flight is. you're mostly indoors anyway and even if you need to go up and down fast stairs... exist. it could theoretically help get your guys out of danger from nonflyers if you intentionally designed your fort around that, though, but i think the wiki said that for flying to a given tile to work there needs to be a land path to that tile as well? not sure about that

more arms - straightforwardly valuable for combat, the person that did a huge test of how shields work didnt do a test for multiple armed people with multiple shields, but based on the stories people have told about playing as spider people with 7 shields, im preeetty sure it works. i dont think its good for anything else in fortress mode? but having stronger soldiers is still very good.

being biglarge- useful in multiple ways. combat is a breeze and speed will barely be reduced when carrying heavy objects, so theyll be more productive in certain tasks. i do wonder though, uh, can you make the right clothes for them? the small animal people are all still 35,000cm3 because its an average of the base creature and human, and thats kobold size, which you can make clothes for. but can you make elephantperson sized clothes and armor? if you can, no problem? (i would be surprised if the game actually made you use more materials to make the same items in a larger size, but i might be wrong)

egglaying- look, with like 30ish turkeys i was not only able to entirely feed my fort but also over the course of 5 years build up a surplus of nearly 20,000 units of food, and that surplus isnt counting how many lavish meals i used as trade goods (enough to easily afford everything i wanted from every trade caravan, the only "limit" on my spending being that when meals are put in a barrel you cant fetch them individually and a barrel full of dozens of lavish meals is only worth like twice as much). Egg laying people removes the need for a bunch of extra animals in your fort. Instead of needing to regularly let the babies hatch and then butchering the older ones, adding annoying overhead and lag from too many entities, the people will just... live a normal 60-80 year lifespan, and in fact if you have a normal fort population there will be more egg laying citizens than you'd have animals in a normal egg industry. My only question is like. The wiki says "females will lay (sterile) eggs if given a nest box to claim". How do you get actual reproduction of new baby citizens??

amphibious - even less useful than flying. very few of even the scariest monsters can fly, but literally all of the megabeasts are immune to drowning anyway. mildly useful for exploring the caverns maybe? but that is very mild.

also, immunity to pain and stun for the spider people is neat. bark scorpion person has that too, and having 4 arms is still good, but when brown recluse spider people exist and have two more arms why not opt for them? also theres jumping spider people but brown recluse spider people are identical save for being able to freely move through webs (a minor thing, but convenient if you have a silk industry, which is certainly a good thing to have), and the venomous bite (idk why this would really matter lol).