#let’s see how long it takes me to forget again. and get gradually worse and worse

[totopopopo]

every few years i remember i’m aromantic with a flavoring of dyke and not the other way around and i have a rly good time living my life and then i inexplicably forget again for serval years. this has been happening since i was a preteen. not a phase or something i guess ,

[onelittlespiral]

Hey, it's been pretty hard to motivate myself to write lately with my new job, so I want to reward someone who's doing a great job getting his work done lately. I want to give idesofrevolution a nice musky dudebro transformation he'll really love, and hopefully the mystery transformation gives me some more free time to be horny and creative.

Subject: Order #100690

Dear Fred,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100690 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Bro(Musk)_From_Friend(Online; Blog)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Please note that due to the subject’s history with transformations, delivery methods may be delayed or gradual. Expect fulfillment in 2-3 weeks.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You couldn’t wait to hear back from The Spiral, checking your inbox every couple of hours for any updates on delivery. Training was slow and boring at the new office, so there wasn’t much to do besides sit through the standard HR videos on one monitor and scroll social media on the other. That was when you received an email notification. You opened it up, and excitement turns to disappointment. Just another boring diversity video. You pop it up on the side, plug in your headphones, and wait for the stock music and graphics to start. Except, this one is different. You are watching from a first person perspective as a man walks into a room and lies down on a couch. The camera captures his enormous pecs, hiding the rest of his torso, as they flex a little. You glance around the office, nervous about who may be watching. Something must be wrong, this can’t be your afternoon assignment. But your eyes are drawn back to the screen when the door opens again and another beautiful man graces the screen. Your eyes fix on his, as he leans into the camera for a kiss. You can almost feel his heat through the screen, and you’re soon relaxed in your chair, watching the show.

As he slowly grinds against you, you subconsciously begin to rub at your own crotch, simulating his movements. You begin to feel a horny fog fill your mind as you begin to buy into the fantasy, beginning to ignore your surroundings and forget about your coworkers. It isn’t long before your dick is fully out, imaging how good it feels to have his soft hands rubbing your hardening member. You don’t even notice how much you are beginning to leak pre-cum, synchronized with when he places his delicate lips on your cock and takes the whole member in one motion. You lean back in your chair and let the waves of pleasure relax your muscles. You begin to feel so heavy, as your arms grow tired of stroking. You place them behind your head, letting this experience overtake you as you continue to have your cock expertly worked by a pro. You begin to match his tempo, thrusting in time. Your grunts are getting deeper as you begin to get close. Your partner feels it coming, and steadies his tempo. He doesn’t want you to come too soon. But the fog in your brain is only intensify, leaving you more aroused by the moment. You aren’t able to hold it in much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you, and you better not miss a drop,” you say, and his eyes show understanding. You reach out and tug at his hair, taking control of the tempo as his eyes begin to water. But he doesn’t have to worry for too long. You are soon dumping your load in his stomach, and he cums hands free in turn, as the director gets the money shot.

“CUT! That’s a wrap.”

Your partner gets up and wipes himself down. You just grab your shorts and sit back down on the couch.

It’s going to be a long day of shooting, but you love it. At least here you get to be horny and own it. And, more importantly, get paid. Could be worse. You could be stuck at some stuffy office job. Just then your phone buzzes with a notification. One of your friends just posted, let’s see… oh, @idesofrevolution. Good thing too, you had been worried about Frost. Annnnd a second notification from your management company, The Spiral. They were sending you some confirmation info… something about the Doctor himself coincidentally enough. Seemed to be some details about a movie scene or something meant for him, so probably some mix up. Let’s see what it says…

Dr. Frost was has some background knowledge on our methods from years of research into his own transformation methods. Consequently we took a more gradual approach. Slowly, we began introducing neural waves throughout his day to prime him. In his home, in his car, on his blog, we implemented subtle messages about growth. About muscle. About musk. After all, who needs to waste so much time showering every day? When his deodorant sticks keep going missing, what was the point in buying more? After all, he no longer had much time to go to the store, as he logged off from work and drove straight to the gym every day. At first he wondered why he was suddenly so worried about his health. But as we continued to amplify our waves, he soon stopped worrying. It was natural to want to be strong. It was natural to reek. It was natural to feel good, bro. I’m in control.

As his musk intensifies, he is only conditioning himself to become more and more self indulgent. We began alternating frequencies, sending his testosterone through the roof, driving a new crop of hair growth and keeping his balls plenty full. Between his pit stench and constant gym pump, he is keeping himself at a near constant leak of pre-cum, and quickly soiling any attempt at covering himself up. Not that he cares. He hasn’t showered in a few weeks, only allowing himself tongue baths from whatever gym bro he catches staring and manages to get into his truck for a make out sesh. His memories are evaporated, nothing more than a sweat stain on his favorite cap. His brain is so high on his own supply, our neural waves had to be amplified to get through his brain fog. Hell, he can hardly form a proper sentence, bro. We have taken the liberty of updating his blog to more accurately reflect his new interests. His stories have been replaced with his thirst traps and progress photos. We are satisfied with his progress and have left him to continue his journey of his own, new and improved, free will.

You should really reach out to him sometime. See if he wants to take his modeling career in a new, more exciting direction. Could be fun to suck that musky cock…

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear Fred,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[ackermonie]

=requested, pt.2 of the lonely nights

another sleepless dawn breaks upon the horizon. you lay there, and even amongst the sweat and blood and dirt, your eyes watch the sky turn purple unblinkingly.

you’re done with your mission, the veil is down. you can go home now.

but isnt it peaceful?

the autumn breeze is gentle on your cheeks. you can still see the stars, and the moon, just like you, doesn’t seem to want to go home just yet. so you just lay there, basking in each other’s presence as you finally feel something akin to that you once felt in your youth.

its been years. seven? eight? all you know that its been long enough to forget his voice. his features started to fade away a little too, but when it gets so bad that you start to panic, you get out the old stash of grainy old pictures to reminisce on how his hair used to feel between your fingers, but you’ve long forgotten that too.

has he changed? did he cut his hair short or is he letting it fall to his back?

has the skin beside his eyes begin to wrinkle?

you dont cry about it anymore. you’ve already done your fair share of that. now all that remains is an empty, hollow place in your chest where he once occupied.

the purple of the sky turns into lilac, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. you can’t get up. you’re not severely injured or anything, a scratch here and a gash there, but the very will to get yourself on your feet remains lost, and you don’t even care. they’ll probably send someone to check the scene out soon, they can take you home then.

the weather is nice, its peacefully quiet, and you haven’t slept in over 48 hours. what can a little nap do? your eyes flutter closed.

“you got bold.”

in a split second, your dagger was aimed up to protect your face. your vision is a bit blurry when u snap your eyes open to see a sea of faded features exactly above you. only the dagger in your hand separates your faces.

you blink furiously, trying to get the impaired vision to set straight. the person above you is squatting behind your head, its a man for sure. his shoulders are so broad he almost blocks your whole vision, casting a shadow over you. he tilts his head as your eyes begun to scan his face, vision returning gradually.

your heart sinks.

the skin beside his eyes did start to wrinkle.

“suguru.” it comes out in a breath.

“what are you doing out here?”

“suguru?” your fingers loosen on the dagger for only a couple of seconds, your body just never used to having its defenses up in his presence, but this isn't the same person anymore. no longer the geto suguru you knew and loved. you need to remember this.

“i can’t think of a worse place to nap in, to be frank.”

your knuckles turn white around your dagger again.

“how did you find me?”

“you made quite a scene.”

he let his hair grow longer. way longer than you thought. some of it falls on his shoulder, and he’s keeping it up from his face in a bun like he used to. they say hair keeps memories. you sigh in relief.

despite everything, your hands are aching to reach for him. to cradle his face and brush through the silky strands, but you only keep a firm grasp on the sharp instrument between you two.

the sky is getting brighter. you don’t want the moon to leave you alone with him. the sun will only make him more real.

“are you just going to lay there?” he tilts his head again, gesturing at you. “don’t you have somewhere to report back to?”

“why are you here?”

“you see, i happen to sorta eat curses, and you just exorcized my dinner.”

“oh,” it comes out uncontrollably.

“impressive show to watch, to be honest.” you feel his hand on yours, it makes you flinch. he pushes your armed hand away from your faces with the littlest of forces, but your hand now rests beside your head, the dagger tumbled out of your grasp. “you’ve gotten stronger.”

“i was never weak.” it was intended to be a harsh snarl, but you feel choked. your voice barely held any venom in it.

geto smiles a bit. “i never thought you were.”

no, no. no.

you push him away with a hand to his chest that you wish lingered a bit more than it did, pulling yourself up in a sitting position with your back to him. it’s an open meadow, theres no where you can run and hide. you need to get out of here. his very scent is intoxicating you, pulling tears up from somewhere you thought you buried deep.

“leave me alone.” you throw over your shoulder. you catch a glimpse of him, he’s still squatting down, watching you intently. “i dont want you here.”

he stays quiet, you can only hear the sound of your own harsh breaths. your eyes blur, this time with tears, but you don’t think you can hold out for long.

what is he thinking, showing up like that? after all this time? did he think you’ll run into his arms like you once did? does he take pleasure from watching you like that, body shaken up with choked back tears, unable even to look him in the eye?

that’s it. you push yourself up despite the gash on the side of your thigh that pulls out a yelp out of you.

“i’m leaving, then.” you begin to limp away. the first tear betrays you.

suddenly, the ground in front of you is split by a line of shadows from which a curse materialized in front of you. a dragon, it’s tail wiggling with its teeth pulled back in a snarl. a certain curse that you were always practically fond of.

you stumble back. the eyes widened in shock fell back to familiarity, a gaze that still holds the pain of loss. somehow you still know that none of this is the way it used to be, no matter how familiar.

the curse draws closer. it’s not threatening, just forcing you back until you hit a solid figure behind you. you turn back abruptly, hands immediately in a position to push geto away, but he was always quicker than you were.

his hands were there to welcome your wrists instead, grip unyielding despite your trials to break away. he doesn’t look tense when you look up at him. doesn’t look threatened, nor angry, just…

sad. he looks sad.

“come on, baby,” his voice was so low, you’d thought it was a part of your imagination if you didn’t see his lips move. “don’t do this to me.”

don’t do this to me??? you want to scream at him. want to bang on his chest until it cracks open, but all you seem to be able to do is look up at him as tears flow freely down your face, and he looks so fucking sad.

he lets go of one wrist, hesitant for a second to see what your reaction will be. his hand traces up to your face, big fingers cradling your face with the world’s gentleness in them. the other hand softens around your wrist, slipping up until his thumb rests in the palm of your hand, then geto heaves out a sigh.

his eyes scan your face for a few seconds.

“you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.”

you almost hear the sound of your heart shattering. your lips fall apart, you too scanning his face, except you’re doing it to find any sign of bluffing, anything that can mend whatever remains of your shattered heart, but all you find is sincerity.

“what are you doing?” disbelief is evident on your features.

his forehead falls to yours, and your fist unclenches on his chest. you can feel the heartbeat under his bones.

“i dont know,” he breathes out, he still smells the same. your noses touch. “i don’t know, but let us just have this.”

“sugu…” you sob. your hand traces up to rest on the side of his neck, almost scared to touch his hair.

“y/n…” his chest heaves, your lips brush as he whispers your name. “please.”

you barely manage a little nod, a broken sob escaping past your lips only to be swallowed by a pair of desperate ones that knock the very oxygen out of you.

his lips on yours are so familiar. you’ve done this hundreds of times, yet never enough. your hands, finally, slip through the silky strands, and you almost cry out because you remember it all all over again. the sleepless nights and the calls until dawn breaks, the silly braids you used to decorate his hair with, it all slams into you like a high-speed train.

but a strong grasp is holding you firmly, preventing your knees from giving out. he kisses you like a starved man, like he misses the very air you breath, like it’s been tearing him up inside not having you in his arms like this.

you let yourself believe that this is all true. that he’s been spending even more sleepless nights than you are. that no call of his name sounds as soothing as the way your tone sounds.

but its not gonna last long. you two begin to treat those few minutes like they are your last on earth. his hand slips under your uniform to touch as much skin as possible, and you cradle his face, planting the feeling of his hair between your fingers deep in your memories.

i love yous and im sorrys are muttered, but you’re not sure who says them. you pull back to look at him and he’s never looked this vulnerable. you hold yourself back from asking why and how could you, but you know you wont like the answer. geto suguru never regrets the choice he makes.

as much as his love for you and for his friends remains, his mind has been set on this path long ago.

“next lifetime,” you breathe shakily, holding his face to yours intimately. “let’s stay away from jujutsu altogether, hm?” you try to smile, swiping a thumb under his eye. “we’ll just run, okay? we’ll run and stay together.”

geto smiles, wiping your tear-stained cheek with a calloused thumb, but he says nothing.

"no, you have to promise me." your grip tightens on the material of his clothes, panic surging through your eyes. "you'll find me."

"I'll find you. I promise."

[theagstd]

One Night Stand ; 24

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter twenty four ; wc | 2.8 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

the morning light falls to your face, forcing you to turn left and right due to the level of brightness. your eyes squint before they gradually open, allowing you to blink multiple times before you fully let them open wide. you take a deep breath, the room smells of a certain someone, it smells sweet, manly,

a perfume that you want to wake up to every morning and go to bed with every night. It's your hand reaches out to the sides of the bed, but it's empty. leaving a huge pout on your lips, you carefully sit upright as your palm holds your belly that's naked with your tee high above it.

You glance around the bedroom and see that it's spotless. your clothes are folded and set on the vanity chair, and the makeup tools that are laid around the boudoir table are placed neatly in the organizer. Jungkook had left after clearing up the place so you wouldn't have to do it yourself. you smiled at his thoughtfulness and recalled how he softly uttered words for you to help you doze off, and it worked,

you fell asleep faster than you usually would. if you're asked to be completely honest, you would say his body heat was the sole reason you were at ease. if it hadn't been for his warmth and the comfort his arms gave you, then this night wouldn't have been any less than the past three nights, which were nothing worse than torture. your phone was placed on the nightstand beside your bed, you checked your messages and the top of it was from 'Jungkook'.

[ From Jungkook ] good morning, darling I'm sorry I had to leave early because it's a Monday you might wake up late, but I still made some scrambled eggs with cheese didn't find anything else in your fridge guess it's time to restock. have it and I left your vitamins there, so don't forget to drink them up I'll come by the evening to drop you lunch

xoxo

the blush on your face had tinted your cheeks red as you read the texts repeatedly. he's getting comfortable, getting close, and that's leaving imprints on you. the good type makes you want more from him.

you wonder if you would feel this way if he hadn't put you to sleep yesterday. You both wouldn't have been this close then. like sleeping on the bed and shit.

[ y/n ]

that's fine. Thanks for staying the night. and thanks for the food too, I will have it all. come by anytime, I'll be waiting.

although it's past 11 AM, you're in no mood to move your body, so you decide to just lay down again and continue to have a nap until you feel energized enough. you're hungry but more lethargic, so you force yourself to wait.

-

Jungkook whispers to you. "I'll always be there when you need me, baby, I'll always be there when you want me. " he felt you stiffen inside his arms after he murmured the words to you,

which made him rethink his words even made him regret saying something he usually doesn't, afraid that he may have scared you with his unexpected affection or have revealed too much of his inner self.

before he could be vocal with his apology you grew closer to him, if that was physically possible because the two of you were already glued to each other. your face searched deeper into his neck and sighed in relief at the warmth and comfort that the man radiated from his body, you couldn't think of any other times you felt this feeling. not even your ex had made you sense this. you're not in love with this man but yet, what he gives out feels like it's made for you,

this toastiness he spreads and the love he gives out just makes it so perfect for you. you felt how his arms loosened after the long silence since his words, and you didn't like it. you wanted him to hold you tighter just the way he did a few minutes ago. "I like that."

the muffled words come out as a whisper, he could feel the movement of your lips when you spoke since your face was secured to his neck. his body soon washed off the rest of the growing tension and tightened his clasp around you, placing his chin on top of your head and then giving you a light kiss there. "I hope I'm not been a creep."

you slightly chuckle at his words. "if you would've acted like one, you wouldn't be here on the same bed as me." Jungkook hums and continues to brush your hair, taking the few strands out of your face and placing them behind your ear.

you never imagined the man to be quite a cuddler but neither did he, he didn't know he had this in him, Jungkook is taken back too. "sleep." he mutters and you nod slowly, your hands rubbing your belly while he rubs his hands on your back, to help you feel comfortable. "night Jeon." your words soft and faint yet it caught his attention, allowing him to gently bite down on his lower lip. "good night y/n."

-

Jungkook zones out for a while, it's Monday, the first day of the week so work is bound to be hectic but he didn't think it would be this difficult. he'd spent his weekend with you so work was totally out of his mind, but Jeon Jungkook keeps his professional and personal lives on two different paths, they never cross.

they never have and he never wants them to either but somehow today he can't stop thinking about you and he blames himself for spending the whole weekend with you. he won't deny the fact that he had the best time, being with you has become easy and stress-free to him that the first working day of the week has already drained him out and it's just noon.

he'd planned to wrap up work early so he could have dinner with you but since he had spent zero hours working on Sunday, it's piled up. all the emails and documents that he usually saves to read on Sundays were untouched and closed so he's under stress. and all he can think of is you. "Mr. Jeon?"

suppressed words come along with a few knocks at his door to which he responds with a 'come in.' "Mr. Jeon, the meeting with the Sohns was confirmed over the weekend, I hope you're aware of it." Jungkook frowns at his secretary's words as he opens email and sees one of them unread. "shit-"

he cusses under his breath. "yes, I'm aware. could you brief me on the subject again?" "uh-?" the man who stands in front of his boss looks at him confused. He isn't sure if he heard him right. brief Mr. Jeon? the man who knows everything before a week. "Sure."

Jungkook somehow feels embarrassed, there was never an opportunity for him to need a recap or overview since he's fully aware of every subject relating to his business meetings, trips and even the management of the HR. "meeting with the Sohns is today at 7 pm in Octagon."

yeah shit. now he remembers, it's at the high profile exclusive nightclubs. it slipped out of his mind. "Thanks, Hwangwon. you may leave." Jungkook sighs and rotates his chair to look at the glass window. he won't be able to have dinner with you tonight. heck, he even wanted to ask you if you'd like to come back and stay at his place.

he isn't sure if he has the time in the next few days. thinking about this, Jungkook can feel his stress levels increase. he grabs his coat, and leaves his office so he can take away the lunch where he ordered and at least spend about 15 minutes with you before heading back to work and then the meeting.

Q-

the doorbell rings, and Jungkook switches his weight from one foot to the other. You're taking time to open the door. when he's about to press the bell again, the door opens with a cheery you. you're wearing a lovely smile on your face, and your cheeks look slightly red like you've just walked out of a sauna. you're also in one of your cute animated long shirts and shorts, but your bump pops out. "Hey!"

he greets you after heaving a sigh like all his stress is long gone, it's quite surprising how things have changed. even though he got out of your bed at 6 AM and it's just about 7 hours since he last saw you sleeping like a beauty on the bed, he still somehow feels at peace when he sees you. "Aren't you gonna come in?"

you ask in a sweet voice, the man doesn't think you could ever speak like this before but look at you, looking like a little teen with a bump and talking to him with a toddler's voice. Jungkook quickly nods and walks inside. He knows he can't stay for too long. "Here's your lunch, I got you kimchi fried rice." "My lunch? did you have lunch?"

he shakes his head, showing a no at which you give him a frown. "Have lunch with me." "I would love to but work is piling up so I need to get back." "that's okay, you can have dinner with me." Jungkook wants to say 'Yes of course I will, I would love to share with you darling.' but he doesn't. "i have a meeting and it may be too late, I'll send you dinner or maybe you could order whatever you like."

there he sees the pout on your lips grow, it's only getting bigger and it's showing just how heavy your bottom lip is. "okay.." you mumble and take the lunch from his hand so you can leave it on the coffee table but he doesn't let go. instead, he places the bag on the table himself and grows closer to you. "aren't you acting like a little child today?" "no." "yeah, you are."

his hands intertwine with yours as you continue to look at the ground. "never thought y/n could be this pouty." "hey, I'm not!!" he chuckles and pulls you closer to him for a hug. So much like home, he thinks. his suit fits him so tight, that you can feel the curve of his arms and his abs too. "I'll be back after the meeting okay? I promise." "would you stay the night..?" You asked, unsure of his answer.

"of course, if that's what you like?" you nod and he nods too. "I'll see you then, have your lunch okay? and please don't stay up for me. it may get late." "okay." you murmur and he hums, looking lovingly into your eyes before he leaves your door.

-

it's almost 7 and Jungkook is tired, why does he work every day even on weekends so it doesn't get difficult to work on other days. one day off, and things get piled, especially for a person like him who needs to be involved in everything of the daily business work. on his way to the nightclub, he told himself he wouldn't have any alcohol, he couldn't afford to get drunk anytime.

As he enters the club, he can tell how different the atmosphere is in comparison to a normal cheap club. nonetheless, the women are just the same if not just with more expensive clothing and better trained performances. Jungkook walks inside to find the businessmen, and he does.

immediately getting into greetings and then working. "What would you like to have, Mr Jeon?" "A Coke would be fine." "coke? Mr. Jeon, there's a reason why we set this meeting at a club, let's be comfortable and informal, we don't judge."

the men at the table laugh out loud, and Jungkook tightens his closed lips and nods. "I'd still like a coke" "whiskey for the table."'the man tells the waitress to get whiskey for all the 8 men present around the table, including Jungkook. "That wasn't very necesssary." "it's fine Mr Jeon, don't mind it. now where were we, yes, the percentages...."

the discussion goes on, and so does the number of intakes. Jungkook was too engrossed in the meeting like everyone was, his slow and few sips increased to glasses and more glasses without his knowledge because the glasses kept filling and he was not aware of it, kept continuing his drinking because he did like it, he missed the taste of full whiskey.

he missed getting drunk anyway. Jungkook was also reminded of you, by every sip of the alcohol, it's like he was reminded of you because he's getting attached to you too, slowly. like whiskey, the more you drink it, the lesser the bitterness, the more the needy. you're much less bitter now, almost no bitterness at all.

the arguments have lessened and now you both just want to be around each other more. Jungkook smiles at the thought of you, you just come as visuals to his eyes and he can't help but blush and go all crazy. it's the effects of alcohol indeed.

"excuse me, I need to step out for a moment." He leaves to freshen up a little bit, he knows he's drunk because he can see you everywhere, in every woman's face. he knows he shouldn't have drunk too much. even though he's feeling all giddy by the fact that he can see you in everyone, it's also very dangerous and disgusting to him to see you in unknown strangers'

faces. he just wants to go home, back to you. sleep with you on his chest and place with your hair while hearing the sounds of your breathing.

"hey? JK? Is that you?" his tracks stopped when he'd been called out by a certain someone. it's been years since he was called by that name and there's only one person on this whole earth who calls him or used to call by JK.

Kim Haerin.

his eyebrows furrow as he looks at his shoes and then slowly turns back at the familiar voice and tone of the woman who called him out. there she stands behind him in the shortest dress, above her knees, black bodycon and sleeveless. her hair is flowing, silky and in curls thrown behind her shoulders as it shows off her neck and v-necked chest.

"Haerin?" her name leaves his lips in a whisper as if it shouldn't leave his mouth at all. like it's forbidden. her lips curl into a smile. her eyes are droopy and she reeks of champagne which he can smell even from a distance. "it's been so long since I heard my name sound like that." She mumbles and takes a few steps towards him, her heels clicking the floor as she walks closer. Jungkook hadn't seen her in over 6 years now, and he could easily say that she looks so much like a woman now, her body, her face, and her features.

She can say the same to him too. He's much more than just a man to her. he's so buff, and she never thought he could look like this. "been so long, huh?" "What are you doing here?" "What do you think I'm here for?" she asks him and smirks. "You look so different." she whispers as she stays just a few inches away from him, placing her hand on his arm to feel the curve and bulk of his muscle.

This closeness doesn't stay right to him. He doesn't like this, this touch feels unsafe. It's mot the way you touch him, but why is he reminded of everything they've done together? "I've missed you. so much. I'm sorry for everything I did. Will you forgive me?"

she asks in her soft voice, Jungkook looks around the room. He thinks he should just go into the washroom, leaving her here. "it's fine, leave it." he says, Jungkook just wants water. Fuck, he needs you right now. his breathing isn't stable after seeing her.

"I've missed you so much, JK." She calls him out again, but this time touching his neck with her fingernails, allowing him to feel goosebumps rising his hair. his eyes move around everywhere, looking for something.

"Jeon? look at me?" she murmurs, and he looks at her, her face too close to him. wrong! too wrong! She knows he's drunk, she's aware. fully aware, yet she's taking advantage of this man since she knows his weakness. "Feel me-" she presses her lips to his. closing the distance between the two of them.

next chapter ⇢

[oh-katsuki]

Golden Boy (Izuku x Reader)

Masterlist 

Pairing: Izuku x Reader

Summary: Izuku was a nice boy, except when it came to you. Yup, UA’s golden boy really knew how to treat a slut like you. 

Content Warnings: Dubcon, slight noncon, dacryphilia, size kink, face fucking, overstimulation, creampie, degradation, humiliation, spit kink, choking, finger choking, pet names, ooc izuku

Word Count: 5.6k 

A/N: I got SCARY h-word over this man and decided that I literally wanted him to hurt me and spit in my mouth. He’s too nice to not be a fucking freak, goodbye. 

Anyway, thank you to @eremiie , @mikaberries , and @veroyktv for beta-reading this!! I appreciate y’all !

Izuku tormented you all through high school. It was almost shameful to admit the way that his gentle teases melted into something far more sinister as the weeks bled into months and years. What started as subtle comments turned into  outright taunts and then the contactless threats no longer remained empty. 

No one believed you. And who would? 

Izuku was a model student and a good friend, someone with a kind disposition who wanted nothing more than to become the greatest hero. What reason could he possibly have to bully you? You’d never done anything to him. 

But he did. For three years he mercilessly taunted you and it only got worse your final year. 

Izuku would pinch at your thighs, sneering at you in the hallways when no one was looking. He’d snake his hand up your skirt and squeeze the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises that eventually littered the entire inside of your thigh. They looked incredibly vulgar and Izuku would torment you about it endlessly, despite knowing that he’s the one who left them. 

He’d crowd you against the lockers after most people had gone home, knowing you’d be there late after your tutoring sessions. 

“Tsk. Quite some marks you’ve got there.” He’d say, stepping up to you, his broad shoulders squared, a half smile creeping onto his face as his eyes studied the inside of your thighs. The marks littered the otherwise smooth skin, visible when looking at you from the front. 

“You get them from slutting yourself out?” Izuku would ask, stepping toward you again. “Y’look like a bit of a whore, don’t you?” 

He’d lean in close to your ear, venom seeping into each of his words as he cornered you. His hand crept up your skirt, eyes trained on yours which widened with fear as he pinched down, relishing in the yelp of pain that escaped you.

You wondered how someone like Izuku could make you feel so small and so insignificant.You couldn’t even bat his hand away as he made a fool of you, pinching at the inside of your leg with thick, calloused, and scarred fingers. It didn’t matter how tall or strong you were because it always seemed that Izuku was bigger, domineering in attitude and words. He really did know how to reduce you to a helpless thing. 

It seemed Izuku was growing more desperate by the day as graduation gradually crept closer. It was like he made less of an effort to hide it, blowing into your ear and whispering vile shit to you while in class, things that would make anyone squirm in their seat. He’d start bumping into you, singling you out, making an effort to get you noticed by his friends so he could have you as a little plaything whenever they hung out. 

And you let him. You let him make a toy out of you, tagging along with Iida, Uraraka, and Asui on Saturday outings, letting Izuku pinch and prod at you from across a restaurant table.

The truth was, Izuku Midoriya fucking terrified you. 

So you couldn’t say no to him. To everyone else you looked like nothing more or less than one of his many admirable friends. Promising quirk and a promising future, what a match for UA’s golden boy. 

You were at your wits end and by the time graduation rolled around. No one listened to you. Hell, people often brushed off Izuku’s very genuine threats as classic childhood teasing. “You’re such a good sport!” they’d say as Izuku patted your back, laughing an all too cheery “just kidding!”

How were you supposed to focus on graduation day, all dolled up in your cap and gown, unwilling to admit to yourself that maybe it was for him? Still, you found yourself automatically flinching whenever Izuku came around, eyes following him across the lawn as he ignored you in favor of photos. Izuku had a promising job offer waiting for him, and his many awards won during the ceremony earned him several congratulatory handshakes as well as pictures for the school’s newsletter. 

Still, he’d catch your eye when smiling for the camera, an all to familiar glint in them. His smile made you sick to your stomach, made it churn in the worst of ways. It was doing back flips as he stalked across the lawn towards you until his sturdy frame was against yours. He leaned down, lips brushing beside your ear to whisper one final taunt. 

“It’s a shame you’re not wearing that little skirt of yours,” Izuku breathed, eyes flitting over the cap and gown. “Would have liked to pinch those skank thighs of yours one last time. S’what you deserve.”  

And then he stood there, watching the way tears began to crowd your waterline, threatening to spill over as three years of tormentation came to what felt like an underwhelming head. Izuku tilted his head, watching the way water stained your made-up cheeks, before taking his thumb and wiping the tears from your eyes. 

“Don’t cry, doll.” He taunted, voice far too sweet for the words that fell from his lips. “I’m not near done with you yet.” 

Why was his tone so comforting? So confusing that you weren’t sure if it was dread or relief that filled your senses, ears suddenly feeling clogged with water. Your eyes darted from his to anyone on the lawn who could see you, who might be watching as Izuku pushed you to tears with only a few words, until you caught Bakugou’s gaze. 

Ah, Bakugou Katsuki, someone who’s done to Izuku what he does to you. It’s a bit of a fucked up little triangle because while Izuku was bullied by him and you are bullied by Izuku, you couldn’t help but hope that Bakugou would be the one taunting you, the one pinching your thighs. At least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe he’d help you, after all, he was probably the only person who’d believe you in the first place. 

So once Izuku had wiped your tears with a condescending thumb and left to go partake of other party activities, you pulled Katsuki aside by the shoulder, fingers digging into the meat of his bicep. 

“What in th- you?! The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked, eyebrows furrowed in the permanent scowl that he wore so frequently. 

“Sh, look please just, hear me out.” You spoke, voice hushed as your eyes shifted around. You had the feeling that if Izu saw you with him, you’d be in for it. “I just- I really need help.” 

Bakugou was about to scoff, was about to roll his eyes and walk away until he saw the redness under your eyes that the makeup couldn’t hide. The way you sniffled slightly as you asked and the way you looked to the floor. He’d never seen you like this, almost broken. It was something he’d seen often in Izuku, but something about seeing you like this made him ache. 

“What?” He responded, trying not to seem too invested. 

“It’s Midoriya.” Your voice grew quiet, almost in shame as you spoke the formal version of his name. 

“And?” Bakugou was impatient. He cared about you but not enough to sit here for five minutes while you stuttered. “Spit it out.” 

“He- he won’t leave me alone.” The words tumble from your lips so fast and before you know it, your hands are balled into fists on his chest, the material of his gown scrunched inside them in a plea. “He’s a nightmare, he pinches me and says the most awful shit to me. I- I mean, the inside of my legs and thighs are littered with bruises and n-no one believes me.” 

“Midoriya? As in, ‘shitty deku’ Midoriya?” Bakugou takes a step back in slight shock. 

“Yes!” You shout, far louder than you intended, pulling him closer slightly as you hush your tone in a whisper. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

He nudged you off of him, brushing off his gown. Bakugou would be lying if he said it didn’t make his blood boil. Sure, him and Midoriya had buried the hatchet a long time ago but he still wanted dirt on the guy, plus he thought it was a coward move for him to bully someone as pretty as you. Though after seeing the way your eyes get wide in fear, he can’t say that it wasn’t incredibly tempting. There was something enticing about how you looked when you begged, no doubt Izuku saw it too. 

“You’re too sensitive.” He scoffed, meeting you gaze and watching the way your expression fell. “What you do is graduate and forget about that shitty extra. There’s really nothing else to it.”

You reached for him again out of habit this time, like if he turned around now you’d really be thrown to the wolves. 

“N-no, Bakugou, please.” You plead again, tears once again gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I-I can’t. I just need help.” 

Oh, he gets it now. 

He sees what makes you so appealing, what makes it so easy to walk all over you. You looked pretty when you cried. So he leaned in, his scowl turning into a smirk before speaking again. 

“No.” Bakugou’s smirk turned into an outright grin, eyes crinkling at the corners before he stood back up. “I graduated. Shitty Deku is your problem, not mine. Deal with it yourself. Just stop talking to him or whatever.” 

And with a wave of his hand he was off, walking towards his group of friends. Well, there goes your life line, the one person who actually believed that Izuku was tormenting you wouldn’t even lend you a helping hand. You supposed it was too much to hope though, and he was right, you could forget… stop talking to him. Why did the idea of that suck almost as much as staying under this thumb? 

“____!” Bunette locks bounced as your friend came towards you, hand outstretched in a wave before she pulled you into a hug. “We’re all going to Midoriya’s place to celebrate graduating, come with?” 

You liked Uraraka. Well, you actually liked all of Izuku’s friends. They were sweet and honestly none-the-wiser to Izuku’s torments and taunts. She wore the kindest smile, eyes bright with the excitement of finally starting her adult life. 

You glanced at the rest of them, eyes flitting around friendly faces until your gaze met Izuku’s. He looked upset, eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes cold as he stood there. They all agreed, urging you to go before Izuku spoke up, smiling gently at you over the top of Uraraka’s head. 

“You should come. We’ll miss you if you don’t.” The rest of the group nods their agreement, but it wasn’t them that pulled the small okay from your lips. It was Izuku, the way his eyes had a threatening glint to them as he spoke, a smile creeping into them in the most unsettling of ways. Your stomach was turning again, twisting over and over because something about the way Izuku looked at you made you squirm. 

“Yay! Okay, we’re all gonna meet there after!” She smiled, taking your hands in hers and giving a small squeal. “It’s gonna be so fun!” 

And with that she was bouncing off with Asui in the direction of Kaminari and Kirishima. 

Izuku stayed behind, walking slower than his friends so he could bend down to speak to you. You could feel his breath against your neck as he spoke, words sending shivers down your spine. Despite the way your heart hammered against your rib cage, you tilted your head to hear him better. 

“You better be there, doll.” He muttered. “It’ll be worse for you if you’re not. Be a good girl for once, yeah?” 

He sounded more upset than usual, hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder hard enough to make you flinch, and when you looked up to meet his eyes, he didn’t wear his standard grin. Izuku looked angry, furious even. It made your skin crawl, made heat creep up your neck and onto your cheeks so furiously that you found it hard to see through. 

All you could do was nod, fighting the pout that tried so hard to paint your face. You squeezed your thighs together instinctively at the phrase. He never praised you, not even once. Hearing the words “good girl” drip from his lips so angrily made them fly shamefully south. He gave a small laugh before walking off. It was almost like he knew, leaving you to rub at your sore shoulder. 

---

Why were you here? You could have just not come and then you never would have had to see Izuku again, never would have had to deal with him until one day in the future when you’re too successful a hero to pinch. Still, you wouldn’t admit it to yourself or anyone else, but you might miss him. The teasing was a nightmare but it was attention, something that reminded you that at least Izuku still saw you. 

He couldn’t be ignoring you if he was calling you a slut. 

You arrived after everyone and Izuku opened the door for you with a jeering grin before stepping aside to let you in, pinching at your thigh again. He noticed immediately that you wore a skirt and he didn’t have to wonder why. It was an invitation for him, of course. 

You’d actually never been to Izuku’s house, so sitting in his living room eating snacks and drinking was unusual to say the least. It was surprising because beyond pinching you in the doorway, Izuku was being oddly kind. 

He sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, but he didn’t try anything. Didn’t whisper in your ear or grab at the fat on your side. You couldn’t help but ask yourself why. Even as the latter half of the day droned on, you were on edge despite being treated, finally, like one of the group. What did you do wrong? Was he no longer interested in you? Most importantly though, why were you upset that he wasn’t pushing your buttons? 

The end of the day came quickly, dark settling over the house while everyone gathered their things to leave. You’d all walk home together, leaving Izuku alone in his house. He smiled as everyone waved goodbye, bittersweet tears in his eyes as his final high school hang out came to a close. He cried at the ceremony while delivering his speech and then again at his house while Uraraka babbled on about her appreciation of UA. You can’t say you felt the same. 

“Not ____.” He said as you slipped on your shoes, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll walk her home since she lives in the opposite direction. Plus, I gotta give her something.” 

Izuku smiles at his friends, who all nod their understanding. They wouldn’t suspect that he’d do anything wrong, that he’d be keeping you behind to maybe, finally, torment you. What a fucked up way of thinking. The door to his house clicked shut and your blood ran far colder than you thought it would as he approached you. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” He taunted, a fake pout adorning his features. “Thought I’d let you off easy? After today?” 

Izuku raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes at the realization that you don’t know what he’s talking about. 

“Wow, you really are a slut aren’t you? Clinging to Bakugou so shamelessly today?” He scowled looked over you. 

Your eyes widened, lips parting as you remembered grabbing at Bakugou’s shirt, pulling him towards you earlier that day in a plea for help. 

“Did you think he would help you?” He sneered. “Bakugou’s just like me. He doesn’t care about a whore like you. Did you think that if you pushed against him like that he’d cave? Fold because your perfect body was flush on him?”

Izuku took your face between his pointer and thumb, spitting venom at you, waiting for you to respond. His compliment flew over your head. 

“N-no.” Yes. “I swear Izuku… I- I didn’t-” 

“You- you- you didn’t what?” Izuku responded, mocking your miserable stutter. “You’re my toy. Pisses me off when you let other people play with you.” 

And then he’s dragging you towards his room, pulling you into the cramped space and closing the door behind him. He’s muttering like he usually does, pushing you onto his bed so you’re sitting on the edge. 

Why were you so relieved right now? Why was your cunt already sticky with arousal? Why did every single word he was saying to you go straight south? You take your bottom lip between your teeth trying to find a way to shake your head in protest— to get up and leave— but the movement just wouldn’t come. Instead, you hang your head, eyebrows pulled up and cheeks flushed with heat as he stares you down. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, hardly audible over the sound of his frustrated breathing and your own rampant heart beat. “I’ve never done anything to you.” 

Izuku scoffed this time, stepping forward and taking your face in his hands again. 

“Haven’t done anything?” His words are venomous and his face is inches from yours, hot breath fanning across your cheeks. Were his hands always this big? “Dressing like that and saying you ‘haven’t done anything’?” 

His eyes flit down to the fat of your thighs, free hand groping the flesh hungrily, hard enough that it had you sucking in a sharp breath. Izuku couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours in an aggressive kiss. 

Truth was, you drove Izuku batshit crazy. Right from the moment he saw you he could hardly contain himself, prancing around in that tiny fucking skirt with an ass like that. Daring to act so innocent when he was gripping the edge of his desk to keep from pouncing on you as you introduced yourself to him, as you hung all over his middle school bully, or as you flashed your hot pink panties while in class. 

To him, you were asking for it and the way you played dumb only made his blood boil further. Izuku was a nice boy, always had been, but the day that he made you cry, telling you that you kind of looked like a slut in your skirt, was the day he knew that he’d have way too much fun with you. 

Your eyes got so big, welled up so quickly with tears that he knew were caused by him. It made him proud, made his chest swell at how quickly he could completely ruin your day. This must be how Bakugou felt, to some degree, except chances are that he wasn’t thinking about what your puffy, swollen lips might look like when you’re choking on his cock. 

He’d been thinking about it since he met you. Pushing you further and further because you were just so fucking cute when you cried and if he couldn’t consume your thoughts because you like him, then he’d have to settle for consuming them because you’re afraid of him. 

You grunted against him, eyes going wide as his lips crashed into yours. You were spinning, heart pounding as his tongue dipped into your mouth hungrily. He pulled away from you quickly. 

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, looking like that.” Izuku seethed. “If you’re gonna play clueless, y’might as well make use of yourself. S’what you deserve.” 

And without asking he pushed you from the bed and onto your knees in front of him. You knew where it was going, knew that Izuku wasn’t going to let up because this boundary was being crossed. Still, you shamefully rubbed your thighs together, blinking up at him in confusion and arousal. 

“Such a whore.” He said, freeing his cock from his pants and letting it slap against his stomach. Izuku relished in the way your eyes widened, in the way you unconsciously licked your lips. And then he’s tapping the side of your mouth with his cock, head tilted back in a taunt as he watches the way your eyes brim with premature tears. He’d show you real crying. 

“Suck it.” A simple command, but one that had you shivering. He kept his hand on your shoulder while his fingers dug into it with a force that was all too familiar. is cock throbbed in his hands as you sniffled and parted those pretty, glossed lips. 

Izuku didn’t wait, no, he couldn’t wait, pushing his full length to the back of your throat and beyond, groaning when it entered the tight, wet space beyond your mouth. His head fell back and his mouth fell open at the way you choked on him. Tears forced their way out of your eyes and down your cheeks as he began fucking your mouth. 

“Y-you’re a real crybaby, huh?” He cooed, a lazy half-smirk gracing his face. “You did this to yourself. Such– a fucking– tease.” 

He accentuated his words with harsh thrusts into your throat, drool pooling in your mouth and dribbling down his cock to his balls. It ran down your chin, mingling with tears as he continued to fuck your throat. 

Izuku was big, far bigger than you expected him to be. He completely filled your throat, stretching your unprepared mouth open. You could feel the sides of your mouth pulling at his size, lips cracking as you struggled to take all of him with each of his thrusts. Still, when you looked up at him through big teary eyes, knees growing sore from the way his fist held you to the floor, other hand pulling you against his cock, your cunt grew wet with arousal. 

He pulled you off him by your hair, watching the way you gasped and sputtered and sobbed. He loved the scratch in your throat as you coughed and he picked you up by the arm and crawled between your legs. 

“Wearing such a tiny skirt to my house.” He spit. “You knew what you were doing, lookin’ like that with your ass out and shit.” 

Izuku’s eyes scanned over you hungrily, like he’s been waiting to get you here for so long. Fuck, he still looked big, hovering over you and supporting his entire weight on one of his arms as his other hand wandered down. He flipped up the fabric of your skirt, admiring the way you flinched as his hand ran up your inner thigh. 

His hands ran over your figure, squeezing at the fat of your stomach, thighs, and chest. Izuku has been dying to get a piece of you since you met, since he first laid eyes on that frustratingly sexy figure of yours that led him to spiral to this moment. His hands dipped back to your inner thigh, ensuring that your skirt was out of the way, though it was so small already that it proved no obstacle at all. 

His breathing grew heavy, hand gently gliding along the supple flesh that he’s pinched so many times, marks from your final day of classes still fading. Izuku’s eyebrows were furrowed together as his hands found your panties, touching you over the fabric that was now soaked through. His eyes snapped to you so fast as he pulled the fabric aside with calloused fingers, wasting no time dipping his fingers into your soaking folds. 

“You fucking pervert.” He sneered, glancing down to show you just how wet you’d gotten, all for him. “You like it when I’m mean to you? So fucking dirty.” 

Izuku rubbed a swift circle around your clit and you brought your arm up to hide your face, biting into your forearm to muffle the sounds. You shook your head, squeaking out a no as his fingers curled up into you. 

“You sure about that? You’re dripping.” Izuku grunted, curling his fingers with his entire forearm and hearing a moan from you. “See? Fucking slut, giving me those eyes, like a lost puppy.” 

It was undeniable how you clenched around him and he let out a curt laugh of disbelief. 

“Oh… you like that name, don’t you, puppy?” He dipped down to bite at your neck, humming into the skin. 

You squirm beneath him but he has you caged in under, your legs unable to move around. Your stomach still turned in fear of him, but that fear was mixing with the intense pleasure building in your core. Even his fingers were a stretch and you could feel his thick cock hitting your abdomen with each aggressive curl, your mind consumed with just how good it would feel for him to break you open. After all, he’s chipped away at almost every ounce of self respect you had. In fact, he practically already owned you mentally, now he was just claiming what he should rightfully own physically. 

“I hate girls like you.” He spat, fingers picking up their pace as you were sent barrelling towards your high. “Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me. So fucking stupid. But look at you now— Your cunt is practically drooling on me— pathetic.” 

You were close, hot with arousal as he lifted your arm from your face. 

“Getting close huh? I can feel your whore cunt clenching. Y’wanna cum?” He grinned widely through furrowed brows. 

Your eyes were glossed over, tears spilling onto your cheeks and for a moment Izuku almost felt bad for you. Still though, you were just too fun to fuck with, too fun to absolutely ruin. You looked prettier than he could have imagined right now; face sticky with tears of arousal, embarrassment, and fear. Izuku was a nice boy, he really was, except when it came to you because now he just couldn’t stop himself from ruining your cunt. 

You were close, impossibly close as you bit your lip in an attempt to muffle the whiney yes that breached your lips. It was involuntarily, almost a survival response as his fingers continued making that delicious squelching sound. Those years of torment were beginning to twist. You were beginning to convince yourself that no, it wasn’t so bad, it’s okay to want to cream on his fingers and be his good girl. 

So you nodded, dew-filled eyes stricken with fear meeting his predatory ones in a confirmation. He was building you up so well, your stomach turning over and over, the knot tightening and set to break. And then he pulled his fingers from you as you clenched around nothing, a blinding orgasm ripped from you all by his fingers. Your back arched up off the bed and pathetic whines left your lips. 

“You’ll have to beg for it.” He smirked, sitting back on his knees, discarding your panties with a hard tug and running the head of his cock through your slick while you whimper. “Tell me you like it. C’mon. I’ll let you cum on my cock if you do.” 

Right now you were certain you’d do anything if it meant you were allowed to cream over him, so you parted your lips, hiccuping through broken sobs. 

“P-please Izu, need to cum.” Your voice was low and quiet. 

Izuku pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, glowering down at you as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up over those perfect tits that he couldn’t get enough of. He sucked in a sharp breath, facade falling for a moment until he brought his eyes back to yours. 

“You like it when I’m mean, huh? Lemme hear you say it.” Izuku gave a cruel smile, eyes darkened with lust. 

“Yes! Yes, I like it.” You shout, hand coming up to grab his arm, speaking through desperate tears. “Please fuck me, please Izu.” 

Izuku bottomed out in one fell swoop, hearing all he needed as he throws his head back, a groan of fucking pathetic falling lazily from his lips. He rolled his head across his shoulders, starting to move in and out of you, stretching your cunt open with each push and pull. 

“So fucking tight. You a virgin?” His tongue swiped at his teeth as he relished in the stretch and the way pain wet your cheeks. 

God, he fucking hated you. Hated every part of you. He hated the way your lips looked so good around him, the way your thighs squeezed so nicely around his waist, the way your tears only egged him on. It all made him want to hurt you. You brought out the worst in him. You were too fucking tempting, too easy. 

You weren’t a virgin but the stretch of his cock made you feel like one. God, you could feel him in your throat as you gripped pathetically at his biceps, a plea to get him to slow down. Izuku wouldn’t listen though, pounding into your gummy walls mercilessly. 

“Not gonna answer?” He laughed, low and threatening before folding your knees to your chest. “Tells me all I need to know. How many men have fucked this cunt of yours, huh? Bet it’s more than I can count on one hand.” 

Izuku brought his hand up to your face once more, squeezing your plump cheeks together. 

“Don’t worry, puppy. Gonna make it so you can’t take anyone else.” He spits in your mouth, forcing it closed. “Fuckin’ mine now, yeah? My little whore, always have been, right?”

You screw your eyes shut, swallowing sloppily as spit drips down your chin and tears streak from your eyes. Where did he learn to speak like this? 

“Say it.” 

You’re close again, so full of him, so desperate for him to give you what you want. You can’t resist him, so you might as well submit. Maybe it will make everything easier because you were finding it harder to pretend that you didn’t like it now. 

“Yours, m’yours.” You choke out, hand flying to his large one to move it over your throat. “Belong only to you.” 

Izuku squeezed the sides of your neck with startling force. It’s almost hateful in how strong it was but it made you whine out against him, voice raking against vocal chords that he forced closed. 

“Slut. S-such a slut.” He stuttered as you clenched around him, hitting your high with a roll of your hips and a pathetic whimper. “C’mon, gimme it, puppy.” 

Oh god, the pay off was unbelievable. The way you whined his name was better than any sob he pulled from you to date.You were so helpless,your body wracking with waves of pleasure and your pussy clamping down around him. This is what he saw in you the first time he made you cry— this expression. He knew you could make it, eyes big and wide, filled with tears and your mouth open in a deep moan. Fuck, he loved it. 

“God, so tight. Good puppy, good fucking puppy.” He fucked into you faster, chasing his own high now as he assaulted your overstimulated cunt. 

Your head spun, no longer preoccupied with the taunting or the tormenting. You were stupid on his cock, his good little puppy, like you were meant to be. You should have given in earlier, should have let him shove his dick down your throat sooner because even though you were struggling to get off his fat cock, you couldn’t, and you loved every single second of it. Izuku was only mean to you, only mean to his puppy. 

You’re so overstimulated, barreling towards another orgasm and now all you can think about is how bad you want him to fill you up. 

“C-cum inside.” You managed to choke out between pathetic sobs and whimpers. You’re crying for it, begging. “Please cum inside of me.” 

Izuku let out a low chuckle before bottoming out one final time, shoving his thick fingers down your throat and filling you up. When Izuku came, he came a lot. It flooded your cunt before leaking out the sides where he had you split open. Izuku couldn’t hide his true nature for long, his thighs beginning to quiver and a low groan becoming a high pitched whine as he emptied his balls inside of you like he’d been wanting to for so long. 

He stayed there for a moment before pulling out of you and crouching down to watch the way he spilled out of you, admiring your ruined pussy and body. You’re stretched out from him, tears staining your cheeks and cunt gaping from his cock.

And then he’s biting at your thighs, marking up the inside of your leg as you can barely manage to push out a squeal. He’s leaving the marks he’s always wanted to. Those pinches on the inside of your leg were a stand in for the ones he’d create with his teeth. He nipped at the sensitive skin before dipping his tongue into your folds to collect the mixture of him and you in his mouth. 

Izuku watched the way you twitched as he cleaned you up, admiring the way your legs flinched whenever he ran his tongue over your sensitive clit. He’s much gentler now but his eyes still frightened you when he came up from between your legs to spit the mixture of cum and arousal back into your slightly parted mouth, ordering you to swallow puppy. 

When you finally do— too tired and fucked out to think about protesting, he smiles— standing up off the bed and buttoning his pants with a heaving sigh.

Izuku turned back to your form on the bed, watching the way your chest heaved and the way your pleated skirt crowded at your hips, ruined cunt on display and shirt pushed up over your bitten up breasts. He made a mental note to remember to take your clothes off next time.

tags: @namrekcaivel , @mikaberries , @cleardamage , @veroyktv , @honeyzawa , @erenstellar , @female-titan , @kiyoobi , @pancakesv , @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein , @lazyezstudy , @jeanbabygirl , @peachysimp , @kirsteiiins , @babybottlepop96 , @ayannamika , @fiaficsxo , @chittaphon96​ 

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my taglist!

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

[thefanficmonster]

Hidden Powers

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Abuse allegations, Swearing, Mild melancholy

Genre: Humor, SLIGHT Angst, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic) - Sorry the genres are all over the place

Summary: A misconception or misunderstanding turned rumor threatens to bring down Corpse’s entire career, but luckily, Y/N knows better than to stand aside and let it happen.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request and I’m so sorry for the long wait but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the fic if you happen to come across it. Love, Vy ❤

“Fuck this game!“ Y/N yells out in frustration as she is met with the screen informing her of her failure - aka death - for the fifth time in the past hour. “Has anyone ever even passed night four? I’m sure the king of FNAF Markiplier has but I’m also sure he hasn’t done it one a livestream! And my big mouth really had to go ahead and swear not to end this stream until I pass this God forsaken night, ughhh!“

Typically, Y/N’s quite the fearful rat when playing horror games, especially when home alone like right now, but this FNAF game has gradually turned her into a raging gamer instead. Not raging as in kicking ass at the game but as in the game kicking the ass of her sanity. She’s been struggling with this specific night for a while - the better half of her previous stream and an hour into today’s. Well, seeing how little progress she’s making with each try, it’s gonna be way more than an hour into today’s livestream as well. She’ll be lucky if she manages to get past it before hitting the three hour mark or just rage quitting which she’s bound to do eventually if her gameplay keeps going at this rate.

Another try later, she’s once again jumpscared into a failure screen that’s practically mocking her at this point. Throwing her arms above her head, Y/N sighs heavily, the frustration she’s harboring becoming more and more evident in her body language. “You know what, I need a break. Lemme see what you guys are saying in the chat.”

Scrolling through comments upon comments greeting her, sending her compliments and some trolling her with some hateful remarks she comes across a question which makes her brows furrow. That same question is repeated by a few other people but they fly by so quickly she doesn’t manage to catch the people’s usernames.

“A bruise on my arm? Where?“ She says out loud as she inspects both her arms, looking for what her chat had been talking about. That’s when her eyes eyes land on the purple mark on the skin just above her right elbow. She laughs, “Oh this? I know I’m a clumsy person but Corpse is to blame for this one.“

Little does the girl know, her boyfriend, who’s currently in his own apartment instead of camping out at hers, is watching this very stream, laughing his ass off remembering how that bruise came to be.

His laughter is cut short though when he catches glimpse of Y/N’s chat which suddenly floods with concern from her fans - assumptions and allegations of him being an abusive boyfriend starting to pollute the previously cheerful comment section. His stomach turns, for many reasons, each reason making it tighten in a worse and more painful knot. 

The first blow comes from people actually coming up with such a thing. How could they even allow their minds to wander to such a dark and disgusting place where he’d be even remotely an abuser.

The second blow to his heart is delivered by the fact that people believed it. How and why could people believe such an absurd idea?! How low did these people think of him? What kind of piece of shit did he come off as to some people?

And the third is the mental image the idea gives him. It’s such a fucked up scene, he can’t even conjure it up, he can’t mentally picture it. Hell, he could and would never even raise his voice at Y/N. He’d never dare upset her or hurt her feelings let alone hurt her....like that!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!“ Y/N’s gasp reaches him as though it was meant to fish him out of the downward spiral he started going down with these overwhelmingly dark thoughts, “What’s with this nonsense some of y’all are spewing in the chat?!“ She sounds downright angry and irritated, ready to fight whoever will continue spreading these rumors about her lovely boyfriend whom she absolutely adores. “Guys, I mean, seriously?! Do you have any idea what you’re talking about and WHO you’re talking about? Do we have the same Corpse in mind here? I doubt we do - you have some villainized, abusive version, and I have the loving boyfriend who tried to teach me how to handle a lightsaber so we can have a lightsaber fight and my dumbass used my own weapon against me. Yeah, I was pretty salty Corpse laughed his heart out while I was cringing in pain, but man, you guys take it farther than the farthest.“ Seeing his sweet, kind and non-confrontational girlfriend who always avoids conflict at all costs turn into this protective lioness because someone is talking shit about him is heartwarming and scary at the same time. “Y’all better shut the hole where these fucked up rumors surfaced from before you get one of the most innocent, loving and caring individuals in hot water for the BS you came up with! Copy? You better.“

Corpse has never in his entire life seen the topic of a stream chat change so quickly, the rumor never once getting brought up again.

That’s some serious power right there - power he never knew Y/N possessed because of her cute and soft exterior. Now he knows what kinda beast of a woman he’s dating - one prepared to do anything to protect him, no matter who from. And damn does that make him feel emotional and loved despite the shit that just happened. She can make him forget all the bad within the blink of an eye - that too is another superpower of hers, but this one he’s known about from the very start.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #52

Warning: descriptions of confined/claustrophobic spaces, near-death experience.

The villain's chest rumbled with a groan as he slowly came to, awaking. Tiredly, he brought his hand up to his throbbing head but stopped midway as his arm banged against something hard above him. He opened his eyes, blinking, trying to adjust his vision as he felt around his surroundings.

...

Why could he not see anything?

...

And why... Why were there walls all around him?

...

Where was he? There was so little space. It was so tight he could barely move around, and-

...

...

...

He was in a coffin.

He was buried alive.

But- But who-

Villain inhaled sharply. Other Supervillain... His boss...

He remembered now. The other supervillain had called him in for a meeting. They were talking for a while, and- and everything was normal until- until...

...

...

'You played your part well Villain, but that's the thing... You did your part.'

...

'I don't need you anymore.'

...

...

The villain banged on the coffin door, punching, kicking with all his strength. He wasn't thinking straight, panic taking over his mind as his breathing turned chaotic. His limbs started to hurt, his body protesting for him to stop, but he refused to. As more and more of his energy became wasted, he clawed at the wood, desperate to get through, and hissed as something cut his hand.

Shaking and pausing his thrashing for a moment, he carefully felt around and found something sharp sticking out from the top of the coffin. It was long and slim in shape, as well as cold and metallic to the touch.

...

A nail.

The coffin had been nailed shut.

...

Villain screamed, adrenaline fueling him as he yelled, begging for help. He called out futilely, pleading, apologizing, making promises, claiming that he would do better, that he would be better. His throat began growing hoarse as he screamed out the names of the few allies he had...

But nobody answered.

Nobody came to save him.

...

...

It was so hot. The air had turned stuffy with the villain's frantic shrieks and struggles, but the tears that streamed from his eyes were worse, making his skin tingle as if it was on fire.

He pawed at the door, fingernails pathetically scraping against the wood as he became too tired to continue his attempts at breaking out. Despair filling his thoughts, soft whimpers and cries gradually slipped past his lips, bouncing off the coffin walls and echoing loudly inside his head.

...

...

...

SHH-HLINK

...

...

...

What... what was that just now? Did- Did he imagine it, or... or was that-

SHH-HLINK

...

SHH-HLINK

...

SHH-HLINK

...

Someone was above him, digging.

...

Villain screamed for help again, ignoring the pain that rose inside his throat. He hit the coffin walls once more, moving like a rabid animal, a shred of leftover adrenaline making him forget his exhaustion. The sound above him seemed to speed up in response, and his breath hitched as hope twinkled in his hectically beating heart.

A THUD sounded right on top of the door, shaking it under the villain's trembling fingers. The shovel scratched at the wood, getting rid of the last bits of dirt, and Villain followed it with his hands, helplessly feeling the small vibrations. He cried relieved tears as the wood creaked loudly, his savior peeling the coffin open. With a snap, moonlight suddenly assaulted his eyes, and he had to squint and blink rapidly to keep them open.

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him up, and Villain grabbed on with a bruising grip as the stranger got him out of the hole they had dug up to free him. He buried his face in the other's chest, shivering and frantically mumbling, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," over and over again.

"Shh, it's alright, sweetness." - a smooth, male voice comforted, holding him tightly. It sounded so pleasant to the villain's ears. It made him want to just... go limp in the other's hold... and... let him take him away... into the night...

...

He tensed up. Who... Who had saved him?

Slowly, he lifted his head, and as his gaze met with that of his savior, his blood ran cold.

Bright crimson eyes stared back at him, amused by his sudden terror. A small smirk adorned the other's pale lips, showing off one of his fangs.

A vampire.

And not just any vampire either. This... This was...

"Supervillain...?" - Villain's voice was so meek, he barely heard himself speak. His grip tightened in his fright.

A dark chuckle left the master criminal as the villain's heart began to race once more with newfound fear. Without warning, he rose to his feet, taking Villain with him.

Yelping in surprise, the smaller criminal wrapped his arms around the vampire's neck as he was lifted into the air. "W-Wait! What- What a-are you-"

"Relax, sweet thing. I didn't come all the way out here just to kill you." - the supervillain reassured, his features turning softer than the villain had expected.

The smaller criminal whimpered, untrusting. "T-Then why?"

"Other Supervillain betrayed you."

...

Villain averted his gaze, going silent. It wasn't a question or even a suspicion. It was a fact, plain and simple.

...

"I can help you get revenge on him, sweetness~." - Supervillain enticed in a gentle sing-song voice.

...

"W-What do you want in r-return?" - the villain asked quietly, side-eyeing the other nervously.

The vampire smiled. "Join me, and help me with my plans."

Villain tensed up, a shiver crawling down his spine. "Y-You- You don't have any h-humans working for you. Y-You always t-turn them..."

The supervillain's grin widened as he tilted his head playfully. "And~?"

"I- I-" - the smaller criminal stuttered, shaking fearfully in the other's hold. He- He just barely escaped a slow, painful death. He- He didn't want to-

"Aww, don't worry." - Supervillain cooed, furrowing his brows in pretend concern as he held the villain closely, leaning his face towards his. His voice turned low and gravelly, sending a different kind of shudder through the human in his arms. "I'll be sure to make it feel good, my sweet little Villain~."

Villain gulped, his face burning at the other's implication. His gaze jumped from one spot to the next, unsure of how to reply. Eventually, he closed his eyes, and taking an uneven breath, he buried his face in the master criminal's shoulder, silently choosing to agree. He knew struggling would be futile as the supervillain was much stronger than him and would turn him no matter what he said, so he might as well cooperate and make it, at least, somewhat pleasant for himself.

And besides, the vampire did save him from certain death... he owed him now, didn't he?

Pressing a soft kiss to the top of the villain's head and lightly chuckling when he cringed, Supervillain turned on his heel and began to walk off into the shadows.

Exhausted both physically and emotionally, Villain let the bigger criminal's powers wash over him, lulling him to a calm dreamless sleep.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 32

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 32 - This Venerable One is Coaxing You, It's Alright

Through the heavy lotus leaves, Mo Ran reacted like he had been struck by lightning. He was frozen in shock, all the conflicting feelings in his heart going wild, his expression unable to hide his emotions.

Shock, anger, bitter jealousy, irritation; all burst in him like fireworks. He moved his lips but was so angry, he couldn't even get a word out. He didn't even know what he was angry about. There was only one thought going through his head --

This Venerable One has slept with this guy. You think you're worthy enough to touch him?

Chu Wanning, you arrogant, egotistical, lewd slut! You, I can't believe you . . .

He didn't react at all. In this life, Chu Wanning didn't have the slightest passion or desire to engage with him. In an instant, something in his mind snapped.

All in all, it had been more than ten years, a lifetime, from birth until death.

When he was in his right mind, he was able to play it off easily, pretending to be calm.

But under the circumstances, his thoughts were chaotic and the truth was revealed. He still subconsciously believed that Chu Wanning belonged to him. Even now, he realized that he could even remember the taste of Chu Wanning's lips when they kissed . . . not to mention their desire-fueled, lustful interaction and passionate sex.

It was something that he didn't dare think about after he was reborn.

Until he saw Chu Wanning's naked back, saw that familiar figure, - broad shoulders and long legs, tight muscles, thin and powerful waist - immersed in the clear water.

These things that he had deliberately avoided, the lingering feeling he tried to forget, burst through his mind and swept away any resolve.

Mo Ran's mind went blank.

. . . This body made him react.

And it was a strong reaction that couldn't be contained at all. Just looking at it, a fire burned in his belly.

When he came back to his senses, he angrily shouted: "Chu Wanning!"

Chu Wanning actually ignored him.

The two people on either side of him held his shoulders. Steam rose from the lotus pond making it hard to discern the specific identity of the two people. But they are very close together, the distance between them dubiously close.

Mo Ran cursed. He plopped into the lotus pond and waded towards Chu Wanning—when he got closer, he realized —

I-It was actually two mecha men made of metal and redwood!

Even worse, they seemed to be taking advantage of the spiritual energy of the lotus pond water, channelling that energy into Chu Waning. Mo Ran, foolishly jumping into the water, had completely broken the spiritual energy flow . . .

He didn't know what kind of array Chu Wanning was using. He was unconscious, supported by the golden light coming from the metal palms of the two mechs. Those rays kept surging upward and converged on the wound on his shoulder, clearly healing it.

Mo Ran's intrusion caused the golden light to quickly dissipate. What was even more unexpected was that the array actually started to undo!

As the golden light dissipated, Chu Wanning's wounds began to rapidly spread. He frowned, stifling a grunt, and coughed out a mouthful of blood. Immediately, all the scars on his body began to tear open. The blood spilled out like smoke, seeping across the flower pool in an instant.

Mo Ran froze.

This was Chu Wanning's "Flower Spirit Sacrifice Technique"!

He realized that he might . . . be in trouble . . .

Chu Wanning's spiritual flow is a dual system of metal and wood. The metal energy was like "Tianwen", focusing on attack and defence. The redwood energy was used for healing.

Flower Spirit Sacrifice was one of those healing techniques. Chu Wanning could gather the spirits of hundreds of flowers to heal wounds. However, during the process, no other people should enter the array, otherwise, the spirits would scatter. Instead of healing, it would exacerbate the injury. In serious cases, Chu Wanning's spiritual core would most likely be snatched up by the spirits of the flowers.

Fortunately, Mo Ran had dabbled with the Flower Spirit Sacrifice Technique in his previous life and immediately severed the energy flow from the spirits. Chu Wanning, who had lost the support of the array, fell down and was steadily held by Mo Ran.

The unconscious shizun's face was pale, his lips blue, and his body was as cold as ice.

Mo Ran dragged him onto the shore. It was too dark out to see anything else. He half-held, half-dragged Chu Wanning back to his bedroom and lay him on the bed.

"Shizun? Shizun!"

After calling for him several times, there wasn't even the slightest tremble in Chu Wanning's eyelashes. Other than the slight rise in his chest, he looked dead.

Seeing Chu Wanning in this state reminded Mo Ran of his past life.

Inexplicably, his throat constricted and his heart raced.

In the last life, there were two people who died in Mo Ran's arms.

Shi Mei and Chu Wanning.

The two of them, one the love he had endlessly longed for, the other an enemy he had been entangled with all his life.

After Shi Mei was gone, Mo Weiyu ceased to exist in the world.

After Chu Wanning?

Mo Ran didn't know. He only remembered that, on that day, he guarded the person in his arms as he grew cold. He didn't cry, he didn't laugh; joy and sadness became out of reach.

After Chu Wanning was gone, Mo Weiyu no longer knew what the world was.

The lights were bright, illuminating Chu Wanning's exposed upper body.

Yuheng of the Evening Sky typically wore tight clothing. His overlapping collar was folded tight and high, and his waistband was wrapped around his waist three times, proper and simple.

Therefore, no one had seen how injured his body was after two hundred strikes . . .

That day, while he was being punished in the Court of Discipline, Mo Ran saw the beating wounds on Chu Wanning's back with his own eyes. At that time, he only knew that it was bloody and extremely grotesque. But then he saw that Chu Wanning walking around like normal and thought that he probably hadn't been hurt that badly.

Only at this moment did he realize that Chu Wanning's injuries were far more serious than he had imagined.

The five holes left by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost had fully reopened, the deepest of the holes even exposing some bone.

Chu Wanning probably didn't let anyone help reapply the medicine. He did it all by himself. The ointment was unevenly applied, and some places that he couldn't reach were inflamed and ulcerated.

Not to mention the bruises from the cane. They covered his entire back, almost no skin left unmarred. Plus, with the backlash from the array, now Chu Wanning's wounds were all torn open, blood flowing, staining the sheets underneath him.

If he didn’t witness it with his own eyes, Mo Ran wouldn't have believed that the person who insisted on wiping the bridge pillars and opening a huge rain-blocking barrier for the disciples was the person in front of him - this kind of serious injury could be classified as "debilitating".

If Chu Wanning hadn't lost consciousness, Mo Ran really wanted to grab him by the collar and ask him——

Chu Wanning, are you really that prideful?

If you bow your head and give in, who will stop you? Why do you have to be so stubborn? You're an adult. Why don't you know how to take care of yourself and treat yourself better?

Why are you so reluctant to ask others to help treat your wounds?

Why would you rather have two mechs help you with a healing array rather than ask for help?

Chu Wanning, you're delusional!!

Are you that stubborn?

He cursed to himself while he quickly tapped some acupuncture points to stop the bleeding. Then he fetched some hot water and wiped away the bloodstains on Chu Wanning's back . . .

The sharp knife was quenched and cut off the flesh that had completely festered.

For the first time, Chu Wanning groaned in pain, and his body jerking subconsciously. Mo Ran held him down, irritated: "What are you moaning for? Haven't been fucked recently? If you make any more noise, I'll stab you straight in the chest. If you die, it won't hurt anymore! It'll all be over!"

It was only at a time like this that Mo Ran could reveal his violent nature and scream at him like he did in his previous life.

But there were too many places where the wound was white and rotting. He gradually cleaned it while Chu Wanning was muttering and panting.

Even if he was unconscious, he worked hard to suppress his discomfort. He didn't shout or cry out in pain, simply covered in a layer of cold sweat. His body, which had just been wiped clean, was soaked in sweat again.

After working for almost an hour, he had finally applied the medicine and bandaged the wound.

Mo Ran helped Chu Wanning into some clothes and grabbed a thick blanket to cover the fevered shizun. He breathed a sigh of relief. Remembering that Madam Wang mixed medicine was still sealed in the paper bag, he took some boiling water and brewed a bowl of medicine, bringing it to Chu Wanning's bedside.

"Come on, take the medicine."

He picked up the sleeping person with one hand, letting him lean on his shoulder, and spooned the tonic with the other hand. He blew it and tried a sip first.

Mo Ran immediately frowned, his face screwed up: "Damn it, it's that bitter?" But he still let it cool and feed it to Chu Wanning.

Inevitably, after just half a spoonful, Chu Wanning couldn't stand it. He choked and coughed, spitting out the concoction, most of which splashed on Mo Ran's clothes.

Mo Ran: ". . ."

He knew that Chu Wanning didn't like anything bitter. He was almost afraid of it.

But if he was in his normal state of mind, the stubborn Elder Yuheng would definitely push through his disgust, swallowing the medicine in one swig. At most his face might pucker afterwards and he'd secretly eat a piece of candy.

Unfortunately, Chu Wanning was currently unconscious.

Mo Ran couldn't help it. It's not good to lose your temper with someone who's unconscious so you have to be patient and feed him small sips. From time to time, you have to use a handkerchief to wipe the tonic from the corner of his mouth.

This wasn't a difficult chance for Mo Ran. After all, in his previous life, for a while, he regularly had to feed Chu Wanning. At that time, Chu Wanning resisted, and Mo Ran slapped him in the face. Then he'd grab his chin and roughly kiss him, his tongue rushing in, blood flowing . . .

He didn't dare think too deeply about it. The last few spoonfuls Mo Ran fed him were a bit sloppy, almost half of them coughed up by Chu Wanning. Then he put the man to bed, Chu Wanning harshly twisted the covers.

"I'm so kind. Don't kick the blankets off, you'll get a fever. If you're not careful, you'll catch a cold again . . ."

Halfway through his rant, he suddenly lost his temper and kicked the leg of the bed.

"Forget it. What do I care if you catch a cold? I hope you get sicker and sicker and die.""

After speaking, he turned and left.

When he reached the door, he felt a tug in his heart and couldn't ignore it. So he turned back, thought about it, and put out the candle for him. Then he left again.

This time he walked to the edge of Red Lotus Pond. Looking at the increasingly beautiful water lilies that had been dyed with Chu Wanning's blood, the annoyance in his chest only grew.

He was annoyed but still returned to the bedroom.

He stiffly walked around the room like a rusty and ageing mecha before he finally reluctantly stood next to Chu Wanning's bed.

The moonlight peaked in from the half-open bamboo window, the silver glow fanning across Chu Wanning's handsome face.

His lips were pale, and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

Mo Ran hesitated and closed the window for him. It was very humid overnight. Sleeping with the windows open at night was always bad for a person. After doing this, Mo Ran inwardly cursed:

Just walked through the door and leave, you damned dog!

So, just as he walked to the door, with a bang, Chu Wanning actually kicked the blanket off.

Mo Ran: ". . ."

How could this person's habit of kicking the covers off the bed be changed?

In order not to be a dog, the sixteen-year-old Emperor TaXian had the backbone to ignore it and walk away.

He was true to his word and would never walk through that door!

A few moments later.

-- The wise and powerful emperor opened the window and tumbled in.

He picked the blanket up off the floor and covered Chu Wanning again. Mo Ran listened to Chu Wanning's soft painful groan. He twitched. Watching him curl up in the corner of the bed, no longer looking even half as fierce as he normally did.

His lips were cursing that he "deserved it", but, out of his compassion, he still started moving.

He sat by Chu Wanning's bedside and stood guard. He wouldn't let him kick the blanket off again.

It was late at night. After an exhausting day, Mo Ran couldn't keep his eyes open. His head slowly nodded down and he fell asleep.

It wasn't a good sleep. Chu Wanning kept tossing and turning. In his sleepy state, Mo Ran seemed to have heard him humming lowly.

Through his drowsiness and restful sleep, Mo Ran could barely distinguish between what was day or night. Somehow it had become natural to lie next to Chu Wanning and hold his twitching and trembling figure. He squinted his sleepy eyes, subconsciously stroking his back. He held the person in his arms and muttered softly in his sleep: "It's alright, it's alright. It doesn't hurt . . . It doesn't hurt . . ."

Mo Ran fell asleep, murmuring, as if he had returned to the Life-Death Peak of his previous life, back to the desolate and empty Wushan Hall.

Since Chu Wanning died, no one had slept beside him.

Even if their intimacy was bred out of hatred, those days after days spent in the cold made him think of nothing but his heartache, like ten thousand ants were devouring his heart.

But when he thought about it again, Chu Wanning couldn't come back.

He lost the last flame in his life.

On this night, Mo Ran embraced Chu Wanning, half-asleep and half-dreaming. One moment it was clear that he was living a new life, and in another, it was like it had been way back then.

He suddenly couldn't bear to open his eyes for fear that he would wake up tomorrow to an empty pillow and cold sheets. He was the only one left in a long life in this uncertain world.

He undoubtedly hated Chu Wanning.

However, when he held this person in his arms, the corners of his eyes grew a little moist.

He was the thirty-two-year-old Emperor TaXian, holding the warmth that he thought he would never find again.

"Wanning, it doesn't hurt anymore . . ."

His mind was hazy. Like before he had been reborn, Mo Ran stroked the hair of the person in his arms, muttering softly, unconsciously blurting out such a tender line.

He was so sleepy that he didn't even realize what he had said or what he had called the other. He spoke the words without any thought. They had just slipped out naturally. Mo Ran's breathing evened out and he plunged into an even deeper sleep.

Early the next morning, Chu Wanning's eyelashes fluttered and he leisurely awoke.

He had a strong cultivation base and the high fever that he had gotten overnight was already gone.

Chu Wanning drowsily opened his eyes, his mind still a bit fuzzy. He was about to get up but suddenly realized that someone was lying in the same bed as him.

. . . Mo-Mo Weiyu???

His shock wasn't something trivial. The colour drained from Chu Wanning's face. He couldn't remember what happened last night. What's worse, his movements had woken up Mo Ran.

The young man yawned. With a smooth and delicate face with a healthy blush that was typical of a sound sleep, he raised his confused eyes. He glanced at Chu Wanning lightly, and languidly said: "Ah . . . let me sleep a while longer . . . Since you're awake, go and cook me a bowl of preserved egg and pork congee . . ."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

What was all this nonsense? Was he talking in his sleep?

Mo Ran was still out of it. Seeing that Chu Wanning didn't move, nor did he urge others to get up to cook the congee, he lazily smiled. He stretched out his hand and lowered Chu Wanning’s face, giving him a familiar kiss on the lips.

"It's okay, you don't have to get up. I just had a nightmare. In my dream . . . ah . . . nevermind." He sighed and embraced the man who had become completely lifeless and stiff. His chin rubbed against the hair of the person in his arms. He muttered, "Chu Wanning, let me hold you again."

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Can You Get Enough Of Me? - Michael Myers x Reader

"It's a nice day today, huh?" Y/N smiled up at the sky as she went back and forth in the swing. "Will you push me, Mickey?" "Sure." he shrugged as he got off his own swing and went behind her, pushing her the best he could. "Look, Mickey, I'm flying! Whooooo!" the little girl giggled without a care in the world, as Michael watched her long, beautiful hair going everywhere. "Okay, okay, I wanna swing too!" but before the girl could take her time and stop swinging, a bunch of older boys came by and roughly grabbed the chains holding the swing, which in turn, made the girl fall off and get hurt. "Y/N!" Michael gasped as he ran to her side, helping her up, and seeing the blood seeping from one of her legs and arm. "Aww, Myers's got a giiirlfriend! Look at them, gonna fuck? Girl, don'tcha know, Myers's a faggot?" the gang hollered maliciously, and Y/N could only frown, despite the tears of pain from her injuries, and clinging on Michael for support, she got up and yelled at the boys. "Leave Michael alone, jerks! You're rude!" but instead of trying to fight them off, or go in a brawl, she grabbed her friend's arm and dragged him away from there, knowing that if he were to get in trouble again, he'd get some bad detention, and that's the last thing she'd want. Besides...Two kids couldn't possibly fight those guys. "Why didn't you let me fight them?! I could've taken them on!" the blond boy glared at his friend, who only rolled her eyes and sighed at his childishness. "No, you couldn't. Besides, if the teachers find out you got in trouble again, who knows what will happen? Come on, let's go to the fountain, I have to wipe off the blood." Y/N muttered, going on ahead to sit on the rocks by the fountain and took out her handkerchief from her little bag, dipping it in the water and carefully wiping away the red liquid streaming down her limbs, hissing from the pain here and there, but otherwise, staying completely silent. "I'm sorry..." the girl suddenly heard the blond boy mutter, barely audible. "Huh? What do you have to be sorry about, Mickey?" as her eyes widened from the shock, she leaned forward, raising his chin up with her finger. "...I couldn't protect you. I suck. I'm as bad as that fuckass says I am..." he sighed, gently pulling away her hand and looking away from her. "Look at what they did to you. Could've been much worse. And yet, you stood up for me, while I did nothing. I'm a horrible friend." his voice was pitiful, and it was obvious he hated his lack of strength. "First of all, you aren't just my friend. You're my BEST friend. Okay? And nothing in this world will change that. Got it? Okay. Second of all, we're still little and weak. That's how kids are. Trying to fight those guys is like trying to fight the forces of nature...You...You can't fight a hurricane, you know? And...Violence isn't the answer. I mean...Look at our parents. There's nothing good coming out of that...But someday! Someday we'll get older and stronger, and nobody will bully us anymore! It just...It takes a while...I guess." she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, trying to comfort him. "That's shit! They'll see, they'll ALL pay for it! Nobody will dare be fuckers with us anymore! And when I grow up, I will make sure everyone is nice to you." he was so revolted, but his anger gradually dissipated as he felt her warmth. "Please don't speak like that. Calm down, Mickey. Things are okay now. At least we have each other, and we will always have each other, don't forget that, okay?" she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a while, only to hear an aggressive male voice booming through the park which made the girl yelp and tremble in fear. "GET AWAY FROM THAT FREAK, Y/N! GET HERE RIGHT NOW!" her father yelled at her and she could only whimper silently, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. "B-But daddy, Michael is not bad...! H-He tried to protect me from those mean boys from the playground!" she spoke meekly, slowly walking in front of her father, her head hung in fear, only for the man to burry his hand in

her hair, pulling on it roughly, making the girl yelp in pain. "Don't talk back to me, you stupid little bitch! You have no right to go against what I say while you're under MY roof, got it? Home, now." Michael couldn't even retaliate in any way, knowing that if he were to cause trouble for her, she would get in even more trouble, and that's the last thing he'd want...But why did it have to be her...?

He can take it, alright...But her...That's just not acceptable. She is small, and weak, and frail, and innocent...And there is nobody who can protect her.

Nobody but him...

----

"Michael, Michael, are we going trick or treating today?" Y/N asked, skipping around him in her cutesy witch costume, while he was a boring clown. "I guess." he shrugged, pulling down his clown mask. "Come on, it's Halloween, Mickey! You love Halloween! It's your favourite holiday! And we get free candy! It's gonna be fuuun~!" she bumped him with her body, making him stumble a bit, before looking at her and groaning. "Fine, fine, we're going. I just have to tell my mum." he grabbed her wrist and dragged her to his house, but on the way, she stopped him. "Hey, how about we trick or treat all the houses on the way to yours? I mean, there's nothing bad in that, right? We're just going home! It's not even considered a detour!" Y/N grinned widely, her beautiful eyes sparkling with excitement. "...Okay, let's do that." as he said that, Michael took out his candy bag from his schoolbag and taking her hand, they went to all house from both sides of the street. "Trick or Treat!" they both exclaimed as the first grandma opened the door with a loving look on her face. "Ahh, my, my, how cute you two are! And what do we have here...A very adorable, magical witch! And...A funny clown! How lovely!" the woman clapped her hands together to her chest, admiring the two kids. "Ma'am, he's not just a clown, he is my jester! Isn't he so cute?" she threw her arms around his neck, slamming his face to hers as she grinned even wider, making the woman laugh at them. "Yees, yes, I understand! Here, darlings, you're so adorable, take all of these. Hope to see you two, cuties, next year as well! Have fun!" the grandma patted both their heads before going back to her home. "Wiiicked! Look how much candy we've got! My fave holiday is Christmas, but honestly, Halloween is a very close runner up! Our teeth will literally rot after this!" the girl giggled as she inspected each variety of candy in her bag, "I love it 'cause I can spare people." Michael shrugged simply, but he also munched on some candy corn. "Would you scare me, Mickey?" Y/N turned her face to his, her eyes widening with a glimmering, innocent curiosity. "...No. I wouldn't. But you're the only one, okay?! Everyone else, I'd scare!" he tried to sound scary and dangerous, but it only made the little girl giggle and kiss his cheek. "You're my hero! My handsome knight in shining armour, Mickey! Thank you for protecting me. You're the best." help his soul, he wasn't used to people saying good things about him... "...But I'm ugly...That's why I wear a mask so often..." he muttered, looking down at the ground. "No! That's so not true! You're very pretty, okay? I love your face! And you have the most gorgeous eyes in the world! And...And...And your hair is so lovely, I'm jealous! Please don't say bad things about yourself, Mickey, it makes me very upset." she pouted, hugging him tightly, and it was pretty clear neither of them wanted to let go. "You won't leave me, would you, Y/N?" Michael's low voice came out barely above a whisper, but it was the only time he ever allowed himself to show any kind of weakness or vulnerability. "Never. Some day, we will be together forever, okay?" she ruffled his hair playfully, which made his face flush softly. "Hey, actually...Here you go. This is yours now. This way, if you're ever lonely, you'll remember I'm always thinking of you, okay?" Y/N grinned sweetly at him as she took off her flower-charmed necklace and put in on him, hiding it under his costume, so nobody else could see it. "Mum gave this to me on my birthday, before she died. It means the world for me, and so do you. So...Don't forget that, okay? I hope you'd smile more, you have a very pretty smile." as she said that, she squished his chipmunk cheeks.

The boy said nothing - What was he supposed to do, anyway? He was overwhelmed entirely by the only person who makes him feel...Good? But he had to go home, and he already knew that home was hell, and by the time he went there, he knew he wouldn't actually be going trick or treating, as promised...And he'd have to let Y/N down again.

Stupid family.

With a very disappointed voice, he went outside of the house and told the girl that he can't go trick or treating with her, but instead of yelling or disappointment, she just smiled and hugged him.

"It's alright! There's always next year! And besides, we already kinda went trick or treating, right? Sweet dreams, Mickey! Take care!" she waved at him cheerfully and skipped back home.

But little did she know that would be the last Halloween they'd spend together, for that night, a massacre happened at his home, and deep down, Y/N knew.

She just...Knew.

It was Michael who created that blood bath. He couldn't take all that abuse anymore, and Y/N understood that well enough...And she hated herself for thinking this, but she knew she was selfish...

If Michael didn't kill his family, they'd still have been able to hang out daily, and laugh together, lick each other's wounds, and go trick or treating on Halloween...

But she had to be happy with visiting him at Smith's Grove institute weekly with his mum, and they'd chat, and talk, and try to get him out of the shell that he hid himself into...

And he wouldn't stop hiding his face behind his masks, every week, a new one, a new one, and a new one, each time, weirder and creepier and grotesque.

No matter what his mother told him, and no matter what Y/N told him...Michael didn't listen, and the more time he spent there, the less he spoke...Until he hasn't said a word to Y/N in at least two weeks. It made the poor girl tear up, fearing that he hated her, but at least he'd shake his head and clutch his shirt where the gifted necklace would be.

And she would understand.

His mother was confused, and the Dr. was confused as well, but Y/N wasn't, and she'd smile at him and wouldn't explain what happened. It was their little secret, and nobody would be able to be made aware of.

And then...After many weeks of visiting, Michael stuck again and killed a nurse, which led to his mother committing suicide, and since she had nobody to go with to visit him, the last thing she could do was send in letters weekly, hoping they will be given to him, but she had no way of knowing, since nobody wanted to tell her anything, and no reply came by.

Until she gave up writing, thinking that Michael actually hated her, and decided to go on with her life, and her father made her move away to another state to get better education.

15 years passed, and the now 27 year old Y/N was a University graduate who worked hard and was able to get her old home in Haddonfield...To think she'd finally be able to go there again, she never would have thought that.

But here she was, having found a nice, well-paying job, and she was pretty happy, albeit nostalgic, being again back...Home. By the time she returned, she had already learnt how to play the guitar too, so every Friday night, she'd sit on her porch and play a song, softly singing along, hoping not to disturb anyone.

"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for loving me..." she hummed, singing the song by Kiss as she looked up at the starry night with no care in the world.

It was a simple life, but it was good and peaceful - And she had quite a lot of money to do with as she pleases - What else could ask for?

"BREAKING NEWS! A psychiatric patient from Smith's Grove escaped just last night and -..." but Y/N didn't bother hearing the rest of it, because...Because... "Michael...!" she gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands from the shock, tears threatening to fall and she goes outside, looking around, left and right, down the street, hoping to see a glimpse of the blond boy she once held so dear to her heart.

And what a coincidence, tomorrow night was Halloween...Did he do it on purpose? Did he even remember the days they spent together? Or how special Halloween was for him? Did he still have that silly necklace with him? Did he ever read her letters?

So many questions that she was pretty sure she'll never get an answer to, and that thought alone killed her.

The next day, she dressed in her Kiss loose Tshirt, remembering how that was Michael's favourite band, and somewhere in her heart, she hoped to see him again, even just by a little bit. Even a glimpse at his beautiful blue eyes would be enough.

But she knew she was dreaming...

She went to work as usual, but she was so busy that she didn't realise she ended up overstaying and overworking herself until she left the place and realised it was already dark outside, and there were barely any children trick or treating - But hey, there still were a few - And Y/N couldn't help but smile and remember the cute witch and her loyal jester.

The good times...

As she hummed carefree and looked up at the starry sky, but then she heard a crack, and looking back...Nothing? Hmm...Suspicious... She continued walking, but the ominous feeling in the back of her head continued, and so, she took out her pocket mirror and noticed a man somewhere in the back, walking towards her. A colleague from work, she recognised him, yes, she remembers him. He was kicked out from the job because of his inappropriate behaviour...And him following her now truly was no good news.

Analysing the situation, she realised she was close enough to home to make a break for it, so taking a deep breath, she sprinted the hell out of there...But...things didn't go as expected.

Before she could even reach her home, for she was pushed to the ground and straddled, his hands immediately finding their way around her neck, trying to immobilise her, to stop her from struggling and let him have his way with her.

But Y/N was a fighter, and she didn't want to allow the bullying she experienced as a child to take over her adult life, but she also didn't have the body strength to go against this guy, no matter how much she tried to struggle.

However...Before she knew it, the man stopped - Almost as if he froze - And she was splattered with liquid. It was blood. The man above her was stabbed in the chest, then in the head continuously, before his body was snatched and tossed away like a ragdoll.

Great - Y/N thought - From one criminal to another, with a whimper, she tried to get up and run away, but the man was too fast for her, and he picked her up with a weird ease, getting her inside her own house and letting her fall down on her couch.

The man saw fear in her eyes, and she was whimpering, her head hung as she tried to make herself as small as possible - As if she wasn't already so small, especially compared to him - It was pissing him off, as he remembered her jackass father abusing her. He would never hurt her! He promised her he'd always protect her, so why is she so scared of him...?!

"E-Excuse me...Uhm...Mister...A-Are you...Maybe...Uhmm...Are you Michael...?" she stuttered in such a meek voice that it grated his brain. This isn't right, Y/N was cheerful and happy. This...This wasn't right... The man got a hand underneath the neck of his blouse, only to reveal the old flower necklace from long ago. "Michael...! It really is you...Michael...I can't believe it! Oh my God...You grew up so much, this is insane!" as if a switch turned inside her, the girl jumped on her couch and threw herself on the incredibly tall man, not caring whether he liked it or not.

He was her Michael, and she missed him.

"You still don't talk, do you? Well...At least take off this mask of yours. I told you, I hate it when you hide yourself from me. I want to see your beautiful face." she chuckled, pulling Michael down with her on the couch, as he stood with his hands mid-way in the air, rather awkwardly, before finally pulling up his old mask and threading with it with his hands that were laying on his lap. "There we go, as beautiful as ever." she chuckled softly as she parted his long, dirty blond hair and letting it fall down his back, so his face could properly be seen. "Oh my God, you even have a stubble. I can't believe it. Well, we are all grown up after all, aren't we? Seems like almost yesterday when we'd go trick or treating...On this very day." she kept talking of the nostalgic things from so long ago, so much that it made Michael grunt in amusement, but his face didn't sketch any emotion. It really upset Y/N, it felt like talking to a wall. "Well, at least I'm happy that you remember me. I didn't think you did. I kinda thought you hated me too, I didn't know if you got any of my letters either. Uhm...I don't really know what to say. It's weird talking to myself like that. But I'm happy to see you again." she continued speaking before stopping altogether and fidgeting awkwardly on her spot next to him, as he didn't even move, or bother saying a single word.

They stood like that for a while, until Michael suddenly started moving, and revealed a bunch of unopened letters - All from her.

"You have all of them...!" Y/N gasped in shock, taking the letters and examining all of them one by one. "Why didn't you open them?" but instead of an answer, he shook his head. "Did you...Not have them...Until recently?" Y/N tried to guess, and the answer came in the form of a nod. "That stupid doctor! How dare he?! ...You must have felt so lonely stuck there...With your mum shooting herself, I couldn't go there anymore, so I sent you letters weekly...The doctor promised to give them to you...Urgh, what a jerk. And I thought you hated me and that's why you didn't want to reply to them...But you just got them. How annoying." Y/N groaned, realising the truth of what happened, and she let the letters fall down on the coffee table.

After some more silence between the two, Michael pointed towards her shirt, and she smiled, nodding and taking her guitar before leaning on his side. "Yeah, I know it's your favourite band. I never forgot that." she chuckled, and as she started playing the same song she knew so well - And she felt a strong arm sneaking around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. It surprised her a bit, but she felt so safe and warm in his embrace.

"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for lovin' me. And I can't get enough of you, baby..." she sang in the same sweet, crystalline, soft voice that he loved so much, and missed over the many years they've been separated.

"...Can you get enough of me?"

[hollandsmushroom]

Lost In My Brain

Hello everyone, so this concept came from the very very depths of my brain as I went into a deep dissociative episode and I wrote this to pull myself out by imagining semi mob tom comforting me. 

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MUCHLY APPRECIATED 

Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You aren’t replying to Tom’s texts so he is really worried, he finds you in a state of trauma and unable to really communicate. 

Warnings: Please read this at your own comfort, I wrote this to help me cope and I thought someone else might want to read it. I have written about extremely personal topics in this and I am not talking about stuff that I don’t know anything about, I suffer from dissociative PTSD. So warnings really include mentions of an unidentified trauma, Dissociation, Dissociative PTSD, Loss of recognition of faces, mentions of Mob Tom, missing person?, Trauma that happened at night, intrusive thoughts, thoughts that you are actually dead. 

Masterlist

Request Here

Word Count: 1577

Tom’s meetings had run late, he had messaged you throughout the discussions to keep you updated and so you wouldn’t worry but it was him who worried as his phone remained void of any response from you. He began to grow antsy as the conversations just dragged on. He gave his input whenever he had to but most of his time was spent trying his hardest to seem as if he was paying attention and then checking his phone to see if you had responded, and every time his phone screen was blank. His worry was beginning to overtake his body, he worked in a dangerous profession and people knew that the best way to get to him was through loved ones, you being the main one. The thought of something bad having happened to you made his heart break, the thought of someone hurting you added to that made his blood boil. It wasn’t like he was overreacting, you were always very attentive to responding to him when he was in meetings, you knew that under his hard mobster outside he worried about you a great deal and if you could do anything to ease that, you would, and that is why he was freaking out to this extent. As soon as the meeting came to a close he left immediately, ignoring the people who tried to catch his attention on his way out, focused only on getting home to you. 

  Tom walked into the house, calling out your name and receiving no response in turn his heart beginning to pound as the silence reverberated in his ears. With an urgency he began making his way through the rooms of your shared house. He started in your bedroom, eyes landing on the perfectly made bed, signalling to him that you never went to bed, he made his way through the guest rooms, your office, the living room, by the time he reached the kitchen he was on the verge of tears. Hands grabbing on to the counter as he faced the empty living room, retrieving his phone from his slacks pocket and quickly dialing up his mate Harrison. 

“Mate?” Tom asked as he heard the phone be answered on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah?” His friends tired voice answered, clearly having been woken up by Tom’s call

“I can’t find Y/n, I don’t know where she is” At this point Tom felt like he was on the verge of breaking down, the idea that something had happened to you and he wasn’t there to protect you made him see red.

“Wait? You can’t find her?” there was a rustle from the other line, Harrison having sat straight up in bed, shock over taking him. 

“Yeah, mate and I am kind of starting to freak-” Tom spun around, leaning his back against the cool marble countertop when his eyes caught on the open sliding glass door leading to your backyard, a dark figure sitting on the cement ground rocking slightly. 

“Mate, I'm gonna have to call you back” he ignored his friend's words of worry as he hung up, placing the glowing screen face down on the counter and making his way outside. As soon as he passed the threshold of the door sniffles reached his ears. The weather wasn’t freezing but it definitely wasn’t warm enough for you to be sitting there in nothing but one of Tom’s shirts, bare thighs on the cool ground. 

“Love?” Tom called as he made his way to your quivering figure, shoulders throwing themselves back and forth as you attempted to rock yourself in comfort. He reached a hand out to your shoulder, but you flinched away from his touch causing his heart to shatter. With the jerk of your movement his eyes caught your face, tears staining your cheeks. 

“Love it's me” Tom assured, once again reaching his hand out to you, and this time you let him, his hand soothing over your shoulder causing it to cease its shaking as you eased into his touch. He did this gradually, progressively enveloping you further into his hold, a protective embrace, your face tucked into his chest as his hand rubbed up and down your back, trying to warm your body as you began to shiver from the night air. 

“Let's get you inside, darling” Tom’s soothing touch helping you off the ground. He grabbed your hand, gently moving you into the house, and led you to the bathroom. His hands grabbed your hips, placing you onto the bathroom counter, you sat there, eyes trained on the wall ahead as Tom dampened a washcloth, moving back to you to wipe the snot and tears off of your cheeks, he stood in your view for the first time, his hands reaching towards you as you examined his face, causing you quickly push him away, hurt flashing across his unknown feature as you distanced yourself from him, scooting back on the counter curling further into your own body. 

“Y/n?” His voice sounded defeated, reaching out again only for you to have the same reaction. His voice, you knew his voice, and his face didn’t seem completely unknown, something about him was familiar. It was so close to the face you loved so much but your eyes were distorting his features.

“I...I don’t know who you are?” He could have sworn he broke when you said that. 

“Baby, it’s me, it’s Tom” he cooed, trying to understand what was happening, fear bruning through his chest and all the way down to his gut, feeling as if his world was slipping from under his feet. 

“No, I-I know it’s you but..but I look at your face I don’t recognize it, it’s off, it’s not quite right and I don’t know who you are, you look like I stared at you for too long and you lost all feature, Tommy, I don’t know who you are and I don’t know who I am” your tears began to flow again as you looked in the mirror, your face was just a little bit off till it wasn’t your face anymore. You closed your eyes and shook your head violently causing Tom to gasp, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to halt your movements. 

“Stop, baby, please stop, it’s me, it’s Tommy, I’m right here” his voice soothed you, peeling your eyes back open, you saw his face, it was right, it was your Tommy. 

“Tom?” His name but a question on your tongue as he cupped your cheek. 

“Yes it’s me,” the pad of his thumb brushed away tear streaks. “What’s happening, sweets, talk to me please” he pleaded, eyes begging you to let him know what was happening. 

“I’m dead Tommy” you explained but it only made it worse, yes widening comically as fear shot through his body. 

“W-what do you mean you’re dead?” His mind was racing, had someone put a hit on you? Did you need to go into hiding? He felt like he was falling into every possible issue that you could be having but he was cut off by your voice again. 

“I was thinking earlier and what if I died that night? What if I didn’t get out of the way? This is the after life” you mumbled, fully convinced that you had lost your mind. 

“You are not dead” Tom demanded 

“How do you know that” you whispered 

“Because I’m here, dusting with you, I can touch you and trace every mark in your body, I have my own life, I would have that if you were dead, and if you were why would it just be a continuation of your day to day, why are you freaking out if this is heaven” he tried to explain and something must have worked because your body eased, eyes drawing from your hands to his face. 

“This is real?” your voice sounded weak, so lost in your mind as your eyes seemed to glaze over. 

“Yes,  love this is real” he hummed, finally being able to wipe the tears from your face, his touch drawing you back from the farthest depths of your brain that you kept spiraling into “Now let’s get you to bed” Reaching past you he grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste, preparing it for you to brush your teeth. You took your toothbrush from his hand as he leaned in and kissed your forehead lovingly, a tear slipping from his eye as he took in your defeated state, brushing it away before you could see and brushing his teeth as well. 

Moments later you fell into your bed, Tom’s arms wrapped securely around you as your back curved into his chest, you shook your head as you closed your eyes seeing everything you wished you could forget. 

“Tommy, I feel so lost in my brain, its like its yelling and every new thought just adds to the noise, continuing to bounce around with everyone else” You whispered as you shuttered. 

“I know it's not okay, my love, but I am here and I will be here, I will help you come back” he kissed your temple and held you as you fell asleep. He vowed to himself that he would be there for you, he would never let you go, give you a life that distanced yourself from that pain that haunted you. He would remind you everyday that you are alive. 

[hello-nichya-here]

Unpopular opinion: The most tragic character of atla isn't Azula, it's Jet and innocent people who suffered from war

Azula takes the second place to me. Jet didn’t have to die at all. Sure, he was a delusional, vengeful terrorist. But he also helped refugees get proper meal and other civilians not from the fire Nation, like his actual teammates. And in the end, he got better and helped the gaang find Appa without whom the war would have been won by the Fire Nation.

It would have been more interesting to see him learn and gradually let go of his blind hatred for all the fire Nation people and help the gaang save the world by actually evacuating/saving those whom he once tried to kill. It goes without saying that Jet and Zuko are parallels. It’s a shame they didn’t get to reconcile and become friends, they worked well together.

I’m so tired of this stupid, overused trope “death = redemption”. And the worst part is, we hear little to nothing about what happened to Jet or the freedom fighters afterwards. The comics gave very little info about them and they’re not even once mentioned in TLoK (as well as like half the characters from atla). We didn’t get to see his grave or anyone visiting it or anyone talking to the remaining freedom fighters about how their life changed after his death. Seriously, it must have been tough for them to move on after losing their reliable leader and big bro. No children should ever have to bury their loved ones. But the freedom fighters did.

And I bet he didn’t go to the spirit world either because he wasn’t exactly the most spiritual person. He’s just dead. Maybe reincarnated. But, of course, we’re not going to find out if that’s true. Not only did his life end shortly without getting to grow and seeing the world without war, but his death was probably also agonizing. If I remember correctly, he got struck in the abdomen by a massive rock by Long Feng so hard, he couldn’t move anymore. So he could have gotten broken ribs, a rupture of internal organs and hence internal bleeding. Either way, that was a fatal blow and I’m surprised he wasn’t screaming in pain. Oh right it’s a kids’ show.

When he told Katara to not heal him and go for Appa instead, I was like “What are you saying??? Someone shut him up and heal him”. And then that last smile he gave Katara so she wouldn’t worry about him… His life was tragic enough as it was; losing his parents, seeing his own village and the people he knew burn, living on the streets, having to steal just to survive, probably getting his ass beat for it, you name it. He had to be on his own without anyone telling him what he was doing was wrong. But apparently that wasn’t enough for the writers. And some other people too who actually demonize him smh.

But seriously if anyone can explain how his death is a narratively good writing/storytelling, I’ll gladly listen. What do you think about it, Nichya?

***

In my eyes, Jet’s return only happened because the writers knew he was a popular character, and then his death was the consequences of them not wanting to actually write a proper arc for a character they never wanted to have around for more than one episode. Jet dying had no meaning, it was just the writers going “There! We brought him back for a little while! Now forget about him because we’re NOT doing that again! He’s dead! He’s gone! He was supposed to be gone long ago!” 

And yeah, Redemption = Death always felt like a major cop-out for me, and in Jet’s case is even worse since the show only ever brings up the bad things he did, but never how he was actively trying to change and died because he wanted to help the Gaang.

I don’t know if he is the most tragic character or the one who suffered “the most” since that’s pretty much impossible to mesure, but he deserved better.

Also, if I hear one more dumbass saying he was “killed by his own prejudice” like the Dai Li didn’t kidnap him for letting people know there was a war going on, brainwashed him to try and get rid of the Gaang, and then killed him when he tried to take them down, I’m going to scream. 

[hyetiny]

c// fem!reader, superhero reader, villain yeosang, lowkey enemies to fwb, top yeo, bottom reader, bodily scars + showing them to each other, mentions of violence, clubbing, drinking, dry humping, oral (f receiving), knifeplay, pain kink, choking, degradation, dirty talk, protected sex, yeo monster cock

please read the tags carefully, this may not be for everyone!

this is the longest thing i've ever written omfg. also i’m really proud of this, please don’t let it flop :’D

kang yeosang was the root of everything wrong in your life, you had decided.

he was like the annoying fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing around your ear on a hot summer’s day. no matter how many times you were certain that you had vanquished the city of the blight that was yeosang, the supervillain managed to come back unnoticed.

at this point, you were convincing yourself it was impossible to cease him from causing trouble. on shitty nights like this, you went down to the discreet nightclub, hidden away in a dark alleyway. whether you needed a good drink or a good fuck, the club was always there to provide.

“the usual?” the familiar bartender yunho asks, taking in your frustrated expression and slumped shoulders that he sees far too often. 

“yep, a slouchy susan.” you roll your eyes at the corny names yunho would come up with, your mind wandering to the silly names he must have had for the other patrons. it was always comforting to have a chat with the friendly bartender after a hard day - plus, you couldn’t deny he was absolute eye candy. 

“top it off, please.” you shift your glass back to him after downing it.

“put it on my tab, yuyu”. a familiar, deep voice comes from next to you.

you turn to see yet another unbelievably attractive man. he has blonde hair that grows just past his neck, his natural black roots starting to show through. from where you’re sitting on your rickety stool, you pick up on the hint of cologne that lingers on him. you’ve never seen him before, yet something about him seems eerily familiar, like you’ve seen him in a dream.

you shake off the feeling, instead deciding to chat him up.

“yuyu?” you giggle at his affectionate nickname for the barkeep.

“we go way back, it’s what his mother would call him when she’d drop him off to school. i guess it stuck”. the man smiles at you, visibly taking in your features and not breaking eye contact with you.

you’re taken aback by him, your heart thumping unusually fast for some reason.

“stop embarrassing me, yeo-”

the man clears his throat loudly. you must have missed something, because yunho immediately goes quiet and wordlessly hands your drinks - your “slouchy susan” and a whiskey for the man.

“so if he’s yuyu, what are you?” you ask him.

“you can call me ryusang.” he says.

“y/n”. 

the two of you lapse into easy conversation. you giggle at his lame jokes, and he does the same. you find common interests, funny anecdotes, blissfully letting the stresses of the day slip away with each word of the attractive ryusang.

soon enough, the dance floor grows crowded and the music gets louder.

“dance with me?” ryusang stands up, offering a hand. you take it gratefully, letting him drag you to the dance floor. it’s a mess of sweaty bodies, but you don’t care as you become part of it with ryusang. his hands find your hips, and you’re both falling into an easy rhythm, completely in sync with the trap music blasting from the speakers.

as expected, the space between you gradually gets smaller and smaller, until it’s practically non-existent. you’re shamelessly grinding against each other, joining the litany of couples who are completely up against each other. you pretend not to pay any mind to his noticeably growing bulge, instead deciding to tease him a bit by intentionally grinding up harder against him. this night was going right where you wanted it to.

“my place is near here.” he whispers right into your ear, making you shiver underneath him.

“then we’d better get out of here quickly, hm?” you say in response.

since you had both been drinking, you decide to take a cab to his place. the sexual tension is rife in the air. you deliberately, teasingly lay a hand on his thigh, oh so close to his crotch, his face glowing red as it clearly riles him up.

when you get up the flight of stairs up to his apartment, and he fumbles with the key for what feels like minutes, you’re all over each other. the first kiss you share is nothing but messy - all teeth and tongue, nothing but complete lust for one another. he’s gently guiding you towards his room, until your legs hit his mattress. you break the kiss, only for him to gently lay you down, straddle you, and get right back to sloppily kissing you.

he undoes the buttons of your blouse without breaking the kiss, impressively with one hand. he breaks the kiss once again to take in the sight of your newly exposed skin. his eyes engulf the expanse of scars on your skin, some older and some looking to be very much recent.

“who did this to you?” he whispers in what seems to be a mixture of awe and anger. hesitantly, he runs a finger across a thin line that spans from your lower belly to your ribcage.

“you did, yeosang.” you say, deadpan.

he pauses, his heart dropping to his stomach.  “excuse me?”

“did you think you were fooling me? seriously, why didn’t you pick a less obvious fake name?” you giggle. despite the vulnerable position you’re in, you clearly hold the upper hand, indulging in his shocked expression. you hadn't missed the bartender's obvious slip up of yeosang's name, and could never forget that deep voice of his that would always taunt you.

“you’re always screwing me over y/n. i didn’t think we’d end up like this”. he says as a smooth recovery.

you roll your eyes. “remember when you gave me this?” you tap at the scar. he shakes his head.

“two years ago. you were trying to get rid of all power in the city. i almost stopped you, so you pegged a knife right here.” 

“if i was trying to kill you, the knife would’ve stuck.” he says defensively. “you got away with a scratch, only because i wanted that.”

“well, thanks for not trying to kill me, kang yeosang. i’m flattered.” you say sarcastically. 

“well, you gave me something worse.” he strips himself of his shirt. to no surprise, his skin is similar to yours. a canvas for an array of marks and scars, most of which you recognize to be your own work.

you point to an especially long one on his collarbone. “that one was definitely me.”

“yeah, and it hurt like a bitch.” he says snarkily.

“well, now we’re both half naked.”

“nice catch.”

“well for convenience’s sake, we may as well get back to-”

his lips are on yours again, effectively shutting you up. you don’t protest - besides, it’s hard to when his tongue is in your mouth. 

what you don’t expect is the cold press of something against your throat, which then trails down to your collarbones. it isn’t pleasant, but not uncomfortable either. it’s sharp against your skin, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

yeosang begins to press open mouthed kisses against your skin, alongside what you now see is a familiar knife in his hand. you begin to feel more vulnerable underneath him, knowing he had complete power over you. yet somehow, you don’t feel afraid of the man who has your life in his hands.

he undoes your jeans, letting out a low whistle at the damp spot forming against your panties. the flat side of the blade presses against your clothed core, earning a whine for him.

"fucking touch me already". you say through gritted teeth, despising that your mortal enemy has you so needy for him.

"am i not already touching you?" he says with a shit eating smirk. fuck him, you think. but that was exactly what you wanted to do.

to your surprise, you hear the sound of fabric ripping, and a sudden cold against your core, as though-

"i liked those." you say frustratedly, finding yeosang pulling away the ripped remnants of your panties away from your core.

"you look far better without them." is all he says before licking an experimental stripe up your already wet hole, earning a breathy moan from you. you don't have it in you to be mouthy when his tongue continues to tease your labia, eventually meeting your clit in what is the most heavenly thing you've ever felt. all thoughts of how much you hate the man currently eating you out are out the window as the pad of his finger presses against your clit, his tongue messily lapping at your hole as if he was just licking for his pleasure rather than yours.

your hips subconsciously grind up in tandem with his tongue, earning small moans from him as well.

"so fucking wet. do you usually get this wet this quickly, or are you just that much of a slut for me?" he chuckles.

it takes every ounce of self control not to flick him on the forehead. the degrading name catches you off guard, yet somehow it makes your hole clench needily. besides, you want what's hidden under the confines of his black jeans far too much to be mean to him right now.

"just... just fill me up, yeosang."

"i like you like this." he says with a cocky smile. it gives you butterflies, even though you know it means nothing more than just a spur of the moment thought. "beg for me a little more, and i'll think about it."

oh, the urge to punch him in the face.

"fuck you."

"that's the plan."

you sigh in frustration. "kang yeosang, my mortal enemy, fill me up with your monster fucking cock until i can't think straight." you say sarcastically.

surprisingly, it's enough for him. it seems you weren't wrong when you said "monster cock" his cock far thicker and longer than any cock you had taken recently. or in general, for that matter.

he must notice the way you gape at it, giggling to himself.

"cond-" you start, but he cuts you off by leaning over to his bedside drawer.

he shuffles around before he finds what he's looking for, sliding on the first condom he finds and coating himself in lube for good measure.

"ready? are you okay?" he asks, lining himself up against your entrance.

you want to roll your eyes, but you know he's just looking out for you. you give him a nod, and it's all it takes for him to push, breaching your wet hole and filling you up perfectly. you can't stop the high whine that leaves your lips. it's embarrassing, but yeosang seems to enjoy it, groaning into your ear.

"you're so fucking tight. expected you to be all stretched out like the whore you are." he whispers into your ear, embarrassingly only making you clench more around him.

you barely need to adjust, needing nothing more than for him to ruin you. his hips set a steady pace, grinding oh so perfectly against you. the tip of his cock perfectly reaches that sweet spot inside you, earning a louder moan for him. you'd be embarrassed with what his neighbours must be hearing, but it's the last thing on your mind when you have such a perfect cock stretching you out.

"fuck, my perfect slut. so nice and tight around my cock, huh? it's like this pussy was made to take my cock." he growls, his thrusts only getting harder and sloppier the closer he gets to his high.

"o-only for you." you cry out, gasping as he fills you up impossibly deep, over and over again. the coil building up in your stomach only gets tighter when his fingers find your clit.

the breaking point is when his lips meet your collarbone, leaving more kisses and tiny bites here and there. the sensations all over are too much for you. you cry out when your orgasm hits you harder than ever before, leaving you breathless. your orgasm triggers his as well, indicated by the long, pleasured groan he lets out.

you can't do anything but catch your breath as he pulls out, taking off the condom, tying it up and throwing it away in the bin next to his bed.

"who knew that all it took was a good fuck to get you weak for me?" yeosang breaks the silence.

"shut up." you say weakly, still too breathless to properly argue back.

"maybe i will, if you make me."

needless to say, he keeps you up for a few more hours until you both fall asleep, the first rays of the sunrise peeking through the blinds of his window.

the next morning, you wake up groggy and exhausted, the drinks and activities from last night finally catching up to your body. to your disappointment, yeosang isn't there next to you, the other side of the bed empty.

of course, the asshole didn't have the decency to wait for you to wake up. reaching out for your phone, you find to your surprise that there's a sticky note on it.

“last night was fun, we should do it again. i've gone out to wreak havoc, so i know our paths will cross again soon anyway.” - your mortal enemy, kang yeosang <3

[samstree]

and baby makes four (or five)

(mpreg, pre-relationship geraskier, mutual pining, pregnant jaskier, vague mpreg setting, roach is also mom, baby horse, horse trivia, 1.5k, read on ao3) 

Jaskier pets the newborn foal’s still-damp mane and grins to himself. The tiny horse—Little Roachie, he decides—is laying on the ground, surrounded by soft hay and dozing peacefully. He deserves it after the ordeal—well, Jaskier believes it counts as one. The foaling almost gave him heart palpitations, but Geralt says everything went just as planned and both Roach and the baby are safe and sound.

And they are, finally, when the entire day has passed and the moon is high in the sky.

The witcher himself is feeding the mare their last apple. If the doting was bad before, it has definitely gotten worse since she became a mom. It’s not like anyone could fault Geralt, Jaskier reckons. Although the sight of the almighty White Wolf indulging his horse is way too precious, not that Jaskier will ever say it to his face. As much as he loves to see Geralt embarrassed, it might be unwise to upset his friend and get left in the middle of this backwater town in his current conditions.

Jaskier cradles the bump that is his stomach and feels his baby peacefully asleep too. Despite the barn being floored with thick hay, the sitting position is growing uncomfortable with everything weighing down on his midriff, and it won’t be long until his back starts aching again.

The foal jerks in his sleep, and Jaskier completely forgets about himself.

“Shh, it’s all right. Just sleep, darling. You must really need it if you’re so tiny. Look at how tiny you are.” His hand travels down to its leg and then the hoof. The hoof wall feels soft, or at least, less hard than what one would imagine for an adult horse. A soft gasp escapes his lips as his fingers reach the bottom. “Oh, Geralt! Come and see!”

The witcher hums absently as Jaskier picks out the straws and dirt obscuring his view and cradles the newborn foal’s hoof in his palm. There’s a layer of padding covering the sole. It’s … kind of spongy, and moist to the touch.

“Fascinating,” Jaskier muses as he pokes and prods the soft tissue, amazed at the weird texture and irregular shapes. When he looks up, Geralt is crouched beside him, leaving Roach to chew on the last of her treat.

“Newborns have those,” he explains.

“Will it hurt him when I touch it?”

“I don’t think so.” Geralt’s gaze falls on the small baby, the corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. “The cushions develop during the last term of pregnancy. It protects the mother from all the kicking, and later during the birth. They’ll wear off as soon as he learns to stand.”

“Wow,” Jaskier croons at the foal, “you are such a gentle baby, aren’t you? Know to protect your mum, huh?”

His arm tightens around his own expanding waistline. The bump has gotten so big in the last few weeks Jaskier still gets taken aback every time he walks in front of a mirror. Looking down on it, the worry that’s been churning in his stomach resurfaces, the dread rising inexplicably. Jaskier hates to admit it, but he’s so, so nervous about what comes after. Sure, he looks forward to meeting his child, but just the thought of pushing a person out of his body is enough to send a shudder down his spine.

Jaskier chews on his lips. The silence hangs in the barn.

It’s Geralt who breaks it first. He sits down next to Jaskier gradually and crosses his legs, making sure the sleeping foal is still in sight.

“All babies are as gentle, Jaskier.” Golden amber eyes meet Jaskier’s, and they are filled with warmth and unvoiced understanding. “You never needed to worry for Roach.”

“But anything could have happened. She’s never had a baby before and we didn’t even notice for so long. The whole thing just … came out of nowhere. If something had gone wrong—”

“Nothing did,” Geralt says, more firmly this time. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to her. I was here to make sure of it.”

Looking at the sincerity on the witcher’s face, Jaskier knows neither of them is talking about Roach anymore, and he can’t resist the upturn of his lips. It is true that Geralt did everything he could for Roach, setting her up at this farm and making sure she’ll be cared for after. Even when the mare got anxious the past two days, Geralt has been nothing but patient with her.

“Besides,” Geralt adds, tilting his head, “She’s strong. She can get through anything for her baby.”

A lump suddenly forms in Jaskier’s throat. His eyes prickle but he won’t let the tears fall. Not again. Even pregnant, it would be too mortifying for him to cry for what must be the one-hundredth time this week, and he won’t let Geralt make fun—

A kick lands on his bladder and oh boy it hurts. Jaskier chokes out a breath and curls into himself. “It seems—ahh, this one is bad—it seems that my baby could use some tips from Little Roachie here.”

“You can’t compare human babies to horses, Jask,” Geralt chuckles but rests his hand over the top of the bump and starts rubbing little circles, soothing the tiny but anxious person within. As always, it does the trick and the kicking gradually calms down. Jaskier isn’t sure if he should be jealous of this apparent superpower of Geralt’s or just glad he’s here. “Also, Little Roachie? Really?”

The warmth of Geralt’s palm is nice, seeping through the thin tunic and into Jaskier’s taut skin underneath. It takes a second for him to respond, “Are you not naming him Roach?”

“Why would I name him Roach?”

“Because you name all your horses Roach?”

“But, Jask, he’s Roach’s baby. It’ll be confusing.”

Jaskier blinks, incredulous.

“That,” he pauses, “is confusing?”

“Yes,” Geralt answers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Six mares in a row having the same name was never a problem, but mother and son is where you draw the line.” Jaskier shakes his head. “Well, I’m glad there is a line somewhere.”

Jaskier lets out a string of giggles, bending backward and almost hitting the wall. When he finally ceases to find the witcher’s logic so amusing, Roach herself has sauntered near them. She’s probably heard her name and also wants in on all the fun.

The mare reaches down and headbutts Jaskier on his chest, almost touching his stomach. Geralt grows tense and ready to block her. It’d be sweet of him if the overprotectiveness isn’t so unnecessary.

“Oh, relax! Roach and I are the bestest of friends now.” Her muzzle touches Jaskier’s palm. “Motherhood has softened her. Look!”

“Hmm.”

He coos to Roach for a while until her attention returns to the once again unnamed foal. Jaskier finds himself completely knackered and ready to turn in. He yawns just in time.

“What a day, huh? Well, I don’t know about you but I could fall asleep in the next five minutes.”

“Oh.”

Geralt stands first to pull Jaskier up with steady hands, the movement so effortless it even makes Jaskier feel less bloated and sluggish.

“Will you—” Jaskier adjusts the hem of his tunic. “Will you stay with me? Like yesterday. It’s—I, um, I’ve been having trouble with all the kicking, as you know, and last night was the first time I got any rest in weeks.”

Geralt stares, his golden amber blown wide.

“You don’t have to, I mean,” Jaskier adds too quickly. “You help. Like just now, and you’ve been helping me for the past few months, even with everything going on with Roach. I don’t want to burden you further, but I just … I think the baby likes it a little better when you are there.”

And Jaskier likes it a lot better.

That part he can’t say though.

“Of course,” Geralt says, and a weight Jaskier didn’t know was carrying lifts off of his chest. “If it’s more comfortable for you.”

“Right. It is.”

“And, Jask … I know I might be overstepping. The baby is only yours after all.” Geralt swallows nervously, if witchers can get nervous talking to a simple bard. A simple bard who never expected to be pregnant and is terrified. “But if you need me, I can stay with you. Through everything, this … and after, as long as you need me.”

The lump returns. Jaskier meets Geralt’s gaze in earnest and all he can see is the devotion, the safety. Because that’s what Geralt is, his best friend and protector. The world may disagree, but Jaskier knows better from walking by his side for so many years, from never having been abandoned despite all the threats. He knows from the way Geralt leads him back inside with a hand on the small of his back and a smile in those amber eyes.

When the baby moves again, Jaskier can’t wait to drag Geralt’s hand over his stomach. Geralt looks awestruck, like he’s watching a miracle unfold before his eyes when it’s no more than a little person reacting to his touch.

“I think,” Jaskier says. “I think we’ll be just fine.”

“Of course. Both of you will.”

And for the first time, Jaskier might start believing it.

---

I leaned that thing about baby horsies in this youtube video. Please feel free to correct me if I got some facts wrong. I love horse trivia! <3 

[dazz-linglight]

INCEPTION

Pairing: Werewolf!San x Werewolf!Reader

(should I make this a series?)

Genre: AU Fluff/Smut

Every werewolf knew that when they completed 18 they were ready to find their respective mates. Mates are made for each other, chosen by the Moon to be their permanent love. San was already 21 and had yet to find his and thinks about her everyday, asking the goddess to bring his mate soon and his wish was finally granted on his first day of the second year in college. He was just walking in when a sudden new scent caught him off guard. A strong, sweet and powerful scent in its ability to tug at something deep and primal within him giving urges he had never truly felt until this moment.

You were walking through the campus with a friend when he got hit by the strong scent of cinnamon and coffee coming from you, making him dizzy and euphoric, his heart beating faster and even faster when your eyes met his. He couldn't contain the big smile that occupied his lips, instantly being full of love while you went through the same, falling hard for him and leaving your friend to follow the path until the two of you were just centimeters apart. His scent of honey embraced you all over when he reached to touch your face, wanting to know if you were real or if he was dreaming again.

"My Luna.." When you smiled at the nickname he wanted nothing more than to kiss you and he did exactly that, smooching your cheeks first and then going to your lips, hugging you by the waist while you brought him closer by the shoulders, getting on the tip of your toes to match his height. You separate after a minute to recover the air, keeping close to each other.

"Choi San." He finally presented himself.

"Ah.. I'm ________" You said laughing softly until remembering where you were. "Oh, I have to go to class! Here, give me your number.." You took out your phone and gave it to him, he immediately typed the number and saved it as My Sannie ❤️, soon giving it back to you.

"Can I take you there?" He asked biting his lower lip.

"No, you have class too, I don't want to make you get late. We can get lunch together?"

"Yes! Okay, then you better go, then I can see you sooner." He said pulling your hand to his lips, leaving a cute kiss on your skin and then letting you go.

"See you soon, San!" You said waving at him and going back to your friend, also a werewolf, who was closer watching the whole thing. The two of you went to into the Business building, telling her everything you felt finding your mate.

|••••••••••••••••••••|

During class, San had saved your contact as My Mate ❤️ and sent messages to you, starting a game of questions to get to know you better and you got to know about him too, going back and forth with preferences, dislikes, food, family and friends and so on. At the end of classes, San told his friends and the alpha that he finally found his mate and they were happy for him, a few of them already found their mates and some of them not. On their way out of the campus, San kept looking around trying to find you but you found him first, coming from behind and covering his eyes and he smiled turning around to see you.

"Guys, this is my mate, _____." He said looking at his brothers proudly then back at you, burying his face on your neck to rub his scent on you and you waved at them.

"Hi.." You stand on his side to get a better look at his brothers, still holding San's hand and one of them laughed at San who hasn't stopped looking at you with his gold eyes.

"This is our Alpha Hongjoong, the taller ones are Yunho and Mingi, Seonghwa, Yeosang, Wooyoung and our youngest Jongho." The one who laughed was Wooyoung.

"It's funny to see hyung so whipped." Wooyoung was one of the the boys that didn't meet his mate yet, so he found funny how mates seemed hypnotized by each other.

"I bet you will be worse when you meet your mate, Wooyoung." Hongjoong said laughing at the thought, knowing Wooyoung was already clingy with the members of the pack and everybody agreed. You were happy to see that everyone in San's pack had a light spirit and good sense of humor.

"Well, let's eat? I'm starving." The youngest said between them.

"Chicken!" Yeosang smelled chicken from afar and started walking in front of them. San squeezed your hand and led you inside the restaurant.

|•••••••••••••••|

Finishing lunch you pulled at the hem of San's shirt to get his attention and he immediately looked at you, passing a hand on your shoulder and bringing you to peck your cheek.

"San, will you come home with me?" You asked him quietly, wanting to have time alone with your new found mate, which quickly accepted.

"Guys, we'll be going first." San told them already getting up from his seat and pulling your bag on his shoulder, you following after saying your byes.

"Don't forget to use protection!" Yunho said before you two were far, receiving a slap from Hongjoong and making the others snicker.

San drove you to the other side of the city where your pack belong, holding your hand while you guided him. Your fellow friends were surprised to see you with company, but were quick noticed it was your mate by the way he held you and the cute smile on your faces. Getting inside the house, the two of you left shoes and bags at the door while your inner wolf was screaming for you to pounce on him.

"We have the next 3 or 4 hours to ourselves before the girls come back.. I want to confess something before we go to my room." You said nervously picking on your fingers and San frowned, petting your hair to try and calm you down.

"You can tell me anything, baby" You lay your hands on his chest looking up to his brown eyes.

"I have plushies in my bed.." You broke eye contact to look at his broad shoulders not for long until he held your chin up to look at him again.

"No need to be ashamed for that. Wanna know why?" You nodded at his questions and he brought his face closer to your neck, whispering the next words.

"I have plushies too." He smiled looking back at your surprised face.

"Really?"

"Really, I'll show them to you anytime or even bring them here so they can be friends." He showed his dimples and you smiled too, touching his cheeks with the tip of your fingers, happy to be surrounded by his warmth.

"I'm so glad that you're here.."

"Me too, I've been waiting for so long to find you." He rested his forehead on yours and closed his eyes.

"Please mark me.." You voiced your desire before being able to control your words, your inner wolf excited to finally get into action while San's wolf was also happy to oblige to his instincts, bringing you up to wrap your legs on his waist and followed your scent around the house to find your room. He placed you down in the middle of your bed and you pulled him for a heavy kiss, trying to cease any little distance and soon San was leaning down to kiss and bite your neck, all the clothes coming off one by one until you were both naked and exposed.

"You look so perfect, love.." San kissed down your throat, collarbones, chest and everywhere he could till reaching your core, inhaling your arousal and held your thighs apart, connecting his lips onto you. Every bit of self control he had until now we're thrown out the window as he eats you out, driven by your wetness, moans and the way you pulled on his hair so deliciously. His tongue moved fast and strong, giving you waves of pleasure and he felt delighted for making you feel good. You were almost there and tapped on his shoulder, making him look up.

"San please.. I want to cum with you.." Your legs twitched and he stopped, sitting up and lifted a hand to clean his lips, licking the wetness on his fingers at the same time he stroked his hard on, getting closer to you once more and positioning you in dog style and making himself comfortable behind you on your center. He pushed in slowly to not hurt you and when he finally got it in you listened to the deep growl coming from his chest as he bottomed out and soon his pace speeding up gradually, making you get louder and louder.

"Can I?" He whispered nuzzling under your ear and you knew he was talking about the mark, wanting to hear you say it again.

"Yes, make me yours." He let out a low groan, brushing your hair out of the way and planting his fangs in the space between your shoulder and neck, creating the mark only mates could to seal the bond. It gave you both a rush of adrenaline and happiness that caused you goosebumps, your scents getting mixed in the air, sharing the warmth and fondness of each other and it made you cum faster, squirming under his hold for a few seconds as he continued to thrust in and out until he reached his own climax, knotting you and having the two of you stuck together for the next minutes.Soon he laid you down in a spoon position and pulled you in for a kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"This is the best day of my life." He giggled a little breathless, his chest shaking against your back you smile at the feeling, scooting impossibly closer to him.

"I can't believe you're real."

"I'm very real." He squeezed your hip and you hide your face on your pillow with a laugh.

"Do you to go for a run later?" You asked curious to see his wolf form.

"Oh yeah, I bet you're the prettiest wolf ever."

"I bet it's you." You bicker playfully and San covers your face in kisses, tickling your sides.

[onestepbackwards]

Ace Anon

So yeah I tell him practically everything because of how we get closer But even worse for Ingo is that I gradually get more used to touching him. Like At first I would ask him but now I'll just touch him anytime I feel like it (Genuinely forget to ask) And only ever really back off whenever He physically/Verbally responds back. ( Me going oh crap sorry should have asked first)

I wouldn't say that I am entirely touch starved but I haven't seen my family in a long time and they don't really really like me Clinging on to them. ( They called it really weird. And yeah I would probably find it really weird if somebody was doing that to me. But like even ace runs)

I imagine one of the first times going like 

You but me: Ingo may I borrow your hand for a bit?

Ingo: uhhh sure?

You: [ You grab Grab his hand and you start inspecting it (Some would say that you're playing with it) You spread and contort his fingers without any of his input bending them to your whim as you Try to commit every single fold and Scar to memory. You note the feeling of his skin And how different it feels from the skin of your Family]

Ingo: W-

You [you look up at him and see the red starting once again And you pull away]

You: Crap sorry thank you. [leaves]

_________

Another day further down the line.

You: Hey Ingo would you mind if I just [gestures to all of him]

Ingo: pr-Permission granted (oh)

You: [Straight up drapes Yourself onto his back.  You start focusing on his clothes Fabric and how it feels under your fingers As you begin to relax And your heartbeat slows.] 

Ingo: [tries Adjust  to just to a better position]

You: [think that he's trying to discreetly tell you to get off of him]

you : Oops sorry I'll get off. [leaves]

Ingo subconsciously: (I will never move again)

________

Yet another day

You: [See ingo lying on your bed awake reading]

You: Incoming!!

Ingo slams into Focus: H-

You: [Dives over on top of him Crashing into the divider stuffed animals and stays there]

Ingo: [in shock due to the raw suddenness of such action] What

You: [Continues to crawl over to your side of the bed] Lol

jffjsajkjfkdajd that’s cute. I’m similar. I hate being touched unless i’m very close to the person in question. So you slowly warming up to him is relatable Though since I know of Ingo already, it probably wouldn’t take me long to warm up to him. I would probably hug him and cling to him a lot, if he’d let me lmao