#not to be feral but their hand size difference has me SICK

[scarringstars]

BELLAMY BLAKE APPRECIATION WEEK 2025 day seven ► free choice ► bellarke

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Eden

tw: nsfw, female reader, non - con, degradation, hinted captivity, obsessive behavior, size difference

You fight him, goddamit, that's the worst part - you always try to fight him with all you've got, with sharp nails and smooth teeth, with your hands, your knees, with the closest pillow (since he rarely lets you touch anything with a proper egde). You give it your best - your hardest, you scratch and bite like a wild animal, getting your tears and saliva everywhere and yet... all your efforts only seem to amuse him.

"This is all you've got, princess?" He taunts as he holds you down with one hand (albeit, probably bigger than your head) while the other strips you bare with ease. "C'mon, you should make it more difficult for me. It's no fun when you just lay there and take it." He chuckles as you squirm in his hold - and the sound fills you with suffocating cold dread. Like a particularly nasty, sticky cough it sinks to your chest, making it hard to breathe through the fury and shame.

You get even more feral, thrashing and kicking without order or direction - desperate to show him that you're not a meek victim, that you are not going down without a fight. But it's all pointless - you barely move an inch as he roughly spreads your naked legs, pushing you to your back with eyes full of malice - induced lust and drunken need for violence.

"It's like you're not even trying." His hot breath tickles your ear, forcing your baby hairs to stand prickly. The overwhelming smell of strong cologne, unmistakenly masculine, makes you even more lightheaded and scared with unevitable anticipation. "It's like you actually want me." He whispers darkly, gripping your waist painfully with both hands. "Is that so, baby? You want the big bad wolf to mount you down and take you?" He bites your neck playfully, but the ache is deep and throbbing within you. "Violate you?"

You shake your head rapidly, holding back scorching hot tears. No, no, you try to scream, but the lump in your throat is so heavy it prevents any sound from coming out.

"I know, baby, I know." Eden caresses your wet cheeks almost tenderly - if not for the scratches his claws leave behind on your soft skin. "I'm just messin' with you." The hunter rasps, fingers entangled deep into your locks. "I know you don't want any of this. Not my touch-" He lets go of your hair. "or my lips-" He kisses along your jawline, hungrily lapping at the salty tear stains. "And certainly not my big, throbbing cock up your tight little pussy." He gloats, lining up his shaft with your entrance. "But you are still going to take it, won't you?"

He stares at you intently, as if waiting for you to say something.

"Won't you, princess?" The man slaps you, voice a tad more irritated now. You quickly nod, terrified to your shaking bones - and only then does he smile again, sweetly. "Of course you will." He goes back to stroking your hair as he starts to slowly force his length into your unwilling, quivering quim.

"Because that's just how the world works, no? Pathetic little sluts get fucked by big, strong men like me. They get fucked over and over again until their poor little brains turn to mush. Don't they?" He chuckles with clear condescension as he finally begins to thrust int you - making sure his cock is all the way in before he pulls out and brutally shoves it again. Sick glee fills his scarred face as he watches your womb strain to accommodate the pulsing force brushing against your lower belly from the inside. This time you nod weakly before he has a reason to strike you.

"Such a good girl, accepting her place underneath me." Eden groans, growing flushed as he feels your walls squeeze against his intrusive thrusts. "You know this is all you're good for anyways. Just a warm hole and a pretty face for me to ruin." He gropes your breasts crudely, pinching your nipples with his fingertips. "Just look at you... what a wet little mess you are. It's like your body is begging for it - even if those treacherous lips deny the truth. You should be thanking me. If I wasn't claiming this sweet-" He makes a point to slam right into your most sensitive spot, making your toes curl despite your protests. "tight heat of yours, you'd be dead meat already. Just a chew toy for the wolves."

You make an uncomprehensible sound as the pain dulls and gives way to damp, humiliating pleasure. You bite your tongue to muffle the moans, but this only stirs him further - taking it as a challenge to make you sing for him. He keeps fucking into you, dragging you up and down like a feather.

"You're lucky I love you so much." The hunter sighs, voice softening to a whisper. "You're lucky I like it when you cry for me." He reaches to wipe away a falling tear. "So you better thank me, princess." He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. Burning hot flames greet you, but all you feel is ice.

"Thank you, Eden."

[sweet-as-an-angel]

I just got this idea and I trust your writing the most, I was wondering if you could write ,unless you already wrote this, where the reader steals König or ghost masks or anyone else and their reaction (nsfw or sfw is fine), thank you have a great day :))

König & Ghost's Reaction to their S/O Stealing their Mask

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Dominant Ghost, Dominant König, Territorial Military Men <3, Minor Spoilers of Ghost's Past, Mention of a Size Kink, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You.

König

Since he's absolutely massive, the ends of his sniper veil literally reach the bottom of your ribcage.

So when König sees you wear it for the first time, he's absolutely F L O O R E D

We don't call him Size Kink König for no reason.

Goes absolutely feral when he sees you draped in his veil.

Can barely keep his hands off you.

"Maus," he husks, fingers twitching as he reaches for you slowly, cautiously, offering you the chance to go with him willingly.

"You don't know what you're doing to me."

Even without the veil, his eyes are dark, a blackness settling over them that, somewhere in your mind, your intuition, has you seeing red.

Regardless of how innocent your intent when acquiring the mask, none of that matters now.

All that does is the growing bulge in König's pants, the shortness of his breath, and his shadow settling over you as he advances on your path.

"You'll be needing that mask more than I will after I'm done with you."

And when you dare to ask "Why ?" now entrapped – eclipsed – by his frame, he just smiles, thin and sharp. Cruel.

He takes you in his arms, pulling you to him, your face almost crushed into his chest.

He laughs. A low rumble – the promise of a natural disaster.

His nose is to yours covered by the veil, a condescending gesture of his prowess and your submission. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Because everyone will get a free show to the fallout of an evening you’ve roped yourself into."

As if to prove his point, his hands are at your wrists before you even notice the pressure he's applying there, binding you, pulling you ever closer to him. And in that second, you know you're not leaving your little stunt – the night – unscathed.

Ghost

Hoo boy.

Okay, it's no secret to anyone who knows Ghost – really knows him – that he's suffered a lot of hardship throughout his life, hencewhy he is the way he is.

Which others may construe as cold, heartless – even soulless.

But that's only because Simon has lost so much.

So when he comes home to find you in one of his masks, smiling up at him (he can tell by the way your eyes crinkle), he's immediately whipped.

And I mean W H I P P E D.

To see the one person he can truly call his own wearing his gear is something he didn't know he needed until now.

Sure, he's seen you in his shirts, but this felt different. More intimate.

Your face was where his usually was, his spectral imprint practically morphed with the contours of your face.

Though it needn't be mentioned, he has a hard time... containing himself.

"Fuuuck me, Darlin'," he rasps, on you like a sickness as he sits on top of you, pinning you to the sofa by your waist.

"Y'look better in that than I do."

And you smile. Something intentional hidden within.

"Hmm... I doubt that." You can feel Simon's body heat rocketing beneath his clothes.

"You know I can't resist you when you wear it."

And that's all it takes to send him over the edge.

You hear his breath shake as he rolls into you ever so slightly, still restraining his whole weight to keep you intact. Something began to prod your abdomen.

"Oh, you're in for it now," he tells you. There is not a single hint of fallacy to his claim or his expression – one of barely stoic restraint.

"You won't be able to do much of anything by the time I'm through with you."

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[starbabyg]

Slaf is big everyone knows it so imagine him slowly inding out he he's a size kink. Just how good he feels wrapping himself ariund u orLike you're about to have sex and he notices how big his hands are against u or maybe it's the 1st time and u gotta ask him to go a little slower

The boy is big. Everybody knows it. No matter how tall you are, how thick, Juraj still towered over you and made you feel small. Which you loved. It took the first time hooking up for the two of you to realize just how big the size difference is.

You're already in your bra and panties, laid out on his bed, when Slaf is hovering above you. He looks at you with this hungry look, his thick brows furrowed as he bites his lip. Finally, he puts his hand on your hips, and his hands can almost touch. You're literally like a little fuck doll to him. No matter how big or tall you are, you feel so minute next to this boy. He literally tosses you and throws you around with such ease it's almost scary.

His hands are huge, which obvs means his fingers are rather large as well. The way he can split you open with a couple fingers is insane. One just opens you up so good, especially during your first time. He loves the way you wrap around his finger, so bad he can't help but put in another. That's when that lovely burning sensation of him stretching you open happens. If his fingers are more than enough to satisfy, imagine this boy's cock. Juraj has to prep you for his dick first. Always has to make you cum at least once so you're nice and slick for easy opening. If not, it hurts so fucking bad he feels empathetic.

"Go slow, go slow," you whine the first time. He only puts the head in, which is so mf thick omgggg it feels so good but fuck! Is it bigger than you'd expect. It has a girth to it, very much thick and definitely stretches you out more than you're used to. To help with the sting he softly rubs circles on your clit, his large thumb covers the whole bud. That makes it easier to take him, and he's so enamored by the sight of your tight cunt taking him.

"Ohhh you take me so good. Look at that," he's not really talking to you, he's talking to your pussy. His other hand is gripping your hips, he's holding you tighter than he thinks, little red fingerprints being imprinted into your soft skin. Although Juraj is so mf gorgeous, he hasn't much sexual experience under his belt. Plenty of girls have tried, but his dick is just too big for most honestly. He thinks you're a damn trooper for sucking it up and taking his whole length. Especially during your first hookup.

After the initial shock of this man's huge dick, you actually settle quite nice. You're definitely not gonna ride him until you've fucked him a few times, but now it's more pleasure than pain. Although let's face it, a little pain from his huge dick is hot. Juraj gets drunk off your pussy, how tight it's wrapped around him. It makes him almost feral, taking charge and pounding into you more roughly. Even though he promised to go nice and slow, all that goes out the window when he sees how you cream on him.

"Nice and tight, just for me huh," he grunts out with each thrust emphasizing his words. All you can do is squeal and moan, ditzy dumb from his strokes. Juraj chuckles when you can't even form a coherent sentence. He thinks it's so cute when you're just so fucked out. Makes him fuck you even harder, just to see how fuck drunk you can get. Maybe his goal is to fuck you so hard you almost pass out. It's like a sick switch goes off in his head, just to see how far he can make you go.

It truly is heavenly being fucked by him, looking up watching his angelic face with lust stricken in his eyes. It's like a different version of Juraj. Usually he's so sweet and kind, a gentle giant. But once it comes to fucking you, ohhhh is this boy a demon.

[ador3him]

Sooo if I just start dumping brain rots here, I hope you don't mind. I need a distraction from worrying over work and losing sleep. And I figured why not share the thoughts so you can feel free to elaborate!

I loved when ppl would do the dad!dream team head cannons. But here's me with my insanely dirty mind going, yeah all 3 of these boys def have breeding kinks. But I feel like it would manifest in different ways based off their personalities.

Dream:

- I feel like he is the type of bf to absolutely spoil tf outta his partner. He just wants to keep you happy and support you in achieving your dreams. He's so thankful to have you, constantly worrying he'll lose you. Definitely gives me the vibes he would propose quickly, like 3 yrs max into your relationship, bc of it. He KNEW you were HIS! Like possessive but in a good way (but more on that in a few)

- Definitely teases you every time you need to refill your birth control... Like you complain about having to call and refill the prescription and he just goes "Or you could just not😏" "Oh you wish," you roll your eyes in response.

- or if you have an IUD or implant and you need to get it replaced and you're freaking out about the pain. Of course he wouldn't want you to endure that! Luckily, he has a better alternative idea!

- dream is the type to absolutely go feral on your wedding night. Officially having you as HIS! Yes, youve been intimate before, but this is where his breeding kink really comes into play. Definitely makes it a point call you by his last name at every opportunity.

- SIZE KINK! That man is so tall 🤤 And if it wasn't apparent by him having a series called "manhunt," he loves that he can easily over power you. 

- your place is seated on his lap cockwarming him while he works

- I could see dream wanting a bigger family (3-4 kids) He's so close to his parents and siblings. Plus he has such a big heart. Having his own kids with you is a dream come true.

- they say that animals can tell when you're expecting. So of course, Miss Patches is the first to know about her new sibling. She's actually how you found out! One morning, you wake up to Patches laying on your stomach purring. She proceeds to follow you around the house, never leaving your side. She's lovey, but usually never this clingy. When you proceed to get sick later on bc of a bad taste or smell, you and Dream start to put the pieces together. Your suspicions come true when you both are starring down at the positive test in your hands.

- patches is your best buddy throughout your pregnancy. You can expected once the baby is born she'd sleep at the foot of the crib. 

- OMG all the crazy baby shower ideas he'd have. He's just crazy excited to share the news with everyone.

- dream would cater to your every demand. He's just so appreciative that you're carrying your baby. He's definitely the type to hold your baby belly to give your back a break. He also low key grateful your sex drive hasnt decreased too much. You'd have to keep him at bay during the last month of your pregnancy if you don't want the baby coming out early 🤣

- singing to your baby bump and his heart exploding every time he feels the baby kick

- he holds your hand the entire time you're in the hospital. He's so scared for you. He won't leave your side, constantly making sure u have whatever you need, even if it requires bribing the nurses /j

- he's SO SO proud of you! The sight of his partner and baby melts his heart! Omfg definitely has a little striped (blue or pink) cat beanie for the hospital.

- he is the type to take you and the kids on different family trips like to see football games and the beach.

Sapnap:

- he's definitely more the reserved type. Doesn't want to rush into things you arent ready for. But don't let him deceive you, he fantasizes about you pregnant in a sundress, with your swollen belly and tits, regularly.

- once you both decide it's the right time, there is no stopping the beast. It's his fucking mission to breed you multiple times a day

- that being said, he downloaded a app to track your ovulation cycle. Whenever he gets a notification, he immediately drops what he's doing and is on you in an instant

- sure Sap is on the shorter side, but he is still taller than you. And sure as heck broader. Again is the type to love that he can easily manhandle you

- again Milo and Naomi are the first to know and are your cuddle buddies

-also gives the vibe of wanting a bigger family (3-5). Also googled what a group of pandas is called, an embarrassment, a cupboard, or a bamboo. 

-will also spoil the crap out of you and the baby.

-he gives the vibes of construction dad. Like already putting up the fence and swing set in the yard and the kid isn't even born yet. But this is very useful during your nesting phase, so your house gets a make over

-loves setting up the nursery with you and picking out baby clothes and stuffed animals 

-he gives the vibes that he would enjoy going to like those couples birthing exercise classes with you. Like you both get a little workout and get to socialize with other couples (That's so random but it makes sense to my brain)

-scared asf when you go into labor. Panic mode activated! He gives the vibes where you wouldn't know if the doctor is giving breathing instructions to you or him. He would fight anyone who pissed you off tho. Full papa bear mode, just wanting to protect you. But it's all worth it when you and the baby turn out fine! 

-Will definitely ask the doctor when you can get pregnant again

-Dad bod.... Yup, no explanation needed. 

-he would be the coach of his kids sports teams. You will be the mini van parent. He's constantly playing with them outside. Definitely a road trip dad.

-would love doing his little girl's hair.

George:

-breeding kink goes brrrr. He would be such a dilf omfg 🤤

-even more reserved relationship wise. Doesn't want to rush anything. Just wants to appreciate your relationship. Not showy of your relationship either.

-you wait to have kids for a while after being married. You have to figure out if you'll live in the US or UK.

-that doesn't mean however that your sex life is boring. If anything it's polar opposite and you're surprised you didn't end up accidentally having kids sooner. Especially with George loving to mark you as his

-whether it's constantly having his hand on you whenever your out, the constant array of hickeys on the two of you, or the fact his cum is almost always buried in you. There is no doubt in your mind that your only HIS.

-george gives cuddle sex vibes. Like cock warming and somnophilia are 2 things up his alley.

-im tired of the George is short slander! That boy is lanky! And he can definitely put you in your place! He loves that if you're on the smaller side he can encompass you. And if you're taller, he loves that you submit to him.

-He gives me the vibes that one day he will just decide to wisk you away somewhere for a month long vacation and you aren't coming back without a baby in you.

-He gives me the vibes of being a dad of twins. Will tease you that you're such a fertile couple he put 2 kids in you, and that you'd have to be careful not to have more.

-As soon as he finds out you're expecting, he goes into research mode. Definitely reading books on what is best for you to eat to avoid nausea and he cooks for you. Just wants to make sure you are taken care of.

- Definitely tries all your weird pregnancy cravings with you

- cuddles constantly. He would love talking to your belly and would rub your back and feet for you. He holds your hair back and rubs your back when you're sick. The pure joy on his face when he feels the baby kicks. So protective of you too! No one is coming near you. Him and you keep your relationship private and your pregnancy a secret til the babies are born.

- OBSESSED with your pregnant body. Worships it. Like if you're ever insecure, he can't fathom it. Makes his point to prove just how much he loves it😉

- side bar, man definitely has a lactation kink

- he doesn't want you to be worried at all and you both do a lot of research. So when you go into labor, George is your number one supporter. Gets you all your favorite foods so you aren't hungry when u can't eat. Holds your hand during your entire C-section, kissing all over your face and constantly telling you how much he loves you.

- when both babies arrive, you both are holding them, cuddled up on the hospital bed. He feels like his life purpose is complete. He is in awe of your strength and how tiny the babies are. Will make sure to count all their fingers and toes and fuss over every little hair on their heads.

- when it's just the two of you in the room, you cuddle and take a well needed food break and fall asleep together.

- he would be the one to check on the kids at night to let you sleep

- he's so smart so he'd be the best to help with homework. And you bet the kids are carbon copies of him!

Okay that's my rant.... I have to try and sleep now bc work 😴 have a good day!

omg I'm obsessed with this. little points I wanna expand on.

SAPNAPS DAD BOD IS SO REAL HE WOULD OMG. AND THE CONSTRUCTION THING!!! he would totally build a tree house or clubhouse for your kids.

GEORGE AND YOUR KIDS WOULD BE HIM. His brown, thick hair would be the main thing they got along with his pale ass skin. And the way he would be so protective of you and your kids. He would def not show you or your kids until it was like really serious and your kids are born. He would blur out your kids faces though and only refer to the kids as nicknames not their real name.

Dream would be obsessed with breeding, on your wedding night he could barely make it to your hotel room. He'd def research beforehand to know the best positions for impregnating you. And he for sure have mini cat hats ready for your baby when they're born with their name embroidered into it.

[heaven-surrounds-you]

your cats... show them to me... please...🙏

I have too many cats but that’s bc I also take care of an outdoor feral cat community. Anyways here’s the indoor cats going in birth order.

MY TUMBLR WONT LOAD THE PICTURES FOR SOME REASON??? ONCE IT DOES ILL SHOW THEM TO YOU.

Beans (5 years old, gray tabby with orange eyes)

Her real name is Athena but when she was a baby she almost got crushed by a family sized can of Bush’s Baked Beans so. Beans.

I trained her to high five and do handshakes last year when I was extremely high and waiting on my food to warm up. I’m currently teaching her the difference between my left and right hand.

Got in trouble last week for ripping open and eating bags of kitten food for the outdoor cats even though she has plenty of food.

Val (4 years old, tortie with orange eyes, Beans’ niece)

Her name is short for Valentine but I mainly just call her Mouse bc she has a very tiny face and big ears

She is married to my dog. They are wives and there’s no debating it.

Her favorite color is dark blue. And her favorite toy is a dark blue spiral hair tie. She chirps whenever she finds it and will carry it around the house.

Cupid (4 years old, brown tabby with a bit of tortie and orange eyes, Val’s sister)

She will mother anything. She loves playing mom.

Insanely moody with me and everybody except Anchovy for absolutely no reason.

Is generally pretty good but will try to kill you if you touch her feet.

Beetlejuice (almost 3, brown tabby with mostly black on his back and orange eyes)

My son. He never stops screaming. He yearns at all hours of the day and has woken me up multiple times.

His name came from the pattern on his back, which I don’t have a good picture of. But it’s mostly black except for two brown stripes that run down his spine, and then he has symmetrical circle shapes on either side of his stomach — which resemble the segmentation of a beetle.

The name also stuck bc he insists that everything is about him and he needs to be the center of attention. He is a menace and has been permabanned from my bedroom for trying to eat one of my joints.

Mr Hyde (almost 3, brown tabby but with a more silvery-tone in the browns, orange eyes, Beetle’s twin)

His name became fitting bc his brother chases and attacks him relentlessly to the point he spends all of his time hiding in the master bedroom closet.

Whenever he comes out he will stand up and give me hugs, so his nickname is Mr Huggy. If you pet him for long enough his eyes drift apart and he purrs while sticking his tongue out.

He’s a sweet little man and has the same beetle-like pattern, just in a cooler tone of browns.

Anchovy (almost 1, orange tabby with orange eyes)

I found him outside getting bullied by the other feral cats with no nearby siblings or momma. He was sick and tiny so I brought him in and took care of him myself. Cupid and Val adopted him and took care of him whenever I wasn’t feeding him. I think he might be inbred or at least stunted bc he’s very very Small for his age but that’s ok bc we love him.

He gets along with literally all of the other cats??? Which is insane to me bc I stg every other day they’ll just start having beef with each other. But he loves them and they love him.

Genuinely has never done anything bad in his entire life. He’s literally always happy and it amazes me. He’s just a little guy and he loves to play. The worst things he’s done has been eating frowup (that was not his) and messing up the blinds trying to eat a stinkbug. He’s just the perfect little boy.

[galaxythreads]

1, 2 (b – may I also ask what colour?), 4, 8, 9, 12, 13, 15, 18, 20, 25, 28, 33, ✨34✨, 35, 36, 38 (even if you are okay with sharing, i need to know what cats say about us), 39

Quite a lot, isn't it? You may skip numbers you don't feel like elaborating.

One more question from me: what particular question(s) made you reblog this questioner? If I didn't pick it (them) then answer it (them) anyway

What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting? Calibri, size 11 font. Yes I care a lot. I've changed fonts three or four times since I started writing. I used to do Times New Roman, then Arial, then Algeraya, now I'm using Calibri and Arial occasionally.

If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil? I went to online high school and every summer you had to give back the laptops they loaned out. I wrote by hand for three months until I bought a laptop when I was 18. I know I could do it because I already have. Colors usually black or pencil.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral? Giggled. I hate it with my entire soul. Or yummy. If I could permanently remove words from the English language, it would be these two ^

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go? Already did. Someone fell from their sky to their death. it was a one-shot I wrote five years about for HTTYD.

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know. Yes but no. I am one of the most skeptical people when it comes to the supernatural. I know you're going "........you're christain." and like yeah. Different than a haunting to me. I think 99% of hauntings are just mold or carbon monoxide poisoning. I would personally have to be possessed by a ghost before I took the story seriously. I am always going to try and find a scientific reason first, if I've crossed out all those, THEN i'm like "Yep. Ghost." I genuinely DO believe people have encountered the afterlife. I feel bad energies in places/rooms, and I've seen some stuff. But I DO NOT believe that every haunting is a haunting. It's ridiculous. Make sure your carbon monoxide detector is up to date.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules. 1 - I get published and get a big fandom, 2 - one of my fanfics gets turned into a movie 3 - ChatGPT becomes illegal and doesn't overtake writing and ruin any potential prospects I have at making writing a career.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy? Hard: child death. Easy: child abuse.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends? No I don't. If you damage a book, I feel annoyed. My sister loaned me a book she wrote in the margins of once and yes it was cool to see her thoughts, but she crossed out sentences and wrote it differently and circled unique words and it was really really annoying because it was so distracting. Have never written in a book that wasn't scripture, have no plans to start.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

"I'm sorry.

He moves down the hall. Tony's enjoying this. Making May uncomfortable. It makes him sick. He wants to scream himself hoarse and demand to know how anyone could ever want that. (She said sorry.) Peter pushes open the door to his room and stares at it.

There's no looming shadowy presence in the corner. Nothing to suggest what's been going on for all this time. (Nothing has been going on.) it looks...painfully ordinary. Normal. Numbingly so. Peter stares at everything with an ache in his chest. Staying with the Starks isn't permanent he reminds himself, just until he can work things out with M&M. Then he'll be back here. He just needs...not everything.

Sorry.

Peter moves into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

I'm sorry.

He shuffles to his closet and digs through the top until he finds a duffle bag and starts to throw things into it. Clothing, his laptop, his phone charger, a blanket, other things he barely processes, and a few books. He doesn't see his phone and realizes that it's probably still in May and Matt's bedroom. Which...great.

Peter moves for his backpack, stuffing anything school related inside. He doesn't know if he'll be back before winter break is over. He doesn't think so.

Sorry.

May said sorry.

Peter's stiff hands move across the desk, fumbling to grab his history book, but it won't stick with his fingers. The backpack falls from his limp hands, landing at his feet with a huff of air.

Sorry.

As if that's supposed to fix it. Take back everything that happened. Half a year of aching. Of hating. Of nothing.

May said sorry.

Matt pushed him down the stairs.

Sorry.

His arm is broken.

May said sorry. And he doesn't want to forgive her."

-> Not one for Chocolate Anymore, I see

This passage is in response to May apologizing to Peter. And Peter just. yeah. This passage went through a lot of revisions that I can remember, Peter fixated on different things. But the sorry was what struck a chord with me.

I was, at the time, struggling with a lot of personal issues with my parents, and had a similar vein of thought to this ^. Sorry doesn't fix it. Sorry doesn't make it better. It's just words. I wanted to showcase that.

People hound victims of abuse for forgiving their abusers, especially if they said sorry. Like it makes it all better. They apologized, didn't they? Yeah. But May neglected Peter for months. He doesn't have to forgive her. This was my response to that. Peter is angry. He's allowed to be angry. Sorry doesn't fix it.

20..If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch One true love. perfection doesn't exist and the potion would be useless. Plus I'm lonely and single and very much wish I had a gf.

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story? I always write Thor as hating poptarts because I like to subvert fandom tropes.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Loki. His head is haunted. Hela's a close second though. Her head is very haunted.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate? I draw. I play several instruments. I make collages and I build modals sometimes. The art comes into my writing sometimes, but not often.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go: It is utterly pointless. Look, there are very few instances that you NEED to have the oxford comma there. When you're listing things, people understand the and. I think that English is desperately trying to stick to outdated rules because they're "right" but the thing is, if you don't adapt with the language the language will die. Let it flow and change. It's normal. It's healthy. That's why English is how it is now.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens? No adverbs.

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us? I write the chapter, let it sit for 3-4 days and then rewrite and edit it. Letting it marinate is just so weird to me.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up? I like comments. I enjoy putting down stories and sharing them. I like seeing people put the story together in the comments. I like the community.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

Poem I wrote a few years ago (I have pages and pages and pages of poems actually, it was my Thing when I was 13-15).

"Trapped and I can't breathe,

Blind and I can't see,

Alone I cry and grieve,

I'm afraid of me,

from this ask game

[scaramouche-bully]

— ☆ Size kink headcanons

Includes: Diluc and Kaeya

[ Sub ] Gender-neutral reader

Contains: Size kink, size difference, soft + rough sex, dacryphilia, stomach bulge, coming untouched, sadism + degrading. 

[ masterlist ]

I had this already finished in my drafts so I’m posting it first before I start working on requests. Thank you for all the love on the overstimulation fic, I will be writing a part 2 with a sub reader soon. 

— ☆ Diluc

Diluc secretly enjoys the size difference. When he’s holding you, he can’t help but compare how small you are to him. You think he’s just showing affection when he’s caressing your stomach but he’s really measuring how deep his cock can go. 

He doesn’t want to accidently hurt you though so he will let you take the reigns. Even with all the prep he did beforehand, you’re still so tight that he has to grip the bedsheets as he watches you try and take him. 

How tight your walls feel is enough of an indicator but watching you whimper whenever you accidently push too far, it makes him nervous but also really hot. The small squeezes of your walls make him shudder as he tries to keep his self-restraint in check.

When he sees that small smile appear and the pride shine in your eyes when you finally manage to bottom out, he finds you so cute. You seem so proud as he’s softly praising you. You did so well so just relax and let him take over.

The small tears that well up in your eyes and the small thrust’s you make, he adores it. He takes a slow breath in as he waits for you to adjust to your walls being stuffed full, kissing the inside of your thighs as a small comfort. He’s watching you as he runs his hands from your legs to your stomach, cursing under his breath when he can feel the head of his cock. You whine and tighten around him even more that he leans forward carefully to kiss away the tears that are lining your eyes as you whimper and cling onto him. 

“Luc...” you sniff, trying to relax as you give him a small smile, “y-you can keep going. I’m..I’m okay.” 

He nods and deeply breathes in, gripping your legs when you squeeze around him, before slowly dragging out halfway and gently pushing back in. You’re panting, whimpering, and softly moaning as his thick cock rubs against your walls. As much as he loves watching your reactions, seeing the bulge of his cock poke through your stomach has him almost feral. While it feels so good, it’s too slow for your liking. Diluc’s always treated you with care and even when you say you’re fine, that you like when it hurts, but he won’t go faster. You bite your lip raw before looking up at him determined. 

“D-Diluc, if you don’t- ah..fuck me into the mattress right now I’m going to find K-Kaeya and have hi- Ah!” you yelp before you can finish when he suddenly slams into you. You realize that you might have stepped a bit too far when you see the calm Diluc suddenly flip a switch and whatever restraint in him snaps. He pushes you on your back as he leans forward, smiling softly at you before uttering, “I’m going to fuck you stupid so you can’t even say your own name.”

— ☆ Kaeya

He loves it. He's an absolute sadist so when you're whining that it hurts? Well, it's supposed to love. Be still and take what he’s giving you.

It gives him a sick sense of pride seeing you cry and desperately trying to crawl away. He likes playing with your hair, cooing that everything will be alright, before gripping your wrists and forcefully pulling you back on his thick cock.

He has a filthy mouth, he’ll wring out every whimper out of you and make you beg for him to help you.

It’s so cute to him that you’re sniffling that it’s too much, yet he hasn’t moved an inch and you’ve been softly rocking back on his cock. You’re such a baby that can’t be honest with yourself but it’s alright, he’s here to teach you.

“K-Kaeya...mm! Please,” you’re whining at him as he wears a lazy smirk and lays back as he watches you do all the work. He never helps you. For always calling you a slacker, he doesn’t put that much work when it comes to fucking you. His cock is enough to have you cumming on him just from trying to fit him all in. He loves watching you rock against him, placing your hand on your stomach so you can feel him inside you. That dumb look on your face as you drool all over yourself just from having his dick inside you. He can’t get enough. 

“Can’t you hear how wet you are? You should be able to take it easily love,” he laughs under his breath as he rubs small circles into your waist before gripping your hips and slamming you down, “So quick squirming and take my cock properly.”

“Ah! Kaeya! W-Wait--Ngh!” you sob out as your walls desperately try to make room to accommodate his length. You’re crying into his shoulder as your sniffle and moan as he softly coos at how much of a baby you are. You’re clamping and spasming around him as you cum all over him as he thrust’s back into you, digging into your soft spots as hard as he can as you orgasm. When you finally calm down, he wipes the cum that pooled onto his stomach before forcefully shoving his fingers back into you beside his cock. He quickly pins you down onto your back when you flinch and try to move away from the assault of pleasure as he holds you in place. 

“N-No! Kaeya..ah! I-I can’t I can’t!” you gasp out but he only grins cruelly at you, holding your chin up with his other hand as he kisses you deeply to muffle your sobs. You can and you will. 

[here2bbtstrash]

self control (explicit)

genre: my first foray into angst !!!! with a side of smut~

pairing: hoseok x reader (imagined)

summary: you'll never know the way hoseok really feels about you.

word count: 1k

contains: explicit sexual content ~ member POV, unrequited love, masturbation, imagined: [infidelity, cunnilingus, sex, choking, & dumbification if you squint], hobi is rly hard on himself :'( also a small allusion at the end to rituals around cleanliness or obsessive-compulsive tendencies

A/N: please don't ask me what inspired this because i haven't a clue my friends 💀 just deep in my cancer season/yearning feels over here I GUESS. but i let myself write a little differently to fit The Vibe and i think i like how it turned out~

i like don't even want to post this considering i just dropped so much on you (and i said i was on a break but shhhh the muse came for me), buuuuuut doing it anyway ack!!! ENJOY!!

this is also on AO3!

~*~

Hoseok makes himself sick when he’s like this.

His hyungs warned him that this would hurt. He didn’t realize they’d meant it so literally. It physically hurts, a thumbprint-shaped bruise blossoming inside his chest, molded that way because he keeps fucking pressing on it, putting an ache in himself for no good reason, thinking of you, like this, like now.

He sees himself down on his knees in front of you, where he belongs, sinning through the act of worship. Begging some god he doesn’t believe in to forgive him, because he sure as hell isn’t forgiving himself, not when he isn’t even sorry.

So fucking insane, to be on the verge of tears and somehow stupidly horny at the same time. Make that make sense.

A hotel room on a high floor, a king-sized bed, egyptian cotton. Only the best for you, fuck a pricetag. The irony of infidelity framed in double-pane windows, city lights blinking impartially as he unzips your dress, says a prayer into your mouth, don’t have to tell anybody, just us, just tonight.

The way you want it, too. You bloom for him, pretty and pliant. At least that’s his hope.

He turns listlessly, his bed– his real bed in his new, too-big house, where every room throws an echo because he doesn’t have enough furniture to fucking fill it– suddenly hot, legs a frustrated tangle in the blankets, dick stirring to attention between them. He doesn’t want to be here (he doesn’t want to be anywhere, really, blipping out of existence for the night would be ideal), so he closes his eyes, lets himself sink back into it.

Just a little longer, then he’ll be good.

Your hair fans out on the pillow beneath you, makeup a mess but you’re smiling anyway, breathless and raw and so real inside this fantasy. Reaching for him, fuck-me eyes, come on, insatiable, give it to me, need you nownownow.

He fucks you down into the plush hotel mattress, and he can’t stop thinking that your body is art, a relief sculpture of curves against soft white bedding, a carved out and fucked out beauty. His, tonight. It’s enough. More than.

The sheets are damp at the place where your bodies meet, arousal and sweat and saliva from nearly an hour spent between your legs (he loves the way they shake when you’re close) because he’s learned that once he gets you started, you don’t stop coming.

He strokes deep because he loves the way you whimper with each pass, the way you squeeze tight enough to tear a growl from the back of his throat, he’s fucking feral with it now. Braces himself on one hand while the other holds your throat but applies no pressure; he knows better than that, can’t have you going home marked up.

Hoseok is good for you, leaves no trace behind that won’t wash off in the shower. He has excellent self control.

Excellent enough that he should’ve ripped himself out of this dream already. He’s never let things go this far before, in his mind. He’s all determination when he wants to be, synapses hard as steel, can shove down desire and self-hatred and something too desperate to quite be love until it goes still again and he can put the smile back on.

But tonight feels different. It’s like he wants the pain, would elect to be gutted and splayed down the middle if only for proof that his heart remains there in his chest, beating quiet consistency.

Yes, like before, even now.

Just the same, even now.

Always, probably.

He’s hard, has been hard. Sticky sweet kisses of precum press over the inside of his briefs, then into the hollow of his stomach when he flips his length up, as if that might help.

He doesn’t want to touch himself. It’s another line he’s yet to cross, the last thing he has to cling to when he needs to believe that he isn’t depraved, disgusting, for harboring all of this inside himself, carrying this pathetic torch for far too long.

But the thought of rutting into you, the little gasps you make, eyelashes fluttering and pussy quivering as he works yet another one out of you… Shit. It’s too much. When you tip up to find his lips with yours, whining nonsensically into his mouth�� fucked too dumb to make any sense, he thinks he might not ever let you leave this room.

And that snaps his last thread of restraint.

Hoseok only needs to thrust up into his fist three times before his climax hits, painting over his stomach, chest, hand, sheets, fuck. He bites down so hard on his other palm that he threatens to break skin, all to muffle the animal sound of shame and need, a force of habit– he lives alone now, the walls of his empty house don’t give a fuck.

He comes like a virgin, he thinks to himself, critiquing a performance the second he steps off the stage as is his way. The thought that finally sent him over the edge was PG-13 at best: his tongue in the heat of your mouth.

He really does think he could get over all this if you kissed him, just once.

Embarrassing.

Guilt is a bitter chaser to pleasure, downed before bliss even shows up, if there was any. He’s a mess: emotionally, literally– cum all over himself, the bedsheets too. Creepy, dirty, wrong.

His chest constricts in the way that’s become so familiar it’s almost soothing, makes no fucking sense yet somehow it does. A self-invented problem he knows how to solve, a specific set of steps begging completion in perfect order.

Scalding-hot shower. Exfoliate. Lotion. Cleanser, toner, serum; wait for it to sink in. Sheets in the wash. Detergent, fabric softener. Vacuums the floor while he’s at it. New sheets on the bed, hospital corners tucked sharp, pillows fluffed, immaculate. Back to the bathroom, moisturizer that he adds two drops of rose-hip oil to and mixes against the back of his hand, sleeping pack to lock it in.

He swears he’s got new lines along the corners of his mouth, feels stupid that he’s ruining his skin with smiles that aren’t even real.

He can exhale, then, still with a tight grip on the edge of the sink. Once it’s all done, every trace of indiscretion cleaned up and put away, and he’s good again. At least until the next time his self control slips.

[explosivenebula]

Heyyo! I saw some of your request posts and they look awesome! If your requests are open, I wanted to request something for Kirishima! We all know he is a big loveable dork who isn't inherently violent BUT I was wondering if you could do the first time Kirishima lost his shit on Mineta when Mineta tries to make advances on his S/O? I know it's weird but I love protective and angry feral Kirishima. I hope this is okay and I hooe you have an amazing day or night!😁

Yes! I love this so much, protective Kiri is adorable! Hope you like this post!

MASTERLIST 

‘When Kirishima Snaps’ Kirishima x Fem!reader SCENARIO {REQUEST}

PAIRINGS: Kirishima x reader 

WARNINGS: none

SCENARIO: Mineta approaches you once again with his crude language and unnecessary proposals. Kirishima gives a firm impression that he’s not happy, but finally snaps when Mineta refuses to cease his advances, and takes things too far. 

If you’d like to request a similar headcanon or something entirely different with the same or different MHA/BNHA characters, feel free do to so! Note: Most of my work will be a gender-neutral reader/perspective unless you specifically request something different. You may also request a headcanon for any size, ethnicity, religion etc of person, everything here is welcome! (As long as it is not offensive, and follows the guidelines.)

🌸Explosive Nebula 爆発性星雲🌸

- 07.02.2021 -

 “Oh my god, will you ever shut up?”

You groaned lightly, looking down in disgust at the perverted classmate rubbing his hands together in anticipation and reaching for the bottom of your uniform. “All I’m saying is you deserve better, I know how to make you feel good.”

Before you could part your lips to shoot back a repulsed reply, you felt calloused hands squeeze your shoulders softly, earning an immediate and thankful hum to echo from your chest. The grateful appearance of your boyfriend was short lived however when his eyes landed on Mineta, causing him to swallow harshly in avoiding saying anything he assumed he would regret later.

“Leave her alone, man. She doesn’t belong to you, or anyone for that matter. Shut up about it, okay?” You sighed, deepening the frown you had managed to plaster on your face. “Eiji, it’s fine. I can handle it.”

The annoyed red head simply shook his head, suppressing a huff. “No, it’s not fine. I’m sick of him harassing you and the other girls.” Soft hands left your side and trailed over his arm, pulling him away from the smaller male’s smug figure. “It’s not worth it, please.”

The small argument begun to draw the attention of an otherwise careless Bakugou sitting a few metres away, his feet kicked up on the table, as well as Midoriya and Todoroki, the two focused on Yaoyorozu’s study notes from the day’s class. “Shitty hair has a point, dumbass. That useless extra needs to be taught a fucking lesson.” 

Mina clutched the hem of her jumper, watching the three as they looked on with semi-amused features. “You two...should we really be fighting over this? Mineta’s a scumbag, I get it, but you shouldn’t give him this attention.” You nodded in agreeance, the two of you ignoring Mineta’s cries of protest at the insults. “She’s right, Eijirou. We should leave it alone, he’ll only pressure you more.”

Your boyfriend shared a hesitant look between Mineta and you before sighing in defeat, accepting your request. “Fine, but...” He trailed off, swivelling to face the opposite direction before glaring down at his hated classmate. “Touch her, talk to her, or even look in her direction, or any of the other girls again, and I’ll make sure you don’t last the day.” 

A small snicker erupted from his ash blonde friend, Bakugou hiding the fact he was slightly impressed with Kirishima’s direct threat. Although, nothing would match how the red head would react to the unknowingly close event of Mineta inevitably making the same direct mistake. 

“Whatever. You couldn't please her as well as me, though. I mean, just look at her. Do you really know wat you’re doing with a woman like that? You only have to look at those well preserved-”

Kaminari clasped his hand over the smaller males mouth before he could continue any further, but the damage had already been done. Kirishima swivelled around, his jaw tightening before a low growl left his stiff throat. “What the hell did you just say?”

He couldn’t help himself. You bit your lip, the thoughts swirling in your mind. The rest of the class seated in the open common area watched on in shock, not sure whether to intervene or not. Sure, they didn’t want Kirishima doing something he may regret, but Minta deserved everything that was coming for him. 

You could practically feel the anger swimming of Kirishma’s body, pooling in the back of his mind as his eyes narrowed and set on the smaller male. Mineta simply shrugged, trying not to show his shivering hands. “I said, I can’t imagine how you ever know what you’re doing.” 

Kaminari cringed, a tensions' silence falling over the room. Nobody dared breath or move a single muscle, afraid they’d cause an outburst of emotions early. You bit down on your tongue, trying to relieve some of the nervousness and worried feelings building butterflies in your stomach. Kirishima had never acted this way before, it was almost...scary. 

It wasn’t long before the redhead opened his mouth and begun yelling, his words laced with venom that dripped and dried in the exposed stale air. “How the hell do you even call yourself a hero or a man, huh?! Don’t you ever talk about her that way again! You should have learned some fucking human decency before you were even accepted into this place through pity points!”

Kirishima seethed, a knot tightening in your chest at hearing his crude words. He had never acted this way before, something within his mind had clearly snapped, and he was ready for a fight. “Eijiro, please.” You begged him, gripping his bicep and digging your nails into his skin, just enough to snap his attention away from Mineta, who was being gripped by the collar of his shirt and lifted away by Shoji.

But the small male gave a smug smirk and reached his hand out, being close enough just to allow his fingertips to brush along the curve of your ass, before reaching down and squeezing the flesh in his palm. You gasped at the feeling and yelped, stepping forward into Kirishima’s chest. 

Your eyes widened when a soft growl echoed in your ears, the red head’s grip tightening around your shoulders before pushing you aside.  

“Wait, Eiji!” Before you could muster enough strength to pull him back he had lurched forward, his quirk causing him to harden his fist. Mina’s eyes widened and she cried out, jumping backwards to avoid being caught up in the confrontation. “Please! Izuku!” You cried out to the shocked boy staring at your boyfriends aggressive behaviour, his eyes quickly flickering towards you and Mineta. He snapped from the trance and jumped at your voice, making quick work to grip Kirishima’s arm and pull him back, quickly being aided by Todoroki. 

As Kirishima was eventually pulled away you managed to get a small glance at Mineta, your eyes narrowing as you did so. He had a small gash on his cheek, obviously from where Kirishima had attempted to punch him, but only grazed his skin with a hardened hand. 

In that moment, all you could do was swallow your saliva and look away, a small pang of fear gnawing at your heart. You hated seeing your boyfriend in such a wild rage, it scared you, to say the least. “Eijiro...” You trailed off, your tone slightly shaky and laced with worry. The red head gave a shaky scoff, ripping his eyes away from the commotion to catch a small glimpse of the scared expression lacing your features. 

You heard a soft line of laughter coming from behind you and rolled your eyes, immediately recognising the husky voice. You shot a glare at the explosive ash blonde, causing him to shrug his shoulders and sink deeper into the leather chair. “For someone who hates being out here, you’re sure enjoying this.” You mumbled lowly, turning your attention back to Kirishima. 

Your boyfriend sighed heavily, his eyes staring into yours. You could just make out a hint of regret in his shining irises. “I’m telling you, it’s not worth it. Please. Don’t start something over him.” He begun to speak once more but you cut him off, already seeing he was beginning to protest. “Stop it. You can’t do anything, not now. Just Ignore him, okay?”

Kirishima bit his lip, shaking his head and looking towards you. “I know, I’m sorry, it’s just...” You felt his arms wrap themselves delicately around your waist, squeezing you tightly. “It’s fine, you don’t have to explain, I understand.” He squeezed you tighter, burying his face in your shoulder. “No, but I do have to apologise. I-”

He chocked back soft tears, afraid of looking at you after causing such a scene. “I scared you, I know I did. I’m sorry, no man should ever do that to anyone, especially you.” You sniffled softly, nodding your head. “Yeah, you did scare me, but it’s fine, okay? I understand why, you couldn’t help what you did. Listen to me.” 

You placed your hands to rest on either side of his face, squishing his cheeks gently and pulling him down to meet your lips, hot breath ghosting over his skin before planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I love you, alright? You don’t have to start fights over vermin like that, trust me, I’m okay. I love you more than anything, Kiri.”

He gave a gentle smile, kissing you softly and resting his chin on your shoulder, sighing contently. “I love you too.”

If you’d like to request a similar headcanon or something entirely different with the same or different MHA/BNHA characters, feel free do to so! Note: Most of my work will be a gender-neutral reader/perspective unless you specifically request something different. You may also request a headcanon for any size, ethnicity, religion etc of person, everything here is welcome! (As long as it is not offensive, and follows the guidelines.)

🌸Explosive Nebula 爆発性星雲🌸

Posted 07.04.2021

Written and Published by: explosivenebula

[prairiedawn]

Spock & McCoy Relationship Analysis: Miri

Image description: Spock is crouched over McCoy, with a security officer looking on. McCoy is lying on his back, unconscious, with an inflamed palm sized lesion on his cheek. Spock has one hand on the doctor's chest over his heart, and the other clasping the doctor's hand or wrist.

Boy Howdy a lot changes when you're stuck for a week on a planet full of feral children while dying of a horrible disease. We have reached "Miri," after skipping over "What Are Little Girls Made Of," since McCoy isn't even in that episode. And so, on to the analysis!

Character Impacts:

Spock gets a solid 7/10 on the Stress-O-Meter for this one. He's stranded on a planet with several members of the crew, including Kirk and McCoy, for an entire week while watching them slowly die of a painful, personality altering disease. The entire week, he must entertain the prospect of remaining there for an indeterminate amount of time after his crewmates die with only annoying feral children who might well want to kill him for company. McCoy gets a 9/10. I mean, he gets to do all of the above, while also being responsible for attempting to find a cure for the deadly virus they all have within a few days--while sick with the virus himself. Close to death, he injects himself with his own, untested cure and falls unconscious without knowing whether it will cure him or kill him. (I am saving 10/10 for The Empath ok?)

Interactions: There's another remark at the beginning in which McCoy notes in a more or less professional context that Spock's different physiology is sparing him from the virus, and Spock returns with his usual assertion that he is glad of his Vulcan traits.

Later, we see Spock remarking on the old microscope McCoy is using and McCoy noting that it may be old, but it works. During that conversation, McCoy snaps at Spock about the amount of time they have left and excuses himself from the room (demonstrating that the virus is making him irritable). They are shown throughout the episode with their heads together, working on random sciencey looking stuff. Finally, they have an argument over whether to test their possible cure without access to the ship's computers--an action that has a substantial risk of death. McCoy argues that they could have only hours, even minutes anyway (it's strongly implied that McCoy may have only minutes) Spock wants to make one last effort to retrieve their communicators to contact the ship. The argument is heated but respectful. Spock leaves McCoy alone with the cure.

While Spock is absent, McCoy injects himself and calls Spock's name as he collapses. Spock finds him lying on the floor, checks his heartbeat with a splayed hand on his chest, then takes both of McCoy's hands and places them on his chest, holding them there with his own for an extended period of time while watching him with intense concern until the lesions start to disappear, then he's also manhandling McCoy's face.

Analysis: Hoo boy. Well. I have to assume being thrown together under those circumstances brought them much, much closer. We've gone from "coworker I occasionally joke with" to "I'm going to hold you while you die" in a week. It also makes me wonder what Mr. Touch Telepath is doing holding McCoy's hands and gazing meaningfully at him. A little life support, maybe? Also, did Spock leave him knowing he would inject himself? Knowing it was probably the only way to save his life, but not being able to agree with him that he should do something that might kill him? Does he feel guilty for leaving? (Glob, Hemmer, is he thinking of Hemmer?)

Anyway, we'll just see how this impacts their future interactions.

[rocorambles]

Realization

Pairing: Kyoutani x Reader, Iwaizumi x Reader (one-sided)

Genre: SFW, Coming to terms with feelings, Meet Ugly, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Fluff

Prompt: Meet Ugly

Summary: There’s a difference between liking someone and liking the “idea” of someone.

A/N: This is for the HQHQ SFW Meet Ugly collab. Check out the masterlist here and be sure to read all the other talent-packed content on this list!

“Thanks for all your hard work.”

Your face heats, a flustered smile and giggle escaping you as you grin at Iwaizumi, heart soaring from his praise, chest constricting at how handsome he looks when his lips twitch upwards. It’s only a brief moment, but it means the world to you. You begin to bow in respect to your senpai, only to be cut short, both your heads sharply turning towards the gym door as it slams open with a loud bang.

And just like that, Kyoutani Kentarou has ruined your special moment as he determinedly stares at Iwaizumi who merely sighs at the familiar sight of the second-year. Funny how Kyoutani finds himself at the volleyball gymnasium more now that he’s left the team than when he actually used to be on it.

“Race me.”

You sympathetically smile at Iwaizumi before scurrying off to help put away the rest of the gym equipment as the ace begins to make his way towards his underclassman, tuning out the typical scene, knowing how it’ll end, how it always ends. And sure enough, it’s another indisputable win for Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi - 31 Kyoutani - 0

For someone who’s in your class and your year, you hardly know a thing about Kyoutani other than the fact that he’s as sullen and silent in the classroom as he is outside of it. But as you curiously turn your attention to his figure slumped on top of his desk as you wait for your homeroom teacher to arrive, you have to admit his tenacity is...admirable to say the least.

Aoba Johsai is renowned for its volleyball team and although you hadn’t known a thing about the sport, you were easily swayed by your friends and classmates into watching a game, interested in seeing what the big deal was about. In all fairness, you’re not sure if you necessarily like the sport itself any more than you did that first game. But when you saw Iwaizumi Hajime spike a ball, you were instantly hooked.

Everyone and their mom is smitten with Oikawa Tooru and while you can appreciate your senpai’s charisma, skills, and attractiveness, it’s sharp green eyes and a strong and silent demeanor that captures your heart.

One game turns into two. Two games turn into three. Before you know it you’re donning a teal shirt, shouting and cheering the team on as an official member of the Aoba Johsai Cheer team.

The entire team is treated with almost reverence and certainly respect. So imagine your surprise when you’re watching them practice and a loud growl suddenly echoes throughout the room, Kyoutani stalking towards Iwaizumi with almost hostile aggression. You nervously fidget, unsure if you should do anything, worried he might hurt your crush. You’ve heard the stories of the infamous Mad Dog and his temper, but you can’t imagine Iwaizumi doing anything to warrant any of the younger boy’s anger.

Yet no one else seems to be concerned, the third-years briefly glancing at the two before continuing on with practice. So you stay put, intently watching the unfolding scene, only to rapidly bink in shock when Kyoutani barks at Iwaizumi to arm wrestle. And like a surprisingly addicting reality show, you can’t tear your eyes away as Iwaizumi easily agrees and proceeds to win, as Kyoutani scowls but politely (albeit stiffly) bows in respect to the ace before angrily storming out like a dog with its tail between his legs.

But much like a reality show that plays on the same trope over and over again, you also begin to barely acknowledge the strange daily competitions Kyoutani instigates, just wryly shaking your head in amusement when you hear Kyoutani’s familiar snarl, internally praising Iwaizumi for his patience and good-natured spirit as he goes along with Kyoutani’s whims.

Cut to a few months later, you worriedly gaze at Iwaizumi who looks worse for wear, hovering over him to make sure he’s hydrated as he holds a cool towel to his forehead while he sits on the bench, taking an uncharacteristic break.

“Iwaizumi-senpai, maybe you should go home if you’re not feeling well. It’s not good to push yourself too hard if you’re sick.”

The brunette groans in agreement, sheepishly grinning at your concerned face.

“Alright, alright. Stop looking at me like I’m going to die. I’ll go home-”

He’s cut off by the gym door slamming open and both of you whip your heads again once more as Kyoutani storms towards you two.

“Race me.”

“Not today, Kyoutani. I’m not feeling well-”

“Chickening out? Didn’t take you for someone who lets a little cold-”

“SHUT UP!”

Both boys instantaneously stiffen and quiet down, staring at you wide-eyed and in shock. But you’re not done and you stomp towards Kyoutani, turning yourself into a flimsy barrier between your rude classmate and your senpai, getting between the two and shoving your finger in Kyoutani’s chest.

“Iwaizumi-senpai is sick and he’s going to go home and rest. He’s not going to play your stupid little games that you always lose anyway and you’re going to walk away and stop being so rude to your upperclassman.”

If you weren’t so fired up, you might be proud at how you’ve flabbergasted your fellow hot-headed classmate, leaving him speechless as he stares at you, mouth gaping. But a fire is blazing inside of you and you bare your fangs at him.

“Go. AWAY!”

Your raised voice hits a chord in Kyoutani and there’s tense silence as both of you practically growl at each other before he shoves his hands in his pockets and storms off, muttering angrily under his breath. But when the gym door clangs shut behind him, all your bravado dissipates and you curl in on yourself in embarrassment as you feel everyone’s eyes still on you.

But you startle when a loud raucous laughter fills the air and you turn to pout at Iwaizumi who’s howling in between coughs and sneezes.

“What’s so funny?”

You don’t mean for the question to be as sharp as it is and you cringe when you hear the defensiveness in your own ears, an apology already on your tongue. But your words get stuck in your throat as your body heat skyrockets when a calloused hand endearingly ruffles your head.

“Thanks for standing up for me. I didn’t realize I had such a scary guard dog.”

You shyly look into playful green eyes, only to whine in protest and wrinkle your nose in distaste as he continues on.

“You remind me of Kyoutani when you get fired up.”

“Yeah! It’s like watching two angry chihuahuas go at it. Scary~”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!”

You exchange smug grins with Iwaizumi as Oikawa dramatically complains about the volleyball sized bruise on his forehead before the two of you walk back home together, already leaving the day’s events behind you.

Or at least you tried to.

You can feel eyes boring holes into your head as class drags on and you don’t need to turn to know who it is. Ever since your little showdown, Kyoutani has made it a point to keep you in his sight, staring at you throughout class, only scoffing in return when you snarkily tell him that as smart as you are, he might find it more helpful to actually take notes from the blackboard in the front of the classroom.

Should you be more unnerved by the fact that you’ve caught his interest and that he can’t seem to keep his eyes off you? Maybe. But you don’t feel any creepiness or danger from his intense gaze and if you’re honest, you find it disturbingly cute (although you’d die before you admit it). It reminds you of a cautious puppy trying to study and gauge another puppy who’s entered their home and space.

You suppose you’re passing whatever mental examinations he’s running you through when he unexpectedly joins you at your lunch table one day and you find you don’t mind the comfortable silence that settles around the two of you as you continue on with your meals like nothing is out of the ordinary.

It’s subtle, so subtle that you don’t really notice your newfound closeness until Yahaba briefly mentions it one day as you’re helping the team clean up.

“When did Kyoutani and you become so close?”

Close?

That’s not a word you’d necessarily use to describe your relationship, but as you ponder his question, you can’t deny where he’s coming from. Kyoutani has become something of a protective shadow, appearing out of nowhere as you make your way to and from school, rudely pulling you back whenever he deems you too close to the side of the street as cars zoom by, hostilely growling at men who come too close to you on crowded train cars, smacking more than a hand or two that drift too close to the hem of your skirt.

And in return you’ve found yourself mindlessly blabbering on and on to him, telling him whatever’s on your mind, nosily peeking over his shoulder and correcting mistakes you notice in his homework, passing bites of food from your bento to his.

Close. The two of you are close. Something warm flutters in your chest at that realization.

It’s like a veil has been lifted from your eyes and you suddenly really see Kyoutani for the first time as the two of you walk to and from school and classes. You see the lean toned muscles of his forearm as he insists on holding your bag for you. You see the well-meaning soul behind all the barks and feral eyes. And suddenly the weight of his eyes on you feels heavier than before and you unconsciously move to pat the rumples out of your skirt and shirt and make sure your makeup is intact.

You find your own eyes straying towards his figure as he furrows his brows in concentration, paying attention to the scrawled equations on the board. You no longer ignore his daily competitions with Iwaizumi, surprising yourself with your sudden quiet internal wish for Kyoutani to win as you watch the two race and wrestle against each other. Meanwhile unknown to you, narrowed eyes hone in on the comfortable companionship between Iwaizumi and you, something uncomfortable churning in Kyoutani’s stomach as he observes the carefree way you smile and laugh at everything the ace says.

Kyoutani and you have been assigned to classroom cleaning duties and both of you work in an easy natural harmony, comfortably maneuvering around each other as you sweep and wipe down the room. So you’re surprised when you bump into a hard object, turning around in confusion and coming face to face with Kyoutani who is intensely staring you down.

“What do you like about Iwaizumi?”

You’re stunned, mouth wildly moving around as you try to form words, but no sounds come out.

Your crush on Iwaizumi is a poorly kept secret. You’ve never been subtle and you have an inkling even the vice-captain himself is well-aware of your feelings for him. So it’s not Kyoutani’s awareness of it that’s leaving you speechless. It’s your instinctual response of denial that shocks you to your core.

“I- don’t like Iwaizumi?”

There’s silence as Kyoutani narrows his eyes and stares at you in a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

“Was that a question?”

“Shh! I’m trying to think.”

Kyoutani rolls his eyes, but he settles on top of a nearby desk, patiently waiting and watching as your thoughts race.

You like Iwaizumi. You’ve always liked Iwaizumi. But you wonder if you’ve ever truly liked the upperclassman in the way you believe you did. He’s hard working, responsible, kind, handsome, and physically gifted. He’s a man’s man, someone who everyone looks up to. He’s the shiny glossy page of a magazine that catches your eyes, showing you a vision of a picture perfect world you wildly create and build in your mind. He’s the older brother and mentor you’ve always wanted. He’s protection, comfort, and guidance. But even then, he’s always at arm’s length, on a pedestal you’ve forced him on, unattainable, unreachable. He’s not Kyoutani.

Kyoutani. Rude, gruff, brash Kyoutani with his few words and feral snarls. He’s not Kyoutani and yet when you think of bleached hair, your heart starts pounding and you instinctively want to lean in towards the silent wall of lean muscles that hovers around you, keeping you safe, listening to every word you say. You think of countless meals, walks, and hangout/study sessions. You think of sharp words and growls mixed in with laughter and fondness.

Iwaizumi is just a pretty pipe dream you’ve concocted. He’s a great senpai, a good man, who you've used as the center of your rose-tinted imagination. But you don’t really know him. Not the way you know Kyoutani. Your feelings for Iwaizumi are silly, whimsy, fluffy and cloud-like, a vapid perfect world that doesn’t exist. Not like the raw and tangible bolts you feel around Kyoutani as the two of you bicker about who has the right answer on their homework when your responses differ, excitedly talk about your favorite dog breed, or discover your new go-to fried chicken place together by accident one day while the two of you are aimlessly strolling through town.

You like Iwaizumi, but you like Kyoutani.

It’s like a lightbulb has flipped on over your head, but you know you’ve been silent for too long when movement catches your attention from the corner of your eyes and you turn to see Kyoutani’s legs beginning to impatiently fidget.

“I don’t like Iwaizumi.”

The conviction in your words startles both of you, but you continue on.

“I saw him spike a ball and my mind got carried away. That’s all.”

There’s so much left unsaid, so much implied and yet, somehow you know Kyoutani understands what you really mean when he abruptly stands up and reaches for both your school bags, carrying them on his shoulder as the two of you exit the classroom, an uncharacteristic softness in his next words.

“Yeah, he’s a pretty cool guy...for an upperclassman.”

No one pays any mind as the gym doors slam open at practice yet again, but heads turn when Kyoutani turns his back on Iwaizumi and makes his way towards Oikawa who’s curiously staring at the approaching second-year.

“I want to rejoin the volleyball team and I’m going to be the ace after Iwaizumi graduates.”

Chaos erupts as people choke on their water bottles, surprised and outraged exclamations and whispers flooding the space. But as irritating as Oikawa can be, you have to admit he’s always been good at finding and honing potential, at swaying people to his ways. And you beam in surprise and excitement as Kyoutani begins to warm-up with the team, stretching and jogging amongst a sea of teal.

You’re jolted back to attention when someone sits next to you, smiling at Iwaizumi who drinks some water as he observes Kyoutani.

“You have something to do with this?”

You balk at the hidden connotation of his words. As if you’d have any influence on stubborn, strong-willed Kyoutani who’s always done what he wants and you fervently shake your head side to side in denial.

“Me??? I’m just as surprised as you are. If he doesn’t even listen to you, what makes you think he’d even hear what I have to say-”

You’re silenced by the loud echo of your name being called, turning your head to the middle of the court where the team is lining up, getting ready to practice their spikes, looking at the second-year who’s scowling at you. (If Iwaizumi notices the way Kyoutani’s glare deepens when he notices the ace sitting so close to you, he wisely doesn’t bring it up.)

“Watch me spike.”

Your jaw drops at the demanding statement, indignation beginning to fester in you as you get ready to retort and tell him he can’t tell you what to do, let alone interrupt practice to order you around. But then you remember…

“I saw him spike a ball and my mind got carried away.”

There’s no way that’s why he’s…

And yet…

You clamp your mouth shut, eyes carefully watching as he bounds towards the net, leg muscles contracting and expanding as he leaps in the air, arm swinging overhead, a resounding smack filling the air as he slams the ball over the net. It’s mere seconds and yet it feels like eternity to you as Kyoutani eagerly whips his head towards you the second he lands back on the ground, making sure you were watching, You’re not sure how the gut-twisting awe and pride you feel translates onto your face, but it must if the slight upwards twitch of his lips are any indication as he makes his way towards the back of the line, getting ready to do it all over again

“Congratulations. I think you’ve officially bumped me down to number two on Kyoutani’s ‘people I give a shit about’ list.”

“Senpai, it’s not like that!”

“Yet. It’s not like that yet.”

There’s a pause as you can’t bring yourself to deny his words, something hopeful and nervous twining and entangling your beating heart at the heavy underlying meaning of Iwaizumi’s words. But you wince, crashing back to reality when a finger roughly pokes your forehead, any complaints dying on your tongue when you see the softest knowing look in green eyes.

“I’m happy for you and I wish the two of you all my best.”

To anyone else, they’re sweet words. That’s all. But you know better. You can see the official rejection of your unconfessed feelings in the way Iwaizumi carefully chooses his words. You can feel the acknowledgement of your past feelings for him in the way his hand gently, but firmly grips your shoulder in consolation and reassurance before he trudges back to practice himself.

Yet it doesn’t hurt the way you thought it would and as your heart bids a final fond farewell to the brown-haired, green-eyed protagonist of your past dreams, you turn to Kyoutani, ready to begin a new real adventure together.

[reogou]

It's Okay | kaminari.d

requested by: @softforshigi

genre: fluff

pairing: kaminari denki x fem!reader

warning/s: swearing

a/n: at last, i finished this ekfkrmgk i'm so sorry to zoe for answering so late 😭 but i hope you like this! this was requested on my main blog (@blurby) a few months ago and i only just had the time to finish this. i hope you don't mind me changing something in your request hehe. also, a big thanks to @kingtamakimurder for beta-reading this and to @oriheartlyngchu too for helping me!

"You know, Y/N's body isn't that hot. Though she has curves, she's more on the normal size. And they aren't my type."

You raised your chin from the mention of your name, making you halt on your steps. However, when those words sunk inside your head, you gritted your teeth and glared, you inside trembling from rage and disgust. You just arrived inside your classroom and here you are, hearing those disgusting remarks from Mineta early in the morning.

"Hey, Mineta. You shouldn't disrespect Y/N like that." Sero interjected. Clearly bothered from what Mineta is saying. The other boys also started worrying, the topic too much for their liking. Tokoyami tried to stop Mineta and lecture him about his behavior. Besides, he didn't want to be here in the first place, nor talk about girl's bodies. But before he could, an intense aura stopped them all from moving, except Mineta. 

"But her ass though. It's my favorite part even though-"

"M-mineta-" 

"Oh really?"

Mineta froze at his place and looked at you slowly. You sent him a death glare making him shiver and step back away from you. Taking a step forward and glaring at him even more, you gritted your teeth. 

You snapped.

"Most students already know how fucking disgusting you are, Mineta. But I didn't know that you could be even more disgusting. Gossiping about girl's body early in the morning, fat-shaming others who don't pass up your standards. Who the fuck are you to decide who is hotter, huh?"

You can see red in your eyes because of the intense rage you're feeling right now. It's not just because Mineta said you aren't hot. It's the fact that this has been going on for days, and the girls have shared their uneasiness whenever they heard Mineta talking and drooling over their body. It's the fact that he chooses who is hotter among the girls and bluntly saying it without shame, not even considering the girl's feelings and fat-shames everyone he finds fat and does not meet his standards. Those kinds of people are the stinkiest and just by thinking of them makes you sick.

"You know what? I've had enough of your crap. Fuck you, Mineta. Fuck you." Your voice stayed at a normal volume, but the cold tone and the emphasis of your words were enough for him to almost pass out before you sent him flying outside of your classroom. The rest of the boys was all frozen and jaw hanging because of what just happened.

-

The bell rang indicating that it's lunchtime already. After Present Mic dismissed all of you, the girls came up to you and invited you to eat lunch together.

"Hmm... what do you all want to eat today?" Uraraka asked, turning around just to see all of you who was behind her.

"I want to eat curry noodles today." Jiro turned to you and asked you. "How about you, Y/N?"

You were too focused on your thoughts that you didn't hear Jiro asking you.

"Y/N?" Jiro asked once again but gained no response from you.

"Hey, Y/N!" Mina tapped your shoulder making you jolt. You blinked numerous times before looking at them, confusion evident in your eyes. 

"H-huh?" You stuttered. "What were you saying?" Mina sighed at your response. You're clearly out of it. It's rare to see you zone out, especially during a break. 

"You okay, Y/N?" Jiro asked. She placed a hand on your shoulder to somehow help you calm down. "You're acting weird today. Is everything alright? Are you okay?"

Uraraka put her hands on your forehead to check your temperature. But your temperature is normal. Nothing's wrong. So why were you zoning out a while ago?

"Guys, it's nothing. I'm just thinking of something." You gave them a reassuring smile, trying to make them see that you're really okay. Although it was impossible to believe your smile, the girls just let you be. Maybe you just need a rest. "By the way, I'll be staying at the library, okay? Need to study for the test later! Bye!" And with that, you dash off.

Mina exhaled, hands rubbing the back of her head while looking at you running away. "Something's really bothering Y/N, don't you think?" She looked over the two girls beside her, both watching your silhouette disappear. 

"I wonder if something happened this morning. They got into a fight with each other?" Uraraka placed her fingers on her chin, thinking if there was a fight that happened recently between you and Denki, your boyfriend. 

"I'm just hoping everything will be okay after." Jiro could only wish for the best. If only you'll just say what's happening then maybe they could help you somehow. 

As if on cue, an idea popped inside Mina's head, a smile appearing in her face. "I know! What if we ask Kaminari if they fought yesterday? That way, we can cheer Y/N up if they really fought!" 

"But don't you think that's an intrusion of their privacy? After all, it's their relationship. It's none of our business." Uraraka spoke, a little nervous to mingle with your love life. However, Jiro tapped her shoulders, encouraging her that's it's okay. "Besides, do you want to see Y/N sad and bothered?"

Uraraka shook her head almost immediately. She definitely doesn't want to see you so down. After all, you're her best friend. Seeing your disheartened face is the last thing she wants. 

"No. Of course not." Mina smiled at Uraraka's answer before she beamed at the two girls. 

"Then it's settled! We're going to go find and ask Kaminari if he fought with Y/N!" 

"Ask what now?" A voice reached the three's ears, the plan on finding Kaminari already finished because standing behind them were Bakugou, Sero, Kirishima, and of course, Kaminari, their target. Before Jiro and Uraraka could say anything, Mina already encircled her arms around Kaminari's neck, making the yellow-haired boy crouch down a bit.

"Woah! Woah!" Kaminari raised an arm in front of Mina when they almost fell down the pavement. "Hold up, Mina! Don't drag me!" 

"Oi, what's this?" Bakugou said, sporting his signature look. With his eyebrows furrowed and his lips on a grim line, he glared at Mina who's still choking Kaminari inside her arms. "Hey! Answer me, extras!"

"Great timing, Kaminari!" Mina exclaimed, ignoring Bakugou's remark. "We were just about to ask you something important." 

Still confused, Kaminari looked at Jiro, asking for help. The girl crossed her arms and spoke. "Did you get into a fight with Y/N?"

Upon hearing those words, Kaminari froze. Not because it's true, but because he's utterly confused now. Fight? As far as he knows, you two were still okay. In fact, your weekly date is just a few hours from now, scheduled for tomorrow morning. So where did this accusation came from?

"What? Fight? Me and Y/N? Of course not! Why would we fight?" Kaminari said, his brows scrunched up, clueless of what's going on. 

"Huh? Kaminari and Y/N didn't get into a fight, Jiro. They even walked to the school together this morning." Kirishima interjects. 

At this turn of event, it was the girl's turn to be confused. Mina stopped choking Kaminari's neck, letting go while Kaminari catches his breath. The girls present were confused. If you two didn't fight, then why are you so down today?

"Why would we even fight? We're totally okay." Kaminari spoke once again, eyeing the three girls as they fidget. "Did something happened to Y/N?" 

"No…," Uraraka said, her voice coming out as a whisper as she looked down on her school shoes, unable to look at the yellow-haired boy. "I mean…we don't know…she seems so down today and we got worried so we were going to find you to ask you if something happened. But it turns out that even you don't know so…"

Upon hearing those words, Kaminari's eyes went wide at the news of you being so down. And the fact that you showed it at school made his heart beat fast. 

He knows you. He knows you all too well. You were a bubbly person to everyone. You never showed your weaknesses to the public and even to your friends. You kept it all inside you. But when you two started dating, you learned how to open up to him. He saw how broken you were, how low your self-esteem is. So different from the Y/N everyone knew. However, showing your downside to the public has always been a no-no to you. You always wanted to hide your pain from others, even from your closest friends, and only showed it to Kaminari. Because you love him and the amount of trust you both have with each other is too immense. 

"I think I know why Y/N is sad." At last, Sero spoke. In a span of seconds, all eyes were on him instantly. The amount of attention he got was too intense, added by the guilt he felt, so his hands reached the back of his neck and started rubbing it, hoping to ease his nerves as he looked down. 

"This morning…" He swallowed the lump on his throat before he continued. "Mineta and I, along with the other boys, were talking about our preferences on girls. It was chill, the conversation was going smooth. But out of nowhere, Mineta started talking about the girl's bodies and how he doesn't like Y/N's body that much-" Before he can even finish his sentences, Kaminari saw blood and went feral at what he heard. 

"He did what?!" He shouted, his voice booming on the hallways. He's mad. He's pissed. How dare that grape juice dares to say those words in front of you.  How dare he hurt his princess. Kaminari ran towards the rooftop where he knows where you are before anyone can stop him. 

"Kaminari!"

-

Meanwhile, you placed your arms on the cold metal of the rooftop's fence, your hair blowing with the winds. You couldn't care less about what you look like. All you can think of was the incident this morning. It's not about that grape's face not liking your body. Heck, you don't even care who he likes or not. But the thought of the other girls having to experience that kind of body shaming sent you over the edge. You can't take it. You can't afford to experience all that misery again. You don't want to feel useless again. 

As if on cue, the memories from your middle school came crashing back at you, making your heart clench. You remember it all so clearly as if it only happened seconds ago. The pain also came back. The pain of losing a friend that you love so dearly just because of some useless asshole that doesn't have a life. When you looked down, you imagined vividly the scenes from 2 years ago. Your friend, cutting her own life because of intense fat shaming. 

You're too deep of your thoughts that you didn't notice the tears that run down to your cheeks and the sound of the door opening. You only knew that someone was also there with you when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, hot breath fanning on your neck. Panic runs down your senses but before you can even lift a finger at the person behind you, he spoke.

"It's me, baby. It's me. I'm here." 

At the sound of his voice, you immediately turned around and hugged him back, your face buried on his coat as you bawled your eyes out. 

"There, there," Kaminari whispered on your ears, hands brushing your hair in an attempt to soothe you. "It's okay, baby. I'm here. It's me. You can let it all out. Show me your vulnerable side and let me comfort you, okay?" You cried even more, not minding how broken and vulnerable you are in front of him. 

When you finally calmed down a bit, Kaminari pushed you softly away from him to see your face, which was now all wet (as well as his coat) and eyes so red. He wiped your tears away with the sleeve of his coat and smiled softly at you. 

“You okay now, princess?” You nodded, still sniffling while wiping your tears too. You felt okay now. The burden in your heart slowly disappearing. All because of Kaminari's presence. All thanks to him. 

It always have been like this, comforting each other without any words said. It's like there's a link between the both of you where you both just know how the other feels, or when they need. No words exchange, just comforting each other through a hug. And you like it. You love it. There's no other thing in this world greater than the love and trust you both have with each other. 

[morgana-ren]

I noticed youd said that you get more shiggy requests. So, if you'll indulge me for a sec.

We've had gatos input on how strade would be if the roles were reversed. Mc somehow had him under their control with the shock collar on.

I want your input because your writing is so detailed i know id enjoy reading what a submissive little bitch he'd become.

Please and thank you Morgana.

ily :3

Oh OH You know me so well! This is one of my favorite things to daydream about when I get angry or annoyed because since Strade is such a garbage human being, it tickles me so much to think about how cathartic it would be to turn the tables.

So as well all know, Strade, while very experienced, is not the brightest bulb in the box. He’s got years of know-how behind his expertise in kidnapping and torture, but there’s some shit that just kind of evades him sometimes. Double checking your ropes after he gets a little too excited and wants a dirty basement floor romp, for example. Thanks to his overexcitement and shit-idiot brain fungus he’s got going on, it’s entirely possible for you to slip your bonds. This mistake, in canon, costs him his life. 

But what if MC wasn’t so kind? 

With a level head, you might be able to scrounge around his torture room for a little bit. Maybe he has a needle with some knockout liquid hanging around for “difficult” catches. Maybe you just wait around behind the door until he walks in and smash him on the head as hard as you can and knock his ass out. Either way, he’s got plenty of restraints, and now he’s the one cuffed to a rusty pole. The look on his dumb face when he comes to is priceless. 

You’re not making the same mistakes he did. He’s triple tied to that thing. You know he’s strong, and you’re playing on his home field. You’ve got to be prepared for everything. At least long enough to get upstairs and find help or call the police. Right? Right? 

But what if you don’t?

What if, after he comes to and is sputtering and howling and hissing things at you in German that would make Lindemann blush, you decide not to go for help? He’s mad. He’s oh so very mad. He does not like this, not one bit. But he’s panicking beyond what you’d expect, even for a serial killer who’s been two-timed by his own victim. There’s something else in those dilated eyes. Something you’ve become very acutely familiar with over the last few days. You can still smell it lingering on you the same way it’s staining his shirt now. 

Fear. He’s afraid. And not of death or capture. 

I mean, he very well might be terrified of those things, but whatever it is he’s feeling right now is far overshadowing that. His face is red, and you can practically see the veins in his neck popping in rhythm with his thrumming heartbeat. He’s sweating extensively, and while that’s not uncommon for him, there’s not that macabre jolly smile plastered across his face. He’s baring his teeth and snapping at you like a feral hound, swearing to end your miserable life in a manner that would make the ghosts of his past shudder in horror for you. 

You don’t put it past him to snap these ropes any second and wrap his hands so tightly around your neck that your eyes pop like overinflated balloons. Even if the cops show up and try to escort you to safety, there’s an unspoken darkness in his glare, something that promises pain in your future even if they manage to subdue him. A promise that you can’t guarantee yourself that he can’t keep.

It strikes you that you know nothing about this man.

Surely someone out there knows about this. Someone knows about him and his little hobby. Monsters run in packs and even if you can’t see them, you know they must be there. Best case scenario, they can’t have him spilling their secrets so they find a way to end his life before the police can. Worst case scenario?  Worst case, they come for you. 

You’ve seen enough Hollywood horror movies to know just how wrong it can go if justice is left to the authorities. You haven’t seen much of it, but this looks like a pretty nice house. If he has money, he can just buy his way out. Who is to say that he doesn’t already have a deal with the cops? Kidnapping people is risky business, especially when folks begin to notice that you’re gone. Surely he has some safety net? 

What if he’s part of a network of psychopaths? There’s been enough late-night conspiracy youtube binges in your existence to know that shit like that is perfectly plausible. What if he’s just one of many? What if they have the pull to see him set free even after you’ve gone through the proper avenues to get him locked away? What if, one night, when you think he’s rotting in a 6 x 6 cement cell miles away from you, you wake up back here in this basement with even more Strades with different names and faces but each one shares the desire to see you ripped apart at the seams and devoured?

No. HELL no. You’re not going to be the cliche victim. He can bark and screech at you until his throat is sore and his gums bleed, but the plain and simple fact of the matter is that you have this monster on a leash, and you’re not about to hand that leash over to someone else. 

How many people has he killed? How many have met their end in this godless basement? How many unsuspecting people has he dragged here only to take them apart piece by piece until their eyes glaze and their final breath moistens his cheek as he watches the light in their eyes extinguish? Do you even want to know? Would it make you feel better or worse to know that, at least for now, you’ve narrowly escaped such a fate? 

You have to know. 

His screaming turns fearful as you ascend the stairs. Again, not for fear of being caught, but because he already has been. It’s so odd to hear the phrase “Don’t leave me here!” from his quivering chest when he’s apparently in the place he values most, and there’s a sick sense of catharsis that settles in your gut as you listen to him begin to whimper and whine. You don’t let yourself dwell on it but you do slam the door behind you loudly enough that he will be forced to acknowledge that his pathetic pleas mean nothing to you. 

His house is painfully average, at least for someone like him. He’s even got portraits up with what must be friends or family or someone that cares enough to pose for a cheesy photo with him. If you didn’t know better, you’d say an upstanding, if a little tacky, upper-middle class man lives here. The furniture is unremarkable and well cared for but lived in enough to not raise suspicion. His kitchen is filled with expensive appliances that might as well be fresh out of the box. His fridge, as expected, is filled with beer and various quick meals. Not much of a cook, you guess.

The car sitting in the garage costs in the six digit range and looks like it’s the most beloved thing in the entire area. It reeks of Armor All and disinfectant, and you’re willing to bet that if he was so inclined, he could put it on a showroom floor right now. He’s got tools and cables of all sorts thrown about, but not the kind you’ve gotten so used to. Maybe he actually does use them for their intended purpose sometimes. 

As you walk the length of his home, you notice a distinct lack of screaming. You can’t hear anything, not even a peep from the basement, and you are very certain he’s crying up a storm down there. Interesting. He’s go this place sound proofed. You’re not sure what you’d expected, but it’s good information to have regardless. 

After you’ve sated your curiosity by observing the dragon’s den, you make your way to the upper level. He’s probably not foolish enough to leave any sort of evidence behind where friends and neighbors can see it, so whatever it is you’re looking for is going to be somewhere a little bit more personal. Perhaps like a bedroom? 

Bingo. 

His bedroom, much like the rest of his house, looks about what you’d expect. King sized bed, wooden dresser with a TV and player on top, and a desk beneath the window. Sliding closet doors with all manner of free range dad apparel inside, and honestly, it’s the closest you’ve been to laughing since you got here. He would wear cargo shorts and plaid, wouldn’t he? A scrounge through the drawers of his dresser and closet reveal nothing remarkable, but you’re willing to bet your injured thigh that there’s something special in the desk. 

Just like you’d expect, the desk is locked, but you’d noticed a pair of keys sitting willy-nilly out in the living room and you’d picked them up. About 7 key changes later and the desk pops open for you like a cheap whore. He really isn’t too bright, is he? Or maybe he just wasn’t expecting this to ever be a problem. Either way, you’re grateful he’s a moron. 

Inside the drawer seems to be loads of DVDs, unmarked except for dates. It feels like you’re the unprepared cop in a serial killer movie as you look down at them. You don’t need to watch them to know what they are, but you’re going to anyway. You have to know. You need to know just who you’re dealing with here. 

You pick one at random and pop it into the DVD player and the scene that greets you seems all too familiar. A hunched figure, bloodied and tied to the pole you’d become so intimate with over the last week. This person was in much worse shape than you, however. You could see shadows moving off screen and the camera fuzzes and refocuses repeatedly as what you assume is Strade messes with the controls. Not long after, he emerges, practically skipping into frame. Even though most of his face is concealed behind a hideous bandana, you can tell he’s smiling. It reaches his eyes. 

He says what appears to be a rehearsed greeting and you’re left wondering just how crazy is he? Is he talking to his future self? You can see him making these videos to relive his sick, sadistic fantasies but talking to himself like an absolute lunatic is just a little disconcerting. However, you also acknowledge that the only reason you’ve even thinking about this is to distract yourself from the fact that you’re watching a homemade snuff film that you almost starred in yourself. 

And then he begins. 

Despite the visceral horror on display before you, the urge to vomit never comes. You watch, blank faced, as this poor soul is faced with every horror a human mind can conceive. It goes on for long. Too long. And Strade never stops talking. 

The realization sets in that’s because he’s not the only one watching. 

He’s not talking to himself. He’s responding. This wasn’t for him. This was for them. 

If you had any emotional energy to give, surely you’d be absolutely horrified, but you don’t and you can’t. You’re not even surprised. Someone like Strade, that bubbly personality and 1,000 watt smile, of course he’d find a way to utilize his talents. He’d found a market. He had a hobby and he made money from it. ‘Love your job and you’ll never work a day in your life.’ and you are just so willing to bet he loves his fucking job. 

You let the video keep playing as you sit up from his bed and leave the room. You make your way down the stairs, back to the living room, and then back to the basement door. You open it and immediately are bombarded with the sounds of his screaming and hateful vitriol. It doesn’t phase you. You’re not sure anything will ever again. 

Calmly, you walk into the room and stare at him. He doesn’t cease his incessant threats until he realizes you’re waiting for him to finish so that you can speak. He finally silences himself, though he continues to rip and tear at the ropes holding him hostage as you tell him you found his little home video collection. 

“Let me out.” He demands, and you realize he doesn’t quite understand that he’s not the one in control anymore. Of course a dog without a tangible leash will continue to run wild. You needed to drive the point home. 

You turn your back to him and begin to ruffle through his various cabinets, searching around the nooks and crannies for something that will help him understand just what position he’s found himself in. You make a very interesting discovery next to his med kit. A collar. A literal collar. 

Poetic justice. 

It’s thick and burdensome and more than a little hideous. It’s definitely homemade, because not even the most fucked of BDSM sites are going to offer something like this. It’s accompanied by a small remote with a large red button and not much else. You push the button and yelp in pain, the collar clattering to the floor as it slips from your fingers. It shocked you. It was so very painful, but you’re smiling. 

You retrieve it from where it fell and pop it open, observing it curiously. Strade watches you through wide eyes and sniveling, trembling lips. The look on his face is a dead giveaway that you’ve found something you really shouldn’t have. The toothy grin you flash him shows him that you understand that. 

Without a word, you approach him, holding the open collar in your sweating palm. His struggles begin anew and before long he’s practically yanking his arms out at the sockets trying to get away from you and your newfound toy. He’s throwing his weight around and doing whatever he can with his limited movements to make damn sure you can’t get that terrible thing around his neck, but it’s all in vain because energy is finite and he’s been expending a lot of it over the last hour. 

He’s breathing heavy and you could swear he’s begging between heaves as you clap the collar around his thick neck. His flesh bulges from the side and you’re fairly certain it was made for someone much less burly than himself in mind. You get the odd urge to adjust it on him like a necklace but he’s still dangerous, even caged. You feel weirdly... proud.

“Stop-! you don’t know what you’re doing!” He hiccups, and as he pulls his head upward, you can see he is indeed crying. “Please! Don’t!” 

You’ve never thought of yourself as particularly sadistic, at least in that sense, but some ghostly force pushes your thumb down on that big red button. Watching his eyes go wide and his body convulse and seize fills you with a sense of sheer euphoria that can’t properly be conveyed. The utterly satisfying clang of his head hitting the pole at mach 5 as he shakes and bumbles almost humorously while the collar sends x amount of volts through his body makes you giggle. 

When you finally pull your thumb off the button, he’s still shaking from the residual shock, drool and mucus bubbling from his mouth and nose and sloping down onto his chin. He looks defeated; utterly pathetic. Is this how you looked to him all those times he stood over you grinning as he gifted you pain the likes of which had been unthinkable to you before you met him? The desire to push down again is overwhelming but you’re determined for him to understand there’s a point to this misery. 

There’s a thousand thoughts going through your mind right now faster than you can comprehend them all, but they all have the same general principal. This man is a murderer. This man is a rapist. This man is contained. This man is afraid. This man is at your mercy. 

And unfortunately for him, you just ran out. 

‘How many’ you ask, despite already knowing. If the videos upstairs are any indication, there’s more than he can probably count. More names and faces than he can practically remember and they’re dead because of him. He looks up at you through wet lashes with a trembling lip, already caught on to the fact that there is no correct answer. Your thumb hovers over that seductive red button and he’s quick to spit out whatever he can regardless. 

“I don’t know! I don’t!” 

You don’t doubt that he’s being honest, but it sickens you none he less. You press that button for half a second and he jolts up off the floor as much as his restraints will allow. When he comes to, his eyes can barely focus in on you and when his slumps over, you can see the burns from the collar already settling in on his tan skin. You’re not sure how to turn down the voltage or how lethal it is, but you don’t really care at the moment. If he dies, he dies. You’ll deal with the complications of that later. 

You could sit here all day and grill him, literally and figuratively, about his track record of atrocities, but it won’t bring you any peace. You’re not sure that peace is something that you’ll ever feel again, all things considered. Meeting the monsters that dwell in the dark is drastically different than simply acknowledging that they exist, and through some twist of fate, you’ve been given the opportunity to show this particular monster that he’s no longer at the top of the food chain. There’s so much you could do, so many things you want to do, and it’s at that moment you realize you’ve spent too long staring into the abyss to try and claw your way out. 

You’re being offered the chance they never were. You’re holding the controls now. He’s already crying and you’ve barely touched him, barely done anything besides shock him a little. You remember that feeling well. If you recall, you were already crying before he put that knife to your thigh on your first day with him. 

Truth is, you decided the second he fell unconscious what you were going to do. 

Maybe a revenge like this isn’t yours to take, but you’re taking it regardless. For yourself, and for every sorry sap that’s met their end in his cement hellhole. They died for you to have this opportunity, and you’d like to think that maybe they’re there with you in this moment. Even if you never knew them, you feel a strange kinship with them. After all, it was almost you. 

He continues to babble underneath his breath, various pleas for mercy or sympathy or any form of compassion you can muster from your still aching body, and though you desperately wish you did, you can’t find any. You’re certain when you look in the mirror next, it won’t be your own eyes looking back at you anymore, but something closer to his. Maybe you did die in this basement, because whoever you were before you met him is long gone and has been replaced with something so much more empty. 

You explain to him, as gently as you can, that it’s your turn now, and his resistance will only make this harder. You don’t delight in seeing him in pain (whether or not that’s a lie has yet to be determined) but it’s a necessary evil for all he’s done. You don’t believe his life is yours to take, but you’d be as terrible as him if you let him loose on the world again. You can’t trust anyone but yourself, and since this situation is so delicate, you need a bit more time to think on it. 

He doesn’t seem to understand, at least until you’re binding his legs and securing his head snuggly to the pole. Maybe it’s overkill considering the man looks like he belongs in a shibari magazine right now, but there’s no precautions you can’t take. You can’t have him escaping. It’s far too soon, and you have such wonderful things planned. 

Were you a kinder soul, maybe you would put him to sleep because it’s so apparent he’s terrified. Being bound like this has really brought out his inner little bitch, and the way he’s looking, he’s going to piss himself. But its a price it’s only fair that he pay, all things considered. You don’t know what time it is or even where you are, but you know you’ll return to him when you’ve been rejuvenated, eager and ready to begin on him. You’re only a few steps toward the door when he begins shouting, words barely discernible between his emphatic weeping and sobbing hiccups. 

“D-don’t leave me here in the dark! Let me go, let me out! You can’t! You can’t leave me here like this!”  You grin softly, turning slowly to face him, and tell him that you can and you will. You ask what he’s so afraid of, but you don’t wait to hear the answer as you step through the frame and shut the door behind you, leaving him to rot in his personal dungeon. It’s only been an hour and he’s already so pliable. You wonder what you can make him do when you really make it hurt. Psychology says it takes 7 years to brainwash someone and coerce them into absolute compliance, but you’re willing to bet you can have it done in a few months. 

You already know one of his fears, and are very clearly not ashamed to exploit it. How many else does he have, you might wonder, already planning tomorrow’s festivities. Maybe you were sicker in the head than you thought. Maybe Strade just brought out the worst in you, stripped away all that made you human and left you with raw hurt and despair. 

It’s tempting. To give in. To sit and massage your aching body while listening to his screams as they echo through the soundproofed basement. But you’re tired, and you haven’t slept in a bed in over a week. His looked awfully nice. Maybe after that, you’d wash the dried blood from your battered body, order some food, and appreciate the niceties that civilized life had to offer. Niceties you took for granted. 

After that?  Well, after that you had a new pet to train. 

[archadianskies]

wingspan

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Monday Day 1: Post-Apocalypse •  Sacrifice; Hank Anderson/Rose Chapman TLOU AU

“Alice needs medicine.” It’s said in a whispered hush, paired with nervous glances over at the feverish child labouring in bed. “Her coughs are wet and her chest sounds congested.”

“Adam’s still about a week out from being able to drive back here,” Rose chews her lip, shaking her head. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Hank shrugs, “I’ll make the exchange by myself.”

“No!” Her voice is stern, her gaze even moreso but she knows it won’t dissuade him. They both know this has to be done.

“Make the call. Luther can help me load up the truck and I’ll go.”

“Hank-” Kara, sweet Kara with anguish on her face weighing her down, wearier and wearier with a sick child already. 

“I’ll get it done, for your little girl,” he pats her hand and there’s conflict mixed with her gratitude. “Luther will keep everyone safe here while I’m gone.”

*  

They’re easing into winter and they all know if he doesn’t go now, there won’t be a chance later when the roads are covered in snow. Doesn’t mean Rose is any more comfortable with the plan, not when the world isn’t what it was and every single day they’re out here they know they’re all on a knife’s edge.

“The cold slows them down,” Hank tries to placate and she raises one brow and he drops that line and goes for another. “I’ll be careful.”

“You better,” Rose says firmly and eases the beanie on his head. “North’s making the drop this time.”

“Doubly, extra triple careful then,” he mutters. North’s tempestuous at the best of times, so Hank knows there won’t be any casual banter or interesting snippets of news exchanged with the goods. 

Usually Josh is the one he meets with, sometimes Simon, and on that one occasion which he still is half-convinced never happened- Markus himself turned up. Jericho is one of the largest communities flourishing in the aftermath and has a functioning hospital, and the Chapman farm has, well, fresh vegetables and poultry. It’s a good relationship in this hellscape, one that gives him hope for a future.    

 *  

“Truck’s all loaded,” Luther thumps the hatch as Hank makes his way over. “If you leave now you’ll make it back before nightfall. I’ll keep an eye on the house, I promise.”

Hank claps his shoulder. “Thanks Luther, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“Thank you,” the man murmurs, his voice more like a deep rumble in that broad chest. “Thank you for doing this for us.”

“Hey, I’d do anything for her,” it’s the goddamn truth and he isn’t too proud to admit it. “I’d do anything for any of you.”

“Be safe,” Luther squeezes his arm. “It’s your turn to read to Alice tonight, remember?”

“Wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

*  

He pulls out of the driveway, sparing Luther one last glance in the rearview mirror before it’s just him and the road and all the thoughts he tries so desperately to keep at bay. It’s been ten years since the outbreak, ten whole years since that cursed day he held Cole as his son bled out in his arms. It’s been nearly five years since Rose Chapman found him, half mad with grief and nearly feral with hunger yet too stubborn to die. 

He doesn’t really remember the years between Cole’s death and him wandering onto the outskirts of Rose’s farm. She’d saved him, continues to save him day in and day out because he has a purpose here, he matters here, and there are people here he’d kill to protect. 

Once the initial wave was over, once the violence cannibalised itself, people did what people do best- they come together, they rebuild, they reconcile, they strive forward. It doesn’t mean it’s completely safe, it doesn’t mean it’s all smooth sailing, but Hank can see a future now where he couldn’t see one before. 

 *~*  

There’s three kids walking along the tree line; it’s a blink and miss situation, but he definitely didn’t miss it. Three kids, all alone, heading somewhere but nowhere close enough they’ll make it by nightfall. Ah shit. Hank pulls over and the kids are smart enough to dart for cover.

“You kids alright?” He takes out his gun and sweeps his gaze around, trying to spot any infected who might be lurking nearby. 

“We’re alright!” One of them calls out.

“Shut up Connor!” One of them hushes the one named Connor.

“It’s only a couple of hours until sundown and there’s no camp you can reach safely on foot in time,” Hank approaches slowly, keeping his voice low. He sees them now, all three of them, skinny boys in ill fitting clothing with backpacks too big for them. 

One of them has a bandaid stuck to an old crusted wound right in the middle of his forehead. The other has a bandage wrapped around his forearm, brown with age. And the last one is pointing a gun at him.

“We said we are alright.” The one holding a gun says icily. He can’t be more than ten, yet the look in his eyes says everything; the boy has been through things a ten year old shouldn’t have, but then the same could be said about most children in this hellscape.

“Two of you are hurt. I’m going to Jericho and-”

“Jericho?” The one named Connor perks up. “We’re going to Jericho!”

“Shut up Connor!” The other says exasperatedly, and Hank can see they’re identical twins with the only difference to be found in their expressions.   

“I can take you there. Plenty of room in the truck.”

“What will it cost us?” The one with the gun demands, and Hank shakes his head.

“Nothin’. I just don’t want you boys out here all alone, especially once it gets dark and the temperature plummets,” he tries to reason with them, but can’t fault them for their caution. 

“We managed to make camp just fine,” one of the twins says stubbornly but Hank can see it, can see that small hopeful expression he’s trying so desperately to mask.

“I’m sure you did, and I’m sure you can tonight. You just shouldn’t have to, that’s all,” he gestures at his truck. “This way’s pretty deserted but Jericho’s much safer and the truck’s much faster than going on foot. What do you say?”

“If you try something funny, Ronan will shoot you,” the stubborn twin threatens, and Hank nods.

“Alright.”

 * 

It’s a tight squeeze but three boys under ten are about the size of one grown man so it spares Hank the effort of rearranging the produce on the back. There’s a blanket Kara crocheted on one of the seats, and he tucks it over them and doesn’t miss the way they snuggle closer, huddling for warmth. 

“Is Jericho nice? How long have you lived there?” Connor asks after a while.

“Jericho is very nice. It’s big and safe and there’s other kids in there too,” Hank explains, “but I don’t live there. I live on a farm down the other way, and we supply vegetables and chickens to them in exchange for meds and materials and shi- stuff.”

“You’re making an exchange now?” The one named Ronan asks quietly, the gun still held tightly in his hands now resting on his lap.

“Yeah, uh, Alice, a little girl about your age, she’s sick,” Hank spares them a glance. “Her cough’s getting pretty bad so we’re hoping to get some meds to help.”

“Maybe they’ll have something for me there?” Connor says so softly Hank barely hears him.

“Are you sick? What do you think you need? I’m sure they’ll have it there.”

“You’re not sick!” The other twin hisses, and Connor huffs stubbornly.

“That’s the problem Sean, and maybe that’s why I need help!”

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Hank looks over at them and both boys click their jaws shut and refuse to meet his gaze. 

“It’s fine,” Ronan says, the ice back in his tone. “We just need to get to Jericho.”

*   

They spend the rest of the drive in silence, and Hank’s glad when the large gates loom up on the horizon. He doesn’t drive up to the main entrance, but takes a side road and stops the truck by a clearing where there’s another car waiting.

“Hey Hank,” the redhead greets with a lazy wave, leaning against the trunk.

“Hey North,” he nods respectfully as he kills the engine and hops out.

“Oh,” she blinks in surprise, “new survivors?”

“Yeah I picked ‘em up on the way,” Hank gestures over at them before busying himself with removing the tarp over the cargo. “They were headed this way so I thought I’d get ‘em here safely.”

“Doc will want to check them over,” North looks at the boys and Connor is the only one who offers a wave. “It’s just protocol of course.”

“They’ll need her help anyway- Sean has that wound on his forehead and Connor has the bandage on his arm,” Hank looks over his shoulder at the boys. “Blood looks old but it can’t hurt to give it a once over and a dressing change.”

“And the other one who looks ready to murder me?”

“That’s Ronan. He’s holding a gun.”

“Clever boy,” North smirks, coming around to the driver’s side and peeking in through the open door. “You boys want to come stay here with us, you have to get checked by the Doc first okay?”

“Okay,” they chorus obediently and Hank finds himself grinning helplessly. 

“Got the meds and some honest to god wool yarn for Kara,” North informs him as she loads up a crate onto the back. “Otto farm about six hours away made the exchange and I kept a couple of skeins for her.”

“She’ll love that, thanks North,” he pats the crate happily. “And we all profit it from it, so…”

“It’s more an investment than a gift,” she grins before beckoning to the brothers. “Alright kiddos let’s go. Come in and grab a coffee Hank, while the guys unload the rest and refuel.”

“You’re a saint, thanks.”

 *~*  

Jericho is a nice place. It’s a really really nice place. It’s full of life and learning and healing. No matter how hard others try to take this place for themselves, no matter how much violence they try and inflict, the sheer resilience of its people keeps the place running. That, and well, having nearly an entire SWAT team complete with a Captain in residence can’t hurt. 

Far better, kinder, saner team than the rabid FBI team led by Prickins from a few years back who tried to destroy Jericho and take it for themselves. The whole debacle saw over half of Jericho burned to the ground and dozens slaughtered. 

It’s when he and Rose took in Kara and her family, because the sheer trauma was too much for Alice to process and she could never return. Adam stayed on as a nurse and found his calling. It feels like a lifetime ago too.

*   

He takes his coffee over to the little clinic at the side entrance where newcomers are screened because he wants to make sure the boys are alright.

“This is a burn,” Adam frowns as he inspects the wound on Sean’s forehead. “How did you get this?” 

The boy doesn’t answer, looking over nervously as doctor Anthea unwraps the bandage from Connor’s arm.

“Oh my god-”

“Fuck!” The expletive leaves his mouth before he can stop himself.

“It’s three weeks old we swear!” Connor cries, nursing his arm to his chest, tears in his eyes. “It’s three weeks old!”

Before Hank can comment any further he’s being slammed to the wall, North placing a gun under his jaw. “You brought a fucking kid with a bite into Jericho and expected to leave him here?!”

“I didn’t-”

“He didn’t know!” Ronan shouts, clenching his trembling hands into fists. “We didn’t tell him in case he left us behind!”

“He should’ve left you behind!” North growls.

“It’s old,” Anthea raises her voice. “The teeth indentations have healed over. This is new scar tissue right here.” She’s gently tracing the mark on Connor’s arm, the boy’s bottom lip trembling as tears spill down his cheeks.

“How the fuck is that possible?” North steps away and lowers her gun, too shocked to be angry now it seems. “Everyone who’s ever been bitten turns after eight hours at the most.”

“He must be immune, then,” Anthea smiles in disbelief as she smooths Connor’s hair away from his face. “You are one of a kind, Connor.”

“We keep him in holding overnight,” North declares, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just to be sure.”

“No, you keep us together!” Sean spits, fuming at the mere suggestion of separation.

“I don’t have time for that, I have to get back to Alice!” Hank argues and North cocks her brow.

“No one’s asking you to stay, Hank, you can go.”

“Bullshit! I’m not letting you lock up these kids outside of Jericho’s walls!”

“You can go, you got us to Jericho, you don’t need to do anything else!” Ronan adds and oh Hank can see it, Hank can see the fear of being left alone in those big grey eyes. 

“I’ll go, I know the way,” Adam offers, holding his hand out for the keys. “It’s my home, after all. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“I’ll spend the night in holding, then,” Hank nods as he hands over the keys to the truck. “Tell Alice I’m sorry I’ll miss storytime.”

“You spend the night in holding,” North orders as takes his gun from the table and presses it back into his hand, “and you put him down yourself if he turns.”

“And then us too,” Ronan says in a voice so steady, so resigned for a child. “If you shoot him, you have to shoot us too.”

“It won’t come to that,” Hank says firmly.

“For everyone’s sake, I hope you’re right,” Anthea runs her fingers over the bite on Connor’s arm again before gently thumbing away his tears. “I guess we shall see in the morning, hm?”

* 

The holding area must have been a security control room at some point. It’s now been caged by wire completely, with a chained and padlocked gate. He must be losing what little sanity he has left, but at least he’s not losing his compassion. No way in hell he’s about to abandon three boys to an uncertain fate, no matter how brave they’re trying to be.

“You could’ve gone back to the farm,” Ronan points out as Connor curls up on the lumpy mattress under the covers with his twin.

“Yeah I know,” Hank shrugs, nursing his coffee mug. Simon had left them with provisions to last the night, including a large thermos of coffee because he’s an angel in this apocalyptic hellscape. 

“What if we’re lying and Connor turns and kills you?” Sean demands, though it’s not so effective given Connor’s clinging to him tiredly. 

“Then I’d die,” Hank offers them the soup thermos. “Alice is still getting her medicine tonight, so that’s perfectly fine.”

“Don’t you have family at the farm?” Ronan accepts the thermos and pours out a cupful, handing it straight to Connor. 

“Losing me won’t be that big a loss for them.”

“That’s a lie! Everyone has someone who’d miss them!” Connor shouts, nearly spilling the soup in his outburst. Hank admits defeat there. Rose would miss him, he thinks, because she’s all heart and soul. 

She took him in when he was a husk of a man and together with Adam they toiled and tilled the land, took in every broken survivor and sent them on their way to Jericho with a full belly and provisions to spare. And Hank shot anyone who ever dared to raise their hand against Rose because people like that, greedy fuckers who want to take and take, have no place in this new world. 

“What happened to you boys out there? What happened three weeks ago?” It’s The Question and no one seems to want to answer it. 

“We wanted to go to the stream to see the fish,” Ronan eventually starts quietly. “We snuck out because Amanda didn’t give her permission.”

“It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have insisted,” Connor stares into the soup as if it could offer comfort. “I just really wanted to see them.”

“We didn’t see the infected one until it was too late and it bit Connor,” Ronan reaches over to hold his hand. “We tried to hide it but it was bleeding a lot and Amanda heard us in the bathroom getting the first aid kit.”

There’s a pause and Hank realises Sean hasn’t said a single word, resolutely avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

“She dragged Connor out the back and-” Ronan falters, pressing his lips into a tight line as he darts a look at Sean. “She gave Sean a gun and told him to shoot Connor as punishment for sneaking out.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hank swears, recoiling in horror and it makes sense now; the small burn mark on his forehead is from the shell casing hitting him.

“She made you do it, Sean, I don’t hate you!” 

“Well you should!” Sean yells. “You should because I pulled the trigger!”

“She made you do it!” His twin insists, squeezing his hand. “She made you and if you didn’t she would’ve killed you!”

“So I killed her,” Ronan says evenly, as if he’s simply stating the sky is indeed blue. “I took the gun from Sean after he missed, and I shot her in the chest and after she fell over I shot her in the head.” Ronan looks at him defiantly. “So we’re fine. We can look after ourselves, you don’t have to care about us.”

Hank slowly sinks to his knees, taking the cup of soup from Connor and setting it aside before gently gathering the boy into his arms and reaching for the other two. He’s a big guy, he has enough wingspan for all three, and he enfolds them in as tight a hug as he can manage and that’s it, that’s what sends the last of their defences tumbling down. They cry loudly, the trauma of it all finally being given a proper outlet and he holds them and he vows to himself that he’s never letting them go. There will be no more Amandas in their life, not now, not ever again. 

“Takes us with you,” Connor sobs. “Don’t leave us here.”

“We’re leaving once Adam gets back. All of us,” Hank promises. “I’m never letting you out of my sight.”

* 

He’s used to watching the dawn, used to getting up this early now to feed the chickens and collect the eggs. He’s even used to waking up with a child still fast asleep on him, now that Alice treats him like a grandfather. There’s something different about this moment, though, with all three boys snuggled against him. 

There’s something hopeful about this because it’s eight hours later and he’s still whole and alive and unbitten. And that means Connor is indeed immune. With Sean being an identical twin, that means he too could carry the natural immunity. The hope of the entire world, fast asleep in his arms. It’s a beautiful sentiment. 

“Good morning Hank,” greets a voice at the gate and there’s Mister Markus Manfred himself; Jericho’s saviour and leader. “It’s good to see you.”

“Is Adam here yet?”

“Not yet,” the man shakes his head. “But Simon made breakfast for you and the boys. They’ll have a room near the creche with the other children, and we can get them settled in afterward.”

“We’ll have breakfast, and then as soon as Adam gets back, we’re heading for the farm,” he meets Markus’ gaze steadily. “They’re not staying.”

“Hank, Dr Anthea told me Connor is immune. That means we could work towards developing a vaccine.”

“You still can,” he shrugs as best he can with three sleeping kids piled on him. “We can make the trip every weekend. But these boys are coming home with me.”

Markus looks at him, scrutinising him, and Hank can see both the leader and the saviour at work, weighing up the pros and cons and trying to find the common ground for the greater good. Hank would never want to be in his shoes, no sir, no thank you.

“Breakfast, then?” Markus smiles one of his charming presidential smiles as he unlocks the gate and gestures towards the entrance. “Simon made pancakes and we cut up some of the strawberries you brought over from the farm.”

“Pancakes?” Connor stirs sleepily, rubbing his eyes and there it is, there’s the bite on his arm, three weeks and one day older. 

“Yeah kiddo, pancakes for breakfast before we head home.”

“Home,” Ronan echoes with a soft smile. 

“We’ll be good, we’ll help out on the farm and work extra hard,” Sean whispers nervously, and Hank runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. 

“I know you will.”

* 

Connor and Sean Dechart are ten years old- very nearly almost eleven, Connor points out. Ronan Dechart turned nine two weeks ago, a birthday forgotten entirely in the struggle to survive so Hank makes note to bake a cake. Their parents had died in the initial outbreak, and Professor Amanda Stern had taken them in after finding them hiding at the nearby university where she taught. The story unfolds on the drive back to the farm and the more he learns about their time with Amanda the more he’s glad Ronan shot her and shot her again. 

Luther greets them on the driveway, Alice bundled up in a thick down jacket and blanket sitting on his arm. She waves enthusiastically, cheeks rosy and smile bright and Hank feels his heart squeeze in his chest at the sight. Rose is standing on the porch and she’s giving him A Look and he wants to say sorry reflexively but he’s not actually sorry for anything. 

Alice takes Connor’s hand and drags him inside, the boys trailing, and she announces loudly that she’s giving them the grand tour. Luther claps him on the shoulder before following Alice.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Rose sighs heavily as she pours him a generous mug of freshly brewed coffee. Her tone is reprimanding, but there’s something fond in her eyes as they take a seat at the dining table. 

“I couldn’t leave them,” he shakes his head. “Not out there on their own, and not even at Jericho. Not after all the shit they’ve been through.”

“Because you’re a parent, Hank,” she says it so softly, so gently and his breath hitches in his throat. “You’re a father. It’s just what you do. It’s just who you are.”

“They’ve been through hell, and they deserve better. They deserve a second chance.” His vision blurs as he raises his head and looks at you. “You taught me that.”

“I did, and now you’re teaching them that,” Rose is smiling, a big radiant smile and he can’t help but lean over to kiss that beautiful smile. As far as second chances go, he reckons this is about as perfect as it gets.

[scaramouche-bully]

+ 1 other. Apologies, I accidently deleted another anon’s ask. 

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons 

Includes: Ningguang and Zhongli.

[ Sub ] Gender-neutral reader

Contains: Overstimulation, exhibition, vibrators, dacryphilia, coming untouched, multiple orgasms, humiliation, sub space, cock-warming, size difference + size kink 

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Xiao, Childe, and Scaramouche 🐏 [ GN ]  

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Kaeya and Venti 🐑 [ GN ]

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Kaeya and Venti

[ masterlist ]

I’m not sure if you all wanted the same characters or not but I wanted to include others so everyone has some food. I have a lot of bratty sub requests lined up so I hope it’s alright that I didn’t write one this time. I kind of want to dedicate an entire fic to exhibition after writing this but this is a busy week for me. 

— ☆ Ningguang 

Ningguang is a very busy woman so she can’t spend all her time to pleasuring you. However, she does immensely enjoy putting you in humiliating situations where you’re forced to sit there and take it. 

Her favourite activity is softly kissing you, sending you into a sense of warm comfort, as she gently fingers you open. The cute whines you make? It makes her want to cancel her plans and fuck you over the table but she holds her self-restraint in. 

Just when you’re about to cum, her hands are gone and she’s teasingly toying a vibrator around your walls. Before forcefully shoving it into your hole until it’s nestled right against your walls. 

As you whine at how mean she’s being, she offers one last kiss before she’s rearranging your clothes until you look decent and returning to her seat. The meeting is about to begin. 

It’s only been a couple minutes into the meeting and you can feel the faint buzzing of the vibrator that’s rubbing against your sensitive spots. But there are so many people around you, important people, that you have to hold it. You’re biting your lips raw, to the point you can almost taste blood, as you try and appear professional. What would happen if someone noticed? You’re heating up in embarrassment but the idea of getting caught makes you feel so hot. Under the table you’re squeezing your legs together so tightly, clutching around the vibrator as some sort of stabilization even when it’s pressed right against your spot. Your toes curl as your legs raise a tiny bit above the floor as your legs strain and you try to not cum in front of so many people. 

“mmph- ahh...N-Ning..” you quietly plead with her but it only seems to increased the intensity of the vibrations. You quickly duck your head down and cover your mouth as you openly pant into your hand, scooting a bit closer to the edge of the table so no one beside you could see what you were doing, as you dip your hands onto the edge of your pants. Just a little relief, just something to distract your mind from the pleasure. Before you can dip your fingers into your waistband, you feel a sharp gaze on you. That’s your only warning before the vibrator is set to max as your sputter and try to control your voice. This is complete torture as you desperately try to muffle your moans with your hand. 

“I-I can’t..p-please..ah!” you gasp but it’s too late. You’re digging your nails into the chair as you cum. Your pants are completely soaked as your leg’s twitch and spasm. You can vaguely hear someone beside you asking if you’re okay or not but you can’t answer right now. 

“Excuse them, they accidently pulled their leg and must be feeling the cramps. Poor thing,” Ningguang chuckles as she waves off their concerns. You shakily try to smile at them and they only nod concerned before continuing the meeting.  Ningguang was right, everyone beside the Qixing were idiots. While Ningguang has her usual pleasant smile, her eyes are absolutely feral as she fiddles with the remote. Switching from low to high that you never know what to expect. This time you have no warning of when the vibrator is set to max. Your mouth falls open but no sounds come out as your cum all over yourself again. Just to sit there and take it, just as she likes. 

— ☆ Zhongli

Zhongli wasn’t aware that it was a kink in the first place but when he watched you try and take his cock, only to end up cumming so much to the point of crying like a baby, it unlocked something deeply primal inside him.

He'll offer small words of false comfort as he gently pets your head like you're a dog. It’s okay if it’s too much for you, it’s okay if only you get to orgasm, and it’s okay if you want to give up. 

It only ends up making you cry more and try harder that you end up pushing yourself into sub-drop. He loves it. 

He adores the dumb look you get on your face. He can fuck you stupid so fast with such minimal effort that it makes you so embarrassed the morning after.  

“Zhongli! S-Stop! I’m- ngh! No-I c-can’t ...ahh!” you squeal, clinging onto him as you cum again. You’re crying into his shoulder as you shake and sob as he holds you to his chest. He never stops his slow thrusts into you even as the overstimulation settles in and your head is lolling back and your eyes grow hazy in pleasure. 

“Shh, yes you can. You can and you will. Don’t disappoint me now,” his eyes seem to dilate as he says this. He adjusts his grip on your hips and fucks into you harder. The stuttering babbles that get punched out as he thrust’s his thick cock in and out. You’re drooling all over yourself as your mind fogs up, you can feel yourself reaching your next orgasm already. Zhongli’s cock easily slides into you with all the cum that’s already inside you, the wet slaps that echo in the room, it’s burning you up too fast. His thick cock as it drags against your spots that you feel like you’re going insane. 

“Z-Zhongli...” you whine, looking up at him with tearful eyes, “feels...good...hah.”

“Does it now? Weren’t you crying that it was too much a few minutes ago?” he whispers as he makes a quick snap of his hips to sink his entire cock into you. He can feel your walls seize up, your head throw back, before you orgasm and try to push him away. Your knee’s lifting closer to you as your toes curl before becoming boneless and dropping to the bed.

“Noo..more..Zhongli..mm” you couldn’t help the loud whine that left your lips as you feel him rock back into you. You were too sensitive from your previous orgasms but it felt so good. Wave after wave of pleasure even when it was too much. Zhongli laughs under his breath as he watches the conflicting feelings swirl in your head before you eventually drop and let him take over. He leans over as he kisses away your tears but he can’t help that sick pride in his chest seeing you let go of your inhibition's. He’s softly calls to you to come back to him, that you did so well and he’s so proud of you. Your needy hole is sucking his cock back in as he gently tries to ease himself out that he accepts his fate and lets you cockwarm him. Gently turning you over onto your side as he let’s you doze off, warm and content.