#part of the problem with her upbringing of having to have control of her body at all times and then suddenly she doesn't and it's horrifyin

[tonycries]

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that. 

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes. 

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck. 

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one. 

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.  

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir. 

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have. 

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber. 

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time. 

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.” 

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face. 

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife. 

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out. 

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you. 

Finally. 

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.” 

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. . 

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.” 

Next. Next. Next. Next. 

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break. 

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never. 

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done. 

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked. 

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need. 

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor. 

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably. 

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits. 

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did -  maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll. 

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you. 

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most,  “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.” 

RIP—! 

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now. 

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears. 

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy. 

But he does for you anyway. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt. 

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard. 

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt. 

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second. 

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt. 

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy. 

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for. 

You. 

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air. 

Shit - he was big. 

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close. 

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.” 

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone. 

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy. 

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?”  His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle. 

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you. 

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him. 

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.” 

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.  

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear. 

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight. 

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass. 

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying? 

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die. 

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside. 

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[thcdoomed]

From one spectacular high to the deepest low she can go, the fury and frenzy of minutes ago leaves her a mess now. Bloodied and battered and tears threatening to streak her face even further. That they even saw the first cracks in the facade the night she changed was bad enough, that they see the full fractures now... fractures like she feels now. That same familiar pang, of pushing through barriers and seeing the depths of another's mind. Her hand reaches up and grips her head, but she can't stop the assault of the things she's seen, the horrors of her past, and the terror of the present. And she can't hide how she sees herself now, another monster that Demasc has made. Teeth grit, blood still staining the crevices between them.

The scenes of Winter Dale's sundering, fire and blood and screams all mix into one horrific vision that she's reliving, that she's relived many nights when the Dream Guardian wasn't invading her mind. All those horrors ripped from her and put on horrific display.

And just as quickly the connection is severed, and though her condition has stolen even her breath, she gasps deeply, red eyes shooting wide open and those tears finally spilling over. Gale knows, just as Karlach learned that night, the horrors she endured first-hand. She's not the fearless leader she's led them to believe, she's terrified. "If I indulge it, I become what I so hate." Even then, though, the hand at her side feels soothing, the pain from the wound growing less intense with every passing second. If only such a cure exists for her heart. What does she deserve his patience for when she had nearly tried to kill him moments before? Slowly, she falls to her knees, legs giving way under the emotional strain of trying to hold herself together for the others when her world is crumbling around her. Her eyes betray her in every way, the fear and heartache wears plain as day in their shimmer as she finally looks at him again. Damned Gale, always with such perfectly chosen words, telling her what she should be hearing even if she doesn't feel she deserves it. "I don't know what I am anymore..."

Red eyes scan the group behind him, trying to read their expressions through the tears and strain, but they are as quiet as a funeral. Blurred expressions and solemn stances and little more. The rosy fruity aroma suddenly drowns out the blood and brings her attention back to the kindly wizard. Every time she wishes to interject his words halt her. She had shown him the kindness he deserved, and his wounds hadn't gone unnoticed when she patched him up, like her, he suffered in silence, keeping his pains to himself. They are alike in that regard. "C-careful wizard, you'll invoke the gods with that talk." It almost got a laugh out of her, but a cautious smile comes forth instead. "I'm just a simple hunter, as I've always said." One bloodied hand reaches out to hold to his robe, the other resting over his hand over her wound. "Help me up, friend... I grow tired of this place." His vow to remind her makes the cautious smile a little less reserved. Hell is inside her tonight, it may be for some time, but she doesn't doubt the friendships she's made since this journey started.

It pains him to see this. She's losing herself. She's sinking into shadows and she can't well breathe. Gale watches her flounder, those fringes of terror written plain and stark. Her heart crashes like tempest, pulsing through those tendrils of their ill-gotten worms, and it terrifies and frightens as it spills into his senses... Her heart-pounding terror now become his own. She believes herself a danger. He can taste the sharp of blood. And she, a hunter, knows best her creatures, and by arrows and steel and the run of a blade, it's solely death and ruin that will stem their thirsts...

He hears the sundering of windpipes.

And he sees her friends. "Ah--"

And he smells him, his rotting, and hears his heart.

Everything! Everything is blisteringly magnified. It's like the world, a pale swath of grey, takes on colors and sounds he's seldom once known. Gale severs the connection, shutting his eyes tightly to the nauseating feedback. Yet, to the heart of the matter, he'd felt a familiar grief--a horror that, too, had twisted his dreams... They're both liabilities. (His orb gives a laugh.) "We all have a hunger, and yet, few would understand the feeling of willfully ignoring it," he reminds, gaze so blindingly patient. His touch is soothing, its usual warmth like an evening in the sunshine or a nap beside a hearth. "I don't need to tell you what you've done, but I would be remiss were I to allow you to think yourself what you are very clearly not. You have compassion. I had felt your very heart echo. Don't make the mistake of believing you're no different from them. I have seen you, and nothing's further from the truth." Relax. Breathe. He offers himself, his own life, and his own flesh and blood transfers her way, thatching her wound through clever spell. The group behind them is silent, the smell of massacre and blood swimming with the earthiness of forest. Yet, Gale aims to narrow her attention, and canting his head, he brings the fragrance of persimmons. His palm, his hand, still cradles her. "You have fought to have me by your side when you'd have every reason to cast me away. Most would struggle to show me the kindness you've consistently afforded me. Speak nothing of monsters, Dronia. You've above even mortals--and I believe I'd know about that." Smile. Oh, please do, hunter. "If ever you forget yourself, know that I'm there to remind you. You will not bury anymore friends today. Come. I think we've ought to get ourselves cleaned up."

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 33)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap,

"Alright, let's eat," Cillian's father announced, bringing everyone back to reality but Frank shook his head.

"You cannot possibly pretend that you are okay with this, dad!" he said, looking at his father with anger.  "How can you sit here and pretend that this is okay? This is my stepdaughter for Christ's sake!" he spat, gesturing to you and Cillian before dropping another insult. 

"But hey, bravo, Y/N! Your slutty behavior got you a sugar and a baby daddy, all in one, so I am sure you are proud of yourself," Frank went on, causing Cillian's face to grow dark with anger.

"Shut up, Frank," Cillian ground out, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "This is the mother of my child who you are talking about," he snapped, before turning to you and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and you couldn't help but feel your heart sink at Frank's harsh words. You had never intended to cause any problems or hurt anyone's feelings, especially not Cillian's family. But it seemed that no matter what you did, you couldn't escape the judgment and criticism.

"Yes, she is because, clearly, she is too young and naive to use birth control," Frank sneered, not holding back any punches.

You could feel the tension in the room growing as Cillian's grip on your shoulder tightened.

"Please, Frank, enough," Cillian said, his voice strained but Frank was not listening.

"No, Cillian! You slept with a fucking child and don't see anything wrong with it," Frank shouted, unable to control his anger.

Cillian's grip on my shoulder tightened further, his body rigid with fury as he glared at his brother. "Frank, I said enough," he growled, his voice dangerously low.

But Frank was not deterred. He pointed a finger at you, his eyes filled with disgust and contempt. "And you, Y/N. You think this is all just a game, don't you?" he asked while even your mother tried to hold him back.

"No Frank, I don't think that this is a game at all and I am no child. I am adult and have been for quite some time. I never asked for anything from you and mum and I never asked for anything from Cillian either. I was going to have an abortion and get on with my life, but you know what?" you suddenly stood up, causing the entire room to fall silent as you took a deep breath, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped down your cheek. "I am glad that Cillian stopped me from being so selfish. He wanted me to keep the baby and I am glad that I did as we both love her unconditionally, which is not something that seems to be the norm when it comes to my own upbringing," you stated, holding Mara tighter as she snuggled herself comfortably against your chest. "Nobody has ever wanted me for who I am. First my mother sent me overseas, then my father sent me back and then the two of you kicked me out because I fell for a man I shouldn't have. But you know what - I thank for it now because I am happy for once, with your brother, so there is that. You can keep on ranting all you want Frank, but nothing is going to change," you continued, speaking your mind before taking a deep breath, leaving everyone else in the room speechless. 

"I am sorry for ruining your birthday," you then finally said to Cillian's mother, knowing that all this trouble and rage was the result of your presence.

"Don't be silly," Cillian's mother replied with a smile, patting your hand comfortingly. "Family is always messy. Always will be. Family drama is nothing new for me. Besides, I am glad that you and Mara are here. She's quite something," she said fondly, admiring a sleeping Mara while Frank rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," Frank muttered, pushing his chair back and standing up abruptly. "I can't handle this crap anymore." he asked angrily, gesturing toward you with a flick of his wrist before walking off. He clearly needed to calm down and collect himself before returning to the table but, honestly, you couldn't care less about his feelings in that moment.

You were fed up with his constant judgement and criticism. Fed up with him acting like he had some sort of authority over you. Fed up with being treated like a child instead of the adult that you were. You deserved respect and dignity, just like everyone else.

"Let's just enjoy the rest of our breakfast," Cillian's father suggested, trying to diffuse the tension but your heart was still racing with anger and frustration.

You barely touched your food as you couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt and sadness wash over you. This wasn't how you wanted things to go. You didn't want to cause a scene or upset anyone, but sometimes the truth can be hurtful.

After breakfast, your mother excused herself to check on Frank, leaving you and Cillian alone with his parents at the table.

You could feel the tension radiating from Cillian's body as his grip on his coffee cup grew tighter and tighter.

"I'm sorry," you whispered softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "I didn't mean to make things any worse by speaking up," you told him but he turned to you, his eyes filled with sadness and regret. 

"No, you did the right thing," he said, squeezing your hand. "You did well," Cillian assured you, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your temple. But you couldn't shake off the guilt and sadness.

"I just wish things could be different," you said quietly, staring down at your untouched plate.

"Hey," Cillian said, lifting your chin with his finger to look at him. "Things are different. We are different. And that's okay because we are together. We have each other and we have Mara," he reassured you, his gaze steady while his mother looked on with awe. 

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning into his touch as you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur as everyone tried their best to avoid any further confrontations. Your mother and you were careful to avoid any topics that might trigger Frank and Cillian's parents were equally cautious not to upset anyone as you celebrated Cillian's mother's birthday. 

As the day drew to a close, you found yourself lying in bed next to Cillian, your bodies entwined as you tried to drift off to sleep.

Mara was fast asleep in her crib, her soft breathsicle lullaby that filled the air.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you as you listened to Cillian's steady heartbeat, your bodies pressed close together. You trailed your fingers gently up and down his chest, marveling at the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

Despite everything that had happened earlier in the day, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Cillian's presence in your life. You wouldn't have changed anything, not even the mistakes you had made. 

Because they had led you to Cillian, and he was worth it all. You shifted closer to him, your breasts brushing against his chest, your nipples hardening at the contact. Cillian's grip on you tightened, and you felt him stirring against your hips.

You had been brave today, louder and stronger than you ever thought possible, and now it was time to let go. 

"I love you Y/N," Cillian murmured, caressing your face gently as he traced your lips with his thumb, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill run down your spine.

"I want you so bad," you whispered in response, your eyes glazing over with desire.

"I want you too babe, but you know we can't. You haven't healed yet," Cillian reminded you, his voice heavy with restraint.

"Yes, I do know that. But it doesn't mean I can't still pleasure you," you murmured suggestively, pressing a soft kiss to his chest and causing Cillian to groan.

"No, please. I want to wait until I can be inside you again," Cillian pleaded, but you could hear the desire in his voice, the longing.

You traced your fingers up his chest, teasingly, before resting your hand on his crotch. You could feel his erection, hard and straining against his boxers, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of power.

"Fuck Y/N, you are not playing a fair game," Cillian gasped as you traced your fingers over his length, feeling him twitch beneath your touch.

"Why should I? You are the one denying me something I want so badly," you replied, keeping your voice low and seductive.

You could hear the struggle in Cillian's voice as he tried to resist your touch.

"Mara," he gasped, reminding you of your daughter sleeping soundly in her crib.

You glanced over at your baby, but saw that she was still fast asleep, her breathing deep and steady.

"She's asleep. You just have to be quiet," you told him.  You wanted him, needed him, and you were determined to have him.

Slowly, you pulled down his boxers, exposing his erect cock to the cool air.

Cillian hissed at the contact, his hips jerking slightly as you wrapped your hand around his shaft.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice low and deep.

You smirked at him, your hand moving slowly up and down his length, feeling him grow harder and harder in your grasp.

"Sshh," you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear.

Cillian's breathing grew labored, his fingers tightening in the sheets as you continued to stroke him.

"I don't know if I can keep quiet," he admitted, his voice strained.

You chuckled softly in response, your hand continuing to move up and down his length.

"Well, you better find a way," you whispered, leaning in to brush a kiss against his lips.

Cillian groaned as you deepened the kiss, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You could feel his hips thrusting upwards, seeking more friction as you continued to stroke him.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed your lips down his chest, your tongue flicking out to taste his skin.

"I need you to cum down my throat so that we don't stain your parents' sheets," you whispered hoarsely, your hand still working its magic on his cock as you adjusted your position.

Cillian hissed at your words, his hips bucking upwards as you took him into your mouth.

You sucked him deep, your tongue swirling around his tip as you tasted his arousal.

"Yes, just like that," Cillian groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as you took him deeper into your mouth.

You hollowed out your cheeks, creating a vacuum as you sucked him harder and faster.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian hissed, "I am close." 

You moaned in response, your hand still working its magic on his base as you sucked him deeper.

Cillian couldn't hold back any longer. With a strangled cry, he came down your throat, his cum filling your mouth as you swallowed every last drop.

You released him with a pop, licking your lips clean as you looked up at him with a satisfied grin.

Cillian's chest was heaving as he looked down at you, a mixture of lust and admiration in his eyes.

"You are unbelievable," he said, his voice husky with pleasure.

You grinned up at him, feeling empowered by your ability to make him lose control like that. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," you teased, running your fingers along his thighs.

Cillian's hands were still gripping the sheets tightly, and you could see that he was still partially hard. "Do you want more?" you asked, raising an eyebrow seductively.

"No," he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I want to return the favor when we get back home tomorrow," he told you, ensuring to place emphasis on those words.

"I am still bleeding Cillian," you told him as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

"I know," Cillian assured you before planting a kiss on your forehead. "But I've got an idea," he said, a mischievous look in his eye before pulling you closer into his arms.

The two of you lay there for a few moments, enjoying each other's warmth and comfort before the sound of a door opening caught your attention followed by two familiar voices, arguing with one another.

"I am so sick of this, Frank," your mother said, her voice strained. "You cannot keep behaving like this. It's not fair. She is still my daughter," she went on, her voice cracking as she tried to hold back tears.

"She might be your daughter but she is clearly out of line, whoring around with my brother, a 46-year old man," Frank retorted harshly, causing you to flinch at his cruel words.

"Enough," Cillian barked, his voice firm as he got out of bed abruptly before walking towards the door to address your mother and Frank who smelled of alcohol. 

"Frank, I don't know what your problem is, but I am tired of this bullshit," Cillian said as his face twisted in anger, which is when Frank leashed out towards Cillian without warning, swinging his fist towards his jaw.

The yelling woke up Mara, causing her to start crying at the top of her lungs just as, suddenly, you heard a loud thud. 

"Oh my god Frank, what did you do?" you then heard your mother shout as Mara's cries filled the house and you quickly picked her up before racing out of the room to see the damage that had been done.

Tags:

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[fantasy-relax]

Sweet Alpha Dangerous Omega

Part 8 Part 9

Taking off your clothes Bela thought about how furious her mother was going to be with you, her first choice of punishment would be to cut your hands or at least fracture them which Bela couldn't allow due to your work with Relia. A week in the dungeon, with a single meal of bread and water, plus twenty lashes a day would be more than enough to teach you a lesson. Even so, the blonde would have to calm her down to prevent her from going overboard and ending up killing you.

Coming out of her thoughts and looking at your half-naked body, Bela finally looks at your scars in more detail, it is the first time she has done so because the physical checkup she did on you was with your clothes on and she couldn't see you clearly when you bathed with Cassandra.

Your legs, arms, and torso are covered in scars, some from claws, cuts, and bites (Bela will set her garden on fire if the teeth marks on your arm aren't Cassandra's). The most certain origin of it was from your work as a hunter and your carpentry work.

However, there were others that she knew well.

Discipline marks.

Most of them were on your back, but there were also behind your legs, all of them seemed to be from years ago.

So, in the end your submission and obedience were due to your upbringing, a man would not tolerate his son disrespecting him, much less a daughter, he would not care if she was an alpha. Considering that the presentation of the sub gender was in early childhood, your upbringing must have greatly suppressed your alpha traits.

But an alpha would always be an alpha.

Surrounded by women smaller and weaker than you, of an “inferior” sub gender, of course sooner or later you would feel with the power and right to establish your superiority.

And now you had to be disciplined, as many times as necessary to control that wild beast in you.

Haa

What a disappointment.

-------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------

"Sixteen"

Your cries of pain were music to her ears.

"Seventeen"

It was always the same with alphas and men.

"Eighteen"

They believed they had the right to do whatever they wanted simply because of their “Genetic Superiority.”

"Nineteen"

Imbeciles.

"Twenty"

You tried to hold back your sobs to protect your pathetic pride, Alcina rolled her eyes and signaled for her dear Bela to take you down to disinfect your wounds and bandage you for the day.

After all she still needed you alive.

But Alcina would let Heisenberg spit in her face before allowing her beloved Cassandra to spend her most vulnerable period with a feral alpha.

Grabbing the bottle of alcohol, she emptied it on your wounds.

“I told you that I would make you regret it.”

You’re crying and moans of pain filled her with satisfaction.

And her Beta with guilt.

---------------------------------------------

“Good morning freak”

The maid smiled at you mockingly and there was only malice in her eyes. Placing the tray of food on a table, she grabbed the piece of bread and then trampled it and placed it back on the tray.

“Your food is ready.”

She took the glass of water and spat into it.

“And your drink.”

She left the tray far away from your cell, to reach it you had to stretch and consequently open your wounds.

It was that or not eat for another day.

“Aren't you hungry?”

Your stomach hurt, before you could go up to three days without eating without any problem, but after spending a month eating full meals three times a day you no longer had the same resistance as before.

“If you don't want it, I'll take it.”

You reached out to grab her before she carried out her threat.

“UGH that's disgusting, you really are a mutt.”

Picking up the tray and the glass, she simply left the room.

There were four more days left to finish your punishment.

You regretted breaking the rules the matriarch had imposed on you.

Still, you'd do it again.

It didn't matter that Cassandra didn't want you as a mate.

Her omega had chosen you as a suitable alpha.

And it was your duty to defend her when she couldn't.

-------------------------------------------------- ------

Knock Knock

"Enter"

The maid was one who had been working for a year, Zina was the only omega except for Cassandra who did not have a partner and preferred to take suppressants to cope with her heat.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Lady Bela.”

“Don’t worry, what do you need?”

It was well known that all the Dimitrescu were softer with the Omega women than with the Betas. It was hard not to be when they were the only ones who understood and followed the castle rules without any drama.

“Um it's about the alpha.”

BAM

“Did she do something to you?” Her voice was pure venom. She knew she should have watched you more, an alpha would always be an alpha whether male or female.

“NO, NO, NEVER”

  Bela took a deep breath and sat back looking through the papers and books on the floor thanks to her broken desk.

She would have to order Relia a new one.

Zina reached out to pick up everything that had fallen to the ground, talking as she did so.

“She only goes from her room to the kitchen and workshop, she doesn't look for a fight or mess with anyone, but…” She places the notebooks on the coffee table and sighs. “I can't say the same about the other maids.”

[kiwisleepy]

HELLO good morning or night where ever you are but!! I love nsr and all the crazy designs people come up with, so I wanted to throw my hat in the ring with a few questions!

-Since Apollinare conducts with the "stars" and such, does that mean he's got a good relationship with DJSS or a bad one? I can't imagine that they're REALLY the stars but also....if DJSS can grow to the size of a skyscraper and also create an event horizon by cracking his head then maybe they really ARE the stars!!

-Also also, if they don't get along, is it just entirely on DJSS's part or is it mutual? You wrote that Apollinare was a polite fellow, and Nova is a..pretty egotistical guy, so I can easily see him getting territorial over his "brand" but I could be entirely wrong!!

-Last thing but, Ratio also, seems to be space themed! Do those 2 ocs have any relation to each other, or is it just a favorite theme of yours? No judgement here, space is a wonderful thing! But also, in her art, she's got a little Sayu on her head, so does that mean the two artists are really close or was that just a cute detail you wanted to add?

I hope this wasn't too overwhelming, but nsr ocs are such a treat for me to see, because you can really make anything you want in a way, and it's always great seeing more love for the game!

HI AND I'M SORRY THAT I TOOK SO LONG TO GET READY AND ANSWER AHHHHHH

Apollinare is a star, but its head does not consist of gas, but of a crystalline base (more precisely, only the head, the body is organic). By the way, he can not only control the stars, but also feel them. There are disadvantages to this, because he can feel the explosion of a star, and if it does not affect him, it will definitely distract him.

Poor bby let him sleep

He WOULD HAVE A GOOD RELATIONSHIP WITH THE DJ, IF NOT FOR ONE SMALL ISSUE THAT SPOILS EVERYTHING (in fact, there are many reasons and the "hostility" comes only from the DJ). This is not even a battle for the brand, since Apollinare never express desire to join NSR, not because he dislike them, no, the reason why, he already has so much to do: To maintain the opera house, his parents' mansion, while they are away, all the maids and butlers, their salary, train ballet dancers, his orchestra - he doesn't need additional duty in the form of District.

THE REASON WHY THEY(Only DJ actually, it's not mutual) DONT GET ALONG IS...... that he can conduct the stars. Imagine: You are a DJ, come home after you gave a concert and interacted with these P*lutonians, you decided to look through your telescope, admire the sky, make your scientific notes there and then

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

All the stars in the sky are twitching in a cartoon disgusting way, or vice versa, smoothly, but still too fast, with the risk of colliding and exploding.

And you know who's to blame

This

Starhead

Asshole

Decided to practice his Vivaldi or whoever in the starry sky again, disturbing the order!

And then......

.....Bro got so mad that he sent a live message through 3 DISTRICTS HELP(Apollinare lives in Natura)

Temptation to show middle finger to this conductor is high.

The reason for disliking number 2

Gifts

Apollinare is a person of a different upbringing, so he doesn't see the problem in giving a magnificent bouquet as a sign of appreciation(He often gaining them after his performances)

......But some people see (But if he sponsored the launch of a satellite, it would be a different matter)

You think nothing else can get worse for DJ? ha! You're wrong! Once Apollinare asked one of his ballet pupils what kind of bouquet he could gift, listing the flowers and their meaning..... And they jokingly offered to gift food bouqet.

Apollinare did not understand the joke and SEARCHED "CREATING FOOD BOUQUET SERVICE" ON THE INTERNET, ORDERED IT AND GIFTED A BOUQUET OF ICE DODO POPS, HELP, THIS GUY.....

(Y'all, admit you envy Subatomic right now)

Subatomic could refused, but..... Do you really think that he would refuse such a bouquet? Even if an enemy gave him this one, he wouldn't have the heart to throw it away.

Remember, I said that the main reason for dislike is that Apollinare wreaked havoc in the night sky? Forget AND BEHOLD: TRUE REASON TO DISLIKE APOLLO

.

.

.

.

.

Height

Even if Apollinare takes off his shoes and the DJ stays in his and does not take off his hood, the conductor will remain taller.(But I'm a lazy ass and forgot to redraw Pollo, he's head so tiny there😭😭😭)

(I swear, he is higher)

As a result, Apollinare unknowingly stole everything from him: His space(thankfully not personal), his height, his bitches.

NEVERTHELESS, Apollinare never cease to admire the DJ's music and theme, and although he still cannot get to any of his live concerts (Work does not spare poor Pollo ;-;), he enjoys watching streams recorded by other people.

NOW ABOUT RATIO

Ratio isn't related to Apollinare, however, he also admires her, although her theme includes not only space(but mainly). She has a cute, cartoonish, soulful vibes, like in "Bee and Puppycat." (She even speaks like PC when she is wearing a helmet)

In the mentioned art, Sayu was drawn as a cute detail, Ratio herself is not close to any EDM megastars(she afraid of them all), nevertheless, these two like to chatting online sometimes (this is the one and only method of communication that does not make Ratio panic)

Ratio also chatting a bit with Eloni, Eve(suprisingly huh???) and Tatiana (Ratio chatting with Tati more about business things or asking for help//advice)

I HOPE I ANSWERED EVERYTHING CLEARLY AND THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR SO MANY QUESTIONS, I'M OVERWHELMED IN A GOOD WAY AHAHAHAHAHAH *Dead*

[bearbluebooks]

Chapter 4 - God in a Captain's Shirt

Red-headed charter guests with fire in their veins, protective Azriel and badass Gwyn. This is my favorite chapter yet, I think it shows Gwynriel dynamic well. Enjoy!

Start here or if you're all caught up read the new chapter here or under the cut.

TW: soft bdsm, sexual harrasment.

Gwyn POV

The familiar monotone humming of the engines signaled home- at least for now. After the absolute dream of an evening last night, reality quickly set in as their next charter began- and it would be a long one. This charter was all male, which in Gwyn’s experience meant all trouble. 

Something about the sea brought out some primal sense of freedom. Nothing was off limits once land was out of vision, and the sky was the limit- no alcohol was too much, and no ass too forbidden. 

The boundary between hospitality and hostility was a fine line that Gwyn still did not know how to navigate. One last whiskey could turn into ‘just one touch’. To make matters worse, saying yes was part of her job description and how often she said the opposite, greatly affected the collective tip.

Azriel- or captain because they were on charter again- informed them beforehand what to expect. For the next three days, the Vanserra family would use their services. The main charter guest was a celebrity, especially in the yachting world. Beron Vanserra was the vice president of the biggest oil company in the country. His oldest son, Eris, was a famous politician, but the other red-headed males she didn’t recognize. 

She heard stories of the infamous Beron, the charismatic ladies’ man and devout husband. She wondered which persona she would see on this trip, she prepared for both, just in case.

The boat was filled with more red-headed people than she had seen in her life, she felt oddly at home.

The sun made its entrance in the background, as the charter guests slowly made their way toward the breakfast table. Gwyn was about to ask the guests what they would like to drink when Poppy whispered in her ear, “Chief… I made a mistake.” 

Oh no.

Gwyn quickly made a hierarchy of problems in her mind before coming up with appropriate damage control- maybe a guest went overboard, or the laundry machine broke. Maybe one of the guests already crossed the treacherous line of hospitality. Based on that last thought, she hoped it was a guest that went overboard.

“I will be right back for your orders.” She reassured the guests before she guided Poppy towards the pantry.

“I love to see you walk away, take your time.” One of the brothers said to her back. A shiver of disgust ran up her body- an impulse she quickly suppressed. Tips, tips, tips, she reminded herself.

Last night another brother, Morrin, already introduced her to his intentions when his eyes never left hers- or her ass. Lingering looks quickly evolved into words, “You are too pretty to be a stew”, she could feel his desire turn into action. Luckily, his youngest brother Lucien seemed to hold him in check, putting him in place with the occasional “watch yourself” or the even stronger “back the fuck off Morrin, leave her alone.” 

She wondered what went wrong (or right) in his upbringing, seeing as his dad seemed to have a similar obsession with her ass.

Once Poppy and Gwyn safely made it to the pantry they had the privacy needed for the conversation. The space was cramped enough to have no personal space, but it provided immediate notice of wandering eyes or ears.

“What happened?” she asked in a tone that hopefully signaled she wasn’t in trouble.

“It’s the captain’s shirt… I used the wrong temperature and now it’s-“ Tears started to form in her eyes. Poor thing was so distraught by the incident she almost cried, so she said “Poppy, don’t worry. Make sure the guests get their drinks and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Accidents happen, especially in such a chaotic, high-pressure work environment. With one last reassurance, Poppy regained some color back in her face and resumed her work.

Next stop, laundry room. Time for damage control. 

The even smaller door in the pantry led her straight to the laundry room where multiple machines were already running.

Gwyn had not missed that sound. 

When she scanned the room for the ‘mistake’, she quickly found the children-sized captain’s shirt. As soon as she held it in her hands she couldn’t contain the belly laugh that escaped her mouth before she picked up the radio and contacted the not child-sized Azriel.

“Captain, we have a slight problem” Gwyn’s voice confessed over the radio. “Could you come down to the laundry cabin?”

“Two minutes,” Azriel's baritone voice informed. How she loved that sound, she couldn’t wait to hear it in person.

With her back turned towards the door, Gwyn took up the work left behind in the laundry room. She hated sitting still.

Completely lost in the work, she did not hear the heavy footsteps, or see the imposing presence. She did feel the hands on her hips before she heard the words “If you wanted to see me you could have just asked.”

Before she could answer he added, “Was it one of the brothers? Did they do something? I will-“

She interrupted him before he could finish that threat, “No they haven’t.” 

She didn’t want to lie, never to him, so she added “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He hesitated to say “I don’t like the way they look at you.”

With a hand on his chest, she hoped to convey all the appreciation she felt. “Trust me, Azriel. I can handle them.”

She could see the wheels turning in his beautiful mind- the choice between trust, and control. “I do,” he said with some difficulty. 

The slight annoyance must have shone through her eyes, because he quickly corrected himself, “I do, Gwyn, I just don’t trustthem.”

He had a point.

“I know, me neither. But I’ve handled these kinds of people for a long time, and I will survive this time too.” A heavy feeling sank in her stomach. It sucked that this was a part of her job. Their behavior had become so normal that she hadn’t thought about it much until he brought it up.

But the world wouldn’t change in one charter, and all she had control over was this moment, so with a smirk on her face she turned around to show him the shirt. Shock colored his hazel eyes before a smile took over his face. “I know you prefer to see me naked, but I need my captain’s shirt at work.”

“I think you need to check your attitude,” she said as she hit him in the chest. One of his scarred hands embraced the sudden closeness when he placed it on top of hers to stop it from exiting his orbit.   

“Why don’t you do it for me?” he suggested.

“Make me,” She ordered as she placed her other hand on the growing bulge in his pants.

In response, one of his hands moved towards her back, where he ran his fingers lower to touch as much of her as he could in the limited time they were allowed. His mouth found hers in seconds when he placed a desperate kiss on her lips.

With two strong hands he cupped her ass and carried her towards the ironing board, “not here” she softly ordered. They would break it in seconds and that would definitely raise attention.

With hurried determination, he found a new destination- the counter. In one swift movement, he pushed all the towels off the surface before he softly deposited her on the stone expanse. A shiver ran up her body as her naked legs touched the cold material. “Are you cold?” he inquired. “Let me warm you up, love.”

With closed eyes, she felt his mouth move south toward her neck where he placed frantic kisses on every unclaimed spot. His strong hands moved to open the buttons of her dress which exposed the lace bra she wore for one pair of eyes.

Hungrily and desperately he opened the mesh confinement to reveal her already hardened nipples. No force could contain the quickness with which he took one of them in his mouth before he lavishly sucked on it and sent a shiver directly down Gwyn’s spine.

For extra strength, she wrapped her legs around his torso, and with every new stroke of his tongue, her legs tightened. A moan escaped her mouth when the sensation made her feel light-headed.

Continuing his downward path he moved towards her skirt. 

Gwyn was never unprepared, and when she saw his eyes light up as he found her next surprise- matching lace underwear- she felt a pang of pride. “Fuck” he groaned into her thigh, where he softly bit the inside in pretend anguish.

She smiled at the reaction, but her mouth quickly closed in surprise as his tongue found her already wet core. He lavishly sucked every drop before he removed the last barrier in one swift movement.

When she dared to look down, she saw a god in a captain’s uniform and she wondered how many people were blessed with a similar sight- a thought she quickly pushed away as possessiveness threatened to take over pleasure.

With strong arms he pulled her legs to sit at the top of the counter, giving him perfect access to his goal. With a sense of urgency and desperation, his tongue pushed inside her core. In tortuous movements, he glided in and out, in and out. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her mouth, “Azriel.”

Two of her hands moved to his hair. She needed more, she needed to feel him, to touch him. Closer. Her breath hitched as she begged “More.”

With a smile, he removed his tongue and moved it towards where she needed him most, the bundle of nerves that begged for release. Two fingers replaced his tongue, as they pushed inside her in a rhythmic movement that pushed her up that familiar hill of arousal.

“Not yet” he ordered in between strokes.

Everybody could walk in at any second, but the more pleasure she felt, the less she cared. All thoughts became dominated by a single goal- release. She moved a hand towards her mouth before she whined “Azriel, please.”

One more finger joined her already full center, as his tongue sucked even more rapidly. In a similar tempo, his tongue and fingers moved in tandem. Pushing her farther up that hill, until her release felt like a spring coiling tighter, tighter, tighter, until he said “now” and her vision faded to black as the earth shattered around her.

No other partner ever had that effect on her, she couldn’t help it when the words pushed her over the edge and his hand moved to cover her mouth as she screamed her release.

That was one of the best orgasms of her life. The sensation was so intense that shockwaves of pleasure rocked her hips, and she turned soft in his arms.

Azriel didn’t move an inch, as he sucked up all of her juices before he released her from his grip and took in exactly the effect he had on her. His eyes never left hers as he hungrily sucked all of her wetness from his fingers, when he added “I can’t get enough of your taste.”

His eyes looked at her lips when she challenged “Kiss me”. He smiled as he slowly moved closer to her, and gave her a tender kiss that didn’t match his absolute destruction of her ability to stand. She surprisingly enjoyed the taste of her arousal in his mouth and felt completely lost in the sensation before the urge to have a taste of him filled her mind.

Without words, she jumped off the counter, but she misjudged the time it would take for the feeling to return to her legs, as she fell into the strong arms that were always ready to catch her.

“Careful,” he said with a confidence that wasn’t entirely misplaced- something she wouldn’t share just yet. The male had enough ego as it was.

“I want to taste you too,” she said as her hand moved towards the belt that stood in the way of her destination.

“Tonight,” he promised. They were already on borrowed time. Given their track record, it surprised her that nobody walked in on them yet, so she begrudgingly agreed.

With one last kiss, he reminded her of what she would be craving all day, until the radio interrupted their carefully crafted peace, “Captain. You are needed in the bridge.”

With a groan, Azriel slowly backed away but didn’t leave until he gave her one last passionate kiss that took all her breath away. With closed eyes, she cherished the feeling, and accidentally didn’t see him walk away, with what she was sure was a very smug look.

--------------

Azriel POV

When he walked out of the laundry room he had to adjust his pants to accommodate the hardest cock he had in his life- he could still see her come undone under his ministrations, and he could hear her scream as she came because of his mouth. It gave him a sense of pride he had never felt before, that he was the reason she came so hard she couldn’t even stand.

It all played on repeat in his mind, which, combined with the taste of her on his tongue only made his dick grow harder.

“Are you all right, brother?” Cassian said as he bumped into him walking towards the bridge, “Where in the hell were you? You smell like…”

“None of your business”, he replied stead-fast, hoping to stop all further questions. Even though Cassian knew about their relationship, what just happened in the pantry was a huge violation of every rule he set for himself- and every rulebook on captaincy. What happened in their private time was one thing, but sex on charter was a fireable offense. He needed to be smarter about this, but whenever he saw Gwyn all thoughts made way for feelings- pure and undiluted hunger he had never felt before. 

He loved rules. Rules gave control, something to follow amid chaos, but whenever he was around Gwyn nothing else existed except for her. And he had never been happier in his life.

As they walked over to the bridge in silence, they encountered Balthazar whom he greeted with a nod.

Before he could enter the solitary peace of the bridge, he needed to cross the deck where all the guests were gathered for breakfast.

He didn’t know how but Gwyn beat him to it. Before he could smile, he saw how one of the brothers looked at her- with equal possession and desire. He wanted to punch it off his face for even thinking about it.

What happened next transcended every feeling of rage he had felt in his life, when Morran grabbed Gwyn’s ass and said “Why don’t you come to my room after breakfast.” Then he looked her up and down with condescension and desire, and added “You know where it is.”

With a step fueled by pure rage, he was ready to lose it all- his captaincy, all respect from his crew, his credibility, and his authority. He didn’t care. Nobody touched Gwyn. His Gwyn. The Gwyn that brought him so much happiness he still didn’t believe was possible. The Gwyn whose teal eyes saw straight through every defense he spent his whole life building. The Gwyn that made him believe he deserved to be loved. The Gwyn that he-

And that asshole touched her? The whole world stopped as red took over his vision, not because of their hair, but because of their words.

His fists balled on instinct, and with one more step, he would have punched that smug face with all the anger he felt taking over his body.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from getting closer. With a strong pull, he released himself only the words “Wait. Watch,” made him pause long enough for the next moment to play out.

“Despite what you believe, not everything is for sale. And I am not included in the rental of this boat.” To which the redhead had the nerve to counter “Your services are.”

A new hand on his shoulder tightened. “I know you probably have to pay for affection”, she continued as she looked him up and down with something akin to pity, “but the sort of service you are looking for is not part of my job description.” As she started to walk away she added one final punch “I can arrange for someone to come to this boat, for affection. Just say the word.” Then she leaned down to whisper something in his ear he couldn’t quite hear, before she walked away with an extra sway in her step. As if to show him exactly what he couldn’t have.

The anger hadn’t left his body, but some space was freed in favor of the pride that blossomed in his chest. His Gwyn.

With one maneuver he freed himself from Cassian’s grip to walk after Gwyn.

She wasn’t in the pantry or the kitchen. With more desperate strides he walked towards the laundry room, which was right beside the crew bedrooms. As he neared he could hear soft cries from Gwyn and Nesta’s bedroom.

When he came closer, he saw Gwyn on the bottom bed with Nesta next to her telling her all the things he wanted to say, “He’s an asshole. I will kill him, just say the word.”

He didn’t want to interrupt but he also desperately needed to hold her in his arms. One more step revealed his presence. Tearstained eyes looked up before she jumped up from the bed and into his arms.

With one look at Nesta, he silently said Thank you for being there for her. I got it from here.

He held her as close as their bodies allowed, rubbing reassuring circles on her back. He didn’t know what to say except “I know baby. I’m sorry.” Silently he wished he could hurt everybody who ever hurt Gwyn.

Her breathing started to increase and he felt her entire body tense. With a small step back, he forced her to look into his eyes “Hey” he urged “Breathe, breathe for me baby.”

“Look at me- look at me.”

“In and out. Breathe with me?” He needed to bring her back to this world, he had his fair share of panic attacks, and breathing normally was the first step to bringing her back.

“Keep your eyes on me- just focus on me.” He tried to keep as much of his fear from his eyes. Only reassurance.

“You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. I got you.”

“I got you” he repeated as her breathing steadied. Next, he grabbed her into his arms so tightly he needed to remind himself she just got air back into her lungs.

He would do anything Gwyn needed. Anything.

When she started to talk, his breath hitched in his throat “It reminded me of what happened in… in that hotel room. When Lucky almost…”

He held her tighter as if nothing could happen as long as he held her safely in his arms. “It feels as if I always have to be aware- of my surroundings, of people. As if I can’t ever fully trust someone or they will take advantage of me.”

“As if I constantly have to create my own safety.”

“I can handle him. But I hate that I need to.”

With one hand he lightly brushed some of her hair out of her eyes as he whispered, “I know baby, I know. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to function as a female in the industry. More money meant more privilege, and where those lines stopped often blurred at sea.

His hands itched for release, and his whole body urged him to find both males who hurt her and remind them exactly where that line was.

First, he needed Gwyn to be okay. To know that she was safe.

With one more breath, she reassured him, “I am okay. I am… I will be.”

Sadness left her voice when she added, “I’m going to check on Poppy, she has never done evening service by herself and I would hate for her to deal with them alone.”

With two of his scarred hands, he took his world in his hands, to look into her eyes one last time, her words could conceal what her eyes couldn’t. What he saw was sadness and determination- a terrible combination.

“Are you sure?”

“I am. I’ll see you tonight okay?”

“If you need anything radio me and I’ll be there in seconds.”

With a forced smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes, she gave him one last kiss on his cheek before she left to join Poppy upstairs.

When he was sure she was gone, he walked towards the guest's quarters. Dinner was almost over. 

Most people had a routine, wake up, scroll on their phone, work, sleep, repeat. Charter guests were similarly predictable. He made sure to know every routine on board, including Morrin’s. With one look at his watch, he said “Jacuzzi.”

Interception was easy, especially on a boat with not many ways to go. Just as he was about to open the door to his cabin, Azriel stepped out of the shadows to put his much larger hand on his. “Touch her and I will kill you.”

Morrin was not special. No matter what his mother told him every day. He knew these sorts of guys. He grew with them. He knew exactly which thoughts floated around their disgusting brains. All the rules they thought didn’t apply to them. Which crimes their dad could buy them out of. He felt no remorse as he said “Did I stutter?”

All the time in the navy was useful for learning how to navigate the seas, and some less traditional knowledge, he wasn’t lying when he warned, “I know fifty ways to kill a man. Perhaps you haven’t noticed in your drunken haze, but we’re in the middle of the ocean. I’ll drop your worthless body overboard and I will make sure you’ll never be seen again.”

With one more step, his much larger body hovered over his pathetic excuse of existence, “I’ll repeat. Look at her the wrong way, touch her with one finger, and I. Will. Kill. You.”

“Knod if you understand, you worthless piece of shit.”

Never in his life had he uttered those words, he had thought them, but he had never cared enough to say them into reality. Something deep inside him twisted at the possibility of hurt caused to Gwyn, and he would do everything in his power to never let that happen.

With pure hatred in his eyes, he stared down the cowering male in front of him, until his shaking head showed the sign of agreement. And Azriel could turn around to not have to look at his miserable face anymore.

--------------

Gwyn POV

Getting back into the routine of working helped get some of the awful feelings out of her head. With rougher movements, she cleaned the leftover plates. 

Outside of her thoughts, there was a serene peace in the kitchen- which was a rare occurrence on the always busy ship. The kitchen was spotless, the black and white checkered floor looked brand new, and the metal countertops gleaned in the harsh light. You could eat off every surface, except for the small space at the kitchen sink she currently occupied.

A black shape moved in the corner of her eye, was that… shadow? With a smile on her face, she thought about the best male she knew, the one she always felt safe around, Azriel.

As if she summoned him by thinking of him, the cedar smell found her before his hands did. With one featherlight brush over her hand, he signaled his presence. When she turned around, desperate for a calming kiss amongst the chaos in her mind, Mor entered the cramped space just before she made a career-ending mistake.

Azriel quickly salvaged the situation by offering “Can I help you with something?” Proving once again that man had nerves of steel.

In a teasing tone Mor responded “Ohhh, you have changed. The captain is helping?”

“Do you want to head to bed or not?” he responded.

“You got me there” she smiled. With a soft grab she pulled Gwyn to the side, to ask in a soft tone “Are you okay sweetie? I heard what happened at dinner, I’m so sorry. They are assholes. Do you want me to put poison in their drinks?”

With a smile, she replied, “Let’s see how tonight goes?”

Gwyn couldn’t imagine a better crew. Situations like these were worsened or salvaged by your surroundings, and in this case, it was definitely the latter.

With a smile, she reassured her “I’m fine. Really. Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight.”

“I’ll sleep like the dead, those people were ex-hau-sting,” she said as she walked down the stairs.

And then there were two.

Desire hung in the air every time he was near- she could not smell anything else, see anything else, or hear anything else.

Still, fear was mixed with desire. 

That was close. Too close. She doubted Mor would say anything, but she had to be more careful. Her ass was still on the line.

Even though her job had some less fun parts, she still loved it and didn’t want to lose it.

As soon as the door downstairs closed, Azriel came closer again, as if she was a magnet he couldn’t help but be pulled towards. He stood so close they shared a breath. His forehead rested against hers for a moment before he pulled her flush with his body into a tight embrace.

They remained like that for a while- silent and utterly content in their closeness, until he hesitantly asked, “Are you afraid of me too?”

“I am a male too, and I know-“With one finger on his mouth she stopped him from continuing, “Don’t think for one second you are anything like those guys.”

Her feelings were clear, but her brain didn’t seem to find the words to tell them. “Azriel-“

“It’s okay if-

 “There is nobody in this world I feel safer with. My heart eases when you are near. And I-“

“I feel safe with you Azriel. Always.”

With one hand on his cheek, she repeated, “Always.”

Without thinking, she kissed him with all the love she felt. In an instant, he granted her access, and with each stroke of her tongue, fear of being caught left her body.

As if she’d done it a thousand times before, she jumped into his arms, as he deposited her onto the counter. With a laugh, she paused the kiss, “I still need to finish the work.”

Which he answered, “Let’s go then.”

--------------

Quicker than should be possible, but not as fast as she wanted, they finished all the work in just under an hour. Everybody else was sound asleep, but not them, their beds would be used for other things tonight.

Standing behind her he suddenly asked, “What did you whisper to him?”

With a smile, she whispered into his ear, “That I did know where he stayed, and that I would cut off his prized possession if he ever touched me or any other stew again.”

As she removed her face from his ear, she looked into his eyes where pride replaced initial shock.

With two strong hands on her waist, he urged her to jump into his arms again. Their faces were so close they shared a breath as he said, “You continue to surprise me, Gwyneth.” He didn’t use her full name often but when he did, Gods, her entire body stood aflame.

Towering over him in his embrace, she had a vantage point to play with his hair. Normally she was too short to reach, so she took the opportunity gladly. In something that closely resembled a moan, she said “I love your hair.”

She swore she could feel a shiver run up his spine. An effect she could not discern in his voice when he asked “What else do you love about me?”

Everything. But she wasn’t quite ready to tell him that yet, she still feared rejection, instead, she said “Your voice, the way you treat your crew. Your arms aren’t bad to look at either.”

He smiled so broadly she could see his dimples, “this” she said as she touched one of them. With the same finger, she traced the black swirls slightly coming out of his white captain’s shirt “I love these.”

“The way you look at me.”

The air turned heavier, and silence filled the space. With a slow movement, she created a little bit of distance to look into his eyes where she saw fear. Did she go too far? Maybe he didn’t feel the same way and her big mouth made things too serious again.

Shit. Then she remembered. They shouldn’t be doing this. When would she learn? When she lost her job?

With hesitant moves, she started to leave the safety of his embrace for the safety of better choices, before he tightened his grasp and said with more sincerity than she ever heard in his words “Gwyn.”

“I-“

“I love you.”

“You have my whole heart if you want it.”

Instead of answering him, she kissed him with all the love she felt in her soul. Her being belonged to him. As did her heart and soul.

She had felt it that first night. That’s why it hurt so much when she thought he had left. Every part of her felt safe in his arms. In the calmness that felt like home every time he entered her space. In the way, her entire nervous system was set aflame by the way he looked at her. In the way, he looked at her like she was his entire world. Like nothing else existed outside her. She knew that look because that was how she looked at him too.

So she said “I love you too,” against his mouth.

“I am yours,” she added.

“Say that again”, he ordered or begged she couldn’t be sure. With one look into his eyes, she said “I am yours.”

“You are mine.” He almost growled in response, the sound went straight to her core.

“And you are mine” she answered.

In desperate strides he took her to the bridge, his arms never releasing her from his embrace.

As soon as she saw that door, she lowered her hand slightly to open it.

Her desperate kisses moved to his neck, where she lavishly sucked on the bare skin just below his collar, “mine” she emphasized. She made sure to suck hard enough to leave a little mark where it would be covered by his collar.

“Azriel,” she said in between kisses, “Yes, love.”

With a teasing smile, she said “I think it’s time for somebody else to be in charge tonight.” 

After everything that happened, her body craved control and she had a feeling with all the responsibility of Azriel’s daily occupation, he craved release.

The smile on his face and the hunger in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Lie down” she ordered. 

Without uttering a single word, he turned around so his back was to the bed with her still in his arms, when he slowly sat down on the bed.

With a slow suck on his earlobe, she was close enough to whisper “I still need to taste you.” 

A trail of goosebumps erupted from her touch.

With practiced ease, he started to remove his white shirt by carefully loosening all buttons one by one. Gwyn felt more urgency and lifted his shirt over his head in one swift pull- she was in control after all. 

In an instant, the perfect expanse of his chest was revealed. All obsidian swirls were visible for her eyes to worship, so she did what she had been wanting to do for quite some time now. “Close your eyes”, she instructed before soft strokes of her tongue traced each black piece of art.

Soft groans told her he might be enjoying it as much as she was.

When she gave every tattoo equal attention, she slowly removed herself from the bed. The first time she entered his bed chamber, she spotted the piece of rope on his desk. Part of being a crew member on a yacht was extensive knot knowledge. It was good practice to clear her head, and it didn’t hurt in the bedroom either- at least, not if you did it right.

She saw one of his eyes open slightly so she ordered “Keep them closed!” Azriel was utterly responsive to her words because he quickly closed them.

This was going to be fun.

“Move further back on the bed” she whispered into his ear. When he successfully did she gave him his next order “Move your hands to the bedpost.”

“What are you doing?” he questioned.

Even though she wasn’t going to take it too far tonight, it was good to have a safe word just in case. It would help her relax too, if she knew he had a way out would he need it.

“If you want to stop for any reason, say-“ she glanced around the room quickly “Books.”

She knew he craved control as much as she did so she added, “trust me.” It was as much a question as an order.

“I do,” he said solemnly. 

“Good.”

In one swift move, she bound both hands to separate bedposts in two perfectly made bowline knots. Every time she finished the knot, she placed a soft kiss on the area.

With one last tug, she inspected if it was tight enough to contain him, but not tight enough to hurt him.

A silk navy blue shawl was part of her stew uniform, it was a nice accessory and in special circumstances a useful blindfold.

When he was completely under her power, she licked his lips asking for entrance. His shocked reaction told her the blindfold worked perfectly.

With a soft bite on his lower lip, he opened his mouth. Their tongues found each other in their shared desperation to get closer. He tasted like… home. 

With soft sweeps of her tongue, she explored everything she wanted to. The sensation awakened a part of her soul that shut out the rest of the world completely. She became lost in the pure sensation of their mouths meeting, until roving hands found her ass in seconds and gripped it tightly to pull her closer towards him.

The possessiveness in his touch sent pleasure straight to her core and brought her back to both heaven and earth. She needed more. On instinct, she rolled her hips over his groin, and in rhythmic movements, she chased to achieve the friction she desperately needed.

“Hmm… Gwyn. I need…”

He didn’t need to say it. She felt it too, the huge bulge in his pants that pushed into her core more and more with each movement of her hips.

One of her hands moved towards the place where he needed her most. With slow rubs, she teased all that was to come. Alternating between featherlight touches, and more desperate heavy strokes.

She felt it, she knew it, but she needed to hear it so she ordered “Tell me how much you want me.”

“Gwyn. I need you.”

Even better.

Without delay, she moved further back on the bed. With desperate hands, she removed his shoes before she unbuckled his belt and slid off his pants in hasty pulls. She allowed herself one moment to look at the work of art lying before her on the bed. The obscenely muscular, enormous male, wearing nothing but black briefs- completely at her mercy.

The sight left her feeling dazed. She still couldn’t believe he was hers. And she was his.

She couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to taste him.

In preparation for later, she removed her clothes until she was only wearing her white lace bra and matching white lace slip.

With one finger she traced a path from his calve to his inner thigh. Her mouth replaced her finger when she placed soft kisses on both thighs before she traced the black streak of hair leading toward her destination. 

The sudden nearness made him buck up his hips. She responded by placing a soft kiss on his cock- as punishment or reward.

With one strong pull, she removed the last barrier between them. As soon as the fabric left his body, she could see the effect she had on him, as his huge, thick cock sprang free from its confinement. Would she ever get used to the sheer size of it?

With languid strokes, she dispersed the wetness all along his cock. She knew he liked it slightly rough, so she made sure to use a little bit of nails in her rhythmic strokes.

She desperately wanted to have his taste in her mouth again, so she quickly replaced her hands with her mouth. To give a little bit of warning she softly blew on the front of his tip before she licked from his underside to his shaft.

To make sure he knew exactly how much she liked it too, she moaned as soon as she put his huge cock in her mouth. Soft trembles of his hips told her she was doing well. 

This already went better than last time, when she could barely fit him in her mouth. She made sure to relax her gag reflex as she took him deeper and deeper. Soft gurgling noises told her she was almost there, then she felt the soft black hairs she had kissed moments ago. That meant… she had his entire cock in her mouth, and a sense of pride shot through her. With one finger she traced his upper thigh whilst she moved his cock in and out of her mouth, alternating between soft movements and more roughness by slightly using her teeth. 

He loved pain mixed with pleasure, as proven by the twitching of his cock in her mouth, he was close.

Too close. 

With one quick movement, she took him out of her mouth.

Let’s increase the pain a little bit.

With the elegance of a panther moving in on her prey, she slid her body over his to bring up his blindfold. She took up a seat just in front of his cock- which was so huge it must be aching. Without losing eye contact she moved her hand to her clit. 

The power she had over him turned her on more than she ever held possible combined with the way he looked at her with pure possession and awe, shivers travelled up her spine.

She was already close but she needed more. 

With soft flicks she played with her clit before she moved one finger inside her, pretending it was his. In and out, in and out, she was already so wet. But it wasn’t enough. 

She needed more, she needed him.

Anticipation marked his gaze. 

What would she do next?

Never leaving his eyes, she slowly moved back, just enough to-

“FUCK” he groaned as she lowered herself onto his cock.

She was still not used to his size, there was some resistance, even though she was so wet already. With soft movements, she slowly adjusted to his cock. Her breathing hitched as she finally reached the point she just had in her mouth. 

“Hmmm,” she moaned. Completely lost in the sensation. With closed eyes she rode him like her life depended on it, drowning in pleasure.

With two hands on his chest she moved her hips in circles, and to make him lose his mind she squeezed her center with every new movement. “Evil” he forced out of his mouth.

He was close too. One hand moved towards her clit to bring herself just as close, when she increased the movement of her hips to a torturously fast speed. “I’m clo-“ he was about to say when she covered his mouth with a hungry kiss.

With one more roll of her hips, all thoughts left her brain as every nerve ending lit up in pure ecstasy. All air left her lungs and all that was left was him. In her arms, in her core, in her mouth, in her soul. It was him. Only him.

He joined her seconds later when he groaned his relief into her mouth.

Still riding the high of her climax she whispered onto his mouth, “I love you”. 

Somehow those words caused a vision to appear in her mind, of him in the kitchen, playing with red-haired children as Shadow darted in between his legs and she felt at peace.

She didn’t think she could feel any better until he responded “I love you too.”

The crackling of the radio brought her back to earth. “Captain, you are needed on the bridge.”

 Both their gazes swept to the floor where the radio was deposited in a haze. “NOW” another voice boomed through the radio.

“Who is that?” Gwyn asked worriedly.

“My brother.”

“Cassian?” She could have sworn the first voice was Cassian’s.

“Rhysand.”

[the-friendliest-freak]

Poppy Playtime - Headcanons and Theories (and both combined)

The regular-sized toys (like the small Huggy from the Project Playtime trailer) were made from animals, the slightly bigger ones (like Bunzo and the Huggies from Whack-A-Wuggy) were made from orphans, and the big toys (Huggy and Mommy Long Legs) were made from employees

Rich becomes Huggy, Patty becomes Kissy. Since there were rules against employee relationships, and Patty and Rich were of a very small group to break that rule, they figured it’d be easier to use them for those roles rather than attempt to induce romantic affiliation with other subjects.

Marie joined Playtime Co because she liked the idea of being a part of so many children’s upbringings by providing them with the toys that would shape them

The human-to-toy transformation process isn’t magical or a soul-transference - the human bodies themselves are used, and they are consequently conditioned and brainwashed to act in-character (think of the movie Tusk, or don’t, it’s terrifying)

The toys were intended to be weapons of war, a mix of Trojan Horse and sleeper agent

The larger toys, like MLL, have prosthetic attachments, which is why they don’t bleed in some places but do bleed in others

I like to imagine each primary character had their childhood “stolen” from them in a sense.

Stella was a young girl during World War 2, and her desire to be a child again mostly originates from wanting a do-over

Avery grew up in a small, very religious town, with an alcoholic father and a distant mother. The local priest was very…fond of him. He still suffers Catholic guilt on a day to day basis.

More of a theory to explain why he has no last name but: Rich himself is an orphan, that’s why he’s somewhat reluctant to say what he’s doing is “for the orphans” - he either knows people would expect him to empathise, or he’s embarrassed about admitting it. Also the movie he references in chapter 2 is part of a series known for focusing on orphans (I have an alternative theory here that’s more ‘out there’). The fact that he has no last name at his age implies that he was never adopted at all

Jimmy Roth’s a self proclaimed “mama’s boy” and his father left for milk when he was 14 and never came back. He’s shit at spelling and grammar but super super good at math

With Patty as Kissy - Kissy’s lesser amount of control over her movements when compared to Huggy or MLL isn’t due to anything happening during the creation process. Patty struggled with motor control, and having longer limbs and a heavier head did not help with that

Avery has a massive acne problem. He doesn’t pick or touch his face, and he does all the correct things, he doesn’t know why he still breaks out

Rich struggles with regulating his volume. He knows there’s a volume rule, he just never knows how loud he’s being.

The Player was a scientist

Alternatively, The Player is a complete nobody

Due to the car crash sounds found in the game files, car models being found, as well as Rowan Stoll’s reference to Playtime Co sabotaging his car to make it crash, the Player might have suffered a similar fate, which is why they weren’t around when all the employees went missing - they were probably at the hospital recovering

Rich and Avery aren’t box-packers, but something higher-up. Think about it - Rich says that getting sent to the Reject Warehouse was a demotion, but he’s the only one working here and was in charge of managing calls to retailers, operating heavy machinery, and cataloguing failed prototypes - completely solo. If that’s a demotion, then he must’ve had a more complicated job than box-packer (I can’t imagine him being a manager though to be honest, especially with him referring to the higher-ups as separate from him and Avery, so who knows what he might’ve been?)

Avery knew a few magic tricks, but since he didn’t go to parties often there was rarely a good time to show them off…until working at Playtime Co. Rich has no idea how magic tricks work, so he’s always insanely impressed with whatever Avery shows him. It always cheers him up.

Playcare was founded around the same time Huggy was created (since Rich talks about how the warehouse has been flooded with orphanage junk recently in the same tape in which Avery asks where the Huggy boxes are being kept - if both of them have been working there for a while, as the tape implies, then Avery would know where they are kept if the tape takes place a while after Huggy’s creation. Judging by the fact that he doesn’t know, and Rich’s complaints about the “program”, then Playcare was likely founded around the time Huggy was created)

Out of Rich and Avery, Avery’s the one with zero chill. He just never shows it

Due to only the female toilets and female locker rooms being modelled in an unused map from chapter 1, the Player could likely be female (since it implies that those rooms would’ve been the only ones you would have entered)

Rich is autistic

[kardia-library-official]

...Actually, come to think of it, I do want to talk about it! I've actually wanted to make a rambly introspective post about h/c and related things for quite some time.

Part of it is, like, predictable stuff, Blame My Upbringing, whatevs. You know this story already. Let me start off by saying that my mom is a decent person despite her issues, and I do not blame her. She's just not the person to have around when you're suffering physically or emotionally in any way. No one in her family knows how to care for people without infantilizing them, she's not good in any situation she can't directly control, and she's a hypochondriac who is inexplicably mistrustful of medicine.

So I learned pretty early in life that showing discomfort of any kind was like spinning some godawful roulette wheel. Would I be treated like a toddler? Would she arbitrarily decide I was dying or something? Would I be dismissed altogether because Fixing Problems Means Problems Exist? Either way, my problem would not be solved, and something unpleasant would happen. So I became a champion Dog Moder pretty early in childhood, and didn't have glasses or an inhaler until I was 23. Good times!

Now, I think a lot of this is actually innate in me, and I'm just a cagey mesopredator of a person who doesn't like a fuss, so I think a big part of the issue is that we were mismatched. But everyone still needs care to some extent, even though I just kind of... Forgot I did, I guess? Especially because I never had an experience of care coexisting with respect, and would choose respect any day.

So yeah, common daydream scenarios for me, for most of my life, tended to involve someone noticing a stoic character's pain, and striving to alleviate it while also Not Making A Big Fuss. Loving, but casual and easy, and taking the person's actual needs and personality into account. That was my big unrealistic ideal, I guess. :P

...Luckily, my partner and I met as teens, and holy shit, care and respect at the same time!? Just, like, being gentle, and making sure I have what I need? And noticing that something's wrong even though I don't show a lot of outward signs, and wanting to help me actually fix it? Even two decades on, it's a huge novelty, and feels like home! So even though my needs are better met now, I still want to celebrate that, because it's transcendent! And it's also just what I know.

So yeah, that's my best explanation for the comfort half, but when it comes to the hurt...

...I'm just a morbid little creep. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Okay, okay, I'll try to actually explain!

I just have kind of a fascination with pain/illness/injury, probably as an extension of a general fascination with bodily workings and matters. I've always liked biology, and one of the first books I remember reading/looking through on my own is my aunt's old anatomy textbook from when she was in nursing school. It's just one of my Themes, y'know? I don't know if it's in spite or because of my poor interoception, honestly. (What the hell is going on in there!? Mysteries abound!)

So yeah, I've always had an interest in this stuff. Actually, when I wrote more original fiction, a lot of it bordered on body horror! And wish there was more opportunity to flex those muscles in the RF world... I loved writing the nightmare sequences in ATNG, and am itching for a chance to use/create my interpretations of how healing potions work (or rather don't), what the various status effects do and feel like, etc. (Unfortunately, I don't write enough action!)

Also, I think they're important topics! As I've said before, something going wrong with the body is familiar to pretty much everyone to some degree. And it's a visceral topic that can inspire big feelings, which is catnip to me as a Romantic! Plus, it's a great way to explore a character. (Thinking of that passage that says something to the effect of how you don't really know a person until you've seen them ill or grieving.) And it's just cathartic, especially if you're like me and have spent a lot of your life processing pain and discomfort alone in your head.

And... idk! I'm just a weird freaky goth girl at heart! I'm Marian! It's Not That Deep. Or as deep as I want it to be! Either way, I've been being weird about gross stuff for most of my life, and I'm still having too much fun to stop.

[elysian-noctuary]

Masoko Tomomi bio

THINGS / ASKS / HC / THREADS / MUSINGS

BASICS

Name: Tomomi Masoko

Ethnic background: Japanese

Nickname(s): Tiger woman

Age: 32

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 140 lbs

Species: Human

Sex and pronouns: Female (She/Her)

Birthday: October 12th

Orientation: Bisexual

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Masoko is a fairly tall woman. She has light skin, long bleached hair with dark brown roots, and piercing gold eyes that can stare daggers into your soul. There is a beauty spot on the apple of her left cheek under her eye.

Usually, she will never be seen without her round, light sunglasses and leather cropped jacket.

TATTOOS – Masoko tries to conceal her tattoos as much as possible, but she has to have them for her technique. She has a tiger in the center of her back along her spine, daggers and bottles of poison on her left forearm, the great wave on her left shoulder. More to come.

PERSONALITY

Masoko is a very strong individual. She won't take kindly to others insisting they help with a problem of hers-- she will most likely take it as an insult, and refuse anything from the person for a long time. Despite her upbringing and appearance, she is quite kind, thoughtful, and willing to risk her life for people who are weaker than her.

She has a heart behind the frightening eyes of a tiger, and is willing to take anyone under her wing if they are truly in need.

CURSED TECHNIQUE

CURSED INK – Masoko is able to control the tattoos that have been put onto her body through curse-infused ink. Whether it be a depiction of a sentient creature or an object, she can bring it out and use it as an ally, or aid in her fights.

INK PENS -- Masoko has special pens filled with her cursed ink she can lend to certain individuals she trusts. She has three tattoos that she can transfer to a person if they have possession of her pens. Once she transfers one of the tattoos to a person, they can imbue her pen with their own cursed energy to activate her technique. Once the technique is released, the tattoo on the person will fade, and cease use of the pen as the tattoo fades back onto Masoko's body.

BACKSTORY

The Tomomi clan created a small sect of followers over the years as they perfected their technique of cursed ink. While they built up their technique and strengthened it over time, their name became something to be wary of. How they gathered the ink to use was never a good thing-- manipulating other humans to turn them into curses, draining them of their essence to imbue into ink stones and ink wells. Once people outside of the Tomomi clan found out how they obtain their ink, they were shunned from the rest of the villages they were a part of. In turn, the Tomomis began a small ring that held ties with the Yakuza.

Even if they themselves didn't hold a miraculous amount of power within the Jujustu world, the Tomomis were held in regard to their criminal activities. With a lot of traditions held, their family heavily discouraged women going for a position of power, both in and outside of their secret worlds. Masoko, being one of the very few members who held the cursed ink sigil, thought otherwise.

Masoko caused her family a ton of grief when she learned she was one of the bearers of the cursed ink users. She fought them every chance she got to prove them wrong, often landing her with tons of bruises and threats on her life if she didn't comply with their commands.

At the age of 16, Masoko left without a word and joined Jujustu high in Tokyo where she met a small group of people who barely knew her name. She grew extremely fond of the unbreakable bonds she made with her friend, Shohei Hanagaki.

Years had gone by when her and her ragtag group of friends graduated, Masoko found out about her best friend's passing, and his son being abandoned in the states. She was 26 when she legally adopted Adrian Hanagaki at the age of 16.

From there, Masoko helped Adrian adapt to his new setting and life, and she will defend him even if she dies for it.

TRIVIA

Masoko was an underclassmen when she met Adrian’s father.

When it comes to Adrian, she never liked it when he was formal with her; she always demanded that he call her by her given name, Masoko, instead of Tomomi-san.

Her anime/manga faceclaim is Noah Austin from Windbreaker.

[katsushika-division]

“I spoke fire, laughed smoke, and madness spilled forth from my inspiration.”

Introduction

Akari Himura is the younger sister of Death Row Block's Rintaro Himura and is currently a high school student. She is not really known for anything besides being the younger sister of the worst terrorist in Japanese history. However unbeknownst to anyone besides a few people Akari is the criminal known as “Cinder” who has become a force to reckon with in Japan’s criminal underground.

Akari is a young girl of above-average height with a slim figure. She has dark red shoulder-length hair that she temporarily dyes black when she goes out as Cinder. She has sharp gold eyes with a blank look in them. She wears an orange t shirt with a black leather jacket over it. She also wears a pair of black shorts, a red belt that, similarly to her older brother, has a set of handcuffs acting as a buckle with chains hanging from the sides and a set of black tights underneath. On her feet are a set of black ankle boots. Her accessories include a black leather choker and a silver cuff bracelet on her left hand.

As Cinder, she wears a full-length body suit made out of a kevlar weave. The suit is black with dark red accents. Akari wears a black overcoat made out of similar material as her suit with a metal cuff at the end of each elbow-length sleeve. The hem ripped, extending down to her knees. On her hands, she wears a set of futuristic black gauntlets that extend halfway up her forearm. On her feet, Akari wears a set of black heavy-duty steel-toe boots. For accessories, Akari wears a black utility belt around her waist and a matching combat pouch on her left leg, around her thigh. Finally, to complete her look, Akari wears a black high-tech gas mask on the bottom half of her face that glows a dark red.

Name Meanings

Himura (火村) - Fire Village 

Akari (明璃) - Bright Glass 

Aliases

“Cinder”

Younger Sister of the High-Rise Bomber 

Kari-chan - Touya 

Devilspawn, Unnatural, Freak, etc. - Various Foster Parents 

Biographical Info

Gender - Female

Age - 15

Birthday - November 9th 

Ethnicity - Japanese

Hair Color - Dark Red / Black (Dyed) 

Eye Color - Gold 

Height -  175cm / 5’8 

Weight -  101lbs / 46kg

Star Sign -  Scorpio 

Piercings -  Lobes, Double Helix 

Markings - Burn scars across her back, and upper arms, Lacerations across the back of her legs 

Family 

Father (Deceased)

Mother 

Older Half-Brother

Voiced By - Nanami Urara (Rapping)

Personality

Akari is a genius, a prodigy, and could revolutionize the world with her inventions....if anyone knew that about her that is. Akari could indeed use her intelligence to help the world but honestly, she doesn't give a damn. She actively hides her intelligence from the public and appears to show little interest in matters that are going on around her. However, Akari is highly determined when she sets her mind to a task, often dealing with any problems presented to her efficiently and competently.

Akari is a person of few words and highly values her privacy and many people view her as a negative, pessimistic, and sarcastic individual. Akari is also very apathetic and easily bored to an unhealthy and abnormal degree. Her troubled upbringing appears to have made her have a hard time actively expressing herself. Despite this, Akari is fiercely loyal and protective of the few people she cares about.

Whenever she’s out as Cinder, Akari is cunning, extremely manipulative, violent, and cruel. Destroying and wreaking havoc without a care in the world and using some of her crueler inventions on people. Many in the underworld fear her because she has no issue with killing if they get in her way. Another notable thing is her obsession with fire, and in fact, it seems to be far worse than Rintaro’s, although she has better control over it. 

Trivia

Akari has a vicious hatred of the foster care system. In no part due to when she was 8 years old her foster mother at the time attempted to drown her in the bathtub calling her nothing more than the devil's spawn. She retaliated by setting the house on fire with her foster mother trapped inside. 

She is best friends with Ryōhei Nakashima and frenemies with Nagisa Sano the younger brothers of Kobe's Ren Nakashima and Kaiji Sano respectively. They are one of the few besides her family that knows her identity.

She was given the offer to join Scorpion Den but to their surprise declined, stating "she already had a family" but is willing to join them in missions from time to time. 

An All Points Bulletin (APB) is currently out for her alter ego and is currently one of Chuohku’s most wanted criminals. 

She has a photographic memory and is able to recall things from when she was two. 

[stitching-in-time]

Voyager rewatch s1 ep13: Faces

I remember this one very well, it's definitely an interesting one, even if my feelings about it have shifted over the years. I don't like it now as much as I used to.

It's well directed, the actors do a fantastic job. The concept of separating someone's DNA to create two separate people is a little wild, but obviously it was meant to be an excuse for a character study episode for B'Elanna, so I'll go with it. It's an interesting story device for a character who feels caught between two worlds to have what they feel to be the two sides of themself actually talk to each other face to face, but I feel like the premise of that is actually kind of flawed.

Since B'Elanna's mixed species heritage is obviously meant to be a metaphor for mixed race heritage, I think it's iffy to have the whole crux of the story be that Klingons' and humans' differences are inately baked into their DNA rather than cultural, since the idea that people of different races are inherently different biologically was used to justify racist ideology in human society for centuries.

Secondly, I think it's too simplistic to make generalizations like 'her Klingon side is brave', and 'her human side is a meek scaredy cat'. Aside from the fact that it's incredibly misogynist to assume that human women are inherently meek and unable to control their fear (seriously? When women have to be on high alert, constantly vigilant, in risk assement mode just to walk down the street and go about our lives? Women are way tougher and braver than men will apparently ever realize) it's also not taking into account that both 'sides' of B'Elanna had the same upbringing, influences, and experiences, and would in all likelihood have the same response to any given situation. Are they really implying that only a Klingon woman would get angry and resentful and want to beat the crap out of people who cross her after being treated like crap by her own family and community? And that a human woman couldn't possibly feel or act that way? Are you kidding?

There were also a lot of weird little inconsistencies that bothered me; if the Klingons are the only species the Vidians have met that are immune to the phage, why don't any of the workers they've kidnapped have it?? Why didn't Voyager rescue any of the other people the Vidians captured when they had the forcefield down?? Especially that Talaxian guy that was helping them- Voyager crew really gonna be like 'thanks, bye, have fun being enslaved and harvested for body parts'?! And if that Vidian scientist was onto maybe curing the phage, maybe they should have captured him and taken a look at his work, because if by some chance Klingon DNA could have provided a cure, wouldn't it be in the best interests of everyone in the quadrant to not have Vidians marauding around killing people for their organs, to say nothing of curing them of a terrible disease? Isn't helping to cure plagues and stuff on distant planets what Starfleet is all about? (And was that a holocaust joke when the Vidian guard took B'Elanna away?! What. the. hell?!)

I'm sure they were trying to make an episode about accepting all the sides of yourself you don't like, but that's really hard when the assumption that her Klingonness is somehow a problem to be solved, is never challenged. The scene where B'Elanna talks about the racism she experienced growing up, and how she learned to feel ashamed of being Klingon, are truly heartbreaking, and sadly continue to be all too relevant in our society today. But it undercuts any message of acceptance by never actually having B'Elanna, or any other character, acknowledge that being Klingon isn't a bad thing in and of itself, nor is it something she has to fight or keep under wraps to be loved and accepted by anyone, including herself. That should have been the central message, but it was completely sidestepped, probably because a lot of her storylines end up being about having to control her 'scary Klingon side'. (Which honestly I think is also rooted in misogyny, since Worf never got told he was too scary or too Klingon by anyone around him, or tried to be less Klingon- in fact, most of his storylines were the exact opposite- trying to reconnect with his noble Klingon warrior heritage. Why is it noble for male characters to be tough Klingon warriors, but for female characters it's 'too much' and a 'problem' to be solved?)

The episode's ending basically outright said that B'Elanna can never be at peace being half human and half klingon, she'll always have to fight with herself. That's just awful, honestly. And from a psychological standpoint, very unhealthy. Othering and isolating parts of yourself that you don't like as separate from you is something that you're not supposed to do- it paves the way to dissociation and hinders healing rather than helping. (I have someone close to me who's struggled with Dissociative Identity Disorder, so I'm really sensitive when it comes to this subject.)

It makes me upset too that none of the characters B'Elanna talks to about any of these feelings reassure or validate her at all. Like, as a friend, you're always supposed to tell someone who's struggling with self-worth that they're good enough as they are, that they didn't deserve to be treated the way they were treated, and that they're loved and valued. How hard would that really be to have any of these characters say that?

I give Paris more of a pass for not knowing what to say when she drops this stuff on him, since they don't know each other very well at this point. He's lived a privileged Starfleet brat life and probably doesn't understand that comparing racism to a bad haircut is deeply tone deaf and unhelpful, but it's not surprising he would be awkward when someone who's really just his coworker at this point suddenly starts sharing deeply personal stuff. Chakotay, though, has been close friends with her for some time, and when she's tearfully telling him how she feels like she'll always be at war with herself, he doesn't say a damn thing, he doesn't put a hand on her shoulder, no gestures of kindness or encouragement, he just looks awkward and leaves silently like 'yeah, I guess you'll always be miserable! Bummer, nothing to be done!' Like, what?! No! No no no! That's just wrong, both from an in universe perspective- as her friend, he wouldn't be that cold- and from a story perspective- what a terrible thing to imply, that it's impossible to get to a better place or find peace with yourself after being mistreated. Why end the episode on such a negative note? I mean sure, they had the whole thing about how she needs her Klingon side, and it can help her in some situations, but that's still othering parts of herself and leaving her feeling just as bad as before. While Roxann Dawson was doing an absolutely fantastic job acting-wise with all of this, I feel like she deserved a better episode that didn't treat B'Elanna's existence as some kind of unfortunate, hopeless tragedy.

Tl;dr: While the acting was good, I don't like the dim view it takes of the possiblity of healing from a traumatic upbringing, or the implication that her mixed heritage itself is the source of her inner conflict, rather than the bad treatment she recieved because of other people's prejudice against her.

[kennheir]

@lunarfey

‘ sometimes it feels like someone else is wearing my body . ’

BELLE NEVER THOUGHT SHE'D EVER FIND ANYONE ELSE WHO UNNDERSTOOD. Something in her very body is different, from the rest of the Pack. Itchy and weird when human too long, senses geared up to a million, every part of her brain SCREAMING to run and change. The other Crescents don't have this problem, can go about their day like actual normal people. (Her mom said it was because she had always been a wolf, born and not triggered, but her eyes had always looked so sad when she'd said it.)

"Right? Feels like everyone else has it easier, under control, and you're just stuck wondering what the hell is wrong with you?" Hayley Marshall-Kenner had tried her best to give her daughters a normal upbringing, to love them for who they are, but that doesn't stop the rest of the world and their judging eyes.

[elspeth-tirel]

Access's Lore below the cut

The woman known as Althea Felicia Fore, AKA Access, is the only character i have ever made where *i* am the one who hates her most. Althea was born to well off Silicon Valley parents in the same universe as NORA a natural metahuman; she has the inherent ability to perfectly read, write, and speak anything abstractly defined as a "language". After a life of privilege and seeing the world suffer, she decided it was up to her to fix things, using her gift to become an incredible Hacktivist. However, her perception of what is a problem is distorted by being Terminally Online and being a classical weeaboo and proud fujoshi. hearing about NORA from sources online, she became obsessed. with NORA's processing power, she could take over the world, and make everything perfect by micromanaging everything in existence under her direct control. Surely if she could just convince NORA that a few people dying is a small sacrifice to a better world, she would let Althea take over her brain and use her as the ultimate weapon to make everything Perfect and form her own utopia. For her part, NORA disagrees, but it's not like she can arrest Althea as every time she tries to fight her, Althea hacks her body to stop working, forcing her to reluctantly accept her presence and try not to Set Her Off and make her realize NORA will never agree with her.

For an out of character note in this backstory (call it my Reading Comprehension note), the problem with Althea is not that she is Cringe, or that she's a hacktivist. that's fine. what makes her a villain is her want to leap into solving every problem without consulting anyone actually affected by those problems due to her privileged upbringing, and without consideration of the consequences of her actions on a large scale. her problem is not a want to enact change, it is that she always assumes that no matter what her way is the right way and everyone else must be wrong.

Trick or treat 🎃!

Have Althea! Please.... don't make me keep her....

[whitetherapy]

Reasons your dad doesn’t want you dating a black man (and why you should!)

You’ve probably noticed that even today, there is still a sort of “buzz” around interracial relationships in the white community. While not exactly taboo you find that interracial couples still tend to get certain “looks” especially from older white men.

Now I know what you’re thinking, your dad seems to fall into this category, your mind rushes to all those off-color, not so PC remarks you’ve heard him say over the years, there’s no way, surely he can’t be a racist... right? 

Well don’t worry! This post will help explain the motivations behind some of these attitudes and why the fact that they are so common in the white (mostly male) community is actually a big indicator of the desirability and benefits of interracial relationships.

4. Black men are more successful.

You’ve probably noticed since high school that black boys mature a lot quicker than their white counterparts. In fact black men tend to “tick off” a lot of milestones faster than white boys. They lose their virginity earlier, move out earlier, pass their driving test earlier... the list goes on. They also tend to be more positive, have more motivation and, naturally, have a lot more sex.

This means that white girls and black boys get into relationships a lot younger than a white dad might expect. This no doubt plays on his protectiveness, as he is worried that his little girl is growing up too fast, he may seem to be hesitant about letting her date. You should take his nervousness as a testament to the desirability of  black men as partners.

All in all this one’s relatively straight forward, if you want a more mature, exciting and positive relationship with a man who’s got his shit together, your best bet is to go black. 

3. Black men are more confident.

Assertiveness, Swagger, “BDE”, call it what you want but black men certainly got it and it shows. He’ll take control and make sure to give you what you need while not being afraid to handle fiery, passionate relationships. Whether he’s making you laugh or making you moan, his cool confidence will shine through reassuring you that you made the right choice. 

Your dad of course may not be very understanding of this, mistaking your boyfriend’s confidence for cockiness, perhaps feeling a little pang of dread as he thinks about his intentions with you. By taking every opportunity to show off how happy and healthy your relationship is, those worries should quickly disappear, he too will be able to see how safe you are in your lover’s big strong arms.

2. Black men are more dominant.

If you like men who know what they want and are happy to take charge then you’ll find a black man is ideal for you. He’ll treat you right, make sure you’re taken care of, and provide healthy masculine energy to your life and relationship. In the bedroom, he’ll have no problem being in control and won’t shy away from fulfilling any submissive fantasies you have. 

With the persistence of toxic (white) male culture in our society, it should come as no surprise that your dad may see your lover’s natural, effortless dominance as a threat. He may become insecure, to him, your relationship calls into question whether or not he’s still the “man of the house”. While this will no doubt cause much drama and undeserved headaches for you, it helps to support your boyfriend whenever he displays any sort of dominance over your dad. This is good practice for both,  and you can take comfort in the fact that your lover’s presence is helping him learn about healthy masculinity by showing him what a real man is.

1. Black men are more physically gifted.

It’s no secret that when in comes to height, athleticism and, shall we say, “length”, black men take the gold medal. Sexual compatibility and satisfaction is an important aspect of relationships that is too often overlooked by women. You’ll find sex with a black man to be a much deeper experience, you’ll find yourself feeling things you may not have felt before and finding it hard to keep your hands off each other. These new sexual adventures will no doubt also lead to a much stronger sense of intimacy between you and your partner, for a much more satisfying relationship overall.

As for your dad, you may be thinking “why in the world would he even be thinking about something like this?”. And you’d be right, it’s actually rather sad but the culture most white men grow up in has very creepy patriarchal ideas about men’s “ownership " of women's bodies. It does little good to be mad at him about it, he’s not entirely to blame, after all his upbringing was probably saturated with the influences of toxic masculinity and white fragility. To get to the point, these influences are what causes him to project certain unhealthy ideas onto your relationship, men tend to have very primitive views on sex so it’s easiest to explain these ideas in very basic biological terms. To put it simply: penis envy, a bigger (i.e. more masculine/dominant), blacker (i.e. foreign/different), cock is screwing his daughter and there is nothing he can do about it. That thought wraps his feelings of submissiveness into a neat little emasculating package, a package he gets to peek into it every time he thinks about your relationship.

In conclusion understanding that uncomfortable part of his psyche should help you realise that his qualms about your relationship are really self inflicted, silly little insecurities brought about by the antiquated culture he grew up in. There’s no reason to let it bring you down, after all, It’s not your fault that a bigger penis with a darker complexion is all it takes shatter your dad’s fragile masculinity.

[the-blue-fairie]

Elsa’s scars are because of a complex interplay between the pain of the accident AND the pain of her upbringing thereafter.

I talk about the ways  in which the trolls’, Agnarr’s, and Iduna’s choices negatively impact Elsa and Anna a great deal. It’s a complex subject to discuss - and I feel like I’m always returning to it because the fandom often tries to reduce it to black and white.

On the one hand, there are people in the fandom who vehemently dislike Agnarr and Iduna and portray them very negatively.

On the other hand, there are people who love Agnarr and Iduna and try to defend their every action, even when their actions hurt their daughters.

And... the trolls don’t usually get brought up at all. I mean, there are definitely folks who point out that the trolls are to blame for stoking the whole royal family’s fears... but I don’t think people can see their pain as easily in the abstract magical characters’ actions, so they just don’t dwell on them as much.

In my opinion, both extremes are approaching the matter in the wrong way. I don’t agree with people who hate Agnarr and Iduna. I don’t agree with people who paint them simply as abusive parents. In both the first film and the second, Agnarr and Iduna are good people trying to do their best in a painful situation. BUT, at the same time, their parents’ actions and the trolls’ actions hurt both of the sisters - and I feel like, when people bend over backwards to defend their actions, people ignore the hurt they caused.

AND, in some ways, I feel like the second film encourages this black and white thinking. The second film WANTS viewers to ignore the negative ramifications of the trolls’ and the parents’ actions. That’s why the film proper never discusses Agnarr’s and Iduna’s or the trolls’ actions while the sisters were children - opting instead for the tie-in book Dangerous Secrets to discuss those events... a tie-in book that, however well-written, will only reach a select audience while the films will reach a far wider audience.

This bothers me because it usually means I see people ignoring many of the external forces that caused Elsa to grow into who she is as a character.

In some cases, these are people who simply treat Elsa like a bad person because they ignore all the context that informs why she behaves like she does.

BUT, at the same time, I have friends who are deeply sympathetic to Elsa... but can’t seem to process how deeply Elsa’s upbringing informed who she grew up to be. 

Like, I’ve had long discussions with friends who have told me that, if Elsa was raised differently, she would still grow up the same because her trauma comes from the accident.

I feel this represents a gross misunderstanding of how child development works.

Yes, Elsa was devastated by the accident. But consider her actions and body language immediately thereafter:

Her first instinct is to run to Anna and hold her in her arms. Even after her parents coming rushing in and her father asks what she has done, she defends herself, saying, “It was an accident. I’m sorry, Anna.” She still holds Anna close:

Elsa has to be taught to recoil, to shrink away, to keep her distance from Anna.

Elsa’s fear is learned. We only see her truly starting the pattern of shrinking away, of curling inside herself with fear of herself after Pabbie shows her an ominous vision, telling her there is “danger” in her powers.

A fear of herself that continues thereafter, after she has processed that she is and so begins to see herself as a danger:

Yes, the accident itself scarred Elsa. But to say that, “If Elsa was raised differently, things would have turned out the same because her trauma emerges from the accident” is simply wrong. 

Elsa was a child being influenced by adult authority figures who ultimately failed her.

Pabbie igniting a vague and fiery vision of danger before an impressionable child influenced her, helped to cement the idea in Elsa that she is naturally dangerous.

Agnarr and Iduna separating the sisters reinforces to Elsa that there is something wrong in her - something she has to repress.

Keep in mind, I’m NOT saying this to demonize Agnarr and Iduna. As this moment shows, they are heartbroken the more Elsa shrinks from them. They love their daughter, and hate to see her hurting like this: 

BUT that doesn’t change the fact that their actions helped to hurt her. Inadvertently, I know. But they still did.

To ignore the influence of the adult authority figures on who Elsa became is to ignore the complexity of how children interact with the world, how they respond to elders who are in positions of power. Elsa trusts the signals given by the adults around her. When Pabbie tells her there is “great danger” in her powers, she believes him. When her parents tell her that it is a necessity that she isolate herself and conceal herself, she trusts them.

Sometimes, certain people make much of the nuances of Pabbie’s words  or Agnarr’s words. They point out that Pabbie also says there is beauty in Elsa’s powers and that “Fear will be your enemy” also refers to Elsa’s inner fear of herself. They comment that “Conceal it, don’t feel it” is not the same as “Conceal, don’t feel.”

The thing is, these readings put the blame on Elsa for misunderstanding - instead of putting the blame on the adults for inadvertently imparting hurtful messages to a child.

It shouldn’t be placed on the shoulders of a child to decipher a cryptically worded aphorism. It should be on the adult figure, especially when this adult figure is an ancient and wise being.

And really, for all the distinctions between “Conceal it, don’t feel it” and “Conceal, don’t feel,” their essence is still the same. The misguidedness of concealment, of not feeling something that is a part of you, is still rooted in the words regardless of which version we choose.

 Elsa, as a child, was still told by the adults around her that she should keep her distance from others for their protection and so, as she grew older, she took that more and more to heart. She grew into what she had been taught - even though the teaching initially came from a good-hearted place.

Sometimes, I’ve had my friends ask me, “But by putting all this focus on Elsa’s influences growing up, are you sure you’re not losing focus on the pain Elsa feels because of the accident itself?” And... no, I’m not. That’s why the title of my post is, “Elsa’s scars are because of a complex interplay between the pain of the accident AND the pain of her upbringing thereafter.” Because I WANT this post to be a nuanced reflection.

But... if Pabbie hadn’t shown a vague and terrifying vision to and impressionable child and her frightened family... you can’t tell me things would have been the same.

If Iduna and Agnarr hadn’t limited Elsa’s contact with people, you can’t tell me things would have been the same.

A friend once pointed to the trail of ice Elsa makes on the journey to the Valley of the Living Rock, arguing that this shows Elsa’s loss of control and panic before Pabbie stresses that she is dangerous - and therefore arguing that this highlights that things would still turn out the same for Elsa growing up even if the trolls and her parents made different choices because she fears what she can do:

I feel my friend’s reading here is... a bit of a stretch. Elsa is scared, yes, but the self-hatred that defines her as an adult? That comes later. That, she has to learn. And it is that self-hatred and fear of herself that paralyzes her.

And I’ve had friends point out, “But Elsa WAS dangerous! She DID hurt Anna, and that’s tied into her stress with wanting to protect her, and that was before the trolls or her parents had any involvement...”

I don’t like this take because it seems to put an impossible amount of weight on Elsa as a child. It asks Elsa as a child to be perfectly composed. To not be scared for her sister’s safety. To... not feel.

It’s a take that follows the misguided logic the film ultimately refutes while defending the mistakes that caused that misguided logic to do so much harm.

And, yeah. Sure. Elsa becomes scared. In the ballroom and riding through the forest. She’s a tiny child.

That doesn’t justify teaching her to fear herself, actions that only make the problem far, far worse.

 And you can say, “Well, the adults didn’t MEAN to teach Elsa that-” I know they didn’t mean to do it.

But showing a terrifying light-show to a little girl will impact her, regardless of what Pabbie meant. Especially when he does not clarify.

But slamming the gates shut will have a powerful psychological effect on both Elsa and Anna, regardless of what their parents meant.

Elsa was a child.

Children learn from their surroundings. They respond to the actions of adults they trust, adults they love. While the accident itself impacted Elsa, we cannot ignore that the way she was brought up thereafter also had a profound effect on the way she saw the world, the way she responded to the world. 

Elsa was a child being influenced by adult authority figures who ultimately failed her - and the fact people are so willing to put the weight of that on a child instead of the adults surrounding her is troubling to me.

The fact that the second film kind of tacitly puts the weight of that on Elsa’s shoulders by only making abstract references to “fear” - instead of openly talking about the complex circumstances Elsa and her parents found themselves in - is troubling to me as well. It allows viewers to disregard the more complicated elements of Elsa’s relationship with her parents and only focus on the positives the second film puts on display.

(Keep in mind, I DON’T intend this post to be anti Agnarr and Iduna. I love them as characters - ESPECIALLY Iduna, with the backstory F2 offers. Agnarr and Iduna are good people. They are loving parents. They were put in a horribly complicated position... and ultimately their actions - for all their good intentions - had negative consequences.) 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Positive

Cult girl and Hannibal find a way to turn a life-altering mistake to their favor.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: accidental pregnancy, discussion of abortion, adoption, slight emetophobia

Another week passed and the 'hangover' didn't subside. Then a third week passed, so you had to give up the façade and just admit you were sick. Hannibal was smugly concerned, but not alarmed. It paid to have a doctor for a fiancé. Studying could be done from bed and you needed to be in perfect working order to burn down your grandmother's country club and fully enjoy it.

Hannibal wasn't so much of a hypochondriac that he denied you affection while bed-ridden. That, or he didn't believe what you had was contagious. Whatever it was.

It wasn't until you woke up late, just days before the start of the new semester, that you discovered. You hobbled blindly to the bathroom to take your medicine. You were fully prepared to drop to your knees and vomit in the toilet and you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and slip back into sweet unconsciousness. Not even microdosing meth could keep you awake.

You slid your birth control packet out of its sleeve. You were halfway through the green placebo pills, so you were sure that didn't help how miserable you felt. This period sure had a hell of a build-up.

That's when a number caught your eye.

It was a number you weren't even previously aware existed. A date on your birth control packet. Dated three months prior.

You weren't lucid enough to comprehend what it meant, but once it hit you, you spit the pill into the sink.

Expired. You thought. How the fuck do pills expire?

No. No. No. No.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You called back. "I... just need to take a shower."

You turned the faucet on. It was a bad lie and he would figure it out eventually, but you couldn't involve him. Not yet. You needed a minute alone to think.

You found the pregnancy test you stashed under the sink all those years ago. You double-checked the lock, then began the test. There was no romantic or even palatable way to describe the process of peeing on a stick, quietly as possible, to avoid your frankly terrifying fiancé's notice. Once it was done, you wrapped the still-loading test in toilet paper and shoved it back under the sink.

You had no idea how long it would take to give you a result. Or if waiting four years to use it would give you a false result. There was so much you didn't know.

You jumped into the shower and washed up, trying to push all thoughts of panic out of your head. It didn't work. You went right into bury-the-body mode. A fall down the stairs could best pass for an accident, but had the unintended consequences of severe bodily harm. You wondered if those special herbal teas actually worked and where you'd find one. Or, instead of investing in gimmicky, pseudo-scientific abortion teas or throwing yourself down a flight of stairs, you could just talk to him.

You sat on the bathroom floor in a towel for what felt like hours, holding the mummified pregnancy test between your fingers. It took all your strength to rip through the tissue paper and confirm what you already knew.

A big, obnoxious pink plus sign. Almost like it was rubbing it in.

Your head was screaming just talk to him. He was your goddamn fiancé. The man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. But you couldn't tell him. Not after what he said at the country club.

"Hannibal?" You called out, voice weak. "Can you come here, please?"

He opened the bathroom door to find you huddled against the sink wearing nothing but a towel. It was a sight that would make anyone freak out.

"My god, [F/N]." He took a knee beside you. "Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

You gestured to the pregnancy test at your side. You hugged your knees into your chest and waited for him to process everything.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on birth control?"

You covered your face with your hands. "I did too. Nobody told me that the pills actually expire."

Then came the question that you were dreading.

"What do you want to do?"

That was why you were hesitant to tell him. Not because he would try to make a decision for you, but because he wouldn't.

"I don't know." You blurted out. "What do you want to do?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "You know I can't tell you that. You need to decide for yourself."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." You threw your head back in exasperation. "I'm just asking for a little direction. You said you definitely wanted to have kids-"

"Not like this." He cut you off. "Not when it would derail your entire career.” 

“Look, you know I was on the fence about having kids at all.” You rambled, just trying to collect your thoughts. “But then you described what you wanted for us and it just sounded so nice.” 

“Darling, I am begging you,” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Please, decide for yourself and only yourself.” 

“I’m trying!” You objected. “I just need a second to think.” 

“Don’t think, just answer.” He implored. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want to get an abortion.” You blurted out before slapping your hand over your mouth. 

“Was that really so hard to say?” Hannibal asked, voice broken with relief. Relief of what, you couldn’t place. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “It was, a little.” 

“Why?” He tilted his head curiously. “And please don’t say it was because of me.” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, hiding your face again. “I just learned I was pregnant, like, five minutes ago. I shouldn’t be expected to make a choice this massive without at least ten minutes to think about it.” 

“Do you really want to get an abortion?” He asked. 

Your voice wobbled with uncertainty. “No... yes?” 

“I see.” He said, as if this were just a point of academic curiosity that didn’t involve him whatsoever. “Is there a part of you, no matter how small, that wants to see the pregnancy to term?” 

“Well, yeah. Thus the basis of my uncertainty.” You threw your hands up. “But I also know it’s insanely unrealistic to think I could just speedrun my last two years of school and however long it takes to establish a career just to get to the domestic bliss.”

“You would do good to not expect motherhood to be a blissful retirement plan, love." Hannibal gently scorned. "Parenting takes just as much commitment as your studies. Likely more."

"I know." You bashed your palms against your forehead. "I said it was unrealistic, didn't I? Look, I just don't foresee any worthwhile outcomes if I carry this pregnancy to term. Even to put it up for adoption just seems selfish. Why bring a kid into the world just to set them up for a shitty life?"

Hannibal paused, and looked off into the distance pensively.

"If you could forgive me a hypothetical," He began. "What if we could guarantee them a wonderful life?"

"Are we talking philosophy, or do you have an actual suggestion?" You probed.

"A bit of both, depending on where your mind takes you." He smirked as if he were about to say something very clever. "What if Beatrice [L/N]'s estate made sure our child had a safe, comfortable upbringing? With a weighty college trust fund in their name, naturally."

You couldn't tell if this was brilliant or insane. It all depended on how 'hypothetical' the whole situation really was. Either way, you were interested.

"Go on." You urged, letting the idea slither into your mind.

"There's nothing in the will that specifically states we must raise the child ourselves." He recounted. "Only that it must be of blood descent."

You hadn't considered that, but it made sense once you heard it out loud. Your grandmother had many skills to make her a sharp manipulator, but her inattention to detail was always her downfall.

“Forty-five million extra dollars in the bank would be nice.” You said. You were humoring him at first, but when you said it out loud, it rang true. 

“Forty-five is drops in the bucket compared to what we can get from her property.” He added. “The house and the golf course.” 

You put your hand on your chin, actually, seriously considering it. You were on the precipice of inheriting more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime. Money that could make so many problems go away overnight. Money you could hand out to anyone you wanted to, just to make their lives a little easier. You pictured yourself giving waitstaff six-figure tips, or handing a hundred dollar bill to someone asking for change on the street. You could erase your best friend's college debt as a birthday present. Get Hannibal a proper gift. All with money you bled out of your abusers.

It was divine justice. All at the price of nine months of your life.

"So..." Your voice trailed off. "We just need to keep this thing alive for the next nine months..."

"We can find an adoptive family in that time." Hannibal nodded along. "And we can set up a college fund for the child to be given to them on their 18th birthday."

"And we could make the adoption open, in case the child ever wants to meet us." You said.

"Right." He agreed. "Allowing the option for an adoptee to meet their biological parents is much better for their mental health and adjustment."

You covered your mouth with your hand, only to hide your excitement. "I take it back, I'm starting to see a positive outcome."