#pictures titled ���kitten

[forgottenflickr]

“Patches” 1997-1999

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[mead-iocre]

Pay Attention To Me | Leah Williamson x Reader 

synopsis: do you know what's worse than dating a football player? dating a football fan.

warnings: brief mention of sex

wc: 2.5k words

Sometimes you wonder to yourself what possessed you to date a footballer. You weren’t athletic or sporty, and unlike your athlete brothers, you didn’t enjoy any sport enough to stick to it. Your only means of exercise was pilates and the occasional trip to the beach in your cute bikini. 

So how did you end up dating a professional footballer? 

You found yourself thinking about that question as you sit curled up on one end of the leather sofa browsing the Chanel website on your laptop. On the other end of the sofa, with her legs sprawled out and a beer bottle in one hand, sat your girlfriend. Leah was dressed in a grey hoodie and matching grey joggers; her hair was down, which was a rarity these days due to the heat, streaks of light blonde strands framing her pretty face. From your place on the sofa, you are granted the most breathtaking view of the ocean thanks to the expansive glass walls. The horizon stretches as far as the eye can see; the sky painted in hues of orange, pink, and purple. As the sun begins to set, it casts a golden glow over the water, making the waves glimmer and sparkle.

The villa was gorgeous, and exactly like how the pictures showed it to be. You had chosen the place yourself, tempted by the promises of walking out onto the deck and being able to jump into crystal clear waters. The spacious overwater bungalow features polished wooden floors, high vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, and furnishings in soft, neutral tones complemented by cool-tone vibrant accents. When you showed pictures of the villa to your girlfriend, she took once glance at it and handed you her gold amex card. She didn’t even ask you for the price. 

Back to your own question earlier, the short answer was that Leah was attractive as hell. She was also everything you could ask for in a partner. She's got a cracking sense of humour, she's passionate about her job, family-orientated, and it didn’t hurt that she was the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid eyes on. She made sure to spend as much time with you around her busy schedule. She accepted that you were high-matainance, and gladly indulged you. Leah was the whole package. Sometimes as you lay in bed, when the night is still and quiet, you would take a moment to thank your lucky stars that she walked into your life. 

However, no one in this world is perfect– even someone like Leah Williamson.

Your girlfriend’s biggest flaw was that she is a football player–and by extension– that meant she was a football fan.

And that was the problem. 

Today was the 2024 Euros final. England somehow managed to slither their way to the tournament final and will be facing Spain to compete for the title of Champions of Europe 2024. The original plan was to head over to the Williamson’s house so everyone could watch the game together. However, your birthday happened to fall in the week leading up to the final. As a birthday gift from your very generous girlfriend, Leah had surprised you with a week-long trip to the Maldives. Her only condition was that she gets to watch the Euros final at the villa 

Uninterrupted. 

And being the good girlfriend that you are, you were more than happy to compromise. That is until you realise that Leah has pretty much ignored you the entire day. 

Well– maybe ignore is the wrong term. She was acting the same this morning– ordering a breakfast spread fit for champions by the time you woke up, booking a luxury spa treatment for the both of you at the resort, and even letting you run wild with her card at the nearby mall where there’s a strip of high-end stores with names like Cartier, Vacheron Constantin, and Dior. You came strutting back to the villa in your new pair of Jimmy Choo kitten heels, while Leah trails behind you, her arms full of shopping bags– all of them belonging to you.

However, you were what other people would call clingy. You craved attention and affection more than the usual person. Physical touch was your love language, and most of the time, your girlfriend was more than happy to meet your needs. 

But not today it seems. 

She was far too busy watching a bunch of men on telly chase a ball around a field of freshly cut grass to pay enough attention to you.

Finally getting board of looking at bags and shoes on your laptop, you shut it down and put it aside. Stretching one leg over the length of the cream white sofa, you nudge Leah with your foot. “Lee…”

Without even moving her eyes away from the screen, your girlfriend just hums in reply. Rude.

Another nudge with your freshly manicured toes. “Leah”

Finally he blonde turns to you, grasping your foot with one hand effectively putting an end to your incessant poking. “What, baby?”

“I’m bored” You pout at her. 

“Then watch the game, darling” She tilts her head towards the 85” Samsung TV that is mounted on the wall. Her hand was now lightly massaging your foot and your calves, probably sensing how tense you are. 

You groan in reply, your head falling backwards dramatically. “That's exactly what’s boring me, Lee” 

Leah just smiles, but it’s a bit strained. She just wants to watch the game, and you’re making it hard for her to focus. She’s usually used to your indifference for the sport that she happens to make a career out of. You only "enjoyed" football when your girlfriend was playing. You attended all her matches and would cheer loudly for her when she's on the pitch. Whenever Leah would drag you along with to watch football matches as a spectator with her, you would reluctantly agree– after many kisses and promises of shopping afterwards– and armed with the latest copy of Vogue to pass the time. If she wasn’t on the pitch, you did not care.

You sneak a peek at her, wanting to see if she would indulge you further, but she was already turning her attention back to the TV. Stupid tv. 

You rattle your foot that is still under her hand. You didn’t know where this was coming from but you had enough of being pushed aside for a game of football. “Leah!” 

And that’s when she snaps. 

“Fucking hell– would it kill you to be quiet! Can’t you see I’m trying to watch the match, mate?” She gestures wildly at the tv. Her eye brows were drawn together, the skin between them wrinkled. When she looked at you again, her gaze was intense– piercing almost.

You glare back at her, hoping she can feel your wrath from her peripheral since she has once agin directed her eyes back to the tv. “m’not your mate” 

You huff audibly, snatching your foot back from her grasp. You could feel the annoyance bubbling up inside you. Sure, you had both compromised that Leah gets to spend one day to watch the game uninterrupted. And yes, you did get your girlfriend all to yourself during the last five days, but you couldn’t understand why she was pushing you away like this. You were being selfish, but who wouldn't be when their girlfriend is being uncharacteristically mean about it.

When you were in one of your moods, you had a habit of muttering under your breath when things don't go your way, making scathing, albeit humorous, remarks. It wasn’t long before the sounds of you grumbling under your breath could be heard by your now equally moody girlfriend. 

“bloody football…this was supposed to be a birthday trip yet my girlfriend is spending time watching ugly men kick a ball around…we could’ve been snorkelling and exploring the reefs or having sex on a yacht but nooooooo apparently football is more interesting”

Sometimes Leah found it cute but other times, like today, your grumbling was annoying and it was distracting her from the game. The blonde just wants an hour or two to watch football uninterrupted, yet you can't even give her that. She smacks her hand down hard on the sofa, startling you and putting an end to your angry muttering. Leah turns to you and glares. “If you want to keep grumbling like that go do it somewhere else. You’re actually fucking pissing me off. don't know why I even put up with you” She groans the last bit as she rubs her forehead like you were some sort of nuisance to her.  

That did it. 

You were annoyed at the lack of affection from your girlfriend, and the same person that you wanted attention from was now mad at you. You glare at her right back, but your eyes were starting to water and you were getting the sniffles.

Wrestling the blanket off your lap like you were fighting an alligator, you swing your legs off the sofa, ready to stomp to the room and slam the door like a mature lady when Leah grabs your arm before you can move. “Sorry. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, baby” 

You angrily wipe away a traitorous tear as it slides down your cheek, trying to shake off the blonde’s grip but she holds firm. She moves to stand on her own two feet until she’s standing in front of you. Leah crouches down slightly, forcing your eyes to meet her blue ones. She frowns when she notices your tear stained cheeks. “Darling…hey, look at me, please”

You meet her eyes, albeit reluctantly. She rewards your effort with a kiss on your wet cheek. “I didn’t mean it. Don’t cry, please. You’re breaking my heart, baby” 

“Oyarzabal…Cucurella! 2-1 SPAIN!! Time is running out and Spain are nearly there. Oyarzabal hooks the ball out left to Cucurella, who beats a flagging Walker with a lovely diagonal ball into the box.The substitute is stretching ahead of Stones, having timed his run to perfection in between England's two centre-backs, and slides to put Spain back in front. This might just be it for England…”

Shit.

You head snapped towards the tv in shock, your annoyance disappearing. While you weren't personally rooting for any of the two teams, your English girlfriend was rooting for England so you automatically were rooting for England too. Not that you would ever admit it out loud.

You were anticipating a slew of cursed words from the Milton Keynes native, but her eyes had not left your face once, far too concerned about making sure you were okay. You were her number one priority, always. 

Taking a step closer to her, you rub the sides of her waist lightly. It was your turn to comfort your girlfriend. You hug her, pressing your head against her chest to listen to the rhythmic beating of her heart. It’s soothing and familiar, and any lingering feelings of frustration have completely disappeared. 

“The lads can pull one back” You say to her, peeking at the time running at the left top corner of the screen. Your girlfriend still hasn't said anything and you assume it's because she's sad about the score. “They’ve still got 10 minutes to equalise– plus additional time to play.” Just because you weren’t the biggest football fan out there did not mean you didn’t understand how the sport works. 

“Quit thinking about the match for a minute, baby, I don’t care about them right now. Are you sure you’re okay?” Leah pulls back slightly, cupping your face gently, and you lean into the warmth of her palms. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, Lee. I was just been silly” You pucker your lips up at her, and she grants your request with a grin. She kisses you once, and then again, pecking your lips repeatedly like she can’t get enough of you. 

You give her one more kiss, giving her a sharp bite on her lower lip before you pull away completely. Leah frowns at that, her eyebrows furrowing in displeasure. 

“I’m going to grab my laptop and watch Desperate Housewives out on the hammock. I’ll leave you to your football–alone– so you can focus.”

“What no. Baby, you can’t leave me when we’re one nil down during a Euros final” Leah gestures animatedly at the TV, the scoreline still showing Spain in the lead. “Stay with me. Watch your show right here with me” 

It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

Without waiting for you to reply, Leah began pulling you by the hand back to the sofa. She sat down, tugging you onto her lap. You just laugh, not even bothering to reach for your abandoned laptop on the other side of the sofa. You snuggle into her, your chest pressed together, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. Just because you agreed to stay with her, doesn’t mean you were interested in watching the match. 

A buzzing from the inside of your short’s pocket startles you slightly. You glance at the screen, reading the text, and then gasp. 

“love, my Chanel sales associate is asking me if I’d like to book an appointment at their store to see their new collection! There’s actually a cute bag that I've been thinking about…"

Leah hums, distracted slightly, not even looking at the phone screen that you are practically shoving into her face. “Yeah, we can get your bag once we arrive back home” 

You squeal, already texting your sales associate to go ahead and book you in. 

“–only if England win it” The typing stops and your heart drops. Your celebration cut short. 

“w-what…b-but, love…” You look up at her to see if she was serious, and to your dismay there's not a hint of playfulness in her gaze. She's serious. Glancing back at the screen, you see England have only 5 minutes left to equalise if they want to play for additional time, but the seconds are ticking by quickly. 

Scrambling off your girlfriend’s lap, you take your place beside her on the sofa instead. You have never been more motivated to cheer for a team your girlfriend was not playing for. Mustering all the manifestation in the universe, and your desperate need for that Chanel medium 25cm double flap shoulder bag in pink quilted lambskin leather with silver metal trim, you shout from the top of your voice “C’mon, England!!”

Leah just laughs loudly beside you, yelling and whooping too. 

However, sports can be a cruel thing sometimes.

England did not end up winning the Euros, much to the dismay of your girlfriend— and probably an entire nation. However, you got your bag anyway. Leah could never say no to you. She would give you the entire world if you asked for it, but luckily all you wanted is a pink Chanel bag– for now. 

More spoilt!reader x Leah because you all seem to enjoy her.

I wrote this the day after the Euros and then abandoned it because I got stuck and experience a writer's block halfway lol. Hope it still delivered.

-- kisses, butter.

[littlest-w01f]

Naughty kitten

"Pet play" with:

Sylus x Reader

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Summary: Sending a pic of yourself laying in Sylus' bed half naked to him gets you in trouble when he gets home earlier than planned.

Cw: Pet play, kitten/master titles, fingering, sex toys, collars, anal play, d/s dynamics, subspace, Smut 18+ MDNI

You knew you were playing with fire when Sylus had texted that he would be busy in a meeting and you had snuck into his home, already preparing for his return. But you couldn't help yourself, you did look cute, in your new white lace set, a headband of fluffy cat ears on your head, and a choker necklace.

With a swift movement, you pulled out your phone and snapped a picture of yourself lounging seductively on his bed. You giggled softly, your voice carrying an edge of excitement and desire. The bedroom was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls as you posed provocatively on the plush comforter. Your skimpy white lace lingerie left little to the imagination, the delicate fabric clinging to your curves. The fluffy cat ear headband added a playful touch, contrasting with the sultry choker.

As you snapped a photo, your full lips curled into a mischievous grin, revealing a hint of excitement beneath the surface, facing one of the many mirrors in his bedroom. The camera captured every detail, the way your breasts strained against the lace, the subtle dip of your waist to your hips that swayed enticingly in every pose. The soft muscles on you from training day and night.

You took plenty of photos, in different forms, showing each part of yourself, pulling the laces to the side to get a few bare despite the lingerie you wore, a few pulling on the choker you wore, it was too cat-like, something you had jokingly send Sylus a link of and he had brought for you. It was pink and white, fluffy, holding a round bell where it sat over your throat, making a jingling noise whenever you moved your head.

As you continued snapping photos, the bell on your choker jingled softly with each subtle movement, drawing attention to the provocative piece of jewellery adorning your slender neck. The fluffy material felt luxurious against your skin, adding a sensual texture to the overall visual feast you were presenting.

Your hands roamed over your body, adjusting to expose more cleavage, tugging at the hemline to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of smooth thighs. Each pose was more alluring than the last, your expressions ranging from coy and innocent to bold and seductive.

Sitting in his bed, you looked through the best, choosing one where your breasts were fully exposed to the mirror, the lace barely hanging on, your face like you didn't know what you were doing. And another an up-close pic of the choker. You smirked as you sent both of those to Sylus, a cheeky, "What do you think about these, master?" with a wink.

The moment you hit 'send', a rush of anticipation coursed through your veins, leaving your breath hitched and your heart pounding. The thrill of teasing Sylus this way, knowing how much he craved you, filled you with an intoxicating mix of fear and exhilaration.

In the quiet solitude of the room, you allowed yourself to indulge in the fantasy, your fingers tracing along the curves of your breasts, imagining his hands on them instead. The sensation was so intense, that you could almost swear you felt his touch, his gaze burning into your skin as he admired your chosen pictures.

Your phone vibrated with a notification, and you hurried to pick it up, it was a simple text, "Oh my wau!" You giggled slightly, at his misspelt words, and feeling triumphant you made him fumble, he then sent another, this time, correct spelling, "Stay like that."

It didn't take minutes, before there were red and black tendrils of energy in the room, Sylus' Evol, and you knew he was close. You reached for the tendrils and they grabbed you, flipping you on your hands and knees.

The room grew charged with the presence of Sylus's Evol, its ethereal tendrils wrapping around you like silken bands, lifting you effortlessly onto all fours. The position left you vulnerable, your ass elevated high, the thin lace of your panties no match for the predatory hunger in the air.

Sensing his approach, your heart pounded wildly in your chest, sending thrills straight to your core. Every nerve ending tingled with raw excitement, your entire being aching for the sight of him, craving his touch, his claim.

The sound of his footsteps echoed through the house, growing louder with each passing second until finally, he stood in the doorway. His gaze locked onto your body, fiery and possessive, his aura pulsating with lustful intent.

"Kitten couldn't keep to herself, could she?" He taunted, his energy holding your head down, ass up. With a swift move, his large hand connected to your exposed skin, "Hmm? Disturbing me while I'm working? Not smart, sweetie."

A sharp smack resounded through the room as his hand came crashing down on your ass, a perfect combination of sting and warmth seeping into your flesh. Your yelp was muffled by the firm hold on your head, pressing you against the pillow, leaving you utterly helpless under his control.

"You're such a bad girl," He murmured, leaning over your back to deliver another stinging blow, this time right above the curve of your ass. His laughter echoed around you, rough and amused, fueling the heat coiling within you. "But you look so adorable like this." He pulled playfully at your cat ears, pulling your head back, making the collar ring.

His hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of your exposed skin, gripping, pinching, squeezing until you writhed beneath him, desperate for more. His fingers dipped beneath the elastic to tease your slick folds. "Let's see if you can handle the consequences of tempting me away from work."

"Mmmm, Master..." You moaned, pushing back into his hand, the movement making the bell on your neck ring louder, the sound almost hypnotic. "Please-"

"Aww, look at you, thinking you can get what you want, kitten," Sylus taunted, pulling his fingers away from your fluttering cunt.

His teasing fingers slipped away, leaving you panting and aching for more. The absence of his touch only served to heighten your need, your clit throbbing with unmet desire.

"You'll have to earn it," He whispered, his voice low and husky, a promise drenched in carnal intent. His hand returned to its previous spot, delivering a series of swift slaps that resonated through your whole body.

Each strike sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain coursing through your nerves, driving you closer to the brink. But still, he denied you, withholding the satisfaction you so desperately craved.

You moaned loudly, tears lining your eyes. Sylus caught your reflection in a mirror, a fake pout on his lips, "Oh, is this not what you planned, sweetie?"

Watching himself in the mirror, Sylus's expression softened, a rare glimpse of tenderness flickering across his features. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the small of your back, whispering words of encouragement meant to soothe the ache in your body.

"But don't worry, kitten," He assured, his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin. "I'll make sure you enjoy every consequence." His hands resumed their exploration, fingers sliding between your slick folds once again, teasing the entrance of your dripping cunt. He circled your swollen clit with expert precision, coaxing moans and whimpers from your parted lips.

"I want-" You rasped out, buckling your hips against his hand, lost in the pleasure of his hand. Head spinning.

"Want who, kitten?" Sylus taunted.

"You, Master." You whined.

Sylus's chuckle rumbled against your back as he increased the pace of his ministrations, fingers delving deeper into your clenching heat. Each thrust sent sparks of ecstasy racing up your spine, your inner walls quivering around his fingers.

"Yes, you do," He purred, nipping at the tender flesh of your shoulder blade. "And I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

With a deft twist of his wrist, he curled his fingers inside you, stroking that secret spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Your climax built rapidly, coiled tight and ready to unleash, until suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you empty and gasping.

"No coming yet, kitten," Sylus commanded, his voice a low growl. "We're just getting started."

You nodded, staying still, you turned your head to see him rummaging through a chest, "What are you looking for, Master?"

"Nothing you need to worry your fluffy head about, kitten," He simply said, his back facing you. While he was turned away from you, you used that time to salivate over his body, eyes going over his silver hair, broad shoulders, his back flexing and relaxing, the curve of his ass, his thick thighs, you swallowed hard.

Feeling your gaze upon him, Sylus paused in his search, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He glanced back at you over his shoulder, catching your lust-filled stare, his crimson eyes filled with the same desire. The intensity in your eyes sent a surge of pride through his veins, bolstering his already rampant desire.

"Just enjoying the view, kitten?" He teased, turning back to his task, his movements deliberate and purposeful. He withdrew something long and glistening from the depths of the chest, a dildo, crafted to mimic his own sizeable cock. It was clear from his smirk that he intended to fill you up with it, just as he did with his real one. Returning to you, he approached slowly, the dildo dangling between his fingers. "Ready for your punishment, kitten?"

Your throat was suddenly dry at the sight, you nodded, knowing this was going to hurt. Sylus approached you, not bothering to remove your lingerie, he just pushed it to the side, smiling gleefully at the sight of your dripping cunt.

With a wicked glint in his eye, Sylus pressed closer, the cold touch of the dildo brushing against your heated skin. He traced the tip along your slit, teasing the entrance of your cunt without entering, relishing the way your body arched into the touch.

"Good, kitten." He breathed out, aligning the toy with your eager cunt. With a single, fluid motion, he thrust the dildo into you, filling you to the brim. A strangled cry escaped your lips as the stretch enveloped you, the sensation overwhelming.

You tried to struggle away but Sylus's hands gripped your hips firmly, anchoring you in place as he began to set a punishing rhythm, each thrust meeting your resistance with a grunt of exertion.

Your screams echoed off the walls as Sylus drove the dildo deep, the rigid toy stretching your insides to their limits. Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat beading on your brow, but despite the pain, a twisted sense of pleasure pulsed through your body as you ground back.

Each brutal thrust rubbed against that sensitive spot within, the pressure building with every stroke. Your nails dug into the bed, trying to find purchase as he fucked you mercilessly, the dildo scraping against your cervix with each harsh pump.

"Take it, kitten," Sylus growled, his voice raw with lust. "This is what happens when you disturb my work. You wanted attention, now you've got it." He leaned over your back, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered.

All sense had left you, an ach in your stomach as your cunt tried its best to stretch to the size of the dildo, the jingle of the bell was a sharp sound that kept ringing in the room, moans and groans leaving your lips.

Sylus slammed the toy inside you as deep as it could go, fumbling with the base of it for a moment, it started to vibrate, making you fall flat on the bed, "Now purr for me, kitten."

The vibrations coursing through the dildo intensified, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your core. Your toes curled, your legs trembling as the sensations threatened to overwhelm you entirely. Yet even as your body shook, Sylus continued his relentless assault, the toy plunging into your depths with ruthless efficiency.

"I said purr for me," he demanded once more, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust. The command hung heavy in the air, a challenge thrown down before you. And despite the haze of pain and pleasure clouding your mind, you knew you had no choice but to obey.

"M-Master-" A broken mewl escaped your lips, morphing into a desperate, keening wail as the vibrations pushed you closer to the edge. Your inner muscles clenched around the invading toy, drawing it deeper, seeking more of that delicious friction.

He left the dildo buried inside you, vibrating on the torturous setting that had you seeing stars, "See, that was easy," He taunted.

You felt his hands grip at your lace, ripping it off your body, you weren't in the right mind to care how much you loved the pair. His hands explored your body.

Sylus's hands roamed your curves possessively, pinching and kneading your breasts as if they were his personal playthings. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, twisting them just shy of pain, drawing a ragged gasp from your lips.

His other hand slid down to cup your ass, squeezing the supple flesh roughly. Leaning in close, he nipped at your earlobe, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "You look so pretty like this, all spread out and helpless," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Just waiting for me to use you however I please." As if to illustrate his point, he reached down and adjusted the vibrator's speed, increasing the intensity to a maddening buzz.

You cry loudly, thrusting your hips in the air, as if trying to push the dildo out, but every time it got even a little out of your drooling cunt, Sylus pushed it back in.

"Cum for me, kitten," He commanded, The words were barely out of Sylus's mouth before your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your cunt spasming around the dildo as waves of intense pleasure ripped through your body, drenching the sheets in your release. Your cries filled the room, echoing off the walls, a symphony of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Your entire being focused on the sensation, on the throbbing pulse of the dildo as it drove you further toward obliviation. But Sylus wasn't done with you yet. As your climax subsided, he slowed the thrusts, giving you just enough reprieve to catch your breath before starting the cycle again. Making sure you cum over and over again on the toy, drenching the sheets.

Your thighs trembled as you barely felt a cool gel spread over your ass, his finger pushing in through the tight rings of muscles. Sylus's fingers probed at your tight rear entrance, slick with lube, coaxing the resistant ring of muscle to relax and accept his intrusion. Slowly, inch by inch, he worked a digit past the initial barrier, sinking knuckle-deep into your ass.

"Shh, just breathe," He crooned, his free hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back, he knew your body better than you did, knew the way you curved when you needed comfort. "You're doing so well, taking me so nicely. Such a good kitten."

He scissored his fingers, stretching you gently, preparing you for what was to come. Once he deemed you ready, he added a third finger, pumping them in tandem with the dildo still lodged in your dripping cunt, a faint stretch of muscle separating the two.

The dual stimulation of the dildo and his fingers sent another ripple of pleasure through your already sensitized nerves. Your body twitched under his ministrations, your body writhing against the bed as he stretched and teased your most forbidden entrance.

Despite the discomfort, there was something undeniably erotic about the feeling of him exploring both your holes. And here you were, spread wide open for Sylus, willingly submitting to his every whim.

"Fuck…yes…" you moaned, trying to find your voice, unable to contain yourself anymore. The combination of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, driving you closer to the brink once more. "Master please-"

You tensed up instinctively as you felt the blunt head of Sylus's cock pressing insistently against your ass. The knowledge of what was to come sent a shiver of trepidation down your spine, even as your body thrummed with anticipation.

"Relax, kitten," Sylus murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "Breathe through it. Let me in."

With a slow, steady pressure, he began to ease himself into you, the thick girth of his shaft parting you with a burning stretch. Your hands fisted in the sheets, your teeth gritted against the overwhelming sensation of fullness as he sank deeper and deeper into your willing body.

By the time he was fully sheathed, you were panting, your skin slick with sweat. He stayed still, letting you get used to both the stretches in your cunt and ass, hands curling around the back of yours to pin you down, kissing your shoulders to soothe you.

His hands caressed yours, trailing up your arm as he playfully but your fluffy ears while looking into your eyes in the mirror, guiding you back onto him. With a firm grip, he began to move, pulling you back onto his cock with each deliberate thrust, each one sharper as if trying to get the choker ringing louder.

The sound of the choker's bell rang out in time with his pace, a lewd melody that only served to heighten your arousal. The dual penetration was exquisite torture, your stretched cunt and ass clenching rhythmically around their respective invaders. Each movement made the dildo hit your cervix while it continued to vibrate within you, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward.

Your drool dripped freely from your slackened jaw, pooling on the pillow beneath your head. You were utterly lost to the sensations, your mind foggy with lust as you surrendered completely to Sylus's dominance, you let go of any control of yourself, floating in a limbo-like state, brain mushy.

Sylus kept up his punishing pace, hands wrapping around your waist in comfort as he noticed you falling into subspace, trusting him so pully, his hands tightening in yours as he drove deeper but softer into your willing body. The sounds of wet slapping echoed through the room, along with your choked whimpers and mewls. Every thrust seemed to strike a new chord of pleasure within you, building an inferno of desire that threatened to consume you whole.

Your cunt and ass clenched rhythmically around his cock and the dildo, squeezing them both for all they were worth. The vibration of the toy combined with the harsh friction of his cock in your ass sent sparks flying behind your eyelids. You could feel your climax approaching like a freight train, you knew you had already cum plenty of time in your haze, from the vibrations, you couldn't remember when, but you wanted more, and craved it desperately.

Sylus could sense your impending orgasm, the way your body tightened and quivered beneath him. He leaned down, his chest pressed flush against your back, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm.

"That's it, my little kitten," He growled in your ear, his voice rough with exertion and lust. "Cum for me again."

With those words, he reached around and pressed his thumb firmly against your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight, fast circles. The added stimulation was all it took to send you hurtling over the edge, your vision whiting out as ecstasy consumed you.

As your screams crescendoed, pushing the dildo out of your cunt from the force of your release, Sylus finally succumbed to his own desires, his climax hitting him like a sledgehammer. His cock jutted inside you, pulsing hot jets of cum deep into your abused hole. He grunted, his body tensing as he emptied himself into you, marking you internally as his own.

The feeling of being filled so thoroughly, of having his seed flooding your insides, brought you back to reality slowly. The afterglow of the orgasm washed over you, making your limbs heavy and your mind blissfully empty. You panted softly, your body limp beneath him, a satisfied smile curling your lips despite the exhaustion that threatened to claim you.

Sylus smiled down at you, his breathing heavy, "Is this what you wanted?" Sylus grinned, leaning down to kiss your neck softly, his movements now tender rather than demanding.

All you could do was give a little nod. He gathered you close, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. The warmth of his body enveloped you, providing a comforting contrast to the lingering chill of post-orgasmic bliss.

{LaDs Kinktober Taglist: @m00nchildwrites}

[sluttycelestialgoddess]

If you give Sylus a Hunter...

Synopsis. Sylus has a lot of fun making you beg.

Pairings. Sylus x reader(MC)

Content. MDNI. edging, fem reader, praise, crying, mentions use of evol, pet names (kitten, sweetie, good girl, etc), AFTERCARE.

Word Count. 2.2k (damn... pretty good for my first story)

Author's Note. Thanks for reading my first story! Let me know what you think, and feel free to leave me requests! I wrote this while listening to 'Be Quiet and Drive' by Deftones. (also, did you like the title... I thought of 'when you give a mouse a cookie' and giggled to myself) xo, Z/Chaos

MDNI BEYOND THIS POINT.

Sylus had you right where he wanted you. His bed. Again. He looked down at you with his usual arrogant smirk as you whimpered and squirmed. His crimson eyes seemed to be lit with that internal glow they had sometimes when he was excited or wanted something. “Now, now, kitten. Spread those pretty thighs for me. You don’t want me to use my evol again, do you?” he purred sardonically, his left eye beginning to actually glow.

You were almost at your wits end. It had been an hour since he grabbed you out of the hallway of his hilariously (or should you say outrageously?) huge home you were attempting to get to know your way around and all but threw you onto his bed, using his evol to hold your hands above your head as he stripped you bare. He was insatiable. You’d been staying with him for four days at this point and already you’ve had more sex than you had in the last 2 years combined. Which, in the grand scheme of things, you guessed wasn’t much considering you dedicated all your time to becoming a Hunter for Linkon City after the rise of wanderer attacks, resulting in a gnarly dry spell… but his hunger for you was bordering on absurd. Even so, you had to ask yourself… Does he ever get tired?

In this hour that he’d had you at his mercy, he’d managed to edge you to the pinnacle of ecstasy no less than five times, never letting you reach that sweet release. You were a shaking, sobbing, whimpering mess, and he loved it. You were half in the mind to use one of the safe words he declared you use on the first night if you ever found yourself not being able to handle something. But your pride was like a gag, not letting your tongue form the word. “Feather”. How fitting, the smug bastard. 

“‘Feather’ will be to stop. You say that and everything stops. We do not continue. There will be no “break and then get back to it”. Saying that means you’re done for the night. So just be sure that’s the one you want to use,” he had told you. At the time you had giggled, thinking it was endearing, thinking back on it now, you wanted to kick him in the face. No way in hell were you uttering the word “feather” while a trembling, whimpering mess. If only you could actually move your legs to kick him, but nope. Useless appendages. 

You realized Sylus was still waiting for you to comply with his request. Finally having an ounce of control over your legs after they had become jelly sometime in the last 20 minutes, you shakily opened your legs to him, a whimper leaving your lips as the cool air in the room met your soaked lips. I could kick him now… but then he’d keep me like this all night. Fucker.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised, not seeing your thoughts, steadily growing fond of the idea of smashing your foot to his face. You internally smiled at your mental picture, but really you were enjoying yourself all things considered. He leaned over to rub soothing circles over your thigh before running a long finger through your sensitive folds. “You remember your safe words, correct?” he asked with a grin and you nodded, glaring daggers. He chuckled and hummed at how wet you’d gotten, and he hadn’t even put his mouth on you. Looking up to watch your reaction, he slipped his finger in, curling slightly to caress over the spot that always made you gasp. You did, and he smiled at the pretty sound, feeling pride at how well he knew your body. However, he was beginning to think he was being just a tad cruel as he watched your eyebrows knit together and the pitiful whimpers run into each other as they exited your lush lips. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know… I’ll let you come soon. Such a good girl… you look fucking delicious right now,” he cooed as he eased a second finger inside you and coated his thumb in your wetness before rubbing circles over your throbbing clit. Goosebumps covered your skin and you whined, your hips bucking up of their own accord. “Mmm, such a needy kitten. Sweetie, I think you could take a couple more, hm?”

You whimpered out unintelligible curses at the remark and he chuckled. “Sylus… I really don’t know if I can,” you say, finally having found your voice in the string of muttered curses and whines. You clenched your eyes closed as he pressed harder on your clit and curled his fingers deeper. That blossoming warmth entered your tummy again. You fluttered around him and he groaned, wanting so badly to see you come apart, but needing it to be while he was inside you so you could milk him for everything he had. 

“Relax, you can handle it,” he chided with a tsk. “I’ve seen you take more than this, sweet girl. You’re stronger than you think. Tell me how badly you want to cum,” he groaned as you clenched harder around him. You were half scared he would pull back and deny you once again, but also half scared he wouldn’t and it would be over. He rubbed at your thighs, admiring how mouthwatering they were coated in your arousal. “Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You felt the tears begin to sting the back of your eyes and you steeled yourself long enough to whisper through your moans, “Please, Sylus. Please let me cum, baby. I’ll do anything, just please…”

“Anything, hm?” he questioned, obvious interest in his tone as he leaned down and sucked lightly on your clit, replacing his thumb. You gasped as he rolled his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your legs shook fiercely and you cried out. Pulling back, fingers and all, he stood over you. The damn tease… His eyes never left yours as he deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, then his pants, rolling them both off and letting them pile on the floor. He leaned down and extended himself over you until your lips met in a passionate kiss. “If you’ll do anything, how about you stay true to your word by cumming around my cock?” he teased as he grabbed it and rubbed it through your slickness. 

“Yes, please,” you sighed against his lips, seeing this as him conceding as long as you came wrapped around him. His lips curved into a dangerous grin at your response, pushing inside with agonizing slowness. He groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, I don’t even need to work it in,” he moaned appreciatively as he drove into you with one powerful thrust, no longer able to torture you with slow pumps. Once he was fully seated, he kissed you tenderly as began to move, rubbing his pelvic bone over your clit with every thrust. You whimpered, feeling the tears fall from your clenched eyes as the warmth began to spread again.

Sylus smiled down at your beautiful face, eyes clenched tight with tears trailing down your cheeks. Perfect… She is so perfect. “So beautiful, baby. You’re trembling. You’re so close, aren’t you, pretty girl?” he rubbed your hair with one hand to soothe you and wiped at your tears with the other. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, so you only answered him through an eager nod and whimpers. “Hm, I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Sylus sped up, needing to see you lose yourself in pleasure. Lose yourself while clenched so tightly around him.

This was his favorite part, of course. After repeatedly bringing you to that edge, but pulling back before you could fall, you would always be so wound up that when the orgasm finally came, it would make you delirious with pleasure. He loved watching you as you finally crashed over the edge he kept you from and your face would contort in utter rapture, crying out his name and clenching so tight around him he’d have no choice but to follow you. He shook his head to focus on the present and ground against you to help you to reach what you’ve been begging him for. 

You whimpered as he gave his permission. You let go, no longer holding yourself back. The warmth in your tummy became an inferno as his thrusts became harder, rubbing your clit with his pelvis and the head of his cock jutting against that sweet spot inside you. You were so close. Just a little more pressure… “Please…” you begged on a needy sob. Sylus kissed you harder as he felt his own release building. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up slightly in his arms, holding you so that you hovered over the bed as he pounded into you, holding you both up with his free hand on the mattress. The new angle had him going impossibly deeper, rubbing your clit against him with an intensity that finally pushed you over the boundary he had carefully pulled you from so many times. Your nails raked over his shoulders as you cried out. “Sylus! Yes!”

“That’s my good girl. Cum all over my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby… so tight,” he praised with a loud groan, rutting up into you as his own orgasm crashed over him. His grunts filled your ears, and it was his previous words coupled with them and his unrelenting ministrations that made your toes curl. Your body convulsed as wave after wave of pure bliss spiraled over your entire body. Your back arched into Sylus as his cum filled you, his thrusts not wavering as his body shook, ensuring he extended your pleasure as long as possible. 

Eventually, your cries subsided into soft, shuddering breaths as the tremors in your body slowly dissipated. Sylus sat back on his heels, holding you tightly the entire time you came down from your high, rubbing his hands down your back as you stayed wrapped around him. When your shaking stopped, he stood up from the bed. You stayed clutched to him as he walked to the washroom and started a bath. Sylus being Sylus, he added in his favorite epsom salts and relaxing bubble bath as the water filled up steadily. 

“My love, are you okay? I’ll hold you all night if you need, but I want to clean you up and take care of you. You did so well, but I know that had to be draining. Let me wash you then I’ll hold you so you can rest,” he whispered, rubbing his hands down your exposed ribs from where your arms were clasped like a restraint around his neck. He could feel your grip wavering and knew you were going to be out like a light as soon as your head laid down on his chest. You relented, loosening your grip in your legs around his waist as he wrapped his arm around your back and the other under your knees to lower you into the water. You sighed as you relaxed into it. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything,” he said and kissed the top of your head. Methodically, he washed your body, almost like he was worshiping. He took care to be gentle around the sensitive junction of your thighs, kissing your shoulder when he lightly passed over it. He took a cup and filled it with water to run over your hair and began to wash it with his shampoo. She’s going to smell like me… he smiled to himself as he massaged your scalp. After washing it out, he combed through your hair with his fingers coated in conditioner. 

Sylus made sure to take extra good care of you after long sessions like the one today, diligently washing you, feeding you, massaging sore areas, or simply holding you so you know how much he loves you. After fully washing you and drying you off, he carried you back to the bed and laid you down among the mass of pillows and plushies you had “adopted” (as you put it). So beautiful... He smiled down at you, showing you all the love and tenderness he held in his heart for you. You smiled back sleepily and reached out for him to join you. He climbed in and gently pulled your head to his chest, rubbing his hand over your thigh in invitation for you to put it over his to rest. 

You snuggled into him as he kissed your head. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered as you felt yourself beginning to drift off. Your speech slurred as sleep dragged you under. Sylus tightened his arms around you, his muscled chest hugging your cheek. 

“I will always take care of you, my love. You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine. I love you, sweetie. Rest.”

[mysicklove]

"Well look at you! Say, "meow", Lord Sukuna!"

Said curse blinks at you a couple of times, before using his hands to touch the white, fluffy cat ears placed on his head. "Is...this what humans do for entertainment? Pretend to be animals? I think it would be more appropriate for you to dress up as cattle, considering-"

"Yes, yes I know, you hate humans, i've heard thousands of times," You cut off, quickly smacking his hand away and fixing the ears. "Now look cute — I am going to take a picture!"

Sukuna doesnt move from his position on the bed, just staring at you with a blank face. He crosses his upper sets of his arms and waits for you to be done, slightly amused by your actions, but not enough to give you the satisfaction of his change in facial expressions. Still, you coo at him and tell him to get in different poses for you, but he just continues to stay in place and stare. You arent very suprised, considering it was rare for him to actually listen to your demands, the stubborn thing.

"You arent acting cute at all," you pout, and Sukuna just shrugs, raising his eyebrows. His lower hands trace the skin on your upper leg, and he continues to watch your antics.

"Have I not been taking care of you appropriately?" He asks, slightly narrowing his eyes. "I give you food, water, and even sex. I thought that is all your species needs to live happily?"

You cock your head to the side, blinking at the way he seemed to be in deep thought. "What are you talking about?"

"Uraume!" Sukuna interupts, pulling you closer until the white ears nearly graze your skin. His servant appears less than five seconds later, walking into the room. "My Lord," they bow, before waiting for a command.

You can see the way they look appalled at the cat ears, and are burning daggers into your skin for daring to put him in something so degrading — your class as a human meant that you were the lowest on the totem poll in Sukuna's domain, but still you managed to have the master of it wrapped around your finger.

"Bring me something from a feline descent."

"Of course, My Lord."

"What? No!" you pipe up, but Uraume is already gone. You turn back to Sukuna who was taking the cat ears off, discarding them at his side. Then he pulls you into your lap, ignoring your struggles.

A large hand pets at your hair and Sukuna says, "You should have asked if you wished for a companion."

You cover your eyes with a groan, pulling gently at the skin on your face. "I dont want a companion, Sukuna," you complain, accidentally dropping his title. But, he doesnt seem to mind, continuing to trace your skin with his palms. "I just thought it would be funny to see you in something cute considering who you are."

He blinks at you for a second, before frowning. "I didnt find it funny."

"Yeah, obviously. The only jokes you find funny are about murdering people. Now look, Uraume is out searching for a kitten."

Sukuna doesnt seem to care, instead picking up the cat ears and asessing them. Then he places it on your head, while you narrow your eyes at him. But, the curse cracks a grin, scanning your face. "You are right, this is entertaining."

A breathless laugh escapes you and you shake your head with a whine of complaint. "This doesnt help the "Sukuna's pet" rumors."

"You are my pet human."

"We are dating."

"You can be my lover and my pet."

You push at his chest in complaint, and he rumbles out a laugh. Then you take off the ears, and put it back onto his head. Suprisingly, he lets them remain there, only looking at you with amusement.

A minute goes by, and you hear a familar voice. "My Lord, the cat as you requested."

You immediately twist your body to look for the kitten, excitement getting the better of you. But, much to your suprise, a full grown tiger stands in the middle of Sukuna's chambers, unusually tame.

Your eyes widen in shock, but Sukuna meerly chuckles, before leaning down to your ear and saying, "Is it cute enough for you? A pet for my pet, how humerous."

And after that, you decide to never bring out the cat ears again. Nor mention anything relating to pets — your pride couldnt take the wicked teasing from your lord.

[starzshopoflove]

Worlds biggest snoop

Soap is nosy as fuck and drags poor Gaz into his nonsense, Ghost just misses you.

Notes: fem reader! sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader, Soap is nosy, drabble! (WC:936)

Okay, it was bound to happen eventually. Simons on deployment and his poor little civilian girlfriend is left all alone in her little bookshop while he's away on base. Of course he told you before he left and, you both made sure to spend plenty of time together on dates (and in bed)

You send him off with plenty of hugs and kisses reminding him to call whenever he has time and not to forget to take care of himself. Simon would probably keep a few photos of you in his gallery in a locked album that he looks at every night before sleeping once he’s called you.

This man is so paranoid, he even changes his wallpaper. It was a photo of you holding a pie you both made together ( he stood on the side reading the instructions while you did all the work bc you were to scared he would mess with the dough, this man has lived off of mre’s and meat his ass can NOT bake) with a little ghost dough shape baked on the top. Now its just a picture of a pile of books with your glasses on the top of the stack. Easy enough to pass off as a nice photo and still something to remind him of you.

He makes sure he has no trace of you on him once he's on base. Save for the one picture he has of you both holding a big bouquet of flowers side by side, he's staring at you stare at the camera like a love sick puppy, while you're smiling so wide your eyes are shut. That's the only thing he will keep on him, if he dies on the field he wants the last thing he sees to be you. Other than that he risks nothing.

Plain clothes that don't have your smell, none of the fancy lotions you’ve forced him to use, none of the little trinkets you slip in his pocket, none of the little letters you've slipped in his bag (He saved those to read when he came back).

Nothing.

But he was bound to fuck up eventually no?

Soap was the first to get nosy. His LT was never this calm or relaxed on deployment. He rushed a little more to get to his office each night. What was even weirder is he would lock the door this time, he never locked the door.

So of course he started taking matters into his own hands. Standing behind Ghost when he was sitting down on his phone, once he even saw him scroll past the locked album. He didn't open it of course. He never opened that unless he was alone, but he scrolled past it and Soap could see the album title.

Your Initial with a heart next to it.

This is when all the bells actually went off in his head. At first he thought Ghost finally went to therapy (LMAO NO) or maybe picked up a hobby (DOUBLE NO), but heart emojis? What on Gods green earth had moved thee Ghost to using a heart emoji

Soap was sticking like glue to Simon, reluctantly he tolerated this. Except of course when 9pm rolled around and he was kicking him out of the office. 

“Come on Lt, what you gettin 'rid ‘f me for? Not like yer gonna wank in the office yeah?” 

“Get out” 

“Aw come on can't spare ya favorite sargent a couple hours to entertain?”

Soap was whining at this point just being an annoying little shit to try and break him.

“Out”

Ghost just dragged him out by the collar like a misbehaved kitten.

Making a show of it Johnny walked down the halls wailing about how Ghost must hate him and that their friendship means nothing, while Simons just watched him tumble around dramatically wrapping his arms around Gaz. 

Once he hears the click of Ghost's office door locking he instantly straightens up, face locked on like he's on a mission and arm wrapped around Gaz like iron. 

Gaz the poor boy, is verily confused watching this interaction, more confused as to why Soap is dragging him to their Lt’s door.

"C’mon”

Soap hisses pressing his ear on the door motioning Kyle to do the same. 

“Fuck is you doing?”

Gaz is looking as Soap like a child who's about to get a shot, lips pursed tightly, eyes narrowed up. Course Johnny just pulls him to press up too.

Price probably just walks past them mumbling some nonsense about kids these days ignoring it, the less he knows the better

The 2 stand there in silence for a good moment until they hear the classic dialing of a number and the shifting of what sounds like Ghost taking off his mask. 

Then, the sound of a woman's voice?

“Well you look awfully tired”

Oh my god Lt’s calling a woman

Your voice is chirpy and bright probably since you’ve got the night shift and had enough sleep to run the shop for the night. You little chitters of how your day went and questions of concern filled the room soothing Simon's nerves of whatever he was worrying about that day. 

Soap and Gaz are jaw slacked behind the door staring at each other listening to this. Lt’s bird chirping through the little phone speaker and him actually replying in full sentences in a soft warm tone they didn't know existed 

The 2 scatter before the call ends giggling to each other, well Soap giggling Gaz trying to process how Lt got a girl before him

[writerastray]

Affection

General Masterlist - Read this before interacting

Disclaimer:

⚠︎ My works are all protected. I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share my work.

⚠︎ My work is only appropriate for adults over the age of 18. Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked.

-> Word count: 6k.

-> Relationships: Lee Minho/afab!Reader

-> Rating: 18+ → Mature/Explicit

->Genre/Tropes:   Sexual Tension, Smut. Other Additional Tags to Be Added. (Spoiler tags: Friends to Lovers At least for one night.)

-> Warning tags: Explicit Sexual Content. Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

-> Synopsis: After finding out that the guy you're in love with is dating someone else, your friend Minho decides to help with your heartbreak in more ways than you imagined.

The loud music made your head ache. You needed to get out of the party. Right now. 

You went downstairs, stumbling and bumping into a few people with your head lowered. Your heart was broken into pieces. Shattering as tears formed in your eyes.

The room below was more packed than the one upstairs, where your friends were. You dragged your body through a crowd, feeling it harder and harder to breathe. Your stomach churned.

You were sure you heard someone call your name, but you ignored them. Your goal was to get out of the building. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold back your tears. You sprint to the backdoor, close to the bar.

Finally, away from the chaos that broke your heart.

The air outside was sharply cold. Your chest was hurting, like you couldn’t breathe.

It was night, and there was snow falling, but your body was numb to the cold. The past few minutes flew through your mind over and over again. His words, his smile, and his eyes full of love. All that directed at a person who was not you.

The empty alley made you feel even more lonely. Your knees buckle, and you fall. Head between your legs. Tears falling, making your cheeks colder than before.

The night wasn’t supposed to go like that. You weren’t supposed to get heartbroken when your best friend announced he was dating. 

You weren’t ready to let your feelings for him go. You wanted him. You wanted to keep loving him, and you thought you could. You believed you could still be his friend and love him in secret.

But now he was dating, and you knew you’d have to move on. And you didn’t want to.

You heard yourself sob, and you bit your lips to contain it. Even if the loud music filled the night, someone might get out and hear you. No one can know Felix's best friend, his roommate, had feelings for him.

Of course, the universe didn’t hear your wishes.

"What do we have here?" A familiar voice made you hold your breath.

You didn’t look at Minho’s face. You refuse to, but you could picture his titled head and the smirk on his face even with your eyes closed.

"It seems a little kitten is hiding." He taunted you.

"Get out," you said, your voice dead and raw from holding your cries.

You feel him kneel in front of you. The heat of his body getting closer to your knees. It was good.

"Stay outside in this cold, and you won’t get only a broken heart but a flu too."

Your head slowly goes up. Minho’s hair was decorated with snowflakes, and his black eyes stared at yours with a glint of mischief. He had a smirk on his lips, and yet there was kindness hiding in the corners of his expression.

You have a tendency to always do what he says, even when Minho annoys the fuck out of you. Sometimes he reads you better than you can read yourself. The only time you didn't listen to him, well, that brought you into this mess.

You sniffed and nodded as you accepted his hands to pull you up.

"Yours or mine?" you said, hiccupping. He sighed.

"Mine is closer," he said, and not letting go of your hands, you both walked out of the alley.

The first time you met Minho was at a dinner with Felix and Seungmin. He was late due to the rain. You remember thinking he was one of the prettiest guys you'd ever seen. 

He walked like he owned the place. His dark and piercing eyes radiate confidence. He had an aura that captivated everyone. He sat as if the entire world was waiting for him and smiled at his friends like they were his own brothers. 

You initially thought he was one of those guys who thinks too much of themselves. Cocky and arrogant. You weren’t all wrong; he was cocky a lot of times, but with a few word exchanges, you saw kindness in him, the type that lurks and wraps your heart.

You two befriended easily. 

After a while, you joined Felix when he hung out at Minho’s house. You'd workout with Minho, even if he kept nagging about your poor push-ups. Often, you’d play with his cats, and more than once, you only came to see them instead of Minho. 

He didn’t mind it. 

Soon enough, his house was a safe place. 

It was only a matter of time until he realized your feelings for Felix.

You’ve been in love with your best friend since freshman year, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t put your perfect friendship at risk over your foolish heart.

Minho saw that, and it was the day you both first fought.

“You need to tell him,” he said. His lips were only slightly turned down. It was the only thing giving away he was upset at you. 

You look at your kitchen counter. You just finished baking cookies, and Felix went out to buy some beverages for the three. 

“I can’t tell him—”

“It’s not fair on him.” Minho walked up to you, but his approach was nothing but gentle, like he was dealing with a scared cat. Yet his voice was firm. "It will only get worse if you don’t confront your feelings.”

"He didn't notice before. He won't notice now." 

Your hand stings with your nails pressing and cutting your palm. He stared at you before his gaze was drawn to your hand. He took it carefully on his own, and his fingers drew circles around your palm, soothing the pain.  "And you’ll live your life humiliating yourself like that?”

This was the part where you always got mad at Minho. He didn’t scream at you, look mad, or make angry gestures. But his words were as deadly as the sharpest of knives. 

"What do you understand about it anyway?"

You didn’t even know why he cared so much. Your heart hammers in your chest, anger boiling your blood. You met his gaze, and what you saw made you breathless. 

There was hurt in his eyes, and they were getting red and teary. His jaw was set. This was the first time you'd seen him so vulnerable. 

"I have been in your place,” he said, letting go of your hand. “It does not end well, Y/n."

You shake your head, trying to pull those memories away. Minho walked beside you, his hands once again drawing circles on yours, trying to keep them warm in the cold weather.

Felix once told you that Minho got his heart broken badly by a childhood friend of his in the past. So now love is a delicate topic to talk about with him. 

After your fight, you’ve never had the courage to ask about his past lovers. You wonder how much pain you brought back on that day. Did the memories of his past still hurt him? 

Back then, you didn’t listen to his words. You kept your feelings hidden, and look what you got. A shattered heart, with no one to help you pick it up because the only person you counted on was the one who broke it. 

The streets were covered with snow. Minho was walking by your side, looking at the stores with Christmas decorations. It was time for them to close. There were few people outside. 

Minho didn’t say anything the whole way. He left you to your thoughts. 

He stopped in front of a coffee shop. It looked cozy inside, with green walls and golden phrases on them, and there was only one customer, beside you two.

You were still trying to calm yourself when both of you entered. He told you to sit somewhere as he ordered something for you to eat. Without the strength to argue about what you wanted to eat, you just obeyed him. His fingers were still interlaced with yours, and you couldn’t help but miss his warm hands once he let them go. 

You sat in a corner close to the window. A while later, Minho got back. You gaze at him, but his eyes are already on you. 

You could guess what he was thinking. "I warned you, Y/n. Many. Times." He would even put that little smirk on his face. Then his eyebrows would frown, and he’d think of a solution to make you feel better. 

Minho let his weight fall into the chair, sitting lazily. His lips turned, and you saw the smugness in his face mixed with frustration. I think I can read you too.

“I told you it wouldn’t end well.”

You lay your head on the table. “Satisfied you were right?” 

“Very much, but I’m not happy to see you sad. It ruins the fun.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Your eyes searched the coffee shop and focused on the waitress coming to your table. 

Minho got two hot chocolates and two blueberry lemon muffins. You've never had the lemon version before. A yellow cream icing decorated the top of the muffin. It looked too sweet and too happy. You wanted something bitter. 

“Don’t let your mood spoil the food. The muffin is good. Eat it.”

You gave in. The muffin was indeed really good, and the sourness of the lemon made everything right. You ate all of it. Too fast, even, and then you drank the hot chocolate, which was just as delicious. Minho let out a snort, still eating his muffin. 

“What?” You shrugged. “Sadness makes me hungry.”

His eyes softened for a second, and  his gaze darkened. "I’ll help you with your appetite."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your skin tingle, but you didn’t know why. 

You only knew you were craving salty food now. 

Minho’s apartment was small but cozy. The open kitchen on one side, and a big window occupying the whole wall on the other side. A corridor leading to his room. The living room was filled with things for his cat; a sofa and TV, some shelves with a few books, most of them yours. Your safeplace.

As soon as he entered, you heard him calling his cats with a sweet voice that made you smile a little. The first actual one that night.

You see him kneeling down as two cats approach. The third one, Dori, just looked at the scene by the corridor. Minho’s eyes softened, and his body relaxed as he caressed them. 

In the end, you asked for a pizza on the way to his house. You placed the bag of food on the counter of the open kitchen and sat in the chair when your phone buzzed. It was Felix calling. 

Fuck. 

Your stomach dropped. You need to answer the call, but what would you say? 

A lump formed in your throat. You kept looking at your phone, indecision creeping up on you, and when you were about to answer, Minho got your phone off your hands. 

“Hey!” You protest, trying to get your phone back.

“What?” he said, and scoffed. “Are you really going to answer his call?” Minho came closer and stopped between your thighs, his arms crossed, hiding your phone. His mouth twisted as he glared at you. "And what then? Or you think he won't recognize your crying voice?”

You stiffen and bite your lips. “He will be worried about me if I don't answer. I don’t want to ruin his night.”

Minho stared at you for a while and rolled his eyes, sighing. “Fine, call him. But say I had a headache, and you took me home.”

“You want me to lie to him?”

“Isn’t that what you've been doing to him this whole time? With your feelings?” He arched a brow at you. 

This time it was you who stared at him, and letting out a groan, you got the phone back from him. 

You tried not to pout as you called Felix back, annoyance taking over all your feelings for a second. You knew Minho was right, but he could hold his thoughts sometimes and let you be happy with your wrongness.

Felix answered on the first call. 

“Where are you? Are you ok?” He said. Just by hearing his worried voice, your heart squeezed. You could perfectly picture his frowning expression, biting his lips, and shoulders a little tense. You heard faint music too, and Hyunjin’s laugh. 

"I am. Minho had a headache, and I got him home," you said, watching Minho, with his satisfied smile, take the food from the bag and put it on plates.

“But is he okay? Do you need anything? I—”

“He will be fine. Don't worry. I’ll stay here for a while just in case.” Your leg started to bounce, and Minho placed one hand on it as he did the table. His hands were warm, and his eyes soft on yours. 

“Okay. If you need anything, call me, hm?”

"Yeah," you say, and for less than a second, it lingers there. You wanted to say more. You wanted to say everything. All your feelings that you kept inside your heart for years. But you didn’t have the courage. Not in the past, and certainly not now. So instead, you only replied, "Have a good night."

“Love you,” Felix said, and you closed your eyes with his words, your heart aching even more. You can’t answer him. You can't say, "I love you too," because the meaning of your "I love you" is different from his. So you just ended the call. 

You look at the floor, trying to empty your mind and ease the headache that has started to appear. One of Minho’s cats walked close to your legs.

“Let’s eat,” Minho said. He got a chair on the other side of the counter. 

The pizza tasted delicious, and focusing only on eating made the pain in your heart easier to bear.

Now, you rested on the sofa while Minho washed the dishes. 

You spread yourself out, looking at the ceiling. You close your eyes and focus only on what you can hear, trying not to think of the last couple hours. 

There were Minho’s dishes clashing slightly, his small humming, calm and secure. The cats' noises and purrs; the sound of the city; the laughter of pedestrians going back home; some horns loose in the wind; the engines of cars and buses.

When you opened your eyes, Minho was walking toward you. Your eyes met, and he arched a brow. 

“Too comfortable, aren’t you?” he said. The corners of his lips turned up. 

“Just doing what you said.”

He holds your feet up to make room for him to sit, then puts them back on his lap.

“What a good girl you are,” he said.

Something in his words caused a small twist in your stomach, and you chose to ignore it.

He turned the TV on and searched for a movie. He wanted to watch Doctor Stranger, but you whined about it being boring, and after a lot of back and forth, he opted for Guardians of the Galaxy. 

As the movie goes on, your body catches the fatigue of the day. You yawn, and your muscles start to relax once Minho begins to massage your foot and caress your legs. His touch was nice. Comforting. 

Your eyes felt heavy, so you closed them, letting them rest just for a little while.

When you wake up, the TV is on but with no sound, so you look up to see Minho on his phone.

"Next time you whine about a movie, I’ll ignore you."

You smile a little and spread yourself. You sit slowly, your shoulder brushing Minho’s. Dori, who was comfortable in his lap, slipped away to the corner of the window. Your eyes follow the cat until your gaze lands outside, noticing the city asleep, a few windows lit only for the nocturnals, and barely any sound of cars. What time is it?

"I should go. It's late."

"That’s why you should stay," Minho said, still not looking at you.

"I want to rest in my bed." 

"My bed is better."

"I don’t have my things here," you said, trying to find an excuse to go back home.

You see him rolling his eyes, and you can't hide your smile.

"Use my things. I have an extra toothbrush."

 "But I—"

"Y/n."

"Minho."

He sighed and put his phone down. Then he stares at you. Minho's face was so close to yours that you saw the details of his big and dark iris, his big eyelashes, and plump lips.

"Why do you want to go back?"

You open your mouth to answer, but then close it again. You wanted to see Felix. Why? Probably because you’re an idiot. 

Like he could read your thoughts, Minho said, "If you're lucky, you’ll be alone, but what if Hyunjin and Felix are still there?" Then he leaned toward you, his nose almost brushing yours, his eyes holding a storm inside them. "Are you sure you wanna hear them fucking?"

Your breath caught in your throat. It felt like he’d punched you. There he goes again, saying truths you don't want to hear.

Then the rage erupts out of you.

"Shut the fuck up, Minho!" You storm out of the sofa, away from him.

It was the frustration; the unfairness of you being the one who got your heart broken; the fact that you were not enough to be loved; your fear of losing Felix—that you’ll have to spend the rest of your life seeing him fall deeper and deeper in love with someone else who is not you—it was all of it that made your body tremble, made tears sting the back of your eyes, and a lump hurt your throat.

Regret crawls instantly into your body with your outburst.  You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to feel.

Minho was right. If you went back, you'd certainly see a scene that would break your heart even more. Just thinking about it made your heart twist inside, like a knife was stuck in there. But you couldn’t help how you feel. 

Like he was dealing with a scared cat, Minho silently walked towards you.

He didn't touch you, but he got so close that you felt the warmth of his body, and he stayed still until you calmed down.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that," he said, almost whispering at you.

You felt his fingertips brushing your cheek. The motion was so soft and heartwarming that you felt tears fall again. Why am I crying so much?

"I’m sorry too. For screaming."

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said, so caringly, with such kindness in his eyes.

Your body moved for you, and you let your head fall over his chest. It was warm, and you nuzzled in it, feeling his arms circling you and pulling you to him.

"What do I do, Minho? Help me, please."

You stayed there for a while. His heart was beating fast, and his hands caressed your back and your neck. You wanted to lose yourself in him. 

Just for this moment, you didn't want to think of anyone else.

You looked at him to see he was already staring. You knew Minho was attractive, but it never made your heart race. Until now, that is.

"You are so pretty," you said, not holding your words.

He arched his brow, a shy smile playing on his lips. "You are more."

Something fluttered from your chest to your stomach. His voice was so endearing; so soft. You smile and look at your feet, but his hand stops you and moves your head toward his. His warm fingers gently wiped your tears away.

"I can help make the pain go away. If you allow me..."

Your heart stopped. A part of your brain said no right away. It wouldn't be wise. After all, he’s your friend, and you shouldn't use him like that. But Minho wasn't the type to say  such a thing lightly; he knew what he was getting into. And your heart begged to be distracted just a little.

Minho stared at you with lust and something else in his eyes. The tension between you two made it harder for you to breathe. Your heart was racing with the images that formed in your mind. Of Minho and you. 

You wish you’d known what he was thinking. 

"Are you sure?" You said, ignoring your brain's screams of "bad idea, no, it’s not right," and trying to focus on your body and how Minho's lips might feel in yours, or how he would make you forget the thorns in your heart.

His hands were on your hips, and your chest collided with his. His face got even closer—his lips a breath away. "Let's forget them together, Y/n."

It was enough for you to kiss him.

Minho's lips were sweet. He kissed you slowly, asking with every sweep of his mouth across yours to be his tonight. And you give in to him, parting your lips, and let his tongue slip inside. Your hands went to his shoulders, and he pulled you by your waist, holding you close to him.

His lips moved to your jaw, nipping and licking as his hands slowly lowered to your hips, pressing against your skin.

Pulling you even closer until he was the only thing you could think of. The only one you wanted to kiss, and never stop.

Your breath hitched as he licked your earlobe with the tip of his tongue before dragging his teeth. Minho moved the tip of his nose along your neck, his lips softly grazing your skin, until he placed a kiss on your throat. Your hands went to his neck, pulling his lips to yours. He didn’t hesitate, kissing you deeply. "My room," he said against your lips, and you only nodded.

His room was dark, and you walked to raise the blinds, letting all the moonlight enter the room. 

Your eyes roamed at the scenario outside the window, to the buildings, the empty streets, the moon, and the stars. It must be almost 3 a.m. now. 

Minho’s presence was strong behind you. You could feel the thick tension around both of you. His chest touched your back, and you felt his skin. You wonder when did he took his shirt off. 

Minho’s hands went up to your waist, but a little too high, where his fingers grazed the lower part of your breast. 

You wanted his hands on you. Right now. 

"You can still back off now, Y/n."

You knew that, but you didn’t want to think tonight. Only feel. 

"I want it," you said, and turned to see him, the light of the moon illuminating his beautiful features and his hungry eyes. "I want you tonight."

"Only tonight?" He said, stepping closer to you, his lips a breath away from yours. You find his eyes. You didn’t know what he meant by that question, and you didn’t know what to answer.

Your hands moved to his torso and traveled to his hips. They linger there until your eyes search for him again, asking for permission.

"Go on, kitten."

The nickname made your stomach twist, and you opened the button of his jeans. Noticing he was getting hard, you pushed his trousers down. He helps you take them off. When he finishes, your eyes dart to his body.

Minho looked like a lost god on earth.

Your body suddenly felt too hot with your clothes on, even if it was just a dress. His hands went to your waist, dragging you to him.

You wanted to kiss him, even if someone else was in the back of your mind. You desperately wanted to kiss Minho. And so you did.

His plump lips enveloped yours as your tongues slid against each other, tasting each other. But Minho didn’t give you time to savor the kiss.

He shoved you into bed. You saw a devilish smirk on his face. You can’t help but bite your lips, trying to hold back your excitement. Minho was your friend, but you can’t deny he is hot as fuck.

He was on top of you, eyes roamed your body until one of his hands cupped your breast and the other stroked the tops of your thighs, reaching for the hem of your dress. Your hands went to his body, feeling the hard muscles of his shoulder, chest, and abs. 

He bent down, and you leaned to kiss him, but he denied you by merely brushing his lips on yours.

"Don’t tease me," you say as Minho smiles softly at you.

"But it’s so fun to tease you."

His hands pull your dress up, and you sit to help him take it off of you. You saw his eyes observing your body like a painter would a painting. His finger unclipped your bra, and your neck got a little warm as he got rid of it. 

Then his eyes met yours, and again you felt a fire burning inside you, gaining more and more flames.

His hands went to your aching breasts, palming them, cold fingers grazing your nipples. He was only touching you, but you were already overwhelmed. You pull him into a kiss, feeling his plump lips on yours. A whine came out of your mouth as he pressed harder, and your hands tightened around his shoulders.

He broke the kiss as his fingers tugged and squeezed your nipple, pausing only a couple of times to thumb on the very tip.

"Tell me where you want me to touch you." He said, with his breath in your neck. You shiver with his lips brushing against your skin and close your thighs to seek friction.

"Oh, you want me here?"

His fingers traced your body from your ankles, then slowly up to the back of your knees, and your eyes closed at the sensitive feeling.

"Or here?" He said, his eyes staring at yours. He took his time to reach your inner thigh, and your pussy already clenched on nothing.

"Higher," you say, almost desperate.

And you felt his finger moving upward. You opened your legs to let him in, but Minho skipped the place you wanted him the most, and his hands went to your hips. Teasing you again.

"Minho," you whine.

"Tell me exactly what you want."

You see his teasing smile, head tilted to the side. You were slightly annoyed, but your needy spoke louder, and you answered him in one exhale. "Your hands on my pussy."

He pecks your lips. "Good girl."

In a smooth movement, Minho takes your panties off you, letting you completely naked. His eyes stared at you. Like you were his prey. Your heart raced as he got closer again, as his cold hands touched you hips. You were at his mercy, and you liked it. 

In a smooth movement, Minho takes your panties off, leaving you completely naked. His eyes stared at you. Like you were his prey. Your heart raced as he got closer again. His cold hands touched your hips.

You were at his mercy, and you liked it. 

His hands moved downward until they finally traced your wetness, exploring your folds gently and slowly. 

You breathe out his name.

He bent down to kiss you, biting your lower lips, licking and kissing you deeply, his mouth moving at the same rhythm as his finger did. You didn't know how much longer you could hold yourself.

Minho was not only playing with your body but also with your mind. 

You gasped when he pressed his fingertip on your clit, before circling it. The pressure made your insides tighten. Minho slides his fingers inside you, preparing you for him.  The climax came faster than you expected, and you came on his hands. 

Minho kissed you then said, in a whisper, "Can I taste you?"

You only gave him a nod before he shifted between your legs. You sink into his bed, spreading your legs further. Your back arched in anticipation when you felt his breath on your pussy.

"Patience, kitten."

And his words made you wetter. Minho pressed a gentle kiss before lightly flicking his tongue over your clit, teasing you more than anything.

You looked at him, and his head went up, like he felt you staring, and he smirked at you before diving down on you, finally giving you what you needed.

He licks your pussy and sucks your clit, making you a screaming mess. The way he fucks you with his tongue makes you high, and you never want to come down again. You writhe under his touch, and he holds you firmly. Minho is relentless with his mouth. The pleasure builds in your clit, and when he starts fucking you with three fingers, you scream. His tongue doesn't stop sliding along your wet slit.

"Come, kitten," he says, "come for me."

Like your body obeyed him, you felt the waves of pleasure swallow you until you drowned in him. Your hands thread through Minhos’s hair and guide him over you as the orgasm overflows you.

Minho got up, wrapped his hand around your waist, and pulled you to him. His other hand found the back of your neck, and he had a devilish smirk.

"Such a good girl for me."

Then he kissed you, harsh, impetuous, and a little bit vicious.

You parted your lips, welcoming his tongue, exploring your mouth, and feeling yourself in him. But that’s all you could do as Minho devoured you, pressing you against him while his fingers angled your head back. He was taking control, deepening the kiss, almost like he was possessing you, owning you with every move of his tongue, and pressing his lips.

You love it.

His hands went to your hips, and Minho scooted over the edge of the bed and dragged you to his lap.

"Condom?"

"I don’t mind without it. I’m on pills, but if you want—"

He kissed you again, humping his hips against you, letting you feel how painfully hard he is.

“I want you,” Minho said. His lips go to your neck, sucking your skin. “I can’t hold myself any longer.”

You open your legs more. Your eyes are on him when he slides his cock inside you. Moans and groans come out of both of you. He was stretching you so well. So good. 

"Come on, kitten," he said, with a firm grip on your hips. "Bounce on my cock."

You sit on your knees on the bed, wrap your arms around Minho’s shoulders, and slide him out and back in. His fingers gripped your thighs hard, driving you down on him.

"Minho." You moan as you look at him. Admiring him. 

His hair was out of his face, and a little sweat ran down his temple. The muscles of his arms and shoulders, his chest, and his abs all constricted as he shoved into you. Such a beautiful sight. But the best part—the one that brought a flutter to your stomach—was his dark eyes, holding so much in them. And his lips, always begging to be kissed.

At least for tonight. 

You clench around him, and he throbs inside of you.

"Fuck, kitten."

Minho captures your nipples with his mouth, licking and biting, making you yelp and jolt against him.

Then, the pleasure builds again, and you rock your clit against him, grinding against Minho and sliding down his cock.

Minho thrusts up, quickening his tempo, and tightens his hold on you as he guides your hips down the length of him. You help him, bouncing relentlessly as both of you get closer to come.

"Fuck. Just like that."

He grows harder inside you, and his chest rises and falls quickly. Your heart hammered inside you, your breathing picked up, and you felt your head dizzy, high with desire.

"Oh yeah, Y/n. Fuck—"

Your pleasure flourished as Minho’s entire body tensed. He growled and slammed into you, filling you with his cum. And you come with him, your head in his neck, losing yourself one more time in his arms.

You were spread out in Minho’s bed, looking out the window, still dizzy after the pleasure of the night. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but you could see its rays starting to appear. You didn't know what to feel. You still wanted to cry, and your heart still beats for another. Will time change your feelings?

Minho was behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, but the rest of his body didn’t touch yours. You didn’t know if you wanted to, either.

You recall the memories of the beginning of the night and how he was gentle with you, caring about you.  It wouldn’t be bad to love him. He was your friend. There was intimacy. 

You knew he wanted to forget someone else too. Should you two help each other like this? Would it make a mess even bigger than it is now? It feels like it would.

You heard him wake up with a soft grunt. He rolled to your side entirely until his chest touched your back. His head went to your neck, and his arms caged you tightly. You moved back a little, searching for more of the warmth of his chest.

"Did you sleep?" He asked.  The motion of his lips on your neck made you shiver. His voice was low and rusky. You never heard his voice like that. It makes your body tingle with desire. The pain in your heart subsides as his chest rises and falls against your back.

"A little."

He hummed. You felt him stay there, just breathing you. What now? Should you say anything? Should you go home? Home made your heart ache. You close your eyes, not wanting to think about the day ahead. 

"Minho."

"Y/n."

"Do you think the coffee shop is already open?"

"Maybe, why?"

"I liked a little too much of that muffin."

He snorted and placed a gentle kiss on your neck. "Let’s grab some then," he said, holding you even closer. His arms were big, and you felt safe in them. You both stayed there, neither of you moving to get out of bed. 

A lump started to form in your throat, and you held back the tears that threatened to form. Last night, you were so sure you’d be all alone. Go through the pain alone. But Minho is here, by your side. Holding you tight. 

"Minho."

"Y/n." 

"Thank you," you said, your voice quivering. You needed to get it off your chest.

"What for?" Minho said, and you were sure that if you turned to look at him, you'd see the frown on his sleepy face.

You took a deep breath and said, "For everything, for last night, for being my friend."

For helping me pick up my shattered heart when I thought no one would do it anymore.

You felt him smile in your neck, and his lips brushed on it, tracing your skin to the end of your shoulder and all the way up, biting you until you shivered.

"Maybe more than friends now."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

PS: You can’t catch the flu just because you’re out in the cold weather.

Author's note: Hi! I hope you liked this story. English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love 🖤

Copyright © 2023 by Writerastray

[unholyhelbig]

“You’re supposed to be dead.” was so strong felt like you hit me with that sentence I even forgot the title can’t wait for next part!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 4,695

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Sorry for the delay on this one. I promise I'll hit you guys with less tragic backstory and more plot soon! ]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The word sounded foreign to you. Asgardian. The first syllable was doable, the start of something and the end of something in one fail swoop. It was the second syllable that threw you off. Guardian. That wasn’t something you had ever been, nor did you want to be. The two women that frequented your holding cell, now they were guardians.

You were never one of those superhero junkies. Not like the rest of the world. They were infatuated with the Avengers and even more so with the media coverage of them. The main six would do their due diligence and go in for interviews, the occasional ribbon cutting on new Children’s Hospitals.

It was the C and D list heroes that gave you the ultimate ‘ick’. There were reality television shows that highlighted their daily lives and social media accounts that reported on their flings and lack thereof. Of course, they’d home in on the Avengers too, but they circled like vultures, and it was the main reason you had seen the phrase ‘Asgardian’ in the first place.

Thors Summer Body.

Jesus Christ, they called it the Asgardian Abdominal Workout and you had scoffed at the stupid title and graphics on Instagram while you wiped the neon orange Cheeto dust from your fingers onto the front of your shirt.

You didn’t know what they meant for you, but you paced the length of your holding cell while you thought about it. It was day three and you were getting stir crazy. So much so, that when Natasha entered with your lunch for the day, you threw yourself against the glass.

Both of her eyebrows went sky high, grip tightening on the plastic tray. “Whoa, okay. Good afternoon to you too, Kitten.”

“Why do you do that?” You asked.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not intrigued by me.”

She was the only one who hadn’t resulted to the poking and prodding, and endless tests that had been run on you. Of course, Wanda was more likely to stick around for a conversation. She’d spend hours with you, just talking, staring at you while you slept. Your mind had chosen to be a challenge, and that excited her. It was more of an emotion than you pulled from her wife.

Natasha let out a sigh and clicked her way through the passcode. You had half the mind to shove past her, just to get out of this stale air. But, she was the Black Widow, and you knew your odds were slim. So, you stayed put, backing away to give her enough room.

She usually placed the tray on the table and then retreated with less than five words to you. But this time, she closed the door and turned towards you, arms crossed over her chest. The pure strength of her physic intrigued you, made a rosy color bloom against your cheeks.

“I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t.” She sounded out carefully. “Do you know Hawkeye?”

You nodded. He was the guy with the arrows, the only other person on the Avengers that had molded their skills instead of inheriting them. Jenn spoke fondly of him, had helped with a case a few years back that you couldn’t recall. You had been struck by the stomach flu and remember being particularly miffed that you hadn’t gotten to meet him.

“So did Loki. Briefly. He was the first big threat that we encountered as a team and he wormed his way into Clint’s mind, changed him because Clint was mortal, and Loki was a different kind of God. A trickster, and an Asgardian.”

“You’re… afraid of me?”

Natasha laughed and if you hadn’t been so wounded by the noise, you would have found it pleasurable. She closed the distance between you both. She smelled soft, floral. It was different from Wanda and from the nurse who had been in and out, growing bolder the more she worked on you.

“No, sweetie. But don’t be so offended, little intimidates me. I know that like our world, you come from one of your own. One with good guys and bad guys. I just hope that you know which side of the line you fall on.”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t even know who you were, much less if there was some malice deep down in your core. Right now, all you were was restless. While you were a homebody that usually extended to shitty television and greasy snacks. Neither of which was offered here.

Wanda brought you a novel to read, but it was in old English and hurt your head to squint at the words on the yellowed pages. You’d only gotten a quarter of the way through. The rest of your time was spent getting jammed with needles and staring at the blank ceiling.

“Hungry?” Natasha asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Alright then, come on.”

You blinked dumbly at her, narrowing your eyes. This could be some form of sadistic trap, but really, what did you have to lose? You were cooperative thus far. No matter where she led you, it would be better than here.

The floor was startling and cold against your bare feet, your jaw clenching in response to the change that hit your skin. Natasha watched you carefully, two steps in front of you but still with a keen eye.

The two of you took enough turns that you wouldn’t be able to find your way out of the compound, much less back to your holding cell, without her. The walls all looked the same, steel lock protected doors lining either side of the corridors. There were no discerning stock photos to spruce up the place, not even windows. If you knew any better, you would say that you were underground.

The elevator was warmer. Natasha used the keycard on her waist to operate it. You stared down at your feet. They were bruised from your excursion through the cemetery. Your hand reached out to the side of the elevator when it lurched forward, throwing you off your balance.

Natasha reached over and grasped your elbow, keeping you steady. Her warmth was domineering, running through you like a heated iron rod. You decided to change the subject for your own self-preservation. “What are we doing exactly? Because if you’re leading me to my demise, then you owe me a replacement lunch, first.”

She scoffed “Is food all you think about? From what I remember you were wolfing down week-old takeout when we met.”

“It’s not all I think about,”

At least, it didn’t used to be. Lately, you were starving at all times, thinking of your next meal directly after you’d finished your first. It was almost as if you were burning off more calories than you could consume. At first, you figured it was your body’s way to catch up after being buried alive- buried dead- but it persisted.

“uh-huh, you know my wife reads minds, right? Seems like all you think about is food and sex.”

“That’s not, I don’t-“Your cheeks heated up and you covered your face with both of your hands. God, this elevator ride was too long. You would be perfectly content digging another grave and laying in it.

“Relax. I’m teasing you.” She nudged you with her shoulder. “You and me, though, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together these next few days. Fury wants us to run more tests that don’t involve needles and EKG’s. That okay with you, kitten?”

You nodded, tongue officially tied. Each time she called you that, you felt arousal pool in your stomach that was quickly ebbed away by guilt. There was no way that you would allow yourself to be taken by the Black Widow. It was her job to be alluring.

And then there was her wife, the woman that you were equally infatuated with. She had a warmth that emanated from her, but a coldness that could wash over her in an instant. It scared you. It turned you on.

Not only could she hear your less than pure thoughts about Natasha, but she wasn’t shy about letting you know she could. The corner of her lip would quirk up, almost as if she wanted to tease you about the fact and not reprimand you.

The elevator doors opened directly into an atrium that was complete with lush green grass. You flinched, holding your arm in front of you to block out the sudden burst of sun. You’d been imprisoned for the past couple of days, and before that, you were in a different type of prison.

You took a deep breath of the clean air, letting it coat your lungs. Your skin instantly warmed. Natasha didn’t’ push you, instead she let you take in the square building around you. There were tinted windows that jutted out in a hexagon shape from the structure, long hallways that lead to move testing areas, living quarters, you were sure.

“I know you haven’t worked your muscles in a bit, but I have some obstacles for you, if you’re up to the challenge, that is.”

“You kidding? I aced gym. Bring it on.”

Natasha’s wolfish smile did nothing to aide your confidence. She led you into the center of the green and squared her shoulders. You didn’t see any equipment around: no vaulting bars, or weights. It was just the two of you and the nature that surrounded. It was only when she lifted up her hands, curling them into fists, that you truly understood.

The Black Widow wanted you to fight her.

There wasn’t much time to contemplate. She moved like lightening, and though you knew she was going easy on you, the crack against the center of your nose didn’t feel like it. You let out a groan, moving both your hands to your face as warmth gushed from the center.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck!”

“You’re supposed to dodge.”

“You’re supposed to warn me.” You pressed your hands harder against the dripping wound “Oh, I’m going to die.”

Natasha scoffed and let her hands drop from their defensive position. She closed the distance between you and gripped your arm. You refused to budge, making a small noise at the back of your throat. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Move your hand, let me look at it.”

You leveled her with an apprehensive look but eventually conceded. Watery rust was against your palms, wicked into your lifeline that seemed oddly to stretch on for way too long. It had already dried, you were almost hyper-fixated on the blood. On it’s stain.

Natasha was impossibly close, you could feel her exhaling against your collarbone, her hand squeezing your face and pushing your head to the side to get a better look. Her eyebrows creased. You focused on the smattering of freckles against her nose and under her piercing eyes. You hadn’t noticed them in the fluorescents of the facility.

“Mm, well, you can heal on your own. Just like Thor.” She gave your cheek two pats and stepped back. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ,”

Natasha resumed her stance and you held your hand up as if taming a wild animal. As if that would stop her from advancing on you. From this view, you could see the blood that had slotted through your fingers and ran in interconnecting lines. It was almost like a system of roads, each leading to your wrist and drying in a strange pattern. Beautiful. Familiar.

Your hand was tingling viciously and the world around you had started to pulse. You steadied yourself, focused on the grass under your toes. The soil was damp and cold. The sun was hot and harsh. You knew exactly where you were, but the rushing sound past your ears seemed to want to change that.

“Y/n,” You heard Natasha softly. She sounded like she was suspended in air, or you in water. “Y/n, are you alright?”

1893, Chicago World’s Fair

“Miss, are you alright?” His voice filtered through your thoughts. It was smooth and amplified compared to the crowd that flitted around you. Bodies were slotted close together, different scents of spices and crushed florals mixed with the sweat of strangers.

“Yes, of course,” You assured him, seeing the worry drain from his stare. He held his prize in one palm, hard enough to morph the copper back into its original shape. “My apologies. I suppose the heat is getting to me. Please continue, Mr. Damm.”

He gave you a crooked grin. You’d stopped at his booth out of a version of pity. In truth, your eyes had locked with his across the crowded exhibition floor and you couldn’t pull yourself away. He looked like a nice enough man, standing next to a small box that was made of wood.

Glass was bordering the top half, giving the viewer a good look at the inside mechanics. There was a crank that jutted out of the side and a small slot that was in the center of the wooden base. In a room filled with ships, locomotives, and a real moving walkaway, not many people took interest in a simple party trick.

“Have you ever put a penny on a train track, miss?”

“Yes, of course.”

He grinned harder “Well, that’s a good way to lose a limb, if I do say so myself. Now, I have all ten fingers and all ten toes but there are plenty out there who are risking their lives for something that you can now get with convenience. Do you have a penny, miss?”

With heat rising to your cheeks, you fished into the damp area between your breasts and pulled out a coin, making sure it was dry. You couldn’t hide it’s warmth, but the dress you’d chosen to wear on your mothers’ recommendation was much too tight fitting to carry anything in a proper place.

Mr. Damm did not seem to mind, he simply placed the penny into a small slot on the side of the machine. “I’ve spent years crafting a rolling mill that presses designs into soft metals. Not only that, but it elongates them as well. A penny had tremendous value, but wouldn’t you sometimes prefer something more?”

“I suppose I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Ah, well, come here. Crank this lever and watch.”

You glanced at him for reassurance before doing as you were told. It put up more resistance than you were expecting, but eventually you watched two metal rollers press the copper into a longer, oblong shape. You had to admit, it was a cool sight, especially with your ability to control the speed.

Eventually, your coin popped out of the slot in the wood and it looked like anything but the penny you had provided. It was stretched and the words ‘Columbian 1893 exhibition’ were impressed into the metal. He placed it into your palm, still warm from the process.

“Very good, Mr. Damm. But, does it still hold it’s value?”

“Of course, Miss! First thing I made sure of. Though, I suggest you keep this. One day, they’ll be worth millions.” He tucked his thumbs proudly into his suspenders “I’m headed to New York City in a few days to patten this machine, here.”

You returned his smile, words caught in your throat when a hand started against one side of your waist and trailed along your back to rest on the other. The rosewater scent that accompanied Helia. She was a few inches taller than you and hugged you close to her pale form.

There were dark circles under her sunken eyes, her hair a jet black. She often captured the eyes of anyone in the room. But in a room with so many wonders it was hard to notice her among them. People often thought of her as sick. But you knew better. Helia simply mirrored a specter. She was filled with a sharp kindness that was preceded by her excitement.

“Sister, what have you got there?” She plucked the coin from your hand and ran her pale finger over it “Very nice! This is fantastic, sir. Really amazing. I hope you don’t mind if I steal y/n away from you.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Damm gently took your hand and placed a dry kiss on the top of your hand. “It was fantastic to meet you, miss. Enjoy the fair.”

Helia had pulled you away by the waist before you could respond. You wiped the top of your hand against the rough fabric of your dress, suppressing a chill. He was nice enough, an average looking guy. Deep down you knew your mother only let you attend to see if you could attract some type of man.

She’d long ago deemed you feral, her wild-child that held the beauty but none of the grace to settle down with an acceptable husband. You wore Helia’s dress because she would have left you to rot in the hot motel room if you hadn’t at least attempted to look presentable.

“Mother is going to be so upset with you,” You tsked, “pulling me away from a possible suitor.”

“Oh, the inhumanity. We have to hurry. Jorell has been holding the same spot in line for the Ferris Wheel. We simply must join him. I don’t have the patience to wait another day.”

“At least you are one to admit your flaws.”

“Hush, walk faster.”

You felt incredibly stiff in the dress but followed her a quicker pace. Your brother had sacrificed his entire day to make sure the three of you could rise high above the fair. You’d long given up on your own ability to stand in a stretching line and you’d had to keep him waiting even longer.

A light drizzle had begun to fall from wispy grey clouds, instantly cool on your skin. Helia hugged you closer, silently pleading for the ride to still be operational. There was no electricity crackling through the sky, nor a worried look on a single patron’s face.

Jorell waved the two of you over, boots splashing against the cobblestone. His hair was damn, inky and falling into his ghostly stare. His shirt was soaked through at this point, the white outlining the curves and dips of his stature. The strong, protective man that had yet to find a suitor either. Though, mother was much less persistent when it came to her only son.

“Where did you find her?” He smirked.

“Playing with coins.”

“I wasn’t playing with anything. If you must know, a very nice man was giving me a demonstration of his invention.”

Helia nudged him in the ribs, “She took pity on him, like she does all helpless creatures.”

You suppressed a groan. Certainly, you were deemed to softest of the three siblings, though you knew when it was necessary to put a thing out of it’s misery. You’d bring home stray cats and then make excuses for the parasites that were attached to it.

“Come on, we’re next!”

Helia grabbed your hand and gave it an excited squeeze. There were two metal steps leading up to the boarding area. A man stood next to a gally of machinery, and unlike Mr. Damm’s penny pressing box, you couldn’t see inside of it. He held a black umbrella up to protect the panel from the weather.

He grunted out “No single riders, only two to a car. One of you will have to sit this out.”

It would be fair to let Jorrell and Helia take the helm. You weren’t much of a fan of heights anyway, and the diming in your sisters’ eyes at the news was enough to break you. “You two go on ahead.”

“You’re sure?” Jorell asked, lifting a dark eyebrow.

“I’m positive, go! I’ll be waiting right here.”

Maybe you did take too much pity on the beasts around you. They certainly stuttered to find kindness, as did you in moments. But at the base of the worlds first Ferris Wheel you would have done any kindness for the strangers that flitted around you. Especially for your own family.

You watched as they boarded the cart closest to the bottom, the last riders until a chain was slipped across the front, blocking the rest of the patrons. Bad weather. You heard the man mutter, but paid no mind. He certainly wouldn’t let them ride if the conditions were too dangerous.

They grew smaller and smaller as the monolithic machine carried them to the very top of the loop. You craned your neck, having to look away as harder rain blurred your view. It was unladylike to wipe at your eyes, but you hadn’t given a care. Unladylike or not, you’d give anything to see Helia and Jorrell in this moment. Joy swelled in your chest.

Then, the Ferris Wheel lurched to a stop. Strangled cries of shock floated down to you. This must be part of the exhibition. It was a naïve thought, but one that carried you for a moment more of bliss before pure terror. The next noise was grinding metal against metal, shaking that jostled many of the riders.

The speck of Jorrell had slid from his seat, the metal much too slippery from the rain. He held on to the edge, the crowd letting out sounds of distress. One woman screamed. You felt damp and useless, hand covering your mouth.

Helia gripped at the fabric of his shirt desperately trying to keep him afloat. And you believed whole-heartedly, that if the machine hadn’t lurched again, she would have been able to maintain her grip.

New inventions were faulty. They malfunctioned in different conditions. The rain had not been anticipated and neither had the harsh winds that made Chicago damp and freezing. Another sound of metal crunching and a scream that was masked within a sea of people already beginning to plan how to cope with tragedy.

You may have screamed to, but you had a feeling the noise got stuck in your throat. Jorrell had tried to grip the bars on the way down. They bit into his fingers, water making it impossible for him to swim.

He was crushed in an instant between the gears that you could see, and this time, you did cry out. You figured your legs unable to work, knees nearly hitting the cobblestone. In that moment, you thought about how it would dirty your dress.

An arm was there to steady you, grasping onto your elbow and pulling your eyes away from the scene. You were pliable in this moment, unable to question who had grabbed you. There was the scent of metal and strong cologne. They emanated comfort, tucking your head into the small of their neck to pry your eyes away from the mechanical mauling.

“Look away,” Mr. Damms voice was muffled against your ear, filling his chest cavity. “This isn’t something a lady should see, miss.”

The scream tore through your chest with a visceral pain. Your nails were digging into the soft soil, heels pushing against what you could only recognize as grass. You’d come to in a state of fight or flight. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, breath refusing to catch.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright.”

It took you a moment to realize who was in front of you. The world was dripping with color, the rushing sensation fading from your ears. Instead, it was replaced by the sound of birds, the scent of nature, the warmth of the sun. You were still outside, lying on the ground and blinking up at the crystal blue sky. No rain. No water.

Natasha was knelt next to you, a look of worry flooding her expression. She had one hand on your chest, and the other was cupping your cheek. She was checking your vitals, you were sure, because you had most certainly lost consciousness.

“Breathe in for six seconds through your nose. Good… now hold it. Only breathe out through your mouth when I tell you to.”

Your chest had started to ache when she finally gave you the nod to release the air you had greedily drawn in. She stayed with you, repeating the process three more times before you finally felt the blades of grass tickle your palms, the slight breeze touch your skin. Natasha brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear before she flopped back into a sitting position.

“Want to tell me where you just went?”

“Chicago,” You grunted out.

Natasha got this adorable crease between her brows, but she didn’t’ push any further. You squinted up at the clouds and stretched your arm out, enjoying the prickly sensation of the grass.  

“Sometimes… I get these nightmares. Most of the time I don’t remember my dreams but when these happen, they feel so real. Almost like I was there myself, which is impossible because they were decades, centuries ago.”

“What are they like? Your dreams?”

“Volatile. They all follow the same formula. A life that I couldn’t have had, an older brother who dies by water and a younger sister who just… dies. One of them meet a violent end before I can wake up, and they’ve never repeated themselves. It’s just new tragedy after new tragedy.”  

You’d always thought the dreams were weird. But, chalked them up to being related to stress. When you were a kid, it was stress about starting a new school, soccer try-outs or midterms. Then as you got older you pinned it on college admissions and failing the bar twice before submitting to be a paralegal instead.

But then, Jonathan died. Drowning just as every other version of him had.

 You’d never told anyone about the dreams and now you were sounding them out with a near-stranger who you were pretty sure used to be a villain. You’d read that on the back of a cereal box once while it tore up the roof of your mouth with its sugary edges. You didn’t’ put much faith in the trivia.

“That must be scary,”

You pulled yourself up, resting your arms on your knees. You were sure you looked disheveled, but she gazed at you with something of admiration and a recognition of pain.  She’d pulled a blade of grass from the earth and was shredding it in a nervous habit.

“Chicago, huh?”

“The Worlds Fair, actually. I got a penny.”

“Oh?” She gave you a small smile “My, well, aren’t you rich.”

The two of you laughed, a small moment that filled you with content. It seemed to fill the crater that had just opened up in your soul. If it even was your soul to fill. It eventually flickered out, silence washing over you.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Are you going to figure out what’s wrong with me?”

Your voice broke and you were tempted to muffle it with a cough. You didn’t’ want to show weakness. It was a golden rule in your family. The embarrassment of your actions in the dream still lingered on your tongue. Falling into the arms of Mr. Damm and his listless invention.

“Why can’t I die if everyone around me dies too easily?”

You all but whispered the words, and a soft, pitying noise came out of Natasha that you weren’t expecting. She clenched her jaw and unclenched it as if she was afraid to mince her words. There was almost anger, no, frustration, with herself behind her stare.

“Nothing is wrong with you, y/n. According to your bloodwork, you’re extraordinary. Growing stronger and stronger every day. You’re an enigma, even by Asgardian standards. But you’re not impossible to solve. We’ll figure you out.” She glanced down at the grass between her fingers, shredded another green strip. “No one deserves to live with that much pain.”

With a nod, you wiped away the tears that escaped with the base of your palms, careful to avoid looking at the blood. You’d never passed out like that, had a vision, a memory, forced upon you with the pull of a trigger. You didn’t want to risk it.

“Let’s get you a shower, yeah?” She stood and reached out her arm before hoisting you to your feet.

“Are you saying I stink?”

“I thought I was being very direct about the fact. Besides, I may have hit you a little hard, kitten.”

“I knew it!”

She grabbed you by the hand and pulled you along, as if she didn’t trust you on your own feet. Her grip was reminiscent of Helias, strong and consistent and filled with nothing but care. You let her lead you, hoping the blood wasn’t the only thing the shower would wash down the drain.

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[ghostbeam]

swore i could feel you through the walls | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Dabi knows that he can’t leave you now. You belong to him, and he belongs to you, and the stars knew before either of you did. And Dabi can’t argue with fate, or destiny, or pure dumb luck, not that he wants to. He pulls your comforter up over his body. He’ll be here when you come home to him. In a place made for staying, Dabi thinks he will.

Notes: hiiiiii so this is an idea that has been bouncing around my head for like. Literal years ajsjsjsjs It’s always kind of been more of a horror idea and then I fanficified it and now it’s this! This was kind of a process and I rewrote and replanned and went over this over and over again but I think it is at a place that I am mildly happy with. It’s a completely ridiculous idea and I’m honestly a little insecure about it but fuck it!! Thanks for reading hope u enjoy<3 (title from Chinese satellite by Phoebe bridgers) listen to the playlist here!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader, explicit content, yandere!dabi, stalking, Dabi hides in readers house without her knowledge, some paranoia, psychological abuse, slight yandere!reader, mentions of somnophillia but no actual instances of it, violence, non-consensual voyeurism (Dabi watches reader masturbate), unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, marking, biting (shoulder, neck), painplay, one mention of carving names into skin with no instance of it, mentions of blood (reader bites dabi’s neck and draws blood), use of good girl, mutual obsession

Words: 9.3k

He can’t breathe. 

Dabi runs from the low-ranked hero, surprisingly fast on his tail as the distance between the two becomes smaller and smaller. With his lungs burning, his skin irritated from quirk use, and the lack of help from his peers, Dabi realizes that he needs to find a way to lose the ice quirk user that is quickly gaining on him. 

Turning down a narrow alleyway, he’s disappointed to find that it’s a dead end. He pauses to catch his breath, keeping himself tucked tightly against the shadowy wall. Dabi surveys his surroundings, finding nothing but garbage before he looks up. He’s against an apartment building, he realizes, looking at the lights in the windows above him. 

All windows are lit except one.

Dabi doesn’t have the time to wonder about the owner, shaking his head and forcing himself up the fire escape, preparing himself to use his quirk if it comes down to it. He breaks the lock on the darkened window and shuffles inside. He falls over a stack of books that sits underneath the window, freezing on the floor as he listens for any movement throughout the walls. When he hears nothing, he stands from the floor and closes the window, creeping down the hall in search of the other rooms. There’s one bathroom and a bedroom with no one inside, and relief rushes over Dabi as he feels his shoulders relax.

Assuming you won’t be home for a while, Dabi makes his way back to the main room, turns the light on, and heads for the kitchen. He looks through your fridge for something to eat, pulling out a Tupperware of leftovers that he heats in the microwave. As he waits for the seconds to pass, he looks around the apartment. 

It sets in, then, how lived in the place is, shelves full of books, records and DVDs, art and photos against the walls, leaving almost no space for the blankness underneath. The kitchen is pink, he realizes, looking around and eyeing the various knickknacks shaped like mushrooms or kittens, unique magnets hang a mess of papers on the fridge beside post-it notes of reminders. 

He wants to hate it. It’s a complete mess, chaotic even, but he can’t bring himself to. He’s intrigued now. He ignores the beeping of the microwave and steps away from the kitchen, observing the various pictures on the walls. It’s not difficult to find the owner of the apartment, the face showing up in a multitude of snapshots. Your face.

As he looks at the walls, he finds himself stuck on you, the curve of your jaw, your lips, your eyes. You make his heart beat in his chest, excitement bubbling at the realization that he is standing in your home, in your space, right in the middle of your entire life. 

You’re beautiful. He feels his stomach drop.

The more he explores, the more he seems to like you. The Sargent print on your wall, the Rilke in your bookshelf, the numerous albums in your collection that he knows nothing about. He flips through the pages of your books, smiling at your annotations, the ink between the pages, and the tiny star you draw next to your favorite passages. He runs his fingers across the words over and over again, committing them to memory, the need to love the things you love burning in his chest. 

It’s not enough, he realizes, looking through just this room. He stalks down the hallway and turns the light to your bedroom on. And oh, how content he feels in here, a room clearly much more personal than the one out there. It’s a bit of a mess, with clothes on the floor and the bed like you’d changed out of many different outfits before leaving. The full-length mirror against your wall is peppered with postcards and pictures from magazines and those same post-it notes: call mom, pay the phone bill, need more cotton pads. So, you’re forgetful. Dabi smiles at the knowledge. 

There are string lights of stars hanging on your ceiling and lamps in the shape of flowers on your bedside table. Your bed is unmade and you have sheets with scatters of constellations on them. Your affinity for stars makes him smile, one more thing he’s found in common with you. 

It shocks him how interested he is in you, in all of the things that make up your little life. But the more he explores, the more he’s sure you’re made for him.

He looks through your closet, through your dresser, stuck rummaging through your underwear drawer. Every set of lingerie you have is some variation of blue, and Dabi can’t help but feel as though it’s for him. It’s all for him, your things, you. Fate, or the universe, or luck itself is on his side. He pockets a pair of panties that closely resembles his eyes before turning to your desk. More post-it notes are stuck to the surface, and there’s a notebook that he reaches for before your wall catches his eye. There are more photos, haphazardly taped up and not at all as organized as your living room, but he can tell they’re important to you: family photos, people he recognizes from films, rock singers, and—him. 

Dabi is on your wall.

The photo is one that went viral a couple of months back when he got into an altercation with one of the top ten heroes. He remembers the fight well because of how large his flames grew, and the damage that he did to the surrounding area, to the people, to the hero he was up against. He’s stood with his arms out in front of him, neon flames emanating from his palms as the moment in battle is frozen in time forever on your wall. You printed it out on photo paper and everything. He plucks it from its spot and turns it over. Your handwriting with his name and a heart is scrawled on the blank space. He runs a thumb over the heart, feeling his face warm up.

This isn't a mistake. You know who he is, and you’re a fan, not just of the photo itself, but of him. He wonders if you’re one of those weirdos he’s seen online with accounts dedicated to him, one of the anonymous boxes that engage in discussions about his quirk and identity, losers grasping at any detail they can that might bring them closer to the truth, or just to him in general.

But the more he thinks about it, the more excited he gets, thinking about you saving blurry pictures of his fights to your phone, watching youtube videos of him with shitty quality, and tweeting about him with stupid little emojis. He wonders if you dream of him, if you think of him while touching yourself, or if you fantasize about silly things like being a villain’s girlfriend. He likes thinking of you like this, just as obsessed with him as he’s becoming with you. 

Dabi doesn’t care what it’s called: divine intervention, cosmic love, soulmates. All are true; none capture how this feels. 

Your laptop is password protected and his name doesn’t work when he tries, so he moves on from your bedroom. Entering your bathroom, he looks through your medicine cabinet, analyzing your meds and products as he searches for every bit of information he can. He looks at the lipstick that sits on the counter and debates putting it on in the form of an indirect kiss but decides to pocket it instead. He sprays each and every one of your perfumes, deciding which is his favorite, and throwing the one he dislikes out the window he came through, watching it shatter against the cement.

He pulls back the shower curtain and begins to strip, turning the water on and letting the heat hit his worn-out body. He hasn’t felt water pressure this good in years. He uses your shampoo, your conditioner, your rose-scented soap, even though it’s sure to irritate his scars. He uses everything he can to be close to you, to smell like you, to have any piece of you even though you’re not here. 

When he’s done, he lays in your bed, against the sheets that you occupy every night except tonight, and stares up at the string lights above him. He picks up the stuffed bear with angel wings that sits against one of your pillows, caressing the ears between two fingers. He thinks about you, about the things he doesn’t know, details you don’t have plastered to your walls or hidden between pages of poetry books. He wants to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, how you’d look undone beneath him.

Dabi knows that he can’t leave you now. You belong to him, and he belongs to you, and the stars knew before either of you did. And Dabi can’t argue with fate, or destiny, or pure dumb luck, not that he wants to. He pulls your comforter up over his body. He’ll be here when you come home to him. In a place made for staying, Dabi thinks he will. 

He can finally breathe. 

…

The keys to your apartment chime against your door as you move to unlock it, hoards of keychains rattling against each other as you push the heavy door open. It slams shut behind you and you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter, hauling your suitcase behind you. The familiar pang of loneliness hits you immediately as you look out over your crowded apartment. 

“I’m home.” You mutter softly, running your fingers over the plush fabric of your couch. 

No matter how much you try to distract yourself with books and posters and comfortable shag carpets, you still feel the same each time you come home to emptiness.

You roll your suitcase to your bedroom, deciding that unpacking is a job for the you of the future while the you of the present deserves to sink into the couch and watch tv. Your unmade bed catches your eye and you wonder if you’d forgotten to tidy up before you left to visit your mother. You don’t dwell on it, dragging your tired body to your couch and turning on your television. You flip through multiple channels before a name on the news catches your attention: Dabi.

Your obsession with the cremation villain seemingly happened overnight. The League of Villains had intrigued you due to their mission to dismantle hero society, a cause that resonated with you as a quirkless citizen. When Dabi joined the group, you were immediately interested in the aloof and mysterious fire quirk-user. You never stood a chance. You spent hours on message boards, gathering any and all information on the group as you could in order to feel closer to him. Your adoration never made much sense to those you talked to online with the lack of information available about the man. But as the League grew in popularity, details about Dabi became far more accessible to the general public. His true identity remained a mystery but two things you were certain of: his quirk came with a drawback in the form of his own body and fire got him excited. 

And now, the news anchor on your television was relaying the news that he had been seen around your neighborhood and still hadn’t been found. You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest, excitement bubbling up as you think about the prospect of catching a glimpse of him in real life. Realistically, you know there’s no way that Dabi stuck around here, understanding the risks of staying in one place for too long as a wanted criminal, but the thought makes your stomach flip. You lean back against your couch, clutching the remote in one hand and letting out an excited giggle. For a moment, you’re grateful for the emptiness of your apartment, your embarrassing display of excitement only witnessed by you and you alone. 

You spend a few hours on LOV fan accounts and forums, hoping to find out any more details about the news, but most people online say it’s not worth looking into. Much like you thought, Dabi was most likely far away from your place by now.

Finding nothing, you stand up from your couch, stretching your arms above your head as you make your way to your bathroom. You turn on the shower and allow it to heat up as you find something to sleep in. When you return, you strip and step into the shower. Your mind wanders toward thoughts of Dabi as you stand underneath the water. You’re disappointed. The one weekend you leave town, the love of your life visits your building. The endless push and pull is frustrating. 

It’s something that’s happened to you time and time again, coming across the aftermath of an attack, or arriving somewhere that Dabi was rumored to have been seen. You keep missing him by mere seconds, and this is no different, though you aren’t exactly sure what you would do if you ever got a chance. 

After finishing up, you step out of the shower, take a towel from the hook on the wall and dry yourself off. You change into your clothes and reach towards your medicine cabinet before pausing. Drawn in the steam on the mirror is a heart. You stare at it, examining it closely. Had you drawn on the mirror the last time you showered? When was the last time you cleaned the mirror? You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a loud bang coming from your living room. 

Without thinking, you rush towards the sound, spotting the door to your hallway closet slamming shut. You freeze where you stand at the end of the hallway, weighing your options before deciding you don’t have much time to think about it. Bolting to your kitchen, you pick up a large knife from its block, before carefully making your way back to your closet. With the knife in one hand, you turn the knob to the door, pulling it open in a hurry and holding the blade in front of you. You’re met with nothing but your own things, coats, and dresses that you never wear, a closet full of items left unused. Even when you push through the racks of clothes, you find nothing. 

Relief washes over you at the knowledge that you are in fact here alone. You lower the knife, allowing yourself to breathe as you calm down. You stare down at the weapon in your hand, scoffing. 

“What was I going to do with this?” You speak out loud. Even if somebody was in your home, could you really defend yourself? You’re quirkless, you aren’t trained in any sort of self-defense, and you’re not even sure you’d have the guts to actually stab someone. You shake your head, walking to your kitchen to put it back. 

You retreat to your bedroom, pulling back the covers of your unmade bed, clutching your bear in one arm, and staring up at the ceiling. 

Inside of your hallway closet, up against the wall, Dabi’s shoulders relax. He imagines you with your knife outside of the door, the scared expression on your face, one he could only see from in between your coat and the wall. Your eyebrows pinched up and your eyes wide, your bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. He takes pride in being the reason for that look. He pulls away from the wall, carefully sliding out of the closet and shutting the door behind him. He looks down the hallway, toward the door that you’ve left ajar. He wants to sneak in, watch your chest rise and fall, caress your cheek, and feel you lean into his touch, but he knows you're more than likely awake, still shaken up from his antics. 

He’ll be back tomorrow, anyway.

…

The encounters continue into the rest of the week. Doors creak open and things fall from shelves. You hear noises late into the night and find more hearts left on reflective surfaces, your mirrors, your television, your windows. 

With no sign of another living thing inside of your home with you, the only explanation you have left to give yourself is something paranormal, even if you aren’t sure of it yourself. 

And besides, you kind of like the idea of living with a ghost. This one seems to be in love with you. 

On top of all of the hearts, your ghost has knocked off books of love poems from your bookshelves, blasted Linger by The Cranberries from your speakers, and flipped through television channels to land on one playing In the Mood for Love. And when you fall asleep at night, just as you can feel yourself crossing the boundary between sleep and awake, you swear you can feel your bed dip beside you. 

You don’t hate it, and you aren’t scared, and sometimes it is comforting to know that you aren’t as alone as you always believed you would be. 

Dabi watches you most days. He watches you nap on your couch and laugh at your cell phone. He watches you parade around your home in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt. He watches you concentrate on the novels you like to read, where a crease forms between your eyebrows as your eyes fly across the page. He watches you talk to yourself about anything and everything, about work, about television shows you enjoy, about him. 

He likes that you’re a complete mess in the morning, that you can barely keep yourself upright, let alone keep your eyes open while you brush your teeth. He likes that you spray the perfume he decided was his favorite all that time ago before you leave for the day. He likes that you sometimes switch between multiple different albums before settling on the one you like. He likes to watch you dance to them. He likes that he’s never heard of them before. He likes you. 

You’re a natural result of loneliness, much like he is. But where you filled your void with material things, stuff, Dabi left his empty and allowed it to grow. He would have thought it was foolish, the idea of filling that hole in him with anything other than anger and hurt, thoughts of revenge. Had he not fallen for you, maybe he would have hated you. The two had always felt so similar. 

You’re happy with him here, he notices, much happier than you had been that first night. You talk to him, your ghost. You ask him about the shows you watch, his opinion on your favorite albums, what shoes to wear to work. He’s a part of your life through knocks on the walls and highlighted lines in between the pages of your books and soft touches in the middle of the night. 

Dabi holds it all close to his Molotov heart and hopes that the ruin is worth it. 

…

You fall asleep almost immediately, exhausted from your busy day, one spent without your ghost. Dabi sneaks in late, caught up with league business for the past couple of days, and he misses you. 

He stares at your sleeping form against the night sky that is your sheets. He feels himself relax at the sight of you, realizing just how much it affects him to be away from you for too long. He takes his boots off at your bedroom door and walks in long strides toward you. He cups your cheek in one hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone, smiling at how you subconsciously lean into his touch.

Dabi moves to the other side of your bed, sliding in beside you. He does nothing but stare at the back of your head for a few minutes, gathering the courage to reach out and touch. He wants to hold you. He wants to do more than just lay beside you and listen to you breathe. 

He runs a hand up your arm, dragging his fingers against your skin. He wraps an arm around your midsection and pulls flush against his chest, feeling your body relax in his hold. He sneaks a hand up your sleep shirt and thumbs over the soft flesh of your stomach. Your hair smells like lavender shampoo, and it makes him nostalgic for that first night. 

A sudden sinking feeling settles in his stomach as he breathes you in, the guilt of barging into your life and bothering you to the point of delusion makes Dabi feel ill. You’re important to him now in a much deeper way than you were at the beginning. He doesn’t want to hurt you, at least not like this. 

“Dabi…” Your voice is soft, starry with sleep. He freezes against you. Your voice comes again, “Dabi.”

“It’s me, baby.” He whispers against your ear, unsure of just how awake you are.

“You’re so warm…Dabi…” You trail off, dragging the last syllable of his name. Your voice is so soft, breathy as you talk through sleep. He can feel his pants tighten at the sound from your lips. Fuck. He can’t stay here, not when you sound so sweet.

He could fuck you. He wants to. He’s not even sure you’d wake up. He’d pull pretty little moans from your throat, slotting himself between your thighs and sliding into you. You’d already be wet for him, and he’d watch your hands ball into little fists in your sleep. You’d chant his name like a prayer. He’d come deep inside of you and leave you to wake up the next morning with the evidence between your legs.

But he does not fuck you. He places a kiss to the side of your neck and pulls away from you despite the whine you let out as he detaches his body from yours. He leaves with every intention of never coming back. His ruin might be worth it, but yours isn’t. 

…

The lack of paranormal activity in your home is alarming, which is something you never thought you’d ever think about. Your ghost has been gone for weeks, and you’re afraid that you may have made it all up in your head. 

This possibility is one you dread, mainly because it has everything to do with your own sanity. If you had been imagining each event, drawing hearts in your mirrors, underlining passages in your books, and forgetting about it, you know that something has gone completely wrong. And you can’t blame it on anything outside of yourself. 

The idea that you’ve been pushed this far, that your own loneliness has you creating imaginary instances of a haunting, terrifies you. What terrifies you more is that you miss him and that you’re alone again. 

But you can’t think about it, or you know you’ll go insane, more so than you possibly already are. So you bury yourself in fuzzy blankets, and you play sad albums on your speaker, and you scroll through the same forums that comfort you in times like these. 

You know it’s pathetic, pining for someone who doesn’t know you exist, someone completely and wholly evil for all you know. A man you aren’t even sure has a heart. 

You think yours may be enough for the both of you, though.

Darkness falls over your living room in what feels like a matter of minutes, though you know it’s been hours since you first picked up your phone. Your record player has been playing the same scratchy hum that signifies the end of one side of an album. You lift your eyes from your phone screen to one of your living room windows, the one with the drawn heart in the bottom corner that you can’t bring yourself to clean off. You let your phone fall to your chest as you stare up at your ceiling and sigh. 

Your heart is a greedy, hungry thing and your mind is a tool to feed it. Through daydreams and delusion, through want, want, want. You can hide from the isolation for a while, but the pain always catches up. And tonight it hurts.

You fall onto your bed with a thud, and your phone drops beside you. There’s a dull ache underneath your skin, one all too familiar and unwanted by you. Why had he left you? His absence haunts you more than his presence ever did. 

Your phone buzzes against your sheets, a notification from one of the discussion sites you frequent lights up the screen, the subject being Dabi and the recent sightings in the city. The ache subsides. 

It’s a video of him, maybe the clearest one you’ve ever seen. He’s alone, and he’s talking to someone, or a bunch of someones, other villains. You can’t make out the words, but you can tell they’re not pretty by the way the men start to close in on him. The smile that crosses Dabi’s face is razor sharp, deadly, reaching up to his crazed eyes. You gasp when he knocks his head against one of the men’s noses. Another one punches him square in the jaw for it, and he stumbles back, touching a finger to the seam in his face. Dabi isn’t a fighter, not with his fists at least, and you’re wondering why he’s letting them get away with this. He goes to punch one of them but misses, and while he’s distracted by his own move, one of the men sends a kick to his stomach. You hear him groan before laughing, his head hanging low as he clutches the place he was hit. 

You feel hot suddenly, touching your face with your palm. You watch Dabi raise his head slowly, his laugh low and maniacal and unbelievably sexy. He licks the corner of his mouth before his hands spark with blue flames. He hurls his fire toward the men without a second thought, and that’s when the video ends. You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding against your chest. You squeeze your thighs together as you restart the video. 

It’s embarrassing how much it turns you on, watching him grin at these men, holding their life in his hands. You like watching him do more than just wield his quirk, watching his head crack against the man’s nose, watching his fist fly through the air. Something has to be wrong with you, you’re sure of it, but you can’t focus on anything but Dabi and his hands. The way that they’d feel against your skin, how they’d feel in your mouth, how they’d feel pressing your hips into your mattress. You slide your hand down your body and underneath the band of your sleep shorts. You’re already wet.

Dabi climbs through your window, the one branded with his fingerprinted heart, the window that allowed him into your life all those weeks ago. Your lights are off, and he can’t see your figure asleep on the couch in the darkness, so you must be asleep. 

He promised himself he wouldn’t come back, promised you he wouldn’t. But it hurts without you, and the ache grows, the wanting. The fucking wanting.

He tried to bury it like he does everything else, tried to burn it to ash, drink it to death, beat it out of him. He’d let those guys get in a couple of good punches tonight just to feel something. Nothing works.

But you do. 

He takes careful steps down the hallway when he hears your voice. He freezes. You’re moaning. He feels his breath catch in his chest. Of all of the days spent watching you, Dabi has never seen you like this. Desperate, aching, calling his name.

He watches you through your cracked door, spread out on your bed with your phone clutched tightly in one hand. You’re no longer watching whatever was on your screen, but you’ve left it playing as you arch against your bed. 

“Dabi…” You mewl. He has to grab the door frame to keep himself steady at the sound. “W-want it.”

Fuck. How could he possibly leave you now? He palms himself through his jeans, watching you bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. He’s so hard that he might pass out. The puffs of air that fall from your lips as your legs shake have him holding back a groan. It isn’t until your noises become quiet that he realizes just what you’re watching. 

The sound of his own laugh echoes through the speaker on your phone, and he’s surprised by the pained moan that falls from your lips at the sound. 

It’s him. You’re watching him. Dabi holds back a groan. He’s careful to free himself from his pants without a sound, not that you would notice. You’re far too gone to acknowledge him right now. He could probably let out the noises that beg to be free of his throat, but he doesn’t risk it. He can’t do anything that could stop him from watching you come for him. 

Your hand is obstructed by your sleep shorts, and the same can be said for the hand that has now discarded your phone onto the pillow beside your head and reached underneath your shirt to pinch one of your pert nipples. You’re close now, and so is he, barely able to keep his breathing steady as he strokes his hand against his cock. 

He’d give anything to barge in now, pull you toward the edge of the bed, and sink into you without a care in the world. He wants to feel you tight around him, wants to kiss your neck and bite your skin and leave traces of himself everywhere. He wants to show you that you’re his, confirm what you’ve always known. 

But instead he watches you writhe against your bed with his name falling from your lips. “Dabi–fuck! Gonna–”

You come with a loud cry, hips twitching a way that has Dabi cursing under his breath. He spills into his hand immediately after, reaching for your wall to hold himself up as he tries to keep quiet. But when his hand meets the hard surface of the wall, it collapses out from underneath, realization dawning on him that he’s pushed your bedroom door shut with a harsh slam. 

At the sound of your door, you jolt up from your bed, the ecstasy of your orgasm quickly wearing off as you freeze. You listen for any other noises, and when you hear nothing, you slowly creep from your bed. Looking around your bedroom for some kind of weapon to protect yourself, you feel yourself growing panicked when you realize you have nothing. You tiptoe to your bedroom door, pushing your ear against the surface to listen to any sign of life on the other side. You hear nothing. 

With your heart beating out of your chest, you slowly pull the door open, sticking your head out and looking down your dark hallway. There’s nobody there, and you wonder if this was yet another paranormal encounter after weeks of nothing. 

A sinking feeling in your gut tells you that there’s nothing paranormal at all about your experiences. 

You walk back to your bed in a daze, tucking yourself back under the covers and staring out your bedroom window. The video of Dabi continues to play on your phone, and you make no move to shut it off. You fall asleep to the sound, his crazed laughter somehow comforting to you in this moment. 

The sinking feeling doesn’t leave you the next morning, and there’s no sign of another human in your apartment as you check all of your windows and doors. It all makes you feel uneasy, the creeping suspicion that it’s all in your head. You’re completely alone. You have no one to confide in, and even if you did, you’re sure they’d think you're insane or an idiot for allowing any of it to go on for so long without question. 

You have no clue what to do or where to start, but you want whatever it is, ghost or not, gone. 

…

The idea is ridiculous. You know that. 

You know, standing in your living room with the ouija board you’ve just purchased sitting on your coffee table, that you are being completely ridiculous. 

“If this works, then great. Then ghosts are real.” You speak aloud to nothing. “Then I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.”

Your eyes flitter to the bottle of raspberry wine you bought on your way home, something you know is sweet and easy to drink quickly. You’ll finish the bottle in no time. You reach for it, pouring a good amount into your glass and taking a large gulp. You hold the glass to your chest, breathing in and shivering at the cool sensation against your skin. The board sits on the table, and you let out a chuckle of disbelief. 

Dabi stares at you from the darkness of your hallway. He’s been in your home since before you arrived with your children’s game and your sugary wine. You’ve been on edge for days, and Dabi knows he has everything to do with it. Still, he watches you quietly, taking in the last moments of invisibility before he has to tell you. 

You’re still staring at the board. You take another gulp of your wine and look out of the window that he climbed through. The strap of your spaghetti strap tank top is falling down. He thinks of the painting that hangs on your wall. You’re Sargent’s Madame X. He’s going to ruin your life.

“They sell those things in toy stores, you know.” He finally speaks. It all happens in slow motion: the quick jolt of your shoulders in surprise at the sound, your glass falling to the floor and shattering against your carpet, the scream that falls from your lips. 

Then suddenly, you’re looking at him, and he is looking at you, and your hand is frozen in mid-air like the glass is still in your hand. He looks down at the mess, “Shame. That ugly carpet was kind of growing on me.”

“Dabi…” Realization dawns on your face as you say his name. He looks up at you again, before turning his attention back to the mess on your carpet. He holds an arm out and beckons you toward him. 

“C’mere. You’ll cut yourself.” He tells you. You don’t move. He watches your chest rise and fall, frozen where you stand, unable to think about anything other than getting away. He watches your eyes flicker to your front door. 

It happens quickly, nothing like before, climbing over your couch and rushing as fast as you can toward your escape. He almost loses you, tripping over his feet as he reaches for you. You barely touch the handle before his arm wraps around your waist in a tight grip. You’re both panting, his breath hot against your ear. 

“What? You aren’t excited to see me?” He questions. It’s not like he expected you to accept him with open arms, but he didn’t think you’d run from him. 

“It was you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. How are you meant to feel about any of this? It’s what you wanted, right? All the times you missed each other, all those days spent disappointed that you weren’t just a little earlier or a little later. And here he is, in your home, with you, with his arms wrapped around you, no less. And you want to run? What bothers you the most is that you aren’t as scared as you should be.

“Your ghost?” He questions with humor in his words. You feel his grip tighten around you before he speaks again. “Are you disappointed?”

His voice is much softer than he intended it to be, nervousness finding its way through the mask of carelessness he so carefully hides behind. It calms your nerves, the idea that he’s just as unsure of this as you are. 

“I’m scared.” You admit. 

“Of me?” 

“I don’t know yet.” You say. He loosens his grip, arms falling to his sides as he lets you go. You step away quickly, turning to look at him while keeping a good amount of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m not–I won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He speaks, holding his hands up. “I would never–”

“Why?” Looking at him, standing in your kitchen, his hands up in surrender, his eyes pleading, Dabi is just a man. You know this, you’ve always known this. It’s why your obsession with him is as strong as it is because, underneath all of the flames, he’s alone just like you are. 

“Because you’re mine.” He sighs because he knows he must sound insane, and his answer doesn’t seem to soothe the worried look on your face. “And you know it. You do, because I’m on your fucking walls, and you stalk me like a little weirdo on your phone. You–you’re made for me.”

“Made for you?” You ask incredulously as if this isn’t the exact moment you’ve been fantasizing about since the first time you ever laid eyes on the flame user. 

“Look, I didn’t think any of it was real, none of that soulmate shit people make up so that they have something to hold onto. But, fuck, I had never felt the way I did when I climbed through your window that night.” He speaks frantically like he’s trying to convince you, prove to you that what he’s saying is the truth. “You saved me, and you don’t even know it.”

You soften, “I saved you?”

“None of this would've happened if things had gone a little differently that night. I wouldn’t know you, and you could go back to your normal life with your pictures and your books and your forums, but it didn’t so I’m here. And isn’t that something?”

“I’m just…confused.” You explain. “You’re you, and I’m sure you’ve gathered by now how embarrassingly obsessed with you I am–”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why?” He questions, leaning forward. “Does it get you all hot and bothered like that night with the video of me getting my ass kicked? That was cause of you, by the way.”

“You have to understand how fucked this is. You get that, right?” You aren’t afraid anymore. You’re angry, a little hurt, but most of all excited. Made for him. He’s probably right. 

“Yeah?” He questions, taking another step. You do back away, but he continues to follow you. “I think you like it. I think your life was so goddamn boring before me, so lonely. My little tricks made you so happy, baby.”

“Fuck you.” You spit, because he’s right, and you hate it. His hand comes up to hold your jaw with one hand, his fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly. 

“C’mon…” He tuts, leaning down to your height, “You used to be so sweet for me, snuggling up to me while you slept. You can’t hide from me. I know everything about you. And those feelings that you have for me don’t change in a matter of minutes just because I did something fucked up. I’m a villain, sweetheart, and you know it.”

“So what?” You ask. “You’re in love with me or something?” 

You want to hear him say it. You want him to tell you it’s more than obsession, more than the excitement of scaring you. 

“It’s not obvious?” He asks, releasing your jaw from his tight grip and running his thumb against your cheek to soothe you. “You ruin me.”

You shake your head, “Say it.”

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do. 

It shouldn’t feel as romantic as it does. With him pushing your hips into your kitchen counter, his lips so soft against yours, you forget all of it. None of it matters to you, anyways. Maybe it’s the worst way for any of this to happen. Maybe it’s the only way.

He pulls away, watching your eyes flutter open, your lips swollen from his kiss. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and you’re touching his face without a hint of disgust. You’ve always been his. He surges forward, catching you off guard and pulling you into another kiss, this one much more hurried and desperate. You gasp when he presses into you, the growing bulge in his jeans hard against your thigh. He takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, earning a choked whine from your lips. You struggle to keep up with him, with his hands everywhere. You’re overwhelmed. 

“Dabi, wait.” You speak for the split second that he pulls away. He shakes his head, kissing down your jaw as you try to catch your breath.

“Can’t.” He speaks in between kisses. “You’re–I need you. Please, please, I’m–”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, pulling him away from your neck to look at you. “Dabi. Hey.”

“Hi.” He speaks, unable to resist the urge to press his lips to yours in a quick peck before pulling away again. It makes you smile, though, so he does it one more time. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted me?”

“I think there is something very, very wrong with me.” You say because you have to acknowledge it, at the very least. You want him so bad it burns. 

“Yeah, me too.” He kisses you again. “Made for me, remember?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “maybe I am.”

“You are.” He says against your lips. “You are, you are, you are.”

You’re in your bedroom before you have any time to think about it, your back against your sheets as Dabi hovers over you. He pauses, his frantic movements from moments ago now at a standstill as he stares down at you. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You speak without hesitance. 

“Yeah?” He slots his hips in between yours, running a hand up the side of one of your thighs as you make room for him. “All mine, huh? Gonna let me keep you?”

“Uh huh.” You nod. “You can keep me.”

“Good.” He drags his lips down the column of your neck. “My girl’s so good for me, yeah?”

You’re unable to answer, though you don’t know if you’re supposed to. His hands move from your hips to your backside, grinding you against his length. You gasp, grasping his shoulders for stability as he sucks on your neck.

“Gotta mark you up, baby.” He speaks against your skin. He sucks your skin harshly, biting and nipping different areas of your neck. It’s a sensation you’ve never experienced, all your senses heightened at the knowledge that it’s him who’s touching you. “Show them who you belong to, show them you’re mine.”

“Please!” You whine, arching your back into him as he bites down, hard, on the juncture of your neck. You feel him smile against your skin, kissing over the bite. He begins to lower himself down your body, kissing down the valley of your breasts over your top. He pushes your shirt up as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your stomach. 

“Maybe I’ll carve my name right here, yeah?” He questions, lips against your hip. “You can do the same to me.”

When his eyes flicker up to yours, you feel your breath catch in your throat. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, every silly little fantasy you’ve ever had come true. “You’d want that? My name?”

“Fuck, of course, I would.” He groans, pushing himself back up to eye level with you. His hands rest on the mattress on each side of your head, his eyes searching your face. “Want you all over me. I want you forever.”

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him down to you in a bruising kiss. Pushing at his chest, you hook your leg around his waist to switch positions, straddling his lap as your tongue swirls in his mouth. You pull away to look at him, his eyes blown wide with need. He’s so fucking beautiful. You want him forever, too.

You rise to a sitting position, Dabi’s hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as you stare down at him. You push his shirt up and he pulls it over his head in seconds. You run your hands over his chest and abdomen, feeling his scars and the staples that hold him together under your fingertips. 

“I think I wanna mark you too.” You speak, leaning down to kiss him again. “Want you to be mine.”

“I am yours.” He speaks without hesitation. He sucks in a harsh breath when your lips meet the unscarred skin of the left side of his chest. You place soft kisses there before biting down. He cries out, bucking his hips up into yours. “I’ll give you–fuck–everything.”

You continue to leave marks over his skin, satisfied with the noises you're pulling from Dabi. You run your fingers over his hips lightly. You think you would like your name there. Dabi takes the hem of your shirt between his fingers, urging you to pull the fabric from your body. He rises from his position on the bed, running a hand up the length of your spine as he pulls you close. He kisses you once more, moving his hands to your hips to help you grind down on him. 

Pulling away, he trails his lips down your neck, burying his face in your chest. He wraps his lips around your nipple, tweaking the other between his fingers as he looks up at you. You cry out, rapidly grinding against him. He continues to play with your chest, kissing you with fervor and groaning into your mouth. 

“C’mere.” He speaks against your lips, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving to lay you down on the bed. He hovers over you, slowly pushing his hips against yours in a way that makes you cry out. “Gonna take care of you, okay?”

He slowly makes his way down your body, slipping his fingers underneath the band of your pants and pulling them down along with your underwear. You push your knees together, staring up at him as shakes his head. 

“Don’t hide.” He commands softly, pulling your thighs apart. His tongue peaks through his lips for a moment before he speaks again. “Been thinking about this since that night. M’sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to slam the door.”

He runs his hands up your thighs, eyeing your sex as he lowers himself back down. You let out a breathy laugh, “you didn’t?”

“No.” He chuckles against the inside of your thigh, kissing your skin. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, my god.” You giggle, cut off by the feeling of his teeth sinking into your thigh. You gasp, trying to pull away, but his grip on you is tight. He kisses over the mark, eyes finding yours with a warning. 

He licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, and you throw your head back, resting your hand on top of his head before he pulls back. 

“Look at me.” He speaks, bringing one hand up to run a finger through your folds. You’re already a complete mess, and he feels pride in knowing he’s the reason. He’s always the reason. “Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You nod, wiggling your hips to urge him to continue. He chuckles softly at your desperation before burying his face between your legs again. His tongue runs along your folds in long slow strokes, your hips jolting at the stimulation. No research, or video, or fantasy you had about the man between your legs could have ever prepared you for what this feels like. 

Your moans spur him on as he tastes you, the knowledge that he’s the reason for your pleasure more rewarding than anything else. He wraps his lips around your clit and you cry his name. You feel your orgasm building as he continues to lap up your juices, his grip on your thighs tight as he holds you open for him. 

“Dabi! Dabi! I’m–” you let out a strangled moan as you grind your hips against his tongue, “fuck–coming! I’m coming.”

Your hips jolt at the pleasure, the feeling of his mouth still on your sex guiding you through your orgasm. He slows his strokes, running the flat of his tongue against you as you calm yourself. The movement of your hips slow as you watch Dabi still buried between your legs. You catch your breath as he tongues your cunt, cerulean eyes staring up at you as you twitch from the overstimulation. He pulls away from your sex with a wet smack, rising to capture your lips with his. 

He pulls away, “call me Touya.”

“Huh?” You ask, chasing his lips again. He kisses you slow and deep, his tongue swirling against yours as he pushes his hips against yours. You groan against his mouth.

“Touya. It’s my name.” He says, placing soft kisses against your jaw. “My real name.”

Touya. His name is Touya. You know Dabi’s real name. You get to say his real name, keep that knowledge locked inside of your heart, a secret between the two of you. The reveal makes you feel closer to him, an equal exchange for all of the time he spent inside of your home without your knowledge, though you know it’s really not. You’ll take it, anyways.

“Where’d you go, baby?” He whispers against your lips. “Did the obsessed little freak inside you get excited?”

“Says you.” You scoff. 

“Made for each other, right?” He speaks before kissing you again. The kiss is hungry, frantic as his lips consume yours. He fumbles with the studded belt around his waist, pulling away from you only to rid himself of his jeans. 

His cock is hard against your entrance, the warmth of him overwhelming as he shifts his hips over yours. He runs his hands up the outside of your thighs, rough hands smoothing over your flesh while he kisses you again. You whimper against his lips, a silent plea for him to do more than grind against you. 

“Shhh, let me–wanna remember this.” He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, running the head through your folds as you try to keep your breathing steady. “Gonna take my time with you.”

Touya leans down to kiss your neck, sucking over the already tender marks he left before, hoping to keep them there for longer, the evidence of him on your skin in the ache he leaves behind. You pant as he continues to grind his hips against yours, arching your back and pushing yourself closer to him as he continues his assault on your neck. Pulling away, he lines himself up with your entrance, staring down at you just inches away from your face. 

“Kiss me.” He speaks. “Kiss me, please.”

When you kiss him, he sinks into you, swallowing your moans with his lips and slipping his tongue into your mouth as he stretches you. You catch your breath as he pulls away, adjusting to the size of him as he slowly pumps in and out of you. 

“Touya.” You breathe, your hands running through his hair as he pushes into you deeper. A contented smile falls across his face as he feels you move your hips against his. “Feels–mm–good.”

“Yeah? Good. S’all I want. Just want you to feel good.” He says as his hips slowly begin to change pace. Maybe it’s the fact he spent weeks scaring you into delusion, or the fact that he can’t get the way you look when you come out of his head, but your pleasure has become his ultimate goal. He wants to watch you come undone again and again on his cock, disregarding his own needs as you're pushed over the edge over and over. He thinks he’d like you to use him, but for now, Touya wants to take care of you. 

He speeds his pace up, gripping your hips in his rough hands as he pounds into you. He’s getting carried away, you realize, as his hold becomes bruising, his kiss, starved. It all feels so good with his hands all over you and his lips so desperate. He needs you and he doesn’t hide it, and with every action, Touya shows you just how much.

“It’s so much! Too much!” Not enough, you think. You cry out as he presses into you deep, pushing in and out of you with long slow strokes, his cock hitting just the spot that has you seeing stars. He groans, feeling you clench around him as he moves. 

“Take it.” He commands, thrusting into you. “I know you can. You’re so–fuck–good for me.”

You whine, arching into him and pulling him down for another sloppy kiss. He can’t get enough of you, and you’re completely his. He’ll keep you. He’ll take you with him, make a little villain out of you, keep you nice and fucked out on his cock forever. All of his plans, his goals, the one thing he’s worked toward since becoming Dabi, now include you. You have a real role in his life, one that’s meant to stay, one that means forever. 

You’re close. He can tell, and he feels himself being brought to the edge just as quickly as you are. His pace quickens as he thrusts in and out of you, bringing one hand to your lips, feeling you suck two fingers into your mouth before he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. You gasp, burying your face in his neck and biting down. You’ve drawn blood, Touya thinks, feeling the pain spread from the wound. He groans, thrusting harder and faster.

“Fuck, s-sorry!” You cry, though your words are hurried and jumbled.

“Don’t apologize, baby.” He tells you, panting above you. He runs his thumb against your bottom lip, a faint trace of blood smeared across the inside. He smiles, kissing you and reveling in the faint taste of copper. “You wanted to mark me.”

“Touya, I’m–hah–gonna come!” You cry, moving your hips against his frantically. 

“I know, I know.” He coos, swiping his fingers over your puffy clit. “Come for me. Wanna see it.”

Your voice comes out loud and chokes, the end of his name dying on your lips as your hips jolt from the pleasure and your back arches against your sheets. Touya doesn’t stop thrusting, chasing his own orgasm as he watches your face contort in the same way it had before.

“Need to fill you up. Need to make you mine.” He groans, thrusting quickly. 

“I’m yours, I’m yours. Please! I wanna feel it!” You whine. You feel him spill inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he slows his pace. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him against you. He kisses you again, tongues swirling against each other as he stills on top of you. 

“Stay.” You breathe, pulling away from his lips and feeling his head fall against you. 

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” He whispers through labored breath. “So don’t try.”

“Never. You said you’d keep me.” You remind him, feeling him smile against your skin. He rises from where he lays, staring down at you with nothing but adoration. You really are made for him. Cosmic love, divine intervention, soulmates. Touya should have known.

“Always.” He kisses your lips, your nose, both of your cheeks. 

“Say it.” You command softly. 

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do. 

[tamtuliko]

Tyme, dear, revenger Tyme.

As we are heading to the end, we must talk about Tyme. Now that we saw the real timeline and have a prove how messed and fucked up Great is, we must take a look in Tyme's life.

Look, I'm not saying that Great is a bad person, he is not, he is broken, neglected, lost child who has problems with his emotions, he is rich kid whose family members are assholes and his choice of friends need to be questioned, but again Rich, spoiled kids are sticking together right? Title is rich, spoiled, wicked as well, killed his classmate, locked his girlfriend, and I don't think that it's his first time, as well as Great's. They have done many bad things, but remember what Tyme said: depends on how rich you are, you can get away even with murdering someone, even if it was an accident. So, no, guys, Great is not good or bad, Great is a tragic child.

But I want to talk about Tyme. Let's see what we have:

•dead perents

•grandmother with whom he has strong bond

•Girlfriend - ex, but they've been together pretty long, right? She said Tyme had changed in the last two years.

•friend - s.

My wild guess is that, two years ago, before the real-time line, Tyme found out how his parents were killed, finding the diary his mother wrote. We have seen pictures of him and his mother, alive, innocent, and happy. I think even after his parents' death, he and his grandmother were happy. The old lady did say that she wanted to see Happy Tyme again, that he was happy before. Even if they didn't have money, they still had each other, Tyme was getting his doctor degree, he had a strong relationship with a beautiful girl and had friends. So Tyme was happy, he was not alone. Until he finds the diary and all the hell breaks. I guess he started his search and planned the revenge. With this, he lost interest in other things. His happiness was lost, and his whole life became an idea of revenge.

This is the Tyme me meet. We have not seen happy, carefree, having girlfriend Tyme. We see anger, no emotional strings, cold Tyme, the one who has no interest in his girlfriend, she broke up, and he was standing drinking coffee.

I mean, look at him ,he gives no fuck.

And then an opportunity, a golden one appears in front of him, kind of God itself send him gift. BTW this is the gift:

Fucked up son of his enemy. And the whole plan was born in his pretty head. Let's seduce, fuck him, film it and put it out on porn site. Tyme, darling you said you did your search about Great, tf you thought he would care about anything. Here is Tymes first mistake. He doesn't get Great at all. He doesn't know how wicked this kid was. But he learned.

And Tyme went and forgot all human side of himself. Went straight to Great and seduce him (btw his pick-up lines in every timeline are garbage, dude seriously🤣)

So they fucked, and the way it was shown, we can see that even it is for revenge, they both very much enjoy it. If Tyme didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't be caressing Great's body. It's a simple anatomy. If you don't like or feel anything towards someone, you won't get a turn-on. What we saw is that both of them are turned on beyond belief. They fuck (not make love, like Great's timeline). Tyme filmed it and here, he had second thoughts about posting it. We see how he is fighting to himself and the morals he once had. But then he sees the photograph, bright, alive, happy, and he goes with his revenge.

And here he miscalculated another thing again, Great, who he thought, will never appear in front of him appears and chases after him, like lost puppy/kitten , he is.

See Tyme ignored Great with not answering him, but Great, the brat he is goes after him. I guess that D was good, but he is intrigued. Someone was able to stand up his father. Even his mom, Korn they obey his father, but we've got Tyme who did something crazy and Great is interested. Again, it doesn't make him a good person. So they go on dinner, and here Tyme sees it, understands it: he was wrong about Great. Look at his face:

The disbelief in his eyes. He is like wtf kid.

Tyme, with all his glory plan, understands the small mistake: Great can't be controlled, can't be used, because he doesn't care. And he understands the tragedy of this child, because he is child, he was brave to come and find Tyme, when he was told to go home if he doesn't want to eat in cheap place, he didn't, he said that he will eat, he cant even eat spicy food and yet, just to be near Tyme, to have more time with him, Great choose to eat it. This is a child who doesn't want to be left alone, who is lonely and doesn't know how to be a normal human being, cause around him there are no people with morals.

And Tyme does what Tyme can do, leaves Great, cause he can't be responsible for Great, he can't deal with Great, for Great it is a game, for Tyme it is revenge and his life on line. Nans life, his grandmother's life. For Great: just a game, where he will enjoy a good fuck and make his dads life miserable, but the same the cure of his loneliness.

So Tyme leaves. Without looking back.

See, Tyme is not a good person, but again, he is not bad either. Tyme is also a very tragic character, a person who couldn't move on. He is supposed to be a doctor, saving life, and must have morals. Yet we have a doctor, with not many emotions, trying to be a doctor for money, and not happy at all. The irony, right? He must be saving life's, instead he is losing one's.

Tyme is tragic because he can't save Nan, and he does blame himself, but all anger he takes out on Great. And yes, Great could've saved Nan, but he is a coward and didn't, but Great saved Tyme. Because he is genuinely interested in Tyme, he is emotionally connected (onesided) with him. So he couldn't stand Tymes' death. We saw that he had no problems with other people dying. He developed feelings, and Tyme might be bad with plans, but I think he knows about Greats one-sided interest in him (not love).

Here is one thing I liked in Tyme, instead of using that one-sided interest, he did one right thing, showed Great his own cowardence. Told him how weak he is. They said awful things to each other. Great telling Tyme to go die, Tyme telling Great that he deserves to go to hell.

See, they are not good at all, but they are not bad either.

The society they live in is garbage. And they are tragic characters who could've saved each other. Instead, they will be the end of each other.

I don't know what can be more tragic than this.

Two souls, trying their hard to live, but....

Well, they are gonna die, there is no doubt. I just hope they can find their ways to each other, forgive each other. In the end, we are all humans. We can learn on our own mistakes. And try and live our life without regrets. There might be no second chance.

We are still going to see Tymes regrets, his and Greats cardiac arrest is going same time, so they are gonna meet again, they are going to have their own 4 minutes, and one of them will be saved and another will die, or both of them will be dying moving to another life. My brain is on 🔥.

My bet is on Tymes' death. He did see door opening and light. Typical afterlife entrance. But again, this drama is not a typical one, so two more weeks...

P.S

They are giving me butterflies 🦋

[en-vys]

xiao - ciao, xiao! .~+*+~.

summary : what happens when you aren’t around when xiao’s heat strikes? what do you imagine he’ll do… and the lengths he’ll take just to feel better.

content & warning : masturbation, pillow humping, needy!xiao, needy, dirty dreams, FEMreader -sorry- ,

a/n : THIS ISNT THE ANGST ⚠️ i spelled xiao as ciao awhile ago so i thought about it as a title and thought of a category and context 😭

“XIAO! i’m gonna leave soon. ms. ningguang is going to be here soon to pick me up.” you yell to the adeptus, whom was upstairs sobbing. you jogged up the stairs to see why he wasn’t responding. “alatus? sweetie? wher-” you hear hiccuping in your shared room. “oh my. alatus why are you crying?” you ask pulling xiao towards you, hugging his crawled up form. “i could always canc-” “no! y-you don’t have to. its an important c-con °hiccup convention! you need to go.”

“y’know it’s okay to miss me right? i’m not telling you to conceal your feelings.” stroking the back of his head. “my love. i know you need to go.” you felt bad for leaving. especially with his heat coming up. “you know what week it is right?” he asks his eyes shining a wonderful green hue. “yeah it’s your heat week. i’m sorry i can’t help you out xiao.” he wipes his tears away. “the reason i was crying wasn’t that you were leaving. but that you were going to leave me during my heat week.”

“oh you sly bitch.” he smirks, you know what hes going to say next. “yeah. but i’m your bitch aren’t I~ 💗” he cocked his head sideways, moving in slowly for a kiss. you immediately moved just to tease him, and earned a small whine from him.

now after you left xiao felt a bit untouched… i mean you did leave him without fucking the poor guy. “hnhgg y/nnn~” he moaned as he palmed himself through his airy pants.

needy!xiao / was desperate by nightfall. he dug through the hamper for your dirty underwear just to smell and feel you, but to his suprise. you did the laundry.

needy!xiao / scrambled through his phone to find a sultry photo he was allowed to take during one of the many sessions the two of you had.

needy!xiao / couldn’t even find sweet release after hours of humping the pillow that smelt the most like you.

needy!xiao / forgot all about the emergency disk that held numerous voicelines of you moaning his name, or calling him a good boy, or degrading him.

needy!xiao / only felt release when he thought he had heard your voice but it was just scaramouche entering the door using a recording he had to spook him.

needy!xiao / wasn’t even aware scara had come to check up on him til he heard a shutter click, and he turned around to see a snickering scara.

———————

“DAMN. she has you wrapped around her finger.” scara snickers, sending the picture of xiao collapsed on the bed panting. cum dripping everywhere on the bed sheets. “you’re even wearing a collar? whats the name tag say? “y/n’s bitch” or “needy whore”.” once his heat was over xiao was going to beat the living hell out of scara and make him buy a new phone. “d-delete that.” xiao muttered. “yeah no worries. y/n asked me to check up on you and send her picture of what you were doing.” xiao heard the click of the door, meaning scara was gone.

———————

tired!xiao / still feels horny so he tries to muster up the courage to rub himself through his pants.

tired!xiao / was ecstatic to find out that you were going home in 2 days. he couldn’t wait to fuck your brains out.

tired!xiao / tried going to sleep but failed as his dick twitched in his pants again.

tired!xiao / lazily strokes himself while being half asleep. imagining you kitten licking and edging the poor guy.

———————

“MMMMMHAAG. i n-need. you y/nnn.” he says speaking into the mic of his phone. “i c-can’t cum without you.. scara made me think you came home early and made me cum by accident :(”

poor baby. you think “i know. he sent me a picture of you with cum all over the sheets and yourself.” yeah stifle a laugh. “don’t laugh!” xiao continues rubbing himself, whining into his phone. “i want to see you y/nnn!” he sounds like hes going to burst.

“did you not listen or watch the tapes in the disk i gave you alatus?” his ears turn red. “t-they don’t work… i need you.”

———————

lol this is half of a past post. :0

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my friend's husband to stop claiming he had a mental illness for his own benefit?

I know the title really makes it sound bad, and maybe it is because I'm actually conflicted now.

I (26f), Grace (27f), and Will (26m) are the key players to the story. They had a baby almost a year ago, and I love her. I am the best unofficial aunt and official godparent- but that is neither here nor there.

I have stayed at their place before and I also have been at hotels, if I stay at their place I try to pay them and they decline. This last time I visited, I stayed at their place because Will wanted to take Grace on a date and get a hotel somewhere so I would watch the baby.

However, Will has just increasingly pissed me off claiming he has OCD and needs to be accommodated. I helped fold laundry, he told me it wasn't right and redid everything I did that was his- fine, we all fold things differently.

Grace pulled me into their bedroom one time to have a private and intense conversation that last over an hour and I sat on his side of the bed. He stripped the bed and put new sheets on and then yelled at Grace for allowing that as "my germs" were covering the bed. Grace felt bad because she didn't know he would care, I felt upset he yelled at her since he had never communicated with her, nor would I have done that if I had known.

Grace has movies displayed alphabetically, and it has ALWAYS been this way every time I have been over. Baby grabbed the shelf and they fell. I fixed the shelf, and put them all back. Will came in the room, saw it, became upset and claimed I was doing it wrong and effecting his OCD. He changed it to genre's, which is fine but it has never been that way. He claimed it had and I was mistaken.

Couldn't change the Baby's diaper because "what if fecal germs get on me?" He has gotten mad at Grace for not cleaning the right way, always falling back on germs being his big "issue" in OCD.

But I've never seen him actually have a compulsion? I have anxiety that can be debilitating at times... for example i have to lock my door 4 times each night for me to feel safe. I have a specific routine I do before bed and if I dont I panic. I got in a wreck two months ago, and now I can't drive that route. Maybe I have OCD maybe not, I know I have anxiety though.

But then Will goes and claims to have OCD and does...nothing. It feels really random to me?? Says his big issue is germs, yet can handle when the cat pees on the floor and can handle cat litter. Got a second cat, a kitten, who is still learning the litter box and does not care one bit and cleans it up.

Will's friend got drunk and laid down on his bed. Will laughed at how drunk he was and helped him stay in the guest room. Went to bed almost 15 minutes later and never changed the sheets or anything like he did when I sat there.

Has shared water bottles with friends (Grace would make sense, they literally had a kid together). He has dropped food on the floor then ate it. Will has made fun of Grace when she cooks, because she has to have steak well done because she got food poisoning one time and has been afraid since, which he knows, but wants his steak rare.

Anyways, I feel he is lying about OCD and using it to justify his actions which pisses me off. Grace has called him out for the double standard before. Grace has also tried to encourage him to get therapy, which he refuses. Grace does give him well grace when he does seem to be anxious to do something (like the movies, she shrugged it off and said if it makes him feel better sure).

The final straw was they were at MY place this past weekend, and I noticed how he kept staring at my pictures hanging on the wall. I already had a terrible day and was on edge, which they both knew.. He ignored our conversation and got up and took down a picture. I asked him what he was doing. He said his "OCD is acting up" because it wasn't in line with the rest of the pictures. I said it was a design choice (for a mental image, imagine three pictures in a row, picture one and picture three are the same shape and size hung at exactly the same level, while picture two is hung above that level somewhat, so it kind of looks like "^" with the points being the pictures, but the middle is not as pronounced). Will told me I was a terrible interior designer.

I'll admit, I saw red because it felt like he just wanted to have a chance to insult me. I told him he was a dick and using mental illness as an excuse to be one. I told him that if his OCD is that debilitating to go to therapy, but it seemed to me he was an asshole just trying to use it to justify his actions. He called me an asshole and a bigot and looked to Grace for comfort. Grace said that Will had no say in my design choices, but that I could have found a better way to tell him. Will didnt like that answer and stormed out and left my house.

Grace is now being told by Will to drop me as a friend. She won't. It is causing me a lot of anxiety because I know it is causing a lot of stress in their marriage and I don't want to be the cause of it. Will is adamant I apologize while I am adamant that he should apologize to me. i would be willing to apologize for what i said if he would apologize for trying to change my house, but he says i "dont understand OCD". AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[butchboyvi]

song lyrics that remind me of vi and her story 🥊

i wanted to include song that i think could depict her emotions, especially her pitfighter arc in s2. most of these are indie rock/alt rock/post rock songs + some ambient folk, all with very gritty and emotional lyrics. i tried to think of songs that could encapsulate the feeling of despair and loneliness shown in the “nothing to lose” clip with my own personal twist i guess. also i had in mind the latest christian linke interview, where he said that we're going to see a very different version of caitlynn, stripped down of her optimism and hopefulness, and that vi is not going to recognize her anymore, and everything that this is going to entail in their relationship.

shadowboxing - julien baker

i know you were trying to help / but you're only making it worse / tell me that i shouldn't blame myself / but you can't even imagine how badly it hurts / just to think sometimes / how i think almost all the time

so break me down / fold it over your arms / like an unloaded shotgun / dismantled and harmless / even you couldn't manage to pull / the fuse from the back of my head

work out - rainbow kitten surprise

well, there's two sides to a fair fight / and you're the third man out / i was hopeful with a slow hand / and i got gunned down / well you asked me if i could grow up / but i don't know why / for i don't know much, i'm a palm frond / dying on a front porch

sour breath - julien baker

but i shouldn't have built a house in the middle of your chest / plywood boards joined at your breast / splinter in my arm where you rest your head / checking my watch till you come to bed

kiss me goodnight with your sour breath / breaks on my face like a wave of emptiness / and when i talk just taste regret / you're everything i want and i'm all you dread

ringside - julien baker

beat myself until i'm bloody / and i’ll give you a ringside seat / you say that it's embarrassing / i’m sorry that you had to see me like that

so you could either watch me drown / or try to save me while i drag you down / want to fix it but i don't know how

bloodshot - julien baker

middle of the night, all i can see are stars / pulled 'em from my eyes and your ex-lover's arms / throw hook after hook, and if i were you / after all that i did, i'd have done it to me, too

isn't like i did it on purpose / i just forget the second i learned it / everything i get, i deserve / you whisper to me, "don't you like it when it hurts?"

lefty - title fight

bad luck never leaves / your jinx just floats around / like the taste inside your mouth / or the sound when your skull cracks / feel the growing pains / it means you're growing up too fast

sleeping with the lights on - searows

we've been watching different movies / and i've been talking to myself / i’d like to think that you knew me / better than anybody else

i know you're probably standing there / wishing that i wasn't here / you know i'd follow you anywhere / so, do you honestly believe that i would let you disappear?

appointments - julien baker

i think if i ruin this / that i know i can live with it / nothing turns out like i pictured it / maybe the emptiness is just a lesson in canvases / i think if i fail again / that i know you're still listening / maybe it's all gonna turn out alright

good news - julien baker

in the thin air, my ribs creak / like wooden dining chairs when you see me / always scared that every situation ends the same / with a blank stare / me and the tap water circling the sink drain

callous - sasami

i know it's not your fault / you were born with a spoon in your throat / and a gun in your hand and a plan for yourself / i'm not grieving / it's just a matter of time and a matter of what / and you've known since birth what you like / and i'm happy for you until my face is blue

perfecto miserable - king krule

i guess i have to go / and in my silence / it's so menacing / and when i'm left alone / it's so damaging / and in this violence / the walls cave-in / i'm not able to escape it all

cold love - rainbow kitten surprise

chained to a lie, we're the same you and i, we're the same / not the same we hurt differently, but consistent in our pain / equal and equidistant in the way we laugh / to lay bear the weight of our cold love affair / recalling the days where we were, we weren't, we were

putting the dog to sleep - the antlers

unstitch that shit i've sewn / to close up the hole that tore through my skin / well, my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg / tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in

black dog - arlo parks

i'd lick the grief right off your lips / sometimes it seems like you won't survive this / and honestly it's terrifying

famous last words - ethel cain

my lips are still burnt from kissing your face / and feverish forehead, the blood that you waste / i'm tired of this, watching it wash out of you

cementality - king krule

enter my bed through that window / i hit zero / as guiltless loveless sins flow / through me, you threw me / i descend smoothly / my concrete bed beckons / can you hear me?

out getting ribs - king krule

and lay me out across the grey / hours i should have kept at bay / well i had no chance to get away / i can't escape my own escape / even more when it's sweet to the taste / red stairs lead sense astray / i look up and seek for faith

is it really you? - loathe

face away / deal with the pain / your own way / how could they deal with the pain? / i knew / that it was mine too / and you? / is it really you?

baldpate driver - fleshwater

and a year goes by / just as silent as a tear on a face you hide / keep chasing heaven / i'm begging for the ending

nightmares - newdad

i wish you were everything i hate in the world / not the best person in it / don't want to love 'cause then i'll misbehave / don't want to think of you and feel safe / don't want to drown if there's another way / so at the end of the day / i hope you're in my nightmares / 'cause to dream of you is unfair

to rage - daughter

i left the room destroyed / oh, you know me in more ways than that / i split the walls for warmth, i shook your town / i smashed the floors / to rage, my love, back then / well, someone had to

i'd never loved a living thing so much / i was not equipped to just / sit and watch you quit on us

[storytowrite]

|You will always be mine ~ Lee Minho series|

PART 9

Paring: Minho x Y/N

Genre: smut, angst, university au

Word count: 1705

Warnings: sex, 18+, Minho is a psycho, dom!Minho, sub!reader, abuse, slight BDSM, kidnapping, violence, age gap, Minho is an university professor, Y/N can be hurt physically (and mentally too I guess).

Synopsis: Who knew that accidental fuck in the club bathroom with a handsome man will bring you to a lot of unexpected events.

Author's note: I kept this series for a really long time not sure if I want to post it or not, but I decided to do it anyway, so I hope you'll like it.

——————————

You ate dinner in silence. You sank into your thoughts. You thought about Lisa, about the pictures, about Jeno, about the university, generally about everything. You didn't even listen to what Minho was talking to you about. 

“Hello. Earth to Y/N... Can you hear me?” The man asked. 

“Hm? Ah, yes, yes... Forgive me Minho. I was just thinking.” You replied and smiled apologetically at him. 

“Mhm... I noticed.” He muttered, not entirely satisfied with your answer. “I asked if you liked it?”

“Yes.” You replied with a smile. “It's mega delicious, you cook very well.”

“Thank you kitten. Would you like to watch a movie?” He asked, picking up the dirty dishes. 

“And what kind?” You became interested. 

“Go to the living room and choose something.” He instructed you and went to wash up. 

You immediately went to the room, where you sat down on the black leather couch and took the TV remote control in your hand. You started looking for interesting movies, casually checking what movies Minho had watched recently to get a sense of what he liked. 

It turned out that Minho watches everything. Starting with action movies, or horror movies, and ending with romances, or fairy tales. You sighed quietly and turned on the first better romance. You didn't really feel like watching anything that much. You would honestly rather go to bed. 

Minho came to you after a short while. He sat down next to you on the couch and embraced you lightly. His hand rested on your shoulder. He kissed your cheek and pulled you tighter to him. You leaned against him. 

“ So, have you decided what we're watching, kitten?” Minho asked. 

“‘”Oh, I don't know... Some kind of romance, I didn't check the title.“’” You replied. “I think I'm tired, Minho... and I don't want to watch the movie too much. I would like to lay down...”

“Ah, too bad.” He said very unhappy. “I thought we would have a pleasant night after the movie.” Saying this, he began to glide his hand over your shoulder. “In the end, we didn't finish our fun in the car,” he said.

“Because you thought I was being naughty Min... Besides, I don't feel like it.” 

“Maybe you don't, but I do.” He replied a little more sharply than he intended. You looked at him slightly puzzled. 

“And what are you going to do, force me?” 

“No...” He sighed quietly. “You know very well that I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want...” He didn't sound very convincing. His behavior was strange to say the least. “Go and lie down Y/N, I'll come over later.”

“Sure, good night Minho...” You said and kissed him on the cheek, then disappeared into the bedroom, where you changed into pajamas and lay down on the bed. 

Sleep, however, did not come easily. You began to sink into thought again. You didn't like the man's behavior. More and more, you began to wonder about him and what the two of you had in common. But did it really connect? Or were you just a toy for him to use whenever he felt like it? He was ceasing to like the arrangement you had entered into. You sighed quietly. If it continues like this, then, I'll end it, you decided in your mind, then fell asleep. 

The next day you woke up quite sleepy. You glanced at your watch again. It was nine o'clock. The lecture you should have attended had already been going on for an hour and a half. The plus side was that the lecturer in charge was Minho, so he would rather forgive your absence. 

You got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Minho left you breakfast on the table. You smiled slightly. The man really cooked well. You sat down at the table and started eating. The apartment was quiet, far too quiet. You decided to turn on the TV, you just happened to come across a news channel. 

This morning, a woman's body was found near the ponds. The woman was probably raped, and then the perpetrator must have carried out the murder, by strangulation, probably done with a rope or thin line. Investigators are looking into the circumstances of the incident.  

You gasped. The moment the camera caught the woman's corpse, before the TV had time to blur it out, you noticed a piece of clothing belonging to the dead. Red material was wrapping the woman's body. It was probably a dress. The news did not give the name of the deceased, but you had a feeling you knew her. 

Terrified, you put your uneaten breakfast aside. You began to fear that the perpetrator might have been Minho. After all, he himself had said he would take care of Rheena. What if it was her? You didn't really know the woman. Aside from one unpleasant interaction, you had nothing in common, but the thought that Rheena could have ended up like this made you shudder. 

But what if it was just a figment of your imagination? What if it wasn't Rheena, but some random woman? You began to think about this intensely. Should you ask Minho about it? But do you have reason to believe that Minho did it? After all, he cared about you and wouldn't hurt anyone, right? No, it's probably just a coincidence, and you're imagining too much. 

You sighed quietly and went to the bathroom to wash your face. You rinsed yourself with cold water, hoping to soothe your thoughts at least a little, but it didn't help. You decided to take a cold shower. You stripped off your short nightgown and entered the cabin. You stood under the shower and turned on the water. You didn't know how long you had been there. How much time had passed? 

Suddenly, immersed in your thoughts, you felt someone's arms wrap around your waist. You let out a scream, pulling yourself out of your musings. You felt strong hands glide over your body.

“Shh...” You heard a familiar voice over your ear. “It's okay, kitten, there's no need to shout.” Minho said in a quiet, soothing tone. You calmed down slightly. When did he manage to return? You didn't even hear him come in. 

Minho's hands glided over your body. He gently brushed every scrap, staggering circles with his thumbs on your bare skin. He moved one hand to your breast and gently began kneading it. The other hand, meanwhile, moved across your body and landed between your legs. Minho hooked the most sensitive spot on your body. You felt his finger slide inside you and gently begin to move. Your body responded to his every touch. You let out a quiet moan of pleasure and leaned your head against his shoulder. This gave the man easier access to your neck, on which he began to place wet kisses. 

You began to melt under his touch. You closed your eyes slightly, forgetting everything you were thinking about before. You let yourself be carried away by the pleasure that was building more and more strongly in your body. The sounds you made from yourself were getting louder and louder. Minho brought you to the edge. His thumb found its way to your button, and his finger began to move decidedly faster. You were already about to reach orgasm when he suddenly stopped. He took his hand away and stepped back slightly. You looked at him with a questioning, slightly hazy gaze.

“Lean your hands against the wall, kitten,” he said. The man said firmly. “And gently push yourself out toward me.”

You obeyed him. With your hands, you leaned against the wet tiles and pushed out slightly, exposing your buttocks. Minho smiled slightly. You felt a gentle slap on your bottom. The one. The second. The third. 

You received a total of ten spankings, five on each buttock. Your bottom turned mildly red. However, you didn't mind. The excitement that gripped you did not allow you to make any protests. Minho massaged both of your buttocks gently. He moved closer to your body, rubbing his manhood against your feminine parts. After a while, before you had time to say anything, you felt his presence inside you. 

He began to move inside your female parts, setting a pace that was not too fast. Your breathing sped up. You began to make loud moans from yourself. With each moan, the man's movements accelerated. His hands held your hips. He drove his fingers hard into your naked body. He brought you to the edge. You let out a loud, prolonged moan, reaching orgasm. 

You rested your forehead against the cold tiles. You normalized your breathing. The unexpected sex gave you an incredible sensation. You continued to feel Minho's presence inside you, who now embraced you tighter from behind. 

“The whole lecture today I was thinking about you, you know?” He whispered in your ear while gently biting the petal of it. “You weren't in my lecture, and I still couldn't concentrate. What are you doing to me Y/N? You're driving me crazy.”

The man finally slid out of you and moved slightly away from you, but still embraced you. You turned to face him and hugged him, hiding your face in the hollow of his neck. The water from the shower ran down your naked bodies, and you persisted in the embrace. 

Finally, you decided to leave the bathroom. Minho helped you out of the cabin and handed you a bathrobe. He threw a second one over himself. You smiled slightly at him, and he just wanted to watch that smile forever more. 

“What do you want to do now?” The man asked, but before you had time to answer, you heard the doorbell ring. “Wait, let me see what this is about...”

Minho walked to the door and opened it. Behind the door stood two other men in police uniforms. Minho raised one eyebrow slightly.

“Yes? Can I help you gentlemen?” He asked, raising his eyebrow slightly. 

“Senior Sergeant Christopher Bang and Junior Sergeant Lee YongBok.” Said one of them. “Lee Minho? We have some questions, can we come in?” 

——————————

<- Part 8 | Part 10 ->

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Taglist: @yaorzu-blog, @iovecb97, @hpnsfwaddict, @syedazarintasnim, @palindrome969, @biujulia

[aroiso]

Id: two kittens looking at the camera. The picture is titled with: "3 Gay cat looking at each other" in capital letters. End Id

thank you to @friendofcrowsandcats for the id!