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bunnwich · 5 months ago

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Cinnamon Sugar Kisses🍬(Happy Birthday Leona)

Leona's birthday always finds a way to bring him down, maybe a visit from his favorite creature might lighten the mood.

Characters: Leona Kingscholar x Yuu!Reader (GN. No physical description for Yuu. )

Words: 6k, 3rd person, Leona's POV

Notes: It's long, but I am really proud of this one. Leona is DOWN BAD in this. Deals with themes of depression and slight substance abuse.

Tagging: Moving tags to the comments!

Leona groaned, the sounds of the night an unpleasant cacophony in his ears as his body tangled in the blankets. The clatter of the blinds, the rushing of the waterfall down in the lounge, and the rumbling snores of the other Savanaclaw members. Riddled with envy, a soft growl passed his lips, tendrils of loose hair sticking to the sweat on his face. Climate-controlled; his ass. After stewing a bit longer on these grievances, he finally lamented to his restless mind.

Accepting his fate this evening, he kicked off the covers.

His hand went for the familiar object stashed under his pillow. 11:47. The light of his phone screen seared into his vision. It was too damn early to be having so much trouble already.

Scoffing as he sat up fully, he bent his body over to fumble in the drawer of his nightstand until his fingers wrapped around what he was searching for. A small bottle of prescription pills. Right. He was only supposed to take one a night but, three…three had a much better chance of working.

He hadn’t even really taken them since the tournament, but his mind was on double time tonight to torment him. Leona eyed the clock again as if the inanimate object would care about his ire in the least.

“Hmph.”

11:50.

Soon, another birthday.

He grunted in disgust. The empty family group texts, the gifts he didn’t need and definitely didn’t want. The forced grins of his peers and underclassmen that almost made him sick, all this racket for what? The solemn day of his birth? A whole country holding its breath, only to be immensely disappointed.

A day that arguably shouldn’t have happened. His parents had gotten it right the first time, right? He was well aware of the conditions of his birth…an accident ten years after his brother. He huffed at himself, and the pity party that brewed in his chest. So, what? Lots of people are born by accident.

It’s not that he didn't appreciate it, especially from the cuter underclassmen: Jack, Epel and even Ruggie. The whole Savanaclaw dorm was earnest enough. But…still there would remain that nasty feeling, nagging in his gut that made him wanna skip the whole song and dance altogether.

His heavy eyes fell to the white pills that rolled around in his palm, before tossing one back into his throat, able to convince himself for just one extra. After all, he didn’t wanna be too groggy for the mandatory celebration tomorrow.

He let out a little laugh to himself, the sound resonating off the walls of his room as he dumped the extras back inside the bottle. Cheers, to a life of just…existing, and joy…he had a whole lifetime ahead of him to do it more. He should feel grateful; lucky. But sometimes, it was hard to not sink comfortably into these thoughts of morbid existentialism.

Just as the dry pill rolled down his throat, a few raps sounded off at his door like magic. Fuck. He twisted the cap back on and tossed the bottle under his bed, he didn’t need another scolding from Ruggie. That or the guys were coming to wish him Happy Birthday at midnight again, he wasn’t really in the mood for visitors. “Come in.” He called out to the intruder, voice cracking. “What do you want? I’m-”

When the door finally creaked open his back straightened and a laugh of relief rumbled from his lips. It wasn’t Ruggie or anyone from Savanclaw at all. Leona squinted, the effects of the pill from earlier making the room hazy around their face. He hadn’t even smelled them, that's how out of it he was. He tugged at his shirt to pull it down over his chest, still wearing the same brown tunic of his dorm uniform from earlier. He cleared his throat and smoothed his hair back from his face.

Yuu shrugged at his efforts to preen himself from the doorway, hair sweeping over their face and a loose tee hanging off their frame.

“You.” Leona sounded off suspiciously. It felt like a strange dream but lucky for him, they were real and standing just a few feet away in their nightclothes. He didn't even know what to say. He hadn’t seen them in weeks. He had a strategy, after all, secretly hoping that that stupid little saying might be true.

Distance…something…fonder… Well, it worked for him.

But, from what Ruggie had told him, Yuu was so wrapped up in the VDC rigamarole with Schoenheit, they had little time for much else.

“Hn.” Three whole weeks of constipated feelings died inside his mouth and he grumbled at them. “What are ya doin’ here?” Leona blinked a few times, feeling the heaviness of his eyelids increase more than ever. He hoped his tone sounded better to them.

As usual, they weren't scared off or detoured by his sourness. The little beast only rolled their eyes at him and huffed as if he was inconveniencing them instead. There was that audacity he loved.

Using their back to press the door closed, they finished shaking their head at him and dared to move inside his room. As they approached him near the bed, blue shadows from his potted palms danced over their soft, but stern face. So they intended to stay…at least for a while.

He let out a breath and swung his legs and tail over the side of the bed. All the while, the numbness in his chest began to flutter and unfreeze. Suddenly, he was aware of his heartbeat again.

“Um, it’s your birthday? Duh.” They shrugged and the crinkle of whatever was in their arms made his ears twitch.

He leaned forward to get a better look, rubbing one of his eyes before staring at the bundle in their arms. “Oh, right…” He muttered, acting like he had forgotten, “Though, you're a little early….” He gave them his best smirk, but it took more effort than usual to summon.

Their mouth dropped open as their eyes glanced at the wooden clock on the wall.

11:58.

“Hmph.” This didn’t seem to phase them, propping a hand on their hip. The edge of their oversized shirt lifted to reveal their shorts underneath. “Guess I'll be your first.” They dangled the shiny bundle in the air between them. It was haphazardly covered in iridescent yellow wrapping paper and tied with some twine.

Leona shifted his gaze back to their coy face and he couldn’t help but smile at their usual bull-headed earnestness. He reached over and took the package from both their hands, his knuckles brushing against theirs.

“Mmm, guess so.” He mused at their chosen words and just like that, his heart sped up. So, that thing was still working, they still had him in a vice grip.

His first…

“Your hands are cold. You walk all the way here?” He inquired, running his finger over the small tag that dangled from the top. His name was scrawled in large, irregular handwriting along with a doodle of a frowning lion.

“Yes...how else would I get here?” They asked facetiously, adding an extra softness to their playful words. He could tell they felt sorry for him. Damn, did he look that bad? Despite their apparent pity, their face puckered into a cute little scowl, unable to hide their annoyance any longer. “Come on-” As they shook their head at him. “Just open it, okay?” They chuckled and their nose crinkled.

Leona felt that fatal, bittersweet dip in his stomach that made him ill, and then…everything was fresh again.

Damn, he was pathetic. Leona cleared his throat and unwrapped it slowly, smelling what it was before he saw it.

“Uh, i-it’s not much but…let’s just say, her highness hooked me up.”

He laughed at the mention of his sister-in-law, heart squeezing as he unveiled it in his lap. “Awe.” It was the smallest bag of baobab candy he’d ever fucking seen.

“But you know…I-I paid for it! I insisted, okay?” They tipped their chin in the air indignantly, poking a thumb into their chest. “Your sis, she just showed me the website basically. I ordered it online to be shipped here-” A little huff left Yuu’s mouth as they babbled on, before crossing their arms. “You like it? It’s your favorite, right?”

He looked down at the bag of candy in his lap, it was cute that they remembered cinnamon was his favorite. Just like at Vargus Camp when they sprinkled some over his cup of hot chocolate.

“Yeah.” But, the thought of them working, only to spend money on him, made him feel…sick. But…he knew it made them feel good to do it on their own. It was good for em’ and it was…cute how worked up they were getting. At least, they thought of him.

Leona bit his lip, trying to conceal his smirk. “Thanks, really.” He knew it had to be expensive to get it sent from his country to the college. The fees themselves probably cost double what the damn candy was worth. He bit his tongue and resisted his body’s urge to move closer.

Nah.

Space… Distance, all that shit. That was safer.

“You didn’t have to get me nothing.” He blurted out, halting the thoughts in his head, knowing they understood how much he appreciated them being here. “...But hey…If ya wanna pay tribute to me, I can think of some other ways too.” He jabbed, trying to urge some more fire from them.

Before he could blink they swatted him on the shoulder. “Cut it out…” They hissed, eyes scanning the room. What were they looking for? “Well, you’re welcome.” Their hand lingered on his shoulder instead of pulling away like he thought they might. The warmth of their fingers through his tank top, it’s all he could focus on in his sleepy haze.

Meanwhile, they used their other hand to gesture over to his chess table. “Sooo, since I’m here. I thought maybe we could…play a game?”

He yawned at the mention, pushing some air past his teeth, looking up at them incredulously. “Tch, seriously? Chess at this hour? Ya sure it's not too boring for you?” He probably shouldn’t have added that, but his ego couldn’t help it. “You know…” His eyes drifted to their fingers, now tangled even more in the fabric of his shirt. “...If you wanted something else from me. All you have to do is ask, alright?” He said through a whisper, mesmerized by the subtle movements of their hand.

They seemed to take it better than he thought, brushing him off and still playing with his tunic. “Nope. Just a game, that’s all. “I just mi…uh-” The edge of their pouty lips curled into a smirk as they trailed off.

His ears perked up.

“...Uh, u-unless you're too tired to take me on?“

“Mmm, never.” Leona snapped back, he could see the spark in their eyes. They were much more awake than him. Great Seven, what he would give for a little of that energy. He sighed as he stood slowly, stretching his arms over his head and pulling up his jeans. “Fine, if you have any chance of winning it’s gonna be when I’m dead tired like this, so-”

Their lashes fluttered, a bit of concern flashing in their eyes at his appearance, how noble. “Oh, I mean... You sure you’re up for it…?”

Leona rubbed his face, groaning in defeat. Without saying anything else, he sat down in one of the chairs by his chess table. White side, as always, and the pieces were scattered from a solo game he played earlier. He gestured to the chair across from him. “Just sit down. Come on, I’ll set the board.” --

He observed them intently as they popped another candy in their mouth. Their cheek was pressed against their knees as they eyed him back from across the board. “...What?”

Leona’s chair creaked against the floor as he leaned back some, folding his arms. A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth. “So, what’s the verdict on my candy?”

“Mmm, it’s…not bad.” Their eyes drifted up and their lips pursed thoughtfully, sliding one of their pawns into defense against one of his knights. “Things taste better when they belong to other people you know.”

“Hm.” His smirk grew. “Is that so?” Leona had to admit, they had started out the game pretty strong. Must have absorbed something when he used to lecture them about chess openings. But, now they were falling off, the game sapping them of their vigor. Poor thing, he chuckled to himself hiding his smile as he watched them, watching him.

He knew they were just playing for his sake and he wasn’t sure if he was flattered or not. “My brother hates them.” Leona finally said, making his next move to draw the game out. Couldn’t be helped, he wanted to…look at them a little longer.

“He says they’re...too spicy.” He chewed his lip. “You should taste the real deal though, sometimes the vendors in Sunrise City make ‘em fresh in front of you…”

They rolled their eyes. “Pfft, well maybe he's just got bad taste.” They barely could get the words out, mouth full when they grinned. “That sounds nice.”

Leona shook his head, watching them pop in a few more pieces of the cinnamon candy, the seeds building up in one of their cheeks. “Maybe.” He remarked, his eyes widening as they kept going, stuffing their mouth full. “‘Ey now… You don’t chew the seeds up, remember?” He sighed, holding out his hand for them. “You’re supposed to spit 'em out when you're done.”

They looked at his open hand like he was insane, whites of their eyes visible. “Whaght? I didn’t vanna vee’ rude!”

Leona gestured again for them to spit, moving his open palm closer to their mouth. “And damn near choking to death is where you draw the line on being rude? This ain’t Pomfiore dorm, you can do whatever ya want here. I’ll allow it...as your gracious dorm leader.”

They made a face before spitting the now plain seeds into his palm. “Much obliged, your highness.”

He looked down and shook his head again, smothering the voice that told him to pop one of them in his mouth. Instead, he tossed the seeds in the trash a few feet away, rubbing his hand on his jeans. “Uh, it’s your move.”

Yuu rubbed their face, lids concealing half of their pretty eyes. “O-oh right...” They let out a breath, forehead wrinkling as they made their next move.

Sloppy.

Leona tapped his chin, one side of his mouth going up at their stubbornness to continue. “Hmph.” He could tell how bored they were. He gazed down at the almost clear board and fiddled with his queen piece, reaching behind his neck to rub it. “Thanks, for…coming to’ see me tonight.” He looked at the clock, it was almost 1 in the morning now, “But, ya don’t have to stay if you're tired.” He tilted his head at them.

“Whaaaat? No, I’m not!” They dug their heels into their lie, tugging their sleep shirt over their legs. “Okay…yeah.” They confessed. “I guess this is making me a little tired but-”

Leona’s eyes trailed up the curve of their legs to their conflicted face, still squished against one of their knees. Their gaze bore into him with a rare doe-eyed stare that he was no match for. “...I wanna stay and finish the game. Okay?”

“Fine, then I’ll make this easy for ya.” He smirked, mating them with his queen piece.

Yuu’s reaction was delayed, eyes scanning the board in disbelief. “Damn,” They grimaced. “Hey, I was actually trying there for a minute!” They cried, plopping the bag of candy in the center of the board, knocking over a few pieces. Twisting around, they pulled their phone from a pocket on their shorts. “Mmm, look!” They turned it around. “I’ve been practicing…when I have time. I’ll have you know I’m…uh- number 795 on the Night Raven College Board!”

Leona crossed his arms again, ears shifting toward them. “Hmph. I know, I could tell. You did...good there in the beginning. Just need to work on your midgame and-”

As he was going on they stood, snatching up the candy bag, knocking one of the pieces on the floor. They began pacing around his bed like a kitten looking for a sleeping spot, before plopping down where he had just been tossing and turning an hour ago.

They fiddled with the small bag of candy, before popping a fresh one between their red-stained lips. Laying back against the sheets, their shapely legs crossed as they wiggled their little feet. After a minute, their head slowly turned to him as they sucked on the seeds, the moon outside making all their bare skin glow. “Hm?”

Oh right, he had stopped talking. “Hn, Nevermind.” He grumbled, waving his hand in the air. He stood too, and followed, getting a closer look at the creature who so bravely laid claim to his bed right now. His? Nah, more like a wild little beast passing by. He had always known they weren’t the type to be tamed.

He chuckled as he came up to the side of the bed and looked down at them. “C’mon. Go to sleep now. No need to hang ‘round here for my sake. My birthday’s nothin’ important…I’ll have enough people kissin’ my ass tomorrow and singing my praises. Go back to the Ramshackle where you belong.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Lion.” Their features wrinkled indignantly as they only lifted their head to stuff more candy in their mouth, rolling it around behind their teeth. They flipped over to lay on their belly, kicking pointedly on one of his pillows as they spoke. “Oh, come on,” They propped their head on their elbows to glare at him. “You know you don’t want me to leave.”

“So?” He rolled his eyes, unsure of what game they were playing now. “Ain’t about me.” He snorted and worked his fingers on his temple and at the headache that was building behind his eyes.

“It is…your birthday.” They continued to roll the candy on their tongue and he was close enough to smell their saliva mixed with the cinnamon. “Do you…want me to stay?”

Leona blinked a few times, the purr of their words causing his ears to tingle. The pills were still not helping his twitterpated haze. “Course. Course, I do.” He sat down a safe distance near the end of the bed, still haunted by the sound of the candy in their mouth. “Tch. You should know that.” He turned his back to them.

After a moment, they sighed and crawled toward him. They crept up beside him like a timid little rabbit now, still laying on their belly, breaching his space until their bare arm was touching his. “How have you been?” They asked without missing a beat or lingering on any awkwardness that came before.

He had to laugh. There wasn’t much to tell. “Fine.” He said simply, it wasn’t a lie. “Don’t feel like a complete nuisance lately. And ya know…practice has been going pretty well. Everyone’s all fired up to do better in the summer, of course.” He sighed as his smirk faded.

“That’s good but-” They lifted their brows, a smile tugging at their mouth. “You’re fine?”

“Awe, don’t fret about me now… Wouldn’t say I’m worse. School’s got me in this troublesome therapy program, you know after…everything. So uh, it’s more like: I’m…treading water. Survivin’. I’ll be alright.” He looked away, the end of his tail tapping on the sheets. “Though I gotta say my birthday, you know…the concept of my existence ‘n all: my “place” in the world. All of that, always finds a way of…bringing me down a little.”

He couldn’t see their face but he felt them shift, sitting up. A pair of legs appeared to dangle beside his. He figured he wouldn’t have to explain himself any further for them to understand.

“I’m…sorry, Leona.”

“Don’t be, said I was fine.” He cleared his throat and looked down at them, now perched so diligently by his side. The warmth that kindled between both their arms felt…nice. Most of the skin-to-skin contact he received nowadays was from tumbling into club members during practice. “Can’t fix what you didn't break and all that.” He rubbed his face and peeked at them through his hand, watching them process his words.

As usual, he wanted to know what they were thinking. Leona smiled, he may not know for sure but he could see it, the way their eyes watered up. He hated the idea of being pitied but...he’d like to think it was something more now after all they'd been through together. That they were now somebody to each other, both their lives altered in a way they couldn’t go back on. And that the way they looked at him, meant something more.

“I understand.” They said in a voice so quiet it made his ear shiver. “If…it’s any consolation next time you’re, I don’t know, pondering your existence? Just know, I’m glad that you exist. I’m glad that we met, Leona.”

“Oh, really?” That was it. His breath caught, and his heart pounded at the simple words. How cute, he could even see them nibble on their lip in the dark. He knew they meant it, but he couldn’t help himself. “...Awe well, I’m glad my 21 years of torment could bring some levity into your life. That I exist for your entertainment,” He bit his lip and snickered at their expression of disbelief.

Soon they laughed too, covering their mouth quickly to spit out the baobab seeds into their hand, then hurrying to put them on his nightstand.

They butted their whole body against him when they came back and he gave in, letting their weight fall over him as they both cackled.

“Shut up.” Yuu slapped his chest once, but he seized them easily, pinning their arms to their sides. “Let go of me! You deserve to be hit! You almost made me choke to death just now!” They sputtered, loose hair falling all around their flustered face. “Then, just think, every year on your birthday you’d have a real reason to be mopy!”

He laughed even harder, laying his head back into the blankets, their soft, warm weight feeling good on top of him. “Heh, I guess you're right.”

Yuu scoffed, looking down at him disapprovingly but stayed anyway, chest pressed to his. They didn’t flinch in his arms like a skittish little prey animal, or look away in shame of the feelings between them. This time they only gazed down at him, eyes like mirrors, tilting their head to survey him. Leona stared back with equal intrigue, resisting the urge to wipe the stray cinnamon dust from the corners of their mouth.

Leona felt them let go of a held breath and relax into his arms. He took that as a sign to loosen his grip and wrap his arms around their lower back. In response, they only secured their position of dominance, nestling their head into his shoulder, acting like they belonged there.

Hmph.

His heart began to settle down and accept their gentle nuzzles, he still had to play it cool after all.

They smelled so good, just how he remembered. Sweet, but not too sweet, and earthy like the gardens back home in the dawn. His eyes fell closed. Oh, yeah. There it was, rearing its nasty head. Forces beyond both their understanding and any sense of logic, tangling them together again. Oh well, he was too weak to refuse.

In this moment of honesty, they only wiggled their foot against his as he let his tail drape over the back of their soft legs. Who did they think they were? Laying on him like he was just there to be a handsome pillow for them? Ack, who was he kidding? This is what he wanted, as soon as they stepped through his threshold an hour and half ago. Just comfort.

“You hungry?” They blurted out, face squished against his collarbone. “I’m starving.” They flicked their fingers at the end of his braid, their voice small like a child. He would have agreed no matter what they asked.

“Yeah.” --

They lead the way down the wooden walkways, wrapped tight in one of his blankets. Every so often their eyes would glint as they turned around to give him a small glance, making sure he was still following behind them. He laid on the counter while they cooked and while they complained how unsanitary it all was. It was bittersweet to see that they still remembered where everything was in the dorm.

He chuckled as they rambled on about various things while cooking, content to observe their chaotic technique. It was a lot like their skills in potion-making class. Climbing on the counters, spilling things and sticking their fingers in the mixture to taste along the way.

At the end of it, Yuu managed to cook the two of them some sort of egg dish along with some of the ham for his birthday tomorrow. It was his wasn’t it? Surely no one would notice one rabbit-sized and one lion-sized serving carved out of the side of the meat.

Once back in his room, they present the meal as if they were dining somewhere fancy.

The flavors were simple but good. For someone with no training they were good in the kitchen. That’s what he liked about their and Ruggie’s food. It was never boring, but the ingredients were few and humble, like their potion making: each one had a purpose. There was no fluff or pretention in the end product. As they ate together on his bed he forgot all about his birthday. It was just the two of them, and he was already homesick at the idea they would leave again.

“Ugh,” They lamented, face twisted in disgust as they poked their fork in the last bit of food on his plate, offering it to his awaiting mouth. “I swear you always win, And what you don’t...you cheat at.” They narrowed their eyes at him.

“Sore loser talk.” He retorted with a sly expression, opening his jaw to gladly savor the final bite of the meat and eggs, arms behind his head to rest back on the pillows. They lost to him alright and feeding him the last of his meal was their “punishment.” “Mmph, and how pray tell would I ever cheat at rock-paper-scissors, Beast?” He asked through his chewing, licking his lips.

They pulled back the utensil roughly, letting it clatter to the plate. “Ugh, I don’t know. but I’m watching you.” Their upper lip curled up as they scowled, revealing their own little fang before crawling over him to flop down. The black and white shadows played over their face from the screen. He didn’t use the digital projector much that his family got him last year, but tonight was an exception.

“How ferocious.” He purred at them, letting out a content sigh. Now that his belly was full he was even more weary. Leona’s lids grew heavier and heavier as his eyes settled on their form on the end of his bed. Their little huffs and rhythmic breaths sent tingles up his legs as they lay draped across him watching the movie.

How could he go to bed with a view like this?

“Mmm.” It was quiet as nothing but the film played out, the pictures reflecting in their wide eyes as they watched in rapture. He decided on one they hadn’t seen yet: an old noir he was fond of; a mystery. He figured they’d like that. Their little feet popped back and forth in the air as they continued to watch and after an indeterminate amount of time they gave him a backward glance.

“What’s up?” As their brow wrinkled at him they fished their two fingers into the candy bag. “Got a staring problem?” Licking the cinnamon from their fingertips they laid a seed on their red-stained tongue. They grabbed another and he could hear that they hit the bottom of the bag, eyes going a bit wide at the revelation, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Nothin.’” Leona responded, head dizzy and chest a bit lighter. “Are ya comfortable?” He used his tail to mess with them, flicking the end of it in their face.

They sputtered, attempting to swat it away as he dodged them, continuing to play with them. “Yes, Yes I am and you’re botherin’ me!” They put a finger up to their lip. “Shh! I can’t hear when you talk.” They knitted their brows at him before licking at the seed pinched between their fingers “...And get that thing outta my face before I bite it.”

“Oh, I’m quivering in fear.” He hissed before he finally had enough messing with them. His lips curved into a small grin of his own, his tail settling over the small of their back.

They looked back at him with mischievous eyes, form glowing by the moon on his bed.

“Mmm.” As their eyes settled on the screen, a dullness painted over their gaze as they looked down fumbling with the empty candy bag, clearly too beat to take any more jabs at him.

“Hm, You’re tired, aren’t cha? How is it? At the madhouse?”

“Well,” Their shoulders went up in a shrug and their eyes wandered the room. “To be honest…That’s kinda why I wanted to come here. Uh, I mean besides your birthday and all. Is that… bad?” They grimaced, awaiting his reaction.

He wanted to say it, but the words were stuck in his throat, and he didn’t wanna push it. He could behave, hold back.

“Nah,” He assured them and the rest of the words just slipped out. That and his hands had a mind of their own. “...Happy to be your distraction.” He sat up fully and moved closer, reaching down to tuck their hair behind their ear.

This caused them to adjust their position on his legs, blinking up at him. They gave him a little nod to assure him that how close he came was okay, even moving closer so he could reach them better. “But...Is that fair?” Yuu asked through a whisper, pupils a bit shaky.

He chuckled as he let his fingers drift down their cheeks, wiping the corners of their mouth with his thumbs, like he had been wanting to do all night. “Life’s not fair.” He said, letting out a small scoff at the deflated candy bag beside them. “Well, looks like you cleaned me out. So much for a birthday gift…” He teased, but he couldn't give less of a fuck.

Their wide gaze darted down to where he was looking but still allowed him to continue touching them. “Shit.” They hissed and he could feel their face go warm in his hands. I guess I’m a little distracted.” Yuu puffed out a breath, and they smiled “Vil doesn’t even let us have snacks. He locks the fridge after 8. Like…I’m not even competing! S-sorry, about the candy.”

It wasn’t like them to apologize. He tipped their chin up so he could see their face better. “...I’m just messin’ with ya. C’mon.” He was listening to them as best he could but he also felt himself getting sucked in. He swallowed. “Ey...you can eat whatever you want when you're with me.” He arched his brow, giving them a little wink.

“Hmph.” They let out a little relieved chuckle and relinquished his touch, letting their weary face fall into his cupped hand like the cute little herbivore they were.

“Oh.” He let out an audible sound at this development, as something stabbed through his chest. They were so damn cute and he was so damn pathetic. Sometimes the feelings were so intense that it hurt. Who woulda thought someone like him would be such a sap?

“It’s overwhelming…” They continued to wiggle closer, until they could lean their forehead in the center of his chest. Their eyes fell closed, and his fingers tangled in their hair as he began stroking the back of their neck.

He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing, he wasn’t used to comforting someone like this. But he was trying, and their skin was so damn soft under his fingertips.

“At every turn…there's someone telling me what to do. Everyone at the house being all needy and in the way. Ugh, I’m over it. Is that selfish?”

“Un-uh. Nothin’ wrong with wanting a little peace of mind,” He said, his fingers wrapping around their shoulders. “Know I wouldn’t last more than a day in that place…” He slipped his hands under their hair and traced down their back, letting his knuckles skate down their spine. “Looks like you’ve got more patience then me.”

They took note of his attempt to soothe them and began to play with his shirt as they talked.

“-Sounds like you could use a break…”

They froze at his words as if a realization struck them, features softening before him. “Yeah I-” Craning their head back they looked up at him, now eye to eye “I think…that’s why I came here.”

“Mmhmm,” He couldn't help it, his smile grew tenfold and his ego swelled. “Oh really? I’m that boring then, eh? That you only come to me to eat and sleep?” He was teasing them, but he could tell he struck a nerve.

“What?” They rolled their eyes at him, cocking their head. “N-no! I- Look! I know it’s your “day of birth” and all but I think I prefer the cocky, less self-deprecating Leona.” Unfortunately, this caused them to move from his lap and Yuu began to stack both their plates as they mumbled to themself. He resisted the urge to hold onto them and instead watched them pout and clean up, reaching down to set the objects on the floor.

“Tch, well…he's tired.” He shrugged. “Wasn’t a jab anyways I-”

There was a small rattle and he went quiet, knowing that they saw the bottle. They didn't say anything at first as they stretched back up, but after a moment of silence, their gaze went back to him. “You…goin’ to classes tomorrow?”

“Nah,” He crossed his arms. “Not if I can help it anyway.” He let himself fall back on the bed again, staring at the ceiling.

“You’re sure you're okay, Leona?”

He cursed himself for not hiding it better. “Don’t ask me that. I told ya, I’m fine. I wasn’t just saying it to make ya feel better. Tonight’s actually the first night I’ve taken ‘em since-'' He shook his head. “And it’s still not enough…” He muttered. “I’d sure be much better if I had a drink too tomorrow, heh.” He smirked as he rolled over, only to find them kneeling there close to him in the center of the bed. “Awe, now don’t look at me like that either...”

Their shoulders lowered and their face was soft again as they studied him, tunic hanging off of one of their arms. “Like what?”

“Like…my family.”

Yuu’s brows shot up and their expression shifted to one of defense. “I’m not.” They clenched the sheets below them. “No way I can judge you…” Yuu released a breath.” Were you…having trouble sleeping then? You just look…” They reached down, to tug on his braid. “...tired.” As they said this their hand went around his jaw, carefully moving his hair from his face.

“So I look that much like shit, eh?” At their touch the weight of it all began to collapse on him, Leona reached a hand to his face to overlap the back of theirs. “Yeah. I only took one anyway. Well, two...”

“Leona!” They scolded him in that voice, the one they used to use to keep everyone in line at this damn school. He missed it. It wasn’t too naggy or condescending. It hit him at his core, made his back straighten, and usually he knew they were right.

“What?”

“You’ve been tellin’ me to go to bed all night but…you are the one who should go to sleep!” They bit their lip as they laughed at him, shaking their head as they continued to pet him.

“But, I…can't.” He mouthed, the vision of their face above him a bit blurry. He wasn’t sure how it happened, how his head ended up in their lap, but he did, their soft thighs pressed against his face. They must have felt pretty bad for him.

“Mmm, looks like being a bit pathetic has its perk-”

“Shh-”

A wry chuckle rumbled in his chest and he put up his hands in defeat, lowering his ears. “Fine. You’re the boss, but…if you're gonna put me to bed…don’t I get a little somethin’ sweet? Technically you ate all my-”

Before he could say anything else he felt something soft and supple on his face, tracing on the edge of his scar. He let out a breath and his eyes widened as he sat up, tail standing on end.

They looked down at him a bit coy, touching a few fingers to their lips. “Sheesh… Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Didn’t know you lions were so jumpy.”

He swallowed, but tried to save face, running a hand through his hair. “...You lions, huh? He echoed. “Didn’t know little creatures like you were so…bold. N’ what was that all about?”

They rolled their eyes at his words, meanwhile they were acting so innocent, the final scenes of the movie playing behind their head. “I don’t know. Just a little…birthday gift. Something sweet.” Their shoulders rose up as they continued their little game. “If that’s okay.”

It was more than okay, he liked this game, when they came to play with him on their own. “Oh? A gift, huh?” His chest pounded so fast it was hard to speak, those damn pills. “...Sorry think I was a little…half asleep. I don't remember anything sweet…” He said through a delirious smirk. No way would it work but-

Without warning they slipped their fingers around his jaw, leaning down to kiss him again. This time, Yuu didn’t miss. They went straight for the kill, fitting their pouty lips between his for only a few seconds. Their soft little sighs, pulling at his broken heartstrings. When they were done, he was able to catch his breath again, a tingle going up his spine. He licked the taste of them from his lips, savoring it, the spices from the candy making his mouth water. The ball was in their court and if this is what they wanted he wouldn’t refuse them.

But, as usual, he was greedy…so he tested his luck once more.

He panted chewing his lip, “Hmph. That…all I get?” He frowned as if he wasn’t satisfied. “Hm, it is my birthday, after all.”

He managed to get a little laugh and a snort of disbelief from them. “...Needy.” The words were hot over his mouth as they lowered themselves to him again, nails digging into his jaw. They took their time with him, spreading their attention to the rest of his face beyond his mouth, leaving a trail of fire behind each little kiss.

Leona’s eyes rolled back, no one ever kissed him quite like they did.

He swore they did it on purpose, trying to coax the little noises from back of his throat. As they laid their lips on him more, his fingers gripped onto own his shirt, heart thudding against his knuckles. He let them do all the work as they pampered him, his tail bobbing between his legs. And all he could do was melt into their lap as they killed him over and over with their cinnamon sugar kisses. Unfortunately, he knew if he let himself taste them back, he wouldn’t be able to stop till he devoured them, and he didn’t wanna overwhelm them…this time.

When they were done he felt drunk, his lips still burning from the candy dust, lungs full of their sweet breaths. His head was dizzier than sleeping pills would have ever made him. It was fatal. He knew this would be even more habit-forming than any of his other vices.

“Now, that was somethin’ sweet…”

They stared down at him, a bit unimpressed, wiping the left over drool he had left on the edge of their mouth. “...You gonna sleep now, Lion?” They mused, playing with his braid, and using it to tap at his forehead.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” He let his eyes fall closed and sighed, the hole in his chest stitched together, for now. He felt himself drifting off already, safe in their custody, still licking his lips.

“Hey?”

“Hm?”

Tell me…’bout your day, hm? Mmm, what have you been doing since I last saw ya? Tell me anything.” He commanded softly. His body became more weightless in their arms as they petted his hair, massaging his scalp around his limp ears. “I wanna listen while I…”

“Oh? Am I that boring? You want me to put you to sleep?” Their soft laughter echoed above, so far off now.

He used the last reserves of his energy to chuckle one last time. “No, I just wanna…hear ya. That’s all.”

The last thing he felt was their lips over his left eyelid, then his right. That was it, this little move caused his eyes to burn. Hm, no one had ever kissed him like that, it was like he was a kid again.

“Fine. Happy Birthday, Leona.”

#twst #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #leona twst #leona kingscholar x yuu #twisted wonderland #bunnwich writes📝

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jasmineoolongtea · 5 months ago

Text

plastic palm trees ― gojo satoru

caught in a dream, it's not what it seems

contents: gojo satoru x f!reader (exes), from the reader's pov this time, nicknames (sweets), angst, hurt + no comfort, questionable coping mechanism, small moments of happiness/fluff (in the flashbacks/memories), suggestive themes for like one memory, swearing/cursing, insecurities from the reader's side, drinking/alcohol

summary: memories from during and immediately after your relationship with satoru (pt. 2 to deeply still in love)

wc: 4.7k (wow that's a doozy and sorry on my part for any errors you might spot because this is kinda not proofread)

a/n: ahhh ty guys sm for the love on deeply still in love, i was not expecting it to blow up like that but i'm just so happy that you guys also enjoy it as well !!! this is kinda a part 2 but not really since it's mainly flashbacks. there is a part 3/conclusion to this whole mini saga coming soon so watch out for it :000. art by objectgraphy on x (nsfw warning for the full pic)

It plays again in your head like a clip from a movie you've seen way too many times.

It's you and him, just the two of you and no one else, sitting in his stupid beat-up black jeep wrangler that's probably seen too much by this point that's parked in the middle of some random parking lot well past midnight by now.

Satoru always complains that something's broken for the hundredth time whenever he comes to pick you up from your dorm for another one of his late-night rendevous however despite all this complaining, you're always greeted with the sight of the same black car even though you know he has a car collection that's way too extensive for any reasonable university student to have.

You're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times you've asked to just get a new car at this point but he always refuses for some reason that's beyond you.

Nostalgia, he says as he pats the well-worn leather lining of its interior. We've been through a lot, me and this one, he'll add on, talking about the vehicle as a person rather than some inanimate object and then he'll start pouting at you like some sort of petulant child when you stare back at him unconvinced.

There's a part of you that wants to call him a 'sentimental idiot' for stuff like this but actually, habits like this only serve to further endear him to you in some weird twist of fate and you can only muster an affectionate eye roll as a response.

There's no particular reason as to why you and Satoru would drive out and just sit and be together like this. It wasn't even because of this specific parking lot as well since you two would just usually drive around until you found a parking lot that looked empty enough and just park there to bask under the canopy of the night sky above.

It was always so quiet. You liked the quiet.

Before you met Satoru, you thought this quiet was something only you could keep to yourself but he taught you that there was merit to be had in sharing the quiet with someone else. Even if that someone else might make your 'quiet' much louder than what you're typically used to.

"I like it here." You mumble softly in the sleeves of your (his) sweater. It was one of your favourites because it was soft and it smelled like him.

"You like the city?" There's an edge of suspicion in his voice like he can't believe someone could ever like this place coming from someone who's grown up in said city. To be fair, the place had its good, bad and ugly and maybe as a city native, he had become accustomed to more of the bad and ugly rather than the good.

"I mean, it's nicer from where I came from. A lot of places are nicer than the town I'm from." You laugh half-heartedly as you lean against the cold glass of the window.

Satoru goes quiet for a moment. You don't talk about your hometown that much and for good reason, in your opinion. University was one of your few chances to get out of there and you took that chance without so much of a look back or regret in your mind.

It's nice, cosy even, if you ignore the slight tingling sensation crawling up your legs when you sit in the way you like to sit for too long or the fact that you're both hanging out in an abandoned parking lot in the dead of night. Whatever this is, you think you wouldn't change it for the world if you were given the choice.

Too bad, your getaway couldn't last forever.

The words are weighing heavy on your tongue, just there on the tip as if they're ready to jump off any second but you tighten your lips in a frail attempt to stop them from spilling out. You know the words you're going to have to say will change the way that things are, no matter how much you want things to stay like this.

Satoru leans his head against the car window next to him, hitting the glass with a soft bonk that you're sure hurts but of course, he doesn't react to the collision. Instead, his attention is focused on staring at you, angling his body in a way so that he can get a better look at you, with that classic dopey smirk of his plastered on his face as he does.

A part of you hates him for being able to look so good even in the broken glow of the overhead parking lot lights that would have made anyone else look sickly under its cracked yellow hue.

Not him though, never him. He looks like an angel, you think to yourself, with the way the wisps of white hair splayed out around him illuminate into something that resembles a halo which further elevates his already ethereal features into something otherwordly.

"Shame, it can't last though." You murmur quietly to yourself, moreso of in the vein of thinking out loud rather than starting a conversation. Unfortunately for you, it seems he's heard you.

"What do you mean?" He asks, sitting a little bit straighter in the driver's seat as he looks on inquisitively.

You avoid looking back at him because you know if you could see his expression, it would only make saying goodbye harder. "I can't stay, Toru." You tell him as you gaze into the black nothingness of the night sky from inside the car. "I'll have to move back after graduation."

"What? Why?"

"The rent is crazy expensive here. The only reason I can stay here for uni is because of the student pricing and now that we're graduating, there's no way I can afford to find a place in time." You gnaw nervously at the bottom of your lip as you speak, a bad habit, you know, but it's just something you can't really kick.

You don't want it to end like this, who would? You don't want to say goodbye to the city, to your life, to him. You've had your first taste of true independence and it's being taken away from you because of stupid expensive rent prices, of all things.

A very anti-climatic way to go out if anyone were to ask you.

The car is dead silent for a few minutes. You're scared for whatever his reaction is going to be. He's going to break up with you, isn't he? You think to yourself and you hate the fact that your mind instantly jumps to the worst option but you can already feel a pit start forming at the bottom of your stomach .

The longer the silence drags the more you're convinced he's going to kick you out of the car or something worse and you can already feel yourself bracing for whatever fallout is coming your way.

"Then move in with me. I have an apartment here, a pretty good apartment if you ask me." He states, shrugging his shoulders casually as if he were simply talking about the weather instead of suggesting something as major as this.

"...What?" You reply, though your words come out more as a question as you try to comprehend what he's just asked.

A beat of silence passes the two of you. You don't move.

"I'm serious. Move in with me." You scan his face for any of the typical telltale signs that he might be pulling a prank on you and you find his face scarily devoid of any of them.

Oh, he's dead serious, you think to yourself, with the way he's looking expectantly at you.

"Satoru, do you understand what you're asking?" You ask, still in a state of disbelief at his offer.

He makes a face at you like the answer to your question is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Obviously, if I didn't why would I ask you." He remarks as he raises an eyebrow at you and before you can open your mouth to retort back, he brings a finger up to your lips to silence you. "And, it's not that strange of a request considering the fact that you're my girlfriend. Don't people in a relationship usually move in together like isn't that some big relationship milestone that they look forward to?"

"I-I mean it is but still."

"Okay, then what's the problem."

"I don't know." You sigh, mulling over his proposition in your head for a bit before turning back to him.

"Just promise me this, Toru. Promise me you won't get sick of me?" You ask him as you reach out your pinky towards him.

A pinky promise. It's childish you know but Satoru knows how much small things like this mean to you.

He reaches his hand out to you and interlocks his pinky with you but before you can pull away, he laces his other fingers with yours and brings your hands up to his lips for a soft kiss. The tips of your ears burn red at the way his lips brush your skin.

"Sweets, I could never get sick of you. Actually, I don't think I could ever get over you as long as I lived."

"You better hope that's true or I'm gonna make you eat your words." You grin cheekily at him, a smile which he reciprocates tenfold before basically pouncing over the console to wrap his arms around you. A squeal escapes you as you burst out into a fit of giggles as he peppers your face with feather-light kisses all whilst fighting off your weak attempts at pushing him off.

His arms rest against the plush leather of the passenger seat, trapping you against him, as his flurry of kisses dies down. He stops for a second, admiring the sight of you so close to him and a part of you wants to shrink from the intensity of his gaze. Unfortunately with the way that his arms are caging you in, there's nowhere to hide and you're left at his mercy.

Satoru leans closer, barely inches away from your face as he hovers right above your lips. "Oh yeah? Well, you're gonna be waiting for a long time because that's never gonna happen." His lips find their place against yours, melting into you like they were made for you and you think to yourself that this must be what home feels like.

Another memory of a happier time flashes through after that.

This time, you're lost in between the bedsheets with him, bare skin on skin as the two of you whisper sweet nothings to each other like lovers do in the dead of night when there's no one watching.

"I like it here." He mutters softly. His arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him like you're his very own lifeline, and his legs are haphazardly intertwined with yours in some mess of limbs that might be able to pass as an abstract art piece if you look at it right from a certain angle.

The blanket is resting dangerously low around his hips and you're wondering how he isn't freezing as you cling onto him as your own personal space heater in the darkness that surrounds the two of you.

It's quiet once again.

"What? Us naked in your bed?" You quip.

"You know that's not what I meant." He groans into your bare shoulder as you giggle softly to yourself, clearly pleased with your well-timed jibe.

"Sorry, I just had to take the opportunity to tease you."

You can't necessarily see him right now but you're sure he's probably lovingly rolling his eyes at you. A sigh escapes his lips and you shiver slightly from the way the blast of hot air hits your skin.

"I like it here when it's just me and you and there's no one else except us in this world." He confesses to you as his fingers begin to explore the expanses of your body as if trying to commit the way you feel under his fingertips into memory.

You bite the corner of your lip as you fight the urge to shrink under his delicate touch.

There's another jest resting on the tip of your tongue but you decide that Satoru's had enough terrorising on your behalf so you say nothing and instead quietly soak up this rare respite from the busyness of everyday life that has been afforded to you two.

"Just us, together, in this bed where we don't need to care about anything else except just that." He adds on, his voice resolute and although you don't say anything out loud, you think you agree with him.

In here, in between these four walls, you two can pretend that the entire world existed within these confines and all the two of you needed to do was to reach out and you had the world at your fingertips. At the end of the day, it was simple and something the two of you could forever return to.

You wished that things could stay simple.

Before you can linger on that moment any longer, it's gone in the blink of an eye as another memory swoops in to take its place.

The door to your shared apartment creeks open and as you crane your head towards the doorway from your spot on the sofa, you're greeted with the sight of a slightly dazed Satoru clumsily entering.

"What's up?" You ask as you shoot up from your place, quickly making your way across the apartment to check up on him as a pang of concern over his current state hits you.

At the sight of you, Satoru is suddenly drawn back into reality as he blinks owlishly for a few seconds as if attempting to reacquaint himself with his surroundings and bring his clearly distracted mind back into reality.

"I just got a call from my family's company. They're giving me the chance to head a new division they want to expand into." He replies as he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his which shows that this offer is clearly weighing heavy on him. You take his hand in yours and give it a comforting squeeze in the way that he would do for you all those times before, a gesture you can tell he greatly appreciates with the way his shoulders sag with relief.

He confesses softly to you. "I don't know if I should do it."

"Why? What's holding you back?" You question, somewhat confused by his hesitation. This is a major offer and you're surprised that he isn't jumping off the walls with excitement but you're sure he must have his reasons.

"I just- The hours are going to be long and well, you know how many family is and the elders are-"

You cut him off sharply, sensing that Satoru was on his way down a lengthy ramble. "I think you should take it." He stares at you, almost slightly bewildered at your apt response. "It'll be good for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure Toru. If you don't take this opportunity, you're going to regret later down the line." You insist, sending a reassuring smile his way. Even if he can't see it now, you're sure that this going to be good for him. For the both of you.

Whatever new hurdles that might come your way from this like Satoru is convinced is going to happen, you have faith that the two of you can make it out relatively unscathed.

It's good to have faith right?

The new question was, how long can your faith carry you?

You're pacing back and forth in your shared apartment for what seems like the millionth time as you anxiously watch the seconds tick down on the clock.

"Hey, Toru. What time do you think you're going to be back?" You're trying to balance the phone between your ear and shoulder as you smooth out a napkin to the best of your ability. It's looking a little wonky, if you're going to be honest and maybe tonight of all nights wasn't really the time to find out if you were good at folding napkins into fancy shapes like they do at the restaurant but you needed tonight to go according to plan.

It had to. Tonight was an important night for both of you.

"Why, what's the occasion?" From the way he's asking, you don't think he's putting on an act of pretending not to know for the surprise. Rather, it's a genuine question on his behalf and somehow, for some reason, that feels even worse than outright disgust.

"Did you forget?" You feel your voice falter ever so slightly, another crack etching its way onto your already fragile heart. "It's our anniversary dinner."

"Shit, I'm so sorry, sweets. It totally slipped my mind with all of these meetings and stuff they're having me do." You hear an exhausted sigh ring out from the other side of the phone in between the cacophony of other voices taking up space in the background. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"...No, It-it's fine. We can just reschedule this stuff for another day." A breathy laugh leaves your lips in a weak attempt to try and convince him that it was truly alright and that it was just something else to brush off.

"...If you say so."

"I'm serious, Satoru. It's fine, I can just reschedule things for another day that's all." Another one to add to the evergrowing pile, a bitter voice barks from within the recesses of your mind.

Much to your chagrin, you're unfortunately becoming much more acquainted with this voice and although you haven't responded to its taunts yet, you can feel your resolve wearing away with each late night you watch the streets below for any sign of life, his life to be specific.

Worst of all, you can't say you regret this, can you? Because if you do, then it would basically be confessing that all of the pain and late nights the both of you have been sacrificing have been all for nought and that you were wrong for pushing the both of you down this path.

It needs to be worth it so that there's a reason for this pain that you're feeling when things like this become an afterthought but you're starting to wonder how many times you have to say it until it becomes real instead of just a pipe dream you had the misfortune of being caught in.

Soon, it seemed that these doubts weren't just one-sided anymore.

"This is good for us, right?" Satoru asks one night as the two of you are getting ready for bed. It's been a while since the two of you have gone to bed at the same time as your clocks fall further and further out of sync the longer you two spend out of each other's embrace. There's a strong hint of uncertainty in his voice like he's trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince you. "...You're happy right?"

You don't look at him in the eye. You can't. "Right, yeah. I mean, this is what we want." Your answer isn't as resolute as you hoped that it would come out but you brush past it in the hopes of making sure whatever doubts you may have bubbling underneath your surface remain there.

"You didn't answer my other question."

A nervous laugh escapes you. "What do you mean?"

"Are you happy?" You stop in your tracks for a moment as you process his question.

There were a lot of things you could have said at that time, the truth would have been a good option, but instead, you chose to swallow the difficult choice down and take the easy way out by plastering on a sickly sweet smile and lying to him through your teeth.

"Of course, I'm happy Satoru."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you're greeted with that oh-so-familiar sensation of that pit in the bottom of your stomach as the bitter voice you've tried to suppress makes its infamous return to the forefront of your mind.

Looking back at it now, maybe you should have said the truth, it would have saved you two a lot of pain in retrospect but pride is a funny thing and you're sure that Satoru was in the same position you were in at this point.

That's probably why he didn't push any further after your response, no matter how fake it probably sounded out loud. It's either that or he wanted to believe that you were actually telling the truth.

You're not sure which one is worse.

In another world, you would like to think that there's a point to your mind deciding to subject you to this trip down memory lane aside from dredging up your past pains and regrets to torture you. Maybe, in this other world, you would have a sudden life-changing revelation awaiting you at the end of the road but all you can see just nothing.

It's better this way, right? For the both of you.

You told yourself that when you sat him down and broke up with him in the total sum of a few sentences before leaving because you didn't want to truly say goodbye to him as that would make everything more real and therefore much worse. You told yourself that when you sat in the backseat of your friend's car they came to pick you up for a night out because they insisted that you needed to get out of your head sometimes. You tell yourself this when you stare into the barrel of the gun in the form of the glass of alcohol sitting in front of you.

He deserves better than being lied to on the daily and someone like you holding him back. You can't even remember the last time you actually, truly looked him in the eye for longer than a few seconds. You imagine the old you who loved to get lost in the vast expanses of his cerulean eyes that would gaze at you like you were the one who personally hung the stars in the sky.

Before, if his eyes were the great roaring ocean, you would gladly let yourself get pulled under by the tide even if it meant drowning in its depth. Now, you're scared to even dip your toes in the shoreline when the wave is nothing more than just the remnants of sea foam.

You reach over for another sip, pretending like the burning aftertaste left in its wake doesn't make you want to wince.

Maybe Satoru was onto something with his dislike of alcohol. You've learned that after a few drinks, all liquor, no matter the amount of zeros slapped onto the end of its price tag starts to taste the same by the end of the night.

There's just so much of him everywhere. In the objects, the, hell even the air. You think you might suffocate from the sheer amount of him you're surrounded by. It doesn't matter where you go, all you can see is him.

You needed to get out.

Pushing past the crowd all whilst ignoring the confused calls of your friends to your sudden switch in behaviour, you stumble your way to the bathroom and lock the door behind you as you slump down defeated next to the sink.

Truth be told, his question haunts you more than you would like to admit.

"Are you happy?"

You don't think you are. Maybe you should be, you have everything that would usually qualify for someone to answer that they are happy and you're no longer that struggling student you were a few years ago which is definitely a plus.

You tell other people that you are 'happy' when they ask, with a smile that never reaches your eyes and a grip that's probably too tight on whatever you're holding in your hands at the time but the answer never feels right, no matter how many times you say it out loud and let it roll off your tongue.

Despite what you tell yourself, perhaps the time when you were happy, truly happy, was when you were with him.

Deep down, you think that if you were given the choice between now and then, you would trade all of this for a chance to be those dumb kids sitting and making out in parking lots without a care in the world except for each other again in a heartbeat.

As you study the tiles of the wall opposite you, you think to yourself that it would be nice to stay here in this bathroom, far away from the rest of the world and far away from what feels like all your regrets personified but the logical, reasonable part of you knows that there's no way you could realistically stay here any longer before your friends start worriedly banging on the door.

Slowly, your shoulders deflate with a defeated sigh as you stand up and make your way out of whatever bar you've been dragged to as you bid your friends goodbye in a way that you hope doesn't raise any suspicions.

The air feels bitingly cold as the wind nips at your face while you stand awkwardly on the curb, waiting for a taxi as you go to both the first and last place you want to be at; your apartment. Ironically, in a cruel twist of fate, the total absence of anything relating to Satoru only makes his lack of presence only more pronounced.

If this was the universe's doing, then you had a few choice words for them to say the least.

You wrap your arms around yourself in a vain attempt to maintain some semblance of body heat as you quickly flag down the nearest car and clamber in. When you arrive back, you glance at the clock and you have to fight the urge to let out a laugh when you see that it's barely even past 10pm and you're already back at home.

Pathetic, the bitter voice in your head spits out.

You do what you do best and ignore it as you collapse into the embrace of your bed and try your bed to lull yourself to whatever empty dreamscape awaits you this time if only to get a moment away from your current reality. It doesn't last long though because you're awoken by the shrill ringing of your phone.

Should have silenced it, you curse yourself silently as you blindly reach for it. Once it's in your hands, you squint as the blinding brightness of the screen and a flicker of recognition flashes through you as you realise who's actually calling you and for some reason, against your better judgment, you pick up.

When you hang up, you don't go back to sleep. Rather, you're unable to go back to sleep as you're left staring blankly at the ceiling above you. The bed feels too big for one person and you find yourself missing the nights where you could go to sleep alone and wake up in the arms of another.

Much like when you're forced to watch a replay of all your memories, you're wondering if what you said was right. If you were to go by what you've been telling yourself since the breakup, then sure, you did the right thing. But if it is truly the right thing, then it doesn't explain this inexplicable emptiness gnawing deep within your chest or this aching feeling that sits in a place you can't quite reach but are all too aware of.

The longer you let your mind run through all the possibilities you can think of, the more often you find yourself coming back to the same conclusion. It's better this way, be damned, you think to yourself and with that, you make up your mind to set off on a mission.

Out of all of the places you could have found yourself at, this is definitely quite down low on the list and maybe this is what you deserve for trusting your feet instead of your head but you decide that at this point, you don't have much else to lose and so, you gather up the courage to say the words that you've been waiting to say for a while.

"Hi."

#‧₊˚ ⋅ 🍵 writes #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk angst #gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic

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masterstr0ke · 9 months ago

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Hihi, i wanted to make a request (if it’s open) Your last aventurine and welt pieces were beautiful 🩷

Dr ratio hasn’t gotten the time to spend time with you lately and he works hard, but you are his supportive spouse so you bring him snacks and remind him to take breaks in between and kiss the cheek of his alabaster head as a treat (he has it on) before you do your own work. Now all he can think about is you for the rest of the day (perhaps he would have preferred it on his skin too)

If you don’t write for him that’s fine ^^

No need to rush, tyt! ☁️

YOU KNOW I’M SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU.

HUSBAND!RATIO x GN!READER

WARNINGS: annoyed Ratio, jealousy over an inanimate object (?), drowning in work. 2nd person POV (you/yours/yourself)

WORD COUNT: 494

AUTHOR NOTE: i know what you are👀

The day was slow at the Intelligentsia Guild, especially for the infamous Dr. Ratio.

Since the day began, all he has been doing is deal with insufferable morons with a worn-out shoe for a brain! Such imbeciles, Ratio believes time is precious, but unfortunately his students are dumb enough to waste it, even dumber to waste his time by asking how old he is or if he’s single or not.

Those fools don’t have to know that at-work Dr. Ratio is different than at-home Veritas, and can’t they figure out the question themselves by paying the slightest bit of attention to the silver band on his left hand’s ring finger? His attitude should’ve intimidated them enough for their minds to not go beyond the assumption that all he does at home is shower, eat work and sleep.. right? At least, that’s what he thinks.

However, he hasn’t been paying enough attention to the beautiful person sharing the other ring with him; the one he said his vows to. All he does when he goes back home is shower, eat, work and sleep. That’s it. He doesn’t even have time to glance your way, and that angers him.

He put on his alabastor head; His expression was too sour to welcome anyone who dares enter his office besides higher-ups. And just as he was about to start working in peace, a knock erupted at his office’s door, great. Ratio grumbled quietly. “Come in.” He spoke in an authoritative tone, expecting this to be a higher-up or an idiot student.

You open the door, a box in your hand, and a wide smile that rivals the sun in its shiny glory. “Veritas!” You call out as a greeting, before rushing to his desk. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll make this quick. You forgot your lunch at my office,” Oh, so that’s where his lunch went. You also worked at the Intelligentsia Guild, also being a teacher of high regard. Opposites attract, they say. All of your students love you, and you’re friends with everyone; An obvious contrast from your husband. You place the lunchbox on his desk with your left hand, the band on your ring finger glistening in the sunlight, the source being the window behind Veritas’ chair.

You then lean in and kiss the cheek of the alabastor head, then the lips. It wasn’t enough, since the head lacked the warmth of skin, but you were content. You give him a smile before you head out the door, just like that.

Ratio slowly took off the alabastor head, looking at it in disgust as if it owes him something. It does, it took away his lover’s kisses. As childish as it sounds, he’s been craving a kiss for a while. He supposes he has to wait until he goes back home, maybe he’ll get all the kisses he wants. In exchange of his work being put aside, even for a little while.

#honkai star rail #dr ratio #veritas ratio #hsr ratio #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail ratio #ratio x reader #ratio x you #hsr fanfic #hsr fandom #hsr x reader #star rail

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sarahs-library · 1 year ago

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Forgotten: Pretty Eyes

A/N - Forgotten is giving me serious writer's block right now, so here's a little smutty snippet from the same universe before the story begins. You aren't together yet, the bond has snapped for Azriel but you remain blissfully unaware. Also I love the idea of meddling Nesta. This is also my first time publishing any smut, so hopefully it doesn't seem as cringey to you as it did to me re-reading it.

Word count: 4704

Warnings: Smut

Forgotten Part One ☪ Part Two ☪ Part Three

Your POV

Settled into the plush leather couch, you pulled the blanket up to your chin, creating a cozy nest for yourself. You balanced the book Nesta had given you on your lap, the worn cover a familiar weight against your skin. The floral sundress you wore fluttered around your legs, exposing the delicate skin of your knees, which you instinctively tucked beneath the warm embrace of the blanket. Once comfortable, you flipped open the hardcover to read the synopsis inlaid on the first page and snorted. Gratuitous smut, that much was predictable. But the story revolved around fated mates who couldn’t stay away from each other, despite every glaringly obvious reason to. Her recent recommendations had all centered on this theme, which you found puzzling. You couldn’t understand the Fae’s obsession with them, or Nesta’s for that matter.

Sure, you understood the religious aspect, most cultures had deities or worshipped magic in some form. Prythian’s Mother was no different in your eyes from the innumerable nameless gods you’d encountered in your travels over the years. But even so, the Fae's sanctification of basic biology was unique. You cleared your throat and looked up.

“Excuse me? House?” It felt strange, to address an inanimate object. You hadn’t quite believed Nesta when she first told you the House was sentient, a byproduct of her cauldron-made power. But it had seen to your needs enough over the last few months, often without prompting, that you’d found yourself creating a tentative relationship with it. “Do you have another book for me? Nesta’s been recommending so many of these, I’d rather read something different.” A moment later, a small pile of books dropped onto the table next to you. You thanked the House as you reached for the top book on the pile.

A God cursed to remain locked in his mountain hold until his soulmate frees him…You stopped reading with a frown, setting the book aside with the other before taking the next one. And then the next. You reached the end of the pile, all books about soulmates or fated mates or love pairs. Maybe the House had misunderstood you. You gathered the books up again, this time placing the one Nesta had lent you at the top of the pile and addressed the House again.

“Sorry, I meant do you have anything different than a romance? Maybe something with a bit of action and adventure?” The pile didn’t vanish, no other books appeared either. You waited for a few seconds. “House?” You knew it was close with Nesta, perhaps you’d offended it by inadvertently insulting her reading tastes.

You considered getting up from the comfy nest you’d created in the sitting room to go to the library and pick something off the shelves yourself. You eyed the book at the top of the pile again and sighed. Grabbing it you cracked open to the first page. Only then did the pile vanish, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. In its place stood a glass filled with fruity, fizzing pink wine from the Summer Court. It knew that you preferred it to the heartier reds more commonly found in the Night Court. You thanked the House and took a sip from the wine glass before turning your attention to the book propped open against your knees.

A dull pain in your neck drew you from sleep. Your dry eyes adjusted to the low lighting as you began to sit up. You groaned and massaged the sore muscles in your neck and shoulder, cursing yourself for falling asleep in such an awkward position. The book, still open at the last page you were reading, slipped from your lap and hit the floor with a dull thud. Fae light housed in a dark glass shade flickered to life on the table next to your empty wine glass. Freeing the blanket from where it was tangled between your legs, you bent to retrieve the book from the floor. The hand you reached out stopped shy of the cover, the tips of your fingers brushing against the shadows that teeming it, burrowing under the pages.

They didn’t shy away from your touch. Instead, they pushed the book across the floor into your open hand. You grasped at the leather-bound spine, cool shadows curling between your fingers and sliding up the back of your hand.

“Thank you.” You inclined your head and righted yourself on the sofa, expecting them to disperse in search of their master.

“Don’t tell me you’ve joined Nesta’s smutty book club too.” Reflectively you gripped the book tighter as the voice came from behind you. After months of living together at the House, you were beginning to be able to decipher Azriel’s moods. Smooth, dark, and low his tone of voice rarely gave away what he was feeling. But the slight elongation of some vowels and the emphasis on the word smutty told you he was amused. A delicate flush rose on your cheeks, and you resolved not to look at him.

“I mostly go for the wine. But Nesta said this was one of her favourites, though I’m not sure why.” The shadows that had helped you retrieve the book began to climb up over the edge of the sofa, to investigate further as you held it in your lap. You could feel him inching closer behind you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Satisfied with their investigation, or at whatever silent command Azriel gave them, the shadows began to return to his side. You were unsure of how cognizant they were. As one of them brushed against the soft skin of your thigh, exposed from where your dress had ridden up, you wondered if it was intentional. You were glad to not see his face. Not while his shadows snitched to him about the colour dusting your cheeks and the very long, very explicit description of the mating frenzy between the main characters you’d been reading before you fell asleep.

“Too tame for you, sweetheart?” You’d been playing this game for weeks now. Glances that lingered a hair too long to be appropriate. Comments that bordered on suggestive but still gave plausible deniability. Any excuse to touch, to feel the other’s skin as you passed a dish at family dinner or assisted Azriel with demonstrations for the priestesses.

And you hated it, the effect he had on you. You knew, somewhere deep inside in a place you didn’t want to acknowledge, that he was part of the reason you’d taken advantage of Rhys’ hospitality. Why you hadn’t been itching to leave, to find another place after you landed unceremoniously, bleeding and half-conscious, in the Night Court all those months ago.

You sighed. “No, it’s not that.” Azriel was standing directly behind you now. When you took your next breath his scent, night-chilled mist and cedar, filled your nose. “I know she and Cassian are disgustingly in love, but I’d prefer her to give me at least one recommendation that doesn’t revolve and two people finding out they are mates, and then fucking for the next 100 pages.”

Azriel made a low, humming sound. Not in agreement, but in consideration of what you said. You thought he was going to speak, grace you with a sarcastic remark. Instead, he leaned over the back of the sofa. His face was so perilously close to your neck that you could feel the hot breath he exhaled, as he plucked the open book from your lap. He retreated as quickly as he’d come; you instinctively turned, reaching one hand up to stabilise yourself against the plush leather.

His hazel eyes met yours, and the triumphant smirk he gave you ignited both irritation and something primal. Held aloft in one hand, he lifted the book to his eyeline as the shadows flicked swiftly through the pages. Landing on the passage he wanted, he began to read aloud.

“His manhood was hot and hard and thick with lust. He pounded into her rough and ready, their gasps puffing in the air, steam rising off their skin.” Your cheeks flushed deeper. You hauled yourself up the back of the sofa, resting on your knees, attempting to use the leverage to lessen the advantage his greater height gave him. Reaching out, you tried to snatch the book from his grasp only for him to move it away just as your fingers brushed against the cover. He took a half-step back, still within arm’s length but not close enough for you to reach without losing your balance.

Azriel arched a brow, eyes alight with thinly veiled amusement as he took in your flushed face. You noticed the way they strayed, just for a moment, following the path of your exposed neck down towards your chest. A traitorous part of you preened under the attention of his gaze. Instinct prompted you to press the advantage he’d unwittingly given you, using the moment of his distraction to vault over the back of the sofa and close the distance between you. Azriel’s wings flared behind him, but he didn’t retreat from the sudden proximity, even as your hand reached up to grasp the book over his own.

Dragging his eyes away from you, he feigned nonchalance as he continued to skim the pages of the book. You realised your mistake then, calf muscles straining to keep your weight steady as you stood frozen on arched feet. His eyes didn’t leave the page even as his other hand came up to rest on your hip. The fabric of your dress felt dangerously thin as the warmth from his palm and slightly splayed fingers seeped through. Thin enough to feel the callouses on the finger that skimmed tantalisingly close to the edge of your underwear.

“The male says such filthy things.” He allowed you to pull the book down but didn’t relinquish his grip. Hazel eyes met yours, darkened even in the fae light. Slowly lowering your weight back onto the balls of your feet, you held his gaze. You were acutely aware of how little space was left between the two of you. Cool shadows brushed against the bare skin of your legs, catching on the hem of your dress and skirting at your waist. The breath you inhaled, made ragged by the proximity, filled your lungs with Azriel’s scent. Lust fogged your thoughts, quietening the voice in your mind that warned you of the precipice you teetered on. Even through the haze, you recognised there would be no going back, not once you acted on this.

“Do you like it when your lovers speak to you like this, sweetheart?” His voice, guttural and slow, seemed to speak directly to the embers now burning within you. He edged closer, enough that the fabric of your dress brushed against the scaled leather on his chest. You backed away, even as you felt your body react, but kept your eyes trained on Azriel’s face. His shadows returned to him, agitating a breeze that carried the unmistakable scent of your arousal. Azriel inhaled deeply, savouring it like a man half-drowned. His gaze became predatory as he prowled closer to you.

You felt the brush of cool leather against the heated skin of your back and the curve of your buttocks. He stepped closer, muscular arms brushing your waist on either side as he rested his hands on the sofa, caging you in. You held his gaze, even as he lowered his face close enough that your breath mingled. You tried to grasp at something, formulate a scathing remark that would disseminate the tension, that would allow you to step out of this room with your friendship still intact. All you could focus on was how easy it would be to reach up, tangle your fingers into Azriel’s hair, and bring his face down to close the distance between your lips. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk and he feigned closing the distance, tilting his head before passing over your mouth and whispering in your ear.

“You haven’t answered my question.” His breath danced over the shell of your ear, and you fought against the urge to arch your back and press yourself into his chest. His lips ghosted over the skin of your neck as he traced the curve down to where it met your collarbone.

“My preferences regarding lovers are of no concern to you.” He stilled against you.

“Is that so?” The words caressed your skin, drawled and meant to provoke as he made the return journey back towards your lips. You managed a breathy affirmation, even as he trailed fire in his wake. The barest of touches, feeding your desire for more of them, more of him. You didn’t notice the hand until his palm slid up to rest on the side of your neck, gripping your jaw between scarred fingers and thumb. His grip was firm as he pulled back to look at you.

“Such lies from such a sweet, little mouth.” His thumb stroked a path up, sweeping across your plump lower lip. You parted them on instinct. Lust-darkened eyes met your own, and a moment of clarity passed between you both. One that spoke of more than just base needs or primal instincts. Hiding in his eyes was a promise of more. Something that neither of you were ready to address just yet.

"You have such pretty eyes," Azriel's thumb dragged your lower lip down, his husky baritone stoked the fire of arousal coursing in your veins. "I can't wait to see you looking up at me, with my cock in your mouth." His other hand moved to your hip as he trailed his thumb down, palm splayed as he traced your jaw; your neck to where the cut of your dress lay at the valley between your breasts. He toyed with the edge before moving his hand to trace down your other side, thumb brushing the underside of the swell of flesh you desperately wanted him to pay more attention to.

His grip tightened for a moment at your waist before he hoisted you into the air. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement before he perched you precariously on the edge of the back of the sofa. The increased height made your face almost level with his, something that Azriel took full advantage of as he captured your lips with his own. Your hands moved to steady yourself on his broad shoulders, fingernails digging into the leather as you swept your tongue against his bottom lip. You opened your thighs in invitation, Azriel stepped closer so that your chest was flush with his. His hips settled between your legs; your thighs clenched on either side as he deepened the kiss. His skilled tongue stroked against your own as you moaned, breathing heavily through your nose.

His fingers tangled into your hair, pulling it aside as his other hand moved down from your waist to trace a path under your dress against the smooth skin of your inner thigh. His mouth left yours, moving to capture the soft skin of your neck, lathing his tongue against it in between delicate bites as his fingers slid higher on your thigh. You rolled your hips, trying to coax him as his fingertips grazed lace. You slid your hands over his shoulders, finding purchase as you pulled him closer. You felt him smile against your neck as he trailed kisses lower, freeing his hand from your hair, as he pulled the delicate fabric of your dress down roughly to expose your chest. You barely registered the sound of it tearing as one hand came up to clasp your breast, thumb running over the peaked nipple as he bent further to capture the other between his lips.

You groaned as he continued to nip and suckle and bite at the pert bud, hazel eyes observed your through dark lashes as you arched into him, bringing one hand up to tangle into his dark locks. He groaned against your skin as you pulled at it, moaning his name in between panted breaths.

“Fuck, Az. Please…” he sucked hard on the nipple caught between his lips, releasing it with an obscene pop and a parting flick of his tongue against the tip.

“Please what, sweetheart?” His mouth moved to capture the nipple under the ministrations of his thumb, the callouses rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin. Words died on the tip of your tongue as the fingers dancing beneath your skirt finally brushed against sodden fabric, rubbing against the slick folds of your pussy. He grunted in approval as he continued to probe, pushing a finger into your aching hole as much as the lace would allow. You moved your hand from his shoulder, taking advantage of his bent position to trace two knuckles against the dark membrane of a wing.

Azriel’s growl was feral as he bucked his hips. His mouth left your breast to kiss up your neck, teeth scratching against the pulse thrumming at your jugular.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a wicked, wicked tease?” His lips once again met your own in a rough, opened-mouthed kiss. You purposely dragged your knuckles back over his wing, it flared out under your touch as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. You pulled back, your lip catching before he released you. He stared at you, panting and pupils blown wide. You smirked as you put your hand back on his shoulder, resolving to explore the sensitive expanse of his wings further another time. You trailed your fingers down, feeling the hard expanse of muscles on his chest and abdomen before settling on the strings of his leather breeches.

“I may have heard something like that before.” You pulled at the knot, struggling to undo it with just one hand. Azriel’s hand left your breast, placing it over your own to still the movements. You furrowed your brow, questioning him with a gaze as he made no move to help.

“There’s something I need to do first.” He stepped back, moving out of your reach as you planted your hands on either side of the sofa to steady yourself. His wings flared for balance as he slowly lowered himself to one knee, then the other, maintaining eye contact with you as his hands slid under your dress. Tracing up to your hips he caught hold of the lace of your panties, slowly pulling them over your thighs and past your knees to drop over your bare feet onto the floor. His eyes never left yours as he rucked the thin skirt up to your waist, leaving you panting and exposed under his gaze. His eyes trailed down slowly as if committing the sight of you to memory, taking special note of the flush on your neck and chest, littered with a constellation of bruises he had sucked onto your skin. Lower still, until his gaze came to rest between your legs, fixated on the way your cunt glistened in the fae light.

“I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of this.” He ran the back of his hand down the side of your thigh as you opened your legs wider for him to nestle his shoulders between your knees. “Of how you taste, what you’d look like underneath me, the sounds you’d make when you cum for me.” He made sure to catch your gaze again as he lowered his mouth towards your slick folds. The hand that wasn't tracing your thigh moved to part your lips as his tongue delves between them. He moaned against you at that first taste. Dragging his tongue in a long sensual stroke up, barely brushing the edge of your clit before returning to tease at your entrance. Biting your lip your hands found his hair, wrenching him closer as you slid your knees over his shoulders. He cupped your arse, rough fingers digging into supple flesh as he fucked you with his tongue. Languid strokes that brushed his nose against your clit every time he pushed in deeper.

You moaned, grinding against his face, the hand not tangled in his hair circled at your nipple still coated in his saliva. His tongue slid up through the wetness to toy with your clit, circling dangerously around the edges before he caught it between his lips, suckling on it hard. You cried out his name at the delicious pressure, bordering on pain, his eyes watching you through dark lashes as you writhe and grind against him. He releases your clit, pulling back after a small gentle parting lick.

“Look at you.” His thumb moves up to trace your clit. He looked debauched, lips swollen and pink, chin soaked with your pleasure. “Such a pretty little cunt.” His thumb slides down through your wetness as he teases it through your puffy folds. “So wet for me, just begging to be fucked.” You felt your pussy clench as he traced past the hole, dipping further down in between your cheeks to toy with the wetness around the puckered ring of muscle there. He returned torturously slowly to where you needed him most, before plunging one finger deep inside of you. You moaned at the intrusion as he curled his finger up, rubbing purposely against the sensitive wall before pulling out. He added another finger to the first, inserting them at the same glacial pace, finally looking away from your face as he watched your walls stretch to accommodate his thick fingers. It wasn’t enough, you needed more of him.

“Please,” you begged, tugging at his hair. “Please Az, I need more. I need…” You trailed off as another finger slid into your tight hole, the pace still slow as he watched you grind your hips against his hand, trying to fuck his fingers deeper and faster into you.

“Whatever my beautiful-“He stopped himself, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, eyes on your face again. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” And with that promise, he lowered his mouth to your cunt again. The speed of his fingers increased, fucking into you with abandon as he caught your clit between his lips once more, licking and sucking, dragging his teeth gently over the sensitive nerves. He skilfully brought you to the precipice of your release, alternating between curling his fingers and lathing his tongue against your clit before slowing down. You keened, undulating your hips against his face and hand. Shadows bled out the sofa, fixing your hips down as he continued to tease.

“I need to see you cum for me.” He growled against you before pressing himself deeper into your folds. Your legs shook as his fingers fucked you harder, as his mouth latched onto your clit with a hard suck. His hazel eyes were fixed on your face, watching as you climbed towards your peak. Your grip tightened on his hair as your release built. Until finally, it snapped. Sending you careening toward the most exquisite bliss you had experienced in your immortal life.

“Azriel! Oh Gods…” Your legs shifted on his shoulders as your muscles clenched under your release, trapping his head between your thighs. He continued to lick and suck you gently as you came down from your pleasure, fingers moving at a more leisurely pace now as he watched you, eyes filled with lust and awe. You relaxed slowly under his ministrations, enough to begin to bring you towards pleasure again despite how oversensitive your nerves felt. You unhooked your legs from his shoulders as you moved your hands towards them, pulling as his leathers. He released you from his mouth, pulling his fingers out and admiring the wetness left on his hand rolling down towards his wrist. He rose, allowing you to capture his face between your hands in a searing kiss. You groaned at the taste of it, both of you mingled together on the tongue he stroked slowly against yours.

Moving your hands down you broke the kiss, nestling into his neck and tracing the dark marks of his tattoos with your tongue. Under both your hands the knot holding his leathers closed came away easily. You pushed your fingers under the tight band, grazing the head of his cock with your thumb. Azriel panted into your shoulder, his grip on your waist tight as you continued to tease the head, rubbing circles slick with pre-cum into the sensitive skin.

Azriel became rigid under your touch. You pulled away from his neck, from marking him with bruises similar to the ones on your own, to look at his face. A dark tendril curled around his ear, whispering to the shadowsinger. His face darkened and he let out a vicious curse, pulling away from you and turning his attention towards the foyer.

You could hear footsteps now, heading in your direction. Azriel was a picture, rock hard against his leathers, hair a mess from where you’d carted your fingers through it, full lips swollen and red. You looked down at yourself, bare breasts peeking through the ripped fabric of your dress, skirt rucked up still baring your cunt to the room.

“Y/N! I know you’re here. You’re keeping us all waiting.” Nesta was in the hallway now, heading towards the only way in or out of the sitting room. You slipped off the back of the sofa, righting your dress and trying to pull the ripped fabric of the bodice closed with little success. Azriel’s eyes had turned calculating, all trace of lingering lust gone as he ran through possible ways to get you both out of this situation. If you were anywhere else, he could have winnowed you away. You cursed whichever of Rhys predecessors put such stringent security measures on the House to a painful eternity in Hel.

Shadows moved to open the large windows next to the fireplace to let in a breeze, biting cold and pushed through the room as Azriel’s siphons glowed. A fire started to burn, smoking more than normal, its acrid smell filling your nose. Azriel gestured to the sofa, the blanket still coiled on the seats.

“Get under.” You moved quickly, throwing yourself down as you used the blanket to cover up your ruined dress and bruises. Azriel strode toward the window, taking one glance back as you tried to settle yourself before he slipped out into the sky and the fading light. You rested your head against the cool arm of the leather, bringing your legs under the blanket as you feigned sleep.

Nesta’s footsteps stopped at the threshold of the open door.

“Y/N.”

You let out a low groan, stretching as you pretended to drag yourself from sleep. You rose so only your face was visible over the back of the sofa, blanket clutched to your chest as you took in Nesta standing in the doorway. Her silver eyes scanned your face as her nose wrinkled at the smell of the poorly burning fire.

“You’re late.” Silver burned in the eyes she fixed on you, angered at the perceived social slight.

“I’m sorry, I was reading. Must have fallen asleep.” Your heart pounded as she assessed you. You hoped she’d put it down to the shock of being rudely woken rather than your anxiety at being almost caught.

“Everyone’s waiting in the library, let’s go.” You nodded in agreement, mind whirring as you tried to figure out a way out of the room, out of your ruined clothes with the reek of arousal still clinging to your skin, without raising any suspicions.

“I’ll um, meet you there. I just want to quickly freshen up and grab the book from my room.” Nesta’s eyes scanned you, before inclining her head and turning to leave.

“Five minutes,” she ordered as she left, “or we’ll start without you.” You collapsed back into the sofa, relief flooding your veins as you tried to calm your breathing. You hadn’t noticed the way her eyes had fixed on the dark lace half-hidden underneath the sofa before she left.

Thank you for reading, to everyone who asked to be added to the tag-list I think I've included everyone I can but some blogs I couldn't tag so apologies if that's yours.

Tag list: @kalulakunundrum @impossibelle @we-were-beautiful @going-through-shit @mulansaucey @sv0430 @naturakaashi @amygdtjhddzvb @airstrip-0 @acourtofsmutandstarlight @myheartfollower @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @valencia-rou @amysangel @furiousbooklover @phoenixgurl030 @imnotsiriusyouare @i-am-infinite @cat-or-kitten @marvelouslovely-barnes @gretavanbobatea @tothestarsandwhateverend @furiousbooklover @esposadomd @meritxellao @kemillyfreitas @juneangel21 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @luvmoo @originalcrusadetrash @mandowhatnow @bangtanbecks @bookslut420 @goldenmagnolias @inkedaztec @opheliaas-stuff @spongehappy @oingo233 @unstablefemme @minicoffee00 @brujitafantomatico @thelov3lybookworm @naturakaashi @nyenye @fandomarchiveilyd @sunnysideup000 @bunnyredgirl @bloodicka @cirwin2013 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @magicstrengthandcourage @justdreamstars @hanatsuki-hime @tsumudoll @jasontoddorjasongrace @saltedcoffeescotch @queerqueenlynn @kodokunarisu-blog @4ambagelbites @byyalady @feyres-fireheart @moonslitluna

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar series #acotar smut #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster

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poledancingdinos · 9 days ago

Text

You're My Person

Pairing: Captain Syverson X OFC (1st person POV)

Word Count: 1139

Warnings: Domestic Fluff

Taglist: @summersong69 @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @rosecentury @shellyshellshell @winter2112rose @secretdream2 @toooldforobsessions @wa-ni @valacircareads @missemrose @liecastillo @identity2212

Masterlist

“Ow! Motherfucker!” I rubbed my head where I’d hit it on the kitchen cabinets. Yes, I hit my forehead on the eye-level kitchen cabinets. No, it unfortunately wasn’t the first time. Yes, I did foresee it happening again.

The washing machine buzzed, giving me an excuse to escape the kitchen and leave behind the sink full of dirty dishes. If I didn’t immediately hang the laundry on the line, I would definitely forget to do it until the next time I tried to start a load and found the washer full of moldy clothing.

When I came back in, nearly tripping over Aika who darted outside right as I opened the door, I found Sy leaning with one shoulder on the kitchen archway. Instinctively, I checked his feet to make sure he wasn’t leaving dirty footprints on the freshly mopped floors.

“Hey, did you want me to get you something before I start the dishes?”

It wasn’t unusual for him to ask me to get him a drink when he came in with grease-covered hands. Having a mini-fridge—or even a second full-sized fridge—in the garage might be something to consider in the future. The extra freezer space would not go to waste with Sy’s appetite resembling that of a starved animal.

“Actually, I need ya to come downstairs with me.”

Confused, I set the empty basket on the table and followed without protest. I was expecting him to show me some new problem that would need to be fixed in the bathroom we were renovating, but instead he caught hold of my wrist and led me the opposite way towards our lounge area.

Sy pointed at a spot in the corner of the sectional couch where all my fluffy blankets were waiting.

“Sit.”

He waited until I obeyed before pointing to a steaming mug of hot chocolate that I hadn’t noticed was waiting for me on the table.

“Drink.”

Finally, he handed over the TV remote.

“Watch. No more work, no more chores, I don’t want ya back upstairs until you’re singin’ about pineapples and not tellin’ the truth.”

“Pineapples aren’t in the theme song,” I corrected without thinking, taking the remote.

“Blueberries then.”

“Those aren’t in the song either.”

To his credit, Sy fixed me with a sharp look but kept the annoyance out of his tone. “You’re doin’ it again.”

I was. I’d been picking fights over the most insignificant things all day—sometimes even with inanimate objects. In my defense though, carefully clearing the jammed paper didn’t keep the printer from eating more pages but threatening to throw it off the roof sure as hell seemed to finally make it run smoothly.

With a sigh, I let my head drop on the back of the couch. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Thank you for all this. You can go back to what you were doing.”

Making myself comfortable with one blanket around my shoulders and another over my lap—a necessity even at the height of summer since the whole house was on Sy temperature—I picked up the hot chocolate from the table. I gently blew on the hot milk before taking a small sip. Sy had made it just how I like it with lots of cocoa, sugar and a tiny pinch of salt instead of the pre-made mix.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when I noticed Sy hadn’t moved. He stood in the same spot, arms crossed over his chest and frowning at the ground.

“Nothin’,” Sy scratched his scruffy cheek before putting his hands in his pockets, “I’m just realizin’ I have no clue what your favorite show is even about.”

Sy wasn’t really the binge-watching type. Actually, he wasn’t really the watching type period. Occasionally he would hear about a new show or movie that he specifically wanted to watch but other than that he normally did his own thing when I watched my shows. That was why we had our main living room upstairs and a movie area downstairs.

“I’ve explained it before, haven’t I?” I took another sip of my hot chocolate, humming in satisfaction.

“Sort of,” he shrugged. “You said it was a guy pretendin’ to be a psychic but I never understood why the boxset had a pineapple on it.”

“The lead actor ad-libbed a line with a random prop pineapple in the pilot and the showrunners ran with it. The blueberry is from a line in the second season and it refers to their little blue hatchback.”

There were numerous magnets on the fridge with silly quotes from the show or fanart which was how Sy knew about the fruity references but not the actual plot of the show. I also had a habit of humming the theme song around the house when I was feeling particularly perky.

“Huh.” There was another moment of silence before Sy seemed to shake off whatever thoughts were going through his head. “You need me to put a DVD in for ya?”

“No, I think I’ll stream it while it’s available. That way I don’t need to get out of my blanket burrito to change seasons.”

With a nod, Sy kissed the top of my head and left me to pick out an episode. I didn’t really know which one to watch so I found a number generator on my phone and had it pick one for me. I wasn’t currently doing a rewatch so there was no reason to follow any particular order.

To my surprise, Sy returned with snacks and a beer right as I prepared to press play. He had swapped out of his work clothes for a pair of grey sweats and an old army shirt.

“I thought you had stuff you wanted to finish in the garage?”

He dropped by my side with a groan. “Changin’ the breaks can wait until next weekend. I’ll sit with you for the evenin’ and take care of the rest of the chores tomorrow.”

“What about supper?”

“Food will be here in an hour.” One large arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Now, what do I gotta know before we start?”

Nervous energy passed through me and I had to actively try to contain my excitement.

“There’s nothing specific to know for this episode but in general? We never skip the opening or ending credits, I will sing them every time and if you see the hidden pineapple you have to point it out.”

That seemed to pique Sy’s interest. If anything, it would give him something to focus on if he got bored halfway through which I really hoped wouldn’t happen. He set a bowl of popcorn on his lap and nodded for me to start the episode. Smiling to myself, I sank deeper into his side and leaned my head on Sy’s shoulder.

I was feeling better already.

#captain syverson #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #cpt syverson #cpt syverson fic #cpt syverson fanfiction #henry cavill #cpt syverson fanfic

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bonkbeliever · 1 year ago

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Getting off to the thought of you ── ★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! [NSFW Solo!Scout x GN!Reader]

(\ (\

(„• ֊ •„) ♡

━O━O━━━━━

his pov, masturbation, object humping, excessive cum, overstimulation, anal fingering, sub scout/dom reader, reader isn't in the room, long oneshot, sort of dumbification?

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For the first time in a while, RED lost and Scout had no idea who's fault it was, but honestly? He couldn't care less. He was way too tired out of his mind to remember how many times his team had to respawn thanks to BLU, and was more annoyed over not getting to use his bat throughout that entire mission.

He plopped onto his bean bag.

Might as well clean his bat anyway, just to kill time before dinner, despite it being perfectly fine.

After a few minutes or so, he started getting extremely bored. As he typically does.

Scout sighed, feeling content with the job he's done so far, and got up from his seat.

"A-ah!"

He paused.

His eyes widen from that sudden chill.

He looked down to see his bat wedged in between his legs.

He pushed the bat down.

Then up.

Then down.

Then up.

The cold metal sent shivers down his abdomen.

He did it again,

And again,

And again.

Until he was now shoving the bat in and out, sliding it rapidly against his clothed cock.

His face quickly relaxed and his eyelids gradually lowered to a halfway point, knowing that with every hump he shoved into his baseball bat, his lips would automatically wet themselves with drool.

God, he became horny fast.

Like, really fast.

He plonked back on his bean bag and was already spreading his legs far and wide in the air, pumping the bat in an influx of upward and downward motions.

He thrusted into every part of it: from the spherical top that kneaded his balls, to the clyindrical middle that aroused his penis with lubricious rubs, to the bumpy bands at the bottom that gave his foreskin that extra friction.

The pleasure was indescribable.

Scout stuck the head of his dick into the concave dent of the bat, and his whine was instantaneous.

That was definitely his favorite spot.

The way his whole cock just glides onto it, up-and-down, side-to-side. Man, if he were forced to go through respawn over stealing medkits just to experience this high for the rest of time? He absolutely would.

It felt so good to a point where he laid his body further into the bean bag, imprinting his silhouette.

So, he stayed there.

Simply humping it.

Meanwhile, his entire body began to shake and with how fast he was going, it made the bat feel like a proper vibrator, prompting his skin to just sweat more and more, making his clothes cling to him like vines on a brick wall — and the wet fabric made it feel all the better.

The variations of sharp edges and soft curves made his dumb brain go haywire.

It reminded him of you,

So, so much.

Detailed memories of your supple curves came surging into his brain. He loved your raw and rough skin, and how they contrast your fluffy rolls.

Oh how he wished he was going into you, desperately fucking your insides like the rabbit he was. He wants to be all hot, sweaty, and messy whilst you remained in your perfectly dreamy state, softness written all over you, which was enough silent praise for him to absolutely lose it.

God, you're so beautiful to him

You turned him on like crazy.

Though, the bat does pale in comparison to you. Obviously an inanimate object could never do the things you did, but it met his needs for now.

He pushed his slit into the edges of the dent, imagining it were your nail ruthlessly teasing him.

He thought long and hard about this sex position he was desperate to try, but feared it would be too embarrassing.

He imagined himself being craddled in your arms. You carried him bridal style as you sat comfortably on the bed, the pillows cushioning your adorable ass.

He scrunched his eyes, picturing you toying with him. Playing with the precum that slicked his dick by pumping his phallic penis at an agonizing pace, but momentarily award him with the fast motions of your hand once you reached his tip. Echoes of genitals squelching mixed in with the faint noises of his whimpers and your loving laugh. He wished he could record that, play it on repeat as a constant reminder of who he belongs to.

He wanted to lap his tongue onto your nipple, senselessly suck on it. He wanted your ridges and bumps to be soaked in his spit, to rid him of any air when he suctions his lips on your chest. The idea of you abrupty sucking in your breath because of his saliva made Scout ooze clear, colorless, viscous fluid.

Imagining your bewitching eyes looking down on him as you instructed him to stare back into yours, saying that he must beg for the right to be kissed if he wanted a mere peck of your precious lips.

And he wanted all of that to happen with his wrists and ankles bounded by strings of rope.

He was so desperate to be tortured and teased by you, wishing he were immobile so he'd be forced to enjoy and endure everything you gave him — whether it'd make him pray for more or whine for less was all up to you.

Scout clung to all the erotic things you did to make him excessively cum everywhere on his pretty body. And because of that, he willingly gave you full control of his autonomy.

He loved it when you gave him orders, told him what to do 'cause there's no one else he'd oblige to. Like, what position he should be in or when he was allowed to cum.

However, outside of you two, he hated it when others felt entitled enough to do the same — with tasks unrelated to sex, of course — because it was downright annoying. He hated how small it made him feel.

Scout being the youngest and the one who's bossed around the most because he's the youngest didn't help his case, and he knows how everyone around him takes advantage of that.

But when you were bossing him around? Oh, it was all he ever wanted you to do.

He didn't know how you managed to get him to do as you pleased, partially because his brain was feeling too good to care, but it honestly fascinated him. To turn his horrifically 'macho' ego into one of pure devotion was something only you had the power to do.

Probably because you were never harsh with him, never belittled him if he did something slightly off or embarrassingly wrong. You showed him kindness like no other and he's not gonna lie, your patience is insanely attractive to him (on top of everything else that he finds attractive about you).

Whenever you asked him to do the simplest things from grabbing your towel to extreme ones where you made him put his ass up in the air with his face down in a pillow, it was always in this gentle tone that made him feel so incredibly loved.

Scout broke out of his thoughts and stopped humping the bat.

It wasn't as satisfying anymore.

He needed skin.

He wanted yours on him but you weren't here.

So, his would just have to suffice.

Scout threw the bat to the side, making it clang onto the floor, and quickly unbuckled his belt to let his masculinity free.

He watched it for a moment, his precum spewing and spurting out on its own, trickling its transparent, watery substance down his penis.

The fact you weren't even physically here but the thought of you alone managed to make Scout's dick overflow with pre-ejaculatory fluid was insane to him.

Now, with his pants on the other side of the room and his buck teeth digging into his shirt, he revealed his chest to the open air. One hand squeezing and pulling his nub, the other jerking his dick at a god knows what speed.

His hand was a blur, and everything was going way too fast, but all he knows is that he's dripping wet, moaning as loud as he possibly can — not giving a single shit if anyone heard him — and on the brink of cumming all over himself.

He can feel it.

The hot liquid making its way through to the outside world.

His hat flew off of him, unveiling the brown hairs that stuck to his sweaty temple. His face, the same shade of red as his shirt. His dog tags jingled with the rise and fall of every huff he took, and he moved the finger that toyed his nipple to instead play with his slit, imagining it was yours.

Fuck, is this what you felt?

The perfect warmth of his glans, the silky precum blanketing his entire tip and the intense joy of seeing more of it squirt out with every press and pull. No wonder you loved handjobs.

Scout was nearing the inevitable, and swore to overwhelm himself over and over again once he came.

And overwhelm he did.

Because the moment he envisioned the ghost of your lips wrapped around his dick, a flood of cum came pouring out and a guttural groan broke out from the depths of his lungs.

But he didn't stop.

No, he kept at that same swift pace and went so fast, he literally rolled off the bean bag and onto the cold floor.

Just cumming everywhere.

It was a never-ending stream of semen, and the only thing that muffled the sounds of it splashing onto the wooden tiles were his wanton whines.

Now he was 100% sure that everyone at the base could hear him, and was 1000% sure that they'd all give him shit about it tonight.

They wouldn't understand, 'course they can't. Only Scout was lucky enough to be yours, and the others could never find someone half as perfect as you are, it was near impossible.

Actually, scratch that — it was impossible.

Scout compared you to those one-of-a-kind, limited edition Tom Jones figurines that people would have to actively kill for to even be deserving of it.

But he knew that all he had to do was be your good, obedient boy.

And as your boy, he knew he didn't have to care about how the others felt.

How could he when he's on the floor, masturbating like he's an animal in heat, too dumb to think of anyone but you. Not even realising that he's been moaning your name this entire time, begging for you to touch him, pull his hair, and let him cum as if you were there all along.

So much so, he began to prod at his own hole. Scout smarmed his middle finger with his cum and tried to get an inch of his finger inside him, barely managing to push any of it in but he reached for his g-spot anyway.

He fingered himself simultaneously with the pumps of his penis. Every jerking motion fuzzed his brain, and his walls would tense and contract, blocking out any movement but he still curled his finger deeper into himself. Strangely enough, he found himself enjoying the coarseness of his bandages when they lightly grazed his ass.

Then he found the spot,

And he pressed down on his prostate hard.

All Scout could see was his final blow of cum explode out of him, it sprayed all over his stomach and specks that flew into the air landed on his face, eventually descending into the back of his throat.

His middle finger left his insides with a 'pop' and he carefully let go of his still-erect dick, and both sensations left him whimpering.

Scout blinked and a satisfied tear rolled down his cheek, one that was coated in a mix of sweat, drool, and cum.

His eyes drifted to the clock and realised that he had been going at it for over an hour now.

How no one walked in the middle of all of that was beyond him. He honestly expected someone to barge in and tell him to shut the fuck up already (had it been you who said that, he definitely would've cum more than he already has).

His stomach growled, as if it knew what time it was.

Scout sighed, ruffled his hair with his hand, which was still drenched in sperm, and sat up.

Oh, fuck.

Everything from his legs to the bat to the surface he sat on had traces of him smeared all over them.

He tried to get up but his feet gave way, all his attempts had him wobbling on the floor as if he were suddenly made of jelly.

Speaking of which, jelly does sound real good right about now.

He miserably reached out for the tissues on his bedside drawer, acting as if his legs were completely severed.

Then suddenly, a noise.

Many noises.

Noises that sounded like footsteps.

Fuck.

Several footsteps.

All of which were coming towards him.

ShitShitShit!

And as if God came to punish him, his door knob turned.

"Ah, crap..."

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And that's how Mad Milk came to be! JK (ᗒᗜᗕ)՛̵̖ hahahaha

But wow, I wrote all of that solely because I saw this really cute drawing of Scout humping his bat and I couldn't not write something based off of it (⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)

Also thank you to the first person who reblogged my last smutshot! I realised that some of my ideas work better with a gender neutral reader, especially since they focus more on Scout's physical pleasure instead of the reader's, so I'll try and do that more often if the reader being afab makes no difference to the story!

I'm so into the idea that Scout's libido is crazy high and has so much pent-up cum stored inside of him, so to make him overstimulate himself like that was sooo adorable for me (๑>◡<๑)~♡ I just love guys like that, hopefully I get to have one irl ( ˶•̀ _•́ ˶)!

[Update: I found the drawing again! Thought I'd share it with you guys <3]

(I'm trying to think of ideas where the reader is recieving but because I'm such a giver, it's hard for me to come up with anything ;_; AHH I can't help but think of ways to ruin Scout (×_×;) Sorry, you guys </3)

#tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout x reader #team fortress 2 #scout x reader #tf2 oneshots #tf2 headcanons #gn reader #gn dom male sub #male sub

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xx-psych0-rabbit-xx · 4 months ago

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just found out mushroom from the objectified comic apparently was confirmed autistic its a beautiful year to be a low empathy girl

speaking of low empathy its the year of low empathy headcanons for me.so many guys that fit that so well this year ♪

#i did think her breakdown in the latest comic of her n dynamites pov felt autistic bc so far she was mostly emotionally unexpressive #but finding out shes confirmed oh yeah makes sense LMAO she told dynamite to start eating ppl so fast like 'well youll die if you dont so'#girl care for wtv their relationship is.wiki said they were said to have some degree of a qpr going on which yeah ill believe that #everyone who dynamite is eating.not her problem? lol #also on the topic of object autism:fanny inanimate insanity.no comment on empathy regarding him so no main post mention #but he absolutely is LOL me n the mutual were talking abt it.that maze scene abt marshy was CRAZYYY why did he do that

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whumpisgoodwhumpislife · 3 months ago

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Thankful

Masterlist

It's so hard deciding whose pov I should write... So I wrote both.

The vampire had no idea what was happening.

He had lost all sense of time since the hunters had clogged his insides in silver, completely overwhelmed by the neverending agony. He had been burned by silver before, of course, but never for so long, and never inside. He couldn’t reach it, couldn’t get away, couldn’t even move.

He had been completely taken by surprise by the sound of footsteps and the scream that followed, used to the complete silence and loneliness. Between the human and the creature, the latter was by far the most terrified by the encounter. Being completely blind and helpless, he was vulnerable, barely more than an inanimate object. He had no idea of the nature of the newcomer ; were the hunters back ? Was it just a visitor ? The vampire never dared hoping that he could be friendly. The idea didn't even cross his mind.

But the human came back, slowly, warily. The creature could smell him, the sweet scent of blood so close yet so far. He didn’t really paid him much attention, his mind overwhelmed by the constant pain. Until the pain was gone.

Not really, it still felt like his stomach was burning.

But the silver wasn’t there anymore. In comparison, the pain of his insides being cut open was nothing. He was glad to take it.

The hunger was still there, a gnawing urge despite his absence of stomach. He knew he wouldn't be able to heal before he fed. He was simply too weak.

Apparently the human knew that. A few days later, he felt him press on the wound, flinching in pain. And it started burning again. He squirmed and whined, eager to express how painful it was, but the stranger didn’t took away the silver before the wound was closed, cauterized.

He was still in pain, but now he felt like he was regaining control over his body, now able to concentrate on his limbs without the distraction of a gaping wound on his stomach. He vaguely heard the human speaking, but he didn’t catch the meaning.

It was painful, stretching for the first time in… days ? Weeks ? Months ? The vampire had no idea. But moving felt like both an ordeal and a reward. He barely managed to stretch his arm, searching blindly on the floor. Where was it ? Where was his teddy bear ? Had the hunters taken his only comfort with them ? He desperately hoped not, tears starting to fill his eyes again.

The vampire flinched as something touched his chest, but he immediately recognised the familiar scent of his plushie. He grabbed it with both hands, burying his face in the worn fabric, a chirp of relief escaping him. A low purring started to resonate in his chest, the sound hoarse and wheezing, but the happiest he could manage.

He was so thankful. In only a few days, the human had done more for him than others in his whole life. He knew he had done nothing to deserve it, but was too tired and starved to worry about it. For the moment, he was just trying to manage the flow of emotions overcoming him.

#vampire whumpee #mute whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump

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lilacs-stash · 1 year ago

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He just wanna slow dance with them

#Every now and then I think about Legs shipping from Baseball's pov and cry #Ii legs shipping #bickel #Basecase #nickcase #I love doomed polyamory 👍#ii baseball #ii nickel #ii suitcase #inanimate insanity #Look I can draw! Art tag #object posting

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pokimoko · 3 months ago

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The Poetics of Space - A Gravity Falls Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 3/3

Word Count: ~44K

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: The Mystery Shack & Ford Pines, The Mystery Shack & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Bill Cipher & Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, The Mystery Shack & The Pines Family, Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines (One-Sided), Bill Cipher/Ford Pines (also one-sided), (do you even need to ask in which direction the one-sided is pointing)

Characters: The Mystery Shack - Character, Ford Pines, Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket, Bill Cipher, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Background & Cameo Characters

Summary:

“What was it like when you lived here?” Mabel asked, gesturing at the Shack.

Ford let out a gentle chuckle. “Very different, I assure you. If these walls could talk, I'm sure they would tell some stories.”

Oh, if only he knew.

—

(or: the Mystery Shack has many secrets, and just as many memories. Afterall, a lot can happen over four decades within the space of four walls.)

Tags: Mystery Shack (Gravity Falls), Mystery Shack POV, setting as a character, Haunted Houses, POV Outsider, POV Nonhuman, Pre-Canon, Canon-adjacent, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Golden Child Syndrome, Manipulative Bill Cipher, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Possession, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stan Pines Has Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reconciliation, Implied Autistic Ford Pines, implied AroAce Ford Pines, Unrequited Love, Ford Pines and Mabel Pines Bonding, Pines Family Feels (Gravity Falls), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by House of Leaves - Mark Z. Danielewski, (very very VERY loosely), If These Walls Could Talk They Would Give You Therapy, Sentient Houses, Sentient Buildings, POV Inanimate Object, its/its pronouns, Protective Mystery Shack, Sentient Mystery Shack - Freeform

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fic #fanfic #my fanfic #my fic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #mystery shack #ford pines #stanford pines #stan pines #stanley pines #fiddleford mcgucket #bill cipher #dipper pines #mabel pines #let's just say i--like most of tumblr--fell deep back into gravity falls. deep enough to write a 42k fanfic about it #but instead of using any of the main characters i decided hey! let's give the mystery shack sentience and emotional baggage #(though to be fair it is in its own way a main character. it shows up in nearly every episode)#i started writing this thinking it'd be a oneshot. i was wrong. i was so wrong. it is now the longest fic I've written in almost 2 years #the pines just kept wanting to talk and the shack just kept wanting to remind me how big a role it actually played in the series #if the shack looks wrong in the banner it's because the reference image i got from the show lied to me with its weird perspective #by having the offshoot at the wrong end. but then again...that definitely fits the shifting architecture of the shack in the fic so...#sentient houses #haunted houses

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tom-hunter-summah · 4 months ago

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Born in the Wrong Era pt. 3

a/n: it's finally here! sorry it took so long and thank you to @iluveveryone for sending your ask. i hope all y'all enjoy it!

edit: I linked pt. 2 because I forgot to last night.

warnings: shouting/screaming, flirty best friends, mentions of death/trauma, mentions of mr. martin, hitting (not a person but inanimate object(s))

word count: 2k

pt. 2

Reader’s POV

A frustrated noise leaves your mouth. You really wish you hadn't let Wally get into your head about Bea. You knew he had a point but could Bea have really been that different? Insistent, maybe but not stubborn. And it was always for the other person's good because she knew their potential. Bea was the only person in your life that actually listened to you. But this was her son. He knew her first. And in some weird way you knew Wally. You knew that he loves Bea with everything he has and then some.

"Damn it. Hey Siri?"

Siri Dings.

"How do you apologize to a ghost?"

Tuesday-Wally’s POV

“Can we change? Or do we simply live in the heart of the mulberry bush destined to return where we once started?”

As Mr. Martin started on whatever pseudo-sophical rant he was going on Wally perked up. The dead have no choice to change do they? Wally remember’s Charley going on about this movie with Cybill Shepherd and Robert Downey Jr and how her dead husband was able to cross over after living as him. Wally knows he’s missing some details but that’s besides the point. Almost every ghost movie ever made has some plot-point that the dead have to cross over and they have to grow and all that other shit before they can cross over and start their afterlife.

Wally had been here for 40 years. That’s forty years longer than he ever wanted to be in high school. But how is he to change?

“Wally? Is there something you would like to share?”

“Huh?”

Wally didn’t even pay attention to the last five minutes of whatever Mr. Martin was spewing this morning. Now there are many pairs of expectant eyes on him.

“We’re debating whether or not people can change. Dead or Alive. I’d like to hear your thoughts Wally.”

Wally goes to open his mouth but his8 voice isn’t the one that’s heard.

“He’d have to have a brain for that.” Oh Rhonda, always quick with a jab to the ego.

“Well you should start with getting a new heart, Rhonda, because the one you have now is cold and shriveled.”

Rhonda breaks out one of her sarcastic grins. “Finally someone sees me.”

There are a couple of chuckles from the circle before Mr. Martin clears his throat.

“Wally, please continue”

Wally gets one more taunt in by squinting at Rhonda before he starts talking.

“I think when you die, you break the circle around the mudberry bush as you put it–

Wally catches Charley mouthing something out the corner of his eye but can’t make out what it was.

“And can give you the room you need to change.”

There are a couple of murmurs of agreement around the circle which made Wall feel proud of himself.

“That’s interesting Wally. But before we break the circle; why don’t we move to the center of it?”

This made Wally think. “Maybe. Thanks Mr. M.”

Mr. Martin gives Wally a tight-lipped smile that never seems to bring comfort to Wally but what’s new.

Soon the morning circle is dismissed but Wally lingers for a minute after everyone else left. Or so he thought.

“Hey Wally?”

It was Janet. Even after 40 years Wally still wasn’t used to her 60’s fashion. Her light pink gingham dress with matching ballet flats and white gloves on her hands. Compared to the others in the group it was a silent rebellion that was all Janet’s. Which is pretty rad if you ask Wally.

“Hey Janet what’s up?”

“I was wondering; what was on your mind earlier? You don’t really space out like that.”

Wally hesitated. “Uhh.. I was tired from… working out earlier.” Wally barely believed himself.

Janet’s furrowed brows had him coming up with another lie in seconds. Before he could though; Mr8. Martin called Janet away.

Before Janet left the gym she turned and waved goodbye. “We’ll talk later Wally!”

Wally returns the wave and once Janet and Mr. Martin are out of sight, Wally lets out a sigh of relief.

“Hey Wally you okay?”

It was Charley this time, luckily Wally is able to keep his shock to a minimum.

“Yeah, it’s just sometimes the morning circle makes me want to…”

Charley interjects. “Die all over again?”

Wally snaps his fingers and points. “Yeah! I mean I know he just wants to help but Jeez sometimes it’s agonizing.”

Charley laughs. “Well, Hippie dude has a sub and they’re watching a movie. Wanna come?”

Wally pretends to think about it. “Is it Rudy?”

Charley sighs in defeat. “I don’t know what movie it is but I’m almost 100% sure an AP Lit Class will not watch “Rudy”.”

“Where is there “enjambment” in “Finding Nemo”, Charley?”

“Where is the ‘allusion’ in ‘Rudy’, Wally?”

“What are you talking about, all Rudy does is dream!”

Charley pinches the bridge of his nose. “Allusion not ILLusion!”

“You’re literally saying the same word.”

“I- you know what? Sure. Anyway if you get tired of working out you know where I’ll be.”

Charley walks off, leaving Wally alone with his thoughts. He needs to find some answers. And there’s only one person who can give him that.

Reader’s POV

There’s a sense of comfort you feel when “Bad Reputation” flows through your ears. You wish you were more like her. Letting things roll off your back and not listening to what others say. You feel for Wally, you do. You’re not going to agree with your parents about everything but to insinuate that they don’t care? Ridiculous. Wally’s feelings are still valid though. Eye twitch inducing but valid nonetheless. You don’t know how to summon him (and you’re not sure you want to know?) but when you see him you’ll apologize for being impudent. You’re snapped out of your thoughts when “Fat Bottomed Girls” starts to play and your eyes widen. It’s not Queen that shocks you so much as this may 8be a clue as to what his type is. Not that it matters. Not that you care.

The next thing you know there’s a giant pair of hands waving in your face, luckily they’re attached to your good friend Jacques. You take off your headphones so you can hear him.

“Hey Jaques.”

“Hey dorkalicious!” You chuckle. “Where were you yesterday?”

“Just getting tickets to Horror Con.”

You stop in your tracks. “You’re joking.”

Jacque fights a smile as he shakes his head. “Waited in line all day for these. I can’t wait to go next week.”

“Wait tickets? As in, plural?”

“I’m pretty sure “tickets” means more than one ticket.”

You have to jump a little bit to properly hug him because he’s so damn tall but you can’t contain your happiness.

While horror isn’t your biggest interest you’re utterly obsessed with the cinematography of it all. Plus dressing up has always been a favorite pastime.

“Merci mon cher ami!”

Jacques blushes. “Alright, alright get down before you start licking my face dork. And stop speaking to me in french, it shifts my beret.”

You laugh as you pull away from him. “Oh shut up you’re like a quarter french.”

“My name makes it half.”

Before you can continue to call him on his bullshit, the bell for class rings and you have to go to third period which is Mr. Anderson’s class.

“Oh Jacq, do we have a sub in Anderson’s class?”

“How’d you know?”

“ I didn’t. I was hoping for it though. I had a weird interaction with Anderson outside of class.”

“Is it because you guys argued about which decade was best again?”

“It’s not my fault we had better movies! Plus peak television. I’m still looking for who shot JR. And there was history made when Alexis called Krystle a bitch. The first time it was ever said on primetime TV.”

Jacques sighs, filled with regret. “Why did I even ask? Look for whatever happened, I’m glad you can avoid addressing it for another 24 hours. Just like I will do to you if you don’t shut up.”

“Like you could go that long without talking to your personal musipedia.”

“They have this thing called shazam.”

“Yeah but I’m cuter.”

Jacques ruffles pats your head. “Yes you are. Now go make me proud okay?” You smile at him “C+ it is.”

Jacques dabs fake tears from his eyes. “I’ve never been more proud.”

“Do I want to know?” It’s Ms. Fields. You and Jacques' favorite teacher.

You answer. “It’s best if you don’t.”

She nods her head. “Good to know. C’mon Jacques, today we’re going over the war of 1812.”

“So nap time?”

You slightly shove him into the class which makes Ms. Fields chuckle.

“Be good.”

“Bite me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sorry about him. I’ll catch you later Ms. Fields.”

“I’ll see you in class, hon.”

You nod and keep making your way to class. You decide to switch out Wally’s tape with your own. You love Wally’s taste but the music definitely got better later in the decade. Which is why when you hear “Raspberry Beret” You smile.

You walk into mr. Anderson's class still smiling, causing everyone to look at you. Including the dead.

You quickly make your way to your seat. You wait a couple of moments and are shocked when you don’t see Wally at your desk. You turn your head and your brows can’t help but furrow when you don’t see him.

You’re slightly disappointed but you figure he’ll come around when he’s ready.

Wally’s POV

They still make walkmans? No, they still have cassette tapes? Wally only half circles Retro as to not draw attention. He sees the walkman hanging on the waist of their jeans, and gently pulls it up. As he inspects the walkman he can tell it looks a little worn; like they bought it from a secondhand store.

Then he sees It. “W.Clark” written in black sharpie.

He drops the walkman but catches it last minute, so as not to break it. There’s too much going on in Wally’s brain to process what any of this means.

Wally takes the walkman and storms out of the classroom. He puts the headphones on his head only to hear “Never Gonna Give You Up” which is the icing on the cake to his frustration.

He knows you and Bea are close but that close? Wally knows it’s been 40 years but it still feels like yesterday. That tackle. It was so fast Wally barely felt the weight of the Behemoth that ended his life. It doesn’t mean it stung any less. His moms last words to him.

“Make me proud”

It comes flooding back at the memory. That anger, the exhaustion and defeat.

Letting these emotions consume him, with a scream Wally’s fist connects with a locker. And again. And again. He eventually has enough and has his forearms resting on the lockers while he catches his breath. Somehow, while his head is hanging low, his headphones catch his ear just in time to hear the beginning of “Deacon Blues”.

He chuckles. “The kid’s got taste.”

“Of course I do. And who are you calling Kid?”

Wally’s head turns in Retro’s direction. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I had to take a leak. The bigger question is, how the hell are you able to listen to my music?”

“I can interact with the physical world but I don’t make an impact on it. So I can listen to your surprisingly good mixtape but I can’t skip a song I don’t like.”

Retro’s eyebrows furrow. “That doesn’t make sense. I mean have you tried with the walkman? It is yours afterall.”

Wally shakes his head with a chuckle. “I don’t think it’s going to make a diff–

Wally is cut off by his own shock as deacon blues cuts to September.

“See I told you.”

If Wally could pass out he would.

“Walls, you okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“I knew it. You’re the answer.”

“To what?”

“You’re going to help me cross over.”

#born in the wrong era #wally clark #wally clark x reader #wally clark x gender neutral reader #milo manheim #school spirits

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kaybreezy3000 · 1 year ago

Text

Bad Things (Five Hargreeves/Reader)

~Psychopathy is a neuropsychiatric disorder marked by deficient emotional responses, lack of empathy, the inability to distinguish between right and wrong, poor behavioral controls, and behaviors that contradict social norms which then commonly result in persistent antisocial deviance and criminal behavior.

Enter, Five Hargreeves, everyone's favorite little psycho.

(Chapter Three Post)

---If you need to go back to read the summary and the first two chapters first, hit the link below.

Link to Chapters 1-2

Warnings and tags: Mental disintegration, psychological trauma, effects of isolation, masturbation, non-consensual voyeurism, explicit sexual content, bondage, POV altering, touch starved, obsessive behavior, inanimate object love, and many other sexually deviant themes all mixed with a lovely twist that you will hopefully enjoy...

---In this chapter, we start the POV switches, and they will be made clearer by large page breaks in-between.

Chapter Three: Creep

Running through his options, Five makes the quick determination that after what he just did, he can’t stay here. He needs to get the girl back inside her apartment, then he will get Dolores and together they will run.

Thanks to his fake ID, nobody knows who he really is, but as soon as the girl can, she’s going to call the police and have them search the apartments across from hers. His family will figure out what he’s been doing, and Five can already hear them going on and on about how disgusting he is.

Everyone already thinks he is a psycho, and this further proves it. His siblings may not throw him under the bus because doing so would obviously tie him to them, but it’s still possible that someone could figure out that the once famous missing boy Number Five Hargreeves is not dead like the world thought and he is not at all the person he was before he disappeared.

The possibility of the whole world knowing about the monster he has become is only adding to the heartbreak that the people he has cared about and fought for his entire life will hate him more than they already do. All this has Five questioning everything.

They were all he lived for, and he lost them, and now this.

“You really screwed yourself this time you sick asshole,” Five angrily curses as he starts hauling the unconscious girl across the parking lot towards her building.

As if all that isn’t bad enough, Five realizes that he just ensured himself a lifetime of running from the law. This means no more trying to pretend to be a part of something he’s not, but it also means that he will have no other option but to resort to other, much less legal means of surviving.

He failed at life again and there’s a big part of him that just wants to throw in the towel and let them lock him away. But the same part of him that wouldn’t give up for the last sixty years is still there in the back of his mind screaming at him to keep fighting.

Committed to his plan, Five is about to start crossing the short distance to the girl’s building when a man in a janitorial uniform comes out the back door. Being taken off guard by his sudden appearance, Five inelegantly drops to his knees behind a parked car with the girl folding down with him on the dirty cement.

As the man crosses the lot, Five does his best to calm his heavy breaths to a more manageable level. He hasn’t had the chance to let his racing heart slow down since his extremely drunk sprint down the stairs.

Not being his usual stealthy, in control self and not being able to easily blink himself out of this situation is enough to make Five’s mounting panic much worse. The fact that he just heard the door electronically lock after the guy closed it isn’t helping either. It didn’t even occur to him that her building might need an entrance code.

“God, damnit!” he quietly hisses.

He could slip in behind someone, but that’s not likely at this hour, and not with the girl passed out in his arms. Hitting random buttons in the hopes that someone will buzz him in will get the police called or it will wake the whole building, so that’s a big fat no.

As the other man pulls out of the lot, Five makes a split-second decision based on his most recent plan being blown all to hell. He does not want to leave the girl outside lying on the ground, especially in this neighborhood. He’ll have to leave her in his apartment. He’s screwed one way or the other. It really doesn’t matter where he puts her as long as it is safe. He’ll grab only what he has to, and he’ll be gone before she fully comes to.

Five pushes his back against the car, using it to help balance him as he gets them both upright again. Then swooping the girl up in his arms, the alcohol gets the best of him and Five accidentally stumbles backwards into the car before moving forward towards his own building.

“I am never drinking again,” he declares, weaving with each step he takes. Five is trying so hard to push past how dizzy he feels, but drunk is drunk and it’s getting worse.

After the girl blew him off tonight, Five had the grand plan of passing out in a super sloshed stupor. The whiskey he tried to drown his sorrows in is catching up with him by this point and he’s realizing that finishing the whole bottle was just one more bad decision to add to the many others he’s made tonight.

When Five opens the lower-level door to his complex, he can see that no one is in the shabby hallway that leads to the elevator, and it seems like his shitty luck is changing because the thing is working, and it’s already on the ground floor.

There’s no way he would have made it up the stairs at this point. Heavy feet scuffing along across the worn tiles, Five moves inside, throwing his elbow against the button for the seventh floor.

As soon as the doors close, he woozily drops his weight back on the wall, and sets the girl down, keeping one arm around the girl’s waist to hold her upright and the other angled across her chest to keep her from tipping forward.

Five can hardly grasp how quickly he just fucked everything up. A few minutes ago, he was in the throes of personal passion, about to blow his load all over his costly dress pants, and the next he sealed the deal that he was completely ruining his already ruined life.

Five is being consumed by his deeply depressing thoughts about himself as the old elevator doors close and it groans to life. The girl’s flowery smelling hair is rubbing up against the side of his cheek, and he can feel the heat of her body pressing back against him in a very tormenting way considering his self-self-absorbed cock brain hasn’t caught up to speed yet that he is not sitting there in his kitchen with his hand on his dick about to destroy his own lap with jizz.

His partial erection from that sad whack fest is wedged right between this girl’s warm cheeks, and it’s just like he was imagining positioning himself on her Monday night.

Now that Five has the girl’s body pressed up next to his while he’s holding her in what many would think looks like it’s a very loving embrace, the truth that he has actually been violating her by watching her and getting his rocks off is impossible to ignore.

You can’t imagine something if it’s right in front of you physically touching you. The entire fantasy he’s been creating in his head just completely disintegrated.

Now things just got very real and it’s not in a good way.

“I am so sorry I am doing this to you,” he hotly breathes, his forehead falling even more against the girl’s shoulder as he forces down the growing sickness in his stomach.

With extreme sadness, Five thinks about the trauma he just inflicted on this girl. Five knows trauma and his own experiences with it is what resulted in him being unable to put himself out there to have anything worthwhile in his life.

He had wanted nothing more than to know what it was like to passionately hold someone he cared about and who also cared about him, but the horror of how it’s happening right now is unbelievable. It seems like this must be happening to someone else.

Five is so tormented by all this, and intoxicated, that he doesn’t realize he hasn’t been holding any pressure on the girls’ neck since he carried her inside. Her knuckles make unexpected contact, hitting the bridge of his nose. Five eyes instantaneously pinch shut to the intense sensation of shooting pain that makes everything in his face burn and his eyes flood with tears.

The girl’s furious screech reverberates inside the elevator. “Get off me!”

Taking Five’s momentary inability to function, her other arm wiggles free from the arm he has around her waist. She pulls away, maneuvering her fist back and down at the same time, nailing him right between the legs.

“Ff-ah-ckkk!”

Five’s sudden high pitch yelp comes out just as loud as the girl’s cry, but unlike her, his verbal alarm ends in a very hushed groan followed by a whisper of a wheeze as he frantically fights not to double over and also maintain his hold on the back of her sweater.

Five gags down his vomit that is threatening to make this even worse, and while he is immersed in the sensations of pure agony, she comes at him again.

Somehow, Five manages to move his head back just in time, narrowly avoiding another jab to the face. Her hand hits his upper sternum instead and just as fast, her fingers find their way around his silk tie, yanking his head forward with it.

Five instinctively retaliates by violently twisting his arm around her neck.

“St-ooo-ppp,” he splutters as they choke each other.

“Let go!” she piercingly shrieks before she’s completely deprived of the air to do so.

Dropping her weight as her fingers dig at Five’s arm doesn’t have the desired effect of getting him to let go, so she digs her heels into the floor plowing backwards instead.

Her reverse attack makes Five’s dress shoes slip out from under him on the grimy floor. The impact of Five’s head as it swings back into the metal wall makes a cracking sound that leaves the wall vibrating.

Totally in shock and seeing the brilliant scattering of stars filling his vision, Five’s free arm swings out, searching for the railing behind him, but he misses. He starts to lose consciousness. All at once, his full body weight is hanging on the girl’s neck as darkness begins swallowing up his remaining vision.

The girl lets out a helpless sounding whimper as they start to fall.

Beyond faint and feeling equally helpless, Five inadvertently squeezes his arm tighter, using the girl to pull himself upright again. To his relief, her fingers suddenly release the sleeve of his dress shirt and her arms flop down limply at her sides.

DING!

At the same time the doors rumble open, the girl’s legs give out and Five almost drops her.

Unable to think let alone function like he normally would, Five hoists her back up then unsteadily stumbles out of the elevator with the girl’s feet dragging between his legs.

Light-headedly glancing both ways, he is beyond grateful that no one is out there looking to see what all yelling was about.

Beaten and bloodied, Five makes it inside his own door a few seconds later and his first move is getting them both over to the bed because he still feels like he may fall flat on his face.

Five hastily drops the girl down next to Dolores, then he moves towards his kitchen, swaying as he navigates the short distance.

After getting the shit beat out of him, he is quickly processing the fact that he needs to adjust his original plan to drop her and go. He is going to need to shake at least some of his drunken and concussed brain fog before he can walk even remotely straight. If he doesn’t, he may pass out in the street or his own hallway with his face smacked down in a pile of his own puke.

The idea of the cops finding him like that, with the addition of Dolores lying next to him, is enough to push along Five’s new approach to make this all still work out in both their favor. The most important thing he figures right now is that he needs to keep this girl quiet for a little while before he is functioning enough to leave.

Five throws open the utility cabinet, his unfocused eyes landing on the hook with the wound-up nylon rope hanging on it. The apartment’s previous other weirdo occupant had left many things behind, but unlike the loads of old stuffed animals, this was one thing that Five didn’t throw away being it had many practical uses. In this case, tying someone up.

“They are right, you are a psycho,” Five mutters to himself as he digs around finding nothing else useful.

Next, opening the first drawer next to the refrigerator, he grabs his switchblade and his revolver. It had been Five’s norm to always carry both these weapons, but he stopped when he figured out that there were no field operatives from The Commission coming after him in this new world because there was no more Commission.

Klaus was right, he thinks. He was better when he had an evil taskmaster to keep him in line.

Staggering a little as he turns around, he sets the gun on the kitchen table and tucks the knife into the waistband of his pants. Next, making it back over to the bed with what he figures will be enough to keep the girl safely detained till he is more composed, Five is surprised to see that she isn’t waking up yet.

He says her name.

Nothing.

Five throws the rope on the bed, then picks up her wrist, checking her pulse. He doesn’t feel one, so his trembling fingers move to her neck, pressing against her throat instead. The girl doesn’t react to him touching her, and Five still can’t feel anything.

“Oh, no, no, NO, NO !” He says the girl’s name a few more times, and again he gets nothing. “Dolores, I didn’t mean to- Shit, shit, fucking SHIT!"

Feeling like he’s losing what’s left of his mind, Five doesn’t know what to say, and even though Dolores is right there, she doesn’t respond to his terrified ramblings.

Even though his mind is spinning out of control, Five’s years of training kick in. He jumps on the bed, rolling the girl on her side. Then he lifts her chin, putting her in the recovery position that you are supposed to do for someone when trying to revive them after being fully choked out. The maneuver makes the girl’s mouth fall open and Five checks to make sure that her airway is not blocked, or that her own tongue didn’t slip back in her throat.

Everything is normal. She should be able to breathe, but for some reason she is not, and she is not waking up.

Kneeling over her, one hand on her back, Five starts rubbing. “Come on, breathe! You’re strong, you just showed me how strong you are. Breathe damn it!”

He knows very well how this works, and giving her CPR will do nothing because this is not happening to her because of cardiac arrest.

Lifting her legs so that more blood moves to her brain is not that effective at helping to revive someone in this condition, and it’s sure as hell not going to work if she’s already gone. Five could stand her on her head and no amount of blood running to her brain will bring her back if she is dead.

“Come on! NO! You can’t die!” he angrily pleads, even as both his hands keep at it, one now methodically trying to massage life into her cold legs.

Counting the minutes in his head, Five can’t really say how long he would have been squeezing tight enough to fully deprive her of oxygen. He knows that all it takes is a matter of a minute like that and someone can face permanent brain damage or death.

They were in the parking lot for only a minute or so after she swung the bat at him. He knows he let up on her throat enough during that time because she woke up a little when they were crouched behind that car. She was moving in his lap, and he heard soft moaning sounds coming out of her. Then as soon as the car pulled out of the lot, he carried her in, not choking her at all.

In the elevator, he fucked-up big time and he let her wake up completely. Five is sure that she was never completely out more than twice and for no more than about thirty seconds at a time.

Right?

From where Five has himself positioned next to the girl, one of his knees is pressing against Dolores’s hip and with glistening eyes he looks from the girl to her.

“I didn’t mean to do this,” he insists.

Again, Dolores says nothing to calm Five or reassure him like she normally would. His watery eyes plead with her, but he gets nothing.

“Oh my God, thank you,” Five cries, with his head swinging back to the girl. His hand on her back slowly begins to rise and fall as she comes back to life. “That’s it. Keep breathing, it’s going to be okay.”

The girl slowly begins to move her legs and Five puts his hands under her side, sliding her small body up closer to the headboard. She makes a small sound of complaint at being handled, but he still needs to restrain her hands, or she’ll be trying to fight him again the second she’s aware of what is happening.

Mechanically, Five flips open his long switchblade so he can quickly cut the correct lengths of rope with it. Then just as fast, he makes tight loops around both of her wrists. Seeing that he’s at least not totally fucking that up that lesson he learned over and over as a child, and that her arms are snuggly secured above her head to his headboard, he risks looking over at Dolores again.

“I think she’s okay. I know how this looks, but you know that I didn’t mean to do this. I was never going to go near her. It was only supposed to be just me waahh-"

Five can’t finish that one, and that is because saying that it was only supposed to be him watching the girl doesn’t make it okay. None of this is okay. His eyelids lower and he rubs the area between his eyes.

“Please talk to me, sweetheart. I don’t know what to do. I think something is very, very wrong with me. I need you,” he pleads, winching in pain as the trickle of blood from his nose continues to drip down over his upper lip.

Five gets nothing back, and right now, he needs his trusted voice of reason more than ever. In his head, he can only imagine that Dolores is not acknowledging him because she is questioning why he is tying this poor girl up like this if he supposedly didn’t mean to do this.

To him, she is probably thinking that he is going to hurt her even more than he already has and that makes Five spiral even worse.

“Please don’t hate me. The only reason she’s tied up is because I need to stay here long enough to make sure she’s going to make it, and I can’t leave like this. I need time to clean up,” he tries to explain. “I will get us out of here. We can start over,” he promises.

His blurring eyes dart from Dolores to the girl, then back again.

With tears starting to run down his face, Five gasps out a devastated sob, “Dolores, I need help. Please, talk to me!” Again, she doesn’t react, and his reddened eyes fearfully widen. “Dolores!” The quiver in his voice matches the quiver in his bloodied hands.

Nothing.

Five just drug in the near lifeless body of the very real girl from across the alley, placing her in the bed next to his beloved. Now, having them both laying there opposite each other, all he can see in the mannequin’s normally devoted expression of limitless acceptance is the actual lifeless object she is.

Just like in the elevator with the girl right there with him, now Five is finding that he can’t pretend anymore.

Dolores’s face stares out blankly, the matte finished paint of her sky-blue eyes will not meet his.

In Five’s entire time with her, this has never happened.

As Five moves himself down the girl’s legs, snaking the nylon around her ankles, he does so with the shock of knowing that Dolores finally left him.

Now he really has nothing to live for.

Feeling totally out of it, liquid dribbles from your slack mouth. You feel the softest tickle as the hair that’s stuck to your cheek pulls away.

“Wha thhh-ah," you start to mumble, but you are so groggy that at first you can’t even complete a thought let alone string two measly words together.

It feels like you are in bed, but you don’t remember going to bed.

In your jumbled thoughts, you recall going on a blind date with a guy from a stupid dating website. That obviously turned out to be a very bad decision. You should have known this guy was bad news when he showed up early and he somehow snuck inside your building instead waiting down in the parking lot.

At the end of the night, the douche monger insisted on walking you to your door, and then he really upped his creep factor when he jumped on you.

You remember feeling extremely unhinged and completely repulsed by what he did. As such, you figured that it was a excellent idea to educate the prick on what would happen if he ever tried that date rape shit on anyone again.

As this all comes back to you, your eyes start to flutter open, but the room is dim, and your vision is badly distorted.

More liquid slips inside your parted lips.

“Please, wake up,” the softest male voice worriedly whispers.

Hearing that, you immediately try to move, but like the voice, everything feels wrong. It feels like your arms and legs aren’t working right.

You feel a warm hand on your back slowly moving back and forth.

That’s when you remember that strange man in the parking lot.

“No,” you croak out, as you remember the unmistakable shape of his firm manhood pressing up against your ass as he cut off your air supply with the constriction of his arm around your already bruised throat.

It feels like something is still wrapped around your neck but whatever it is, it’s not painful and tight, it’s cold.

This doesn’t make sense.

Your mouth quickly shuts, your eyes flying open, as you try to sit up. Adding to your horror, you find that you can’t. Your arms flex and pull but they won’t give in to your request. Your chest and bottom rise off the bed only to immediately get pulled back down.

As your vision clears, you realize that someone is sitting next to you.

Dark hair dangles over pale green colored eyes.

The expression on his face is empty, not at all the way it was when you first laid eyes on it. Then, this lunatic appeared harmless. He even looked greatly concerned for your well-being. His eyes were conveying such open sorrow that it threw you off enough to let him approach.

He was acting like he knew you. He called you by name.

You open your mouth to scream but he quickly covers the sound with a thick fold of fabric that a second ago must have been around the cold pack that is now on his lap. His eyes narrow as his hand firmly presses the towel against your face.

As air wheezes through your partially blocked nose, he says, “Don’t. Do. That. Again.”

Every word out of his mouth is filled with warning.

Even if you weren’t already completely scared stiff, just the look in his eyes has the sound of your own blood thrumming in your ears and your heart feeling like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

This can’t be the same voice you just heard speaking so compassionately.

Looking for help, your eyes try to take in the room behind him, but you don’t see anyone else.

Angling your chin backwards, you see someone illuminated by the small bedside lamp, but your own eyes grow even wider when you realize that the woman lying there next to you is not alive.

It’s an old, full body mannequin like you would normally see at a dump or in a second-hand clothing store.

You try to scream again but he pushes his hand down harder, completely muffling it.

“I said, DON’T!” he growls as you yank at the ropes binding your wrists. They won’t budge and that’s because you are tied to a very heavy-looking wooden headboard.

Trying to move your legs again, you realize that each ankle is tied much like your hands, then fastened by extended lines of rope to opposite bed posts at the foot of the bed.

It dawns on you that this is his bed.

This perverted asshole saw what your douchebag date did to you. He has been watching you for who knows how long, and now he has abducted you. Your legs are spread wide, and your skirt is pushed up so high from your floundering that you know he can see right under it from where he’s sitting.

You can’t believe this is happening, but it is.

Again, you remember feeling this fucker pressing himself on you. He was hard.

This guy was turned on by squeezing the life out of you, and he has a plastic woman in his bed!

Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!

This is so bad.

As you mentally lose your shit, his eyes never leave yours. One of his thighs is pressing against your side and he’s still holding the bottle he must have been feeding you with, but from the way he is sitting at the edge of the bed, you can’t tell if he is still aroused.

You want to scream at him to let you go but you can do nothing. You are entirely at his mercy.

The only reasons you can come up with for why he is doing this aren’t good, but you force yourself not to go there. You have to focus.

Since he’s not actually touching, touching you yet, you try to concentrate on the rest of your surroundings, looking for some way out of this.

There is an old looking electric stove in a small kitchen area across the room, with an equally old looking refrigerator next to it. A small beat-up looking table sits under one of the only two windows and it has an empty liquor bottle on it and something black that looks like a revolver of some kind.

Great.

You remember smelling the strong scent of booze on his breath in the elevator. He is clearly shit faced. Your eyes flit back to his. He hasn’t moved at all.

Oh my God, you are going to die.

Looking out again, you see that in front of the bed, there’s a very battered looking recliner. Other than the basics, there is nothing someone would have that would give signs that they lived there. There are no pictures on the walls. No TV, no shelves full of personal belongings. Next to the recliner, on the floor, you can just make out that there is a stack of books, but that is it.

You see what must be the door to get out, and one that is narrower and has slatted vents in it, meaning it’s a closet. Behind you, when you tilted your head back to look at what was holding you from moving your arms, you saw what appeared to be a tiny bathroom.

At first glance, you see nothing that can help you. It’s just some psycho guy’s shitty shoe box sized apartment.

His indifferent reaction as you look around his home is jarring. The flawlessly smooth skin on his face gives the impression of youthful innocence, but what he’s doing proves he is far from it.

You’re betting this fancy dressing Ted Bundy has got piles of bodies under his bed and body parts galore in his freezer. Now you see it; he’s totally the type!

SHIT!

His expensive looking three-piece suit didn’t make sense in this neighborhood. Now splatters of blood stain the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He clearly used the cuffs to wipe his nose based on the numerous red smears.

You wish so badly that you’d hit him hard enough to break his whole stupid face.

You risk looking at more of him, and you see that he is missing the tie he had on before, and you can only assume that is because the first chance you had, you latched on to it and tried to strangle him with it.

He is clearly not taking any chances of that happening again.

Uselessly trying to wriggle away from him, your arms pull down on the ropes and the heels of your bare feet slide across his rumpled bedding.

He took off your shoes!

Your stomach sickens with the realization that he has already been touching you when you were unconscious.

Again, you notice how high your skirt is, but he isn’t looking there, his cold eyes remain fixed on yours.

You can’t help it when you scream under his hand, but that only makes him even more scary looking. His features contort ominously.

“This is not what I wanted. I-” He suddenly pauses, a line forms between his eyes as they run over your face, down your body and back up again. “You never should have lifted that bat.”

You try to tell him that you don’t care what he wants or that he didn’t want his head bashed in, but your words are totally stifled by the persistent pressure of his hand.

“You kept fighting me. I had no choice but to do what I did,” he scolds, like this is your fault rather than his.

He reaches over to the bedside table, setting the bottle of water down, then he picks up another length of rope off of it. The moment he removes his hand from your mouth, he forces your lips apart, jabbing the cloth inside. His other hand is already behind your head, pushing it forward as he works the rope between your lips.

As he ties the ends at the nape of your neck you realize it’s to keep the gag in. Your mouth is so full of fabric that not even the roaring animalist growls coming out of you are even remotely loud enough to get anyone’s attention.

Your teeth bare down on the nylon fibers as you glare at him in blind hatred.

Eyes darting away from yours, he slowly starts to sit up, but he abruptly stops when you let out a pathetic mewing sound. Those green eyes of his give the faintest hint of something as he watches the burning hot tears rolling back into your hairline.

His hand comes up brushing his dark chocolate colored hair out of his eyes before tucking it behind his ears. His eyes close so sluggishly it is like it pains him to take in the very deep breaths he is all of a sudden taking.

The heavy fringe of his lashes sweeps his cheeks covering the dark hued skin under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but the faint bruising that is starting to form is also from when you hit him, and it only seems to be showing at all because of how fair his skin is.

First, sexual assault and now you are finishing your fabulous Friday night off being this crazy prick’s new and improved sex doll.

Is this really going to be your final fate? Live a subpar existence scratching to get by, working meaningless jobs to pay the rent, then die because some crazy asshole across the alley from you decided to remove you from the world for his own sick satisfaction?

You would laugh at your ridiculously bad luck if you weren’t crying and if you could actually laugh.

He’s going to kill you. There’s no other way out of this.

“Just let me go,” you beg him. It comes out of you, but with hardly any sound though saying it makes his eyes dart back to yours anyway.

His face is one of those that you’ve seen that can express the most heart wrenching emotion if he lets it. Right now, it seems it’s more of failing to hide it than intentionally showing that he’s not as cold as he is pretending to be.

His prominent jaw line seems even more dramatic as you notice him clenching his teeth. It makes the dimple on his cheek stand out even more. He looks so sad, and that reaction is baffling because a moment before he looked like he felt nothing and didn’t even have the tiniest amount of remorse or humanity in him.

You swear you see his hand closest to you trembling.

That has to mean something.

You try to plead with him again, but hearing it, he steels his expression to nothingness again, he stands, preparing to walk away from you.

Christ! Even crazy vagrants on the street don’t have the gift to emotionally turn off and on as quickly as this guy can, and that’s no matter how long gone their minds are.

If you could just get through to him somehow, then maybe you’d have a chance, but how can you do that if he is mentally all over the place.

As he moves, you can see his entire body more clearly. He has straight shoulders, but he is hunching them forward in an odd way that doesn’t match his young age. His chin is angled down to the floor like he simply can’t stand looking at anything else.

His trim waist is defined even more by his tailored vest. He’s one of those guys who has that V-shaped torso that comes from having zero body fat. He’s all lean muscle and bone. Add the fitted black dress pants enhancing the slim look of him and you’d think he’s nobody to worry about, but you know already that he is not weak. Under this misleading appearance is hiding the very dangerous man that just took you.

Your eyes follow his every move as he travels over to the other side of the bed. Again, you swear you see the look of pure agony in his face as he lifts the mannequin and sets her down a few feet away over by the window on what has to be a stand because the thing is standing there dressed all pretty like she belongs in a 90's department store not this freak job’s apartment.

He goes ghostly still with one of his hands resting on the form of its narrow waist.

You hear him softly talking to it and it’s almost exactly the way you heard him speaking when you were coming to.

“Dolores, please… I love you,” he pleads. He is looking at the dummy like he is expecting it to answer him.

When you look to the window beyond him over there having this extremely bizarre moment with his plastic girlfriend, you see the flowers dangling from your own flower box blowing in the wind.

He was right across from you the whole time.

You look over again at the single chair pulled up at the small table next to the window. You can just imagine him sitting there in the dark, finishing off that bottle, watching you.

Being an opportunistic perv that gets turned on by peeping on others is one thing, but this guy was getting off by watching you get attacked and he was clearly also turned on by attacking you.

He’s a sexual sadist and while he rapes you, he is going to do his best to make you suffer even more!

Animalistic sounds of pure desperation erupt from your chest, and they get even louder when he abruptly turns away from his one-sided conversation with the mannequin and comes back towards the bed.

You see his expression change to something fierce and dangerous. His entire body seems to thrum like a bowstring drawn taut. You can almost feel the carefully restrained violence about to explode all over you.

His gaze is so intense that your whole body shudders and his voice comes out so achingly low that he sounds like a different person. “If you have already done the worst things a human could do, would it matter if you sealed it that the devil owns you?”

You do not like where this is going. You shake your head side to side, denying him. You refuse to draw the parallels he is trying to make in justifying what he’s going to do.

“I lost everything. There is no point in fighting anymore,” he whispers.

Even though you don’t want to give them to him, tears trickle down your cheeks again. Seeing them, the faintest trace of a sound comes from somewhere deep inside his chest.

There is something. Something inside all that coldness. He looks sad. You are the one tied to his bed, and he looks sad…

What?

After another minute of him seeming to consider something, he begins to hungrily study you, or at least it appears that way to you in that slow, languid way his eyes roamed over your body. When they hover over your chest, your breath hitches, and you think you hear his hitch too.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” you frantically cry, adding every curse word you know and even adding some new ones specially invented just for him. It comes out garbled, but you are sure he is getting the gist.

He reaches for the bottle of water on the nightstand, his eyes roll back in his head, and he almost falls down as he proceeds to pound it.

After stumbling and then tossing the empty bottle on the floor, he moves across the bed, crawling on hands and knees towards you. The mattress sags beneath his weight as he bends down on top of you.

His weight hovers over you, and your fingers curl into fists. Your arms pulled down but to no avail.

Reactively, when his hand comes towards your face, you pull back as much as you can. He stops for a second, dark brows furrowing like he doesn’t understand your reaction.

“Sweetheart, no, please. You know I'd never hurt you,” he slurs, then his long fingers gently run across your skin to wipe your tears away.

You shudder.

He still has that look. You know it even though you don’t know him. It’s the look of misery.

He brushes your tangled hair back and the frown on his face deepens. Those pale cheeks of his suddenly flush with…

Arousal? Shame? Murderous rage? You have no idea until you look between your bodies, and you see that his crotch region is definitely tenting in a way it wasn't a few minutes ago.

Very slowly, he traces the bruises your date left on your neck with a finger. The sensation makes you shiver in fear, and you see him shiver too. You are sure he’s about to lower himself on you but then he rolls off, staggers to the bathroom, and then slams the door behind him.

Entering his bathroom, Five’s body falls forward over the small counter. He clings to the edge holding himself steady, while hoping he will be able to think clearer now that he is away from the girl.

Five is completely overwhelmed with unimaginable levels of sorrow and gross intoxication, but the worst of it is the very demanding reaction his body is having over seeing the girl laying under him on his bed. As bad of shape as he is in, Five can’t even link together any coherent thoughts other than that when he looked at the girl, he was seeing Dolores.

“Dolores, no,” he breathlessly cries in pure unfiltered agony over the gut-wrenching loss he feels.

Wanting to stop the pain and unable to operate on anything but pure brainless need, rather than hurt the girl because he has completely lost his mind, Five desperately begins to hurt himself.

He lowers his head even more, panting out panicked gasps for air as one of his trembling hands starts to rub the front of his pants.

“Please. Fuck. Help me,” he moans, meaning much more than the words can convey as his other hand fumbles to get his zipper down.

Once he has himself free, Five is quick to start jerking himself with an intensity and cruelty that only makes his head spin even more than it already is.

“Nahhhh-nnnn-” His instant moans of pleasure are followed by the top of his head accidentally banging up against the oval mirror hanging above the sink.

Pumping his hips, Five rams the hand he is using to grope his tight balls, jamming it abusively right up against the edge of the counter. His angry touches feel so damn good despite the punishment that the combination only makes him moan even louder.

His knees bang over and over against the cabinet as he finds every way possible to inflict pain on himself while also giving in to that heady desire trying to consume him.

Five winces as his knuckles begin to split after making contact too many times with the hard surface, but he doesn’t stop doing it. He wants this sweet torture to drown out the rest of his unbearable suffering.

Hair falling in his eyes and his skin feeling like it’s on fire, Five’s other hand continues taking care of the rest of his shaft. His fingers are circled around the end of the hard length, and they are moving up and down so fast that when he peers down at himself, all he sees is a violent blur.

“Yessssssss!”

Mouth hanging open, Five’s come begins to spurt out of him. The near iridescence of his release is somewhere between a milky white and a purely clear watery fluid, allowing it to blend in almost seamlessly into the fake chalky colored marble of his chipped counter. With a dazed expression, Five’s body twitches repeatedly as he watches it drip down into the bowl of his sink.

As the waves of ecstasy all too quickly abandon him, Five’s bloodshot eyes turn up to the monster in the mirror.

All at once, his fist slams into the face staring back at him. The glass shatters, raining down sharp blades of Five’s reflection, scattering his hatred at his feet and all over the counter.

As if what just happened when he was suspending his body over you isn't appalling enough, the sounds coming from the bathroom are making you really lose your mind. You yank at your constraints hard enough to make your quickly abrading skin begin to bleed.

It's very clear what he is doing in there; you don't need to see him to know that he took your advice and is actively fucking himself. The only good thing about this is that he is not trying to fuck you and he is in there and you are out here.

When the sound of glass breaking and things hitting the floor abruptly comes after a another one of his guttural groans, you are pulling so hard on the headboard to break free that it's banging against the wall behind it.

Not more than a minute later, the bathroom door swings open and he's back at the side of the bed looking down at you with those empty eyes.

“I need you to be quiet a little longer." His words don't sound mad or even scary even though he just busted you trying to break free. He sounds very meek but that makes sense considering what he did in there.

You can't help your eyes from moving right from his to his fly, and sure enough, Mr. Psycho's Mr. Happy seems to be momentarily tamed.

Just when you are thinking you might be safe, he shifts himself over on the mattress where the mannequin was.

Just the act of laying down looks like it hurts him. His moist looking eyes open and shut like he can hardly hold them open as he lets out a very pained moan that makes him sound like a child that needs his mommy very badly.

You can see his hand is freshly bleeding but not bad. He doesn't even seem to notice.

“I am going to let you go. I just need to clear my head for a few minutes, and I am cutting you loose and leaving. This will all be over soon,” he hushes when the bed moves from you trying to wriggle away from him.

As he settles into the blankets and his eyes droop closed, his black vest pulls up as he stretches out and you immediately notice that he has some kind of knife tucked under his waistband.

After a minute or two of laying like that, eyes closed still, he rolls over and his arm flops down over your chest, his hand landing way to close to your neck again. You try to shake him off, but you have nowhere to go, and he remains as is.

This guy can say what he wants about letting you go, but him lying next to you, hand on your throat, with this fuck mannequin watching him resting up enough so that he can brutally rape you doesn’t have you feeling any less terrified.

The only reason you are not screaming anymore is because you don’t want to set him off now that he is this close.

Less than a minute later of you laying there thinking this is it, his chin slides down the arm he has folded under his head, and as it happens, the choppy looking fringe of his hair falls over his face.

Holy shit… You cannot believe it, but he just passed out.

His heavy breathing immediately starts to relax.

Whether he was lying or not when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you and that he was also going to let you go, you have no idea, but it doesn’t matter. Seeing your chance, your arms begin pulling again. You twist and torque your wrists, working the ropes.

The sound of loud vibration startles you and you go stark still, your eyes darting to the kitchen table as your heartrate flies through the roof.

You can’t be sure, because it’s so dark, but you think there is a cell phone lying there next to the gun. Just as you start to wriggle your wrists again, the phone vibrates again and at the same time, he lets out an annoyed sounding grumble. “Leave me alone, Klaus.”

Klaus?

The third time the phone buzzes, his upper leg moves over, locking down over one of yours.

You close your eyes, willing your mind to take you anywhere but here.

Stupid phone and fuck you Klaus person whoever you are.

“Don’t wake up the psycho, I am about to shiv his ass! ” your mind yells at the offending electronic device.

Not long later, the hand at your throat begins to move away, but as it retreats, your crazy cuddle buddy snuggles his body even closer to yours. This new intrusion on your personal space seems to make him happy enough at first, but then all of a sudden, he must decide that he is not warm enough. He reaches back and flips the bed spread over you both and in doing so, the cuff on his right arm pulls up and something catches your eye.

He has a tattoo on the underside of his wrist. It’s the silhouette of a black umbrella with a circle around it.

What the hell?

You’ve seen that symbol before. You were a little too young when the superhero kids that belonged to the infamous money mogul Sir Reginal Hargreeves were all the rage, but you have heard of them. They all supposedly disbanded when they came of age, and from what you remember hearing, one or two may have even died before that.

They all were born with different unimaginable powers and were often seen in public as children stepping in here or there during major emergencies to show off their extraordinary skills.

You’ve seen old posters with them, but none of their faces are coming back to you except the girl named Allison, and that is because she has been in the news over the years for different movies that she has been in.

They were all exactly the same age, and this guy looks like he could be ten years younger than her.

He can’t be one of them…

Can he?

Whether he’s one of them or not, just like with your date tonight, as soon as you get free, you are going to show this sorry sack that he may think he knows you and you are just going to lay here and let him treat you like his little play thing, but he got it all wrong.

He picked the wrong girl to fuck with.

If this loser was one of the Umbrella Academy kids, you haven’t seen any signs of his powers, which might be because you recall hearing that they all lost them at some point. If he is one of them, it appears he lost even more than that, and he is in luck because you are about to help him lose even more.

The rope painfully digs into your skin. You are so close. A few more twists and the ligaments holding your thumb together will slide, letting your bones pop out of place. Then you can grab his knife and it’s go time fucker.

Someone is getting a knife through the dick and it’s one hundred percent Mr. Umbrella Academy Tattoo!

The phone lets out another long buzzing sound then stops. He doesn’t say anything this time, but the disturbance must have disturbed him again because you feel his hand slowly start surveying your upper leg, his fingers gently tracing a line northward.

You begin to struggle. Your nasally whines of protest have him swiftly changing course, instead clamping that same hand at your waist. He pulls you closer as he presses his face against your neck.

“I am sorry, Dolores…” he whispers.

He is so close. Everything suddenly feels very hot.

His lips part then they start feather lightly, sweep along the coating of moisture he’s creating on your skin. When the heat of his pelvis moves tight against your hip, you are shocked that he isn’t hard again over violating you.

This guy doesn’t make any sense. You thought that was part of the whole thing he was into, but when he popped a woody from touching your face and neck, as soon as he noticed it was happening, he took off like he was scared shitless.

Maybe right now he is just not recovered enough from his last weirdo whack session or...

Is it possible that he really doesn't want to hurt you. Maybe he wasn’t planning on it when he reached out like he did in the parking lot?

Maybe you had it all wrong in thinking that he was enjoying watching you nearly getting raped. He had clearly been doing something by way of enjoying himself prior to sprinting out into the parking lot, but…

All of a sudden, it dawns on you that he actually looked very upset by what he saw happen. He sounded very upset by it. It was like he was so distressed by it that he ran down there planning to do something about it.

He looked like he wasn’t expecting you to be there. He actually seemed very confused by it.

Was he coming after your date?

At the moment, you didn’t see all that, but now…

Well…

What the fuck?

He is obviously very messed up, but maybe not in messed-up in the ‘I’m going to violently rape you and murder you’ kind of way.

He did abduct you, but he just said he was going to let you go. He said that he was going to leave.

For some bizarre reason, he seems to be very in love with his mannequin and you are almost certain that right now he thinks you are her. He is so delusional; he probably can’t even tell the difference.

Again, your feet dig down into his mattress as he nuzzles your neck and makes one of those super soft whimpering noises.

This does not feel like he’s trying to hurt you. It feels like he is trying to do something else entirely.

Something is not adding up other than he is most certainly off his rocker.

He said that he has done the worst things a human can do, and you have no idea what he meant by that, but when he could have raped you while you were out or even now, he didn’t. Besides tying you up, the things he was doing before taking off to take care of his boner problem were all in an effort to help you.

Add all this up and what he said about letting the devil own him, may not have been implying what you originally thought. The more you think about it, it seems like he could have been talking about killing himself, not giving in to raping and killing you.

You can’t see his entire face, but you can tell that his eyes are still pinched shut and it’s in such a way that looks so miserable.

You have no idea what is going on with the guy but it’s clear that something is very wrong with him, and it’s not just that he is mega wasted.

As your mind is putting all this together, he lets out a throaty sound that almost sounds like a sob before he begins placing soft kisses along your bruised neck while vibrating his next words across your skin. “Please don’t leave me.”

His hand at the narrowest part of your waist slips under you, tenderly massaging circles against your lower back. His warm fingers very subtly dig in as if he’s trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it when a similar sounding whine comes out of you as your heels dig in across the bedding again.

He is all over you and not in the hurtful kind of way.

This is not what you’d expect from a sexual sadist who gets their jollies off torturing people.

As he kisses just below your ear in that very sensitive space that makes your toes curl, he does so like he has done this maneuver about a million times, and he lets out the most contented sounding sigh when your body involuntarily shudders from it. This has got you starting to think that you may have read this crazy perv all wrong.

He’s a perv but maybe not the type you thought.

What he’s doing is so unbelievably tender and loving that it has you trembling from head to toe and incidentally not just from fear.

“Dolores, please forgive me.”

Again, he’s not talking to you, that much is very clear.

After saying that, he stops with the kisses, his body motionless as he clings to you like his life depends on it.

After a few minutes of nothing but the sound of his steady breathing, you know that he is fully out again.

To the feel of his chest rising and falling against your side, you start to work your wrists free again.

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

Thanks for reading.

Link to Chapter four

Master List Post to my Five Centric Stories and Art

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