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inorganicone2230 · 2 years

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Purity (Finale Part 1 of 2) Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Part 28 & Finale Part 2 of 2

Summary: Overhaul meets a quirkless foreigner who holds some very interesting views on his way of thinking. The more time he spends with her, the more he wants to keep her and her purity for himself. And he has no problem with falling to the depths of obsession if it means getting what he wants.

Other Warnings: Trigger warnings, mentions of past domestic and physical abuse, blackmail, referenced kidnapping, referenced rape, referenced physical abuse/torture, emotional and mental manipulation, toxic relationship, gaslighting, forced pregnancy, VERY YANDERE!!! See tags for more…

Side Note: I do NOT and never will condone the actions committed in this and future chapters, please be mindful and respectful of the fact that all of this is purely fiction.

5 Years Later

Looking down at his phone to check the time, Kai nearly groaned when he saw that it was already well past 6pm and they were still nowhere near ready to see this latest deal closed.

They had been debating these negotiations with this new group for the last three hours and despite Kai and the Hassaikai’s incredibly generous offer, they still hadn’t found a mutually agreeable price or terms to settle on.

“Look,” The head of the group said, clearly annoyed that they weren’t giving into their, quite frankly, ridiculous demands. “I just don’t see what the big deal is; all we’re asking is for an undiluted sample of the product to see how it will respond to someone under the effects of a stronger form of trigger.”

“The problem is that it’s a risk and a liability that we’re not willing to take.” Hari said for the umpteenth time through gritted teeth. “It’s been nearly five years since we completed our finished product, and in that time, we haven’t seen a single successful copycat drug hit the streets, so as I’m sure you can imagine, it’s a record we’d like to see keep going for as long as possible.”

One of the men across the table, an enforcer with a temper worse than Mimic’s, slammed his fist on the table in outrage.

“Are you uptight assholes trying to accuse us of wanting to double-cross you?!”

Kai rolled his eyes at the pathetic display before speaking up himself.

“I believe what my second in command is trying to say is that it’s a risk we’re just not willing to take for anyone.” He tapped a gloved hand on the paperwork in front of him. “You’re not the first buyers to ask us for such concessions, and we’ve turned them all down, even groups that we’ve had good standing with for generations, so no, we’re not about to break that stance for a gang that’s only just barely made a mediocre name for themselves.” His golden eyes flashed bright, promising pain and torment for anyone who thought it a smart idea to question him and the man who opened his mouth to respond to the insult, wisely shut it. “So, you can either take what we have so kindly offered you, with a small discount as a show of our immense generosity, or you can leave this room and consider yourselves permanently blacklisted from our dealings and future negotiations.”

The men across from him all sneered with outright contempt.

“And here I thought the infamous Overhaul was supposed to be a tyrant without mercy, a monster disguised as a man.” The leader said, giving him a once-over that clearly said he wasn’t all that impressed. “Seems to me that all those stories are nothing but baseless rumors.”

“Is that so?” Kai asked, rather absentmindedly, and as if in answer, his glove, along with the stack of papers underneath his hand quickly became particles floating through the air. “Should you continue with this disrespectful posturing, I can just as easily do the same to your bodies and you can leave this room, and the world of the living, through the drains in the floor.”

The men opposite him and Hari suddenly looked far less confident and Kai’s blood thrummed with the promise of potential violence. He didn’t relish the mess that would inevitably follow, but after last night, he needed something to take the fucking edge off, and wiping these vermin permanently out of existence seemed a good enough choice.

In the five years since the birth of his and your son, Kazue, there had been a great deal of changes brought about by the boundaries he’d set for you and himself to follow. Most of the changes were in regards to his relationship with you and the children, and it most definitely took some getting used to it all in the beginning, especially during that first year.

Touching you had been like second nature to him by that point and there were so many times where he had caught himself reaching for you and had to physically leave the room for fear of breaking his promise to you. He was a man of conviction after all, and he prided himself on his sense of self control, but not being able to hold you in his arms or feel your lips and body against his own was pure torture for him. He’d gone so long despising even the thought of physical contact with others, but once he got a taste of it with you, he became addicted.

That’s why he tried so hard to stay as far away from you as possible in those early days, spending as much time around you as he used to proved to be too much of a temptation for him and he was determined to prove to you that he could be a man of his word.

One of the first changes he had tried to make in the beginning had been in offering to find another place for himself to sleep, especially once he moved you all up into the house above the tunnels, a suggestion you had, very surprisingly, turned down. Sadly though, he didn’t need to be informed that it wasn’t because you would have missed his presence beside you at night, but because you didn’t want to worry Eri by letting her believe there was animosity between the two of you. You would continue to share his bed in a strictly platonic manner and keep up the guise of being cordial with him, if only for the sake of the children and their stability. But beyond that, and raising the children together, you did much of everything without him back then.

Along with the loss of his intimacy with you, he ceased doing quite a lot with you during that time period; picking out your clothes for the day, bathing with you, making idle conversation with you, even just spending quality time with you in the same room, all of it came to a sudden halt. None of it was out of maliciousness on his part of course, it was just easier to stay away until he could get a grasp on his self control. A task that proved itself to be one of the most difficult of his young life.

And that’s roughly how the first two years had progressed.

You spent time with him, usually only when the children were involved, and life dragged on accordingly. And over time, he ever so slowly began to lose hope that anything would change the horrible circumstances of his own careless actions.

Until one event that set in motion a ripple effect, one that went on to ever so slowly alter the last three years, enough to restore that small ember of hope he’d been holding onto.

—————

It was late, nearly three in the morning, by the time he slowly and quietly made his way through the halls of the ‘family residence’ and into the bedroom, silently praying that you and the children were already asleep and that he wouldn’t accidentally wake any of you up and have to explain his haggard appearance. Getting to spend time with you and his babies was usually the best part of his day, but not tonight. It had already been such an agonizingly long and hard day, one of the most difficult of his life, and he just didn’t have the drive or the energy to deal with anything else.

Unfortunately though, those prayers went unanswered as he quietly opened the door to find you still awake and sitting up in bed with a book in hand.

You looked up, your beautiful face as impassive as ever, and if you were at all surprised or concerned by his less than normal countenance, then you certainly didn’t show it, and he was far too tired and drained by that point to feel hurt by the minor snub.

“What are you still doing up?” He asked quietly, more out of habit than actual interest, as he trudged over to his dresser to pull out a clean pair of boxers and sleeping pants.

Since anything and everything sexual was now off the table for the two of you, he had conceded and begrudgingly, but understandably, started wearing some kind of sleepwear to bed. He found it uncomfortable most nights, as he was so accustomed to sleeping in the nude, but he found that as long as he was wearing something that at least left his lower body covered, like a simple pair of boxers, you didn’t feel the need to voice any complaints about it. Although, when this arrangement had first started, he was smugly pleased to see that you were just as uncomfortable as he was when it came to wearing clothing to bed. In the beginning you tried to wear the most unflattering pajama sets to bed in an effort to hide your body from him, but those attempts had lasted all of three months before you broke down and just started wearing the least revealing nightgowns and other sleepwear he’d previously purchased for you to bed at night. It certainly wasn’t something he was ever going to mention for fear of losing the stunning visuals they provided him with, and definitely not now that he was forced to take his pleasure into own hands… quite literally these days.

Under normal circumstances, he would have spent a few minutes talking to you and greedily drinking in the sight of you in a silky midnight blue night shirt and shorts, especially when he could clearly see the outline of your nipples straining against the delicate material, but the entrancing sight held nearly no sway over him this night.

He saw you shrug out of the corner of his eye and turn the page of your book, just as uninterested in him as you always were. “Kazue got a tummy ache after dinner tonight, so I sat up with him until it passed and he was able to fall asleep. I’m starting to think he might be a bit lactose intolerant, and it was the cream based sauce that did it.”

“I see…” Was his only response as he made his way into the bathroom to take a scalding hot shower, completely missing your wide eyed stare following him all the way to the bathroom and lingering long after the door had shut behind him.

—————

And perhaps it was his complete and utter disinterest in the well-being of his son that tipped the scales in his favor that night and made you act so out of character, Kai thought to himself, because any other time you said such a thing, he would have been asking a whole host of increasingly concerned questions and rushing into the child’s room to see for himself that he was safe a well.

—————

By the time Kai emerged from the bathroom over an hour later, his skin having turned a pinkish red and scrubbed so raw in places that he’d likely taken away a layer or two, the bedside lamp was shut off and you were nestled comfortably under the covers, though he could tell you were still wide awake. But still, he said nothing as he pulled back the covers and finally laid down. He was exhausted, both mentally and emotionally, and he felt it deep down in his bones, but he just couldn’t seem to get his mind to settle.

It also didn’t help that he could feel your gaze drilling holes into his back and adding to his already mounting tension.

You hadn’t said anything, but he could feel your questions hanging in the air all around him and the pressure of it made his already sensitive and scalded skin itch. He’d never had this kind of adverse reaction to you before and it terrified him to no small degree. He knew it was just the lingering effects from what had occurred today, but still, it wasn’t a feeling he’d ever wanted to experience where you were concerned.

So he answered your unspoken question, if only to try and make the itching go away.

“He’s dead…”

The two softly spoken words rang hollow in the quiet of the bedroom and while Kai knew he didn’t need to elaborate further on who he was referring to, you would already know, the floodgates were now open and he couldn’t stop himself from speaking further, even if there was no prompting for it from you.

“The underling assigned to care for him said that the readings on all his monitors were fine this morning, but when he came back to check on him during lunch…” He trailed off, his throat constricting around the words as he fought to keep some semblance of his composure intact, but against all his best efforts, a pathetic and broken sound, somewhere between a sob and whine, slipped out of him instead. He hated how weak he felt in this moment; he’d seen his own fair share of death and horrible things over the years, Hell!, he’d performed human medical experiments that could easily be qualified as torture, and on his own daughter of all people! And yet he’d never felt as grief stricken and misguided after coming to terms with those instances, not the way he did right now with this.

He knew it was bound to happen someday, Pops dying… but he never thought it would be so soon, and certainly not before he was able to wake him up and show the man everything he had achieved, not just for the Shie Hassaikai and the yakuza, but for himself.

And now he would never get that chance.

He would never get to tell him how much he honored and respected him, or how grateful he was to have been saved and raised by him, how he thought of him as a father, even if he’d never had the courage to call him by such a title in all the years he’d been under his roof. He’d never get to introduce you to him and hear him laugh when you inevitably called him out on his bullshit and sometimes poor behavior, or see him hold Kazue in his arms and try Eri’s spectacular cooking for the first time. He’d never again feel that strong hand on his shoulder, or hear his voice telling him how proud he was of him despite all his faults and mistakes.

But worst of all, is knowing how he’d never get the chance to beg for his forgiveness, and tell him just how sorry he was for what he’d done that last day they’d spoken, when he laid out the original details of his plan, before everything changed… before you had come into his life and changed everything.

When you failed to respond after a few moments, Kai began wondering if he had imagined you still being awake. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking on his part and his tired mind had simply wanted to believe that you were just the slightest bit worried for him.

He was just about to roll over to try and sleep, and hopefully forget all about this for a little while in dreamless oblivion, when he felt a light pressure on his bicep, so light and tentative that, were his skin not so sensitive from the shower, he might not have noticed it right away.

The contact of your hand made him immediately go rigid, completely terrified that one wrong move would send you reeling back to the other side of the bed. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed you inching closer to his side of the bed until now, and he didn’t even know what to do with himself. Sure, there had been brief and accidental exchanges of touch since Kazue had been born, usually when passing the children to one another or when you got in close quarters with each other, but in all actuality, you hadn’t gone out of your way to touch him in years, and now, he didn’t have a single clue as to what to make of this. It wasn’t as if he was complaining about it, far from it, but he just didn’t know what to take it as.

He told you before that every future touch would be on your terms, and he wanted to keep his word on that front, and he truly didn’t know if this moment was meant to go beyond what was already happening. He didn’t want to misinterpret you touching him like this as more than what you were intending it to be, because for all he knew, you only meant for this to be a consoling touch to try and give him some small form of comfort during this difficult situation he was facing. So he would take what he could get and he would commit this feeling to memory and use it on days when the strain of not being able to touch you was at its strongest, he would use it as a reminder of what he was working so hard to prove to you.

…

Minutes passed, and after some time, he received yet another shock when he felt the slightest pull on his arm.

He barely noticed it at first, and when he did, he just assumed you were getting ready to take your hand back, but when your touch lingered, the pull becoming more insistent, he finally gave in and turned to face you.

You were laying on your side, a look of conflicted contemplation settled over your face and his eyes immediately zeroed in on the way you were biting your bottom lip, a clear sign you were deep in thought on a subject you likely considered very worrisome. Even with the tragedy of Pops’ death hanging like a morbid sheet over his head, Kai couldn’t keep his mind away from thoughts of how those perfect lips of yours used to feel wrapped around his cock, or even how they simply felt against his own. If things weren’t so strained and different between the two of you these days, he likely would have been inside you already, using pleasure and ecstasy to temporarily push aside the unusual feelings of sorrow and grief that were currently plaguing his mind.

As it stood though, that wasn’t even an option right now and he needed to get a hold of himself and gain back some semblance of self control.

“Was…” His voice sounded strained and thick, even to his ears, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Was there something you needed, my love?” He asked cautiously, not wanting to make a big deal about this odd touch of yours and risk spooking you.

You didn’t respond though, in fact, you couldn’t even bring yourself to keep eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds. There was just enough light in the room for him to see that your gaze kept shifting around, and he wondered what was going on inside your head for you to be feeling so nervous and fidgety. It wasn’t a trait you often showed around him, not anymore at least.

Eventually, after a few more quiet moments of thought, you finally got your bearings back and decided to show him what you wanted, rather than expressing it through words, as you rolled over onto your back and opened your arms to him…

Kai was so shocked and stunned by this unexpected turn of events, that he didn’t know what to do with himself and he just continued to stare at you with wide eyes and an open mouthed expression adorning his usually carefully controlled features.

“Well…” You finally snapped at him quietly, although the words carried zero bite to them. “Are you going to come over here or not?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, as if you were afraid of being too loud for some reason.

But at your insistence, Kai moved without another thought.

—————

Even three years later, Kai could still remember that night with perfect clarity.

He could still recall the warmth and softness of your skin, the feel of your arms wrapping around his back in an awkward, but still comforting embrace, he could even remember the way you’d smelled of lilies and eucalyptus as he’d buried his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder. But what he recalled the most vividly, was how he hadn’t felt the least bit judged for the tears that eventually started to fall, or for the quiet sobs that had shaken his body. And all the while, you had simply and silently held him through all of it, you had even stroked your hands up and down the length of his back once in a while.

You hadn’t offered him your condolences or any words of comfort, but what you did give him was so much more profound. The fact that you had chosen to set aside your own negative opinions and personal feelings for him and allowed him to have that moment of silence to grieve and let it all out, that mattered more to him than mere words could ever hope to convey. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d cried over anything, he’d come very close to it a few times during the days surrounding Kazue’s horrifically premature birth, but the ability to shed true tears was something he thought he’d long since purged from himself.

And afterwards, during the following morning, when he’d slowly and silently pulled himself from your arms, savoring every last second he could soaking up your warmth and scent, before he allowed himself to give your cheek the lightest of kisses, he thought that would be the first and last time something like that would occur, that it was a one and done moment. He assumed you wouldn’t even want to talk about it, so he hadn’t brought it up at all and chose instead to keep it tucked away in his heart as a sort of keepsake memory.

But, to his still shocked and bewildered delight, you had offered him the same thing again that night… and the next night, and the night after that, until it became commonplace and a habit neither of you seemed willing to break.

And slowly, little by little, you started opening up to him more after that and Kai relished every moment of it.

He wasn’t delusional enough to think you had entirely accepted your life here with him, he knew that acceptance and complacency were two vastly different concepts, and you were still far from happy. But every time you let your guard down and touched him, or gave him a smile that wasn’t forced and strained for the children’s sake was still a win for him. It felt so much more rewarding and genuine, in a way forcing you never had. He still couldn’t bring himself to fully regret the actions he’d taken that had led him to this point, but now he could see the benefits that could be obtained through time and patience. It wasn’t easy by any means, there were still days where he found himself feeling resentful and bitter that he was having to work so hard for something that, in his mind, he still viewed as rightfully his, but a quick flashback to the awful day of Kazue’s birth was usually enough to snap him out of it.

Sometimes, the memories of that day were so terribly vivid that it felt like he was reliving it all over again and he could still hear the sound the back of his fist had made as it cracked against your face, or the sound of your heavily pregnant body hitting the floor. Those were the mild ones though, the worst came when he could see your blood on his hands and smell the coppery scent of it hanging in the air all around him.

It was so bad in the beginning that he often awoke from nightmares of it, gasping for breath and drenched in a cold sweat that even the heat of a blistering shower couldn’t fully wipe away.

But it was getting better with time, and as selfish as he knew it was, the main reason for that was because he had the assurance that you would never know or remember the exact details of what happened that terrible day. Even five years later, you never once gave him any indication to believe that the false memory he had planted in your mind was fading. It didn’t completely wash away the immense guilt he still felt over it, but had you been allowed to hold it over his head like he knew you most certainly would have, it would have eventually torn him apart from the inside out and made even looking at you and the children nearly unbearable.

…

“Are you listening to me you fucking asshole?!”

Something whizzed past his face and crashed into the wall behind him, pulling him from his musings and bringing his mind back to the present situation at hand.

Kai turned his head to see that it was the bottle of whiskey that had been sitting in the middle of the table, the amber liquid slowly trickling down the pristine white wall and forming a puddle on the floor, along with the broken shards of glass.

Having two children, especially when one of them was a very rambunctious toddler, had done a lot to help him develop a stronger tolerance for messes and disorder, but even so, having a full grown man throw such a childish temper tantrum in his presence was more than enough to make his brow twitch in irritation.

Kai shook his head in disgust. “I have to admit, this really is rather pathetic.” He said, turning back to face the group across from him. “ When my son was going through his terrible twos, he was still better behaved than you and your sorry lot.” And from somewhere behind him, he heard quiet laughter come from the men standing against the wall. Not a surprise really, his Precepts had all spent enough time around the boy these last five years and knew perfectly well how energetic he could be, thankfully though, for as much as Kazue took after Kai in the looks and quirk department, he had seemingly inherited your mellow disposition.

It took a minute, but once the insult fully registered, the man’s face turned an impressive shade of red for a few moments before a thought must have hit his pea-sized brain and a sinister smirk curled up the corner of his lips.

“A son, huh?” He said, easily taking the bait Kai laid out for him. “Gotta say, I never would have suspected that the feared Head of the Shie Hassaikai was a family man.” The morons behind him must have thought he was doing a remarkable job of it, since they all laughed right along with him, and spurred on by his men’s reactions, he unknowingly kept digging his own grave. “That must mean you have yourself a woman…”

His words might have actually hit their intended mark, had Kai not already anticipated the response and prepared his temper for it accordingly. He didn’t exactly need a reason to take the fools out, he could have done so already and called it a day, but he was feeling generous at the moment and decided to allow the scumbags before him to think they could have been spared from his wrath if only they had left talk of you and Kazue out of it.

“I’ve heard how insanely high maintenance you are, so she must be one helluva ride in the fucking sack if she caught your eye.” He continued on, so convinced of his own superiority over Kai and his Precepts that he failed to notice the way his disrespectful words had very quickly drawn the ire of the loyal men standing behind the golden eyed leader. “Tell you what, you give me and my men a free pass with her, and we’ll call this whole situation a simple misunderstanding.”

Kai knew that such a remark was coming, but even then, the rage that consumed him was so blinding, so all consuming, that it almost caused his quirk to activate without conscious thought.

But surprisingly, it wasn’t Kai himself that reacted first, it was Hojo who slammed the side of a crystal fist against the back wall, the force of it cracking the cement and rattling the room hard enough that debris rained down from the ceiling in a few places.

“Keep your disgusting comments about the Lady out of your filthy mouths.” He said, his tone low and menacing. “If I hear something like that again, I’ll personally nail each and every one of you to the walls by your shriveled up balls and dicks.” Hojo’s eyes were normally shadowed, but right now, the crystals that formed them were bright and blazing with barely contained fury.

Silence filled the meeting room for a few short seconds before the leader of the soon to be eradicated gang spoke up again, this time with a bit of fear lacing his otherwise steady tone of voice. Kai didn’t know if it was overconfidence, or just plain stupidity that kept him from pissing himself, but the little fucker had some balls, that was for sure, and Kai was willing to give him credit in that regard at the very least.

“Are all of you Hassaikai pricks this sensitive when it comes to such little things?” He scoffed dismissively before meeting Kai’s gaze. “You disrespected us, and I only suggested it as an easy way for you to express your regrets, but if it’s too difficult to hand over your woman to us for a night, then I’m sure we can figure something else out to fix this situation.”

Kai was now thoroughly convinced; this moron's overinflated bravado and sense of self worth was heightened by nothing more than sheer stupidity. For him to think that Kai cared enough about making this deal happen that he’d be willing to bend over backwards to please them was just plain laughable. They had more than enough mules to push their product, they didn’t need these inconsequential nobodies, but enlisting a few extra hands never hurt.

It’s just a shame that some of those hands were a little too far reaching.

“Is that so?” Kai said quietly. “You must be quite full of yourself if you think that asking for permission to violate my wife is something I’m just going to overlook?” His voice was level and lethally calm, but the absolute disgust he felt could be heard in each word he spoke.

The moment the words registered in their pea-brain heads, all the men went as still as statues and noticeably paled. It would have been one thing if they had insulted a common whore or a bed warmer, but they didn’t, they insulted a powerful leader’s wife, and it didn’t make a lick of difference to Kai whether the fools knew that detail beforehand or not.

They tried to plead half-hearted apologies, then they begged, then they tried to run…

Then, the bloodletting began.

—————

Kai slumped back in the chair behind his desk with an audible groan as Hari placed a glass of bourbon before him and took a seat across from him with his own.

“So, did you get it all out of your system?” The silver haired man asked him, hiding his insufferable and knowing grin with a well timed sip of his drink.

Kai glared, albeit half-heartedly. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” He asked, and picked up his own glass, downing the knuckles worth of liquor in one go

Kai’s disposition had mellowed out in the years since Kazue’s birth, Hari thought, and while he would never call the man soft or say he’d lost his brutal edge, he had certainly opened up and relaxed a bit more when it came to those within their inner circle. But even still, he knew better than to outright laugh at him. He could easily get away with a bit of heckling, but even he had his limits where Kai’s temper was concerned.

“You went into that meeting looking for any excuse you could to take out that pent up aggression of yours on them, that’s the only reason you allowed it to happen in the first place.” The second in command shot back. “So, which one of you was it this time?”

There was silence between them for a few more heartbeats before Kai spoke.

“Her.”

That one simple word carried so much weight to it that Hari could practically see it wearing his friend down.

“Well that explains it.”

Kai nodded in answer but didn’t elaborate any further. There was no need to, Hari already knew everything there was to know about the situation, about the little game you and he had been playing for the better part of the last two years.

It had truly been an accident, the day you had unknowingly walked into this very office, only to find him with his hand wrapped around his cock, and watching one of the many saved videos he had from the camera recordings of your old room down below. The volume had been reduced considerably, but there had been no mistaking the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, or that of your exquisite voice moaning and crying out his name.

You had stood in the doorway for only a handful of seconds before turning on your heel and leaving without a single word, but in that short span of time, Kai had seen the way your eyes lingered on his aching cock, had seen the way you licked your dry lips before biting the bottom one between your teeth. It was that image, not the one of you and himself together on the screen of his computer, that had sent him over the edge into a mind numbing orgasm.

But once the haze of pleasure had ebbed away and no longer clouded his sense of thought or reason, the panic had quickly set in. All throughout the rest of the day, he had been terrified that this incident would set back all the progress the two of you had made together so far these last three years. He had anticipated you getting angry and calling him a vile piece of shit at best, or giving him the cold shoulder at worst, what he hadn’t expected though, was that you wouldn’t do anything at all.

At first…

Nothing was amiss, you’d acted no differently than normal, and if he hadn’t known any better, he might have even gotten it into his head that he had imagined your appearance in his office earlier. He let himself think that perhaps you just wanted to pretend that it had never happened and you were showing him kindness by not bringing it up. So, as the night wore on, he’d relaxed more and more, and when the children were finally put to bed and fast asleep, he hadn’t given it a single thought when you said you were going to take a bath to relax before joining him in bed.

Until he saw you approach his closet, got a look at what you had grabbed from its contents, and realized that your real reaction was going to be so much worse for him than what he had originally built up in his mind.

—————

Kai watched, his curiosity now thoroughly peaked enough that he didn’t dare ask what it was you were doing, as you made a beeline straight for his closet.

He kept his eyes trained on the entryway as you disappeared into an out of the way corner within the small space and began rummaging around. He strained his hearing, trying his best to figure out what you were looking for based on the sounds, but he couldn't be entirely too sure and gave up after a short while, resigning himself to just learning what it was when you finally emerged.

And soon enough, you did, but what you held in your hand was nearly enough to give him a heart attack, because there, dangling loosely from your grip, as if it were nothing more that a simple article of clothing, was one of the many toys he’d always kept stashed away in a trunk at the back of the closet. He’d kept them all, but after he moved you and everyone else upstairs to the main house, he’d made sure that you and he had separate closets, so you’d have a place to change clothes in private, and the trunk was placed in his, and somehow, you must have guessed that he’d do such a thing, because he had certainly never mentioned it to you.

He recognized it as one that he’d used on you fairly regularly; long and purple, it was shaped like a realistic cock, including ridges to resemble veins and complete with all the bells and whistles of a regular vibrator, it even had an attachment meant to help stimulate the clit. And whenever he used it on you back then, he always loved just letting it sit there inside of you, sometimes tucking your soaked panties around its base to help keep it in place so his hands could be free to pleasure you in other places, or stimulate himself while he watched and listened to you beg and plead with him to take it out or make the over-stimulation end.

He tried to keep you from seeing just how much the sight of you with that object was affecting, not just a certain key area of his lower body, but his mental state as well, but he highly doubted he was doing a very good job of it. He sometimes didn’t know how to act around you anymore now that he was striving to be less dominant and forceful with you. It was probably one of the hardest things he had ever done, and even now, after years of teaching himself not to react in a volatile manner when you did or said something that he didn’t approve of, it still ate away at his pride a little.

The idea of you pleasuring yourself was never a thought he allowed his mind to dwell on for too long, mostly because it was a subject that did nothing more than rub salt into the wound that was his still broken heart. All it did was remind him of those last words you spoke to him right before that terrible incident three years ago, when you said you always tried to think of someone else every time he forced himself on you. He knew you’d only said it to hurt him, but the comment most definitely hit its intended target, and every time the words unwittingly came to the forefront of his mind, it proved a challenge for him to keep himself from raging like a madman. He wanted so very badly to grab you and throw you down onto the bed, to fill you with his cock again and make you cry out his name like a prayer to the heavens, make you swear that you’d never touch yourself again unless it was to put on a show for him.

These days though, those moments were growing fewer and farther between.

He knew that his dominant and forceful approach to intimacy wasn’t something he’d ever be able to completely erase from his personality, but he promised himself that if you ever choose to be intimate with him again, he would put forth every ounce of effort he could muster towards begin better, to being a man that was worthy of your willingness and acceptance. He’d told you before that if you ever choose to be with him like that again, that things would go right back to the way they’d been and you would have no one to blame but yourself for it, and while that statement had been true at the time, that was no longer the case for him.

But seeing you standing before him now, dressed in nothing but a black nightgown that hugged all your lovely curves perfectly and holding that toy in your delicate hand, he felt his self control hanging on by a very flimsy thread as he, very unrealistically, imagined you blessedly asking him to help you with it.

He was so distracted by the sight of you that he barely heard you when you spoke and he had to awkwardly ask you to repeat yourself.

You didn’t smile or react in any way except to hold the vibrator up in the air, as if it needed to be pointed out so he’d know what you were referring to, and repeat yourself.

“This one is waterproof, right?” You asked, your face a mask of bored indifference. “I remember you used it on me in the shower a few times, or was it a different one than this? There were a few purple ones mixed in there.”

Kai blinked at you in shock, because in the last three years, not a single word had been uttered between the two of you regarding your prior sex life. He hadn’t wanted to trigger you by making references to it, and he just assumed that you never brought it up because of fairly obvious reasons. It genuinely surprised him how easily you were mentioning it, and with such a straight face and bland expression. He guessed you were only trying to goad him into reacting as pay back for what you had caught him doing earlier, but he figured it was best to move it along quickly to avoid falling into whatever trap you were potentially trying to lay out for him. His patience and self control could only stretch so far after all.

He cleared his throat and forced his gaze to turn back towards the report in his hand, not that he was actually reading it anymore, but that was beside the point.

“It’s waterproof.” He said, perhaps a bit too tightly. “It’s been years since it’s been used though, so the batteries might be dead, and it’ll need to be thoroughly cleaned.”

He hoped that would be enough to satisfy you and you’d finally take it away from his presence, but the sudden buzzing sound told him he wasn’t that lucky and he gripped the paperwork in his hand all the tighter to keep himself in check.

“Sounds like it’s working just fine to me.” You said, clicking it through all of its different settings before it went silent once more and he relaxed ever so slightly. “If you’re asleep when I get done, I’ll try not to wake you up when I come to bed.”

And with that, you walked off, quietly shutting the bathroom door behind you and leaving him alone in relative silence, but the moment he heard the sound of rushing water filling up the tub, he scrambled to turn the bedside lamp off and go to sleep as quickly as possible. He hoped he might get lucky and you’d do whatever it was you wanted with that thing while the water was still running and spare him from the potential torture of having to hear anything, or better yet, maybe you wouldn’t do anything with it at all and you taking it in there with you was just for show.

The water shut off and he waited a solid ten minutes or so before he deemed it safe to finally relax and try to fall asleep like normal, but then it happened…

He heard the muffled vibrations of the toy and the sloshing of the water, and not even a few seconds later, his keen hearing also picked up on the unmistakable sound of your quiet little moans and gasps of pleasure.

He was lying on his stomach, with his hard cock pinned uncomfortably between himself and the bed, but he refused to move and relieve himself. Even as the noises you made grew higher in pitch and more erratic, he wanted to listen to them all, to absorb them all and use them for his own fantasies, and all the while, he felt utterly torn between praying that you’d stop, and never wanting it to end. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if it was himself you were thinking of in there, if you were remembering all the ways he used to touch you and kiss you, if you were hearing his phantom voice whispering filthy words and dark promises in your ear, but most of all, he couldn’t help but wonder if you would end up feeling dirty and regretting it afterwards, if you were in fact thinking of him.

Eventually, your voice reached a pitch that couldn’t be misinterpreted as anything but that of someone reaching the peak of orgasmic pleasure and Kai found himself near to weeping in gratitude when all went quiet again before the sound of draining water filled the silence instead. He knew you would be coming out and climbing into bed at any moment and silently willed his aching cock and rising desire to calm down and lessen.

A few minutes later, after the water stopped draining from the tub, Kai heard the door quietly creak open and he listened intently while you padded across the carpeted floor and climbed into bed with him.

He was surprised when he felt you slide over and cuddle up to his back, having thought that you wouldn’t be comfortable with it tonight, but you dropped your arm across his waist and allowed your hand to rest on his stomach, dangerously close to the tip of still fully erect cock, but he certainly wasn’t about to make any complaints about it. These moments with you at night were bittersweet torture for him, but Kai wouldn’t end them for all the world, not when it was the only time he allowed himself the privilege of touching you for longer than a few scant seconds. Even if the puffs of your breath on the back of his neck made his hips and cock twitch, and the feel of your unbound breasts pressing into his shoulder-blades made him imagine rolling over-top of you and latching his mouth onto one of those sensitive little nipples through the nightshirt you currently wore.

“Kai?”

Your voice cut straight through the fog of sleep that was beginning to cloud his senses and he shifted ever so slightly to let you know he was still aware and listening.

He felt you smile against the back of his neck and stiffened when you leaned up to breathe the words against the sensitive skin behind his ear. “I just thought you should know that we’re even for now.” And to his complete shock and surprise, you laid a quick, barely there kiss to that same little spot of skin. “That’s all.”

—————

That night was the precursor to what would become this ongoing game between the two of you that had been playing out for nearly two years.

Kai hadn’t been able to get what you’d said out of his head for nearly a week afterwards, or rather, it was two words in particular that stuck with him so strongly.

‘For now.’

He might have overlooked it, had you not said it in that teasing and lilting tone of yours and concluded it with that little brush of your lips.

So, he decided to test out this new theory of his, and the next time he felt the urge to pleasure himself, he made sure you would be fully aware of it.

He’d done it simply by taking a shower at the right time and leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar, and when he heard you enter the bedroom, he hadn’t bothered to try and contain the sounds of his pleasure or stop your name from rolling off his tongue. Knowing that you had been fully aware of what he was in the midst of doing, that you were just on the other side of the door, had heightened the intensity of his orgasm when he finally found release, enough so that he’d had to take a seat on the bench in the shower to catch his breath before drying off and emerging.

You’d taken a seat in front of the tv on the other side of the large room, watching some kind of documentary, but he’d been able to tell right off the bat that you hadn’t been paying a lick of attention to it. You’d kept stealing so many sidelong glances at him that it was almost comical, and when he flashed you a knowing smirk before climbing in bed that night, he knew without a doubt that you’d understood he’d done it on purpose.

Two days later, you’d done it again as well, letting him hear every little sound that escaped your mouth while you fucked yourself with your own fingers this time, and while he never once heard his name fall from your lips, he was confident this time that it was him that you were imagining, him, and no one else.

The two of you had been at it ever since, and over time, some unspoken rules had developed between you both, especially since it had escalated and moved from the bathroom to the bedroom where you both laid side by side.

For starters, while this was something that the two of you both participated in, it was never spoken about, either during or afterwards. Neither of you sought pleasure at the same time or on the same night, and though both of you knew that the other was always listening intently and sometimes even watching, it was always done under the guise of pretending to be asleep.

“So, what made this time so difficult?” Hari asked him casually, pulling him from his introspection on these events of the past.

It seemed to be a running theme for him today.

Kai gritted his teeth as a wave of arousal washed over him. “She let my name slip again.”

Last night had been your turn, and when he’d cracked his eyes open just bit to see your fingers pinching one perfect nipple and your hips rising off the bed with the force of your orgasm, he’d nearly broken one of those unspoken rules when you’d breathlessly whisper-moaned his name. It wasn’t the first time you’d done it, but even still, it hit him just as hard whenever it did slip out.

Sometimes, whenever he let himself dwell on the thought of it for too long, he felt like it might just drive him mad.

For fear of ruining what little trust and progress you had gained with him these last five years, he could never bring himself to ask why you couldn’t simply admit that you wanted to resume sharing his bed with him in every way that counted. Not just to sleep and rest in, nor as a ruse for the sake of allowing the children to believe they still had two parents who loved one another. You knew from experience that he could bring you more pleasure in bed than you ever could hope to achieve on your own, and you obviously still wanted him, if not emotionally, then physically at the very least, and he often wondered what would happen if he were to break down and ask you about it. But every time he started to open his mouth to do so, all those ghosts of the past would creep up his spine and remind him of all the horrible ways such a thing could backfire on him and the ramifications that would follow.

As Kai continued to silently stew in his own bitter musings, Hari couldn’t help but let his own thoughts wander in the same direction.

His own relationship with your sister was at a similar standstill, but for all the opposite reasons.

After that first night, when she came to him, drunk and seeking a way to help her forget about the temporary death she and the doctor had miraculously managed to pull you back from after the horrific birth of Kazue, it hadn’t stopped after that. It was like the dam that was her iron resolve had permanently cracked after that and she couldn’t bring herself to stay away from him any longer. And even though it was mindbogglingly amazing, the best sex he had ever had in all honesty, it just so happened to be the thing tearing him apart inside, because that’s all it was.

Just sex.

She came to him for it whenever Rappa wasn’t around, and sometimes even when he was and she just wanted a change of pace. But she never stayed for very long afterwards, not unless she was interested in going at it again for multiple rounds. Beyond that first night, she never slept in his bed, nor did she allow him to sleep in hers. Once in a while she would stick around and chat with him while she got her bearings back or while she took her time getting redressed, but she never stayed for too much longer than that

There were so many times he felt that he should just give up and accept that he’d never have her the way he truly wanted, but whenever she came to him, he couldn’t bring himself to ever turn her down. He kept holding onto the hope that she’d one day see what they could have together if only she’d give him a chance and open up more than just her body to him. He could give her so much more than Rappa ever could, and she knew that, but still she refused to give him the opportunity to prove it to her.

Hari never once tried to talk to Kai about this though, as the other man had more than enough stress and worry of his own to deal with. Not to mention, he felt like talking to him about the frequency of his own sex life would probably do nothing but make his boss dwell even harder on the continued lack of it in his own relationship with you. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him to share a bed with you every night, listening to you pleasure yourself so often right beside him, and not give into the temptation of touching you. He might not fully understand why Kai let this stalemate with you drag on for so long, but he couldn’t deny how much he admired the man’s level of restraint and determination to see his promise to you fulfilled.

Neither of them spoke much after that, and their once companionable silence soon morphed into morose brooding as each of them continued to dwell on the issues surrounding the women in their lives.

For those of you who aren’t aware, I set up a poll a few days ago asking whether or not I should split this finale into two parts, and while it was a close match, the majority said they wanted it split, so that’s what this is.

I apologize that this entire chapter was Kai-centric, I know a lot of people prefer to read entirely from the Reader’s POV, but I felt that an entire chapter/part from Kai’s perspective was necessary to get across the changes he’s gone through during the time-skip.

We’ll be getting back to the Reader in the next chapter though and you’ll all get to see how she’s been fairing, rather than hearing about it secondhand from Kai. So I’m hoping to have Part 2 finished and posted in a couple of weeks, so please be on the lookout! 🥰

I hope you all enjoy this and please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! Thank you for all the support!

And as always, I want to give a BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn’t for all of their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to read this to go over to their page or their AO3 account under the sam name and check out their works, especially Chaos and Lost Song. They are two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME! And who has also started their own Yandere!Overhaul fic called Crossroads and is set in a 1920′s prohibition style era, it’s amazing and you need to check it out!

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tryan-a-bex · 11 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), InCryptid - Seanan McGuire Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gault & Jed Walker, Antimony Price/Sam Taylor Characters: Jed Walker, Gault (The Sandman), Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman), Alice Price-Healy, Antimony Price, Sam Taylor (InCryptid) Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Torture, flensing, Explosives, Grenades, Knives, Nightmares, Nightmare death, jed walker is a knight, gaulcienne, Canon-Typical Violence, Alice is just being herself, Separation Anxiety, Tea Parties, talking is better than fighting, it's sweet and fluffier than it sounds i promise Series: Part 6 of Walking with the Walkers, Part 10 of A Quiet Love with Wings Summary:

“I hate to ask you this, Gault, but it has to be a Major Arcana and I have a feeling Fiddler’s Green is too peaceful and the Corinthian is too violent. I need someone who can talk her down.” “Of course, Lucienne. You know I will always be willing to help you.” “I know, love! But be careful, will you? None of the nightmares who have been assigned to her this week have come back, and we don’t know what she is doing to them.” “I promise to be careful. I’ll come back to you, Lucienne. Major Arcana, after all. And hopefully whatever she is doing to her nightmares, she won’t do it to a dream.” “Go with my love, then.”

@monsterfucktoberbingo for the cryptid square

#incryptid #gaulcienne #gault and jed #gault #lucienne the librarian #jed walker #alice price-healy #annie price #annie and sam #tryana find it back #the sandman #tw explosives #tw torture #tw knives #no one gets hurt but there is past violence referenced and some threatened violence #it's incryptid canon

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steddieassheg0es · 8 months

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Jump in the Fire

Eddie Munson doesn’t know how to listen to good sense. Don’t go flirting with pretty boys. Definitely don’t go falling for pretty boys. Don’t go poking around where you don’t belong. Don’t go back into the mall where a giant spider monster is trying to kill your friends… Or: a story of how Eddie Munson stumbles into something so much bigger than he ever planned by walking into Scoops Ahoy. Read or listen on AO3

Author: Me :) @steddieassheg0es / SteddieAsSheGoes AO3

Podfic and Cover art by : @n0connections / NoConnections AO3

Thank you so much to @steddiebang for the Steddie Big Bang 2023, I'm so thrilled to have been involved!

And a HUGE thank you to @n0connections for choosing my fic, creating an amazing podfic, and having endless patience with my temperamental writer brain. I couldn't have done it without you.

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process-pending · 2 years

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Bowed over, hand curled around the safety bar the only thing keeping Jaskier standing as he sent up silent plea after plea to wake from this nightmare. No answer came, not because he didn't think Destiny was listening but it wasn't within even her power to rewrite reality.

To the Night We Met (Chapter 3)

#Witcher #Modern AU #Biker AU #Hurt/Comfort #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Hurt Jaskier #Disabled Jaskier #Major Character Injury #Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence #Implied/Referenced Abuse #Past Jaskier/Valdo Marx #Trials #Angst With a Happy Ending #Geraskier #Found Family #Fluff #Angst #Take Me Back (To the Night We Met)#To the Night We Met

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spncompostheap · 1 year

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"Castiel!"

Cas Novak jolted awake, unable to shake off the vivid dream of his mother's voice still echoing in his ears. Slicing through the air like lightning, electrifying his senses, Cas’s mind reeled as he spiraled back through time to that fateful night, just after his ninth birthday.

Tightening his grip on the blankets pooling at his waist, a chill ran through Cas as he surveyed the dimly lit bedroom. His eyes strained against the darkness, as an unmistakable sense of disorientation overtook him. As his most intrusive memories surged forward, Cas suddenly felt too helpless to fight against them as they relentlessly pushed their way into the forefront of his reality.

Cautiously, Cas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Within moments, he’d been overwhelmed by a tidal wave of pain, fear, and loss—everything came crashing back, threatening to consume him until he fled the confines of his bedroom completely hoping to escape into the kitchen instead.

Raised voices filled his mind coupled with the sound of shattering glass, and his mother's desperate, unanswered pleas for help.

Pressing a trembling hand against the cool countertop, Cas’s mind etched every detail into his consciousness amidst his futile attempts at grounding himself. Pinching the meat of his outer thigh and intentionally digging in his fingernails, Cas was unprepared for the sensation of utter numbness which followed. As his heart raced, and breathing became ragged, Cas began to abandon all hope of remaining tethered within reality.

His mother's eyes were wide with fear as she had pleaded with him directly. “Just go back to bed, Castiel! Please, just go back to bed-”

Cas’s gaze shifted towards the refrigerator, as he longed for the familiar heaviness from having consumed a large but satisfying meal. Tension filled the air, pressing down on him. Despite the cool rush of air and the bright light that flooded the small kitchenette as the refrigerator door clicked open, time seemed to fold back upon itself. In that moment, Cas felt overwhelmed, knowing that he couldn't stop any of it now.

His father materialized before his eyes, face contorted with rage, as he had pinned his terrified wife against the wall with sheer brute force and the imminent threat of more violence to come.

Cas’s hands were already instinctively moving without his consent as he located last night's leftover pizza, a package of mini powdered donuts and the brand new box of Cookie-O’s cereal Anna had just brought home from the store. A quick scan of the freezer had revealed a gallon of vanilla ice cream his Aunt had tried to place just out of reach. Shoving aside frozen broccoli and healthy choice TV dinners, Cas had easily freed the ice cream from its hiding place before finding a spoon and spreading his entire cache of food items out across the counter.

He felt so very small as his father turned to face him, momentarily loosening his grip on his wife’s slender wrists.

The lid discarded without a second thought, Cas had attacked the gallon of ice cream with a large spoon, shoveling vanilla into his mouth as fast as humanly possible. Spoonful after spoonful, the cool sweetness of the ice cream mingled with the bitterness of his memories. Each bite was another desperate attempt to drown out the echoes of that night and chase away the pain before it became too unbearable.

His mother took advantage of her husband’s distraction and tried to make a break for it. Cas’s heart jumped into his throat as his father spun around, grabbing his mother by her hair, with his unyielding strength.

Before too long, Cas’s spoon hit the bottom of the ice cream carton. Dazed by the perceived loss, he raised the empty container to his lips, gulping down any residual melted goodness until nothing remained.

His parents scuffled until his father finally succeeded in overpowering his mother once more, pushing her down face first in one complete gesture. Cas’s mother lost her balance and fell to the ground.

With a heavy sigh, Cas forced himself to keep eating, his eyes now fixated on the leftover pizza before him. Driven by ravenous phantom hunger pains, Cas devoured slice after slice, the flavors of greasy cheese and savory toppings providing a momentary distraction from the torrent of haunting images flooding his mind.

Cas glanced down in horror at his mother’s now motionless form. A steadily growing puddle of blood had begun to engulf her body, seeping through her cotton nightgown.

Cas's fingers moved with a frenetic urgency, searching for something, anything, that might keep the demons away. His hunger persisted, clawing at his insides, refusing to be silenced as he grabbed the mini powdered donuts off the counter, tearing the packaging away.

Cas fled his father's rage, desperately seeking safety. He rushed into the bathroom, fumbling to lock the door behind him. Collapsing inside the bathtub, Cas curled into a ball, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees while trying to shield himself from the terrors of the outside world.

White powdery residue clung to Cas's fingers as he had shoveled all twenty-four miniature donuts into his mouth in rapid succession. Sugar coursed through his veins, eliciting a brief thrill of endorphins. Chewing mechanically, Cas was distantly aware of his increasing physical discomfort. One hand dropped to his waist absent-mindedly as he pushed the elastic waistband of his pajamas pants farther below the curve of his overstuffed belly.

His father’s panicked cries permeated the air in the aftermath of what he’d done. His voice sounded alarmingly unhinged until he remembered his son and shifted focus towards trying to bang down the bathroom door.

Ripping into the massive box of Cookie-O's cereal next, Cas extracted the interior plastic lining before casually discarding the empty cardboard box onto the floor. Proceeding to cram fistfulls of miniature cookie-shaped pieces into his mouth, Cas desperately tried to stave off the intensity of unshed tears, fearing they would consume him.

When he finally ran out of food, a flicker of realization crossed his face as the room around him started to lose its form, and the once-familiar surroundings began to merge into a disturbing kaleidoscope of unreality. When the floor beneath him shifted before melting away, he felt the distinct sensation of treading water as if some powerful current were trying to drag him below.

“I know you know where she hid my gun, Castiel! You need to tell me where your mother put it right now or so help me I’ll be forced to-!”

Frantically searching through the shelves for more food amidst the chaotic emotional replay of his most traumatic memories, Cas was overtaken by fear until his hands had landed on the bottle of cooking oil his aunt kept near the stove for frying things.

Cas was acutely aware of his father’s ability to rip their house apart down to the floorboards until he found what he was looking for.

Although Anna’s economy sized Canola oil was an unusual choice, it was technically considered a food item. Still caught in the past and too far outside of his own body to function, Cas sought out whatever means necessary to physically weigh himself down. So he unscrewed the cap, as his fingers closed around the thick plastic bottle and took a big sip. As the viscous, oily liquid coated his tongue and slipped down his throat, the act of drinking something so thick and filling began to serve its purpose.

When the gun went off, it was louder than anything Cas could have ever possibly imagined, yet still did little to drown out the subtle thud of his father's body hitting the floor.

Cas continued to drink until the thought of consuming more left him dangerously close to vomiting. Cradling his overfull stomach, Cas stumbled into the adjacent living room, slumping hard against the couch. Then slowly, returning to his body once Cas’s eyes tilted downwards as he palmed the sturdy firmness of his distended belly. As his anxiety and emotional distress faded into exhaustion, Cas allowed himself to accept the rush of comfort flooding his senses. Although Cas knew he should probably feel guilty, or at the very least disgusted with himself, for surrendering to his unhealthiest of coping mechanisms. Having been on antipsychotics for over a year now, it had become that much harder to hate himself, even amid times of crisis.

***

As light filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a gentle morning glow, Anna Milton appeared already dressed in her nursing uniform. Surveying the small kitchenette and adjacent living room, Anna’s gaze settled upon her loudly snoring nephew and the remnants of yet another midnight feast, the third one this week by her count. With subtle concern etched into her features, Anna approached Cas where he slept, balled up on the living room couch.

Anna paused to observe Cas as he rested, noting how one of his arms pressed tightly against the worn polyester upholstery, while the other clutched his rounded midsection as though he were experiencing discomfort. Ignoring the beads of sweat dotting across Cas's forehead, Anna bent down slowly before reaching out and carefully freeing one of her nephew’s arms. Gently pressing two fingers against Cas's radial artery at the pulse point, she made a conscious effort to avoid touchinging the angriest of his vertical scars. After counting to sixty twice just to make sure, Anna released a deep sigh, exhaling a torrent of breath she hadn't realized she’d been holding in.

Taken aback by her nephew's striking resemblance to her late sister, Anna felt further compelled to alleviate all the hardships life had thrown Cas’s way. While the continued nighttime binge eating was far from ideal, it stood out in sharp contrast to Cas’s ongoing struggles with anxiety, depression, and PTSD. Having nearly lost him several times throughout his short life, Anna treasured every day she had parenting her eccentric young nephew. She was also profoundly grateful for her continued collaboration with Dr. Mia Vallens, a psychiatrist whose expertise had been consistently demonstrated over the years through her innate ability to help Cas navigate his traumatic past.

Sticking to a strict routine of weekly therapy sessions alongside a carefully prescribed regimen of psychiatric medications seemed to be, at last, proving effective in keeping Cas's intrusive suicidal thoughts under control. So, even though moments of grief still crept in from time to time, when she missed the boy he could have been, Anna had learned to value Cas’s enduring resilience above all else.

"Time to wake up and take your meds, Cas," Anna whispered, keeping her voice intentionally low to avoid startling him.

Cas woke up slowly, his blue eyes blinking in the morning sun. He stretched, sat up, and then managed a small, tired smile that Anna suspected was meant purely for her benefit.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. It seems like you had quite the culinary adventure again last night," Anna said, pausing when she noticed Cas looking somewhat bewildered.

“Maybe you had bad dreams last?" Anna suggested placing a comforting hand on Cas's shoulder.

"I, uh, I don't entirely remember, but it seems like I might have gotten carried away again. I'm so sorry, Anna," Cas confessed, fidgeting with the fraying hem of his shirt.

"Oh Cas, you don’t have to apologize for anything. Just remember that you can always wake me overnight if you need to, alright? I'm here to support you, Cas," Anna said, trying to reassure him.

"Thank you Anna, I truly appreciate that," Cas said quietly, still looking away.

With a gentle squeeze of her nephew’s shoulder, Anna made her way back to the kitchen, determined to help him start the day on a positive note. She retrieved Cas's weekly pillbox, checking over each compartment’s meticulous organization. It was a testament to the structured routine they had both had a part in while trying to manage Cas’s ongoing mental health. Filling a tall glass with cool, filtered water, Anna placed it neatly beside the box of medications on the countertop. As she arranged these items, a soft smile crept across Anna’s face, a quiet reflection of much progress Cas had made in just the last year alone. Soon he would be turning fifteen at the end of the summer, and while the passage of time was evident in his growing maturity, her unwavering support for him remained constant in their shared journey towards happiness and well-being.

Removing a clean bowl and spoon from the dishwasher, Anna searched high and low for the recently purchased box of cereal. While she was well aware that Cookie O's probably wasn’t the healthiest choice for her nephew, his meds still needed to be taken with food. Additionally, the familiar childhood favorite always seemed to help, even during Cas's most challenging days. As her gaze swept across the kitchen, Anna frowned momentarily, giving in to disappointment over the now-empty cereal box laying discarded on the floor. Taking a deep breath, Anna tried to center herself, before refocusing her attention back onto Cas. Forcing herself to remember that Cas’s progress always came in small steps, could not be rushed, and that setbacks were a natural part of the journey.

***

Cas had woken up slowly, still grasping at details of what exactly had transpired overnight. Although he’d already figured out that he must've overdone it again with the eating thing, given Anna’s persistent hovering rather than her getting ready for work. While Cas genuinely tried to avoid all the negative shit that might push him into a bout of overthinking, he couldn't ignore the signs of having had another episode. Summoning the will to stand, Cas couldn't ignore how much heavier his body was getting. Touching his lips, he found them and his fingers to be smeared thickly with grease. The hint of acid reflux burned down the back of his throat, and there was considerably more tension gathering in his lower back from carrying so much new and extra weight. All these strangely familiar discomforts combined could only mean one thing, and judging from Anna’s increased weirdness around him, Cas hardly needed to guess what.

"Well, I guess we're out of cereal again," Anna said, her voice thick with annoyance as she paced around the kitchen.

Cas glanced up from taking his third pill out of five. His aunt was standing in front of him, her eyes closed, as she hugged an empty cereal box closely against her chest. Cas watched her for a moment, then went back to taking his piss. Studying his last one intently before swallowing it down with the remainder of water from his glass. There was no question how majorly his current medications were impacting his health both in positive and negative ways. This is especially true now that Dr. Vallens had increased all his dosages to accommodate his increased weight.

While Cas wasn’t terribly concerned about side effects like increased appetite or nighttime eating, he understood why Anna was so concerned. Not so long ago, he’d gotten very depressed, to the point where he couldn't even get out of bed or even go outside. Everything had felt impossible and he’d regrettably shut Anna out completely. Instead withdrawing further into himself, Cas made peace with despair, and had almost given in to his darkest, most impulsive desire.

Having survived long enough now to have begun processing his trauma and accepting his continued existence, Cas knew he couldn’t afford to slip back into his previous headspace. Food had always been there for him though, no matter what challenges he faced. So, while consistently overeating probably wasn't the healthiest way to deal with his stress, Cas figured it was a pretty good trade-off considering the alternative.

Flitting around the kitchen, Anna offered to make Cas scrambled eggs only moments after he’d resigned himself to frozen waffles instead. Even though the waffles were the extra healthy whole grain kind that tasted like cardboard, Cas knew better than to enable Anna when she was already cutting it close to being late for work. Busying himself with finding a clean plate and grabbing the peanut butter, Cas ignored the way Anna’s eyes followed him as she pretended to refill her already full coffee to-go mug.

Cas was well aware of his aunt's increased worries about his health, even if she never specifically said anything out loud. Mostly because It was usually a lost cause to convince her otherwise, and since he’d started steadily packing on more weight over the last couple of months, the whole issue had become a pretty awkward topic for both of them. Sometimes, Cas wished he could press a magical button that would make him normal again. Maybe then Anna would calm down long enough to try and relax.

"I want you to promise that you’ll do something for me today." Anna said, stopping abruptly while locating her car keys.

"Okay, and what would that be?" Cas snapped, failing to mask his sudden defensiveness.

"Relax, Cas, it's nothing too serious," Anna said, pausing briefly to select her words with care.

"I'd really like it if you could spend some time outside today while I'm at work,"

"Fine." Cas said, rolling his eyes with dramatic intent.

"Oh, come on, Cas," Anna teased, her eyes sparkling playfully.

"Fresh air and vitamin D can do wonders for the soul!"

Although he remained skeptical, Cas always found it hard to resist Anna's infectious enthusiasm. They had been addressing his avoidance of going outside in family therapy for a while now, and Cas was fully aware of his tendencies toward agoraphobia. Now that summer was nearly in full swing, he had exhausted all of his weather-related reasons for staying inside.

"Here's an idea," Anna continued, her voice carrying a mischievous tone.

"If you’ll agree to set foot in the backyard for just ten minutes today, I'll treat you to cheeseburgers and fries for dinner."

Cas's resistance wavered as his lips had twitched into a faint smile. Even though he knew Anna was only trying to sweeten the deal, he needed her to know that he could manage this one small task on his own, without added incentive.

"It's alright, Anna," Cas said eventually .

"You don't have to bribe me. I'll go outside if that's what you want."

Anna's eyes softened with gratitude as she pulled Cas into a quick hug.

"Thank you, Cas," she said, her voice filled with warmth.

"I appreciate this more than you know."

As Cas watched Anna heading to her car, he made a mental note to try to embrace the outside world at some point during his day. Little did he know how this decision would profoundly change everything about life as he knew it, forever.

#supernatural fanfiction #wip #angst with a happy ending #eventual destiel #high school au #tw: domestic violence #tw: PTSD flashbacks #tw: binge eating #tw: implied / referenced past suicide attempt and self harm

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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

Text

bodyguard

words: 2.1k

warnings: bodyguard!rafe, pop star!reader, gun mention, attempted kidnapping, brief violence, fluffy

you take a deep breath, clenching the microphone in your first. no matter how many times you perform, you still feel a rush of anxiety.

it all disappears when you step out onto the stage. you give the crowd a wave as the cheers erupt. you look around the packed stadium, reminiscing on what it was like to play smaller venues until your hit single and big break.

your in ear piece begins the countdown to your music as you lean down to reach out to a couple fans in the front row, looking past your personal bodyguard who insists on being in front of the stage despite the venue providing security.

you begin to sing the first song of your set, turning your attention to the entire crowd as your backup dancers come out, flooding the stage.

the show goes by so quickly you almost miss the feeling as you step behind the curtain, despite the exhaustion creeping into your bones.

“here.” your bodyguard hands you a water bottle, a straw already pushed inside, knowing you prefer it over drinking straight from the rim.

“what would i do without you rafe.” you chuckle. he was the first bodyguard you ever hired, having had your ass slapped one night and deciding you needed someone to watch your back.

“probably be kidnapped.” rafe shrugs, making you roll your eyes, used to the playful back and forth banter.

“and if it weren't for me, you'd still be in north carolina.”

“perk of the job.” rafe says, referencing the three continents you've visited with him in tow, soon to announce a world tour that will visit all major cities with enough time in between to actually enjoy the traveling.

“dressing room or straight to the bus?” rafe asks, following you as you begin to walk, stepping past the stagehands rushing to disassemble the set and get it on the move.

“dressing room. left my crocs in there.” it's routine, rafe entering the dressing room and doing a sweep before letting you in, even if it's just to grab your shoes and leave.

“wait, gonna change them before we go to the bus.” you tell rafe, the arches of your feet hurting from dancing in heels. rafe gives you his arm to hold as you bend down to undo the straps before slipping out of the glittery stilletos and into your comfortable, well worn, crocs.

rafe peeks out the back door. “there's some fans by the fence. we going right to the bus or stopping to sign?”

“stopping to sign.” you know it's not possible to show your appreciation to every single fan, but you're certainly going to try your best to greet every person who helped you become the pop sensation you are.

rafe pulls two sharpies out of his pocket, one black and one silver and hands them to you before swinging the door open.

the mini crowd erupts into screams as soon as they see you. you're sure these must be fans who didn't get a chance to attend as there's no way they could have cleared from the venue this quickly.

“hey everyone!” you wave as you walk to the chain link fence, knowing rafe is right at your back, just in case anyone gets handy. it wouldn't be the first time an excited fan reached through an opening and refused to let go of your wrist.

you begin to sign everything offered to you, even seeing a fan who brought your original ep you used to send to record labels.

“can i get a picture?”

“of course!” you smile, taking the phone that is passed through the slot and snapping a selfie with the happy fan.

you continue down the line, about halfway through when you shiver, the adrenaline wearing off and the cold of the night air seeping into your bones, especially since you're still in your stage outfit which doesn't give you much coverage.

you should have known rafes eagle eye would see, because he's soon shrugging off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders, of course the crowd awwing.

rafe has gotten quite a bit of attention as your bodyguard, considering he follows you practically everywhere, he's photographed by fans constantly.

you were worried at first when you continued to skyrocket in fame that rafe would become uncomfortable or overwhelmed and you'd have to find someone new that you felt comfortable with, but hes stuck by your side the whole time.

“okay, sorry guys i gotta go!” you wave to everyone, having signed or taken a picture with everyone who gathered by the back exit fence.

you quickly rush to the tour bus, the corset of your outfit beginning to press in uncomfortably.

you don't have to use your words to tell rafe what you're about to do. as soon as he does a sweep through the bus, having you wait in the front next to the drivers seat so you could run out at any minute, you head to the back and take a shower, washing away your makeup and the pounds of hairspray added to your bangs.

you get changed into pajamas, knowing you're scheduled to hit the road tonight. it probably would be easier to fly private, or even just buy a jet, but you like the tour life of driving around and try to be environmentally conscious where you can.

you head back into the common area, rafe sitting in his usual spot on the couch, his gun that usually remains holstered to his hip now sitting on the counter.

it scared you the first time you saw it. you knew you hired an armed bodyguard, but to have a gun just sitting there was not something you were used to.

“here.” rafe grabs a bag from the counter you didn't even notice.

“you got me fries?” you ask excitedly, taking the bag and quickly pulling a fry out, letting out a low moan when you take a bite and realize it's still hot.

“ill add personal assistant to my resume.” rafe smirks.

“resume? you leaving me?” you laugh, plopping down on the couch next to rafe.

“never.” he vows. when rafe originally began to work in security, it was a way to get away from his dad, to have an excuse to leave at night, and now he can never imagine going back home to the life he once lived.

conversation shifts to upcoming plans as you finish off your fries and let out a yawn.

“alright, bed time.” you stand up and stretch, eyes closing as your back elongates. you completely miss the way rafe has to readjust his pants.

“goodnight.” rafe says as you give him a wave and head back into the bedroom, closing the door for some privacy as you flop onto the bed and delve beneath the covers, falling asleep easily knowing you're protected.

“aw, yes!” you hiss, looking out the window as the bus pulls into the rest stop. “back in the midwest baby, you know what that means.”

“what?” rafe questions, joining you to look out the window. he's dressed casually and not in all black like usual when he's working since today is just travel, and the light blue shirt he's wearing is making your heartbeat a little faster, even if you try to ignore it.

“tim hortons!” you exclaim. “we've got to get their sour cream glazed timbits. they're like crack.”

“and what would you know about crack?” rafe scoffs.

“alright, just because i didn't have a bad boy past like you doesn't mean-” you're cut off by rafe laughing. “okay, okay.” you hold your hands up. “i don't even know what it looks like.”

“that's what i thought.” rafe places a hand on your back as the bus comes to a stop. “now come on, let's get your timbits or whatever you said.”

you head out so happy and in such a rush that rafe doesn't remember to grab his gun, figuring nothing could happen at a rest stop early in the morning with practically no one around.

“hi!” you smile at the worker as you enter the building. she seems to half recognize you but doubt herself. “can we get a 10 pack of sour cream glazed timbits and another 10 pack that's a mix of the other flavors?”

the worker nods and begins putting it in the system as you turn to look at rafe. “just in case you don't like the same as me.”

“okay.” rafe laughs, stepping a bit closer to you as you pull your card out and pay.

you step to the side to wait, watching with excitement as the timbits are scooped in.

“thank you so much!” you take both of the cardboard containers and follow rafe back outside. the morning sun is shining brightly, causing you both to squint.

rafe turns quickly when a van suddenly squeels to a stop right behind you.

he watches in horror as the door swings open, his long stride causing him to be too far away to immediately grab you as he takes off into a sprint.

you feel the hands around your waist before you even contemplate what is happening. you scream out, looking to rafe and seeing the worry in his face as you're being pulled backwards into the back of the van.

“rafe! rafe!” you squeal, kicking your legs and trying to hit your attacker, throwing the box over your shoulder to try and get him to stop, but you're overpowered.

the man is just about to slam the door shut, trapping you in there with the stranger when rafes hand stops the metal and shoves it back open, his bicep rippling with strength.

“duck.” is all rafe says, but you understand instantly, trying to get as low as possible as his first surges forward, connecting the attackers face before pulling back and continuing to punch until his grip on you loosens.

rafe grabs you instead, and you move quickly, pressing yourself against his body, molding yourself against him as your arms and legs wrap around his torso.

as soon as you're out, the van speeds away, knowing they've lost their one chance to get you. rafe moves quickly, running back towards the tour bus with you gripping onto him tightly.

you manage to hold in your tears until you're shut inside the safety of the bus. when the crying comes, it comes hard in sobs that make rafes chest physically hurt.

“i got you.” rafe sits down on the couch, keeping you in his lap as he tries to comfort you, hand rubbing up and down your back. “i got you baby.”

you cries are so loud rafe isn't sure you can hear him, especially when you start to hyperventilate.

“hey.” rafe takes your face in his hands, seeing the fear in your eyes as you struggle to actually take it any air. “take a breath for me, you're gonna pass out.”

you try, you really do, but you can't control your body as you continue to hyperventilate. rafe doesn't know what to do, he needs some sort of distraction or way to make you stop.

his face surges forward, his body working before his mind does as his lips press against yours, pressing a smashing kiss against your mouth.

you stop instantly, mind settling as your lips move against his, upset when you have to pull away to take in a gulping breath of fresh oxygen.

“it's okay.” rafes thumbs smooth over your cheeks. a mutual understanding comes over you both. this was bound to happen, and you don't need words to talk about what your relationship just became. “i got you. i got you.”

you nod, breathing deeply, finally able to control your body as you inhale and exhale until your lungs are full enough to lean forward and kiss rafe again. he doesn't hesitate for even a second before kissing back, his arms moving to wrap around you, pressing you further into him to deepen the kiss, only pulling away when the door shuts, your driver back in her spot.

“you okay?” rafe asks, his voice soft as he looks at you.

“i think after some more kisses i will be.” you giggle, cheeks blushing.

“and some timbits?”

“oh my god, those fuckers have them!” you gasp, your eyebrows scrunching together, making rafe laugh.

he presses a kiss against your lips, barely able to stop smiling to do so. “are you more mad they tried to take you or more mad they successfully took your donuts?”

you roll your eyes. “the timbits, duh.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

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rafecameroninterlude · 3 months

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hi angel! i love your work so much and fell in love with bambi!reader, so i was hoping you could write something for me ^_^

can you pls pls pls write bambi!reader comforting rafe after he gets into it with ward? i feel like she’d know exactly how to comfort himmm (pure fluff pls, i read too much smut lmaooo)

warnings: ward cameron, arguing, shouting, a little bit of physical violence, poor rafe who deserves so much better, mention of murder (i’m not referencing peterkin), fluff, soft petting, words of affirmation

a/n: aww bambi!reader has been getting so much love, it makes my heart happy to know that you enjoy the works that she’s in <3

“you had one job, rafe.. one!” ward had been shouting at rafe for nearly an hour already, his face flush with anger. “you really have a way of fucking things up, huh? i should put a caution sign on your forehead.” rafe’s fist clenched as he listened to his father, trying his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest with every word that ward spat.

“i already told you that i couldn’t close out the business accounts and wire the money to a different one. apparently i’m not next in line to own cameron development anymore. ‘you know something about that?” rafe was in disbelief when he had to find out from a service representative that his own father took him off of the family business, something that he worked hard all these years for in order to prove he was worthy of running.

ward froze. he had forgotten about that. “were you ever gonna tell me, or were you just gonna be a coward about it?” rafe stood up, towering over his father with that crazy look in his eyes. “what you forgot to do before you faked your own death instead of facing your problems like a man, was take my name off of the inheritance of tanneyhill.” he laughed, “i own this shit now.” rafe stepped closer, backing ward into the wall. “get out of my house.” ward was seething, his hand coming up to fist rafe’s shirt.

“your house? i’m the one who worked like a dog to get us here.” ward said through gritted teeth, shoving rafe in his chest. rafe stumbled, scoffing out a laugh as he then pushed his father. “worked like a dog to get us here but you were more than willing to leave me here while you start a new life in fuckin’ guadeloupe.” rafe fought to keep his emotions at bay.

“leave. and don’t ever come back.” ward’s chest was rising and falling, both him and rafe glaring at one another. “you’re cut off. good luck keeping up with this place on your own.” ward smiled bitterly. “cut off?” rafe narrowed his eyes, “i’ve been cut off, dad. i haven’t used a cent of yours since i was nineteen. all this time i’ve been making money my own way, and a lot of it too. ‘seems like your old man brain forgot about that.” rafe nudged ward as he walked past, his father following him out of the master bedroom.

“i’m leaving. when i come back i want you out of here,” rafe grabbed his truck keys, his skin on fire as he looked up the staircase, “and by the way, asshole, i’m not by myself. i got the prettiest girl on the island on my arm everywhere i go.” ward watched as his son walked out the front door. rafe was seeing red the whole time he drove to your house, cursing under his breath as he recalled his father’s words.

“the fucking nerve that guy has.” he punched the steering wheel, nostrils flaring as tears pricked at his eyes. he was the only one who was there to take care of things when ward was ‘gone’. even going as far as committing crimes so his father wouldn’t face any kind of scrutiny. yet, there he was telling him that he was a fuck up.

rafe spent the next five minutes mumbling to himself, his hands shaking as he parked outside your driveway. you were curled up on the porch swing, an open book in your lap when he walked up the stone path. all it took was one look at your boyfriend to have you scrambling up from your seat, eager to soothe him in any way you can. “oh, ray, what’s wrong?” you guided him inside, locking the door shut before both of you made your way up to your room.

“it’s ward. he came back just to tell me shit about not closing the bank accounts under cameron development.” you knew all about rafe’s conflict with his father. from the way he favored everyone else over his eldest, to the constant nagging and insults. sitting rafe down on the edge of your bed, you couldn’t help the way your heart sunk at the sight of defeat in his shoulders, his eyes void of any emotion.

slipping his shoes off, you took your usual seat in his lap, stroking the outline of his jaw as he vented. “i’ll never be good enough for him. i killed for him goddamit, and what do i get in return? ‘i should put a caution sign on your forehead.’ rafe imitated ward’s voice from earlier. you blinked, pecking his cheek. “you’re an amazing son, rafe. shame on him for not recognizing that.” rafe stared up at you, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

you were the only one that looked at him with pure adoration, the only one who made him feel like he had a purpose. “i think you’re amazing, rafe. you don’t sit around, waiting to get things done, you’re so helpful, and so, so kind— to me.” he chuckled at the clarification, rubbing a large hand over your knee. “you think so?” he leaned his head against your chest, your arms coming up to hold him. “i know so.” you sighed, breathing in his scent.

“wanna be little spoon tonight?” your voice alone made him relax, his eyes fluttering shut.

“..yeah.”

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crazyapplekiss · 2 years

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Bloodsoaked - part 3

Hands clenching, Himiko did her best to maintain her calm as she silently observed the peoples behaviour and actions, disgusted by what she found.

Despite their unstable history, she’d given them the benefit of the doubt, allowing them to grow and flourish on their own for decades, completely untampered with. Some had done exactly that, growing and flourishing in ways she’d never dared to hope that they would, their hunger for learning, adapting, and creating, something that even her kind found admirable yet futile.

Sadly however…. they were not the only ones who thrived.

Like parasitic pests, others had risen up with the sole purpose of snuffing out that creativity and growth, using these others' accomplishments to destroy, subdue, and devour, greedily and without remorse. Both demon and human alike. Slowly and steadily, they had gained traction, strangling the life from the brighter sparks and using them to fuel their own temporary gains, all the whilst convincing them that these things were for their own good.

It infuriated her.

After watching and waiting for quite some time, she finally came to a decision, a grim resignation taking hold in her core as she allowed her simmering rage to burn brighter, bolstering her for the arduous task that laid ahead.

It was time these people were reminded of the tenuous grip they held on their own fates, and the reason they once feared and respected the beings that lived in the dark.

------

Standing on the rooftop, Himiko licked her lips, savouring the taste of the slayer's blood on her tongue. Their blood was always sweet, bursting over her tongue and making in her mouth water for more. Her life was easy, wondering from town to town as she ate her fill. The years blurred together as she moved along with a sluggish pace making her number climb as she went. Yes life was rather easy, yet. Yet today seemed to be the one to pick at her carefully structured plans and fray it at the edges.

She had put many slayers in their graves in her lifetime of wandering, even eaten four hashira that thought they could disturb her calm lull with their ire. But today, a particular slayer stood proud and tall before her, bruised and bleeding, letting the sweet scent of blood waft in the air lighting her nerves on fire.

He was a tall boy, his hair a bright red colour. Strong muscles and steel eyes. The twisted, pained look on his face didn’t suit him. It carried a tiredness that didn’t belong on a face that still held traces of baby fat on his cheeks. It reminded her of something, something buried far too deep under the haze of the creature’s snapping jaws in her chest, far beneath the rib cage and mass of bodies in her blood. Somewhere she can recall the same steel edge stare piercing her own a long time ago, bright fire red hair and soft skin. Oh how she tried to remember but the memory got lost behind the flavour of blood and flesh. She tried so hard and yet -

The memory always shattered like porcelain.

“You're sweet,”Himiko says, smiling sweetly as she bares her fangs. She’s already made a meal of his quarry, all scattered bloody masses of half eaten and bludgeoned corpses of limbs and innards. It’s been so long since she’s tasted blood so sweet, it makes her skin prickle with warmth.

“And you're disgusting,”he says, his voice is calm and for a moment it makes her pause at the sheer metal he has. He hasn’t paled in the slightest, even when everyone else had tried to flee.”How can you do things like this to human beings?”

“Come darling, come let me taste you”He lunges at her swinging and twisted his body as he goes. She moves so effortlessly and lets him tire himself as he attacks relentlessly. Once or twice he nicks her, but her blood bubbles and moves as if it has a life of its own as it’s spilled, hardening and cutting him up.

She toys with him for a while, but she doesn’t have forever, the sun will eventually come up. She coils her blood around him and watches his face pale as the sword breaks as it hits her skin. She throws him to the ground, piercing each limb to keep him pinned to the ground as she settles herself over him, surveying her meal.

“You fought so well,”she says, watching him squirm as she licks blood from his wounds. His arms and legs are useless at the point. She made sure to crush the bones.”why do you keep trying. Winning a battle like this is futile”

His eyes bore into hers as she leaned over him, as if she was trying to stare into his very soul. Years of watching the humans continue to thrive even as demons roamed the lands and even fight back made her wonder why they tried so desperately to survive.

“I do this because it’s my duty”he says, his voice trembling slightly. Looking close, Himiko can see how he clenches his jaw and the veins raise under his skin. Probably from pain.”I choose to come after you because it’s my responsibility. I won’t ever stop until creatures like you are gone from this earth”

Doesn't he know it’s futile to survive? Humans try so hard and yet in the end they’ll lose it all? Had she been that way once?

Himiko hums as she traces lines on his face with her sharp nails, entranced by the welts that form there. What kind of responsibility does he think he has? With someone as capable and as strong as her.

“What kind of duty do you think you have to take my head?”she asks “Why do you think it will matter, when I eat as fast as you can grow”

“My grandmother told me about you,”he says. Himiko has no interest in someone’s life story. Her finger hovers over his jugular, testing the feeling of the throbbing pulse beneath the layer of skin. It’s hot and the pulse jumps wildly possibly from blood loss ”Her name was Yua Watanabe ”

The name makes her pause. It’s been so long, the name makes the shriveled up thing beneath her ribs throb and ache. Yua, the name gives her so many conflicting emotions, she remembers soft smiles and joyful laughs. Sweet buns and soft red hair under a cherry blossom tree and the hard steel eyes that burn an intense green.

Yua. Huh, are these her memories? She wonders. Her memories of her past life were so muddy and dripping with blood she isn’t sure what’s real or fake anymore so she doesn’t touch that corner of her mind, fearing it may open a pandora's box of chaos inside her.

“What about her?”Himiko asks, gripping his head and forcing him to look at her. Her finger still sits on his neck, gently resting on the vein, poised to kill at any second. He swallows and speaks.

“She told me how she fought you all those years ago. How she failed at never freeing you from your suffering. How she vowed would never let you eat another human again. Why did you hurt her so much?”His voice gets more bitter as he talks as if what he is saying disgusts him “She regrets letting you get away. It was foolish. I think she loved you too much. She cared too much for a monster”

Himiko’s muddy snapshot images of her life dance across her eyelids when she blinks. The soft conversations she had after lost to the both of them, but she remembers a longing to run away and go far with the only person she truly trusts. The soft touches as lingering stares. She remembers the bloody night when the demon came and slaughtered the entire brothel and she remembers the pain of seeing her stare at her with the determination to kill her etched into her features.

The thing in her chest rattles. It’s long shrivelled and broken, the meat of it shredded and buried beneath a rage she couldn't identify.

“I am her grandson. I wanted to carry out what she couldn’t”

Himiko stares at him. Really stares. He looks so much like her. The red hair and soft skin are a perfect copy of her own. His eyes are fierce, unwavering and Himiko can’t stand it. She left her. She wanted to help you . She abandoned me. She spent so long looking for you . She tried to kill me. She tried to save you . She never cared about me. She loved you .

She can feel it again. The ache that she can feel both in her body and soul. A loved one she loved and lost for good. One that had broken the sanctuary and trust they built for themselves.

She pushed her finger and watched brightness in his eyes fade.

She devoured him then feeling the memories get smothered by the adrenaline rush of eating one with rare blood. These memories don’t matter, the feelings don’t matter. She has infinite lifetimes to forget them and she is gone.

Yua was gone now.

She was gone and yet the wound was still fresh.

Notes:

Himiko still tries to hold on to human things even if she can’t remember her old life. She wonders around looking for things she can never quite find.

I didn’t pay much attention, but the meaning of Yua’s name is to tie or bind and Watanabe means to pass over or border. In a way their fates are bound to each other for eternity. Maybe in life or death.

I don't even know how that happened.

#It's a bit dark #Blood and Violence #Mild Gore #Hurt No Comfort #Emotional Hurt #Implied Relationships #Implied/Referenced Character Death #Himiko #Original Characters #demons #鬼滅の刃 | Kimetsu no Yaiba #Graphic Depictions Of Violence #Found a prompt and made this monstrosity. I hope it makes sense.#This headcanon is a what if about Himiko if she had thrown away her humanity instead. Set further back in a past set before canon.#writitng #writing community

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quality-on-a-patch-of-awesome · 2 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: SEAL Team (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eric Blackburn & Bravo Team Ensemble, Eric Blackburn & Jason Hayes Characters: Eric Blackburn, Jason Hayes, Bravo Team Ensemble (SEAL Team TV) Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gun Violence, implied/referenced/threatened, Trent also has a line, and the rest of the boys are there, but not enough for tags, Worry, Bravo will always worry about Blackburn, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-Season/Series 04 Summary:

A concerning phonecall leads to Bravo worrying about Blackburn

#whumptober2022 #no.24 #i don't want to do this anymore #seal team #fic #past character death #implied/referenced suicide #implied/referenced self-harm #grief #mourning #eric blackburn #bravo team #jason hayes #implied/referenced gun violence #worry #i hope i got all these tags right

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larkfeather1153 · 2 years

Text

I know this is technically after midnight (at least in my timezone), but I was a bit waylaid in crossposting the link. It takes time to get the tags done right! Hope y'all enjoy. :)

#whumptober2022 #no.2 #confrontation #cornered #planes #fic #violence #alcohol abuse #period-typical homophobia #implied/referenced (past) bullying #we love giving characters a traumatic past but a better future #also i love how like 90% of this stuff ends up containing 'period-typical homophobia'#i may be. um. processing some stuff lol

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hazelfoureyes · 4 months

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A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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