#so at least one person would Know my feelings on this topic

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Mark knows one thing: All good things come to an end.

[Invincible Varients X Reader]

14 * Break(Up) [7.6k]

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [13]

"You know that guy that shot himself in the back of the van?

Botched it and blasted his whole fucking face in half."

Botched - Go Hang

        Day ??????

        "I want to... just no fire this time." Mark said, hard under your hips. He was laid on your shared cot, pretty in the firelight, dinner boiling on the exo-skeleton stove. You'd yet to go beyond where you'd sexually explored. He was still too nervous to hurt you, but horny as an alley cat. You didn't mind the distraction and it seemed to keep him grounded, stable. 

        You furrow your brow. "What's the fire got anything to do with this?" 

        His hands soften their hold on your breasts. Tank top forgotten somewhere. That, at least, was new.

        "I can see myself," he says barely above the fire-crack, "in your eyes."

        You were so much healthier now with a constant stream of food and water. Cumming on the semi-daily. Yet without sun, you weren't as glowing as you could be. You were becoming something that withered in the gloom, something like him. Deformed. Monstrous. Seeing his reflection, even a moment, reminded him that he was corrupting you. Ruining you. Letting you rot with him in this cave. This dark, isolated place so much like his personal hell, just bigger.

        "I like seeing you." You say. 

        "Well, I don't." He'd be more snappish if his dick wasn't hard, twitching for attention.

        You could live without fire, the light for now. So you lean off of him, and dash out the blaze. "Happy?"

        Without the possibility of seeing himself, seeing how trapped he was, "Yes."

        Day ????????

        "You hear that?"

        You woke in the dark, sleep heavy on your lids. You slept too much to tell the time. Mark sometimes slept with you, like tonight. Curled up together for warmth at first then for company.

        "Hear what?" You turn your ear to the ceiling as he slipped out of the cot.

        "That." He floated up. Pressed his head to the cool roof of the cave. Fingers flat to the dirt to feel any vibration. He listened and listened and listened. You tried to listen, you couldn't see where he went in the oppressive dark, just knew he left your side and would spiral if you let him feel around in the dark. 

        Crack!

        There it is!

        Crack!

        But from where?

        Crack!

        Below him. He looked down to find the white carapace glowing with orange with light. A frown twitched on his cheeks. Every time he left you were back at it, making fires- light to see by. Nothing was that important to see here. Plenty of blind folk did by feel so why couldn't you?

        He shook his head. There he goes again. Thinking crazy. You were used to seeing. Comforted by light's normalcy. He needed to stop being so weird. He needed to get himself in check.

        You pop your head out, trying to see, but he was too far up, shrouded by the shadows. He knows he should return, but he can't bring himself to. He pressed his head to the cool rock and felt the cuffs holding him to the ground while his father's voice whispered he would never escape. 

        Day ?????????

        "I just don't get what's taking him so long," Mark says.

        "I don't know." You'd tread this topic flat. Mark turned it into a desire path.

        "I mean, how long's it been?"

        You rest your head against his shoulder, bored even though he was flying you around, "I don't know." 

        You'd been walking, trying to explore the mold cave by yourself but he deemed it too dangerous for you to go alone. He put the torch out, scared it'd catch on something if you weren't careful. Flew you through the sneeze-inducing cavern while you couldn't see a thing. So much for exploring. 

        "You agree, right? He should've been here by now."

        "Probably. If you're so worried about it maybe we should try to dig up." His doubt was starting to wear on you, it was impossible to convince yourself things would be fine when he wouldn't stop insisting the opposite was true. 

        "Do you think I actually killed him?" He ignores the last part, you don't know if it's on purpose or if he's stuck in a loop. 

        "I think it'd take a lot more than that to kill one of you." Except you hadn't seen the full damage done to Phantom. Mark moved too fast.

        "I broke his leg." Mark admits, "I saw the bone. I didn't mean to it just happened." His brain screamed infection but he knew that wasn't likely. Viltrumites regrow entire organs and never sport a sniffle. But his father had been the one to tell him this, his father who always seemed to be so full of lies. Taking him to that prison, telling him everything was going to be alright. He just needed a few months in the slammer to clear his head, change his mind. A lie. He never did.

        Angstrom Levy said he could kill his father. A lie. He never got to.

        Angstrom Levy said he could have you. Not a lie. Hold it together.

        Day ??????????

        You don't eat inside the hamster enclosure. It'd grown stuffy with crab smelling steam, with your constant, all-day lounging. Mark let you explore, but never far without company. If you were alone he insisted it be in the hut, where Phantom's tracker was. 

        Defiance was sitting just outside, slurping the same soup you'd been eating for days. He doesn't make a comment as he touched down, wiping spores off his clothes. He eyes the fire flickering inside the hut. "Do you really need that?"

        "I like seeing when I eat." You say in between bites.

        "You don't need to though, do you?" His tone is clipped. Though he made no move to go inside and put out the blaze.

        It pisses you off. "I need to not feel like I'm back in prison."

        "I-" Words are swallowed. He walked inside, head low. Returning with a shallow bowl. He didn't need to eat but with prison and all the memories it brought, an animal instinct inside him told him to. 

        He sat down heavily. Sloshing hot water on his thighs that he could barely feel. "I don't mean to make you feel that way. I just-" Out the corner of his eye, you sip at the bowl's edge. "I felt like I almost lost you when those two attacked me. I'm scared they'll find you and I won't know where you are and they'll hurt you again."

        You don't think they're going to find you but you don't say it. "I can handle myself."

        "Can you?"

        You set the bowl aside. Finished. Food sat heavy at the bottom of your stomach. "Mark. I kill people for a living. I went to a prison where I was constantly collared and couldn't use my powers. You think surviving that was easy? Surrounded by a bunch of other criminals, some worse than me, some who knew I killed people they loved? The guards had to keep me in solitary most of the time so Machine Head's favorite murder machine didn't leave in a body bag." Too many of the employees there were in his pocket. They kept you locked pillowy tight, safe as could be from the other riffraff when the warden wasn't around. The other inmates hated you for it. "I knew I was going to have to work for him when I got out but still I was relieved. Safety like that isn't safety, you know?" 

        "I wish my sentence was like that." He says instead of acknowledging the point you were trying to make. That he was doing the same thing your jailor did. 

        You shouldn't ask but you do. "What was it like?"

        "Bad." Just remembering made his hands start to shake. Sloshing more of the soup on his legs.

        You take his bowl and set it aside. Put a hand on his, feeling like an asshole. Of course it was bad- just look at him. "You don't have to talk about it."

        He made his muscles go taught all over to quell the shake. "You want to know." 

        "But I don't need to."

        He considers this before saying. "For most of it, nothing happened. Where I was kept was far away from everything it..." When he shut his eyes he saw his father standing bloody over him. When he looked at the floor, dark and matte, he saw the same floor as his cell, unbreakable, unstainable no matter how much blood his body wept. When he breathed in the stale air, it smelled the same. "The waiting drove me crazy."

        Waiting. He was still waiting. Waiting for Phantom to come. Waiting for him to dig a sturdy tunnel to the surface. Waiting to get out of here. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the punishment. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. And when it did, it was going to be bad. It was always bad. Worse than the last worst thing.

        "I'm sorry." 

        Your apology is like canon shot straight through his head. He'd known this version of you a month and never heard words so sincere. "Why?"

        You shrug, "Because prison sucks. My sentence was definitely not as bad as yours and I dunno, I'm sorry for that. I mean, I wouldn't trade places with you or anything but I wish I understood."

        You crack a smile. Try to lighten the moon but his brain superimposes you into his cell. Puts you under his father's scrutinous gaze. Your skin dripping down your face. You curled in a meaty ball, sobbing while your flesh blistered. He wondered what you, his version of you, looked like while dying. 

        He needed to puke.

        He left without warning. So quick you fell back and can't see where he'd gone. 

        Day ???????????

        You put the fire out soon as he got 'home'. Dinner was served. If it even was dinner time. 

        He sat, ate as quietly as he could which wasn't very quiet at all. He didn't like you seeing him eat. He tried eating with the barb utensils, really, he did but it was so awkward and wrong. Eating with his hands was better but he was embarrassed if you watched him. So, no light at mealtimes. No light while you touched him. No light while sleeping. The list was only getting longer.

        You blindly stab for meat, barb going tink-tink-tink against the exoskeleton bowl. "How are the babies today?" 

        He was right. They didn't eat after birth and they didn't live long. The dead were slowly staring to pile up in corners. It was too early to tell if the population was dwindling but you were starting to guess yes. Not enough worker mites to drag them away to use as fertilizer in the farm You took it upon yourself to move the piles of carcasses. Not a fan of their smell after a few days. 

        "Mmm." He slurps something down.

        "The nursemaids still feeding them pieces of the queen?" You pop a piece of meat into your mouth. Sour with age. The queen was starting to go bad. Mark tried to jerky-fy her the same way Gray had but it didn't work, only left the cave so smokey you couldn't make a fire for what felt like weeks. He also ended up burning a pound of her precious meat, but at least you could use it as fuel. Which you were also running low on. You were considering turning to the mold farm, maybe using dried bug shells or egg linings. 

        He grunted in reply. He hadn't spoken to you since the prison talk. He'd regressed to his prison days. Make no noise, make no waves, and he'd be okay.

        You gave it time, then more time, and more time but this was getting ridiculous. You keep the conversation so you don't go fucking crazy.

        "Any of the girlies in the lead?" In the last few days, a few of the young grew bigger than the rest. Still fleshy and wriggling but clear replacements for the queen. Only one of them would survive to adulthood and it'd be good to know who to get on your side. Much as you could get a bug on your side.

        Another grunt.

        "Good talk."

        You were annoyed with him. Hard not to be when stuck in close quarters so long. Yet he still had you on your back later. Eating you for desert without saying a word. He may have gotten worse at coping, but he'd gotten better at eating pussy. You don't mind your volume. Screaming into the carapace roof as you come undone. Hoping Phantom had a microphone in that little spyware thing you stuck to the wall. Maybe he'd get so jealous he'd throw caution to the wind and just come down already. Take you to the above ground where you longed to lounge in the sun. Even for a moment.        

        Day ???????????

        Click click click-ity click.

        They came forward in a wave of pale bodies. Climbing over egg sacks and atop each others backs to be the first to your feet. Before they can touch you, climb up your body, you let loose a loud click.

        The masses stop. You hold up the stinking torch constructed from dead bugs speared through a piece of rebar. They do not flinch back from the heat and light. They are under your control and will not move until released. Controlling thousands at once is difficult but their minds were so simple, so tiny, it was like controlling a weakened Viltrumite. Harder than a human being at least.

        With a click click click, they began to move out of your footpath. You stop when you're stood at the precipice of the nursery. The five fat larval potential queens wait for you on the backs of their adult caretakers. You look over them all, holding the torch overhead, assessing the strongest looking versus the scrawniest. You didn't know their criteria for survival but you hoped the biggest meant it was the healthiest. 

        You held out the old meat you'd brought along to the largest. She takes it in underdeveloped mandibles. Chittering as you let go. The first sound any of them had made since the queen died. It felt like a good sound and you couldn't help the small smile on your lips. 

        The trill travels back, a sound of content from the entire hive it seemed. You laughed, awkwardly, and held out another piece. The to-be queen took it and the sound repeats in a wave. 

        "(Y/n)," Mark's voice from far away, peaked with concern. "(Y/n)!?"

        "Over here." He'd started talking to you again not too long ago, no apologies, no preamble. You didn't say anything about it either, just glad to have him talking again, to hear a voice besides your own. 

        He found you holding an oversized grub, the other bugs circling your feet. "I think I picked the queen?" You laugh while he hovers horrified. They could've swarmed you there were so many, a carpet of pale bodies going round and round in a not-quite death spiral. 

        "Put that thing down." He warns.

        "She likes me." Even though she was wiggly and slimy and gross, she was a little cute. Mandibles grabbing hold of your tank top to nibble on. "I'm like, securing our spot in the hierarchy." You don't know if it's true. If you even did pick a queen or if the second you put her down the bugs would kill her. 

        Mark could care less what a bug thought. He tore the grub out of your hands and set it down, scared if he killed it the swarm would blame you. In the same breath, he picked you up so quick you dropped the torch. Your new friends swerved to avoid the blaze but some burn, popping out of their shells. "Hey!"

        "I didn't know where you were." There's panic in his voice. "I couldn't find you." He'd gone to sleep some time ago. Didn't move when you woke up and left.

        "I wasn't far away." You argue. "I had a light, you could see me."

        "We've been using less light lately. What if I couldn't?" He landed outside the hamster hut and carried you inside.

        "Okay, well, I need light to walk around this place unlike you." You wait for him to set you on the cot but he doesn't. "Uhm, hello, put me down?"

        "You make me worry-"

        "Mark."

        "It's like you don't listen to me-"

        "Mark."

        "I worry about you so much, and it's like you don't care."

        "Mark, put me down."

        His hands flex but his body obeys. You take a step back in the dark and start to tilt back, tripping on the cot. Mark surged forward, caught you by the back.

        "See?" His breath is hot on your face, grip hard on your upper arms, "I'm protecting you from yourself."

        You don't like who he's becoming in the dark. "I don't need you to protect me." You wiggle in his hold, "Let go."

        His hands spring open, you fall ass first to the cot. You feel it heavy in the air. His urge to pounce, to try and control, but he balls his fists and stays standing over you. You hate it.

        "I want to be alone." You say. He hovered around so much, too much, glued to your hip. The words are a threat to use your power. You don't want to but if he makes you- you will.

        "No." He says.

        You think about forcing him but don't. It'd only make him worse. "Then don't bitch about the fire when I cook." You make no move for the pit.

        "You ate this morning, you're not hungry."

        "Excuse me?" It was true, but you were prickly, wanted something to change. You wanted out but he wouldn't try.

        "I think you're trying to upset me."

       You were annoyed that he was right, that he had been a brick wall so often any response seemed to piss you off. "I think you're being crazy right now." 

        Crazy? Crazy? 

        He took in a breath. "You think I'm being-" He heard his father in his voice just then. Shuts him right up, "I'm sorry. I- I just thought I was alone again. I got scared."

        "Doesn't mean you can just pick me up like that. I'm not a doll, Mark." 

        God, he'd been so stupid. So, so stupid. Acting like the others. Possessive. Obsessive. Crazy. Part of him says to leave, to give you space but he doesn't. He can't stop himself from acting like the others. Suppose it was genetic. 

        Day ????????????????????

        You sit outside the hamster hut. Far as Mark would let you go before he started acting off. More off than he had been down here. Fine, it's fine. You could handle it. You needed the practice controlling the bugs from far away.

        You click loud and clear. Push and pull the bugs like the tide. Experimented with different sounds, seeing what they'd do. You'd actually managed to get them to dig. In the center of the main cave and not the ceiling like you wanted. You were trying to figure out the series of hisses and clicks that'd redirect them. 

        Mark knew what you were trying to do. All the what if's came piling in his head. What if the tunnel collapsed? What if it made the whole cave collapse? What if you wanted to get away from him? What if you were scared of him?

        "You should stop." He said, watching your back.

        "It's good practice." You say between clicks. 

        "You could hurt yourself."

        "I won't." 

        He shuts up. Watches you try to redirect the bugs to middling success. Thoughts more discordant than the bugs movement. Louder than your clicking. He thinks he should kill the bugs. All of them so you can't dig a way out. He thinks that after days, maybe weeks of nothing happening, the hammer was about to come down. Thinks you're trying to tempt fate. Thinks maybe, just maybe, this was Phantom's idea all along. Phantom wasn't stupid. He knew Mark would crack up in the deep, isolate dark. He knew he'd regress. Act like the animal he was, all of them were deep down.

        Mark needs you to know. "He's leaving us down here on purpose."

        You watch the bugs. "Why would he do that?"

        "Because he's obsessed with you." He said.

        "You're not making sense." Then you turn on him. He sees it in the dark, your furrowed brow and twitching lip. You think he's crazy. 

       He needs to make you understand. He's not crazy, he's not. "Think about it. They all want you to themselves but they can't have you if you're all over some fuckin' freak like me. So he stranded us down here. He's listening I bet. Maybe they're all listening, waiting to swoop in when I fuck up." If he had hair he'd pull at it. But he doesn't so his hands press down on the expanse of scars on his head. 

        Turns out, you weren't looking at him like he was crazy before- because you absolutely were now. "I don't think..." You sigh, stand, click and let the bugs disburse. "Mark, we can't know that. We can't know anything down here. I think we should start thinking about digging up for real. If we're slow about it and careful there shouldn't be a cave in." You hoped.

        "There's going to be a cave in." He said assuredly.

        "You don't know that." You reach out for him.

        Phantom would know. 

        Mark didn't know anything at all. Down came the sledgehammer of reason. He didn't know. He was assuming. He was being crazy.

        Your touch is like a healing balm he immediately relaxes into. "I'm sorry." He says. "I just- I don't know what's happening anymore. I thought I'd know what was going to happen when I got out and now I don't and I'm so scared all of the time. I'm sorry," His head starts to hang and he begins to lean in, melt into your body, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

        You brace for his weight.  Body stiff with how hard you had to hold him up, arms straining to wrap around his back as he cried into your neck. Yet no tears wet your skin. Trapped behind those black lenses until the moisture reabsorbed to skin, leaving behind remnants he could never recover.

        Day ???????????????????????????????

        "Mark, just sit down." 

        He doesn't reply. Feet endlessly going plap-plap-plap on the sweaty ground. He was always moving these days. Shaking his leg. Floating around you. Pacing. You suspected he was too scared to do it in prison, a way to distance himself from the memory. That if they heard him move they'd bust into the cell and beat him half-dead. You understood the need to distance himself, but the sound had been going for hours. It was the only thing you could focus on in the dark. He only let you light a fire if you were cooking now which was less and less often. The Queen had gone to rot. You'd turned to eating her subjects which Mark was starting to argue, could be eaten raw. 

        "Mark."

        Plap-plap-plap.

        "Sit down."

        The sound is sucked out the air in a vacuum. You have to hold his mind down, headlock it to submission. It thrashes, writhes in your grip. Talking is difficult with how much he struggles but you manage, "Walking in circles won't get us out of here."

        He breaks free so quickly and completely you feel the snap in your skull. Then he's on you, solid hand over your mouth.

        "Don't do that." Breath hot on your face, powerful body hovering over you. 

        You hadn't used power on him for days- you think it'd been days- and he hadn't reacted badly then. But his tone, the crackle in the air, told you now things were different. 

        His hand falls away. Regretting the action as soon as he'd done it. His presence leaves you all at once.

        "Never do that again." It reminded him too much of when his captors would put a bit in his mouth so he wouldn't bite off his own tongue during the torture, cuff him to the floor so they could torment him. He was horrified he'd lash out, kill you if you did it again. 

        Judging by how fast your heart raced? You thought the same thing. 

        Good, you should be scared of him. The thought makes him sick. 

       Day ????????????????????????????????????????????

        He's convinced the others linger outside the rocky prison walls. Listening so hard if he thought loud enough they'd hear, the same way the prison guards always seemed to. This place was so close to where he'd been last month. Was it last month? Or two months ago now? A year? He was never good at keeping track of time in there. Worse in here. All he was good at was waiting for inevitable punishment.

        But you were no good at that. Always trying to better yourself. Train with the bugs. Figure out their language slowly and surely like it was a game. You kept trying to soft launch the idea of getting them to dig you out but he always shot it down. Ignored you when you suggested he try digging out.

        You were getting better at shucking bug exoskeletons to get to their tasty white meat. The queen was fully rotten now, but that was fine as her subjects were more tender and juicy. You were getting better at making soups. Which was endearing at first but now all he focused on was how quick you could build a fire. How often you built them. How loud and bright they were. How them burning meant you could see him at his very lowest. Could they see him too? 

        "We could eat them raw." He suggested for the millionth time, sat just out of view. Where the firelight couldn't touch him. 

        You give him a look, cracking a dead bug out of its shell and letting the meat roll into the makeshift pot. "I'm not doing that."

        You don't get it. You don't understand the danger that's looming around the corner. Waiting to strike. You and your smile glowing, attracting bugs like him. 

        You'd be mad, but when nothing bad happened down the line- you'd understand.

        He rushed forward, killed the fire in the stroke of an arm. Finally, he could be comfortably close to you.

        "Mark! What the hell?"

        "Quiet." He muttered in your ear. 

        You scoff and blindly reach out for the fire. Fingers finding hot coals. You hiss, reeling back a moment before reaching out again, not deterred at all. "What'd you do that for?"

        You still didn't get it. He had to make you get it. He grabbed your arms from behind, chest pressed to your back, voice in your ear. "Stop," he says, "We don't need it."

        "Yes we do, to eat." You try to shuck your arms out his grip but it's unwavering.

        "No." He says. 

        Your lips purse. "We're not fucking cave bugs Mark. Let go of me."

        Touch fell away like you burned him. It stayed away while you rebuilt the fire, mentally holding him in a choke hold after you told him to, "Stay."

        When the fire was back on, you turned to him, frowning. Because you knew he wasn't happy you used your powers on him. You knew he'd do something shitty. So you kept the hold long and strong as you could just to look at him and his pretty face in the firelight.

        When the hold breaks, darkness is almost immediate. Fire kicked to the hamster hut walls. "Mar-"

        His hand came to your mouth, dirty fingers digging to your cheeks. "No." He growled. "No. No more."

        You felt him moving you both. So fast you couldn't process until it was done. You sat on the cot, legs splayed in front of you, hands weighed heavy down between them. Wrapped in rebar still hot after being twisted so fast. Then your head, oh god, your head was so tightly wrapped round the middle you felt like you were a watermelon being squeezed by a hundred rubber bands. The cotton he'd used as a makeshift bit, pulled back your cheeks and dried the spit off your tongue. So thick you couldn't push the thing out with your tongue, could barely swallow.

        He says, "I'm sorry," wavering with such fear. Like he wasn't the one scaring the shit out of you right now. Your heart rabbit fast in your chest, fighting the urge to scream. If you got your arms free, you could pull off the gag, talk to him, calm him down like you had been the whole time. 

        You wriggled in the restraints. Tried to use your feet to pull the rebar off your arms but it was too well wrapped. Knotted over itself and solid. Fear seemed to choke you and you resorted to screaming from your throat, hoping some syllables would break through and he'd realize how crazy this was.

        "Why wouldn't you listen to me?" He says though you can barely hear him over your own guttural screaming. "I've been through this kind of thing before, I know what I'm talking about."

        You beat your wrapped arms against the ground, making your bones vibrate, making the ground go clang clang clang. 

        He goes on, "I promise I'll take the gag out when you calm down. I can't trust you to make a bad choice right now." Your legs gather under you, push you up but his hands are on your shoulders, pushing your ass back down. You can't tell between the absolute oppressive black and his body. Both are everywhere.

        "It's alright," he says soft, "I've got you."

        Day ??????????????????????????????????????????????????

        He poured water onto the cotton bit. Soaks it through until the water drips sourly onto your tongue. Pushed raw bug guts in the few gaps in the gag. Held you warm at night. Told you it was going to be okay.

        You have no idea how long it's been like this, the dark seems to hold you in place. The past and the present feel the same, you don't feel like you have a future anymore. Only the darkness and his touch for the rest of your life. You are still scared, every time he moved, your mind screamed that this time he would snap your neck. That in his fucked up brain it'd be a better idea to kill you than find a way out. He wasn't even trying anymore. He didn't leave the hamster hut, a constant companion in the quiet dark. 

        Some part of him was lucid enough to know if he took off the gag, you'd get him back- oh you spiteful Mark-killing thing. The other bit of him, tiny as it was, said he should take the gag off. That you wouldn't hurt him, you cared about him. You wouldn't kill him. To which the other side said; "Wouldn't you?" Doubt ping-ponged him back and forth. Either way he wanted to take the gag off, wanted to apologize, but he felt the phantom cuffs and couldn't move. 

        You couldn't take it anymore. The dark. The hours of silence. Mark regressing. All of it. You'd been biding time, trying to store energy.  

        You rolled off of the cot that felt like your coffin, shuffling forward on your knees, spinning to face him- where you hoped he was. Know he's watching. You didn't do much after he first put you in the restraints, he'd promised to take the gag off when you calmed, but it never came. The dark made you begin to doubt he'd said anything. 

        You bend down, head first and find his chest. Headbutting him gentle as a docile cat. Grunting through the restraints, trying to say, "I wanna talk to you," but it came out as, "Ahhahaakohuu."

        The warring sides of him flare. You were going to make him leave, bring the cave down, ruin everything you'd built together. You wanted to fix the bridge he burned because you were an angel. He knew he was the bad one for doing this to you. You must be so scared of him. You must want him dead.

        That thought is worse than being in prison again, it echoes in his mind, making him move. His hands shoot out to undo the gag, let it fall to the ground with a wet thop. His hands come to either side of your head, where the gag left an irritated indent, red and deep. "Oh Jesus (Y/n)." 

        Hearing his voice crack made you want to cry but you couldn't. You were cried out because of him. Arms came around your middle, pressing you to his front as he shuddered with incoming tears. You stayed still, pushing your feelings down as you breathe through your mouth for the first time in what felt like a century. Your dry tongue flexes in its cage. Jaw and cheeks stretch, power builds up your throat as he snivels.

        You wait until he pulls back, arms slipping away, leaving hands lingering on your waist. "I'm so s-"

        "Mark." He's heartbroken by how little your voice sounds. It makes him want to break things because he knows what's coming and he knows it's all his fault. "Go to the ceiling, and dig a way out."

       He lifted off the ground and out of the hut. Surprised into submission. But his grip didn't loosen for some moments, lifting you with him until his hands dropped to turn himself into a human drill. You fell, screaming but your hold on him stays. 

        You hear him hit the ceiling, shaking the cavern as you hit the ground. Twenty-feet worth of gravity come down on your left leg all at once. You feel the crack, fast, hot- the snap of your tibia breaking under skin. There's no time to scream before the rest of you hits the ground, forcing the air out your lungs.

        Mark is fighting against your control as he spins, turning rock to gravel lighting quick. Your hold is as strong as his fist, crushing, insurmountable, until it's not. Gone all at once. The control leaves as you begin to scream.

        He's knelt at your side, you can't see him but you feel the wind as he lands too quickly, hear his panicked breaths as he reaches for you. Dirt from his shoulders drop onto your face as he leans forward. You try to heave yourself up to get a look at the damage despite the dark and your weak human eyes. He can see it's bad. Your left leg was bent in the middle of your shin. He knows that if you saw it you'd puke, pass out, bleed out from the inside and die on him. Leave him here alone.

        So he pushes you down to lay on your back. All he can hear is your sobbing and the falling rocks from the hole in the ceiling. The ceiling that now cracks and groans, but doesn't cave. He knew it was a bad idea, but he should've known you'd try something stupid and desperate like this. He remembers the desperation that came after months in the floating prison. How it'd all leached out of him the longer he sat, the harder they hit him. He needs to stop you from doing something like that again. To stop you from making it worse, just like he had. 

        He's stuck in his head again, holding you but unable to make a decision. Breath comes back to you in slow, burning sips of air.

        "Mark-" you gasp, swallow, trying to scrounge up some power, "you need to keep digging."

        He doesn't want to take off, to leave you, but your power hits him like Battle Beast's mace to the ribs. You are stronger in your adrenaline fueled desperation. You force him to fly up, to dig, dig, dig until the rocks become less hard, until he hits dirt that morphs into silky sand. But you are not as strong as Battle Beast, and you are woozy with agony. He feels it when you pass out, the lack of your power holding him. He is back in the caves as hundreds of pounds of now unsupported sand follow him. Piling under the hole in a building dune.

         Mark kneels over you. One hand over your mouth, one hand under your neck. Watching as consciousness returned to your body. Tears kickstart as your brain registers the pain. You start to thrash against him but it doesn't work, makes the pain worse. You go limp under him, eyes searching for his face in the dark and not finding it. 

        "Why did you do that?" He says, voice roadkill raw.

        You can't respond. Consider biting his hand but you're too scared. He scared you too much to fight back- like Scars, but somehow more unpredictable. You think if you fuck this up he'll kill you then lay next to your body, catatonic until he dies. You think he'll do it quick, a snap of the neck, and he'll think it's merciful. It'd be easy, then you'd be dead. You didn't want to be in this cave anymore but even more than that, you didn't want to die.

        "The roof could've collapsed." He says, "You could've died. You could've..." He hears it. The thundering pitter-patter of your heart. Hummingbird fast because you're hurt and scared because of him. "I hurt you." All at once he is barraged by how miserable you must be down here with him. How he'd locked you up and thrown away the key like dad did. Like Mark did, the real Mark, your Mark because you told him what he did to you one night after sex. He'd grown distant after that, remembering you weren't really who he wanted to see outside of prison- then he clung to you, unwilling to leave you like he had. 

        "Oh God, oh God, I'm worse than him." His hands go up to his head. 

        You have no idea what he's talking about but you need to make him, "D-"

        His hand is back over your mouth, harsh enough to make you gasp.

        "No," a growl. "No. It'll cave in. Don't you see you're going to die? Stop it." Your heart beats on, terrified. Tears squirt out of your eyes. He's making you cry. Thumbs come up to wipe the tears away. "No, no, stop that, hey." The gentleness in his tone warbles like bad camouflage.

        The more he wipes the tears away, the more come to replace them. He can't plug the flow. This is his fault. He knew he should've stayed in his box instead of going with Angstrom. He wasn't fit for the outside world or those distant planets with imaginary sap rivers. He wasn't fit for anything at all.

        "I didn't mean to, (Y/n)." He cups your cheeks, lets the wetness gather on the sides of his rugged hands. Let it soak, burning into his skin as punishment. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, please talk to me. Please, please, I love you." When it comes out, something feels ripped out of him. He was hollow before, but empty now. He couldn't love you, he didn't know you, not really. You were a figment he ruined like the first. He didn't deserve to give his heart to anyone- to push that curse onto anyone. Especially not you. You didn't need a rotten thing like him.

        In his attempts to quell the tears, he no longer held your mouth shut. You could make him dig but the sand was coming down in a river now. The hole would dig itself now. Fill the cavern in a few hours at this rate.

        The sun was coming, the nightmare was over. Mark didn't have to waste away in this hell anymore, didn't have to drag you down with him. You'd figure it out under the sun. Fix up your leg. Fix up his brain. You just needed him to calm down, to understand what was next.  

        "Mark," you croaked and he goes still, as if already under our control, "Just stop."

        In your head, you mean for him to take a breath. To calm down. To talk this out. You were mad, sure, scared, absolutely, upset, totally, but he was still your partner in survival. Still someone you cared about. 

        In Mark's head? Stop was something yelled over the guards as they kicked his ribs in. Stop was what he said to his father's attempts at swaying him, to the lies he fed him. Stop meant more fists were coming. Stop was something he could never do in regards to loving you. To hurting you. Stop was ending your pain the only way he understood how.

        You feel the impact more than hear it. A sound so strange, you couldn't process, couldn't even guess what it was. Then came his wheezy groan. The brassy drip of blood on stone. He let out a sigh as his body came down hard atop yours. Warming your arms with quickly spreading heat.

        "Mark?"

        You shift, expecting him to move with you. Maybe to help you up. Maybe to stop you. But he does neither. He shudders once twice, then goes completely, utterly still.

        "Mark?" 

        You wriggle out from under him. Front soaked through, smelling of blood. So much blood you could choke.

        "Mark?!"

        You're on your knees in the dark. Padding around with arms tied by rebar, feeling for him, the problem, the sudden quiet. There's his bubble butt, there's his strong lower back, there's a.... wet, warm hole. There's... his arm going up. There's something in his hand. Hot and firm. Your hand comes away slick and reeking. 

        You don't remember when you started to scream. Or when you stopped 

        One moment you were. Then the next, you were face first in a puddle of congealing blood, your throat raw and head pounding. Movement pricked at your ears. You stirred, trying to return to reality. Sand almost buried you alive, you could feel it shift off your back. When your eyes open, there is sun coming through the roof. White hot and burning your eyes, but you can't look away, finally seeing him. 

        Light frames his back. Broad shoulders and narrow waisted. Standing over you. 

        "Mark?"

        Water, something he hadn't had in days drips down his chin. Bugs wriggle in his grip, their juices on his lips. Stomach churning but starting to work after weeks of nothing. He looks strange to you in his blue and yellow suit, his pretty brown eyes squinting down at you. Mark wore white. Mark didn't have hair.

        You looked just as strange covered in blood and bugs. His doppelganger laid beside you. Mostly buried in tan sand, gone dark brown with blood. His eyes adjust to the dim light and he sees the heart, held in his scarred hand peaking out of the sand. Jesus. 

        And there you are, bloodshot eyes, rebar tied too tight around your wrist. The miserable, missing and presumed dead girl who was the most valuable bargaining chip in the wastes. He doesn't have to think as your head starts to turn, eyes about to take in the view next to you. He's fast, swooping you up and out of the cave. The movement, being held, the shift- brings hot white pain. A sound comes out of your lips, dying with your waning consciousness. 

[starcurtain]

I know you touched on this a little bit but you have some of the best analysis for Aventurine around and I was hoping you might go a little deeper on Ratio and Aventurine’s relationship pre-penacony. Like they obviously knew each other and their relationship is better than what the game shows because of the plan, but it is difficult to tell just how well they knew each other and how close they actually were. What is your reading or even just head canons on them before penacony?

Two asks together, since they're mostly on the same topic:

Regarding Ratio and Aventurine's partnership, although they obviously knew each other before Penacony, there are some conflicting points that make it difficult to tell how long they might have known each other.

On the one hand, we've never been given confirmation, either through flavor text, items, readables, or marketing material, that Ratio and Aventurine have been on any noteworthy, named missions together before Penacony. When Ratio is included with the IPC crew, it's always marketed as "The Penacony Special Ops Team" or something like that, indicating that--so far as the devs want us to know right now--Aventurine and Ratio's first big mission together was Penacony.

There's also the fact that Ratio seems genuinely concerned for Aventurine's safety. Although it's possible that Penacony was just the highest the stakes have ever been, I feel like someone who has a long history of working with Aventurine would be more exasperated and less genuinely fearful of the outcome. Compare Topaz's reactions to Aventurine, like "Ugh your tricks are annoying, but fine, I'll work with you because I know you always get the job done" to Ratio's reactions in Penacony--the "Doctor's Advice" message seems to be seriously concerned that Aventurine would not win his gamble without assistance. To me, it seems that someone with a long history of working with Aventurine would be a little more used to his methods of operating.

However, there are some weird moments that seem to indicate a little more personal of a connection, or a little longer of a history--particularly the moment where Ratio talks about joining the Genius Society and Aventurine claps back with "Wait, I thought you gave up on that a long time ago?" We're told from Ratio's character stories that he never directly told anyone about his dreams of joining the Genius Society, although people speculate on it. Therefore, the only ways that Aventurine could know Ratio "gave up on that dream" would be if Ratio told him (something extremely personal, which we've never seen him share with others before) or if Aventurine was so nosy and diligent that he hunted down that information (read the "personal" biography of Ratio mentioned in Ratio's character stories) before joining up with the doctor for their mission.

We know from Ratio's comments on the Radiant Feldspar that the Intelligentsia Guild considers his work with Aventurine to be a "strategic partnership" and that Ratio agreed to the mission after being asked to do so, that he didn't seek it out (at least as far as he claims to the Trailblazer). Coupling this with the fact that Ratio was the IPC's liaison sent to the Herta Space Station, and I get the impression that Ratio is just somewhat the go-to "go-between" for the IPC and the Intelligentsia Guild; he's more likely to do IPC jobs than other Intelligentsia Guild members, and not all of it is connected to Aventurine.

Overall, although I would love them having a whole long history, my thought is that they likely knew of each other before Penacony, but hadn't actually partnered on anything major. Aventurine probably knew that Ratio was a reliable member of the Intelligentsia Guild who was willing to do IPC work, and knew that he would need someone smart in that position to be his "man on the inside" during the Cornerstone switcheroo in Penacony, so he likely put in the request to the Intelligentsia Guild to have Ratio assigned as his partner for Penacony. If not a direct request for Ratio personally, than at least a request for their smartest/most effective asset.

If he did ask for Ratio personally, then likely before he even asked, Aventurine had probably done a deep dive into Ratio's history to make sure he knew everything there was to know about his possible new partner (at the very least, he read Ratio's biography). Then he ended up "testing" Ratio's mettle in the Final Victor lightcone scenario--checking whether Ratio could actually handle the brand of crazy that was going to go down in Penacony.

I think Aventurine expected that his new partner would be able to play the part, but I don't think he anticipated how personal their connection would become...

Also regarding Aventurine having a "strategic partner" when none of the other Stonehearts seem to--I think that's just deliberate, to show the difference in the strategy each Stoneheart employs. Topaz is always accompanied by her squad of underlings because she's the workaholic-super-manager type. Jade is all about the art of the one-on-one deal. Aventurine is the schemer who comes up with crazy plans and uses every tool at his disposal--including partnerships with other people--to achieve that goal. He's the only one with a partner from the Intelligentsia Guild because, so far at least, he's the only one whose mission plans required that kind of partnership.

Aventurine is literally that "I know a guy" guy. 😂

[polyamorousmood]

Is declaring I am Polyamorous an acceptable excuse to disregard my husband's feelings on the topic. I'm considering moving out because I can't have my bf too.

At first he was okay with it. Up until I said my bf would be moving in and I didn't care that he objected. I want to tell him if he can't accept I am poly that he can move out of the house we bought together two years ago.

Advice?

It sounds like there's a fundamental misalign of wants/needs in this relationship. That is always a tragedy, and causes immense heartache, which I deeply sympathize with. So please do not take offense to my next question, as it is a genuine one.

Am I being trolled?

If this is a genuine question. I don't know how you got both old enough to marry and far enough in a relationship to marry and somehow still think it's ever okay to disregard your spouse's feelings. Are you trying to force a divorce? You can just go get divorce papers, you don't have to do all this. I legitimately cannot fathom the rationale for this ask otherwise. I hope your relationship with your husband is already trash and you're not throwing out an otherwise satisfying relationship so callously.

Normally, I encourage people to take my advice with a grain of salt. But this bulleted list is unequivocal:

Your husband is allowed to say who he is and isn't comfortable living with

Your husband not wanting to live with his meta is not in and of itself proof he is uncomfortable with your polyamory

He does not need to let a stranger live in his house to prove he supports you

You saying you don't care that he objects is fucked up. If you treat him like this, he should leave you. If you both treat each other like this, your families are both praying for you to divorce every night before they go to bed because they are sick of hearing about your pointless, needless, mindless drama

You can't, legally, kick a man out of a house he owns

Every divorce court in every country would rule against the person with the outside lover who kicked out the husband so the lover could move in

Of course, if it's non-negotiable for you that you get to live with all your partners, that's not something I can change. You have every right to hold that line! You can build your life however you want! It happens sometimes that there are strongly opposing needs in a relationship, and these are irreconcilable, which necessitates a breakup. This is a tragedy whenever it happens. I still get choked up thinking about mine. Its also an incredible strain for everyone involved.

I assume that is where you find yourself. I assume you have hardened your heart to make this process less painful for yourself. I assume these things because it's plausible, and I don't want to live in a world where someone treats a monogamous partner willing to let you date outside the relationship so coldly for no reason when such a person is, in fact, a very rare blessing who should not be taken for granted.

That doesn't mean you have to stay with him, of course. Like I said, irreconcilable differences are a real thing. But unless you have been horribly mistreated by your husband repeatedly in ways not mentioned here, you AT LEAST owe him being treated with a little bit of fucking respect if you do strongly feel you have to break up.

My advice to you is to go back to the drawing board and try to work out a compromise. In a way that respects your husband. If that genuinely cannot be done, keep it cleaner and ask for the divorce first. And if that happens, I also advise you brace for most casual observers to shittalk you for all they're worth.

[galindaarduennaa]

Galinda frowned as Elphie seemed to want to move on from the topic of her own marriage. She wished that Elphie could see herself the way Galinda saw her. She knew that whoever married Elphie would be a very lucky person indeed, but she didn’t want to push the topic more.

Of course Elphie brought the conversation back to Fiyero. She sighed, knowing that Elphie was right. “Elphie, it’s either Fiyero or one of my parents’ business associates’ sons. Maybe if someone else magically shows up at Shiz, but I think I’m pretty limited. Unless I want them to disown me and tell me how I’m making a giant mistake.” She hated feeling so trapped. Honestly, there were some days she wondered if her life would have been easier if she had been born a boy (although the thought made her shudder), because then at least she would have had more choice in her future. She covered her face again, knowing there was one other thing she didn’t feel quite ready to admit to herself either.

Third Wheel

Galinda was exhausted as she walked out of her math class. She was grateful that Elphie had encouraged her to finish her homework the night before, otherwise she doubted she would have been able to finish it on time for class. She woken up a few times the night before worrying about her magic training and all of the feelings she had been having recently. She still didn’t have any more clarity on her situation or what she should do about everything. She was just grateful her classes were done for the day, and she planned to meet Elphie for dinner. She had stayed a couple of minutes extra at the end of class to ask her professor a question, and she hoped that Elphie wouldn’t think she wasn’t coming to meet her. She was making her way across the courtyard when she heard a voice call her name. How had he found her again?

Galinda turned and smiled at Fiyero. “Dearest, hello! I didn’t expect to see you!” This was putting her behind in meeting Elphie. She didn’t feel she could keep walking, but she also didn’t want to be any later to meet her friend.

“I knew your math class ended around now. I’d like us to have dinner again. We need to spend more time together.” He reached down and took one of her hands, smiling at her.

“Oh, but I had plans to meet Elphie for dinner tonight,” she said, unsure of what to do. How did he know her class schedule this well?

“Galinda, I would really like to have dinner with you. Don’t you want to have dinner with me?” She felt trapped as he looked at her. How could she tell him no? He was her boyfriend, of course he wanted to have dinner with her. She nodded, feeling defeated, and the two began walking toward the cafeteria. As they got closer to the cafeteria, she saw a familiar flash of black and green walking by.

“Elphie!” she called, tugging on Fiyero’s hand. “Elphie! I still want to have dinner! Please join us!” She could feel Fiyero stiffen next to her and realized he was likely disappointed, but all she wanted was to spend more time with her friend.

[phoenixyfriend]

Political ads: My opponent has jacked up taxes every year since he was elected!

Me: Which taxes? Income? Sales? Property? Business?

Political ads: I promise to hold the line on taxes!

Me: Which taxes? What government programs do those taxes contribute to? What gets cut if the lack of taxation causes a deficit?

Political ads: Think about the taxes!

Me: WHICH TAXES. WHICH TAXES ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. TELL ME WHO'S ACTUALLY GETTING AFFECTED BY THESE TAXES YOU'RE SO CONCERNED WITH.

Reminder to always ask what it is that people aren't saying in these ads.

A lot of them want you to think that it is your personal taxes as a working-class person that they're talking about. But if it's taxes on the rich that they're "holding the line on," then they're using your desire to survive with a greater portion of your own income as fuel to keep the upper classes from paying their fair share.

I keep getting the same three or four political ads (half aren't even for the district I live in) and I'm frustrated that they use these transparent tactics and that there are probably people that don't have the time or background to take that moment to go 'what are they hoping I hear in this? What are they actually going to do?'

[ima-ghost-art]

Fic/ comic idea I've been thinking of,,,,

Leo taking a journey Odysseus style to see Jason one last time in Elysium, I'm thinking Hazel and Frank to complete the trio!

On their journey, the group come across various ghosts, some they recognise, others not so,, like old foes (Octavian), gods (pluto/Hades, Persephone & Thanatos) famed heroes (Odysseus (I have BIG ideas for Ody and Leo talking) Zoey, Beckendorf and Selina), and even familial ones (their mother's, Sammy and Grandma Zhang)

Before it all comes to a head and they find jason, sweet sweet Jason, who when he sees them can't help but beam. Hugging his dear friends with everything he has. When he hugs Leo, tears brimming in their eyes, they can't help but choke on their words as they can't help the painful emotions that it took walking through the underworld to reunite.

Before they have to leave, Jason makes Leo promise on the river styx that it should be a long long time before they see eachother again, he was not allowed to go sacrificing himself so carelessly, and instead live a long happy life

[wildstar25]

What physical part(s) of Arsay does her partners find the most attractive! Is it the same for all partners or does it differ between them?

(also optional bonus ask of what part(s) of/about Arsay generally do they love the most, physical or not!)

Meanwhile, if you were to ask the same of Arsay:

[camellcat]

WTFFF I thought thirteen would be my new girl crush love of my life heart eyes wife you-came-after-twelve-you-must-be-better-than-they're-all-saying bbygirl and then I had to sit down and watch as she told a man who (if he were not a murderer, of course) literally every regeneration before her would've LOVED and FULLY SUPPORTED that "the systems aren't the problem. how people use and exploit the system, that's the problem. people like you" </33333 !?!?

[girls-and-honey]

.

[nothorses]

I was talking with my dad recently & we got on the topic of People Thinking They Can't Do Things, and like, he is at his core a well-intentioned person who genuinely wants the best for others, but he has definitely internalized some harmful ideas a la "anyone can do anything, the only thing stopping them is their own attitude". so I was like. I see where you're coming from, but let me tell you a story.

last year, I worked with 10 year olds- many of whom had never really spent time outdoors- in an outdoor education program where they came to spend a whole week doing shit outside in nature. the top two scariest experiences for these kids were 1) very tall metal tower, and 2) walking outside at night in the dark with no flashlights.

I tried a lot of different things to persuade them all to join me for each experience: I presented it with enthusiasm and passion, I did physical demonstrations and scientific explanations to help them understands how safe it was, I voiced my absolute commitment to their safety, I invited them to brainstorm ways to help each other and themselves feel safe, etc.

generally I always had at least 2-3 kids out of about 10 who opted out, or if they did join me, would spend the entire experience crying and freaking out. when it was over, they would conclude that even though they did not die- or even get hurt- it was so scary that it wasn't worth it and they never wanted to do it again.

then I changed the question I asked. instead of asking them to tell me whether they could do it or couldn't do it, I asked them to raise their hand for one of three options:

You can definitely do this.

It will be hard or scary or uncomfortable, but you can try to do this.

It will definitely be too hard, scary, or uncomfortable, and you cannot or should not try to do this.

suddenly, almost nobody was opting out of these experiences.

they would try, even if they were scared, because they know that being scared didn't necessarily mean that they couldn't do it at all. and more importantly, they knew that if they needed to stop, that was an option; they weren't trapped in their decision to try.

and the real takeaway here, for me, is in the nuance: people need to be able to challenge themselves and to be uncomfortable in order to grow, and people need to be able to opt out in order for opting in to be a safe option.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

Sylus

Part 2

Pairing: Sylus x f!Reader

Summary: You have to share some news with Sylus, you're just not sure how to tell him.

Warnings: Fluff, Pregnancy, Yes Sylus has a son but no worries girl dad agenda being pushed in the next part!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

Sylus is past his prime, that he knows. He isn’t the same young handsome man that he once was. Even if you insist that he looks better with each passing day, he knows he doesn’t look like he once did. It’s not something he dwells on though. He likes getting older with you.

“You have to stop acting like you’re dying, Sylus! You’re turning 40.” You scold him as you finish frosting the cake that you’ve poured your heart and soul into. The man has never really cared for birthdays until he got to spend them with you– And they became a sweet tradition until Sylus realized just how old he’s getting.

Sure, 40 isn’t that old but when you’re watching someone else grow with you, it makes you feel ancient. Especially since Sylus watched this person be born, and now he’s too old to spend time with his father.

“Couldn’t he have the sleepover on a different day? Did he have to go away on my birthday?” Sylus asks, swirling the glass in his hand. He can’t bear to look up at you because he doesn’t want you to see how upset he is about this. 

“I know it sucks, but we slowly have to get used to this. He’s a teenager.” You tell him, and he scoffs. Teenager. Just yesterday the child was begging Sylus to teach him how to ride a bike, but now he doesn’t have the time to spend with his old man.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “At least I don’t have to go through this again. It’s just one and done.”

“Right…” You awkwardly respond, and that gets his attention. He frowns, looking up at you as you continue making his cake.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sylus questions, and you come to a stop. Maybe you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“I just said right.” You try to play it off, a chuckle leaving your lips. Perhaps it would’ve worked back when you started to date (it wouldn’t) but it won’t work now that you’ve been married for– He can’t tell you, he’s lost track of time. 

“Right? In that tone?” He points out, and you bite down your lip. Sylus reaches over to get some of the frosting from his cake, and you slap his hand away. 

“Wait till it’s time to cut it.” You scold him, and he clicks his tongue. 

“Can’t we cut it now? It’s just going to be the two of us anyway.” He says, and you shake your head. You pull the cake closer to you, and Sylus sighs again. “Can’t have my son, can’t have my cake, can’t get anything I want.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You tell him, and he lets out a low chuckle. Maybe he is.

“You sly fox, you changed the topic.” He replies, and you hold back a laugh. He stands up, walking over to you until he towers behind you. You can’t run away now.

You feel his breath on your neck as he lowers his head. He whispers, “What are you hiding, kitten?” 

“I’m not–”

“You really think you can lie to me?” He cuts you off before you even get a chance to finish the thought. There’s no need, Sylus can read your mind– Well almost. 

“I don’t want to ruin the night.” You confess, words that worry him.

“Ruin the night? How would it ruin the night?” He questions, and you shut your eyes. You begin to get nauseous, and you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. “What exactly are you keeping from me?”

“So you remember Koen’s terrible threes where you said that you would never have another child, and we agreed that he was more than enough?” You bring up, and he has no idea where you’re leading with this. He simply hums in response. “And you remember a couple of months ago where we had a little more alcohol than we should’ve?”

“Kitten, get to the point.” The connection doesn’t immediately happen in his mind, and you sigh. You didn’t want to outright say it, but he doesn’t get it.

“I’m pregnant, Sylus.” You spit out, and you feel as your heart drops. You were going to wait a couple of days before telling him but he spoiled the surprise.

Then he’s silent. For the longest minute of your life, he’s silent. And just when you’re about to speak up, he kisses your cheek. You turn around to face him, and he cups your face before kissing you. He kisses you over and over again before asking, “How would that ruin my night?”

“We haven’t agreed to have more kids and since you’re so bummed out about being old and all… You know–” You begin, and he lets out a low laugh. 

It’s been on his mind lately since his son has completely left him behind, he just didn’t want to bring it up. The universe has granted his wish without even trying.

“And when the baby turns ten you’ll be fifty and–” You ramble, and Sylus wants to scold you for ruining the moment, but it’s impossible. He simply kisses you, overjoyed by the news.

He’s becoming a father again.

[whokilledsamara]

hii!! I saw you write for homicipher so i was wondering if you could write some dark/yandere sfw & nsfw headcanons for mr scarletella 🥹 thank you so much & take ur time!!

MR. SCARLETELLA HC {N/SFW}

a Mr. Scarletella {homicipher} x reader n/sfw hc list.

{thank you for your support and nice words! :3}

warnings! : stalking, non-con, dub-con, hardcore, marking, slight gore, rough sex, violence, rough fingering, biting, cunnilingus, blowjobs, smut, murder mention, somno

{an : i didnt quite get what you meant when you said "dark" so hopefully this is what you meant. this is really hardcore. to the soft hearted people and people who cant handle ACTUAL freaky stuff, i wouldnt recommend reading this. there is a small section underneath the regular nsfw hc with a cw on it, so if you cant handle certain topics, there is still an nsfw section without it. he is my favorite character from homicipher ommggg hes so hot. id give him my name HAPPILY.}

SFW HC

sfw relationship/meeting him hcs

when you first meet him alone, he is very unexpected. his presence and constant facial expression is unnerving to say the least, but as long as you can manage that you will be fine.

if you end up "accepting" him, the relationship would be very weird.

he would be a wonderful partner despite the obvious other reasons, but dont think he wont be watching you constantly.

he will bring you daily gifts, consisting of anything he can find that he thinks you will like.

as for touch, he will let you touch him. usually he wouldnt let anyone even accidentally touch him, as he would teleport away, but one you are in a relationship with him, most boundaries he had before are gone.

he is rather fond of holding you. whether that be in his coat {for some reason} or just in general.

in Japanese culture {from my research, i am NOT Japanese!!} holding an umbrella with someone is a sign of love and acceptance. therefore he always likes you to hold it with him.

he isnt one of those "down-lo" kind of people. he makes it known everywhere that you are his.

he will do whatever it takes to please you. you are literally his princess/prince. even if that includes killing someone {he does it anyways}

if he catches anyone staring at you, or even remotely close to you, he will either teleport you away {if you are friends with the person} or kill them on the spot.

no matter how much he seems to be emotionless, anything involving you in pain or discomfort, it will flip a switch in him.

he has to be near you always. whether you know it or not, he will be there.

he hasnt quite grasped the concept of kissing or "romantic" things, but whatever you do he goes along with it. he rather enjoys hand holding or pressing his face into your neck.

he is the delulu type {this whole fandom knows it} and anything you do he will take as flirting. dont deny it though, hes too obsessed to care

he has a big thing for the height difference. he is a little over 8 feet tall, and feels a need to protect you at any cost.

any cost.

NSFW HC

what its like to have sex with him.

starting off, this man is a BEAST during sex.

he is a quick learner, and whether he is using his hands, mouth, or any part of his body, he will find those spots that makes you squirm.

one of his favorite things is you riding his thigh in public. say he was talking with Mr. Silvair, and happened to be sitting down. he would want you on his thigh "discreetly" getting off. bonus points if you cum.

he wouldnt be opposed to a threesome, but he has to trust the other person. a rare occasion.

anything you want to do, he will immediately comply. need him to go down on you? hes on his knees. even in public. need his fingers inside of you? absolutely. need his dick? against the wall you go.

he has a big dick, and luckily he knows it. he wont force everything inside at first, but eventually he will. you can take it. he thinks

he loves your body, and he makes sure you know it. even in his strange language, you can understand the things he is saying because he is touching you while he is doing it.

he makes little to no noise during sex, but not because he isnt enjoying it. he LOVES sex with you, but he prefers to listen to your noises. he would have it on repeat if he could.

you could look like anything and he would still find you to be the most attractive person on earth {or his earth, whatever}

for afab, he isnt one of those guys who has a hard time finding your clit. in fact, he doesnt even have to look. immediately his fingers will be circling that little nub that he loves so much.

he is a very dominating person, but it probably wouldnt be hard for him to let you dominate him. i say let because in no situation do you actually have control.

his fingering sessions are borderline violent, the pads of his fingers hitting that perfect spot with every curl.

cw! its about to get very dark and possibly triggering! viewer discretion is advised!

if you are one of those people who get off on your man killing for you, then he is the man. he will torture people in front of you as you touch yourself.

his sex isnt even borderline violent, it IS violent. if hes angry especially, he doesnt care if he hurts you.

afab, he will bruise your cervix and make you bleed. his tip hits so hard with his brutal thrusts that you will.

on certain occasions, {tw!!!} he will force himself on you. while it is rare, r...pe can happen, so be careful and dont piss him off.

he doesnt need sleep, so if hes horny enough then he will fuck you while you're sleeping. if you explicitly ask him not to, then he will just jerk himself off over your sleeping form.

dont expect to walk away from a rough fucking WITHOUT marks all over you. he makes it a mission to bite, claw, tear, any part he can. he wants you covered in blood, it gets him off faster.

will probably brand you with something

if you have a trauma kink he WILL use it to his advantage.

thats all bye bye!!! :3

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[mailmango]

One-on-One

Pairing: Professor Henry Cavill x Student Male Reader

Genre: Fluffy Smut, MDNI

Kinks/Warnings/Notes: AMAB Reader; Calling the reader a slut, a whore; Calling the reader a good boy, praise; Slapping and spanking; Age gap; Professor x Student

Length: 5.1k words, Fic

Synopsis: You're one of the lucky few to have ever experienced one of Professor Cavill's lectures. And you are the lucky, singular person to have ever experienced his heart-racing one-on-one session.

A/N: oml hiiii! If you're reading this, then thank you very much! this is my first time writing something over a thousand words (of my own volition) in probably 3 years at least! It's also my first time writing serious smut GAHAHAHAH I would appreciate feedback (totally optional), but most of all, hope you enjoy :D

Credits: @/aquazero for the divider and @/starboye for helping me with formatting and tagging!! ^-^

I picked this one just for you! I hope it’s sweet and juicy…

You’ve always liked your Ancient Mythologies Studies class. It was an easy A, one that came packaged with an interesting topic to boot. Who doesn’t want to hear of the religions and myths of civilizations from thousands and thousands of years ago?

The answer is most people. It was one of the smallest classes–even with a size cap of twenty, it had barely filled out ten slots. It seemed most people simply didn’t take interest in the subject. That meant that most people were poor, unfortunate people, because they didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Professor Cavill. 

Professor Cavill had worked at the university teaching their Ancient Mythologies Studies class for the past several years. He was a graduate of this school and, after having established himself as a prominent archaeologist, he opted to take time and teach a course for two sessions weekly. In his words he, “Wanted to help inspire any young people with a passion for learning about those that came before us.” 

You had found those words so, so interesting. But it was more so about the man saying them. 

Professor Cavill–Henry–was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties. He was kind and considerate to each member of his class, treating them with a warmth and manner you’d read about in an overly unrealistic romance novel. And yet, he was very much real. You had class with him every Monday morning and Friday night. 

Classes which you would sit in, bouncing your leg and hiding a raging boner as you watched the man fiddle with and adjust his tie. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N, are you sure you’d rather not attend the festivities?” 

Ah, just your luck, wasn’t it? Your college had been holding a concert for a handful of its alumni to celebrate their band’s first national tour. The university had decided that, due to the band falling under the alternative genre, they would allow classes to continue should any students or staff be disinterested. 

It just so happened that, as much as you weren’t opposed to them, you also weren’t heavily inclined to actually attend their show. You had figured that at least one of your ten classmates would feel the same. 

Apparently not.

Hence, you now sat alone in a small lecture room, the chairs beside you empty as you stared at your beloved professor, Professor Cavill. 

“Ah, no, professor. Were you looking to attend?” 

“Myself? My personal taste doesn’t align with their music. As much as I love Clive-” 

Clive was the lead singer and, as you recall, one of Professor Cavill’s former students. 

“-we’ll be meeting for a congratulations dinner tomorrow evening. We’ve already discussed.”

He smiled, dimples forming, as he flipped open his files for the night’s lecture. 

Then he had to reach for his stupid tie. 

“Would you mind if I loosened my tie? I’ve been feeling warm as of earlier this evening.” 

His large, somewhat hairy hand was already holding the knot one either side. He did it often; you had come to suspect it was an unconscious habit at times. He would tug at his tie, calling attention to his strong chest or those bulging biceps…

Damn his stupid tie. Today, it was his blue tie, one you knew to be one of his favourites. He wore it at least thrice a month, most often during Friday sessions.

Every time he would touch it, toy with it, it sent shivers down your spine and blood straight to your cock. You almost weren’t sure if you hated or loved that he was almost never without one.

“Ah, not at all, Sir. Go ahead.” 

“Thank you, Y/N.”

God, your name sounded so good out of his mouth. He drew the syllables out, gave it this weight that you hadn’t heard your name spoken with before. You could get addicted to the way he had said it just now. You were tempted to find an excuse to have him say it again. 

That opportunity came as, for the first time, he pushed past absentminded tugs at his tie and now pulled the knot away from his chest. For the first time, you saw his neck without the tie drawing attention. It almost sounded manic to say but… the sight began to draw you in. 

And then he overshot it. The tie came off, knot still done, but it was completely removed now. He stared down at the cloth before using his free hand to undo it, leaving it nice and straight in his hand. 

“Do you mind if I forgo it?”

Eye contact. He made eye contact with those god damn near hypnotising eyes. They really were unique; the man had something called segmental heterochromia. He had mentioned it once before. It meant that his left iris, though mostly blue like his right, had a patch of brown in its upper half. 

It felt mystifying, like a siren whose song you couldn’t ignore. He continued to look at you, and without him breaking eye contact, you were hopelessly unable to do so yourself. Instead, you simply muttered a weak response. 

“Go ahead, Sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Class seemed to fly by. Your hand wrote on its own as your legs bounced, mind and senses completely and utterly hinged on the man’s every word and movement. Though he entranced you each time you sat in on his lectures, tonight was different. You had always blamed his tie. It’s the tie. The playing with the tie, his stature with it, that’s what you blamed for your constant erections. 

But it was difficult to deny it when, as the man orated with his tie discarded, you found your cock throbbing more eagerly than you can remember it having ever done before.

Sweat rolled down your forehead from the heat you were feeling. You cursed yourself, begging that the man would somehow not notice the warmth that afflicted you. But, as you let yourself look at him again, really look at him, you were both relieved and mortified to find that he was under the same circumstances. 

“Is the air conditioning broken?”

His words were breathless as he fanned himself with his papers. He was tugging at his collar now, further exposing his neck, now slick with sweat. It seemed to be bothering him more than it was you, somehow. 

“I-I think so.”

You could barely manage to let the words out. Your breathing had gotten unsteady, mind and body unable to focus as the man groaned from the discomfort. Seemingly without realising, his hand undid the two topmost buttons of his shirt. It exposed his chest–a strong chest covered in wild, dark black hair that you had been completely oblivious to the glorious existence of.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Is something-”

Of course now he notices your stares. It couldn’t have been when it was something that was easily explained away, like you were staring at him due to intent listening. No, it had to be when your gaze, which he followed, led down to his exposed chest. His exposed chest which had, mortifyingly, caused a wet spot to form in your pants. 

“Ah, my apologies. Let me redo my button-” 

“No! I mean-”

Your words came out too eager. Your brain was screaming at your mouth not to speak, to not make an utter fool of yourself. But your mouth chose to go rogue, instead opting to speak like a horned-up teen begging his boyfriend to keep making out with him. 

“Y-you don’t have to. I don’t mind.” 

An eyebrow was cocked in your direction. 

“Is that so, Y/N?” 

Your silence was used to scream, rather than actually think of anything remotely close to damage control. 

“Y-yes Sir. I don’t mind if you keep your buttons undone.”

“If that’s the case, then…” 

Was this… reality? Surely it could be. It was impossible. 

You were sitting there, cock leaking with precum like you were a virgin watching your first porno, as your handsome professor began to undo buttons, one after another. He was exposing himself further and further with each passing second, each button exposing a new section of chiselled, hairy, sweat-covered skin.

His breaths were deep and heavy, sighs and groans of relief sending more and more sensations to your cock. Every vibration of his vocal chords seemed to be felt in full force by your erection, not helping your situation in any way whatsoever. 

Then the man had the gall to take his shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it aside. 

His body truly was magnificent. Plush, thick muscles were a constant, whether you looked at his chest, his abs, his shoulders, or any of his muscles. They radiated strength, covered in that same black hair as on his chest and equally slick with sweat. His body glistened under the dim light of the lights hanging above, almost like a gladiator fresh from battle. 

How the hell were you supposed to react? What the hell were you supposed to do? 

“Y/N, it’s hot, isn’t it? Would you mind if I further… undressed?”

How the hell were you supposed to say no to that? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost pathetic how easily the man got you to fish your cock out of your strained pants. Little more than an offhanded request, actually. 

Now you sat, pants and underwear around your ankles, your own shirt unbuttoned, as you feverishly pumped your erect dick. Your hand glided up and down due to the slickness of your overflowing precum, breathing unstable and desperate. But you were helpless, the possibility of you stopping a distant memory.

Professor Cavill was now nearly nude. He had discarded his elegant brown leather shoes and well-tailored pants, also in a neat pile on his desk. It left him, his statuesque form, completely exposed to you and your horny, unabashedly feral mind. It was a wonder you hadn’t cum yet. 

“Keep pumping for me, Y/N. Be a good boy and keep going.” 

Fuck, you couldn’t stop. Not when he said your name in a gruff, demanding voice. Not when he called you the sweetest pet names. Not when he stared at you, panting and eager, with a hunger that a predator has for its prey. 

Most especially when his cock strained against dark, black fabric, as he rubbed along his clothed shaft as he took in the sight of your desperate form. 

“Prof-” 

“Henry. Call me Henry, Y/N.” 

Shit, you could feel your cum about to well up and burst. 

“Henry!” 

He gave you a curt nod of approval. Your stomach pulsed with excitement. 

“P-please, fuck me-!” 

You looked at him, eyes wide and begging, and desperately awaited a reply. With mercy, he gave you one. 

“Alright, Y/N. I’ll fuck you.” 

You let out a pathetic, strangled mewl as your cum sprayed up and onto your sweaty torso. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henry–gah, you got to call him Henry–had a cock that you couldn’t fully process was actually human. It was too perfect. It was thick, nearly as thick as your wrist though thankfully just short. It was lengthy, having had to be nine or ten inches at full mast. His balls were heavy, full of cum that he was eager to let out, and the base of his shaft was buried in a wild, thick, furry bush. 

It was so close to you. It throbbed in front of you as you sat in your chair, the proximity allowing you to see the thick, pulsing vein that ran from base to near the tip. It let you watch as that fat, mushroom tip leaked a viscous, sticky precum. It lets you inhale that delicious, heady musk, intoxicating your mind and sending it reeling. 

It was almost too much to process. Almost.

You were far, far too eager to begin sucking on the fat shaft. Who could blame you? People would pay good money to get a taste of a cock this perfect. 

Fuck, the taste! A salty, somehow indescribably masculine taste, that flooded and overwhelmed your mind. It felt like you were at risk of addiction. Nothing had ever or would ever taste this damn divine. The copious amounts of thick, even saltier, precum being pumped into your throat was an excellent, equally addictive addition.

Even though it hurt and strained your jaw to stretch that wide and accommodate its length, the activity felt simply euphoric. If Henry would let you, you’d opt to do nothing more and nothing less than worship his cock, day and night. 

“That’s a good, good boy, Y/N. Lube up my cock.”

You always were one to follow Henry’s instructions. Always one to listen, to be a good, obedient puppy. Maybe that’s why you were his favourite. 

And, as he uttered praise and guided your head with a large hand’s firm grip, you certainly weren’t going to start disobeying now. With a hum of acknowledgement, you dutifully continued your task.

Once satisfied, Henry grunted and lightly tapped the back of your head. 

“That’s good, baby. That’s enough. Come, get off my cock now.” 

Part of you wanted to resist. How were you supposed to tear yourself away from his dick? It sounded impossible. But, you were eager for his praise, to hear him call you a good boy again. So, with one last deep dive down, your nose pressed into his hairy bush and your lips to the base of his shaft, you reluctantly pulled your face away and off of his delicious dick. 

“Good fucking boy. You’re a very, very good boy, Y/N.” 

Your cock throbbed with lust-filled need as you nodded with pure excitement. 

“You deserve a reward. Lay on my desk, Y/N, and let me take care of your now.” 

This was somehow the easiest instruction of the night to follow. You found yourself, now nude with your clothes having been folded just like Henry’s, laying on your back on his wooden desk. The surface felt cold and hard, but the feeling of a sturdy base comforted you. You knew that you’d need it. 

As you took deep, steady breaths. The first of the night, actually. Your mind was trained on one thing, one concern rather. 

How would you take his monstrous cock? 

The answer would come soon. Without warning, your legs were lifted by two strong hands. You looked down, seeing as Henry in all his glory set your ankles on his broad shoulders. He began pressing light kisses to your skin, beard tickling your skin, as he maintained unwavering eye contact. It caused you to let out a soft laugh, which he opted to respond to. 

“Your voice is beautiful, Y/N. Save it for me, okay?” 

You felt it then. His fat, throbbing, steaming hot cock was set beside yours, pressed between your dick and your thigh. He was slowly and subtly moving his hips back and forth, groaning at the sensational friction.

“You’ll let me hear you sing tonight, yeah? Let me hear your wonderful voice, Y/N.” 

His words were sweet like honey. It was almost enough to distract you from the prodding of his thick fingers against your tight hole. But, as you felt them push past your tight ring of muscle, your voice came out like the gates had been torn down, a moan resounding through the room. 

“There you go. Good boy… moan for me. Let me hear each and every one, okay?” 

You stared at him, eyes half-lidded, and nodded with an eager need to please.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Deep breaths, Y/N. Deep breaths for me now…”

How could someone so sweet cause so much pain? Henry was hunched over, his large, comforting hands on either side of your head as he hovered his face no more than four inches from yours. His heavy breaths fanned against your cheeks as he kept a steady, solid eye contact between you two. It was wondrous how much fire brewed within you from such a mundane act. 

“Are you ready? I’m going to insert the tip, alright?” 

He looked at you with such care and concern that it almost shocked you. He was a big, hulking man with a terrifyingly huge cock, but as it has come to be shown, a larger heart. It was so damn cheesy, wasn’t it? 

But that didn’t matter as you nodded once again, body unable to take the anticipation, the waiting, for him to shove his fat cock inside. 

…Except maybe it had to. His cockhead slipped inside with ease, but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t fucking painful. You let out a strangled half-moan half-scream, and within seconds, those large hands were patting the side of your head.

“Y/N? Is it too much? I’ll stop, okay? Should I pull out?”

Henry was kissing your forehead, your cheeks, the sides of your lips. He muttered small praises and comforts, every other kiss targeting a tear that had fallen from the pain. He kept true to his word; his hips remained still, his cock not pushing a millimetre further inside. It was from that moment of calm that, as you adjusted to the burning stretch, you were able to speak. 

“D-don’t. Just- give me a second to-“ 

You huffed out, desperate for air. 

“-adjust!” 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. He tasted, somehow, better than his cock. It wasn’t quite something you could place, to be frank. It was a savoury taste, one with hints of candies you couldn’t identify and a tea whose flavour you couldn’t imagine. But it was entirely and wholly the delicious thing you’ve ever or will ever have. 

That was worth getting addicted to. And if Henry would let you, you’d chase that taste every single moment you can. Something told you that yeah, he would. 

“You’re doing so, so good for me, Y/N. So good, you feel so good…” 

Henry’s voice was low and comforting, just as much, if not more than his calming touches. He spoke in whispers between each kiss, and it led you to slowly, but surely, adjust to the pain. Before you had even realised, all you felt was the desire for him to push even further. 

“H-Henry, you can move now… please…” 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” 

Hearing your name roll off his tongue, so casual by this point, only cemented your enthusiasm. You nodded slowly and weakly, smiling the best you could. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful… Hold on to me, and tell me if I need to stop, okay?” 

Your cock nearly bounced at the praise. You eked out another nod as your hands came up to rest on his shoulders, leading him to return your smile with one of his own. And fuck, it was gorgeous. 

He kept his movement slow. It was torturous, but you could appreciate the time and the caution he took. His face watched yours, now scanning for any sign of pain or discomfort. At every wince or scrunch, he would stop, waiting for a nod or smile as your sign of readiness. 

“You feel excellent, Y/N. Being with you… I could get obsessed with this feeling, you know?” 

He leaned down to kiss you yet again. He kissed you, giving you yet another helping of that impossibly lovely taste: his taste. 

And then… then he brushed against your prostate, his cock like a mallet smashing into a button. Even slow, it sent a shock up your spine and a resulting heat through your nerves. Your loud, vulgar moans were taken with great joy and adoration from Henry, his smile only growing fonder. 

“You sound so good, Y/N. Let it out for me…” 

Perhaps you took it a tad too far as your cock, with the pressure to your prostate, burst with another spray of hot, sticky cum that painted both tour and Henry’s stomachs. Such a reaction was met with a warm laughter. 

“Not what I meant, but I’m not complaining. It’s good to know you feel good, baby.” 

He leaned in for yet another kiss and, in the hypnotising exchange, you just barely processed a large, encapsulating hand taking hold of your cock. Henry began to spread your cum across your own shaft, using it to pump your still-sensitive cock towards unbearable pleasure. 

“I’m gonna keep making you feel good, okay?” 

Sweat had beaded all over your skin now, streams running down your body as Henry’s own dripped down and onto your frame. He was pushing just a bit faster now—you almost couldn’t take the wait any longer. That once painful stretch had evolved into pleasure. It had evolved from a burning heat contained to your ass and spread into this resounding, unending warmth washing through you. In the process, it had devolved you into a writhing, moaning mess.

His cock was large, that was certainly clear. It was the kind of large that made your stomach bulge, the kind that you knew you wouldn’t ever be able to take with ease no matter how many times it had fucked you. And shit, you hoped that it would fuck you so, so many more times. 

But your composure only broke down further when his cock seemed to reach so impossibly deep inside, spreading your insides apart like it was trying to break you. Moan after moan fell out as your back arched involuntarily, only accentuating the bulge in your stomach. 

“Baby? Y/N?” 

You hadn’t even realised it, but Henry had stopped pushing himself deeper. Now, as he buried into what felt like the core of you and sent waves of electrifying heat with even the slightest twitch of his dick, his hips were flush against yours. He had bottomed out. 

“Henry…” 

Words other than the man’s name didn’t seem to be able to form. He, however, had so much to say. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing, Y/N. You’re taking me so damn well…” 

The hand not on your cock let go of your face and glided down your body, tracing lines down your shaking body, and stopped just over the bulging portion of your stomach. He brushed it gently, causing yet another crackle of electricity to wrack through you.

“Can… can I start to move?” 

Oh, you could’ve broken your neck with how fast you agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit, shit! You feel so damn good, Y/N.” 

Henry’s calm demeanour had taken a backseat. It was still there, in careful touches to your face and sweet caresses of your body. You could still hear it in every little praise he threw out, and every loving glance he gave your half-lidded eyes. 

His hips, though, had practically lost any form of restraint. 

He withdrew and pushed back in with speed and force, hips slamming with a harsh and sharp slap. Your ass felt sore by this point, but it was a warm, comfortable soreness when paired with the sheer, blinding pleasure of Henry’s cock. 

By the gods, the pleasure was insane. It was driving you mad, your vision going white. His cock, no matter how many times it was thrust into you, remained impossibly large and impossibly deep-reaching. It felt as though it only went deeper and deeper with each push, a result of your fractured state. 

But how could one stay sane when their body was being overwhelmed with such unimaginable pleasure. 

As drool began to spill and your eyes rolled back, Henry was quick to grab you by the chin and lock you into yet another kiss. Unlike the times before, though it carried the same sweetness, it was now heavy with a hunger, a need. He hungered for you, and he needed to fucking ruin you. 

And Henry’s a man who accomplishes his goals, isn’t he? He began thrusting into your harder, harsher than he had before. He thrust over and over and over again, his movements without a single missed beat or second of hesitation. 

His kisses remained constant too. His thick, strong tongue had shoved its way past your pretty lips and began to gnash against your tongue. It was a strange but nonetheless mind numbingly good feeling to have him invade your body even further. 

By now, his grip had transferred to and firmed on your hips. He kept you nice and planted in place on that damn sturdy desk of his, even as each thrust threatened its integrity. His pace was relentless, the wood starting to creak with his forcefulness. 

He drew back, saliva still stringing your mouth and his. 

“Y-you feel good, Y/N?” 

Who knew this man could stutter? But fuck, he made it sound hot. He sounded so lost in the pleasure, and even then, so firm in his every word. 

“Y-yes!” 

He gave a crooked smile at your words. 

“Good! Do you like the way I taste, Y/N? The way my spit tastes?” 

How vulgar was that? And how vulgar was it that, the second you tried to respond with a very clear yes, he decided to drop a fat glob of hot spit onto your cheek? He brought his thumb up to rub it into your skin and, hell, you were about to thank him for it. 

You couldn’t as he cut you off with yet another breathtaking kiss. You were left panting and unable to speak at all when he pulled away.

“You’re a whore, you know? A beautiful, obedient, whore.” 

His words carried no malice, only a heavy lust that he was just barely stopping from pushing him towards ruining your body completely. 

“But you’re my whore, alright? Don’t you ever fucking forget.” 

He slapped your cheek. It wasn’t one of anger, moreso just trying to snap you into focus. He wanted an answer and, as his best and favourite student, he knew he would get a reply out of you. 

“I-I’m your whore, sir!” 

It was a miracle you could speak, really. It was especially miraculous because the second he heard that, with one resounding slam of his hips into yours, you felt it. 

“Fuck, Y/N!”

In the moment, as you arched your back and let your mouth flow with moans at the highest possible volume, Henry’s cock pumped gush after gush of burning hot, viscous, cum. 

It felt like molten steel, an impossible extreme of everything that semen was meant to be. And as such, it brought the pleasure you felt from having your stomach pumped full of it to a high that you could never reach with any drug imaginable. 

And through it, his hips hadn’t chosen to stop. Every thrust was now being punctuated with a new load of cum filling your already full belly, each one followed then with another slap to your ass or lust-driven proclamation of love. 

“God, I love your tight fucking ass-”

You were screaming as you came at the height of the moment’s intensity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t sure when the night ended, exactly. It seemed that the man had fucked you for hours on end, until he had emptied his fat balls’ storage of cum and filled your belly with it. He had fucked you till your cock hurt, and each climax produced a dry orgasm due to empty tanks. 

He had fucked you till you were left unable to think of anything but his cock and the taste of his sweet, delicious lips.  

And now, he was buried deep inside you still, pressing kiss after kiss to your neck as you desperately gasped for air. 

“Did I go too hard? Are you hurt, Y/N?” 

Your body was, in fact, aching. It was this numb, almost muffled pain that was eclipsed—or perhaps even part of—this euphoric pleasure that continued to grasp you. Things no longer felt real, at this point, but a dream you’d rather not wake from. 

But things were very much reality, and that included a high-off-sex and full-of-affection Henry. 

“I apologise for the slaps, they were rather forceful…” 

You managed out a shake of the head to signal a no. The laugh that he gave, boisterous yet quiet, made your heart pound again. 

“I see. I suppose we’ll need ample time to explore what we both enjoy, hm?” 

The idea of more time with Henry, more time doing this, was certainly exciting. He didn’t need more than your dumb little smile, one you couldn’t wipe off your face even if you wanted or tried to, to tell you thought. 

“I can see you like the prospect, hm?” 

Another chuckle and another kiss. What bliss this was. 

“I’m going to pull out now, so that we can both get cleaned up, okay? Just breathe for me, Y/N, just like earlier.” 

You tried to follow, you really did. But as your hole was quickly left empty, gaping and clenching around nothing, you couldn’t help but whine unintelligible mutterings. Henry responded with even more pecks to your lips and caresses to your soft, delicate skin. 

Henry was certainly a gentleman. He had taken some tissues from the box he reserved for students with colds and used then to to clean the outer portion of your sloppy hole. His hands, as large as they were, moved soft and delicate, careful not to press against any overly sensitive parts. 

He had taken to cleaning himself—drying his cock, much to your dismay, with more paper towels. He had noticed your sadness and, with an admittedly smug smirk, said he’d allow you to suck his cock clean next time. It was still strange, even after the night you had had with him, to hear such lewd language uttered from the refined man’s mouth.

By the time he had dressed himself, your breathing had steadied. Your backside was still sore and leaking, but he had promised to help with that back at his apartment. 

Wait.

His apartment? 

“Ah, would you rather not? I can clean you up in the facilities here and-” 

“No, no! I’d-”

You coughed. All the sweat, mixed with what was now cool night air, had left your body just a tad sick. Well, that and the exhaustion from having taken on such an impossible task and cock. 

“-love to. I’d love to go home with you, Henry.” 

He smiled like he hadn’t heard anything quite as lovely before. You smiled back in return. 

He was the eager to tug on your boxers and wrap you in his suit jacket as a means of decency. He lifted you up bridal-style and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The man was strong and, with the ease that was carrying you, he even held your folded clothing in the hand supporting your butt. 

You even found the strength to be humorous in the moment, letting out a joking, “Ooh, strong guy, huh?” 

He graced you yet again with one of those pure, unadulterated laughs.

“I’m glad to have had this one on one session with you, Y/N. Certainly was productive, wasn’t it?”

THANK YOU to my lovely beta readers! There's a shit ton GAHAH

@inhumanshadows @worstwolverinesbf @darlingminjin @alatrysev @starboye @spermeboy @starrykie @sleep-0-deprived @slytherslvt @kurominis

Love you all :D you're all soooo nice and helped me finish this with your kind comments! Hope I didn't let you down with the end :>

[alstroemerian-dragon]

the tough thing about writing realistic narrative conflict is that. when there aren’t larger sweeping stakes, something like 80% of narrative conflict is predicated on miscommunication or the withholding of information, big or small. and as someone who is both fairly autistic and well trained in conflict resolution, my brain is screaming “WHY DO THEY NOT SIMPLY DISCUSS THINGS OPENLY!!!!!!”

its something im practicing but BOY its hard fkdhfjdhfjs. im having to go “okay what would i say in this situation. now. would this character actually admit that? no. fuck. okay how can i hint towards it without them straight up saying it”

[yurinaa-world]

May i request love and deepspace boys with clingy!reader? Shes shy too!! In public, she'll hold onto his hand or finger and stays quiet but at home she becomes a yapper machine and also likes to plop onto his lap as she talks. Sometimes likes mindlessly squeezing and playing with his meaty bicep too :3

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, & Sylus x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's clingy at home and mindlessly touches him

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I got sickkk 😫 this isn't my usual quality...I'm sorry (it had to be when it's my first post with the 4 lnds guys...Give me another chance!)

💫𝑅𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓁 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓎𝓈𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝓇"

He eats it up, watching you act shy in public, grabbing the piece of his shirt or finger whenever you're in public. The second you feel like you're in a comfortable space he watches you unwind, holding onto him so tightly that he’ll just tease you. 

Your pretty self not wanting to let go of him, not even for a glass of water, straddling his lap, and arms wrapped around his neck, hiding in his neck. You're just begging him to tease you so badly. Yet his jaw just drops whenever you unconsciously touch him more. 

While you’re talking about your day, your hands unconsciously go to his chest. aren’t you so handsy? He stops in the middle of your sentence, teasing you so much even bringing up the other times you act shameless with him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After such a long day, you can’t help but unload everything you had been feeling the entire day, just going on and on while he puts on his irrelevant commentary—letting gasps and hums, you play with the buttons on his shirt before taking your hands away from his buttons, gently caress his chest while you talk about the climax of your entire day.

“You should have seen her, she was completely soaked and the owner didn’t even say anything even though it was his fault that it happened in the first place!” you chirped—your eyes shining so bright there might be little stars in them—leaning into his face to emphasize your point, he just gasps as if he were there experiencing it. “Oh wow…” he smiles back at you—it looked more like a sly lazy grin plastered on his lips.

“Yeah! And then…”

There you go again switching through topics so fast that he might just start taking notes to understand what you’re talking about. But feel his grin get wider, while your hands shamelessly touch his chest like a creep on the streets.

“If you’re going to shamelessly touch me, at least own up instead of pretending to tell a story.” He grins, snapping you out of your story with an accusation of your character. Your eyes go wide feeling embarrassment pool into your stomach, resulting in your cheeks becoming rosy red as your hands spring back.

“I didn’t mean to touch you like.” you stutter as if he were a cop, while he just enjoys watching you freak out. “You’re such a terrible liar, you’re always touching me, taking advantage of me just because I let you do it once” he sighs dramatically, pinching, and pulling your cheek as if he were an adult lecturing a child—in reality he would be the child…“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Don’t bother, I already know the truth.”

💫𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓇"

He lets you unwind, it’s good for a person to relax after a long day, and you it’s no different—maybe a bit more affection from him while he lets you grasp onto his arms.

Arms wrapped around his one arm while you talk about your day, with a large smile on your face, your body basically sinking into the side of his. He finds it amusing the way you act but what does he expect? You’ve always been like that; it's not like he hates it, he loves it.

He even lets you play with his tie, slowly untying it and fiddling with it as if we’re some kind of toy.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I didn’t tell you about the craziest thing that happened today.” You realized, switching through topics so fast that he has to put his entire mind onto what you tell him, which he doesn’t mind, he’ll always listen to whatever you have to say. 

Your body against his, sinking into his side with your fingers fiddling with the tie as if it were a toy.

His eyes are loving to them while he listens to your voice with such attentiveness as if he were still taking a midterm exam back while he was a medical student. Just going on and on, telling every part of the story, before stopping to think of another story in the past. “Remember when we were kids!…” there you go again.

He’ll always find it adorable, a small plastered upon his gentle face from your hold speaks for itself.

 “Do you remember that?” 

“Pretty well, I remember another embarrassing thing you used to do, always holding and touching…seems that nothing changed,” he smiles at you, his hand going to withdraw your hand that was fiddled with a tie, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles.

“Your touch still feels more like a medical exam,” he gently teased you, seeing your mouth agape made him love you more.

“Not that I dislike the feeling, I can’t go a day without it.” He reassures, bringing your hand to his heart, making you feel where his heart is.

“You can Continue speaking, I won’t stop you.”

💫𝒳𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝐿𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉"

He just loves to listen to your voice, whether it be a childish story about what happened that day or a drama your friend/coworker told you.

Now it’s no different even if he’s dozing off, his head flinching awake while you straddle his lap. It's fine! He’s not tired! You should keep on talking!

Through his half-lidded eyes looking back at you. Your touches might be the thing that brings him towards the border of going to sleep and staying awake, how dangerous you are.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“And then she left her boyfriend for her boss,” you gushed, leaning into his face to exaggerate the story more while he looked back at you with his tired gaze, “can you believe it, Xavier? And you know what her boyfriend did!” you exclaimed, he can’t help but let out a yawn.

“What did he do?” he asked sluggishly, his arms snaking their way up your waist, he might just be going in and out of sleep, every time he slowly closed his eyes and opens to jump in between different stories or different parts of one long story, yet he couldn’t fall asleep, feeling your hands move around his body.

“Xavier, are you awake?” 

You gently poke his cheek, while he just softly groans before he pushes you into his neck, taking the chance to hide himself in the crook of your neck. 

“You can keep talking…”

💫𝒮𝓎𝓁𝓊𝓈 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒪𝒻 𝒪𝓃𝓎𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓈"

He’s very “attentive” to your little story about what happened in Linkon that day, with his eyes softly staring at you with that signature smirk. 

You have quite the hands, don’t you? He would think you were robbing him blind with your touches. Just feeling your arms on his bicep, his bicep right against your chest, even if he pulls slightly away, you just pull him back.

He can’t help himself but stare at you like, to the point you notice and stop your story under his gaze.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So that’s what happened…” he hums, listening to your little stories, grasping tightly on his arm while you laugh at your own story, and the way your lips grin ear to ear. 

“Pity I wasn’t there to see that.” He murmured—the little voice in the back of your head tells that it’s probably not the story he's focused on, cocking his head to the side, watching you go off onto another rant. only for you to cut your story short when you locked eyes with him for too long.

“He…”

“Something wrong?” He tilts his eyebrow with a subtle smirk on his lips, watching your lips pressed together in nervousness. “Well…” you mutter, while he just laughs at your expression. 

“Go on, keep on talking, I'd rather not miss what you were telling me, keep grabbing my arm like that as well.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[bajablastwrites]

Random ENA Headcannons I Thought About

ENA x Reader

Summary: a few headcannons mainly focused on human biology and anatomy, but there’s other topics sprinkled in as well

Author’s Note: I like the idea that ENA would be fascinated with how humans work since, you know. She’s not human, and probably thinks you’re the weird one in her world.

Honestly, she probably thinks you’re really really weird appearance wise. You quickly form an attachment to her since she’s pretty much your guide when it comes to navigating her world. She’d definitely be fascinated with your hair, since it’s not a single solid piece resting on top of your head. Whether you let her mess around with your hair is up to you.

Your body is a constant topic of interest to her, in comparison to her solid polygon body, yours is soft, smooth and squishy. So she’s constantly squishing and poking at your body. Though, you have to establish what is and isn’t appropriate for her to touch— without your permission at least.

You quickly learned that chocolat (chocolate) was actually a form of currency when ENA lost her mind watching you pretty much eat her money. After Meanie finished screaming at you for eating her hard earned money, while trying to force your mouth open in an attempt to get her money back— you immediately apologized and explained to her that chocolate is simply a tasty sweet to munch on where you come from. It’s the first recognizable food you saw in her world and assumed it was made with the intend to be eaten. She seemed to calm down a bit once she processed that you didn’t eat her coins out of malice, she actually found your form of currency to be the weird. Paper and metal? As currency to pay for goods and services? How odd. After clearing the misunderstanding up, she put you to work because she still wants her money back. Which is fair enough.

She doesn’t understand the concept of eating since we never see any entities actually eat, except when they’re transporting ENA to a new environment. She doesn’t seem to need to eat either, so the idea of putting something in your mouth and swallowing it being a very essential part of your survival was a concept she was very unfamiliar with. But if it means her new coworker gets to stay by her side and not eat her money, she’ll find something that can be deemed as edible based on your description on what you consider to be food.

ENA loves to watch you eat. That’s it, she just likes to watch you eat. It’s very fascinating to her, watching you chew and swallow something she brought you makes her happy. To her It feels like she’s contributing to your survival (which she is), so she’ll just stare at you the entire time you’re eating. Will it make you nervous? Yes. Will she stop if you ask her to? No. She can’t eat (as far as we know) so she can’t experience that for herself, so she watches you eat instead.

“Can you stop staring at me?” You awkwardly asked. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline your request, my dearest work partner. I’m currently witnessing two business assets merging together, it’s a momentous occasion that I have to witness for myself!” She leaned forward eagerly, invading your personal space and coaxing the odd looking sandwich you were holding towards your mouth. Her meanie side quickly growing impatient at your hesitance to eat under her gaze and shoving the meal into your mouth. “HURRY UP AND CHEW THE STUPID SANDWICH ALREADY!!”

Sleep is also a strange concept to her, but it’s at least something you can try and teach her to do. Though, you’ll probably have to pitch it to her like paid business expense, a promotional reward or as a business tax write off if you want her to take a nap with you. She’s seen other entities and creatures nap and sleep, so it’s not something new to her. It’s just that ENA doesn’t need sleep so she doesn’t do it, but you do so it’s not uncommon for you to wake up, only to see her inches away from your face. She tries not to disturb you while you’re asleep, but you waking up because you can feel her staring at you is both alarming to her as it is interesting.

If by chance ENA manages to read up on humans to learn more about you and how your body works, she’s going to be asking you a lot of questions or observe you more to see if what she read was true. Not only does she want to learn about you as a species, but it’s also her way of showing that she cares about you as well. It’s basically the “trying to bond with my male cat, but idk what men like so I took him to Home Depot.” Meme.

She didn’t know what you liked to do for fun so she took you to “hunt and gather” with her💀

ENA later learned what you actually like to do for fun and you guys do that instead during the rare occasions she has free time.

Your biology fascinates her, she wants to know everything about it. If you let her, she’ll run her hands over your body in order to feel your bones and joints— basically giving you a physical exam out of curiosity. When she learns about human reproductive organs she’s practically fixated on you. The concept that you can create a new life form with your body is truly fascinating to her.

“You mean to say that you have an organ with the ability to create new life inside your body is verifiably true?” ENA asked with curiosity, anticipating conformation of this new information she learned about. “Uh, yeah, why do you ask?” Mildly confused at her sudden question. “Amazing! Truly splendid, a self sufficient entrepreneur with an amazing asset full of endless potential and possibilities!” Her salesman side praised.

It doesn’t matter to her if other humans are also capable of doing the same thing, what matters to her is that you have the capacity to do so. She’s fascinated with you and you only, you’re the only human here after all. Humans are interesting to her because you’re interesting to her.