#so i thought maybe doing one of these would make me feel better

[bunny-jpeg]

better than home (kidnapper!simon) - you had seen enough horror movies to know that being kidnapped meant being on the news, being butchered, and being a cold case. but simon wasn't like that. except for the bruises he left when he took you, his touch had gentle. kind in a way that someone would brush their cat.

you flinched under his touch, but he just simply shushed you. "not gonna break a thing on ya, angel." that was his name for you. angel. he said that it was like you were given to him fro heaven, "if i do, i give ya the right to put a knife between my ribs."

it was unnerving to say the least. in the tiny home you both shared, locks on the windows, you had never seen a front door that needed a key to unlock from the outside. you tried getting out, but simon was simply so much bigger and stronger, that he didn't need to hurt you herd you back into a safer place.

"don't need to think about much anymore. safer here." he said in his gruff voice. you didn't know what kind of life this man had lived, but with the hunting knife on the coffee table, the well-used rifle over the fireplace and the old army formals in his closet. you knew that there was a story.

it didn't sink in till the first week, but you didn't have to worry about anything. you moved through the house on your own, when you scurried into rooms simon sometimes didn't follow. it was like he was bird-watching. keeping a close eye and admiring you. except you weren't exactly a free bird, rather a delicate beauty in a shiny cage.

you were surprised that simon had your favourite snacks in the pantry, even the same brand of plant-based milk you enjoyed. it was like he knew everything about you, and yet he was a total mystery.

"scary world out there." simon said, kept his distance from you in the recliner while you were curled up in the couch. you had taken a liking to a black and white checkered flannel blanket. it reminded you of the one back home, that you wondered if he just broke in a took it. he eyed you, which made it hard to read one of your many books, "pretty things like you need to be protected... bad men out there." as if this massive mountain of a man wasn't one of those so-called bad men.

you were in no place to argue. you still felt like you were in a spring locked trap and one wrong move would have it clamped down on you. that this was just some sick game before simon buried your body in the field behind the house.

"when can i go home?" you asked, finding your voice.

"this is better than home."

"are you going to kill me?" you asked before you swallowed the lump in your throat.

he shook his head, "no, ma'am. never." sounded like wedding vows rather than an answer. your curiosity only grew with each day. when you finished the books he brought you, he simply put them back in a bag and returned them from where they came from and came back with new ones.

"saw them on the shelf at the library, thought a woman like you would like them." he gave a curt nod as he dropped the canvas bag by your little nest of blankets on the floor by the television. you hadn't been able to watch television yet. primarily busied with sleeping, books, puzzles and notebooks where you had been writing.

and while it started a journal in the event the police found you. it had become more about fictional stories. for your personal pleasure. you thought about being a writer as a child, but the grind of corporate work in your adulthood seemed to dash that dream.

"next time." you said, feeling a little bold, "can you get some science fiction books too...." it felt uneasy to make any demands. he was your captor.

"well then, angel. be good for me then." he said, smiled under that mask. you looked over and made a face at him. you scampered off back into your nest of books and puzzles. maybe he was right, this was better than home. <3

a/n: this is unwell, i hope you enjoyed it. thank you!!

[regressionschool]

Trigger [an ABDL Hypnosis Story]

The café was comfortably lively, a gentle hum of voices and the occasional clink of silverware against ceramic filling the space. Sunlight streamed through wide windows, glinting off the water glasses, and the air smelled of fresh coffee and warm pastries.

Molly sat across from Dave, stirring cream into her coffee with small, absentminded motions. She had barely touched her croissant, only nibbling at the edges while her thoughts drifted. Dave, on the other hand, was cutting into a stack of pancakes with practiced ease, unfazed by the conversation unfolding between them.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Molly said, shaking her head slightly. “Like—Emma just… lets it happen?”

Dave chewed, swallowed, and lifted his coffee cup. “It’s not really ‘letting,’ though, is it? It’s what she wants.”

Molly made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “Does she? Or is it just what he wants?”

Dave arched a brow but didn’t respond immediately. He took another bite, letting the syrup soak into the pancakes before cutting another neat square. “She seems happy. I mean, she always said she wanted something different, right?”

Molly’s fingers tightened around her cup. “Different isn’t the same as being put back into—into toddlerhood. That’s not just a ‘different lifestyle,’ Dave. It’s… regressive.”

He shrugged. “And?”

“And—” Molly exhaled sharply, setting her spoon down a little too hard. “And I just don’t get how she could want that. Like, really want it. No responsibility? No autonomy? Just being put in—” she stopped, shaking her head. “It freaks me out.”

Dave took a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug. He didn’t argue, didn’t tell her she was overreacting. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he let the silence sit between them for a beat before saying, “I think it freaks you out because you can’t imagine wanting it. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Molly frowned. “I didn’t say it was wrong. I said it was scary.”

Dave tilted his head slightly. “Same thing, in a way.”

Molly opened her mouth, then shut it again, glaring at her croissant like it had personally offended her. She didn’t like that—when Dave did that thing where he made a point without actually making one. It left her feeling unsteady, like she had to defend herself when she wasn’t even sure what she was defending.

She pushed her plate away slightly, leaning back in her chair. “I just keep thinking about it. Like, if that can happen to Emma, could it happen to anyone? What’s the… trigger?”

Dave chuckled, shaking his head. “Molly, you say that like it’s a virus or something.”

��Well, isn’t it?” she shot back. “One day, she was just our friend Emma, and now she’s…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “She’s in nappies, Dave. Full-time. And not just that, but he makes the choices now. What she eats, what she wears, when she sleeps.”

Dave tapped his fork against his plate thoughtfully. “She let him.”

“That’s what scares me,” Molly admitted. Her voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “That she let him. And she’s fine with it. More than fine. She’s… content.”

“Would it be different if she wasn’t?”

Molly blinked. “What?”

“If she was miserable,” Dave said. “If she hated it. Would you feel better?”

She scowled. “That’s not the point.”

“I think it might be,” he said, and for the first time, there was something pointed in his tone. “If she hated it, you could see it as something being done to her. But she doesn’t. So instead, you have to deal with the fact that she chose it. And that makes you uncomfortable.”

Molly crossed her arms, looking away. “It should make you uncomfortable too.”

Dave sighed and set his fork down. “I don’t know, Mol. Maybe I just don’t care as much as you do. It’s weird, yeah. But people do weird things all the time. If it makes her happy, why should it matter?”

Molly shook her head, staring out the window. Outside, people walked by with shopping bags, strollers, coffee cups in hand. Just… normal people. People who weren’t Emma.

She could almost see her in her mind—Emma, giggling, dressed in something soft and pastel, clutching a stuffed animal. Not a woman anymore. Not in the way she used to be.

Dave studied Molly for a long moment, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. The tension in her shoulders, the hard set of her jaw—it was all so familiar. The same reaction he’d seen before, whenever Emma came up in conversation.

He sighed. “You know, it’s funny.”

Molly frowned. “What is?”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping just a fraction. “You keep talking like you don’t understand. But I think, deep down, you do.”

She scoffed, opening her mouth to retort, but Dave cut her off with a single phrase, low and deliberate:

“Little minds don’t worry.”

Molly’s breath caught. For a second, nothing happened—just a flicker in her expression, a slight widening of her eyes. Then, like a ripple spreading across the surface of a pond, something shifted.

Her lips parted, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her fingers, which had been tense around her coffee cup, suddenly slackened, as if the very concept of holding it had become too complex. She blinked rapidly, her gaze unfocused.

“Wh—” Her voice came out small, uncertain. She shook her head, strands of hair falling into her face. “Whazza…?”

Dave sat back, watching as it unfolded.

Molly’s posture sagged, her body language morphing from sharp and guarded to something looser, more instinctual. The weight of her own thoughts—thoughts that had moments ago felt so heavy, so complicated—seemed to vanish.

Her expression flickered through confusion, then something closer to frustration. “S’fuzzy,” she mumbled, bringing her hands up to rub at her temples. “Don’—I don’ get… um…”

Her tongue tripped over her own words. Concepts unraveled like loose threads, slipping through her grasp. Even the sentence she’d just started—what was it supposed to be? What was she even trying to say?

Her eyes darted to Dave, wide and almost pleading.

“Davey,” she whimpered.

He hummed. “Yeah, Mols?”

“F’eels weird,” she murmured, shifting in her seat. “Dunno—s’diff’ent. Ev’rything all… ‘spicy’.”

Dave tilted his head, amused. “Spicy?”

Molly pouted, frustrated by the word she couldn’t quite find. “Mmmm, not spicy, but—y’know! All wiggly ‘n’ tingly ‘n’ funny.”

As if on cue, she let out a sharp gasp, her hands darting down to her lap. A slow warmth spread beneath her, soaking into the fabric of her jeans, pooling against the seat.

Molly let out a breathy little whimper as the last remnants of adult thought crumbled. “Uh-oh…”

A dark patch spread beneath her, creeping outward, the undeniable hiss of her accident filling the air.

Dave chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “That’s okay, kiddo,” he said lightly. “Little girls don’t worry ‘bout things like that, remember?”

Molly blinked up at him, her bottom lip wobbling, the lingering ghost of something wrong flickering across her features before fading into soft, placid contentment.

She wasn’t an adult anymore.

She wasn’t supposed to worry.

She didn’t worry.

Dave sighed, shaking his head with a good-natured chuckle as he glanced toward the café staff. A few nearby patrons had already started whispering, their eyes darting toward the growing puddle beneath Molly’s chair. He caught the eye of a barista, offering an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about this," he said smoothly, his tone warm but firm, the way a responsible caretaker would explain a toddler's accident. "She’s still getting the hang of things."

The barista, a young woman with tired eyes and a sympathetic expression, only nodded. "Don’t worry about it," she murmured, though her gaze flicked toward Molly, who was now squirming in her seat, fascinated by the way the damp fabric clung to her legs.

Dave turned his attention back to her, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Alright, Mols," he said gently, slipping into the comforting role she now expected of him. "Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?"

Molly only giggled, tilting her head up at him with big, unfocused eyes. "Mmmkay, Daddy," she lilted, the title slipping past her lips effortlessly, as if it had always been that way.

Dave’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, but he didn't linger on it. Instead, he rose, moving around the table and helping Molly up. Her legs wobbled slightly, unsteady now that her adult coordination had slipped away.

As she stood, the full extent of her accident became clear. Her jeans were soaked, clinging to her thighs, the damp material darkened almost entirely down to her ankles. She looked down, blinking slowly at the mess, but there was no shame in her expression—only mild curiosity.

She poked a tiny finger against the wet denim. "Squishy," she declared with a giggle.

Dave grinned, ruffling her hair. "Yeah, kiddo. And that’s why we wear proper protection, huh?"

Molly giggled again, her gaze unfocused and dreamy. "Mmhmm!"

Dave led her toward the back of the café, past the staff-only sign. No one stopped them. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, so confident, so sure of his authority over her. Maybe it was the way Molly so clearly wasn’t in charge of herself anymore, her small hand tucked securely into his, her posture loose and trusting.

Inside the staff restroom, a sight that would have mortified Molly just minutes ago now greeted her without a flicker of concern—

An adult-sized changing table.

Dave patted the cushioned surface. "Up you go, kiddo."

Molly obediently reached her arms up, letting him lift her onto the table without a second thought. She kicked her legs idly, her soaked jeans sticking to her skin, a little pout forming on her lips.

"Wan’ dry," she mumbled.

Dave chuckled. "That’s the plan, sweetheart."

With practiced ease, he peeled away her jeans, the damp fabric clinging for a moment before slipping free. He balled them up and set them aside, then made quick work of her sodden panties. Molly didn’t react, other than giggling as the cool air hit her bare skin.

She squirmed as he wiped her down with a warm cloth, but it wasn’t from discomfort—it was the way a toddler would squirm from tickles rather than modesty.

Then, he pulled out the final piece.

A puffy, pastel-colored Pampers—one big enough for her, decorated in soft patterns that made it impossible to mistake for anything grown-up.

Molly’s eyes widened, but not with the resistance she might have once had. No, this time, it was delight.

"Ooooooh!" she cooed, her fingers twitching eagerly.

Dave smirked. "Like it, baby?"

Molly nodded enthusiastically, reaching out to poke at the plastic shell as he unfolded it. "Is crinkly!" she giggled.

He lifted her legs effortlessly, sliding the padding beneath her before securing the tapes snugly at her waist. The thick bulk forced her legs apart slightly, and when he patted the front, she let out a soft, happy hum, wiggling against the plush comfort.

"There we go," Dave murmured, smoothing her shirt down over the top of her new, much more appropriate underwear. "All fresh."

Molly beamed up at him, wiggling her toes as she enthusiastically poked at the front of her new padding, fascinated by the way it crinkled under her touch.

"Dis is way better!" she declared, giggling as she gave the front a few experimental pats.

Dave laughed. "I thought you’d see it that way, princess."

Then, he picked up her jeans, inspecting the soaked fabric with a smirk. "Well, kiddo, looks like you’ll have to go without these for a bit."

Molly didn’t even blink.

If anything, she giggled, swinging her bare legs with delight.

The Molly from before—the one who had argued, who had frowned and questioned—was nowhere to be found.

She was just Mols now. A little girl in nothing but a crinkly diaper and her soft shirt, giggling as she prodded at the thick bulk between her legs.

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe catches you watching p*rn

cw: 18+ MDNI duh, fingering, p*rn mentioned, AFAB reader, ovulation mentioned, “girl” used, lots of dirty talk, he talks u thru it

you’ve been so needy all day and rafe your stupid fucking boyfriend has been gone. you know you shouldn’t be mad really it’s not his fault he has to work and you’re ovulating. not his fault your skin has been burning up all day after he kissed you goodbye, looking as irresistible as usual and smelling so good after his shower.

you’re nearly beside yourself with neediness when the clock strikes 6 and he’s still not home. you huff and writhe on the couch, sick of the pulse between your legs being unattended. you don’t know why it’s so bad this time around, maybe because usually when you’re ovulating rafe is there to take care of you. you don’t know that he’s tracking your cycle, always knowing when you’re the neediest. but he’d forgotten to check the past few days, so caught up with work.

so there you are, in one of his shirts and only your panties, embarrassingly wet from just thinking about your boyfriend. you know your imagination won’t do it though and if you thought too much about him you’d just get angry again. you pull out your phone, idly swiping through twitter, finger hovering over your bookmarks. it would be easy to dip your fingers under the band of your panties and deal with the burning in your core. so easy that you can’t even stop yourself when a video plays on your screen and your fingertips slide past the elastic.

the video reminds you of rafe because of course why else would you watch it. it’s a guy holding his girl’s legs open, slurping obscenely and eating her out like a fiend, unrelenting even after she squirts in his face. the sounds fill the room and you huff a breath as your fingers pick up their pace, entranced by the noises and how you could almost feel rafe doing the same to you. you’re so engrossed that you don’t hear the garage door open, don’t hear your boyfriend walk up to the living room. in your defense you were playing the video loudly.

rafe almost panics at the sound, the insecure and slightly insane part of him ready to knock whoever the fuck is doing that to you out. but then he realizes it’s a video, you’re not even making a sound. he walks as quietly as he can to the source, seeing the top of your head over the couch and he watches your arm move, thrust. he shouldn’t be angry he knows it’s ridiculous to be jealous over your own hand but he is. he’s also getting hard so fast he’s nearly dizzy from how all his blood rushes south. he knows if he sees you he won’t be able to hold back so he makes his presence known.

you’re on the precipice of your orgasm when you hear someone clearing their throat and you instantly lock your phone shut. hand slipping out of your underwear as you prepare to be humiliated. he rounds the couch and plops down next to you, a smirk curling his lips as he watches your pretty eyes widen and your plush thighs close. you’re nearly shaking from arousal but you still hold back because of him.

“no by all means baby keep going.” his arm rests on the back of the couch, leaning into you. he smells just as good if not better than before, his sweat and skin mixing in with his cologne, it’s an addictive scent that you know only you find intoxicating. you’re still so wet and he’s not helping.

“rafe-“ your voice comes out small, almost a whimper. you sound so desperate he feels bad, clearly he hadn’t tended to you properly.

“or how about, you tell me about it?” his arm comes down on your side easily, pulling you onto his lap. you whine at the small friction of his pants against your clothed cunt.

“i needed you all day,” you whine at him, the feeling of your release fleeting is making your eyes sting and you pout at him. rafe’s hands slide against your skin, disregarding the shirt and kneading at your waist. the tips of his fingers graze your waistband and you’re not above begging for him to dip under.

“what were you watching baby?” you whine at his question, realizing he won’t give in until you talk.

“rafe please-“ your hips grind down, his hands keep you still, firm and bruising.

“come on you wanted to be a whore, you can answer.” he slaps your clit, not quite touching you but reminding you that your still his.

“he was eating her out, reminded me of you.” you murmur and he smiles behind you, stocky and long fingers pushing your panties to the side as his hand glided over your messy cunt.

“good girl.” you huffed at his words, trying to grind yourself against his hand. “nearly dripping onto me, you miss me that bad?” you’re so wet rafe thinks you must have been needy for hours. he’s only felt this after marathon sex and even then it’s from his mouth. he can feel your clit throbbing and your folds are puffy from inattention.

“y-yes.” you nod against him, moaning when his fingers slide into you. you’re so sensitive from being worked up all day the cold press of his ring makes you shake against him. it’s a delicious contrast to the heat you feel melting your brain. rafe’s fingers and hands are one of your favorite parts of him, they’re long and thick and somehow always know where to touch you best.

“poor baby, just needed someone to touch this drooling cunt huh? can’t go a day without my dick hmm?” you can’t respond when he starts fingering you, you think you won’t even be heard because your cunt is obscenely loud. squelches fill the room as he thrusts into you, your slick connecting his hand to your cunt like a string. he can already feel a wet patch on his pants under you and he swears under his breath at how wet you are. you’re so tight around his fingers, clenching like you don’t want them to ever leave. he curls them upwards and you shriek, grabbing his arm with both of your hands. “fucking brat, take it.” your grip does nothing to slow him down, hammering at your most sensitive spot and your brain shuts off. the sparks of pleasure fry your nerve endings and your eyes roll back into your head, rafe adds a third finger stretching you open and his thumb swirls around your clit. combined with the drag of his fingertips against your g-spot you’re crumbling within seconds. “there it is, come on baby, you’re doing so well” his gruff voice coaxes you into submission. the pressure building and building until you’re screaming and thrashing in his arms. your orgasm wrecks you and the dam breaks. you’re squirting into the air in front of you and rafe isn’t slowing down, pulling everything he can out of you. you’ve already drenched him what’s the point in holding back now?

a/n: omg heyyyy did yall miss me :> i missed u all ive been super busy and dw i am writing! this just came to me and i had to post it asap and yes im ovulating next question

[urfavfakeblonde]

ₚᵣₒbₗₑₘ ₛₒₗᵥₑᵣ

what if fantasies could really come to life?

warnings: sex fantasies, oral (fem!rec), fingering (fem!rec), heaving makeouts, and prob more let me know what I'm missing <3

"god, please James, feel's so good," I whine, head falling back against the back of the couch. My fingers dance through the short strands of his hair, eyes fluttering down to meet his lustful gaze between my legs. I bite my lip, relishing in the feeling of his skillful tongue against my sopping core. His hands are gentle, yet firm as they keep my thighs open and atop his shoulders. His tongue moves quicker against my folds as legs start to shake violently around his head. "fuck! please, please, pl-"

"Y/n? You okay?" Bucky asks, staring me down. I blink and refocus, stirring the pasta sauce that was tempted to burn. He remains leaned on the counter, setting down his beer. "Yeah sorry," I sigh, leaning over to grab some spices. I open and sprinkle a little into the pot one by one, enjoying the hum of music in the background. It was always easy like this--with Bucky. Silence was never awkward, and often enough words wouldn't need to be spoken to know how one another felt. But this time? This time he definitely wouldn't know what was going on inside my head. I hope. "Do you want me to take over?" He asks, walking to the other side of me to pour the pasta in the boiling water. God, he really is that innocent isn't he? I could think of a few way he could take over but "it's fine, I got it." With a smile on my face. He returns the small smile, something that rarely slipped out. Bucky was closed off, which would make since after everything -- but not so much with me. Before, when we first decided to share an apartment because he needed better decoration skills, and I needed someone to make sure it was organized, he would only force a smile if he had to. But on nights like these, when it was just the two of us after a long day-- his smile felt like it was reserved for me. Maybe that's what started my fantasies in the first place.

He grabs the pasta, pouring it into the boiling water. He moves effortlessly around the kitchen, grabbing a spatula and a strainer. I watch him in awe, moving my spoon in slow circles in the sauce. When he returns to the pot, his hand flex's has he stirs, the sight making me drool, literally. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, clearing my throat. I focus on the sauce, and turn the heat off. I grab a spoon and dip it in before bringing it to my mouth, taking in the flavors. "Is it good?" He asks, glancing over at me. I have to look away, those blue eyes making me weaker. "Yeah, you wanna try?" I dip the spoon in again as to give it to him. He takes it and brings it to his mouth. I groan internally, dirty thoughts clouding my senses. He hums in approval, setting the spoon down in the sink. "Delicious," he says, stirring the pot of pasta. I swallow hard, clenching my thighs together. I mutter a small thanks, grabbing some plates and forks. He pours the sauce in the pasta, glancing over his shoulder as I set down our plates on the island bar. He leans over the counter, placing portions on the plates as I fix up a salad. All of this was in silence, a comfortable one for him, but aching and desperate for me. Dinner was the same. My chewing came to a stop when I looked over at his beautiful form, he wasn't sloppy at all when he ate. He was careful, deliberate, savoring every bite. And so what if my mind started to wander? It's not my fault really, he's such a tease.

He kisses me, lifting me up onto the island, helping my anxious hands unbutton my shirt. "Relax, sweetheart. We got all night," he whispers into my ear, vibranium hand snaking down to rub my covered clit. I whine into his mouth, wrapping my arm around his neck to bring him impossibly closer, the other clenching white knuckles against the cool marble. I kiss him feverishly, grasping at his shirt, hair, everything. He gets my shirt unbuttoned, throwing it on the floor. He helps me shimmy my panties off, hands sliding up my legs, waist-

"What are you thinking about?" Bucky's voice brings me out of my daze, and suddenly I realized that I was just in a button up shirt and panties. I swallow my bite and glance at him. He's finished already, casually sipping a beer. Now this? This was too much. My thighs clench together again, which didn't seem to go unnoticed by the man beside me. "You ask a lot of questions," I say cooly, sipping my drink. "You never ask Sam this many questions," I state. His eyebrow raises as he sets his drink down. "Do you only talk to Dr. Raynor?" He asks, a playful smirk on his face. "No." Maybe I answered that too quickly. Or too harshly. Or maybe both. "Sorry," I say quickly, standing up to gather the plates. I sigh as I set them in the sink, washing out my cup. He comes up behind me and takes a plate. I make room for him, setting the sup in the dishwasher. "I don't like talking to Dr. Raynor," I finally say, picking up a fork. "Why?" As his voice always been this raspy? "Because I don't feel like talking about my problems with her. It's not like she can fix them." I say with a huff, taking his plate to put in the washer. He hums, finishing off the other utensils. "You can talk to me you know," he says, turning off the water. I exhale sharply, "I already told you about...my problems." I groan, going to sit on the couch. "Yeah, that's why I know you've got something else on your mind." He says with a smile, going to sit in the armchair. I roll my eyes, bringing my knees to my chest. His gaze stays locked on my figure, blue eyes searching for mine. I bite my lip, clenching my thighs together. "I don't wanna talk about it." I say quietly, looking out the window. It's silent for a moment, the faint sound of the dishwasher filling the apartment.

"Why don't you show me then?" He says calmly, sipping his beer. My head whips back to him, my feet returning to the floor. "What?" I gasp, giving him a confused look. He smirks at me, setting his beer bottle down on the coffee table. "Just come here," he says with a small smile. I swallow, slowly standing up. I eye him suspiciously as he keeps his eyes on my face. I walk to stand before him, crossing my hands over my chest. "Look, I told you I'm fin-" he pulls my gently down into his lap, his ever piercing gaze still locked onto my eyes. I let out a shaky breath, uncrossing my hands to stabilize myself on his shoulders. God, I should have worn more than just panties, because in this position? Fuck, their soaking. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He says quietly, moving a strand of hair behind my ear. My face flushes, eyes avoiding his gaze. "Why do you do this to me?" I ask, eyes meeting his gaze again. He gives me an innocent look, placing his hands on my waist. "Gonna have to be specific sweetheart," he grins, vibranium hand shifting with a mechanic whirr as his hold tightens. I roll my eyes, biting my lip. God, I want to kiss him so bad. "I don't wanna look like...I'm obsessed or something, you know?" I say quietly, hands firm on his shoulders. He smiles at me, hand reaching up to caress my cheek. "Who would think that?" He asks, taking my hand in his vibranium one to bring it to his lips. He kisses the back of my hand softly, eyes trained on mine. "You know, you've got quite the staring problem," I smile. "So I've been told," he responds, with a playful look in his eyes. I hum in agreement, swallowing hard. I sigh, tongue poking out to wet my lips. Before I can even get a word out, he steals the words right out of my mouth. "Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you," he says, hand trailing up to the back of my neck.

I let out a small gasp, hands reaching around to play with his hair. "You want to kiss me?" I ask quietly, staring into his blue eyes. He smiles, cupping the back of my neck to bring me closer. I hesitate, just for a moment to consider the consequences. As I leaned in all the way, I couldn't really think of any. The kiss started off slow, like the moment was being savored. It felt like a daydream, I was kissing my roommate, James Bucky Barnes and fuck did it feel amazing. And then, like he became impatient and desperate, the kiss turned feverish. Tongue dancing, teeth grazing, swollen lips kind of kissing. I moaned, no, actually whined into the kiss, leaning back as to force him forward, the ever-present bulge pressing right onto my excuse for panties. He gently bites down on my bottom lip, pulling away as it releases back with a soft pop! I let out labored breaths, the need in my stomach growing by the second. "Has it ever occurred, that I may be obsessed with you?" he says, eyes full of lust. My lips tremble, wetness threating to seep through my panties. "Fuck," I whine, reconnecting my lips with his. My fingers find my buttons, shakily unclasping each one. Swiftly, he replaces my fingers with his own, kissing down my jaw. I moan softly, biting my lip. He gets it unbuttoned, slowly, torturously, sliding it down my arms, keeping eye contact all the while. I sigh as it hits the floor, hands finding themselves on his thighs. Bra-less. How could I have forgotten I went bra-less too? It's like I was begging to get fucked.

My nipples harden at the sudden coolness, goosebumps rising on my skin. He leans down, pursing his lips together. He lets out a gentle blow of air over them, a sharp exhale leaving my throat. "Sensitive," he mutters, hands reaching up to cup my breasts. The sensations were different- right one under the cool touch of metal, the left warm from the flesh of human. "Shit, that feels so good James," I groan, eyes meeting where he touched. His soft lips connect with the hardened bud, a gasp leaving my lips. My thighs try to clamp together, however his own made sure I couldn't as my slick seeped through my panties. He lets his tongue swirl around the bud before sucking gently, letting it go with a pop! as he moves to the next one. Impatiently, my hand reaches down to his throbbing bulge, helping him relieve some pressure. He groans, kissing up my chest to my collarbone. My fingers find his jeans, undoing the button. He kisses up my jaw, softly sucking at the skin below my ear. Unzipping his jeans, he stops my hand with his. "Let me look at you first," he says, leaning back. I bite my lip, taking a deep breath. "Want me to take those off?" He asks, fingers slipping under the sides of my panties. I nod, standing up, in between his legs. He leans forward, leaving kisses down my thigh has he slides them off antagonizingly slow. I step out of them, shivering as he places them on the edge of the chair. He sets his hands on my waist, slowly spinning me around before pulling me back down into his lap. Oh.

I nearly moan at the bugle pressing into my ass, the wetness in-between my legs practically soaking his jeans. God why is he still in his clothes? "Hey, why do I have to be naked when you're--shit..." his vibranium hand slithers down my front, ghosting over my aching core. My head falls back against his shoulder, hands gripping the sides of the chair. My eyes flutter shut as he applies pressure to my clit, the cold metal sending jolts through my body. I let out a whine, biting my lip as he rubs slow circles, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. My legs begin to tremble, desperate to close around his hand, (which would fail to stop his movements anyways) but his thighs continued to spread my legs open. His movements only increased in speed, yet somehow still gentle. Moans slipped from my throat, desperate pleas of his name mixed with labored breaths at his movements. It didn't take long for the coil to snap, crying out as my body shakes in his touch. I rested my head on his shoulder as I caught my breath, my firm hold on the chair's arms releasing as the ringing in my ears dissipated. He leans down to capture my lips in a kiss, smiling as my eyes fluttered shut. "You okay sweetheart?" he asks softly, lifting me up into his arms. I nod, keeping my eyes shut. He walks to his bedroom, placing me on the bed. As he starts to stand up, I reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him on top of me.

"Wasn't done with you yet," I whisper, kissing him feverishly. He hums into the kiss, surprised. "Not too tired?" he asks, pulling his shirt off to be discarded onto the floor. "Not for you," I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck.

[tsunodaradio]

they should call you sugar ⛐ 𝐈𝐇𝟔

isack has a soft spot for you. (or: the one where you think isack can't hurt a fly.)

ꔮ starring: isack hadjar x reader. ꔮ word count: 0.9k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. rookies make an appearance. title from tyler, the creator's sweet / i thought you wanted to dance. ꔮ commentary box: people starting to love on isack YUPPP!!! i used to dream of times like this 🙂‍↕️ a quick lil somethin' as part of my soft spot mini-series. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The first time you hear about Isack being this formidable, foul-mouthed figure on the grid, you nearly bust a stitch laughing. 

Isack? Your Isack? Screaming over the radio, cussing out in the open? 

What are these people on? 

In all the time you’ve known him, Isack hasn’t raised his voice within your vicinity. Not once. There are a handful of times where he would have gotten away with it, you think. The wrong order at a restaurant after an hour wait. Or that one time you accidentally spilled coffee on his brand new team kit. 

He’d always been patient, level-headed. It was to the point where you felt like you were dealing with an actual angel. 

So, now— when the other rookies try to warn you about his supposedly colorful way of expressing himself? 

“That is not Isack Hadjar,” you say in between chuckles, the words muffled behind your palm. “You’re all being absurd. Isack is an absolute sweetheart.” 

Gabriel actually snorts out his drink through his nose. As Ollie and Kimi rib him for it, Jack nudges you in the side. 

“How does he treat you, then?” the Alpine rookie asks, a corner of his mouth twitching upward in a light smirk. 

“You know,” you stammer. “As he should. Opening the door for me, carrying my stuff.” 

You don’t like the look the boys share. It’s like you’re on the outside of their inside joke, and Kimi is completely unable to hide his amusement. 

“You should call him ‘sugar’,” the youngest snickers, “because he’s just so sweet to you.”

The four share a laugh. You give them a heatless glare before stalking off somewhere else to the paddock. You’d come to surprise Isack on his first day of free practice sessions, wanting to watch your best friend officially kick off his Formula One 2025 campaign. 

The other rookies had spotted you and made a jab out of it, leaving you confused. Isack was nice to everybody.

Wasn’t he?

It’s a good day on track. Isack comes out as top of the rookies in the first session, and finishes at an even better place by the second session. By the time you’re weaving over to where the Racing Bulls are, you’re mildly surprised you haven’t been found out yet. 

Isack texted in between sessions, asking if you’d watched from home. You held back on responding, wanting to make the surprise good. 

In the end, you’re the one who ends up surprised. 

Because Isack— who is yet to see you— is cussing in both languages as he jokes around with his social media team. “I am telling you,” he’s arguing, laughter edging his tone, “the ‘it’s Britney, bitch!’ TikTok will do numbers! Putain, just let me at it!” 

It’s a bit fascinating. Here’s Isack with the people he sees everyday, acting more larger-than-life than you’ve ever seen him. You falter in your steps, feeling a bit out of your depth. Are you welcome here? 

Before you can even consider leaving, maybe acting like you were never here, Isack’s eyes skip over you. 

He does a double take. And then he comes to a full stop, his jaw going completely slack. 

“Ma moitié!”

The nickname he’d given you some time back— my better half— lands like a punch to the gut. You’re frozen in your place until he’s jogging up to you, his expression caught between shock and excitement. 

“What are you doing here?” 

His voice is softer, now. More reverent. It’s a stark difference to how he had been interacting with the others, and it reminds you of the other rookies’ teasing. 

You swallow. Now is not the time for a crisis, you mentally chide yourself. “Are you kidding?” you say. “I wouldn’t miss this race weekend for the world.” 

Isack is positively beaming. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over your wrist, as if to check if you’re real. When he seems to realize that you are, he actually giggles before tugging you in for a quick hug. 

“I still have to do some more social filming,” he laments. “But I am free after for a— what do you want? A meal? A drive?” 

“Anything, anything,” you say affectionately as you pat the small of Isack’s back. “We’ll figure it out later. Go film, ma moitié.” 

He squeezes you tight before pulling away. His eyes are bright; his smile, a little different from the practiced one he had been donning earlier. You have a suspicion that this smile, this softness, is the real Isack. 

“Okay. Later.” He pauses for a beat, his grin breaking wide across his face. “You can’t just surprise me like this. It’s going to make my heart stop.” 

You laugh. “Wouldn’t want that. Now, shoo!” 

And then— because Kimi had planted the idea in your head— you call out as Isack leaves, “See you later, sugar.” 

Your best friend trips on his shoelaces. 

He throws you a look over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. It looks like there’s a cuss on the tip of his tongue, but he shakes his head and sticks out his tongue instead. It’s as if he’s physically incapable of swearing at you, no matter how small the offense. 

You wave at him as he leaves. People could say what they wanted, but Isack would always be sweet when it came to you. ⛐

[doujindungeon]

Please do more of carlos sainz lactation kink!! Maybe they’ve already had their baby and the readers milk ducts are clogged and the mm baby doesn’t have the force to suck them out, so carlos happily offers his lips to do so.

follow-up to this carlos "milf milk hunter" sainz request 🤱🥛) thank you so much anon for requesting!!! 🥹❤️ it really means a lot 😭🫶 i'm still open for 3 more requests btw heheh 🙆‍♀️💌

There was a bundle of joy in your arms.

Soft snores emitted from a miniature copy of your lips, tiny hands curled into little fists, big brown eyes reminiscent of his father's currently closed in peaceful slumber. After having his fill of milk from you, it was time for your son to finally turn in for the night.

And as you gazed at him lovingly while gingerly setting him down in his crib, by contrast there was a shadow that had been haunting your every step since dinner.

Focused, infatuated, and--most of all--hungry.

This shadow was no stranger, of course. Once your son was properly tucked beneath his blanket, the affectionate look on your face turned exasperated once you turned around, your lips forming into a pout.

"I do hope he doesn't inherit your impatience, Carlos."

You were only met by a roguish grin as two big sturdy hands reached for your waist to begin guiding you out of your son's room.

"While I also hope he'll grow to be a better man than me, I'm comforted knowing he and I both share the same taste in the finer things in life, amor."

The heat of your husband’s murmured breath lingered in your ear while he led you straight to your bedroom. Already, your pillows were rearranged on top of your bed, ready to support your back.

Though Carlos was gentle and patient while having you sit and recline against the cushioned pile he prepared just for you, his hands were anything but when it came to your top.

As to be expected.

After all, you saw the way his eyes immediately zeroed in on your breasts, forgetting his dinner the very moment your son began to nurse from your chest.

The way you sucked in your teeth and winced from the lingering pressure in your sore aching nipples afterwards sealed your fate for the evening.

And now, here you were, face flushed and hot, back arched in ecstatic relief.

Compared to that one particular morning in Melbourne, where your husband was mindful to position himself to your side due to your pregnant belly, Carlos was perched on top of you, happily smothering his face in-between your breasts. While his hands kneaded and massaged the supple skin of your chest, his mouth was relentless with drinking from your nipples, the sounds of his noisy suckling and satisfied groans filling the air.

"Your taste, princessa, my god, your taste."

Dreamy, delirious, dazed--the way his words slurred together in bliss made him sound drunk.

"It makes me want to keep you pregnant from now on."

While he let out a teasing giggle at the thought, you were certain that he was serious, that he would strive to make good on his remark.

Still, as Carlos lifted his head from your breasts, familiar brown eyes gazing at you adoringly while he ground his hips down against yours, making sure you would feel the stiff prod of his erect cock, he pleaded,

"Let's get to work on providing some siblings for our boy, yeah?"

[littelovelunette]

Sevika x reader as Sevika's boss, smut!! but reader finds her so attractive so she's been eyeing Sevika since before. So one day reader intendedly wears fitted low cut top and short skirt and didn't wear any panties to seduce Sevika. She called Sevika to come at the office and Sevika was so shocked at the sight of her boss's body. Also, make sevika being submissive to reader as she respect her so much but her boss is so freakyyy

"Yes, Boss."

Modern AU!Sevika x Boss!Reader

Contains smut, biting, submissive!Sevika, oral, masterbating

You're not dumb, you've seen the way your worker Sevika looks at you. As if she's mentally undressing you, fantasizing how your breasts would feel in her hands and wondering of all the risky places to ruin all three of your holes.

You didn't deny your desires to yourself, you felt the same way. But if you were a betting man, you'd put your money on Sevika NEVER acknowledging she felt that way about you. No matter how Sevika's social life was outside of work, she wasn't the type to put her job at risk by confessing such depraved thoughts to her boss— you.

If anything, it made you like her even more. The way her muscles always flexed under her blazer, you would be licking the ground she walked on had she come to you with that demand.

It had been only two months Sevika started working for your firm, you hadn't hired her personally you usually let the manager handle such tedious tasks. You were a very busy woman but the moment your eyes laid on her... You started clearing your schedule out for even the less impactful meetings just so you could catch a glimpse of Sevika. She was a sight to behold.

One particular day, you couldn't find a top to wear so you wore a shirt that barely held onto cover your cleavage and just before a big meeting, the top button popped.

Thank goodness, you had a tanktop in your car. You put it on under the shirt so it somewhat hid the lacy bra underneath. It was slightly better that way.

That day, Sevika didn't stop eyeing you as if she'd spread you over the table and devour you all the way.

As if she'd bend you over your own desk and give you the most ruthless backshots ever.

However, of course, Sevika had quite the good self control and an even straighter moral compass but if there was something that wasn't straight— it was her sexuality.

You gestured all the other workers to leave after you had said a soft, "Dismissed."

Sevika got up, but you gestured her to stay behind. Sevika, now slightly confused, stared at you as if waiting for you to give her your reason for holding her back but you never did. Instead, you closed the door and clicked the lock in place.

"What do you nee—"

Before Sevika could finish asking her question, your lips went crashing against hers in a bruising manner. Her eyes fluttered shut and she grabbed the table behind herself to keep balance, your tongue swept her bottom lip in a silent ask for entry.

Sevika opened her mouth granting you the opportunity to tongue fuck her mouth. And oh, her mouth was exactly how you expected it to be. You could smell cigarettes on her breath and her mouth was feverishly warm.

"You need me, don't you?" You smirked.

Sevika, flushing slightly now, swallowed the spit in her mouth before giving you a hesitant nod.

"Come on, say it," you urged.

"I need you," Sevika mumbled.

"That's a good girl," you pushed her to sit down.

As she sat down on one of the arm chairs, you bent, your short skirt riding up and exposing your glistening cunt from underneath. Your fingers wrapped around her muscular calves, giving them a good squeeze before moving up to remove her pants followed by her boxers.

There she was.

A happy trail spreading evenly over the mound, her fat clit was swollen and red as if she'd been denying its needs for the longest time. Her folds were wet. Maybe not as much as yours but still wet.

"And you never made a move on me?" You looked up, shaking your head, "Tch."

Sevika blushed darker and had the sudden urge to grab the back of your head and stuff your face in her pussy if it meant shutting your smug comments. But she didn't. She respected you with all that was in her. She didn't want to risk losing her job.

You spread her pussy lips using two fingers before licking her slit, a small kitten lick.

"Oh, come on, tell me what you like," you teased.

Sevika seemed as if she was deep in thought, contemplating what she should say. She didn't want to get too freaky, she didn't want to say something that would repulse you so she chose her words very carefully.

"Biting," Sevika muttered.

"Biting?"

Your smirk darkened. You grazed your teeth against the inner side of her thigh before sinking them in just enough to leave a dominating mark, nothing enough to make her bleed though.

But Sevika wanted it.

You could see it in her eyes.

Sevika's head was thrown back exposing the mid column of her throat, so fucking slutty and so fucking hot. Your pussy clenched around nothing so you trailed a hand down to give it some attention.

Two fingers disappeared inside and you moaned, biting onto Sevika thigh again this time dangerously close to her pussy making her hips raise off the chair for a brief second before she obediently sat her ass back down.

Her body was shuddering from the pain but you could see just how wet she was getting from being treating like a chewtoy.

You let go of the reddened bite mark and moved to lick her clit, taking it in your mouth and giving it a firm kiss. Your tongue circled it before pressing flat against it. Finally, Sevika let out a—

"Hnngh..."

"Yeah, you like that?"

Your voice was a low purr, your tongue working its magic on her pussy. You lapped up all the juices she was spilling on the chair. Tongue slithered easily over her folds and between them before sinking inside her slit and tongue fucking her. You retracted your tongue just to tease it back inside.

Your fingers started working faster in your cunt causing you to moan in her pussy, a vibration making Sevika let out another small yet incredibly slutty—

"Hah," she exhaled.

You were nowhere done with her, in fact you had only started. Sevika was a complete mess although she wasn't exactly the verbal kind, the way her body reacted to your touch spoke volumes she didn't have to.

"So damn responsive," you praised.

"Yes, boss," Sevika whispered, coming undone causing her body to tense up and the veins in her neck rose, her clit twitched.

And that's how you and Sevika became a thing. A very interesting dynamic.

[infinitelibrary]

So I read this last night hoping for a nice little shot of bedtime reading. What I got was a chapter - yes, a SINGLE CHAPTER - that carried me through a whirlwind of emotions. Everything from awe 😮 to spice 🥵 to angst and heartache 😢 to absolute LOVE (*gasp* the L word!!!)❤️ and happy tears 🥹. And again, I repeat: all this in a SINGLE CHAPTER. I think that speaks volumes to your skills as a writer, so let's make that very clear. I read this no less than 3 times last night itself. And then at least twice more this morning, just so I could take notes and digest and be coherent when I came here to reblog and give you my thoughts. (as you can tell, that was pointless bc I'm still rambling.)

Also fair warning - this is LONG, and I don't feel like putting it under a cut but just know there are spoilers galore. Consider yourself warned.

First off...In the Soop Yoongi at the beginning. oh you can bet your ASS I noticed him! I will always notice him! 😍

THANK YOU!! I know it's such a small detail but I am so grateful to you for indulging me and including him in there, down to the loose collared tee and the necklace (all the better to pull him in close for a kiss or two 😉)

The chapter progressed through the makeover montage. Something many of us can only dream of! Makeup, glitz, glam, outfits at our fingertips, getting dolled up and made pretty even if just for a night. A perfect Cinderella moment. And I'm theorizing based on the characterizations you've offered us so far...but I think as magical as it was, I think that was part of what led MC to have those doubts later on. She was dolled up and dressed up and it perhaps as much as it made her feel gorgeous, she also knew this wasn't who she really was...and so that 'imposter' feeling was perhaps brewing under the surface. Not saying it was or has to be...but just what I gleam from it in hindsight.

The car. The CAR. Dear GOD don't even get me started. Do you know how hard it was for me to get through my workday today? Thankfully today was a wfh day and most of my calls were camera off, but the one that was camera on? The whole time - the WHOLE time - the line "Grind. Make me hard before I fuck you right here right now" was running through my head and I had to constantly jolt myself back to reality. When I tell you I am here for slightly jealous possessive Yoongi who feels like he has to remind you who your ass belongs to...I mean I am abso-fucking-lutely HERE 👏FOR 👏IT👏. I swear I read that line last night and my brain glitched. I had to go back and re-read it like 5 times. That entire scene was SO FREAKING HOT. And then ordering her to 'keep it in'?? JFC...🥵

The party took us on another journey - this one with insecurities and angst. I felt my heart clench with Yijeong's "Still?" comment bc I *know* that feeling. You can feel stuck when others around you are moving up and away, meanwhile you're still in the same job. And it can be frustrating bc change is scary, there's security and comfort with staying with what's familiar. For some, it maybe that they love what they do and don't want to move, though I don't think this is the case with MC, as she mentioned she wished she could, but hadn't been able to. Perhaps she does want to move, but there's something holding her back. Or maybe she just hasn't had the opportunity. There could be any number of reasons. But to have someone unintentionally talk down to her for being in the same role especially at a gathering like this when everyone around her is recognized for their extraordinary achievements...of course it would make her feel insecure and inadequate. Yeah, in her everyday office she's just one among many. But here, she's the "everyday"normal" person in a crowd of celebs and again, it's easy for her to think "Yoongi could have his pick of any of these gorgeous women...why me?" And then add Mina to the mix and I just...sigh

The car ride home, the drop off at her apartment. When she turned him down, my heart was literally aching as she went in alone...then the late night (early morning) text. Him showing up at her doorstep with his confession. The simplicity of it, the urgency of it. I literally cried the first time I read it (happy tears for the both of them). Her reaction, and then reciprocation of his words of affection. Oh my GOD it was better than anything I could have imagined.

The way that you took us through each and every one of these stages was truly a work of art. I feel like I keep saying this about every new installment of your work that comes out, but this may just be one of my favorite chapters of any of your works, EVER. Just...WOW. Everything about it was just....

(I know that's not a chef's kiss but it's the closest I could find to a Yoongi chef's kiss gif bc yes he is 'cooking' in this clip)

I'm excited to see what comes next!! They've made it official outside the office. What's going to happen *in* the office? What shenanigans will that conniving Danbi get up to? How are they going to have illicit office quickies now that their hiding spot is no longer hidden from the camera's view? And what will happen when Wonwoo shows up?

(you can bet I am staying tuned to find out 💜)

Terms & Conditions | Chapter Seven

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: YOONGI IN THIS SUIT. Angst - themes of jealousy, insecurity, Mildly angry car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), The L Word <3

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.5k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: March 12, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: We’re back after a longish break! Thank you to @glossdebut for beta reading! Enjoy this chapter, my lovelies~ 💕

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“Hi, baby! I’m back…?” Your voice trails off as you enter Yoongi’s apartment that afternoon and suddenly the living room has been transformed into what can only be described as the scene for the makeover montage in movies (or fanfics?). 

Clothing racks line one wall, laden with everything from elegant cocktail dresses to sleek jumpsuits. A makeup station with a massive lighted mirror has been set up near the window.

It’s chaos, but it’s also… kind of amazing.

“What the—” you mutter to yourself, stepping further into the room.

Yoongi appears from the kitchen, a cup of iced coffee in hand, looking unfazed by the commotion. He’s dressed casually in black joggers and a white t-shirt, collarbones peaking deliciously from the loose neckline. Around his neck, a brown necklace draws your eyes to the smooth column of his throat. What gave him the right?

Anyway, he spots you immediately, face softening.

“Hi,” he says, strolling over to you, stuffing one hand inside his pocket casually. Not him acting all awkward again in front of other people.

You try not to roll your eyes before dragging him towards the nearest room and closing the door behind you.

His face is blank, causing you to whisper-shout, “What is all that?” gesturing wildly at the door that’s shielding the activity outside.

He sips his coffee, completely unbothered. “Told you I’d take care of everything.”

“Yah! You didn’t have to go this far!” you exclaim, but there’s a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you slap his chest.

Yoongi captures your wrist and pulls you closer. “Let me spoil you when I want to, mm?” Soft lips meet your forehead.

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush at his words. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he smiles sweetly, pressing a quick kiss on your lips this time.

You pull him back in with a loop of your finger around his necklace.

“Hmm, jagi,” he hums against your mouth, a soft reprimand. “Later, okay? They’re here for you.”

Despite your initial skepticism, it’s hard not to get swept up in the excitement. The team from Bit & Boot is professional but warm, making small talk about your personal color analysis. You’re apparently a soft spring, or was it deep winter?

Someone lays out a few dresses, and your eyes immediately gravitate toward a beige cocktail dress with sleek lines and subtle embellishments along the neckline.

“You have a good eye,” one of the stylists says, removing the hanger. Maybe you did understand the color thingy they were talking about, because they looked pleased. Thank God, because you didn’t want to look like a chump.

Yoongi lingers nearby, keeping an eye on everything. When your makeup artist offers him a chair as if he doesn’t own the place, he smirks and says, “Nah, I’m just here to admire.”

You’re seated in front of the mirror as they work on you, foundation buffed onto your skin, hair teased and styled until it cascades in soft waves over your shoulders. Yoongi stays close, occasionally glancing at his phone but mostly watching you, a small, private smile playing on his lips.

When you finally step out in the dress, Yoongi’s reaction is everything you could have hoped for. 

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice low.

“Too much?” you ask, smoothing the dress nervously.

“Too much? No.” He steps closer, his hand finding your waist, pulling you just slightly toward him. “You’re perfect.”

His words send warmth blooming in your chest. 

The glam team packs up quickly, with small smiles that they try to hide. You bow as they go, leaving the two of you alone in the now-pristine living room.

As the door clicks shut behind them, Yoongi turns to you, his hands sliding down your hips as his lips brush your ear.

“Jagi, we don’t have to go,” he murmurs, voice deep and dangerous. “You’re so sexy. Let’s just stay here. I’ll just take care of you.”

You laugh softly, placing your hands on his chest. “Yoongi, we can’t skip your hyung’s party.”

“Hmm.” His lips curve into a smirk, and his fingers trace lazy patterns on your sides, giving it a light squeeze.

“Yoongi…”

“Just let me kiss your lips for a bit…”

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head. “Lip gloss.”

“Not those lips…”

“Yoongi!” You shout, scandalized at the suggestion. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the flutter of something low in your belly as he dips his head to your shoulder, chuckling to himself. He’s such a shithead.

“Fine. But know that all I’ll be thinking about tonight is how soon I can get you back here.” He bites your shoulder for good measure.

“Well, you’d better behave then. Don’t make me regret saying yes to this party.”

He steals the faintest kiss on your lips. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He lied.

You’re just in the car and already he is not on his best behavior. 

Not when he almost tears your panties in half as he hooks it to the side and inserts his cock in your warmth without so much as a prep.

Backtracking—this was not supposed to happen. And yet somehow you also knew it would, if you’d be really honest.. See, you were just making light conversation as you entered his Palisade.

“So who’s coming to the party again?”

He unbuttons his blazer, leaning back on his seat. “Bunch of label people, my members. They know I’m bringing you.”

“What did you say?”

“Told them to not act like idiots. And that they better behave.”

You hum, amused at the hint of green in his irises. Maybe it can be greener… 

“And, uh, Yijeong will be there, too?” 

Silence. Except for the soft whirr of the partition rolling up.

“Get over here.”

“Mm?”

“You heard me,” he says, voice a touch darker. 

You shuffle to sit on his lap, the fabric of your dress gathering on your waist. His large warm hand strokes up your thigh towards the plush of your ass, roughly squeezing.

“Grind,” he instructs. “Make me hard before I fuck you right here right now.”

Before you can protest your body is already acting on instincts, rolling your hips as per his instructions. Your panties are getting more damp as you continue to rub yourself against the growing stiffness under his trousers.

You hear the sound of a metal buckle and a zip. He frees his cock (he is not wearing underwear–this fucker!) and before you can do anything else, he hooks your panties to the side.

A wave of bliss courses through you as he nestles his tip against your sticky folds, prodding your clit ever so slightly. 

“Can you take it?” 

“Yeah...” 

He smirks. “Okay then, take it.”

A moan rips from your throat when he slips inside and pistons up into you. Hard, fast, and furious. There’s no build-up, not enough forewarning. But you love the stretch—the painful, delicious sting as he forces himself to fit inside you like he has many times before.

“Say my name,” he grits.

“Baby…”

“Whose dick are you riding right now, huh?”

“Yours, Yoongi—mmph fuck.”

His grip tightens on your hips, the guitar-calloused pads of his fingers pressing into your skin as he fucks up into you deep. The wet, obscene sounds of your slick walls sucking him in fill the Palisade, drowned out only by your soft whimpers and the way Yoongi grunts against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he breathes, lips dragging along the shell of your ear, against your piercing. “You always take me so well.”

You grasp the leather headrest, desperate for something to anchor you. But there’s no finding your balance when he’s feral—when his cock is hitting so goddamn deep it knocks the air from your lungs. Your head falls back, mouth parting with a moan as the pleasure crests higher. Every inch of skin on fire.

Yoongi doesn’t slow. If anything, the sight of you, the feel of you—fucked-out and soooo fuckin’ wet—only makes him wilder. His hands shift lower, gripping the meat of your ass, helping you bounce on his cock.

“You want me jealous, huh?” he growls. “Wan’ test me?”

“No, I—fuck—”

His teeth graze your jaw, a warning. “Liar.”

A particularly sharp thrust has you crying out, your nails clawing at his back. His chuckle is dark, pleased. “Don’t worry, jagi. I’ll fuck the thought of anyone else outta you.”

You’re close. You can feel it—the unbearable heat pooling in your belly, every nerve in your body coiling tight. Yoongi knows it too, the way your pussy starts fluttering around him.

“Shit, ‘m close…”

“Yeah, that’s it. I like it when you lose control…”

“Ahh. Please, Yoongi.”

“Lemme feel it, baby,” he coaxes, voice rough, strained. “Let me feel you cum for me.”

That’s all it takes. Your release crashes over you, sharp and white-hot, your body trembling as your orgasm rips through you. Yoongi groans, feeling you squeeze him tight tight tight, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck, fuck—” His grip bruises as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside, filling you up with every last drop. 

For a moment, all you can hear is the ragged sound of your breaths, the faint hum of the engine beneath you, which you just now realize is already parked. 

Yoongi’s hands smooth over your thighs, as you both come down. Then, with a tired but no less shit-eating grin, he pulls out and pings your panties back into place, pressing his thumb at the seam, before he says: 

“Keep it in for me, jagi.”

You should be scandalized. You can feel his viscous load already dripping from you, but you clench. You hold it in as best as you can. Because you’ll agree to anything when he’s like this.

You shudder, pulse still racing as he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. It’s gentle—so at odds with what just happened.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, still floating.

He smirks, lazy and satisfied. “My pretty jagi.”

As you rest your forehead against his, still dazed, still blissed-out, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and murmurs, “Now, let’s go to this fucking party before I change my mind.”

The party is already buzzing when you arrive, and Yoongi’s hand finds the small of your back, grounding you as he guides you through the crowd. His friends are scattered across the room, a mix of banter and laughter filling the air. 

You’re honestly a little self-conscious after your little car tryst. Is your dress too wrinkled? Is your make-up a wreck? Do you smell like cum?

“Come on,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. “Let’s go say hi.”

Jimin is the first to turn to you with a playful grin, “So, you’re the one Yoongi-hyung’s been hiding from us, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, his expression equal parts curious and amused. 

Jungkook grins, leaning in for a casual hug. “Hello, Y/N.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but a small, almost shy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he introduces you to the rest of the members. Everybody seems friendly, acknowledging you for being Yoongi’s plus one. For the most part, it’s Jungkook who keeps close, chatting with you about Chae and how he’s bummed she couldn’t make it tonight. Cute.

At some point in the night, Yoongi gets whisked away into a circle of conversation on the far side of the room. You hang back, still close but giving him enough space to enjoy his time outside of—let’s be real—babysitting you.

You slip toward the bar, ordering a drink, needing something to do with your hands while you surreptitiously take everything in.

Is that Hwasa? Oh my God, that’s Irene of Red Velvet.

The weight of where you are settles all at once. You knew you’d be surrounded by idols tonight, but knowing and experiencing are two very different things. These are people who command stages, who are revered and respected and admired by millions. And then… there’s you. A glorified office worker who stumbled into this world by accident.

You inhale, shake it off, sip your drink.

But just as you think you’re in the clear, your full government name rings out over the music, a curious voice cutting through the din.

“I heard you were gonna be here.”

You turn, and there he is.

“Jang Yijeong. Long time no see.”

He leans against the bar, the corners of his lips curling in amusement. “Indeed.”

The weight of history sits between you. It’s not bad blood, not really, but there’s something about seeing someone from your past in a space that so obviously belongs to your present that feels a little jarring.

Especially because you suddenly meet said present’s eyes from across the room and the motherfucker mouths, keep it in… and you squirm in your seat as a flush of fluid threatens to trickle down your thighs.

“So, Yoongi-yah, huh?” Yijeong tilts his head, studying you and maybe your odd facial expression right now. “Small world.”

“Yeah.” You shift, inhaling sharply. “So how have you been?”

“Really good. Worked on Yoongi’s last album and tour before his service. Now I’m going back and forth between here and the US, trying to do my own thing.”

“Wow.” You blink, forcing a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

His success doesn’t surprise you. He’s always been talented, always had that drive. But hearing it out loud, seeing how effortlessly he fits into this world—it stirs something unpleasant in your chest.

“How about you?” he asks.

You take another sip of your drink, stalling. “Just boring stuff. I work in the Yongsan municipal office.”

“Oh, you’re still there?” His brows lift, his voice light, but something about the phrasing makes your stomach twist.

Still.

Like you should have moved on by now. Like you’ve been standing in place while the rest of the world surged forward.

You force a small laugh, trying not to let it show. “Yeah, still there.”

Yijeong hums, nodding slowly. “Good thing you didn’t leave.” He gestures toward the other side of the room where Yoongi is now laughing at something someone said, looking so effortlessly cool. “Or else you wouldn’t have met Yoongi.”

And honestly, what do you say to that?

Because he’s right. If you had taken any of the other job offers, if you had made even the smallest change to your path, you wouldn’t be here.

But the way he says it makes it sound like Yoongi is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Like meeting him was some stroke of dumb luck, the one extraordinary thing in an otherwise unimpressive life.

Like Yoongi is a prize you won rather than a person who chose you.

You swallow, looking down at your drink. The ice clinks against the glass, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts forming in your head. Is that what people see when they look at you? A nobody who somehow landed Min Yoongi?

Your fingers tighten around the glass. And suddenly, the room doesn’t feel so warm anymore.

As you make your way back toward Yoongi, a voice stops you.

“You must be the famous Y/N.”

You turn, surprised to see a woman smiling at you, her glossy lips curled into something amused but warm. She’s effortlessly chic, her black dress draped elegantly over her frame.

“Oh,” you say, blinking as recognition sets in. His Mina-noona. You’ve heard Yoongi mention her before—a longtime friend, someone he respects. 

“I’m Mina,” she says, offering her hand. You shake it, feeling slightly scrutinized under her gaze—but not in a malicious way. More like she’s curious, trying to piece together the puzzle that is you.

“Yoongi talks about you,” she adds, eyes twinkling.

Your brows lift slightly. “He does?”

Mina hums, taking a sip of her drink. “Not much, but enough. He’s… different these days.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she muses. “Softer, maybe. More invested.”

Your stomach does a little flip, but before you can fully process it, Mina gives you a knowing look. “You do know what you’re getting into, right?”

The flip turns into a twist. “What do you mean?”

Mina chuckles, shaking her head. “Nothing bad,” she reassures you, waving a hand. “Just… Yoongi’s always been a certain way. Keeps people at arm’s length. Not the type to—” She pauses, then shrugs. “Well. Not the type to bring someone to a party like this.”

You try to keep your expression neutral, but the words settle uncomfortably in your chest. Is she trying to insinuate that Yoongi tends to go for just casual, a typical fuckboi even?

“You must be special,” she adds, smiling. It’s meant to be kind, but it only stirs something uneasy inside you.

You force a small laugh. “I’d like to think so.”

Mina gives your arm a gentle squeeze before stepping back. “It was nice to finally meet you,” she says genuinely. “Enjoy tonight.”

She disappears into the crowd before you can respond, leaving you standing there, your mind spinning.

When you glance back, Yoongi is already making his way toward you, casually grabbing a quiche from a passing waiter and popping it into his mouth.

“You alright, jagi?” Yoongi’s voice is gentle, cutting through the noise of the party like a thread pulling you back to him. 

You nod, pasting on a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But you’re not. Not really.

Because the moment Yijeong walked away, the thoughts started spiraling. And after that conversation with Mina, it’s like a dull ache has settled into your chest, impossible to shake.

You think back to the office girls months ago, how they teased you when Yoongi first started working in your department. The Blessed One, they had called you. The lucky girl who got to work closely with Min Yoongi. It was all in good fun, lighthearted banter at the time, but now, the words twist in your head.

Do you not deserve someone like him?

Do you not deserve him?

You shouldn’t care what anyone else thinks. You know that. Yoongi is here, with you, choosing you. That should be enough.

And yet, the doubt lingers, wrapping around your confidence like vines, tightening.

A squeeze on your waist brings you back. You blink, meeting Yoongi’s eyes. He’s studying you carefully, his gaze flickering over your face like he can see every thought running through your head.

“You sure?” he murmurs.

You force yourself to nod, offering another small smile as you swipe the crumbs on the corner of his mouth with your knuckle. “Yeah… just a little overwhelmed.”

“Let’s get out of here soon, okay?”

You nod again, pressing into his side just slightly, grateful for the comfort he gives so effortlessly. But the thoughts don’t go away.

And you’re starting to wonder if they ever will.

The drive home is quiet, but Yoongi’s hand wraps around yours, thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles. The silence feels heavy, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, but you’re still sifting through the evening’s interactions, trying to make sense of your emotions.

Finally, Yoongi speaks, his voice low. “Jagi-ya. I don’t know what happened, but you can talk to me,” he says, his tone soft but firm. His hand tightens around yours. “Was it something Yijeong or Mina said?”

You swallow, staring out the window as the streetlights blur past. “It’s not just them, Yoongi,” you murmur, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s… I don’t know. Tonight, it just hit me how different our worlds are. I mean, maybe I don’t belong here, in all of this. You deserve someone who just… fits better.”

Yoongi stares, confusion etched in his features.

“It’s just, people look at you, and it’s like they’re trying to see if I measure up. I can feel it, you know?”

He lets out a slow breath, his gaze steady and intent. “That’s… don’t even worry about that, jagi. I’m here, because I want to be with you.” 

A rush of gratitude warms you, but doubt still clings, threading through your insecurities.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you murmur, squeezing his hand. “Maybe I just need some time to rest.”

As the driver pulls up outside your apartment, he studies you, his brow knitting in concern. “Want me to come up?” His question is soft, unassuming, yet full of care. “I can make you the sriracha grilled cheese sandwich you really liked last time.”

You reach over, cupping his cheek. “Not tonight,” you say, brushing your thumb gently over that little freckle below his eye. “I think I just need a little time. Alone.”

He sighs, long and labored as he presses your hand against his face a little longer before letting it drop. “I don't love this.” He says, his face falling slightly, but he nods in understanding. “But alright,” he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips staying just long enough to make your heart ache.

“Yoongi…”

“Not that. You don’t call me that anymore…”

Realization hits you. “Baby…”

He nods, eyes moist, and the little wobble of his lips almost makes you want to fold. “Good night, jagi.”

With a final, lingering look, you step out of the car, giving him a small wave as you close the door behind you. The weight of your decision is immediate, filling the quiet of your apartment with the complex feelings from the night. 

As you exhale, you realize you’re left to sort through this alone, the silence amplifying the doubts Yoongi’s reassurance can’t quite erase.

It's 4:12 a.m.

You can’t sleep. How can you? 

You haven’t slept in this bed for days. The scent of jasmine is unfamiliar, when you’ve grown accustomed to sandalwood.

Your memory pillow already forgot the slope of your head.

You flip to your other side, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through your curtains. Just as you’re about to force your eyes shut, your phone vibrates against your nightstand, the screen lighting up the darkened room.

You check the notification and it's him. Of course it is.

Yoongi: you up?

Any other night, you’d laugh at how much it sounds like a booty call. And maybe it would’ve been. But tonight, it’s different.

You: Cant sleep Yoongi: me too

You stare at your screen, thumbs hovering as you figure out what to say next. But another message is already coming through. 

Yoongi: im outside Yoongi: your apt

Socked feet shuffle to the front door. Every step feels heavy, like your body is torn between running to him and running away.

You swing it open to find Yoongi, looking like a kicked puppy. Your heart cracks.

The sight of him like this—eyes tired, lips pressed into a tight line, hair tousled like he’d been running his fingers through it all night—has you clutching the edge of the doorframe just to keep yourself upright.

You let him inside.

“What are you doing here?” you finally ask, voice quieter than you intended.

Yoongi exhales sharply, his hands pushing through his hair before settling at his sides. 

“I’m here, because…” he starts, then stops, shaking his head like he doesn’t know how to finish the thought. His jaw clenches. His fingers twitch.

You can’t breathe.

And then he says, “I love you.”

The words land like a freefall. No hesitation. No takebacks. Just truth.

“Yoongi…” your voice is barely above a whisper.

“I need you to hear it. Really hear it.” He takes a step closer, trembling hands cupping your cheeks. “I love you,” he repeats, softer this time, like he’s willing you to believe it. “I don’t care how complicated this gets. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I told you before, I’m all-in.”

Your heart is pounding, a chaotic rhythm against your ribs.

Because deep down, you already knew.

You knew in the way he looked at you across the office when he thought no one else was watching. You knew in the way he pulled you closer in his sleep, in the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

But hearing him admit it to it like this—like he was physically incapable of handling a possibility where you didn’t feel the same way, where you would’ve given this up, it’s perhaps the most honest thing you’ve ever heard.

And now, the question isn’t whether he loves you.

It’s whether you’re ready to believe that you deserve to be loved like this. If you deserve to be loved by Min Yoongi…

Yoongi barely has time to register it before your hands are in his hair, yanking him down, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s messy, desperate, everything.

He groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist, fingers digging into the thin fabric of your sleep shirt.

You press into him, chest to chest, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. His mouth moves against yours with urgency, his tongue sweeping past your lips, stealing whatever breath you had left.

You don’t stop kissing him. You can’t. Not even as he walks you backwards toward your bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind him, his body pressing you against it, trapping you between the cool wood and the solid heat of him.

His hands roam, slipping under your sleep shirt, fingers skimming over your tits, tracing the curve of your spine. Your head tilts back as he trails kisses down your jaw, your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver.

“Jagiya,” he mumbles, voice thick, rasping against your skin.

You don’t have any other words right now—not when he’s sucking a wet bruise into your collarbone, not when his fingers slide lower, dancing along the lace of your panties.

So you just say the only thing that matters. “I love you, too.”

A low curse falls from his lips, and then he’s moving you to the bed, dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you, eyes dark, hungry.

“Say it again.”

His hands slip beneath your shirt, dragging it up. His lips follow, open-mouthed kisses searing a path up your stomach, taking a nipple between his teeth.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice shaky, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him back up to you.

“I love you, jagi,” Yoongi crashes his mouth to yours again, swallowing your whimpers as his hands slide down—hooking into your panties—slowly, teasingly, pulling them down. “Let me show you what I mean...”

A/N: Whew! ARe wE GoOD??? The L bomb has been dropped and I am soooo happy because these two deserve the world.

Let me know what you think in the comments. Or do reblog if you are so inclined. <3

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! xo

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do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing without my express permission to do so.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part fourteen

Now, listen. Is it really a honeypiehotchner fic if something wildly dramatic doesn't happen around this time in the story? Buckle up!

Warnings: angst, I don't want to spoil but for the sake of triggers there is a car wreck in this one (everyone is fine!!!), and a slightly sensual moment (you'll see hehe), also probably some incorrect info about cars...just go with it

It’s not until Hotch exits off the interstate onto the small four-lane highway to avoid traffic that you speak again. It’s been over an hour.

“Did Rossi tell you?” 

It’s not the question Hotch expects, but he jumps to his friend’s defense all the same. “No, no he didn’t.”

You don’t say anything.

When you do, it’s what he expects. That same white hot anger you’ve always had around him.

“I don’t even know if I want to know how you found out,” you begin, voice so calm that if it weren’t for how well he knows you, he wouldn’t necessarily think you’re so beyond pissed off with him. “I’m assuming it’s just going to piss me the fuck off.”

Probably, he thinks. Out loud, he says, “I read your file.”

“You read everyone’s file. I got that part. What I’m still trying to wrap my head around is the fact that I had most of it sealed — for good fucking reason, and with the permission of the goddamn Section Chief — and yet you went behind my back, behind Strauss’s back, and dug your nose around where it doesn’t fucking belong.”

“I’m—”

“If you say you’re sorry, Aaron, I’m actually going to punch you in the face.”

He stays quiet. He deserved that one. 

He always thought that you’d never call him by his first name, probably out of spite because he uses yours perhaps too often. He never imagined it would be in this way, said with such distaste each time that it makes him feel cold inside.

You finally move, then, your hand reaching up to rub your forehead. “I just don’t understand.”

And Hotch, helpless and desperate, lets his emotions get the better of him again. “What was I supposed to do? You wouldn’t tell me the truth.”

“Because you hadn’t fucking earned it!” you shout. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t trust you with that kind of information about me — and it seems like I was fucking right to not tell you. Because you just—” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he argues. Around and around the cycle goes. The arguing will never stop between the two of you, will it? “Because this is serious.”

“You think I don’t know that?” you almost laugh. “My whole life it’s been this serious so don’t act like I don’t know what I’m doing. I can handle myself and I can handle this— whatever this is.”

“It won’t kill you to let someone help—”

“Maybe not someone who has actually earned my trust.”

That stings, though he has no right to be hurt by it. He nods once and keeps his mouth shut.

Until he can’t. “I know you’re upset with me and you have every right to be,” he pauses to hold up his hand, stopping you when you open your mouth to say something else. “But I didn’t know what else to do. It was clear after Richard first recognized you that it caused something to resurface— you couldn’t breathe. I knew then that your safety and well-being was at risk and yes, I will admit, I made a mistake going behind your back to read what you had sealed, but—”

“Hotch, stop,” you interrupt.

He sighs. He’ll never be able to get this all off of his chest if you two can’t stop interrupting one another. “Can I please just finish what I was—”

“No, seriously,” you say, voice deadly serious. “How long has that car been behind us?”

Hotch doesn’t move his head a single inch as he glances up in the rearview mirror. It’s the same car that was there when he exited the interstate. “A few miles. Why?”

“I don’t know,” you chew on your bottom lip, keeping yourself facing forward. “Just a gut feeling.”

You almost think he’s going to have some snide remark about your gut feeling again, but he doesn’t.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“Take a right— Don’t use your blinker,” you keep your voice low, as if the person in the car behind you can hear.

Hotch does as you ask, taking a sharp right onto a two-lane highway. The car behind you jerks as the driver takes the same turn at the last second, nearly putting the back tires in the ditch. You watch with narrowed eyes as they speed up, getting so close to your back bumper that Hotch can barely see them in the rearview.

“This thing has lights and sirens, right?” you ask, just curious and thinking ahead. 

Hotch nods. “I can see him.”

“It’s a man?”

“I think,” Hotch says, glancing in the rearview again. “White male, maybe mid-40s. Hard to tell. He’s wearing sunglasses and a hat.”

“Do we need to call someone?”

“No,” he says. “Not yet.”

You both sit in silence as you analyze the car. It’s beat to hell, an older model of something you can’t place. But it was once blue, that you can kind of tell in between all of the rust and peeling. It has to be something from the early 90s.

Hotch drives exactly the speed limit, testing how the driver reacts. Up ahead, the solid yellow lines turn dotted. Hotch slows, hoping it’ll persuade the driver into passing, and you two can move on with your earlier conversation.

But it does the opposite.

Instead, the car stays what has to be mere centimeters away from the back bumper. No one else is on the road, so the man’s window to pass is wide open, yet he doesn’t take it.

“We can’t pull him over for tailgating,” you say.

“No, but if he hits us, we can,” Hotch replies, irritation starting to settle into his jaw.

“Don’t cause a wreck on purpose.”

“I’m not trying to do it on purpose.”

You both huff and glare into your respective side mirrors.

The car speeds up.

“What the fuck,” you hiss.

Hotch speeds up because he’s forced to, because believe it or not he doesn’t want to get in a wreck today, but the car stays right on your ass. 

“What the hell is his problem?” you curse under your breath.

“I don’t know,” Hotch answers absentmindedly, now fully glaring at the guy in the rearview. “But I’ve had enough.”

Hotch reaches up and flicks the lights and sirens on. You both expect the guy to immediately slam on his brakes and swerve to speed around you, panicking at the realization that he’s tailgating a government vehicle, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he slows down with you, and pulls into the oncoming lane, just to ride right next to you.

You can make out his face through the tinted windows, despite his sunglasses. You don’t recognize him, though, and neither does Hotch.

His familiarity quickly doesn’t matter at all when he rolls his window down and points a pistol in your direction.

“Hotch!” you shout, ducking down on instinct. You know the BAU vehicles have bulletproof glass, but you don’t exactly want to test the theory.

Hotch slams on the brakes, letting the other car fly ahead of you just as two shots ring out, missing you thanks to Hotch’s quick thinking.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” you ask, not at all expecting an answer as you unclip your holster just in case you need to get your gun out quickly.

Hotch stays silent amidst your panicked statements. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out where to go from here. He’s calm under pressure just like he always is.

You notice the predicament at the same time he does. There’s nothing but thick woods on either side of this road. You’re not exactly close to any sort of civilization for anyone to hear these shots and think something is wrong.

You keep your eyes glued to the car up ahead, watching in horror as it slows to a stop, and then the fucking back up lights switch on.

“Hotch,” you warn.

“Yeah, I see him,” Hotch mutters, turning the sirens off. You hadn’t even realized they were still wailing. He leaves the lights on. “Are you buckled?”

“What?”

Hotch glances over to check and says, “Good.”

“Hotch, what the fuck are you—”

He revs the engine and flies forward, your seat belt locking and pinning you in place, rapidly approaching the car as it reverses toward you. You brace yourself for the impact, mentally cursing Hotch for how stupid this is, but the car in front swerves at the last second.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” you shout as you whiz past the car.

Hotch glances in the mirrors, waiting for the man’s next move. To no one’s surprise, he puts the car in drive and races after you.

“Do you have a better idea?” Hotch snaps, going well over the speed limit now, but the car behind you is rapidly gaining speed.

“Yes, I do,” you deadpan. “Fucking— Put it in cruise control and move your seat back as far as it’ll go.”

“What?”

“Just do it,” you unbuckle, taking your gun out of its holster and sticking it barrel down into the cup holder. That’ll have to do, it’ll just get in the way on your hip.

Hotch does as you ask, setting the cruise control and pushing his seat all the way back.

Without giving either of you time to say a damn word about it, you crawl over the console and clamber into Hotch’s lap, moving the steering wheel up as you go to make more room. 

Hotch tenses behind you, but says nothing, only widening his legs underneath you to offer as much space as possible. You get your feet on the pedals as best you can and flick the cruise control off, speeding up to what has to be an impossible speed for this car to do. You’re nearing 90 miles an hour, but it seems to do fine.

Your breath hitches when you feel Hotch’s arms slide around your waist.

He must’ve heard it because, quietly, he says, “You’re not wearing a seatbelt.”

You roll your eyes. That’s the least of your worries right now, and frankly, a lousy excuse.

“Can you see his tag?” you ask, watching the car inch closer and closer. “Should we call Garcia? Someone?”

“There’s no service,” Hotch replies.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, shifting in his lap, and—

For fuck’s sake. There’s no way.

You keep your realization to yourself, figuring Hotch is probably well aware of just how hard he is underneath you. He’s only human, you suppose, and you are pressed tightly against him, shifting in his lap as you keep an eye on the car behind you.

It’s a little bit of an ego kick, you’ll admit. You’ll use this as ammo later — if the two of you make it out of this.

The car speeds around you, coming to ride side-by-side again. Except this time before he can raise his gun, you swerve, grazing his car, attempting to push him off the road.

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” Hotch asks, almost involuntarily.

“Shut up,” you say through a smirk. “Not important.”

The man has the same idea, pushing back against you, but your SUV is bigger than his, so it doesn’t take much to cut him off, forcing him to stop. 

The second you have him pinned in the ditch, though, he reverses and swerves around you, trying to get away.

“Absolutely the fuck not.” You flick the sirens back on, fully prepared to pull this guy over or at the very least alert other law enforcement the second you get into the next town.

Hotch’s arms tighten around your waist slightly, his erection still prominent underneath you. You’ll unpack later why the thrill of this has you unconsciously wanting to rock your hips against him. 

For the record, you don’t give in to the urges. You have some self restraint.

The man is clearly trying to get away from you now, though, speeding like crazy without even thinking about slowing down. But you’re not letting him get away that easily, not after he pulled a gun on you.

Hotch digs his phone out, keeping one arm secure around your waist while his free hand dials Garcia. 

“Your oracle of all things know—”

“Not now Garcia,” you say. “Can’t explain right now— I need you to run a tag for me.”

“Shoot.”

Hotch reads off the tag as you get close enough to the car, both of you waiting in silence — aside from the wailing sirens — as Garcia runs the tag.

“It was reported stolen three weeks ago, it’s— Wait, that’s— That doesn’t make any sense—” Garcia cuts herself off, then gasps. “It’s Carly Henderson’s car.”

“That’s—” You know the name. Why?

“She was murdered by the last unsub,” Hotch answers.

“Right she was,” Garcia replies sadly. “I’ve triangulated your location and I’m notifying the closest police department.”

“Thanks Garcia,” Hotch says.

“Guys,” she hesitates. “What’s going on?”

“We don’t know,” you answer. “But it’s—” The line beeps as the call drops.

“Lost service,” Hotch explains with a curse. “What’s your plan?”

“Tailgate this guy until I can send him into a ditch for good,” you reply simply. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” You press harder on the gas.

Hotch wraps his other arm back around your waist, keeping you secure against him. You let yourself lean back, relaxing as best you can in this kind of situation.

All you can do right now is follow this guy until he—

“Shit!” You notice his brake lights too late, though with how fast you’re going, there isn’t much room for this kind of error. 

A head-on collision is the worst case scenario at the speed you’re going and where you’re sitting in Aaron’s lap, and your instincts know that, so you swerve as soon as you can, but you don’t slam on the brakes. You clip the edge of his car, but it’s enough. It’s enough to send your vehicle rolling into the woods. 

All you can register are the wailing of the sirens, the tightness of Aaron’s grip around your waist, pulling you back toward him and away from the airbags as they release, the force of them stinging your skin but keeping you from busting your head open on the wheel or the windshield. You don’t know how many times the car rolls, just that it feels like you’re falling and falling and falling until you’re not. 

By some miracle, it lands upright, so it’s easy for Aaron to unlock and kick open the door. You’re frozen against him, leaving him no choice but to exit the car with you in his arms.

The second your feet hit the grass, though, you run. You can’t explain why. You aren’t even trying to, but you do, sprinting toward the road, looking for the other car, but it’s long gone, barely a speck on the horizon.

Sirens scream in the distance — or are those still coming from your SUV? You can’t tell. Maybe it’s the ringing in your ears.

Hotch comes up the grassy incline, his phone pressed to his ear as he speaks to…to whoever he’s calling. Garcia, maybe?

“Yes, we need an ambulance,” Hotch says, his eyes scanning your face, concern coming in waves. “I think I’m alright, it’s my partner—”

Your knees buckle on their own, but Hotch is there, his arm reaching out to steady you.

In the haze of it all, you remember you’re mad at him. You’re supposed to be pissed at him. And you are. But you can’t stand up. Why can’t you stand up?

You shove his chest, but it’s the weakest attempt ever to get him away, and he doesn’t budge, ever a steel wall of muscle.

“Alright, thank you,” Hotch says into the phone. “I think I can hear them now.”

Hear what?

Your eyes blink slowly, pain starting to settle in random places. Your arms, your head, your feet. You look down at your arms and find them streaked with red. You don’t remember any windows breaking, but you hardly remember the car rolling as far as it did.

“You’re okay,” Hotch says, voice soft against the ringing in your ears. He holds your arms gently, not caring about your blood staining his fingers. “You’re in shock.”

You shake your head, finally letting yourself look at the car. It’s totaled, absolutely, the windshield shattered and other windows cracked. The driver’s side door is bent, but not much. The passenger side is crushed to hell where the car hit the tree. If you had been in the passenger seat still, you’d be—

The ambulance sirens grow louder as they come closer, skidding to a stop near you. The paramedics jump out and you faintly hear Hotch shouting out to them, explaining something, something about she’s in shock and she might be concussed.

“Ma’am,” the medic tries to get your attention. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

“Kinda…?” you blink slowly, wondering why it’s suddenly getting so dark outside, until you realize it has nothing to do with the weather. Your hand grips Hotch’s forearm tightly. “Hotch, I— I can’t see.”

“Okay, you’re okay,” Hotch shushes you, gathering you back into his arms and carrying you across the grass. “Stay awake, keep squeezing my arm.”

You do, because you can’t stop, the anxiety keeps you from letting go. You don’t know what’s worse, blacking out completely or only halfway like this. You’re awake and fully aware as you’re laid down onto the gurney in the back of the ambulance. You’re aware of the oxygen mask coming to rest over your nose, realizing only after the medic tells you to try to breathe normally that you hadn’t been breathing at all.

“She has panic attacks,” you hear Hotch say, and then he squeezes your hand once. “Are you still awake?”

You nod, unaware of if your eyes are open or closed at this point because it’s all still so dark, but you squeeze Hotch’s hand for dear life all the same.

“Just keep breathing,” Hotch says. 

You hear him rattle off your allergies and you distantly think he’s unbelievable for remembering and knowing them by heart.

“You’re okay,” he says again. “Just stay awake and keep breathing.”

[sdmnpact]

If you're willing to write for George Clarke again, I'd love a story where George is your ex and you come to him, because you're desperate to solve a problem, sayin' I didn't know who else to turn to.

Problem Solver.

George Clarke x Reader ff

Masterlist

~~~

What should I do? I don't know. Maybe I should do it?

I have just gotten such an amazing career opportunity. It's my dream job and I would love to take it but it's in another country. It would be easy to leave my life and just move away if I didn't have so many ties in the uk.

I've lived here my entire life, my whole family is here, I have such amazing friends. The job I have now it second best to the one I was offered. I am living the life here, but it could potentially be better. Maybe I'll have different and great experiences there, maybe I'll fall in love again.

I just don't know what to do. Can I uproot my entire life into a suitcase and move to a whole different country? I need help. I don't want to tell anyone because I don't want them to be upset or be biased about the decision. Maybe I need to ask someone who isn't biased anymore. Someone who was never afraid to tell me what his choice was without hesitation. He was always quick to make decisions when we were together. That's partially why we split.

I couldn't handle him deciding things on a moments notice. So, who to better to ask than my ex, George Clarke.

~~~

I arrived at the familiar flat. He was roommates with Chris MD and Arthur Hill, two people I adore and still try to hang out with regularly. Its only been four months and its not like we had a bad breakup. Its not like we hated eachother. Some people say we still had feelings for eachother but I dont know about that.

I stood on his doorstep, my hand ready hit the buzzer when the door opened. "Oh! Hey Y/n! What brings you here?" Arthur asked holding a bag of rubbish. He always made sure to maintain the flat clean and we bonded over it alot.

"Just here to see George." I said with an awkward smile. His eyebrows furrowed like a puppy confused by something. "Oh are you guys getting back together!?" He said, his expression showing how happy the thought made him.

"No... I just needed his help with something." I said awkwardly again. For some reason this topic made me uncomfortable. I was never weird with Arthur but coming here like this made me feel strange. "Oh... okay, well George is in the kitchen, come in." He smiled faintly as he held the door open, letting me in while shutting it behind him.

I slowly walked towards the kitchen hearing the sound of music playing quieting. George always loved to listen to music while he cooked. I always loved that quirk about him.

"Arthur? Back already? Okay well, can you pass me an onion?" He said his attention not leaving the vegetables he was cutting. I walked over towards the pantry and pulled one out of the basket, handing it to him.

"Thanks- Y/n?" He began, shocked by my presence as he turned to face me. "Don't take this the wrong way but what are you doing here?" He asked moving towards me and reaching over to turn down the stove. The sudden motion making his cologne hit me. His scent flooding my mind with memories of us together.

"I need your help with something. I would have called but I think I needed to be here to ask you something like. I didnt know who else to turn to." I began. His expression changed to confusion. I grabbed his hand and led him to the couch.

"What are your thoughts on me getting a new job?" I said as we sat down.

"Oh- well yeah, I say go for it. But- but there's more isn't there. You wouldn't just come to me to ask for my opinion on a job change. What's the actual problem?" He asked getting comfortable.

"The job is in Canada. I would have to move there right away and leave everything behind. Leave my family, my friends, my life here in the uk. I would have to basically start over, alone." I ended releasing a big sigh.

"Woah, okay now that's a lot." He breathed out. He sat up and put himself in a thinking position. I was waiting for an answer within a couple seconds but he seemed to be thinking about this quite hard.

"Well?"

He turned to me and grabbed my hands making my curiosity rise. "I don't think you should leave." He said, his piercing eyes staring into mine. He seemed quite serious about this decision. It was strange seeing him like this. "Why?" I went into further details about the job offer. He already knew what I did but this job would be bigger pay and have better opportunities for my future. I mean, I myself still don't know my choice but to not even deeply consider this would be foolish.

"Well, you can't just leave everything behind!" He said with emotion sounding upset. "I know, but this would open so many doors-"

"This is just a job. You can find another job, a job that is here! You're just going to drop your friends and family over some extra money? How are you going to live in another country by yourself? What if something happened to you? No one would be there for you. Here, you have everything!" Those words leaving his lips, full of frustration and slight annoyance as he stood up, pacing back and forth.

"It's not just for extra cash though. It's a dream job but I see where you're coming from. How can I just abandon everyone." He sat down, sitting closer to me than before, grabbing my hand again.

"I know you're passionate about this but there are so many things that are here for you and so many people who can't live without you. People like your parents, your siblings, your friends... me." My head shot towards him, my eyes going wide.

"George, you don't need me. We aren't together anymore."

"I know. But listen- I've been thinking about you so much. I really never stopped. I realized that you completed me. You were the one that got away, as cliché as that sounds. I've been thinking about what I could say to bring you back to me. I don't want to stop you from pursuing your dream but I still love you so much."

Tears released from my eyes as he spoke. I didn't come here to get back together but deep down, I think I was hoping for it. Maybe it was a bad decision coming back to my ex for advice. Maybe that was the reason why I came to him. I wanted him to be the thing that keeps me here. I couldn't face the fact that I was still deeply in love with him. I tried getting him out of my head. I had laid in bed, agonizing over him the entire first month of being broken up.

I couldn't just go back to him like this. I had this decision still looming over my head and although he made some good points, I still had to do what was best for me. A boy couldn't be the main reason I stay. Could it?

I also had to consider the reasons we broke up in the first place. His narrow mind for decisions and choices had been just the stepping stones towards a breakup. It felt like he was falling out of love with me. After dating for a year and a half, I thought our relationship was going strong but then he became noticeably distant. The more his career took off, the less time I got. Could I subject myself to that again or has he changed?

"George, I don't know. If I stay and we rekindled this relationship, is it going to be how it use to?" I said the tears welling up in my eyes again.

"No. Absolutely not! I promise, I can be different. I will dedicate myself to you. The only thing I want is to make you happy." He said, his eyes turning soft as he looked at me, eagerly waiting for a response.

"Well, you made plenty of good points for me to stay and I have to admit, I haven't stopped thinking of you either." I took a breath as I paused. "I am going to stay but- we need to talk about our relationship more. I think the time we spent apart, did us some good. We've been able to focus on ourselves for a bit. Now, hopefully we can give each other the things we both deserve." I explained smiling at him. His expression turned bright as he grabbed me, hugging me tightly.

"Of course! I'm so happy, I missed you so much."

"I missed you too."

~~~

A/n

I hope you enjoyed!! Please lmk if you wanna join my taglist, so you're updated when I posted a george, harry, or arthur tv (upcoming) fic! please lmk who you wanna be tagged for and if you would like to be tagged for smut or not. Also feel free to send requests!! Love you!!

[nightscythe]

I’ve been sick for the past two weeks, and it’s got me wondering—how do you think the primarchs would handle their s/o being sick for that long? Would some of them totally panic and try to carry you to the medbay even if you just have a cold? Or would they be the quietly worried type, sitting next to you and acting like they’re not checking your temperature every five minutes?

Would any of them try (and fail) to cook you something? Or maybe sit there reading to you because rest is important? I need to know who’s handling it with grace and who’s acting like you’re dying of the plague.

i hope you feel better anon!! i hope this gives you a bit of comfort ◡̈

pre-heresy primarchs when their muse is sick? just another way of saying that their entire world is shutting down. because they don't get sick so they just can't compute it properly.

cw for sickness/illness of course, worries about death, and alpharius' one is darker.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the lion: he would never, ever leave your side. he may not outright tell you he's worried but given the fact he's moved in days, its safe to assume his worry has consumed him beyond anything else. actually, the only time he did leave was when you fell asleep one time and he wanted to make you food himself (because, if whoever was making your food before was doing a good job, you'd be better already). he can't actually cook but he does his best for you an it actually turns out well, and when you inadvertently compliment him he decide then and there he will walways be the one who makes your food. convinces himself he's the reason you're getting better in the end. and when you finally find a bit of rest? he finally lets his hands shake because he was worried. tiny over-reaction.

fulgrim: pff, dramatic? that's not fulgrim at all. convinces himself you've contracted the black plague for certain, but keeps up his happy appearance and tells everyone you're going to be fine anyway. no expense is too much, an array of possible things to make you better are presented each day, no matter how many times you tell him you don't need tiny rocks to make you feel better no matter how pretty they were. would probably need shutting down eventually and for you to tell him you would just like him, not everything he can offer. his heart practically melts at the thought, and even if you did have the plague, he'd still risk getting it to so he could revel in how much you wanted him around.

perty: hates more than anything that he can't fix it for you. probably spends more time away from you in an effort to cure whatever illness you have (because antibiotics could surely be more efficient), asking for four updates an hour from his sons. also probably thinks he's useless being with you, so there's no point with you. let's say you have enough of not seeing him and find him, sit beside him and watch him work. he wouldn't notice you at first, so focused on distracting himself from worry that shouldn't even exist to him. but when you place your hand on his, he freezes. what do you need? he'd ask, and when you say you need him, he short circuits for a moment. yes, of course, whatever will help. probably one of the first times he realised it was him that you loved and not his mind.

khan: there's not many times he would show his feelings openly. but he doesn't understand human weakness, certainly not something so mundane as being sick. so when he tries to imagine it in his head, he somehow inflates it to something far worse than it actually is. he makes an effort to keep light banter with you, even jest at how he'd never expected something like this to phase you. he'd want to let you rest, but when you ask him to stay, he'd be the first to sit back down and make sure no one was disturbing him for at least 24 hours. he'd talk to you until you fell asleep and stay by your side until you woke up. the second you feel better he tells you he always knew you'd be fine, but internally he's finally stopped worrying that he was going to lose you.

leman: laughed it off at first (nervously) because he knew you were strong. forgot you were not a primarch and could acually be defeated by something as small as a cold in the more dire circumstances. he'd be quite proactive in trying to get you to recover. no mopping around in bed all day when you could be having a warm bath or sitting beside him eating a good meal. somehow by trying to convince himself everything is fine and normal he becomes extremely efficient in making you feel better because you just feel... normal. but when you really have had enough, and you just want to rest, it only takes one look for him to give in. come here, little one, he'd say as he pulled you into his arms, resting his head against yours, you are strong, you'll be okay.

dorn: he may not have the words to say to you, but he's comfort incarnate nonetheless. he holds your hand, a bit (a lot) tighter sometimes when you show any symptoms of your illness. he asks for things to be brought to you that he knows will help (ie, soup, and even tastes it to make sure its the perfect temperature), he processes every bit of information logically so he knows what could possibly happens. accidentally focuses on the most negative side effects. a side effect of your medication is death? doesn't matter how many times you tell him they have to say that in case you have an allergic reaction, he's convinced himself of the worse. only recovery will remove this fear. is your personal guardian until you feel better regardless.

curze: has no clue what to do. is angry at you for being sick (he told you to wear a jacket when it was cold and this is what we've come to?). angry at himself for not being able to change it (because he should have held you in his arms and forced you to share his warmth). he could just go and check if you needed anything but that's too easy. life isn't that fair to him, there must be more to it. turns his attention elsewhere in ignorant bliss. returns to your bedside in time for you to wake up and still doesn't say anything to you, just watches. if you seem any worse he'll send someone, he's no help in this situation. no, he just goes and procures you a bunch of flowers and a gift to show his affection.

sanguinius: he already treats you like the most fragile thing in existence, so when you actually do show an ounce of weakness? he caves. he will not let you lift a finger. he will not have you bear a single thought without his support. you may just have a sore throat, he'd silence you with a kiss and speak for you, as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. he'd smile sweetly as he did everything in his power to ensure you were recovering (yes, he'd have someone check on you every ten minutes, even has an oximeter on you just in case...). type to lay beside you as you sleep, watch you so closely he can track each of your breaths, shield you from anything the outside world has to offer. and he knows you'll be fine. but whats a better excuse than this to treat you like he always wanted to.

ferrus: well you're not allowed to have anything happen to you, so good luck. he doesn't really know how to tell you anything else. you're not leaving me, he'd say as he sat beside me. and you can tell him over and over its literally just tonsillitis or whatever. he doesn't listen. its like him telling you over and over will somehow indoctrinate your body into listening to him. immediately begins looking into a way to make sure you're not susceptible to illness again, but never leaves your side. it would seem that vaccines need to be made stronger...that is how they work, if they were more effective, you would not be in this condition. how do you tell him you can't vaccinate against every single bacteria and virus. in his own arrogance of telling you you can't leave him, he doesn't worry too much.

angron: it was okay at first. then he really thought about it. he's unable to cope at all. please don't leave me he'd whisper in the dead of night. he's so quietly observant, seeing your fever get worse, how you reached for him as if you wanted him to help. please, my love, tell me you won't leave me. he knows you're sleeping and won't hear him, but he can't bring himself to say it at any other time. he just sits there, his legs and hands shaking, waiting for your fever to break overnight. there were a few times he felt utterly powerless and this was one of those times. and when he finally sees you open your eyes, how you seem just a touch better? every part of his body relaxes. he knows you're past the worst of it. he knows you won't leave him.

rob: brings in the best medicae he knows, stands behind them observing all their tests to ensure he is satisfied they know everything that's wrong and have a complete follow up treatment plan. basically becomes versed in medicine as well so he can form part of the discussions and reassures himself the best that can be done is being done. ignore that all you had was the flu. yeah it sucks but you'll more than likely be fine. he micromanages every part of your recovery alongside the medicae to ensure optimal recovery. does he worry? yes. but he hides it better than the others in front of you. outside your room? he's pacing. he's got about 5 action plans in the works for what to do if you start to feel worse, don't respond to the paracetamol, and if you do get better when he's not there.

morty: it wasn't very often that mortarion felt weak himself. but when you're sick? when he can't immediately take away your pain or your hurt? that's when he breaks. you were used to his blank stare 90% of the time and having to work out how he actually felt. but the second his voice broke, it was obvious - he was not coping well. because he felt responsible for you, keeping you safe, keeping you well, and he felt like he had failed you. he'd personally take control of your recovery. he'd spent each minute with you, never allowing himself to take his eyes off you until he knew you were well again. even if you told him you were okay, he'd shush you, still seeing that you looked tired or your hands shook a little. the only person he could ever trust to help you was himself, and its in this time you see the mortarion that existed behind all of the walls he built.

magnus: he can feel everything you can, so no point lying to him. every ache, every pain - you can't hide anything from him. and that makes it so much worse because he starts to panic even more. he's completely devoted to you and he's not afraid to show it either. he'd lay with you, cast illusions of grandeur to try to make you feel a bit better. craft stories to take your mind off whatever you're feeling. use ancient treatments to offer you any reprise he can. and when you do fall asleep? poor guy just falls apart. he's scared to lose you already and seeing you in any kind of weakened state really sets him over the edge. he's cry whilst holds you, he'd search every future he can to see an outcome. when you wake up and tell him you're feeling a lot better? his heart almost bursts with joy. such a soft huge guy its unreal.

horus: he says he's not concerned (he is) because he's seen men lose most of their body and still survive (yeah thanks for that). he doesn't leave your side though, opting to cancel every engagement he was meant to attend in favour of spending it with you. i know it will pass, sweetheart, he'd say as he wrapped his arms around you and kept you as close to him as possible, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, but i would rather be with you until i know you're okay. he cares deeply about you and he's completely obssessed with you, so of course he's going to worry - but he turns that into extra love for you.

lorgar: he first of all believes that this is punishment for something he's done wrong. he's convinced that the powers above, be it his father or something else, knew that the fastest way to hurt him was through you. when you explain its because you caught it off a serf (an immediately retracted admission because this poor serf was almost about to feel the wrath of a primarch in love), he questions it, but accepts it. he would not feel whole again until you were well - this literally breaks him inside (because he later convinces himself this was fate's punishment and blames himself). he's so caught up in his divine presentation of you that he forgets you are human, his worship doesn't make you invincible. don't expect anything practical from him, he's now making plans to actually make you a divine entity.

vulkan: praise to the one primarch who doesn't overreact. he understands the depths of why you're unwell (be it a cold, a virus, or something more serious) and tailors his approach perfectly, knowing exactly what you do and don't need. and you know his big warm hands are extremely nice to feel no matter what's burdening you. he will give you your space when you need it, especially when you're sleeping so he doesn't disturb you, and when you want his company? he's right there with anything you've previously told him you liked. hot water bottle, blanket, energy drink (poor choice but 1 is permitted), he would have it all. let me take care of you, he'd mumble, pulling you into his arms. perfectly normal reaction, really.

corax: acts like he doesn't care, but he does. sends medicae your way the second he sees a slight shift, even if its just your voice sounding a bit hoarse or if you wince when you move a little. stands at the other side of the room and listens to everything they say with great detail to ensure he carries out their treatment to the best of his ability. if its something small he can sigh in relief for now, but anything else would leave him a bit of a mess internally. because what would he do without you? how can he get through life without you by his side? immediately assumes the worst and becomes a silent observer. makes sure everything you need is at your side immediately when you need it - including him.

alpharius: you needed him so much that he liked it. you always kept your independence around him, but when you were sick? you asked for his help in everything. and he lived for it. so maybe he manipulates your recovery. you thought you'd feel better after a week, but 3 weeks in and you still don't feel 100%. the medicae tells you its just a stronger form of the virus you caught. must have mutated. you're not paying enough attention to notice how they glance at alpharius when speaking. i'll keep you safe, he tells you, locking your door behind him. its not like you could get up to leave anyway, the strong painkillers kept you in bed. i won't let anything happen to you, he whispers softly as he strokes your hair and holds you against him. i won't lose you, as he wonders how he's going to convince you that you're still sick when you have no more symptoms.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello again !!

Because I love your work I'm here again...

So, I was thinking about little dark g!p Donna x fem reader, and like reader live in village her whole life, and one day she went to the church yk, and Donna can't keep her eyes off her, she literally fell in love with her, so Donna was insecure about herself so she just watch her, admire her (stalk) from afar... One day she gets hurt somehow so Donna save her, offer her a new home....

After some time, they became really close, but donna's feelings just became more stronger so she started giving her a small poets to express her love, and when y/n mention she's in love with someone, Donna lose her mind thinking her only true love, love someone else so she's just distance herself.

Y/n notice, so she tried to talk about it with Donna, and then Donna just crush out and say something like "DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHY? BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU AND I CANT IMAGINE LIFE WITHOUT YOU"

and theeen they kisssss, and Donna ping y/n against a wall yk what I mean💋

SORRY IF THIS IS COMPLICATED, ALSO I HOPE U UNDERSTAND, I AM STILL TRYING TO IMPROVE MY ENGLISH

Also A little late but happy birthday to you !

Yess!!! Hello again, friend :D!!! Thank you for your request and words!! You're so kind!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

A dark angel

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, angst, dark themes, dark Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 8,693

Summary: I love her, but she'll never be mine...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

Always the same prayers, the same gestures…

My siblings and I remained silent behind the shadow of the woman who gave us a second chance without asking our permission.

Lords, protectors, monsters… The ways those villagers called us repeated themselves in my head like terrifying whispers. I never liked people, I never liked company.

No matter how hard I tried to force myself to believe that something had changed after Mother Miranda's intervention, I was only fooling myself.

Despite being Lord, gaining terrifying powers, eternal life, and being embraced by the infinite kindness of the black priestess, I never felt different. Before, I was Donna Beneviento, the only surviving daughter of a noble family who had lost her mind; now I was Donna Beneviento, Lord of the village, doll, and nightmare maker.

I knew what people said about me, the fear my presence generated, the doubts in their eyes when they looked at me, when they saw the black veil covering my shame. They said I was a monster, and no matter how many times I looked in the mirror, the scar on my face spoke for itself.

Maybe my sick mind found some pleasure in the change, thinking that Mother Miranda's divine intervention was a good thing, something that would allow me to stop being that sad and lonely woman, but I was wrong.

Perhaps it would have been better if the priestess had let me die that day; at least that way, I could be with my family again, with my little sister. But the Gods had other plans for me. They played on my insecurities, changed my body at will, but, again, I couldn't complain; I had a new family.

Being Lady Beneviento really wasn't so bad. I had everything I wanted, even though I never asked for it. My doll Angie came to life, and I had the power to play with mortals if I got bored.

But something inside my head begged, pleaded for something more, something to end this eternal loneliness.

“Well, my children, before we return to our duties, there was someone who wanted to make an announcement, isn't that right?” Mother Miranda's different tone brought me out of my thoughts.

The sound of footsteps on the altar was the signal I was waiting for to leave that place and return to my quiet, solitary routine, but something stopped me, something prevented my legs from moving.

“Yes. Thank you, Mother Miranda,” a sweet voice penetrated my ears and made me turn my head sharply with curiosity.

“Mm,” the priestess murmured, stepping back a little to allow me to see where that heavenly voice was coming from.

One step, two... Little by little, something rose toward the altar, something that... was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

A young woman, no more than twenty years old, stood in the middle of the place, allowing me to see, something that kept me standing still, frozen: her face, her hair, a nervous look... Something beautiful, truly beautiful.

Her dress moved with her steps, and hands that seemed tremendously soft played nervously. A beautiful girl, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, stood inches away from me.

I didn't know every single villager, but... how could I not realize that such incredible beauty existed? My mind began to study her delicate body, the perfume emanating from her hair, her bright, dazzling eyes…

 “Well, you know me, I'm (Y/N),” the young girl began, causing my mind to process her name, dazzling with her gentle words. “I just wanted to announce that I finally have enough materials to start my artisanal tea business,” she explained, the trembling of her hands betraying her shyness.

After the silent approval of the rest of the villagers, the girl took a small tea bag out of her pocket, waving it playfully.

“Um… it took me a long time to get everything I needed, and I hope you all can enjoy it,” she continued, but I was no longer listening.

My eyes studied every curve of her body, her chest. My hands longed to caress that silky mane, my ears longed to hear her voice every day, every hour, every minute, every second.

Everything blurred around me, except for her, an angel in the darkness, beauty standing out among the monsters.

A cold draft made me shake my head slightly and frown. My body felt light and my hands empty. When I woke from that little reverie, I realized the problem.

“Oh, tell me, silly, do you give away free samples?” a familiar voice said, my doll Angie, who, surely taking advantage of my absentmindedness, jumped out of my arms and ran toward the girl, snatching the tea bag she was waving.

I grew nervous, walking quickly toward the puppet, who laughed amusedly while the young woman backed away in fear.

“Look, Donna, look what I have,” Angie said, running towards me again, proudly displaying her trophy.

“Angie, give it back to her,” I whispered, picking up the tea and making a show of giving it back, hiding the trembling in my own hands.

“Oh no, well...” she said, looking directly at me with a fake, nervous, scared smile. “Please keep it, my lady.” Her hands traveled to mine, gently pushing them against my chest.

Her touch frightened me, causing me to push that softness away from my hands with a gasp. Her fingers burned against my skin, teasingly tickling my body. I couldn't bear it with fortitude. I was scared. I was scared to have her so close to me, to feel her skin against mine.

“I'm sorry,” (Y/N) apologized, taking a step back, confused by my attitude, or perhaps scared to know who she had touched.

I glanced at the small bag trembling in my hands, and with no other choice, I nodded imperceptibly, finally stepping down from the altar, unable to avoid giving that beautiful girl one last look.

Despite Angie commenting on every detail of the mass, as always, the walk back to the mansion was silent for me. My doll's voice didn't reach my ears; my senses were too busy remembering, re-forming (Y/N)'s image in my mind.

“Hey, silly Donna! Are you listening to me?” the doll asked as I set her down on the floor, finally reaching the safety of my old mansion. “Donna!”

“Silenzio,” I ordered with a growl, pushing the veil away from my face. “Will you be quiet for a moment?”

“Quiet? You silly Donna...” the doll hissed, making me glance at her briefly in reprimand.

Nothing, I didn't want anything, or anyone to stop my mind from thinking about her, that tea girl.

Sighing, I sank into a dining room chair, the tea bag in my hands. I brought it to my nose, inhaling the sweet scent of wild berries, bringing an involuntary smile to my face. She smelled the same; it was like holding her in my hands.

“You're welcome for the free sample,” Angie mocked, climbing onto the table and observing my strange behavior.

“She was beautiful...” I sighed unwillingly, smiling like a little girl, closing my eye to remember the sparkle in hers, her every gesture.

“Mm? What? What are you talking about?” the doll asked, comically tilting her head and gesturing with her hands. “Uh, Donna, ciao, ciao...”

“Ugh, I mean her,” I whispered, moving the bag in my hands, feeling the touch, imagining that those soft fingers had been in the same place. “T-The tea girl...”

“Oh, that silly village girl,” the puppet laughed sinisterly. “It was fun scaring her a little, wasn't it?”

“No, Angie, you shouldn't scare people,” I stammered, blinking erratically, confused by my reaction. “Not her.”

“Uh-Oh...” Angie murmured, moving a little closer to me. “Donna, Donna... you like her, don't you?”

“No, I...” I said awkwardly in my defense. “W-Well, she's beautiful, don't you think?”

“I don't know. I'm just a doll, and you're a fool,” she scolded, pointing at me with a wooden finger. “How can you like her? You barely knew she existed.”

“I don't know, but... she's so beautiful,” I sighed, resting my head on one hand, staring at the ceiling, like a child in love, my heart beating too fast. “She has a beautiful voice and...”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Angie interrupted, gesturing with her hands. “Stop, Donna, you're rambling, she's just another village girl.”

I shook my head, suffering an attack of rationality in my mind, as if I had woken from a deep sleep.

“Certo,” I finally said, standing up slowly. “You're right, Angie, it's nonsense.”

“Listen to your favorite doll, you know she's always right,” Angie emphasized, giving me a mocking pat on the back. “Maybe you need some company... why don't you call Alcina? You know she always has a maid for you...”

Angie's suggestion was always an easy way to forget, to let off steam, to feel falsely loved for a moment, a feeling that disappeared too soon, but it worked at least to soothe my needs.

But on that occasion, I found it repugnant, undignified. No, there was no maid in the castle as beautiful as the tea girl; none had that sweet voice, that dazzling gaze.

“No, I don't feel like it,” I said, frowning and shaking my head.

“As you wish,” Angie said, stepping down from the table with a gesture of indifference.

“I think I'll make some tea,” I said with a different, animated smile.

I longed to try that infusion, to know what that young woman from the church was capable of, if her products had the same beauty, the same harmony as her.

The sweet and bitter taste of the tea ran down my throat like a love potion, like a heavenly ambrosia that transported me back to her. In the dregs, I could see her smile, her gaze, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

My mind was unable to calm down when something disturbed it. My illness made me hear voices, wails, words of love that didn't exist.

I thought maybe those thoughts would disappear with time, just like when a maid pretended to be affectionate with me and I believed I might have a chance.

I'd stopped thinking that way years ago, resigned myself to loving and being loved in the same way, but I knew the feeling, the trembling of my hands when I thought of her, the smile that involuntarily formed on my lips when I remembered her.

I couldn't forget her. I couldn't stop thinking about her, about the taste of her tea. My body began to miss the sweetness of wild berries, pushing me to crave, to desperately crave that warmth running down my throat again.

Of course, I knew what my body wanted, and it wasn't tea. I wasn't interested in that liquid; I was interested in (Y/N), and I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop the sight of her eyes appearing in every doll I made, the struggle of my mind to capture her beauty in my creations so I'd never forget her.

Hardly aware of it, the obsession began to play tricks on me.

Some nights I would let myself go, relaxing with the slow, gentle touch of my hands as I closed my eye or just looked through some old clothing catalog.

The rosy-cheeked models posing there seemed to be moving, their hands replacing mine as they slowly stimulated my penis in the solitude of my bedroom.

But the made-up smiles of those girls distorted as my arousal grew and my breathing quickened. The polished nails of the hands I imagined surrounding my erection dissolved like dust, changing completely.

“Cazzo...” I protested as my mind began to form new images in my head: new hands, a new smile looking down at me, whispering to me, masturbating me.

I even thought I could smell the tea as my panting increased. It was her, the girl from the church, moving her hand up and down my body, maintaining a frantic rhythm that made me squirm. Those eyes looked at me, that sweet voice whispered words of love, of desire…

I wanted to stop, I wanted to free my mind from that impossible image, to return to the fantasies of the girls in the catalog, but I couldn't. I groaned, I protested, but I couldn't shake the shivers that ran down my spine, feeling that the end was irrevocably closer.

Finally, I released myself into my hand, feeling the wet heat of my seed on my skin, dripping through my fingers. I opened my eye, trying to catch my breath, and for a moment, just for a moment, I thought I saw her, (Y/N), in front of me, biting her lip, moaning, writhing.

Shaking my head, I got out of bed, going to the bathroom to wash the remnants of my undignified release from my hands, and the remnants of my thoughts about her from my mind. The cold water cleared my mind, but my gaze in the mirror spoke for itself.

Images of that tea girl beneath my body appeared next to my deformed face, invisible moans echoed off the walls, and my mind began to wonder, to think about what it would be like to make something so beautiful mine.

“How disgusting,” a shrill voice distracted me from my fantasies. Of course, Angie always appeared at the worst possible moment. “Are you finished? I wish I could go to sleep.”

“You can't sleep,” I whispered, clearing my throat and drying my hands, ignoring the doll. “Lasciami, Angie”

“Oh, sorry, Your Majesty,” she continued mockingly, following me back into the bedroom. “What's wrong with you? You've been acting really weird lately. Weirder than usual, I mean.”

“Weird? Me? I don't know why you're saying that,” I protested, plopping down on my desecrated bed, followed closely by my irreverent doll.

“You don't have to say anything. I know everything, remember?” Angie said, sitting uncomfortably next to me, her eyes scrutinizing me, as if I should feel guilty about something. “It's that girl again. You’re obsessed...”

“What do you care?” I asked, offended, annoyed to admit that, once again, she was right.

“I don't care,” she replied, crossing her arms. “But I think you're an idiot.”

“Va bene, lasciami estare,” I hissed, turning off the dim light in the room, trying to ignore Angie's voices, and the ones in my head. “Ugh, Angie...” I protested again when the doll turned the small lamp back on.

“Hey, if you like that girl so much, why don't you do something about it?” she suggested, involuntarily capturing my attention.

“Cosa?” I asked, sitting up in bed and bringing my knees to my chest. “I-I can't do anything.”

“Of course you can. She's still a silly village girl, and you're a lord, remember?” the doll said in a mocking tone, making me sigh thoughtfully.

“Th-That doesn't mean anything,” I murmured, feeling a wave of sadness over me.

“It doesn’t?”

“Of course! Look at me!” I shouted furiously, irrationally, pointing at my deformed face, the face of a monster. “What chance does a freak like me have?! She's beautiful, and I'm... a... a... a...”

“Okay, shut up,” the puppet ordered me.

“Angie, you're trying my patience too hard,” I threatened in a dark tone, something that, of course, didn't bother the doll in the least.

“Fine, whatever you want, keep playing with your little thing and feeling sorry for yourself, you bore me, silly Donna,” Angie sighed, getting out of bed, ready to abandon me.

“Angie...” I sobbed, starting to feel really bad, a feeling of frustration rushing over me without warning. “I'm not okay.”

“What a surprise.”

“I see her everywhere... I... dream about her, I imagine her while...” I began to confess, giving in to my irrational feelings. “I feel her, I smell the scent of her tea every second, I... I can't get her smile out of my head...”

“Then do something,” the doll said indifferently, climbing back into bed.

“N-No... I can't, I don't dare to,” I admitted cowardly, hiding my face between my knees. “I've never...”

“Who said you have to dare?”

“Cosa vuoi dire?” I asked, confused.

“I mean... well, why settle for seeing her in your thoughts when you can do it in reality?” Angie explained, leaving me even more lost.

“You mean... watching her?” I asked again, frowning and looking away. “That's not...”

“Not, what?” the doll insisted, moving closer to me, placing her wooden hands on my shoulders. “That silly girl is still a villager, it's not like she's out of your reach...”

“What are you implying?”

“I'm not implying anything. I'm just telling you what to do,” she said in a supple, haughty tone. “And you know I always give you good advice.”

“So, what do you think I should do?” I asked impatiently, crossing my arms.

“What you do best, dear Donna, lurk in the shadows...”

Angie's advice seemed childish. Lurk in the shadows? Stalk (Y/N)? Watch her? How stupid.

At least that's what I thought for a few insignificant minutes. Then, I began to see some clarity in her words. I could try with all my might, but that girl would never feel anything for me, I knew that well. No one had ever felt anything for me, at least not something they weren't forced to pretend.

The idea of ​​romance, of having someone to love, someone who would love me, sounded great, but as time passed, I began to forget it, to feel like it wasn't meant for me, that I didn't have the right to experience true love. My deformity, my different body, kept me from being a normal woman, someone a girl like (Y/N) would want to meet.

I knew it from the moment I was entranced by her gaze, by her smile. I could only imagine her, admire her from afar, never in any other way. Angie could be many things, but above all, she was a part of me, a part of my consciousness that I separated from my body, thanks to the Gods.

The idea seemed dark, but the more I thought about it, the more light illuminated my mind. Yes, the only thing I could do was not to forget her, strive to get to know her without her knowing, observe her movements in the darkness, hidden.

I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know what she liked, the things she hated and loved, how she walked, how she spoke, how she dressed, how she lived. The obsession didn't improve—quite the opposite—but I know it was only my fault.

Every day I walked towards the village, hiding from the gaze of others, from their shining eyes. I felt safe in the shadows.

I learned a lot from you, you know?

I knew that (Y/N) liked to sew, I knew what books she read, what face she had when she fell asleep by the warmth of a small fireplace. The smell of that delicious tea accompanied me in my observations, and my fantasies turned into increasingly vivid dreams.

I knew her routine, the small shop where she sold her tea, the exact steps from her house to her work. I began to lose my mind. Sheets of old paper began to fill with notes about (Y/N). I didn't want to forget every discovery, every new aspect I saw in her.

I thought I knew her, but it was only an illusion. My hidden body deeply longed to be discovered, longed for those beautiful eyes to look at me, but it never happened. I didn't want to be seen, I didn't want her to see the figure peering through her window, the ghost of the woman who haunted her without her knowing.

My conscience would attack me from time to time, making me feel guilty for chasing her, for harassing her. But then she would appear, dispelling any doubts with her kind smile, her polite, somewhat shy voice.

I had to feel bad, but I was unable to.

The nights were even worse. I stopped visiting the castle maids and their false, cold warmth, starting to enjoy my memories, my imagination. Thinking of her, of her hands touching me, of her body embracing mine, making her mine, was enough to calm my impulses.

But the more I did it, the worse I felt. I felt like those hands would never surround me, that the warmth of her naked body would never come close to mine, that her lips would never kiss me.

I had to acknowledge reality, but I couldn't. The crises changed. I no longer lamented my pathetic existence, but my inability to approach that girl without trembling, to do anything other than stalk her or lurk in the shadows.

It was unbearable, but it was an addiction I couldn't break.

Spying, studying, observing, thinking, imagining, touching myself, ejaculating, sleeping, and repeating, became a painful and inevitable routine that stretched on for too long.

“Che bella sei...” I murmured, watching your smile as (Y/N) attended the villagers, the gestures she made.

“Uhg,” Angie protested, turning away with a tired sigh. “Donna, I'm starting to get tired of this.”

“Your smile is beautiful...” I sighed again, dazzled by her beauty, blushing as I hid behind some trees. “Ti amo, (Y/N)...”

“Okay, okay, enough,” the doll interrupted, standing in front of my field of vision, obscuring her image. “Donna, basta.”

“Get out of the way, I can't see her,” I protested, gently slapping the doll and positioning myself on that distant bench.

“What? Are you hard already? Are you going to take it out and jerk it off out here? ” Angie said in a nasty tone, forcing me to tear my gaze away from (Y/N)'s beauty and growl at my friend.

“Ma che volgare, Angie,” I snapped, disgusted by her hurtful insinuations. “What's that about?”

“Donna, I'm sick of coming here day after day to stare at that silly girl and watch you lose your mind,” she said, climbing onto my lap with an authoritarian pose. “You're pathetic.”

“What? Take that back,” I threatened, pushing her off my body, starting to get dangerously nervous. “Take it back...” I growled darkly, standing up.

“Never,” the doll sighed, unfazed by my attitude. “Stupida”

“Non...” I hissed, my breathing becoming dangerously faster. No, I couldn't argue with the doll so close to her; she'd see us, everyone would notice. “Cavolo, Angie, this was your idea.”

“Yes, I thought you'd calm down a bit,” she replied, gesturing indifferently. “But I can see you haven't. You're losing your mind, much more than usual.”

“So what do you want me to do? I... I love her...” I said in a softer, submissive tone, sinking back onto the bench. “I can't do anything but admire her from afar, dream that one day she could be mine and...”

“Wake up, silly Donna,” the puppet interrupted, climbing into my lap and smacking me on the head, making me groan again. “Stop fooling around and act at once.”

“I've already told you, Angie, there's no way she'll notice someone like me, much less love me,” I sighed, on the verge of sobbing, feeling the fabric of my black veil dampen with my tears.

“That's nonsense,” the doll replied, shaking her head. “You're a lord, remember? You don't need her to love you.”

“I don't like what you're implying,” I whispered, confused, but knowing what her intentions were.

“Fine, but you have no choice,” she said, comically crossing her arms. “You can have whatever you want, Donna, whoever you want. She's just a simple villager; you shouldn't care about her feelings. You want it? Then take it.”

“Do you want me to kidnap her?” I asked, thoughtfully. “Th-That's not romantic at all. I don't think...”

“Do you love her?”

“Yes, of course I do,” I replied, nodding, nerves running through my body. “I love her more than anything.”

“Then take her, make her yours, she can't say no. You're her owner,” the doll finished, getting off my lap and pointing at the store. “You'd like it, wouldn't you? For her to kiss you, to caress you, to feel her close to you...”

I just nodded, imagining it all in my mind, what it would be like, how it could be so real and no longer be a fantasy. A sinister smile spread across my face.

“Yes, I would like it.”

“Then do it, silly Donna, take that stupid girl with you. She won't be able to refuse. You could make her suck you off whenever you want and...”

“Angie, please, don't... don't make it look dirty. I-I want to be romantic, to love and take care of her... She couldn't refuse me, could she? I could make her truly love me...” I rambled, slowly getting up, playing with my hands, which, for some reason, were starting to sweat.

“Oh, yes, of course, dear Donna, she'd be yours and only yours. You just have to... well, take her. Easy peasy, right?”

“Yes...” I sighed, my gaze fixed on the snow, drowning out the images of (Y/N)'s screams as I kidnapped her against her will. Those screams would turn into moans, I was sure of it. “But... but how do we do it?”

“Follow me. I have a plan,” Angie said, walking closer to the store, too close.

“Angie, what...?” I asked as I followed her, not realizing I'd already entered the artisan shop, and had found something beautiful, her gaze upon mine.

“My lady,” (Y/N) said, giving a small bow without taking her gaze from mine. “I was waiting for you to come.”

“D-davvero?” I stammered unconsciously. I think she heard me, because she frowned, confused.

“I'm sorry, but... I don't understand you,” she said kindly, without removing that smile from her face. “Was that Italian? Gods, I had no idea you...”

I knew that smile.

“Yes, yes, yes, whatever you say, silly girl,” Angie interrupted, comically climbing up onto the counter. “You were waiting for us, huh?”

“Um, well… I remember that I offered you some of my tea, and I was worried.”

“You were worried,” I sighed, my voice imperceptible to her until I cleared my throat. “Perché?”

“Um... well,” (Y/N) stammered, visibly nervous. “The truth is, I was worried that my tea wouldn't be to your liking, Lady Beneviento.”

“The tea was fine, or so Donna says,” Angie said, amused, fussing with the things on the counter.

“I'm glad to hear that, my... lady,” the girl murmured, still nervous, with that tremble in her voice that betrayed a certain fear of my presence.

You'll be more afraid, little bird.

“Oh, um... are you interested in buying something? Don't worry, I have special prices for distinguished customers.” Her merchant's tone pierced my ears, detecting a hint of falseness, of discomfort.

“Yes, yes... tell me, silly, where do you get your herbs?” the puppet interrupted again, discreetly gesturing for me to let her speak.

“Well, the wild plants here offer a lot of possibilities, but I'm afraid there isn't much variety,” (Y/N) explained, while Angie studied the tea bags.

“I see... that's because you haven't ventured into the western forest, huh?” Angie continued, while I marveled at her gaze.

“Mm, no, well... that's your territory, isn't it, Lady Beneviento?” she asked me in a doubtful tone, to which I nodded elegantly. “I wouldn't want to trespass on your property, my lady.”

“Nonsense,” Angie said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. “Donna wouldn't mind you gathering some herbs to continue making that delicious tea, would you, Donna?”

“Mm,” I murmured, beginning to understand the doll's plan. She was certainly clever, too clever.

“Oh, well... I appreciate it because I was starting to have stock issues and... if... if that's okay with you... I'll stop by there, I'll try not to disturb you.”

“Va bene,” I said formally, hiding the trembling in my hands as I turned around. “I'll take four bags.”

“Perfect... thank you, thank you very much, my lady.”

It certainly seemed like a good plan. She'd just have to come to me, to my territory. Once she crossed the bridge, it would be the end, and my beginning. I resisted doing it, but I had to admit Angie had a great idea.

I just had to wait for that little bird to fall into my net.

“There she is,” I said, excited to see (Y/N) appear out of the snow after a long few days of waiting.

“Yeah, I see,” the doll said as we hid behind an old wall. “Okay, we just have to wait until she's distracted and... boom! You'd have that pussy just for you.”

“Angie...” I hissed at that vulgarity, and the sinister laugh that accompanied it. “I told you to not to talk about her like that. She'd be my girlfriend, not a whore, do you understand?”

“Whatever," the doll whispered. “Look, she turned around... she looks scared.”

“I'm not surprised,” I sighed, a pang of sadness in my chest.

Could she really love me? Could I force her to do it? I was desperate; I couldn't do anything else. She'd be mine, no matter what.

(Y/N) walked slowly, cautiously, probably afraid of the rumors circulating about me in the village, about how dangerous it was to enter my territory and the high probability of never returning.

After a sigh, seeing that there was no danger, the young woman began to examine the bushes there, looking for herbs for her tea, wild plants that I knew didn't exist, at least not in the way she thought, or Angie made her think.

“Now,” I growled, emerging from my hiding place and clenching my fists as Angie followed close behind, laughing sinisterly. “You're mine now...”

I walked slowly toward the girl, who seemed quite distracted, vulnerable. My mouth watered, imagining all the things we would do, how much we would love each other, everything I had planned for my girlfriend, my wife, my eternal lover.

But suddenly, (Y/N) gasped in fear.

I stopped, thinking maybe I'd given myself away, that she'd heard me.

No, don't run away, little one, don't run away from me...

I blinked in relief to see her gaze directed not at where I was standing, but in the opposite direction. Her legs moved, starting to back away, and a growl began to echo through the snowy forest.

One of Moreau's hideous creatures emerged from the trees, one ironically named Vârcolac, the local term for "werewolf." It was a deformed, rabid dog that was slowly approaching the young woman.

All my senses were on alert, but when I started to run, it was too late.

A scream of pain was the next thing I heard. That ferocious beast had pounced on (Y/N), its teeth sinking into the skin of her arm, causing her beautiful blood to spill into the snow.

I rushed forward as fast as I could, rabid, snarling with rage. No, that beast couldn't take her away from me; she was mine.

“Basta!” I shrieked furiously, standing in front of the creature, which released the arm of the young woman, who was crying in terror. “Go away!”

I knew the influence we had on those creatures; I expected obedience, and I got it. But no, it wasn't enough. That thing had hurt my beloved, and it would have to pay. The rabid dog began to whimper, to cry in suffering as I focused on making it pay.

“Gods...” (Y/N) whispered, pulling away, dragging herself through the snow with her injured arm. “Gods...”

Hearing her addictive voice, I stopped, leaving the Vârcolac alone, which fled with agonized wails, never to return.

“(Y/N)… are you okay?” I asked, crouching down next to the young woman. “Cavolo, what was that thing doing here?” As I asked, I looked at Angie, who just shrugged.

“M-My arm,” (Y/N) stammered, holding her wound. “It hurts,” she complained, writhing in pain.

“Relax, you're safe now,” I whispered, unable to believe what had just happened, soothing (Y/N)'s pain with my powers, making her gaze relax before she fainted. “You're with me now…”

Those were my last words before picking her up and taking her home, to her new home.

Healing her was simple, but watching her sleep… it was complicated. My body was asking me to do things I'm ashamed of, but luckily, I was stronger than my impulses. I treated and washed her wound while whispering words of love to her, knowing she couldn't hear me.

“Well...” Angie said, climbing into the bed. “Everything went much better than I expected.”

“Better? Cazzo... Angie, tell me you have nothing to do with the Vârcolac,” I growled nervously.

“Of course I haven’t. That slimy fish should have better control over his creatures, but hey, it came in handy,” the doll said, looking at the unconscious (Y/N).

“Handy? She... she's hurt... I was about to lose her and...” I said nervously, gently stroking the girl's silky hair, intoxicated by her tea scent.

“Don't be silly, this was the best thing that could have happened to you, Donna. You didn't have to kidnap her, you saved her life. Of course, it's much better,” the doll explained, making me realize that, once again, she was right.

“Mm... Mm...” a murmur escaped the young woman's lips, causing my head to snap towards her. “Where... Where am I?”

“You're safe, in my house,” I explained softly, continuing to stroke her hair.

(Y/N) winced slightly before rubbing her eyes with her good arm, positioning herself, noticing who was beside her.

“Lady Beneviento,” she whispered weakly, her eyes wide open, watching me.

Then it hit me. My hand went to my face, and I didn't notice the black cloth that used to cover it, but my skin. I'd forgotten about the veil, I was so afraid of losing you…

“Mannaggia…” I lamented, getting up to escape this situation. I wasn't ready to show her my hideous face, not yet.

“W-Wait…” the girl interrupted, reaching for my wrist, preventing me from moving with her burning touch. “Wait, please.”

“You shouldn't have seen me, (Y/N),” I whispered, struggling not to fall into her sweet grasp.

“No, I... it's fine, my lady... I like to put a face to my guardian angel,” she commented with a warm smile, making me look back at her slowly, to see the sincerity of her misguided words.

“I'm not an angel,” I murmured, removing her tempting hand from me, walking away from the bed.

“Well...” she said, painfully sitting down on the bed, still staring at me, scrutinizing my deformed features. “You look like an angel to me.”

“You're wrong,” I said frowning, but turning completely around.

(Y/N) shrugged with a sleepy smile, lying back down.

“Thank you,” she whispered, falling asleep again, forcing my weak body to move closer to her. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“I... don't,” I murmured, sitting next to her and looking at the bandage on her arm. “Y-You should rest.”

“Mm,” she gestured again. “I’m a little dizzy… I don’t think I can go home now…”

“No,” I said tersely, shaking my head. “You have to stay here, with me… erm… you must stay, and you can do it… as long as you want…”

“Mm… yes, you’re an angel…”

Her voice was sleepy due to my powers, but it was still divine, heavenly. She was no longer talking to herself or a client; she was talking to me; those words were directed at me. Dizzy or not, she was speaking to me; she had looked at me; there was no horror on her face, no fear.

All the horrible thoughts I had for her disappeared in an instant when my reckless hand grasped hers as her breathing relaxed and deepened. She was mine now, she was with me, but for some reason, I didn’t feel strong, I didn’t feel like holding her back by force.

I wanted to love her, take care of her, see her smile, and hear her tell me those beautiful things. I couldn't do it, I could never hurt (Y/N), and that was killing me.

When her arm healed, she would be gone forever, I would lose her, but I couldn't help thinking it was the right thing to do, that she would be much happier without me, that her smile would disappear if I forced her to love me.

At least she was mine in that moment. Maybe I could try, maybe...

Little by little, (Y/N) regained consciousness, flushing the drug emanating from my body and bringing her out of her disorientation. She didn't change much; she simply seemed much more serene, fearful, but... for some reason, she didn't seem to be truly afraid of me; rather, she seemed to want to be polite and grateful.

I cared for her, treated her with affection, with sweet words while I healed her wound, while she hissed in pain at my actions. But I was always rewarded with a beautiful smile, a sincere, grateful smile.

I couldn't fully reflect the days that passed, but they were more than one, more than two. Soon after arriving at my house, (Y/N) was able to roam freely, curious about everything there, asking questions, and being fascinated by each of my explanations.

“Mm, it's delicious,” she commented one evening while we were having dinner together, in silence, a calm, peaceful silence, a silence that allowed me to contemplate her, to see how she looked at me, how she acted without me being hidden, watching.

“Grazie,” I said gratefully, taking a sip from my glass of wine.

“This pasta has been my favorite food since I was a child,” (Y/N) said, wiping herself with a napkin.

“I know,” I said mistakenly, instantly regretting it for knowing her better than she did.

“Wow, you lords know everything, don't you?” she said amusedly, tasting the wine, complaining about her wound. “Ouch...”

“It's our job,” I said confidently, taking advantage of my status to correct my stupid mistakes.

“I see,” she said, winking at me, a gesture I didn't quite interpret, making me blink in confusion. “I thought I could do something for you.”

“Something for me?” I asked curiously, a darkness appearing in my gaze. Yes... I could think of many things she could do for me.

“Mm,” the girl nodded, carefully placing her glass on the table. “Well, you feed me, you take care of me... sometimes I don't think I want to go home,” she joked, making my face freeze.

“Then don't do it,” I said in an indifferent tone that made her raise her eyebrows before she laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Well, who knows...” she murmured distractedly after that awkward moment, which she dismissed as a joke. It wasn't. “But I would like to help you, at least... well, I know how to sew, and... I could help you with your dolls.”

“Mm, you need to perfect your technique,” I commented, slipping up again, making her look suspicious.

“Oh, really?” (Y/N) said amused, but with a slightly different tone, as if something didn't add up. “Well, I guess if you're patient enough with me, you could teach me your... perfect technique.”

“You can't sew with that arm,” I said, trying to break out of my own trap.

"It won't be forever, will it?" she joked again, raising her wine glass.

I smiled mysteriously, beginning to enter into a strange game I didn't understand, but I liked. I was crazy about her, hopelessly in love with her. That hadn't changed, it had only gotten worse.

“Here's to that, cin cin...”

As her wound healed, my hopes began to fade.

(Y/N) wasn't a simple villager; she was a young woman with a talent for fabrics, a lover of poetry, a kind, cheerful girl...

I never thought we could have so many things in common, that someone like me could get so close to someone like her without forcing her to do so. Of course, I had saved her life, and she was grateful for it. (Y/N) only meant to be kind and grateful, but it burned me. Her smile devoured my insides, made my heart race, excited me, drove me crazy.

Laughter, movies, hours of silent reading... somehow, we had established a bond I hadn't expected. I had managed to approach her without trembling and she didn't tremble when I did. She was perfect, so perfect…

Love consumed me, making me feel pain, sadness, frustration. She was just a girl grateful for what I did, nothing more. Soon she would be gone, abandoning me, and I would only be able to live on memories, on that false illusion of a shared life.

Luckily, I watched her long enough to get to know her, to know what she liked, what to do to please her. It wasn't too difficult for me to do so; she loved poetry, and I loved reading it to her, dedicating a few verses to her in small notes, or while doing her best to help me with my dolls.

I was happy, or I thought was. I would never be happy until she was mine, until she told me if she had feelings for me.

It drove me crazy, I suffered crises at night when she wasn't watching, desperately calling out her name, smashing mirrors and furniture, begging the Gods for a chance for happiness, with her.

“Anche così è stato breve il nostro lungo viaggio.

Il mio dura tuttora, né più mi occorrono

le coincidenze, le prenotazioni,

le trappole, gli scorni di chi crede

che la realtà sia quella che si vede...”

I recited one night, by the light of the fireplace, with her fascinated gaze fixed on mine. My voice trembled, but at the same time it was firm and sure. It didn't matter how much I was suffering for her love. I would suffer eternally to see those eyes look at me like that, to hear the words my lips spoke...

“Wow, it's beautiful,” (Y/N) commented, whispering so as not to disturb the peace of the moment. “What does it mean?”

“It talks about the loss of a great love,” I explained, closing the book, nervous to have her dress so close to mine, so close to me... “Eugenio Montale remembered his deceased wife with these verses, the things they experienced...”

“Oh, that's very sad,” she sighed, lowering her gaze. “Still, it sounds beautiful. Lost love is love, after all.”

“I-I guess so,” I said, relaxing a little, trying not to look at her intently whenever she spoke, to avoid seeming desperate, in love...

“Love is beautiful in all its forms, don't you think so?” she said in a casual tone, placing her legs on the sofa in a distracted posture.

“I don't know,” I answered sincerely.

“Have you never been in love? Oh, um... I shouldn't have asked that, I...” the girl said, once again recalling that cautious tone from the first days, the first weeks.

I didn't respond. I just looked away.

“What about you, silly girl? Have you fallen in love?” Angie interrupted, comically scaring us, breaking the tension of that moment, of that awkward question.

“Angie...” I hissed menacingly, while (Y/N) giggled with a hand on her chest. “Lasciala.”

“It's okay,” the tea girl said, shaking her head. “Actually… I'm in love right now, really bad, indeed.”

Her words stabbed into my chest like two sharp daggers. My whole world, my fantasies, and hopes crumbled at once. I should have known, I should have imagined that someone as perfect as (Y/N) would have someone waiting for her, someone who loved her, and who wasn't me.

Suppressing my rage, my desire to hurt her for causing me pain, I abruptly stood up from the couch, causing the girl to do the same, worried.

“Donna...” she said calmly. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine! Cazzo...” I screamed, removing her soft hands from my shoulders, which were trying to turn me towards her. “Take your hands off me, you stupid girl,” I growled, panting angrily and running towards the elevator, towards a night of inconsolable crying.

“Donna, wait.”

I didn't hear her; I could only hear her confession, her declaration of love for someone else. I'd already lost my mind, but that finished me off, brutally. Still, killing her, taking revenge out of spite, didn't seem like a good idea.

Imagining the terror in her eyes, her last breath, didn't console me, quite the opposite. Anyway, I already knew it was impossible; she would never love me, and I'd have to accept that, or I'd end up hurting her.

I decided it was best to distance myself, to cool down enough so I wouldn't feel the warmth of her presence, to count the days until her wounds healed completely and she disappeared from my life forever, before I did instead.

But I was never good at acting; my new attitude couldn't go unnoticed by her.

“Donna,” (Y/N) said, bursting into my workshop, distracting me with her unattainable charms. “I-I think I'm completely healed now.”

“Good,” I whispered, concentrating on the porcelain, not in her beauty. “Then you can get out of my house.”

“What? Um... I thought... I thought you liked being with me, I was thinking about...” she said, confused, getting dangerously close.

“No! Don't think, stupid! If you're healed, go away, you're just annoying me,” I exclaimed spitefully, breaking the doll with my hands, with the force of my pain.

“Why are you treating me like this? You're not the same, Donna, I thought that...” she said, hurt, pretending to care about my attitude.

I couldn't take it anymore.

“Why? Are you asking why?” I said, standing up from the chair with a dark look, clenching my fists tightly on either side of my hips. “Because I love you, stupida! I've been in love with you longer than you can imagine! You break my heart, you tell me there's someone you love... and you ask why I treat you like this? I don't know, (Y/N), maybe it's because I can't stand you being so close to me if I can't have you, maybe it's because I can't live without you!”

“I know,” she commented, unfazed by my madness, leaving me voiceless, colorless. “I always knew... you were there, somehow.”

“Cosa?” I asked nervously, a tear of love running down my cheek.

“I saw you far away, in the snow, watching me every day...” she explained, replacing my anger with shame. “At first I was scared, but... somehow... I knew you didn't want to hurt me.”

“You don't know anything, stupida,” I hissed, moving a little closer.

“I know what I feel,” she said firm, confident, without taking her eyes off mine. “Donna, I'm in love with you.”

“What? No, no, no, you're not going to cheat on me,” I said, pointing at her accusingly. “You told me the other night, you said that… that you were in love…”

“Yes, with you,” (Y/N) confessed, leaving me paralyzed. “I know it sounds hasty and… well, maybe you find it hard to believe, but somehow, that day, in the church… I… I don't know, I started wondering what you were really like, what was under that black, withdrawn figure.”

“Um…”

“And then… you came into my store with that silly excuse about tea… I never thought you'd dare to approach me, I'm just a simple villager,” she said amusedly, taking a step towards me.

“You're not a simple villager,” I said confused, my hands trembling when hers intentionally brushed against them.

“And you're not a monster…” she whispered, too close to my lips. “You saved my life, remember?”

“N-No... I... I...” I stammered as her arms wrapped around my waist and her gaze deepened on mine, mesmerizing me. “You don't understand... I wanted... I wanted to hurt you...”

“You'll hurt me, Donna. You'll hurt me if you don't kiss me,” (Y/N) whispered in my ear, pulling away to let my body respond, to let me thrust desperately against her, my lips crashing onto hers.

It wasn't a tender or loving kiss; there was fury, rage, shame, and passion in my movements, in the way my mouth devoured hers. I felt her smile as she reciprocated, the wetness of her tongue brushing against mine with the same force that my hands gripped her waist, pulling her against my body.

“Ti amo..." I whispered panting, catching the breath she'd stolen from me with her kisses, declaring my love for her, confessing a love that had been killing me for too long. “Ti amo...”

(Y/N) smiled seductively, not responding with words, but with another passionate kiss, quieter, but just as effusive.

My hands went wild, wanting to touch every part of her body I'd long considered forbidden. Her dress was violated by my caresses as my legs pushed her beauty against one of the workshop walls.

“I've wanted you to be mine for so long...” I growled in her ear as my fingers grazed her breasts beneath the fabric, my nails gripping her flesh, penetrating it.

“Prove it, Donna,” she challenged me... her voice was a wet challenge as my teeth sank into her neck.

Her bare skin appeared before me like a divine gift, allowing me to lie on it, caress it, kiss it, moisten it for me, so that I could devour it. But I was too anxious to enjoy the moment. I loved her, wanted to truly love her, to sink into her body, to make her mine before she came to her senses and realized what I was doing.

I took a deep breath, looking into her shining eyes and listening to her labored breathing, and without thinking, I ripped her underwear from under her dress with a victorious, dangerous, avid gasp.

“Donna,” she protested in amusement, letting her back hit the wall as I released my quivering erection from its prison. “Calm down.”

“No... you can't ask me to calm down,” I whispered in a commanding voice as I lifted her, leaning her against the wall as I entered her carelessly, feeling that warm, wet embrace around me.

“Shit... you're big, Donna,” (Y/N) protested with a moan, closing her eyes and letting herself go, letting my cock slide through her tight walls, forcing its way into her body, into her wetness...

“You’re... mine...” I responded clumsily, thrusting into her slowly but firmly, slamming her back against the wall as I held her. She clung to my body as best she could.

“Oh, yes, yes,” she moaned as she danced up and down to the rhythm of my thrusts and my indiscreet grunts. I barely had to force myself to move her; she was light as a feather, and comfortable, warm. “Oh, Donna...”

“You're not surprised,” I said with a sinister smile, moaning with pleasure as I felt her body intensely squeezing my erection, a wet, lascivious sound adorning the moment.

“I'd... heard something about it...” she moaned, too focused on the pleasure to be rational. I didn't give that unpleasant comment much thought; I had work to do.

Laughing, reveling in our first time, in truly having her physically, in feeling myself inside her perfect body, I continued my thrusts while my lips fought to capture hers.

“Donna, Donnaah!” she cried out, ecstatic as my release flooded her, causing her body to react in kind, holding me close, milking me with lust so my seed would stay inside her.

The pleasure I felt was incomparable to any other; her body was so perfect... so wet... so much better than a stupid, used maid. I already knew I loved her, but I didn't know I could feel that way: lost, madly in love, capable of forsaking the very Gods if she asked me to.

“I hope I didn't hurt you,” I said when I caught my breath, pulling out and gathering her in my arms as I brushed her hair away from her face. “I've been wanting to do this for so long... wanting to love you...”

“I know, Donna... you were always my guardian angel.”

[poppitron360]

Star Wars was probably one of my very earliest hyperfixations so I have a lot of thoughts about this.

- Oh my gods imagine if the cinema in New Rome has a thing where they show really crappy adaptations of Grecco-roman myths (I’ve just finished watching this 80s kids anime about the Odyssey but in space and it’s so full of inaccuracies I wanted to cry).

- Leo saw them in the CORRECT order. Esperanza was RIGHT (I love her sm).

- But it’s so in-character that Jason and Reyna would want to watch it chronologically because bless their cotton socks these two babies wouldn’t know any better and would be totally oblivious that they’re committing nerd sins. (On subsequent rewatches, chronological is better, but for first watch it’s gotta be in release order. You wouldn’t tell someone who’s never seen Harry Potter to start on the Fantastic Beasts series).

- Piper is my irl friends btw. I get way too invested in nerdy arguments like this.

- And they would argue. Not only Leo but Will (who absolutely stands by the 4-5-6, 1-2-3 order) is absolutely MORTIFIED that Jason saw the PREQUELS first.

- Counterpoint- Star Wars was one of Leo’s few comforts in the foster homes and he watched the movies religiously to remind him of his mom but then he got horrifically bullied for it and stopped being able to like it after that.

- Wait the possibility of Tristan McLean being IN a Star Wars movie, the Seven being able to see the set and maybe they find out it’s real and go on adventures and omg crossover fic (probably similar to my “the Seven get hired as bodyguards for the Eras Tour” fic that is still sitting in my drafts bc I need help)

- Yes Asoka Tano for Piper and Luke Skywalker for Leo but also Cassian Andor is one of my few reminders that I still unfortunately sometimes like men so Star Wars is a disaster for any bisexual (and I believe Princess Leia in a gold bikini was a big one for a lot of people).

- Jason insisting on movie nights is so cute and he definitely invites Reyna along bc he is desperately trying to make her feel like part of the group and get her to like his friends. Also Nico and Will join in and then it basically becomes a camp-wide activity.

- Leo made a working MSE droid and you can’t convince me otherwise. Also I want one. The noises the droids make are the best vocal stims and I imitate them all the time.

- OMGS THE LEGO STAR WARS GAMES WERE PROBABLY ONE OF THE MOST DEFINING PARTS OF MY CHILDHOOD I LOVED THEM SO MUCH

- Jason and Reyna bonding over silly teen things that neither of them got a chance to do when they were both trying to run a military camp aged 15 is my favourite thing ever I love them

- Honestly I could write a fic where Will and Jason are just nerding out while shenanigans are all happening as part of the background and they’re oblivious. That is living the dream right there.

- Jason’s transformation from awkward, unsure former-soldier to precious nerd boy started when he got glasses but the glow-up has not stopped and I love that for him. Valgrace is so often characterised as the yapper x listener dynamic with Leo being the yapper and Jason being the listener but I love that they can switch every so often so that Jason can feel listened to.

I’m sorry why in the world does poor Jason not remember his own age or last name but know who Darth Vader is

[yvesssssssss]

HIII hope you’re doing great ^^ i have a request with nagumo shin natsuki and heisuke dating a kind and cute girl AND their families (idk like sakamoto, mafuyu etcetc) want to meet her and they are testing her even if she’s really kind

I love this idea so much!! I had a lot of fun writing it, but honestly, I wasn’t completely satisfied with how it turned out—so I really hope you like it! Let me know if you want any changes!

You knew dating an assassin came with challenges, but apparently, the real test was dealing with their protective families.

And today? Today, you were being evaluated.

Nagumo yoichi

I sat beside Yoichi, hands neatly folded in my lap, smiling politely despite the heavy tension in the air. Across from us, Rion Akao paced back and forth, eyes sharp as she studied me like I was a suspect in a murder case.

Taro Sakamoto sat beside her, arms crossed, unreadable as ever.

“So,” Rion finally spoke, stopping in front of me, “you’re really dating this guy?” She jabbed a finger at Yoichi, who waved lazily, grinning.

I nodded. “Mhm! Yoichi is really sweet, you know?”

Rion scoffed so hard it was almost a laugh. She turned to Sakamoto. “Did she just say something insane?”

Sakamoto let out a deep sigh.

“I mean it!” I said earnestly. “He always remembers my favorite snacks, holds my hand when I’m nervous, and—oh! One time, I was feeling down, and he spent hours making me a really cute origami bouquet!”

Nagumo smirked. “You see? I’m a romantic.”

Rion narrowed her eyes. “You’re a liar.”

I blinked. “No, he really did that.”

“He did that to mess with your head.”

I tilted my head. “But… it worked. I felt better.”

Rion groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re too nice.”

Sakamoto finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “Nagumo’s dangerous. If you’re with him, you’ll be in danger too.”

I met his gaze and nodded. “I know.”

Rion’s pacing stopped.

“Okay then,” she said slowly. “Prove it.”

Nagumo sighed. “Oh my god, you guys.”

Rion ignored him. “Let’s say Nagumo gets captured and tortured for intel. What do you do?”

I tilted my head. “Oh, I trust him. I’m sure he wouldn’t get captured.”

The room went silent.

Rion blinked at me. “…What?”

I smiled. “It’s Yoichi. If someone tried to capture him, he’d either talk his way out of it, escape before it even happened, or trick them into thinking they were the ones caught.”

Nagumo grinned. “See? She gets me.”

Rion groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my god, you’re delusional.”

Sakamoto, however, nodded slightly, as if he actually agreed with me.

“But,” I continued, “if by some impossible chance he did get captured, I’d find him and take him back.”

Rion squinted. “And if I was the one who took him?”

I smiled sweetly. “Then I’d negotiate first… and if that didn’t work, I’d take him back by force.”

Nagumo let out a low whistle. “See? Perfect.”

Rion muttered something under her breath. “…Alright, maybe you’re not as helpless as I thought.”

She crossed her arms, eyeing me up and down. “Next question. What’s the worst thing about Nagumo?”

I thought for a moment. “…Oh, that’s easy! He’s always teasing people.”

Rion huffed. “That’s the best thing you could come up with?”

“Well, I like everything else about him.”

Nagumo placed a hand over his heart. “I might cry.”

“Shut up,” Rion and Sakamoto said in unison.

Rion sighed. “Alright. Final test.”

Sakamoto pulled out a knife and slid it across the table. “If Nagumo ever betrays you, would you be able to kill him?”

The air shifted.

I picked up the knife, holding it delicately.

Nagumo watched me, relaxed as always. I met his gaze.

Then I smiled. “I trust Yoichi. If he betrayed me, he’d have a very good reason.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

Rion scoffed. “So you wouldn’t kill him?”

I tilted my head. “If he truly betrayed me… then yes, I could.”

Nagumo smirked. “She is perfect.”

Sakamoto nodded approvingly. Rion still looked suspicious, but she finally leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

“…Fine. I still think you could do better,” she muttered. “But you’re not an idiot. I respect that.”

I beamed. “Thank you!”

Rion sighed, rubbing her temples. “Whatever. You’re stuck with him now, so good luck.”

Nagumo grabbed my hand. “See? Told you they’d love you.”

Rion threw a knife at his head.

Nagumo dodged, still smirking. “Ah, classic Rion.”

Shin Asakura

Shin was nervous. Very nervous.

“Are you okay?” you asked, holding his hand as you both stood in front of the Sakamoto household.

“No,” Shin said immediately. “Lu’s involved in this, which means chaos. Hana’s unpredictable. And Sakamoto—” He inhaled. “He knows everything I’m thinking.”

The door swung open before he could knock.

Lu grinned. “You’re late.”

“We weren’t given a time—” Shin tried, but she pulled you inside.

The first test was immediate.

Hana stood in front of you, holding up a picture she very clearly drew herself. “If you don’t say my art is amazing, I’m kicking you out.”

You beamed. “This is beautiful, Hana-chan! The colors are so lively, and I can tell you put a lot of effort into it!”

Hana squinted at you. Then turned to Shin. “She’s either really nice or a liar.”

Lu leaned in. “Would you fight someone for Shin?”

You smiled softly. “I don’t like violence. But if someone tried to hurt him, I’d protect him with everything I have.”

Lu whistled. “Oh, she’s dangerous. I like her.”

Finally, Sakamoto sat across from you, silently watching.

Shin tensed. “Boss, please don’t make this scary—”

Sakamoto leaned back, satisfied. “You’re good. Shin’s lucky.”

Shin groaned. “I hate this family.”

You giggled. “I love them.”

Shin turned to you in horror.

Lu clapped his back. “Oh, you’re so doomed.”

Natsuki Seba

Natsuki underestimated how insane this was going to be.

Mafuyu, his younger brother, had immediately dragged you away the second you entered the Seba household.

“I need to test if you’re worthy of my brother,” Mafuyu said seriously. “If you fail, I’ll make him break up with you.”

Natsuki groaned. “Mafuyu, seriously—”

“Silence, loser,” Mafuyu said, then turned back to you. “First question. If you were a fish, what fish would you be?”

You blinked. “Oh! A clownfish, maybe? They seem friendly.”

Mafuyu hummed. “Acceptable. Next. You’re in the middle of a battle. You have one weapon. What do you choose?”

“I… don’t like fighting,” you admitted.

Mafuyu narrowed his eyes. “Trick question. The correct answer is ‘Natsuki.’”

Natsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re so weird.”

Mafuyu ignored him. “Final question. Do you think my brother is cool?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

Mafuyu gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. She’s delusional.”

Natsuki groaned. “That’s enough, Mafuyu—”

Mafuyu crossed his arms. “Fine. You pass.”

Natsuki blinked. “Wait, what?”

Mafuyu shrugged. “She’s obviously nice, and she likes you even though you’re lame. That means she’s loyal.”

Natsuki narrowed his eyes. “I feel very insulted, but I’ll take it.”

Mafuyu nodded. “You have my blessing.”

Natsuki sighed. “Great. Now never talk to my girlfriend again.”

Mafuyu smirked. “Absolutely not.”

Heisuke Mashimo

Heisuke’s “family” was basically just Sakamoto, Shin, Lu, and Hana, and they immediately went feral with their tests.

Sakamoto just stared at you for a while, then nodded. “Alright. You pass.”

Shin and Lu immediately protested.

“No,” Shin said. “She has to prove she can handle Heisuke’s stupidity.”

You blinked. “He’s not stupid, though.”

Silence.

Lu slowly turned to Heisuke. “You brainwashed her.”

Heisuke pouted. “I did not.”

Shin crossed his arms. “Alright. If Heisuke had to snipe something and missed, what would you do?”

You smiled sweetly. “I’d tell him he did his best and that I believe in him.”

Shin and Lu exchanged horrified glances.

“Oh god,” Lu whispered. “She’s an enabler.”

Heisuke grinned. “I love her.”

Sakamoto sighed. “She’s fine. Let them be.”

Lu groaned. “Fine. But if they end up married, I want a separate house far away from the secondhand embarrassment.”

Heisuke just hugged you, grinning. “I knew they’d love you!”

Shin put his head in his hands. “I need a drink.”

Gaku

Gaku didn’t even try to stop Kumanomi.

“I mean, if she can’t survive you, she probably can’t survive me either,” he reasoned, hands in his pockets.

You just tilted your head, smiling sweetly at Kumanomi. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Kumanomi smirked. “We’ll see about that. Sit.”

You obediently took a seat. Gaku leaned against the wall, watching like this was a free show.

Kumanomi pulled out a piece of paper. “Alright, sweetheart. First question: If Gaku loses a fight, what do you do?”

You blinked. “Oh! I’d help him up and tell him he did great.”

Gaku snorted. “Baby. I don’t lose.”

Kumanomi ignored him. “Second question: If you had to fight Gaku, what’s your strategy?”

You thought for a moment. “Um… Distract him with a video game and then run?”

Gaku threw his head back laughing. “That’s actually so smart—”

Kumanomi narrowed her eyes. “Interesting. Third question: Do you think Gaku is intelligent?”

You nodded earnestly. “Of course!”

Kumanomi stared at you like you’d grown three heads. “Oh my god. You’re delusional.”

Gaku burst out laughing. “She likes me, Kumanomi. Of course she’s a little insane.”

Kumanomi sighed. “Final question. If someone flirts with Gaku, what do you do?”

You blinked, then smiled. “I’d probably just hold his hand and remind them he’s taken.”

Gaku grinned. “Aww, babe—”

Kumanomi smirked. “Wrong answer. You fight them.”

Your smile wavered. “But I don’t like fighting…”

Kumanomi nodded solemnly. “That’s okay. I’ll teach you.”

Gaku grinned. “Wait. This means she passes, right?”

Kumanomi rolled her eyes. “She’s too nice for you, but whatever. She’s cute. I’ll allow it.”

Gaku whooped, throwing an arm around you. “Hell yeah, my girl’s approved!”

Kumanomi sighed. “Just don’t get her arrested.”

Gaku smirked. “No promises.”

[aidensolas]

DAY BY DAY - A Forsaken Fic (2)

Summary of the last chapter: Finding a new game called forsaken you decided to try it out to escape your boring life only for one day a bit too many bugs happened in one singular day.

Well, I lost to my demons that promised me a two time plushy... so here it is....

Waking up has always been something you've never appreciated.

Opening your eyes to the same thing every day makes you less eager to wake up in the first place, where's the variety? The fun? Apparently, it's nowhere you've always been doomed to be in the grasps of a hellish fate. Oh well. Nothing you can do instead just to go day by day in the same process. Well, is it time to finally wake up to something different? Good or bad it doesn't matter right? It's time to face reality, so open your eyes. 'Time to face the hell you've been convicted to.'

Gasping as you immediately prompt your body up you touch your heart as if you can still feel the pain. You're not dead, are you? You remain on the ground as you hold yourself pondering but immediately you notice the clothes you were wearing before are gone instead replaced by something else. You immediately check your surroundings but all you can see is trees and nothing else... Struggling to stand up you find your footing only to fall down again. Wow feeling your heart like it's being ripped to shreds is NOT good for your mental and physical stability. You try once more wobbling as you use a tree as a crutch to stand up properly you see a simple path laid out Infront of you... Wait this isn't a dream, is it? You pinch yourself to wince from the pain.

....

....

Nope.

'Where the hell am I?' you ask yourself as you began to slowly walk down the path, you've always been an overthinker despite not remembering what you used to mull over so right now you're pretty nervous, scared, and probably going to die!

The only thing you can remember is falling over your table as you felt your world end but hey who are you to complain? You're still alive and well maybe this is one of those trials you have to face before you can get into heaven and you're at least hoping heaven has some gosh darn good food to compensate the pain you've felt or if there is any heaven anyway... Keeping your mind open you venture on! Taking a big step onwards to something new is always fun! Is what you'd like to think if you didn't feel so shit, 'The feeling of wanting to curl up and die is looking pretty good right now.' you thought as you sighed your head aching a bit. You keep thinking how you got into this situation as you kept walking in silence you came across a small pond enough for you to see your reflection, you think back to how these aren't your clothes though they look a tad bit familiar in some sort of way?

You take another look at your clothes and decided to look at the pond in order to see your reflection, as you take a small glance at the pond and looked at the wavy reflection it greeted you with. It's still you always have been you except for the fact you look exactly the same as your Roblox avatar. (Sorry not sorry to anyone with silly avatars.) Okay now you don't know whether to be terrified or amazed on one hand your minds doing imaginary backflips on thinking how you look so cool 'Wait if I'm wearing my Roblox avatar does that mean...' on the other hand you're terrified of what this could entail so as any good person would do when faced with adversity... You turned your brain off and decided 'Yep this is my life now better than what it was before at least.' You started to follow the path Infront of you once more with a muddled mind.

Somewhere Else

As Elliot hit the ground of the cabin with an audible thud he looked around in worry, distraught, confusion and fear, he held his hair as he sighed in relief to see it was his just his room, the relief didn't last long as his door opened with a loud bam, he turned to see it was Chance "Eli- Kid! Are you alright? A match seemed to have started randomly, and you were the only one who seemed to have gotten taken which is-" he stopped talking as he saw how badly wounded Elliot as he was bleeding from all places his face seemed to have been hit the most as it was covered it blood. "Crap let me go find you a medkit." Before Chance could scramble out of Elliot's room, Elliot immediately stood up but immediately fell over which Chance took to his aid to help him up and onto his bed.

"Kid I know what you're about to say and let me first tell you that you're our healer and if you're not in tippy top shape how will that look for us in future matches?" Chance said as he laid Elliot down onto own bed where Elliot replied with "I... was going to tell you to let me apply the medkit myself... Anyways where are the others? Are they alright?" Chance looked embarrassed for a bit then sighed "I.. I totally knew that! As for the others they're doing quite fine, they're all worried about you... So, What happened exactly?" Chance asked Elliot as another person appeared from the door which seemed to be Two time holding a medkit "I heard murmurs which pertained to Elliot being injured, so I brought a medkit." Two time promptly put the medkit down beside Chance then left the room in a quick manner "See! Even the uh.. crazy cult awkward guy is worried about you!" Chance said with a slight chuckle as he started to apply the medkit onto Elliot's wounds which Elliot stayed absolutely silent during the duration of.

As the process of applying the medkit was being finished Chance spoke up once more "So are we going talk about it?" Elliot looked into Chance's sunglasses as he shook his head slowly "It's not that.. I don't want to talk about it's more like I can't... Remember? My memory is a bit hazy all I remember is that 1x and I... Wait yeah! I was with someone... Yeah.. I can't remember them at all it's all so blurry and I was in pain s-" Elliot started to ramble, but Chance cut him off "I understand." Elliot looked relieved and slumped his body against the frame of the bed. Chance finished patching him up as he prepared to leave before he could Elliot spoke up once more "Hey Chance.. Thanks." Chance looked back and smiled at him adjusting his hat "No problem kid gotta repay you for all the times you've saved me out there huh?" as he closed the door to Elliot's room.

Chance after closing the door immediately descended the stairs meeting up with Builderman and Guest who were talking on a nearby table, noticing Chance Guest started the conversation "I heard Elliot's been roughed up pretty badly from Two Time he went to come asking me for a medkit, that guy's never been the one to seek initiative about something so it's gotta be bad. Anything noteworthy that happened to him he got us all worried when we realized he went solo in on a match."

Chance flipped a coin as it was always his habit to do so when he's bothered by something "He didn't go Solo, apparently someone else was with him.. I don't know who, but he can't remember it clearly he looked pained when he attempted to do so, so I couldn't ask him for more information." Builderman who was staying relatively silent spoke up "A new person? Wouldn't they be granted a survivor room in advance? If so, they'd be also relatively near the cabins unless they came in from the outer borders."

Chance whistled as he flipped his coin once more landing on heads "Well are the others informed about this?" Builderman shook his head "Some but not all wouldn't want Noob to be scared about him going solo in a round, would be catastrophic thinking about it considering we barely got him to leave his room back then when he first came here..." Guest sighed as he stood up from his seat "Guess I'll go check on Elliot to make sure he's okay I'll be right back." As Guest he started to ascend the stairs Builderman called out "As you're doing so tell Shedletsky in his room to come and out and do the dishes it's his time of the week!" To which guest replied to a thumbs up before dissapearing out of their vision.

"So, regarding the new person..." Before Builderman could elaborate more Chance already replied "Yeah yeah... if you see the kid come down tell him to keep safe, okay? It might be wishful thinking but whatever keeps us afloat, no?" Builderman looks at chance for a moment before he acknowledges the answer while picking up a metal gear component "Gotcha.. I'll come follow suit after I'm done with some stuff alright?" Chance nodded lightly as he left the front door taking a look at the night sky and looking back at the forest "What exactly happened in that match?"

Back to you!

Okay so you've been walking for a good well you don't exactly know how long but you've been walking for a good amount that your legs start to feel like detaching itself from your body. "How long is this damned path!?" You say as you voiced out your own frustration as you continued to walk upon the straight path one thing you noticed is that the path seems to become increasingly narrow as the more you moved on as it becomes clear that the path does have an end! You reach somewhere (finally) seemingly the side of a dock area you decided to rest and sit upon the wooden planks on the docks as you pondered what exactly is the end goal here for walking anyway the more you thought about it the more you confused you get so you just decided to let life take its course and live it up to fate! (Wow.) You slowly tapped your hands onto the water as you felt bored and have nothing better to do but as you look to turn around and explore more you were faced with a giant blue pumpkin with a carved face that seemed to be illuminating a bright light "It seems like destiny has been cruel to you as well, no?" Your mind began to buffer as you registered what was happening before screaming in terror and funnily enough falling into the water as you lost your balance.

"Oh my."

Preferably not dying from the lack of sleep as well.

Small things to note:

I'm very sleepy. I had to rewrite this 3 times to finally come with something I'm satisfied of putting out even though I still think it could have been done in a better way but here we are! No use in blaming myself now just hope I roll all heads.

Another thing is the reader may look nonchalant or appear happy within the story for the first chapters because they still haven't realized the gravity of the situation, they are in incase anyone's wondering

Tag List (is this how you do it...)

@yukinaabutlazy - I had to follow you for it to work pls haha PLS WORK

[the more people ask of me to do something Tumblr related the more I know so don't be scared!]

[fuumiku]

Demon AU (krkb)

+ bonus Kuro

Kurokabuuu!! If Kabru gets to be naked then so does Kuro, equality for all 🔥Not to break the mystique but in that intro comic Kuro isn't flexing he's just pushing Mickbell away bc he about to be in business mode gdbdg. Was weird trying to make Kuro look more demony, did not work very well except for making him buffer but hey...! A black dog demon yeah yeah yeah...!

I have accidentally recreated Howl's Moving Castle... NOW HEAR ME OUT- The base concept for my satyr Kabru AU (the initial idea was the sketch where he has no horns haha) now turned demon AU was materializing Kabru's fear of anything monster, particularly his insecurity as a kid of being an incubus('s child and that making him a monster), and helping him work through it so he can love himself and others and the world better, but everything started clicking only after thinking about Kuro's role in the setting more. He's this feared dude with a witchy reputation and a lil rhyme about how everyone should stay away from him for their own sake etc etc, but he's not a demon just a dog dude really. The setting in this AU is much like Dunmeshi, but all monsters are called "demons" instead and tied with this concept of demonic not just monstrous, there's special generalized fear in them being kinda fundamentally evil. But they're just beasts, and sometimes just demihuman races, like Kuro. Magic does exist though, and curses, and yeah just a folk kinda vibe!

Kabru because he's become supernatural knows how to speak Kuro's tongue now too, or maybe he's always known it idk... But Kabru sought Kuro out because he's The demon guy around, thought if anyone around would know how to do anything about his having become a monster it'd be him- Mickbell is there too ig like waaa this innocent-looking (def isn't) human loves this demon and lives with him, alone but peaceful as hermits in the woods? Wah wild. Wah we can still have love?? Wah we can fall in love together and live happy monster lives even if ostracized??! Wah wait I'm not even a monster it was just my own latent magical powers cursing myself because I worried and believed myself to be a demon so intensely for so long?!! Wah we can truly have it all...... Growth feels so nice. Except Mickbell, that grown ass man is not finding inner peace yet. Still he's chill here since he's a side char not a main one

It's how Kuro's confident in himself despite everything being stacked against him, it's how he still trusts and likes himself, it's how he just wants a simple happy life and pursues what he wants, it's how he takes things simply... Self-critical Kabru always neglecting himself over obsessing about the greater good could learn from him........ Kuro is the only one after his transformation that unconditionally welcomes him and shows him compassion and it's all so confusing to him, especially since at first Kabru wouldn't even offer that same humanization to Kuro, only risked it out of necessity for his own circumstances, but he gradually becomes able to see the humanity in him despite his appearance, mannerisms, way of life and ideals, until he sees the humanity in him and himself too despite their appearances, until he finds there's nothing wrong in this routine and life of theirs in this isolated magical little place, until........... Just about accepting all of those fuzzy inbetween ways to be that are unclean and hard to understand from the outside, and growing comfortable in them and loving himself and kuro and the life they've made together.......!!!!!! What if through humanizing you I humanized myself... What if through growing a understanding for each other wevalidated ourselves, love as self-love...

I love including Rin into things, for a more plotty story it'd be neat if she tried and followed Kabru... He up and disappeared and she's a capable mage and she doesn't know what his plan was because he never tells her anything so she goes out and pursues him- Could even be the main antagonist besides just idk self-hate and townspeople lol, like she thinks Kuro is keeping him prisoner or something and also because she kinda represents the same kinda social trauma Kabru has, where she's strict about conforming and being an irreproachable undeniable human so she kind of wants to drag him back to that state he was in of anxiety over acting and being human enough...... But of course in the ultimate confrontation when she has her staff pointed at Kuro and they talk, she's hurt by him not confiding in her and thinking of her as someone who wouldn't help, but she understands and stops and yay happy ending :> And if we want them to be in this Holm and Dia may be allies I feel 🤔Like maybe they help out Kabru when they see him, help him escape their human village at one point or something, Holm is quite nice and cares for spirits and Dia's fled her home too so they kinda get it in a way, it'd contrast Rin... This isn't about the Laios party lol. Rin & Mickbell shenanigans would lowkey be fun like maybe Mickbell tricks Rin into thinking Kabru IS there against his will so she can take him away and the status quo of Mickbell not having to share Kuro with anyone is preserved, or maybe they just shittalk and grumble together. Gbdgd this is a plotline about accepting change and these two are noooot happy about it

So yeah he hates being a monster that's the schtick!! Won't a cool dog man pleaseeee turn me human again. Surely he can do that right. So he goes to live with this feared coolass magicky guy and that guy's little guy at his weird home and through making connections and self-love the curse you actually unknowingly put on yourself gradually lessens and disappears, but you don't care anymore because that's the point 😌 Which is why I call it a Howl's Moving Castle recolor gdbd

Kabru is usually the voice of reason within kurokabu so it's really fun switching the roles in that way. If you're just stumbling into this and are sooo confused first of all congrats on getting so far second I can't overstate how unironic this is + if you want more explanation about the ship I made a brainstormy manifesto here <3 Like, did you know Kuro's name is actually Yodan? He was likely called Kuro by Mickbell due to the language barrier. In this AU it's because no one's interested in him as a person so people just give him an ominous title that means black. But Kabru learning his name and Kuro willingly giving away that information and Kabru feeling the weight of it because he really thinks this'd allow him to control him (he can't actually control bc he's not a demon! No one's a demon yay! Just weirdo humans who get otherized)......

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

Other vers because I 1) really like it and 2) am very indecisive. I overthink every single slight color change I stg lol

Sigh....... Like bro what if we were both so so far away from home and we knew we can't really go back and we've made our peace with that but man I miss not having been ripped away from my homeland and we are both so so isolated in our own ways in our presents and with a small yet gigantic gesture of compassion and of seeing each other we can learn and grow together with secret study dates where I teach you how to communicate the same way you're teaching me your language, we are both reaching across to each other we are both finding in one another a presence and humanity that feels so rare anywhere else. A sliver of warmth a sliver of home but also a sliver of the new, and embracing that things are changing and that we've changed and wow the animality within humanity and the humanity within animality!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey bro your humanity I am only now fully grasping and coming to terms with is so hot bro............ What if your beastly features ended up making me more comfortable in my own stinky human animal flawedness bro........ What if we could just be together reassured through each other that we're human enough no matter what and that's all we need to just be and wahhhhh aughhhhh

Kurokabu is Kuro needing to choose between Kuro and Yodan. Kurokabu is needing to feel comfortable in animality within humanity. What if we stopped repressing ourselves 🫶