#sobbing and crying on the floor in the lab

[fatuismooches]

Angst idea for fragile reader who is losing memory: they start recording with a Kamera to document their memories

A recording of reader giving a basic run-down of everything, their relationships, hobbies, past, etc. A summarisation of who they were for their future amnesiac self

Zandik finds the Kamera, and the first recording is reader bidding their future self to *please* not be scared of Dottore and his segments. They are trying their best, and showing fear to them will sadden them, especially tiny Zandy

(x, x, x) Despite your failing memory, you still remember the day Dottore introduced the Kamera to you. You were so fascinated by it, enthralled with the idea that memories could be recorded and eternally preserved. So you always made it a habit to take pictures of everything and anything. However, you could have never expected you to use the Kamera in such a way. A message to your future self, because you could only imagine how lost and confused you'd be, waking up in a place like this with people like Dottore. You speak about anything and everything, nothing is too small, not when you're going to forget about it. You recount exactly how you fell in love with him in the Akademiya, your relationship, the segments, dynamics, a bunch of info on each of them, yourself, what you like, how future you will probably be extremely distressed and confused about everything.

But all you say is that they truly do love you, they want to help you, and despite the kind of people they are and what they do, you love them too. They'll probably scare you sometimes, and freak you out, but they love you. And you hope that future you can see that.

You plead to your future self, at the very least, leave Zandy out of it. He is but a child, who has nothing but warmth and love for you. At least try to return the feeling to him, and don't shun him when he seeks you out...

[frosnpls]

.

[buckyalpine]

You know what I was thinking of all day? Comforting our sad baby Bucky who just wants a hug. He's tired from a bad mission. His body aches. He saw things he didn't want to. He could really just use something.

Even just a smile?

He doesn't have a lot of friends and most people around the compound outside of the team avoid him. Even those who'd worked with him for ages were still wary, scared he'd snap if they just asked how he's doing. He would have liked it, even just a hello in passing. When he walks by with a scowl on his face, no one meets his eye. If they did, they would have seen the storm that was brewing inside was not an angry one.

He just needed to be held.

When he continues to make his way towards his room, he's given a few nods from a couple of teammates but he knows they're doing it while holding their breath. He reaches his room and the damn is about to break, he hasn't been held in years, he feels so cold and empty, was he really so terrifying, no one would-

"Sergeant Barnes?"

A gentle voice calls for him, forcing him to swallow the lump in his throat. He knows that voice, mustering his best smile as he turns around to find Tony's lab assistant with a cup of chamomile tea in his mug and a file with the mission report he was supposed to fill out.

"Everyone's filling their reports in the conference room, I figured you'd rather have some privacy so I thought I'd bring it to you" You give him the same warm smile you grace everyone with, handing him the steaming cup, "and of course, your favourite"

It's too much. Normally it wouldn't be but he's never given such kindness but he always gets it from you. You're so unbelievably affectionate to everyone and he really doesn't feel worthy but today he needs it so he graciously accepts the tea and file with a soft thank you.

"and call me Bucky, doll"

You stiffen at the slight crack in his voice, frowning when he keeps his eyes trained to the floor. It wasn't unusual for Bucky to keep to himself but you catch his reddened nose and glassy baby blues and it breaks your heart.

He opens the door to enter his room ready to drown in a lonely storm when that voice calls again. Surely he was dreaming. He sets down his things, turning to find you still at his door.

"Bucky?" You enter his room, standing before him when he doesn't ask you to leave, "Are you okay?"

He doesn't trust himself, nodding and desperately blinking back tears. He wished you'd leave, he wished you'd stay, he wished he could just tell you what he needed, his hands fisted into balls by his side, he should just suck it up, what was he expecting-

"Come here" You whisper, your hand coming to cradle the back of his head, bringing it to rest into your neck where he can let go, your arms wrapping around his body.

Bucky doesn't get a chance to realize what's happening because as soon as he feels your touch the first sob escapes. He's hidden himself away in your hold, his tears wetting your skin with no remorse. He clings onto you like a lifeline while you coo and comfort him, playing with his hair and rubbing his back.

You don't let go, allowing him to cry for as long as he needs. Even after his cries turn into sniffles, you comfort him, pressing a kiss to his temple while he holds you extra tight.

When he's finally ready to let go, albeit reluctantly, he's instantly shused from trying to apologize. You don't ask questions asking what happened or why he was upset. It really didn't matter. You just knew. Bucky whispers a thank you, making a mental note to get you some flowers to properly showed you how much he appreciated it.

Of course you'd always just know when he needed it so he'd thank you again with coffee.

Dinner.

Dinner again.

Eventually, a ring.

You always knew what he needed.

A hug.

That was all.

[liketolaugh-writes]

Thinking about a full ghost Danny AU where he just straight-up dies in the portal. I think there should be more of those. <3

Character death, obviously.

------------

The drive back to Fentonworks was a blur in Maddie's memory, keeping Tucker on the line while he sobbed and stammered, trying and failing to keep himself together and explain what happened.

"-doesn't h-have a heartbeat and he's f-freaking out-"

"It just turned on, we don't know w-what happened, he, he said it didn't work-"

"-trying to keep Danny c-calm-"

"Please come home."

Jack's driving was even worse than usual, veering through the streets in an undisguised panic. Maddie hadn't been able to discern much from Tucker's ramble; the portal had finally turned on, but the kids had been messing around with it and Danny had gotten hurt. How hurt? Tucker didn't seem to be sure, but all three of them were in a state.

Jack pulled into their driveway and flung himself out, half the GAV still sprawled across the sidewalk. Maddie was right behind him, hanging up on Tucker with a quick assurance that they'd be right there.

"DANNY!" Jack yelled.

"In here!" Sam called back, from the open lab door. Of course.

Maddie slipped past Jack and got there first, almost falling down the stairs in her haste. What she saw there made her heart stop.

Danny wasn't there. There were three teens crumpled on the ground in front of the activated portal (a part of her sang, it worked, it worked) but Danny wasn't one of them. There was Tucker, staring blankly at the floor, and Sam, with her arm around a strange, glowing white-haired boy that was in tears - a ghost. A ghost? A ghost!

"GHOST!" Jack yelled in delight. The teen sobbed harder.

"Where's Danny?" Maddie demanded. Sam looked up sharply, her eyes wide like Maddie had never seen, her face dead pale under her makeup.

"I'm sorry!" Sam blurted out, looking nearly in tears herself. "I just, I, I thought it would be cool, it was just a picture, I, I didn't think-"

Maddie's heart skipped a beat. "Sam. Where is Danny?"

Sam looked at the crying boy next to her, huddled under her arm as if for comfort. The boy looked up, radioactive eyes swimming with tears and the water on his skin sparkling prismatically, and met Maddie's eyes.

"Mom," he croaked, his voice tripled and echoing with itself like a movie memory. "What happened to me?"

Maddie's knees gave out, and she crumpled to the floor, unable to take her eyes from the ghost in front of her. In a moment, she understood.

That was Danny. His colors had partially inverted, his hair turning white, the colors of his haz-mat suit - God, that was his haz-mat suit, the one they'd made for him and that he never used - reversing to white-on-black. He'd huddled into Sam, shaking and gasping, but now was pulling away, looking at Maddie like- like he thought she could fix this.

"I think something's wrong," Danny said, his voice trembling somewhere underneath all the alien reverberation. "Should we go to the hospital or, or something?"

"I don't think the hospital can fix this, man," Tucker said weakly, lifting his head just to stare at Danny.

The portal powered down with a whine. Maddie jerked her head up with a gasp, and found Jack at the control box, backing up silently. Jack stared into the portal. Maddie followed his gaze.

She couldn't stop the scream that tore itself from her throat. Jack yelled too, running inside, tripping over the bundled cables, and collapsing unceremoniously short of the body inside. Careless of that, Jack crawled forward the last few feet, scooped up the body, and then started to sob, cradling Danny's burnt and blistered corpse against him.

"...Do we call 911?" Danny asked, voice cracking. Maddie's head snapped back to him from the corpse, watching him stare in bleak, lost confusion at his father and the body he was hugging.

Danny didn't even believe in ghosts. Neither of their kids hid it, treating their profession with a lighthearted exasperation at home and plain embarrassment outside. Somehow, the fact made all of this worse.

"What's happening?" Danny asked helplessly. Shock, the stable part of Maddie's brain told her. He sees what's going on but his mind won't comprehend it. (He wasn't expecting to die today.)

"Y-yes," Maddie said at last, and then forced her voice to stabilize. "I'll... I'll call 911."

But first, she held out her arms, and Danny all but scrambled across the room to throw himself into her arms, still shaking. He was cold as ice, freezing through her haz-mat suit, and that was before he slipped forward with a yelp and tumbled through her. He scrambled back with a cry and tried again, and this time fell solidly against her, hiccupping. She wrapped an arm around him, shushing him softly, and groped for her phone with the other hand. She couldn't take her eyes off Jack, now carrying Danny out of the portal and staring from his corpse to his ghost, looking shattered.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My son is dead," Maddie heard herself say. Danny hiccupped and clutched at her tighter. There was a brief pause.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am. Where are you? Have you checked his pulse?"

"We're at the Fentonworks building, 18701 northwest..." She rattled off the address mindlessly, and reached down to fumble for Danny's wrist. He let her have it without complaint, too terrified to put up any resistance. She shuddered as she felt nothing, not even the tendons or bone that should be there. Then she looked up at the corpse in Jack's arms and swallowed. "Jack, h-his... his pulse."

Jack nodded mutely and fumbled for Danny's wrist, gingerly running his fingers down the burnt skin until he found the right spot.

"What do you mean, his pulse, his ghost is literally in your lap!" Sam half-shrieked, her mascara running and her fists clenched against her cheeks, her breath coming in short gasps.

"No pulse," Jack croaked hollowly, staring at Danny's ghost.

"Maybe they could..." No, it was a foolish thought, and she wouldn't put false hopes into Danny's head just to put off her own grief. She cradled him closer again, feeling him shudder. She spoke to the operator. "N-no pulse, ma'am."

"Ambulance and police are on their way," the operator said, calm and reassuring. "Can you stay on the line with me?"

"Yes." Maddie felt numb, her own hands trembling as she held Danny close.

"Thank you. Can you tell me your name? Is there anyone else with you?"

"Maddie Fenton," she said. "My husband is with me, and my son's two friends, and... and my son's ghost."

There was another brief pause.

"Alright, Maddie." Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought the operator sounded gentler there. They thought she was crazy, of course. Maddie shut her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I, I don't know. My son Danny was home with his friends, and they called and..." Deep breath. She started over. "There was an accident in our lab. Danny was electrocuted by one of our in-progress projects."

"Is the device still on?"

"No, ma'am. We had to turn it off to remove the, the body."

Maddie continued answering questions on autopilot, most of her attention on her son, her husband, and the body. Danny had stopped crying, but remained glued to her side, shivering and sniffling. Jack continued to cradle Danny's body, but his eyes were now fixed on Danny, grief spread across his face. Sam and Tucker had both quieted, watching them with fearful, guilt-stricken looks.

It seemed to take forever for the police and ambulance to arrive. Sam got up to show them inside without being asked, staggering up to steps on obviously shaky legs. Maddie was too grateful to insist on her or Jack doing it; with Danny's ghost cradled against her and his corpse in Jack's arms, well...

The paramedics arrived first, sharp-eyed and professional, but the first almost immediately faltered as he laid eyes on the scene. But Jack held up Danny's body beseechingly, his eyes wet and miserable, and they jolted into action.

"Thank you, ma'am," Maddie said to the woman on the line. "They're here now. May I hang up?"

"Yes. The paramedics will take it from here. Take care, Maddie."

Maddie hung up, and looked at the two paramedics as they filed down. They looked at each other, one inclined his head toward Danny, and they split up, one heading for Jack and the body, the other toward Maddie and the ghost. Both of them knelt beside their chosen patient, and Maddie fixed her attention on the one with her.

"Are you Danny?" the paramedic asked, unexpectedly gentle. Danny peeked up and nodded uncertainly, and the paramedic glanced at the body before seeming to make a decision. "Okay, Danny. My coworker June is going to check your body for signs of life to see if you can still be revived. Are you okay with that?" Danny hiccupped and nodded, though a new wave of tears welled up and trickled down his cheeks. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Danny hiccupped again, reaching up to wipe his eyes. "M-my friends wanted to see the p-portal," he managed, voice wavering. Maddie squeezed him, her own eyes welling up while the paramedic listened patiently. "A-and it didn't work so I t-thought it would be f-fine. I went inside a-and I d-didn't check if it was plugged in or anything, a-and then I tripped and fell and I think I hit a button and it turned on!" His voice rose until he was almost wailing. Maddie's throat tightened, and she hugged him closer. Her poor baby.

"You were electrocuted?" the paramedic checked softly.

"I guess," Danny sniffled. "I dunno. It just hurt. And then I felt really cold, and then I..." He looked down at himself and sniffled again, tears slipping nonstop down his cheeks. "Am I dead?"

The paramedic looked at his coworker, who met his eyes and shook her head. Maddie had to swallow a hiccup of her own, trying to be brave for her terrified son. The paramedic did a much better job at it, looking back at Danny and speaking gently.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "There's nothing we can do. June is going to call a coroner and explain the situation-" He caught the other paramedic's eye, and she gave him a nod. "-and we'll have your body taken somewhere it can be prepared for burial or cremation, whichever you prefer." Danny started crying again, and the paramedic exhaled and looked up to meet Maddie's eyes. "Obviously, there's no protocols for this situation. But, as his mother, I think it would still be appropriate for you to make a decision if he doesn't feel able to."

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - nsfw, physical/psychological abuse, wildly unhealthy relationship dynamics, and derogatory language.

Most days, Bailey struggles to decide whether you're an idiot or a masochist.

He’s leaning towards the former, but it wouldn’t take much to sway him towards the latter. That doesn’t make you special on its own, though – no, most of the stupid brats in his orphanage have shit for brains and the survival instincts of pre-splattered roadkill, but you manage to make your peers look like shining pillars of intelligence and caution and all the good, important, necessary traits that you were tragic enough to be born without. If he didn’t know better, he might think that you’re doing it on purpose, that your behavior is just the product of some misplaced cry for attention. You should count yourself lucky that he’s a hell of a lot smarter than you’ll ever be.

He should’ve gotten rid of you the first time you failed to pay your rent. He should’ve, and he tried to – selling you off to the highest bidder, leaving you blindfolded in alleyways and restrained on the edge of town, but like a beaten dog too stupid to acknowledge that its master left it for dead, you always seem to drag yourself back, always bruised, most often bloody, and occasionally soaking wet. More than once, you haven’t made it all the way back, and he’s had to go out of his way to pick up ‘his precious ward’ from the intensive care unit at Harper’s request. He would leave you there, if he thought his reputation would survive giving that freak of a doctor a free lab rat.

 You can’t hold down a job. That part, he can’t entirely blame on you. If going outside is risky, then trying to earn a living is all-but a death sentence in a town like this. He knows you have a few minor gigs, pick up odd jobs every now-and-then around the wealthier neighborhoods, but it’s never more than petty cash, and having to watch you drag yourself through the orphanage halls with torn clothes and that distant, glazed-over look in your eyes almost makes what little rent money you can scrap up not worth it. You’re wary enough to keep your head down in school, so you don’t have a lot of friends, either. Most of your time is spent at home; toiling in your weed-infested garden, trying to pretend you aren’t hiding in your room, and when he lets you, curling up in the smallest, darkest corner of his office – your legs pulled into your chair and your eyes fixed on the floor. He asked, once, why you thought you had to waste your time sulking in his peripheral like some poor, attention-starving kitten. Despite help from the better half of a bottle from his vintage stash, he can still remember your answer.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, with a smile so delicate, he was almost tempted to see how easily it shattered. “I guess I just feel safe around you.”

He stopped asking for rent, after that.

He tries not to think about you. It’s a constant effort, but he tries the hardest when he’s standing in your doorway hours after midnight, fucking his fist as you pretend to sleep less than a full ten feet away. He still hasn’t made up his mind about the masochist part, but you have to be an idiot. A pretty, empty-headed idiot.

His pretty, empty-headed idiot.

He decides, as he finishes to the sound of your muffled sobbing, that he’ll soak it in while he can. Even if he does his best, even if he keeps his distance, even if you never come to your senses and run far, faraway, he knows he won’t have long left to enjoy this.

He knows that, no matter how hard he tries to hold himself back, you’re not going to feel very safe around him for much longer.

[another-random-fanfic-blog]

Fates Entwined

Warnings: 18+ , mentions of sexual assault, abuse, death

Summary: You rescues 8 hybrids that are about to die.

word count: 7099

Masterlist

Next Chapter

The shelter workers dragged the beaten, bloodied, and half-conscious hybrid to a cell room, throwing him on the floor in front of 7 other hybrids.

"This was the third time he was returned," sneered the worker with greasy slick-backed hair, "that means he gets put down tomorrow. If you 7 don't agree to be adopted separately, you'll be joining him."

The shelter worker walked out of the room, slamming and locking the door while whistling cheerfully as he walked away. Meanwhile, the other 7 hybrids crowded around their friend on the floor, Seonghwa carefully lifting his head to place in his lap.

"Sannie," Wooyoung cries out, holding San's hand.

"Sannie, what happened?" Hongjoong asks, rubbing Sans arm gently.

"It was a hybrid fighting ring," San cries, refusing to open his eyes, not that he could open both, considering one his right eye was swollen shut, "I couldn't kill the other hybrids like they wanted, I'm sorry."

"It’s ok, Sannie," Yunho replies calmly.

"It's not ok, now they're going to kill you with me." San sobs uncontrollably, barely able to get the next words out, "I don't want you to die too."

"It's ok, San," Seonghwa whispers while cradling the crying man's head, not letting anyone see the tears spill from his own eyes. "Everything will work out, you'll see. We'll be ok."

The 8 hybrids stayed huddled together for a few minutes before they move to their beds, which were nothing more than flimsy blankets filled with holes. Slowly, one by one, they each begin to fall asleep, the younger 4 crying themselves to sleep while they older 4 held in their tears, too on edge to let themselves fall asleep, they flinch at every sound coming through the facility. When they heard two sets of footstep coming towards their cage, Yeosang tightens his hold on Jongho and Wooyoung while Seonghwa held San, and Yunho cradle Mingi, Hongjoong moves to sit in front of everyone, trying to block them from the view of whoever was approaching, with his small body.

Two workers appeare in front of the cage, the greasy haired employee named Mike, and the employee with yellow teeth, missing his front one, called Carl. They enjoyed spending their time harassing the hybrids in the shelter, but their favorite targets were the group of 8. Mike stood by the door smirking as he looked over the huddled hybrids.

“Up front now!” Mike demands. Causing all 8 to jump and slowly line up by the door, kneeling on the ground. “I have some good news, we found homes for all of you, except San, he dies in the morning, no exception, but if you agree, you all get to live.”

“Seonghwa gets to go to a nice breeding farm or a brothel, we will let you pick,” Carl laughs as he reads off a paper, meanwhile Seonghwa grips his thighs tightly, holding back tears. “Yeosang will be going to the brothel, Ming and Yunho will be working in the mines to test for gas build up, Wooyoung, Jongho, and Hongjoong will be sent to medical labs as test subjects for new medications or some shit like that.”

“You hear that Seonghwa,” Mike says leaning down in front of the hybrid, “you’re the only one that gets a choice, now say thank you master.”

Seonghwa bit his lip, wanting to yell out and curse the two men, but not trusting his voice as he thinks about how everyone's lives will be ruined. Hybrids were made by humans, then abused, and abandoned by humans. Out of all the different types, rabbit hybrids were on of the most unique and one of the saddest hybrid stories. Scientists, for whatever reason, decided to make it so both female and males could be impregnated. It was wasn’t easy to get a male hybrid pregnant, and the pregnancies were extraordinarily difficult, but humans decided to make a game of it. They hosted insemination parties, bringing mass groups of men to try their luck at who could impregnate the poor hybrids for a prize. Then the rabbits were left to suffer through their pregnancy alone, only to go through it all again, if they survived giving birth.

Mike opens the door, walking in smugly as he looked at the hybrids kneeling on the floor, knowing that they wouldn’t attack him no matter what he did. He walks up and down the row, looking at each hybrid closely, paying attention to their features. Stopping in front of Hongjoong, Mike kneels and grabs his face, roughly turning it to each side before pushing away from him and standing. Before Hongjoong could take another breath, Mike grabs him by the hair yanking him to his feet and pinning him to the cage wall. Wrapping his hand around Hongjoongs throat, he lifts Hongjoongs small body up in the air, enjoying the feeling of how Hongjoong struggled for air, trying to free himself.

“Maybe you won’t go to a lab,” Mike laughs, licking, kissing, and biting what he could reach of Hongjoongs neck, grinding his hips against the hybrids, as he got excited by Hongjoongs whimpers and choking noises. “I think I’m going to take you to one of those sex parties, you know, the ones where a hybrid takes over 60 men in one night. What I wouldn’t give to see your broken and useless body afterwards, I wonder how squirrels compare to rabbits.”

“PLEASE STOP!” Seonghwa yells from behind them, unable to watch or listen to anything more, especially when he sees Hongjoongs face turning purple from the lack of oxygen, his grip on Mikes arm starting to loosen as his body grows limp. “PLEASE!”

Mike whips around and stares at Seonghwa before throwing Hongjoong onto the ground, kicking him in the ribs as he coughs and gasps for air. Stomping towards Seonghwa, Mike grabs Seonghwa by his ears, dragging him out of the cage and letting Carl slam the door shut before anyone could react. Pulling Seonghwa into the empty cell across the hall, Mike chains him to the wall. Carl moves out of the hybrids way so they can watch what's about to happen.

“I figured, you’re going to be used for breeding no matter what, that’s all you bunnies are good for anyway,” Mike sneers unbuckling his pants, “so I may as well get a taste of what you have to offer. Isn’t that what you wanted when you asked me to stop? You wanted to take his place, you wanted to be treated like a true bunny right.”

Mike grabs Seonghwa’s shirt and rips it open, while Seonghwa cries, unable to get his arms free from the shackles, shackles that were installed in every cage just in case a hybrid got out of control. Seonghwa opens his eyes and watches as his friends try to break their door open, crying and begging for Mike to stop, with no luck.

Mike undoes his pants and pulls himself out walking closer to the bound man.

“If you bite me, they all die instantly,” Mike laughs, lining himself up with Seonghwa’s mouth, “and after, Carl will want to take you for a spin.”

Just before Mike could touch his tip to Seonghwa’s mouth, they hear a yell from down the hall.

“Mike, Carl, we have a meeting, get your asses in here now!” Yells the owner of the shelter, leaving no room for arguing.

“That man always knows how to ruin the fun,” Mike growls to Carl while he zips himself up, “throw the bunny back in his cell, and let’s go.”

Carl unshackles Seonghwa and throws him in the cell with the others before they disappear, leaving Seonghwa to grip his torn shirt around himself while the others hug him, all of them sobbing uncontrollably.

“Maybe…maybe,” Jongho cries, unable to get his words out between sobs, “maybe death won’t be all that bad.”

No one responds at this point, understanding his feelings as they all feel the same. If they died, no more pain, torture, sexual harassment, or anything else. However, they still didn’t want to die, not really. Laying down and curling around each other, they wait for the death sentence that was coming for them in the morning.

“Wake up! Line up, standing, hands out!” Mike barks at the hybrids, waking them from their fitful sleep.

Each hybrid slowly moves into a line, dread filling their bodies as their wrists and ankles are shackled together and muzzles put over their faces. Soon, they are led down the hall to the euthanasia room, some not able to stop the sobs that rip from their throats.

“You’re going last,” Mike whispers in Seonghwa’s ear and he grabs Seonghwa’s ass. “You’re going to watch as each one of them dies, then, you’re coming home with me. You’re too good looking to not be filled every day. I’m going to make sure you have no energy to leave my bed. I’m also going to have frequent parties, 5 dollars for whoever wants to have you. But first, you have to watch all of your friends die,” he finishes laughing before locking Seonghwa in the waiting cage with everyone else, but San, shackling all the hybrids to the wall. The other 6 hybrids quickly move Seonghwa behind them as best they could, as far away from Mike as possible before turning their attention to San who is being strapped to the table, tears pouring out of his eyes as the technicians insert the needle into his arm.

“I don’t want to die,” San cries, when his muzzle is removed, eyes squeezed close tightly as tears stream down his face, his body bordering hyperventilating. “I don’t want to die and I don’t want them to die.”

“Wait!”

------------------------------------------- a few minutes earlier ----------------------------------

“I will see you in 30 minutes to an hour,” You say, parking your car outside the hybrid shelter. “It’s not a problem, don’t worry about it, I’m happy to help.”

You hang up your phone as you cross the parking lot, entering the shelter and walking to the front desk, looking down the hall to see a group of 8 hybrids crying as they are led into a dark looking room.

“How can I help you?” Asks the secretary after the door closes.

“I’m here to pick up some hybrid medication; it should be under the name Mrs. Roe.” You respond, leaning on the counter, “what was wrong with them?” You ask nodding your head towards where they hybrids disappeared.

“They’re being euthanized-“

“What the fuck?!” You ask, interrupting the secretary.

“They are being euthanized, they refuse to be adopted separately and one has been returned three times when he was forcibly adopted out.”

“How do I stop it?”

“You pay $3,000 and sign this paperwork that I already filled out, all it needs is a signature at the yellow flags,” the secretary replies hurriedly shoving a stack of papers at you.

“You were prepared,” you comment as you hand over your debit card and start signing by the flags, berating yourself for not actually reading the contract you’re currently signing.

“I’ve been hoping someone would come for them for a long time so I was prepared just in case. I’ve always been prepared just in case,” she says handing you the receipt as you pull out your phone and call someone.

“No more talking, let’s go,” you reply, gesturing for her to walk as you finish the paperwork. “Kim, how close are you to 5823 Rosedale Lane?” You ask into the phone.

“Few minutes why?” The voice, Josh Kim, answers over the phone.

“I’m calling in a favor, get your ass here now, bring backup, go past the front desk take a left, door at the end of the hall,” you say, hanging up.

Once you sign the last box, of the papers, the secretary opens the door and yells “Wait!” looking up you see a hybrid strapped to the table, crying as a man begins to attach a syringe to the needle in the hybrids arm.

“This woman adopted all 8 of the hybrids, the paperwork is signed and she already paid,” the secretary states quickly thrusting the papers at the men in the room.

“It’s too late,” the man with the syringe scoffs, as he goes back to what he was doing.

“Let me make this clear,” you growl, stepping forward, staring the man down, “you remove that needle from my hybrids arm right the fuck now, or I do, and shove through your fucking throat!”

The man glares at you and throws the syringe back on the tray before pulling the needle out carelessly. Meanwhile, you keep eye contact with the jackass as you approach the table and begin to undo the restraints on the hybrids arms and legs, helping him up. You turn around and see the other 7 hybrids still held in the cage.

“Release them and then take all 8 of them to the reception area please,” you ask the receptionist.

She nods and begins undoing the restraints to the wall of the caged hybrids, ushering them out of the room when they are freed, before a greasy haired man grabs the bunny hybrid by the ears, yanking him back and wrapping his arm around the poor hybrids throat.

“Seonghwa!” Someone yells from behind you, but you aren't sure who, and you don’t care to find out at this moment, though you can guess it was the hybrid on the table since the others are muzzled. Your eyes are glued to this man and your hybrid, that he decided to put in a chokehold.

“Get them out of here,” you say to the receptionist, as calmly as possible, not allowing your anger to get the best of you.

Once you hear the door shut, you begin to speak again.

“How many hybrids have you killed since last May?” You ask, slowly walking around, making sure to keep tabs on everyone in the room while also watching that this greasy haired bastard doesn’t hurt your hybrid. “Did you know that it is illegal to euthanize a hybrid that wasn’t terminally ill for the past year? Any hybrids euthanized since then are considered a murder charge. They passed that law last May…That means, every hybrid you fuckers euthanized, will be counted as murder. So tell me…how many have you killed?”

You stand by a door on the opposite side of the room from which you came in, grabbing the handle and opening it, only to get hit with the unforgettable smell of death and decomposition. You turn on the light and see dozens upon dozens of hybrid bodies piled up in the room before pulling the door shut.

“I count over 40 bodies in there now, which means it’s at least going to be 40 counts of murder and well as 8 attempted murders, and the police should be here any minute.”

“Fuck off bitch,” the man missing a tooth exclaims, spitting towards your feet.

Just then the door opens and multiple police enter the room, demanding everyone to freeze and put their hands in the air. You walk over to Josh, who is staring down the man holding the bunny and show him the adoption papers in your hand, pointing at the bunny’s name.

“You’re Seonghwa?” The Josh asks the bunny, earning a small nod from him. “Let him go, sir, or do I need to add assault to your list of crimes?”

“Mike, just let that damn thing go,” one of the other men yell, earning a scoff from Mike, before he throws Seonghwa to the ground.

Police quickly move in and cuff Mike, before leading everyone out of the room. You nod your head at the door, hiding the decaying hybrids, alerting Josh to go look in the room. You hear him cuss before the door slams shut, and he appears in front of you.

“Unfortunately, this is still happening,” he says. “Thanks for sending calling. Hopefully, I wasn’t too late.”

“Not for these ones. Thanks for getting here quickly, or I may have shot that bastard,” you reply shaking his hand, “see you later Josh.”

Josh nods and walks out of the room calling in the need for evidence teams and the counties coroner’s office to remove the bodies, leaving you to look down at Seonghwa. You look back at the table that the other hybrid was strapped to and see the keys that you used to unshackle your hybrid with. Grabbing the keys, you approach the scared bunny, keeping your hands in his view the entire time.

“I’m going to take the muzzle and cuffs off, ok?” You say, getting a small nod in reply.

Carefully, you remove the muzzle from his head, reaching behind him to undo the buckles, letting it fall to the ground as you examine the bruises beginning to form from it being bound to tight. You make quick work of the cuffs on his wrists and ankles, looking at the bruises forming there, frowning at how marked up he is. When you begin to look up, you notice his torn shirt, small tears made in it so that the front could be tied close.

“Wanna get out of here, Seonghwa?” You ask standing and holding your hand out to him. He meekly nods and shakily takes your hand, standing unsteadily.

The two of you walk out to the reception area where you see your other 7 hybrids, 6 of them still chained together and muzzled, while the one who was strapped to the table was free and hugging the fox hybrid, clinging to the fox like his life depended on it. As you approach, all seven hybrids eyes turn to you, watching you carefully.

“I’m going to take the muzzles and cuffs off,” you say holding up the key and approaching the closest hybrid, who tenses when your hand gets close to him.

Seonghwa practically clings to you the entire time you are removing the restraints from your hybrids, you assume so he can make sure you don’t hurt any of them. You notice the same problems on them that you did on Seonghwa; they are all bruised from the restraints being too tight.

“See that red SUV out in the parking lot,” you say to what you assume is a squirrel hybrid, based on the ears and tail, “will all of you go wait by it? I will be right out.”

He nods, and they exit the building, looking back at you every few steps as they walk away. You turn and walk to the reception desk, seeing the secretary sitting there looking around nervously as the police remove file after file from the cabinet. Grabbing the medication on the counter and your remaining paperwork, you give her some advice.

“Try to cut a deal with the district attorney, say you will testify to anything you can if they want.”

With that, you turn and walk to your car. On the way you pull out your phone and text your friend Marco, saying ‘Meet me at my house ASAP, bring your kit.’

“I didn’t expect to adopt 8 hybrids today,” you say looking at the group huddled around your car, “this only seats 7, so you two will have to sit on someone's lap until we get home.”

They nod and climb in, the squirrel and fox being the two that sit on someone’s lap. You throw your car in drive and make your way home, silently. You’ve never been good with talking to people, you never know what to say, and honestly would much rather be alone than be around others. Now you have 8 lifetime commitments sitting in your car and it’s a little daunting.

You’re unsure what to say to them, and continue to rehearse your introduction in your head. When you were about 10 minutes away from your home, you stop at a house and park the car.

“I’ll be back, I just need to drop this off real quick,” you say, holding up the box that you picked up from the shelter.

The hybrids don’t respond, and you get out of the car, approaching the house. Knocking on the door, you wait for the older lady to answer.

“Y/n, how are you,” Mrs. Roe asks as she answers the door, “thank you so much for picking this up for me. The vet called and they said that the medicine should be back in by the time it needs refilled, so you won’t have to pick it up for me again.”

Mrs. Roe motions for you to come in, and as you enter her home, you see her hybrid laying on the couch wrapped in blankets and sleeping soundly.

“He’s having a pretty bad flare-up and it doesn’t help that the doctor didn’t inform me that his medication was on back order and wouldn’t be coming in this month, which is why I had to hurry and find a place that has the medication in stock.”

“Well, I’m always happy to help. And if you need anything to help him through this flare just ask,” you respond, setting the box on her kitchen counter, smiling as you watch her adjust the blankets surrounding her hybrid. You appreciated that she treated him as though he was no different than she was and did whatever she could to make him happy. When she walks back into the room, Mrs. Roe tries to hand you cash for the medicine.

“Oh, no, I don’t need that,” you say refusing the cash, “it wasn’t that much anyway.”

“Well, then at least take this,” she replies, turning away from you to pick up a freshly baked apple pie, which from previous experience, you know is to die for. “I have to thank you some way.”

“I will be more than happy to be paid back in food, you are an amazing cook and I will never turn down a meal.” You happily take the pie from her, noticing that the pan is still warm but not hot enough that you can’t hold it with your bare hands. “I really need to get going, but thank you for this.” You say as you begin to leave.

In the car

“What’s going to happen to us?” Mingi asks, clutching Yunho’s hand in a death grip.

“I don’t know, Mingi.” Hongjoong replies, staring at where you disappeared into the house.

“Whatever happens, we will be together,” Yeosang whispers, with a slight tremble of nervousness in his voice, his lisp becoming more pronounced due to his stress.

The car quiets once again as they watch you exit the house carrying something in your hands. You carefully open the door and sit down, realizing you have nowhere to put the pie with everyone in the car.

“I can hold it,” the fox hybrid whispers to you and you just smile handing him the food, saying a quiet thank you back to him.

Once you leave, it’s as quiet as it was before. You can feel the nervousness in the air and can’t think of what to do to break the tension, so you just stay quiet. It only takes 10 minutes to make it to your house, a giant home that looks as though it stretches as far as the eyes can see. As you pull in the driveway, you see Marco sitting on your front steps waiting for you.

“Welcome home,” you say to everyone, picking up all of the paperwork and files you got from the shelter, you turn to the fox and ask, “Can you carry that inside for me?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You walk to the front steps, letting the hybrids get out at their own pace, understanding that this is probably overwhelming to them.

“Hey Marco, thanks for coming so quickly,” you say as you approach him.

“Y/n, what is so important that you had to call me on my day off,” he grunts in reply.

“I adopted 8 hybrids, they were about to be euthanized, and they are bruised from the restraints, one has other injuries, they also look pretty malnourished. I wanted you to look them over but figured it would be too stressful to suddenly show up at a doctor’s office.”

Digging through the stacks of paper you are holding you pull out their medical records and hand them to Marco to read through. As he begins reading, you turn around and see all eight hybrids standing behind you fidgeting and looking around the front yard.

“Let’s go in,” you say, sweeping your arm forward and leading them into the house. You watch as they remove their shoes and lead them to the living room. “Marco is a doctor, he’s going to give you a checkup and treat any injuries you may have. You can sit,” you motion to the couch and chairs, “I will be in the kitchen.”

“Wait!” Seonghwa yells, stopping you, “please don’t go. Please stay.”

“Ok,” you say, smiling and nodding before sitting on a chair, “I will stay here and read while you get a checkup, if at any time you are uncomfortable, you can ask to stop.”

While Marco examined them, you open the files, they were fairly sparse with very little information. The first up was Hongjoong.

Hongjoong – Squirrel hybrid

26 years old

Found wandering the streets, emaciated, angry

Personality issues, stubborn, clumsy, not good at anything – likely unadoptable

You look up and see the squirrel hybrid, he’s blonde with grey ears and tail, and he has perfect teeth from what you’ve seen so far, pillowy lips, and a sleek nose. He stood on guard watching every movement Marco made. Looking back down you flip the page to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa – Rabbit hybrid

27 years old

Found chained to a fence, starving and emaciated, abandoned by owners for refusing to participate in an insemination party, attacked everyone that tried to touch him.

Personality issues neurotically clean – likely unadoptable

Seonghwa was also a blonde with bright white ears, his hair was short with buzzed sides underneath. He had boba like eyes and high cheekbones, with a sharp nose

Yunho – Golden Retriever Hybrid

26 years old

Rescued with Mingi, both of them were neglected by their owner and starved on the regular, both also showed signs of abuse. – co-dependent, likely unadoptable

Yunho had golden ears and the gold on his tail was matted from neglect, his hair was a dark brown and he was smiling at the others, trying to cheer them up and make them feel more comfortable.

Yeosang – Doberman Hybrid

25 years old

Found chained in a junk yard with no shelter, sick with multiple broken bones, surrendered for not being able to ‘protect anything properly.’

Personality issues, too quiet, and shy – likely unadoptable

He had a mark on the side of his face, probably a birth mark that fit him well for some reason. His hair was dark reddish brown and he had delicate features.

San – Black Jaguar hybrid

25 years old

Returned three times, the first he complained about his owner not leaving him and Wooyoung alone and trying to touch them inappropriately without their permission, the second he was adopted alone and returned because he was too clingy and the owners wanted a guard hybrid, the third time he was returned by a hybrid fighting ring for refusing to fight the other hybrids. His personality is defective and he will be euthanized.

Personality issues, too clingy, scared of everything – unadoptable

San had cat like eyes that fit the hybrid that he was, and jet black hair. He was muscular, well built, which you wondered if it was from his hybrid genetics or hard work, or a mix of both.

Mingi – Chick hybrid

25 years old

Personality issues, clumsy, scared of his own shadow, co-dependent, - likely unadoptable

Mingi had eyes that made him look like an emoji, eyes that were wide and filled with almost a childlike fear. His hair was black, and he looked to be 6 feet tall.

Wooyoung – Fox hybrid

25 years old

Surrendered with San, shelter employees were told by San that the owner tried to touch them inappropriately multiple times.

Personality issues, too loud, clingy, and rambunctious. Talks back too much, owners will not like him – likely unadoptable

He had reddish orange hair with shaggy bangs, a prominent nose, and mischievous face, though also a face that looked sweet.

Jongho – Bear hybrid

24 years old

Origins unknown, was found passed out at the front of the shelter

Personality issues, standoffish, can be aggressive, becomes lazy in winter during typical bear hibernation time – likely unadoptable

He had dark brown hair, a cute round face, and small nose

“All done,” Marco said removing his glove and putting it in the garbage bag you gave him earlier. “We can talk outside about the results now, or you could wait until the blood tests come back.”

“I’d like to know now if everyone is ok with you telling me,” you reply to Marco before turning to the hybrids, “knowing if anything is wrong will let me know what treatments you may need.”

“It’s ok, you can know,” Hongjoong whispers for the first time to you, while the others nod.

“Right, so,” Marco starts, looking at his notes to make sure he repeats everything correctly, “Everyone is malnourished and needs more food, all also have bruises and small cuts. The only ones that have major issues are Hongjoong and San, who have bruises and contusions, possible fractured ribs. San also has a swollen knee, I think it is a soft tissue injury, just keep an eye on it for now, here are some pain meds, and if his knee is too overworked, it could give out, maybe get a brace. Then there is Seonghwa who has eczema, potentially stress induced, it’s hard to tell right now, we will have to check up later. Best treatment now would be a corticosteroid ointment or we have pills, and injectable meds. Finally, there’s Yeosang, he has a lisp and hand tremor, these could be benign or they could be something more, again, could be stress induced, just keep an eye on it and let me know if it gets worse.  Now, what kind of meds do you want for Seonghwa?”

You watched the hybrids closely as the doctor mentioned each issue. They all flinched and curled in on themselves as if ashamed of the issues.

“Seonghwa,” you say getting the rabbits attention, watching him jump at the mention of his name, “what kind of treatment would you like to try?”

“I…I don’t…what?” He asks, looking at the others for help.

“This is your body, your health, you get to choose what type of treatment you would like to have, and if it works great, if it doesn’t we will move on to the next.”

“Um…oin…ointment please.”

“Ok, then we will start with that,” You confirm, looking at Marco, who nods in response.

“I will have it delivered tomorrow and let you know when the results come in,” he says, standing and walking to the door, bidding you goodbye before leaving.

You shut the door and wait in front of it, taking a deep breath before turning and walking to your hybrids.

“So…how about I show you where you will be staying?” You ask, watching them carefully. They all fidget, and Jongho slowly nods yes. “Perfect, follow me.” You say, leading them through the house, to the kitchen, “here is the kitchen, help yourself to any and all food that you want. Outside the kitchen, beyond the patio is a pool, if you’d like to swim, and this way is where your rooms are.” You say as you lead them to the steps, San following you the closest out of everyone, when his knee seemingly gives out and he falls, you were lucky that you watched him so closely because you were able to catch him before he fell. “It’s ok,” you say softly as you drag him to the step for him to sit on while he grips his knee and whimpers in pain. “I have your pain meds. Once we get you to your room, I’ll give them to you, then get you food, ok?” You ask, earning a small nod and whimper. You turn to the rest of the boys and ask, “Can one of you get an ice pack from the freezer and another help me carry him up the stairs?”

Yeosang races off to the kitchen while both Yunho and Mingi step forward to help carry San up the stairs. You walk behind them with your arms out, ready to brace them if they begin to fall, knowing that you will be going down with them if they fall. Once you reach the top of the stairs, Yeosang comes sprinting up the stairs with an icepack, and you usher everyone to the room across from the stairs.

“You can stay in this room,” you say, directing San to a bed, lifting his leg, and propping it up on a pillow before getting a towel to roll the ice pack in, then placing it over his knee. “I am in the room across the hall, diagonal to this. All of you can have your own room, and you get to choose any room you want. San, you don’t have to stay in this room if you don’t want to, you can look at the others, I just ask that you wait a day for your knee to recover before you start looking.” You pull out a pill and put it in his hand before getting a glass of water from the bathroom. “All of you are welcome to bathe, in hot water, if you’d like, and I will try to get some clean clothes for you. Tomorrow, or later, we can go clothes shopping and get you your necessary supplies. I’ll go get you some rice, then cook everyone dinner, ok.”

You stand and walk to the door before turning around.

“I would like all of you to choose your own room, everyone deserves to have their own space. However, if you want to sleepover in someone else’s room, that is fine with me, I don’t care, this is your home as well, and I want all of you to be comfortable, I will be making bulgogi, broccoli, and rice tonight.” With that you walk out and go to the kitchen to cook.

Hybrids

Once you walked out of the room, the hybrids turned to each other, Wooyoung scrambling onto the bed to cuddle with San, while the others sit down around him, Seonghwa crawling to San’s other side.

“She seems nice,” Seonghwa whispers, breaking the silence.

“What if she’s just acting that way and will do something later,” Mingi also whispers, while tugging on his hair, close to having a panic attack.

“Then we’ll deal with that later,” San replies, beginning to fade away, the stress, and pain meds making him tired. “We aren’t dead, she saved us, I’m scared, but I also, don’t want to ruin a potentially good thing.”

Before anyone can respond a knock comes from the door, the hybrids just stare but it doesn’t open, finally Yunho speaks up.

“Co-come in,” he says, trying to steady his voice.

The door opens and what looks like a chair and pile of clothes with legs walks in, setting everything down in the living room.

“Ok, so here are some clothes from my closet, Mingi and Yunho, I have oversized shirts that should fit, but my pants will be capris on you. Each bathroom has shampoo, conditioner, soaps, and towels, as well as toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, and hair brushes. San, here is a chair that can be set in your shower so you don’t have to stand on that leg. Also, there are scrubbies for your body in each bathroom. Oh, about dinner, I don’t have regular beef for the bulgogi, so it will be ground beef bulgogi and should be ready in about 45 minutes. So, why don’t you clean up and I can bring it up here, or we can work to carry San downstairs, I should have some crutches around here somewhere.” As you begin to leave, you stop again and turn back to them, “My name is Y/N, I adopted you, and I’m sure you don’t trust me yet, seeing what was about to happen and reading your files, I can only begin to imagine why you wouldn’t trust me. However, you are safe here, I will never knowingly hurt you, I swear I will protect you, and I hope, that one day, you will come to understand that I truly mean that…Ok, I will get going.”

With that, you walk out, leaving the clothes and everything in their room and hybrids stunned in silence behind you.

“Let’s, uh, let’s clean up,” Hongjoong says, standing and looking through the clothes on the chair, giving the biggest ones to Yunho and Mingi, while the others look through what’s on the pile. Suddenly, Seonghwa gasps as he reaches for a shirt, snatching it quickly and pulling something from the back of it, which seems to be stuck by static.

“Do you think she’d let me wear this?” He asks, holding up a feminine shirt, hope glimmering in his eyes with excitement at the prospect.

“Yes,” Jongho states, watching the elder hybrid. “I…I don’t trust her fully, that will…take time. But I believed her when she said she wouldn’t hurt us…I…believe her.” He finishes, blushing as everyone stares at him, knowing the bear hybrid is least likely to believe or trust anyone. “I’m going to go find a room and shower.” He yells as he runs out of the room, face bright red.

“I will set the chair in the shower,” Seonghwa says, as he smiles, watching where the bear ran out of the room. He jumps up and takes the chair, placing it in a giant shower stall before looking around and playing with the dual showerheads. Walking back into the room, he clears his throat. “I’m not shy, I know some of you are, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving San alone to shower. The shower can fit all of us and has two showerheads.” He begins before turning to San, “I would like to help you, I don’t even have to face you, I just need to know that you won’t fall, that you will be ok, th-“

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong interrupts.

“No, he’s my baby, they are all my responsibility and I failed each of them now San is hurt and I can’t let him be alone,” Seonghwa says almost panicking. 

“Hyung,” San begins to say.

“What if you fall, whatifyouslipandbreakthroughtheglassandbleedoutinthebathroom, what if-“

“HYUNG,” Yeosang yells holding Seonghwa’s face in his hands as he tries to calm the older down.

“I should have protected all of you, I’m the oldest,” Seonghwa cries out, falling to his knees, hugging himself.

“You did protect us, remember how you sacrificed yourself last night to save Joongie?” Yeosang asks, rocking Seonghwa side to side, “You saved us, you always saved us.”

“You can help me hyung,” San says, “I’m really tired and don’t want to be alone, I would be happy if you help me.”

Seonghwa looks over at San and nods, drying his eyes as he sniffles and tries to compose himself. Before he can say anything, there is a knock on the door, the hybrids saying come in at the same time. You pop your head in seeing Seonghwa and Yeosang on the floor and more than one hybrid crying.

“Is everything ok?” You ask watching their reactions.

“Yes,” Yunho replies, “we were just talking.”

“Ok…if you need anything just ask,” You say, nodding as you shut the door again, “oh, I brought San my old crutches to help with his knee…I’ll just…put them here.”

You place the crutches down then walk out again, not wanting to push the hybrids into talking or making them uncomfortable.

After a few moments, each hybrid stands up, taking their clothes to the shower to clean up, while Seonghwa helps a sleepy San into his shower, standing behind him with his back turned, while both relish the feeling of hot water and soap to scrub their bodies. Feeling the grime and oil come out of their hair as they clean. What feels like hours, but is really only 15 minutes, both hybrids are drying off and applying lotion to their skin before brushing their teeth and getting dressed, after a half an hour, they enter San’s bedroom to find 8 dinner trays, with complete meals covered in the room, all with names on each tray. San hobbles over to one chair and tray and lifts the lid, salivating at the smell of food, looking at Seonghwa with pleading eyes, begging to let him start eating. Seonghwa chuckles and nods, watching San devour his food, like he’s never eaten before. Soon, the others come trickle in, their stomachs growling as each goes to their trays. All of them notice that each tray has appropriate food based on their animal needs, San has the most protein, while Seonghwa has the most veggies. Meanwhile, Jongho and Hongjoong have a large side of berries and nuts.

Once everyone finishes, they are unable to keep their eyes open, all crawling into San’s bed and configuring themselves to all fit together in the king sized bed, passing out as soon as their eyes shut.

You waited two hours before heading upstairs, you knock quietly on the door, and open it after no answer, seeing all the hybrids asleep in the room makes you smile as you take multiple trips removing their food trays. Once the trays were cleaned and put away, you head to bed, exhaling as your head hits the pillow and you your eyes shut within seconds.

A few hours later, your eyes snap open, the feeling of being watched creeping over you. As fast as you can you jump up and spin around, seeing San standing there on his crutches, looking like he doesn’t know if he should run or stay.

“San,” you ask, rubbing your eyes, relaxing your posture, “is everything ok?”

“Um…yes,” he replies, “I…um…can I…may I…can I sleep with you tonight?” he quickly says, shutting his eyes so he doesn’t have to see your face.

“Of course,” you state, moving over and patting the bed next to you, watching as he stares in awe then hobbles over to share your sleep space.

He snuggles in carefully, a smile on his face, before he falls back asleep. You watch him for a minute then drift off as well. Maybe 8 hybrids won’t be so bad.

Next Chapter

[kinardsevan]

if the world was ending (would you drive to me to cry with me)

8x15 coda scene

Tommy spends an indeterminate period of time standing in front of the monitors watching Evan. His throat hurts just as badly as the knots in his stomach that have kept him rooted to the spot, torn between going inside to find the younger man and continuing to watch him. 

It hurt him in a way that he couldn’t quantify into words, to see the younger man hurt the way he currently was. It fed into this continuous loop of trying to shove down his true feelings while also feeling them bubble up at what felt like the most inopportune times. 

If there was one thing he was clear on, though, it was that his feelings toward Evan weren’t gone in the slightest, let alone something sophomoric that he could just push away. 

He wanted someone to tell him the right answer. He wanted to go inside and fold Evan into his arms, be there for him. He wanted to stuff the boiling-over feelings in his chest so far down that he could go home and try to continue on without the younger firefighter in his life the same way he’s been trying—and mostly failing—since that night he walked out of the loft months ago. 

Except, nobody is coming, because Howie is in isolation, and so is Hen. Ravi and he are on decent terms, but he doesn’t exactly expect the kid to come and tell him how to deal with his own feelings when the kid is clearly dealing with far more in the face of losing Bobby.

And sure, Tommy was losing Bobby too, but not in the way everyone else was. Not in the way that Hen and Howie were, when they had stayed at the 118 during Bobby’s entire tenure. Not in the way that Ravi had only ever known Bobby as a captain, because he’d never faced a 118 A shift without him. Not like Evan…

Something snaps in him at that thought, and he swipes at the tears on his face, turns on his heel and walks out of the tent.

There are people still milling in and out of the facility when he makes it inside. If anyone of them has anything to say about the fact that he’s not suited up to be inside the building, they don’t say anything. He passes by swathes of people, ultimately joining a group in the elevator where only one button is pushed. He can feel the way eyes shoot in his direction but no one actually speaks and he’s glad for it. He’d be inclined to snap at the moment if anyone actually did. 

When the elevator docks on the floor, people exit, heading in different directions. He passes by all of them, moving deeper into the facility until he finally comes to one of the doors that leads to the locked area. A man in fatigues eyes him up quickly—Tommy vaguely recognizes him from before they all went inside—and then swipes a card at the reader before moving aside. 

Tommy brushes past him, walking faster and faster the closer he gets. When he finally reaches the last locked door, he meets the Colonel in charge, and the man swipes his card without saying anything before Tommy even reaches him. 

He hears Evan’s sobs as soon as the door opens, and it feels like drowning. His feet move under him in a way where it feels like they almost never touch the ground, because in one second he’s passing through the door and the next, he’s down on the floor, water soaking through he legs of his flight suit as he pulls the younger man in and holds him. 

Evan’s hands claw at the back of his suit with desperation, as if he can’t get close enough to the pilot. 

��Shh, I know,” he murmurs, holding on to the younger man just as tightly. “I know, baby.” 

The word slips out, and whatever version of him feels like he shouldn’t have said it is stomped to death by sob that Evan lets out as his fingers dig into Tommy’s trapezius muscles. The pilot closes his eyes and buries his own face in Evan’s collarbone, inhaling him and feeling so fucking selfish for the fact that he gets to, when feet away, Athena Grant still stands at the barrier between herself and the lab where Captain Bobby Nash is dying. 

He loses time again, doesn’t give any inclination to it passing, even with the watch on his wrist working perfectly fine. Evan cries, and so does he, and they just exist. 

Eventually, after an extremely long time, he feels Evan sag entirely against him, and when Tommy pulls back, he knows. 

It takes him a few seconds to configure their movements, but he gets his arms underneath Evan, shifts on a knee, and then pushes off the ground with the younger man in his arms. He heads back up the hall, passes through doors freely, and when they approach the outside, he sees people he recognizes as being from the medical examiner’s office. Somewhere inside of him, he feels the slightest bit of relief, knowing Evan isn’t awake to see them. He’s not sure the younger man could handle that realization at the moment. 

He’s surprised when he gets outside and finds Weston leaning against Tommy’s truck, keys in hand. When they’re close enough, Weston opens the passenger side of Tommy’s truck, and Tommy gets Evan settled, buckles him in, and then closes the door quietly before turning to his captain. 

“How?” He asks as Weston hands over Tommy’s keys. 

Weston shrugs. “Donato and a few of the others offered to do some shuffling around after shift. My car is across the lot.” The man looks past him toward the building. “Saw the coroner arrived.” 

Tommy nods, gulping past the knot in his throat. Weston reaches a hand out and squeezes his shoulder. 

“Take an extra day. Hell, Kinard, take two. We’ll figure it out. Just take care of yourself,” his captain states. He jerks his head toward the passenger door. “And him.” 

Tommy nods, turning his head away as a tear slips out and down his cheek. Weston squeezes his shoulder once more before stepping past him, patting it gently before walking away. Tommy takes enough time to take another breath before he rounds his truck and gets into the driver’s seat, starts the vehicle. 

He glances over at Evan, still passed out and still in his turnouts, reaches over and cups his cheek as he swallows down against the knot still in his throat. Evan lets out a breath, sniffling in his sleep. Tommy pulls his hand back after a few seconds and backs out of the parking spot. As he turns back around from checking out his back window for clearance, his hand falls against Evan’s palm on his thigh as naturally as it ever has, and the younger man curls his fingers in. Any part of Tommy that feels like he could pull away before sinks away.

He spends far too long trying to figure out whose house to take them to, before ultimately taking Evan back to his place. The younger man’s truck is bound to be at the 118, and he can’t be sure if he has his keys on him. It’s a longer drive, but it also gives Evan a longer time to rest. 

He pulls the truck all the way into his garage, grateful that his most recent project vehicle is finished, so he’s able to park the truck in the middle so he can get Evan out and into the house without having to wake him. 

He gets the younger man in the house, through the kitchen into the bedroom, settles him on the bench at the end of the king-sized bed before he starts removing his turnouts. The jacket goes easiest, and then he lets Evan sag back against the mattress after he gets the suspenders down before removing his boots and pants. They smell of smoke and ash—as they always do, given their job—and he walks out into the kitchen long enough to set them on a couple of chairs before he returns to the bedroom. Evan is still stretched half across the bottom of the bed, sagging down just slightly where his body presses the mattress down while his hips and legs are tilted higher by the bench. 

He questions himself for a time, wondering if it’s right or even okay for him to remove the rest of Evan’s clothes. He knows that the younger man loathes sleeping in pants, and more often than not, he doesn’t wear a shirt to bed either. Still, he isn’t sure that it’s his place anymore. 

Evan snuffles and rubs a hand across his face before resettling, trying to shift his hips and failing. 

“‘mmy,” he mutters, barely audible, and it’s enough to make the decision for the pilot.

He crosses the space between them and unbuttons and zips Evan’s jeans. 

“I’m right here, baby,” he answers softly, reaching up to squeeze his hand before pulling the jeans off Evan’s hips, down his legs. He folds them and sets them on the dresser before moving around to the side of the bed and lifting Evan. He moves the blankets around and then slips the younger man beneath them. All the movement is enough to rouse Evan at least a little bit. Tommy sits on the edge of the bed beside him, helping him out of the t-shirt and letting it fall on the floor. When it’s gone, Evan’s hand runs down Tommy’s arm until it wraps around his forearm, holding on. Tommy glances back at him as Evan’s eyes meet his, defeated and heartbroken. 

“Bobby’s gone,” he rasps. It isn’t a question. 

Tommy gulps, strokes his thumb along the inside of Evan’s elbow. 

“Yeah, baby.” 

Evan keeps staring up at him as tears well up. Tommy remembers, only too easily, how only a year ago they had sat in the kitchen of the loft and Evan had told him how he’d feared losing the captain then, and how Bobby was the father he’d never had. 

Except, now Bobby is gone, and he’s not coming back. And the same way Tommy will never talk to his mom again, Evan will never talk to Bobby again. This was not a matching scar he wanted them to share. 

Wordlessly, Tommy reaches up and wipes away Evan’s tears with his free hand, and they exist together in space again for a time. After a few minutes, Evan reaches for the snaps on Tommy’s uniform and starts pulling them apart. He works them open all the way down to Tommy’s stomach, never asking, but both of them knowing. 

When Tommy stands, their hands slide down, fingers intertwined as he pulls his free arm out of the uniform and then turns, letting Evan take that hand as he slides his other arm out and then slips out of his shoes and kicks away the uniform before using his toes to get his socks off. 

Down to his undershirt and boxers, he lets Evan pull on his hand, and rather than cycling around the bed, he slots a leg over Evan and then leans over him to get to the other side. Evan stops him for the briefest moment as Tommy passes over top of him, their gaze meeting, but once the pilot is settled into the space beside him, Evan lets his hand go and rests it on Tommy’s leg as the pilot removes his t-shirt, tosses it down by Evan’s before laying down with him. 

Evan rearranges himself, curls up against the pilot’s chest as Tommy’s arms loop around him. 

“He said he loved me,” Evan whispers, his voice wet with phlegm. “That I’d be okay without him, and everyone was going to need me.” 

Tommy’s fingers stroke up and down his back as he listens, the other curled up in Evan’s free hand, the younger man holding on to his index and middle fingers. 

“I don’t know where he gets that. I’m not…” He huffs and sniffles, shakes his head minutely. Tommy feels wetness on his chest. “Everyone leaves. Or dies.” 

His statement twists something inside of Tommy’s chest. A callback to their breakup, something that makes him want to argue about who said what and when, but in the face of the current moment, it doesn’t feel like it means anything. And really, does it? Does arguing that Evan said he doesn’t feel anything for him—when they both still clearly do—and Tommy thinking the younger man would choose someone else eventually really matter if, in the face of death, they just want each other? 

“I have to be okay for them,” he continues. “Athena. Hen, Chim. Someone has to hold it together for all of them.” 

Tommy nods his head against his pillow as he keeps his eyes on the younger man. Whether intentional or not, Evan tightens against his side, and Tommy’s hand moves to the back of his head, his thumb stroking down against it. 

“Maybe,” he murmurs softly. “But you don’t have to for me.” 

Evan inhales a deep breath audibly, and when he lets it out, Tommy feels another tear fall onto his chest. They lay together quietly, the only sounds being their breathing and the occasional sniffle from Evan. Tommy doesn’t fight his own tears, but breathes in and out of his mouth, not wanting Evan to feel like he can’t have a place to let his walls down. 

And then, some time later, a breath catches in Tommy’s chest at a memory. Evan tilts his head up, his own tears still coming slowly and quietly. Tommy’s head is tilted higher on his pillow, clearly trying to keep the focus on Evan, but the younger man reaches up with Tommy’s fingers still wrapped in his hand, and he uses his thumb to pull at the pilot’s chin until Tommy looks down at him. Gaze to gaze, there’s nothing but naked vulnerability between them. 

“You’re not allowed to die,” Evan tells him. 

Tommy lets out a mirthless laugh as another tear slips out, rests on his eye socket. “Neither are you.” 

Evan stares up at him, a mix of something happening in his expression. It causes that swell in Tommy’s chest again, more than boiling at this point as he watches Evan open his mouth at the same time as more tears fall. His gaze slips to Tommy’s lips and then back up at him. 

“I…” 

“I know,” Tommy answers him, squeezing his fist around where Evan still has his fingers in a haphazard handhold. “I do too.” 

Evan’s gaze softens at him, and for the briefest moment, things hurt just a little less. Evan reaches up and pulls Tommy’s head toward him, and the pilot lifts, meets him in the middle in a kiss that they’re both too tired to let turn into anything else. When they part, Evan rests his head on Tommy’s shoulder and his hand over the pilot’s heart, feeling the thump thump thump beneath his palm. Neither of them speaks, and neither closes their eyes, all too aware of what they’ll see if they do. 

Bobby Nash was a man who had saved both of them—for Evan, on more than one occasion, and for Tommy, when he needed it most. He’d kept them both alive so that they could find each other, and even though they might only have to figure out out one minute a time, Tommy wasn’t sure of how he was going to get Evan through losing the captain, let alone himself. 

But he knew that he would. He had to. He’d promised. 

“Hey!” 

Tommy glances up, a smile crossing his face as he looks up at Bobby. 

“Hey, Bobby. Good to see you again,” he comments, extending a hand to his former captain. The other man takes it, grips firmly as he shakes Tommy’s hand. 

“Glad to see you joining in on the team get-togethers,” he answers, clapping his hand on Tommy’s shoulder again. Tommy’s gaze shifts back across the yard at where Evan is swinging Jee-Yun around, and his eyes soften as his heart swells. The younger man was supposed to be getting them new refreshments, but he’d clearly gotten distracted, and Tommy wasn’t about to complain. 

“Happy to be invited,” he responds, a little softer. Evan stops as Maddie walks up to him and says something, and the younger man laughs at her, setting Jee-Yun on the ground. She tears off in a different direction towards the other kids. 

“It’s a good thing,” Bobby states, and Tommy glances up at him, raising an eyebrow. Bobby nods at him. “I know how you can get. But you’re good for each other. And if you let him, he’ll protect your heart just as much as his own.” 

Tommy inhales a deep breath and gulps, nods minutely. 

“Well, maybe just don’t go having anything happen like that fire anytime again soon,” Tommy states when he manages to feel like he hasn’t swallowed lava again. 

“I’ll do my best,” Bobby tells him. A moment later, he glances over at Tommy. “But something tells me that even if something did happen, he’d be taken care of.” 

Tommy looks back at him again, that lava feeling welling in his chest once more. Bobby nods at him, as though he’s decided on something neither of them had voiced. Tommy opens his mouth to say something, but then Athena is calling the man’s name, and he pats Tommy on the shoulder before walking away. Shortly thereafter, Evan walks up to him with two fresh beers, passing one to Tommy before slipping an arm around his waist. 

“Everything okay,” he asks, curling into Tommy’s side. The pilot glances back in Bobby’s direction, his mind still on their exchange as the captain looks back at him, a smile still on his face. 

“Yeah,” Tommy answers, fully aware of what causes that lava feeling as it swirls around in his chest again. He turns towards Evan and nuzzles an eskimo kiss. “Yeah, everything’s great.” 

[venusinthesun]

Evil women make the world spin round

Arlecchino, fem! Scaramouche, sandrone X reader

┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈

Part 1 (capitano, dottore, columbina) Part 3 (coming soon)

As much as I love arlecchino, I really have no ideas for her. That’s why her portion of this is really short, because genuinely I can only get so far. If you guys have any AU requests for her let me know :) also if any other writers are reading this does the “more” thing go before or after the divider??

Arlecchino

Cw: feminine reader, lingerie, sorry it’s short—ran out of ideas

“I do enjoy when you dress up for me, love.”

Arlecchino whispers into your ear, a small smile making its way across her lips at your little breathy gasp. Your sitting in her lap, your chest pressed against arlecchino’s.

You watch as she takes in your attire, eyes trailing over ever curve highlighted by the lingerie. It’s delicious almost; the way it suits you so well. You feel her hands wander up your thighs, taking their time to trail over every curve until they reach your hips.

“But so naughty—coming into my office while I’m working to tease me..”

“I..I wouldn’t have too if y-you came to bed on time..”

“Mhm, I suppose so,” Arlecchino wastes little time using her claws to tear through the lace, discarding the pieces to the floor. Your little whimper at the cold air doesn’t phase her, her palm quickly coming to cup your cunt. “Allow me to make it up to you.”

Scaramouche

Cw: ROUGH sex, knee grinding, choking, harsh degradation, could be read as dubcon. Fem reader

“How pathetic, really. I thought you were supposed to be a prized scholar.” Scaramouche sneers as her knee grinds against your cunt, deeply enjoying the way you’ve done undone with such simple teasing.

Scara has always found some sick pleasure in seeing people cry, but she’s sure that your her favorite view. It’s so…desperate, the way you sob from overstimulation but still wiggle your hips for more. You’re one of the most sad, pitiful people she’s ever met, and she loves it.

“Cmon…you can take one more right?” Scara coos, a smirk etched across her face at your dumb little whines. Your legs have given up a while ago, resigned to shaking but that doesn’t deter scaramouche from pressing her knee against your clit harder. “Was that a yes? I need a legible answer.”

“Ahn..ahh— n..onono…!!”

“What was that?”

Scara moves her hand from its position resting on the bed, traveling up your body until it gently cusps itself around your neck.

“I said, what was that sweetheart?” 

“n..no-! Angh—!”

Her hand squeezes tightly, a shiver running down her spine at the way your eyes widen to look at her. It’s thrilling, seeing how much you rely on her to not hurt you in this moment.

“We’ll be staying here until you answer me correctly, next time.”

Sandrone

Side note: I’m very iffy on writing her because I’m scared hoyo is gonna drop that she’s actually a puppet of that one dead kid and then I’m going to have porn of a puppet of a dead child T-T

Cw: bondage, vibrator, mostly tame. Gn reader

“Will you finally stop bothering me now..?”

Sandrone’s voice is barely audible above the whirring of the machines in her lab, but despite that her tone remains sharp as ever. You catch her eyes staring back at you, looking over your body before eventually dragging themselves back to her work.

Perhaps bothering your harbinger while she tinkers with the next puppet she’s making was a mistake, but you can’t exactly say you mind the position you’re in. Wires wrap around your limbs, keeping your hands behind your back and legs spread. It’s a tad uncomfortable, but the soft whirring of the vibrator makes up for it.

“I don’t think I was bothering you much before-“ you watch as sandrone turns her head to look at you, her eyes narrowed with annoyance.

“Lying isn’t encouraged when you’re already at my mercy.” For the first time in a very long time, sandrones hand stops its work. Instead, it makes it way over to the little remote sitting on the side of her desk, fidgeting with it before clicking a button once, twice and finally a third time.

You gasp as the vibrations pick up their pace, whirring away faster and faster. You’re practically double over—only held up by the wires to stop you from hitting the floor.

“Hopefully this should teach you some respect.”

Once again I don’t reread anything I write so if this is shit don’t @ me pls :( happy gooning!

[accioscarheadthings]

ULTRAMINE ~ CHAPTER 5

kenji sato x reader

summary: kenji finds a secret that you have been keeping from him and it's making him doubt everything about you

pairings: kenji sato x fem!student!reader

warning: angst, arguments, emi defending you, mention of violence, gore, blood, and death, onset of a panic attack

masterlist !

an undercover agent.

working for the kdf

kenji's mind was whirling as he glared at your watch with utmost loathing. he was up early that morning, not being able to sleep much with the information he had discovered.

"good morning," you walked into his lab in the basement.

the watch slipped his grasp and he accidently kicked it your way.

you turned towards it and your expression turned alarmed at once, "kenji... where did you find that?" you had an idea of what he might of seen if he had your watch.

kenji turned around to face you, his eyes blazing with anger as he strode towards you, "the kdf? seriously?"

"oh god, ken," you covered your face with your hands, "it's not what it looks like-"

"i can't believe I trusted you. all along, you were working against us. you're nothing but a traitor!"

you flinched at his words, hurt by the disappointment and betrayal in his voice. but despite the pain, you didn't know how to tell him the truth. so you steeled yourself for his barrage of accusations.

"you had me fooled all this time. it was all just a facade, wasn't it? you were leading me on, using me to get what you wanted,"

"please, let me explain," you tried to speak, your frustration rising, "allow me to explain. i need you to trust me, kenji," you picked up the watch and strapped it around your wrist.

"i can't. not anymore," he snapped in disdain, "I thought I wasn't good enough for you, when it was you who was wrong all along, "you know deep down that you're not good enough, don't you? that's why you're always trying so hard to prove yourself. you're just a poser, pretending to be something you're not,"

your shoulders sagged at his words and your expression cleared. you swore you heart your heart crack.

ah, he hit the home run.

emi stepped between you and kenji, crying out in perplexity. she had never seen you argue with each other, but now, she didn't like it one bit.

kenji stared up at her, "step aside, young lady! you're gonna be in big trouble!"

emi trilled in retaliation, glancing at you in confusion.

you wanted to defend yourself, to prove that he was wrong, but something didn't feel right.

you couldn't breathe.

a chill slithered down your sweaty back, bursting into a shiver throughout your body.

kenji yelled, losing all sense, "emi! you're taking her side but she's the bad guy! she will kill you!"

"that's enough, kenji!" professor sato thundered, having just entered the lab, and having heard enough.

you froze, all of it sinking it. the words ascended your throat to defend yourself, and when you opened your mouth, you could hardly breathe.

you clutched your chest, scurrying out of the lab, ignoring professor sato's calls.

emi hurried after you, sobbing, but the tube elevator had disappeared out of view. she slumped down in her place with a pout, ears drooping down.

you barged into your room, leaning on the edge of your bed, and slid down the floor.

the memories of your past come rushing back to you like a tidal wave.

flashes of your parents’ faces, their voices, and the sound of the door being broken down by armed guards fill your mind.

you were transported back to that terrifying day when your parents were arrested, your body trembling with fear and anger. You watched as the guards roughed up your parents, grabbing them without any consideration.

you feel the familiar pang of betrayal as you watch your parents being dragged into the van, their shouts of protest silenced by the KDF officers.

"no," you hit the side of your head repeatedly to knock off the images, "stop it!"

the scene changed, and you saw your parents being taken to a high-security facility. you watched as they were separated and taken to different rooms, their faces etched with worry and pain.

as you follow your parents, the memory begins to blur and shift. you can see your parents being subjected to intense questioning, their bodies bound to chairs as their minds are probed and invaded.

screams of pain echoed throughout the facility they tortured your parents to no end. blood oozing out of their skin where they had been beaten and battered up for information.

as you came out of the flashback, you were brought back to the present moment. the memories of your parents' arrest and torture came flooding back, and you felt yourself starting to spiral into yourself.

your breathing became shallow, your hands shaking, your mind racing with images of your parents in agony and drenched in blood.

your knees buckled, and you found yourself sinking to the ground. you could feel the onset of a panic attack, your body beginning to shake, chest tightening.

your watch beeped and your warbird suit encapsulated you, covering you from head to toe, metal plates shifting upwards over your body.

"no, not now," you screwed your eyes shut, reaching out to reality and attempting to steady your breathing.

snapping them open, your suit lit up and you began to gather yourself.

"her parents died that day," professor sato explained to kenji over the cries of emi, "they didn't make it through the interrogation. at first, y/n's father thought they were getting arrested for the identity of warbird, partner in crime of ultraman," he scoffed, "but they were wrong. it was for their involvement in kaiju studies. y/n's father knew where kaij island was. so they thought they could torture it out of him. it got so severe that they-" he paused, screwing his eyes shut in agony, "they tortured them to death," his voice shook.

kenji shut his eyes, his heart heavy with sorrow, regret, and guilt. The weight of his actions and the full extent of his guilt started to sink in, and he began to understand the gravity of his words.

"the kdf disposed of their bodies by faking a car accident. inconsiderate of the little girl that was orphaned," professor sato's heart ached at the memory, his eyes getting glassy.

"y/n got into the kdf under a fake name by using her skill and expertise to know why they were specifically after emi. and also to know if her parents were, by some miracle, still alive,"

"kenji, professor sato," mina interrupted, "dr. y/n is experiencing a panic attack. i suggest immediate assistance before her condition gets worse,"

kenji felt his heart drop, "where is she?" he spun around to face the ai, who was also worried for you.

"in the guest room, but kenji-"

he didn't let her finish. he rushed to the elevator, his brain screaming at him to get to you at once, "dad, watch emi, i'll go check in on y/n,"

once kenji skidded to a stop in front of your room, he found the door ajar. stepping in, he took in the bedroom's state of disarray.

several items were strewn across the room as though you had stumbled over them. the sheets on the bed were yanked off, leaving the mattress exposed.

but most of your things were gone, and so were you, leaving the balcony door open.

he sat alone in the empty room, consumed by a wave of guilt that seemed to crush him. he replayed the argument over and over in his mind, your broken expression, berating himself for the heated words he had spoken and the hurtful tone he had used.

he regretted allowing his emotions to boil over and push you away. the silence of the room was almost deafening, intensifying his sense of remorse and longing for your presence.

TAGLIST !

@earth-to-mee @sassy-cat-in-town @breaddippedinorangejuice @nuhteyam @gameboigyu @byunpum @jennypenny-19 @doublebunv @moonjellyfishie @m00nd0v3 @despacito-uwu16 @reivelmin @seyoran @warlike-morning @crimson-mage-02 @b3e-sat0 @miffysoo @t4naiis @lovingyeet  @imsimping4life @mmeerraa @btszn @jusmango-shak @yobriisstuff @goldenpoison @fruchtgeschmack @iateurdad16 @bandolls @lovingyee @reivelmin @f-ergj @arrozyfrijoles23 @aise-30 @simp-hub @armycaratlover

AUTHOR'S NOTE !

ahhh!! i'm sorry for the angst, my loves!

they will make it up to each other so, don't worry about it. even after i finish the series, i'll be writing drabbles because i can't get enough of kenji sato. if you guys have any requests, don't hesitate to send them.

also, do you guys want another smut chapter? i think it'll be an overkill. but if you guys want it, i'll make it work somehow;)

let me know below <33

[prettynpinkputhy]

Taste of sin 🍎

Warning MDNI⚠️: Sexual themes, language, violence, bondage , angst etc

Synopsis: mc reunites with Caleb but something feels…off.

Like, comment, share for more lads content✨

Want a part 2? comment below⬇️

w.c: 2.k

Your breath hitches, mouth gaping with shock as a ghost stands before you. Caleb. The same Caleb who’d walk you to school and fight off bullies. The same one who wiped your tears and bandaged your wounds because you were too clumsy. The same eyes, hair, and smell. But something was different. He’s changed. His stare was glazed over, as if looking through you. His past friendly smile now a cold grimace.

What happened to him? You think, wrist burning from fighting against the cuffs locked securely around them.

The legs of your seat scratch the wooden floor beneath you. “Caleb?! You’re alive!” You cry wanting nothing more than to burst free and wrap him in a hug so tight he’d bruise. Could this mean grandma was alive too? Did he save her? Your mind races with endless scenarios of them both being safe and sound. He slithers around you like a serpent, scanning your every breath and movement.

The cool leather of his gloved hand brushes your neck ever so slightly. “So you haven’t forgotten me.”

“No, no never. I thought you were gone…”

He cuts you off. “And you didn’t even see for yourself. You blindly took the word of your precious Hunter association.” He says the words as if they’re rancid.

Your eyes plead with him, thoughts racing with conspiracies. “Why wouldn’t I? I saw the team pull your body from the rubble.”

“Tch. Now that can’t be true considering I’m standing right here in front of you. Tell me, did you help them plan this? Cooperate and you won’t be harmed.” You feel a cool mechanical item press behind your ear. A faint shock zaps your sensitive flesh just enough to make you hiss.

“Caleb,That hurts!” you pant.

He pulls the device away, walking around to face you once more. Using his evol he yanks a chair forward before sitting down directly in front of your knees. You can see it now, the black weapon that delivered the shock. His slender fingers run along the length of it, your chest rises and falls.

“Talk or I’ll up the voltage. Are you working for them?”

Your eyes dart wildly from your restrained state to your childhood companion who’s supposed to be dead. “I am a hunter. Of course I work for them Caleb! You know that.” He pushes the head of the rod to your thigh. “Last chance.” You shake your head, lip quivering. His brows raise and he nods to himself before pressing the button, this time it’s far worse. Your thigh tenses as pure electricity is delivered into your bare leg. You chose the Worst possible day to wear a skirt.

A scream of pain rips from your throat. Your head hangs with exhaustion, sweat sliding down the nape of your neck. Your thighs tremble with aftershock. He growls and shoots to his feet, his evol loses control for a moment and sends the chair flying into the wall. His gloved hand grips your jaw harshly, yanking your eyes to him. “How could you betray me, y/n! Do you have any idea what they did to me?! Cut and pried me open like a fucking lab rat!” Tears well in your eyes, your brows scrunching in confusion and sympathy. Someone hurt Caleb. Why would they do that?

“W-who hurt you?” You manage to whimper despite his hold on your jaw. His eyes widen, a flicker of vulnerability peeking through before it quickly clouds back over.

“You know who. They wanted to harvest my Evol and you helped them. Lured me back into that house. Abducting me Is one thing but…Josephine? She practically raised us! How could you do that?” He throws your face to the side with disgust.

“You think I started that explosion?! I was right beside you Caleb!” You sob, unable to believe these accusations.

He whirls around to face you, hand rubbing his chin. “You may not have lit the flame but you stood with them And watched us burn.” His clenched fist shakes. You thrash around. This wasn’t Caleb. It couldn’t be. You have to escape and get away from this imposter before he kills you.

“Trying to run?” He flicks his finger down and an invisible crushing weight forces your feet to the ground. “Looks like this kitty needs a bell.” He saunters over to a place out of your line of vision. When he comes back into frame he’s carrying something bionic and circular. Is that…a collar?

“Don’t do this Caleb! It’s me. y/n. Pipsqueak, remember?” You desperately try to get through to him. He doesn’t budge. His gaze cold as he bends down to buckle the collar tightly around your neck. A red light beams from it. A detonator maybe? Every swallow caused it to squeeze and choke you.

“No. You died with Josephine in that fire. The girl I knew…she’s gone. Replaced with a greedy monster. How much did they pay you, huh? Was it worth the price of our lives?” His hand clamps down on your shoulder, his hot breath fanning your ear. “Did you even miss me?”

You whimper.

“Shh no crying. This is supposed to be a happy reunion.” His hot slick tongue snakes out to lap away a stray tear falling down your cheek. “tastes like sin.”

You tremble under his touch, your words trapped by the collar around your neck. “My very own Eve…tempted by the apple and tainted by blood.” His whispers, the invisible force parts your knees suddenly. His leather clad finger brushes down the length of your body till settling at the hem of your skirt. You wiggle, breath coming in cropped pants. This wasn’t your Caleb. It was impossible.

“Caleb, I swear I’d never betray you. Let’s figure this out together. We’ll take down the people that hurt you.” The muscles in your legs stretch from the force of his evol keeping them pried apart.

His laugh is devoid of humor. ” Why would I trust you?”

“What can I do to show you?” Your eyes blaze up at him with conviction.

“Would you be willing to prove your loyalty?” He breathes, kissing the crown of your ear. The room is chilly, goosebumps raise on your skin. The only thing keeping you warm is the closeness of his solid uniform clad body. His badges prick the skin of your back as he presses against you. Were those honorable or had he done something horrific to achieve them.

Your brows bunch in confusion. “Prove it, how?”

“Surrender yourself to me.” That mischievous finger slips under the cover of your skirt and rubs circles along your inner thigh. “I’ll only touch you…if you want me too.”

Perhaps your head was fuzzy from lack of oxygen but you did want that…very badly.

“I-I want you too.” You pant.

He inches closer to your heat. “What a naughty girl…begging to be punished for her betrayal.” The tip of his finger rubs the damp crotch of your panties. Your back arches in the chair, bound hands struggling to no avail. You were trapped and at his mercy. He presses hot open mouth kisses down your neck and shoulder as he explores you. Without warning he tugs your panties to the side and pushes your aching button. You cry out and try to force your legs shut—his evol works against you leaving you spread wide for him.

There was nothing to be done. All you can do is take it.

“Now that you’ve fallen into my trap…there is no escaping my little prey.” His long finger traces the split folds of your cunt, rubbing your arousal around your slick throbbing bud of nerves. Your cheeks are flush and breathing labored. He rubs in fast tight circles, your hips buck against the wooden seat. Small whines fall from your lips as he teases your most sensitive area. Just as you feel that familiar pressure build up, he pulls away. You don’t see it but you hear a popping noise as he sucks your nectar clean.

“So responsive. Let’s do an experiment and see if it’s the same in other places.” You’re still reeling from his assault on your clit when his strong veiny hands grip the collar of your shirt and rips it open. Buttons fly all over the space from the aggressive act. The air hits your warm bare breast. It wasn’t like you not to wear a bra but unfortunately you hadn’t had time for laundry due to an overflow of wanderer incidents. “What a nice surprise.” He groans, cupping your chest with both hands and kneading the plush flesh. Your nipples are hard against his palms, the feeling makes his cock pulse inside his black pressed pants.

He drops them, admiring how they move. He walks around and kneels on the floor adjacent to you. You’re a mess, flushed, legs wide open, clothes ripped and restrained. truly a vision to behold. His rough calloused thumb runs over the tight pebbled nub, making you hiss. He rubs his finger back and forth over your sensitive peak, a hot blush creeping up his ears.

“They’re even better than I imagined.” He moans, leaning forward to flick his warm wet tongue over it. Your head falls back against the chair as he sucks at your needy nipples. His lips are soft and you wonder how they’d feel to have wrapped around your clit. He rotates between licks and sucks, his finger pinches and rolls the other giving it just as much attention. The popping and slurping noises are incredibly lewd. By the time he pulls away your body is like putty. But he isn’t done with you.

You gasp as he plunges his lengthy finger inside your slimy hot channel. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he starts pumping in and out at a feverish pace. Your insides squelch and clamp around him hungrily.

“This pussy is just as greedy as you are, my little sinner.” He growls, adding a second finger. The stretch is intense. He curls them deep within, rubbing at the ridged nodule hidden deep inside your canal. You bite your lip to keep from screaming. Your walls flutter around him as he massages your G Spot with ease. You’re slumped in the chair now, hips jutted forward at the edge of the seat like a bitch in heat—seeking solace in his touch. Your sweet cream trickles down his palm as he thrust in and out harder, faster.

“Your clit is so hard, begging to be sucked. Unfortunately for you, only good honest girls can make use of my mouth.”

“Ah ah please Caleb! Too much. So…close” your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm approaches. Your hips raise and thighs tremble as you spray milky fluid all over his hand and uniform. He extracts slowly, using his clean hand to grab your face hard and the other to shove his slick fingers past your lips.

“Taste your sin. Isn’t it sweet?”

[wittyandobsessed]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Gregory House x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | hurt, comfort, mention of death and grief.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: 20. Watching them cry and not knowing what to do

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You had sworn you wouldn’t let House see you like this—tears slipping unchecked down your cheeks, your breath coming in uneven gasps, your body trembling under the weight of a day that had been too much. But here you were, sitting on the floor of his office, arms wrapped around your knees, staring at the pattern of the tiles while silent sobs wracked your body.

He hadn’t said anything when he walked in. No sarcastic remark, no well-placed jab to deflect the tension. Just the sharp click of his cane against the floor as he came to a halt near his desk, blue eyes scanning the scene before him.

House was an ass. You had known that long before you ever became more than just another doctor in the hospital who tolerated his antics. He was cruel, callous, and emotionally unavailable—at least, that’s what he wanted everyone to believe. But now, in this moment, he looked completely lost.

You felt his gaze linger on you, heavy with an unspoken question. Why? What had broken you so badly that you were here, like this, in his space?

He shifted on his feet, gripping the handle of his cane with white knuckles, then cleared his throat. “You know, there’s a rule against crying in here. Violates some kind of hospital decorum or something.”

You let out a weak laugh, more of a choked breath than anything else. “Guess I’m breaking protocol then.”

He took a hesitant step closer, his brows furrowing. This was unfamiliar territory for him—he knew how to tear people apart, how to dismantle their emotions like a puzzle. But putting them back together? That was something else entirely.

“You wanna tell me what happened, or should I just start diagnosing your breakdown?”

You shook your head, wiping at your cheeks with the sleeve of your lab coat. “It’s nothing.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, because people always break down in their boss’s office over nothing.”

You swallowed hard. You knew you could tell him. That he wouldn’t push, wouldn’t tell you everything was going to be fine, because House didn’t do platitudes. And maybe that was exactly what you needed.

“I lost a patient today,” you admitted softly. “A kid. Twelve years old. We tried everything. But it wasn’t enough.”

Silence settled between you. House had lost more patients than he could count, but he didn’t talk about it. Didn’t let it get to him—at least, that’s what he claimed. You weren’t sure you believed that.

His jaw tightened, and he exhaled through his nose. “It never is.”

The honesty of his words hit you harder than any attempt at comfort ever could. It never is. It would never be enough. You could be the best doctor in the world, and still, death would win sometimes.

You felt the weight of his presence as he finally moved, settling down on the floor next to you with a quiet grunt, stretching out his bad leg with a wince. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t offer some grand revelation about how to deal with the grief. But he stayed. And for House, that meant something.

Minutes passed. Eventually, the tightness in your chest eased just a little. You weren’t sure if it was because of the quiet, or because House was simply there, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.

“You could’ve cried anywhere,” he said finally, his voice softer than usual. “Why here?”

You hesitated, then gave him the only answer you could. “Because you wouldn’t tell me it’s going to be okay.”

His fingers drummed against his cane. “No,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. And for once, there was no sarcasm, no mocking amusement. Just understanding.

You sniffled and rested your head back against the wall. House didn’t reach for you. He didn’t tell you it would get easier. But he stayed.

And that was enough.

▸ Everything

@alexxavicry

▸ House MD

@mayo-i @dustie-faerie @awxcoffeexno @khxna

[wyvernest]

requested by @littlelilbun <3

cocoon cuddles

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: a little hurt! & comfort, a lot of fluff, miguel being extremely soft and affectionate, miguel speaking Spanish? the usual

summary: miguel comforts you after a very rough day

Truth be told, today was awful. The kind of day that makes your head swim in all the worst kinds of thoughts.

As you enter Miguel's mansion, you're quick to frown following the realisation of his absence. Another rough anomaly, you think. Just great.

You feel like a toddler that's been promised the most beautiful cake at the end of a tiring, horrible day only for the time to come with no cake. 

You've been looking forward to the comfort of his embrace all day long. Ever since you've received that terrible news, wasting all your mental energy simply by thinking about it and all the ways you could or could not fix your problems.

Entering the bedroom after an undeserved shower, you let yourself fall face first into the mattress, succumbing to your worries and seemingly irreparable issues. Frustration and dismay boiled in your chest, almost suffocating.

You don't know how long it's been until you hear the familiar loud thump on the tall windows of the first floor, no doubt another careful landing of Miguel's on the thick glass, followed by the ever so funny sound of his talons scratching into the rough outer walls of the house before pushing the translucent door open.

You gather all that's left of your power to jolt out of bed welcoming him with an aching yet open heart.

His firm footsteps climbing up the stairs quicken at the sound of your own, and before you know it, you are reunited.

"Siento llegar tarde. Te extrañé, mi vida." (I'm sorry I'm late, I missed you)

He extends his arms for you to jump into his embrace, but you're stunned. Your love for him suddenly explodes along with all the sadness that's filled your being all this time, and you break down. 

He's so sweet. Even when you're upset, he manages to cheer you up and take your mind off everything else with just a look and barely a few words.

Tears stain your cheeks as you approach him slowly with watery eyes, bumping your head face forward into his chest, arms cuddled tightly against him. Your gentle sobs are muffled into his suit, occasionally interrupted by sharp, quiet inhales.

"Bebita", He coos, affectionately and full of sweetened pity, disappointed and heartbroken with your evident sorrow. He wraps his arms around you and lets you cry into his chest, knowing that words aren't necessary anymore. 

You can talk later, tell him about it all. Now he needs to get you out of the pit you've sunken into, full of confusion and misery.

Walking you back to the bedroom, he places you softly on the bed, and before you can figure out what he's planning, he wraps the white blankets around you, efficiently rendering you unable to move. 

You don't fight against it, the soft sobs fading into a slight amused smile.

"What are you doing?" You speak impossibly quiet and gentle, watching him gather the materials together with unnecessary focus, as if he was working in the lab with millimetric utensils. You giggle at the sight, and his heart grows warm at the sound.

He looks at you, smirking without answering. You shuffle in the thin cocoon, finding a comfortable position for your wrists. Finally, he ties a knot with two joined corners and moves to hover above you. 

He scans all the features of your face, the glistening skin of your flushed cheeks, your softened eyes and agape mouth, ready to protest.

"Now wha-!" you attempt to speak, interrupted by his mouth on yours. He places an infinitely loving smooch to your pout, all anxiety clearing like clouds swept away by cool winds on a summer morning after a midnight thunderstorm.

When he moves away, all warmth and breath is stolen from you. Before you can clumsily chase after his kisses in your confinement, he picks you up and shuffles over to the headboard, placing you on his lap.

He holds you with a hand wide spread on your upper arm, your head comfortably nestled in his elbow pit. His other arm is draped across your waist, affectionate and protective.

"Mira lo guapa que eres." (Look how beautiful you are)

He kisses your forehead, another unhurried, lingering smooch. "I can't bear to see you like this, bebita." He kisses both your cheeks, his warm breath fanning over your face making your eyelids grow heavy with cosiness and adoration. You feel at home, safe, in his strong arms and under his ever loving touch.

"I'll take care of you." A kiss to your temple. Another on your cheekbone. "I'll take care of everything." More kisses around your mouth, and one to your right eye that finally lets a giggle erupt out of you.

You struggle against the cotton cocoon, wanting to free your arms and grab his handsome face in return. His hold tightens around you.

"Tranquila." (Relax.) He moves his head to the crook of your neck, placing a wet kiss below your jaw, making you instantly melt into his heated embrace, almost instinctively. He inhales deeply, leaning his temple against yours. 

You close your eyes, content and finally serene.

He nuzzles his nose in your pinky cheek, resuming the pecks. "Nothing is worth your smile. I'll travel through any universe, however far, to destroy anything that's troubling you, mi reina." 

He finally gives in and kisses your soft lips, making you sigh gently into his mouth. 

You feel your entire soul pour into his, a fresh mountain stream slowly flowing into a fresh, sun enlightened pond. Almost chest to chest, you feel his heart speed up, in sync with yours.

You wouldn't ever want to have it any other way.

divider by @cafekitsune

a/n: HOPE IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT!!! i still cant believe i couldn't find a pic for the cuddling position i was describing but anyways i hope it's clear enough 🫠🫠🫠

[h0useslut]

fire away 𓂃⋆.˚

pairing : gregory house x fem!coworker!reader

w/c : 1k

genre : hurt/comfort, slow burn, romance

warnings : emotional distress, implied anxiety/panic attack, crying, soft!House

summary : reader has been slipping— house notices. and when everything finally unravels, he’s there in the only way he knows how— quiet, steady and a bit too tender for his own good

a/n : i may or may not have made a part two on this…

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

There’s a reservoir in your eyes— House can see it. In the way you carry yourself, how you give short, clipped answers whenever he’s discussing a patient.

He doesn’t say something at first.

He thinks that it would be better if he stopped noticing, if he pushed down the weight in his chest whenever he caught glimpses of your expression.

Tired, drained. Trying to keep it together for his sake? Or the teams? He didn’t know.

He’s infuriated, both with himself and the fact that you were so out of it.

He notices again, while you’re trying to solve yet another case. You’re almost hunched over the table, pretending to read the patient’s last lab reports. You fail, miserably so. Because House notices the fact you’ve zoned out and your chest is rising and falling with shaky breaths.

Of course, he doesn’t let it go.

He decides to poke you until you let it out.

“So… Y/N, do you want to tell the class why our super healthy patient fell into a coma? Or are you trying to make the pages flip with telekinesis?”

Usually, you’d snap back. Throw in another sarcastic remark, and make him smirk. But now… now, you just sat there. Pretending that it didn’t affect you. Or made your chest ache. So you tried to reply fast enough so both the team and House wouldn’t ask what was wrong.

“I— I was just reading this um— His last lab results,” You said, voice coming out strained.

He did not like the sound of that.

“No need. Thank you for your disassociation, because we’ve already gone through that”

His words stung once again. You nodded, muttering a small apology. Why were you like this? What was going on with you? And why was he so affected by the way your face fell when he teased you? — like you were so used to being jabbed.

His voice echoed through the room, commanding Cameron, Chase and Foreman to do multiple procedures and blood draws.

You swore he said something to you, but as you turned to leave, he placed his cane to stop you from doing so.

“What’s gotten your lab coat in a twist?” — another pause — “Or should I say panties?” His words still tinged with the same kind of sarcasm as before.

“I don’t want a pep talk, House” You protested, trying your best to sound as cold as possible. He caught your weakened voice almost instantly.

“Oh no, no. Me neither”

Another beat of silence.

“What the hell is wrong with you Y/N?” His tone was more gentle now, cane dropping back to the floor as he tried to bring you closer.

His hands were warm on your arms, and you almost flinched.

You could hear your name being called again, but the growing ache in your chest was making it hard to concentrate.

Pulling back wasn’t an option. He held you there firmly, anchoring you. Seeing everything you wouldn’t dare to let out.

“Y/N…” He whispered, softer this time — more like a question.

Your breathing was already ragged as you snapped out of your trance. “I’m sorry— Oh my god” You breathed out, eyes glistening with unshed tears as you tried not to fall apart.

“Talk to me” You could feel the soft brush of his fingers against your arm, but it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t believe what demon had possessed him then, but he brought you closer. Close enough for you to feel his warmth and let his scent engulf you.

“I’m not— I’m not okay” It came out like a whimper, small and broken. The choked sob that followed was the cherry on top, and something inside him broke as well.

You couldn’t make out what was going on next— just his arms around you, voice soft and low as he tried to remind you to breathe.

He wasn’t the type to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Hold you tight and shush you as if you were a baby.

But that night, when the world felt heavy on your shoulders and you needed someone to let it out…

He wanted to be there.

Gregory House wanted to be there for you.

Later, he insisted on taking you back to his place. He kept a close eye on you through the entire drive, and let you curl up on his couch while he rummaged through his drawers to find another bottle of Vicodin.

You were crying when he got back. He didn’t ask why. Or what was wrong.

It seemed like he knew. He knew you’d been holding in a lot. For a long time.

And this time, without hesitation — he pulled you in his chest.

“I’m here” He whispered, stroking your hair.

“I’ve got you” His tone was hushed, lips against your temple — like the words would vanish if he said them any louder. Like they were meant for you.

He held you there until you felt better. Till your soft sobs turned into steady breathing and the tight grip you had on his shirt loosened.

Neither of you said much — And for the first time time, — silence didn’t feel empty.

Gregory House thought he couldn’t be there for anyone, but…

You might’ve been the exception.

The realisation dawned on him heavily, though it wasn’t undeniable.

He didn’t move, not even after you’d calmed down. Even when his leg started aching. His hand on your back rubbed soothing circles, feeling you shuddering every once in a while.

Eventually— You broke the silence. Meeting his gaze, that looked… Concerned? Gentle? You couldn’t place your finger on it.

Your voice came out hoarse from all the crying.

“I didn’t mean to fall apart like that”

He stared at you for a moment, studying you with those sharp, unreadable eyes. But something in him shifted—

“Picked just the right person to do that, hm?” He teased, but his voice was far from teasing.

Your response was a small little sigh — a sad sounding sigh.

“Hey,” He whispered to you.

“Stay the night”

Despite the ongoing whirlwind in your mind, you nodded in his chest. And when you finally succumbed to sleep, he held you a little tighter.

[mistywaves98]

how would yandere! albedo non-con us?? just a thought

✧･ﾟ:* ->How would yandere! Albedo non con you?

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: Dark content, NSFW, Non con (duh), same old aphrodisiac usage scenario, slight sadist! albedo, ending was kinda rushed, a sprinkle of degradation!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Minor writing smut! DNI interact if uncomfy!

You never expected that your superior would do something like this to you, making you consume this strange concoction that made your knees feel weak and a strange heat build up between your legs.

Your sobs meant nothing to Albedo as he forced you onto one of the lab tables. His gloved hand held the back of your neck down, smushing your cheek against the cold marble as the other snaked its way into the front of your pants.

No matter how many times you tried to tell him to stop and that you didn't want this, he'd just keep going further and further, pushing way past your boundaries. He merely shut your pleas down with a simple 'if you didn't want this, then you wouldn't be dripping all over the floor right now'.

He knows it's all his fault that you're in such a state and your body is merely reacting to the strong aphrodisiac he made you drink, but it doesn't deter him from gaslighting you into thinking that he's not actually doing anything wrong and that it's your own fault.

In the end, you can only babble out useless protests as his fingers hook around the waistband of your pants, pulling it down along with your panties to reveal your soaked pussy. The sight makes him smirk as dark lust fills his eyes. He trails a hand up and down your slit, collecting your essence before holding it up to your face for you to see. He leans in, hot breath brushing your ear as he speaks,"Look at how wet you are, so desperate for your pussy to be filled, aren't you?"

You don't even get a choice in your answer as his hand that was on the nape of your neck moves up to cup your cheeks, squeezing them tightly as he moves your head back and forth in the mocking gesture of a nod. Albedo laughs at the pitiful sight that is you before moving his coated digits back down to your neglected pussy that seems even more wet than before. Without warning, he plunges his middle and ring finger inside your tight hole, making you gasp sharply as your walls contract around his digits.

Tears fall down your face as he mercilessly fingers you, making scissors motions to stretch you out even more. The pain is like a searing hot sensation that only adds to the heat provided by the aphrodisiac and you find that beads of sweat have formed on your forehead and are dripping down your face. Your body involuntarily tenses as your orgasm approaches and Albedo can feel it, his smirk widening as he increases his pace, chuckling as your pussy flutters around him I'm return.

"Gonna cum? Go on then, you pathetic slut. Claiming that you don't want this all while squeezing my fingers like a cheap whore." You try to retort, but Albedo his quick to cover your mouth with his other hand, shoving three fingers knuckle deep into your cavern, making you choke as you gag and cough, effectively cutting off your protests. It isn't long before your climax crashes down on you like a huge wave, your body convulsing as you cry out. Your vision goes white for a second as you orgasm hard around his digits. The aphrodisiac enhances these sensations even more, making the entire experience even more intense.

Albedo watches with satisfaction as your hot cum coats his fingers and drips onto the clean floor below. "There we go... What a disgusting yet beautiful sight. I'll be sure to document this down to the last detail. Are you ready for the next part of the experiment?" Even though you're too fucked out to respond, you wouldn't have been able to in the first place as Albedo's fingers remain stuffed in your mouth.

The sound a belt being unbuckled can be heard as he pulls down his pants and boxers, freeing his hard cock from its confines. He positions himself at your entrance before suddenly thrusting into you, bottoming out immediately as he groans at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in. A muffled moan of pain leaves your puffy lips, fresh tears forming in your eyes as he wastes no time in pulling back out, only to impale you once again. He fucks you with an even rhythm, making sure to drive the head of his cock to the deepest parts of your pussy.

Your nails scrape against the smooth surface of the table as your body rocks back and forth from the force of his thrusts. The atmosphere is warm, with the sounds of your broken cries and his pleasured moans mixing together as he uses your body for his pleasure. One hand presses between your shoulder blades while the other grasps your hip with a bruising grip.

Your body continues to be abused for what feels like hours, soon you don't even have the voice to cry out and can only let out choked whimpers whenever he rips another orgasm from your tired pussy. By the time he's finished, your cunt is overflowing with his hot cum as it flows onto the floor below. Your body is covered in sweat and uncontrollably twitches from time to time. Albedo thinks that you look like a piece of art as he runs a hand through your disheveled locks, tugging slightly just to hear your sweet little sounds.

"I'd say the experiment was a success. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to write this down as it's fresh in my mind. But don't fret, I'll be back soon enough" He says as he moves away from you and pulls up his pants. He turns around and exits the room, the sound of his boots clacking against the floor as he leaves you there, broken and used like a worthless toy.

[mandowifey]

Deprication

Miguel O'hara x Reader

Miguel Masterlist

Drabble

Warnings: NSFW (reader is female and 18+), dub con/non con, captive reader, My miguel is a bad boy, not a good boy, aggressive miguel, he's a nasty lil mans, biting, blood, mentions of force, implications of ownership.

Had to get this out of my system. I did not proof read this!

× × ×

"When has running ever worked for you?"

The lab floor felt cold against your skin but compared nothing to the ice in Miguel's eyes. He stood over you, claws curled and red eyes searching. You hardly recognized him like this, feral and borderline beastial. With a groan, you shift in your position and attempt to sit up, ready to begin your apology when something sticky locked your wrist to the ground.

"Answer me."

You were trapped now. Even with one hand free, you'd never be able to claw the webbing off your skin without his help. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you force a timid smile and look up towards O'hara's brooding form. "I-im sorry, I'm not sure what came over me. Just was being a little spontaneous." You laugh, but your nerves are shot and the unease is clear as day in your expression.

Miguel wasn't buying it, but he never did.

He dropped effortlessly into a crouch before you and shook his head. "We talked about this, kiddo. You don't try to run, and you don't get punished." Your breath draws in your throat as his large hands push your legs apart while he crawls between them. Miguel nudges your dress up your hips as his suit retracts over his pelvis.

"Im sorry," you whisper, tugging at your arm and watching him carefully.

"No, you aren't." The red dims from his eyes, but the callous expression remained. "Not yet."

Swiftly cutting your panties open with his claws, Miguel shifts himself into position against you. While you cannot see his cock, you knew how big he was from memory. The man drops his head to your neck and breathes in your scent, listening to you whine as he nudges your entrance. "Better relax." He licks your throat and nips. "Or don't. Doesn't matter to me."

The pain is searing. He bottoms out on the first thrust, filling your cunt excruciatingly full. Your head tilts as you scream, heat blossoming across your cheeks as he forces you to stretch around him. Your cry is cut short as his palm covers your mouth, muffling you as he sets a brutal and focused pace. Each thrust causing your smaller frame to bounce under him.

"There you go, just like that. Knew you'd come around." His voice grunts in your ear, his hips impacting yours bruisingly hard. Your free hand flails, grasping at him where it can and sinking your nails into the meat of his bicep. All you can do is take his cock while he used you like he owned you. Miguel gives a groan, smitten by how tightly you squeeze around him and how warm you are. He fucks with purpose, driving his cock with precision and knocking your cervix.

You can only scream against his hand, your pelvis taking the brunt of his assault. Stars pop behind your eyes, and in your dismay, you feel yourself rapidly rising. Miguel could smell it and shifted to sink his claws into the floor and begin rutting into you harder. "Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" He snaps his hips to yours, plowing your cunt relentlessly hard. As Spiderman, he had endless stamina and strength to use against you.

As your orgasm rose, you hit and pushed at his arm, trying to fight it. Even while he bullied your cervix, your eyes rolled back, and your body arched. You were chasing it now, your legs opening wide and hips angling to help him glide unhindered inside of you. It only took two more thrusts before you came crashing down. Clenching around him, you shudder as you burst, sobbing against his hand while you cum.

Miguel rocks harder, fucking you through it before he hunkered down and shoved as far as he could go. Snarling like an animal, his eyes close, and his mouth latches to your shoulder. Pain blooms as he breaks your skin with his fangs. He ruts twice more before stilling and shuddering. You can feel his massive cock throb within you, followed by the heavy, hot spurts of his cum drenching your innards.

Removing his hand from your mouth, he moves and kisses you hard. Blood smears between your lips, and he dips his tongue between your teeth, groaning as he keeps you two connected. He remains on you like that for a few moments before finally lifting his head and sitting up. Relaxed back on his knees, Miguel watches as he slowly slides out of you, smirking when you twitch and whine.

"Next time you run, I won't be so gentle."

[hitsuzenhusbands]

something just happened to me. here's approx 1.7k words of a trope i'll never get over

-

The wedding is all white, glowing and glistening like freshly pulled teeth. William is dripping in it, suit freshly pressed, fit to his wider form (courtesy of all the time he���s been spending with Annette, feigning domesticity, clinking rings preparing a dinner he nearly always ruins, giggling over spilt wine and unevenly chopped ingredients) and stark, LED white–save for one single red rose, a spot of blood clear against his left lapel, its petals crooked and withered from where he’s been running nervous fingers over it all day. 

It’s all over now, though. His frayed nerves flitter out of his pursed lips in a thin line of smoke he doesn’t choke on anymore, simply lets circumvent charred lungs and stain the air with the scent of addiction. He’s become addicted to a lot of things, recently. 

Addicted to Annette, he joked earlier, as if his hands weren’t slick with sweat, twitching every minute he spent off his pills at her request. Just one day, she had told him, he doesn’t need them to get married, does he?

Addicted to cigarettes, but that’s a given–ever since Wesker lit his first with an ever-polished Zippo, allowing him entrance into his quiet moments, his breaks spent spilling ash onto academy grass, the only time he could ever be truly away from the world. The habit followed them both into the depths of Umbrella, and now it’s here, backs pressed into brick, passing what was left of the pack Wesker smuggled in between them. It was full, earlier, before the ceremony, before William was tucked away in his spot at the altar, rocking back and forth on giddy, anxious feet as Annette walked down the aisle–before Wesker was there, right at his side. William doesn’t know that, though. He doesn’t know every butt Wesker snubbed out until his perfectly clean soles were smeared in cinders, and Wesker doesn’t tell him.

“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” William brushes his hair away from his eyes as it falls from his middle part, once carefully combed as he preened himself in the bathroom mirror, desperately trying to rid his eyes and cheeks of the redness every hot tear had left in its wake. Wesker isn’t entirely sure why he was crying, wet and ugly, hands pressed to his face, splashing himself with cold water and running the faucet to drown out his choked sobs. He bore witness to the outburst in silence.

Wesker remembers when he used to wear his hair like that all the time. Ages spent fogging up their shared bathroom, combing through all-nighter tied knots, pulling ties tight around his neck, tucking shirts into freshly ironed pants, all so that he’d have an easier time sucking up to Markus and Spencer alike. Annette has never seen him like that–she only knows his matted side part and ill-fitting button-ups, the lines Umbrella has since worn into his face and the bags they’ve carved beneath his eyes. 

She takes to the dance floor with no particular ease, but her friends gather around her and her dress flows with such elegance Wesker isn’t sure anyone would notice her fumbled steps and half-trips aside from him. He swirls his drink in idle hand, the alcohol stronger than anything he’s ever had. Then again, there was whatever William had snuck into their dorm way back when, tucked beneath his bed until they had cause to celebrate and drink the whole thing in one night he can’t quite recall. “She’s fine.”

“Albert.” William sighs. “Don’t say that. You like her. I know you like her.”

He does like her, in a way. She’s perfectly fine to have at the lab. She minds her own business, finishes her work on time, and whenever they do cross paths she is relatively pleasant, more so than many of the other scientists he’s met (William, being one, with his sharp temper and wild possession over the communal coffee machine). Still, he shrugs and sips from his crystalline glass.

“Okay, fine. You didn’t want to be here, I get it,” Wesker used the invitation as a coaster for approximately a week before William just about begged him–his only colleague, the only guest that wasn’t invited by Annette–to RSVP. For my sake, Albert. “But you showed up, and I’m grateful, but the least you could do is be nice about my goddamn wife!” The last words are hissed between grit, caffeine-tinged teeth as he turns to face Wesker at last, piercing blue eyes wedged beneath knit brows trying to catch Wesker’s unmoving gaze beneath his sunglasses. He fails, of course, and throws the still-lit cigarette onto the ground, storming away in a blur of mumbled curses and shuffling porcelain fabric. 

Wesker watches as he meets up with Annette on the dance floor. He drinks when all the tension eases from William’s shoulders the moment she pulls him into her arms and convinces him to sway with her. He drinks when he runs his fingers through her hair. He drinks when he settles his hand on her waist. He drinks when he presses his forehead to hers and, for the first time in a long while, looks entirely at ease.

-

He isn’t sure why he stays, but he certainly doesn’t leave, even when the sky fills with patchy clumps of stars and the glasses wearing dents into the bridge of his nose becomes less of a peculiar fashion statement and more of a topic of whispered conversation between Annette’s wine-drunk friends, giggling and pointing as if he can’t hear them. 

He’s drunk, too, but instead of contributing to workplace gossip and shedding tears over the newlyweds, he’s gone to the bathroom to throw up approximately three times and is bordering on a fourth when William joins him at the bar. It’s a solemn sort of olive branch he offers, sliding a beer in front of Wesker and drinking greedily from his own. There’s a buzz about him, flushing his face with the same pink that crawls up his neck, released from the previously firm grip of his collar. Wesker averts his gaze as best he can. 

“Sorry about that. About earlier.” William’s voice slurs through a mouth tinged red by what he can only assume is remnants of Annette’s lipstick he couldn’t quite wipe from the cracks in his lips. Wesker doesn’t respond. “I have a lot on my mind, y’know? I guess I just…I don’t know. I want you to…”

“To what, Birkin?”

He falters at the name, drawing back into himself like a wounded animal with just enough fight in him to bare his teeth and cough out a stilted: “To support me in the biggest decision of my life? If you ever got married–”

“I won’t.”

“If. I’d be there, alright? I wouldn’t sit there the whole time, fucking stone-faced, like I didn’t give a shit about my best friend.”

“I’m not going to get married,” Wesker repeats, taking a long swig from his drink, wincing slightly at the taste despite how numb his throat has become. “You weren’t, either.”

William glances back at Annette, dress wrapped up so that she can sit comfortably in a chair. She’s taken off her heels for the moment, having spent the past hour complaining about how uncomfortable they were while William insisted that he’d take care of her once they went home. She had laughed at that, a rare chuckle like tinkling bells and all the years ahead of them to spend tending to one another. Her hair has fallen from where it was carefully braided around her head, now lying on her shoulders in perfect waves, shifting when she turns to speak to the remaining guests not spilling alcohol as they dance and giggle in shrill tones to the pulsing music that sets Wesker’s lingering migraine alight. 

“No,” William answers at last, defeated. “But how could I not?”

Unfazed, Wesker continues. "You weren’t going to get married, you weren’t going to throw your life away for anyone.”

“I’m not throwing my life away–”

“All the time you could be spending making a difference in this world, you’re going to waste it on her, some…woman you barely know–”

“I know Annette!” William stands suddenly, hands pressed onto the bar to steady himself as his stool screeches behind him. Wesker meets his eyes, the bright red crawling up his cheeks in a mix of intoxication and growing irritation at every delicately picked word Wesker spits out in clipped, rigid syllables. 

“–and she doesn’t hardly know the half of you. Did you truly believe you were going to live out some idealized suburban life you conjured up? White picket fence, baby babbling in its cradle, calling out for a man who knows deep down he would never give up his work for anything?”

“I don’t know if I want a child!” He cries out, louder than he should, and quickly clamps a hand over his mouth as he returns to his stool. They both know it isn’t true. Wesker had caught a glimpse at the list on William’s desk, right next to some formulas scrawled down in chicken scratch only Wesker can decode: Emma, Sophia, Sherry, Annabelle, Liam, Oliver, Albert, Henry. "I don't have everything planned out, okay? Who does?"

Wesker does, of course, but he doesn't think about that. He clenches his fist so tightly it leaves bitten crescents in his palms, white knuckles digging into the polished wood of the countertop in a poor attempt to calm himself. “Albert–”

“You don’t even love her.”

William swings, and were Wesker more aware of his surroundings, he likely would have grabbed his trembling fist and bent William over the counter, but instead he simply catches it right in the jaw, blood trickling from his mouth as he follows its path right into the half-empty bottle beside him. It falls, rolls, cracks against the tile and spills beer across the floor, alerting the attention of everyone in earshot. Wesker steadies himself, adjusting his sunglasses from where they had tilted to reveal a single, bloodshot eye that glares at William with more emotion than either of them thought him to be physically capable. William merely stares back, chest heaving with coarse breath.

“Go home, Wesker.”