#sort of feel like I’m starting to have muscles that aren’t in my legs which is a new experience lol

[devoutjunk]

i am sorry to every mirror pic I’ve ever judged but I’ve been working out regularly for the first time in [redacted] and i feel so good?? cannot believe elle woods and my elementary school gym teacher were right…

[k-hotchoisan]

active recovery

<yunho x fem!reader>

sore thighs suck after leg day. thank god Yunho is there to offer his help to ease the soreness 🤍

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, contributing to the big cock!yunho agenda, leg day aftermath (soreness), it starts from an attempted massage and… yeah, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, mating press position, breeding, fingering

a/n: haven’t written Yunho in a hot minute + my attempt of distracting myself from my leg soreness from leg day 😒

wc: 1.8K / apply for taglist here 🤍

You wake up and you feel like lightning struck your legs, especially your inner thighs. You groan, feeling the soreness shoot up your muscles every time you move.

And to think you didn’t do enough squats the previous day. Your legs tremble slightly too even though you try to minimise any movement to the best of your ability.

Your hand combs through your messy bed in search of your phone. You find it and immediately scroll to your chats, tapping on the first one with Yunho’s name on it. 

[you]: I’m tapping out on gym today. My legs are fuckin toast. 

[yuyu🐶]: sounds like a skill issue. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m joking please don’t block me. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m coming over with food and some help ok?

You manage to muster the strength to leave your bed to wash up at least, forcing yourself to get used to the electricity running through your legs. 

The doorbell rings shortly and despite the jerks your legs were giving you on the way there, you manage to reach to the door to invite Yunho in, who has his hands busy with food like he promised. 

He sets up the table and he ensures you’ve eaten well before the both of you go to your bedroom to hear what he’s suggesting. 

“Which part of your leg is sore?” He asks, kneeling before you, giving your legs soft squeezes. You flinch and squeal when his fingers press against your thighs. Guess he’s got his answer. 

“Lie down for me. I’ll stretch you out”, Yunho instructs, and you do. 

Yunho starts with a slow massage, kneading against your sore muscles, ignoring your soft whimpers when his fingers press against a sore spot. It’s kind of working, but you still feel the sensitivity bursting through your nerves, and it makes you involuntarily twitch against Yunho’s touches. 

You groan when Yunho applies pressure on your thighs. He pushes your legs towards you, and he leans in. You try to ignore the suggestive position of Yunho’s crotch just pressing against yours while he’s stretching out your thigh, focusing on hoping to relieve any ounce of soreness at least.

Unfortunately, your soft groans aren’t helping with the situation. Try as Yunho might, ignoring you only seems to have your moans go straight to his dick. 

“Y/n, as much as I adore your voice, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t help it if I’m this sensitive”, you pout, not realising you ticked something in him. “And also your reactions are cute with your ears all red like that.” 

Yunho narrows his eyes, ignoring your words , and instead focusing on trying to finish your massage. When he’s done with one side, he switches to the other, doing the same action of folding your legs against your chest, his thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy once more. Your thoughts are starting to float to a less pure space.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You and Yunho are just simply gym buddies—well, gym buddies who have some sort of funny tension going on recently. And now that he’s just this physically close to you—touching, pressing, stretching you, you can’t seem to get your mind out of the gutter.

It wasn’t until Yunho’s palm spread over your thighs once more, massaging against your thick flesh that you let out another sudden moan at the pressure, that Yunho seems to hit his limit. It’s enough that he’s holding back considering that his hands are getting dangerously close up further your thighs, the way he had himself pressed against you at a rather interesting position, but you, moaning at every touch he’s applying onto you? He can only hold back so much.

“Sorry Yun. It’s just… it feels so good when you do it like that.”

Then, Yunho has you under him, he towers over you on your bed. 

“They say active recovery is good for soreness. Lucky for you, I know a pretty good form of active recovery. Your thighs are gonna be doing a lot more stretching though.”

You swallow hard, wondering if you should take on what he’s trying to allude. Seems like you pressed a little too much of his buttons. Oops. Not that you wanted to complain though.

In the most twisted ways, you always wondered how Yunho would compare—his build wasn’t large, but he’s still big. His hands are big—and he makes carrying dumbbells look like toys. You always wondered where else would be big.

And now, you’re about to find out.

“Now, keep your legs open like this for me”, he instructs. Your bottoms are peeled off you in seconds, and you have your legs spread open. Yunho’s fingers pry your lips open to get his pretty fingers wet enough, then he trails down your wet cunt, circling your clit slowly.  

“You gotta relax for me, baby”, he coaxes you in a tone that’s sending you butterflies in your stomach. “If you can’t take my fingers, my cock is gonna snap in you, y’know?”

That’s all the warning he gives before his slender fingers plunge into your wet heat, and your brain completely melts at the feeling. 

“Good girl”, he comforts. His other hand is gently rubbing and massaging against your thigh once more, ramping up the sensitivity before he trails down to accompany his other hand, fully rubbing circles on your clit. 

Your back is arched from how much Yunho is pressing against your g-spot on top of stimulating your clit. It’s making your toes curl and your mind go blank. 

“Gonna cum Yun,” you mutter through heavy breaths. Yunho is kissing up your neck to your jaw before his lips are on yours, the movements of his fingers encouraging you to release all over them.

“Cum for me, baby. It’ll feel so good, I promise”,  Yunho whispers into your ear, snapping the knot in your stomach. 

He eats up your moans with his kisses, taking advantage of your mouth when your orgasm rakes through your whole body leaves your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

Yunho’s cock is soaked and hard underneath his shorts—it’s throbbing and pushing against the fabric of his apparel. So when you’re getting off your high, he has his pants off quickly too. His cock is thick and heavy, covered in precum, looking like the perfect thing to fill you up with.

His wet cock rests on your equally wet cunt, and Yunho strokes himself against your drenched folds, making sure his tip brushes against your clit every time. 

“Yunho, please”, you mutter, your pussy fluttering against nothing, aching for Yunho to just fuck you. 

“Not too sore to take my dick right?” Yunho teases, his gaze darting between your desperate eyes and the way cream from your pussy is decorating his big cock. 

“I’m gonna be stretching you in more ways than one, babe. Be a good girl and take it for me, yeah?”, he smiles. 

For some strange reason, you don’t feel the soreness in your inner thighs, or maybe you’re just so horny that it’s not the soreness that’s your main concern now. 

You bite your lip, then your mind completely coming undone when you feel Yunho push his cockhead into your pussy, stretching your hole open as he accommodates his thick cock in you. 

“Fuck. Look at your tight pussy trying to fit all of me in. I should fill you in for size training after our next sessions. Extra stretching sessions shouldn’t be much of a problem, right baby?” 

Maybe you should take up on that offer. 

The thought of Yunho fitting his fat cock to stretch you open just so your tight pussy can mold to his cock size after your gym sessions sounded way too fucking tempting, especially in your current predicament. You’re imagining the way he would coax your pussy to take more inches of him, and the thought of doing it right after your training sessions—being pumped full of endorphins and just Yunho’s fat cock—your pussy is just dripping and taking more of his cock by the second. Way too fucking enticing.

“Mm. That’s it, baby. Fit me in like this, yeah?” Yunho sighs when his cock finally bottoms out in you, your walls hugging him like a glove. 

You gasp at the fullness. His cockhead is pressing against your g-spot but you feel it in your fucking throat, and any small twitches his cock is making in you is a contender to make you cum any second. 

Your fingers grab onto his tensed biceps to give yourself some leverage, and Yunho is kind enough to wait for you to adjust, or maybe because he feels like he’s about to cum any second from the way your pussy is just squeezing him. 

“Jeong Yunho”, you pant, trying to catch your breath. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, I feel so full.”

He chuckles, rubbing slow circles from your inner thighs and clit. “All the more we should train for that.”

Yunho and his fat cock are gonna be the death of you. You didn’t even need leg day to do it for you. 

“God, Yunho, just fuck me already.”

“Gladly.” 

Your head is thrown back the moment his cock pulls out of you and thrusts back into you. You’re not gonna survive this, you swear. 

The moans slipping out of you grow louder and more lewd, and Yunho is gradually losing the ability to hold back when he hears his name in your high-pitched symphony paired with the way your pussy is just creaming all over him. He watches the way his cock pushes a bulge whenever he slides into you and it’s taking him everything to not to just rearrange your guts.

The pressure soon wears off, only pleasure flooding through your veins when Yunho fucks the daylights out of you. And now you’re growing greedy. 

So is Yunho. 

“You’re driving me crazy, baby”, Yunho is growing breathless whenever he feels your cunt sucking him in. “Keep doing that and I’ll guarantee you’re not walking straight tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, Yuyu. Then you can come over to take responsibility, right?”

Yunho groans. God he fucking loves it when you’re like this for him. 

So he responds by grabbing you by your thighs and lifting your hips slightly to make sure his cock fills you up all the way. His eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he listens to your voice climbing up in pitch at every thrust he gives you. 

“So good. Ah fuck. You’re so fucking thick”, you cry through your fucked out delirium. 

Yunho bites his lip, his thrusts growing more desperate and erratic with his cock just twitching for his release. 

He settles your legs down, only to fold them so that your knees are almost pressing against your chest, making sure you fucking see stars while his cock fills you up over and over in that position, hitting your g-spot so fucking easily. You’re choking on your moans at this point, your orgasm just being dangled over your head. 

“Fuck, right there! Gonna cum, Yunho. Oh god, that’s it”, you sob, your orgasm hitting you through shots of dopamine filling up your brain and flooding all over your cunt, pulsing against Yunho’s dick. 

Yunho has his eyes rolled back when you’re squeezing uncontrollably against him, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm, listening to your cries like it’s his favourite sound for the rest of the day. 

“Shit, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this pussy”, he mutters through pants. “So fucking perfect to cum in.”

Yunho squeezes your legs as he stills in you, making sure every drop of his thick cum is filling your pussy to the brim. 

He jerks slightly before pulling out, still holding your legs open for him to watch his cum seep out of your pussy and onto the towel below. You squeal when you feel his long fingers push his cum back into your pussy. Yunho is never telling you, but it’s his silent way of putting his mark on you. 

He soothes your thighs a little more even though he’s still finger fucking his cum back into you while kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs. ignoring your cries of overstimulation, before he closes your legs to lie them down. 

“See, this is a form of active recovery too”, Yunho says matter-of-factly, looking up at you with a pretty deceptive smile with his head on your lap. You narrow your eyes, grabbing him by his scalp. 

“I’m gonna blow your phone up tomorrow if I can’t feel my legs, Jeong Yunho.” 

Yunho continues to smile, his fingers easily removing yours from his head. 

“I guess that’s a yes to the extra training sessions then?” 

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @mylovelymito @softwsan  @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie

[yandere-romanticaa]

To the anon who was asking abt sex! Here’s my two cents based off of experience..

1. Cockwarming is not like,,, pleasurable. Like when I read fics abt it and the reader is all squirmy and whatever it really doesn’t make sense. If the guy isn’t moving then it doesn’t really feel like anything, and it gets a little uncomfortable after a few minutes of no movement. It’s kinda like using a tampon. I definitely think that the pleasure derived from this is more mental than physical. Only the guy really gets anything physical out of it.

This kind applies to vibrators too. Like internal vibrators are not crazy stimulating but it is enough to make you distracted. But to each their own I suppose.

2. Sex in general. Internal stimulation (P in V) is good, and if I had to describe it I would say it feels like a bruise repeatedly. It’s hard to describe. Like it hurts but not in an ‘ow’ way, it feels good. Definitely a feeling that gets the legs shaking after repeated thrusting against that spot.

BUT, I cant finish without stimulation to my clit. It’s definitely different for everybody, but in my case I need clitorial stimulation or else it just feels like I’m on the edge the whole time (which, by the way, is a very unsatisfying feeling).

And thrusting it all in like in one go isn’t possible, remember that your vagina is one giant muscle, and when you stretch a muscle to hard and fast it strains and it doesn’t feel good. Foreplay is very helpful bc it loosens you up first, but even then you can’t force it in at one go. You kinda gotta start with the tip first and use short movements to slowly fit the whole thing in.

AND YES!!! THE STRETCH HURTS!!!! If you aren’t prepared properly or your partner just shoves it in it feels like your skin is being stretched (like a rubber band being stretched so much that it’s about to snap) and it’s a sharp pain and you could tear. SO FOREPLAY MATTERS!!!!

3. Cervix stuff… 😭😭😭 Guys. You can NOT thrust into the cervix. These fics are LYING TO YOU!!! It’s literally like trying to thrust through bone, the cervix is hard and even inserting thin items like a Q tip fucking HURTS. Unless it’s like monster fucking with ovipositors then it’s just straight unrealistic. A díck can NOT push through.

Some women find it painful even when their cervix is just thrusted against. (It doesn’t hurt for me so I don’t mind but majority of all the gals I’ve spoken to DONT like it. One of my friends even threw up during sex one time from the pain.)

4. Mind break. Not a real thing. Sorry. After so many rounds, no matter how high your drive is, the sex just starts to feel uncomfortable. Don’t push yourself past that point, listen to your body and know your limits. Because once it feels uncomfortable it kinda starts to hurt. This applies for the guys too. It just stops feeling good after a while and you leave that sort of lust-haze and become very lucid (post-nut clarity LMAOOO), which also makes you feel the discomfort even more.

So yeah, mind break via sex just isn’t a thing because your body literally has a limit. Overstimulation is real but your body has limits for that too. Like after so many orgasms I can’t touch my clit or it feels like a sharp pain. (Again, everyone is different but that’s just me)

And yeah. That’s all I can rlly think of.

This was an interesting read!!!!! I think that smut may or may not have poisoned my brain a little bit so this felt like a breath of fresh air. Of course, one should never take smut too seriously as it is primarily for entertainment, but it really does feel like things can mess you up if you're an inexperienced pookie such as myself!

Truth be told, sex scares me. Like, a lot.

I am in my early 20's and there is this societal expectation that I need a boyfriend. I also live in a fairly conservative country which honestly doesn't help me at all. And it's low key expected from couples to just go at a few months into the relationship, sometimes even after a few weeks depending on the person. That's how most of my friends/acquaintances did it anyway.

Just the thought of a man seeing me so naked and vulnerable like that, it brings tears to my eyes. It legit scares me so much. Buddy, if you see me in my birthday suit you are NOT going anywhere LMAO, you'll have to marry me, I'm sorry -

I've been called an uptight and boring prude for having this kind of mentality and I get it. But I can't help it, I just can't. I don't think I'll ever be able to have that kind of physical connection with anyone unless I know them inside and out 😓 I'm too scared and too insecure for my own good... I also have a few stretch marks on my stomach, which I really hate, I really do. I don't think I could handle the humiliation of another person ever seeing them.

[forgot-how-catflap-works]

10 Lessons from a transfemme gym rat

I’m the only trans person at my local gym. I sometimes worry that I stick out like, well, the only trans person in a room full of cisfolk. I’m taller than most of the men and broader than all the women; my face often darkened by stubble because I have electrolysis later that week and can't shave; and I have to wear loose fitting shorts rather than tight leggings so that I don't accidently cock slap someone when I’m on the elliptical.

I don’t see any trans fitness content on my feeds either, presumably because the algorithm is as confused about my gender as my parents are. It sort of understands that I am a woman but occasionally forgets, and is utterly dumfounded by the idea that trans people might doing something other than porn and JK Rowling discourse.

Since transition, I can now imagine a future where before there was only a grey expanse. I realised if I wanted to live that future, I needed to start taking better care of myself. So with Lady Ballers still fresh in the cultural consciousness, I stepped foot into a space that felt not only unwelcome, but actively hostile to my presence. Nearly six months on, here’s an incomplete list of what I've learned so far.

1. None actually gives a shit 

What a fucking relief that was! I expected to be immediately clocked and then chased out the building by pitchfork wielding gigachads. But here’s the thing — a little seceret I try to remember while at the gym — literally no one cares or has any interest in me. People do not talk at the gym, they do not make eye contact, they do not smile. They lift weights in the corner or sweat on the treadmills. My presence as a trans person does not factor into their gains, or distract them from scrolling on their phone between sets. Even in my tiny ass local gym, I’m basically invisible. 

2. Take up space

I know it feels hostile out there for trans people at the moment, but for the time being our right to take up space is enshrined by UK law. Cis people take up space all the time. It would never occur to them that they might be unwelcome somewhere, and even if it did that wouldn’t stop them. If you've ever been to a Pride, you know exactly what I mean.

We have the same right to access these facilities as any of those cis dudes full-stacking the chest press. Anti-trans campaigners are trying to exclude us from public life; don't do the work for them by refusing to participate. They will have to physically remove me if they want that, but I’ll be so jacked they won’t be able to. Which brings me to my next point… 

3. Strength is power

If you’re transfeminine, physical strength is power. It is protection. Unless they hit the gym too, most people aren’t as strong as they think they are. Estrogen will prevent you from getting too girthy, but you’ll be surprised how quick you can build muscle with a regular routine. I’m stronger now than I’ve ever been, and I feel confident I could defend myself if necessary just by having that extra raw power on my side. 

I get that plenty of transfemmes want to lean away from physical strength for a number of valid, dysphoria-related reasons. But don’t let it be because society tells you women have to be weak, or that you’re not a real woman because you're strong. That’s some misogynist bullshit. You can be whatever you want. To that end… 

4. Fuck gender

Fuck it right into the bin. The world of physical fitness is incredibly gendered. It relentlessly reinforces the idea that men are supposed to be big and strong, and women are supposed to be thin with a juicy butt. Fuck that. I’m a non-binary transfemme. I want a juicy butt and to be jacked as hell. I want to be able to bodyslam a grown man and look good while doing it. Now more than three years into transition, I’ve left behind certain aspirations of unachievable femininity, but I’ve also never been hotter. I feel like myself in whole new ways. Confident, powerful, beautiful. I am the woman I always too afraid to be, and it fucking rules. 

5. My relationship to my body has changed

I spent the last 33 years disconnected from the sack of meat that contains my unwilling consciousness. Even as transition progressed, I did not want to be a part of my body. But as I exercise, feel my muscles working and my heart pumping, I am connected to it. I am a part of it. There is something beautiful about that. All my life I avoided exercise because I couldn’t stand my physical form. But now I recognise that my body is my home, and I should care for it like I care for the rest of my world. 

6. Exercise is actually good for you 

Every smug prick that tells you that exercise is good for your mental health and general well being was, unfortunately, correct. I want more than nothing else to rot in my own filth, smoking weed and eating doritos until I die. But that leaves me feeling like literal shit, and the improvement I’ve noticed in mood, energy levels, sleep quality and general daily vibe cannot be ignored. I resent this truth, yet here we are. 

Exercise has not “fixed” me or suddenly cured my lifelong depression. I’ve been more depressed in the last few months than I have since I started transition, but exercise was actually the one thing that kept me going. I almost had no choice on whether I went to the gym. It happened at times against my will, but it always improved my mood, even if I did just go right back to a RuneScape-induced fugue afterwards. 

7. Setting the vibe

For whatever reason, gyms love to play Radio 1. I can only assume this is because whoever is in charge of the music was hired by Satan to ruin my day with inane chat and the musical equivalent of liquid diarrhoea. Before you call me a boomer, I was born hating all things popular and despite my best efforts I really can’t find a way to feel any differently about it. 

So if you’re like me, which is to say very cool and refined, you need headphones to blast some raw punk for those weight sessions. I’m talking about Soft Play, Lambrini Girls, Be Your Own Pet, Amyl and the Sniffers. If you’re on the treadmill or elliptical you want an audiobook; something compelling, uncomplicated, and full of action. No mournful dyke lit. I’m sorry fans of Julia Armfield, but Our Wives Under the Sea isn’t going to cut it when you’re only 15 minutes into cardio and already want to die. For my money though, the best cardio option is to hop on a bike, get your Switch out and play Legend of Zelda. “Oh, but what if someone judges me for playing my Switch at the gym?” That person can eat shit. Also, they won't because as highlighted earlier, no one cares! 

8. Leisure centres are your friends

Leisure centres, unlike private gyms, are funded with your taxes. They are the public libraries of getting jacked. Make use of those spaces. They are usually cheaper than the alternative and yes, they might be a bit grottier but they’re still pretty good. Don’t be afraid of the staff, they are there to help you.

Make sure to get an induction too. It should be free and will help familiarise you with the space and how the machines work. Do not wing it unless you wanna show up, cause a scene by hurting yourself and then get taken out on a stretcher. Most leisure centres will also offer to put together a workout plan, and some of the fancier ones will give you a full fitness MOT where you can learn about your bone density and shit. Not my gym, because it’s small and crap. But you probably have better facilities on your doorstep than I do within 20 miles. 

9. The changing room question

You have the legal right to use the changing rooms that align with gender identity. Labour even recently dropped plans to rewrite the equality act, which would have removed that right.  So for now, it's yours — use it. That said, if you’re really nervous about the changing rooms, contact the gym beforehand and ask what their facilities are like. Do they have changing booths? Or gender neutral spaces? 

I rarely if ever change at the gym. I either get ready at home, or even change in my car sometimes like the lil gremlin I am. If that’s not an option, put on your gym clothes under your outfit for the day, and wear something simple like a jumpsuit so you can get changed with minmal fuss. If you absolutely need to change at the gym and aren’t comfortable or don’t feel safe using the changing rooms, use a disabled toilet. That might be controversial, but your safety and comfort matters. If people are going to give you shit, or if you don’t have access to the facilities you need to feel safe, claim space where you can. As long as you are respectful of others who need that space too. 

10. Don’t get in your own way

This is where I will do the most projecting, but as someone who is both trans and autistic, I really thought going to the gym would be too fraught an experience for me to handle. I worried that I was going to get clocked, or ridiculed or harassed or merely perceived against my will. 

But let me remind you: No one else cares. You are allowed to be there. You are entitled to these spaces. If someone gives you shit, whether that staff or users, report them to management. File a formal complaint. Make it clear what actions they take to make it right. Advocate for yourself. If that’s too overwhelming, ask a friend to help. Hell, drop me a line and I’ll put those bitches in their place for you. 

Yes, it’s fucking exhausting having to fight for every inch of space, every moment of safety, but fuck the rest of the world. If they can’t handle our presence, that’s their problem. Soon you’ll be jacked as hell and able to throw them down a well if they give you any trouble. 

[disabled-queer-culture-is]

Hello there! Not a culture ask, just needed some advice on something.

So I've had catatonia for a couple years now. And over time, the long term effects of catatonic episodes have greatly impacted my muscles and joints, causing lots of weakness, muscle spasms, and numbness, especially in my legs and arms, and I've recently been saving up some money to get a mobility aid to help me walk.

I was also born with leg length discrepancy and clubfoot, which also affects my ability to walk.

But recently I received a comment from someone telling me that I'm not "disabled enough" and idk it just... it really got to me. It made me feel like I don't belong in disabled spaces. I usually try to brush off comments like that, but given that it came from someone very close to me, it hit hard.

So idk, I guess what I'm trying to say is, do you have any advice for someone like me who's been told they're not "disabled enough" and how to deal with comments like that? I would really appreciate it.

Ah, that’s one I’m still working on, myself. (You know how it gets with imposter syndrome.) Here’s some things I try to keep in mind when faced with those comments!

Those people don’t care about you. They don’t care what evidence you show them, they don’t care whether or not you’re physically disabled or what struggles you might have. They just want to argue and put you down. Call them out for being a jerk and an idiot (if you have the courage to/it won’t put you in danger) and end the conversation. They don’t care about you, so do your best not to care about them.

They don’t know you! Even if they’re a family member you’ve lived with your whole life, they are not you, and they cannot and will not ever fully understand what you’re going through. They don’t know your emotions or the way you struggle and grieve your health behind closed doors. If they don’t know your situation and aren’t trying to understand, how can you trust them to make an accurate judgement about your health?

You don’t owe them your medical history. They just want to fight, don’t play their game. The ONLY people you owe your medical history to are the healthcare professionals you are going to for help. Don’t waste your time and energy trying to give them enough evidence to prove that you are disabled enough. (If it’s a struggle you’re running into with getting necessary accommodations/help, get a trusted ally in your corner and have them fight with you! Threaten to call whatever sort of organization your country has for disability rights/advocacy! Nothing will turn around that attitude like threatening to get the law involved.)

You ARE disabled enough. There’s no mountain you have to climb to count yourself as disabled enough. If you have any sort of long term condition, officially diagnosed or not, that impacts your ability to lead an independent life without any sort of aid, you are disabled.

I’m really sorry to hear that it was someone close to you who said such an awful thing. My recommendation would be to get someone who has proven themselves to be trustworthy with respecting you and your disability, and set a time to bring them along to have a talk with the person who told you that. Tell that person that what they said hurt you, that it was an unreasonable and insulting thing to say to anyone, especially someone they claim to care about. Tell them that they can either sort that attitude out, or you can cut them from your life. (It’s okay to leave the room/turn off your phone after that! They’ll probably want to start a fight. Don’t let them, and keep yourself safe.)

I know it’s hard to cut out someone who you care about. But if they can’t put in the basic effort to not call you a liar about something that affects every single second of your life, or at least apologize after they hurt you, you deserve better than them. You are disabled enough. You deserve people who care about you and want to help you live your life to the fullest. You deserve a community of people who understand your struggles, even if only a little bit. My DMs are open if there’s anything I can do to support you!

[bluecookies02]

Can I please request for Hawks, Dabi and Aizawa walking in on their S/O using a vibrator on themselves? (Btw they don’t know that they have it also their s/o aren’t moaning their name just heavy breathing) please thank you! Can be headcannons or Drabbles. Thank you!!💕

YESSSSSS, ALL OF MY HUSBANDS, ABSOLUTELY

(NSFW // minors do not interact)

TAKAMI KEIGO/HAWKS

He rarely comes home early, on contrary he's always held up by the commission well over his working hours, causing him to be late, the apology texts being a constant in your relationship.

And you understand, you really do, you learned to get busy with your own things throughout the day. Especially when the fact that you're alone in your home settles down in your brain.

You find joy in spoiling yourself, and while you do sometimes miss the touch of your lover, the small buzzing against your clit makes it almost impossible to keep on dwelling over that, especially when you press the toy a bit harder, head thrown back on the soft pillow. The lights are dimmed, your discarded clothes scattered over the bed, the soaked panties laying at your feet. It all adds to the appeal for the golden eyes that peek through the door, heavy, tired wings jumping back to life.

Breathing out heavily, you fiddle with the speeds on your vibe, greedily upping it until it feels overwhelming, too ruthless on your sensitive cunt. The one under it is too low, too faint for how worked up you are. You decide to torture yourself for a while, refusing to move it away from you, despite the small zap-like sensation that surges all the way through your stomach. Your fingers briefly dig and scrape over your thigh before you manage to still your hips, letting the vibe do its work. Your eyes are out of focus, imagination running wild as you drunkenly stare at your ceiling.

You dip the toy between your folds, slicking it up, the reduced friction making it almost perfect, toes curling in a warning. You feel it in your gut, hips bucking off the bed, the warm knot in your tummy signaling that if you don't stop soon you're gonna reach the point of no return, definitely ruining the oh so precious buildup you've got going on.

You peel your own hand away, determined to make it last a little while longer, your legs closing around nothing, the toy dropped on the mattress.

Your gasp is followed by a deeper groan, making your eyes snap to the door. You're relieved to find your boyfriend hunched over the door frame, cheeks red as his knees threaten to give out. His hand is wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, his pants barely pulled down. So close. He was so terribly close.

His sharp teeth bruised his own lips from biting down too hard, a hand muffling his noises just in case (so much for that). You slowly click the off button, sitting up, wanting to make your way to your boyfriend. Your heart beats all the way to your ears, the rollercoaster of emotions doing a number on your poor heart.

"No, no, you can keep going" he says quietly, motioning you back to the bed as he takes tentative steps to a chair, turning it to face you.

You have to swallow around the lump in your dry throat, nodding as you spread your legs open again, adjusting so that he can have a better view. The slow buzz of your toy sends shivers down his spine, the wet sound of your pussy even louder now that he's this close to you.

that's how you manage to edge your boyfriend until he has literal tears rolling down his cheeks

TOUYA TODOROKI/DABI

cw:dabi is a perv

Dabi is a little creep. He constantly sneaks into your apartment...he peeks through every crack he can just to get a glimpse of you. It doesn't matter that you're dating, it adds a certain thrill to his day, especially when you jump up, startled and scared when he just....*shows up*

So far he caught you pleasuring yourself a handful of times, most of which were in the privacy of your bathroom. He loves to watch, loves to see exactly how you like it. He gets off on the shy moans you let out, quiet even when you're all alone in your home, the lewd sounds that rush past your lips muffled with the back of your hand.

He often strokes his cock, mumbling to himself, praising you even though you're too busy to hear him. He does little to nothing to keep it down, relishing in how oblivious you are to the slick sound of his length fucking into his fist. He takes breaks whenever you do, he matches his pace to yours fully, the grin never leaving his face.

It's not until he caught you on your couch of all places, legs bent to your knees, a rabbit vibrator stuffed inside your pussy, the little ears of it bumping against your clit ever so slightly. He's in a daze...he never guessed that his precious girl owned anything of the sort.

If you thought your sex life was great before, wait until he starts looking into all kinds of toys , using your card to buy them.

AIZAWA SHOUTA/ERESERHEAD

For him to not know that you own a sex toy, the relationship would have to be pretty new, I'm talking like "just got together, fucked a handful of times" type of new.

He gets internally excited, hoping that it'll be a nice start of a conversation later. For now, he'll carefully knock, offering his help. He'll take good care of you alright.

He'll finger you while he teases you with the vibe, pressing down and then raising it up from your clit ever so often. He'll play with the settings until he finds the one that tortures you the most, thoroughly getting you nice and fucked out before he even thinks about putting his cock anywhere near your pussy.

If Aizawa is something, that's passionate. He's lazy, but not when it comes to making his partners feel good. It's a way for him to unwind from work and finally do something that doesn't give him a headache.

He loves the way you look all soaked up, your folds slippery, glistening from his spit and many generous orgasms he gave you, making his fingers slide with ease. He eats pussy for his own pleasure, turning off the vibe and placing it on the bed, mushing his face between your legs. He nuzzles and munches on the fat of your thighs, leaving faint love bites all over your skin.

Then you can feel the tickle of his stubble as he starts suckling on your pussy, humming and mouthing at your cunt. He talks with your puss in his mouth, slurred words of praise about the way you taste and smell. He has his spit dribbling down his chin, arms secured on top of you to keep you in place.

He also loves eating ass, pls let this man eat your ass, Aizawa is an ass man, give him a taste of your voluptuous a- khm

He'll go on until his tongue goes numb. Like numb to the point where he has to slowly put it back in his mouth because his muscles are in p a i n

He'll turn the vibe back on while he fucks you, begging for you to not cum even tho he has it on the highest setting. It makes your walls flutter just right and he's so close. Hold out for him, he deserves it, he worked for it.

"Just a little bit more, I got you, please...I'm sorry...I know...you're doing so good, I know you can do it, I'm right behind you " He cums so hard he almost tumbles over, your cunt squeezing him dry, your toes curl and legs wiggle out of his grip to run away from the intensity of the toy that he still has hovered over your clit.

not proofread, it's 1 am and we die like men.

I'll ban the words "vibe" and "toy" from my vocabulary for a month after this. I still enjoyed it tho. Everything has a cost.

MY LINKS-> Ko-Fi | Patreon

[readerstories]

Magic Fingers - Aaron Hotchner x male!reader

I got so many other ideas for fics with Aaron and male reader, this was just an excuse to write some “shorter” smut while I work on some longer fics. (AO3)

Warnings: smut, clothed sex

Wordcount: 2978

Summary: Working hard on a case you offer to give Hotch a massage, because the man is as stiff and tense as a block of wood. (And maybe you want to get your hands on him, but that’s neither here nor there).

The case had been hard, challenging, brutal, and difficult, which had caused the whole team to work on overdrive for the last few days with very little sleep. Which was why Hotch had ordered everyone back to the hotel to get some sleep, as none of you were going to get anywhere being as sleep deprived as you were.

He had tried to stay behind himself, but you had more or less dragged him back to a car while reminding him that even he was human and needed rest. Back at the hotel, in your shared room (because of course with your luck there wasn’t any single rooms left in the hotel for anyone in the team), you stretch before sitting down on your own bed, Hotch walking over to his.

You could see how tense he was, how much he needed to relax. Which was easier said then done when Hotch took as much responsibility as he did, always making sure everything possible was done to catch the unsub and save anyone who might get in harms way. Which was an admirable trait of his, but you could tell by his posture how stiff he had gotten over the last few days. The way he held himself spoke volumes to you, even though you knew he tried to shield it from the world and keep it to himself.

“Hotch?” He looks away from his jacket, the only item of his suit he has manged to force himself out of so far, while your jacket, shoes, and tie was long gone. You pat the edge of the bed next to where you are sitting, Hotch looks skeptical.

“Come on, you need to relax.”

“What does me sitting next to you have anything to do with that?”

“Let me give you a massage.” He raises a brow and you sigh, shifting so you’re kneeling on the bed instead.

“You’ve seen my resume, you know you I thought about going into massage therapy at one point.” Still, Hotch doesn’t move, so you know you have to do more to convince him.

“Remember when Reid had slept on his neck all wrong that one time after staying up way too late and I helped? Or when Morgan messed up his shoulder when going after an unsub and couldn’t sleep for days, and after a massage he finally could? It was the closest I’ve ever seen the man to weeping. Or when JJ was pregnant and hurting, but after letting me give her a massage she joked that if she didn’t love Will, and I wasn’t gay, she would have married me? Hotch, at this point I’ve given a massage to everyone on the team but you, so, get.”

You make a grabby motion with your hands. Hotch sigh, seeming to finally get how serious and stubborn you were being in that moment. He takes off his tie and shoes on the way over to the bed, but doesn’t do anything else, which makes everything a bit harder, but hey, you’ll take anything you’ll get. As Hotch sits down you’re greeted by the lovely opportunity to stare at his back without him noticing or caring too much, which would have been great, if you couldn’t tell how tense he was without even needing a single touch.

When you touch his shoulders he almost jumps, but he forces himself to calm down. Which doesn’t do much, because the instant your hands are on him you can tell it’s going to take a while and some effort to get him relax.

You slowly, ever so slowly start to move you hand, starting out gently at first to get a feeling for him. And ho boy, those are some serious knots if you’ve ever felt some. Your thumb barely brushes over one with some pressure and Hotch winces. You take a breath in trough your teeth, Hotch truly can’t be feeling any sort of pleasant right now, or really, ever you suppose.

“Hotch, if I really didn’t know any better, I would say your shoulders are made of wood with how stiff they are and how many knots I can feel.” Hotch grunts and starts to move like he’s about to stand up, but you drag him back down so he’s fully sitting again with your hands on his shoulders.

“Oh no, none of that, you’re not moving off this bed until all of them are gone and you can you know, actually be a little relaxed for once in your adult life.” Hotch scoffs, but doesn’t try to move again, which you count as a victory.

For the next, you don’t even know how long, your hands wander, squeeze, and press all over Hotch’s shoulders, loosing muscles and knots as good as you can while kneeling behind Hotch. Hotch is mostly quiet, only letting out sighs and the occasional grunt when an especially hard spot is made pliant.

When you’ve done as much as you can in this position you withdraw your hands, noting how Hotch is slumping slightly more forward now than he was when you started.

“Up the bed please, I can’t reach more like this.” Hotch turns so he can look at you over his shoulder.

“You’ve massaged my shoulders, what mor-”

“If your shoulders are any indication, you need a full body massage, so up on the bed please, front down.” You stare down Hotch, not breaking eye contact for one second. You’ve decided that he needs that massage, even if you have to tackle him to the bed to give it to him. He seems to have sensed this as he sighs, and above all miracles, does as you asked of him. He’s on his front, arms tucked under his head to use as a pillow, you now kneeling next to one hip.

Pleased with yourself, you get to work. You start where you left off from before, somewhere in the middle of his back. The knots there aren’t as bad as his shoulders, you suppose Hotch takes ‘bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders’ literally sometimes, but still you do your best to let your hands work over them until they are smoothed out and the muscles beneath your palms relax.

Over time your hands move downwards, and at some point right above the waist of his pants and his belt, your hands on either hip, they brush a particular point or points which make Hotch draw in a breath. Your hands pause before you speak.

“Sorry, you ticklish there?”

“A little.” Hotch reluctantly admits, mostly speaking at the wall he has been staring at for the last few minutes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You say as you file that little nugget of info away in a part of your brain you’ve dedicated to Hotch. You make sure to avoid that spot when your hands starts up again, instead moving to his lower back. There you find a knot truly worth your skilled hands, taking several minutes before you can move your hands from that spot. You realize you’ve accomplished your goal there when Hotch lets out a loud groan as you fell his muscles loosen beneath your hands, which you gather was an involuntary sound by the slight redness on his cheeks.

“See, I told you I was good.” Hotch doesn’t responds verbally, but nods, eyes closed now. You don’t say anything else, instead moving to his legs. You start at one ankle, slowly, slowly moving your way upwards, careful not to go to high for both of your comfort. You can tell when that is by a small twitch on Hotch’s leg, just above where you can feel the start of his boxers through his pants, and then you move down. You do however at on point press on a muscle on the backside of his knee that causes the leg to move on its own, which causes you both to laugh.

When both legs are done, you take your hands off Hotch and lean back, noting how his eyes are closed, almost like he’s sleeping.

“Turn around.” This causes Hotch to abruptly open his eyes and look at you for the first time since he laid down.

“What?”

“I haven’t done your front yet, and I’m not about to let you go with a half finished massage.”

“I-I’d rather not.” Looking over Hotch you quickly realize, with your profiling work and previous experience, why he’s not moving yet.

“If it’s an erection that’s nothing new.”

“Wha-”

“Your body is just reacting to stimuli, happens a lot with men, nothing I haven’t seen before. But if you really want to stop, we can of course do that.” You can see Hotch’s mind at war with himself. You say nothing, pretending that there’s a very interesting spot on the wall above the headboard.

It’s the movement of the mattress that alerts you to the fact that Hotch is moving, as the man himself says nothing. When you look at him, he has his arms over his face, jaw and mouth barely visible. What is very visible, is the erction pushing against the front of his pants, and though you would have liked to look, you only give it a glance. Hotch jumps when you touch his ankle again, but you don’t start just yet.

“Relax, like I said, nothing I haven’t seen before. Happens a lot actually, my hands are just that good you know, like a god or something.” Hotch huffs out a laugh, a smile briefly on his lips. You smile back at him even though he can’t see you, and then concentrate back on the task at hand.

Like before, you start at his ankles, working your way up. Hotch gets less tense almost by the second, breathing deepening as your hands work their magic once more. You don’t go very high on his thighs, actually now you’re lower than before, not wanting to make Hotch uncomfortable in any way.

Next is his hips, you start at the one closest to you and work your way up towards his shoulder instead of across his stomach. He still has his arms over his face, so you poke him in the bicep to get his attention.

“Arm please.” Hotch’s sigh is deep, but he moves his arm so you can take it. You’re gentle, well, as gentle as you can be while kneading out knots from tired muscles. His bicep is firm under your fingers, needing a lot less attention than his shoulders luckily.

When you’re done with that arm, you let it go, tapping on his other so he can move that of his face and switch it for the one you finished with. The angle of it is a bit awkward, and you probably should move for easier access, but honestly you can’t be bothered as you’re very close to being finished. However, your knee protests, telling your body that hey, moving is good as not to let limbs fall asleep.

But instead of doing the logical and probably better thing of getting of the bed and walking around, your tired brain decides to just move one leg over Hotch waist, intending to just move the other one over and after. Hotch draws in a slight breath at the motion and then something in your leg fails you, causing you to drop down on Hotch, putting most of your weight on top of Hotch’s crotch. Hotch moans out loud as his hands flies to your lower thighs and you go stock still.

“Fuck shit, sorry Hotch-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it-” Hotch draws in a deep breath and licks his lips as you worriedly watch his face. You’re mortified, you just dropped yourself on Hotch’s erection, holy fuck, shit.

It takes a few seconds to realize that you’re not trying to move of Hotch’s lap.

But Hotch isn’t trying to move you off either.

If anything, he’s keeping you there, a deathgrip on your lower thighs.

You take a few terrifying seconds to take stock of the situation before experimentally rolling your hips against Hotch. A flex of his fingers, but he does or says nothing as he stares at the ceiling. You on the other hand, is watching his face for any hint of what he’s thinking.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop, and we’ll forget about it ever happening.”

“Ah, um, fuck, shit.”

Silence, one, two, three beats.

“Fuck, move.” You start to get off his, heart already dropping to your guts, but instead Hotch drags you down and rolls his hips against you. This time it’s you who gasps, as your own dick twitches in your pants with the feeling of Hotch grinding against you. Hotch throws his head back, eyes screwed shut.

You’re quick to find your balance and leverage by placing your hands on Hotch’s chest, grinding down, moving as best as you can with Hotch’s own movements. Hotch is letting out a few low moans, which you match with your own as you move and watch the adam’s apple on Hotch’s throat move as he swallows. You want to lean down and kiss his neck, but fuck, you don’t know if you even can kiss him, if he will let you.

Hotch answers that question for you, as just seconds later his eyes open and he moves so he can look at you, catching you staring at him.

“Ah fuck.” Before you can even ask, he’s sitting up. You yelp as the movement causes you to straddle his thighs instead, and then in seconds there’s a hand on the nape of your neck, and even fewer seconds later you’re kissing Hotch.

Fuck.

His lips are firm, but pressing against you with a desperation you’re sure to match. His hands on your hips, holding you hard. Your hands go into his hair, tugging him even closer of that is even possible at this point, which causes him to moan low into your mouth which holy shit, that is, fuck, you can’t even think anymore you think.

The world shifts around you then, and you find yourself on your back, Hotch’s erection pressed against your own. It feels so good, so big and firm, and you want to feel more of him, but you can’t muster the brainpower to do anything about it, so you just tug at his hair and grind against him. Hotch seems of the same mind, as he doesn’t move to do much more either, just moving his hips against yours while kissing you within an inch of your life.

Which should be ridiculous, because you’re both grown men almost fully dressed still, but fuck, that makes it even hotter you think. Or, you try to think, as your mind is mostly chants of ‘more, good, fuck, shit, hot’ over and over again, Hotch’s name thrown in the mix for good measure.

Hotch moves away from your lips, but doesn’t move far, instead peppering kissed down your neck on the little skin he can reach. You moan and gasp, moving one hand from his hair to his back, trying to press him even more against you.

“Fuck, shit, I’m close, so close!” You frantically confess towards the ceiling.

“Me too, me too.” Hotch breathes against your neck, one hand moving so he can unbutton your shirt and get his lips on your collarbone. He starts to suck and bite at a spot there, and that is what does you in. You come just seconds after your shirt is open for him, moaning loudly.

“Fuck!” You hear Hotch mutter against your skin, and then a mutter of your name as he comes, in a low baritone that you think you will remember for the rest of your life.

You lay there panting for several seconds, or perhaps minutes, you’re not sure, just a mess of limbs, most of Hotch’s weight on top of you.

It’s hot, in more ways than one, which is what forces you to push Hotch off you, to get some air. He goes willingly, flopping down on his back next to you on the bed. A few panting breaths before you both turn to look at the other, smiles, then laughter as the situation sinks in. You’re surprisingly the first to gain somewhat of a control over yourself, grinning as you speak.

“We just came in our pants, what are we, teenagers?” Hotch pushes his weight up on his elbows, wincing as apparently something pulls somewhere.

“I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t feel like one.” Hotch smiles as you, which you return, letting your eyes wander all over him now that you can. His hair is standing in a million different directions, there’s a blush to his cheeks, his clothes are rumpled, a wet spot is forming on the front of his pants, and he looks as fucked and blissed out as you, and most certainly he, feels. You hum, your attention going back to his face.

“We should get cleaned up.” You state, which Hotch nods in response.

“I think you mean you should get us cleaned up. My legs feels like jello right about now.” You raise a brow and he grins.

“I think your massage turned off something in my legs.” You huff, incredulous, but sit up anyway.

“I’m good, but not that good.”

“Well, the sex certainly helped.” You laugh and lean down to give him a kiss, which is mostly smiling lips pressed against each other.

“Flatterer.”

“Hey, what can I say, you got magic fingers.” You smack his chest and laugh as you get up to go the bathroom, your own legs a little shaky, which Hotch doesn’t comment on, but you know he liked by the way he grins at you when you get back to the bed.

[keilemlucent]

mean to me

( r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~3.5k

daddy’s a bit mean

warnings: daddy kink, light bdsm in terms of dynamics, use of a safeword, spanking, light degradation, choking, a smidge of age play, subspace, aftercare 

...

oh, more daddy kink brain rot? nice. have a little snack, loves 💕enjoy!!

...

Keigo owned you, passively and completely. 

His hands settled on your hips far too easily, like they were made to lay along the curves of flesh. There might as well have been imprints of his slender fingers with the way they squeezed and held you as often as they did. You weren’t made in your shape for him, but rather he worked you into whatever form he wished. 

You loved every moment of it, love him.

Sat up in his lap with Keigo was upright as well, his wings remained tense and flattened against the headboard. They twitched every so often as your cunt fluttered around his cock, but his resolve remained firm and he remained largely still. 

“K-Keigo, please—“ Your voice wobbled as your fingernails dug into his shoulder.

He quieted you with a slap to your thigh.

“You can’t expect me to give in if you don’t even speak to me proper, right, little bird?” Keigo was obviously being harsh, this was a ‘punishment’ after all. Though, in many ways, it was more of a test of will for the both of you.

Keigo showed his own exertion and restraint on every facet of him. 

His muscles were bunched, poised and more than ready to pound you into oblivion (If only you’d been good that evening, but you hadn’t, hence why you were in the situation that you were).

His expression was desperate, but still so fucking smug. The quirk in his swear-coated brow spoke volumes about how smitten he was to keep you wanting and warm around his cock.

“You’re mean,” You tried to spit, but it left you as more of a whine. 

“Am I?” Keigo raised an eyebrow, tapping your cheek with a single finger, “I think you’ve earned this treatment.”

You definitely did, but you wouldn’t admit that to him.

Your thoughts had wandered all throughout the day to him, and it was only natural that you sent him at least a dozen very whorish photos of yourself in the new, big mirror Keigo had purchased for the two of you.

(Specifically for ‘fucking’ reason, but once again, besides the point.)

You sort of did deserve to be teased. The pictures were meant to work him up, but you hardly expected the treatment you were receiving. 

There was a wordless, nagging ledge in the back of your skull that kept you from finding a more comfortable, softened headspace, leading to any number of slipups.

Namely, referring to Keigo by his name and not the title he loved to brandish. 

“I’m sorry—“You started to say before Keigo moved his slender finger to your lips, slipping the digit into your mouth and pressing down on the flat of your tongue.

He went far enough back to gag you, tears welling at the corners of your eyes.

“‘I’m sorry’,” He mimicked, rolling his eyes before giving your cheek a few forceful pats. “Not gonna cut it. Apologies need to be genuine.”

He rubbed just below your eyes, smearing away any wetness and giving you a sinful grin, “You can’t just be a crybaby and expect me to give in. That’s not how this works.”

Sometimes, it did, notably. Keigo would crack on plenty of days if you got weepy, the reason didn’t matter too much. He only liked seeing you hurt if he had full control of the situation and could drag you back easily.

Your tears only egging on his insults. You tried to ignore the burning in your nose, sucking down any potential cries welling up in your throat.

You must’ve looked pitiful.

And Keigo must’ve loved it.

He was clearly in a particularly nasty mood, a bit more vindictive than a normal night.  Less softened and crueler.

A normal punishment would’ve been pulling you over his knee for a tender lesson that involved turning your ass hot and red. Maybe a bit of writing lines, a dash of extra chores (in that sinfully short and ruffled apron Keigo purchased for you) while he supervised and directed you as needed.

He’d never simply sat you on his cock and refused to move or let you move.

It felt a bit odd in your gut. 

If your mind had fallen deeper, you would’ve enjoyed this more. If your psyche had been floating as you both liked, his cruel words would’ve felt so fucking good, but at this point, you felt nothing but burning shame as you tried to hold yourself together beneath his words. 

Keigo noticed to some degree. He was so tuned to you and your body and expression, he could write a damn novel on the way each angle of your lips and crinkle of your eyes meant a different complex emotion.

And you had no doubt he could see you struggling with this punishment more than normal. 

You shifted your knees, trying to ease the ache of your burning thighs. It earned you a hard slap to your ass, one with enough force that Keigo had to brace your waist to keep you upright. 

“Behave,“ He warned, pulling his fingers from your lips to smear spit on your inner thighs, close enough to your pussy to make your breath hitch. 

You should’ve known not to try and defend yourself, “I wasn’t gonna—” 

“Nope, stop whining,” Keigo gave your thighs a series of sharp pinches and twists. “None of that, you aren’t getting shit.”

Keigo was being mean. 

So mean, it made your chest hurt.

Maybe you were slipping deeper, maybe not to the right place, as your head fell forward to his shoulder, a little weak attempt at hiding your budding, fatter tears. 

“P-please be nice,” Your whispered, hardly audible. “Please.”

Keigo clicked his tongue, slapping your already reddened ass, “Do you think you deserve me being ‘nice’?”

“I—“

You didn’t get a chance to answer as Keigo delivered a quick succession of spanks, all of which had you tensing around his cock and clutching at him and the headboard. Little cries and wails slipped from your slip-slicked lips, all falling on what you assumed were unhearing ears.

“You don’t deserve anything but this, little bird,” Keigo hummed. He punctuated his words with another stroke. “You just love being a little cocktease, isn’t this what you wanted? Sitting on my dick and having your fill?”

No, this wasn’t. You thought the handful of pictures you sent him, draped in one of his own shirts, would get you ponded into the mattress, not held on his cock without a hint of agency or kindness. 

Tears leaked from your eyes, even as you tried to wipe them away as fast as you could manage. 

His hand reared back, poised for another spank—

And you hurriedly gave him two firm and clear taps to his shoulder, “S-sunset, sunset.”

He froze mid-motion. 

“D-daddy, I’m s-sorry,“ You clung to his shoulder and rocked yourself. “It doesn’t f-feel good.”

You felt him take a few measured breaths, hand returning to your hips to press into any knots he could find. The deep inhales were surely meant to calm him from his own high. 

His entire mood shifted nearly instantly. Keigo jolted to rub at your lower back, up and down your spine. 

“No need to be sorry, dove,” He whispered, pressing a few kisses to the side of your head. “I’ve got you. Do you want to lay down?”

You shook your head, laying your hands over his, pressing them into your hips more firmly.

Keigo sweetened, even more, expression creasing with concern, “Can you tell me what doesn’t feel good?” 

“U-um,” You swallowed, withdrawing from the safety of his neck to meet his gaze. His pretty ambers were sharp, watchful, and immediately tender as they met your own. You licked your lips nervously, trying to find proper words, “Doesn’t feel... normal.”

“Does something hurt?” Keigo inquired, tucking some sweat-matted hair behind your ears. He dropped a few kisses around your face, stilling your both as was needed. 

You shook your head. 

“Not the right headspace?” Keigo asked, catching on quickly and speaking softly. 

You nodded, pressing your nose to his cheek, “Uh-huh.”

Keigo knew you better than you knew yourself in moments like this.

“I see why you didn’t appreciate me being so mean,” Keigo clicked his tongue, smoothing a hand over your naked waist.  “I’m sorry, little bird. Do you want to stop, or do you want me to help you?”

You thought for a moment, worrying your bottom lip.

“Can you h-help, daddy?” You kept your words as soft as you could. “I-I’ll be good this time, promise.” 

Keigo practically purred, content either way, but happy to help you settle. This was as much for you as it was for him. 

“You’re already good,” He shifted beneath you, some of his own bound up tension releasing, “Of course, little bird. I’ve got you now.”

There was an unspoken apology in words, one that was felt a moment later, as he pressed his lips to your, cupping your jaw with tender hands.

His thumbs wiped away any residual tears as you pressed closer, burying your hands in his hair. His feathers shifted and rippled nearby, his cock twitching inside you. 

“You hold on good to me, okay?” He murmured against your lips, holding you close as you massaged through his blonde waves. “Nice and tight, perfect.”

You nodded as if you’d ever let go.

Carefully, he repositioned the two of you. Your shaking thighs were given rest as he tipped you onto your back, helping you flatten atop the sheets. His cock remained buried, still hard, and somehow, Keigo’s will to not rail you remained intact.

It was surprising, given how impulsive he was so often was.

Then again, Keigo liked doing this, liked holding you close and tender while stroking the part of your mind that needed to feel smaller, weaker, and taken care of well and thoroughly. In turn, you held the part of his mind that desperately couldn’t stop taking care of others, that self-sacrificial nature that needed an outlet that was healthier than throwing himself at the evils of the world without pause. 

In the cultivated home you two had made, you cared for each other how the other needed.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Keigo hummed, hovering over you, splaying your legs out with wide palms. “You’re gonna listen really well, and I’ll let you have my cock like I’m sure you want, understand?”

You nodded, trying to muster up some self-confidence.

Keigo looked smitten with himself once more, though his features and poise were slack and gentle. Any of his earlier meanness had dissolved, tucked away for another night where you both could handle it.  

He nosed against your cheek, dragging his lips across your jaw to the shell of your ear. His hand drifted over your navel, higher to tease your yummy and then to your tits, twisting a nipple before he delicately laid his fingers, one by one, around your throat.

He gave a preliminary squeeze, watching your reaction. 

You swallowed around his hold, taking a shaking breath at the pressure.

“Does this feel nice, little bird?” 

“Uh-huh,” You nodded, his hold tightening a moment later. 

“Good, perfect,” Keigo grinned against your skin and nipped at your ear. “You’re doing so well.”

The simple praise made you shudder.

Keigo pressed his lips to your own, holding around your throat firmly and unwavering, throat, applying pressure just right to make your head spin.

The moment he pulled away, eyes shining, he let up.

You took sucked in a quick inhale, just before he kissed you again, repeating the pattern. Mounting, delicious pressure on your throat with each kiss, with just a moment or two or reprieve that he gave you.

It sank you perfectly. 

He kept at it, dragging you to arch underneath him with just kisses and tongue, pulling your breath from you with his hands and his own quiet groans.

If you tried to chase his lips, he easily pushed you back into the sheets, bearing down on you with the weight of his chest, wings fluffing up and fluttering. A quick nip or two had you lax into the mattress within moments.  

It was all so perfectly enough, your head spinning with each of his touches. 

And finally, he pulled away, both of your lips kiss-bitten and pupils wide and black.

“There we go,” He stroked the side of your face, kissing down your neck to your collarbones. “A little bit mean, a little bit nice. You did so well— such a good girl.“

The praise made your cunt tense, fingers curling at the base of his wings. 

Keigo looked equally as content as you. He wanted to see you slip and puddle beneath him. As much as he still had a mean streak for the day, he could channel it elsewhere, pepper it in as needed. Not teasing you at all would be sin. 

“C-can I have your cock now?” You asked, voice high and sweet. Your gaze was reverence itself, all for him.

Keigo chuckled, rolling his hips just the /slightest/ bit, “You’ve got it already, greedy girl.”

Your frowned, eyes already growing wet, “That’s not w-what I mean.”

“That’s too bad,” Keigo sighed, rubbing little circles along your hips. “Guess this is all you’re getting.”

“N-no!” Your voice almost broke as you tried to tug him closer. “I want you to be fuck me, p-please, I’ll do whatever you ask!” 

“You should already be doing that,” Keigo snorted, stilling any movement. “I don’t know if you really want it.”

Of course, he knew how much you craved him, he could see it in every twitch and desperate whimper that got caught in the back on the back of your tongue. 

“I do!“ You tried to move your hips against his own, but he held them flat and steady.  “Please, please, please—“

Keigo paused, tilting his head slowly and regarding you with pensive eyes. 

You reached out for his wrist, pulling it to your lips to lay gentle kiss after kiss over the skin. The touch, no matter the setting, always had him shuddering. Keigo was a whore for many things, but genuine, heartfelt affection was reliably near the top of the list.

Still— 

“Bribery?” He snorted. “Cute.” 

You were getting desperate. Tears started to leak from you once more, sobs held themselves in the back of your throat. The stretch of your cunt had started to burn. The lack of touch anywhere near your sex made you so needy, it hurt.

“D-daddy, please—!”

And you started babbling. 

It was Keigo’s favorite thing to see you so desperate and wanting that you lost the ability to have coherent thought beyond wanting him in the rawest and unbridled way.

Your words were dribble. Pleads and begging that your floating little mind drew up without pause. Details and filth that he’d coaxed from you so well, he couldn’t help but be burningly proud. Each word was so shameless, it made Keigo’s his split into a cocky smile. 

Losing yourself beneath him, good and proper. And you hadn’t even been fucked yet. 

“There we go,” Keigo hummed, groaning as he fucked into you once, hard and deep to where the top of his cock brushed against your deepest parts. “Let go for me, little bird. Daddy’s got you.”

And he did—

And you knew it. 

And so with the next slam of his cock into your cunt, you let your eyes roll back into your head and be enveloped by sensation. Heat buried in your yummy, slick dripping from his cock, sticky the skin that was shared between the two of you.

You both dissolved into the other.

Keigo didn’t hold back, all of that pent up stress and anger projected into the cant of his hips, the grip that bruised your hips, and the way his wings arched and stretched to the ceiling. 

He muttered to you and himself, cursing with each thrust about how much he ‘deserved to have your tight little cunt—his tight cunt however he wanted’. About how your body and all its curves and features were ‘his, only his’ and he could fuck you in and fuck you up in whatever way he pleased.

Each dripped word pushed you hotter and hotter. 

You drowned so pleasantly in his words as your peak snuck to hit you hard and fast.

You were so pleasantly high on him and his words and body, you didn’t notice his hand slipping between your bodies, hiking your legs over his shoulder in one motion, and circling and tugging on your clit the next.

Keigo might have commanded you to come, you couldn’t tell. The moment he gave your clit the slightest cruel twist, sweet pain igniting, your vision went white and you wailed.

Your nails dug into the base of Keigo’s wings, pushing him over the edge in the same breath as you. He cursed, loud and breaking as his arms collapsed on either side of your head.

He didn’t fuck you through his own orgasm, just pressed the tip of his cock to your womb and circled your clit as you twitched and cried, all for him.

And things stilled.

Your legs were lowered, your gooey mind understood. You pawed at the wetness on your face, a mix of tears and dripped sweat between the two of you.

As Keigo slipped out of you, after so long, you hissed, cunt sore and thighs aching.

“H-hurts,” You murmured, tugging Keigo closer, though he’d hardly gone ar. 

Keigo hushed you, stealing a kiss or two before rolling sideways onto the sticky sheets, tugging you to his chest.

His hand slipped between your legs, pushing a bit of leaking cum back into your sore cunt, as he so often did after stuffing you so full. Kindly, he rubbed at your thighs, any of his earlier snark gone.

“Does this feel better?” He smiled into your hair, you could feel it. 

You made a noise of affirmation, all you could muster, and leaned into Keigo, properly sated. 

Your eyes went half-lidded, exhaustion and euphoria holding you equally. After the teasing and torture you’d endured on Keigo’s cock, you imagined you’d be walking oddly for at least a day, and sore for a few more. 

You frowned, Keigo beaming you a smug smile and tugging you closer, “Something wrong, little bird.”

“D-daddy,” You huffed, patting his chest weakly. “You were so mean!”

“And you,” Keigo tapped the tip of your nose, “did a perfect job at telling me it was too much and didn’t feel good. I’m so proud, you do so good for me.”

Part of you wanted to be a brat with him, puff and sulk a bit more, but you couldn’t muster up the will. Keigo knew that praise made you the sweetest and happiest you could be and consider how he had struck a few nerves, enough to make you light-safeword, you deserved it all.

You grumbled in the back of your throat and buried your face in his chest.

“Will a nice massage and a warm shower make it up to you?” Keigo asked, the pads of his fingers flitting down your spine, less for comfort and more for looking for any visible bruises or scratches. 

“Almost,” You sniffled. “Can we watch a m-movie too? I can make tea.”

“That’s a given, we can snuggle all night, little bird, I’d like that very much,” Keigo sighed with his own contentment. “And I’ll make tea too.”

You let out your own trail of high laughter as Keigo peppered kisses wherever he could, heaping you with sweetness as his wings, still trembling from orgasm, fluttered with his happiness. 

“I can pick you out a nice, comfy outfit—  maybe those cute, toasty stockings you like so much,” Keigo knew how to stroke the most melted and small parts of your mind, so well. You fell into his offer and kisses with a smile.

“Your favorite stockings? The knit ones?” You teased, nipping at his jaw, and letting your own touch drift and linger around the tender flesh where the base of his wings met the muscles around his spine.

(Keigo wouldn’t admit it to many, but they ached most days. His body, though trained immaculately, wasn’t truly meant to bear the weight it did.)

(But, you were happy to lift some his own burdens.”

You massaged the flesh, touch firm even through Keigo’s initial arch and startled jolt. 

“Can I rub some of that oil on these too?” You murmured, tangling your sweaty legs together. “You’ve been working too hard lately, daddy. They’ve gotta hurt.”

“Hm,” Keigo cupped your jaw, drawing your face away to nuzzle your noses together, something warm and so precious, you only saw it in his most comfortable moments. “Aren’t I supposed to be taking care of you?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help,” You wanted to, you liked to, and you liked seeing daddy— Keigo, relax after scenes, sessions, and long days. “Please?”

“Of course, dove,” Keigo’s eyes crinkled at the corners, with a smile all for the two of you. “Let’s lay for a little longer, alright?”

His touch, honeyed and kind without a hint of teasing, drifted to the lowest part of your back, finding the roots of your tension and tending to them, as you tended to his. 

You were happy to tangle with him, content and intertwined. 

 ||||||||||

thank you for reading!! 💕

ko-fi 

[bokuroskitten]

𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱’𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔎𝔦𝔯𝔱?

〈you really didn’t mind being the nanny for Daichi’s kids, not when it came with perks.

✮ genre: NSFW 18+ (MINORS DNI)

✮ warnings: Dilf Daichi, daddy kink (daddy title used), age gap, use of handcuffs, spanking, oral (m! receiving), face fucking, creampie, slight breeding kink, cockwarming, spit <3

✮ word count: 2.8

❦ shout out to dilf Daichi, who takes up all the space in my brain

❦ huge thank you to @ohno-otome @oneblonded @rosesandtoshi who took their time to beta this for me, please give them love and appreciation.

“You little slut. What if my kids had seen huh? The fact that you’re not wearing any panties under this little skirt?”

“I’m sure they didn’t notice, but you sure did, huh Daddy?”

You were a cheeky little thing, that was for sure. Daichi had never expected this sort of outcome, not with you, the sweet university babysitter he hired. But there you were, asking for it with that shit-eating grin on your face.

It had been just Daichi and his kids for quite some time, him and the three munchkins. Mom didn’t stick around when she fell for her boss. A businessman, much older and much richer. Daichi had gotten over it, as best as he could. He had all he needed with his kids, who were always full of contagious happiness. But it was tough, being a single dad and working as a full-time cop. When the night shifts started to roll around Daichi took it upon himself to find a suitable nanny.

Which was how the two of you met. You were in university and desperately needed the extra money for the looming student debt. Looking for jobs wasn’t the easiest thing, but what was easy was saying yes to Daichi’s offer. He was willing to pay you more than minimum wage for nights, even offered you the spare room if things got too late or you had class early the next morning. Plus his kids were angels. They got along with you almost instantly, clinging to your legs or begging you to stay longer than your allotted shift time.

Plus, Daichi himself was nice to look at, but you tried your best not to focus on that point.

You had been working for Daichi for a while now, it was almost routine for you to attend volleyball practices, dance recitals, or even just dinner picnics. The kids loved having you around, and all Daichi wanted to do was to see them happy. But that’s when he noticed it, the one day the family had gone to the park. You held the hands of his two youngest, while his oldest showed off the bug he had found hiding in a nearby bush.

It was the way you smiled at them, the way you squeezed the girl's hands a little tighter when they cringed at the bug. The way you bent at the knees to take a better look, and the way your pretty summer dress had risen up just enough for Daichi to sneak a peek at the cotton panties hidden underneath.

Daichi wasn’t blind. In fact, it had been a long time since he indulged himself in a partner. Never enough time, or never willing to bring them home to the kids. But you, you already got along with his babies so well. You took your time to take care of them, even take care of Daichi when you could. Cleaned the house before he got home, ironed his uniform on his night shifts, even brought him coffee when he had early mornings.

So that’s how his glances turned into stares, his roaming eyes turned into winks. The hugs you shared lasted a little longer, the hand he would place on your back would slide a little lower.

He could still remember the very first move he had made. You had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up in one of his sweaters. The kids were put to bed long before, but you always waited for Daichi to return before taking your leave. He had leaned in close, allowing his lips to brush over your forehead. The gentle motion had caused you to stir, tired eyes lazily blinking open to be met with honey brown.

“Why don’t you sleep here tonight?” Daichi had murmured, staying close considering you didn’t push him away. You on the other hand felt your heart beating hard against your ribcage, the smell of his familiar cologne making you feel a bit dizzy. The feeling of sleep slowly faded, replaced with the hazy feeling of need.

Need for him, for anything and everything as long as it was him.

“Can I sleep with you?” It had slipped out of your lips before you could stop yourself. You panicked for a moment seeing his shocked expression, ready to blame it on the tiredness. But there was no need when he pressed his lips against yours when he scooped you off the couch and easily hauled you up into his bedroom.

That was only the beginning. The two of you found yourself kissing in the bathroom while the kids played outside, Daichi having you warm his cock during family movie night. The first time you had whimpered out Daddy while he had you bent over his lap was still engraved in his brain. The longer the affair went on, the more playful and lust-filled it became.

So that's how the two of you ended up here, now.

Daichi had you pinned against the counter now, palm pressed against your head to keep you down while his palm slowly rose up your thigh. He groaned when his fingers slipped under the short hem of your skirt, reaching the swell of your ass only to find no panties there.

“Course I noticed, with how you were bending over all over the place, anyone coulda seen this slutty little ass.” His words were husky, pushed out between gritted teeth as he squeezed the plump skin of your ass. You whined at him, face flushed as your hips wiggled into his palm.

That only made him strike down on your skin, his palm open as the spank clapped throughout the room. “Slutty girls don’t get to be greedy like that. I think I need to put you in your place, is that it? Have you lost all your manners, baby?”

You tried to shake your head, nod, do anything. But your brain was already foggy as Daichi brought down another spank, making the skin of your ass pulse. “Want your cock, Daddy.”

“Oh, yeah? And your way of asking was prancing around with no panties on?” The third slap was the hardest, and this time on your bare flesh. He had bunched your skirt up at your waist, making you jolt from the sudden slap to your skin. His hand print was already forming when he rubbed the cheek, a low hum leaving his chest.

“You’re just like the kids huh? Thinking you can get away with anything if you’re cute enough. Not in this house. You should know that by now baby.” His voice sent shivers all the way down to your cunt, the wetness already threatening to dribble down your thighs. “Hands behind your back.”

You tried to question him, but the fourth spank had you yelping, reminding you that his words were a command and not a request. You felt the cold metal click around both your wrists, a blush rising on your cheeks when you tried to pull your hands away only to find them stuck in place.

“Daddy’s gonna teach his pretty baby what happens to bad little girls looking for attention.”

You were hauled over his shoulder before you even had a chance to complain. Daichi had no problem carrying your squirming body up the stairs, your whines and complaints falling upon deaf ears. When he closed the door to his bedroom he put you on the ground, which only made you whine more as he approached the bed without you.

“Daddy—“

“Get over here.” He explained calmly. His muscles were tense, but his face showed no emotion as he sat on the edge of his bed. When you made no move he rose an expectant brow. “We don’t have all day, would you rather I fuck my fist—“

“No!”

Interrupting him, another act of disobedience that made his brow twitch in distaste. “Get over here.” He repeated, this time his voice a bit deeper, more serious.

You didn’t waste another second, scrambling over on your knees. It was difficult with your hands cuffed, but you made it between his thighs. You were about to press kisses against his thighs before you felt him grab a handful of hair at the nape of your neck. When he cranked your head back you yelped, shoulders slouching at the look he gave you.

Cold.

“Open your mouth.” There was no hesitation this time when your trembling lower lip opened up, tongue poking out. Daichi tsked, grabbing the end of your tongue and pulling it out further. Tears pricked your eyes at the action, drool uncontrollably slipping out of your mouth.

“Being shy now, are we? How can you act so modest when you aren’t even wearing panties.” He spat a wad of saliva on your tongue, his lips twitching in a grin as he watched your eyes flutter, a little mewl leaving your hung lips. He slowly released your tongue but kept his grip on your hair tight. “Don’t swallow. Keep that tongue out.”

You were trembling a bit, trying your best to keep your excitement at bay and hold his spit on your tongue as he unbuckled his slacks. He pulled the belt out in one smooth motion, pulling the material far enough down that his cock could spring free. When it slapped back against his abs, you clenched your thighs together tightly.

He wasted no more time guiding your head onto his cock, pressing it down until your throat bulged, until you gagged, until your nose was nestled in his trimmed pubic hair.

“Now, I’m gonna have to wash this filthy mouth out. Fuck some manners into your throat huh?”

He thrust into your throat without pause, his hand continuing to hold you steady as he fucked into your mouth. The tears were already spilling from your eyes, drool freely bubbling past stretched lips as Daichi used your mouth as he saw fit. He pulled out just until his tip stayed lodged between your lips, groaning at the way you desperately tried to suck in air through your nose. You were already coming undone, and it was so beautiful to watch.

“Crying over a little punishment? You’re such a little bitch.” He waited until you began suckling on his tip, attempting to whine around it before pumping it into your mouth again. He kept one hand against your throat, pupils dilating in feral desire every time he felt it bulge under his fingertips. He didn’t last with a pace like this, his hips stuttering when his release wracked over him hard.

“Swallow every fucking drop, you’re gonna need it to wash out that mouth.” He grunted, holding your face down as ropes of hot cum slipped from his pulsing tip. You shook around his dick, throat clenching so desperately as the hot, sticky substance slid down your throat, feeling warm all the way down into your belly.

Daichi pulled out with a pop, one that had you sucking in a shaky breath. When you blinked the remaining tears from your lashes you lulled your tongue out, showing him a clean surface that had him humming in approval.

“Looks like you are good for something, huh, taking all my cum down your throat.”

Using the grip in your hair he easily hauled you to your feet, watching the way you stumbled face-first into the mattress. Your face was a mess of spit and drool as you looked up at him over your shoulder, hips rutting into his soft sheets. “D-Daddy...”

“D-d-daddy” He mimicked, flipping your skirt up and tucking the hem in at the waist. He wasted no time grabbing your hips, pulling them up for a better angle. “You’re a big girl, use your words.”

You had to compose yourself, mind already going blank as he simply spread your ass apart, getting a better look at your arousal. “C-Can you fuck me please? Need your cock Daddy..”

“Now if you had just asked me like that before, none of this woulda happened Angel...” He sighed it out, two fingers slowly sliding up your puffy slit to collect your slick. He rubbed it along his cock, even though it was already lubed up with your spit. “I don’t like when you misbehave you know that baby girl.”

His voice had already gotten softer, making your cunt flutter around nothing. When he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit you mewled, nails digging into your palms as the cuffs clinked around your trembling wrists. “Gunna say sorry to me hm? Wanna hear you say it nice and pretty.”

“Sorry Daddy, M’sorry” it spilled from your lips, words slightly muffled by the sheets as he rubbed his tip over your slit. “Won’t do it again Daddy, just wanna make you happy, want your cock.”

“I know sweetheart, you’re such a good girl for me, even when you decide to be a little cheeky.”

He began to press into you, slow and steady. He wanted to feel all your little dips, all the bumps and spongy spots he loved so dearly as he bottomed out within you. Your mouth hung open in a little ‘o’, back arching so his tip could tap against your cervix when he finally bottomed out. “Fuck, love this perfect little cunt, still squeezes me like the first time.” He growled out, fingers reaching for the cuffs. He gripped them tightly, used them as leverage for when he began to fuck into you.

It was slow and deep, each thrust meant to press his tip into your sweet spot. The pace had your eyes rolling back, babbles spilling out of your hung lips in a dumb little mantra. It didn’t even make sense, Daichi knew that, but he just loved to hear you. Loved hearing you whimper and ramble about how you loved his cock, about how daddy’s cock felt so good, about how you wanted to be no ones but his.

“My good little girl, takin' my cock so well. Gunna fuck a baby in here one day, would you like that Angel? Wanna be the mommy to my beautiful kids and our own?”

That had you squeezing his cock, a low groan vibrating in his chest as he picked up his pace. The slap of his hips against your ass echoed in the room, your cries of delight being muffled into the sheets. Using his grip on the cuffs he yanked you forward until your back was pressed into his chest. He stuffed two fingers between your lips, having you both moan in unison.

“Keep milkin' my cock just like that baby girl, gunna fill this little cunt and then fuck right back into it so we don’t lose a single drop.” You babbled a ‘yes daddy’ around his fingers, head lulled onto his shoulder as he thrust into your cunt. It was pulsing around him, building up a pool of arousal in your abdomen that was so close to snapping. When his free hand snaked to your clit, rubbing deep circles into it had you sobbing, hips humping frantically to meet his thrusts and chase your release.

“That’s it...” Daichi murmured by your ear, his breath thick and hot as he snapped into your ass. His finger slid from your mouth instead, only to grip your pretty throat. “Cum sweetheart, cum on my cock yea? Wanna feel you cream on me.”

And you did just that, with a silent scream and a jolt of your body finishing around his cock. That final squeeze of your cunt around him had Daichi moaning, his thrusts messy and uncoordinated as his own high ripped through him. His balls twitched as he emptied another load in you, hot cum making goosebumps form all over your skin. He slowed his thrusts, his fingers pressing light taps into your clit now as you rode out the high together. He watched as his cock got coated in a white sheen, the shine of your mixed arousal making him bite his lower lip.

“What a good girl...” He huffed. He reached between you two to release the safety from the handcuffs, allowing them to fall to the bed with a clank. He was gentle as he laid the two of you down, a mess of limbs and sweat as he stayed balls deep in your cunt.

“Gunna stay just like this. Keep you nice and plugged.” He reassured, one palm smoothing over your tummy as he pressed kisses into your shoulder. “At least until the kids wake back up, gotta make sure Daddy’s cum stays inside, isn’t that right baby?”

“Right Daddy,” you murmured out, blissed and fucked out. You could have fallen asleep, just like that with his dick still buried inside. But you knew the kids would be up in thirty minutes from their naps, so you’d enjoy this time while you could, being full.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Fire and Ice Day for @nessianweek Yes, I just wanted an excuse to write more hockey player Cassian. No, I will not be taking criticisms at this time. Follow up to this drabble. Hope you enjoy! :) 

Nesta steps out of the English building, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, winter air. The lecture hall had been stifling, and the way Professor Matthews had droned on and on about Chekhov had her desperate for the class to end. She cuts across the Commons, heading toward the library, when she hears heavy footsteps fall in beside her. She doesn't need to look to know who they belong to. 

"So about that dinner," Cassian starts. 

"I don't actually recall agreeing to it." 

"Well, how else am I supposed to thank you for being there in my time of concussion need?" 

"You don't need to thank me. Maybe I was just hoping to see if a good thwack to your head would finally fix it. Clearly, it didn't." 

"Sadly, all it did was make my two working brain cells become just one," Cassian says, putting on his best solemn tone. 

The comment pulls a surprised laugh out of Nesta, and when she turns her head to look at Cassian, his smile is wide and his eyes are bright. She swears she can almost see pride swimming in those flecks of gold that make up his hazel eyes. 

"So what time should I pick you up?" 

Nesta doesn't respond. She merely rolls her eyes with a scoff and continues toward the library. That is until Cassian uses his long strides to step in front of her, effectively cutting her path off. 

"What do you have to lose?"

"My sanity?" 

"So 6:00 then?" 

Nesta takes a moment to take Cassian in. He still has that cocky grin that never seems to leave splashed across his face. But she doesn't miss the way he fidgets, running a hand through his tangle of dark curls, nor does she miss the nervous pinch around his eyes. She supposes she could go for a good meal, and while Cassian most definitely gets under her skin, he's not the worst company. 

"I have to meet with my group for our psychology project. 7:00?" 

"Deal." 

The smile on Cassian's face pulls even wider, and Nesta's pretty sure the only thing keeping him from actually cheering is the way he clenches his fists at his side. It's endearing, and Nesta bites the inside of her cheek to keep her own smile tampered down. 

"Well, see you then," Nesta says, starting back toward her original destination of the library. 

"Wear something nice, yeah?" Cassian calls after her. 

Nesta flips him off over her shoulder at the comment, and Cassian's booming laughter follows her all the way across the Commons. 

Luckily, meeting with the students in her group project isn't too migraine inducing. They divvy up the work and all agree on who will take which slides. When she makes it back to her dorm, she pulls a black dress out and gets started on her makeup. 

At 7:00 on the dot, there's a knock at her door. She quickly slips on her heels before pulling it open, Cassian waiting on the other side. The way that Cassian's mouth drops open and the awed way he whispers, "holy shit," has a blush creeping in and settling on Nesta's cheeks. 

"You clean up nice," she notes. 

And he does. Cassian has on a button down, the sleeves rolled up slightly, the tanned skin of his forearms and the ink that swirls against it on full display. Both the shirt and the black slacks he's wearing are form fitting, showing off the athletic cut to his body, years of skating having done wonders for honing the muscles. And while Cassian's dark curls are loose against his shoulders, Nesta can tell he's put product in it. 

Nesta waits for Cassian to make some sort of quip back after her comment, maybe for him to even comment on her, but he just continues to stare like he can't believe she's actually real. She tries not to focus on the fact that look has her heart beating double time in her chest, or the fact that warmth settles through her whole body. Instead, Nesta just rolls her eyes and steps fully into the hall, closing her door behind her. The sound seems to jolt Cassian back to reality, who blinks hard before his eyes focus properly on Nesta's own. 

"Wait," he says. "Bring your skates."

"My skates?" Nesta asks confusedly. "I thought we were going to dinner?"

"We are, but bring them."

"Why?"

"Just bring them." 

Nesta sighs, clearly not getting a straight answer out of him. But she heads back inside, stuffing a heavy pair of socks into her skates. She steps into the hall, skates in hand, and raises a pointed eyebrow as if to ask, 'happy?' Cassian's just answers with a wide grin. 

Cassian leads Nesta down to his truck, and she's surprised when he drives them to one of the higher end chophouses downtown. Dinner is good and the conversation flows easily between them. Cassian even asks Nesta about her current book and actually looks genuinely interested as she explains it. Although, his smirk is infuriating as she tries to subtly skip over the more… scandalous parts. 

After dinner, they clamber back into Cassian's truck, and Nesta's brow pinches in confusion as they pull into the rink parking lot. This explains the skate request. When Nesta looks over at Cassian, his eyes are already on her. Under the yellow glow of the parking lot lights, his eyes look extra golden, but Nesta doesn't miss the mischievous glint swimming in them. 

"I'm not exactly dressed for skating," Nesta points out, glancing down at her dress as if to prove her point. 

"Says who?"

"I'm serious." 

Rather than respond, Cassian just reaches back into the backseat of his truck, producing one of the hockey team sweatshirts, which he holds out toward Nesta. Nesta hesitates for only a moment before she's pulling it on over her dress. It's clearly too big on her, but the fabric is soft and the scent of fabric softener and Cassian fills her senses. 

When they get inside, the Friday night public skate is still in full swing, families and awkward high school dates milling about on the ice and in the lobby. In their attire, Nesta is sure that she and Cassian must stick out like sore thumbs. They walk up to the reception desk, and Nesta expects Cassian to ask for two passes for the public skate, but instead he and the rink staffer share a pointed look and then a key is being slid inconspicuously into Cassian's hand. Before Nesta can even start to ask what that means, Cassian is grabbing her hand, pulling her down the hall, past the locker rooms and snack bar. His eyes quickly dart around before he slides the key into the right side of the double doors, tugging Nesta inside and flipping on the lights. 

"The tiny-ass practice rink?" Nesta asks, looking around.

"Bal owes me a favor," Cassian explains, pocketing the key. 

Cassian grabs Nesta's hand again and leads her around to the benches. They each take their time trading their shoes for skates before stepping out onto the ice. 

There's something about the way ice feels under her feet that calms Nesta in a way nothing else can. The cutting sound of her skates against it is like music to her ears. She glides easily to center ice, taking a deep breath and letting the cold welcome her into its embrace. She feels Cassian's presence behind her, warm hands settling on her hips. 

"You know you look better in this sweatshirt than I ever did," he says, voice pitched low. 

"Sounds like a personal problem," Nesta counters, turning around to face Cassian. "It's not my fault even hockey things look better on figure skaters." 

"Big words coming from someone who needs a toe pick to stop."

"That's not what a toe pick is for." 

"How about a race then? To settle things." 

"Fine." 

They both skate over to the goal line, getting into their starting positions. Cassian counts them in with a ‘ready, set, go,’ and then they’re off, sprinting down the ice. Nesta’s hair whips past her face, the cool rink air rushing along her cheeks, as she pushes her legs to go faster and faster still. Cassian crosses the other goal line first, an icy spray flying up as he stops hard before the boards. Nesta stops beside him, crossing her arms as she takes in his wide smirk. 

"You totally cheated."

"What? I did not."

"You have longer legs. It's an unfair advantage."

"Sounds like excuses to me. Just admit it. Hockey players are better."

"Are they? Could a hockey player do this?" 

Nesta pushes off the boards and settles easily into her stride. A swing of her leg and a push of her foot and she's up in the air, pulling her arms in tight as she twists and twists around. Her feet land back on the ice and she glides out of the move gracefully. When her eyes land back on Cassian, his own are wide and awed as he watches her. But then his eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Who’s cheating now?” 

“Fine. Something simple then.” 

Nesta jumps and does a single twist, holding her arms out when she lands and raising an eyebrow toward Cassian in challenge. His eyes stay narrowed on her, but he pushes off the boards, settling into a stride toward center ice. 

“How hard can it be,” Cassian mutters. 

Cassian skates a few circles, clearly trying to walk himself through the move, trying to hype himself up. Nesta has to bite the inside of her cheek while she waits. After a few moments, he throws himself into the air, spinning around once. His skates land back on the ice, and for a moment, Nesta is about to be impressed, but then his left foot is slipping out from under him. He falls ass-first onto the ice with a loud ‘oof.’ 

Nesta can’t help the loud laugh that tears its way out of her chest. She tries to press a hand to her mouth to stifle it, but her whole body shakes with it. When she finally calms down and finds Cassian's stare again, his face is marred with an unimpressed frown. 

“I’m so glad my pain brings you joy,” Cassian says sarcastically before holding his arms up toward her. “Aren’t you going to help me up?” 

“No.” 

Nesta realizes she’s made a mistake. A slow smirk slides across Cassian’s face and even from across the rink, there’s no missing the mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Nesta can even blink, Cassian is on his feet and charging toward her across the ice. The rink is small with nowhere to go, so soon Nesta finds herself cornered back against the boards, Cassian’s arms bracketing her in on either side. 

Cassian opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but it gets lost along the way, and instead he just stares. This close up, Nesta can see the greens hidden in his hazel eyes, the way they flicker under the rink lights. Cassian’s eyes drop down to her lips before settling back on her eyes, and Nesta’s heart does a little flip in her chest. 

"Can I kiss you?"

"What if I say no?"

Cassian leans in closer, and Nesta can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips, is sure that he can feel the way the breath hitches in her throat. 

"Say no, then," Cassian whispers. 

The silence hangs between them for only a second before Cassian closes the distance, pressing his lips to Nesta’s. Nesta practically melts into it, pressing closer as their lips slot and slide against one another. One of Cassian’s hands comes up to bracket her jaw, his other arm wrapping securely around her waist. She can feel the way he sighs against her lips, the deep groan in his chest as the kiss deepens. 

"Hey, why are the lights on back here?" 

They break apart at the sudden voice, Cassian taking Nesta’s hand and tugging her down so they’re hidden behind the boards and out of sight. They can hear the footsteps of the rink staffer walking around, and Nesta turns to glare at Cassian. 

"I swear, if we end up arrested because of you…"

"Don't worry. I'd never let that happen. We're both too pretty for jail."

[singswan-springswan]

HCs for Falcon Torres, since he’s still living in my brain rent-free

First of all him baby

he is precious and soft and must be protected at all costs

I prefer him to be six-limbed rather than have his arms double as his wings because structurally that just makes more sense to me, + aesthetically it looks a lot better. Also like, how is he supposed to dramatically swoop and catch people midair if he’s using his arms to fly like,,, is he supposed to use his legs…? To hold stuff…? this post for visual reference/my personal take

he do got that third eyelid

poor boy can’t find a comfortable position to sleep in for the first few days; the wings are big and bulky and awkward when he’s horizontal. eventually some of the gang got together and made him a lil perch in his room that’s kind of like a bench with a padded cushion mounted in front of it so his legs can just free hang but his butt and chest are supported and there’s plenty of room for the wings

sensory overloads. like, this kid had enhanced eyesight, hearing, and accelerated healing dumped on him all at once. it’s a lot to get used to, and sometimes he needs to take a min sitting in a dark quiet room before the migraine starts to fade. Sam always tries to be there helping him through it because that’s his sidekick gosh darn and tbh who DOESN’T want to give the baby angel gentle hugs and pats on the head and talk to him in a low, soothing voice?

I’m sure the wings are really sensitive too. it’s not that they have a greater capacity for pain; he’s got a great pain tolerance all around, but if you breathe on the wings he’ll feel it. It’s a useful trait when flying comes into play because it’ll allow him to be very keyed in on air currents and how best to maneuver in flight for maximum efficiency so that he’s not spending a ton of energy fighting the wind. bUT it also makes touching the wings sort of a big deal. like poor kid they’re so large and at first these muscles he’s never had before are aching just to hold the wings shut so that they’re not in the way all the time, but there must be moments when in spite of his efforts someone brushes against him or touches without asking and it’s just—it feels like a lot. He probably wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid contact, but he’s not a super cuddly person in the show so I guess his reactions are up to circumstantial interpretation. Like there are probably some people who could touch his wings without him batting an eye: his mom and grandma, or Sam, for starters. but if it’s a stranger that’s got to make him a little uncomfortable.

since it’s a given that everyone loves Torres, I’d like to think he also got a custom birdbath as a gift from someone rich like Pepper. Keeping his feathers clean is a very important part of staying hygienic—which would be difficult enough if he wasn’t following Sam around doing superhero stuff for goofs and giggles. If his wings aren’t carefully preened on a regular basis, it can cause irritation and discomfort, and because he has so many feathers, he needed an efficient way to cleanse the grime in one swoop so he’s not spending hours every day picking through them. He gets the hang of using the giant bath after a few tries (it’s just a fancy swimming pool with stupidly strong jets built in). Luckily, the bath also comes with velocity dryers that blast the wings and catch anything else all his splashing around might have missed. This system works well enough that it doesn’t carve out huge chunks of his time, but he still does need a routine preening every couple of weeks or so. Usually he has to ask someone for help because (shocker) he isn’t as flexible as an actual bird and can’t reach some of the spots on the outsides of his wings. It’s kind of an intimate bonding moment but it needs to be done and baby was a little embarrassed to ask at first but everyone in his immediate vicinity is always ready to help at the drop of a hat (yes, even Bucky) so eventually he just finds someone who he knows won’t be busy for a bit and plops down in front of them with his wings in their lap. There are a handful of combs and brushes that get the job done but it’s always better by hand. I really like the image of Bucky and Sam sitting on the couch watching TV some lazy afternoon each with one wing to work on and Torres is chilling on the floor going through his email or somethin. He let AJ and Cass do it when they visited and they were very very excited and gentle.

after the initial shock of oh no! I’m a bird! and oh no! it’s permanent! Torres gets used to it and just accepts that this is his crazy life now. He’s not particularly vain but he did spend a while staring at himself in the mirror just to watch the light hit his feathers, turning in a circle a few times and generally trying to wrap his brain around having a new set of limbs yay.

of course, one of his first thoughts was “wonder if I can fly” because his bones didn’t totally hollow out from the transformation but his wings are massive and at the very least he could probably glide if he jumped from a high enough place. Bucky catches him experimentally testing different forms and lil flappy flaps in the gym and throws him off a building like the dad that he is. Sam was not happy to hear about that. But as it turns out, Torres CAN fly! so no harm done :)

The feathers are actually very durable. They’re flexible and glossy and don’t get damaged easily from just any rough and tumble. Sam let Torres wear the EXO when he first started to practice flying, and the thruster did singe his long ornamental tail feathers but the damage was surprisingly minimal. Sometimes he shields himself or others from stuff like projectiles or wind or blasts and other potentially harmful forces

He uses his wings for random practical things like shading himself from the sun or being an umbrella or even like a fluffy blanket if he’s cold. It’s super effective!

Torres couldn’t swim super well before he turned into a bird, but the wings just make it that much harder. the only silver lining is that they’re semi-waterproof and shed water considerably well but generally figuring out how to maneuver with them is a pain and usually ends up as a mild drowning scare. as long as he can stand up, he’s good, but any free-stroke or other such coordinated motorized activity is a lost cause. he tries to avoid bodies of water as a general rule when on missions because if he gets stuck then someone has to haul him out and that’s a whole ordeal because of the wings being awkwardly big and also he’s just kinda dead weight.

He had to relearn how to walk pretty much because the wings kept throwing him off balance and every time he stood up or took a step he kept falling on his butt

But like, once he gets the hang of it, he’s OFF he’s got the zoomies and sliding down halls in his fuzzy socks, bouncing off the walls because he can and generally acting like an excited young man with too much energy because of his fast metabolism. And it’s unclear whether the increased speed and agility is also a side-effect of the transformation, but he’s definitely scoring off the charts on those. He learns how to maneuver with the wings to stay aerodynamic or when to flag and redirect his momentum, and it’s not long before he’s flying circles around Sam because he’s fast enough and strong enough to keep pace with the EXO. Obviously he doesn’t have quite as good endurance and can’t stay airborne as long as Sam can, depending on how acrobatic he’s being, but they’re still a very closely even match in that field. Him go nyoom

little kids stare at him and ask if he’s an angel

oh boy when he MOLTS tho. His wings are huge, so he’s got a lot of feathers. and when he molts they go everywhere. He doesn’t have a lot of down because most of his feathers are on his wings but he does have some on his back and shoulders that drift around in the air like pollen spores when he be going thru it LOL he has to keep a shop vac in his room and tries to use it daily because even when he’s not molting he does shed a bit. The gang finds feathers in inconvenient places like coffee mugs in the cabinets or in the bathroom sink. Natasha yells at him every time she plops down on the couch and finds herself stabbed in the butt with one of his pretty lil flight feathers. like darn he’s so cute and his feathers are gorgeous but he’s leaving them EVERYWHERE dear lord. They all give him the side eye when he ruffles his wings and does the lil poof thing that birds do and like five feathers pop out and silently flutter to the ground and he’s SO CUTE KRIFF it’s really hard to be annoyed for long

He became exponentially more carnivorous after turning into Bird Man and is absolutely vicious for steak night/also he just has a dizzyingly fast metabolism almost as fast as Steve and Bucky’s and just shovels food down like a man starved at every meal. He eats most of his meat rare now which might be a side-effect from being mildly vampiric idk. Bruce is completely baffled by these developments because nothing about Torres anatomically or physiologically makes sense it’s almost as if his condition was engineered by some crazy fangirl who put way more emphasis on what looks cool and sounds fun rather than what scientifically tracks but then again this is marvel so when has actual science ever applied haha

The enhanced eyesight and hearing I mentioned earlier and I think is worth detailing a bit more. Because he is literally a Falcon hybrid thing, his eyes are better than yours. About eight times better, according to google. I would also like to give him infrared to small degree despite that being impossible since he’s still warm-blooded but oH WELL we ride, brothers. He likes to be annoying sometimes and read things from very far away just to show off. sometimes it’s helpful on a mission but sometimes he’s only goofing around for the sake of being like twenty years old. And the hearing isn’t really specific to falcon but I think it’s a good addition to his new ability set so make him hear things that no one else can hear except for other enhanced individuals, like heartbeats, and relaxed breathing, and voices in the apartment three floors up, and the family of mice in the walls that he wants to eat, and Alpine sneaking around in the cabinets probably looking for the poptart stash that Thor painstakingly hid last time he was here (which isn’t in the cabinets at all, you fool. it’s sequestered away behind a ceiling panel that Torres found while playing hide ‘n seek with Bucky—which he knows will be the death of him if he keeps dipping into but life is just one big yeehaw until you kick the bucket so tbh go for it man. besides, he can always replenish before Thor comes back). He and Bucky have aggressive hide ‘n seek competitions because both of them can hear each other with their enhanced senses so it’s more like a cat-mouse game than stay put and hunker down, which is just fine with Torres because he’s bulky and doesn’t like cramming himself into small spaces anyway if he can help it. Bucky doesn’t like hiding either. he’s too much of a unit.

If you can’t tell, everyone is still alive living happily ever after and ideally The Tower is still chilling under Tony’s name so all the newest acquisitions to the Found Avengers Family have their own space to be quirky and weird because fight me they deserve to get domestic. Ideally Torres makes quick friends with all the other youngins like Peter and Wanda who also be going thru the wack new powers phase and just want to get up to shenanigans and cause chaos already which annoys all of the veteran Avengers because it makes them feel way more parental and old than they are comfortable with. Clint and Sam get into arguments about who has custody of Torres because they’re both trying to claim him as their bird baby; Sam argues that he is the actual falcon/captain america whatever and Torres is his sidekick but Clint is also a bird and has far more experience being a dad not only to regular gremlins (Cooper and Lila and Nat) but also magic feral gremlins aka the Maximoff twins (Pietro is alive because he can dodge bullets shut up). Bucky thinks this is hilarious.

[gamergirl929]

I’m Coming Home (Tobin Heath x Reader)

After nearly 2 years overseas with the military, you’re finally coming home, and you’re coming home to Tobin Heath. 

DISCLAIMER: The following is a MILITARY FIC, with everything going on, I wanted to put a disclaimer, just in case for those who may be triggered by what’s going on. 

This is pure fluff. 

Military homecomings.    

You’d always seen videos of military homecomings, the relatives of the returning soldier cheering and crying, sometimes even screaming as their loved one returned safely home.    

You only hoped that you would get a similar reaction, after being away for so long, nearly 2 years in fact, you were finally coming home, and you were coming home to Tobin Heath and you were coming home in the most public way possible.    

You rubbed your hands together, nervously pacing the backstage area, the boots on your feet growing heavier and heavier as your nerves grew.    

What if she wasn’t excited to see you?    

What if she didn’t appreciate the surprise?    

The questions plaguing you caused your mind to race.    

The sound of approaching footsteps make you tense, your head on a swivel as you attempt to find a hiding spot, but when you realize it’s Christen Press who’s rounding the corner your muscles untense.    

“Hey.” You smile as the forward envelopes you in a hug, the woman squeaking when you pick her up off her feet and spin her around.  

“It’s so good to see you Y/N.” She grins, giving you the tightest of squeezes.    

You had the pleasure of meeting Christen Press long ago, considering she was basically Tobin's other half, in a friendly sense.  

You put her down with a grin, smiling when she places her hands on your shoulders.  

"So, everything is set, are you ready?" She asks and you shrug.  

"What if she doesn't like the-OW!" You wince as Christen smacks you in the arm. 

"She's going to love it, because she loves YOU." She pokes you in the chest and you shrug, your cheeks dusted pink.  

"You think so?"  

"Yea-  

"WHOA!"  

The pair of you jump, your eyes widening when you see Emily Sonnett standing before you, the blonde's eyes wide.  

"Wait, aren't you-  

Christen dives on the blonde, slapping a hand over her mouth.  

"SHHHH! TOBIN CAN'T FIND OUT ABOUT THIS!" She whisper yells, glancing down the hallway that Emily had made her way down to get to the two of you to make sure they were in fact alone.  

Emily gives the two of you a thumbs up, Christen's hand leaving her mouth.  

"I'm great at keeping secrets."  

Your brows arch when Christen rolls her eyes.  

"She isn't."  

Emily pouts.  

"I want to help! What do you need me to do, distract Tobin?" She asks with a grin, wiggling excitedly.  

A smile stretches across your face.  

"I like her."  

Emily's grin widens.  

"See, Y/N likes meeeeeeeee! Pleaseeeeeeeee?" Emily begs and Christen sighs. 

"Okay, okay, but if you ruin the surprise, I'll kill you." She threatens and Emily's eyes widen.  

“No need to get violent.”  

                                                             ***  

You watched with great pride as Tobin player her heart out, the woman assisting Christen on two goals. 

Though the closer the end of the game got, the more the nerves within you riled up.  

You paced the hallway you’d taken up occupancy in, your thoughts drifting to the day you’d met Tobin Heath.  

                                                             ***  

Meeting Tobin Heath had been what some would call, fate, if fate meant nearly bulldozing over the forward while on your morning jog, then yes, you would call it fate.  

You grimace, your eyes wide as you screech to a halt, the woman crashing to the sidewalk, the woman she was walking with dropping down on the ground beside her.  

You jerk your headphones out, your eyes wide in horror.  

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You say as you drop to your knees beside her, your eyes scanning her for any visible injuries.  

“It’s okay, I’ve had worse.”  

You frown as the woman begins to move to her feet, jumping up so you can help her up.  

When your hands meet hers, a spark shoots up your arm, something that she must feel as well considering she stiffens.  

The two of you pause, simply staring at one another, Y/E/C orbs locked with brown.  

“Hi.” You whispered, the woman’s lips splitting into a grin.  

“Hey.”  

Beside her, her brunette friend moves to her feet, her lips split into a massive grin.  

“I’m Y/N.” You whispered, giving her hand a squeeze, a squeeze she returned.  

“I’m Tobin.”  

                                                             ***  

You smile as your back rests against a nearby wall, remembering the day you met both Tobin and Christen, the two a package deal of sorts.  

Christen quickly became close with you as well, you were interested in dating her best friend after all.  

Unfortunately, the night you told Tobin how you felt was the night before you left for another deployment, but Tobin didn’t care, the woman’s lips meeting yours in an unforgettable kiss.  

She’d promised to wait for you, and she had, for two years she waited, and now, you were here, unbeknownst to her of course.  

“Hey.”  

You jump, a smile stretching across your face when you see Emily making her way towards you, donned in a yellow vest.  

“Show time?” She asks and you nod, your hands beginning to tremble.  

“Show time.”  

                                                             ***  

Emily makes her way back out to the bench, the blonde flopping down in the seat she’d just vacated beside Lindsey.  

“Where’d you go?” She asks and Emily shrugs.  

“Nowhere.”  

Lindsey’s eyes narrow.  

“You’re not a very good liar.” She snorts and Emily shushes her.  

“Just watch.”  

“Watch what?” Lindsey asks confused; the blonde’s question completely ignored by Emily.  

The final whistle blows, which signals to you that you’re to take your position at the tunnel’s entrance.  

Luckily for you Tobin keeps her head down, the woman high-fiving the Irish players on her way passed them.  

You can’t help but grin when you see her, your heart skipping a beat in your chest.  

You could only hope she would be as excited to see you, as you were her.  

“WE HAVE A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!” A voice booms over the intercom, players from the USWNT and the Ireland Women’s National Team glancing at one another in confusion.  

Tobin glances around, her brows furrowing when she sees the massive grin on Christen’s face.  

“What?” She asks and Christen shrugs, her smile widening.  

“Seriously Chris, what is it-  

“Join me in welcoming home! Y/N Y/L/N after two years of deployment!”  

Tobin’s eyes widen, the forward looking passed Christen to see you making your way out of the tunnel and towards her.  

Her lips split in an enormous grin, her brown orbs immediately filling with tears as she runs towards you, bypassing her teammates.  

You start to jog, unable to keep your composure as you run towards the woman who kept you going over the years.  

She leaps into your arms when she gets to you, the fans cheering as she wraps her legs around your middle.    

You spin the two of you around, smiling as Tobin surges in, her lips crashing against yours.  

Her nails scrape against the back of your neck as the two of you kiss, reluctantly pulling apart when you can’t stop grinning.  

Nearby, Emily grins, Lindsey smacking her in the arm.  

“You knew, didn’t you?! You asshole!”  

“If Em, knew then Christen HAD to have known...!” Kelley turns to Christen who shrugs.  

“Who do you think helped her set it up?” She nods to you, grinning when she sees you bury your face in the crook of Tobin’s neck, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You’re here.” She whispers in your ear and you sniffle, nodding.  

“I’m here.”  

You pull back, your forehead resting against hers.  

You bump your nose against hers, the two of you chuckling.  

“I’ve missed you so much.” You sniffle, your lips splitting in a massive grin.  

“I love you.” You whisper softly, the woman’s eyes holding a glassy sheen.  

“I love you too.”  

Again, you close the distance between the two of you, Tobin’s lips meeting yours in a long overdue kiss.  

“I’ve missed you too.” She whispers against your lips, burying her face in your neck as she cries.  

“The thought of coming home to you is what kept me going, and now that I’m here I never want to let you go.” You confess, turning your head to kiss Tobin’s temple.  

“Wherever you are is home, you ARE my home, Tobin.” You whisper, Tobin pulling back, tears streaming down her face, tears you’re quick to wipe away from her flawless skin.

“And you’re mine.” She whispers, leaning in to press another long, passionate kiss to your lips before she again whispers.  

“And you’re mine.”

[guqin-and-flute]

Episode 73: Koala Chlamydia Is A Problem [My Brothers, My Sister and Me Excerpt]

[MBMSAM AU] [First Installment] [Podfics!] [Ao3 Link]

[COVER ART BY THE FANTASTIC LITTLESMARTART]

Jin Zixuan: Do we want another question?

Qin Su: Sure, yeah, got one right here. 'When I was younger, I was really skinny and weak'--hey! Hey, now, negative body talk, much! That's super judgmental of yourself!

Mo Xuanyu: And of us people who are skinny and weak right now! [teasing] Right, Yao-gege?

Meng Yao: [calmly] I'm not affiliated with you.

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [cackles]

Qin Su: 'When I was a kid, I was really skinny and weak, so I made it my mission to get as jacked as possible so people would take me seriously. I put in a lot of hard work, changed my exercise routine and diet and it worked. But now, as an adult I'm a 6 foot 7 dude--'

Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] 6 foot 7 ?

Qin Su: Just a mountain of a man. '--6 foot 7 dude with serious muscle mass--'

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [sotto voce] Good God .

Qin Su: '-- and a pretty intense resting face. I routinely make children cry just by existing and everyone shoots me nervous looks in the grocery store. It gets to me sometimes. I’m not a bad guy! I just look scary. What are some ways that I can make myself less intimidating?’

Mo Xuanyu: Huh.

Qin Su: I mean, let’s see...puppies are unintimidating. Can you devise a system where you carry a few around with you at all times? Maybe in some saddle bags, everywhere you go?

Mo Xuanyu: The movies, the gym, on dates… .

Jin Zixuan: Sure, until they start pissing down your legs. Then you’re not just unintimidating, you’re the guy no one wants to stand next to at the bus stop.

Meng Yao: I mean, it still does the job, doesn’t it?

Mo Xuanyu: You could get a butterfly tattoo, like, directly on your forehead.

Meng Yao: Okay, please explain to me your thought process on how exactly that would make anyone more approachable.

Qin Su: They still want to be able to navigate human society, A-Yu.

Mo Xuanyu: Ew, why? 

Jin Zixuan: Let’s see...what makes someone approachable….Who is the least intimidating of all of us?

Qin Su: [immediately] You.

Meng Yao: [affirming] Mm.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] What?

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Oh yeah, you’re like...you’re like a poodle. Or a--

Jin Zixuan: [highly offended] Excuse me! I'm the oldest and definitely the tallest one here!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [ill concealed snort]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [pityingly] Oh, da- ge .

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Or a golden retriever.

Qin Su: Please don't tell me you think that being tall translates into you actually being scary. You’re tallest by, like, 3 inches. At most, that’s just part of the equation of being scary.

Meng Yao: And the rest of Zixuan’s equation is just filled with collared polo shirts. Which absolutely tanks the intimidation ratio.

Mo Xuanyu: That doesn't tank yours, though.

Meng Yao: I wear button downs. It’s not the same. [Vaguely disgusted undertone] Collared polos.

Jin Zixuan: Excuse you, polos are weekend wear and there is nothing wrong-- I can be intimidating!

Qin Su: [doubtfully] Ehhhhh…

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [badly stifled snickers]

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: I can! Just because I’ve never had to intimidate you --

Qin Su: Let's just say; citation needed

Mo Xuanyu: Please, jiejie has you beat.

Jin Zixuan: [indignant] Wha--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: He's right, gege; an unopened jar of mayonnaise has you beat. And I'm no unopened jar of mayonnaise. 

Mo Xuanyu: That shit is opened .

Meng Yao: That’s a Tinder profile quote.

Qin Su: What? 'Spicier than mayo?'

Mo Xuanyu: [half singing, half chanting] ‘My mayo brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like-- [normal voice] this is really underwhelming.’

Meng Yao: [musing] ‘Saltier than soy sauce, spicier than mayo….’

Qin Su: Why do we always come back to food? Are our Skype calls haunted by starving Victorian ghost children? Are we possessed?

Mo Xuanyu: [mournful, high pitched, bad British accent] ‘My name is Bartholemew and I’m starving. Please, spare some mayo.’

Meng Yao: It’s your own fault if none of you bother to eat before we record. You all had the schedule.

Mo Xuanyu: [crunches loudly near mic]

Meng Yao: [falsely happy] Hey, thanks! Thank you so much, A-Yu, love the level spike on that one. Editing mouth noises out of our podcast makes my day brighter.

Jin Zixuan: [under his breath] Just...unbelievable….You all….

Qin Su: [smiling] I think we broke him.

Meng Yao: [laughing] Zixuan is limping behind the conversation indignantly, brandishing his cane….

Mo Xuanyu: [sympathetically] Awww.

Jin Zixuan: I--! I am a high powered businessman! I am trained in martial arts and archery and swordsmanship --

Mo Xuanyu: [mouth full] Oh please, gege, you’re a pod caster.

Jin Zixuan: [forcefully] I am a CEO--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [ignoring him] I think Yao-gege is somehow the most and least intimidating out of all of us at the same time, if we're all being completely honest with ourselves and our place in the world.

Mo Xuanyu: Aww, I thought I was at least a contender!

Qin Su: Honey, you're feral. There's a difference.

Mo Xuanyu: What does a kid have to do around here to be intimidating?

Meng Yao: Learn how to chew with your mouth closed, for one.

Jin Zixuan: [indignantly] A-Yao? Are you not going to deny this?

[Brief silence]

Meng Yao: [calmly] I don't think I'm scary.

Qin Su & Mo Xuanyu: [instant uproarious laughter]

Jin Zixuan: Oh, come on! He's like...a little koala bear or something! How is that scary!

Meng Yao: [offended] Excuse me--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [still laughing] I’m gonna pee --

Meng Yao: -- koalas have smooth brains and eat poisonous leaves all day. Are you calling me a poisonous idiot bear?

Qin Su: [wheezes] Only in private.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughter trailing off] Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t all koalas have chlamydia or something?

Qin Su: [renewed laughter]

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [startled laugh] What?

Mo Xuanyu: Chlamydia! I think that I read--!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god, I think I’ve actually heard that. The plague, the bubonic plague, isn’t it? Or that--Some sort of--that disease people used to get where bits of you fall off?

Qin Su: Beheadings?

Meng Yao: [voice strangled from laughter] Yes, A-Su, that ancient disease the French Revolution that all koalas have--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [snickering]

Mo Xuanyu: [loud and close to mic] LEPROSY .

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Ow--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Holy shit--

Mo Xuanyu: It’s leprosy and you’re thinking of armadillos, da-ge. 

Jin Zixuan: [muttering] Aren’t we all….

Qin Su: [solemnly]  Armadillos and guillotines. Every damn minute of every damn day.

Mo Xuanyu: And I googled it, I’m right; koala chlamydia is a problem.

Meng Yao: And we’ve just found the title of this episode.

Qin Su: If most koalas have chlamydia, I feel like they have other problems they have to deal with.

Mo Xuanyu: Those pesky, promiscuous koalas!

Qin Su: Get them some damn sex ed! Use those eucalyptus leaves for protection!

Meng Yao: [pleasantly] That’s just about the worst thing I’ve heard all day.

Mo Xuanyu: Eugh, that menthol, though. Like Vicks for your dicks!

Meng Yao: I hate it.

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: [pained] PSA: don’t do that. Ever.

Qin Su: The voice of experience?

Jin Zixuan: I don’t think you actually want an answer to that, meimei.

Meng Yao: You people make me hate learning and also knowing things.

Mo Xuanyu: Also I've been looking it up and mountain lions are the ones that can have the bubonic plague.

Meng Yao: Choose your fighter; chlamydia ridden koala, leprosy ridden armadillo, or mountain lion with the Black Death.

Qin Su: Well, at least the mountain lion could inflict some damage. Use it like a poison delivery system, like an anthrax letter to secretly infect people.

Meng Yao: [patient teacher tone] ‘A mountain lion is to an anthrax letter, like a koala is to a…?’

Qin Su: [mock frustration] Oh, man, I know this one….

Mo Xuanyu: 'I can't come into school today, I got attacked by a mountain lion.'

Qin Su: [acting concerned] 'Oh my God, are you okay? Are you gonna have scars?'

Mo Xuanyu: 'Worse. The Plague .'

Jin Zixuan:  Okay, glad we got our animal infections all sorted out--back to what we were talking about. So, riddle me this--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [delighted, Riddlemancer voice] Rrrriddle Me Piss, kids--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao & Qin Su: NO!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god --

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] I don't actually have anything today--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: A blessing .

Mo Xuanyu: --but I'll get you next time.

Jin Zixuan: No, I need to know, genuinely, this is not a bit-- why do you think A-Yao scarier than me?

Qin Su: I mean, what's not scary about a smooth brained bear full of toxins and chlamydia?

Meng Yao: [disgruntled] Uh huh.

Mo Xuanyu: Technically, they’re not bears, they're marsupials! And I think Yao-gege is more of an armadillo--hard on the outside--

[slight crosstalk] Qin Su: --And full of leprosy on the inside. 

Meng Yao: [further from mic, keyboard tapping] 'And to Mo Xuanyu...and Qin Su...I leave... absolutely nothing, except...this bag of dog shit and...spiders…..'

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Awww, A-Yu, we're being written out of his will again!

Jin Zixuan: Listeners, am I wrong? Am I crazy? He’s the size of a toddler--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still away from mic, keyboard tapping] ‘And to Jin Zixuan...I leave--’

Jin Zixuan: He looks like a sugar glider baby that got turned into a human man--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘This box...of useless...tetanus filled screws….’

Qin Su: Da-ge--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘--that i...encourage him to use…--’

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [snickering]

Meng Yao: ‘As acupuncture needles.’ There. Sent to the notary. Now, what were we talking about, again?

Qin Su: Da-ge, all those things might be true--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [flatly] Wow.

Qin Su: But here’s a test. What would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Jin Zixuan: [immediate, sounding businesslike and slightly aggressive] I would contact their parents and set up a meeting with the school officials and make it very clear that they are never to do that again.

Qin Su: [grinning] Okay. Yao-gege, what would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Meng Yao: [calmly] Absolutely nothing you could prove in a court of law.

Mo Xuanyu: [bursts out laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: I mean--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Uhhhh--

Qin Su: You see? Also-- [quick sing-song voice] 🎵 This is a joke, for legal reasons, this is a joke 🎵 [normal voice] He’s got that--that--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [lingering laughter] Yeah, it's that menace. Da-ge, you’re like--you’re like if a duckling--okay, you remember when I brought you to Hot Topic? You were like a duckling at a Death Metal concert.

Jin Zixuan: [defensively] The music was so loud--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [pityingly] Oh, Zixuan.

Qin Su: You're like if a golf course got turned into a human. 

Meng Yao You're what would happen if you gave mac and cheese a social security card and keys to a lamborghini.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Okay.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] You're the lightly salted almonds of people. 

Qin Su: You're like a wholesome Hallmark movie fucked the concept of the suburbs.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Sure. Sure.

Meng Yao: You emanate the peril of a box of lethargic kittens.

Jin Zixuan: Wow. My own family. This is coming from the physical manifestation of a My Chemical Romance song--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [smug] You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan: -- and the woman who cries at the Land Before Time every time she watches it. I think this is a case of glass houses, here. Let ye who are intimidating... 

Qin Su: Oh, so we’re not roasting Yao-gege back?

Meng Yao: Not sure how me being compared to a STD riddled marsupial for about 5 minutes straight escaped your notice, A-Su, but alright. 

Jin Zixuan: I feel that you are all being...heinously short sighted, here. Are you seriously trying to tell me that A-Yu is scarier than me, a full grown man?

Meng Yao: I would certainly be more warranted in my concern about him stabbing me than I would about you.

Mo Xuanyu: Oh my God, gege, that was like 5 years ago and I already said I was sorry--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [loudly] What--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Did we actually help this person? I mean--

Mo Xuanyu: We always help, jiejie.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Hold on--

Qin Su: We learned a lot about exactly how disturbing the animal kingdom is, but….

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: No, go back--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: Dress like a middle aged accountant, share minion memes on Facebook, and buy your son a puppy so you have an excuse to talk to the dog and not people. There you go. Done.

Jin Zixuan: No, rewind--Xuanyu, you stabbed our brother? 

[brief silence]

Qin Su: [brightly] Well, that's going to do it for us today, folks--!

Jin Zixuan: A-Yu!

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: It was only a little!

Jin Zixuan: How can you stab someone a little ?! 

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Thank you so much for listening in this week--

Jin Zixuan: With what ? Why?!

Mo Xuanyu: It honestly wasn’t that bad, he made it sound like--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: That's not an answer --

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [begins laughing]

Jin Zixuan: A-Yao--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still laughing]

Qin Su: [brightly]  We hope you enjoyed our enlightening romp, here! We want to thank Sister Sledge for the use of the song We Are Family. A-Yu, how about that last Yahoo?

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [farther from mic, clearly grinning] Ohhh, boy. 

Mo Xuanyu: Okay, okay--anonymous Yahoo Answers user asks….[exaggerated, desperate voice] ‘I can’t afford a freezer. Where do I put my deer meat?’

[Outro music begins quietly]

Qin Su: [laughs] I’m Qin Su.

Jin Zixuan: [sighs, disgruntled] I’m Jin Zixuan.

Meng Yao: [grinning] I’m Meng Yao.

Mo Xuanyu: [sheepish] I’m Mo Xuanyu.

Qin Su: And this has been My Brothers, My Sister, And Me! Thank you to everyone, see you next week and remember; send your trash dad straight to jail!

[archies-litterbox]

of poison, forest floors, and terrified wizards

Summary: Out all alone on what was meant to be a simple errand, collecting herbs for Merlin, Douxie is downed when some pickpocket throws a fistful of black powder in his face - a magic surpressant and poison to wizards, he comes to find out the hard way. Unable to move or use his magic, as attempts to do both cause nothing but agony, the moppet has no choice but to rely on the slim hope of someone finding him before the poison overtakes him.

A/N: This is my first toa fic! I’ve spent the past year mostly just doing fic for witcher, so this is a nice change of pace :) I had fun with this! I thought about what would happen if there was some sort of substance in TOA that acted as a poison/magic surpressant to wizards... and ofc it turned into douxie whump (but it’s moppet!douxie which is even more painful :( ). Enjoyyy!

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning/Sickness, Temporary Paralysis, blood mention (but no bleeding)]

---

All Douxie had been sent out to do was collect some herbs for Merlin. It wasn’t even in the uncertain ground like the Wild Wood, but a patch of forest he’d been sent to fetch ingredients from countless times. It should have been a simple enough task for the moppet, which is why he hadn’t woken Archie from his afternoon nap - which he was taking on Douxie’s bed - to have his familiar accompany him. And truly, the task itself was simple; it didn’t take Douxie very long at all to go into the woods and find a patch of the plants Merlin told him to fetch - something about a potion ingredient, the apprentice vaguely recollected.

Indeed, he found it without any trouble, but when he felt a figure speed past his back and steal away the little pouch of herbs he’d collected before speeding off into the woods, that was when the trouble started.

The rational part of him (which said exactly what he’d reckoned Archie would be telling him right now) told him just to pick more, but it was overshadowed by how downright insulting this woodland pickpocket was! Before he’d been taken in by Merlin, conning and using slight-of-hand to his advantage was one of his only means of survival, so to not only be stolen from, but in a way so lacking in cunning? The audacity!

It was the principal of the matter that sent him running after the thief, darting this way and that until he was lost in the thick of the woods, focused only on tailing the pickpocket.

“Hey! Stop!” Douxie panted, “You’re stealing from a master wizard!”

That didn’t seem to entice the thief to stop.

“Well… his apprentice, anyway!” he added for reasons unsure to even himself. Maybe honesty would help?

Well, thanks to his trusty, gangly legs, he caught up to the thief and got close enough to grab their wrist, and he thought it would be smooth sailing after that.

Yeah! Alright! I’ll just get my herbs back and deal with this thief and -

The thief turned around and threw a handful of black powder in his face.

Fuzzbuckets.

Douxie squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he felt them sting, coughing into his elbow to hack up the charcoal tasting powder that flew into his mouth and nose. That little trick stopped him in his tracks, but he wasn’t deterred. Not mentally. He still wanted to try to catch up… 

...but his legs wouldn’t move.

No matter how badly he wanted - demanded his legs to obey him, they remained tense, frozen in that position of one in front of the other.

What?

One terrifying moment later, they did move. But not into the sprint he wanted to take - no, to do something worse: to buckle underneath him and send him falling onto his side against the forest floor. 

And he couldn’t get up.

No matter how much he willed his body to do it, he couldn’t get up.

It was like when he’d have nightmares and he’d realize he was having a nightmare; it took forcing his body to toss and turn and shift from side to side as much as he could to rouse him back to the realm of the fully conscious.

But he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t rouse himself from this nightmare because he couldn’t push himself up.

Wait.

No.

He couldn’t move.

Nearing complete panic, he internally begged and pleaded to find some sort of mobility, but his limbs grew numb by the second, and wherever he still had feeling, it ached - utterly, reprehensibly ached. Not only that, but it was cold. So, so cold, despite the warm atmosphere of the summer afternoon that hung around him so tauntingly.

He’d never felt more scared in his life. Not even being threatened at swordpoint by Sir Galahad and his men, knowing that he’d be killed for something like a measly alley trick, was as terrifying as this - not even that made his blood run cold (literally, it felt like, as well as figuratively) like this did.

And he was sure that was clear to the thief he’d tried to catch. They stood over him, and he couldn’t see their face from where his head lay on the ground, cheek against the grass, but with his glassy, wide eyes flickering between straining to look at his poisoner - because that’s what this was, a poison -  and darting around wherever they could look without him moving his head - because he couldn’t even do that - as black strands of hair lay loose on his cheek because he couldn’t lift a hand to move them, he was sure looked every bit as terrified as he felt.

The thief laughed. Laughed.

“A master wizard’s apprentice, eh?” they spoke, their voice dripping with mock fascination that made Douxie wish that someone, anyone would come to help him, “And your great master never told you to pick your battles? He must not have, if you felt so inclined as to chase me all through the woods for a plant you could have just picked a little more of. It was right in front of you, after all.”

The realization which dawned on Douxie would have made his blood run cold if it didn’t feel like it already was. They’d pickpocketed him because they counted on him pursuing them, even to the point of ending up in the thick of the woods, far away from where Merlin or Archie expected him to be - far away from where they’d know to look for him.

Douxie finally tried to shout for help, but his throat was just as tense - as frozen as the rest of his muscles, and his jaw was too tight to open as much as he’d need to scream. All he could do was gasp and force shuddering breaths in and out of his lungs, which was still a trying ordeal - too trying for something like breathing to have been.

“Trying to scream? Really?” the poisoner-thief asked as if it was an absurd thing to do in the moppet’s position (which it wasn’t), “Next thing you know, you’ll try mustering a spell.”

Against his better judgement, for trying a spell couldn’t have been a good idea if his own assailant was suggesting it, he tried to force a little magic to his fingertips.

It burned. Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, it burned. His hand hadn’t even hurt this badly after he’d botched a lightning spell and scarred his wrist in the process.

Douxie wheezed at the sensation, and the thief laughed again.

“Oh, this is rich!” they exclaimed, “this has already paralyzed you hand and foot, and you thought some conjuring would help? What do you think this was made to diminish, Apprentice of Ambrosius?

Douxie couldn’t even think of a swear worthy of this (“fuzzbuckets” was too tame), his mind still flooded with fear and his hand still aching from his botched magic attempt. How had they already known he was Merlin’s apprentice? Sure, he’d mentioned being an apprentice to a master wizard, but he wasn’t that specific.

But he wasn’t worried about that as much as what this implied about his magic, and what this - whatever it had been - was doing to it.

“This,” His assailant bent down and held up their fingertips to his face, showing him the black powder on them. “Seeps away your magic. Or poisons it, or diminishes it, or eats away at it - I’m not a poet, and apt synonyms aren’t my strong suit.”

They stood back up all the way, and Douxie wanted to plead, but the words wouldn’t come out. They wouldn’t even form. This - he couldn’t lose his magic. Not on something as measly as an herb collection.

“All of this-”

They gestured to his paralyzed, twitching form.

“Is just a side effect. A byproduct of attacking your magic.”

Douxie tried curling his hand into a fist. Not only were his muscles so weak that he could only curl his fingers for a second in what looked more like a spasm than a conscious movement, but grabbing the wrong end of a knife would have hurt less.

The powder-tosser winced mock-sympathetically.

“Shame, really. I hoped the master wizard you served could be the one to deal with this.”

For a moment, in his agony, he wished he was. Douxie squandered the thought as quickly as it came up, hating himself for conceiving it. He couldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all the wizard who saved him, who plucked him off the streets.

But why couldn’t he save him now?

“Ah, well.” They reached down to Douxie’s face and put a strand of hair behind his ear.

Douxie wanted to cry.

“S’pose you’ll do. It’ll be a kick in the teeth for him anyway, when you don’t come back from your little errand after hours and hours, and by the time they send out a search party…”

The smugness and certainty in their tone made Douxie whimper, the first vocal noise he’d been able to make in all of this, after naught but wheezing and gasping. Where was he going to get dragged off to? The Wild Wood? Were they in league with trolls, hoping to get an edge on King Arthur? Or were they a bandit, hoping to take all his goods off of him (which weren’t much, unless they counted the black cat fur on his vest) and keep him in some rackety shack until a ransom note made its way to Merlin?

(Would he even pay it, considering Douxie’s incompetence?)

“Well, they’ll find you right here, I’m sure, but…”

Douxie could hear them mock-wince again, and their implication was worse than anything he’d assumed in the moments before. He couldn’t hear the rest of their sentence over his own panic that, combined with the poison, made his head swim.

He wasn’t going to be taken anywhere.

He was going to be left here, to - to - to - 

His panic pushed him to try his magic again on impulse alone, and it felt like both his hands were on fire. His throat, as tight as it was, finally let him groan through his teeth.

“An exercise in futility, little wizard.” his attacker taunted, “In fact…”

They took his bracelet - only three fingers wide at this point in his training - right off his wrist, which made him squeak as he tried, tried, tried to shake his head, and threw it into a bush in what was both further assurance of his powerlessness and an insult to injury.

“I would say you should try to get comfortable…” 

They stood up and took a few steps back, leaving the little field of vision Douxie had from where his head lay on the ground.

“...But I suppose that would be another exercise in futility.”

He heard the poisoner-thief run off, their footfalls fading as the pounding of his racing heart, which drummed against his ears in sync with their steps, drowned out the noise until they were out of earshot.

He was alone.

He couldn’t move, some poison was seeping away his magic - his very lifeforce - and tensed his body up so rigidly that he couldn’t even scream, and he was alone.

If he could’ve, he would have curled up into a ball as small as he could make himself in hopes that the dangers of the woods and the dire circumstances of his situation would pass him by.

If he could’ve, he would have screamed, even though he knew he was far away from the earshot of anyone who might have come looking for him by that patch of herbs where he said he’d go, and he knew that Archie, who could have tracked his scent here, was still sleeping because, in his arrogance, he hadn’t thought to wake him.

If he could’ve, he would have dragged himself to his gauntlet, wherever it had been thrown, because even if it wouldn’t have done anything to get him out of this, at least he wouldn’t have felt so helpless, even though helpless was exactly what he was.

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and feel his tears run down the bridge of his nose as his lips contorted into a grimace, the only two things he could do with his body where the movement itself didn’t outweigh how badly he wanted - needed to do it.

All he could hope for, against hope itself, was that he’d be found here.

Before all that could be found was his body.

---

He wished he could just sleep.

The grassy ground underneath him was soft enough, and his position on his side could have been comfortable enough. Maybe it would have helped pass the time until the poison ran its course, whatever that entailed.

But whatever this was, it didn’t even grant him that luxury. Whether it was an effect of the poison or a product of his own adrenaline and terror, Douxie was wide awake.

Not only that, but after what might have been an hour or two (judging by the sunlight’s reflection off the dewey grass), his body would periodically twitch because of the poison. Sometimes his leg would kick out like a dog, or his shoulder would seize up to the point where it touched his ear, or his hand would ball into a fist.

But his poisoned body didn’t care which of his movements were voluntary or otherwise - it stung all the same. Not like the horrific burning that came with his attempts at magic, but a grating, awful ache right down to his bones. The spontaneous twitches never let him even come close to unconsciousness, and maybe that was a good thing - every breath was more or less of a laborious gasp, a conscious effort of his, and if he’d lost consciousness and stopped forcing them in and out of his lungs… he didn’t want to imagine it.

He wished his panic would quiet enough for him to get bored laying here - he would have preferred it to this, and it would have made sense, considering that he was stuck staring at the same blades of grass and patch of trees that he’d been staring at for the past hour.

And they weren’t even particularly interesting trees or blades of grass, not that they would have distracted him very well if they were.

He wondered if anyone had started looking for him by now. Maybe Merlin was growing impatient without the ingredients he asked for, and maybe Morgana had started to wonder why “Little Douxie” hadn’t come back to the castle.

He wondered if Archie had woken up from his nap and noticed Douxie’s absence yet. If anyone could insist that someone go out and search for him, it would be his familiar. He didn’t want to delude himself by thinking it would help though.

He wondered the importance of those herbs he was collecting before. Were they really that important to whatever Merlin had been working on? Were they worth chasing that thief down? Were they worth all of this?

He was pulled from his thoughts when a shadow cast over the grass he’d been staring at - the shadow of a creature flying overhead and hovering above him.

If he could’ve curled into himself, just to look as small as possible, he would have. What if it was a vulture, waiting to scavenge him? What if it was a monster, or a winged troll, here to carry him off to some trollish nest in the Wild Wood? None of the thoughts that came to mind were soothing by any means. As the creature swooped down, all Douxie could do was squeeze his eyes shut and hope he wouldn’t be harmed any further.

Even when the figure landed in front of him and stepped closer and closer, he didn’t look at it. It wasn’t until he could feel it’s breath on his face, one of the only sensations of the past few hours that didn’t hurt, that he opened his eyes.

A face of black fur greeted him.

And yellow eyes.

And a round pair of glasses.

Archie!

He couldn’t even say the word, but a sob escaped his throat - a sob of relief? A sob of terror that this might have been the start of an onslaught of hallucinations, the first of which being a sign of rescue? He wasn’t sure. Either way, all he wanted to do was reach up and pet the cat-dragon familiar, or hug him and not let go, but he couldn’t. His arm felt like it weighed half a ton, just like the rest of his limbs.

So, he sobbed. It was all he could do.

“Douxie!” Archie cried.

Merlin’s apprentice could hear the worry in his voice as he stepped back a few paces, his ears back and his wings to his side. Of course, he’d shifted into his dragon form - he must have been able to track Douxie’s scent like that. But Douxie hated the thought of his familiar being in danger because he’d flown here. He was already suspicious enough as a black cat, since they carried the notion of being bad omens. What if he’d gotten taken down? He wasn’t worth that!

Douxie was too relieved - yes, he chose relief, not terror, because that’s all he could afford - to think about all of that though.

“Douxie, I’ve been looking for you! What’s happened to you?” Archie asked, “Merlin expected you back hours ago!”

The first thing that came to mind, despite everything, was an apology for his absence - an apology he couldn’t even say. He couldn’t even say what happened to him, not like -

A spasm cut off from his speeding, scrambled thoughts - a large one in his left arm (his right was still mostly underneath him) that reached all the way from his fingertips to his shoulderblade, forcing his hand to ball into a fist, his arm to fold so tightly that his fist touched his shoulder, and his shoulder to tighten so much that his shoulder pressed to his ear.

The sound of agony ripped from his throat was the closest to a scream he’d gotten yet.

Archie looked horrified, and Douxie could only imagine what the sight of him was like - black strands loose from his bun strewn over his face, his eyes puffy and tear-ringed, his lips contorted in a pained grimace. He imagined he looked as pitiful and helpless as he felt.

(In fact, he didn’t have to imagine it. He could faintly see his reflection in the lenses of Archie’s glasses, and he was right in what he pictured, save for the addition of smudges and speckles of that powder still on his face, the black splotches of dust contrasting his color-drained skin, pale as death.)

His arm relaxed again after a few agonizing moments, letting his hand fall in front of his face and leaving a throbbing ache down to his bones, and Douxie tried to collect himself. He had to tell Archie what was wrong. He had to try. If Archie knew, he could fix it. He could get Merlin to fix it. Right? Right.

“P-” he started, trying his absolute best to form words despite the constriction in his throat and lungs that barely let him breathe at all, “puh- poi-”

His own wheezing cough cut him off.

“Poison?” Archie asked, getting it right much to the little relief that Douxie could manage. He nodded - at least, as close to the motion as he could accomplish - and tried to hum a “mhm” of affirmation, since trying to talk hadn’t exactly worked. Far from it.

Archie stepped forward and sniffed his face. He immediately recoiled, his big eyes widening, and Douxie was proven wrong for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

“Oh, dear.” His eyes glanced to what must have been a few more clumps and speckles of dust on the ground, “Ohhh, not good. Not good at all.”

No. Archie couldn’t be scared. If Archie was scared for him, then this was so, so much worse than he thought. How could it possibly be worse?

Douxie squeaked out a whimper in fear, and Archie’s attention snapped back to him (as if it could have been anywhere else).

“Douxie, don’t worry.” he said, “You’ll be alright.”

Archie was never a good liar, much to Douxie’s dismay. If Archie was going to hide the truth to soothe him, he at least would’ve liked it to work. His immediately telling Douxie not to worry had the opposite effect of what was intended; it showed him his worry - his terror - was entirely warranted, which was the exact thing he didn’t want to know. Even if all he said was “You’ll be alright.”, the fear that seemed to bristle through his fur was indication enough of the contrary.

Archie’s eyebrows, indicated by the grey patches in the fur above his eyes, upturned as if in dread.

“...But I need to go.”

NO!

If Douxie could have screamed the word and reached out to hold Archie, he would have done it right at that moment, but all he could do was whine like a kicked puppy, his eyebrows raising as his head shook - an unconscious movement, minute despite his desperation.

“Douxie, Douxie, listen.” Archie said, softening his voice, “I can’t carry you back to the castle. I wouldn't be able to fly carrying you anyway, but especially not with your-”

Archie got cut off by another one of Douxie’s spasms - this one made his left leg curl up so tight that his thigh touched his torso, causing the apprentice to nearly involuntarily hit Archie with his knee, which the cat-dragon barely dodged.

“-that." Archie said, "Not with that.”

Douxie saw the sense in that, despite his panic. He did, he did, he did.

But - 

He sobbed again.

-But he didn’t want to be alone.

Sweet heart of Avalon, he didn’t want to be alone. 

The worst of his pain and terror wasn’t from the paralysis, or the aching, or the random twitches, or the burning that came from trying to use his magic, or even the tightness in his throat and lungs that robbed him of speaking or even screaming; it came from being alone in this - from wondering if anyone would come for him, or find his body; it came from knowing that there was nothing he could do but lay there, at the mercy of nature, the poison wracking his body with every beat of his heart, and the determination (or lack thereof) of someone else to find him.

And when he opened his eyes to find Archie there, all of that went away - all of that fear that told him he’d die alone here. He didn’t want it to come back. He would’ve rather the poison take him right now.

“I just need to go back to the castle and bring Merlin here. He’ll know what to do.”

Archie put his paw in Douxie’s limp, open palm. All Douxie wanted to do was hold it, and he so desperately hoped the next twitch would be in his hand so he could.

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

But what if it was too long, even if he hurried?

What if Merlin was too late, even if he hurried?

What if it took too long to convince his master to come here? Would the fact that he’d been poisoned and needed help be enough, or would Merlin refuse because it served Douxie right for his insolence?

(No, no, he wouldn’t do that. Merlin said that mastery over magic was mastery over life, and he had to learn how to live. He couldn’t learn to live if he died here in the woods.)

What if… 

What if this killed him before Archie came back?

...No.

It wasn’t the same this time. Douxie wasn’t lost here, hoping against hope that someone would find him. This was hope - someone knew where he was, and help would come. He could handle a little bit more fear for that hope, he knew.

So, fighting the grating, awful ache in his bones, Douxie closed his hand around Archie’s paw and put on as brave a face he found himself able to muster, nodding as much as he could while causing as little pain to himself as possible.

He didn’t trust much in this - not even his own body to keep fighting the poison - but he trusted Archie, and he trusted his promise.

His familiar gently pulled his paw away before slipping it under the side of Douxie’s head, lifting it a little off the ground. The little apprentice was confused for a moment, until Archie reached behind Douxie’s head with his mouth. He could hear the sounds of the woods stifle as fabric came over his ears, warding off the now-coolness of the woodsy air around his head as Archie pulled the hood of his vest over his head and gingerly laid it back down.

Ah, he got it now - it was a little comfort, a little shelter from the world.

And of course he took it, hoping his eyes conveyed his gratitude.

He kept up his brave front as Archie turned away from him, something Douxie could tell he’d done reluctantly, and flew off. It wasn’t until he couldn’t see his familiar anymore - until the sight of the cat-dragon vanished behind the treetops - that he let it fall and shatter.

He just had to keep waiting. That’s all he had to do - wait and trust Archie to come back with Merlin. He knew that.

But he could still feel new tears come down his face.

---

Douxie wished he could see the sunset from where he lay. It would have been beautiful, he knew.

The spasms subsided a little while after Archie flew back, leaving Douxie limp on the ground - still unable to move without hurting himself or try to use his magic without thrusting himself into agony - with a lingering pins-and-needles sensation in his hands and feet that felt like it was crawling up from his ankles and wrists.

(Honestly, Douxie still wasn’t sure if the spasms had truly subsided for good, or if this was just a rather long interval between them. He hoped it was the former. The spasms never hurt any less as they went on, and he was so, so tired of the pain.)

Archie still hadn’t come back with Merlin yet, obviously, and at this point, it seemed like Douxie was fighting off his doubt more than the poison. At least he knew what the poison was doing to him - he could feel it every waking moment. But Archie… Douxie didn’t know what had happened to him, and he wouldn’t unless he came back.

(No, until he came back. Douxie had to keep that certainty alive in his mind.)

But how was he supposed to know that his familiar hadn’t taken a tumble? That he hadn’t been brought down by some witch hunter’s net? What if Merlin was being stubborn about coming for him? What if he’d been busy in another row with King Arthur?

...Indeed, he would have loved to see the sunset - to at least try to let it distract him from the tornado of worst case scenarios in his mind.

But he couldn’t.

For a bit, he tried distracting himself by thinking about how Merlin might’ve reacted to him being in danger - to hearing that he’d been poisoned. He sort of liked imagining how scared he’d be, for he preferred fear to indifference. The mental image of his master dropping whatever book he’d been flipping through and rushing to follow Archie… it was a comforting one, as strange as it might sound. That fear meant he mattered.

But Douxie soon grew tired even of that. He hoped he might’ve ran into a patch frequented by fireflies. Those would at least come low enough to dip into his line of sight, and they were always so beautiful, like stars visiting earth for a night before going back to the sky…

Douxie grew cold again at some point. Not just cold, but damp. Since it hadn’t started raining, fortunately, he rightly assumed that it was sweat. Perhaps he was finally sweating this out, like a fever, but that was too good, too fortunate to figure. This was another progression of the poison, he was sure. Just like…

Douxie noticed something in his left hand that lay in front of his face, something wrong…

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

His veins were black. 

Hoping, begging, praying to be wrong, he pushed through that dreadful ache in his arm so he could pull it closer, but it only confirmed his suspicions - his dread - his terrors.

The veins in his wrist, in the creases of his knuckles - they weren’t deep blue anymore, just barely visible underneath his skin, but as black as that powder that got blown in his face. Ink could be coursing through them right now, and he’d have been none the wiser.

In that moment, Douxie was proven wrong once again for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

He gasped as much as his throat and lungs let him, and he didn’t stop gasping. But then his chest -

No no NO!

-his chest started to seize up.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest with every breath, forcing each one in and out like a wheeze, but it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t tell if it was from poison or panic, but it wouldn’t go away. He’d even started coughing, which was inevitable, but the black splotch that splattered into his hand terrified him all the more.

This was it. He was going to die here. He was going to succumb to this. He’d never come back to the castle - to Archie, to Morgana, to Merlin - from a trivial herb picking. Archie would come back here, but all he’d find was - was - was -

“HISIRDOUX!”

Douxie burst into tears.

He could recognize the voice of his master - his father - anywhere, but he was so, so scared that it was a hallucination. The fear in his voice already sounded so foreign, coming from the great and powerful Merlin Ambrosius, and if the sound of his voice and his footsteps coming near him came only from his desperate imagination, then he’d - he’d -

A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Finally, he could look up at the sky, aglow with sunset, but his glassy eyes only saw Merlin kneeling down at his side, and Archie flying above him.

The terror in Merlin’s eyes was the exact opposite of comforting, but Douxie didn’t get to see it for long before Merlin conjured a damp cloth and wiped off his face what had to have been the rest of that poisonous powder. He hadn’t realized how flushed he’d been until that moment, when that rag felt so cold against his cheeks.

Merlin finished wiping off Douxie’s face and made the cloth disappear. Douxie missed the coolness on his face. He wanted it back.

“Hisirdoux, say something!” he demanded. But Douxie couldn’t - didn’t Merlin think he would’ve already been screaming his lungs out if he could?

“D-” he choked, “Da-”

He hacked up another throatful of black phlegm, whimpering as the violence of his cough made his torso curl up. Merlin dodged the cough, but put an arm under Douxie’s back before he could fall back.

An apology lay at the back of his throat - one he didn’t know the reason for, even if he could’ve said it.

Merlin brought his other arm behind Douxie’s knees and lifted him like he weighed nothing (and he probably didn’t weigh much to Merlin, being the gangly moppet he was). The edges of the plating of the master wizard’s armor dug against him uncomfortably, but it was the least discomforting thing about this, overshadowed near-completely by the comfort that came just by being held. But he was still scared - if more of that powder was on him, and Merlin touched it by holding him, then -

He stifled a cough, and his leg kicked out unconsciously like a thumping rabbit’s foot. He didn’t realize how badly he’d been tremoring until it was contrasted with the steadiness of Merlin holding him.

Yes… steadiness, safety - two things he’d wanted to cling to more than anything since all this had started. And now, he had them. He had his familiar, and he had his father.

His head, still covered with the hood of his vest, lolled back uncomfortably without any support, but he felt something soft push against the back of it- it was actually Archie, though Douxie couldn’t see it - until the side of his head lay against one of the shoulderpieces of Merlin’s armor, cushioned by the cloth of his hood.

He sighed as much as his tightened chest would allow.

He was so scared.

Douxie was still so, so terrified that Merlin couldn’t save him after all; that he’d die tonight; that he’d never use his magic again; that he’d never get to become a master wizard or get his own staff to wield; that he’d never again get to go back down to the marketplace and talk to that pretty girl who frequented the shops.

(What was her name? Zelda? Zona? Zola? Zo-)

He felt something warm settle on his abdomen - Archie had turned back into a cat and curled up on his tummy, purring as he nestled where Douxie’s legs curled.

At least, despite everything else he feared, he didn’t have to be terrified of being alone anymore.

---

Douxie wasn’t sure if Merlin used a portal, or the relief of being found by his master had finally let him lull out of consciousness for the length of the time it took to be carried back, but the next thing he knew, he was in Merlin’s study. Despite the fluttering of his eyelids, he could recognize the shelves, the desk, and the stained glass window letting in the last light of day.

Home.

He was home.

No matter what happened next, he was home.

“Douxie!” He could hear Morgana’s voice shouting his name in worry, followed immediately by her fast-approaching footsteps.

“Mmh…” Douxie whimpered. It wasn’t clear whether or not the noise was just a pained whine or an attempt to try saying her name - not even to Douxie himself. He couldn’t see her very well, but he could tell when she’d come to them, stepping to the side as Merlin walked forward to his desk.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

“Somehow, yes.” Merlin answered. Douxie hated that “somehow” and the fear it brought, but it was just a little more to add to the onslaught of the past hours. He could just add it to the pile, he supposed.

In the middle of the room, Merlin’s big desk was empty, so the wizard laid him down on the surface, having him lay flat on his back with his hands at his sides, his legs straightened out, and his head facing up. Now, he could fully see Morgana, the sorceress he’d come to see as something of a big sister just as he came to see Merlin as a father, looking down at him. Her face was upside-down from where she stood over him, but he could still see her upturned brows and glistening eyes, and the way she clasped her hands close to her chest so they didn’t even touch him. He hated that look of worry on her face. Seeing Morgana - always fearless, always grasping for more from the world than what others had permitted, always steadfast in her ruthless ambition - look so scared for him… 

...It was worse, if such a thing was possible, than when he saw how scared Merlin was for him, and there was so much he wanted to say, but he was still just focused on trying to breathe as deeply as he could.

Archie got off his abdomen and sat next to his head, gently headbutting his temple before putting a paw on his forehead. It was a little comforting, almost enough to distract Douxie from realizing that Merlin wasn’t at his side anymore.

Almost, though. Not enough.

Douxie tried turning his head to the side, but Archie gently kept it still with his paw.

“He’s just finding a spellbook, Douxie.” he assured, immediately knowing what the apprentice was trying to turn his head for, “He’ll be right back.”

Morgana looked down on the little scene and closed her eyes for a moment, as if to quell her tears, before opening them again.

“You shouldn’t have held him.” she warned, turning her head to wherever Merlin stood now, “You know what that can-”

“I’m well aware.” Merlin interrupted from wherever he still was, “And you know I’ve little concern for that.”

Douxie didn’t understand. There was still so little he understood about whatever was doing this to him, and he didn’t know how to ask about it - he couldn’t.

But apparently, his upturned brows and whimpers of confusion were enough to indicate - at least to Archie - how lost he was.

“Douxie, that powder - it’s called Draining Dust.” Archie explained, “It’s a magic suppressant, and… a poison, as you know by now.”

“Witch hunters would put this in shackles.” Morgana said, finally speaking to him, “To nullify wizards’ and witches’ magic on their way to the gallows. Or the stakes.”

“Trace amounts, yes.” Merlin came back into his view, an open spellbook floating near him with a signature green aura around it, “Pinches of it, cast in the metal. It would suppress the wearer’s magic as long as it was on their body, with a few side effects. Fatigue, headaches, nausea…” he started listing as he flipped through the pages.

Douxie remembered the handful of the stuff that had been thrown in his face. That was far from a few pinches. And those side effects he’d started listing - they sounded tame, menial compared to what was happening to him now.

“But direct contact with raw powder…” Archie started. Douxie knew he was hesitant to finish that sentence, and it wasn’t hard to assume why (but it was terrifying).

“It’s deadly.” Morgana said, “Few wizards have ever survived inhaling or digesting it. More sadistic witchfinders have used that to-”

“Morgana!” Merlin snapped, urging her to leave off. But she didn’t.

“He should know!” she snapped back, “It’s already in his bloodstream, old man. It’s killing him, and he deserves to-”

Douxie started crying again at Morgana’s brutal honesty, as if this all weren’t brutal enough. His eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down his temples, but when he opened them again, it was darker, like he was looking through a veil. The sight made him want to cry even harder.

It was in his tears.

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, the poison was in his tears.

It made sense now, why Morgana was so scared to touch him. His own body fluids - his blood, his tears, probably his sweat soon enough - were turning poisonous from this. The only reason Archie was still touching him was probably because he wasn’t a wizard, but a familiar, and this wouldn’t affect him so badly.

(It actually very well could have affected Archie for the worse, but watching Douxie endure this without any comfort would have been worse than any poison.)

“It’s not killing him.” Merlin denied as if he was trying to convince both Morgana and himself, “His death is not certain. If it were, I would have already placed a sleeping spell on him by now.”

Douxie clung to that little hope and tried to watch Merlin scan for the spell he’d been looking for. Merlin had a way to fix this, of course he did; it’s as he said - he would have already put Douxie to sleep to grant him some peace if he didn’t.

Douxie watched his master’s page flipping stall as his eyes scanned over one particular page. His face fell - a minute, near-unnoticeable change in expression, but one that made Douxie’s pounding heart sink.

“Merlin?” Archie asked, “Have you found something?”

Merlin said nothing at first, only taking his place by stepping right to the table’s edge, coming right to Douxie’s side.

“I’ve found a spell to expel the poison and it’s remnants,” he explained, still only scanning the book, “But purging it from his body when it’s progressed this far will be…”

His eyes fell on Douxie’s.

“...quite excruciating.”

But Douxie was already so, so tired.

Not physically - the combined force of the poison and his own adrenaline warded off any chance of fatigue - but in his heart. He was so tired of being scared. Of being in so much pain. He didn’t want to do it - he didn’t think he could…

...But he remembered something Merlin said to him before.

“If there is a universal truth in this world, it is that struggle is the flame which forges one’s soul into steel.”

Well, if there was something tougher than steel, that’s what his soul would become.

Because wizards were strong. Brave. Unrelenting to pain or fear. That’s how Merlin was, that’s how Morgana was, and that’s how he would be.

He put on a brave face - as brave as he could possibly muster in the face of what he’d endure - and nodded. He could do this. He had to do this.

And he would.

The green aura around the spellbook faded as Merlin set it down. Archie lifted his paw from Douxie’s head and stepped back a few paces.

“Morgana, keep him still.” Merlin said, “His thrashing may cause him to injure himself.”

Morgana nodded and brought her hands up, an unsaid apology in her eyes. Seconds later, Douxie felt warm, gentle heat around his wrists and ankles. It didn’t hurt, but it was unrelenting. He didn’t test the bonds, lacking the strength or any actual will to do so. Still under a sort of paralysis, he wasn’t scared of being pinned down, for he knew it was just a precaution; he was just scared of how bad the pain would be in order for restraining him like this to be necessary.

The precaution was far from unwarranted, he came to realize in the coming moments.

Merlin hovered one hand over Douxie’s chest and the other over his abdomen. Douxie watched him say some incantation, but he didn’t catch the words. He was too busy bracing himself for the pain as he saw the green aura of his master’s magic out of the corner of his eye, glowing above his torso.

Before Merlin even got to take a breath after the incantation, the pain started.

And no amount of bracing could have prepared Douxie enough.

The sudden agony in his torso ripped the breath from his lungs. He thought - hoped it would start small and get worse and worse, like a simmer that got hotter and hotter, but instead it was like a pot of scalding water got poured over his chest. No, even that would have hurt less. This… it started at the surface, but it bled deeper and deeper under his skin, and then -

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

-then it started to spread.

In moments, as if searing agony itself coursed through his veins, there was nowhere on his body that didn’t burn, not even his fingertips or the tip of his pinky toes. If he could feel it, it hurt, and it hurt unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

As the agony overrode his paralysis, he thrashed against Morgana’s magic that kept his wrists and ankles in place, arching his back one moment and curling forward the next.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to try to open his eyes. It hurt to keep them squeezed shut. It hurt to try to hear the voices of those around him - Morgana trying to tell him to be strong, Archie trying to soothe him, Merlin repeating the incantation. It hurt even to think - the pain, blinding and deafening, flooded out all other thoughts.

For a moment, like a fire burning so hot it feels cold for a fleeting beat, he stopped feeling the searing, searing agony.

But the moment was too, too fleeting before it wracked him again.

Finally, finally, he screamed.

It was a raw, shrill, agonized thing. He felt it come up from the base of his throat, and when Douxie realized, through his hysteria, that he was actually screaming, not wheezing or whimpering or anything he’d had to settle for tonight, he couldn’t stop. He screamed for all the torture of the day, all the fear of being alone, all the panic and terror and despair that he couldn’t let out in the woods, tense and spasming and paralyzed. 

All the screams that couldn’t come out before, when his throat was so tight that it barely let him breathe, came out right now, bursting at the seams of his pain-delirious mind.

He didn’t stop screaming until he finally felt Merlin’s magic let off.

Even then, his screams settled only into groans and wails until the burning across his body finally cooled; until the pain weakened from a searing sensation all over him, like the most brazen of fires, to a low ache, like the embers of a dying camp flame.

Once he fully stilled, which took a few more moments, Morgana’s magic came off his wrists and ankles.

Finally, he came back to his senses and see Merlin, Morgana, and Archie still around him. Archie looked relieved and nuzzled the side of Douxie’s head. Morgana smiled a shaky, hesitant smile - still so foreign to see from her.

And Merlin…

Well, he seemed as difficult to read as usual, but at least he no longer had the expression on his face of a man watching his apprentice die. Traces of relief lay there, and Douxie gladly took them.

So… was it over?

Douxie groaned and lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt to do anymore - well, it did, but more like a soreness left in the wake of heavy lifting, a residue of what happened than a symptom of it. He brought it up to his face so he could see his wrist.

His veins were blue again.

Sighing, he let his hand fall on his face and wiped away some tears - lifting it to see they were purely clear, like before - before letting it slide off his cheek and fall limp next to his head.

“Master…” his voice was so little, so hoarse, “‘s it gone?”

“Every bit, Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, putting his hand on Douxie’s shoulder, “It's over.”

He sounded weary. Douxie hoped that spell didn't take too much from him.

“Mm… my magic… 's it gone too?”

Merlin’s eyes said he wasn’t sure himself.

Douxie sought to answer the question on his own and willed forth his magic. He felt his fingertips thrum with the life of his sorcery. Lifting his hand again, he saw little specks of light, blue and true. It didn’t burn anymore, but it felt warm and gentle, like a heartbeat. His heartbeat. Exactly as it always felt.

He sighed. Not shaky, not fighting to keep his breathing level - a tired, relieved sigh. Despite how sore even the muscles in his face felt, he smiled a little smile.

“Thank you…” he said, “If you all hadn’t… I’d be-”

Merlin moved his hand from Douxie’s shoulder to his forehead.

“Don’t pay that scenario any mind, Hisirdoux.” Merlin urged, “You’ve survived, and although you and your magic have been weakened, both will fully recover.”

Douxie’s little smile fell.

“Wha… what about the poison? It couldn’t just be gone.”

“That it can.” Merlin assured, taking his hand off Douxie’s head, “As brutal as it is to the wizard affected, an unaffected wizard with strong magic can eradicate it from their body and return it to it’s untarnished condition.”

...Well, that was that, and Douxie wouldn’t question it. Besides, he remembered something.

“Mmmy bracelet… I lost it. That - they took it off. It’s in a bush out there.”

“I can see that. That’s alright.” Merlin said, “It can be retrieved.”

“And… and I'm sorry.” He said to Merlin’s subtle but obvious surprise, indicated by a little raise in his eyebrows.

“What for?”

“I… the herbs.” he answered, “I couldn’t bring them back. They got stolen.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin said, “They aren’t a rarity, you know.”

...Douxie sniffled.

“That… they only snatched those plants so I’d follow them deeper into the woods. So I’d get lost. So they could throw that dust in my face and - and leave me there, knowing I’d gone further into the forest than… than anyone would’ve looked, and I wouldn’t be found.” 

“But you were found, Douxie.” Archie said, “They weren’t counting on you having a dragon that could track scents for a familiar.”

Douxie’s voice started to break.

“I should have left it alone - I knew I should have left it alone. There was more right there, I should’ve-”

“Hisirdoux, cease this.” Merlin said in a tone that left no room for insistence, “You must grant yourself some relief in you and your magic’s survival. I won’t have you fret over something as menial as a handful of herbs, so-”

“But Master-”

“-Don’t “But Master” me.”

Douxie sighed. That statement didn’t leave any room for argument. It never did.

Finally, a little normalcy tonight.

Morgana put her hands to the sides of Douxie’s head. After she’d been so scared to touch him this whole time, the feeling of her fingers against his temples, brushing his hair away from his face, was a final, true assurance that the poison had been well and truly purged.

“Sleep, Little Douxie.” she soothed, “I promise you’ll wake.”

He couldn’t tell if she cast a sleep spell in that moment, or if this was from his own fatigue, but he obeyed without hesitance as he was finally lulled away from the realm of the conscious and fell into slumber.

---

Merlin looked down at the boy lying asleep on his desk, the color slowly trickling back into his face as his chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths. 

“He’s a brave little moppet.” Morgana said as she kept her fingers against the sides of his head, her voice hushed despite the fact that the boy’s exhaustion had lulled him into a deep slumber, and he’d sleep like a stone until morning no matter what.

“...No, he’s not.” Merlin denied, “Not for this.”

Morgana snapped her head up.

“He’s just gone through more torment from that powder in one day than either of us have in all our lives!” Morgana she contested, “Not even you have endured effects that brutal from Draining Dust.”

“To be brave requires a choice - being faced with the ultimatum to either run and give up, or face your fight.” Merlin said, too proverbial and righteous-sounding as he stood over Douxie, “A choice was the exact thing he didn’t have in this. Perhaps if he’d been withholding something from that assailant, even with the threat of this, then it might be different. But as it is, even if he’d wanted to succumb to this before Archie had found him, his adrenaline hadn’t let him.”

“Maybe so,” Archie started, “but when I found him there in the forest, and I told him I’d have to come back with help, he was terrified of being left alone again. I could tell. But he put on as brave a face he could have. He chose that for himself, at least.”

“He did the same thing moments ago, when you told him how much that spell would hurt.” Morgana added, “He may not have had a choice in enduring this, but he did choose to steel his nerves when faced with every reason not to, and there’s bravery in that, old man.” She crossed her arms. “Even you have to admit that.”

Merlin almost found it endearing, seeing them both try to defend his apprentice’s honor when they felt it threatened, and maybe he could’ve seen the bravery they saw, if he’d been looking at anyone else.

But as he looked down at Hisirdoux… that’s all he saw. Hisirdoux. His apprentice. His son. His gangly little moppet who tended to cause more messes than he cleaned up, but smiled like the embodiment of joy itself.

If daylight decided to make itself corporeal and walk among humans for a while, Merlin wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it took the form of Hisirdoux Casperan.

So, the sorcerer didn’t see bravery when he found Hisirdoux writhing and gasping on the ground in those woods, he didn’t feel bravery when the boy trembled in his arms, and he most certainly didn’t hear bravery when the boy wailed and screamed his lungs out as that poison was taken out of him, black tears streaming down his face until they became clear again.

No, if Douxie had been brave, pride in that laid nowhere in Merlin’s mind. 

After all, when fear for his son’s life flooded his mind, and hatred for whoever did this to him flooded out that fear, where, pray tell, could pride reside?

Morgana kept looking down at Douxie as he slept.

“How could you risk that?” she asked Merlin.

“Risk what, Morgana?” he asked, “Be specific.”

She snapped her head back up.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Morgana almost shouted, stifling her volume so the sleeping moppet wouldn’t hear, ““Eradicate” my foot, old man. I know the spell you used. You didn’t use a spell of eradication, you used a spell of transference!”

Arhcie had been staring down at his own sleeping familiar, but he snapped up when he heard that word, “transference”. First he looked to Morgana, then to Merlin.

“You told him it got destroyed, but you just - all you did was soak it up like a sponge!”

“Merlin… is that true?” Archie asked, obviously afraid that after all of this, Douxie would wake up without his mentor - his father - because he’d taken the poison for him. The little apprentice left without a master would never stop blaming himself, no matter how hard Morgana and Archie tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Merlin sighed, an affirmation without words or nods.

“I spent the years since it’s conception,” he started, “building an immunity to the dust and its properties. It was too big a risk, potentially having a weakness to something so daunting - something I’d seen subdue and poison countless wizards. Too high a risk - a threat to the greater good.”

“So… the poison’s not having any affect on you?” Archie asked, stepping around Douxie to approach Merlin, “It’s not… he couldn’t have gone through all of this just to lose you.”

“And he won’t.” Merlin assured in confidence, “Much more than a handful of that powder would have had to be thrown at him to have any severe affect on me. No, this won’t need more than a night of rest to fix. Besides, what’s the good in spending all that time building up an immunity to Draining Dust if not to make use of it? A waste of time and tolerance built.”

“You couldn’t have known it wouldn’t...” Morgana said, “You couldn’t have possibly known you’d survive taking all of it like that!”

“I didn’t.” Merlin snapped.

Morgana’s eyes widened, as if everything about what the boy meant to him fell into place.

Because he hadn’t worried about his survival - the matter didn’t even cross his mind, not when he could still hear Douxie whimpering in pain with each page of that spellbook he skimmed. No, he only concerned himself with the likelihood that it would save the boy, his only worry being about how badly it would hurt Douxie when he’d already had to go through so much senseless, ludicrous torture.

Merlin always prioritized the “greater good”, some vast, staggering, intangible concept that encapsulated so much - the lives of thousands, the wellbeing of millions, the good of humanity.

But when he found his son writhing, hurting, suffocating, dying, he found he couldn’t spare any more regard to the “greater good” in that moment than he would a layer of dust on one of his books. If saving Hisirdoux’s life meant casting aside the greater good, then there was no question about it - he’d let the greater good rot.

It didn’t matter to him if his magic would’ve been permanently diminished by extracting the poison, or even if it killed him. Cast the greater good aside - the greatest good was the life in Hisirdoux’s eyes, and by all the heavens, he’d protect it.

And thankfully, he did just that tonight, at the cost of neither his life, his health, or his own magic. And that was the greatest good he could have asked for.

With another sigh, relieved that Morgana chose not to pry, Merlin looked down at the boy, still sound asleep, laid out on his desk. He put one arm under Douxie’s back and the other behind his knees, picking him up just like he did when he found him in those woods.

But this time, instead of trembling in his hold, Douxie made a little noise and unconsciously put his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, snuggling closer, if it were possible, to the master wizard.

Yes. he thought. There’s no greater good than this.

Morgana put her hands over her mouth and looked at the two of them as if the sight was something adorable, and Merlin huffed. Archie took his same spot curled up on Douxie’s abdomen.

“I’m taking him to his room.” he said, hushing his voice even though he knew the moppet wouldn’t wake, “And I’ll let him sleep in tomorrow morning. He needs to rest.”

The sun had set sometime during the painstaking ordeal, but torchlight along the walls of the castle made it easy to take his sleeping apprentice back to his room even once night has fallen. After using a simple spell to swing the door open while his arms were in use carrying the boy, Merlin walked in and used another little spell. The green aura of his magic glowed around the blanket on Douxie’s bed as he folded part of it over using his magic, providing room to lay Douxie down on his bed with head nestled right in his pillow’s usual dent. Once Archie stepped out of the way, Merlin reached over and laid the blanket back over him.

Douxie stirred a little, but only to turn from his back onto his side, his back to the wall and his front facing Merlin. Once the boy settled again, Merlin tentatively reached behind his head and let his bun loose so it wouldn’t get tangled if he moved around too much in his sleep. He doubted it would, considering the exhaustion and soreness in his muscles would probably enticement enough to stay still, even unconscious, but the gesture couldn’t hurt.

Archie crawled right underneath one of Douxie’s arms and nestled against his chest, and the moppet unconsciously held the bespectacled cat a little tighter.

And that was Merlin’s unspoken cue to leave Hisirdoux to rest for the night, so that’s what he did. He needed rest too, after all - his built-up immunity may have saved his life, but the poison, like everything else in the onslaught of the evening, left him weary.

Tomorrow, a search would begin.

Tomorrow, Merlin would find out who was behind this.

Tomorrow, the greatest and most powerful wizard in Camelot would not relent until he found the monster, human or trollish, who almost killed his son.

But tonight, Hisirdoux lay curled up in his bed, sound asleep as he kept his familiar close. Tonight, his life was saved.

And tonight, that was enough.

[wizkiddx]

hiii could you do one of tom asking your dad to marry you?? thankuuuuu

okay so I don't believe in boys having to ask the dads, because we are strong independent QUEENS and no man owns me ever, but I hope this is still okay <33

not proof read and written super quick so sorry!

summary: Tom's terrified to ask your dad a very particular question question

///////////////////////////////////////////////

“Mr Y/l/n” Tom called your dads attention from the dishwasher he was loading up. The holidays spent at your parents meant a lot of good things- but mainly food. So much so the dishwasher was almost continually on, just so you didn’t run out of crockery.

“Its Y/d/n Tom, we’ve been through this.” He was joking but with your Dad - Tom could never really tell. At heart your dad was an absolute softie, except no one really saw that except your mum and you. Always a daddies girl, Tom knew how much your dad had meant to you. He had guessed before he’d met you parents , that he would be protective.

And that he was, never frontally rude or cruel. It was more subtle - though to Tom it was very damn clear, he had his doubts. As a people pleaser, Tom didn’t like the fact he didn’t like him. Time and time again, he’d tried to prove just how much you meant to him and yet it seemed to fall on deaf ears. So three years down the line, it was safe to say he was bloody terrified. Heart-in-mouth sort of event. Tom did a lot of ‘terrifying things’: talking to massive studio heads; going on stage with thousands of people screaming; jumping out a plane even.

But no, a single conversation with your dad had his adrenaline going like nobodies business. Asking to marry you.

“You going to just stand their gawking? I hope the moviestar doesn’t make my Y/n do all the housework?”

“No sir I-of course I don’t” Stammering his way through with wide eyes, Tom practically leapt across the kitchen to the opposite side of the dishwasher to your dad. Secretly your Dad was chuckling away to himself, taking absolute delight in how terrified the ‘movie star’ was of him, but managed to keep a steely outershell. In silence, the two uunloaded the dishwasher, Tom desperately racking his brains for conversation starters.

This is what he did for a living, learnt the speech he’d spent hours preparing, then retell it. Why then, was Tom having such an issue with the script he’d arguable practiced the most? Deciding he needed a buffer, Tom went to the safe space of small talk.

“So how was the pub? Y/n said you were meeting some old friends?”

“Watched the match, bloody awful game and Wilks was crap, I don’t know why he even started.” Now this football talk was something Tom felt safe in. He had learnt as much as he could about your dads team - just so there was some mutual conversation.

“Yeh tell me about it, I caught the last half. Though the ref made so bad decisions too, that penalty never really was VAR or not.”

“Thats the most respectable thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

The next couple of minutes were spent with both men raving fanatically, letting all their anger out on the pretty subpar game this afternoon. In fact, Tom swore your dad actually laughed along with him at one point. Admittedly he’d caught himself almost immediately- but for two seconds, he had cracked it.

With the last mug placed in the cabinet, Tom was quite frankly shocked at what your dad said next. He had presumed that since it was late and everyone else was in bed, Y/d/n wouldn’t want quality time with his daughters boyfriend.

“You fancy a nightcap son?”

He’d never called Tom that either. Frankly, you dad preferred the nickname ‘moviestar’ because he knew it infuriated Tom. Made the tips of his ears flush bright red, that was Toms tell - one that your dad had noticed too early on.

Jerkily Tom nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he followed the elder man to the sitting room - where he kept the scotch glasses and bottle. No sooner had the drinks been poured, that Tom practically exploded with his thoughts.

“Mr Y/l/n-sorry I mean Y/d/n I-I um I needed to ask you something.” All he got was a long sigh and a nod, encouraging him to continue. “I-uhm….”Tom scoffed, clearing his throat because all of a sudden it felt like he hadnt had a drink in 10 hours, mouth completely dry.

“Well first off-and all respect. I know I don’t have to ask you. Y/n is the most independent and strong woman and we aren’t living in the 1950s. But, well but she loves you alot.” Tom stressed that last point especially, looking up to your dads poker face. It put him off for moment.

It was just how grumpy he looked, it was bloody terrifying. Taking a big gulp of the malty liquid, Tom steeled himself once again. “ And she respects you, your opinion always matters and I’d never come between that. And Y/n, she likes her traditions right? Like the stupid hat game you all play at Christmas dinner which makes no sense to me? Or the puzzle that you don’t start till everyone’s pretty drunk and tired at 3 o’clock in the morning on christmas? So that is… uhm thats why I’m asking you.”

Again all Tom was met with was a stern gaze, once again taking another generous sip of the scotch.

“Look I know you have your doubts about me- “ That got a response, a snort of agreement from your dad as if saying ‘you think’.

“But-but I really love your daughter. She’s my whole world and I can’t imagine being without her. And I know my lifestyle probably doesn’t fit with how you imagined your daughter to have. I mean-I’m not always at home and I’m away for months but- but…. look.” Tom sighed, shifting awkwardly on the sofa to directly face your dads armchair. “When I’m homesick and tired and grouchy from filming and I get back to the hotel I facetime Y/n. Everyday. And just seeing her smile, you-you know, the really soft small one that makes her dimples pop out? One look at that smile and everythings fine. Because all I’m thinking about is seeing that smile for the rest of my life. When she finds out she’s pregnant with our kid, when we’re taking them to college. I mean even when we’re 80 and probably sick of each other- she’ll still have that little smile that puts me into this sort of stupor. I just- I love her. And I’d do anything for her, I always will, I promise you that. So-so” With a shaky breath, Tom delivered his hitline.

“This is me just letting you know that I’m going to ask her to marry me and- I really hope she says yes.”

Tom was almost out of breath, and the breath he did have was shaky, looking up desperately at the older man across from him. He watched with wide eyes as your Dad placed his glass back on the drinks table with a clink, before leaning forward and standing up from the chair. He groaned slitghtly at the movement (his knees werent what they used to be) and took the two steps forward to be stood right infront of Tom’s seat. In that moment, Tom honestly thought he was getting a punch to the jaw at the very least. Afterall, he had just pretty much demanded that he were to propose to you.

As he braced for impact, tensing all his muscles, instead what he felt was a light pat to his right shoulder. Tom trailed his eyes up your dads figure to see what he thought was a gentle smile on his face too. Though he hadn’t ever seen your Dad smile at him before, so couldn’t say for certainty.

“You’re a good kid Tom, and you make Y/n very happy. Just pull yourself together when you ask her alright son? Didn’t think moviestars got stage fright.” And with that, your dad turned his back, heading toward the doorway that lead to the stairs to the bedrooms. Stunned, it took a moment or two before Tom processed - long enough that he had to leap up and call your dads name to get him to halt in the hallway.

“So is that a yes? You’re giving me permssion?”

“Oh Tom….” Your dad sighed in the lowlight of the hallway, in a more muted voice - now they were closer to the bedrooms where both you and your mum were sleeping peacefully. “ You already said, Y/n is strong and fiercely independent. I don’t control her, heck I don’t think she’s ever listened to me and never will. But…. for the record, I hope she says yes too and… I know she will.”

Scoffing in excitement, Tom combed a hand through his scalp, feeling such a wave of relief it was almost indescribable as your dad turned and trudged up the stairs. Once he heard the door of your parents bedroom close, he couldn’t help himself. He ran back into the kitchen, where he preceded to do an excited jumpy dance thing.

Because it meant a lot. To have your dads approval, to have your dads support. That meant the world. Not only for the sake of proposing but also, everything Tom said was true. He wanted to build a family with you - which meant that man was going to be the grandparents to your kids one day. That man had helped to craft you into the person you were today - his ‘person’. His perfect angelic, sweet woman.

Whenever he felt this excited, this happy, this elated - theres only one person he wants to be with. So, after turning all the lights off and checking the doors were locked (with a very obvious spring in his step) he then hopped up the stairs. Tiptoeing around, he got ready for bed in no time, before getting to the highlight of each evening.

Delicately he crawled into bed, sliding under the covers, so as to not disturb you. Naturally though, feeling the bed dip made you turnover- hooking your legs round his and resting your head on his chest. Tom chuckled quietly at your cuteness, stroking your cheek lightly with his thumb. It was enough to rouse you awake, enough to make you acutely aware of the thundering sound from his chest. With tired eyes, you propped your chin on his breastbone looking up at him with concern.

“You alright T? Hearts really racing.” He only replied with this loopy lovesick grin, his right hand coming to cup your cheek.

“Go back to sleep darling, I’m okay.” He did look okay, but he was almost too smiley and even with a foggy sleepy brain, you were still suspicious.

“Whats going on, you’re being weird?”

“Nothing…. your dad and me just had a chat… He called me son.” That shocked you too - clearly the conversation you’d had with him about being nicer to Tom had rubbed off.

“He did?”

“He did…. you are beautiful you know?” Now he was definitely being weird. You furrowed your eyebrows, as if trying to read his mind because something odd was going on in there.

“Now you’re just being creepy. What’s up?”

Tom just leant forward to kiss your forehead, then pulled you down onto his chest.

“I just love your family and I love you, you know that?”

“Are you trying to get into my pants? Because my parents are literally in the next room.”

“Oh shut up and kiss me.”

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x reader) p.2

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, Knife play, Oral (m&f), Smut, Bondage, Kidnapping

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: Here is part 2, for those who have taken a chance on my trash, thank you so much!! I hope I don’t disappoint. ❤️

Chapter 2:

You feel your chest seize and you start to shake as your heart rate skyrockets, your body and mind dissolving into a full blown panic attack as you feel around the black box imprisoning you. You are only locked in for a minute before you hear rustling outside and you are thrown into the wall as the whole box shifts and turns.

“What the fuck. Oh my god, someone help! Please let me out!” Your voice cracks as your pleading grows more desperate with each passing minute.

You try to hold out hope that it’s a prank or part of the experience but after what you were sure had to be at least ten minutes of begging to possibly no one, you sag in defeat. Your eyes burn with hot tears, the temperature inside the box rising the longer you sit there. Stewing in silence and sweat, you listen to anything that might tell you where you have been moved to but the joyful bustle of the carnival fades early on.

You fall asleep hunched at the bottom of the box, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. You don’t know for how long but you are awoken roughly as the box tips over sending you face first into the solid surface. You grunt and stretch out, turning to lay on your back.

“Open it” you hear faintly.

The wall above you is ripped off instantly by a singular muscular arm. Startled, you gasp but manage to hold in the pathetic squeak when you look up into piercing blue eyes shrouded in unruly golden hair. Your own eyes widening as you take in the sheer mass of this man.

The muscles under his sun-kissed skin ripple as he huffs and stands straight. He scratches his bearded jaw, looking over to the darker figure you could barely see standing across from him.

“Yes I can see why you liked this one. Inquisitive eyes. A bit of fire in there, yes?” The hulking blond man raises a brow and smirks at you.

Had you not been in your current situation he would have been the type of man you could drool over for days. But considering the fact that you appear to be kidnapped, his physique only enhances your trepidation.

“Where the fuck am I?” You demand, fighting your soft-spoken nature.

“Yeah, there’s that fire” the large man chuckles deeply. “Want me to put her on the wall?” He asks looking back to his silent counterpart.

“The wall?” You mutter, panic rising again at the prospect of being ‘put’ anywhere.

“Yes, then you may go. Thank you , Thor” The darker mans voice drones, sounding bored.

The larger man, Thor, leans down and goes to grab you, making you scream and try to slap away his arms which is clearly ineffective, considering his bicep is the size of your head. He grabs your wrists easily and pulls you to your feet, you try going limp but he hardly seems to notice as he drags you out of the box. You start kicking and flailing wildly as he tosses you against a hard flat wooden surface attached to the wall. You sob as he takes one of your arms and stretches it straight out and snaps a mounted metal cuff around your wrist. You reach over with your free hand and try to unclasp the lock but he catches you and stretches the other arm out to the other side, rendering you completely helpless.

Arms spread wide, you feel exposed and vulnerable, especially when he traces his hand over your breasts before stepping away. That’s when you finally look at the thing you are mounted to. A circular wooden board painted red and white like a giant target, with you at the center.

“What the hell is this?” You tremble.

“Ankles too, for now” the dark suited man directs from across the room.

“Oh, well aren’t you a lucky girl” Thor chuckles under his breath before kneeling down and spreading your legs, attaching each to a similar iron restraint.

“Please. Please let me go” you plead softly to the bulky blond as he stands straight and smiles at you.

Thor brushes his thumb under your eye, catching a stray tear before sucking it into his mouth and humming.

“So sweet.” He praises before winking at you and leaving the room.

Your eyes settle on the lithe figure facing away from you. He’s tall and although he’s not as thick as Thor, you can tell he doesn’t lack strength either. He sheds his jacket and lays it neatly across the desk in front of him.

“If this is s-some sort of joke, it’s not funny” you stutter.

You watch in horror as he slowly turns to look at you, leaning back on his desk and crossing his ankles.

“You’re a clever girl, does this feel like a prank to you, darling?” His voice is as smooth as silk.

“Why are you doing this? Where are my friends?” You question, dreading the answer.

“Oh they will make fine prizes for the highest bidder. But you, darling… you caught my attention.” He explains blithely, slowly unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

“Lucky me” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him as a wave of anger washes over you at the mention of your friends.

“Indeed.” He smiles cruelly.

“I swear to god if you hurt my friends –“ you fume before getting cut off suddenly.

You barely see the silver glint as something small whizzes through the air toward your head. A sharp silver blade sinks into the board next to your head, the shock causing you to choke on a gasp. It was mere inches away from your eye.

“Care to threaten me again?” He smirks, holding another knife in his right hand, the sharp point of it delicately pressing into the middle finger of his left hand.

You gulp as your body shakes uncontrollably, your life seemed to flash before your eyes in that moment. How did he throw that so fast, you say to yourself, the target behind you making more sense now. You shake your head in response to his question, voice lost amongst the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Very well” he nods once, with a small smile.

Your eyes are glued to the dagger in his hand, as he flourishes it about casually. Your muscles tense every time he tosses it gently in the air before catching it.

“Now, I want to know how you solved those riddles so quickly today” he asks lightly before throwing another dagger, this one splintering the wood inches away on the other side of your head. “And no lies.”

You squeak and close your eyes, body trembling so badly you aren’t sure how to form words anymore.

“I – I don’t know. I just did.” You manage to stammer out. “Please stop.”

Another dagger flies through the air, landing with a thud between your thighs.

“Oh my god, please! Please” you cry.

“You know some people could figure out one, maybe two, within the time limit. Most just get the answers from those who went before them. Others just come back repeatedly, mindlessly searching for the keys. But you… such a clever girl” he purred, pushing himself away from the desk still clutching another knife.

“You can hardly blame me for being curious” he continues, taking slow steps toward you.

He stops before you, admiring your terrified expression before dropping his eyes down your body. You pull on the restraints and shift in discomfort at his close proximity. He smiles as his eyes connect once more with your own, his pupils blown wide.

“I’m sorry, okay. I wasn’t trying to – I won’t ever do it again. Just please let me and my friends go,” you beg.

You watch him smirk and sniff at your pathetic pleas, both fully aware you have nothing to offer. He turns and calmly walks back to his desk.

“Ugh let me go you fucking creep! What do you want from me?” Anger and panic causing you to lash out desperately.

He turns and flings another dagger at you, but this time you feel a sharp pain under your arm. You look over to see the dagger pinning your shirt to the board, slowly staining with blood.

“Oh my god!” You scream shifting your arm away from the dagger. “You cut me!”

“Barely more than a scratch. You’ll survive.” He assured you coolly with a roll of his eyes.

You feel the slow flow of warmth trickle down the underside of your arm and you whimper as you watch him near you again. He stops in front of you and pulls the dagger from the board, releasing your shirt. He admires the blade for a moment and then reaches out to you, making you flinch away. His eyes flare at your reaction and he tuts disapprovingly.

“This shirt, however…” he mocks, sliding the sharp end of the blade under the hem of the fabric along your stomach, “I’m afraid it will not.”

You gasp as he brings the knife up cutting through the flimsy material with barely any resistance. You cry as the cool air breezes over your exposed stomach. The useless cloth hanging loosely off your arms.

“Better” he coos his appraisal, as he glides the tip of the knife from your neck to your navel.

Your chest heaves as the reality set in like a boulder dropping in your stomach. You can’t believe this is how your ‘fun night out’ is going. Cursing your luck as you wonder why the hell your intelligence only seemed to lead you to trouble and scummy men.

“All of this because I solved your stupid riddles” you gripe, shaking your head in bitter disbelief.

“Stupid?” He repeats, his face twisting in disgust at the insult.

“Yeah, what is it? You have a problem with women smarter than you? No, that can’t be it, you’d have to be used to that by now.” You sneer.

You don’t know where this boldness is coming from, but something about this man makes you angry, and you figure, what do I have to lose?

His face twists in anger and he slams the dagger into the wall above your head. Your head is now caged in by three sharp knives and yet you suppress a flinch.

“That, wasn’t so smart, darling.” His lip curls in amusement as he backs off slightly and grips the rounded edge of the board spinning it until you are hanging upside down.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen