#the collar change.... very inch resting Tumblr posts

[eurodynamic]

HADES & CERBERUS Hades (2020) vs. Hades II (2024 - EA)

[roosterforme]

It Won't Be Long | Rooster x Reader

Summary: How are you supposed to tell your family that you have to leave? Especially when everything still feels new and flawless and beautiful? Bradley knows it will be rough to break the news to you, but telling Everett will be so much worse.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, adult language

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Oh, shit."

Bradley's heart sank as he read the paperwork that Maverick just handed to him. "Fuck," he groaned, fighting the urge to crumple up the pages. The sounds of conversation buzzing around him in the rec room faded to a dull noise that set his teeth on edge as he thought about how he was going to explain this to you. And even worse....how he would tell Everett. 

"Sorry, Rooster," Maverick replied, cuffing him on the shoulder, but Bradley didn't move except to shake his head a fraction of an inch. He should have known this was coming. He should have been prepared for this, but it felt like a slap in the face. You and he had only been married for less than six months, and he still felt like this was very much the honeymoon phase. How the hell was he supposed to spend a single day without you and Everett, let alone one hundred of them?

He'd been planning to take the three of you up to Disneyland for a little overnight trip during spring break. Kind of a precursor to a longer vacation to Disney World in Orlando in the summer. Well, now he'd be missing all of spring break. And he was going to miss opening day at Petco Park, too.

He vaguely registered that Maverick dismissed him early, and he heard Bob calling his name as he headed for the door. He stopped but didn't turn around as he told his future brother-in-law, "I'll call you later." He'd have to tell Bob and Molly soon, because you and Everett would need them if anything happened while Bradley was deployed, but he didn't want to talk about it with anyone until he told you himself. 

When he got home before you, it gave him plenty of time to mope while he got dinner in the oven. He decided to take a long shower, suddenly wanting nothing more than to change out of his fucking uniform. The Valentine's Day card he gave you a few days ago was still propped up on your dresser, and he sighed when he looked at the pretty flowers still blooming beautifully in the vase next to it. When he opened the card and read what he'd written, he wasn't surprised to find that he had it practically memorized after spending hours agonizing about what to say to his wife on a day dedicated to being in love.

Kitten, 

You changed my life and everything in it for the better last spring, and not a minute goes by that I'm not thinking about you. I hope you'll let me love you every Valentine's Day for the rest of my life. I hope you'll love me back for all of them. I'm so happy you're my wife.

Love,

Bradley

P.S.- How do you feel about wearing your collar, leash and your bodysuit tonight?

He set the card down again with a soft groan and stripped out of his uniform. The shower felt amazing, and he treated himself to your expensive body wash before he rinsed himself off. When he put on his sweatpants and started looking for a tee shirt, everything in his drawer seemed to have Top Gun or Navy Waves printed on it. He just wasn't in the mood for any of it since he knew he was about to have two conversations he'd really rather skip, so he pulled on the Phillies shirt that he got for Christmas from you and Everett.

The kitchen timer started going off at the same time he heard your car in the driveway, and Bradley ran back downstairs to get dinner out of the oven. "You're home early!" you said, bursting through the front door with Everett by your side, and for the first time since this morning, everything seemed more colorful and loud in a good way.

"Dad! I aced my math test!" Everett said as he came running into the kitchen, waving a sheet of paper in the air. "A hundred percent!"

Bradley's heart clenched as he picked Everett up in a hug and buried his face against him. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. That's what happens when you stop rushing through your homework."

He held onto his son a little longer than he normally would before kissing his cheek and setting him down. You eyed him closely as you dumped your work stuff on one of the chairs. He must have done something to give himself away, because a second later, you said, "Ev, you promised you'd take ten minutes to clean your room before dinner."

"Fine," he replied, his voice right on the edge of whining. Normally Bradley would remind him not to talk to you that way, but he let it slide right now. Everett headed for the stairs, and once he was out of sight, you were in Bradley's arms. 

"What's wrong, Coach?" you asked, running your fingers along his cheek before pushing them through his damp hair. "What's bothering you?"

When you gently kissed him, he didn't stop you. And when it took him a minute to reply, you didn't rush him. "Baby... I'm being deployed."

Your grip on him grew incrementally tighter as you whispered, "Oh. When?" 

His forehead met yours as he forced out the sentence, "I have to leave mid March, and I'm due back on Ev's birthday."

When you nodded, he could tell you were still letting his words settle in your mind. You took a deep breath and huffed out a little laugh as you whispered, "That's a long time."

Bradley swallowed down his guilt. "It's too damn long. I don't want to go fourteen weeks without you and Ev. I don't even like going a whole day when I can help it. I'm supposed to be here with you."

You nodded, and when you spoke, he could hear the tears in your voice. "We managed without you before, we can do it again. At least you'll get home on his birthday."

He collected you tighter against his body as he groaned. He would rather do almost anything other than miss his son's eighth birthday. "Kitten. Sometimes the dates aren't accurate. Sometimes the carriers run behind schedule. One time I returned a week later than I anticipated." 

You made a soft sound that left him reeling. "Well, if that happens, then I'll explain it to him. And we'll deal with it."

"Fuck," he grunted, slipping out of your grasp and gripping the edge of the countertop with both hands as his anger flared. "I don't want the two of you to have to deal with me missing out on celebrations. I already bought tickets for Ev and I to go to see the Padres on opening day! I was going to let him skip school! If I miss his birthday, I swear I'll be fucking sick, Kitten! And if Molly doesn't have the baby before March fifteenth, then I won't get to meet him until he's three months old!"

"Bradley," you whispered, ducking under his arm so you were right there between him and the counter. "Listen to me," you said, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. "This is why we love you so much. Because you love us so much."

You had tears in your eyes that matched his as he muttered, "I still feel like we just got married. Like every day with you is so exciting. And Ev didn't grow up with a military dad. He's not used to my lifestyle. I..." Bradley paused and dipped his head down, staring at your work shoes as he said, "I feel important every day because both of you rely on me for things around here. More than just my income. Ev and I do his homework together, and I like helping you cook meals. And I live for taking him to the park to play baseball. I live for it, Kitten."

With two firm hands under his chin, you shifted him so he was looking at you. "I said we would be able to manage without you because we did it before. We know how to do it. Not that we would enjoy ourselves, Bradley. My heart will hurt with worry every day that you're gone, and Everett will miss you because you're essential to his happiness. But this is part of your career, and you're very good at it."

Bradley knew he was crying now as he said, "I'll miss the beginning of his baseball season. He's the only one from his old team who is going to play real ball again this spring instead of tee ball."

You smiled and kissed his cheek. "All thanks to you. And I'll take a million videos for you to watch. I'll email them so you can scrutinize his technique, and then I'll help him improve. I mean, look how much more I know about baseball since I first met you."

Of course your words made him feel a little better. They always did. You always validated his place in this family when he started to doubt himself. "You've come a long way, Kitten. And it's a good thing, too, because I don't think Ev is going to lose interest in baseball any time soon."

You smiled as your lips skimmed his. "I really hope not since the two of you turned the extra bedroom into a Phillies shrine."

"Why are you both crying?"

Bradley's gaze snapped toward Everett who was halfway between the bottom of the stairs and the kitchen with a concerned look on his face. "Ev," he started, unsure how to handle this conversation. Part of him wanted to wait until after the three of you had eaten dinner, but right now, he looked very upset.

"Is Aunt Molly okay?" he asked softly. "She was crying the other day when she said the baby was hurting her back."

When Bradley still hesitated, you said, "Aunt Molly is fine. She texted me a picture of her swollen feet at lunchtime." Then you leaned in closer and whispered, "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No," Bradley replied immediately. "No, I'll do it." But it was harder than he thought it would be to get the words out in a way that would make sense to a seven year old. Why had he convinced himself that he'd be good at this parenting thing? He didn't even know what the hell to say right now. "Grab our gloves," he told his son. "Let's go out back and toss a ball around before we eat dinner."

Everett perked up immediately and ran off, only to return with two well worn baseball gloves and a baseball. "Okay."

Bradley slipped on a pair of shoes. "Okay."

Wordlessly, they threw the ball around for a bit, the quiet space soothing the part of Bradley that was terrified of fucking this up. "Hey, Kiddo?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Everett asked as he threw a scorcher to Bradley.

"You remember how we talked about deployments before?"

"Yeah." His voice was softer this time, and his face fell a little bit. "I remember. It's when you have to go way out into the ocean and fly off of an aircraft carrier."

"Yeah," Bradley croaked, squeezing the ball as hard as he could in his right hand. "I'm going to have to leave to do that in a few weeks."

He watched as his son tried to be strong and keep it together, but then Everett's face crumpled as he started crying. "But you said that lasts for months," he said as he looked at the ground, and Bradley rushed toward him. "And I heard Jayden in my class say deployments are really dangerous."

"Ev," he replied, dropping the ball and his glove and kneeling right in front of him. He swiped at the tears with his fingers as he said, "I can't stand it when you cry. It breaks my heart." 

But Everett just cried more. "I don't want you to leave now. You just got here!"

"Kiddo," he whispered, wrapping him up in a hug. "I'll be back soon. It won't be long. Nothing we can't handle."

"But what if something happens to you?" 

Bradley's heart shattered and was immediately put back together. He hated making you and Everett worry about him, but the fact that you both loved him enough to care made him feel whole. He kissed his son's tear streaked cheeks and said, "The only thing that's going to happen is me flying around in my jet for a few weeks before I come right back home. Sounds pretty boring, right?"

He nodded against Bradley's shoulder. "Yeah, I guess so."

Bradley kissed his forehead and whispered, "I'll be so bored without you. I'm going to need you and Mom to take a bunch of photos and videos and email them to me all day long. And I'll need you to ace all your school assignments and be well behaved for everyone except your Aunt Molly. You think you can do that?"

Everett shrugged, but when his glove slipped off of his hand, he hugged Bradley around the neck. "I'll try, Dad. But I'll miss you."

A tear slipped down Bradley's cheek as he managed to say, "I'll miss you, too."

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

"It's not time yet," you told Everett as he sat on the couch with the iPad on his lap, staring at it longingly. "Ten more minutes. Why don't you finish your math homework while you wait?"

"Because I like doing my math homework with Dad," Everett explained as he looked at you like you were absolutely ridiculous for even suggesting such a thing. "I want to solve the problem with him."

Even though it meant you would have less time to talk to your husband about other things, you'd let Everett do math homework with him over FaceTime. It wasn't like Bradley was going to complain. They were two peas in a pod. Everett even had the Phillies current pitching stats printed out and ready to share. 

"You'll have to show him your countdown, too. We're getting closer."

Before Bradley left, he and Everett cut up countless strips of paper and wrote numbers on them so Everett could conduct a countdown until his eighth birthday. Until the day Bradley was supposed to return home. There had been a gigantic paper chain snaking through the house, but now you were down to your final ten loops. Just ten more days without Bradley.

When the iPad rang, Everett nearly dropped it in his excitement, and you ran in from the kitchen. "Dad!" he said as Bradley's handsome face filled the screen.

"Hey, Ev," he said, sounding exhausted and relieved. "I miss you, Kiddo. Where's Mom?" 

"She's right here." 

Your son tilted the screen, and Bradley sighed. "Kitten."

"Bradley! We miss you. Ten more days!"

A crooked smile broke out on his face, and he kept his eyes on you for a beat longer while Everett started telling him all about baseball practice with his new coach and how his baby cousin Charlie threw up yesterday and about how the Phillies won three games in a row. You lost him to your son just like you knew you would as soon as Everett asked him for help with his homework. 

You sat quietly on the couch while Bradley looked at the math sheet and helped him work through the problem. Then Everett showed him the remaining length of the paper chain countdown, and as soon as that was finished, Bradley said, "Great job, Kiddo. Now why don't you go clean your room up before bed while I talk to Mom?"

"Okay. Love you, Dad!"

"I love you, too," he promised. "And I'll see you on your birthday."

Everett handed you the iPad and ran upstairs to his bedroom. "After all that, I only get three minutes alone with my husband this week," you said with a little smirk.

Bradley groaned and shook his head. "I can guarantee when I get home, I'll be on you nonstop. Don't worry about that, Baby. We won't sleep for days."

You bit your lip and laughed as he groaned. "What do you want for your birthday, Coach?"

He glanced around the small room where he was sitting before he said, "You can find that information written in your Valentine's Day card. Maybe throw in some vanilla frosting, and I'll be all set."

"Sounds good," you replied, and his smile grew. "We'll count down to Ev's birthday, and then we'll count down to yours."

"Speaking of which, did you get his present ready? All wrapped up in a box?"

You nodded as your heart fluttered. "Exactly to your specifications," you promised, picturing the package you had stashed in the linen closet.

"Perfect. I need to make it up to him for missing opening day for the Padres. I hated disappointing him."

As you glanced around your living room at the remaining countdown numbers and Everett's completed math homework, you said, "Something tells me you could never truly disappoint him. See you in ten days, my love."

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

"Dad!"

Bradley rushed through the crowd on the dock and headed for his family. You looked beautiful, and somehow Everett looked like he grew six inches in three months, but everything was perfect again once he had an arm wrapped around each of you. He kissed your lips and squeezed you to his side. "I missed you, Kitten," he murmured, knowing you wouldn't be too mad if you weren't his main focus until later tonight. "Happy birthday, Kiddo," he said with a smile as he released you to hug his son. "I missed you, too."

Everett clung to him when Bradley knelt down, and he stood up again with him in his arms. "Last week, my new coach said I have a heck of an arm. And school's already over. Mom took a video of my last day on Friday. You have to watch seventeen new videos from last week. We can watch them together tomorrow before we go out for pizza with baby Charlie and Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob."

Bradley buried his face against Everett's shoulder, excited to hear him talking a mile a minute in person. "Absolutely. But first, let's get home and open your birthday present."

The ride in your car was filled with your voice and Everett's, and Bradley sat back with a smile on his face and his fingers laced with yours. "How was the aircraft carrier?" Everett asked.

"Boring, loud and uncomfortable. And they never showed the Phillies games on TV."

"We can watch the game recaps!"

Bradley was already daydreaming about taking a few days off work, lounging on the couch with Everett until lunchtime, going to the park to play baseball, and then making love to you all night.

"We can definitely watch the game recaps," he promised as you pulled into the driveway next to Bradley's prized Bronco. "But first, I really want you to open your birthday present."

He didn't change out of his uniform. He didn't even remove his boots. He just gave Everett the box wrapped in red and white paper after you handed it to him, and he watched his son tear into the paper while your hands came to rest on his chest. "You are the only birthday present that kid wanted," you whispered.

Bradley felt the flush rising in his cheeks as you kissed his neck, but Everett had the lid off the box now. "I don't know about that, Kitten. I think he'll like this one," Bradley replied as Everett put the Phillie Phanatic hat on his head and read the paper he found in the box out loud.

"Three tickets for the Phillies game at Citizens Bank Park! On the Fourth of July! Behind the dugout! That's where the Phanatic dances! We can see the Phanatic for real! In Philadelphia!"

"Told you," Bradley whispered against your lips as Everett ran around the living room, already thrilled for his first trip to Philly.

But you were shaking your head and looking up at him with the most sincere expression as you said, "Just wait for it."

And you were right. A few minutes later, after Everett's excitement for his Phillies tickets tapered off a bit, he asked, "Dad, can we build a blanket tent and watch Toy Story and eat popcorn?"

Bradley paused where he was unlacing his boots and smiled. "Under one condition."

Everett smiled back and shrugged. "Okay. What is it?"

Bradley tossed his boots aside and said, "We change into our matching baseball pajamas and grab the stuffed Phanatic from your bedroom. And Mom gets to join us, too."

"Deal."

An hour and a half later, Bradley was watching one of his favorite movies with two of his favorite people. You were feeding him popcorn and teasing his hair as you lay with your head on his shoulder in the blanket fort. Everett was sound asleep, draped across Bradley's chest, and it felt so good to be home, he almost started crying. 

"I missed this so much," he whispered, kissing Everett's forehead. "Missed my family."

You hummed softly as you raked your fingers through his hair. "Like I said, going to the Phillies game will be great and all, but having you home today was the only thing he really needed for his birthday."

Bradley grinned and asked, "And does my Kitten need me, too?"

You popped up from his shoulder and whispered, "Why don't you carry Ev up to his bed, and then I'll let you find out."

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

I love emo Coach Bradley, and it was definitely time to check in with the three of them. He never wants to be the reason Everett cries, but that kid loves him so much, it's unavoidable. Let's check back in with them again soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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@mygyn

@yuckosworld

[blueparadis]

+ cw. —› ex-husband aizen souske x (fem)reader, headcanon format, yan!behaviour, smût, angst undertones, marking, jealousy, mentions of breeding kink & baby-trapping | +wc. —0.7kish

+ notes. —› i was listening to cherry waves by deftones ( for the first time ) & this happened. maybe I'll pull this into a fic but for now, have this, please || redirect to blog navigation.

+. ex!husband aizen souske who feels his throat dry, lips corrosive against his favorite drink when he sees you in a cheap restaurant with another guy, considerably younger to y/n, who is alluded in her charms like he was when he first saw her walking down the aisle; when he casually stopped by, at that cheap bar after a long day at work.

+. ex!husband aizen souske who makes sure that from now on he will pay a visit to you and his beloved daughters every weekend so that she does not have to look for affection at some cheap bars and restaurants. This way at least he can ask her if she is actually planning for her second innings or not.

+. ex!husband aizen souske who calls you at ungodly hours: on a warm afternoon or in the dead of night just to let remind you that he will be coming to pick you up after work tomorrow for a weekly visit with his daughters just so his other meetings do not get delayed but all he wants to do is to keep you on watch as much as possible.

+. ex!husband aizen souske occasionally sends gifts to his daughters in order to send his ex-wife expensive presents with personal notes, as if he will return to this home after his work as if he never left.

+. ex!husband aizen souske who checks you out when you're unaware and yet tells you in that familiar deep husky tone: how much those colors suit her that he hated once, how much she looks charming and beautiful, how much she changed since he left and maybe divorce looks good on her : independent and elegant like a free bird.

+. ex!husband aizen souske who thinks her new young boyfriend is not good enough for you, always ends up going to the same restaurants and hotels where he used to take her, just remembering those good old memories.

+. ex!husband aizen souske who wants you back can not just let this opportunity slide, that is, him visiting you when the daughters are not home; so he just asks if you ever regret it or not as if he still can, as if he owns you. And, when he is responded with the same question right back at him he secretly congratulates himself for getting under your skin.

+. ex!husband aizen souske who knows your weak points lets you walk away knowing very well that you will turn around to have a last glance at him. So, all he would do is not turn his gaze when you have already walked passed by him, so that when you turn around all he has to do is to grab your wrists above her head saying, “Answer me. I asked you a question. Do you or do you not regret it?”

+. ex!husband aizen souske who is currently inches apart from you, staring right into your eyes while you squirm and look away but his hold on you grows only stronger when he sees your beautiful eyes glistening more than it usually does, perhaps he scared you a bit, cocks his head to a side, in the dip of your neck inhaling her scent murmuring, “Still wearing that perfume I gifted you, huh ?”

+. ex!husband aizen souske who is absorbed in the good old memories of you, your scent, and what he used to do whenever you used to cry and look sad is now slowly curling his arms around your waist while his lips drag from the corner of your lips to the neckline and then on to collar bones.

+. ex!husband aizen souske who smirks the moment he hears you moaning, even if it's feeble he lets go of her hands so that you can rest them over his shoulders while he could carry her to the nearby cupboard top to make you feel less lonely. He has fucked her there, made babies with her and he can do it again.

+. ex!husband aizen souske who could already feel you gripping the collar of his suit while he presses his hard-on against your entrance is already marking all the way up your exposed neckline so that whenever you meet with your new young boyfriend, he would take the hint right away. There is no way he is losing to a mere boy like Gin Ichimaru. He has to be the better one.

– @tokyometronetwork & @underratedcharactercorner

@semisgroupie & @sailewhoremoon ( cuz you two like himmm ... that's why I tagged?! )

[moonlight-stalker]

# Dcu x Dp 142

In the center of Gotham there stood two unique and strange statues.

One of the statues was of a humanoid man that stood up straight at 5 feet 8 inches both of his hands resting on the top of a sword that was in front of him. He wears a cape that was sculpted to look like there is fur on the edges a chain holds the cape in place, where the chain meets the cape there is a human-looking skull on both sides. His head is slightly tilted down so if you stood a couple of feet away he would be looking at you, he has a soft open smile on his face if you look closely enough you can see he has fangs. His hair looked as though it was floating, on top of his head sat a crown, he had pointy ears the hands that rested on top of the sword had nails that looked like claws. He wears a bodysuit baggy pants and what looks like combat boots, on the center of his bodysuit there is a D with a P inside symbol.

At his feet lays the other statue, a big Rottweiler. The dog came up to his hip while lying down and was at least 7 feet long, his head was by the man's hip and his body was curled behind the man's legs. The dog had his mouth open partially with his tongue hanging out you could see his teeth when looking at him the dog's head was looking at the same spot that the man's head was looking at. The dog wore a collar with spikes at the front there was a tag that had the name Cujo and on the back of the tag the same symbol that was on the man's bodysuit. One of the dog's paws was resting on top of an actual dog toy made of rubber.

They both are on a stone pedestal that is about 3 feet tall and 6 feet wide the pedestal is decorated with symbols of death and protection. You can find other humanoids sculpted into the pedestal and over time people have noticed that you can also find the Bats and Birds symbols on the front of the pedestal and in the corners you can find symbols that represent the rogues.

The statue had both precious gemstones and metals decorating it. The statue of the dog had the least, the dog's eyes are made of rubies the claws are made of obsidian. The spikes on the collar seemed to be an actual metal, in between each spike a star sapphire sits. Under each spike, a small chain is attached and connects to the next spike.

The man had much more, his eyes were made of Alexandrite stones but changed from Emerald to Sapphire and they changed at random. His freckles are a combination of Opal stone and Moonstone that are spread across his cheeks and nose, and his claws and sword are made of obsidian. The cape outside of the cape has small silver spots, and on the inside, there are many different gemstones that are decorated to look like stars in the sky. Crown is made of a combination of Amazonite and Malachite and is decorated with Ammolite, papagoite, shattuckite, and star sapphire. Bracelets are made of Azurite with grandidierite, he has Paraiba tourmaline earrings with one star sapphire earrings hanging from his right ear. He has three rings one made of Garnet, the second one is made of Grandidierite, and the last one is made of Jeremejevite. On his left hand, there are some cracks that disappear underneath the sleeves of his bodysuit and appear again on his left cheek the cracks seem to be filled with emerald ( the bats know it's not emerald it's crystallized LaArus water ) it is like a kintsugi.

Several things make these two statues very unique

1. No known history there is nothing about who made the status or why they were placed there

2. Destroy or steal no matter how many times people try to blow up the statues or smash them no damage can be done, and no one can remove any of the gemstones that are on them. The person would also become sick or be injured after trying

3. Can't be Recorded or take pictures it's difficult to get clear pictures and videos unless they're from an older model

4. No one can buy or take them many wealthy people have tried to buy the statues and take them but every time that's happened the machines and cars that were there to move them were shut down and the person who tried to buy them would get extremely sick and be haunted by nightmares, night terrors and paralysis.

5. Crused and blessed as mentioned before people would get sick be injured get nightmares, night terrors, and/or paralysis. People that stand in a 15 feet radius of the status can't get infected by any of the gass that are release and people that are already infected by them are inside the radius will get cured, and has also protected people from getting attacked inside the circle .

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Kinktober Day 15: Body Worship

Pairings: Hanma x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, top/dom!reader, sub/bottom!Hanma, college AU, praise, body worship, dacryphilia, sappy fluffy moments, implied child abuse in the beginning

Prompt List by: sakuyaserenitykira 🧡

Shuji Hanma was not a man that grew up knowing love. He didn't exactly know kindness either, spending most of his days picking fights with other kids or chasing danger in order to get his daily dose of thrills. When he eventually returned home he would immediately be scolded and punished by his parents, wearing the marks of said punishments to school the next morning

This did not change as he grew older, becoming a full-time delinquent by his teenage years. Everyone that knew of Hanma either feared him, had a grudge against him, or saw him as nothing more than a nuisance, his parents included. Very little changed by the time he had enrolled in college, though he didn't care much for the classes. He preferred to spend his time at frat parties and in the beds of anyone that would allow him to be there

Until you came along, that is. The day Shuji met you changed everything. Love was not a word that he was familiar with, but with time you showed him the warmth that he had been missing all his life

One of life's greatest gifts was the opportunity to spoil your boyfriend. With his lanky body sprawled out on top of your sheets and your fingertips trailing over his pale skin, Shuji felt weightless. His mind slowly became fuzzy as whispers of adoration and soft hands roaming his body methodically lulled him into a trance

“So pretty...” You mumbled, tracing over Shuji's ribcage. Taking the time to feel each individual bone under your fingertips, trailing your hand up to rest over his heart. You were always fond of hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing within his chest, a sign that he was alive and close to you. When you cuddled with him, with your chest pressed firmly against his back, his heartbeat would sync with yours. As if the planets were all aligned, moments like those just felt so right, like this is where both of you were meant to be

A sigh left his lips as you continued mapping out his form, tracing over his collar bones next, leaning down to place a kiss just above each one. Trailing your kisses up to his neck and paying extra attention to that spot that always made him moan. Your hands found their way to his, lacing your fingers together as your teeth grazed his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin and surely leaving a mark. Shuji's back arched when you bit down, gasping softly close to your ear

Your lips rested against his pulse point for a few minutes, inhaling his scent and just enjoying this moment of silence with him. It was oddly peaceful in the dorms, with very few people passing through the halls. For this, you were thankful since it meant that there would be little left to disturb an important night such as tonight. Tonight was all about Shuji. You wanted to make him feel special, to ensure that every inch of his being received attention and love. Though he enjoyed the rough, nasty, kinky sex that you happily shared with him, sometimes he needed exceptionally tender nights like these

“I love you, Shuji. You know that?” You whispered, lifting your head up to connect your lips with his. He eagerly kissed you back, his lips moving in tandem with yours as you whispered those words again. “I love kissing these pretty lips of yours too.” You said as you deepened the kiss, letting go of his hands to reach up and cup his face, rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks. Shuji moaned into your mouth, increasing in volume when you bit his bottom lip to ask for permission. Which he happily granted you, revelling in the sensation of your tongue exploring his mouth, determined to memorize every part of him

Finally, you had to break away for air, giggling in between breaths as you rested your forehead against his for a moment. “Fuck...you taste so good too~” You breathed, the taste of your boyfriend lingering on you as you licked your lips. Shuji hummed as you peppered kisses all across his features, kissing his forehead first, then his nose, moving on to each of his cheeks, and then trailing more along his jawline. Slowly sliding your hands down the expanse of his chest as you breathed more compliments against his skin

“You have such a pretty chest, baby.” You said before attaching your mouth to one of his nipples, swirling your tongue around the sensitive bud while your hands continued down to Shuji's hips, causing him to gasp. His head tilted up while one of his hands tangled in your hair, moaning out an, “Oh shit...” when you bit his chest

Trailing your love bites to the other side of his chest, you began licking his other nipple, creating a wet mess of saliva on his skin. Your knuckles brushed against his pelvis, close enough to his member to make his stomach tighten in excitement, but not close enough to actually touch it. Shuji whined above you, squirming under your touch as you teased him

You lifted your head up to meet his gaze, chuckling when you saw that his eyes were glossy with an eager look in them. “Aw baby, did that make you excited?” You asked teasingly. Shuji exhaled a ‘yes’ as his hands grasped at the sheets, raising his hips up a bit to entice you to touch him further

“Yeah? Then let me give my baby boy what he wants~ ” You purred, spreading his legs open so that you could access his inner thighs and taking a moment to feel the sensitive flesh within your grasp. His back arched beautifully when you bit his thigh, your name softly falling from his lips

“Mm you like that, Shuji?” You asked against his thigh, gently kissing the teeth marks left there. Wrapping your hand around his length next, you slowly began stroking him, enjoying the groans of pleasure that he let out as he rolled his hips into your touch. “Mm fuck... let's give that gorgeous cock some attention, yeah? ”

Shuji's breathing increased as your deft hand movements pulled him closer to the edge, his eyes transfixed on the way your hand moved up and down his length. Hardening with every passing second, beads of precum forming at the head and dribbling down his dick all while you sucked another hickey onto his squishy thigh

You continued nipping at Shuji's skin, working your way over to his other thigh and giving it the same treatment, taking note of which areas caused him to moan louder and flinch harder when you sank your teeth in. By now, Shuji was a bit of a mess, thrusting up into your fist and drooling out of the corners of his mouth while you languidly pumped his cock. Sensing that he was getting closer to his release, you turned your full attention to his dick, licking the underside all the way up to his tip before taking the head into your mouth and sucking on it harshly. He shuddered as you did so, his mouth falling open as your tongue swirled around the head and flicked over the slit, the taste of salty precum hitting your tongue

“Oh fuck yeah... right there– ” Shuji cried, humping into your mouth while your hands stroked his shaft expertly, ripping a high-pitched moan out of him in the process. You popped off of his dick with lips coated in precum, squeezing the base of his dick as you asked him, “Gonna cum for me?” To which he desperately whimpered, “Fuck– Yes yes yes please, y/n...”

“Go ahead then, I'll swallow it all~ ” Shuji's eyes rolled back as you returned to pleasuring him, speeding up your strokes and bobbing your head a little until he released into your mouth with a loud groan, hips stuttering as his orgasm overtook him

You stayed there for a minute, holding his twitching cock in your wet mouth and slowing your strokes to milk every last bit out. Rubbing his thigh soothingly with one hand as you brought him down from his high gently, allowing him to catch his breath before you pulled off of him

Golden eyes blinked at you as you tapped his wrist, opening your mouth to show him all of the cum trapped inside, then making a show of swallowing it while he watched with tinted cheeks, chuckling at the gesture. “Thank you, babe. You tasted amazing~” You cooed, nuzzling your nose into his cheek before giving it a quick peck

He leaned into your touch as your hands traveled downwards once more, stopping at his waist. You leaned down until your breath hit his throat, “Flip over, my love. I'm not finished yet”

Tagging: @steadybreadbluebird @6kabuki

[13as07]

Little Lady #1

(Obito Uchiha)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to mocca1226]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 4,024

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Injuries/Stab Wounds/Blood

Sorry but you’re request is going to be a two-parter

———————————————————————

      "Daku?" I call for my cat after the sound of the fruit bowl getting knocked over - again - wakes me up. As I shift in bed, the feeling of my cat fast asleep on my chest is very apparent. My movements wake up Daku, making him stand up before he stretches himself out. "Daku?" I call quietly this time, panic brewing in my chest.

My cat ignores me, jumping off the bed, and strutting across the room before nuzzling my door open. "Daku?" I call again, trying to keep my panic out of it. If the cat didn't knock over the fruit bowl, what or who did?

     I stay silent, slowly crawling to the end of my bed. My eyes bounce around my room as I move, looking for any kind of weapon. My sights fall on my knitting needles poking out of the basket of yarn resting by the door. Not the best choice but still sharp and deadly with enough intent behind them.

     "Hello Kitty," a soft voice filters into my room, followed by the sound of my cabinets squeaking opening. "Is your human still asleep? I hope so. What's your name?" The imposer continues to coo over my cat, the bell on his collar ringing from being moved.

     I keep my movements slow as I climb out of my bed, inching toward my door left cracked open by Daku. I tug the needles out of the basket too, keeping a good grip on them. I continue to inch to the side, taking a peak outside my door. Limited information is better than no information in this situation.

     Sat on my kitchen floor is a man... I think? He's seated criss-cross, Daku lying in his lap enjoying the petting he's receiving. The man's shirt is off, hanging off the countertop. Random patches of pure white coats his shoulder, the same whiteness painted across his hands, and different dotting across his chest.

     I shift backward, resting against the wall as I think over what to do. What the hell? Who's in my kitchen? What's in my kitchen? Why my kitchen? Why my cat? What can I do? Wait and see what he does? There's not much to steal, so maybe he'll leave easily.

     "Come back, kitty cat," the intruder calls, Daku's bell ringing again, this time paired with footsteps.

     I take another peak around the door frame, my cat bee-lining for me with the intruder trudging after him, making me panic. I try to shoo him away, my fear growing more the closer Daku gets. Daku, being as black cat as ever, ignores me, shoving the door wider before climbing into my lap.

     I scoop him up, keeping him trapped against me as I point the sharp ends of the needles towards the burglar making his way towards us. He slowly pushes the door further open, his sights instantly locked on me. The intruder blinks slowly, cutting off the sights of his weird eyes. They're both swirled, one is purple with multiple swirls, and the other red with a single swirl and a boomerang-like symbol stamped into it. The skin surrounding the red eye covered in scars, easily fifteen to twenty scars decorating half his face. "Hello," he whispers, his voice low and husky instead of the soft cooing like before.

     "Hello," I whisper back, trying to keep my voice strong instead of shaky. I do good at disguising my voice, not so much my hands. They shake as I point my needles at the man, the tips swaying from my nerves.

     The man tilts his head a bit, eyes bouncing from the knitting needles to my face. "Do you... not have any real weapons?" He asks, the softer voice spilling out this time. What the hell is up with this voice change? A personality disorder maybe?

     "Yes, I do," I lie through my teeth, the crack in my voice causing the man to giggle.

     "I don't think you do," he continues to whisper, slowly shifting down so he's closer to my level, knees bent almost to his chest, hands on the ground to help him balance, and only an inch or two away from sitting on the floor. "I'm pretty sure you live by yourself too. A lady should be trained on self-defense if she's alone."

     "Maybe I am trained," I race out, shifting the needle position so they're pointed at his neck. His neck is also half coated in pure white... flesh? "Maybe I'm a shinobi."

     "You have terrible posture. You are not a shinobi," the deeper voice rings out, the silence left after it filled by a soft smile. "My apologies, I..." he giggles, closing his eyes as he tilts his head again, sending another smile my way. "I don't mean you any harm," he adds on, opening his eyes again, his smile less bright now. "I am a bit ill at the moment. I - demand," the deeper voice bargains in, making the man snap his mouth shut as he slowly blinks his eyes. "Apologies, again ma'am. I would appreciate medical aid and some food perhaps. Then I'll be on my way. No harm will be done to you... or your cat."

     "Medical aid?" I mutter, glancing around his bare skin. There's a lacerations littered across the man, some shallow, some deep, some on his chest, and some on his arms. All of which are leaking blood. "I... I can do that."

     "Great! What a lovely lady!" He cheers, snatching the needles from me. He looks around, tossing the needles into the yarn basket. "Let us stitch me up," he continues, scooping up Daku in one arm while he uses the other to tug me to my feet.

     I'm dragged out of my bedroom and tugged into the kitchen. What the hell is going on? Why did I agree to give this man medical attention? Because I'm a nurse and it's my job. Because I don't know what this man will do if I say no. Because I'm a flight-er, not a fighter.

     "Alright, do your thing little lady," the Intruder chirps, releasing my arm from his. He jumps onto the counter, placing Daku in his lap. My cat willingly - and happily - lays down, enjoying the belly rubs he's receiving once again.

     I stand frozen for a moment, my mind split between the situation in front of me and the items I need to patch up my intruder. Wash my hands. That's the first step. I need to wash my hands.

     My body jumps into action, moving forward, toward the sink. I quickly wash my hands, shaking them instead of wiping them off on the dish towel since I'm not sure the last time it's been washed. Pressure, clean, ointment, bandage. I repeat the steps in my head as I bend down, pulling out the box I use as a first aid kit.

     "I should have guessed that," the man mutters, pulling my attention back toward him. "One of these days I'm going to learn to check under the sink," he says to my cat, dangling Daku before setting him on the counter.

     My mind seems to be off as I start the steps, heading towards the intruder on my countertop. After setting the box down, I snap it open, taking out a good chunk of gauze to start adding pressure to one of his wounds.

     The man looks down at me, his sight intense as he watches me slowly stop the bleeding from his multiple wounds. "You're making me nervous," I whisper, dropping the blood-soaked gauze on the counter to cut off a clean chunk, three or four wounds left still trickling with blood.

     "Why are you nervous?" The man asks, his hand raising and resting on my shoulder. I jerk away from the touch, quickly blinking my eyes to try and calm myself down. "Don't do that. That's not how you treat a friend."

     "We're not friends," I whisper, lifting the gauze to check the wound.

     "Of course we are. How aren't we friends?"

     "You broke into my house. You could murder me... or worse. You don't know anything about me and I sure don't know anything about you."

     The man falls quiet, his eyes locked on me as I toss out the pile of blood-soaked gauze before I shift my attention to wetting a rag. "My name is... Obito," he mutters, stalling for a moment. "They call me Tobi at work though. I work for the Akatsuki." The confusion sends shivers down my spine, packing on another layer of fear. "Don't be scared, little lady. No harm will come to you."

     "It's hard to believe that," I whisper, turning around and slowly making my way back toward him. "You work for a terrorist group. Are you going to kill me?" The question feels heavy falling from my mouth, but it feels heavier hanging in the air. Somehow, patting the man - Obito - with the washcloth, cleaning his wounds and the blood covering his two shaded skin keeps me calm.

     "Little Lady," he coos, the same softness he used on Daku. Obito's hand settles on my shoulder again, only for a moment before it's cupping my neck. "I wish for peace in the world. Hurting someone helping me, someone not in my way, or defying me would not bring peace. Don't worry your pretty mind, Little Lady."

     That doesn't help any.

                     ————————————

     "Little Lady? Little Lady?" A voice lulls softly, slowly pulling me out of sleep. Quickly the grogginess is snapped away and replaced by fear. My body jerks, my fist flying toward the sound. "You're a lot feistier this time," the voice from last week continues to filter out, the man catching my fist. Unlike last time, my intruder's face is covered by an orange mask with a single hole, showing off his red glowing eye.

     "How has your week, Little Lady?" He asks, using his free hand to snap the mask off. My fist still in his hold is lifted, a soft kiss pressed to my knuckles before he drops my hand. "Are you going to answer my question or just keep staring?" He chuckles out, sliding off his black and red overcoat.

     My heart pounds faster as I watch him undress, the puttering slowing when his shirt is tossed to the floor, showing off the old wounds and a couple of new ones. "Um... what was your question?"

     "I asked how your week was. Wait a second though," he repeats, climbing out of my bed and leaving the room.

     What the hell? What the actual hell? Why is he back? Why is he stabbed again? Because he's a terrorist, duh. Maybe I should have reported him breaking in last week. Though, maybe that would have ended with me dead. Am I going to die this time?

     Before my fear can eat at me too much, the intruder is back, the makeshift first aid kit in his grasp along with a bowl. "Alright, now tell me about your week."

     "Umm... I didn't... do much," I whisper, feeling like a deer looking at a hunter.

     The bowl is settled on my nightstand, half full of water with a washcloth soaking in it. He climbs back into my bed, kneeling next to me as he opens the kit. "You had to have done some things. I've been gone for a full eight days. What did you do that whole time, little lady? Lay in bed? I hope not. Did I scare you that much? Don't be scared of me," he rambles, carefully laying out my supplies. "What did you do while I was away?"

     "Worked," I whisper, carefully shifting into a sitting position in my bed. What the hell? What. The. Hell. My mind spirals because of the situation. I'm still wrapped up in my bedding, pressing gauze against a terrorist's wounds as he pressures me about my week. What kind of messed up situation am I stuck in?

     "Is that all? Just work?" He asks, his fingertips gently dancing over my cheeks, occasionally sliding a piece of my hair out of the way. "You haven't done anything else?"

     "Chores," I shortly answer, laying the blood-soaked bandages on the kit lid, not wanting to stain my sheets.

     This guy can't seriously be a terrorist, can he? His voice is so soft. His touch is so gentle. He's so... giddy? I'm big into true crime, but I've never read anything about a murderer seeming so happy with life. Is it a cover personality, perhaps? Is he trying to get me to lower my guard to take what he wants from me? To kill me? If that's the case why didn't he take what he wanted last time he was here? Why wouldn't he have killed me last time he was here? I'm so confused.

     "Anything else?" He asks, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. "Anything fun? Anything for yourself? Did you hang out with any friends? Go to dinner? Do a hobby? Anything besides day-to-day things?"

     "No."

     He falls quiet, focusing on playing with the strands of my hair. At least he does until I pull away to grab the washcloth. When I fall back into place, patting at the mess of his chest, the intruder's fingertips are back dancing across my cheeks. "Little Lady?" I glance at him, opening my mouth to call back until I realize I don't remember his name. He softly chuckles, tilting down to tap his nose against mine, making me jerk away from him. "My name is Obito. Remember? It's alright if you don't. I know you're probably a bit traumatized from the start of our friendship."

     "We're not friends," I mutter, pulling away to ring out the rag and let it soak as I focus on redressing his old wounds.

     "Why aren't we friends?"

     "You broke into my house... again," I start, carefully unwrapping his old bandages. "Friends don't break into each other's houses. Friends aren't afraid of each other. Friends don't just 'hang out' when one of them needs something."

     Obito falls quiet, soft huffs coming from him as I clean and reapply bandages and ointment to his old wounds. As my focus shifts to his new wounds, he starts talking again. "Why are you scared of me?" I slowly blink as I stare at the man in front of me. He can't be this dumb, can he? What kind of terrorist is this stupid? "I haven't caused you any harm. I even brought you some money to replace the medical supplies and the food you used for me. Why are you afraid?"

     "You're a murder," I answer quietly, dropping my eyes back to his wounds. "One that keeps breaking into my house when you feel like it. Normal people would be fearful of an akatsuki member, especially one that seems to have a special interest in them."

     Again, Obito falls quiet, this time until he's fully patched up. Once I'm done working, I let my hands fall to my lap, my eyes locked on them. "Little Lady?" He calls softly, his head dipping down, positioned under mine. His nose is pressed gently against mine, eyes locked on me as he looks up at me.

     I focus on his nose. I might not know the deal with his eyes, but I'm smart enough not to look into them. The dumbest person is smart enough not to look into the unnatural eyes of any person, much less an akatsuki member.

     "As long as you don't plan to attack me, I won't attack you, alright? You don't seem to be an obstacle to my plans of peace, which means I have no reason to hurt you. After all," He starts, slowly pulling away, his voice a lot more pippy this time. "A good nurse is hard to come by. Stop filling your pretty mind with worry."

     Obito climbs off the mattress, leaving me alone in the bed. My eyes stay locked on my blankets, listening to the sound of him moving around. The sound pulls Daku awake, him yawning, and the sound of his bell being added to the room. "Hello Kitty, it's nice to see you again," the intruder coos, walking across the room to pay attention to my cat. "Come on, cat. Let's go get your mom and me some food. Yes, yes, yes. Cookies and milk will be a nice snack for us."

     Once he's out of the room, I flop back onto the bed, stretching out under the blankets. A long shaky sigh spills from me as I snap my eyes closed, enjoying the fake peace I have got for a few moments. What the hell is the deal with this guy? Why can't he just leave me alone? Why is he so obsessed with my cat?

     Soon, my cat races into the room, the black ball of fur jumping onto the bed before prancing around my blankets. "Hey Daku," I coo, patting the spot next to me. He curls up for a moment, eyes wide as he watches my hand move before he pounces towards me. "Silly kitty," I giggle, turning on my side to wrap my pet into my arms.

     I cuddle up with Daku, pressing him to my chest as I curl us into a ball. What am I going to do? Tell the Kazekage? Will he be able to handle it? To protect me? Is this situation worth bothering my Lord about? Would I get in trouble for helping a terrorist? I shouldn't get in trouble, my life is in danger, anyone would have helped with death was hanging over their head. My Lord would understand that, right? Maybe, maybe not. I just don't know.

     "Little Lady?" Obito calls, pulling me out of my thoughts and shooting fresh fear up my spine again. I slowly open my eyes, being met with a smiling terrorist balancing a plate of cookies and two cups of milk. "As we enjoy our treat, I think we should discuss a few things."

     "What might those things be?" I ask, snapping my eyes closed and holding Daku closer to me.

     "I think I should apologize for constantly breaking in. We should discuss me sending messages before I appear. Perhaps we should discuss going to lunch together soon."

     "Why would we do that?"

     "You said friends hang out to just hang out and you're scared of me. I am not being a good friend. I want to be a good friend to you and I want you to not be scared. The more you get to know me the less scared you will be. Besides, I want to get to know you better too."

     I don't believe that is true but I'm not exactly in the position to tell him no, am I? "Alright," I whisper, shifting to sit up again, Daku a bit pissy but settling into my lap once I'm done moving.

     "Wonderful!" Obito cheers, setting the cookies on the bed and handing me one of the glasses of milk before carefully climbing back into the bed.

                    ————————————

     The envelope taped to my door is the first thing to snag my attention as I approach my house. The second thing to catch my attention is the black woven basket on my welcome mat. My fear is sparked as I approach my door, some of it subsiding as I kneel to look at the basket.

     A black bow with red clouds similar to Obito's robe is tied at the top of the basket, keeping the clear plastic - holding everything together - in place. In the basket are quite a few different things; candies, cookies, a bag of catnip, a few mouse toys for Daku, bath bubbles and salts, what I think is perfume, a plushy raven, and a slim black box.

     Maybe he's a stalker. Maybe that's why I can't seem to shake the akatsuki member off of me. That's great. I have a terrorist stalking me and demanding medical attention and friendship. However, there are a lot worse things he could be demanding from me. Maybe I should talk to the Kazekage. Maybe I should just pack Daku and me up, and make a run for it. I don't think that's going to work very well though.

     I pick the basket up as I stand, my focus shifting to the envelope on my door. The envelope is black like the basket, but it's a cloudy black with deep red writing on the front. I sigh as I glance over the neat letters. L - I - T - T - L - E, L - A - D - Y.

     I tug it off the door, turning it over to be met with more fanciness. A matching red wax seal is stamped into the folds of the paper, and a feather design is stamped into the wax. I roll my eyes, deciding to set the basket down to open the letter from my stalker. The paper is as high-class as the envelope, thick black stationary paper, bordered with red designs of more feathers. The same thick red ink coats the pages of the letter.

     Little Lady (and Daku),

     I want to thank you again for the medical attention you have given me. I am very grateful for it and for you inviting me into your home. Well, you didn't invite me in but I am grateful you didn't stab me with your knitting needles. It wouldn't have done much but it would have hurt.

     Again, I want to apologize for making you fearful of me. I want to remind you that I don't plan to cause you - or Daku - any harm. Please keep reminding yourself of that as well.

     Now that my formality is done I want to explain my gifts to you. The cookies and candies are obvious. I wanted to replace the cookies I ate the other day and I noticed you didn't have many snacks so I got you a few to hold you over until my next visit.

     I also got some presents for Daku. Catnip and mouse toys that you can put the catnip into. I figured the toys could help you control how much nip he's exposed to. I have been thinking, and I'm not sure you have a secure place to hide the kitty drugs. Next time I am over I'll bring you a jar to hide it in.

     I'm excited about our lunch together next week so I got you some smell nice things. I wasn't sure if you preferred bubble baths or salt baths so I got both. When you write me back, let me know which one you prefer, please.

     The spray bottle of liquid is ~not~ perfume. Do not use it on yourself. It's chloroform, it will knock you and anyone else out. Do ~not~ inhale it or leave it somewhere that Daku can knock it over. You do not have the means to protect yourself so keep the bottle on you, especially with me constantly appearing at your home.

     As for the box, it's a small pocket knife. Keep it on your person at all times as well. When you sleep keep it under your pillow. Again, you cant protect yourself so this shall help until I come up with a better plan. Hopefully, it'll help you feel less fearful for me as well, Little Lady.

     Lastly, the crow is gifted just because it's cute and I hope it reminds you of me. Remember to do something fun for yourself. I cannot wait to receive your response letter and to see you for our lunch date. It'll be nice to see you in the light of the day.

     Until Next Time,

     Obito

     I let out another sigh, glancing around the street. At least my stalker has a sense of protection... I guess. Plus, I guess I know he doesn't mean any harm now. Or maybe he gets joy out of giving his pray the means to attempt to protect themselves. What a mess I'm stuck in.

———————————————————————

[moonferry]

gwuh the brain worms are back. sorry. have another domestic harvey drabble. this ones all fluff ! no angst this time <3

name: mornings like these

pairing: harvey x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 756

warnings: none! just harvey and the farmer being lovey and domestic

you were currently busy making breakfast for your husband - who was still asleep. quite unusual, since he is the one who usually handles breakfast, but you decided to get up extra early to surprise him. 

of course, this didn’t change the fact that you weren’t - and never were - the cleanest person ever. the entire kitchen was a mess of pancake batter and anything else you used when cooking. you didn;t seem to notice though, as you were too busy using the whisk as a microphone - singing along to the song that played through the small jukebox that gus had gifted you. 

you continued to have your mini-solo, dancing around the farmhouse kitchen while you waited for the pancake to be ready to flip. 

soon enough, you heard some shuffling down the hallway. your loving husband, harvey, must finally be awake. you quickly make your way back to the stove and busy yourself by covering the surprise. 

harvey wraps his arms around your waist. he buries his face into the crook of your neck - which was quite hard, considering he had at least a few inches (or maybe a foot, you couldn’t quite remember) of height over you. 

you smiled and leaned back against him. “good morning, love,” you said, barely glancing up from what you were doing. 

harvey made a sort of sleepy, mumbled reply and buried his face deeper into your neck. He placed a few gentle kisses on your collar bone, the feeling of his mustache brushing against your exposed shoulder making you giggle. 

“well, i made you breakfast,” you hum. you survey the very messy kitchen and shake your head, “i tried to, anyway. I made some coffee, though.” you turn around and present him with a nice, warm mug before joking, “coffee is something even i can’t mess up.” 

he chuckles and you feel the sound filling up your heart. If you could have bottled that sound up and listened to it over and over, you definitely would. he takes the mug from your hand and smiles down at you. 

“I appreciate it, baby.” he says, the rasp in his just-woken-up voice seeping into the air around him. he then takes a look around the kitchen and gives another chuckle, “even if you did destroy our kitchen in the process.” 

“hey!” you whine, a small pout forming across your lips, “i can easily take your coffee back. AND eat this entire breakfast myself.” 

harvey puts his hands up in mock defeat. “you’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, setting his mug down on the nearest counter. once he does this, he wraps his arms back around your waist, “i do appreciate it, though.” 

your pout disappears and you glance up at him with a wide smile. you reach a hand up and run it through his still very messy bed head. he leans his head into your palm and closes his eyes - much like a cat would do. honestly, you’re not entirely convinced he didn’t start purring once you did this. 

the two of you stay like this for a while, just enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. and then, of course, you remember the breakfast and harvey’s coffee that is currently getting cold on the counter. 

“harv, our breakfast is getting cold..” you remind him, gently nudging his arm to wake him out of his stupor. 

he just smiles and pulls you closer to him, resting his head on top of yours. “let it get cold. i’m enjoying this time with you.” 

the breakfast went forgotten as you and harvey continued to hug in the small farmhouse kitchen. the jukebox soon switches to a different song - one that was much slower - and harvey, being ever the romantic he is (or he tries to be), he takes your hands and the two of you begin to dance around the room. 

maybe it’s okay that the breakfast is getting cold, after all it’s not many mornings you get to slow dance in your kitchen, still in your pajamas. or maybe there are, who knows? being married to harvey is always full of surprises - even if he insists he isn’t the “most exciting” guy. 

you don’t need excitement - you have enough excitement for the both of you at skull cavern. you don’t need him to be exciting, you just need him to be harvey. a small, content smile spreads across your face as you lay your head down on his chest and just let the music move the two of you.

AN: i've had worms in my brain for a month. i love this doctor man sooo much. also i MAY write a.. different version of this fic teehee. if y'all want it, ill add a link to the ao3 posting once i finish it.

update here's the link. to the other version.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Derek or Spence or Luke having a secret boyfriend and the team finds out cause reader shows up to the office cause D/S/L forgot his bag at reader's place

(the squirrel is important for towards the end of the fic, spoiler alert lol)

I answered this then was like 'wait need to change something!' So hit discard and then couldn't find it for a minute and thought I had accidentally deleted the ask, it was a whole whirlwind lol. Also, this might be a bit cliche but like I really like it anyway lol

Warnings: insecure Luke, Luke's a bit ooc?

Word count: 1100

You hadn’t been dating for long, just a few months, but it had been an amazing few months. You had met at a bar, both slightly intoxicated, and had switched numbers and began to chat. This continued whilst sober. After a month of talking, you had asked him out (on a date) and you had had the best time. Three days later, you had your second date and he had taken you back to his place and introduced you to a very special someone, Roxy. Roxy loved you right off the bat. When he had gotten to know you better, he would let you stay at his until he got back from a case. He trusted you to look after his apartment (and Roxy). He would also let you stay around if he had to go to work while you were at his place. The best part about Luke’s day was coming home and seeing you.

You sighed as you pottered through the apartment, before sitting down on the couch with another sigh. Roxy looked up before shifting forward and resting her head in your lap. You gave a small smile, petting her head softly. A black rucksack caught your eye by the door and you swear quietly, gently placing Roxy's head on the cushion, apologising to her as you do. Rushing towards it you grab it, quickly checking through the bag to make sure he had packed a lunch. You sighed, seeing he hadn't and you began to make one, before carefully placing it in his bag. You also grabbed two waters from the fridge before you head out of the door, keys in hand as you tell Roxy that you'll be back as soon as you can.

Luke made his way to his desk, reaching to take his rucksack off, only to realise it was not there. Luke groaned, turning to the elevator, ready to head back to the apartment, when the doors opened, revealing you with his bag in hand. Seeing Luke, you gave a wave with the bag clutched tightly in your hand. Luke waved back, finding himself smiling, loving the way your face lit up.

"Who's the handsome hunk?" Penelope asked, approaching Luke.

"My boyfriend," Luke answered, blushing.

"Really?" Garcia found herself asking, "Two alpha males in a relationship. The arguments must get heated."

"We wouldn't know," Luke said, "We've never fought,"

"No fights?"

Luke shook his head, "Nope."

Garcia looked at you, fair skin, pale blue eyes, dark brown hair, you were tall. Taller than Luke, standing at six foot four, a whole four inches taller than the other man. Tattoos covered your arms and hands in a variety of images, a few peaking from underneath the collar of your t-shirt. You approached Luke, smile getting wider with each step.

"You left this," You said, holding the rucksack up. Luke looked up at you, blushing softly. "You also forgot to grab some lunch, I packed some for you, also grabbed you a drink." You made sure to speak quietly, not wanting to embarrass Luke at work.

Luke gave you a wide smile, "Thank you." He said softly, “Did you want to meet the team?” You nodded, smiling widely when Luke beamed, gently taking your hand, pulling you closer to the rest of the team. You were stood behind Luke, arms wrapped around his waist, resting your cheek on his head. Luke’s hands sat on top of yours, gently interlocking your fingers. You pressed a soft kiss to his hairline. This drew the team’s attention to you both. “This is my boyfriend, (Y/N).” Luke said, feeling himself flush under the attention.

“Hi, nice to meet you all,” You said, you smile as the team introduce themselves one by one. “I’ve heard a lot about you all. Luke speaks very highly of this team.”

“Babe…” Luke said quietly, ducking his head.

“What? I think it’s endearing,” You said, “Shows you’re passionate about what you do.”

“So, what do you do?” Penelope asked, “What job do you do, Mr (Y/N)?”

“I’m an artist,” You say hesitantly, “But I also work at a coffee shop,”

Garcia, Tara, Emily, and JJ all let out an ‘oooo’, you laugh nervously, the tips of your ears turning pink. Luke grinned, “He’s shy about his work,” He said, “But his art is really good, if he’d be okay with it, you should see some of it,”

“What medium do you use?” Matt asked.

“Bullpoint pen mainly, I’m a fan of how the ink looks on paper.”

“What sort of things do you draw?”

You shrug, “Just stuff,”

“Stuff?”

You shrug again, “Stuff? I don’t really know how to explain it,”

Luke looked up at you, smiling, “You could show them,” He said, eyeing your tattoos.

You rolled your eyes at him with a smirk, “Nice and subtle, love,” You laughed, Luke snorted.

“Are we missing something?” Spencer asked quietly.

“He designed and drew all of his tattoos,”

Penelope’s eyes widened, “All of them?!”

“Yep,” Luke said with a nod and a proud smile.

“Actually…” You said, carefully removing your arms from Luke. “All but one,”

Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he turned to you, “What? I’m pretty sure you designed them all,”

“I got a new one while you were on your last case.” You said, “I didn’t plan on telling you like this,” You laugh nervously, before looking back up at Luke. You pulled down the collar of your t-shirt, revealing a tattoo beginning to scab over, a tiny (slightly shaky) sketch of a squirrel.

“That’s my-” Luke commented in shock, pointing at it.

“Yep,” You said with a nod, you falter, unable to read his emotion. “Oh god, you hate it, don’t you?”

“I- I just can’t believe you’d do this for me…” You frown.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m- And you’re-” Luke tried to desperately explain before sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. You grabbed his elbow lightly, letting your grip trail along his arm to his wrist. Luke let you guide him to the round table room, shutting the door gently behind you, you turned back to him.

You notice his eyebrows drawn together, the panic evident on his face. “Hey, hey,” You said softly, placing your hands on his cheeks, “Talk to me,”

“Why would you want something that I drew on there- on your body?” Luke asked, "It's on there forever, what if we break up?"

“Because I care about you and you're the best thing that's happened to me,” Your answer is immediate. "And I want to be reminded of that forever,"

[moonsplit]

hello! absolutely loved the one you wrote about Toasty from Blooming Panic with a really short s/o, and it got me wondering… what if they were with someone taller than for a change? would love it if you could write something for it too, thanks !

✰ The Universe in Your Hands ✰

pairingミ☆ nakedtoaster x tall ass!gn!reader word count ミ☆ 485 tagsミ☆ height differences (not as severe as the short!reader), they/he toasty, toasty's easily flustered, short (<500 words)

notes ミ☆ we NEED more people who can rival toasty's height in the world purely to fluster them. <33

Much like if you tell him you’re tiny, when you warn him you’re tall

He really doesn’t expect the real extent of it

Plenty of tall people are shorter than him

Again: it comes with the territory of being 6’4

They expected you to end up being an inch or two shorter, still plenty tall by normal standards, and able to look them in the eye without tilting your head or anything

They were absolutely not expecting you to have a few inches on them

They were the one to look up, even if only slightly, and that angle was one they weren’t used to 

Or, one they hadn’t been used to since they were a kid looking up at teenagers and adults

He got flustered when you first met

Not knowing how to navigate the situation in the slightest

He got used to it after a while, but it was still so... odd?

When you cup his cheeks ever-so-gently and tilt his head up to kiss him he dies

Especially if you pull the "I have the universe in my hands" bit

Like actually, the moment that kiss is broken he nervous-laughs and tries to hide his face

Which is actually why you started cupping his cheeks like that in the first place

It's significantly harder for him to hide his face when your hands are there than it is if you were holding him by the waist

They find they actually love not having to awkwardly lean down or sit on the ground for you to do their hair

It's nice that their back isn't aching from leaning down for you

They really learn a lot about themselves and others in this because

They don't often interact with people who are taller than them

He can lean over and rest his head on your shoulder when he's tired no problem

Heaven forbid you wear platforms or heels though

One day when you are he actually decides to try and see what the fuss was about yanking tall partners down by their collar

He's been yanked like that before, and was mildly curious what it was like to be on the other end

If you got really flustered, they found it adorable

If not, it was still something that made you both snort or giggle, or even laugh

They wouldn't go out of their way to do it very often, but it was a nice movement when they did

Not his favorite form of affection, he still preferred giving you little gifts and your hands in his hair

Still, there was something to be said for the little blush you got when he pulled you down

Your height difference was a fascination of his for a long time

Something he'll either adamantly deny or freely admit

Like I said: he's not used to being shorter, so the territory that came with was all new

And a little terrifying

But because it was you, it was also exciting

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 16: Blindfold Kink with Nancy Wheeler

Pairing: Nancy Wheeler X Fem!Reader Word Count: 1070 Warnings: Blindfold, Vaginal fingering (R receiving), Pet names, Dom!Nancy, Praise kink (General vibe and one Good Girl at the end).

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

The room was warm as the air moved slowly through the space heater you knew was in the corner.

It was a good thing, seeing as you were currently strapped to your bed by the ankles and wrists, completely naked.

Well, maybe not completely naked. You did have on a blindfold, little strip of black fabric maybe an inch or two wide.

This was Nancy’s idea.

She was worried about how hard a time you were having getting out of your head when you two were together, and she figured if you couldn’t see what she was going to do next, you couldn’t worry about how you looked or what you sounded like.

The restraints were just for the hell of it.

So far, it seems like she was right, but she hadn’t done anything other than tie you down yet.

You felt the air shift and the quiet sound of her bare feet on the carpet as she walked around the bed, coming from the foot to stand next to you.

Then the blanket shifted to your right, a weight on it that felt like she might have knelt and was resting her arms on the covers. “Comfortable? Anything hurt?” She asked softly, face much closer than you thought, maybe she was leaning over you?

“Yeah…” You answered softly, not wanting to be too loud so close to her face.

“Good. Let me know if that changes.” She ordered before pressing her soft lips to yours, then as quickly as she appeared out of darkness, she returned to it with only the soft shuffle on the carpet.

“Nance?” You called into the air, tilting your head to try and hear anything, even a breath.

“Over here, Honey.” She said softly from your left, where you knew your dresser to be, and where the box of toys was put before she had you strip. “I’m just getting a couple things.” She assured before moving back to your bedside.

“Don’t go far, okay?” You said, voice small as you flushed with embarrassment, feeling too needy.

She hummed and you could picture her fond smile, pretty curls brushing her cheek as she tilted her head. “Of course not, I’m right here.” She promised before you felt her weight settle on the bed, seemingly crawling toward you.

Your body shivered with anticipation, till you felt her hand drift up your leg from your knee, then you shivered for a wholly different reason.

“Nance…” You sighed, head falling back against the pillow. She hadn’t even touched your pussy yet, but you felt like your skin was on fire. Her hand felt like warm silk as her palm skirted along your skin to grip lightly at the flesh.

She shushed you as she leaned in, pressing a kiss to your tummy, then your sternum, the valley of your breasts, your collar bones.

Every one light as a feather but searing hot.

A gasp left your lips as she dragged her nails up your leg and over your hip, the rough sting sending goose bumps erupting across your skin, then she slid her palm back along the path to soothe the heat that bloomed. There were red marks for sure.

“Stay still for me.” She ordered before she was moving.

You gave her the best ‘Like I have a choice?’ look you could muster with the fabric over your eyes, and earned a giggle for your efforts.

You felt her settle between your spread legs, it felt like she was laying on her belly and that thought had you clenching around nothing. The very concept of Nancy eating your pussy was more enough to get you going, hell the thought of eating hers was enough to get you going.

Before you could think any further on it, the heat of her tongue lapped at you from bottom to top, where she flicked at your clit once, twice, three times before giving a light suck.

It took active effort not to buck up against into her touch, always desperate for more of whatever she deems you worthy of.

The sharp sting of her palm against the meat of your thigh jolted you from your thoughts. “Stop thinking.” She ordered simply, there was no sharpness in her tone, but you could picture the softly reprimanding look on her face, made far too sexy by the fact she’s looking at you from between your legs, lips probably wet with your slick.

“Right…! Sorry…” You managed, breaths a little heavy.

“It’s okay.” She assured. “Just try to focus on what you’re feeling, okay?” she asked, but before you could answer her lips were right back on your clit, her fingertips gliding up and down your lips slowly, teasingly.

“Shit…Nancy…” You whined, wanting more but not willing to say it outright.

“Hmm?” She hummed, and you knew her brows were raised expectantly, all false innocence.

“Please…” You begged, trying to press against her fingers.

“I should make you say it…” She mused, slightly muffled by the fact she hadn’t taken her face fully off you. “But you’re doing so good, so I’ll let it slide…” Then she was pressing those two perfectly manicured fingers into your waiting cunt.

The whine you let out would normally have you feeling humiliated, but all that existed was Nancy and how she was making you feel, the reason you felt embarrassed felt so far away and pointless.

And when she curled her fingers and brushed against your G-spot with precision, then proceeded to absolutely bully it while swirling her tongue around your clit.

Your body shook as your muscles drew tighter and tighter; a coiled spring ready to pop. You could feel the heat of her eyes watching you, the sense of a smug gleam making your skin tingle.

She hummed in a single sustained rhythm, and it was like she turned the frequency dial of your body just right as the coil you’d twisted into snapped.

You cried out a mix of gibberish and her name as your body shook, her ministrations not stopping but only slowing a little, lest she overstimulate you too much too soon.

Once you’d settled, she crawled her way up your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses as she went.

“Good girl, Sweety.” She whispered before kissing you, allowing you to taste yourself on her soft lips, they were probably all pink now. “Got anymore in you?”

“Please…?”

[lorwolfofficial]

Spring tidings, Lorfolk! Spring arrives, and the swamp blossoms to life in Loria. There’s much to unpack here in this Dev Update, so let’s dive in together.

What's new?

New Direwolf Breed

Murkwood Seasonal Event

New Content

Breed Showcase - Direwolf

Description: The Direwolf breed is a relic of the past. Once hailed as Luana’s Warriors, modern Direwolves have now spread out further than just their native home of Murkwood. They are a large breed with dense wiry fur more akin to a Colpach’s pelt than other Loria breeds. They typically weigh between 95 to 140 pounds and stand 36 to 44 inches tall at the shoulder. They have a noticeably short tail, a large maw with equally huge teeth, and a powerful, heavy set of shoulders, which allows them to throw their entire weight on their foes, crushing them with both tooth and body. Their bite sports an array of deadly bacteria, making even just a graze enough to cause serious harm.

Behavior: Direwolves prefer to hunt alone, stalking their prey before rushing them in one fell swoop. Whilst they can be aloof, they have a soft spot for those who prove themselves in battle. With their focused and loyal personality, they make an impressive sparring partner. They have become accustomed to teaching other Lorwolves their ways and skills in modern times rather than remaining totally outcast from others.

Direwolves have long since stopped being Luana’s Warriors, but when push comes to shove, Direwolves can call upon their roots and go into a battle frenzy. Power will course through them, buffing their already powerful abilities beyond their limits. After calling upon this power, a Direwolf will need to rest for several days. Direwolves can often be found sunning themselves on hot rocks or by fires after a particularly rough fight.

Check out our Direwolf Launch Raffle to enter the draw for a chance to win a Direwolf Breed Change.

Spring, swamp and skirmishes are the very essence of Murkwood. A red hue has overtaken Loria. With that, the Murkwood Seasonal Event has begun! New apparel, new companions, Murkwood’s Consumed and new forum decor. Check out the lore page of Murkwood’s encounter with The Consumed here and the entire event post here.

Leopard and Plain Patterns

As requested by Lorfolk feedback, the Plain pattern has arrived to let your wolves' natural bases shine. Create more unique combinations to get your wolves precisely the way you want them. You can purchase these patterns at the Mole Market for 20k pebbles.

Quillaras, Apparel, and Totem of Whelping

They're dainty-looking, yet they have a glare meaner than an angry Nytha. Don’t fall too much for their cuteness; they’ll happily take a bite if you rub them the wrong way. These grumpy little fluffballs are available in the Mole Market for 100ms.

Totem of Whelping

Lorfolk can now purchase a Totem of Whelping speciality item from the Mole Market, which bypasses the pregnancy cooldown and triggers birth immediately. The Totem of Whelping can be used via a player's inventory; simply select the item and click "Use." Players will then select the expecting wolf they wish to give birth, which will then immediately send the wolf to the Nest. From the nest, you can then click “Give Birth.”

New Apparel

Are teeth and claws not enough to show how fearsome you are? Get tough with the brand-new Spiked Collar apparel. Spiked Collars recipes are available in the Mole Market to purchase.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnilingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: This took fucking FOREVER to type. Y'all know how much time smut AND action sequences take?? Please be nice to me. -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*********

EIGHTEEN.

Aizawa waits for you that night at the opera, and you appear out of the darkness to meet him. 

Literally. You’ve been hiding in the shadows of the alleyway across the street for nearly fifteen minutes after shifting out of your cat form.

You watch him now from the alleyway, anxiety mingled with arousal in your body at the sight of him. He looks absolutely scrumptious in his fly-ass black Armani suit, red bottom shoes, and low ponytail as he leans against the wall, one foot up and scanning the streets. He fits right in with the gaudy, wealthy folks that pull up to the theatre in their expensive cars. 

You hope to fit in with the crowd too, especially since you’re undercover. You look into the window of the shop you stand beside, the woman reflecting back at you looking nothing like you. She wears a slim red dress that highlights her complexion and gives the illusion of an hourglass shape.

The push-up bra she wears allows her breasts to sit perfectly in the sweetheart bosom of the dress, the rest of it sleeveless. Her braids are pulled back in a carefully-braided French braid that exposes her dangling gold earrings, matching choker, and glamorous makeup–dark eyeshadow; blush; red lipstick.

She made sure to disguise herself as much as possible. She stands tall in her pumps that are hidden under the floor-length skirts that she has to hold up in order to walk. 

She looks sexy; alluring; classy. Like an old movie star or a model straight out of the 1950s. And she’s you. Just like that, the fight earlier with Nemuri leaves your mind and all you can think about is tonight. 

After taking a deep exhale and saying a quiet pep talk in your head, you take a handful of your dress and strut across the street once it is safe to do so. You don’t stop or pause in fear of changing your mind or letting your anxiety get the best of you. You keep your eyes firmly on Aizawa and your mind on the mission. When Aizawa sees you, his eyes widen an inch. They skate down your body and up and down, taking in every feature of you.

“Wow,” he exhales. 

Your heart slows somewhat at the sound of his voice and the astonishment in his gaze. ”Well, that definitely calms my nerves,” you giggle, poking his chest with your clutch. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Already, you feel the anxiety you felt earlier leave you. 

Aizawa goes to say more, possibly something dirty, but stops, his face looking incredibly irked. “Hang on,” he grumbles. He presses against his ear where an earpiece sits, noticeable to only you.

“Yeah?” he curtly asks the person in his ear. “Yeah, I just got here. The show hasn’t started yet, so I don’t think he’s inside yet, but I’ll check.” He takes his fingers off of his ear and tiredly sighs. “Sorry. Damn cops keep buggin’ me about our target.” 

That anxiety that comes from reality comes rising back within you. You nearly forgot that you aren’t here for a regular date. “They don’t know I’m here too?” you ask. 

“No, but you can talk freely,” Aizawa replies. They can only hear me when I press the button on my earpiece.” He pauses to check his watch, pulling back his suit sleeve to do so. “The show doesn’t start for another twenty minutes so we have time to plan everything. Come on.” He presents you with his elbow and you take it, placing your hand on his arm. 

He escorts you towards the cherrywood double doors of the theatre where a line has already formed near the ticket booths. All you see are people in the most expensive of gowns and designer suits, dripping in finery and wealth.

With Aizawa by your side, so calm and collected, you feel as if you could fit in, at least for tonight. You can play the part well if it means completing this mission. When you and Aizawa finally arrive at the booth, you’re all smiles with your back straight and shoulders squared. 

“Good evening!” the young man at the booth cheerfully says. “How can I help you?” 

“Two tickets, please,” Aizawa replies, barely cracking a smile.

The young man luckily doesn’t take fear as Aizawa pulls his credit card out of his pocket and hands it over to the young man who completes the transaction. “Enjoy the show!” He chirps as he hands Aizawa two tickets. You give him a grateful smile before Aizawa whisks you away towards the theatre. 

There are several entrances into the theatre depending on which floor one is on, and each one has people flooding in. You try to get a quick look at each person’s face or demeanor, searching for something that makes you feel slightly off or unnatural.

You don't realize that you are gripping Aizawa’s arm until he visibly winches. You look down, finding your claws digging into his suit jacket and possibly scratching his skin. “I’m so sorry!” you gasp, horrified at yourself. You quickly let go of him and retract your claws, furious at yourself for acting so paranoid. 

Aizawa peers down at you, his brows furrowed in concern. “You okay, kitty?” he worriedly murmurs to you. You plaster on a reassuring smile, hoping he doesn't see through you. “I’m fine!” you squeak out. “Just…I’ve never been to an opera before. Or around all these rich folks.” 

But that doesn’t fool him for a second. “That ain’t it,” he grumbles, turning around to fully face you. You lower your head in shame, knowing damn well trying to lie was a foolish idea. “You nervous about tonight?” he softly asks. “Y/N, if you don’t want to do this, you know you can–” 

“No,” you firmly respond, fixing your eyes up at him. “I’m not leaving. You didn’t have to let me come along tonight, but you did. The least I can do is see this through.”

The worry in Aizawa’s eyes only makes you feel worse. You don’t want to disappoint him or make him feel as if you’re not fit for this, but you also don't want to deceive him any more than you already have. The least you can do is tell him how you feel. 

Embarrassment blooms inside of you, making you flush in your pretty gown. “I just don’t wanna fuck up,” you softly confess. “I wanna be good for you.” You feel weak; useless. You wither like a pretty, red flower, feeling oh-so horrible in your dress. 

Aizawa suddenly takes your hand and you see an intensity in his charcoal eyes. “Come here,” he demands, already snatching you off to the side. “Where there are no eyes.”

You have no choice but to follow him as he leads you away from the doorway to the theatre and down an empty hall. You’re breathing heavily, your calves aching to catch up with his long strides. “Where are we going, Shouta?” you demand, utterly confused. “What if the villain is here?” 

“Even if he is, he won’t attack until the show starts and the lights are off,” he replies, still focused on moving. “It’s called ‘the element of surprise’.”

He suddenly pauses and you nearly crash into him. You watch as he pushes open the door to an empty inclusive bathroom. “In here,” he mutters, holding the door open for you. Though you’re still confused, you tip-toe into the bathroom anyway, your cat eyes adjusting to the dark shapes of the bathroom sinks and stalls. 

You turn to Aizawa to ask him what the hell is going on, but the intensity in his eyes has begun to grow and it leaves you silent. He takes off his jacket and hangs it over the sink counter before popping two buttons to his crisp shirt, revealing his strong neck and bobbing Adam’s Apple. “We’ve got seventeen minutes until the show starts, which gives you just enough time to cum all over my face.”

You blink at him, perplexed. What the fuck did he just say? “W-What?” you stammer. 

He begins to walk toward you like a predator stalking its prey, causing you to walk backward until you hit the sink counter. He traps you between his arms and the counter, giving you the illusion that you have no place to run or ride. It’s so fucking hot. 

“You’re in your head,” he explains, “which will make it a lot harder to go through with this mission. If you’re gonna work with me, kitty, then you need to trust yourself and clear your mind.” He gives you a crooked, lustful smirk. “I’m here for that.”

Before you can protest or even take a breath, he yanks you into his arms and envelopes your mouth in a toe-curling, mind-blowing kiss. As his soft lips move against yours, one hand grips the back of your neck while the other palms at your ass in your dress, squeezing and needing the soft globes of flesh. “Shouta,” you sigh, grappling for his collar. 

Aizawa takes that moment to begin kissing your neck and shoulders, his lips touching every single sensitive bit part of you. “Tell me you want this,” he hoarsely tells you as his lips caress every part of your naked skin. “Tell me you want me to clear your head.”

His fingers glide under your dress to slip between your lips, touching your now-aching pussy through your panties. “Yes, Shouta,” you moan. “Please…just please do something!” 

You don’t care what he does to you. You just want him to take care of you. Aizawa wastes no time pulling you over to the sink and bending you over, his big hands on your hips. You softly moan as he does so, this dominant side of him turning you on heavily. You press your hands against the cool counter of the sink, your breathing labored and your heart pounding.

You feel his calloused fingers glide up the hem of your gown as he pulls it up over your hips. “Thank God for the slit here,” he growls. “Makes my life a whole lot easier.” 

His fingers then loop through the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your shaky legs. He doesn’t waste any time–his wet kisses are immediately planted all over your inner thighs and pussy lips as his hands begin to massage your ass.

You moan at the feeling, biting your lip to avoid getting any louder. The last thing you need is someone coming in here and seeing you…though the thought of it makes you wetter. Aizawa comments on it as his fingers glide over your slit, hissing quietly at the wetness he finds there. “You’re soaked already,” he groans. “What I wouldn’t give to fuck this wet, little pussy right now.” 

You whimper at his dirty words and close your eyes, already picturing him fucking you while you’re bent over the sink counter, completely vulnerable and open for him. “But we’ll have time for that later,” Aizawa softly murmurs before his face is planted in your ass and his tongue is gliding along your pussy. He takes his sweet time despite there being a very important mission, his tongue swirling along your clit and your slit. 

You moan and grind your hips back into his mouth, your mouth wide open as the pleasure explodes all over you. “Fuck, Sho, baby,” you whine, gripping the counter. “You’re so…so good!”

He moans into your pussy, occupying his tongue in your pussy while his fingers begin to rub soft circles around your clit. His soft touch nearly sends you into orbit. 

And though this feeling is good and amazing, it only does so much to curb your anxiety. No matter how good Aizawa’s mouth and fingers are, those intrusive thoughts about tonight come rushing back to you.

Thoughts of whether or not you’ll be good enough; if you’ll be able to keep up with Aizawa; if you’ll end up hurt or possibly dead. They propel you into a dark hole, farther and farther away from the pleasure and tender, loving care you’re receiving now. 

“You’re tense,” Aizawa murmurs from behind you. His hand moves to stroke your ass soothingly. “Relax, kitty. I’m here with you.” His hand then moves up your back, stroking it slowly. His fingers feel heavenly. “You don’t have to think about anything but what you’re feeling right now.” 

You flush, feeling guilty for your emotions. Here this man is, on his knees on a dirty bathroom floor and working his jaw like it’s his duty, doing everything he can to make you feel better. And yet, you just can't get out of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly say. “I just…I’m just scared.” You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “Please continue. Don’t stop.” 

But Aizawa doesn’t touch you. Instead, he stands and you can feel him behind you. “You’re still shaking though,” he comments, his voice deep and blunt.

You flush with embarrassment, hating your body for betraying you. Now he’s going to stop and lecture you for being too insecure in your skills and abilities. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the dam of tears from breaking and flooding behind your eye sockets. 

“Turn around,” he orders, firmly but softly. You slowly do so, your eyes still closed. His hand touches your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. You slowly open your eyes to stare into the worried, charcoal pools staring down at you.

“I wanna do something for you to help, but I need you to be absolutely sure about it before you say yes. I know we’ve only been intimate for a short while, but I think this could help relax your body and your mind.” 

You blink at him, confused yet intrigued. “What did you have in mind?” you question. He continues to stroke your cheek, the feeling soothing you already, though he looks almost uncertain about his idea. His lips are drawn into a tight line and he seems like he’s in his own head.

But before you can ask what’s up, he drops his hand from his cheek and takes his suit jacket from the sink. There, he retrieves his scarves and turns to you. Even in the darkness, you feel the intensity of his gaze on you. 

“I’m gonna be upfront with you,” he bluntly says. “I’d like to tie your wrists and ankles with these, but only those. Restricting your limbs will help your body relax and your mind would have no choice but to focus on the pleasure because your body can’t move. I’ll only do it with your permission though.” 

You silently stare at him for a moment, the gears in your head slowly turning. He wants to what? Your eyes tick down to the scarves hanging loosely from his hands before ticking back up to his waiting eyes. 

You clear your throat, flushing. “Uh…you’re into that?” You can’t help but nervously giggle. You never thought Aizawa would be so kinky, but then again, he’s also the same one who groped you in a school elevator. 

Though you can’t quite make out his complexion in the darkness, you can tell that he’s blushing by his eyes flicking away from yours. “A little, but I’ve only done it with a few. Not everyone really…gets…what I’m into.”

Your eyes widen. What the fuck else is this man into besides bondage? You suddenly remember him mentioning a collar the night you two had sex for the first time and you blush. 

Aizawa takes your silence for discomfort even though your mind is short-circuiting. “If you don’t want to, I completely understand,” he quickly adds. “There’s no pressure. I just want you to clear your head for a while and feel every ounce of pleasure I want to give you because you deserve it.” 

You stare into his eyes, searching for any confirmation that he means what he says. He does. You can tell by the way he stares you down, his gaze soft but unyielding. You’ve never done something like this before. It’s way out of your world, especially when it comes to sex.

But the idea of being tied up by Aizawa’s scarves and given a good orgasm arouses you more than you understand. Your pussy clenches and gushes impatiently in your panties, desperate for this fantasy to become a reality. 

“Okay,” you decide. “Let’s try it.”

Aizawa’s eyes widen, obviously not thinking you would agree. “But only on one condition.” With a sway in your hips, you sashay up to him, your heels clicking against the tiled floor. You press a hand to his toned stomach and slowly slide it up to his chest, feeling him up. “When you tie me up, I want you to fuck me just like that,” you purr. 

The shock on Aizawa’s face immediately fades, replaced with a darker, more intense look. It’s intimidating. It’s sexy. “So I have your permission to do this?” he asks, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that excites you. You slowly nod.

“And you can revoke that consent at any point during this. Your pleasure and your safety are all that matter to me, and they should be all that matter to you.” He cups your chin in his hand, forcing you to keep his eyes on his. “Am I clear?” he asks. 

Though your mind is going blank and your tongue feels dry, you manage to answer: “Yes.” He raises an expectant brow. “Yes what?” he probes.

You swallow your now-dry throat, feeling like you’re in the damn Sahara desert now. “Yes…sir?” you timidly answer though it comes to as a question.

That satisfies him though, a crooked smile crossing his lips. “Good girl,” he chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now turn around and face the mirror with your legs together and arms behind your back, one wrist over the other.” 

Trembling in excitement, you do as he commands and turn toward the mirror. You watch the woman staring back at you place her hands behind her back and stand with her legs pressed tight together. Aizawa comes up behind her and gently takes one of her wrists into his hand where he begins to wrap his scarf around it. He does the same to the other until both are tied together, stuck behind your back. You flex your hands in your new binds, the restrictions tight but not painful.

“That okay?” he asks, looking up at you for your reactions. “It doesn’t hurt?” 

You slowly shake your head. “No,” you answer. “But I can’t move them either.” The grin that stretches across his face is no short of devious. “Good; now we do your ankles.”

He bends down and gives your ankles the same treatment, his fingers working expertly to tie a knot around the back of your ankles that pulls them tightly together. Finally, you’re finished and you feel completely stuck. You can hardly move and even if you try to, you know that you’ll trip due to your feet being restricted. The fact that you’re completely at Aizawa’s mercy makes your heart thump faster in your chest, especially when you feel his hand press on the middle of your back. 

That anxiousness twirling in your stomach is replaced with pleasure when you feel Aizawa bend you over the counter and lightly glide his fingers against your cunt. “You’re still so wet,” he growls, arousal deep in his voice. He begins to stroke you there, emitting breathless moans from your lips. You shut your eyes from the feeling, unable to hold yourself together.

You suddenly feel Aizawa at your side, his hot, minty breath fanning your face. “Is this turnin’ you on, kitty?” he teasingly asks, his lips at your ear. “Havin’ nowhere to run or hide because you’re tied up in my scarves? I could do anything I want to you at this point.” 

You whimper at his words, already picturing him doing that. He could fuck you in any position he wants; move your body however he sees fit. The more Aizawa plays with your pussy, the harder you can feel him becoming in his pants as he pushes against you, the wetter and more impatient you get. You need him. Now.

“Shouta, please,” you pitifully whine. “Please just fuck me. Please make me forget.” 

Sensing your neediness, Aizawa doesn’t waste time unbuckling and unzipping his slacks with one hand. “I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, and you feel his cock press against your entrance. He lightly strokes your slit for a few seconds, coating his head in your juices, before he pushes himself inside of your aching, waiting cunt, stretching you out. You gasp at the feeling, your toes curling in your heels and muscles turning to jelly. 

Aizawa slowly begins to rock his hips against your ass, creating a symphony of skin slapping against skin. “God, you’re tight!” he grunts. “Keep your thighs pushed together. Keep yourself tight for me.”

You do as he says, clenching your thighs tightly together, causing your pussy walls to clench around his cock. He takes that as his cue to go faster, bumping his hips mercilessly against your ass that bounces and claps against his lower stomach. Every time he thrusts, he strokes another part of your pussy walls that has you seeing stars and glides against the underside of your G-spot. 

“God, Shouta!” you gasp. “I can’t…can’t…” Your breath comes out in huffs as he fucks you silly against the sink. It’s too much. He’s just too good. Your mind is now a blank canvas, blinded by the euphoric feeling that Aizawa is serving you on a silver platter. You have no choice but to take it, your restrictions forcing you to.

“Can’t what?” he huffs with laughter from behind you. "Can't take it? You wanted this, right? Wanted me to fuck all of those bad thoughts out of that pretty brain of yours?”

He grabs your hips and rams into you faster, turning your pussy to mush. You can no longer hold back and start to sob and whine, your voice bouncing off the bathroom walls. “Talk to me, kitty,” he demands. “Answer me.” 

“Yes!” you sob, nearly crying at the sheer pleasure. “Yes, sir, I need this! I need you!” Aizawa continues to sharply snap his hips, ramming his cock into your pussy again, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with every thrust. You are gone, absolutely “Please keep fucking me like that!” you babble. “Please, please, Master!” 

Your eyes pop open, horrified at your words. Aizawa falters for a moment in his thrusts, obviously catching that word too. ‘Oh, no,’ you lament inwardly. ‘Now look what you’ve done, stupid! Now he’s gonna think you’re weird! You’ve ruined every–‘ 

The self-critical thought is instantly squashed when Aizawa begins to claw at one of your breasts, bringing it out of your dress to fondle as he proceeds to fuck you dumb again. “Say that again,” he hoarsely demands, almost begging you. “Call me that again.” 

Your pussy clenches desperately around his cock, your clit swelling as you get closer to that orgasm. “Please, Master!” you beg. “Please make me cum! I’m so, so close…” A string of mewing moans leaves your lips as he speeds up, doing his damnedest to make you both cum.

“Cum all around my cock,” he growls. “Do it right now. Give it all to me, kitty.” As you clamp down around his cock, prepared to do just as he ordered you, he grips your breast and your hip hard enough to draw bruises. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” he grunts. “Gonna cum deep inside this pretty lil’ pussy…” 

After a few more earth-shattering thrusts that knock the wind out of you, he grips your body to him for dear life and bursts inside of you with a primal growl that makes you unravel in his arms and scarves. Combined with the feeling of being restricted, his dick gliding over your G-spot, and his warm cum gushing inside of you, you finally cum all over his cock. Your orgasm washes over you in a blissful tsunami that has you curling your toes in your heels and biting your lip to keep from screaming at the top of your lungs. 

You are overcome with mind-bending, back-breaking pleasure. And Aizawa. Your senses come alive with every part of him–his scent; his touch; the warmth radiating off of his body.

And for the first time since tonight started, you feel good. You feel so good that you can hardly control your breathing. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as the aftershocks of your orgasm take over your body, making you writhe and buck against the restraints. Aizawa slowly slides out of you and presses his nose to your cheek, nuzzling it. 

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers. “Just breathe through it.” 

You do as he commands, slowly inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils until the aftershocks fade. Aizawa pulls away enough to let you lean your head back into his chest. You feel spent and sweaty but oh-so satisfied with what just happened. “Thank you,” you mewl softly. “That was amazing. Definitely did the job.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I am to please. Now let’s get you out of my scarves.” 

You feel slightly disappointed when he unties your wrists and ankles. And then you’re shocked at yourself feeling such a way. Did you really enjoy being tied up by him like that? Do you like the idea of being vulnerable and possibly controlled by him?

‘Very,’ you think, and you bite your lip at the naughtiness of it. You never considered yourself that submissive, but something about having Aizawa dominate you yet still takes immense pleasure in your pleasure is totally arousing to you. 

After you and Aizawa wash your hands and clean up, you quickly get dressed. You smooth out your gown, check your hair in the mirror to make sure it doesn’t look too fucked-out, and apply fresh lipstick in the mirror. You don’t need anyone questioning where you were. Once finished, you turn to Aizawa who is fully dressed and tucking his scarves into his suit jacket.

He turns to you, his gaze soft and giving you butterflies. “Ready, kitty?” He asks, and the pentane you’ve become so familiar and accustomed to makes your heart soar. 

You smile at him as you strut up to him, a newfound confidence in you that can only be given by a good fucking. “Yeah,” you reply with conviction. “Let’s do it.” And off to the opera you go, hand in hand. 

No one is around when you two come out of the bathroom, fortunately, so the trip to your seats is smooth. Everyone is already sitting in their seats, the entire place packed. Aizawa lets you enter your aisle first to find your seat before he follows. The seats are under a balcony where others sit above you and though high up, you still get a great view of the stage below.

“The show starts in five,” Aizawa whispers as he sits next to you. “He should be here soon.” 

You bite your lip as you begin to scan every seat surrounding you–down, up, left, and right. “What does he look like?” you whisper, eyes still scanning the audience below.

Aizawa does the same, his eyes shifting among the sea of heads. “Look for a man with terrible, scarred skin, green eyes, and long, black hair. Supposedly, he’ll be wearing a black suit and he’ll be here with a woman too, obviously as a cover for a hit tonight.” 

You cross your legs and put your hands in your lap, clutching your purse in an effort to relax. “What do you want me to do if I see him?” you ask, unable to calm down.

Aizawa puts his hand in yours, holding it. “Just squeeze my hand twice and I’ll know. You can just be my lookout for now.” He goes back to looking straight ahead at the stage, looking calm and collected, but you can tell he’s alert. 

You wonder how you can be like that. How does he stay so calm in such a high-alert situation? You can barely keep still. You’re jumpy; unable to keep from voicing your concerns to Aizawa. “But what if–“

Before you can get the rest of your words out, the lights in the room are dimming, shrouding the audience in darkness, and the crowd is excitedly applauding for the start of the show. 

You instantly grip the arm of your chair, your claws sinking into the cushion there and ripping it. You’re reacting as if a villain will pop right out of the stage. Aizawa grips your hand, his thumb running comfortingly across your knuckles. “Relax, honey,” he coos. “Just keep breathin’ for me. You’re doin’ great so far.” 

On stage, a spotlight appears, illuminating a woman in a long, black gown and the most beautiful, glossy curls you’ve ever seen. As she opens her mouth to sing, a string section below the stage begins to lay alongside her melody and a big, white moon rises above her in the background.

“It’s not that,” you whisper fearfully. “What if he sees us first and attacks us?”

Aizawa shakes his head. “He wouldn’t do that unless he wants to make a scene. With how low-key he’s been, it wouldn’t make sense for him to do such an irresponsible thing. That would be like painting a target on his back.” He turns back to the stage, paying attention to the singer…or at least acting like it. 

You try to do so, but the loud sounds of horns, flutes, and drums coming from the band below make your anxiety reach a crescendo along with the music. You busy yourself with being Aizawa’s trusted lookout and slowly scan the audience to your left. Thanks to your cat eyesight, you can make out each face in the darkness. You check their eyes; their hair; their features.

You see no one that matches Aizawa’s description of the villain or one that looks remotely close to being a threat. You can feel yourself becoming frustrated. How are you supposed to find him in such a big audience? He could be anywhere! 

But when your eyes scan up to your left towards the balcony seats, you know you’ve found him. He stands out immediately like a sore thumb. And he might as well be–his skin is terrible, pebbled with healed scars across his cheeks and jaw.

His hair is long and black like Aizawa’s, but not as luscious or sexy. It looks oily and cascades down his shoulders in waves. He wears a dark indigo suit that matches his eyes and the dress of the beautiful woman he sits next to. They sit in their own seats isolated at arm’s length away from the rest of the audience.

While his date doesn't give off the vibe of evil, he certainly does. His appearance makes you weary and the way he sits–back straight and rigidly as if he’s about to get up at any moment–makes you uneasy. 

You know for a fact that you’ve found the villain. You waste no time squeezing Aizawa’s hand twice and he immediately turns to you. “See him?” he whispers. You nod, motioning your head to your left where the balcony seats are. 

He shifts his body to look, pretending to be whispering to you. You shift your eyes to the left to keep your eyes on the villain and his date. She leans over to whisper something to him, her hand on his knee. He nods and whispers something back, making her grin and slap him on the arm. She then rises from her seat and walks towards the exit behind her.

“Looks like she’s getting up,” Aizawa whispers, already rising from his seat with you. “C’mon before she comes back.” 

“What!?” you quietly hiss, shocked that you are already moving in action. What are you supposed to do?

But Aizawa doesn’t explain, instead taking your hand to get you out of your seat. He whispers “excuse me” to your seatmates as you squeeze past them before heading up the steps to one of the exits. With his hand still in yours, he hurries to the next exit on the left where the balcony seats, and your target, are. You see the back of his head and feel those nervous butterflies return.

You turn to Aizawa for comfort but he is busy talking to someone in his earpiece. “Yeah, I see him,” he tells the person in his ear. “I’m approaching the target now for interrogation.” 

Your eyes shift to the villain and back to Aizawa who proceeds to creep towards the balcony. You stop him, your hand on his shoulder. “Wait, Shouta,” you protest.

He cocks an eyebrow at you, confused. “He may recognize you and freak. Let me try to get him first before you do.” You know the villain won’t recognize you and if you act right, you would seal the deal on this mission for both you and Aizawa. 

The pro looks uncertain and a little afraid. “You sure?” he worriedly asks. You nod, determined to show him that you’re more than capable of doing this. He finally nods, presenting his hand in an “after you” motion toward the villain. “Go get ‘em, baby.” 

You grin, wanting to kiss him. ‘I certainly will.’

Slowly, you creep towards the balcony seats, glad that the singing is loud enough that your heels clicking across the floor aren’t heard. You move slowly and methodically, keeping watch of the villain’s head to make sure you're not heard. But he’s too busy staring ahead. Holding your breath, you finally make your way to the seat next to him and sit down, finally exhaling. You try to keep calm and not give yourself away as his cologne hits your nose. 

He barely glances your way when you finally settle into his date’s seat. “You’re back,” he says, his voice gritty and low. “That was quick.” You feel his hand move to grip your thigh. You do your best to not claw it off. “I just couldn’t wait to get back here and see your handsome face, darling,” you purr. 

You glance at him, watching his scarred face morph into a scowl. He finally turns toward you and his eyes widen in shock. “Who the fuck–“ 

“Nice outfit, right?” you chuckle deviously, motioning over your red gown. “I did a quick change. And how ‘bout my nails? You like ‘em?” You present your hand to him where your claws jut out of your nails, sharp and glinting in the darkness. 

Before the villain can say anything more, he is suddenly yanked back into his seat by his neck where a scarf is wrapped tightly around it from behind. “Say one word or make one move, and I’ll snap your neck,” Aizawa warns, his voice dangerously low. “I’m gonna ask you some questions and I want you to answer them honestly. Maybe then the cops will go easy on you.” 

The villain grunts slightly as his breathing is slightly restricted but not enough to choke. “Eraserhead?” he chuckles in disbelief. “They got you?” His indigo eyes shift your way, ticking up and down your face. “Who’s the chick?” he curiously asks. 

Aizawa’s fists clench around the scarf wrapped around the villain’s neck, causing him to wheeze. “Her name is Night Claw and she’ll most definitely put those claws to use if you don’t start talking.” You flash your claws at the villain and even grip his knee for good measure, causing his body to tense. “What’s your real name?” Aizawa demands. 

“Toyoma Kaneki,” he hoarsely responds. Aizawa nods as if expecting him to say that. You don't doubt that he did. “What are you here for?” he demands. “It can’t just be for a night out to enjoy the singing. You’re here for someone.” Toyoma defiantly grits his teeth and Aizawa tightens his grip, causing Toyoma’s face to turn beet red as he tries to choke down air.

Aizawa finally releases his hold and the villain gasps. “God!” he coughs. “It’s him! Multi-millionaire and politician.” He nods at the bald man wearing glasses sitting several seats below. “Someone paid me to do it, but I wasn’t gonna kill him!” 

“How can we believe that?” you scoff. “You have a track record for murder and assault, apparently.” 

Toyoma visibly shakes as Aizawa’s tightens his grip again. “I-I just get paid to it!” he stammers. “Plus, these people are bad news too: blackmail; money laundering…I’m doing the streets a favor for takin’ them out.” 

“That’s not up for you to decide, Toyoma,” Aizawa lectures, sounding like a father lecturing his son for bad behavior. “So what do you wanna do here?” Toyama continues to stare ahead at his target, a scowl on his face. His shoulders then slump in defeat. “You caught me, I guess,” he sighs, raising his hands. “I know if I do anything, you’ll fuck me up. If the cops are waiting for me outside, just take me to ‘em.” 

You and Aizawa instantly share a look of pure confusion. That doesn’t sound right. Before you can question Toyoma if he's serious, the clicking of heels startles you, and your ears perk up high on your head. You and Aizawa turn, finding Toyoma’s standing there in a state of shock. 

“What’s going on here?” she demands, squinting at you. “Who are you?” When she sees Aizawa, her eyes just about pop out of her gorgeous skull. “Eraserhead?!” she gasps, loud enough to catch some eyes. Before either of you can speak, Toyoma suddenly sinks into his seat and disappears into the floor like he isn’t made of solid matter. You can hardly believe your eyes. 

“Fuck!” Aizawa growls, already racing to the exit past Toyoma's distraught date. You follow him as fast as you can in your heels. As you do, you rapidly search the area for a way downstairs, knowing Toyoma could be on any of the lower floors.

You swear you get blessed when you find a staircase near the elevators. “Shouta, this way!” you shout before quickly venturing down the staircase. Aizawa follows close behind, his dress shoes slapping against the stairs as your heels slam furiously down each step. You know you’ll be feeling this tomorrow. 

The staircase is luckily only five floors, leading right down to the final floor: the basement, right behind a door. Though out of breath, you immediately grasp the doorknob and jiggle it, finding it locked. “The door!” you growl, frustrated as you continue to pull and push with no use.

With his hand on your shoulder, Aizawa silently moves you out of the way, keeping you as far from himself and the door as possible. He then raises his left leg and forces the basement door open with one swift kick. The door nearly breaks off its hinges as it slams open, revealing a dank, dark basement with creaky floorboards, cement walls, and dusty tools, stage equipment, and dining tables. 

Aizawa carefully walks in first, his movements silent and methodical. Before you enter after him, you unstrap your heels and carry them instead, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise. Walking barefoot allows you the silence you’re looking for. The basement is quiet but not unnervingly so when you follow Aizawa into the room. When the door shuts behind you, it engulfs you in total darkness.

You’ve never been more thankful for your senses than now when your feline sight kicks in, allowing you to see the shapes of different items and Aizawa standing in the middle of the room. “Sense anything?” he asks, his voice hushed and low. 

You take a moment to tap into your senses. Though it’s dark, you don’t see anything move; not even the tiniest bug or dust particle. You don’t hear anything despite a show happening several floors above. You also don’t smell something out of the ordinary that isn’t mold or dankness.

You don’t sense…anything. And that frightens you. Toyoma is clearly a very skilled villain which means he knows when to attack and when not to. Aizawa has to keep on his toes. You turn to warn him, but before you can, you suddenly find yourself being kicked hard in the middle of your back and falling chest-first on the floor. You gasp, the wind completely knocked out of your lungs. 

“Y/N!” Aizawa shouts, racing to help you but is stopped when Toyoma materializes from the solid floor beneath him and punches him in the face.

Aizawa falters slightly but manages to quickly recover and scoop you up with one arm. Carefully, he carries you away to the other side of the room and lays you on your side. “Y/N, stay down,” he demands. “I’ve got him.” You can’t even protest; you’re in too much pain. 

You have no choice but to watch Aizawa as charges at Toyoma, drawing his scarves and immediately targeting them at Toyoma. His attack is done in vain when Toyoma disappears into the floor again.

Aizawa barely has time to look for his opponent when he suddenly appears right behind him from the floor and wrenches an arm around his neck. Toyoma is incredibly fast, you realize. So fast that neither of you can sense him. 

Aizawa grunts, his knees buckling as Toyoma locks his arm around his neck. “You should’ve known better than to have followed me down here,” he grunts, working his damnedest to choke Aizawa. “You should’ve let me leave.”

Aizawa gargles and grunts in Toyoma’s deadly hold, his face turning a dark shade of red the more time he goes without breathing. 

He’s killing you, you realize with fear flaring in your gut. And if you don’t do something, Aizawa is sure to die.

Thinking quick and concealed by the darkness, you press a hand to your stomach and roll over to the nearest wall where you find an old toolbox. You grab the first thing your eyes land on–a crowbar–and quickly rise to your feet. You run towards Toyoma and quickly hit him over the head with the crowbar, glad for your swiftness and the silence your bare feet allow you. 

Toyoma grunts in pain as he falls to his knees, grabbing the back of his head. Aizawa immediately crumbles and begins to cough, gulping down air.

Toyoma glares up at you like you just murdered his entire family. “And you should’ve known better than to have fucked with us,” you growl before bringing the crowbar forward to hit him across the face. 

Toyoma quickly sinks into the floor and appears again through a wall, this time on the far left. You’re on him immediately, ignoring the pain in your stomach as you draw your claws and swipe at him. Toyoma backs up with every single swipe of your hands, moving as you do.

You dip low to try and kick him from below, but he one-ups you by grabbing your leg and swinging you around like you weigh absolutely nothing. You shriek as he does, becoming dizzy from the constant whirl. When he finally releases you, you go soaring into the air and quickly twist your body to land on your hands. You then flip backward and land in a squat, your heart pounding and lungs burning. 

Toyoma chuckles at your skill. “Your bitch can fight, Eraser,” he spits. “But she’s not gonna stop me. Neither one of you fuckin’ idiots are!” He opens his jacket and Aizawa is on him, quickly charging toward him with his scarves drawn and eyes flashing red.

But before he can stop him, he reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a small canister, and forcefully throws it down. As soon as it hits the floor, the canister explodes into a plume of thick, blinding smoke that has you coughing and your eyes tearing. You find sanctuary on the nearest wall and press your back against it as the smoke gets thicker. 

“Y/N!” Aizawa shouts in the smoke. “Where are you?” His voice is loud and clear despite the smoke concealing your sight. He sounds close by, but where is the question.

You begin to try and walk along the wall, keeping your hands on it to give you some balance. “I’m right here!” you call to him, squinting into the thick, gray fog. “The motherfucker was ready, apparently.” 

“Stay right here you are,” Aizawa grunts. “I’ll come to you.” You want to ask him how when the fog is too thick, but you stop when you hear something: the honk of cars. It is coming from your left, right where you remember the small window being. Toyoma is escaping. “Wait, I hear him!” you shout. “He’s near the window! He’s getting away!” 

“Y/N, wait!” Aizawa warns. “Don’t go anywhere!” But you don’t listen, too pumped up on adrenaline and the fear that this piece of shit will get away for good.

Crouching in the fog, you quickly crawl on all fours, navigating through that way until you feel another solid wall. You trail your hands up until you feel nothing but the cool night breeze on them. The window.

Reaching your hands out, you grasp the window and open it further. Hopefully, the air will clear the fog for Aizawa’s sake. 

Quickly, you securely grasp the top of the window ledge and climb through, now squatting in the window. You twist your head to look up, finding a poster for the opera hanging there. You sink your clothes into the fabric and begin to climb up one at a time, grunting as you do.

The farther you climb, the more distant the sounds of the street become, but you don’t look down. If you do, you know you’ll stop. You keep your eyes up, trained on the stars above.

‘Do it for Shouta,’ you think. ‘He needs you.’ 

When you finally reach the rooftop, you pull yourself up with all of the strength you can muster. Toyoma is there, standing at the ledge with his back to you. When he hears you, he barely spares you a glance. “Don't move,” you demand, your voice low and dangerous. “If you know what’s good for you.” 

You can’t help but wonder why Toyoma didn’t just use his quirk to escape. You get your answer when he turns around and reveals the bomb sitting there, attached to dozens of wires. “Do you know what’s good for you, bitch?” he mocks you, an overly cocky smirk on his face. “If you take one step toward me, I’m settin’ this thing off. Consider it my plan B.” 

He retracts a device from his jacket–a remote with one single button. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that it’s for the bomb. Fear flows through you like ice was just shot into your veins, making you freeze up.

'So that’s why Toyoma came up here: he’s planning to bomb the theatre.'

He cocks his head to the side, staring you down like you’re nothing more than a child playing dress-up. And you do feel like you’re a child playing dress-up right now. You are now faced with one of the most malicious villains you’ve ever come across. 

“I knew one of you stupid heroes would be here undercover tryin’ to stop my mission,” Toyoma spits. “So I improvised. If you even think about comin’ near me, I’ll kill every single person in this building, including you and your man.” His thumb grazes the remote button, making your heart lurch. “Just leave me be and I won’t do it. I’ll even spare your life.” 

You know that all he spouts are lies. He may even kill you or worse, Aizawa even if you let him off the hook. Even worse though, he could be telling the truth. If you do as he says, you know it’s only a matter of time until he successfully accomplishes his mission or kills someone else the way he’s been doing so far. But if you decide to attack, he’ll bomb this entire place.

Sweat gathers at the back of your neck as you find yourself caught between decisions. ‘What do I do?’ you think in a panic. ‘What would Shouta do?’ 

You squeeze your eyes shut as frustrated tears prick at your eyes. You wish you could disappear somehow to take Toyoma by surprise. Maybe shrink down enough to sneak behind him and…wait. A lightbulb flickers in your head and you nearly laugh. ‘That’s it!’

Toyoma continues to stare at you, his thumb hovering tauntingly over the button. “What are you still standin’ there for?” he cackles. “What’s the matter? Cat gotcha tongue?”

You smirk at him, using those lines as the perfect time to shift. The world suddenly gets bigger and Toyoma appears much taller than he is when you shrink down onto all fours, your skin and clothes morphing into fur. Toyoma watches in horror and awe as your limbs shrink, your human ears shift into points, and your hands and feet transform into paws. Whiskers protrude from your cheeks. Your nose is now a snout. Your cat irises shift, directed right at him. 

“What the fuck?!” He shouts, nearly dropping the remote. You waste no time rushing towards him on your feline legs and pounce on him, your claws extended and fangs drawn. The shock on his face is absolutely hilarious, even when you drag your set of claws across his cheek and sink your teeth into his nose. “Ow!” he screams, holding his now bleeding face. 

As you land perfectly on your feet, you take the remote from his hand and into your mouth. Quickly, you shift back into your human form and slip the remote into your back pocket. Toyoma gives you a deathly stare, ragged claw marks on his cheek, and blood bubbling from the teeth marks in his nose. “That’s for calling’ me a bitch, bitch,” you hiss at him. “And this is for bein’ a dickhead.” You begin to charge at him, prepared to tackle him off of the building. 

You don’t count on him suddenly disappearing through the rooftop, stopping you dead in your tracks. You barely have time to look for him when you suddenly feel his hands grip your ankles from below. You shriek, trying to free yourself, but you only lose your balance. You gasp as you find yourself teetering off of the ledge of the building. Quickly, you grip the ledge with both hands, your claws scratching at the stone. “Shit!” You gasp, your heart leaping into your throat. 

You scramble to press your feet to the wall but you’re unable to find your footing. You sneak a look down below, finding the city traffic below you. Even if you did manage to land perfectly, you’d be squashed by one of the cars. A whimper leaves your lips as you grip the ledge, desperate to climb back up.

But Toyoma stops you when he appears in your line of vision and gives you a menacing smirk. “Now who’s the bitch?” he chuckles down at you. “That’s all you’re ever gonna be when you splatter all over the pavement for playin’ pretend.” 

He kneels down to give a good look at his eyes. “You think don’t see that you’re not a real pro?” he asks, squinting at you. “That I can’t see right through you?” He presses his foot to one of your hands, nearly crushing your fingers. “Now look at you: seconds away from death. Let’s see if cats really do have nine lives.” 

“Please!” you beg, but you can’t stop him when he pries your hands off of the ledge. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait to feel your body hitting the ground…but you don’t feel pain or hear the splat of your body hitting the cold pavement below. 

What you do feel is something gripping your wrist to stop your fall and hear Toyoma grunting from above you. You open your eyes, finding Aizawa’s scarves wrapped around your wrist and Toyoma’s body, restricting his movement.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Aizawa demands, rage written all across his handsome face and in his eyes that glow pure, deadly red. Toyoma's eyes widen for a moment, obviously feeling the effects of Aizawa’s quirk draining him of his power. “No!” he growls and squeezes his eyes shut behind he sinks through the rooftop once more. 

Aizawa isn’t too concerned with that though. He’s way more concerned with getting you up to safety. He begins to pull you up by one of your arms though you’re afraid to let go. “I’ve gotcha,” he grunts. “Grab my hand.”

He reaches his free hand out to you. Though hesitantly, you do so and he yanks you up by both of your wrists. Once you feel your feet touch the ground, your claws retract and your body relaxes though you still tremble. 

Aizawa immediately unties his scarf from around your wrist and wraps his arms around you. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. All of the fear and relief you can feel radiating off of his big, hard body pressed against yours in his tight embrace. He is solid, real, and true. Everything that you need to know that you’re okay.

You reach into your back pocket, presenting the remote to him. “I-I got the remote for the bomb,” you softly stammer. "He was planning to bomb this place.” 

He silently nods, not even acknowledging it too much. He just continues to squeeze you as if afraid you’ll disappear again. You lean into his chest, allowing yourself to melt into him, even feeling those tears threatening to rise to the surface. He rubs your back soothingly, reassuring you (and possibly himself) that everything is okay now. 

But everything isn’t okay. "Goddammit!” you growl frustratedly in his chest. “He got away again.” Tears begin to flow freely down your face now, ruining your makeup. "I almost had him! I almost–“ 

“Stop,” Aizawa firmly demands, taking hold of your shoulders. “You don’t need to worry about him right now. I knew he was gonna get away anyway. He’s skilled, remember?” His hand moves to caress your cheek, his thumb wiping away a lone tear.

“But I had him, Shouta!” you shout, feeling so much like a loser. “He was right there! If I would’ve just…” You hang your head in shame. “I’m a failure,” you defeatedly mutter to yourself. 

“No, you’re not,” Aizawa growls intensely, his stare firm and almost angered. “I don’t wanna ever hear you say that shit again, do you understand? You’re not a failure, Y/N. You’re strong, intelligent, and a damn great fighter. You’ve shown me tonight and so many other nights that you’re needed by my side.”

He wipes away another lone tear, cupping your face into both of his hands now. ”Don’t ever call yourself a failure, understand?” 

Knowing he wants an answer, you defeatedly slump your shoulders. “Yes,” you huff under your breath. His grip on your face tightens.

“What was that?” he firmly asks.

You try to ignore the way your heart leaps at his dominance and the effect it has on you. “Yes…sir,” you hesitantly repeat.

He nods once, pleased with that. He opens his mouth to possibly say more, but his expression morphs into one of irritation and his hand goes to his ear. “Eraser!” a gruff voice yells from the earpiece. “Eraser, come in!”

He sighs, pressing his ear. “I hear you, chief,” he huffs, irritated. “I lost him, unfortunately…yeah, I’ll visit the department later tonight with information on him. Stay put.” 

“Do you need me to come with you?” you ask, hoping he’ll say yes and you could be more help to him. You could make up for losing Toyoma.

“No,” he replies, and disappointment blooms inside of you. “You almost got knocked off a building tonight, baby. Go home and rest.” His lips stretch into a thin line which means he definitely doesn't want the backtalk tonight.

But you never listen. “But I–“ 

“No buts,” he firmly states. “Get home. Now.” His charcoal eyes drill a hole in you, daring you to protest or argue. But you don’t, the exhaustion of tonight being just too much.

You smile up at him despite yourself and fix his tie. “Still so bossy,” you softly giggle. That earns you a smile. 

Minutes later after collecting your heels and getting escorted outside by Aizawa, you do go home. But against his wishes and your better judgment, you show up at his door hours later in the night.

You sit and wait for him patiently by the door and once he arrives in his tracksuit hours later, you give him a big greeting, purring and curling your tail around his ankles. 

“Hey, you,” he coos. 

[anrisimps]

Krs hummed while cooking. He was making cjs's favorite soup. He smiled a little as he imagined cjs's reaction. How his eyes would light up and would reward him with a million dollar smile which more often than naught, blinded krs. 

He gasped as two hands suddenly wrapped themselves around his waist and he looked back only to find Lsh gazing at him fondly. He gave an appreciative hum as he inspected the soup, "Jung Soo is going to love that Roksoo- ya"

"I know" 

Lsh bent his head down and nuzzled his face in the crook of krs's neck before planting a small kiss against his collar bone. 

"And nothing for me..?. Im hurt dongsaeng"

Krs didn't reply and just continued cooking. Lsh huffed when he saw that smirk on his face and pinched his waist, "Ow, what are you being jealous over for?"

Lsh  tightened his hold on krs and began rubbing little circles on his waist. It felt extremely nice. Krs leaned back into lsh's muscled body and tilted his head so that their faces were mere inches apart.

"Do u really think I would do nothing for you? Hah…. I made your favorite chocolate cake"

" Rok soo ~ This hyung loves you a lot" 

"....."

" Come on, you have to say it back. Don't you love your hyung anymore?"

"Dont ask something so obvious"

Lsh laughed and ruffled his hair, " You punk! You never change, do you?"

Krs ignored him and began packing up the soup and the cake. He could hear cjs's voice in the doorway. Lsh turned away to greet his boisterous dongsaeng and left krs in the kitchen. Unbeknownst to him, krs's gaze turned soft when he heard his two most, and only, favorite people squabbling like children just a door away. 

With a big sigh, he picked up the food and went to find his idiots. They weren't very far away after all. It's been quite a while since they relaxed together, just the three of them.  

Krs stared blankly as both of them waved, crouched around a street cat. The cat meowed pathetically as she felt krs's gaze on it. Krs walked past them and kneeled down and unpacking the food. He felt his surroundings going quiet as piled up the food on different plates. The cat, more of a kitten really, meowed again and rubbed her head against krs's ankles affectionately. Krs set the lsh and cjs's favorite food on their respective graves and sat back with his legs crossed. 

He had met this cat 2 years ago when he came to visit them. She always seemed to be loitering around their graves and krs always ended up bringing some food for her too. She always ate half and saved some for her sibling - a red kitten smaller than her. Krs had seen him once. He never appeared again after that. Krs doesn't know what happened to him. 

Just like always, the kitten ate half of it and krs…didn't eat anything. He continued to stare at the graves for a long while as if the sight wasn't already imprinted in his mind forever. Suddenly feeling extremely tired, krs closed his eyes and allowed his head to rest on his knees and dozed off. 

In his half lucid state, he felt as if someone was caressing his hair. A bright, infectious laughter floated past him. It felt distant, oh so distant, as if even the figments of his imagination were being blown away by the wind. He buried his head even deeper into his arms as the litany of voices whirled around him,completely obvious to his growing  despair,

"Kim Rok Soo , Roksoo- yah , Dongsaeng  Roksooroksooroksooroksooroksooroksooroksooroksooroksooroksoo-"

.

.

Live well, eat well Roksoo. Being alive is the best.."

And just like that all the other voices disappeared and the place descended into silence once again. He was finally alone. Like always.

[mad-dogs-bg3]

Mad Dogs: Part Three

Part One: A Dead Man's Throne

Part Two: If It's All the Same to You

Content warning: This is a sexually explicit series that includes violence and may contain other triggering content such as traumatic memories, murder, allusions to sexual assault, and consensual power exchange, along with other BDSM themes. Reader, beware of your triggers and limits.

Part Three

I Tried Them All

Shadowheart snuck up on Astarion, jarring him from his thoughts. He put on his mask, the one made of sarcasm and wit, the one where he was handsome and charming with a smug, cheeky grin. The mask that hid his true face. The frightened one. The one that worried.

“You should know better than to sneak up on an armed vampire, darling,” he said.

Shadowheart didn’t give him the grace of a response. She simply sat next to him and looked out across the bay. Astarion shrugged and leaned back, enjoying every moment of the sun. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his collar unlaced, bootless feet dangling over the side of the pier inches above the water. He felt very casual but not casual enough to touch the disgusting water.

He felt strangely giddy and free in the sunlight these days. He relished that neither Cazador nor any of his siblings could lift a hair against him during the day. He had been taking advantage of the city, going to places that he had not been to since before his unholy transformation. Being back in the city had affected them all in different ways. Instead of enjoying their downtime with the endless parade of taverns and excitement, each had been brooding away, lost in their thoughts.

Astarion had slept in a bed the night before. A real bed. He had bathed and eaten a meal indoors. The sun was shining and all the other blood-sucking creatures of the night were in a dank crypt somewhere, probably. 

“What is it that you want, darling?” he asked Shadowheart, reluctantly. “You’re not in the habit of sunbathing, never mind with me. Spit it out.”

“You wound me,” she said with a sardonic smile. “But you’re right. I need to talk to you about Alaric.”

Astarion smirked as memories of the evening before surfaced… It had been their first time together in a real bed, after all. He glanced at her, and her face was grim. It was usually grim, but she looked more sour than usual.

“If this is about the noise, I can’t make any promises…”

She rolled her eyes and glared at him. “It’s not.”

“Well then,” Astarion drawled, “you’re not getting any younger.”

Her serious mood was making Astarion uncomfortable. He supposed one peaceful morning in the sun was, in fact, too much to ask for.

“He’s getting worse,” she said. “Ever since we came to the city. He barely sleeps, and when he does, he tosses and turns, muttering depraved nonsense. I’m worried that we will have another Alfira on our hands. That hideous shape changer knows him…Intimately, it appears. He is hiding something.”

Astarion’s first response was anger. How dare she accuse him? He had saved all of their lives on multiple occasions; his leadership and quick thinking had gotten them all safely to the city. But Astarion’s stomach turned when he realized that a tiny part of him knew she was right to worry. Alaric had changed since they arrived. More so than the rest of them. Wherever they went, there was always someone who seemed to recognize him. Sometimes, perfect strangers would stop in their tracks and flee when they approached.

“And who among us is innocent of suspicion, my dear ex-Shar worshipper?” Astarion asked her. “Perhaps the devil? The soldier of Avernus? Or perhaps the Drow? The one who led an army of goblins through the countryside?”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “Don’t get defensive, I mean it, you need to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. If he loses control, we will be forced to stop him.”

“Are you suggesting we put him down like a mad dog?” Astarion sneered.

“Do you think I am stupid? Blind? Deaf?” she asked. “I heard you that night in camp. Do you think that your tent is soundproof? You barely managed to keep him from killing you. What if it happens again? What if there is no rope strong enough to restrain his urge?”

Astarion was silent. They had thought they were so sneaky that night. Alaric had stirred beside him, waking him in a panic. Astarion had thought it was his insatiable sexual appetite, but it turned out to be a different kind of appetite. He usually found it endearing when Alaric tried to bite him back, but that night was terrifying. It was more unnerving than he would ever let on. He hated Shadowheart at that moment, but even worse, he hated that she was right. Alaric was getting worse. 

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. If it comes to it, we all must agree about what must be done.” Shadowheart put a hand on his arm. It was an uncharacteristic gesture and one that was oddly meaningful to Astarion. “You’re closest to him. You will be the first he’ll kill.”

“If it comes to it…” Astarion trailed off.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Shadwoheart said, “I’m sorry to cast a cloud on your day. But please, think about it.” She moved to get up and leave, but Astarion grabbed her wrist, maybe a little too hard.

“If it comes to it,” he repeated, “I will be the one to kill him. If it comes to it, it has to be me.”

“I understand,” she said, “I’ll tell the others. Take care of yourself out here, Astarion. Who knows what eyes Cazador controls.”

Astarion had almost forgotten how much better everything looked in the shadows and moonlight. The city appeared exposed under the harsh light of the noon sun. He could see every little flaw, every piece of filth, the antics of day drinkers, and the stench of the masses was unbearable. It felt utterly claustrophobic. His mood soured, and he spitefully cursed Shadowheart, even though it wasn't really her fault. She had brought the truth—an unwanted, hurtful truth, but truth nonetheless. Part of him wanted to take Alaric’s side, no matter what happened. Let him kill them all. Let him break the world if he wished. Astarion could care less about the rest as long as he was safe. But deep down, he knew he would never be safe with someone like that. Had he traded one mad master for another?

Astarion found a small tavern near the docks, knowing that the rest of their motley crew would never step foot inside. This place was below even the standards of Cazador's hunting grounds, making it the perfect hideaway for him to brood in peace. He ordered a drink for a reason to be there, with no intention of letting the filthy mug touch his lips.

It was past noon, and he knew Alaric would be looking for him. A pang of guilt washed over him, but he brushed it aside. He was his own man, and if he chose to be alone, that was his decision. If he wanted to waste the day in the dirtiest tavern in the city, he would. It was such a simple thing: free will. He relished exercising it every moment he could, especially since he could lose it in an instant if Cazador learned he was back in the city.

The exertion of his free will didn’t last long. Astarion had barely removed his cloak when Alaric sauntered through the door. Astarion sighed, unsure whether to feel annoyed or pleased at the sight of his lover. Alaric didn’t spot him immediately, and Astarion made no move to change that. He observed the tiefling as he approached the bar, trying to catch the attention of the half-dozing barkeep. Astarion did enjoy the view from behind—those sculpted legs, thick and powerful, culminating in the most delicious ass. 

As if he sensed Astarion's gaze, Alaric turned around and spotted him. The change in Alaric's expression—from worry to relief—was genuine, and the toothy grin that followed was captivating. Astarion found it difficult to remain annoyed; that smile could charm even the coldest of hearts. How utterly irritating.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Alaric said.

“Of course you were, sweetness,” Astarion replied. “Gods forbid a man should find a moment of peace.”

“I’m wounded,” Alaric exclaimed, sitting down next to Astarion. “I was worried. Every day that Cazador lives, I will worry about you.”

Astarion’s coldness melted away. How could anyone stay angry with him? Sure, he had his flaws. What’s a little murder and chaos in camp every now and then compared to basking in the warmth of that tender, yet savage, love? It was a thousand times better than simply sitting in the sun.

“I know things have been strange lately for all of us. Being back here... I don’t think any of us expected it to be this difficult. But we are here now, and with each moment of darkness that passes while that bastard is still alive, you are at risk. We need to make our move.” Alaric sounded determined.

“You really mean it, don’t you?” Astarion asked, his disbelief evident in his tone. “You actually intend to help me.”

“I have told you I would. I've said it many times. We all have. Just like we helped Shadowheart with the Sharrans. We won’t save Baldur’s Gate by abandoning each other.”

“Careful, darling, you’re starting to sound like a hero,” Astarion teased. 

Alaric took Astarion’s chin in his hand and tilted his head slightly to kiss him. “I’m not a hero; I just don’t want to lose you. That’s why I need to ask you for something that you’re not going to like.”

Astarion’s defenses shot up, his heart rate quickened, and his muscles tensed. Here it was, after all this time. Nobody could love him without a price. There was always a cost.

Alaric kissed him again, fiercely and possessively. “Easy,” he said as he pulled back. “It’s not what you think. I need you to tell me what happened to you—though not everything; we don’t have the time. Just some of it. I need to understand what drives him and what he is capable of if we hope to defeat him.”

Astarion sighed. He was tired of doing hard things. Just once, could they pick the easy way out? Maybe it wasn’t the thing he feared, having to sell himself for love. But it was almost as bad. He didn’t want Alaric to see him as he was, a slave and plaything. He didn’t want to relive it. He had avoided confronting it for so long. When he did speak of it, he spoke from a distance that kept him safe, to relay information, to convince people of Cazador’s depravity. This was different. This was Alaric—the thought of baring his pain under the tiefling’s fervent gaze was more terrifying than facing Cazador himself. But despite that, he felt oddly compelled to tell his story, like a chance to alleviate some of the weight of the past.

“I’m going to tell you this once, and then never again. I am going to speak and you are going to listen. I will not be taking questions. Please reserve all your indignant rage for when we kill Cazador, yes?”

“I promise, consider me mute from now until you are finished.”

Astarion smirked. “What a lovely change of pace that will be, darling.”

[lachelledavies-winchester]

When the Winchesters discovered that Bobby had remained as a ghost, at his request they said nothing to her and continued to see him in the moments when she was not there, until, realizing the violent path he had taken, he asked them to set the flask on fire.

"Where is Lachelle?" asked the elder as the two set the fire.

"With Castiel, right now she is the only one who is behind him on existential questions and wacky ideas. Since he's gone crazy they get along better," Dean replied.

"Don't tell her about my Swayze adventure," the hunter looked at the two in turn. "That's not what I taught her, I don't want to disappoint her, and I don't want you to, so finish this because it's your job, not for revenge. Treasure what she says; she's young but she's smart. And don't twist a hair on her head or you will wish you had never been born."

After the farewell, they set out for the hut where they had left the Davies, the angel and Meg. They walked in silence, accompanied by the rustling of leaves under their shoes. 

"Is it my impression or did he have it in for you?" Sam asked his brother, but he shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Come on, I see you two being together all the time." 

"Can't I have a friend?"

"But if all you do is drool after her."

"Is it my fault that my eyes are working? But I would never do anything to jeopardize the relationship." he tried to sound confident and resumed walking toward the cabin.

"What if she wants it instead? I mean, she's around you and maybe Bobby noticed it too."

"Cut it out. Bobby is paranoid and she is his daughter. Did you expect him to say hurt her?"

He climbed the porch steps and rushed to see what was going on.

"I don't want it, Castiel. That's the tenth one you've made." she ranted, looking at the demon, and the demon grabbed the sandwich and put it in the refrigerator with the others.

"A slayer, a demon, and an angel. Is Gerard Damiano the Director?" he snickered, motioning for his friend to take two steps into the green under the dark sky of that night.

"If these are to be my days, I'm glad tomorrow is the last one." she sighed, walking beside a very quiet Dean; he was reflecting on their relationship, which had grown deeper and deeper, but the fact that they were having sex together did not imply a romantic connotation, and he did not want to lose that complicity.

"Speaking of last night and porn directors..." he lowered his tone and grabbed her arm. 

Leaning with his back against a light pole, he brought the woman's body within inches of his own, facing each other.

"Do you want to leave something for posterity?" she proposed, resting her hands on his chest, playing with the collar of his shirt under the jacket. "As long as no one sees it." 

"Do you trust me that much?"

The woman squared him intensely, tilting her head and squinting her eyes, then smiled.

"Yes."

This is how Lachelle, born as Davies, raised as Singer, lived as Winchester. Her presence did not change the dynamics between the brothers, but it established a new balance, became an added value of a compact family unit that had its own way of functioning; somewhat interdependent, but together they were able to move forward, knew how to give themselves the strength to face what awaited them along the dark path of life, each facing their own demons, but together with others.

And this is the last cut. You can read the last chapter here.

[borrowedtimeandspace]

Fate Is Kind

4. Stargazing

From this list of gt prompts

AU: To The Nines (Nine AU); set after The Vanishing Box, immediately after Zepheera agrees to travel with the Doctor.

~~~

"Right, then! Your choice, Zepheera: where do you want to go?"

Zepheera was at a loss. While she and the Doctor had decided to put the time aspect of their travels second, since at nearly 80 years old she had spent quite a lot of her life watching the world around her change. She was also fully aware that she had only inhabited a small corner of the wider world, well-traveled as she was for a borrower. She hardly knew where to begin.

"I… we can go anywhere in the whole world?" Zepheera reiterated.

The Doctor's patient smile widened to a proper grin as he clarified, "Anywhere at all in the universe."

"Universe…" Zepheera breathed. She knew the word, having lived alongside humans for so long, but this was the first time she'd been made to grapple with its meaning.

Sensing this, the Doctor held out a hand for the tiny woman to step onto from her perch on the console. "Come here. I'll show you."

Zepheera complied, intrigued. The Time Lord deposited her into his shoulder to free up his hands, and then Zepheera had to cling to the leather lapel of his jacket as he began piloting the TARDIS. The console room rattled only for a moment before going still; he didn't need to fly far to get his point across. 

"Deep breath," he said as he walked down to the TARDIS doors, his tone light enough to give Zepheera the impression that it wasn't so much a warning of danger. More of a reminder that she had no idea what she was about to witness, and to prepare herself as best as she could.

She breathed in slow, and out slow. "I'm ready."

That might have felt true when she said it, but nothing could have made her ready to see what was on the other side of those doors.

Zepheera, all four and a half inches of her, had to look down to find the Earth. She felt her stomach flip to find it so far below. It took her a moment of recovery to make the connection of what she was looking at, to images and models of the globe that she'd seen in passing throughout her life. Oceans. Landmasses. Storms. Ice caps.

The world.

If that wasn't enough, the rest wasn't any less overwhelming. It was like the night sky, deeper and darker than she could ever have imagined, and yet shimmering with thousands upon thousands of stars. So many more than Zepheera had ever seen before. 

All previous vertigo faded away, replaced with a vivid memory that Zepheera hadn't thought about in ages. Back when she was just a kid, barely into her teenage years, and her uncle… her surrogate father, Boston, took her up to see the night sky for the first time.

“Which star am I supposed to wish on?” she’d asked him.

Perking up, Zepheera tugged excitedly on the Doctor’s lapel. “Where’s home?”

“Eh?”

“I know where I want to go, but I need to find it. Where did we come from?”

Zepheera clung once again as the Doctor leaned slightly out of the doors, pointing down toward the globe below. “Northern hemisphere, see that little island glowing in the dark?”

Hoping for a better look, Zepheera skirted around the back of the Doctor’s collar to the opposite shoulder, and had started to follow the path his arm made when walking very suddenly became quite difficult. Like someone cut an invisible tether that made sure she could stay grounded in each step.

“Oi! Careful!” the Doctor chided, reaching out his other hand to cup around the borrower to keep her from floating off. “I’ve extended the air shell, but just because you’re protected from the vacuum of space doesn’t mean you won’t float off!”

When Zepheera glanced back at him with a rather apprehensive look, the Doctor realized that she didn’t have a clue about the dangers of space. “Oh. Right, well… just don’t run ‘round like that for a while, not til you’re used to all this.”

She nodded, steadying herself against the Doctor’s hand as she once again found the island he’d indicated, then turned to search the neverending expanse of stars for just the right one. Zepheera tried to find the right angle, see which stars she would have been looking toward all those years ago.

“There!” Zepheera pointed to a cluster of stars that were unmistakably the same ones, albeit from a different angle than she was used to. When she was a kid, it looked like a fishhook to her, and right at the bottom of it, where a line would be tied if it were a real one… There was the star that she had made a wish on. A wish that was finally coming true after 65 years.

Please take me far away from here…

Zepheera’s hopeful violet gaze turned to meet the Doctor’s. “Can we go there?”

Following her finger, the Doctor’s smile began to return as he recognized that particular star. “The heart of the lion,” he mused. “Oh, I know exactly where to take you.”

“The what?” Zepheera wondered, clinging to one of the Doctor’s fingers as he leaned back into the TARDIS. It was a bizarre sensation to feel weight return to her body once they crossed the threshold.

“Humans call shapes in star systems constellations,” he explained while he deposited Zepheera back to the shoulder she started out on. “They called that one Leo, because it’s sort of shaped like a lion…”

The doors of the TARDIS creaked shut as the pair of travelers disappeared inside, and before long it began to vanish in time with the most wonderful sound in the universe.