#the human body really is a fucked up thing

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠—𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: You and your hubby Hyunjin go out shopping when he sees a cute toddler running around the mall laughing and giggling. The little human catches your husband's attention, sparking an enormous baby fever, so now he wants a kid with you...

Content Warnings: Pregnancy. Smut 🔞, Unprotected sex, baby making, soft Hyunjin, fluff, pet names (use of mama (only twice)), oral (f.recieving), very brief mention of lactation, reader is called darling.

Note: I know not many enjoy the pregnancy trope but I really really wanted to write this. I just love husband/dad!SKZ. (I definitely am not going through insane baby fever rn). This is so fucking sweet my teeth might fall off.

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.1k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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“Darling, don't you want to go?” Hyunin cooed, his words vibrating on your skin, his eyes admiring you cutely being adamant to get up.

Your eyes were half lidded, your head against his chest, feeling the soothing heartbeats under your ear. Hyunjin woke you up with kisses and an amazing orgasm, with his face buried in your heat in the morning.

He couldn't believe that it's almost going to be a year since you got married.

Hyunjin and you planned to go shopping for the day, get some donuts and perhaps watch a newly released movie. You loved such cute dates with him even though he loves spoiling you with extravagant trips like a dinner in the Eiffel Tower or a week long vacation in Maldives.

But the simplicity of these outings was what you cherished most.

“I’m getting up,” you mumbled sleepily, though you made no effort to move.

Hyunjin chuckled, the warm melody of his voice that only deepened your reluctance to leave the cocoon of his arms. His fingers brushed over your hair as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Take your time,” he said softly, his breath tickling your skin. “I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

You smiled, your eyes still closed, nuzzling to him, cheek pressed against his bare chest and his embrace tightening around your body.

After some coaxing and spending a long time in the shower together, you both managed to get ready.

You got dressed in a cute flowy dress that you knew Hyunjin loved. You stepped out of the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of bed, his grin widened when he saw you spinning once to show off the outfit.

“Gorgeous as ever,” he murmured, reaching out to take your hand. You slipped your hand in his and went downstairs, giving a quick smooch to your pet golden who was sleeping soundly on his bed and left your mansion, off to the mall.

***

The mall was bustling with life, the sound of laughter, chatter, and soft music blending into a lively hum. Hyunjin held your hand firmly, his thumb brushing against your knuckles as you walked past various stores.

You bought a lot of things from new ornaments for your home, snacks, clothes, Hyunjin immediately bought you with a new Versace handbag you were curiously eyeing while window shopping and grabbed lunch in the restaurant on the top floor.

The day went amazing. Once you were done, Hyunjin called his driver to help with the bags while you both got some donuts like he promised.

As you walked over to the bakery, Hyunjin’s attention was caught by a high-pitched giggle. He turned his head, his eyes landing on a tiny toddler, no older than two, stumbling through the crowd, his chubby legs moving as fast as he could.

“Careful!” a frazzled mother called out, chasing after the little one, but the toddler was too busy enjoying his newfound freedom. He bumped into Hyunjin’s leg, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Hello there,” Hyunjin said softly, crouching to the toddler's level. His long fingers reached out hesitantly, offering a small wave. The toddler giggled again, reaching for his hand as if he just made a new best friend.

Your heart swelled at the sight. Hyunjin had always been good with kids, but seeing him interact with this tiny human stirred something deeper in you. The mother finally caught up, her chest heaving, but not disturbing the interaction with Hyunjin.

“Sorry about that,” the mother apologized, “He just loves to run around.”

“Please don't worry. He's so cute,” your smile reached your ears, watching how the toddler was laughing and playing peekaboo with Hyunjin.

You and the mother conversed for a minute before she scooped her child into her arms. Hyunjin stood up, watching them with a wistful expression as they walked away. The kid smiled wide and waved goodbye to him.

“You’re staring,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze still lingering as the mother disappeared into the crowd. When he finally turned to you, his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen, his lips curling into a small, almost shy smile.

“Gosh, how freaking cute. I think my heart burst inside me.” He dramatically touched his chest that made you chuckle and shake your head.

“I think you're the cutie here,” you flirted with your husband that made his cheeks bloom in a bright shade of pink.

You grabbed your donuts and walked another round in the mall, before you hopped in the car going back home. Hyunjin didn't speak a word, just stared outside the window holding your hand tightly, your head rested on his shoulder.

Once you reached home, the driver unloaded the bags from the car into the living room, you and Hyunjin went upstairs to your bedroom.

Closing the door, you walked towards your dressing table, removing your earrings, hairpins and fixing your hair loose.

Hyunjin, who was still lost in his own world, walked towards you and slipped his hands on your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You were pretty quiet on the way back home. Everything okay?” You asked, turning towards him, your gaze fixed on his eyes.

“Yeah…” He mumbled softly and you tilted your head curiously, your brows knitted together.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible, he felt his heart pound in his chest like a drum. It was unusual for Hyunjin to feel nervous but he was feeling a bit nervous today.

“Think about what?” you asked, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Having one of our own,” he said, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “A little one… running around and giggling. Someone who’s a part of both of us.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with emotion. You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze.

“Hyunne,” you began, your voice faltering.

“I know,” he said quickly, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

“I know we’ve never talked about it seriously. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay. I just… I can’t stop thinking about it and seeing that kid at the mall...His small hands and legs, chubby and so cute. I don't want to pressure you, let's—”

“I…I want that too.” you whispered, interrupting him, reaching to hold his hand against your cheek. “I want to have a baby with you…to start a family with you.”

You’d always known Hyunjin would make an amazing father, but hearing him voice his desire so openly, so vulnerably—it left you speechless.

Hyunjin stared at you without saying a word, his gaze softening and sparkling, almost as if he was about to cry.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple flexing, a dimple making an appearance as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You'd be an amazing mom.” He said, his voice full with emotion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of them settling in your chest. "And you’d be the best dad," you replied, a small laugh escaping you as you imagined him doting on a child the same way he doted on you.

"You think you're ready for this darling?" Hyunjin’s question lingered in the air, his voice low and husky, filled with a mix of tenderness and curiosity.

You nodded slowly. "I do," you whispered, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

It was a huge step but it was with Hyunjin and you couldn't have asked for more.

His thumb touched your chin, gently pulling you in for a long, searing kiss. His mouth moved over yours, tongue slipping in, you let him take the lead like you always did, your fingers running through the silk stands of his hair.

His fingers toyed with the strap of your dress, you walked backwards, pulling him and unbuttoning his shirt till you reached the end of the bed and fell softly on the mattress.

It didn't take long for him to remove the dress off of you, you pushed the shirt off his shoulder and played with his belt to unbuckle it, and soon enough it was skin to skin contact.

Hyunjin’s lips met your jaw, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, his fingertips stroking your nipple that hardened instantly under his touch. His trail reached your neck when he nipped your sensitive skin, leaving marks on your neck to remind you that you were his.

You moaned softly, moving your head slightly to give him better access, his hand continued to explore every dip of your body. His other hand intertwined with yours, the heat building slowly, the desire to have him inside you fueling with every passing second.

When his fingertips brushed over your clit, you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips. The slow exploration continued till he touched your slick folds, you felt him smirking against your skin knowing how wet you were.

“Hyun…” you pleaded, your fingers tangling his hair, growing impatient but wanting him to keep going.

Hyunjin was dragging it for as long as he could, his touch being so gentle, caressing your body like you were a goddess, his fingers circled your clit with a tantalizing rhythm, his movements precise and slow. Your body reacted instinctively, hips arching to meet his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

“Patience baby okay…?” He murmured, his voice low but soothing. “I want you to feel everything tonight.” His breath was warm against your ear, and the rasp in his tone made your stomach clench with anticipation.

You nodded, your body already surrendering to his every touch. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice laced with awe.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking over the hardened peak as his fingers worked their magic below, dipping inside your folds. The combination had your head spinning, the pleasure building steadily, consuming you.

“Hyunjin please,” you begged, your voice breathy and desperate.

“Not yet,” he whispered, releasing the slick nub with a pop, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach.

His mouth replaced his fingers, tongue slipping between your folds, tasting you with deliberate slowness.

You gasped, your hands snaking his hair as his tongue worked its way around your clit, the sensation sending sparks through your body. He alternated between gentle flicks and firm pressure, his pace maddeningly perfect.

You squirmed and he scooped his arms under your thighs to hold you in place. Wetness coated his face, the scent of your arousal making him dizzy and groan into your sensitive flesh, his hands kneading your pretty mounds.

When his mouth left your dripping core, you mourned at the loss of it, but the anticipation built in a flash when he positioned himself between your legs.

You watched him stroke himself a few times with the essence of your arousal still coating his fingers.

His gaze locked with yours as he slid inside you slowly, both of you moaning at the feeling. His cock stretching your walls was delicious, you eagerly welcomed his length inch by inch, his movements deliberate and controlled as he filled you completely.

Hyunjin leaned down, his lips brushing against yours as he began to move, his rhythm slow and sensual. Every thrust was measured, his hips rolling against yours as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

His hand intertwined with yours, pinning them above your head and the other cupped your breast, kneading it and flicking the peak.

“You feel so good darling,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “So beyond perfect.”

Moan after moan poured out of your lips, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word sinking deep into your hearts.

He made love to you so wondrously that your body went lithe beneath him, the pleasure built high, Hyunjin’s pace quickened slightly, his movements still controlled but more urgent.

He placed his palm over your lower tummy, gently pressing and circling it to stimulate you more.

“Let go with me,” he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

He was drenched in sweat, the intense throbbing of his cock making him feel like he might explode any second.

It only took his words to undo you as you surrendered to the pleasure, body seizing up, the wave of your orgasm crashing over you. The sensation consumed you both as he followed close behind, hot cum filling you, his groan of pleasure muffled against your neck.

Hyunjin held you close as you both came down in a toe curling climax, your bodies tangled together, hearts racing in unison.

He gently lowered himself down, careful not to crush you with his weight, his softening cock and warm cum still buried inside you.

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his lips meeting yours.

You looked at him, chest still heaving, and smiled softly when he pulled back. “I love you,” you said, your voice full of certainty.

“I love you more,” he replied, his forehead resting against yours.

~

The afternoon sun crept through the windows of your living room windows, you sat on the couch with your ankles crossed on the coffee table, reading a book when suddenly your golden retriever came up in front of you wagging his tail.

“Hey baby,” you stroked his head, he began leaning up to your touch instantly that made you smile.

You continued petting him when he leaned forward and rested his head against your stomach, his eyes closing and tail still wagging.

“Aren't you being clingy today?” You said jokingly, he blinked lazily at you, his breathing like a soft motor vibrating against you. You chuckled, setting your book aside to give him your full attention.

But as you absentmindedly stroked his fur, you noticed something unusual. Your stomach felt… different. Not painful, but there was a faint flutter, a sensation so subtle that it could easily be dismissed.

You frowned slightly, brushing it off as your imagination or maybe just a quirk of digestion.

Your mind did keep wandering over the fact that you couldn't sleep well for the past week and you kept feeling more tired than usual, without even doing anything.

Now, as you sat there with your dog contentedly laying against your stomach, you couldn’t help but wonder something.

Right as you were about to get back to your book to stop overthinking, you heard the familiar sound of an engine pulling up at the entrance. The door opened followed by Hyunjin, stepping in, his hair slightly tousled.

“Hey, darling,” he greeted, his eyes instantly finding yours. A smile spread across his face when he saw the dog sleeping on your lap. “Looks like someone beat me to cuddling you.”

You laughed, gesturing toward the furry intruder. “He’s been glued to me all afternoon. I think he knows I was planning to get up and clean.”

“Guess he’s trying to keep you in one spot. Smart guy.” Hyunjin leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before stroking the dog’s head.

The dog let out a low bark in protest when Hyunjin’s hand brushed yours, as if annoyed at being interrupted. Hyunjin laughed, his dimple making an appearance. “Alright, alright. I’ll share,” he teased, sliding onto the couch beside you.

You rested your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, locking fingers with him, asking about his day. He went on to talk about things happening at work which you never get tired of listening to and the afternoon went on yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different.

Could it really be? But you dismissed it as wishful thinking.

~

Two lines. On one test.

Pregnant. On another test.

Your heart was in your throat. Hand covering your mouth as you stared at the test in front of you, you couldn't believe it. A tidal wave of happiness and disbelief washed over you, both the tests screaming at you about the happiest news of your life.

You grabbed the test with the two red lines on it, holding it in your fist and walked out of the bathroom, spotting Hyunjin who was sitting on the bed with his laptop open.

“Hyunne,” you called out and walked towards him, kneeling down on the floor and hiding your hands behind you.

“Yes baby?” He asked curiously and you pulled your hand from your back, revealing the test to him.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, closing his laptop shut and tossing it next to him, a smile resembling shock and joy plastered across his face.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice shaking with excitement and disbelief.

You nodded eagerly, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks. “We're pregnant Hyunne! You're going to be a dad!”

As soon as the words left your lips, a wave of pure, uncontainable happiness surged through you. You shot up from your kneeling position, jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning, laughter spilling from you uncontrollably.

Hyunjin stood quickly, grabbing your hands to stop your excited bouncing. “Darling, wait!” he said with a laugh, his tone laced with affection and concern. He caught you effortlessly, his arm locking around your shoulders, pulling you in a tight embrace, his palm pressing and circling your stomach.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin. “We’re going to be parents,” he said, his voice trembling.

You felt him shake slightly, and when he pulled back, you saw tears glistening in his eyes. His hands instantly chipped your face as he kissed you passionately, soft and full of promises, you couldn't help the tears that leaked from the corners of your eyes.

Hyunjin knelt down pulling apart and his arms snaking around your waist, his lips pressing on your stomach before looking up at you with a smile so radiant it took your breath away. Your fingers ran through his hair, holding him in place as he bonded with his baby.

It was the most beautiful thing you ever witnessed.

~

Five beautiful months passed and your love for your baby grew stronger each day. Hyunjin was so supportive, from helping you with your awful morning sicknesses to putting your shoes on.

He provided you with an infinite amount of love, snacks, cuddles and of course sex. Your hormones were all over the place, and Hyunjin made sure to meet your every need, no matter how big or small.

He was always attentive, patient, and there to remind you just how much he loved you.

Even when you felt bloated, cranky, or unattractive, he’d look at you as though you were the most beautiful woman in the world. “You’re glowing,” he would say, his hands resting gently on your growing belly as he admired you.

Evenings became your favourite part of the day as Hyunjin and you took a daily walk with your golden. He insisted on carrying a water bottle and a jacket for you, just in case you needed it. His hand never left yours, as you strolled through the neighborhood.

Everyday he would talk to the baby, about his day or anything that came to his mind, rubbing smooth circles on your swollen belly, his voice soft and full of excitement.

“I’ll teach you how to draw like me, and maybe we can even paint murals together someday,” your heart melted every time at how sweet he was.

Just like Hyunjin, your dog was also extra, extra clingy, always walking around the house with you as if he was protecting you or curling up beside you on the couch, his head resting on your tummy as if he could sense the tiny life growing inside you.

Hyunjin would chuckle every time he caught the sight, teasing, “Looks like someone’s trying to win the ‘favorite sibling’ title already.”

You’d laugh, gently scratching behind your dog’s ears. “He’s just protective, like you,” you say, smiling at how your little family was already bonding in its own unique way.

Your doctor’s appointment was this morning, you were laying on your back on the hospital bed as she spread the cool gel on your belly, the sensation making you shiver slightly.

Hyunjin stood by your side, holding your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles to calm you. His face was a mix of excitement and nerves, his eyes fixed on the screen as the doctor prepared the ultrasound.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the machine, and then it happened, a rhythmic, steady sound filled the air. Your baby’s heartbeat.

The doctor smiled, pointing at the screen. “There’s your little one. Everything looks perfect. Nice strong heartbeat, healthy growth. Congratulations.”

The grainy black-and-white image showed the tiny life growing inside you. “It’s real,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing.” His voice was thick with love and emotion.

“You need a lot of care darling, we should go home soon.” He said concerned.

You turned from the screen and looked at him shaking your head. “Nope. I want to go on a honeymoon.” You said trying to sound serious which made Hyunjin chuckle.

“Honeymoon? Baby, that's for newly married couples.” He said brushing away a strand of hair from your face.

“Newly pregnant couples can go as well,” you said. “I want to go on a honeymoon and then go home.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, then shook his head, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a grin.

Once the ultrasound was over, the doctor printed out the pictures and handed them to you, Hyunjin held them like they were the most precious treasure.

As you left the appointment, Hyunjin was on his phone, booking days at a beautiful resort on the same day for one week; a private villa with a serene spa, and cozy restaurants with candlelit dinners.

Your face bloomed with excitement as the two of you drove home and packed your essentials for your one amazing “honeymoon”.

~

After a whole day of sun bathing, a relaxing spa and an amazing dinner, Hyunjin and you were back in your bedroom in the cozy villa.

He was massaging your swollen feet after a lot of walking, you sat on the bed, your back pressed against the headboard.

Watching Hyunjin be so patient with you, made your heart swell with adoration and your hormones kicking back in again, making you feel needy.

“Hyunne,” you called him, who was rubbing gentle circles on your ankles, your voice low and soft.

“Yeah darling?” His expression softened further when he noticed the way your cheeks flushed and your lips parted slightly, like you were searching for the right words.

“Come here,” you murmured, your voice carrying a mix of longing.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding as you searched his gaze, pecking his lips. “I just… I want you,” you admitted softly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his black tank top.

“You have me,” he replied, his voice a gentle caress. “Always.”

“No,” you said with a soft laugh, shaking your head as your hands slid up to his chest, fingers tracing over the top. “I mean, I need you. Right now.”

“Are you sure, baby?” He was concerned but it also sparked excitement within him at the same time, he stroked your tinted cheek smiling warmly.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, leaning into him, your lips brushing against his. “I want to feel close to you.”

Hyunjin didn’t need any more convincing. He kissed you deeply, his lips moving over yours with a slow, deliberate intensity that made your toes curl.

His hands slipped up your waist under his hoodie you were wearing, stroking your skin lightly before it traveled downwards, toying with the waistband of your panties.

You shifted, letting him slide it off you, his hand squeezing your thigh that made you moan into his mouth. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your thigh before it continued moving, he pulled back, his eyes sparkling with nothing but love.

“You’re so beautiful mama,” velvet laced his voice, the new nickname made your cheeks flush in heat.

Hyunjin removed his tank top and held the hem of his hoodie, you nodded, letting him remove it off your head, leaving you bare in front of him.

His eyes drank the sight before him. Your swollen and sensitive breasts, glowing belly that’s carrying your child, something dangerously possessive consumed him but he mentally promised himself to be gentle.

He laid your back on the mattress, his mouth meeting yours, long, sweet and tenderly, swiping his tongue over the seam of your lips that sent a jolting sensation through his veins.

His hand circled your belly and massaged your swollen breasts making you moan, feeling relieved as your fingers immediately tugged his hair.

A thumb brushed over the sensitive bud, a wet droplet soaked his fingetip and heat pooled between your legs, your thighs squeezed together. You pulled apart and looked down at his finger stroking your leaky nipple, he couldn't help but smile at your flushing face.

He found that more sexier than anything.

His face dipped in your chest, lips meeting your warm skin, it was addicting. You were addicting to him. Your hands roamed over his back, as his kisses trailed lower, following the curve of your body like a path only he knew.

Hyunjin felt your fingers press on his shoulders, guiding him, urging him forward with a silent plea that he was more than willing to answer.

The sight of you lying beneath him, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, your breath catching in your throat, it was like witnessing heaven.

He spread your legs apart, his lips finding the soft skin of your thigh. He pressed a lingering kiss there, feeling the muscles beneath your skin tense and then relaxed as he made his way closer to your centre.

The sight of your pussy so slick and swollen with arousal stirred something primal inside him. His fingers gently spread your wet folds, revealing your beautiful core, a hiss escaped your lips at the contact.

"Do you want my mouth darling? Hmm?" He coaxed, teasing you, placing a feather light on your clit.

"Want me to eat your pretty pussy and make you come?" The raspiness coating his voice made a shiver run down your spine, you nodded, chest heaving.

"Please— please Hyun... I need you on me." You pleaded which also sounded like a command that made him chuckle lowly.

His breath fanned over your sensitive skin and when his mouth met where you needed him the most, your back arched ever so slightly off the bed, a whimper escaping from you.

"Hyunjin..." You gasped, your voice trembling with need, your fingers sliding into his hair, tugging lightly as though you couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or keep him there, teasing you forever.

He didn't respond. Instead he smirked against you, his tongue flicked your folds and sucked on your clit that had you squirming. His tongue circled the bud in almost lazy strokes that had you sighing his name like a prayer.

He let his hands slid up your thighs, spreading you wider as he went, giving himself more room to work and taste. His left hand rested on your belly, his thumb brushing back and forth, the cold wedding band on his ring finger touching your heated skin.

His cock twitched and strained his pants, begging for his attention and dive inside you, but he shoved it aside even though the throbbing felt painful. He wouldn't do that.

He loved bringing you to the edge and tease you till you were a squirming mess.

Your breaths turned erratic when his tongue moved faster, you were lost in your haze of pleasure and whimpers growing louder, hips jerking as you clung onto Hyunjin like he was your lifeline.

The tingles built up way faster than it would normally, you would have found it embarrassing if you weren't pregnant.

Hyunjin's eyes were glued on you, knowing that you were only a few seconds away from snapping, his hands slid up to cup and knead your breasts, causing liquid to leak out of your peaking sensitive nipples.

"I'm close... I'm so close please..." You breathed.

With one last languid lick on your pulsing bud, you crashed down, only his name pouring out of your lips, your orgasm flooding in his mouth. Hyunjin lapped up every single drop, helping you ride out your pleasure until you were gasping and trembling from the aftershocks.

Once your climax subsided, Hyunjin trailed his way up, kissing every part of your body, your thighs, your belly and the swell of your breasts that were soaked with leaked milk.

Right this moment you looked way more gorgeous than you ever did before to his eyes. He had put a baby in you, his pride was uncontrollable.

"You okay darling?" He asked, brushing away the strands of hair sticking on your face and kissing away the tears that rolled down your cheeks that were flushed pink.

You nodded breathlessly, pulling him so your mouth met his. You could taste yourself off his lips.

Hyunjin smiled, “Come on mama, let's get you cleaned up.” And he gently scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

~

4 months later

“SHE'S HERE!”

The wailing protest of cries of your newborn echoed, bouncing off the walls of the labour room. Tears had run down your cheeks, Hyunjin’s eyes were wide with disbelief, a hand covering his mouth as you both welcomed your baby to the world.

The nurse quickly cleaned and handed your baby girl over to you, wrapped in a neat towel, the bundle of joy snuggling and sleeping soundly against your chest.

“Hello baby,” you said softly, your pinkie finger stroking her cheek. “I'm your mom.”

Tears kept rolling down your face, Hyunjin was there by your side the entire time, his heart clenching with an unbearable amount of love and awe as he watched his wife and his baby.

You looked up at him, seeing his eyes swelled with unshed tears, he leaned down to press his lips on yours, his breath hitching.

“Thank you for this baby,” his voice cracked as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple, his lips trembling against your skin. “Thank you for being so brave darling. You're incredible.”

Your smile widened despite the exhaustion, and you reached up to wipe away the tear that slipped down Hyunjin’s cheek. “We did this together,” you whispered. “She’s a part of us, Hyunne.”

Hyunjin nodded, his fingers shaking as he gently caressed the tiny hand that peeked out of the blanket. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just like her mom.”

The baby stirred slightly, her tiny lips parting as she let out a soft, content sigh. Hyunjin chuckled softly, his eyes glued to her delicate features—her button nose, rosy cheeks, the faint wisps of hair on her head.

You scooted a bit so that Hyunjin could sit next to you, you gently handed him your baby, he carefully held her in his arms, his heart thundering behind his ribcage.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered. “I’m your daddy. And I promise to protect you and your mama with everything I have.”

Tears welled in your eyes again at his words, and you reached and kissed him on the cheek, watching him already become the best father in the world.

“We’re a family now,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude.

Hyunjin smiled nodding, his gaze never leaving your daughter. “The best family.” He said looking at you, his voice unwavering.

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the hospital window, painting the room in soft gold, this was the beginning of the most beautiful chapter of your lives.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[angellic4l]

boys, bets, and sobriquets - d.m

in which; fem!bau!reader and derek make a deal that causes an argument 3 months later

content: tw! reader has something similar to an anxiety attack but it isn’t specified as that! flirty!derek, bau!reader, hurt comfort (?), angst, fluff, there’s a ‘bet’ made, reader has a shitty date, swearing/cussing, they argue ofc, one bed trope.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: my first ever request!! i’m so honoured and just happy that someone trusted me with their vision, i hope this is what you wanted angel! kisses!

Faint sounds of the regular office shenanigans danced around the bullpen; soft clicks of computer keyboards, Reid flipping the pages of some obscure novel at a super human speed, Andersen brewing a pot of coffee, and the scrawl of your pen on a case file all coming together to sing the corporate symphony.

One noise was missing though, the sound of Derek’s chair moving side to side as he talks to everyone and anyone possible rather than actually doing his work. His voice rings out from by the glass doors and your head rises from the manilla folder to see what’s going on. His eyes meet yours, an arrogant, self-satisfied smirk on his face, one that tells you he actually got the new receptionist’s number.

Morgan takes his seat across from yours, looking at you expectantly, awaiting your questioning of his absence or why he’s so happy. Instead, you shake your head at him but the smile on your face betrays your mock disapproval. With a soft sigh, your hand loosens its grip around the pen, letting it drop to the oak desk beneath you.

“Alright, I’ll bite. You got the receptionist’s number, I’m guessing?”

“Number? No, no, baby girl, I got a date and her number. You underestimate my charm.”

“Right, I forgot that you were such a CasaNova.”

“I prefer the term irresistible, sugar.”

“This actually works for you? The whole cocky womaniser thing?”

“I’m not cocky. It’s called confidence. And a little sweet talking.”

“Oh, I’m sure they all love your ‘confidence’. I refuse to believe any respectable woman would fall for that,” you tease, tone making it clear you’re joking.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t fall for all of this,” he retorts, hand gesturing from his face down to his torso.

“In all seriousness, I really wouldn’t. You’re not my type, D.”

“Not your type? Sugar, don’t play with me right now.”

“I’m not! I just wouldn’t fall for it, it’s not my thing.”

“Let’s make a bet, then. I flirt with you-“

“Absolutely not,” you scoff.

“Let me finish! I flirt with you, you flirt with me, and we’ll see who falls first.”

You ponder his words for a while, going through it in your head. Morgan’s physically attractive, sure, but almost everybody thinks that. With your time at the BAU, you figure if you were going to fall for him, it would’ve happened already. Fuck it, why not?

“You’re on, Morgan. Be warned, you’re gonna fall in love with me.”

That little bet was made 3 months ago. You remember it like it was yesterday because it was the day you subjected yourself to the worst fate possible. Falling fast and hard for Derek Morgan.

Now, every time he flirts with you and you flirt back, it just stings. It’s like a cruel snippet of what could be if he liked you back, if you swallowed your pride and let him win, if you would just tell him. Instead, you reciprocate the flirting, keep your pride intact by never admitting anything, and keep your feelings for him a secret.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A ringing noise rouses you from sleep, the soft vibration of your phone reverberating throughout the oak nightstand to the left of you. It’s not the sound of your alarm, and based on how the only light your eyes had to adjust to came from your phone, you suspect it’s a phone call instead. Another case, presumably.

Tired limbs scramble to find the phone, your hands fumbling until they feel it beneath them, and you pick up without even looking at the contact name. Sleep has yet to leave your body, still lingering like a phantom, so your voice is groggy when you speak.

“Hello?”

“Hi, angel. You know I hate to do this, but Hotch needs everybody in the office in 30. Urgent case,” a soft, saccharine voice rings out, one you recognise as Penelope’s.

“M’kay. Be there soon, Penny. Love you.”

“I love you too, dear,” she says before the line goes dead, leaving you in silence once more.

As you pull the phone away from your ear, your eyes catch the time displayed on the phone: 2:36 AM. A groan escapes your lips when you realise it had only been 5 hours since you left the BAU, 3 of which you’d been asleep for. Being called in after just coming back from a case was annoying, but this soon was just infuriating.

By the time you were at the BAU, it was safe for anybody to say, profiler or not, that your mood was absolutely sour. Since Penelope had called you back in, your day had only gotten worse. While in a rush to get ready, hands flying everywhere to rag clothes on, you’d managed to lose an earring. On the way into work, someone had cut you off at an intersection, causing you to slam on your brakes, ultimately sending your coffee all over the passenger seat.

Operating on 3 hours of sleep was easy enough, standard for most FBI agents, especially for you. That wasn’t the issue here, no, it was the fact that you’d been called in after just returning from a week’s long case, the act somehow triggering an infuriating chain of events for you, leaving you earringless, coffeeless, and bitter.

Once everyone else had arrived, it was clear they could sense the sourness radiating from you, only sharing small greetings instead of sparking up a conversation. Hotch announced the briefing would be done on the plane to save time, prompting everyone to grab their go-bags and start to move.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After shoving your go-bag into the overhead space, more aggressively than needs be, you take a seat around one of the tables and watch as the others follow suit. Everyone seems almost hesitant to sit next to you, hovering before sitting somewhere else, disrupting the order of everyone’s usual seats. It’s sort of understandable, it’s obvious that you’re in a mood of some sorts and they’re probably just trying to give you breathing room, but it’s only annoyed you a little more.

Morgan ends up taking the seat next to you of his own free will, considering there were still 3 empty seats he could’ve sat in. Usually, you’d be happy to have Morgan sit next to you, but most of your conversations involve playful flirting, something you’re not in the mood for right now.

What doesn’t help is your growing feelings for him; on a normal day, playful flirting is hard because you know it doesn’t mean anything, but today isn’t a normal day. Today, you’re pissed off and tired, and the thought of entertaining something that’s only going to make you feel worse is utterly dreadful.

Maybe he’ll spare you, you think, he knows that you’re not in the mood for it, so he might just leave it alone and not say anything. Hotch’s voice steals your attention from the thought, pulling your focus to the case at hand instead.

The briefing moves fast, ideas being bounced around like a ping pong ball being bounced off the pegs in an arcade game, everybody collaborating with different theories, or building on someone else’s. Garcia searches what she can based on the few things you can all profile for certain, but it’s clear that this case won’t be an easy one.

The killer is experienced, that much is obvious, but that means he’s killed before. Where, none of you are sure because VI-CAP doesn’t have a match for the M.O you’ve all decided on. It’s not looking good for the BAU, the case is probably going to span over a week and the thought makes you even more annoyed.

Garcia’s face vanishes from the plasma screen across from you as the team starts to spread out throughout he jet, following the end of the briefing. Majority of the time, you’d sit yourself at the back of the jet and listen to music until you fell asleep, or talk to somebody, but you’re too tired to move from this chair.

Apparently, Morgan shares the same sentiment, unmoving from the spot next to you. Any and all hope of him leaving you alone starts to dissipate, knowing that Derek’s chatty, especially with you, has you dreadfully anticipating his conversation. With your luck, or lack thereof today, it comes.

“Hey, pretty girl. How’s my favourite bombshell?”

“Okay. ‘M just tired.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right, sunshine?”

“Morga-“

“-‘Cause, you haven’t given me any of those sweet names, you’re not even looking at me, and your body language is telling me you’re pissed. What’s wrong, sugar?”

Morgan’s analysis fills you with fear - sure, he’s a profiler and even if he wasn’t, it’s obvious you’re in a shitty mood, but it’s not that - you make sure to hide any tells of the anxiety you’re experiencing. If Morgan can rattle all of that off with so much as one look at you, he’s been profiling you for a while. That means he knows. He knows that you like him. And he still flirts with you anyway?

Even if you didn’t think it possible, you’re even more pissed off with that fact, hell, you’re angry. Who on Earth flirts with someone they know has feelings for them? It’s cruel, hurtful, and disrespectful, none of which you thought Derek was, but clearly you’ve wildly misjudged him.

“What happened to ‘we don’t profile each other’? God, you’re such a dick, Morgan.”

“Hey, what? Mama, what is going on with you?” He asks, clear exasperation and confusion written on his face. You bite down a scoff because of course, he’s playing dumb to it.

“The fact that you’re asking is evidence enough. So obsessed with your own pride that you can’t even see what you’re doing to the people around you? Really? God, Morgan, it’s like you don’t even have eyes,” you snap, tone sharp and cutting.

“Mama, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Back up for a second, obsessed with my own pride? Is this you talking or are you in one of those ‘man-hater’ moods again?”

Morgan’s use of the words ‘man hater mood’ take you back to an incident last month. You bristle at the fact he’s bringing that up, even more so that he doesn’t believe you’re actually mad at him.

It was a Saturday night and you had a date planned, one that, due to the demands of the job, had been rescheduled three times. This time was lucky, though, because you had no case, no paperwork, and no reports due. The guy was lovely, so understanding every time you’d had to reschedule, and he was handsome, too.

Once you’d left work, giddy and smiling to yourself on the drive home, the only thing going through your head was how excited you were for the date. A week before that, you and the girls had gone shopping together, scouring D.C’s small boutiques and high end stores. While with Emily in one of the boutiques, the cutest outfit had caught your eye, it was perfect; your favourite colour, exactly your style, and looked incredibly flattering when you’d tried it on. The girls convinced you to wear it on your date, commenting on how gobsmacked the guy’d be, so you bought it.

After restyling your hair and slipping into the beautiful outfit, you were putting your shoes on at the front door. Midway through slipping your shoes on, your phone buzzed on the side table in the hallway, with bated breath, you crossed your fingers and wished it wasn’t a case. What was on the screen was infinitely worse, though.

date

hey, i don’t think this’ll work. you’re too unreliable for me. kinda crazy you cancelled 3 times for ‘work’ and can now suddenly meet up because we changed it to a restaurant.

To say you were in a foul mood the next day would be the understatement of the century. To cancel because of his reason was insane for many reasons, but the two that pissed you off the most stuck. One - that the date had changed on his accord. The weather wasn’t the greatest, so instead of the picnic in the park that was planned, he’d asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant instead. Two - that he cancelled right before the date, as if he’d just suddenly had a change of heart when he’d clearly summed you up as a gold digger long before.

As you’d walked into the BAU and sat at your desk across from Derek’s, he didn’t notice your mood straight away because he hadn’t looked up yet. So, he operated as usual:

“Good morning, angel. How’s the prettiest lady in the whole FBI?”

“Ugh, don’t even. I’m really not in the mood today, D.”

With that he looked up and his brows immediately furrowed in concern at the annoyed expression on your face, dark circles under your eyes, and the way the light in your eyes had dimmed.

“What’s up? Someone I have to beat up?”

“I hate men. Fucking hate them. They’re all so grimey and disgusting and fucking horrible.”

“Don’t generalise us, sweetheart. What have I ever done to you?”

Instead of giving him a verbal response, you just shot him a glare before turning on your computer and carrying on with your day.

Contrary to your own belief, you could get even angrier than you were, even more annoyed than you thought possible for the already shitty day you’ve been having, and Morgan’s the main reason for this revelation at the moment.

He’s still looking at you, awaiting your answer to his question with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally, you turn your head to look at him, tongue poking the inside of your mouth in some futile attempt to control it. It doesn’t work.

“Wow. You genuinely don’t believe that I could be mad at you, that it’s some other guy’s fault, huh? I’m not in a ‘man hater’ mood, I’m just mad at you! You don’t see what you’re doing Morgan, you’re oblivious to it, and it’s pissing me off.”

“Baby gi-“

“-Just leave me alone, Morga-“

“- Fine.”

A scoff leaves your lips, bitter on your tongue as it escapes because you know you shouldn’t have said it. You know you shouldn’t have opened your mouth, told him how you feel in such a snappy way. You’re in a bad mood, having let the small things get to you, and you like Derek so much that his pet names and his flirting spark fire where they should leave warmth.

As if on cue, he rises from the seat next to you and walks down the aisle in a huff, sits down in an empty seat, and shoves his headphones in. Great. On top of your so-far shitty day, you’ve managed to push away the one person who makes everything instantly better. Probably squashed the tiny chance of him ever liking you back, too.

A sharp pang in your chest leaves you feeling sick, the hurt manifesting itself as something physical deep inside, and you wish you weren’t so difficult. Instead of talking, just simply saying today was going horribly and it had affected your mood, you’d let your astringent tongue take over.

The child inside of you wants to curl up in the fetal position, cry a million rivers over a boy, feel sorry for itself while simultaneously picking at every insecurity she harbours. Instead, you opt for sleeping, a temporary escapism from the shitty position you’ve put yourself in, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After landing in Montana, you’re woken up by Emily’s gentle hand on your shoulder, shaking you ever so slightly. The rest of the team was already making their way off of the jet, go-bags in hand, walking off in a line due to the small aisle. Once your limbs were a bit more awake, you stood up and followed suit.

The team went from the jet to the SUV’s, making their way to the Livingston police department. Your car was semi-silent, the only noises to be heard are the small murmurs of Reid and JJ in the back of the SUV and silent melodies from the radio.

You’re in the passenger seat next to Hotch, while Morgan sits to the left of JJ and Spencer. Usually, he’d be involved in their conversation, cracking jokes and laughing his ass off with them. Instead, he’s silent. The absence of his voice rings loudly in your ears, guilt taking root in the ashes of the previous anger that once burned. It’s your fault he’s not being himself, you just had to open your mouth when you were in a mood, didn’t you?

Eyes watch him discreetly through the rearview mirror, his arms crossed over his chest, half sunken into the leather seat, brooding. Derek’s demeanour and body language is far from how he usually is, distant and angry instead of present and bubbly. He looks so different when he’s like this; distant and angry, far from his bubbly self.

For the rest of the day, it stays the same, Derek seemingly not himself, the same surly expression on him all day. Every time you look at him, it hurts - knowing that it’s because you couldn’t control yourself, you let your emotions take over rational thought - and the pangs of guilt become excruciating by the hour.

By the time Hotch decides to call it a night and have everyone head back to the hotel, your heart physically hurts with all of the guilt that’s pressing on it and the longing tugging at it. All you’ve wanted for the past 3 months is for the flirting between you and Morgan to be real, to have him feel the same way about you as you do him. At some point, the flirting started to weigh you down, leave you with an empty feeling in the deep pits of your stomach, and a yearning so strong that it seemed pathetic.

Realistically, the silly ‘bet’ was only ever going to go one of two ways. The pair of you would have distanced, one of you would’ve pushed the other away so that you didn’t have to experience a taste of what could be before it was ripped away from you. Alternatively, all restraint one of you had would’ve snapped, the fight to not let the other win, the pride you both held so dearly would’ve lost i’s fuel, resulting in a confession from either side. In some weird, twisted way, it’d managed to be both of them on your end.

Without realising, a sigh escapes your lips as you walk in a huddle with the team into the hotel’s lobby, pulling you out of your own thoughts. Head snapping up from the red carpet beneath your feet, your eyes lock with JJ’s, who’s giving you a questioning look. You find yourself responding with a shake of the head to tell her it’s nothing, then averting her gaze before she can tell that something’s up.

The group of weary, exhausted agents make their way to the front desk, all of you moving in a similar fashion to that of a pack of zombies.

The view would be funny if all of you weren’t aching for some much needed rest. Majority of you collapse into some couches while Hotch and Rossi go to get the keys from the front desk.

Both men return to the waiting area in the lobby after about 5 minutes, 4 sets of keys in hand. When you finally look up at them, your face contorts in confusion as to why there’s only 4 sets of keys when there’s 7 of you. As your lips part in anticipation to start asking questions, your brain answers them for you, recalling the information that was relayed to you all on the way to the airstrip, seemingly forgotten in the haze of your guilty, self-deprecating thoughts.

Shit.

Considering the case was so last minute, there were only 4 rooms available at the nearest hotel, so Hotch let everyone know they’d be sharing. To avoid any arguments and prolonged delay to sleep, everyone had agreed to pair with the same person as the last time you’d all had to share rooms. Hotch and Rossi, Emily and JJ, Spencer got his own room because of his aversion to germs, and you and Morgan.

You and Morgan. In a room together.

Clearly, the universe wasn’t done with sending you a chain of awful events today, because this had to take the fucking cake. Being in a room with Morgan has never been a bad thing, but you’ve also never argued with him and basically confessed that you like him. The words never explicitly left your mouth, but surely he’d figured it out a while ago based on your body language, right?

Hotch distributes the keys to someone from every pair, snapping you out of your thoughts once more as he holds a pair out to you. Tiredly, you take it before standing up and grabbing your bag with your other hand. Today has been long, excruciatingly so, you can just go to the room and fall asleep in your own bed. You think, an attempt to ease the unease that’s residing within you.

A gloomy Derek trails behind you, almost reluctantly if your profiling skills were still intact while being this tired, the sight sends another agonising sting of guilt through your heart. As shitty of him as it was to have profiled how you felt and still carry on flirting, he isn’t the only one who has blame in the situation - you agreed to the bet, you could’ve called the whole thing off, confessed your feelings and let him win, but you didn’t - you had your share in the whole thing, too.

The door lock clicks when you turn the key, opening the door to your new home for god knows how long, but you drop said keys on the floor when you get into the room. Similarly, Morgan comes to a stop behind you when he takes in the sight before you both, silence enveloping the room as you both remain still.

In the middle of the room, in between two windows, stood a double bed with an oak headboard. Not two single beds, or two twin beds, hell not even a bunk-bed like the one you’d both had to share in some dingy motel, no, it was a double.

Sharing a room with Morgan was okay before, you’d done it plenty of times in smaller towns or when the coordinator messed up the booking, but the pair of you had never shared a bed. It was even worse now because you weren’t on speaking terms, now that you’d basically confessed your feelings for him, now that you’d figured he profiled it a while ago.

When you realise you’ve been standing eerily still for a while, you can’t move to break it. Fear consumes your limbs, blocking any and all signals from your brain to the central nervous system, keeping you in place. The only thing you can think about is Morgan’s reaction to this; what does he think about it? Is he mad? Is he gonna walk out? How does he feel about what happened on the jet?

Suddenly, you realise you haven’t even thought about his reaction to anything you’d said, only going as far as to read his body language and determine he wasn’t acting like himself. You hadn’t thought about whether it’d be the end of your friendship, that he’d stop talking to you every day, and everything the two of you were would just fade into the background.

Unbeknownst to you, your hands had started shaking, induced by the onslaught of thoughts swirling in your head, trembling by your sides as if in a deadly chill. Morgan, however, notices the tremors of your hands almost immediately and steps in front of you before dropping his bag and taking your hands into his.

“Hey, hey, angel girl, I need you to breathe with me, okay?” His voice is soft and soothing before he mirrors a deep breath, exaggerating the sound and movement of his chest to draw your attention.

In response, you nod your head before taking a shaky breath in unison with Derek’s strong ones. Something wet rolls down your face, a tear escaping your lash line that you hadn’t even felt forming. Your hands stay in Morgan’s as you take deep breaths together, the raggedness of yours drifting away with each new intake of oxygen.

Once Morgan has deemed your breathing to be stable enough, he drops one of your hands before lifting his, now free, hand to your face, thumbs scooping away your tears.

“You’re okay now, sweetheart. You’re okay,” he almost whispers, voice so soft and sweet it might make you start crying all over again as the previous guilt kicks in once more.

A sniffle comes from you while he walks you to the bed, hands still intertwined, which he uses to gently pull you into a sitting position next to him. His thumb caresses your knuckles, running over them in a soothing motion, soft skin on top of yours grounding you.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you now, sweetheart?”

“Are you gonna stop pretending that you don’t already know?” You quip, turning your head to the side to look at him.

“Y/N, I am telling you, I really don’t know. It’s been racking my brain all damn day. If I’ve done something wrong, you can tell me and I’ll fix it.”

Another quip is on the tip of your tongue, but as you look into his brown eyes, really look at them, you realise he’s being genuine. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. Oh god, you owe him the biggest apology.

“You really don’t know?”

“Not a damn clue.”

“God, I feel stupid. This is so dumb.”

“Hey,” he lifts your chin with his fingers, “nothing you say could ever be dumb to me, pretty girl.”

“I’ve had such a shitty day. Like a really, really shitty one where everything goes wrong and I just let it all get to me. And then you profiled me on the jet and I thought you knew, but you don’t know, and I’ve been so, so horri-“

“-Wait, hold on, stop. Know what, angel?”

“..that you won. I lost,” you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting to see the recognition in his face, but it doesn’t come.

“I like you, Derek,” it comes out so quiet and meek, it’d be a miracle if he even heard it, but of course he does.

His reaction isn’t what you were expecting at all, not in the slightest. Instead of some cocky smirk, or an ‘I told you so’, he’s smiling. Genuinely smiling, pearly whites out and all, looking at you like you’re the only thing ever. He laughs and shakes his head before caressing your cheek.

“Both of us won, sweetheart. I like you, too,” he confesses, still gazing into your eyes as if they’re full of everything he’s ever wanted. Morgan tilts his head to the side before asking, “Garcia really didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you shake your head as if to confirm it, and then his words fully register, “Wait, she knew?!”

Before Morgan’s had the chance to say anything back, your hands darted into your pockets, searching for your phone until you’re pulling it out of your pocket. Just as you’re about to call her, Derek’s grabbing at your phone, causing you to wave your arm around to stop him from getting it.

“Hey, no, stop. Don’t you dare. Not yet,” he laughs as he continues his mission to steal your phone from you.

“No, ‘m gonna call her. Would you stop that? Derek!” You manage between giggles.

With both of you moving around so much, he leans too far, body going towards the bed, and wraps an arm around your waist to bring you down with him. Both of you are laughing while fighting over the phone, a fight that you’re still very much winning. That is, until he starts tickling your sides causing your laughter to grow louder and your grip on the phone to grow looser.

The phone falls onto the bed above your head, and he doesn’t even try to grab it, he just resumes his ministrations in your poor sides, tickling away. At some point, he’d end up hovering over you, so when he stops tickling you, you just stare up at him while catching your breath.

Morgan brings one of his hands up to your face, pushing a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear, before caressing your cheek once more. Both of your arms come up, hands locking behind his neck, and the both of you are leaning towards each other. Slowly, he leans down, lips ghosting over yours.

“My pretty girl. It’s about time, huh?”

Without giving you the chance to answer, he captures your lips with his, moving them softly over yours in a sweet, slow kiss. You kiss him back with the same saccharinity, savouring the feeling of his kiss, hands moving from his neck to his cheeks instead.

Due to your previous shortage of breath following his tickling ministrations, the kiss ends sooner than you wanted it to with Morgan pulling away so that he didn’t suffocate you. A petulant pout forms on your lips, to which he just shakes his head.

“Impatient are we, sugar?” He teases, grinning down at you, eyes full of adoration for you.

You hit his chest softly, pathetically really, considering you’re trained in hand to hand combat but the intention was never to hurt him. It serves as a warning, followed by a verbal one, of course.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me, not be mean to me.”

“Oh, I’m not being nice because I want you to breathe? That’s some pretty good logic there, sugar.”

“You know, you haven’t actually asked me to be your girlfriend yet. I could find someone who’s nice to me, instead.”

“Don’t you even think about it, silly girl.”

When he sees the determination on your face he drops his head down a little bit and sighs, shaking his head in disbelief before he lifts it again to look at you.

“Do I really have to ask? That’s so high school.”

A scoff leaves your lips before you deliver another soft hit to his chest, seemingly shocked at his words.

“Yes! If you don’t ask, it’s not real. Did you even watch rom-coms?”

“Alright, alright. Baby girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’ll have to think about that,” Morgan’s hands move to start tickling you again, prompting you to backtrack quickly.

“Morgan, no! Stop! I was kidding! Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend, now stop!”

A shrill shriek can be heard from somewhere in the room and you both jump up, bodies going into fight or flight. Morgan’s just about to reach for his gun in the holster when-

“FINALLY! OH MY GOD!”

Penelope’s voice comes from somewhere on the bed, loud and excited, but not loud enough to say she’s in the room with you both. Evidently, you remember faster than Morgan does because you pick up your phone from the bed to see that you had, in fact, called Penelope and she’d been on the line for 5 minutes. With a resigned sigh despite your smile, you and Derek just share a look that says; ‘Tomorrow’s going to be fun.’

taglist: @i-padfootblack-things (requester, ily), @floraisunwell (proofreader, ily!!), @darkmatilda

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | slight smut chapter

you haven't been able to get off for a while now. every time you try to orgasm, you suddenly get so frustrated and it never happens. even your vibrator was annoying you now. your fingers never reached the right spot anymore. it's like your body just wants something else. something more.

you rise to the notification in your phone.

caleb

you saved my name as just caleb?

thought you liked me more than that, princess

you

i like a lot of things and you're not in that list

jk ill change it

kale 🥬

almost cried but alr

you

get annihilated

kale 🥬

if its by you, gladly

kale??

really???

you

you asked for it

kale 🥬

ouch

you

bye

kale 🥬

bye

"hi," a familiar voice suddenly calls out and you jump from your initial position. "holy fuck, caleb!" you clutch your heart in a dramatic way. "you ended that conversation so quickly, whaddya expect?" he says it in a matter-of-fact tone.

"do you not have mc to bother?" you ask, your brows knit together in faux annoyance. "do you really want me gone?" you notice the sudden shift in his tone, making you feel guilty. you just meant it playfully. "no, no, i was kidding," you try to reason with him.

"that didn't sound like it," he points at you. "you didn't have to be so mean, it hurts my feelings. mind you, you're the only actual human i talk to, you should be a little considerate about that," he explains.

"i'm sorry, i was just a little frustrated today," you explain, making him frown. "what happened?" he asks. "it's nothing, i just need a little time to myself."

caleb raises a brow at this. he notices your cheeks were flushed, your expression looked like you were in a daze and you were looking at his......hands? the entire time you were talking. something was up and he had to know, because it was eating him up inside. could you really blame him?

"fine, i'll talk to you after a few hours. hydrate and sleep until then. keep your phone next to you, i'll wake you up," he instructs. you nod and wave to him with a smile. you take this opportunity to try something new.

you play some music, trying to rile yourself up. caleb could hear everything from his side. you slowly take off your shorts, completely unaware that your phone was still propped up against your bedside lamp, and a certain someone could see everything.

you rest on your back and you lick your fingers, sliding them downwards. you start circling your clit slowly, doing it until wetness builds up near your slit. your fingers move towards your hole that was waiting to feel something. you slowly insert your fingers inside, gasping at the intrusion.

you moan as you thrust them in and out, curling them inside to intensify the pleasure. you grab your vibrator and turn it to the lowest setting. the dim buzz makes your pussy clench in anticipation. you draw it towards your clit, whining when it finally touches it.

the music was blurred into the background, your entire focus was solely on your body, trying to reach the climax you've been chasing for days.

caleb watches you intently, playing with his shaft that was covered in precum. god, you looked so hot right now, he swears he could cum in a minute after seeing you. cold sweat trickling down your temples made everything look even more sensual than it already was.

you increase the vibrator's setting even more, and your moans amplify. you buck your hips at the stimulation, wanting more and more. "oh, fuck!" you cry out loud when your fingers hit that one spot. caleb halts his movements, not wanting to cum before you.

this was what you were so frustrated about. he chuckles internally, thinking how nice it would be if he could take care of you, drinking your sweet moans in while making sure you're too dumb filled with his cock to even think.

your thoughts suddenly shift to caleb, imagining it was his fingers that were inside you and you gasped when you felt your pussy getting even more wet. you increased the pace, feeling a familiar twist in your tummy. you tug at your clothed nipples, drunk on the feeling.

you increase the setting on your vibrator and it becomes overwhelming. "caleb!" you moan out loud. caleb freezes when he hears his name, thinking that you caught him but when he sees that you were still high on pleasure, his eyes never leave you. he smirks to himself. his cock was pulsating in his hand, aching even more after he found out you moaned his name. he wonders if you had done it on other occassions too.

your vibrator and your fingers that you imagined were caleb's were making you come closer and closer to your orgasm. "ah, fuck, caleb," you moan desperately. it finally hits you like a tsunami. waves of pleasure washing all over your body as you twitch at the sensation. your vibrator was now lonely beside you, buzzing as your chest heaves from the intense orgasm.

he lets out soft moans as he fists himself, thinking it was your cunt instead. when you moan his name again, he finally gives in. ropes of cum shot out of his cock, coating his abdomen. sweat coating his soft skin, his ears were red, and he was so down bad.

your entire world was spinning, the pleasure still lingering around. all your senses were overwhelmed, and the music was louder than ever. you flinch as the cold air hit your sensitive pussy.

you freeze when you hear a cough. from your phone. "caleb...?" you call out, praying to yourself that it wasn't him or you were definitely going to jump out. caleb immediately freezes too, realising what he had just done. "d-did you hear anything?" you ask in embarrassment.

"no, i came to check up on you just now, what happened?" he plays it off cool. you sigh loudly. thank fucking lord. "no, i was just wondering," you stray away from the topic. caleb closes his eyes in relief as you bought onto his lie. images of you still playing in his mind. "i'll go back to sleep then," you say softly, earning a hum in response.

fuck, that was close.

[illubean]

Sex Ed !

Characters: Satoru Gojo Type: NoCurse!AU, Oneshot, Gn!Reader? (will explain in warnings), NSFW reader discretion advised

i got the initial concept from this post by @reignpage and added my own twist ^^ also I'm lwky a little embarassed by this so uhh yeah..

Warnings: NSFW, might be considered monster fucking?, reader has alien anatomy and therefore has parts that resemble both female and male reproductive organs because it's my fanfic and I said so, Gojo a bit of a loser perv

Satoru Gojo never expected for a giant space rock to land in a forest trail near his home. He especially didn't expect to come across it on an evening stroll, only to realize that this thing wasn't a rock at all.

Curiously, Gojo climbed down into the crater created by the initial impact of the thing. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be some sort of metal pod, a large tinted window shielding him from seeing what could be inside.

Before he could step closer, the glass window popped open, teal smoke seeping from the inside as a person crawled out of it.

Wait, a person!?

As the smoke cleared and the figure stood to their feet, he noticed the faint glow emitting from your skin as well as the two, long antennas sprouting from your head. You were clad in tight garments that only really covered your private bits.

Your outfit didn't leave much to the imagination.

Gojo was slack jawed at the sight before him. There was a totally gorgeous otherworldly species standing mere feet from him on a random tuesday afternoon. This was a nerd's biggest dream!

Your large eyes blinked open as you took in your surroundings before your gaze landed on the snowy haired man nearby.

You blinked at him a few more times before your clueless gaze morphed into a wide smile.

"EARTH!"

Finally breaking out of his tranze at the sound of your voice, Gojo closed his mouth and straightened his posture.

"Umm yeah, this is Earth.."

Suddenly, you were far to close for comfort, nearly touching noses with the shocked man, studying every detail of his face.

"Human!" you say excitedly, poking a finger into his chest.

Stepping back, you bring your hands up to gesture to yourself.

"Me Y/n. From (insert fake planet name here)!"

It was obvious that your knowledge of human speech was limited. Gojo didn't really know what to do in this situation, thinking of ways to talk to you when his eyes landed back on your space pod ship thing.

"You can call me Toru. Maybe I can help fix your ship?"

Your body stiffened at the word "ship" before you took off to frantically search for a strong, sturdy object. After finding a sizable rock, you ran back towards the previously mention vehicle and raised your weapon of choice above your head, bringing it down to repeatedly smash the control panel.

Gojo watched in shock, confusion evident on his face while you dusted off your hands and turned back to face him.

"They track me and take me back," you explained, expression souring at the thought. "Me stay with Toru?"

Gojo didn't really know what he was getting himself into, but what he did know was that he couldn't deny you when you had such a sweet look on your face.

"Sure, I guess you could stay with me."

It's been months since Gojo met you. In that time, he attempted to teach you grammar and about different things that you had questions about. You were learning fairly quickly, but there were still times where you would slip up and use certain words incorrectly.

That's alright though, it makes you, you.

You spent most of your days lazing around Gojo's home, reading different food labels or the back of his video game cases while you awaited his return from work. Soon you began to grow bored, running out of things that piqued your curiosity in the finite space. Noticing this, Gojo decided to introduce you to something he might grow to regret later.

The internet.

Your white haired companion was oh so nice enough to write down the pin to his pc down for you, allowing you to use it however you wished while he was away.

Typically you played simple games like snake or scrolled through coolmath, occasionally searching for and downloading random images like "8 leg water creature" or "cool galaxy wallpaper".

But today, it seems Gojo forgot to close one of his tabs before leaving.

Twitter

With a curious gaze, you mindlessly clicked away, scrolling through random threads and looking through different tags. One thing led to another and you ended up under a specific tag which you had no clue what it meant.

NSFW.

While scrolling through, you were met with various different displays of the naked human body, some even of multiple humans interacting with each other in ways that were vaguely familiar, but still enough to fill your mind with questions.

At the familiar sound of Gojo's keys jiggling in the door knob, you bolted down the stairs and began dragging him up towards his room before he could even get a word in. Ignoring his questions and protests momentarily, you stop in front of his computer and point to the screen.

"What that?"

The man's eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he looked to the screen to see that you've managed to discover Twitter porn.

Quickly he shut off the monitor as you stared up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Uhhh, that's nothing!"

"Tell meee," you whined, yanking on the sleeves of his hoodie and shaking him lightly, urging him to explain what you just saw.

"Well, when two people love each other very much-"

Never did Gojo ever think he would be giving someone the sex talk, let alone an alien that quite literally fell from the sky not too long ago. A very attractive alien, at that.

"And that's how babies are made. Some people just do it for fun though..."

Your face lights up at the word 'fun', immediately alerting Gojo.

Damn it, he shouldn't have mentioned that part.

"Let's do, Toru! Let's have sex!"

Satoru has never felt this embarassed before. He was sitting against the headboard of his bed, cheeks were dusted a shade of pink as he avoided looking at you, settled between his legs and staring at his crotch so intensely. And the worst part was, he was the only one naked.

What kind of ecchi shit is this!?

You watched in awe as his shaft began to stiffen under your gaze, looking at it from all different angles, fascinated by the human body. Grabbing his length, you moved it up and peeked under his balls as if looking for something.

"Only one hole?" you asked, taking your finger and tracing a line down from his balls to his asshole, gently prodding at the entrance.

He yelped at the sensation before swatting your hand away, finally looking down to meet your wide eyed, inquisitive gaze.

He huffed in embarrassment before muttering a response.

"What does that even mean? But yes, human men only have one hole.."

You got up from your position between Satoru's legs, shimmying off your shorts and shamelessly presenting your, now naked, lower half to him.

You sat back with your legs propped up and spread open, revealing something resemblant of a human vagina and a large, blue, tentacle like apendage mounted where the clit should be.

Satoru couldn't believe his eyes. You looked like a scene straight out of some pervy manga that he read on occasion; never did he think that it could be real.

"All my people have same parts. Male and female."

Satoru's boner quickly became painful, the lewd image of you sprawled out in front of him causing all his resolve to snap. Without a second thought, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you on to your back, pushing your thighs to your chest and positioning himself at your entrance.

"You said you wanted to have sex, right? Then let's stop wasting time."

You yelped as he slammed balls deep into you, the slick sound of plap! plap! plap! punctuating every trust. Your juices coated his cock making it impossibly easy for him to reach all the way inside of you.

Letting out a string of whines, your large pupils were practically heart shaped while your skin began to glow a faint shade of blue.

You've never felt sensations like this before.

Satoru wasn't faring much better. A buzzing heat settled across every inch of his skin, balls growing impossibly tight upon feeling you. Not only your sloppy hole drooling around his cock, but your length wiggling between your bodies.

The appendage secreted a syrupy substance, the color matching that of your luminescent skin, which clung to the both of your tummies which created sticky strings that kept the two of you together. Satoru adjusts his position, letting your legs fall to his sides and wrapping his arms around your waist in order to pull your front flush to his. Without warning he kisses you, swallowing your mewls and relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours.

Despite not completely understanding what was going on, you accepted it, back arching up into him while your hands go to tangle themselves in his ivory locks.

"Fuucckk baby, feel good? 's your Toru making you feel good?" he asked, one hand coming up to grab your face as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"Mmfh, Toru! I...I feel...hot!"

The glow of your skin began to intensify and your whole being felt as if it were set ablaze. Satoru's cock caressed and kissed places you hadn't even known existed before, causing the coil inside of your core to tighten.

"Yeah? You feel hot right here?"

The large hand that was once gripping your cheeks was now resting beneath your belly button, applying minimal pressure that was still enough to evoke a loud moan from you. You nodded profusely in response to the man's question while his pace intensified.

Your senses were overwhelmed with pleasure, and not knowing what to do you wrapped your legs around Satoru and tightened your grip on his hair in response. A shiver runs down his spine and his hips stutter at the sensation. His bodyweight slumps into you, face burring itself into the crook of your neck. Your touch had him feeling weak.

With you tugging on his hair and the insane grip your other worldly pussy had on him, Satoru wouldn't be able to last much longer.

"Feel funny," you said, meekly. He felt your body stiffen underneath him, instinctually trying to clamp your legs shut around his hips.

"Relax for me," he cooed, planting soothing kisses up the side of your neck and underneath your jaw. "'ll take care of you, okay? Promise."

Trusting his word, you try relaxing back into the mattress while he continues to plow into you. Your mewls and moans began to increase in volume until your body reached its peek, juices gushing around Satoru's length while more spurted against both of your tummies.

Feeling your cunt practically weeping around him set Satoru over the edge, his own release mixing with yours and dripping to pool in the bedsheets underneath you when he pulled out.

Both of your spent bodies lied still, your blue glow settling into something more faint while the both of you panted.

"How was it?" Satoru asks you, suddenly feeling shy. You stayed silent, which alerted him. "...Y/n?"

Before he could sit up to check on you, with tremendous speed you picked up his lean body and slammed him onto the mattress underneath you. A wide smile was spread across your face while your energy buzzed with excitement. The poor guy was barely able to comprehend what happened before you spread his legs and positioned yourself in front of his puckered hole.

"Me turn!"

I am not confident in my smut skills at all bear w me...

[broidobe]

𝔦𝔷𝔷𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔡𝔩𝔦𝔫 𝔫𝔰𝔣𝔴 𝔞𝔩𝔭𝔥𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔱

requested!

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

just so loving honestly

he likes you put an arm around you and light a cigarette for you to share

there’s not a lot of talking but the silence is very comfortable

he’ll often put on a soft rock record for you two

to calm you down

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he’s a sucker for your hips and your sides

during literally any position he’s caressing them

when your on top, he guides them in the most loving way possible

he’s just so smooth with them

he treats them like they are human

he doesn’t really have a favourite body part on himself

it would probably be his dick

because it makes you feel good

and that’s like his purpose of being on earth in his mind

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he likes cumming in you

he doesn’t like to make much of a mess

but if you ask him to cum anywhere?

he totally will

he doesn’t mind facials but it’s something that happens more in quickies

but we’ll get into that later

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

izzy secretly loves the way your clothes smell after you’ve worn them—especially your lingerie. 

sometimes, when you're not around, he’ll take a moment to hold onto them just to feel closer to you.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s actually a natural

he had barely ANY experience before you

just the odd groupie and still, that was like NEVER

he just kind of learned from all those stupid ass pornos

y’know…

he totally went to those theatres

and he would totally fuck you at one

once again, we’ll get into that ;)

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

i really went into detail on this in his nsfw headcannons so go there more more detail (linked on the gnr masterlist)

but it depends on mood honestly

when he’s feeling really affectionate:

missionary

lazy?

spooning

submissive? (ooohhhh boy he’s totally a switch guys)

cowgirl. this is his favorite position. 1000%. but once again, READ THE HEADCANNONS FOR MORE DETAIL

when he feels freaky somewhere totally unconventional?

anything sitting or standing works for him

normally sitting with you on his lap

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s really serious

like he might do a quiet hah if you accidentally knock something over

but he takes sex pretty serious

nice and laid back

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i feel like he’s borderline bald down there

he shaves it

and there are like short prickles down there

he’s very neat down there

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s just so passionate

he pays attention to everything you do

he praises the shit out of your body in bed

not very vocal or loud but when he is he does NOT degrade you in any way

he just tells you how beautiful you look and such

god, you look so perfect right now

that’s my girl

you’re so good for me. So damn good

i love hearing you like that

you take me so well, baby

j = jack off (masturbation headcannon)

never really did it

he kinda saved it for “special occasions”

or at least what he thought as special

aka watching a porno at the theatre

but with you he doesn’t do any of that

he just doesn’t ever masturbate

he feels empty doing it without you

he’d definitely call you when on tour and jack off to your voice

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

praise and possession

he thrives on the idea of you being his

izzy lives for building you up with dirty praise.

telling you how good you feel, how perfect you look, and how no one else could ever compare.

he’s got a thing for making you feel claimed—whether it’s biting, marking your neck, or leaving faint scratches down your skin as a reminder.

he is lingerie OBSESSED

especially delicate, sheer pieces that leave just enough to the imagination.

if you surprise him in something lacy? he’ll absolutely lose it.

he’d keep the pieces he loves most and ask you to wear them just for him on special nights.

voyeurism but not really??

it’s something he hasn’t really told you

he’s into the idea of watching you at your most vulnerable state

he’d only let someone he REALLY trusts have you though

axl, being someone he’s close to, is probably his pick

he doesn’t know why, i mean axl would probably try to steal you, at least that’s what he thinks. the truth is, axl wouldn’t do that to izzy, especially cause he is literally OBSESSED with you.

izzy is absolutely obsessed with what you look like when you are cumming

so that’s another contributor to voyeurism

he’s not big on exhibitionism

but oh my god he knows how to build tension in public

running his hand up your thigh under the table, whispering something dirty at a party, or pulling you aside for a quick kiss that’s way too heated

very gentle hair-pulling

he doesn’t want to hurt you

but he loves having a fist of your hair in his hand

has a book of freaky ass polaroids of you

he keeps them hidden away like a personal treasure trove.

he loves flipping through them when you’re not around

mutual masturbation is something he can’t get enough of

remember how he said in the nsfw headcannons 

you know how to make yourself feel the best, not me

yeah

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

your room

it’s comfortable, it’s spacious, it’s perfect

he can act however he wants without embarrassment

but don’t think i forgot the movie theatres

he loves taking you to them

not in a travis bickle way though (someone will get this reference, i swear)

because you wanna go too you horny bitch

but it’s just the thrill of not only being in public but also watching porn at the same time??

holy god

and if the theatre is empty??

he’s gonna make you guys try every position they do in the film

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he’s not the horniest guy ever

but if you sway your hips in a certain way

it gets him going

and really anything about you

if you are wearing anything revealing??

expect to be late to wherever you’re going

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

any sort of painful actions

he doesn’t want to hurt you at all

and degrading

he doesn’t want to make you feel small or insecure

because he thinks you are the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he lovesss giving

and he’s damn good at it

he’s like the tongue wizard

but he also loves getting head

the first time you guys ever had “sex”, you just gave him a blow job

and he swears that he saw god that day

he literally got so overstimulated you guys COULDN’T go on or he would’ve died

so he definitely prefers receiving but he loves giving just as much!

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

usually, he’s really slow and lovely, making sure to hit every spot

but sometimes a spark will come

and he will get so rough and hard

this is normally right after shows when he ego has been boosted to the extreme

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn’t love them

but he doesn’t hate them either

quickes only happen before shows

and they normally are you sucking him off and him giving you a facial

but if he has more time, he’ll bend you right over the vanity and take you right there

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

mehhhhhh he doesn’t really take risks

he more for building up tension in public then actually going at it

he’s up to try anything in bed as long as you are

you pretty much always are the one to step and an say you wanna try something

because he gets worried you won’t wanna

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

i’d say three rounds, twenty minutes each

he knows how to preserve his energy so he could probably go for more

but then he’d just get tired

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he’s not the biggest fan of them

he’s okay with you having them but he kinda gets jealous if you use it without him

it’s like “jeez you like it more than me”

but he adores using it on you

he doesn’t like the really techy ones though

just a simple bullet or something because he wants to be the one to drive you over the edge 

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

he really doesn't tease

maybe he’d tease your entrance before thrusting into you but that’s basically it

he doesn’t like upsetting you lol

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

as discussed in his headcannons, he’s pretty quiet

but when he says something, it’s unforgettable

he does slightly moan when he cums or thrusts into you

but it’s not a grunt

it’s very light and it’s honestly adorable

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

has a thing for your collarbones

he’s always kissing, nipping, or running his fingers along them.

it’s his favorite place to linger

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7 inches take it or leave it

he doesn’t have a lot of girth to it

but damn he knows how to use it

he knows he’s above average

and he is totally cocky about it

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

i would say average

he’s not constantly horny like most people around him

he’s just very chill

it also depends on how you act around him

he mirrors your sex drive

if you are desperate, so is he

if your not really into having sex that day, he’s fine with it

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

10 minutes

he eventually just passes out

and a lot of times he does it with a lit cigarette in hand

so thank god you stay awake longer lol

[answer2jeff]

beneath the ashes //

a carmen berzatto x reader series.

chapter 0, prologue.

warnings : 18+!!!! drug abuse, suicide, smoking, uncomfortable and gut-wrenching situations, familial trauma, mentions of domestic violence, angst, carmen is cold and judgmental, Richie serves as a father figure and Claire is not a romantic interest.

word count: 1.6k

⁠disclaimer : if you can't understand the complexity and true excruciating nature of these topics outside of internet fiction, that's YOUR problem. writing about these things IS romanticizing them and i do understand that. i don't advise reading this fic if you're a recovering addict or are triggered by drug abuse, or literally anything else mentioned. reader in this fic is a complicated, messy, but deeply kind human being. reader is not in active addiction!!!!

addicts are not monsters. this is FICTION.

also, this series js going to take a LONG time to finish. real ones will stick around 💔💯

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Street lights, rain, more rain, ashes.

Ashes, ashes, ashes. The ones on the street wet with precipitation that slowly dissolve. The ones scattered on the tongue of your shoes, and the ones accumulating underneath your fingernails and coating your breath in a thick, sickly film of burnt tobacco. Your jaw is shaking. You're absolutely sick with shame. If you could bottle up this feeling and sell it for just a measly 25 cents a pop, you'd be in the islands right now. A margarita in hand, your skin supple and tanned. But no, you're back here at Mikey's place. Actually, you're not even in his place. You're out in the moist cold, sitting here on the porch, your ass numbing from the hard wood and your jeans soaking up the mucky rainwater. This time, you've been thrown out. Mikey can't keep you here forever. He has to get better, even if that means doing it without you. It didn't matter he'd taken you in last year. You're no longer a "kid." You're "a fucking mess." The sun is gone, and a part of you has left with it. Crumbs of powdery Xanax hide in the ridges of your teeth. Your 3rd cigarette trembles in your boney fingers. His final straw was when you told him his dope was better for him than you ever will be. The way you talked about yourself angered him to no end, and it wasn't because he cared. A victim, he saw you as. A coward, he took you for. Mikey has a family to impress. You know he'll go back to hiding the drain of heroin all of his money flows down to in just a few days. He can't accept it. He has to get better, right? Mikey wants out, and you can't wait to get in even deeper.

It's been 16 days since then. Faces of grieving siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins cloud your mind...but one of them is missing. That one particular makes you feel an unfamiliar sensation of guilt. Carmen. Mikey is dead and Carmen isn't here. Denial clouds your judgment. There was no possible way Mikey could really be dead and Carmen isn't here, right? He's the only one who knows that you were the last person Mikey called before his body was found with his gun in hand on February 22nd, 2022. His phone and wallet were left untouched on the bridge. It's February 24th now. How quickly funerals occur has always bothered you. The tension headache that wraps around your forehead and trails to the back of your skull has put unbearable weight on your sinuses. Your nose is bleeding, and your once soft hands are growing calluses from your nails digging into the flesh of your palms every time you wish you could drag Micheal Berzatto out of the goddamn ground yourself. The abyss of silence as you sit alone in a continuous row of the pew is broken by the scratch of Sugar clearing her throat, that will soon close with disbelief that her older brother is lifeless beside her. Her hands shake as she grounds herself on the podium. There's a small piece of white copy paper in her hand. She glances from the hidden words to the microphone. Seconds pass and she says nothing. Instead, she gags from feeling so utterly abandoned she could projectile vomit all over the podium. You can't bare to watch. With closed eyes, you let the world unravel before you.

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Richie wipes the dried drool of sleep from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb, his facial hair absorbing most of the crusted saliva. His lanky arm supports his body weight against the door frame. Of course, instead of inviting you in, he keeps you in the cold morning dew. You've been standing here, your shoes scuffing over the doormat and your hair slowly getting frizzier from the humidity since 7:15. It's now 7:45, and all you've talked about is Richie's new life plan. He's really turning around. Y'know—he doesn't smell like a thrift store anymore. His breath is minty, but still has that twinge of tobacco. He finally says something so far underneath his raspy voice that you nearly missed it as you yawned with a hand over your mouth.

"I think you should come to friends and family night."

The invitation makes you nervous. You wonder if Carmen has changed at all, because you sure have. After all, you're sober now. Your eyes are no longer sunken in with grief and longing for acceptance outside of what substances gave you. You can actually fucking think now. The brain fog has cleared.

"Yeah?" you tilt your head, Richie nodding in response. He reaches for a pack of camels from his back pocket. He shuffles a cigarette from the pack, holding it between two dry fingers, giving you the 'you want?' look. Richie hasn't offered you a smoke since the day he found out you were using. It was, coincidentally, the day you decided to get sober. Which just so happened to be hours before Mikey's death. Nonetheless, you nodded. It feels nice to not be treated like a little girl in a candy store who can't be reasoned with, let alone control herself. While nicotine wasn't the drug that controlled every aspect of your life for nearly 3 years—it still felt wrong to Richie.

Lovingly, he attempts to light it for you, fumbling with the guard of the lighter. The constant clicking sound. Fuck, it fills you with dread. Finally the cigarette is set aflame.

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"You're gonna love it, kid."

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While you're sitting at the glossy marble table watching bubbles of carbonated alcohol rise to the mid section of the glass, Carmen is pacing. He pretends he can sees the faces of the dozens of people waiting on their meal. They're angry. They're dissatisfied. It's no surprise to him that he is in fact projecting, and no one is angrier than Carmen Berzatto in this very moment. Sydney is a close second. She's no longer willing to babysit him, she says. Richie is a fool. Fak is a klutz. None of this is new. Oh, how receptive this has all become. You're with friends who don't know a thing about you, your appetite has disappeared, and you picture Richie keeping roll as you hear his voice through the frosted glass. Carmen shouts as he walks through the doors into the kitchen, the air so thick with flavor and heat he could choke. It's almost unintelligible. No one else seems to notice but you.

"Fuck!" He roars, but he's drowned in the sound of kitchen clogs squeaking and fires caramelizing food. For a minute, he's thankful no one can hear him. That is until he arrives with a bottle of Rosé your table ordered from Richie moments before. Carmen knows he's being watched, sure. This is his restaurant. Claire-Bear, the girl who's been like his little sister since middle school, is staring with worried eyes as her boyfriend talks her ear off about his software job. She'd rather be cooked alive than listen to another wave of his voice. Needless to say, he moves past her swiftly. The closer he gets to your table the faster your heart beats against your tight chest. Finally, he sees you. His mouth gapes open just a few centimeters, his grip on the bottle barely loosening. Eyebrows all around the table are raising with excitement, and yours are still drawn together in worry.

"Good evening guys, uh—here is the bottle of La Belle—best of 2022, actually. Who's up for a first taste?" Carmen asks the table, secretly hoping you'll volunteer.

As if your friends can read his mind, Diane tilts your head your direction.

"Sure," you croak. "Hit me."

Carmen's tattooed hand unscrews the cap. The peachy pink wine slugs out like a waterfall from the lid, stopping just so you get a few drops of the liquid gold. His eyes are glued to the glass, but you watch him intently through the whole affair. He's oddly beautiful. With curls that have grown too long and his blue eyes have only filled with more determination, it hurts to look away. And yet, he is worried that if his eyes meet yours, you could somehow disappear.

But again, you just can't look away.

By the time his head rises again to hand you the glass, your eyes are already gleaming with wonder and questions. His heart fucking aches with not a clue in the world as to why. You haven't spoken in months. Maybe this is an apology. Not that he felt that you deserved one, no. It would just lift it from his thoughts. But he's lying. Of course you deserved to hear the words "I'm sorry." His own mind races with ideas of you, hating you. Hating what you dragged Mikey into, hating how easily you hid it, hating how much he wished he could reverse time and just fucking be there for him. For you. You always felt so close and yet so, so far away from Carmen. So detached, just like him.

You're aware that he's watching you now. You look tired. Carefully, you swish the wine around, soaking in the aromatic scent before you give it a taste. Of course, the Rosé is delicious. You blink slowly, nodding in approval.

"It's perfect."

"I'm glad," Carmen smiles.

The tension grows stronger. Finally, he looks away to Diane, Kyler, and Sophie. Not because he wants to be of hospitality, but because he just can't bare to feel this way any longer.

You place your orders with a heavy heart. Carmen walks away for the last time that night, and you're once again worried you may never see him again, the way you worried all those years ago.

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[cum-a-calla]

as someone who’s written amazing sub!roman, any thoughts on tipping him so far over the edge that he comes without permission and gets all panicky ??

He’s leaking.

His cheeks are so red, the apples of them nearly glowing hot - it feels good to press your lips down against them in small, peppered kisses, soft and sweet. He’s absolutely miserable. Eyes cloudy, words melting off into meaningless, whining moans… god, he’s so pretty. So lost. You wonder idly in the back of your mind how many times he can really bite his bottom lip between his teeth before he makes himself bleed, before it’s so chapped he has to start subtly moisturizing at work. And isn’t that a cute thought? Every time he pulls a goddamn chapstick out of his suit pocket, covertly rubbing it on his lips. Embarrassed. His stupid little smirk being just a little bit shinier, a little extra soft. Fuck.

“You really want it, huh?” Soft voice, soft hands - gliding up and down his shaft, and fuck… he’s so thick, so fucking hard. Precum drips over the knuckle of your thumb on the upstroke and you gather it, gliding it back over the fat, engorged head, soft as velvet. There’s a fleeting consideration about leaning down to lick him, or even kiss it… but you don’t. Roman whines and tenses up, hips bucking so softly into your hand.

“Yeah… yeah, yes, fuck…”

His voice. So delicate. Quiet and loud all at once, somehow, drawn so painfully high - he’s gotta be so embarrassed, begging for your touch like this. It makes it so much better.

You’re only human. Throbbing, careful in revealing your desperation, you sigh, you stroke his hot cheek and reach up to thread your fingers into his mussed hair, pulling it into your fist. He gasps and his eyes fly open, looking obediently up at you. For once, Roman Roy has nothing to say. He’s just an object. A thing, a vessel. You smile kindly down at him, fixing your expression into a soothing one despite squeezing his cock at the base before stroking him again, slowly, diabolically. When he arches his hips again you pull away from his dick to slap him on the thigh and he stops.

“Good boy,” you whisper. “I’m going to use you now. No - no…. shh. Don’t say a fucking thing. It’s not up to you, is it, baby?”

He squeezes his eyes shut and there’s the initial tensing of his muscles, the barest hint of a thrust - and, like the good boy he desperately wants to be, he stills it down, takes a breath, whining through his gorgeous nose like a fucking puppy. There’s a beat where you wait, trusting that he can be obedient. It’s important to train a dog. You slide a thumb against his bottom lip and he accepts it without thought - and does he have any thoughts left? Does he need any? No. No, he doesn’t.

The slow, delicious slide down his cock is everything. Working yourself down over the throbbing length, making it torturously slow for the both of you - not that his feelings matter… not really. It’s yours, after all. Roman, that is - his entire life and professional position doesn’t stop him from being an object to be used right now, in this moment, moaning and begging in half-words as you take your time to work his cock inside of the warm, tight place in along body. Your time, your rules.

It’s only a few rolls of your hips in that you realize there may be a problem - he twitches, hips bucking so very slightly - and then his voice draws up so loud, so painfully, embarrassingly high-strung. His cock throbs, and you grab him by the jaw, shaking him til he looks at you, barely, eyes glazed.

"Oh, I'm - mmm'sorry, sorry, I'm... I -"

Roman gasps his breaths, whining like a soft little thing. Eyes squeezed shut, nails digging desperately into your thighs as his hips grind up, up, bucking the both of you off the bed with the force of his wet cock between the slippery lips of your cunt. Under your gaze, he gives in to his own end. Cum shoots from his pretty, flushed slit in ropes, over his own belly.

You're not mean... no. Accidents happen.

Roman moans and whines as he comes back down, and the reality of his situation comes to the forefont of his brain as the haze clears up. His breath visibly, audibly hitches in his chest and he makes another whining sound, but it's different - this one borne of humiliation, disappointment. No pleasure at all. His big, beautiful eyes, pupils dilated in the melting of pleasure into fear. And that's exactly what it is. You watch as he processes and the panic rises up his belly, his chest, til there's a film of tears over his eyes, the faintest wobble in his chin, his bottom lip.

"Fuck," he whispers. "I fucked it. I... I fucking -" He covers his eyes with his forearm, pressing into it. There's a twitch in his chest as he bites back the threat of sobs, his trembling body underneath you.

"Rome. Baby - hey. Stop. Look at me. Look," you urge, pulling his arm away. Red spiderwebs of veins cross into the whites of his eyes, his lashes wet. He still looks so beautiful. So absolutely wrecked. "You know I'm still going to use you, right?"

It's not a question. Not really. It's a fact. He takes a moment, sniffling, nodding obediently.

"You gunna be good for me, now?" You ask firmly. "Gunna make it up to me?"

"Good."

His whining - his pathetic, wavering voice, his gasps, his weak little uh-huh, I will, please, I'm sorry. It's enough to make your cunt clench down on nothing, still lazily gliding your hips over his spent cock.

The slow ascent up his body, crawling. His eyes on your face, your tits, reverent, watching until you're poised over his mouth. "Ready, baby?" you ask. It's only a courtesy - it doesn't matter, not really. He's going to do it anyway.

Once you've lowered your hips, his perfect, gorgeous nose is buried at the apex of your slit, his red eyes fluttering shut as he gets to work licking, sucking, lapping like the dog he is. An obedient little mutt, lips working overtime to show you he can learn. His tongue is so soft and warm on your clit. It's like he's spelling a prayer, there, begging forgiveness with his little whines and moans. A glance behind shows you his cock twitching just a little, barely half-hard but on its way. It's too bad, really, because he's not going to be allowed to use it for a while. But you save this tidbit for later - no need to distract him.

Roman eats your cunt like it's his last meal. The thought of it has molten heat surge down between your thighs, where he looks up at you in little bursts of bravery. God, he belongs here. Belongs underneath, being used, and your hips are rolling as that pressure builds and builds, dripping over his face, his chin.

You thread your hands into his hair as it washes over you - Roman picks up the pace as you start moaning and riding against his mouth, trying to take in all your pleasure, to be useful, to worship your pussy for the heaven it is, all tight and pink and pulsing on his face. The vibrations of his moaning only serve to heighten how hard you cum on his tongue.

"Nose - now. Nose," you demand, and he obeys, shifting lower to rub the tip of his nose over your sensitive, pulsing clit, his tongue diving as far as he can into your wet, tight, twitching hole. You trail your thumb over the visible bridge of his nose, over and over and over, tattooing its skight curve into your brain like braille as your eyes clench shut and you ride the last of it out. "Good boy. Fuck - you're so fucking good, you belong here."

In the aftermath, pulling off of his face and flopping bonelessly beside him, he eyes you with a certain level of shame. His red-rimmed eyes, feverish cheeks. His cock almost fully hard now, pointedly ignored.

"Good job, Rome," you coo softly, kissing the red blade of his cheekbone. He shudders and leans into it, the softest hum vibrating through his chest as he surrenders, snaking a tentative arm around the dip of your waist. Wanting to pull you closer, careful to be slow in case you don't want it. "You need me? That's okay, baby."

You sink into him, kissing his forehead, his eyebrows, the tense lines between them. You trace your lips down the devastating slope of his strong nose, licking the tip before you treat him to a kiss. Not because he's earned it - just because you want it. He responds hungrily, reaching up to frame your face with his fingers.

Worship.

Face pressed against his chest, both of you cooling down, there's a wonderful silence. An acceptance. News of his impending punishment can wait for now - you're not cruel. Roman nuzzles closer, arm around you, seeking your heat, and for now... he can have it.

[celestial-encounters]

The first thing Harmonia hears is the sound of waves. In front of him is a massive ocean, surface shimmering with what look like stars. Over the seemingly endless ocean is a sky of actual stars, which shines with vibrant colors he's only seen in books. The sight is so beautiful, she almost misses the figure standing on the shore.

How she did that is a mystery, considering they stand far taller than any human could. It turns to face Harmonia, and its face is nearly as breathtaking as the sky above.

Half of their face was covered by a porcelain mask, and the other half... Moth wings line an eye filled with sorrow, freckles twinkle on their cheeks like starlight, and their lips purse with worry. As it approaches Harmonia, dark cloak shining in the ocean's glow, he becomes increasingly—and somewhat alarmingly—aware of just how tall they are.

They reach down to her with an arm that probably dwarfs her entire body.

"Oh, Harmonia..." It frowns. "Are you afraid of me?"

Rationally, he absolutely should be—they're a literal god, one of the most powerful gods out there, and very big—but their face holds no malice. In fact, it seems almost... guilty.

Harmonia bites her lip and looks away. "I... don't know. I don't want to be."

There's a sigh.

"I'm terribly sorry for scaring you..."

...Huh? She's apologizing? He looks back up, unable to keep the incredulous look off his face. The god's eye twinkles with... what looks like fondness?

"Really, I am. I haven't talked to a living mortal in... a very long time." With said mortal too shocked to respond, it continues. "Ah—I haven't even introduced myself, and after you were so kind too... My name is Psyche."

Psyche extends its hand to shake, looks down at Harmonia's much smaller hand, and winces apologetically at how awkward the difference must be. It is certainly awkward to shake hands with a god, but with nothing else to do in this absurd situation, he does it.

"I, uh, know that." He cringes. "Fuck, that must sound so disrespectful—Shit, is swearing disrespectful. Agh, I just did it again, I'm so sorry, I promise I'm not trying to fuck this up—ah, god damn it. Wait, you're god. Ughhh..."

Harmonia hides her face in her hands, red with embarrassment. He already embarassed himself in front of a god once, but at least that was accidental. Now, the literal god goes out of its way to apologize to her, and she—

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of laughter.

The noise is soft, delicate yet beautiful, like the wings that adorn their face. Harmonia looks up to see Psyche with its hand to its mouth—covering a smile that he hadn't realized just how much he wants to see.

"Ah, I apologize, I don't mean to laugh at you." Her eye crinkles from the smile. "You're just... very cute."

Harmonia blinks. Did... did he hear that right? Did the god of the underworld just call her cute?

"Um... Thanks?"

Psyche looks on fondly for a couple seconds before the look turns to regret again.

"Oh... I'd really love to chat more, but I'm sure you have very important things to get back to."

Shit. Right, he's technically still at his job right now. This is going to be an ordeal to try and explain to Laika.

"Yeah, uh—I don't think I'm supposed to be having divine visions on the clock?" Harmonia lets out a nervous laugh. "But, you know... When I'm done with work, if you want..."

A faint smile returns to Psyche's lips.

"I'd like that very much."

And with that, the scene dissolves.

[hey-im-always-sleeping]

Short poolverine fic

(idk how to format on here but it’s too short for me to bother putting it on ao3 so uhh

Itch

Tw// self harm

The one thing nobody ever expected from Logan’s healing factor was how much it fucking itched.

He’d gotten plenty of questions about whether the claws hurt, whether he could feel pain, etc. But nobody ever thought to ask about the healing. He knew he should just be grateful for the near-invincibility. But some days, when he was really giving his healing factor a workout, and it felt like ever inch of skin was crawling as it knit back together, he wished not for the first or last time he’d just been born a human.

When he was younger, sometimes he’d stab himself with one claw while the rest of his body was healing from a fight just to have something to distract him from the sensation. Once or twice he’d given into the animalistic urge to scratch like crazy and ended up just prolonging the healing process, digging into his own skin only to have the itching resume instants after it had turned to pain. Eventually he’d learned to control himself and let his healing factor run its course no matter how agonizing. He’d grit his teeth and get through it. Helped if he was on the run after a fight. Helped to have any sort of distraction.

He didn’t realize the distractions could be pleasant till he met Wade. The process of falling into each other’s arms post-saving-the-world was messy, like everything either man ever did. Somewhere in the middle of that process they had a quiet moment after a shared mission, getting picked up by the Blackbird shortly after an intense brawl.

Storm and Cyclops knew better than to pester the Wolverine while his healing factor did its work. Deadpool did not.

“That was a rough one, huh? Thought they were about to turn me into ground-Deadpool for a sec there!”

Wolverine grunted, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Does it itch?”

Logan did a double take. The movement jostled another bullet free from his skin that his healing factor had been slowly pushing out. He nodded.

“Mine does too.” Wade made a show of scratching at the skin on his thigh where an enemy swordsman had slashed deep cuts into his costume, skin, and muscles. “ doesn’t really help in the long run. “

Logan grunted in agreement, shoulders slouching. Wade scooted closer. Ran a tentative arm up Logan’s back until the shorter man marginally relaxed. Started running a hand through Logan’s hair, like petting a cat.

Maybe he was too tired from the mission and his healing factor working overtime to muster the energy to care. Maybe he’d just worked so long to keep up the tough guy persona that he couldn’t be bothered to give a shit anymore. Logan let his eyes flutter shut and leaned into the touch, letting the sensation light his nerves on fire in an entirely more pleasant way.

[raqi-marr]

HDG How-To: Class-E xenodrugs in real life

A while ago, I wrote one of my first posts on this blog about the experience of trying to recreate class-H's in real life by doing LSD. This was generally very successful, and having done it several more times since then, I can confidently say that if you want to feel like you are getting the floret brainwashing experience, LSD is a very good drug to do it with.

However, I recently had an unexpected and unplanned-for experience which has given me quite a lot of insight into what being on class-E's would probably be like in real life. My first exposure to anything that could be described as similar was when I started duloxetine (an anti-anxiety SNRI medication) last year. I can't actually remember super well what life was like before that any more, but my recollection is that after going on it, I noticed myself having substantially less intrusive thoughts/being less inclined to doom spiral about stuff any time I was unoccupied for more than 10 seconds. The entire experience was more complicated than that and deserves its own post some time, but it is also kind of boring and not all that class-E pilled so let me get to the good shit now

Yesterday, I was privileged enough to get to actually try cuddling another human being for the first time in my life (I say privileged because lord knows how many of us long distance relationship mfs go years without physical touch.) As it turns out, this shit makes SNRIs look like fucking sugar pills in comparison, because by the everbloom I have never been so fucking chilled out in my life as after an hour of getting held and squeezed by my partner

I have a bunch of anxiety conditions and am generally known by all my friends as That One Bitch With No Chill, so you can imagine my shock when, in the aftermath of this, I sat down at my chair and prepared to start worrying about how many jobs I have that I need to go and finish and how I probably did a shit job cuddling with my partner, and found that my brain just didn't feel inclined to do any of that stuff at all. Not just 'uninclined', but straight up refused to do it after repeated prompting from a very confused me

The best way I could sum up the experience was like someone had reached into Raqi_Settings.txt and set "anxiety_enabled = true" to "= false". It just did not work any more. This immediately reminded me of a couple scenes I'd read in HDG where pov chars get put on class-E's and just can't do that any more, and I started wondering "okay so wtf is happening to me, why did an hour of physical contact put me on fucking plommy-tier drugs"

The answer, which I figured I would share with everyone else who might be similarly inexperienced with the Terran capacity to self-synthesize xenodrugs, is oxytocin! If you're anything like me, you probably read 'oxytocin' and go "oh yeah that's the hormone that makes you feel all lovey and dopey around people, right?" and think that's more of a class-C thing. Well: yes, but also, apparently no; as it turns out, it does more stuff than that! A friend linked me this article describing the anxiolytic effects of oxytocin:

I am not a chemist so I'll be real: I don't understand this shit beyond the abstract, but the abstract seems to be all one really needs to get the main point here; namely, that oxytocin - in addition to being a bonding hormone - also makes you less stressed. A lot less stressed, it seems like.

So in essence, it seems as if Terrans synthesize their own class-E's from prolonged intimate physical contact. This strikes me as having a lot of potential HDG-coded play uses, and so I'll briefly go over a few of them below:

You can, at least theoretically, probably force someone to get less anxious just by (it'd have to be non-stressful, presumably, or this wouldn't work) physically restraining them and then snuggling with them lots

Have someone who chronically worries about stuff, and can't be convinced to chill out? Just turn their own body against them and make it drug them into forcibly relaxing! There's a lot of potential for very hot play in having someone who is very anxious and usually refuses comfort from their friends just getting forced to snuggle for a while, and the fact that if they don't break out of it, their brain is going to make them calm down adds a very fun con-noncon aspect to it.

I noticed while experimenting that the sound of someone's breathing/heartbeat is in fact very hypnotic, and I found myself naturally synchronising my own breathing with my partner's. This is probably about as close to core cuddles as it's possible to get irl.

Since oxytocin is also a class-C, you can bully whoever you're doing this to about how you are also forcing them to love and trust you in the process!

i am a dumb bitch who doesn't know how to stop working, and the thought of being forced to chill the fuck out by both physical and chemical means is very hot

The last thing I can think to note is that the general sensory overwhelm of being in such close proximity to another person also had a very strong quieting effect on my ADHD; which in turn made falling into a trance state not only easier, but automatic without any encouragement (oh yeah also I'm autistic and ime the sensory from getting squished tight is Very Good). the takeaway here being that it would probably be very easy to hypnotise someone who was being little spoon i think

So yes! I have not yet had the chance to experiment further with this, but I may make a follow-up post when I've had more time to come up with additional ideas. In general I just really like the idea that, if you're anxious, you can just go "hi hello please hold and squish me for an hour" and your brain responds with "understandable; disengaging anxiety module for the next 16 hours". all the memes about terrans being designed for touching were true it seems

[fallenhunnyapple]

Hello Hi time to talk about the Cyberpunk Dreams AU that haunts my waking moments.

I've posted drawing and comics and stuff but it doesn't really explain the World and the AU, as they just focus on the Relationship. So it's time to give a run down of the Universe and Lucifer and Adam's roles in it more Completely. Gonna try and avoid any explicit game spoilers, minimize that as much as I can. I play as Lucifer and @fallennumbskull plays as Adam and we have some of the things they experience influence the story we built, though ultimately the AU mostly focuses on them existing in the setting than following the game experience 1:1.

The world of Cyberpunk Dreams is one that takes place after civil wars and natural disasters have ravaged the US and have left it as a complete ruined dystopia. The main setting is in the city of Cincinnati, now just referred to as Cinci.

Lucifer and Adam both work for some mystery organization that have assigned them missions to fulfill in the City. They don't start off knowing each other and Lucifer gets there first and has a longer time to establish himself, hence why he's already a crime lord while Adam is still Hired Help by the time they start working together.

Their missions are as follows.

Lucifer:

Adam:

A couple of things to note: Lucifer and Adam both have Amnesia. This was done purposefully by those they are fulfilling the missions for. They don't remember anything explicit about their lives before, if they had friends, family, relationships, etc. It's all gone. They know Just Enough to get started and those lost memories are supposed to slowly trickle back in as they become relevant. There is no guarantee that they will ever fully remember their past lives. For one reason or another, they have both agreed to this.

The other thing: They are both Mutants. Mutants in this setting are designer, created on purpose. Uncovering the truth there is Adam's main mission. But regardless, they both have altered DNA that give them certain abilities and certain detriments, each of them having multiple mutations, but One that stands above the rest. Predominantly, Lucifer's main mutation is Vampirism. He requires blood or plasma to drink often, the lack of which prevents him from eating solid foods and if ignored too long can cause reckless bloodlust. But he is also faster, stronger, smarter, more charismatic etc etc, all those stereotypes about Vampires. He _is_ weak to the Sun and if he's out during the day he can burn. And he doesn't have any sort hypnosis or glamour he can use on other people. But he's Charming, so that still works in his favor. And on Adam's side of things, he has wolf DNA. This makes him strong, gives him heightened senses and allows him to talk to Dogs (very useful when they get their own puppy later, her name is Zwei). He is extremely loyal but also reckless and he tends to think of himself as an Alpha, better than anyone else. Well, almost anyone. There's only one person he will accept as being Above him. And on top of all that Adam is something called a 'transhumanist' meaning he's someone who believes that those with mutations and altered bodies are superior to regular humans. He considers himself to be the next step of evolution and has a superiority complex about it.

Back to the setting! Cinci is a mess of a city. You need to Command respect here otherwise you could end up with your brain splattered across an alley wall or your body sold for sex or organs. It's a dark and fucked up town and while there are pockets of more civil and safe zones, the majority of the city and where you spend your time is the Slums. Sure, there are people who just do their best to survive, but Luci and Adam aren't there for that. No, the people who Command respect, who make money and make a name for themselves, the people they need to be in order to progress in their missions are those known as Players. The ones with the money, the ones who work with drugs, prostitution, weapon sales, organ trafficking, the ones who can hire others to do their dirty work for them, the ones who can get access to any and all information they may need.

Lucifer has been there longer, is an established Player and has a large enough crew and amassed enough money to be Comfortable as he works on fulfilling his mission. He hires Adam, who hasn't been there as long and is still working his way up, to be his bodyguard. Lucifer doesn't prevent Adam from continuing to accumulate his own power while he works for him, so it's not an issue. But then they get involved and Lucifer opens up his own network and resources to Adam. They're partners in multiple senses and Lucifer not only promotes Adam to his lover, but he gives him jurisdiction of certain aspects of his business.

Some more about the setting: Mutants are despised. There are mutants out there in Cinci but they have to keep that part of themselves secret (not easy when some mutations are Visible). There is a policing organization called Tower whose policy is Shoot on Sight when it comes to mutants. And they are Indiscriminate about it. If you are a mutant, if Tower becomes suspicious of you, all you can do is try and stay in hiding, not go out during the day, until they lose interest. Otherwise there's no guarantee you'll make it to the next day. And the general population doesn't care for mutants and if they find out, they could either report you or simply refer to you as 'it', mutants being seen as Lesser than humans.

As both Lucifer and Adam are mutants, that makes their lives more dangerous. There have been times where someone from their crew would get Killed to send a message and draw them out for being Mutants. Of course, that person meets the ending they deserve, but it's still worrisome when people find out. Luckily, Lucifer is part of a Vampire Coven/Cult called Black Moon who has members, both vampire and non-mutants, who have infiltrated basically every aspect of society, even Tower itself. And as long as Lucifer does as he's asked and keeps himself from endangering the cult from being discovered, they will keep him safe. And as a rising member of their ranks, he has extra privileges and protections. And when eventually Lucifer brings Adam in as his thrall, Adam is also offered certain protections.

Additionally, there is a special secret sex club called Cluster that is Exclusive for Mutants. Their entrance is hidden and only those who are specifically invited gain access. It's a safe haven for mutants because while it is a sex club, it can also just be a place to relax and feel safe, knowing that there is no fear of being exposed and killed for simply existing as you've been made. Lucifer and Adam do go there frequently, sometimes together and sometimes not. Though they are exclusive in their relationship, there are other reasons to be at Cluster than just sex. Adam seems to disappear sometimes while they're there, but he never tells Lucifer where he went or what happened while he was gone. Lucifer is concerned but has accepted that he's not going to get any answers, no matter how much he may ask.

Just some fun extra notes:

Players go by Street Names and telling someone your real name is a Huge show of trust and is in itself a form of intimacy. Lucifer goes by Serpent and Adam goes by Exorcist. They call each other by their Street Names usually, but when they're alone they revert to their more intimate names.

Adam is a hypersexual adrenaline junkie who gets turned on by violence and Lucifer indulges him by letting him run wild, especially when there are people who need to be killed for one reason or another, and then takes care of him in private after. He also has metalphilia and craves the feeling of metal inside him, whether that be via piercings, implants or metal sex toys. Lucifer has also decided to indulge this part of him by getting dick piercings. It's a lot of work to keep his guard dog satisfied, but Lucifer is willing to do it.

Lucifer wasn't allowed to drink from someone outside of the cult so he never got to drink Adam's blood until he agreed to become his thrall and went through the joining ritual. And then he discovered that actually he really likes how Adam's blood tastes when his veins are coursing with adrenaline. He typically drinks directly from him when they're having sex after Adam fought and/or killed some people. Adam likes it too because he gets reminded how vulnerable a position he's in and how Lucifer could so easily kill him if he chose to.

Lucifer has recurring nightmares and has a tough time sleeping, but Adam can help him relax and sleep more peacefully. He's kind of a wreck if Adam has to leave him for a few days for whatever reason.

Adam is in charge of prostitution but essentially they just take over another pimp's turf (usually killing them in the process) and Adam gives the sex workers a choice. They can continue doing sex work but Adam actually takes care of them and doesn't enforce monetary quotas and while sex works still isnt the best, he's the best pimp they could have since he protects them from shitty johns and doesn't force them to do anything they don't want to do. Alternatively, they can choose to leave sex work behind and start working for Adam as part of his crew and doing odd jobs and such and getting paid enough to manage their own lives.

Lucifer works with a back alley clinic providing trafficked organs. Certain times if he has to kill people personally, Lucifer will siphon out their blood for later and get the corpse picked up by the clinic, no questions asked. They're on good terms and he relies on them if anything happens to himself or Adam and they need medical attention

Lucifer doesn't remember that he has a daughter. And he doesn't remember that his daughter is the one he's meant to rescue. That the reason he was willing to give up all of his memories was to be able to see his daughter again. But even though he doesn't remember, he does know that any of the sick shit that happens in Cinci that involves kids makes him ill and anxious, and Sometimes he will choose empathy because he gets the feeling that there is someone who would want him to.

Lucifer and Adam are in a Dom/Sub relationship. Lucifer awakened Adam's inner sub by domming him once and Adam's never been the same since. Adam would never let any other person top or dom him, Just Lucifer.

I think that covers most of it! I am, of course, open to any and all questions!

( @libby-for-life enjoy this long ass break down)

[neetily]

Ch.3 So, Reddit... AITA? — (SDV) Kent

— ✧ chapter warnings: misogyny, sexism, slowburn — ✧ word count: 4,962 — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ synopsis: AITA (47M) FOR FINALLY FOLLOWING MY DOCTORS ADVICE?

— ✧ A/N: FINALLY, chapter three :D i missed this man so much that i wrote this chapter in two days LOL…. this time, it was beta read, so i hope that shows!! thank you for tuning in, if you do <3 and don't worry, things will start ramping up soon!!

thank you to @usernamemybeloathed and Sonder (link TBA pending confirmation that it's okay!) for beta reading!!

previous

It only takes roughly a week into his supposed peaceful retreat for the culmination of issues to arise, which is fucking typical, if you ask him. Expected, even, to an extent. Because nothing in his life since returning to the valley has ever gone his way thus far, so he’s not sure as to why he’d allow false hope to worm its insidious way back into his hardened heart to whisper the opposite so soon. He should know better by now, he scolds himself silently.

Because to expect anything other than his current troubled life was a pipe dream from the start, and he knew that, regardless of what the doc had ordered. Nobody knows him better than himself, and yet… The pitiful pout you wear in response to his questioning is more pretty than anything else in his mind— and he simply can’t stand the thought. Struggling to swallow the large lump of hope currently stuck in his throat, he opts instead to simply shut up. Lips tightly closed to form a thin line as evidence of his inner turmoil. There’s no power in that which is unspoken, or so he hopes.

And he used to be so good at keeping his emotions hidden, too. Had to be, really, given his role in the army. Impassive to the deafening booms and blaring alarms that would so often surround him— imperfect stoicism. Because nobody is truly perfect, right? But regardless, he had to keep himself somewhat in check, remain cool, calm, and collected in the face of some of the worst humanity has to offer.

Yet, here he is struggling to bite back the simple word pretty in the face of some harmless little girl.

A pretty one at that.

It’s pathetic, in truth, how hard his muscles strain when he clenches and unclenches his fists in an attempt to remain in control. So what if you’re pretty, he bargains with himself. Don’t change a fuckin’ thing, really.

But a part of him wants to reach out and soothe all your troubles away anyway. Tender in his touch, a swarm of butterflies filling his lungs full to leave him momentarily breathless, subsequently causing him to cough the hope away. It’s just fatherly instinct, he tells himself.

Hope hasn’t gotten him anything yet, and he’d rather not start relying on it for anything in the future either. He already learnt his lesson.

The art of longing is a fickle one, however. And against his better judgement—body begging for him to get up and leave, because you’re not his problem. Especially not when he’s supposed to be relaxing and getting better—he decides to inquire further about your obnoxiously obvious upset. Almost on a whim at that, because he has to suppress a pained wince at the sound of his voice when regarding you.

It’s too soft. Too genuine for comfort. A pitter patter of his heart briefly catching that lump in his throat again for him to force his words around, audibly frustrated by your pathetic posture before him. Not that he’s any better, unfortunately.

“Whats got you looking so…” He pauses, searching for the right words to describe exactly what he sees on your face without sounding too accusatory, or so involved as to open too much conversation. He’d rather not concern himself with the wants and wishes of your temperamental attitude. “What’s got you so down?” He settles on after a beat, exhaling heavily at the way you still yet avoid his knowing gaze.

You can’t hide from him for much longer, not when you’re forcing him to confront his inner self too.

You take a moment to respond, and he has half a mind to just get up and go before things get worse. But, “It’s, um…” you initially stutter, and he immediately regrets asking, because he so badly wants to coo down at you with soft words and sweet sounds. Yearns, upsettingly, to see you smile again.

But he isn’t about to beg you for information, refuses to stoop down to such a level. He’s got far too much pride to be grovelling at your feet like that, huffing mostly to himself at your inability to admit your truth despite his asking. Though thankfully—or annoyingly, depending on which side of his brain he wants to listen to in the moment—his evident irritation seems to speed things along for you. Makes you peer up at him with those pleading puppy eyes he’s done his best to avoid thus far into his stay, just to wobble your bottom lip in a manner that has him squinting in an attempt to ignore how trigger happy his fingers are.

“It’s date night…” You confess, slow and steady, as if you were ashamed to admit such a fact in front of your boyfriend’s father. Like he shouldn’t know just how much you miss his precious boy, huh? Which would be weird, if that were the case. That’s not the case, right? That’s not just the case, he assumes... But far be it for him to attempt to draw blood from a stone.

“Right…” He hums, pinching between his eyes to try and stall his next words. Because why should he care? And how does he communicate as such politely, calmly, as per the doctors orders? “And— I mean this with no ill intent, mind you,” He’s quick to preface, which is unlike him. Makes him wonder if somehow, someway, spending time at your lonely little farm has indeed helped him. “This is a problem because…?”

Surely you could just call him, right? Meet up with Sam somewhere in town— Hell, even take a weekend away together. Leave him by his lonesome to tend to your chickens and cows and weeds; which he’s gotten rather good at by now, if he does say so himself. It’s tedious work— long and fucking boring work, but: it keeps him busy. And the solitude of most days is appreciated, even if he’d miss the odd quip or two from the sidelines of you. And yet still, here you pout before him in the living room of your old farmhouse. The book he was reading now laying face down on the page you’d interrupted him at, saved for later because you suddenly seek his resolution?

He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t at least a little happy to be relied upon, in some small way. Evident from how difficult it is for him to suppress a small smile at the way you sigh and squirm on the chair beside the couch he rests on. Flopped down on it earlier like a sad little cat.

You know what you’re doing, and he can hardly be mad at you for tugging on his heartstrings like that. Like knows like and all that.

Which is why he’s so suspicious of your intentions right now, silently sizing you up as you act as innocence incarnate. He’d like to hope that he knows you better by now— and there it is again. The hope you drag up his throat.

“Because, well… Because you’re here, Sam’s busy with his friends and all that, and um… I guess I’m just feeling a little lonely?”

Posed towards him as if it were a question for him to answer, instead of the mere statement he was hoping for.

But deep down, he does want to help you out. Something about how scratching his back has him wanting to scratch yours too— you’ve helped him calm down a little by allowing him entry to your farm, so the least he could do is help cheer you up just a bit tonight, right? It’s only fair.

And he’d like to at least be on good terms with his son’s future wife, even if it goes against every fibre of his being in the meantime.

So, with a slap of his knees he readies himself for standing up. But also, he uses the sound to draw your attention back on him instead of your sad lonely thoughts about his son, regarding you with a tense smile. Forced upon his lips in an attempt to appear friendly, to not have you worried over the sudden sound.

When Jodi was down and depressed, he recalled something that always helped her feel better, even if just a little. “Why dont’cha uh… Get all dressed up or somethin’ anyway? Like y’were still goin’ on a date tonight.” He mumbles, the awkward tension of the night filling his lungs with every steady breath he takes, because he doesn’t wanna come across as anything other than fatherly— and he worries that he’s failing for some reason. Like a gnawing itch in the pit of his stomach, something he can’t quite place with his limited vocabulary every time he compares you to his wife. “Girls like you like that sorta thing, right?” He clarifies himself, trying to quell the all of a sudden anxious energy tight in his chest; he’s fearful of an expected reprimand. Not that he considers you a threat, but you’ve annoyed him enough tonight and he’d like to go back to reading his book, truth be told. Forget all about his comparisons once and for all, maybe.

“Might make ya feel a bit better if y’get all pretty or something…” He trails off to himself, rubbing at the back of his neck absentmindedly whilst straying from your gaze.

“Are you insinuating that I’m not, at this present moment, currently, pretty?” You bite back with such an impish lilt to your voice that he can’t help but to bark laughter back in response. An instinctual action, tumbling from his lips before he has a chance to catch it— if he even wanted to in the first place. Because for as much as it’s simply a natural reaction to your quick witted tongue, it’s also a warning. Don’t fucking push it, young lady.

“I’m afraid m’not at liberty to say.” He holds his hands up in his defence, and finally, he looks at you with his confession. Some small part of him secretly hoping to communicate his true answer behind sleepy eyes. Course, it’s not as simple as that. Nothing in life ever fucking is if your name is Kent, but he tries regardless. Really stares you down as if to make you feel ashamed for bantering with him in such a tempting way, but nonetheless, you continue with a pretty smile. As expected at this point.

See, he wants to seethe at you. Told ya it’d help, as even the mere idea of dressing up has you smiling again. Or, as the intrusive worm in his mind that so often pops up when you’re around frantically exclaims, what if it’s him you’re smiling at? At his see through jokes? At the implication that he does, in fact, find you pretty right now.

Mercifully, you steal the moment away from him, and he’s all too grateful to not have to dwell on the selfish thought much longer.

“You’re right,” You stand up with a clap, and he almost lets a sigh of relief slip past his lips. “Just cause Sam isn’t here doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun, right?”

“Right,” He nods at you, though really, he’d say just about anything to get you away and out of his sight— in fear over what he might mumble out if you were to stick around for much longer. Words he hasn’t said in a long time, words meant for someone other than you. “Go on, git.” He lightly, and playfully, scolds you. Swatting away the vision of your happy smiles and excited giggles with a flick of his wrist, only to suppress a chuckle of his own when he hears your bedroom door click shut.

He hasn’t felt so… So… What’s the word…

Giddy, perhaps? Happy, to put it plainly? In spite of the nagging bother you often present him, it’s been a while since he’s felt something so lighthearted and pleasant. He needn’t give a name to it, he thinks to himself. Only, this is what’s supposed to happen, right? He’s meant to feel this way— it’s what Jodi wanted in the first place. For him to relax, to joke around a little, to smile more often.

And the way you so easily bounce back from utter sadness over such trivial matters is, dare he say it… Inspiring in a sense. Makes him want to try a little harder to better himself, if only to see you making that pretty expression again, and—

“God, give it a rest, Kent…” he mutters under his breath, fully leaning back on the couch to spread his legs out a little more to try and regain comfort upon your exit, grumbling away to himself to try and get you out of his mind. He even attempts to pick up where he left off with his book, turning it face up to find his place in the paragraph again and over, and over, and over again, he re-reads the same few sentences. Trying to focus, to take in the information presented before him— to think of anything other than you.

But it’s harmless, right? Innocuous fun—  he’s just wondering about what outfit you might be picking for the night. Curious over how you might dress up for the so called date night with his son. A twinge in his chest hoping that you’ll dress up real nice— for no reason other than Sam deserves the best, and Kent won’t settle for anything less for his son. Right…?

And your outfits thus far have been nice. Real nice, like that time in the barn when you were too idiotic to accept his help in the first place. You’ve since learnt better, haven’t you? Huffing away to yourself in such a bad mood, coming through to the living room to seek his help out before anyone else. Dummy, he bets you didn’t even think about calling Sam yourself, right? No, not when Kent’s just in the next room, available for all your complaining needs. And as annoying it is to sit through your childish actions, he must admit that it does feel good to be needed to an extent again, as opposed to being pushed aside by his family thus far, cast to the farm under the guise of it somehow bettering him.

He hates how the echo of their words are starting to ring true in his head. Farm life is nice like how Jodi had elaborated on last week. And he’s starting to understand intimately why Sam had scowled at him so much the night of his arrival at your sweet little abode.

If things were different, he’s sure as fuck that he wouldn’t want to leave you alone either.

Which he also hates, mind you. Cannot fucking stand the thoughts you manage to conjure up in his weary mind, lamenting over such stupid things such as what you might be wearing tonight. Loathes to toss and turn the image of you in various dresses he’s seen Jodi wear on similar date nights when he was younger, when the impact of war didn’t weigh so heavily on his mind and she still wanted him around. And he’s just confusing wires in his mind, surely… All he’d like to do is extend thanks for helping him calm down since living on the farm, right? He just—

“Keeeeent—” he hears your voice call out to him, muffled from behind the wall that separates him from you, and he can only grumble discontent back at nothing at all. Book tossed aside with the amount of care he holds for his own wellbeing—pages crumpled under the imprecise throw, something for him to be frustrated at later—as he stands to heed your insidious call. Like moth to a flame; how utterly detestable.

“Coming—!” He yells back soon after, an exasperated sigh following as he stretches out his old and tired back and thighs: farm work is hard work, he’s come to understand.

He knocks twice upon reaching your door, as every gentleman should. Because even if you’ve specifically asked after him, there are boundaries to respect, as annoying as they are. Rules he must follow to regain normalcy to his otherwise disrupted life, right? And at least he’s trying, you should be thankful for that. It’s more than he’d managed when first arriving back home to the valley…

He’s not a bad man, he’s just not exactly nice. A little rough around the edges, a bit sharp thanks to the life he’s thus led. But you’ve helped soften him up, he can no longer deny his actions.

“All good?” He speaks to the door, once again knocking against it with impatience stretching across his knuckles when you fail to respond to his first few.

“Y-Yeah!” You stutter back to him, and his brows furrow in brief confusion as to why you’ve called his name then. To which, you answer rather promptly behind your previous words with: “Actually, uh… No, not really,” and he can already pick up on your nervousness behind the hidden giggle you let out afterwards. “It’s… I mean, can you just come in?”

He pauses for a moment, considering his circumstances. There aren’t very many good reasons as to why you’d require him in your room right now, and, in fact, he’s thus yet never set foot into the space you share with his son this whole trip. Like a forbidden barrier he’s unsure as to why he’s unwilling to cross, opening and closing his mouth a few times to try and sort through the appropriate questions in his racing mind.

And he wonders what sort of outfit you’ve got on again.

“You sure?” He questions you from behind the door, lips pressed almost completely to it to make up for how much lower his voice grows with his thoughts. But you’re an adult, in spite of the sheer immaturity you exhibit on occasion— it’s probably not your fault. You’ve still got a lot of life to live that he’s already done and seen before, but you’re capable enough of making your own decisions, surely. He at least respects you that much.

“Yup! I’m dressed, promise!”

That’s all the confirmation you need to offer before he’s placing a rough hand on the door handle to your bedroom, gripping it tighter than any other handle in your home, and turning it ever so slowly like a fucking… peeping tom or something, peeking from around the slit his slow actions cause into your secret room with careful caution, until he inevitably has to widen the gap to allow himself access and— huh.

It’s certainly cleaner than his boys’ room back home, more appropriately decorated—if a little too much for his liking, but it’s better than none—and well… Comfortable. Homey, even, as a nice scent surrounds him upon closing the door behind himself with an inaudible gasp. Kept to himself in an attempt to keep friendly appearances up; he’s been doing so well tonight, hasn’t he? Putting up with your inane talk and stupid problems, even coming after you called, like a fucking dog.

And there that annoyance rears its ugly head again. Suddenly unsure as to why he’s even bothered to heed your call, and if he even wants to be sharing the same space as his son does with you. He’s only just gotten used to exploring the rest of the old farmhouse without ever feeling Sam’s presence, but he notices a tossed aside shirt from his son laying on a chair, tucked away into the corner of the room. And it spoils his mood about as much as the shirt stains the otherwise pretty scene.

Which is a shame, because the second he decides to steel himself with a deep inhale to look at you, his frustration only grows.

If this is what you usually wear on date nights with his son, well, he can certainly understand Sam’s intentions well. Deep to the core, even. Like father like son, he’s always appreciated the classic look above anything else. And though he genuinely believes that every outfit you’ve worn since his arrival to the farm has suited you perfectly fine, tonight’s choice takes the cake. Forces him to exhale shakily, eyes unfocused as he’s uncertain as to where he can look, even as your back is turned to him to showcase your nape like it were obscene.

And his hands grow sweaty at the sight alone, a trickle running down his forehead for him to furrow at again. It’s annoying to react so honestly like this, to a mere girl, too. His tacky palms clenched together as he does his best to follow old orders.

Calm, cool, collected.

“Um, hi…” You disturb his thoughts with a smile, which he can fucking hear, because he’s spent enough time around you by now to pick up on small details like that. Calm. “I dunno if you can see but, uh, I think…” And despite staring straight down at the floor, ignoring your desperate call for his attention, he can hear you shuffling and shifting around to try and point something out to him, but something within him clings onto the vain hope of avoidance. Cool. “I think the zip is stuck… Can you help, please?” Duh, he thinks to himself. There’s no other reason as to why you’d require his existence in your room besides to help with your stuck zip. But his chest tightens with something, a mix of relief and disapproval, something sticky and sweet and unnecessary, he decides. Stay collected, Kent.

And as a means to stall, he coughs into the space left between, wetting his lips in sheer frustration as if doing so would somehow help him escape the current situation he now finds himself in. But it’s not all bad, really! Because when he once again returns his gaze to your bare back, he’s forced to accept that yeah. You look real pretty tonight. More so than any other night he’s spent on the farm, and it’s so easy to pretend that you’ve dressed up for him instead, and not some imaginary play pretend date with his son.

God, he perishes the thought to be honest with you. Cannot fucking stand to think about it any longer, so he opts to instead roll his eyes in the safety of your back, and walks steadily towards you. One heavy foot at a time, hyper aware of his every step and sigh as he inches closer, and closer, until he’s face to face with your caught zip and he can’t help but to smirk a little at how downright helpless you are.

It’s so tiny, it’s no wonder you’re having trouble with it. And ordinarily, he’d assume Sam would be right where he���s currently standing, ready and willing and eager to help just as much as he is. And the thought sickens him. Turns upsettingly in his stomach as he sizes the zip up next to his much larger, rougher hand, and he has to stop just short of brushing his knuckles along your spine. Not that he particularly had meant to, but something within him begs to. Like an internal alarm, blaring red alert, halt—! Like he were doing something wrong, crossing a boundary he shouldn’t even think about, let alone act out.

But again, you’re an adult, and you did ask him for his help. And it’s not like he’s actually doing anything wrong, right? He’s just helping zip you up, while you cling to the front of the dress fabric tight to your chest, else it’d fall down and— oh, right. You’ve neglected to wear a bra, which again…! Is totally normal, as he’s seen his wife wear dresses that require no bra before, but isn’t this at least a little weird given that he’s standing where Sam should be, in your shared room, late at night no less—

“Ready?” He asks you once, because he doesn’t have it within him to ask again. Holding onto his breath as if to focus intently on the fact that he’s just helping. There’s nothing more to it, no ulterior motives tonight as he hovers above the pesky zip with sweaty palms.

“Mhm, go ahead.” You respond back, quick and cool. And the sound of your steadfast affirmation is enough to calm him down somewhat, because if you don’t care about how tonight might be misconstrued by other parties, then why should he care, right?

And yet something within him still hangs on. Beats gently, in a slow rhythm. Like a throbbing headache, only in his chest.

His hand lowers to catch your zip, his other free hand coming up to pull tight tension against the caught part of the dress, and with one swift and final tug, he’s able to easily pull the two apart. Leaving you free from the trap of your own doing, and walking right into it himself.

Once making sure you’re steady enough from his rather harsh tug, which he immediately and quietly apologises for—he wasn’t aware that a farmer such as yourself would be so fragile, or perhaps he’s just unaware of his own strength?—he makes sure to help pull the tab all the way up to the top for you. Letting you once and for all let go of your chest now that the dress is properly in place and finally, he can take a step back to admire his work and effort.

“Let’s see then,” He hums softly, a little startled at the tone he carries with his words, but he’s far too frazzled to try and make sense of it tonight, unable to offer it his full attention when you much too eagerly turn around for him to showcase the cute number you’ve picked out for tonights fake date. And for as much as he thinks you look stunning in the little black dress, sleek and fitted so nicely to your form that he has to look down at your feet more than twice to stop himself from staring, he’d like to see it in action too. Give it—and you—the appreciation it deserves, seeing as Sam isn’t around to do so tonight, and: he hopes that if he gives in to you just a bit more, maybe you’ll sufficiently leave him alone for the rest of the night. Let him mull over the events of the night in privacy. “Give us a spin, yeah?”

And Sam must have taught you well, because you happily oblige the moment the words leave his mouth. Which is more than he’s experienced thus far, so he can’t avoid the smile that tugs on his lips when you do, in fact, spin around in a circle for him. Showcasing every pretty inch of the dress, and how it flows so sweetly on your body, curving in all the right places as the memory of his position in the barn flashes across his mind again. Prompting him to fold his arms across his chest in defence of himself— he’s just looking. Appreciating that which he should, he bargains with himself. There’s nothing wrong with having a look, especially considering that you’re practically family at this point.

Ouch, there’s a pang of pain in his heart at the thought.

“So…” You smile at him, all bright and wide and— it’s troubling, actually. Has his heart in a squeeze, as if momentarily stunned by just how happy you look when all dressed up with nowhere to go. And he realise that he might be just a tad jealous over how normal you appear right now, taking in the appreciation he offers like a glass half full, when his remains half empty. “What do you think? Nice, right?”

“Yeah,” He admits honestly with a suppressed smirk. “S’nice all right. Good choice, think Sam’ll love it.”

You tut back at him and he’s taken aback at the sound. Not from upset, but from a tint of pride.

“I wasn’t asking if Sam likes it.”

“Yeah,” He looks at anything other than you, once more rubbing at the back of his neck to try and rid the anxious energy that coils in his tummy. Because he understands intimately what you’re getting at, but he’s absolutely fucking certain that you don’t mean it in the way he’s currently understanding it. So he fumbles for an answer, anything to get you off his case for now, before rushing out a quick “Yeah I know, kid. Told ya s’pretty. What more d’ya want?”

That, thankfully, fulfils your seeking of approval for now. Because he understands that you’re likely only seeking the approval of your soon to be husband’s father, and that he shouldn’t expect or even want anything else.

He’s just getting a little lost in farm life, he assures himself. The comfort of healing away from home, the fantasy of the vacation. He just needs to get through to the end of the week without giving in to his selfish tendencies and then everything will be better. It’ll all be better and he’ll return home and forget all about how nice and simple farm life was to him, and the comforting space of a break you so graciously offer him. And, fuck, he needs to get out of here, he thinks. Before he starts to actually miss the stupid fucking smile on your stupid fucking face.

“Hold on,” You mumble to yourself, clearly distracted as you search around your room for something he’s yet to be privy to. “Go back out and wait a few minutes, I have another dress to show you!”

Oh, it’s going to be a long night of longing.

[bennysblabbering]

NSFW Headcanons: Stampede

(98 coming soon!)

Ft. Vash, Wolfwood, Knives, Meryl

I may add Legato and Roberto if people want them lol.

Vash

• Definitely either afab or intersex. Does not have a human dick. I like the idea of him (and Nai) having genitals that look like a vulva by default but have a plant-like structure that can extend out of the clitoral hood capable of penetrating.

Something that looks like this or this. I think his would be around 6 inches.

• I also think plants would have no nipples or navels, and no body hair from the neck down.

• Either a sub or a soft & loving dom. Would literally rather die than be mean or degrading.

• Probably 60/40 bottom/top, he just likes to feel good and make his partner feel good. When he bottoms, he prefers it vaginally. Not a huge fan of anal, but he'll occasionally indulge his partner if they want that.

• Loves scissoring/tribbing if he has an afab partner. Will absolutely beg and whine to rub pussies when he's in the mood for it.

• King of squirting. Could win a fucking contest. When he cums, it gets real messy with all the slick and squirt he's released everywhere. (Not that he minds...he likes it messy.) Also, his markings glow when he cums really hard.

• Usually starts out with just quiet whimpers and whines, simply from just being self-conscious. Once he starts to feel more comfortable and trusting, those whines turn into full moans.

-

Wolfwood

• His dick's about average girth and roughly 7 inches. The perfect length of not too big, not too small. Feels incredible in all the right spots. Uncut, too, and loves to twitch and leak. Really responsive to stimulation.

• Has only ever dommed before. He'd be hesitant to sub, simply due to his closed-off nature, but he might be willing to once he really trusts someone. Despite what it might seem like, his default is soft and affectionate, but he will absolutely be rough and dirty if you ask. (In fact, he prefers it rough and dirty.)

• In the same vein, he's also only topped. Probably wouldn't be too huge of a fan of bottoming but he'd be fine with trying it. Likes to be fingered, though- put a finger up his ass while sucking him off and he's a goner.

• Likes to experiment and willing to try most things at least once. If you've got a kink or fetish, he'll indulge you- he likes to see you turned on, and it's possible you'll convert him to be into it too.

• Obsessed with watching his cum drip down your skin or ooze out of your hole. It makes him feel possessive and swell with pride.

• A pussy/ass-eating god. Gets real down and dirty, pins you by the thighs and just mercilessly goes to fucking town. His tongue is so skilled it'll make you cum every time, especially since his scruff feels amazing when it rubs against your skin.

-

Knives

• (Go back to Vash's section to read how I headcanon plant genitals/bodies)

• His...we'll call it a stem? would be around 7.5 inches. Just a bit bigger than Vash.

• 100% dom. Would rather have his arms and legs cut off than sub.

• Actually really likes to bottom, doesn't really care which hole. He does top though; he honestly has no preference. But if he's topping you, you better prepare yourself to have a sore hole and bruises all over your body.

• Big degrader. Can't bring himself to be soft or loving. The nicest he can be is neutral. But if you like being called a "stupid fucking slut" or "filthy cock-addicted human" then he's your man.

• Not very vocal, but loves to growl and groan. He'll lean over you and growl possessively right into your ear to intimidate you.

• Also he would absolutely use his knives for weapon play. Gently drags them along your skin and finds your nervous shaking incredibly arousing. Might even lightly wrap them around you and get hard at the sight of you paralyzed in fear.

-

Meryl

• Prettiest fucking pussy in the world. Cute little pink folds topped with a perfectly kissable bud. She keeps the hair trimmed but not entirely shaved.

• Complete switch when it comes to dynamics, she can't just pick one. She loves both subbing and domming. She has a size difference kink specifically when she doms, though- she loves to control people significantly larger than her (which...is most people. She's 4'9.)

• Loves to bottom but will top for the right person. Definitely has a preference though. She can't help it, she loves the feeling of her tight cunt being pounded.

• Cums at the drop of a fucking hat. She'll cum at least 2-3 times a night when having sex. Earth-shattering orgasms, too. Her entire body thrashes and her moans border on screaming.

• Loves to get fucked in missionary the best. She loves to wrap her legs around her partner's waist, lay back and hold the pillow, and feel them railing her deep inside. She actually really likes it fast and hard.

• When topping, she likes to dirty talk and play a little rough. Loves to spank, pull hair, bite and mark up, all that good stuff. By the end of the night, her partner will know they're hers.

[slylittleprincess]

Personhood - A Short Saga

Hazel’s life was falling apart, until Sooli Rotalaia, Fourth Bloom decided she could do a much better job living it for her. Now, Hazel’s a ditzy embarrassment, and she fucking hates loves it.

This is a story in the Human Domestication Guide setting by GlitchyRobo. It features strong non-con elements throughout. Read those tags!

BTS below the thing

Personhood was a deeply personal story to write, and I think that vulnerability shows through. It’s a horror to fluff tale of disempowerment that tries to hone in on the terror of being perceived and mix it with the bliss of being known until it creates a scary sexy soup. I’ll leave it up to you whether or not I succeeded in that goal.

It’s also a fun kinky exploration of bimbofication and public sex! That’s important too.

The feeling I really tried to capture was the joy and sorrow that accompanies a transition, both the gender transition and also a transition from appearing able-bodied to appearing disabled.

Originally this story was called “The Concept of a Person”, and that title still gets used heavily within the prose. I found that title made less and less sense as it strayed from being a sequel to “The Nature of Reality” and grew more and more into a personal tale. Personhood felt like it captured a state of being a lot better and it was snappier so that’s what I chose. I still have a third story unwritten story from that list, “The Purpose of a Mouth”, but Open Wide/Wide Open swindled a lot of ideas from that bucket anyways haha.

Mechanically, I was really interested in exploring an inversion of the mind control genre by constructing a scenario where someone might be full body controlled while their mind was untouched. l’ve always found the idea of self betrayal and self conditioning kind of sexy and scary, and I was really proud of how that concept ultimately wove into the self acceptance narrative in a way that stuck to the axioms. One of the other big conventions of HDG is a dramatic and climactic “breaking” scene, and as part of the body control idea I was really tickled by what I called “invisible breaking on a Tuesday afternoon”, an almost anticlimax version of that big moment. In real life, we often make massive realizations at the most benign times. I realized my EDS was never going to go away while I was eating a cupcake on break from work one day. It was my personal wish fulfilment to have Hazel surrounded by friends and unconditional love when she had her private realization.

Personhood is about a lot of things.

It’s about how sometimes you can deny the obvious until a kind doll kind sits you down for a frank discussion.

It’s about the fantasy of someone forcing you to rest and pushing you to become the person you deserve to be.

It’s about putting another “NC” in front of “CNC”.

It’s about the half life you live when you refuse to love yourself fully.

It’s about healthy friends and unhealthy friends. It’s about me, and us, and you, and I hope you enjoyed it. After all, I used to be just like you.

[deconstructthesoup]

Some STP Human Headcanons (Vessels)

-I mentioned this in my last Slay the Princess post, but Prisoner loves to dance. As soon as she's free to walk and move around, she learns how to dance as a way to a) feel like she's in control of her body again, and b) fully explore the freedom she's now offered. The day she learns swing dances is the first day that any of the others have seen her smile.

-Witch has about twenty different kinds of carnivorous plants in her house, and all of them have names. She likes talking to them, because plants don't say that you're dragging on when you complain about your day, or tell you that your outfit looks awful when you're trying something new, or tell you that you're a massive dork when you gush about your favorite graphic novel series.

-Oh, yeah, Witch is a comics/graphic novel nerd. She's a big fan of Alison Bechdel, Vera Brosgol, ND Stevenson, and Elaine Lee, and she loooooooooves Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. She reads DC comics for them and them alone.

-As a way to express some individuality while they're still figuring out what their personality is---and if they even have a cohesive one---Stranger dresses in incredibly elaborate outfits, and the style changes rapidly from day to day. They can go from dressing like a Southern Belle (complete with a parasol) to dressing like a Victorian swashbuckling thief (complete with a cane and masquerade mask) to dressing like they're heading to a 1980's roller rink (surprisingly, they make the skates work) on any given day, and all of the girls place bets on whatever they're going to wear next. Nobody has won.

-It's a terrible pun, but I'm ridiculously attached to the idea of Razor being a metalhead---and if not a metalhead exactly, then a major fan of any and all punk rock music released in the Riot Grrl era. She owns every single Bikini Kill album, every single Raincoats album, and will neither confirm nor deny having a Joan Jett body pillow. If she can sing-scream along to it, she'll listen to it.

-Adversary is the most kickass roller derby player you have ever seen in your life. She's got face-paint, she's got stickers on her helmet, she's got scuffed shoulder and knee pads from bodying the girls on the other team... she's fucking awesome. Razor shows up to every single game with a hand-painted sign for her.

-Damsel is obsessed with video games like Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, the Sims---basically, anything that's cute and low-stakes, she'll play. She absolutely has a set of pink cat-ear headphones that Witch bought for her. (Prisoner has matching blue ones, but she never wears them.)

-Nightmare is a theater kid. She recites Shakespearean monologues at the drop of a hat, devours occult-themed musicals like her life depends on it, and has a flawless soprano voice that will actually give you chills. Her rendition of "The Ballad of Jane Doe" at a voice recital made several people cry. She relishes in their tears.

-Prisoner and Spectre both love books, but while it's more of an academic thing for Prisoner (she likes history and math, because it's just facts), Spectre is a total fiction reader. Mostly classics like Jane Austen and Agatha Christie, but she's also got a bit of a guilty pleasure for well-written romance novels, and she loves The Locked Tomb series. Even if the Alecto stuff hits a bit too close to home.

-Stranger is really into arts and crafts, to the point where they've pretty much learned everything from crotcheting to making clay earrings. Almost all of their creations end up being gifted to one of the girls, and they're all very much treasured and appreciated.

-Tower has a difficult time really connecting with most of the girls, since she's still trying to get herself to come down from her superiority complex, but she has figured out that they will always like her as long as she brings her credit card with her. No matter the setting, Tower is fucking loaded, and even the more masc girls like Adversary are willing to go on a shopping spree.

-That being said, I think Tower gets along the best with Nightmare, because they're both absolutely self-assured, barely care about other people (except their best girls, of course), and are both intimidating in their own ways. They're absolutely the kind of best friends who bitch about people while doing each other's nails.

-Witch and Spectre both do witchcraft for funzies, but Witch is more about the plants and herbalism, while Spectre's all about the Oujia boards and tarot cards. They're kind of in a two-person coven together---you gotta find something to bond over, and what better way to connect than your shared interest in magic?

-If I'm not just making Beast into a cat, I'm making Beast into a preteen, because just making her a human adult just doesn't... fit her. Besides, it's way more easy---and more fun---to imagine her as that low-key feral kid who's always digging for worms during recess, always gets into fights with bullies and winds up covered in Band-Aids as a result, always wears the same ratty cat-ear beanie every day, and hisses at people who annoy her. She has weird-little-girl energy, I dunno what to tell you. (She still tags along on hangouts when there's no alcohol involved, though---she's either Witch's little sister or her daughter, and Witch is very keen on making sure she's included.)

-Damsel bakes. Every time one or more of the girls comes over, she has something in the oven, something sitting on the kitchen table cooling, and something that's in the middle of being frosted. She likes doing it because while it is something that she largely does for others, it's also something that gives her a sense of pride, and she also just has a lot of fun with it. Even when she has to clean up, she's humming a song from a Barbie movie under her breath. Probably from Princess & The Pauper (the best one, fight me).

-Adversary used to play the violin when she was a kid, but she got bored of it quick, and she switched over to the bass as soon as she could. Spectre is very good at playing the cello---she even does recitals!---and Witch... well, she played the French horn in high school. During marching band. It was the only extracurricular where she could have free reign to be as annoying as possible to the people who said that she had to have one for college credit. (Oh, also, Razor plays electric guitar. She's a really good singer, but she's an even better growler.)

And... I think that's all I got for now.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐞

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I'm making a prologue to a couple of things. This will be remastered, but I will link the first chapter always before I can change it.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: A man finds himself where he shouldn't be...

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k.

TW // Violence, Death.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter 1} ⚠️Chapter 1 needs remastered.⚠️

His breath is broken; labored. He’s been running from the unknown in this damn foggy ass forest for so long that he’s unsure he could get out of it. He had lost his way a long time ago; that part was something he couldn't ignore. It feels like hes been in this forest for ages, when in reality it could have been only a couple hours. He hasn't slept, that means the day didn’t pass, right? …Where was his group? He was with a group of people he trusted with his life beforehand. He can't even find them anymore. They were close together, knowing how dangerous a foggy forest filled with things of shadows could be. Now there is nothing of them, no trace as if they had abandoned him. He definitely felt like it too: abandoned by his own brethren and sisters.

No, he can’t afford to even think right now. He knows something is pursuing him. Something smaller then huge, he's unsure. The… aura keeps shifting around him from all of his hairs on his body rising quickly up to the area feeling a lot more colder despite all of his running to keep him heated. It was… it was unusual. It feels otherworldly. Was he just getting hunted by two things or just one? Was he just imagining it with the shadows that move within the fog? He has to be. Nothing moves so quickly within the shadows like a damn phantom. He doesn't believe in ghosts!

He inhales, pausing his run to try and leave the accursed forest that looks like something out of a spooky horror movie: winding, leafless branches trying to block out the moon. The dead patches of grass here and there: creating puddles of mud. The thick fog that makes you think there is something with you, and maybe there is, for him. No, he knows there is, but he just can’t see it. He’s… he’s unable to. He doesn’t have… he doesn’t have something. He is not some apex predator like the thing hunting him.

His skin prickles at the coldness of the dark, twitching at the slightest sound. His eyes trying to see through the thickness of the fog and the night that’s only luminous by the moon. He swears he can see something small, human-sized before it’s replaced by a bigger figure a few feet away in the grayish fog, he swears it. Was this smaller figure running too? Was it a possible squad mate? If it was… he wasn’t keen on retracing his steps to just see if it was a squad mate or not. A coward he maybe called, but he really didn’t want to die to somebody else’s choices, even if it was his own.

Something snaps, echoing through the forest, and he immediately jumps back into action, not wasting his time. His legs carrying him in a direction, in any direction to get him to feel safe. He doesn’t care where at the moment. Not like he knows where he is, but he is afraid. He didn’t think he would die so soon. The age 37 didn’t play well in his heart nor mind to die at as he wished he could live until he was over a hundred. He wished he didn’t criticize the old for wanting to live that long when there was beauty left in the world he has never gotten access to see. He wished he was back a few hours ago, laughing with his squad mates. He wished he was back into the protection of his guardians.

He just fucking wishes he wasn’t in this damn spooky forest!

He lets out a quiet, dreading whimper while his own thoughts consume him for a moment. His boots thudding rhythmically; harshly into the ground. The metal decorations of his gear slightly giving a tink with each exhausting movement he does in order to keep his instincts alive. His head pounding way too fast, too loud in his head. He wants everything to stop! He doesn’t like this long feeling of fear draping over his shoulders, taunting him! Laughing at him! Urging him to—

The man yelps, falling to the ground, faceplating into the cold mud he had slipped on. The whole front of his gear and body now covered in the cold slick of the earth. His lips quivering as he looks up to the moon with glossy eyes and heaving breaths. The shine of the moon rays revealing an abandoned truck, troubled with vines and flora off to the left side of him, and he wonders… Maybe… the moon would lead him to safety? It’s the only thing that’s been helpful to him since he’s been in this damned forest of fear. Leading him to god knows where, but he follows the damn light like a kid running away with sugar they are not supposed to have.

Despite his belief of the moon saving him. He quietly whines to himself in frustration and dread. His hands grasping tightly at the mud that goes between his fingers with a squelch while he shimmy’s himself underneath the truck, taking it as a temporary safe haven until morning. If he can make it that far. His own heart is still pounding in his own ears while he tries to quiet down his whimpering breath. God! This forest is a fucking death trap! How was he supposed to get out?! Would he even get out at all? Was that possible at this point? Should he give up? 

No, he’s gotten this far—

His breathing stutters in his own lungs and stops. A whole new fear washing over him. His eyes staring at the boots that stand next to the truck, giving a little squish sound as this person shifts their weight. They were a bit small to be a male, and they seemed light, trying to be stealthy. Was this a squad mate of his? It can’t be, could it? No, they weren’t hiding like he was. They seemed more confident in their abilities… Were they… the hunter? Was this the person hunting him? This is what he was afraid of? A singular being?

Something cracks through the area again then, a low, rumbling growl as he closes his eyes briefly, expecting to be hit before slowly opening them again. It’s a warning call it sounds like, and the man takes quick note of how the persons boots… twitch at the sounds before quickly moving away, back into the shadows of the forest. That was not the person he was— should be afraid of. Something bigger is out there. Something that has complete control over the surrounding area.

He waits with bated breaths. Shifting his body onto his back. Eyes flickering up and down the underside of the truck, taking in its rusted form. Trying to calm his racing heart so he could finally hear what kind of beast was around him. Hunting him. He hopes the thing would leave him alone, forget about him, at least till the morning when he could see better. Maybe he could please the thing by giving it more of a challenge—

He lets out a scream. The truck he was hiding under was picked up and thrown away with ease. A cloud of rust eloping him, stinging his fearing eyes as he can hear the scrapped truck taking the trunks of tree’s down with a horrifying creak and rumbling thud that shook the ground. His form desperately scrabbling back with palms and boots; away from this– this dark creation of god! No, not even that. It wasn’t even a demon. This– this was something darker, something that a god didn’t– couldn’t create. This was– is a monster of pure evil. He was taught of these despicable creatures. They were not known for mercy, and he wasn't known to scream blood while the vibrant, red glare of the creature stares directly into his soul as if they were taking it out of him, collecting it for their own amusement while he chokes on his own battered body.

Perhaps… he should have never accepted the truth of these creatures. He should have stayed oblivious to their ways. Should have repented his hate as he wouldn’t be seeing the lifeless corpses up in the treetops, simply hanging there by their necks. Uselessly watching his own death come to play as if the dead knew all along that he would fall beneath their dull, blind eyes. It was a dangerous sign he realized before he took his last choking breath.

He dared to defy them and the creature would make him— them watch his death by their hand as they have died the same unfortunate fate.