#the questions were wittled down so much and tested and everything

[louferrignojrofficial]

if i got the chance to interview oliver stark about 911, you bet your ass i wouldn’t waste a single question over something like ‘will tommy be jealous of buck and eddie’s friendship?’ after we have seen multiple times he isn’t, and most recently in the new episode. not to mention we’ve seen even eddie isn’t jealous of buck and tommy’s relationship, and we were shown that yet again in the premiere. there are so many more interesting things you could ask about buck’s actual relationship and that story, or even buck and eddie. but no.

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Love Me Tender•

Summary: After waiting, watching, and wanting, Tamaki finally has a way to get to you. He's willing to do use some questionable methods, make deals with shifty friends, whatever it takes. He'll have you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Tamaki Amajiki x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, coercion, sabotage, manipulation, hard dom Tamaki, slight brat reader, mostly sub reader, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle play (oral, vaginal, anal, gagging), bondage (with tentacles), mild dumbification, degradation, spit play, cum play, wittle bit of bloodplay, creampie, marking, possession kink, collaring. Kinda-sorta dub-con (not really imo but warning just in case)

Word Count: 11,576

A/N: Jesus fucking christ I did it.

Part One: Porcelain Obsession

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

   Tamaki awoke painfully this morning, body aching and covered in dried sweat. It wasn't a feeling to be proud of, but it was a feeling he cherished. 

   Your stolen underwear is clutched in his hand still, like a lifeline. It still smells just a little bit like you… but not enough. He couldn't feel you or taste you or hold you. He had to figure something out, quickly. He had to find a way to make you his. 

   Luckily, Tamaki knows exactly how to make that happen…

***                                         

  You hang up your apron with a deep sigh, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Thank god it's only a half day, you finally have an afternoon off, a day to spend by yourself. 

   You bid your coworkers farewell and head out of the shop. You wander home, earbuds in as you try to drown out the noise of the city. Once you're home, you notice a small box on your doorstep. 

   It's a pretty little gold box with purple ribbon, a tiny note is attached to the top. The scribbled writing reads,

   "I thought this would look pretty on you, I'm sorry about the weird exit last night. I'd like to take you to get some coffee to make up for it, if you'll let me." - Tamaki

   Your heart flutters a bit at the note, you had deduced you were nothing more than a charity case. Him walking you home was just what he felt was fair in exchange for the use of your phone, he didn't really… like you? Did he? 

   His exit was just a little bit strange, he seemed almost panicked. You wanted to ask if everything was ok, but figure it best to stay out of a hero's business. Who knows what door you'd be opening if you started to ask too many questions.

   Beneath his note is a phone number, obviously his. You can't call him right away, it might seem desperate, but you can open the box. 

   When the lid comes off, you gasp quietly at what's hidden inside. On a delicate silver chain sits one lovely little pearl. You stand there, amazed and confused. Wondering why on earth somebody like Suneater would leave such a precious little gift for you. 

***

   You called the number left on the note about an hour after receiving it. As soon as Tamaki picks up the phone your heart leaps into your throat. 

   "I didn't think y-you'd call." He laughs afterwards, but you can hear traces of genuine anxiety underneath. 

   "Well, what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn't call back the hero that saved me from a lonely walk home?" Your face crinkles up at your horrid attempt at flirting. 

   He doesn't seem to mind, though. He gives you a sweet laugh, putting some of your nerves at ease. 

   "So, uh- coffee?" He wonders. 

   "I'd love to, I just got off work, but I imagine you're busy doing hero stuff. We can-"

   "No I'm not busy." He says quickly, his urgency makes you smile. He's almost boyish in his approach, and it's very charming. 

   Somehow, between the two of you suffering your way through the conversation, you set a time for coffee.

***

    Tamaki makes a quick stop before meeting you, visiting a horrid friend of his in an alleyway a hero should never be unless he's kicking someone's ass. 

   His "friend" turns out to be a little more than your average criminal. He's a wicked looking man, with a mess of black hair and an abundance of scarring littering his body. 

   They call him Dabi. 

   "So what's the plan here? Am I just scarin' the poor girl or do I get to have some real fun?" His smile is devilish, and his eyes are telling. 

   It makes Tamaki's skin crawl, he stares daggers at the man leaning against the brick of the alleyway. 

   "If you touch her, I will gut you like a fucking fish." Tamaki says, he's full of rage, but he says it so calmly, so matter of fact. 

   "You can try." Dabi laughs, "You forget how easy it is to cook seafood." 

   Tamaki stands there for a brief second, watching the villain, weighing his options. 

   "I'm not here for banter, can you do the job or not?" His words are clipped, strangely articulate compared to his usual stutter. 

   "Yeah whatever, I got nothin' planned for tonight, and I do love making little girls scream." He tilts his head back against the wall as Tamaki turns to stalk away. 

   "Hey, Suneater." Dabi calls out with a lazy voice. 

   Tamaki freezes and keeps his back to Dabi. He turns his head to the side and waits for him to speak. 

   "Send her my way when you're done with her." If Tamaki had less of the public eye on him, he would have slit Dabi's throat then and there. 

   Instead, he swallows his rage as he tosses a hefty wad of cash over his shoulder. 

   "Don't be late." 

***

   "You always just drink it black? Not even a little bit of sugar?' You ask, astounded by Tamaki's ability to drink the bitter liquid without any sweetener.

   "Sugar is kind of useless for me, I try to eat things that'll help me with m-my quirk." He explains, his deep eyes wander while he talks, like he's watching for something. 

   That must come with being a hero. 

   "Does coffee help your quirk?" You ask, a smile playing at your lips when you see him frown at his drink. 

   "No, but it helps me focus."

   You nod playfully before taking a sip, the cafe he's brought you to is incredibly charming. It's not an overly hip establishment, it's just a sweet little hidden gem. Tucked away into a forgotten street, it gives the impression that it's a well kept secret between two best friends. 

   "Do you feel like people ask too much of you?" You question. It slips out so quickly, running away from you after launching out of your lips. 

   Your hatred for small talk gets the best of you and you jump the gun, as always. You want to hide, but not before you apologise a thousand times for being too straightforward. 

   Tamaki looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes show that he's shocked, but not offended.

   "Sometimes. It can feel like people expect me t-to be the…" He pauses for a moment, mentally grasping for the right word. 

   "It feels like people expect Heroes to be this ultimate, universal band-aid. In a lot of ways, we are, but we're still h-human… I-I'm still human…" His voice slows down by the end of his sentence, like he's realized he might be over sharing. 

   But, you asked him, you wanted to know. You actually care about him? Every bone in his body is screaming at him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and run away. He feels some carnal desire to just keep you. Hide you from every selfish asshole that would take advantage of the starstruck look in your beautiful eyes. 

   He can't, though… not yet. 

   "S-sorry…" He whispers. 

   And then, you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. He feels the contact all the up his arm, into his chest, into his heart. 

   So you do want him too. 

   "Please don't be sorry, I liked listening to you talk." You say quietly. 

   You did love it, you loved it because you've felt so unheard, so unseen. Being able to provide somebody else with a pair of listening ears serves as a kind of relief for those feelings. 

   "Can you tell me more?" You test, hand squeezing his own a little more. 

   He looks almost elated, thrilled to be seen, excited to be heard. Most of all, he's itching to finally have you. 

***

   The date was nothing short of wonderful, filled with cute little fumblings of words, hands brushing but never holding, and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves with each other. 

   You flop onto your bed, reminiscent of a teenager who's just had their first kiss. You didn't kiss him goodnight, you chickened out of that. But you did press your lips against his cheek for a brief moment, which seemed to have quite the effect on him. 

      His breath hitched, his fists balled at his sides, acting like he'd never been touched so tenderly. It made you wonder, is the Hero as lonely as you are? 

   You glance over at your night stand, seeing the pretty little necklace sitting in its box. You're washed with guilt as you realize you forgot to wear it to coffee, knowing he must have wanted you to. You take it out of the box carefully before pulling it around your neck and hooking it into place. It fits like a choker, snug against your skin, but it feels good to have it so close.

   You're ripped from your musing when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. 

   Inside your house. 

   Your blood chills, hair stands up on the back of your neck and you rise from your bed slowly. You try to talk yourself down, kill the first nerves that consume your chest. It was probably a poorly balanced vase… except, you don't own any vases. It could have been a picture? Nope, not a picture, it was just glass… like a window breaking. 

   There's a gun in your office, but you're in the bedroom. You scan the room for something, anything that could be used for defense. Of course, nothing but a damn notebook. 

   The police, you should call the police. Your heart clenches when you hear the threatening sound of heavy footsteps falling down your hallway. 

   They're heading straight for your bedroom. 

   You lunge at the door, hand landing on the doorknob just as it begins to turn. Desperately, uselessly, you try to lock it. It's too late, though, it's already opening by the time your thumb lands on the lock. 

   You can hear your blood rushing when the door swings towards you, a large black boot planted on the other side to force it open. 

   "Sorry 'bout the window, sweetheart. I tried the front door, but it was locked." The intruder chuckles as he invades your bedroom. 

   You stumble back as you take in his sewn together form, a mess of black leather and scars. Wild, electric blue eyes devour your trembling form as you press yourself back into the wall. 

   "Oh, hon, you're shakin' like you're in danger. I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm gonna do the opposite." He stalks towards you, somehow moving in slow motion but with incredible speed all at the same time. 

   Your phone sits on your night stand, only feet away but all too unreachable. You're caged in by his arms as he towers over you, filling your nose with some horrid, smokey smell. 

   "P-please, you can have anything, j-just don't-" 

   Your words halt when a long, pale finger traces over your collar bone. 

   "Don't what? 'J-just don't' what?" He mocks you, eyes lit with a sadistic amusement. 

   Your heart rattles in your chest as tears prick your eyes, you can't fight him, he's huge. You don't have your gun. You don't have your phone. You're fucked. 

   "Cryin' already? What's the matter, doll?-" The hand traces your collar bone moves up to wrap around your throat, "Not a fan of villains?" 

   Your hands paw at his wrist, you will yourself to sputter something out, any kind of objection to whatever he has planned. You try to whimper out a 'stop', but when your mouth finally forms the word, the voice isn't yours, but it's familiar.

   It's low, clipped and dangerous as it barks out the warning. 

   Suneater. 

   Suddenly, as if he's being yanked to the heavens by the Gods, your assailant is torn away from you. A large, red tentacle captures him by the waist and throws him across the room. You collapse to the ground instantly, curling around your legs as you hear the muffled sounds of a violent fight. 

   You hide in your own little world, trembling and clenching yourself. You take one peak from between your arms, just to see Tamaki place the intruder in a chokehold before barking some profane threat at him. 

   The villain is smiling the whole time, he even winks at you. 

   "If I ever see you near her again, you won't walk away with your life." Tamaki snarls as the stranger breaks away from his hold.  

   "She's not worth the trouble." He laughs, raising one hand before sending brilliant blue flames blasting towards Tamaki. 

   You scream involuntarily, reaching out for the Hero as he jumps away from the flames. Once they're gone, the villain is gone as well. Like some cheap magician disappearing off stage. The room is almost entirely untouched by the burst of fire, at most, the tip of your comforter is singed. 

   The second the fire is gone, Tamaki is walking towards you urgently, pulling you to your feet so he can cradle your face. 

   "Are you ok? Did he touch you? What happened?" His inky eyes search your face frantically. 

   You don't answer, you just stutter, clinging to his hands until you can finally squeak out, "I'm ok." 

   His shoulders drop as he sighs, hands loosening their grip. His eyes flicker down to the necklace, his gaze softens when he sees how pretty it looks on you. 

   "Y-you… Do you like it?" He asks timidly, glancing up at you. 

    You breathe for a moment, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in attention. 

   "I love it." You say quietly, still trembling. 

   He just saved you, really saved you from a real villain who was planning God knows what, and he's worried about your necklace? 

   "It's so pr-pretty on you…" He reaches down to touch it, leaving one hand on your cheek. 

   You take the moment to breathe, remind yourself that you're safe, that you're with a hero now. You observe Tamaki's almost casual appearance, a dry fit shirt and simple tactical pants. It almost helps you relax, seeing him like so… at ease? 

   His fingers play with the pearl, deep eyes transfixed. Something nearly uncontrollable swells within his chest. It burns and aches and eats at him. You're so close, you're so warm, so soft. He could have you, he could just take you. 

   "Tamaki?" You prod gently, your own chest stirs, and something pulls you towards him.

   His eyes snap up to yours, and something shifts in the air. It feels sticky, heavy, too hard to breathe. His gorgeous form towers over you, pressing you back up against the wall as his eyes devour your trembling body. 

   "Thank you f-for saving me." You whisper.

   He nods earnestly, his breathing is shaking, his hands feel like they're holding back. 

   "Anything. Anything for you." 

   That line, that makes you ache.

   How long have you felt so lukewarm, so overlooked and forgotten? Too long, far too long. Now, with Tamaki looking down at you like you're priceless, you feel fiery, you feel seen and remembered. 

   Your hands grasp at his wrists, your eyes flick down to his parted lips. You're not sure what you want to happen next, but you want him as close as you can get him.

   "If you let me start, I will not stop." His voice drops and it makes your breath catch. 

   He feels it too, then. 

   Is it the high of what you've just gone through? Is it just your body trauma bonding with the man that just saved you? Or do you really, really want him so bad it hurts? 

   His tone is warning and his eyes are frantic. 

   "Please." Is the only thing that falls from your quivering lips. 

   Consequences be damned, motives especially be damned. You need him, and he needs you. That's enough explanation for tonight. 

   He consumes you much like the villains flames, his lips are on yours almost too fast, his hands are greedy as they hold your face to his. 

   While you feel similar to a lovesick girl getting kissed for the first time, Tamaki feels like a prisoner finally set free. He feels like a lion that was held in a cage and taunted with a piece of meat. He feels like the door has finally been opened, and he can finally sink his teeth in. 

   "I wanna feel you." He brings his mouth away from yours with much reluctance, leaving his forehead pressed against yours. 

   You flounder for a moment, with your mouth feeling dry and your limbs feeling heavy. 

   "Where?" You choke out, searching his face for any tell. 

   "God, everywhere." It's a broken request, said like a secret. 

   "Take it. Whatever you want." Your boldness surprises you both. 

   You're hooked on the exhilaration, you're craving more, you want to feel something. Even after just a walk home and a coffee date, you want to feel it with Tamaki. 

   "Don't give me that…" He shivers as he presses his body against yours, making it very evident how much of an affect you're having on him. 

   "I'll ruin you." He whimpers when you grind back against him, your hands tug at his shirt and you look up at him with wide eyes. 

   "Who said I don't want that?" 

   You both stand there frozen, waiting for the other to move, to prove that this isn't a dream. 

   "Fuck." 

   His hands descend from cradling your face so they can wrap around your neck with the most gentle grip. 

   He watches you intently, feels your breath quicken, cherishing the way you bite your lip when his fingers tighten slightly. 

   Internally, Tamaki is fighting the most challenging battle he's ever had to face. He's had to take on a wide variety of formidable enemies, but right now, nothing seems more formidable than having to hold himself back when he finally has you in his arms. 

   He wants to take and take and take, for as long as you'll let him… maybe even longer. 

   She's mine now.

   Something shifts in his gaze just then, making him look almost primal. It makes your chest feel frozen, makes it difficult to breathe or focus. 

   His hands shift around your neck, they feel almost… slippery? Their texture is different, their movement is more fluid. Then, you feel it, the distinct sensation of a suction cup latching against your skin. 

   Tentacles. He's made each of his fingers a tentacle.

   Your eyes stay locked on his, both of you in a heated trance as you watch how the other responds. 

   One slick tendril crawls up to latch onto your chin, he turns your head upwards and to the side with a thoughtful look. It's almost like he's sizing you up, appraising you. 

   After a thick moment of silence, he finally speaks. 

   "I'm going to make you cry." It's a depraved promise, beautifully whispered with no shame. 

   You stand there, held by him, captured by him. You're helplessly entranced, all rational thought is long gone as you reel over the implications of his statement. All you can know for sure, is you want more. 

    Despite every red flag, regardless of any common sense, you want more. 

   "I dare you." You say back to him, the desperation to feel anything other than mundane spurs you onward.

   He receives the words like it's a smack to the face, some shock evident in his eyes. He didn't take you for a brat, but he can certainly roll with it. 

   "You're gonna make this fun for me, aren't you?" He questions, his tentacles grip you tighter now, reminding you who has the high ground. 

   Mine. 

   The air shifts, something heavier takes over the mood, it settles in your ribs and wraps around your heart. 

   He guides you away from the wall, shepherding you around until your back is towards your bed. He starts walking you backwards until your knees buckle once they hit the mattress. 

   You sit there, gazing up at him, held still by his quirk, transfixed by the power he exudes as he towers over you. 

   "Has anyone ever had you before?" He asks, finally returning his hand to normal so he can cradle your cheek. 

   The question has your stomach burning with nerves. 

   No, nobody ever has. 

   You shake your head, looking down, cheeks burning as you try to hide your embarrassment. 

   His reaction shocks you immensely, his whole body shutters and he drops to his knees. His hands settle on your waist as he moves between your legs. 

   "Th-this is… all mine then?" He asks, he rubs his thumbs over the bottoms of your ribs affectionately. 

   His eyes are wide and reverent as he waits for your answer, looking like you're some anointed goddess. His eyes skate over every feature he can, and he cherishes each one. 

   Your confession nearly knocks the wind out of him, especially with how sweet you look, all blushing and embarrassed. It makes his need to rip you apart even stronger. 

   "Please...let me give you everything…" His hands tighten on you and you feel them shaking.

   You study him for a second, at a complete loss for words, he seems so… devoted. It pulls on your heart, clouds your mind and lights your body up. How could you possibly say no to him? How on earth could you turn someone away when they’re looking at you like you’re placed on an altar ready to be worshiped. 

   Carefully, like you’re trying not to frighten a beast, you reach out and touch his face. He moves into your touch like a lonely cat, desperate for affection and recognition. 

   “Please…” You breathe. 

   And that’s all it takes. 

   His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh rush as he moves forward like a leopard, lean and precise as he forces you onto your back. 

   Your blood rushes so quickly you swear you can hear it, your mouth goes dry as he stares you down. He’s suddenly less reverent, now he’s ravenous. A dangerous, carnivorous look dances in his dark eyes. His judgement is clouded just like yours, only it fuels him, while your state is much more terrified. Any spunk you had in you is thrown out the window as he leers over you.

   You shrink into the mattress as he hovers above you on all fours, heavy eyelids and parted lips giving him a nearly drugged look. 

   “When you say everything-” He whispers, moving so he can settle on his knees between your open legs, “Do you mean this too?” He drops his hips as he questions you, pressing something very hard into your thigh, something very intimidating. 

   He watches your eyes go wide, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you gasp after he rolls his hips. His arms cage you, a strong hand placed on either side of your head, the position makes you feel so pathetic, so helpless, but it gives you an incredible rush. 

   “Don’t look so scared, it won’t hurt.” He dips down to press his hot, open mouth against your neck, tongue lapping at your pulse. A dark chuckle leaves his chest, “Not much, at least.” 

   Then he’s definitely less reverent, he’s no longer worshipful, he’s a wicked, unleashed best. His hands are selfish as they remove your clothes, his mouth is voracious against your skin. He has you panting and twitching in seconds, musing at you when your reactions are particularly strong. 

   It’s when he snakes down your body, wetting your skin with his tongue, settling between your breasts so he can suck harshly at the heated skin, that you finally feel something break within you. You arch into his touch, fisting your hands in his raven hair, whimpering so beautifully for him as he works you up. 

   He knows what he’s doing, he’s skilled, well equipped for pulling you apart. He’s already descended into some debauched state of being, and he’s pulling you down with him. 

   “Nobody’s ever tasted this sweet little cunt before, have they?” He asks against your skin, latching his mouth back to the spot he’s focused on marking, but looking up at you with inquiring eyes. 

   You try to swallow, shake your head, do something, but all you can do is lay there naked and gasping.

   He laughs again, a wicked thing that leaves his chest like a wisp of wind. He slides a hand up your body, he flicks over your nipple with his thumb on the way up, pulling another whimper out of you. 

   His hand latches onto your jaw, then he shakes your head for you, doing what he knows you can’t. 

   “Oh baby…” He sighs, “You saved it for me?” He teases, hips grinding against you, the cloth of his pants creates a strange kind of friction against your clit, not unpleasant, but not pleasurable. Where the hell did the sweet, stuttering hero go? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks deviant… almost villainous.

   “Tama- please.” You shiver, not sure what you’re asking for, but certain that you need more. 

   “Good girl, talk to me.” His hand slinks down your throat before he rises to his knees. 

   Your eyes lock on the tightness of his pants, trying not to panic at the sheer size of the imprint he’s making on them. 

   His shirt is pulled over his head, messing his hair in the most handsome way, and the breath is ripped from your lungs. 

   He’s stunning, broad and strong looking. He’s all porcelain skin over well trained muscle. Built perfectly for the work he does. Built perfectly for ripping apart poor little girls like you. 

   “I liked the look you got when I had my tentacles on you.” He sighs, letting a hand fall to your bare stomach so he can trace lazy circles against you. 

   “Did you like that? Do you want me to use my tentacles to play with you?” He questions. 

   His voice is low, it’s rich and warm and dripping with seduction. Nothing like the tentative, wobbly tone he usually has. It rips the ground out from underneath you, leaves you panting and blinking like a brain dead fool as you gawk up at his prowling form. 

   “Just a yes or no, if you can manage it.” He smiles sweetly up at you, splaying his hand across your quaking abdomen. 

   You breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself, trying to catch up with what he’s said. 

   “Y-yes.” You whisper, barely audible, hardly heard over your labored breathing. 

   His other hand mirrors the one he has on you, sliding around to hold you by the waist, a gentle cage meant to establish dominance. 

   “Yes… what?” He prompts, pressing his thumbs down. 

   You falter then, your tongue feels heavy, your mind slows and you’re suddenly void of all vocabulary. Were you really really about to let one of the most well known pros wreck your body with his quirk? Were you actually laid out for him like this? You know so little of him, your only information gathered from small talk, but something about that had you buzzing. 

   You could be whoever you want to be, you don’t have to be the floundering virgin. You don’t have to be so damn shell shocked. 

   “Yes, D-daddy.” You test, hoping to God or whoever is listening that you got the right name. 

   By the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his grip tightens, the way his body tenses, you sure as hell did. 

   “That’s it.” He sighs, “-and what about you?” He wonders, his hold going gentle again. 

   You? What about you? 

   Tamaki watches you carefully, barely containing the raging storm inside him, barely holding back the carnal urge to turn every limb to a pretty purple tentacle and stuff you until you’re crying for mercy. 

   Not yet, don’t fuck this up. 

   “Princess? Darling?” He asks, lowering himself back down to kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his thick lashes. 

   “Whatever you want.” You answer. Your sweet, sacred submission makes him close his eyes and breathe in. 

   Hold it. Not. Yet.

   “You’re like an angel.” He breathes, making you shiver under the weight of the high praise. 

   He notices your reaction immediately, smiling to himself. 

   “So that’s it.” He presses a long kiss just under your belly button, bringing attention to how naked you are, and how naked he is not. 

   Your thighs squeeze together and your arms come up to cover your chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep it all out of view. 

   His hands are on your wrist and his body is crouched over yours again before you can blink. He pins your hands beside your head, looking down at you with some wild, unbridled kind of look in his eyes. 

   “You do not get to hide from me.” His shoulders flex as he pushes your wrists down into the mattress, earning a whine from you as the pressure starts to ache. 

   “You’re mine. That means I get all of you.” He bites the words off, but keeps his voice quiet. 

   You should be scared, crying even, but the only thing you feel is exhilaration, the ache between your legs and the fluttering of your heart as he overpowers you with just the look in his eyes and a few harsh words. 

   “Do you understand me?” He eases up on your wrists slightly, looking more stern, less unhinged. 

   “I-I do, I’m sorry.” You whimper out. 

   He considers you for a brief second, eyes growing softer as he watches the way your pretty lip trembles. 

   “It’s ok.” He releases your wrists and speaks gently, “You’re ok.” 

   The reassurances makes you dizzy, especially in contrast with how rough he just was. 

   "Hold still for me, angel." Then he’s back to mouthing at your skin.

   His teeth meet your collarbone and your hands reach for his messy hair. 

   “There?” He asks against you, a smile in his voice as he lets his teeth gather your skin again. The spot he finds makes you dizzy, you feel the heat spread across your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

   Tamaki is still stuck in his own chains, fighting against them as he focuses on the way you twitch for him, the way your body rolls when he bites harder. 

   So she likes it.

   Your body heats up, it's all so overwhelming. It's so different from anything you've ever felt, and you can't believe it's with him. 

    Then his kisses get more sloppy, his teeth are sharper against you. He leaves you shining with his spit, painted in blooming purple and red bruises as he begins his journey down your body. 

   "Da-addy." You sniffle when he bites into the underside of your breast. 

   It doesn't feel loving, it doesn't feel passionate, it just feels rough. 

   "Hush." He mumbles against you, "If you can't take this I might as well stop now." He looks up at you, challenging you. 

   "I can t-take it, I can." You breathe, nodding, looking at him with begging eyes, "Please, don't stop." 

   He honest to god growls against you. You couldn't possibly know what you do to him, how sweet your willingness sounds, how beautiful you look laid out for him. He knows he should take his time, and he resents that fact. He almost resents you for being so sweet and needy. With all the things he wants to do to you, he almost, almost, wishes you had at least some experience. This makes you his completely, though, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

   His hot mouth moves lower and lower until he's tonguing at your hip bone, pulling the skin into his mouth so he can work his teeth against it. He will mark you wherever he can, as long as you'll let him. 

   Your hips roll up against him, making him smirk at how needy you're acting. 

   "Ask for it." He whispers, hungry hands slide up the outsides of your thighs, "Ask for what you want." 

   His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, sending the breath from your lungs as he glares up at you. He lets his wet tongue loll out to give a teasing flick against the crux of your thigh. 

   You take a deep breath in and cling to the sheets for dear life, "Please, use your mouth on me." 

   He smiles so sweetly then, looking mildly amused. 

   "Here?" He goes back to that same spot, sucking and teasing, looking all too pleased with himself. 

   "Be specific, angel, tell me where you need me." 

   Tamaki knows for a fact that he didn't have to spend his time making you ask for things, he knows what you want, he knows how to give them to you. He could take whatever he needs, probably without much a fight from you, but what fun would that be? He would miss the pretty blush creeping across your skin, and the sweet little tears in your big eyes. No, he wouldn't be missing this, not for the world. 

    "I wanna feel your tongue, please, use your mouth on m-my cunt." You shiver, timid and uncertain about your phrasing. 

   It seems to do the trick though, because Tamaki's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. 

   He answers with a low moan before grabbing you by the insides of your thighs so he can spread you open. Once the air of the room hits you, you're made painfully aware of just how soaked you are. 

   It makes Tamaki look like a wild man, all blown out pupils blushing cheeks. 

   Almost in slow motion, he presses his tongue into the spot right above your clit, making you whine and buck against his mouth. 

   "Needy little thing." He says, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, "But I suppose I have teased enough." 

   Then he's on you, and the second his tongue meets your weak spot you know you're ruined. You know that not one person will ever hold a candle to Tamaki Amajiki. 

   He pulls away for only a second, just to whisper praises up to you, "Your cunt tastes like everything I've ever needed." 

   You huff at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do, heart soaring because of his confession.

   Then he dives back in, and he gets sloppy with it, setting a pace that feels so good it aches. The heat spreads through every limb, and settles somewhere deep in your chest. Everything tingles and burns, and breathing seems nearly impossible. 

   Internally, Tamaki is raging. He’s so close to losing it, he feels himself slipping, your taste spreads across his tongue is the culmination of months of watching and waiting and wanting. He wants to drown in you, he wants to rip you to shreds. No more watching you through windows, no more fucking his fist while he wishes with everything he has that it was your precious little pussy. He has you now, spread open and vulnerable. He knows he could shove your face into the pillows and let loose on you, stuff every hole with an invasive tentacle, the thought makes him even more feral, it makes him work even harder as he eats you. 

   Every roll of his tongue against your clit makes you throb and buck, which makes him growl and push you down against the mattress. He's loud and messy, slurping and moaning, letting it drip down his chin and his throat, never once letting up. 

   Your head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes drilled shut. You know damn well if you saw him, you wouldn't last another second. He builds you up until your thighs are trembling and you're a whiny little mess. 

   Perfect. 

   Suddenly, the texture of his tongue changes drastically. It's much more slippery, and much thicker. Your head shoots up, and you nearly sob at what you see. Tamaki, with his eyes wild and his jaw dropped, is letting a wicked looking tentacle hang from his mouth. 

   His quirk. 

   He smirks up at you as the tip of it writhes against your clit, flicking and circling as he watches the tears start to fall from your face. You can't possibly keep up, you didn't know anything could ever feel this good. 

   You watch the suction cups ripple as he moves the muscle against you, then he does the unthinkable. He latches one of them onto your clit. Your eyes cross and you bring a fist to your mouth so you can bite on it and muffle your screams. 

   He hates that. 

   With another rumbling growl, he lets his hands turn to tentacles as well. You watch helplessly as he snakes them up your arms, ripping your hand away from your mouth so he can pin both limbs to the bed. The tentacles are strong, surprisingly warm, and so damn slippery. 

   It's hard to tell if you're close to the edge, it's felt that way the whole time, everything feels so hot and tight and good. 

   He smiles as you cry out and thrash against the bed, full of admiration for the usefulness of his own quirk.

   “Too much! D-daddy, it’s too much.” You sniffle out as you feel a stinging feeling in your cunt, it’s not necessarily an unpleasant sting, but it’s too much.

   He ignores your objection, choosing to simply suck harder at your overstimulated sweet spot. He revels in your pitifully low threshold, planning to do so much worse to your poor, inexperienced body. 

   The ache in your cunt continues to push the tears from your eyes, and eventually, drool from your mouth. The suction cup works dutifully against your clit, making you feel so overwhelmed you don't know if you can cum. 

   Then you feel the prodding at your entrance. 

   Then you really scream. 

   Holding that one little suction cup to your clit, he snakes the tip of his tentacle into your dribbling hole. He furrows his dark brows and moans against you when he feels how tight you are, desperate to feel the velvety walls around his cock.

   "Holy fucking shit." You gasp. 

   He watches the dramatic rise and fall of your quaking chest, your baffled eyes trying to keep track of everything happening to your body, and he swears he falls even more in love. 

   You're so willing, so compliant, so at his mercy. 

   He crooks the tip of the tentacle towards himself just a bit, and it's like you've been struck by lightning. You cum hard, harder than you ever have. You're a mess of twitching limbs, shivering as your cunt clenches so hard your feel it in your fucking chest. You sob into the air, broken and tearful as he works you through it. 

   You feel the hold on your arms tighten as your body arches away from the mattress. As you feel every inch of you ignite, you know that you're ruined for everyone else. 

   As soon as you lower yourself so you're flat to the mattress, the tentacles around your arms slip away and turn back into his hands. 

   The one between your legs still plays with you a little bit, prodding at your clit, lapping up your mess. Tamaki laughs as you jump and twitch, whimpering and gasping as he milks your body for every after shock you can give him. 

   You watch him pull the tentacle back into his mouth, flicking it over his lips to gather your release before disappearing into his mouth. You watch his eyes flutter shut, you watch him shiver and you hear the sweetest little moan in the back of his throat. 

   “You’re pretty when you cry.” He mumbles, looking up at you with the most tender look in his eyes. It’s a harsh contrast with all the cum dripping down his chin. 

   “You move a lot, too. It’s fun.” He states, almost like some kind of twisted review, “I don’t mind holding you down like that.” 

   The drop in the tone of his voice makes a chill creep up your spine. 

   “In fact…” He lifts himself up so he can start to crawl up your body, “I really, really enjoyed it.”

   You gasp for words, wind stolen from your lungs as he presses his messy mouth against your sternum. 

   “Something tells me you did too.” He whispers. 

   Your voice is finally found, somewhere deep in your chest, hidden and nearly forgotten, “What makes you say that?” You ask timidly. 

   He pulls his head up to look down at you with a confident smirk, “The mess you made.” 

   To prove his point, he swipes two fingers through your folds, gathering your creamy release before holding it up to the light. He looks so damn proud, like he’s showing off. 

   “Messy girl.” He smiles, as you watch him bring his coated fingers to his lips, sucking the sin off with a greedy pop from his lips. 

   “Oh, how selfish of me.” He sighs before grabbing you by the chin, “I should share.” 

   He pulls your mouth open then slowly leans over you so he can push the mess back through his lips. You oblige like a robot, stunned by the debauchery, letting him guide you through this act. He lets it fall from his lips slowly, creating a long string from his mouth to yours. The second it hits your tongue, something clicks for you. Something dark and smokey settles in your gut, something all consuming and blinding. It rids you of boundaries and reservations, it fills you with nothing but the man in front of you. 

   He watches you with a pointed gaze, shutting your jaw for you so you can swallow what he gave you. 

   “What do you say?” He asks. 

   You feel the burn in your chest, the embers in your skin, “More, please.” 

   “Fucking hell," The words tumble out as a breath mostly, "You want more?" He questions, grabbing you by the wrist so he can place your palm just above the waist of his pants. 

   You nod up at him, vision blurred by the heat of his skin against your palm. 

   "Then take it." He leans down to say it, biting off the words. 

   A challenge. 

   You can't possibly disappoint him, you can't possibly leave him wanting. Take it? How are you supposed to take it? 

   In a wild moment of confidence, mostly your body moving without the permission of your mind, you wrap your legs around his lean hips so you can flip him onto his back. 

   Your eyes lock the second you feel him pressing against you, hard and thick, and terribly intimidating in length. 

   He watches you for a moment, then hastily grabs you by the back of the neck so he can pull you down for another kiss. It's hot and needy, full of wicked want and unabashed selfishness. It tickles your ribs, creeps up your neck, and secures itself greedily around all of your common sense. 

   Tamaki had no intentions of letting you take anything, it's a game to him. He'll let you have your moment, let you feel like you have the reigns, but he'll take it right back. His has you under control, he vows that he always will.

   Your chest flutters with a clawing, aching feeling. 

   More more more. 

   "Fuck me." It's a prayer, whimpered against his delicate lips, "Please, fuck me." You dig your hands into his hair, cherishing the sweet noises they leave him as you beg. 

   Under control.

   "Tell me you need it." He sighs, answering your prayer by sending his hands down to work urgently at his belt. 

   "Tell me you need me." 

   You bring your face back from his just enough to look into his dark eyes, and you see tears welling in them. 

   He needs to feel needed.

   "Please, I need it, I need you, Suneater." 

   Everything freezes for a brief second, the air thickens and his eyes darken as you wait with a held breath for his next move. 

   Then, everything is flying around you. You feel the bite of fingertips against your waist, your stomach hits the mattress, possibly the sound of his pants being taken off. Your senses are dulled by the raging swirl of emotions beating inside you as your hips are lifted up, and a hand shoves your face into the pillow. 

   "Who's your hero?" His voice is rough, his hand gathers your hair and cranks your head to the side, "Who is your fucking hero?" He's barking the words out now, harsh and demanding. 

   And holy hell does it get you going. 

   "You are! You're my hero, Suneater." You cry out, craning your neck to look at him. 

   You expected furrowed brows, a straight mouth and furious eyes. What you're met with is nothing of the sort. A soft pink blush across his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, tears wetting his cheek, and a quivering lip. 

   With your eyes on him, he makes a show of sliding his hand down his front so he can grab at his length. He lets it fall against your ass, heavy and painfully hard. 

   "Don't forget that." He says simply, sliding his thick head down through your slicked lips. 

   The contact makes you both shudder deep in your souls. 

   "Daddy, please." Your voice is pitiful as you fist the sheets and press back against him. 

   "So slutty." He muses, releasing your hair so he can run his nails down your back, "Poor thing, never been fucked, needs it so bad, doesn't she?" 

   You nod fervently and fuss as he presses his head against your tight hole. You tense and shiver, not at all prepared for what's to come. 

   "I need it, I need you, please please please." You have one thought now, no reservations, you need him. 

   "I'm gonna ruin this little cunt." He says, a warning tone in his voice. 

   The hand that was tracing your spine suddenly feels very cold and wet. 

   His damn quirk. 

   He takes his time, letting the thick tentacle slither around your waist. It wraps around you twice, teasing you with the pops of the suction cups, leaving pretty purple circles all over your abdomen. 

   He lifts you easily, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest. 

   "Ruin it, please, it's yours, I'm yours." You sniffle, looking down at your trapped position. 

   With a low, menacing growl, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and his cock into your heat. 

   Tamaki holds his breath, willing himself not to fill you up right this second. You're too damn tight, so warm and velvety. You're so perfect, and so completely his. 

   You sob into the air, hands reaching out to hold the headboard as you feel like you're being ripped apart. 

   "Oh don't scream, Angel, people might think something's wrong." His voice is shaking now, and the hold on your waist tightens. 

   You focus on relaxing, letting your walls lose their tension, but it's all fruitless. He's too big, he fills you too well, and all you can do is take it. 

   "Here, let me give that mouth something to do." 

   His other hand comes around to hold your throat, turning each finger into a tentacle again. It leaves you reeling and gasping as he presses further into you, wrapping what would be his middle finger around your throat. He wraps it around twice, like he did with your waist. The appendage comes up to rest its tip on your bottom lip. 

   The sensation makes you dizzy, especially when it finally snakes into your panting mouth. It doesn't really taste like anything, it just feels wet and slick, the texture of the suction cups is the strangest thing about it. He rocks his hips so gently, squeezing you tighter everywhere he's holding you. 

   You don't feel like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel like a moth caught in a spider's web. All tangled up, not willing to fight to escape, not even wanting to. 

   "You're so damn tight." He stutters out, pressing his hips flush against your own. 

   You cry out and gag against the tentacle stuffing your mouth, digging your nails into the headboard as he chuckles behind you. 

   "You're such a pretty little mess for me. Your cunt's already dripping." 

   You don't doubt it, it has to be with how badly your core aches around him as he stretches you. 

   Your thighs start to tremble as you wait for him to move, sniffling as the tears fall from your eyes and the drool spills from your lips. 

   A pretty little mess indeed. 

   Slowly, he drags his hips back with a hiss before pushing back in. He takes his time with it, building an agonizing pace that offers you no release. There's only the pressure, only your clit screaming for attention, only the maddening tease of his head against your sweet spot with every torturous push in. 

   "Fuck angel, I gotta break this pussy in, don't I?" His words pull another pitiful moan from you, nodding and whining is all you're capable of. 

   His picks up speed just enough to make you tense even more, still painful, still mind numbing. 

   "You look so fucking pretty on the end of my cock." 

   His words pour over you like hot wax, heating you up, making you drip. The heat seeps deep into your skin, making you squirm and clench. 

   He speeds his thrusting up slightly, then more, and more, and more, until you’re shrieking and choking against the tentacle stuffing your mouth. Your hands fly up to claw at it, wanting to tell him how it feels, wanting to thank him for the way he’s fucking you. 

   It’s still painful, each thrust splits you open with a sting, but it’s so damn good. The sharp stretching is absolutely spectacular, and it sends your brain into somewhere dark and smokey, it leaves you with a wide open feeling in your chest. It leaves you wanting more. 

   “What’s the matter, sweet thing?” He taunts, “Tell me about it, then, how’s Daddy make you feel?” He turns each tentacle back into a finger slowly, pulling out of your mouth, leaving you a gasping mess. 

   Through spit and tears, you praise him, words spewing out between moans as your body jolts from each punishing snap of his hips. 

   “So fucking good! You make me feel so good!” You cry, clinging to his forearm as he brings you closer to his chest. 

   The tentacle around your waist starts to slither down your stomach, “This isn’t even half of what I’m capable of doing to you,” The tip of it gives the hood of your clit a teasing flick, “-and you’re already such a slut for me.” His chuckle is dark and full as the tip of his skilled tentacle zeros in on your sweet spot, rubbing and wriggling against it until you’re screaming. 

   “Say it. Say you’re my little slut.” His words are a harsh demand against your ear, leaving no room for disobedience. 

   “I- f-fuck- I can’t! I ca-an’t!” You sob, not able to catch your breath between thrusts. 

   Tamaki eats that right up, swelling with pride as he fucks you speechless, delirious with the fact that he finally has your cunt gripping his cock. 

   Before he can bark another order at you, you finally pull the words out of your closing throat, "I'm your slut," You gasp as drool rolls down your chin, "I'm your little slut." 

   He throws his head back and throws everything he has into every thrust, his moans are obscene, high pitched and broken as he feels how hard you squeeze him when he speeds up the tip of his tentacle against your clit. 

   "Give it to me, I feel that greedy cunt tryin' to milk me, give me that fuckin cum." He huffs against your ear. Your entire body seizes up, shaking violently as ribbons of pleasure shoot through you. You pulse around Tamaki almost violently, earning some very rough sounding moans from him as he works you through it. 

   Your orgasm lasts for what feels like an eternity, you shiver with every throb of your walls. It possesses that same almost painful pleasure, and it's everything you've ever wanted. At some point, the tentacle around your waist turns to a hand, still absentmindedly rubbing you as you come down. 

   He lets your torso fall forward, leaving you bent over and exposed for him. His hands smooth over your ass, and you realize he's still so fucking hard. 

   "Can you take more, angel?"

   You nod against the tear soaked pillow you've pressed your face into, not sure that you even can, but willing to try. 

   "Good," He bends down to press kisses into your spine as he pulls out, "'Cause you're going to." 

   He pulls out, almost full of regret, wanting to live the rest of his life buried inside you.

   Now he can have some fun, mind cleared slightly by finally feeling you come undone around him. He's still hazy, still slightly frenzied, but less ravenous, less of a starved man waiting for his meal, more of a well fed man waiting for desert. 

   His hands hold your waist gently so he can guide you onto your back. You oblige, more than willing to let him have his way. 

   You finally get a good look at him, and you're astounded by just how pretty his dick looks. All pale and pink, swollen and shiny, it makes you dizzy with admiration. 

   "You're terribly beautiful." He whispers, cradling your waist so he can worship your stomach with soft kisses, "I don't believe you're even real." 

   Sweetness oozes through your tingling limbs, pouring over you like warm honey. His tender mouth brings you back down, soothes you into a state of catharsis. Your body settles, but your heart picks back up when his lips are on your hips. 

   Your eyes meet his, and you share the sentiment that he just might not be real. He pears up at you through a mess of indigo hair, eyes full of what you can only describe as devotion. 

   He explores your body with his hands, dipping his thumbs into every crook he can, palming handfuls of your plush thighs. He seems to have a soft spot for your hips though, pulling at your love handles, letting his breath speed up each time until he's panting against you. 

   With every pull of his hands, you bend for him, push into him, work with him. You both find a rhythm, falling into an easy dance of grabbing and needing. 

   "I want to keep you." He breathes, placing a hand on either side of your waist so he can lift himself over you, "I want to have you." 

   He gathers your legs while he speaks, hooking his hands under your knees so he can fold you up. 

   "You have me." You whisper, reaching out to lay your fingers on the sides of his ribs. 

   You watch his skin twitch under your touch, you watch his eyebrows sag into an almost heartbroken look. 

   He looks down between your bodies, quivering when he sees his heavy cock resting against your stomach. He feels so incredibly proud of you in that moment, for taking him so well, and asking for more. 

   She's mine. She said I have her. 

   The concept brings another wave of primal desire crashing down on his self control. 

   His fingers dig into your skin, biting at the flesh, spreading you open for him as he puts his weight on your legs. 

   You clench in anticipation, teased by the pressure of his hot length resting against you. 

   "I can take it." You say quietly, sliding your hands up his lean body so you can lace them into his inky hair. 

   He melts into your touch, stunned by your gorgeous submission. 

   "Fuck, angel." His words are shattered as they fall from his lips. 

   You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his weeping tip. He trembles and hiccups as you push him down so he's lined up with where you need him. 

   "Please, I want all of it." m. 

   “Careful.” He pants, looking down at you with a warning in his eyes. 

   It doesn’t create hesitation in you though, only curiosity. 

   “We’re being careful now?” You tease, sliding him up and down your slit. 

   “You little devil.” He hisses, grabbing your wrist harshly, “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” 

   You freeze and blink up at him, once again shocked by his quick change in temperament. 

   “You wanna act like a tease now?” He questions, bringing your hand up so he can press it into the mattress with his. 

   “Did you find yourself a cute little attitude?” His voice drips with venom, it bites at your insides and melts your skin. 

   “That’s ok, angel.” He lets your hand go so he can press on the backs of your thighs again, successfully folding you completely in half, “I’ll fuck it out of you.” 

   Before you can breathe, blink, or respond, he’s splitting you open with a brutal pace. He laughs deep in his chest when you cry out, he mocks you when your hands fly to his abs in an attempt to slow his assault. A wicked smile spreads across his pretty face when tears stain your flushed cheeks once again. 

   “Cryin’ again so soon? Is it too much, baby? You need Daddy to slow down?” He’s testing you, only thrusting harder as he taunts you for your sobbing and moaning. 

   “No!” You gasp between tears, “Don’t stop, please, fuck me like that.” 

   “That’s my girl.” 

   His thrusts are ruthless, sharp, unforgiving. He rocks your body and the bed with each plunge in, headboard crashing against the wall. Each drive into you is enchanting, it teaches you something new, opens new doors, shows you a new, brilliant world of depravity. The way the pleasure shoots all the way up your spine with every drag of his cock, it’s something you want to feel until you die, you’d even be happy if this is the way you die. 

   You watch him disappear inside of you over and over, pulling out just as quick, covered in slick and sin. Tamaki is in his own feral world, watching your lovely face crumble and pout as he fills you. His hands are angry against the back of your thighs, nails digging in hard enough to bring little pearls of scarlet to the surface. 

   When you start to whine from the sting, he flashes you a lazy smile before stuffing his fingers into your mouth. He presses the blood covered fingertips into your tongue just enough to make drool spill from the sides of your mouth. 

   “Hush, you’ll learn to love it.”

   His smile turns wolfish when he watches your eyes roll back. It’s all so black-hearted, it’s everything you’ve kept yourself from, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

   You both throb and cry then, your bodies smack as they meet, obscene and wet as you chase your undoing. Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he curses himself for it. He doesn’t want to stop, especially when you wince so sweetly when his thrusts are a little too deep. He wants to watch you suck his fingers forever, crying against his palm as he turns you into his perfect little slut. 

   “You’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you, angel? You owe me that, I saved your life after all.” He slides his fingers from your mouth, dragging your spit down your chin before grabbing you by the throat, “Answer if you can, I know it must be hard to speak when you’re getting fucked this good.” 

   His words drown you in lust, your hands claw at his back, painting angry red lines down the pretty porcelain canvas, “Take it! Fuck- Take it, Suneater, take it all.” 

   It’s not a demand, it’s a plea, it’s a craving formed deep within your freshly corrupted heart. 

   Your begging pulls desperate, whiny sounds from him. With his eyes screwed shut he lets the hand on your thigh manifest the tentacles in place of his fingers. He throws all of his energy into that, trying to stall the twitching of his dick as your hot insides massage him with their relentless pulsing.   

   “Are you sure about that?” He tests, letting the tentacles snake around your thigh before slithering down to where your bodies meet. 

   Immediately, one starts flicking at your clit, making your back go rigid as he grins down at his good work. 

   You wail his name, nails biting at his skin even more but he pays no mind. He has a mission, he’s going to take all of it. 

   He focuses on making his tentacles grow, two long enough to reach up your body and tug at your nipples, and one other snaking down through the mess you’re making to prod at your asshole. Your eyes widen with shock as your body ignites, it’s too much, it’s all too much. Every sensation is heightened, every poke and flick and thrust sends shards of pleasure flying through you, piercing you from every direction. 

   You let yourself cry completely then, throwing your head against Tamaki’s collar bone before sobbing into his chest. You know you’re cumming, you can feel it somewhere amongst all the other stimulation, but it’s nearly drowned out, and Tamaki is still fucking you just as hard as he was when this all started. 

   “More, you have more for me, I fucking know it.” He huffs as he finally pushes into your ass with the tentacle. 

   The ones on your nipples latch on with their suction cups as he fills you more and more. 

   “Give it to me, angel, give it all to your hero.” 

   That’s the final push, the last thing you need to send you into the most frenzied orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your vision goes white as your body convulses, ripped apart by the flames of euphoria that turn everything you’ve ever known to ash. Somewhere in the distance you hear Tamaki praising you, telling you how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, how good you are for him. 

   It’s lost in the fray, though, all blurring together as you shake violently around him. The only thing that brings you back slightly, is the break in his voice when he sobs, “I’m gonna stuff that little cunt with my cum, I’m gonna make you mine.”

   Your hand is at the back of his neck instantly, pulling him down for a messy, aimless kiss. His moans spill into your mouth as his hips falter, turning to slow, stuttering thrusts as he starts to pump his release deep into you. 

   “I’m yours - I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.” You chant it against his lips as his tears fall to your cheeks, mixing with your own as you both shatter for each other.

   Coming back down isn't easy at all. It's slow and needy, your hands still pulling at whatever skin they can grab, hips rolling against each other, trying with everything you both have to prolong that rapturous feeling. 

   Frantically, painfully, he pulls himself out of you. He slides his hot mouth down your body, nipping and sucking as he descends to your messy cunt. He spreads your legs wide so he can bury his face between them. He teases your clit briefly, but moves quickly to press his open mouth against your hole.

   Your skin boils as you watch the nasty show. His eyes cross sinfully and flutter shut as he tongue at your well used pussy. When he pulls back, his chin is covered in some wretched mixture of your combined releases. He moves back up your body like an animal stalking its prey.

   He grabs your jaw and you open so willingly. His mouth is on yours instantly, pushing the warm liquid onto your tongue with his own. It’s a spunky, intense flavor, almost overwhelming as he spreads it around your mouth. It creates a dark, blurry feeling in your chest, though. It makes you feel alive, it makes you want more.

   He pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva and sin connecting your lips as he pants down at you. 

   “You’re such a good little girl.” 

   His lips are everywhere, pressing against your cheekbones, your nose, your forehead. His hands return to normal so he can cradle your face. You both lay there, still joined, catching your breath. 

   "Angel?" 

   The tenderness in his voice pulls you back down to earth, and when you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in his. It’s a harsh but marvelous contrast with the sharp edges of his previous behavior.

   "Does anything h-hurt?" He asks timidly. 

   The stutter is back, the anxious look in his eyes, the restlessness in his hands. 

   You reach out to hold his face like he's holding yours, "Tamaki, no, nothing hurts. You made me feel so good." 

   You don't ever want to be a source of hesitation for him again. You want to make it better. He's brilliant, he's brave, he saved your damn life. He doesn't need to be so scared around you. 

   "You're my hero, Suneater." You pull him down for a soft, intimate kiss. 

   He breathes out against you, more of his tears wet your cheeks but you don't mind. 

   He's allowed to feel this, he earned this. 

   When the kiss breaks he searches your face, waiting for you to laugh at him, to push him off, to change your mind. 

   You don't, though. 

   You stay there with him, loving him and full of him. 

   "And you're mine." 

   You both settle there, kissing skin that hasn't been kissed before, finding ways to make each other fall even more. 

   Tamaki tells himself he did the right thing. You don't ever have to know why Dabi chose your house to break into. You don't ever need to be told that he spent endless nights watching you from the window, because he has you know. 

   It would be wrong of him to tell you, you wouldn't understand it. It would break your heart and ruin everything. Then, it would get messy. You might try to run away, and that would mean he'd have to keep you in different ways. 

   He shakes the thoughts from his head. He can keep you like this, laid out and blushing for him, so soft and beautiful. 

   You belong to him now, and that's all that there is. 

   "Can I take care of you?” He asks softly, playing with the necklace he gave you as he gives you a shy glance. 

   “You just did.” You let yourself laugh a little as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

   “No, not like that.” He smiles softly, dipping down to kiss your neck so softly you almost can’t feel it, “Like this.” 

   He presses his lips against a mark you didn’t know he made, lingering for a moment as his eyes flutter shut. 

   “These say that you’re mine.” His thumb traces over one of the circular bruises on your ribs, “They say you have someone protecting you.”

   The prospect makes your heart soar. He’s right, belonging to him means you’ll always be safe, you’ll always have somebody willing to fight for you, maybe even somebody willing to stay with you. 

   “This says that you belong to me.” He loops a finger around the delicate pearl on your necklace, pulling gently, not enough to make you go anywhere, but enough to make you feel the metal tug against the back of your neck. 

   ‘You do belong to me, don’t you.” He asks, a wild, fearful look in his eyes. 

   You do, you just told him so, you just cried to him and vowed that you were his just moments ago. 

   “I do, I belong to you, I swear.” You reassure him, pulling a deep sigh from his chest. 

   You don’t understand the way he aches for you, the way he’s addicted to you. He was already hooked, from just glances and flighty touches. Now, having felt your soft skin, the tuck of your waist, having seen you cry and heard you call his name, he’s willing to admit his obsession. 

   He does take care of you, he does it beautifully. He carries you to the bathroom where he sets you on the edge of the tub. He fills it with warm, soapy water before picking you up bridal style so he can settle into the water with you in his lap. 

   Neither of you bother to turn a light on, content with the glow of the moon shining through the skylight. Tamaki paints your shoulders with soft kisses as he rubs soothing circles into your back. He takes his sweet time, wiping away the sweat and the tears, mindful of the tender spots on the back of your thighs. 

   “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, “An angel, nothing less.” 

   You melt into him, lost in his praise, blinded by his devotion as well as your own. 

   Tamaki is just as lost, if not more, only becoming more possessive with every gentle touch, with every whispered adoration. 

   This is how it’s meant to be, and you don’t ever need to know how it all fell into place. He did the right thing, after all. This isn’t a problem, he’s in love. He’s in love and now he has you. 

   He intends on keeping it that way.

[idy-ll-ique]

Shady.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Requested: Nope

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Age gap, One (1) Non-Consensual Kiss, mention of violence, blood, death.

Summary: Y/N and her friends decide to visit the new bar that opened in their city. Unfortunately, things don't work out well.

Author's Note: I didn't post something for a long time so here y'all go. I don't really know what I've written but I'm still putting this up lmfao

---

Y/N POV:

"Are you sure we should be here? This place looks kinda shady," I muttered, clutching my best friend's t-shirt from behind as we walked into the dimly lit bar. He scoffed as the other two guys behind me sighed.

"Loosen up, sweetheart! You'll have fun here! Look, they're playing songs and the bar looks pretty loaded," Trystan chuckled. Jack, who stood in front of me, nodded. Shawn patted me on the back, grinning. The four of us were out for a few drinks: the boys told me there was a new bar in town and we were here to check it out.

We walked up to the bar and sat down in front of the bartender. "Four beers, please," Jack ordered and the bartender nodded. I glanced around the room, one of my hands still on Trystan's thigh. "Will you chill? There's nothing to be afraid of here!" Trystan sighed loudly.

"Fine," I mumbled, suddenly noticing someone's eyes on me. He was a very handsome man, I decided. Sitting at a booth alone, he was drinking wine. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the drink. I looked away from him, staring was rude. I joked around with my friends as we had our mugs of beer.

I was laughing at a hilarious joke Shawn cracked when a gunshot echoed around the room. I screamed, shut my eyes and covered my ears.

"You three! Step aside!" I opened my eyes to see a man standing in front of me, a smirk on his face. I recognized him immediately. Three of his goons took hold of Jack, Trystan and Shawn, pulling them out of their seats. They held guns to my friends' heads. "Mr Dalton, please, spare them—"

"You don't tell me what to do and what not to do, sweetheart," he drawled uninterestedly, raising an eyebrow at me. I looked around the room, cringing a bit when I noticed that I was the only girl around. Everyone, including the man who was looking at me before, were staring at me.

They all had shocked expressions on their faces, except that handsome man. He looked like he would burst out in anger any second now. "What do you want?" I whispered and my breath hitched as Dalton's hand reached forward.

He was about to caress my cheeks when the handsome man jumped to his feet, flipping the table in front of him. He took out a gun and pointed it at Rogue Dalton, the mobster boss who was currently… ahem… touching me. That man's jaw was clenched hard. "Ah, Stan. Long time no see, my friend," Dalton said with faux affection, smiling at Stan.

"Leave the girl alone," Stan growled, glaring at Dalton. "Oh, you wanna have a night with her, too? We can arrange for tomorrow," Dalton snorted. I scrunched my nose.

A night with Dalton? Did he mean sex? Hard pass, he had a reputation of being a womanizer. "Let her go, I'm warning you!" Stan yelled. "Or what? Don't tell me you know this girl. Wittle Sebastian Stan has a girlfriend? How cute," Dalton crooned and I cringed at his tone.

Ah, so the name of the man who was currently defending me was Sebastian Stan. I had to say, it was a nice name. At least he was on my side, I couldn't believe I thought he was a creep. How did Rogue Dalton know him? They talked as though they were rivals. I think Sebastian belonged to a mob, too.

Dalton's hand reached out and grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "You don't have a choice in this, baby girl, you're coming with me. I'm not letting a pretty bird like you escape," he hissed in my face, forcibly pressing his lips to mine.

I screamed in my throat, my eyes going wide. I kept my lips sealed tightly, not allowing his tongue entry in my mouth. "Oh, you wanna play hard to get, huh? I see how it is. Whatever you wish, ma'am." He pulled away and raised his other hand, smacking me across the face.

Tears brimmed my eyes, it hurt so much. "Y/N—" Shawn tried yelling but was silenced by the man holding him at gunpoint. I glanced at Sebastian with wide, scared eyes, silently begging him to do something about Dalton.

Sebastian was glaring at Dalton, seething. I could see his chest heaving in the dim bar. "Evans!" he yelled all of a sudden, startling me. Now who was Evans? A few seconds later, at least 15 other people entered the bar. Wait, did Sebastian run his own mob?

Dalton's men were greatly outnumbered by Sebastian's. "Fire!" Sebastian screamed and his men started shooting at Dalton and his goons. I screeched, hoping I wouldn't get hit by a bullet.

As soon as Dalton let go of me, I jumped off the high-stool. Sebastian beckoned me over and I ran to him. I threw my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck. "You're fine, I got you," he whispered to me, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. He turned around, shielding me from the bullets that flew across the room.

He rubbed my back to help even out my breathing. I stayed how I was until the bar went quiet. "It's okay to look."

I slightly pulled away from Sebastian and peeked over his shoulder. Rogue Dalton was lying on the floor, dead. So were all his men. Shawn, Jack and Trystan were fine, hiding under a table. "Thank you," I told Sebastian gratefully. He gave me a soft smile. "No worries. I'm glad you're safe."

I took a few steps away from Sebastian, nodding at him. I walked over to my friends as they came out of hiding. "Thank you, Mr Stan, for saving our friend," Jack said thankfully. "It's quite alright, really. I'm glad I could help. How are you guys? Everything okay?" Sebastian asked worriedly.

Trystan slowly took his hand off his forearm and I saw blood. "You were shot? Come to my place, I'll have you fixed in no time," Sebastian sighed and we walked out of the bar. "Excuse me, don't mind me asking, but… are you a mobster boss, too?" I asked Sebastian curiously.

"I am, yes. Most of the time I'm in Romania, but I got bored. I came here and met Dalton. We didn't get along, as you'd have witnessed," he replied. "Now what, though? We leave the dead bodies as they are in the bar?" Jack asked.

"Why not?" one of Sebastian's friends, a handsome, dark skinned man grinned at us. "Oh, yeah, by the way, these two are my friends, Anthony Mackie and Chris Evans. I don't know your names," Sebastian chuckled. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N, these three are my friends, Jack, Trystan and Shawn. We go to college together," I smiled.

"Good, what are you studying?" The seven of us got into Sebastian's 7-seater car. Chris drove, Anthony sat next to him. Sebastian, Trystan and I sat in the middle while Jack and Shawn sat behind us. I was sitting between Sebastian and Trystan.

Sebastian put his arm on the backrest, around my shoulders. Unconsciously, I shifted closer to him. I trusted Sebastian a lot, he saved me from molestation. "We're all studying mechanical engineering," Jack grinned.

"Yeah, there aren't many girls in our batch. Y/N was quite lonely all the time, so we made friends with her. It's been 3 years," Trystan chuckled weakly. "That is sweet of you guys. I assume you're the same age?" Anthony chortled. "Yeah, we're all 26," Shawn nodded.

We soon reached Sebastian's place and got out of the car. My jaw dropped— that mansion was huge. "Whoa, you live here?" Jack gasped loudly. "I do, yes. Come in, I'll take you to the infirmary." Sebastian and Trystan walked towards the infirmary. Jack and Shawn decided to go with them but I stayed back with Anthony and Chris.

"May we show you to the sitting room, o fair lady?" Chris joked, holding his hand out. "Certainly, o kind sir," I laughed, taking his hand. They took me to the sitting room of the mansion. I sat on one of the couches while Anthony told someone to make hot chocolate for me.

Hot chocolate sounded really good right now, so I didn't argue. "Um, is he always this friendly, Sebastian?" I asked the two men. They glanced at each other.

"Not really, no. He's usually very intimidating. I don't know what happened to him. It's fun to see him like this, caring and friendly. This might be the first time he's acting so nice," Chris explained. Wow, I got lucky, I guess. "That's awesome. He seems young, too." I bit my lip, blushing softly.

"Oh, he's 38. I think you'd make a pretty good couple," Anthony snorted. "What makes you think he'd be interested in dating me?" I huffed, running a hand through my hair. "Literally our previous conversation. His behavior changed when you were in danger, Y/N."

He got me there.

---

Sebastian POV:

"So, uh, what's Y/N like? What does she enjoy doing?"

Jack and Shawn laughed, startling me. "I knew that question would come up! We give you our blessings, you'd make a brilliant couple. Just be yourself, dude and show her affection. She likes affection. Trust me," Jack grinned.

I smiled softly as Trystan sat up, his arm wrapped in a bandage. "Why don't you guys stay the night? I can have 2 rooms prepared, one for Y/N and the other for you three," I expressed suddenly.

"That would be great, thank you very much! You're too kind for a mobster boss," Shawn smiled. "Y/N has my heart and you three are her best friends, this is the least I can do for you," I chuckled, running a hand through my hair. We walked out of the infirmary and I decided to take them to the sitting room.

When we were close to the room, I could hear boisterous laughter coming from inside. "I was so relieved when I found out that I passed my test. I didn't even study!" Anthony and Chris were doubled over, clutching their stomachs, tears in their eyes. Y/N was giggling to herself, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands.

My eyes lit up when I noticed that the mug she was holding said #1 Mobster. It was a gag gift from Chris, but I kept it because I loved it so much. Here was a girl I liked, drinking hot chocolate from my mug, sitting on the couch in my home. That scene warmed my heart.

I walked into the room and they all looked at me. "Seb, hey," Mackie smiled. I nodded in acknowledgement. "Are you doing okay, Y/N?" I asked her softly, sitting next to her. "Yes. This was really good," she chuckled, glancing at the mug.

I put my arm around her shoulders and smirked slightly when I saw the blush that arose on her cheeks. She snuggled closer to me, laying her head on my shoulder. I took the empty mug from her hands and kept it aside. For a few minutes silence fell between us; I stared at Y/N's face while she looked down at her lap.

I was about to say something when I suddenly noticed the silence in the room. I took my eyes off Y/N and looked around. There was no one else in the room except for us. "Where did everyone go?" Y/N asked me quietly. "To sleep, I guess. It's late, you should go, too." Y/N whined, clutching my t-shirt.

"My head hurts and I'm tired," she sniffled. I gathered her up in my arms, pressing a long kiss to her forehead. By now, the both of us were aware that we obviously had feelings for each other. We weren't fools. "I'll take you to your room," I whispered in her ear. I carried her bridal style when she nodded, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

Y/N fell asleep on our way to her room, which I found extremely endearing.

"Y/N, wake up," I whispered as I put her down on the bed. She yawned and blinked her eyes open. "Hm?" she moaned. "Wear this." I opened the wardrobe in the room and took out my t-shirt, handing it to her. I kept my extra clothes in this room. The t-shirt was extremely loose and soft.

"Thank y—" Before she could finish the sentence, I strode over to her and cupped her cheeks, intensely staring into her eyes. "What?" she mumbled shyly. "Do you like me?" I asked her, gently stroking her cheeks with my thumbs. "I— You know..." she stuttered, looking away as a blush spread across her cheeks. That confirmed a yes.

I desperately wanted to kiss her but I also didn't want to make her uncomfortable. From such a close distance, I could see some small cuts on her lips left from when Rogue had forcibly kissed her. That thought alone made my blood boil.

So instead of kissing her on the lips, I gave her a sweet peck on the cheek. "I really like you, too," I smiled at her. She grinned at me and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. My smile widened unconsciously when I hugged back.

After the hug, Y/N changed her clothes while I respectfully looked away. Then I gave her one more kiss on the cheek and walked out of the room.

---

I hurried towards the dining room, late. It was 10:30 in the morning. When I finally entered the room, everyone inside looked at me. I glanced around, stopping when I saw Y/N. She was still in the t-shirt I gave her last night, a cup of coffee in her hands.

Jack, Trystan and Shawn were wearing the clothes I provided, too. "Hey," I smiled, walking towards Y/N. She smiled when I put my arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. "Ooh, did you two fondue?" Anthony asked excitedly, causing me to roll my eyes.

Chris blushed as the four youngsters looked around, confused. "Fondue…?" Jack asked slowly. "Sex." Jack and Trystan went bright red while Shawn smirked. "Did you?" he asked Y/N in a teasing, affectionate tone.

"We didn't. We said we liked each other and hugged, that is it."

"I believe it's official, then, Y/N and Sebastian are dating!" Chris grinned. "Hurray!" Everyone cheered as I gave her a sweet kiss on her lips, chuckling. I pulled away and the two of us shared soft smiles.

---

A/N: Hi, leave a like!

[utopianvoices]

it’ll be okay | k. hongjoong

∞ a/n: it was supposed to be submitted beCAUSE ITS FOR YOU but because you asked me to post it, i’m posting >:( not really an actual fic, just something i wrote for @curanonemu​ / @youneedapiratekink​ because i love them so much <333

Everyone knows life is like a heartbeat.

The moment it goes up, it’s bound to—no. It’s supposed to come down. There’s no highs without lows.

Everyone knows this. But that doesn’t mean they are ready to accept the lows whenever it hits full force.

You were no exception.

It was a tough period—maybe even one of the toughest you’ve experienced—and you were distraught.

Dragging your feet through the door, ready to crash onto your bed and sleep away the next few days just so that you wouldn’t have to wake up and face your daily demons, you stop at the subtle scent of lemon wafting through the apartment.

Taking a few more steps into the apartment, your eyes wander around, wondering where the smell was coming from, when you stop right outside your bedroom.

You have the perfect view from where you are standing, and you’re sure that your pretty much dead and exhausted heart was slowly coming back to life from what you see.

Your boyfriend kneels beside the bathtub, busy arranging flowers around the bathroom, and making sure that the scented candle was well lit and burning, stopping his actions to relight the candle whenever it went out from the wind blowing through the open window.

There’s an urgency in his actions, most likely due to the fact that you came back about the same time everyday, and it was definitely time for you to come home.

Your eyes water involuntarily at his actions, and you let out a soft sob against your wishes, immediately catching the attention of your boyfriend who whips around so quickly that you’re worried he might have broken his neck.

“Oh! You’re home!” he exclaims, quickly walking out the bathroom and shutting the door, though he knows that you’ve already seen what he had spent doing the past half an hour. “W-wait are you crying? Baby, is everything okay?”

You don’t miss the worry in his eyes as he cups your face in his hands, staring at you like you would disappear any moment. And maybe you had really felt like you were going to disappear any moment; until you saw your boyfriend.

There are a thousand questions running through your head. Why was he home so early? What was he doing in the bathroom? How the fuck did he manage to look so good all the time?

Of course, the last question didn’t really fit the theme, but it was a valid question you never found the answer to.

But what comes tumbling out your mouth instead, is a choked “I missed you”.

His eyes soften at your words, and he pulls you into a hug, resting his head on your shoulder as you bury you face in his neck, now full on crying as you soak his shirt with your tears.

“I missed you too, baby,” he whispers, patting your back slowly in an attempt to calm you down. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much lately. Especially since you’ve been having such a bad time.”

Bewildered, you pull away from the hug, looking at him with wide eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“How did you know?”

He lets out a soft laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he looks at you lovingly, hands around your waist. “I’m your boyfriend. I know these things. Plus, you haven’t been answering my calls as you would usually, so I figured something was up and decided it was time I came back from the studio and spent some quality time with my beautiful girlfriend.”

You look at him, your heart beating steadily as you feel yourself already starting to heal. There was no medicine like your boyfriend, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be than his arms.

“I prepared something special, but I’m sure you already saw it,” he pouts, walking towards the bathroom with your hand in his, opening the door to reveal his masterpiece. “Hope you like it.”

You smile at him, pulling him by the collar to press a soft kiss against his lips, muttering a “I love it” against his lips as he recovers from your sudden action.

“Time for our bath!”

He removes his shirt right after that small exclamation, prompting you to do the same as he tests the temperature of the water.

You end up undressing first, eager to get into the warm bath as you wait for him to get in, shortly following when you realise he has gotten comfortable.

You sit in between his legs, your back against his chest as you involuntarily let out a small sigh, already feeling the tight knots and anxiety that had built up from the past few days wash away with the warm water.

His hands slowly caress your arms before finding your fingers, choosing to slowly play with them instead of intertwining them together, which earns a small giggle from you—a sound that was the best kind of music to his ears, and mind you, he was a music producer.

He is the first to speak up, breaking the comfortable silence hanging between the both of you, as you snuggle in closer to the man behind you.

“Whatever it is that you’re going through, just know that it’s not going to last forever. It might take days, even weeks, before it’s all right, but don’t ever give up. You’re stronger than your problems and I believe in you.”

He ends his little speech with a kiss to the top of your head, and you feel your eyes water again at the amount of love you held for the boy of average height who managed to steal your heart.

He was right. It was all temporary. The pain, the anxiety, the uncertainty.

But you knew what was permanent and definite.

The pure and sacred love you shared between the both of you.

You smile as the tears blur your vision, turning your head from where you sat to look at the love of your life. “I love you, Kim Hongjoong.”

And he smiles. He smiles, and you know that you’re definitely not alone in life. Not when you had this man next to you.

“I love you too, darling. And just remember, it’ll be alright.”

hello my wittle baby ehehe i know you’ve been having a hard time the past few days but i hope you feel better after reading this small little something?? :D i love you and i agree with your boyfriend c; you’re stronger than everything and i hope you remember that anytime you’re having it hard 💖💞💝💕💗💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[icyharrington]

Is It Wrong? (Michael Langdon X Reader)

SO! a couple months ago, @langdonsrapture and i had some... interesting conversations about stepdad duncan and stepbrother michael, and i ended up agreeing that i’d write a stepbro michael fic if she wrote a stepdad duncan fic. and she wrote her stepdad duncan fic, so..... i present to you, STEPBROTHER MICHAEL! i am so sorry for this foolishness.... (also, this is going to be a multi part series!!) 

plot: michael langdon is a picture-perfect fuckboy, and, lucky for you, he’s also your stepbrother. how will you survive?

warnings: inappropriate relationships (I MEAN OBVIOUSLY), fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, high school au, drug mentions, alcohol mentions, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk 

word count: 6k 

tagging some people i think might be interested: @langdonsrapture @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @wroteclassicaly @langdonsinferno @americanhorrorstudies @sodanova @alicecooper19 @ccodyfern @starwlkers @duncvn @xtheinevitableprophecyx

i.

The summer before your senior year of high school, your life was abruptly separated into two parts: before Michael Langdon, and after Michael Langdon. Up until then, your life had been peaceful- maybe a little boring, mundane, but peaceful all the same. You’d had a painfully average life with painfully average grades and a painfully average social life, but there was nothing to complain about, living in your modest high-ranch with your father in the middle of the suburbs.

And then your father met Miriam Mead Langdon, a slightly eccentric but nice-enough woman who oftentimes frequented the same grocery store he did. You hadn’t had a problem with Miriam; you were pleased to see your father happy after having been single for so long, ever since your mother passed away years before. No, you didn’t have a problem with Miriam- it was her son, Michael, that you couldn’t fucking stand.

Michael Langdon was everything you hated- cocky, rude, a smart-ass, spoiled. Everyone who met him seemed to fall under his spell, charmed by his smooth talking and boyish good looks, and so he always seemed to get whatever he wanted. There was no question of whether he was attractive, with soft waves of blond hair and admittedly beautiful baby blue eyes, paired with plump pink lips that always seemed to be curled into an infuriating smirk. Girls swooned over him, including your own friends (which you’d gagged over), and boys fought for his approval and friendship. It was beyond nauseating.

When your father had announced that he and Miriam were engaged, you’d been forced to swallow your distaste for the boy who, soon enough, would be your stepbrother. In June they were married, and soon afterwards, Miriam and Michael moved into your father’s home. Michael got the once-vacant guest room down the hall from your bedroom, and within a few days it had become an entirely new place; he’d plastered the walls with posters, depicting everything from horror movies to half-naked girls to metal bands. The top of his dresser was strewn with random things he’d thrown there: an empty Jack Daniels bottle, AXE body spray (because of course), an enormous glass-blown bong, a half-empty pack of Marlboro Reds, designer sunglasses. The entire room reeked of weed, sometimes drifting down the hall and into your room, but for some reason your father never mentioned it (which you were sure he would, had it been you who was stinking up the house and not Michael).

That entire summer, you were forced to witness Michael getting away with things you could never dream to: sneaking in girls at all hours of the night (no headphones were good enough to block out the scarring noises that left his room on these occasions), stealing your father’s expensive liquor from the glass-paneled cabinets, leaving the house at 1 am and coming back home after sunrise. It seemed that he was able to talk himself out of anything, and if you didn’t hate him so much, you might have even said you envied him a little.

The only upside was that you were graduating high school this year; the both of you would be off to college in the fall, and then you’d never have to see his stupid, smug face again. Or, at least, almost never.

That thought was the only thing that kept you from losing grip on your sanity; like a prayer, you’d tell yourself: only a few more months.

ii.

“Michael, I don’t know why you’re being so difficult. Just take your sister to school.” The even voice of Miriam filled your kitchen as you glared at Michael, who was slumped over a bowl of cereal- your cereal- at the kitchen table.

“My sister?” he repeated through a mouthful of corn flakes. You gagged dramatically, hoping the gesture caught his eye. “You guys got married not even four months ago and now I’m suddenly expected to act like she’s my blood relative?”

You rolled your eyes, frowning when he reached for the cereal box.

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” you muttered, grabbing the box away before he could take more from it.

“Michael,” said Miriam, her voice tinged with warning, but you knew she wasn’t actually going to do anything. Not to Michael, her precious, perfect baby boy who apparently could do not wrong. “You’re going to the same place. It only makes sense for you to drive her.”

“Whatever,” he griped, standing up to grab his backpack off the counter without bothering to put his dish away. Just as you’d expected, Miriam took his bowl and placed it in the sink without a word. “C’mon.”

You followed him to the front door, watching as he retrieved his ring of keys from the back pocket of his black skinny jeans.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just get a ride with (best friend’s name),” he said irritably.

“Because we’re no longer speaking, that’s why.”

“Is it because of-“ he paused, flashing you a shit-eating grin, cocking one eyebrow at you knowingly. Dickhead.

“What do you think?”

“Aww, come on, you’re still mad about that?” he chuckled, pulling his sunglasses off the front of his shirt and sliding them on.

“Yes.” You trailed behind Michael onto the porch, slamming the door behind you loudly. He dug his thumb into a button on his keys, and on cue his sports car- because of fucking course he had a sports car- let out its usual cheery beep as it unlocked.

“You mind getting in the back?” he asked you, tossing his keys up into the air idly and catching them before opening the driver side door.

You scoffed. “Um, yes, I mind?” You opened the passenger door defiantly to find the leather seat strewn with CDs, food wrappers, a math textbook which you highly doubted he used, and- you wrinkled your nose- was that a box of fucking condoms? Yep, condoms, Magnum XL with added lubrication (you seriously regretted taking the time to read the box).

“Ew, Michael,” you said, snatching up the box before tossing it into the back as though you might contract a deadly disease if you touched it for too long. “Very discreet.”

“What, was that the wittle virgin’s first time seeing condoms in real life?” he teased, slipping into the front seat and turning the key in ignition. You picked up as much of his junk as you could before throwing it haphazardly into the back, earning a wince from Michael.

“Not that I have anything to prove to you, but I’m not a virgin,” you lied.

“Riiiight.” He switched on the radio, screwing up his face indecisively as he flipped through the stations.

“No, seriously,” you said, getting in the passenger’s seat and shutting the car door. You considered putting on your seatbelt, but thought that might be something Michael would tease you about, so you refrained.

Why did you even care what he thought?

“Okay, then, who’d you do it with?” he said, reaching into the glove compartment to retrieve a crushed pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and stuck it between his teeth, rotating his body as he searched the floor of the car for a lighter.

Your lips turned down in disgust. “Can you not do that right now?”

“Uh, it’s my car,” he snapped, and you retreated. He found a lighter, flicking it on and off presumably to test if there was any fluid left, and then he lit his cigarette. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke unfurl from his nose, before his face lit up once more with a mischievous grin. “Oh right. Who was it that you had sex with, again?”

You pressed your lips together, annoyed that he’d remembered. “You don’t know him.”

You couldn’t see his eyes due to the fact that they were covered with tinted lenses, but you were sure he’d narrowed them suspiciously in your direction at this. It was so obvious that you were full of shit, and you knew it. “I know pretty much everyone who goes to our school.”

“He doesn’t go to our school.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced, but you were grateful when he didn’t press on further. He rolled down the window, bringing the cigarette to his plump lips as he backed out of the driveway, hardly bothering to glance over his shoulders. You weren’t entirely sure how he hadn’t been in a car accident yet. Probably just dumb luck, which Michael always seemed to have an abundance of.

You stared out the window for a while, arms crossed in front of your chest as you attempted to avoid the smoke that Michael made no effort to shield you from. The morning sun shone through the window and bounced off Michael’s effortless mop of blond waves, just slightly overgrown, which he’d attempted to neaten with the smallest hint of hair gel.

He looked like something from a movie, you decided, with his leather jacket and laid-back stance, reclined against the back of the seat with one hand resting on the wheel. You couldn’t help but notice his sharp, angular jawline, clenching slightly as he craned his neck to look at the road, and for a moment you almost caught yourself… admiring him.

You shuddered. Absolutely fucking not.

You were halfway to school when Michael decided to break the silence. “So you and (b/f/n) are really done being friends?”

“I mean, I very clearly asked her not to fuck my brother and she did anyway, so yes, really.”  

You saw the vaguest hint of a smirk play at the corners of his lips, his stump of a cigarette dangling out from between them, and you fought back the urge to backhand him.

“So since you’re no longer friends,” he said, putting his cigarette out on the steering wheel and discarding it outside, “you won’t have a problem with us fucking again, then?”

Of fucking course. You should’ve known better than to believe he actually had any sort of interest in what went on in your life.

“I hate you so fucking much,” you murmured.

“I know,” he said, seeming pretty pleased with himself. Why the fuck did your father have to choose the mother of the worst goddamn person in the world to get married to?

Michael pulled up to the school and into his front-and-center reserved parking space, which he’d allegedly won year-round access to in some kind of charity raffle (though you had a sneaking suspicion it had more to do with the fact that every staff member at the school was practically up his ass and gave him whatever he wanted). Pulling the blinder down and sliding open the attached mirror, he examined his reflection for an unsettlingly long period of time before turning to you.

“Do you mind, like, not speaking to me when we get out of the car?”

You let out a huff as you stormed outside, swinging your backpack over your shoulders with exaggerated motions that you hoped were noticeable. Then, still not entirely satisfied, you flipped him the middle finger. From the driver’s seat, still entirely calm and composed, he laughed.

God, you hated him.

iii.

How you’d wound up getting a date with one of Michael’s fuckboy friends was beyond you.

You’d been stranded at school, because of course Michael had ditched you after you’d made him wait all of thirty seconds after the final bell sounded. Next thing you knew, a boy, whom you recognized as one of Michael’s friends, approached you as you wandered aimlessly by the front of the school- you’d exchanged the expected pleasantries (oh, you’re Michael’s sister, right? he’d asked, even though it wasn’t even a question, considering he was at your house almost every weekend) before he’d offered you a ride home, which you’d accepted perhaps against your better judgement.

On the drive home you’d made surprisingly easy conversation, and when he finally pulled up in front of your house, he stopped you before you got out of the car.

“I’d love to take you out sometime,” he’d said sweetly. “How about this weekend?”

Apprehensive as you were, you realized what a prime opportunity this would be to get Michael back. Also, he was pretty damn cute, with prominent dimples and curly brown hair and tanned skin. So you’d accepted the offer, and subsequently arranged for him to pick you up at 8:00 that Friday.

You couldn’t wait for Michael to find out.

iv.

“So how was school?” asked Miriam, shoveling a pile of mashed potatoes onto her plate with an unnaturally friendly grin plastered across her face. You always dreaded family dinners- the forced conversation, the fact that you had to pretend to get along with Michael, the awkward periods of silence as everyone quietly chewed on their food. To you, it was a nightmare, but your father insisted on having “quality family time” every night of the week, and so everyone was expected to be around the kitchen table at 6:00 sharp, no exceptions.

Even Michael wasn’t able to get out of the dinners; he’d attempted every excuse in the book, but your father had refused to let up. Tonight Michael had claimed that he had plans to study at the library- an obvious lie, even to your father, who truly thought Michael was some kind of golden boy; you’d reveled in the dejected look on his face as he’d grudgingly sat down across from you, unable to get his way for once in his charmed life.

“Fine,” you and Michael said in unison, responding to Miriam’s question.

“You kids always say that,” said your father. “Did anything interesting happen? Come on, there has to be more than one word to describe how your day went!”

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing up to see if Michael was paying attention; it didn’t appear that he was, his head resting in the palm of his hand, elbow settled on the edge of the table as he twirled and un-twirled his spaghetti on the end of his fork. You decided to proceed anyway. “I actually got asked out on a date.”

Michael’s head shot up to look at you, eyes wide. “No way. By who?”

You scowled at him. “None of your business.”

“It’s one of my friends, isn’t it?” He seemed pissed, perhaps a bit more pissed than you’d expected, and you were curious as to why he even cared so much.

“Maybe,” you said coyly, taking a sip of water. This was even more satisfying than you thought it would be, getting under his skin, and you made a mental note to try and piss him off more often.

“A date?” your father said, eyebrows furrowed in a stern expression. You weren’t exactly the most popular with boys, and so he wasn’t yet used to the prospect of his baby girl being taken out.

“Mhm,” you said, meeting your gaze with Michael’s and flashing him a barely-detectable wink. Goddamn, did it feel good to finally have the upper hand.

“Well, that’s exciting,” said Miriam. “He’s a very lucky guy.”

Michael still appeared to be beside himself. “Which friend was it? Was it Jacob? Matthew? Chris?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious,” he said, balling his fists up on either side of his plate so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Okay, what the hell was his problem?

“Oh, so it’s okay for you to run around with my friends as much as you want, but if I wanna have fun and go out with one of your friends, it’s not allowed? Grow up, dickhead.”

“Language,” scolded your father. You ignored him.

Michael’s nostrils flared, and for a fleeting second, you almost thought he looked cute, all riled up and angry like this. The second the thought crossed your mind, you shuddered, willing it away as quickly as it had come.

“This is different,” said Michael, giving you a pointed look that said, you know what I’m talking about but I can’t say it right now because our parents are sitting right here.

Still, you weren’t actually sure you did know what he was talking about.

“No, it’s not. You’re just mad that someone’s finally giving you a taste of your own medicine,” you spat, abruptly jumping to your feet and picking up your half-full plate of food. “I have homework to do,” you said to your father, not giving him a chance to protest as you hurried over to the sink and dropped your plate in.

/

You’d just gotten settled on your bed when Michael barged into your room, startling you as he burst through the door without warning.

“You know he’s gonna try and fuck you, right?” was the first thing he said, somewhat smug as he leant against the doorframe to look at you.

“You don’t even know who I’m going out with,” you said as dismissively as you could manage, barely looking up from the Youtube video you were watching.

“If it’s one of my friends, he’s gonna try to fuck you, believe me.” He waited for you to react, and when you didn’t, he let out a condescending snort. “Have fun explaining to him that you’re a big fucking virgin.”

This caught your attention, and you averted your eyes up to your stepbrother, his hair just starting to fall from its hold, soft curls clinging to his forehead and neck. He looked so much more innocent like this- sweet, even, dressed in his plaid flannel sleep pants and plain white t-shirt rather than his usual all-black ensemble. He had one toned arm hooked in front of his chest, long fingers wrapped around the bicep of his opposite arm, his muscles rippling slightly with each movement of his upper body. You licked your lips, mouth suddenly going dry.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you asked him sincerely, as if he might decide to drop his act and actually explain to you what was upsetting him.

“I don’t have a problem. You know, excuse me for looking out for my little sister.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajama bottoms for added emphasis, slumping his shoulders dramatically.

At this, you laughed, full and genuine. What a load of shit.

“First of all, Michael, I’m a month younger than you. And second of all, we both know you don’t give a fuck about me. So cut the shit.”

He sneered. “Whatever. I hope you like getting fucked and dumped.”

With that, he turned on his heels, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway and leaving you alone and, quite frankly, confused.

v.

You were in the midst of straightening your hair on Friday night when someone began pounding urgently on the bathroom door. You didn’t have to see the person on the other side, though, to know exactly who it was.

“What do you want, Michael?” You eased the iron down on a chunk of your hair, taking extra precaution not to accidentally burn yourself.

“You’ve been in there long enough,” he said, voice muffled by the barrier of the door. “I need to shower.”

“You showered this morning, dumbass,” you said, setting down the straightener for a moment to apply some eyeliner along the band of your upper eyelashes. You weren’t exactly well-versed in the art of makeup, but considering tonight was the night of your first real date, you’d decided to do some experimenting with the little makeup you owned.

“I have to pee,” he pressed on. You had been in the bathroom for a long time, enjoying yourself as you got ready and listened to music in only your underwear, but in all honesty you were having fun pissing Michael off.

“Too bad.” You brushed some light pink blush onto your cheeks, leveling your head back and forth in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t too much.

There was a scraping noise as the door swung open- that lock had always been faulty. Your arms flew up to your nearly-exposed chest, and your face bloomed deep red as Michael’s pale eyes dropped downwards towards the smooth expanse of your chest. His mouth fell agape before he shut it again, taking a step back, and you could’ve sworn that he, too, was blushing. Or at least it looked that way. It could be the crappy bathroom lighting, you supposed.

He quickly composed himself, poising an eyebrow at you.

“You own a matching bra and underwear set?” he mused.

You shifted, wishing he would just fuck off already, all at once feeling very insecure in your pale pink set that you’d purchased on sale at Victoria’s Secret a few days before. It was your first ever “nice” set of lingerie, and even though you weren’t necessarily planning for anything sexual to happen on your date, you’d thought that tonight would be the perfect occasion to wear it.

“Uh, yeah?” you said, hoping you came off as nonchalant as possible.

“Did you buy that just for tonight?” he asked you with a mocking twinge to his voice, eyes flashing venomously. Your skin prickled in embarrassment, and you looked away.

“No,” you said, picking up the hair straighter again and clamping it around another section of your hair.

“Aww, is tonight the night? Finally getting rid of that v-card?” You focused on your reflection, knowing that the cocky expression no doubt plastered across his face would only serve in making your blood boil.

“Will you just fuck off?” You shoved his firm chest with your free hand, hardly stirring him at all. He snickered, lips twitching at your attempt at being assertive.

“Have fun tonight,” he said in a singsong tone. “But just don’t expect some kind of amazing romantic experience. He’ll probably never call you again once he blows his load inside you.”

Before you could retaliate, he slammed the door shut, and you could hear him laughing to himself as he retreated to his bedroom down the hall. You could still smell his cologne, lingering in the air, even once he was gone.

All at once, a pit formed in your stomach.

vi.

The date was fine, until it wasn’t anymore.

Michael’s friend had arrived at 8:00 on the dot, wasting no time before he began showering you with compliments- he’d remarked that you smelled amazing, making a point to bring his face close to your neck and inhale deeply, which you’d giggled in response to. He’d gushed over how well your maroon sweater flattered your skin tone, eyes just barely ghosting over your cleavage.

First he’d taken you to a diner. Nothing fancy, but you still appreciated the gesture all the same. Over pancakes you’d discussed your plans for after high school, among other things, and you’d been pleased to find how well you both got along.

After dinner was when things had gone downhill. Instead of driving to the local bowling alley, like he’d told you he would, you’d both somehow ended up on the other side of town, parked outside of an abandoned supermarket.

Here we fucking go, you thought to yourself as he shut off the car and stared at you expectantly.

“So,” he said lowly, leaning in towards you while one hand slipped down the side of your seat, pushing down the lever to recline the back. “What do you wanna do now?”

“I thought we were going bowling,” you deadpanned. Perhaps you might have considered doing something sexual with the boy, had he not pulled some shit like this, but now there wasn’t a fucking chance.

“Mmm,” he said, and you cringed at his attempt at sounding sexy as he pressed his lips to the side of your neck. “I think I know a different game we can play.”

You lifted your shoulders up, the suddenness of your motions jerking his head back. “I think you need to take me home.”

He knit his brows, face falling, as he sat upright again. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Very much so,” you retorted, folding your arms in front of you.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

“And you’re a colossal fucking douchebag.”

You hated that Michael had been right about something, and you most certainly weren’t looking forward to explaining what had happened when you arrived home. You felt stupid, naive, but knew you had nobody to blame but yourself. Your heart sank- there was no way Michael would ever let you live this down.

The drive home was completely silent, and the boy didn’t wait for you to get inside before he sped off into the night. Not that you’d expected him to, after he’d revealed himself to be such a complete and utter fuckboy.

It was barely 9:30 when you arrived through the front door, trying your best to make as little noise as possible so as not to alert anyone of your arrival. The second you’d shut the door behind you, the first tear fell- you hadn’t even realized you were on the verge of crying, but now tears were flowing freely down your cheeks. You wiped your eyes with the back of your sleeve, inadvertently staining the fabric with eyeliner, and you let out a second choked sob at the sight.

You reached down to take off your boots, creeping up the stairs with as much stealth as you could muster. The last thing you wanted right now was for Michael to approach you, especially not while you were vulnerable like this.

Sniffling gently, you padded across the wood flooring to your bedroom, gritting your teeth in concentration as you tiptoed past Michael’s room. Your fingers had just barely brushed your doorknob, however, when you heard Michael’s voice behind you.

“Back already?”

You nearly had a heart attack right then, crying out when his voice cut brashly through the silence. You whipped around, no longer worried about preserving your pride, tear-filled eyes squinted in frustration.

“Yep, I’m back. And before you ask, yes, you were right. He was a fucking asshole. Go ahead and laugh, I don’t give a shit.”

He seemed surprised, the amused look on his face faltering ever-so-slightly. “Told you so.”

He tilted his head, leaning his weight onto his shoulder which rested against the doorframe. It appeared like he wanted to say something else, and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“You know, uh, you might feel better if you smoked some weed.” He pointed over his shoulder into his room. For a moment, you were speechless. Was he—inviting you to hang out with him? “I have some good shit. If you wanna smoke some with me.”

You blinked in disbelief. Was this some sort of sick joke? Something about the way he looked at you, though, told you that he was being serious. Giving him a weak half-smile, you patted away the remainder of your tears with the edge of your sleeve.

“You know what? I think I will.”

vii.

Lying on your back, you watched Michael’s color lamp fade from color to color with bated breath, entranced with the hazy display. The world was so much more beautiful like this, you thought, vision blurred around the edges with a soft glow.

You’d never been high before, but after taking one hit from Michael’s bong (and getting laughed at for coughing so hard), you were gone. Michael was just as stoned as you were, his bloodshot eyes drooping at the corners, lying next to you with his hands folded over his chest.

It was probably the first time the two of you had ever gotten along. You’d talked for what felt like hours- about what, you could hardly remember, but your stomach muscles ached from how hard you’d been laughing all night. Maybe Michael isn’t such a dick, after all, you’d thought in passing.

You turned your head over to Michael, whose porcelain skin was bright pink from the light of the color lamp, and without thinking you reached out and touched his cheek.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a smile, full lips curving upwards on one side, voice raspy and thick.

“Your face is pink.”

“So’s yours.”

You both stared at each other before erupting into hysterics, and then, out of nowhere, Michael’s lips were planted hard against yours. It happened so unexpectedly that it took you a moment to register what had happened, but your lips had already begun to move fluidly against his before the thought processed in your mind.

You whimpered, grasping at the front of his t-shirt and twisting the fabric in your palms, his tongue sliding past your teeth and into your mouth. You could taste his favorite cinnamon gum, the flavor melding seamlessly with that of stale cigarettes, and your breath hitched as he rolled on top of you, propping himself up with his arms on either side of you.

You panted breathlessly beneath him, lifting your hand to the back of his neck and pulling him back down towards you. You craned your neck to meet your lips with his again, your teeth clashing noisily as he deepened the kiss. When he pulled away, a silvery string of spit stretched between your mouths.

What the fuck was happening?

“I knew it,” he mumbled against your jaw, sending vibrations through your body and straight to your cunt.

“Knew what?” You writhed as his torso pushed against yours, feeling the hard protrusion in the front of his flannel pants against your thigh.

“That you’re a virgin. You can’t even kiss properly.”

You gaped at him, heart racing when he brought one hand to wander underneath your sweater, gripping your right breast roughly. You mewled at the possessiveness of his touch, sinking your teeth into your lower lip, and he smirked.

“So sensitive,” he remarked. He pulled down the cups of your bra and tweaked your nipple before massaging it roughly with his thumb, earning him a breathy moan from the back of your throat. “Mm, you like having your big brother touch you, baby?”

You nodded fervently, the ache of your cunt intensifying now, his head moving to the crook of your neck to plant sloppy kisses along your throat. “This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it? What you touch yourself thinking about, late at night when you think nobody can hear you.”

Your eyes widened, gasping slightly when he attached his lips to your neck and began sucking a bruise onto the tender stretch of skin. He brought his hand out from under your shirt, running his fingertips along your bottom lip, and obediently you opened up for him.

He slid two of his fingers into your mouth and over your warm tongue, pressing down as he gathered your saliva on the calloused skin. He bit down slightly on your neck before swiping his tongue over the freshly-formed hickey, relieving you of the small bit of pain he’d caused.

“M-michael,” you whined, once he’d pulled his fingers from your mouth. He shifted himself so he was resting on his side beside you, bringing his wet fingers down to your pelvis and undoing the button of your jeans.

“You want your big bro to make you cum on his fingers? Hm?”

The vulgarity of your words sent a fresh wave of arousal between your thighs, and you groaned.

“Hm?” he repeated, moving his hand from the waistband of your jeans to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“God, yes,” you breathed. At this point, you were too far gone to think about how goddamn wrong this was. You’d never felt this way before, never been so turned on, and there was nothing in the world that could make you want to stop now.

He exhaled sharply in what sounded like a slight chuckle, and he returned his hand to the zipper of your jeans, pulling it down and shoving his hand into your underwear in one swift motion. You melted at the feeling of his damp fingers moving down the smooth layer of hair along your pubic bone, forming small circles over your clit once he reached it.

“Fuck-“ you exclaimed; all his experience with girls must’ve really paid off, because he knew what he was doing- carefully he pulled back your hood, exposing your pulsing clit, and with his middle finger he tapped lazy patterns on the bud.

Your stomach clenched as he dragged his fingers along your slit, spreading the abundant wetness there and sending shivers down your spine. Parting your lips, he pressed one finger to your entrance experimentally, kissing your shoulder almost comfortingly as he eased it inside.

“So fucking tight,” he rasped, sinking his finger further inside you with a lewd squelching sound. It was your first time being penetrated, and it burned as you felt your walls being stretched out, but within seconds the discomfort was overtaken with pleasure. “My little sis is so wet for me.”

He began pumping in and out steadily, your hips rocking against his hand instinctively, and it wasn’t long before he added a second finger; your jaw unhinged at the intrusion, your thighs spreading further to welcome him inside.

“Michael,” you moaned, eyes rolling back when he quickened his pace, repositioning himself so he could thumb your clit with his free hand. He tilted his head up, biting your swollen lower lip and pulling it towards him, toying with your clit so intensely that it was almost too much.

“You wanna cum, baby?” His hot breath warmed your cheek and desperately you bobbed your head up and down.

He slipped his hand out from between your legs, resulting in a disappointed groan passing your lips. Taking hold of the denim material clinging to your hips, he worked down your jeans and tugged them off, leaving you in only the pale pink lacy thong he’d seen you in earlier.

It was crazy, really, how drastically things had changed in a matter of a few hours.

He crawled down the bed and nestled himself between your legs, spreading them once he’d removed the thin scrap of fabric that was your underwear. You were overtaken with goosebumps as the air hit your throbbing core, his lips brushing teasingly over your inner thighs. You bucked your hips up and he snickered, pushing your pelvis back down on the mattress with one hand.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy,” he purred.

You would’ve shot him a look of distaste, had you not been so worked up.

Slowly, he dragged his tongue up your slit, your hand immediately flying down to tightly grasp at his mess of curls. He glanced up at you from underneath his eyelashes, eyes heavy-lidded from both lust and the THC in his system.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he said, swirling his tongue over your sensitive clit. You twitched, tugging at the root of his hair perhaps a bit too hard, grinding your hips up against his face. Latching his lips around your bundle of nerves, he sucked ruthlessly, sliding two fingers past your entrance for a second time and thrusting them deep.

“That’s it, cum for your big brother.” His words reverberated against your cunt and you cried out, threading his soft hair between your fingers.

He applied even more suction to your clit, turning his fingers inside you and curling them expertly to brush against your spongey inner walls.

It didn’t take much more of this for you to cum, the coil in your stomach snapping without warning. You cried out in ecstasy, your narrow walls tightening around his slender fingers, abdomen tightening as your orgasm flooded throughout your trembling body.

He didn’t stop until you fell back limply into his pillows, chest rising and falling and eyelids fluttering. Finally he pulled away, wiping your juices from his mouth with the back of his hand, a devious grin situated across his lips.

“And to think, all this time I thought you hated me.”

All you could do was roll your eyes.

[astraltickles]

(n.) something lovely discovered by chance

[Trouvaille]

Summary: After reminiscing on childhood antics -  Klaus, Luther, Diego, Allison and Five realise that they don’t know as much about their sister as they thought they did. 

Ticklish!Vanya

Word count: 1917

One could use many different adjectives to describe the Hargreeves family; extraordinary, cunning, powerful, dysfunctional or arguably- ‘one-of-a-kind’. A word that most wouldn't choose however, would be observant. In many aspects of life, but especially when it came to the 7th sibling, Vanya. Being in a famous crime fighting organisation from before they'd hit puberty could be considered rights for justification for her 6 siblings, but the fact remained the same - her brothers and sister could count the number of things they knew about Vanya on one collective, super-powered hand.

Being the only ordinary one in her family, her powers limited to that of playing the violin; she found herself celebrating most of her victories alone. Aside from having most of her milestones in life ignored, such as the name of her first boyfriend, when she first learned how to ride a bike, the time she got accepted into a high-end music school or when she got her first client at her independent business - it bothered Vanya the most that they didn’t know the little things; what was her favourite colour? her favourite song? Where did she go to college? she gave up hope of hearing the correct answer leave her beloved siblings’ lips long ago.

It was an abnormally still evening at the umbrella academy mansion, each sibling silent in their respective rooms, feeding into the awkward and slightly tense atmosphere that seemed to linger within the household no matter the circumstance; the only sound being the soothing tune of Vanya’s Violin. This was until the peace was broken by a familiar ruckus in the living room. Allison, Klaus and Five descended the staircase out of curiosity to find Diego and Luther wrestling over what seemed to be, the television remote?

Allison considered sharing her thoughts on the immature yet unsurprising scenario unfolding before her but chose instead to simply prop herself down on the armchair and observe, smiling internally at the childish tenancies of her siblings. While its not the most peaceful pass-time, anything that wasn't fighting for their lives (or the fate of the universe) was a breath of fresh air. Her siblings did the same, getting comfortable and enjoying the show; adding comedic  commentary when they (Klaus, mostly) deemed necessary. 

This went on for quite some time before Diego executed a game changing tactic - he dug his fingers into Luther's armpits, causing the much Larger man to let out a strained yelp and buckle over before falling completely to the ground. Diego took the opportunity straddle the oh so mighty moon boy and unleash a series of squeak inducing pokes to the belly and chest. 

“Cut it out, 2!” Growled Luther, his dignity hanging by a thread as he’s reduced to a giggling mess by someone barely half his size.  

He swiftly grabbed Diego by the knee and squeezed desperately, effectively making the master of knives gasp and refrain his tickle attack immediately, rolling quickly off of Luther’s large form. They remained frozen, staring at each other with narrow eyes before Allison suggested a truce, and they both backed down and relaxed. 

“Still as ticklish as you were when we were kids, I see” Teased Diego, Remote long forgotten. 

“watch it, Kraken. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your spots” Luther replied, in a threatening yet teasing tone. 

“Okay okay, cut it out you two” Allison intervened, laughing softly.

“We get it, you’re both ticklish wittle soldiers” She cooed, high-fiving Klaus who naturally, cracked up at her playful mockery. 

“I wouldn't test us, chipmunk” Snarled Diego, wiggling his fingers in mid air while Luther recreated the facial expression and high pitched laughter that earned number 3 the nickname chipmunk when they were kids, after being tickled ruthlessly by her brothers. Allison glared at them, while Klaus laughed along at the memory.

“Do NOT make me rumor you, again” She huffed, crossing her arms and turning slightly pink.

“That reminds me” Started Diego, “Does anyone remember the time we tickled Klaus’ feet until he cried and promised to do our homework for a full week?” 

“Or Christmas Eve, when we got Five to beg for mercy after only 3 raspberries and give us his extra pudding?” Luther added, smirking. 

“Glad I wasn't around for much more of that” Five muttered under his breath, focusing on reducing the blush on his youthful features.

“And Ben” Allison smiled, “Poor kid would all but hyperventilate when you’d get his neck” 

Klaus laughed out loud at this, probably at some remark from Ben that only he could hear. 

“Good times” Diego smiled, looking over at Luther who nodded in response. They really were the tickle monsters of the group.

The 5 of them sat in comfortable silence for a couple minutes after that, the air thick with the joyful reminiscence of their childhood. Vanya came down the stars shortly after, assumingly having finished practising for the day, gave her siblings a kind, shy smile and plopped herself down on the couch in front of the television, she picked up the prized television remote and began flipping through the channels. 

It was then that Luther made eye contact with Diego, Five with Allison and Klaus with Ben (Or just stared off into space, it’s hard to tell with number 4). All of them having the same thought. Klaus was the first to move, he went and sat himself on the couch to Vanya’s right; smiling wide. Five did the same, but to her left. Allison, Luther and Diego positioned themselves leaning against the coffee table in front of her, blocking the television from view. Vanya looked around curiously-

“Is..everything okay?” She asked

“Everything is perfectly fine” Five reassured, in a tone that could only mean that he knew 100% what was to come.

“Vanya?” Klaus began

‘..Yes?” Number 7 replied hesitantly, already flushing slightly at the amount of attention that she was currently receiving from her siblings. All eyes on her, this was certainly new.

“Are you ticklish, perhaps?” he propped his elbows on his knees and stroked an imaginary beard, pondering mockingly.

A wave of guilt overcame numbers One through Five at this question, ashamed that it even had to be asked. It was now more than ever that they wished they’d included Vanya in their childhood antics. She however, began to shift her weight from side to side and avoided meeting any of her siblings eyes. 

She was. Extremely so. She had found this out about herself as a young teen, when her boyfriend at the time snuck up behind her and squeezed her sides. She had left that situation with new found knowledge, and him; a bloody nose.

While she had always yearned to be apart of the fun as a kid, watching her siblings ganged up on tormented with tickles was one of the very few times that she didn't mind being left out. 

She stuttered slightly, feeling the the pressure of her siblings (nay, superhuman siblings) surrounding her. 

“uh, not really” She spat out finally, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

“why?” She asked innocently 

Klaus’ smile didn’t falter at her response, knowing that no matter what she said, Vanya was about to receive a whole lot of family love - Hargreeve style.

Five, on the same page as his brother, promptly jabbed a finger into Number 7′s left rib cage (Coincidentally her worst spot) causing her to shriek and jump into Klaus’ awaiting arms. He pulled her onto his lap in a tight hug from behind and whisper/sang into her ear “Liar, Liar pants on fire”.

“Actually, It’s her face that’s on fire, isn’t it Van?” Pointed out Five very matter-of-factly, bringing attention to her blush and causing the rest of her siblings to collectively ‘awww’. Which only worked to intensify the crimson patches forming on her cheeks. 

“Guuyyss” Vanya whined, wondering why she couldn’t stop a smile from creeping up onto her freckled face.

“This is no fair, c’mon lemme go” But she didn’t want to be let go. Her heart was certainly going a hundred miles a minute and she was scared shitless for what she knew was coming but above all that, she felt loved. 

“But Vanya, we have to make up for lost time” Allison pointed out, as Diego approached, showing off his most devious of smirks.

“No no it’s okay! Really it’s fine we don’t have to” She rushed out, preemptively letting out bursts of giggles and halfheartedly trying to escape from Klaus’ grip.

“Oh, But we want to” Diego reassured, before reaching into the gaps left by Klaus’ hugging arms and digging into her ribs.

Vanya tensed every muscle in her body and squealed at first, before dissolving into uncontrollable giggles and letting her head fall back onto Klaus’ shoulder. She shook in her brothers arms, trying to twist and turn away from the tickles - but to no avail. Diego was only poking and prodding at her, very clearly going easy on her to avoid making her overwhelmed, but it was enough to get their ultra ticklish sister squealing (something that they were all very happy to find out). 

“Diego!” She cried out, between giggles. “Stop!”

“Stop? fine - Five, you want a turn?” 

“Do I? Why i’d love to, Diego” Five replied, squeezing Vanya’s left knee as Diego returned to his position next to Luther.

Vanya screeched and kicked her legs while her (younger?) brother administered his tickle attack above and below her knee’s. This seemed to be a good spot on her because one particularly calculated squeeze earned five the most adorable fucking snort any of them had ever heard. Vanya could hear Klaus’ cackling in her ear.

“Fihihive, quite it! I swear to gohohod” She stammered out, kicking wildly yet never escaping his skilled fingers.

It was then that Klaus made the impromptu decision to blow a raspberry on the side of Vanya’s neck - which may have just been the winner.

Her siblings watched in awe as she broke down into silent laughter, her mouth wide open - smiling wider than any of them had ever witnessed. 

Klaus and Five stopped their attack, while Vanya got the chance to catch her breath. 

“You’re all evil!” She breathed out, the grin on her face giving away any undertones suggesting that hadn't enjoyed every moment of it.

“well well well, looks like Vanya is more ticklish than all of us combined” Pointed out Luther, a genuinely loving smile dancing across is usually hard features.

“Our dear sister, who would have known?” Klaus, continued. Morphing his hold on his sister into a more hug-like position 

“We should have” Allison chimed in, softly. 

“Well we do now” Exclaimed Diego

“And whether it’s a good thing or bad thing for you, sis, we’ll definitely have to make up for all that lost time” He smiled sincerely at Vanya, shooting her a playful wink

“Oh that’s not necessary” She replied, with a mock death stare in Diego’s direction

“And if it makes you feel better, you’re without a doubt number 1 on the ticklish sibling scale” Luther declared, earning a symphony of agreements from his siblings.

“And now we know that you snort when you laugh too hard!” Klaus gushed

“And that your smile is one of the most beautiful there is” Countered Allison

“And that our family antics aren’t complete without you in them” Concluded Five

And that’s three more things than they knew yesterday. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a damn good start.

[kpopanimereject]

Stray Kids reaction to coming home to s/o declaring a Nerf War on them/Attacking with Nerf gun

Woojin

Honestly? Giggles. His first reaction would be to giggle

I totally see him being for it, but on the outside he's all, oml what am I going to do with you

Heart eyes y'all 😍

He'd make pew pew noises

Would totally ask for time outs to pick up bullets

Honestly worst part 😣

Would do multiple rapid fires at you

BUT YOU DODGED LIKE A PRO

Who'd win? Him

How? He got fed up with you shooting in one too many times in the forehead

Your sentence: death by tickle

Boy would forget the itty bitty bullets and charge after you

Chan

He'd come home later than usual

He's a busy boi :/

But you knew this

You just didn't know how late

Especially not 2 am late

BUT, you had a burst of energy that day that helped you through it

You were determined

As soon as you saw him walk through that door though

:( poor baby looked exhausted

And here you are ready to pummel him, shame on you

You put down the gun and go to make him something to eat before bed

But oh boy was that your fatal mistake

Who won? Him

How? Got you with YOUR gun while YOU made him some snackies

The utter look of betrayal

Lee Know (you know?)

I'll stop (probably not)

For this round, your double equipped

Two guns, no way you're losing

Right?

Absolutely

As soon as the door opened, you demolished him with round after round

Baby got so scared 😢

He accidentally walked him self back out the door and locked himself out

Who won? You obviously

You let him back in after a minute

But he was all pouty

But you peppered kisses all over and all was good

Until he got his revenge two hours later

Changbin

Number one Cool Guy®️

But you’ve wanted to see him a blushing mess

He always tries to put up and keep up a hard exterior to seem like that manliest man, and he is, but he doesn’t need to keep the walls up all the time

So, you surprised him, and surprised him you did

He let out a squeak upon impact of the bullet hitting him square in between his brows

Good job you

You let out a mischievous laugh, but he caught onto your games

Similar to Woojin, he’d be fed up after so many bullets and just chase after you and your gun

Did you forget to leave him a gun? woops? not

When and if he manages to get you, he would continuously tickle you and peck you with ticklish kisses until you unhand your weapon of mass destruction

When he get a hold of it, he exacts his revenge and shoots you right where you got him

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had been hard at work with dancing that day

For whatever reason he wasn’t in the groove that day

He felt so out of it that when he got home he didn’t even see the note and gun set out for him

To say he was surprise is an understatement

He took a good moment to process it and get back into touch with reality

You see how out of it he is and put down your gun, but he caught on and wanted to make you happy

He went to go pick up his so that he can play with you, all for you

You gestured for him to put it down and talked it out

You caught him on a bad day was all

But had the circumstances been different I see him winning with some tricks up his sleeve

Han

Spooked

This wittle bby I've noticed is more spooked than normal so go easy on him

I'd recommend a Nerf Sword

Can't be completely brutal

But as soon as he catches on to what's going on around him

Watch out

I don't see him actually going for a gun or sword first but more of trying to chase you

And when that doesn't work then he's in on the war

Who won? It was a draw

You both got tired and just wanted some cuddle times 🤧

But FYI is SO admiring you when you're not looking like, how'd he get so lucky

Felix

Meme King ®️

Did you expect anything different

He's gonna dodge the bullets with fortnite dances

I had to spell dodge so many f*cking times it doesn't looked right anymore

But he's a happy camper

Will try to post a pic of it

Until you shoot the phone out of his hand

Boy needs to be reminded that you guys haven't came out as a couple yet (maybe that'll be my next post?)

He couldn't help himself he got too caught up and was just so happy you two were having so much fun

He still takes millions of pictures though when you're not shooting at him and actually posing with him

Who won- him

Even with your killer aim for Felix's phone, he got you first when you went to pose for a picture with him

But it's okay you'll get him in the next round

Seugmin

Dandy boy here was already home actually

You got off work early and decided you wanted to visit him

But you walked in on all of Stray Kids in the midst of an epic battle

So much for relaxing

Atm it was 4-5 but thanks to you, you evened it out

Of course you teamed up with Seugmin

One problem, you had a dumb gun 🤧

Only held two bullets

But it was okay because he covered you when you went to get some

You two were the best team

Maybe even better than the Aussie Line

(there was more to this but I don’t remember it all, lesson learned, save often)

But who would win? You

He’d be a gentleman and let you win, unless you deserve it. Then he’ll pummel you without hesitation

I.N.

Precious fox was studying for a test next week

Could put it off till later because he doesn't want to fall behind in practice

But then again he's been studying for hours

You tried everything, feeding him, talking to him, putting on a movie

You even dragged him out and cuddled but he'd be studying again ten minutes later

So you gotta do what ya gotta do

Thankfully he's too immersed he doesn't hear you grabbing for the plastic guns

When you first start shooting, he gets a bit annoyed, and almost gets angry

But you make a game of it

For every one he gets wrong he gets shot, for every right, a cute lil peck on the cheek

When you went through all the questions, and many smooches later, he feels relieved

And now he has the time to demolish you

Sorry, but he won

How? Ruthless attacks, one after another

Afterwards you demanded one-one-one time and for him to actually eat the food you made earlier

[chanzicoup]

Daddy A-Z (BTS Jin)

A/N: I got this template from tenseoyong and I could not find the original creator to give proper credit to.

Request Regulations (Request Box is Open!)

A = Announcement.- How do you tell him and the world that you’re expecting?

He'd get a hunch about it while you start asking him to make weird food combinations for dinner. At first he'd assume it was just you craving different foods but when the requests were getting to abnormal and you started getting sick in the mornings he'd urge you to take a test and go to the doctor. When the proper diagnosis came and you were officially pregnant Jin would immediately talk to his company about it. Somehow he'd convince them to allow him spare time to be with you and he'll make a personal announcement to the world that he's going to be a father.

B = Books.- Did he read the books?

He bought all of the books and skimmed them before quickly realizing he already knew all of the material and he even thought that the books would be more useful to you so every week he helps you with anything you're struggling to understand. You're thankful for that because what's a breast bump?

C = Cuddles.- Who cuddles the baby more?

He would cuddle you while you cuddle the baby. A mother's connection with their child is and always will be greater than the one with the father in Jin's eyes.  The baby is always in one of your arms if not in their crib. When he gets moments to hold his son or daughter he will always brag to them about you. When you're holding the baby he'd wrap his arms over the both of you protectively and place his hands over your so you both were embracing your child.

D = Daddy.- His reaction to being called Daddy and it setting in.

He's the Mom of BTS and he's jokingly called that quite often so being called Dad by ARMYs (not kinky) and while the fact that he is a dad is processed in his head he gets giggly when he's called a father mainly because it's a new chapter in his life he couldn't wait to begin.

E = Empty.- Who goes to the store when you guys run out of supplies?

He volunteers to go for a quick run to get the few things you frequently run out of. But if you guys are full out in need of buying all of the groceries are low then all of you would go out together to make sure you get the things you need. You can bet that he's holding the baby and showing him or her off to other moms.

F = Feeding time- Who does feeding time?

If you are breast feeding he will give you your space but as soon as you guys move towards bottle feeding, baby food, or solid foods he'll gladly create new dishes made specifically for his child. He'll play airplane with a spoonful of mashed rice and carrots until his child stops throwing food everywhere and making a mess.

G = Grumpy baby. - Who is better at dealing with a grumpy baby?

He has no idea how to calm a crying baby so he will pass it on to you. He'll try singing but that really just works when it's bedtime. The baby will be screaming and crying over his cooing until you take them and then the crying stops. Expect Jin to be pouty about that.

H = How?- how many kids does he want?

I can see two being a good number for Jin. A boy and a girl, he said before he wants an older sister for his son.

J = Jokes.- best dad joke?

"What time did the man go to the dentist? Tooth hurt-y."

K = Kisses.- His favorite place to kiss the baby.

There's only one place? Jin would peck little kisses everywhere on his baby. Their belly, cheeks, forehead. Especially their little fingers and toes.

L = Little.- How he feels when he holds the baby for the first time.

The first time he holds his baby would be minutes after they are born. You'll still be laying in the hospital bed with sweat barely drying from your forehead. The doctor's handed your first born to you first, allowing you to really fathom you had given birth. When the room clears and you and your baby's father are the only ones left you notice Jin staring and ask if he wants a turn. He's nervous of course but he doesn't refuse. Carefully you place the newborn in his arms and he just bites his lip to suppress his smiles. His baby immediately open their eyes when they were put in his arms. He'll probably cry tears of joy but he'll praise his child for being healthy and he'll promise to raise them right and to make both them and you as happy as can be.

M = Mommy.- what does he call you?

He called you "baby" before the pregnancy but now that their was a new baby around he started calling you "sweetheart" and "umma" and you did the same with calling him "appa" because you both thought if your child heard those words enough one of them would be his/her first word.

N = Nappies.- who deals with the really bad ones?

I assume this is asking who would deal with the baby when it's nap time and the baby won't sleep. I'll do more research on this later but for now I can say Jin is better at playtime because whenever his kid starts crying he'll spoil them and do whatever they want to do instead of what they need to do. You'll have to be the one to enforce the rules and put the baby down for their daily nap. But you can trust Jin to take care of the times at night when the baby wakes up every two hours, as long as you won at rock paper scissors.

O = Onesies- Who likes to dress the baby in ridiculous outfits?

He's bought outfits for the three of you to match in even in the early stages of your pregnancy. As your baby gets bigger the outfits get more with the times. It'll start with one of those novelty tee's that says "There's a bun in this oven" and then he'll bring out the old "best mom" "best dad" and "best baby (when I'm eating)" shirts. But his favorite are the shirts that say "King" "Queen" and "Prince/Princess".

P = Pet names- names he calls the baby.

Wittle baby, Prince/Princess, baby cakes.

Q = Questions.- How many questions does he ask the nurse?

He'll have a list of questions to ask about your health and the baby's. Since he's got parenting down he just has to make sure everything else is running smoothly.

R = Rely- what is the biggest thing you rely on each other for?

He'll count on you to make sure the baby won't forget about him when he can't be there. Even though he convinced his boss to give him more free time work eventually piles up or he has to go on tour for a few months so he'll hope you face time, send pictures, and have your baby listen to some of his songs when times get tough. You on the other hand would count on Jin to support you when you need it, which he would defiantly do with no question. But when your maternity leave is over and you have to return to work you'll hope he takes more of the turns while putting the baby to sleep at night when they wake up repeatedly or to at least get a babysitter when you both can't be there, which is rare because you don't want someone else raising your child.

S = Sleep duty. - who gets up when it’s really late at night?

As I said before you both take turns but it depends on who had work or who had won rock paper scissors.

T = Trepidation.- fears as a new parent.

He'll be excited and push all of the negatives to the side until it's nearing your due date. He won't say anything to you until you see he's been acting more jittery than normal or has been getting less sleep at night. He's worried he won't be there enough to form a relationship with his baby. He knows he can give him or her all the love but he knows that he'll miss key times in their life because of his career. Jin might also worry about the future and if he can provide for the both of you financially.

U = Ultra sounds.- His reactions to the ultrasounds.

The first ultrasound Jin would not miss for the world, nor would he miss the ones after it. If the appointments were at the same time as a fan meet or even a concert he'll  apologize to the fans later. You and him were getting a chance to see your baby before they would be born. The first time was nerve wracking and the both of you cried. He keeps the pictures in his wallet so when he's feeling stressed he can always look at them and it gives him a motivation boost.

V = Values.- what is the most important value he wants to teach your child.

While Jin has many lessons he has learned over his years he wants to teach them all to his child and future children. If he had to pick the most important one out of them all he wants to have his child understand that people will hate you but you can't let that stop you from doing what you want to do and the best way to get back at them is to show them that you can.

W = Water.- Who gives the babe the baths?

Jin gives you your time to rest when he gets home from work late and volunteers to bathe the babe. Most likely he'll end up getting soaked anyway when your baby is a toddler so he'll change into swim trunks and bathe with them, it saves time and water. But if your baby is still a newborn and it's too dangerous to use the tub and safer to use a sink then he'll still do it with glee.

X = X-mas- what do you guys plan for the holidays?

The holidays are for spending time with family so while you are in fact a family Jin would want to visit your side of the family as well as his to brag about the baby and to also see the loved ones he hasn't been in contact with for years. He'll also plan one of those family photo shoots to make and send Christmas cards.

Y = Yelling.- How many fights do the two of you get in?

It'll be rare you guys fight but when you do it's mainly caused by stress from both ends. After you to have calmed down you talk things out and apologize. Things would never get to the point where you consider breaking up or go to sleep angry. Things will be cleared up then and there.

Z = Zoo- How crazy is the house after the birth?

Both Jin and yourself thought things wouldn't change much but boy were you guys wrong. The house was organized and tidy when you both left for the hospital but when you returned the house took on a complete 180. It'll get so bad that you'll have to set aside a whole day to clean up and get into a routine to keep things normal.

~Blake

[ecotone99]

[HM] There Goes My Nipples Again

The woman wearing very little strutted across the parking lot, and the stupid man walked into a closed door.

The door belonged to a charmingly inconvenient boutique located in a rather busy corner of a fictional town I’ve made up just now, the sort of place with people to eat, things to regret, and, I suppose, whatever else one might think to bother with in an otherwise unimportant backdrop. The man, meanwhile, belonged to - and was wanted by - nobody in particular, which, coincidentally, was the reason he was here in the first place.

“Sir?” a voice asked.

The stupid man looked up to find a strikingly acceptable young lady standing there in the doorway, looking at him in that way that seductively whispered, I wonder if he’ll spend any money here. “Women,” he concussed, attempting to remember at least one or two other words, and then forgetting to bother at all.

“Sir,” the young lady replied, “Far be it from me to question any man’s right to drink himself stupid in the middle of the day, but if you’re going to do that sort of thing, I suggest you do so somewhere more appropriate, like a public library or a city council meeting.”

“I was told,” the man eventually spat out, “that I could find a woman here.”

“I suppose you’re technically correct,” she replied. “But I’m not sure why you felt the need to bring my door into this.”

After thinking really hard about it, something dislodged itself and the man started over. “Is this ‘Bottom of the Barrel, We Get Paid, So You Get Laid?’”

“You’ve seen our ad.”

“A friend of mine referred me. He suggested I come here to help with my…” he said, trailing off in that way one does when one desperately wishes to have the other character finish the first character’s sentence.

“With your…?” she replied, bravely refusing to follow convention.

“Romance problem,” he euphemism’d.

“Well, I’m not sure what you were told, but I’m afraid my door simply isn’t interested.”

The man huffed, hurting his tender wittle headums in the process. “This is ridiculous.”

“I agree,” she said, holding the door open. “Would you like to come inside and perhaps spend some money, then?”

And after an uncomfortable, protracted self-assurance that he would not, in fact, bash his skull against the shop door, the man stepped inside.

“Tell me a bit about yourself, Mr…” the young lady started, guiding him over to her desk and trailing off in that way one does when needing to know someone’s name.

“Customer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Customer. My name is Customer.”

“Bit odd, isn’t it?”

“It’s the best I could come up with.”

She nodded. “I’m sure it was, Mr. Customer. Now, let me know how I can do so, and I’ll be absolutely frothy to rid you of some, most, or all of your money.”

“I want a woman.”

“I think you simpleton’d something about that, yes. But what sort of woman are interested in?"

"Oh, you know the sort. Kind, loving--"

"Smart and beautiful?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. Quite a common request. Any particular aesthetic, make, or model?"

"No, no. I'll take whatever I can get. Just someone who loves me, is all."

"But also smart, kind--"

"And beautiful, yes."

"Of course. Anything else?"

"It’d be nice if she enjoyed the things I do, maybe understood me better."

"I think I understand."

“Well, do you have one?”

“One what?”

“A woman. I came here for a woman.”

“Mr. Customer, what we offer at ‘Bottom of the Barrel, We Get Paid, So You Get Laid’ is completely customizable companion design and printing of made-to-order, honey-glazed, hand-crafted artisanal friends, lovers, and assorted sexual playthings."

“You mean, you don’t have any just laying around.”

“Sir, again, if that’s the sort of thing you’re looking for, then I suggest you get into politics.”

“No, no. I mean, you don’t have any off-the-shelf, over-the-counter women in stock?”

“Custom orders only, I’m afraid”

“Shame.”

“Yes, but I assure you our services are second to none.”

“Well if you have no women in stock, what could you possibly offer?”

“Options, Sir. Options.” She rose with a click of her heels and a wave of her hand, and the walls flickered and came to life with images of women of all shapes, sizes, looks, and attires. “You see, we’ve long discovered that while men such as yourself claim they’re looking for a smart, beautiful, funny, beautifully smart, and funnily beautiful romantic partner, what you’re actually looking for is a fictional surrogate to fill some contrived role in an utterly warped narrative of a poorly written love story that only exists in your head. Whether it’s the strong, independent femme fatale, the diminutive and submissive doll, or perhaps even a flirtatious lesbian whom only you can somehow magically convert into a heterosexual lifemate and plaything. Whatever outlandish concept of a woman you can fathom, we can fabricate.”

“This is insane.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Customer. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“No, no. I’m not offended - that was an impressively accurate guess.”

“We aim to please.”

“This all sounds a little too good to be true. How can you possibly have such a roster of willing women simply waiting to tend to the imaginative whims of a lonely man?”

“I’m afraid I’m failing you, Mr. Customer. Perhaps a demonstration.”

“Is there a charge?” “Not at all. This is a free sample guaranteed to wash out with little more than soap and water.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Well then, please do,” she said, directing him over to a large glass and metal pod. In the pod was nothing but a comfortable chair with a towel on it. “In just a few moments, you’ll perfectly understand what I mean.”

Not sure where this was going, but eager for it to end, Mr. Customer once again did as he was instructed and sat himself down in the comfortable chair. “What’s the towel for?”

“It helps us minimize the cleanup,” she said.

“Cleanup?”

She waved her other hand in a different way and the pod door closed. Two-and-a-half minutes on high and one adorable little ding of a bell later, and the door opened again.

“Well, what do you think?” the young lady asked. "We call this one the 'Manic-Pixie Dream Girl.' It's very popular."

Mr. Customer stepped out of the pod in a cloud of gas known to the state of California to possibly cause some kind of cancer, maybe, and seized on what he saw in the mirror. Meanwhile, a frighteningly accurate play-by-play of what he was seeing played over some nearby speakers, along with a pleasant little tune.

"She was a breastuous bit of leggy sex dipped in the sticky, erotic honey of a needy man's dream," a man's voice started.

"What the hell?" the bit of leggy sex croaked.

The voice continued. "She played with her luxuriously unkempt hair, hastily tied up in a ponytail, and squeezed at the massive udders bolted to her chest, which were seemingly hoisted up by a series of cables and pulleys until they burst forth from her modest, low-cut, crease and crevice-hugging dress. All skewed slightly because of a pair of glasses now in her face."

“What the Hell have you done to me?” Mr. Customer jiggled and bounced.

“Do you know how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly?”

“What? No. Not at all.”

“Well. It’s a lot like that, but not.”

“I meant why have you made me a woman? I came here for a woman, not to be turned into one.”

“Did you, Sir?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you sure that’s what you came here for?”

“Concussion aside, I’m fairly certain that’s what I eventually said, yes.”

"If you were referred to us, then I'm sorry to say that your ideal woman likely doesn't exist. But that doesn't mean you can't make one who does."

The freshly baked bit of scrumptious tart screamed, but in the sense that he didn't.

The young lady sighed. "Women are more than a collection of traits to be picked and plucked and thrown together like some macabre masturbatory stew, Mr. Customer. Some might even consider them people, with internal lives of their own and everything. "

"Isn't that last bit true?" Mr. Customer groped and pawed.

"How should I know? I started this business so I didn't have to bother with all that nonsense."

"What, you don't mean--"

"That I devised a way to take myself and any other man, put them into a metal pod, convert their physical body into an amorphous blob of malleable genetic material, and then reconstitute such a blob back into an ideal female physical specimen to suit their explicit, implicit, and exhibitionist desires, and all while keeping their male brains and identity full intact? Yes, that's more or less the gist of it."

"Huh."

"I'll admit, it does seem like a long walk just to avoid having to compromise my unrealistic expectations for the sake of emotionally bonding with another living soul."

"Any complaints?"

"Not really, no. The men seem perfectly content with their new toys. And the women are happy to be rid of all the creepy little gremlins lurking about their ankles, waiting to catch a glimpse of something she never intended to show them in the first place."

"Well as much as I do love playing with these fantastic breasts, I can't help but feel this might be a little wrong."

"Of course it's wrong, Mr. Customer. There are those who spend their entire lives struggling to better themselves for the sake of finding love, or to become the woman they always knew they were on the inside. But here you and I are, men who have crafted a facade - a sexual fiction and image that exists solely to placate our uncouth, uninhibited animal urges at the expense of any tattered shred of respect for women."

"Sounds like that might upset a lot of women."

"Quite a few actually. But if any of my clients had the first clue about women, or what they thought about or felt, they wouldn't come to me, now would they?"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"I did."

"Right. Well. I guess a test drive couldn't hurt."

"Wonderful! Would you like to wear this one out, then?"

"Actually. Do you have anything in a ‘bisexual-open-to-a-threesome?’"

*****

To Fight the Dawn! with more original short-form comedy and one-shot fiction, checkout my profile.

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[bornfromscarletcords]

Darkly Dying

Part 1 Dead Exodus

The corpses were not the first thing to appear, though they would come, in numbers both great and terrifying. No, the first signs were more casual peculiarities. People forgetting things for no reason, sometimes words, sometimes where they had come from or even their own names. They’d get stuck in odd cycles, like continuously bumping into doors, or never seeming to get their clothes on right.

This story needs a center so I suppose you could say some of the more juicy bits lay in a University, dubbed Universe City by some of our bored yet endearing subjects of discussion. Darkstar University to be exact. Home to strange and talented students, teachers, staff, etc. Most of which would be dead in a matter of weeks, but I suppose we have time to get to that.

We intend to fudge some names mostly to protect privacy I guess, names have an odd power especially in the places this path will dig into, but also for the sake of some humorous creativity. I don’t want to bore you with too many details about explicitly what they did in this place as there destiny’s are not so simple as to be narrowed down with too many fragile facts, but I suppose their general focus can at least be described. Martha was great at math, avoiding intimacy, and getting boys to do her bidding. Kristen was energized to a fault, there were usually ten topics humming in her head but she’d end up acting on twenty. She was oddly adaptable in an occasionally self destructive type of way, often letting her ability to rise to the occasion make her forget that there were ways to avoid trouble. Edgar was like a marksman more or less, eyes on the prize with excellent execution. This trait served him well in his academics and social existence. Galen was like evil incarnate and they all loved and were intensely suspicious of him for it. Cursing, fierce staring, and an almost instinctual need to harass his classmates made him a complicated member of the community to say the least. Manuel saw Galen as the brother he should have had instead of those so-so siblings he’d left back at hometown. If Galen was darkness, Manuel was the void. Generally speaking he was prone to disappearing even while he was sitting right next to you, skulking about territories and groups few would wander, as well as guising his humorous disdain for most creatures in hushed jokes and smiles that seldom looked entirely human, let alone natural.

They weren’t the most close knit of groups, not to start out at least, but that would change as things so often do when tested with cruelty and the unreasonable. They all happened to be lunching at the same table one day, which wasn’t completely common given their differing schedules as well as humors. Martha and Kristen tended to be close though they had plenty of emotional barriers around each other. Edgar and Manuel probably would have been best friends if they both didn’t have such hot love for Martha, though Martha seemed to prefer Edgar as far as romance went. Galen tended to bother Manuel whenever he was in sight, a thing the latter welcomed with devilish humor. Galen also seemed to have a mysterious way of getting to the root of Kristen’s emotional disturbances, something Manuel claimed had everything to do with them both being Asian, which may or may not have been true. Manuel and Kristen shared many classes and were generally like two peas in a pod, a synchronicity which often disturbed them and outsiders. Edgar and Martha shared a similar social environment which Edgar would ambush every now and then, so it was hard to say just how well they got along, though Manuel was pretty sure that Martha was at least a lot afraid of him. She was a tough girl though, so it probably didn’t show.

They were chowing down on the mess of protein, fruit, and other psuedo edible products like proper students at feeding time. Galen had a near death experience while choking on chips. He insisted it was a joke in a classic drooping monotone which conveyed how little he cared about the situation as well as life in general. Manuel was pretty sure he almost died right then and there, but it would hardly be surprising if he had simply come back as a ghost in those couple of moments of strange questioning. If there was anyone who could dismiss the afterlife as some halfbaked human fantasy even as they haunted it, it was Galen. Manuel also found it interesting to note that Martha made no motion to assist him as he writhed on the ground, though it wasn’t so bad as the many people he saw almost willing him to choke to completion from the surrounding tables.

So one brush with death later and the gang was discussing the current events of their nation which entailed riots without a voiced cause in their western territories, talks of setbacks in a bio implant which was supposed to at least double the human lifespan but seemed to be chopping it to pieces instead, as well as talks of a strange bookseries actually being able to inspire real magic in its readers. The last one nearly had Galen choking again but mostly because of his natural attraction to the destruction of the dreams/hopes of the ignorant. Manuel wasn’t so sure though, magic was pretty hot stuff.

They were interrupted by a somewhat unofficial member of the group Alessandra. Alessandra had a bit of a thing for Manuel, though his feelings on the matter ran more along the lines of wanting to do unholy things to her body in acts of ultra spicy sexiness. His advances were often rebuffed however due to her staunch religious stances. He had never hated god more, which was saying something because at this point they were like arch-nemisi. So as he lathered her in oils and spanked her, half tenderly, half fiercely in the recesses of his mental spaces, she blabbed on about something or another.

Alessandra was a curly haired latina with a lot more force of nature than people would credit it her with, still she seemed contently resigned to her delicate yet intelligent flower routine. She did not get along well with Galen, which just made his willingness to torment her that much more enjoyable. It was something along the lines of him being disrespectful, or abrasive, scary or some other strange silly flower girl word.

Alessandra was on pretty good terms with Kristen, though that may have had more to do with the amount of classes they shared. Martha probably felt overpowered by her presence though she’d never admit it and Alessandra saw too many of Manuel’s longing gazes in Martha’s direction to ever truly befriend her. She was there to spread word of the great god above, just kidding, she was there to remind them all about a some books or something they were probably supposed to be reading but would most likely just skim, well except Edgar and Martha, those overly diligent bastards.

More to the point, she absentmindedly mentioned a rumor which had begun to circulate through the school, someone had supposedly seen a large animal in the woods, and apparently the upper portion of the university had heard terrible roaring at night.

Galen chided her for her impressionable nature, which he assured her was do to her station as a woman. Manuel laughed while Martha and Kristen scolded Galen in turn and Alessandra got so flustered her face turned beat red. She often didn’t know how to deal with the emotions/humors of other people, so she just kinda sat there half frozen for most of the meal.

So yes, all well, all good, everyone was hooing and hawing, truly soaking up the student mode of existence. I’m sure it would have all made a couple of beautiful memories of the transition into adulthood, had Alessandra’s God not been in the mood for more old testament paths of interaction with his clay fashioned creations.

Somehow they all managed to find eachother again that night. Manuel had been trying to charm Alessandra out of her pants but instead she just put on her coat and went back to her room, though, if we’re being honest, she was almost convinced. Manuel was a spicy man. Dejected, he made his way to one of his usual nightly hideouts, a simple ledge of stone facing a bit of vegetation that might have been a garden had anyone actually cared enough to put in a little effort, but which served instead as a precursor to the daunting woods ahead.  As if his night couldn’t get any more heartbreaking, he just so happened to walk in on Martha and Edgar all but coiled about each other. Every flicker of fluids and skin pressed between them was like a millennium of madness and spiritual deterioration for him. For a brief moment he believed that he must have been mistaken about his location in space and time, and existed a brief, yet fulfilling era as a member of the Golden Khanate under Genghis himself. Sadly this shattering didn’t last, and he was thrust back into the now of watching the woman who should have been his true love, and the boy who should have been his best friend, crushing him into fine dust with every careful tender, lick and squeeze.

In truth He was probably three quarters set on murdering them then and their, but Kristen stalled their demise. She’d been out jogging, one of her many sports hearted activities, and honed in on their faint outlines in the darkness like a heat seeking missile. And what a heat it was, a scorching fire of sexiness and betrayal. Kristen was pretty good at sensing Manuel’s feelings at least when they weren’t about her, so she was probably pretty aware of the death like haze which had settled over him, though, bless her wittle heart, she rarely had the emotional stability to be of much help in his many crisi of the core.

“You must be dying right now.” Was what she said to him, wide eyed, frantically looking back and forth from the lovers, and the broken creature which looked vaguely like a human being. Her words and motions seemed to snap them out of their embrace, because Martha all but jumped out of Edgars Hands, smoothing out her clothes while pacing like a first time delinquent. Edgar looked embarrassed and proud.

“We didn’t see you guys.” Martha told them, turned far away from their eyes as if she could will them to find something more interesting in the dark foliage. Many a brutal second passed until Manuel finally spoke.

“It’s fine.” He said, in that cold inhuman rhythm of his he reserved for mortal enemies. To be honest they didn’t know him well enough to sense the severity in his tone, though they could feel the distance vastly expanding between them. Martha would probably try to manipulate him into, not so much forgiving her, but ignoring her inconsistent behavior later. She wouldn’t know that he was already planning their demise as they all stood their, in the full glory of awkwardness.

Galen popped up next, emerging from the woods like a demon from his den, he smelled of cannabis, which almost improved Manuel’s mood except he also saw the haunted expression behind his friends baked disposition.

“The hell happened to you?” Manuel said.

“Finally trip too hard?” Kristen added. She Manuel and Galen had discussed some of their more extreme experiences with hallucinogens and were prone to pseudo spiritual excursions in proper stoner fashion. They had once been walking to the dining hall to satisfy their munchies but had mysteriously ended up at the local gas station marveling at the wonders of candy, caffeine, and that hot chick behind the register. Kristen was becoming less and less shy about her womanly attractions.

Galen nearly Fell a couple of times as he sort of wavered through the weed haze, he took a second to look at all of them, shook his head, cursed the whiteman and finally spoke.

“I saw something terrible. Something just god awful. Like when our abominable friend wore a bikini to field-weekend.” Galen said. Field weekend was a friday, saturday sunday combination of outside seminars, circus manner of entertainment, hiking, and general wilderness survival training so that the school wouldn’t get sued if someone got ate by a bear. The abominable friend was a heavy set girl with an unkind complexion and one boob. When Galen first met her he dove behind a table and screamed for pitch forks and torches. It was pretty horrible but to his credit not as horrible as having to watch her waddle in that unforgiving heat fucking up everyone’s sense of beauty and art. Manuel was going to consider the weekend as a part of his wild awakening but the abominable one had turned it into an afront of his sensibilities and he would never forgive her.

“I’m an Afro-Cuban my friend, nothing would surprise me.” Manuel said, oddly enough feeling a pull of connection in Galen’s direction. They all got these types of feelings, though they weren’t always aware of it.  It’s probably what led them to meet in the first place. The Two began to sink, tilting their heads ever so slightly skyward watching where tree, building and air met sky, They both shook their heads nearly at the same time. Manuel sighed.

“Well I guess we had to die at some point.” He said.

“Why do you always say weird things.” Kristen said.

“Cause I’m a strange man, and white people are mean.” Manuel said.

“You have that there’s a mystery afoot, Look you get.” Edgar said. It was just like him, to be so sensitive and in tune even as they faced those upsetting cosmic humors.

“My HighGalen is a little rough, but if I’m not mistaken he believes that it may be our like moral duty or some other dumb human word to go and check out what’s over in that direction yonder. Don’t ask him though, because he probably won’t tell you as he dislikes affection.” Manuel pointed in a direction.

“Like how bad?” Kristen said, already donning her emotional armor like a proper little conqueror. Galen and Manuel looked at each other, than the latter turned to Kristen.

“I’m getting a ‘it’s a bad day to be a colored’, vibe from him.” Manuel said, he didn’t add the “especially with these two pasty bastards lagging behind us,” honorific.

“Do you guys like hate white people or something.” Kristen added.

“Oh Kristen, you poor poor asian-american fool.” Galen said shaking his head with sagely dragon refinement. We were pretty sure Edgar and Martha just heard barbarian grumbling.

“I hate everything at least a lot, like at least five/ninths.” Manuel said, crunching the numberz in that bitter heart of his.

“Dude, like not us right.” Martha said. Manuel gave her a quick once over, she still had a nice body.

“Don’t patronize me with your whiteness woman.” He said, turning back to the forest and embracing his inner beast.

“So we’re just going to go in there without like back up or anything.” Edgar said. Martha gave him an approving glance.

“Right, like shouldn’t we go get like the campus security or something.” Martha said.

“You overly responsible bastards, where’s your sense of risk.” Galen half slurred in their direction. Kristen and Manuel had already started walking, Galen was close on their trail, and those pasty bastards were lagging behind on que.

It was dark and any minority could tell you that that internal racial survival instinct was kicking in, hard, like black man 19-huneds, dirty south hard.  

Manuel was coming up with ways he might pin his worse case scenario on Edgar and Martha, as he was sure their whiteness would drive them to blame it on him, while his second worse case scenario kept him from drifting too far from the group. Kristen looked sturdy and fierce, so he hugged her flank.

“You’re always so strange.” She said.

“And You’re so warm and soft/strong at the same time. Like you smell delicious, what soap do you use. ” Manuel said soaking in her energies.

They stopped a few trees up the way. Galen began his contemplative pacing, the grace, the elegance of his khazanate-esc strides left them all in amazement.

“What remembered was seeing what could have been a couple of people tripping on them acids, like really transmitting off dis earth ands stuff. If it wasn’t drugs I remembered it might have been a couple of people like really just, bodies slamming, sweat flinging fucking, and fucking hard. When it wasn’t downright disgusting it was just astounding. Like watching animal planet.” Galen said.

“But now?” Manuel said.

“But now I’m wondering if it wasn’t just, a straight up monster. Like for real, a monster. Alessandra said it and far be it for me to get in the way of her mysticism. I’m not sure if Asian people are supposed to do spirit walks or something, but half our societal expectations are down right heinous, in the sort of comic book villain type of way…” He paused for a moment, “I almost forgot where I was going with that, but in all seriousness, I’m pretty sure I could remember how to spot a monster if I had to.” Galen said.

“Guys, please don’t exaggerate.” Martha said. She had that, assertive yet still worried tone of voice which Manuel recalled her often using to stop him from embracing his true savagery.  

“Well now Martha, give him a second, his people are like a decade from conquering this fine United States. I’m sure he knows a fair bit about things that could destroy Americans.”

“Why does it always come back to race with you guys. Well race with you, crushing spirits and yet lifting them up for him.” Kristen mentioned Manuel first and then Galen

“Oh, Kristen, you poor Asian-American fool” Galen slurred out once again.

“White man stole my dreamz. I’ll never forgive him.” Manuel exclaimed, in dark outrage.

“Can you dig it .” Edgar said , he was taking a poetry class and had been inspired by what he describe as the hard yet righteously vivacious spirit of the black female poet which matched their hair syllable for syllable.

“There, even now the white man thieves.” Manuel said.

“Hallelujah.” Galen said.  

“Right.” Manuel said giving him a firm black man handshake.         

  It was around this time that the monster showed up. If we’re being fair it is likely that Kristen gave a “Wait, what was that sound,” before everything really went terrible but she was always so vigilant, the lil’ scamp.

Edgar was the first to get clawed, and probably said something like “What” as his voice kinda drifted off into the distance. Like he got knocked the fuck out. Something Bit Martha, hard on the stomach, there was a lot less thrashing than Manuel anticipated, like it was trying to be careful.

Galen charged like a proper mongolian, but the beast crumpled him to the forest floor. Manuel and Kristen weren’t so much as stuck. Terrified yes but that put them in more like a numb sort of shiver. Like they could be anywhere in any forest. They could have been at the end of the world, sharing time, soaking in an eternity in each other’s existences, made more potent from death’s ever observant vision.

Manuel remembered them getting torn at the same time, if there is such a thing. He remembered Kristen’s skin parting like soaked styrofoam almost instantaneously before claw and fang reached his own. Half his chest was opened in what could have been a blink, it felt like molten earth.

In hindsight, he remembered something odd, through the smog of fear, the soon to be decaying bodies of his dear friends, and the general aura of hopelessness, he saw the monster a little more clearly. Manuel didn’t know what you might call it, others had called it a curse, others still, an extreme inconvenience. In fact the general consensus was that it was a terrible, ter’a’ble personality trait. Short story shorter he had a bit of a sense for the completely unusual and humorously dark solutions.

Manuel loved wolves. We won’t bore you with tender moments from his childhood or his generally adorable little serial killer feelings, but we will say the boy knew his lupines. It seemed like years of half hearted belief in wolf super culture had finally paid off, in a manner of speaking at least, because Manuel was able to identify their monster. It was, in fact, a werewolf. As far as introductions went though, this was hardly an enjoyable occasion.

So as Manuel and Kristen bled out on the ground as the wolf began to ever so carefully maul their friends, they both fell into a type of dreamy death hum about the legends and honor of wolves.

It would’ve been pretty rough to tell them , in this awkward moment of their demise, that this was far from the last monster they would see.

They woke up, oddly enough in Galen’s psuedo apartment suite thing. He shared it with like two other people but they were usually sexing it up in someone else’s dorm so it was all good. Their clothes from the last night were gone, but they’d gotten knew ones with their more essential items still present. Sweat suits and sweat pants seemed to be the group theme. Galen was slouched against the wall eyes half mast but physically he looked fine, far from the crunched thing Manuel had remembered seeing in the forrest. Well, if we’re being completely honest, physically they looked great. Their general expression was that of hauntedness, but their faces had a squared sharpness and their bodies rippling with peak lupine grace, as if they’d been cut from stone.

In short, although their lives were over, their existence forever altered, and their emotions would never be unscarred, they all looked like athletic sexiness incarnate. Martha was curled up next to Edgar, her shivering, and his sleeping breath haggard. Manuel would have had something to say if Kristen wasn’t resting on his chest, like a little death kitten.  So instead Manuel said this

“Damn you white god.” There was a fifth word but it got blurred out or something.

Although it would be terribly interesting to describe to you the rearing process of a couple of orphaned werewolves, we will stick to the bare essentials in order to keep this as straightforward as possible. The first couple of days are horrible, upon reflection it would not be impossible to see the awesomeness of it, but not knowing if you have to poop or if you’re just growing a tail is not necessarily super fun times. The change, shifting from wolf to man and so on, hurts. I suppose every clan and every legend has it’s tales but in general this is not something you would wish upon a person half heartedly. I suppose to give a more universal message, it would be like if your emotions got ripped out from inside and turned into a type of soul exoskeleton flesh thing. A process which in turn shifts the dimensions of everything you touch, and have or will interact with. Edgar made the shift first, but he was ever the far sighted one. Then Galen, who had the kindness to put on a humorous show of it despite how clearly it hurt. They soon found out that they shared in each other’s pain, how convenient. With that said, it should probably said that it is in our opinion that a werewolf’s existence is pain, and by no means for the faint of heart or spirit.   

Kristen went next and it appeared like she could shift the fastest, though she was always a quick study. Martha made a show of being patient, but they could see that she didn’t wish to, most likely, in Manuel’s opinion, because she wouldn’t think that she could know how to. So he took her hand like a proper gentleman, gave it a firm squeeze, as if it were her buttocks on a lazy saturday and they shifted together. He was just a hair slower.  

The orphan pack could not find that which had changed them, and after a while they didn’t really want to. They had had enough practice tracking and hunting to suspect that if it had escaped detection for that long it was either gone for good or waiting to find them when they were separated and weakest. The latter was by far the most likely opinion in their consensus.

The dimensions of a werewolf are choppy to describe at best, much of their existence is psuedo emergency response anyway. Millennia of biological tailoring boosted by the dark loathing of a magic folded beast. It was definitely not a house pet. On an emotional, physical level you could compare it to a lion or an anaconda. As far as saviness or cunning goes, they are stubborn but once they are sure of something or at least determined enough walls fall down like thunder. If the world was based on a virtual system or an Ideal system it would be big, hot blooded, strong, sharp, as well as an economy of electromagnetic force. The last detail they came up with after doing their homework together, go science.

Normalness was no longer an option outside of as a cover, which they were surprisingly good at adopting when they were together. Chances were, if you had a strong enough group, people didn’t question too many of your habits. Emotions, strong or weak, were hard,  feelings drifted through their almost invisible bonds like static pulses. They found themselves oddly drawn to one another even if they never intended to meet up, and the whole world seemed to just slow down around anyone who wasn’t pack, like they were stuck in an opiated time blur. Humans didn’t smell right, or they didn’t look right or something, like all their expressions were just a little off, like they fell right below the threshold of awareness necessary. The pack did enjoy their knew sexiness, but they soon found that the looks weren’t just for show. They were better, like scary lotus monk better. We will say this, learning works a lot better as a pack than on a purely individual basis. 

It was more than a little harder for Alessandra to find her way amongst the group, though they did seem honestly conscerned for her well being, but communicating between each other had become hard enough for multiple reasons. Trying to play human didn’t help their feelings any. Still they always found time to make sure she was looked after at least a little in some of the social functions, she was by no means abandoned.

The boys seemed to enjoy pretending to be her loyal knights, while the girls debated whether they should inform her of their bestial existence and or turn her themselves. They disliked the, not necessarily dishonesty, but emotional distance. They decided the former should be avoided unless absolutely necessary, and that the latter they could wait on until they had more knowledge on the subject as none of them were exactly sure how they had passed through deathly borders and come out whole-ish on the other side.

Kristen and Manuel discussed possibilities of nightmare realm distortion. Edgar described a study with quote, “quantum basketballs” unquote, which he found to be comparable to their own situation. This did inspire them to spend more time shooting hoops which did a lot for their pent up energy as well as their sexiness. Those fit sweaty bodies. Martha compared it to a “dance of frequencies” and was even in the process of drafting an equation to map out their “rate of shifting”. Galen suggested white man’s trickery to be afoot, which Manuel mysteriously also seemed to agree with, but he also, in his hushed yet contemplative manner suggested no matter what it was, it could have been a sign of stranger things yet to come. This sparked a conversation on the natures of virtues, omens and their deviations. The group, well pack at this point, began to discuss the possibility of their own association being a type of virtue and the humorous possibility of them existing in a virtual reality.

The males decided to have their own hierarchy and the girls decided to their own as well. It wasn’t so much a conscious decision but even in unconscious ways it wove itself into their conversation and manner of interaction. More and more they began to see how a strange nature could so thoroughly meld into or even overtake their so well cultivated personalities. If a reason had to be given as to why they did this, we suppose you could say it had something to say with the brutal practicality of survival. You could say that it’s a lot simpler to train with, as well as fight honorably with someone if you’re on the same page both emotionally and purposefully. It was strange enough to comprehend the inner wolf’s ways of binding their destinies without causing it unnecessary stress with their fragile human customs.

They were not sure as to how to adress the nature of their change. They had seen enough horror movies to know that complaining about the unfairness of a creature ambushing and savaging them would hardly move their inner spirit, albeit unless they were considering replicating the process. Galen had inspired Manuel to tell the group they might go about embracing their inner meanness, like really bullying out into proper villains. Oddly enough that actually got some interesting results. They compared their general patterns both mundane and occasionally extraordinary, and came up with a somewhat disturbing demonstration of their talent for practical evil.

Galen was sure he was actually a sleeper agent from some Korean Social Program built to awaken genes specifically geared towards interaction with the supernatural all so, wait for it, one could indirectly monitor traffic progression. Martha believed that their were probably a fair amount of wizards in her family, but that she was, actually an anti wizard bent on crushing their dreams. Edgar suggested he might simply be shape data given the illusion of conciousness based around actions that they did not take, and so he might simply be the fascimile of a human event. Kristen believed that she might of actually been hatched from an egg so there was a lot of rich material there. Manuel came to the conclusion he must have been a werewolf from the beginning and just went insane.

All in all by the end of this brain fire session they came to the conclusion that they had actually willed the wolf magic or bacteria or whatever to change them upon being presented with the emotional trauma of having witnessed a werewolf. Not because they wanted to, but because they needed to, they were in need of a change in perspective. And apparently so was the world.

The pack had noticed some of their peers acting strangely, though they couldn’t tell if it was regular human annoyingness or not. There were a couple of moments when they feared they would be ousted but they were false alarms. They did watch someone get eaten though.

It was dark out, the campus was pretty active with basketball fever, and that general party till you drop sense of feeling. Well, people did drop. It happened so abrubtly they could scarcely determined just what had happened until the deed was done. Three or four students turned and started eating one of their peers. Like really chomping down and giving them the business. The werewolves had eaten plenty of deer and other woodland creatures by that point but they had managed to keep human off their menu, not for lack of trying though. Most of those efforts belonged to Galen, and slightly less noticeably Manuel. All jokes of tasty looking thighs aside watching one of the people you kinda sort know...kinda sorta get chowed down like a lost donkey.

By the time campus security broke up the scuffle, not without getting a few scrapes and bites themselves, the pack was long hidden away in one of the buildings. They murmured amongst each other mentioning the look of absence in the eyes of the ghoulish attackers. They did a couple of perimeter checks their wing of the dorm before reconvening at their lounge. Most of the building was pretty quiet except for a few who couldn’t help but be shocked by the saveragery of the event. The pack humorously mentioned the irony that it wasn’t the bears they had to worry about after all, it was the humans.

Then the lights started going off and they realized that it wouldn’t be long before the campus was shut down. Well, in a manner of speaking they were right. Fast forward about forty minutes of screaming, frantic running, and creepy pack observation and the place was damn near a warzone.

It would seem that eating one’s peers was becoming something of fashion statement as ghoulish fiends seemed to be rising from every corner, chomping hear, groaning their, shuffling this way and that. The wolves almost felt a peculiar need to dance and jive in those monster hearts of there’s but they resisted as they were pretty sure they were not in an 80’s music video. Instead they marched, quietly, briskly, purposefully, and well armed with the most useful tools they could find. Galen had managed to run across a tomohawk, don’t ask us why, and he bashed his decaying fellow academics with it in sorrowful hilarity. Martha had russeled up some kitchen knives, Kristen had found a fire axe after breaking down the janitor closet door. It had been steel locked. One of the panicking humans had mistaken Manuel for one of the chompers and came at him with a bat. Manuel took it from him before beating him with it.

“Did you just kill a guy?” Edgar said.

“None of us are saints.” Manuel said holding the bat like it was his earthly instrument. Edgar had managed to pull a pistol off of one of the security guards. Things had been getting tense out west, so them being armed wasn’t a surprise. The gun was good but the walky talkies were amazing. They repeated the process and were rewarded with more portable communicators, flashlights, mace, batons, and stun gunz. Anything they couldn’t carry in hand or on their belts they put into their backpacks. They went to find Alessandra first, it was hard to find her scent among all the blood, chaos, and general fear that seemed to be permeating through the place, but find her they did. She was rapidly being surrounded by a group of the chompers, though a couple of stragglers were lagging behind and serving as a sort of distraction. Alessandra was buzy gouging out the heart of one of the ghouls with a large pointed stick. Her face was taut with primal momentum. She was fierce but they doubted she would have survived if they hadn’t gotten there. They killed some of the straggling ghouls, before gathering up Alessandra and a few other of their more familiar compatriots. Alessandra nearly took Manuel’s eye out with that stick of hers, but the brush with death heated his loins in such a way that he kept her that much closer on their march to the campus recreational hall.  

The more popular entrances were shut down either because of ghoulish overcrowding or broken systems. The pack had skulked out their own emergency paths though, suspicions of another drop in by their wolfy progenitor, and or more mundane crisi left them a little paranoid. Well we suppose it’s only paranoid if its unfounded so you could substitute the word with diligent. The Recreational Hall was part gym, part food court, and part arcade. If there were any interesting weapons to be found they would probably be there. They weren’t suspecting to find so many survivors.

Besides the screams of terror from outside, the occasionally random groaning skulkers, the bloodied clothes and vacant traumatized expressions it was almost homey. There were probably something like a good hundred survivors scattered around the slightly seperated territories, though with the way they were looking at eachother that could change at any moment. The wolves were beside themselves. On the one hand, there was an obvious security in numbers, but on the other hand too many humans in one place and things could get stupid fast. They managed to gather up some of their closer friends, but that didn’t mean they were staying, and every second of tension meant they were that more likely to wolf out and ruin any point of continuing their facade of normalcy anyway. Manuel was soaking up as much time with Allessandra’s hot lil’ body for as long as he could, and she seemed more than willing to embrace his rippling coils of muscle, as she shivered out the madness.     

The day droned on with sounds of fire crackling, the dead groaning, the humans sobbing or screaming, and general mayhem gradually seizing control. There were already a couple of scuffles between survivors inside the rec hall. A couple of people disappeared and didn’t come back so it was becoming clearer and clearer how fragile the peace was. With that said few could rationalize going back out to brave the undead horde. Gunfire stopped and started, and many were sure that the national guard had been called in and routed. Much of the technology had stopped working though some people had makeshift radios and some portable tv’s. Apparently it was like this around the west coast, and word was spreading that the phenomenon was eating its way in many corners of the world.

The wolves were in the process of discussing a decent escape using one of their vehicles, there were three between them, when a one of the walls caved in. Luckily it was on the far side of their conversation, unluckily the fiery breach was like a feeding bell for the ghouls he began to pour in without restraint. There was screaming, and clubbing, and trampling as death met the living, the wolves, almost unconsciously formed around Alessandra, as well as some of their more mundane companions and began ushering them to one of the exits. They had raided some of the food dispensers and so they probably wouldn’t be going hungry if they made it out in one piece.

The race was on, most of the dead seemed too distracted by the hysterics of the humans so they managed to avoid the brunt of the horde. The wolves set to work chopping down any ghoulish creature that got too close, while their friends tried to keep moving through what was undoubtedly one of the most traumatizing experience of their strange existences.

“You think we’ll laugh about this later?” Manuel asked, and received a very dead and judging stare from Martha. “What? You know I don’t get people.” He said making a homerun out of a shambling skeleton.

They reached one of the parking lots, which was hellish to say the least, It was still darkish out but the sun was creeping up, and no one really knew just how well those things could see, and no one wanted to play lab rat with the idea. They used the first car to shuttle some people around and form a barricade as they regained enough of their senses to start the things without freaking out and drawing too much attention. Despite the sense of shared survival the wolves were more than suspicious that if too many humans gathered around, the risk of general thievery would skyrocket. There were seven cars in play at this point, they had shuttled over more people than they’d expected, and the little caravan set out to escape as fast and as steadily as they could.

Many of the roads were blocked, either by felled trees, debris, the crashed cars of the spooked or attacked, or too many of the dead. The wolves doubted they’d ever truly forget the smell, horrid was an understatement, though all that exposed flesh did have them suffering occasional pangs of hunger, which only made them more disgusted.

They were beginning to put some of the screams and carnage of their school’s ruins behind them as their wheels tore down a mostly unused but accessible dirt road. Dawn was breaking and they hadn’t seen a large portion of the dead for a while yet. They almost believed they were in the clear.

Then something hit one of the cars. Martha had been posted as a type of watch with Edgar, so she was the first to see that thing, whatever it was, collide with one of the human filled vehicles. It was big, with what could have been horns and or wings, to be honest it moved too fast for her to really get a good image of it. Regardless, it took the car off the road with what appeared to be something as simple as a strong nudge. Wheels screeched, people screamed, another car swerved off the road in the panic. That thing roared, but before anything more could happen everything seemed to be consumed by a blinding flame.

The Survivors drifted in and out of fevered dreams and nightmares spawned by pain, when they woke up they were in something like a crater. The wolves could smell that something was wrong almost immediately, the air tasted stale with pungent flavors, like something beautiful had drifted by in their unconsciousness, died, and stayed dead for a long time. Edgar was able to put the feeling to words however.

“It feels inside out, like when we change except, it’s everywhere. Whatever it is.” He said. The Wolves nodded, but kept their eyes out for the humans, who still lay, mostly unconscious in the pit. The car the creature ran off was still there but the humans that were in it were nowhere to be seen. They feared they might have turned and were running around waiting to chomp down on them. Kristen searched for tracks but found none, they were just gone. The humans woke up groggy, but functional. Most were terrified but everyone was feeling that, they all managed to get in their cars and keep moving though. Something was definitely strange though, something about the way the road winded, as if it had gone untouched for more than a couple of weekends. Sadly it wasn’t long before they had to face the brunt of the strangeness which had befallen them.

They reached the next town to find it crumbling, nearly consumed by vegetation, and looking like it hadn’t had a resident in at least fifty years. The only problem was that more than a few of them had visited the place just a couple of days before and it had been thriving more or less.

“Does this mean we’re the new mystery inc?” Manuel asked.

“It means we still aren’t the most dangerous creatures out here.” Martha said.

“Yeah but we’re still pretty awesome, in an underdog type of way.” Edgar said.

“More like underwolf.” Kristen said rooting through some debris for anything useful. The caravan had decided to stop, investigate and gather more supplies. Most of the food was either gone or too decayed, the clothes were decent but worn by time in such a way that shouldn’t have been possible. It was only when Kristen sniffed out a more personal item that things got clearer, interesting, and so many times more heartbreaking. It was a journal more or less, some kids or something, and it detailed in painful detail the burdens of the undead phenomenon. However what should only have been, at most, a couple hours of writing were more like a catalogue of horror spanning too many years. The date of the last entry was what really sunk them.

“This says that we’ve missed a whole century.” Kristen said.

“That’s quite the nap.” Galen said.

“Beauty sleep wasted on the beautiful.” Manuel exclaimed.

“Would you two be serious.” Martha said.

“We could, but why bother, everyone we knew is probably dead anyway.” Galen said, and then they all sort of realized the bitter truth of his words. So much had been stolen from them with a couple pages from a notebook. They considered keeping the journal for themselves at first, unsure of how the humans would respond to so much trauma in quick secession, but if they started off with too many lies they’d most likely get buried in them. The journal was passed around, the many stages of grief were triggered like dominoes. One person tried to kill themselves and was just barely thwarted. Allessandra was looking like she might snap at any moment, which made the wolves gravitate around her a little more strongly, trying to push their magic, or aura or whatever around her. It seemed to keep her stable but they didn’t know how long they could manage something like that with a human, the energy wasn’t really built for them.

“We should keep moving” Galen said.

“What’s the point, nowhere to go, apparently we were frozen out of our own era, who’s left to even find.” Said Carter, a friend from their more human existence.

“We survived those damn ghouls, and whatever that beast was. Apparently we’ve also survived time travel, perhaps our chances aren’t so slim. At the very least we’re bound to find something interesting.” Galen continued. It was rare to see him so kindly empathetic, but he probably felt responsible for crushing their spirits, not necessarily that he should have been. Tears were shed, mild breaks into insanity were also indulged in, but eventually they decided to keep moving, which was good, because it was getting dark again, and the scent of death was not far.