#the thing about pets is that you can't wrap them in bubble wrap and keep them safe from everything

[roguemonsterfucker]

Sometimes losing a pet doesn't really hit me until I go to do my normal feeding routine and then they're just... not there.

I always checked where Panda and Half n Half (my guinea pigs) were when I gave them their dinner, so I could feed them on opposite sides of the cage so they wouldn't fight over food. But Panda's gone. Half n Half gets it all to himself. I just have to put food in one spot now.

I honestly didn't even realize that was what I was doing when I fed them. It was so habitual that I just did it without thinking.

Poor little Panda had a good few years left in him. But life has other ideas sometimes.

I've gone from having six guinea pigs to feed to just one in less than a year...

[cheolism]

BREAK AND RETURN

✰ — brother's-bandmate!minghao x f!reader ✷ — summary: last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires. ✰ — wc is approx. 5k ✷ — genre: 90s au, smut, fwb/fucking your brother's friend ✰ — warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it! yk it!), pet names (good girl, angel, etc), jealousy, possessiveness, and lust. backshots, off-screen masturbation, fingering and pussy-licking. lmk if anything else should be added :) ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: this is a part of @beomcoups's "now that's 90's" svt collab! thank u very much for letting me join the collab! i had fun chatting n interacting with new people ^-^ i hope everyone enjoys the fic!! thank you very much to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and reassuring me <3 tagging @idyllic-ghost and @onlyhuis bc i think you both wanted tagged but i can't remember, so sorry!!!

here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid. 

he knows better. he truly does. he isn’t some idiot stuck at a claw machine at an arcade, doesn’t keep feeding it his money while never getting any closer to winning a prize. minghao knows when to quit something, when to step away. 

that’s why he broke things off with you, after all. he had thought it would be easy. the two of you weren’t in a real relationship. you weren’t like tom cruise and nichole kidman – the two of you were just fucking. no strings attached. 

but of course there were strings attached. you’re the kid sister to his friend and bandmate, josh; at first minghao thought he would be fine keeping it a secret. he didn’t need to take you out on dates and show you off like you were the best thing since bon jovi. the two of you were content in each other’s arms, naked chest against naked chest, legs intertwined as you dozed off. 

minghao, however, wasn’t stupid.

he knew there were strings attached to the both of you. he knew that it was a bad idea, fucking his bandmate’s little sister. every time he kissed your warm mouth, he knew he was betraying josh’s trust. it wasn’t fair of him to to that to josh, and it wasn’t fair of him to put you, josh’s sister, in a position to lie to your own brother. 

so minghao took initiative and broke off the relationship. 

he wasn’t stupid, and he knew the first time he would see you after breaking up with you would be hard. he knew it would be. it’s hard for real couples, for couples that hold hands as they walk down the street and talk about what to name the cat they’re going to adopt. he had imagined it would be hard, to some degree, to see you. the two of you might have steered away from such topics as rings and shared apartments and other things that left the fantasy of forever in your minds, but he knew you. he knew how you sighed after he kissed the space under your ear, he knew how you looked fresh from the shower with your face shining from the heat of the water. he knew how you looked when you concentrated on painting your toes, how you looked when you begged him to see clueless at the theater because josh thought it would be stupid and you didn’t know who else to ask. 

he knew you, and perhaps that was worse than dating you. 

he knew you, and you knew him, and minghao isn’t stupid but he didn’t know that seeing you again would hurt so much. 

you look beautiful. you always do, according to minghao. you’re sitting on that old couch josh and him spent an hour trying to shove into the garage for their band practices. you’re wearing ridiculous clothes, baggy comfy pants and the ugly oversized sweater with the worn collar and checkers and stripes on it. you’re talking to soonyoung, hands waving excitedly as the two of you laugh. your beauty bubbles out with every breath of laughter, seems to radiate in your chest like a little star, and minghao knows that even if winona ryder was in the room with them he would still choose you as the most beautiful. 

you catch sight of minghao. you shoot him a grin, large and inviting, as if he hadn’t made you cry last week. you give him a little wave. “hi, minghao!”

and then you turn back to soonyoung, your knee pressed against his. 

it’s so ridiculous; he’s ridiculous. minghao feels his stomach twist, as if someone was wringing it like a wash cloth after doing dirty dishes. you’re beautiful and radiant, and you spoke two words to minghao before turning to soonyoung, as if minghao wasn’t anyone particularly special. 

he can’t help but stare at you. you lift a hand, and, in a move he recognizes as you flirting because you’ve done it to him when you want him to fuck you, you tuck your hair back behind your ear. you are wearing small pearl stud earrings and immediately minghao recognizes them as the ones he bought for you a year and a half ago, right before the two of you started fucking. 

you tuck your hair back behind your ear and soonyoung watches, his mouth parted a little, and minghao feels like he needs to punch something. 

“funny, isn’t it?” josh says, appearing at minghao’s side. josh runs his tongue over his lip ring, pulling at the sleeves of his plaid jacket. “it looks like soonyoung’s got a crush on my kid sister.”

“yeah,” minghao says, throat tight. he watches as soonyoung edges slightly closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours. you don’t move away. minghao wants you to move away, or better yet, slap soonyoung. 

minghao isn’t a violent person, either. he isn’t violent, nor is he jealous. but once he also had thought he was above the lure of lust, was above giving into the craving of needing your body against his, dick stuffed in your pussy and his mouth dominating yours. 

maybe you just had some sort of power over him that no one else did. maybe it’s like that movie practical magic, and you’ve placed a spell on him, bewitching him. 

“i think he’s going to ask her out soon,” josh carries on, as if he’s ignorant to the way minghao is one step from having a crisis. “i saw the drive-in is going to be playing jurassic park. i remember when it first came out and how much she loved seeing it at the theater. it’ll be a good chance for soonyoung to ask her on a date.”

minghao scoffs. “you know he’s scared of that movie. whenever we bring out the vhs he runs.”

josh shrugs. “if he likes her as much as i think he does, i think soonyoung will be fine.”

“and you’re okay with it?” minghao turns to josh, putting his back to you and soonyoung. “you’re totally okay with soonyoung dating your sister?”

josh shrugged, twisting his mouth a little in thought. “well. i think – i think he really likes her, you know? he’s not just gonna fuck her and leave her hanging around until he wants her again.”

minghao’s mouth sours, and he bites back a venomous remark. that’s what his relationship with you was like, wasn’t it? he has no place to try and insert himself between you and soonyoung’s blossoming relationship.

“you know how soonyoung is, though,” minghao says, despite himself. he folds his arms in front of him, drumming his fingers against his bare skin. he sees the little flower tattoo on his ring finger, the one he got after you spent an evening at his apartment drawing flowers into your lisa frank notebook with glitter pens. “he’s flighty. he’s never stayed with a chick longer than a month. what if he breaks her heart?”

josh hums. “i can’t keep her locked away in the house forever, hao. she’s grown. she can make her own decisions. and if that is soonyoung, the same soonyoung who refuses to drive without everyone wearing seatbelts and insists on someone holding his hand as he gets a tattoo, then i’m fine with that.”

minghao huffs. he walks away from josh, knowing that josh is right. you are grown and can make your own decisions. for a year and a half, that was minghao. you chose to go to his apartment, chose to get on your knees and offer your mouth. you chose to lay by his side, fingers gently tracing the vine tattoo that climbed up his left arm as minghao murmured about the future. for a year and a half you chose minghao, until he took that choice away from you. 

and now you were sitting at soonyoung’s side on an old, musty couch, laughing at some stupid joke. 

minghao grabbed his bass off of its stand, bringing the strap up around his neck. his fingers find the strings naturally, absentmindedly plucking out the beginning of u2’s “one”. on the body of his bass, down towards the bridge, is a strawberry shortcake sticker that you had gingerly pressed onto his instrument. 

josh joins minghao, calling back to soonyoung. jihoon and vernon come through the door leading to the kitchen, each of them holding a jolt cola. 

“finally,” minghao sighs, glaring at the two other men. “come on. practice started ten minutes ago.”

soonyoung stands from the couch, still talking to you. you’re looking up at him with a smile, eyes sparkling. 

“kwon soonyoung!” minghao snaps. he stops playing the bass, narrowing his eyes at soonyoung. “come on! just because you have all day doesn’t mean the rest of us do. why don’t you fucking respect the rest of us and stop flirting and get the fuck over here.”

josh sucks in a breath next to minghao but doesn’t say anything. soonyoung gives you a small wave, and then he’s jogging over. he glances at minghao, murmuring a small apology. 

minghao doesn’t care. he’s watching you. you lean forward, elbows on your knees, tilting your head and eyes on minghao. your sweater – that overly large, horrible sweater – is loose at the collar, and as you lean forward the hole widens and gapes and falls, giving minghao a view of the valley between your tits and the top of your black silk bra, and all that skin above it. 

and he remembers. minghao remembers what it was like to press his mouth to your skin, to hold your tits in his hands and feel their weight and warmth. he remembers being between your warm thighs, remembers how soft your body was and how he always seemed to sink into it. 

you stand. “well, i’ll leave you guys alone so you can practice.”

minghao watches as you leave, the hem of your sweater covering your ass. he remembers you walking from his bed wearing an overly large nirvana shirt, how the hem tapped against your ass as you walked away and to the kitchen. 

and here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid. 

he broke things off with you. he isn’t with you anymore, doesn’t have the privilege of getting horny and jealous of you. he doesn’t get to act on his frustrations when he sees you taunting him, when he sees you getting your petty revenge for breaking up with you. you’re stirring something up with soonyoung, and he doesn’t get to veto that, doesn’t get to act as if he has any say in your life. 

after all, he’s the one that made sure he wouldn’t. he’s the one that made sure to draw the line between the two of you. 

practice starts, and minghao is somewhere else entirely. he gets the order of the songs mixed up, starts playing basket case before live forever. he loses all of his picks and has to borrow from vernon, and his mind keeps slipping back to you. 

an hour passes like that, with minghao not really there. he’s between your thighs, face pressed against your pussy; he’s in your arms, heels digging into his back as you urge him to go deeper. he’s everywhere but there, everywhere with you. 

eventually minghao loses another pick, and josh sighs from the front. he goes over to the speaker and dials it off, frowning at everyone. “i’m thinking we should take a break. we’re not doing our best, and everyone seems really scattered right now. let’s break for supper and come back and really put work in.”

the others nod, turning off their instruments or, in jihoon’s case, setting down his drumsticks. “we need to get focused,” jihoon agrees, serious. “we’re not going to keep maintaining gigs if we’re fucking around like this. we need to be serious about what we’re doing. we need to be bringing our everything to every practice. none of this bullshit.” 

josh nods, setting his guitar back in its case. his case, just like minghao’s, is decorated with stickers you’ve slapped on. besides strawberry shortcake there’s lisa frank, rugrats, pokemon. there’s squiggly lines and smiley faces and flowers, all the signs pointing to you. 

“honestly,” joshua says, voice grave, “if, by some fucking miracle, the black rose calls back and says they want us to perform for them, i’ll have to turn them down.”

soonyoung protests, brow furrowed. “come on! this is just one practice we’ve fucked up. it’s not like we’re always fucking around. let’s just take a break, clear our heads, and come back at it. this isn’t something that needs to be repeated or stressed over.”

“i’m thinking about a triple decker pizza,” vernon says, prompted by no one. josh rolls his eyes, grinning, and the band begins to split into groups for food. 

“where you wanna go?” soonyoung asks minghao. he’s blinking innocently at minghao, completely ignorant of the absolute sin going through his mind. he doesn’t know that minghao thought about punching him only an hour ago, doesn’t know he’s been fantasizing about the way your thighs felt under his fingertips while fumbling his fingers over the bass strings. 

“i think i’ll just run home and grab something,” minghao lies, setting his guitar on its stand. soonyoung pouts, nodding. 

minghao lingers behind the others, lying to josh about misplacing his keys and promising to lock the house behind him. you were doing your homework, josh said, and he didn’t want you to be disturbed. 

minghao waits until soonyoung, whom always seems to be the last one to leave, pulls out of the driveway with vernon jamming out in the passenger seat beside him, and then he’s moving. 

he knows the way up to your bedroom as if it was his own. he goes up the carpeted stairs, past the various pictures of you in flouncy dresses and huge bows as babies, past the awkward family photo with you and josh pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, wearing matching sweater vests. he flips on the mickey mouse lightswitch at the top of the staircase, and then he’s opening your bedroom door. 

your room is your sanctuary. the bedroom walls are painted a soft lilac from your childhood, covered in posters from spice girls to nirvana and aerosmith. there’s beanie babies hanging over your mirror, a troll doll on your dresser. your room is littered with comics and cd cases, all of your cds stacked in small piles around the stereo. you’ve got backstreet boys playing from your stereo, and minghao doesn’t even have it in him to make a comment about it. 

meanwhile, you – 

you are on your bed. you’re still wearing that sweater, but that’s all. your blankets are on the floor, pillow stuffed underneath your hips. your entire lower half is bare, one leg extended out and the other bent. the room has the faint, barely-there smell of cunt, and it’s more intoxicating than any drug. 

you meet minghao’s eyes sheepishly, hands smoothing down your thighs. “missed you,” is all you say, fingers slowly dragging across your thighs and towards your center. 

minghao is across the room in record time, pulling off his bomber jacket and throwing it to the ground. “we don’t have a lot of time,” he says, hands pulling up the hem of his shirt to zip down his pants. “the others just went to eat.”

“then you better hurry,” you say, eyes sparkling. you don’t make any comments about him stumbling back into your bed after breaking everything off. instead you spread out your legs, your hands making quick work of your sweater and bra, and minghao falls onto your bed. 

“i’ve prepared,” you say as he settles between your thighs. he can’t help but run his hands over your skin, treasuring the feel of your skin beneath his. this was his favorite place on earth, he realizes; between your thighs, skin to skin. 

“you’ve prepared?” he echos, raising a brow. you nod, biting down on your lip. “been waiting for me, is that it?”

“you or soonyoung,” you say, grinning at him. 

minghao scowls at you, pinching your skin between his fingertips. “shut up,” he commands you. “don’t wanna hear you say his name ever again.”

you laugh at him, reaching out. you lace your fingers around his neck, bringing his face down to yours. you press a quick, close-lipped kiss to his mouth. “sorry,” you say, voice still light and giggly. “couldn’t help it.”

minghao growls, and then he’s lacing his hands in your hair and smashing his mouth back to yours. he pries open your mouth with his tongue, delving in and reclaiming that familiar space. he can’t believe he’s gone over a week without kissing you – it’s a sin, he’s sure, to not kiss you and have you whimpering underneath his touch. it’s a greater sin to not kiss you than it is to be kissing his friend’s little sister, surely. 

he sucks at your bottom lip, moving his hands down your thighs. they’re sticky on the inside, no doubt from when you prepared yourself earlier. when he moves his hand deeper between your thighs it’s wetter, warmer, stickier, and he thinks that this is a heaven of it’s own. you sigh against his mouth, and then he’s ducking his head and moving his body, mouth slipping from yours and skimming down over your chin and along your throat. 

you whine, and he can’t help but chuckle against your skin. he suckles at your throat. you open beneath him so wonderfully, it’s a wonder he was ever able to separate from you at all. 

minghao moves down your body, kissing each and every spot he missed. the top of the valley between your tits, the skin of your shoulder. he mouths at your nipples, slipping his hand up between your legs so his fingers brush at your pussy lips. 

you shiver beneath him. he laps at one of your nipples with his tongue, fingers dipping and sliding your cunt. he doesn’t apply any real pressure,  just content with teasing you and hearing those whines and moans he missed. 

“hao,” you groan out, fingers moving to his hair. you tangle your fingers in his locks, pulling softly. “hao –”

he shushes you, and then his fingers are slipping into your cunt. you moan out, head tipping back. he slips two into your hole, biting down at his lip as your pussy contracts around him, trying to suck his fingers in further, desperate for his touch. 

your cunt is hot around his fingers. it’s not as tight as it would have been if you hadn’t prepared, and it’s easy for him to slide his two fingers down to the base, brushing his fingertips against your core.

“fuck,” he sighs, pressing his face against your stomach. he breathes in, inhaling your scent. you’re so wonderful. you smell wonderful, feel wonderful. he wants to devour you; he can’t imagine why he ever left you. 

he slides his fingers from your cunt, drawing a high whine from your lips. minghao clicks his tongue at you, and then he’s pushing three fingers in. you shudder, cunt clenching so tight around his digits that he can’t move. 

“easy, baby,” he mumbles, his free hand going to your leg. minghao pulls your leg over his shoulder, nose pressing against your thigh. he can feel your skin against his eyelash as his breathes you in here, too. “gotta be easy and good for me.”

you let out a long breath, eyes sliding shut. your cunt loosens around his fingers, and as a reward minghao moves down further between your legs. he presses his face to your cunt, the smell of your pussy surrounding him. 

he knows he should hurry. he knows his band will be back soon. but that doesn’t stop minghao from running his tongue along your clit, doesn’t stop him from tasting this part of you. he missed it so much – missed your cunt, how it smelled and felt and tasted. 

your thighs clench around his head, but he continues. minghao scissors his fingers in you, not focused on stretching you but instead making you feel good. he laps at your lit in broad strokes, and then he’s sucking at your little bean, a loud squeal escaping your lips. 

“quiet!” he hisses, though he feels his lips twitching up at the corner. he does it again and again between licks of his tongue, feeling your body shake beneath his and little sounds of ecstasy escape your lips. 

“hao!” you whine out, fingers digging slightly into his scalp. “gotta – gotta hurry, josh –”

you couldn’t manage a full sentence, high moans and squeals escaping your mouth and interrupting your words. but minghao understood all the same, and he was pressing one last kiss to your pussy before he withdrew. 

he wiped his hand off on the sheets, and then he was pushing his pants and boxers down to his knees. he fisted his shirt with one hand, raising it and keep it away from your soaking cunt as he moved close. 

you plant your feet on the bed, tilting your hips up for him. you’re so good, he thinks. you’re perfect. and you’re his. 

minghao pressed the head of his cock against your cunt, watching as your entire body seemed to freeze in anticipation. you were so ready for him, so eager. you were biting down at your lip, eyes large and watching, and minghao couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t feeling the same way. 

he crowded down over you, releasing his shirt and moving his hand to cup your face. minghao rolled his tongue into your mouth, the noises of your wet mouths meeting making his cock throb with anger.

he fucked into your cunt, a deep groan escaping you. your pussy was tight, despite preparation, but warm and wet and minghao slowly slid deeper and deeper. your body took his cock easily, as it always had, and he knew that the two of you were meant for each other. 

“hao,” you moan out, lashes fluttering. you speak against his mouth, breath hot. “feels good, hao. want it. missed you so much, hao.”

“i know, baby,” he mumbles, hand sinking into your hair. he slides until his cock is buried as far as it can go within you, your pussy clamping down on his cock. he wanted to move, wanted to immediately begin fucking you. instead he held back, hand twisting in your hair. “i missed you too.”

you bite at your lip, and then you’re tightening your legs around his waist. minghao takes this as permission, and he begins drawing his hips back. the slide of his dick against your walls feels so good, feels perfect, all slick warmth that makes his toes curl and eyes flutter. 

he can’t believe he left you. he can’t believe he ended this. he’s so fucking stupid – 

minghao fucks back into your cunt, and it feels like coming home. he begins setting a slow, deep rhythm that makes you arch up around him, mouth wide and eyes pinched shut. he just looks at you, takes in the shape of your mouth and your lashes, just looks and adores you. 

his hand moves from your hair to your ear, and he traces the shell of your ear as he grinds into you. he follows the curve, adoring. he thumbs at your earlobe, just touching you, when he touches that pearl earring. 

and minghao thinks back. he thinks back to how you had tucked your hair behind your ear for soonyoung, how you had acted all cute and coy for him. how you had taunted minghao. 

his hips slow to a stop, and you whine for him. for a moment he just focuses on your earrings, staring. 

“you’re such a bad girl,” he growls out, and then he’s slamming back into your pussy, the sound of skin hitting skin loud. you cry out, startled, and then he’s setting a punishing, brutal pace. 

“you’re so bad,” he hisses, hand moving down to your throat. he doesn’t choke you, just places his hand against your throat. “teasing me like that with soonyoung. so fucking bad. wanted me to get jealous, didn’t you?”

you whimper, eyes rolling back as he fucks you. each thrust into your cunt is wet and loud, and he fucks you knowing that you’ll feel the ache hours later. 

“wanted me jealous of kwon soonyoung,” minghao murmurs, and he’s ducking his head to bite at your neck. you cry out, cunt tightening around his dick. he bites and licks and sucks, marking your neck as his. 

because you are his. he was a fool to think otherwise. you’re his and he’s yours, and he’ll show kwon soonyoung. 

minghao pulls out – you whine – and he flips you around. minghao moves to his knees, pulling you up and back so you’re on all fours. he enters you with a rough thrust, and then he’s resuming his hard pace, chasing out each sting of skin slapping skin, seeking that pain-pleasure. 

“you’re mine,” he says, hands tight around your hips. he watches your ass jiggle with each thrust, some animalistic urge to take coming over him. “you’re mine, angel. fucking mine and no one else’s. got it?”

you nod against your pillows, arching your back and pushing back to him. you fuck back onto him, meeting each thrust, and minghao can’t help but feel satisfied. 

as if you’d ever do this for kwon soonyoung. as if you’d ever let him fuck you like this, as if you’d ever give yourself over to kwon soonyoung as eagerly as you do minghao.

“you gotta cum,” minghao commands, slapping at your ass. you cry out, fingers twisting in the sheets. “gotta cum around my cock, baby. milk me.”

he reaches down, grabbing his shirt and pushing it up out of the way. his fingers slip into your cunt, fluttering around where the two of you are connected to grind down on the gummy area surrounding your clit. you whine, and only a couple of thrusts later you’re tightening around his dick. 

“that’s it,” minghao says, biting down on his lip. “gush around my dick, angel. come on, cum for me.”

your moans rise in pitch as you cum, and he fucks you through it. he fucks into your pussy as it quivers, fluttering around his dick. once you’re finished, whining from oversensitivity, minghao pulls out of your pussy – your warm, tight, delightful pussy – and fucks into his hand until he’s shooting out warm stripes of cum, painting your back white. he feels fuckin amazing, adrenaline and lust and something he can’t quite name rushing through his veins. 

he pants, watching as his cum taints your skin. you’re so beautiful like this, stained with him. he says as much, rubbing his hand over your ass and back. 

a car honks from the street. minghao curses, and then he’s flinging himself off of the bed. he grabs his bomber jacket, hesitates, and then quickly wipes himself down. 

“i’ll wash it,” you promise, and he ducks down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your mouth. 

“good girl,” he murmurs, moving to press a kiss to your temple. “such a good girl for me.”

he darts for the bathroom after leaving your bedroom, flicking on the goofy lightswitch. he looks in the mirror. he looks – well, he looks like he just spent the last half hour fucking someone. 

but not just anyone, he thinks, grabbing his shirt and flapping it to try and get some fresh air against his skin. he spent the last half hour fucking you. 

vernon looks at him weirdly as he hands minghao a few slices of pizza. “been busy?”

minghao shrugs, pressing his hair back from his face. “went jogging a bit to try and clear my mind of all it’s shit. need to bring everything to practice.”

vernon looks like he doesn’t believe minghao, but vernon, also, doesn’t care. so minghao watches as his friend grabs a soda from the fridge. “cool,” is all he says, and then vernon begins slurping at his drink. 

soonyoung enters the room with his own pizza, setting it on the counter. “i made sure to get some you like,” he says to minghao. 

minghao feels, slightly, like he should feel guilty towards soonyoung. soonyoung, after all, has a crush on you. and minghao just fucked soonyoung’s crush. 

then again, minghao thinks, it’s soonyoung’s fault for getting a crush on you when you spend every other day getting your brains fucked out by minghao. 

joshua enters his house with a large grin, holding a plastic cup in one hand. “you’ll never fucking guess who called.”

“president clinton,” soonyoung says, raising a slice of pepperoni pizza to his mouth. “wait. better yet. monica lewinsky.”

“no,” josh says, “cut it out. i’m talking about the fucking black rose club! they called! and they want us for next thursday!”

“well,” minghao says, a grin taking over his face. “it isn’t a friday or saturday performance, so the club won’t be too busy.”

“but it gets our name out there,” josh agreed, clapping vernon on the back. he looks so sincerely happy, lip ring glinting in the artificial light of the kitchen. “we’re getting on the map.”

minghao raises vernon’s soda in salute towards josh before drinking it and handing it back to vernon. “things are looking up,” minghao says.

minghao isn’t stupid. he knows they’ll need to work their asses off for the next week in preparation of playing at the club. he knows this is only one step on the mountain of success, only one step towards their goal line. he knows he’ll need to talk to you, sincerely. he knows he’ll need to apologize, knows he needs to explain everything. 

yes; minghao isn’t stupid. 

but, he thinks, watching as you come down the stairs, fresh from a shower, he is awfully lucky. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Pets

Hardersson x Child Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Rocky the Rock

"Morsa," You say one random day off," Why does Sam have Helen?"

Magda looks up from where she's working on her laptop. You're sitting by the coffee table on the floor, cross-legged as you make your farmyard animals enact something that really reminds Magda of the book Animal Farm which is a little disconcerting but she's trying really hard not to focus on.

"Huh? Helen the cat?"

You nod.

"Well, Sam's got Helen for companionship. Helen's her pet cat."

That makes you frown a little bit. "Why?"

Magda shrugs. "Some people want a pet to keep them company. Some people have cats like Sam, some people have dogs or hamsters or other little things."

You go silent for a moment, you head bobbing up and down in a nod. "Okay," You say," Can I go play outside now, Morsa?"

Magda leans back in her chair to look out the window. It was meant to rain later on today and she didn't want you to get a cold but, thankfully, the sky is clear.

"Do you want someone to kick a ball at you?" Magda asks as she helps you slip on your coat.

"No thank you, Morsa," You say, practically vibrating to be let out," Just going to play."

"Okay. If you get hurt, yell and I'll come out, alright?"

"Okay!"

Magda types away at her laptop for a while as you play in the garden. Every so often, she drags her eyes up to check on you but you're just poking around in the gravel.

When Pernille comes home, you're still there and Magda is still typing.

"Where's Princesse?" Pernille asks before she drops down to steal a kiss.

"She's outside," Magda replies," Hey, Pernille, what does it mean when a kid starts asking about pets?"

"What?"

"Well, she was asking about why Sam has her cat. I said it was for companionship."

"Magda," Pernille says fondly," I love you so much sometimes."

"Sometimes? Not always?"

"You know what I mean. You're so oblivious sometimes."

Magda frowns. "Huh?"

"She's planting the seed in your mind," Pernille explains," So when she asks about getting her own pet then it's not out of nowhere."

"But we can't get a pet!" Magda says," We're moving soon!"

Pernille laughs. "She's probably angling for one when we go back to Germany. She's very smart."

"It's sneaky! Oh my god, are we going to have to start buying pet food?! And vet bills! I don't think there's a good vet near our new place and-"

Magda's mouth snaps closed as Pernille rests her hands on her shoulders. She's giving Magda a pointed look tinged with amusement.

"Magda," She says," Calm down. We're not getting her a pet."

"Oh." Magda blows out all her air. "We're not?"

"No. We'll be much too busy and Princesse's still very little. A pet would just add stress onto everything."

"But she wants one."

"And I want a three course meal and for Sam's whole existence to stop being a threat to Princesse's wellbeing but I'm not getting any of that anytime soon."

Magda laughs. Her hand reaches for Pernille's hip, dragging her closer until she's comfortably sitting on Magda's lap. "I can make you the meal. I'm not too sure I can help with Sam though. I can wrap Princesse up in bubble wrap though."

Pernille smiles. "You're so sweet, Magda." She cards her fingers through Magda's hair, leaning forward to steal a kiss like she did earlier. "You're such a good mother."

Magda rarely gets embarrassed about these things but with Pernille's weight in her lap and you playing in the garden, there are no interruptions. Her face flushes red at the compliments.

"The perfect mother for our little girl," Pernille continues, littering kisses all over Magda's face," You and her are so alike."

"I think she's more like you," Magda can scarcely gets the words out as Pernille bites at her earlobe.

"That's only because you're so oblivious. You and Princesse are more similar than you think."

"Well-"

"Momma! You're home!"

Pernille looks over Magda's shoulder to see you. Your hands are covered in dirt like you've been digging around in the flowerbeds again and you're pulling off your shoes, throwing them onto the floor.

"You look like you've been having fun," Pernille laughs," You're all dirty."

"Only a little," You say, wiping a hand on the front of your shirt," Where's my googly eyes?"

Magda frowns. She'd been preparing herself for you to ask about a pet, not about your arts and crafts supplies. "Er...Should be in the toy box."

"Thank you!"

You run off without even giving Pernille a hug, though she's secretly grateful for that because your hands look to be caked in dirt.

Magda sighs. "Is she going to start sticking those eyes on her shoes again?"

"I hope not. She nearly had a breakdown when they fell off last time."

Neither of them get an explanation about what you're doing with your googly eyes until way after dinner when you stand in front of them sitting on the sofa.

Magda takes a deep breath.

This is it.

It's time to completely break your heart.

"Sam has Helen as her pet," You begin," Morsa says Helen's for companionship."

"Pets are a lot of work," Magda says quickly, wanting the soften the blow," They take a lot of care."

You frown, your crinkle appearing between your brows. "Even the little things?"

"Even them," Pernille says solemnly," The little ones a very complicated. You have to feed them and clean out their cages."

You nod along before," That's okay. I've got one that doesn't need feeding."

That alarms Magda and she remembers how you were poking around in the garden all day. She wonders if you've managed to dig up a mouse or something from the dirt.

Pernille also looks suitably alarmed and her eyes immediately dart to where your hands are hiding behind your back.

"Princesse," She says slowly," Have you brought something into the house that you shouldn't have?"

You shake your head. "He is my pet," You say.

"Princesse-" Magda begins before her mouth hangs open in shock.

"His name is Rocky," You say proudly as you hold up a little granite rock from behind your back. You've stuck a set of three googly eyes on it. "And he is my pet."

"That's a rock," Magda says.

"Yes. Rocky the rock. My pet."

"Pernille, that's a rock."

"I can see that, Magda."

"I found him all by myself," You boast, puffing out your chest," I saved him from the cold and gave him eyes so he can see. He's my pet and he's going to sleep in my bed with me."

Magda can do nothing but stare with an open mouth as you show off your new rock.

"Pernille," Magda manages to whisper as you fawn and coo over your new rock," She dug up a rock."

"Yes, she did."

"She wants to sleep in bed with it."

"Yes, she does."

[yuri-is-online]

(Scatters more Aceyuu birdfeed for the lovelies)

Imagine, when Yuu awoke in Twisted Wonderland, they didn't even have their own clothes--they were in the ceremonial robes--at best they're (probably) given a janitors uniform from Crowly when they first meet Ace. Fast forward a day or so when Ace decides to camp out at Ramshackle for the first time and he really sees your situation. You're not some nutjob and their badly trained pet who broke into the school, you are in trouble.

Cut to Ace finally moving back into his dorm after Riddle's overblot and Ace is going through his stuff (to make sure his roommates didn't mess with it) and he finds like, an old pair of pyjamas he doesn't really wear anymore. This shirt is pretty outdated fashion-wise too. And he has no idea why he packed this pair of shorts for school either! They could go to a good home, he supposed, before bunging his unwanted hand-me-downs in a bag and setting off back to Ramshackle. Trying to ignore the first signs of a pitter-pattering heart as he watches your face light up with realisation when you pull out his old clothes from an old sports bag. He knew you needed clothes but seeing how much this meant to you? Yeah, Ace is gonna be doing all sorts of things to take care of you now to keep that smile. And don't get me started about how he got butterflies the first weekend he went to see you and you were wearing his (ill-fitting) clothes!

After Book 4, Ace has another suitcase of "charity clothes" from home (if Yuu is fem presenting, then he might've asked his mum for her hand-me-downs so Yuu would have some more "girly" clothes, if that's what they want) only to come up short when going to deliver them too you as he sees Deuce wrapping his old leather jacket around your shoulders, or Jack giving you an old cardigan that you're just swimming in.

He can't help but feel betrayed, in a way, seeing you accept clothes from your other friends. Logically speaking, he knows you're not in a position to be turning down charity, but the sting of losing what felt like just a you two thing hurts. He's sulking and petty and got this stupid suitcase sitting in his room for weeks while he pouts, glaring daggers at Deuce for the betrayal (Deuce is just confused, he was just helping a homie stay warm since there's snow on the ground. Jack is at least aware of the connotations but likes returning the shit Ace sends his way).

Eventually it bubbles up to one day, when the group are studying in Heartslaybul, Deuce forgot his noted in his room and Yuu offers to grab them, noticing the suitcase they bring it up to the guys and Ace squirms as Deuce mentions how Ace brought it after winter break and hasn't touched it since. Everyone badgers him for what's in it and Ace won't admit it infront of everyone else there, you gotta get him alone so later on, Yuu broaches it again and he admits its more clothes but he felt stupid seeing you get more from everyone else (he plays it off like "didnt want you swamped with stuff you didn't want" or something) but Yuu perks up, asking what he brought and if he still wants to give them to them. Maybe accidentally admitting they still mostly only use Ace's old pj's because it smells like him because his stuffs just more comfy and they like his stuff more.

Something something small fashion show for Ace something something this got a lot longer than I intended uwahhhh.....

If Ace could go back in time he'd probably punch himself for all the comments he made before he started using his goddamn brain and LOOKED at your situation he would, but he can't so he instead does what Ace does best and looks out for you while pretending he's not doing that at all and does not care.

But the problem is of course that Ace does care. You open the door in his clothes and it really doesn't matter what you're saying anymore. He's forgotten why he's here, actually, instead there's a hum in the back of his skull that he likes. He likes seeing you in his pajamas, he likes spending time with you. Ace will never say it out loud, in fact he denies it every chance he gets, but he likes spending time with you and Deuce. The other first years are fun, and he likes the basketball club, but the two of you are the best use of his time. He doesn't even think about the others maybe wanting to help you out because he's the one who takes care of you. Not Deuce or Jack, him. Maybe he spends winter break thinking about you and going through his things. Maybe he has to hype himself up as he takes his duffel bag back because his mom teased him just a little too much about things running in the family.

Deuce giving you a leather jacket breaks something in him. Ace thought Deuce would have been drowning in attention based on the bad boy appeal alone and that jacket just cements it, even if the blank look his glares get sort of soothes the jealous ache somewhat. "Don't be rude Ace! No one likes having to rely on hand me downs-" Juice is so fucking stupid he doesn't know why he bothered being jealous. Jack's a different story though because on the one hand he "hates" the idea of appearing vulnerable but on the other hand there is a chance to dunk on Ace just waiting to be taken and that has to make up for temporary embarrassment. He could probably get Leona in on this too if he spins it the right way, wouldn't that be funny? Fine, Ace will just keep his things to himself since you... probably don't want them huh. Yeah, sure he swears you always wear his pajamas but that's because you don't have other clothes. You've got stuff now you don't need him. He's not the only person taking care of you... oh well!

When Yuu asks him about the suitcase he plays it off. "Just some extra stuff, you know. Parents am I right?" When everyone leaves he teases you about it because he's embarrassed and he needs to take it out somewhere.

"You really thought of me?" There's a look on your face that renders Ace speechless. "Thank you... I. You really didn't need to but if you have something similar to the pajamas..." You were wearing the shorts tonight. Come to think of it he hasn't seen you in Jack's shirt much. Deuce's jacket was meant to protect against the snow so it's not like he can

"You can have it." He mumbles, looking off to the side instead of into your eyes. "It's not like they weren't meant for you I just forgot about it you know?"

Maybe he'll buy you something next time, no one's done that yet right?

[thefiery-phoenix]

I have a request if that's OK can you do Yandere class 1a(romantic) (and Yandere eraser mic platonic ofc) x reader with powers like starfire or raven

Sure and I'll go with the reader having powers like Starfire if that's okay with you and I sincerely apologize if this sucked

You were a part of class 1A and over a period of time, they started growing obsessed and possessive of you so much that you weren't even allowed to hang out with students from the other classes. To say you had powers was an understatement, you were basically a walking weapon with your abilities of being able to fly, shooting laser beams from your eyes and hands, superhuman strength and agility. You aced the UA entrance exam like it was nothing and left everyone awed and speechless of your powers. You were soon sorted into class 1A after you received your acceptance letter and you became friends with your classmates, unaware of their darker masked desires and hidden intentions for you

You were book smart but when it came to figuring out the intentions your classmates had for you, you were quite naive indeed. The other day Monoma, TetsuTetsu and Kendou wanted to hang out with you and you agreed to hang out with them, when your classmates found out about your plans to hang out with some other class instead of them, they were annoyed and their jealousy bubbled inside him. They usually couldn't stand each other at times, each of them wanting to have you for themselves, however during times like this they were forced to work together. "HAH!? TF DO YOU MEAN HANGING OUT WITH THAT BLONDE RAT!? NO WAY!" yelled Bakugou as he muttered profanities and cursed under his breath while threatening to blast Monoma to the orbit. Uraraka, Momo and Mina had resorted to trying to guilt trip you by telling you that you barely ever hang out with them and you wanted to spend time with other people instead of them. Even the usually calm Deku and Kirishima had dark looks plastered across their faces, looking deep in thought while Iida was busy lecturing you as usual about how you shouldn't ignore your classmates when they wanted to spend time with you and besides, you also had homework to do and started listing out every possible reason why you couldn't hang out with the class 1B students

Eventually you ended up giving in and decided to have a movie night in the common room with your classmates since they just wouldn't stop with the incessant pestering. You don't know what it is they've done, but they've done something for sure since no one from class 1B decided to approach you the next day. Even Monoma kept his distance from you and scurried off in the opposite direction as your spotted a few scars on his face and hands which your dear classmates may or may not have caused. They won't allow anyone else to steal you away from them, you're theirs. From hanging out with Shoji and Koda and playing with Koda's pet bunnies to helping Sato bake his goodies and doing homework with Iida and Shoto to going shopping with the girls, you feel like your classmates are monopolizing your time way too much but you can't really do anything about it, how could you possibly prove that they're in the wrong for wanting to spend time with you?

Your teachers are of no help either whatsoever, Aizawa sensei and Present Mic think it's a GOOD thing your classmates are so protective and possessive of you. They're worried you might become reckless one day and your powers might end up hurting you which is the last thing they all want, so it's like a mutual silent agreement and understanding between them to keep an eye on you and protect you. Even if they have to get their hands dirty. Aizawa and Mic see you as one of their own kids to take care of and they take that role VERY seriously. The other day some random dude actually had the GUTS and audacity to try slipping in a love note into your locker while Aizawa was passing by and his eyes narrowed as he wrapped the guy in his scarves and gave him detention for the rest of the semester every day. If someone dares to make the mistake of bullying you, Mic would be the one to deal with that by using his quirk on them to make their eardrums literally BLEED till they apologize

Now, about your powers, it's a tricky situation. As much as they all love you for who you are and how capable you are to take care of yourself, they're also worried you might end up getting hurt one day because of them. No way in hell would Aizawa ever give you strenuous training tasks despite your whining and pleading, you could get hurt. They ALWAYS have eyes everywhere and they know your every move no matter what. Some of your classmates have literally resorted to stalking the living daylights out of you and you're still unaware of the secret cameras placed in your room, courtesy of Iida when you both had that study session a few days ago. Your every movement is now watched by all your classmates and your teachers as well. They don't even realize they're doing something wrong and they're lost so far in their delusion, they think they're just doing their jobs as good heroes in protecting you, their loved one and keeping you safe

Denki, Kirishima, Sero, Hagakure and Ojiro think your powers are cool but the rest of them are really worried for your safety. You always get lectured by Iida whenever you end up doing something risky and Deku would just be pleading with you to never do something like this again while Bakugou would lovingly insult you to knock some sense into your head. You are NOT to be fighting villains, they've all established that already and made that rule VERY clear. If there's a villain attack at some point, you'll be taken to safety because they do not want you engaging into such dangerous stuff. Look, you might have strong powers and you might be a good fighter but that still doesn't mean they'll let you fight villains and criminals, you'll always be seen as someone naive and sheltered in their eyes, someone they need to protect from the darkness of the world. But not to worry though, after the villains are dealt with (Or probably murdered), Aoyama will comfort you with cheese, Momo will make you some tea and Jirou will play some of her music for you as you'll spend the rest of your time surrounded by your classmates once again, your teachers pleased with the turn of events of the extreme lengths your classmates are willing to take to protect you. What sort of heroes would they be if they can't ensure their loved one's safety after all?

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 75)

(Migraine... all I could stomach writing today, apologies.)

“I don't like the sound of that…” Uzi deadpanned, scooting to the side of the bed as N sat on the edge, his legs looked like they were about to give out, and he buried his head in his hands with a sigh.

“I'm just gonna send you the pictures…” He sounded defeated, like he was lost in the middle of the sea. And when he turned to her his gaze was heavy, his other hand petting over his daughters back as she slept.

The pictures came one by one, each one making her core fall into her stomach, a pit opened up to the hollow core, eating it out from the inside like a fetted rot, tendrils snaking up trees and dragging them into a gaping maw.

“Well… thats… an issue.” Is all she could say as she went through he small series of photos he'd sent, memorizing them and putting them through her processors to try and come up with some kind of solution. Panic bubbling just under the surface.

“Y-yeah, yeah it is.” N breathed out, rubbing his own arm as they continued to sit in silence, N felt dread crawl up his throat as he watched his girlfriends core, thier unborn child visibly changing the color. And he gulped, pushing down the lump in his throat.

“H-how far away is that?” She asked slowly, her voice in a forced sense of calm that even N could pick up on, even so, her calm demeanor made his own nerves settle the slightest bit.

“35 miles according to V.”

Uzi fell silent again, messing with the ball joint on her hand as he saw her continously scroll through the pictures on her visor. Her face contorted in an unreadable expression. He heard her fans kick on higher, taking in more air as she sat.

“That's… not a lot.” She hummed after a moment, before he saw her close the images and pull up something else that he couldn't make out from his angle.

“It's… whatever it is, is too big to just burn… from the look of it, it's the same thing that was under Doll's bed… any explosive would aerosol it… and who knows what that would do.” She thought aloud, pulling up more things on her visor that he didn't recognize.

“You're not… uh… freaking out?” N asked, giving her a wary, almost distraught smile.

“Oh no, I am. This is like… an end of the world scenario.” She held up her hand, which on closer inspection, was trembling.

“But… I'm tired of panicking… and no good solution will come if I just freak out.” She explained, taking a deep breath as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“Right, you're right.” He shook his head, trying to clear the deep seated fear clinging to his processors. “So do you have an idea? This thing spreads fast.”

“If we can't kill it… and it's spreading. Then we need to evacuate.” Uzi's voice came out slightly shaky, and one of her hands came up to grip her core, feeling her own core-beat… and a slightly smaller, much more important one.

“There's no way off the planet… you couldn't fix the pod.” N interjected, wrapping his tail around his mate instinctually, Uzi winced at first, the dream she just had coming to the forefront for just a moment before she relaxed into the gentle squeeze.

“And even if I could, we'd be leaving everyone else here to die…” She finished softly, breathing out in vain attempt to keep thinking, and not fall into panic, panic was easy, but ultimately would work against them.

Keep Thinking.

“I couldn't fix the pod on my own it was too damaged and frankly whoever designed it was an idiot.” She genuinely hated that thing, it was like it was designed to break into a million peices at the slightest hint trouble.

“But maybe if we could reverse engineer what's there we could make our own way off the planet? I couldn't do it alone but… all of us. Workers are pretty efficient at mass coordination, heh.” She made a goofy finger gun that was half-assed and incredibly nervous. “Still we'd have to get everybody on board…I know there's not a lot of us but… it's not like anybody's gonna listen to me.”

“It's the best plan we have. So we have to try right?” N grabbed one of her hands looking tentatively hopeful. A plan was better then no plan.

“It's a long shot… even if we can get everyone to work together there's no guarantee that we'd be able to make something that will fit all of us in time.” Uzi squeezed it back, before looking over at Tera still sleeping, though kicking a leg in her sleep while squeaking softly.

N followed her gaze, the two parents looking at their sleeping toddler before looking back at each other.

“For her. We have to try… she won't have a future otherwise.”

Next->

[mrs-b-heelshire]

Brahms headcanons p.2

Just some more things I think our lil boy Brahms would do with us

SFW bits (8 points)

❤︎ I will admit I don't know how it would work but I can see him growing comfortable enough to allow your friends round, he'd be nervous when he first meets them because he doesn't know how they would react to him but when they treat him like they've known him for years he gets comfortable around them, he wouldn't take off his mask that's only for you

❤︎ he still doesn't like when men talk to you or put their hands on you but he will start to notice how you don't let the hugs last long and you only properly hug him, if you notice he is getting uncomfortable with a male you will stay close to him touching his arm or playing with his hair and telling him he's the only person in the world for you, he will adore this and it will make him want to steal you away

❤︎ he starts to notice your jealousy, if a woman hugs him or keeps finding excuse to touch his arm he will see the flash of anger in your eyes and he absolutely loves it, he wouldn't push anything I.E touching the women back or letting the hugs last too long but he would always look at you when he knows the women have done something you hate, he would always come over to calm you down and later he would let you prove he is yours and only yours

❤︎ if you have done something to make him mad he will go back to his old room in the walls, he will sit and sulk, going over what happened in his head a hundred times over, if you go and find him he will ignore you, he still doesn't know how to properly deal with his anger so he disappears so he doesn't say something that would hurt you, to calm him down all you have to do is apologise and kiss his mask softly, he will instantly melt because he missed you so much

❤︎ if you get sick he will shower you in affection, he would make you food and make sure you're drinking enough but if you start to puke you are on your own he can't do the sound or smell of it, he would try of course but he would always end up leaving quickly stopping himself from heaving, he would still kiss you even when you tell him not to because he could get sick as well but he will always say he doesn't care

❤︎ when he is sick, he is a giant baby, he will whine and complain about everything, he will not want you to leave his side for anything even if it's to get him food/drink, if you do leave, he will shuffle after you wrapped in a blanket telling you to come back

❤︎ he dislikes baths, you can't figure out why, he likes to be clean but baths will always be a battle, he will hide in the walls to avoid them but once he's in the bath it will be a long battle to get him out, he likes when you add bubbles and the little rubber ducks you got him to try and get him to like baths, he will always try and find an excuse on why you should join him in the bath, going as far as splashing you then saying "well you are wet now get in"

❤︎ you caught him playing the piano when he thought you were still outside doing the laundry, you stand by the door to the living room and just listen to him play, he's relaxed when he plays, he gets shy when he catches you watching him but will play for you if you ask him to because he loves to see your smile

NSFW bits (5 points) DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR

TW's: praise, pet names, kink, denial

❤︎ after a while you notice he wants to be dominant more often, he likes teasing you then denying you release, he likes when you beg him and whimper when he stops touching you, it reminds him just how much you desire and want him

❤︎ when you started to put on little outfits for him, he was confused at first, he didn't want you to feel like you had to dress up to get his attention but when he saw you in one of the outfits and his cardigan he picked you up and pinned you to the nearest wall and made you see stars

❤︎ he caught you one day in his mask, you couldn't help it you got too curious, he stared at you for a while before walking over to you, he lifts your chin, so you are looking at him, his eyes are scanning the mask, he kisses the mask softly before telling you to get onto the bed

❤︎ he has come to love the holidays because of you, Valentine's day, Xmas, Halloween. he loved how you wore themed outfits to surprise him, Halloween was his favourite, you have shown him horror movies in the past and he obviously loved them so when you would walk out of the bathroom dressed as a sexy version of a slasher he liked he'd instantly be on his knees for you

❤︎ there are times he will still get shy when it comes to sex, he will start to overthink, thinking he's not good enough or not doing it right, you can always tell when he gets like this because he is less touchy with you, you can try to reassure him with words but what works the most is randomly going up to him and begging him to fuck you, if that doesn't seem to be enough, whimpering and putting his hands on your body will work, it will instantly push away any doubts he had when he sees how desperate you are for him

❤︎ he loves to worship your body, he will always kiss every inch of you when he gets the chance, he will take his time kissing, caressing, and nibbling all your sensitive areas, he will want to drive you insane, he will love the sounds you make when he makes every inch of your body overly sensitive

❤︎ he loves when you get into one of your hypersexual moods, he will do anything and everything to get you going, he will whimper and beg, he will beg you to touch him, to kiss him, he will beg you to let him make you feel good, when you say yes, he will let you have complete control, telling him how and what to do, he will do it all

[dufferpuffer]

Ok anon from before here, you fully convinced me about lupin and tonks, makes total sense to me now and I love this interpretation! It also make lupin kinda a fuck boy with is pretty funny to me lol

Oh yeah. Remus doesn't sleep around the thought of intimacy terrifies him - but he has always been weak to the whims of others: either people-pleasing or running the fuck away. But he can't run from Tonks. And he doesn't want to. Shes so cool and nice and understanding and fun and gets him, really gets him...

IDK how old you are, I hope 16+ or whatever age of consent is where you are But have you ever like... gotten in a relationship with someone where you can just lose an entire weekend laying in bed with them...? Or a friend where you don't hear from them for days when the BF/GF is over - and you know they aren't doing anything much? Like Ryoji Kaji and Misato Katsuragi (Evangelion) when they were in college. A week of just smoking and snacks and sex. 'Oops I forgot to go to class again today'

That's the framework of Remadora and I don't take otherwise lol Picture this: Remus is weary after a bad Full Moon. Fatigued on a couch, groaning pathetically, wrapped in a blanket, bones hurt... He can't run from Tonks doting on him when she has time off: Fetching water, sprinkling snow on his feverish head semi-playfully. He tells her not to bother, to go do something else... but she is Tonks.

She is sweet and cheeky and charming. She is stubborn and bubbly and gentle... when he is at his worst she always cheers him up. Everything he does is right when its with her: Every joke he makes lands, every story he tells is interesting - she makes him feel like a professional flirt... somehow. How intoxicating it is, to have someone understand you effortlessly, to not have to work to feel accepted... No lies are necessary. No manipulations work. No masks fool.

Of course they end up close. Uncomfortable? Come to bed. She can probably even carry him there. Cold? She can warm him up. Snuggle up. Cut up and bruised? She can do ancient magic: kiss them better. He hurts? Well... there's easy ways to distract from the pain: He doesn't need to do much to be petted and sucked off. To relax.

And god - he feels guilty, as always. She's doing so much for him. So they kiss, they fuck - its easier to have sex when the pain is numbed a little by adrenaline and dopamine and a desire to please. ...And when the emotional high wears off he cries. He is MORE guilty. What has he done...? Has he just made a huge mistake again...? Tonk's doesn't think so - so she cares for him more. Soothes him. But that's how these things start.

Sex until they're both tired and dizzy, until they lay together sore and nap... waking up to chat, to talk about feelings and worries. Tonk's gets up to get him some water and makes herself a 'recreational' potion with her excellent Auror potion skills.

Remus doesn't do that sort of thing, but since she made it he takes a mouthful or two. Reminds him of the old days with his friends. He tells her Peter's was stronger, back in the day. Perhaps an addition of Shrivelfig...? High, giddy, comfortable but sore - they chat about what Hogwarts was like in the 70s, what it was like in the 80s... laugh about Severus as a student and as a teacher... talk about their houses, their common rooms, their friends... the differences between the two wars.

And they have more sex. Over and over. They keep interrupting each-other with affection, with touching and kissing and nakedness. They forget themselves. They forget the world. They aren't Remus Lupin the scarred Werewolf or Nymphadora Tonks the Auror: they are just together. They are their pasts and their present, their thoughts and their feelings and their heat and their sleep. Being together is just as comfortable as being alone... moreso, even.

They don't even notice it's been three whole days since they have had a proper meal. Since anyone else has seen either of them beyond a half-naked dash for a snack. Remus thinks he has been sneaky, that nobody knows. They know. (They just care less than he thinks they will - he thinks they will judge him, but all they wish is that he was quieter or used a silencing spell.) But eventually Rems recovers enough from the Full Moon to be useful again - and Moody needs Tonks to like... work.

The world becomes heavy again. Remus wonders what the hell he was THINKING... pulling a promising Auror from her mentor for so long, wasting her time with him like a couple of layabouts, risking infection - he knows his spit isn't contagious outside of the full moon but it still scares him. No. No no - while he has his health he will go and be as useful as he can - and push her away, till she forgets about him. But it hurts. He is addicted. Every night he curls up and wishes for her body heat with him, soothing his worries, numbing his thoughts... But he is toxic. Perhaps if he died in glory she could move on...

...You know. Like that. Remadora.

[autisticrosewilson]

Feel Better

Connected JayGrant pieces from an AU where Grant moves to Gotham after he runs away from home. Content warning for implied/mentioned death (Felipe Garzonas, Jason's, and Grant's), Needles, drug use??? It's Grant taking the super soldier serum but the parallels are there, Grant has some mildly sexual/possessive thoughts about Jason, nonsexual intimacy, angst because what else do I write, and very vague timelines. Mentioned JadeRoy/Jade is pregnant. Roy's addiction is also mentioned in passing. Underage drinking + Grant trying to initiate things while he's drunk but Jason doesn't let him. @perseus-jackass IT'S DONE I'M FINALLY DONE

"Thank you, Miss Montoya." Jason grins, the polite fake one he wears at parties that make all the old ladies coo and pinch his cheeks.

Grant tries to keep his focus on not putting too much of his weight on Jason, lest they both fall over.

Jason seems to have no such problem, dragging Grant along with an ease that he might have questioned if he were sober. As it stands, he thinks it's really hot.

"I'll make sure he gets home safe." Jason promises, still sweet talking even though they're off the hook, have been since Jason strided over with that pinched expression and started scolding him about being out so late.

It's amazing how much preconceived notions can affect your judgement, how quick the officer is to glance over all the signs that Jason had certainly been at that party too.

He doesn't blame her, Jason is a very good actor. Fuckin' nerd.

They're far enough away now that Jason has dropped the ploy, although he still seems a little annoyed. Grant wants to kiss the pout off his lips.

"What part of 'Scatter! The police are here!' didn't occur to you?" He complains.

"Was tired," Grant whines, "'sides, you saved me. It's all good baby." He grins, goofy and delighted.

Jason's cheeks flush the same way they always do when Grant calls him one of those "cliche" pet names he always complains about.

"Well, next time I might not be there to save you." He huffs, mostly giving up on scolding.

Grant hums, puts more of his weight on Jason that his boy just takes, rests his cheek against Jason's curls and tries not to make the fact that he's definitely smelling his hair obvious. Seems to fail by the sound of Jason's put upon sigh.

Grant wants to hear him make those noises for other reasons.

"Course you will," he lets his voice drop to a lower register, bites back a grin at the little shudder it earns him, "m not lettin' you go anywhere. You're stuck with me." He promises, leans down to press kisses to the parts of Jason's face he can reach. His forehead, the curve of his cheek bone, the corner of his lips.

He wonders if he could taste the rum and coke he'd managed to coax Jason into sipping, wonders if he could make Jason taste like fireball just by kissing him. Wants so bad to try but Jason cups his face gently, brushing a thumb over his jaw to stop him.

"You're drunk, Grant." Jason tries to convince him, firm but not unkind.

"And?" Grant says distractedly, wrapping his arms around Jason's waist to pull him in.

"You can't...make decisions right now." Jason tries again, squirming against him to try to escape the hold, doing the very opposite of making him want to let go.

Grant thinks that's a moot point. He always wants Jason, he thought he was pretty clear on that front. Maybe he needs to show him? He leans down to pull Jason into a kiss that tastes like cherry coke and bubble gum, chases it with his tongue to work cheap vodka into the mix, almost falls over when Jason detangles them.

"Time to get you home." Jason insists.

Oh right, Jason doesn't like when Grant tries to get them a public indecency charge. The press would explode if they caught Gotham's golden boy swapping spit with a nobody degenerate like him.

He huffs, let's Jason heft him along, doesn't realize he's scowling until Jason is pressing sweet little kisses to his jaw and nose and forehead. He melts, losing his previous train of thought immediately as he tries to chase after Jason's mouth. Jason swats him away with a laugh that Grant wants to taste. A cycle that repeats all six blocks back to Grant's apartment.

Jason gets in easily and Grant doesn't even wonder how he got a key.

"You comin' to bed, honey?" Grant teases sweetly, crowding Jason against the door the second it closes.

Jason fixed him with a fond, stern look, and ducks beneath his arm. "Go change, I'll bring you something to eat." He urges.

Grant strips to his briefs and goes starfish mode on the bed. Jason snorts when he walks in, water bottle in one hand and a bowl of fruit in the other.

Jason hand feeds him, at Grants insistence, he smacks Grant lightly whenever his tongue darts out to catch the juice on his fingers, looks a little more like he wants to smother Grant's unrepentantly salacious grin with every passing second.

Grant could definitely make an innuendo out of all this, but Jason might actually leave.

Instead he catches Jason's hand gently and presses a kiss to his palm, bringing it down to splay on his chest so Jason can feel his heartbeat. Watches how Jason softens and gives to the pull, climbing up beside him to replace his hand with his head, arm thrown around his waist.

"Don't suppose you'd be willing to strip too?" He murmurs.

"Maybe tomorrow if you ask real nicely." Jason snorts.

"I ain't good with manners." He doesn't care to keep the southern drawl out of his voice, mentally notes the way it makes Jason's breath hitch.

There is a silence where Jason's lips are pursed so tight Grant knows he's keeping back a remarks that wouldn't befit Jason Wayne.

"I'll be here when you wake up, if you need to be taught." Is what he says eventually.

Grant grins tangling his fingers in Jason's curls, resists the urge to pull just to hear the sounds he'll make.

"Love you too, Jace." He mutters and can't help the laugh at the way it makes Jason bury his face in Grant's ribs to hide the flush that's creeping up to his ears.

He's not gentle, but he could be.

Grant thinks he is, and Jason hopes he never figures out the truth.

So he smiles placidly when Grant offers him the cigarette, "I don't smoke." The anymore goes unheard, because Jason Wayne would never smoke, or draw blood with his teeth or try to steal the tires from the Batmobile.

Grant doesn't know about Jason Todd, not entrenched long enough in the socialite circles of their peers to know anything about Jason's before. This is a mercy, rare as those are. There is nothing to obstruct the sweet, dull thing that he has made of himself.

"Course you don't," Grant grins, crooked and mischievous and nowhere near as sharp as he pretends it is, "the world might stop turning if Gotham's golden boy was caught doing something so uncouth." It's more self-deprecating than mocking, convinced that he's the worst thing Jason has ever done. It's cute, but mostly sad.

Jason stays quiet, let's Grant believe that he's the bad boy between the two of them. Hides his sharp teeth behind a soft smile, keeps all the molten anger that coils in his gut at bay, where it can't hurt anyone.

He's not soft, or sweet, or good. But he wants to be, and he's done a good job playing the part so far.

Grant blinks awake to the sound of his window sliding open, immediately on high alert. The person enters gracefully, if panicked, and the first thing his sleep blurred vision makes out is the bright yellow cape falling over their shoulders, the second are the blank white lenses of a domino mask.

Robin, undoubtedly. Although Grant can't fathom why he'd be here.

He's never actually seen the hero up close before, although he swings past Grant's window every night and he's on the news often enough.

He'd always looked small next to Batman but on his own- well he's still pretty small, surprisingly scrawny too, with dark hair that curls.... distinctively.

"Grant..." Robin trails off and he knows that voice, although he's never heard it sound so small.

"Jay?" He scrambles out of bed, sheets tangled around his legs as he struggles to get across the room. Jason doesn't look hurt but that doesn't mean anything. He could be- Grant doesn't even know. Jason is Robin, he faces Gothams worst every fucking night.

First things first, getting Jason out of the rain soaked Robin uniform. He must be freezing, it's amazing he hasn't caught a cold yet in those tiny shorts of his.

He could have internal bleeding or broken bones or he could be dosed with something or, fuck, what if there's magic involved? Grant doesn't know how to handle that. But Jason came to him and he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

(Grant will shove all the feelings that come with thinking about them down very far for as long as he possibly can.)

"Are you hurt?" Seems as good a place as any to start.

Jason shakes his head despondently. Grant vaguely knows that look, the same one Joey had when he woke up in the ER, dissociation the doctor had said.

"...Is someone trying to hurt you?" Grant keeps his breathing even, tries to keep the anger that sparks at the very notion out of his expression.

(Jason can probably see it anyway though because he's fucking Robin, holy shit.)

Another shake of his head that has the tension reluctantly bleeding from Grant's shoulders. That will need to be good enough for now.

"Okay- fuck, alright. Uh, let's, let's get you a bath and then into some dry clothes." He breathes, tries to keep all of the many, many questions at bay. Guides Jason to the bathroom with a gentle grip on his hand.

First he peels the wet gloves off, they're not as rubbery as Grant thought they'd be and the pads are rough, probably for better grip. Then he unlatches the ridiculously bright cape and lets it pool on the floor, soon joined by the red tunic and the surprisingly heavy utility belt, until Jason is just in those little green shorts that Grant is still definitely not thinking about. They quickly join the pile and it's easier than he thought to avoid looking at anything below the waste because-

Jason has so many scars. Maybe more than Grant himself. He probably should have suspected that, but the idea of anything getting close enough to hurt Jason, to dig into his soft skin and leave a mark, still sends a wave of revulsion rolling through him that steals his breath away. His breath catches and he practically picks Jason up to settle him gently into the tub, still only a quarter full of water. He makes the executive decision to squeeze half the bottle of vanilla honey bubble solution into the water, watching the foam build and spread.

Jason brings his knees to his chest, resting his head atop them as he levels a blank look at the tile. Grant swallows thickly trying to blink away the image of a different boy, scrawny and despondent with tear rimmed eyes.

He makes a mental note to introduce Joey and Jason one day, can't help but think they'd like each other.

He cups his hands beneath the water, brings up a handful of suds that he lets cascade down Jason's back and shoulders, presses a kiss to the back of his neck at the visual shudder that wracks his body.

Even the rain water in Gotham is tainted with murky pollution that tints it slightly. Grant rakes a washcloth down Jason's arms and is reminded of those dish soap commercials with the baby birds after oil spills. Has to bite back the grin that threatens to quirk his lips at the thought because Jason might think he's laughing at him.

Grant hadn't even realized when he stopped making jokes at Jason's expense, when he stopped using jabs just a little too mean to be friendly to protect himself. When he'd stopped making jokes about him and started making jokes for him, because his smile drives the Gotham smog away in an instant and his laughter rings like birdsong and church bells.

The realization makes his hands shake but he doesn't stop the easy, repetitive motions. Gently coaxing Jason out of his ball so he can work away at the grime with gentle scrubbing.

"I killed someone." Is the first thing Jason says to him after going on 20 minutes of silence.

Grant's breath hitches, mind scrambling over the words, before he exhales. Thinks of how to comfort someone whose hands have just been soaked in blood for the first time. Metaphorically. He chances a glance back to the Robin uniform, still clean aside from the rainwater.

"I don't regret it." He adds absently, still staring at the wall. "He deserved it Grant." Jason finally looks him in the eye, fierce conviction and panic, but no guilt, no shame. "He- what he did- they just let him go! And she couldn't even- sh-she-" he breaks off into sniffles, eyes becoming glassy and cheeks flushing with distress.

Well, there goes that issue. Idly, Grant thinks that Jason is pretty when he cries. Feels a flare of jealousy that it's because of someone else, breathes past the possessive anger. Acknowledges the guilt all of this brings and then promptly shoves it all down.

He's not important right now, Jason is.

"I believe you." Is what Grant says out loud, steady and firm. Jason isn't who Grant thought he was, but he'd still like to think he knows him well enough to know that he wouldn't do something like this if he didn't think it was necessary.

Jason looks at him, analysing, searching, with the kind of intensity Grant used to brush off. (He wonders what Jason knows about him, how much he's seen because Grant didn't know how much he had to hide.)

He seems to find what he was looking for, he sniffles and then lets himself lean into Grant. It's a little awkward with the cold edge of the tub between them, wedged in their sides, but Grant doesn't mind.

...Does Jason need help hiding the body? Did someone see him? Is someone looking for him? Does he need somewhere to disappear-

"What do you need from me, Jay?" He murmurs, chin resting atop Jason's wet curls.

Jason shudders, stays silent for a moment. "He won't let me be Robin anymore." Jason whispers eventually. "He- B won't- he'll kick me out."

The root of the problem then. There's a lot of implications there that Grant can't hope to unpack right now. "Do you wanna stay with me?" He's already thinking of the logistics, would Batman try to put him in jail? Grant doesn't think so, that would put his identity in question. So he can probably keep going to school without worry but just in case Grant should probably work on a new identity for him, not that he thinks for a second Batman would be fooled. He's fucking Batman.

"...Just for the weekend?" Jason asks, as though he's worried Grant would turn the request down.

Honestly, he's more upset that Jason is planning on leaving than he would be if Jason told him he was moving in tonight.

"Whatever you want." Is what he voices instead, because Jason has never done well with being ordered around.

Jason relaxes with a bereft sigh, tension bleeding out as he trusts all his weight to Grant. He takes it, pays no mind to the water seeping through his clothes, continues his task of washing away the gunk that Gotham has left on his boy.

"My mom's alive." Jason repeats numbly.

Grant stares at him blankly, still clutching the bowl of cereal that's already starting to turn soggy. "...is that a good thing?" He squints at Jason like the action will let him read him better.

"I don't know." He admits. "She's not- not the woman who raised me. I don't know her name but it starts with an S. Found my dad's phone book. Apparently he...knew a lot of interesting people." He explains.

"Are you going to find her?" Grant guesses, he doesn't look particularly happy about it.

"Hopefully. There are three potential candidates but them being in my dad's phone book doesn't really mean anything." He shrugs. "It's the best lead I have though." He tries to sound a little more determined than he feels.

"and if you don't find her? If it's a dead end?" Grant urges, fingers curled tight enough around the bowl Jason worries for a moment it will break.

"Then I come back here." He swallows thickly. "If you'll let me." He can't bring himself to meet Grant's eyes.

The bowl gets set down on the table and Grant closes the distance between them. He intertwines their fingers, brings the back of Jason's hand to his mouth to press a kiss there that makes something hot and fluttery squirm in his chest, makes his face flush and his eyes dart up to Grant's.

"I'll leave the window unlocked." Grant grins, sweet and promising. A safe place to land.

"I'll be home soon." Jason promises.

Grant can't look at the picture of him and Jason together. Happy and together and alive. They'd gone to the arcade that day, Jason had ditched his uniform and was dressed down in baggy jeans and a metal band T-shirt Grant had been surprised he listened to. A surprisingly good imitation of street wear, Grant had thought.

He has to shove the picture face down. Jason doesn't need to see this.

Deep down, Grant knows Jason wouldn't want this. Might actually hate him for it. But he's not here, so Grant searches for the right vein and pushes the needle through, keeping still even as the cold liquid flows through his veins, leaving a faint burning. The injection spot will hurt for a few days, and when the ache stops he'll know to use the next dose.

He'd been hesitant to follow so close in his father's tracks, but Grant knows what he's doing. The Joker will pay, and inevitably so will Batman. He'll make sure of it.

There's a knock at his bedroom door. He lives in a new apartment now, somewhere in Jump far from the dregs of Gotham and Jason's tainted memory. Jade is leaning against the frame when he looks up, eyebrow raised and lips pursed in disapproval that reminds him too much of his mother.

Cheshire is an unconventional roommate, but a good ally, and occasionally a decent friend. Now is clearly not one of those instances.

"You're an idiot." She tells him conversationally, still somehow intimidating with cookie monster pajama pants and a baby bump.

"Right back at ya." He deadpans, packing away his little kit.

"That shits gonna kill you one day." She scolds. "Something tells me your boyfriend wouldn't be keen on you joining him so soon."

It's a low blow.

"Don't talk about him like you knew him." He grits. "You don't know what he'd want." It's a weak argument, even to him.

"I know that you loved him, and he probably loved you. And you don't want to see the people you love deteriorating on the other side of a needle." She vivisects him with her eyes, dark and brown and so similar to Jason's that he can hardly stand to meet them.

He knows she's speaking from experience, and not for the first time he wants to punch Roy Harper.

"it's not the same and you know it." He argues.

"Isn't it? You look like shit. You get worse every week. The last time you used your stupid fucking powers you passed out mid battle and I had to drag you out." She hisses.

"I know what I'm doing." He insists.

"I might not be there to save you next time." She rolls her eyes, sends him one last look he can't quite decipher, and leaves.

"I know what I'm doing." He repeats, quieter, reassuring himself or maybe Jason. He doesn't really know anymore.

Kentucky is dry and hot, but after spending so long in the desert it hardly bothers him anymore. He gets odd looks from the passerby, he can't blame them. He's a lot bigger than he used to be, broad and scarred and just a little uncanny to look at.

This is a small town, barely 200 people and mostly made of suburban neighborhoods as far as the eye can see.

He doesn't plan to be here long.

There's one cemetery in the town, it's been there about as long as the town itself and there are rumors that the groundskeeper might be immortal for how long the lady has been tending to it.

The grave he's looking for is on the far right, as far away from the graves of Slade's parents as possible.

The marker is slanted, paradiso granite with zinnias carved into the corners.

Grant Wilson

•Son• •Brother• •Friend•

It hurts to look at. Steals his breath away and makes something deep in his chest ache like a bruise that's been pressed too hard. He has to take a minute to breathe past the grief that's festering behind his ribs.

He crouches down in front of it when he's sure he won't lose his balance and curl up on the dirt. He has a death grip on the bouquet, mangling the poor stems.

"Grant you idiot," Jason sniffles, "you couldn't've waited just a few more months?" He huffs, it's wet and sounds as pathetic as he feels.

They could have put the clown down together, and Grant would've never been anywhere near that fucking cult.

He sets the colorful bundle down with shaking hands, pansies and hyacinths and Cyclamens that Jason had only just managed to pick out through his blurry vision.

He doesn't know how long he's been sitting there when the presence makes itself known. Long enough for his knees to sink into the soft dirt and the sky to darken with incoming rain. He's been aware of the eyes on him but he hadn't really cared.

Slade doesn't say anything for a while, just stares at the grave.

"How did you come back?" He doesn't pull his punches, when he finally speaks.

"I don't know." He shrugs, the same answer he's given every league doctor and magician that interrogated him. "I crawled out of my grave catatonic six months after I was buried. Talia found me, tried to heal me naturally and when that didn't work..." He trails off thinking of the burning green that had stolen death from his clutches.

"The Pit." Slade finishes for him. "It didn't bring you back?" It's as desperate as Jason has ever heard Deathstroke sound, and he can't even bring himself to enjoy it.

"I'd already be digging if it could." Jason admits, focusing on the plaque and not the dirt under his nails.

It's not your grave, he reminds himself. It doesn't help.

(He almost wishes it was)

"You still planning to get revenge on the Bat?" Slade cuts to the chase. At Jason's suspicious look he shrugs. "Talia said you're looking for teachers."

Of course she did.

"Batman doesn't know what he's doing. Gotham needs someone who can do what needs to be done. I intend to be that person." He confirms.

"And that means you have to be better than the Bat." Slade follows the logic. "I can help make that happen." He mutters almost to himself. "Are you gonna kill him?" It's mocking, a subtle dare. It reminds him of Grant, and that's the only reason he hesitates.

"No," he says eventually ignoring the inelegant snort from Slade, "someone else would just take his place. Dick or one of the new kids. If I want them out of the way I'll have to make their alter egos inaccessible. I've got a plan though. It'll take some time, a shit ton of undercover work, but I think you'll enjoy the amount of explosions." He finally pushes himself up to stand, ignoring the ache in his knees.

Slade hums consideringly but seems to agree. He turns his back to Jason without another word, clearly expecting him to follow.

What Talia probably left out is his penchant for killing his teachers. It's times like these having friends to keep him in the loop might be helpful, but Slade is always so keen on pushing others away. It's a weakness Jason was banking on when he booked the flight to bumfuck nowhere Kentucky.

Something he'd never told Grant was that sometimes it's better to be underestimated. To let people think that you're soft and sweet and gentle. If you hang your head in deference no one thinks to look for your teeth.

"You got something you wanna call yourself?" Slade asks as he starts the car.

"Shrike." He grins, as the car starts and they leave the cemetery behind.

[beeshornyjail]

so... um... i've been thinking about this scenario for a while 😳😳😳😳😳

imagine you're a bit of a lazy hedonist, and it's taken a bit of a toll on your body. you wouldn't lie if you say you're worried about your health, but you can't bring yourself to change it.

so things change for you.

you get whisked away by a witch who tells you that they have cast a spell on you. you're a bit frightened, but you calm down to notice... your heart rate has slowed. your breaths are full. the mysterious aches in your body are gone. the witch tells you that the spell they cast has made your body impervious to disease and pain. your immune system is so hardy that not even a cocktail of cocaine and heroin and alcohol can kill your heart. all you get is the loopiness in your mind. the only thing that can kill you or damage your system is old age.

the witch allows you to keep this spell, under one condition: you must stay with them and be their obedient pet. now while labor doesn't appeal to you, any opportunity to drink and eat and end up inebriated and couchlocked is worth it, especially now that you can go overboard and not have it affect your health. you diligently agree.

the witch prepares you for life as their pet: first they dress you in a robe so massive it wraps around you and hangs loose, then they lead you to a comfy nest of blankets and cushions, plenty of toys, and a banquet of food. they sit you down and tell you to eat. you don't have to think twice. you flood your throat with alcohol to keep you tipsy as you eat and eat. you don't even notice the tightness in your stomach as you stuff yourself past the point of what would normally be pain and nausea. you hiccup, pant and moan as your belly bubbles away. once finished with the banquet, you lie down and notice how your stomach towers above you. you're so full that all you can do is burp and nod off to sleep.

when you wake up, you still feel full, but the witch has the remedy, a large breakfast. they feed you all day, keeping you awake as your stomach expands and expands past human levels. you end up so full that the food coma absorbs you for days.

upon waking up, your gut growls, finally empty. but it hasn't shrunk. it's just gotten softer. grabbing and patting at it, you get up in shock and grab the mirror. your face is pudgy and bloated, your chest is heavier and saggier, your thighs are chunky and rubbing against each other, and that's not mentioning your stomach which has pushed your robe out completely.

panicked, you run (as best you can) to the witch. they tell you that the side effect of your perfect immune system is that your metabolism has now shut down. and because all you're doing is lying down, nothing gets burned and all of it gets turned into fat. all of it. especially now, considering your digestive system has magical properties that digest every bit of food so no waste leaves your system. so effectively, everything you have eaten is now on your hips.

you don't know how to feel, but you did agree to be their pet. and the food was exquisitely divine. so you might as well sit down and have more. so much more.

there is one thing they will never tell you. the spell they cast was not an immune spell. immunity itself is the side effect. it is a spell designed to turn the one affected into a human blob. with no metabolism, it is designed to make humans heavier than a ton at the very least. the immunity is only in place to ensure a human's fragile system doesn't kill it before it gets huge.

at 400 pounds, you forgo the robe for sitting around naked. its attempts at modesty cannot compete with your stomach that sits heavy, framed by your steadily growing thighs. even the witch agrees it's just easier this way.

at 600 pounds, you can't get out of the nest by yourself. the witch won't help you most of the time, but it may be for the best. when they do, they expect you to walk around yourself, and you've given up walking for an uneven waddle. your gut is so heavy on your legs you can barely move them, and your thighs get stuck against each other more than you're willing to admit. it's so tiring to walk, so you may as well lay down and let the witch look after you.

at 800 pounds, it gets hard to breathe all the time. the witch reassures you you don't need to breathe to stay alive, it just keeps your mind intact. but sadly, the spell cannot combat how gravity weighs your chest fat on your lungs. they're crushed now, all you can do is wheeze and shudder.

at 1200 pounds, you can't even think anymore. your brain is mush. all you do is eat and eat and eat. any objections to being this size no longer exist, if they ever existed in the first place. even the most mind melting drugs have never helped you reach this high. you are dumb and soft and malleable.

by the time you reach a ton, the witch can see just how hard it has gotten for you to eat. it makes you red in the face, panting and burping, and your arms can barely move under the folds of fat. and even in your seated position (the fat won't let you lay down), you find that your breasts are obstructing access from your mouth. the witch remedies this by casting a spell that stays in your belly, generating sweets and fatty buttery foods that swells it to its limits. you are now full all the time, and the instant something moves to be digested into fat for your body, you fill up to bursting again. anything for their loyal pet.

you are now unrecognisable. the last time the witch weighed you, you have broken the ten ton barrier. you don't even remember when it was. it must have been months ago to your eroded mind. you cannot get any oxygen into your system. your lungs are useless. your limbs have been swallowed by the fat that pools out around you. all you can see is your own skin. your can't even recognise what you see. all cognitive power has left. you're too far gone to even get joy. you cease to see yourself as yourself. all you are now is your body rumbling, belching, groaning, growing, growing larger and larger and larger.

nothing can stop you now.

[writ-in-violant]

🌳 🌺

Thank you!

🌳 What is your OC’s favourite way to relax after a stressful day? Do they have a favourite book to curl up with? A hobby? Or do they have a nice bubble bath and have an early night to bed?

Vivian tends to find something to read -- they're partial to poetry, both that of current Neathy writers and older classics like William Blake, Coleridge, Wordsworth, and the Romantics in general. Also, pulling out "Mrs. Frontispiece"'s poetry is always good to wind down and cheer up.

Blake feeds the cats outside his rooftop shack and pets them. He'd deny it is a hobby or a method of relaxing -- he'd call it gathering secrets and intel -- but it functions much like a way to de-stress. He likes the cats a lot, and they like him back (probably bc he feeds them routinely). Sometimes this hardened spy just ends up with a lapful of purring kitten and is like well. This is how i'm spending my evening I suppose.

Art likes sewing. Usually it's mending his own clothes after they get torn up by his day to day life, but he made money before coming to the Neath by repairing clothes (and poaching, but that's less relaxing) and still likes the ritual and repetition of mending things. Keeps his hands busy and keeps himself grounded.

Celestine saves up money to buy nice soaps and bath products and takes the most lavish baths possible. She's calling herself a lady now and by god she's going to live like one, at least when it comes to baths. Also, doing and removing makeup and the rituals of getting herself ready for either going out or staying in are their own kind of comfort to her.

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

Oh boy. Vivian tends to climb onto the roof; if it's particularly bad, they'll start loosing a Storm-threnody or something similar. This isn't great for their mental stability, but they've gotten to the point of being a poet and scholar in Fallen London when sometimes you have to pit the nightmares you love against the ones that mean you can't sleep. They tend not to seek out other people during this -- most people cannot deal with hearing about Vivian's dreams, anyway.

Blake...well. Blake used to have a very solid way of dealing with nightmares. Liam was extremely good at getting through Blake waking up with a fight-or-flight response, and usually would make tea and hold Blake, who usually is nonverbal in these situations. Now...well, now that's not available. Blake still has a jacket of Liam's that he wraps himself in. It's stopped smelling like Liam, anymore. And it's hard to get the kind of tea that Liam always made, down here. So mostly, Blake just...tries not to sleep more than he has to. The nightmares are bad, but waking up is worse.

Art likes to get moving after a nightmare. Sometimes he'll go out for a run or walk, often he'll end up getting into fights on the way. Usually he wins them. Before he started having quite so many dreams of the Vake, though, he used to try to clean his house or do other similar chores, but these days...he starts feeling more and more stir-crazy after those dreams. Like he needs to be...doing something. Getting into fights...works. It works to calm him down.

My recent fic gave us a peek into how Celestine deals with nightmares. Initially, she'll just shut down and go into denial mode, compartmentalizing her problems, but after a certain point she needs to be around people. Typically she breaks into the house of someone who she at least somewhat trusts, even if she wouldn't admit she trusts that person in the daylight. Or whatever passes for it in the Neath. She also tries to find places that are brightly-lit and where she can at least hear other people, and where she's not stuck in a small space; she had claustrophobia even before she got buried alive.

Feel free to ask me more questions from this ask game: https://writ-in-violant.tumblr.com/post/727735080951463936/soft-oc-asks

[gaoau]

[name]

it's her.

is there color in your world? warnings — none. word count — 1.4k

prev.

the clouds were painted a soft gainsboro, dotting the landscape as far as the eye could see. golden rays of sun showered down on the last minutes of their third year of high-school. diplomas wrapped in their palms and fingers intertwined; her fingers drummed on the back of his hand, her thumb didn't sit still as it fought with his.

her hands and her fingers and her touch that moulded nicely to his yet not quite perfectly. as she flowed and floated, nothing ever fit perfectly in her hands. someone that came and went as she pleased, and everything around her was supposed to let her go do her own thing—including rintarou.

the guitar she fumbled with clumsily yet played something nice. the crate of plug plants full of life waiting to grow that she struggled to balance. the volleyball she held for only a few seconds before passing it to him. the cat that she petted and gave a name to, only to later die without warning. the candy she ate less than half of because she split it to share with her friend and a classmate. the fruit she packed as a gift for others to enjoy. the book she was reading but quickly got bored of. the umbrella she sometimes used and other times preferred to shower under the rain. the different flowers she bought for everyone but herself.

at the end of the day, even rintarou's own hand; a smooth match although not made in heaven, reminding them they were together yet in a second they might not be anymore. and that was okay, too. changes happened often.

grip tightening around her restless thumb, he painted a slanted, amused smile on his lips. [name] twisted her arm to keep him from bending her bones unnaturally. "i give, i give!"

laughter bubbled as he released her. a mischievous snicker and sunny giggles. she bumped her shoulder into his and he tumbled a few steps to the side.

up ahead—stayin' away from the lovey-dovey shit, as per atsumu's eloquent words—the twins grabbed at each other's hands to mimic the couple behind them. ginjima heaved a sigh, rubbing his temples with his fingers, eyes burning after crying. atsumu screeched when osamu popped all his knuckles simultaneously.

[name] chortled at the scene, still somehow finding their stupidity hilarious even after spending a whole year with them. her hand snaked its way back into his. he welcomed it as they clicked in place together warmly.

a few steps behind, [name]'s closest friends trudged along with tears and comforting pats. shijiki bawled at the top of her lungs, possibly even louder than atsumu had ever screamed.

rintarou cringed to himself. "you should really do something about her."

"let 'er cry, she has rights."

"i'm surprised you didn't cry."

[name] giggled, shoulders bouncing. "i think we already had this conversation."

they crossed the school gates to exit the scene of their high-school careers. by the nyanza leaves during summer, lying in the stead of a cat's demise, coquelicot poppies basked in the beauty of their full bloom. rintarou side-eyed the blanket of petals for a brief second; [name] didn't bother even glancing at them.

a chuckle fell from his lips. "yeah, you're not big on memories."

"we don't need 'em." she turned to meet his moral yellow eyes. he didn't flinch, already used to those dilating, sharp pupils. "f'ya look back, ya trip." a soft, thin simper decorated her features.

"you can stop moving."

"then what's the point in walkin'? yer wastin' time like that. chop-chop, darlin'."

"i can't keep up with you," he pushed out a sigh. his head shook slightly.

"yer gettin' better. ya'll get there someday."

his fingers did a round of drumming on the back of her hand. she instinctively replied with two.

"where are you headed now?"

"'m thinkin' 'bout majoring in psychology, see where that takes me." a shrug bounced off her shoulders. she would be fine. she moulded to anything and anything moulded to her. "how 'bout ya?"

"i'm going pro, i guess."

"an' i thought i could stop cheerin' after my high-school days were over."

"no one's forcing you."

it was that laughter he loved again; a rock scraping against concrete to kickstart genuine cackles. "yer far more needy than ya give yerself credit for, rin."

"you're one to talk."

"i'm not? between you and me, i ain't the one who thinks pda'll make me stop talkin' to 'tsumu mid-convo."

"you got me there."

atsumu whipped around at the mention of his name. rintarou rolled his eyes before he had a chance to speak. "i see ya, sunarin, fuck you!" [name] chortled, nudging his gut with her elbow. "we're goin' for yakiniku, y'all comin'?"

[name] bit the inside of her cheek as she fought back a guilty grin. her lips smacked. "i promised the girls i'd hang out with 'em." a hum vibrated from the back of his throat and he squeezed her hand. "oh, c'mon, rin."

his head dove into her neck, forehead landing on her shoulder. [name] tripped to a stop at the unexpected weight pulling her down. vibrating with laughter, she pressed her free hand against his chest so he wouldn't come crashing down on her. rintarou sighed in contentment, inhaling the sweet perfume of chamomile he had gifted her for her birthday.

"see? yer clingy." he didn't like the blunt truths rolling off her tongue. she managed to shove his incredibly heavy body off of her. "go hang out with 'em. misa-chan's in need of emotional support anyway." his lips curved down, unamused at her nodding towards her friend.

face puce and swollen, shijiki bawled her eyes out onto her friends' blazer, dampening them with salty tears. "'m gonna miss ya guys so much!" among the incoherent hiccups, some words actually made sense. if it was a scene meant for rintarou to pity, it wasn't working. shijiki almost decked him in a hallway.

his attention darted back to [name] when she squeezed his hand. "i'll drop by yer house later, hm? see ya." her lips caught his for a brief second. the taste of her cherry lip-balm was always his favorite part, yet it never lasted long enough.

she waved her fingers out of habit, rehearsing the smile she would wear to soothe shijiki's troubles away. she forgot her hand in his and he tugged her back into him before she could leave for the afternoon.

"[name]," he called in a low mumble. she hummed in response, eyes gazing into his. "i don't think i ever answered your question."

she tilted her head, hair swaying, teeth chewing at her lip in thought. "which one…?"

"what my favorite color is."

"ah, ya don't hafta. i can't even answer that for—"

"it's you."

"huh?" her brows shot into her forehead. with dilated pupils, swallowing him like a black hole, she blinked inconsistently. pins and needles that pierced into him.

"my favorite color is you, [name]."

her blinking died into a wide-eyed stare and mouth agape. mannerisms and expressions he had picked up from her processed in her brain with utmost delicacy, careful to break them apart to their very core and find the bits of her ingrained in him. her gaze softened into pure adoration for a dense, colorless boy.

long, byzantium nails grazed past his cheek and delicate fingers cradled the side of his face. he settled his own palm behind her neck to bring her closer. placing her lips upon his, they shared a weightless kiss coated in cherry and youth. she couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled between them at his eagerness.

rintarou pressed his forehead against hers when she pulled away, breaths even but out of sync. [name] slipped from his hold before he could steal another kiss from her. one kiss was too little, but two kisses were beyond enough.

"don't miss me too much." [name] grinned at him with glistening teeth, fingers waving a short goodbye.

"oh, come on, i thought that would work."

their laughter blended into one another's, harmonious, one transitioning sweetly into the other. she pushed him with both palms pressing flat on his back to get his feet moving. he threw a glance over his shoulder, nodding his head at her waving hand.

"see you."

"see ya."

—あごす (agosu) • 2020

[mae-gi-writes]

We all know Akaashi. The silent, quiet young man always keeping Bokuto in check. He's not one to stand out, more like the underdog and despite being in the limelight as Bokuto's handsome friend, he's known to being reclusive, not talkative. Not fun.

But Akaashi is so much more than that. Akaashi, who gets lost in his own worlds of literature where fantasy and magic and dragons reign, who is enraptured by history and watches National Geography and Our Planet in his spare time, glasses on while petting his pet cat. And he loves cats, meows at them as a form of communication and it's a pity nobody is here to see that.

Akaashi, who is amazing cook when he's not under pressure, who overthinks things a hundred times before even asking a simple question because he's so self-conscious about what people think of him. Akaashi, who is initially annoyed at how loud you are when he meets you for the first time during one of their practice matches. He hates the loud and the brash, with the exception of Bokuto.

Akaashi, who slowly learns to accept you as a constant when friendly Bokuto decides it would be fun to invite you to play with them. Akaashi who, despite his comments, gives you a serve anyway. Who starts walking you home because you keep bugging him about thieves and murderers that roam the streets. Who, despite his reticence, starts picking up on your little habits, the things that make you tick.

Akaashi, who drags you to the library to study. Who sticks sticky notes on your forehead whenever you fall asleep. Who one night spills out his thoughts about how galaxies are fascinations and stars are already dead by the time we see them, not noticing how you're looking up at him as though he's the one putting stars in your skies.

Akaashi, a lightweight who prefers sipping on bubble tea. Who has a particular craving for cereal -- a bad habit that Bokuto has tried stopping in vain -- who loves smelling sea salt in the air by the beach and prefers the solitude of reading books rather than socializing.

Akaashi, who spends his nights wondering what you smell like. Akaashi, who falls for the way you make him smile, for the way you set butterflies in his stomach. Akaashi, whose love runs as deep as a river, who is always there to help you during your midnight library sessions, to bring you home safe, to make sure to wrap his scarf around your neck against the bite of the cold.

Akaashi, who loves you so much and so quietly he thinks he might explode. Akaashi, who can't help himself and holds your arm, halts you, only to hug you to him in quiet desperation. So much you feel him shaking in your arms.

Akaashi, who shivers when you hug back.

Who's heart starts skipping, summersaulting, when your mouth brushes against his jaw before you leave a small kiss there.

Akaashi, who in the light of the moon shining upon your silhouette, realizes that he's utterly, devastatingly, crushingly in love with you.

---

WOAH IM SO SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG SHSKDJDJ but i hope you enjoyed it anyway (ㄒoㄒ)

[the-faceless-bride]

😏HEHE😏I HAVE AN😏AMAZING IDEA FOR YOU👏🏽 Okay so how about a Poly lost boys with a Harley Joker s/o like how would the boys react to a s/o that's basically like Harley and Joker but all in one

Also I have another idea but I wanna discuss that with you in private cuz i like have it all down and I don't wanna get into but lemme tell its honestly like the most amazing idea I have ever had but anyways

How would the boys react and how would this go down but how about a bonus let's add star and Micheal what's everyone's reaction and how would all this go down and to be honest I wanna see max's reaction (even though I hate him but it's okay👏🏽) but anyways I wanna see how it goes down I mean we all know how Joker is and Harley but those 2 being combined ohh the boardwalk is screwed anyway that's all also make sure you rest before you even do this and take as much time as you need okay don't want you feeling overwhelmed or pressured you know♡

Lost boys Reactions

David

Thinks your dark side is interesting, seeing how your mind works in such a brilliant way and how it sees the world differently than others in this hell whole

Finds your colder and softer side relaxing despite the possibility of you going haywire and fucking everyone up if someone so much as looks at you funny

He thinks your fun and bubbly side is a good chance when it's needed, that his other two blonde morons have someone to have fun with when him and Dwayne are too tired to look after them

He likes when you sit up in his lap and he pets your head, he will bandage any scrapes you got from the boardwalk that day, and neither of you day anything. It's a nice quiet moment you share.

His nickname is Puddin' or blondie

Paul

GIVE HIM THAT WILD SIDE BABY!! he wants you running around and bouncing off the walls with him! He loves when you crack some out of pocket joke at something David says and you both break into hysterical laughter while Marko tries to keep it in

He doesn't fully click with your cold quite cunning side though, simply because he doesn't understand it, your views and thought are just too complex for this poor himbo to wrap his head around

He likes when you speak your mind though, he knows he can go to you for honesty but in a funny way. Not a harsh hitting way like the other boys would do it, you don't poke fun or belittle him

And yes that last statement carries over, you see the boys have been poking fun, at him for decades they always see it at harmless fun and it normally doesn't bother Paul, but sometimes when he is trying to understand something but he can't wrap his head around it the other boys pull the "oh your so stupid Paul, just let us do it" he knows they are just poking fun and wouldn't really say it to hurt him, but it still stings sometimes

His nickname is Paulie or Putz

Dwayne

Aww Husband material 100% he helps you with a lot, he helps you calm down when you get too excited and feel like jumping around, and he helps you work through any of those dark thoughts that pass through your head

He likes to snuggle with you, you sit between his legs when you all get up first thing, and does your hair in any crazy or cutesie style you want that day and take his time carefully taking it out when you all plan on going to sleep

He will often be the one to calm you down when you go on one of your heated rants, kissing your forehead and rubs your shoulders telling you hell help you slit the throat of who upset you that night

He also helps apply your hair dye! The streaks of color in your hair, greens, blues, reds, or blacks he's happy when you're happy baby

His nickname is handsome, batzy

Marko

While Dwayne tries to calm you, Marko adds fuel to your fire... He wants to see the scarier side of you, it kinda turns him on... Look that's just who his is ok I don't make the rules

He also likes how you stick up for him the boys when people call them Slurs because of their sexuality, he will point it out to you. "Y/N! THAT GUY IS LAUGHING AT ME!"

He will also do the same for you, anytime anywhere and if anyone calls you crazy, or the most popular one "psycho little bitch" he will kill someone

Marko's nickname is Angel face or cherub

!!Bonus Time!!

Star

Star is... Kinda scared of you, she sees you as a ticking time bomb that's gonna explode at the slightest inconvenience to you. She thinks you're worse than the boys and can do a lot of damage without reprimands

Your bubbly side is the side she likes best, well for the most part. When you get too crazy or too excited and you feel like doing something crazy she will attempt to talk you down but the moment you insist she will kinda run off...

Your cold side scares her the most. The way you think and talk scares her... She has seen you snap at the boys before and get away with it alive and that alone scares her, she doesn't really care that after you snap it takes a minute or two to apologize to the boy you snapped at because when you've reached a point you always do it again

Stars nickname is Twinkles or scaredy-cat

Michael

Michael is worried for you, he knows he isn't the smartest guy in the world but he is sure the way you work isn't healthy not only for you but the people around you.

You cling to the boy and smother them in affection and cold to everyone else around you, but sometimes that flips and you become more social with other and barely acknowledge the boys existence

Michael talks with you and tries to understand you because I fully believe he has a very serious hero complex and feels like he needs to help everyone he deems a poor soul that needs saving.

Michaels nickname is Mikey or pretty boy

Max

Max is done. Left the chat, ready to walk into the sun. He already has two terror twins he has to deal with and now with you, he is gonna lose his mind, especially once you become a vampire and start killing people

He is kinda judgy about your relationship with his 'sons' and if this means you're gonna be around more he doesn't want you to scare Lucy...

He will tolerate you, but you are not allowed in his store, and if you make friends with his dog he is going to be very upset about it...

Max's nickname is Maxie

[regalityandcoffee]

This isn't getting a title. It's Regal smut. Enjoy.

"Sir- I can't, I can't-"

"I know, baby, I know. Just one more. Let me make you come one more time tonight and we'll go to bed," William whispered as he rolled his hips against yours, as he gripped your hips under the blankets.

It didn't matter he'd already drawn out five climaxes out of you tonight (at least he thought it was five, even he was starting to lose count). He just wanted to keep hearing those pretty moans of yours as his cock slowly, achingly moved in your walls. He wanted to savour every little bit of this weekend before he had to give you up again for the week, had to let you go torture yourself at your job, a place he still wishes you'd quit and let him care for you full time from.

"Just one more...just one more..."

You'd be too tired to let him do this to you during the week, to let him treat you over and over again, let his talented lips and tongue make your pretty little clit ache and swell, to suck at you until his name turned to gibberish as your back arched against the sheets. To let his fingers thrust in you and coax gasp after gasp out of you until you cried. Let his large hands grope your perfect breasts, fingers teasing your sensitive nipples as you rode him.

"You've been so good, my love. J-just one more..."

He really had lost track of how many times he'd come in you, how much cum he must have stuffed you with at this point was beyond him, but if the sound his cock moving in your slick folds that could still be heard through the blankets was any indication it was probably alot.

You could barely hump his thigh at night during the week when you slept together. Legs intertwined he moved against you as well as you gripped the back of his shirt, trying to help you get off until you both gave up and just let his hands slip into your underwear to finish the job.

His poor tired little pet, you needed this weekend, just him pampering you, rubbing your shoulders, feeding you your favorite snacks by hand, bathing you in the most sensual of bubble baths and showers and fucking you senseless all over the house. Fucking you dumb, until all you could think about was how good you felt, how good he made you feel.

These thoughts raced in his mind as you desperately tried to meet the rocking of his hips against yours, both of you sweating from your movement under the sultry heat of the blankets.

"D...dizzy..."

"I know baby, I know, you're almost there, we're almost there-" He had no idea how either of them had lasted this long, between the heat, the overstimulation, and the exhaustion of ejaculating an unknowable amount of times, his thrusts had grown sloppily as he quickened his paste in you desperately. "You're so good, my love, I-"

"Please, so close, Sir... please make me- please make me-"

"Fuck-" his hands moved up to your waist pulling you down, arms wrapped around you getting you as close as close could be as his end neared, panting in your ear like a dog in heat. "Baby, I'm- come with me, come-"

Face now in the crook of his neck, hands on his shoulders, you choked out cries as he cummed deep in you, your walls clenching around him as your orgasmed rocked you just as hard.

Arms around you he kisses the top of your head as heavy breaths escaped his lips, as you both came down from seventh heaven together.

"I'm...I'm..."

"I know, love, I know, let's get some rest now. He pulled out of you, knowing you were too tired to get up and let him clean up the mess he made of you. You rolled off him onto your side and he came behind you, arms back around you, kissing your neck. "Get some rest, love."You both would need it.

You needed rest for the week ahead...and he needed it do this exact same thing to you next weekend.

[067supremacy]

Ok! This has been a loooong time coming, but I finally got round to finishing it. This may have some mistakes in it as my lazy ass didn't check through, lmao. Anyway! I hope you enjoy :)

Her Maiden - Alcina Dimitrescu

Tw: Smut, smut, and some more smut.

18+!!

The dark halls of the castle stretch for miles; the place was a maze, but you had it memorised like the back of your hand. A cool chill runs down your spine, causing you to shiver and rub at the exposed skin of your short-sleeved arm.

You hurry along the stone flooring; the click of your heels do little to mask your panic, but when it came to this family, you knew better than to keep them waiting. You can already hear the impatient call of your name from the leader herself. Fear strikes you as you wonder if today was the day you received a punishment.

The thick red liquid you carry is heavy. The sloshing drink was a request from Lady Dimitrescu, which you immediately tended to. However, there had been a delay when you accidentally collided with one of the daughters. Your life flashed before your eyes, but to your surprise, they were lenient with you. They even went as far as to allow you back on your way without as much as a threat, which you had witnessed many times for far less.

As you enter the master bedroom, the place of rest for Alcina Dimitrescu. She exhales the smoke she was holding in and stands from her colossal seat. Her face doesn't look impressed, and you weigh the options of getting punished or running there and then. But you had heard the stories of others who ran; it became a game, almost like cat and mouse. The girls would chase and hunt you down until they could squeeze out every last drop of your blood.

"My dear, you had me worried that you would never come back, " Alcina Says in her sultry voice, the same voice that could run a chill down your spine every day of the week. Alcina seems surprised to find you panting and sweating from the effort you put into making it back on time. Seeing you like this brings other kinds of thoughts to her head; she was thirsty, that's for sure, but it was no longer for the wine; she wanted you. And what Lady Dimitrescu wants, she damn well gets. Not that you wouldn't accept what happens just shortly after this encounter.

"You have been such a good maiden, recently. How about a reward for my favourite pet?" Alcina struts to your position, eyeing you from head to toe; she loves your shy behaviour, and under her lustful gaze, you certainly feel shy. She takes the wine from you and takes your hand in hers. She kisses your hand and leads you to her bed; that candlelit room provides a romantic atmosphere. Alcina's sweet perfume is just the right amount to keep it from being too overpowering.

"Do you want this, pet?" Lady D breathes out slowly and takes a step back to admire your beauty and give you the required space to say no if necessary. But no wasn't an option; you wanted this, you want Alcina.

You nod in response, but that isn't enough for Alcina. She prefers to hear this type of thing, almost as much as she will love to listen to your whimpers when they arrive. Alcina tuts her disappointment at you shaking her head playfully while she is at it. Her long slender fingers rest at her hips, but how you long for them to be wrapped around your neck or maybe touching you in a place so sacred, you can only dream of the sensation.

"Tell me what you want, pet, " lady Dimitrescu whispers as she pours some of the wine into her crystal glass with the Dimitrescu emblem glossed into the side.

The way she intimidates you is the most attractive part. A woman of class and with great style. Her choice of music was always a pleasant one. The different types of perfume she wears are always delightful on your nose. She is beautiful from head to toe, and there is a lot of her in between. You weigh up the options you have, but the one thing you can't do is leave her waiting. Your answers run through your mind like a marathon runner, but eventually, you land on one that is sure to please the lady of the castle.

"I- I want you." you nervously say; you begin to play with your fingers and divert your gaze in any direction that doesn't include Alcina. Your speech was low, Alcina heard what you said, but for the prospect of bothering the game at stake, Alcina asks you to repeat what you had said.

"I want you," you say again, this time with more force behind your voice. You still hesitate to look her way. Soon, that isn't an option as she places a gloved pointer finger under your chin and raises your head to look her dead in the eyes. The eyes that hold so much passion, but something else twinkles in the depths of her eyes, love.

She softly coos while lowering herself to become face to face with you. The position seems uncomfortable for her, but for you, it was pushed aside immediately without a second thought. You are confident that if someone walks in now, they will find this picture highly amusing, although you doubt their eyes would remain in their sockets should they say anything.

It's the softest pair of lips you can imagine that make contact with yours, a feather flowing through the gentle breeze of a dream location. You sink into a place of bliss; all your worries disappear at the touch of her cherry red lips on yours. At first, you stand stiff while trying to figure out what was happening, but you relax and begin to kiss back as eagerly as Lady Dimitrescu is.

Alcina swipes her tongue along your lip, she doesn't beg for anything, but this was as close as it got. She so badly wanted to taste you on her tongue, a particular taste could wait, but for now, the tip of her tongue drags along yours as they meet in a glorious kiss. You moan slightly at the sensation which is captured in Alcina's mouth; the two of you move in sync with one another; Alcina is gentle, something you appreciate immensely, given her reputation. You feel her hand glide up your leg agonisingly slow; you throb with need, and Alcina can sense this, but the game is all too amusing now. Her hand was entirely up your dress, and her fingers reached the hem of your underwear.

"I could smell you, now I can feel you." Lady Dimitrescu whispers against your lips as she runs her index and middle finger over the damp fabric of your underwear. She teasingly massages you; Alcina soaks up every little sound you make as this gives her the ultimate pleasure. She can feel your blood heating up deliciously, something she takes a strong liking to.

"m-miss, P-please." you whine into the crock of her neck where she holds your head.

Alcina retracts her fingers at your beg, taking her gloves off to show this is moving forward and holds her two digits in front of your face; she taps your lips, and you instantly know what she is asking for. You open your mouth and willingly let her two digits rest on your tongue. You encircle them in the heat of your mouth and lathe your tongue around them; when you make eye contact with Alcina, she almost breaks face and crumbles in front of you, but she wills through your seductive actions.

Eventually, she pulls her fingers from your mouth and sets about going to her actual destination. With your spit slicked on her fingers, she pulls your underwear down and finally places them at your entrance. Alcina pushes into your tight hole; the tall woman is careful; she treats you like a fragile vase, but seeing you in pleasure rather than pain, she moves slowly, letting you enjoy the drag of her fingers against your sensitive walls.

"Fuck, t-that feels s - so good." you whimper out as her thumb plays with your clit. Her head moves to place her mouth on your neck; you know how dangerous this situation is. She could bite into your neck at any time, but being overwhelmed with pleasure makes the worry subside before it even starts. Her tongue swipes up the centre of your neck, making you shiver; she makes your body feel electric.

"Don't be quiet; make me proud, pet." Alcina husks into your neck. The more time goes on, the harder she pumps her fingers; the soaked sound emitting from your downstairs region is enough to make Alcina growl; she loves the sound of getting you closer and closer to your high. You don't disappoint the lady. You let out various high pitched moans to tell her that the spot she was slamming into was just right. You feel a heat rising in your stomach, a bubbling feeling that builds like a pressure gauge. The higher it gets, the better you feel. Your legs begin to shake, and Alcina's name sprays from your lips uncontrollably. Just as you are about to tip over the edge, she pulls her fingers from your soaked pussy and chuckles to herself at your need to be fucked.

"Oh, honey. Not yet, I haven't even got to taste you yet."

Alcina brings out her steel claws; much to your surprise, for a split second, you worried about your life. However, she gently places the tip of her blade at the neckline of your dress and slowly slices down. She is cautious in this process, always making sure the dress is slightly lifted from your skin. She finishes her masterpiece; you lay there completely naked, sweaty and panting from the adventures, you spread your legs to give Alcina the best view, you see her lick her lips at the sight of your needy behaviour, how she loves this more than life itself.

With your dress cut in half and spread on either side of your body, you make the mistake of reaching your hand down to touch yourself. This wasn't well-received by the leader of the Dimitrescu bloodline. She quickly slaps your hand away and places a large hand around your throat. The look in her eyes had changed; this was a predator vs prey situation, and you knew your role in that. Her eyes were pitch black with lust but jealousy of the thought of anyone-including you- finishing you off. Your airwaves are trapped for moment, but Alcina knows what she is doing. It's just the right amount of pressure not to harm you but add the effect of danger. Retracting her claws, she gives your breast a harsh slap before soothing it out with her mouth. She sucks, licks, and nibbles, much to your pleasure. You throb with need; the wetness between your legs begins to drip down the curve of your ass.

Alcina takes pity on you, her needy little maiden. Still choking you slightly, she kisses down your perfect body until her warm breath is on your centre; she starts with a kiss, coating her lips in your juices; you chance to look down and catch a glimpse of her licking her lips.

"Mm, divine, my sweetheart." Alcina moans before licking your pussy with her enormous tongue. You fall into complete euphoria. Alcina is amazing; her tongue laps up your juice before entering your heat, the slurping sounds from down your body has your back rising as far as it would allow. Alcina places your legs over her shoulders to get the best angle for you and places both hands on your hips to steady you; from here, she shows no mercy. Fucking you like only she could, and God, does she fuck you. From quiet whimpers to loud screams, you put a smile on the cherry red lips of Alcina. Chants of her name echo around the room, and most likely the entire castle, it doesn't take much, but you are back on the edge you were hanging off of before.

You cry out what is to come, Alcina is far too aware of what is building inside you, but she wants you to let go. She sticks to her task, and before you know it, a burst of ecstasy shoots through your entire being; you shake like a leaf in the arms of the woman who took you in. Lady Dimitrescu builds her way up to your face, leaving kisses along the way. She pulls you into her chest and relaxes you completely. The last thing you hear before drifting into a deep sleep is, "I want to be the lady of this castle with you by my side."