#this is how the cycle began and how it will continue on and on until the end of time

[that-ari-blogger]

The Thesis Knows Where You Live (Destiny Part 1)

She-Ra is a series in no small part about tragedy. It is cyclical, built around a spiral of abuse that drives people to their lowest points. This is a story in which the narrative itself is a force in the story and exerts its will on the characters.

There is another word for this, trauma. Or more accurately, the scars left behind. Physically, yes, but more often than not these are mental refractions of actions and consequences.

As a result, the narrative usually displays itself in subtle ways. The set design influencing the characters’ moods, the coincidences that happen at just the right time to disrupt entire character journeys. Most obviously, in the abject fear that corrupts everyone’s motivations.

But, what if we wanted to get more clear with it? What if the narrative got frustrated with how well everything was going and decided to flip the table entirely?

Then you get an episode as gloriously unsubtle as Destiny Part 1.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Lord Of The Rings)

I want to start with context. As in, why is it that the show feels the need to be this heavy handed with its themes.

Most blatantly, this is the penultimate episode of the series’ “darkest hour season”, so it’s going to be dark and have dark themes and have time be a significant element and have themes around time running out.

However, it is also reactionary. I think the story itself is an antagonist. Tragedy is something to escape from (hold this thought), and assigning a will to it allows it to take steps to keep the protagonists held within it. Although I want to be clear, I don’t think this is a conscious character, I think it’s mora aligned with the setting. It is a force of nature; it is the world itself.

Because of this, I think that will is trying to gain a foothold on the story in the same way that gravity reacts to a ball being thrown in the air. It tries to bring it back down, and there’s a little more nuance to that metaphor.

The bluntness of this specific sequence is a display of what that kind of writing can do. It telegraphs that it's hiding Entrapta's eyes from you and continues to do so for several minutes. It builds dread and suspense. Also, remember this specific type of shot.

Now it’s time for “Writer explains Physics to the internet”.

So, gravity is magic that is always acting on a thing. It pulls the little thing towards the big thing but it doesn’t stop pulling. The reason the ball comes back down isn’t because gravity didn’t notice you throw it, it’s because the force of your throw was momentarily stronger than the force pulling the ball down. As time passes because of other magic such as air resistance and physics, the ball loses upwards power and the gravity, which stayed constant (I think) eventually becomes the stronger force.

I am fascinated to know how much of that I got wrong.

The point I am making here is that the will of the tragedy was constant. The characters nearly escaped, they got pretty far, but then they lost momentum, and began to fall back, gaining more and more speed until we hit this episode, at which terminal velocity is achieved, and the ground is closing in.

Essentially, everything is going pear shaped and getting worse at approximately 9.8 metres per second per second.

I love the mask as a character design element for Entrapta. It's a facade, but it's cracked. She is presenting a brave face, but its fractured. Specifically, it is a break that disrupts her vision. She needs to take it off to see properly.

Speaking of which, Beast Island.

Last episode, I presented the hypothesis that Beast Island is the dumping ground for First Ones technology as a metaphor for that cycle of abuse on a grander scale. I.e. the first ones didn’t care about Beast Island or Etheria, they just needed a place to store their baggage.

In this episode, Entrapta looks directly at the camera and agrees with me.

The Heart of Etheria is a nuclear weapon. It’s a bomb that can destroy anything it wants, uncontrollable, self-destructive. It is unsubtle and unnuanced in every aspect. It doesn’t care who is nearby or who it is fired at, it will just destroy them. Just enough warning to know you are buggered, then nothing.

It's the inherent cosmic horror of humanity. The fact we are capable of caring makes it so much more terrifying when we actively do not on such a grand scale.

The thematic implications here are obvious. The first ones didn’t care. They were self-destructive but found a loophole. Instead of sacrificing themselves, they found someone else to do it for them.

No specific example is given for why Etheria was chosen of all places. Magic exists elsewhere, but Etheria got picked because it was the most convenient. The First Ones didn’t have any grievance against the planet at all.

They didn’t even create She-Ra. It was just the first being they found who could last long enough to fire the weapon before she was vaporised.

A foreign power came to a place to mine a resource they wanted, then appropriated and corrupted a deeply significant element of that place’s culture and used the place as a pawn in their own schemes, giving no attention to the people who actually lived there except through the lens of coldness and usefulness. Once again, there is a word for that, and this time, it’s colonialism.

Which is actually a bit weird. Because the First Ones and the Horde were and are unaligned. I don’t believe it is stated directly, but it is heavily implied that those two were the ones fighting in the first place.

The reason I say this is weird is because in stories, sides in conflicts on this scale are usually thematically distinct. There is usually a clear good and evil.

In Lord Of The Rings, there are a lot of ideas going on, but one key theme is free will in relation to war. The Uruk-hai exist only for battle, and have no say in their purpose, while the heroes have something to protect and something to die for. The Hobbits are the embodiment of creature comfort. Hearth and home vs conquest and conflict.

Look, it's this same shot again. One character in the foreground, one in the background. Both showing their emotions plainly but neither able to see the other. Dramatic irony and secrecy. This episode uses this shot a lot.

But the Horde is signified by empire and colonialism. The visual in Princess Scorpia of the family crest graffitied with the Horde logo comes readily to mind.

Having the First Ones mess around with the same theme muddies the water.

These are two sides; the relativity is almost irrelevant and Etheria just got caught in the crossfire. If the nuclear weapon signifies the cycle as also relating to the war, then Etheria represents the common soldier. The person who is told to die for someone else’s cause and that they will be a hero if they do.

Alternatively, Etheria might be a representation of the land itself, scarred by bomb after bomb, riddled with trenches like cuts across a corpse, each full more of blood, flies, and rotting flesh than anything else under the moon. It is the field of poppies, trying desperately to grow, but unable to shake that crimson from its mind.

If the land is a character, it is capable of being harmed, it is capable of being hurt, and it is capable of being traumatised.

Not so subtle detail: Entrapta rises slightly when she tells Adora about her lack of agency. The shot is looking upwards when it receives the news to make that information seem more powerful and imposing. This plan is bigger than Adora, and the show wants you to be afraid of it.

It was true that the relativity of the two sides didn’t really matter, because to Etheria, these are just two colonial forces who want to use it.

What if the Heart of Etheria was a defensive project? Does it matter?

Thematically, yes.

If the project was defensive, then we are led back to our claims about the cycle of abuse. The First Ones wanted to protect themselves, and in doing so, destroyed someone else. They sacrificed Etheria to set themselves free, passing the torch somewhere else, and leaving naught but memories in their wake.

And it didn’t even work!

The First Ones are nowhere to be seen. Their grand scheme failed; they lost the war. Their reaching for safety did nothing but cause more misery and it didn’t even get them out of the hole they found them in.

That is the cycle of abuse in a nutshell. Victims trying to save themselves in the only way they know how, with faulty tools that don’t succeed, and to everyone around them, to Etheria, the difference between victim and abuser is sometimes not even a different face. Thematically, the difference matters, but practically, it couldn't be less important.

Violence begets violence, the only way to stop, is to stop fighting.

But then you would lose, right? Kneel down and let tragedy overtake you? No!

That is the mindset instilled by the vines in Destiny Part 1, just shut up and let destiny run its course. This frames the idea of “just stop fighting” as something said by abusers to their victims, which becomes a Catch 22.

You either fight, in which case you lose. Or you don’t, in which case you lose. It’s a trolley problem.

But I’m going to let you in on a secret. Trolley problems are contrived as all hell. They are engineered to be as simple and unnuanced as possible, and while these situations do exist in real life, I will wager that there is always a third option. It will be more difficult, sure, but it’s possible. Trolley problems feed on a lack of hope, the trick is to let them go hungry.

In this case, don’t stop fighting, change how you go about it. Learn from the cycle, do better. You don’t find peace, you make it. So, find a way to do that.

In other words, take the initiative and start to exert your own will on the story around you, which leads me back to the poppies, to the gravity, and to the tragedy.

Shadow Weaver has just had the rug pulled out from under her, so she is resorting to her old tricks to try and gain back control.

Poppy fields are some of the most humbling things you will ever see, especially on the site of a battlefield. They are the only things that can grow, but they symbolize that the earth is still trying to change. The seasons still march on, and more will come.

Yes, they are wounds, but they don’t run from them or fight them, they bear them like a badge of honour. They remind you of what happened here, they make you think, and they stare you dead in the eye when you try to set up another battle. You may have forgotten, but the land remembers. It will remember every step you take; it will welcome you when you fall, and it will stand warden over your soul. Never again.

Again, scale. This plan is bigger than Adora and Bow. They are powerless against it. That makes it scary, but it also works like a Darksouls boss. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and the more satisfying they are to defeat.

Keeping that in mind with gravity, because I know at least one person who will read this and take issue with my explanation. Gravity doesn’t pull the small thing towards the big thing, it pulls them together. It just finds an average spot between them. The bigger the thing, the more influence it has and the closer that average location is to it.

If we finagle a bit and substitute physical size for impetus within the narrative, or more simply, agency, then the idea of outgrowing your trauma has a new meaning, doesn’t it?

You will meet in the middle, drawn closer and closer as you lose your ability to move. But if you grow and gain power over your own life, eventually that trauma will orbit you. It will be a part of you always, but it won’t be something you revolve around, it won’t consume you. You are still pulled together to meet in the middle, but you control where that middle point is.

Daniel Dae Kim is a global treasure. He kills every line and thrives in bombastic moments of drama and comedy. Which is why I want to highlight the smallest moment. Specifically, the tiniest of wavers when he says "Brightmoon". Genuinely one of my two favourite lines in the entire series.

Finally, there is tragedy, and here I want to set up the finale with some framing. As in, why do we partake in tragedy? I claimed that the genre is something you escape from, and if you are in a tragedy, my advice will always be to leave. But why do we watch stories we know are going to end well?

Even more peculiarly, why do we enjoy doing it? Tragedy is definitively unfun. So why are they so popular?

The answer is catharsis. You read a tragedy because it makes your world better. Stories aren’t moralistic tests, they are just ways of communicating, and most often, what they are communicating is “this is interesting.”

You read stories to make you feel, and in my opinion, the best part of a tragedy is the moment you stop reading. The story makes you emote in a controlled environment, and you get the best of both worlds from those emotions being both real and not real. They are real in the way that you felt them, but they are unreal in the way that they won’t affect you as much as if you had experienced the heartache.

You feel the joy of escaping from traumatic behaviors, but you didn’t have to live through that trauma to get there.

The moment you stop reading is the moment you realise it isn’t real and that you can go about your day. The story has changed you, and now it is setting you loose on the real world.

Your objective is to leave, the tragedy’s is to come with you.

Final Thoughts

I want to be clear here. Subtlety does not equal good or bad writing. There is a general rule these days, especially on Tumblr, that complexity and effectiveness are the same thing, and I think this is bollocks.

Firstly, this is partly because people can’t tell the difference between subtlety and subtext, which is frustrating. Subtlety is a tool that you can use, subtext just happens whether you like it or not.

But second, this is Tumblr. People talk nonsense all the time. Some of the best posts on this website are a sentence of someone being as blunt or strange as they could possibly be and either being incredibly insightful or incredibly funny. Writing is about finding the right tool for the job. Sometimes that is a wood chisel, sometimes it’s a chainsaw.

Next week is the finale of this season, with Destiny Part 2. Stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[blueskittlesart]

I always felt bad for Link,reall,and Zelda. Link,the very first,started out as a normal kid. Now its thousands of years later and he is so old and so young and everything at once. A child with the soul of a hero,doomed from the start no matter what. People still name their kids Link even if they dont remember him. Zelda,she was a goddess,but she wanted love. She became human and then stayed that way,because she loved Link. He will always come back so she will. Forever,until the very gods die.

Zelda stayed because of love. She was mortal once and then forever,because she loved Link. She loved living. She loved it all and couldnt bear to leave it. Link always had to come back because Ganon would,because evil will always exist even if the hero stops it for a while. So she placed a peice of the triforce in each of them,even Ganon,so she would always be with him.

I assume these two asks were meant to go together lol? and i agree with a lot of your points about zelda, but i'd argue that LINK comes back for love too. the first link, the one we see in skyward sword, initially had NO connection to the goddess or demise or the triforce or anything. What he DID have was a connection to zelda, his best friend. The reason he initially goes to the surface is because she fell and he wants to help her. the reason he keeps going after her as she travels the surface and tries SO hard to push him away is because he loves his friend and he's worried about her. the soul of the hero irt zelda lore is something that a lot of people boil down to like. courage or fighting spirit or even just 'someone who is fated to fight ganon' as you kind of have here, but that interpretation of link's reincarnation ignores the reason any of this started: Link loved Zelda. it's all well and good that zelda loved link, and yes, she loved him so much she became human and stayed human and her descendants for the rest of time get to be human and know human love, too. but the reincarnation cycle doesn't work unless link loves zelda, too. if link never jumps off skyloft to follow his best friend, demise wins and the cycle never has a reason to start in the first place. If link never befriends a scared little princess in the palace garden and does what she asks not out of duty but because he UNDERSTANDS how powerless she must feel, the cycle never continues. if link never wears himself ragged fighting guardians to protect the girl he loves, the cycle never continues. Link is the hero's spirit, yes. the triforce of courage. but without love, what reason does he have to pick up the sword in the first place??

[bunnis-monsters]

A bunny hybrid reader that notices a male fox hybrid following them and watching from a far. Naturally you get nervous cause foxes prey on bunnies! But it turns out he’s very shy and wants to court a cute chubby bunny but doesn’t know how to. Maybe he’s also a soft dom with praise kink? 🤭

NSFW

warning: chasing(slight predator/prey?), breeding, praise kink

You had felt eyes on you since the moment you entered the forest you usually collected herbs from. It wasn’t exactly unusual to feel watched considering many other hybrids called the forest home… but today it felt… different.

You spotted a fleck or red, the shade making your fight or flight kick in.

Instantly you began sprinting, dropping your basket and booking it back to your cabin. You didn’t dare turn around, your poor heart racing as your fluffy bunny ears picked up the sound of running behind you.

“W-wait!”

You cried out in fear at the sound of your pursuer calling for you to stop, shaking your head. “N-no, go away!”

You reached your home, quickly locking your door and peering out the peep hole as your fluffy cotton tail twitched nervously.

There was a fox hybrid outside on your porch, sniffing the air and rubbing his face against every surface he could… was he leaving his scent there for later?

“Please come out… I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.”

This happened nearly every day for a month. The fox chased you, nearly running you over before you got into your cottage at the end of the day.

That was until you weren’t fast enough.

The fox had been studying the way you move, when you took the shortest of breaks to catch your breath, and when you quickened your pace again to get away. Bunnies were masters at escaping… but foxes were very smart.

You knew something was different this time. Call it instinct, call it just coincidence, but you noticed that he wasn’t running after you as fast as usual… and his eyes were following your every movement the entire time.

Like he already knew he was going to catch you… it was just a matter of time.

You were too slow as you turned a corner, slipping on some pine straw and crashing to the ground. In seconds he was on top of you, and all you could do was close your eyes and hoped he killed you quickly…

But his jaws never closed around your neck. After a few moments of silence, you opened your eyes to see him butting his head against you affectionately, his tail swaying behind him.

His eyes were half lidded, staring down at you with infatuation and adoration.

“I’ve finally got you, little bunny.”

He was absolutely glued to your side now, clinging tightly to you as you hesitantly made your way home. The fox seemed absolutely smitten, sometimes softly nipping at your fluffy ears or neck, startling you.

“So pretty… you smell so, so good…”

After dinner he curled up with you, his fluffy tail swaying as he kept rubbing his scent on your neck. Could he tell that you were close to your heat? Is that why he had become interested in you?

“I’ve wanted you for so long… you’re cute and just the softest thing I’ve ever seen… but it’s hard approaching a bunny when you’re a fox.”

Your cheeks heated up as he pressed against you, your cotton tail wagging furiously when his bulge rubbed against your clothed cunt.

It wasn’t long until your next heat cycle, and it was clear that he knew it too. He continued to purr as he grabbed hold of your hips, guiding your bunny cunt over his bulge slowly.

When you let out a stifled whine, he smiled, giving your soft bunny ear a nibble. “Mmm, that’s a good girl. You’re so soft and pretty, let me take care of you, sweetheart…”

Within seconds he had your panties off, his fingers stretching your whole. As they pumped in and out of you, his lips met yours in a needy kiss.

His tongue explores your mouth, entangling with yours. It was hard to think with all these new sensations…

“Come on, bunny… lemme see that pretty pussy of yours, hmm?”

You shyly opened your legs, and he moved to position his cock at your entrance. At this point you were whining and bucking your hips, ready to be mated.

It was reassuring when he held onto your hand as his cock sunk into your fat bunny cunt, his face burying itself into your neck.

“F-fuck, so good… god…”

His grip on your hips tightened, the soft flesh warm against his hand. He’d never had something so soft and cute underneath him… you were amazing…

It felt too good, his cock was rubbing and touching all of the best spots, making your clit throb. As soon as he noticed, he moved his hand to rub circles around your clit while he picked up speed.

As he fucked into you, whining into your neck, he said the cutest things.

“I love you… love you so much, so fucking pretty…” he blubbered, his teeth grazing against your neck before he bit you.

“G-gonna… gonna knock you up, okay? Gonna be my cute little mate…”

Those words had your walls fluttering around him, your toes curling as the two of you came together.

After coming down from your respective highs, he became a bit shy again, giving your cheek a tentative lick. “You did well, pretty girl…”

You simply butted your head against him affectionately, returning his soft purrs.

Now, you had a mate, a sweet one at that. You didn’t have to worry about other bunnies bothering you when a fox called your cottage home.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

[gurugirl]

Use Me Up | boyfriend's best friend!h

Originally posted on Patreon!

Summary: Harry's your boyfriend's best friend and he's very hard to resist.

Word Count: 7,072

Warning: smut, cheating, lying, alcohol consumption

| Main Masterlist | Send me an ask! |

Look at him. Dark curls, soft green eyes, broad shoulders. All fit and tattooed with that dirty smirk aimed in your direction. It’d been like that all night. When no one was looking his eyes were on you.

Harry Styles. The object of desire for so many women. But the problem for you was that he was your boyfriend’s best friend. You should have been off-limits. He shouldn’t have even been taking part in your daydreams.

You rolled your eyes at him as Colin knocked his beer over.

Everyone had a couple too many drinks at that point. Your boyfriend, the worst off.

“Here,” you leaned down and righted the spilled can to halt the beer from pouring out.

Colin fell back into the couch and laughed as you got up to take the nearly empty can to the trash.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!”

“I actually think it’s time for a little water,” you countered.

Walking into the kitchen you took a breath and grabbed two cups for water. You needed some as well. You’d been hitting the strawberry lime seltzers kind of hard since you arrived at Ivy’s and you were feeling the alcohol.

“Need help?”

You turned to look over your shoulder as you shut off the faucet.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle this,” you laughed as you raised your hands, a cup of water in each.

Harry reached into the fridge to grab himself another beer, “All right. Was just being nice. You done drinking for the night?”

“Probably. Colin is for sure done. Gonna have to carry him home I think.”

“I’ll help you. I can tell he’s well past his limit. There’s no way you’re going to have an easy go of it with him. He’s like Gumby when he gets drunk.”

You laughed and Harry licked his lips as he watched you. You hated (but you loved it) when he licked his lips while he was looking at you. It elicited memories of the not-so-long-ago past.

. .

You arrived at Colin’s a little early but you knew Harry’d be there and he’d let you in until Colin showed up.

He got you a soda from the fridge and you both went into the living room where he showed you their new record player.

“It’s got great sound and check this out,” he pulled out an album and placed it over the turntable showing you how the tone arm lowered automatically and cycled the vinyl around to the perfect spot to begin at the first song.

“Oh, that’s cool!” You watched as he clicked a button and sound started playing through the speakers. It was an old popular 70s rock song, “The sound quality really is good.”

He snapped his fingers and began to move his hips as he grinned at you so you placed your soda down and mimicked him, swaying and laughing as you snapped your fingers.

Behind Harry’s grin, you saw something else. The way he licked his lips, his eyes traveled over your curves, and he slunk in closer as he moved to the music- it held some kind of intensity that you weren’t sure how to work out. One thing was for sure; Harry was a flirt and your boyfriend was not home.

“You’re cute,” Harry said it so flippantly as he jutted his chin up and kept his eyes on yours.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah right…”

But he did this thing that had you feeling a slurry of scorching lava under your fingertips as he bit into his bottom lip with his eyelids drooped gently, pupils winding over your hips while you continued to move and he pulled your hand into his, redirecting your flow until you were practically dancing in his arms.

“You know you’re cute. What are you doing dating Colin anyway?”

His hand wound over your hip as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I…” you laughed and shook your head. You weren’t sure what he was doing but it had you reeling. His heavy presence and deep voice, the music lulling you into surrender, his pretty bright eyes, that evil grin… It definitely wasn’t the first time he’d flirted with you in private.

“You’re too good for him, Y/n,” he spoke smoothly, his face nearing yours and his voice dripping with lusty deception.

“I doubt that, Harry,” you spoke just above a whisper as he slithered around you until his hands were holding your hips and your back was against his chest. You knew it was wrong. You knew you should have stopped but you didn’t want to.

And when you felt his breath on the back of your ear and he pressed his hips against your bum you softly gasped but made no move to stop him. He was too close and his lips were practically brushing against the shell of your ear as he kept swaying you in step with his movements, hips glued to your backside, and then he moaned. The sound vibrating off your neck and making goosebumps rise up on your skin.

You closed your eyes and settled your hands over his when he let out another graveled moan into your ear, “You like this don’t you? Need more attention from Colin than he can give you…”

It was true. You were a bit needy while Colin was a bit cold, aloof. But it’d always been that way with you two and you’d settled and gotten used to the way he was. However, that didn’t mean you didn’t miss attention. And Harry was suddenly filling in the small gaps left behind from Colin’s apathy.

But the moment you heard the keys in the door, Harry moved away from you just as deftly as he’d pulled you against his chest and acted like nothing had happened. 

. .

You forced Colin to drink his whole cup of water and by the time he’d finished he was already half asleep. It was time to go and Harry accompanied you.

“You don’t have to help,” you said as the three of you climbed into the back of a taxi together.

“Look at him, Y/n. What makes you think he’s gonna be able to walk to the door on his own? You certainly can’t carry him. Besides, I live at the same house and it was time for me to go as well. Saves us money anyway, yeah?”

You nodded. He had a point you supposed.

You were smushed between Harry and Colin in the backseat. Colin was like a limp noodle against you while Harry was warm and solid and somehow he took up so much more space than you imagined he would.

“You’re gonna stay over, right?” Harry looked down at you.

“I figured I would, yeah. It’s not a problem?”

Harry chuckled and looked out his window before putting his big palm over his thigh, knocking against your knee, “Of course it’s not a problem. I love it when you’re over.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off his pinky finger which was nudged against your jeans. You weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or if it was just because the space was so tight but you certainly didn’t mind it. Looking over at your boyfriend his mouth was dropped open and his eyes were closed. Out cold.

“He’s not waking up for the rest of the night,” Harry spoke quietly, his lips aimed toward your ear.

You gulped when Harry shifted the slightest, pressing his side into yours, and began moving his hand over his jeans-clad thigh, his pinky brushing over your own jeans-clad thigh.

When you arrived at the house, Harry pulled Colin out of the backseat and lifted him into his arms bridal style. You laughed at the sight and followed the men toward the door.

“Keys are in my front left pocket,” Harry said as he jutted his hips out and looked at you with a smirk.

You sighed and slid your fingers into his pocket, which was a bit tight, but you pushed in until you felt the metal and looped your finger into one of the key rings to pull at it.

Harry sucked in a breath through his teeth, “There you go, Y/n. Just like that.” Harry said it as if you were doing something naughty to him.

Unlocking the door you stepped in and held it open for Harry, who walked past you and took his best friend to his bed, laying his head on the pillow and then removed his boots. You watched from the doorway of Colin’s room as Harry took care of him, light shining into his room from the hallway.

Harry grunted when he pulled the last boot off and then got up to leave the room, closing the door behind himself.

You pointed toward the doorknob, “I’m probably just gonna call it a night actually.”

Harry pressed his lips together, hiding the grin that was trying to take over his features, “Nahh… stay up a little longer with me. Don’t go to bed yet.”

It was a terrible idea. You weren’t being forced to follow him away from Colin’s room. You weren’t being manipulated or deceived. You were curious, though. Wondered what might happen if given the chance.

You both had a bottle of water as you sat on the stool near the record player and Harry sat on the couch across from you, his legs spread apart.

“Why you all the way over there?” He licked his goddamn lips again as he looked at you with what could only be described as bedroom eyes; that half-lidded, sultry gaze.

 “I don’t know. I just sat here is all,” you shrugged and capped your water bottle before placing it on the floor by your feet.

“You got work tomorrow?” He asked as he crossed an ankle over his knee before his ring-clad fingers ran up and down his thick thighs.

“No. I don’t work Sundays. What about you?” You already knew the answer.

“Nope. Means we can stay up as late as we want. Colin won’t wake up til afternoon anyway. When he gets like this he’s a log.”

You laughed and nodded, “Yeah. I’ve seen him like this a few times. You’re right.”

“Why don’t you put a record on,” he gestured toward the turn table next to you.

You squatted down to go through the records, tracing your fingers over the dust jackets until you found one that had a mix of popular 70s songs, “You guys have a lot of 70s music.”

Harry crouched down next to you to see which album you were looking at, “S’cause these are all used and plus 70s music is pretty good, yeah?” He grinned at you, taking the record from your hands and stood up, “Want this one?”

You nodded and watched him put the vinyl on the record player and then hit the button for the music to begin. The song that started to play sounded like something instrumental at first but then you heard the first line Got a black magic woman…

Harry turned to look down at you and began bobbing his head and rolling his shoulders, moving to the music. You laughed at him. He was being a little goofy with his movements but the dimpled grin on his face was evidence that he was trying to make you laugh. You swung your arms then raised them over your head and spun around with your hips swaying.

You and Harry kept moving to the song and then he was behind you, singing the words to the song when you felt him moving in step with you, “She’s tryin’ to make a devil out of me… Don’t turn your back on me baby…”

You laughed as he sang just loud enough for you to hear his raspy voice in your ear.

“Is my singing funny to you,” you felt his hand on your arm, nudging you back toward him.

You turned to look back at him over your shoulder, “You’re just funny, Harry. You’re being goofy.”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m goofy?” He held your arm as he pressed his chest into your back and continued singing, “Stop messin’ ‘round with your tricks…Don’t turn your back on me, baby… You just might pick up my magic sticks…”

You moved with the music and couldn’t help the cheesy grin on your face as he brought a hand down to your hip while his other stayed wrapped around your upper arm.

He sang his breathy words into your ear and it made your skin to heat but the way he was holding you against his body had your resolve crumbling. Not that you had much resolve to begin with.

“Yes, you got your spell on me, baby… Turnin’ my heart into stone… I need you so bad magic woman, I can’t leave you alone…”

You moaned, the top row of your teeth jammed into your bottom lips and he squeezed at your hip as his lips grazed against your ear.

You knew this would happen. When you were looking through the albums you wondered if he’d get up and dance with you. If he’d pull you into his arms and seduce you like he nearly did that time before. Or any of the other times he flirted with you or touched your skin, or whispered compliments into your ear when Colin wasn’t paying attention. There was only so much a girl could take when a man like Harry was coming on to her.

And who would ever know?

You raised your arms and drew your hands to the back of his neck as he continued swaying you in his arms, his crotch glued to your bum and you felt every bit of him pressed into you. His hot exhale on your neck was damp on your skin just before his pink lips found your flesh.

It sent a crackle of electricity through your spine as he began to kiss your soft skin slowly and when the song changed you found yourself being turned in his arms, all blurry and hot and thirsting when you felt his mouth smeared against yours.

He cradled the back of your head as his lips pressed plush kisses to your mouth and then his tongue slid over yours.

You’d stopped moving altogether and instead just stood next to the record player as the music played and you made out with Harry. If Colin walked in you didn’t know if you’d be able to even stop then. Harry’s lips and his tongue and his hands were rewiring your brain chemistry and all you wanted was him.

A cracked moan fell from your chest as Harry pulled away, his eyes locked on yours as he tugged at you, moving you toward his bedroom.

The Bill Withers song was still playing in the background as you were led to his room.

I want to spread the news… That if it feels this good getting used… Oh, you just keep on using me… Until you use me up…

He shut his door and the sound of the song was muffled but when he put his hands on your hips and his soft lips found yours you grabbed his t-shirt and pulled at him until you were both on his bed, limbs tangled and mouths wound together.

He rolled to his back and pulled you over his legs so you were straddling his thighs on top of him as you kept kissing and groaning into his mouth.

You could feel how hard he was in his jeans as you rolled your pelvis gently down and he hissed, “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna be able to stop, Y/n.”

You laughed into his mouth and pulled away to look down at him, “What are we doing, Harry?”

He let out a breathy chuckle as he kept a hold of your hips, “We’re doing something very bad is what we’re doing.”

Biting your lip you looked at his kiss-swollen mouth and back into his eyes, “We shouldn’t though, right? This is bad.”

He licked his lips, “We shouldn’t. But who’s gonna stop us?” His big hands moved down to your thighs. “What if it’s just our little secret? No one has to know.”

You dropped your lips back down over his in an unspoken agreement. No one ever had to know. It’d be your dirty little secret. A naughty indulgence to never be spoken of again.

When you felt his fingers smooth up to the bottom hem of your shirt you felt him tugging it upward. Halting the movement of your mouth against his you sat up and shucked it from your torso. His hands immediately found your tits as you unhooked the back of your bra and the moment your nipples were bare to him he sat up, one arm winding around your low back as his hand cupped your fleshy breast and he ducked to pull it into his mouth.

Wet saliva coated each of your tits as Harry wove his mouth back and forth on your skin and your nipples. You slid your fingers into his hair and moaned as he leaned you back further until your back was on his mattress and he was hovering over you, undoing your jeans button.

You looked up at him and pulled at his t-shirt. You wanted to see more of him. You’d seen his bare chest before. You’d seen him in just running shorts a few times. The man was ungodly. Tattoos, chiseled pecs, and soft abs with masculine hair scattered over his chest. Strong arms that could crush and thighs that allowed him the sort of endurance you were sure would come in handy that very night. He was broad and dense, heavy and sexy as fuck.

When his skin was on view you ran your hands over his shoulders and down to his pecs as he began to undo his own jeans. You quickly pushed your fingers into your waistband and yanked your jeans down your legs until you were just left in stretchy red boyshorts.

Harry groaned and kicked his jeans off and then crawled back over you, carefully fitting himself between your thighs and laying his hips against yours, his hard cock, hidden by the thin layer of his boxers, rested over your pussy as he slowly rocked himself down. You lifted your hips upward to feel his girth and the heat of him between your legs.

Dry humping. You hadn’t done it since your first year of college. Guys tended to go right for getting naked and getting something wet as soon as possible.

Though, technically Harry was getting something wet. Between his tongue on your lips and your pussy secreting arousal with every nudge of his dick against your clit there was nothing dry about dry humping in that moment. Even his boxers were getting wet the longer you two went at it.

He began to move himself down your body, taking more time to lavish your breasts with his tongue and his lips before he licked into your belly button triggering a giggle to bubble out of your mouth. He placed his hands on your hips and dug his fingers under the elastic band at the top of your underwear and began to pull at them, to which you lifted your hips so he could tug them off.

Smoothing his big palms up the outside of your thighs to your hips he kept his eyes on the glistening space between your legs and puffed out a breath, “This is all mine tonight?” He looked up at you and it was dripping hedonistic lust as his thumbs slid down over the soft flesh of your pelvis.

You nodded and breathed out a yes before he slowly poked his tongue out to lick his lips and lowered his mouth to the space next to his thumb, a warm kiss smushed into your skin before it sliced a damp path inward to your mons. You were spinning and blubbering under him as he gripped onto the underside of your thigh and held you apart.

Your body was trembling before he even laid his tongue over your pussy but when he finally pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to your clit you could have just perished right then. You balled up the blanket under you in your fists as he began to run his tongue up and down your wet pussy.

You sputtered out a string of curses and rolled your hips up when he slid his fingers over your entrance and prodded in.

“Mmm…” he lifted his face to look up at you, “Y/n… you’re so wet for me. Gonna need to sneak tastes of your pussy anytime Colin isn’t around.”

You couldn’t respond other than to moan his name and thread your fingers into his hair when he reattached his lips.

There was something about the way Harry did it, the way he licked at your pussy and kissed your clit, the way he drove his fingers into your cunt and moaned over you that was so sultry and hungry… it was like he needed it, like he was desperate for it. For you.

The house was quiet. It was lucky Colin slept like the dead when he got drunk like that or you’d have to worry about him hearing. But as it was, Harry’s bedroom was filled with the sound of something lewd and wet and achy. Moans coming from you and from him, your pussy getting worked by his fingers and his mouth, the shift of bodies over blankets and the subtle creaking of his bed as he dug into your pussy with more fervor.

 And you really tried not thinking about the way Colin did it versus how Harry was doing it but you were amazed at what a little enthusiasm could feel like. Colin ate you out, sure, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t a man with a primal need to make you feel good and stake some kind of claim on you. Colin’s method was more like a means to an end. A way to get you nice and wet so he could stick his dick inside of you.

Harry’s method was an animalistic craving. He wasn’t eating you out nicely with a soft tongue and a few slurps. No. This was something else. He was devouring you. Sloppy and sopping. He dragged his tongue over you like it was his fucking job. The one arm he had wrapped around you, was anchoring you to his mouth. You couldn’t escape him if you wanted. This man wasn’t taking it easy. When he lifted you slightly, he scooted in closer and removed his fingers from your pussy and licked up the wet spots on your inner thighs and down your bum before he spread you back open with two of his fingers again and got back to ravaging your clit.

You had to release his hair and go back to gripping the blankets as you felt your body wash away into the atmosphere, floating and buzzing and melting as you lay helpless under his weight and his tongue.

You were certain it was going to be a mess when he was done with you. There wasn’t anything dry between your legs nor on his face. The heat and the moisture rose until there was nothing left for you to do but come. And come and come…

He had his fingers pressed into your front wall massaging your g-spot as he sucked and drew your clit into his mouth. You couldn’t stop shaking or crying for what felt like minutes upon minutes.

But then it was too much and you squeaked a laugh as you tried lifting and pulling away but when you pushed at his forehead he swatted you away and grunted, not letting up on the doggish way he was eating you.

“Oh my god! Fuck, Harry!” You bellowed into his room and tried closing your legs and moving to roll to your side but he had you pinned down and it seemed only to egg him on. His eyes flitted up to yours and in warning to keep still, not that you had much choice. He wasn’t budging nor letting you pull away from his mouth as he continued fucking you with those long fingers and lapping all around your hot, pulsing clit.

But then you saw the slight smirk as he lifted for air before he dove down again and slid his tongue quickly over your clit and the sensitive, too-much feeling turned into a liquid ache and then desire as you felt you second orgasm begin to prick and burst until it was forced out of you like a torture method. Come or else…

So you came again. Not against your will but not by your own accord. It was automatic. You couldn’t stop it from happening.

You were drifting into the ether when he finally, fucking finally, pulled his mouth and his fingers away. When you opened your eyes he was smirking down at you, like he was proud of the state he’d left you in.

“What?” You croaked out as your chest heaved violently.

“I’m serious. Gonna need to do that to you as often as possible. Whenever Colin’s not looking. Damn you’re hot, Y/n. Fuck…” he ran his hands over your sides and up your torso to your nipples where he circled over them with his thumbs, “Wish I’d gotten to you first.”

You pushed yourself to sit up, “You… he’s your best friend, though. I mean… I just think…” you huffed, not fully having your wits about you after what he’d just done to you, “God… I wouldn’t be able to say no, but this is bad, Harry. Don’t you think this should be a one-time thing? Like, we should never do this again, right?”

You watched him lick his lips and swallow and that’s when you noticed he had your arousal down his neck. The guy had gone in so intensely on your pussy that you dripped down his neck. You supposed he had reason to be proud.

“We’ll see, won’t we? I’m not a great friend, I’ll admit. But you’re not a great girlfriend either are you? Doing this behind his back the way we are… it’s bad, but fuck if I don’t want to steal you away from him.”

You puffed a laugh through your nose and ran a hand over your face. You couldn’t believe you were cheating in the first place. It was insane. You weren’t a cheater.

But actually… you were a cheater. You were lying in your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed completely naked and freshly zonked from two orgasms. You were absolutely a cheater.

Harry pulled at your thigh, dragging you closer to him and he cradled the back of your head with his hand and kissed you so deeply you nearly forgot Colin’s name for a moment. You could feel his erection, stiff and hot against your inner thigh and you were compelled to run your hand over his boxers to grip him and feel it in your hand.

You gasped into his mouth and parted from the kiss to look down at the monster you were holding in your palm. Looking back up at Harry with your lips parted in lust you were suddenly hyper-aware that the man you were in bed with was going to fuck you with that thing and if he was as good with his cock as he was with his mouth… you were surely doomed.

“What is it?” He asked you with hooded eyes and a syrupy, deep, lusty voice. He knew what it was. The man was more than aware of the kind of advantage he had in that area.

You squeezed around him let your palm travel up the length of it over his boxers and pressed over his tip, “Let me see it.”

He grinned at you silently as he pulled at his boxers and brought them down, his thick shaft lobbing out, heavy and stiff. You let out a moan and moved back, getting to your knees and holding him at the root against his pubic hair before tonguing over him and drawing your saliva down the length of him.

Harry hissed as he leaned back, palms flat against his mattress as he watched you suck on him for a moment, lips working over his tip and wetting him with your spit. You moaned again and pulled off of him, “God, Harry. Fuck…”

He held the back of your head as you dipped down again and took him in your mouth, wrapping your lips around him and gorging on the taste and feel of him. It was smooth and hot against your tongue. He was wide, bulbous. But you couldn’t help the way just the look and feel of his cock had your already weeping pussy flutter and clench at the thought of him driving into you with it.

“You like that, don’t you? God, you’re supposed to mine, Y/n. Oh fuck that feels good…”

Your insides were feeling too hollow, your walls straining together to feel something that would take up the empty space. You popped off of his tip, saliva dripping down your chin, “Fuck me. Please.”

Harry tilted his head to the side, “Already? You don’t need a minute to recover? You that greedy, baby?”

“I am right now,” you pulled at his boxers to get rid of them. Harry put his hands into the band of his underwear and took them off completely.

“Just right now? So tomorrow we’ll go back to normal then,” he crawled over you, making your back hit the mattress as his hand found your tit, “Pretend this never happened and never do it again, yeah?”

You panted and reached around his back to pull him down, “I don’t know…” you whined and bucked your hips up, “Just… right now is all I can think about. Please…”

“A bit cockdumb huh? You’re not thinking straight, are you?”

You scrunched your face and pouted, “What? Just fuck me, Harry!”

He grinned at you and shook his head in disbelief, “No condom then?”

You’d forgotten. You were always so good about using condoms and being the one on top of that decision with Colin. Only a few times did you ever let him fuck you without one and it was only when you were 100% sure it was not during your fertile window and he wasn’t allowed to come inside you anyway.

“Fuck…” you breathed out and whined as you raised your hips upward, pressing your wet pussy against his cock, “Just fuck me. I don’t even care right now. I’m gonna lose my mind…”

Harry grabbed your chin and his eyes pierced into you as he spoke, “Are you on birth control?”

You shook your head, “No. But… god…” you writhed under him.

Harry let out a burst of a laugh, still shaking his head, “Damn. Did I do this to you? Baby you’re gonna regret it if you let me fuck you raw. That’s asking for trouble.”

“Just… goddamnit…” you closed your eyes and groaned. You wanted him right then. You were sure you’d never acted like such a slut before but Harry’s body and his deep voice, his eyes, the way the front of his thighs were pressed into the back of yours… He could just slip right in and pound away and you’d feel all of him. Every ridge and wrinkle, hot velvet gliding through your gummy channel, drinking him in…

When you raised your hips again, your eyes on his he nudged himself down toward you, his cock sliding through your pussylips, slicking up and down and jabbing at your clit you clung to his back tight.

“You want it? Like this?” He placed his forearm down on the bed alongside your shoulder as he rocked down over you, his tip traveling over your pussy and getting drenched in your juice.

“Mmm… Harry… yes…”

He softly kissed your lips as he rutted up and slid back, “You’re gonna let me fuck you bare? In this bedroom right here, next to your boyfriend’s? You sure?”

You nodded, your nose bumping against his as you breathed out the word please.

He parted from the kiss and set his eyes on yours as he flexed his thighs and poked at your hole gently with his tip. He teased you for a bit, only gently pressing just the very tip of himself into you until suddenly and all once he forced his crown through your tight, pulsing muscle, opening you up and burying himself in until his balls were tucked against your ass.

You both let out a loud and pathetic mewl at the sensation and you could feel him shaking already. It was decadent and rude and sumptuous and unbearable. It was so wrong. So bad but so fucking delightful.

He began to slowly thrust as he kept his gaze pinned to yours, “Okay? Feel good?”

You moaned as you nodded and kept a tight grasp on his back, wrapping your legs around him so you could keep yourself grounded. So that you knew it was real. That Harry was actually fucking you with his big cock and you weren’t just dreaming it.

“Yeah? Feel all of me like this, don’t you? Needed me so bad and now you’ve got me, baby. Gonna give you my cock whenever you want it. Sneak around behind Colin’s back and keep it secret. He’ll never know. Could fuck you all night and all morning and he’ll wake up tomorrow with no idea of the filthy kind of girl you are.”

“Mmmm… fuck!” You whined as he plunged deep inside your guts. You’d never had anyone so thick and long before. And it was just a bonus that it was attached to a man like Harry. It shouldn’t have surprised you that someone with the kind of confidence he had would be so hung.

“Mmmm… fuck is right… that feels so fucking good. I had a feeling your pussy would be made for me,” he panted his words as he worked into you, thighs flexing against yours.

Your noises were uncontrollable. You had no ability to restrain yourself. You truly were intoxicated, incapacitated, obtunded. Delirious. Which Harry seemed to get a kick out of.

“You’ve never had it like this before, have you? I know what you had to deal with,” he gasped when you gripped tight around and dug your nails into his back, “Colin’s a lazy boyfriend. You need more attention and I can see that. Gonna give you all the attention you can handle if you want it, Y/n…”

Harry pulled back, making your legs fall from his back as he lowered his lips to your tits, curling himself over you as he continued fucking into you, sucking your nipples into his mouth and running his tongue over your sensitive nubs one at a time.

It was debauched gluttony. Harry was so much better in bed than Colin and it almost wasn’t fair. But you couldn’t even feel an ounce of guilt because it was the best thing you’d ever felt. Harry sucked your nipples hard as his cock wrecked your insides, running his hand along the outside of your soft breast and then to the other side, continuing the pace at which he rocked into you. His bed only creaked in time with his thrusts, slow and steady, but the sound of your sodden pussy taking his big cock was salacious and lewd.

Every stroke of his long dick through your pussy walls felt like damnation and salvation all at once. You weren’t sure you’d be the same after. Weren’t sure you wouldn’t be begging him for more every time Colin wasn’t watching. Harry had ruined you.

Harry’s gasps and pants against your tits grew more desperate and you could feel him throbbing inside of you, nudging deep into your tummy and slowly rearing back, his cock coated and sticky with you before plunging it all back inside of you again.

He steadied himself, lifting up to look down at you as he began to fuck into you a little harder, his bed bouncing a little more with the sound of skin slapping together and your punched moans filled the room.

Every time he buried himself in he ground his pelvis against your clit and it sent fireworks through your nervous system. You grabbed onto his thighs as he rutted into you, deep and desperate strokes that split you wide open and made you drool it felt so good. Harry’s chest was sweating as he held your hips down and circled his groin against you, his moans growing louder and whinier as he watched you slowly come undone.

“Give me another one, baby. Show me how good it feels when I fuck you. Better than it’s ever felt with anyone else…”

Harry had something to prove.

You could hardly think straight. The man was fucking out any logic or sense in your brain but you didn’t want to have rational thoughts that interrupted what was happening. You wanted Harry and his cock. You wanted to be fucked by him just like he was for all time. To hell with Colin and his sorry excuse for lovemaking. Harry was a real man with pleasure to give.

The breath was kicked from your lungs when the tight coil in your tummy began to unravel and the yummiest, most transcendent orgasm you’d ever experienced began to take over. The only thing you registered was Harry’s cock pounding into you and words of encouragement egging you on as the mattress squeaked violently under you. His words were unclear but you could hear the starved and whimpery moans falling from his mouth between words.

You trembled and quaked as you spasmed over him, the glide of his heavy cock through your guts squelched and ached as you gasped for air and finally began to discern what was happening when Harry frantically pulled his cock from your pussy and climbed over you, taking your face in his hand and dipped his pussy flavored dick into your lips where you felt him pumping warm, creamy come down your throat and onto your tongue. You grabbed onto his ass with both hands and pulled at him, beckoning him to stuff his whole fat cock into your esophagus.

The grunts and moans he let fall from his chest were the sexiest thing you’d ever heard from any man. Colin wasn’t vocal at all. When Colin came he’d pinch his face up like he was in pain or disgusted by the flavor of something and silently sigh with his mouth open.

But Harry… Harry wasn’t holding back. He was moaning as he thrust his cock into your mouth and slapped his hand on the headboard to steady himself, “Fuck…”

When you’d siphoned every drop from him, he gently pulled his meaty cock from your mouth and you coughed, gasping for air. Harry laid himself on the bed next to you and cupped your cheek, “You all right,” he panted.

You moaned and wiped the back of your hand over your mouth and rolled to face him, “Yeah I’m all right. Better than all right I’d say.”

Harry laughed, moving his hand from your face and fondled your breast in his palm, smushing at it and thumbing over your nipple, “You down to keep doing this with me?”

You sighed and ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek as you placed your palm on his chest, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be craving that from now on.”

He grinned, “Be craving what?”

“You. The way you do it. I…” you laughed, “I’ve never come three times in a row like that for any man.”

“So you want me to give you lots of cummies?” He snorted a laugh, “Need me to take care of you when Colin can’t.”

“When you say it like that… god it sounds so bad doesn’t it?”

“It is bad, Y/n. We are two very bad people who just did something very awful to someone. But I certainly don’t want to stop.”

“I mean… I don’t know if I can stop now. That was…”

“The best.”

You nodded. It was the best. And you knew you’d have regrets and the guilt would come at some point. But in that moment after being expertly fucked and properly taken care of you could think of nothing better than to do it again and again and again. As often as you could get away with it.

“How long do you think we can keep doing this? Like we’ll have to be lying all the time and sneaking around.”

“If we’re quiet and sneaky enough, as long as we want.”

You bit into your bottom lip and giggled, “That was a smart move. Not coming inside of me. Was gonna let you, ya know.”

Harry sat up with a smirk, “I know you were gonna. But I think fucking my best friend’s girl raw is quite enough mistakes for one night. As much as I wanted to fill you up we’ll have to save that one for a rainy day.”

You sat up with him, clothes all strewn about on the floor and at the foot of his bed, “A rainy day, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry pinched your thigh before hopping off the bed out of your reach with a laugh, “And I think it’s only fair that you sleep in here with me tonight,” he slid his boxers up his legs, “Colin’s not gonna wake up until late so we’ll have plenty of time before he’s conscious.”

Harry tossed you his t-shirt and you pulled it over your head, “Why’s that only fair?”

Harry shrugged, “Cause I like to cuddle and Colin’s passed out so might as well let me have some since I probably won’t get to do it very often.”

You slid off his bed and pulled your arms over his shoulders, “That’s kind of sweet, Harry.”

“So you’ll stay in here with me tonight?”

“Without a doubt.”

You were both so fucked.

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Courting, Pining, or Flirting? 

Characters: All NRC students x reader (seperately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Genre: fluff

Do the NRC boys court you, pine for you, or flirt with you? 

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts will do his best in courting you. Raised to be strict and formal, he has virtually no idea of what love is, or how to express it. The best he got was the fairytales of princesses and knights in his childhood. So he’ll follow their lead to the best of his ability. Riddle will give you his blazer jacket, and take your arm in his when navigating crowded hallways- he’ll even bow to you when saying goodnight, placing a tender kiss on your hand. Riddle might need a bit of a confidence boost before he performs a moonlight soliloquy under your balcony, though. 

Ace Trappola, unsurprisingly, enjoys flirting with you. What can he say, he’s a fun-loving guy! That extends to all parts of his life, including you. When the two of you are watching movies on his laptop in Ramshackle Dorm, he’ll tug the blanket away, forcing you to cuddle up to him for warmth. One day in class, a crumpled paper ball will hit you on the shoulder, reading: DO YOU LIKE ME? YES/NO ;) It’s childish, but somehow endearing.

Deuce Spade, ever the gentleman, will try (keyword: try) his best in courting you. His mom didn’t raise a brat! Listening to her advice, he’ll buy you flowers, ask you out on the weekends, and drape his jacket over your shoulders when you get cold. It’s a lot less smooth than it sounds, though. He’ll be a blushing, stuttering mess the entire time and accidentally spill his plans to you before he can execute them. Then he’ll apologize and spill even more of his plans- and alas, the cycle continues. 

Trey Clover is surprisingly good at flirting! Trey is confident in his ability to charm people. Even the most uptight of Prefects tend to relax a little around him. Of course, the delicious handmade pastries he often brings along with him are just a bonus. They’re an easy way to strike up a conversation with you, getting you to spill more and more about yourself to him. He’s comfortable to talk to, isn’t he? Oh, is that baked good your favorite? Expect a box of them to show up on your desk within the next week, along with a coy little note: Sweets for the sweet. 

Cater Diamond, on the surface, is definitely into flirting. He chases anything and everything within a fifty-meter radius of himself, and giving his posts on Magicam so much as a comment will result in a Hey cutie ;) popping up in your DM notifications at 1 AM. But with a person that Cater truly loves, face to face, he won’t do anything more than stay by your side as a supportive friend, pining from afar. He’s afraid of messing this up. Do you even see him that way? Please say you do. 

SAVANACLAW

Leona Kingscholar does all three, in the order of pining, courting, and flirting. Hear me out: Leona pines, but not in a hopeless way. Instead, he just figures that he doesn’t have the time or emotional investment for a relationship. But once the feelings began to grow, Leona gets desperate. He doesn’t want opportunities to slip through his fingers without doing anything. So he’ll begin subtly hanging out with you more, until it reaches the courting stage. At that point, he becomes visibly softer and less harsh around you. He’ll only really be comfortable flirting and being playful with you once you’re in an established relationship, not before. 

Ruggie Bucchi is into casual flirting- Well, he’s into it until he realizes he’s fallen so hard that he can’t climb back out. It’s all fun and games to him at first. Oh, you want to pet his ears? Maybe trading that cookie of yours from the lunch buffet would be suitable collateral. You think he looks good in the PE uniform? There’s more where that came from. Want him to accompany you on a late-night errand? Of course! He loves spending time with you- Wait, when did that happen? 

Jack Howl follows his sharp instincts on everything, and every sign is pointing at him courting you like a true gentleman. He knows he’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got no problem cleaning his act up for you. Putting on a suit and tie and using a bit of gel in his hair and around his ears is a small price to pay for your affection. He’s not particularly shy about showing you he has feelings for you, but outright telling you might take a bit more time and effort.

OCTAVINELLE

Azul Ashengrotto is painfully, unequivocally deep in pining for you. There’s just no way around it is there? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to crawl into his tako pot and hide when you’re around. You’re on his mind every second of every day, and he lays in bed every night wondering if you see him the same way. Is he handsome to you? Is he smart? He wants to hold you so bad but he won’t do it until you tell him yes, I like you too, first.

Jade Leech, ever the calm, collected one, excels at smooth flirting. He just knows you like him as much as he likes you, and he’s not afraid to point it out. It’s not like you’re subtle about it either- with the way you sit in a corner booth of Mostro Lounge for hours, just to be able to talk with him after-hours over leftover pastries and tea. You wouldn’t mind if he did this with you more often, would you? 

Floyd Leech has his unique way of flirting, just like everything else in his life. You’re just so exciting, Shrimpy! Won’t you tell him a little more about your day? Even just the little things, like how many pages of notes you took in History of Magic class or an answer to a test question or two- he’s kidding, he’s kidding! All jokes aside, Floyd truly does enjoy your company and the ways you spice up his life. 

SCARABIA

Kalim Al-Asim does none of the three, surprisingly. He’s so bright it might not even occur to you that he’s interested until you’re already three layers deep. He’s always been a friendly person, so when he begins inviting you to hang out all the time, you wouldn’t give it a second thought. It’s only when you notice him trying to do things for you rather than just with you do you realize his feelings might run a little deeper than just friendship. He tries to be chivalrous, but it usually just comes off as him playing at being your prince charming. The closest you could get to describing what Kalim does is playful, friendly courting- albeit a very unconventional form of it. 

Jamil Viper is used to never getting what he wants. Somewhere along the line he stopped trying. So when you step into his life, shining but not blinding like Kalim, he hesitates. Is he ready to take such a risk? All he knows for sure is that he wants you in his life… someday. So quietly, in between classes and in the hallways, he’ll be pining for you from afar- hoping you’ll make the first move, so that he won’t have to worry about Kalim whisking you away.

POMEFIORE

Vil Schoenheit thinks he has never met someone so beautiful before. You might even be half as beautiful as he is! It’s a huge compliment coming from someone like him. You’re also half as smart, almost as strong, and maybe he’d consider taking you out for lunch- but don’t get it twisted! He’s doing this out of the goodness of his heart. (He likes you. He really likes you. Please date him.) It’s not very good flirting, but he’s trying his best.

Rook Hunt is flamboyant and genuine in everything he does, which includes flirting with you, his longtime crush. You have the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen! Would you mind if he admired it for a while? He’ll brag about you to everyone around him, much to the irritation of Vil, who finds it offensive that his biggest supporter has ‘betrayed’ him for another. Rook doesn’t care, though. If you so pleased, he’d be more than happy to walk you to your next class. Anything to bask in your unmatched beauty just a few seconds longer. 

Epel Felmier is good at flirting, and he’s confident about it too! A rough and tumble farm boy like him needs a cute thing on his arm to show off, doesn’t he? Don’t laugh at him- he’s trying to impress you. He’ll do anything he can to prove to you that he’s a strong, capable person and your perfect match. Let him carry your books, and serve you in the cafeteria buffet line. When you share a snack together, he’ll lean just a bit too close, letting his cheek brush against yours before pulling away. Come on, look him in the eyes! Or are you too shy~

IGNIHYDE

Idia Shroud has never met you in real life. You’ve never seen his face, but he’s seen yours through the camera of his tablet at housewarden meetings. Maybe it’s the pent up stress speaking, but wow, you’re way out of his league. Best to make casual conversation and repress his pining over a game of online chess, lest he screw it all up in real life. 

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia is a lonely soul who knows little more than a life of isolation. When you walk into his life, unafraid of the twisted black crown that sits on his head or the ominous aura that seems to surround him, he has to wonder if after all these years he’s finally found his soulmate. Immediately, he wants to make plans to see you every day, to listen to you ramble about anything and everything beyond the briar walls around his castle. Stay a while and talk with him, won’t you? Malleus is the true definition of patience and indulgence when he’s courting you. 

Lilia Vanrouge isn’t one for mere high school relationships. He’s a father and a general! He’s got a teenager to raise and armies to lead, on top the infamously heavy homework load from NRC classes. You’d have to be really important to him to find a place in his ancient heart. Sure, he’ll have his fun with flirting and all, but no one can really expect a thousand-year old fae to fall in love… right?

Sebek Zigvolt is shocked, no pun intended. There’s no way a fae like himself has fallen for a mere human! No, he won’t accept it. Sebek will turn in somersaults and bend over backwards to make any excuse on why he is not in love with you, he’s just a bit agitated today! Ironically, he makes things harder for himself with this mindset, condemning himself to pining for you from afar. 

Silver, like his name, wants to be your knight in shining armor- he’s just not quite sure how to go about it yet. He supposes he’ll ask for your parents’ permission to begin courting you, first. That’s the tradition in the Valley of Thorns after all. But when Lilia points out that it’s a bit old-fashioned, he’ll simply agree and go along with whatever terrible plans the rest of Diasomnia comes up with next. Be prepared to be barraged with an awful yet endearing mix of pick-up lines, cheesy love letters, and classic romance songs that this quartet comes up with in their free time. The best thing? Silver himself won’t even be awake for half of it. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[kimberly-spirits13]

Back From Hell

Pairing: Dean Winchester x witch!reader

Warnings: Details of hell, the silver knife test, shower together but nothing NSFW, angst, fluff with hint of angst at the end

Summary: After you sacrafice yourself to save humanity from demons trying to harness your powers, you die and go to hell, only to be ressurected. In the aftermath, the first thing you do is find Dean.

Word Count: 3156

 Heat, blistering heat hit your face and suffocated your lungs. The hair on your face singed off and you felt your skin peel in flakes off your body and the sounds of screams deafen your ears. Something pierced your body, feeling like thousands of needles scratching blood from your flesh the moment it returned, and the singeing of your body started over once more. The squeal of a heavy iron door shrieked through wherever you were, and a tall, dark figure entered. 

                  In a low guttural tone it spoke, “Had enough yet, witch?” 

                  You didn’t answer, closing your eyes and ignoring the figure.

                  “Speak!” He raised his hand and a large blade thrust through your stomach and back out again.

                  You screamed in agony, spitting blood onto what seemed to be the floor, “I thought” you gasped for air, “I thought you hadn’t even started with me yet.” 

                  The creature smiled and pulled out a large iron, lit flaming orange from heat. With slow, long strides, it approached you, running a long-clawed finger over the heated metal. 

                  “Well, in that case, I’d like to see how you feel about your spells now, witch.”

                  In a swift movement, he pressed the burning iron into your skin and began writing in ancient script. You wailed curses in pain as the scorching end of the metal carved into you. 

                  In a matter-of-fact tone, you heard his voice start again and the singe of the metal into your skin pause, “You could join us and make all this stop. Indeed, your magic would be of great value to us.” “Think about it, witch. You’d never endure this again. All for a simple commitment.”

                  “Fuck you.” You spat blood at the form.

                  A low chuckle emitted from the being, “It’s a shame really.” 

                  He pierced your side again, “You’d do so well.” 

                  The torture continued for what could have been hours, days, or weeks longer before you were left alone once again to suffer the same eternal cycle of struggle. You knew time was passing because the routine would stop and start over. It played on and on in the same loop as a broken record, bound to never be shut off. After every 1000 cycles of time, the figure would come in again, usually with a different introduction, but always with the same request. You had died sacrificing yourself to kill a line of demons rampaging through the human world. Using the last of your strength and the legendary magic you possessed, you died after destroying them. Now you were stuck here, in an endless loop of dread. 

                  The day you got out was no different. You awoke with the same terror drowning your senses and making breathing almost impossible. Volcanic heat violently erupted against your skin and began to suffocate you again. The heat was unbearable and boiling tears swept down your face and into your ears. You cried and screamed against the pain and began counting down the cycle repeats until you endured whatever form of torture hell created today. Around the 200th sequence you started hearing unfamiliar noises in the distance. Your stomach churned thinking it was some new creative device to instill pain on a new level. The shrill scream of the metal chamber door opening came early this time and you looked up to see what it was. A tall bright figure stood at the doorway and confidently walked towards you. In the flash of an eye, you felt yourself being picked up and carried away.

                  “Whatever this is,” you mumbled, “I won’t join you.” 

                  A strong, calm voice answered you, “Be calm, this is your deliverance.”

                  “What are you on about?” You looked towards what you thought would be the face, dazed and confused. The landscape around you seemed hazy and you didn’t understand what was going on.

                  “You maintained proper loyalties. This is your reward.” The voice came again, “Now sleep.” 

                  When you awoke again, you awoke in a dark airtight room. You gasped for air but found little. Feeling around, your finger was pricked by the splinter of wood, and you began to understand where you were. 

                  “That’s right.” You thought, “I died. Am I alive? How do I get out?” 

                  With little air left to breathe, you muttered your spell in Latin, “let me out”

                  Violently, with sudden force, the ground around you began to shake and become disrupted. All around you, the wood disintegrated into ash and the ground piled into heaps around the grave. A gust of spinning wind lifted you and released you with a thud onto the grass next to your burial site. You gasped for air, clawing at the ground and squinting to see from the sudden change in light. Your head pounded as you laid there reeling from what had just occurred. 

                  When some of your strength had returned, you sat up and looked around. There was a headstone with your name carved roughly into the stone and the remains of old flower stems strewn about. You wanted to scream for someone, but you knew no one would answer. You wanted Dean, but you knew he wasn’t here. There was no telling how much time had passed since you died and now, but you knew you had to get to civilization. Out in the distance, you heard cattle and followed the sound. Your legs were shaky and uneasy on the ground for the first time since who knows when. Feeling came back to your feet, and you started towards what you thought was life. 

                  After some time, walking through thick woods, you came out into a clearing with a gravel road running around the edge of the tree line. You walked down the road and past the cattle, listening for any sort of engine or signs of humanity. Once you had walked about twenty minutes or so, you came upon a small gas station on the outskirts of a little town, complete with a few run-down cars in the front lawn piled together as some sort of decoration. 

                  A bell dinged when you opened the door and a kind looking man looked up from his newspaper at the counter. You looked at the date and nearly doubled over. It had been exactly a year since you died. For a year, you had been enduring the torture of hell. There was no telling where Sam and Dean were at this point. 

                  “Everything alright dear?” He asked, a concerned look glazing over his face.

                  “Oh, I’m alright.” You answered with a small smile, “Where are we? My car was stolen from me while I was camping.”

                  The man gave you your location as some small town in South Dakota that you didn’t really catch and then started asking questions about the assailment and if you needed medical attention or the police.

                  “I’m fine, thank you. It was a beat-up thing, nothing special. How far are we from Sioux Falls?” 

                  “I’d say we’re about an hour’s drive. A bus comes through here heading towards there in about fifteen minutes if you want to catch it. The next one comes in the morning.”

                  “That’s great. Thank you.” “Do you have a bathroom?”

                  The man happily pointed towards it, “Of course. Down that little hall and to the left.”

                  Once you were in the bathroom you locked the door and threw up. There was nothing being spit out but for the feeling of adrenaline you had knowing how long it’s been and not knowing where anyone was. A few moments passed and you pulled yourself together and collected your thoughts.

                  You scoffed at yourself silently, “I don’t need a bus to take me to Dean. I just need a simple spell.”

                  With the same confidence you held so many times before, you recited your incantation and watched on as you were pinpointed to his direct location. The small bathroom you were in became Bobby’s study room. Sitting at the wooden table, you saw Dean hunched over an old leather-bound book with stacks of others piled high around him. Heavy purple bags hung under his eyes as he read. You couldn’t tell what he was reading about, but you had your guesses. Suddenly, Dean looked up, and turned to face your general direction. He huffed and returned to his book. This hadn’t happened before. 

                  You heard him mumble, “Nothing’s watching you stupid, you’re just tired.”

                  Silently, you headed outside of the bathroom and began for the door.

                  “I’ll just wait outside for the bus, thank you!” You waved.

                  “That’s alright. Have a good one.” 

                  Bus or no bus, you weren’t waiting. You ran behind the building where you were sure no one could see you and began another spell, this one to take you to Bobby’s house. A strong gust of wind blew around you and dust kicked up causing you to close your eyes. Your feet lifted off the ground and the next thing you knew, you were being knocked back onto the ground with force. You groaned, rolling over on the ground and slowly picked yourself back up. You hadn’t been this tired in a long time and you didn’t think the sudden use of so much magic was helping either. 

                  Wordlessly, you walked towards the front door. No one would believe that it was you, especially not Bobby. On the porch you questioned how you’d enter. “Surprise, I’m alive” didn’t seem like the best option, but there didn’t seem to be a better route. You put your hand on the knob of the door and beckoned it to unlock. The click under your fingers signified the effectiveness of your deed and you silently walked inside. Closing the door behind you, you listened for noise. You heard the familiar creaking of the kitchen floor and silently crept through.

                  You peered into the room, not seeing anyone, but sensing that someone must be there.

                  Almost whispering, you said aloud, “Dean?” “Bobby?” “Sammy?” 

                  The moment you stepped inside, a strong arm wrapped around your body and the cool touch of a blade’s edge rested on your neck.

                  Dean’s voice, laced with fury and hate filled the room, “What the fuck are you?” 

                  “Dean it’s me. It’s me! I don’t know why, but it’s me!” Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to get him off you. 

                  “I don’t believe you.” “It was you watching earlier, wasn’t it?” 

                  Before you could answer, you heard running coming from some other part of the house, into the kitchen where you were, “Dean what’s wrong?” 

                  Bobby came in wielding his gun and aimed it at you, “Who the hell are you?” He roared.

                  “Don’t shoot!” You yelled, “I’m Y/N, I’m telling you! Do the tests! Do it!” 

                  Dean’s grip loosened just enough at the offer so that you could disarm and throw him over you. You knew Bobby was trained on you now and you had to be quick. From in front of you, Dean came swinging with the knife he had just picked up, making you duck and jump out of the way. 

                  “I’m telling you the truth!” You swore loudly, “I’m not some demon, Dean.” “Bobby, put that down!”

                  “Like hell you are.” Bobby spat at you.

                  From where he was, Bobby threw a pitcher of holy water at you, waiting for you to ignite somehow. 

                  You spat the water out of your mouth and blinked hard, moving from Dean’s aim as you did. With a shriek, you slipped across the wet floor and into the counter with a thud. Your hip would be bruised after that. 

                  “Dean, hold the fort, I’m getting the flames!” Bobby ran out of the room and left you and Dean alone.             

                  Seeing you vulnerable, Dean jumped onto you, trying to slash at whatever he could before you threw him off you again, cringing a bit when he hit the ground and got right back up to swing once more. 

                  “Dean-” You were exasperated, “That’s enough!” 

                  You threw your arms out and light pulsated from your fingertips. Everything froze in the room where it was, unable to move. Bobby came running back in and before he could make it inside, you sealed off the entrances to the kitchen with a clear wall. His screams for Dean could be heard from the barrier you made. He could see everything happening but couldn’t do anything. 

                  “Give me this!” You took the silver knife from Dean’s hand and stood in front of him, your eyes welling up after getting your first good look at him in months.

                  He looked worse in person. His eyes were red and heavy bags sagged his skin. His undereye was stained purple and a small stubble had grown out. It looked like he’d been wearing the same clothes for more than a day now, and sleep was nowhere to be seen from him.

                  You sighed and dragged the knife across your forearm, “If I were some monster, I couldn’t do this.” 

                  Blood spilled from the spot you dragged the blade over and you softly gasped in pain, squeezing the area once you knew Dean had seen it. 

                  With desperation, you looked at Dean, “Good enough?” 

                  While he was still frozen in place, tears streamed down his cheeks and you released him from the hold, still maintaining the walls to keep Bobby out. You wanted to see him, but you needed Dean first. 

                  Dean released from his frozen state, throwing himself forward at you and pulling you to your knees. He wept as his body shook, arms wrapping in a death grip around you. You cried too, not minding the blood that was now dripping onto the floor. Dean pulled back after a few moments and looked you over. His hands went from being tangled in your hair to wiping the tears off your face and dragging his fingers along your jawline.

                  “It’s really me Dean.” You cried, “I told you I’d always come back to you.”

                  “I tried to find you.” He sobbed, “I promise, I tried to find you.”

                  You raked your fingers through his hair, “You’re okay Dean. You did a good job.” 

                  “Sammy. He left a little while ago to get food.” Dean started rattling things off out of pure shock, telling you about things you hadn’t asked him for, gauging your every reaction to see if you were real. 

                  “Y/N!” You heard Bobby call from the other room, “Let me in damn it!” 

                  The boarder dropped between the kitchen and hall, and he came barreling in, scooping you up into a bear hug and wiping away his tears.

                  “We haven’t stopped looking for a way to get you back since you died.” He said, “It’s not been the same.” 

                  You talked for a second before turning back to Dean who grabbed you once again, not letting you go this time. The two of you stood there forever, basking in each other’s presence. There was little to say but for the occasional “I love you” and “I missed you”. Sam had come back and fondly dropped all the dinner he had just picked up in shock. 

                  Hours came and passed, and the day turned into night. You were disgusting from being in a casket from a year and smelled like dirt and grime. Dean hadn’t left your side all day and wasn’t planning on it anytime soon.

                  You mumbled against his chest “I need a shower.” The two of you were laying on the sofa in silence. 

                  Dean sighed and pulled the two of you off the couch, wordlessly walking you upstairs into the room he was staying in and shutting the door behind him. He kept constant watch over you to make sure you were still there. No matter what you were doing, he was there. It was impossible to do anything alone, even use the bathroom. Dean was convinced you’d slip away, and he’d never see you again. The sound of the shower’s running water pulled you out of your thoughts. Sincere green eyes looked in yours as he hooked his fingers around the hem of your shirt.

                  “You’re fine.” You said softly.

                  With permission to proceed, Dean pulled your remaining clothes off and did the same for himself, guiding the two of you under the hot stream of water. You flinched feeling the water for the first time in what felt like 100 years, startling Dean.

                  He searched for an obvious indicator of what was wrong, “Are you okay?” 

                  “I’m fine.” You answered, “Just not used to this.” 

                  Dean nodded, “tell me if you get uncomfortable.” 

                  From the corner of the shower, Dean grabbed a bottle of your shampoo and lathered it in his hands after you had washed the dirt off your body.

                  “You kept that?” You asked astonished, tears welling up again.

                  “Smells like you. I couldn’t get rid of it.” “The day I got rid of it was the day I accepted that you were gone.” 

                  Dean held you close to him and washed your hair as warm tears streamed down your face. You sniffled and Dean looked at you again, wrapping you in a warm embrace and letting his own tears flow.

                  “I didn’t know what to do without you.” He said honestly, “I can’t function without you.”

                  “I’m sorry Dean.” You said into his shoulder, “I never wanted to leave you.” “I had to.”

                  “I know. It’s our job.” He sniffled, “You did a good thing.” “Let’s just not do it again.”

                  “Agreed.” You chuckled, feeling the last of the conditioner he had run through your hair rinse out.

                  The two of you dried off and changed. He gave you a set of sweatpants and one of his t shirts you always liked to wear. Wordlessly, the two of you fell onto the bed and held each other closely. His breath fanned against your skin in a warm sweep.

                  “Hey. Look at me.” He said, his fingers resting under your chin and pulling you to look at him, “Are you okay?”

                  You hadn’t thought about this yet, only being concerned that you were breathing and with Dean. The flashes of what you currently remembered from hell blipped against your memory and the spaced look you gave Dean told him what he needed to know before you said it.

                  “No.” you answered calmly, “But I know I will be.” 

                  Dean looked at you and spoke sternly but softly, “Don’t hide anything from me. If you have a nightmare, wake me up. If you start feeling all weird about it tell me. I love you Y/N. I don’t want you to hurt.” 

                  “I promise.” You answered, “I love you two.”                  It was a little while before you felt yourself drifting to sleep, but after a while you managed to. You’d deal with the nightmares and daydreams about hell later. For now, all that mattered was that you were back where you belonged. You were back with Dean.

[dadsbongos]

cycle & jerk

5k words / warnings - pinv sex (unprotected, creampies), breeding kink, light choking, hair pulling, chilchuck's a mean dirty old man, heat cycle, i haven't written in awhile so like. idk don't execute me if this isn't a slay

summary - you are a rat-half foot-hybrid mix, king of the junjile but still social and fierce, and you go into heat and chilchuck can smell it (ew) and he's the only one that can help

~~~

Huffy panting causes Chilchuck to stir in his bedroll. A whine muffled into thin fluff, then the gentle drag of scratchy blankets catching on clothes as a lump grows more apparent beside him. Shyly, a hand wanders from clutching his arm to petting down his chest -- pausing at his belt and scrunching his shirt with a hearty groan. He watches quietly, heart thumping into his chest because he’s just not sure how to breach this.

Stupidly he’d assumed he still had more time. Looking back, he’s genuinely unsure as to why he ever thought that. The signs were there that tonight was his culling, weren’t they? He should’ve been more prepared.

four days prior.

Despite only servicing a single party in your entire adventuring career (and only wanting the one), you have a very strict set of dates in which you’re unavailable for work. Yet this month, regardless of his numerous efforts, your party leader has kept you in the dungeon past expiration.

“I told you I needed out of here before today, didn’t I?”

“You did…”

“And where am I?”

“Still here…”

To his credit, Laios appears earnestly ashamed -- hands folded in his lap and head bent to avoid looking you in the eye. He murmurs soft apologies, even as your attention is called across the room by Marcille.

“Take it easy,” she coos, which only infuriates you further, “What’s so important that you have to be so mad, anyway?”

“It’s basic decency,” you throw an arm out at your side, gesturing to your fellow half-foot on the right, “Chilchuck, back me up!”

“She’s right,” Chilchuck shrugs, “Although it sounds unfair to put all the blame on Laios.”

“I can’t leave before we’re done here,” you grumble, swiveling to face him fully (Laios sighs in gratitude that your wrath has been directed elsewhere), “I don’t get paid upfront, you know?”

“Huh, wonder if there was some way you could’ve fixed that.”

“I only work with Laios, why would I need to join a union?”

“Scab,” he coughs, far more teasing than of genuine frustration.

“Maybe we could help get you back to the surface if you told us what the problem was!” Marcille rolls around onto her hands, eyes wide in curiosity, “C’mon, share! Light a fire under us!”

“It’s embarrassing,” you scooch closer to Chilchuck before sagging against the wall, joining him on the ground. You fail to notice when he flinches at your proximity, “My business is my own.”

“Best leave it alone,” Senshi agrees, “We’ll just have to stay outta your way ‘til we’re done here.”

“Well, don’t avoid me,” you continue to scoff, watching as Izutsumi rustles along Chilchuck’s lap just to bat at your rounded ears with both paws, “Izutsumi, don’t touch those.”

She hisses quietly, only diverting her attention so far as your tail sandwiched between yours and Chilchuck’s thighs. You allow her to malleate the flesh, only because she makes no off-hand comments about how strangely cool the skin is (just the memory makes you glare over at Laios again, who cowardly shrinks back).

“You’re irritable today,” Chilchuck glances at you warily, tone equally cautious.

“And?”

His back slides down the wall until he’s nestled fully into his bedroll and turned away from you onto his side, “Nothing.”

Izutsumi hums quietly, head plopping into your lap, you two exchange confused glances before collectively deciding to let his sudden retirement go.

Since that night, Chilchuck has been avoiding you. You’re certain.

Initially, you’d attempted to rationalize it as a sense of hysteria, that you were simply hyper aware of his presence after the incident shared with Izutsumi. Until more incidents began compiling atop each other, and you were unable to pass them as individual misunderstandings.

Such as that next morning.

“Oh, you getting water?” Chilchuck rose from his slump against the far wall, gaze honed on Laios.

Your leader nods before thumbing towards you, “Yep. Found a small fountain across the hall. Wanna come?”

Chilchuck looks at you, blinking stupidly, before shaking his head, “I’ll probably wait until we set camp again.”

Then there was lunchtime.

“You’re so far away…” Marcille whines, stretching her arm out as if to manhandle Chilchuck back towards the rest of your party.

“There’s no room over there.”

Everyone stares at him for that, Izutsumi curling into your side protectively while Laios points down at the gaping space between you and Senshi with his plate. He grins, full of heart and goodwill, “There’s room right there, Chil’.”

“Oh,” Chilchuck’s shoulders slack, body unenthusiastically scooting across the floor until he’s awkwardly inserted beside you. Noticeably closer to Senshi than you, chuckling distantly and gazing solely into his food, “Duh. Didn’t notice that.”

Izutsumi smacks her lips in a rush to swallow her bite before contradicting, “You were staring at that spot for five minutes.”

“Thought you were gonna take it,” he recovers quickly, then promptly shutting his mouth the rest of lunch.

And the next day.

Anytime you spoke, he’d find an exit from the conversation. He’d conveniently need to speak with Laios, or Marcille, or Izutsumi, or Senshi whenever you approached. Not to mention how glaringly obvious the physical space between you was, whereas he usually traveled towards the middle of the pack with you he’s now suddenly braving the front alongside Laios.

Each effort on your part to shut down tension was swiftly dodged, only managing to thicken the strain between you.

Until that night:

“I’m heading for the bathroom,” Chilchuck rises from his bedroll with a yawn.

“Want me to go with?” Laios offers.

“No,” but his kindness is wasted on Chilchuck, who grimaces at the thought of pissing with a silently listening Laios.

Laios frowns over at you, “But it’s dark out there, I would’ve kept him safe.”

“He’ll live,” you retort, frustration with the lockpick boiling over into an eye roll.

You feel a lithe finger dig into your thigh, finding Marcille turned onto her tummy in her blanket, “You could go confront him now. He’ll have no excuses with nobody else around.”

Figures someone as invasive as Marcille is so invested in yours and Chilchuck’s recent friction.

“Yeah, I’ll just go up behind him while he’s peeing. Great idea.”

“Scare him into submission,” Izutsumi adds, though betraying you by selfishly occupying Chilchuck’s mat across the room. She snuggles into the warmth he’s left behind, yawning loudly -- looking about three seconds from drifting into slumber.

“There’s ale stocks along the way,” Senshi now joins the conversation, and is arguably the most helpful, “Some of ‘em bound to be full. He won’t turn down a drink.”

“Huh,” you tease the idea further. Even if by some uncharacteristic possession, Chilchuck does refuse the offer of alcohol, you can always beat him with the bottle. Knock him out to tie down and force out answers once he’s awake, “That could work…”

You replay that very thought process in your head as you await for Chilchuck to wander back down the hall. You passed as far as the corridor after the ale shelves before realizing how strange lingering outside the bathroom is, then deciding to sit with your back to the wall. Not long now, Chilchuck will be right in front of you.

He won’t jump back in shock, either. He’s heard you walking, you know he did because you heard him pause, sigh, and continue at a much, much slower pace. You’d almost be swooning over how he could discern it was you by your walk, if only there wasn’t such a vexing reason for you to be out here.

At least you have the advantage, your superior rodent vision can make him out in the pitch dark, meanwhile he’s relying on estimation as to where you are. If you wanted, you could probably just throw the ale at his head and get the knocking-him-unconscious bit over with.

“Okay,” he sighs again, louder, arms folded across his chest, “What?”

“Me what? How about you what?”

Chilchuck leans his head away from you, as if he can’t so much as stand to look at you, “What’re you talking about?”

“Just sit,” when he makes no such move, you lift one bottle in your hand, swirling the dark liquid inside, “I brought a bribe just to be nice, don’t let it go to waste.”

“Where’d you get that?” his curiosity blocks out his better instinct, sitting at your side to snatch up the bottle. You can see the instant he regrets it -- his nose wrinkles up and he swallows harshly, “Okay, what do you want?”

You ‘hpmh’ at his testy tone, letting him stew in the unpleasant silence before he’s uncorking the bottle and taking his first gulp. His nonchalance is more irritating than his avoidance; now he wants to insist you’re the weird one when he was dodging you as some toxic, erratic creature. Rage spurs you to your feet, swinging around to stand directly in front of him.

“You’re avoiding me, I know you are!” in retrospect, you will be glad you’re so far from the party so you two can yell without disturbing them.

“I am not!”

“Stop being defensive, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!”

“I can’t,” Chilchuck grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes, face blooming red. That tangy aroma usually hidden until it was right under his nose, flooding his mouth. It was now overpowering your usual scent, and he assumes the only reason you’re so oblivious is because your own advanced smelling has grown blind to it, “It’s nothing you can fix. I’m just cursed with heightened senses.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?!” you stumble back, arms curling around your stomach, “No way! You can…”

.

.

.

Oh, God.

“Yep.”

Oh, God, no.

“Gross!”

Chilchuck shrugs, tilting the ale against his lips and murmuring into tinted glass, “Usually it's only the bloody part we can pick up on, but uh,” he sips the bitter liquid, clearly hesitant to finish his thought until your curious hum encourages him, “I guess beastkin are more… potent…”

“Ew!”

“I didn’t want to finish saying it!”

“But you did,” you gag, “You’re a pervert, phrasing it all nasty like that.”

“What? Would you rather me say it how Laios would?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” you go rigid suddenly, heart seizing at the mention of Laios, “He can’t find out about this.”

“Agreed, it’d be disgusting to hear him ask all those personal questions.”

“So,” you emphasize, clasping your hands nervously, “I need to get it taken care of before I become a problem.”

Chilchuck freezes. Eyes drifting slowly from his bottle to your pinched face, “No.”

“What?”

“No. Ask Senshi or Marcille -- hell! Knock out two problems in one swoop and have Laios help! He’ll leave you alone for the rest of your life if he can get all his questions out now.”

“I wasn’t saying that,” you totally were, and you should’ve known better due to his aversion to interpersonal party-relationships, “Just, I dunno, keep me away from the others.”

“Why me?” he groans.

“You’re the only one who knows…”

“What about Izutsumi? Can’t she be your guard?”

“No! I wanna preserve my positive image in her mind as long as I can.”

Chilchuck scowls, polishing off the bottle with a loud gulp and rolling the neck between his hands, “Guess this is why we never saw you around this time.”

“Uh-huh…”

“And you’re gonna be miserable down here until it's over.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it’ll only be worse once you actually go into heat.”

“I know, Chilchuck, I’m thirty -- I know how my own heats work.”

You watch confirmed and suspected information sink in for him: Chilchuck was surprised to meet you upon joining the party, as far as he’d heard from whispered tales beastmen looked human most of their lives. Yet you’ve got large, circular ears with a light layer of fur, a pudgy button nose that twitches, and a fleshy tail unfurling to your ankles. You store fat easier than any other half-foot he’s ever met, your legs are stronger and faster than any other half-foot, too.

As terrible as it sounds out of context, your body fascinates him. Not to liken himself to Laios, but well… Ideally this could be his perfect excuse to fully explore, he could have so many questions answered.

Are there humanoid ears hidden behind your hair? Does the peach fuzz on your tail match what courses over your thighs and arms? Has the strength of a rat’s jaw proportionally stretched to your own, like with your legs? Is your whole body warm like a humanoid or cool like your tail? Do you only leave every other month because your rat heat is worse than your human ovulation?

Would having sex with you be like with any other half-foot, or would you be a completely new experience?

Have your strange circumstances forced you into a romantic stasis, making you vulnerable and sensitive to his experienced hands?

If he refuses you now, would you take the bait and ask Laios for help instead?

“Laios seriously doesn’t know about this? At all?”

“I’m sure he knows menstruation exists,” and by proxy ovulation, “but no, I haven’t mentioned my heat.”

“I would’ve thought he’d constantly ask about your… anatomy…”

“Honestly, I think it’s why he approached me to join his party, but I told him off after the first weird question,” you laugh quietly at the memory, “Funny enough, he didn’t seem weird. Most men that approached me were dogs, so meeting him was a relief. Never wanted to work for someone else after our first dive together.”

Chilchuck nods slowly, smoothing the pad of his thumb across the emptied bottle and staring into his dark, murky reflection, “You’ve been in the party longest. You gotta be fond of the guy by now.”

No, he corrects, judging by how you phrased it -- you’ve always been fond of him.

“I guess…” you shrug, “but I’m not fond fond,” you cross your arms defensively, humiliated chills racing up your arms at his unspoken rejection, “I could be, if you’re so adverse. It doesn’t have to be you, Chilchuck. Sorry for asking something so intimate.”

Chilchuck lays the bottle down, shaking his head as he stands, “Don’t ask that dolt. I’ll help.”

“Really?”

More questions infiltrate his mind, unwelcomed as they are interesting.

Do you squeal or huff when you cum? Are you the type to leave scratches? Do you bite (and thus, back to the jaw strength thing)? Would you let him yank your hair? Your tail? Both?

“Thanks, Chilchuck,” you feel the inexplicable need to whisper your appreciation, as if raising your voice could somehow rouse his testy attitude and result in backtracking.

“You should call me Chil.”

“Huh?”

“It’d be awkward to hear my whole name during sex. That’s about as close as people can get, right?”

“Oh!” you’re taken aback. You thought he was against that, though clearly…

His face is flushed (however his decisive speech and sturdy stance negate any intoxication allegations), and you can almost make out the thump of his heartbeat in the filling silence. Or maybe that part is your imagination. Maybe you’re hoping his heart is racing as fast as yours.

“When would be best?” he clears his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt as though it's choking him, “Now?”

“No!” you cry, mostly out of shock he’s that willing, “No, it wouldn’t do anything now since I’m not… you know. Yet. We’ll have to wait.”

“How long?”

“Not sure. This is why I like to be at home during.”

“I get it,” he runs a hand down the length of his face, hissing quietly in exasperation, “I hate playing these things by ear.”

“‘These things’?” you chuckle as Chilchuck’s face goes red at the implication, he storms past you praying you drop his slip-up, “You do this kind of thing often?”

“Shut up.”

“So, you’re just the guy to go to, then! I should come to you every other month!”

“Shut up!”

…

“Glad to see you two made up,” Marcille’s cheery tone is the first to rake through the room next morning, “Though…”

You’re practically draped over Chilchuck’s back, already feeling your body temperature climbing unnaturally. He’s patting your sweltering cheek sympathetically, allowing you to burrow your face into the bend of his neck. And you’re pressing your chest obnoxiously into his back.

“You’re a bit close,” she teases in a quiet giggle.

Chilchuck rolls his eyes, biting back any replies to avoid unintentionally spilling your secret.

He turns, lips brushing your temple as he whispers to you, “How’re you doing? I could probably lie to Laios and- “

“No,” you whine, embarrassment evident in how you curl your arms tighter around his waist and shuffle closer, “I can’t right now, that’s so… weird.”

“Sure, that would be weird.”

That night, both you and Chilchuck jammed into an off-room from the rest of your party. You two having made the escape after everyone else fell asleep to avoid questions about why you were separating yourselves.

He chooses not to comment on how you strip down to only your panties before falling asleep.

…

Huffy panting causes Chilchuck to stir in his bedroll. A whine muffled into thin fluff, then the gentle drag of scratchy blankets catching on clothes as a lump grows more apparent beside him. Shyly, a hand wanders from clutching his arm to petting down his chest -- pausing at his belt and scrunching his shirt with a hearty groan. He watches quietly, heart thumping into his chest because he’s just not sure how to breach this.

Stupidly he’d assumed he still had more time. Looking back, he’s genuinely unsure as to why he ever thought that. The signs were there that tonight was his culling, weren’t they? He should’ve been more prepared.

While he’s internally debating the ethics of chickening out on his promise to you, you’re suffering. Bad.

Sweat clings along the back of your neck and all down your molten face. Worse than that heat, is the one between your thighs. You’ve been duly rubbing at yourself through your panties for the better half of eternity, earnestly hoping to deal with this yourself rather than following through with using Chilchuck. That in itself is proof you’re barely in your right mind, masturbating has never worked before -- obviously it won’t now.

All it succeeds in is making you wetter and messier.

A little physical stimulation, you reason, can’t be bad. So you faintly trail a hand over Chilchuck’s soft stomach, pausing before his crotch and feeling your chest pound at the thought:

Below his navel is his penis.

Then there’s the next thought:

His penis should be inside you.

You moan quietly, eyes clenched shut and cheek smushing into your bedroll. Were you not preoccupied with the broiling in your stomach, you’d probably be feeling the ache in your knees holding up your weight. Your back arched and rear presented for mounting.

Just as you’re delirious enough with desperation to shake Chilchuck awake, he’s turning onto his side and carding stray hairs from your damp face. Fire licks up his fingertips and he frowns, “You’re warm.”

“Chil,” relief fills you at his voice, something else filling the seat of your underwear. The hand on his tummy winds up to the collar of his shirt, you fumble with the top button, “Chil, can you- ? Please, I feel so fucking hot, Chil. I need you.”

Chilchuck casts the others a brief glance through the door before pushing up onto his elbows, one hand joining yours between your legs. He swallows harshly at the warmth, slithering beneath the waistband of your panties to skim his fingertips directly along your pussy. You push back into his hand with a mewl, near the point of gasping for breath at the new sensation of a man’s fingers pressing inside you.

“Slipped right in,” he muses, tilting his head to be level with yours, “So wet and ready, you should’ve woken me up before. Could’ve saved you the embarrassment.”

Anything impactful like words and vowels is slurred as you rock into Chilchuck’s hand, bottom lip tugged between your teeth. The pads of his fingers dive towards the pouch of your stomach, curling in search of one specific spot.

You gasp sharply and buck back, unabashedly and with no care if it catches bleary eyes from the other room, making him sure he’s found it. His other hand juts out to press up on your tummy, only aiding the pressure of his fingers inside you.

“Not- uh! - not gonna finish like this, Chil,” you whine pathetically, batting your lashes at him wetly.

“Who said anything about that?” he slips his fingers out of you, then swishing the soaked digits around your clit just to hear you try, and fail, to muffle a squeal into your pillow, “Finish: like it's a job. I’m trying to watch you squirm like the bitch in heat you are.”

You hadn’t assumed he was the type, given his opposition to being personal. His consistent, almost annoyingly thorough, separation of business and pleasure. This (apparently incorrect) observation stems from how you also hadn’t assumed he was the type to be curious about you.

Chilchuck teases your slit to watch if you'll try smothering more moans by biting your mat. He inches his face to yours, listening for pinched curses and wails. Eyes trail down your face to your chest, studying the way it pillows against the bedroll. He feels every part the creep he accused Laios of being.

“You're so sensitive,” he notes, shuffling onto his knees behind you, shoving his pants midway down his thighs, “What? Not used to this?”

You swat at him in protest, though still humping pathetically. Every twitch and moan is based on pure instinct, you’ve got no clue how to intentionally be sexy -- you’re just praying Chilchuck is too hypnotized by your cunt for your inexperience to be glaringly obvious. Between work and the fetishizing of both your race and curse, a partner has been hard to find: making you a rare half-foot approaching your golden years as a virgin.

Chilchuck lubes the head of his cock with your syrupy wetness before sliding inside, hands playing the fat of your hips. He lets out a low groan, one hand groping from your side up the curve of your ass and along your spine before winding in your hair. His fingers slot around the roots, taking the base of your skull to use as leverage while he fucks you.

He can make out the choked sound of you tempering a moan by sinking your teeth into cushion. You reach back, nails snagging his exposed thigh to anchor him deep inside your wetly clicking cunt. Chilchuck wrangles your back against his chest by your hair, placing his hand over your mouth as a muzzle. Hot breaths fan the soft skin of his palm, skin slapping skin slowly growing louder in a way that should make Chilchuck more careful than it does.

Rather, he speeds up, hand on your hip rounding to circle your sloshed, swollen clit.

“Just shut up and take it,” he grunts, releasing your mouth to seize your throat, until ribbed tissue presses into his palm.

Gagged whimpers and gasps die as sputters in the pit of your chest, Chilchuck biting and sucking your neck to silence his own wanton crowing.

Every glide out of you is met with your violent heat and need sucking him back in. Your head swivels, putty nose rolling against his cheek as you press sloppy kisses along his cheek.

Heeding your frantic, whispered pleas, Chilchuck shifts to return your kisses. Tongue against tongue, hands pulling your bodies into one sticky tangle.

“Gonna let me breed you?” he growls, using his weight over you to suddenly pin you against your bedroll. Your wetness dripping toward the mat, down his wrist, and along his pelvis, “Gonna give me a baby? Make me a daddy?” your ass perks up, tail coiling around his thigh to tether him, he chuckles cruelly down at you, “Yeah, such a good mousy cunt for me. Open and wet, taking my cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, gasping aloud now only for Chilchuck’s hand around your neck to return to your face -- two of his fingers depressing your tongue. Even with the obvious attempt to hush you, you call to him. Garbled, braindead slews of pleas for his cum and begging for (somehow) more attention.

“Is this really all your heat, or are you just such a secret slut?” your whine and clenching stir him up, gooey and compliant and bursting at the seams just for you, “Trying to be all cute, asking for help,” his thrusts quicken when you arch back, hand snatching around his at your clit, “If you wanted to be my cumslut, you could’ve fucking said so.”

You bury your face into your makeshift bed, muffling something in the mat, and Chilchuck yanks your head up by your hair,

“What was that, slut?”

Your thighs are quivering, cunt gushing around him, chest pounding erratically with the need for air, “Just want your cum, Chil!”

Chilchuck stills against you, shuddering and cock heavy in your gut as he cums inside you--

Not that you’re finished yet.

“So good!” you sing, welcoming the reprieve and stubbornly tucking Chilchuck deeper inside you despite him being spent. He throws his head back, eyes rolling in his skull as you continue, “Just a bit more, Chil, please, please, please!”

“Desperate whore,” he slumps forward, biting your shoulder before whirring onto his back, “You do the work now, if you’re so fuckin’ greedy.”

“So mean,” you pout, though the complaint doesn’t deter you from sinking onto his cock like this.

“You’re gonna fuck me asleep,” Chilchuck is courteous enough to languidly snap his hips up into yours, “Needy, desperate bitch.”

For as much as he teases you -- he’s on the brink of tears from overstimulation, voice clipped and throat raw with the need to cry.

“Just one more,” you whine, hands scratching back against his chest, “Gimme one more, please?”

“Fuck,” Chilchuck sucks in a sharp breath, icy tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, “Fine.”

An airy giggle flows through your lips, ditzy and hot and eager.

A few aggravated plaps is enough for Chilchuck to be puffing and shaking, your bounces deteriorate into heedy grinding. Chilchuck winds both arms around your midsection to pull your back against his chest, frustrated tears caking his lashes the longer his abused cock cooks inside you.

“C’mon, babe, you can cum for me. You gotta feel good, too, right?” he’s murmuring in your fluffy ear, flicking your clit with his thumb, “No point in this if you don’t feel good, too.”

His words are not what flips you into euphoria, but rather the sensation of his cum trickling from your swollen cunt -- fucked loose from your incessant jerking on him.

You toss your head back, Chilchuck narrowly avoiding a broken nose by swerving to the side. Loudly thunking together, your clamped knees trap his hand between your thighs -- gurgled cries for breath and his name croak from your hanging mouth.

“Good slut,” he lays sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, fingers slowing to a pause on your clit, “Best cunt for me.”

“Thank you,” you sigh into the open air, voice all soft and sweet.

Chilchuck laughs at the sound, lulling to the side to spoon you, “You’re way nicer like this. Could get used to it.”

“Don’t ruin this,” you yawn, pinching his wrist.

“Whatever, this better be enough to satisfy you,” he pulls the blanket over your conjoined limbs, too drained to pull up his pants and redress you.

“Hey,” you call, met with a soft groan of acknowledgement, “You know I’m not a mouse, right? I’m a rat.”

“Mhm,” he lazily confirms, “Sounds better than ratty cunt, though. So pick your battles.”

The next morning, a hand is shaking you awake. A soft and polite gesture immediately ruined when you realize the hand is much larger than Chilchuck’s. In a panic, your eyes shoot open to see your cheerful party leader.

“Thanks for going in the other room,” is the first thing out of his mouth, and you want to punch him, “I figure you two would want to get sorted out before everyone else wakes up.”

“Laios…”

“Hm?” his hand is still burning a hole through the sheet on your shoulder.

“Stop touching me.”

“Sorry!” he clutches the offending mitt to his chest, then rising to a stand and waving goodbye, “See you in a bit! Try not to take too long, okay? I have a lot of questions.”

“Get out.”

Unbothered by your mortification, Laios gives a thumbs up and creeps out into the room with the rest of your party.

“We should kill him,” Chilchuck husks into your ear.

“We should.”

“So,” Chilchuck cups the pouch of your tummy, squeezing in a way simultaneously strange and affectionate, “‘s this gonna become a problem?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I think I’m infertile.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Rat eggs and human eggs don’t actually mix well.”

“Well, it’s a relief I won’t have to raise another kid, I guess. How terrible would that be? I’d be on my deathbed when it gets married.”

…?

???

“Hey, wait,” you roll over in bed, brows furrowed at the man, “Another?”

He nods sluggishly, judgment clouded by both drowsiness and libido, “Three daughters already, so that’d be my fourth,” he cackles at your shocked face, “What? Sex with a coworker you don’t know isn’t panning how you thought?”

“Oh, shut up. I know you, just not your family. Totally different.”

“Definitely. Opposites.”

“So,” Laios swings his head towards Chilchuck, smiling politely, “How many nipples?”

~~~

stupid bonus

“What?” Chilchuck’s eye twitches.

“Sadly, I think it's only two because there’s only two visible mammaries…” the blonde has the gall to sigh at such a thought before suddenly blooming excitement, “Unless there’s more hiding in some kind of wrap! Are there?”

[uvobreakmylegs]

Frustration

Franklin x female!reader

Warnings: smut, dubcon, mentions of noncon, captivity, aphrodisiacs, drugging, spanking, manipulation, gaslighting

Word count: 7.5k

Your attitude towards Franklin could be best described as that of a tide moving to and from a beach.

You went to him when you needed the social interaction, when the loneliness of your new life hit you too hard and you needed to talk to someone just to keep yourself from losing it. You spoke to him civilly, starting with topics as basic as what the weather was like until you were willing to have more in-depth conversations regarding genuine interests. Eventually you would let him touch you without much fuss, not shying away whenever he would place a hand on your shoulder or lower back. Those moments you allowed were brief, and would end once he sensed that you were becoming uncomfortable.

With enough time, the short moments of physical touch turned into longer ones. You allowed him to keep his hand on your thigh when you were sitting close to him and let him to hold your hand in his. And it would soon get to the point where you would have no issue with him pulling you onto his lap and holding you; sometimes you held him back.

When you were at your most comfortable with him, there was no protest from you when his hands would begin to wander.

His touch would be tame at first as he continued the process of easing you in. When you would sit in his lap, he would take the opportunity to caress you, stroking your hair or massaging your shoulders you would relax further. Then his hands would wander further, caressing your inner thighs before he slipped one of his hands beneath your shirt so he could grope your breasts while he began to mark up your neck with his mouth. At that point it would culminate in sex. Unlike times in the past where you would cry, during these times you would reciprocate. You held him, kissed him and didn't hide how much you were enjoying yourself when he fucked you, your moans and squeaks of pleasure echoing through the room while he had you writhing on his cock.

Afterwards, late into the night when you were both exhausted, you always fell asleep before he did, not complaining when he held you and instead being content in his arms, resting your cheek against his chest while you slept peacefully.

Franklin always felt that he was at his happiest in those moments, when you were able to let go of the resentment you held towards him and allow yourself to feel good with him. When you freely gave him your love and affection. Less like his captive and more like his lover. The way he wanted it.

But those moments of bliss would only last for so long.

After that point, like a tide pulling out, you would begin to pull away from him. Days later you would go back to shying away from his touch, sleeping at the very edge of the bed so as to create a physical distance between you two and only giving him one word answers at best whenever he spoke to you. You retreated from him in all aspects that you were able to within the space the two of you shared and only interacted with him when you had no other choice.

It would stay that way until you couldn't stand being alone anymore and you would go to him, at which the cycle would start over again.

Franklin was used to it, and while the situation wasn't something he liked, he could live with it for the time being. Until you were able to better accept your new life and those instances of you shutting him out ceased, he would take what you would give him only when you were comfortable enough to do so. Until that time came, he'd be fine.

Or so he thought.

This latest instance of your refusal of him was lasting longer than normal, and the longer you went rejecting him, the more frustrated he became.

Maybe it wouldn't have been as bad if it weren't for the fact that the last time the two of you had been intimate, you had been the one to initiate.

He hadn't been expecting it as he didn't think he had worked you up to that point yet. But one night you surprised him when you climbed on top of him in bed, silencing his questions by pressing your lips against his. Your intent became clear when you slipped your hand into his sleep pants and began to stroke his cock.

That night was the first time you went down on him. The sight of you sitting between his knees, your tongue sticking out to lap at the metal piercings at the tip of his cock before you opened your mouth wide and took in as much of him as you could while you stroked at what wouldn't fit – those were images he was certain would be forever engraved in his mind. At that point, he didn't care what had brought this on. When you pulled your mouth off of him, he grabbed you by your hair and brought you up to his level so he could kiss you. He'd been rougher with you than he intended, but you didn't complain. If anything, you seemed to like it, and you kissed him back with just as much fervor.

You were desperate for him that night, placing kisses on his jaw, neck and along his chest, guiding his hands to where you wanted him to touch you and staying on top of him, riding him while you pressed your hands against his chest, your nails digging in and leaving small crescent shaped marks in his skin while his cock repeatedly disappeared into your cunt, engulfing him with your wet warmth. You shuddered and cried out when you came, and the way your walls squeezed him so tightly brought him to his own climax. When Franklin grabbed you by your hips and pushed you down all the way as he came inside of you, you cried out once again and reached out to wrap your arms around him as his cum began to dribble out of you.

You were completely spent after, falling onto his chest while you tried to catch your breath. A soft but appreciative moan left your lips when he ran a hand over your back to sooth your sweaty skin. He'd wanted more from you and part of him felt as though he was ready to go again, but at the sight of your exhausted form laying on top of him, Franklin told himself not to. There was no sense in ruining things by asking too much of you.

You placed a few more kisses on his skin before you fell asleep, and he felt content with the progress you had made.

The day after had been a different story.

Like someone had flipped a switch within you, you walked around like a zombie that morning, your gaze looking distant at times. Whatever thoughts had plagued your mind, you seemed to be struggling with them. That afternoon you had taken a long shower, and when you had gotten out, it was clear that you'd spent a long time scrubbing at your skin to the point that it had become irritated, and he saw that the damage was worst in the places you had guided his hands to the night prior.

When he tried to ask what was wrong, you only shook your head before you walked away.

At the time, he had told himself to think nothing of it. You were pulling away again only because you were still struggling to adjust. You would come back to him once you were desperate enough, and he would get to feel your loving touch once again. It wouldn't be long until you reached that point again.

Only the days had turned to weeks, and you were still avoiding him.

As a result, his frustration was mounting.

Before all of this Franklin never would've thought the lack of physical contact would bother him so much; with everything he'd gone through in life, he should've been able to deal with such a thing easily. Maybe before he could've, but it was different now. After the taste he had gotten of you freely giving into him and going to him on your own, it angered him that you would insist on pulling away.

But he wasn't sure what he could do about it.

His gaze returned to where you were sitting at the table with a book in hand, reading quietly with your back turned to him. Originally you'd been sitting on the couch, but when he sat down to join you, you got up and moved. You weren't even trying to be subtle about avoiding him.

Did you want him to get angry?

Franklin chose not to say anything. Lashing out wouldn't help the situation.

Even if it would be incredibly easy to do something to you.

No doubt because of what had happened the last time you went to him and how those images of you were still fresh in his mind, intrusive thoughts came to the forefront as he looked at you. They plagued his mind as he looked you over, running wild and distracting him. Thoughts of what he could do if he decided that he really didn't give a shit about what your reaction would be to any of it.

If Franklin really wanted to fulfill those urges right at that moment, all he would need to do was bend you over, kick the chair away and remove the clothes that covered you. Then he could do what he wanted. Take care of the frustration you had caused while he got to experience your warm pussy walls again. With how weak you were compared to him, he wouldn't even need to use much of his strength, and while the lack of recent intimacy would make it uncomfortable when he initially shoved his cock into you, the resistance on your part would die out soon enough. You would probably start to enjoy it after a time, and with some encouragement and a few orgasms of your own, he could get you to hold and kiss him again.

But that was a horrible idea.

He'd be taking several steps back if he went about it that way. When the next morning would come, you would go back to ignoring him – or worse, you might go back to the way you'd been when Franklin had first brought you here, where you would alternate between crying and raging in between pleas for him to let you go.

Forcing you into it would just make you resent him more.

Make you fear him more.

So he kept his distance, keeping the fantasies of forcing you into positions he liked in his head while you continued to read in peace. Franklin tried to do the same, though after a few futile minutes, he found he wasn't able to focus well on the book he'd selected. He closed it while his free hand went up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Ah, right. He remembered what he needed to mention to you.

“I'm going to be leaving tomorrow,” he said.

You didn't say anything, but you glanced back at him.

“I'll be in Meteor City,” he explained, “if all goes well, I'll only be gone for a week. But it could be longer than that.”

A beat of silence passed, with you still looking back at him, as though you were waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, you finally responded.

“Okay.”

The reply you gave was barely audible and you immediately returned your attention to your book.

Franklin frowned.

That was all you had to say, apparently. Though with the way you'd been acting, he wasn't sure why he'd been expecting anything different.

Despite knowing how useless it was, he kept trying to engage with you.

“Will you be alright being on your own that long?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

You didn't even look away from the book that time.

“Is there anything you need before I leave?”

“No.”

He stared at the back of your head while you turned the page. But even with your dedication to the book you had in hand, he saw the way you tensed when you heard him lean forward in his seat, as if you were expecting something bad to come after.

If you were that nervous then why the hell were you acting like this?

Franklin ignored it again as he spoke once more, saying “I'll be passing through Olsoria to get to Meteor City. The place with that bakery with those macaroons you liked. If you wanted, I could get some for you on my way back.”

“No thank you,” was your curt response.

I don't want anything from you

That felt like what you were really trying to say with that, and Franklin felt himself becoming irritated. You clearly sensed that fact as he saw your figure become even more rigid where you sat.

The question came again: why were you insisting on acting like this if you were really that scared of him?

His mind started to go wild with fantasies of taking you again. Of storming up behind you and forcing you against the wall, lifting up one of your legs and fucking you open after tearing away your pants and underwear, taking any and all fight out of you with every thrust of his hips.

He wanted you. And at one point, you had wanted him as well.

Since you seemed desperate to pretend it never happened, he could easily remind you of that fact.

…..

If he went through with that, all of that work he'd done in warming you up to him would be for nothing, he reminded himself.

With that, Franklin's self-control won out yet again, and he stood up as he decided to give you some space for now. He didn't miss the way you flinched when you heard him stand, nor did he miss the way your shoulders sagged in relief as he left the room.

You were having trouble adjusting, he told himself. You would come around eventually. You needed to.

Franklin's business in Meteor City had taken less time than he initially anticipated, so it was only just over the week mark when he had returned. While the more practical side of him anticipated that your attitude would be the same as before, another part of Franklin was hopeful that things would be different once he came back. That maybe you wouldn't push him away anymore, and that perhaps the week away was what you needed in order to warm up to him again.

Why he had such a hope, he had no idea.

The practical part of him turned out to be correct, as you had the nerve to look disappointed when he walked through the door, only offering a small nod in response to his greeting to you before you quickly disappeared.

Nothing had changed since he had gone: once again he would try to talk with you, and once again you never engaged in any meaningful way. If anything, things had escalated. You now made a point to move to another room whenever he walked into the one you were occupying, and that first night back ended with you laying at the very edge of the bed again, almost teetering on falling off the mattress completely in your refusal to be close to him. The day that followed was the exact same as you treated him with apprehension and barely hidden disgust. You said maybe five words to him that day, and the distance between the two of you in the bed stayed.

He truly wondered what exactly your endgame was in all of this – you needed to know that he wouldn't put up with this forever. The way you looked nervous whenever he came close was clear indication that you anticipated he would snap at some point.

But instead of again questioning why you would continue when you feared him in that way, Franklin didn't comment on any of it. While he still felt some irritation at how you rejected him, he was now having an easier time dealing with it. Because, unbeknownst to you, he'd returned from his childhood home with a backup plan that he'd tucked away among his things.

A chance sighting while he'd been back in his roots of Meteor City had brought forth an idea, and within the hour Franklin found himself in possession of what could possibly be the answer to the problems he'd been experiencing with you: a pricey bottle of pills that had made the seller snicker when he had asked for them.

Franklin wasn't a stranger to illicit substances. Just about everyone in the troupe had tried something at one point or another, and he wasn't any exception, trying various things alongside some of the others when they all were younger. Maybe it was because he was getting older, but such things didn't interest him anymore. Do too much, be it D² or some other drug that was popular, and you ended up enslaved to it. A fair amount of the residents in Meteor City fell into that hole, rotting their bodies and minds with drugs all so they could have some relief from the harsh life they lived in the junkyard they called home.

These pills were different. He didn't need to add to your erratic behavior by getting you addicted. All he needed was for you to let go of your fear for just a little bit.

Initially after buying them he'd found himself struck by a case of buyer's remorse, uncertain if it had been a stroke of genius or a horrible waste of jenny. There was also a great risk involved: if you managed to find out what he intended, you would never warm up to him again.

But if the aphrodisiacs worked in the way they were supposed to, you would go back to wanting his touch. Maybe even begging for it.

And with every instance of you pulling away from him, you made his decision to use them on you that much easier.

All he had to do was wait for the right time.

It was close to a week after Franklin returned that you needed to go grocery shopping, and you didn't say much to him beyond the fact that you needed to get more food. You walked away without any response when Franklin said that he would be going with you.

Franklin didn't comment on it.

Not much was said between the two of you after you left, though you managed to get out a half-hearted “thanks” when he complimented you on the skirt you were wearing. The only bit of conversation you initiated after that was to quietly mentioned at that he didn't need to come with you. Franklin's reply was that he wanted to spend time with you. You nodded, though based on your expression it was clear you would have preferred to have been alone.

Franklin again said nothing about it.

When the two of you made your way around the store, you were guarded around him. Not as bad as you had been in the past, admittedly, but every now and then you would look back at him nervously. Did you think he would try to do something? What exactly did you think he would do in a place as public as this one?

Only once did he step closer to you, intending to place his hand on your lower back when you were reaching up for something and it looked as though you were becoming unsteady. You saw it coming and darted away from him, throwing the item from the shelf into the basket as you mumbled some excuse about why you needed to be away from his proximity right at that moment.

That irritation in him wanted to bubble up to the surface, but Franklin once more remained silent.

By the time you had made it to the checkout lane, he had made his decision:

Franklin would use the pills on you tonight.

That was how he got to where he was now: standing close by with a single pill in hand as you began to separate the meal you had prepared into two different portions, all the while he waited for a moment when you wouldn't notice him slip it into the food. A bit difficult to do when you were currently standing over it, looking over to him every once in a while. It didn't seem likely that you suspected he planned to do anything – you were probably just unhappy that this was a situation where you couldn't get out of being in his presence.

He waited until after you had turned away before he made his move, telling you “I'll take the plates out if you want to set out the drinks.”

“Why?” you asked.

“You've done all the work; I'd like to help out a little,” he answered.

“… Fine.”

There was a slight frown on your face, but you didn't stop him as you grabbed two drinking glasses from one of the cabinets. With your approval, he collected the plates and set them on the table in the other room. And in the time it took for you to reach your seat, he had mixed the pill in with your food.

You didn't say anything when you sat down. Nor when you began to eat. With the rest of the ingredients you'd used, you didn't notice the pill at all. Once he was certain that you had taken it, Franklin told himself to wait as he kept an eye on you. The seller's words came back to mind as he routinely glanced over at you through the silent meal. The aphrodisiacs were fast acting, they had said. Guaranteed to get whoever had taken it desperate and needy enough to throw away whatever reservations they might have.

The moment of truth didn't take long to come.

In the middle of the meal, he noticed when you paused between bites as you suddenly tensed up. You stayed frozen like that for a moment, and while your face was blank, he saw a growing panic in your eyes. It only lasted for a moment before you ultimately continued eating your meal as though everything was normal.

Only it clearly wasn't. Your growing uneasiness was plain to see as your movements became more stiff and robotic, and he saw the way you glanced up at him as you though you hoped he hadn't noticed your change in demeanor.

Franklin chose then to speak as he said “it tastes good.”

The compliment caught you off-guard, and you blinked at him for a few moments before you replied with a small “thanks.”

Your voice was hushed when you answered him, and you quickly averted your gaze as you took a long sip from your glass of water. You were doing your best to act as though everything was normal as you continued with the meal, forcing yourself to take bite after bite in between nervous looks over towards Franklin when you thought he wasn't paying attention. An uncomfortable huff of breath left your lips as you shifted in your seat, causing a twitch ran up your spine. The softest noise escaped you, one that was stifled when you bit down on your bottom lip to silence it.

Even if Franklin hadn't been watching your every move, he would've noticed that.

“Are you alright?” he asked you.

There was a guilty look on your face the second he asked that, horror overtaking your features before you hurriedly shook your head in response.

“I'm fine,” you replied.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“I…. I think I might be a bit lightheaded, but it's not a big deal,” you said.

There was a breathlessness in your tone, and that caused a heat to stir within Franklin as well.

“Are you sure that's all it is?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

You tried to continue as though nothing was wrong. No doubt you were confused by your body's sudden reaction and horrified at the thought of Franklin finding out what was happening. No doubt that horror drove you to try and prove to him that you were okay with every bite you took. But eventually, you gave up.

You set your fork down as you said “I don't think I can finish this. I'm gonna lie down for a bit.”

You didn't wait for him to respond before you got up and left, heading back to the bedroom.

He waited a few moments before he began to gather everything up, taking the plates and bagging up whatever was left of the meal for leftovers. But once that was finished, he found that he couldn't be bothered to do a thorough job with the rest of the cleanup. Franklin threw the dishes and cutlery into the sink and rinsed them for a moment before shutting the water off as he decided that was good enough. He was more interested in seeing how you were doing, and how much of a mess you were by now.

If you were desperate enough to beg him to fuck you.

He again thought of that last time together, of how bold you had been and how you had grabbed at him. How you had directed him to touch you as you placed kisses all over.

He wanted that again.

He wanted you.

And tonight you weren't going to deny him.

You were curled up into a ball on the bed when he entered the room, facing away from the doorway with your legs pulled in and your arms wrapped around yourself. When he looked closer, he saw that you were trembling. The shaky breaths that escaped your throat were easily audible within the space of the bedroom, and Franklin watched you rub your thighs together in subtle movements as though you were trying to find some relief that way.

Desperation was beginning to take hold, but you were clearly trying to keep it under control.

He spoke your name softly, and you stopped, freezing in place on the bed. Had you not realized he was in there with you?

Franklin said your name again as he asked “are you sure you're alright?”

“…. Y-yeah,” you said, keeping yourself turned away from him as you added “just n-need to rest.”

“Hm.”

The sound of his footsteps coming closer to the bed had you curling in on yourself further, and you bit your lip again in an attempt to keep in any noises. Sitting down behind you, he watched as you tried to bury your face in the sheets to keep him from seeing what you looked like in that moment.

“It's really nothing,” you managed to get out.

You really thought he would believe that this was just some lightheadedness?

“It doesn't seem like nothing,” he said to you, reaching towards you.

“It's noth-”

He grabbed you by the shoulder and flipped you onto your back.

Your eyes were wide in surprise, your mouth gaping open as you stared up at him. When it looked as though you were about to say something in response to him grabbing you, his hand traveled up to cup your cheek. Once again you were cut off as you whined at the skin on skin contact, your legs falling open as you leaned into his touch. Your whole body was running hot as Franklin glided his free hand on top of your clothes, and more gasps left your lips in the wake of his touch.

Just hearing you make those noises was having an effect on him, and the sight of you so vulnerable, so needy, had his dick hardening.

Having reached the hem of your skirt, he pulled it up to reveal the state of your underwear.

There was a wet patch on the fabric of your panties. And it was only getting bigger.

You squealed when he pressed his thumb against the spot, rubbing the folds of your pussy through the fabric. That action had you moaning and you began to buck your hips to the sensation.

Despite how this current sight of you was starting to affect him, Franklin kept his voice level as he spoke to you.

“You should've told me that you were lonely,” he said softly, thumb still pressing against your burning pussy.

Hearing his voice had snapped you out of your state somewhat, as you now pulled away from the hand he had kept on your cheek, though the way you bucked your hips against his hand didn't stop even when worry took over your features.

“I-I… I'm not…..”

Whatever sentence you were trying to form died when he rubbed your clit, a loud moan coming from you. You slapped your hand over your mouth, looking away from him.

“Leave it to me, I'll take care of you,” Franklin muttered.

For a brief moment, you took back the control of your mind that the aphrodisiac had taken from you, a look of horror returning to your face.

“No…. I can't…..”

You actually tried to move away.

Franklin snapped. That rejection was the last one that he could take and he ripped away your panties, shoving a finger into you before you could say anything else.

The sensation of that single thick digit being forced into your pussy had you cumming instantly.

You cried out, arching your back while your pussy clenched around his finger, milking the digit as your release came leaking out after. Your gaze was unfocused and you struggled to control your breathing while your legs continued to tremble. The hand of yours that had tried to push his away was now gripping him tightly.

Franklin was only vaguely aware of your reactions as he was far more concerned about the way you clenched around his finger. How your muscles felt as they pressed down on him. How your release dripped out onto the sheets beneath you. How with every mindless movement of your hips, you encouraged him to fill up that emptiness inside of you.

All of those sensations would feel better once it was his cock inside of you, and with the way his erection that was starting to get painful for him as it pressed against it's confines, he was more than eager to get to that part. Though a voice at the back of his mind told him to open you up a bit more – with how much time had passed since you had last let him fuck you, the stretch would be more than a little uncomfortable without a bit of prep.

He moved within you to press against your walls, and then he heard the way you moaned and felt how you moved your hips to full on grind against him. Just like that, he removed his finger as he chose not to bother with preparing you any further.

You could deal with it.

Your whine of disappointment was cut short as Franklin grabbed you by your hips to pull you so you were facing him, resulting in your skirt pulled up further around your waist while your legs hung off the edge of the bed.

The sound of a zipper opening and his pants falling to the floor brought your attention back to him, and when you looked back to find his cock rubbing against your slick folds, you bit your lip in anticipation. Now, instead of fighting him, you tried to move your hips so he could slip into you, an effort that was thwarted when he grabbed you by your waist and held you there. You looked up at him with dilated pupils and tears forming in your eyes, your hands going down to grasp his in an effort to encourage him to enter you.

The expression you wore was one of pure desperation.

Franklin shoved himself inside of you. Despite how wet you were from your previous orgasm, he only managed to go in about halfway, your walls having tightened up since the last time he had fucked you, and from the way your face scrunched up, he saw that you were in pain, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

Seeing the way you had cried in the past had killed his mood on more than one occasion, but all the sight did this time was spur him forward.

With a slow drag of his hips, Franklin pulled out until only the tip remained in you before he pushed in again, his large hands tight around your comparatively tiny waist as he bullied his way in further, intent on burying into you to the hilt. All resistance on your part was gone; unable to move your hips as he kept you in place, your hands reached out for Franklin, desperately grabbing at the sleeves of his shirt in an effort to pull him in closer. You wanted the closeness. You wanted to hold him and for him to hold you back.

Using those sleeves that you had gotten a death-grip on, you pulled yourself into a sitting position as you attempted to wrap your arms around his neck.

With one hand he shoved you back down onto the bed.

And after he readjusted his grip on your hips, Franklin picked up his pace as he began to fuck you faster.

Your cries of pain quickly filled the room, accompanied by a lewd squelching sound as Franklin thrust into you again and again. Every time the metal piercings that lined his cock scraped along your walls, it caused you to jolt, your voice going up a few octaves as you still tried to move your hips out of the iron hold of his hands. But even though you were full-on crying now, you weren't doing anything to stop him. The affects of the drug in action: keeping your mind focused on the burning feeling inside of you that needed to be satiated and disregarding everything else. Whatever worries you had about the whole situation would come later; right now, all you could do was take the harsh treatment he was giving you.

Franklin stared down at you, watching your pained expression slowly fade as you got used to the feeling of his length being inside of you again, though every now and then you would still tense up, a soft, short whimper interrupting your frequent moans.

It wouldn't hurt so much if you'd given in on your own earlier

With that thought in mind, Franklin kept up the harsh pace, his cock battering open your pussy until he was able to sheath himself in all the way. Your tears that fell as a result of that were numerous, but never once did you tell him to stop.

Eventually Franklin flipped you over onto your front, forcing you onto your hands and knees to fuck you from behind. He changed up where he held you, now keeping one hand securely in your hair while the other slapped your ass. Once again your shrieks and squeals echoed in the room, and Franklin alternated which hand was holding you, delighting in seeing the way your skin became marked up from the force of his hits.

The way he hit you combined with his dick hitting a particular spot inside of you had you cumming again, and the feeling of your heat pressing down around his cock was what pushed him over the edge. With one hand still in your hair, Franklin pressed you down into the mattress while he kept your hips raised, leaving you to squirm as you felt his cum spilling out and dripping down your thighs.

A satisfied moan left his lips as Franklin loosened his grip on you, keeping his cock inside of you as he began to stroke your hair softly as he looked you over. Your skin was still hot to the touch, a layer of sweat covering you as you trembled beneath him. A quick glance towards the quickly bruising skin of your ass and there was no doubt that the next day would be uncomfortable for you whenever you would need to sit down. With how hard he'd hit you, maybe it would last longer than that.

Good.

Franklin leaned over you, the brief reprieve all he needed before he felt he could go again as he moved you over onto your side. He began fucking you from a new angle, and with how sensitive your previous orgasms had left you, your throat was quickly turning raw from how often he had you moaning.

When you pushed yourself up by your arms and once again reached for him, he chose to indulge you. With a shaky hand, you reached out to cup his cheek and pull him forward, and the action ended with you placing a soft kiss on his lips.

He kissed you back, at first matching your softness, then he pulled away to bury his face in your neck, covering it in lovebites and resuming the harshness of his thrusting.

He took you several times that night, and it was long overdue for both of you. Franklin painted your hot little walls white several times that night as he claimed you, and any and all fight had completely vanished from your system. Even in your exhausted state, you still tried to meet his thrusts, the drug having you far gone enough that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

By the end of it, you were fully naked and slumped over on the bed, your body still twitching as you tried to recover while Franklin's breathing was still calming down as he sat next to you. He reached out to you again, once more to pet your head after he brushed the hair out of your face. The noise you made upon feeling his touch sounded as though you were satisfied.

Not long after, the toll of the long night finally forced you into sleep.

Despite being early in the morning, it was still dark out when you got up from the bed, Franklin waking up shortly before you left the room due to the loud way in which you had stumbled about on your way out the door. A light on the other side of the hallway shone into the bedroom afterwards.

When he heard no further activity, Franklin got up to follow after you.

He found you standing at the sink, your hands gripping the edge of the surface to hold yourself up while you stared at the mirror before you. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you were frowning as you looked at the figure that stared back at you, taking in the sight of the bruises that had been left upon your skin. Your gaze went to him when you realized he was standing in the doorway, and it then seemed as though you were filled with a vague sense of distress just at the sight of him.

Franklin pretended not to notice that as he asked “everything alright?”

“….. I don't know,” you answered.

You looked back to the mirror as your hand left its place on the sink to trail over a mark that had been left on your collarbone, though you almost immediately placed your hand back on the sink when you unintentionally began to lean forward. Franklin was quick to steady you as he held you by your shoulders.

“You should come back to bed and lay down,” he told you, “I don't want you falling over.”

You didn't reply, instead looking down at the bruises that were scattered across your body.

“What happened earlier?” you asked suddenly.

Franklin blinked.

“What do you mean? We had sex.”

“Yeah, but….”

You trailed off as you looked away from him, your hands gripping the sides of the sink hard while your mind going over the events from only a few hours earlier. Then you opened your mouth as if you were going to speak, and after struggling to come up with the words, you spoke again.

“Did you…?”

Once more you left your sentence unfinished, and this time it seemed as though you were too scared to complete it.

“Did I what?” Franklin asked, making a point to raise his brow in question as though he had no idea what you were getting at.

“…. Did…. Did you drug me?”

Your question hung in the air while the seconds passed by in silence. Franklin didn't reply and you didn't look at him.

Then Franklin's hands fell from your shoulders. You looked back to him then, only to find an irritated expression on his face.

“Really?”

That one word that was dripping with disgust was all he said to you before he turned away, heading back towards the bedroom and making it a few steps into the hallway, intent on leaving you where you were.

Franklin was stopped when you grabbed him by the arm.

“I'm sorry!”

You were crying – sobbing, as you held onto him, both of your arms wrapped around his.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” you repeated, “I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry, please-!”

Apologies continued to spill from your mouth as your knees sank down onto the floor, still keeping your grip on his arm as your hands slid down to hold onto his wrist. He looked down at you, watching the way your tears flowed while you sat on the cold floor of the hallway, your weak hold on him likely the only reason as to why you were staying upright.

If Franklin wanted to be cruel, he would've wrenched his wrist away from you and gone back to bed, leaving you a sobbing mess in the hallway. Maybe he would give you the same treatment you'd been giving him for the past few weeks. How devastating would it be if you could only get one word answers from him? To have your only source of company not want anything to do with you? How well would you handle any of that now that you'd been forced into this state?

As interesting as it might be to find that out, he didn't want that right now.

While he did pull out of your grip, he did so gently and scooped you into his arms after, holding you while you cried. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, as though you were scared he would vanish right then and there.

“It's alright. Don't cry,” he began, petting your hair again as he added “you haven't gotten a lot of sleep. That's probably making you say things that you don't mean.”

You nodded.

“The only reason you're feeling strange is because you've been feeling alone and stir crazy for a while now, right?” he asked.

You nodded again, eagerly accepting the explanation Franklin had provided for you without an ounce of hesitation. He wondered if you were actually listening to him or if you were just so desperate for him to not reject you that the words were going right over your head.

Regardless of what it was, at least it had you holding him again.

Franklin placed a kiss on your forehead, and that seemed to calm you down some, though your grip around his neck didn't loosen much.

“It's okay. So let's just forget about this and get some sleep,” he mumbled against your skin.

You nodded in agreement for a third time.

You clung to him even after he had placed you back in the bed, one of your hands on his chest while you cuddled up against his side. Franklin wrapped an arm around you to hold you close, and that further helped in calming your mood as your tears finally stopped, though you continued to sniffle for a few moments longer. He continued to give you reassuring touches as he caressed your skin, something you appreciated as you nuzzled your face against his chest.

Not long after the sad noises coming from you stopped as you finally fell back asleep. Your arms were still around him, and his body felt warmer in the areas where he felt your touch.

Franklin felt content as he continued to caress your skin.

This was the way it was supposed to be, he thought to himself.

You by his side, readily accepting his touch and offering your own affection in return. That was how things should be between the two of you.

And things would be like that from this point onward; Franklin would make sure of it. No more of the constant back and forth of ignoring his presence and then being all over him. No more of your barely hidden contempt as you went out of your way to avoid him. You were his, and just as much as you were meant to love him back, you were meant to give yourself to him so that the both of you could feel pleasure.

Franklin hoped you would remember that from now on.

And if not….

Well, he had plenty of pills left.

[synkqngel]

#resolutions.

pairing: non!idol winter x f!reader.

desc: 2 hours until midnight, 2 hours until you welcome the new year and 2 hours until minjeong’s 24th birthday.

wc: 1.6k

tags: slight angst if u squint; not proofread, minjeong seems like a red flag at first 💔

warnings: none really, maybe a SLIGHT implication of sexual encounters (not really but yk)

it had been aeri’s idea to throw a new year's party against your better judgement — after all, you're her flatmate, which also means you have a say on what gatherings can happen in this apartment specifically. “come on, yn, it'll only be a small gathering,” the pink haired girl had told you.

by ‘small gathering’, she meant her six of her colleagues, old friends from your high school, and her whole friend group. by no means was this considered large, but you worry about how everyone would fit in a 200sqm apartment. her friend group (which was coincidentally also your *only* friend group), consisted of jimin, yizhuo, and minjeong. you didn't hate minjeong, it's not like you weren't close or anything— you were, maybe just a little too much. unbeknownst to the other three, you had been stuck in a constant cycle of ‘will they won't they’, a cruel reminder of the nights you’ve spent in the blonde’s twin sized bed only to wake up without her.

kim minjeong is confusing.

you don't know where you stand with her. multiple times she has whispered you, ‘i love you’ underneath the covers; multiple times where she had almost slipped up and introduced you as her girlfriend in front of people she meets, only to act like she doesn't even *know* you later. confusion and hurt: the two words you would use to describe your relationship (or lack thereof), and intoxicating: the word you would use to describe kim minjeong— or maybe hesitant. countless of times you have fallen into this game of push and pull.

and it would take the heavens to keep you from doing so.

~

aeri snaps her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your daydream. “hellooo? aeri to n/n,”

you whip your head over to look in her direction, blinking a few times. “sorry, what’re you talking about?”

“you've been like this all day,” she continues, furrowing her eyebrows. “is something up? c’mon, spill it— im your best friend.”

a few seconds of silence follow, before you finally snap out of it for a second time. “nothing, i'm just tired, we've been cleaning the damn apartment all day long, aeri.”

the pink-haired girl began to laugh, seemingly relieved her best friend, the one she knew and loved was back. “there you are! you've been strangely quiet, i was getting worried.”

“i hate cleaning, you know that, gi,”

meaningless conversation followed, something the two of you had grown to love ever since you moved in together, before the sound of your doorbell ringing caught your attention. patting you on the back, aeri stood up, making her way to the door to see who it was. checking the front door camera, the familiar heads of wine red and black hair appeared at the door, you heard aeri animatedly greeting the two before the door shut behind them.

you stood up, moving to hug jimin and yizhuo with a grin plastered across your face. thank the lord the previous conversation with aeri distracted you from the thoughts of minjeong. “jimin, ning, thanks for coming,” you smiled, exclaiming into the material of jimin’s sweater.

the tallest laughed, fixing your top as she pulled away. “of course, if it's you guys, i'd come in a heartbeat.”

you'd always considered jimin to be the most motherly out of everyone, taking care of each and every one of you and your friends. turning to yizhuo, you find she’s already sat down at the kitchen island, pouring herself a drink as she gossips with aeri.

~

coats pile up on the rack as the night falls and the party stretches on, with more familiar faces and some unfamiliar ones, which you assume are aeri’s colleagues. however, when the doorbell rings again only to find minjeong at the door with a small present, all your emotions begin to flood your mind, the buzz of the party unable to distract your thoughts when you're faced with the root of your distress.

a beat passes.

“i didn't think you'd come. i thought you were in busan.” a mumble. you avoid her neutral gaze in fear of breaking down.

“i came back early,” she replies in a much softer tone. the short haired girl extends the gift box out to you. “merry late christmas, don't tell the others i didn't get anything for them,”

you let her in, watching as she goes through the process of hugging and greeting each one of her friends before walking off to talk to some other people. pocketing the small gift box, you slump down on the couch, watching the sky outside for a while.

“hey,” a voice beside you says. someone approaches you, glass in hand, and you recognise her from one of your classes. you turn to face her, sitting up offering a small smile. “yn, right? i'm natty.”

“oh, yeah, ive seen you around but we've never had the chance to talk before,” she smiles at your words, taking a sip of her drink. “nice to meet you.”

you return the smile; she's sociable, easy to talk to even. “nice to meet you, too.”

the minutes pass, and you fail to notice minjeong’s eyes boring into the back of your head from where she's sat on a stool. ryujin stops herself mid sentence, her eyes following the blonde’s trail of sight. “jealous, huh?“

the other whips her head around to face her. “huh? what do you mean?”

“never mind,” she smiles before changing the subject.

minjeong watches your conversation intently— just why was her face getting hot? her expression is a mix of frustration, bitterness, and confusion. just why was she feeling this way? she runs her hand through her short blonde hair, turning to ryujin. “i'll be back, i'm going to the bathroom.” the other gives her a nod as she basically dashes to lock herself in the bathroom. as minjeong stares at her reflection in the mirror; she grips the edge of the counter, her face red and eyes glossy. “fuck, i'm losing it,” she mumbles.

kim minjeong has never felt this way.

now that she has; she doesn't know how to handle it— and it's killing both you and her at the same time: two birds with one stone.

switching the faucet on, she splashes her face with the chilling water in an attempt to snap herself out of it; to collect and compose herself. minjeong looks back at her reflection in the mirror, face now dripping with water— her reflection scares her. “get it together, kim minjeong. jesus christ, what are you doing?!” she whispers before drying her wet face with a paper towel and making her way back to the party.

the time on her phone displays 11:53. 7 minutes until midnight.

after searching almost desperately for another three minutes, she finds you alone on the balcony, silently watching you as you stared at the skyline, the cold winter air blowing at your face and messing up your hair.

her breath hitches at the sight.

you turn your whole body around, leaning against the glass railing. “what?”

“we need to talk,” minjeong states, stepping closer.

“about what?” your eyebrows furrow and you look to the side briefly.

“our relationship.”

those two words hit you like a fucking punch to the gut. you freeze in place, looking her square in the eyes. your eyes widen and the words you're trying so desperately to say become trapped in your dry throat.

“you don't get to say that, kim minjeong.”

minjeong is taken aback. she furrows her eyebrows, her lips forming a slight frown. “what?”

“you heard me. you don't get to show up and tell me we need to talk about ‘our relationship.’” you scoff, stepping closer to the other. “because, let's be real, what fucking relationship even is there? we're friends, but you sometimes want to pretend we're dating for your own benefit— what's it going to be, minjeong, what am i?!”

a beat follows as neither of you talk, too afraid to continue.

those minutes feel an awfully lot like hours before she speaks again.

11:58.

“look, n/n,” she begins. “fuck, i never meant to make you feel that way, i'm- i'm just confused, and—”

“confused?“

“let me speak. now that i've gotten too close, i pushed you away in confusion— i don't know how the fuck to deal with shit like this,” minjeong continues, extending her arm to grab your hand— its cold against hers. “i'm so, so sorry, and i know you're hurt and pissed and you don't have to forgive me, but—”

the commotion from inside the party breaks the bubble surrounding the both of you, pulling you back to reality.

ten.

breathe in; breathe out. minjeong's breaths are shallow as she takes in your slightly confused expression.

nine.

minjeong swallows, looking you in the eyes before continuing.

eight.

“i'm so sorry,”

seven.

she closes her eyes for a half-second. “i really, really,”

six.

confused, you speak up. “minjeong, what the hells going—”

five.

“shush.” the blonde huffs. “let me continue.”

four.

“i really like you,”

three.

she tracks her words again, realising what she had just said. “no, i'm in love with you.”

two.

minjeong takes a deep breath, making eye contact.

one.

“i'm really, really in love with you,” she whispers, as if no one but you and her were to know it, as if it were a secret.

twelve midnight.

“minjeong, what—” you begin, only to be interrupted and caught off guard by the sensation of minjeong’s pink lips against yours. soft and gentle, she grabs the side of your face, pulling you in as you finally kiss her back, and it's all she's ever wanted. it's all *youve* ever wanted.

all the nights you've spent dreaming of this, dreaming of minjeong: dreaming of being hers, weren't in vain. no, not at all.

when she finally pulls away, she stares into your eyes, the city lights reflecting off of your irises. “happy new year.”

a few seconds of comfortable silence pass before you speak again, your voice quiet.

“and happy birthday, minjeong,”

~

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR AND HAPPY WJNTER DAYY (in my timezone atleast) i literally wrote this in like an hour while waiting for the fireworks so i'm sorry if it's trash 😭😭

[psychotrenny]

Reading through Michael Parenti's "The Assassination of Julius Caesar: A People's History" and it's almost hilarious how much the Roman upper class, in their own words sounds like their contemporary Western equivalent. Like they squawked on and on about their commitment to order and freedom and the common good right up until there was a political movement demanding the smallest concessions to the lower classes. At this point they began screeching about how their sacred freedoms and the very foundation of society are under attack and so they are justified in using whatever brutal, blatantly illegal means they want in order to stop them. Like the later Roman Republic just went through this cycle of some Politician gaining a following by proposing moderate reforms to mitigate the impoverishment of greater society by a small group of wealthy landowners, this group of landowners going off their nut about how clearly this guy wanted to burn Rome to the ground and make himself king, and then brutally executing him and his followers with paramilitary death squads. All while they continued to get richer by making everyone else poorer, robbing their own country as much as they looted their imperial conquests. Like with how the USA's Founding Fathers idolised ancient Rome I bet they'd be very proud of how their nation turned out

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗟𝗔𝗕𝗬𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗛

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Between love and pain, Y/N fights to save the relationship that once brought her and Chris together, but Chris's fear of commitment seems to stop them from moving forward, leading the two to find themselves trapped in a labyrinth of despair and uncertainty.

WARNING: Crying, fighting, dark thoughts, insecurities, angst (with a happy ending).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N looked at her phone, waiting for a message that never arrived. It was another lonely night, sitting in her bed, with her heart heavy with anguish. Her relationship with Chris started out like a fairy tale, but in recent days, everything seemed to be slowly falling apart.

She couldn't understand what was happening. There was a growing distance between them, as if Chris was moving away from her heart, plunging into an abyss of silence. The calls were becoming less and less frequent, the face-to-face moments rare and full of tension, the last one being the worst they had ever had.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N walked down the hallway of Chris's house with a hesitant but happy heart. They hadn't seen each other for days, and she had noticed how distant he was in his texts, which made her want to visit him and spend the day together, maybe understand what had happened and help him with whatever he needed.

Entering the room she had frequented too many times to even count, she found Chris sitting on his own bed, his gaze lost somewhere in the distance. She quickly opened an involuntary smile, perhaps lighting up the room - as Chris said she always did - but he barely looked at her, his lips curling in a gesture of disdain.

"Hey baby." Y/N muttered softly, trying to ignore the feeling of rejection that enveloped her almost instantly.

"Hey." The brunette replied coldly, his voice cutting like a sharp blade.

Y/N tried to make conversation, she really did. She asked about his day, about how he was feeling, but Chris's answers were short and harsh. He seemed to avoid her at all costs, as if her mere presence was a nuisance.

The pain inside Y/N grew with every second that passed in that house that until days ago had been her refuge. She felt like a stranger in her own skin, an intruder in her own relationship.

As Chris continued to ignore her, the voice in her mind began to scream, hurling cruel accusations at herself. She found herself questioning her own worth, her own ability to love and be loved.

Tears threatened to overflow her eyes, but she fought to keep them contained. She didn't want to give Chris the satisfaction of watching her break, of watching her succumb to the pain he himself inflicted on her.

When it was finally time to leave, Y/N felt relief mixed with despair. She didn't know if she could stand another second in that place, surrounded by Chris's indifference.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N really felt like she was holding on to a fragile rope, about to snap at any moment.

Meanwhile, Chris struggled through a storm of turbulent thoughts. Fear consumed him, dragging him away from the love he had found in Y/N. He found himself trapped in a cycle of self-destruction, fueled by his own insecurities and trauma. It all started when he realized that he loved her, he fell in love... Again.

Each unanswered message was a sharp knife piercing his soul, but he couldn't muster the courage to face his fears. Commitment was a monster that had haunted him since teenage days, a dark shadow that followed him even in his happiest moments.

He found himself questioning everything: his choices, his desires, even the very love he felt for Y/N, he didn't believe he had allowed himself to love her. Would it be fair to drag her into his darkness, condemning her to a life of uncertainty and pain? Or would it be nobler to walk away from her, leaving her free to find someone who could offer her the love she deserved?

The nights became endless for Chris, a constant battle between his head and his heart. He found himself lost in a labyrinth of doubts, struggling to find a way out but only sinking deeper into darkness.

Meanwhile, Y/N desperately tried to understand what was happening. They were just reaching the 3-month mark of their relationship, everything falling apart so suddenly, and so she blamed herself, questioned her own faults, trying to find an explanation for Chris's distance.

Maybe he had finally woken up and saw that she wasn't good enough for him. Maybe he had discovered he wasn't ready for a relationship. Or maybe... Maybe he had found someone else, the ideal and perfect woman.

But the answer was beyond her reach, hidden in the dark recesses of his mind.

And so, the gulf between them continued to grow, separating them more and more. It was a silent tragedy, a love lost in the shadows of doubt and fear. As Y/N struggled to stay afloat, Chris found himself diving deeper and deeper, moving away from the only ray of light in his life.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N took a deep breath before knocking on the door of the triplets' house. Nick's invitation to spend the day there seemed like a ray of hope amid the darkness that consumed her soul. She knew that seeing Chris again would be painful after their last encounter, but the simple possibility of being close to him was enough to make her accept it.

Nick greeted her with a warm smile, but Y/N could barely return it. Her heart was beating wildly as she entered the place that transformed into a stage of pain and uncertainty. Every corner of the house seemed to echo with happy memories, but now those memories were like thorns piercing her skin.

She could feel Chris' gaze on her as she reached the living room floor, but when she turned to face him, he looked away at the turned off television, acting as if she were invisible.

Anguish grew inside Y/N every time she and Nick left his room, and inevitably, as if life was playing a trick on Y/N, came face to face with Chris. She found herself struggling to find words to break the oppressive silence that hung over them both. But Chris remained distant, his eyes empty, his expression impassive, monotonously answering Nick's questions.

She felt like a ghost...

Nick noticed the tension in the air at some point and tried to intervene, but Y/N just shook her head, unable to articulate the pain that consumed her. She felt like a helpless spectator to her own tragedy.

The day dragged on slowly, every minute an unbearable torture. Y/N tried to find comfort in the memories of the happy times she had shared with Chris, but now those memories were like sharp knives, cutting deep into her soul.

Nick found himself looking at Y/N all the time with a worried expression. He knew something was wrong, but Y/N dodged the topic every time he asked, as if he was stabbing her in the chest with a dagger, deciding to just force a smile, swallowing the words burning in her throat.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N walked down the stairs with hesitant steps, determined to get a glass of water from the kitchen, but afraid of finding her own boyfriend - how ironic - without Nick by her side.

Upon reaching the room, her eyes quickly found the figure she knew more than herself, sitting in one of the chairs, his arms resting on the wooden table and his hands holding his phone tightly.

Y/N allowed herself to watch him for long seconds, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, walking to the fridge, opening it while trying to ignore the feeling that her heart was being crushed in her chest.

"Hey." Her voice came out lower and more broken than she expected, making her wonder if he even heard it.

It's not like he'd answer anything, anyway.

She knew he would ignore her, as he had done all day, but a part of her still longed for a glimpse of the love they once shared.

As she filled her glass with water, the voice in her mind began screaming again, hurling cruel accusations against herself and her relationship.

Obviously, he's going to ignore you. He finally understands that you're just a broken piece to his perfect life.

You are not enough for him. He needs a strong, independent, and self-assured woman, not a scared little girl worn out by life like you.

Wake up, Y/N, he doesn't want you anymore.

You were a mistake.

A terrible mistake.

She found herself sinking into an abyss of self-deprecation, unable to find a way out.

It was then that something inside her broke. A wave of anger and sadness flooded her, filling her with a sudden determination. She dropped the half-full glass on the counter and turned to face Chris, her eyes brimming with pain and indignation.

"Chris." Y/N called, her voice shaking with suppressed emotion, coming out in a more vulnerable tone than she intended. "Can we talk? Please."

Chris blinked, clearly surprised by Y/N's sudden call. His eyes met hers, but he didn't say anything, just waited, as if he feared the words that might fall from his own lips.

He didn't expect her to keep trying.

Y/N felt tears burning in her eyes at the sight of him silent, expressionless, but she fought to hold her ground. She knew she needed to express the emotions that had been stifled within herself. If he didn't want her anymore, that was fine. She understood, but she needed him to formalize the situation.

"I don't know what's going on between us." She continued, clearing her throat, her voice becoming firmer as the words flowed. "But I can't live in this limbo of uncertainty anymore. I deserve better than to be ignored, Chris. We deserve better than this. I want to understand what's going on. What did I do?"

Chris remained staring at her for a few more seconds before lowering his gaze, unable to bear the intensity in Y/N's eyes. He found himself entangled in a web of regret and fear, unable to find the right words to express her feelings.

"I know I've been distant." He finally muttered, his voice thick with pain and his shoulders slumped. "And I'm sorry for that, Y/N. I just... I've been thinking, and I don't know if this is right anymore."

Chris' words cut Y/N like a sharp knife. That was it. He was going to break up with her. It would all come to an end.

She knew it.

"It's okay, it's not your fault." Y/N admitted finally. "It was... It was just a mistake... Right?"

Chris allowed his eyes to run over Y/N's weakened posture, his brow furrowed at her words.

"What was a mistake?"

"Us. We were a mistake...for you, at least." The girl sighed deeply after finishing her sentence, as if something large enough crushed her heart and lungs at the same time, hurting her and taking away all her air.

"No! What? No, honey, you were never a mistake. We... we are not a mistake, I promise you that." Chris perked up, jumping up from his seat, ready to walk over to Y/N, but his feet remained stuck against the floor, preventing him from even moving a centimeter.

"Then why, Chris? Why are you treating me like I'm a stranger? You keep pushing me away even though I try to get closer." She questioned him, thick, fat tears welling up in her eyes, running down her cheeks freely. "God, I did everything in my power to understand you, to talk to you and to make you feel welcomed, despite all the things and affirmations I needed from you too, I don't know anymore-" Her voice was already weakening when a loud and rude sob interrupted her own sentence, her right hand quickly rising towards her slightly open mouth, covering it, trying uselessly to stop the unwelcomed crying.

"Dove, please, I'm sorry for making you feel this way, I don't..." He shook his head, letting out an nervous laugh as his right hand flew to his own face, his index finger and thumb pressing the bridge of his nose, trying to stop his own tears from falling. "It was never my intention. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I just..." The boy's tone became extremely low too quickly, Y/N needing to hold her breath to hear him clearly. "I'm just scared."

"Scared? Scared of what? Do I make you feel scared?"

Chris swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Y/N's words like an anchor in his heart. He knew he needed to be honest with her, even if it meant facing his own demons.

"Scared of commitment... of giving myself completely to someone and ending up hurting myself in the process." His voice was a fragile whisper, loaded with vulnerability. "I know it's not fair to you, Y/N. You deserve someone who can give you the world, someone who isn't afraid to love. But I don't know if I'm that someone."

Y/N's tears continued to fall, a mixture of sadness and frustration that she could barely contain. She wanted to scream, to hit Chris, to demand a clear and definitive explanation. But deep down, she understood his fears, his traumas.

"I understand you're scared, Chris." Her voice was soft now, tinged with compassion, her hands drying her tear-soaked eyelashes roughly, sniffling before speaking again. "And I don't judge you for that, I just needed you to be clear with me, that you trust me enough to talk to me when things get tough. I don't care if you have that fear, I would never invalidate your feelings." She shook her head quickly, as if she wanted to make that clear. "I just wanted to talk, to understand. You left me in the dark."

Chris pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes brimming with emotion as his left hand went to his own hair, ruffling the strands. He knew Y/N was right.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby, I-" The boy took a deep breath, blinking quickly, trying futilely to ward off the tears that wouldn't stop welling up in his eyes. "I tried so hard to make you hate me. It would make everything easier, right? You would get tired at some point and give up. Give up on me. But I just ended up hurting you..." Chris shook his head, biting his bottom lip hard, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth within seconds. "You were breaking up with me, weren't you?" His voice sounded too close to a sob, his lower lip, now hurt, trembling at the thought of no longer having her as his girl, even though that was the plan from the beginning.

"I just thought it was what you wanted. You made it so explicit, Chris. How could I think of any other alternative than that?"

"I'm not too late, am I? To solve this?" His eyes looked like they were close to popping out of his skull when he finally managed to move and was able to walk towards Y/N with quick steps, grabbing her hands pleadingly. "I want to solve this... I'm sorry for what I've put you through these last few days, and I know that just saying sorry won't erase everything that I done, but I'll take care of it. I will take care of you. Please, dove."

"I need to ask you one thing first, Chris. Are you ready to stay in this relationship? I can help you and understand you, but there's no point in trying if you don't genuinely feel ready for this." Y/N explained sincerely, her heart aching with the contact of his skin against her own. She missed his touch so much.

"I do, I want you, only you, all of you, always! Please... please, babe, I-I know that I don't deserve it, but please give me a chance to make this right, to do this properly. Give me the chance to love you the way you deserve." Chris begged, squeezing his girlfriend's fingers between his own, involuntarily pulling her closer. "I want to try again, but properly this time. I want to fight my fears, my demons. And I want to do it with you by my side. Everything seemed so real now. Seeing you trying to break up with me made me realize that I can't see myself without you, I can't."

Y/N kept her eyes fixed on his for long seconds, searching for any trace of doubt, hesitation or lie on his face red and wet with tears, but she could only find a strong mix of hope and love.

She knew the road ahead would be difficult, full of challenges and uncertainty. But for the first time in a long time, she felt a spark of hope light up.

"Okay."

"Yeah? Really?" A low sob escaped Chris's mouth, fat tears rolling down his rosy cheek from the strong emotions in a short space of time, his heart racing strongly against his chest.

"Yeah. I don't want to lose you, so let's do this together." She whispered.

The boy let out a sigh of relief through tears, a small smile taking over his lips in seconds, his hands working to pull hers closer, consequently bringing her body close to his, engulfing her into a tight hug.

"I'm gonna do this right this time."

And she believed him.

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(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[soleilapproves]

catalyst - chapter 1

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex-boyfriend. (sukuna x fem!reader)

fanfic masterlist / main masterlist

Gravel crunched underneath your sneakers as you dragged them along the pavement. You had been running around the city with tired limbs and a resume in hand, trying to get a job after getting your last rejection letter from one of the medical schools you applied to.

Thank you for expressing interest in our medical program. Upon evaluating your transcripts, credentials, and extracurriculars, we regret to inform you that you are not eligible to join this year’s class. We will gladly consider your application for next year’s class if you wish to reapply. You may contact the admissions department for questions regarding the next application cycle.

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes again. You had been crying about your future for the past week. With all the hard work that went into all those volunteering hours, internships, and research assistantships, you were sure to get in.

But no, not in the system set up in this day and age. There will always be someone more qualified and well-connected than you. And even if they aren’t, they will always benefit from nepotism. 

Your feet dragged themselves till you couldn’t take it anymore. You broke down, ass landing on the curb in front of a random convenience store in the middle of some no-name neighborhood. Tears spilled down the apples of your cheeks as they drenched your chin and neck. The sky roared, and rain began to pour down. 

You wailed harder and tried to drown out the noise by yelling curses at the sky. You thought of all the tests you studied for, all the diagrams taped up on your walls, and all the money you spent on your applications. You had spent so much time and effort preparing for medical school that you couldn’t invest in a plan B. You needed a job to fund yourself, at least until you could get back up on your feet and figure out what you wanted to do, but to your misfortune, no one was hiring.

There was nothing more agonizing than being led astray from your original path. You began to question your abilities. Maybe if you had just paid attention in that class, you’d have an A instead of an A minus, or if you had just volunteered more, you’d seem more competitive. 

But it was all useless. What’s done is done. You groaned into your pruned hands. 

Then, all of a sudden, you could hear the muffled sounds of raindrops hitting canvas. “Funny, you seem different from how he described you.” You looked up to see a white-haired figure holding an umbrella over your head. “Uraume. No last name. Please come with me.”

You looked behind the figure and saw a sleek black Range Rover with tinted windows. It looked like it didn’t belong in this neck of the woods. Great, you were rejected from almost all the vacant positions in the city, and you were about to be trafficked for the benefit of wealthy people.

“I have a mace, so get away from me,” you said while walking away, not putting away much of a fight.

“Sukuna Ryomen. I’m sure you know him,” Uraume continued. “He needs you.”

Since when did traffickers start doing background checks on their victims? Your stomach churned as you began to walk faster, trying to outrun the chalky white-haired person who was now hot on your heels. However, having not eaten all day, you barely had the energy to pick up your speed, so you pulled your phone out to call the police, which, to your misfortune, was dead. You began to sob as you slowed down, and you noticed that the Range Rover was trying to catch up with you. 

It began to slow down beside you when its window rolled down. “Hey, it’s me, Yuuji!” 

You stopped, and so did the vehicle. Yuuji, your ex-best friend’s little brother, was smiling at you. “Just hear us out.” The boy (well, now a man) said with the most sincere eyes you had ever seen. Uraume walked towards you, covering your now-drenched body with their umbrella. 

-

You couldn’t believe your eyes- the once scrawny little kid you knew was now a tall man. Yuuji’s facial features had changed significantly. His round face was replaced by sharp angles (much like his older brother’s), and he also sported a few new scars (the ones beneath both his eyes being the most noticeable as they looked identical). He walked you through everything that had happened in Sukuna’s life since you both lost touch, while Uarume guided you both through the VIP area of the city’s most prominent hospital. They also casually added that they had a private investigator look into whatever you were up to in the past month, which freaked you out. No one wonder they knew way too much about you. 

It turns out that after you two lost touch, Sukuna became a famous boxing champion. He didn’t bother getting into the details of how it happened, but as far as you know, Sukuna never really expressed any interest in it whenever you were around. Yuuji pulled his phone out to show you his latest fight- the reason why he’s so battered up. 

You winced as you watched the clip, having a hard time trusting your eyes. There were many things you didn’t know about the martial arts world, but it was still shocking that you had no idea your ex was a famous and skilled fighter. It was apparent he had a knack for getting into fights with how he’d defend you whenever a bully charged towards you or a creep so much as to even looked your way. It never occurred to you that his punches were just that precise and had less recoil because he was training to be a professional fighter.

Now, here he was, on Yuuji’s phone screen, being beaten and battered like a piece of rice cake being pounded by a human mallet. “I thought you said he was good.” You mumbled. “He is, but he’s been burnt out and has refused any kind of treatment for it.

You raised your brow as the three of you stopped in front of a large wooden door. “And I’m here because?” 

“We have tried everything. Yuuji has to return to his classes soon, and I have never been able to connect with that man emotionally enough to support him through such a tough time. Even his therapist says he’s a lost cause because he refuses to cooperate.” Uraume says as they open the wooden door to reveal a large, dark hospital room. 

It takes you a while to register what’s going on, with the only source of light being the skyscrapers visible through the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows on the opposite end of the room. In the middle of the room, against the wall, was a large hospital bed with a few monitors surrounding it. In it, you could see a mop of pink hair. 

Sukuna Ryomen- professional boxer and ex-boyfriend in the flesh. The steady rise and fall of his chest told you that he was asleep. The sight led to an invisible lump forming in your throat. The last time you’d seen him in person was when you both had your biggest fight together. A shiver went down your spine as you remembered all the hurtful words you had spat at each other. In that moment, neither of you could believe you could’ve been that hostile.

You’d only ever seen him sick with a fever, and he was horrible enough to deal with during that time. You couldn’t imagine how he was feeling right now. 

“As his manager, I’d like to hire you as his… well, I’m not sure what I’d call this position, but you’ll be making sure he gets better and is up to date with all his treatments and training,” Uraume said as they took you and Yuuji out the room. 

You sighed. “You want me to be his nanny?” 

“More like a personally involved manager, but we can have Sukuna’s doctor come up with a better name. Something to do with your field of interest. Her name is Dr. Shoko Ieri, and she’ll also be sure to refer you to all the good schools in the country so you can enroll in the next session.”

You didn’t know what to focus on first- the fact that you were offered a job (albeit a nanny for an adult) or that your idol, Shoko Ieri, was ready to refer you for your next applications. You had only ever seen her present at research conferences, all while you both had a common link this entire time. You felt lightheaded- the feeling of hope finally returning after a week of non-stop anxiety fits.

“So, do we have a deal?” Uraume extended their hand. 

But then again, things aren’t so good between you and Sukuna. At least from how you see things. Your relationship with him ended on a sour note, and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you did resent him a little for simply abandoning you and never making an effort to reach out again as you did. What if you failed? What if this whole thing ends up being one giant dumpster fire? 

You hesitantly looked at the pale hand in front of you. But then again, there was no way to go from here. What would you do anyway? Your paid internships never led to any full-time positions, and you barely had any money to get by after paying your rent for the next month. You also needed to pay for all the new applications and supplementary courses for your resume. 

“You should do it. They don’t like shaking hands with people, so this is major.” Yuuji whispered in your ears.

You gulped as your heart raced. In different circumstances, you would’ve said no, but you have nothing to look forward to besides getting a part-time job, which you knew wasn’t worth it with an offer like this to compete with it. You placed your hand in Uraume’s cold ones. They quickly shook your hand and pulled away like you had the plague (“They have a small case of germophobia,” Yuuji said later).

“When do I start?” you ask.

“Immediately. Since this job requires a lot of monitoring, I’ll have a few movers get your things and take them to Sukuna’s apartment. You’ll be living with him until he gets better” 

You didn’t know how to feel at that moment, chest still tight with the uneasiness from before. What you did know for sure was that Sukuna probably wouldn't be happy seeing you so at home in his personal space. 

[defenestrationn]

Covering Riddle Rosehearts face with kisses

this is just absolute tooth rotting fluff i made fora few very dear riddle simps @fsh1

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

Riddle's hold on your face was soft as he meticulously did your make up to match his. He was initially surprised by the request. One second you two were studying peacefully, the next you were staring at him with such love while the words fell past your lips.

“Riddle, you always look so pretty..” your voice trailed off when his wide grey eyes met with yours. “Can you teach me how to do my makeup like yours?”

The boy's face felt like it was on fire. A deep red had taken hold of his face as he sat with your words. His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened once again before he could utter a soft “Alright.”

Once he calmed back down, Riddle began to guide you through the process while he gently applied the makeup. The process sounded rather simple. The hardest part had been his signature red winged eyeliner. Unbeknownst to you, riddle had added a little extra sparkle to make your features pop just a bit more.

“One last step, My Rose.” he cooed softly as he grabbed a lipstick from the desk. The color has reminded you of the roses painted red in the gardens just outside. Lipstick wasn't a part of his normal routine. However, he thought it would make a beautiful addition. 

Once Riddle has finished and set your makeup, he looked you over one more time. “You.. look stunning. Red suits you.” his voice was barely a whisper as he touched your tie to fix it. It had been fine, as it always was. And yet he couldn't stop himself. 

Music played quietly in the background as the two love birds leaned on one another. Hot tea sat before the pair as Riddle talked about his day, who got in trouble today, and how much he had missed you throughout the day. While he spoke, you couldn't help but stare at him. It was clear how much he cared for his dorm, for his friends, and for you. 

It was hard to believe this was the same riddle who insulted you for being magicless. The one who overblotted and attacked you within your first week. And yet, you couldn't deny how hard he had been working on bettering himself but also his relationship with his dorm since. And you. He had been by your side since, and you couldn't be more proud of the redhead whose words escaped your mind.

“I love you so much, Riddle. I'm so happy that we met each other. And I'm so thankful to have fallen in love with someone who's so dedicated to everything he does.” before you even gave him a chance to process your words, your red painted lips pressed a sweet kiss to his burning cheeks. 

Compliments and praise spilled past your lips. Each one followed by another kiss to his face. “You are so thoughtful.” a new lipstick mark appeared on his forehead. “You work so hard for not only yourself but your dorm.” a matching kiss on his other cheek was left behind. And you continued this cycle until your lipstick faded and he was a blushing, babbling mess. Your lipstick was smudged and the dopey love sick smile adored your own blushing face. “I love you so much Riddle. Don't you dare forget that, Okay?” with one last kiss to his lips, you had finished your assault on the boy.

Grey eyes with pupils blown wide stared up at your face. Words died on his tongue as his shaking hands slipped into his partners. His grip was tight as if he was making sure this was still real. “My… My Rose.. you are.. Sweeter than a strawberry tart..” he was stumbling over his words as he tried to return even just a fraction of the affection he had just received. 

Masterlist

https://www.tumblr.com/defenestrationn/767360149135540224/defenestrationn?source=share

[afterglowsainz]

sainz (55) blurb based on your most listened songs on Spotify?

also, love your writing! muchas gracias for the efforts you take to fuel ours and your delusions! sending love and hugs! <3 💌🫂

it’s normal if you feel alone and you miss me | carlos sainz

song; normal - feid

a/n: thank you so much! i’m happy to hear my delusions are being well received and i’ll continue to deliver🤭 <3

part of the spotify wrapped special

In all honesty, you shouldn’t have used Carlos the way you did. But in your defense, you were a bit broken when you met him, and it clearly wasn’t his fault. Maybe Carlos was just in the right place at the right time, while you were in the wrong place.

You also knew it wasn’t fair to give only half of yourself while he gave his all in a relationship that was born out of your desire to forget your ex. You had told him you were over him when, deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. But Carlos was a gentleman, he was beautiful—the kind of man you’d always wanted. Only, you weren’t ready. And you weren’t a good girlfriend at all.

The lies, the late-night escapades, the jealousy, and the fights were the catalyst for the end of a relationship that had been doomed from the start.

You felt awful when you had to say goodbye to Carlos, while his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Little by little, after the breakup, you began to realize how much Carlos meant to you. How much you missed hearing his voice when you came home after a long day, or how you loved running your fingers through his soft hair while watching TV, or the simple fact of being able to talk to him every day, knowing he’d always be there to listen to you, and you to him.

You hadn’t realized that in the process of trying to forget your ex with Carlos, you had fallen in love with him—and lost him, too.

He missed you, that was clear. But forgiving you after how you treated him was hard. And could you really blame him? You weren’t the person you should’ve been, the girlfriend he deserved.

You needed to see him again, to apologize, to ask him to come back. It started with convincing your friends to go clubbing on the weekends—then the next weekend, and the one after that—all in the hope that, by chance, Carlos might walk into the same club. Your friends noticed your intentions but chose not to intervene, simply accompanying you to the nights out. When they grew tired of going out every weekend, you reached out to other friends to keep the cycle going.

One weekend in particular, while doing your makeup, you stumbled upon a photo of Carlos in Los Cabos with his friends and a group of girls you’d never seen before. The emptiness in your chest stole your breath for one, two, three seconds before you snapped back to reality. He was enjoying his life in Los Cabos while you were still here, putting on makeup for yet another night out—a routine that had become too familiar.

You ignored the sinking feeling and finished your makeup. This time, you weren’t going to the club hoping to see Carlos for the first time in weeks; this time, you were going in the hopes of forgetting him.

But your brain and heart had other plans. You felt lonely and missed him, and you accidentally called the guy you were dancing with "Carlos" as he offered you one tequila shot after another. You drank just to avoid feeling sad about missing him, though tears still slipped down your cheeks as you remembered the photo you’d seen hours earlier. The guy wiped them away gently as he continued dancing close to you.

The club was too hot, with no room to breathe, and you felt alone—you just had to get out of there. When you finally managed to separate yourself from the guy, you stepped outside for fresh air. And though you didn’t realize it at the moment, all those tequila shots had taken their toll, and you decided that calling your ex-boyfriend was a good idea.

After five rings, the call went to voicemail—until the familiar deep voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Carlos,” you slurred, a drunken smile on your face.

“Y/n? What’s going on?”

You took a few seconds to respond. What was going on? You missed him, thought about him all the time, wanted him back.

“I was thinking about you,” you simply said.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, his tone a bit more alert now.

“Why did you disappear all of a sudden?” You ignored his question. “What happened to us?” When Carlos didn’t answer, you spoke again. “I miss you. And I’m sorry.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” God, how you missed his voice. “You look happy in your photos. Why are you telling me this when you’re drunk? Why are you telling me this when I’m moving on?”

The tears didn’t take long to fall down your cheeks. Each word he said was like a little dagger to your heart, and you wanted to apologize in every language, to scream it at the top of your lungs, but all you could do was cry silently as he grew angrier with you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeated, crying. “I love you, and I miss you, and I’m sorry.”

The silence on the other end made you check if Carlos had hung up, but he was still there.

“I hope you feel what I felt throughout our entire relationship, Y/n. And I hope you never make anyone else go through what I went through with you.”

Finally, the line went dead.

[drysdalesworld]

work song

pairing: luke castellan x fem!nike!reader

genre: angsty, some fluff, & comfort

word count: 1.3k+

warning(s): mentions of violence, mentions of nightmares, mention of reader death in dreams, luke being sleep deprived, & kronos talking to luke

note: happy new year! here’s my new year gift for y’all <3 idk what’s up with me & always writing nike!reader fr. not set in the “the sun & it’s shadow” universe! but there are alludes to nike!reader. please ignore the many inaccuracies in this 🙏 not proofread!

Luke Castellan didn’t like going to bed.

Going to bed meant falling asleep and falling asleep meant he’d dream and dreaming meant he’d be met with images of death, revenge, destruction, and hope. He often saw the destruction of Camp Half-Blood the minute his head hit the pillow. Of Mount Olympus and the Gods. But, mostly of you.

Luke would hold your limp and cold body in his arms as he cried for you, jerking awake with gasps and tears. An aching feeling settling in his chest as he clawed at his rapidly beating heart, trying to calm himself down, gripping the sheets beneath him as he caught his breath. Nights like these always ended up with him dragging himself to cabin seventeen, crawling into your bed as you soundly slept, arms instinctively wrapping around the body of your beloved as if you knew he needed the comfort.

Those kinds of nightmares shook the Castellan boy to his core. He didn’t know why he dreamt of those kinds of things. Causing any kind of pain to you was something he’d never dream of doing, but yet his dreams were often full of it. You dying by his hand, blood staining his hands crimson.

Sleep didn’t come easy when he was alone. Haunted by the future images of destruction and loss. It was a never ending cycle that Luke Castellan could not escape. His only freedom from it was in your arms, which is a place where he found himself tonight.

Luke currently found himself sprawled across your nearly made bed, all four corners tucked tightly into the bedframe and stuffed animals piled onto the end of your bed. His calloused fingers lightly drummed against the soft material of your bed spread. He was always impatient when it came to waiting for you to return from your nightly gossip sessions in the Aphrodite cabin.

The familiar sound of cabin seventeens buzz began to quiet down as the night got later and everyone got settled for bed. Luke was the only one awake by the time every Nike child fell into a deep slumber, tossing a small stuffed teddy between his hands as he continued to wait, desperately trying to silence his racing thoughts.

It was always the same every night—lay awake, stare into the dark corner of the Hermes cabin, strain his ears for any strange sounds until he heard his voice, and try not to go mad.

He succeeded most nights. But on the nights where Luke’s strength and sanity wore thin, he crawled into the very space he’s occupying at the moment.

Luke.

The teddy bear fell limp against the boys chest as he halted his movements in tossing it.

Luke, I know you can hear me.

Eyes squeezed shut and muttering the same comforting story his Mother used to whisper to him as a child before slumber took him into their embrace.

You can fight it all you want, Luke. But we both know you’re already mine. You can’t stop fate.

The Hermes boy continued to mutter the bedtime story to himself, losing count of how many times he had to repeat it. His throat began to hurt.

It’s fate. All of it is fate. You’ll join me. She’ll die. The Gods will submit to our orders and grant you whatever you desire, Luke.

Luke’s eyes were closed so tightly that the rushing of blood in his ears began to hurt his head, tears spilling out from the corners and ran down the sides of his face.

No matter how hard you try, you’re not strong enough to save her.

“Shut. Up.” Luke whispered, hands going up to his hair, tugging the strands in frustration.

I thought you wanted this, Luke? Wanted the Gods to pay for their negligence and cruelty? To see them bow at your feet, begging for mercy?

“No,” he muttered. It’s not worth it if she dies. None of it is. He thought to himself.

Luke Castellan knew that the visions Kronos showed him in his sleep were exaggerations of what could happen. So when he started to see your death by his hands, he began to reconsider reaching out to Kronos and exact revenge on the Gods. He couldn’t live without you, as dramatic as it sounded. It was true.

The dark haired boy knew that the old Titan was going to answer, but the creaking of the cabin floors and the sound of your familiar pitter-patter is what broke the connection.

Luke bolted up, the stuffed teddy falling to the floor.

“Oh my Gods, Luke! You scared me. Why aren’t you in bed?” You whispered, hand over your chest as your heart rapidly beat against it from the unexpected fright.

Your boyfriend didn’t answer you. He instead stood up from your ruffled bedspread and gathered you into his arms, face digging into your neck as he held you tightly to his frame.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You gently asked, hands wrapping around his shoulders as your hands wandered to his dark curls.

Luke’s silence is all you needed as you hummed out an acknowledgment, fingers gently rubbing circles into his scalp. He had told you of his particular struggles after he had battled back and forth with himself for days about the wrongness of it all. You were shocked he would ever do such a thing, but you understood. You understood what he was trying to achieve, begging him to not go through with it. Being intertwined with a Titan like Kronos could not garner positive results. Luke agreed to not go further, but Kronos still lingered and until the two of you could find a way to break that connection, he would continue to whisper horrendous things into Luke’s ear.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?” You asked, softly pulling him away from your neck so you could get a good look at him.

He had dark circles under his eyes. His dark locks were tangled and wild. His cheeks looked sunken in a bit, a sign that he wasn’t eating or sleeping properly.

A frown etched itself onto your face, thumbs traveling to his cheeks to gently caress them. He leaned into your touch, Luke’s eyes bore into your own as the two of you stood there in complete silence and darkness.

“It’ll all be alright, okay? We’ll figure it out. We always do, Luke” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your boyfriends chin, narrowly missing his bottom lip.

Luke only meekly nodded, allowing you to guide the both of you to your bed, swiftly tugging at the tightly tucked sheets. Once the soft sheets were untucked, you crawled in first, laying yourself back first as you opened your arms for Luke to nestle himself in. And that he did.

You wrapped your arms around Luke as he brought the covers up to both of your chins, face tucked into your neck once again. He melted into your frame, body relaxing as the only thing he could hear was your heartbeat against his ear.

No words were further exchanged between the two of you. The only sound of crickets and the howling wind echoing throughout the cabin. You knew that this would be a topic for tomorrow and that the only thing that mattered in the moment was Luke getting some deserved sleep. You couldn’t fathom the kind of struggle he went through everyday and you only hoped that your presence at least eased it in some way.

Luke knew that this had to come to an end. He was tired of feeling this way and not getting a reprieve from the Titan. He needed to protect you from the influence of Kronos. No matter what it took.

Sleep finally consumed the both of you after minutes passed. You dreamt of archery and training with your siblings while Luke dreamt only of darkness and guilt.

[timeslugarts]

Vox with a very sleepy reader. I forget the proper medical term for it but reader is just always tired and sleeping. With a silly twist of reader always waking up when Vox moves away, having to follow him to his next destination and immediately clocking out again for the cycle to begin again.

-🎉

Heyoooo!!! I did it, woohoo!! I hope you enjoy it. I had no idea where to go with this, but I think it ended up cute :)

VOX X SLEEPY READER 🎉

His phone beeped somewhere on the other side of the room and Vox sighed. You were tucked delicately into his side, arms wrapped around his torso snoring away. Not a care in the world even though his phone kept beeping.

You looked so peaceful, but he had to answer the damn phone or it would just continue to ring. Slowly, he swung one leg out of the bed, and then the other. Making sure to disturb the bed as little as he possibly could. Next came the hard part, he gently gripped your hand and slithered himself out of your grasp.

You groaned. Vox froze. He didn't even breathe for fear of waking you up. He knew as soon as you'd open your eyes he couldn't possibly say no and have to tuck himself back into bed with you.

You stopped moving though, breath evening out, and so he continued his journey. The phone was only a few feet away, but it felt like miles with the pace he was moving.

Vox tiptoed across the cold floor and made his way over to his desk. Spinning his chair around he sat, eyes still cautiously on you. Waiting.

He answered his phone as quietly as he could, whispering the whole time as Val yelled on the other end. Something about how he needed more whores for his next production and how he needed Vox's help to send out applications for the hiring process.

Vox's eyes never left your figure. It wasn't until the phone call ended that he let out a breath, he made it, he's in the clear. You're out cold.

He swiveled around in his chair and began working on Val's demands and anything else he was behind on. Fingers clicking away on the keyboard, he was about halfway through the email when a groggy voice could be heard.

"Voxxy?" It couldn't have been more than 5 minutes but here you were needing him so you could keep sleeping.

"I'm right here doll, come on." He patted his thigh as you padded across the floor still wrapped in the comforter. You climbed nimbly into his lap, curling yourself around him and swiftly falling right back asleep.

Vox chuckled as he watched you pass back out immediately. At least he could get some work done, he thought idly stroking your hair.