#tw: nearly panicking

[wounds-seen-and-unseen]

Memorio Occultae In Nubio Occultas- 1: The First Cloud

All right, here we begin!

Please refer to this post for the requisite context-building for this fic.

Trigger warnings: Discussions of dementia, character breaking down, character nearly panicking, implied self-blame.

Chapter under the cut.

Tag list: @dreamer-in-sleep and @i-eat-worlds @themorguepoet @abstractmarshmallow

Please DM/ask/comment if you want to be added to/removed from my tag list.

“Adrian! Breakfast is ready, dearheart.” Alazne loves this everyday routine, little moments that have hardly changed over the years.

Familiar footsteps patter in the short corridor between their bedrooms and the kitchen. “Just a minute, mama.” He comes into view, curls already defying the combed order they were set in, slinging his stethoscope casually around his throat as he walks.

She sits as he does, his hand automatically reaching for the steaming cup of Boost. One of his little quirks, that he never grew out of the malt based drinks of childhood. “Mmm. Perfect as usual, mama.” She laughs. “Never going to grow up, are you?” He grins back. “You like me the way I am.” “Touché.”

He sobers up then, looking seriously at her. “We have another ophthalmologist appointment today evening. I’ll pick you up, we should be careful with your vision being what it is.” She rolls her eyes. “And there we go, Dr. Everheart is here. You worry too much.” “Mama, there is no harm in being careful. I’ve seen patients suffer quite a bit because they were careless.” He sighs. “I should meet Miss Elaine today, Dr. Sinclair said that her mother is deteriorating…” “and I am not your patient, Dr. Everheart. You’ll have to settle for being my son. You are not taking away my independence just because some patient of yours is struggling. I will not stand for it.”

He is silent for a moment, before he nods. “You’re right. Forgive me, mama. I tend to be rather overprotective because of what I see often at work.” “I know, kiddo. I’ll meet you at the hospital, after your work. We’ll go together for the appointment. Sounds good?” “Yeah.” He looks at his watch. “And that’s my cue, mama, see you later!” He rises and sprints out, waving at her. She smiles with a shake of her head. Her protective little boy.

“Dr. Everheart will see you now, ma’am.” Elaine rises, barely holding back a sigh. Delegated to yet another doctor, are we? I’ll have to start from the beginning, all over again.

She is pleasantly surprised when she walks inside the doctor’s office. A dusky young man rises with a smile as she enters. “Hello, miss Elaine. I imagine that you’d be quite frustrated by this frequent switching, but rest assured, I’ll be handling your mother’s case for the foreseeable future. I hope you don’t mind that I familiarised myself with your mother’s history.” She stares at him for a moment, having expected quite the colder welcome. “Familiarised how?” is all she manages to ask, at a loss how to respond.

Dr. Everheart is happy to answer. “I am Dr. Sinclair’s student. I went over his rendition of her history, although, if you wish to say it in your own words again, I will defer to that.” He shoots her a crinkle-eyed grin. “I supposed you would not want to go through the whole process again, though.” The spark of mischief in his eyes makes her grin, too. “You supposed right, Dr. Everheart.”

“Alright. I’m glad I did, then.” He pauses. “I’ll go through what I feel is the crux of your difficulties caring for Ms. Ariadne, okay? Please feel free to correct me if you wish.” She nods. “Okay. I think that, a major issue you might be facing is that she may be frustrated and, for the lack of a better word, acting out at what is a genuine attempt to take care of her. You might feel overwhelmed and may lose your temper as well.”

This time, when he looks at her, his voice is lower, softer. “Let me start out by saying something very simple. You are not a bad daughter for losing control sometimes. All we can do is try. We make mistakes, and that’s alright.”

Elaine is startled herself by the tears that rise at his gentle affirmation. He puts a hand on her shoulder for a long moment, then quietly steps aside, handing her tissues one after another. When she is sniffling out the last of her tears, managing to mumble out her thanks, he, gentle still, stops her halting attempts. “This is what I am here for. My job is to not only take care of your mother’s needs, but also to provide support to you. I will look for more concrete support options if you wish, but until we find one, my door is open for you.”

“…You’re quite different from the doctors I usually meet, Dr. Everheart.” He laughs. “Believe me, I have been told that a few times.” “With good reason.” “Thank you. Do you need a minute, or shall we go on?” “No, I am already taking up a lot of your time, do go on.” “That’s alright. That is, as I said, what I am here for. Moving on. When you interact with someone who has dementia, you both look at things differently, naturally. We all have our perspectives, obviously. The problem is that for those of us who do not have dementia, it is difficult to grasp their difficulties. They may not be able to verbalise it well.” “Yes, mom struggles with speaking, a lot.” “Which is understandable. That is why, as her doctor, I tried going closer to the source.” “I am afraid I do not understand your meaning, doctor.” Closer to the source? Mom can barely speak, and he’s never met her.

“I read books that people with dementia have written about the disease. If you wish, I can send you those books. If it is too close for comfort, that’s fine as well. I have taken some notes from whatever I have read till now, I’ll share those with you instead, and you can ask me whatever doubts you have.”

She knows she is staring at him again. “You sure do your homework, doctor.” “I try,” he answers simply. “Do you want the books, though, or my notes?” She swallows. “Your notes, if that’s alright, doctor.” “Sure.” In a minute, he quickly AirDrops a handwritten note.

As she reads the short bullet points, there is a knock on the door.

“Yes?” asks Dr. Everheart. “You’re needed slightly urgently, sir. There seems to be a lost and confused patient who came alone for an appointment.” He rises immediately, the door half-opened before he realises she is still in the office. “Oh.” He breathes. “I’ll come along for a bit of the way, doctor, if you don’t mind? I have a few questions.” He nods. “That’s fine,” he says, “if you don’t mind my distraction.” “Not at all.” He nods once more. “Alright.”

He sets off at a fast walk, turning to the staff member who had come. “Details about the patient?” he asks. The lady takes a moment to think.

Elaine takes the moment to speak. “Would you meet mom once? I want to discuss some interventions with her present.” He’s nodding before she finishes her sentence. “I wanted to meet”-

The other lady interrupts him. “Probably early sixties, slightly confused, but otherwise oriented. She has an unusual name. Something like Alayne.” “Alayne? Did she tell you why she’s alone? We specify that all patients should have someone with them.” “Oh, she said her son would meet her here, but she’s forgotten his cell number.” The doctor frowns. “He is probably her emergency contact, you could try her phone.” “She’s left it at home. Oh! Her name is not Alayne. It’s Alazne.”

His eyes blowing wide, barely whispering a hoarse “no…” Dr. Adrian Everheart takes off at a run. Elaine, confused, turns to the lady next to her. “Is the woman his patient?” The other woman shakes her head. “Not that I know of.”

Concerned for the young man who has shown her genuine concern for the first time in what felt like years, she follows quietly.

He’s not hard to follow, although she, too, has to run. People automatically make a way for him, the young man who seems like he is barely able to breathe.

As he skids his way to the emergency front desk, she can clearly hear a woman’s voice. “No, he wouldn’t do that on purpose. Addy is probably just busy, he’ll come. I’m fine, just a little out of place. Please don’t call him, my son is quite the worrier on a good day. I can wait.” So she has a concerned son. Why would he let her come alone though?

Dr. Everheart abruptly stops at the desk, nearly falling. “Oh, sir, it’s not that urgent of an emergency.” He shakes his head, his breaths hardly more than gasps. “Where’s mama?” he asks breathlessly.

Oh. Oh, Lord. Elaine ducks back quietly, but she can clearly hear the receptionist ask “Dr. Everheart? Mama?”

“Addy! Here you are! Oh, you’ve got him all worried, see?” the lady exclaims, chiding the staff. “I told you, Addy wouldn’t just leave me alone.” Her son runs to her, hugging her tight, and Elaine cannot look away.

“Oh, Addy. It’s alright, dearheart, I’m fine. Don’t worry, I’m just a bit forgetful these days. There, kiddo, it’s alright.” He says nothing for a moment, but she can see his face. In that moment, all she can think is that if utter devastation had an accurate representation, it would be the look on the young doctor’s face.

“Here I am,” he echoes, voice husky. “Of course you are. How was your day?” Still holding his mother in an embrace, his chin on her head, her son’s throat clicks in a harsh swallow, lashes rapidly blinking away the sheen in his eyes.

“Good,” he says softly. “My day was good. Shall we go to your appointment? I think we need to talk to Dr. Sinclair.” “I defer to your experience here, dearheart. You know what to do.” “I am sorry, mama, I should have taken better care of you, been in control of this situation, I’m sorry I didn’t do that.” His voice echoes in her mind, gentle and soft, as opposed to husky and contrite. You are not a bad daughter, for losing control sometimes.

And Elaine can look no more.

[thethingything]

also shoutout to the hospital for sending us a bunch of PDFs with information about preparing for surgery and what to expect, except the information was all generic stuff where most of it does't actually apply to wisdom tooth removal, so I had a huge panic attack where I nearly threw up because a bunch of the stuff mentioned in there is extremely triggering for us, only to then find out that stuff literally doesn't apply anyway, but now I feel like I have even less of an idea of what to actually expect because it's so hard to figure out which information does apply

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - mentions of kidnapping/imprisonment, implied alcohol consumption, and reader referred to as 'mother'/'mom' but otherwise gender-neutral.

You let yourself into Arlecchino’s study exactly four strokes after midnight. Even from the doorway, she could see the crimson stain of wine on your lips, the tell-tale lilt to your posture. Clearly, your chosen habitat that night had been the House of the Hearth’s wine cellar – a not completely unusual pastime of yours, on its own. The fact that you were coming to her after drinking your fill was more notable.

She allowed you to stumble from the doorway to her desk before ever glancing up from the correspondence she was attempting to will herself to finish. Whichever one of her vintages you’d favored, it must’ve given you the strength to withstand the weight of the gaze you were always so quick to shy away from, the courage to all-but lay yourself across the crowded tabletop. Despite your new dauntlessness, your expression was sullen, your eyes glassy with tears yet to flow over. It was a face she was used to seeing in the confines of her chambers, or better yet, on the edge of her knee as she kept you perched in her lap through an otherwise dull meeting. Familiarity alone might’ve been enough to soften her, had she had any idea as to the source of your apparent distress.

 You didn’t speak until you were settled. Arlecchino remained patient, limiting herself to a slight smile and the melodic drumming of pointed nails against polished mahogany. “Peruere,” you drawled, her given name a honey-sweet slur on your tongue. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“I see.” It took every ounce of her impressive self-restraint not to laugh aloud. “What a shame. Remind me exactly what it is we can’t do, love?”

“I can’t do this.” You gave a sweeping gesture, nearly violent enough to knock yourself off-balance. “It’s not you—I mean, it is you, with the kidnapping and imprisonment and all, but aside from that, I just—” A deep, shuddering breath, followed shortly by a pitchy, almost keening noise. “I’m just not ready to be a mother.”

This time, Arlecchino couldn’t stop herself – a single, breathy chuckle slipping past her lips. Your frowned deepened, and she did her best to sober quickly. “I’m sorry, I—” She steepled her fingers in front of her, leaning forward to rest her chin on the point of intersection. “I suppose I wasn’t aware you were going to be.”

If you heard, you clearly weren’t listening. Rather unceremoniously, the glass splintered; your thin veneer of composure falling away as the first tear broke free, shortly followed by a second, then a third. She lost count somewhere around the dozenth. “It’s not that I don’t love your children,” you started, your voice cracking as you struggled to wipe at your eyes between words. “I mean, I love them all in spite of them being yours, which is actually really impressive because I find you so unbearably off-putting to be around, but— I’m sorry, I’m just not ready for this level of responsibility. There’s… how many? Fifty of them? Two hundred?”

“My love.” She pushed herself to her feet, dulling her voice into the softest, smoothest possible coo. “Isn’t it about time for you to retire for the night?”

“How could you possibly want to go to sleep at a time like this?” You were sobbing now, rather unabashedly. All attempts to maintain your dignity had been laid aside in favor of burying your face in your palms and hanging your head almost pitifully low. “I have five hundred kids to take care of!”

Whether you were too distracted to notice her arms wrapping around you or simply too panicked to care, it would’ve been impossible to say. You failed to protest as she pulled you against her chest, only sniffling miserably and burying your face in her coat. “You seem to have forgotten that ‘Father’ is only a title,” she murmured as gently as she could, letting her lips brush against the top of your head, then your tear-stained cheek. “Most of my children have already grown out of the need for a true mother and father, and I doubt those who haven’t view either of us in a very paternal light. Do you understand?”

There was a delay, but she felt you nod against her chest. Arlecchino could only sigh, already moving to exit her study. “Let’s get you to bed, dear.”

~

You were still unconscious by the time she rose the next morning, no doubt putting off the inevitable hangover. She left you where you lied and, after making sure a pitcher of water would be waiting for you when you woke up, went about her obligations.

It was only a few hours later that, during a conversation with Lyney, he seemed to pause, to glance to either side. Whatever he’d planned to say was quickly forgotten in favor of a new tangent. “I don’t think I’ve seen mom yet, today.”

At that, Arlecchino perked up. “Mom?”

He caught himself quickly, straightening. “Mother, I mean. (Y/n). My apologies, Lynette's disregard must be rubbing off on me.”

She took a moment to purse her lips, to do what she often did best and consider the information that’d been laid at her feet. “Lyney,” she said, eventually, when she’d made up her mind.

“Next time you use that name, make sure your mother is within earshot.”

[n0cturnalflesh]

The One Where Sylus Turns Into A Wanderer

Synopsis: Sylus gets hit with an attack that not only turns him into a wanderer but also makes him really horny??? Oh nooo what will you do? (wink wink nudge nudge)

Characters: Sylus x Reader

tw: Dragon Sylus, smut, p in v, breeding kink, praise, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, oral, tentacles

wc: 8.3 k

A/N: I'm a BIG fan of the theory(is it confirmed?) that Sylus is/was a wanderer at one point but I wanna see more content of him looking kinda scary. Love the idea of Sylus with cute horns and a tail but I'm thinking more like the wanderers we fight in deepspace trials - big, scaly monsters that barely look human. (I’m not not even a Sylus main lol sorry Zayne but duty calls)

“It recovered. Be careful.” Sylus charges forward, his evol twisting the wyrmlord wanderer and redirecting its fiery assault just out of the way from hitting you. 

“I know, I know.” Your voice comes out hoarse, throat parched from the hour-long battle against a horde of mechanically enhanced Wanderers—an unwelcome gift from one of Sylus’ enemies. It wasn’t anything the two of you couldn't handle, but their durability in the field was at least 4 times that of regular wanderers. This was an endurance test.

“This better be the last one.” You grumble, Harrier 700s aimed at its maws as you dump Evol-enhanced bullets into its rocky flesh.

“It is.” Sylus warps to its side, taking a vicious hit before striking back just as hard. “Look at the fluctuations around it, they’re weakening. Anything that might come after this will likely be too weak to stand. This is their last card.”

It’s true, now that you take a closer look; the translucent shimmer that had been protecting every wanderer before this is now no more than a simple sparkle. Cocking your gun in your hand, you level the barrel to its heart, giving a brief glance to Sylus. 

“Let’s finish this.”

Blood-red swirls of energy coil around your hands, leaving little tingles on your knuckles as the cold mist kisses your knuckles. With each shot fired, a shard of energy follows the bullet, driving it deeper into the Wrmylord. Sylus stays close to the beast, striking each bullet wound as his evol amplifies the force of your resonate-enhanced attacks. A powerful gust from its panicked wings nearly knocks you off balance, but you hold firm, standing against the wind. Your hair slaps across your face, nearly covering your vision but the red energy around your hands helps keep your aim. It’s almost dead— it has to be.

With each bullet, the wanderer staggers; each punch leaving it closer to the ground in defeat until the final shimmer of its enhanced defense shatters.

“Now!” You yell as you close in the distance, running until you’re side by side with Sylus. His evol energy swirls begin to coil stronger, wrapping around your entire body before channeling directly into your gun. With the dragon in your sights, gun up and facing its weakened body, you pull the trigger. At the same moment, Sylus charges forward, winding up his final strike and landing a crushing blow where your bullet landed.

The wyrmlord lets out a final, piercing scream before collapsing to the ground. 

“Damn, I don’t want to see another wanderer for at least a month. Maybe more. Thoughts on a mini vacation Sylus?” You ask, wiping off your gun as you place it back in its holster on your waist.

A few seconds of silence go by. With no response from Sylus, you glance up from your holster just as it all goes wrong. A vibration on your wrist draws your attention, red letters glowing above your watch that read “Extreme Fluctuation - Evacuate Vicinity Immediately”. A low grumble shakes the ground, the sound echoing through the ground and reverberating so powerfully that you feel it rumble in your chest. Before you can react, a blinding flash of energy fills your vision. 

“Fuck off!” You shake your head and reach for your gun, squinting against the brilliance but all you can make out are the wyrmlord’s glowing crooked eyes peering through the glare. 

“Get back!” Sylus’ low voice cuts through the rumbling, and in an instant he’s standing in front of you, shielding you just as the light directs into a beam and strikes his chest. The moment it hits, everything stops. The beast collapses on the ground, its limbs going limp as dust creeps up its disintegrating form until nothing remains. 

“Sylus!” Your voice breaks the silence, hands pressing against his sturdy shoulders until he turns to face you. “Are you alright?”

Despite the attack, he appears none the worse for wear, aside from tired and dirty from the battleground dust. His eyes are downcast, staring at his chest where the beam hit. 

“Yes, I’m fine kitten. Must’ve died just before the beam could hit me.”

“Are you sure?” Worry laces your voice, “I could’ve sworn I watched that weird beam hit your chest.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Your eyes must be deceiving you. You should head on home quickly, book that vacation on my card. I’ll…” he trails off, looking back to where the wyrmlord disintegrated. “Stay behind to make sure no other wanderers come.”

Sylus’ eyes narrow as he looks around, his tone low and calculated. He shifts from foot to foot, unusually stiff as you notice the way he draws his shoulders in stiffly. 

“Sylus?”

He bows his head down, turning to face away from you. 

“Sylus, that beam did something to you didn’t it?”

An audible sigh escapes him, his breath slow yet his upper torso rises rapidly like its breathing entirely separate from his breaths. 

“It… did. But it’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t you worry about me. Just leave me to deal with this on my own, you should go rest.”

He stands awkwardly, posture just a bit too stiff - like he doesn’t quite know how to hold his limbs. You lean towards him, eye glancing over his body to check for hidden injuries or changes. There has to be something, he wouldn’t be sending you off so easily if there wasn’t. 

“Sylus, I’m not just going to leave because you said so. I’m a top hunter, why don’t you think I can help you?” You take a step forward, hoping for a closer inspection but he takes a step back as you do, keeping his face turned away.

“Excuse me?” Betrayal strikes you; how dare he go through months of coaxing and bonding just to leave you when he finally needs help for once? “Look at me.” You speak firmly, snatching his wrist so he can’t flee.

His body tenses at your touch, a quiet gasp escaping his lips. He could pull away if he wanted, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move at all. He’s frozen still, his gaze fixed on the ground. You slide your hand down until you can squeeze his fingers; they feel unusually cold at the tips yet hot toward his palm.

Following the heat of his palm, your fingers trace back up his wrist, gliding along his forearm until they reach the edge of his sleeve. A wave of warmth pulses beneath his skin, following his veins, though the surface remains cold to the touch. 

“Kitten,” His voice draws out low and raspy, leveled like he’s holding his composure just to talk. “Please, let me deal with this on my own. You don’t need to see this.”

Testing the waters, you caress over his chest and up until you hold his chin in your palm. He resists only for a moment as you tilt his head until his vibrant, glowing red eyes face you, laced with evol.

With brows drawn and tense, he shutters under your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzles deeper into your palm. For a moment, he seeks comfort there, but he pulls away sharply as if your touch suddenly stings. His eyes reek of evol, the glowing red so bright that it becomes hard to see his pupils. Yet the sensation of his evol never comes. You don’t feel that deep pull from within; don’t hear the voices of your deepest desires. 

“Whatever that wanderer did to you, I won’t let you suffer alone. We’re in this together.”

He stares back, almost animalistic in nature, like he’s calculating how to react to your next move. His drastic change in personality becomes increasingly unsettling.

“Why are your eyes glowing like that? I don’t feel your evol.” You question, hoping a direct question might be an easier approach.

It seems to work, his gaze refocusing on you as he blinks a few times.

“It is…” he lowers his head, avoiding eye contact as he speaks, “returning me to a form I had hoped you’d never see in this lifetime.” Running a hand through his hair, he tilts his head up to look at the night sky, worries etched onto his face. The light of the moon shines on his pale skin and you can see a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead as he pushes his hair back.

“What does that mean?” Hundreds of questions pop into your head but that’s the one that comes out first before you can even think harder about what he said. A form? Form of what?

Sylus hums, voice uneven and hoarse as he keeps his head turned towards the stars. “Some time ago, which does not matter when, I was something else. Not… entirely as I am today.” He keeps his head tilted but lowers his glowing eyes to meet yours. “I’d since been able to restrict it, but it seems as though that wanderer’s attack was able to affect it.”

You stand your ground, holding eye contact. That’s not a complete answer, and he knows that. You stare back, not moving as he awaits a reaction that you won’t give him.

“I’ve never wanted it to come to this, because I know you won’t leave my side no matter what I say.” He continues, sad gratitude flashing on his expression for a moment, “You really won’t leave me to deal with this, will you?”

He’s not making sense. His words have told you nothing of the situation or his weird behavior. But raising your voice or pressing him further might escalate his behavior. Your heart aches at the thought of whatever is going through his mind as he loses his collected mannerism. He has done so much for you these past few months; proven your opinion of him wrong from the start and treated you so well. You will not let him be alone for this, whatever it is.

“No, I won’t.” You reply firmly.

“You never do.” He sighs, before doubling over to pull his arm close to his chest, hiding the skin from your touch.

“Sylus!” You cry out, taking a step towards him but he moves away as you come close.

“No.” His tone comes out calm despite the strain in his voice, “Don’t get close, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, Sylus.” You pause, observing the way he carries his limbs in towards himself like he’s trying to make himself look small. An impossible feat for such a large man. “I know you won’t because I know you would never dare to hurt me. I don’t know what you’re talking about or what you mean by this ‘form’ you’re reverting to, but I know that if it is still you at the core, you will not hurt me.” 

It’s a lie. Sylus is a very scary man if you don’t know him well. Whatever he’s talking about clearly has him worried about hurting you, and if that’s something he’s concerned about, it absolutely gives you every reason to be alarmed. But you can’t just admit that. Not after everything he’s done for you —risking his life, taking hits meant for you, following you on pointless expeditions that far exceed the duties of the N109 Zone leader, even letting you hurt him. No, it’s your turn to take a risk for him. Prove to him that you trust him wholeheartedly.

Assuming a (hopefully) confident-looking stance, you hold eye contact with him and take a step forward, leaving no room for debate as you press into his personal space. He gasps at your touch, eyes glued to where your hand grabs at his arm. 

“Please,” He grunts, “be careful. I don’t want to hurt you. Not…” His voice trails off just as you make contact with his skin. But it’s not skin. It's hard, rocky almost in texture but still molds to your touch as you squeeze it. 

Not ready to look down, you raise your other hand up and cradle his cheek. “It’s okay.” Your voice comes out as a hushed whisper, and finally, you look down.

His arm below the elbow and hand are not human. The skin is jagged, flesh turned black and grey while red light seeps out from the lines of his veins. His fingers are longer than they should be, joints extended and bony as they lead to talons at the tips. These are the hands of a wanderer.

“Sylus, your form? A wanderer?” The look of raw insecurity in his eyes stops you from questioning. With his brows knitted and eyes glistening, his lips tremble slightly, parted as if struggling to form words. His chest rises and falls with shallow, uneven breaths. He looks like he’s seconds away from breaking down.

“So you’ve figured it out, Miss Hunter.” He speaks, emphasizing the nickname like he’s pointing out how your job is sworn to killing monsters like him. He’s spiraling, slight tension tugging through his body like he wants to break away from you but doesn’t want you to leave him at the same time. You need to show him that you’ll remain ever at his side.

“This doesn’t change my statement, I won’t let you go about this alone.”

He lets out a small laugh, although there’s no humor or joy behind it. “I appreciate your help, but you don’t deserve to have to be exposed to this side of me. You've seen enough wanderers to last you at least 5 missions in the last few hours alone. You said it yourself, you need a vacation away from us horrid monsters.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because that wasn't you! You’re not just some beast that runs wild! Regardless of your form, there’s a ‘you’ deep inside. If you lose control, I’ll be here to make sure you don’t get caught. If anyone finds you, I’ll make sure they don't hurt you.”

“And if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.” Staring into his glowing eyes, you stand your ground. He needs to know this is a hill you’re willing to die on. “Listen, I don’t understand any of what’s going on, and you will explain everything to me when the time is right. But please, just shut up and let me be here for you.”

His jaw tightens before relaxing into a sigh. You run your fingers up and down his hardened palm, hoping to reassure him that this change does not change how you view him. 

“If you won’t leave me, you should at least distance yourself from me. At least for the time being. I don’t if the attack has altered my state of mind.”

“Alright.” You give his hand a light squeeze, rubbing your thumb against his knuckles before turning to retreat to a nearby tree. Only he doesn't let you. As you turn to leave, rough talons grasp onto your wrist. He pulls you close to him, your back pressing up against his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. They feel… different. 

The rough, rocky texture has continued up his forearms. He’s hidden from your line of view, only his arms visible as they wrap your torso. 

“Sylus?”  Your voice trembles with uncertainty, but the only response is a low, guttural growl from behind you. In the stillness that follows, you notice the next sudden change; he’s growing. His hands, already massive compared to yours, now seem to dwarf you entirely.  As he splays his left hand across your abdomen, his claws extend effortlessly to the back of your torso. His palm alone envelops your entire stomach.

The sharp rip of fabric echoes from somewhere along his back, followed by the rush of warm, heavy breaths against your neck—slowly, far too slow for any human. Wrapping your fingers around just one of his now enormous claws, you strain to fully grip it, prying his hand away with deliberate caution.

“I’m going to turn around now. And then you can tell me if you still want me to distance myself, okay?”

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn’t stop you from pulling out of his grasp. Gently, you free yourself from his hold. Drawing a deep breath, you prepare for what awaits. If he truly is a wanderer, is this his true form?

As you turn, there’s a deep, resounding thud—Sylus stepping back, perhaps anxious for you to see him like this. Finally, in the pregnant silence, you open your eyes.

He’s… gigantic. Towering close to nine feet tall, his presence is overwhelming. At first glance, not much seems to have changed—his face, his torso, still familiar; aside from the darkened, rocky skin leading from his hands and now his feet upwards. Through the tears of clothing struggling to hang off his growing body,  the skin beneath remains a softer hue, though roughened, textured like stone.

Your gaze travels upward, from his exposed chest, straining beneath shredded buttons, to his face. Aside from the glowing red eyes and his change in size, the only new and noticeable changes are the two massive horns shooting out from behind his ears. —black as night, laced with swirling red energy tapering into sharp white tips. They curl around his face gracefully, flaring outward before narrowing into points that end near his chin. For such a beastly figure to cower, avoiding your eyes, almost elicits a strange tenderness—were it not for the seriousness of the moment. 

“I’m not afraid of you.” You murmur, stepping closer and offering your hand. He doesn't take it, but he doesn’t pull away, allowing the space between you to close.

When he speaks, his voice is even deeper than normal, rasping out hollow as though unused to forming words in this form. “I’m holding back... slowing the transformation.” His eyes shut, pained. “But the attack... it may have triggered some... side effects.”

He kneels down until he’s level with you, large eyes roaming over you like he needs to memorize your body. “I wanted this to be different. You deserve better—dinner, gifts, a proper evening to show you how much I—”

“Stop deciding for me.” You cut him off. “You’re not making sense. What side effects? What dinner? What’s happening?”

His chest rises and falls heavily, beads of sweat forming along his brow.  “I need you.”

“You have me.” you reply. He lets out a shaky breath, gaze slipping from your face to your body, over every curve you have and back up. He looks back to your face with a carnal, unrestrained desire.“No. I need you in ways that I should not take from you. I can endure this.” He groans. The side effect he mentioned is starting to make sense – an aphrodisiac. 

But it doesn’t shake you. Stolen evenings and unexpected gifts, whispered messages between meetings and surprise plushies left just for you—this isn’t for nothing. You want him. You want to be the one who helps him.

“And I’m saying you have me.” you whisper, “however you need me.”

In an instant, he surges forward, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss, nearly knocking you off balance. His claws steady you, holding you close as heat floods through you, every nerve alive under his touch. This wasn’t what you expected, but the rush is undeniable. After weeks of tension, playful flirtation, and stolen moments, you undeniably want this. The circumstances don’t change the feelings that you’ve harbored for him.

His pace is feverish, lips crashing against yours with a desperation that steals your breath. With inhumane sharp teeth, he pulls at your bottom lip before releasing, his tongue brushes lightly over your mouth, hesitant, seeking.

Your hands, trembling slightly, move to his jaw before drifting upward, fingers curling around his horns. The moment you tug gently, his breath hitches, a low gasp escaping him. His control slips further, the weight of his form heavy in the air between you as he slowly pulls away, panting, eyes squeezed shut. His hands, shaking, rest on your waist, still fighting against the wildness threatening to consume him.

“Sylus, it's ok. You can let go, show me your true form.”

He rests his head on your shoulder, face buried in the curve of your neck as he lets out a hushed groan, panting heavily as you feel his weight around you.

“Ok, my love.” He whispers, voice trembling, giving you no time to respond before his body begins to shift. The sound of bones cracking reverberates through the space, jarring and raw. He cups your chin gently, pulling your face to his, and kisses you deeply. Your eyes flutter shut as you cradle his tear-streaked cheeks in your palms, the damp warmth of his tears smearing against your skin. Whether he’s trying to distract you from his changing body or himself from the pain, you can’t be sure—but you return the kiss with equal passion, willing the world outside to fade away.

The sounds of his transformation— clothes ripping, bones snapping, joints realigning—begin to echo about louder and louder. Yet you ignore them, clinging to the heat between your lips, in hopes that the connection you share distracts him from the painful shift. After what feels like a small eternity, you pull away slowly, lips tingling from the heat of his breath. Steadying yourself, you take a step back, ready to take in all that he has become. 

Words cannot do justice to his new form. You stare in awe, committing his new body to your memory as he stands completely bare in front of you. Before you stands no trace of the human you once knew—only a towering, fearsome beast, the living embodiment of draconic ferocity. His body is a fusion of taut muscle and hardened scales, rippling with untamed power. Long, white hair cascades down his back, swaying like a mane as it frames his draconic face, a mix of humanoid and bestial features. His maw, lined with razor-sharp fangs, juts forward like that of a great dragon, yet his eyes still carry the familiar glint of Sylus—recognizable, despite the terrifying transformation.

His legs are thick and clawed like that of an animal, hoisting his massive form even higher above you. While he moves with the mannerisms of a bipedal creature, this is no man—this is something far more primal, more dangerous. Behind him, a long, jagged tail swings low, its blade-like ridges sharp and lethal. Higher up, leathery-red wings point upwards and wrap around his waist, covering himself up as modestly as he can. The horns that once subtly adorned his head have grown monstrously large, curling menacingly around his skull, nearly outsizing his monstrous, animalistic visage. His arms, though almost human in form, are colossal—each muscle encased in a thick, armor-like scale, protruding with strength at every joint as they swirl around his chest, where the beating thump of his heart stands out.

He is immense; a creature of both beauty and terror, and you can't help but feel both in awe and mesmerized in his presence.

You must look off-put, as Sylus bows his head, once more avoiding eye contact. Before he can move away, you take the initiative to reach out and grab his hand. Your fingers barely make a dent in his thick flesh, but still, you tug him towards yourself hoping he’ll understand the motive. 

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, voice quiet as you reach your hand out for his face. He takes the hint, hesitantly stepping forward with a loud thud that shakes the ground nearby, bending down to place his jagged jaw into your hand lightly. 

“Don’t,” His voice comes out with a groggy, half-growl tone, “Lie.” He finishes. Each word seems to have winded him, sighs escaping through sharp talons.

“I’m not.” You answer, and before he can protest, you push your lips against what would be his lips in this new form. It’s awkward, your lips barely covering a quarter the size of his mouth, his large teeth pushing up against your mouth as you try to kiss him. But awkward as it is, he returns the passion as delicately as he can. 

“I still want you Sylus, like this, or in any form. You have me.”

He must finally give in to his desires, ignoring whatever reservations were holding him back as he realizes your devotion to him.  He takes your body in his giant hands, cradling you gently as he lifts you up so he can stand at full height. As you sit like a pretty doll in his palms, nearly 9 feet above the ground, he brings his head close to yours until his forehead and horns rest against your head. 

“Thank you.” He growls through softly bared fangs, “But… don’t know how much you can help me…” he trails off, “ like this. Don’t want to.. to hurt you.” 

As he leans away from you, a brief flicker of his eyes downwards gives him away. You shift a little in his grasp, hoping to peer down at one body part of his you hadn’t considered might also change. 

“Are you certain…want to see all of me?” Sylus nuzzles his sharp snout into your neck, subtly preventing you from looking further. 

“If it will help you, then of course. I know this isn’t how you wanted things to play out, but under different circumstances, I would still want to see all of you.”

Sylus lets you squirm out of his firm hold on you, allowing you to look past his scaled rocky chest and down to where the red tapered tip of his cock rests against his torso. And it's thick. The tip alone must be fatter than your fist. You can’t see beyond the tip from the angle you’re being held at but if it reaches this high up his body, it must be massive. Maybe you can’t help him the way he needs. 

The expression on your face must give away your shock at his size, as Sylus looks down to his cock and back up to your face, awaiting a reaction. 

“What exactly do you need from me to help you?” You ask hesitantly, gauging the severity of his need to fuck you. 

Sylus groans at your questions, low and deep, hips bucking forward like the mere thought of what you’re offering makes him throb. As he leans back to rest on a nearby tree, his hands tighten around your waist, just slightly, as he responds. 

“Need to fuck you,” he huffs, “To eat you,” he presses his face against your neck, “to breed you,”, saliva drips down from his scaly maw, landing hot and wet as it slides down the front of your shirt. “Mine.” 

“Mmph.” You moan, a warm wetness beginning to form between your legs at his words. “I’m not sure if you’ll fit, but we can try. Whatever will help you.” Your voice is flakey, shaking with each breath as you try to contain your arousal.

“Will fit,” he licks at your neck, right where your pulse is, “spit will help, will numb, stretch.” As he slides his tongue up, the sheer size of it alarms you and reminds you of how much bigger he is. Its heavy weight feels like a compression around you as it wraps once around your throat. The tip of it drags across your chin, soaking your face in his wetness, stopping before your lips, awaiting your approval. 

As he holds you so close to him, his hands the only thing supporting your body as his mouth pants at your chest, you give in. Accepting that whatever will come, Sylus will not hurt you. 

Opening your mouth, his tongue pushes in, stretching your jaw slightly before it flattens to fit better. Even with only the tip of it in, you’re overwhelmed as it thrashes around your cheeks, saliva beginning to drip down all around your face. 

Yet as it continues, as his tongue soaks your neck and fills your mouth, pleasure begins to stir within you. As his sharp talons hold you above his head, you start to crave more. As his scaly snout pokes into your chest, the feeling of being overwhelmed dissipates. The weight of his touch lightens. The awkward wetness feels comforting. 

And your arousal heightens. The fear that has been holding you back from fully indulging in him is gone, replaced by a carnal need to be used by him. Without even realizing it, you’ve gathered his heavy head in your hands, his tongue almost entirely down your throat as you swallow around it with ease. Face to face with his heavy maw, you finally let loose and moan into his mouth.

He pulls back slowly, unwinding his tongue from its place down your throat. He growls, keeping you eye to eye with him. “Ready?”

Jaw still sore, soaked from spit, you nod dumbly.

“Good.”  And as soon as the words escape his mouth he’s using a claw to rip apart your clothes, just barely leaving a mark on your skin as your tattered outfit falls to the ground. The cool air hits your body hard, nipples hardening in the wind as the saliva dries quickly. You tremble in his hands, partially due to the wind, and partially due to the way your body is out on display for him; the first time he’s seen you naked.

Any insecurities you may have had begin to melt away as he stares at you like he holds the world in his hands. “Beautiful.” He groans, gently caressing your skin with his claws. Despite his beastly exterior, he cradles you as though you are his most treasured possession.

Your skin is taut under his grasp as Sylus lifts you higher until you’re above his head. Staring directly at your exposed cunt, he clasps his maw against it before you can even blush at his forwardness. Gasping at his reaction, every touch seems to set your body aflame with desire. As his scaled lips touch your pelvis, his tongue begins to swirl around your pussy.

“Divine.” He croaks, words muffled by your wetness between his lips. He drags his tongue between your folds once more before diving deeper, the tip poking at your entrance. As his saliva mixes with your slick, your desire heightens. You need him in you now.

“Please, Sylus, fuck me already.”

His eyes snap from their view of where his tongue plays with your entrance, slit pupils dilating as he makes eye contact with you. He takes a deep breath in, then plunges his tongue deep inside.

The sensation is immediate, pleasure taking over your body as his self-lubricated muscle pumps into you, poking around at your gummy walls like it’s looking for room. No, like it’s making room. It’s almost terrifying, watching as his long and thick tongue penetrates deeper and deeper. It shouldn’t fit, but somehow, inch after inch it disappears further until you’re sat entirely on his sharp face.

 His hands hold your body up in the air as he tilts his head back to keep you in an upright position. Your feet, dangling on either side of his head, wrap around his horns to use as some kind of leverage to contrast the penetrating feeling of his tongue pushing against your cervix. “Mmm, Sy-!” You whine, his name the only word you can form as he pumps into you repeatedly. The coiling of his tongue pushes against all your inner walls, all the hidden spots you didn't know could be touched.

His fingers shift, one hand sliding slightly upwards, unintentionally grasping your loose tits between them, while the other wraps lower around your ass. It gives you a better view of his face - and the bulge protruding from your lower stomach every time his tongue flicks forward.

Sylus must catch your gaze, as he withdraws his tongue slowly until just the tip is inside, and he pushes on the bulged area, distending it to lengths that must made possible with the use of his aphrodisiac-like saliva. It hurts, but it hurts good. 

 “Carvin’ out my place in you.” He slurs as best he can without proper use of his tongue. He gives one last squeeze to your breasts, before withdrawing until he’s back to holding you up at chest height to him - still at least 9 feet above the ground.

“Ready?” he pants, “Sweetie?”

Missing the feeling of being filled already, you nod rapidly. Sylus smiles, scales glistening in his smirk, and then lowers himself until he’s lying on his back, keeping your body close to his chest. Feeling the base of his heavy cock rest on your ass is enough to get your body subconsciously moving, humping your hips forward helplessly, looking for any kind of stimulation. The hard texture of his skin beneath you catches against your clit. You lurch forward, hands steadying yourself on his defined abs to get yourself.

A purr-like noise radiating from beneath you causes you to open your eyes which must’ve closed in the chase for release. Sylus’ head is tilted low to watch as you use him and despite the desire in his eyes, he holds an expression that’s entirely human.

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and suddenly, the world around you seems to still. His eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and something deeper—infatuation. Relief washes over his face, softening his features as if the weight of years has been lifted in a single breath. It’s as though he’s finding solace in your acceptance of him, releasing the fears he’s long held about how you would perceive this form. He looks at you as if this moment is something he had once dared to hope for but never truly believed would come—an unspoken dream, now realized. His expression speaks of a man who has waited a lifetime for this, for you, and for the peace that comes with being seen and accepted completely.

“Sylus,” your voice comes out dripping with desire. The hardened skin beneath feels good, but you need more. There’s an aching emptiness within you, now that you’ve felt his tongue carve out a place in you. “Need you inside me. Now.”

He tosses his head back, throat exposed as he arches his back like you’re words alone pushed him closer to his release. His hands fondle your body before gently raising you up and back so you're sitting with his cock in front of you. And it is indeed massive. 

From where it rests against his stomach, you can see now why it felt so heavy when it was behind you. The base alone is almost as thick as one of your thighs. It shoots up at least a foot before tapering off to a tentacle-like tip that’s almost sized like a normal penis. 

There’s no way that’s fitting inside of you. 

“There’s no way that’s fitting inside me.”

Sylus huffs in what could be considered humour, before his expression softens. “It will… Some of it. Trust me.” He lets go of his grab on you and offers a hand. As your tiny palm slides around one of his fingers, just barely able to grasp it entirely in your hand, his wings wrap around your body like a shield of privacy. 

“Trust. Please.” His voice comes out more breathy than before, his chest rising and falling deeply with each breath. It’s then that you notice the tension in his shoulders, the way they bunch up is different than a human body but still noticeable. He must be suffering, holding himself back. 

You turn your head to the side, nose brushing against his taut wing. “Ok.” And with confidence, you lean forward and grab his cock. Holding it with both your hands, the girth is barely contained between your fingers. It’s moist all over, self-lubricating, slippery, and heavy. Sylus gasps under his breath and before your fingers can even reach the tip, he’s sliding you forward and upward. 

Hands flat against his shoulders, your face to face with him once again as he reaches to guide his cock towards your entrance. The anxiety of how he’ll fit must be evident in your face as he leans forward and licks your cheek. 

“I’m ready.” You whisper, and Sylus slowly slips his tip inside your dripping cunt.

Fitting a literal monster cock inside you is not something you can easily prepare for, mentally or physically, for that matter. But somehow, with a mix of whatever is in his saliva and his earlier ministrations, you now sit with almost half of a monster cock deep in your gut. 

The stretch of your gummy walls accommodating his girth is not as painful as you would have imagined. 

It feels like a reward, as if you’re fulfilling a purpose your body was made for.

Because it was, wasn’t it? Isn’t your body destined to take him inside you and milk it until you’re full? Weren’t you made for this? 

The feeling of his tip working its way inside you reveals a hidden will of its own, pulsing and writhing around despite Sylus not thrusting into you yet. He slowly works you down his cock until it seems you’ve hit your limit. With just barely half his length inside, your cunt split open wider than you thought possible, the thumping tip pushes out into the area he fucked open with his tongue. 

“See?” He growls. “Fits. Just need tip.” At his last word, the tip inside pokes out into your belly, a protruding bulge in your front. He takes your hand in his much large hand and pushes back against it, and you nearly cum at the sensation. Based on his reaction, he nearly does too.  

It’s becoming too much and he’s not even fucking you yet. The widening of his girth from where it sticks out of you is lined with rocky scales that hit exactly at your clit, like they were made for your pleasure. The tense bundle of nerves ache for stimulation. You squeeze your legs around the base of his cock, and slowly thrust yourself forward in hopes that he understands what you want. 

He does. Using gentle hands, he holds you up in place before slowly starting to thrust his hips upwards into you. With each movement, his cock pushes through your gut leaving you feeling stuffed and full of desire. Your legs loosen from their grip around his base and instead, hang freely below you as he uses you like a personal flesh light. 

“Fuck.” He growls, hands tightening around you like he’s using your body to keep himself alive. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck.”

You can’t reply, at least not in words. The combination of his fat girth and poking tip render you speechless aside from a few moans of pleasure. “Sy…” you attempt his name, but it’s useless. You can’t focus on anything other than the way he fucks up into you. 

“Mine. Mine.  Fuck.” He mutters under his breath, fingers finding their way to where your body holds him inside, splaying across your belly to feel the weight of his cock inside you. 

The build-up of pleasure grows and grows as he brushes his cock against your clit and insides. Your edging closer and closer to release, but just as you feel your physical pleasure start to take over your mind, everything flips. 

The mossy ground is beneath you as you’re softly placed on the ground. With Sylus still inside your pulsing cunt, he now hovers above you, thick arms holding himself up on either side of your head. His wings flap around, shielding your body beneath him. 

“Mine. No one else’s.” He shouts, not taking his eyes off you as he raises an arm and holds his hand up in a direction away from you. Between the folds of his wings, you see movement: more wanderers. A few gnaves, they’re launching in your direction but a red whirling mist surrounds them before they can reach you. 

“Mine!” Sylus screams out, sharp fangs agape as he bares his teeth in the direction of the gnaves. From his position, he starts lightly thrusting his hips forward into you. The sharp pang of pleasure as he fucks into you draws your mind away from the looming threat of wanderers. 

You close your eyes, hands out grabbing for his chest, his arms, anything to ground you. A splattering of wetness across your face forces your eyes open in shock. Sylus stares down at you, his face and yours dripping in wanderer blood. Beside you, the dead bodies of the beasts disintegrate leaving only their protocors. Sylus fucks back into you. 

“Mmmph! Fuck - M’ yours!” You scream out, pulling his horned head towards you again and diving into his mouth. His long tongue laps at your mouth in anticipation before you let it slide in and down your throat once more, the numbing of the saliva still in effect as it mixes with the blood across your face.

“Mine. Mine to protect. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed.” Sylus pants into your mouth, words obstructed by his tongue down your throat. 

“Mmhmm.” You whimper, unable to form words between the harsh fucking of his cock in you and his tongue in your mouth. 

”I’m…” he groans, “here.” He lowers a hand to your stomach, the bulge less visible than the previous position but still just as deep in you as he fucks forward. 

“My place.” The tip of his cock squirms around and fucks up into you at a pace faster than his hips, smooshing against the thing wall of skin separating it and his hand on the other side. It feels like being fucked twice, one thick and slow, stretching against your clit. The other, thin and fast, pumping around against your cervix in whatever space has been molded to take it. 

“No one else.” His gaze is animalistic, hungry, desperate. With each thrust his hardens torso twists and twitches, your tiny body beneath him rocking back and forth on the ground. It hurts, it’ll definitely leave bruises on your skin, but the pleasure overtakes you. 

He slides his tongue out of you and it slithers to wrap around your throat. He looks over you, head nearly twice as big as yours with his sharp horns dangling over either side of your face. This shouldn't be as enjoyable as it is. You should be scared. The leader of Onichynous is splitting you open on the floor of a wandered infested forest after turning into one himself. 

But the way he stares at you overrides all of those things. He looks down at you with such a longing mixture of emotions. He looks down at you like you’re the most precious and dear thing to him in the world, like he’s been waiting for this, like he needs this like he needs to breathe air. Like he can’t believe it’s finally happening. 

His red eyes widen at your eye contact as you raise a hand to rest against his scaled cheekbone.  Not entirely human. Not entirely wanderer. Completely Sylus. 

His eyes glaze over, whether from the pleasure or the intimacy of the act, you’re unsure. But it moves you to speak. “Yours. Forever.” 

That pushes him over the edge, wings flapping violently behind him, horns scraping into the dirt beneath you without care as he leans his head down beside yours. His tongue squeezes at your throat, his breath and pace quickening as he fucks sloppily into you.

“Fuc- mmph...” he stutters into your ear, trying to form words. And then he whimpers, a high-pitched, voice-cracking cry right into your ear. And then he cums. And you can feel it happen. 

You can feel a sudden warmth spread through your lower half, feel each spurt and twitch of his cock. The pressure increases as it pumps into you and pushes against your walls, making you feel even more stuffed as he stays inside you. 

It must be some kind of wanderer, monster anatomy but you can feel the base of his cock tightening as he cums. It swells and grows, pushing further up against your clit. With each twitch of his hips, the base rubs on the nerves until you finally come undone on him. 

“Fuck! Sylus! I’m-!” You cry out. 

“I know, Sweetie,” he moans, voice hoarse, “Keep cumming. For me.”

You close your eyes, whole body tensing as release tingles through your muscles like a spell. Each pulse of pleasure quivering throughout your body; a blanket of white taking over your every thought. Your legs wrap and tighten around Sylus’ waist as he rocks forward into you, slowing down with every hump as you slowly become overstimulated.

“Nnph. Sylus, too much. Can’t.” You whimper out, eyes squeezed shut as you paw at his torso to slow down.  He doesn’t reply, but his body comes to a halt until he’s still above you. His breath is warm against your chest in slow, warm puffs. Time seems to come to a stop; your body feels heavy, and your mind floating above. There’s nothing besides you, the ground beneath you, and Sylus deep inside you. 

After what feels like hours (but could very well be minutes), Sylus shifts. A sharp claw slides gently under your back, supporting your weight as it picks up you. You keep your eyes closed in a heightened state of bliss, trusting Sylus as he moves until you are chest-to-chest with him while he lays on his back. The leather blanket of his wings rests on your shoulders as they wrap around you, keeping you warm and protected from the outside world. His cock remains nestled deep inside you, your stomach feeling tender - used. As if sensing your awareness to the discomfort, Sylus runs a sharp finger down the crest of your back, humming a cracked and hoarse tune. You wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t. He just sits in the silence with you. 

With the strength of Linkon’s most powerful hunter, you lift your tired head off his chest and peer up at him to find his ruby eyes already staring back at you. He looks unsure, almost vulnerable, an expression that a giant horned wanderer shouldn’t be able to express. His hand steadies on your waist, keeping a light hold on you like he’s waiting for you to pull away.

“You mean the world to me Sylus.” You say, eyes glimmering with intent and honesty. He doesn’t respond but his chest stops rising for a moment, a baited breath like he needs a moment for the words to set in. You can see the thoughts racing in his mind as he stares back at you and for a split second, his eyes shine with unshed tears. 

He looks away before you can comment, a smile returning to his face before looking back at you with a soft gaze. “And you are my world.” He says softly. He pulls you tight to him in an embrace that feels like more than just a hug, nuzzling his scaled-maw to your cheek. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

“Of course.” You smile, care seeping into your voice. “How are you feeling? Are the side effects… gone?” You ask, unsure of how to approach to topic. 

“Yes, thanks to you. I don’t know where I’d be without my feisty little kitten.” he teases, but there’s no bite to his tone - It’s filled with appreciation and truth. He smiles and as he does the tips of his scales begin to crumble to dust.

“You never cease to surprise me, Miss Hunter. I thought I walked this unforgiving road alone. You’ve proven me wrong, I’m sorry for doubting your trust in me.” He picks up your hand in his now considerably more human-sized palm and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll answer all your questions once we’re back at the base. But for now, let me tend to your body. Rest. Stop that wired train of thought in your pretty little head.”

“I don’t think -” you start in protest, but he pushes a no-longer taloned finger to your lips and hushes. “I’ll play kitty cards with you all night long if you wait until we get back.” He bribes, and you can’t find it in you to deny his offer. 

“Pinky promise?” You ask with a small voice, suddenly alerted to the feeling of Sylus’ monster cock shrinking within you and leaving you feeling empty even though he remains within.

“Pinky promise.” He replies, locking his finger around yours and sealing the deal with a spark of red evol energy swirling between you two. He notices your brief discomfort, holding you closer to him with a look nothing short of true love for you. “Thank you for this. You’ve given me a support that I don’t deserve.” He whispers into your ear. You tear your gaze from where your hands are intertwined and are met with human Sylus once again. 

“Don’t insult yourself like that. What we think we deserve and what others see in us are rarely the same—sometimes, we just have to accept the kindness offered.” You say in a stern voice. He looks at you with utter respect, eyes glowing like you’re his queen. “As you wish.” He hums, and it finally seems like everything you’ve said sinks in. “Now let’s get you cleaned up. As stunning as you are, I don’t think dried wanderer blood is a healthy fashion statement.” He lulls as he begins to unwrap his arms from you. 

“Rest, kitten.” Sylus smiles as he smudges dried blood away on your cheek.“Although we’ll need to find where our phones fell to. And new clothes.”

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 07

Ticci Toby x Female Reader - Clothed Sex/Forced Proximity

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Clothed sex, dry humping, biting, blood, panic attacks, rutting, grinding, forced proximity, claustrophobia

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.4k

A/N: This is by no means an accurate depiction of what a panic attack is actually like. Please do not take what I describe/write out as realistic.

“Is now a buh- bad time to tell you I’m clau- claustrophobic…?”

Toby was jittering, nails scratching the side of his neck so hard the skin was rubbed raw and nearly bleeding. You were holding his arms- trying to, as he shook something awful cramped against you.

“Hey, hey, shhh. You’re okay, man.”

You had seen one too many times what it looked like when Toby wound himself into a panic attack, the brunette spiraling so bad EJ had to administer some sedatives just to get him to sit down. He was nearly there now, eyes so bloodshot you wondered if he had popped a vein. 

Jeff, as bright as he is, thought it would be funny to lock you both in the mansion’s basement storage closet after you refused to do his chores. The killer knew you liked Toby, knew you had trusted him with that, but found it so hilarious to punish you both. You had beat on the door, and called his name, yet he was long gone upstairs. 

At first, you were angry, seething at him for forcing you into this position. But when the brunette’s awkward laughs turned into panicked tremors, that anger slowly dissipated.

“Toby- You have got to breathe.”

“Can’t- M’c-can’t-” Toby couldn’t feel as his fingernails broke the skin on his neck, droplets of blood trickling onto his jacket. You panicked, shuffling against the piles of junk as your back pressed against the grimy brick wall. The only source of light was a single dusty lightbulb overhead, the electricity nearly shot as it flickered and whirred above you. But through his mask and goggles ruffled into his hair, you could see Toby’s expressions clearly as he teetered on the verge of passing out.

You reached for the old door handle, rattling the knob and cursing when it refused to budge. Toby whined above you, his chest heaving against yours and cramping your further into the dark corner, neck jerking and grunting. You called out, hollering for Jeff or anybody that would listen, but were met with nothing but the brunette’s panic.

“Toby- Listen, man. You’re gonna have to calm down-” Cramming your hands up, you gripped his wrists, forcefully tugging his nails off of his wilted neck. The boy panted, his mask nearly choking him now from the lack of clear air he was getting. It was musty and damp in the small room, so his quick breaths didn’t help.

Shoving his hands away from yours, he began to grip at his mask, trying so desperately to remove the clunky thing. His hair was matted to his face, sweat dripping and cheeks flushed darker than you could really see. “Off- Get it off-” He cried.

You understood, trying to contort your body against his to push your hands behind his head and unclip the mask, shoving his goggles off as well. It was difficult with him twitching and heaving like a madman, forcefully shoving his body back against the bricks so you could get a hold on him.

Finally, you unclipped the straps, the metal clanging to the ground as he shoved it off of his face. His panting was even louder now, unobstructed breathing fogging against you as he began to scratch at his neck again. You cursed, even without his mask he still couldn’t relax.

His hands moved up towards his mouth, a sharp inhale before he scratched at the bandaged limbs and began to gnaw on his palms. You watched fearfully as the cloth covering old wounds tore and blood began to trickle down, the brunette completely unaware of just how much damage he was causing. He couldn’t feel any of it.

“Hey! Toby-” You both were grappling, straining against each other as you tried to pry Toby’s blood-worn hands away from his mouth, droplets of blood dripping down his chin. He resisted, his shaky hands fidgeting against yours when you finally shoved his face away, clasping your hands tight around his.

“[Y/N]... Please…” His voice was raspy, throat sore from heaving so hard. You tried to doorknob again, the rattling making Toby jump when you tried to force it open, but still no luck. You groan, throwing your hands around his shoulders and hauling him down to your height, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You had heard that panic attacks can be subsided if there’s a lack of stimulation- like forcing the brunette into the darkness of your forced hug.

What you didn’t expect was the lips that wrapped around the flesh of your neck and forcefully bit down. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but his teeth digging into the muscles running up your throat felt less than comfortable. Your heartbeat thundering in surprise, a hand raising to push him off, but his arms were already circling around your middle and hauling you impossibly closer. Eyes fluttering closed, your hand fists his shirt, the other tangling into his messy hair. His breathing was still heavy, but the sporadic groans and whines had subsided.

You hissed, the blood from his lips smearing onto the crook of your neck and dribbling down your shirt. His hands fisted the back of your shirt, tugging the fabric and pressing you firmly against him. Lips searing against your skin, his eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, so sweet and warm and comforting. 

You knew it wasn’t anything- just the shock from his panic attack shoving him into any comforting or relieving thing that he could get his hands on, it meant nothing. Until his breathing was steadying his shaking was evening out and his teeth let off to press warm kisses across the indented bite mark. You gasped, tightening your grasp on his hair as he moved down towards your shoulder, shoving the sleeve down to press another firm bite into the muscle. 

“Toby, stop-” But he wouldn’t- couldn’t now. It felt so good just being able to surround himself with your scent and warmth, blocking out just how manic he thought about the situation. He was terrified, but you wasted no time helping him, showing him you cared. He just couldn’t help himself. 

Mouth opening to bite down again, he drinks in your gasps as he slides his tongue across the mark. Your hands drag across his shoulders, bringing you closer to him in this godforsaken closet. It was dizzying- almost as if it hurt to detach himself, drawn by that unfamiliar sense of want he usually didn’t experience.

“[Y/N]...”

Lost in the heat of the moment, Toby’s hands wander the expanse of your body. Groping and squeezing every curve and dip, head practically spinning. Dragging you closer, you whine out when you feel his unknowing bulge press against your hip. Both of your cheeks are dark, sharp breathing and panting filling the quietness of the small room, the smallness becoming less and less prior.

At this point, Toby doesn’t know whether the pulse he feels is that of his heartbeat or his cock, throbbing and achingly needily. Pulling back, the boy admires your unfocused eyes and bruised neck, small hickeys and bite marks littering your flushed skin. Now, it’s no longer a need to relax himself- but a need to feel you. He had never really felt that way before with anyone, let alone you. But right now, eyes heavy and skin so deliciously coated with his taste- he doesn’t think he could resist.

Plunging himself back against your shoulder, he takes a hearty bite, snarling his teeth in. His fingers dig into your back, your whines so haphazard as you’re thrown around by his grasp, unable to actually resist even if you wanted to. Good thing you didn’t.

Because Toby was pushing his hands past your hips to hook under your thighs, lodging himself between your legs and holding you flush against that hard brick wall. The brunette can’t get enough of the way you sigh, and whine- the way you hum your approval like you can’t get enough. This is an indulgence that Toby never knew he really needed.

All fear of the cramped closed stiffened his panic flushes away, only the tantalizing feeling of his throbbing cock grinding desperately against your clothed cunt, riding himself against you. It pulls a deep groan from his throat, his teeth lodging on the opposite, less wilted, side of your neck and huffing his arousal against your skin. He bucks up into the warmth of your clit, your arousal snagging as he grinds against you.

“Fuck, Toby… Feels good… Mnn…” You tighten your legs around his hips, panting heavily as the heat of your bodies swirl, sweat building between you. Toby sucks your ear lobe and tickles a trail of soft, feather-light kisses down your neck. It makes your head fuzzy and body heavy, chills running all the way up your spine. Maybe you’re using this as an excuse to get closer to Toby, but when he pulls back as his lips are so swollen and cheeks are so red, you really can’t help yourself. Call it taking advantage of the situation, but you couldn’t really judge yourself when the boy was slowly grinding his cock against your clothed cunt.

You let your hands wrap tight around the back of his neck, holding him tight as he takes deep breaths against the underside of your jaw, moving his hips nice and slow. He ruffles your clothes, shoving your shirt up and pulling at your pants, the clothes becoming too much, but there’s really nothing he can do in a tight fit like this. 

So Toby huffs, lets off your neck, and forces his lips against yours- swallowing you in a heavy kiss. When you kiss, it’s deep, and it’s slow, but it’s hungry too. Your tongues chase each other alongside your hips; impossibly close and still too far apart. His whines are wonton and desperate as he bucks up against your heat, your cunt throbbing with every shove of his hips against yours. And he’s not the only one; your voice spills from deep in your throat with every roll of his hips, cunt swollen and practically dripping with arousal into your panties.

It’s so warm. You’re so warm- heat practically radiating from you. Pre leaks from Toby’s aching cock, chills running across his skin. His fingers press hard into the skin of your waist, thumbs digging into hip bones to keep that feeling close- like if he tries hard enough he can fuck you through the clothes.

“Hahh,” Toby pulls back to gasp, eyes closed, face pinched in pleasure. You can only stare, only pant tiredly as you watch him, tilt his head back, mouth dropped open on a moan, cock rutting up frantically. Your fingernails claw at the boy’s shoulders, and to him, it feels good, like a deep pressure without the pain. It feels like being wanted- being needed. It feels warm and good- and like he’s about to cum.

He squeezes your waist a little too hard, pushing you blunt against the nasty wall, desperate to be closer, hips bucking up and adding to the mess between you. Sweat drips from his nose, teeth gnashing so hard you’re afraid he’d chip a tooth if it weren’t for your shoulder going back between them. A deep pool of warmth and desire pools in your gut, hips angling slightly to catch just a little more of that sweet feeling.

He bites down hard, careless of the fact you squeal and writhe against him- it only feeds into the sensation of his hard length slotting so sloppily between your thighs. Blood trickles down your shoulder, staining your shirt terribly as your cunt aches, clit pulsing with desire for just a little more. He digs his fingers into your thighs, prying your legs further apart to give sharp thrusts up. You nearly drool as he huffs and groans against you, his strained voice singing beautifully how good he’s making you both feel.

“Need’a cum- go- gonna… Hah- [Y/N]-” Your hands tangle in Toby’s hair somewhere between his breath leaving his lungs and his eyes rolling back in his skull. They weave through damp curls and cradle his head in the crook of your neck, melting into a satiated, boneless tangle of limbs. It’s not another moment before the heavy pool in your gut crashes into you, hips jerking and strangled as Toby’s practically fuck up into the gush of your raw cunt. 

You gasp- and then you’re cumming hard- like you’ve never felt it in your life. Toby holds you tight, riding out his shaky high as his hips jerk and stutter and finally rest firm against yours. He cums in his boxers, staining the fabric as his cock swells and throbs against the constraint. It takes both of you a while to catch your breath, but Toby enjoys it. You find it hard to speak- or even recognize that you’ve both just nearly fucked each other. Only the two of you basking in the aftermath of your own pleasure.

Until you’re both jumping when you hear the doorknob shake and rattle, the door swinging open. Jeff stands with a disgusted face, mouth hanging open as he eyes you both pressed against each other, still heaving and riding out the trails of your arousal. He’s about to make some nasty remark and berate you both for the situation he put you in- and then Toby’s gripping the door handle and slamming it back shut, blocking Jeff out.

Back in the dusty, stale, closeness of the closet, Toby shoves his face back into your shoulder, kissing along the bruised skin. You want to apologize, to reprimand yourself for even letting this situation happen, but his hands are roaming again. Your feet wrap around his waist, holding him close as you feel his hips begin to move again, slow and steady, quiet hums vibrating against you.

Slowly, when your brains are a little less foggy, Toby shifts. He noses along your cheek and searches for your mouth until lips slot together once more, drinking up the other. This time, though, the noises you swallow are sweet, satisfied mewls of appreciation.

The brunette can’t think- won’t think about it. But something is gnawing at him at how easily you could settle him, how well you handled him.

He wants that again.

Now the closet isn’t suffocating anymore, the walls aren’t closing in on him, and driving him insane. Now- all he knows is that he wants to feel just how good you can make him feel again.

And again and again and again.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[literarydumpinggrounds]

Minors DNI 🔞 come get ya juiceeee!

tw: sorta dubcon, heavy degradation, msub, domme!reader heavy dialogue

“That’s right..” you ground your hips down onto his face, ignoring the way your pussy muffled his pathetic noises as you used his hair for leverage in your fists. “Fucking drown in it, bitch boy.”

You can’t help the sadistic laughter that bubbles out at the way he gasps and sputters beneath you. Pliant. Very nearly broken into submission, but those teary eyes are swimming with desire despite his whining protests. No.. Of course a man like him would never like being treated like this. Except for the fact that he would, and he does like it when you treated him like this.

He liked it a lot.

The way your eyebrows would dip in fake pity when you mocked him. The way your voice dropped and oozed with intention. That salacious little look in your eyes as you’d pout, just to wipe the sympathetic act from your expression effortlessly; confident grin playing at the edges of your lips.

He was so attracted to you that it made him ache in places he didn’t know could ache.

You gave him a space that he’d never experienced before.. somewhere that he was safe to let someone else carry the weight for a while. A sanctuary that had been built on trust.. and sex. Like a fuck ton of sex.

“You love being such a depraved little mouth for me, don’t you?”

A strangled breath puffed through his clenched teeth as you gripped his jaw, running the flat of your tongue over the side of his face. Slow and deliberate.. Licking from his chin to his cheekbone tasting yourself in the messy layer of your slick glistening on his face. “So happy to make a pretty little mess of yourself..”

Your tongue lapped over his parted lips, eyes locked with his in an intense exchange. Primal. Wanting. “Such a lewd expression.. all for me, right?”

“You’re all mine? Every last inch, down to the last freckle..”

He was nodding. Without his own permission, he was eagerly nodding in agreement, even as you sank down on him; as you scalded his cock with how hot you were inside. He would do anything. Say anything. Be anything, if it meant you would keep fucking yourself on his cock like that.

“I-I’m yours! Please, baby— w-wait!“

His cries of pleasure brought you to a halt, speechlessly observing as his hips bucked up haphazardly, manly thighs spasming beneath you. That delicious expression smearing across his features was always so hot. The way you could find traces of the pleasure igniting every nerve ending in the deep moans shamelessly escaping him.

He just came without permission while buried deep inside of you.. and the panicked expression taking over sends a thrill through you, making you smile.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that.”

[justwhumptypethings]

tw; dehumanization, disassociation, aftermath of conditioning

whumpee who’s just.. blank after. staring off, quiet like the dead.

they don’t only not speak unless spoken to, they don’t speak unless they’re asked a question. They could be having a conversation, and even then their answers are barebones and vague enough to not get them hurt. and as soon as caretaker says something that’s not a direct question, whumpee doesn’t answer.

they sit there in the back of the room silent. caretaker forgets they’re there sometimes. maybe they start panicking if their nose is clogged or their breathing is audible for some reason, because they can’t stop making noise.

their eyes are dull. they’re exhausted, nearly always disassociated or derealized, not focusing on their body or the world around them because they expect the people around them to pay as much attention to them as they would an object.

they don’t understand when people talk to them. they don’t react unless someone says their name like an order.

the way they talk is always vague enough that it could agree with whatever the person who’s talking to them says. they are hesitant to take any real stance. maybe they seen confused when someone asks them what they want.

they never really get comfortable with talking again. not the same way they were before.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Please. Alastor x single mom?

Oh my god and imagine how he’d give her the best Mother’s Day ever after years of just her waking up to a normal day aside from her baby giving her a macaroni necklace or a card and now she’s waking up to a breakfast in bed and a day to relax I’m not getting emotional you are

Okay, but y'all are giving me baby fever fr with these asks

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: F L U F F, A little bit of sex towards the end but a very small amount

Description: ☝️⬆️

Whether or not you were a mother when you were alive, you certainly were one now. You took in and protected as many children sinners you could because nobody else would

You took care of toddlers all the way up to teenagers, it was an exhausting and thankless job but you don't think you could ever quit

Not when one of your kids comes crying to you because they scraped their knee, or they had their first heartbreak, or they had a nightmare

How any of them ended up down here was baffling to you, especially the youngest ones

You protected your family fiercely and have even gone toe to toe with overlords to keep your kids safe, earning you a reputation for being a mama bear

You loved being their mother and wouldn't give it up for anything, no matter your own sins

So when one of your little ones goes missing, you're panicking and searching everywhere for her. You spend all day trying to find her and asking anybody if they've seen her

After hours of searching, one of your teenagers calls you, telling you they found her but that you need to come home immediately. You don't need to hear anything more

When you get home, you find your little girl sitting in the lap of Charlie Morningstar, Hell's Princess. All your kids are gathered around her while she tells them about her hotel

Something you had been trying not to let them know about because you didn't want to get their hopes up only to be heartbroken. It was cruel

Not to mention the shady characters that probably stay there.

So imagine your irritation when all your children suddenly swarm you and start begging to stay at the hotel. Each one excited and hopeful to learn how to go to heaven

You can't tell them no so you try to dissuade them but they insist on going so you allow it. It's very reluctant agreement though.

You try to keep all your children close to you once you enter the hotel and see the others. Let's see, an angelic exorcist, a p0rnstar, a tiny murderous maid, a drunk bartender and one of the most deadly overlords around

You were unimpressed, and it showed as you held your kids a little tighter, not even hearing Charlie excitedly telling you about all the amenities

You have a difficult time letting your kids sleep so far away from you, all of them excited to get their own rooms. You often check on them throughout the night

More than once, Alastor has caught you peeking into their bedrooms to make sure they're still safe in their beds

You startle when you hear his amused laughter, nearly bumping right into his chest as you close the door behind you

"Nobody is going to eat them while they're asleep, you know."

You can't help but feel defensive, crossing your arms and giving Alastor a withering look

"That's not funny coming from you."

His smile only gets wider, gripping your chin and tilting your head up as he leans in close

"Darling, it's even funnier because it's coming from me!"

You insist on making sure your children eat a good diet, often making it yourself because you don't trust anybody else to do it. That and some of your little ones can be picky eaters

Often, Alastor stops by the kitchen to watch you, curious about what you're making and how much of it you plan to make

"My my~ That smells absolutely delicious, my dear~! What are you making?"

You're guarded, setting down the plates on the table a little harder than you meant to

"It's just an old family recipe, nothing special."

So imagine your weary surprise when he starts to help you cook, helping with the food preparation and even setting the table. You start to get used to his help, relaxing a little more each time you two stand hip to hip, cooking

He's even taken to sitting down to meals with you and your family, an amused smile on his face as he watches all of you interact. Eventually, he joins in the conversations, and your youngest ones get comfortable enough to even eat off his plate

"Don't take food from his plate! That's rude..!"

"It's quite alright, my dear~ I find it endearing~"

He's even in your corner when your picky eaters rise up and try to say they don't like what you made. Pushing their plates away and pouting

"Mom, I don't like it..."

You can't help but sigh and roll your eyes, exasperated and annoyed that you have to go through this again

"Yes you do, you've eaten this before and you gobbled it up... Just try it, baby."

They whine and try to refuse when Alastor speaks up, pushing their plate back towards them gently

"Now, now, your mother worked hard on this meal... We don't want her good efforts to go to waste, do we?"

"No..."

Your child whines but reluctantly takes their fork and begins eating, Alastor giving you a triumphant grin as he sits back down

You take a bite of your own food to hide the fond smile that wants to creep up onto your face

The hardest, scariest moment at the hotel for you was when you and one of your older girls got into an argument in front of Alastor

It all started over a party and a boy, you wouldn't let her go and in typical teenage fashion, she started to fight with you. The more you held your ground and said no, the worse it got

"Young lady, that is not a good environment for you! It is a disgusting den of perverts, drugs and uninhibited violence!"

You tried to stay calm and reason with her, but her emotions were running too high

"We're in HELL! There's no place here that's good for any of us! Why do you have to be such a bitch!?"

Before you can even open your mouth to reply, Alastor places a hand on her shoulder, his smile twitching and the sound of static buzzing

Your heart drops as you fear he's going to hurt her, instinctively moving forward to stop him

"Alastor-"

"Dear one, it's bad manners to talk to your mother like that. She only worries for you and wants to keep you safe. I suggest you go to your room and calm down, then come back to apologize to her. Hm~?"

He pats her head and nudges her to go to her room, turning to you and tilting his head. She looks embarrassed and a little ashamed, seemingly taking Alastor's words to heart

"Ah, teenagers~ Always so temperamental even when dead~"

You do your best to ignore the sudden heat on your cheeks, the way Alastor handled the situation having you feel some type of way

If Alastor were to have a type...he would have to say he's definitely drawn to the motherly type, it's a weakness of his

So when Charlie drags you and your gaggle of children to the hotel, Alastor has an inkling of the kind of trouble he's in for the moment he sees you

He's seen how you've come running out of your room in the dead of night because you heard one of your little ones crying from a nightmare. How you spend the rest of your night awake and rocking them back to sleep

Alastor has watched you run yourself ragged trying to get all of your children ready to go out for the day, juggling your teenagers yelling at you because they can't find their clothes and your little ones tugging on your clothes for your attention

He's noticed how you'll shield your family from sinners at least twice your size without fear. Not even he himself was an exception from your intense protectiveness

In the earlier days of your family moving in, Alastor had picked up one of your younger kids to stop them from touching something and you had panicked

He'll never forget how you had tore your kid away from him and held them tight, giving Alastor a intense look as you poked his chest

"Never do that again."

He had tried to brush it off and charm you with a smile, acting unbothered

"Darling, your family is in no danger here. I can assure you-"

"Bullshit. There's no such thing as a safe place or someone you can trust, not here."

You had stormed off after that and Alastor was left with a warm feeling building in his chest that has yet to leave

Your soft smile whenever one of your kids snuggled with you, the way you sighed and put your hands on your hips when they argued with you. Your voice when you sang your littlest ones to sleep

It was all so addicting for him, he found himself wanting to be a part of your family and the love within it

Without even realizing it, Alastor had begun filling the role of the father in your family, ending up getting attached to each of your kids

He learned what made them happy, what made them sad or scared, which ones needed hugs and which ones preferred words

Both you and Alastor began to work together as a team, and most people outside of the hotel just assumed you two were a married couple. A married couple with a small army of kids

You stop one child from bumping into someone, and Alastor scoops up the other two before they can do the same

Alastor will cook dinner and you'll clean up the mess while you both sneak the dessert that the kids don't know you have

All of you will hang out together in the lobby of the hotel, Alastor humming to himself and pretending to nap while your girls play with his hair and paint his claws

Your boys will all be cuddled up around you while you read a story to them, both of you enjoying the domestic bliss

There's a building tension between you and Alastor that everyone can sense, even the kids but nobody comments on it

Except Angel but he doesn't dare bring it up around you two

Your kids start pulling little stunts to get you two to end up together, offering to make you both dinner only for it to be classically romantic with candles, flowers and your children pretending to be waiters

Or asking embarrassing questions in front of the two of you, like if Alastor thought you looked pretty or if you liked Alastor's voice

Or wanting both of you to tuck them and give them goodnight kisses at the same time

The worst part is...it was totally working

The tipping point came when one of your boys woke up crying in the middle of the night, both you and Alastor barging into the bedroom

He was inconsolable, having obviously had a nightmare and repeating that he didn't belong here. He only quieted down once you and Alastor wrapped your arms around him

The three of you were cuddled up on a bed that was far too small for all of you, you couldn't contain your blush once you realized this

So Alastor offered up his room for the night, and the three of you snuggled together in his bed, Alastor's arms wrapping around you

You both woke up with more kids in the bed than you remember going to sleep with, your little boy having climbed onto one of his sisters instead

Leaving you tucked under Alastor's chin with your face in his neck, Alastor's strong arms around your waist and his face buried in your hair

The two of you had pulled away out of embarrassment, making eye contact before suddenly melting back together, soft smiles on your faces

"Alastor..?"

"Hm~?"

"I really want to kiss you right now..."

You two are unofficially, officially a couple after that. Grossing out your children by kissing each other, saying sappy things, just embarrassing them with how in love you are

It's so painfully domestic, but Alastor wouldn't give it up for anything. Not when the youngest ones grab his legs and try to hold him down, not when the teenagers get snarky with him. Not when you two bicker over what's best for the family

Even the more embarrassing moments, like when you two are in bed together, Alastor chasing his release as you lock your legs around him and dig your nails into his back

He's nearly about to spill inside you when there's a tentative knock on the door, making the two of you freeze and whip your heads towards the sound

"Papa..? Mama? I keep hearing scary noises, and I can't sleep..."

It's an awkward untangling of limbs and soft cursing before you two start laughing at how absurd it is

Or the softer moments when he looks into the bedroom to see you singing your kids to sleep, feeling himself grow relaxed and sleepy at the sound of it

His life has nearly completely changed since meeting you and your family, but he wouldn't change anything even if he could

Rosie often teases him about how much he's softened up for his family. It's all good-natured, though, she just as attached to them as he is

"So Alastor~ How's that little family of yours doing? Did your girls finally stop fighting over that boy?"

"They're lovely as always, but unfortunately, that boy seems to have been scared off."

"Such a shame~"

"Quite~"

Honestly, the only thing Alastor needs now is to find you a ring

@valerie-is-in-the-cupboard I know we talked about you writing a lil' something about this, so I tried to twist it up because I didn't want to inadvertently take any ideas you had!

[8lyme]

"Why do I have to lose you?" pt.2

Part 1 <-

Logan Howlett x Reader (afab pronouns used a few times)

Warnings: very sad, a little graphic, mentions of blood/gore, grown man brought to tears, TW didn't get to describe how sexy logan is sorry

a/n: ate my cheerios locked in to gossip girl and then wrote the saddest shit i could. also idk how to do a taglist but to my one fan heres ur shoutout xoxo @corvusmorte 🫶🏼

You tugged at the clips of your harness, trying not to hyperventilate. Sporadically swiping the heels of your hands across your eyes between each tug made your hands slick with tears. After a little bit, you couldn't even grip the buckles anymore.

Damn Logan's stupid metal bones, locking you into the chair.

You reached behind you to try and release the spring of the chair. If you could just pop it up, you would slide over to the console and could turn off the autopilot.

You hoped Logan survived the fall from the jet as you painfully leaned over the arm of the seat.

"Please, please, pleaseplease, please!" you whispered to yourself. The chair dug into your ribcage too much, and you couldn't reach the clip. You straightened up and let out a few panicked cries before trying to reach behind the chair from the other side.

You strained your neck to peak around the chair, shoulder straps tight to your chest. There has to be an emergency unlock or eject button on the chair for this harness, you thought before panickedly feeling all over the sides of the chair with your hands.

After running your hands over the metal to no avail, you resulted to sticking you legs out to try and reach the console. You groaned as you stretched your leg as far toward the controls as possible. When that didn't work, you tried to swing your legs behind the base of the seat. The straps and the curve of the seat prevented your foot from going very far, causing you to straighten with a frustrated cry.

You yanked again at the straps, somehow managing to get your heels onto the seat lip. You gripped the chair arms and pushed up in an attempt to snap the strap between your thighs. It was stuck fast.

You angrily swung your arms in an attempt to hit something. The straps under your shoulder shifted, and you immediately began to wiggle yourself out. Painstakingly, your right shoulder was freed.

You ripped your other arm out of the harness and again extended your hand to the clip behind the chair. Through the reflection of the windshield, your hand looked just close enough to the clip, but you couldn't feel it.

Readjusting, you took a deep breath. The cabin was nearly dark, and the loud sputtering of the engine made it hard to think. You couldn't turn the chair around and there was nothing in reach to grab.

Far from giving up, you tucked your ankles back to the chair lip and reached behind you again, still just barely too far away.

"Oh, yes!" you said, realizing your boots were high enough for you to take off and reach behind you with.

Boot one was undone and in your hands in seconds, dangling by the clip. You smack once, twice, and then three times before hitting the clip. The chair unlocked and started to slide forward, but a loud clang followed by the screech of tearing metal tipped the jet and locked you back in place. Your boot flew out of your hand to the back of the cabin.

Wind instantly roared behind you, and you turned to the hanger door falling open. Whatever hit you did damage. Realistically, this jet didn't have much more flying time left in it. You had half a heart to let the autopilot land.

However, you caught a glimpse of the army beginning to bunch itself up. If you could unclip the chair and turn off the autopilot, you could swing the jet around, steer towards towards the grouping troops, and ideally eject yourself out of the hangar before the jet exploded into the ground and took out the trucks and soldiers.

"Okay, okay" you reassured yourself, untying your other boot. You reached behind the seat. Before you could even think to hesitate, a glimpse of the school caught your attention.

The grounds were in flames and a large chunk of one corner had been blown off. You instantly smacked your shoe down, unclipping the chair's safety lock.

In an instant you shot forward to the controls. You smacked the autopilot switch and gripped the handles, jet dipping before you regained control. You angled the handles down and pushed the jet into a nose-dive. The ground came rushing at you fast and you felt your ears pop with the pressure change. Your vision blurred while you flailed for the eject button.

-

Logan hit the ground with a sickening crack. He blinked awake after a minute of regenerating, the familiar buzz of his limbs waking up starting to fade.

He unsheathed his claws before glancing up at the sky to watch the jet you were in begin to fly away. Relief was quickly replaced with urgency as the boom of a tank went off near him.

He stood just in time to watch a corner of the school crumble to dust. Rage bubbled up inside him, and he sprinted toward the source of the explosion.

Before he managed to get halfway to the clumping group of tanks and soldiers, the roar of the jet shoots over him. He skids to a halt as the jet barrels into the center of army.

The ricochet from impact knocks Logan onto his back. He groans while lifting himself off the grass, short circuiting at the sight of thick black smoke coiling from the crash.

He scours the sky for a sign of you, panic and anguish settling into him when he sees nothing. He clambors up and sprints to the smoldering jet.

Logan tries to shut his mind off as he rips away at the metal of the jet. The bay door is jammed shut awkwardly, and he can only slash through it so much.

He's able to get a grip of an opening, brute strength bending the metal away. He climbs through, sliding down the angled floor and into the crushed cockpit.

There's no sign of you inside. Logan has shredded through the controls and interior walls in panic. He doesn't want to hear himself say it, but he knows anything that happens to you is his fault.

"Logan!" He hears, and through the hole he ripped open in the jet is Scott.

"We found her."

-

When Hank had found you, you were gasping for air. You'd shot out of the back of the jet at the last second, flying through the smoke. The straps that clung to you may as well have saved your life, the metal of the chair breaking most of your impact.

Not all, however, as your landing caused you to roll harshly against the ground. You narrowly dodged a rock smacking you clear in the head, but the bounce of the seat slammed your leg into something very hard, and you felt it break.

The feeling of hands roused you from your daze, and you managed to blink your eyes open.

"Can you hear me?" You hear. "Hey, open your eyes. Can you hear me?"

You could blurrily make out Hank's face against the contrast of the trees. The warmth of his hand reaches your face, and you try to offer him a pained smile.

"Hey," you manage, not noticing the drop in Hank's expression when blood pools out of your mouth.

"Keep listening to me," He says to you, pulling on the straps of your harness. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

" 'Kay," you whisper, head lolling to the side when Hank lets go to rip the straps out from the back of the seat.

He slides his hand under your shoulders, pulling you up and tilting your head down against his chest.

"You still hear me, right?" He slides his other arm under your knees. "Still with me?"

"Uh-huh," you answer. Hank pulls up on you and begins to stand, but you cry out in pain. Your leg is on fire as it hangs loose in the air.

"What happened? Where are you hurt?" He panics, setting you flat onto the ground, arm still around your back.

"My leg," you gasp out, arms shaking violently as you bend to grip your calf. "Broken."

"Fuck," Hank says. "Hold on."

You hear a loud snap and feel pressure on both sides of your shin. He's taken two branches and braced your leg, using the broken straps of your harness to makeshift a splint.

"Best I can do," He says, moving to scoop you up again. "Ready?"

You nod, still trembling from the pain. He stands, and the pain in your leg makes you lightheaded. Hank is still talking to you, asking you questions that you can only answer with single syllables.

You're lucky you can't see his face. He isn't wearing his concern well. Blood outlined your teeth and cracked into your lips. The color had been drained from your face and your breaths were shallow. He wasn't sure if you were aware of your shredded uniform sleeves or the blood seeping from them staining his shirt.

Your breaths turned into wheezes, and Hank picked up his pace. The courtyard of the damaged school coming closer into view.

"Hey, keep talking to me. We're almost at the school, ok?" He shifts you gently, hoping the movement rouses you more.

"Huh," you wheeze, the whistling in your voice making Hank more nervous. Your ribs were definitely bruised if not broken. Your uncontrollable shakes alluded to a severe head injury - one he prayed wasn't worse than a bad concussion.

The two of you broke through the tree line. Surrounding sounds started to fade out of your hearing, but you tried hard to focus on Hank's voice.

He shouted out to someone, but you stopped making sense of voices.

"Hey, open your eyes," Hank says, careful not to jostle you too much as he scraps for your attention.

You tilt your head up slowly, trying desperately to keep your lidded eyes open.

"Can't," you mutter out. You feel sick and hot, each breath accompanied by an increase and then decrease of the dull pain in your chest. Everything hurt so much it almost began to cancel itself out. The effort you made trying to stay cognisant suckng the energy out of your body.

You don't hear him try to rouse you again, or the panic in his voice when he realizes you aren't responding.

You don't hear Ororo screaming across the grass at Scott to get Logan. You don't feel her hands against your neck as she checks your pulse.

You don't hear Jean shouting at Hank to take you to the lab. You don't hear Scott calling out to Logan. And you don't hear Logan calling out for you in a broken roar.

-

Logan stares at the floor outside of the lab. A dark cloud of fear and anguish settles over him. He has a way of thickening the air with negativity in these moments.

He can't look Hank in the eye knowing your blood is soaked through his shirt. Knowing he trapped you in that harness.

He counts himself lucky that he didn't find you crushed to the console of the jet, but that doesn't mean he isn't fighting off how very real that could have been.

Scott and Kurt had to hold him away from the doors when he raced after you. They later had to hold him up when he collapsed to his knees in despair.

He didn't look up when the hiss of the glass doors sounded or when Jean called Hank in to swap with her. They'd been at this for hours. Hank was terrified of you sustaining a significant brain injury, Jean more concerned about the hairline fractures in the ribs of your chest, caused by the harnesses Logan crushed to your body.

Jean sank in the seat next to him, letting out a shaky breath.

"Logan," She tried gently, knowing he wasn't capable of a response. "I know how you're feeling right now-"

"You don't," he cuts her off. The shake in his voice cuts through the air and he rubs at his eyes, hoping Jean can't tell that he's trying to rid the sensation of stinging behind his eyes.

"Logan, we know you crushed the buckles of her harness," she says gently. The breath he lets out is shaky and filled with a somber acknowledgement. He feels so guilty he might be sick.

"If you hadn't done that, she most likely would have died," Jean tells him, knowing this won't change anything besides offering him an ounce of peace of mind. "If she'd unclasped herself at any point, she would've flown out of the jet when the hangar was hit open. The clasps are designed to unhook on impact after ejection, and since her chute didn't activate she would've hit the ground much harder. I know you feel at fault here, but she's only bruised."

"If'd I'd just let her land the damn thing," he choked out, looking up to blink back the wetness in his eyes.

The door slid open again, Hank moving through slowly.

"Her eyes are open," he says, relief not present in his tone. "She might respond to you."

Logan meets Hank's eyes. He looks tired and defeated.

He looks away as he slowly pushes up from his chair, slowly and shakily passing Hank through the doors. Logan feels Hank's eyes burning into the back of his head. He gains no solace from knowing whatever Hank is thinking about him, Logan is thinking much worse.

He's afraid to step closer when he sees you. Your leg has been casted properly, resting over two white pillows. Your tattered uniform has been replaced with a grey t-shirt and shorts, a thin blanket laying over your one fully-exposed leg. He can see wires from EKG electrodes poking out from the bottom hem and collar of your shirt. An IV of saline is attached to the vein of your arm. Both have gause peaking out from your shirt sleeves, and Logan didn't have to see the blood soaking through them - he could smell it. A nasal cannula rested above your upper lip, blood still crusted between the cracks of your lips. You had two unbandaged scrapes on your face, one on your jaw and the other on your forehead.

You blinked and just barely turned your head to him. Immediately, he rushed over, gingerly touching your fingertips.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to you, terrified to place his hands anywhere on your body. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

He covered his eyes with his hand, breathing in a sniffle as he turned his head away from you. His thumb stroked over one of your fingers.

He felt you move and quickly faced you, eyes rimmed with redness. He watched you blink slowly, opening your mouth to try and speak.

You said his name in a raspy whisper. Logan clenched his jaw and hung his head, slipping his palm under yours. He felt the gentle squeeze of your hand and sunk to his knees in pain, head resting against the side of the bed. Guilt was corroding away at his insides. He felt the crushing weight of his actions in his neck and shoulders. The inside of his body felt weak and his stomach churned.

You turned your hand and stretched your fingers back, gently stroking at his forehead. He squeezed your hand and stood back up, bringing his other hand to the side of your face.

"I don't know how to protect you," he whispered, voice breaking.

"That's okay," you say back, eyes beginning to close again. You pull his hand to your stomach and thread your fingers together, his pinkie resting between your middle and ring finger.

Logan gently threads his fingertips through your hair, wanting so desperately to hold you in his arms.

"Don't go," you mutter, eyes closed. Your breath evens as you fall back asleep. Logan's breath remains shaky, the stinging returning to his eyes.

"I won't," he says softly, voice raw. He slides the chair from the end of your bed over to himself, sitting down. He rests his head between his arms, looking up at the rise and fall of your chest.

He won't leave, not anytime soon. If you wake up and want him gone, then he'll disappear. For now, he'll allow himself to relish in the fact that you're still alive.

[pin-k-ink]

veil // fushiguro megumi

tw ⇢ friends to lovers, mutual pining, sexual tension, insomnia, codependency(?), teasing, nipple play, body worship, clit play, unprotected sex, marking, making out, mentions of violence and injuries

wc ⇢ 7.4k

Megumi sighed heavily as he stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room. As a third-year jujutsu sorcerer, he had seen more traumatizing events than most people could even fathom. The visions played on an endless loop in his mind - the grotesque curses, the brutal battles, the lives lost right before his eyes.

It made true rest nearly impossible to come by. Night after night, insomnia wrapped its icy tendrils around Megumi, holding him hostage to the waking world no matter how utterly exhausted he felt. His body craved the sweet release of slumber, but his mind stubbornly refused to quiet.

The only person who seemed to provide any semblance of peace, any eye in the storm of Megumi's turmoil, was you. You were a fellow classmate and a healer, frequently patching up Megumi and the others when they returned from missions bloodied and weary. While you didn't often join them on the battlefield directly, you had been by Megumi's side through it all for the longest time.

There was something about your calming presence, your unwavering care and support, that helped soothe the jagged edges of Megumi's psyche in a way nothing else could. He felt safe when you were around, like he could fractionally loosen the iron grip of hyper-vigilance that kept him tethered to consciousness.

It happened by accident at first, the realization that your company helped calm the storm in his mind enough to actually fall asleep. The two of you had been studying late one night, poring over ancient texts and trading observations in hushed tones. Megumi couldn't even recall when he had started nodding off, utterly unaware that he was drifting until his head came to rest against your shoulder.

The gentle warmth radiating from you and the faint floral scent of your hair had proven too soothing a lullaby. Megumi jerked awake with a panicked start sometime later, disoriented by the unexpected lapse in consciousness. But as his eyes landed on your peaceful, resting form beside him, he couldn't recall the last time his mind had been so blissfully quiet.

From that point on, a new unspoken routine slowly took root between you. With the dark circles deepening beneath Megumi's eyes, you began to pick up on his struggles to find any respite. So you simply...made yourself available to him, leaving the door to your room cracked in open invitation.

At first, Megumi felt paralyzed by indecision and unspoken hesitancies. But the bone-deep weariness eventually overwhelmed his reservations. He found himself gravitating to your door sometime after midnight, footsteps soundless in the corridor as he slipped inside without preamble.

You never acknowledged his presence beyond a slight smile and shifting to make room for him on the small bed. Megumi would settle in behind you, molding his body to fit the slender curves of yours as you tugged the covers up over both of you. Inhaling the comforting amalgam of your scents, he would finally feel the vise grip of anxiety start to loosen its chokehold as you laced your fingers through his.

Within minutes, the cadence of your breathing descended into deep, even respiration - an anchor amidst the turbulence of Megumi's mind. He focused intently on matching that peaceful rhythm until the world gradually receded and slumber claimed him once more in its warm embrace.

The arrangement continued nightly, becoming as natural as breathing. You never pried or demanded anything from Megumi other than to allow you to provide this small shelter of serenity. And he took unconscionable solace in your unassuming care and discretion, even as it stoked an undercurrent of deeper longing that went unspoken.

Megumi's crush on you was a secret he guarded with the same intensity and vigilance as he did curses on the battlefield. He told himself it was merely an extension of the profound gratitude he felt for how you grounded him, kept him anchored to reality when his psyche threatened to drift into darker depths. But his heart knew better.

With each passing night Megumi spent wrapped in the cocoon of your arms, his feelings for you blossomed into something deeper and more complex than simple appreciation. He found himself studying you in quiet moments - the rhythmic fluttering of your eyelashes as you slept, the gentle swell of your breasts rising and falling, the wispy tendrils of hair escaping their bindings to frame your face.

In those hushed interludes where the rest of the world seemed to fade into insignificance, Megumi drank in every nuanced detail as if committing you to eternal memory. The way your brow would occasionally furrow while dreaming, or how your fingertips would twitch restlessly against his skin in an unconscious caress that set his pulse fluttering.

He memorized the soft little noises you made as you drifted through the cycles of slumber - the nearly inaudible hums and murmurs that rumbled like satin against his jawline when you instinctively nuzzled closer. Each one catalyzed an answering riptide through Megumi's consciousness, an electric thrum of awareness and thinly-veiled yearning that he didn't dare shed light upon.

Because to truly acknowledge the depths of his burgeoning affections would be to open a door to possibilities and vulnerabilities that terrified him in equal measure. What if you didn't feel the same? What if the tranquil sanctuary you'd created together shattered under the weight of his selfishness? The mere prospect of shattering this fragile equilibrium became increasingly more harrowing than any curse Megumi could envision.

So he remained a silent supplicant, content - or so he tried to convince himself - to bask in your radiance from a respectful distance while allowing the steady cadence of your existence to lull his demons. He told himself the secret thrill igniting low in his belly whenever your bodies instinctively intertwined was simply gratitude given corporeal form. That the occasional ghost of your breathfanning across his lips didn't catalyze endless agonizing fantasies about capturing that elusive exhalation with his own mouth in a scorching tandem.

Megumi became adept at compartmentalizing those unbidden yearnings, shunting them into airtight chambers to be unspooled and examinedin the solitary, sleepless hours before you rejoined him each evening. With clinical detachment, he would sketch out every hypothetical nuance should he actually carry through on giving physical form to his deepest cravings.

The way your eyes might widen in surprise before fluttering closed in acquiescence as his mouth claimed yours with lingering insistence. How it would feel to map every sloped and bowed plane of your soft curves, adoringly tracing the constellations of silvered scars and incandescent birthmarks that comprised the physical galaxies of your existence.

He imagined your incredulity giving way to the same yearning need which strained against his composure with each passing night spent laced together in willful obliviousness.The intimate echoes of pleasure and wonder he would eagerly consecrate upon your body with his lips, tongue, teeth—

And just as the delirious spiral of ideation attained true escape velocity from the bounds of propriety, Megumi would forcibly abort the mental exercise. He fashioned those fleeting indulgences into a singular razor's edge to test his willpower and resolve against - proof that he could still discern the boundaries of what was permissible to feel for someone who had become such an indispensible part of his life.

Because the truth was, the fear of irreparably damaging the precious dynamic you had both cultivated outweighed any ephemeral cravings borne from his hormones or sublimated psyche. Having you close, feeling the tranquil balm of your very presence, was powerful enough medicine that Megumi would happily sacrifice his own needs to maintain it indefinitely.

At least, that was what he continuously reassured himself of in those shadowed, liminal hours where one's defenses deteriorated and brutal honesty took on corporeal form.

The fear of your potential rejection, or worse - revulsion and withdrawal - haunted Megumi like a curse given sentient breath. He refused to be the one to risk upending the profound unspoken covenant you had both entered into by broaching those perilous waters of intimacy uninvited.

He would happily consign himself to being your eternal shadow self if that's what it took to keep experiencing those nightly respites where the world became reduced to the twin rhythms of your conjoined breathing. To exist in that warm, blissful refuge beyond expectation or want of anything further.

Until, eventually, the sinuous pull of temptation became too seductive to ignore any longer. Until the idea of not indulging those carnal curiosities burned hotter than any consequences they risked catalyzing. Until the all-consuming gravity between you both attained criticality and Megumi could no longer resist the possibility of you both rupturing into brilliant coalescence...

The tension built slowly, anonymously, over the countless nights you and Megumi continued your ritualistic communion. What had started as a simple quest for respite gradually deepened into something more primal, more erotically charged as the weeks and months slipped by in your endless cycle of slumber and wakefulness.

Perhaps it was the sheer physicality of your sleeping forms twining together in such unguarded vulnerability that catalyzed the undercurrent of awareness. The way Megumi's heightened senses seemed to blaze with renewed intensity whenever he inhaled the warm, intoxicating amalgam of your essences mingled on the sheets. How your fingers would occasionally trail idle, unconscious patterns over the taut contours of his abdomen, trailing dangerously close to where he needed you most.

Or maybe it stemmed from the unprecedented intimacy of witnessing one another at your most unguarded and rumpled - hair mussed and defenses lowered in that indeterminate state between dreaming and wakefulness. The thin veneers of propriety sloughed away until you existed as little more than twin points of radiant energy thrumming in sympathetic resonance.

Megumi couldn't pinpoint the precise genesis of when he started permitting his subconscious to indulge in more sensually-charged reveries while tucked against your pliant form. All he knew was the gradual awakening of a profound, smoldering need that made each successive separation from your warmth more achingly profound.

It started small at first - like catching himself studying the gentle swell of your cleavage rising incrementally with each inhale a beat too long. Or feeling a forbidden frisson of arousal whenever your backside would cant backwards into the cradle of his hips as you instinctively cuddled closer while sleeping.

Megumi found his palms growing slickened with unconscious desire at those titillating moments of contact, fingers twitching with the impulsive need to boldly map the elegant geography of your curves rather than simply appreciate them from a chaste distance. To consummate those indefinable cravings with searing, profane action before the last vestiges of his restraint withered away entirely.

He fantasized about robbing you of that peaceful, slumbering purity - envisioning scenarios where he lost control over that banked reservoir of lust and simply took you in a single, consumptive rush. His calloused palms cupping the weight of your breasts as he nuzzled open-mouthed against the graceful column of your throat, chasing each shivering inhale with lips and tongue until you succumbed to awakening in a spiral of bewildered pleasure.

Or picturing your lithe form arching bowstring-taut against his awakened bulk as he worked methodical paths down the tempting vee between your breasts, teeth grazing hardened nipples through thin cotton until you writhed feverishly against him. Megumi would stifle your incredulous whimpers and plaintive cries into the blackened hollows of his palms, swallowing each punched-out exhalation as he rutted his painfully stiffened cock against your inner thigh in mute supplication.

He knew every ridge, every striation of musculature comprising his own physique in exhaustive detail after years of rigorous training. Yet the prospect of intimately mapping those same minutiae across your untasted terrains literally stole his breath at times. To splay his palm over your lower abdomen and simply feel those powerful, feminine planes flutter beneath his touch as Megumi brought you to the brink...

But just as those delirious reveries risked spiraling out into openly obscene territory, Megumi would reign them in through sheer force of will. Harsh, panting breaths rapidly cooling the molten burn of lust simmering in his veins as he tamped it back into submission. He could no more give literal expression to those basest impulses than he could forfeit the solace your presence provided.

Anything beyond the fulcrum point of temptation represented a line which, once crossed, could never be uncrossed. You'd proven time and again the depth of loyalty and unconditional care comprising your bond. But that depth of trust and acceptance could so easily be severed should Megumi press his desires too insistently.

So he continued subsisting on hazy intimations and fevered imaginings while keeping his more prurient instincts solidly leashed. Savoring the sensuality of each whisper-light caress and breath-mingled proximity while outwardly maintaining his carefully modulated impassiveness. Permitting himself to indulge in those lascivious mental sojourns until the edge of release loomed...before sublimating everything back into restraint with a harsh indrawn breath.

The rigid alternating current between unspoken need and staunch self-denial formed the pulsing heart of the ritual you shared nightly. You remained the serene eye holding the tempests of Megumi's warring compulsions at carbonized bay. And he...he simply basked in the tempering balm of your presence while the embers of want smoldered in secret - flaring incandescently before being ruthlessly banked once more.

An intricate dance of torment and grace, spiraling indefinitely around one another while the thermonuclear potential for something cataclysmic swelled with each passing cycle. Until the day that escalating tension breached the limits of its containment and detonated in a searing, irrevocable rush.

The nightly ritual of entwining yourselves together became more intricate with each passing week. What had started as simple proximity gradually deepened into a choreographed embrace, limbs instinctively mirroring familiar handholds and points of seamless contact.

Megumi found himself unconsciously cataloging and savoring each minute variation, eagerly committing the details to memory like a lifeline anchoring him against the relentless tides of his insomnia. How you would slightly angle your body onto your side to accommodate the hard planes of his chest molding against your back. The specific cant of your hips that allowed his arm to drape possessively over your waist while still permitting unimpeded breathing.

Each successive joining attained an elevated courtship of calibration that fostered unprecedented intimacy. Like two galaxies engaged in an inexorable drift towards eventual coalescence, your sleeping existence warped and bent in perpetual accommodation of the other.

Some nights the restless thoughts careening through Megumi's psyche demanded an even more grounding proximity. Those were the occasions where he found himself cautiously resting his head atop the slender practicality of your sternum, jugular notched against the crown of his brow. Here, tucked into the cradle of your neck, he could literally feel the solidity of your pulse thrumming through his awareness - a primeval mantra of vitality wresting equilibrium from his frenzied mind.

On those nights, you always seemed to sense Megumi's deeper unrest without any prompting or vocal admission required. You would instinctively burrow your fingers into the thicket of his tousled hair, blunted nails scoring heated trails across his scalp in soothing, repetitive strokes that cauterized the hairline fractures in his self-restraint.

Megumi remembers with vivid intensity the first time you combed your touch through his dishevelment that way - the liquid shock of sensation cauterizing every other intrusive external stimulus until only the molten rapture of your caress resonated. He fought not to stiffen with startled arousal, reminded himself to regulate each breath into an even, practiced cadence as your fingertips continued kneading shivery nirvana against his sensitized cranium.

From that point on, the act became like an invocation murmured between you in a language far older than spoken tongues. You cradled him to your heart's steady timekeeping, lulled his mind's frantic metronome into matching harmony through the steadying conduits of your tenderness. And Megumi absorbed the ritual like one of the world's most profound sacraments - folding himself into the sensual harbinger of your care until the disquieting echoes whittling away at his sanity peeled back into irrelevance.

Of course, the intoxicating pleasure of those protracted instances of physical intimacy was not without its tolls as well. Megumi spent countless bouts wrestling his painfully hardened cock back into submission, terrified you would somehow notice the evidence of his lascivious response to your ministrations. He fantasized about angling his hips in pointed invitation, grinding the formidable ridge of his desire against the plush give of your ass until the tantalizing friction robbed all capacity for forethought.

But somehow - through sheer force of will and practice - he always steadied himself before breaching that line of propriety entirely. Allowed the exquisitely tortuous yearning to crest and plateau before carefully redirecting the bonfire of his lust into more neutral, innocuous channels once again. Still, the agonized throbbing of his cock during those lapses in control served yet another agonizing reminder of how precarious his restraint remained where you were involved.

Then there were other nights where the metaphysical gravity between you intensified to a nigh-insupportable degree. Occasions where the low ebb of tension shading toward outright erotic charge became too much to simply bear in polite, silent observation. Megumi would find you seeking solace in the solid bracket of his arms wound around your waist from behind instead - your smaller form bracketed into his sculpted embrace with your back sealed flush to his chest.

Here, intimacy rankled in subcutaneous tactilities and the somatic topographies of skin all but extinguishing its own illumination. The physicality of your closeness overwhelming every dulled sense until each shallow inhalation fluttered through Megumi with gut-punched intensity. On these smoldering occasions, he could literally feel the downy caress of your exhales pebbling the bare skin of his forearms, teased the rarefied definition of every flexed musculature sheath bracketing your form.

He frequently surrendered to the delirium of nuzzling into the fragrant tumult of your hair during those times, drugging himself further on the precious methedrine of your proximity. Inhaled in ragged drafts the musky underlays of your exertions that day mingling in sublimated ritual with the powdered-silk bouquets of soap and shampoo until the composite scent became more intoxicant than oxygen itself.

Unconsciously, reflexively, his touch would grow more covetous - fingertips trailing intricate emblems against the exposed expanses of your abdomen in strange forgotten glyphics. Heated brands of delirious possession emblazoned like scripture against the divine of your body's topography as silent offering. Molten lust tamped down to smolder through ingrained ritual until only the indelible physicality of shared consecration remained between your inosculating forms.

In those fevered raptures of near-dissolution, Megumi orbited nearer to capitulating before the magnetizing gravities arrayed against what little restraint remained binding the sanctities of your bond together. It became increasingly harder to weigh the cosmic indifference of his need against the fearsome recompense that awaited any expression more literal than molten dreams and carnal hallucinations left unenacted.

You never called overt attention to the escalating delirium, never gave voice or acknowledgment to the unraveling stair-step of intimacies unfolding between you with each passing union. You simply absorbed the degrees of erotic intensification catalyzing in his embrace with the same serene grace and mindful presence that had allowed the ritual to precipitate in the first place.

An ouroboric trine of Megumi giving in to the pull of temptation by slow increments, only to reign himself in before the full dissolution of your communion - with you radiating patient understanding all the while.

Until the fateful night when the fragile membranes separating fantasy from reality ruptured entirely under the relentless onslaught of those gravitational accelerations. And neither one of you could profess any clarity on who crossed the event horizon first to send your orbits careening into the devastatingly inevitable.

The harmonic symmetry of your nightly ritual began taking on newer, increasingly charged dimensions as the weeks slipped past. Megumi struggled to pinpoint when precisely the lines between chaste intimacy and burgeoning eroticism had started to blur, but he found himself gravitating towards more indulgent variations of your standard embrace.

Certain nights, when the frayed edges of his self-restraint rayoned to diaphanous threads, Megumi allowed himself to settle against you in a new configuration entirely. Rather than wedging his head into the immaculate cradle of your neck and shoulder, he would burrow deeper - descending until the fevered crown of his brow came to rest in the plush valley between the gentle swell of your breasts.

Here, cradled against the supreme sacristy of your body's undulating topography, Megumi could absorb the vital thrum of your heartbeat through the heated stratum of your skin. The rhythm became an intravenous infusion mainlined straight into his faltering sanities, syncing the frantic piston-stokes of his mindfire back towards equilibrium.

On those nights, the two of you seemed to meld into seamless isotropy, bodies twining as one through elemental planes of gravity's maddening allure. Megumi's arms would wind inescapably around your waist, fingers instinctively spanning the narrow concavities between ridges of musculature before rooting against the flared terrain of your hip bones. Anchors thrumming mute benediction upon quivering expanses of flesh so achingly welcoming he thought he might disintegrate into the static charge between you.

There, suspended in what felt like a continuous drift across the eventuality of an intergalactic collision, Megumi allowed himself to telescope further into those fraught reveries silhouetting your sublimated desires. Imagination indulging the lascivious curiosities of devoting open-mouthed penance to those beckoning curves rising and falling in incandescent offering before his gaze. To splay prodigious fingers across the sloped flanks and reverently pepper the soft, vulnerable underswell with the calibrated intensity of his attentions until you arched in supplication to an even more consumptive benediction.

The decision to stay late one evening, when a badly injured student arrived on the cusp of hemorrhaging out, nearly unraveled Megumi's already tenuous grasp on reality.

You hadn't even spared him a backwards glance as you rushed to meet the emergency, instantly sublimating into a seamless triage protocol borne from years of battle-contested experience. Though more accustomed to demons as your primaries, bodies remained bodies - frail geysers of anatomy ruptured by violence no matter the catalyst.

Megumi drifted into the treatment bay behind you sightlessly, an errant moon trailing in your brilliance's wake. His presence registering only as an afterthought, a peripheral white-noise of observation as you went about prepping tools and sterilizing surfaces with economical grace. Only when you paused in mercurial deferential to bark clipped instructions did your gazes intersect momentarily - sending fresh riptides of heated consternation slaloming through his marrow.

He felt unmoored by your crisp, no-nonsense decorum in such surroundings. This whetted, highly-attuned aspect of your persona catching him off-guard in a way that transmuted the erotic undertones scaffolding your nightly intimacies into something more visceral and inflammatory.

So when you didn't dismiss him outright after the fact, Megumi remained transfixed on the periphery of the infirmary. A silent supplicant greedily trailing every deft juncture of your ministrations as you worked to isolate, debride, then definitively seal each sucking anatomical rupture. The sight catalyzed impressions of you peeling back layers like veiny petals, exposing rich carnal terrains of divine primality to his heated, overeager gaze.

At some point, Megumi had drifted closer until he stood a looming sentry presence directly behind you. Unwittingly or not, he radiated an indelible body heat that wreathed your shoulders in its feverish exhalations while you steadily worked. Yet if his covetous proximity registered any disquiet or distraction, you betrayed no evidence of such - your practitioner's aplomb never flagging even as Megumi boldly encroached upon your sphere of regard.

When at last the worst trauma had been staunched and dressed in immaculate, woven geometry, you let out a lengthy, tremulous exhalation that unleashed its own micro-shock wave of spent tension. Megumi was close enough that the resonant echoes of your breath feathered against his parted lips, igniting fresh smouldering in the banked, affective synapses sheathing his corporeal awareness.

Before higher reasoning or conscious thought could intervene, Megumi's hands had already settled in bold supplication upon the sweeping inclines of your hips. His thumbs instinctively spanned the concave valleys radiating from your sacrum, kneading small hieroglyphs of worship against the thin muslin barriers draping your skin as you swayed minutely back against his anchoring solidity.

Under the recycled ambience of the treatment wing, you slowly craned your head until the elegant willow-column of your throat bisected the charged ley lines separating your bodies. Megumi's gaze became immediately transfixed by the graceful relief of your jugular pulsing beneath tanned satin expanses - so deliciously bare and vulnerable that the yearning to mouth heated benediction against its thrumming cadence transmuted into pure visceral static shorting through his nervous relays.

When at last the vertigo of your shared proximity located a single tremulous point of intersection, your eyes blazed forth from beneath heavy-lidded admissions of naked need. In them, Megumi witnessed perfect reflections of his own answered compulsions, blurring thermal distortions of past reservations into gauzy irrelevance, catalyzing one final abeyance before conjoined surrender -

The intimacy between you and Megumi escalated rapidly in the nights that followed. What had started as simply holding each other for comfort was quickly evolving into something more charged with unspoken desire.

One night, Megumi clung to you desperately, the weight of the day's stresses bearing down on him. He pulled your body flush against his, hands roaming over every curve as if mapping out sacred territory. You could sense the franticness thrumming through him and tried to provide soothing caresses in response.

But your gentle touches seemed to inflame Megumi's need even further. He looked at you with an intense, hungry gaze, as if seeing you for the first time. When you met his stare with calm acceptance, any restraint still holding him back collapsed entirely.

In a sudden flurry of movement, Megumi rolled until his weight was pressed against you. He wedged his hips between your parted thighs as you arched up instinctively. Without hesitation, Megumi tugged aside your top and latched his mouth over your exposed nipple.

The feeling of his lips on your skin was electric. Megumi licked and sucked feverishly, savoring your softness and taste like a man starved. You cried out at the overwhelming sensations, back bowing even as your fingers threaded desperately through his hair to hold him close.

It was as if a dam had burst within Megumi after holding back for so long. He lavished open-mouthed devotion across every inch of newly uncovered skin. Your gasps and whimpers only spurred him onwards in worshipping your body.

You matched his ardor, nails raking down his back as you pulled him impossibly closer. The two of you moved with frantic need, exchanging gasps and whispered endearments. Rational thought ceased to exist, overwhelmed by the roaring hunger to finally culminate the intimacy that had been building relentlessly.

Every boundary, every tantalizing hint of temptation leading up to this moment disintegrated under the searing reality. You and Megumi were left teetering on the brink of something profound and life-altering. To cross that line was to tumble into the abyss together, scorched by the annihilating ecstasy of at last giving in completely to your deepest desires.

In the aftermath of that pivotal encounter, the dynamic between you and Megumi was irrevocably altered. What had once been a chaste, if intimate routine of shared comfort, was now electrified by the undercurrent of bared desire.

Each night when Megumi slipped into your room, the air felt thick with heated tension and unspoken hunger. You would pull him into your arms as always, molding your bodies together in that sacred muscle-memory embrace. But now, there was always that loaded pause where you both hung suspended - breath bated, skin hyper-aware as you awaited the first catalyzing spark.

Sometimes it was the slightest accidental brush of Megumi's fingertips skimming along the sensitive undersides of your arms that ignited the conflagration. Other nights, it would be you unconsciously arching into the solid wall of his chest, beckoning hips angling in mute provocation. But inevitably, one simple point of friction would unlatch the fragile tether still constraining you both.

And then Megumi would descend upon you with desperation befitting a man dying of thirst. His mouth would latch over your nipple with a heated suction that robbed the air from your lungs in a sharp gasp. Teeth grazed the pebbled peak with exquisite delicacy even as his tongue laved broad, revering strokes across the tender areola.

You trembled helplessly under the lavish attention, back arching on instinct as waves of molten pleasure radiated outwards from that scorching nexus. Megumi seemed utterly transfixed, working your breast with an almost spiritual devotion - alternating between feather-light flicks and deep, hungry pulls that threatened to unravel you entirely.

Each desperate whimper or broken moan only spurred him on further. His free hand would knead and tug at your other breast, nimble fingers rolling and plucking at the stiff peak until you squirmed deliriously. The rough pads of his palm abraded your silk-soft skin with delicious friction in stark contrast to the velvet heat of his mouth's reverence.

Megumi chased every quivering rise and fall of your chest, lavishing open-mouthed worship across the sloped swells until your every exhale emerged as a ragged, punched-out keen. He was inexorable in his devotion - laving, sucking, even nipping at your puckered areola until that singular point of contact became the entire axis of your existence.

You quickly grew addicted to the exquisite agonies of having him worship your body so thoroughly. The harsh rasp of Megumi's breathing overwhelming your senses as he discarded any remaining barriers between you. The searing brand of his palms mapping every plane and curve as if frantically committing you to permanent memory through tactile consecration alone.

On those nights, your pussy throbbed with relentless emptiness, weeping silent pleas against Megumi's corded abdomen as he ground his weight into you. You lost entire pressures of coherency, retreating into the madness of fingernails scoring pleasured firesongs down his flexing musculature as lightning dances of sensation arced between nerve clusters.

But no matter how deliriously you offered yourself in the shuddering apotheosis of his undoing, Megumi would inevitably regain control before claiming that final, most profound capitulation. He seemed to carry you both to the very brink of annihilating rapture before caging his own explosive impulses once more.

Only once your breasts glistened with the obscene sheen of his lingering efforts would Megumi eventually show mercy. Even then, he stubbornly resisted pulling away entirely, instead lavishing languid, consoling laps of his tongue against your nipple whenever the stimulation verged into overwhelming intensity anew. Only then would he descend, pressing his length against your side while burying his face into the damp, perfumed haven at your breast.

Megumi's grip would anchor around you with crushing finality while he fought to regain his tenuous grasp on composure once more. You could feel his cock throbbing through the layers separating you, sense the molten restraint burning through him as he trembled on the very precipice of violent culmination.

But he held himself back from that plunge with grim determination. And you paradoxically admired and ached for him in equal measure - as if some essential core of Megumi's being would utterly unravel should he ever relinquish those final threads of control entirely.

So you gathered what tattered strands of sensibility remained, gentling him through the shuddering aftershocks with languid caresses until his breathing evened out once more. Until the rigid planes of muscle gradually unwound into the boneless repose of slumber as Megumi slipped into the blessed refuge of unconsciousness, face nestled against your chest and cocooned in your warmth just as before.

Only this time, the hollows carved from nightly denial scored matching valences across both your souls in the aftermath. Reminders of how perilously, combustibly close you had come to breaching that ultimate horizon together before retreating once more. Stoking that banked wildfire anew with each passing cycle of slumber and wakefulness to feed its insatiable, all-consuming hunger.

The night draped the dormitory in hushed stillness, but sleep remained an elusive specter for Megumi. He tossed and turned, sheets tangling around his restless form as thoughts whirled incessantly. No matter how he tried to calm his racing mind, an inexorable restlessness took root.

Until finally, he could no longer ignore the magnetic pull drawing him from his solitary bed. Muscles coiled taut, Megumi rose and padded down the hall like a prowling panther. Each silent stride carried him inexorably closer to the one presence that could dull his frayed edges into blissful quiescence.

He didn't pause outside your door, didn't announce his arrival. Merely slipped into your room like a wraith, instincts guiding him through the familiar motions. You were already there in the rumpled bed, turned towards the door in seeming expectation of his arrival.

Megumi's breath stalled in his throat at the sight of you bathed in the moon's caress. He drank in the tousled spill of your hair, the perfect bow of your lips slightly parted in unconscious invitation. The naked vulnerability in your expression as you waited for him to join you lanced straight through to Megumi's guarded core.

He crossed the room in a few economical strides, body angling towards yours like branches entreating the sun's warmth. You didn't startle when the mattress dipped to accept his weight, simply made space amid the rumpled bedding for him to settle against you.

Your backs melded together in the practised ritual, his arm curved possessively around your waist as if to anchor himself. To tether his unquiet spirit to the only point of equilibrium.

Yet this time, Megumi's control stretched thinner than gossamer. He could no more ignore the fevered thrum of your pulses, the tantalizing warmth of your body cradled against his own. Scalding tendrils of yearning unfurled through his entrails as your familiar scent - crisp citrus and earthen musk - surrounded him in its intoxicating haze.

Megumi's fingers mapped the dip of your waist in a scorching caress, his calloused pads tracing the silken terrain as if committing it to memory. A tremor lanced through you at the molten intensity of his touch, your back arching infinitesimally into his solid frame.

He felt the nearly imperceptible motion like a lightning strike, every nerve ending suddenly hyper-aware of your proximity. Of the whisper-soft sounds of your breathing, the gentle cadence thrumming against his own ribs. The fragrant warmth of your hair fanning across the pillowcase, beckoning him closer into its silken snare.

Reason hazed into distant white noise, subsumed by the primal riptide pulling them into deeper, uncharted waters. Megumi's arm contracted around your waist with inevitable gravity, eliminating what little space remained between your entangled forms. His caged exhale gusted hotly against the nape of your neck, stirring the fine baby hairs there.

You tensed for a charged beat, attuned to the smoldering simmer of intent that Megumi could no longer leash. Then, almost imperceptibly, you melted back into the unyielding plains of his chest in wordless capitulation. An invitation and challenge housed in that simple motion.

He groaned out a ragged exhale, the last tattered vestiges of restraint unraveling. Megumi's palm cradled the juncture of your shoulder, urging you to roll onto your back as he followed like the inexorable path of smoke towards an inferno. Until his searing gaze bored into your own, igniting answering embers that danced across your half-parted lips.

In that electrifying stillness, the world compressed to a single point of gravity enclosed between your bodies. Then Megumi's mouth claimed yours with years of banked, seething hunger finally breaking free in a firestorm of fevered intensity...

Megumi's mouth slanted hungrily over yours, initial restraint giving way to unbridled fervor. Years of simmering tension, of aborted glances and near misses, combusted in that heated collision. His calloused palm cradled the arch of your nape as your fingers fisted in the fabric of his sleep shirt, anchoring him firmly against you.

You exchanged scorching kisses with ardent enthusiasm, bodies straining ever closer until not even a whisper of space remained between them. Your curves melded seamlessly with the unyielding planes of Megumi's torso, seeking that blissful union you'd both sublimated for too long.

When the primal need for oxygen finally overwhelmed the compulsive joining of your mouths, you broke apart with a ragged inhalation. Shared breaths mingled in the scant space, gazes locked in an electrifying exchange of unguarded yearning. Then Megumi dipped his head again, trailing a molten path of kisses along the swell of your jaw and throat.

A tremulous sigh tumbled from your parted lips as you instinctively arched into his smoldering caresses. You could feel the delicious rake of his teeth grazing your pulse point before he soothed it with an openmouthed kiss that seared like a brand. Your fingers combed through the silken strands at his nape, nails scraping lightly to elicit a full-bodied shudder against you.

Rational thought frayed and disintegrated like so much smoke into this blissful oblivion of tangled limbs and questing hands. There was only the unhurried rediscovery of sacred territories and the intoxicating thrum of Megumi's ardor reverberating through your bones.

You luxuriated in the exquisite agony of his mouth worshipping your bare skin. His lips and tongue and teeth traversed the graceful curve of your throat, leaving behind a searing map of claim. Then they skimmed across the slope of your collarbones, his breath a hot gust against your fevered flesh.

He pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat before descending. Megumi trailed a blistering path along the valley between your breasts, savoring every twitch and gasp of pleasure elicited. Finally, his lips latched onto a peaked nipple, sucking and nipping and laving until the molten tension pooling in your abdomen tightened unbearably.

You cried out softly, a broken sob of desire. Your nails raked across his broad shoulders, seeking purchase. His answering groan was nearly feral, reverberating through you as he tugged at the stiffened peak with his teeth.

Your spine arched off the bed, hips bucking against his thigh that had wedged between yours. A whimper spilled from your parted lips as Megumi continued lavishing attention upon your breast, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip in teasing strokes. His hand palmed the other, kneading and pinching and tugging until the twin sensations became a dizzying feedback loop.

Every touch sent shocks of pure pleasure coursing through you, igniting sparks along nerve endings and setting your blood alight. You writhed against Megumi's muscular frame, seeking more, more, more. He answered your unspoken plea with a deep groan, his arousal hard and heavy against your hip.

The sound of his desire echoed in your core, the slickness between your thighs growing unbearable. Megumi was relentless in his ministrations, as if determined to worship every inch of your exposed skin. His tongue and teeth left a scorching path across the delicate swell of your breast, his hands trailing a fiery trail across the quivering plains of your abdomen.

The molten friction of his palms mapping the sloped concavities where hip met thigh, then the supple give of your ass, made you delirious with desire. Every part of you was alight with need, the coil of tension within you tightening beyond bearing. You writhed desperately beneath Megumi, the air filling with a symphony of broken moans and breathless pleas.

Then his fingers skimmed along the apex of your thighs, and the world went white. You were so wet, so ready, that the first touch sent a lightning bolt of pleasure arcing through you. Megumi's eyes blazed into yours as he stroked your aching folds, the heat of his gaze searing you more than his touch.

The slick glide of his fingertips against your swollen clit was exquisite, the pressure exactly what you needed. Megumi seemed to sense your desire, circling and rubbing the bundle of nerves until you were practically writhing beneath him. Your hips bucked up to meet his hand, thighs trembling and voice breaking.

With his free hand, he pinned you down to the mattress, fingers gripping your hip with bruising intensity. His gaze never wavered from yours, his dark irises blown wide with lust. He looked at you as if you were a goddess to be worshiped, his expression filled with awe and desire.

Your climax crashed over you in a devastating wave, the pressure within you cresting beyond containment. A sob tore from your lips as the sensations overwhelmed you, the muscles of your abdomen spasming and your thighs clamping together around his hand.

Megumi continued stroking you, prolonging the ecstasy, until you were a quivering mess. Your whole body was alight with sensation, aftershocks of pleasure radiating through you with each ragged breath. You felt utterly boneless, sated beyond imagining.

Yet beneath that languid satiety, a renewed undercurrent of hunger simmered. The sight of Megumi's fingers, slick and glistening, only fueled the need within you. You watched through heavily-lidded eyes as he brought them to his lips, licking them clean. The sight was indescribably erotic, the knowledge that it was your taste on his tongue making you ache for more.

With a low growl, Megumi descended once more, capturing your mouth in a blistering kiss. His tongue slid against yours, the tang of your arousal filling your senses. Your arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. The press of his bare chest against yours sent a fresh surge of want coursing through you, your desire already mounting anew.

Megumi kissed you hungrily, as if he were a man starved. His hands roamed restlessly across your body, leaving a trail of searing heat in their wake. Your hips rolled up to meet his, the hard line of his arousal pressing against your slick core.

The friction was delicious, the need within you coiling tighter with each passing second. You were aching for him, desperate for more. With a muffled moan, you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, urging them down.

Megumi pulled back just enough to shed the rest of his clothing, baring himself completely to you. His cock jutted proudly between his muscled thighs, the tip glistening with precum. Your eyes widened at the sight, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Megumi's gaze was dark with desire, his expression a heady combination of longing and restraint. He loomed over you, his body thrumming with barely leashed power.

You felt a frisson of anticipation as he settled between your parted thighs, the thick heat of his arousal pressing against your entrance.

Then, with a guttural groan, he sank into you. The stretch and pressure were almost overwhelming, but the delicious friction quickly overrode any discomfort. Megumi moved with slow, steady thrusts, his hips grinding against yours in a sinuous rhythm.

You clutched at his back, fingers digging into the corded muscles. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, closer. The room filled with the sound of your panting breaths and the slap of skin against skin.

The molten coil within you tightened, winding tighter and tighter. Megumi's pace increased, his thrusts growing more erratic. His breath was hot against your ear, his groans echoing in your skull. You could feel the tension within him mounting, his movements becoming more frantic.

And then, with a final, desperate thrust, he drove you both over the edge. Your climax shattered through you, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through your core. Megumi followed suit, his cock pulsing inside you as he shuddered above you.

In the blissful aftermath, you and Megumi remained entwined as one - a tangle of flushed limbs and shared breaths that defied any attempt at separation. Though your bodies had been driven to sublime extremes, there was no sense of depletion, only a profound fullness expanding within your joined spirits.

You trembled in soulful rapture, gasps intermingling with Megumi's own ragged exhales as the world gradually recomposed itself around you. Every nerve ending still burned with the rapturous afterglow, an exalted benediction lapping against the most primordial hollows of your being.

In that sacrosanct cocoon you had spun together through devoted passion, the fragile shells of individuality had fallen away to reveal the scintillant essence beneath. You didn't just feel sated, but spiritually transmuted - two souls having shed their chrysalides to be reborn as something greater through sacred rites of unity.

Boneless and weightless, you could only bask in the incandescent glow of that metamorphosis. For in that endless moment spanning innumerable lifetimes and worlds, you had glimpsed the divine truth at the heart of humanity's highest calling - to love, and be loved completely in return.

[crappymixtape]

hang on tight, baby • part two

NAVIGATION -> PART I •  PART II •  PART III favored to win in barrel racing for the upcoming rodeo, you’re out in the corral practicing when your obnoxious neighbor, tyler owens, swings by to say hi, but when the wind picks up you both won’t have a choice but to trust each other • 18+  | ( 3.1k – TW: natural disasters, tornado, injuries • witty banter as foreplay, fluff in their own way, enemies to idiots in love, tyler owens x reader )

H A N G O N T I G H T, B A B Y • P A R T T W O 🎶 parachute, chris stapleton

White noise buzzed in your ears, a scratchy static that closed in around you tight and suffocating and you couldn’t move. Stuck to the glittering red plastic bench seat and staring out the window at the thin twist of cloud pulling closer and closer to the ground until a hand pressed firm into yours.

“Sawyer, you with me? C’mon, we gotta move!”

Tyler’s eyes were wild, sea glass turned stormy with adrenaline, and the way his thumb flexed against your palm pulled you back to the present.

“Wha–oh–shit,” a string of curses fell from your lips and you pushed yourself from the booth.

“Dot! You got a basement?” Tyler called over the loud drone of the siren blaring outside, but the old woman was already ushering her patrons through the kitchen and out the back door.

“Honey, I’ve done this enough times I could do it with my eyes closed! You go kick those folks out there into gear,” she shoved the last of the diner guests out the door and waved a hand toward the lot where Tyler’s rig was parked.

You hadn’t quite made it all the way into downtown, just on the outskirts, but there had been plenty of people milling around before the warnings started. The post office across the street was filling up with panicked folks and Matty’s Mechanic just around the corner was sure to have people in it too.

“Alright, listen to me,” Tyler took hold of your shoulders and stooped down so that his gaze met yours, setting fire to the flicker in your chest. Steady, sure, safe. “I’m gonna go around to Matty’s, think you can check the post office?” he was nodding at you – you can do this – reassuring, but your heart was hammering against your ribcage so hard you were sure it was going to crack.

“Uh, ye–yeah–”

“Hey. You got this, okay? Okay?” he squeezed your shoulder. “We meet back here in two minutes tops. Right? And if I’m not here you get to Dot’s cellar.”

“What? Without yo–”

“I’m gonna be here, but I’m sayin’ so cos I know you like a good, organized plan,” he tried a small, half-hearted grin, but it fell at the edges and you thought for a minute, maybe he was just as scared as you were.

“Fine. Two minutes,” you breathed and when his hands left your shoulders the hammering in your chest gave way to an ache you’d been pushing back on since the first time you laid eyes on Tyler.

Come back.

“Two minutes. Now giddy-up,” and with that he was already out the door and down the street to Matty’s.

You watched him disappear around the corner just as the sky opened up. Split in two and heaved buckets of rain down onto the pavement, the wind picking up strong enough to start shredding the flag on the pole in the lot.

This wasn’t your first tornado and it sure as hell wouldn’t be your last, but it never failed to scare the shit out of you when the sirens wailed over the howl of the wind. Tyler was right though, there were people across the street that needed help, needed a shove back to reality and you could do it.

You could do it.

Shoving the door open against a gust of wind, it nearly pushed you back into the diner, but you shouldered into it and stumbled out into the parking lot. Rain drenched you within seconds, droplets the size of quarters, too warm and carrying with it the promise of destruction.

Boots splashing through the puddles, you sprinted across the street and into the post office only to find it was full of people – wall-to-wall and standing room only. Your heart stopped for a second, where in the hell were they all gonna go? And then you saw the post master.

“Hey! Hey!” you shouted at him over the cries of children and adults alike. “You got a basement or a cellar?”

He looked like a ghost, white as a sheet, like a deer in the headlights and you shoved through the crowd to get to him. Gripped his shirt in your hands and shook him.

“A cellar, basement, anything!”

“I don’t–s’my first day–what are we gonna do??” he shouted at you and you tossed your gaze out the bay of windows to the street. Diner, empty office space, abandoned gas station–

“There!” you pointed, the wind screaming outside now and pulling all kinds of debris and branches through town. “That gas station has a cellar, I’ve seen it. Get these people over there now! Hurry!”

You watched as your words cut through his panic, his expression steeling against the fear swelling in him and he hollered over the sound of the storm.

“Everyone! Hold hands! We’re gonna get across the street to that gas station over there, alright? Buddy system! Hold ‘em tight!”

A small smile flickered at the corners of your mouth — ‘atta boy — and one at a time people nodded, murmured okay, we got this, let’s go.

Leveraging the door open with every bit of strength you could muster, you held it against the gales as they ripped through the street, making sure every single person made it out. The post master did his duty too, running the line of people and shepherding them along before kicking open the old cellar doors at the gas station and giving you a thumbs up.

Safe.

Now it was your turn, and you were definitely sure it’d been more than two minutes. Your eyes flicked up to Dot’s and saw Tyler running back to the lot through the wind and rain, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Tyler!” you shouted against the storm, but it was loud now, the sky inky black as that tiny twist of cloud turned giant finally connected with the dirt and began swallowing everything in its path. Growing bigger and bigger by the second.

You knew you were out of time.

❝ I KNOW EVERY SINGLE FENCE POST, EVERY ROCK TO GO AROUND. I’VE BEEN STARIN’ AT THE RED OAK, WHERE I KNOW THEY’LL LAY ME DOWN. ❞

“Sawyer! Sawyer!” Tyler felt like he was gonna be sick. It’d been more than two minutes and you were no where to be found, but you had to get back to Dot’s, otherwise you’d–

“Tyler!”

His head whipped to the side at the sound of your voice carried somehow by the wind and when he caught sight of you holding open the door to the post office he heaved a sigh of relief. Thank, God.

“C’mon! Get outta there, we gotta go!” he shouted, waving an arm at the diner, but when you moved to come back out into the storm a heavy gust whipped down the street and slammed the door shut, throwing you back inside with it. “Sawyer!”

Tyler didn’t hesitate, not even one second as he tore across the parking lot to you despite the danger he was putting himself in – staring death down for you. It took every ounce of strength he had to pull the post office door open against the wind, but he got it cracked just enough to slip inside, breaths falling heavy from his lips.

And then he saw you. Sprawled out on the floor with your head propped against the wall of P.O. boxes and chin lolled down to your chest. The sight gripped him tight like a vice spinning shut, crushing his chest and squeezing his heart so hard he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, God–shit–no, no, no–”

Clambering down onto the tiled floor he ghosted a hand over your forehead, wanted to sweep the hair from your eyes, but didn’t. Not now. Right now he needed to make sure you were okay. Checked for signs of blood or broken bones and when he didn’t find any, felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. He pressed his head to your chest for a heartbeat – thud, thud, thud – and that was all he needed. Scooping you up, an arm around your back and the other tucked under the crook of your knees, he lifted you from the ground.

“You with me, sweet stuff?” he asked and when you groaned he let out a shaky laugh. “Damn, Sawyer, you sure know how to scare a fella,” he teased weakly, gaze flicking up to see the tornado ripping through the buildings just two streets over. “Hang on, I’m gonna get us outta here,” he promised.

The wind outside the building was howling so loud he could barely hear himself think. The windows flexed, creaking and whining at the pressure building on the other side, and Tyler’s mind started to race.

Where the hell were you gonna go?

Dot’s was out of the question, too far now, and he’d seen all those people go to the gas station, it’d be full, but then a memory struck him like lightning.

He couldn’t have been more than seven, at this very post office with his granny to mail a package to his uncle Jasper when the sirens started wailing. The old post master had ushered them around the back of the counter and if you hadn’t known where to look you would’ve missed it – the thin outline of a square in the floor with a tiny handle and latch, a bunker.

Now this was years ago, and there wasn’t any guarantee it was still there, but he was willing to take his chances. Bumping the low swing door at the counter with his hip, Tyler pushed you both back to the post master’s desk, eyes frantically mapping the floor.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered, the roof overhead beginning to rattle and shake. It was bound to be overhead any second and then he spotted it, dirt caught in the grooves and faint, but it was there.

“Sorry,” he apologized, trying to set you down as gently as he could in a hurry, and yanked at the handle.

A high pitched whistle filled the room, the air getting sucked out of every nook and cranny, and an explosion sounded outside – propane tanks or Matty’s garage – and Tyler flinched.

“C’mon, you son of a bitch!” he yelled at the door and gave it one last yank until it flew open in a cloud of dust. It wasn’t very big, but more than enough room for the both of you, and he let the breath he was holding go just as a piece of the roof ripped off and spun up into the angry swirl above him.

No time.

Grabbing hold of you, he tossed you over his shoulder and practically fell down the ladder into the bunker just as the rest of the roof gave way, debris tumbling down into the hole after you.

“Shit–hang on!” he called out to you, shielding your body with his, and the feeling of his chest pressed to your back pulled you out of your daze.

Eyes fluttering open you blinked against the dark, the small space illuminated in a flash every time lightning split the sky in two, and you sucked in a gasp. Where were you? Your hands scrambled for purchase and found the piping running along the wall Tyler had huddled you both against.

“Tyler!” you cried and he freed a hand from the old rusty pipes to grab hold of your waist, his palm wide and warm through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hang on, just hang on!” he yelled.

The howl of the wind was deafening now, an unyielding roar overhead ripping and tearing and shredding everything in its path. Distant booms and crashes telling you this was bigger than any EF-1 or 2. Tears welled up at your lash line, head pounding where you’d hit the mailboxes upstairs, and you squeezed your eyes shut against it all, pressing your hand into Tyler’s.

Please, please, please, you prayed silently to whatever god might be listening, Tyler’s chest heaving against yours, his heart hammering heavy in his chest until finally the roar began to dull. Slowed and stretched to a low growl, breathed its last breath and then plunged everything into silence.

❝ SUN COMES UP AND GOES BACK DOWN, AND FALLING FEELS LIKE FLYIN’ ‘TIL YOU HIT THE GROUND. SAY THE WORD AND I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU – BABY, I WILL BE YOUR PARACHUTE. ❞

You opened your eyes to slivers of bright light chasing across the dirt floor of the bunker, the sounds of sirens and emergency vehicles dipping down through the tattered door overhead, Tyler’s hand wide and warm still pressed to your waist.

A shaky breath fell from your mouth.

Alive.

“You okay?” Tyler asked, panted breaths fanning over your hair and it sounded small, vulnerable – no hot air or bravado. A side of Tyler you didn’t know. A glimpse of the fact that he was human just like you. That he felt fear just like you. That there was more to him than you’d wanted to accept and a tiny pang of guilt pinched in your chest.

“I think so,” your voice wobbled as you swallowed down the bile that had crept up your throat upon the sick realization that: had that bunker not been there, you wouldn’t be here and neither would Tyler.

Slowly straightening up, Tyler stooped just a little in the cramped space and kept his hand on your waist, his other reaching to take hold of yours.

“Slow, slow,” he eased, pulling you to your feet, coaxing you up from the dirt, quiet encouragement and then…your name.

Your actual God-given name.

Not Sawyer, not sweet stuff, not honey and it wrapped you up in a soft haze. Sounded like heaven and earth and the moon hung lazy among the stars in the sky and when you lifted your gaze to meet his, your breath caught in your throat.

Green eyes, sea glass, the long sweep of his lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, brows knitted together with worry and something else, something warmer, and you wished you could figure it out. Wished you could swim in that soft sea green searching for what it was. Closer, closer, closer–

“Tulsa fire department!”

A voice rang out above you and you both startled.

“Oh–hey! Down here!” Tyler called up and a shadowed face appeared at the bunker entry.

“I’ve got two!” the man shouted over his shoulder before turning back to you, “Are you alright? Any injuries?”

Thinking felt like wading through molasses and you couldn’t put words to the man’s question. A beam of light flicked on, flooding the bunker and when Tyler stole a glance at you out of the corner of his eye he watched as your pupils stayed dilated.

“Damn,” he started, quiet, worried. “Yeah—er–yes. Possible concussion,” he told the EMT and the man nodded.

“Let’s get her up to the rig for an assessment,” and then he backed up to give you room to crawl out.

“Okay, you,” Tyler murmured, trying for his teasing tone and working overtime to quell the worried whispers in his head, “Up we go.”

Taking both of your hands he helped you gain footing on the ladder, nudging your boots onto the rungs with his own and curling your fingers around each hand hold.

“I’m right behind you,” he reassured as you started to shake, shock digging its hooks into you, “Easy, slow and steady.”

You took it one step at a time like he said, slow and steady, your frame trembling as you went. Tyler kept a hand on the small of your back the whole way, silent encouragement, up, up, up until the EMT grabbed hold of you and pulled you out.

Wincing at the sharp light from the sun, you buried your face into the crook of your elbow and let the man guide you toward the ambulance.

“Possible concussion here, pupils unresponsive to light, but no visible external wounds. Her partner here says he’s fine.”

The voices of the paramedics blurred together as you let them guide you to sit at the edge of the ambulance – the press of a stethoscope to your chest, your back, fingers feeling at your wrist for your pulse, a bright light blinding you for a fraction of a second and leaving behind little neon dots in your vision.

“Alright, seems minor, but she needs to be monitored for 48 hours,” the EMT said and you didn’t realize who he was talking to until you blinked away the pinpoints of light and Tyler swam into focus, “Are you her husband?”

That same flush from earlier bloomed across Tyler’s chest and up, up, up to his cheeks and all the way to his ears.

“Oh, n–no, I’m just–”

“He’s a friend,” you finished for him, rescued him from any further embarrassment and felt a small smile tug at the corners of your lips.

“Do you live alone?” the EMT asked you and the smile faded.

“Yes,” your turn to blush.

“Well, I’m right next door,” Tyler cut in, “I can check on her.”

The man flicked his eyes from you, to Tyler, and then back to you – unimpressed with whatever this was.

“Sure. Well, friend, she can’t be left alone at all for that duration. No sleep for the next 6-8 hours and if she throws up she needs to be seen again. After that she should be in the clear,” he jotted something down on a pad of paper, the two of you staring holes into the ground, like you were sitting in the principle's office or something. “48 hours, right? Right. Take care now,” the EMT leveled you both with a look then took off around the rig to help with the next injury.

Clearing his throat, Tyler rubbed at the back of his neck and closed the gap between you, the toes of his boots almost brushing with yours.

“My truck’s still here,” he thumbed over his shoulder at Dot’s, which was still standing in one piece and his big, red, pickup sitting in the lot. “Thought we were gonna have to walk,” a weak laugh pushed itself from his lungs, but his heart wasn’t in it. Crouching down, Tyler dropped to your eye-level and put a hand over the toe of your boot, “Let’s get you home.”

Taking your hand in his he supported your balance, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. Walked you to the truck and eased you onto the bench. Gently buckled you in and drove carefully around all the debris and wreckage back down the road and in that moment he became more than just your obnoxious neighbor. Became more than a face on a t-shirt. More than his stupid catchphrase.

He was Tyler Owens and he just saved your life.

[ NOTE -> THIS IS PART 2 OF A 3 PART SERIES – STAY TUNED FOR THE LAST INSTALLMENT! ]

crappymixtape™ • tyler owens / twisters masterlist to come!  ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, light bondage, alcohol, misogyny/chauvinism

fem reader

You didn't know such a normal guy could turn out to be so insane. 

But thinking about it, you realized his actions had always seemed a bit too timed. As though he’d practiced – the awkward smile, the sorry laugh, the small apologies, even the blush, and those giddy puppy eyes – creating the perfect disarming cute goof you’d never possibly find threatening even in the slightest despite him being a tank of a man.

He'd been so sweet – so boyfriendly and kind. 

His behavior was just disturbing now. Acting normal with you – ignoring how he’d tied your wrists up too tight...

The room was dim – moody, with the movie playing loud in front. He had his heavy arm resting around your shoulders with your body placed snugly into his side – uncomfortably so. He’d duct-taped your mouth shut a while ago after he’d grown tired of your crying – having stuffed one of his socks in there first.

He gripped a sixth or seventh beercan in his other hand, the one not currently squeezing your upper arm – letting it rest on the dungaree of his thigh, making a dark blue ring where the dewdrops had slid down.

Something happened in the movie you were too tense and panicked to watch, but either way, whatever it was, it seemed to make him lose interest – scoffing out a gruff “Puh-” before raising his beer to his lips, chugging the rest of it down before slamming it to the ground.

“This movie is fucking boring-”

You flinched and would probably have screamed too if you could – all your nerves making you feel sick, close to giving out at the sound of the crash. Your eyes peeled with terror and tears, watching the empty can slowly roll around to a stop on the wooden floors.

He groaned, using his free hand to grab his groin – giving it a tug and shake, manspreading a little wider than what he was already.

Then, he lazily flipped the tail of his belt out of the loops, popping the buckle with a clatter of metals.

You wanted to whine or will yourself to move, but you knew it would only end in more bruises – so instead, all you dared do was breathe a little faster through your nose.

The hand kept at your arm brushed past your shoulder to cup your head, messaging your scalp in big fingers – with such pressure, it made your entire head bobble on your neck. The other hand undid his button and unzipped his fly – then moved to hook the rope tying your wrists together, pulling them to the bulge for you to finish the job.

You didn't refuse, wishing to keep him calm – so you dipped past the band of his boxers with shaking hands, put trembling fingers around his thickened shaft, and gently pulled him out.

He gave a rusty sigh, releasing a damp and sour breath of beer that clouded your head.

Grimacing at the stench, you nearly made the mistake of coughing as your fingers enveloped his fat erection in both hands – intertwined with each other neatly down along his shaft.

He jerked his hip, prompting you to start – stroking up slowly and down again, rubbing over forked veins plump with blood, making him stiffen harder in your grip – soon so hard it stood on its own in your hands, pilling with precum getting caught on your digits.

He pulled your head to his chest and rested his chin upon your cheek – watching your small hands work his cock – your skin so smooth and good compared to his, caressing him so tenderly in such a sweet and loving way.

You listened to his heart hammer on your ear, pressed tight against the tough muscles of his torso with his prickly chin stubble digging into the soft side of your face. The whole position was awkward, but you kept your hands going – rubbing him like you knew he liked until his hands gripped your arm and pulled you off, planting both paws on your hips as he lifted you onto his lap – your thighs spread to straddle him.

He'd been keeping you in just a silk babydoll – one he could easily lift for his pleasure. Gruff fingers rubbed the glassy texture of it before slipping beneath the light thing – gliding up your thighs to hold you by the fat of your ass.

He pulled you forward – tight – close enough for him to lick your collar and bite onto the strap on your shoulder – pulling it aside for him to suck your sweet little nipple into his mouth.

Your nails pressed smiles into your palms, looking down at him suckling new blotches into your sensitive skin as he rolled your nip between his teeth teasingly with a lusty growl – his hand making moves beneath the skirt of your nightie, grabbing his shaft and pushing it immaturely against your unprepped pussylips – forcing a kiss to your taut entrance before further driving himself inside you.

You couldn’t help the sounds now – whining out a pained moan into your gag as you doubled over against his chest, soon sobbing on his shoulder as he nudged himself nice and deep against your womb – fitting snuggly in your tight-knit walls.

He paid your wails no mind. Squeezing the soft flesh of your butt in his hand, with the other coming to join the action once more – digging his fingers into the supple flesh and making you rock back and forth on his lap – feeling as though he was ripping your hole apart.

“It’ feel better if you just got wet like you used to-” He said casually – fucking your dry cunt like he did your dry palms earlier. You don’t think it bothers him at all as long as it’s tight.

But soon, the slick started to form anyway, like it always did whether you wanted it or not – a protective maneuver your body conditions itself with to make the assault feel somewhat less miserable.

“There you go- now you’ll feel good, so stop your crying.” He cooed, raising a hand from beneath the tent of your dress, wrapping it in the hair at the back of your skull, forming a fistful of it – pulling you from his chest to lash your neck full of new lovebites.

He started making you hop now instead of riding – aiding you by the hand lifting your ass and the other pulling your hair. He jerked his own hips to meet you, slamming your poor cervix like a punching bag – he knows that’s how he makes your pussy cry boohoo, soaking his cock with pleasant warmth. 

A moan springs from your throat each time it runs you through – feeling it kick you in the stomach each time you slapped down on his lap – and soon you gushed in spite of it, abruptly halting your tempo before squirting violently – quaking in spasms, tits doing spins with him buried up to the hilt.

“That’s it- that’s my little whore-” He purred with a rumble in his chest, humming at the feel of your tight cunt fluttering from orgasm as you leaked sweet pussyjuice on his jeans. “Now, that’ll never get boring.”

He unraveled the fist in your hair and began petting your back, letting you slump back against his chest as he kept doing slow lifts with his hips to squeeze into you despite being swallowed down to the base – leaving your cunt now would just be a waste of a nice throttle.

“Since your mouth’s in a timeout, I think this pussy’s the winner of today’s load- fuck knows you deserve it after that.” He continued in a strained voice – the length of his cock desperately curling to make space for its whole length, stretching your gummy walls until they stung from the workout, making you buck your hips in revolt.

But he only took it as an eager approval of his comment. Leaving his prints on your ass with how hard he clawed his hand into it while his other arm hugged you tightly to his chest – keeping you seated and himself bottomed out as his cock sprung within in you, busting out thick hot ropes of cum deep inside the comfort of your tight cunt.

He held you there long enough to make the ache of it mellow out into a numb tickle – feeling just the warmth as he finally slumped out.

Face dewy, still with a taped x marking your lips. The pain had made you nearly chew right through the sock stuffed in your mouth, but now you just sucked on it – jaw lax from exhaustion where your head felt heavy, resting on his shoulder. 

He panted for a few minutes, sweaty hands rubbing circles into your equally slippery skin until announcing, “It’s almost dinnertime, huh?”

Your eyes kept blinking softly, feeling the slow trickle of cum leave your cunt along with wetness of your own, seeping out onto the softening cock keeping warm between your thighs.

You barely even jolt when his hand comes down on your ass in one of his kinder slaps.

“How ‘bout we untie those hands again so you can shimmy this little ass into the kitchen, hm? I’m starving.”

BNHA – Kirishima, Hawks, Bakugou, Natsuo, Dabi, Mirio, FatGum

JJK – Naoya

HQ – Ukai, Daichi, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa

[milykins]

TMNT Headcanon - When You Can't Sleep

Authors Note: I feel I need to clarify one thing. I’m aware that some people rely on marijuana to help with sleeplessness but I personally don’t use it so it’s unlikely to have a place in my writing. Recreational drugs in general won’t really be something I write about. Call me a straight-edge but I prefer leaving it out. I will write about alcohol usage since I do occasionally have a drink with friends.

Anyway, I actually have been having some rough nights lately so therefore we have this.

Individual TMNT x Reader

TW: Mentions of sex

You’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately. Lucky for you, you’ve got plenty of cure-alls. It all depends on who you ask.

Mikey

Your cuddly turtle boyfriend is no stranger to insomnia. Sometimes, the life of a ninja was too heavy, even for him and his upbeat persona. You knew Mikey could feel things a little too deeply and replay horrifying images continuously in his head. Over the years he’s developed some coping strategies. For you, he’ll offer you a melatonin gummy and something hot to drink. Tea, hot chocolate, or warm milk. If you still can’t sleep after that, he’ll stay up with you. He’ll cuddle you, rub your back, play some calming music… most of all, he’ll tell you that whatever this is, will pass. You might start panicking a little bit, telling him through tears that you’re afraid you’ll never sleep again, but he’ll assure you that you will. After all, no one died from a few sleepless nights. His gentle reassurances are just what you need to hear, and eventually you do drop off into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

Raph

Not nearly as tactful as his baby brother, Raph will bluntly offer to give you an orgasm. After all, that’s one of his go-to’s when he can’t sleep. Raph is actually the only one of his brothers to have a somewhat healthy sleeping schedule. Disturbing images, horror, and depressing stories just don’t hold a lot of weight for him. They still affect him, but he’s able to compartmentalize these things and drop off to sleep rather easily at night. He’ll still try to help you with your insomnia, though, like a good boyfriend should. If the offer of sex is turned down, he’ll offer a backrub – an innocent one, of course. No ulterior motive, he’ll promise. He’s very good with his hands and able to work out any knots, kinks, or stiffness, getting you very relaxed in no time at all. You might accept his offer for sex then, just because he’s been so sweet and patient, and given you an amazing massage. It works. In the afterglow, you’re asleep and cuddled up next to him, wrapped in his comforting embrace.

Leo

His first reaction will be concern, and he might pepper you with a few questions. Did you watch something disturbing? Is anything causing you stress or causing you to worry? Is it something he did? You quickly assure him he’s done nothing to cause it. You actually don’t know the reason; you just can’t shut off your brain for some reason. Upon hearing this, he’ll light some calming incense and offer you tea, of course. This blend will be a combination of valerian root, peppermint leaf, and a few others that promote wellness and sleep. True to form, he’ll also recommend meditation, except he’ll have you do it a little differently than you normally would. After your tea he’ll instruct you to lay down in his bed, get comfortable, and close your eyes. He’ll have you breathe deeply as he leads you through the most peaceful guided meditation you’ve ever experienced. It’s so relaxing that you have no trouble falling asleep after that. Leo will follow suit and be careful not to disturb you as he crawls in next to you.

Donnie

He is the worst about having a healthy sleep schedule. It isn’t because he has trouble sleeping, but because he has difficulty tearing himself away from his work. He just has to finish this one thing… or read one more paragraph. It’s never just one more paragraph with him. He usually needs to be coaxed to go rest, so it’s no surprise that he’s still awake in his lab when you quietly shuffle in after trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep for hours. Donnie will lose any and all focus that he had on his work and shift gears into helping you. He’ll shush all of your attempts to apologize for disturbing him and offer you a sleep aid. He’ll usher you to his bed and lay next to you, asking if there’s anything you need to get off your chest that may be inhibiting your ability to sleep. When you explain that you find it difficult to quiet your thoughts, he can definitely relate to that. He’ll put on some deep ambient music set at 432 Hz. He’ll explain that it’s the perfect frequency to promote relaxation, reduce tension, and support emotional wellbeing. It is what he uses to lull himself to sleep when he has a hard time reaching the coveted REM stage. The music works, and you find yourself finally slipping into rest. Donnie ends up falling asleep next to you as an added bonus. He really needed to stop working and go to bed anyway.

The End - Sleep Well Everyone

Taglist:

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @scholastic-dragon

I hope that's okay if I've tagged you! If you'd like to be added just let me know!

[animeyanderelover]

@yourusernames: Happy Death Day with the first years, Gojo, Sukuna, Nanami and Mahito?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, paranoia, overprotective behavior, clinginess, stalking, isolation, abduction, sadism, death

Happy Death Day

Itadori Yuji

🩷 Perhaps he should have given the thought of your death more thoughts. After all he has been thrown into a whole new world after consuming Sukuna's fingers. He now knows about sorcerers, about curses and about all the evil powers that want to harm other people. He knows that the world is even more dangerous than it seems...yet he has always forced the mere imagination of you falling victim to such powers at the back of his mind. There this tiny voice remained, gnawing at the back of his mind. He never wanted to consider your early death. And then he finds your corpse as a casualty of a curse attack. Silence, silence, silence..and then the voice that he has been keeping away starts screaming. It is a sound brimming with guilt, self-hatred, agony and pain. Its emotions flood his body as he can feel those gruesome emotions even in his bones. Yet Yuji just stands there in front of your corpse, every breath a visible struggle as his body starts shaking and his head starts hurting as his inner voice viciously blames him for this death. He should have done more for you!! Why didn't he...?

🩷 His day starts with a literal bang as he falls out of bed in his room and lands head first on the floor. That is how he wakes up but he needs a couple of moments before he even recognises his surroundings and has sorted his racing thoughts. The little bump on his head is barely something worth noticing for Yuji as he just sits up on the floor and just remains on the ground. He's sitting there, staring emptily in the air as he tries to come to terms with what he has just witnessed. Was that a dream? He isn't really sure. It all felt so long and realistic but then again, he remembers that he has read about some stories where people experienced something akin to what he has just gone through. He spends longer sitting on the cold ground than one would think until he eventually gets up. He tries to push it all away once again as he tries to tell himself that all of this must have been a dream. If only the date of today wouldn't haunt him so much, this would be easier.

🩷 The very first thing he does is calling you as soon as he is sure that you are awake by now and he is delighted and relieved when he hears your voice on his phone. You spend nearly an hour on the phone with him because every time you try to end the call, his heart feels like it is about to drop so he quickly thinks about something to keep the conversation going. It is because of his unwillingness, even fear to end this call that he winds up even telling you about his terrifying dream from last night. Then there is silence on your side for a while, a silence that unsettles him and fills him with a bad feeling. Is something wrong?? Your awkward laughter after a while doesn't sound so genuine to him as you tell him that he truly has scary dreams before you hurry to finish the phone call as you tell him that you have some errands to do right now. He only reluctantly ends the call, staring at the electronic device as he wonders if everything is alright with you. Something just felt off after he told you about his dream.

🩷  And then he finds your corpse as a casualty of a curse attack. Silence, silence, silence..and then the voice that he has been keeping away starts screaming. No...Why is this- How?! He grabs his phone as soon as he realises that he has fallen out of bed and is in his room, hastily dialing your number. This time he isn't considerate enough to wait until he knows that you are awake. He calls you again and again and again, growing more and more panicked as you don't pick up your phone. After minutes of trying to call you like a madman, you finally answer him. He wants to ramble and warn you yet hearing our soft sobs over the phone halts all of his actions. Why are you crying?? What is wrong?? Right now Yuji is so easily alarmed by everything which is why your sobs trigger a much more panicked reaction from him than what he would act like normally. Through your tears you confess to him that you have witnessed your own death twice by now and Yuji's heart stops when he hears your words. He's failed you. Twice. His grip on the phone tightens dangerously as he tries to hide the tremor in his voice. It should be fine if you just don't go there again. Just...just to be sure though, text or call him every 20 minutes.

Fushiguro Megumi

💙​Blood is staining the grass and what was once green and vibrant has turned into a sickly red color, marking the place of tragedy. A body is lying there, the red liquid surrounding their body like a twisted version of a halo. And standing above this body is Megumi, quivering pupils darting over your corpse and counting every bullet that pierced through your body. His heart is pounding against his chest and he is torn apart between overwhelming pain and indescribable wrath against those who committed such a crime against you. His Divine Dogs stand behind him, tapping from one paw to another as if sensing their master's emotions as they let out silent growls. He doesn't even know how long he just stands there and just tortures himself by staring at your corpse before he forces himself to move away from this place. His teeth sink in his bottom lip until he tastes blood as he tries to make up his mind about what to do now whilst trying to ignore the wails of his own bleeding heart. Every step further away from you only worsens the pain yet he does not have the courage to look back and see it it again unless he wants to risk a full meltdown.

💙​When he wakes up, he is drenched in sweat yet he finds himself unable to move. It feels like someone drapped a blanket made out of steel over his body which hinders his movements. He can't breathe properly, a weight resting on his chest that threatens to crush his lungs and ribcage. He feels a drop of sweat sliding down his temple as he slowly attempts to move again. With an abrupt and forceful jerk, he manages to gain control over his body and sits up. He buries his face in his hands, unsure if the liquid on his face is the sweat or tears he shedded whilst not being conscious. Everything around him feels surreal and unfamiliar as he can feel his paranoia seizing control. So Megumi stumbles to the bathroom and spends a few minutes there, splashing cold water against his face to gain some semblance of sanity again. When he glances up to look at himself in the mirror again, he stares into eyes that almost look like they're half-dead. Well, losing you would probably be equivalent to losing half of himself so he can't blame himself from looking like this.

💙​He visits you at a very early time on that day and you are quite surprised by that. You carefully try to tell him that you would rather spend your time alone today and Megumi notices that you seem to be weirdly on edge. Or is he just imagining things due to his increased paranoia? Nevertheless, he refuses to let you be alone just for today. He promises that it is just for today that he will glue himself to you. Suspicious, isn't it? Why does he appear to be so tense all of the time? You know that Megumi has always been a tad bit paranoid but today it seems to be especially bad as he looks at everybody as if they are his nemesis. It doesn't even take him half an hour before he feels like he's losing it and begs you to just stay with him in your house for today since you don't have anything important to do. You consider protesting but one look at his face tells you that going against him would be dangerous right now.

💙​His Divine Dogs guard the area around your home for that day whilst Megumi just spends the entire day with you in your room. You still notice his eyes darting to the windows and the doors as if he is afraid that someone will storm inside at any given moment. He is at least not as tensed up as he was when both of you were outside. You only try once to ask him if something is wrong but he refuses to tell you, the images in his mind unable to ever be conveyed into emotions that could describe the terror of it. He reluctantly leaves the house in the evening only to be met with both of his Divine Dogs standing there. Both of them have been able to pick up a scent that somehow was familiar to both of them and they thought that they should let Megumi know. They slowly lead the way and look back at him as if asking if he wants them to show where the scent leads. His eyes glance back at your house before he follows both of his shikigami. You probably wouldn't be happy if you would know what he is about to do. But bad people don't really deserve any mercy, especially not from him.

Kugisaki Nobara

🔨Nobara doesn't expect much from her darling as she is the type who tries to tone her obsession down. She is partially aware of her own feelings and she is a girl who prides herself in her level-headed and confident personality after all. All she ever asks of you is to tell her if you are in any troubles. That is all she has ever asked of you. So why did you have to be so stubborn and endure this all alone? She wasn't aware that you were dealing with a group of bullies, she didn't know that you had to go through such terrible experiences behind the scenes for so many weeks now. Not even your parents knew. You didn't want to be a bother. An accident was all it took, a hasty chase through Tokyo to escape your bullies only to end up being pushed onto the streets right under the wheels of a car. It is far too late for Nobara to do anything when your parents call her and inform her of what happened. Far too late as she curses you inside her head with clenched fists whilst hot tears stream down her face. You idiot! Why did you have to endure this all by yourself...?

🔨She is damp as she wakes up, a thin sheen of sweat that covers her whole body like a second skin. Kugisaki could do a lot of things as she lays there in her bed, wide awake. But instead she just lies there and stares at the ceiling before she finally pushes herself up and heads to the bathroom to take a shower. Her guard is definitely up though as she mulls everything she just witnessed over in her head. Something seems to be not right... It is a gut feeling that she has as she stares at the date shown on the screen of her phone. Was this all a dream? It just seemed too realistic for a dream. Then again though, as far as she can tell you are still alive as she texts you and you reply to her. But then again, it is still early morning and you died around noon as far as she can tell from her memories. Kugisaki is not playing it carelessly though as she chooses to take the safe side and tells you that she'd like to hang out with you for the entire day.

🔨When she visits you, she doesn't look like her usual self. She seems a tad bit more tired as if she didn't sleep well and she seems weirdly on guard as she spends her time with you. Perhaps it is the lack of sleep but she appears to be a bit more easily irritable although she quickly apologizes when she snaps at you accidentally. You do notice that her eyes are stuck to you the entire time though as if she is contemplating something and when you finally muster up the courage to ask her, she asks you a question that makes you nearly choke on the air. Are you hiding something from her? Are you being bullied? You do your best to keep your face from giving anything away but even if you try to reassure her, you can almost feel the suspicion being emitted from her as she just looks at you in a way that tells you that she doesn't buy what you try to sell her. You on the other hand have to wonder how she knows about this.

🔨It is whilst both of you are strolling through Tokyo that you completely freeze when suddenly the same students appear that have been giving you hell now for a while. The moment Nobara spots them though, her eyes instantly narrow as she quickly steps in front of you and glares at them. Are those your bullies? She hasn't seen their faces before as your mom only told her about them but judging from your reaction, they must be the right guys. She is brainstorming what to do now as she knows that she can't use her Cursed Energy against non-sorcerers. She can't hold in her temper though when one of them opens their mouth and starts badmouthing you. Suddenly she's spewing insults and threats as her face twists into one of scary anger. This causes quite the commotion as bystanders start looking at you which intimidates your bullies and causes them to leave. You feel partially embarrassed because everyone is looking at you now but Nobara doesn't care as she drags you away. She is so pissed that you never told her about this. Just take a backseat. Since you can't handle this situation, she will take over for you now.

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾​A human life is fragile, disposable, useless. Sukuna knows that as he has slaughtered thousands of those insignificant creatures during his long life. They are mere bugs who are just being trampled on by him without him giving them even a single thought. So the news of your death aren't a surprise to him. Killed by a low curse you couldn't even defeat despite always claiming that one day you would become a strong sorcerer. You were always good in spitting nonsense, weren't you? Such a dumb, little thing. So why do you keep lingering there in his mind and heart? Why do memories of you flash all the time in front of his eyes as if to remind him that he will never see you again? What a waste this is though. There he was considerate enough to spare your life and yet you dare to lose it by dying through such a weak curse. The more he thinks about it, the more resentful he grows. Didn't he demand you to live on that day you had the guts to confront him? Who do you think you are, wasting his mercy like this? He did not allow you to die. You can only die if he tells you to do so.

🗾​Perhaps it is this very same bitterness he starts feeling that transfers beyond just mere emotions as the King of Curses witnesses something truly fascinating. He feels it as he sits on his throne made out of bones and feels for the first time in his life true frustration over someone's death. He senses it but he isn't sure what it is at first. The air seems to tremble as his eyes dart back and forth, still in a bad mood about your death but also slightly curious about what is going on. Then suddenly his surroundings blur together, shapes melting into others and becoming indistinguishable blops of colors as even the ground beneath him seems to disappear. He's floating, with nothing surrounding him as he seems to exist in nothingness... Before everything turns back to normal again. It's almost like nothing ever happened but Sukuna knows better than to ever doubt his own senses. What just happened?

🗾​He can detect no sign of this mysterious phenomenon anymore as he observes the surroundings. Yet it is strange... He orders Uraume to tell him what day it is, fully aware that his servant won't ask any questions as they obediently fill him in on everything he wishes to know. They seem unaware of what just happened which makes him wonder if he was the only one who experienced it. His interest is caught as well as an idea is formed when he hears about you though. So you're still alive, hmm? There is a sinister grin forming on his face as he realises that he has traveled through time and that today seems to be your death day How amusing. He dismisses Uraume as he decides to use this chance. He doesn't doubt it for a moment that he is reliving right now a day that has already happened which means that you'll lose a fight against this curse again. Wasting his mercy like this again... Truly unforgivable. You really don't learn your lesson, do you?

🗾​You are in tears on the ground, blood staining your clothes as you struggle against the curse. Why can't you win? Are you really this weak? You thought that if you would at least consider your dream and take some precaution, you would have a chance. As that thing storms towards you in their final attack, you don't even have the courage to look your death in its eyes. Instead you just silently whimper out that you don't want to die again. You wait painful seconds for your death only to hear a chilling inhumane scream before you hear a thump behind you. When you dare to turn around, your blood freezes when you see Sukuna standing there who split the curse in half. He has an evil grin on his face as he looks at you, stepping over the corpse of the curse without even considering the thing. The air is tense as he leans down, his eyes observing you. You just said something quite interesting. Care to elaborate on what you meant? You are lifted up as if you are nothing, dangling above the ground as his fingers dig into your wounds to draw those painful groans from you. Look at you. You can't even defend yourself against a simple curse. He's not going to let you throw away your life like that.

Gojo Satoru

🩵Gojo Satoru. The almighty one. The honored one. The untouchable one. This is a man who stands on the top and who can get away with anything because he is the strongest one. No one can touch him, no one can defeat him. No one stands a chance against this monster of a man. But everyone has a weakness. Even Satoru has one. And the way to victory is by exploiting it. That is how you, a non-sorcerer, were stripped of your individuality and were reduced to nothing more than someone to exploit to defeat Gojo Satoru. Unfortunately you put up resistance and one wrong technique with Cursed Energy resorts in your death. And Gojo is too late to save you. The air is heavy, the tension unbearable as empty eyes that used to shine brightly whenever they gazed at you now rest on those responsible for your death. No words can be uttered nor can they be spoken as he doesn’t give them any time before using his Domain Expansion. Blood splatters everywhere, lives are mercilessly taken until only he remains. It’s done. As if a flip is turned around, the tears suddenly start falling. There’s no one to watch, no one to judge after all.

🩵You are special. You get to see a side that no one else gets to witness on him. You are able to see Gojo’s strongest as well as his weakest side. That’s how important you are to him. That’s how you wake up to him sobbing and crying quietly, shaky breaths hitting your skin and salty tears staining your neck and your shoulder. He doesn’t want to speak but he doesn’t need to speak either. You understand what he means when he presses his body against yours and his arms are locked firmly around your form. There’s still a spark of hesitation somewhere as you aren’t used to seeing such a vulnerable side to him. Nor have you forgotten that this is the man who has forced you to stay in this relationship when you desired to leave. But does it matter in this moment? No, it doesn’t. He tugs at your heartstrings with the next sob that escapes him and you finally cave in. You comfort him, almost coddle him and it is such an unusual switch of positions that Satoru eats up in this situation.

🩵He cranks his clinginess up to an unbearable level as soon as you get out of bed. Something about him has changed though. The cheeky and giddy grin is gone. The light atmosphere has vanished and his expression is one of lingering paranoia and fright. He seems almost more scared than you feel right now and you don’t know why. Satoru refuses to talk about it when you initially ask about it. He doesn’t want to speak it out. If he does, he feels like he is admitting that he has let you down. That he has failed you despite his confidence to protect you as he is the strongest. A part of him wishes desperately that this all was a cruel nightmare but another part of his brain somehow doubts that. Around you he isn’t as emotionally stable as he would be around everyone else though so soon he breaks down and tells you about the gruesome things he saw. Blue eyes look up at you to beg for comfort, for confirmation that this is a result of his own paranoia. Yet the look on your face shatters him only more.

🩵Hushed promises. Chaste and quick kisses. This is all he gives you before he locks you away and leaves you alone. You pound on the door for a while whilst begging him to let you out but you soon give up when you realize that he is gone. You have a good idea of where he is headed and what he is planning to do. You are too frightened to imagine it though. It’s not like you don’t resent those bastards either for what they did to you. It’s just that you know what Satoru is capable of. Now you are scared for those guys. You feel on edge as minutes pass by and this time you allow yourself this paranoia as both you and Gojo witnessed a very strange phenomenon. You don’t have to wait for too long though as Satoru soon returns. There isn’t a single stretch on him nor one drop of blood staining his clothes. He looks perfect as always. You know best though as you look him into his eyes and notice the gleam in his eyes. It’s unsettling. It scares you. But Satoru doesn’t care as he takes you in his arms. It’s done. You’re safe this time.

Mahito

🔷Mourning someone’s life is a concept that this curse has never really thought about. Mahito if at all is the one who causes other people grief. He is only following his nature after all as a curse. It is a privilege, a special right he has as a curse and for that he feels no guilt. You are no different. Through all the suffering that he causes you, he has never once felt bad for you. His kind is the embodiment of true feelings of humans after all. So go and blame them, not him. Yet all that fun and that disrespect towards others ends as someone does the very same thing that he has done to everyone else. Someone kills his darling in his absence and suddenly someone has taken his toy and his rights away from him. Just like a child he struggles to express his feelings that he feels. What is this weird ache in his heart? Why doesn’t it go away? As he is left grasping the weight of your death for his life, the first emotion he acts on is his desire for revenge as he disfigures and murders the humans who did this to you.

🔷You are woken up by two very displeasing things. The first one that fills your heart with terror is obviously your nightmare. Or at least you assume that it is one. The second one is Mahito who somehow has broken into your house. Again. He takes it upon himself to make sure that you are fully awake and that you notice him. For that purpose, he pulls at your ears, your cheek and crawls over your body lying in the mattress and shakes you impatiently. Until he sees that you are awake and glare at him angrily. He happily reacts to that adorable glare of you as he pinches your cheeks and gives you one of his silly and condescending grins. You try to sit up which is harder than normally due to him being right above you and of course as soon as he notices that you try to leave the bed, he has to make everything even more difficult for you by being in your way. Hands are roaming over your body and push you continuously back into the mattress as he relishes in this sight. You’re very alive.

🔷Mahito rarely has a good reason for you besides feeling like it and that is why you don’t even bother to ask him this question anymore. It is the same for that day too as he just pops up in the early morning hours. You don’t bother asking him for his reason to visit you and perhaps that is best. Mahito himself would struggle to convey his complicated reason for feeling like seeing you. He just wanted to see you being alive is the best he can come up with after the strange vision he had. He still doesn’t know what that was and thinking about it too much upsets him greatly for a reason he can’t name just yet. He just knows that he can distract himself wonderfully when he is around you so that is why he’s here. Because he can dismiss those unpleasant images then. That is at least until he has to open his mouth and taunt you with a teasing grin about what might happen if he would leave you now when you eventually do snap at him for following you constantly around. Your very visible reaction of terror stirs up confusion. This isn’t how you would normally react.

🔷You have a very hard time reading Mahito as you are forced to confess that you had the same experience as he had because he won’t leave you in peace until you tell him the reason for your unexpected reaction. You just know that he looks at you without even blinking. It is slightly unnerving. Then he breaks out into giggles and that sound gives you chills and it doesn’t take long before he breaks out into a maniacal laughing fit. Perhaps this is the only way he knows how to react and honestly, you didn’t expect much else. So that’s what is going on. This is quite interesting. He would love to question you further on what death felt like for you but he can’t fully concentrate. There is this agitating itch he feels whilst thinking about the people who murdered you. He feels the need to get rid of them first before he can then focus on you again. So he grabs your hand and drags you somewhere with a skip to his steps whilst already imagining the fun he’ll have. He’ll give you a good show.

Nanami Kento

💛Composure and Nanami have always been two words that fit seamlessly together. Indeed, it is this man’s calmness that has always been the best part of him. Sure, he tends to be a tad bit too controlling at times but you have never actually seen him ever just throwing away his composed exterior. But what if he would ever actually snap? Unfortunately you aren’t alive anymore when that moment finally arrives. Because it is your death that shatters the wall that has kept him from ever lashing out. You were attacked as well as killed by a sentient curse who scarred and deformed your corpse even after your heart stopped beating. Shoko leaves him alone when he hears the news and rushes to her as she can sense the brooding anger that will soon turn palpable. A part of Kento’s heart withers away when he sees your defiled corpse and wants to grieve. But he has no time for that. He can’t rest. Not as long as that thing is still out there and carelessly continues what it is doing. His anger doesn’t allow him to fall into proper grief until he has exorcised the curse who took your life.

💛Nanami is as quiet as possible when he opens his eyes and finds himself in bed next to you. Eyes that initially still hold a spark of wrath inside of them become tired and relieved when he senses and sees your warm body next to his own. He doesn’t want to wake you up so he just lays there, one of his hands gently tracing the curves of your body as he allows your own breaths to guide his racing heart into a calm rhythm again. He listens to the sound of your breaths for a long time before he closes his eyes again and lets the sound lull him back into sleep. That’s at least until your own breath suddenly picks up pace and sounds troubled. Instantly alarmed, Nanami leans closer to you as he pulls you closer to him. Worried eyes watch how your face furrows and he realizes quickly that now you are the one who seems to have a nightmare. He wakes you up by gently shaking you, his warmth and his voice surround you and comfort you as soon as you wake up, still frightened by what you saw.

💛It is safe to say that neither one of you got a good wink of sleep that night. You were unable to fall asleep since you woke up from your nightmare and Nanami had troubles getting any more sleep just as much. Not only because he sensed your own anxiety and distress the entire hours and spent his time comforting you but also because images of your defiled and shredded corpse would return to his head every time. So both of you are slightly tired when you eventually get up but he is less worried about his own lack of sleep and instead chooses to focus on yours. So Kento makes sure that you have a proper breakfast with enough vitamins and that you stay energized for the day. Maybe you should also go to bed earlier tonight if you start feeling tired during the day. Initially the day starts off as rather normal even if Nanami seems to make a tad bit more of a fuss over you than he normally would do. That is until you turn on the radio and the news are being announced. Nanami freezes in his tracks whilst you nearly choke on your beverage. Doesn’t this sound weirdly familiar?

💛All your plans on that day are cancelled. Partially because your own fear makes you too paranoid to have enough courage to leave the house and partially because Nanami forces you to do so. Both of you had a talk after you hastily turned the radio off at which point Nanami had already noticed your terrified expression. Both of you have memories that perfectly align with each other as well as the way this day is starting. And Nanami doesn’t believe in such huge coincidences. He has never been one to brush something off as a mere coincidence. Instead he asks from you to stay home for the day just to be on the safe side, although you swear that you hear him locking up the entrance door. You don’t try to confirm it though as you just spend your time inside, trying to take your mind off and not let your thoughts wander to dark places. Hours pass by before you receive a call from Nanami. It almost sounds like his breath is shaking with lingering rage as he questions you on what you have been doing before he tells you that he is on his way home now.

[awkward-tension-art]

Clone Force 99 (+ Howzer) S/O Cutting Hair to Escape

Random idea of the boys having an s/o with long hair and needing to cut it to escape. No this isn’t me projecting because I have long hair. Not at all. No projection here.

Tw: Gender neutral (I try to be inclusive of all readers), violence, hair cutting with knife, threats, brief mention of death, all of the boys being sweeties tbh

This isn’t proofread so I die like a man

“Are you willing to listen to my terms now?!” The Twi’lek had her fingers in your hair, pulling tightly. It hurt, badly. And she wasn’t alone. There were a couple of other criminals around. All their own blasters were pointed at either you or the man you loved.

You swallowed, staring directly at your lover. His blaster was steady. He had good aim, but was he confident enough to take the shot with you so close?

You had a knife, but the armor the twi’lek criminal wore was too thick.

But your hair wasn’t. In one swift movement, you slice the strands of hair she had gripped so tightly. Once you had ripped yourself away, taking her off guard, your lover took the shot.

Hunter

Once you’re in his arms safe and the threat has been taken care of, he’s pissed. Not at you, but at the fact that this happened to begin with. His senses should have detected the threat and he should have protected you. Instead, you nearly got hurt because he was distracted.

If you’re super upset about your hair, he’s going to try and be reassuring. You still look amazing to him, but he understands if your hair is important to you for whatever reason. He’ll wipe away any tears and just offer comfort for such a loss. Yea, it grows back sure, but that’s doesn’t mean it’s any less important to you.

Hunter will struggle to look at you for a while. Not because he thinks your impromptu haircut is ugly, he just blames himself for what happened. He feels guilty he let something like this happen and It reminds him that he failed you.

Even though he’s upset with himself that he allowed this to happen, he’s so understanding and comforting to you.

Echo

He’s gonna fret over you and make sure you’re not physically hurt. He’s apologizing for letting this happen and not thinking of something to get you out of the clutches of a criminal. Like Hunter, he feels some guilt over what happened.

Once he knows you’re alright, then he’s gonna be heart broken for you and your hair.

He loves your hair. He loves playing with it. And he knows how it’s important to you. Even if hair grows back, he knows what it’s like to have a part of you taken. So he won’t judge your tears or emotions over having to cut your hair in such a way.

He’ll hold you and comfort you, giving soft reassurances.

Though, once your hair does grow back, he’s gonna suggest maybe tying your hair up to prevent something like this happening again.

Tech

He’s panicking until he knows you’re alright. He checks you over for any wounds and once he sees that you’re not hurt, he’ll hold you close.

He kisses your forehead and doesn’t even comment on your hair. To him, you just did a very clever move to get away from a criminal. It’s a shame about the hair, but you’re alright and that’s what matters.

Tech isn’t unsympathetic, he just won’t fully know you’re upset until you say something. He’ll offer what comfort he can but he might not entirely understand why you’re upset. It’s just hair, and even if he finds your hair beautiful, it’ll grow back.

You’ll probably have to explain why your hair is important and why losing that large amount of it upsets you. Once you explain, he becomes more sympathetic. Later, he’s going to do some research for way to potentially help your hair grow faster.

While your hair is in the process of growing back he also researches ways to take care of it. Like special oils, soaps etc. he’s a sweetie that way.

Wrecker

Might be more emotional than you, to be honest. Like Echo and Hunter, he’s upset you were grabbed by a criminal. But the fact that you had to cut your hair to get free? He’s beyond upset.

He is in despair. Wrecker loves your hair so much. He loves to play with it. Help you style it. He even learned to braid just so he could braid your hair (and Omega’s)

As your hair is growing back, he pretty much showers you in compliments. He knows how much your hair means to you and he’s gonna do his best to make up for what happened.

Even when it’s short he’s still gonna play with it to be honest.

Crosshair

He holds you so so tightly when you’re free. Crosshair will be shaking so badly. His emotions hit him waves. First was fear. Then relief.

Then rage. Absolute rage.

You’re his love. And you were in danger. You were forced to destroy something important to you in order to get free.

He’d feel useless. Like he failed you spectacularly. And now you were forced to cut your hair because he was too slow to react.

His anger over your hair is in connection to how you feel about it to be honest. If you’re emotional over the loss, he’s out for blood against the entire criminal group that did this. But if, say, you’re minimally upset and move on quick, so does he.

You wore it long because you liked it long. So he liked it.

But, bright side, if you end up liking your hair shorter, he likes it too.

It’s your hair. So how you like it, he likes it. He’s a pretty simple guy like that.

Howzer

Surprisingly calm. Once you’re free, he’s holding you in one arm and using the other to shoot down the other criminals. Once they’re down, his focus is on you.

He’ll pet your hair and feel where it was unceremoniously chopped off. After a second he apologizes so softly for being unable to help you.

However, he won’t directly say anything about your hair other than ask how you’re feeling. If you’re upset, he’ll hug you, and reassure you that it’ll grow back. It just takes time.

To him, he honestly prefers shorter hair just on the basis of it being more practical for battle, but if you like your hair long, just like Echo, he suggests tying it up or styling it in a way that’s more battle friendly. He’ll even help you with it.

Bonus:

Omega (platonic obv)

She’s going to cut her hair. She sees her brother’s lover sad over their chopped up hair? Welp, you’re not the only one who had their strands butchered by a knife.

I’d imagine her brother and you return to the Marauder with cut up blonde strands littering the floor and her looking so proud with her….new look.

[brucewaynehater101]

About Tim's kill count: I think Tim tries really hard to be okay with murder. He's accepted that's something other vigilantes do, that sometimes it's the most practical answer. He knows that self defense is a thing, when it's you or them... Well, no one can be blamed for choosing themselves over a villain. He is the smart, logical Robin. He can be rational about murder. Stars know someone has to, and B is too much of an emotional mess when it comes to that particular subject.

So when Tim has to blow up Ra's bases, he tries really hard to be okay with it. He gave them a three minute warning (it's not much, but he knows how fast they are), so technically it's not like it's his fault if they decided to stay. He had to do it, it wasn't even just self defense, he had a civilian hostage to take into account. It was the only logical solution that allowed him to save Batman too. So yeah, he knows his reasoning was completely sound despite the circumstances. Honestly, he deserves Kudos for not losing it considering the amount of stress he was under and the fact he nearly died and lost an organ.

So yeah, he is pretty sure he's okay with it. He knows that if Batman ever truly catches up un his RR reports of that time he's not gonna be happy. He figures he can deal with that (he can't, he can barely deal with his own guilt. Deep down he knows he'll collapse like a wet napkin).

But instead of Batman the one to confront him is Jason having heard from Talia or finding the evidence on an outlaws' mission. And Tim is relieved because this should be easy. Not only is he a master manipulator: Jason is okay with murder, extremely emotional and still feels guilty about Titan's Tower. He's not even on talking terms with B. Tim has the upper hand in this encounter.

Cue to Jason's pov and it's just so painfully obviously that Tim is trying to rationalize the guilt away. Jason doesn't know whether to acknowledge it (the kid looks like he needs to actually talk about it, sue him) or to let him be delusional for a bit longer. He isn't the biggest expert on healthy but that doesn't look like it.

Tim succeeds in getting him to promise he won't tattle to Bruce, and is really proud of himself for handling the situation. Jason is now panicking thinking about what would Bruce do if he finds out (Tim doesn't know the extent of Batman's reaction to Jason killing at first).

(I got a little carried away with the idea of Tim being convinces he's okay with murder and Jason, who is pro murder for certain people, seeing right through him like "Oh honey")

Oh!!! I've seen some fics that cover what would happen if the Bats found out about Tim's kill count or the bases, but I haven't really seen ones with dark/abusive Bruce.

Tw: abuse, murder

Here's what I'm thinking:

Jason is fantastic for being the first to find out. He'd be supportive, understanding, and non-judgemental. He'll have no moral issues with murder. Perhaps he could have some mental breakdowns on the fact his younger brother had to resort to that or the high number of deaths or that someone younger than him had to stain their hands (which could also lead into him finally processing Damian's kills as well), but he wouldn't have any issues with Tim commiting murder.

Then we contrast that with Dick. He doesn't blame Tim. He's fiercely protective of his brother and will beat up anyone who gives Tim shit for it. On the other hand, he does have moral issues with murder. He'd probably have an internal debate with himself. He wants to support Tim, but the kid killed so many people (in this AU). Tim killed in self-defense. Dick has a particular understanding due to his time as a cop, but his vigilante rules have always contrasted with his cop ones (not just killing. Breaking laws, how civilians are treated, who your "allies" are, and whether you can trust your coworkers to do what's right). He's devastated that Tim was in that position and blames himself (maybe even takes those deaths upon his own moral conscience).

Both of them love, care, and support Tim in this. They also have very different ideas about murder.

Tim is also trying very hard to deny to himself how much death is actually on his hands. He's struggling to pretend he's fine and trying to logically convince himself that the deaths are acceptable.

In this AU, Bruce obviously flips the fuck out and acts like a piece of shit. Feel free to hc how far he takes that shit.

However, this has important ramifications against Damian. Whatever his feelings are about Tim at this point, watching his father abuse a kid he adopted (and considers his own) for the sin of killing? For self-defense? What if Damian ever kills again? Would Bruce react the same? What if there was no other choice? Also, does this mean that his father will never truly love him? Will his past always be held over Damian's head? Will Bruce ever forgive him? Is his father's love conditional? To add on, Damian has complicated feelings about LoA as well. He'd need to process the extreme destruction Tim enacted against the LoA. Just Damian having mental breakdowns.

Cass's confliction with murder and her love for Tim could also be added into this. I don't know much about the arc where she becomes a villain, but that would add to her turmoil.

Now, Alfred is a confusing one. How dedicated is he to Bruce? Is this the characterization where he sasses the man, not so subtly hides his guns around the Manor, and will stand up to the man? Or is this the one who will follow Bruce's lead even if it means psychologically torturing his grandkid? Is he somehow both at the same time? Can the kids trust Alfred to protect them or choose them over Bruce?

Babs would be protecting Tim (and the others in their support of Tim) to the best of her ability. In my mind, she's chill about murder due to her dad being a cop and her working with murderers (like Harley). She'd run interference to protect Tim until Bruce finds out, and then she'd be trying to get him away from Bruce.

Anyways, I'd love to see all of the characters, their feelings/experiences, and the conflict expanded on.