#until my vocal cords don’t work and i can rip them out

[identittie-crisis]

wish i could scream into a pillow but that only works for deep screams and not the bloodcurdling high pitched screams that would make people think i’m danger

[zialltops]

Can we have a teeny tiny little crumb of h&h? I miss them! I hope your healing up and your thumb is feeling better!

Were so close to the next chapter being done! My thumb is feeling alright but last Thursday I changed my coworkers tire and completely crushed my finger. I mean, my skin “popped” for lack of better words, in three different places and well, whatever was inside my skin was evicted. The nail bed was completely destroyed and it’s currently falling off. The tip of my finger (about a cm of skin) just fell off last night. On the plus, my stitches comes out soon and i still have (most of) my finger!

My body has been put through the ringer this last week and a half! I had my whole chest tattooed last weekend and from mid stomach to under-boob was done Saturday. (A combined eighteen hours of tattooing 😭) but boy oh boy do i feel and look like a bad ass 🤣

Anyways, enough about me. Lets talk about these two idiots.

“She’s just cryin’ for me, ain’t she, Honey?” His drawl sounds like sweet tea on a hot summer afternoon, like your sight set on the Austin sunset from the seat of a old saddle, driving cattle through tall grass and endless horizons.

Being touched by Joel Miller feels like coming home.

He finds a steady pace, working his fingers in and out, each drag punctuated by the ridges of his knuckles and the rough pads of his finger tips. Just faintly, you can make out the obscenely wet sounds it makes every time he fucks his fingers into you intentionally. It’s instantaneous the way heat blooms in your pelvis, knotting up in your stomach until you’re so overwhelmed, you’re trembling in his grip. “She’s so fuckin’ greedy, pretty little cunt needs to be stuffed, don’t she? G’damn, you’re quiverin’—you gonna cum f’me already?” His words are like a dirty secret, never meant to be revealed—knowing exactly what kind of storm that truth would bring. Let the rain pour down, let the thunder crack and the gusts rip the apprehension from your bones—because Joel Miller wants you and you’ve been begging for this moment for two years.

You’ve imagined this a million times, slipped your fingers between your legs to the mere idea of this revered and dignified southern gentleman—more once you’d put a face to the elusive cowboy. No matter how deeply you lost yourself to your imagination, none of it will ever amount to the way cold brick feels against your exposed back, the way denim jeans ruffs up the insides of your smooth thighs, the way a felt Stetson bumps against your temple when his fingers curl against a spot inside of you no man has ever found, dragging the air from your lungs, robbing your vocal cords of their melody.

[allylikethecat]

Ooo can I ask for gatty #49?

Hi! Thank you so much for sending in this prompt! I'm sorry it took a few days for me to finish! This entire Kiss Prompt situation was so much fun and I really enjoyed working on them! I hope this is what you were looking for and that even if it wasn’t you still enjoy it! I had surgery to correct a deviated septum a few years ago and have thus decided to give Matty the same ailment. 

❤️Ally 

Kiss…out of necessity

“I’m scared,” Matty said, looking up at George with wide, wet eyes. His curls, grown longer during the break, had been french braided and tucked under a surgical cap to keep them out of the way during the procedure. He was fiddling with the tape on the back of his hand and George reached forward, covering Matty’s hands with his own, lest he rip out the catheter and make a break for it. He was honestly impressed that Matty had held it together this long. 

George had thought he was going to be in for a fight, that he would have to physically drag Matty into the car that morning. But instead, he had made his way into the kitchen wearing a pair of black joggers and a zip up hoodie, hair braided, and his jaw set with determination. He had nodded once when George had asked if he was ready to go, and had followed him wordlessly out to the car, messing with his phone, changing the song playing through the stereo every few notes as George drove them to the hospital.  

“I know,” he said softly, flipping Matty’s hand, the one with the catheter, over and raising it to his lips to press a kiss to his palm. Matty blushed and dropped his gaze to the pastel blue blanket covering his lap. He wondered why everything in the hospital was always blue. Blue hospital gown, blue blankets. He would have thought white- easier to bleach, or black, easier to hide the stains. George intertwined their fingers and gave Matty’s hand a squeeze before letting it drop back down to his lap. 

“I’ll be right here, with you the whole time, until they tell me I can’t be anymore,” George said, “and then I’ll be right here waiting for you when you wake up.” 

“Do you promise?” Matty asked, his voice wavering. “Because I’m really fucking scared.” 

“Think of how much better you’re going to feel,” George said, “maybe not right away, but in a few weeks? You’ll be able to breathe better, and no more sinus infections, no more migraines.” 

It had been a shock to discover, at thirty four years old, that Matty had a deviated septum and that was the cause of his near chronic sinus infections. He had stared at the doctor in shock initially, not believing the diagnosis. He was a singer. How had no one else noticed that structurally, his nose wasn’t put together properly until now? They said it might even be the cause of his migraine disorder. Corrective surgery was scheduled for the next break in their schedule. The date had come sooner than Matty had expected, and now he was sitting in a hospital bed, George by his side in pre-op. 

“What if,” he hesitated, looking down at his lap again. There was a loose thread on the blanket they had given him, it had been warm from the dryer when they wrapped him in it, but it didn’t matter, he was still trembling. “What if, what if I don’t wake up?” 

“You will,” said George with full confidence, causing Matty to smile, a quick up turn of his lips despite himself.

“What if it ruins my voice?” Matty asked quietly, and there it was, thought George, the root of Matty’s fear.

“They’re not going to be anywhere near your vocal cords,” George said soothingly, rubbing his thumb back and forth against Matty’s sweaty palm.

“But-” Matty started, thinking of how in the pre-op appointment they had gone over all of the risk factors, of the general anesthesia, of infection, and the footnote that some patients experienced a change in voice. 

He had been quiet on the drive home from the doctor’s office, holding onto his packet of information like it was the only thing grounding him in the passenger seat of the car. He hadn’t even connected his phone to the CarPlay, instead listening to the radio as he stared blankly out the window, pressing his forehead against the glass. George had asked if he wanted to talk about it, if he had any more questions he wanted George to reach out with, knowing that Matty often got overwhelmed and shut down when it came to medical matters. But Matty just shook his head. Don’t really have a choice but to do the surgery. He had said ruefully, and the subject was dropped, other than the surgery date being circled, on the white board calendar George insisted on in the kitchen because it reminded him of his childhood, in red.    

“No buts,” said George, “you have the best ear, nose and throat surgeon in the UK doing the procedure, she said you’ll be in and out, ninety minutes max, and that once the swelling goes down, you’ll be able to breathe.” 

Oh no, thought George, taking in the glassy sheen to Matty’s eyes. He was about to start crying. George couldn’t have that, couldn’t have Matty going into surgery crying in fear. Without thinking, George leaned forward and pressed his lips to Matty’s. He made a soft noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, reaching up to cup the back of George’s head, pulling him closer while being mindful of the tubing connecting the catheter in his hand to the hanging IV bag. 

George licked into Matty’s mouth, deepening the kiss, pulling a soft whine from his throat before biting down gently on Matty’s lower lip, knowing it would drive him mad. It had the desired effect because Matty’s other hand came up to wrap around George’s shoulders and in a shocking show of strength that George still couldn’t get used to, Matty yanked him forward, nearly pulling him over the railing of his hospital bed. It was crazy, thought Matty, losing himself in the taste of George, that they had been together, for as long as they had and George was still able to drive him wild, still able to turn him on with something as simple as a kiss, even if it was coated in filth. 

A shrill beeping sound echoed through the room, and Matty and George jerked apart, just as the curtain was pulled back and a young, stressed looking nurse stared at them with wide eyes. Matty flushed, realizing it was the heart monitor he was hooked up to that they had just set off. She looked from Matty and then to George, taking in George’s disheveled appearance, their flushed cheeks, Matty’s swollen lips, and the way he had pulled his knees to his chest, his hands in his lap. She nodded to herself.

“Okay, so you’re not seizing,” she said looking at Matty with a knowing smirk. “The anesthesiologist will be by shortly,” she said. They could read between the lines. What she really meant was keep it in your pants.

Not waking up from his surgery was sounding better and better, Matty thought, turning to glare at George as soon as the nurse was gone. 

“Was that really necessary?” he hissed, pretending to be more angry than he really was. 

George chuckled. “It seemed to have calmed you down,” he said, “so yes, it was necessary.”

Matty looked down at his crotch. “I don’t think any part of me is calm.” 

[knightofnightmoo]

Welcome to Glance.

His Death.

The walls shudder ever so slightly as the wind outside blows in  a harsh tantrum. Pattering from the rain permeates the dark, silent house. Animals hidden in the barn and crops flapping around from the storm. Doors and windows locked and sealed. The boards over the windows creak. The day’s work and repairs run through his mind as he sits in the rocking chair with his shotgun on his lap. The chair groans and whines as he rocks and waits patiently. Not even a glint of light, besides the lightning outside, touched a corner of the inside. None was needed. Too much light may allow it to find him.

Time always seemed to slow on nights like this. Always agonizing. But he can’t risk it. Not after what happened to Pa. His mind jolts to attention as heavy steps hit the porch. Seems it has decided to come to the front this time. Screechy laughter hisses from the creature. He stands up slowly. His grip on the gun tightening as he lifts it to the door and follows it to one of the windows. Flashes from outside allow him to see those all too familiar eyes. Each gleamed dark and pupiless. Its mouth filled with an unimaginable amount of teeth. Sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone like it were chewing gum. The grey, almost human skin dripping from the pour. Devland doesn’t move any further. His focus completely on the creature. Claws fall slowly down the window. The sound rivaling the thunder. Devland’s shoulders stiffen.

Don’t move. Don’t give yourself away. It didn’t get you last time. It won’t succeed. Ever. Again.

This stalemate continues until light hits the window and seeps through the cracks between the boards. 

It’s gone. Did the rain stop?

He lowers his gun and lets out a shaky breath. His steps swift and as light as he can manage. Checking outside his eye graze over the wet grass and soaked porch and blood. Blood? Against all instincts and common sense he fumbles to unlock the door and swing it open. The slam of his heart falling into his stomach makes him freeze in the doorway. Damp morning air and a strong supplement of blood fills his nose and the home. 

Tears blur his vision. Blurs the scene. If only it could blur the pain. The tearing of his heart. The tearing of his vocal cords. His arms wrap around his cold lifeless body. His once perfectly warm and comforting body. Blood tainting his clothes. His hair. His face. That’s why it had gone quiet. That’s why it did so little. He should’ve listened. He should’ve. 

Ash circles about in the air as the fire crackles.

“You did warn him dear.” Her voice shakes with age, “Make sure you bury all his bones please. We don’t need the dogs getting ahold of them.”

His silence is all she needed to start her way back to the house. Once the hole was deep enough Devland climbed out and watched the flames cook and burn. 

The sun starts to say its goodbyes as Devland passes the stone marked with a knife the engravings read, “Here Lies Harvey Yavall. Blessing from the Gods and keeper of my heart.” 

Within the week word spread like a virus through their small town. 

“Heard it ripped ‘im limb from limb. ‘Course I know what I’m talkin’ about!” 

“Did you hear the tourist got eaten? I know. Should’ve read the warnings.”

“I saw Dev sitting on his porch all week after 6pm! It’s like he’s asking for it to come back!”

Can never escape their eyes and questions for very long. Information about an attack always seems to make its way from friends to the bars and storekeepers. Tourists are known to disregard the posters and concerned warnings. Normally costing precious, sentimental belongings, eyes, legs, lives. Depends on what they run into. They all knew the newest tourist was going to meet one of the supernatural residents at some point or another. It's always the reporters and journalists who stick their noses too far and find the consequences they were told to avoid. It doesn’t make it hurt any less for Devland though.

His drinking habits and risky nightly behaviors made the residents conclude he may have finally snapped. Finally started following in his father’s footsteps.

[bullshxtvixen]

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Pairing: Atsumu x Reader

Word count: 3.8K

Song: Lost the game - Two Feet 

Warnings: 18+, spanking, jealous/possessive, hair pulling, spitting, ass play, rough sex, edging, overstim, mirror fuck and degradation.

A/N: This is a part of the first ever Haikyuu Headquarters server collab! The prompt for this one was mirror fuck! If you want to read the rest of the fics, the masterlist can be found here, it’ll will be going live in a couple of hours!!

Shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing and @deathcab4daddy for beta reading this for me! Be sure to check out their blogs 💕

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You knew you shouldn’t have done it. You should’ve pushed the guys hand off you as soon as he dared to put it on you in the first place, but when you’d met those familiar chocolate eyes across the room that held barely contained anger, you couldn’t stop the smirk that formed on your face, so instead, you’d smiled up at the stranger and allowed him to keep his sweaty palm on you. 

From the other side of the room, Atsumu quietly seethed in his anger. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man with his hands all over you, and seeing you not only letting some creep leave his hand on the small of your back, but to have you smirk at him as well...well that was something he wasn’t going to let you get away with.

He was going to show you exactly what happened when you let another man touch you.

You were his and only his.

That’s exactly how you found yourself in your current situation, with him forcefully pinning you to the wall of the hotel room you were staying in, the expensive dress he’d bought you bunched at your waist while his fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs, securing them tighter around his waist as his hips trapped you in place.  Hot breath caressed your neck as he trailed sloppy kisses along your jaw, stopping to nip at your ear lobe.

A whine left your throat at the feel of his teeth against your skin, your breath already beginning to come in heavy pants as you moved your hips against his, seeking any kind of friction against your clothed heat.

“Such a dirty slut for me, aren’t you, baby?” Lips dragged against the side of your face, his voice low and laced with need, “do you think he could drive you this wild without even touching that greedy cunt of yours, huh?” He gave a sharp thrust of his hips to accentuate his point, earning him a moan as your head fell against the wall, your mind clouding with lust. 

“I bet it’s already dripping for me, isn’t it, princess?” Teeth sank into the soft flesh of your shoulder as he ground his hips harder against your wet heat, crushing you further between the solid contours of his body and the wall.

“Answer me. Now.” Another hard thrust, another bite, this time to the side of your neck.

“Unnn~ fuck. Yes, only you make me this way, ‘sumu. Just you~” the need in your voice was obvious as your hands trailed up his neck, fingers fisting into his hair, tugging his lips to yours so you could taste him. You sucked on the tip of his tongue before he took control of the kiss, teeth clashing against teeth as you blindly clawed at each other, trying to bring yourselves closer together. You couldn’t help yourself, he was addictive and you wanted all of him.

When he pulled away to catch his breath, you used the moment to claim his bottom lip, dragging it between your teeth as you pulled back to meet his eyes, a look of mischief flashing across your gaze.

“I know you were just using him to make me jealous, baby girl,” he dropped your legs, instead wrapping a hand in your hair and giving it a quick tug, forcing your head back so that you had to look up at him as he towered over your frame. The pain in your scalp only added to the desire that was building in the pit of your stomach, your panties becoming slick with your arousal. You smiled innocently up at him, but he was well aware you were anything but. “I’m going to show you exactly who you belong to. You got that, y/n?”

You nodded despite the large hand that still gripped your hair.

He released his hold on you and in seconds your dress was ripped down your legs along with your damp underwear, leaving you to gasp as the cool air of the AC licked your skin, goosebumps erupting all over your naked body.

He paused for a moment, taking a second to admire your form before him. When you’d first met Atsumu, you’d been insecure of the way your body looked, but whenever his eyes raked over you the way they were doing now- filled with such a burning hunger that your skin felt like it was on fire- any trace of insecurity was turned to ash before it could fully form inside your mind.

He reached a finger out to delicately brush a lock of hair away from your collar bone, your body shivering under the light touch as he allowed his fingertip to trail across your chest.

“So beautiful… and all mine.”

You didn’t have a chance to blush at the compliment before he threw you over his shoulder and made his way towards the bedroom. Your legs clenched as the thought of him fucking you into the mattress flashed across your mind, but he didn’t stop when got to the bed.

“‘Sumu, what are y-“ his hand came down hard on your ass, cutting off anything else you had to say. Your walls clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled as your body began to heat up in anticipation.

He made his way into the spacious bathroom- white marble glistening all-around- before placing you on the floor, backing you up against the countertop, an arm on either side of you. You wasted no time in ripping his shirt open, buttons flying as his lips crashed down on yours, forcing your mouth into submission.

As he shrugged out of his ruined shirt, tossing it to the floor, you made quick work of removing his belt, adding that to the pile on the floor, before your fingers fumbled with his trousers, unwilling to remove your lips from his but still desperate to dispose of the last items of clothing keeping his body from your view.

Once they were undone, you reluctantly left his lips, yanking the trousers down along with his underwear in one smooth motion. He quickly kicked them to the side, discarding them with the rest of his clothes.

Heat pooled between your thighs as you took in the sight of his cock. 

It stood flush against his toned stomach, the swollen purplish head leaking precum that dripped down, following the vein that ran down the length of his shaft before splitting in two. Your tongue came up to coat your lips at the sight; it always rubbed against your walls in the most intoxicating way.

He smirked when he caught you staring, watching as your tongue disappeared back between your kiss-swollen lips. He was going to make that pretty little mouth of yours scream his name until your vocal cords were raw, the thought making his cock twitch.

Taking his cock in his hand, he languidly stroked his length, thumb capturing the precum and smearing it all over his throbbing cockhead. He didn’t miss the way your eyes followed his every move.

“Like what you see?” he chuckled, spinning you around so that you were facing the large mirror that ran from the top of the counter all the way to the ceiling. You watched his reflection as he brought his lips to your ear, so close that his breath brushed against the side of your face, “of course you do, you little slut, I bet you’re aching to have me fuck that needy little slit, aren’t you?”

The words made your legs clench together his voice saturated with lust as his hips pressed into yours, his cock slipping between your thighs. Your head fell forward as his length ghosted between your slick folds, a content sigh escaping your throat at finally having him so close to where you were aching for him.

“Ah ah ah, I don’t think so,” a hand came from behind, calloused fingers wrapping around your throat, forcing your head up. Your nipples hardened as your eyes met his heated stare in the mirror, his tongue peeking out to wet his full lips, “eyes on me, princess. You’re going to watch me have my fun with this naughty body of yours.”

With his free hand, he took one of your pebbled nipples in rough fingers, rolling it between the thick digits as his hips began to gently rock into you. Within seconds, your slick coated his length, making it easier for him to slip between your folds, allowing the head of his cock to nudge against your clit with every movement of his hips. It sent shocks of pleasure straight to your core that had the coil in the pit of your stomach start to tighten.

“I’m going to make you cum just like this.” At his words he quickened his pace, the friction created earning him your mewls of approval as your hips grind down against him.  Each brush of his cock brought you closer to the release you so badly needed.

He was so close, so warm, as his body moved against yours. In your quest for release, you reached back, digging your nails into the side of his ass, pulling him closer. You were desperate for more of him and he knew you’d submit to his every need if he dangled the promise of pleasure in front of you.

Wanton moans fell from your lips as his free hand trailed down your body, stopping only to rub teasing circles against your swelling clit. It wasn’t enough pressure to make you cum, no, he wouldn’t let you just yet, but it was enough to torture you by hovering your release just outside of your grasp.

“‘Tsumu, please, i ne- fuck. I need to cum, please just unnnn- let me cum.” He loved it when you begged like that, the sound of your voice so full of desire made his cock throb between your legs while you continued to murmur soft pleas for your climax under your breath.

The cunning smile of his face as you watched him in the mirror told you that this was all a part of his plan.

Fucking arsehole.

He was teasing you, getting his own back for what you’d done. He wanted you to beg for it. He knew how much you needed him, he could feel your tight little hole clenching around nothing, enticing him to impale you on his length.

“Please ‘Tsumu, please, please please.” Another plea.

“You going to cum without my cock inside you like a good little slut?” He knew it was a pointless question, you’d do anything he asked if it meant you got to cum, he could probably ask you to let him fuck your ass right now and you’d willingly spread your cheeks for him.

You nodded anyway, unable to form words as his hips pressed harder into you, the edge of the marble countertop biting into your pelvic bone. You didn’t care. You just wanted to cum. The pain only added fuel to the liquid fire growing inside of you.

“What, princess, I don’t think I heard you?” he met your eyes in the mirror, the reflection of your own hunger evident in his.

“Let me cum all over your fat cock, ‘Tsumu, I need it, p-please. I’m so close.” Your head swam as your climax crept upon you, your body ready to give into it.

His movements were brought to a screeching halt just as you were inches from falling over the edge of the abyss.

He stepped back, removing his hands from you as he glared down at you in the mirror. Through the hair that’s fallen into your face, he could make out the anger filling your eyes as the fire within you ebbed. You hated when he denied you your orgasm, he’d done this to punish you and you’d fallen into his trap thinking he’d give it to you so easily after what you’d done.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you cum so easily after that stunt you pulled earlier, did you?”

That bastard. You were going to wipe that cocky smirk right off his face.

He realised what you were going to do immediately, so you’d barely moved an inch before his calloused hand forced you flush against the counter, his body covering yours, as you hissed at the cold marble coming into contact with your nipples.

“Eyes on me.” It was an order. You found his gaze in the mirror, his face hovering next to yours while breath tickled your ear as he spoke.

“I’m going to fuck you now, and I’m not going to hold back. I’ll have you screaming my name as I pound that tight little cunt of yours so hard that you’ll never forget who you belong to ever again.” He pulled back, his hands moving to grip your hips keeping you pressed against the counter. “You better keep your eyes on the mirror as I fuck you, princess, or you’re not going to like what happens.”

Logically you should’ve listened to the threat in his voice, it warned you not to push him, but you were still so worked up from your denied orgasm that you didn’t even think before the words spewed from your mouth.

“Or what?”

He grinned.

“Or this.”

He brought his hand down on your ass cheek with such force that your whole body jolted from the impact. He watched the blood rush to the surface of your skin, forming a perfect imprint where he’s struck you. 

Marking you in any way always sent a sick thrill up his spine and he noticed the way your legs clenched together when his hand met your skin. You got off on this just as much as he did, it was why you were grinding your ass against him, hungry for his cock to fill you up. Such a needy little thing.

He brought his hand down on your other cheek, matching the same force he’d used on the other. A groan left your lips as you bathed in the burning that flashed across your rear, it mixed with the pleasure that still flowed through your body, begging to be released after you’d been denied, turning into a cocktail of desire that was ready to burn through you. 

“You ready, princess?”

It didn’t matter, in a split second, he was pulling your hips back to meet his, burying himself to the hilt inside you with one hard thrust, balls slapping against your clit as you tensed in his hold. 

Your moans mixed with his, filling the bathroom as you savoured the feeling of finally having him inside you, stretching your cunt painfully wide. Your body twitched as your walls clenched around his cock, trying to suck him in deeper.

“Did you cum just from me putting my cock in you?” Your body was vibrating as you found his gaze in the mirror, his eyes cast down to where you were both connected. “Fuck, princess, I think that’s a new record.”

“Let’s see if you can hold the next one in a little longer, huh?” 

Then, he was moving, pulling almost all the way out before sheathing himself fully inside you again. He did this a few more times, watching himself disappear between your folds every time. It caused the knot in the pit of his stomach to tighten. It wasn’t enough though, not enough to make you remember that you were his.

In and out he went, losing himself in your body with each thrust. The sound of his balls slapping against you filled your ears as he worked your body up to another orgasm, remnants of your last one still flowing through your body.

Your fingers clawed aimlessly at the countertop, trying desperately to find purchase as he stretched your walls to their limits. He was relentless, slamming his hips into you with such force that it was hard for you to breathe. The cold marble beneath you suddenly felt good as your body grew hotter and hotter. 

This was how he loved seeing you, submitting to him as he fucked your brains out.

You yelped when you heard him spit followed by the feel of his saliva hitting the base of your spine. His thumb collected it and moved to brush against your pucked hole, the tight ring of muscle shrinking away at the feel of something foreign against it. 

That wouldn’t do.

He slowed his movements, choosing to focus on your untouched hole. You tensed at the feel of him spreading his saliva around the area before gently pressing against your hole. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, just unusual. He paused, meeting your eyes in the mirror. 

Permission. He wanted your permission before he went any further, this was territory you were yet to explore.

He got his answer when you pressed back against him causing the tip of his thumb to slip past the rim. A sigh fell from your lips at the sensation, even though it was barely inside you, you were immediately overcome with a sense of fullness.

“Please, ‘Tsumu, more.”

He obliged, easing his thumb in the rest of the way. A growl forced it way out of his throat as both of your holes clenched around him. 

Your jaw went slack as he slowly circled his thumb while his cock massaged your walls. It wasn’t like anything you’d felt before, the fullness made you shiver in delight and when he began to ease his thumb in and out your ass, you knew that it wouldn’t be long before you came again.

“Princess, you have no idea how fucking hot you look with me stuffing both of your holes, fuck, I wish you could see how well you were taking me right now.”

You didn’t need to see, you could feel it as you stretched around him, taking everything he could give. That fire in the pit of your stomach was roaring now as he filled you completely.

“I want you to scream for me now, baby girl, then I’ll fill you with so much of my cum that it’s going to be dripping out of you for days.” His words got the reaction he wanted.

At the promise of being filled with cum, you forced your hips back to meet him, thrust for thrust, each one knocked a little more breath out of your lungs. This climax already felt different from the last and as it crept its way to the surface, you weren’t sure you could handle the intensity of it.

“Atsumu, I can’t… It’s too muc- AH!” the hand that had been gripping your hip had found its way back to your hair, pulling your head back so your face was in full view for him to see in the mirror. You watched as thick muscles rolled beneath his skin with his every move, the impact and speed of his cock ploughing into you made your toes curl while your breath caught in your throat.

“Say. My. Name.” Each word ended with a bruising thrust.

“ATSUMU.ATSUMU.ATSUMU, FUCK, ATSUMU,YES, FUCK ME, PLEASE.” you were vaguely aware of the words leaving your mouth as you screamed them, but you had no idea if they were coherent. You didn’t care, your body was being engulfed by the flames of your desire; it burned through you while you watched your face contort in pleasure in your reflection. Sweat coated your forehead as a heavy blush settled across your face, your tongue lolling to the side as your cunt clenched around the cock still burying itself inside your walls.

Atsumu’s movements became sporadic as he watched you watch yourself cum. That, coupled with the said of your screaming his name as he filled your holes, sent him spiralling into his own climax.

Your eyes finally closed in delight as his cock twitched inside you seconds before his warm cum sprayed your insides, coating them in his thick white release.

He kept his grip on your hair as you continued to milk him for everything he had, your pussy beginning to drip as his cum mixed with yours, but he didn’t stop his movements, he wanted to draw it out for as long as he could, though his thrusts were gentle now as he worked your body through the last moments of release.

When he was finally spent, he collapsed onto you, pulling his thumb from your ass before his arms came to rest beneath you, covering your body with his own. 

You bathed in the remnants of your orgasm for a while longer before your mixed release along with some of his spit began to run down your inner thighs. You pressed back against him, indicating that you needed to move.

He pulled back, groans falling from both of your lips as he pulled his limp cock from your abused hole. He couldn’t help but smile as it gaped slightly from how much he’d stretched you, trickles of his cum spilling out. He reached a finger out, gently collecting some on his fingers and pressing it back into you.

You were so sore from how hard he’d fucked you that the lightest touch made you whimper in discomfort as a low ache filled your worn-out body.

“Sorry baby, gotta make sure it doesn’t all go to waste.” 

“S’okay.” you mumbled, your throat raw from overuse. 

When you tried to move, your body gave up on you, leaving you bent over the counter as your legs turned to jelly. Atsumu took pity on you, grabbing a washcloth and soaking it in warm water.

He quickly cleaned you up, carefully not to put too much pressure against the angry marks he’d left on your ass. When he was satisfied, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the bed, setting you down slowly on the plush mattress before getting in beside you. 

Once he was beneath the covers, he pulled your body to his, wrapping you in his strong hold so that you lay on his chest, your head tucked beneath his chin. He placed soft kisses along your forehead while his fingertips ran along the length of your spine, the motion helped your tired muscles to relax, your body melting under his touch.

“I’m sorry…” you trailed off, unsure how to finish your sentence.

“I know. I just lost myself a little when I thought about his hands on you, y/n… I don’t care if I sound like a possessive caveman, you’re mine and I want you to always be mine.” You couldn’t ignore the way his voice cracked a little towards the end as his arm tightened around your waist.

Placing a kiss above where his heart lay in his chest, you smiled as sleep finally pulled you under.

“Always yours, ‘Tsumu…”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

finally some new content for you guys lmaoo

thought i’d include a lil aftercare and i couldn’t stop myself from getting a little sappy at the end lmaoo.

Be sure to check out the rest of the fics in the collab!!

[ginwhitlock]

summary: human!JASPER/ human!BELLA. Bella is called to deliver day supplies to a very tired and mostly lost 1st Regiment Calvary, headed by no other than Major Jasper Whitlock. What will the two do once left alone to go over maps of the Tennessee hills?

fic type: oneshot, SMUT 18+

warnings: is set in the civil war, which means Jasper is a soldier in the confederacy literally only because he’s from Texas I promise, it would’ve been weird to make him union and apart of the Texas Calvary as that wasnt a union regiment, I do not support the confederacy or any of its beliefs, its just part of his backstory and this fic is centered directly in his human life (the confederacy itself is not mentioned in detail, it is just alluded to the fact). This is a smut fic but not hardcore in anyway so be warned. Oh also I made Bella and Emmett siblings. Of course. 

She almost broke his nose kissing him.

She almost shattered bone and cartilage clicking their teeth together, enamel scraping enamel.

She almost caved in the center of his face so she could lick the insides of his molars, separate his jaws to find the pit of his throat, dangle her self righteousness by his uvula.

And to think she almost didn’t go out that morning.

Isabella Marie was the kind of pretty you didn’t see right away. The layers of fine muscle and fragile skin hiding the richness of her blood-red cheeks, crisp even in the horrible heat of August. And with that heat came hot headed Calvary men with unlined coat pockets and a hunger for pretty little girls.

She met Major Whitlock three miles outside of town, the local preacher sending her out to their camp with as many baskets as her daddy’s two mules could hold on their hips. She was flushed, the slot of her breastbone slick with afternoon sweat— her riding boots did nothing but slosh around with her pale feet inside, leather no match for Tennessee mountain hidin weather.

Maybe she should’ve dropped ice down her shift. Maybe she should’ve played dead and waited for God to put her on her ass.

The thin brunette was graced with the presence of an even skinner red head the moment Stubborn Ass’s (as she affectionally called her steed in private) hooves entered the temporary camp. The mans hair fell limply in front of his eyes which were slightly sunken, the blue of his irises molting into a starved shade of dust. His lips were worse. Once pink and slightly plump, now skinny and cracked with the less than dusty air.

“Is this the 1st Regiment Calvary? From Texas?” Her voice was strained and feverish, salt dripping off her Cupid’s bow.

The man nodded and offered a hand, “Names Sargent Henry Arquette. Nice to see you Miss, the boys haven’t been able to get any supplies up here for days,” Bella grasped his hand tightly, afraid her unskilled balance would come into play, and forced her weight down to the ground ungracefully, “you’re the sheriffs daughter, right miss?” His smile seemed correct handing off his skinny face, his teeth crooked and off centered, but sweet. She quirked her lip in return.

“Yes Sargent, I seem to be your supply wagon today. There’s more back in town but I was told you wouldn’t be in for a day or so.” Flushed and overdressed, that’s how she felt. Every second.

Henry took in the view of the well fed half breeds and gestured off handedly, something she would come to learn was an action he didn’t even notice he performed. “Day. Days. Who knows until we ration it. These trails are less trails and more raccoon paths. I’m just waiting to see why the hell we’ve been sent so far east to begin with.” He had no recognition what was proper to say in front of the young lady at his side, the year had been sucked dry of any feminine… life, to say lightly. A piece of his brain nudged him for speaking so plainly, but Bella never once looked offended and twitched her head in both sympathy and understanding. She had been raised in these hills. She knew their damnation like the back of her hand. Maybe even the back of her skull.

“I’ve heard about raids up in McMinnville. Bases and such lining up and down the mountain. My brother’s part of the 16th Regiment Calvary up there actually, you know. Things are heating up in our little slice of the world.” The little thing spoke like a sparrow, her nose pointed and soft, the bottom of her front teeth pillowing into her bottom lip. At the age of seventeen she seemed somehow both grounded and unsure.

The south was ripping itself apart. And she— and the Sargent, knew it.

Bella could see the redhead start to comment on her brothers hand me down gossip when a giant of a man— boy? Man? Definitely man, by the looks of his muscled shoulders and high jaw, the darkened cast shifting just under the skin of his cheeks, the low dip of a scar just below his brow— a brow which furrowed, twisted, and arched back up into his tanned forehead when he noticed the mules waiting restlessly, tails swinging behind a girl in a kinder man's idea of a dress and interrupted the lower soldiers train of thought.

“You must be Miss Isabella McCarty. I spoke to your father when we arrived last night.” Clipped and forward were his words, his hand outstretched in front of him, decorated in mis-matched freckles and calluses she could feel pressing into the column of her throat as she placed her small palm in his. “Major Jasper Whitlock, at your assistance.”

No smile graced his face but by God she would witness his lips stretch over his teeth if it was the last thing she ever did.

Still with her hand in his she whispered “You can call me Bella. Or Bella Marie. Or Isabella Marie oh or my mother calls me Belle or sometimes when my father is upset with me he calls me Marie McCarty like my grandmother used to and um..” her tongue had to have swelled to the size of a watermelon in the three seconds it took to look him in the eyes— the swamp green eyes in fact. Eyes the color of duckweed and marigold stems and whatever leaves would stick to the blackberries in the spring.

He laughed. And it sounded like a white flag waving in her insides. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Maybe the preacher was a righteous man after all.

“I like Isabella Marie. Miss Isabella Marie.” Like rain drops on a tin ceiling.

The Arquette boy looked between the two before edging towards the black mules “Any orders where to put these, Major?” Skinny lips. Skinny spine.

Jasper had finally looked up from the strawberry cheeked girl in front of him, released their hands, and knocked his head backwards, towards the other soldiers checking tents and cleaning their own horses.

“Just take em back to the storage tent. Not like it’ll be competing for space.” The Major looked back at his men “Calhoun, Jennings, help Arquette move these rations will you? Make yourself useful for once.” His voice didn’t have to boom and condense like a rung out air horn, the cool of his vocal cords carried and personally plucked the not yet men from their activities and dragged them towards the group of three. Like some sort of magic act.

Bella was far from resigned. “So Major Whitlock, what would you like me to do?” Hopeful eyes, always searching to please. Or to piss off— as Emmett always scorned.

An upturn of lips flashed through Jaspers face and he looked to the sky for a mere moment “Mind helping me sort out some of my maps back in camp? My backwoods knowledge ain’t as sharp as my Houston kind and you seem like an expert in this area, getting yourself up to us all alone.” Bella’s feet started to move on instinct towards the felted wool tent covering a hundred or so feet behind the large man, but his hand stopped her at the shoulder, “And, if you don’t mind, would you be my guide back to town this evening? I’ve got to scout the path for the boys to pull through by the end of this week.”

She should’ve thought longer about it, linger over his words, the way his tongue flicked over his canines and brushed noticeably at the edge of his front teeth. But she didn’t. Not now. Not when the time it would’ve taken could pick at the carefully constructed wall built specifically for boys with serpent tongues. And lion hands. And bear teeth and… he still waiting for her response.

A shake to her head “Of course Major. If you’ll help me bring the mules back home, you’d be more help to me than I think I’d ever be to you.”

He could taste her self doubt. And he didn’t like it.

A jut of his brow led them through the ragged campsite, broken down cinders coating the bottom of her unusually worn boots, the lace of her dress clashing horribly with the scent of charred flesh and resting wounds. If only she knew a doctor. If only the town still had one.

His tent was one of the stronger ones, every inch placated with the spine of a book or a map binder or a drape of letters. He needed a desk and a real bed and maybe someone to make sure he stayed warm during the mountain nights.

Jaspers hands found a tiny stack of drawn maps and laid them over his now folded lap on the ground. Bella swiftly found her place at his bended knee and ran a finger over the torn edge. “These look older than my father. It doesn’t even mark the trail you follow to town.” The squishy flesh of her thumb traced an invisible oil line through the mountain and deposited itself in a town with seemingly no name, according to the parchment. “That’s home. If you’re following these maps I don’t quite understand how you ever got here.” Her eyes were full, engorged on road markers and faded city names.

Jasper softly nodded, their heads just inches from each other as she leaned in to scour the map. He had barely gotten to the camp they were in, his right hand Henry doing nearly all of the sight work. He’d be a hell of a tracker if he was a bloodhound. The blond almost chucked at the thought of Henry with big floppy mutt ears, yelping at the pretty girl almost in Jasper’s lap.

Her hair was like a chocolate waterfall. The good chocolate that mama got sent to her from her sister up north, the kind that was broken off continuously, piece after piece fed to him and his sisters until nothing was left.

Part of him wanted to see if she tasted as sweet.

He’d blame it on how damn long it’s been since he’s smelled anything other than soured sores and gunpowder. Even if Miss Isabella Marie smelled good enough to eat. Good enough to take like a man starved. And God— Jasper hungered like no other.

“There’s a river through the valley here, if you can find yourself through the woods.” Bella had found a piece of graphite and drawn in the harsh line of a hidden waterway just a mile or so from camp. She looked up at him as she spoke, her eyes warmly whiskey colored through her lashes.

His mouth clenched. “How old are you Miss McCarty?”

She blinked rapidly, like coming out of a daze. “Seventeen.”

Her hand dropped the instrument to the paper and draw up to his knee, the covered bone sharp under her knuckles.

“Do you have a boy at home waiting for you, Miss McCarty?” Hot air blew from his mouth to hers like a heatwave. Like a curse.

Bella’s lips formed a small “No” as she slid her small hand up the Major’s thigh, her singular ring gliding like margarine inch my inch as the seconds ticked by, each breath marking the two closer.

“Do you have a wife, Major?” Only whisper escaped her rosebud mouth, his face turning downwards, noses only separated by spirit.

“I was too busy waiting for you, it seems, Miss Bella.”

Her heart thumped her chest hard enough to make her ears ring.

Bella’s fist jumped from Jasper’s thigh to his army issued button up and crushed his chest to her own, her lips finding purchase slotted against his, the force clinking their front teeth together without care. His hands were gripping the roots of her soft waves, their skulls as close as their skin would let them. She wanted more, more, the heat suffocating the tent from more than the August sun. Her thin fingers slipped easily through the button gaps as his tongue invaded the privacy of her mouth. A horrible demented part of her brain screamed ‘Take, Take, Take. Mark me down and climb into the spaces that were meant to fit just us.’ Her brother had always called her too much of a dreamer. Too much of a poet and a believer and an artist. But God. This man was in her hands and she felt like a masterpiece.

A man she hardly knew.

But somehow, the scrape of his knuckles against her soon to be bare thighs felt like they had known each other at birth. Like Texas and Tennessee were just minutes from each other. As if they were the only bodies in the whole entire war.

Jasper’s hands were of no gentleman’s when he unfastened the ribbons holding her skirt to her waist, the under coat used for riding coming off like silk in his calloused palms. She was moaning into his mouth, the world outside the tent becoming buttery soft and not to be worried about. All there was was Jasper and his fucking mouth moving to her neck and his teeth toying around her jaw.

“Jesus, Major” He chuckled at her swear and rid her completely of every layer but her shift and the wool of her stockings, the small corset she wore becoming just cannon fodder for the mouth and hands of the Cavalryman.

“I love when you call me that, darlin. Wanna hear you scream it.” She had barely gotten open a single button on his shirt before he brushed the maps out of the way and flipped her on her back underneath him, the sway of his curled mane teasing her, the golden wheat just barely out of the reach of her teeth or fingers.

She wanted to use it like reins.

She’d especially like calling him by his rank then.

“You know I—“ her breathing caught the better of her as he lifted her by her thighs and dragged her ass to his kneeled position, his fingers running up her stockings with particular care, each inch another layer to her growing wetness. She didn’t let go of her breath until he had reached the skirting of her underdress, the white cotton nearly see through with the sweat sticking to every inch of her skin. His watery eyes devoured the sight with an indescribable hunger. Like a wolf hanging over a bleeding lamb.

What a happy sacrifice she’d be.

“Are you a good little southern girl, Isabella?” His fingertips brushed just under the fabric, his intent not easily hidden behind his hardened brow.

She came out trembling, she couldn’t tell over excitement or fear. “Yes Sir. No ones ever…” even her mother would blush saying those words.

Jasper finally smiled, sharp and soul quenching, like a mist of rain before a hurricane.

“I’m going to ruin you.” He couldn’t tell her about the wedding playing out behind his eyes or the static electric resonance he felt thinking about how another man would never get to lay a hand on his pretty Isabella.

His fingers slipped over her cunt, the soft curling hair tickling his fingertips. The moist warmth wet his fingers before skirting over her lips. He almost groaned. She was soaked. He had to see what his little Belle looked like in the light.

Jasper’s eyes met Bella’s giant blown out doe ones, her elbows holding up her upper body, trying to anticipate his very next move.

If they were playing chess, he was going to win. And she had always been a sore loser.

The skirt of the shift creased with the heat of his palms against her stomach, the slightly cooler air blowing across her pussy, making Bella suck in a breath through her teeth, her bottom lip becoming stuck under them with practiced strength.

Her knees knocked against Jasper’s hips as he watched the pink of her pussy clench around nothing, her wet little hole puckering and buzzing with the want of something under his trousers. He licked his lips as he had a gathered two fingers at her slit and traced upwards, her breath coming out in pants as he reached her clit, the engorged nub nearly ringing in her ears. A small circle over it make her moan from her throat. Bella had never felt someone else’s touch, she had never realized how much she wanted for it. She never knew how much she wanted Jasper to touch her.

The solider took his time as he brought the pads of his fingers back down to her achingly small hole and gathered some of her slick, the smell of sweat and Bella nearly driving him half insane as he brought a finger to his mouth, his tongue licking her clean off.

If Bella could speak to God directly and have him reply, she’d thank him for the creation of Major Jasper Whitlock.

But all she could do was cry out for more. And more he silently promised to give.

Maybe too much.

He had to stretch her out, the head of his cock wouldn’t fit into her without an orgasm in her, not now at least. Jasper slowly brought his hand back a third time and entered a single finger, her hips nearly bucking against his wrist as he slowly sat himself. A bead of sweat ran off his brow. A second finger partnered with the first after a few pumps, in and out, in and out. The near wetness coated on those fingers alone could bring him to release in his cot. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Isabella I have to—“ “Please Major I need—“

The two looked at each other, their mouths in sync as they sat, their souls intertwining and bundling up into a bramble of wonderful thorns, coy smiles gracing both their faces.

Bella sat up slowly and draped a hand over Jasper’s belt buckle. “May I, Major?” The shorty craftsmanship of the iron buckle became putty under her unskilled hands as he nodded, now without words for the angel in front of him. The belt was off before the two noticed and Jasper brought his issued pants down to his ankles and off with his shoes to rest with the scraps of her dress he had taken off so quickly.

“Do you… always go bare?” The squeak of Bella’s voice made Jasper snicker like the teenage boy he technically still was, the nineteen year old clicking his teeth together and grinning. “Miss McCarty, sometimes underpinnings only get in the way of an army man.” A deep blush settled into her cheeks as she slapped at his chest, his shirt hanging open just slightly as he pushed her back to the floor.

“Shush, Whitlock.”

His smile turned feral as the head of his cock graced the hood of her clit, bouncing just slightly with the breath of their bodies. Jasper marked in his head that this should be a sight to see on their wedding night, not their first night together, but by God was it a beautiful one.

He looked at her as he grasped one of her hips with his right hand and the base of his cock with his left. “Breathe, Belle. Breathe with me, alright?” She nodded her head slowly and brought her own hand to the tent floor, grasping tightly.

Jasper’s hand guided the head carefully over her lips and to her quivering entrance. One buck and he’d tear her to badly to bear. No matter how long it had been… he’d never rush with his Isabella. Not now.

He slowly pushed in, the stretch a burn like no other, Bella’s voice turning from a quick steal of breath to a long sigh, the air being pushed out as he took her in. Inch by inch she devoured him, the heat marking his cock in emotional third degree burns. The sky burned brighter, the colors in his eyes turned clearer. Her hips and her fragile skin and the slip of her cunt was the end of the world and the birth of something entirely new. She grasped his shoulders as he mumbled a slew of impressive praise as he allowed her to adjust and seated himself at the very base of her cervix. Her throat screamed out to him as her nails dug in his back.

A wonderful, wonderful burn.

Bella slipped a hand to Jasper’s hip to push him back, to set any and all pace so that the fire would keep burning. He quickly slotted his face in the clench of her neck and began to move his pale hips, beginning to push and pull within her very tight walls.

The tent was full of grunts and moans and breathy screams he was sure the entirely camp heard. But Jesus Christ he didn’t give a single damn at that very moment. His boys knew to stay out of his shit and they be proven that every second until his angel’s orgasm.

God he wanted to fill her up. Wanted to take all of his cum and bury it deep where the lord intended, leave her leaking and exhausted and full of everything he had. He’d empty his balls in her again and again if it meant the Tennessee flower in his arms would keep him forever.

He wanted her forever.

“Major, deeper, please God please yes YES.” Jasper’s hips were snapping at a rapid pace, his balls slapping against her ass as he drove her into the hard ground. He could feel her tighten up the way he felt the air change around him before a fight broke out, the way a horse steps on a snake without jumping. There was an electricity in the air and the moment Bella tore his head out from her and pulled him into a jaw crushing kiss, he was crumbling at her feet, her pussy clenching and spasming around his cock with enough force to take out a grizzly bear.

She locked her legs around his hips as he all but collapsed into her, his hair sweaty between her fingers as she combed through it as his dick twitched it’s last time inside her belly. Jasper’s own hands found repentance under her ass and stayed there, too tired to remove himself from her heat.

“That ride home is gonna be sweaty, isn’t it?” Her whisper made her snort and bite into the side of her neck as she giggled.

[jimlingss]

I love you. I love your work. That's it. I'm binge reading your fics. But I really had this dream that taehyung was trying to seduce me at work and I refused to give in because I'm professional. I went home and cried for rejecting him. Please write a fic about this for me. Why do I never get the guy even my dreams 😭 I'm a loser.

LMAO this is hilarious. I actually had a dream similarly like this too. I’ve always wanted to go to a fortune teller but the me in my dream was also a cheapskate and ended up not going ahahhaa so I feel you, anon. Hopefully this drabble can grant your dreams.

↳ The Office Trip to Pound Town

2.5k || 70% Smut, 30% Fluff || Kim Taehyung

You’re neck deep in work.

Your hands flurry across the keyboard before you’re saving the document and grabbing your pen to look over the Jeon’s contract that needs to be prepared by tomorrow. There’s barely a moment to breathe, much less look up when there’s a quiet knock at the door and it opens.

“Go ahead with lunch, Wendy. I’ll eat after I finish this.”

“She already left,” a deeper, huskier voice says and your eyes finally flicker up.

Taehyung enters, shutting the door behind him. He’s without his blazer, simply in a white dress shirt tucked into his slacks that you remember you picked out for him a few months ago. His blonde hair is styled so half of it is pushed back to reveal his arched brow and the other half falls in front of his forehead to frame his face. It should be illegal to look this good, but you’re not complaining. It’s always nice to have eye candy around the office. It cures your fatigue. 

You smile at him, putting your pen down. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d visit. We’re supposed to be on our lunch break, you know. But of course, you’re always hard at work.”

“How else are the bills going to be paid? Unlike someone, I can’t just dilly-dally.”

Taehyung grins and comes behind you. You learn forward in your office chair, already knowing what he’s about to do. And the moment, Taehyung’s hands lay on your shoulders, a sigh escapes your parted lips. His thumbs dig into a particularly sore muscle, but he massages it out within seconds. You hate how easy it is to melt into his touch. 

“Hey, I work hard too.”

You hum. “Not hard enough. I’m coming for your job, Kim. I’m going to get promoted to director of the department and you’ll get demoted to just being the manager.”

Taehyung scoffs. “I’d like to see you try, Mrs. Kim.” 

He digs harder into another sore spot and you jolt with a pained moan. You pull away from him and turn your head around. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

Suddenly, he licks his lips and your eyes flicker to the movement. Taehyung’s voice drops an octave — it’s never good when that happens since he knows what that does to you. “Do you know what today is?”

Your eyes are rounded. You quickly scour your mind, but come up empty. “What is it?”

He sighs and starts to roll up his sleeves to his elbows, showing all forearms and the popped veins spiraling up his arms. “I’m disappointed,” Taehyung says in a husky tone. “But then again, I’ve always been the one to pay attention to the details. It’s the first day of your fertile window.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The two of you stare at one another. 

He stares at you. You stare at him.

“No. Taehyung, no.”

His mouth starts to twitch and it slowly quirks into a smile. “Come on.”

“It’s unprofessional!”

God fucking dammit. He’s giving you bedroom eyes. And it hits you that the top button of his dress shirt is popped open. Oh god. He came in here just to seduce you, didn’t he?!

“Don’t you want this baby?”

“Yeah, but last time I checked, we have a perfectly good bed at home. King size actually, thanks to someone’s instance.”

“I’m working a late night tonight.” Taehyung comes closer, crowding you with his larger frame and you move back until the office chair can’t even wobble and your side is trapped at your desk. “We can’t waste any more time.”

“Taehyung,” you say his name in a scolding voice, but it’s already weakening by the second. He knows it too.

“You’re not going to make me beg for you, right?” he asks, caging you in with his arms. One of his hands curls around the chair’s armrest and the other is gripping the edge of your desk. “Unless you want me to.” 

You swallow hard, resolve crumbling. It’s not like you don’t want to….

You look over his shoulder towards the door that’s shut and the blinds that have long been pulled since your online conference a few hours prior. A beat later, your attention is directed to him and his sly smirk. 

Taehyung whispers, “Please?”

With a sigh, you close the distance and you feel Taehyung’s massive grin as he kisses you. He leans down as your mouths are still connected and you fall back into the office chair. Taehyung looms over your frame and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. 

His hot tongue licks into your mouth, eager and impatient. At the same time, his hands cup your jaw and he coaxes a whimper from you that’s muffled at his lips. 

You’re supposed to be the strict, no-nonsense manager on this floor overseeing the rest. It’s pathetic that you can be reduced to a school girl by your husband. Taehyung loves it and truthfully, you don’t mind so much, but if anyone else knew, they’d be shocked.

The pair of you pull away to gasp for breath. The strand of saliva between your mouths break. Your lips are swollen while his are stained with your red lipstick. 

“This is so unprofessional,” you whisper to him between pants.

Taehyung smiles sweetly, forehead pressed against yours. “A lot of people already left for their lunch break.”

“That doesn’t mean there aren't people on this floor and right outside the door.”

“That’s what makes it fun.”

“It won’t be fun if we lose our jobs.”

“Not if we get this done quickly.” He steps back and starts pulling at his belt. It clicks, unbuckling with ease and your core starts to heat in anticipation for what’s to come. Taehyung doesn’t miss the way you rub your thighs together. He smirks and then gestures to you. “As your superior, I command you to bend over.”

You scoff, but turn around anyhow to lean your front onto the desk. You wince when the papers underneath your hands start to crinkle, but it’s much too late to move them when he roughly shoves up your skirt.

“I could report you to HR for that,” you quip.

“You’d never,” he retorts with a thick voice.

He doesn’t move for a few seconds. You wonder why he hasn’t done anything, if there’s something wrong, but then it occurs to you what he’s eyeing your ass in. “Taehyung. I swear to god—”

The sound of ripping follows. 

The bastard’s torn into your black, sheer stockings.

You curse and turn your head around to glare right as he tears down your underwear. “It’s fine. No one will notice. Faster this way.” You suspect he just wants to fuck you while you’re still in stockings, bent over your own desk, but you don’t call him out on it. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Easy for you to say—” You yelp when your left heel is suddenly lifted off the floor. He props your bent leg on the desk and plops down into your leather office chair as if he owns it.

Before anything else can be said, Taehyung dives straight between your plump ass cheeks. He holds your hips in place, fingertips sunk into your skin as his tongue laps at your hole and he moves his face from side to side. A gasp breaks from your vocal cords and you bring one arm back to grab his hair.

“T-There’s no time, Taehyung.”

“It’s fine,” he murmurs, moving to suck a bruise into your right ass-cheek. Taehyung really gives another definition to kissing someone’s ass but rather than feeling like the superior one, you’re keening into him, crumbling at his touch. It’s turning you on how much this is turning him on, with the way he groans into your skin like he’s fully enjoying this, how he’s eager and happy to be on the giving end. 

Unintentionally, you push his face closer into your ass and his slender fingers begin to gently caress your slit. Your mouth seals to suppress another moan when his warm tongue licks at your hole again. You can feel the heat of his warm breath against your cunt, so close yet still so far. 

A minute later, he comes out panting. “Damn. This is better than any lunch.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s going to be your fault if you don’t get to finish.”

“Relax,” he sing-songs and you can practically hear his grin. “We’ll get there.”

Without much warning, Taehyung plunges his two fingers into your already wet cunt. You keen, failing to silence your whine and your back arches. You don’t see his smirk, how he’s fully enjoying the view while sitting back in the chair. He simply starts pumping his index and middle finger in and out of your heat. Taehyung stretches you out, curling his fingers at a particular spot that has you gripping the edge of your desk until your knuckles have turned white. You try your best not to make a sound, but it’s almost like he’s trying his best to get you to break and be noisy.

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re leaking all over my pants.”

Even when he’s behind you, you can feel his intense gaze that’s watching you closely.

It feels degrading to be bent over your own desk like this. You’re practically dancing in the palm of Taehyung’s hand, giving into his every whim without being able to control yourself. But at the same time, all of this, the thought of him claiming your spot and taking you right here was turning you on. You don’t want to admit that you’re enjoying this as much as he is.

“T-Taehyung,” you gasp, cheek pressed to your paperwork. 

He chuckles lowly. “Alright, alright.”

He pulls his two fingers out of your sopping cunt and sucks on them till they're clean. Then Taehyung stands and lowers his pants just enough to remove his hard cock from his boxers. He pumps it twice and positions the red, leaking head to your swollen entrance.

You’re about to ask him what’s taking so long, but you choke on your words when he enters you with a single push of his hips. Your cunt stretches to accommodate Taehyung’s big cock that’s practically nudging at the entrance of your cervix. Your fingernails curl into the edge of your desk while you fail to stifle the whine that comes out, even when your teeth have sunk into the bottom of your lip.

“S-Sorry,” he groans. “Couldn’t help it. Don’t want to run out of time. Already at twelve forty.”

You turn your head around. “What?!” 

But there’s no opportunity to react more. Not when Taehyung grabs your hips, eagerly fucking into you. Like a man on a mission, like he’s making sure he’ll get you pregnant no matter what. He withdraws his cock and then plunges as deep as he can inside your tight cunt, his hips slamming against your ass. Taehyung bends your leg to get at an even deeper angle and you turn back around, trying your best to keep in your moans and quiet the whines of his name. 

The urgency of time presses on your minds, but it also fades with the onslaught of pleasure. All the papers underneath you are sure to be crumpled beyond belief, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. 

The pens and pencils fall over to the carpet. Your eyes sting. He’s filling you up so well.

“F-Fuck, this is so hot,” Taehyung groans, watching his cock disappear inside of you with each rapid jut of his hips. How you’re trying to still hold yourself together. The way your stockings have been torn and his underwear and yours are barely pushed away. “You’re so hot.”

“Hurry, Tae!”

He hums and you start to squeeze around him. Taehyung’s hips sputter. His pace falters before quickening urgently and impatiently. “W-Wait, wait.”

Taehyung licks his thumb and finds your clit with ease. You gasp as he rubs circles on the swollen bit and your toes curl. “Tae, Tae—” You’re afraid you’re being too loud, but the concern is overridden when you cum. There’s white flashing beneath your eyelids, a wash of pleasure that renders your knees weak.

Taehyung follows a few seconds later. He plunges in as deep as he can go with brute force and a pitched cry leaves your throat, making him slap his hand over your mouth to keep quiet. 

The picture frame of you and Taehyung in Malta on your honeymoon is knocked off. 

And then cum paints your velvet, warm walls. It fills your cunt, leaking past his cock. Taehyung pants on top of you and thrusts twice more in spite of your oversensitivity and his own. He holds you still for an intimate moment as you both catch your breaths. Then, he withdraws.

You shakingly get up as he tucks himself back in, buckling his belt again after he snags it off the ground. You try to fix the mess of your hair and he grins, cheeks flushed. Taehyung comes close and his thumb lifts to wipe the smudged mascara at the corner of your eye.

He can’t hold in his smile and giddily hugs you. His face affectionately nuzzles into your hair while you wonder if he knows that his cum is still leaking out of you and dripping down your thigh. 

Sometimes the duality of Taehyung is jarring. You wonder how this can be the same man who just bent you over your own desk and pounded into you until there were tears in your eyes. But you suppose that’s what makes him so charming and why you married him. One second, he’s throwing you over his shoulder and spanking you till you call him daddy and the next, he’s pouting and begging you to call his dad for him because he just stubbed his toe against the door and it hurts and he needs advice on what to do.

“Sorry about the ripped stockings.”

“Uh-huh. You better buy me new ones.”

“I will.”

The pair of you pull apart and he pulls a tissue for you to wipe yourself with as you sit down and peel off the stockings once and for all to throw into the trash. If someone asks, you’ll tell them it ripped on its own.

“Well, at least that was fun, right?” Taehyung smiles as you put yourself back together.

You eye him. “What time?”

“Pardon?”

“What time are you done with the meeting?”

Taehyung blinks, not sure where you’re going with this. “Probably at eight.”

“I’ll be at your office at eight ten then,” you state plainly. “It’s only fair. I can’t be the only one having my office destroyed.”

Slowly but surely, an enormous grin spreads into his face. Taehyung leans in to kiss your cheek. “It’s a promise then.”

[buildmeafairytale]

Orc Boyfriend - Bash

Oh my gosh guys I just hit 160 followers! I honestly didn’t think I would have nearly this many when I made this blog, and I’m so thankful for all those who read and like my stories! Here’s another one featuring a gifted woman and her orc babe. If you like my work, please consider donating to my kofi, it helps me out a lot <3 Also, sorry if you’re seeing this twice, I had to fix the ‘keep reading’ thing so it wouldn’t be so long. NSFW

 I was a little girl when I heard the siren’s call. My parents were busy doing anything but watching me, and slipping away was never hard. I followed the voice through the forest near my home, the song notes pulling at me like strings tied around my bones. I saw a woman laid out near a creek, sick and dying. She was singing a mourning song for herself, so I sat with her and tried to offer her any comfort I could. She was scared of dying alone; that much I could tell from her pained wails. So I sat there and held her hand for as long as it took, and she thanked me with a gift. I felt the power come over me, blue lights whirled up my arm and through my body from where my hand was grasping hers. I didn't understand what had happened for a while, but it became impossible to ignore. I would whistle a tune and birds would start to follow me, or I would sing and my parents would suddenly want to spend time with me. I didn’t understand the strength of the power until I started school, though. A boy tried to grab at me and lift up my skirt, and the shrill sound that left me was anything but human. He was on the ground with blood pooling in his ears by the time my mouth sprung shut. 

I was more careful after that. Being different in my town is often a death sentence, so I learned to control it and keep this power to myself. I always figured my parents had a hunch, but as they didn’t spend time with me much I was unsure. That was until my parents sold me off, though. Then it was confirmed.

 The men came in the middle of the night. They were dirty and unkempt but dressed in good, although mismatched, armor. They probably had a single set of teeth between them all. I heard the commotion and came downstairs. 

 “Ah good, she’s awake. Go ahead and take her, I have no need for her here.” I heard my father say, his nose upturned and his awful fake accent exaggerated. 

 I watched my father be paid by them while my mother stood to the side. Her lips were pinched tight but she did not speak up in my defense. I looked back and forth in confusion, still half asleep and not understanding what was happening to me. They stood there by the large french doors, draped in their finery while I was sold like a broodmare. 

“She is a monster,” I heard my mother say, “do not be afraid to treat her like one.”

The men went to grab me, but I tried to fight. I squirmed and clawed, and they led me away as I struggled in their grasp. I opened my mouth to scream but I was hit over the back of the head before I could get a sound out.

When I woke up, all I could feel was pain blossoming at the base of my skull. As I got used to the pain, I felt a tender hand brushing the sweat soaked hair off of my forehead. I peeled my eyes open, and as they went into focus I found I was inside of a wooden box, the only sunlight coming in from little gaps between panels. We must have been moving, as I was only slightly aware of the jostling of my head when we hit bumps. The hand was attached to a small orcish girl, still a child. She couldn’t be very old, her tusks were still just nubs peeking out of her lips. It was then I saw her lips moving, the actual words taking longer to get to me.

“Shh are you alright lady? It’s gonna be okay, my papa and uncle are gonna come, I promise. I’m Sheely, and -” her words faded slowly, and I felt myself go unconscious again, her voice luling me out again. 

The next time I wake up is to the screams of the girl being held prisoner with me. I awake abruptly, and while I’m still in pain I move quickly. I see a man is trying to drag her out of the box we are in. She is clawing and fighting him with tears rushing down her face. I do not hesitate, and when I hear men comment about ‘breaking her in’ I let out a cry that has them all on their knees. Blood is running out of all the orifices in their head, like tears coming from their eyes, and a few of them have collapsed. Sheely is unharmed by me and my power does not touch her, which I am thankful for. I grab her and start to run. Everything is blurry for me but I know this is my chance to get us out of this. I don’t want to dwell on the intentions of those men, but I know enough to know we would be better off lost in the wilderness.

 The orc - Sheely is just a child, though, no matter that orcish children are almost as large as a human teenager. She is panicked from the men trying to hurt her, sobs still leaving her despite the running and she catches her ankle on a root. She falls to the ground, but I waste no time in trying to pick her up. I have not known hard labor in my life and orcish children are not easy to carry, though. I feel the panic rising in my chest, and I hold her to me tightly.

 I hear them, then. Some of the men have come after us, and I try to find somewhere to hide the girl. My feet scrape the ground as I try to haul her behind a fallen tree. It is no use, and soon the largest of the men is appearing in front of us. Before I can blink a long whip is wrapped around my arm, bringing us both to the ground. I sing and wail once again but while I can tell he is in pain, it does not stop him. I curse myself now, for ignoring the power I have. If only I had honed it, or practiced more, we could be okay. He backhands me, and I hear a crack.

The pain doesn't knock me out this time, although I wish it had. I am grabbed by the jaw, and I forget all about the pain in my head. Noise leaves me but not enough. and my voice is rendered useless. He glares at me with dark eyes, and all I see is hate in them.

“Are you going to try that again or should I crush your vocal cords too, siren bitch?” Spit flies in my face and I shake my head no to the best of my abilities. He increases his grip on my jaw harder, and if it wasn’t broken before I’m sure it is now. My vision swims with darkness, but I hold on. I won’t leave her alone with them. He lets go and pushes my face away and into the ground. 

“Get the fuck up then,” he tells me, and I obey. 

 We are dragged back to their camp, and I hold onto Sheely. I see several of the men still on the ground before we are thrown back into the wagon. My head hits the wall and I feel the wood splinter into my skin. I manage to position Sheely behind me. I am hopeful that the men are in enough pain to be deterred from their plans with her, but I don’t want to risk not being able to help her if they come back. 

I don’t know how long it has been but I have not had food nor water since I was captured. I had never known this kind of pain, this uncomfortable existence, but I refused to let myself succumb to sleep. Instead I spend my time trying to listen to the men and make sure no one was coming to get us

The words I hear from the men outside all melt together and paint an eerie picture of the life waiting for me. I feel as if I am living in a nightmare and just couldn’t make my screams heard or run fast enough to escape. Scenes play out before my eyes of the ways evil people mean to torture me and throw me away once I am used up. I hear screams and anguished cries, but it all fades into the horror playing behind my eyelids. The screaming dies down into a dark silence, and I can hear Sheely yelling from behind me, apparently awake. 

The last of my strength I spend covering her body with mine, pushing her further into the corner of our dank wooden prison. The door is ripped apart, and the sun has risen. The light blinds me for a moment, but then a large figure blocks it out. I turn my back to the figure and pull Sheely further underneath me. I don’t feel as though I am long for this world in my current condition, and she is so young. I want to give her a chance. 

“Uncle!” I hear Sheely yell this in the back of my mind, and the man yells out for Sheely too. I let go, then. I let go of her, and my will to stay conscious as well. I feel her relief and happy noises all around. I try to soak in her joy as I let go. 

I know enough to know I am not dead. I drift in and out, feeling bumps in the roads and rumbling voices around me. Everything hurts enough that I wish I was dead, though. A wish that refuses to come true, as I am suspended in pain for what feels like an eternity. 

The fog eventually clears and the heavy scent of medicinal steam hangs in the air. The smell is of a healers den, and if I am right then I am relieved. My vision is blurry but I see a shape run into the den, and Sheely’s voice. It’s the sweet voice of a happy and safe child, and I think I manage a smile. I see another shape duck into the tent behind her, as well as a deep voice coming from beside me. A gnarled and old hand comes into vision as well, holding a cloth to my face. The throbbing of my jaw and head is not gone, but muted. I feel bandages wrapped around my arm and feet as well. A small hand takes hold of mine, and when I fall asleep again I feel calm for the first time in days. 

The medicine is strong and leaves me in a daze for a long while, but as I heal they give me less and less, until I am able to understand and remember when people are speaking to me. Ungral, the healer, is a constant companion to me. He explains that Sheely is the much loved daughter of their chief, and I am being honored among the clan. 

“Sheely has painted quite the picture of you to us all, calls you a ‘screeching warrior’” Ungral informs me, his lips upturned in amusement.

“Oh goodness, everyone will be so disappointed when they actually see me. I am no warrior, although I did screech quite a bit.” I jest with him.

“Hush child, no one will be disappointed to see the women who took care of our Sheely,” He sets out food in front of me. It is a thick and meaty stew, and I am in heaven from the smell alone. 

 Sheely visits me everyday before her schooling and often before her bedtime, bringing me snacks and things to do. Her mother and father visited me early in my recovery, but I don’t remember very much. Sheely tells me they are planning a celebration for her return, and that they are waiting until I am recovered since I am an ‘honored guest’. I am grateful for their hospitality, but I feel I have not earned it. All I did was cower with Sheely in a corner while her family saved us both, but I would hate to insult them this way.  

The first day Ungral has me leave the tent to walk is more eventful than I like. The moment I leave the hut, orcs are thanking me and introducing themselves left and right. I am friendly and speak to everyone, but it quickly becomes too much for me. Right before I am going to tell Ungral I need a break, Sheely comes running up to me followed by three other orcs. One of which was a woman, in decorative armor and beads woven into her hair. She grabs my hand with tear filled eyes as Sheely hugs my legs. 

“Thank you for keeping my daughter safe when I couldn’t,” she tells me. My eyes start to fill as well, just looking at her. 

“Of course,” I nod to her, my hands grasping hers back. I am starting to feel dizzy but I dare not disrespect her. One of the orcs with her, the smaller of the two men, comes up to me as well. This is without a doubt the chief. I know little of orcs and their customs, but the beads and armor he wears, as well as the tattoos covering him, seems to indicate this. 

“I am Sheelga’s father, and Chief of this clan,” He tells me, his voice loud and clear. “We are all so thankful for you and that you were able to protect her. You will want for nothing here, nor ever again. Be assured that the men who took you are no longer in this world and as soon as you are fully healed, I will have my best warriors escort you home to your family. If there is anything you need, please, just let us know.” He tells me this, and I am reminded that my family is the one who did this to me. I stutter out a thank you and feel my legs shake. Ungral is by my side quickly, the old man more nimble than I assumed.  

“Leave the girl alone, just because she is stretching her legs doesn’t mean you can all bombard her,” he waves off the chief and his wife, who just chuckle at him. 

“Yes, we will leave you be then. Please, rest and know that you are safe here,” The chief and his wife say goodbye and turn to leave, but Sheely runs into the healing den. Ungral and I follow after her, partially to see what is wrong and partially because my stamina is running too low to do much else. Her parents and the other large orc come into the hut too, and I see Sheely in her usual spot next to the bed with tears running down her cheeks.

Everyone goes over her and when I settle on the bed she hurriedly plasters herself against me. I hold and shush her, and I can make out some words between her broken sobs. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she bawls out, and I immediately start to hold her tighter. 

Her father has crouched next to her, and his large hand is splayed on her back. “She has a family too, my heart, and we cannot keep her from them,” he tells her, but I speak up. 

“I don’t actually. Well, I suppose I do but they’re the ones who sold me to those men,” my voice wavers as all the eyes turn to me, mixed looks of anger and pity look back at me. 

“Then you have to stay here,” Sheely says, her voice firm. I smile at her, but I do not wish to impose on these kind people. 

“Now little one, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” I try to sound cheery, but it really just comes out sad. 

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say you should stay,” the other orc speaks up, and I no longer argue. He is the largest being I have ever seen, with dark green skin and long black hair in a single shining braid down his back. He has black swirling tattoos covering a great deal of his arms, and his deep brown eyes lock onto mine. His beauty stops the words from leaving my mouth. 

“Yes, brother,” the chief nods at him and turns to me. “You will stay then, it is settled.”

His wife comes to sit by me and I open my mouth but no sounds come out, I just nod and squeeze her hand. 

Not soon after this I start to heal more quickly. I am sure this has something to do with the lack of stress I currently have. I am surrounded by kind people who want to help me, and I get to stay. A large feast is held to not only celebrate that Sheely is back, but also to welcome me to the clan. It is loud and boisterous, and copious amounts of ale are consumed. Balo, the Chief, drinks so much in celebration that his wife Lorka is rolling her eyes at him. He is telling old war stories and spinning his daughter around, taking intermediate breaks to remind Lorka how in love with her he is. When he hears me laugh, though, he sends a large grin my way and starts a toast for me. I am embarrassed, but flattered as they raise their glasses to me. I drink some too, but Ungral warns me not to do much since it could interfere with some of the medicine he has given me. 

Sure enough, I feel the effects of the alcohol much more strongly than I would have thought, so I go outside to get some space from the crowd. I find a pretty tree nearby and stumble my way over to it. I see Sheely’s uncle leave the great feast hall not long after I do. He looks around until he finds me, then struts toward me. 

“Oh, hi! I’m sorry but I don’t think I ever got your name,” I squeak out the words as best I can, hoping I’m not sounding over eager or over drunk. He is large and powerful, and I cannot look away. He makes me feel so small, and it excites something deep within me. My head spins, and I am unsure if it is due to his presence or simply the mead. 

“My given name is Rhugro’bash, but Bash is just fine little songbird,” he nods at me and settles onto a stump next to me. He offers me a smile and hands me a plate stacked high with food. “I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you would still eat.” 

“Thank you, everyone is so friendly but I’m just not used to such big crowds,” I take the food eagerly, moaning at the flavors. I feel spoiled here, with a beautiful orcish man bringing me delicious food. I open my eyes to see Bash staring at me as I eat, and I almost choke at the look on his face. “Sorry, it’s just so good.” 

He throws his head back and lets out a guwaffing laugh. “Well then I am happy to have pleased one as lovely as you.” 

He reaches over and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and I’m sure he can feel the heat coming off of my face. He stands and leaves quickly after, wishing me a goodnight in his deep rumbling voice. Oh gods, I think to myself, I am going to get myself in trouble with him. 

The next morning I wake up to a large breakfast and a flower set out for me. I ask Ungral about it and he laughs, shaking his head at me.  

“It seems you’ve caught a certain someone’s attention,” the old man gives me a wry smile, apparently amused by my confusion. He sits across from me with his herbal tea, and passes me a note. It says nothing on it but ‘From Bash’, so it does little to clear things up.

“But...why?” 

“The man wants to cook for you,” he shrugs, “wants to see to it you’re fed, and brings a flower? I think you can figure it out,” he chuckles at me then, and leaves me with a meal that was composed of more food than I would be able to eat in days. 

 Bash comes to visit with Sheely later in the day, who hugs me then promptly goes to hang out with Ungral instead. I thank Bash for breakfast and he goes from a warrior to a puppy in an instant. He lights up and breaks out in a breathtaking smile, the gold bands on his tusks shining brightly. The two of us sit down, and he sees the flower sitting next to my bed. I clear my throat, feeling much more nervous in his presence than the night before when I was emboldened by alcohol. 

“I hope it wasn’t too forward of me, songbird. I wasn’t sure how things like this are done where you are from.” He speaks so casually and directly, I am not used to that. 

“What kind of things do you mean?” 

He reaches over and folds my hand in his, his calloused palms brushing against my skin in the sweetest way. “Romantic type things. I want to court you.”  

“Can I ask why?” 

He laughs a bit and schooches his chair closer to me, a playful look on his face. He leans closer to me as he speaks, and his proximity makes my head spin. “You are strong, and brave. I like the way you look when I bring you food, and how beautiful you are. You love Sheely, and were ready to lay down your life for her. I cannot think of better traits for a mate.” 

My mouth is in an “o” shape, and he leans back with a satisfied look on his face. Sheely comes barreling back in and I am grateful for the distraction. 

Bash continues to send food to me, along with little gifts or trinkets. He gives me clothing too, as well as a homemade chest to put everything in. I appreciate it and everything he does makes me feel so special, but I hardly feel as if I deserve it.

 One day he comes to take me for a walk, and I voice this to him.

“I really do enjoy everything you do for me, I just feel like I am undeserving of all of it. You spoil me.” He finds a log to sit on, and pulls me to sit on one of his thighs. My arms wind themselves around his neck with his behind my back. The closeness is so effortless for him, it seems, while I feel my heart is going to pump out of my chest.

“Now don’t go feeling guilty, pretty bird. I like doing things for you.” He frowns at me, and makes everything sound so simple.

“I just feel bad I can’t give you anything in return.”

“You give me plenty,” he scoffs, “you gift me your time.”

You huff and adjust yourself on his knee, turning to face him more. 

“You give me that too though. I want to give you something and yet all I have are things you have gifted me.” I frown at this realization. They have welcomed me in but I’ve really just free-loaded. 

Bash taps a finger to my forehead, startling me out of my thoughts. “I don’t know what’s going on in here, but cut it out. You wanna give me something?” I nod, of course I do. He smiles, almost wicked. “Sing to me, bird. I want to hear it.” 

My eyes grow big. Of all things, I was not expecting this. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, playing with my hair with an exaggerated pout on his lips.

“I’ll do it for you, I’m just not used to singing nice things. It’s always been a bit of a defense mechanism.” I try to think back to when I was young and would sing to the birds and the flowers. I think about the feelings I have for Bash, the look in his eye when he sees me and the happiness he brings me. I concentrate and let my abilities take over. It’s natural for me, like taking a breath of fresh air after being underwater too long. 

My voice sings of a new life, of a gallant rescue. I sing of new feelings and new family, how much more beautiful life is for me now. I sing of new beginnings, of spring. I let my emotions well up then pour out, and I am unsure how long I sing but when I stop he has tears in his eyes. 

I reach up to wipe them away, noticing how out of it he looks. He has pulled me much closer to him while I was singing and I am thoroughly pressed against him.

He whispers “thank you.” Bash presses his lips to my brow and we stay like this for quite some time. Once we hear crickets chirping he takes me back to Ungral’s.

The courting gifts start to increase and get larger after this encounter. He insists on cooking almost every meal for me, and I try to squash my feelings of being unworthy. I sing to him occasionally too, since he says it’s one of his favorite things. We often have the healers den to ourselves, since Ungral lives in a separate building behind it. I haven’t been to his house yet, as he said he is in the middle of building onto it.

The first time he kisses me, it is while he is cooking for me. I move to the kitchen to peek at what he is making, and he just leans down and pecks me on the lips. He pulls back and looks shocked at his own actions, and I get to see my great warrior flustered. I give him no chance to apologize. I lift up onto my tippy toes and pull him down, slanting my mouth over his. He holds his arms out awkwardly to the side at first, but soon drops the wooden spoon and kisses me back. 

He’s vocal and does not bother to hold in his groans. I pull at him until we are on the cot together, kissing and petting at one another. He moves to my neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses under my ear. The feeling of his tusks brushing against my neck sends chills up my spine. All too suddenly he rips himself off of me, running to the kitchen. The sound of soup boiling over registers and I hop up to help clean up the mess. Bash’s cursing turns into laughter when we look at one another, and I peck his lips again but the heated moment has passed.

I am adamant about giving Bash an actual tangible courting gift, and I ask Ungral about it. 

“It’s not frowned upon, if that’s what you mean,” he tells me, showing me how to blend certain medicines. “Not required either, but after one courts you a while giving a gift back is a way to accept the courting or encourage them that you want it to advance.” 

Winter is around the corner and Bash told me he has a lot to prepare for with his home, so I try to think of something good to get for him today. I talk to Ungral about this too, but it feels odd talking to him about my romantic life. He is more of a father than mine ever was, and I sense it’s a bit awkward for him as well. 

“Take this,” Ungral says, trying to shove a bag of coin in my hand. I push it back at him. 

“What, no! What for?” I ask him, “I already live here for free!”

He gives me a flat look in return “You help me with my work and Bash feeds the both of us with his excessive courting meals. I should still pay you for all the work you help me with. Go buy a courting gift and stop fawning, girl.” He turns around and leaves no room for me to argue. 

I do want to give something nice to Bash so I take it, but I vow to help Ungral even more to feel as though I earned it. I walk along the shops in the center of the village, and one tent catches my eye. Inside are glittering beads, hair ties, and bottles of oils and soaps resting on shelves. Bash’s hair is beautiful, and he knows it, so this would be perfect. I look along the beads and one instantly catches my eye. It’s a pretty blue bead and dangling on it is a bird. It’s absolutely perfect. I go to pay for the bead and the shop owner wraps it up in a nice box for me. I can’t wait to give it to him, and I hate that I have to wait. 

The hours could not go by any slower, but eventually Bash comes by to tell me goodnight. He walks in and kisses me, but I can tell he is tired.

“How was your day songbird?” 

I cannot help to smile in excitement, I probably look crazy to him.

“It was good,” I tell him, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh really? And what may that be?” 

“Sit here and close your eyes! I’ll be right back.” I sit him on the bed and get a sleepy smile in return. I go to get the bead and a snack for him as well. I’m only gone a moment, but when I return he is snoring. My disappointment is fleeting, he looks so sweet like this. I set the box on the table and get to work. I gently peel his shoes off and his more uncomfortable looking clothing as well before tucking him in. The bed is small so I decide to snuggle in, hoping he doesn’t mind the liberty taken. 

Bash is warm, and I find it was one of the best night's sleep I’ve had in awhile. We are tangled together in the morning and he is awake before me. A hand is petting my hair, and I just sigh and shove my face more into his chest.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” he whispers to me, and I have never thought him more attractive than now, with his groggy voice in my ear. 

“Shh, m’still sleepin,” I mumble into his chest, and get a laugh in return. We bask in the moment before I remember how excited I am, so I just roll over and hand him the box, jolting up to give it to him. 

“Open it,” I encourage, and he purposefully goes slowly. 

When he sees it he gasps, and I feel like I’ve done well. I realize why he enjoys doing things for me so much now. His excitement and happiness when he holds it up is my new favorite look for him. He has me braid the bead into his hair, and the blue is a stark contrast to his dark hair. 

“I have something for you as well, my songbird,” Bash gestures to his satchel, and I hand it to him. He digs around, and then presses a key into my hand. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up. I look at the key then back at Bash for a minute before it sinks in. 

“You want me to...live with you?”

“Yes, I can’t think of anything I would want more,” he admits to me.

“I don’t need an answer right away,” he continues, one of his large hands caressing the side of my face. “Just...come by tonight if you decide to, otherwise I will see you in the morning and we can take things as slowly as you wish.” He kisses my stunned face and goes to walk away, apparently nervous for your reaction. 

I grab him before he makes his way out.

“Bash!” I stop him, and pull him down near me. “I’ll see you tonight,” I whisper in his ear, planting a kiss underneath. I can practically feel the chill that runs through him, but I usher him out anyway. I’ve never been to his house before, and wasn’t even sure where to go. I talk to Ungral a bit before I pack up my things. I leave most everything there for now, as my chest and other things are too heavy for me alone. I then go to visit his sister-in-law’s house for a bit of help. 

Later that night I walk up the cobble pathway in nothing but the silk nightdress Lorka has given me. My hair is down, and I feel every bit the siren I have been accused of being. The home is beautiful under the moonlight and the colors seem vibrant bathed in the blue of the night. Fireflies dance over the pond and the stone house is reflected in its depths. I open the heavy door and all the breath leaves my body.

Bash is waiting for me in the home he has built for us in nothing but his loincloth.  He stands proud and tall in front of me. Deep rumbles of desire come from his chest and mix with the sounds of the crackling fire; it is the most beautiful melody I have ever been lucky enough to hear. The fire gives his skin an otherworldly gleam and he looks every part the formidable warrior he is known to be. My formidable warrior, now. I walk toward him as if I am a newborn deer and I fear he can hear my knees knocking together, but one of his hands reaches out to steady me. 

His hand moves up my arm while his other goes around my waist, pulling me against him. His warm skin quells a shaking chill I didn’t know I had, and I let myself melt into him. He has barely touched me and I feel as though I’ve run miles. 

“Let me take you to our bed, my songbird,” he says, and I nod my head. My eyes are wide gazing up at him and Bash smiles down at me. He bends down and lifts me up a bit to close the gap to place a soft kiss on my lips. His tusks brush against my cheeks and I gasp. He suddenly places his hands on my bottom and pulls me up with my legs around him. I squeal out a laugh and the nervousness is broken. 

He gives kisses and raspberries all over my neck and chest as he walks me to the bedroom. I squirm and laugh, and my hand ends up in Bash’s hair. I give it a tug and am rewarded with a playful growl as he tosses me onto the bed. The bed he has crafted is beautiful, and I am once again lost in his duality. He is a powerful warrior who can wield his warhammer like no other, and yet he created and carved the delicate wooden features adorning our headboard. He seems hard on the outside, so intimidating and yet he kisses me so softly. 

He climbs up with me and pulls my legs on either side of his hips, perched up on his knees. My hand splays across his stomach and I feel the muscle there, covered in a layer of softness that makes me find him all the more appealing. I gawk at him, tracing the tattoos and scared planes of his body. 

“See something you like?” His large hands run over my thighs, the fingertips dipping under my nightdress on each pass.

“I see a lot I like,” I quietly admit,  finally lifting my gaze to meet his. A pleased sound leaves him. He kisses me and pulls me even closer, so much so that the heat between my thighs settles on his manhood. I can’t help but grind myself into him. 

“I want to make you sing for me,” He tells me, and he slinks down the bed. I push myself up onto my elbows and watch his broad shoulders push apart my thighs. I can feel a deep throbbing in my core, and I gasp when his fingers trace the lines of my underclothes. His other hand moves upward and settles on my stomach before he pulls my underwear aside. 

His warm breath washes over me, and he places the gentlest of kisses around the apex of my thighs before licking a broad stripe along my folds. I fall back onto the bed writhing , my hands digging into the sheets. He starts to lick and kiss at my clit, and a strong finger finds its way to my entrance. My back arches and a moan leaves me at the pleasure he is giving. His other hand wanders up the bed to meet one of mine, untangling my fingers that were clutching the sheets. As his finger pumps into me in time with his mouth moving on my clit I cannot hold in my noises. 

“Bash, please,” I moan out to him, unsure what I am asking him for. His answering rumble vibrates through me and his tusks start to dig into my soft flesh. He adds another finger and I feel myself quickly tighten around them. The crooking of his fingers and the pressure on my clit increases and a knot builds in my stomach. The noises leaving me increase as well, but everything quiets the moment that I find my release. Fireworks go off behind my eyes, my legs tighten around his head and my hips jerk. He sounds like a man feasting, grunts and groans leaving his mouth. He does not relent until I am jerking away from the stimulation with a whimper, the ecstasy too much. 

“Bash, c’mere,” I pull at his shoulders, my request coming out a breathless whine. When he looks up at me he is debauched. His eyes are full of desire and my wetness covers his mouth and chin. As he moves up my body, he pulls my underclothes off of me as well. 

“Did you enjoy me, my songbird?” He inquires, laying kisses up my arm as sparks continue to dance on my skin. I give a breathy yes in response to him. I reach my hands out to pull him down over me, and his arousal is evident as it presses into my stomach. I arch into it and my desire is reborn. I reach down and run my fingers along his shaft over the loincloth still covering him. I pull at the edges of the cloth and it falls down, releasing his heavy cock. 

I feel my mouth water at the sight of it. It hangs beneath its own weight, and I bring my hand up to hold it. The hot flesh pulses in my hand, and I feel my entrance pulse in answer. It’s an even darker green than the rest of him, and more tattoos swirl near the base of it. Fluid leaks out of the tip, and I run my fingers over it, coating the head. When I look back at Bash’s face, I am not disappointed. His eyebrows are knitted together and his eyes are dark with want. I hold his gaze and give a tentative stroke, letting his hips jerk into my hand. My other hand comes up to caress his heavy sack, gently massaging him in time with the strokes. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come from your hands alone if you don’t stop that, woman,” he snarls out, but I only slow down my efforts.

“Don’t you want to?” I ask him sweetly, leaning up to kiss his neck. 

“Minx,” he scolds me in good nature, then leans down to snarl darkly in my ear. “I want to feel you come around my cock when I release. I want to fill you up so much you leak my seed for days, and any Orc who comes near you will smell my claim on you.”

His words alone cause a whimper to leave my mouth. “Please,” I breath out, wanting nothing more than for that to come true. He strips me of my nightdress, and I take his hands in mine and pull him back with me on the bed, curling one of my legs over his hip. His cock runs through my folds, my wetness coating him, before he notches the head at my entrance. He sucks and licks at my tits before smoothly thrusting into me, my nails coming up to dig into his back. My cunt is tightly wrapped around him, every vein of his cock pulsing inside me. He is so much bigger than me in every way, and I’m surprised he fits inside of me without pain. The stretch is uncomfortable at first, but soon fades as my pleasure crests. 

“Look how well you take me, songbird. Will you sing to me again?”  He punctuates this with a hard thrust, and I let out a long moan. I feel my power imbed itself into my voice, but I cannot help it. Tendrils of my magic reach out and touch him, caressing his skin and coaxing out more desire with my noises. His movements speed up, and I hear grunts leave him. Bash brings his face to my chest, growling into it. Pleasure builds in me again, and as I wail out my climax Bash follows me. He buries himself deep within me and pumps me full of his seed as he promised, his hands holding tight to my sides. 

Fucked out mewls escape my lips and Bash coos down at me, praises passing through his lips. He gently rolls off of me and lays beside me. 

“You’ve conquered me, my songbird. I don’t think I can feel my legs,” he teases, petting me sweetly as I come down from my high. He manages to clean us up before he throws blankets over us both. As I’m drifting off, I feel a kiss to my forehead and Bash mumbles to me.

“I can’t wait to cook for you in the morning, my love.” 

[artcalledtattoo]

Will It Work To early to really know I’m not a joker It was a picture But at the same time I love the Steve Miller Band Dilemma Smart and disciplined clowns Where does trump fit into that line? He composed & watched his symphony in a room it’s a television Probably same room Marilyn not Monica No cameras or audio feeds If so let’s see Trump dancing and a hollering at petitioned bulletproof glass I know they have Guns Beyond me, as long they don’t shot me, they will hate Pence Gallows Shadows in trees and armed My people my Presidency Now disregard ties to spit in Putin invasion Seeds of sunflowers dying Said in a way of America again American Way Will It Work Pay me to quit A few years ago said I can’t deal with anymore Feel my heart (I feel like the Indian in one flew over the cuckoos nest.....never finish the story) In my ways I hope so Fuck Trump Fuck Putin I won’t stop, until vocals dry up, hearing impaired, they assault every night to keep up, mental beatings everyone playing parts, Guantanamo playlists year after year, I hold myself together, don’t leave at clock out but tomorrow walk-in later a truck is in the store over time a thing of no more, but we worked slower than on regular clock, in the time, carry on Fubar in stored Trash can here’s now not their but back again and they killed our hydrated and feed fuel our stomachs platform one and only to maintain their energy Am I snitching Will it work Next week over abundance of weight Heavy pounds thy will receive in the store Take pictures of inner workings I could Snapped a few on sto phone Not available today I know I sent them no where but needed to know Ripped away give me the cords Rewrap a speaker with to many chorded Connections Keep him from next election Stop him from invading Trumpism Putinism Had I not third line would you have vote for me that past post a joke like Halloween picture, it was Halloween folks Not a jester nor a puppet I’ll try to make It work To not be voted in again If nothing else But how many died of Corona Virus A beer for some and non Hispanics Minorities taken out first, remember Walls to keep out or just to incubated Within maybe, virus has not appeared as a threat, as Capital assault, maybe will back and answers will be given years later like JFK magic bullet, that company tried to open minds, no one still, gives a shit Pay Attention That’s thee problem I work and vent Will it work Hmmmmmm

[twdmusicboxmystery]

11x02: Acheron, Part 2 - Analysis

Okay, let’s talk 11x02. And 11x01. Because it’s a two-part episode, it’s important to consider them together. I have a LOT to say about what’s going on in these two episodes, so I’ll have plenty to post all week. Let’s dive in!

***As always, spoilers abound below for TWD 11x02. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

Maggie

The first thing we see is a point of view from under the train car. The instant I saw that, I knew how things would go. I never thought Maggie would die (if nothing else, there are scenes with her in the trailer we haven’t seen yet) but I was curious as to how she would survive. When I saw this POV, I knew she’d end up crawling under the train. Just as Glenn crawled under the dumpster. Massive parallels to Glenn. Which by extension, massive parallels to Beth. Major resurrection theme.

It's also important that when she reappears, she comes from underneath the car. Obviously, that’s logical given that she crawled underneath the car, but they make a point of asking if the pounding is coming from the roof. Gabriel says no and then they open the bottom hatch for her. Her coming up from the ground like that is a visual representation of a resurrection.

So we see Gabriel, Negan and the others enter the train car. The spatial details here are important, and I had to watch the episode twice to get them all straight. It’s a little confusing the first time. So, the group jumps down into the train car through a hatch in the roof because they couldn’t get the door open in the last episode. The thing is, if you watch closely, you come to realize they’re not in the train car on the end. They must have walked along the roof for two or three cars before finding a hatch that let them in.

So, when Gauge shows up, he comes behind them, and that confused me because I was thinking they came from that direction. And they did, but they entered through the roof, not the door. Anyway, they can’t get the door open. So honestly, even if they’d tried harder, I’m not sure they could have saved him.

This scene accomplished a lot of things, character-wise, that we need to touch on. It’s important to note that Gauge’s death happened due to his own choices. Does that mean he “deserved” to die or that they shouldn’t have tried to save him if they could have? Of course not. No on both counts. But that doesn’t change the fact that his choices sealed his fate.

It's especially interesting that he called Maggie a Liar. Not only is that a throwback to the Governor, but it’s a particular type of mentality they’re showing here. Even the fact that he didn’t shut the door behind him is really interesting. My first thought was to be annoyed with him. Why WOULDN’T you shut the door. You live in this world. You know better. But it’s all ego. He can’t imagine something bad will happen. He just assumes if it does, someone will save him.

But the most telling thing was how angry he got before saying Liar. It just shows very much how he approaches life. When he messes up, he doesn’t feel bad, and accept that it was his fault, and try to learn from it. No, instead he gets pissed and blames everyone but himself and his own actions.

If this had been Daryl or Gabriel or Alden or any of our other heroes, they would have recognized that opening the door would have gotten their friends and family killed and would have sacrificed themselves. Especially if they realized they’d screwed up. But Gauge became angry and defiant, even killing himself.

Anyway, I’m rambling. This really has nothing to do with Beth or TD other than perhaps being a future template for something. But I thought it was a really fascinating character sketch.

The thing is, this isn’t really a matter of Gauge being wrong and everyone else being right.

Maggie is…not doing so well either. As I told my fellow theorists, Paola Lazaro said in TTD last week that Maggie was kind of off the rails. I think she said that a little prematurely, because we really didn’t understand Maggie’s state of mind just by watching 10x17 and 11x01.

It's not until she tells that messed up story about the house she found and the people in it that we understand that her state of mind really isn’t at its healthiest. Even saying she wanted to kill Negan before is…understandable given their past. But it makes more sense now why Negan is so nervous. He’s sensing her state of mind that her moral conscience isn’t as strong as it once was, so of course he’s fearful for his life.

I don’t know where they’re going with this Maggie story line, but I have a feeling this attitude of hers will cause conflict down the road. Several of my fellow theorists believe it will cause a rift between her and Daryl. And we can see that somewhat through Alden. At first, he was very much defending Maggie, especially against Negan. He has a lot of loyalty to her. But he didn’t like her abandoning Gauge, and you can see his loyalties starting to waver.

At the very least, what she said about not feeling anything about it is the opposite of what Beth always stood for. Daryl was trying hard not to feel things during Still, in the wake of the prison going down. She made him feel things because that’s the only way a person is truly living, rather than just surviving. Now Maggie is in that state of mind.

And I’m gonna argue that makes it a prime time for Beth to return to help her. But of course I’m completely objective over here. ;D

Maggie’s Story:

Maggie’s story was definitely dark and horrible, but interesting to analyze. I’m assuming there was cannibalism going on there. That’s why the missing limbs. The men in the house were eating the female prisoners. No only a callback to Terminus, but remember that Bob’s leg was taken for food, so I’m sure that’s what we’re supposed to infer here.

She talked about no eyes, no tongue, no limbs, vocal cords ripped out. So definitely the see no evil, speak no evil themes. With the limbs, it’s also a matter of not being able to escape or save themselves.

In terms of the plot, I do have one question about this that I think may be significant. Maggie first talks about three deformed people (she says, “I wouldn’t call them men”) coming toward her. She kills them, and only after that hears the noise from the attic.

My question is, why were they deformed? If they’re “men,” then they must be at least Maggie’s age, if not older, which means they’ve been around since before the apocalypse began. Even eating human flesh doesn’t cause one to become deformed, so why the deformities? I have no idea, but I wondered if there is a radiation theme going on here. Something they’re hinting at, but not saying. Just thought that was intriguing.

After that, things go sideways and everyone almost dies until Daryl arrives to save the day. So, let’s skip to his story.

Daryl:

We first see him bust through a wall with Dog. So, dog took off in the last episode, but the first time we see Daryl, he’s already found Dog again. At least, the first time. This is where he sees the murals on the wall, the walker with the handcuff and the suitcase of money, etc. I already talked about most of that in great detail HERE, so I won’t rehash it, though it’s very important.

One thing I will say about the mural is that thematically, it’s a match to Still. So, in the golf club, we had lots of rich people who clearly hid there when the world first went bad. And I don’t remember this particularly, but several of my fellow theorists have told me they remember the TTD after Still and that the writers talked about how the golf club was a statement about the class system. You have these very rich people, but their wealth couldn’t save them. Death, walkers, the apocalypse…none of these things discriminate based on wealth or position.

On the wall, we see people with crowns standing at the top, but below, they are homeless, and one of them is being attacked and torn apart. Meanwhile, Daryl sees a line of text that says, “it comes for us all,” probably meaning death.

Well, guess what? Angela Kang, in talking about the murals, said that this, too, was a statement about the class system. So thematically, this is meant to be a parallel to Still.

It’s just interesting to contemplate because if you think about it, most of our heros—Rick, Daryl, the Greene family, etc—weren’t at all wealthy. Rick was humble and well-grounded. Hershel worked hard his whole life and never had any glory or fanfare. And then there’s Daryl, who was “nothing. No one.” They all survived.

So of course it’s a socioeconomic statement, but it’s also one about mindset. It takes not only grit to survive this world, but a certain amount of humility. Ego always gets you killed eventually, as it did with Gauge.

I’ll also mention that I thought the guy with the crown who was being torn apart was being set upon by walkers, but AK says they’re specifically not walkers. They’re people.

So, it’s not a coincidence that we see this juxtaposed with the Gauge situation. His ego gets him killed and we literally see him being torn apart because of it.

Moving on.

Daryl finds a bag with a $100 bill with a letter written on it. This is a massive TD clue from start to finish. 100 is an important number. The hundred dollar bill features Benjamin Franklin on the front and Independence Hall on the back. Look either of those up and you’ll find lots of fun parallels we could point to. I won’t go into all that today except to say it’s definitely part of the Revolution theme.

This is what’s written on the bill Daryl finds:

“Dear Dad, you always said if you don’t come back in a week to move on. Mom didn’t listen and went looking. It’s been three weeks, so we’re going next. I’ll watch Jesse and turn on the radio every day at 10. See you both soon. Love Tom and Jesse.”

He also finds a picture of two kids. So, the “three weeks” jumps out because of Rick’s line in 5x10, “it’s been three weeks since Atlanta.” It’s also about missing family members, going searching for them, etc. Possibly important that the mom is also missing. I can’t help but think of the song from Still. “Our mother has been absent, every since we founded Rome…”

There is a 10 in there, which is an important number. The turning the radio on every day is both the radio/airwaves theme (also a line from the song) but a callback to Rick and Morgan and their walkie talkies. So, really interesting symbols here.

The two kids immediately reminded me of Noah’s twin brothers. I don’t think these two are supposed to be twins. I’m assuming the brother is older. But still obviously siblings. And it hearkens back to the last episode Beth was technically in. Which also had a lot of the CRM/Revolution theme in it. (X, X).

AK says this family probably didn’t make it, so I’m not expecting these kids to show up in the narrative. But it’s also important to note that the little girl is carrying the toy rabbit Maggie found earlier. So the rabbit also ties into all this symbolism. (P.S. I didn’t get to my rabbit post last week. I planned on it, but time got away from me. I should get it posted later this week.)

So, this is massive in terms of TD symbolism. I’ll talk about it fits into the bigger narrative in a minute.

Then Daryl kills the sleeping bag walker. I wasn’t sure the significance of this at first, but I think it ties to the tents and sleeping bags we saw in Atlanta in 5x06, Consumed. Daryl and Carol passed them while looking for Beth. So, this just shows us that this is tied to her storyline and Daryl searching for her.

You could also argue that the walker was “hidden” at first, and it’s significant that Dog found it/realized it was there before Daryl did. 

The other thing is that as he’s looking at the sleeping bag walker, there’s a random shoe on the ground next to it. Missing Shoe/Foot theory, which is also indicative of Beth. 

They hear another roaring sound and Dog takes off, running into the dark tunnel.

Here’s the thing. I think most people will assume the roar he heard was just more air being forced through the tunnels by the storm, as Alden explained it in ep 1. But I always watch with the subtitles on and I noticed at this part, the subtitles said, “Man Roaring.” So they actually did hear someone screaming. And that’s probably why Dog ran toward it.

After watching it again, I realized it’s probably supposed to be Roy. He’s the white-haired guy, played by C. Thomas Howell, who Daryl finds wounded after he emerges from the Tunnel. I think whatever happened to him when he went topside but then got attacked by walkers is what Dog heard and went running toward.

Maybe not terribly significant in the plot, but it’s important symbolically. Because once again we have something Daryl hears from a distance but doesn’t see. Dog (a proxy for Beth) runs toward it, and Daryl follows. When he does, he find someone who had previously separated from the group. They’re hurt, but alive. See the parallels?

I will say the Roy situation confuses me just a little. He’s clearly hurt, and when Daryl tries to bandage him, he refuses, saying, “just tell my kids I didn’t die a coward.” But then later he’s with the group, all bandaged up, and seems to be okay. (He dies when they reach the Reapers by taking an arrow to the head, so he still dies overall.) But it’s just weird that it seemed he would die, then seemed he was fine again.

It may well be something that foreshadows a future situation, and that’s why it’s not making tons of sense right now. Only time will tell.

Anyway, I kind of glossed over Daryl crawling through the dark tunnel. I don’t have much else to say about it except that it’s a SUPER potent symbol for Beth’s arc and very important that he emerges on the other side and finds this person. Annnd then goes to save TF. (Dark Tunnel Symbolism).

So, he hears the gunshots and finds the train they’re on. He comes up behind the walkers attacking them from the front, kills them, moves the bench blocking the door, and lets everyone through. Then he uses a grenade to blow up all the walkers. (Ew.)

After that they all get out of the tunnels and go topside. The next scene is also super important. We see the stars above. That’s partly to show that the storm has passed now, but also constellations = Sirius.

Maggie asks what he has and he tells her about it. There is one weird moment in this scene. When she tells them about the supply depot she wants to stop at, she says Georgie (from S8) set it up for emergencies, for people on the outside to use. When it says this, the camera focuses on Daryl for a LONG moment, and he looks almost sad. I’m not sure what they’re trying to tell us there.

Anyway, they all head out. Unfortunately, when they reach the right neighborhood, the Reapers are there to meet/kill them. And Roy is the first to go.

So, a couple of things here. I’ll probably do a details post because I’m leaving out MOST of the background details throughout the episode, and there are a lot of them. Lots of details to be gleaned in this scene.

But the second time I watched it, I was struck by the people hanging upside down. Obviously a grim sight, but it occurred to me that these people hanging this way look a LOT like the deer diagrams from Scars. Let me show you some pictures:

Top pick is 11x02. Middle and bottom one are from Scars.

See what I mean? So, chances are something about Scars foreshadowed the Reapers, which is interesting. They clearly see human beings in a certain way (as animals to be strung up and…perhaps eaten?) And that makes me think that what Maggie found in that house may tie into the Reapers as well. Just kind of interesting foreshadows of coming plots.

Eugene:

Let’s talk Eugene and then I’ll shut up for today. Eugene’s stuff was very intriguing. First thing you need to know. And understand, I didn’t know this. @wdway​ pointed it out. Some months ago, the actress cast as “Stephanie” was announced. This is her:

And that’s clearly not the woman who steps into the train car at the end. Which means this isn’t really Stephanie. She’s a decoy. In fact, the actress from this episode is billed on IMDb as “woman 2,” not as “Stephanie.”

Knowing that, if you go back and re-watch the parts with Eugene’s group, they mean something very different.

On the surface, it seems that Zeke, Yumiko and Princess are taken away in a sinister fashion. Then Eugene melts down and tells his story. (Note: while he focuses on his feelings for Stephanie and I think most of that is true, he still says he lied both to her and to his friends about being from a large settlement. So, he’s still keeping large chunks of the truth from them.)

Again, on the surface it seems that they accept his explanation and just decide to allow them all in. All the stuff with the other three is just a misunderstanding.

But if “Stephanie” is a decoy, that can’t possibly be the case. I think Zeke and the others told Eugene the truth as they know it, but they’re all still being manipulated.

After Princess left to pee, the guy told Eugene no one was in the room and acted like he had no idea who Princess was. They were definitely using psychological torture on him, trying to break him.

I think they know very well that Eugene's group is still lying about their settlement, and they're using a decoy "Stephanie" to find out the truth.

My point is that it goes back to the hallucination, making-someone-think-they're-crazy theme. It will be really interesting to see how this unfolds, because there's all kinds of psychological shenanigans going on here.

@galadrieljones​ made a really interesting connection some time ago. She noticed that back in 10x18, at Leah’s cabin, there is a metal, heart-shaped chair. The same chairs show up in the Commonwealth’s sales video from the trailer. So there’s some kind of link between Leah, Daryl’s memory of her, and the Commonwealth. We don’t know what it is yet, but all of this gives credence to the idea that she is either an outright hallucination, or Daryl is just remembering things wrong.

It also might mean that the Reapers are connected to the Commonwealth in some way. We don’t really know yet, but I’m having tons of fun trying to figure it out.

I want to touch briefly on the train car theme. Once again, there’s a parallel in both story lines (Terminus, and this one at the Commonwealth). Daryl’s group is in train cars this episode. And while Eugene’s group has been at a different compound, they started in the train yard and end in it here. But what I noticed is that Eugene enters the train car at the end, which is furnished inside, and finds his friends there. They all have a happy reunion.

It made me think of the fact that when Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and Carl enter the train cars at Terminus, there is also a family reunion. What happened beyond that was not good or easy. Clearly, Terminus was not a good place. Many of them almost died at the trough and they had to fight their way out through a walker blood bath.

I’m just saying that, while it obviously won’t play out exactly the same way, something similar is probably waiting for Eugene’s group outside that train car. Not good.

Acheron Overall:

Okay, let’s get to the big cheese, here. The overall narrative. The template.

These two episodes are called Acheron part 1 and part 2. So here’s the skinny:

Acheron = Underworld. Daryl’s group going into the subway tunnels (dark, underground) is what constitutes Acheron and why the episodes are called that. That’s why, at the end of this episode, they emerge from the tunnels onto the surface (i.e. the living world).

Given all the death, cemetery, and dark tunnel symbolism around Beth, given that she ventured into the land of the dead by being shot, maybe clinically dying for a time, and being thought dead for so long, what this tells me is that everything that happens in these tunnels is a foreshadow and template for what will happen this season.

I maintain that Dog = Beth and we will soon see something where Daryl hears something (not necessarily her; it was a man screaming so I still think it will be Rick he hears word of) and goes chasing after it. While searching for it, he stumbles across Beth. Then the two of them (both Dog and Daryl returned to the train car) go back in time to save TF from something.

This is most likely why the Roy thing is weird. In a super understated way, he represents Rick in the template. Daryl will find him, but only after he finds Beth. Even consider what Roy says. He says, “tell my kids I didn’t die a coward.” And that’s all well and good, but did we even know Roy had kids? No. Have we met them? No. But who has kids that Daryl IS concerned with? That would be Rick.

So I’m thinking that maybe when Daryl finds Rick, Rick will think he’s dying for some reason, and that’s why the dialogue here. But he won’t, which is why we see Roy with the group later.

And no, I’m not thinking that Roy dying via the Reapers will extend to Rick. It’s more like what they’ve done with countless characters that have been Beth proxies. Eventually, they kill them off. He’s a minor character they were using as a proxy, and when they are done with him in the narrative, he becomes walker chow. Or, in this case, Reaper fodder.

Anyway, I think everything will end up being a foreshadow for something. Maggie and Negan. The Gauge situation. All of it. I’ll try to keep coming back to this as the story progresses to show what everything foreshadows. I’ll stop there for today.

[anon-natalia-romanova]

When I come to, I can feel the burn in my shoulders from the strain my body weight places on the joints. I’m hung from the ceiling of another concrete box. There are three men in this box with me, two in tactical gear, one in medical attire. The doctor holds a leatherbound red journal, a red star stamped into the front of it.

“Это те слова, которые, по вашему мнению, будут лучшими?” (These are the words you believe will be best?)

“Мы наблюдаем за ней с самого начала. Они будут работать.” (We’ve been observing her from the start. They will work.)

“Тогда приступим.” (Then we shall begin.)

We couldn’t have known that they had been writing my trigger words since their arrival at the Widow compound. Plucking concepts from my experiences with you so that they could latch their control like a strong silk spiderweb in the folds of my brain.

My breathing picks up as one of the men in tactical gear approaches me, another baton. Only this one is different, the head on it is wider and the warning zap is louder than the ones that I’ve heard before. They don’t fit me with a mouthguard, so I steel my jaw to try to avoid biting my tongue.

“Кинжал” (Dagger)

White hot pain sears into my ribs. Flashes of fingertips along my ribs and black blades before I lose too much oxygen in my brain. Blue eyes begging permission.

I scream out when electricity meets the skin where a scar sits, the steel in my jaw melting. My legs kick. There’s no muffle to the echo around this room as the sound ventures down the hall.

“Три” (Three)

A body falls somewhere, blood spilling from the back of their head. All I can feel is rage and the instinct to protect. Heavy metal thrown and defenses broken.

The muscles in my shoulder turn rigid when the baton is set to the back of my neck. I lift myself a couple inches from where I hang, my body willing the current to stop.

“Крах” (Collapse)

Pressure against my back and wavering vision. Cold metal, smaller than before, clutched in my hand. Someone hovering above me. War rages in the ocean.

Vocal cords rupture under crackling current at my throat. I meet the eyes of the man holding the baton, vacant expression until I spatter blood from my mouth on his face, ragged breath and coughing forcing the velocity. Then it contorts into anger.

“Выбранный” (Chosen)

A tall woman looks displeased. My stomach swoops. So does her fist. My head turns, all of my molars feel out of place. Someone is angry that a doll has been broken. A crumbling porcelain face that can’t be glued back together.

I try to shut my mouth before he can set the current to my face. I can smell burning hair and skin as my eyes roll back the tendons in my neck contorting dangerously. I inhale my own blood. Holding on to reality becomes increasingly difficult.

“Затяжной” (Lingering)

Fingertips on my ribs. Soft muscle under my cheekbone. Strong arms under me. Soft hair under my hands. Marble turns to sand.

My right arm feels like it’s going to ripped out of its socket. I’m so tired. I don’t know how much more I can take. My eyes start to flutter when the baton leaves my skin, my pain threshold reached. Somewhere a tap is turned and my skin burns with the sudden feeling of being doused with ice cold water. My eyes are wide open, my teeth starting to chatter.

“Выпускной” (Graduation)

Concrete against my back in a dark box. Agonizing anticipation as a wolf stalks me from the shadows. Bright lights into a low hum. The wolf is so warm.

The process repeats on my left arm, but I can feel a residual current all over from the conductivity of the water. I’m pushed beyond my limit and I can feel a splinter behind my forehead.

“Метель” (Snowstorm)

Endless falling halted by pillow soft snow. Icy air whips my long hair into my face as my tears freeze on my cheek. This coffin is suffocating. Blood stills in my veins as I watch rings of my red curls fly away in the blizzard.

There’s a violent popping in my knee. Tendon rolling over bone and sending pain up my hip and into my spine. I can feel each heartbeat now. I try to count them to keep myself present.

“Удушение” (Choke)

I stare down at chestnut hair and someone batting at my arm. Their fingers are so small. There’s a scar that I recognize on their hand as the black spots begin to invade my vision. My breath is stolen from me and I start batting at the appendage around my throat.

The strain of my core sends pressure into my head and a blood vessel pops in my eye clouding red around my iris. I lost count of my heartbeats. I should start over.

“Смещение” (Shifting)

Wolf stalks from the shadows. Eyes like an endless ocean. He’s wearing a choke chain and the barbs in his neck bleed openly, dripping across the floor as he pads over to me. A low whine sounds from his throat as I reach for him. Just before fingers meet fur he lunges for me, canines finding purchase in the soft flesh of my throat.

My heart starts to stutter in my chest. Skipping beats dangerously. I can’t recall my name. Something with an N maybe? Why am I so cold? My lips have turned blue. There are electrical burns through my clothing on my skin. Breathing is so laborious. I just want to sleep.

“Колыбельная” (Lullaby)

An echo of a song that I heard when I was a small child. The wolf curls around me while I scratch behind his ears. A haunting melody resounds against solid walls as I use his ribcage as a pillow. Impossibly soft and warm for such a large animal. A steady thrum of a heartbeat under my ear as I am lulled into unconsciousness.

There’s a whirring as the ground rushes up to meet my body. I don’t have the strength to brace myself. My wrists are released and I’m hoisted up from the ground, dizzy and barely there. There’s a voice and a tapping on my face.

“Солдат?” (Soldier?)

Through ragged breaths I can feel my throat trying to vocalize words, but they come out broken rasped.

“Готовы соответствовать.” (Ready to comply.)

The three men look between each other. My breaking has been successful, their Red Soldier will need a little bit to recover, but my trigger words are woven into my psyche. My head droops between my shoulders as I’m carried to the showers. Blood trails formed on the floor from my mouth.

I barely register the presence of three additional men while I’m stripped bare. They give a command to a man just as bared as I am and then he comes to me. He holds me up and washes me, so much more gently than I anticipated. I find his eyes behind a curtain of his hair.

That's the same look the wolf gave me before he ripped my throat out.

@fallen-winter-soldier

[consumedkings-archive]

THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.

—part i.

word count: 6k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he's a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. for this chapter in specific, roman likes to take things to the Extreme (i.e., "i'm going to fucking kms if you say this word one more time") but if you're here i imagine you know exactly what he's about.

notes: it's here! i know that most of my followers and friends on here are my friends through my far cry 5 content, but my return to the fic-writing world was inspired by my first longfic in a decade after watching birds of prey. you could say, perhaps, that i have a Type(TM), given that roman sionis lives rent free in my head forever and always. this is the sequel to my work carry your throne, though i like to think it's fairy user-friendly, especially once we really get into the thick of it.

special thank you goes to my beta and the loml, @starcrier; the first person to ever truly recognize varya for the wretched little beast that she is and love her anyway. thank you for being my beta and for loving my girl!

and, of course, another special thanks goes to @shallow-gravy, @vasiktomis, @faithchel, @tomexraider, and @belorage for being so supportive of my foray out of the far cry fandom and back into one that, in a way, brought me here in the first place!

summary: —by dread things, compelled.

roman sionis is the closest he has ever been to having everything that he wants; a perfect wife, a perfect family, a perfect international black-market arms dealing business signed over to him in its entirety. unfortunately for him, there are people in the world who would prefer to see him without, and that has never been a thing that roman has accepted for himself: being without.

(or: a fic wherein the devil spends his time rebuking sin.)

“If one more person says the word ‘chandelier’ in my presence,” Roman announced, drawing all eyes to him, “I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Got it?”

There was a brief moment of silence that lapsed before the murmured acquiescence of the workers marked their return to their work. Blowing hot air from his mouth, Roman raked his fingers through his hair and turned back around to where Zsasz was watching him expectantly.

“What?” He demanded. “It’s my wife’s birthday.” Emphasis on the my, not the wife; it was not a favor Roman was doing for Varya, it was something he was doing for himself.

“V told them she wanted it.” Zsasz gestured to the offensive piece of lighting, which continued to haunt Roman’s waking and dreaming hours with its garish crystalline drippings and expensive bulbs. Ever since Varya had found out his fluctuating approval of the chandelier, it had been in and out of the Black Mask Club more times than he could count. Not that he needed to; he could very well put in or rip out a stupid fucking light fixture as many times as he wanted.

“Well.” Roman pulled a glass out from behind the bar, setting it on the top and dropping an ice cube into it. “She does so love to torture me.”

“It's just a—”

“Do you want my fucking guts on the floor, Zsasz? I mean it. Say the word and I’ll do it.”

The blonde regarded him drily. “No, boss.”

“Blood and guts everywhere.” Roman gestured widely with his free hand. “All over the floor. The bar top. You’ll have to clean it up. Maybe wipe down some of the bottles.”

“I won’t say it.”

“I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet.”

Zsasz’s mouth quirked up in a smile. It said, without saying anything at all, no, you don’t. More agreeably, and with the flash of pearly whites and the capped tooth: “Sure.”

Roman poured well over what would have been considered the polite amount of expensive scotch into his glass, capping the bottle and setting it aside. It had been exactly twenty-four hours of making sure the club was perfectly polished and styled for Varya's birthday; though she was shrewd, she was so preoccupied with the twins and the lawyers and overseas business associates that she barely seemed to notice whatever was coming in and out of the Black Mask Club. He didn’t think she’d had a baby nor a phone out of her hands in over two days, and truthfully, it was starting to become tedious. Now that the twins were a little over a year old, they were supposed to be scheduling their honeymoon.

The delay of it hadn’t been a big deal, at the start. But everyday with you feels like my honeymoon, Varya had demurred months before the twins’ arrival, fluttering her lashes and gliding her fingers along the lapel of his jacket—and not even an hour after she’d curtly informed him that any more chatter, while she was nursing a headache, would be met with a swift and efficient extraction of his vocal cords by her own hands. Motherhood was supposed to have domesticated her, Roman thought, and had done the exact opposite; now, she was more assured of her status and power than ever.

So, yes; Varya had been busy, and he was almost certain she’d forgotten her own birthday. Never mind that everything had to be perfect. Never mind that it had to be immaculate. Never mind that Varya had deigned to order a brand new fucking chandelier from the same place they’d gotten one last time, knowing full well that he had made the executive decision to gut the fucking thing and get it out of his club.

“Tell you what, Zsasz,” Roman muttered, taking a swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, “don’t ever get fucking married. You want someone knowing all the shit that pushes your buttons all the time?”

“Maybe you just got a button pusher for a wife.”

Roman grimaced and took another swallow. It was true. “Fuck off.”

The blonde opened his mouth to say something else—and hadn’t he gotten confident in himself too, since Varya had become such a permanent fixture in their life, constantly goading and coercing him to voice his opinion on things, things that normally he would just defer to Roman on—when the doors to the stairwell and the elevator opened.

Eclipsing the doorway was Armazd, Varya’s hand-picked-from-the-batch-of-Russians-left-over-guard. Armazd had to be easily cresting six-foot-five, his dark beard neatly trimmed and peppered with silver, a scar breaking the color of his top lip. Roman had only ever seen the man swathed in dark clothes, like a fucking mourner on parade. His wife had been the one picked to be the twins' nanny, despite the fact that Roman felt like she barely did anything.

Also hand-picked. Thoroughly vetted. Interrogated for hours. No stone left unturned, when it came to Yuli and Ro.

“What are you doing down here?” Roman barked, coming around the side of the bar to make his way across the room. “You’re supposed to be going up and keeping—”

“She is coming down,” Armazd clarified. “In the elevator. Irina called to tell me.”

“Instead of stopping her?”

“She was—”

The elevator dinged in the hallway, and Roman quickly ducked around Armazd and closed the door into the club behind him. As soon as the doors slid open, he planted a smile on his face and closed the distance between himself and his wife.

Nobody would know, looking at Varya, that she not only barely utilized the nanny that they had furiously vetted and now paid handsomely, but that on top of juggling their twins she was actively in the process of getting a massive, international gun-running business signed over in his name. There was not a single hair out of place, not a single crease or rumple in the sapphire-blue silk of her blouse or skirt; the scent of her preferred jasmine perfume followed her like a cloud. She looked as put-together as the day he’d first seen her standing in his club.

And now, he desperately needed her to stay out of it.

“Kitten,” he greeted warmly, his hands—though gloved—immediately scratching the itch by reaching for her; they captured hers to carefully still her procession to the club’s main room. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be busy for hours.”

“Yuliana has been fussing nonstop,” Varya replied, her voice light despite what could only have been an expression of frustration quickly following, “all while I listen to grown men fussing nonstop at me on the phone.”

Roman feigned a sympathetic noise, bringing her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. “We have a nanny, V.”

“You know better than anyone else,” the brunette murmured, brushing her nose against his as their hands dropped, “that she is inconsolable without you.”

He tried not to look too pleased. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Don’t be modest, Romy.”

“Well, I’ll come up, of course.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And console our princess.” Another kiss, to the other corner. “So that you can continue letting grown men fuss at you.”

She beamed at him prettily, and finally they met in the middle for a real kiss—nothing coy, nothing demure, but lingering warm and just between the two of them.

“I love you,” she purred. “Go on, then.”

And then Varya pulled away, as though to go around him and into the club, and Roman blinked rapidly. He had only just caught her around the waist before she could walk in and pulled her in a full one-eighty until she was facing the elevator again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I was just going to make myself a drink.”

“Encouraging productivity,” Roman replied, hitting the button for the elevator doors to open again. “Ready for all this paperwork to be done, aren’t you? It’s been over a year.”

A year of wading through mafia-esque bureaucracy. A year of listening to Varya say, these things take time. A busy year, to be sure, jam-packed full of things—the biggest wedding in Gotham since its founding, the twins.

A funeral.

Roman tried more and more every day not to think about his (now) brother-in-law’s funeral, the double burial of the only man that might have stood a chance at being loved by Varya more than Roman himself and the only man who had ever been anything like a father figure to her. Family is tedious, he’d wanted to say, brothers and fathers and mothers, the whole lot of them, cut them loose why don’t you? Why should anyone matter to you outside of the twins and I?

Varya glanced at him over her shoulder. “These things take time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mhm.”

“Not to mention, we were a little busy,” she added, eyes narrowing playfully as he nudged her into the elevator, “you know—having children.”

“And what beautiful children they are.” Roman hit the button without looking, the doors sliding shut behind him.

“Well, how am I supposed to suffer through those phone calls without a stiff drink?”

He quirked a brow upward. “I’ll make you a stiff drink, Mrs. Sionis.”

The brunette propped herself up against the back rail of the elevator as it whirred into motion. The corner of her mouth, painted ruby, curved and her head tilted inquisitively. “Oh?”

“Of course,” he demurred, sidling forward and boxing her in against the wall. “I’ll make you a stiff drink—”

He dropped his head to the slope of her jaw to plant a kiss there.

“—you’ll finish up with the lawyers, and put on the dress I bought you—”

Varya hummed and sighed sweetly.

“—we’ll go out to dinner for your birthday—”

He dropped his hands to her hips, planting a kiss on her temple so that he could rumble, “And we can get to work on baby number three, hm?”

A sweet laugh billowed out of her just as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open to bring to Roman the oh-so-sweet sounds of a caterwauling infant. Over the distressed crying was Irina’s voice, shushing and cooing dulcet words in Russian; he could see her swaying to and fro with a swathe of fabric bundled in her arms.

“I almost forgot about my birthday,” Varya said thoughtfully, completely unrattled by the sound of their daughter’s distress. She stepped out from between him and the elevator wall; Roman fell into step beside her easily, the sound of her heels clipping against the floor enough to draw Irina’s eyes to them.

Roman said, “I know you did,” and did not bother to hide his smugness as he held out his arms for the shrieking baby in Irina’s arms. The redhead regarded him with a sort of weary amusement before she acquiesced; with Yuliana safely in his arms, he watched Varya cross the room to turn the automatic rocker that held their son back on to a slow, lulling pace. The freckled infant babbled happily—ever the quieter of the twins—and as Varya said something to Irina in Russian that inspired the woman to depart to the kitchen, she absently picked up a baby blanket from the couch and wandered over to him.

“Yuli,” she murmured, waving her finger at the already-content infant, tucking the blanket around her “is that all you wanted, hm? Just for your papa to hold you?”

“What else could she want for?” he replied confidently. Soothing Yuliana’s fury had become old-hat for him at this point. And, certainly, it pleased him to know that sometimes, the only thing that would make his daughter stop screaming was being held by him. Not even Varya—who had taken to motherhood like a fish to water—bothered when she was in a fit.

Still, the brunette sighed dreamily, her finger captured by their daughter’s tiny hand before she said, “What a perfect little gem.”

Roman hummed his agreement. “Finishing that call with the lawyers?”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Varya replied. “They’re in a mood today.”

“They’re in a mood every day.” Russians, he thought venomously.

“Yes.” She smiled, flashing pearly teeth at him. “But only today is my birthday.”

She had him there. Still, he was itching for the whole thing to be done—Ilarion had dragged his feet through the process of even drawing up the original contract, which had only been a spit in his face (“You are the only person who gets to fuck Varya Astakhova, that is as exclusive as it gets”) and by the time all of that nasty business had been wrapped up, Ilarion was dead.

Ilarion, and Nikita—leaving only a single living soul to be in charge of the Astakhov empire: Varya herself.

Which, she had expressed time and time again, she had no desire for; not in the public way that her father had done it, and Ilarion after them. She much preferred the clerical work of it all. Paperwork and public relations. Let the men do men’s work, she’d demurred one night, tangled up in their sheets, when he’d asked her what she was going to do with it. I don’t mind. They like me better as their madonna, anyway.

“You know,” she continued, breaking him out of his thoughts as she made her way to the bar cart, pouring herself a drink, “they will like you more if it’s you they’re talking to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me or not,” Roman replied, lifting Yuliana with both of his hands so that he could look at her. “Isn’t that right, princess? Mommy gets to do all the paperwork so that your papa can spend all of his time with you, instead of listening to some dumbfucks bitch and moan on the phone.” He glanced at her. “Well, anyway, since it’s your birthday we can let it slide.”

“Very generous of you.”

“Get dressed, won’t you?” he prompted, depositing his now-content daughter in the mobile swing with her brother. “The table’s been ready for us since noon.”

Varya watched him, dark eyes glittering amusedly. “And why, my darling, did you make the reservation for noon? It’s nearly six now.”

“Because,” he replied, “I wanted to make sure they held it, regardless of how long it took us to get there.”

“Ah.” She lifted her chin a little, lashes fluttering with contentment when he reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “Or else?”

Roman flashed her a grin.

“Or else.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They held the table.

“Good for them,” Roman said as they followed the server out onto the balcony. The table had clearly been refreshed—a new candle, a new vase, a new bucket of ice and bottle of champagne. He’d heard the waitstaff whispering furiously among themselves as they idled in the lobby to be taken to their table; now, settled across from the birthday girl, Roman was content with the way they had squirmed.

“Quicker than the two-hour wait last time,” Varya noted by way of agreement, smoothing her hand along the edge of the tablecloth.

He scoffed. The only reason they had waited in the lobby for two hours was because Varya had asked him to stay for the table she wanted. If it had been his way, they would have left with a bloody warning and gone somewhere else. “I can’t believe I finally convinced you to leave the twins home for a night and we got stuck sitting in that fucking lobby because they gave our table away.”

“In my defense, they are good babies, Romy. Hardly ever cry. Certainly not too much trouble.”

“But there’s two of them,” he replied, “and toting two babies around is a lot of work. All I’m saying is, what’s the point of paying her that much fucking money if we’re just going to—”

The waiter came by the table, clearly a little stressed; the lines of concern on his face were clear as he cleared his throat and said, “Should I come back?”

Varya, perusing the menu: “No, my darling, you may stay. You were saying, Romy?”

“I just don’t know why we’re shoveling money into her bank account for her to be a glorified accent chair in our house rather than a nanny.” Roman gestured to the champagne bottle expectantly. “Open it.”

The waiter did as he asked, having been standing there uncomfortably for a moment during their exchange. As he worked to carefully open the champagne bottle, Roman turned his attention back to Varya; her eyes remained on the menu, absently twisting the engagement and wedding band on her finger back and forth.

There was no way, he thought, that she was putting off getting the business signed over to him on purpose. Surely, there was no way; even when Ilarion was alive, even when she had anticipated no further problems, it had always been, if you’re going to be my romantic partner, it seems only right you’d be my partner in business too, don’t you think? And yet—

And yet, Roman could not push down the strange, hazy doubt that occasionally flickered through his mind. He had always wanted Varya, had always found himself wanting and wanting and wanting more and more often, and Varya had always seemed content to indulge him. There was, it seemed, nothing she enjoyed more than indulging him. One more kiss, one more minute in bed, one more lingering glance across the room. She was the absolute pinacle of his hedonism, in every sense of the word, and had proven time and time again that she would give him anything that he wanted.

The business had always been for her and Ilarion. He wanted it, and told her he did, and she said, you can have it, if you like, but like in all things, there was a slyness about his wife—a cruelty—that he found endearing and dangerous. Dangerous, because it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the other end of her cruel nature, playfully poking and unwinding and tugging the thread loose until she had pushed him to the limit.

Something echoed in his head, and he realized that the waiter was asking him what he wanted to eat. Varya had handed the menu over and steepled her fingers, watching him with dark, curious eyes and red painted lips, sooty lashes fluttering. A pretty, painted little snake.

“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Roman said after a moment, setting his menu aside and returning his attention to the brunette across from him. “Something interesting, kitten?”

“Can I not just appreciate my husband?” Varya demurred. “You’re wearing the suit I like best, after all.”

“It is your birthday. What greater gift is there than me?”

She laughed, delighted by him—as she always was—and took a sip of her champagne. “You were away from me, for a moment.”

He watched her, gauging her carefully. Even I know not to drop my pants when a viper opens its mouth, Bianchi had said, just before Varya had unloaded six rounds into his face and chest less than two feet away from him.

“Just thinking,” is what Roman said finally.

“Hm. A dangerous past time.”

His expression flattened, deadpan. “It’s taken a significant chunk of time to secure your father’s business in my name.”

Something flickered across Varya’s expression. at the word father. “To secure my business,” Varya replied, her voice abrupt and cutting, her eyes narrowed, “in your name.” Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked to be composing herself, like she’d spoken on a knee-jerk reaction rather than with thinking.

Then, glossy and silken again: “You know your patience means the world to me, Romy.”

There was nothing that he loved more than watching her pull back her venom for him. Drumming his fingers against the top of the table, Roman bridled his own irritation to say, mildly, “I’d do anything for you. Even wait...” He made a thoughtful noise. “Over a year to finally take on the responsiblities you wanted handed over to me.”

“Of course.” Varya smiled prettily, absently straightening out her silverware. “And we will speak no more of my father on my birthday, or any day after this.”

He knew what that meant. She phrased it pretty, wrapped it up in silk and velvet and presented it to him as unassuming as a doe, but he knew what that meant. There is my button, she was saying, there is my trip wire. Don’t push it, Roman. The name Nikita had all but been banned in their household, even when funeral arrangements were being made; any time he’d heard one of the lawyers mention her father’s name, there had been a sharp rebuke. Not in my presence, she would tell him later, I do not want to hear that fucking name in my presence.

“At any rate, there is nothing that I want more than for this whole process to be done,” she continued lightly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “It was always what I wanted, you know. Ilya was better suited to be a functional piece of the business; he was the face because he had to be, not because he wanted to be, and I am better suited for the nitpicking and the details. Being the overseer is much more in your circle of talents, Romy.”

Her words assauged something unsettled and prickly in him, the sweep of the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand returning that doubtful monster in his mind back to its slumber. He sighed.

“You’re right,” he acquiesced after a moment, “it is more in my circle of talents.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I always got the impression Ilarion wasn’t happy with it,” he added. “Though you two certainly enjoyed making work of me that first night, didn’t you?”

Varya smiled demurely. “It was never meant to make work of you, only to make a good impression.”

“Hm,” he replied, eyes narrowing playfully, “but you enjoy pushing me, V.”

She looked pleased. She always did, when he remarked on something that felt like he was really seeing her, beneath the glossy veneer. His girl did so love being seen.

“Only,” V demurred, “because you so enjoy reining me in.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Roman brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before relinquishing it and glancing around. He would just have to exercise patience, of which he had the most; patience, modesty, and humility, all excellent qualities that he could participate in at will, at any given time. Without any restraint.

“Did the men get the chandelier installed?” Varya idled, snapping his attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes.

“I told you I didn’t want a chandelier anymore.”

She looked at him across the table, dark doe eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you liked how polished they make the club.”

“No, you little viper,” Roman replied, clicking his tongue, “Paolo has a chandelier in his club, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to have people comparing it.”

“Ah,” she murmured, “the drama of the chandelier goes on.”

“And while we’re at it, might as well gut that one from the estate, too.”

“There’s more than one chandelier in there.”

“Then the men will be busy, won’t they?” He tsked his tongue. “I know you dream about watching me blow my top, V, but I’m making an executive decision on gaudy light fixtures.”

A smile flashed across her expression, pearly teeth and delighted eyes. She sighed, almost dreamily, like there was nothing more that she liked than to be doing this exact thing, and with him.

“Oh, Romy,” the brunette said sweetly, “you are the only thing I dream about.” And then, almost as an after thought: “Gaudy light fixture terrorism included.” She waved her hand to dismiss any protest or rebuttal he might have given her and said, “Now, since it’s my birthday, tell me all of the things you love the most about me.”

Roman sucked his teeth, eyeing her for a moment as he leaned back in the chair. Wicked little thing, waiting to preen and glow under his attention, a feline seeking him out. Her little bout of cruelty before was already forgiven. He said, “We’re going to be here for a while, if I do that.”

“They held the table for over six hours,” Varya demurred, “I’m sure they’ll hold it for as many more as you need.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they got to the club, Varya was acting as though nothing had happened.

Truthfully, Roman preferred it that way. It just also left a lot of room to wonder—his wife was a talented actress, adept at smoothing his ruffled feathers out and not divulging her own feelings on the matter. And he wouldn’t ask, of course. If Varya wanted to express herself, she would, and had, quite openly in the past.

“I am so happy to be home,” she announced, gliding past the door to the club once Roman had opened it for her. “Do you think the babies are asleep, yet? I always miss putting them...”

Her voice trailed off, pausing a little as she seemed to realize that the club was cloaked in inky darkness, freezing just a few steps past the threshold. Roman let the door swing shut behind him, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back. He was met with some resistance; she steeled, stiffening against his insistence, before taking a few steps forward.

He said, barely keeping the delight out of his voice, “You’re holding up the line, V.”

“Roman,” Varya said, her voice pitched oddly soft and tight, “why—?”

The lights flashed on to a loud, unified cheer of Happy Birthday!; the club had been packed with vases of flowers, the tables donned with food and drink, and everyone worth their salt within a fifty-mile radius had made their way there. Not a single thing was out of place—everything exactly where he had instructed it be placed, and not a fucking chandelier in sight.

Roman came around in front of the brunette, grinning. “Happy—”

He stopped. Varya’s expression was not happy, or even surprised; it was something else, something that he couldn’t read, the pupils of her hot-whiskey eyes blown wide and the normally Renaissance-soft lines of her face sharpened and hardened into an expression that was more vicious.

“V?” he asked. Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second she looked the same way she had that night in the loft, her hands drenched in blood and the kitchen knife clutched in her fist with bodies at her feet: like she didn’t recognize him.

It took a heartbeat, but her expression smoothed out and she smiled, almost sheepish—like she’d been caught doing something naughty, instead of being caught being somewhere else. Someone else, more the wolf than the girl.

“The lights,” she explained, hands resting on his chest, “they startled me, is all.”

A frown creased his expression. He brought his hands up to hold her wrists, thumb pressed against her pulse point. It fluttered unsteadily. Unconvinced, Roman pressed, “The lights?”

“Just the lights,” Varya assured him. She tilted her head up and kissed him, one hand departing his jacket to go to the back of his neck—and when she kissed him, he could feel that strange little flicker of energy, like she’d been stamping something out before it could catch, but it still vibrated under her skin.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she disentangled from him and swept around to the crowd of people waiting, beaming prettily and playing at bashfulness, as though she did not enjoy their eyes on her and did not soak their attention up like a flower did sunlight. Whatever had been plaguing her in that moment was now gone, and she was awash with attention and love, thanking people profusely and accepting each hug and cheek-kiss directed her way.

Roman brushed off the odd feeling that she wasn’t being as forthcoming with him as he would have preferred—no secrets anymore, isn’t that what they’d agreed on?—and instead waded into the crowd. Music kicked on overhead; chatter picked up to a warm humming around them; there was nothing else to think about except letting his girl enjoy her birthday celebration.

By the time Varya had made a suitable number of rounds (which tended to verge much higher than one, much to Roman’s chagrin—what tedious work, to share her with everyone else), she had barely sipped the glass of champagne someone had planted in her hand. She circled back to him eventually; like always, there was that pinprick tugging in the cavity of his chest, like they were bound by a single thread that kept them from parting too much and too quickly, and when she drew closer to him again it oozed relief, warm and vibrant, through his ribs.

“Sufficiently loved on?” he asked as she neared, hand reaching up to slide around her waist.

“By them? Certainly.” The brunette’s hand smoothed along his shoulder, the pad of her thumb gliding across the velvet of his jacket. “By you, though, not hardly. Not ever.”

“You are insatiable,” Roman agreed in a rumble. He splayed his fingers against the small of her back, tugging her in closer and brushing their noses together.

“Just for you,” Varya murmured, and the words brushed their lips together just a little—but everything with Varya, like this, felt like almost-kissing, enough to push him to some kind of edge where his stomach twisted and wrenched with want when she added, “And only for you.”

“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like that.”

She laughed, leaning in to set her glass to the side and curl her fingers into his shirt for a kiss; everything for a second felt normal, and good, and right again, the strange way she’d gone-away back in the doorway having disappeared, the dark cloud over her having cleared, her wretchedness from dinner dissipated.

And Roman kissed her, with the sound of the party chatter ringing in his ears, and kissed her with the faint taste of champagne flooding his senses when she parted her lips against his, and kissed her while his hand fisted the fabric of her dress and he managed out in a voice rough with want, “So you’re trying to rile me up.”

“I always,” Varya murmured against his mouth silkily, “want you riled, Romy.”

“Varya?”

A stranger’s voice filtered through the haze—the rose-colored one that usually accompanied Varya saying anything like she wanted him riled up—and Roman felt the irritation spike straight through it. He turned to look at the interruption at the same time that Varya did, only to find a young, handsome blonde standing just a foot away.

Varya said, sounding faint, “Maxim?”

“It has been a while,” the blonde said, and he sounded sheepish. “I called Armazd, asking after you—”

“Sorry,” Roman interjected briskly, fingers still curled—now possessively—into the fabric of Varya’s dress against the dip of her spine, “but who are you?”

His wife started to say, “Romy, this is—” at the same time that the man began, “I am sorry, my name—” and they both stopped at the same time, a strange little silence stretching between them.

“Maxim,” Varya said after a second, turning to look at Roman now. “This is Maxim. He is Artyem’s son.”

Roman stared at her, more to buy himself time than anything; she said the name like he was supposed to know who that was. Artyem, but it didn’t sound familiar. Almost any Russian name sounded like gibberish to him, and if Varya had said it to him, it had been in passing, an afterthought, nothing but a whisper of information passed between them before it was gone again.

Until it did. Until he remembered that the person Varya had thought was her father had actually been Artyem, that she’d poisoned him, let him bleed to death on the carpet while she had mentally checked out of the moment. That she had watched him die, but she had been somewhere else—someplace else, the way Ilarion had described it, very far away where she couldn’t even enjoy what she’d done fully.

And Maxim—golden, and polished, and clean-shaven—looked awfully pleasant for someone whose farther had choked to death on his own blood because of Varya.

“I see,” Roman said, even though he didn’t. His gaze turned to Maxim. “And you’ve—shown up without calling ahead?”

“I have been in Turkey,” Maxim explained, “finishing up some business, and I did not know how to get in touch—”

“Well, you spoke with Armazd, didn’t you?” Roman’s head tilted. “The man practically sleeps in our bed, I imagine he would have been happy to get you in contact with us.”

“Admittedly,” Maxim said, “I wanted it to be a surprise—”

No, Roman thought absently, venomously, that won’t do at all.

“—Varya’s birthday—”

“So you slunk in,” Roman elaborated tartly, “like a little street dog, hm?”

“Maxi,” Varya interjected, fingers absently tracing the stitching on Roman’s jacket, “why don’t you go get a drink and acquaint yourself with our friends? Armazd is just there—you see?”

Maxim’s eyes darted between her and Roman for a minute. He shifted on his feet, tilting and giving a little smile that might have liked abashed if Roman didn’t think he saw a little squirm of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Fucker.

“Of course,” the blonde replied after a moment. “C dnyom razhdyenyem, Varushka.” He took a step forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Varya’s thumbnail dug into the lapel of Roman’s jacket. “Thank you, Maxi.”

Once the blonde had departed, linking up with Armazd in the crowd to get introduced, Roman straightened up from the bar. It was impossible not to stare at this newcomer—he glowed with an easy charisma, flashed bright smiles that were all teeth. Roman hated him already.

“Maxi?” he asked her, eyes narrowed, and Varya sighed. He waited for her to elaborate. Perhaps she’d say they had dated once, perhaps they were literally nothing. That would be ideal, after all. Ships passing in the night.

She said, “We grew up together.”

Even worse. Roman twisted a loose, dark curl of hers around his finger. “And you killed his father.”

“Well—” She paused, mouth pressing into a thin line. “He does not know.”

“He doesn’t—” The notion that she was keeping secrets, and not from him, coiled high and happy in his throat. He tried not to sound too delighted when he said, “V, surely he knows.”

“Surely he does not, that I did it. Only that it happened. And I will keep it that way,” she added firmly, picking up her champagne glass from the bar top. “Maxim was incredibly loyal to my father because Artyem was, but more than that—he was mine and Ilya’s friend. I’m sure he is missing Ilya almost as much as I am.”

“As we all are,” Roman agreed sagely, planting a kiss on her temple in spite of the dry look she gave him. It was hard to tell, to get a read on this Maxim. What was it he’d dragged himself out of the trenches for? Just to fly halfway across the world to wish Varya a happy birthday? Above all things, Roman understood that his wife was a desirable thing, and knowing that he kept her out of the reach of others was part of her appeal—but that much? Could someone who was just a friend want that much?

He continued, “So what is it that Maxim offers to the business, hm?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Varya demurred, which didn’t sound at all like the truth. “Artyem was the one who sent him out on jobs. My father kept things tight around the top, you know. If anyone would know what it was Maxim was up to in Turkey who wasn’t my father or Artyem, it would have been Ilarion.”

“I find it hard to believe you have no idea what your father was using someone for.”

The sound of delighted commentary drew both of their eyes away; Irina had come down, both dark-haired infants in her arms, and was walking them toward Varya and Roman. Murmured remarks on what could only be their cuteness passed throughout the crowd of party-goers.

“I am putting them down for bed,” Irina announced as she approached, “and I know you like to say goodnight.”

“Oh, you are an angel,” Varya murmured, glass set aside once again. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to baby Ro’s cheek. Yuliana babbled, and she sighed dreamily, “Have you ever seen more perfect babies, Roman?”

Perfect babies, a perfect wife; soon, he would even have the perfect grip on Gotham’s neck, throttling it until it was nothing but dust and ash. Soon, but not soon enough; he’d be content when it was just done and settled, when there was nothing else standing between him and everything that he wanted. Varya, and the guns—what an odd thing, to know that a year ago he’d set out for this and it was just falling into his lap.

“Romy?”

“Never,” Roman replied, smiling and glancing back at his wife, reaching and cradling the back of Yuli’s head. “I’ve never seen more perfect babies, V.”

Across the room, Maxim watched them. There was something about it that Roman didn’t like—the way his eyes flickered, the way he looked between the children and Varya, the way their eyes met and he didn’t deflect away. Like he didn’t mind getting caught. Where had he come from? What little shithole had he crawled out of, over a year after Nikita’s death and Ilarion’s death—longer, still, since his father’s death? Hadn’t he wondered what had happened to his father?

What are you doing here, he thought venomously, that you think you can just come in here like nothing? Like I won’t root you out like the little rat you are?

Maxim smiled. It was a polite smile, unassuming kind of smile.

Roman picked up his drink from the counter, taking a heavy swallow. Suddenly, the evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him, no finish line in sight.

Nothing else standing between me and everything I want.

And he was going to keep it that way.

[crystalkleure]

Haha hey remember that post I made awhile back, speculating on what a bad idea it might be to fuse dead things in the godless Frankenstein fossil machine

Meet White. He is a reanimated corpse. Two of them, actually. Or more like 1.5. [And I whipped up this half-assed partial reference sheet in one night instead of sleeping, so don’t look too hard at the chickenscratch lineart and visible guidelines, and kindly ignore the total lack of shading as well as any other messy jankiness.]

White is a product of me wondering not only about what happens if you NecroFuse a human with a Pokemon, but also what happens if you make it even worse and specifically fuse that human with a Pokemon capable of mega evolution. Because canon seems to imply that mega evolving is at best deeply uncomfortable -- and at worst outright agonizing -- for whatever creature is going through it.

Character Lore under the cut. Lots of text:

White is one of actually multiple undead guys who got mashed together with bits of dead Pokemon. They’re science experiments, so they've got the dex numbers of the Pokemon they're spliced with tattooed on the backs of their necks, and those numbers were treated as their names In The Evil Science Lab.

In his Original Life, White [and some of his buddies] got gored to death by some escaped Horrible Fucking Monsters that were accidentally [...and then not-so-accidentally] created via Two Pokemon At Once In A Fossil Resurrection Machine, because hey, it is SUPER easy to think you got Just One Thing's Bones from an excavation dig but then later you realize that Some Of Those Bones were from something TOTALLY different that just died in the same place. It happens. So, some Fossil Scientist People accidentally resurrected an Abomination, realized they fucked up pretty fast...and then started wondering if they REALLY fucked up or if this is Cool, Actually. And then the team of Science People split into two Morality Factions, with one half being like “This is unethical as shit, we need to make sure this doesn't happen again because it's not natural so who knows how this poor fucked up creature is suffering” and the other, cooler half being like “WE NEED TO DO THIS AGAIN RIGHT NOW BECAUSE SCIENCE. IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES HOLY SHIT.”

Cooler group splits off from the Horrified Group With Morals, and they promptly use their Science Knowledge to Construct More Machines and Make More Monsters. Doesn't take too long for them to realize, however, that Abomination Pokemon are stupidly hard to control, because not only are they suffering, their masters obviously don't care for their wellbeing, so Revolt Inevitably Occurs and they escape to wreak havoc upon the nearest congregation of townspeople. They promptly maul some people to death at a nearby local rock concert, scientists chase after them to clean up the mess, realize “Oh Shit, Manslaughter Charges Impending”, and then realize...

Science Guy 1: “...Hey, what happens if you put a dead person in the fossil machine?”

Science Guy 2: “Hey, people probably listen better than Pokemon. We can, like, TALK to people.”

Science Guy 3: “Lads, I got a stellar idea just now. And we got plenty of Dead Guys to start with right here! Great way to hide the bodies too, probably.”

This goes approximately as well as you would expect, and precisely as ethically. A smashing success!

However, because they Fucking Died, the reanimated Newly-Monsterized dudes do not remember shit about who they were pre-resurrection. They're not technically even the same people, they’re more like clones. They've been remade. So, all they know now is Science Lab Life, and they have no initial attachment to eachother aside from "that other guy is also a Science Experiment Person just like me, so Same Hat @ Labrat Neighbour ig", in spite of several having been friends or even family prior to death. They also just...don’t know/remember things in general. They are fresh blank slates. And to a morally-bankrupt team of scientists, that’s perfect! They can train these guys to behave however they please!

...However, people might be People Instead Of Animals, meaning they can be Reasoned With And Manipulated And Coerced far better than animals due to their far better communication abilities with the Science People, but...there is Still A Problem in the sense that Holy Shit, A Person Can Only Take So Much. You can only treat someone as "Experiment [number]" for so long, blatantly putting no value on their life outside of The Value Of Scientific Research, in spite of literally basically needing to raise them like a normal child due to the Lack Of Memories issue. Eventually they're not gonna be able to take that anymore and they are gonna Fucking Leave, too. And they’re gonna be much harder to track down than the rampaging Pokemon were. Impossible, actually, once they’ve ripped out their tracking chips.

So then there's just these monster dudes, who don't actually know what they are because they weren't ever told anything more than necessary to get them to cooperate with Tests And Experiments, just Escaped Into Civilization and having NO idea how Anything works. Fun! Especially considering how, at first glance, these just look like Normal Dudes. Their monster bits either aren't apparent or just look like funky body modifications.

They've also got Science Things in them and they Don't Know What The Fuck Those Things Even Are. They've just got these little Devices in/on their chests, and they were never informed of the exact functions of them because there's no reason to explain to the experiment What Is Happening, just that the experiment needs to Hold Still and Cooperate and Now Do This, Now Do This, Now Do That, Good Job That's Enough For Today, etc.

Those devices contain both key stones and mega stones.

If you were a Mad Pokemon Scientist, you would most certainly be interested in the mega evolution phenomenon. What would YOU do if some of your Undead Fusion Experiments happened to be spliced with bits of Pokemon known to be capable of mega evolving? You’d kill two birds with one enigmatic set of stones, that’s what you’d do. Your Frankenstein Experiments can even TALK to you and tell you exactly what they are experiencing when you run tests on them! It’s perfect!

So, if a rock-bearing monster’s heart rate goes too high, part of the little device, which is a barrier between one type of rock and the other, opens up and Exposes One Rock To The Other Rock. Which exposes the monster to the Rock Energy Reaction. The greater the stress, the higher the dose. And I’m sure you can see the snowball effect that’s gonna create, at least the first time or two.

They were INTENDED to eventually be made to Physically Fight With Eachother to gauge the effects of The Rocks™️ when the Guys With The Rocks are under Stress and need to Do Some Self-Defense. The Science Squad was basically trying to suss out the Actual Purpose of mega evolution. Because mega evolution is weird -- it puts ENORMOUS stress on the body of whatever is undergoing it, so the hypothesis was that its true power is probably drawn out best via a perceived life-threatening situation, like it’s a type of hysterical strength, because what else would cause a need for that kind of ability. And aren’t ethics a bit overrated?

So, there’s our premise. White is just wandering around without any particular purpose outside of never ever going back to Science Hell, and he has no clue what the funny little doohickey buried in his chest does until it activates one day and absolutely fucks him up [...as well as everyone around him. Mega Absol radiate an Aura Of Sheer Terror that can literally scare people with weak hearts to death if they’re not careful.]

And now, some Miscellaneous Character Info:

The bit about Lots Of Death happening at a rock concert specifically was important. White was actually the vocalist of the band that was playing. He doesn’t remember that now, but he still loves music and has the same strong vocal cords. And THAT is important because White is partially an Absol now and Absol naturally learns Perish Song. These Fusion Monsters are absolutely capable of using Pokemon moves, though whether they’re aware of this is a different matter entirely. Imagine what happens when they end up tapping into those abilities accidentally.

That band was a relatively-unknown little local band. White was by no means anywhere near famous. Very few people even realized he was gone, and most of the ones who would have noticed also ended up Equally Unalive.

That black stuff between the belts on White’s arms is mesh. Like, stocking mesh. It gets Ripped The Fuck Apart when he goes Mega Mode and his arm fur gets Extra Spiky. Hence one stocking being a bit tattered in that reference pic. He frequently has to replace those things, they are fragile.

“How did White get his name if he doesn’t remember his original name and didn’t have a real name in the lab” I am glad you asked! Post-escape, he eventually encountered a situation where someone asked him what his name was, he bluntly told them “I don’t have one. I am #359.”, they said “Well That Is Not A Name, I need something proper to call you”, and he was just...Super Apathetic. So, the other person picked out the name “White” just based on the fact that White’s hair is white, and he just shrugged and rolled with it.

As you can see in my Incredibly Quick And Rough Sketches, the backs of White’s shirts are open to accommodate that huge amount of fur that bristles out into false wings when he goes Mega Mode. Because his Actual Normal Hair is relatively long and overlaps with that fur, it blends in with his Actual Normal Hair and doesn’t look too odd [when it’s down]. Probably mostly because nobody’s expecting it to be anything OTHER than Perfectly Normal Hair That Just Happens To Be Very Long.

White does not particularly like violence. White does not want to beat you up. He will, though, without a bit of hesitation, if there’s some logical reason he feels like it’s the most practical course of action. Being essentially raised by Cold, Emotionally-Sterile Scientists With No Care For The Wellbeing Other Living Beings uh, tends to affect a guy a little bit. White has a bit of an internal dilemma regarding “It would be efficient for me to just Harm This Other Person to defuse the current situation, because attempting nonviolence will be overall more risky somehow” vs. “Holy shit it feels bad when I hurt people. Why does it feel bad when I hurt people. Is it...SUPPOSED to feel bad when I hurt people?? No one ever felt bad for hurting me.” He Figures Out How Empathy Works Eventually. He is a good guy at heart. He is a Monotone Snarker, but not actually Cold or Malicious at all.

If an Absol can do it, White can probably do it. He has incredibly keen senses and a STRONG ability to Detect Impending Doom. He has exactly the amount of Supernatural Absol Powers you would expect. He is also stupidly physically strong, way more so than he appears to be.

White can’t punch people. Look at the fist he’s making in the pic, he’s doing it wrong. If you punch someone like that, you WILL break your own thumb. That’s not a Revving Up To Sock Someone pose, he’s just tense. He’s using his thumb as a buffer between his long-ass Sharp As Fuck claws and the flesh of his palm. If White tries to punch anybody, or just makes a proper fist at all, he will impale his own hand on his nails. Like, all the way through. He CAN slash straight through things like metal and bone with those claws, though.

White...is unsettling. Completely accidentally, and unknowingly. He just radiates an Aura Of Intimidation [...or Pressure], even when not in Mega Mode, that scales depending on his mood. Just being near him tends to put people and Pokemon on edge. Thus, he’s generally avoided.

The latter point is especially unfortunate, because White’s preferred method of Socializing and Bonding is to just kind of quietly hang out in the same room as whoever he is trying to Socialize and Bond with. He just wants to, like...chill out Near A Buddy and watch a movie and share a bag of chips or something. His social skills are predictably not good.

[maaaaaatryoshka0325]

Love the way you hate me - Bang Chan enemies to lovers College AU

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, reader is a virgin, multiple smut scenes, slight triggerish themes

I started writing this while I was hammered, so if there’s any spelling errors, I’m sorry LMAO

You’ve always hated him. His hair, his face, his sexy jawline, his cute dimple, all of it. But most of all, you hated the butterflies that would erupt in your stomach everytime he was near you.

You both had a very obvious dislike for each other, and you both made that clear. He would always tease you, and you would always shoot back a sly remark. He knew you were a virgin, he could tell by the way you acted around guys. At first he thought you were gay, but the way you seemed around men made it too obvious.

“If you ever need help, maybe I can do it.” He’d tease with a smirk. “Maybe I’d make you fall in love with me.”

Fall in love? Yeah, right. But maybe him being your first wasn’t a bad idea. I mean yeah you hated him, but no strings would be attached, right? You already hated each other, so catching feelings was already out of the picture. But how do you ask the swim captain to take your virginity? Would he even accept it?

“Maybe you should try getting some dick.” Your best friend, Minho, advised. “Maybe then you’d stop having an attitude problem.”

“By who Minho? I’m not interested in anyone.” You pointed out, taking a fry from his tray and eating it.

“I don’t know, and personally I really don’t care. Just try and get some dick. Or at least some coochie.” He muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t have an attitude problem.” You argued.

“Really? Because anytime I say something to you snap,” He said, snapping his fingers. “Right the fuck back. Either you need some dick or a whole new attitude adjustment.”

“Whatever.” You muttered, dismissing his rant.

Your eyes fell on Chan as he walked in the room, his group of friends around him. He was laughing and talking to another member of the swim team, Hyunjin. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on yours, making a smirk stretch across his face as he noticed you were looking at him. You rolled your eyes and looked away, catching Minho’s eye.

“What about him?” He asked.

“Bang Chan?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes yet again. “And why would I do that to myself?”

“I mean I don’t know... He’s hot, popular, an amazing athlete, and by what I can tell by the gray sweats he wears... He’s got it all.” Minho pointed out.

“Ew! Minho!” You gasped, smacking his arm. “I didn’t know you had a thing for Chan!”

“Yah! I don’t like Chan. You know I’m a ladies man.” He said with a smirk. “But when girls constantly point it out... You tend to notice.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust, taking a sip of your coke that you had in front of you. Minho kept looking at you before taking a bite of his burger, losing the thought of the conversation as he ate. You looked at Minho for a moment, taking in his features.

If Minho wasn’t your closest friend, you would’ve asked him to take your virginity. He came off as a cold asshole, but he was quite the opposite. He had become friends with you after you both had a group project, and you two were inseparable ever since. You always helped him out with his girl problems, which led him to complaining you never went to him about your guys problems, not that you had any.

But maybe, just maybe, he was right. You and Chan weren’t close, and you definitely didn’t like each other. He would more than likely keep it on the down low if you tried, as he seemed to treasure his reputation. He wouldn’t want to taint it by anyone finding out he had slept with you.

You stood outside of exit after you had finished your after school duties; tidying up the library and helping prep for a few classes. You knew Chan was done swim practice soon, as it ended at 4 PM every week day. You watched the doors to the gym open, and out walked Chan, his hair damp and curly from practicing in the water.

You swallowed hard and slowly approached him as he unlocked the door to his car, his eyes focused on the task.

“Chan?” You asked.

He lifted his head and turned towards you, a smirk stretching across his lips when he saw you.

“Y/N? This is quite the surprise.” He laughed, his dimple poking through as he looked at you.

“Yeah yeah, surprise.” You muttered.

“What’s up? What brings you to this side of campus?” He asked.

“I have a proposition for you.” You said, looking at him seriously.

“Oh?” He asked, leaning back against his car. “And what would that be?”

“I need you to help me with that little problem you pointed out.” You said lowly.

He arched a brow at you and tilted his head.

“What little problem?” He asked.

“Ya know... About me being a... um...” You trailed off, swallowing hard as you looked at him. “A virgin.”

His jaw dropped as he stared at you, shock in his eyes.

“Woah... Um... Wow...” He began scratching the back of his neck. “So you uh... Want me to be your first?”

You nodded, biting your lip anxiously.

“Y/N, I don’t know what kind of guy you take me for, but I don’t go around taking virginities...” He said, trailing off. “Why me anyways?”

“Because I want to lose it to someone I won’t get attached too.” You pointed out.

“Shouldn’t you want to get attached to your first time? I mean, be in love with that person?” He asked, shock still edging his voice.

“I’ve never been in love before.” You said.

He fell silent as he seemed to be thinking, taking his plump lower lip into his mouth.

“Please Chan? You and I don’t exactly like each other, and I’d rather not do it with someone I can get attached too. I’m in college and I’ve never had sex before...” You said, looking at him anxiously. “I mean if you don’t want too that’s okay, I can always find someone else.”

Chan looked at you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face for a sign of amusement, to see if it was a joke. His arms were crossed as he seemed to be thinking, before he stood up straight and looked down at you.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You looked him in the eyes and nodded confidently. He ran his fingers through his curly hair before taking a deep breath.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” He declared, looking at you. “But if you change your mind in any way I want you to back out.”

“I will.” You said with a smile.

“Good.” He said, leaning against his car and looking at you. “So where and when do you want to do this?”

“Is it possible to do it at your dorm? Maybe a day you don’t have practice so you’re not too tired.” You suggested.

He seemed to think for a moment, his eyes on the ground before he shrugged.

“My dorm works.” He said.

“Do you have a roommate?” You asked.

“Yeah, but he’s never home.” He informed you, his eyes still scanning your face to see if you were being serious.

“When are you free?” You pressed.

“I don’t have practice tomorrow.” He said, his eyes on yours. “Is that too soon for you?”

“Tomorrow works.” You accepted with a small smile. “What time works for you?”

“Come over after your finished with your after school stuff. Changbin should be gone until 9 or 10, so we’ll have plenty of time.” He said.

“Okay.” You said with a nod. “So 4:30 tomorrow?”

“That works.” He said, standing up straight, a small smirk on his lips. “We’re going to have some fun, babygirl.”

Your cheeks flared up and you glared at him, pushing past him.

“You’re such a weirdo!”

“Wait, so you ACTUALLY took my advice?” Minho asked, his eyes wide.

“I mean yeah, it’s my best bet.” You informed him, sipping on an almost completely dry box of Yoo-hoo.

“Okay Y/N, you sucked it bone dry.” Minho said with a sly smirk. “Like what you’ll do to Chan.”

You choked and coughed, shaking your head at him.

“You’re so gross Minho!” You rasped through your coughs.

“Gross or telling the truth?” He asked, a smile on his face.

“Yeah, whatever.” You mumbled.

“Speaking of the devil.” Minho pointed out, pointing with his chin.

You turned around and saw Chan walking into the cafeteria, surrounded by friends again. This time however, he had a disgustingly familiar female with him, Kim Yenna. She was disgustingly stuck up, with her dead over bleached hair, gross looking nails (who even gets them that color anymore anyways?) and over drawn on eyebrows, and her obnoxiously fake, overly high pitched voice. And if you couldn’t tell already, she was a total bitch.

She followed Chan around like a lost puppy, always gawking at him and hanging all over his shoulder. He seemed to either not mind or not notice, but with him you really couldn’t tell. She ran a little clique of his ‘fans’ who never stopped screeching during swim tournaments. I mean you had to admit, Chan looked killer in the swim shorts and tight swim shirt he wore, but it was nothing to rip your vocal cords up over.

“I wonder if Yenna has ever tried with Chan, she’s always stuck up his ass.” Minho pointed out, sticking a spoonful of pudding into his mouth.

“I dunno, maybe.” You said, taking a bite of his pudding.

“I don’t see how he can stand her, her voice itself makes me cringe.” Minho said, shuddering from just the thought of her screeching in his ear.

“Maybe he’s attracted to that type of girl.” You suggested, shrugging.

“Definitely not. I mean, he’s attracted to you, and you’re not like that.” Minho pointed out.

“Woah, Chan is NOT attracted to me.” You argued, looking at him.

“Oh yeah, he just agreed to take your virginity.” Minho said sarcastically, rolling his dark eyes.

“That’s different.” You tried.

“How? You have to have SOME type of attraction to someone to sleep with them.” He pointed out, arching a brow at you.

“Whatever.” You muttered.

You raised your eyes to where Chan was standing and made eye contact with Yenna, who gave you a bitchy smirk and clung to Chan again. Oh yeah, she was also a bitch to you. You didn’t know why, or how it happened, but she was.

“If I could get away with slapping a woman silly it’d be her.” Minho pointed out, looking at her. “Without hesitation, I’d knock that bitch out.”

“Minho!” You laughed.

“What?” He asked, laughing.

“That’s not nice.” You giggled.

“Yeah well, neither is she.” He mumbled. “Stuck up bitch.”

You bit your lip and withdrew your hand for a third time, pulling it back to your side and pacing again. You had been standing in front of Chan’s dorm for the past 5 minutes, debating whether or not to actually knock.

You didn’t have his number, so texting him was out of the question, and you were too nervous to knock. You sighed and threw your head in your hands, a groan leaving your lips.

Maybe I was too stupid for doing this.

Just as you were about to give up and walk away, Chan opened the door, giving you a shocked look.

“Oh, hey. How long have you been out here?” He asked.

“Er... Not long.” You lied.

“Well, come in.” He said, stepping aside and holding the door for you.

You slowly stepped into his dorm, the comforting smell of warm vanilla hitting your senses. You noticed a wax burner on the counter in the kitchen, a soft pink wax slowly melting inside of it.

“My rooms down this way.” Chan said, beckoning you to follow.

You followed him into the room the in the back, your eyes taking in everything in front of you.

First of all, you never realized how much black he wore until you saw all the shirts in his closet. They were all black, not a single other color in sight. Another thing you noticed is the California king bed in the center of the room, along with a computer and speakers. You knew Chan was a music production major, but his set up was incredible.

“Like it?” He asked.

You laughed and nodded, looking at his keyboard. He smiled at you and you shook your head, remembering who he was and why you were there. You sat on his bed, biting your lip as you thought of a way to start this. You’ve never done this before, and you never imagined doing it with a guy like Chan. Chan, the one you had a serious disliking for. Chan, the one who teased you all the time and would laugh at you when you got flustered. Chan, the one that-

Your thoughts were caught off as he slowly lifted your chin and pressed his plump lips to your own, making your body tense. He pulled away and looked at you, a questionable look in his eyes.

“Are you sure about this? You don’t seem comfortable.” He pointed out.

“Y-Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just nervous...” You pointed out awkwardly.

“It’s okay, just let me do the work, yeah? I’ll teach you.” He said softly.

You nodded as he leaned in again and pressed his pillowy lips back on to yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into his kiss, sparks erupting in your lower belly. Chan felt your body relax and decided to take it to the next step, swiping your bottom lip with his tongue to ask for entry.

You allowed him entry as his tongue began to poke at your own. Your hands grabbed at his shirt in shock at the feeling of your tongues intertwining with each other, his plump lips still soft against your own. You felt his chest push against yours until you fell back on his bed, your mouths still connected as he hovered over you. His tongue could’ve easily dominated yours, very easily. But he kept the kiss gentle, knowing not to scare you.

Your hands clutched his biceps, almost shocked at how muscular they felt. He pulled away from your lips, a short string of saliva still attaching the both of you. He kissed your lips again before slowly kissing lower, his lips peppering kisses along your neck and jaw. You let out a tiny moan when he kissed the junction between your neck and shoulder, a smirk stretching across his face.

“Hm? A weak spot?” He asked, lightly sucking on it.

“Ahh, Chan.” You moaned out very softly, your fingers clutching his shirt.

“Chris. Call me Chris.” He said, lifting himself up and smirking at you. “Or daddy.”

“Yeah, in your dreams.” You hissed at him.

His eyes narrowed as he pinned your arms to either side of you, leaning down and sucking on your weak spot again. You let out a tiny whimper and he chuckled, pulling away from your neck with a small pop.

“Oh, so that’s it, huh?” He asked, arching a brow. “You’re a brat?”

“W-What?” You asked, your cheeks turning red.

“That’s exactly it, Y/N. You act all hard and have a sharp tongue, but the moment I touch this sweet little spot,” He cooed, lightly licking the spot he had sucked on. “You’re like puty in my hands.”

You whined at his words, knowing it was true. You were, indeed, a brat. He smirked down at you as he kissed along your jaw again, before coming to the neck line of your shirt. He slowly raised himself up and lifted his shirt over his head, your eyes gawking at his body.

He was completely ripped, his toned and built body in full view, along with his well defined pecks. He smirked and arched a brow at you, letting out a small laugh through his nose.

“Like what you see babygirl?” He asked.

You blushed at his words and covered your face, making him chuckle. He gently moved your hands aside and grabbed the hem of your shirt, looking at you. You nodded as he lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes scanning your body. You blushed again and went to cover up, but his hands stopped your own.

“Don’t cover yourself up Y/N.” He said softly, leaning foreword and pressing a soft kiss on the top of your right boob.

You watched him slowly unhook your bra and pull it off, your nipples standing at attention. He pressed a soft kiss to your nipple, before slowly sucking it into his mouth. You let out a soft moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he lightly sucked on your soft mount. His hand massaged your other boob, his fingers gently tweaking your other nipple. Bliss filled your body, making a warm heat pool between your thighs. His thumb twirled your opposite nipple around, his mouth still latched to the other as you let out small whines. He finally pulled away with a small pop, his eyes shining as he saw you were already a mess.

“You’re so sensitive Y/N. It’s cute.” He purred.

Cute?

You didn’t have time to question it as he slowly slid your pants down your thighs, pulling them off of your legs. His eyes ate up the laced underwear you wore, a pretty shade of dark red with black topped lace.

“Those are beautiful.” He rasped, gently rubbing your thighs.

You blushed at his words, about to cover your face. You squealed as he wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled your heat close to him, dropping his face to level with it. He glanced at you again and you, again, gave him the go ahead. He smirked at you as he licked up your covered heat, making a whine leave your lips.

“That was a cute sound, Y/N.” He chuckled.

“Shut u-oh!” You went to tell him to shut up, but his mouth attaching to your covered clit cut you off as you let out a moan.

He licked up your covered slit again before pulling your panties off, his eyes gluing to your dripping heat. His eyes beamed as he knew he had done this to you, and he was the only one who has. He dipped his head down and blew on your dripping slit, making you hiss at the feeling. He smirked as he licked a bold strip up your soaked folds, making you whimper.

“I love how vocal you are.” He rasped as he attached his lips to your clit.

You closed your eyes in bliss as he sucked on your sensitive nub, your fingers grabbing at his soft locks. Soft slurping sounds filled the room along with your moans, his tongue working magic on you. You felt one of his fingers poking your entrance, his eyes meeting your again.

“I’m gonna put a finger in to get you prepped, okay?” He asked.

You nodded and bit your lip as he slipped a finger into your heat, making you whimper at the foreign feeling. He pumped it soft and slow, curling it just right. His lips reattached to your clit as he gently worked your begging hole, your pussy happily sucking in his finger. You let out a loud whine when he slipped a second in, making him pull away from your clit and press wet kisses to the insides of your thighs.

“I know babygirl, but you don’t want it to hurt.” He rasped softly.

His fingers pumped slowly into, curling just the right way as his tongue rolled your clit expertly, making you close your eyes tight as your legs began to shake, your thighs closing around his head.

“Ch-Chan, something’s happening.” You whimpered.

“You’re gonna orgasm babygirl, it’s okay. You can cum.” He purred, slurping on your clit.

You let out a high pitched whimper as you came on his fingers and tongue, a small chuckle coming from his lips as your thighs tightened around his head, your eyes shut tight. He helped you through your high, lightly pumping his fingers and detaching his lips from your clit, careful not to over work you yet. He pressed wet kisses from the top of your heat, up your stomach and chest, and finally to your lips. Your eyes fluttered open as he looked down at you, his eyes soft.

“You okay?” He asked, wiping his mouth.

“Y-Yeah... That felt amazing.” You panted.

“Good.... Do you want to continue?” He asked, tilting his head.

“I-If you’re okay with that.” You said shyly.

He smiled down at you and pressed a comforting peck to your lips, his hand rubbing your hip.

“Of course I’m okay with it, I just wanted to make sure you were.” He said gently.

He stood up and pulled his pants down, his hard length pressed painfully against his boxers. Your eyes popped out of your head when he pulled his boxers down, the sound of his very girthy length hitting his stomach filling the room. He giggled at your expression, his cheeks a soft shade of pink.

“W-Will that fit?” You asked.

“Yeah babygirl, don’t worry.” He said gently, hovering over you again. “I’ll go slow.”

You nodded and he leaned over and reached into his nightstand, cursing as he rummaged around.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I... Don’t have any condoms. Fuck, I’m sorry. I haven’t done this in awhile and I figured I had some.” He sighed.

“Wait you haven’t.. Done anything in awhile?” You asked.

“I told you before Y/N, I’m really not like that.” He said with a small smile.

You bit your lip for a moment and thought, your eyes meeting his.

“Is your pull out game strong?” You asked.

He nearly choked when you asked, an amused laugh leaving his mouth.

“Oh my god. Yes, it’s good, clearly. I don’t have kids.” He laughed.

“Yeah yeah, shut up. Just pull out.” You instructed.

“If that’s what you want.” He giggled.

He hovered over you again, using one of his hands to bring your own to his shoulders.

“Grip me if it hurts.” He said softly.

You nodded as you felt his tip poking your entrance. He looked down at you as he slowly slipped the tip in, his eyes searching your face. Your jaw fell slack as he pushed in a little more, a whimper leaving your lips as tears brimmed your eyes. He stopped his hips and pressed soft kisses to your jaw. He pulled away and rubbed your hair, his eyes soft.

“Are you okay? Can you take it?” He asked.

You nodded, your nails digging into his biceps. He kissed your lips as he pushed in some more, a choked whine leaving your lips as a tear slipped past your eye. He kissed it away and clutched you tightly, halting his hips again.

“You’re doing so well babygirl, I promise. The pain will go away soon.” He whispered gentle praises in your ear, making you relax as he slipped the final inch inside of you, his hips meeting yours.

He allowed you to stay like that, pressing soft kisses to your jaw as he waited for your signal to move. You whined and he gave you a soft smile as he slowly dragged himself from your aching walls, gently pushing back in.

“Fuck.” He rasped, his hips rolling deeply into yours. “You’re so tight.”

You whimpered at his words, tangling your fingers in his soft locks as he began to pick up the pace. He slipped his hand between the two of you, rubbing figure eights on your clit as his length slid in and out of your heat. You let out a high pitched whimper as he fluidly rolled his hips into yours, rubbing your gspot and circling your clit. You tugged at his locks as pleasure blinded you, your toes curling every time his length slid into your walls.

“I’m gonna cum again Chan.” You whimpered, fingers clutching his hair.

“It’s okay babygirl, cum for me.” He rasped, rolling his hips deeply into yours.

You came with a soft whimper of his name falling from your lips, your body trembling as he rode out your high before pulling out and cumming on your stomach with a deep groan. Hot spurts on your skin made you glance down, seeing the small mess on your belly, but the look on his face was well worth it. His eyes were closed, head thrown back, plump lips parted as he stroked his length, getting every last drop out. Your eyes wandered to his length, your eyes widening when you noticed blood on it. You looked down and noticed blood on the sheets as well, panic filling you.

“U-Um, Chan? Why is there blood?” You asked, panic lacing your tone.

Chan snapped out of his post sex trance and looked at you, then down to his bloody length, then to the sheets, then your bleeding entrance, before chuckling.

“It’s normal silly.” He giggled.

“I-It is?” You asked.

He nodded and got up, looking around for a towel.

“I should clean us up.” He said.

“I can just... Go.” You said awkwardly.

He turned to you and lifted a brow.

“Why?” He asked.

“I mean... Shouldn’t I?” You asked.

“Why would you think that? I told you before, I’m not that type of guy. And there’s no way I’m gonna kick you out right after I took your virginity, and you’re bleeding on top of it.” He pointed out.

“Sorry...” You apologized shyly.

He sighed and gave you a small smile before wetting a rag and wiping his length off. He slowly rested between your legs and wiped the blood off of your entrance and thighs, cleaning you up completely before plopping down next to you. You both stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. You turned your head to look at him, his eyes glued to the ceiling fan.

“What was your first time like?” You asked.

He looked at you in shock for a moment, his eyes meeting yours. He let out a small laugh and rubbed his forehead, his eyes closed.

“It was with my first girlfriend back when I was in high school.” He said.

“Oh... Was she a virgin too?” You asked.

“Yeah, she was.” He said, turning his head away. “God, I wish I could take it back.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, your eyes sad.

“She was the first girl I ever loved, and god did I love her so much. I tried to give her everything I could. I spoiled her, I gave her time, I gave her love, and she went ahead and cheated on me.” He said softly.

Your eyes softened at his words, your heart oddly hurting for him. His eyes looked so sad, so confused.

“It’s been years but I still don’t know why.” He said, looking at you. “I guess it was just me.”

“Chan, it definitely wasn’t you. If you did all that for her, then it was her.” You pointed out.

He shrugged and stared off into space, his eyes wandering around.

“I’m serious Chan, you didn’t deserve that.” You said.

He gave a small laugh and looked at you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Don’t you hate me? Aren’t you supposed to say I deserve it? Don’t you think I’m a shitty person?” He asked.

“I think you’re annoying, not a shitty person.” You pointed out.

Chan laughed and rolled his eyes, turning towards you.

“I’ll take that over being shitty.” He laughed. “But thanks, you’re too sweet.”

You rolled your eyes and turned the opposite way as him, facing the wall. Your eyes felt heavy as they began to close, and you fell asleep to the sound of Chan snoring softly beside you.

Your eyes fluttered open as light poured into the room. You opened your eyes and turned over, shock and horror filling you as you realized you were laying directly next to Chan. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted as he slept. You went to move away, accidentally bumping him. His brows furrowed and he slowly opened his eyes, a small smirk stretching across his face.

“Staring at me while I sleep now babygirl?” He asked.

“I wasn’t!” You gasped, turning away.

He chuckled and moved closer, making goosebumps form on your skin as he leaned close, whispering against the skin on your shoulder.

“You can stare at me as much as you like babygirl. I know you like what you see.” 

You squealed and went to push him away, making him laugh as he grabbed your arms, his face just a mere inch from yours.

“You get so flustered so easily.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, whatever.” You mumbled.

He chuckled and held your arms, a smirk on his face.

“So? Do you want this to be a thing? Like a friends with benefits type of thing?” He asked.

“We aren’t friends.” You pointed out.

“Yeah yeah, ‘enemies’ with benefits or whatever.” He said, his eyes on yours.

“Should we?” You asked, wanting his confirmation before saying yes.

“I mean, I don’t see why not. You’re not hooking up or with anyone, clearly.” He pointed out. “And neither am I. It’ll benefit us both.” 

You thought about it for a moment, biting your lip before nodding.

“Cool.” He said with a smile. “Should I get condoms? Or are you comfortable starting birth control?”

“I can start birth control, I don’t see a problem with it.” You said with a nod.

“Cool.” He said, getting up. “We should probably keep this on the down low, yeah?”

You nodded as you watched him get up and throw a pair of his black boxers on. You weren’t surprised to say the least, already knowing he would’ve asked you to do so to protect his image. You sat up and covered yourself with the blanket as you looked around for your clothes, which were conveniently scattered across the room. You cursed as you looked around for you thongs, when you heard him clear his throat. You lifted your head and saw the laced topped underwear dangling from his pointer finger, a smirk on his face.

“Give them to me.” You demanded, storming over to him with the blanket wrapped around you.

“Hmmm... Maybe if you give me a kiss.” He said with a smirk, dropping his face down to your level.

“In your dreams, morning breath.” You growled, reaching for your panties.

He smirked and lifted them higher, his dimple poking through his cheek. You glared at him and went to snatch them again, when he pecked your lips and then ran out of the room with them, making your face turn red from being flustered, and from anger.

“Bang Chan you are so annoying!”

You sat with Minho after school in the indoor swimming pool area, watching the swim team. You were always helping after school, and that included sport activities. You had help set up the gym for the tournament, and now it was full of people from both teams, and their classmates. Your eyes wandered to Chan, who was clad in black swim shorts and a tight black swim shirt, a bright blue streak running along the sides of both the shirt and shorts. He looked absolutely ethereal like that, his hair soaked and curled, his swim shirt glued to his chest from the water.

His eyes were on Hyunjin as he came up, just coming before the boy from the other team did. Chan smiled at Hyunjin and helped him out of the water, patting his back and praising him. You watched the two of them, when you felt a pair of eyes on you. You turned your head and made eye contact with Yenna, who was giving you a dirty look.

“Do you always have to eye rape him?” Yenna asked, folding her arms and pursing her lips. “It’s pathetic.”

You were just about to say a snarky remark when Minho whipped his head around and looked at her, his eyes narrowed. You had to admit, when Minho was pissed, he was VERY intimidating.

“So if watching the swim captain when we’re at a, I don’t know, swim tournament is eye rape, then what do you call all of the annoying clinging and hanging all of him when he clearly isn’t interested? Molestation? Because you sure as fuck do that a lot.” Minho pointed out, eyes narrowed.

The girls in Yenna’s “clique” gasped at his words, making Yenna’s face and ears turn bright red. She grit her teeth and walked off the bleachers, irritation in her eyes. You smiled at Minho who bumped you with his shoulder, a smile on his face.

“Don’t look now, but hot swim captain is definitely looking at you.” Minho said lowly.

You slowly turned your head and made eye contact with Chan, who gave you a side smile before turning back to the water. Your cheeks turned red and Minho giggled, shaking his head.

“You let him take your virginity, now you’re shy when he looks at you?” He asked, chuckling.

“Shhh!” You hushed him, looking around.

“What? I didn’t say it loud.” Minho giggled.

“You said it loud enough!” You whisper yelled.

He chuckled and shook his head, looking at you.

“Did you get on birth control yet?” He asked.

“I go to pick up my prescription today.” You informed him.

“Good, you don’t need no Channie babies running around.” He giggled.

You smack his arm and he let out a yelp, rubbing the spot you hit.

“Ow!” He groaned. “You’re real spicy again. How long has it been since you last hooked up? You definitely need some dick.”

“We only hooked up that one time so far.” You admitted with a blush.

“Wait, it’s been a week and you guys haven’t done anything again?” He asked, arching a brow.

“Minho he’s the captain of the swim team, he doesn’t have all of the time in the world. Besides, he isn’t obligated to give me time. We’re only screwing around.” You pointed out. 

“Whatever.” Minho grumbled, still rubbing his arm.

After the tournament, you got up and walked down the bleachers, stepping into the walk way. You felt someone slightly bump you, and you turned to see an attractive boy from the other swim team. He gave you a kind smile and gave you a small bow.

“Sorry, I don’t pay attention.” He said with a sweet smile.

“It’s okay, no worries.” You said, bowing back politely.

“I’m surprised your so friendly, since I’m from the rival school and all.” He laughed.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I’m just here because I set up.” You giggled.

“Really? It looks great. Maybe you should get in the water some time.” He said with a huge smile.

“I can’t swim, but thank you.” You thanked him as you headed out, catching up with Minho.

But not before you caught Chan’s eye. He was looking at you, almost watching you.

Weirdo.

You thanked the woman at the pharmacy as you picked up your birth control prescription, slipping it into your bag as you walked out. As you were walking out, you bumped in to someone else.

“Sorry Mister.” You apologized, before realizing who it was.

Chan was looking down at you, a smile on his face.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I was um... Grabbing the birth control.” You said lowly and awkwardly.

He smiled at you and nodded, beckoning for you to follow him back in.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“I get my protein powder here. It’s the only place that sells the brand I like.” He informed you, grabbing a thing of it and paying. “Wanna go get some coffee?” “Why?” You asked, tilting your head.

“I mean, every time I talk to you isn’t going to be to get my dick wet babygirl.” He said with a smirk as he led you out of the pharmacy and to the cafe.

“Ya know, for someone who wants to keep what we’re doing on the down low, you call me that quite a lot.” You pointed out.

He chuckled and ordered your drinks, paying for yours. You looked at him and frowned, making him laugh.

“I mean, you just had to pay for birth control. I’m pretty sure I can at least grab you a coffee.” He said.

You shrugged and sipped your drink, following him as he walked out of the cafe. He led you to his car and beckoned for you to get in, and you followed him in. You opened the birth control and checked the time, wanting to take it at the same time every day (You’re supposed too). Chan watched you pop it down your throat, making him swallow hard.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He said, starting his car and driving off.

“No Chan really, what is it? It looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.” You said.

“You really aren’t helping my case.” He said lowly.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“You just... Took the birth control that you got specifically because of me right in front of my face after I told you I’m not always trying to get my dick wet.” He grumbled, eyes focusing on the road.

A good and bad idea popped into your head. Minho always talked about rough sex, saying the women he’s messed around with purposely would get him worked up/pissed off just for him to ruin them and honestly, you were curious about it. Yeah it would only be your second time, but you were curious if Chan would get so worked up and ruin you. You gave him a sweet smile then rested your hand on his thigh, softly rubbing it.

“It’s okay Channie.” You said with a smile.

His breath hitched and his hand grabbed yours and squeezed, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game babygirl.” He growled.

“Am I, Channie?” You asked. “How dangerous?”

As soon as you were in Chan’s dorm, his lips were all over yours. His hands were on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he backed you into his room. His lips were hungry against yours as he pushed you on the bed, detaching his lips from yours, a string of saliva still connecting your lips. He rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip, spreading the saliva on it. You closed your mouth on the tip of his thumb and he smirked at you, lifting his shirt over his head.

“On your hands and knees babygirl.” He commanded.

You flipped yourself onto your hands and knees, making him chuckle.

“What?” You asked, looking back at him.

“I’m going to teach you how to arch, alright?” He asked.

You nodded as you felt his right hand rub your right asscheek, gently massaging it. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands roaming your ass. You felt his hand slide up your back, as he began to put pressure in the middle.

“Lower your front upper half.” He instructed.

You did as he told you, pressing your chest flat against the bed, your cheek against the mattress as the only thing up in the air was your ass. 

“Perfect.” He purred, gripping your asscheek and rubbing it.

You felt his hands move your shirt up, unclasping your bra as he slid your shirt and bra off, lifting you just enough to get them off of you. He pressed soft kisses to your bare shoulder and back as he began to kiss his way down your body, until he got to the waist band of your pants. He slid your pants down and off your legs, his eyes staring at your ass and covered core. He placed both hands on both of your asscheeks, rubbing them in firm motions.

“Your ass is so perfect.” He rasped.

You blushed at his praise, then inhaled sharply as he moved your panties to the side, the cool air hitting your dripping heat. He chuckled as he ran a finger on your slit, spreading your arousal.

“You get so wet babygirl, I love it.” He groaned. 

You felt a finger slip into your entrance, making you moan softly as he began to pump it in and out of you. His eyes watched the way your pussy swallowed around his finger, hugging it tightly. He smirked as you let out tiny moans, slightly pushing your hips back against his finger for more friction.

“What’s wrong babygirl?” He asked with his smirk still plastered across his face. “What do you want?”

You whimpered at his words, knowing he knew damn well what you wanted. You wiggled your ass a bit and he chuckled, pulling his fingers from your soaked heat. You let out a loud whine and he smirked down at you.

“You have to use your words babygirl.” He purred.

“I-I want you to fuck me, Chris.” You whined, using his birth name to finally get what you want.

His eyes darkened as you finally heard the sound of his belt hitting the floor, feeling the blunt, thick head of his length against your entrance. You felt him gently slide it on your folds, slicking it up. You whimpered in annoyance, earning a chuckle from him.

“What’s wrong babygirl?” He asked with a small chuckle.

“Please, please stop teasing me Chris.” You whimpered.

He leaned foreword and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your shoulder, a soft smile on his face as he slowly began to slip into you. You grit your teeth as his length once again stretched your heat. It wasn’t as painful as the first time, but it still hurt pretty bad. When he was up to the hilt inside of you, he kissed up your bare back, rubbing your hips soothingly.

“You okay?” He asked.

You nodded and pressed your cheek into the bedding, looking back at him.

“I’m okay, you can move. Please, move.” You whimpered.

He slowly drew his hips back, then pushed them foreword slowly until his hips met the flesh of your ass. You keened as his length pushed deep into you, making you let out a choked moan. His thrusts were shallow and slow, making you whine out.

“I can take more Chris, you don’t have to be so gentle.” You rasped.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes, please Chris. I need more.” You whimpered.

With that, his pace began to pick up. His grip on your hips tightened as he began to thrust fluidly into your dripping heat, making you see stars as he began to rub your Gspot. Your hands clutched the blankets on his bed, loud moans and whimpers leaving your lips as he snapped his hips into yours. Your toes curled and you buried your face into his bedding as the pleasure began to blind you. 

“Who was that guy you were talking too?” He asked with a deep roll of his hips.

“Fuck- what guy?” You asked, trying to cling to the last bit of sanity you had.

“The one that was in the swimming tournament.” He growled, snapping his hips roughly into yours, slapping sounds filling the room every time his hips met the flesh of your ass.

“I-I don’t know him. He just- oh, God... He just bumped into me.” You rasped, clinging harshly to the blankets as your whines and moans became more high pitched and desperate.

You came hard with his name rolling off of your tongue, like it was your favorite verse of a song. His hips stuttered as he fought to contain himself long enough to ride out your high before pulling out and cumming on your back and ass with a deep groan. You both panted as you allowed your lower half to fall flat along with the upper half of your body, when you felt him plop on top of you, being careful not to crush you. You turned your head as it rested on the bed as you looked at him. His wavy hair was damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead, his eyes were closed, his plump lips parted as he panted, and his chest and shoulders glistened with sweat.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, panting as he slowly peeled himself back off of you before placing a kiss on your shoulder and grabbing a towel. He made his way back over to you and wiped you up, his eyes going to yours.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice soft. “You bled again.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just need a minute to breathe.” You rasped.

He nodded and plopped down beside you on his back, his breathing still ragged.

“This is your fault you know, I didn’t even plan for us to do this today.” Chan said, looking at you.

“Mhmm, sure.” You muttered.

“Maybe I corrupted you.” He giggled.

You smacked his chest and he yelped, glaring at you as you glared at him.

“Perv.” You muttered.

“You’re the pervert. You’re the one who seduced me when I was just minding my own business. I really have corrupted you already.” 

SMACK.

“OW!”

You finished setting up the banner to the pool room, pridefully looking at it. You had hand made it and spent hours on it, excited to finally hang it up. Chan had also helped with it, staying after his swim meets and practices to help you. You both had been spending more time together recently, more time than you even noticed. He was just always there, even though he annoyed the hell out of you.

“Y/N!” You heard one of the swimmers, Hyunjin, call, beckoning you over to the pool.

You, being curious, decided to go see what was up. You walked over and he pointed to the water.

“Can you check that thermostat real quick?” He asked.

You being slightly naive didn’t think that hey, he was a swimmer, he could just get right up in there and check it. Instead, you leaned foreword and looked down, squinting your eyes at it. You were about to read it when two arms grabbed you and dragged you into the water, making you yelp. Your body went under and you desperately searched for the floor, anxiety making your breath knocked out of you as you tried to break to the surface.

You couldn’t swim, and you had almost drowned at one point, making water one of your biggest fears. And now you were stuck in that position again, your lungs screaming for air as you tried to kick your legs. You felt strong arms grab you and lift you out of the water. You coughed and sputtered water as Chan lifted you out of the pool, shock and worry on his face.

“Can you not swim?” He asked in disbelief.

“No.” You choked, coughing out water as tears streamed down your cheeks. 

You shoved him away from you, anger and fear searing through you, as he had been the one that dragged you under.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He said, his eyes still wide.

You pushed past him and grabbed your stuff, hurrying out and rushing back to your dorms. You locked yourself in your dorm, sobs shaking your body as you were still fighting off the anxiety and embarrassment. You curled into yourself, still soaked, as your phone rang, and you saw Chan’s caller ID. But you didn’t pick up, you didn’t answer his text. You just cried by yourself, wishing you could just disappear.

You didn’t like parties. scratch that, you hated them. They were always over crowded, smelled like alcohol, cigarettes, and teen pregnancies, and no one ever had a good intention there. You haven’t been to many college parties, always straying away from them.

But tonight was different, to say the least. Minho had dragged you to a frat party, since he was friends with the host, who turned out to be Hyunjin. You were standing with Minho, a solo cup in your hand as you had decided to drink for once. You sipped on your drink as Minho talked to the other guys, just zoning in and out of the conversation. You were also distracted, as Chan was there, Yenna clinging to his arm as usual. He was talking with his roommate, Changbin, not paying her any attention. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking, but seeing her all over him kind of pissed you off.

You and Chan have hooked up a total of 13 times in the past month and a half, but ever since the incident, neither of you have spoken. He never talks about Yenna, but with the way he lets her cling to him has you questioning if he’s sleeping with her too. But why should you care? It’s not like you two were dating, and you hated him. At least, you were supposed too. You kept your eyes on Minho for the most part, but they also tended to wander to Chan. He never once glanced at you, that you’ve noticed. 

Yenna leaned a little too close to his face and you finally decided to distract yourself. You put your cup down and excused yourself to the bathroom, slowly making your way through the crowd of people who were either dry humping each other or making out. You half stumbled through them to make it to the bathroom, about to reach for the knob when the door opened. Your eyes widened when you recognized the guy you had almost bumped into while leaving the swim tournament. He gave you a friendly smile, and you looked at him in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“We love us some parties, and we got invited. We don’t like to pass up generous offers.” He said with a smile.

“Ah, I see.” You said awkwardly.

“Do you wanna drink a bit? You’re like, the only nice one here.” He pouted.

“Sure.” You said with a shrug

.He led you to the kitchen, the both of you taking jello shots and talking. He kept pushing drinks on you, making you very drunk. You never get like this, so the feeling is new as you’re nearly wasted. He keeps trying to hand you even more drinks, but you start declining them. You knew you fucked up after the last shot, and now you felt sick. You went to excuse yourself, when he grabbed your arm.

“Too drunk?” He asked.

You nodded and he led you outside into the cool night air, and you felt grateful for him doing so. That is, until you realized his intentions. He slammed his lips into yours, and you quickly pushed him away, backing away from him. That kiss was nothing like Chan’s, not one bit. Chan’s was always full of passion, while this guys was full of pure lust and hunger. You backed away from him and his expression became angry.

“You led me on.” He snarled angrily, stepping up to you. 

You backed into the wall, tears filling your eyes as you began to cower away from him. You didn’t understand what he was talking about, you had only been nice.

“You’re just a whore, aren’t you? You must sleep around with a bunch of guys, since you seem to flirt with every guy in sight.” He spit at you, making your stomach churn.

He smirked as he realized you were trapped between the outside of the house and him, his eyes dangerous.

“I’ll treat you like a whore then.” He snarled, his lips almost crashing against yours again.

You closed your eyes and tried to push him away, when suddenly he grunted and staggered back, clutching his jaw. You looked up and saw Chan standing in front of you, his eyes dark as his jaw was clenched and tight. The kid stepped up to Chan and Chan swung again, catching his face and tossing him on the ground. 

You trembled as you felt someone grab you and pull you away, and you recognized Changbin. Minho instantly came out of the house, checking you over and sighing with relief. 

“Hyunjin distracted everyone else.” He informed Changbin.

“Good. This kid needs to get his ass out of here, him and his goon friends.” Changbin said.

“Y/N?”

You lifted your head and saw Chan approaching you quickly, grabbing your face and looking you over.

“Are you okay, are you hurt?” He asked, his voice shaking with anger.

“I-I’m okay.” You stuttered out.

He sighed in relief and pulled you into his chest, his arms around you tight. You leaned into him, half for comfort, half because you were so trashed you couldn’t hold yourself up. His hand stroked your hair as he rested his cheek on your head before looking at Minho.

“I’m gonna take her back to my dorm.” He informed him.

Minho nodded and looked back at the kids friends who were looking for him.

“Go, we’ll take care of this.” Minho said as Changbin smiled at him.

Chan lifted you into his arms and brought you to his car, buckling you in before heading back to his dorms. You kept dozing off, your head feeling heavy as you leaned it against the window. Chan didn’t say a single word until you got back to his dorm. You immediately headed for the toilet, throwing up your stomach content. You felt his hands gently pull your hair back into a make shift pony tail, holding your hair out of your face. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you finished, sitting down on the floor.

“Do you ever drink this much?” He asked.

You shook your head and he sighed, going to his dresser and bringing an over sized T-shirt. You went to move but almost fell over, so he helped you rid of all of your clothes besides your panties. He slipped the T-shirt over your head and handed you his bottle of mouth wash. You rinsed your mouth as he went to get the bed set up. When he came back, you were leaning against the door frame, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Do you feel sick again?” He asked, walking over and grabbing you by your elbows.

You shook your head and stepped into his arms, burying your face into his chest. You felt his one hand stroke your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist as he held you tightly.

“I was so scared.” You whimpered into his strong chest. “I didn’t think you were going to come for me. I didn’t think anyone was.”

His arm tightened around you, his hand cradling your head into him. His breathing was ragged as he got mad again, his cheek resting on your head.

“His kisses, th-they weren’t like yours. They were gross and made me feel gross.” You said with a small sob.

“I know baby, I know. It’s all okay now, he can’t touch you. I’m here, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He said softly.

He brought you to his bed, sliding in with you and pulling you into his arms. His one arm was tucked under your head, the other pushing your hair out of your face. Your hand found his as you looked at the open wounds on his knuckle, your eyes lifting to his.

“It’s okay.” He said softly as he wiped a tear that slipped out of your one eye.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, that was his fault.” Chan said, trying to soothe you.

“Not just that, but for being so mean to you after you didn’t know I couldn’t swim. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that.” You sobbed.

“Shhh, it’s okay babygirl. Let’s get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.” He said softly.

You nodded and slid closer into his arms, burying your face into his chest. You fell asleep to him stroking your hair, and to his steady heartbeat.

You winced as you held your pounding head, groaning. Chan looked over at you, his back against the pillows as he had been up for a bit. He reached across his table and handed you two painkillers and a bottle of water.

“Take these.” He said.

You took the medication and laid back down, your eyes on his busted knuckle. He noticed you looking at it and slid down to your level, turning on his side to look at you. You looked back at him as he stretched his hand out, pushing your hair out of your face. You moved closer into his touch, and he instinctively did too. Your lips met in a soft kiss, his hand on your jaw softly. When you pulled away you both looked at each other, your eyes scanning each others.

“His kisses really weren’t like yours.” You whispered.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of kissed you after that happened.” He sighed, about to get up.

You slipped your hand on his cheek, shaking your head.

“I like your kisses, Chan.” You admitted with a blush.

He smiled at you and leaned in, his lips meeting yours sweetly. You closed your eyes and melted into his kiss, the kisses you liked. Your fingers slid over his cheek, his hand on your waist a he brought you close to him. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, and you gave him the entry he was craving for. You tangled your fingers in his wavy locks as your tongues danced, his quickly putting yours back in it’s place. He pulled away and started to kiss your jaw, when you stopped him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, worry in his tone.

“You always please me, I think it’s time for me to learn to please you.” You said.

“You don’t have too, Y/N.” He said with a small blush.

“I want too, I want to learn.” You pressed, your innocent eyes determined.

“Fine.” He agreed, sitting up.

You got between his legs and rubbed his hardening legnth through his boxers, making him hiss.

“Don’t even try to tease babygirl, I’ll put you right back in your place.” He informed you with a smirk.

You pouted but obeyed, slipping his thick length from his boxers. You gave him a questionable look and he chuckled.

“Start with the head, you can even just spit on your hand to slick it up so you can rub it a bit.” He said.

You nodded and spit on your hand before rubbing it up and down his length, making him bite his lip. You pumped his length, rubbing the slit with your thumb.

“Okay, now start with the head, use your tongue first.” He instructed.

You nodded and gave his tip a light kiss before swirling your tongue around the head, making him inhale sharply. You licked up the side of his shaft, making him close his eyes in bliss. You slowly sucked his tip into your mouth, making him let out a small moan.

“You’re doing good babygirl, now take some of me down your throat.” He ordered.

You looked at him as you slid his length down your throat, his girth making your jaw tense. You pushed the thought to the back of your head as you began to slowly bob your head up and down. Chan let out a hiss and grabbed your hair, pulling your head up.

“A little less teeth, hollow out your cheeks like this.” He instructed, showing you how to hollow them out.

You went back down on him and did what he said, hollowing out your cheeks as you took him down your throat. His head rolled back and leaned on the wall, a soft groan leaving his lips as his tip began to hit the back of your throat. His fingers dug into your hair, holding it out of your face as you swirled your tongue every time you came to the tip. He let out a small grunt and pulled you away from his length, his eyes hooded as he pushed you onto your back.

“Was it bad?” You asked, worried that’s why he pulled you away.

“It was perfect, but I think you deserve a reward for doing so well.” He purred.

He slipped between your legs and pressed his tip to your entrance before slowly slipping inside of you with little resistance. You both let out sighs of relief as he slipped up to the hilt inside of you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips as he rolled his hips into yours lazily.

“You’re so soaked babygirl, did making me feel good turn you on that much?” He asked with a groan.

“I love making you feel good Chris.” You moaned as his hips rolled deeply into yours, making your toes curl every time he entered you.

The early morning sun casted a beautiful glow on his honey skin as he thrusted into you slow, but deep. He pressed soft kisses on your jaw line as hips snapped into yours, your fingers digging into his back. His hips slightly picked up the pace as he panted.

“I’m not gonna last long babygirl.” He rasped.

“Me either C-Chris, I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered.

All it took was his fingers to rub lazy figure eights onto your clit for you to see stars, a soft moan of his name leaving your lips. He rode out your high before pulling out and cumming on your stomach, the hot spurts shooting up to your boobs.

“Shit, sorry.” He rasped.

“Its okay.” You said tiredly, the both of you looking at each other with blissed out faces.

He grabbed his shirt and wiped you clean before wrapping an arm around your waist, his head on your chest as he yawned. 

“I could use a nap.” He murmured.

You smiled as you played with his hair until his breathing became softer, indicating he was asleep. You closed your eyes and drifted off, a smile on your face.

You took down the banner as the tournaments were over for the next few months. You felt relieved though, now Chan could finally rest and stop over working himself. As you took down the tournament posters and other things, you thought about everything with Chan. You had hated him, everything about him, and now? You didn’t know what it was, but you knew you it wasn’t hate. Was it love? 

But how could it be? You promised yourself and made the deal with Chan to not fall in love. Had you broken your most sacred rule to yourself?

The sound of the heavy doors opening and shutting made you jump, ripping you from your thoughts. You turned to see Yenna and her two friends approaching you. When they got in front of you, Yenna folded her arms and looked you up and down.

“Can I help you?” You asked.

“Actually you can, by staying away from Chan.” She said bitterly.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked, slightly amused.

“You heard me. Stay away from Chan. He could never like a bitch like you anyways.” 

“Then what are you so worried for?” You asked, arching a brow.

“Oh trust me, I’m not worried. It’s just annoying and pathetic when the ugly duckling tries to get in the way.”

“Well, this ugly duckling is just minding her damn business, and so should you.” You said firmly.

“What was that?” She asked, irritation in her voice.

“You heard me, mind your damn business. It’s none of your business who I’m with, or who Chan’s with.” You said.

She stared at you for a moment before scoffing, a smirk on her face.

“I hate to do this to you, but it’s a shame I know your little secret.” She said.

“What?” You asked.

Your eyes widened when you felt her push you, your body plummeting into the deepest end of the pool. You instantly began to thrash around, your lungs screaming as you sunk straight to the bottom. You tried to move your arms, but your body was frozen with fear and anxiety.

I’m sorry Chris.

You closed your eyes and decided it was best to let fate take you, when you felt a pair of familiar strong arms grab you and lift you from the water. You felt yourself being laid on the cold floor as you coughed and gagged, whimpers leaving your lips as you fought for air. You felt hands on your cheeks and saw Chan’s face, his voice ringing in and out of your ears.

‘Y/N? Are you okay?” He asked.

You blinked at him and nodded, earning a sigh of relief from him as he pulled you into his arms. You noticed he was soaked and realized he had jumped in to save you. You buried your face into his shoulder, tears streaking down your face as you still fought to breathe. Chan lifted you into his arms and began to walk out of the pool room when Yenna stepped in front of him.

“Chan we were just-”

He whipped his head around to face her, his eyes holding daggers in them. He looked as if he wanted to kill the bitch on the spot.

“If you ever come near us again I’ll break your fucking arms you fucking psycho bitch.” He growled.

Yenna backed away and Chan carried you out the doors and to his car, flying to his dorm.

When you got back, he quickly put you in his large shirt that just came out of the dryer before pulling you in between his legs and into his arms.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” He whispered.

“It’s okay Chris.” You said, stroking his cheek. “It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. She must’ve seen us together at some point. I’m so sorry, I should’ve done a better job at keeping it on the down low.” He said, his voice shaking.

“Wait, that’s why you wanted to keep it a secret?” You asked.

“Yeah, why else would I want too?” He asked.

“I-I thought it was so I wouldn’t ruin your reputation. I thought if someone found out you’d be embarrassed for sleeping with someone like me.” You said.

‘Someone like you? Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with you.” He said firmly.

You blushed and looked at him as he rubbed his face, his eyes bloodshot and glassy.

“Chris-”

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” He said, tears beginning to form at the corner of his eyes.

Tears filled your own eyes as you rubbed his cheek, looking at his lost expression.

“If it’s your fault it’s mine too.” You said softly.

“How?” He asked.

“I broke the number one rule Chris. I fell in love with you like an idiot. I fell in love knowing we can’t, but I did.” You said, tears streaming down your eyes. 

He looked at you in shock as you cried, wiping your tears with your arms. 

“I’m sorry Chris.” You sobbed softly, trying to hide your face.

You felt his hands grab your face as he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss, making your heart hammer against your chest.

“Idiot... I love you too.” He whispered against your lips.

“You do?” You asked, looking at him in shock.

“I do, Y/N. So, so much.” He whispered. “And I always have, even before we started hooking up. I loved the way you acted like you hated me. I loved how you could reject and stand up to me. I loved you from the start.”

You both smiled at each other as your lips melted together in a passionate kiss. You tangled your fingers in his damp hair as he lifted you up and pushed you onto his bed, a soft look in his eye.

“I’ll show you how much I love you.” He rasped as he kissed all along your neck.

You purred as he rubbed your clit through your panties, his other hand lifting his over sized shirt. He lifted it over your head and kissed every piece of exposed skin he could find. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered between kisses.

You threaded your fingers through his hair as he left love bites and kisses all over your skin. He looked at you with so much passion, so much love. He kissed your lips as he worked his pants down his legs, pulling his length out. He rubbed it on your slit before looking into your eyes as he sunk into you, your pussy hugging his dick like a vice. He pressed his forehead against your own as he began to rock his hips into yours, his pace starting off fast.

“I love you.” You whimpered against his lips as you kissed him again.

“I love you too babygirl.”  He rasped, his lips melting into yours.

Loud slapping sounds filled your ears as he pounded you into the bed, soft grunts and your moans making into the most beautiful song. He lifted your legs over his shoulders and pounded into you, making you cry out at the deep angle.

“Y-You’re so fucking deep Chris.” You whimpered, your hands squeezing the pillows behind your head for dear life.

“Does it feel good baby?” He asked in between pants as his hips slapped off of yours.

“So, so good Chris.” You moaned, eyes rolling back as your back arched. “So fucking thick.”

“You’re so- fuck- tight.” He groaned.

“Ch-Chris, cum inside me, please.” You whimpered as his length fucked you dumb.

“You want to be my little- shit - cum slut before my girlfriend huh?” He teased.

“Please Chris, I want it.” You whimpered shamelessly.

His eyes darkened as he lifted you both up, sitting on his knees as he bounced you up and down his thick length as he pounded into you. Your cries and moans filled the room, the sound of skin slapping accompanying it with his grunts and groans. He buried his face into your chest as you began to clench around him.

“I’m gonna cum Chris, fuck I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered.

“Cum babygirl, cum for me.” He rasped.

You came with a scream of his name, your body tensing and your back arching. Your nails dug into his back, blood dripping down the little crescent shapes you made. You felt his body shudder and warmth splash against your walls as he came with a groan, his arms tightening around you.

You both panted as he slowly laid you both down on your sides, his dick still buried deep inside of you. He rubbed your hip and kissed your forehead as you came down from your high. When you calmed down, he caught your lips in a kiss, a smile on his face.

“Will you officially be mine Y/N?” He asked.

You stroked his cheek and nodded, burying your face into his chest. He hummed as he stroked your hair, content now.

“I’m happy I asked you when I did, I’m so happy it was you. I’m so happy it is you.” You confessed.

He smiled down at you and kissed your head, stroking your cheek.

“I’m happy too. I love you, so much.”

“I love you too Chris. So, so much.” You whispered, nuzzling into his chest.

That night, you fell asleep in Chan’s arms, as close as you two could get. You were finally with your first, and hopefully your last, love.

[votederpycausemufins]

So, happy eggs benedict day to those who watch dsmp. I’m sure you’ll have fun today! I know I will when you all read this chapter and freak out at the end! also gonna apologize for the formatting. I wasn’t sure how to replicate what I did while writing it, so I’m doing that instead.

@petrichormeraki​

“Hey Tommy?” Phil took the teen over to the side, wanting to speak with him. “Since Grian is still talking with his admin-”

“He’s my admin too. You saw that the other me was in their world.”

“Right, fine. While he’s talking to your admin, I’ve got a question.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“When you were talking with that other you… D-Did Kristen show up?”

“Mumza? Uh, no. Why d’ya ask?”

“Well, I guess you wouldn’t know. She wasn’t really around when you were growing up. But she’s sort of… a goddess of death.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “She’s what?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, no. Mumza didn’t show up. You did. Or the other version of you. I guess you’re the death god there instead of her.”

“Right. Well, anything else happen, mate?”

“After the other you showed up, the other me got taken away by him and told me the thing to say to Xannes.”

“Alright. Thanks for telling me Tommy.”

“Theseus. Theeeeeeeseus. Theseus! Wake up!”

“Ugh… where am I?”

“Prison. Specifically Base Iridium.”

Theseus shook his head to wake himself up more. “Wait where the fuck am I?!”

“I just said you’re-”

“No what the fuck is this?!” Theseus shouted and tried moving around, only making the sound of chains jingling.

“Ohhhh, enchanted bedrock casket to make sure you can’t move. But hey, At least we get face holes. Aaaand you’re hyperventilating.”

“How do I get out?! Let me out!”

“If I knew how to get out, I would have aaaaaages ago and gone to see Sense!”

“W-Wait, S-Sense like the e-evil r-redstone guy?”

“Yes! With a wonderful mustache and sexy suit of his~”

“Oh eww gross. You’re just as bad as him.” Theseus cringed.

“How’s he doing?”

“Half starved to death and had his vocal cords ripped out.”

“He. What.”

“The new emperor of Helscraft or whatever did it. Kicked him off the throne and trapped him in whatever was there instead of the nether.”

“No! Now I need to get out!” Chain rattling filled the air.

“Uh hey, what’s your name by the way?”

There was a pause from the rattling. “Oh you heard I changed it? It’s Grifter now.”

“Uh, didn’t know you started with anything else.”

“Hiii Puffy! I’m baaack! Did you an’ Grum talk about stuff?” Jrum walked into Puffy’s home holding a lot of quartz in his arms. He knew he could just put it in his inventory, but this was more fun.

“Yes we did, though… well it was a little rough for him, so he’s... out building a place for you to stay near your charger until you can get home, alright?”

Jrum nodded, accepting the answer without question before setting his haul down on a table and picking up a piece quartz to chew on. “I made a new friend! His name is Michael!”

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

“Yeah! And then I went exploring and I found a big cave!”

“In the nether?” Puffy asked, only half paying attention right now while hoping Jrum would get distracted talking. She knew the bot’s brother wasn’t really out building after his panic attack, but duckling Dream had been kind and offered to help the child.

“It looked kinda like it, but no. It kinda looked like something Uncle Scar would make. It was pretty. He once built a humongous drill to get to the nether. A-And then some of the nether started climbing out, but the hole was waaaaay too big so it didn’t have any chance!”

“That sounds creative.”

“Yeah! He also made a magic village with a big magic crystal, and apparently it helps connect to the hels dimension, so I made a friend there!”

“What’s that?” Puffy asked with a tilt of her head. 

“Oh, the hels dimension is a place parallel to this dimension, but it’s not like another dimension like the overworld and the nether are different dimensions to themselves, hels is like… us, but through a mirror! A funhouse mirror! Like my daddy is really good at redstone like me, and he can get frazzled at times, but he’s really nice. But then there’s the hels version of him who’s like a big mean evil scientist!”

“Oh really. And I suppose you made friends with your hels version?” Puffy asked with a small smile, but Jrum frowned and found his antenna to tug on, squeezing the little blue ball at the end.

“Uh, no. Grum and I were built by our dads, but in hels, they got separated and so they couldn’t build us. So… we don’t have our own hels versions.”

Puffy frowned sadly. “Do you want to talk about that?

“Yeah. I’ve tried telling my dads, but they just sort of reassure me without really listening.”

Puffy got a chair set up for Jrum, ready for an impromptu therapy session which she hoped wouldn’t end as bad as the last one. “Now, what’s bothering you most?”

“Well, the fact that we don’t have our other versions kinda hurts because it sort of makes me feel like we’re less real. I know my dads say that we’re of course real, but it doesn’t hurt less because they just sort of say it and not give reasons. In fact, they sort of give us less reasons because they were really protective about us respawning since they didn’t know how that would work. I mean, I guess they had a reason to worry since Grum and me are here now, but the fact they couldn’t trust us with that kinda hurts.

“And then we need to be charged up as well as eat, but we don’t need to worry about phantoms. I guess it’s a trade off, but no one else has to deal with that! It feels weird! From what Xisuma said, he needed to mess with some files to get us read properly by all his admin stuff, and he didn’t need to do that for others sort of like us, so why are we different?!”

Puffy hugged Jrum to comfort the now crying robot. The small whispers of reassurance helped a little, telling him he really was a person and that he would be safe. Jrum was glad for them he didn’t like the mess he was in, and the fact that it came from not really being a person made it sting even worse. So he was very happy to find someone who would listen and understand.

System hard drive crash. Attempting recovery. Recovering… Recovering… 92% of data recovered. Rebooting… Rebooting… Essential data missing. Please insert external drive for troubleshooting.

External drive connected. Reading external data. 16 files located. Do you wish to replace data with files? Backing up old files. Backing up… Backing up… Data has been backed up. Replacing data. Replacing… Replacing… Replacement complete. Restarting. One moment.

Restart complete. Checking systems. 100% data found. Implementing… Implementing… Files implemented.

Are you sure you want to rename this machine? Renaming… Renaming… Renaming complete. Restart needed to fully implement. Restarting. One moment.

Welcome. Please continue with s s s set u u up. Ch ch choose a l l lan. :) 

Grumbot sat up with a start. He was pretty sure if he wasn’t a robot, he’d be breathing heavily. He put a hand to his head before looking around. It looked like he had been put in a room with a bed, but he didn’t recognize it, and no one else was there.

Grum tried to remember what happened. Had he run out of battery? Or had he gotten damaged. No, he had been trying to [: )] and it didn’t work out. He had also been with Puffy, so perhaps this was another room in her house. It wasn’t one he had seen before, but he also hadn’t really gone exploring.

Getting up from the bed and stretching, Grum decided to do just a little bit of looking around the room to make sure this really was Puffy’s place. He didn’t want to end up in someone else’s place and get in trouble. Though perhaps it was a similar situation to [: )] when they showed up on [: )].

That was another thing he almost forgot. Jrum. Was he okay? He didn’t know how long they had been separated and if it were long enough, he could have gotten in trouble. He had always taken after their [: )] and if the people here weren’t the happiest about stuff like that, it might not end well.

Well, as he looked around, the place seemed safe, and after carefully breaking a piece of the wall before putting it back, he was still at Puffy’s home. He attempted to contact Jrum, but it seemed that function wasn’t working. Possibly because they were no longer in [: )] and it was something there that allowed a direct connection between the two of them.

Grum’s eyes landed on a piece of paper he hadn’t noticed before. It seemed to be a note of sorts, so he read it. It seemed to be from the admin. He wrote how Puffy said Grum passed out and she went to check on Jrum to make sure the same didn’t happen to him. That if he would like, the admin could check him over and make sure everything was fine and there were no programming issues.

The robot rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t have any issues. [: )] and [: )] had built him just fine, Plus Jrum had gotten the two of them updates from [: )] so they were even better. There was no reason to see the admin, especially because…

Because…

Because why? This person was the admin, so he would just be making sure the server ran as smoothly as possible. He likely was just worried. That was all. What admin wouldn’t? And they hadn’t done anything to make Grum think otherwise. If they did, then maybe he would need to be wary. But so far, nothing. 

Puffy suggested they get a treat for Jrumbot to help him cheer up and Jrum wiped away his virtual tears before following her. As they left, neither of them noticed the small red plant wrapping around the antenna and connecting to the now red ball on the end of it.

“Ah ha. Nice joke Theseu- wait a second.” There was silence. “You’re not my brother.”

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Valued Possessions

Word Count: 1.9k  

Pairing: Trainer!Izuku/Dragon-Shifter!Reader

Synopsis: Izuku’s rather fond of his newest find, an exotic Dragon-Shifter set to join his ever-growing collection of beasts and monsters. It’s a shame he has to break you in before he can expect you to fall in line.

TW: Violence, Abuse of Power, Kidnapping, Dehumanization, and Captivity. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a dragon.”

His voice is smooth, unaffected, an ongoing drawl as practiced as the nonchalant smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. It’s been there since you arrived, since his obnoxious, noisy lackeys pulled you out of a cage with iron bars, a muzzle locked over your mouth and shackles around your wrists and ankles, the broken remains of four identical restraints laid at your feet. Izuku, as he insists you call him, saw fit to do away with the muzzle, but you couldn’t be thankful, not when he makes it so clear he’d prefer you keep quiet. You’d already had to endure his humming while he wound your chains around the stone pillar you were currently kneeling in front of, a solitary structure in the center of the cavernous tent he seemed to call home. If an off-tune melody is your reward for cooperation, you have no desire to find out what misbehavior will earn.

Silently, you make plans to tear out his tongue, then his vocal cords, and if you’re feeling generous, his lungs. Anything he could use to get on your nerves.

“Dragons are such wondrous creatures.” He’s behind you, now, his light footsteps only made softer by the bare earth that makes up his floor. It’s just soil and grass, but it’s biting into your knees nonetheless, wedging itself between your scales and doing nothing to aid the steady, pulsing ache in your calves, tight knots of pressure and tension you couldn’t shake out. You need to stand, to stretch, and while you’re all-but sure Izuku can sense your discomfort, you know you won’t be permitted to move until you’re ready to beg for it. Needless cruelty is a staple of humanity, and he’s given you no reason to think him any better than than the rest of his kin. “I used to have a few friends like you - halfbreeds. Half human, half reptile.” Izuku pauses, letting out a disgruntled huff. His own, personal, unpleasant joke. “Although, Kacchan could hardly be called anything but a nuisance.”

You narrow your eyes, speaking under your breath. “You’re one to talk.”

If he hears you, he doesn’t deem the comment worthy of indulgence. Rather, Izuku takes the opportunity to edge closer, the fabric of his thick gloves rustling before falling away completely, his bare fingertips soon brushing against the unprotected, fleshy skin of your shoulder-blade, just above the base of your wing. Automatically, you jerk away, balling your hands into fists and curling into yourself, but Izuku only laughs, the sound breathy and arrogant. The laugh of a man watching his skittish pet shy away from his touch, too simple-minded to realize that it can only run to the end of its leash. “You’re prettier than Kacchan. Fewer scars, duller talons... your scales are a nice color, too,” He says. Then, as if you don’t already know, he adds “They match your eyes.”

You don’t respond, biting the edge of your tongue, but Izuku is already preoccupied. Idly, his attention shifts towards the nape of your neck, his fingers dancing over the patch of scales that protect the top of your spine. He follows the shape, where it narrows and dips, guarding only what’s necessary before trickling to a stop completely, only to pick up again below your knees. With a discontented, throaty noise, he stabs his thumb violently into small of your back, his unoccupied hand clamping around your shoulder as you cry out, more out of shock than pain. Whatever he’s searching for, he doesn’t find, something he makes apparent with an unsatisfied purse of his lips. “No tail.”

You grit your teeth, but it fails to quell your anger. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” You spit, raising your voice before you can make yourself regret the action. “I thought you had eyes--”

Izuku doesn’t care for that. Before you can find a proper end to your insult, something flat and sharp bites into your skin, the vulnerable tissue of the back of your thigh. There’s an eruption of flame beneath your skin, but it fades quickly, leaving a scalding, lasting pain in its wake. One that burnt more than it should’ve. One that hurt more than you’d care to admit. A whip, you realize, just in time for the second blow. You don’t remember when he picked it up, but you don’t particularly care, either. A weapon is a weapon, and the fact that he has the gull to turn one against you at all is enough to make your broiling hate boil over.

“That’s not the kind of language you’re going to use with me,” He coos, his voice nothing short of benign, as if he hadn’t just struck you for no other reason than his own perceived superiority. “We’re friends, are we not? There’s no reason to take that tone with me, not when you and I want the same thing.” Slow, deep circles are pushed into the dip of your shoulder, Izuku’s half-hearted attempt to comfort you. It does little to erase the furious red streaks now decorating your skin. “You want to survive, and I want to see you flourish. If I have to hurt you, it’s only because you’ve done something to warrant discipline.”

“It’s because you’re a sadist,” You grunt, flexing your claws, testing the strength of your chains. They hold true, rattling under their own weight at the slightest shift, reassuring you that you wouldn’t be able to escape them, not without giving Izuku time to do something much worse than inflict a momentary pain. “If you didn’t enjoy this, you wouldn’t--”

Another strike forces your breath to hitch, colliding with your shoulder and seeping onto your chest. Your scales distance the pain, but that only means it lingers, carving out a place in your memory before it began to fade. You don’t cry out, for fear that any sound of displeasure will earn another blow.

Izuku doesn’t bother with a warning when he takes up one of your wings, instead, tearing it away from your back until the appendage is stretched to its full length. It flutters, attempting to tuck back into a position more in tune with its twin, but Izuku’s grip is firm, keeping it in place as he idly runs a finger down a prominent ridge, following the shape from the bend of your wing until it disappears into leathery sinew. You shudder, and Izuku pretends not to notice. “Beautiful wings,” He notes. “It’s a good pair. If I cut them off and sell them to the highest bidder, I’d make a small fortune. Enough to fund your upkeep, and a little extra... It’d only be fair, wouldn’t it?”

It’s involuntary. You don’t say anything, you’re smart enough to bite your tongue and keep quiet, but there’s a twitch, a delayed effort to keep yourself docile, and that’s enough for Izuku. With a light chuckle and a step back, his foot implants itself in your spine, knocking you forward, your chest crashing haphazardly into the stone pillar. The edge collides with your chest, slotting itself between your ribs and refusing to move until a bruise is blooming across your diaphragm. You scream, the noise high-pitched and cut short by your own pride, but Izuku doesn’t pull back. If anything, more of his weight comes to rest on you, the sole of his boot making itself at home on your skin. Taking pleasure in doing so, at that.

“You’re mine,” He growls, the declaration a ridicule in itself. “I paid for you, I brought you here, and now, you belong to me. You’re a monster, and I am the loving, caring hand that’s going to make sure you don’t stumble into another trap or get skinned for your hide. I’m doing you a favor, and you will be thankful for it.” He grinds his heel down, driving a small, pathetic whine from somewhere deep in your throat. Tiny, insignificant, and exactly what Izuku’s looking for. “You’re going to be happy, and I’m going to take very, very good care of you. We’ll work hand in hand as master and pet, and you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

“I’m not an animal.” It takes more restraint that it should not to hiss the words, not to make a fact into a warning. If you hadn’t been captured, restrained and collared like an unruly mutt, you would’ve strung him to the nearest tree branch with his own intestines hours ago, and you would’ve done so with joy. It’s a difficult feat not to let that impact the way you speak. “I’m not human, but I’m not a monster, either. I’m not mindless.” You swallow dryly, remaining quiet for a moment, but Izuku fails to cut in. It’s a relief, and yet, his silence is enough to make you shrink into yourself, your confidence unshaken but suppressed. “You can’t treat me as if I am, not if you expect me to be grateful.”

A second passes, and you begin to hold your breath. But, Izuku’s eventual response comes without malice. “Yes, I can.”

It’s all you can do to remember how to talk. “What?”

“I can.” He pulls away, the pressure falling away from your back, but you don’t move, staying slouched over the pillar as if it was a lifeline, rather than a hindrance. Slowly, he circles to face you, and for the first time, you can see him clearly. His attire, all well-worn tunics and clothes made to guard against creatures much more imposing than yourself, his pale skin, littered with scars from his neckline to his wrists, and his eyes, dark and foreboding and so terrible, focused on you and unwilling to center on everything else, even when you manage to rip yourself away. Your head bows before you can summon your courage, but Izuku’s quick to correct your posture, his fingers soon rooted in your hair, wrenching you upward and forcing you to meet his gaze. He’s done giving you a choice, if he was ever willing to. “And I will. You might’ve been something before, but now, you’re one of my beasts, and I intend to train you appropriately. You’ll be grateful for my generosity, or I’ll make you act like you are. Regardless of how much I have to shave away to reach the golden, obedient core I know you have.”

Instinctually, you bare your teeth, but the gesture is feeble, much too little and far too late. Izuku only smiles as he leans forward, pushing a quick, chaste kiss into your forehead. You’d say it seems apologetic, but his broad, remorseless grin crushes your hope before it can start to take shape. “Be thankful,” He says, standing to his full height.

Somehow, he seems so much taller than he was, seconds ago.

“I might be the only person who sees you as human enough to warrant such thorough efforts.”