#which sucks i like feeling sore it’s like my body telling me she’s growing <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[newyorkxpizza]

i picked the wrong week to start working out i moved out of my old apartment and into my new one today and i feel. so. fucking tired. and my muscles are all so sore and i wanted to go this morning but i didn’t get enough sleep to the point where it would have negatively affected me to go in the morning

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 4 - MONTH 3 - GROWING PAINS

First - Prev - Next

Everything hurts.

I started noticing it about two weeks after my first dose. It felt like a dull headache at first, but over the next month it spread to pretty much my entire body.

I had to start working from home, and eventually it got bad enough that I could only put in a few hours of work each day. My boss is a reasonable enough guy, but he wasn't going to pay a full time salary for part time hours, so I had to take a salary cut.

Luckily, my partner is around to take care of daily errands, not to mention being there to reassure and comfort me when the pain gets bad. They've been thinking about seeing if Lindwurm HRT is a thing, but they don't want to get the process started until I'm in the clear and can take care of myself again.

Gods I love them.

The reason the pain is happening, as best I can tell, is that my skeletal structure is already changing. I've gotten at least an inch taller, and my face has been reshaping into a feline muzzle. My teeth are getting sharper, and I'm developing proper fangs. I also noticed a little while ago that my fingernails and toenails had receded into their respective digits, which sucks for two reasons - I can't paint fingernails I don't have, and they are sore as HELL when I put any amount of pressure on them. I have to be REALLY careful with how I type to not inflict agony on myself. I'm also feeling my tail growing in, and even if it hurts, it's euphoric as HELL. A tail was always the part I wanted most out of this.

It's weird, the skeletal changes weren't supposed to happen this early. I've been trying to reach Dr. Erian about it, but he's constantly busy, probably because of the sudden surge of people looking for Humanity Removal Therapy.

Other than that, I've been getting areas of white and black fur coming in - mostly on my arms and legs, but a little bit on my face and ears - ears that are gradually reshaping and migrating. Nothing to report on hearing sensitivity, but I think my night vision is getting better.

I did a little bit of looking around for anyone with similar pain experiences. I got my hopes up when I found a girl, Antonina, who had a painful experience with Cat HRT, but it turns out it's because she took the rumoured Fifteen Minute version. She described the pain as "like bathing in an active volcano".

It leaves me wondering whether I would have preferred a 15-minute lava bath over a months-long full-body headache.

I ended up reaching out to her anyway, just because I wanted to know what I was in for in the endgame and feline HRT is rarer than I thought it would be. Sounds like the prey drive is the real deal - she keeps feeling the urge to bite this one girl who's on mouse HRT.

We've been spending some time comparing notes and getting to know each other. It's nice to know someone else who's going through this thing, even if our experiences aren't exactly one-to-one.

I also talked to my mother for the first time in nearly a year. I went No Contact with her a while back because she was only getting more obnoxious and combative about me being trans, but I figured changing my species is a big enough deal that I should keep her in the loop.

Besides, my savings had nearly dried up and I needed to ask her for money.

It… did not go well. She hadn't heard of therian HRT before, and once I explained it, she started panicking about how I'm "mutilating my body" with "untested treatments". I think I also heard her cry something about how her "son" is "killing himself", which is just multiple layers of insensitive.

At least she sent me some money. Hopefully it'll be enough to last until my transformation stops being agonizing and I can go back to work, and then I can go right back to pretending my family doesn't exist.

At roughly the three-month mark, I have a check-in video call with Dr. Erian. From the moment his face appears on screen, though, I can tell something is wrong. He seems… older, somehow.

"Hello, Miss Alexis.", he offers. He sounds tired. Sorrowful, even.

"Hey, doc." I have to ask about it. "Everything okay? You seem a bit tired."

"Nothing to worry about Miss Alexis, just the ordinary stresses of daily life."

Liar. I know I'm not entitled to details of your personal life, much less your professional secrets, but I know when something is eating at someone.

"…Does the word 'crossroads' mean anything to you, Miss Alexis?"

Huh? That came a bit out of left field. "I've… heard some other therian HRT patients use the term, but I don't know much of the details. Something about a point of no return?"

"Something of the sort." He lowers his head and seems to go from sorrowful to downright grim. "There will come a time, Miss Alexis, when you will have to make a very important decision in your care, and I ask that you do so with great consideration for the consequences."

I recoil a little in my seat. "Yeah… Of course I will. Any decision I make, even reaching out to you in the first place, I don't take it lightly."

"Good… That's good." His demeanor shifts back to his stoic, clinical self. I don't know what just happened, but he went somewhere for a moment there.

"Now then, I did receive your messages, I apologize for not getting back to you. You mentioned you were experiencing persistent and debilitating whole-body soreness?"

"Yeah. I can't even leave the apartment most days, it hurts so much."

"Odd… You are taking the treatment as directed, yes?"

"Of course. One tablespoon a week, just like it says on the bottle."

I see his eyes twitch behind his glasses. Did I say something wrong?

"…Teaspoon."

I cock my head to the side. "Say again?"

"You mean one TEASPOON a week, yes?"

I feel my heart sink. The dark smear on the dosage information… I could have sworn it said '1 tbsp/week'.

"…Could you hold on a second please?" I mute the mic and call out to my partner to bring the bottle of tiger HRT over. When they do, I unmute and hold it up to the webcam. I hear Dr. Erian take a sharp intake of breath as he notices the obscured instructions.

I set the bottle aside and the two of us share an awkward silence.

"So…", I begin. "…How bad is it?"

"The good news", he offers slowly, "is that you have only been taking three times the prescribed dose. An increased dose imbalances the growth rate of the different parts of your body, hence your pain and persistent weakness, but it could have been much worse."

I think back to the so-called Fifteen Minute version, and Antonina's description of it - like bathing in an active volcano.

Dr. Erian continues. "Assuming you return to a CORRECT dose, your growth rates will gradually level out over the course of the next month or so. It is my medical opinion that you should maintain a low-activity lifestyle until then, but you will eventually be able to return to your typical activity level, and you will also find that the physical effects become more… consistent."

"That's… reassuring. Thank you, doctor." I pause. Something I noticed a little while ago has been weighing on my mind. "There's one thing, though - do the treatments have… I guess you'd call them restorative or regenerative effects? I've noticed some old wounds aren't there anymore."

The doctor clicks his pen and brings up his notepad. "Interesting. Do go on, Miss Alexis."

"Well… I used to get lower back pain from a car crash injury I got a little over a year ago, but I haven't noticed it at all lately. Pretty much the only part that DOESN'T hurt… There also used to be some marks on my arm from a cat biting me when I was little." I give a slight smile. "The cat's name was Tiger, go figure."

Dr. Erian is writing the whole time I'm talking. "Yes, that is to be expected. Minor persistent injuries will fade over time as your body re-forms itself to a new baseline, even severe chronic symptoms may fade. If there are no other concerns…"

"Just one… Most of the other therian HRT patients I've talked to have gotten their meds as pills, so what's with the potion bottle?"

Dr. Erian pauses, and adjusts his glasses nervously, as if he's been caught out on something he doesn't want to admit to. "Well… advances in the field are occurring rapidly, and you are one of the more recent patients, so a more… streamlined option was available to you. I took the liberty of choosing the most compatible option based on your medical records, and that bottle is it."

"Okay… But what's IN it?"

"The active ingredients are antihominidone, which is your humanity-blocker, and a specialized formula of felistrogen, infused with white tiger genetic material. The rest of the fluid is a suspension used to dilute the effects, without which you would be looking at a short, but excruciating and potentially lethal process."

The Fifteen Minute version, I think to myself. I'm taking diluted Fifteen Minute meds. There's no WAY this isn't experimental, and I'M the experiment. I despise saying it, but maybe my mother was right to worry.

"But I'm afraid I really do have to go, Miss Alexis, my next appointment is waiting."

"G-gotcha. See ya, doctor."

---

Special thanks to @paintedbytosia for letting me write her in, and shoutout to @megamoonerjenny for coming up with 'antihominidone'

[spidercrusadersworld]

part four anyone?

Peters pov

ok, not gonna lie, this sucks

My ribs are broken, it hurts to breathe and I only have twelve hours to live. but the worse part, is the silence.

at least when the scorpion was here, I had something to do, I had quips to say, and witty comebacks to give.

but nothing is worse than the silence.

nothing is worse than being alone with your thoughts.

I keep on telling myself, they're watching, Mj is watching, Maya is watching, don't make this harder for them than it already is.

suddenly, an indescribable pain floods my entire body, as all of my muscles cramp up all at once, all of my muscles lock up, and ripple with pain. there's no resisting the screams that go through my body. it echoes in my ears as my locked body begs to be able to squirm, to do anything, but I can't.

Maya's Pov, seven and a half hours left.

I run across rooftops and up walls, My watch alerts me of something,

i look over and see the live broadcast of peter screaming in pure pain, and I run faster. my body is sore but I don't care.

Six hours left

My watch tells me that i've reached my destination and I duck behind the ledge of a roof top. My whole body is wrecked with pain, shaking from non-stop full speed running, my vision blurring from exertion. I lay there for a few seconds to catch my breath before I peak over the ledge and scan the building with my watch there's a lot of goons in there, and to my surprise, most of which have guns. the scab shows me where the footage is being broadcast from. it's from a device at the top of the building, the only way a normal person could get up there would be to go inside and head up the staircase.

luckily I'm not a normal person, I climb the walls up the back of the building, and reach the roof. I know that as soon as I stop the broadcast all of the goons will know something is wrong, and they'll probably all come up here to see what happend, But I have an advantage. there's only one way up to the roof, so hopefully when they inevitably, get up here, it'll be like they all came up single file and I'll pick them off one by one. the main obstacle is to avoid getting shot.

so I build up a ball of webbing, and use my powers to make it stretchy, i stretch it out until I have a long sheet as big as a hoolahoop then I use my powers to harden it and give it the properties of metal. and i use webbing to attach it to my forearm. I get a little light headed by doing all that, but It passes. after successfully making myself a shield i go to start getting to work on break the broadcasting device.

Four hours left

I panicked after seeing what time it was when I finished deactivating the machine, it had backups, to its backups to its backups. I can see the goons coming up the stairs and I prepare for the worst

Two hours left

Peter's Pov

I know that I'm reaching the end of my rope when I start hearing voices, I'm freezing cold, in constant, mind numbing pain.

I pray. I don't pray often, but right now I do, I pray to uncle ben, and to aunt may, I pray that may family isn't watching, I pray that maya is okay when I'm gone, I pray that she doesn't Isolate herself again. I pray that Mayday grows up happy without her father, and I pray that she will never know this pain.

I know i'm sweating but i'm freezing cold and shivering. My throat feels like it's closing in on itself, and every beat of my heart shoots up pain throughout my entire body.

I hear commotion happening but I'm sure It's just another hallucination

one and a half hours left.

I go down the stairs webbing up bad guys as they come up, I'm exhausted, but I keep going, fear and adrenaline keeps me from stopping. Finally, I reached the 3 floor where one of the guards said Peter was. it's incredibly cold and I look through the window of the door and I see him, I see peter. laying limp, shivering, and muttering.

I rush in the room, smash the camera into pieces, and rush over to an all too still peter. I shake him.

"peter! ...PETER!" i check for a heartbeat and i find a very weak one. I grab his hand, and lower my head in relief.

He's alive, I'm exhausted and sore and bruised and cut but he's alive. I realize one thing.

He's alive...

But he's still dying.

end of part four

@i-put-the-wit-in-dimwit

[tteokdoroki]

Imagine your favs making out on your pussy :(( alternating which one sucks on your clit :(( and they'd be so mean about when you whine

## new match ! -> that’s a good girl.

— re: izuku midoriya ft. rody soul.

— a/n: HI VIX HEHE THIS IS FOR YEW, <rody soul beloved3

— cw: smut, mdni 18+, oral sex, threesomes, condescending doms ig?, fem!reader.

— wc: idk lol i wrote this in my drafts </3

:(( being deku’s pretty gf who he shares with rody when the brunette comes to visit!! you’re so oblivious to it all, the way the two beeg strong men lure you up into the bedroom— deku praising you for being so polite meeting rody and rody never stopping the compliments rolling off of his tongue !!

it’s not long before your back hits the sheets, your boyfriend his companion looming over you, teasing off your slick underwear and pushing apart your trembling thighs. poor baby, you don’t know where to look, who to touch as they play with your folds— deku’s fingers spreading your fat n puffy lips open so rody can get a good look at his first pretty cunt. 🥺🥺

“she’s got the prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen...” rody coos, breath tickling your inner thighs as his tongue runs a lap up your drooling slit, messy from the praise your boyfriend had knowingly fed you. your body is hot, hotter than ever and when you look to shining emerald eyes— they’re reassuring, telling you it’s okay for you let out those cute little gasps that you usually save for him, it’s okay to rut your hips into rody’s face until his nose bumps your sensitive clit. it’s okay baby, go ahead, deku’s eyes say and you can’t help but whine his name— yearning for his touch even though your hands are twisted in a sea of brown hair.

oh rody soul, literally sucking the soul from your sweet little pussy— not used to the roughness that comes with his tongue as it pokes and prods at your blossoming sex to gather every drop you leak before it runs into the sheets. he’s not like your deku, not at all. biting your folds, pulling at your clit with your teeth until it’s his name you’re saying and not your lover’s. “none of that, yeah? ‘m the one making you feel good. we’ll make a deal kay? i make you feel like this over and over,” he slurs and thrusts his tongue into you, curling it against your sensitive insides, spitting onto your clit and you gasp and deku gasps— humping the bed at the sight of you being ravaged by his good pal. “and you moan my name. if y’want something y’gotta pay for it, pretty girl.”

“r-rody please! i-i want it, wan’ it, wan’ it!” you wail, you demand— squealing as he dives back in, seemingly satisfied as he eats your cunt like he’s never tasted pussy before, like the sweet cream dripping from your raw folds is liquid gold. your voice grows raspy, throat sore as you cry his name over and over with every stroke of his tongue against your inner walls— tears near brimming in your eyes as you screw them shut and let the pleasure take over. “‘m gonna cum! lemme cum rody!”

it stops before you can cum, when your legs are shaking the most and you can barely get a word out without choking on your own saliva. “oh no baby, what happened to your manners? usually you’re so good for me, are you misbehaving’ cause i brought a guest along? that’s no good.” you recognise the tongue that writes those soft words against your sex, lapping up your essence with such familiarity— your hand is still in rody’s hair as he bites and sucks pretty bruises into your inner thighs but you’d recognise the curls of izuku’s anywhere, his hot mouth sucking on your poor teased clit, sending his possessive growls through your body when he and rody fight with their tongues over the spot— practically making out against your sex. “feel that baby, rody’s bein’ so nice to you, playing with your pretty princess parts. and i’m being so nice by sharing. what do you say?”

“t-thank you!” comes your muffled sob, shoving your face into the sheets— thighs threatening to snap shut.

they’re quickly forced down by two hands, an odd pair with one belonging to each other men who ravage you, destroy you and take turns playing with your clit using the tip of their tongues or shoving them into your spasming hole. “t-thank you!” rody mocks you, swiping his pink muscle over his nectar glazed lips— earning a chuckle from your green haired boyfriend. “thank you, what? i thought deku said you were a good girl.”

he nudges izuku between your thighs, who looks up at you with trusting green eyes again. “thank you. t-thank you rody! thank you izu!” you cry out, back arching as you writhe against the sheets :( before the two boys go back to ruining your pretty princess parts.

“that’s right, that’s a good girl,” izuku praises, licking up the spit his friend’s let drool onto your sex— sending your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

[elysianslove]

omg wait ok who in jjk do you think is an ass, thigh or tits person?? also congrats on 4k thats so sexc of u!!! you're so talented you deserve every one of them <33 MWAH

bb thank you so much ily so much <333 kiss kiss mwah <333 and! thank you for asking this i have been waiting for this ask to come into my inbox. warning; suggestive and mentions of nsfw

ITADORI YUUJI is an ass person. aside from the fact that it’s canon, i see him as someone that’s just mesmerized with ass. loves seeing it in jeans, or those patterned loose pants yk the one that make everyone’s ass jiggle, or in a tight dress, or in booty shorts. and not just that! he loves to be touching you too. as his s/o, you are never free from his groping hands. loves to lift you up and just place his hands on your ass, to ‘keep you steady’ or whatever, and also loves to lay on your ass if you’re on your stomach. makes you laugh so it jiggles against his head/cheek. he’s a bit too shy to smack your ass in public, but catch him doing it all the time at home. like as you’re passing by him or standing there minding your business. or just always having a handful of your ass when you two are sitting down/cuddling. definitely fake fucks you when you bend over too just saying. 

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI i see more as a tits kinda guy. he says doesn’t have a preference, but that all changes when he sees you in a low-cut revealing shirt. he’s a respectful guy so he will be trying not to look. it doesn’t really work though. it’s not that he doesn’t like ass or thighs, it’s more that whenever he sees your tits it goes to his dick a lot quicker lmao. he loves, loves, loves it when you don’t wear a bra, no matter the shirt you wear, no matter your breast size, and if it’s see through as well? consider him dead. oh and megumi’s hands are large. i’m not saying he has a size kink but, there’s just something about the way they look against your breasts. also! he really likes,,, just, kinda, fondling with them. holding them, groping them, as he’s sitting there. it’s fun. and warm. also adores stuffing his face against your chest, even if you have small tits, he just likes it. it’s all about the intimacy of laying on your lover’s naked chest for him <3 

KUGISAKI NOBARA is definitely a tits kinda girl. like no questions, no criticisms, nothing just vibes and titties. she loves the way they look, the way they feel, in her hands, in her mouth, literally anything and everything. considering she has breasts too, she knows just how comforting it is to hold onto them just randomly. if you have big breasts, she’s in heaven as she stuffs her face against them, nothing nsfw just cause. if you have small breasts, she’s still in heaven as she just sucks on them as a stress reliever. she’s like a toddler when she’s stressed like ‘lemme suck on your tiddies pls’ lmfao. also!! she is a fashion icon, an star, an idol, she knows the type of clothes that look flattering and which don’t. also she loves to go bra shopping with you just so she can get into the changing room and start groping and bouncing your breasts to test out the bra, as she claims. but yes, she’s a titties girl! 

RYOMEN SUKUNA is, if not an all kinda guy, a thighs man. wears them like ear muffs lmfao. his infatuation was first purely nsfw, and he would show it by constantly leaving bruises all over them, marking you, whether it was from his tight, vice like grip, or from his mouth. but then over time it became just genuine love and fascination, especially after that one time you had whined at him after sex to just massage your sore thighs for you. he’d begrudgingly agreed, but then he ended up loving the feel of kneading them in his strong hands. and after growing comfortable with cuddling, his favorite position is just where his head is in between your thighs and your ankles are crossed at his chest. he can stay like that for hours honestly. also he likes to have his hands resting there, squeezing every once in a while. but, like i said, sukuna just likes your body in general. 

INUMAKI TOGE was a little more difficult to decide, and i’m still not that sure of this, but i think he’d be an ass person, just because i think he’s lowkey very touchy with his s/o and he’d like to just— rest his hands there all the time. likes it when the two of you are cuddling and you leg is lifted up across him, allowing him to settle his hand on the curve of your ass. also he’s lowkey a very cheeky person when it comes to his s/o, so i can just imagine as you’re laying down on your tummy, he pats your ass and every time it jiggles he giggles to himself lightly. also the type to rest against his s/o’s ass just cause but he would actually fall asleep like that. also! whenever he’s resting like that, he likes to give your ass a little peck, just a small smooch, a token of appreciation if you will, before he pats where he kissed lightly, and in his own way he just says,��“nice :D.” 

GOJŌ SATORU. ass. ass. ass. ass. ass. ass man! is absolutely in love with your ass. smacks it in public with zero shame, just sends a teasing grin your way, and like, finger guns at you with a wink or something. when you walk past him at home in shorts or like only your underwear, he likes to give it a nice little pat. every single time. and when you bend over while he’s sitting on the couch or laying on the bed or something, he calls out in the cheekiest, most teasing, most annoying voice, “nice.” i hate his sexy ass sm. does tiktoks with you that include you throwing it back on him because he wants to give you reason to. loves to watch you put on your clothes, especially jeans, when you like jump in them. he’s just a pervert with a license to constantly hit on you. 

NANAMI KENTŌ is also definitely an ass man. look at him. tell me he doesn’t love ass. loves to fondle and grope it all the time, no matter where you are, and he’s very good at making it look subtle too so he gets away with doing in public too. nanami strikes me as someone that’s slightly possessive, not unhealthily so, but he does always like to subtle hand on you whenever the two of you are out, and more often than not his hand’s resting right above your ass. also he’s a very giving partner, in all ways, so i see him offering to give you massages all the time. definitely lingers on your ass, kneading strongly yet softly, even if you don’t need it? he just likes to do it. is not as open about it as the others, but he’s very obvious about it hehe

ZENIN MAKI is a thighs girl. also is the type to love stuffing her face in between them, but it’s a fixation kinda thing where she cannot stop ogling at your legs, specifically your thighs. loves to grope and squeeze at them all the time, and her all time favorite thing is seeing you in thigh highs, where the stockings squeeze at your thighs just a little. it makes her mind cloud over. 

ZENIN MAI is a a tits girl. i was thinking maybe she’s an ass girl, but i’m so certain she wouldn’t be able to take her eyes off of you or your cleavage if you wore anything to show off your breasts. definitely likes to lay on your chest and kiss and suckle on them, just randomly. also kinda a possessive thing, cause she will absolutely leave marks. she just. loves your tits okay? 

GETŌ SUGURU is an ass man. loves seeing you all dressed up in outfits that show your ass off, and almost always he won’t really touch, not unless the two of you were really intimate, but he looks. he looks so much, and he makes it so obvious that he’s checking you out. in public, at home, doesn’t matter. he’ll be eyeing you up and down and will have this sultry smirk as he glances at your ass. kinda hot ngl.

MAHITO is also a little bit tricky because i want to say ass, but i also want to say tits. somewhere in between ass and tits then. he has like,,, moods for them you know. sometimes he won’t stop ogling at your breasts, and other times he can’t keep his hands off your ass. either way, he’s very teasing about it, and he will buy you really provocative clothes to show both off. so kind <3

[parkers-gal]

yay! okay so I was thinking, what I'd the reader and Tom had a fight, could be over anything, but the reader was pregnant and a few years after, they bump into each other and they get back together. Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a fat couple of months… sorry 😭

wc: 1.7k ! <3

—

“No, because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the fact that my life doesn’t revolve around you and your needs.” Tom spits out the words angrily, viciously, voice harsh and crisp.

You’re both frustrated beyond belief, and the bubble that had been overblown had finally popped, splattering your relationship and all the joyful aspects of it. Right now, you felt as if all that was left was the toxicity of two unbearable people who happened to love each other. You knew, deep down, that you loved each other enough to get through this, but with every passing moment, with every exchanged word, you realized at least one of you wouldn’t survive the damage.

“No, Tom. You’re selfish. You’re conceited and you only care about being a goddamn movie star. What happened to the family man, huh? What happened to staying tied down with me and your brothers?”

“Nothing happened to him! I’m still that person. I am a family guy.”

“Not to me, you aren't.”

“Well you’re not family!” He seethes through his teeth, anger radiating off of his short-tempered demeanor. You don’t even know how to react, so you spend the time soaking in the situation and how you should respond instead of actually doing it.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I asked when I could spend time with you and now you don’t even consider me as part of the family.”

“No,” He’s clear and concise even through the anger. “You asked when I’m going to stop living my life.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to! We both know that’s what you meant.”

“You’re not even on the same page as me anymore,” You scoff, arms crossing. “Seems like all this time in Hollywood made you forget that you’re not always the main character.”

“Fuck that, Y/N! Fuck! That!”

“No, Tom. Fuck. You.” You over-express your emotions, and after two more minutes of unbearable silence and screaming, he’s leaving your apartment just as fast as he arrived. You’re in shock, fingers shaking while you clear your throat, which is frayed and sore from all the yelling.

You sit back, elbows on your knees while your hands smoothen out your forehead. Tear after tear escapes your sobbing body, and eventually, you fall asleep on the couch.

In the weeks to come, you’ve realized the blow-out of a breakup could’ve been handled so much differently, but Tom hasn’t seemed to cool down at all — he’s petty enough to unfollow you on all social media, and you figure it’s time to let the hatred be mutual. You don’t touch your imessages, however, letting the love in those texts linger for a little longer.

Before you know it, you’re throwing up into the toilet boil, coughing violently at the action and spitting the bitter taste as best you can. You clean up, and when you check your phone, a small notification from your period tracker app alerts you that this is the second period in a row that has gone by without a hello.

Worried, you call Aisha, your closest friend and confidant. She’s over in no time, bringing along her girlfriend while you rant on the phone about your worries. They stop at the drugstore on the way.

The cause of your problems is discovered that day, and you collapse on the bathroom floor in agony, hands wiping at your face — through all the anger and fear and worry, you still love Tom. So much that Aisha even attempts to call Tom. But, alas, it’s sent straight to voicemail, and you realize he might’ve gone to extreme extents in blocking everyone.

You’re stuck going to the ultrasound with two lesbians and a frail old cat. Aisha is as supportive as ever, but as the doctor explains the process of each option, you feel sicker and sicker about the idea of getting rid of the fetus. In the end, you choose to keep the child you’re bearing, even if your ex-lover isn’t even in the picture.

Inevitably, the months pass, and as baby Charlie is brought into the wonderful world, you realize life as a single mother isn’t as scary as you thought it would be. In the first few months of your pregnancy, you’d kept tabs on what film Tom was doing and which was coming out next, but after the hormones and cravings, you’d decided to let the past sizzle and fade out in the way it was meant to all along.

It’s been almost three years since that fateful breakup, and Charlie is just reaching two and a half years old. You’re still single, and you’re okay with that. Charlie is all you need, all you’ve ever wanted, and the most important thing in your life. He’s young, and school is still a couple years away, but you enjoy having the toddler by your side, walking hand in hand with you because you’re his guardian, his provider, his only parent. You make him your only priority, because you don’t want him to grow up without anyone to love, or anyone to love him.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because he’s a constant reminder of what didn’t happen, a constant reminder of what went wrong and of what you no longer have. You miss Tom more than words can express, and Charlie’s mop of brown curls reminds you of all the moments you’d run your fingers through Tom’s hair. You reminisce more than you’d like to, about Tom and your past, and though Charlie is technically half of the Brit, he’s one hundred percent yours. Because you’re the only one here, and that’s alright.

“Mummy,” Charlie tugs on your shirt’s hem while you move the shopping cart forward through the aisle. “Can we get the goldfish with superheroes?”

You jutt your lip out in a smile, nodding happily. “Of course we can, bub.”

As you step forward, you pit stop in the aisle, nearly tripping on the cart. You make direct eye contact with the man you used to love with your entire heart. The man who walked out with your heart and never gave it back. He’s staring right back at you, curls looking as fluffy as ever, face still a soft glow. Your breath hitches, and it’s then that you realize Charlie is still talking.

“Mummy?” He asks, and it’s just loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry, who’s beside Tom with an arm full of crackers and chips. Tom moves forward a few steps, hastily in an attempt to get more information.

“Uh, hi,” His smile is tight lipped as he stands at the other end of your shopping cart. Charlie shies away from strangers, standing behind your leg and holding your shirt with his grubby hands.

“Hi,” you return his awkward, reserved demeanor.

“Mummy who’s this?”

“‘Mummy?’” Tom has a follow up question for everything, and you internally panic, unsure on how to approach this.

You’d spent so long deciding how you should tell Tom that he was a dad. You spent hours debating on if you should pick up the phone or drive over just to tell him a truth you’ve kept inside for so long. You’ve abandoned social media, only sharing aspects of your life you can afford to post. Charlie is only occasionally on your page, but it’s not like Tom would see that, not after all that’s happened.

Your mouth opens and closes while you debate on how to reply. You’re physically incapable of saying your response, and it makes you even more nervous. You’re nervous on how he might react, what he’ll say, but most importantly, if he’ll stay.

“Is this…?

“My kid…” You fill in. “I- I mean our… our kid.” You pull your bottom lip between your rows of teeth, and you watch as Tom’s face undergoes thousands of expressions all at once. He’s surprised, shocked, happy, afraid, uncertain. You want the world to swallow you whole, suck you up so you don’t have to go through any of this again. But you don’t. Instead, you hold Charlie’s hand a little tighter.

“Our kid?” He drops a can of soup and you flinch at the loud noise.

“Mummy, who’s that?”

“That’s…” You don’t know how to answer his question. Instead, you lean down to his level, comfortingly and gently. “He’s a man.”

“Who’s that man?”

“He’s… your daddy.”

“I thought… no daddy?”

You purse your lips and furrow your brows. Tom’s watching the entire encounter from his place, but after a few beats, he steps forward, entering your bubble. Charlie doesn’t cower away this time, but looks up in curiosity.

“Hi, Charlie,” Tom extends his hand, adjusting his jeans so he can lean down just as you are, kneeling beside the young boy.

You look down, avoiding your worries and Tom’s gaze. He’s tearing up, and you want to cry too. You’re in a fucking supermarket, for god’s sake. This wasn’t how you envisioned any of this planning out, and though you’re mentally kicking yourself for letting it happen this way, you can’t help but feel like maybe this was meant to be. Written in the stars or whatever the folks say — you’re just grateful Charlie has at least a sliver of hope for two parents. Not that you can’t handle it, because you can, but you know someone like Tom wouldn’t want to miss something as important as this.

“I’m To- I’m…” He swallows thickly, making brief eye contact with you before looking back at Charlie. “I’m your dad.”

“Do you love my mummy?” He’s not shameless, but he’s still that shy little boy. “My friend says daddy’s love mommy’s so you must love mine, right?”

Tom lets a tear fall while he exhales a chuckle. He swipes the drop with the tips of his fingers, and the hand gripping Charlie’s squeezes it a little tighter. A glance in your direction is all it takes for him to answer Charlie’s question. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

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[otptings]

Insomnia

-Idol ~ Kun

-Genre ~ Sick Fic, Smut, Fluff

-Warnings ~ insomnia, lack of appetite & weight loss, pillow princess by force, oral (f receiving), passionate fucking, dry humping? (she's half naked but he's fully dressed), daddy kink, rough sex, choking, degradation,

-Word Count ~ 2.9k+

-Synopsis ~ Sleeping never comes easy to. You've tried everything from exercising, to warm milk. Maybe the one thing you've been missing is some late night loving?

-A/n ~ loosely inspired by sky Insomnia, the rose insomnia, and dreamcatcher sleep-walking. best to listen to any of those songs as you read it, might help set the mood even though those are all break up songs lmfao. I also have my ko-fi link in my bio help raise more money to help me buy essentials for my emotional support animal, I cannot work at the minute because of my treatment for type 1 bipolar disorder, and door dash doesn't allow me to save up abundantly enough, if you could even only share it I would greatly appreciate it. anyway hope you enjoy this and thank you for reading

Sleep and you have always had a complicated relationship. Fighting sleep as a kid, climbing out of your bed after your parents tucked you in, playing with your toys until you passed out among us. At sleepovers you were always the one who stayed up all night, too excited to actually get tired.

As a teenager spending nights before school desperately trying to finish homework, staying up until the early morning hours, quickly taking a shower before running to the bus. If you had no assignments your crush at the time would distract you, joking and blushing until it was time to leave for school, bags under your eyes prominent, but the loss of sleep was worth it.

Now the only thing you wanted was to sleep.

Insomnia took over your life. Staying up sometimes days at a time, struggling to calm your racing thoughts that were determined to keep you up at night. They won most nights. Laying in your bed, struggling to get comfortable or staring up at the ceiling, willing sleep to overtake you. Even with the medication from the doctor you struggled to get more than 3 hours a night.

You tried other remedies too. Drinking warm milk with cinnamon and vanilla, the warm concoction soothing but never tiring you out. Exercising before bed that truly made you feel amazing but never worked to tire you out, only forcing you to feel the soreness in your body as you laid in bed. No electronics before bed helped you finish multiple books series that you had wanted to start but never had time for, but didn't work.

Everything you tried was in vain. Sleep continued to evade you, and it only took a higher toll on your physical body.

Your appetite started to lessen, your weight slowly declined. The bags under your eyes only got deeper and darker. Concerns about your physical state came form your friends, their worries growing as you continued to get worst and worst. It came to a peak when you almost passed out at an outing, shaky from the constant stream of caffeine that you were consuming in order to function properly, your eyes fluttering close as you collapsed into their arms. Concern was properly covering their face, and they rushed you to the hospital, you were too weak to even try and decline them.

At the hospital they gave you strict instructions to stay home and rest, with someone watching you over to make sure that you were properly taken care of. Along with instructions you got even stronger medication, 20 mgs stronger than what you were currently taking.

Kun being the thoughtful person he is offered to watch you while you were on bedrest. He was the best candidate out of your friends, the others practically pushing you to accept him.

Kun has been the best assistant? nurse? friend that you could ask for. Constantly at your beck and call making sure that you were drinking plenty of water, cooking you fresh homemade meals, and making sure your medication was taken on time. Along with that he also did the awkward task of helping you to the bathroom, since you were still shaky and weak at times.

He did this all without complaint, catering to you everyday and making sure that you were cared for. Sometimes when he wasn't busy with his own work he would sit and watch a drama with you, or just engage in conversation telling you about his day, and the funny things he did and heard.

Having him helping you 24/7 for 2 weeks straight, had caused some unwelcome feelings. Your friends weren't surprised at that, having been part of the reason why they suggested he did it, knowing your past feelings for him. With only a week left of your bedrest you were saddened at the thought that he was leaving, going back to only talking to him once or twice a week whenever the friend group hung out.

Kun had actually been the one who surprised you. Seeing that you were still up one night, thoughts of him running through your mind when he entered your room. Upon seeing you awake he sat on your bed, holding your hand as you asked what's up. You weren't truthful. Who would be truthful in that scenario? 'Hey actually I was up thinking about my crush on you and the desire that I constantly have to kiss you."

You were positive that wouldn't have gone through well.

Kun rubbed your hand soothingly, listening patiently to you as you lied about what you were thinking about, fake worries and complaints about going back to work. Offering you advice was always Kun's strong suit so you were ready for some good advice despite your lies.

That's what got you in this peculiar position.

Lip tucked tightly between your teeth, the taste of copper on your tongue. One hand grasping at the pillow behind you squeezing it tightly between your fingers, the other intertwined with dark blue hair as you tried not to pull too hard.

Kun thought the best thing to clear your mind was sex, and who were you to deny his generous offer.

You felt your hips jerking as tongue pressed his tongue against your hole, shallowly fucking into you. His free hand rubbed up your thigh, the sensation combining with him eating you out causing your mind to start to go blurry. His hand continued to glide up, before pressing down on your hips, forcing them down on the bed.

Without the ability to move you could only lie there as he continued to tongue fuck you. The fire in your stomach increasing, and Kun seemed to know it as he kissed your clit before sucking on it aggressively, causing your first orgasm to rip through your body.

Kun continued his ministrations, licking up your cum causing the fire to come back threefold. Kun sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue over it as you wriggled from the sensitivity. He seemed to be made for this, the way his tongue knew the perfect ways to fuck you open, and he hadn't even involved his fingers or cock yet.

Pulling away from your cunt you saw your juices covering Kun's mouth leaking down his chin. His hair was sticking every which way how you were messing, and pulling on it. Kun looked like all of your wet dreams had happened to come through.

"So pretty." A laugh let his mouth, a smiling spreading over his lips.

"Wish you could see yourself," Kun slid his hand up and down your thigh, rubbing it soothingly, "You're gorgeous. I've been wanting to do this for so long."

Kun changed the positions so that you were on top, straddling his thighs. You could feel his cock straining against his jeans, rubbing over your oversensitive clit in the best way possible. A whimper left your mouth as you started to rock on him, but Kun stilled your hips. His hand slid to your chin, rubbing his thumb along the side of your jaw.

"Can I kiss you?" You didn't bother answering, meeting him halfway. His chapped lips moved against your own as if you've done it before, there was a familiarity to it that made you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him flush against your chest. Sliding his hands up and down your body, lips moving in sync against yours. You nipped at his lip, causing a loud groan to leave his mouth as he opened it for you. Sliding your tongue into his mouth you reveled in the feeling of him taking dominance. His hands gripping your ass tightly, his tongue roughly dancing with yours.

You pulled away, placing your hips on his shoulders as you continued to grind against him. Another groan leaving his mouth as he moved you against him, forcing you to press down harder and faster against him.

"God baby." He leaned back as he looked at you, admiring the way you moved against him, needy and wanting to cum again. "You're so need baby. Who's got you like this hm?" You dropped your head back, continuing to rock your hips against his. Kun felt his cock twitching in his pants at the sight, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you close to him, placing kisses along your neck and collarbones.

"Kun I need you." You tried to sound strict but it came breathy, a moan following it as he kisses over your jugular, nipping at it before listening to your 'command'. Flipping you over he gave you a peck, before pulling away to take off his clothes. You decided to join him stripping out of your shirt and throwing it across the room.

Kun crawled back over you, but he stopped just taking the time to stare at you.

"I need to say this before. I'm not just fucking you because of your insomnia, I'm not just fucking you to fuck you." Kun intertwined your fingers, "I really like you. I don't want this to just not mean anything to you, when I really like you. Even thought we're doing this backward I hope you can at least think of going on a date with me." You felt your face heat up, and the familiar feeling of fluttering in your stomach at his confession. Placing your hand on his cheek you leaned up, placing a quick kiss on his lips.

"I like you too Kun. More than I can put words to." A big smile spread across his face as he leaned down, showering your face with kisses. "But if you don't put your dick in me right now, you might not ever get that date." A laugh left his mouth as he placed one last kiss against your check, before grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it up and down your cunt. Collecting some of your juices over his tips he looked down as he pressed into you, muttering a fuck at the sight of you taking him in so well. You threw your head back feeling the fuzziness come back, feeling how well he slid into you.

When Kun bottomed out he placed your still intertwined hands on the pillow beside you, his other hand sliding back to your hip.

"Fuck you feel so good." He growled as he waited for you to adjust, feeling your tight walls practically sucking him in.

"Please move. Please I need you." Kun placed a gentle kiss on your pouty lips before pulling. Thrusting back into you he set a slow pace, being gentle with you not forgetting that you were still on bed rest. Your other arm wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer to him. Feeling skin against skin as he continued to slowly fuck you, enjoying the feeling of him being close to you.

It was more intimate than it should've been, being the first time that you two were having sex but with Kun it felt right. This was more love making than casual fucking and you wouldn't have it any other way. The coil in your stomach started to tighten, Kun's groans helping greatly to push you towards the edge, but the pace he had set wasn't doing it for you.

"Kun." He slowed down, hearing the desperation in your voice and not wanting to hurt you.

"Yes baby? Am I hurting you?" You could hear the slight panic in his voice and shook your head, before meeting his eyes.

"Faster please. I need you rougher." Kun pushed your hair back, before cupping your cheek.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you, you were just hospitalized."

"Please fuck me harder. I need you to ruin me daddy." At your words Kun's eyes darkened and without warning he thrust into you hard, causing a punched out moan to leave your mouth.

The mood changed just the way you needed it to, instead of being slow love sex Kun was fucking you. Hips meeting during every perfectly timed thrust, hitting deep within you as the sound of his balls smacking against your ass filled the room. He let go of your hand, instead opting to grab your waist and pulled you to meet him halfway on every thrust.

Ceaseless moans leaving your lips at the feeling of him fucking into you so beautifully, filling every inch of you. Opening your eyes that hadn't even realized had closed you were met by the sight of Kun, sweat glistening over his abs and dripping down his face. His hair plastered to his forehead, as he bit his lip harshly trying to hold back his groans. Your neighbors should really thank him for having some self control.

Kun slowed down as he lifted your legs up, pushing them towards your chest, folding you in half as he continued his rough pace. This new position causing you to feel him in your chest, the feeling of fullness completely overtaking you as you orgasmed for the second time. He fucked you through your orgasm, the tingly feeling spreading towards your hips as overstimulation set in. Even though his cock was dragging against your walls beautifully, blunt tip pressing into your g spot it started to get painful.

The feeling of it being too much, but not enough at the same time. Tears welling up in your eyes, as Kun pressed against your legs pushing them back further and forcing his cock impossibly deeper.

"F-fuck daddy please." You didn't even know what you were begging for anyway, him effectively fucking you dumb, his hands gripping your thighs tightly to the point where you knew you'd have bruises the next day.

"So tight around me, your pussy is sucking me in even after two orgasms? What's wrong baby? Two isn't enough, you need me to milk another one out of you?" You couldn't respond to him, only listened to him as he spoke, groans leaving his mouth harmonizing with your moans almost.

"Poor baby is fucked dumb," A cruel laugh left his mouth as he stuffed two fingers into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers, twirling your tongue around them. "Can't even speak, only babble and suck on my fingers huh? Lucky you're so cute. You liked being called dumb huh? Can feel the way you're pussy clenched around me? Must be close again." You could only let out a muted moan, Kun's fingers still pressed against your tongue, gagging you effectively.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth he slid his hand around your throat, tapping his too soaked fingers on the side of your neck.

"So close baby. So. fucking. close." Punctuating his words with an extra hard thrust in between you had lost the ability to think, his hand gently around your neck, more like an accessory but just at the thought of him choking you felt yourself drooling, his thrusts still reaching that spot inside of you that was so deep it'd never been touched before.

As if hearing your thoughts, Kun's hand tightened around your throat, pressing you against the mattress. You came at that moment, Kun's tip hitting your g spot perfectly. Your eyes rolled back as you felt like you had exploded, all of your energy draining out of you with your third orgasm of the night.

At the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly, practically holding you in place Kun pulled out and quickly jerked himself off, cumming over your lower stomach. Kun marveled at the sight of you laid out below him, lips swollen from biting them, hair frizzy from rubbing against the pillow, his white cum painting your stomach, a light red mark around your neck from his hand.

Kun let you sit for a couple minutes before carrying you to the bathroom for a well needed shower. Setting you on the toilet, he let you pee while he started the warm. When you were finished and the water was warm enough Kun helped you into the shower, letting you lean against him as he started to clean the cum from your body.

"Are you okay?" You looked up at Kun, basking in the feeling of the warm water running down your body as Kun rubbed the soapy loofa over your body.

"Never felt better." A crooked smile spread across your face, too tired to even continue the conversation. Kun kissed you on your temple , seemingly sensing it and helped you rinse out. After getting you redressed and back into your bed with clean sheets, Kun went to go to the living room until you grabbed his arm.

"Can you stay?" Even after having sex Kun was still nervous to sleep in the bed with you, but he obliged hearing your soft, sleepy voice. Climbing into bed with you he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

"Thank you." Kun hummed, the vibration spreading through his chest and making you giggle.

"For?"

"Taking care of me." Kun placed another kiss on your head.

"You don't have to thank me. I wanted to care for you. Now get some sleep." Cuddling further into Kun, the beat of his heart along with the rise and fall of his chest lulled you to sleep.

For the first time in years, you slept like a baby.

[yanderenightmare]

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

PUNISHMENTS

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goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, abuse, anxiety, blood, guilt, mind control, NONCON/DUBCON, self-harm, slavery, starvation, isolation, torture, violence

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

Her fear is much too satisfying to ever feel the need to actually hurt her. He’s still a sadist, don’t get me wrong, however laying off the physical pain and preying on the emotional side of things. 

I can take and do whatever I fucking want with you, whenever I want, and you can do nothing to stop me, Pumpkin.

However, his temper will always get the best of him despite him constantly fighting against it. The sad truth is, he doesn’t want to hurt her, he really doesn’t, but a lack of self-control is something that will always burden Katsuki. Where ignoring his building frustrations only get the best of him in the end. 

Do you think I want to hurt you?! Well, I don’t! I fucking hate it!

He will stick to threatening for the most part, discouraging bad behavior as it arises. Seemingly unaffected by most of it, given his paramount strength in contrast to his darling, he manages to ignore most of her transgressions and settle for simply ridiculing her pathetic efforts, and doing so with perverted delight. His cock growing heavy and warm at the feel of her meek struggles. In short words: refusal will be met with salacious mockery. 

Watcha gonna do about it, princess? 

You’re such a crybaby! 

I’d think again, if I were you, sweetheart. 

So cute, so hopelessly adorable, good thing you’re all mine.

Words will set him off faster than actions. Tell him she hates him, she’ll soon be preaching otherwise, his cock pounding her into a silly hot wet cross-eyed mess, feeling foolish for ever even humoring the idea of retaliating. 

What the fuck did you just say, slut? Say that again, I beg you. You’ll regret it, bitch.

Katsuki’s tolerance for unwanted behavior all depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s in a nasty mood, where he might just steer his darling into making a bad decision only to give him an excuse to punish her. These will be light punishments, sexual more times than most. He’ll have her bent over his lap, slapping the bare soft plump flesh of her ass again and again until she’s convincing enough in her apology. 

Who owns this ass? Say my name! That’s right, you freak. Mine.

However, other times the smallest thing can set him off, and certainly not in any good way. He’ll be fuming, flames licking up and about his arms, crackles of hellbent fire mingling with his maniacal cackles. She’ll be lucky to come out with minor burns. 

Time to learn your fucking lesson. Time for you to understand who here’s in charge.

However, the times where he’s silent, those times where he’s tired and fed up, those are the times she should really fear. Where he’ll be taunting like some haunting ghost, playing with her, perhaps opening the locked outer-door only to find satisfaction in hunting her down and dragging her back to do it all over again. 

I’ll give you a reason to cry. 

Continue to scream, and I’ll do it again.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi doesn’t ever need to punish his darling too severely because his presence is an intimidating enough detergent on its own, encouraging her to stay away from doing anything too reckless. He looks like the onset of death, it’s only logical for her to think he might be as well. 

Waddya look so scared for, Doll? I haven’t even done anything yet.

However, he won’t shy away from making it clear who’s in charge, something of which he’ll do from the get-go. But again, the fact is in-mistakeable whence he’s large and lanky form towers over her, smiling that crooked grin that have his skin stretching in stiches and staples. Leathery fingers brushing over sensitive areas, cyan eyes intently watching her every move. 

That’s right, Babygirl, you know your place. Don’t make me remind you.

Besides he’ll sprinkle a couple path-keeping scares here and there, as in: he’ll correct behavior while she’s committing the crime and prove how idiotic her reluctance really is. Seeing how he’s much larger and much stronger than her, fighting truly is futile. He’ll make it clear she’s being foolish, lacing his words with condescension as he scolds her as though she were a child, while making her bounce up and down the length of his cock. 

Silly little doll, thinks she has an actual fighting chance. You’re adorable, Pumpkin.

For the most part he’ll just ignore when she refuses him or fights him, it’s not like her pathetic struggles can do anything to stop him. In fact, he quite enjoys it in some malicious sadistic sense. How her delicious little wiggles have trembles running pleasantly up his spine, nestling somewhere in the bulging tip of his cock. 

You’re so cute, begging like anything could get you out of this.

In some ways he’ll actually encourage misbehavior. Leaving her just enough freewill, just enough room to fight back, constantly egging her on and provoking her to retaliate either physically or verbally. 

Babydoll, so feisty today. Try that again, why dontcha?

As far as punishments actually go, they’ll never leave out the element of pleasure. Spanking is always fun, hearing her scream his name over and over until it leaves her wet lips like a broken cry. Whilst gifting as well as reprimanding her with thumbprint scorch-mark hearts never gets old either. 

Such a crybaby. Come one, cry some more for me, Angel.

Dabi is not the one to snap. He’s very calm, collected, reserved, calculating. Therefore, when his darling crosses the line, as in escapes, he’ll have punishments instore for her, punishments containing of her on her knees sucking his dick like her life is on the line, however… he’ll never go any farther. His darling is precious, he can’t have her getting damaged beyond repair. 

Let’s get you home, where you belong, Buttercup.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

Tomura will try to avoid threats and punishments altogether, knowing how his guilt will ultimately defeat the purpose of correcting his darling’s behavior. He wants to be happy when with his darling, and nothing but happy, but that won’t be possible if he serves as a constant reminder of dread to his darling with the display of fear ever so prominent and gut-wrenching in her eyes. 

Don’t look so scared when I’m around. I won’t hurt you.

However, that doesn’t mean he’ll resist his carnal desires. He will resist in hurting her when she tries to fend him off, but he’ll still bury his dick deep inside her and hold her down as he starts rocking his hips sharply into the underside of her thighs, the slap of skin on skin echoing in his barren room. 

You feel so good… just relax, I’ll make you feel good too.

He’ll lie more often than not as opposed to spouting threats. Promises upon promises, all bound to break. All in an effort to calm his darling down or to build some unstable trust in their relationship. 

I’m not gonna hurt you. 

You’re safe here.

He gets more annoyed than actually mad, her efforts mediocre against his lanky slender fingers wrapped tightly around her wrists. Giving mere half-hearted vocal corrections as he keeps her still for his cock to abuse. 

Give up already. 

Stop fighting. 

You’re only wasting your energy.

But… he walks on constant eggshells. He will try to ignore her unwanted retaliation to the best of his capability and reel in the reigns of his temper, but he’s prone to snap at some point, knowing there lies a dormant yearning to touch her in more vile ways than one. 

Careful now, don’t tempt me.

He’ll try to the very best of his efforts to be soft and understanding, not realizing before it’s too late that his actions only aided in watering the seeds of his darker desires, soon to be blooming with all hell breaking loose. 

I’m a monster? Who’s fucking fault is that?

He’s easily vexed. He doesn’t enjoy her crying and will try to make it stop immediately. Screaming is even worse, piercing his ears making him scratch at his neck frantically. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP! Stop, or I’ll give you a reason to cry.

But, the worst is when she runs. He’ll keep her locked in his room for the most part, but sometimes she’ll manage to sneak away and get lost in her attempt to find her way out of the compound he’s situated her in. He doesn’t enjoy any part of it. Running after her in empty rundown hallways like some monster in a horror-game. Catching her and hugging her close, dragging her back into his cold dark dreary room. 

Don’t even look at the door. I don’t want to feel like you’re trying to run away from me again. 

Wherever you go, I will find you, and bring you back… even if I have to drag you by your hair.

He’s a sore loser as well. He’s basically a child and will throw a temper tantrum when she beats him in a videogame. This will call for punishment, however he won’t call it that, he’ll call it another game, a game he knows she’s got no chance of winning. 

You think you can beat me? 

I’ll show you who’s boss.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Here’s one that rarely feels a need to punish his darling, mostly because he finds her struggles absolutely adorable when she’s trying to fend off either his mind-control or his scarf. 

How precious, Kitty thinks she has a choice. 

You’re so cute when you’re struggling.

But, she can choose to look at it as a punishment when he ties every inch of her body up in tight rope and spreads her thighs so far apart she doesn’t even have room to tremble when he slides his cockhead up and down the slick of the velvety folds on her exposed pussy. 

You’re such a pretty little thing, tied up like that, Kitten.

He will threaten her though, if only to see her squirm in discomfort beneath him. See her lips quiver as her mind reels upon his words, her eyes spiraling in complete chaos, not knowing what to expect. 

Pussy on a platter, where should I start? I love playing with my food.

Not much can actually anger him, but silence, cold-dreaded pin-drop deafening silence that racks at his mind, that can really bring out the eerie viciousness dwelling inside him. 

Kitty, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer. 

Remember the last time you didn’t listen to me?

His lessons leaving her psyche crumbling in their wake. Fucked completely silly, his words rummaging through her mind, ordering her to cum again and again and again and one more time for master. 

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re begging for me to take control. 

Let me show you what happens to little kittens who don’t follow the rules.

True punishments will lack all forms of fun, coming in the form of utter solitude. He knows how ferally and how painfully deep loneliness bites. He’ll leave her alone for days if not weeks in complete abandonment, starving her at times, simply waiting for as long as it takes before she comes crawling back to him. 

You must be truly desperate to come to me for comfort, Kitten. I was beginning to think you were incapable of learning.

Saying the wrong thing will also set him off, even more so than silence. He loves noise. She can call him anything, yell and scream and cry until her lungs feel like they’re bleeding, and he won’t mind, but… call him a villain… don’t be surprised when he acts like one. 

People warned you about me, didn’t they? Calling me a villain. Should’ve listened… look where you are now.

She never even saw it coming, him and his large hands, how easily they could bruise and choke and scar when truly motivated. 

What? You thought you were gonna get away with that? Think again.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Keigo deals out punishment as he sees fit. He’ll punish the crime when it’s being committed. Crimes ranging from ignoring him to saying the wrong thing to saying the right thing with the wrong attitude. But when the punishment is dealt, he’ll forget the whole ordeal ever happened, never dwelling on the past, never holding a grudge and always, constantly talking about the future. 

I really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? You’re so pretty when you smile. 

I love you, Dove. Just let me love you and perhaps you’ll learn how to love me too someday.

He will grow frustrated and impatient though, and that aggression will bubble up and escape his grip on it at times. But, he’ll yell more than anything, yell and cry and kiss and lick and slobber all over her, pinning her wrists to her sides and hugging her with his massive wings, suffocating her in crimson. 

Say you love me. Would that be so hard? I just need you to say you love me. Just pretend, only for a little while. Please, Dove.

He’ll humor other forms of making her more lenient. He’ll wash her hair, message her, carry or fly her places, even though she recoils back and flinches with every touch his calloused fingertips adorn her silky-smooth body with. 

Maybe branding you will help.

He has this theory that sex will bring them closer and excuses his advances with this belief each time she starts sobbing when he pries her legs open to plant his sloppy warm worming tongue between them. 

I can make you feel so good, Dove, you just gotta let me. 

Don't be so difficult, I'm doing this for you!

His real violent nature lies dormant however. It’ll only come out when she crosses the line of trying to leave him. His wings will turn razor-sharp and she’ll catch herself in the heat of her regret, missing the time he would wrap them around her ever so softly and cry into her chest. Now, he’s baring his teeth, feathers coming to slice through her skin as a punishment of a million cuts. 

What’s wrong with you!? 

Don’t you dare fucking try it, you know you can’t outrun me.

He’ll feel really bad afterwards, cleaning every wound, embalming them with cooling salves, kiss and apologize for each and every one, but on the inside, he can feel the crawling feeling of contentment linger. Seeing her so catatonically compliant is refreshing and such a well-needed break form the exhaustion of fighting all the time. 

I���m so sorry, Angel. I love you so much. You know that, right?

She barely flinches when he decides to get in the bath with her, and when he comes to message the anxiety from out of her back he can feel the slight shift of her leaning into the touch. His protective mode fades as he holds her close, and the pure earth-shattering woeful relief comes wafting over the residue of his fear of losing her, leaving him in a fit of rather ugly sobbing. 

Nothing. Without you, Angel, I’m nothing.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Izuku acts oblivious to undesired behavior and retaliation. He will very much be aware of it all, yet he believes making her feel safe is paramount. So, he’ll forgive all her nasty words, and respect her wish to keep the intimacy to a minimum. In fact, the only time he sees her completely naked is in the bath, where he actually lets her do most of her own washing. 

You’re safe here, Darling.

Other than that, he’ll coo and explain as much as he sees fit when she asks her bitter questions, however… there will always be the slight irking presence of self-righteous condescension. 

Cruel, terrible people live out there, Sweetie, people who want to hurt you. 

You’re lucky I’m so nice. Anyone else would’ve taken advantage of you and done something horrible, by now.

Although Izuku is a patient guy, he can easily see when something isn’t progressing. Good thing he has plenty of methods to make things go his way. While making her feel safe was plan A, Plan B is not as forgiving. If a soft touch isn’t to her liking, then perhaps a firm touch is what she needs. 

I know it hurts, Honey, but that’s what happens when you don’t do as I say.

She’ll wake up with her wrists and ankles tied snuggly together, face in the pillow and her exposed tender tight little pussy raised to the high skies, all for Izuku to touch and feel and suck on. 

Be good for me, Baby. We wouldn’t want to see those tears again, now would we?

He’ll be cooing her all the while when she cries out for him to stop, as well as landing a sharp painful blood-curdling smack against the plump dome of ass nudged up and pressing against his throbbing cock. 

I think this is what we needed, Baby, for both of us to be reminded of who’s in charge.

He’s far from ever causing her any real pain though, settling for claiming her tight little hole again and again until she eventually understands where she belongs and who she belongs with, or to. 

That’s right, Honey. I love you, you don't need anything or anyone but me.

He will eerily threaten her when finding her doing something not to his liking. For example: picking at the locks on her handcuffs when he leaves the room. 

What do you think you’re doing, Sweetie? 

Give up, Honey. 

I’m gonna count to three, Sweetheart.

However, with the sheer strength and adept abilities Izuku is in possession of, he can never truly feel threatened by his darling, and a fear of her leaving fades more and more when he proves time and time again how very impossible it is for her to ever manage such a thing. He’s good at assuring himself she’ll never leave, and therefor he should only spend time making those good memories instead of those foul ones. 

No need to be scared, Sweetie. I’m gonna take good care of you, like I always do.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

Kai is larger than life when it comes to threats. He puts all his assets into making them clear. Godly golden orbs and hellishly black pupils staring menacingly down into her swirling glossy puppy-dog eyes. Fingers digging manicured talons into her soft and tender cheeks, the feeling of buzzing on his fingertips, threatening to dissolve what found beneath them. Words spoken like the eerie calm found in the massive dark of fog-strewn forests. 

I shouldn’t have to repeat myself, Darling. Say you’re sorry, and perhaps I’ll forgive you.

Kai will threaten and promise his darling a life of pain is she ever to disobey him, however… he’s all bark and no bite, never having the heart to follow through on his promises. Not after seeing how sorry she is. Seeing the look of utter tearful fear in her eyes, he cannot help but think that there can be no harm in forgiving her. 

You’re the only person I’d make an exception for. 

Count yourself lucky. I won’t be as forgiving next time you decide to misbehave.

He soon comes to the conclusion, or comforts himself with the thought, that due to his darlings chaotic and clumsy nature, she’s in fact incapable of following his restrictions. 

Such a clumsy mess you are, Darling. Unable to follow the simplest of commands.

Besides, he’s come to find her forgetfulness quite endearing, understanding or choosing to believe that she doesn’t disobey to spite him. If anything, it’s a constant reminder of how in need she is of his protection. 

Such a hopeless fragile little thing. How grateful you must be to have me to protect you from your own mishaps.

Chisaki will threaten first of all, biting his own tongue when the time comes to follow through on said threats after never seeing a proper lasting change in obedience in his darling’s behavior. He always tells himself that her actions should be reprimanded sooner rather than later, but those large eyes and that frail body he uses to warm himself each night has a way of strumming his heartstrings. 

Please don’t do anything to upset me, Darling. The mess wouldn’t be good for either of us.

He does have his limits though. She crosses the line when she ends up hurting herself with her clumsiness. Tripping when running away from him, falling out the window when trying to escape, cutting herself when throwing broken shards of glass his way, getting dirt and all sorts of bacteria to infect her wounds. 

Look what you’ve done now, Darling.

He figures his quirk is the only safe measure there is to correct his darling’s behavior. Safe to pull her apart and safe to put her back together again, and again and again and again with little sympathy battling his fascination. 

Run, cry, scream; you’re simply dancing in the palm of my hand. You only have yourself to blame.

TODOROKO SHOTO

Shoto doesn’t view his darling as something to control, at least not on a regular basis. And because of this, he doesn’t see punishment, in its term, as something he has a right to exert on his darling when she fights back. He doesn’t view himself as a master correcting his pet. Admiring her efforts over feeling vexation because of them. 

So much life in you, little one.

Freewill and passion he’ll put no chains on, but pain, however, is no unfamiliar pastime for his darling nonetheless. Shoto views pain as a pleasure, as a luxury, as a lifeline. 

Don’t think of it as a punishment, Snowflake, it’s more a lesson of appreciation. You’ll thank me later, I’m sure.

When his darling is being particularly impossible, he’ll blame himself over her, knowing how it’s his fault that he can’t properly please her. Figuring more of his attention and care is in order of need, something of which he will happily oblige her with. 

Is my little blizzard feeling lonely?

He’ll have her over his lap in no time, exchanging what fingers on what hand he uses when tickling the soft sensitive spot found between her thighs, going from hot to cold and steamy and feverish. 

Is this what you wanted, Snowball? All you needed is ask. I’ll give you what you need.

But, during their more unorthodox sessions, Shoto is strict. He has to be, in order to give them both what they supposedly need. Shoto believes his darling needs his firm hand as much as his soft touch, she needs balance, whereas he needs someone to apply his balance to. 

Be a good little firecracker for me and hold still.

However, he still doesn’t view it as punishment per se. He believes his darling is asking for the applied pain when disobeying his commands, therefore the pain is something she wants more of, something she’s begging for. 

Don’t move, Crystal. 

My little snowstorm, I told you. Don’t move…

He can get angry however. Not by words, knowing how many times he screamed at his father in the fit of his rage, never genuinely meaning any of the spiteful words he’d say, he knows his darling doesn’t mean anything by them either. 

It’s okay, Wildfire. You’re just frustrated. Let me help you.

But escape… escape is a fragile topic and any attempts on achieving it will be met with stone-cold nonchalant wrath. Safe to say she won’t ever try leaving him again, not if she wants more of those irredeemable frostbite burns across her soft skin. 

You think you know pain? I’ll make you long for something as sweet as pain.

Shoto doesn’t easily forgive. He doesn’t easily forget. He doesn’t easily cope at all in any healthy way. And he definitely doesn’t easily trust after being betrayed. He might just do something brash in his strive to feel comfortable again, or else the prickling feeling of uncertainty will linger about beneath his skin. Paranoia is a better word for it. 

You think you can just up and leave? Think again, Snowball. 

You’re not going anywhere. Nowhere without me. I’ll have you crippled before that happens. Mark my words, Icicle.

His flexibility regarding the amount of freewill his darling possessed will change drastically after his trust is broken. Chains are a great reassurance he’s come to find, and if she ever finds a way out of those as well… bones will break. 

I didn’t want this, Snowfall, but… I must say… you do look your best when you’re at my mercy.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

[babylooneytoonz]

a little bit of you, a little bit of me

— pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

— summary: Tommy and you had a one night stand right when Tommy was 18 and you were 17 and you fell pregnant with a baby girl- but wanted to convince your husband it’s his- so Tommy grew up seeing his daughter every day grow up in the street and with her other dad. And on her eighteenth birthday she comes into the garrison for a drink with a purpose to meet Tommy.

This is requested by an anonymous, although the request was slightly different, I have modified it a bit and I hope you like it.🤍

A/N- I just modified it a bit because I am really not good with the timelines so there might a slight difference in the age . Let's just assume this is set in 1908 which I suppose is when Tommy would be 18? and then later in 1926 when Grace had been shot and all [end of season 3 - beginning season 4] I'm not sure and my math sucks please correct me but I think Tommy was born in 1890 or something I could be seriously wrong though.

— warnings: mentions of extra marrital relationship, trigger warnings, unplanned pregnancy , a lot of angst (Please do not read if you're not comfortable, thank you.)

*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost or claim my work as yours.

[My Masterlist]

You were only seventeen when your parents succumbed to bankruptcy and disease, leaving you an orphan, an only child; but not without ensuring that you were married off to a young man. You weren't in love with him, or with anyone else, and thus, it was easy for you to accept.

With the war not yet begun, you and your husband moved to Birmingham City, hoping to find yourself a place to live at half the rent as compared to London.

And it was during that time, when you met Tommy Shelby, a young lad who lived four houses away from yours.

It was innocent at first, just a glance through the window, or a mindless bump against each other on the road which then developed into greetings and then smiles until finally, one day, when you found yourself sat by the docks late one evening, shielded by unwanted, prying eyes with Tommy Shelby next to you, talking about life in general.

You opened up, telling him about how you were never lucky enough to find someone to love, and to marry for love. Although you had utmost respect for your husband, you couldn't bring yourself to love him, yet. But it wasn't all sad talks.

Sometime, in between the morose and sad revelations, a lighter topic broke out, and they two of you began talking of your favourite pass times, your hobbies and the most embarassing moments of your life.

"Don't you have to go back home, [Y/N]? Isn't someone bloody waiting back home?" Tommy raised an eyebrow, his eyes glistening with amusement and you snorted, pressing your index finger into his chest playfully as you pushed yourself up.

"So, Tommy, what are we friends now?" You remembered smirking, the corners of your plump lips curving into a devilish grin as you stood up, wiping the back of your skirt with your palm.

"Do you want us to be?" He smirked back, and reached forward trying to grab the hem of your skirt, but you dodged, biting your lip as you shook your head, running your hand through your hair.

"Friends don't grab a lady's skirt, Mr. Shelby," you curled your lips teasingly, and taking Tommy by surprise, your fingers slid through his matted hair ruffling them up, before you darted off, the sound of your running the only voice audible to Tommy as he kept sitting by the docks, grinning.

That was only the beginning; and the flirt only rose after that, it didn't die down, no matter how much you knew it was wrong. You couldn't help yourself be attracted to him.

"[Y/N], are you going out, eh?"

You stopped, mid steps, your coat halfway through your arms as you slowly turned around and gave your husband a nervous smile.

"We're out of bread, and tomatoes, and eggs. I thought I'd stock up for two days." You looked at him, glancing at him through your fluttering eyelids, and he simply nodded, pulling a lit cigarette up to his lips, "Don't be gone long, love. It's going to get dark outside."

You grabbed your purse, and fixing your hair with your hands, you pulled open the front door and ran out of your home. You looked left, and right before you crossed the road to the other side and slid through a cramped alley, ducking underneath the clothes that were hanging to dry off from ropes.

Finally, Tommy was in sight.

His hair were disheveled, and his shirt had dust stains on it but you didn't mind; he was perfect in your eyes. You smiled, parting your lips, your tongue sliding out of your mouth as you moistened your lower lip. Your walking turned to running, and the next second, you were standing chest to chest with him, his hand fixed on the low of your back, holding you against him.

"You—"

"Don't, Tommy. Don't make me change my bloody mind," you whispered immediately, cutting him off.

His palm came to rest on your cheek, his thumb stroking against your supple flesh, his blues fixed on yours. You could see the ocean in your eyes, and although you were guilty in that moment for willingly be ready to give yourself to this boy, your guilt was far less than the feelings your heart held for him.

"This one time, Tommy—" you whispered, placing your palm against the fabric of his dusty shirt and balling it into your fist, pulling him closer, you blinked, giving him a nod.

It all flew by in a buzz then. One moment, the two of you were laughing like little kids, chasing after a butterfly, your hand entwined in his, as the two of you ran through the alleys one after the other. Tommy pulled you into one of the structures, made out of bright red brick walls, until he shut the door and pressed you against it, both his hands gripping your neck, his lips pressed to you.

Kisses, moans and gasps. Feelings, passion and unshed tears.

"Can you leave him for me?" Tommy whispered against your ear as he undressed you slowly, his fingers sliding over your bare velvet like skin, making heat and current radiate all through you.

Amongst moans and archs of of pleasure, the crowning and the curling of your toes and Tommy showed you the stars, as he filled you up completely, you moving in sync with him, like dancing to a slow song, you couldn't help but wish.. that maybe you had met him a few months back.

"You know I can't. It's too late now.." Would things have been different then? Would he have married you and then left for war?

"I know love, I know. I'm sorry I didn't find you before." He moaned into your ear, his fingers tracing your spine.

"Tommy.." You threw your head back, your fingers tightly clutching the sweaty boy's head in front of you, as you felt him teasingly bite you on the nape of your neck, all the while, his movements now becoming sloppier inside of you, and the two of you came, and collapsed in each other's arms.

The two of you remained entwined in each other, holding on to each other like either of you would slip into the sands of time. Finally, Tommy's hold on you relaxed, and he brought his fingers to your face, stroking through your sweaty hair, that were sticking to your face.

"This is goodbye then, love?"

You looked up at him, your eyes shriveled with unshed tears, and inexplicable emotions as you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, "I will still see you, only the world will never know. Maybe someday.."

Tommy was true to his words, and he never let anyone find out, about that one slip of the moment the two of you had shared, that had led to the creation of the light of your life.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks flew by, turning into months and Tommy watched you from afar as you walked down the street with a friend of yours whose name was Greta. Your head hung low, your stomach bloomed and swollen, the glow on your face bright enough to compete with the brightness of the sun. He was happy for you. You deserved to be happy, and he was okay, even if it wasn't with him.

Upon seeing you with a smile on your radiant face as you entered the bakery, Tommy could not control himself, something that he had been doing for months now at the sight of you. He pushed open the bakery door, with a tiny jingle of the bell, and that caused you to turn towards the door, your eyes immediately widening at the sight of him.

He kept his eyes fixed on you for a second before he looked away, and fixed himself on the counter right next to you, as he began looking around, looking for anything he could buy and not be suspected.

You pulled the coins out of your purse and handed them to the bakery owner, and with one glance at him, nodding in courtesy, you turned away, hurriedly walking out of it. Your steps were fast, as fast a six months pregnant young lady could walk and thus, it was easy for Tommy to catch up to you.

"Greta," you looked at your friend, your eyes widened, and the girl next to you smiled.

"Go," she whispered and looked around, just to see if there were any prying eyes that were looking at the two of you.

You slowly stepped into the alley, and Tommy followed until he had you in a corner, and his eyes fell to your stomach. You parted your lips but all that came out was thin air.

"I'm sorry, love. I couldn't bloody keep myself away from you. You look beautiful."

You gave him a tiny, lingering smile, fluttering your lashes as you looked down at your belly and then back at him, "Liar. I feel humongous."

"You're a sight for my sore eyes, love," his words were breaking you down, piece by piece. The wall that you had created, the thin wall of what was right and what was wrong was slowly crumbling down again. Your lips ached, your body ached, for his touch, once again. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, you opened your eyes again, and with a finality, you said, "Find yourself a nice girl, Tom. I want you to be happy."

A woman he did find. As time flew by, Tommy did find love again in your best friend, Greta Jurossi, and you were happy for them. You lay in your bed, your sheets coiled over you, covering up your modesty as the midwife examined you. Waves of pain flushed through you, causing you to ball the fabric of the bedding and the towels and let out cries of anguish. Your husband was downstairs, walking up and down; his shoulders tense, listening to your cries of pain.

After fourteen hours, you finally held your little black haired girl to your chest. Your heart filled with unconditional love; as you kissed the mass of her hair, you realised you couldn't love anyone else like you loved this girl.

Tommy held Greta's hand as the two of them entered their spot under the bridge. He pushed her to the wall, keeping a hand at the back of her head so she didn't hit it against the wall as he kissed her and finally made love to her.

"Why do you look like you've seen a bloody ghost, love?" Tommy's eyebrows perked up, as he pulled out a cigarette and flicked it to his lips, lighting it with a match.

"Not a ghost, Tommy, it's just that Marigold keeps us up all night long, she is such a fussy babe," Greta sighed, smiling softly when the image of your baby girl flashed infront of her eyes. She was in love with that little angel, but she knew she was Tommy's, you had told her this as you were her bestfriend. She looked down at her hands momentarily before looking up at Tommy, pursing her lips. She knew this man, and you, better than anyone in the world and she could read your faces like a book.

"Sometimes, I wonder," she hopped off the place she was seated at, pulling her skirts properly at place before she bent down as pulled up her stockings. Tommy took a drag of the cigarette and flicked it away, stepping on it, "What would have been if she would have left him."

"She made her decision, Greta, and I respect it," Tommy called out and she flinched, slowly turning towards him, chewing on the insides of her cheeks.

"Still, it's tragic, isn't it? Watching her everyday and knowing she can never be yours?" She whispered.

"I've made my peace with it." Tommy grumbled, under his breath, shaking his head as he threw his hand towards her and she accepted, entwining their fingers together as he pulled her into him.

"She made me swear something, but I can't keep it inside me anymore. This secret.. I feel like you deserve to know. Will you keep it?" Greta suddenly stopped walking and turned towards him, placing her hand delicately over his chest, and giving it a soft stroke.

"What is it, love?" He asked, his voice husky, and low. He kept his eyes fixed on her, like fireflies drawn to a source of light, that light being the impassivity of her words.

"Marigold is yours, Tommy. She's your daughter. She's got your eyes, and that sweet little smile."

Tommy parted his lips, as if wanting to say something, just anything but he felt like someone had choked him. He couldn't speak. No words flew out of his plump, trembling lips. Waves of anxiety suddenly flushed through him, and he clenched his fists, drawing his hands away from her as a gnawing emptiness filled him up.

Nothing felt worse than the bitter, aching slice his heart felt; as though someone had shot him through his heart, and the bullet was now lodged through. Yet he couldn't bring himself to hate you, although you had never told him, not once in these nine or so months that the baby you were carrying was his.

He laid back down, his head resting against the hard pillow. His mind was intoxicated, his thinking fuzzy yet he couldn't throw out the anguish he was feeling, no matter how hard he tried. The girl he had grown to love, the girl who had pulled him out of the feelings he had for you, the girl who had breathed life into his cold heart once again, the girl he wanted to marry, destiny snatched her away from him like a joke. Was he cursed to not be with the one his heart desired the most?

With a heavy heart, and a tormented soul, Thomas Shelby and his brothers left for war.

The war lasted for years, and so did Tommy, and every single time he felt like death was lurking close by, it never really touched him. When war was over, Tommy Shelby returned a different man, a man with a hollow heart, mind tormented completely differently now. He could hear the shovels in his mind, the clawing of metal against metal. He returned from war, and so did your husband and as the years passed, Tommy watched his daughter grow up, from a young little petal into a full blooming flower, and he never said a word. It was like a silent promise made to you, to protect your honour, something he had sworn with his life.

As the years passed, the hollow void left by you and by Greta slowly died down, and Tommy found himself a woman called Grace. She was enchanting, and she made Tommy feel whole again, complete again, although the shovels never stopped, no matter how hard he tried. Yet, Tommy didn't stop silently watching over the little girl that lived across the street, Marigold.

"Tommy, love?" Grace asked him one day, as she rolled over in bed, the sheets wrapped around her tiny frame and she laid her hand on his rising and falling chest, her fingers tenderly stroking his flesh, "Does that girl mean something to you? I've seen you look at her when she steps out with her mother out on the street, your face lights up."

Tommy didn't reply and instead buried his face into her side, letting himself get lost in her sweet fragrance, soaking him up. When he didn't answer, Grace didn't ask again, but the question remained at the back of her mind, until the day she left Tommy and went to London, breaking his heart all over again.

Just three months later, Tommy found himself standing at the back, his head hung low, staring at the wet soiled ground as your husband's coffin was lowered to the ground. You sniffled, your palm pressed to your lips, as you pulled Marigold closer to you, letting the thirteen year old child grieve, and cry her heart out as her father was lowered to the ground.

As the guests started dispersing, the two of you kept sitting in the front, on chairs that had been put out for you by someone kind. Tommy slowly walked up to you, hesitant and reluctant. Marigold was the first one to look up and Tommy felt his heart swell at the sight of her. It was like he was staring at himself, the same ocean like eyes, her hair just the same amount of dark like Tommy's were, the nose was, however, you and so were the lips. This was the first time Tommy felt he had seen her this close, and the more he saw her, the more he felt how she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes across.

You looked up then, and a faint, weak smile crossed your lips,"You came, Tommy? I never thought.."

"If you need anything, I'll always be here for you," that was the only words he could bring himself to say to you for he had by now, suffered so much, he had leaned to lock the young boy that had fallen in love with you, away in a corner. You watched, your eyes cloudy, as he left the cemetery, and you weeks later, left Birmingham, never to look back again.

1926,

The warm liquid rushed down the canal in Tommy's throat. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair messy and tumultuous, dark bags already forming under his eyes as he has been working mostly through the nights. Garrison was as usual, crowded but the Shelby room provided him with the solitude and the peace that he didn't find anywhere else.

It was just then when a knock resonated from the door and his head snapped upwards as Curly poked his head through.

"What's gone wrong now, Curly?" He said, dryly.

"Tommy, a young girl who goes by the name Marigold says she has some unfinished business with you?" He knew instantly who she was. He hesitated for a bit, his fists clenching slightly before he nodded, "Let her in and close the door, Curly."

Marigold bit her lip, yes she had a purpose to be here and yes, she had thought she had motivated herself enough to finally do this, yet one look at the man seated in front of her made her insides churn with nervousness. This was much difficult as it appeared to be.

"Take a seat, Miss.." Tommy pointed towards the empty couch in front of him and she nodded, absentmindedly sitting down with her hands now resting against her lap, "Marigold [Y/L/N]."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, regarding her through his cold, ocean like eyes, "You don't go by your father's name?"

Marigold didn't reply; instead she gave him a knowing smile and Tommy leaned forward, letting his elbows rest against the table, his hand absentmindedly grabbing his glass of whiskey, "Curly said you had some, eh, unfinished business?"

She nodded, her fingers toying nervously with other.

"Care to walk me home, Mr. Shelby? We can talk while we walk."

"Alright then," Tommy nodded as he stood up downing the drink in one go and began reaching for his coat, "I'll walk you home then," Tommy's eyes flickered as he waited for Marigold to walk out first, and once she did, he closed the door behind her and walked out of the Garrison.

Tommy couldn't describe the feeling; although there were no words, there was a warmth. Right next to him, his little girl, now not so little anymore, walked. Slowly, he craned his neck towards her as he pulled out a smoke and flung it to his lips, "How is your mother?"

"Growing old, that's her words, not mine."

Tommy smiled, looking up at the sky, his eyes fixing on the moon for a split second before he looked at her again, "I'm sure she is just exaggerating, yeah."

"Mr. Shelby, it mind sound like I am poking my bloody nose into your business, but I think I deserve to know. There was something between my mother and you once, wasn't there?" She suddenly asked, as blunt as a knife. She had the same fire burning in her eyes, like that in her real father's.

Tommy faltered upon hearing her words though, for he hadn't expected her to ask him this. He paused for a minute, looking at her with a perplexity, he wasn't sure how to answer her. She waited for a second and finally, reached out, grabbing the lit cigarette from his hand and flung it to her lips, taking a drag of it.

"Why would you think that ey?" Tommy blew out.

"Come on, Mr. Shelby, I'm not a little girl any more. I remember you at my father's funeral, the way you looked at my mother, even my dad didn't look at her that way. Come with me," Marigold suddenly grabbed Tommy's hand rather inappropriately if anyone was looking at the interaction and she began walking in a fast pace towards the building now right in front of her eyes.

"Hey, will you bloody slow down?" Tommy tried, but she was headstrong, and the grip of her on Tommy's hand was strong, although Tommy could pullout his hand in one jerk, yet he didn't. This felt personal and it somehow, warmed his heart.

Marigold finally came to pause, her hand letting Tommy's wrist go as her hand flung to her chest, and she began gasping like a fish for air, looking at Tommy.

"Now are you going to answer me? My mum's asleep upstairs by the way." The girl bit her lip, looking from Tommy, pointing her finger upwards, and Tommy realized that she had brought him to her house.

"Did your.. mother.. ever remarry?"

Tommy finally muttered, in a low voice although he had no bloody idea of whether he was ready to hear the answer or not.

"No, she didn't, Mr. Shelby." Tommy felt he could breathe again.

"Is that the unfinished business you wanted to talk about? Because its late and I don't want your mother worrying about you, Marigold," Tommy's eyes remained stoic, not a sign of emotion reflecting in his ice like radiant face. "Goodnight then," He turned away, letting his hands slide into the pockets of his coat when she called out from behind him, making him freeze on spot.

"I know you're my father, Mr. Shelby. That makes me Marigold Shelby, doesn't it?"

Tommy turned around, slow as a snail, and fixated his eyes on her. She had half the door open and she was leaning against it, her chin resting against the back of her hand with which she was holding the door and smiling.

"What did you say?" Tommy almost choked out, surprised.

"Aunt Greta left me some letters, for when I would turn eighteen. She left you some too, if you want?" She slid her hand into the pocket of her trench coat and pulled out a letter that still had a seal on it. Slowly, she extended her hand and Tommy looked from her to the letter, his hand trembling as he took it. It had Greta's signature on it. He blinked, an inner turmoil forming inside of him. Finally, he gave up, and handed the letter back to her.

"Won't you read it?" She asked, confused.

Tommy sighed, "It's better for the dead to stay dead."

"Christ, Marigold, what's gotten into you?" You frowned and watched your eighteen your old act like a five year old, her arms crossed against her chest, as she blinked, impatiently, "Mum, can you hurry up and get dressed? We are going to miss the 7 o'clock show."

"Alright, alright. I'm getting ready. Don't make a fuss, love."

Now, an hour later, you were stack in an almost empty movie hall, watching the black and white movie that Marigold was so interested in watching. And next to you on the right hand side was the man you had least expected to be there, Thomas Shelby.

"She planned this all, didn't she?" You whispered, leaning towards him. It was only days back Marigold had told you everything, especially about Greta's letters and you had been shocked. Now here he was, days after the revelation, and it couldn't have been a coincidence.

"You know I can't bloody say no to her. If it were up to you, I would have never known she was mine." Tommy whispered back, and you stiffened.

"Greta played a nice game," you drawled, absentmindedly turning towards Tommy, who was looking at you with a look of amusement in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're still beautiful. And look sixteen."

You flushed, your cheeks turning a scarlet red, and you were thankful you were in a dimly lit movie hall, and he couldn't really see. If amazed you, how almost nineteen years after you had ended things with Tommy Shelby, he still gave you butterflies, like you were eighteen again,"Jesus, Tommy stop. You're not eighteen anymore, and neither am I."

"Jesus, mum, dad, can the two of you please stop? I'm trying to watch something." The eighteen year old protested, but unbeknownst to the two of you, she had an amused, content smile playing against her lips, as she forced herself to look away.

You glanced at Tommy, and without uttering another word, you slowly sunk into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder, and your hand snuck into his, your fingers entwining with his.

If the two of you were eighteen and seventeen again, who would have thought that it would take losing Greta, and losing your husband to finally end up in Tommy's arms nineteen years later?

What made you smile, however was the fact that he was still the same; he still smelled the same like he did before the same lingering smell of burnt cigarettes and alcohol, mixed with a strong scent of musk; his hands were the same amount of calloused and warm, and your hands still fit perfectly into his. You were sure his lips would too, but maybe that was a thing for another time. You wanted to enjoy this night, watching the film, as a family of three.

Permanent Tommy Shelby Taglist:

@really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @baumarvel @captivatedbycillianmurphy @nyotamalfoy @peakyfooky @buckyxreader99 @theflamecrystal @milea

Want to be added? Please ask, message or comment.✨

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

Chapters 3-5 of The Passed Out Princess

Pairing: My CMC (Uyu, Dan Byeol) x Suit Saeran See all chapters

Description: On days 7-9 of Ray’s route, the player is denied food as “Saeran” makes his presence first known. But, what if MC fell very ill under this method of torture due to a medical condition? Sadly, my custom MC, Uyu (full name Dan Byeol), would deal with exactly this dilemma.

Warnings and notes found in chapter 1-2

Without taking a second to assess the situation, he began his tantrum, entering the room without even a knock out of courtesy.

“Finally getting what you wanted and you’re laying down on the bed as if nothing matters! You should be grateful I even thought to check up on you!”

The door shut behind him with a slam.

“Well then? Up. Get up, toy. I didn’t come all the way out here to watch you sleep!”

Saeran made his way over to the bed, almost in a stomping manner.

Uyu let out a small groan, attempting to pick herself up to look him in the eyes, disobeying one of his direct orders on purpose even now. With some shifts, she made her way to sitting up at the edge of the bed close to him with a slouch in her posture. Moving about to face him signaled her forehead to throb again, causing her to instinctively lift her hand to touch it beneath her bangs, a wince escaping her mouth.

“Is that all you’ve got to show me how much I’m making you suffer? Tch. Pathetic! You suck. Take more lessons from Zen while you’re chatting with him so damn much. Maybe he can at least teach you to cry on command for me. Didn’t you take theater classes before or something?”

The tall man in black towered over her as he spoke, icy eyes glaring at her through marshmallow colored fringe which fell over them in his lean forward. His lips curled into a wicked grin before he broke the awkward silence again.

“Well then...what would you like to refer to this issue as? Tell me. You must have weaved quite the story in preparation for my arrival. Out with it!”

Uyu mustered up some strength to mutter out a little of what he needed to know, embarrassed having to explain herself and call for his help when he appeared to be nothing but cruel to her.

He had shouted at her. He had shoved her a little. He had pinned her against a wall and trapped her like a wolf hunting a small, doe eyed rabbit.

And now, here she was teaching him about one of her medical conditions. Needless to say, she wished it possible to pretend it all wasn’t happening.

“..I have chronic low blood sugar. If...my hunger goes unchecked…..it just drops...my blood sugar I mean... and I get sick….it’s undocumented as there’s not much else doctors can do other than tell me to eat..”

Oh the shame.

“Pfft-”

Saeran cackled, loudly, higher in pitch, his voice reaching a part of his lungs that made it almost wheezy.

“Seriously? I hate how your list of problems is so long a fool might have believed you. You’re so damn weak. Say... I wonder...should today’s playtime be me dangling food in front of your face, then? Come on. Let’s get you to stand first, hmm? Then I’ll fetch you something sucky...like raw carrots...and you’ll hop for me like a pet bunny in desperation. I’ll even be so kind as to help you to your feet. What do you say, princess? Would you like that? A gentlemanly hand extended to you from your master?”

He reached down, pulling her hand away from her forehead and clasping it in his right, intertwining her small fingers with his long and slender ones. She shivered at his touch, him being so much colder than she was, as if his hand had been resting in a freezer while apart from her.

“...No...Saeran I might throw up again-”

“Sure you will~”, he cooed, bringing his face to hers.

“Where is that vomit, by the way? Did you oh so conveniently make it to the toilet so it’s all flushed away and gone? Haha...it’s hard to play with a toy who won’t even stand…so up! I’ll help you now, giving you that sweetness you oh so crave. On the count of three! One...two…”

Uyu shook her head as she attempted to pull back away from him, but her hand was still trapped in his firm grip, growing stronger as she attempted to resist.

“Three!”

Saeran gave her a jerk forward, the pull almost sending her to hit the ground before she caught herself on his arm.

“Wow! She did it! She stands! See that wasn’t so har-”

Dan felt the blood seem to rush out of her brain and downwards in a waterfall motion as that hot and cold chill returned. Her legs teetered as she lost balance, falling before grasping at him, ending up in his arms entirely, Saeran trying to avoid being knocked over himself. She let out a “brrr” noise as she shuttered, so dizzy the room felt as if it were doing somersaults and tumbles as it tossed her limp body around.

“Toy? Toy! What the hell kind of a stunt...”

Saeran pulled her away from him to get a better look at her as her head rolled to the side feebly. He held the woman out by her shoulders in front of him as if she were a little rag doll he wanted to shake back and forth to somehow bring life back into her.

“Start speaking to me! It’s not funny! You can quit the act now…stop doing that…”

His tone grew softer as the sound of a stiffness in the back of his throat made itself known, gulping as if swallowing a ball. He spoke again through gritted teeth.

“Not funny….I’m getting angrier….pull yourself together, toy…”

And with a little jostle from him, her guts felt a sudden whirl before a solid drop as did her head, the color black with spirals seizing her sight as she could no longer sort of keep herself upright. Saeran let go of her shoulders, feeling her whole weight lean in on him, catching her before she could fall.

Dan had finally blacked out cold exactly at noon, leaving Saeran alone, drowning in a sea of his own panic.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saeran held her close to him for a minute out of shock, his captivating eyes wide, stunned and not wanting to witness what he was responsible for. With Uyu completely slumped into him, he maneuvered his arms around her to allow her frail unconscious body to lean backwards. He didn’t want to believe he caused her to actually pass out, supporting her with his left arm and gently caressing her soft cheek with the back of his right hand.

A part of him feared he had caused the unthinkable.

He spoke in a strained whisper.

“Princess…?”

Not to his surprise, he received no reply, not even the slightest sign that she was faking. He huffed gently as his bottom lip began to quiver...his underlying worry that she wasn’t indeed fooling him appeared now true. He pulled her close to his chest again, his heart hammering against her as he cursed under his breath, thoughts racing so fast he felt a headache of his own coming on.

“Shit….”

Saeran went down onto his knees, still cradling her as her head rested in the crook of his neck, scooching her so she was sitting on his lap. His heart hurt...it physically hurt...a crushing squeezing pain that made him want to rip it from his chest entirely. It felt as if a rose bush had wrapped its way around it, winding an elaborate cage of thorns which pierced through like a million needles; the prettiest rose wilted in his hands because he couldn’t give it basic sunlight and water. The rose which bloomed within Ray’s heart...unlike Ray, Saeran wasn’t a nurturing gardener. Screaming at a flower for not growing into what you wished it to become will do nothing. Or...was it that the flower had already blossomed as he tried to force it closed, back into becoming a bud? Either way, he could now feel the dryness of its shriveled petals as his first tear spilled down his hot cheek.

“You don’t seem so tough now…..aren’t you supposed to be able to handle what I throw at you?”

He pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her floral conditioner he once insulted overwhelming his senses.

With heavy shame and panic, the built up water in his tear ducts came trickling down in little glistening, frequent streams upon his pale face. He shook like a leaf in the wind.

“...I did it. I defeated you. Damn you. This was supposed to be better….feel better. I was promised this was what I wanted...but you made it too easy. I hate a lack of challenge...”

He lifted his head before scooping her up bridal style, carrying her to the princess bed to lay her down somewhere comfortable. Upon her back with her hair partially sprawled out behind her, her position resembled that of sleeping beauty, the one who cursed her to sleep as well as the one who could save her life sharing the same body. Saeran’s kiss could not wake her as the one who made her prick her finger on that spinning wheel, and her prince charming was gone, banished away as he could not stand the cruelties of the dark castle’s dungeons. Or at least, that’s how he felt; that he was acting as the Maleficent of this long tale.

He stared at her for a while, breathing rapidly as his chest puffed up and down, bewildered, seething and puzzled as to why this all hurt him so. His savior promised knocking Dan down was the way to go...after all, she corrupted Ray, disobeyed the savior and caused Ray to do the same, made Ray have to be cleansed...she was no good for him; a liar and a manipulator. That’s what his savior told him, and she was never wrong, was she?

He tried to take her state in again as he watched her, drinking up her lifelessness, pushing himself to feel positive about it. It was a good thing. This was a good thing. The savior might even congratulate him for this. He might even receive praise for doing the opposite as Ray had done, feeding her well put together meals despite not even having the time to sleep. Or, would the savior scold him for besting her too early? After all, she was still essential to bringing down the RFA, as useless as he made her seem to be.

“Yes, that’s it,” he thought. He HAS to make sure she’s ok so she can carry out her job. But why did it seem like so much more than that as he felt a soreness seeing her hurt? He put his hands in his hair, tugging at the white messy tufts by the roots as he audibly panted, feeling himself being sent into a frenzy of angry and confused alarm. He gasped and shook as his eyes glazed over and color drained from his complexion, internally feeling a tug a war between his yearnings and what he had been told. A few broken “ahs” and whimpers left his open mouth as Saeran stumbled backwards, bumping his heel on the bedside table with a thunk. His tears would not cease.

It felt as if no matter how he rationalized what had just happened, matching it to his savior’s wishes and words she whispered into his ears, he couldn’t find it within himself to feel successful or triumphant in any manner. He whipped himself around to avoid looking at the passed out princess, his gaze meeting a vase with fresh flowers left by Ray which she slept beside every night. This room was so full of her...so full of him...so full of them and their time spent together. With a loud crash, he knocked it over, the smashed bits aligning the floor as the water lay in a puddle, the flowers undamaged, surrounded by the mess.

He chewed skin off his lip, leaving it pinker and salty in taste. To avoid his savior’s disapproval, for acting so weak and for making Dan so ill, Saeran decided it was best to handle the entirety of the situation on his own. He licked away the bead of red hot blood, brimming from where he bit off skin before collecting himself to a degree to clean up what he had done.

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a while, analyzing his features and making certain his emotions were concealed. He needed to hide his trembles and sobs if he were to re-enter the halls, wearing the iron mask of the strongest believer.

—————————————————————————————————-

Locking the door to keep Dan alone and safe, Saeran made his way around until he reached the place’s kitchen, keeping his head low to avoid the need to strike conversations or bark orders. The believers knew by now that his brisk walking and low hanging head meant no one was to disturb him, as he was probably doing something of importance for the savior. Same went for Ray, even. This made his trip rather quick and easy, even with the glances and stares he received in the halls. He paid no attention to the whispers which followed them.

“I’m hungry. Whip up something and make it fast. Doesn’t matter what as long as it’s got all the food groups and doesn’t taste like utter garbage.”

After Saeran commanded the Mint Eye chefs to get to work on a dish specially “for himself”, he pulled out his android phone to do a quick Google search on what might help with Uyu’s condition. From that he was able to piece together that candy and sugar can help provide immediate relief, for just a moment, as it would spike her blood sugars.

“Do we still have any candies around here? I want a few of those.”

“Yes Mr. Saeran sir...there are some mint candies and chocolates in the cabinet by your head…to the right. We got them recent-”

“No need to point it out and ramble. I know my way around the kitchen. Next time, just a simple yes unless I ask you to say more.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mint Eye was rather used to not seeing Saeran or Ray at meal times unless the savior requested him to attend and sit by her side, so to them, him taking his dinner to go was more normal.

He opened the white cupboard door, seeing numerous clear jars they’d set out on display during meal times. He shoved his hand into the chocolates first, taking it out empty then deciding to go for the mints, remembering “the little thing can’t have dairy.” Grabbing a solid handful of the sweet safe for her to eat, he shoved it all into the pockets of his dark suit, then leaning against the wall, eyeing the chefs at work.

As Saeran himself requested a meal, it was going to be elaborate and made by a whole team in an effort to please him, worry that a mistake could send them to be cleansed acting as a great motivator. Two people off to the right made small garlic potatoes while another two prepared a red wine sauce, to go with the steak a different believer was making. This did not include the last pair, which made stir fried vegetables, one cooking and one cutting.

The kitchen was quiet apart from the sounds of the sizzling, chopping, and stirring; Saeran swallowing saliva as his adam’s apple rolled up and then down, feeling the weight of the fear the room felt towards him. Many times, he saw that kitchens were depicted as being so loud and fun, full of life and chatter unlike this one. Saeran commanded authority and respect, yes, but none of these people would even dare say more than a yes sir no sir to him, let alone smile and act friendly. Would they even smile and talk if he wasn’t there? Or, was joy something this place had always lacked, him just now noticing because of the horribly confusing pit in his stomach at the moment? For the most part, he was on his own, the kindness he received from the savior being all he had to look forward to. And it was always enough for him, as the anxiety he provoked just being in the same room as the believers usually filled him with glee. But then...Ray found someone else who’d show him sweetness. A different kind of sweetness. One that would make his face hot to the touch and heart glow, as if he were under the bright blue sky getting a sunburn, sugary treats melting and dancing on his tongue with new flavors he just wasn’t used to. It was nerve racking and yet so energizing at the same time, something to look forward to as he snuck around to see Dan for so long. Saeran at least could say he found her words to be rather interesting, keeping him on his toes the brief time that they properly spoke together. And by brief...he meant three times. That dork passed out after they had only talked to each other three times.

He was used to the feeling of people trying to tear up his body and soul with their nails from the inside out...but not in the way she did. She at least spoke such honeyed words and phrases, sugar coated in such an unlike recipe as did the glaze which covered his savior’s. Even when telling him something harsh, Dan clarified that his best interest was always in her mind. Ray wished for more of this as he asked her to wreck his head outright. A foolish thing really. Or so Saeran was told.

“Umm...Mr. Saeran...your dish is ready.”

He picked up his stare from the floor to the believer now speaking to him as his train of thoughts were broken off. No matter how much of a display he tried to put on, his mind was somewhere else, somewhere it shouldn’t be. Thinking about someone it shouldn’t be.

“Yes, good. I’ll take the plate to my room as I’m very busy with my important work. Bring me some silverware and a napkin. And a water bottle. And cover the food so it stays warm.”

“Yes sir. For eternal paradise.”

“For eternal paradise..”

The kitchen staff said nothing to his face about the redness which surrounded his mint eyes and the tip of his nose, but behind his back was a different story.

Next chapters All chapters

[tooruluv]

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 3 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,210

warnings/notes: um yeah. this one moves fast, but this whole fic is basically about this one scene, this one part. so enjoy. no serious warnings, just strong language and some gay shit. angst.

tag list: @afuckingunicornn​

prev | next

“You’re... gay?” you whispered.

“It isn’t a fucking slur, you drunk ass.” Iwaizumi spoke, shoving you with his arm (making you hit your head on the door, but you barely noticed). “And I don’t know what exactly I am, but I just know it’s not straight.”

“Matsu?” you turned to the other boy. 

“I’ve been gay, and Iwa is sexy as fuck so who am I to deny his sexual awakening?”

It almost made you laugh.

It was hot in the closet. Dark. And you were squished in between two (very tall) men. A single light hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly.

“I uh,” You were so numb. You played with your sleeves. “I watched ‘Kawa make out with this girl. Stood there like an idiot and watched it happen. And it… it sucks to like know about it but to see it…to watch it happen…it’s way worse.”

“Oh,” They both said, sadness laced behind a whisper.

“You were going to tell him, weren’t you?” Matsukawa inquired.

You gasped, turning wide-eyed to Iwaizumi. He held his hands up in surrender. “You told him?” and “I didn’t tell him I swear!” coming out of both of you at once.

“I knew for, like, years now.” Matsukawa interrupted. “You’re the most obvious person ever, just so you know. You might as well be the fucking heart eye emoji whenever you look at him.” He paused to gauge your reaction, which was nothing. “Back to my question: you were going to tell him, weren’t you?”

“I..” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, I think so? I don’t know. I just know I really wanted to talk to him and see him and hear his voice. And I still do. But now my mind is full of him and the really pretty brown-haired girl exchanging spit.”

“Gross.”

“Maybe we should get out of the closet and get some air.”

The next morning, you woke up on the floor in the guest bedroom. Iwaizumi had taped a piece of paper to your forehead (“drink water” it said), and a blanket was wrapped around your upper body. You could not remember what happened after leaving the closet, how you ended up in the guest room, or why you were on the floor and not in the perfectly good bed above you.

But, nonetheless, you got up and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Where the fuck is Oikawa?

A loud thump interrupted your thoughts. Yup, there he was. You let out an annoyed groan as he decided to make the most noise possible on his way to the kitchen.

You pulled yourself onto the counter, wanting to slam your head against the cabinet. You never got hangovers, why was today the day you got one?

“Well don’t you look beautiful this fine morning.” Oikawa greeted, smiling.

He always looked his best in the morning, you thought. He may come across as perfect, but it makes your heart do flips when he comes in with bed head and his glasses on. Not to mention he looked absolutely gorgeous in the morning sunlight, beaming and bright.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” Your eyes were still closed.

You heard movement, a cabinet open then close, and only opened your eyes when he stood in front of you (in between your legs, no less). You held your breath.

“I look amazing, and you know it.” He was so close you could feel his breath. He brushed his teeth, the smell of mint circling you. Why was he so close?

He reached forward, pressing his hand to your forehead. Still half awake and clearly extremely hungover, you leaned into his touch as he moved his hands to your cheeks. His eyes scanned your face, but your eyes never moved from his.

His hands paused and stayed on your neck, just below your jaw. Hovering.

Unconsciously, you leaned forward. Only a little bit.

And he did too.

Your lips were so close. If you wanted to, you could kiss him. Just like that. A few centimeters away, and you could do what you’ve wanted to do for years. Feel what it would be like to be one of the many girls who had their lips against his. The air was so tense, so full of something you couldn’t explain. Just a few centimeters. Was he leaning in too?

He moved back.

“Medicine for your head, and you have a little bit of a fever so there’s something for that too.” Oikawa spoke. His voice sounded deeper, but maybe you were just thinking things. A small cough from him. He put pills into your hand. “You get something to drink. I’ll start picking up trash, you’re on…”

“Cups and cans duty.” You finished. It was always the routine. “Thank you.”

“Don’t slack off too much, you fucking drunk.” He joked, smiling at you with a trash bag in his hand.

You rolled your eyes at him, throwing the nearest empty can at him. You smiled, but your heart was aching.

The first time Oikawa had ever thrown a party, it was a disaster. 

People flooded the house, though it was only supposed to be a small get-together and ended up a huge banger. The school talked about it for a while. An increase in his popularity.

The two of you were left to pick up the mess. 

“Where the fuck do we start?” you asked, staring into the abyss that was once his living room.

“I’ll pick up the garbage and you pick up the cans and bottles?” Oikawa suggested. “If my mom finds any alcoholic beverage in this house she will pelt me with my own volleyballs.”

“I’ll help too.” Oikawa’s older brother said from the doorway, trashbag in hand. “Let’s get to work. We only have until six.”

Matsukawa soon joined your routine.

For the past month or so, Iwaizumi would eat lunch with you in the library as you studied for the entrance exams. Oikawa would join sometimes, or he would come right before lunch was over. He liked to eat lunch in the cafeteria, liked to “have that break from studies”. You two didn’t mind, you got more done without him distracting anyway.

Matsukawa had become your third-party during Lunch Study Dates. You didn’t complain, and you didn’t ask the two of them what exactly their relationship was. You joked with Iwaizumi that you were simply there to hide the fact they never stopped flirting. He would just laugh.

“Wait, you almost kissed?” Iwaizumi asked, studies long forgotten.

“I think so, yeah.” You kept your eyes on your paper. “It was weird, and the air was super heavy. And he hasn’t talked to me since. Not even while we were cleaning.”

“Not even a text?” Matsukawa asked.

“Not even a wave in the hallway.”

“Now that’s weird.”

“You’re telling me.” You finally looked up. “I.. Nothing has ever happened between us like that. Ever. And it was so out of nowhere, like, you would think our first almost kiss would be some cool moment or something. But it was just us, and I was hungover as fuck, and we just spent the rest of the afternoon in silence. And all that there has been since is just that. Silence.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Matsukawa reached over to place his hand over your wrist. “You know what. Tooru is an idiot. He is. I would have kissed you.”

“You’re gay.”

“And I would’ve kissed you. That’s the highest compliment you can receive. Accept it, woman.”

Growing up with Tooru Oikawa, you knew many things about the boy that many didn’t. You knew that he always put extra syrup on his pancakes and waffles, you knew that he always preferred hot showers rather than the cold ones his mother always tells him to take for soreness, and you knew that he practiced more than anyone could imagine.

He grew up with a volleyball attached to his side. He set it whenever he could, he would serve it into your yard (and then go get it and serve it back into his). He would ask you to join, but you always just watched.

Growing up with Tooru Oikawa also made you witness his growth. And you think that’s another reason you fell in love with him.

His passion was indescribable. You couldn’t count how many times people (including yourself) have told him to relax, take a day off, remind him to eat and drink. But his heart was in it, no matter how much it distracted him from daily fleets. You admired him for that.

You didn’t have that Thing growing up. You tried a lot of different things, different hobbies and sports and classes. But you never had that thing that you had so much passion for that you had to remind yourself to breathe.

One week of silence. One week of nothing from your best friend. Not a text, a call, a smile sent your way. Not even an eye contact.

It was strange. Your entire life had revolved around being around him, your routine included smiling and walking with him in the hallway, fixing his tie in the morning.

He was already in class when you came to school. And his tie was straight.

You decided to spend most of your free time in the library, knowing that Oikawa didn’t find himself in there very often. If he was going to avoid you without an explanation, you could avoid him just as hard and for just as long. That was your logic.

Iwaizumi joined you, plopping himself down on the couch beside you. It sat in the back of the library, in the corner away from everything. You were being Sad TM.

It was so stupid, of course. To be upset or sad about something that didn’t even happen; at something that almost happened but never did. Iwaizumi reminded you that it wasn’t about the near kiss, but the silence after.

A body appeared out of thin air in front of you. You wouldn’t mistake the boy for anyone in the world.

“’Kawa.” You said, looking up. He looked way taller from your position on the couch. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He said. No “nut” this time. He fidgeted with his fingers. “Can I get my jersey back? The one you wear to the games?”

Your eyes shot up.

“’M sorry?”

“Can I get my jersey back?” he asked again.

You felt Iwaizumi put his hand on your thigh. You must’ve been shaking. One week of complete silence and complete rejection and absence only to be met with the break of a tradition.

“Um, yeah.” You blinked. “Yeah. I have it at home, I can stop by later and give it to you.”

“Just bring it tomorrow. Before the game.” He spoke. But his voice didn’t sound like his. It was forced. Since when was talking to you a task?

“O.. Okay.”

A pinky promise was something taken very seriously. As kids, it was treated with the upmost respect and honor.

It was middle school, and the team announced that for a special tournament, and for school spirit, that the players would pick their best friend to wear their jersey to the games.

Oikawa immediately came to you with his “away” jersey, proudly holding it up. “Pinky promise me that you will always wear my jersey to my games!”

“Pinky promise!” you had told him.

You wore the jersey as you wrapped your pinky around his. Wearing his jersey became one of your favorite parts of going to his games.

Guess in high school, pinky promises don’t mean the same thing.

The thing about Tooru Oikawa is he never dates. This was something you knew for certain. He has never once had an official girlfriend, and he always talked about how he never planned on having one (“They’re both a distraction and a big responsibility,” he would say. “Besides, what would I need a girlfriend for when I already have a girl who does everything for me?” he would add).

Which is why you were surprised to see him hand in hand with a very familiar girl later that day. The long perfect brown hair, the long legs. After seven days of not speaking to you, he had a girl wrapped around his arm as though it was the most casual thing of him to be doing.

You stopped in front of them, trying your very best to hide your confusion.

“Oh!” he smiled, saying your name. Acting as though he hadn’t just asked you to turn in something that had meant something important to your friendship (at least it did to you). “You haven’t met Sana. My girlfriend.”

The aforementioned girl, Sana, smiled at you. Perfect teeth, of course. She gave a slight bow before reaching out her hand. Girlfriend.

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve been waiting to meet Tooru’s best friend!”

You forced a smile as you shook her hand. “Nice to meet you too, Sana.”

You looked over her shoulder, to Oikawa (who looked nervous, fidgety in fact), and to Iwaizumi and Matsukawa (who stood a bit further away, but just as shook and confused as you).

[epic-potato-crisp]

Courtship - Part 3 (AjinWeek21/1)

Notes: So I decided to continue this for Ajin Week 2021! (although I was torn between making this a Sato fic cause you know. Hat.)

Day 1: Favorite character / summer break/ hat

Favourite character: Both Kei and Kou are among my favourite characters, Kei especially is one of my favourite protagonists of all time, and summer break, because this place during the sweltering time that is training camp. (fun! :D)

————————-

“Really?” Kei asks with growing annoyance as the vampire movie plays out on the screen in front of them. “Really?!”

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen that!” Kou defends himself, depositing the bowl of chips into Kei’s lap so his hands are free to adjust the volume.

“This is not what I had in mind when I agreed to…well, dating you.” Kei says, lowering his volume at the last three words that seem a little too foreign too pronounce.

“Why not?” Kou replies, “Movie nights are a super normal thing to do, not even for a date-“ He in comparison, has zero trouble adequately naming their current situation – “or with friends!” He smirked, which could never mean anything good: “Which you’d know, if you had any-“ Kou winces as Kei’s elbow rams into his side.

“I did have friends.” Kei grumbles through his teeth, stretching out his feet over the old and battered, but still quite comfortable couch. This is, surprisingly, afar more relaxing activity than he had initially anticipated.

Even if the movie is grating on his nerves.

“Why is everyone trying to befriend her?” he asks, exasperatedly. Bella Swan had made it perfectly clear that she was not interested in socializing from the moment she had arrived in her father’s rainy suburban town. And yet, in the first half an hour, not only had her childhood best friend shown up, she’d also been introduced to numerous classmates and faculty, and on top of that, was subtly encouraged to take a glance at a family of – vampire’s, that was his most likely prediction based on what he’d heard of the plot.

“Well, she’s new and people wanna get to know her. Nothing wrong with that.” Kou said diplomatically.

“Ugh.” Kei groans, and takes a sip of his coke. Eriko had always tried to make him watch these movies, which, if he was correct, were five in number, because apparently it was no enough to have a fourth movie. No, it had two be dragged out across two volumes. So far, he had been able to avoid it. Until training camp.

“Which you’d know, if you’d had-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Kei snaps, and the mood sours for a moment.

“Right, right, I’m sorry.” Kou says, after a beat of silence, and then his hand reaches over to grasp Kei’s.

“Is that really necessary?” Kei mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up. He prays that the darkness of the room, only lit up faintly by the TV, serves as enough cover.

“Well, it’s a date, right?”

“Stop saying that all the time.”

“Date. Date. Daaate.” Kou sing-songs, grinning at Kei knowingly.

The latter glowers: “Are you in elementary school?”

Kou laughs. He still doesn’t let go of Kei’s hand.

Kei feels his heartbeat quicken, ever so slightly, nervousness manifesting in the pit of his stomach. He chalks it up to the unfamiliar situation. After all, he really doesn’t know whether the movie will provide suitable entertainment for the next one and a half hours. There is no way it has anything to do with Kou.

At least, it shouldn’t.

“If you could choose between being a vampire and an Ajin, what would you pick?” Kou asks, out of the blue.

The movie had ended just a little while ago, a pointless two hours and six minutes of a supernatural romance that Kei couldn’t care less for. It was a little past ten, and they were not finished for a long while, apparently, if the cover for the second movie, blinking traitorously in Izumi’s streaming library, was anything to go by.

“Not this again.” Kei sighs, “Do you spend all day on these unlikely scenarios?”

“It’s that not unlikely.” Kou argues, “Come on, a few years back, you didn’t even know Ajin existed! And now you’re one!”

“Of course I knew they existed. It’s part of the school curriculum.” Kei deadpans, this particular lesson still rather unsettlingly fresh in his memory.

“Which you’d know if you’d gone to school.” He adds, acidly.

“Wow, harsh.” Kou pouts, “I did go. I just…dropped out. There’s a difference. Everyone knows that.” He mumbles.

“Keep telling yourself that” is on the tip of Kei’s tongue, but he swallows it down, if only to retain the peace. And perhaps because he would feel the tiniest bit guilty further prodding at that sore spot.

But school is something he does not want to think about for a good while again. The memory brings only pain. Betrayal from his classmates, from teachers, a jealousy- one that Kou would never be able to comprehend - on missing out on education that is a given for his former classmates.. A High School degree that he will never receive, if the government has any say in it, after all the years and effort, the hours of studying and revising he has put into it. A bleak future with all paths to prestigious medical universities blocked irreversibly. His only crime had been crossing that road that day. If only I could be reborn, Kei thinks miserably, then I could get a new chance. chance. He is in dire need of a new identity. Perhaps he can later guilt Tosaki into creating one for him.

“So circling back to the topic at hand, vampires.” he says, reluctantly.

“Heck yeah.” Kou agrees, excitedly, “So?”

“There are pros and cons on both sides.” Kei shrugs, “If you were a vampire, you wouldn’t be able to age and have a career, build a reputation. You’d have to get a new identity every few years. That sounds like a hassle. And don’t get me started on the…blood lust.”

The vampires and even humans in the movie had looked hungry in a completely different way whenever that topic came up. As though sucking your body’s circulatory system dry was desirable under any circumstance. Kei shuddered at the thought.

“You mean, you wouldn’t be able to build a family, live out your life with your friends, that kinda stuff?” Kou asks.

“I was referring to the important things, but I suppose.” Kei says loftily.

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong about that. Even vampires enjoy having relationships.” Kou argued.

“Debatable.”

“Bella seems pretty happy with the Edward guy.” his teammate emphasizes, “No matter if he’s a vampire or not.”

“But it is going to be a problem in the future.” Kei argues, “Honestly, she should have just stayed with Jacob and been done with it. It’s a suitable match, why put in any extra effort? She’s just going to grow old while he stays young forever.”

“Figures you’d go with the childhood best friend.” Kou mutters, flicking crumbs of his trousers.

“What?”

But Kou – strangely, for once in his life- doesn’t seem to haven an emergent need to elaborate further on the matter.

Kei probably should have said something a long time ago.

Perhaps he should have stopped Kou from starting the blasted second movie, but “Kei, it’s not that late! And how else will you know how it ends?” (Apparently, never was not a viable option.)

So here they are, sitting through another two hours of what Kou calls an “iconic classic” and Kei under his breath refers to as trash, but not the recyclable kind.

The cinematography is stunning, he has to admit begrudgingly, and the plot, albeit ridiculous, still manages to draw him in enough for him to forego his plans of turning the movie off several times, which is quite bothersome.

Well, fine then, Kei thinks to himself, at least now if Eriko badgers him about those movies again, he can give her a detailed review of every single logical error he has discovered so far.

He is considering starting a list, just so as to have some backup proof. His little sister’s education doesn’t have to suffer any more than it already had.

“Is she really going to sit around for months and wait for him to come back?” Kei complains, grabbing a fist full of popcorn from the bowl Hirasawa had made for them, “That’s a complete waste of time.”

“I don’t know, don’t you think some people are worth waiting for?” Kou threw in, giving Kei a knowing -sort-of-look that he couldn’t place.

It was the first sentence he had spoken in a while. Apart from his rambling monologue to get Izumi to join them a while prior when she came in to check if the streaming service was working.

“Did you see these movies already, Izumi-san?” Kou had asked and Kei surely hadn’t imagined the blush pinkening her cheeks.

“Oh, those? Just…once.” she’d replied, her voice sounding a little too high-pitched for that to be true, “It all seems fine, so I should get going-“

“Ah, already? Take a seat, take a seat!” Kou says generously, gesturing to the couch, “You need a break too, right?”

And Izumi did, albeit only tentatively on the edge. “I’ll be gone in a few minutes.” she promises.

She lied. Fifteen minutes later, she is still there and Kei doesn’t have the heart to kick her out, despite this being a a date, as he not so subtly communicated to Kou via verbal cues – all of which the other successfully ignored -but then, he bitterly thought, what chance did their pseudo-trial stand against Kou’s immortal woman of his dreams?

His thoughts screech to a halt. What does he even care what Kou thinks about either of them? It was all beyond ridiculous.

“It depends on how long you’re waiting for them.” Kei says, in response to Kou’s earlier question, “What about you, Izumi-san?”

“I think some relationships are worth preserving.” Izumi replies meaningfully, but right before she can say anything else, her phone goes off, the Caller-ID flashing with a familiar name.

“It seems Tosaki-san needs my assistance.” she says, barely concealing a wistful sigh, “Have fun you two.”

“He really needs to stop working you to the bone.” Kou complains.

Kei has the decency to feel guilty about the relief that settles in him when she leaves.

The motorcycle ride looks engaging. An activity Kei himself wouldn’t mind doing, seeing as there was zero risk involved to his safety with his newfound Ajin status.

As he verbalizes all of this, Kou gives him yet another of these knowing looks.

“Well, you were always one for motorcycles, weren’t you?” he says, tone bordering on smug.

Kei frowns. “Where did you get that idea from? I’ve only ridden one so far, but that was with Kaito.”

“I know.” Kou says, and then downs the rest of his coke.

“Refill?” he asks, holding out his hand for Kei’s glass.

“Sure.” Kei says, passing it over. He eyes Nakano skeptically, for any hint as to why his demeanor kept fluctuating.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Kei cautiously takes the glass from him. Their fingers brush, lingering just a second too long to be casual. Kei notices how the tips of Kou’s ears redden and uses his momentary distraction to his advantage.

“You really hate that Jacob guy, don’t you?”

Judging by the look on his teammate’s face, he hit the nail on the head.

“I, uh, well hate is a kinda strong word.” Kou hesitates, stumbling over words, “He’s just not my favourite.”

“Really?” Kei asks, raising an eyebrow. In all honesty, he isn’t very interested in either of the characters, but psychoanalyzing Kou is what gives the evening its spice.

“Why is that so surprising?” Kou pouts.

“Because he’s just the same sort of muscle-brained idiot that you are.” Kei responds, gracing Kou with an exasperated look, before turning back to the movie.

“Oh.”

His words seemed to have had a profound effect on his teammate. Whatever sort of enlightenment had reached Kou, it had visibly brightened his mood.

“He is, isn’t he.” Kou says, with a small laugh.

“I don’t know why that is so surprising.”

“Guess I never thought of it that way.”

Which was exactly why it fit so well, Kei thinks to himself. Kou looks positively thrilled with the new discovery. As much as it pains to admit him, a lot remains about his teammate that he still doesn’t understand.

“I think he might be becoming my new favourite character.” Kou says, conspiratorially, sliding closer to Kei and slinging arm around him.

As the movie goes on, Kei starts to feel more and more tired. The comfortable atmosphere and the constant stream of voices from the TV serve to lull him a sleepy state. “Wake me up when they reach Italy.” he mumbles, the exhaustion of another day spent training finally catching up with him.

Kou mumbles an affirmative, and that’s where Kei’s memory cuts off.

The next thing he knows, someone is prodding at him from the side, instructing him to wake up.

“Fine, five more minutes.” Kei says, swatting the offending hand away.

He blinks as he comes too, shielding his eyes against the sudden brightness of the room.

The movie has ended, but even if hadn’t, Kei wouldn’t have been able to see much of the screen.

Not with Tosaki blocking their view.

“It’s almost 1 am.” he informs them through clenched teeth, “Get upstairs before I sever the internet connection.”

It’s a substantial threat. Substantial enough to briefly distract Kei from the fact that he had fallen asleep right on top of Kou.

“Fuck.” Kei swears under his breath, sitting up straight.

His teammate seems less perturbed.

“You missed the ending.” is all Kou has to say for himself, with a shit-eating grin.

(“It really is pointless.” Kei whispers, later that night, as they are both lying in Kou’s bed, a hair-brained decision that Kei blames his tiredness for.

“The whole being with a vampire. She can’t be, unless someone turns her into one, but that would be the epitome of a ridiculous clishé".

“…”

“Oh God, please tell me I’m wrong.”)

[yinyanchan]

Housemates x Zoot Suit Riot Crossover: Lucky and Strike part 1

Wanted to post this for my birthday. You guys get to see it here first before the parts are combined and put on AO3. I will update when that happens as I’d like to do POV’s I’ve written for housemates and Zoot Suit Riot as well. The rating on it will be M as we do have a lot a pervs to cover and well Lucky being Lucky.

Summary: In which Blue and Orange from Housemates end up getting sucked through the still active machine in the basement of the house and swaps them with Lucky (Underswap Mafia Sans) and Strike (Underswap Mafia Papyrus) from my fic. Zoot Suit Riot. If you haven’t read Zoot Suit Riot… you are in for a treat with Lucky. Rating is what is and you will find out soon enough.

Check it out under the cut!

Blue was cleaning up near the dryer as Orange was helping him fold clothes in the basement. Both of them zoned out at what they were doing… until…

“You hear that bro?” Orange looks around. He faintly hears a soft whirring sound but both the dryer and washing machine were off.

Blue pauses and looks around.

“I HEAR IT BUT WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE IT IS? I MEAN I FEEL LIKE I’VE HEARD IT BEFORE BUT I CAN’T HONESTLY PLACE IT.” He hums as he continues to investigate with his brother.

“Oh crap. It’s getting louder behind the locked door.” Oranges’ sockets widen as do Blues.

“YOU DON’T THINK THE MACHINE STARTED UP ON IT’S OWN DO YOU!?” Blue looks highly concerned over at his brother.

“It doesn’t seem possible. Go get Sans… I’ll take it from here.” Orange says undoing the lock on the door only to have his hand gripped by his brother.

“I DON’T WANT YOU GOING IN ALONE. MAYBE THIS IS SOMETHING LIKE AN UPDATE BUT I DON’T WANT YOU TO GO IN AND IT POSSIBLY TAKES YOU FROM ME.” Blue is serious and Orange relents… he knows if he doesn’t comply he won’t even get the chance to investigate. Blue will ground his sorry behind that’s for sure.

“Ok bro. On the count of 3 we go in together.” Blue nods, getting that serious big brother mode game face on.

“1...2...3” They open the door and are instantly bathed in light and are instantly sucked into the room. Then moments later two skeletons who look eerily similar are thrown into the room.

They both groan slowly getting up from their awkward positions on the floor. They both look at each other only to do a double take.

“Brother, I know you are lazy but honestly?” The Blue look alike scowls at the orange hoodie clad skeleton next to him. The skeleton in question looks himself over and then scoffs.

“At least you can tell what I’m wearin’ unlike you bro… what even is that?” His brow raised in question.

The Blue imposter looked down at the battle body that Blue so lovingly wore in absolute disgust.

“THE FUCKING HELL IS THIS!? WHERE IS MY GODDAMN SUIT!?” He raves then touches head for his hat… and instantly blue tears are welling up in his sockets.

“Strike… my hat is gone… my classy yet uniquely me bowler hat has gone missing… I CAN’T BE CLASSY, yet highly adorable, AND GET PUSSY IN THIS!!!” The blue skeleton has tears cascading down as he looks around for something far more wearable… he only can find more of what his brother Strike is wearing and aprons.

“Lucky, Look, it's a bit more serious than our clothes right now. Forget our soulmate was in the world we left behind?” Strike asks his brother who looks ready to combust.

“THAT IS THE PUSSY I WAS TALKING ABOUT!!! IF WE ARE HERE THEN WHERE IS SHE!? SHE BETTER NOT BE STUCK WITH THOSE ASSHOLES WITHOUT US BIDDING FOR HER AFFECTION!” Lucky looked positively pissed.

“Well she’s not here obviously.” Strike meanders to the machine listening to its soft dronning hum.

“FIX THIS NOW!!!” Lucky demands but Strike laughs.

“Unfortunately this is out of my league. My machine doesn’t even have one of these usb ports. I had to print orders on a card file for the machine to read it… one mistakenly placed card would throw everything out of order.” Strike sighs.

“Hmmm perhaps this may be a similar situation we were in… multiple versions of ourselves convening in one alternate universe. I say we go out there and pretend to be whoever these skeletons are and single out the one who is responsible for this mishap.” Lucky says lifting up the battle body attire with a repulsed look.

“Great plan bro but how are you sure that they will think we’re them.” Strike questions.

Lucky pulls out the photo in the chest plate of Blue and Orange posing for the picture.

“I think we can handle it.” Lucky smirks, his blue eyes sharpened to blue icy stars.

Strike chuckles as the pose gives everything away. They were just plain ordinary versions of themselves in a different universe… How hard could it be?

They go up the stairs and find themselves face to face with someone so strikingly familiar their soul about leapt out of their chest.

“Y/N?” Lucky asks almost in a whisper but loud enough for you to turn around and smile. Lucky is in a daze and he feels the familiar pull of his soul's longing.... Could it be that there was another soulmate version of you in this world.

“What’s up Blue? Done with the laundry already? From the way you were lecturing Orange about his growing pile of filth… I thought you’d be down there a lot longer.” You chuckle as you come up to pat his shoulder.

The silence was obviously starting to worry you.

“You ok…..” You start but are instantly cut off by Strike chuckling.

“It’s okay honeybun, he’s a little speechless after he found a snack in the pockets of one of these (Slightly lifts the hoodie for emphasis) and it’s well traumatized him a bit. He’ll be back to good ol’ Blue in a moment.” Strike knew he slipped up by the way you look at him puzzled when he called you honeybun but fortunately his deductions about himself in this world were correct. You snort making both Lucky and Strike ease up from the tense situation they were in.

You give Lucky a hug which he’s shocked but instantly hugs you back.

“I’m so sorry Blue. At least it’s not like when Red went on a full cursing rampage… You and Berry both were mortified for days.” From Lucky’s position he was able to make eye contact with his brother.

It was an unspoken acknowledgement of the information they had just gathered. So there was a Red and a Berry… then you leaned back to look at Lucky once more.

“I’m sure you’ll be my cheery, bubbly Blueberry in no time.” Lucky almost cringed and Strike couldn’t hold back his laughter. Leaving you confused and Lucky glaring daggers at him while your focus was off.

Lucky only used that persona as a ruse… He hated being cute but he would do it in a heartbeat if it meant he could get something he could use. Everyone usually thought Strike was in charge and were left confused when Lucky showed up and made sure everyone knew their place. Strike knows that persona works like magic… no matter how much Lucky hates it.

“MWEH HEH! YOU HAVE ME THERE Y/N” Lucky throws himself into the act. You give him a concerned look again but shake it off with a grin. Lucky saw it and knew that Blue must’ve given you a term of endearment that he must call you by constantly… He wished he knew what it was…

Luckily he and Strike were always a team and Strike has his back.

“Sorry honeybun but it looks like he’s still a little out of it.” Strike snickers and Lucky puts on a playful pout that instantly has you looking relieved.

“Well this homework isn’t going to do itself… If only…” You sigh and grab a backpack off the floor and start heading upstairs after waving to them.

“Strike, She’s not used to you calling her honeybun. She seemed okay with honey before the bun. Just call her honey but there must be something this Blue was calling her… I can’t think of anything at the moment of what it could be…” Lucky has his game face on again as they both stand around thinking about their gameplan.

Well… if they couldn’t get back to where they were… There was a soulmate for them here and they both smirked at one another.

“There ya are pipsqueak.” Both Luck and Strike turn to see someone who was definitely a shorter version of Sweets… Had the most atrocious shorts with a parka… but red and black per the normal color pattern. Also the gold fang that stuck out like a sore thumb… So that could mean that their version of Swisher was here too if his brother was.

Lucky actually looked behind him in confusion and worry like there was someone else that he hadn’t seen. Strike noticed the skeleton rolls his eyelights.

“You, You dumbass.” As Lucky turns to glare and Strike straightens himself a little… ready for a fight.

Then all of a sudden the other skeleton starts laughing.

“What? am I in trouble? I shouldn’t be cursing is that it? I hope I don’t invoke big brother mode.” The skeleton continues to guffaw only when he notices that the two skeletons aren’t really reacting the way he was wanting… in fact they seemed deathly serious.

“Hey come on… didn’t mean it. Ya not seriously gonna go inta big brother mode because of that?” The skeleton that resembled Sweets starts to look them over concerned.

“What the actual fuck are you going on about?” Lucky is seething. Strike coughs to let his brother know he’s slipped character because of his anger once again.

Too late the damage has been done. 

The skeleton starts to eyeball them both a little more and starts to sweat.

“Who the…” He pauses in his question then in a blink disappears while yelling “Sans!”

“Well isn’t this a total shit fuck of a mess I put us in?” Lucky groans.

“Told ya ta watch yer anger bro… now all I can say is we gotta sell who we’re impersonating.” Strike sighs as both walk around and try to get familiar with things as quickly as possible.

Both of them find themselves wandering into the living room to be cornered by someone who looked like Black from their world. Only they almost had their jaws drop at his outfit. Bandanna with ragged looking black and red clothes that showed off his spine like a midriff. 

“YOU TWO KNOW WHY RED IS SHOUTING LIKE THAT? IT’S NOT LIKE HIM TO BE THAT OBNOXIOUSLY LOUD.” The new skeleton loudly hisses out.

Strike had to nudge Lucky as he saw his brother's eye sockets narrow in what was sure to be a retort. Shocking his brother to let out a “MWEH” as he suddenly remembers.

Strike was good on hunches and was definitely a walking talking lie detector… even though that doesn’t stop Lucky from lying all the time.

“Come on, Berry, don't be like that. Poor bro is traumatized enough as it is going through my laundry.” His hunch was right as he watched ‘Berry’ shudder in absolute disgust.

“INDEED. I’VE SEEN THE WAY YOU AND RUSS LAZE ABOUT… THAT ROOM OF YOURS MUST BE EQUALLY ATROCIOUS TO HIS.” Berry shakes his head.

“Where is everyone?” Strike grins as he knows this will get them names at least.

“FORGET ALREADY? SANS IS AT THE UNIVERSITY ALONG WITH PAPYRUS AND RUSS. YOU KNOW? DOING THEIR JOBS. EDGE IS AT HIS JOB AS WELL. AXE AND NOOK ARE IN THE GARDEN AND RED OF COURSE IS BEING AN IDIOT. DEAREST IS ATTENDING HER HOMEWORK.” Both skeletons flinch at the smile on Berry’s face when he mentions well… you… who else would it be that a skeleton like this would be so fond of?

Yet Strike and Lucky are grateful to the access of information that was just handed to them on a silver platter.

Lucky has been in thought while listening to the drivel of his newest rival. What would he call someone absolutely dear to him? Obviously it would be something similar to this Blue… would it be Starshine? He likes stars and the way they shimmer and shine… but even Strike seemed to be a little off with honeybun.

“YES! DOING HER BEST! S-ORANGE? AFTER ALL OF THAT YOU’RE SURE YOU DON’T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE THAT NEEDS TO GO IN THE WASH?” Lucky almost slipped but pulled through.

“I’m sure bro.” Strike says with a grin knowing where this would go.

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU. LET US TAKE ANOTHER LOOK SHALL WE?” Lucky and Strike begin to make their way upstairs leaving Berry… without realizing that Berry is looking at the stairs they chose weren’t the stairs they often took to go to their rooms.

Shrugging it off. Blue might’ve wanted to pop in to see how you were doing.

As Lucky and Strike crest the landing both look at each other seriously. You were in one of these rooms so they couldn’t go barging in but all skeletons were accounted for either not being here, inside, or upstairs… save for Red.

He was another problem. If he knew where Sans was he probably took a shortcut there but possibly could be in one of the rooms himself.

Strike shrugged and Lucky sighed walking over to the first door and knocked.

“Yes?” You called out and Lucky swooned.

“JUST CHECKING IF YOU NEEDED ANY HELP!” He calls out and you laugh.

“I might need some help with math later okay?” You tell him through the door.

“THEN I SHALL BE BACK TO HELP YOU.” Lucky preens but Strike pulls him away before he can say anything else.

“Bro, you forget that math is a subject you don’t excel at unless it’s you figuring out how to do something successfully in your own head?” Strike urges his brother to stop while they are ahead. Lucky was only good at numbers from his perspective and not from a textbook.

“Of course and by successful, it is! And Doing…?” His grin is lecherous as he looks back at your door.

“I will be.” He licks his teeth and Strike sighs. 

“Bro, I feel the pull too but we need our head in the game, so we can win it before they find out we aren’t who they thought we are.” Strike pulls him to the next door and knocks.

No answer. Looking around they slowly open it to not make a sound. They see a room in squalor and Lucky nearly gags. Lucky might be a little lazy in the mornings but he likes things nice and tidy.

This must be Red's room from the shorts they see lying about and the red and black color scheme… the only thing that really just has them floored are the pin ups… Naked pin ups…

Lucky looks around and sees a magazine. As he picks up the magazine the centerfold unfolds to a nude woman in a very sensual position.

“L-Lucky put that down!” Strike is flushed with embarrassment as his brother looks awestruck.

“I feel jipped. Where was this stuff in our timeline!? The only things naughty I had were stuffy pin ups with people in their unmentionables but only some skin was shown… This. Shows. Everything.” Lucky wipes a little drool away instantly pinning your face onto what he’s seeing.

“Guys!? Are you in Red’s room!?” They both freeze and Lucky instantly chucks the evidence away from him by instinct.

Only for them to sigh in relief that you were calling out from the otherside of the wall. Yet strike sees Lucky quickly stuff something in his pocket.

“YES WE WERE DROPPING OFF A TURTLENECK SWEATER WE FOUND IN THE DRYER!” Lucky quickly lies at the drop of a hat. Something that was both a blessing and a curse for poor Strike.

“Ok, but you know he doesn’t like anyone being in there when he’s not!” You call out again. You were still pretty muffled due to the wall… which had them looking at one another in curiosity if you had heard anything they said.

Seeing as you didn’t seem weirded out or come over in a huff they speculated that it wasn’t something to be upset about. So they quickly left and shut the door loud enough behind them for you to know they had left.

They went over and gently knocked on the next door so that you couldn’t hear but any occupant would. No answer so they silently slipped in. It was a very nice simple room. Had some books arranged neatly on a few shelves and at least they could see the computer on the desk without piles of dirty dishes and… well they didn’t want to think about what all those kleenex wipes were doing there.

There was a picture on the desk and this one showed Red and a Tall skeleton resembling Swisher from where they were whisked away from. Strike narrowed down the names listed and since it seemed to go in pairs the way it was given. Russ was obviously Berry’s brother. Sans and Papyrus of course the originals… That left Axe, Nook, and Edge. Since Axe and Nook were working together they might be brothers so that left Edge.

“Edge right?” Lucky smirks as he also narrowed it down. Well this wasn’t either of their rooms so they went down another door. Gently knock only to be spooked by a loud voice.

“OH! IS SOMEONE THERE? I WILL JUST BE A MINUTE.” They listen closely, leaning towards the door. They heard water stop running and then the door was thrown open startling them to both jump back. Panic stricken as they see a lumbering disfigured Papyrus lean down quizzically eyeing them.

“Figures there’d be one of him too.” Lucky gripes under his breath and gets elbowed by Strike.

“I AM TERRIBLY SORRY FRIENDS… WERE YOU NOT WANTING TO USE THE RESTROOM? OR WERE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMEONE?” They were at a pause… this was either Axe or Nook and since they had nothing to go by, playing it off was going to be a difficult feat.

“SCAVENGER HUNT.” Lucky blurted out and Strike looked at him like he’s lost his mind.

“WE DIDN’T WANT TO INTRUDE ON ANYONE MWEH HEH HEH.” Lucky gets that big sweet adorable grin as he rubs the back of his skull.

“OOOH A SCAVENGER HUNT!? WHO ARE WE SCAVENGING!?” The tall lanky skeleton of nightmares looks positively joyous and ready to join.

“Ummm who?” Strike looks between the skeletons nervously.

“MEHH NO! NOT WHO BUT A WHAT!” Even Lucky seems at a loss as his shoulders droop.

“YOU HAVE ME PUZZLED BLUE… TO SCAVENGE IS A HUNT FOR FOOD.” Both Lucky and Strike look floored.

“Then why did you say who?” Strike chuckles nervously.

“OBVIOUSLY BECAUSE I MADE A FUNNY. AXE AND PEACHES WOULD HAVE LAUGHED.” The one that is now known to be Nook poses dramatically and somehow his tattered cape like scarf blowing in wind that was not there.

Now the question was… who the hell was Peaches?

“MWEH! OF COURSE I GET IT NOW! VERY FUNNY NOOK!” Nook looks at Lucky weirdly but smiles.

“GOOD TO KNOW THAT MY DARK CANNIBAL JOKES AREN’T *Snicker* DRY.” He pauses and both skeletons seem to have no choice but to laugh while they are screaming internally.

“YES, WELL, NOOK PERHAPS YOU CAN HELP US?” Lucky quickly rebounds to change the subject. Lucky may have seen guts and glory in his line of work but the actual thought of eating someone was not something that sat with him lightly.

Nor for Strike who only sweats as Nook continues to chuckle and say “BONE DRY” under his breath.

“YOU SEE, ABSOLUTELY THE DARNDEST THING. WE ARE MISSING A SOCK. WE’VE BEEN HUNTING FOR IT BECAUSE ORANGE DOESN’T KNOW WHERE HE COULD HAVE LEFT IT… BEST TO RETRIEVE IT BEFORE SOMEONE ELSE STUMBLES UPON IT… LIKE Y/N.” He does the best bubbly impression he has but that doesn’t stop the tall skeleton looking down at him, with a knowing that something isn’t right.

“STARLIGHT.” Nook says bluntly at Lucky who falters.

“I BEG YOUR PARDON?” Lucky tries to keep his cool but even Strike knows when his brother is getting close to the ‘Fuck it’ stage and guns start blazing. Lucky was never really patient unless there was a type of goal that he really wanted to strive for.

“BLUE ARE YOU OKAY? YOU HARDLY EVER CALL PEACHES BY HER NAME ANYMORE. IT’S BEEN AGES SINCE I HEARD YOU SAY IT OTHER THAN STARLIGHT… YOU ALSO LAUGHED AT AXE’S TERRIBLE JOKES. ONLY I AND PEACHES… SOMETIMES EDGE AND RED FIND THEM AMUSING. EVEN RUSS AND YOU ORANGE ABHOR WHAT WE HAD DONE IN OUR TIMELINE AND CRINGE WHEN WE SAY THEM. SANS WON’T EVEN LET AXE TRY THEM IN HIS PRESENCE… PAPYRUS ACCEPTS US FOR WHO WE ARE BUT EVEN HE DOESN’T LIKE THAT KIND OF HUMOR. BERRY STRAIGHT UP FORBIDS US…. THAT IS UNLESS OF COURSE IT'S OVER SOMEONE WHO WAS MEAN TO PEACHES THEN HE FINDS IT HYSTERICAL AND ENCOURAGES IT… CAN NEVER REALLY TELL WITH HIM…” Nook goes off on a tangent… seems to be because he often does. Both skeletons just worriedly shoot glances at one another until he seems done.

“CONSIDER IT US BRANCHING OUT IN UNDERSTANDING FRIEND! MWEH HEH! NOW WE MUST FIND THAT SOCK!” Lucky puffs out his chest.

“OH YES! IT WOULD BE VERY EMBARRASSING FOR PEACHES TO FIND IT. HAVE YOU TRIED LOOKING IN YOUR ROOMS?” Nook questions and Lucky falters.

“WELL UM YES WE THOUGHT BUT PERHAPS YOU COULD HELP US? MORE EYES THE BETTER AT FINDING IT!” Lucky is trying to persuade Nook into helping them find at least Blue or Orange’s room.

Strike smirks. His bro is really good at handling things when he tries.

“NO THANKS.” Nook shrugs and walks off leaving Lucky and Strike to their stupor.

“Uh… Ok…” Strike looks at him quizzically and Nook pauses with a brow raised.

“LOOK, I’M NOT PAPYRUS… WELL TECHNICALLY I AM BUT I’M NOT JUST GOING TO RUN AROUND LOOKING FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S UNMENTIONABLES. THAT’S JUST… WELL UNSANITARY AND RUDE.” Nook scoffs at the other two and meanders off a ways… then turns and eyes them making them stiff.

“YOU TWO ARE ACTING VERY STRANGE. IT’S ALMOST AS IF YOU NEED ME TO FIND YOUR ROOMS ON THE OTHER SIDE DOWN THAT HALL.” He points and both skeletons waive their hands in defense.

“NO NO! OF COURSE NOT! IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY HELPING ORANGE GET THAT FILTHY LAUNDRY TOGETHER.” Lucky is quick on the draw to lie again.

“Yeah it’s been exhausting work waiting for the clothes to be finished… getting pressed…” Strike realizes he didn’t know what those machines were… he only knew dry cleaners… Lucky glares at him briefly.

“OH YES! PERMANENT PRESS! GOOD CYCLE! TAKES FOREVER BUT IT DOES GET EVERYTHING NICELY CRISP AND CLEAN.” Nook nods with a smile and then carries on down stairs.

Lucky and Strike both heave a sigh of relief they didn’t realize they were holding.

[skiller0dani]

For You | Monty De La Cruz

M A S T E R L I S T Timothy Granaderos Masterlist

smut requested requests info missed Part 1? read it here

important notice:  13 reasons why covers some really heavy stuff and their material can be extremely triggering. seeing as my writing is supposed to be for fun only I won’t be including many of the topics seen in the show. in fact, unless I say otherwise most of all my writings for this show will take place before Hannah Bakers suicide. if you or a loved one ever needs to seek professional help please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.

*

YAY. I changed the computer browser theme. took me fucking ages to get it all set up so those of you that are using a computer I hope you enjoy the knew layout! xx

...I will forever be angry for how badly the writers of that show treated Monty...

Catch up! Read Part 1 here! 

Your eyes fluttered open upon hearing the sound of a car door closing next to you. It took you a second to remember where you were, and seeing Monty to your left only confused you further. You blinked the sleep out of your eye, “bout time sleeping beauty.” Monty teased as he pulled onto your street. You blushed as you shifted in your seat, a sharp pain shooting between your legs. Oh yeah. “Sore?” He sounds guilty, which catches you by surprise along with the concerned look in his eyes. You muster a smile and try not to grimace too much as you sit up. “A little.” You admit as Monty’s hand turns the wheel as he pulls into your driveway. Your palms are sweating a bit as you reach down to take off your seat belt. You reach for the door and when you stand, you collapse back against the car when your legs tremble underneath you. Monty is out of the car in a second. 

“Parents home?” Before you know what’s happening Monty has swept you in his arms once again, beginning to head for your front door. 

“No.” You say simply, reaching down to unlock the front door as Monty gently kicks it open. You hold onto his shirt as he traverses up the stairs, “you gonna be alright for school tomorrow? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He sounds genuine, and the admission from Monty has your head spinning. You direct him to your room, which you weren’t expecting him to see today. Embarrassment swells in your chest when the door opens, your bed unmade and clothes scattered along the floor. “Yeah I’ll just get a hot water bottle tonight.” You tell him as he gently lowers you to the bed. Monty’s eyes take a moment to scan over your room and even though you had him balls deep in your pussy not even an hour ago, you still feel incredibly embarrassed. 

“Who’s this?” He asks, his finger landing on a photo of your Mom. Your chest squeezes shut at the sight of her, you blink away oncoming tears before he can notice. 

“My Mom, she died last year.” Monty hums, his eyes lingering on her before moving to the next thing on your desk. You’re appreciative he didn’t make a big deal about your Mom and start awkwardly apologizing. With a cocky smile Monty lifts a white paint marker from your desk, the marker you used to write on your bra. You raise your own eyebrow in response, challenging his cockiness with your own. “You know, feel free to make any more custom bras just for me.” Monty teases, turning with a wink before you can even respond. Your pulse is hammering in your chest when Monty’s fingers trail over the handle of your desk drawer. 

“Hiding a giant 2 headed dildo in here?” There’s a teasing smile on his face and even though your cheeks are cherry red you maintain eye contact with a fierce look on your face. 

Monty yanks open the drawer to reveal your small purple vibrator. “Cute.” He comments, hitting the button and listening to the device buzz in his hand. Your blush is so deep a pulse has started to beat in your cheeks. Seeing your flushed cheeks and mussed hair has Monty fighting another hard on as he turns to face you again. Kneeling at the end of your bed Monty grasps your ankles and yanks you towards him. Your hands land on his shoulders with a gasp, “m-my Dad could be home soon.” You breathe through a shaky voice as you feel Monty’s hand ghosting up your thigh. A half cocked smile plays at Monty’s face, “guess I better make you cum quick then. I wonder if this could help?” There’s a feigned look of innocence on his face as he pulls the vibrator out. You smile as you press forward to lock your lips with his, “hurry up then lover boy.” You mumble against his lips as his fingers reach for the button of your shorts. 

Monty bites gently at the skin of your inner thighs, leaving little love bites scattered across your skin after he yanks your shorts off. You lean back on your elbows, biting your lip when Monty drags your panties down with his teeth. “You’re hot.” You blurt out as he kisses up your thighs and a smile is pressed against your legs. “I’m glad you think so. You’re hot.” Monty says with an amused chuckle. Why on Earth are you so cute? 

Your head falls back when you feel his tongue lick a long line through your folds. “Fuck Monty,” You hiss as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Monty feels pride swell in his chest as your cries and moans of pleasure echo through the room. He’s the one making you feel like this. That thought alone is intoxicating to him. Monty clicks the vibrator on and slides it inside you as he continues to lick and suck at your clit. Your hips arch off the bed as you release a strangled cry of euphoria. Monty’s free hand plants firmly on your stomach, holding your wriggling hips to the bed as you grind against his face. “Please don’t stop Monty.” You plead, your voice a needy whine as his teeth nip at your clit. Hearing you beg and plead for him has his cock hard as steel. Monty thrusts the vibrator quickly as he continues to suck at your clit and soon you feel that coil burst and you cum all over his face. 

“Fuck.” You’re breathless as Monty pulls away from you, returning the now wet vibrator back to the drawer in your desk. “I should go, but I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” Monty says and you nod weakly as he presses a long kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Wait,” you mumble, reaching for the flannel shirt he’s got on. You begin to tug at it and Monty rolls his eyes with a smile as he shrugs it off and tosses it to you. His heart grows 5 sizes bigger when he sees you throw your jacket off and replace it with his shirt, pulling it around you. You’re so tiny in it. 

It’s only 10 minutes later that your Dad gets home with your little sister. The rest of the evening is ordinary and boring. Just as it usually is. You keep Monty’s flannel on, it smells just like him. It’s surprisingly comfortable, you never want to take it off. In fact you love it so much that you sleep in it and then decide to wear it the next day. You tie the front of the shirt making it a crop top as you squeeze on a pair of skinny jeans. Your navel is revealed by the way you tied it, and your belly button piercing is on full display. Hearing 3 honks you look out your window to see Zach parked out front. Seeing as he lives down the street from you it made the most sense for him to take you to and from school. 

“Nice shirt. Isn’t that Monty’s?” Zach asks with a playful look on his face as he raises a brow. You flip him off as you adjust Monty’s red flannel so it loosely falls from your shoulders. Zach would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned of whatever is happening with you and Monty. Monty isn’t known to have long relationships, he’s certainly investing more time into you then anyone else he’d been with in the past. “So do you know what you’re doing with Monty?” Zach asks as he begins to drive towards the school. You roll your eyes, “yeah I’m screwing him.” You say simply as you roll on some red lipstick, your eye makeup simple. Your breasts fill the shirt perfectly with the way you tied it in the front, Monty won’t be able to keep his eyes or hands off you. 

Monty: My clothes definitely look better on you. 

You bite your lip to try and hide your smile as you enter the school and simultaneously receive a text from Monty. You look up and see him standing with the rest of the baseball boys, his eyes burning right through you. You giggle to yourself when you see his hand curled tightly around the strap of his backpack. His eyes rake down your body, but they stop right at your breasts so perfectly presented for him in his shirt. “Damn Monty can I get a piece of that ass after you’re finished with her?” The same damn baseball player from yesterday says and Monty nostrils flare as frustration bubbles in his chest. “You touch her and I’ll break your fucking hand.” His voice is calm but the tone is tense. The guy freezes, swallowing thickly as Monty pushes from the wall to head in your direction. 

Feeling a hand slide into your ass pocket you smile to yourself knowing who it is without having to look. “Montgomery.” You feel his chest press to your back as he presses a kiss to your neck. He pulls away to lean against the locker, his eyes fixed on the guy from earlier. You see the tension in his shoulders when you finally look up at Monty. “What’s up with you?” You ask, watching the predatory glare in his eyes that he shoots at any guy that walks past you. “Monty stop you’re freaking people out.” You laugh nervously, watching as his arms cross. Monty’s jaw clenches and he stands up straighter, “remember how I said I’ll beat any guy that comes at you? I think I’m about to.” He says, and you turn to see the ‘meathead’ from yesterday approaching you and Monty. “Oh hey Paul.” You greet politely, subtly reaching over to grab Monty’s hand. Paul doesn’t give Monty a second glance as he turns to you, “hey Y/N, I just wanted to ask you something because seeing as you and Monty aren’t dating you’re free to do whatever you want with whomever you want.” He snaps, his eyes boring into Monty’s. 

A taunting smile spreads across Monty’s face as he stands straighter, and you can feel the tension building between the two men. “I wanted to know if you were free tonight.” Paul asked, but you figured at this point he was asking only to piss Monty off. It's working. You open your mouth to politely decline when Paul’s hands cup your cheeks and before you know it your lips are pressed firmly to his. In an instant Paul is ripped off you and thrown to the ground, “Don’t fucking touch her.” Monty spits, his fists curling as he puts himself between you and Paul. Your mouth is agape as you press your back to the lockers watching as Paul pulls himself to his feet. “She doesn’t belong to you Montgomery.” He snaps and Monty laughs sarcastically. 

“Baby who do you belong to?” Monty asks, his eyes firmly on Paul. You swallow a thick lump down your throat as you stay stood closest to Monty, “y-you Monty.” You stammer and you mean that, really you do. It’s just that this entire situation is freaking you out. Are Paul and Monty about to get in a fist fight, over you? Monty’s face is hard as he eyes Paul, who rolls his eyes with a bark of a sarcastic laugh. “Sounds like she really has a choice.” Paul snaps, and by now there is a crowd gathered around the two men. Monty licks his lips, his fists curling tighter as he releases a breath. Soon Monty swings his fist into Paul’s cheek, sending Paul to the floor. “Fuck you! She has a choice.” He snaps and when Paul straightens up and smashes his fist into Monty’s left cheek you’re scrambling between them. 

“Monty stop, please.” You plead, your hands on his stomach as you try to push him away from Paul. “It doesn’t matter what he says, I’m yours.” You promise before you press a kiss to his jaw. The simple action seems to release some tension from his shoulders. Monty throws an arm over your shoulders while flipping Paul off. When the two of you turn away from him you feel a harsh slap on your ass and just like that Monty is pushing away from you. “That’s it-” Monty’s voice is tight as he turns and throws a punch into Paul’s stomach. You gasp when Paul shoves Monty into the lockers, causing his right cheek to split open. “Stop!” You cry out, and before you can get in between them you see Zach push between Monty and Paul. 

He harshly pushes both Monty and Paul away from each other. “Monty you need to calm down, Paul you’re a fucking dick. Now knock it off you’re freaking Y/N out.” Zach snaps and Monty’s eyes lock with yours, guilt flashing in his eyes when he sees you trembling. Monty shoves through the crowd and you’re following closely behind him. “Monty.” You say weakly but he doesn’t say anything as he shoves the doors of the school open. “Please,” You beg, voice swelling with tears. When he hears the emotion in your voice Monty stops immediately, turning to pull you against his chest. You hear his heart hammering against his chest. 

“He hurt you.” You say weakly, tears falling down your cheeks as you see the trickle of blood dripping down his left cheek. “He fucking slapped your damn ass-” Monty seethes, his eyes fixed on the school but your tiny hands on his chest stops him from going back inside. “He did that to piss you off.” You say, wiping at your cheeks as you grab Monty’s hand to pull him towards his car. You push him to sit down in the driver seat, you standing between his legs with the door open. You reach for a rag in his backseat before dabbing at the blood trailing down his cheek. “Sorry.” Monty mumbles, the tension finally easing from his shoulders when he realizes you could be in there with Paul. But you followed him outside. You chose Monty. You shake your head with a smile as you lean forward to gently press your lips against his for a sweet kiss. 

“Paul’s right though, we’re not dating so I can do whatever I want.” You start, biting back your teasing smile when you see a tense expression cross onto his face. “But I won’t. I just want you.” You finish and Monty releases a breath, a small smile on his face. He leans back as you continue to clean his cut, “poor girl.” He says and you frown deeply. “Don’t say that.” You argue as you finish cleaning his cut. You and Monty sit in silence for a second before he’s reaching into his pocket, “get in.” He orders and the tone in his voice has your knees weak. You immediately move to slide into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt with shaky hands. “W-what are we doing?” You ask as Monty takes off away from the school. His hands curl around the steering wheel tightly and his jaw is clenched shut, “I need to fuck you. Right now.” Monty snaps, sending heat to simmer in your lower belly. 

Monty slams the car in park when you arrive at what you assume is his house. Before you can even exit the car Monty’s mouth is on yours, hot and wet and so desperate. His hand tangles in your hair as his tongue slides across your bottom lip, and you moan against his mouth. His hands grasp at your hips to drag you across the middle console to settle in his lap. His lips move desperately against yours, the wet sounds of your lips sliding together sending arousal straight to your core. “Monty,” You mumble against his lips, your fingers pulling at the short hairs at the base of his neck. Monty’s hands begin to move your hips against his, grinding you down on his hardening cock. 

“Be mine.” Monty says sharply, his lips trailing down to your neck. Goosebumps spread all over your skin as soon as the words leave his lips, “like, I’d be your girlfriend?” You mumble, your fingernails digging into Monty’s shoulder as he sucks at a sweet spot under your ear. “Mhm,” Monty merely hums in response, groaning as you grind down against his cock harder. He can feel the heat from between your perfect, inviting thighs and it’s driving him crazy. “I can’t handle shit like that, especially when I know you’re not mine so you can go fuck Paul whenever the hell you want.” Monty snaps, pushing your legs around his waist as he hauls you out of the car. 

“Don’t want Paul, want you. I doubt his cock is even half as big as yours is. Fuckin fills me up so perfectly Monty,” You moan against his skin, beginning to suckle on his neck as he kicks his front door open. “So be mine baby, then you’ll get my cock whenever you want.” Monty says breathlessly as he navigates his house with you in his arms. You laugh, “don’t I already?” You tease, pressing your lips to his once more. Monty presses you against the wall, pulling his lips away from yours as he intently looks at you. “Answer.” He says, his eyes searching yours and deep down he’s afraid you’ll say no. You cup his cheeks and press one short kiss to his lips, “the answer is yes dummy.” You tease and a relieved smile overtakes his face before he’s winding his arms tightly around your waist. 

Eventually Monty kicks open his bedroom door, his lips pressed against yours. God he’ll never get used to having you pressed against him like this. Monty carefully drops you onto his grey bed sheets, his hands pressed on the bed on either side of your head. His lips move with yours as his hands move down to remove those tight little jeans of yours. He groans when he sees your bare thighs and wet little pussy covered by your pink silk panties. You slide your hands up his stomach and he swiftly yanks his shirt over his head. “Am I seriously dating you? You’re like a living sex God.” You muse aloud, causing a cocky smile to spread across your now boyfriends face. Monty pulls your shirt- or his shirt- up and over your head and he groans once he sees your bare breasts. 

“No bra today?” He asks, quirking his eyebrow up. You smile sheepishly, moaning softly when you feel his hands grasp your breasts in his large hands. 

“Was kinda hoping this would happen.” You mumble as Monty leans forward to take a nipple in his mouth. He gently bites down at your nipple causing your back to arch and for you to cry out his name. What on Earth did you do to deserve someone as perfect as Montgomery De La Cruz? “Fuck, I really like you Monty.” You breathe, combing your fingers through his hair. Monty releases your nipple with a pop, his fingers still pinching at the other. “I would hope so, you’re my girlfriend now after all.” He begins to kiss down and around your navel, your breathing and heartbeat ragged as he approaches where you need him the absolute most. “Did you ask me only so I wouldn’t fuck anyone else? I really do care about you Monty.” You say genuinely and Monty stops what he’s doing to look up at you. 

“Baby I wouldn’t care so much about you fucking other guys if I didn’t have fucking feelings for you. I care about you,” He says with a smile, before biting down on your hip causing you to whine while bucking your hips towards his face. “Do you promise?” You moan, feeling Monty press a kiss to your lips through the fabric of your panties. Monty rolls his eyes with a smile as he hooks his thumbs into your panties, “I fucking promise. Believe me yet?” He asks as he pushes 2 fingers inside you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. You nod frantically as Monty tongues your clit, his fingers pumping into you quickly. You feel that familiar coil winding quickly as you clutch the bed sheets so hard you’re afraid you’ll rip them. You feel yourself teetering on the edge and just as you’re about to cum Monty pulls away. You groan in frustration. 

“Patience babe.” Monty smiles, reaching for the buckle of his belt. You lean up on your elbows to watch Monty finish undressing and you nearly cum just from his body alone, “I have the sexiest boyfriend in existence.” You say in amazement, causing Monty to laugh. Monty reaches over into his nightstand to pull out a condom wrapper, “that has to be the 3rd time in the last 10 minutes you’ve referred to me as your boyfriend.” Monty chuckles and you shrug, subconsciously spreading your thighs wider for him when he steps between them. “I’m excited. And happy.” You say with a smile, causing Monty to blush slightly. How cute. Monty leans down over you once he’s rolled the condom on, “me too.” He whispers against your lips before sliding into you with one languid thrust. 

You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the stretch it takes to accommodate Monty’s delicious cock. Not that you’re complaining, he hits deep inside you. Once Monty has slid all the way inside you, he groans as he just sits there and basks in the feeling. “Fuck, my girlfriend has the best, tightest pussy in existence.” Monty moans, using your words from earlier. You smile as you wind your arms around his back, your heart pounding against his chest. “Fuck baby, I need to pound you. Need to forget everything Paul did to you.” Monty grits through clenched teeth and you hold him tighter with a quick nod. 

Monty pulls his hips back before driving them hard against yours over and over again, slamming his cock into you. Monty leans up, his hands grasping your hips as he fucks into you, “fuck baby that feels so good.” You cry out, your left hand reaching out to hold Monty’s. Your breasts bounce with each smack against your hips, and Monty keeps hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. Monty holds your hips so tightly you know there will be bruises he’ll probably feel bad about later. Sweat trickles down the side of his face as he slams into you over, smacking your ass hard when he remembers how Paul slapped your ass. Your fists curl around the sheets as you cry out loudly, nearly sobbing in pleasure. Monty reaches down to thumb your clit which sends you headfirst into your orgasm. 

You expect Monty to stop or at least slow down when you cum. He doesn’t. 

He continues to slam into you at an ungodly pace, the frustration being released with each smack of his hips against yours. With each thrust Monty was pulling you back against him, making the impact of his cock hitting your sweet spot that much more intense. Your body shakes with overstimulation as you approach your second orgasm, almost screaming as Monty slams into you. As you cum for the second time on his cock Monty turns you so that you’re laying on your side. “M-Monty fuck!” You cry out, your face pressing into the sheets as you’re rocked against the bed. “One more time baby, cum around my cock one more time.” Monty nearly begs, almost as though he needs you to cum again. Tears of raw pleasure spring in your eyes and cascade down your cheeks as the pleasure is almost too much, “God Monty please make me cum again, please baby-” You begin to plead but you’re cut off when Monty reaches down to pinch your clit and as soon as he does you’re exploding all over his cock and sheets. 

The both of you stay there connecting and panting for a few minutes before Monty slides out of you and collapses onto the bed next to you after discarding the condom. Monty props his arm under his head as you crawl up the bed to nuzzle your head into his chest. Monty’s arm curls around you to pull you against him tighter, “you okay? I wasn’t too rough was I?” Monty asks, worry in his voice as he looks you over. You smile as you press a kiss to his chest, “I’m in heaven Monty.” You sigh and he relaxes again, holding you to him tighter. You lean up to grab his phone from his jeans before you’re relaxing into his arms again. You open the camera and snap a photo of you laying naked on Monty’s naked chest making sure you’re breasts are concealed by smashing them against Monty. “What’re you doing?” Monty asks, his voice thick with drowsiness. You simply press a kiss to his peck as you open Paul’s contact in Monty’s phone. 

Monty: hey Paul it’s Y/N. just wanted to say I just had the best sex I’ve ever had. oh and I saw your dick in the locker room & yours isn’t even half the size Monty's is. ;) 

You attach the photo before pressing send and Monty laughs lightly. “That’s my girl.” 

[mandadoration]

raise the stakes

summary: The Mandalorian and Carasynthia Dune have you, their sweet little mechanic, to themselves, ambushing you under the guise of leaving to get a bounty. Thank the Maker you’ve dropped the Child off because it gets a little hot and heavy in the Razor Crest. 

word count: 4, 299

Pairing: (sorta established) mandalorian x reader x carasynthia dune

warnings: smut, threesome (MFF), oral sex (male and female receiving), face sitting, face fucking, multiple orgasms, dom/sub undertones, praise kink, pain kink, creampie, unprotected sex, overstimulation

a/n: Same universe as settle the debt, but can be read as a standalone. Filthiest smut I’ve probably written thus far. 

Read this on AO3

---

Something… is definitely up when you walk back onto the Razor Crest. Cara is looking at you with a wicked smile on her face, and Mando… well you can’t exactly tell what he’s thinking, but it can’t be good when he gives Cara a curt nod. At some point they’ve gotten really good at communicating wordlessly, but something tells you that this was something discussed while you were busy actually doing your job instead of scheming. You drop your bag of tools by the hatch that is closing up behind you as you look between them with narrowed eyes. There’s some kind of tension rising in the air, and it makes you uncomfortable and shift where you stand. Not because there’s animosity, but rather it’s the lack of. You’re used to the playful competitiveness between the two, or even the worry that can stuff up the air after a dodgy mission, but this is some sort of inside joke that you are an outsider to. But whatever is lingering in the air is palpable. 

“The ship is in working order,” you announce, voice ringing clear in the quiet hull in an effort to try and clear up the tension, but the suspicion in your tone is too clear to really assuage anything or convince the two to let you in their shared secret. “Cleared up some gunk that was causing the weird sound. And I dropped the kid off with Greef Karga with some choice words. We should be good to go, but I recommend refueling before a second jump to hyperspace.” You receive no answer, but Cara does settle in her seat as Mando gets up and stalks towards you, for lack of a better word. You always seem to forget how formidable he seems. Probably because you’ve seen him fall asleep with the kid in his arms once or twice. After that, the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy tends to stop being so scary. You cross your arms as he walks right up to you and stand your ground. “Would anyone care to tell me exactly what’s going on?” you ask bluntly. 

“What do you mean?” Mando rumbles, and you have to look up at him with how close he is. He’s close enough that you can smell the lingering scent of blaster fire and whatever he polishes his gleaming beskar armor with. He completely engulfs your view, and when you crane your head around to try and look at Cara, he follows to stand in your way. You huff in annoyance. 

“You know what I mean,” you say. A step to the left, and Mando follows with barely any lag. A step to the right, and the same thing happens. The only thing Mando really moves for is when you take a step forward because he takes one back. Other than that, it seems like he insists on being nearly chest-to-chest with you. How childish. “Mando,” you sigh, “didn’t you say that we had some kind of bounty to go after?” The helmet tilts. 

“I did, didn’t I?” he says. You raise an eyebrow. He sounds like he’s entertaining you, as if you were some child. 

“Yes, you did,” you say slowly. “Which is why I did a checkup on the Crest and dropped off the kid with Karga. You know, like you pay me to do?” Although you suppose that the payment is less that and more like he gives you an allowance to spend when occasion allows since so much of your funds are essentially shared. Mando remains as impassive as ever. 

“And?”

“And,” you continue, frustration bleeding into your tone, “that means we should get going. Karga isn’t going to look after the child forev-- oh my goodness--” Your sentence dissolves into nothing as warm, calloused hands run over your shoulders and down your back, eventually settling on your hips as searing kisses are pressed to your throat. Mando takes this as his cue to swoop in, slotting his leg between yours as you’re effectively sandwiched between two bodies before you can think twice. Now you can see that Cara is no longer lounging in her chair. Mando runs a gloved finger down your face and over your lips before dropping it down to start working on the buttons of your mechanic’s jumpsuit. The other comes up to cup your face, nestling your jaw in his large hand. You blink. 

“What were you going to say?” Cara muses, voice muffled but all the same teasing as she sucks what’s sure to be a dark mark at the junction of your shoulder. She moves to the other side, nipping at your sensitive skin high above the collar to make sure you wouldn’t be able to hide it easily. You faintly register how Mando has managed to pop enough buttons open to slide his hand in to fondle your breasts over your undershirt. “Sounds like you lost your train of thought.” And it’s true because you don’t even have an inkling of what you were talking about before, the heat quickly building up in the pit of your stomach as you grasp at Mando’s arms in an effort to ground yourself to something. Mando grinds the cold cuisse of his beskar against your heat and your eyes flutter shut. You still try to save face. 

“Well I was- I was interrupted,” you gasp out. Mando unbuttons the rest of your jumpsuit all the way down to your navel and starts sliding it off of you, humming in appreciation when you slides your arms out to help him. 

“Here’s your chance to finish your train of thought, then,” he says. Cara’s hands leave your hips for a split second to let Mando pull your jumpsuit all the way off until it pools around your feet before her hands are right back on you with a bruising grip. You fumble around for the last thing you remember. 

“We have to-- We have a bounty?” you say, but it’s really more of a question as Mando slides his hands around to continue to strip you bare. Your shirt proves more of an issue, however, but Mando just simply grabs the collar of your shirt with his hands and rips in clean in half. “Hey--!” Your complaint is smothered by Cara sticking her fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue as she shushes you and then praising when you instinctively curl your tongue around the digits. He leaves your panties on, much to your annoyance, now damp with your slick and leaving marks on the cuisse that you’re grinding against. Mando flicks a nipple, and you jolt. 

“Do we?” he asks in that stupid teasing voice he’s been using this entire time. “What do you think, Cara?” 

Cara merely presses her body flush against yours as her fingers leave your mouth to dip into your panties to play with your clit, dipping down further to collect some of your slick before going back up to start rubbing in slow circles. “I say,” she mutters, “that we have some time before we have to go.” You try and fail to swallow a moan at the husky tone of her voice. Mando gives a noise of agreement, and he takes off his gloves before he joins Cara’s hand at the apex of your thighs, moving aside your panties to run a finger over your entrance. You’re certain at this point the only thing holding you up is the fact you can barely move between the muscled bodies of Cara and Mando. 

“How much you-- ah, wanna bet that Karga will ask for mo-more payment for having to-- Maker, watch the kid for longer?” you stammer out. Cara and Mando loved to take their time with you, and you had only told Karga it would take less than a week at most. You were going to be wonderfully sore by the time they were through with you, which would certainly put a damper on your plans to follow the two out to get the bounty. The last time you were left alone you had to kill another damn bounty hunter that was looking for the kid, but not without being bedridden for an entire week and a half when a blaster shot clean through your thigh. Honestly, you thought they would be done by now, but still they came to collect the evasive little womp rat. Thank the Maker for bacta, and bless the Maker for the attention Cara and Mando had showered upon you including basically waiting hand and foot for you, but you were not going to let more hunters catch you slipping. “Yo-you know he does grow tired of playing- playing babysitter.”

“Well, Mando, what do you wager?” Cara asks. She presses a little harder against your clit. 

“I’m not betting when I already know Karga won’t say a word,” Mando responds. “He likes spending time with the kid.” You can feel Cara frown from where her mouth is pressed against your hair. “How about this?” he says slowly, and slips a finger into you. You cant your hips up. “How many times do you think we can make her cum?” Mando offers, and in no time he’s stuffing another finger into you. Cara’s frown turns into a pleased smile. 

“30 credits to say we can make her cum at least 3 times,” she says. 

“That’s it?” Mando says critically. 

“The amount of credits or the number of times?”

“Both.” You can feel Cara shrug. 

“Then feel free to raise the stakes, Mando.” Mando curls his fingers in you, and you cry out, legs nearly buckling under you as you reach behind you to tangle your hands in Cara’s hair. She grunts, and starts circling your clit faster. 

“50 credits,” Mando says, voice dropping lower than before, “for at least 5.” You can feel a rush of wetness gush out of you as Mando slips in a third finger with ease, and for a second you think they’ve sort of forgotten you can hear them. 

“M-Mando,” you moan. Certainly at this point you were being entirely held up by the two. At the call of his name, the Mandalorian starts pumping his fingers in and out of you, obscene squelching filling the air over your pathetic moans. Cara pretends to think about it. 

“75 credits for 6.”

“Deal.” 

And then Cara speeds up substantially and Mando is fucking you on his fingers and suddenly you’re cumming so much that your vision goes white for a split second. You faintly register how wantonly you’re moaning, but you’re too concerned with clenching around Mando’s thick fingers and scrabbling for purchase in Cara’s hair to care. It’s utterly indecent and you’re so glad the child isn’t here because the guilt would weigh too heavy in your heart to know they would’ve been an unwilling listener to whatever was happening right now. You rest assured in knowing he’s being spoiled silly by Karga, and curl your toes in your boots. Mando maybe says something about this being ‘one out of six’, but you can’t be too sure. You were concerned with making you didn’t pass out with how hard your orgasm had slammed into you.

As you come down, you realize at some point that they’ve lowered you onto a small makeshift nest of blankets and pillows that you really don’t know how you didn’t notice before. Mando’s pulling off your boots and tossing aside your jumpsuit as Cara arranges you on the floor, and you can practically feel how they’ve got their eyes glued on your heaving breasts as you drag in deep breaths to try and calm your racing heart. 

“You planned this all along,” you accuse, breathless but still chock full of false venom, pointing a finger between Mando and Cara. “You-- mmph-!” Cara interrupts you again by capturing your mouth with hers, immediately slipping a tongue when you open yours in surprise. She pulls back much too soon, and she pushes you back down with ease when you try to follow her up, wanting more. 

“You talk too much,” she says, stroking your cheek and softening the scowl you have on your face. Mando pulls your panties off all the way and stares at your blushed hole, glistening in the low light of the Razor Crest. “We should fix that.” You huff and try your best not to feel too self-conscious with how Mando keeps looking at your pussy. The temptation to try and kick him from your position on the floor is overwhelming.

“Well if you stopped interrupting me I could--” And Cara ducks her head to kiss you again and cut you off, but you can’t really complain because her mouth is warm and inviting. You close your eyes in pleasure, focusing the feeling of her lips moving against yours, but you can feel the air shift around you as Mando and Cara move around. It’s weird to feel Cara’s mouth move as you stay stagnant, and when you open your eyes again, you find that they’ve switched places. Cara kneels between your legs as Mando is unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants, palming at his hard cock over his underclothes. 

“Maybe you just need something to occupy your mouth,” Cara teases. She gives your thigh a sharp slap. “Flip over.” You scowl at her, but do as she asks, turning around to lay on your belly. You expect her to hunch over to give attentive kisses down your back as you know she loves to do, but to your surprise, Cara hooks her strong arms under your hips until your face is squished against the layers of blankets, and your hips are swaying in her face. You shiver when your pussy is exposed to the cooler air of the ship, and even more when Cara’s hot breath fans over it. You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking up at Mando through your lashes when he pulls out his cock and strokes himself slowly, smearing his precum around the head, but uses whatever wetness is left on his fingers from your cum. He scoots forward, and you obediently open your mouth to take him, moaning in tandem with Mando when Cara’s tongue licks a broad stripe up your cunt. 

“Fuck,” Mando groans. His cock rests hot and heavy in your mouth as you try to calm your spinning head and focus on him. That proves a challenge when Cara is quickly bringing you up to that crest again, licking into your pussy and spreading your cheeks by digging her fingers into the flesh of your ass. If it weren’t for the fact your head was spinning with lust, you would’ve probably felt extremely embarrassed with how receptive you are, swaying your hips and pushing back to chase after that mind-numbing pleasure again. Mando takes pity on you and slowly starts thrusting into your warm mouth, a tender hand brushing your hair out of your face as tears start gathering at the corner of your eyes whenever he hits the back of your throat. Everytime you gag, his cock jumps a little. But thank the Maker that Mando is doing most of the work because it’s hard to really focus on anything other than Cara’s mouth on you and oh-- now she’s pushing in a finger and you’re arching your back as you let out a muffled moan. Mando hisses at the vibration and twitches his hips forward. You bunch up the blankets under you in your fist as you fight the urge to gag again. 

“You’re missing out on this sweet cunt, Mando,” Cara says, pulling back to give you a mere second of reprieve before she dives right back in. 

“So you are you,” he rasps. He grabs your hair, pulling until you whine at the sharp pain, and then starts fucking into your mouth in earnest. “Her mouth, fuck, is so warm.” Cara slips in two more fingers next to the first, scissoring you open, and you really think you can’t feel anymore full than you already are. “So eager.” Her tongue is wicked on your clit, and you start to clench around her fingers. 

“You close?” Cara mutters, her voice thick with lust. You garble something unintelligible in response. 

“Her mouth is a little, hah, preoccupied at the moment,” Mando says. 

“I wonder why.” And Cara gives a particularly hard suckle on your clit and this time your orgasm washes over you in a hot tide instead of slamming into you. Mando pushes in a little deeper, wiping away the tears that fall from your eyes as your throat constricts around him, cooing praises at you through the crackling of the voice modulator. Cara slows her ministrations, but keeps her fingers in your pussy as she lets your ride out the aftershocks. You think you’ve finally calmed down lazily bobbing your head as you try to catch moments of air between it, but Cara drags her fingers out of you and gives you a few short slaps to your pulsing cunt. These two were going to be the death of you. 

“That’s two,” Mando notes, his tone too casual compared to how ruined you already felt. Could you really handle four more? Cara hums and continues to smear more of your wetness around your already sopping wet core. She breaks her gaze from your center, to your flushed face, and to Mando. 

“Wanna--”

“Yes.” 

Mando slides out of your mouth with a pop, a thread of saliva connected you two, and you keen high in your throat when their combined body warmth fades, looking up pleadingly up at Mando with glazed eyes. They both laugh, low and deep in their chests, and Mando strokes your cheek affectionately. “Calm down,” he soothes. Instead of moving around like you expected them to do, Cara pulls you off of your hands and knees and up against her back, sliding you down until you’re comfortably on your back. Mando rubs his cock between your lips, gathering the slick there as Cara pulls her pants down and kicks them off to join your own discarded clothes. “Shit, you’re wet,” Mando hisses. Cara swings her leg over your face, swaying her hips over your face and laughing when you try and crane your head up to meet her. 

“Told you so,” she says to Mando over her shoulder, and then she’s lowering her hot cunt onto your waiting mouth. You give a moan of appreciation that turns into a moan of need as Mando pushes the blunt head of his cock into your entrance. He doesn’t push in all the way, just teasingly back and forth until you whimper and wiggle your hips at him. You lick into Cara, circling her clit with your tongue, diving down to her entrance to lap at her wetness before going back. She sighs happily. 

“And I told you,” Mando responds. “Sounds like we’re even.”

“For now,” Cara breathes. Mando finally pushes fully into you, his thick cock seemingly splitting you as he presses those inches into you. It’s dizzying, and far better than the fingers either of them had given you. Now you can’t even complain that you’ve cum twice before this. You’re not quite sure how Mando could’ve fit if it weren’t for the fact you’ve already been worked open and slick with want. Still, Mando hisses and has to move slowly as your pussy stretches around him. When he fully bottoms out, you scrabble at Cara’s thighs, leaving red marks in the wake of your nails. She lets out a flitting laugh at the yelp you give as she pulls your hair. “Don’t wear her out too fast, Mando,” she says. The entire exchange sounds a little muffled, Cara’s strong thighs covering your ears as the strong, corded muscles flex with every little kitten lick you give. It’s a different kind of suffocation compared to sucking Mando’s dick. You are entirely engulfed with Cara’s presence, and you could die happy from where you are. 

If only the two devils would leave you alone to bask in your satiation instead trying to wring your very soul from your cunt. 

“Bold of you to assume she’s anywhere near tapping out,” Mando replies dryly, and drags his cock out before working on pushing back in again. You whine again when he does, and Cara yanks on your hair to bring your attention back. Then, low in your ear, “You’re not done until I say you’re done. And that’s not gonna be until I’m satisfied.” This is when you start to wonder how much of this is them betting over you, and how much is them trying to prove something. Both of them have incredible stamina, and you’re already worn out. 

“Don’t forget about me,” she teases, mock threatening with the strong hold she has on you. At this rate you were going to go bald with how they seem to be enamored with pulling your hair. But honestly her words don’t hold any promise because she grinds down into your face and there’s no way you can ignore her unless you passed out from the lack of air. 

Actually you may not be too far off. 

Between you trying to drag in breaths whenever Cara takes pity and lifts up now and then, and Mando punching the breath right back out of you, it’s hard to breathe properly. Especially as he thumbs short, quick strokes on your clit, timing it with every sharp thrust in. “C’mon, sweet girl,” Mando murmurs. “I know you’ve got another one in you.” The coil in your stomach is winding tighter and tighter as he adjusts his grip and swings one of your legs over his shoulder, driving in harder, and suddenly Cara’s grip in your hair is grounding more than anything. At the new angle, he’s hitting that sweet spot that makes you wail under Cara. “C’mon,” he urges. “Cum for me.” 

You mumble something, and Cara lifts just enough to let you speak. “I don’t- I don’t know if I can,” you stammer, squeaking when Mando gives you a sharp slap to your thigh, and Cara lowers herself back down. 

“Yes, you can,” Mando and Cara say simultaneously. Mando cranks up his thrusts until you can feel yourself shifting upwards with each motion, inch by inch, and if it weren’t for the blankets under you, you would’ve expected some nasty marks. 

Somehow Mando draws another orgasm out of you that leaves your legs shaking and toes curling as your run red marks down Cara’s thighs in an effort to express the waves of pleasure washing over you. At the same time, Cara nearly properly sits on your face, moaning as she cums, gushing wetness all over your lower face, chasing after her own orgasm. 

Mando hunches over at the vice grip your pussy has on his cock, and his hips stutter in their motions as he buries himself as deep as he can, and another feeling in you bottoms out when the hot spurts of cum coat your insides. His moaning sounds broken through the vocoder, so much so you nearly mistake for a guttural growl. You barely register the how your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you think you’ve definitely blacked out at some point because when you come to you’re sandwiched between the two on the floor, Cara pressing more kisses to your collarbone and chest and Mando stroking your hair. 

“You good?” Cara asks softly. You blink, staring up at the ceiling of the Crest before you realize you were supposed to answer. 

“I think I pulled a muscle,” you say weakly, and your voice is a little hoarse. The two huff a laugh, and you settle deeper into the blankets and pillows, sighing contently. You don’t even mind that you feel gross and cum is dribbling out of your pussy and cooling on your thighs. 

Well, actually you’d rather not think about it. It’s pretty gross. 

Cara runs a thumb over the skin on your ribs, right under your breast, tenderly. Your entire body is thrumming with aches and wonderfully sore, and you really don’t know how you were supposed to help Cara and Mando with the bounty. 

“The bounty!” you gasp, startling the two around around as you try to get up. Cara puts a firm hand on your chest and pushes you back down. 

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

“The bounty we were supposed to get!” you elaborate, trying to shove her hand off of you as you try to locate your clothes. “I told Karga it wouldn’t take too long and--” Mando and Cara laugh. Although it’s in good humor, they may as well have laughed in your face. 

“There is no bounty,” Mando says, humor lacing his tone. “We just told you that so that we can have you to ourselves.” He brings you back down and tucks your head into the crook of his arm. 

“You work yourself too much,” Cara adds. 

“Oh,” you say. Your voice sounds small. “Wait, does that mean I did pre-flight checks for nothing?” The memory of being elbow deep in black sludge surfaces. 

“Yeah.” You frown, but resign yourself to snuggling closer to Mando and slinging your leg over Cara’s hips, closing your eyes as a wave of exhaustion washes you. 

“Ah, what do you think you’re doing?” Mando asks. He pats your face a couple of times to rouse you, and Cara reaches down to cup your heat. Cara grins, and you would bet the rest of your rations that Mando was too. 

“We still have a bet to settle,” he says. “And I’m thinking about raising the stakes.”

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen​ @mando-vibes​ @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore 

[poison--ivory]

Get Back Up Chapter 3

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and nightmares

Anthony didn't know who that slim figure in the doorway was, but he didn't like him. Especially with the way (y/n)'s body flinched when his arm swung around her waist, reeling her into his chest. Her hands came up just in time to put a little barrier between the two, at last his strength broke her blockade and caused her to fall into his grasp. Yet, she still adores that sweet smile on her lips, her gaze fixed on the man holding her and in that moment Anthony couldn’t wrap his head around the reason why (y/n) is so caring to people. 

When she enrolled into culinary school and had that roommate, a complete slut and a backstabbing bitch who made her life a living hell, (y/n) still treated her with respect and wanted to befriend her. In the end that bitch turned her back on her at every twist and corner. But, Cherri and him worked their magic and soon after her social life at that school went further down the toilet. (Y/n) found out a couple of days later and didn’t like how we handled the problem. However, she thanked us for thinking about her and to show her gratitude, took us out for lunch that day.

     Yet with the help of the nightstand lamp he could see a bit in the dim room and he could’ve swore he saw the faint hue of red on her cheeks. However, in this case the man latched on her, didn’t look like he loathed her, on the contrary he held such adoration in his eyes when staring at her. It was when his eyes trailed over to him is when they turned hard and distasteful. The hate that seeped through his skin and consumed his frame, he could tell that this man didn’t see him in a light that a normal human should. His gaping stare was more on the lines of a predator staring down his prey, Anthony knew what danger lingered behind that leering look and that made him. . .uneasy. He tried to match his gaze with a harsh one as well until a split and sharp pain rang throughout the left side of his head. So, he took his gaze off the man and took a big gulp of the tea, which at this point the hot tea that was in his cup was slowly getting lukewarm and the position on the bed made him feel really exposed to this weird fucker.

     He hated feeling weak and defenseless in front of folk and despised the way this new guy stared him down. Squaring his shoulders, even though it felt god damn awful to move right now, but he didn't want to take any chances with this questionable guy, even if (y/n) married him.

Motioning with his strong enough arm, he motioned to the brunette that just intruded in on their conversation.

     "So, uh. . . Who the hell are you?" (y/n)'s eyes widened, rapidly shooting her head back and forth between us and to be honest he really didn't care if he sounded rude. He just wanted to fuck with him, just for the shits and giggles and it seem to phase the man for short second. “(Y/n) didn’t tell me she married a pimp and a good looking one at that.” Her eyes were the size of headlights which was pretty amusing, but he was gauging for more of a reaction from the menacing man standing next to her.

       “Anthony!” Her voice raised a couple octaves before lowering it down to whisper, really broadcasting her motherly side right now. “You shouldn’t say something like that, especially for a first impression.”

He wasn’t gonna muster up any type of energy of fake kindness just to suck up to this son of bitch, not for (y/n) either.

       “What, first impressions are for insecure high schoolers who need validation on whether they look pretty or not. Besides, he hasn’t told me off yet, so relax toots.” The corners of her mouth stretched out into a flat line and I could already sense her screaming ‘I’m done with your shit’ before she could even say anything. “Come on, (y/n) a little bit of harmless flirty won’t kill anyone and besides he seems fine with it.”,puffing out his chest the burning agitated growth in his lungs flared up, but he kept up this bouncy exterior to appear far from an injured animal.

        “Don’t you worry my dear I only came downhere to see how you were doing this morning, yet found you here with. . .this. . .effeminate fellow.” Words fell through clenched teeth, leaving a dark atmosphere to fill the room. (Y/N) finally sensed the tone of the room and, so she latched on to her man's arm guiding him out the room.

        “Come on, Al let's give Anthony some space,” a quiver in her voice and her anxiously attempting to pull his body towards the door, “he’s in very poor condition, right now and you & him bickering is just making it worse.” Successfully shoving him out the door, and before leaving she gave him a warm and soft smile. The door slammed soon after, he could still hear their bickering through his dazed and groggy state. Footsteps grew distant as they carried on down the hallway, voices muffled behind the walls in a way comforted Anthony. Compared to his home life he would wake up to his dad arguing with his mother or one the other family members that dropped by in the morning, he would slothfully fall out of bed knowing that the constant screech match wouldn’t end for an hour or maybe even longer on a bad day. Nonetheless, he drew comfort from the low conversation happening down in the next room. Laying on his side turned to face the door, not knowing if (y/n) was going to come back in with her bright smile, he could even go for a fake one. But, no matter what he tried to think of he kept emulating that bizarre man hovering over him with his overbearing and suffocating aura.

      Anthony was so in thought that he didn’t even realize his mind was drifting off to sleep, his body sinking into the soft linen warmed by his body heat in cased in the thick stacks of blankets. He entered REM sleep in a matter of seconds, Anthony was back at home sitting at the kitchen table in his childhood apartment. His mother rushing back and forth, like a chicken with her head cut off, she ran around preparing for tonight's dinner. My sister Molly sat in front of the t.v. watching a cartoon show, Niss was leaning on the wall, his heated gaze directed towards the door, waiting for someone. The sun outside was, so bright and cheerful compared to our bleak apartment, outside he could’ve sworn he heard children laughter mixed with shoes hitting against the hard cement. A narrator or a small voice enters the enclosed space of the kitchen, his mother unfazed from the new voice speaking. He didn’t notice it before, but the voice seemed to be talking like they were speaking for a while now. They sounded like a chorus of different people talking at the same time, so serene, but assertive? As the voices were speaking it slowly grew darker and rougher, increasing in strength and volume ‘til the point of static rang against my eardrum. His head burst from the high frequency of the many voices, this time they spoke separately making it hard to concentrate on a single non existent body. The pain got so unbearable to the point of grasping at his own head and trying to cover up anything that led to him hearing this ear shattering noise. But, as soon as it started it soon ended, leaving a sharp pinging noise in the air, his face was wet from tears that stung his freshly scratched cheeks. A thump of a door swung shut, his brother moved into the kitchen swiftly, dad traveling in behind him. Taking a seat right in front of Anthony, he avoided eye contact with his dad trying to gain his mom’s attention, but she glued her face to the floor not even looking to meet his gaze when setting the plate of food on the table. His dad’s gaze was directly on him, the voices started speaking up again, yet this time it was only one particular, familiar voce.

It was his own voice talking back at him.

       “Ya have to help her.” He automatically thought about his mother who gets hit every night by his father, but she died years ago. The dead don’t need our help anymore after they’re six feet under. “She needs your help, even if she feels safe.” He wasn’t following, he was mostly leering out the window, hating the freedom most people had when he was growing up. He listened to himself warn him, but something he said stuck out the most to him.

       “He’s never going to let her go, he’ll kill her once he’s satisfied with her companionship. But, the demon has the yearn to feed on flesh and will get his way. You need to be sneaky and clever or he will kill you. Just like the others.”

      The room fell in darkness, and he was surrounded by slippery stone walls. Looking up to the dark sky, rain water hit his face and he could barely see the outline of a silhouette peering over the walls of the cramped cylinder space. Anthony didn’t know why, but he called out for help, yelling til his throat was sore trying to yell over the loud rumbling of thunder. A bright flash of lightning flew across the sky, giving light to the figures' features and what he saw made him freeze in terror. What was supposed to be his eyes were clocks, his teeth were yellow and sharp, his mouth stretched out from ear to ear and his face looked like it was peeling from small creases of wrinkles. Flowing red and black hair soaked from rain pressed against his face, the man made his spine tighten. He couldn’t move, and what made his fear rise was his small chuckling, right then his head spun a full 360 and his limbs bent at weird angles as he slowly descended down the wall. He only stopped once situated, Anthony felt tears sting his face again, crying harder when he started moving directly towards him, and he hated the feeling of being trapped in this inescapable small and tight space. He was half way down, before he stopped again his smile growing even larger than what humanly could be done. The stretching of his skin left small bits chipping off and landing on his face, too afraid to even take his eyes away from the beast he kept the flesh on his terror stricken face. His mouth gaped open, strings of saliva stretched and fell and right when his gaping jaw was wide enough he let go of the wall allowing his disfigured body to fall straight towards him. His body was engulf in a warm encasing of hot flesh, turning his world dark once more.

      Anthony woke up with a jolt the adrenaline in his veins kept the pain at bay as he rushed to the otherside of the room, before going to the door swinging it nearly off its hinges. He darted down the hall, with tears rushing down his face. He needed somebody to be near him, right now even if he felt like a child in the process he wanted, no needed comfort. Warmth radiated from the kitsch as he turned to see a whole family sitting down for breakfast. Three kids stopped eating to stare back at him, (Y/n) shooting straight out of her chair, he could only hear static right now, but he could see her face full of concern written all over it. Yet, the only thing he could keep his attention on was that brunette with the ever stretching smile.