#you know a big puffy coat hates to see him coming

[nortism]

Doctor Who Actors in Giant Coats Part 4

Matt Smith as the Eleventh Doctor

< part 3 | part 5 >

[thecapricunt1616]

NURSE!!! NURSE!!! SHE BROKE OUT OF HER CAGE TO POST MORE- Dad!Carmy brainrot for you all 😉🫶

— so I Imagine him getting a call in the middle of the night, you’re heavily pregnant with your third. His Apple Watch thankfully woke him (you’d be worried for him to get a call so late). He gets up without waking you going into the living room and answering to hear your teen daughters watery voice at the end of the line and she’s all “Daddy promise you won’t be mad at me” (more below)

He’s immediately grabbing his keys, putting on his shoes and brown plaid coat that he’s had longer than she’d been alive, or then he’d even been knowing you for that matter - his heart thumping in his chest and throat tightening. “Sweetheart why aren’t you home right now?! are you safe? Tell me wha’s wrong- what happened- I won’t be upset honey” he assured her, his stomach clenching at the thought of her hurt.

“P-paisley wanted me to go t’this party with her and - and the police came daddy and she left me there alone- and I got arrested. Come get me I don’t wanna die in hereeee” she sobbed dramatically. He sighed gratefully, starting the car.

“You aren’t going to die princess. Give me 20 minutes mm? And we can talk ‘bout y’punishment w’mommy t’morrow” he said and she huffs

“You’re gonna snitch on me T’mommy?! Daddy you’re being so unfair! “ she whined

He chuckled a bit, “I’m bein’ very fair. I love you babygirl I’ll s’ya soon” he said and hung up. He knew if he’d have woken you, you would have freaked out and panicked at the thought of your little girl drunk and scared and alone. Considering how far along you were currently the stress could most definitely cause early labor and he did not want to deal with that tonight.

He’d make it to the police station fast bc ofc when he was picking a home for his family it would be super close to one for safety reasons and when he walked in and saw his baby sitting in a holding cell with other adults being held on misdemeanor charges, his heart would break.

She would be curled into herself on the bench, knees flush to her chest hugging herself, cheeks tear stained, big blue doe-like eyes puffy and red with thick tears that were still falling. He wanted to pick her up like she was 2 again - even though the top of her head hit his shoulder now, and cradle her like the baby he couldn’t help but see any time he looked at her.

“Oh princess” he said softly and she looks up, quickly standing up and she couldn’t help but burst in to sobs as relief washed over her when she finally saw her dad, who had never let her down from the day she was born - he was always there for her, as were you, but Carmy was always softer on the kids then you were because his dad never showed any of his siblings softness, so he wanted to be sure the kids always trusted him in that way

“Daddy you came! I’m so scared please please I’ll never do it again please get me out of here dad I’m so sorry I’m so so sorry daddy” she broke down and he felt tears pushing at the back of his eyes he could only swallow back because they were in public.

“You- hey-“ he snaps his fingers and the cop standing outside the holding cell door finally acknowledges him “I’m her fuckin father- let ‘er out. Now.” He said annoyed with the man’s lack of attention for his own job.

“She’s unable to be released until her fine is paid” he said and shrugged “it’s the law”

Carmen dug the stupid reciept paper he’d shoved in his pocket that he’d paid the front clerk when he got here, pushing it to his chest “open the fucking door, jagoff. Shes 16 the fuck is wrong with you she’s a baby” he said angrier, voice getting louder.

“Sir I’m gonna need you to calm down.” He said and Carmen rolled his eyes, 2 words he hated hearing even more than anything when put together.

“Look at the fucking paper. And let my daughter go” he snapped, holding his baby’s hand through the bars gently and rubbing a soothing thumb over her knuckles, she was shaking like a leaf.

“Mmm” the man grumbled, opening up the door and she rushed into Carmen’s arms. He kisses the top of her head tenderly, wrapping her in a tight bear hug.

“Y’never allowed t’scare me like that again angel girl” he mumbled into her hair, breathing in her scent that he could pick out even in his sleep as his baby girl.

“I’m sorry daddy I’m so so sorry” she mumbled over and over, tears soaking his shirt. He hushed her how he did when she was just a baby and rubbed her back soothingly.

“S’okay babygirl I think y’learned y’lesson mm? Y’think you wanna go out drinkin again before y’21?” He teased lightly and she sniffled, shaking her head lightly. He didn’t care that she was getting snot all over him, or that she was staining one of his near $80 white shirts with her mascara and eyeliner she’d gotten with a Ulta gift card ‘Santa’ had gotten her, since Carmen couldn’t bare the fact his baby girl was growing up.

“No- no daddy I promise. I promise I’ll never do it ever again. Please don’t tell mommy” she pleads and looks up at him with big watery eyes. He carefully thumbed away the large rings of black under her eyes and cups her face tenderly.

“Sweetheart I am not in control of what mommy does. You know this, and I can’t lie to mommy. Are you asking me t’lie t’mommy? M’already riskin’ my spot in bed by not waking her up t’tell her ‘bout this” He asked sternly, she knew that lies were a big boundary in your family - they just hurt people unless they were ‘happy lies’ aka surprises like gifts or sweet things, but withholding information from each other in fear of making someone upset was a big no no in your house.

She huffed annoyed, lip quivering and she nuzzled back into his chest “unfair. Mommy is gonna ground me forever” she whined.

“Mm - maybe she should ground you. What the hell is this outfit? She’s not gonna be happy ‘bout this, y’gonna get sick” he tells her. She was in nothing but a tank top dress, flimsy nylons, and a half cardigan. He wraps his jacket around her shoulders as they walk out to the car, of course he couldn’t care less about freezing his ass off because his baby needed to be warm even if it was a short walk to his SUV.

“It’s cute dad and m’not gonna get sick! All the girls were wearing dresses like this!” She snapped sassily as she buckled in.

“Mm cute - sure pumpkin. What were you even doin’ - what party was worth the rage of y’mother? Especially when you know she’s been in a mood lately” he asked. A mood was what he called it, you were really just overly hormonal and sore and giving birth within the next 14 days, so everything was ticking you off

“Hally Hawkins party dad. Only the coolest senior at school!! If I was the only one who wasn’t there how was I supposed to ever find a date to the winter ball next month?!” She huffed, crossing her arms

“Date?!” His eyes widen “since when did we say you could date?!” He asked quickly “you aren’t dating you- you can’t date until you’re married!” He said seriously to which she just giggled

“How am I supposed to get married if I don’t date daddy! I’m 16 now! I’m getting my license soon! I should be able to hold hands with a boy I like-“

“Hold hands?!” He exclaims “who the hell is holdin’ y’hand? No- no. No! I’m the only man that holds y’hand and it’s to help you across the street” he grips the steering wheel tighter “y’too little” he said and she whines

“Daddy I’m not little! I’m 16! You promised to stop calling me little” she pushes his hand away at a stoplight when he goes to fix the strap of her dress out of habit “daaaad!!!” She whines and he huffs

“Quit all the whinin’! Y’little as long as y’live w’me and that means that y’not dating and y’not holding hands” he pulls into your driveway, turning the lights off before as to not wake you. “And quiet comin inside- if you wake y’sister mommy is gonna be upset she’s been havin’ a hard time sleepin’ “ he opened her door, taking her purse and helping her out of the car.

“Is this mommy’s?” He holds up the purse and she takes it from him, holding it to her chest defensively.

“She never wears it anymore what- are you gonna snitch?! If you do I’ll tell her about you eating all her ice cream” she teased and headed to the door

He gasped, “you wouldn’t dare- you’d sell out y’own father?! After he just went and picked y’ass up outta the slammer. Maybe I shoulda let you stay there eh’? A night in jail may teach you some manners missy” he jokes as he unlocks the door, not seeing the kitchen light on.

“Where were you!” You were stood at the end of the hallway, fluffy robe and slippers on, hand over your bump as you stood there while nervously pacing. Carmy and your Daughter give eachother the we’ve been caught look before Carmy looks at you, as you narrow your eyes at your daughters arm adorning a very familiar looking black bag.

“Is that- red lipstick…and my purse?!”

[delcakoo]

pity party ₊˚ރ⊹゛p.sh

SUMMARY ! when everyone forgets sunghoon’s birthday, he ends up finding comfort from a warmhearted stranger on the bus ride home.

PAIRING ! stranger!sunghoon x gn!reader

WC ! 800

GENRE ! fluff, slight angst and comforting sad hoon :c

a/n: sorry it’s short, just a lil’ thing for our birthday boy <3

sunghoon’s eyes were getting watery, and he hated that. a lot.

his birthday isn’t a big deal, he isn’t twelve anymore; he should just be grateful for what he has, wipe away his cascading tears and man the hell up.

but as he slides onto the public bus and scans down the aisle full of exhausted college students, old drunkards, and middle aged mother’s gossiping on calls with their kids fidgeting frantically next to them, he can’t find himself caring when all their eyes lock onto his teary red face, pink bottom lip trembling as he sniffles every few seconds.

he makes his way down the column of busy seats, mindlessly plopping down onto the first free one he comes across. and at last, he reaches his hand up, wiping the salty droplets off his puffy cheeks sorrowfully.

god, he was being such a wimp.

before he could beat himself up any further, a hesitant soft voice abruptly interrupts him. “are.. are you okay?”

sunghoon whips his head to his left, brows rising at the sight of soft eyes glistening with worry and concern towards him, despite being a complete stranger.

you were attiring a puffy winter coat and a bright green scarf, one hand gripping onto the tote bag resting carefully by your chocolate shaded boots.

he gulps and wipes his face again, feeling even more humiliated with his current state. “y-yeah, thanks,” he barely voices out.

sunghoon watches in his peripheral vision as you continue to examine him, clearly having an inner debate on if you should leave the conversation at that. he almost began crying again at how cute you look in such deep thought.

you swallow, “what happened, if i may ask? ur— i mean, you don’t have to tell me obviously, but if you—“

“it’s okay,” he assures with a small smile. “it’s kinda stupid, anyway. just.. all- all my friends n’ stuff.. they forgot my birthday.” your eyes widen, heart breaking into pieces at his painful tone. “i mean, i don’t even care, seriously. i don’t know why i’m crying because it’s really not a big deal.”

it seems you could easily tell he was trying to convince himself more than you.

it’s silent for a beat, nothing but sunghoon’s faint sniffling surrounding the bus until you hesitantly reach over, placing your hand on top of his cold, shaky one. your fingers rub his knuckles, gently calming his distress with comforting glances.

sunghoon didn’t realise how touch starved he was; throat getting clogged as he bites his lip to prevent letting out another pitiful sob, watching the way your touches feather him as if he were a fragile vase.

suddenly, you speak up again rather confidently. “can i give you my number?”

he chokes, looking back up with widened eyes. “w-what?”

“so we can make a plan for tomorrow,” you explain. “for your birthday.”

you, a complete stranger that had just met him on probably one of the worst days of his life, wanted to celebrate his birthday with him? tomorrow?

before he can stop to think, he’s already pulled his phone out, dropping it into your grasp mindlessly as you begin making a new contact. sunghoon peers closely as you type in your name with a bus and crying emoji next to it, letting out a chuckle of disbelief.

at the sound of laughter you look up, grinning proudly once you finally see his fanged smile. “you’re going to have the best birthday ever tomorrow…?” you look at him in question.

“sunghoon.”

“well sunghoon, i’m a master at baking cakes, specifically birthday cakes with chocolate fudge,” you declare, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

sunghoon doesn’t even like chocolate.

but at that moment he decides it’ll be his new favourite flavour in the world.

as he opens his mouth to reply and show his gratitude, the bus driver boisterously announces the next stop.

“shit,” you mutter, frantically standing up from your seat. “i’m so sorry, i wish i could’ve stayed with you longer, but this is my stop.” your face reflected genuine affliction; not wanting the poor boy to be alone just as he was for the rest of his special day.

sunghoon shakes his head, “no, no it’s fine. you- you already made me feel way better.”

your face brightens a bit, nodding as you achingly wave goodbye. “see you tomorrow.” you turn away, walking right to the front of the bus, tote bag hanging on your shoulder and wooly green scarf still tightly around your neck.

it felt like a last goodbye, like everything was in slow motion watching you leave him, even though he’d be seeing you tomorrow.

but right before you descend down the stairs, you gasp, turning around and making the other passengers frown in annoyance as you block their way.

“hey sunghoon!” you shout across the bus without a care in the world.

the boy in question gawks as you stare him down, eyes shimmering and a fond smile rushing to your chapped lips. “happy birthday!��

sunghoon’s eyes get watery again, but he hates it a bit less this time.

if you enjoyed, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @koshinene @boowoowho @sultrybaby @yunjinlvrr @lov3niki @yujiecho @monstaxdirtywonk @dekusgirl @l1lac-dreamer @kodzukii @yjjungwon @miou45 @rosie-is-everywhere

[kyojurismo]

Hi, I don’t know if I am doing it right. This is an emergency request. I have had the worst week ever at university and, since I live alone, I have no one really waiting for me when I come back. I have stumbled on your acc yesterday and I was wondering if you can write some headcanons about “comfort sex” with Douma, Muzan and Akaza when the reader comes home from a bad day at work/university. Female reader, if it’s not too much to ask for!💕

Thank you so much!

▸ ANSWERING. k now i feel both bad and stupid bc apparently i just imagined to write some reqs, idk man. anyway, here we are. hope you’ll enjoy it <3

▸ FANDOM. kimetsu no yaiba

▸ CHARACTERS. muzan kibutsuji, douma (upper rank two) & akaza (upper rank three) x fem!reader

▸ RATING. nsfw

▸ WARNINGS. smut, vanilla sex, oral sex (f receiving), fluff, praising, um they’re human i guess? it’s up to you yeah, not proofread

MUZAN KIBUTSUJI

muzan sensed something was wrong

you were clearly stressed and the fact that you had a bad day was written all over your face

“come here, darling,” he patted his laps and you approached him, sitting down

he would kiss you so lovingly while caressing your tensed up body

he would lay you down on the couch, start undressing you and kiss all over your skin

he praised you, filling you with compliments while he reminded you to ignore whoever made you feel bad

“you’re smart, everything will work out the way you desire.”

his thrusts were gentle and slow

the pleasure overshadowed everything, making you forget about your bad day

muzan was here to make love to you, keep it in mind

his big hands caressed your shoulders and your hips

he teasingly pinched your nipples, because he knew that it makes you laugh sometimes

when you two are finished he would keep you close to his body, secured into his warm embrace

“i love you, darling.”

DOUMA

douma saw you were upset and simply decided that all you needed was a good fuck and some food

okay no, let’s slow thing down

he would take you to your bedroom

undress you

kiss all over your pretty face

then would let you lie down on the bed

and boom, he’s between your legs

douma was born to satisfy you (he thinks so)

he probably ate you out for a couple of hours

your thighs always ended up squeezing his head

his nose bumped into your clit while he used his tongue on you

his thick fingers thrusting and curling into your warm channel, wet sounds filling the room

his reward? your moans and whines

when he finally decided to leave your poor pussy alone, who’s now all puffy and wet, most of his face is wet with your juices

there was a smirk on his face while he looked down at your trembling body

then he ordered your favourite food and ate it in bed with you, cuddling and chatting about random stuff (:

AKAZA

this man is straight up from heaven

because as soon as you enter your house he’s there to welcome you, kiss you passionately and show you what he prepared for you

when it still wasn’t enough to cheer you up, he decided to take you to bed

he took his time with you

his lips probably kissed every inch of your skin

he payed special attention to your breasts, sucking and licking your hardening nipples, then your stomach and just after all that, his lips connected with your throbbing clit

his lips and fingers worked to make you cum

twice

then he freed his cock, pumped it a few times and sank into you

“you’re doing so good, sweetheart.”

“oh, fuck. you really needed that, huh?”

he’s so lovely and gentle 😭

his thrusts are slow but hard, akaza knows how to make you see stars

and your moans and your grip on his shoulders are the confirmation

you arched your back before cumming a third time

akaza came soon after, you could feel the spurts of white coating your walls while his cock twitched

cuddles because you deserved to be treated like a princess <3

▸ BEFORE LEAVING. reblog and comments are super appreciated. i strangely don’t hate it??? lol, thank you for reading by the way !! <3

[m-jelly]

Levi with a s/o who loves books and the rain.

Raindrops and pages

Levi x fem!reader

Modern AU, fluff, romance, CEO Levi, being a couple, rainy day.

Levi comes home from work with a gift for you. Before giving you the gift, he stops for a moment to admire you. The two of you shower each other with love before enjoying a nice quiet moment.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

The crisp cold air nibbled at Levi's cute puffy cheeks as he hid under the umbrella. All Levi could think about was you warming his cheeks up with your kisses. It'd been a long day for him and he was very tired and it was too damn cold out.

He moved through the front reception and waved to the guard on duty. Once he'd gone through he tapped his card against the reader in the lift and went up to the penthouse. The closer he got to the penthouse, the more relaxed he felt.

The penthouse was so big when it was just him and he hated going home, but after you moved in he couldn't wait to get home. It used to feel and look cold. However, you added little touches to the place to make it more welcoming. It wasn't the forever home though, Levi had plans for a home in the country with you so you could have a family together.

Levi pulled off his wet coat and placed his umbrella in the right spot for the water to trickle off. He placed his work bag on the hook you installed for him and retrieved a present for you. It didn't take long to find where you were. Levi always knew that on long days at home, you'd be sat in the cosy window he made for you so you could sit, read and enjoy the views.

He paused a moment and admired you in a baggy shirt of his, comfy trousers, fluffy socks and a blanket. He couldn't but smile as you focused on your book with a hot cup of tea on your coffee table next to you. The intention was to go right over to you, but seeing how comfy you were as it rained outside he wanted to join you in that comfort.

You were so in your own world that you didn't notice Levi go to the bedroom. He quickly removed his suit and changed into his jogging bottoms and a long-sleeved top. He put his slippers on and made his way to the kitchen to grab a cup so he could share a tea with you at your little tea station next to you.

Levi called your name. "My cute little bunny."

You lifted your head from your book and smiled. "Hello, grumpy. How was your day?"

He leaned over and kissed you. "Horrible. I missed you."

You giggled. "Let me guess, you had to socialise a bit?"

"I did."

You took his cup and poured him a cup of tea. "Well, I'm proud of you. You've done really well today. Thank you for your hard work."

"You always know what to say to make me feel good."

You shuffled forward. "Want to cuddle?"

He sat behind you and pulled you into his arms. "Mm, perfect." He handed you the present before taking his tea from you. "I got you something. I made sure it was delivered to work so I could surprise you."

You unwrapped it slowly. "Thank you. You're so sweet to me."

"I hope you like it."

You gasped when you saw it was an old book. You investigated it and saw it was a first edition. "Holy shit. A first edition!?"

Levi showered your neck and shoulder with kisses. "I know you love that story and I thought you'd appreciate a first edition."

You stared at the first page. "Is that the author's signature?"

Levi looked closer. "Yeah. They sent me this certificate as well to say it's real."

You turned in his arms a little and kissed him. "You're incredible. Thank you. This is...wow..."

Levi hugged you with one arm. "Can you read to me?"

You shuffled around and leaned your back against Levi's chest. "Of course."

It was comforting to Levi to be with someone like you. There was something so soothing about quiet moments reading a book, watching the rain sometimes and having a warm drink. This life was like a long, warm and lasting hug.

Levi smiled and called your name. "I'm happy, really happy."

You snuggled closer. "Me too."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[ariisheresstuff]

My Eyes Are Up Here!

Pairings: Bakugou x fem!reader (aged up)

Summary: You and Bakugou were at a Pro Hero Gala, and seeing you in a certain dress just does something to Bakugou

Genre: SMUT! MINORS DNI‼️

Warnings: You and Bakugou fucking in a coat room, kissing, cursing, dirty talk, just everything you could think of involving smut

MasterList

A/N: My requests are open! <3

“Babe! Are ya ready?” Bakugou called out to you from the living room as he placed on his coat, you two were just about to leave for a Pro Hero Met Gala that happens every so often. Katsuki really hates them, but you encourage him that these events can get his name out there. “Yeah! One sec!” You quickly touched up your dark lipstick before fluffing out your hair one last time, you quickly grabbed your purse before walking down the stairs. Katsuki heard your heels clicking down the stairs making him turn around, “Fucking finally, taking all the fucking- holy fucking shit.” He stopped his sentence midway admiring you from an angle, you had on a very tight long maroon dress. There was a slit by your left leg, your hair was in a big puffy bun with loose strands of hair coming down on the sides. “Like my dress I’m assuming?” You teased at him as you walked down the previous stairs, “Hell fucking yeah.” You giggled as you walked over to him placing your hands on his chest, you looked up at his crimson dark eyes. You played with his tie as you sighed, “Could say the same about you Kats.” Bakugou smirked at you as his hands roamed every piece of your body making you sigh softly, “You always look so fucking good for me baby, fucking hell.” He moved your head to the side to attack your neck, you moaned softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You whimpered when you felt him bit down on your collarbone, “K-katsuki, stop we have to get going.” You pushed him away as he whined, “I mean we could always just not go.” He said with a grin as he went to attack your neck again but only for you to push him back lightly, “Kats, i did my hair and makeup. Were going.” Katsuki sucked his teeth before grabbing your hand as you two walked out the house, “Just know I’m finishing the job later princess.” He said in your ear before lightly biting your lobe.

Once you two arrived at the event, there were paparazzi everywhere. “DynaMight!” “Y/N! DynaMight! Over Here!” “Love the dress Y/N!” “DynaMight! Who are you wearing!” A bunch of them swarming with questions, Katsuki gave them all scowls. You two were on the red carpet as multiple paparazzi took pictures of you two, some solo but mostly you two together. Katsuki pulled you into his chest as you placed a hand on his torso leaning into him. Flashing lights blinding you from every angle, until you two decided you were done with pictures for the night. You two quickly met up with the rest of your old classmates. Kirishima quickly noticing you guys and making his way to you. “Bakugou! Y/N! Nice to finally see you joining us.” Kirishima dabbed up Bakugou as he gave you a hug with a back rub, “Hey kiri! How’s everything?” You asked him with a smile, he returned a sharp smile back at you, “Been great! Never better, how about you two?” “Same old, same old.” You joked around “Kacchan still being the grumpy old Kacchan.” Kaminari’s voice came from behind Kirishima, you smiled at him. Katsuki gave him the finger, “Shut your ass up Sparky.” You gave Katsuki a frown, “So disrespectful.” You said with a bit of tease making everyone else laugh, “Keep testing me woman.” You gave him a smirk making him grin at you, “Anyways, where’s the rest of the gang?” You asked Kiri who then pointed to a table where everyone else sat, you nodded before grabbing Bakugou’s hand and dragging him to greet your other friend’s.

After a few hours of drinks and talking, the ceremony was gonna start in about 25 minutes. Usually about awards or about the high top chart of hero’s. You were talking Momo about something when you felt a hand grab your wrist pulling you out of your seat. You yelped as you turned to see who it was, only to find your boyfriend who had that shit eating grin. “Momo! I’m so sorry I’ll be with you in a minute.” “No worries Y/N.” Momo waved you off with a smile, your turned to face Katsuki. “Kats! What the hell are taking me?” “You’ll fucking see baby.” You sighed knowing what was gonna happen, he quickly pulled you into a room filled with everyone’s coats. It was a really nice room that was meant for coats, before you could even process what was happening Bakugou pushed you into the wall. You gasped lightly at the sudden movement. “Katsuki! You were really are gonna do this right here?” “What the fuck do you think?” You rolled your eyes as he started to pulled the top of dress down to reveal your lacy bra, “W-what if we get caught or something?” You moaned lightly as he started to kiss your cheek and kissing down your neck, “We’re fine Y/N, just let me fucking touch you.” You moaned a bit loudly this time as he started to cup your tits through your bra, he then un-clipped it behind you with one hand. You moaned at the contact, you shivered at the cold air hitting your sensitive nipples. They immediately hardened in his touch making him darkly chuckle, “Fuck baby, these fucking tits.” He bent down to latch his mouth onto a nipple, circling his warm tongue over the bud. You placed your head back on the wall, whimpering and moaning. “I-oh fuck, katsuki.” You placed a hand in his hair scratching his scalp making him groan, you immediately cupped his face to bring him back to face you. You crashed your lips on his making him moan lightly, he cupped your neck as he shoved his tongue into your mouth making you moan lightly. You both pulled away for air but not for your lips to stop touching, your cheeks felt like a wave of heat.

“God, i can’t get enough of you Y/N.” His hands wandered down to your lower region as he picked up the bottom of your dress, he groaned seeing your thong. “Shit, I bet your already dripping for me aren’t you princess?” He said in your ear making you shiver at his hot breath, “Katsu, please!” “Please what baby?” You felt his finger tips slowly rubbing circles over your clothed clit, “T-touch me.” “Touch you where? Use your big girl words.” You groaned at him teasing, getting frustrated. “My pussy! P-please Baby, rub my pussy till I’m numb!” He smirked before rubbing off your thong making you gasp “Good girl.” He dug his fingers into your sex making you jump at the contact of his thick fingers entering you. “Oh! Fuck! Katsu!” “I know baby, feels so good hm?” You nodded into his neck as you wrapped your arms and legs around him gripping onto him for dear life. “Jesus, could you feel you squeezing my fingers baby. You close?” You whimpered out an answer making him coo at you, “Aw, my poor baby wants to come on daddy’s fingers hm?” “Yes! Yes! Please daddy!” “Go ahead baby, make a fucking mess on my fingers you slut.” You shivered as you felt a gush of white hitting you, you could see stars as your orgasm hit you like a bus. Katsuki held you as you shivered and jolted at the intense pleasure, “Fuck baby, making a mess everywhere.” He took his soaked fingers out of your pussy, a glistening clear substance dribbling down his fingers. He slowly placed his fingers in his mouth sucking off your sweet nectar. You moaned as you watched him, “Taste so sweet like always baby.” He cupped your face as he placed his lips on you, you could taste yourself on his tongue. “Taste yourself princess?” You nodded with a whine, “W-want your cock.” “Tch, so demanding.” He unbuttoned his jeans before sliding them down, he placed his hands in his boxers freeing his member. His cock jumped out slapping his stomach, you eyes widened. He chuckled “I know baby, so big.” You whined as you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, he lined himself up to your core. He looked into your eyes softly. “Ready?” You nodded as he immediately shoved his cock into you, you had to burry your head into his shoulder to moan. “O-oh fuck, Jesus- baby.” Katsuki moaned as he thrusted into your pussy, the room filled with skin slapping and echoing in the room. “Katsuki! So big!” “I know princess, m-my big cock destroying your insides.” “I love you K-Kats!” Tears ran down your face in pleasure as you felt that similar burning in the pit of stomach like earlier, he thrusted more harder into you. “Fuck! I’m cumming baby, i love you more.” His thrust became sloppy as your body twitched, “Oh f-fuck baby!” You squealed as your toes scrunched up in pleasure, you moaned and whimpered. Your body jolted more than last time as you came on his twitching cock, you felt his cock twitch more. “Oh fuck! I’m cumming! S-shit!” His hips stuttered as a heavy dump of warm cum filled you up full, he rested his head by your neck as he you both panted like you both ran a 5 mile run. He jolted as he finished, you closed your eyes. You both jumped when you heard an announcement discussing that that ceremony is starting in ten minutes, “Just in the nic of time.” Katsuki gave you a smirk as you ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, you laughed softly. “Can’t have them waiting big guy.” You both quickly started to freshen up, you looked into the mirror by the door to fix your makeup and hair. Katsuki fixed his tie and jacket, you turned to face him. “What?” You chuckle as you rubbed away the lipstick stain on his jaw, “Can’t be suspicious.” He chuckle lightly before grabbing your hand and quickly making it back to your seats.

You two quickly met up with your classmates, “I’m guessing you two had a fun time.” Sero teased at you two making the rest of the boys laugh and cackle, “The fuck you talking about Tape Boy?” “Might wanna check your necks lovebirds.” Denki teased at you making your eyes go wide, Katsuki looked away with a growl. You two flushed pink, “W-we um I- “Just shut your mouths.” Katsuki demanded them as they continued to snicker at you two. You looked up at Katsuki with a shy smile, he huffed before grabbing your hand to go sit back down. “Let’s just get this shit over with already.”

Tag-List: @ebiharachan @otomefan @amis-love-bugs @slasherstories123 @writeslikedream

[mixes-archive]

You know what i need?

I NEED könig with an s/o who also got bullied in childhood, maybe not as much as the big guy but still preaty severe bullying

I don't care if it's headcanons or a scenario i just need this concept in my life

I. Am. Begging. Please

"In der Vergangenheit"

It is my responsibility and job to meet my visitors needs, so please, enjoy! I'm also really sorry if I moved away from the prompt a little, so feel free to request this again if you aren't happy or just want more :)

Also huge warning for self doubt and all the things that come with bullying

VERY ANGSTY, BUT ALSO COMFORT

You and König were alike in a lot of ways. Socially awkward, working for the military and severely bullied as children.

But, there was also something...

He talked about his trauma.

You didn't.

Years of dismissal had led you to just bottle it up until you were seconds away from exploding, letting it all out on whoever was unfortunate enough to be nearest to you.

You two were different in that sense.

.

.

.

He's only mentioned his bullying once, but from what you've heard, it was bad. How hadn't his parents noticed the bruises and scars? Or were they just not bothered to care? No, from what he's described, they do care about him. Then again, he tended to romanticize things...

But who would you be to call him a liar?

One time, when he asked about your childhood, you'd claimed it was good, great even. Many friends, loving family, supportive teachers, you name it.

But there was always just one part you left out. König didn't need to know, it didn't concern him, he had enough going on already. Your pain was nothing compared to his.

And so, the bottling continued.

.

.

.

Heavy footsteps crunched against the snow coating the pavement. Luckily, some neighbor had salted the sidewalks a few days ago, just before the snow fell down hard.

Your heavy and erratic breaths painted the air with white clouds. König had told you that as a child, he pretended to smoke a cigarette whenever the temperatures dropped so low, it was a nice moment you shared. God, you couldn't wait to be back in his arms.

Today had just been too much. Too loud, too busy, to fast and too slow at the same time. You just wanted to go home.

Wrapping your coat tighter around your body, you sped up, finally seeing the only house on the street with the lights still on at this ungodly hour. Hopefully, he wasn't still awake and just left the light on as a courtesy.

You searched your bag for the key, quickly growing frustrated at your inability to find it, letting out a loud groan just in time for the door to open to reveal your lover.

His bright smiled dropped at the sight of you, tear stained cheeks, puffy eyes and a less than pleased look. König wrapped you in his arms and pulled you inside.

Your eyes were fixed on the ground, but you could feel him gently removing your coat and untying your shoes. His voice seemed almost distant as he asked if you could just slightly stand up on one foot so he could take them off, patting your quads as a thanks for doing so.

He could tell you weren't quite there.

That terrified you. The thought of someone seeing you at your weakest again...

The tears fell before you could think about it.

You found yourself carried to the couch, thick blanket wrapped around you, a cup of tea in your hand, the steam warming your cheeks still frozen from being outside so long. He sat next to you, gently running his hands up and down your arms. A pleasant silence overtook you both as you slowly started to calm down, but still on edge.

.

.

.

"Are you okay?"

God, how you hated that question. You couldn't keep count of how many times you'd been asked that. They didn't care, just asking to seem like they did. A polite question really, but useless and hurtful in the long run.

Earnest answers were never appreciated in this situation, you'd gotten used to coming up with excuses for watery eyes or a sour face.

But today was the last straw.

"What do you fucking think, Einstein? Do I look okay, do you honestly think that I'm just the slightest bit okay?? Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

His face dropped even further, frown very visible. Yet, he didn't look angry. He never did.

"Look I- I don't know what's going on, but do not take this out on me. I love you, you know that, but screaming will get you nowhere. I'd know."

The words didn't quite register in your mind, you tried your best to wiggle out of his grasp, but the more you struggled, the tighter he held on. His volume rose the more he spoke.

"Running away won't fix this, Schatz. We need to talk this out this time."

"Let go of me."

"No, this happened before and I gave up then, but not now."

"Please."

Uncontrollable sobs left you as he sank you further into a hug, ignoring your punches and clawing.

It reminded you, no- it sent you back to the moment that started it all. Started your suffering. The katalyst, and you were trapped in that memories grasp.

"Please! I- I promise I didn't tell them anything! I c- couldn't do that please leave me alone please!"

"Oh." Königs voice audibly trembled, his grip loosening as you stopped struggling and let your body sink into him. He slowly raised his arms to rub soothing circles intk your back.

"You should've told me, Dirndl." you clung to his shirt as your sobbing slowly stopped.

"I know, it's just that- God I don't know actually... I'm sorry"

"Nein, shhh... Du musst dich für nichts entschuldigen, du hattest bestimmt deine Gründe."¹

He stood up with you, carrying the sad heap you were to the bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it? Oh, you're still really cold, maybe over a bath?"

"That sounds... Nice, thank you, König..."

"Kein Problem, Maus.² Now, what are their names?"

Translation

¹"No, shhhh... You don't have to apologize, you must've had your reasons."

²"No problem, mouse"

[incaensio]

her mood is sour today. she's slept terribly, and woke up worse, running off to see that her sister was still alive. she's cried so much she can feel her face is puffy, too, but her prep team works wonders and it's most likely she's just paranoid. she can not be blamed — not when she has to stand in front of the devil, like this. "i thought we had said no lies between us, sir." her tongue runs faster than her brain, obviously. but it's the truth. no sugar coating bullshit, it's what he had asked — demanded from her. but that has always been harder for her, and easier for him, because she has more to lose if she displeases him. president snow can say she is a beacon of hope all he wants, that she is dangerous, but katniss can not see what good that is, what good she is. all the hope she has seen lately is the same kind of selfish hope she's seen all her life (not me, not mine, please, god!) "i know i can not leave. i have a duty to the capitol, to my tributes first and foremost."

her gaze does stay too long on the pastries selection. they are marvelous, and in an amount that could feed her entire neighborhood for breakfast, which is enough to say they could spend the day with it. but the fallen victor's death comes to mind, and it's too soon. she will not let him have two victors dying under his roof in the same week. "thank you, but i've had too much to eat at the tribute center." there is a bread with a mockingjay on it, awfully similar to the one the girls from eight had shown her in the woods. it's no coincidence. katniss wants to throw up her big breakfast, but instead she swallows, hoping her face can feign ignorance. what meaning is there to a bread? she can swear she has seen his own granddaughter with a mockingjay pin, last night. "i'd like to pack some for my husband, though. he will like it, it's true. thank you again," she hates herself. she hates herself. she hates herself. "for not inviting peeta, too. i can handle this, but his priority should be the tributes."

@incaensio sent: ❛ Not the first time I’ve been held hostage. ❜ katniss + snow (OOF)

his eyes narrow, as though offended by an outlandish statement. " such hostility, miss everdeen you can leave anytime you wish. " his hand is out and gestures to the door. his words are double edged however. surely, the victor knows that going will only leave a bad taste in his mouth. their interactions were always lovelier when they got along. ( it was much more pleasant when katniss didn't push while coriolanus pulled. )

" though it'd be a shame if you didn't help yourself to some tea and baked goods. i made sure the pastries were picked up from a bakery that has tried to bring desserts inspired by your husband to the people of the capitol. " he remained seated at the head of the long dining table. expression is toxic, surface level agreeable.

[fineosaur]

"The skirt is supposed to be this short" - Gendrya plsss.

lavender kiss | m | gendrya

from this drabble challenge

After losing a bet, Gendry and Arya have to attend a Halloween party as a slutty doctor and slutty nurse. Only Gendry can't quite take his eyes off Arya once she reveals her outfit.

When it comes down to things, Gendry’s not usually quite on board or understanding of certain parties. He doesn’t understand why anyone would shotgun a beer can instead of drinking it like a normal person. 

He doesn’t understand why anyone would smoke menthols & switches when regular tobacco is perfectly fine. 

He particularly doesn’t understand why Halloween is such a big deal to university students. Yet there he is, allowing himself to be dressed up in a doctor’s outfit. 

He fusses with the stethoscope around his neck and waits for her to get ready. At least she’s there with him to look just as ridiculous. 

The Riverlands had just started to grow colder. Autumn was a solid season, none of the sweltering heat of summer and pesky bugs of spring, and none of the mornings with ice on his windshield like winter. 

Autumn suited him well. This, not quite so much. 

He lowers his eyes, taking in his reflection. The white coat he wears fits terribly, scrunching at his upper arms where the polyester tries to stretch too tightly. Inside he wears a shirt with a tie and brown slacks. 

As stupid as he looks, he does not fit the criteria of what he was asked to. 

It’s ‘slutty doctor’ and ‘slutty nurse’, remember to show some of that chest hair, Gen.

He sighs and gets himself a drink of water, knowing that he’ll thankfully have the numbing haze of alcohol later in the night. 

Gendry checks his watch and waits on her. It’s a small party, just a few of their friends, all of which will likely get on his back for being late, though it’s always her fault if they arrived late. 

After they lost their bet with Lommy and Hot Pie, Gendry had not taken it so seriously. Arya however was never a very good loser, she taunted the pair of them over the lost game, landing them where they were now. 

He guesses there’s no true difference, if they had won, he would still have to wear some absurd outfit or the other. 

Gendry’s head lifts up when he hears his bedroom door open. She walks into his living room with loud yet graceful heeled steps. 

His mouth goes dry and he takes another sip of his water. Gods, there was no way. 

“Gods, I fucking hate Lommy,” she curses at her reflection. 

Sure he hates Lommy too, but looking at her right then and there, he feels his loathing trickle away ever so slightly. 

He joins her in the living room, sure that his shock is blatant by the expression on his face. 

“Well?” 

Her tone is rough and displeased. He doesn’t take it personally at all. 

He swallows tightly and watches her twirl. He must be hallucinating on some level. The tea from earlier was one of her brother’s weird concoctions, he’s sure of it. 

“The skirt–” 

“The skirt is supposed to be this short,” Arya interrupts him quickly enough. “Apparently women taller than 5’5 don’t exist.” 

The frown on her face is exaggerated by her thick, dark brows. They make her glistening grey eyes look colder than they are. 

She turns to check the skirt from the back in the mirror. It looks layered, making it appear puffy like the ball gowns he’s seen on tv. It’s tacky yet exquisite.

Arya finally meets his eyes and her frown dissipates. “Gods, you look constipated,” she mocks. Her heels click as she approaches him and he feels himself grow redder. 

“Just feeling hot in the tie,” he lies. 

“It’s supposed to be slutty doctor, remember,” he curses her for bringing it up. This close, she’s able to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. This close he can smell her and the floral scent she’s wearing. “See, now that’s better. If I have my whole arse out, you should be able to show some cleavage.” She jokes.

It’s impossible not to stare at her arse when she mentions it. Gendry scolds himself internally for being so vile to his best friend. 

“Gendry!” 

He realises she’s caught him and his eyes shoot up to hers. Arya’s completely forgotten her grievances and an amused expression crosses her face. 

“Yeah?” Shame reddens his cheeks further and he rubs the back of his neck as she walks over to him. 

She has a knowing grin on her face as she gets closer, making his chest grow tight. 

“You’re checking me out,” Arya accuses him. 

Gendry can’t help but smile and give a small laugh. “Arya, your arse is out, I can’t help it,” he defends himself. 

“Is that how you speak about women?” She taunts him. 

“I wouldn’t care to look at any other woman’s arse.”

It slips out stupidly but she hears it.

She’s closer than she was before. And even if she’s in platforms, she’s still a head shorter than he is. 

They’ve never spoken about crossing the line in their years of friendship, despite the comments they get so often from friends and family. It would be catastrophic, he tells himself. 

But it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it… almost every time he’s with her. And every time he’s not. 

“Arya?” He asks as she gazes up at him with a smile.

Gendry hesitates. Neither of them has had anything to drink yet, this would be them acting with sober, rational minds. 

How bad could it really be? He asks himself.

“Gods, you’re teasing,” Gendry tells her with a joking gasp. He makes up his mind and pulls her by her waist. “What are you waiting for, Arya?” He asks her with his lips only an inch away from hers.

He sees the excitement tint her eyes, growing darker than he’s ever seen.

Arya kisses him first. He’s more than ready when she does so. He groans on her lips and holds her tighter.

Gendry’s hand goes down to squeeze a handful. He doesn’t care if he’s moving fast. It’s perfect and smooth, even over the fishnets she wears. 

She pulls away to kiss his neck and he drops his head back. His head swims with grief, lust-fuelled, delicious grief. 

“Are we really doing this, Arya?” 

He meets her eyes as he asks the question. If she says no, he would take his hands off her in a heartbeat. But the tug in his heart and the evidence straining in his slacks hope she doesn’t. 

“Can we afford to be late?” 

Gendry doesn’t even bother to check his watch. “Fuck if I care,” he answers swiftly at her assent. He takes her into his arms once again, this time lifting her off the wooden floors and depositing her onto his sofa. 

He lets his eyes wander her body. He stills at her face, taking in the sweet smile on her lips. Her hair is in a tight ponytail at the crown of her head behind ridiculous costume details. 

Gendry gets to his feet, staring down at her and getting rid of his coat. “As hot as you look in all this, I need it all off,” Gendry tells her as his fingers undo his buttons. 

Arya bites her lip with a smile and gives him a nod. “Take them off me,” she demands instead. 

He takes a deep breath in and throws his shirt to the side. He gives her a wide smile and joins her on the sofa once again, taking her in his arms and kissing her with no remorse.

[dulceateez]

𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡!𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳

𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 

it wasn’t anything extraordinary, nothing out of the ordinary from him. he’s a gentleman. always has been and always will be. he treats everyone with the same amount of respect and love, but this time was different. after a surprise practice fire drill, you rush along with your classmates into the bitter fall wind, hugging your arms close to your chest. your legs shivering and lips trembling. you mentally scold yourself for wearing such a thin outfit. but here comes your hero; with a big hoodie in his hand. you slip into the clothing and wallow in his cozy, floral, manly scent. you look up at him to thank him but his arm wraps around your shoulders and brought you closer to his body. your cheeks turned crimson and you melt into his warmth, forgetting about the harsh cold; “y/n-ah, how can you wear such an outfit when it’s so cold outside! you need to dress warmer now, keep my hoodie for when you walk home today.” 

𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 

you didn’t know him prior to this interaction; heard of him. yes, of course you’ve heard of him. everyone has a crush on this boy and you understand the appeal. still, you’ve never felt the butterflies in your stomach when he flashes a smile in the direction of you and your friends. at least not until that subtle touch you felt on the small of your back as he passed by. who knew the crowded hallway could feel so empty after experiencing the seonghwa effect. what made your heart race was when he turned to flash you a smirk so devilish that it sent you straight to heaven. did you just fall for the more unattainable guy in this school? yes. do you regret it? no. you felt your mind warp into one like his followers.’ perhaps you dressed yourself up more and paid extra attention to your actions after the encounter; something you’ll never admit to yourself or anyone else. you want to feel his effect once more and that’s exactly why you fell for him. 

𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 

he’s the sweet boy next door, an eager puppy that always awaits your arrival, stalking your movements with child-like admiration. he finds you absolutely beautiful, since the day he moved in, but you’re taking longer to come around. but tonight changes the way you view him. your day was stressful, tear inducing even, and you just want to lay in bed and snuggle your favorite stuffed animal. the puppy analyzes your movements from afar and springs into action when you stomp right into your room as opposed to going into the kitchen for a snack like always. you lay in a puddle of your own self-pity when you hear thuds against your windowpane, you pull back the curtains and look down to see the homey boy smiling up at you with a bag of your favorite chips in hand. he gives it a shake, as if he’s coaxing you, you open the window up for him to climb into and he wastes no time in engulfing you in a bear hug. you replace the golden retriever plushy with him. as the two of you lay, not saying a single word, your heart starts to beat fast against his stomach; “y/n? are you nervous? do i make you nervous! you make me so nervous but i love it.” 

𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 

how can someone not fall for such a sweet little human? his hair is fluffy like cotton candy, cheeks puffy like mochi, eyes shinning brighter than the hard chocolate coating on candies. while his voice is as deep as the ocean it seems, his kind words contrast his tone. you often dreamt about the feelings of his lips; are they soft like clouds or do they send you to them? there was never one moment that solidified your attraction to him. from the first time you saw him, you’ve only had eyes for him. however, when you saw him giggling softly with his group of loud friends. the stark contrast between their bold and loud behavior and his gentle nature makes your heart go crazy. you suddenly became jealous--wanting to be the reason behind his laughter and his smiles, wanting to be the reason why he’s so bright and cheery. perhaps one day you will be. 

𝘴𝘢𝘯 

dimples. his cute little dimples. a dimpled boy like him never goes unnoticed. that’s how you noticed him, his cute smile and even cuter dimples. he sat across from you in the library once, taking notes from his textbook and writing them down on notebook paper. you admired him from afar. he was doing the same thing, raking his eyes over your body and face. finally, you built up the courage to introduce yourself to him and your fixation on his grew into a crush just by the way his eyes looked up at you: charming and hopeful. he removed his backpack from the seat next to him and invited you to sit down with him, a welcoming smile the whole time. while the two you studied independently, he kept sliding silly drawings under your fingertips. that’s when you knew for certain that you fell for the dimpled boy. and you fell for him hard after he asked you, “wanna go out and get a coffee or something after?” 

𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 

who knew being burnt by your newly bought cup of coffee could end so sweetly? you’ve long forgotten about the burning sensation when you locked eyes with the empathetic set of eyes that stared back at you. annoyed? yes. but  how can someone stay mad at an innocent face like his? you’ve seen him around the campus, always thought he was attractive, but a handsome face doesn’t leave and impression on you. however, him stripping out of his hoodie to give to you, leaving him in a very thin white t-shirt, made your heart swoon. he panicked upon seeing your skin turn into red. not knowing what else to do, he gently took your wrist and guided you into the nurses office where he stood by you every step of the way. even offered to take you to the hospital; but you two settled on him buying you a new cup of coffee...of course he joins you as well. 

𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 

the cockiness he has drives you crazy in the worst way possible. you hate his smirks and hate his abrupt laughter. what you don’t hate is how friendly and social he is--you’re envious of those traits. he treats everyone like he’s their buddy and makes sure everyone is included somehow. you’re more on the shy side and an easy target for bullies to pick on, that’s why you didn’t believe him when he spoke so kindly to you. but the moment that made you realize that your heart has fallen for him? when he scared off the bullies. you’ve never seen this side of him; snarling teeth, fist balled, veins on his neck prominent with anger. after seeing you on the brink of tears after having insults thrown your way, he can’t just sit around and enable this behavior by not saying anything. the friendly, but somewhat annoying, facade disappears. he shakes the guy by his collar, venom being spit on his face. once he scared the man out of his wits, he turns to you and approaches you softly, gently grabbing your hands; “has he been bothering you lately? i’ll make sure he never even looks in your direction.”��

𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰

such a sultry voice with high notes that reach the gods surrounding the earth, how can someone just move on from this type of singing? it was an immediate attraction to the anonymous man behind the honey voice. you began to wonder what he may look like--setting your expectations higher than the notes he is able to sing. you never built up the courage to peek into the music room and steal a glance and you always chickened out on staying after to see who leaves the room. it wasn’t until the day of the school’s choir when you found out who the voice belonged to. the quiet kid steps up to the mic and begins singing; your ears perked up instantly. the voice so familiar and you knew from exactly where. he stared at you as he sang the sweet lyrics, never breaking eye contact despite his solo ending. you felt alone in the audience, like everyone has disappeared and now it’s just him serenading you, warmth is all you felt. 

◌ 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ◌ @blaqpinksthetic​ @tinkerbellwoo​

[rainbowtransform]

HI OKAY SO THIS IS MY SECRET SANTA GIFT FOR @peppsta. I gotta tell you, I couldn’t decide what to write so here’s what you get: deaged Dream & Techno and Phil. I hope you like it Pep :D

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

Dream watches the man step into Puffy’s home. He’s like a demon, black and red and he waved at Dream before he went inside. He smiled really big, too, and Dream swears he sees sharp teeth and something blue glinting in the sun. It’s kinda weird considering he’s never seen anyone go into Puffy’s home except for the creeper who looks through him. The Creeper who greets him constantly with “prisoner” and if Puffy didn’t call him Dream, he’d almost think that’s his name.

Dream’s also seen two teenagers who both look at him with fear and hatred, but Dream’s learned to shrug that off anyway. Different worlds always look down at homeless kids, especially ones that aren’t even from them naturally.

There’s also a tall man in a jacket and fluffy hair that watches him sometimes, never for too long. He usually pulls out a pack of cigarettes, too, and lights one before walking away. The first time Dream saw him, he explained it to Puffy and she told him that he couldn’t play outside for weeks.

He hates being locked up. It brings back memories that he doesn’t quite remember. (There’s the creeper man and man with a beanie, holding weapons and smiling while Dream cries.)

Dream feels the bark of the tree underneath his fingertips, and he snaps out of whatever he was on. The tree’s not going to climb itself, and Dream won’t let anyone see him being too scared to do it. 

(Sometimes, he thinks he sees the other man watching him too. He flips a coin, but Dream never tells Puffy about him. That guy’s all Dream’s imagination.)

Puffy gives him a coat, gloves, and a hat. “You’re going to stay with Techno for a while,” she says. “There’s been a little change of plans.” Her voice is tight, like she sometimes is when Dream’s too stubborn, and doesn’t want to come inside. 

“Why?” Dream asks and Puffy turns to stare at him. 

“Just… for once, don’t question it.” She says. “Just do what you’re told and everything will be fine.”

Dream barely has the heart to tell her that, actually, no it won’t be. Not asking questions is what got him into this world in the first place, and not asking questions is how he ended up with Puffy as his ‘legal guardian’ (crap, if you ask him).

Not asking questions also doesn’t tell him where Sapnap is. But he nods, and plays along because he has a feeling that if he doesn’t then they might never let him see where his brother is at. 

Puffy gives him lunch, steak and potatoes and then goes into the other room to text someone on her communicator. Dream pokes at his food, upset, and ends up pulling his own out to text someone. Anyone.

You whisper to Sapnap: Where are you?

You whisper to Sapnap: Pandas, I’ve got to know. How am I going to save your dumb ass?

You whisper to Sapnap: Come on, don’t make me track you. You know I can

You whisper to Sapnap: Please?

You whisper to Sapnap: Fine. I don’t like you either, then.

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

They meet the man-in-the-cloak at the start of the Nether portal. Puffy told him to keep his coat off until he gets to the Arctic. The Nether is hot, but neither of the adults seem to care about it. Dream hasn’t been to the Nether since he and Sapnap tried to speedrun and gotten lost.

He looks around. It’s a pretty sight, he thinks. The ghasts float around, waiting for either a player or something else to come across their vision; hoglins and piglins roam around the entire place, and the pathway that’s built toward the guy’s place is clear.

“Dream,” Puffy says sharply, and Dream immediately snaps back to attention. “Be good for Techno, okay? This is only for a couple days, and then I’ll come to pick you up, alright? Promise me.”

Dream nods, makes a promise that sounds hollow to even him, and Techno and him both say goodbye to Puffy. She just nods at both, hands Techno a note, and then turns and goes back through the portal.

Dream waves goodbye, and Techno starts walking. Dream goes to walk next to him, and he looks around the Nether again.

“Who made the path?” 

“Bad and Puffy.”

“Oh.” There’s silence for a moment.

“I haven’t met Bad. I think I saw him once, though.”

“You’re not missing much.”

“Oh.”

They keep walking, and Dream sneaks looks at Techno. He’s tall, taller than anyone Dream’s ever seen; and he’s seen the beanie man. Techno keeps his footsteps steady, and his hand is on his sword, eyes glancing back and forth, seeing if anything’s amiss in the Nether.

Dream doesn’t know why anyone would want to hang around the Nether. It’s a beautiful place, but a boring one too full of mobs that hate you and it’s just easier to be out in the Overworld.

Techno swings and kills a piglin before Dream can even blink. Techno doesn’t even flinch, and he keeps walking.

Dream swallows and follows the man.

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

The Arctic is a welcoming cold after the entire Nether, and Dream picks up the snow that he’s been eyeing. There’s nothing else to do with it, and it numbs his hands. Techno waits at the portal’s entrance, watching Dream pick it up and examine the place.

“Put on your coat,” Techno tells him. “It’s nice right now, but it’s going to get colder and I’m not giving you mine.”

Dream puts everything Puffy gave him on, but he doesn’t zip his coat up just yet. Techno starts walking away from the portal toward the mountain that’s across from them. He climbs up, checking every few times that Dream’s not falling behind or lagging (which he often is), and dragging him back to the matter at hand.

Techno even pushes Dream into a snowbank after he throws a (very soft, he swears) snowball at Techno’s head. Techno says nothing most of the time, but he does roll his eyes when Dream isn’t doing what he’s supposed to.

“I swear Chat,” Dream hears once. “He’s literally a toddler.”

Dream stops playing around.

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

They come across the last crest, and Dream’s shivering. The coat does nothing, even zipped up, for warmth after a couple of hours in the snow. The house comes into view, and Techno speeds up, muttering something about seeing someone. Dream follows him and looks over to the woods, and swears he sees someone in it.

He shivers, and moves a little faster, stopping by Techno’s side as he rubs a polar bear’s head and cooing words to it that he immediately stops when he notices Dream. The house’s door opens and a blond haired man steps out. Techno waves at him and goes to climb the steps to the house while Dream follows, slightly concerned because he wasn’t told about anyone with blond hair. 

“Hey mate,” the man says. “Whose this?”

“Dream,” Techno says dismissively. “Is it my turn to cook dinner?”

Phil shrugs. “That’s Dream? I thought so. I did it last week, right?”

“I thought Ranboo did it last week? Yeah, he’s a kid now apparently.”

“Huh. Wonder who the fuck did that. Did he really?”

“I don’t know, Phil, that’s your thing to keep track of.”

“Techno.”

Phil ends up taking Dream’s coat and hangs it up before Techno ends up showing Dream to his room. There’s a dresser, bed, nightstand and a closet but it’s mostly empty. 

“Change out of your clothes, they’re wet.” Techno says. “Dinner will be in an hour, and then you’ll have to take a bath afterward.” He disappears before Dream can ask any questions. 

Dream sits on the bed and begins picking at a loose thread on the bed, wondering how everything has been changed in barely a day. He’s been moved from Puffy’s house, which looked warm, and she was usually nice, to someone who doesn’t like him. 

Dream lays down on the bed, and closes his eyes. He wonders if he’ll see the Beanie man or the Cigarette Man here anywhere. 

He wonders if Sapnap will text him back.

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

Dream shoots up in bed and throws off the blanket, stumbling toward the window. It opens easily and Dream almost gulps in the fresh air. The want to throw up slowly ebbs away and Dream wipes his own tears and takes another deep breath.

He goes back to the bed and lays down again, letting the air wash over him. He opens his communicator, to see if anyone’s texted him. 

No one has, but that doesn’t stop Dream from texting Puffy.

You Whisper to CaptainPuffy: Hi

You Whisper to Captain Puffy: I had a nightmare.

You Whisper to CaptainPuffy: I opened the window

You Whisper to CaptainPuffy: And took a bunch of deep breaths

You Whisper to CaptainPuffy: I layed back down, too

You Whisper to CaptainPuffy: I don’t know what else to do :(

Dream frowns when she doesn’t reply, and goes to text her again before his door opens. Dream hides the communicator and then closes his eyes and tries to even his breathing. The person walks into the room, and Dream tries to peek at them through his eyelashes. It’s an Enderman, or well, it looks like one. 

Their eyes are purple, glowing as they stare at him, and they look black and white in a suit. They walk further to the side of his bed before going to the window, closing and locking it. Then they turn away, and walk out of the room 

Before they leave, it says “Rᒷᓭℸ ̣. ℸ ̣ 𝙹ᒲ𝙹∷∷𝙹∴ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓭ⚍リ ∷╎ᓭᒷᓭ.”  and closes the door.

Dream opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. 

He does not go back to sleep.

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

Techno comes in, and flicks the blanket off Dream. “Phil made pancakes,” he said as an explanation before leaving. Dream blinks, and then gets up and walks to the kitchen. Phil has eggs and pancakes already on a plate and he gives it to Dream. “Don’t make a mess. You’re what—six?”

“I’m eight.” Dream says. 

“Eight?”

“Yeah.”

Phil sits down, and looks at him. “You weren’t always eight were you?”

“I don’t remember being any other age.”

“You don’t remember being seven, or six?”

Dream shrugs. “I don’t know.” He said. “I think I do.”

Phil shrugs. “Okay.” He says and goes back to eating.

“For next time, if you’re going to open your window just leave it open a crack. The fire’s usually on and it’s better to keep it either closed or almost closed.”

“Did you send that weird guy into my room?” Dream asks.

“What weird guy?” Techno announces when he enters the kitchen, sitting down and picking up his fork. 

“There was like an enderman hybrid thing that came into my room and closed my window.” Dream explains, cutting into a pancake with his fork. Techno and Phil look at each other and frown before Techno shrugs. 

“I think you were dreaming. I mean yeah we have an enderman but his name’s Edward.”

“But he wasn’t an enderman, he was like a hybrid, he had purple eyes and everything.”

“We have an enderman hybrid but he doesn’t have purple eyes.” Phil says. 

“You’re sure you didn’t imagine that?” Techno asks. “You’re a kid. You’ve got a big imagination don’t you?”

“Techno,” Phil says.

“He is,” Techno insists and Phil laughs. 

“He needs to take a bath, Techno.” Phil says then. “Go bring the fucking water.”

“You were supposed to take one yesterday,” Techno tells him. “But you fell asleep ‘cause you’re like… a child.”

“Shut up, Techno,” Phil says. “Dream there’s some more clothes that I got you in your drawers, so go grab some of them and you’ll take a bath and get dressed.”

“What happens after?”

“Mmm, we’ll show you how to do some chores around the house.”

Techno stage-whispers to Phil “I don’t think he can do much, he’s really short.”

Dream frowns. He can! He’s a big kid—that's what Puffy would tell him every time she’d put bandaids on his scraped knees. 

“I can do a lot!” He says.

“Uh huh.” Techno says. “You’re like… five.”

“Eight.”

“Eight?”

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

He takes a bath and puts on clothes that are too big for him, Phil towel-dries his hair and then shows him how to put bowls and cups into the dishwasher. He also shows him how to remake his bed correctly, and to shows him how to tightly lock his window, and even how to keep it so if the wind hits it won’t blow it completely open. 

“But don’t keep it open for long, mate,” Phil says. “Who knows what the fuck it out there.”

“What?” Dream almost squeaks.

“Well, there’s wolves and polar bears and phantoms,” Phil says. “They can do a lot in the dark especially when no one’s watching. So if you want to keep it open, sure, but not for long.”

“Okay,” Dream said, wide-eyed and keeping an eye on the window. 

“Okay.” Phil says, and ruffles his hair.

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

Two days after, Techno ends up taking Dream outside to feed the dogs. Techno gives him a small bucket and tosses food out of his own for them who crowd and bark. Techno whistles, and most of them flock toward him. Dream tosses his own out slowly, watching Techno throw his own out. A puppy comes nosing around Dream, sniffing and bumping into his leg. 

Dream giggles before offering another piece of meat to them, who eats it and starts licking his hand. 

“I’ll let you name her,” Techno offers. Dream jumps and the puppy jumps back and loops back to a bigger dog who sniffs and lick her head. The puppy slips between the dog’s leg and crouches, watching Dream. 

“She doesn’t have a name?”

“Not yet.”

“I don’t know what to name her.”

“There’s a lot. Persephone, Demeter, Hades, Athena. Arlo.”

“Arlo?”

“Yeah.”

“I like that name.”

“Is that her name then?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Arlo, Sky, here.” He whistles and points down. The older dog nudges the younger one and goes to Techno and sits down. Sky sneezes, and Arlo follows but doesn’t sit. Techno turns to Dream, and nods at him. “Tell her, here.”

Dream follows the movement, and tells Arlo “Here?”

“Don’t act like it’s a question. You’ve got to say ‘here’. Try again.”

“Here.” Dream says. Arlo follows, but she doesn’t sit down like Sky did. She stands underneath his hand and huffs. “Sit.” Dream tries, and Arlo looks back to the older dog, who barks. She turns back, and sits down.

“Good job.” Techno says. “But they stay outside.”

“Techno!”

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

There’s a woman with pink hair that is humming in the kitchen, mixing something. Phil and Techno are nowhere to be seen. Dream watches as she mixes something else into the batter before he feels someone’s hand ruffle his hair. Phil gently nudges him toward his room again, telling him about wanting to tell Niki–whoever she is–something important. “Only for grown ups.” He says.

Dream goes. But Dream’s never been a person who follows all instructions like he was meant to. He closes the door, and makes sure that someone can hear the creak of the bed before he sneaks up to press his ear against the door. 

“That’s Dream?”

“Yeah, something happened in the prison, and Puffy said Sam showed up one day to her house, sleeping kid and all.”

“He was a kid in prison?”

“He doesn’t remember anything, apparently except being younger.”

“How old is he now?”

“He says he’s eight.”

“Phil–”

“Niki, Techno said he wanted to keep him for a couple more days.”

Stay? For how much longer? Dream backs away again and takes a few deep breaths before turning on his heel and going to the window. It’s the only real solution. If Puffy can’t get him, then he’ll go and get her, and they’ll go home where Drista will be waiting and everything will be fine. There’s a brief moment of thought before he goes back and grabs his coat and then opens his window and climbs out. He closes it and then turns to head into the woods. 

Arlo follows him while sniffing at the ground. She lets out a tiny bark, and Dream shushes her. He can’t get caught now. He doesn’t put his coat on until he’s deep into the woods and shivering.

He slips his arms into them and zips it up. He keeps going, but he climbs up the trees and wipes his hands on his pants. The snow coats his pants and he scowls at it. He jumps from the tree to another, and almost falls before he grips the branch and climbs back onto the branch.

He’s got to be more careful if he’s going to get to the other tree. Arlo woofs softly down, and follows him to the next tree.

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

Techno finds him thirty trees later. Dream’s fingers are numb but he pretends not to hear Techno calling his name. There’s a few dogs next to him that bark at each other until “quiet down, guys,” comes from Techno. Dream hears barks and howls as another group of dogs come from the trees and circle the tree, sniffing it. Arlo nuzzles against another dog and barks. The dog barks back, and licks Arlo.

“If you didn’t have those dogs you wouldn’t be able to find me.” Dream looks at Arlo, and hisses “Traitor.”

“Dude,” Techno says. “I can see–Chat, I can see him–I can see you. And I can hear your teeth chattering from a mile away.”

“No you can’t.” Dream says and presses his back against the tree.

“Yes I can,” Techno says. “What are you doing out here?”

“I don’t know.” Dream says.

“How don’t you know? You literally are climbing the trees. You opened and closed your window, you have to know.”

“I don’t want to stay here.”

“Uh-huh. And who said you were going to?”

“Phil.”

“Phil’s an old man who forgot me in prison. He’s senile.”

Dream says nothing. Arlo whines down below, and scratches the tree, looking up at him. 

“Okay okay fine. Yeah I was going to keep you at my house for a while longer. But it’s only because Puffy isn’t texting me when she’s going to pick you up. Thought it was easier that way.”

Dream keeps his back pressed against the tree and shakes his head. “I think you’re lying. She’s been texting me back.”

“Oh, really, what is she saying?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up.”

Techno sighs, and leans against the tree’s trunk and shakes his head. “You’re just going to get frostbite out here.”

“I’ve got a coat.”

“You’re in the arctic.”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay. Then I’ll stay with you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Too bad. I’m here to annoy you until you come back home.” Techno pulls out his communicator and Dream sees Phil’s contact before Techno texts something quick and puts it back into his pocket. The dogs around him whine and circles around them. Dream watches as they begin digging into the snow and Techno whistles at them. They stop, and sit up to stare at him before turning around and barking. 

Dream giggles as they chase their tails. He glances down at Techno looking up at him before turning his nose up and starting to frown. Techno doesn’t move except to scratch at one dog’s head and talk to someone that Dream, apparently, can’t see.

“Who do you talk to?” Dream calls down.

“If I answer, can we go home?”

“No.”

“You don’t deserve to know.”

“You’re boring.”

“Says the guy who wants to live in the trees. Like, c’mon.”

“I don’t want to live here. I want to go back to Puffy’s.”

“You can’t, she isn’t picking up.”

Dream is silent, and he presses his face against his knees. He tries to ignore Techno underneath him, cooing to the dogs and talking to the invisible person.

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

It takes about two hours before he climbs down and Techno looks at him. “Ready to go home?” He asks, and Dream shrugs. He’s cold and he’s hungry and Techno is not going to leave him alone, apparently. Techno stands up and begins walking. The dogs follow Techno’s feet, yipping and panting while Dream follows close. He watches as the dogs close around him and wonders what would happen if he tries to run.

“They’re voices, in my head.” Techno says, suddenly. His hand creeps over and scratches over one dog’s head.

“Who?”

“Isn’t that the answer to your question? Who do I talk to?”

“Oh.”

“Oh? What’s ‘oh’?”

“I didn’t expect that.”

“What did you think? That there was someone there that I was talking to?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re dumb.”

“You’re dumb.” Dream kicks the back of Techno’s knees and he almost folds, grunting. 

“How are you so strong you’re literally five.”

“I’m eight.”

“Eight?!”

(There is no response from Puffy. Dream moves on. It’s what he’s best at, what he did when he was homeless on his own World with only his sister to talk to. She’ll either come back, or she won’t.)

[hyunverse]

BUNGA (FLOWER) | FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

gender neutral.

summary; you’re megumi’s dream person.

note; i wrote this bcs my birth name is actually a type of flower ugh the self indulgence also i like butterflies. also inspired by a song called bunga by masdo. i recommend listening to the song while reading. bunga means flower in malay!! also pls open the gif for better quality.

YOU REMIND MEGUMI OF A FLOWER. white orchids; they symbolize purity. and that’s exactly what you are to him.

fushiguro megumi remembers this one day when he and tsumiki had went to a flower garden together. he didn’t know why tsumiki suddenly felt like visiting a garden, but he followed anyway. he observed as his sister looked at the flowers around them, a smile never leaving her face and her eyes were practically sparkling. it felt nice to see his sister actually enjoy herself, especially after their parents got up and abandoned them, leaving tsumiki with all the house chores.

“look at all these flowers!”, tsumiki caressed the petals with her fingers, thumb gently gliding over the flowers, “they look so nice, don’t you think so megumi?”

megumi didn’t reply, he opted to stand beside his older sister. tsumiki explained the symbolisms of the flowers she knew of. the raven head looked stoic, as if he wasn’t listening to any of her words but the truth is, he was. he found the symbolism behind the white orchids particularly interesting. it suited the orchids’ physical appearance. white and innocence just made sense.

as the siblings chatted (though it technically was one sided on tsumiki’s part), a cat walked towards the duo. the ball of orange fur purred and nudged it’s head on tsumiki’s legs, immediately getting the teenage girl’s attention. she kneeled down, her previous smile growing wider.

petting the cat, she looked up at her younger brother, “aren’t cats so adorable?”.

“yeah,” megumi uttered. a lie. he wasn’t a big fan of cats, he found them annoying. dogs are better, that’s what he believed in but he didn’t have the heart to say that to his sister. not when she looks the happiest she had been in a while.

“and the weather’s really nice today!”, she added, eyes glancing up at the sky. the sun was glaring right into her eyes, so her pupils shrunk. she didn’t mind however, she had always loved sunny days. the sunlight shone right above their heads, and megumi didn’t like it. he could feel drops of sweat trickling down his back, causing his shirt to cling onto his skin. megumi much prefers when it’s cloudy, shades of grey in the sky, the perfect weather for staying at home and reading books.

even so, he just nodded, “mhm.”

shortly the sun started to set, spreading orange hues throughout the sky. flocks of birds returned to their nests, and so the fushiguro siblings made their way back to their abode. on their way tsumiki stole glances at her brother, letting out a dry chuckle everytime she notices the lack of expression on his face.

“you should smile more you know, megumi”, she ruffled his erratic hair, “you won’t get much friends if you keep on frowning like that”, she teased.

he grumbled, “i don’t care if i don’t have friends.”

megumi thought it was ridiculous. why would it matter, anyway? he’s fine being alone. people are bothersome; they’re too loud and they stress him out. especially the stupid punks in school who thinks they could do whatever they want. megumi simply shrugged and pushed his sister’s words out of his mind. scratch smiling and being likeable.

yet here he is, smiling at you. over no particular reason too.

currently, he’s walking along a beach with you. you; dressed up in a white sundress, a pair of sandals in your right hand. the sand burns under fushiguro’s feet but he couldn’t feel it over the fast thumping of his heart, he couldn’t feel the heat when his whole skin is tingling. he trolls behind you, walking over the footsteps you made. your sundress flows to the rhythm of your walk, flying slightly up when the wind blows your way, exposing the plush skin of your thighs. fushiguro looks away from your figure, his fair complexion tinted with blush.

you’re his best friend, he’s not supposed to look at you like that.

“it’s so nice here, megumi!”, you call out to him as you stand at the edge of the sea. waves crash, they trickle up to your toes. with a smile you hold up your hand for megumi to hold.

bashfully, megumi walks up to you and takes your hand in his. he’s reluctant, for he dislikes his hands. they’re cold and filled with callouses. so when you grip his hand as though you didn’t intend to let go, when your thumb rubs against his, he feels less insecure of his hands. the sensation of your hand in his is hot, it burns; however it feels nice.

megumi fushiguro hates warmth, but if it’s your warmth, he’d enjoy burning in heat.

the sand by the sea doesn’t feel hot on your feet. the waves get bigger and bigger; till they reach up to your ankles. you giggle because it tickled, the sound of your laughs reaching megumi’s ears. he turns to his side to see you crouching down, collecting the water in your hands.

that’s when megumi concluded, your whole existence screams purity.

a week later megumi meets you again. sometime at 11pm, by an oak tree—your usual meeting spot. the oak tree is large, it’s impossible to miss it. you stand under the oak tree, allowing dried leaves to fall onto your head, getting stuck in your hair. you know megumi would get all the leaves out of your hair. he does it everytime. he’ll pick out all the leaves out of your hair while lecturing you, though his words enter one ear then out from another. no matter how many times he says “i can’t do this all the time”, even he himself knows he would.

from afar megumi watches his best friend run around the flower field, chasing butterflies. your hair gets swept away by the wind as your hands stretch up to the sky, desperately trying to get a butterfly to land on your hand. you’re wearing a jumpsuit, the white color of the material truly brought out your skin tone. your complexion is glistening, and it makes megumi’s heart throb.

“they’re scared of you, y/n,” he finally says, putting both your hands down. the butterflies fly away from your sight, and you pout.

“but they’re so pretty,” you sigh, watching as the butterflies choose to fly anywhere but on your fingers. and then one lands on top of megumi’s shoulder.

your eyes widen, holding the sides of megumi’s figure to make him stay still. megumi could see sparks in your eyes when you admire the blue butterfly. soft is the expression you wear on your face. he likes it on you. that cute expression of yours makes megumi fall five times harder for you even when he knows he shouldn’t.

“you’re like a flower ‘gumi. it likes you.”

ridiculous, he thinks. you’re the flower. it’s obvious by the way your body moves under the moonlight, and how insanely beautiful you are.

fushiguro megumi doesn’t say anything in return, as always. he rarely does. if possible, he wants to avoid you from finding out just how in love he is with you.

after that day, you never show up under the oak tree, a few minutes distance from jujutsu high. he’ll wait for hours long only to be disappointed.

--at least not until his birthday comes, about a few months later. his face turns pale once he spotted you. you wait by the jujutsu high gate with a wide smile on his face, as if you didn’t ghost him for three months.

"glad to see you doing okay," the apple of your cheeks seem more prominent when you smile, megumi feels an urge to kiss them.

"i haven't seen you in so long," megumi mumbles, "happy to see you here today."

you grin and hold up your hand for him to take per usual, and didn’t mutter anymore words until the two of you reach a café in the outskirts of tokyo.

“nice café,” the raven comments , glancing at you. you’re wearing a puffy sleeved white blouse now—honestly, do you only own white clothes?

“found it on instagram”, you mutter, “i thought you’d like it. happy birthday, megumi.”

megumi smiles for the first time today. as a jazz song plays, he eats the birthday cake you purchased for him quietly. the cake tastes delicious (to be fair, anything you buy him is perfect) because it’s not too sweet. the fact that you remember his preference makes his smile grow a little wider.

you hum to the song and rest your head on his shoulder. it seems like the two of you are the only ones in the café—a much needed privacy. you’re usually touchy with him, and he prefers affection to be private. typically they make megumi blush, and he doesn’t want people to witness him all flustered.

“did you miss me, megumi?”, he replies to your question by nodding and placing his hand on top of yours.

serenity is this feeling, megumi thinks.

at the corner of the café stands an antique grandfather clock. it’s sounds are so loud, they resonate the whole environment. megumi suddenly becomes hyper aware of the sound, there’s a pounding in his head. the sound becomes louder and louder, to the point where megumi couldn’t feel your skin under his. he shuts his eyes close, an impossibly bright light glares his eyes.

“fushiguroooo!”, an annoying voice yells. itadori’s voice, megumi is certain.

the pounding in his head slows down. his sapphire eyes flutter open, and he realizes the light he saw was sunlight rays peeking through his blinds.

“seriously fushiguro, we’ve been calling you for an hour now. hurry up, we’re going out to eat in five. to celebrate your birthday”, megumi looks up to see nobara standing behind itadori. 

they’re both leaning against his door frame. itadori is dressed in a yellow hoodie, while nobara rocks a coat over a turtleneck. the female sorcerer holds her toy hammer tight in her grip, her eyes boring through megumi’s figure. by her posture, megumi guesses she was about to hit him with the squeaky hammer if only he didn’t wake up sooner.

fucking menaces, they could’ve left him to sleep for a little more. he hasn’t seen you in so long, he wanted to sleep in to spend time with you.

finally rubbing his eyes awake, the boy looks at the vase of orchids sitting on his nightstand. he sighs before standing up.

megumi will find you someday, he promises. if you’re a flower, he’ll gladly be the butterfly.

✉ taglist: @aliteama @dearsukuna @cybergoo @hanniemilk @ariasann @soulasdarkascoffee @okusetomura @eidotheiapriv @maat-the-prescriptive @etoilezone @elipres @scarednekozz @iridescentkitsune @crapimahuman @nectar0sw33t @hq149 @bluedelphinium @bokutos-babyowl @behan @tdntu0 @sunaluvs @guardianangelswings @fairywriter-oracle @inu-makki @erinisbadger

tagging; @candleohappiness , @haru-senji <333

[shorkbrian]

Jerk

Oh Jesus y’all I can’t handle these thirsts they’re making em flustered as heck oh no.

oh frick but really doe Bakugou is soooo mean and he’s probably the type that’s into degrading and humiliating his partner, totally has dacryphilia and can’t get off unless you’re crying big, fat, salty tears. He honestly likes you, likes having you around and enjoys your additions in class discussion. But you’re just so easy to bully, he can’t help himself. He tells you it’s your fault, if you put up more of a fight he’d back off. If you didn’t just take his insults and jabs at your character lying down, he’d leave you alone. But he never would. nasty dude.

(College au lol)

TW - noncon, NSFW, handjob, crying, Bakugou is not nice but what's new.

Sometimes he’ll corner you on campus, knows you have evening classes and waits to haul you behind the building as soon as your class ends. Talking to you in a quiet, dangerous voice as he forces you back there, his hot hands gripping your arm (far too tightly), his erection brushing against your ass with each agonizing step.

“Hey (Y/N), you little bitch, did’ya miss me? No? Too bad.”

“You better shut your whore mouth, don’t want the entire campus knowing how much of slut you are. Saying “stop” isn’t going to make me do anything but fuck you harder, stupid bitch.”

“What’re you gonna do, tell someone? Who’s gonna believe a pathetic little extra like you, hmm? I’m their quarterback baby, they can’t afford to lose me. No, you’ll fucking do whatever I say.”

Once behind the building, pressed against the wall, he’ll slap your face, once, twice. Red paints your cheeks, and you’re already crying at the sting. Bakugou just grins, enjoying every second as he squishes your face in his hand, bringing his face close to yours. So close, you can feel each hot puff of air on his every exhale. So close, you can see the beauty of his ruby red eyes, darker maroon flecking the bright iris. Pity Bakugou was so mean.

A beat passed, the two of you just looking at each other, breathing each other’s air. Then he kissed you, mashing your lips together, squeezing your jaw until you opened your mouth, let him inside like you always did.

When he pulled away, you were gasping for air, hand coming up to wipe at the tears streaming down your face. Bakugou huffed, before planting both hands on your chest and pushing. You let out a distressed cry as you were shoved backwards, loosing your balance and falling down into the dirt. You’d probably have bruises later. Who were you kidding, you were with Bakugou. Of course you’d have bruises later.

The blonde crouched down, cocking his head to the side as he watched you, eery smile on his face. You didn’t like that look. You scrambled backwards, pushing at the dirt and scuffing your hands until your back hit a wall. Bakugou stayed where he was.

“You’re so fucking stupid, only thing you’re good at is being a shitty little toy for others to push around. You realize that? That’s all you are. Nothing. Worthless little pussy on legs.”

His words stung, and you had to scrub at your eyes again, wiping away the fresh wave of tears. In doing so, you didn’t notice him stand up, stalk closer, until he was towering over your sitting form. When he “tch’ed” you jumped, looking up.

“Get the fuck up.”

You hesitated.

A hand grabbed your hair, Bakugou’s face twisting into a snarl.

“Now.”

You rose as quickly as possible, finding yourself face-to-face with your aggressor once again. Well, face-to-chest. Then you were flipped around, shoved against the wall of the building as hands began kneading at your chest.

“Mmm, shit baby, you’re always so damn soft.”

A gasp escaped you when he started pinching, grasp becoming firmer and more demanding until it hurt, the man pulling at your chest now. The hard, considerable bulge of his erection was humping against your ass slowly, as if Bakugou was savoring each little thrust of his hips.

“So easy. Bet you would bend over for anyone who asked, wouldn’t you? Slut. You’re just a little cockwhore, ain’t that right?”

He took a few steps back, pulling you with him until he could bend you at the waist, still grinding against you. But in this position, his cock was pressed against your clothed cunt, delivering delicious friction to your clit. You resisted the urge to wriggle your hips in order to chase that feeling. “Hey - “  A slap landed across your ass, and even through your jeans, you could feel it burn. “I asked you a question bitch. Answer me.”

You whimpered.

“Y-y-yes Bakugou..... I am.”

“You’re what? I didn’t quite hear that last part. ”

You could hear the sneer in his voice, wincing at the pressure as Bakugou groped at your chest.

“A-a cockwhore.”

“Fuck yeah you are, I can feel you getting wet down here.” He pulled away from your body, lending you relief for a half a second before he smacked your cunt, hard. “You’re so desperate!”

He was gleeful as he turned you around again, pushing you into the wall. He was always pushing. Pushing over your books the first time he met you, pushing your boundaries, pushing for you to come up to his dorm while his roommates are out, pushing your sanity.

You shuddered as the blond unzipped his jeans, groaning as the zipper pressed against his dick as he pulled it down.

Closing your eyes, you swallowed. You didn’t know what he was going to do next, didn’t want to see the manic look on his face as he decided which part of your body to get off on today.

You weren’t surprised when you felt his hands grab yours. He pushed himself flush against you, and you knew without looking that his cock was standing up proudly, bobbing against his stomach. If you breathed in too far, expanded your lungs, your could feel it twitch against your abdomen. You tried to take short breaths.

His hands guided yours to wrap around his dick, and the second you felt the hot flesh touch your hand, that’s when the waterworks really started. You were crying uncontrollably as Bakugou forced your hands around him, thrusting upwards shallowly, head dropping to your shoulder with a choked-off groan. He wasn’t squeezing your hands too tight, enjoying the soft, loose grip for now.

When the man grew impatient of this, he let go of one of your hands, reaching up at swipe at your face. He was trying to wet his hand with your tears.

‘C’mon (Y/N), keep crying.”

You were bawling, tears dripping off your chin, snot beginning to flow from your nose. Just like Bakugou liked it. He kept on wiping at your face, collecting the tears and snot and drool, before rubbing his hand on his cock. Then he’d make you jerk him, testing to see if it was wet enough for his comfort. The more time passed, the more tears fell.

It took a bit, but finally Bakugou was satisfied with the amount of wetness coating his cock. Grabbing your free hand again, he guided it back to his cock. When you struggled to rip our hands away, his grip just tightened, crushing your digits between his hands and his cock.

There was no preamble, no gentle beginning. Bakugou was thrusting like a mad-man, head once again on your shoulder. You could hear him moaning softly, above the slick sounds of the messy handjob. It was sickening. 

When his hips kicked up another notch, plump balls smacking into your wrists with each thrust, you knew he was close. It took just a few more frantic pumps of his hips before Bakugou was spilling over, hot cum dripping out, leaking onto your hands and dripping down to your shoes.

You tried to pull away again, letting out a desperate sob as Bakugou kept your hands anchored, his hips still moving, almost grinding himself up into your hands. His breath was stuttered, heavy and panting in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, oh that felt damn good.”

Finally he released your hands. 

Reigning back in your sobs, you looked at them, fingers dripping and palm wet and sticky with the mans cum. You hated him so much.

The sound of pants being zippered drew your attention, head snapping up to look at Bakugou. He was watching you intently, wiping his own hands against his jeans. A sigh of relief. Usually he tried to fuck you, or get you off. It looked like tonight he would be satisfied with just a handjob. You were going to go shower until your skin peeled off, then sleep for a day or two, classes be damned.

“Wipe it onto your slutty little cunt.”

...

“What?? B-b-bakugou you-”

“Wipe it onto your. cunt.”

He leveled you with a glare, hands crossing over his chest. You were frozen.

“Geez bitch, do I need to do it for you? Just fuckin’ wipe that shit onto your pussy, it’s not that hard.”

Trembling, you obeyed, wincing was you stuffed your hands past your jeans, past your underwear. You cringed when you felt how wet your slit was, how inflamed and puffy you felt down there from Bakugou’s teasing rutting earlier. Bakugou watched with a smirk as you pressed your hands against yourself, doing your best to wipe off his cum. 

When you finished, the man looped an arm around your waist, causing you to squeak in alarm. You recoiled from his touch, breathing hard, but he wouldn’t let go.

“What, you thought you were done? Thought a fuckin’ lame excuse for a handjob would satisfy me? God - “ He snickered loudly, beginning to pull you along, forced to walk beside him “ - You really are a stupid slut.”

You bit your lip, tears still wetting your lashes. It was uncomfortable to walk with the amount of wet in your underwear, the thought of Bakugou’s cum just sitting there making your stomach roll, tensing.

“Can’t wait ‘till we get back to my place; shitty roommates are gone for a few days, thank fuck. Can finally try edging you all night, use your body like a toy and shit like that. Fuck, I’m excited.”

You were going to throw up. 

[onecanonlife]

Wilbur has never had wings. He has long since resigned himself to that fact. However much of his father's blood runs through his veins, it is not enough to grant him that gift.

Wilbur comes back to life, and his back begins to ache.

(word count: 6,141)

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

It’s stupid, but when his back first begins to ache, he assumes it’s old age.

The thing is that he doesn’t have any real frame of reference for what constitutes as old and what does not. His father is old, but his father has lived for literally thousands of years. Technoblade is not quite so old as that, but Technoblade never dies is more than just a catchphrase. Tommy is young, he’s sure of that much, but Tommy has days where he wakes up and his head and ribs won’t stop aching, remnants of that third death that have never quite left him, so Tommy is perhaps not the best gauge of what pains are and are not normal for a young person.

Wilbur doesn’t think that he’s particularly old. He’s still not yet thirty, unless he counts the void years. Then, he’s older than thirty. Then, he’s older than his own bones. He tries not to dwell on the void years, because dwelling on the void years gives him urges that he’s still learning how to ignore. Urges like informing everyone gaily and at length when the inevitable heat death of the universe will be, or giving everyone a graphic description of what happens at a microscopic level in the human body when it picks up a stomach bug.

The point is, he’s not very old. But he feels it, a lot of the time, so when he wakes up one morning and his back is killing him, he shrugs it off and goes about his day. It hurts, sure. It hurts kind of a lot. But he’s had worse. The void took him apart molecule by molecule and put him back together again so many times that he learned to love it, and compared to that, this is nothing at all.

Life in the Arctic has been—nice. It’s been nice, reconnecting with Phil, cautiously rebuilding his relationship with Technoblade. Tommy comes to visit a lot, and it’s odd, trying to juggle the kid he thinks of as a brother with his father and his father’s best friend, especially when there’s so much bad blood between the lot of them, but they make it work. And Ranboo is around a lot, and he’s a nice kid, and Niki stops by every so often, and it’s good to see her. No one else is very interested in coming to visit him, which is understandable, but she always smiles at him, and he knows that they’re still friends. Which is good.

He’s fairly sure that the four of them, Phil and Techno and Niki and Ranboo, have some sort of secret club thing going on. They always give him different answers when he asks about it; Niki blinks and tells him it’s a book club, and Ranboo does not blink because he does not have eyelids, but Ranboo claims that it’s a pet grooming society. So they’re lying to him for sure, and he thinks he could know the truth if he wanted to, if he tapped in just a bit more to those bits of void that have nestled in his heart. The temptation is strong, sometimes, but he resists.

He doesn’t want to mess with a good thing, is all. He’s found a peace here in the snow that he didn’t think he would be able to find outside of the grave. He is hesitant to call himself healing, but most days, when his head cries out for blood and fire and burning the world and himself along with it, he can push the idea away and carry on without trying to act on it. That is healing, perhaps.

Captain Puffy tells him it is, anyway, and he’s found that Captain Puffy tends to know what she’s talking about.

But so. His back hurts. And he expects it to stop after a while, because even old person aches surely can’t last forever. Except, it doesn’t, and in fact seems to only get worse over the next few days, to the point that he starts to worry that it’s going to begin interfering with his functionality. Which he doesn’t want. He needs freedom, freedom to go where he wants, even if where he wants to go usually isn’t very far. It’s the principle of the thing. He does not do well with confinement, with spaces that are too enclosed, and if this pain ends up laying him out in his room, he’s going to go insane.

Poor choice of words, that. But the point still stands, so he makes a decision. The decision is this: he’s simply not going to allow that to happen.

So he slaps a smile on his face and carries on with his business, and does his best to ignore the way his spine starts to feel like it’s cracking open and stabbing into the surrounding muscle. And he is a very good actor, if he does say so himself, so for the most part, no one seems to notice that anything is wrong. Phil asks him if he’s feeling alright, but he’s able to deflect by claiming fatigue, and Phil accepts the explanation easily. And the pain only increases, does not let up at all, but it’s a gradual sort of increase, so before too long, he figures out how to adjust to it. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

And then Tommy stops by for a visit, and they’re chatting outside for a moment, and Tommy says something stupid and ridiculous, so he smacks him gently upside the head, which Tommy takes objection to. And then they’re wrestling, which makes the pain flare a bit, but it’s manageable, especially since he gets Tommy pinned in about four seconds flat, which. Is concerning, a bit, because he is not particularly strong, physically, so if he can pin Tommy, there are a lot of other people who could also definitely pin Tommy.

But he’s probably not thinking about it the right way. This was a play fight, not a real one, and it’s difficult, sometimes, to remember that the server is currently at peace.

He pins Tommy, both of them panting and grinning in the snow, and he doesn’t let up until Tommy admits defeat. And then he gets to his feet, and here is where he makes the error: he turns his back.

The snowball impacts him right between his shoulder blades. He stumbles forward with the force of it, and his knees hit the snow.

Tommy is already cackling, is calling him a bitch. Wilbur barely has time to think oh, shit before something spasms, and it’s like something has taken a knife to him from the inside out. He hears a strangled little scream, choked and agonized, and barely recognizes the fact that it’s coming from him, because black spots are dancing across his vision and his lungs aren’t inflating properly and he can hardly think.

“Oh, come on,” Tommy says, a wide smile still in his voice. “Don’t be such a pussy. I didn’t even pack any ice in.”

He can’t reply. The agony is centered where the snowball hit, but it’s radiating outward, and the whole of his back feels like it’s burning and freezing all at once, and he shudders violently, breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He clenches his fists, braces them against his thighs, pressing down hard enough to leave bruises.

“Wilbur?” Tommy asks, more uncertain. And then, Tommy is there, kneeling down in front of him, and his face goes all wide and panicky. “Wilbur? Holy shit, are you dying? Are you having a heart attack? A stroke? Are you freezing to death? Have I just killed you with a snowball? You’ve got three lives again, right? Where are you hurt, Wil, come one, you’ve got to tell me, you’ve gotta tell me so I can fix it, are you—”

“My back,” he manages, “my back’s been—my back’s been hurting, it wasn’t your fault, it’s just—�� He cuts off with another gasp as all the muscles in his back convulse, tensing and untensing and tensing again and sending a wave of stabbing pain through his nerves.

“Oh, Prime,” Tommy says, “oh, Prime, alright, you’re gonna be fine, big man, let’s just get you inside, alright? Can you walk? Nevermind, just—” Tommy hooks his hands underneath his arms and hauls him to his feet, slinging one of his arms across his shoulders as soon as he can get them in the right position. He lets out a little whimper, and hates himself for doing so, just a little bit, but fuck, that hurts.

The stairs are a trial. His feet drag, and he would trip and fall flat on his face if it weren’t for Tommy. But then, they’re inside Phil’s house, and Tommy sits him down on Phil’s ratty little couch, and he immediately curls in on himself, hands gripping his forearms as if the pain will go away if he hugs himself hard enough.

“Okay, shirt off, Wil, let me see,” Tommy says, and he blinks dumbly for a moment.

“What?” he asks, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

“No, just—you’ve got to let me see what’s wrong, yeah?”

“‘S old man aches,” he mumbles, but doesn’t try to fight it when Tommy begins manhandling his arms, pushing at his coat sleeves.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy demands. “You’re not that old. Who do you think you are, Philza fucking Minecraft? Come on, just let me see—” He finally manages to get the coat off, and then the shirt, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh as it’s exposed to the air. Tommy freezes.

“What?” he asks. “What is it, what’s—”

“I don’t,” Tommy says, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t, Wilbur, I don’t know what this is, I don’t—holy shit, that’s actually kind of scary. Um! No, nevermind, don’t pay attention to me, just keep um, breathing! Breathing is good! Breathing exercises!” He breathes in and out, loud and exaggerated. “See, just like that. I’m just gonna—”

And he puts a hand out, and before Wilbur can stop him, he rests it on his back. Light and cautious, but still too much, and Wilbur stuffs a fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming. In the same motion, he flinches away, violently, but the damage has already been done. Because the contact hurts, a lot, but what’s worse is the horror, because in the split second that Tommy’s hand touched his skin, he could feel the way that it is wrong, that his back is wrong, that there is something terribly wrong. Because there are ridges protruding from his back, long and thick and raised, and it’s wrong and it hurts and Tommy’s right, actually, this is scary, he’s fucking scared.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tommy is saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I won’t do that again, I’m so sorry, Wilbur, are you okay? Please be okay, please—”

He nods, though it’s more like he lets his head fall and then painstakingly brings it back up a little.

“Okay, I think we need—” Tommy says. “I think that I don’t know what to do, so I think we need—” He takes a deep breath. “Phil! Phil!” Loud, panicked, earsplitting. Wilbur winces. “Phil! He is home, isn’t he? Phil!”

A second passes, and then, drifting up from the basement, a distant, “Tommy? Everything good?”

“Phil, get up here right fucking now!”

There is a beat of silence, and then there are footsteps, quiet at first but growing closer, and they are quick, hurried. Phil must have detected the genuine fear in Tommy’s voice, because Tommy and Phil generally stand on very shaky ground with each other, so while Phil will typically indulge Tommy in his whims, it depends on the day as to how far he’ll go, how quick he’ll respond. But it’s only a moment or two before Phil’s head pokes out of the floor, his hands clinging to the ladder, his face twisted in confusion.

“What on earth is the matter?” he asks, and then breaks off as his eyes land on Wilbur, who—he must be a sight. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. But terror flashes across Phil’s face, and he is crossing the floor in an instant, hands hovering over him, fluttering helplessly, though thankfully, he doesn’t touch.

“What’s wrong, where are you hurt, what—” The words come out in a jumbled flurry, but he stops just as abruptly, and Wilbur knows that he is looking at the horror show that is his back.

“It hurts, Phil,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Phil says, sounding—still concerned, but perhaps marginally calmer? “Okay, you’re going to be alright. I think I know what this is.” He settles himself on the couch right next to him and opens his arms, and Wilbur doesn’t hesitate before leaning forward, slumping against him. Phil seems to know better than to put any kind of pressure on his back, and instead places one hand on his arm and the other on the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Tommy demands.

“Tommy, I need you to run over to Techno’s and ask him for something for pain, and something for sleep. Can you do that for me?” Phil asks instead of answering, and perhaps Wilbur should be terrified by the implication that he’s going to need either of those things, but the promise of some kind of relief overrides any kind of trepidation.

“Like fuck I will,” Tommy says, “Not before you tell me what the fuck is wrong with him!”

Another convulsion wracks him. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, and tastes blood. His breath is hitching, and he can’t stop it.

“Tommy.” Phil’s voice is sharp, but then, Wilbur feels rather than hears him sigh. “It’s wings, I think. I don’t understand why now, but I went through this a long time ago, when I was very young. I recognize the signs. So Tommy, please.”

Tommy makes a surprised little sound. Wilbur isn’t looking, has his face buried in Phil’s shoulder, but he can imagine the look on his face: the slack jaw, the wide open eyes. And then, there are rushed footsteps retreating, and the door slamming, and Tommy’s muffled voice calling out for Technoblade.

And then, Wilbur processes what Phil just said.

He twists his head around so he can see his face, regretting it a moment later. Any kind of movement seems to make the pain worse, and he has to take a moment to tremble through it.

“Wings?” he whispers. “How?”

He’s never had wings.

If he were going to have wings, he would have gotten them a long time ago. He remembers nights spent as a child, staying up and hoping for feathered appendages to somehow miraculously appear on his back, just so he could be more like his dad. He remembers the crushing disappointment when he finally accepted that no matter how much divine blood runs in his veins, it is apparently not enough.

But he did accept it. He accepted it years ago. There is absolutely no reason for him to be developing wings now, as a fully-grown adult, but Phil sounds so very sure, and his back hurts so very much, and perhaps that’s consistent with actual appendages trying to sprout out of him.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “I’ve never heard of it happening so late, even in avians. Which, I’m not exactly, but I got mine when I was a kid like they do, and I don’t—I don’t know, Wil, I really don’t, but I remember what it was like, yeah? I know what to do. It’s gonna suck for a little while, but you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he croaks, “okay—” and then he has to stop talking, because the pain flares again, bright and intense and holy shit, but it’s worse this time, because now that he knows what’s going on, he can feel them. He can feel things inside of him, pushing against his muscles and his skin in ways that absolutely should not be possible, and there is too much of him to be contained in his body, and there are things inside of him trying to escape—

It’s almost like the way he gets when he thinks about the void too hard. Except not, because when he does that, he feels the urge to dissolve away, gently and peacefully, to let himself back into the quiet that is not quiet and the darkness that is not dark, where all the knowledge of the world is at his fingertips, too much for a mortal brain to contain and remain sane. That is not this. This is his own body trying to explode. There is no peace, no dissolution; it’s messy and physical and Prime he just wants it to stop.

He shifts in Phil’s grasp, fruitlessly trying to find a position that takes the pressure off, a little bit. It’s no use, of course, because he can still feel something moving under the skin of his back, and his vision whites out, and when he comes back to himself, he’s shivering, shivering and shaking and sobbing in Phil’s hold, and he doesn’t remember when he started crying but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Phil is keeping up a steady stream of soothing nonsense, and he latches onto the sound of his voice like it’s the only lifeline he has.

And then the door bursts open, and Wilbur doesn’t bother trying to look, but there are two sets of footsteps, not just one.

“Here,” Tommy says, panting, and there are several thumps, and several clinks, glass on glass.

“Oh god, don’t—and he’s doing it, he’s just dumping all of that on the floor. Don’t break those, Tommy, those aren’t splash pots. Have you never handled a potion before.” Technoblade pauses for a moment. “So, what exactly’s wrong with him? The child was making no sense at all.”

Wilbur thinks he detects a note of concern. But he’s not thinking clearly, and it’s always hard to tell anyway, with Technoblade.

“He’s got wings growing in,” Phil responds, voice clipped. Wilbur feels his hand leave his arm, and he whines at the loss of touch. And then another spasm, and he whines again, pressing his face harder into Phil’s shirt.

“Oh. Huh. Yes, that makes perfect sense, of course.”

Phil’s arm dips a bit, and Wilbur finds himself being moved, his head gently tilted back. Phil’s face comes into view, pale and blurry.

“You want to drink this for me, Wil?” he says, and then there is glass at his lips, and he parts them immediately. He doesn’t like being knocked out, doesn’t like the loss of control that comes with it, but if he has to be aware for another five minutes, he’s not going to be able to keep himself from screaming aloud.

He swallows, grimacing at the taste. The effects start hitting right away. His mind detaches from himself, and the pain drains from him. Every muscle goes lax.

He exhales.

“There we go,” Phil murmurs, “there we go. It’s gonna be alright, Wil. I’ll be here the whole time. You’re gonna be okay.”

The world falls away. He lets it. He trusts his father to catch him.

----------

He wakes up a few times, and each time, it hurts. Phil is always there, and usually, Tommy too, and sometimes Techno, and he can barely move but they always see that he’s awake, and they give him a potion and he’s under again, and he’s glad for it, because those moments of consciousness are a spiral of pain and confusion and his thoughts flying apart because he barely understands what’s going on or why he’s hurting and he just wants it to go away.

And then there is the time he wakes up and he thinks somebody is cutting his back open, and he can feel his own blood on his skin, sticky and hot, and he thrashes, trying to get away, and that makes the pain so much worse, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is inhuman, and he fights until a potion is poured down his throat and it’s back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and people are talking in low, hushed tones. He can’t make out what they’re saying. He cracks his eyes open, and it’s Phil and Technoblade, deep in some discussion, both looking terribly concerned. He decides he’ll ask what’s wrong later, and then closes his eyes and goes back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and some part of him is moving, and he doesn’t understand what it is because it’s not any of his limbs, not his arms and not his legs, and it feels alien and foreign and his back feels like it’s been shoved under a woodchipper and then tossed through a paper shredder for good measure, and he’s not aware enough to know why, so he panics. There is a bit of the void that still dwells in his heart, and he calls on it, cries out to it, and it answers, comes rushing in around him, and his mind expands to peer into galaxies.

Philza is at his side a moment later, and he is able to look at him and see all the weight of years that lie behind his eyes, and all the years that lie ahead of him, and the moment of his death, all spiraling out like a tapestry and like a mass, and the music is atonal, confused, but a closer glance reveals it to be twelve-tone, order in the chaotic lines. Wilbur is with the void again, and his heart still beats, but it’s a near thing, and he could stop it if he chose.

“Do you want to know, Philza?” he asks, words spilling from his lips like rain, like the river, like the flood. “Do you want to know when it will happen? I can see it. I can see how some part of you wants it. All our histories are like tangled up threads, but they all come to an end, and I can see those endings, Philza, I can tell you about them if you like.”

Pain constricts Philza’s face, and Wilbur doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who wouldn’t love the void and its peace and its everything.

“I know, Wilbur,” Philza says, “I know, but how about you come back to me now, okay? Come back to me?”

“We’re all little bits of code, Philza,” he informs him. “None of us are real. We’re little bits of code and words on a page and lines in a script written by our better selves. Nothing in this world really matters. We might as well have all the fun we can before the lights go out. Do you want to know when that will be, Philza? Not too long after you, Philza. Not too long at all. I told Tommy, he knows, he didn’t want to know but that’s alright, he’s better off for it, if he hasn’t forgotten.”

“Come back, Wil, come on,” Philza says, “you can do it. You’ve got a heartbeat, do you feel it?”

Philza takes his hand and places it over his heart, and—that’s right. He’s alive. He’d forgotten. The void spins, and then it tucks itself away again, waiting for the next moment he needs it, and he is left with only vague impressions of what he’s just said and a vague idea that everything hurts and something is wrong with his back and he’d like to go to sleep now, please.

“Alright, yeah,” Phil says, “here, you can have this, you can sleep. You’re doing so well, Wil, I promise it’s almost done.”

He takes the potion. Or tries to; Phil has to hold it for him.

“Okay,” he says faintly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he hears Phil say, very far away. “So long as you come back, everything’s okay.”

He goes back to sleep again. He thinks he wakes up a few more times, but he doesn’t really remember. He doesn’t really want to.

----------

And then: awareness.

The first thing he processes is that everything aches, deeply and acutely, but none of it feels nearly as bad as it did before, and not even as bad as it’s been over the past couple of weeks. It’s irritating, painful, but more than manageable, really, practically a relief. The second thing he processes is that he’s lying on his stomach, and that there is something weighing him down.

His mind puzzles over this for a moment. He tries to roll over, to see what’s going on, but something stops him, and then he remembers: wings.

He’s got wings. There are wings on his back. Growing out of him. A part of his body. Wings.

As soon as he realizes that, he becomes aware of them. And it is so very strange, to suddenly have access to two extra limbs, to suddenly have additional body parts to move about and control. It’s a feeling impossible to describe, and he has to take several minutes to process it, to try to become accustomed to it. It doesn’t really work, but he tries moving them anyway, just a bit of a flex, and—

Ouch.

He groans, shoving his face into the pillow. A mistake. That was a mistake. He’d rather like to go back to sleep now and pretend that none of this is happening.

But his vocalization draws attention, and then there is a hand on his shoulder, gently brushing him just enough to feel, not enough to pain him. He turns his head to the side, reluctantly, and Phil is kneeling beside him, his face open and soft and clearly relieved, his lips curling into a slight smile.

“Hey,” he says. “How you feeling, Wil?”

He considers this, and decides on honesty. “Bit like I’ve been caught between a piston and a wall for the past couple of days,” he admits. “Better than before, though.”

“Good to hear,” Phil says, and then his face goes a bit more serious. “How much of that do you remember?”

“Not much?” he says. “I don’t think? Impressions, I guess. I know I wasn’t having a good time. I’m glad I don’t remember it too clearly. I was out for most of it, yeah?”

“Most of it,” Phil agrees, and Wilbur thinks that perhaps there is something he’s not saying, but he doesn’t feel like pressing the matter. He can guess what it is, anyway; there is a chill in his chest, and his thoughts feel just slightly more fractured than usual, so it’s not hard to assume what might have happened. Not hard to assume where he might have gone. He’s sure he’ll feel terrible about it when everything stops feeling so surreal.

He has wings.

“It’s over now?” he asks, and winces at the way his voice cracks. “It’s done?”

Phil’s eyes do the thing where they go immeasurably soft and crinkly at the edges, and it’s love and relief and sadness all at once. “It’s done,” he agrees, and then hesitates. “You’re not gonna be able to fly on them for a while, but would you like to see?”

He doesn’t understand why Phil is being so cautious about it. Of course he wants to see. If he’s going to be put through hell, he wants to see what came of it. He wants it to be worth it.

“Usually, when wings grow in, they’re all downy and shit. Like a baby bird,” Phil says, probably in response to whatever face he’s sure he’s making. “Flight feathers come in over the next few weeks.” He pauses again, and Wilbur thinks he understands his reticence, now, understands the still-present concern.

“But that’s not what happened with mine,” he states, and Phil shakes his head.

“Yours are fully fledged,” he says. “Probably part of why it hurt so much. I don’t know why, Wil. But do you wanna have a look?”

Wordless, he nods, and Phil takes that as his cue to reach out and help him sit upright. It’s far more effort than it should be, compounded by the fact that his sense of balance feels all wrong, and that’s going to take some getting used to, he can already tell. And he’s sore, like he’s run a marathon or fought another half dozen wars all in one go, and his head spins a little bit when he finally situates himself. He closes his eyes against it, breathing in sharply.

He feels Phil guiding his wings forward, into his field of vision. He opens his eyes.

They are very big, is the first thing he notices. They would have to be, of course, to hold his weight up. Magic and suspension of disbelief only stretches so far. They are very large, and the feathers are very large, and they are very angular and neat as well, so neat that someone has to have arranged them while he was unconscious, because there’s no way that they came out looking like that.

The color, though. The color. He swallows, hard.

They are black, perhaps. They look black. But he knows on an instinctive level that they are black in the same way that the void is black, and that if someone were to stare at them for too long, they would realize as much, would realize that actually, they are not black at all, but rather some color or some lack of color that is beyond human comprehension. The void translates as black to the human mind because it is as close as the human mind can get to true perception, and most of the time, Wilbur remembers it as black, but it was not, and his wings are not, and he is never going to be free of it, is he?

On some level, he knew that. Knew that the void is in him and about him, and no matter what he does, it will never leave him completely, not after all the years he spent with it, intertwined with the infinite nothing. But now he has wings on his back, and they should be a connection between him and Phil, should be something to celebrate, but he stares at the plumage and feels sick to his stomach.

“Wil?” Phil asks. He sounds confused, sounds worried by his reaction. “You okay, mate?”

He’s not sure how to phrase this in a way that Phil will understand. Not sure that he wants to.

“Void,” he manages, voice a broken whisper. “They look like void, Phil.”

He looks up just in time to see Phil’s face crumple.

“Wil—”

“They look just like it, Phil,” he continues. “Just like it. And I know I’m not always good about, about being here, about keeping myself stable, but I’m trying. I try to ignore it when it calls, I try not to reach out to it, and when I fail, I, I try to come back, I do, I swear. I can’t—I can’t have these, Phil, they’re from it, that’s why I’m getting them now, maybe it triggered something, I don’t know, but I can’t, Phil, I can’t—”

He reaches out toward them, intending to do—something, maybe, and Phil must have a better idea than he does, because his hand darts out and snags his, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, Wil, don’t do that, okay? We can work on it, we’ll figure it out, but please don’t—”

“You’re up!”

He and Phil both freeze, and as one, look to the door. Tommy is standing there, grinning like nobody’s business, and Technoblade is lurking behind him, his face contorted into an expression that looks like he wants to murder someone but really just means he’s feeling very awkward.

Tommy glances back and forth between the two of him, and his face slowly falls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Nothing—I mean, it all went right, didn’t it?”

He blinks. Tilts his head slightly. Gently removes his hand from Phil’s grasp, and then spreads out his wings behind him, putting them on full display, as far out as he can make them go, and it aches and he’s not going to be able to hold them there for long, but it’s worth it. He wants Tommy to see. Because Tommy will know. Tommy remembers. And unlike him, Tommy hates to remember. Tommy hates the void. So perhaps this is an act of self-sabotage. That’s what Captain Puffy would say. But he does it anyway, because he wants someone else to see and understand, understand in a way he knows Phil won’t be able to.

“I’ve got void wings, Tommy,” he says, and a smile splits his face. “See them?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he flinches.

Gratification is not nearly as sweet as he thought it would be. Actually, he just sort of feels like crying.

But then, Tommy’s brows draw together. And he steps further into the room, coming closer and closer until he’s standing right up against the bed, staring at the feathers. Wilbur holds himself very still.

“I see,” Tommy says slowly, “but Wilbur, I’m not sure you do.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and cranes his neck to try to see whatever Tommy’s looking at. For a moment, he doesn’t; there’s just the feathers, void feathers, death feathers, a reminder that—

But arctic sunlight slants through the window, and if he shifts his angle just a little bit—

The noise that escapes him is small and involuntary. He hopes no one calls him on it, but that’s the least of his concerns right now. Because the colors do not change, not exactly, but if he holds them to the light, the sun illuminates the feathers, haloing their edges in gold, and there is a sheen of color running across them, a sheen that ripples and moves as he shifts them in the sunbeam, and it is a beautiful, rich blue.

And they’re lovely.

“Oh,” he says, and Tommy laughs at him, the fucking gremlin.

“Yeah, fucking oh,” he says. “You’re such a moron. They’re so fucking ace, Wilbur.”

“I think that maybe you need to work on rememberin’,” Technoblade says from the doorway, “that you’re the sum of all your experiences, and not just one.”

Wilbur stares at him.

“Oh my god,” he finally says. “That’s so cheesy. Who the hell are you and what have you done with Technoblade?”

“Alright,” Techno grumbles, “see if I do anythin’ nice for you ever again. I didn’t come up here to receive this kind of treatment. This is an outrage.”

He laughs. He laughs, from the sheer relief of it, and his trepidation is melting away like snow in the sunshine, and he can allow himself to revel in it, to revel in the wings on his back, and he is sore and tired but this is what glory feels like, maybe, and perhaps he can fly into the air and there will be no wax to drip away.

Perhaps these wings are of the void, but they are of him, too.

And he looks to Phil again, and Phil is smiling at him, warm and happy. His own wings are flared out behind him, tattered at the edges, so many feathers torn or still missing entirely, and the more time that passes, the more and more likely it is that those feathers are never going to grow back, that Phil truly will never fly again. Phil has already resigned himself to it, he knows, but Wilbur has never given up hope, will never be able to bring himself to give up hope.

“It’s not fair that I can fly when you can’t,” he says quietly, and the room goes still and quiet. Especially when it’s my fault, he doesn’t say, though he knows everyone hears it.

“Wil,” Phil says, “nothing could bring me more joy than this.”

And Wilbur hears what he means: you, here.

So he flexes his wings and revels in the ache and revels in the sunshine and revels at his family, here, his father sitting by him and his friend-protege-brother poking at curiously at his feathers and Technoblade still in the doorway, not leaving even for all his grumbling. He revels in this, revels in this life, and for a time, the void recedes entirely.

And in its wake is the sunlight.

[rulerofstars]

i love your writings! but maybe we could have some angst??? like um.. levi had an argument with his s/o before an expedition over something and they made up after they came back to the walls?

Sunsets and Mishaps

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Genre: Angst, light fluff.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood, gore, deaths.

Word count: 2,600 words.

Angel: Thank you so much for requesting and for the kind words, anon! I enjoyed writing this one. <3

 The taste of the warm, strong tea eased the coldness caused by the chilly morning of an expedition. You have the habit of waking up early and being productive whenever there is one, just to calm yourself down and have a good start before heading outside the walls and encountering titans. Being out there could have two outcomes only, the first, you’d come back alive, and the second, you don’t. Every second spent before every venture is special to you, for no one will ever know what could happen next.

An assuring warmth from the rays that slipped through the window pain sent solace through the dubious mind that bothered your entire system. If the sunrise is this beautiful, then should you be looking forward for the day?

“You’re early, (Y/N)!” Moblit greeted, sitting next to you, and Hanji who has a bunch of different food in their hand sat across you. The latter, your best friend and squad leader had notable dark circles under their eyes, accompanied by the messy hair. Staying up late for experiments, again, you thought.

A piece of bread has been shoved in your hand as Sasha, one of your favorite cadets passed by your table and greeted you with a wink, you smiled at her.

“You are, too.” Hanji scoffed at your reply and glared at Moblit.

“He woke me up!”

“Of course, you told me to wake you up!”

“Not this early!”

“It’s your normal wake-up time! You’re just sleep-deprived, squad leader!”

Because of the noisy quarrel in front, you wanted to walk away and just sleep for a little bit more. These two never seem to hear each other even when they are millimeters close, they always shout!

The atmosphere of the mess hall transitioned from light to heavy when the intimidating aura of the elite squad entered the room. Their mere presence is enough to justify the reasons why they belong in the so called Special Operations Squad, and the number of titans they have obliterated is mind-blowing and you can’t help but to wonder, are they really human beings?

A familiar back profile made your heart flutter, his undercut makes you weak, and the way he held the tea cup as if he’s afraid to break it into pieces.

So he’s up early, too.

“Aren’t you going to kiss your lover?” Hanji asked, making you blush furiously. That question was so sudden!

Moblit immediately interfered, “Lovers don’t kiss all the time, Hanji-san!” He said, earning an approval from you.

Little by little, your whole squad appeared and occupied the empty spaces available. Your eyes occasionally dart onto Levi, who’s quietly listening to the conversation of his own squad and speaks every now and then. You wanted to go to him and spend the rest of your morning with him before you set off outside the walls, but you don’t want to interfere with his time for his squad. You are well-aware of your boundaries. How you should keep your feelings out of missions and focus on the objective. You and him had talked about this kind of matter ever since you’ve started dating.

And how you should keep your relationship as lowkey as possible.

Gentle yet meaningful habits pacified the yearning that burned for the both of you, the littlest things that you make, the slightest details that he considers, is what kept you sane. After all, it was you whom he would come home to.

But, you would not deny how much it irks you. . . to see him too close to another woman, yet not being able to do something to ease the slight pang of jealousy and pain.

“You okay?” Nifa asked, noticing the glint of uneasiness in your eyes, but you quickly shook the feelings away.

To make it believable, you forced a smile on your lips and answered your friend, “Of course!”

You hated how his certain squad mate looked at him the way you do, too. You are too aware of the woman’s feelings towards your lover, and you can’t help but to feel upset. How her small actions that meant something else find their way towards Levi, and how he does nothing about it, how he lets it happen, as if he’s giving her a chance.

Trust is one of the core foundations of your relationship, but you weren’t doubting your boyfriend, you are just. . . jealous. The two of you talked about how you should be open and tell each other everything you feel without any kind of hesitation. It was what made you strong as a couple- the thick line of communication never grew weary.

-----

Preparations weren’t that tedious an hour before the expedition because everything is already put together, thanks to Erwin. Everyone’s already in their uniforms, ODM gears have been checked, so no one is really having a hectic time, or so you thought.

The four corners of Levi’s office sealed every kind of noise from the outside, encaging you both with silence that is sometimes interrupted by the sound of papers shuffling. The captain sat on his chair, facing his desk, while he scanned a pile of paperworks to sign to. Thanks to Erwin.

You sat on the chair in front of his desk, sighing and arranging the scattered papers neatly.

“Levi. . .” You started, trying to gain his attention but to no avail, he did not even raise his head to look at you, but he did acknowledge you.

“Hm?”

Thoughts pervaded your mind, doubts about yourself and the matter that you would bring up to your lover. For once, you became hesitant of the things that you would tell him, but the way your jealousy permeated through the deepest part of your heart offered you no chance to analyze if this was the perfect timing, or not.

“Petra Ral. . .” His eyes focused on you since the mention of his certain squad mate, making you grow slightly more jealous of the girl, “Her actions. . . her actions towards you make me uncomfortable,” You looked at him and tried to read if any kind of emotion slipped through his steel grey eyes, but you found nothing but nonchalance.

“I’m jealous, Levi. I just want to tell you that.” You admitted, looking down and pressing your nails on your fingers. Agitation rushed through every vein of yours, you were nervous and you didn’t know why. Maybe for how her would react or what he would say.

He stopped what he’s doing and sat up straight, staring directly into your anxious eyes, “What do you want me to do?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, tell her to stop? Tell her about us? About me?” You suggested, and your heart almost stopped when you caught the slightest glint of irritation in his eyes.

“I thought we’d keep it low-profile?” He asked, looking at the papers one more time before arranging it neatly and staring at you again, “We talked about this, (Y/N).” His austere voice sent shivers to every part of your body.

“This isn’t about us,” You muttered, looking down and avoiding his cold stares, “It’s about me, my feelings, Levi.”

A scoff flee from his mouth, making you feel like what you just said was so dumb that he could not stand it.

“You’re being unreasonable,” He spat your name like it was poison out of his lips, and you stared at him in shock. For a moment, words would not come out of your mouth. For a moment, you were frozen and you couldn’t believe what you just heard. For a moment, you were hurt.

You bit your lower lip, eyes furrowed as you stared back at him with the same intensity. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought we were supposed to tell each other things.” Sarcasm coated your voice like sugar on spice.

His fingers flew on his face, massaging his forehead, as if it was too bothersome and stressful to talk with you, “Stop being childish, (Y/N).”

“Then stop being insensitive!” You spat back, raising your voice. Your heart never beat this hard because of a different reason. The way pain and disappointment embraced you right now felt so wrong.

A sigh left his lips, as he pointed towards the door of his office. And you felt yourself drop, never have you ever had an argument so bad that he would resort to kicking you out, or parting ways without talking about it.

“I can’t deal with you right now. . . just leave.”

Tears pooled in your eyes like a puddle being filled by the chilly raindrops of a hail. He made you feel so petty. Your feelings were never invalidated, and you never thought that it would be him to make you feel like this.

-----

You gripped the end of the reins tightly as you waited for the commander’s signal to advance. Hanji questioned your puffy eyes the moment they saw you earlier, and you lied by saying that you accidentally fell asleep while waiting.

What irked you the most is the noise caused by the Elite squad and how they tease their woman to the captain. You wanted to combust so bad because you had no choice but to endure hearing them. Childish? Fine.

As Erwin shouted, you wasted no time waiting and you immediately followed Moblit, with Nifa behind you and your other squad members at the back. You rode your horse like there was no tomorrow, occasionally being told to slow down to not ruin the formation.

Once the big-ass trees greeted your sight, you shifted to your ODM gear and slaughtered every titan that came across your vision. How you are extremely offensive right now surprised your squad mates, because you were never like this before. It was as if you were angry, and hell you are.

You let your body get taken away by the emotions that overwhelmed your system, that you didn’t notice how far you got and how long you were fighting. But you did not seem to care, you were going to fight until Erwin decides to retreat. The good thing is, you knew how to conserve gas, Levi taught you himself.

Like a thunderbolt, a titan rushed towards you, jumping through the branches of trees, and catching you off guard, making a sharp piece of the wood graze the side of your cheek slightly. You hissed at the sting yet resumed slaying the titan.

Time passed by and you lost count of how many titans you have killed, the second to the last blade in your hand is now starting to get weary, and you badly wanted to kill the one in front of you. You advanced in full speed and positioned your blade in a way that it’d execute the titan in one slash, but an arm stopped you before you could cut.

“Stop it.”

Your body shook, not because you were tired, nor exhaustion is starting to creep up your body. But it was because you heard your lover’s voice. And you did not know why, or for what reason could your body react like this.

“It’s time to head back.” He whispered on your ear. His voice was nothing compared to his cold ones earlier, because this one. . . it’s warmer than the sunset.

You bit your lip, letting your emotions take over you once again and yanking your arm away from him just to get back to the formation all by yourself. Your squad mates nodded at you the moment they recognized your form, and you were greeted by the sight of several bodies of people who suffered the fate of being taken too early.

The entire way back to the walls was coaxed with the heat provided with the orange sunset. Gone was the coldness that bothered everyone in the morning, it was engulfed by the warmth that reminded you of how every expedition ends like. The only warmth that reminded you of losing someone important.

-----

On an open field is where you sat, where they had experiments with the boy- the titan shifter. Of course, you knew, you were there. In front of you was the sunset that would soon say goodbye and leave its remnants of purple and deep pink. And the scent of your favorite soap sent comfort in knowing that you are already home, freshly showered, with a piece of snack in your hand.

You felt your lover’s presence slowly approaching you, his heat was greater than anything else. But visions of what happened earlier repeated in your mind, causing you to walk away from him, away from the feelings.

“(Y/N).”

One word from him, and you halted. And you hated it.

Not a minute had passed and you found Levi in front of you, his brown jacket now discarded, and what protected him from the cold solstice was a thin long-sleeves that you used to steal from him. His hand caressed the wound on your cheek, lightly letting his fingers kiss the fresh cut, but your eyes continued to avoid his.

Because of the schedule and trainings, you were deprived of the chance to spend time together. And you would not deny that you miss it. How you would sneak into his office late at night and come back to you and your roommates’ room before dawn. How you would steal food from the mess hall and share it with him. Or the late-night walks that you have done with him, pretending that no one would see. And you were sure that someone did.

You were never a secret, but you were extremely private.

“Look at me.” He said, his hands still cupping both of your cheeks. You pouted, not wanting to look at him because you knew how frail you get when it comes to him.

Your eyes met his, and it felt like you haven’t for a while.

“Look at me,” He repeated, and you stare directly into his, letting him read the emotions you have felt earlier. You looked at him as if you were complaining to him about himself and his actions earlier. “I’m sorry.”

Your lips trembled. Cheeks flushed and puffed, lips pouting, while warm tears filled your eyes once again. And Levi kissed your tears away even before they could paint your pretty face.

“Don’t cry,” He whispers, gone was the harsh tone that he used on you earlier, gone was the Levi that made you feel invalidated and puerile, “Fuck! Don’t cry. I’m sorry, baby.”

Sultry kisses on your forehead, and how his voice burned in apologies saved you from the cold breeze that wanted to touch your skin. He held you so close to him that you could feel how fast his heart beats for you, muttering how sorry he is, how he told not just Petra but his whole squad about you, how much of an asshole he was.

“D-don’t do that again. . .” You sobbed, face still buried in the warmth of his chest while your hands gripped his shirt.

“I promise.” He responds immediately, wiping the sadness and pain you have felt for hours and replacing it with the fire that dwells within him; the fire that you both made.

You were beneath the moon, and tonight, it was more beautiful. It was your witness, along with the stars that smoldered like a fiery heat. And within the coolness of  the dusk had you both realized, that the once searing sunset has kissed you both goodbye.

[mypoisonedvine]

Home for the Holidays | Robert Pronge (aka Mr. Freezy) x reader

summary: robert is tired of pretending to be normal, he’s tired of the shitty holiday known as christmas and he’s really fucking tired of watching his adorable, innocent next door neighbor without getting a real taste.  luckily, he has a plan to solve all three of these things.

word count: a bit over 5k

warnings: smut (noncon, vaginal and anal), gunplay, bondage, stalking, kidnapping, slight-to-medium breeding kink, innocent!reader, lots of degradation, blood mention, pain kink, spitting, implied age gap (??? kinda), cringy and disturbing dirty talk, maaaaybe the darkest thing I’ve ever written… proceed with extreme caution

Robert hated the holidays.  The fact that it was too cold to sell ice cream was a factor, sure, but he didn’t like anything else about them either— the cheesy music, the stupid advertisements on TV, the gaudy decorations everywhere… he wasn’t sure if there was anything he liked about this time of year.  Getting gifts would be nice if he actually had any friends or family to do that with.  Giving gifts sounded like too much fucking work anyway.  He was sick and tired of this stupid holiday and the way it started sooner every year, too.  

This year, when he heard Jingle Bell Rock on the radio for the first time of the season, something snapped.  He wasn’t going to just sit idly by and let the holidays come and go.  He wasn’t going to avoid and half-tolerate all the dreaded ‘cheer’ and ‘spirit’ like he had for the past few years.  No no, this year was going to be different.

This year, he was going to get a Christmas present for himself: you.

He’d been watching you for a long time, since the day you moved in next door.  It wasn’t often that a young woman lived alone around here, and for good reason.  Still, you had this air of blissful ignorance about you— you never caught him spying on you, for one, and when he was spying you were always off in your own little world, listening to your records, daydreaming about god-knows-what.  He wished he could know, because he figured it was something innocent and wholesome.  

You weren’t all innocent and wholesome, though.  He’d seen you doing the things you did when you were totally alone (or at least, you thought you were), late at night, cuddled up under the covers…

He wanted to see more, though.  He wanted to see everything.  And he was tired of waiting.

He was on his porch when you came home, and he waved; you waved back, your hands obscured by big fuzzy mittens.  Damn did he miss the summers, when you would wear tank tops and short shorts and wash your car in the sunlight.  Now you were all bundled up in coats and scarves, and even though you looked sort of adorable like this, he missed that perfect body he knew you were hiding under there.  

You were bringing groceries in from the car, and he could see you had a few bags in the backseat.  “That’s a lot to carry, lemme help you,” he offered as he jumped up from his seat and walked towards you.

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve got it,” you dismissed, but you started to stumble and he had to catch you so you wouldn’t fall and drop your stuff.  “Thanks,” you mumbled awkwardly as you caught your footing— you felt so good in his arms he could barely stand it.  

“What is all this?” he asked as he glanced into the bags.

“Oh, uh, just Christmas stuff,” you explained.  He furrowed his brow as he saw you had bought enough food to feed a whole family.  

“Your folks comin’ into town or something?” he pressed, pulling one of the paper bags open to see inside.  “Or are you hosting a party I didn’t get invited to?”

“Uh, neither,” you laughed, “my family doesn’t… no, they’re not coming.  And there’s no party.  I just love cooking Christmas food and I thought, why not?  I mean, I’ll freeze whatever I can’t finish and have meals for the next month…”

“So you’re gonna make this whole ham just for yourself?” he clarified, admiring your ambition.

“Yep!” you grinned.  “I know it’s stupid, but I just love Christmas and I don’t think I need to justify celebrating it to a grinch like you.”

“A grinch?  Says who?”

“Freezy, you’re the only house on the block that hasn’t put up lights yet,” you smirked.  “It’s sort of obvious you don’t like this time of year.”

“Are you kidding?  I love Christmas!  I’m just subtle about it, that’s all,” he decided sternly.

“Really?  Are you going to see anyone for the holidays then?” you pressed.

“Uh, no, I’m sort of an… orphan, I guess you could say.  No parents or siblings or anything like that.”

“No girlfriend?” you grinned, elbowing him playfully.  

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he laughed, “I just know a few women who would be really mad if they heard me say that.”

“You’re such a dog,” you rolled your eyes.  “Will you help me carry these in or not?”

He sighed as he picked up two bags and carried them up to your porch, pushing the door open with his back to set them on your counters.  He’d been inside your place a few times— mostly with you there, a few times when you weren’t— and he noticed how much you’d changed in the spirit of the season: an enormous, real pine covered in lights and ribbons; decorative ceramic figures all over the place including Santa, elves, reindeer, and even a nativity on the dining table; stockings on the mantle, god knows who those were even for. 

You had literally decked your halls with boughs of holly.  

“Damn, woman, you went all out!” he observed with wide eyes.

“Well, I thought it would be nice,” you smiled, although it was a somber smile, “you know, Christmas like it used to be…” you trailed off as your gaze became distant.  You snapped back to reality with a little sigh, shaking it off and heading back to the car for another load of bags.  He understood that emptiness he saw in your eyes, it was all he felt anymore.  Maybe you could change that for him; maybe he could change that for you.

Aw, who was he kidding?  He didn’t care about that.  He just wanted to figure out what you were hiding underneath those puffy winter clothes.  If the smell of your stolen panties was anything to go by, it was going to be worth the wait.

//

Christmas Eve was just as boring and cold as any other day, except that it was filled with a riveting anticipation.  That was probably true for most people, but for Robert it was for something much more exciting than presents under the tree.  

Nightfall came early, it being winter and all, so it was already pitch dark outside when it was just about time for him to go over for dinner.  He considered smashing a window to get in, but then you might call the cops before he had time to explain, so he decided the easier method was just to knock on the front door.  He didn’t really care who saw at this point— besides, who’d be staring out their window to spy on their neighbors the night before Christmas?  Aside from Robert, that is.

“Oh!” you gasped when you answered the door.  The dark red turtleneck looked even better on you up close, like you’d jumped right out of a Norman Rockwell postcard— or a festive pin-up.  He didn’t wait for your approval before stepping in and shutting the door behind him, relishing the adorable look you wore as you stared up at him with the perfect mix of confusion and concern.

“I know you didn’t invite me,” he smirked, “but I figure two people alone on Christmas ought to be together, don’t you think?”

“Robert, I—”

He pulled his gun out from his belt, watching you freeze as he pointed it at you.

“I think you should start making dinner, sweetheart,” he instructed darkly.  You nodded quickly, walking to the kitchen as he followed you closely.  “What are you making?”

“H-ham,” you stuttered nervously as you turned on the stove before slipping on a cute little apron with white lace around the edges.  “With green bean casserole, and some gingerbread for dessert.”

“Sounds delicious,” he grinned, taking a seat at the bar and keeping his gun pointed towards you.  

Your hands were shaking as you tried to chop the ingredients, and he tutted a little in sympathy.  “Don’t be scared, honey, ‘m not gonna hurt ya.  It’s gonna be a great Christmas— just like the way it used to be, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you shivered, lip quivering, “I… I wish you just would’ve asked if you could have some dinner, Robert, I would’ve happily had you.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have me either way.  Up to you if you wanna be happy about it.”

He laughed as he watched your eyes start to water, a meek little sniffle 

“Aw, don’t cry, pretty baby,” he cooed, “it’ll make me wanna skip right to the good stuff.  But, let’s just have dinner first.”

You stayed quiet after that, cooking in silence as he unabashedly undressed you with his eyes.  You looked like a perfect little housewife in that apron; he wanted to see you wearing just that, so he could bend you over the counter and— 

Damn, he was already hard, just like that.  You’d always had such an effect on him.

He went ahead and took a seat at the table once you were nearly done with the meal, leaning back to let you drape the fancy napkin over his lap (and smirking when you gasped a bit, obviously noticing the bulge in his jeans).

“I hope you like it,” you offered weakly as you set his plate in front of him.

“I’m sure you do,” he grinned, picking up his fork.  “You won’t like what’s gonna happen if I don’t.”

You just stood beside him for a moment as he took the first bite, smiling weakly when he hummed in content at the taste.  “Aren’t ya gonna eat?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“I’m not hungry,” you explained quickly.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, “it’s good.  You’re quite the little chef, aren’t ya?”

“Um, I suppose…” you deflected awkwardly.

“Learn to take a compliment,” he hissed, “say ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you,” you replied dutifully.  

“That’s better,” he announced firmly, shovelling the last bite of casserole into his mouth before working on the slices of ham.  Your ability to follow instructions was a good sign for how tonight was going to go— apparently for all your naivete, you still had a self-preservation instinct.  He couldn’t wait to exploit it.

He continued his meal in silence, delighting in the way your eyes watered and your lip quivered.  “Alright, sweetie, dinner’s over,” he announced when he was finished.  “Time for dessert.”

You shivered slightly as he stood up and approached you.  “You want gingerbread?” you asked innocently.  He frowned and shook his head, watching you start to cry again as he roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer.  

“I had something even sweeter in mind,” he informed you with a low growl, taking a big whiff of your scent— that same shampoo smell he was used to by now, mixed in with the new perfume you’d gotten a few weeks ago along with the warm, spicy smells of Christmas.  “Been waitin’ so long for this,” he groaned lowly as he leaned down to stare right into your fear-widened eyes.

“N-no, please,” you whimpered, weakly attempting to twist out of his grip, “you wouldn’t—”

“I would,” he disagreed as he turned his gun backwards, whipping you across the head with the handle.  He caught you before you collapsed, and hoped you wouldn’t be hurting too much when you woke up.  But he would deal with that then.  Right now, he had a present to wrap.

//

There was a radiating ache in your skull.  You felt that first as you groggily opened your eyes.  The next thing you noticed was that you weren’t in your bed.  Looking around, you couldn’t see well because the only light was from your Christmas tree, but you could see that you were naked and bound with ropes.  Oddly enough, on top of the ropes was thick red ribbon, gathered in a big bow right at your chest.

What the fuck is going on? you were about to ask yourself, but then it all became clear.

The shadows shifted, and your neighbor emerged from them.  You struggled against the ropes as you remembered everything, realizing what was happening.  Of course you had always thought he was a bit creepy (who didn’t?) but you were nice to him and he was nice to you.  How could you have known he was this disturbed?  

“That’s my favorite part,” he purred as he stooped down to be eye-level with you.  “The moment when they realize what’s going to happen.  You were so peaceful just a moment ago, knocked out and without a care in the world, and now you’re fighting for your life.”

You whimpered into the gag as he smiled at you, running his hands over your skin.

“I mean, not fighting very well, but fighting.”

You tried to kick him as he stepped closer but the ropes made it impossible.

“I think it’s time to open my present, hm?” he grinned.  You shook your head but he ignored you, slowly pushing your legs apart and growling a little when he saw your exposed pussy, ripe for the taking.  “Look at that, you’re wet,” he laughed.  You wrenched your eyes shut, refusing to believe this was happening.  “Don’t be embarrassed, that happens a lot.  Although I’ll admit, I don’t think any of them were ever this wet before…”

You jumped when his thumb started to rub your clit, the pressure much too intense and unexpected.  He laughed at your struggle, and you could feel your walls throbbing in response to the stimulation.

“I know I didn’t need to do all this to get you in bed,” he continued his taunting rant.  “I know you wanted me already— don’t think I didn’t notice you makin’ googly eyes at me like a dumb little schoolgirl.  If I’d’ve asked you out, I could’ve had you under me after a few drinks… but it’s better this way.  You probably would’ve made me wear a condom, would’ve made me be all gentle with ya, some wholesome missionary shit,” he laughed.  “I don’t have time for that crap.  It’s so much better with your body at my disposal, and you cryin’ those pretty tears.”

The shocks that shot up your spine from the way he was touching you made you feel like your body was betraying you.  How could this actually feel good?  How was it that the fear burning in your gut was actually adding to your pleasure and not nullifying it?

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he groaned as if he were reading your mind.  “I know you love it, little girl, don’t act so innocent.  I know you’re not the good girl everybody thinks you are.  You’ve been naughty this year, haven’t you?”

Even though logic told you not to play into his twisted game, you felt compelled to shake your head ‘no.’

“Don’t lie,” he warned, “I’ve seen you.  I’ve watched you play with this pretty pussy every fucking night.”

You couldn’t watch this any more, you couldn’t look at him while he did this to you.  Forcing your eyes shut, you tried to find a place in your mind to run away to.  Instead, he slapped you right on your clit and your eyes shot open as you whined.

“Keep looking,” he instructed.  “I want you to see it.  I want you to know that it’s me.  I want you to see what I’m about to put in you.”

He stepped back and hastily discarded his shirt, making quick work of his boots and trousers, too.  Then it was just his boxers, and you could see the outline of his erection already.  You hoped it wasn’t as big as it looked, but then he grinned as he pulled the fabric down and yep, it was— you tried to squirm away, uselessly.

“Aw, don’t be scared, baby,” he pouted, “I know it’s big, but with how wet you are I bet it’ll fit like a glove.  A really, really tight glove…”

He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear, rubbing his swollen head through your slick folds as you whined.  

“Gloves can tear,” he chuckled.  “Gloves can rip.”

Tears stained the ribbon of your gag as you tried to beg him not to, but it was too late— he was pushing forward and spearing you onto him.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he pushed all the way to the hilt, and your eyes rolled back as the stinging, burning pain shot up your spine.  “So fuckin’ tight, fuck, can’t believe I waited this long to get my hands on you.”

He pulled the gag down, smiling at you tenderly when you coughed out a cry of pain.  “Please,” you sobbed, “please stop…”

“No no, babygirl, I’m not gonna stop.  I wanna fill this slutty little cunt with my come.”

Renewed sobs shook your chest as your nails dug into your own palms, each thrust somehow going even deeper than the last, somehow hurting even more.

“Want my come, pretty girl?” he pressed, refusing to let you ignore him.  “Want me to shoot my load into this sweet pussy a’yours?”

“No,” you sobbed weakly, shaking your head, “no, no…” you trailed off, chanting it like a mantra as you felt like you might pass out.

“Aw, you’re not on the pill, are you?” he realized with a toothy grin.  “Never saw any empty packs in your trash.  Are you worried I’ll knock you up?”

“Please, please don’t,” you shivered.  There was nothing quite as demeaning as having no recourse but to beg even when you knew it would do nothing.  The only thing that came close was the knowledge that your orgasm wasn’t so far off— his cock was slamming right into your spot with every movement, his hips rubbing your swollen clit, and it was impossible to avoid the pleasure that was making your walls tighten around him.

“How could I not?” he countered.  “Fuck, you feel so good, how could I not breed this dripping, desperate cunt, hm?  There’s no way I’m pulling out now when you’re squeezin’ my dick so good like this.”

“Please,” you repeated, so quiet you couldn’t be sure he heard it at all.  You could hardly breathe with his weight on your chest, black static dancing at the edges of your peripheral vision.

“I’ll be honest— I hate kids,” he growled, “never wanted ‘em, but it does sound like a lot of fun to get you pregnant.  Would you like that, pretty baby?  Bein’ full of my kid?  I’d be so nice to watch you get big and know it was all my fault.  Think of it like a Christmas gift, from one neighbor to another.”

“Robert, please!” you cried, although it sounded a lot like you were begging him for more as opposed to begging him for mercy.  You weren’t sure how that happened, except that you could feel the coil in your gut tightening and tightening and tightening until it finally fucking snapped and you choked on nothing, your walls fluttering as a gush of wetness seeped out between your bodies.

“That’s it,” he groaned, “fuck, what a nasty little skank you are, Jesus… coming so hard from being tied up and abused by your neighbor, who knew you were a total freak?”

You couldn’t say anything, you couldn’t even think as hazy pleasure flooded your brain and you went limp in his oppressive grasp.  Exhaustedly, you slumped down and let him use you— all you could do now was hope he would finish soon.

“I mean, I knew,” he laughed, “but damn… you’re somethin’ else.”

He said it with pride in his voice, as your entire body burned with shame.  How had you already given in so quickly, accepted your fate and come harder than you ever had before?  It sort of made sense that this would be more intense than what you got from getting yourself off at night (and the thought that he’d been watching you made your stomach churn), but why was this so much better than the sweet, loving sex you’d had with your boyfriend way back when, before he’d run out on you?  Why was Robert, as disturbed as he was, the best you’d ever had?

“God, you’re so wet, I can fucking smell you,” he grunted through his teeth.  “You made such a pretty mess on my cock, babygirl.”

You could hear that he was right, you could feel the wetness that had dripped down to cover both of you— the wet slapping of his balls against your ass was disgusting, yet arousing, and you hated yourself for it.

“Shit, I’m close,” he moaned, “fuck yeah, just like that.”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to until you realized you were arching your back, forcing his cock to hit your overstimulated spot directly.  It made jolts of electricity course through your veins, pleasure sizzling just beneath your skin.  

“Kiss me,” he instructed, and you were too far gone to disobey as you turned and captured his lips in a kiss, instantly accepting his tongue into your mouth.  It was sloppy and forceful and kinda gross and he tasted like Christmas dinner and cigarettes, but it made your walls tighten around him again anyways.  Something about his beard against your face made you moan a little, the sound lost into his mouth but unfortunately not unnoticed.  “Fuck, I know you love my cock so much,” he purred, pulling back only as much as he needed to to speak— he was so close that his lips brushed yours with every word, those dark eyes staring right into yours until you felt entirely helpless to his gaze.

“Please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had, you know that?” he praised, grinning as you bit down on your lip.  “Yeah, you love being my good girl, you love pleasin’ me, don’tcha?”

“I— I don’t—”

“Just nod your head, dumb baby,” he grunted coldly.  After a moment of hesitation, you nodded ever so slightly and he moaned above you.

“Fuck— gonna come,” he informed you breathlessly, “gonna fill up your wet fuckin’ hole, ‘m so close, ah fuck—”

The first pump of his cock painted your insides and you cringed as you tried not to moan at the feeling.  His come was hot and thick as it filled you, the faltering thrusts of his hips making your swollen walls flutter weakly.  It felt like it would go on forever— his weak groans in your ear, his thick cock pulsing inside you, your breathing quick and fast until it felt like you weren’t getting any air in your lungs at all.  It stopped, finally, as he sighed and relaxed a little bit.

“Goddamn,” he breathed as he pulled out of you, making you both wince.  Already you felt soreness radiating from your opening, and your face burned as he looked down between your legs.  “Look at that, what a perfect little pussy I just ruined.  It’s all stretched out and red and covered in my come,” he announced proudly.  “There’s a little blood, too, but you’ll be better in no time,” he assured with a smirk.  “Red and white— it’s sort of festive, don’t you think?”

You swallowed down the acid threatening to come up your throat— of course he was disturbed, but did he have to be so disgusting?

Again, it was like he read your mind as he grabbed your jaw and forced you to open your mouth, spitting onto your tongue before commanding you to swallow it.  Just when you thought you’d reached the limits of his depravity, he found some new way to up the ante.  What worried you most, though, was the fact that he’d already come and hadn’t left yet.  Deep down, you knew it wasn’t over yet, but you hadn’t accepted it consciously.

“Such a good slut for me,” he praised through his teeth, “I bet I can go again, fuck, you turn me on so much.”  Pulling back a bit and gripping his cock at the base, you squirmed a little as you looked at it.  “You see this?  I’m still hard.  You make me feel like a fuckin’ teenager again, I swear.”

“I can’t…” you sighed weakly, your voice sounding all cracked and whiny as it moved through your sore throat.  “I can’t take it again…”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, “I’m gonna give your poor cunt a break… so I can rape this cute little ass.”

“No!” you yelped.  “Please!  Not there!”

He slapped you quickly before maneuvering two fingers to your other hole, teasing it as he laughed at your pre-emptive wince.

“It’s not gonna be so bad, baby, I’m gonna get you ready for it first, see?  I bet you’ll love it, nasty little thing like you.”

The first finger slipped in with a little pop as the tight ring of muscle shifted to accommodate him.  You’d never had anything go up that way before, and it was nothing like you could’ve imagined.  Hissing in a breath through your teeth, you whimpered as he added a second finger already.

“Just relax,” he instructed.  “Not that I don’t love you gripping my fingers with your tight little hole, but it’ll hurt less if you just let it happen.”

You willed your muscles not to tighten even as he twisted his fingers inside you, moving slowly until he was buried all the way to the knuckle and then finally pulling back.  The third was a bit more of a challenge as he opened you wider, your fists clenching at the sting of pain.  He let his come drip down from your pussy to use as lube, which was undoubtedly the filthiest thing you’d ever experienced.  You tried to keep quiet and relax as he told you to, but your fight was renewed slightly as he pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock with your hole.  

“Please,” you shivered, “don’t do this…”

“When are you gonna stop fucking fighting it, huh?  How stupid are you?  You’re tied up on the floor, I already made this pussy mine and you fucking loved it, how much more obvious could it be that I’m gonna do this?  You’re fucked.  It’s over.  Just accept it and I’ll make it good for you.”

“This can’t be good for me,” you hissed through your teeth.

“Well, in that case,” he groaned, interrupting himself as he roughly shoved his cock into your ass.  The air was punched from your lungs as pain burned white-hot through your body— it didn’t feel like his fingers had done much to prepare you at all, with the way this hurt.  As soon as you had the oxygen needed to do so, you were crying again, loud sobs echoing around your dark, empty living room.  “I was gonna be gentle,” he taunted you darkly, “but you had to run that mouth of yours.”

You tried to choke out an apology, but it was useless as he shoved his fingers into your mouth. 

“Suck on ‘em, show me what your mouth is good for,” he demanded as you closed your lips and swirled your tongue around his fingers.  “Fuck, that’s better.  See how good it is when you know your place?”

You couldn’t really process his words, though, as you spent all your energy on trying not to think about how his cock felt in your ass.  It was like being full in a completely different way than before, like being opened wider than you knew was possible.  He pulled his fingers from your mouth and you hated the moan that spilled out after them.

“Your cunt is getting wet,” he sing-songed mockingly as he leaned back and looked down at it.  “You love it up the ass, huh?  Dirty bitch.”

You shook your head in denial (even though you could feel that he was right, at least about the first part), but he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“Say it,” he grunted.  “Admit it, slut.  Admit you love getting fucked up the ass.”

“I…” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out even though you knew you needed to if you wanted to prevent him from hurting you worse.  “I love… getting fucked—” you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat— “up the ass.”

He backhanded you, hard, right across the face.  You cried and gasped all at once, choking on air from the force of the hit.  “WHORE!” he yelled right in your face.

You sobbed uncontrollably as he fucked you with more brutality than you’d known was possible.  “Please,” you tried to beg, even if you knew it was useless, but it was totally incomprehensible as you shook with the force of your cries, hissing in breaths through your teeth to try to cope with the pain.

“Thought it would take me a while to come again, but your ass feels so goddamn good— fuck, I’m close already.  Want me to fill up that tight little ass?”

You shook your head as you sobbed, shaking violently against the confines of the ropes.  Distantly, you heard the chimes of your clock in the other room.

“You hear that?” he whispered.  “That means it’s midnight— it’s Christmas.”

He leaned in until his hot breath tickled your ear and neck, making you wish you could turn your head away more than just a few centimeters.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he purred, just as you felt his cock swell and pulse inside you.  Your eyes rolled back as you wondered if you’d ever been so full before.

It was a haze after that as he gently untied you, getting his gun out again and keeping it trained on you as he followed you to the bathroom and forced you to shower.  Force was a bit of an overstatement, though, considering your desire to clean him off of you as much as possible.  “I’m not gonna tell anyone, Robert,” you tried to calm him down as you shivered under the stream of water that hadn’t quite warmed up yet.

“Yeah, well, just in case,” he insisted as he waved the gun pointed in your direction.  “Wash between your legs real good, push my come out.”

“Not gonna matter if you knocked me up like you said,” you reminded him.  “A paternity test will be evidence enough.”

“Shut up,” he grimaced.  “Can’t prove you didn’t want it, anyway.  We both know you did.”

You didn’t respond to that, opting to shower silently instead and wincing every time you tried to clean between your legs.  You were going to be sore for days, if not weeks.

“We both know I’m gonna be back for more real soon,” he added darkly.  “Too good for just one night.”