#almost as if it were clothes covering the skin rather than skin itself. probably feels fuzzy and vague too. as for their head? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harfanfare · 2 years

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Unique Kisses: Heartslabyul!

Hearslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Riddle R. (strawberry kisses)

If it wasn’t for this situation, Riddle would consider removing strawberries from a cake a blasphemy.

Fortunately for you, and also his joy, which he could not admit to if it wasn’t the last resort, Riddle isn't sure if his judgement would be a fair one. He is drunk on the taste of strawberries and fluffy cream, but also your fragrance, which has been his favourite aroma even before he thought he would dare to confess his feelings to you.

Riddle knows he doesn’t think soberly, but also believes that Trey didn’t change a recipe for his favourite dessert.

So, it is your fault.

“You should have taken yourself a piece of cake if you crave strawberries so much,” he says, regarding how you stab a little strawberry from his tart on a silver fork. It shimmers softly with honey or frosting or whatever Trey had added. Right now, Riddle can’t remember what his favourite dessert tastes like, and it was your fault as well.

“Kitchen is too far away,” you almost sigh, but don’t do that because it’s not a reason to be disappointed. “And, by the way, you are the one eating your tart. The greater part is still yours.”

“I have an irresistible impression that my serving disappears too fast.”

“You’re such a gourmet then. You will have to take bigger pieces next time.”

You chuckle at his stern facade, face fully covered with blushes, not matching the crossed arms that were probably meant to give his figure a more serious tone.

The strawberry on the fork you put against his lips, and he - used to this, after your multiple pleas - swallows his dignity and bites the fruit enough, not to cut it in half. He blinks a little faster, a little more nervous, and can’t bear to hold your stare when you smile and put the fork aside.

And then, you bite a strawberry held by his lips. A soft crunch attends the moment where your lips brush against each other. You feel how a sweet juice fills your lips and you have to move away to not let it drain over a corner of your mouth.

Satisfied, now less frustrated with your idea, you lick your wet, slightly sticky lips.

You glance at Riddle.

It… was a surprise that he went with your idea. It was a plan to soften him up a bit and have another reason to laugh when he would scold you again for your “preposterous suggestions”.

Surely not for you to stand in bewilderment and quick-paced heartbeat when Riddle pulls out a strawberry on a fork towards you. And as his face is red, crimson almost, his gaze is tainted with warm grey.

“Now it’s your turn.”

And that was an order.

Trey C. (hand kisses)

Trey Clover is a gentleman.

He opens the door whenever you go with him. Helps to carry supplies to the alchemy room at the far end of the school. Forbids you to prepare snacks for yourself, just to serve you beautiful little tarts during a break, that can be eaten in one bite.

His love is elegant and attentive. He likes to hold you in his arms while reading books. By highlighting the most important things in notes he helps you prepare for exams. He doesn’t even complain when you rob his wardrobe and usurp his clothes. He collects - by following all the Queen's rules or while avoiding Riddle's eyesight -- and offers you roses for every greater or lesser success.

A dreamy gentleman.

The only thing that mystifies you every time, is his touch.

You always quiver slightly as he takes your hand in his and entwines your fingers. He turns it over and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand. You don't know what is more delicate: the way his fingers slide over yours, or your heart, which will probably quickly tear apart itself, not able to bear the darting beat.

It would definitely be a nice death, but more than choosing that, you'd still rather live through this moment.

Trey's lips brush against your skin and move towards your fingers. There, he places another kiss and when he finally releases your hand, he still holds you. A grip slightly tightens when you look at him bashfully.

It was a gentleman's kiss.

Or maybe not gentleman’s, but from a man who pretends. You are not sure if a gentleman would do something like that to his lady: watch her lose her mind with each kiss as she becomes more and more addicted to her gentleman who smiles with a subtle but private smile.

Even as he pulls away, you feel that the spot on your skin where he kissed you tickles you lightly.

"Good morning to you, too, I should say”, you exclaim with a big smile. But you already like that greeting very much, and you're sure Trey knows it as well, as he repeats the gesture every day.

"Ah, and that's not the reaction I was expecting," he snorted as you rolled your eyes. “You got used to this trick already. Should I stop or…” now he smiles, mischievously. Certainly not like a gentleman. “...change the offensive?”

Cater D. (kisses on the eyes)

“Smile!” and snap! With a soft sound, another photo saves itself on Cater’s phone. He immediately enlarges it with his fingers, brings the image closer to your faces and clicks his tongue with dissatisfaction, but doesn’t remove the photo. “No, that’s not it. We look lovely, but- Sweetie, come closer!”

“Yes, yes.”

You take another step towards Cater. He instantly places his arm over yours, drawing you a little closer, as he holds the phone in the other hand. He observes the preview of the photo. And then, he directs you to turn a little to the west, so the sun would colour your faces even more.

An artistic wind begins to blow and ruffles the leaves of the trees behind your back. They form your main background, which Cater wanted to expose as they were famous for their multicoloured flowers. It was the main reason to choose this park as the next place for your date. The strands of your hair began to wave, and you gently brushed a few away from your eyes.

But before Cater can snap that hundredth picture, you lower your head and put hand to your face.

“Ah, I think something is in my eye,” you murmur, with all your will trying not to rub your eyes. “Probably sand, ewh.”

“Oh, oh, wait, wait, wait,” Cater quickly tucks the phone into the pocket of his jacket and with one movement unbuckles his backpack. He pulls out a bottle of water -which he immediately hands to you - and then finds a package of tissues. “Here. Try to wash it out. And blink. You're supposed to blink a lot at times like this, right?” … Luckily for you, you don’t have to vex with it for long, because after a short while you manage to get the sand out of your eye. Cater’s phone is used as a mirror, and he checked himself if there might be any irritation visible in your eye.

You crumple a wet tissue and throw it in the trash can near your bench.

“It’s all right now, I think.”

Cater puts his stuff in his bag and gets up. With a short wave, he says that he wants you to stay where you are.

"I will cast a healing spell on your eyes," he announces and crouches in front of you. He smiles. “Metaphorical one. Please don't trust me when it comes to healing magic.”

And then he moves closer to you, and his hands are on your cheeks. They hold you in place as he gets closer and closer until he completely fills your view and asks you to close your eyes. You don’t have to look at him to know his gaze is trailing your face. And when he stops, it’s because he wanted to turn your attention to the touch as he places warm kisses on your eyelids.

These are some of the softer kisses Cater gave you. They are almost imperceptible and uncharacteristic of him, but you can feel the care in each one... and have a scent of his cologne – jasmine scent, slightly spicy in smell - that he put on himself surround you.

He steps back only when each eye receives at least three kisses.

“I think I feel better now...” You say with a smile which he reciprocates. He pulls out his phone, once again, and points its lens at you. He hums with pleasure, as he finds the perfect angle.

“So~? Will you smile for me once more?”

You can’t say no after such a satisfying spell.

Ace T. (feigned kisses)

“Hey, hey, come here, I want to tell you something...”

You tear your gaze away from your notebook, where the next line of your essay on the history of magic is now cut halfway. Ace's whisper snapped you out of the monologue you've arranged in your head, and you know you won’t recollect it soon. Not even a passive focus spell applied to the library could help, as Ace acted as a truly sterling distraction.

“Come here yourself.”

“It's important”

It’s probably not.

You sigh and shake your head. Ace does the same, but rises from his untouched textbooks. "I lack the motivation to study today," he tells you every time you drag him along to prepare for your next exam together.

He stops in front of you and turns your chair around so that you can directly face him. He smiles mischievously. Almost malevolently, but warm enough.

He places his hands on both sides of your chair and—oh, since when is he so close to you?

It's not that Ace isn’t in the habit of kissing you—he likes it as much as you do, although he never fails to roll his eyes when you ask for a kiss, or tease you ("ah, so you need more of my attention, hm? Heh~") before pressing his lips to yours.

And you are expecting the latter option until Ace stops inches from your face and snarls.

“Heh. You wish”.

He tries to whisper something more, but you don’t give him an opportunity to do so, as you throw your head back. And then he greets you with a look, you could describe as mean.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, genuinely disappointed. You turn your chair around and quickly tuck your books into your bag. Maybe you'll find Riddle or someone who can chase Ace away a bit with their presence, so you will have some peace. “But I'm feeling less and less sorry that it didn't happen. See you later, I'm off to class…”

...

Huh.

He didn’t expect that. Did you have a bad day today? Did he do something wrong or- Did you really care about getting a good grade on that essay? He couldn't guess, but he knew that if he doesn’t make a move now, you will try getting back at him.

“Hey—!” He wheezes, grabbing your hand. “You can't give up so easily. Fight for what you want!”

“Too much work.”

Ace sighs and tilts his head. He pulls you towards him by the strap of the bag you carry, almost knocking you off balance. And then, he presses your lips to his—they are unexpectedly soft and you start to wonder if it was because of the honey he added to his tea at almost every unbirthday party (to break another rule of his dorm)—and then... And then you both lost the air in your lungs that you hadn't managed to take in before kissing.

You look at him from under your lashes as you take a deep breath. “To quote, "Ah, so you need more of my attention?””

“Ughh,” Ace breathes out, and you feel that quiet sigh on the skin of your neck. He is still incredibly close, but for that moment you can’t bring yourself to push him away. “You're lucky I like you. …And, by the way, you choose very wise man’s quotes.”

Deuce S. (forehead kisses)

“…”

“...”

“...Are you asleep?”

“...No. Not yet.”

The quilt rustles quietly as you sat up on the bed. You feel tired, your head aches, and your eyes seem too heavy. You are sure you've already yawned about five times since you said “goodnight”, but even after forty—you counted each one with agony—minutes of lying down, sleep wasn't taking you away.

Neither did Deuce, and that was your current greatest comfort.

“I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight,” you whisper, trying to make out his features in the darkness that merge into a dark room. But you are sure that that darker patch of shadow—Deuce—is looking at you as intently as you are looking at it. “Not after the movie that Ace picked out.”

Deuce slowly gets up and you can finally tell where his face is.

“He picked the wrong title,” Deuce agrees, sighing heavily. “I don't know if I can-... Erm, I mean, I'm not a fan of horror movies, but it's not that, that, I-.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” you interrupt him gently and squeeze the duvet lightly in your fingers. You turn your gaze to a window where a hint of light shines through the gaps between the curtains. The moon must be very visible tonight. “I didn't like that film. You know what, Deuce? We can't let Ace choose movies ever again.”

“Right,” he put his hands through the strands of his hair. And then laughs at the memory he proceeds to describe you. “...When I was younger, my mother would often kiss me on the forehead whenever I felt I was too upset to sleep. I often tried to watch horror movies on my own so I could talk about them later at school, but... Haha. Anyway, somehow it always worked because I would go back to bed later and then—I think—I would fall asleep…”

“...Do you want to kiss me goodnight?”

“Ah-! N-no! That's not what I meant!” he protests. And then tries to look at you but finds it impossible. “Ah... Was that a request or a question?”

“An offer of a lifetime.”

Deuce remains in his bed for a few more moments but finally gets up. He pushes the curtains a little more and the room becomes much brighter. You could now see the games scattered on the floor that you had vowed to clean up in the morning, the outline of your beds and finally, and most importantly, yourselves.

He approaches you, quietly and carefully. You wait with a smile that you try to hide. You straighten up, put your feet on the floor, but still sit on the bed as Deuce brings his fingers to your face, and touches it with care as if you were a porcelain doll. Or a dream and Deuce was willing to believe in both cases.

He brushes your hair from your forehead and holds loose strands with one hand; the other is placed on the back of your head. He leans in. You hear him hold his breath and feel warmer as he presses his lips to the top of your head. You are sure he must have sensed the scent of his shampoo (you had a good reason for that: you had forgotten to take your own with you) because he quivers subtly as he inhales the smell bashfully.

And he must also be glad that it was still dark in here because, when you raise your gaze, his head is titled, as he often does when conscious of his blushes.

“…Are you calmer?” He whispers the question.

You nod slowly. Deuce carefully, almost reluctantly, steps away from you and sits down on his bed. Although he is no longer beside you, you can still feel the memory of how warm his skin and lips were. You gently touch the spot on your head where he had placed his kiss.

“If we don't fall asleep in the next half hour, we're going to go get some late-night snacks,” you decide, as you lay down, and you even notice Deuce smiling.

“Okay,” he chuckles. “And we can watch a better movie. But now try to fall asleep.”

“If I fall asleep now, I'll regret it.”

“You will say something else in the morning, tired.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #heartslabyul #heartslabyul x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey x reader #trey clover x reader #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce x reader #deuce spade x reader

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needybabytrashbeans · 10 months

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Quaestor Valdemar x Bismuth (OC) - The Feeling's Mutual

Commission by @silversnape ! Forgot to post and got sick so it's only just now getting posted but glad you enjoyed it fren! :) If anyone else wants to commission my rules are on my page and my DMS are definitely open to it!

Word count: 6,888

Genre: Innocent, fluffy, maybe a lil gorey or horror induced

Enjoy!

There's a graveyard located deep in the forest. Of course it was best to keep it from the palace grounds, for it was a dark little reminder of the past in Versuvia that was hidden amongst overgrown foliage. Quaestor Valdemar hadn't spoken much on it, what was there to say anyway? The land was full to the brim with the dead, headstones far out of reach. Bismuth, the apprentice to the physician, had grown a curiosity for it though it wasn't surprising for her to do so with her because of her natural sense of curiosity. Even if Valdemar hadn't said anything about it themselves the woman had been reading, there weren't many stories on the ancient land but she was able to find a few things.

To start of the land was filled with the dead as stated before, those who lost their lives to the great red plague that ruled over the lands. Bismuth had heard the tales of it from various mouths, people who had lost loved ones during those times or who were descendants of such and even more from Valdemar themselves who seemed to…enjoy talking about such a dark time. That wasn't new though of course it's not like the Quaestor grew eager to talk about anything else but the death toll that occurred back then.

Even so, they could talk about the plague all day she was sure but still…they hadn't said anything on the graveyard itself.

Valdemar suddenly snaps their fingers on front of bright eyes, Bismuth blinks at the action. She had zoned out, the graveyard has been on her mind for a while now. Probably more than it should be. Natural curiosity of a cat, hopefully it wouldn't get her killed.

"Assistant? Bismuth?…Are you even listening?" They question, voice smooth but there's some firmness and a light sigh that leaves them as they eye her, hovering close to her as if examining her gaze. The hand in her face is covered in sticky blood, they lower it to grab a rag that sits beside them, freeing their other hand from the corpse in front of them laying on the table. A man who had died of some sort of liver damage…Valdemar wipes their gloves clean before turning and looking at her once more, eyebrows furrowing a little.

"I'll say it again. Did you even hear a thing I said? How are you supposed to take notes when you can't even focus on what I'm saying?" They huff lightly but it's clear that their tone with her isn't as harsh and cold as it could be, one could say that they were rather nice to her compared to many others. Usually actions like this would set them off, make them glare and tsk in annoyance but they almost seem to have an uncharacteristic…patience with her.

"Mind informing me of whatever could be on your mind at a time like this? Weren't you the one who suggested helping me tonight?" They inquired as they set the now bloody cloth back to the side before crossing their arms over their back. Bismuth looks up at them with surprise before slowly looking down at her feet, heart pumping in her chest just having them look at her. As curious as she was for the graveyard she had to avoid their gaze for a moment for she might end up flushing. She was infatuated with the other, whether they knew or not and usually a scenario where they were focus on her was like a dream but right now it seemed like she was before scolded which put a light frown on her lips.

She looks from her shoes and uniform back to the dead man on the table, his skin is pale as his torso lays wide open for all to see. There's tools on the side, a surgical knife, tweasers, a scalpel… her gaze stays on her for a moment before she looks back up at her superior who seems to still be waiting patiently for a reply, lightly lifting a brow.

"I've…been thinking about the graveyard in the forest." She finally admits slower than she usually would and Valdemar looks at her in slight suspension as she starts that sentence off just for their eyes to widen as she finishes. It's almost as if they didn't expect that answer from her, at all, and maybe they didn't but why did they almost seem spooked by her words? It's silent for a moment, unexpectedly silent, and Bismuth can't help but feel herself grow anxious. She must've said something wrong. There's a moment where she begins to regret saying anything but it's not like the woman would hold information from them if they asked because she followed them and admired them greatly. There was no way she could lie so easily to them. However, their silence makes her feel like she shouldn't have opened her mouth at all. She can feel herself begin to shake a little, the idea of them being angry getting to her for that was just not something she could handle.

She jumps when a gloved hand seems to snake its way under her chin. She twitched at the touch but Valdemar doesn't take that as a reason to pull away as they carefully cup her chin, firm but not enough to bruise or cause pain.

"Why would something like that be on your mind? How did you even find out about that place? No.." they speak, eerily persistent before shaking their head a little as if that wasn't the way they seen themselves starting their response.

"That place is not safe. Thinking about it like you are must mean you're curious in it…I don't know what that brain of yours is thinking but you don't plan to go find it for yourself do you?" They contested. They were in her face now, still holding her chin but leaned in close. Tone hard and gaze unyielding as they looked at her and made her look at them. Their hand pressed slightly harder as her eyes widened before her lip started to quiver a little, it didn't hurt it's not like they were digging their nails in or pressed harshly on her cheeks, they're hold was firm but gentle almost like leading a small animal to look and focus on them.

Bismuth could feel her eyes watering, she couldn't help but feel troubled or that she was being trouble for them. She suddenly felt a little bad within herself, over thinking. She did come to help them because that's what she loved, being under them and around them…close enough to touch them but now they were upset with her, looking at her with such a gaze even if their hand felt surprisingly warmer than they usually were on her cheeks.

Valdemar's gaze seems to soften even just a little, they make a motion of shaking her head softly from side to side. It lightens the mood even just a little, especially when they push up her cheeks and make her pout and pucker her lips. They huff softly before letting her free a second after.

"I'm not angry with you Bismuth, just don't go out there and that is a warning." They advised while turning away from her to walk over to a counter.

"I..heard about it at the market. I was just wondering and all. When we…work on things together like the bodies of the living it's only natural for me to wonder where they go when we're done with them. You…don't let me come with you when you take them away." She spoke feebly, at the time of doing so the Quaestor had picked up a body bag. It was black, easy to be ignored or confused for a shadow if spotted in the woods. She watched them and their tall lean figure as they did so and noticed when they seemed to pause at her words, calculating them in their brilliant brain.

"You…want to come with me?" They asked as if perplexed and she nodded almost as if shy.

"Yes." She confirms politely.

They seem to think about it, brows knitting together a little as if thinking of the consequences of this action if they agreed. She has been working with them for a while now, long and diligently too… She always did what she was told with no talk back and little failure, enough so that Valdemar themselves had placed a certain level of importance on her. They eventually breathe in deep through their nose and out through their mouth, collecting themselves and their various thoughts before walking over to the lifeless body and the woman.

"Fine, I feel as though I can trust you… just don't touch anything and don't venture off. Do you understand Bismuth?" They spoke carefully as they pulled open the body bag waiting for her response even though they were positive that they already knew what she would say. As they led the body into the bag and eventually zipped it up they glanced at her from the corner of their eyes to see…a sparkle could be found in those dark eyes of hers.

With eyes like hers they could be seen as nothing but plain to some though it was easy to see… that not many people held eyes like her's. Sometimes they'd twinkle when they called her name, even more so when she had earned some praise. Inky blackness seemed like a spiraling galaxy at times, at least when Valdemar was in the picture.

They looked away after a moment, moving their hands to grasp the body bag and haul the contents over their shoulder. Honestly, for how lean they were, they were quite strong…

"Y-yes!" She answered, a look of determination now forming on that cute little face of hers as she agreed to their terms.

"Well come on. Don't get lost." They emphasized before turning away and leading the way to the dungeons exit. She eagerly followed like a puppy and they found themselves chuckling softly at it, how she had gone from that pout from earlier to such a sweet smile.

It was a bit of a walk to get there but with each step they made Bismuth could feel the energy that flowed from the forest. It was like a tingle running over her skin or an unintelligible whisper in her ears. She had grown rather anxious during their little adventure together, even going far enough to be right on Valdemar's heels though they didn't seem to mind. At least she was staying by their side like they told her to.

The full moon was out, the smell of dirt and rain laced the air. From Valdemar's perspective they walked with a sternness, they knew where they were going unlike their subordinate. Their walk hadn't contained much talking at first, mostly the crunches of leaves under their feet or the screeching of crickets took up the silence. It was only when they weren't too far when Valdemar eventually spoke, breaking the silence but not without the woman walking beside them jumping as if shocked to hear of them after all this time. Valdemar grinned, a toothy grin that was just a bit wider than usual as if they found it funny to see the woman practically shaking in her boots.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to spook you." They hummed looking down at her before looking ahead again, eyes glowing bright in the darkness. In their free hand they held a lantern to help the woman beside them, just because they could see in the conditions of the night didn't mean that she could as well.

"I just wanted to say that for someone who was so curious you're shaking like a leaf. One would one I dragged you out here if you keep scrunching your eyebrows and looking around like that." They pointed out but there was a playful edge to their tone as if trying to help the woman calm down. It seemed to work as she turned her head to them quickly, cheeks brightly flushing at their teasing. When her mouth fell open as if to say something back they lifted a brow, smug smirk on their lips.

"Please don't tease me Quaestor…" she huffs softly turning her gaze away but not without them noticing the light flush on her cheeks. They chuckled but left her be for the time being.

It's a bit chilly out tonight, nothing that would stop the Quaestor themselves but Bismuth rubbed at her arms for more warmth. Valdemar led the way, their tall figure finding a trail and walking along it. The gates of the graveyard were rusted, the doors stuck in place and wide open almost as if welcoming them but Bismuth shivered just looking at it. It wasn't as if she didn't expect it to be somewhat like this but the eerie feeling in the air felt too heavy even with someone like the Quaestor being there to guide her.

Her stomach churned as her onyx gaze trailed over the land, headstones poking out for what seemed to be far far away as if there wasn't an ending. She briefly covered her eyes, mind getting jumbled for a moment as she tried to calm her nerves but then the sound of metal clinging against metal had made her jerk. Snapping out of her thoughts. Her gaze moved to Valdemar who had sat the lantern down for a moment, a shovel now in their free hand which had been leaning against the rusted gate with one other.

"Are you okay assistant?" They asked but their tone was less playful than before as they almost seemed to look at her…in worry. She flushed at the expression, that frown pulled at their lips felt homey. Bismuth nods quickly this time, waving a hand dismissely while still holding herself with the other.

"I-im fine. Just a bit cold out here tonight considering how warm it was earlier." She replied now lightly shrugging. Valdemar hummed at the reply but eventually nodded before looking down at the lantern next to their foot.

"Look, come here. The sooner we get this done the sooner we'll be able to return to the palace. The rain must've caused a cold front. Take the lantern and follow me, you'll be the light." They instructed and obediently the woman approached and carefully plucked the lantern off the ground. They nodded and from there on continued by passing through the fence.

There was a heavy fog in the graveyard, the heads of tombs only became harder and harder to recognize as the two of them went deeper and the crickets who chirped so loudly before had suddenly fallen silent. Valdemar walked with ease and poise, they've been across these lands many times before that at first they didn't realize Bismuth had fallen a bit behind. For her, these lands almost seemed like anything could jump out and grab her at any given moment. She trembled now but not because of the cool weather this time.

"Bismuth?" Their voice rang out through the still air. She quickly turned, they were probably about ten or so paces in front of her now, standing out in the field of fog and gravestones. Their magenta eyes looked at her, a slight bit of confusion could be found in their features.

"Are you sure something isn't the matter?" They called out. Just hearing their voice calmed her, surprisingly like a guide through the dark. She came to the conclusion that she didn't like it here as much as she previously thought she would, previously her curiosity of the place had come from the lack of general knowledge on it. Granted graveyards…weren't her favorite though so it should have been expected. Originally she planned to come in the early hours of the day, where the sun could keep her peace of mind safe but the Quaestor had caught her so quickly. So then, when they allowed her to come she practically leapt at the chance to spend more time with them. She hardly thought about her decision at first but once they entered the forest it felt like her heart constricted in her chest and that something…was watching.

She shook her head though even as her heart was racing in her chest and her stomach was churning a bit.

"N-no, just thought I heard something…" she says softly, running her free hand through her long raven hair as she caught up for them and they waited up until she was standing beside them again.

"Something…like what?" They persisted lightly but she didn't mind as they turned forward again and continued walking. From this distance and with this pace of step Bismuth could notice a few things about her superior. She tended to do so often, just a few days ago she noticed they had freckles. A few could be spotted on the space of their neck that didn't get wrapped but most were over their cheeks. She'd grown to like them, quite a bit actually. Right now she was picking up on their scent, a blush coming to her cheeks as her gaze fell to her walking feet.

They smelled of something sweet and gentle like lavender and then something more earthy and homey like sandalwood and it was hard not to notice, it was some of her favorite smells.

"It feels like we're being watched..so, I didn't necessarily hear anything." She spilled without them having to push too hard. They hummed at the response, a little frown seemed to dust their lips for a moment but then they grinned widely, sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight. It was as if they were proud of something.

"Well yes, that would only make sense. We are at a graveyard after all. I feel them as well but they know not to approach me so as long as you keep up you won't be snatched into the void between life and death." They informed, their words chilling.

This graveyard hosted the bodies of those that passed away during the plague, their spirits watched from a distance but with hunger in their eyes just being near a walking, breathing, person. Her flesh reminded them or theirs before they plague tore it off them or melted it away. Now they looked like ghouls, the energy that they carried was heavy. Heavier than anything else Bismuth had ever felt before and to be honest, their phrasing did nothing to ease her this time.

Her face didn't match theirs, she didn't have a wide grin on her lips like they had in theirs. She nodded though, surely they didn't mean too much harm by saying that right?

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you." They spoke lastly as they moved off the pavement to venture into the grass into an open plot. There was already a headstone in the dirt but nothing was on it as Valdemar knelt down to slide the body bag from their shoulder to the ground to rest in the grass. Bismuth had fallen silent, the churning in her stomach had turned back into a wild fluttering.

"Right…" she manages to say softly as she pets her warm cheeks with her free hand. They don't respond immediately this time, taking the shovel in their hands now. She hovers close but they wave her back a little.

"Hold the light." The ordered calmly and she nodded. As they started digging she couldn't help but look around the graveyard again, surveying the area. She couldn't see any faces, not any ghoul like creatures but she could…feel them. A heavy shiver ran up her spine for a split moment. She still felt sick even with them being near, felt as if at any time she'd feel someone breathing down her neck tickling the strands of hair there. She shifted on her feet as the Quaestor kept digging, they were a little over a foot deep now, eyes focused on the goal. She watched as they went further and by the time that they dug enough for just their headdress to be seeable Bismuth was shivering again.

Her dark eyes glanced around again, first time quickly, darting from corner to corner now, checking her surroundings continuously but being sloppy with the task as well since she feared that she'd actually see something this time. It was when her eyes looked at the body bag next to the large hole that she froze. For the splittest of moments it seemed like it had moved and she squeaked and jumped at the very thought. She was spooked, the longer she stood here with this light the more she felt like she was drawing moths in. They circled her, the sound of fluttering wings in her ears loud and overstimulating.

"What is it now Bismuth?" Valdemar called out again, this time peeking their head up from the hole to look at the woman. If it wasn't the fact that the woman was practically scared shitless she probably would have found their position a little humorous for it distantly reminded her of a gopher sticking its head out of the dirt. No, she trembled and upon seeing her Valdemar lifted a brow. Surely it was her own fear at this point, nothing had come for her all night and yet she was this frightened.

"I..uh…" she stuttered and they sighed. If they could guarantee that she was strong enough they'd suggest switching spots. No way that could happen, she'd take too long in that state and it's not like they wanted to give her that much work anyway.

"It won't be too long now if that helps ease you. With how scared you seem I can count on the fact that you'll never come here alone right?" They chuckled while going back to work looking back to the hole as they dug the shovel in again but the woman let out a much smaller laugh, rubbing her arm with her free hand again. This was probably why Valdemar didn't bring her along with them to begin with until today, this seemed like only a place they could thrive in. They didn't seem fearful or nervous at all to be here, they almost seemed to blend right in and that made the woman feel a little embarrassed… She was an adult and yet she shook like a young child right now who was scared the Boogeyman would get her. Maybe she was just overreacting…even if she felt sick to her stomach.

"Yes, I don't think I could be caught dead here." She replied without much thought and for a moment complete silence settled between them before Valdemar snorted, then they let out a roar of laughter. They cackled as if she meant to tell that joke, as if they'd slap their knee at any given time. They curled in on themselves, using the handle of the shovel for support as their wicked laughter filled the air.

Usually people would be unnerved by this but Valdemar had a nice tone of laughter, Bismuth noticed even if she had jerked upon it first coming out. It felt like they hadn't laughed like that in a long time and even if Bismuth was a little confused she felt warm hearing it. Knowing that she was the source of such made her cheeks flush and for a moment she felt a soft smile beginning to form on her lips as they let it all out.

That was until a hand, cold and clammy, slapped over her mouth with harsh pressure. It held an iron grip on her as shock surged through her entire being from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Suddenly that warmth she felt shattered into an icy feeling of wriggling worms in her gut as the lantern fell from her hand, knocking the lit flame out and enveloping the area in the darkness once more.

When Valdemar eventually calmed themselves they hummed in content.

"Bismuth I didn't know you were a comedian-" they began to praise the little woman but froze when they realized how dark it had gotten so suddenly. Immediately they clambered out of the hole, it was deep enough now anyway. All that was needed was to toss it in and bury it but now something else was on Quaestor Valdemar's mind which seemed far more important than the corpse.

"Bismuth?" They stated louder, firmer, this time before snapping their head in the direction of the lantern that now lay abandoned in the grass. They sneered at the object like it was offensive to their very being…they let their guard down for the slightest of moments and that was apparently just enough. They didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what had happened.

Their hands were freezing cold as they held her tightly, hands gripping and grasping at her like they'd tear the skin right off her body at any time. Bismuth was in a frenzy, kicking wildly even if none of them seemed to make any actual contact as if she was kicking nothing but air, as if no one was really there but they had to be…their hold was starting to get awfully painful. Tears were leaking from Bismuth's eyes as she looked up at the various faces. The spirits, which she could now see even if she wished she couldn't, had black eyes but nothing like hers which were laced in anguish, their eyes were soulless, empty, and devoid of any purpose or care for her. They wrestled her on the ground as if trying to drag her down to Hell with them.

'Flesh.'

One of their voices stated, eery and chilling to the ear. Raspy and hungry as a hand slid down her warm cheeks, wiping at Bismuth's tears even if more took their place. She snapped her head away, turning it to try and avoid the touch but another, different hand roughly grabbed her chin and turned her back.

'Such…warm skin.'

Another voice echoed, it was hard to tell who it came from but the spirits faces which had previously been devoid of emotions turned into slow, knowing grins. Their teeth were wicked and the lines on their faces seemed abnormal, inhumane, and Bismuth gagged on puke which had built in her. They didn't seem to care, if she choked on her own bile then surely they could take her flesh a lot sooner after she died and proceed to drag her soul into the afterlife with them. They seemed to collectively communicate this between themselves as their grins grew even wider. There were quite a number of them, fifteen or so and counting as spirits seem to curiously leave their graves to see what the ruckus was all about.

It wasn't often that a human like her, or a human of any case, came through this graveyard and being victims of the plague only gave the spirits reasons to have a vendetta. Quaestor Valdemar had been their deaths and for many long years their spirits have been contained in this area where magic of the Quaestor held them in place. However, when the Quaestor approached today and with a cute little human with them at their hip, the spirits decided the best case of repayment for their internal suffering was to take from the lead physician themselves. Which is why when their guard was at its lowest they took her and dragged Bismuth further into the graveyard like a human rag doll.

Bismuth continued to squirm and wrestle them, her clothes getting dirty as she kicked up grass and dirt in her fight. Her clothes were wet with mud. Eventually a cold hand clasped around her ankle making her gasp as one of her last attempts to get away from these people, these creatures,…was taken from her. Hands already held down her wrist against the freezing ground as a spirit sat on her chest, a lady with long inky black hair…much too similar to Bismuth's.

'Lets take her…'

'Drag her back to hell with us…'

'Feed off her flesh and bones…'

'Savor her warm blood…'

The voices spoke as if they were circling and this time Bismuth was permitted to hear the conversation and when she did her eyes widened in absolute fear. They wanted to feed off her, consume her as if she was…prey.

The ghostly woman above Bismuth leaned down, long sharp nails digging deep into Bismuth's wrist, hard enough to make them bleed. Bismuth cried in pain under the hold but the woman continued, leaning close until she slid her tongue out. It was long, gray in color, Bismuth looked at her in wary and when the woman slowly trailed that cold tongue over Bismuth's tear stained cheek the living woman croaked under the hand over her mouth. More tears fell, the woman was tasting her and as much as she wanted to fight and run Bismuth couldn't do anything but stay glued to the ground under their surprising strength. She couldn't even move her hands to perform any form of magic that could save her.

Her thoughts went to Valdemar. She wondered where they were, if they were still laughing at the gravesite even. Her heart twisted in her chest, she was sure they would have never found themselves in this situation. They were strong, something that she didn't see herself as at times and this was definitely one of those times. What if they…were embarrassed by her? If they could see her now, fighting uselessly against a bunch of ghosts with no luck would they laugh at her like they laughed at her joke? A cruel, chilling laugh as if they saw no use in her? This is probably why they didn't trust her enough to bring with them to this place before, this whole time she had been useless and nothing but a nuisance. Surely if she had never come they wouldn't have had to deal with her and could have finished a lot quicker.

And now, she was going to die. At the hands of Quaestor Valdemar's own victims who saught revenge.

Bismuth sobbed, she was scared. Her stomach hurt like it had never down before and when the ghostly woman above her bared her teeth as if to bite Bismuth squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

…Then, the sound of swishing wind filled the air like a whip. It took a moment for Bismuth to realize what happened until screeching cries filled the air and a firm hand grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled her back with a heave. She bounced a little at being pulled back, blinked heavily as those tears fell and she tried to make sense of what occurred. It was when she looked up, lifting her head from the ground, that her eyes widened in awe, heart leaping in her throat.

In front of her stood…the Quaestor. Their back was to her, tall and broad as they stood in front of her as if they were…protecting her. In their hand was a weapon, one she's never seen them with before now and her eyes sparkled just seeing it, just being in its presence. It was a scythe, a long beautiful scythe with an ancient looking skull holding the blade together to the staff. They twirled it in their hands with a form of grace she's never seen before with any else and the head of the blade twinkled in the moonlight.

"Bismuth…" Valdemar stated in a calm tone though their voice was also firm. She immediately jumped just hearing it.

That was all though from them as they twisting their right wrist, scythe practically glowing. She clutched her shirt with shaking hands, the screeching had dialed down into growling and snarling except for one spirit, the woman who sat on Bismuth, her head had been severed from her body, lying limp on the ground and slowly turning to dark ash. A few spirits had been cut down, bodies turning into ash, melting away in the wind. Bismuth's heart was racing in her ribcage far too much for her to even say anything without her voice shaking. It was fine though for Valdemar still wasn't done dealing with the rest of the now infuriated ghosts.

"I'll only say it once. Get back in your graves, now, and I won't have to destroy all of you." The Quaestor stated with an eerily smooth tone. A few spirits backed off and hesitated just hearing them, faltering at the weight that those words carried. They sounded a little…angry.

Were they angry for her?

'Tch! As if!' A spirit roared, a man with dark crunchy hair. He and a few others decided to try again and as they bomb rushed the Quaestor Valdemar who narrowed their gaze, sharp fuschia eyes zoned in on their opponents as they rushed forward, and with a reeled back swing they slashed at the incoming borage. The wind produced by the scythe time was enough to slash at the trees even beyond the graveyard. It was seeable too, the slash that is. It was bright, their magic being a vibrant emerald color with specks of lighter greens and onyx's. The trees that were slash fell to the ground with loud, destructive thuds and with them came more screeching as spirits who didn't listen to the Quaestor's words lost their heads much like those before them. The slash had even sliced through rows of graves, shattering them with the impact.

As their bodies crumbled and collapsed the few spirits who had a sense of mind trembled in fear, looking at the Quaestor who stood unyieldingly in front of the woman behind them, before scurrying like a bunch of roaches and rodents back into their graves.

Quaestor Valdemar stood in silence for a moment as Bismuth tried to get on her feet before turning to her. They could be heard taking in a long deep breath through their nose before slowly releasing it from their smooth lips before turning to the woman, scythe dissolving from their hands into inky black, gas like tendrils before disappearing altogether. Their gaze on her seemed unreadable, not like they were easy to read begin but over the time of working by their side even Bismuth had gotten to know some of their expressions. This one however…

She scramble to her feet, wincing at the feeling of the scratches that had come from being dragged and the forming bruises on her skin. Even so she stood, holding one of her arms now. She still had tears in her eyes and almost as if ashamed she slowly lowered her gaze, bangs sweeping over her eyes.

"Doctor…I'm…I'm…" she sniffled. She shouldn't have come with them. She had been nothing but a nuisance after all. She wanted to apologize and is her mouth quivered she opened her mouth to officially get it out but the feeling of arms enclosing her made her jump and jerk into silence. Her mouth lightly fell open and her eyes had blown wide open as the moon shined down on them.

They were hugging her.

Shock rushed through her body.

"Don't." They started, arms hugging her even closer. She's never touched them before, sure they hovered over her at times and lingered closely but never once have they ever…held her. Never once had she even been this close to them, close enough to take in that sweet scent, enough to touch their pristine clothing, or enough to feel the light warmth that radiated from them. Her fingers twitched, carefully moving up to wrap around them too. A part of her feared reciprocating but surely this meant it was allowed though right? Surely she could have this from them.

"I'm glad you weren't hurt too badly. I let my guard down and just like that you were taken from me. Taken from my side. I must still have work to do when it comes to keeping you safe." They hummed against her, breath lightly tickling her neck making her shiver softly, a blush coloring her cheeks as she bit her lip. Her heart hurt, the tone in their voice sounded hopeless, grateful but analytical. It sounded like they were blaming themself for everything that had happened.

Before Bismuth had noticed she had started to shed tears, for some reason she felt lighter and Valdemar's scent and the hand rubbing soothing circles in her back didn't help calm her sobbing. She felt many things suddenly; relief, sadness, confusion and something much more fluffy.

Admiration.

She couldn't immediately understand what they were doing or why but she didn't mind. She would never mind something like this and from someone like them specifically. She almost tightened her hold when she felt them slowly pulling away but she restrained herself. They moved their hands to her shoulders and gave them a little squeeze.

"Let's get back to the palace, I'll check over you and look over your wounds." They hummed, right hand moving to caress her cheek, wiping at a few tears before lightly cupping her cheeks and tilting it to look a little closer at her. They seemed rather occupied for someone who said they'd check it later, were they actually worried? Even with her blushing hot cheeks she stayed still as they hovered close to her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, hands on their biceps. A chuckle eventually left their lips, filling the night air. Next thing Bismuth knew there was a soft pair of lips against her cheek. She blinked in confusion before her face exploded in a bright crimson color.

"At least they didn't scruff up this little face of yours too badly. Come on, let's go." They spoke, tone going from lightly joyous to a more professional one once more but even so Bismuth could have sworn their face had also grown a bit dark in hue. She slapped her hand over her cheek and sputtered, officially at a loss for words.

"You! Huh?! Oh God…" She concluded in defeat. Her face was so flushed as she followed them. It was like she immediately had forgotten what had previously occurred to her. They had…kissed her! Her heart was practically running laps in her chest so fast that she had to reach a hand up and grip her shirt. She had never thought they'd do such a thing, did that mean they felt something for her like she had for them for so long now? Is that why she caught them staring at her at times or seemingly overprotective with her, even a bit clingy at times? She didn't mind those times with them was this proof?

She sure hoped it was.

She opened her mouth to say something about it after a while of walking with them. They had made their way back to the grave, the body was gone now in the dirt, buried beneath the earth and next to the gravestone was the lantern. Valdemar grabbed it before they continued the walk, leading Bismuth back to the fence.

"Um…Quaestor?" She started softly as they walked the trail.

"Valdemar is fine." They replied with no issue. Bismuth nodded.

"Alright but…I'm just…a little confused. I don't want to assume but…back there you…" she squeezed out, Valdemar could probably see her tapping for pointer fingers together like a shy child. They lifted a brow, glancing down at her at their side before laughing a little, now looking at her fully again as they made their way back to the palace.

"Can't even wait for us to get back to safety before you ask those things?" They inquired, tone lightly teasing as they looked away once more. "It's been a long time since I've felt for someone as I do with you. That's what you were going to ask right? Well, I thought it'd be the best way to show you how I felt, maybe I got caught up in the moment as well." They explained and Bismuth fell into silence, eyes wide, and heart stunned. Were they really just confessing to her?

"Was I wrong to do so? I read that maybe people liked to use cheek kisses for those they like, would you prefer a different one?" They hummed, a grin on their lips but yes their cheeks were bright as well, a little blush of their own. They had read up on something like that just for her? She needed to know more but even then it felt like her heart would explode out her chest at any moment. How long have they felt this way for her? What books had they read? What ideas did they have for different kisses?

Bismuth was a mess, if she could tuck her face into her shirt for a moment she probably would.

"I've liked you for so long…" she whispers and Valdemar hums.

"And the feeling is mutual, so let's talk about it when we get back. We can discuss whatever you'd like and I'll answer with honesty to each one. " They promised and from there Bismuth nodded, butterflies practically bubbling up her throat as they eventually exited the woods.

"Okay." She agreed softly.

#writing comissions #writing community #commissions open #writing #the arcana x reader #the arcane game #thank you for the commission!#quaestor valdemar #valdemar x reader #valdemar #valdemar x mc #oc commission #commission me #commissions are open #otome romance

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vincent-sinclair-deserved-better · 1 year

Text

Ever Move I Make Feels Lost With No Direction

Selena wakes up in unfamiliar surroundings and meets her little saviour again

Characters: Selena, Blinky

Words: 1386

Content warnings: some religious talk

I did not wake up to the sound of bells, heavy knocking on my door, or Sister Mary Josephine yelling at me to get up, which was strange. I didn’t feel sore either, nor cold. In contrast, I was warm, and a soft blanket seemed to have been placed over me – at least I could not remember having taken it myself. I opened my eyes, expecting to see the cold stone walls of my small convent room, but instead was faced with one larger than I’ve ever had. The floors were wooden and the walls painted, there was a bed and other furniture, and curtains blocking out most of the daylight, though I could still make out that it must have been well past morning.

Only when I heard voices and music from elsewhere in the house I remembered. The hours of driving, huddled up in the back of the car, not even allowed to look around. The gas station, the stranger, the dilapidated church. The Sisters and me being taken to a house and the strange people living there – and how they had not killed me. They had been... kind? It had not felt right then, and still didn’t. They said they had killed the Sisters but that they would not hurt me.

Slowly, carefully, I sat up, folding the blanket back. There were stains on the covers, a reminder of the state I was in. It seemed almost metaphorical, a sign that I was made to taint everything I touched. Yet, the people here had said it wasn’t true. It did not make sense. Nothing made sense.

There was a bucket of water, a wash cloth, and soap nearby, along with a note. It took me a moment to make out the words, “to wash”, it said, and I was sure it had not been there when I had gone to sleep. Additionally, there seemed to be different clothes on the bed – or was I misremembering? I examined them without touching, a blouse and a dress in neutral colours, and decided to at least try and get cleaned up a little.

The water stung in the scratches and cuts caused by smaller twigs and thorns having gotten caught on my skin, but it was nothing in comparison to wounds I had received in the past. On my back and shoulders, I still had some welts from the most recent lashing that were in the process of healing. I was careful not to scrub to hard as to prevent bleeding. At least the wash cloth and towel were somewhat soothing on the irritated skin, not like the rough fabric in the convent.

I got up and took a closer look at the clothes, slightly worried someone might walk in on me in my now nude state. Not because I was ashamed – I had been made to remain undressed before people before – but because it was not proper unless explicitly asked for. And I would rather not get into one such situation, orders to undress for anything that was not a shower were never for good reasons.

Without too much thought, I put on the undergarments offered, and after a moment’s hesitation I reckoned that the blouse and dress should be acceptable as well. Someone had clearly gone out of their way to get different clothes, probably thinking I didn’t like the other ones. That in itself was confusing, I would have expected them to be offended or angry about my ungratefulness.

To my further surprise, the dress reached well past my knees, fit my upper body, and the sleeves of the blouse were not much too short. I couldn’t help but rub the fabrics between my fingers, it was all so smooth and... soft. I could not remember if I had ever worn clothes that had felt like this.

Looking back at the blanket on the floor, I decided that I should probably remove the covers and find somewhere to clean them. I also needed to pour out the water and clean the bucket. But that meant leaving this room, and despite having been told it was okay, the thought scared me. They had said what things I could do if I wanted, but not given any specific rules or orders. It felt like I was set up to make a mistake and fail.

Then I realised that I had not said my prayers yet, I hadn’t even thought of it. All my thoughts had been about myself, and only my own. That was dangerous, or so I had been told all my life. Taking a grounding breath, I knelt down, closed my eyes, and prayed.

I don’t know how long I had been standing in the room, dirty sheets in my hands, and just stared at the door, but eventually the sound of footsteps approaching pulled me out of my thoughts. My body tensed up and I hardly dared to breathe, scared because I did not know what to do or expect. There was a soft knocking on the door, and it took me a moment to find my voice.

“Uh, yes please?” I said, unsure. No one had ever waited for my permission to come in. It had not been my place to refuse anyone entrance.

The door opened a crack and the head of Blinky appeared.

“Oh, you’re awake and changed, that’s great!” they said, even though I wasn’t sure why they seemed happy about it, “Did you sleep okay? And how are the clothes? I figured the one’s Baby left weren’t like what you’re used to so I got different ones, does the dress fit? I had to guess your measurements and size.”

I stared at them for a moment, trying to take in all the words and questions. It was so strange, to be talked to instead of talked at, and to be asked anything, really.

“I... slept fine, but I dirtied the blanket covers. I wanted to clean them but didn’t know where-”

“That’s alright, just put them in the laundry bin, Doe Eyes usually takes care of it,” they interjected.

“I don’t want to be too much of a burden on you-”

They waved me off. “You’re not a burden, especially not for some dirty sheets. You want someone to take a look at your old clothes as well or do you think you can part with them? We’ll sure find you new stuff you’ll feel comfortable wearing, or maybe Baby would even take you out shopping.”

I had never been shopping, not even for food.

“If you give me a needle and thread I can fix them up myself,” I said, “I don’t need anything new, and actually buying something really isn’t necessary, it’s not worth spending money on clothes for me.”

They furrowed their brows but their tone remained unchanged, “I just think it could be difficult to find things in your size around here, Baby, Doe Eyes, and Mama aren’t as tall as you. I made the dress just to make sure you have something you can hopefully feel somewhat comfortable in.”

“You made this?” I replied without even thinking about it, “For me?”

“Yeah,” they shrugged.

Once again, I could only stare at them. They sewed a dress for me. Even though they didn’t have to. They wanted me to feel comfortable. “No one has ever... made me something. And in the convent, I usually had to alter all garments myself, they could rarely find things that fit. They said women aren’t supposed to be as tall as me, but when I was younger, no matter how little food they gave me, or how many fasts they had me do, I would not stop growing.”

Blinky remained quiet for a moment, just watching me. I was just about to apologise for saying something wrong, when they spoke up again, “Come, let’s put the sheets into the laundry and get you some food. You probably haven’t had breakfast yet?”

I shook my head.

“Yeah, me neither, and dad won’t be happy if I don’t eat.”

“Why would you not eat?” I asked, confused. “Do you fast?”

They shrugged. “No, sometimes I just forget. Don’t always notice hunger, especially when I’m busy.”

“Oh, okay,” was all I said, and we stepped out of the room.

@immortal-velociraptor @myers-meadow @rottent33th @bluecoolr

#cylas writes #selena firefly #selena 'ghost' firefly #ghost firefly #blinky firefly

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jaws-and-canines · 1 year

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AU: You Can’t Defy Thirst

Part of the Ten Years Under A Different Hand AU. Comes after this piece. Haskell decides to try to draw things out to infuriate Mere, the only way he can. Contains themes of mouth gore, thirst/dehydration, mentions of suicide and fever.

---

Footsteps fall at the top of the stairs and a switch is thrown, illuminating the bare basement. “Are you ready to let me talk?”

The harsh light falls on streaming eyes of the shivering pile of clothes in the middle of the sawdust-covered floor. He sits up, eyes watery, and fixes Mere with the most furious look he can manage, before screaming at the top of his lungs, muffled through his angry and inflamed sewn-shut mouth. The exact same way he did the first time Mere started to explain the way things were going to work.

“Fine,” says Mere. “I’m not impatient. We can play it your way.” The light goes off again. Darkness.

Haskell stares with unfocused eyes as the door is locked from the outside- the story of his life, at this point, he thinks, and itches at his clammy skin where the shock collar’s prongs have rubbed it almost raw. Mere hadn’t even got past the first sentence of his little speech however long ago- could be hours, could be days, could be weeks, Haskell doesn’t know anymore- and he’d screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Mere had carried out what was on the back tables, taken the chair- removing any possible means of escape, and all possible means of suicide, any other hope of a death except one Mere allows him to have- other than to beat his head on the concrete walls or throw himself down the stairs and hope he lands badly, something which Haskell has already written off as being beyond him- and left him there on the floor rather than even try to continue.

Haskell lies his head back down on the sawdust, and tries not to swallow back tears- his throat is so dry it feels as if he is swallowing broken glass every time he does. He thinks he might die, withered, drained of all moisture on the floor of this basement. Nobody would ever know. It would probably be stifling if it weren’t for the freezing cold feeling of a fever running through Haskell’s veins.

He wants to go home. He wants to go home, but he thinks about it- by now, the biohazard cleaners are probably done scrubbing away the blood and viscera, his furniture and belongings have either been sold off or destroyed, and the house itself probably stands empty, vacant, waiting for a new purpose. There is no home for him anymore.

He thinks- although the pounding headache of dehydration makes it difficult to- why he is doing this. Why? He knows why. He still has the strength left in him to refuse- and even though he knows, in his heart, that he will eventually have no choice but to agree to play Mere’s game or die, the stubborn streak he clings on to makes him get some degree of glee out of making the Special work for every little concession Haskell makes to him.

Sure, it would be nicer to just listen to him, to just agree to what he wants, bow his head and nod silently, thinks Haskell, but it’s not about what is easy and what is nice. It’s about retaining every fucking shred of his autonomy- Mere gives him choices, and Haskell will continually tell him where to put them for as long as he can, he thinks.

Unless there are no more choices. Unless he’s already burnt through all his chances. Haskell’s eyes go wide as the sudden and terrifying thought that Mere has left him here to die sticks in his head. Oh, God, he thinks. Oh, God. He smacks the heels of his palms into his head, trying to drive the thought out. Again, again, again, until his hands and his head are bruised.

He stops, feeling the bruising start to blossom, and resolves that if that is the case, he’s already dead, and there’s nothing he can do. He’s hungry and thirsty, there’s nothing he can do about that. He’s tired, and he can still sleep of his own volition. He lies still once more, and falls asleep with an aching head and a dry mouth.

He dreams of crawling through a desert towards a mirage- and at the mirage, he finds nothing but Jacob Kay, standing over him. “Why did you do this?” asks Kay. He isn’t angry. Just dissapointed. “Why did you do this?” sobs Haskell back, grasping on to the dead man’s trousers before weeping over the polished leather of his shoes. There is no water at the dreamed mirage save for the salt of guilty tears.

He’s woken by the light coming on again, burning his eyes, and tries his best to sit up, but his arms give way beneath him. He feels so fucking ill, and waits for the question, wondering what he’ll do if he finds he can’t scream over Mere’s irritating monologue. It doesn’t come. Silently, Mere turns, shuts the door behind him, and locks it from the inside. Haskell stares at him with eyes burning in the fluorescent light.

Mere comes down the wooden steps this time, holding a tray. He sets it down on the table above Haskell’s head. He pours something from a jug into a glass, and then stoops down, stirring the glass of water with a metal straw.

Haskell realises with a whimper why the straw is metal as Mere stops stirring with it. He forces it between two of the stitches on Haskell's mouth, holding his head still with one enormous hand. “Drink, come on,” says Mere. Haskell shakes his head, grunts a refusal, but Mere just tips the glass up a little and the cool water comes running down the straw, and all of a sudden, Haskell finds himself reflexively gulping it down through the straw, easing a parched and burning throat.

“Slow down, you’ll be sick,” snaps Mere.

Haskell thinks for a moment how that would go, imagining acidic bile scouring against the holes through his lips, and slows down. He keeps drinking until there’s nothing left in the glass. His throat still burns, and he makes a noise between a grunt and a whimper, asking for more. Mere takes the glass away, leaving the straw stuck between the stitches, and refills it half-full, though he holds it away from Haskell for the moment. “You just have to listen. You don’t have to agree with me. I’ll give you this half now, when you agree to listen, and if you keep your promise, you can have the other half after.”

Haskell considers. He considers screaming over Mere again, but his throat is only just starting to feel less like sandpaper- he’s starting to feel less like a husk of a man and more like he’s actually alive- and the half-glass sits so temptingly just out of his reach. Fuck, he thinks. Fuck.

Mere asks again. “Are you going to listen?”

Haskell stares at the water in the glass for a moment. It’s just listening. It’s just listening. It’s not conceding anything yet. Just listening. He nods, ever so slowly. It takes most of his strength. Mere puts the straw into the glass and tips the glass up so Haskell can drink through the straw. This time, he takes it slow, trying to soothe his aching throat and scoured-raw back of his mouth.

It feels like heaven. Or the closest to it he’ll ever get again.

Mere puts the glass to one side, and clasps his hands, leaning on his knee for balance. “I’ve only wanted to offer you a choice. A decision. You can come upstairs, I have a bed for you, food, medication, clean clothes,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “But I have expectations of your behaviour. You will, if you want any of that, work for me, join my domestic staff as a hallboy, the lowest of the low. Very simple duties. Nothing beyond a man of your abilities.”

Haskell’s anger returns, deep in his chest. How fucking dare he think he can strip Haskell fucking Haveter, of all people, down to the level of a common servant. How fucking dare he. He makes a hoarse attempt at an indignant grunt.

Mere just carries on, that same quiet tone. “And trust me when I say this, boy, that I’m not even laying a hand on you. So don’t think that this is rock bottom just yet. You still have plenty far to fall.” He smiles, but as always, it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s like it’s tacked onto a face that never truly smiles. “So what do you say to that?”

Haskell considers for a moment. All the things he could say to piss Mere off cross his mind, but he knows he can’t say them through the steel thread agony that is his mouth. Then, shakily, he holds up two fingers to Mere, a defiant gesture of ‘up yours’.

Mere picks up the jug from the tray and empties it onto the floor. The consequence for the vulgarity is clear, and Haskell watches tearfully as the water swills into the sawdust and is soaked in. Mere leaves without a word.

#mouth gore #count the days #dehydration #thirst #whumpblr #writeblr #idfk how to use tags at this point you should just accept that

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || your newest client asks you to give him a real challenge, and you’re happy to oblige.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 6.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (lots of handjob stuff though and some brief oral m receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, more cnc (because of the overstimulation), bondage, edging, impact play (riding crop), brief cock torture (she just hits him with the crop a couple times), implied “kink as trauma response” (this is gonna be a theme throughout the whole fic), forced to break a rule/doomed to fail/impossible challenge (idk how to warn for this but yeah), forced voyeurism?, thigh riding (reader rides bucky’s thigh), some degradation/dumbification, brief/implied dacryphilia, a bit of angst/feelings

new parts posted on thursdays! join the taglist here

“Can’t,” he sighed, “can’t come again.”

He looked so painfully adorable when he begged like that, his brow glistening with sweat as he jerked under your touch. “Aw, poor baby,” you pouted, twisting your hand when it stroked over the head of his cock, “yes you can. I know you can. Just gimme one more.”

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, “Mistress, please— just stop, please, I can’t… can’t take any more…”

“I know you can, sweetheart— I know you can be my good boy and keep coming for me. Tell me your color.”

“Yellow,” he whispered.

“Think you’re almost done?” you pressed, smiling when he nodded breathlessly. “Yeah, there’s my good boy— gonna come again for your Mistress?”

“Yes,” he breathed, baring his teeth as his hips bucked wildly to try to avoid further sensation, “y-yes, one more, just one more, I’m gonna— fuck, gonna come, just don’t stop… fuck, it hurts.”

“I know, but you’re being so good for me,” you purred. “You like it when I milk your pretty cock, don’t you? Even though it hurts?”

He winced but nodded. “C-coming, Mistress, fuck, I’m coming…!”

Since it was his fifth of the evening, he could only give you one thick drop of come that gathered at his slit before running down over your hand which finally slowed to a stop.

You both sighed with relief as you pulled your hand away and leaned back, admiring how beautiful he looked as he caught his breath, covered in come and sweat.

"Good job," you praised with a chuckle, "I hope I didn't go too hard on you."

"N-no, that was… that was really good," he sighed, slumping back onto the bed. "Can I use your shower before I go?"

"Yeah, totally," you nodded.

After a long pause, you gave him a confused look.

"I thought you were gonna shower?" you reminded him.

"Oh… I guess I have to get up for that," he sighed, making you laugh.

"Rest a bit longer. You've had a… challenging afternoon."

He nodded a little and you got up from the bed to go wash your hands and freshen up a little, smiling at your own appearance in the mirror— sometimes you forgot how you looked when you did this, but there was an undeniable aura of power around you… especially after a session like that.

This was only your third week with James, and already the dynamic felt so natural between you— and yet, so fresh compared to your other clients. Normally it took longer for a newbie to get comfortable with you, yet most of them had had multiple doms before and here was James, totally inexperienced and taking it all like a champ. There was an air of innocence about him, you figured, in contrast to this undeniable strength and intensity that you caught glimpses of from time to time.

Sometimes, it felt like he was chasing an innocence he lost a long time ago. Whatever it was that drew him to this, you were happy to help him along the way.

It was probably a little dangerous to enjoy sessions with a client so much; even though you often pretended that everything was about your pleasure and not theirs, obviously since they were the paying customer it was the complete opposite in reality. But there was an equity to the dynamic with you and Bucky, he served you with a real dedication rather than for his own gain. And you, meanwhile, had rediscovered the fun in this career that had originally drawn you to it in the first place. It was less like a science now, more like an art— you let yourself go with your instincts and do whatever felt right in the moment, and both of you benefitted for it.

“Come on, get up and clean yourself off,” you encouraged— gently, of course— as you left the bathroom and returned to find James laying sprawled out on the bed.

“I know you said falling asleep here was a one-time courtesy,” he remembered with a smile, “but I could use it now a lot more than I needed it then.”

Honestly, you didn’t see him smile that often. It was pleasant; you hoped to see it again. He did get up, though, and take the washcloth you handed him to wipe off the come that had gotten all over him. “What are you thinking for next week?” you asked as you leaned against the wall. “Any special requests?”

“We can discuss all that over the phone,” he decided. You still didn’t understand fully why he didn’t like to discuss future scenes in person; it was like he wanted the in-person interactions to be as ‘in character’ (if you will) as possible.

“Alright, just keep me updated,” you requested with a shrug.

You got changed while he took his shower, and when he emerged to the living room he seemed surprised to see you sitting on your own couch. After a moment, you realized it was the fact that you were in normal clothes that threw him off. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before… or pants of any kind.”

You looked down at your outfit with a smile, glad it was at least still professional and not sweats and a t-shirt or something. “Yeah, I guess you haven’t. First time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, had a lot of first times with you,” he chuckled. “Most significantly less mundane than this.”

A brief silence filled the room but it wasn’t exactly awkward, at least not for you.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” he decided as he grabbed his jacket from your chair and slipped it on. You’d been spending most of this session trying to forget how good he looked in the leather motorcycle cut, so that was out the window now as you tried to keep from visibly biting your lip while he walked towards the door.

Damn, he was fine. But there were more pressing matters at hand. Like preparing yourself and your apartment for your next appointment. This guy wanted to get slapped around until he cried… shouldn't be too difficult, but your arms would probably be sore tomorrow.

Opposite of last week, I really want you to edge me tonight, as long as possible.

Don't go easy on me, make me hold it in. I need a challenge this week.

-J

It was odd how emails from James made your week.

He seemed to prefer to communicate his desire with you this way; maybe it was easier for him, and you couldn’t really blame him for that. The nice part was that you didn’t have to temper your reactions, if you had any, since you were always alone when you got his messages. You might be old hat at it now, but you could remember a time that you had to hide a grimace when a client told you to your face what he wanted. Not that you would shame them for it or anything (unless, you know, they paid you to), but you didn’t enjoy everything you did with these men.

Did you enjoy everything you did with James? Yes, but you were pretending not to— for your own sake.

You dressed a bit differently for today’s session, more conservatively… not that it was especially conservative by any other person’s standards. But it left your legs and chest covered, somewhat in the spirit of ‘mean corporate businesswoman’ aesthetically. For some reason you felt like using a riding crop required wearing pants.

James certainly didn’t seem to mind, with the way he nervously cleared his throat after you opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” you greeted formally, “please, come in.”

He stepped past you, still looking at you and not at what was in front of him, meaning he ended up slamming himself gut-first into your kitchen island.

“Oh! Are you alright?” you smiled when you noticed.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded, rubbing his stomach for a second but recovering quickly. “I told you I can take a lot of pain,” he joked.

“Well, we’re going to put that to the test today,” you promised cryptically. “You must’ve seen the crop on the table.”

He nodded again. “Yeah....”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a bit too quickly.

“Then let’s get you tied up, James.”

Straddling his lap, you realized the rope was a bit too tight when you saw it digging into his skin; maybe he wouldn’t mind that, but you did, so you pushed the rope back through itself to loosen it slightly.

“How long did it take you to learn all these knots?” he asked casually, watching your fingers nimbly work the ropes around his wrists.

“Not too long,” you shrugged, “I’ve only been doing this a few years… but I knew them before that.”

“Boating school? Boy Scouts?” he suggested jokingly.

“Just a hobby,” you decided, dodging the covert question about your past. “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Do I look like a Boy Scout?” he countered with a scoff.

“Not anymore,” you shrugged, “but I bet you did once. You’re sorta innocent, you know.”

He swallowed dryly, and you raised an eyebrow as you glanced from the knot you were tightening to his face, which looked a bit flustered. “R-really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning back on your heels to look at him straight-on. “Are you surprised to hear that?”

He nodded quickly, and you laughed.

“Aw, you thought you were so kinky, huh? So dirty,” you purred, running your hand up his leg until he tugged slightly on the newly-tied ropes— a subtle way to get him to test them for you. “But you’re really not. You’re just my sweet, innocent boy.”

He whined— really, properly whined— and you dug your nails into his skin until he hissed instead.

“I don’t think you believe me,” you noticed, leaning back to reach for the crop behind you. “You think you’re so filthy and perverted, right? Are you a pervert, James?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering as you let the crop slide gently over his skin— his abs, his hips, his legs which were already quivering so adorably. “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how’s that?”

“I think about… getting hurt,” he admitted weakly, “when I touch myself. And I touch myself all the fucking time.”

“Yeah? How many times a day do you stroke that pretty cock, James?”

“Twice every morning,” he blurted out, “after that it depends.”

You didn’t let yourself show your surprise at that number. “Depends on what?”

When he hesitated, you hit him sharply on the thigh and he winced. “Depends on what I… what I end up thinking about. Sometimes… sometimes something reminds me, and I have to get off.”

Something told you not to press on what it was that he needed to be reminded of, and why it made him want to jerk off so bad. Something told you he wasn’t ready to tell that story yet. “Did you touch yourself today already?” you asked instead.

“No, no ma’am,” he shook his head, voice wavering as you brushed the crop over his chest, “it’s… it’s different with you.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” you smirked, hitting him on the stomach quickly. “I bet you’re finally satisfied, right? Nothing’s ever worked for you before.”

“Yes,” he moaned, crying out slightly when you hit him on the arm (flesh— you were too afraid what sound the metal one would make) much harder than before. “The nights I see you, I… I can sleep.”

“You sleep better?”

“No, I just… sleep.”

You tried not to react to that, moving to a new question instead. “Do you want me to hit you again? Or do you want me to stroke your cock for you?”

An obvious choice to some, surely, but he seemed to really struggle with it.

“Which one do you think you deserve?” you asked instead.

“Hit me more,” he decided.

Instantly, you struck him once on the face and again on the shoulder, then moved down to his legs for three in a row in spite of the way his body jerked away instinctively.

“Fuck,” he sobbed, “don’t stop— I need more…”

You focused on his legs, on the inside of his thigh where he seemed the most sensitive. His twisted joy turned to true fear, though, when you brushed the end of the crop over his balls. “Do you want me to hit you here?” you challenged.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Let’s make a deal, James,” you offered, “wherever I hit you, I’m gonna kiss it to make it better.”

“Then hit me wherever you want,” he nodded, almost smiling at you. He cried through his teeth when you whipped his shaft with the crop— not especially hard, in fact quite delicately, though the second was harder. And the third, though not much more aggressive, was right on the sensitive tip; his eyes shot open and his hips jerked away.

“So good, such a good boy,” you whispered proudly, putting the crop aside to lean in and kiss his cheek where you’d hit him before, his shoulder, his arm.

You worked your way down carefully as he breathed heavily beneath you, whimpering slightly when you kissed his thighs and notably ignored his flexing, leaking cock. “Please,” he whimpered.

“Shh, be patient,” you soothed, “be my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeated, trying to restrain himself but already bucking up into the air again, “fuck, wanna be your good boy, Mistress.”

“Are you already close, pet, just from getting hurt?” you asked in a faux pout. “You’re not gonna come if I give your pretty cock some kisses, right?”

“I— I won’t come,” he promised. “Not until I get permission.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be a long fuckin’ time before you get permission,” you promised with a toothy grin. “Look down at me, honey, I want you to see this.”

He hesitated for a second but obeyed, looking down at you with an expression that was full of awe as you gripped his cock and gave gentle, teasing kisses up his shaft. It bobbed in your hands with each one, and he let out the most beautiful sigh when you kissed the tip carefully.

A wide lick made him jerk beneath you. “F-Fuck,” he stammered.

“You said you wouldn’t come,” you reminded him. “Can I keep going? Are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Don’t stop, please,” he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

Taking the head between your lips, you suckled gently as he shivered and moaned. You weren’t sure you’d ever been with anybody— on or off the clock— who was so sensitive. And you loved it, honestly; who could resist those precious noises he made?

As much as part of you wanted to go nuts and really push him to the edge, you tried to be gentle and careful so as not to make it impossible for him to hold back. But even then, when you gently grasped his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them, he apparently couldn’t take anymore.

"S-stop," he hissed, and you pulled back, sitting up.

"You were close?" you asked, and he nodded a little. "Oh, what a good boy."

He whimpered briefly. "Yes, your good boy, Mistress…"

Your fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his cock, making him shiver violently. "I know you want to come, but you want to be good even more. You're such a sweet little pet."

It seemed like the praises did more to keep him on the edge than the touches, so you kept both going; wrapping your fingers around the ridge of his head, you gave the most gentle and subtle strokes, and leaned in to whisper against his ear.

“Is this why you wanted me to edge you today, James? So you could show me how good you can be?”

“I-I don’t know,” he blurted out, rocking his hips as best he could while restrained, “I just wanted to… I just wanted you to make me wait.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” you laughed slightly, “I can make you wait all day. Is that what you want?”

“No, that’s— not that long, I can’t wait that long,” he shuddered.

“Mm, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” you smirked. “Not sure why I asked what you want, honestly… cause I don’t fucking care.”

His choked-out whine was too perfect to ignore.

“Oh, what a pathetic little moan that was, poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, “are you regretting it now? You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into, ‘cause you’re worried Mistress is never gonna let you come.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” he denied weakly, “whatever you want— do whatever you want to me, just… give me what I deserve, please.”

You stopped touching him completely and he straight-up sobbed. “You don’t deserve anything from me, James. You don’t deserve me at all.”

He told you before that he liked when you rapidly cycled between soft and mean. Kept him on his toes, apparently. Honestly, you felt a little guilty talking to him that way sometimes, but his cock leaking enough pre-cum to soak the bedsheets beneath him was a sign you were doing something right. “I know!” he cried. “I know, fuck, I’m sorry, but I need you. I fucking need you, Mistress, please— you know I’ll do anything.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” you shrugged, “so I won’t ask you for much. Just beg me a little more.”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he rushed, “touch me. Anywhere, whatever you want, I just need to feel you. I know I… fuck, I know I don’t deserve it, but let me try to— to earn it. Please.”

You knew if he had it his way, he wouldn’t do much talking at all. But you couldn’t just let him have it his way, now could you? It was better to make him just the right amount of nervous, just the slightest hair uncomfortable, by making him talk to you. And, of course, you liked the way his deep and rough voice got all whiny and needy like this.

One finger under his chin guided him to look up at you, those pretty blue eyes watery and sparkling and wide with misplaced innocence.

“Tell me who you belong to, James,” you instructed darkly.

“You, Mistress,” he whispered, “I’m yours, I— oh fuck…”

Unshockingly, he was reduced to only moans again when you started stroking his cock, the slick precum making every movement smoother. “All mine, huh? My little toy?” you confirmed, but he could only nod and swallow thickly.

You sped up quickly, getting faster and faster until you were really, properly jerking him off and he was biting hard on his lip. Just when he seemed to really fall into it, get almost comfortable, you had to stop.

"Oh, fuck—" he gasped, bucking his hips up to try to chase your hand when you pulled away, but it was no use with him tied up. You watched his cock bob in the air and smiled.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” you smirked.

Shaking his head, you tilted yours to look at him, reaching up to trace your fingers over his chest.

“Don’t lie, baby, you thought I was gonna let you come, didn’t you? You’re so sweet, James, and so, so stupid.”

He gasped, and for a second you thought you might’ve gone too far, but it shifted to a moan quickly and you realized he was having the time of his life.

“Just my dumb, brainless little toy,” you continued with a snarl, watching him tug at the ropes as his eyes fluttered shut. “It’s okay, James, it’s okay… you don’t need to think, I don’t want your mind. It’s useless. I want this pretty cock, that’s all I want from you.”

“It’s all yours, Mistress,” he promised, cheeks burning bright red and eyes forced shut. “All of it, I swear.”

“I know,” you cooed, holding his face gently to soothe him a bit. But then your other hand wrapped around his cock and he was anything but soothed. “Shh, shh, don’t make any sounds, you’re just a toy and toys need to stay quiet.”

You missed his noises, actually, but he looked so cute biting his lip and struggling to suppress them. His cock was so swollen in your hand that you honestly wondered if it was somehow getting bigger. Was that even possible? Your mouth was watering regardless.

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” you promised gently, “but I’ll be honest, pretty boy… I don’t think you’re gonna like it one bit.”

The look he gave you beautifully balanced fear with anticipation, and you stopped stroking him to reach over towards the bedside drawer and pull out a vibrator.

“Your Mistress is feeling a little.... self-indulgent today,” you winked. “And since I, unlike you, don’t need to hold myself back from coming, I think I might as well get myself off if I want to.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly, watching you closely as you stood up off the bed and started to carefully undress yourself. It was a lot more fun to get naked when you were wearing something that didn’t actually show much skin— the button-up seemed to really get him going, his tongue mindlessly darting out to lick his lips as you opened one button at a time.

Once it was off your shoulders and on the floor, and he could see the almost-transparent bra you had on, you moved to opening your trousers as well. Just to be mean, you faced the other way as you pushed them down over your ass; you heard his breath catch and you smirked to yourself, spinning to face him again in just the matching, dark red bra and panty set.

“What do you think, do you like this better than the black ones?” you asked coyly.

“I like you naked better than both,” he answered, and you grinned.

“I’m gonna let that backtalk slide just once because it’s not worth my time to go over there and slap you for it,” you decided. “But don’t test me, James.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully, sounding a bit out of breath as he watched you climb back onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully.

You faced him straight-on and laid your legs over his, meaning your lace-covered pussy was in full view and only inches from his leaking cock— the damn thing looked sore by now, purple at the tip and just as desperate for attention as the rest of him.

When you pulled the fabric aside to show him your cunt, he hissed and looked away.

“Look at me, James, keep your eyes open,” you demanded, seeing how totally wrecked he looked when he turned his head back to you and stared down at your body with half-lidded eyes. “Look at how fucking soaked my pussy is. You remember how it feels to be inside it, don’t you?”

He swallowed, sighed, and finally (just barely) nodded.

“You remember how hot and wet and tight it is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he choked.

“Well, that memory’s all you’ve got to work with, sweet boy, because I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you fuck this pussy again.”

He really, properly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and those arms flexed against the ropes defiantly. “N-no, please—”

“I’m gonna make myself come with this,” you promised, interrupting him as you grabbed the vibe, “and I want you to remember how it feels when I come around you, okay?

Turning it on, you wasted no time pressing it to your clit, moving the end of the toy in slow circles and keeping a close eye on him as he watched you. Your intention had always been to give him a show, but the embarrassing thing was how little of it was an act. Ironically, even though you’d been edging him this whole time, having to touch him that way without any pleasure for yourself was almost as torturous. You’d soaked through your panties by the time you had him tied up, to be totally honest. So, giving into it and letting yourself feel good was a breeze.

“Think about when I was riding you, James,” you instructed, your own voice clearly affected by your pleasure now. “Think about how good it would feel if I let you come inside me.”

“Oh, god,” he cried, leaning his head back.

“Think about my pussy milking every fucking drop of come out of you. You know I wouldn’t let you stop until I was completely full of your come, I bet you’d like that. I bet you’d like to eat your come out of me, you sick little pervert.”

“Fuck!” he yelped, tugging at the ropes harder now— for a second you thought he might really break them and jump you. And for a second, you knew you’d let him. It made your walls clench as you imagined facing the consequences of driving a man to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t help but fuck you like an animal. It was a good thing he didn’t see you bite your lip as you imagined that.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” you taunted.

“God, don’t tell me,” he sighed through his teeth, but obviously you ignored him.

“I’m thinking about what a good boy you are for me,” you cooed, your hips starting to rock up against where you held the end of the vibrator; you pressed it down harder onto your clit and moaned instantly. “Yeah, I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you’re all desperate and needy and fucking pathetic—”

“Oh—” he choked.

“My dumb litlte whore, that’s all you are, James,” you groaned. “I know you wish you could touch me, it’s all you can think about, right? That pretty head of yours would be completely empty if it weren’t for thoughts of me and how badly you want me. Right?”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

A shiver ran up your spine when the vibrator bumped into a more sensitive part of you, and you did it again and again until you thought you might lose it a bit faster than you meant to. “This toy feels really good,” you informed him in a purr, gasping when you slipped the vibrating body of it into your pussy, “but it doesn’t feel as good inside me as you do.”

His eyes fell shut but he still winced a bit every time you made a sound; he couldn’t run from this, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh James,” you moaned loudly, fucking yourself with the vibe for a moment before you pulled it back out to focus even harder on your clit, “I’m gonna come. I’m so, so close… I can feel it getting stronger, I think I might make a mess on these sheets. And the only way I’m ever gonna let you come is if you watch me do it. So open your fucking eyes.”

He blinked quickly as he opened them, gaze scanning your whole body before settling on your cunt; you were sure he could see it pulsing as you got closer and closer, you knew he was imagining how it would feel. You only spared a brief glimpse at his cock, bobbing between his legs, and wished you could just slip it in you now and come while it stretched you out.

But that wasn’t what he was here for, sadly, and you were sure you were the only being truly denied of your desires, despite how it probably seemed from the outside.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, numbness starting to tingle in your legs as your orgasm built up quicker than even you expected. “I’m coming— James, I’m coming, oh, fuck… right there— yes!”

A gush of heat warmed your cunt at the same time that shocks ran up your spine and down your limbs; you could feel your legs shaking, and you knew he could, too.

It got so intense for a second that you had to pull the vibrator away, though you didn’t stop coming until a few moments later, eyes falling shut without you meaning for them to.

You actually laughed a bit, breathlessly, as you turned the vibe off and set it aside, although you weren’t sure exactly what was supposed to be funny about this per se. When you opened your eyes, you saw James looking down and looking positively defeated. But he looked tense, too, and you sat up on your wobbly legs to get closer to his face.

“Relax, James,” you told him firmly as you examined him.

“I— I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why not?”

“I’ll come.”

Nothing could fight your wide grin anymore, not when you heard that. “Oh, baby… are you about to come without even being touched? Is that how much you liked watching Mistress come?”

He nodded, ever so slightly, and you laughed. Not quite a mocking laugh, moreso impressed. Prideful, even. You leaned in to give a wet kiss to his neck, licking over his pulse as he shivered violently.

“That’s my good boy,” you whispered against his skin. He whined and you cooed soothingly right away, “oh I know, I know. It’s so unfair, isn’t it? Mistress gets to come and you don’t…”

“Please,” he stammered, “I’m so close, let me come, please.”

“But I don’t wanna see you come, baby— I wanna see you cry.”

You started to slide your hand down his chest and he jumped up to attention as he tried to squirm away. “No, please, don’t— don’t touch my cock, not if I can’t come.”

“You can hold it in, can’t you?” you pouted.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” he sobbed, watching fearfully as your hand moved down to his stomach and over his hips.

“But I thought you were my good boy,” you frowned, suddenly wrapping your hand tight around his cock as he choked on a gasp.

“Mistress!” he sobbed. “Please, don’t— don’t move your hand, I’ll come.”

"Never fucking tell me what to do," you instructed firmly, just barely stroking as he cried weakly. "I'm gonna touch you however I want and you're not gonna come because you're my good boy, right?"

"No, Mistress, I can't stop it, I'm gonna come— stop, please…"

"You'd better not fucking come," you hissed through your teeth, speeding up your movements and watching his eyes shoot wide open, "you'd better hold it in until I'm done with you."

"I'm trying— please slow down, can't take it—"

You shook your head, tutting disapprovingly. "No, baby, I tell you what you can take."

"Oh— oh god, Mistress, please, please stop, please, I c-can't— fuck!"

You pulled your hand away the second his cock started to flex but it was too late: come was shooting from his swollen tip and painting his chest and stomach. You didn't even wait until he was done to backhand him across the face.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it…"

You softened slightly when you heard his broken voice, saw the desperation and fear on his face— it was real, more real than the fake ‘no’s and the encouraging pleas for mercy. "Baby, it's okay, you tried so hard," you soothed instantly.

Hope filled his eyes just as much as tears as he looked up at you. "Am I still your good boy?"

"Always," you smiled, caressing his face where it was already turning red from your slap.

You reached down and caressed his cock with the back of your fingers, watching it flex weakly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

His lip twitched, almost like a wince. “Do we… do we have to stop?”

You quickly glanced at the clock. “Um, no,” you mumbled, “we still have time. Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna watch you come again…” he admitted softly. “Is… is that okay?”

Although you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, you were still surprised. “Yeah, sure.”

“But… but closer this time,” he added, “not so far away.”

You were literally laying on top of him, how did that count as far away?

“I wanna see your face,” he clarified.

“Okay,” you nodded, deciding to indulge him. It was sort of like aftercare, except that this wasn’t exactly the ‘after’ part yet.

On your knees beside where he was leaning back against the headboard, you slipped your hand down into the lace panties again, finding your clit still swollen but not too sensitive. A little gasp fell from your lips when you touched it, rubbing it carefully with two fingers while he looked up at your face.

You felt slightly exposed when he watched you this close, and you didn’t know where to look to avoid direct eye contact. Looking at his lips was just a little too tempting, so that wouldn’t work.

“My hands are a little tired,” you explained, “they might cramp up. Maybe I could use your thigh…”

“O-okay,” he nodded, and you removed your fingers from your panties to sit down on the thick muscle of his leg. You felt him tense up under you slightly, and you carefully began to rock your hips until your clit rubbed just right against the inside of your underwear. Surely he could feel how wet you were— actually, you both could hear it, almost a wet clicking-like noise as the soaked lace slid against your skin.

The dynamic shifted slightly, not that you minded it, as he watched you ride him carefully. Just as he couldn’t hide much from you when he was naked and tied up and baring his soul to you in the kinkiest way possible, you couldn’t hide your pleasure from him when he was looking at your face so up-close. You let your hands carefully roam his body, narrowly avoiding the trails of cooling come he’d left on his stomach and chest, until you found his strong shoulders and held onto them for balance.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, biting your lip as your sore clit throbbed against his hard, muscular thigh.

“Will you… could you kiss me?” he requested quietly, and your heart broke a little bit. You shook your head, and he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll kiss you here,” you offered instead, whispering against his skin before you pressed your lips to his forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw. “Is that better, James?”

“It helps,” he agreed in a sigh.

“I’m close,” you warned quietly, pressing your cheek to his and weaving one hand into his hair. “I’m gonna come again, on your thigh.”

“Let me touch you,” he begged, “just a little, please…”

You nodded, about to reach forward to untie one of his hands, but he snapped the ropes and you had totally forgotten he could do that. He quickly ran his touch all over your body, calloused hands and bound wrists in stark contrast to your soft skin. The metal one was a little cold but it didn’t bother you; the other was almost too hot, and it was like being warmed and cooled all at once.

He ran his fingers down your spine, he gripped one of your shoulders, he rubbed your legs: he did everything he must have been wishing he could do this whole time, even gasping as he ran one hand up your chest and over a cup of your bra. Just as you sensed that he was about to ask if he could touch you there, you nodded and felt his metal hand tug down the red lace and grab your breast— thankfully not very hard, though he did give your nipple a quick pinch which made you gasp.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he finally settled his hands on holding your hips, just tight enough to slightly guide your movements as you rocked faster and more desperately. “Please come,” he begged weakly, “Mistress, please… use me.”

It sort of hit you all at once then, like a punch to the gut. Except, you know, a lot more fun than getting punched in the gut.

“James,” you gasped, legs quivering where they straddled his as a new patch of slick soaked the lace (and presumably his thigh as well). He held you tight, kept you moving through it while your fingers tangled in his hair and your mouth fell slack for another, louder moan.

The way his lips moved over your skin, laving your collarbones and pulse point and the innermost corner of your jaw, was positively worshipful; reverent. “Mistress,” he whispered, almost sounding like praise but tinted with awe. Your movements slowed down to a stop and the two of you breathed a sigh together, unintentionally. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” you asked, blinking quickly and looking down at him, coming back to reality (though you weren’t quite sure where else it was that you had just been).

“I dunno, everything,” he decided.

“Don’t thank me,” you smiled. “Keep paying me, though.”

He laughed a little, glancing away. “Yeah, and I’ll pay you back for these ropes… sorry."

"No, hey, don't be sorry," you dismissed, getting up off of his leg and standing up to go grab a towel for him. "I'm just sorry we still haven't found anything strong enough to hold you."

"It's fine, they're strong enough to make me stop myself when I want to do something I shouldn't, that's all that really matters."

You nodded to yourself as you dampened the towel and came back to wipe him off.

"I can do that for myself," he reminded you, sounding a bit embarrassed, but you thought it was sweet.

“You just focus on getting those ropes off of yourself,” you decided with a little smile.

#sub!bucky barnes x domme!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

mere monstrosity (1)

warnings: spiders, misunderstandings, captivity

Logan woke up to the familiar soft chime of his alarm, and rolled out of bed bleary-eyed but ready to get the day started. He kept quiet as he crept out of the room.

He didn’t bother grabbing his glasses, knowing that they’d only be of use after his shower. His feet knew the way from his bedroom to the bathroom by heart, and he preferred to shower in the dark to avoid the likelihood of getting one of his light-sensitivity migraines, so he didn’t reach for the lightswitch either.

Instead, he pushed quietly past the half-open door and fumbled for the shower knob, cranking it up to exactly the point before it turned scalding.

The water flickered on a moment later, and amidst the clamor of droplets against ceramic, he heard an indistinct, high-pitched noise, like a chirp or squeak.

“A mouse?” he muttered to himself, squinting at the dark, blurry interior of the shower.

He couldn’t hear anything else over the spray, so he quickly turned the shower off and stepped back to flick the lightswitch on, potential headaches be damned.

He pulled the shower curtain fully to the side, and blinked at the sight of a blurry black splotch in the corner of his bathtub. Leaning in a little further, he could briefly make out individual legs, long and numerous, before they were pulled closer and blended in with the rest of the shape.

“You are… a considerably large spider,” he informed it, grateful that it was him and not Patton who had found it. The resulting terrified shriek would have woken him and Janus, and probably most of the neighbors for that matter. “Are you a tarantula? Are tarantulas even native to this area?”

The spider, rather predictably, didn’t respond, and Logan recalled that he’d just doused the poor thing with jets of cold water. It was probably curling all its limbs in a mock death-curl, trying to process the unexpected threat to its breathing and body temperature.

He reached over to the counter and carefully removed the collection of multicolored toothbrushes from the plastic cup next to their sink, tapping it against the side of the counter to clear out any remaining dust.

“Try to stay still, alright?” he coaxed in a low voice, crouching and leaning over the tub to get a better angle. “I don’t want to catch any of your limbs, just keep them all tucked in close like that and I’ll get you out of there.”

To his surprise, the spider really didn’t make any sudden moves, remaining frozen as he settled the cup over it. The only reason he was sure it was still alive was the tiny motion of its front legs, two little investigative nudges against the edge of the cup.

“Excellent job,” he praised, his curiosity only growing. Most of the spiders he had cupped would immediately run at the glass with arms lifted in threat, or run in frantic circles along the edges seeking an escape. Of course, none of them had been this large. Most wild tarantulas were hunters, though, not spinners. Aggression would serve them well, so why was this one so docile? Was it an escaped pet? Had the cold water been that shocking?

He quickly retrieved a folder from the living room, returning to find that the plastic cup had shifted a couple of inches. It was large enough to push it, then.

“Just a little bit more,” he continued to soothe, carefully sliding the folder under the cup bit by bit, allowing the spider time to shift its legs onto the folder so the tips wouldn’t be pinched. He then carefully lifted the whole ensemble up, keeping a cautious hand on top of the cup. “There we go.”

The kitchen was dimly lit, the small light under the microwave still on so that anyone getting water in the middle of the night wouldn’t trip or run into anything in the dark. Logan glanced at the front door for a long moment, and then gave in to the urge to investigate his catch a bit closer. It would be irresponsible to just release a domesticated tarantula into the wild, after all.

He set the cup and folder down carefully on the counter, and then placed a heavy ceramic plate on top of the cup, reasoning that it was better to make sure the spider wouldn’t push the cup-- and itself-- right off the counter.

“One moment.” That done, he went into his room to retrieve his glasses, leaving the light off so as to not wake up Janus, who had only gotten in from his night shift a few hours ago. His roommate normally slept heavily once he managed to get to sleep, so Logan didn’t have to worry about waking him by climbing out of their shared bed, but better not to risk turning the lights on in the first place.

The world came into a much clearer focus once he’d pushed his glasses into their proper place atop his nose, and with his vision improved, he had no problems finding the hall closet and rummaging through it for one of Janus’s old terrariums.

He set the glass case down on the kitchen counter without any furnishings inside-- he was only planning to get a good look at the specimen, after all-- and flicked on the kitchen light before carefully moving the trapped spider into the terrarium and then lifting the cup away.

The spider frantically scuttled back, smacking thorax-first into the glass wall of the terrarium, and Logan frowned contemplatively at the sight of it.

It was certainly a tarantula, one that he’d probably be able to find online fairly easily with the distinctive white stripes along it’s eight fuzzy legs. Concerningly enough, there was an odd swelling protrusion on the anterior part of the body. It was a similar dark shade to the rest of the body, but almost larger than the thorax, and it blocked off any sight of the pedipalps, fangs, or eyes.

The texture didn’t seem to match the carapace… Perhaps it was a piece of garbage or organic waste that had gotten stuck on the creature? If it hindered movement, that could explain why it had been so still earlier.

It wasn’t still now, exhibiting an odd vibrating throughout its body that Logan had never witnessed from a spider before. He would certainly be doing some research into arthropods after this.

Well, at the very least, he could see if that protruding material would come loose.

Logan carefully pulled on one of Janus’s thick leather gloves, one of the more worn sets in case the spider had urticating hairs, and then reached down. The spider seemed to spot his shadow, going by the way it stiffened, and he reminded himself that though he didn’t know the species and many tarantulas were venomous, it was incredibly unlikely their venom would be able to do more than hurt him.

Confidence restored, he continued reaching down until his fingers met the odd lump, at which point a low, guttural hiss sounded, and the spider threw its front legs up and lunged, slapping its limbs down against the floor of the terrarium in threat.

Logan remained undeterred by the small tantrum, instead focusing on the fact that the obstruction was loose, almost like shed skin on a snake. Studying the spider carefully, he pinched it gently between two fingers, trying to discern what in the world it could possibly be.

The next three movements happened in rapid succession.

First, Logan tugged lightly at the material caught between his fingers. Second, the spider recoiled sharply, pulling away from his grip with surprising strength. And third, the covering came loose, the spider pulling free from it and leaving a limp swathe of fabric hanging from Logan’s fingers.

Below him, now uncovered, there was pale skin, a mop of bedraggled hair, and a tiny, terrified human face.

Logan froze, staring down at it-- them with wide eyes.

The being he’d mistaken for a spider was actually a drider, a creature of myth that was apparently all too real. Logan couldn’t help how stunned he felt. Even apart from the shock of the discovery, there was the shock of their size. Driders were said to have a human-sized spider half, not the other way around!

Below, the drider was still frozen in place, staring right back up at him. He could see the way their little chest was heaving with quick, panicked breaths, could feel the way the tiny makeshift poncho in his hand was sodden and cold, and he felt guilt strike him like a ruler across knuckles.

“I-- Hold on a moment, please,” he managed, his mind racing as he stepped back, turning and hurrying out of the room.

Once again, the hall closet held exactly what he needed, and he mentally rescinded all his past complaints about the amount of extra snake care items Janus had stashed away in their storage closet like a dragon’s hoard.

The heat lamp was compact enough to fit easily in the terrarium, where the spider-person had scuttled back to press themself into the furthest corner, limbs pulled in tightly in what had to be a fear response.

Logan set the lamp carefully inside and plugged it in, sighing in relief when the bulb lit up and began to glow orange. “This lamp is designed for reptiles, not arthropods, so it may be too hot for extended use. However, it will work temporarily as a heat source to get rid of excess moisture, so I encourage you to use it.”

The drider was glaring up at him with the tiniest scowl he’d ever seen, front legs still lifted up defensively, but didn’t say a word.

“Do you speak?” Logan asked, and received only silence in return. “I suppose I should have guessed as much, seeing as you haven’t responded to any of my previous statements. Do you understand me? Do we speak the same language?”

The drider glared harder.

“I find it hard to believe that you have animal-level intelligence,” Logan continued, now mostly to himself. He lifted a hand, displaying the poncho he still held. “Although some birds can ‘sew’, construction of clothing to cover one’s form is a complex and distinctly human sentiment.”

Still, nothing. Their gaze was caught by the poncho for a moment before they looked away entirely, looking for all the world to be sulking.

Logan sighed, and then slowly moved to place the poncho next to the heat lamp, laying it out flat for easier drying. “I’m going to attend to my morning routine. It should only take me a few moments, but please feel free to call or make noise if you need my attention between now and then.”

The drider’s expression had eased into confusion at the sight of their garment laid out before them, but their legs remained warily upright as Logan left the room.

As promised, he only made a brief stop to make sure both of his roommates were still soundly asleep before climbing into the shower and preparing himself for the day, roughly fifteen minutes behind schedule.

It wasn’t too disruptive-- it had eaten into the time he normally allotted for sitting at the table and eating breakfast, so that would have to be skipped today, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Honestly, he’d likely spend the rest of the day thinking about the surprise addition to his morning. There were so many questions he’d love to ask, but seeing as the creature had attempted to hide their existence even at risk of being perceived as a normal spider (and therefore possibly squashed), he expected he wouldn’t be receiving any answers.

Talkative or not, the drider clearly had sapient levels of intelligence, and Logan was loath to start off humanity’s relationship with a vulnerable and secretive species by keeping them trapped in a snake terrarium against their will.

Even if he was willing to weigh scientific advancement over his morals, his roommates would never allow it. Patton would naturally be terrified and possibly sympathetic when witnessing their clear terror, and he’d had enough extensive debates on ethics with Janus to know that his opinion on keeping them captive would be much the same.

So, when he returned to the kitchen and saw them toppling over and scurrying back from the heat lamp that they’d clearly been attempting to use as a makeshift ladder to freedom, Logan didn’t bother commenting, simply moving forward and looking them over.

“You seem to have mostly dried,” he stated instead, able to appreciate the subtle design work of the poncho better now that it wasn’t being used as camouflage. The drider gripped it like they thought he might take it away.

They would react fairly badly to him reaching out with his hand, and reasonably so. Logan hadn’t exactly done much except douse, capture, and then gently interrogate them. Not exactly trustworthy behavior.

He studied the terrarium for a moment before grabbing a washcloth and draping it over the side, providing an easy textured surface for the spider to climb up. There. “You are free to go.”

The surprised expression that flashed across their face was almost comical.

“I’m not sure what your purpose in the bathroom was, but I’d ask you to be more careful in the future. One of my roommates…,” Logan sighed through his nose, exasperated even imagining it. “Well, suffice to say you should avoid him at all costs.”

The tiny drider continued to stare at him, gaze occasionally flickering over to the towel with clear suspicion. It was saddening to be so distrusted, but perhaps this show of goodwill would help prove that he didn’t intend any harm? He hoped he hadn’t frightened them from the residence entirely-- he shuddered at the many, many potential dangers the creature would find outside.

“My roommates will wake later in the day, so if you intend to avoid their notice, I’d suggest leaving the enclosure as soon as I have departed for work,” he gave a little farewell wave, not reacting to the slight flinch it elicited from the little guy. “It-- well, you probably don’t share the sentiment, but still-- it was nice to meet you. Goodbye.”

Forcing himself not to turn back and get one last look, Logan hurried out the door.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts logan #ts virgil #tiny drider au #drider #mere monstrosity #mm #g/t #spiders tw #well just one but yknow #sorry for late posting i forgot it was saturday #time is fake #my writing #writing

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heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

The One Where She Got A Dog

Yelena Belova X Reader

Summary: how Yelena became a dog mom Masterlist Part 2

Tags: E | 1.8k words | scary movie, winter, secret pasts, sapphic

AN: Black Widow movie really got me in my feelings about those characters, Yelena in particular. I havent watched The Thing in almost a year please look the other way if movie events are out of order.

Pretty Russian girls are not usually your type, but fuck if you weren't absolutely obsessed with this one. You laughed when she told you she was from Ohio. She laughed when you said you were too.

Aquavit and your grandma's biscuit recipe brought her into your cabin on the edge of the world where she admitted to you she had never seen John Carpenter's The Thing before. You turned it on just as the snow storm set in and wrapped up in your thickest blankets with her. You're trying not to get your hopes too high but she's not shy about asking you to scoot closer.

"Skäl," you cheer just as the ominous opening credits end and they find the mysterious ship in the frozen wasteland of antarctica.

"Have you ever been?," Yelena asked.

You grimace at the strong taste of aquavit. It's like vodka but with caraway for 'flavor'. You look at her from the side and poor yourself a second shot. "Been…?"

"There." She points at the screen.

"I have actually," you admit in a way you hope is flat and uninteresting, "have you?"

Yelena shook her head. It's possible she might think you're being sarcastic (you cross your fingers under the blanket and hope she does). She's smiling at you, thinking something (but still watching the screen with interest).

She drops the subject until you have to pause the movie to pee. You unwrap yourself from the cocoon of blankets and as you stand she asks you another question.

"What were you doing there? in Antarctica, I mean."

You sigh and pretend to brush something off of your pants. "Science trip with my parents. Shitty vacation for me I'd rather be in the Bahamas."

You resist the urge to look at her. After taking care of business, you come back just in time to put the biscuits in the oven. You hear Yelena lean into the kitchen archway as the floors creak immensely here.

"No timer?," she asked.

"No timer," you confirm. "I use the timer of my heart."

Yelena scoffs. "Please don't burn them, I'm curious about these… what are they– pastries?"

"Something like that."

The two of you went back to the movie just as the gang on screen is trying to decipher who is human and who is not. You feel like something between you has changed and sadly not for the better.

But she can't know.

"I hate this part," you say, making absolutely no move to avert your gaze.

Yelena is startled when the doctor's arms become trapped in the bear trap belly mouth of the "man" on the table. She quickly covers her eyes and giggles manically, slapping your chest for the vague and unhelpful warning. You realize she's not as close to you as before…

There's 20 minutes left of this movie and you haven't seen a single thing on screen. Yelena stopped asking you questions when you stopped being coherent with your answers. All you can think about is telling her.

But you can't tell her. She would never understand. You barely understand and it's about you.

"I lied." Your heart beats in your throat as you see her face you but you can't look at her directly for fear of losing your nerve. "About the science expedition? That's not why I was in Antarctica…"

Yelena seems to wait for you to continue but…

"Eh, no offense but, " you gesture with your hand, "I don't really know you like that."

Yelena gave your reply a single nod. "I suppose that's fair."

You can't help but fidget in your seat. "Idliketo"

"What was that?"

You cleared your throat. "I said… I said I'd like to. Know you like that, I mean…"

Yelena gives you a smile. "I would like to know you like that, too."

The movie ends, the biscuits are not burnt but buttery soft and golden brown, and the blizzard outside has subsided some. It's still going but at least it's not buffering the doors and windows like before.

"How can you watch that film in a place like this?" Yelena cannot get enough of those biscuits, stuffing them in her mouth 2 at a time. "Does it make you paranoid?"

"Yes it does," you say, putting your coat on, "I think that's what makes it so much scarier– looking outside and being scared every person you come across ain't who they say they are. Sometimes its not a bad thing though... I think it is rather… poetic, too."

Yelena's eyebrows furrow. "Where are you going?"

You put on your boots and hope the duct tape stays on the hole you covered earlier. "Dogs are out in the shed. It's heated and they have food, but not for days and I'd rather have 'em in the house where I can take care of them."

As you finished your sentence you reached for the door, but stopped when you noticed Yelena getting dressed too. She gives you a nod as soon as her hood comes up, and you give this brave thing an appreciative once over.

The snow that nearly all melted before is up to your knees now. Fresh, white, and fluffy. It muffles sound like the world's sidelong turning. The odd snowflake wafts lazily from the sky, but for the most part it's died down. You teach back and take Yelena's gloved hand to keep from staying too far apart.

"You know I always wanted a dog," she said. She could have said it in a whisper from 100 yards away and you still would have heard her– that is how eerily quiet it is.

Yelena squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. She's probably remembering the movie. You try to distract her by saying, "Oh yeah? You can have one of mine then."

Yelena laughs, then stops. "You serious?"

"As a heart attack." You finally reach the door to the shed and unlatch the door. A chorus of barks begin and you charge forward to nudge them back to give Yelena space to come in as well. "I do some breeding up here– just a side job. They're usually working dogs but they can be pets too."

Buck licks your face from chin to forehead and you push him back. "Down, boy! Show some respect!"

Yelena has two of the mongrels circling her, sniffing all her clothes and demanding to be pet. "That's Burt, Barney, and Bella. Buck's my stud, but these heathens are going to a farm. They've got sheep to watch."

Yelena chuckles as her hands get covered in slobber. "I love them."

They're almost grown, three quarters the height of their father. Buck didn't even look in Yelena's direction because he knows you give him treats. You take your scarf off as the heat of the shed threatens to smother you and search your pockets for jerky.

"She's in there with the new puppies." You point to a darkened closet. "Don't get too close now, she's still a little protective."

Yelena creeps closer. You see her look at you from the corner of her eye. Probably terrified by the morphing dog scene from the movie. You give her an encouraging smile and tell her where to find the light. It's a pull cord and it bathes the room in a warm golden yellow light.

Yelena's heavy, controlled breathing turns into a coo. Mama dog is laying on her side watching the newcomer closely. There's a pup asleep in the nest of her legs, another chewing on the hay that litters the ground, and the last one is biting their mother's ear. Yelena looks back at you with an adorable pout on her lip.

"So cute…"

You chuckle and put your arm around her. Buck knows to steer clear of mama dog and slinks off. You make your guest walk closer with you to show mama she's got your confidence.

"Yelena, this is Beyonce." Mama dog's ears perk at the sound of her name. "Beyonce, this is Yelena. Be nice."

You reach down and scoop up the hay eating puppy at your feet. "This one's always hungry."

You put the pup in her arms and scoop up the biter. "This one likes to play. All the time. Got more energy than the blue Energizer bunny actually."

The pup in question is literally trying to wriggle out of your hands in its eagerness to climb you and eat your hair.

"And that one sleeps a lot?" Yelena nodded her head at the last pup.

"Pretty much." You put the writhing excited puppy down before it hurts itself and look up into the rafters. "And then there's the climber…"

You both turn your heads when you hear a tiny bark. A cute little face stares down at you from the rafters and there's a feather stuck to its nose. You shake your head knowing this pup got it from ripping up pillows in another part of the dog house.

"Better go get her," you said, not moving an inch to do so.

Yelena sees your challenge and rises to it. As if trained to do exactly so, she assesses the wooden interior for foot and hand holds. You can see the wheels turning in her head as she calculates what will and won't support her weight. In the sweep of a single moment, she rises from the door and swings herself into the rafters using a build up a momentum to propel her fast in an upperward direction. She completes the climb and balances with ease, reaching out to collect the happy wagging miscreant from her mountain top, tucks her in her jacket and climbs a different way down.

You stare at her. "Were you raised by trapeze artists?"

Yelena laughs. "I thought everybody was."

The pup is safe and happy and eager to explore its new friend. Yelena lets her lick, sniff, and scratch at her skin, her clothes, her hair. The pup catches Yelena with a tiny lick right on the tip of her nose and Yelena looks back at you with adoring eyes.

You smile. "Got a name for her already don't you?"

"Yes," Yelena whines, "no, are you sure about this? I should probably tell you I've never had a dog before…"

"I can tell your good people," you reply. "And smart as a whip. You'll adapt, just call me if you ever need anything."

Three weeks later you get a phone call from an unknown number. It's Yelena giving you an address and making you swear never to tell anybody about it. You don't have any friends so it's an easy secret to keep.

You drive a few miles south and stumble upon a stationary trailer in the middle of nowhere, nothing but clearings and trees and sky. Actually very similar to your own home.

The door opens and Yelena greets you with a beer and the pup under her arm, already almost a foot bigger than she was before.

"Her name is Fanny." You both laugh yourselves hoarse and pile into the trailer to puppy proof the place.

#three bees writing #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x female reader #black widow #black widow spoilers #black reader insert

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Cry-Baby

A commissioned continuation of this soulmate AU by the lovely @pokemonfreak666 - thanks for your patience, bby!!

Bakugou Katsuki x Female Reader, Kirishima Eijiro x Female Reader

TW non-con, nsfw, double penetration, rough fucking, minor mentions of blood, kidnapping

The water’s not hot enough.

It should be; it should burn. The knob’s twisted all the way up, steam rising in billowing clouds, fogging up the bathroom mirror, but it’s not hot enough. You can still feel them on you. Everything else – the blood, saliva, their cum, you’d watched it swirl down the drain, sitting on the shower floor, arms curled tightly around yourself as if that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart and shattering entirely.

But the water’s scalding, and you can still feel your soulmates’ hands crawling over you… their mouths… their cocks tearing you apart from the inside out. Why won’t it wash away? You’ve scrubbed and scrubbed, your skin’s red and raw but the filthy feeling won’t go.

And they’re just outside. Sitting in your bedroom, or maybe wandering around your living room, sprawled across your couch flipping through channels on the TV. Maybe they’re out there looking at the pictures that line your walls, you and your family, your friends. Fuck, maybe they’re in your kitchen, rifling through your fridge for a late night snack after fucking their soulmate six ways from Sunday.

You can’t go back out there. You don’t want to see them.

Is it awful to hope for some kind of horrifying villain attack or massive accident to force them to go and leave you in peace?

… Would they?

You can’t imagine Pro Heroes not running off to do their duty, but before a few hours ago, you couldn’t imagine them holding somebody down and raping them either, and clearly they had no qualms about doing that, so maybe your Heroes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

Then again, what difference would leaving make? They know where you live, probably where you work. There’s no anonymity anymore, it’s not like you can just slip away and hide from them.

You’ve been in the bathroom too long already, you know that – you can almost feel their anxious energy seeping through the crack in the door. Too much longer and they’ll surely come bursting in.

Patience clearly wasn’t their strong point, and it’s nothing short of a miracle they let you come in and shower alone. Kirishima at least had been more than eager to come join you, grinning widely and tugging you by the arm towards the bathroom– it’d been Bakugou, watching you pale and flinch through red, unreadable eyes who’d reined him back in.

Maybe he saw how scared you were, how fragile the thread that was holding you together was. Maybe he thought that gifting you these precious minutes alone after what they did would in any way come close to starting to mend the damage they’d just wrought.

Maybe he just hadn’t cared enough beyond getting his dick wet.

You’d grown up thinking your soulmates would make you happy, love you in a way that nobody else ever could. The possibility of ever deliberately hurting them seemed like such a foreign and uncomfortable concept to you. But obviously they didn’t care enough about your feelings or your lack of consent to stop them from forcing themselves onto you, maybe you were nothing but an object to them. Something to take and fuck, because naturally you were made for them.

What did it matter if you didn’t want it?

Your eyes drift down to the timers on your wrists, run down to zero. A quaking sob rips from your throat and you bite down harshly on your bottom lip to stifle it.

“Why am I even here? In less than an hour you’re gonna meet them, and what am I supposed to do then, hmm?” your friend had asked with a laugh. “Be the world’s most awkward fourth wheel?”

You’d laughed with her, knocking your shoulders against hers with a fond little smile, “Well if they’re gonna be in my life for the long haul, don't you think it’s important that they meet the person who matters to me the most right off the bat?”

You’re terrified of going back out there and facing them, but what other option do you have? The only window in the bathroom is too high and too small to squeeze through, and even if you could, getting an apartment on the seventh floor had seemed like a great idea at the time, but it doesn’t exactly lend itself to an easy getaway.

The flimsy lock on the bathroom door is all that’s keeping them out – with their strength it’s hardly much of a barrier at all, but it’s all you have.

Here in your bathroom, under the scalding water, you’re safe. They can’t hurt you.

You’d like to think that now they’ve gotten what they wanted, now that they know that you can’t run and their reputations can’t be tarnished, they’ll go. And there’s a little voice inside your head that tells you it’s a stupid, foolish hope. You know that the moment you set foot outside that door, things’ll never be the same again.

A few years back, you read an article on some tabloid website about an up and coming Hero who’d disappeared out of the blue after joining Hawks’ agency as an intern. Supposedly, they were soulmates, and once the Pro realised it, he’d swooped her up and taken her to some secret safe house to hide her away from the rest of the world, supposedly ‘for her own protection’. It was all rumours, of course. No way for them to actually prove the theory – and no one actually cared about some missing, low level Hero at the end of the day. It was news for a week and then everybody moved on.

Are they gonna do the same thing to you?

Spirit you away to some hideout where they can keep you all to themselves – so they can fuck you whenever they want without having to worry about you running off? You’ll never see your family again, or your friends… they’ll be your entire world, and just like that intern, everybody else will forget you ever existed.

Or maybe they’ll be satisfied enough just forcing themselves into your life, letting you go back to your job, your boring, mundane nine to five, never knowing when they’re going to pop up and take what they want. They’ll come over and play house, acting as if this is a normal relationship, waiting for you to come around and accept them.

Love them.

The thoughts makes bile rise in your throat. Your entire body aches from inside out. There’s bitemarks and bruises littering your skin, marks that won’t fade for days… you can’t let them do this to you again.

As if they can hear your panicked thoughts, a knock sounds on the bathroom door, and your heart clenches.

“Hey, babe?” Kirishima calls out, “You okay? You’ve kinda been in there a while…”

That same voice, chanting breathlessly above you, “I love you, I love you– f-fuck– I love you!”

Panic, cloying and sharp tears at you. You try to answer, tell him to leave you alone, that you need more time, but the words catch in your throat and all that comes out is a pitiful squeak and he knocks again, louder, more insistent and it’s too much.

They're gonna break down the door and hurt you again. Hot tears well up and spill down your cheeks with an audible sob, and you clutch at yourself tighter, willing them away–

“Babe? Talk to us, sweetheart, you’re making us worried.”

The door handle jiggles insistently, and you bury your face between your knees breathing rapidly, they’re gonna break it down, they’re gonna break it down, they’re gonna–

“Move, Kiri,” Bakugou snaps.

You don’t register the snap of the lock breaking or the frantic footsteps that approach, the harsh sound of your heaving gasps drowning out all else. Then suddenly there’s strong, muscular arms pulling you out from the water with a muffled curse.

It’s Kirishima who’s holding you, you realise as a flash of blond darts back behind you to turn the shower off. And it’s suffocating, the way he clutches at you, big hands running along your back, pulling you closer, holding you tighter, words of comfort you can’t hear over the pounding of your own heart spilling from his lips.

And then Bakugou’s face is filling your vision, the scowl on his face growing more pronounced as he studies you – shaking, teary, eyes wide and swimming with fear–

Something inside of you just gives and you don’t fight it when the darkness swallows you whole.

—

When you come to, you’re lying on something soft – a bed, you realise, but not your own. There’s an arm slung over your waist; corded with muscles, tan, covered in fine, golden hair and faint white scars; Bakugou’s.

Which means that the warm breath gently tickling at your neck must belong to him as well.

You’re not naked at least; a quick glance down at your body revealing they’d dressed you in one of your old tees and a pair of panties. You’re not sure whether that observation is supposed to calm or unnerve you; you’d rather be clothed than not, but the thought of your soulmates rifling through your things, dressing you while you were unconscious… is not a pleasant one.

“You’re awake.” It’s an observation, not a question. His voice is gruff, an edge of sleepiness clinging to the words, but it lacks the heat you’ve come to expect from the explosive Hero. He sounds comfortable almost – at least that’s the sense you get as his face presses up against the nape of your neck, his arm drawing you closer with a low groan.

Still, you haven’t uttered a sound.

It feels surreal, lying there in your captor’s arms – and he is your captor, soulmate or no, there’s no denying that fact anymore. There’s a part of you that realises that you should be panicking, kicking scratching and clawing because you don’t know where you are, but it’s certainly not your apartment and you definitely don’t want him touching you after what he’s already put you through.

But rather than the sheer, unrelenting panic that had gripped you before, it’s just… nothing. Dormant, lying simmering just below the surface, and you’re almost scared to draw breath, to shatter the sweet, tender facade between the two of you.

There’s no point in asking where you are, no point in demanding he let you go. They’ve shown you that what you want doesn’t matter here, so instead you ask the obvious question.

“Where’s Kirishima?”

Bakugou grunts, burrowing himself closer. It’s not cold in the room, but his bare skin burns like a furnace, just on the wrong side of comfortable. “Makin’ breakfast.”

Breakfast.

You swallow tightly, but Bakugou isn’t done.

“Scared the shit out of us, fainting like that,” he scoffs. “Should’a fuckin’ known you’d need us to come take care of you.”

His fingers, resting over your stomach, dip lower, sliding roughly beneath the hem of your panties as he grinds his hips along your ass. He’s hard already, you can feel every inch of it, long and thick pressing insistently up against you.

Shame and indignation flare up like a match struck, but before you can even open your mouth to snap a retort, Bakugou yanks his hand out of your underwear to stuff his fingers inside your mouth.

Your first instinct is to bite down, but the blond at your back just growls, “Suck,” and you’re not stupid enough to think that hurting him (or trying to at least) is going to stop what’s about to happen.

Or maybe you’re just scared to test exactly how far you can push them before they really hurt you.

Obediently, your tongue swirls around his thick digits, hollowing out your cheeks and earning a grunt of appreciation from your soulmate.

“Always thought that my soulmate was gonna be someone strong,” he mutters, his hips still rocking up against yours. “Somebody who could keep up with Kiri ‘n me, hold their own in a fight. Never thought you’d be some weak as shit, quirkless little cry-baby.”

It stings more than it has any right to.

Slowly, his fingers slide from your lips, a long, thin glistening strand of saliva connecting the two. It’s hard to fight the whine that escapes you as they return to your pussy, angrily shoving aside your panties before thinking better of it and ripping them off of you completely. The warm puff of breath that ghosts across your skin sends shivers down your spine, and though you can’t see his face when he speaks next you can tell that he’s grinning.

“But fuck, sweetheart, you’re goddamn perfect – everythin’ we didn’t know we needed.”

He kisses you as his index and middle fingers plunge eagerly into your cunt, not the rough, biting kisses he’d gifted you with the night before, no. These are almost tender, sweet – or at least as sweet as a monster like Bakugou is capable of – entirely at odds with way his calloused fingers curl inside of you, fucking you, stretching you out while he cruelly thumbs at your clit.

Katsuki wants you strung out and whining for him. For Kirishima.

He wants you helpless.

“We’re gonna keep you nice ‘n safe, baby. Won’t have to worry about a goddamn fucking thing ‘cept keepin’ your soulmates happy.”

It sounds more like the passing of a sentence than a reassurance, but you can’t tell him that you don’t want this. He knows – he has to by now. He just doesn't care.

You don’t hear it when Kiri comes back, not when Bakugou’s sucking at your neck, your pussy throbbing with need as his fingers drive relentlessly into you, hitting your g-spot with every flick of his wrist.

You might not have noticed the redhead lingering in the doorway, his cock tenting in his pants, eyes dark and glazed over as he watches the show unfolding before him, but Bakugou certainly does.

“Oi, shitty hair. You just gonna stand there and watch or are you actually gonna fucking do something?” His voice is rough and a little breathless, closer to a growl than speech – it makes your gut clench, a shiver run down along your spine.

When your eyes finally do meet Kirishima’s, your heart squeezes, your stomach flipping. Kirishima’s staring at you like a wolf readying itself to pounce, like he wants to devour every inch of you and savour the taste.

He grins widely, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Bakugou’s the one with the bad reputation – as explosive as his quirk, brash at the best of times and overly aggressive even with his friends – you have every reason to be terrified of him, even before he broke into your home to take you.

Kirishima might be kinder, gentler with his touches (at least, he tries to be), but you’re a fool if you think you’re any safer with the redhead.

“Thought you said you were gonna wait,” he says, advancing towards the two of you as he kicks out of his shorts, but the grin on his face doesn’t waver for a second. He’s not nearly as put out as he pretends. “I could hear the pretty little thing moaning all the way in the kitchen.”

Shame would be enough to flood your cheeks with heat, but it’s the sight of Kiri’s cock, flushed an angry red, veiny and thick, hanging heavy between his muscular thighs that does the job. The spit in your mouth dries, your heart thumping unevenly even as pleasure pools in your gut courtesy of Bakugou’s attention. You let out a sharp shriek as he quickens his pace, one hand reaching to grab at his wrist, the other clutching desperately for purchase at the bedsheets, but it’s not enough.

Heat burns at your core, and unwittingly, you find your hips bucking up against him, fervently searching for more.

At your back, the blond chuckles, you feel the deep vibrations echoing through your chest, “Yeah, well you were taking too long.”

There might be more that he says, but at that moment he slides a third finger into your dripping cunt, calloused fingertips slamming against your tight, gummy walls and you’re robbed of the ability to think.

Your first orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, the building pleasure snapping like an elastic band stretched too far. A strangled moan slips out of your lips, and you don’t even notice the teeth sinking into your shoulder, Bakugou once more staking his claim as you cum for him. You quiver and quake in his grip, your cunt tightening around his digits and sucking them in further with a lewd squelching sound that you might be more embarrassed about if you could focus on anything but the pleasurable aftershocks of your peak.

All the while, Kirishima drinks you in, salivating at the sight of your drooling, fucked out expression, the syrupy slick that’s all but dripping out around Bakugou’s thick fingers, still stuffed deep inside of your pussy.

And maybe if he were a better man, he might allow you a moment to breathe and hurtle back down to earth, but patience has never been a virtue of his. He lunges forward faster than a man of his size has any right to, jumping onto the bed and all but tearing you out of Bakugou’s hold. You’re still reeling, panting and sore and dizzy with pleasure as Kirishima’s lips crash against yours, stealing what little breath you have left in a burning kiss.

Your attention’s caught on the way his tongue’s sliding against yours, trying to coax you into kissing back, the sharp, minty taste of him – you miss the way he grasps at his flushed, leaking cock, dragging it along your puffy slit. You miss the sound of Bakugou shedding his own pants.

You’re still weakly trying to push at his chest when Kiri slides his cock into your warm, welcoming cunt, his low, guttural moan lost to your lips. And despite Bakugou’s attempts at preparing you, it still burns, the sheer girth of his fat cock filling you up and stretching you uncomfortably. Tears sting at your eyes, a whimper catching in your throat as he hums in pleasure, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer, impaling you further onto his length.

Yet you’re not given a moment to accommodate the massive cock inside of you – not as you feel another blunt, flushed cockhead pressing up against your already stuffed pussy. Realisation hits a moment too late, your face blanching, your heart skipping a beat as panic – sheer panic – chokes at you.

You try to push back from Kiri’s embrace, only to feel Bakugou once again pressing up against your back, trapping you between them. You squirm in vain, trying to kick and push, fighting even as the blond’s cock, not as girthy as Kirishima’s but still far too big for you to take with Kiri still inside of you, starts to force its way into your plush, velvety walls.

“F-fuck, she’s tight,” he grunts as you arch up against Kiri, your tits, still covered by your thin, cotton tee, squishing up against his bare chest in an attempt to writhe away from the overwhelming feeling of fullness, the burning, stinging, throbbing pain between your legs.

But your soulmates are far from considerate, not even as you start to wail, your nails raking down the redhead’s broad shoulders.

“Your pussy’s a fuckin’ dream,” he continues, swearing with a hiss as he finally bottoms out.

It’s too much, you feel like you’re being split in two. Every twitch and throb of their dicks, every vein, every inch of them is pressed too tightly against you, your walls struggling to take them both. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, oh god it hurts so fucking bad, but neither one of them care as you start to sob–

No, Kiri just kisses away your tears, taking your face in his large hands and cooing sweetly when you beg them through gasping, heaving sobs to stop.

“You’re doing so good for us, baby. Look how well you’re taking our cocks – it’s like you were made for us,” he laughs at his own stupid joke, and all you can focus on is the pain as he starts to draw his hips back, your oversensitive walls screaming in protest. “We’re gonna make you feel so fucking amazing, just wait.”

And it’s not his wide, beaming grin that shatters you, or even the hunger blazing in those crimson depths. It’s not Bakugou panting at your back, his hands coming up to shove your top up so he can palm greedily at your tits, or even the lewd almost feral sounds the explosion Hero’s making as he and Kirishima settle into a maddening rhythm, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath and steady yourself as they fuck you.

No, it’s the sheer, feverish love you can see written across his face clear as day, the softness with which he holds you, even as he chases his own pleasure.

This is their version of love, and you – quirkless, weak as shit and entirely at their mercy – have no hope in hell of escaping it.

#yandere bnha #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere bakugou katuski x reader #yandere kirishima eijiro x reader #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere kirishima x reader #tw non con #tw kidnapping #tw blood #it's like one mention but still #me posting this when my dash is dead instead of at 2am #more likely than you think

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aalbedo · 3 years

Text

tartaglia x injured!reader

request: Hello! How about scenario where character offers help to injured!gn!reader, who is very mistrustful of and reluctant to accept it? I smh love the dynamic "no I don't want your help or anything to do with you but I don't really have a choice". And yeah, I feel like Tartaglia fits it well though you may choose whoever you feel like T v T

format: two-parter (part two here)

ship: tartaglia x reader

tags: reader is the traveler-ish (a completely separate character from aether and lumine, but still the traveler, does that make sense?)

warnings: blood, mildly graphic depiction of injury, stitches and needles

words: 1951

notes: this request awoke something in me, i feel like i could’ve written an entire 70k words fic on this if i had the energy. im sorry anon but i kinda went off the rails with this one hfjdkhfd i hope you still enjoy it. also yeah the header is mildly fucked up because i don’t have the energy to find a better png ok.

You fell to the ground, placing your hands right in a small puddle of your own blood, while a ruin hunter laid on the ground, defeated. Your legs had given in, as a sharp pain hit you through your entire left thigh. There was a large cut on your pants, through which you could see a long, bloody, wound on your skin left by the mechanical monstrosity. It wasn’t too deep, but damn if it hurt.

You squeezed your eyes closed, and let out a loud groan. Reaching a hand into your bag, you pulled out the antiseptic solution you always brought with you, and found out that the bottle was empty. You rummaged more through the bag, looking for a numbing cream, an analgesic potion, even just a remnant of a bandage, anything that could help. Nothing.

Panic started settling in your chest, you were completely alone, in the middle of Lisha, where Hilichurls could attack you at any moment, and you were injured just enough that you wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone run away or even fight. You laid down with your back to the ground and covered your face with your hands, as your palms suffocated another loud groan.

You would have to crawl all the way back to the city, or until you found someone willing to help you before fainting from the slow, but consistent, loss of blood. Or worse, dying from shock.

Suddenly, you heard a voice in the distance yell “hey!” Then a second time, with a clearly worried tone in their voice. The pain in your leg made it almost impossible for you to focus on recognizing who that voice belonged to, but it didn’t matter - you were about to finally get some help. You kept your eyes closed as you raised a hand and waved it, showing whoever your savior was where you were.

As you didn’t move from the ground, you heard steps, quickly getting closer to you, until you could feel the presence of someone right above you.

“Oh thank the Archons, I’m completely out of-” you opened your eyes and were met with two bright blue irises staring into yours, and all of the sudden you recognized the voice from before.

“Did that ruin hunter hit you?” Tartaglia was perched right next to your injured leg, already starting to open a backpack that you didn’t recognize as his. He moved his eyes to your thigh and reached out a hand towards it. You swiftly moved the leg away from him, forgetting that it would make it hurt even more, and whimpered when the pain grew.

“I don’t want help from a Harbinger, least of all you” you spat out as you slowly sat up and used your hands to back away from him.

“Stop moving, or you’ll make it worse,” he said plainly as he stood up and followed you, while you kept backing away ignoring the pain through your leg.

“I’ll lose a leg before I let the fatui help me.”

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just watch you crawl all the way back to the Harbor.” He crossed his arms. Oh, he thought he was being funny?

You kept backing away with your arms, until you felt something hard hit your back. A rather large rock was blocking your way, and you would have to crawl around it, and the young man laughed, slowly walking towards you as he took his gloves off and put them in a pocket. You tried moving sideways, but he was quick to crouch down and grab you by the ankle, the one on the injured side, right when you moved.

You inhaled and closed your eyes as a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Are you out of your mind? That hurt!”

He kept your ankle pinned to the ground. “Don’t move,” he ordered. He used his free hand to carefully move the ripped fabric of your clothes out of the way, and get a better look of your wound. You started to feel lightheaded as you saw him tear the fabric further.

You felt some sort of damp cloth on your skin,figuring it was being used to clean the blood off your injury. Tartaglia was being so careful that you could barely feel it, it seemed like he had done this a million times before. You closed your eyes, placing a hand over them, and tilted your head forward, suddenly feeling overcome with dizziness.

“You’re losing a lot of blood. If you hadn’t moved, it would not be this bad right n-” he interrupted himself and he called your name. “You still with me?”

“Mh- huh-uh” you started feeling uneasy. You opened your eyes slightly and caught a glimpse of the wound and immediately looked away. So much blood.

“Stay awake, don’t close your eyes again.” You heard a ruffling of fabric, the damp cloth wasn’t on your skin anymore. “Tell me about the Archons.”

“What?”

“Tell me all of the Archons’ names and their elements,” he repeated. You couldn’t figure out why he wanted you to tell him, but you followed his order, keeping your eyes away from your wound, and instead fixating on the grass beneath you. You were feeling too dizzy to protest, your only choice was to trust him, despite all of your instincts yelling at you to get away from him.

“Okay, there’s... Barbatos, god of Anemo.” You heard more fabric rustling coming from him, but you refused to look at what he was doing.

“Yes, then?”

The dizziness was still overwhelming, but you managed to keep talking, “Morax, god of Geo.” Clinking of glass, probably bottles. “Tsaritsa, goddess of Cryo.”

“Mh-mh.” He sounded… focused. What was he doing?

“Baal, goddess of- Fuck!” The skin around the wound started burning, and so did the wound itself. You bit your lip hard and groaned as the burning kept going on and on, your skin was itching and for a split second it was almost unbearable. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Antiseptic potion,” he replied plainly. “I had to find a way to distract you or you wouldn’t have let me use it.”

“Bastard.” Your skin kept burning, but you slowly got used to the pain as you watched the clear potion sizzling over your still open wound.

He barked a laugh, “I’m trying to help you over here, you’re very welcome.”

You looked at his hands as he skillfully kept cleaning your wound, now there was way less blood coming out and you were starting to feel slightly more at easy. He lifted his head and looked right into your eyes.

“It’s not too deep, but it would probably be better if I stitched it.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Of course I have, you think these healed themselves?” he asked, pointing at the seemingly long scar that started from the base of his neck and went down under his shirt. “At some point you have to learn how to stitch them up yourself.”

You exhaled deeply, still keeping your eyes on his. You realized that his irises resembled the starconches you had seen laid in the sand of Yaoguang Shoal’s beaches.

“Do you have an anaesthetic something to make the stitching hurt less, at least?”

He looked into the bag, moving things around, as if he had no idea what was actually inside the backpack. So it definitely wasn’t his.

He shook his head, pursing his lips slightly. “No, sorry.”

“It’s…” you pondered over it. You would probably have to go all the way to Bubu pharmacy to get an anaesthetic, and on the way there you might lose even more blood. “It’s okay.”

From his backpack, that you hadn’t realized was laid on the ground by your feet, he pulled out a small tin box, and from the box he took out an interestingly shaped needle, recurved like a crescent moon, then a pair of tweezers and a thread so thin you could barely see it.

Just by looking at the needle, you felt uneasy again. “Are you sure we can’t go to the Harbour and get help there?”

“We can do that, if that’s what you prefer, but I would have to carry you - I doubt you could walk at all right now.”

Somehow, the embarrassment of other people seeing you being carried, bridal style, by Tartaglia was stronger than any pain you might have to go through to get these stitches done.

“Fuck it, do it. But be quick.”

“I will try my best,” he said, and his tone sounded genuine to you. You still couldn’t believe you were trusting him like this, after everything he had done to you. “Try to think about something else, focus on anything but the stitches, it’ll hurt less.” He passed the thread through the needle’s hole with surprising skill.

“Okay, uh-” you watched him hover the needle over your skin, probably thinking about the fastest and least painful way to do the job. You moved your gaze from the open would to look at his face, and his expression seemed calm enough to put you somewhat at ease.

His lips were slightly parted and you noticed that he was biting his own tongue, the amount of focus he was putting into helping you was so intriguing to you, you could have never had imagined that he would be so… caring. At least not to you.

You suddenly felt the needle prick through your skin and you whimpered slightly. “Sorry,” he quickly said, before using the tweezers to make the needle pass through your skin and grab it again on the other end.

He repeated the process a few times, slowly pulling the thread every now and then to make the stitch tighter. You observed him the entire time, his eyes quickly darting from one spot to the other, his nose and mouth breathing at a steady pace. You saw him scrunch up his nose a few times, probably to release tension.

Each stitch hurt, you could feel the entire needle pass through your skin and come out again every single time, but you didn’t protest at all, and instead focused on counting the freckles on Tartaglia’s nose bridge, watching the muscles under his skin move every time he swallowed, and carding your fingers through the grass, accidentally ripping some every now and then.

“Done,” you heard him say in an unexpectedly cheerful tone. “I have some bandages, but I don’t think they’re enough for this large of a cut. Though, now that it’s stitched up, it’s probably safe for you to move, and I can help you get to the Harbor where you can buy some numbing potion and bandages.”

You looked down at the wound, and to your relief the stitches looked like they would hold together pretty well. “Sure, I think I can hop for a while, if you hold me.”

He picked up both his and your bag, putting them over his shoulder, then reached out a hand towards you and you realized just how bloody his hands were, as well as his clothes. You grabbed it with your own bloody hand and slowly stood up, placing your weight on the healthy leg. He placed your arm around his shoulders and put his own behind your back, holding you up.

“Ready to go?”

“Mh-mh.” You started walking in the direction of the Harbor, hopping on one leg while Tartaglia held you up.

“Whose backpack is that?” you tried asking.

“Honestly? No idea.”

“What were you doing here in Lisha, anyway?”

“Just some Fatui business, don’t worry about it,” he quickly dismissed your question.

“Always so secretive.”

#reblogs and comments very much appreciated !!#pats my own back #yeah this is good #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #tartaglia #genshin tartaglia #genshin childe #childe #so many fucking tags #blood tw #needles tw #injury tw

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silversatoru · 3 years

Note

Hello! I saw that you’re taking requests. I hope this is the right place to request, I’m new to tumblr haha.

Could I request, Megumi x F!reader, heavy angst breakup sex? The rest of the details are completely up to you if that’s okay!

I loved the gojo one btw!

yes yes here u go!! i hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for!

burdens

fushuguro megumi x nonsorcerer f!reader

synopsis: you and megumi have been dating for a few months now, and he decides it’s time to call it quits. he’d rather break your heart than have to watch you die, but not before he gets to feel you one last time

tags/warnings: smut, angst, break-up sex, nsfw (18+), takes place in the jjk universe but reader is not a sorcerer

word count: 2484

a/n: writing angsty megumi breaks my heart every single time. i jus want to give him a hug

Megumi watched anxiously across the room as a couple nurses finished applying bandages to your arm, your eyebrows knitted together in pain as they brushed over the large gashes. He noticed the small twitches in your other hand —probably caused by a mixture of pain and anxiety. You were stupidly strong, probably one of the tenacious people he’d ever met, but he could tell that this was getting to you. All of the curses you couldn’t see, the jujutsu techniques that you didn’t understand, it was all becoming overwhelming — dangerous even.

The two of you had been on a date a few hours ago, a sushi dinner and then a walk in the park — something simple — because even the simplest things felt wonderful when he was with you. And that’s exactly how things felt today, wonderful, or at least they did before the two of you ran into a hideous curse.

He should have noticed it, picked up on it’s cursed energy, anything — but he was so terribly distracted when he was around you. So when it caught both of you off guard and wrapped it’s grotesque fingers around your fragile body, he felt nothing but guilt. Nothing but shame and disappointment in himself that he had failed to protect you yet again. Exorcising it was easy of course, but the damage had already been done — your beautiful arm had been torn to shreds by the monster. Now the two of you were sitting in a pale, white hospital room telling lies about how you were attacked by a stray dog.

Thankfully, other than the lacerations down your arm you were okay, your blood loss wasn’t too severe and the two of you had gotten here before any kind of infection could crawl it’s way into your skin.

The car ride back to your small Tokyo apartment was dreadfully quiet. You’d made several attempts at conversation but Megumi continued to shut them down, a dark shadow of expressions cast over his face. You told him several times that this wasn’t his fault, that you understood the risks of dating him, but he just kept brushing you off. He’d told you several times to “shut up” or “be quiet”, and your heart ached at his bitter words — he’d never talked to you that way before tonight.

When the two of you walked into your apartment, he was quick to slam the door shut and wrap a firm arm around your waist. He moved with a sense of urgency, forcing you back against the wall and letting hot, heavy breaths fall against your neck.

“Megumi-,” You pressed a hand to his chest, attempting to put some distance between the two of you but failing miserably — he was much too strong.

You wished you could take a peek into his head, unravel his thoughts and figure out what the hell he was thinking. He was acting incredibly out of character since the two of you had left the hospital, and your chest was starting to throb with anxiety.

He pressed a wet, messy kiss to your lips, making your heart leap into your throat and your stomach churn. You graciously accepted the kiss, of course, his lips against yours was the most blissful feeling in the world. However, as his tongue moved roughly around your mouth and his teeth bit down fiercely on your bottom lip, uncertainty crawled up your skin. Megumi was always so gentle with you, only ever touching you in the most gingerly ways, treating your body like a piece of the most priceless glass. So, why now was he gripping your skin so tightly you thought it might bruise? Why were his kisses sure to leave your lips swollen and sore?

“Please, honey, let me have you,” He suddenly spoke, stirring you out of your thoughts.

Honey, it was his favorite name for you, in fact he rarely called you by your actual name. Normally, that name sent butterflies swirling through your stomach, but this time was different. He said the word as if it left a sour taste in his mouth, as if he regretted having to call you that.

“W-what?” You looked up at him with big eyes, big eyes that he refused to look into.

“Give me permission to touch you, please,” His voice was filled with so many emotions all at once — anger, despair, regret, need, hunger — there was probably more but he was impossibly hard to read right now.

“Why are you acting like this?” You tried to plead with him, reaching up and cupping a hand around his soft cheek.

“God, just say yes. Please just say yes and then stop talking,” His voice was almost a growl as this point, so uncharacteristically resentful.

“I mean- yes? Of course? You’re always allowed to touch me. But why-” You spoke in confused, frantic breaths.

“Thank you,” He immediately cut you off after gaining consent, wrapping a stiff hand around your wrist and practically dragging you back to your bedroom.

He pushed you towards your large, queen-sized bed and then slipped his hands underneath his shirt and yanked it over his head in one long, swift motion.

“Take your clothes off,” He demanded, undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants and letting them fall into a heap at his ankles.

You wordlessly obliged, attempting to convince yourself that he needed this. He needed this and after you gave it to him, things would go back to normal — he’d just had a rough day, that’s all.

It took him mere moments to aggressively pin you underneath him, though he was tediously avoiding your injured arm. He pressed a series of sloppy, wet kisses to your collarbone, slowly moving up to your neck and leaving painful imperfections all over your skin. You winced as he began to suck on a particularly sensitive spot, nibbling hard enough to make your skin sting and burn under his tongue. He continued to trail hungry, relentless kisses down the entirety of your body, covering every inch of your skin in aching love marks. You felt like you were on fire, the subtle pain and immense pleasure beginning to cloud your head — you were even starting to forget how tense things had been between the two of you just moments ago.

Megumi sat up and stared down at you as he fumbled with his boxers, sliding them off and throwing them to the floor. He needed this more than he’d ever needed anything in his entire life — he needed to feel you one last time and then he needed to break your heart.

He reached down and ran a single, slender finger along the folds of your entrance, a fire igniting in his eyes when he felt how slick you already were.

“God, you’re too perfect,” He murmured, giving a harsh squeeze to the skin around either side of your hips, “Get on your hands and knees”.

His praise sent goosebumps up your arms and light blush across your cheeks, making things feel almost-normal. You flipped yourself over onto your knees, stretching your arms out against the bed and arching your back as hard as you could.

With absolutely no warning, he thrusted forward with incredible force, sheathing himself deep inside you and causing a strangled scream to lurch from your lungs. His head dipped low as he let out a throaty groan, his long black hair hanging lazily over his face. Sharp breaths and pained whimpers rolled from your lips, your knuckles turning white from squeezing the bed sheets so hard.

Megumi always started slow, he always whispered sweet praises into your ears, always asked if you felt okay — nothing between the two of you had ever been this rough and unforgiving. This time he set a steady pace right from the start, his hips rolling ruthlessly as he slammed himself into you. Your breaths were terribly uneven and completely muffled by the pillow your face was forced into. You gasped for air as he stroked with unbelievable force, catching the pillowcase in your teeth and biting down hard on the fabric.

His pace slowed for a mere second, and you felt his fingers intertwine themselves in your soft locks of hair. You sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening into a fist and yanking your head backwards. Once his hand was secured around the roots of your hair, his strokes intensified again.

The initial pain of taking his forceful cock had subsided and replaced itself with immense pleasure, but your scalp was ablaze with a horrible, piercing pain as he tugged at your hair. The overwhelming combination of complete agony and intoxicating bliss caused a few tears to form at the edges of your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. Your hips and ass began to ache, and you knew you’d be terribly sore tomorrow morning. The pain was starting to become more prominent and it was getting increasingly difficult to hold your back at such an uncomfortable arch.

Megumi lifted his spare hand to his forehead, swiftly wiping the small beads of sweat that were forming above his eyebrows. He panted hard, moans and strings of curse words leaving his throat as he continued to rail you into oblivion. His throbbing member was starting to go numb from the devastating amount of stimulation, and he knew he’d need to finish soon.

“Squeeze your legs,” His words were less of an instruction and more of a demand.

You quickly complied, squeezing your legs closer together and feeling your walls constrict around his full length. The euphoric sensation was enough to send Megumi falling over the edge, his head flying backwards as he ripped his member free of your warm grasp. He wrapped his long fingers firmly around himself, jerking hard as he sprayed his emanation all over your beautifully arched back. Choked moans and aggressive cuss-words flew from his gritted teeth as his climax coursed through his body in waves.

As the wonderful feelings finally started to wash away, he stared down at you with a horrible emptiness in his eyes — now came the hard part.

He stood up and wordlessly walked into your bathroom, retrieving a towel to clean you up with. He wiped it lazily over your back and then tossed it into your hamper before beginning to collect his clothes that were strewn across the bedroom floor.

“What about me?” You were sitting up now, your favorite blanket pulled up to your chin and clinging to your last shreds of hope.

You felt the need to hide your exposed body now that the two of your were done, his coldness heightening every insecurity you had.

“I have to go. Do it yourself,” He shot you a sideways glance, pulling his loose sweats around his waist.

“What? Why do I feel like you’re not going to come back?” You could no longer fight the tears that had been lingering in your eyes for hours now.

Everything was starting to make sense — you were slowly piecing everything together. His silence at the hospital, his refusal to speak to you in the car, his sudden hunger towards you, and now his unusual coldness as he practically told you to go fuck yourself. He was going to break up with you, wasn’t he? But why?

“Because I’m not. I think we should end things here”.

“So, that’s it? You just wanted to use me like a fuck-toy one last time, is that what this was?” You tried hard to keep your voice steady, but a few cracks forced their way out.

“That’s really all you were good for anyway,” His words were like a knife to the heart, “You’re nothing but a burden outside of that”.

A burden? That’s all you ever were to him? You refused to believe that, but his words were doing an excellent job at convincing you. After all, he was constantly protecting you from those terrifying monsters he called curses — maybe that really was a burden on him. You didn’t have any kind of other-worldly powers like Megumi did, so you truly were helpless whenever one of those things was around. Hell, until they were literally threatening your life, you couldn’t even see them.

“You’re springing this on me out of nowhere, Megumi. You were completely normal just a few hours ago when we were eating at that sushi place! Is this because of that curse and my arm? Because if it is I’ll just work harder! You can teach me to use those cursed tools you told me about!” Tears were streaming down your face as you screamed helplessly at him.

“You’d still be too weak even if I did teach you to use a weapon or two. Things between us just aren’t going to work, okay? Don’t make me keep saying it,” He shook his head, slipping on his shoes and walking towards the bedroom door.

“I hate you, Fushiguro Megumi,” You spat out his full name, “You could at least be honest with me. You could tell me you’re afraid of losing me, that you don’t want me to get hurt — but this ‘you’re nothing but a burden’ garbage that you’re spewing is bullshit and you know it”.

“Maybe. But if I told you those other things instead, you wouldn’t listen, would you? You’d just keep telling me that the risk of being with me is worth it,” He turned around and looked at you with heavy, pained eyes.

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

He left after that, slamming the door behind him before you even had a chance to say anything. He couldn’t bear the idea of seeing you die — seeing a curse pop your head off or strangle your body into horrifying shapes. No matter how broken his heart felt leaving you behind, it was still better than being the reason you suffered a young, unfair death.

It turned out that you were never the burden — the real burden was being born into the cursed life of a jujutsu sorcerer. A life of risk and regret, pain and suffering, watching people die young and in the most grotesque ways. Somewhere, in another universe, Megumi liked to think that he was born into a normal, mundane life where he was able to love you endlessly and give you everything you ever deserved. And god — in his eyes you deserved the entire fucking world.

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Note

Can do a fic about dilf doyoung is your Father's friend but u have a secret relationship with him them one day he got you preggo so u moved in with him plsssss also put a lot of smut shshshhshsh pls I hope you read this.

Hi there! My requests are currently closed but I can never resist writing dilf!Doyoung so you’re lucky. There's not THAT much smut in this because I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. Hope you like it!

warnings: dirty talking, sex, language, use of the name daddy, spanking, unexpected pregnancy, age gap.

“What’s the meaning of this invitation, Mr. Kim?” You inquired, walking past the front door with a gym bag hanging from your shoulder. “It's not every day you invite me to a private swimming party.”

“Very funny.” He welcomed you with a hug, his warm, naked chest pressed against your covered one. “Jeno’s out with his friends. He won't come back until tomorrow.”

“Aw, but where's the fun in that? I wanted to be with him.” That response earned you a slap in the ass, hard enough to serve as a warning not to keep testing his patience.

“Get changed. I'll wait for you in the hot tub.”

You locked yourself in the nearest bathroom, quickly yanking off your clothes to replace them with a baby blue bikini. You knew how much he loved the matching set, not as much as taking it off you, of course.

Wanting to make him wait for a while longer, you neatly folded your clothes and placed them over your sleeping wear inside the bag you'd brought with you.

“Took you long enough.” He was sitting inside the water, his arms spread wide as he gave you a less than amused look. “Come here.”

Despite how dominant he might look on the outside, he never managed to fool you. As soon as you were between his arms, your face was guaranteed to be covered with kisses from his soft lips.

“I missed you this past few weeks.” His wet thumb traced figures over your arm, avoiding looking into your eyes. “Why haven't you visited?”

Your fingers played with the small, grey hairs covering the nape of his neck.

“It's getting harder to hide it from Jeno, and I know if he ever found out, our friendship would be over. I don't wanna lose him.”

“He’ll find out, better sooner than later.” The look on your face must've given away your thoughts. “What? Did you think this was just something casual?”

“I mean...” His jaw dropped, arms falling into the water with a splash. “Look, you have to understand me. We started right after your wife left, I thought you were using me to forget her. And I didn't mind-”

“Using you?” Just a few millimeters and his eyebrows would be touching. “Have you always thought so low of me?”

“Doyoung...”

“I want a future with you, y/n. Not just an occasional fuck but an actual relationship, and if you don't feel the same about me, then we might as well end things here.” This was the first time you'd seen him mad, with his whole face red from anger and the warmth of the jacuzzi, he looked as if he were about to explode.

“Of course I do. But it's complicated.” The red shade tinting his cheeks and ears, slowly faded. “No one would accept our relationship, for starters.”

“I couldn't care less about other’s opinions.”

In less than a second, his lips crashed against yours, hard. But there was a hint of sweetness in his wild movements, the way his hands caressed your back while his tongue worked its way inside your mouth aggressively.

“Already so eager?” He asked as your heat rubbed itself against his clothed cock. “Not here.”

“What...?”

The muscles in his legs tensed as he stood up with you still between his arms. He was strong, for a man of his age, of course.

“I’m afraid that I've been fucking you the wrong way, which might have been the reason for you to have the wrong idea about us.” Leaving a trail of water drops behind you, you climbed up the stairs leading to the second floor, where his room was located. “Scratch that. No more fucking, from now on, I'm gonna make love to you.”

“Have you always been this cheesy?” Your feet touched the floor as he removed his hands from below your thighs, slightly pushing you until the back of your knees touched the mattress.

“Don’t make me change my mind and spank that pretty ass.”

“Rude.” You let yourself fall on the fresh comforter, dragging him down with you.

“Take your clothes off for me, won't you?” He busied himself pulling down his swimming trunks while you struggled with the knot keeping your bra in place. “Such a silly, little girl. Can't do anything without her daddy, can her?”

“Please.” Even though you hated being humiliated, your core didn't seem to bother. His degrading words only caused your essence to form an even larger patch on your bikini. “Doyoung...”

“Fine.” His cock was standing proudly, his tip dripping with small beads of precum. “On your knees and turn around.”

He worked through the knots as fast as his trembling fingers allowed him to. His mouth was aching to say the special words he'd been keeping to himself for a while now, but he didn't have enough courage yet.

“Ready.” The straps fell down your arms, tickling the skin as they slid.

You took the last piece of your suit off, finally allowing your body to be consumed by the humidity of the summer evening. Doyoung was quicker to enter you than usual. No teasing, just lovemaking as he’d promised earlier.

“You’re so warm.” His lips were attached to your collarbone, sucking to leave a mark big enough for everyone to see. “Your little cunt takes me so well. No one else could make me feel as good as you do.”

With his hips pistoning your hole, your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, dancing over the tender skin. The way you were looking at each other, so intimate and full of affection, had the words he'd been wanting to say rushing out of his lips.

“I love you.” His movements faltered as if waiting for you to give him any type of answer.

“What’s with that scared face?” You giggled, every inch of your skin flushed with embarrassment and desire. “I love you too.” He loved how young you made him feel, like a silly teenager confessing to his crush only to find out his feelings were reciprocated.

His thrusts resumed, this time slower, deeper, making sure you felt every single ridge and vein of his cock. His length caressed your walls oh so deliciously, bringing you closer and closer to your high. Until someone had to ruin it.

“Dad, where are you?” In a rush, Doyoung pulled out, not even noticing how his seed spilled out of your hole. Fear had taken over the pleasure.

“Get in the bathroom, he probably just forgot something. Don't worry.”

As he'd said, Jeno was quick to leave. Not even ten minutes later, Doyoung was back in his room, announcing Jeno’s little getaway got extended.

“So that means, you can stay for a while longer. Only if you want of course.” The bathtub was filling with warm water and bubbles he'd added. “Or we can go on our own trip, whatever you want.” You felt at ease between his arms, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Who would've thought you'd be losing your mind a few weeks later because of the same man that had given you so much peace before.

“How could you forget to wear protection?!”

“Don't treat me as if I were the only one responsible for this situation.” You hid your face between the warmth of your palms, supporting the side of your head against the window. “Look at me, baby.”

You shook your head, tears starting to slip between your fingers.

“I’m here for you, darling. Whatever you want to do, I'll fully support you.” His thumb traced the shape of the shell of your ear.

“I don't know what I want to do.”

“We still have time to help you figure things out, okay?” There was a certain sadness to his tone, almost as if his hopes were vanishing.

He didn't want to get rid of it, but being pregnant was a burden that you'd have to carry alone as much as he tried to help. It was your choice and only yours.

“I want to have it, but I don't even have a job or economical support. My parents would kill me if they found out. And Jeno, oh boy, he'd have a heart attack.”

“You have me, y/n. And even though I can't do anything about other people's reactions, I'll always be by your side.”

Doyoung wasn't lying. He walked you through every step, even assumed part of the responsibility when talking to your parents, who didn't react as badly as you'd foreseen.

“Just make sure you're making the right choice.” They'd said.

Jeno was the last person to find out.

“Oh, hey y/n. Were you waiting for me?” He dropped the sports bag right in front of de door.

“We have to tell you something.”

“We?” The look on his face was almost comical as if life had been sucked out of his handsome features.

“Yes, we.” Doyoung laced his fingers with yours, tightly locking your hands together.

His father explained the situation calmly, making sure to use the right words to avoid scaring him away. By the time he was done, Jeno was just staring at you with an emotionless face.

“Jeno?” Your heart dropped at the thought of losing your friend. “Say something, please.”

“You want me to say something?”

There was a small, dramatic pause to add some tension to his words. But the mood lightened as soon as his eyes became crescent moons.

“Bold of you to assume I wasn't aware of your little relationship.” He giggled. “It's okay, guys. You're both adults and I trust you know what you're doing.”

“What the hell is going on?” Your thoughts slipped out of your mouth.

“Thank you, Jeno.” Doyoung mouthed, squeezing your shoulder.

“Man, I always wanted a little brother.” He walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you and his father's neck.

“I rather have a girl this time.”

“Should I call you mom?” Jeno teasingly asked, poking the back of your head.

“Try me.”

(...)

As you folded your clothes and placed them in your new closet, the sun started setting. The light sound of sizzling could be heard from the room, probably Doyoung cooking dinner.

“Y/n!” He shouted from downstairs. “Come help me set the table.”

“Coming!” You set aside the remaining boxes. There were not many clothes left to unpack, so you could finish after eating.

You tiptoed on your way downstairs, accomplishing to scare him with a surprise back hug.

“Stop, you could've burnt yourself.” He scolded, undoing your hug only to quickly pull you by his side moments later.

“Is it me or are you getting a little too overprotective?”

“Am not!” His eyebrows quivered like they did every time he lied.

“Really? Then why haven't we had sex ever since you found out I was pregnant?” Your hand teasingly traced figures on his lower abdomen, a little too close to the stove he was using.

“You’re gonna get burnt.” Once again, he tried to push you away, but your hand remained in the same position. “Baby...”

“Uh-uh, you're not gonna sweet-talk your way out. Why won't you touch me anymore? Have I lost my charm or something?”

“What? No!” He turned off the stove, completely turning to his side to face you. “I just don't wanna hurt the baby.”

“Bullshit. You know it's still safe to do it, you already had one son, for god's sake.” Your arms were crossed over your slightly swollen mounds. “I want the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth...” There was no nervous quiver from his eyebrows, but his tone was less than convincing.

“The whole truth, Doyoung.”

There was no way out, he had to tell you what he'd been trying to hurry at the back of his head for weeks now.

“I can't stop thinking that the only reason we became official is because of this baby, and I'm afraid if you lose it, I'll lose you as well.” It seemed as if your roles had reversed, as if he was the youngest, the most immature.

“Idiot.” You flicked his forehead with anger, later pulling him into a bear hug. “Get those stupid ideas out of your little head or I'll have to slap them out of you.”

“Rude much.”

“I told you once before we found out about the baby...” Your lips were achingly close to his, ready to kiss those soft, pink pillows. “I love you.”

Your eyes were stuck on his lips, too busy to notice how his eyes started sparkling, the edge of them trying to contain his tears. After a while, you looked up, his nostalgic expression puzzling you.

“I’m sorry, it's the hormones.” He sniffled.

“That's not how pregnancy works, honey.”

#nct smut #nct angst #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct doyoung

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esamastation · 3 years

Note

Cody kind of finds out that Obi-wan is touch-starved and gets creative to find reasons to lean against/hug the man. Once that gets familiar, they just start to slide into a relationship

Cody doesn't really think anything about the first time it happens.

It's been a long day and they're all tired, even the General who can usually keep going on trice as long as anyone else is sagging where he's sitting. Cody had gone to him to pass the freshly tallied inventory, how much ammunition and equipment they had left, how many weapons, how much food.

They'd been in a canyon then, the space was limited – the AT-TE took most of it. So they'd been crowded around the edges of the canyon, taking cover under and behind any rocky formation they could. To keep their discussion somewhat private among the troopers, Cody had been standing closer to the General than usual, right next to him, all but leaning over him as the General sat on a rock and perused the datapad. And as they talked the General had begun to… very slowly, very subtly…

…lean against Cody's thigh.

Cody chalked it up as the General being exhausted, which was proven correct by the fact that the man later went to sleep without his customary meditation. He didn't think much of it after that – even if the weight against his plastoid armour had been a strangely pleasant one at the time and Cody had very vehemently not minded it.

But then, some days later, it happens again. Not precisely that exact thing, but something similar. It's after a skirmish in the canyons – they've won a little more ground and set up a secure perimeter, and they're having a meal. There are no tables, no chairs, so the men are scattered around sitting on rocks, and so is General Kenobi too – and so is Cody. They're sharing the same rock, even – which is a weird sort of humble honour, all things considered. His rank as Marshal Commander earns him the right to share a rock with their General. Now that's privilege.

Cody had been wondering if he should share the thought, not entirely sure why he finds it amusing, when behind him General Kenobi shifts a little, trying to find a better purchase on their privileged rock. There's a clack of armour against armour, as their backs touch, and it brings Cody out of his thoughts.

"Well," General Kenobi says. "Here's to the nobility of war."

"Sir?" Cody asks, tilting his head to look at him over his shoulder.

The General hums with wry amusement. "I was just thinking of all those advertisements we did, about what honour it is to serve the republic, about the great duty we were embarking upon, how glorious. Here we are, all sharing rocks," he chuckles and glances at Cody in turn. "Truly, we have attained greatness here."

Cody snorts, not sure if he gets the joke or not. "I was just thinking something like that, sir," he admits. "About how rank allows us a shared rock. What a privilege it is."

Kenobi snorts into his rations. "It has indeed been a privilege to share a rock with you, Commander."

Stars, they're probably both sleep deprived, Cody thinks with rueful amusement, and then he notices it – the weight pressing against his back plate. Kenobi is leaning against him, just a little.

Once it's a chance, twice…

Hm.

Cody tests it, a day or so later. They're trenched in the canyons now, setting up a line – and it looks terribly like they'll be stuck there until air support could get to them. While the troopers set up defences, Cody talks tactics with the General and stands a little closer than necessary to him, offering without words his side to the man. And again, eventually, Kenobi ends up just barely leaning towards him.

It's a weird sort of thrill, to have noticed it and now that he has, Cody can't help but test it. he thinks of all the times he'd had to physically catch the Generals attention, to draw him away from whatever he was feeling with the Force, thinking of how he reacted every time…

Cody spots the General, sitting near a set of ladders set to the canyon walls, and walks over to him – careful to make his approach quiet and unnoticeable, though not obviously so. Used to men moving all around him, General Kenobi doesn't look up, keeping his eyes on the datapad. Cody could call for his attention verbally but…

He puts his hand on the General's shoulder instead, applying enough weight for it to be felt through the armour – and then he watches as an immediate reaction runs through the man. He sits up straighter, his shoulder pushing against Cody's hand, and tenses completely, and then relaxes immediately after. "Cody," he says, turning.

"Looks like there will be a sand storm, sir," Cody says, his mouth suddenly, confusingly dry. "You should get to a tent."

"Ah," the General says, blinking. "Yes, of course – thank you, commander."

There is no stopping it afterwards – Cody has caught a glimpse of something in the General now, and he wants to see it more. So, he… pushes on.

In the following days he gets the General to lean against his side on four different occasions. He sees the stop, tense, relax reaction twice, once when he touches the man's shoulder again, once when he puts a hand on the man's back. The greatest reaction he gets is when his hand slips from the plastoid gauntlet to grip on the General's elbow instead, gloved fingers slipping where the armour doesn't cover. He can feel the bones of the General's elbow through his gloves and through the man's clothing, and then he notices the reaction.

The General swallows, blinking, staring at nothing for a moment – it takes him a moment to catch himself, but the break in his usual character is so obvious that Cody's heart begins to pound. For a moment, the General was held, utterly stalled, by Cody's fingers on his elbow.

Then the moment is over and they're planning on where to put the guns.

There's no stopping it afterwards – Cody couldn't have stopped if he wanted to, and he doesn't particularly want to. It's – he's flirting with the regs, he knows that, this sort of thing could get him reprimanded or demoted or worse – but Kenobi never makes any motion or allusion to any of the sort. Cody isn't sure the man has even noticed. So, Cody pushes on.

He takes every opportunity, every bit of privacy, to touch. He's careful about it, he's neither stupid nor willing to put his own or the General's reputation on the line. But behind cover, in the man's tent, at meal times… he will find some excuse to touch. Hand on shoulder, tap on arm, shoulder pressed against shoulder as they sit side by side to share a meal – he gets creative when he has to. Once, he gets his boot to rest against Kenobi's for nearly half an hour, and he's absolutely certain Kenobi feels it.

Something changes somewhere along the way. Kenobi's reaction never stops being gratifying in a weirdly heartbreaking way, but eventually he stops being surprised by it. At first Cody is worried the man noticed, that he's – aware of what Cody is doing. But there's no words, no reprimand, Kenobi doesn't so much as give him a knowing look. But somewhere along the way, he stops being surprised.

He gets used to it. Cody thinks he might even on some subconscious level start expecting it. Every time Cody gets close enough to touch, Kenobi expects him to. And so Cody does, with increasing thrill and something like hope, that maybe, maybe something impossible might be possible and then…

Then their campaign in the canyons end. The planet is theirs, the Separatists surrender it to their rule, and the 212th is recalled to space. And along with the crowded canyons and sand storms and convenient moments in privacy… go with all the excuses to get too close.

Cody tries not to be disappointed, tries not to regret it. The whole campaign had been a dredge from start to finish and he's by far not the only one looking forward to regular chances to use freshers and cleaners. But he's disappointed anyway.

He swallows it and goes back to work, filling in requisition forms by the dozen to replenish the gear they lost, the ammunition they spent – the men they lost.

"Ah, there you are," Kenobi says, seeing him in one of the offices. "No, don't get up," he waves as Cody moves to stand to greet him. "Stars know we've all earned the right to use chairs for once. Are you done with requisitions?"

"Almost, sir," Cody agrees, resting his elbow on the backrest of the chair to look at him. "Do you have any additions?"

"Some, yes," Kenobi says and comes to his side, to his personal space, pressing against his back. "Can I see?"

"Of course, sir," Cody says, even as his body feels like it's suddenly been dunked into a hot pool of water, and lifts the datapad for the General to look. Kenobi leans over his shoulder a little, reaching one hand to flick through the forms.

His other hand finds itself on Cody's shoulder, resting on his pauldron, pressing down.

For a moment Cody just sits there, frozen, holding the data pad and barely breathing.

And then he forces himself to relax and very carefully, very subtly, and lets himself lean back against the man. It feels like connecting a broken wire, restarting a stalled engine, and Cody thinks that's it and is more than satisfied by that. Maybe, even outside the trenches, they can have… something he doesn't dare to name, and but leans towards anyway. It would need to be careful, a thing of stolen moments with no shared words, but maybe it could happen, maybe he wouldn't get into trouble for wanting it, maybe…

"What do you say to more air support?" Kenobi says. "As much as I enjoyed the canyons, I would rather not get our men trenched so easily again."

"I wouldn't say no," Cody says. "But I think it might be a little too much to hope, sir. Ours is an Attack Battalion, after all. We're made for ground assaults."

The General sighs and leans back a little, thinking. "That is true, I suppose. One can hope, though, no?"

Then Kenobi's bare fingers wander over his pauldron to his neck, and to bare skin, to simply rest there, his thumb brushing against the closely cropped hairline, and Cody thinks he might be in trouble after all.

#fanfiction #star wars #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi

790 notes · View notes

cloudy-minded-idiot · 3 years

Text

closing time

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader (kinda?)

warning: mentions of blood, a probably very inaccurate description of a wound being treated (lemme know if I should add anything else)

word count: around 3,000

a/n: wrote this before bed last night and edited it this morning. feedback would be appreciated, just pls don’t be too hard on me, since it’s the first fic i’m posting on here. i have a vague idea for a second part if anyone’s interested.

summary: a wounded stranger stumbles into your life one night, and you find yourself helping her out despite your better instincts.

next part

It was a slow night for a change. The last customer had left half an hour ago. An elderly man who had only bought two packs of cigarettes and some strawberry mint gum to go along with it. He was a regular, came in at least once a week, always bought the same thing. The kind of customer you enjoyed after a long day: quiet and quick to leave.

You were all set to lock up for the day. All you could do now was wait for your shift to actually be over. A difficult thing for someone who was inherently impatient and had nothing to distract herself with. Your phone had died halfway through the day, and you had finished your book sometime around lunch. Any other night, you would at least have your co-worker or your boss to chat with, but Mr. Douglas had left early today. Something about his in-laws coming to visit. You hadn't question it.

A glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, just listening to the ticking sound. For a while, you counted along. It was calming. Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Not that that took a lot, you were pretty tired after all. You had long lost track of the seconds gone by when, in between the rhythmical tik-tok, a shrill bell chimed. The one above the entrance you knew all too well.

You had to suppress an annoyed sigh. Last-minute customers.

Whatever complaint you had on your mind was quickly replaced by utter shock when you opened your eyes. In, through the drugstore-door, staggered a woman with fiery red hair, covered head to toe in dirt. Bruises lined her face, and she kept one hand pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to stop blood from seeping out of a wound. Little droplets fell to the floor despite her efforts, marking her path to the counter.

"Holy shit!" you breathed out, eyes probably wide as saucers. You continued dumbly, "I think you need to see a doctor."

An understatement, to be sure. If her sickly pale complexion was anything to go by, she was sure to keel over sooner rather than later.

The redhead shook her head determinedly, a pain-stricken look on her face.

"No doctor. No hospital. Just need some medical supplies," her remark was accompanied by her slamming crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

"O-kay," you said slowly, leaving the counter and taking her by the elbow, "I'll get you your supplies, but you seriously need to sit down."

You opened the door to the break room, guiding her to a chair that she more or less collapsed onto. She winced in pain, and you stayed a moment to make sure she was all set before hurrying back out. In a frenzy, you jogged along the shelves, mentally trying to create a list of supplies she could need. Rubbing alcohol, a first aid kit, scissors, tweezers. You also grabbed some painkillers and a bottle of water on your way back.

Dumping all the supplies on the round wooden lunch table, you watched her nervously as she started to cut off parts of her shirt to get better access to the wound. Almost instinctively, you grabbed the trash can holding it out for her to dump the blood-soaked fabric into.

"Water," she croaked out in between painful gasps, "Need to…rinse the wound."

Mutely, you nodded. Rummaging through the cabinet of the small old-fashioned kitchen counter until you found a big bowl and filled it up. Dipping a towel into the lukewarm water, you knelt in front of the woman.

"Let me do it. You need to save your strength."

She looked like she wanted to object, but, in the end, she gave you a curt nod. There was a lot of blood. You did your best not to irritate the wound too much. By the time you were finished, the water itself was a deep crimson. She had closed her eyes, sweat covering her brow. She grabbed you by the sleeve of your shirt when you tried to stand up, holding you in place.

"Now with alcohol," she told you. Your eyes flickered to the bottle on the table.

You hesitate. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it," the redhead commanded, eyes still closed. She let go of your arm then, returning hers to the armrest of the chair. Her fingers left behind bloody prints.

You obeyed her order, wincing along with her in sympathy as you pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to her wound. You could only imagine how much it must sting. Her grip on the armrests tightened until her knuckles turned white. When you were done, she inspected the wound, eyes narrowed to see in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps. A long silence stretched between you two. She looked up, meeting your gaze for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of greens with little specks of grey thrown in. Under different circumstances, you might have admired them a little longer. They were quite beautiful.

"Can you sew?"

You nod slowly, sensing where she was going with this and not liking it one bit.

It took a while to find sewing supplies. Taking deep breaths, you willed your hands to stop shaking and followed her murmured instructions. Put on latex gloves, sterilize the needle and thread. She sounded very calm as she explained how to make the first stitch, didn't even flinch when the needle pricked her skin. It helped calm you down a little.

By the time you cut off the excess thread, you found yourself unable to recall doing any of the other stitches. The rush of the moment made the procedure seem to pass faster than it probably did in reality. She eyed your handiwork for a moment before giving a small nod of approval, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at her lips.

“Not bad for a rookie.”

“Thanks,” you breathed out, already preoccupied with sifting through the first aid kit.

Wrapping the wound was much more your forte. The redhead leaned back in the chair once you finished, washing some painkillers down with a big gulp from the water bottle. With the adrenaline wearing down, you felt as exhausted as she looked. Leaning back against the table leg, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body relaxing as your apprehension lessened little by little.

You took a couple of moments to mentally catch up to what just happened, processing the sheer craziness of it all. Your brain was brimming with questions. Who was she? Who hurt her? Why didn’t she get professional help? They were on the tip of your tongue. But the woman passed out before you had the chance to ask her anything.

With tremulous hands, you cleaned the store for the second time that evening, wiping up blood from the floor, the chair, and the table. You discarded the rags with the rest of the used supplies. All the while, you checked on her multiple times, unable to shake the fear she might die right then and there. She looked unnaturally pale, but her pulse continued to drum rhythmically, her chest kept rising and falling with every breath she took.

What now? Should you call the cops? The hospital? She seemed pretty set on not getting any authorities involved. Perhaps with good reason?

You resolved to find out tomorrow, hoping you would not grow to regret it. Slinging one of her arms over your shoulder, you lifted her up and carried her bridal style, mindful of her injury. She wasn't too heavy, but you still were glad you had had the foresight to park your car nearby. After making sure she was safely strapped into the passenger seat, you went back and finally closed up the shop.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you were woken up by some clattering sounds coming from your living room. With a groan, you forced yourself out of your bed and stumbled through the door into the next room. The redhead was walking around in the dim light, rummaging through your drawers and dropping things left and right. You watched, for a moment, too perplexed to say anything as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” you ask, voice rough from sleep. It was still way too early to be awake. You had thought the pain killers would help her sleep for a couple of hours more. Looks like you were wrong.

“Later,” she muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer of the tv cabinet and pulled out some DVDs you had stored there, only pausing to look at the title of one of them with a smirk.

“Is this not a kids' movie?”

You had no idea what she was looking at, but you crossed your arms, feeling a bit offended anyway. Blame your lack of sleep for making you a little sensitive.

“Do you make it a habit to judge the movie taste of people who were gracious enough to let you stay in their home overnight?”

The woman didn’t answer verbally, just put the movie back and closed the drawer again. She turned to face you, her expression turning serious all of a sudden as if only now remembering where she was and how she got here in the first place. She looked apprehensive, taking a couple of steps in your direction.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” her voice conveyed a sense of urgency, eyes staring into yours imploringly. Confused, you just shook your head.

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Good,” she nodded, her attention already returning to her little scavenger hunt.

The redhead walked across the room, sifting through your kitchen cabinet next.

You sighed, picking up a couple of things she had knocked over in the living room and putting them back in their proper place. Every few seconds, you would glance at her from afar. She was still wearing the outfit she had on when she came into the drugstore. With her unconscious, you hadn’t seen any way of getting her into some new clothes, at least not without possibly irritating her wound or waking her up. She could surely use something clean to wear. Her current attire was dirtied and bloody, not to mention that her shirt now looked like a makeshift crop top since she had cut off parts of it last night.

“You know, if you just told me what you’re looking for you wouldn’t have to make such a mess of my apartment,” you winced as one of your spice shakers fell out of the cupboard and landed on the stove just as you finished speaking. Luckily, nothing broke.

The woman paused mid-motion, still on her tiptoes, body halfway turned towards you.

“A radio. An old one preferably.”

Frowning, you picked up and folded the blanket she had discarded on the floor in front of your couch.

“What for?”

The redhead eyed you for a moment, hesitant and unsure whether you could be trusted. In the end, she kept quiet, ruling against explaining herself. You reluctantly accepted her decision, tossing the folded blanket back on the couch cushion in resignation.

“I should have an old radio alarm clock somewhere in my wardrobe. Will that do?”

It took you a couple of minutes to find the old thing, hidden away in the very back of your closet, underneath some clothes you hadn’t worn in forever. When you returned to the living room, your visitor was leaning against the kitchen isle, nibbling on one of your pop tarts which she abandoned as soon as she saw you. Eagerly she took the alarm clock off your hands, acknowledging you with a grateful nod. The redhead sat down on the couch, plugging the device into the closest outlet.

You more or less kept an eye on her while you made yourself some coffee, but you had no idea what she was doing. To you, it looked like she was just fiddling with the controls, only static and a couple of high-pitched sounds filling the living room. It was grating on your nerves, but you made no comment. By the time she finished and turned the radio off again, you were already on your second cup.

“Are you expecting any visitors in the next couple of days?” she asked casually, sidling up next to you in the kitchen.

You raised an eyebrow, placing your empty cup in the sink.

“No. Why?”

“I need a place to lay low until Tuesday.”

“Lay low?” you parroted, “What for? Who are you hiding from?”

Subconsciously, she glanced down at her bandaged wound, and you followed her gaze, slow realization coming over you.

“Did they do that to you? Did they hurt you?” you asked more softly. She only shook her head in confirmation, “Then why not just go to the police? I’m sure they can help you better than I c-"

“No,” she cut you off immediately, gripping your wrists tightly in both her hands as if to physically keep you from taking your phone and calling the cops. This only made you grow more concerned.

“No. We can’t go to the police. It’s not safe,” she loosened her grip on you a little.

Your eyebrows were drawn together as you thought about what she said.

“Why would it not be safe? Unless...,” you swallowed as a possibility crossed your mind, “Are you in trouble? Did you do something illegal?”

When she didn’t immediatley deny your statement, you started to jump to conclusions, your voice rising with panic.

“Oh, shit! You did. What was it? Were you in a fight? Did you kill someone? Holy shi- Does helping you make me an accomplice? Am I harboring a criminal in my ho-”

She cut off your rant by slapping a hand over your mouth, thus muffling your words.

“Be quiet, your neighbors might hear,” she hissed, gaze darting to the door, almost like she expected someone to burst through it.

Your eyes were wide in fear, but you listened to her, your heart racing. She slowly removed her hand, giving you a warning look as though she feared you would start talking again. You didn’t.

“I’m not a criminal,” she told you earnestly, “I am, however, on the run, so I would appreciate your discretion.”

“On the run from whom?”

The question was no more than a whisper, too scared to raise the volume of your voice. She held your gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Classified,” you repeated, incredulous, “So let me get this straight. You show up at my job, bleeding all over the place and telling me not to call the authorities. I help you out, let you crash at my place and you, in return, wake me up at an ungodly hour, make a big mess of my living room, imply that you might have done something illegal, and expect me to let you stay here until Tuesday without getting any information whatsoever?”

“I know this isn’t fair...,” she admitted, and you laugh humorlessly.

“Not fair? I would be crazy to agree without at least having an idea what I’m getting myself into.”

The redhead nodded in agreement, looking away guiltily, teeth biting down on her lips. She seemed genuinely beat down, something even you, as a stranger, could tell was foreign to her. Oddly enough, you felt bad, although you knew, realistically, that you had done nothing wrong.

You let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Curse your empathetic heart.

“Three conditions,” you conceded, making her look at you in surprise. Holding up a finger, you started your list.

“One. No more throwing my stuff around. If you need something, ask. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”

She nods, having the decency to actually look sorry this time. You put up a second finger.

“Two. You tell me your name. Doesn’t have to be your full name or even your real name if that’s a secret or whatever," you added with an indifferent shrug, "I just want something other to call you than ‘hey you’.”

“What’s the third condition?” she prompted, not commenting on the second one.

“You promise me that you’re not the bad guy in this situation and that helping you won’t land me in trouble somehow.”

The redhead cocked her head to the side, an almost fascinated expression on her face.

“How would you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t,” you countered without hesitation, “I’m just gonna have to trust your word here. Just as you will have to trust mine that I’ll keep your presence here a secret.”

For a moment, she regarded you with some indescribable emotion on her face before nodding in concession. Letting go of the one wrist she was still holding, she took a step back. Caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even realized how close you were standing. Thinking about it now made your face heat up for some reason. The redhead raised one hand as though she was about to take an official oath. She held your gaze unwaveringly as she spoke.

“I promise you, that I will not make a mess in your home anymore. And I solemnly swear that you won’t get in trouble for helping me in any way whatsoever.”

Something about her demeanor told you she wasn’t lying. You shake your head satisfied, a small but relieved smile taking over, some of the tension and apprehension leaving your body. She smiled tentatively in return, extending her hand to you in greeting.

“The name’s Natasha.”

Glancing at her proffered hand, you took it and gave it a small shake.

“Nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

456 notes · View notes

anxiousgaypanicking · 3 years

Note

Logan but getting pumped full of everyone's eggs

Breeding

DRLAMP (Janus x Remus x Logan x Virgil x Patton x Roman) Warnings: oviposition, overstimulation, inflation, aphrodisiac, tentacles, monster fucking, double penetration, marking, biting, plugs, restraints, sex, crying, bleeding, breeding, degradation, venom, hair-pulling, finger sucking, cock and ball torture, choking Word Count: 9600

A heavy weight plopping itself onto Logan's midsection is what wakes him up. He's confused at first, before the blurry sight of someone atop him comes into view, illuminated only by the small amount of light leaking into his room from the hallway.

Logan groans as he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his glasses, sliding them onto his face. He also sneaks a glance at the clock while he's looking that way, and sees that it's two in the morning.

He looks back to the figure on top of him, who's now rolling their hips against Logan, and sees that it's none other than Remus.

Specifically, a naked Remus, who's tentacles are out and writhing, and Logan can see that they're even leaking, drops of whatever substance that is getting over Logan's shirt and his sheets.

"What do you want, Remus?" Logan asks, voice groggy. At the sound of his voice, Remus's crimson eyes snap open, and his tentacles all seem to freeze mid-air. He lets out a mix between a laugh and a pant after a moment though.

"My- my tentacles," he stammers out, still grinding against Remus's body. The tentacles sprouting from Remus's back, and the one between his legs, go back to squirming. Although now they move towards Logan, feeling over his calves and lower thighs, while Remus's tentacle cock uncoordinatedly rubs at Logan's boxers.

"Your tentacles?" Logan inquires, needing more than just that as an answer.

"They need to breed," Remus explains, in between short breaths. "I need to breed. I need to pump my eggs into you, my nerdy fucktoy. Fill you up and breed you so good. My tentacles are all practically bursting with eggs and I need to empty them inside of your tight hole."

Logan's face was pink, but he just sighs as he asks "at two-am? You couldn't wait?"

Remus rapidly shakes his head, before he leans down so that he and Logan's lips were almost touching. "Please? Pretty please, Logan? Let me fuck and breed you, baby, come on!"

"Hush, Remus," comes another voice from the doorway, and Remus snaps his head towards the voice, slightly unhappy someone was disturbing his precious time with Logan.

The silhouette of the figure steps into the room, and as he moves closer, it's revealed that it's Janus (sans hat and cape).

He strolls up next to Logan, and clicks on the lamp on his nightstand. Janus barely glances towards Remus, before looking back at Logan. As Logan stares back, and scans over his body, he can tell that Janus is very hard in his pajama pants.

"Not you too," Logan says, receiving a soft laugh in return.

"I'm afraid I don't have much of a choice in the matter," Janus states, eyes shining with amusement. "I need to empty my eggs and, well, you're the only one around who doesn't experience this."

"Piss off, J-anus," Remus growls. "I got here first!" Remus pulls Logan up by his shoulders, his arms and tentacles wrapping around him and holding him against Remus's chest. The substance they're covered in is seeping through the material of his shirt, and the skin on his back gets weirdly hot and sensitive.

The tentacle between Remus's legs is doing the same thing to his crotch. It's been rubbing at his boxers, and now the liquid is seeping through, making Logan's cock uncomfortably hard and leaking.

Janus tuts, as he crawls on the bed and moves behind Logan, wrapping his arms around Logan's midsection, and burying his face in Logan's neck. His teeth are trailing over the skin there, but he's staring at Remus.

"He belongs to all of us," Janus reminds him, with a hum. "You have to learn to share."

Remus narrows his eyes, only for Janus to nibble on Logan's earlobe, whispering "can I bite you, darling? Inject you with venom? You know it'll feel so good."

Logan's breath hitches at the mere thought, and he's quick to nod and blurt out "yes, please."

With a grin, Janus doesn't hesitate to bite down, Logan gasping as his skin is broken by Janus's fangs, only to feel Janus's venom being injected into his body. He can hardly get out Janus's name before he begins feeling it's affects; his body grows increasingly hot, and his face flushes. His cock strains in his boxers, and as Janus's hands start to roam over Logan's body (or, more specifically, the places that weren't covered by the tentacles), Logan found himself arching into the overwhelming touch.

Each gentle stroke or light scratch drew rather pathetic whines from him, and when he opened his eyes - which he doesn't remember closing - Remus is staring at him like Logan's his helpless prey.

Janus is whispering in his ear. Thing's along the line of "we're gonna fill you so full of our eggs" and "you'd like being fucked and bred, wouldn't you? Our good little slut," are slipping out of Janus's mouth, and Logan is whimpering and agreeing with each one.

Before they can do anything, though, there's a knock at Logan's open door, and when the three of them look over there, there's Patton. He has green splotches over his face and arms, and just like the other two, he's visibly hard through his comfy pants.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Patton says, with a flush to his cheeks. "But it appears that I'm in the same predicament as the both of you."

"How fortunate," Janus mutters, bitterly, and Logan would snicker if the thought of Patton on him too didn't make him let out a needy moan. Patton seems to process this, and smiles as he moves closer, wiggling between Remus and Logan, much to Remus's dismay. He plops himself in Logan's lap, and Logan eagerly leans up to kiss him, his head growing more hazy and horny by the second, thanks to Janus's venom and the chemical from Remus's tentacles seeping into his skin.

Janus hisses and Remus growls at the fact Patton got first kiss, and so the moment they pull away Janus grips Logan's hair and roughly tugs his hair back, and pulls him into a kiss of his own.

They're all fighting amongst each other for Logan's body and attention, and another knock on the door irritates them all.

"Uh... I can see that this is a bad time," someone, who they then see is Virgil, says. His nails are noticeably sharper, even from this far away, as are his teeth - his canines long enough to protrude his lips. Beneath his bangs are his normal eyes, and below those are a couple smaller eyes, all blinking in tandem with Virgil.

He's staring at Logan, hard as well, but despite the desperation clear in his voice, he seems willing to leave the other three with their boyfriend and find a way to take care of himself alone, up until Logan moans out "Virgil!"

Virgil's head snaps towards Logan, momentarily caught off guard by how pathetic Logan sounded. He stalks closer, and he and Janus hiss at each other as he wiggles next to him, grabbing Logan and holding him protectively. Logan immediately leans back into Virgil's arms, his head laying back on Virgil's shoulder and exposing his pretty, pale neck, bare aside from two puncture marks where Virgil can obviously tell Janus pumped him full of venom.

"The others all want the same thing I do, huh," he says, quietly, nibbling lightly on Logan's earlobe and causing him to draw in a sharp breath. "To pump you full of my eggs and breed you properly."

Logan moans at his words, attempting to roll his hips up against anything, desperate for friction.

"Why did no one tell me we were all meeting up with Logan?!" a dramatic voice shouts from the door, and no one needs to look to tell that it's Roman. Both because only he is that loud and dramatic, and because he's the only one not yet in the room.

Logan does look though, and if he was in the right mind, he'd be more intrigued by the fact Roman has his tentacles out. In a contrast to Remus's bright green, uncontrollable tentacles, Romans were red and were more steady with their movements, although they still seemed to drift towards Logan.

Like the others, he's visibly horny, and probably in need of getting his eggs out if he's so willing to show his extra, writhing limbs.

Roman has openly expressed his dislike for them, especially because it's another thing he has in common with Remus, but at the moment Logan stared at them in open arousal, desperately wanting them inside of him. Actually, he wanted anything inside of him. He'd take what he could get.

"Ugh, they always leave me out of the loop, mi amor," Roman coos, as he moves closer, and he and Remus growl at each other as he forces himself to sit next to his brother.

Remus's tentacles, having been able to sense Logan's desperation, had already started to slip under the logical side's clothes best he could. Patton in his lap prevented them from getting beneath the boxers, so with a glance between each other, Roman scooped Patton up and gently tossed him to the side, giving them free access to do what they wanted with Logan.

Now it'd just be a fight over who gets him first.

"Logan- Lo, baby," Remus grunts, hardly resisting the impulse to slam Logan down where he was and fuck him senseless. "Let me... let us," he growls that bit out bitterly, clearly unhappy that everyone wanted to use Logan when he got here first, but he supposed there was no getting rid of them now, "use you," he finishes. "Please? We need you so bad."

Murmurs of agreement came from all around him, and whether it be due to the venom in him, or his desire to be bred, Logan nods and blabbers "use me, please! I need it; I need all of you. Want all your eggs inside of me, please!"

Patton coos at his desperation, and Virgil and Janus don't hesitate to move out of the way just enough so that Logan can be pinned to his back against the mattress.

Shooting a knowing look towards Remus, Virgil pushes up the sleeve of his pajama shirt just enough to expose his wrist. He bends his arm so that it's positioned towards the headboard, and Janus speaks for him.

"Logan, dear, if we do absolutely anything that makes you uncomfortable, or if you want to just stop, what do you say?"

"Yellow," Logan grits out, flushed as Remus's tentacles writhe over his body, easily pulling his shirt up and over his head. The article of clothing is discarded in moments. "Or red, in the sit... situ... event I want to stop," he finishes, managing a small smile amongst the arousal, so that Janus and Virgil could be eased knowing that, for now at least, he was comfortable.

Remus pins Logan's hands above his head, before he shifts them slightly so that they're up against the headboard, and Virgil takes that as his cue to shoot a string of webbing from a tiny hole on his wrist and basically tie Logan's hands to the headboard. The webs were strong, strong enough that Logan wiggling his arms didn't budge them at all. Someone would have to cut through them in order to free him, but for now that was just about the last thought on anyone's mind.

Remus quickly works Logan's boxers off with his hands, before his wrist is suddenly grabbed by Janus.

"Wait," the deceitful side begins. "Who gets him first."

"I want him first!" comes Roman's dramatic whine, only for Virgil to growl at him.

"Back off, Princey," he snarls, with a glare. "Last to show up doesn't get the first taste."

"Oh! Can I get him first? Pretty please?" Patton begs, scooting closer to Logan and receiving growls from the four others in response.

"First come first serve," Remus spits, as his sharp nails dig into Logan's hips. "I was here first. I get to breed him first."

"That's hardly fair!"

"Piss off Roman. Or I'll knock you out and you can skip getting to empty your eggs in him at all." As he speaks, Remus's and tentacles have been slithering over Logan's body, and the tip of one teases his lips. Logan obediently opens his mouth for it, and it slips in, more of the sweet substance it's coated in dripping down his throat and making his body increasingly hotter.

Remus moans as Logan starts sucking on the tip. Despite the fact he's had Remus's tentacles in him before, he was still always caught off guard by how they felt - the suckers occasionally getting stuck to his tongue, and the easy way that the appendage slipped down his throat. He didn't gag - they'd done this enough that he was pretty confident in his deep throating abilities - but it still felt weird. Weird and good.

And it made Remus tighten his hold on him. "Fuck... what a good boy. You know just what to do with your mouth, huh? Slutty bitch."

"So, are we going on the order of arrival, then?" Janus asks, with a hum, as he works to pull the rest of his clothes off of his body. The others follow his lead as their clothes are quickly tossed off the bed and towards the floor. Any embarrassment towards them being naked is discarded and instead replaced with utter lust and the urge to breed.

Although annoyed he doesn't get to go first, Janus is content with getting Logan second. He was patient enough to wait a bit, although he was sure the others couldn't say the same.

Roman stomps his foot at the mere notion. "No! That's not what we're doing. I demand we come up with a different order."

Remus ignores him, and Janus merely rolls his eyes. Virgil was near last too, but he bit his tongue, and smacks Roman upside the head instead. "Patience, Princey," he hisses, clearly annoyed with Roman's usual flamboyant nature. His impatience was going to get him beat

Patton just grumbles out an unhappy but accepting agreement, and Remus is pleased that they've worked all that shit out, allowing him to finally direct a tentacle towards Logan's hole.

The chemical substance that has been making Logan's body hot serves as a lubricant too, so it easily slips into his hole, drawing a moan from Logan. If any of the others weren't so worried about depositing their eggs into him, they'd probably take up fucking his mouth.

But, since it was unoccupied, a thinner tentacle, presumably one with out eggs, slides towards Logan's mouth, and Logan opens right up to accept it.

His tongue works over the suckers, and Remus moans at the feeling. "Fuck, Logan, your tight hole and hot mouth feel so good around my tentacles. Slutty bitch, you'd suck eagerly on whatever slips past your lips, wouldn't you?" he grits out, as he guides another tentacle to Logan's hole, and then shoves that one in too, Logan jolting at the feeling.

He mumbles something muffled around the tentacle, and they're assured that it's not something bad due to the fact he remembers the safe motion, even when his mind his hazy with horniness.

The word "red," three taps, or three snaps, and he'd be unrestrained and they'd all baby over him despite their intense urge to breed, but they cared about him.

Chances are it was some sort of beg, and as much as they'd love to hear those, Logan seemed insistent on sucking the chemical off of the tentacle, and reacting positively as it made his body hotter and hotter, and clouded his mind with more and more pleasure.

The tentacles writhing in his ass buried themselves deeper, seemingly focused on feeling his insides, before one of them brushes up against his prostate, earning an eager moan, Logan's thighs spreading further apart.

"Oh... Logan," Remus coos, as the others watch him with a mixture of interest and desire. A glance at his cock would show it's already leaking, and out of courtesy, Patton reaches over to grab and slowly stroke it. Logan bucks his hips best he can into the touch, and Remus shoots a glare at the moral trait, but he doesn't tell him off. Logan might as well be touched, especially because he's willing to let them use him like a good boy, although it might not be good to stimulate him that much so soon.

A whine comes from Logan as one of the tentacles slithers out partially, but he cries out around the limb in his mouth as it roughly thrusts back into him, hitting his prostate and sending pleasure throughout his body. He clenches instinctively around the tentacles, and they both wiggle in presumable delight.

Wanting his hands on Logan as well, Janus tugs Remus's tentacle out of Logan's mouth, stroking over it with his own hand in order to coat it in the chemical, before he traces his thumb over Logan's bottom lip.

Logan eagerly licks where Janus's thumb swiped, before opening his mouth obediently, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in hopes he'd taste more of that addictingly sweet substance.

Janus coos at him, before he shoves his pointer and middle finger into Logan's mouth. Logan immediately closes his mouth around them, licking and sucking eagerly over Janus's sweet tasting fingers, and whining as Janus massages his tongue.

"So eager," Janus purrs, and Remus grunts from behind him, as his two tentacles speed up their thrusts into Logan's ass.

"So whorish," Remus corrects him. "He's a fucking slut, Janus. Willing to let us use and breed him like he's just a dumb fucking incubator."

"A hot fucking incubator," Roman murmurs, affectionately, as he carefully slides Logan's glasses off his face. He sets them back on his nightstand, and takes to brushing Logan's hair out of his face. Virgil takes to feeling him up, his claws dragging over Logan's chest, until they dip down and run over his balls. Virgil squeezes his sack and Logan jolts in pain, crying out around Janus's fingers.

It makes the three dark sides grin, while Roman and Patton watch Logan with pursed lips. They know he likes pain, but they still want to make sure he's okay.

"Pain-slut," Virgil grits out, as he quite roughly hits Patton's hand away from Logan's cock in order to smack it around himself.

Logan's mouth curls around Janus's fingers, his teeth firmly keeping them inside as he sucks desperately around them, and cries out pathetic moans and whines whenever Virgil's hands smack around his cock or squeezes his balls.

Roman and Patton sit off to the side, watching with great interest, but pouting over the other three getting to touch and play with their beloved toy.

Waiting their turns would be rough.

Especially because they could see the base of six more of Remus's tentacles swelling with what they presumed to be eggs. Roman would no doubt have the same ordeal, which is why Virgil, Janus, and Patton all internally sighed in relief that he'd have to go last.

Although, they're somewhat thankful when Remus suddenly groans, his cock coming over Logan's thighs. Small bulges of presumable eggs slide their way through Remus's two tentacles that have stilled in Logan's ass, and Logan cries out pathetically around Janus's fingers as he feels the eggs start to deposit themselves into his ass, as well as more of the chemical being emptied into him too.

Virgil quits slapping at his cock in order to firmly grasp it, and then he starts stroking rapidly, causing Logan's hips to buck as he moans, and then suddenly comes over Virgil's hand and his chest.

Virgil merely tuts, before wiping Logan's come against his own face, which makes him whine but otherwise just stare at Virgil with hazy, half-lidded eyes.

With all of the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins, thanks to Janus's venom and Remus's tentacles, Logan's body is still hot and he's still horny, and Patton takes over very slowly stroking his cock in order to work him quickly back up to full hardness.

After Remus's two tentacles are done emptying themselves into Logan, they pull away, but they're not done with him. One of them curls around the base of his cock, sliding past Patton's hand in order to lube his cock up with aphrodisiac, before it pulls away. Patton hums as his hand tingles, sliding his hand at a slightly quicker pace over Logan's now leaking cock.

The tentacle then slides down to Logan's ankle, with the other going to the other ankle, and they pull Logan's legs further apart.

With his legs spread further, two more tentacles slide towards his hole, and almost immediately push in afterwards, squelching around the eggs and come. They don't need to fuck him like the other tentacles did, now that they made sure most of the eggs were pushed deep into Logan, so they just bury themselves inside him and empty their contents as Remus rapidly strokes his own cock.

"That's right, baby," Remus grits, as he brings himself to another orgasm, spilling over his own tentacles and Logan's thighs again. "Taking in all my eggs and come. Gonna breed you so good. Look at your stomach? You're already so full. Can't wait to see how full you're going to look after we've all fucked our babies into you."

Logan moans as Janus shoves his fingers deeper into Logan's mouth, and would be begging to be bred if it weren't for Janus finger fucking his mouth. He does want to be bred; he wants them all to fill him up with eggs, which is why he jolts and moans when Remus's last two tentacles push into him too.

They only slide a little of the way in before the tips open up and the tentacles come into him again, more small eggs sliding into his small body, and Logan comes again, thanks to Remus's slow stroking and sliding the pad of his thumb over his slit, dirtying Patton's hand and adding to the pool of come already on his chest.

As his two tentacles pull out, Remus's fingers slide in, keeping his come and eggs packed up inside, his horny mind believing that Logan needs to keep it all packed inside to make sure they're effectively fertilized.

"Janus, get over here," Remus nearly grows. "Fuck him real good, Jan. Make sure not to let any of my eggs or come spill out, okay? And breed him like the slut he is." Although he didn't like the idea of other people breeding Logan, he might as well encourage them. Logan looked so pretty with his stomach swelling slightly with just his eggs; he could only imagine how thoroughly fucked out and full Logan would look after all of this, and boy was he getting hard again at that mental picture.

Janus grins, and scoots over towards Remus, one of Remus's tentacles quickly wrapping and pumping Janus's cocks. The chemical sliding over them works to lube them up, but it also sends pleasurable heat through his cocks. Janus slides closer now that his cocks are lubed up, and as Remus's fingers slide out, Janus pushes one of his cocks in.

He's thrilled feeling Remus's come and eggs already packed inside of him, and Logan moans out "Janus!" when he feels Janus's second cock rub against his own.

With Janus no longer gagging his mouth, Logan was whining and babbling out incoherent pleas spurred on by the aphrodisiac circulating his mind. All he thought about was being fucked and filled, just like they promised he would be.

Patton grabs both Janus and Logan's cocks and rubs them together, before Janus takes hold of his second cock and eases it into Logan's hole, making him jolt at the stretch. "Janus- Janus!" Logan whines, drool dripping from the corner of his chin. "So big! Feel so full; want to be full of your eggs Janus!"

"Don't worry, darling," Janus purrs, just barely thrusting into Logan, hardly enough to provide Logan with pleasurable friction, but Janus himself can't help groaning at the way Logan clenches down on his cock, as if trying to milk the eggs and come from his cock. "You'll get them soon enough."

He pulls out about halfway, before slowly pushing back in, earning a breathy gasp from Logan, who's immediately trying to roll his hips down on Janus's cocks. He wants more; he desperately craves more, and yet Janus was going slow with him. The glint in his eye showed that he was doing it solely to be a tease.

He leans over Logan as he pulls out a bit again, slowly pushing in again just like last time, feeling Remus's eggs move around his cocks. He presses his lips to Logan's, forked tongue sliding easily into Logan's mouth and tasting around the area. Logan leans up into the kiss, mouth open eagerly as his tongue presses curiously against Janus's. They'd kissed multiple times, but even while mindlessly horny thanks to aphrodisiac, Logan still slid his tongue between the fork in Janus's, and Janus couldn't help but think it was rather cute.

The others watched with mildly annoyed expressions, although some of them tried to place their interest above it. Of course Janus would go achingly slow; he liked to be a tease, and issue things out when they're most unexpected, and hearing Logan beg for him is no doubt getting him off.

When Janus finally pulls away, Logan chases after his lips desperately, and whines when Janus merely coos at him instead. He resorts to trailing kisses down Logan's jaw instead, kissing over the bite mark he already made, before sucking a dark, purple mark into Logan's skin. The sight makes the others hiss in disapproval, but causes Logan to tilt his head to the side.

He's too horny to care about his pride, as he instead begs "Janus, please, mark me up more! Need them, need you, please!" He sounds utterly pathetic, but it causes Janus to lick his lips, and grin.

"Don't worry, kitten," Janus purrs, as he trails his kisses down to Logan's shoulders. "I'll make sure to mark you up good. Show everyone that sees you that you belong to me," he promises, before he sucks another mark into Logan's skin.

"Belongs to us," Virgil corrects him, trailing a sharp nail over Logan's jaw. Logan looks up at him with cloudy eyes, and as Virgil's finger traces over his lips, Logan's mouth opens and his tongue lolls out, as if inviting Virgil to do what he pleased with it. Virgil grins, and the urge to thrust his cock inside Logan's waiting mouth was immeasurable, but he wanted to empty his eggs in a place his horny mind believed they could be fertilized, even if they logically couldn't.

So, Virgil does what Janus did and shoves his fingers inside Logan's mouth, albeit rougher, and Logan gets right to sucking and tonguing over them. Roman, feeling a little left out, scoots to the other side of the bed near Remus, and when Janus's kisses and hickeys start start trailing lower, Roman greedily takes up licking and sucking over Logan's neck. Remus, with his unlimited stamina, is touching his own cock, but he's filled with the urge to come over Logan's body. He wants to mess him up and ruin him, more than he's already ruined.

His hair is disheveled and matter to his head in sweat, with his own come quickly drying over his stomach. Janus licks some of it up while simultaneously trailing his fangs over his body and causing Logan to whine around Virgil's fingers at the thought of being bitten and pumped full of Janus's venom again.

He'd be high off the aphrodisiac for a while, but if they saw it wearing off in the midst of their breeding session, Janus would just bite him or one of the twins will feed him chemicals again to make sure he can continue coming throughout their playtime.

Janus leaves a few hickeys down Logan's chest, before he finally pulls out nearly all the way and thrusts all the way back in, roughly jolting Logan's body and earning a loud moan from him. He lets out a muffled cry of Janus's name around Virgil's fingers, before his teeth lightly close around the digits. He doesn't want Virgil's fingers to pull away like Janus's had, as his tongue eagerly slides over the fingers and coats them with his saliva.

Logan's legs close on instinct when Janus thrusts against his prostate, so two more arms emerge from Janus's sides and take hold of Logan's thighs, spreading his legs further apart and keeping them there. He's met with little resistance, and just to feel Logan up a bit, he squeezes and gropes Logan's chubby thighs.

His manicured nails dig into the muscle as his thrusts get harder, mercilessly abusing Logan's prostate and causing Logan to let out frequent moans and cries of pleasure, mixed with the occasional gag as Virgil shoves his fingers deeper into Logan's mouth. His nails briefly scratch against his throat, but the discomfort of such is quickly forgotten due to the constant pleasure he's receiving.

With Patton's hand still softly working his cock, he comes again, eyes rolling back into his head as he gags around Virgil's fingers, a choked moan barely audible. His hole clenches around Janus's cock, earning a groan from the deceitful side.

"Logan," Janus moans out, his nails digging hard into Logan's thighs, puncturing the skin and drawing blood that drips across Logan's thighs. The blood catches Virgil's attention, and he licks his lips as the red droplets spill down the muscle only to stain Logan's bedsheets and completely go to waste.

One of his eyes twitch, before he slips his fingers out of Logan's mouth, allowing the moans he's letting out to be louder, before one of Virgil's hands grab Logan's throat, squeezing tight. His nails lightly scratch over the skin, and Logan gasps as his hands tug on the strong webs around his wrists.

Janus's thrusts get more sporadic, still fucking into Logan's prostate and working him back up to full hardness yet again. Patton's hand has moved down to lightly fondle and squeeze Logan's balls, as Roman had moved his mouth to Logan's cock.

He was sucking over the tip, and occasionally dragging his teeth over Logan's shaft whenever his head bobs down, which earns strangled moans and whines from Logan. Logan would buck up into his mouth if Janus's hands didn't keep his bottom half planted.

"Going to fill you up, darling," Janus gasps out, as he feels a pit of warmth pool in his stomach. "Can't wait to see your stomach bulge once you're full of my eggs. All of our eggs." His words are breathy, before he suddenly thrusts deep into Logan's ass and comes, both of his cocks pumping out eggs and come that fill Logan further, and Logan's back arches as he moans, relishing in the feeling of being filled even more.

Janus has significantly less eggs than Remus, which is to be expected considering Remus had multiple tentacles that needed to dispense eggs, but his eggs are a bit bigger, which makes Logan's legs shake as he comes again. He's driven to climax by that feeling mixed with Roman's tongue stimulating his slit. He's getting oversensitive, which amuses them greatly.

It'd be joyous to see how thoroughly wrecked he'd be by the end of this.

"Patton," Janus calls, his cocks still buried inside Logan. Patton looks away from Logan's throat, where Virgil's hand had eased up and had instead turned to dragging his nails over Logan's chest, occasionally scratching hard enough to draw blood that Virgil then eagerly licks up, looking utterly euphoric just from tasting Logan's blood.

Patton scoots over so that he's between Logan's legs, gently rubbing over the scratches Janus had caused. This time, one of Roman's tentacles slide over Patton's cock in order to lube it up, and Patton shyly moans at the feeling.

Then, as Janus slowly pulls out, Patton slowly pushes in, in hopes nothing spills out of Logan's ass. Luckily, by the time Janus is pulled out fully, nothing seems to have spilled out, and Patton moans as he feels the other two's come already packed tightly inside of Logan.

"Oh... oh gosh..." Patton gasps, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Logan around him. He was excited to finally get his turn with Logan, and that shows through in the way he bites his lip and rather firmly squeezes at Logan's thick thighs.

Remus meanwhile motions Janus over, both of them currently satisfied with emptying their eggs into their cute little incubator, so they can cuddle. They both sit nearby, and with the pleased expressions Logan's making, they both knew they'd undoubtedly end up hard again, but all of them knew how pretty Logan looks when he's utterly drenched in their come.

Patton's significantly softer than all of them, so he takes his time to allow Logan a peaceful respite, although Roman continues to mouth and lightly bite at Logan's cock and the skin surrounding it, and Virgil had taken to marking up Logan's neck.

The anxious side's fangs pierce his skin with every new bite, and Virgil greedily sucks over every new bite in order to ingest Logan's delicious blood.

"Patton," Logan whines, now that his mouth is unoccupied, and Patton's lets out a moan at just the sound of Logan saying his name. Tears are brimming in his eyes as Roman deepthroats his cock, purposely going quite slow, but still teasingly working his tongue over Logan's slit and practically tempting him to come again.

He's oversensitive, the chemical being fully digested and absorbed into his skin by now, which left the aftereffects of oversensitivity and heat, and he was easily being driven closer to climax by just a few bobs of Roman's head, and Patton's cock resting motionlessly inside of him.

Janus nudges Remus as he notices, and Remus scoots closer. "Open wide, Logie," he purrs, and Logan obediently does what he's told, whining as one of Remus's tentacles slip into his mouth.

Already, more aphrodisiac is being graciously sucked down by Logan, the suckers on the tentacle briefly attaching themselves to Logan's tongue as he laps at it like he needs it, and with each greedy swallow of the chemical, Logan grows more and more mindless, and his stamina is briefly boosted.

His body is still sensitive, and tears drip down his face as the tentacle squirms further down Logan's throat, causing him to choke around it, but he doesn't stop eagerly sucking what Remus has so graciously given him.

Instead, he sucks and sucks until Remus pulls it out of his mouth, and even so he tries to follow after it with his mouth, whining when some drips onto his face and rolls down his cheek, eventually landing on the bedsheets and going to waste.

By now, Roman's head has come to a stop at the head of his cock, focused and intentionally stimulating his slit in hopes of making him writhe, and is utterly successful.

Virgil's hickeys move down to his shoulders and collarbone, and that's when Patton decides to finally start his thrusts. They're slow, and careful, and strangely caring. Sex with Patton always feels overly intimate, even in the kinkiest of times, but right now, the way he bit his lip and gripped a bit tighter at Logan's thighs every time he thrusted into him was a sight that made Logan moan, even in his hazy state.

Morality doing something that was perceived to be the farthest from innocence, and doing so with a red face and a quiet but confident nature had him moaning, and his legs wrap around Patton's waist as if encouraging to thrust deeper, harder, and to completely ruin and fill him.

"More, fill me, please," he whines out, rolling his hips in an attempt to fuck himself back on Patton's cock, desperate to be filled with his eggs.

"Baby, baby, shhh," Patton shushes him, leaning down to press an all-too-soft kiss against Logan's lips in order to keep him quiet. His pleading was cute, but if he kept begging then Patton might just have to give in.

But, Logan's lips part obediently for Patton, allowing Patton's tongue to slip into his mouth. Their lips move fluidly against each others, despite the fact Logan was insatiably horny.

And, despite Logan's pleas between kisses and touches, Patton continues a slow and steady pace with him.

Such a pace makes Virgil hiss where he sits, and he quite forcibly pulls Roman's head away from Logan's cock in favor of going back to ruthlessly stroking him. He knows it probably won't do much to convince Patton to go faster and get his turn over with, but he might as well please Logan while they wait, and his nails dragging over Logan's shaft while his free hand squeezes at his balls makes Logan cry out in pain, as tears fall down his cheeks.

However, he looks near euphoric when Patton moves his lips away from Logan's, and the more Virgil slaps around his cock and balls, the more Logan writhes and cries, with a few pathetic moans still slipping out of his mouth.

A part of Patton wants to encourage Virgil to be nicer, but as Roman starts nipping and sucking over Logan's skin, only adding to the pleasure the logical side is feeling, Patton finds he's too invested in Logan's pretty noises and expressions to care much about how they hurt him. As long as Logan liked it, he liked it.

Janus and Remus are both unsurprisingly getting off on the sounds Logan's making too. Remus likes seeing him in pain, and likes making fun of him for enjoying it so much, which he doesn't hesitate to do. Janus, on the other hand, is praising and teasing Logan for the way his body jerks and shakes with Patton's hard thrusts, and yet the way Logan moans for him to go faster because Patton treats him too sweetly.

Mixes of "painslut, I bet you enjoy Virgil clawing at your stupid little cock. I bet you wish he'd cut it off. It's not like you need it anyway; you'll never get the chance to fuck any of us. Stupid bottom," and "what a good boy, taking what he's given. You should be more grateful to Patton though; he may no be going fast but with the way your legs are shaking, I'd say he's making you feel real good, isn't he, kitten?"

And Logan's responses are just as mixed, with eager cries of "yes, I'm a painslut! Don't need my cock- just need my hole to be filled!" followed by whines of "thank you, Patton. Feels so- so good! So close; love your cock, Patton! I want your eggs, please!"

He didn't sound like his normal, proper self, but that was too be expected when someone was pumped full of a literal horny chemical.

"You'll get them soon enough, baby," Patton assures Logan, followed by a soft shushing noise. He loved how noisy Logan was, but his voice was starting to sound strained from all the moaning he'd done already.

He still had two more loads to take, not counting the load Patton was about to give him.

Logan suddenly jolts as Patton thrusts hard into his prostate, legs trembling due to how much pressure he'd already sustained tonight. He had unlimited stamina, thanks to being a figment of Thomas's imagination, and could come as many times as they wanted him to, but it took a toll on his body thanks to the fact he was created to be human-esque.

Which means the others get to watch adoringly as Logan's body shook with sensitivity, and the way his hips bucked when Virgil suddenly squeezes tight around the base of his cock, before rapidly stroking it, causing Logan's back to arch as he cries out Virgil's name, before suddenly coming over his messy chest and Virgil's hand, but Virgil keeps going.

"Better hurry up and make Patton come," Virgil says, sounding confident and rather harsh. All the dark sides were rather mean during sex; they liked to be in control, and they especially liked torturing Logan with that control.

Logan's hands tug pathetically at the webbing around his wrists, tears falling down his face as he chokes on his own drool. "Patton!" he cries, hole clenching tight around Patton's cock. "Come in me, please! Need you, need you so bad..." he starts to sound like he's sobbing near the end, and with a slightly more worried look, Virgil's free hand grabs Logan's chin.

"Tell us your colour," Virgil orders, although his voice comes out comparably soft, and Patton's thrusts get softer as he awaits Logan's answer.

Through a hiccup, Logan says "green... 'm just so sensitive," and it was about what they were expecting. Roman scoots closer to Logan's head, and kisses at the tears falling down Logan's face, before Patton's thrusts pick back up. Roman, admittedly, was excited at the prospect of Logan being near incoherent when it was finally time for him to use him.

Dumb and horny; the perfect little incubator.

Remus and Janus's hands speed up on their own cocks, determined to come around the same time as Patton, and both Roman and Virgil's cocks throb at the broken moans Logan was letting out. They both needed him, and they needed him soon.

Though, as Patton's breath gets more audible, moaning and groaning more often, the two left are assured that he's close. To further confirm their suspicions, Patton ends up gasping out "Logan- Logan I'm close."

Logan moans at Patton's words, legs shaking as Patton gropes the fat muscle and keeps his legs spread. Logan was pushing against him, unintentionally, of course, as he instinctually wanted to close his legs and pull Patton closer.

Virgil's hand, which hadn't stopped its assault on Logan's cock, squeezes harder as his free hand moves to Logan's balls instead, going back to scratching, slapping, and squeezing in order to make Logan cry more. The pain causes Logan to clench around Patton's cock again, and Patton moans as he thrusts into the tight heat.

With a few more thrusts, Patton comes with a moan into Logan, a large amount of tiny eggs and come spilling into his body. Patton grinds against Logan's hips as he rides out his orgasm, before looking at Virgil as he pants. Virgil immediately moves his hands away from Logan's genitalia, and scoots to where Patton was, leaving Logan whining and bucking his hips, desperate for more friction to bring him to yet another orgasm, despite the fact he felt like he might pass out if he came again. Still, he doesn't safeword; he knows he can take the rest of their eggs. He wants to.

Remus and Janus also end up coming again, come shooting over Logan's chest, and some of Janus's come even managing to get over his face. Logan hardly seems fazed, though, and just whines at his own desperate urge to come.

Just like last time, one of Roman's tentacles slide over Virgil cock, lubing it up, so that when Patton pulls out, Virgil can quickly, and rather roughly, thrust his cock into Logan's hole.

Patton moves to cuddle against Janus's side, one of Janus's arms sprouting from his side so that he can pull Patton close to him. One round was all it took to tire Patton out, so Janus rubbed his side as the moral side watched Logan with half-lidded eyes. Although he was ready to lay down and cuddle, he knew Virgil and Roman needed to breed Logan too, and he wouldn't miss seeing Logan shake and moan for the world.

Hands tightly gripping Logan's legs, Virgil sets a fast pace with his thighs. He's not normally so impatient, but his cock has been achingly hard nearly this entire time, and he needs to empty his eggs into their cute little logical side soon, or he might just burst.

Roman's whining and pouting all the same, although he's tried to occupy himself with licking and sucking Logan's nipples. His body has been pretty thoroughly covered in hickeys, both from the side's mouths and from the twin's tentacles, whose suckers were constantly latching on and sucking against Logan's skin.

As Virgil fucks into Logan, one of Roman's tentacles slide back up to his mouth. It doesn't go inside, despite Logan opening his mouth for it and trying to lean his head up in hopes of at least suckling on the tip, but the tentacle just moves further out of his reach.

If Roman was aware of it, he would have generously given Logan the tentacle to suck on, but he was mindlessly occupying himself with sucking around Logan's nipples to give him even more stimulation.

The tentacle dripped the horny chemical over Logan's face, only getting into his mouth if Logan held it open, and often times still missing, which prompted Logan to stick his tongue out. It was leaking an incredulous amount, drips pouring one after the other, and dripping down his chin and fortunately down his throat, and serving to give him a bit more energy, and a lot more stamina.

Virgil's hunched over Logan's quaking body, lips reattaching themselves to Logan's collarbone. His sharp teeth are digging into Logan's skin as his thrusts grow needy. He's so pent up, just from watching the others have their way with him.

Logan can't really do much else but arch his back when Virgil's cock rams against his prostate, and cry out something near incoherent due to his mouth hanging open in an attempt to gather more oh the aphrodisiac.

It sounds vaguely like Virgil's name, but none of them can be sure at this point. Drool is running down Logan's chin as his body jolts with each thrust into his severely overstimulated body. His mind was basically empty except for sex, and both Virgil and Roman's hands were running over his stomach, which was noticeably larger due to the eggs and come packed inside of him.

There was so much, and Virgil's cock driving into him just served to jostle the eggs around. He'd be more scared about them breaking if he wasn't being so mind numbingly pleasured.

"There's just me and Roman left, L," Virgil assures him, pulling away from Logan's now bleeding collarbone with the red liquid present on his lips. "Think you can hold all of our eggs? You're going to look so full by the time we're done with you. Our good boy; our good little incubator."

Logan's nodding before Virgil's even done talking, although his tongue stays out of his mouth. Roman pulls away from kissing and nipping at Logan's chest and finally notices that the logical side is trying to get more aphrodisiac from the tentacle. Not wanting to risk wasting eggs by coming down Logan's throat (and potentially choking him in the process), Roman slides his hand over his tentacle, coating his hand in the aphrodisiac, before moving his fingers to Logan's mouth.

Logan eagerly sucks them in, before his tongue is working over Roman's fingers, and as Roman adds more into his mouth, Logan obediently sucks more aphrodisiac off, making his body hotter and giving him a bit more energy to push onwards with.

The tentacles then continue to mindlessly rub over his body, even curling around one of Virgil's wrists at some point, and drag more of the chemical over Logan's already sensitive body. One of them even ends up sliding itself around Logan's cock, sliding up and down it, while occasionally squeezing, serving to give Logan a mock handjob.

Virgil's cock finds his prostate moments later, and Logan near comes just from the pleasure he gets from it. He sucks harder on Roman's fingers as he cries out around them, and when Roman finally pulls them out, Logan's babbling for Virgil to keep hitting that spot and making him feel good, and going on and on about how he's so close, which earns insulting words from Remus and degrading muttering from Virgil, who's leaned in close to Logan's ear.

"Our good little slut; going to come again?" Virgil purrs, before nipping at Logan's earlobe and drawing a pathetic whine from him.

"Yes, yes," Logan gasps out, voice shaking as Virgil repeatedly thrusts into his prostate, his nails dragging over Logan's body before tightly holding his hips, leaving behind bright red marks that pop against Logan's pale skin.

Virgil himself was close; hot and horny just from watching the others have their way with him, and also due to a desperate need to pump his eggs into Logan. If Roman wasn't waiting to go after him, Virgil probably would have thought about going for a second round.

Oh well; there's always tomorrow.

His teeth are nipping and biting over any skin that hasn't already been marked up, as his thrusts grow more sporadic. It was probably pathetic how close Virgil was already, but as Logan comes again with a cry of his name, Virgil decides he doesn't really care. All he wants is to fill Logan up and breed his boyfriend.

His nails dig deeper into Logan's hips, holding hard enough to potentially bruise him, as Virgil's thrusts get harder. Logan's eyes are squeezed shut, with tears flowing constantly, and Virgil's getting off on it. He cares about Logan, of course, they all do, but watching him cry because he was so wracked with pain and pleasure was admittedly a guilty pleasure of theirs.

"Virgil!" Logan cries, voice strained. "Come in me, please! I want your eggs; I want them so bad!" He sounds like he's pleading, although it was clear Virgil planned to come inside of Logan anyway. It's what he's been craving doing all night.

And, well, Virgil can hardly resist giving his baby what he wants. With a few more hard thrusts, Virgil's emptying his eggs into Logan's ass, Roman pulling back slightly to watch with half-lidded eyes as Logan's stomach expands even more, filling up as Virgil's come and eggs are deposited into his ass. Virgil rides out his orgasm, thrusting hard throughout it, and stimulating Logan all the while, while Logan cries and shakes as Virgil comes.

Roman's eager to get his own turn, and Virgil ends up guiding the tentacle around Logan's cock to Logan's ass, and it wiggles in alongside Virgil's cock before Virgil slowly pulls out. He and Roman switch positions, before Remus ends up roughly grabbing Virgil's midsection and pulling him close, and in for cuddles.

Virgil hisses at him, but let's Remus hold him tightly regardless, Janus also reaching over to soothingly rub Virgil's thigh.

Roman eagerly situates himself between Logan's legs, cooing softly as he pushes a second tentacle into Logan's ass. Logan's hole spreads easily around his tentacles, and the tentacles were slick enough they went in without trouble.

Roman groans at the tightness, and Logan whines at the prospect of being stuffed full of Roman's eggs, and finally being bred by all of his boyfriends.

"Finally," Logan hears Roman mutter, as his tentacles set to a fast pace of wiggling and thrusting. They worm their way around the eggs all stuffed inside of Logan, mixing the other's come around and causing Logan's stomach to shift and move as the eggs are hit with thrusts.

The rest of Roman's tentacles are restless, sliding over Logan's legs and leaving more sucker marks over his ankles and calves, attempting to occupy themselves as they're forced to wait in order to empty the eggs that's been stuffed inside of them for the past night.

The two inside of Logan are constantly rubbing against each other and seem to shiver in pleasure whenever Logan clenches around them; very clearly responding positively to Logan's pleasure.

Similarly to Virgil, Roman's extremely close already. His tentacles have been swelling with eggs, and his tentacles have been rubbing over Logan since he's been in the logical side's room, so they were eager to come inside of Logan and breed him fully.

"You look so beautiful," Roman gasps out, as his tentacles are stimulated while they thrust into Logan's ass. One of his hands works his own cock, while the other squeezes and gropes at Logan's thighs, as everyone else had this evening.

They all like his thighs; groping them and squeezing the fat makes them all happy, and Logan likes the attention, regardless of what form it comes in.

With no warning, the two tentacles inside of Logan suddenly come, as does Roman, as he moans out Logan's name as his come splatters over one of his tentacles and one of Logan's thighs. His eggs slowly push through his tentacles and into Logan, come spilling out with it, and as those slip out, two more efficiently slip in. They're fucking into him just like the previous to, and Roman bends down to kiss Logan sweetly, and whisper sweet words in Spanish when they part.

Normally, Logan would respond with something also in Spanish, as he'd taken up learning it for Roman's sake, or he'd respond with a simple thank you at the compliments Roman often tossed his way, but right now he was too dumb due to the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling to respond in any way other than a moan.

The only thing Logan knew was that Roman soothingly speaking another language to him made him happy, and the tentacles inside of him, which had found his prostate and have been continuing to thrust and rub against it, made him overwhelmingly horny.

He moans relentlessly against Roman's lips, the spit and drool coating them smearing over Roman's chin as they messily make-out. Deciding to give Logan even more attention, when Roman's tentacles come again, and in turn when he comes again, Roman uses his come as lube to stroke Logan's cock. His pace is steady and rather sweet, while his last two tentacles slide themselves into Logan.

They don't thrust, more so just writhing, as Roman sucks on Logan's bottom lip and then kisses down his chin. They're both moaning and panting; Logan's babbling out incoherent pleas, as he tugs pathetically at the webbing keeping him stuck to the headboard, while Roman's mumbling praises between his own sounds of pleasure.

Roman's always been known to be vocal, and his noises of pleasure ultimately spur Logan on, as he begs with broken words for Roman to fill him up with the rest of his eggs.

"I need them, please!" Logan begs, as tears continuously pour down his face. He hiccups in between talking, and his legs shake as he attempts to spread them further apart, as if further enticing Roman to come in him. "Please, please, please, Roman, I want your eggs so bad!"

He sounds utterly pathetic, and the four sitting to the side all feel their breaths get caught in their throats.

Logan was rather hot when he was mindlessly horny and without a filter; they liked hearing him pathetically beg and cry for their eggs and come. If any of them could, they'd be hard again, but instead they just watched with extreme interest as Roman grits his teeth, the tentacles wiggling inside of Logan suddenly beginning to thrust, harshly slamming against his prostate, before Logan suddenly cries out Roman's name, body trembling as he comes for the final time, Roman's hand stilling almost immediately in hopes not to overstimulate him further.

His eggs slide through his tentacles, and after the last of the eggs and come are pumped into Logan's ass, Roman looks over at Remus and Janus, knowing they'd understand.

Janus is the one who ultimately ends up moving, much to Remus's dismay, and after sorting through Logan's nightstand, Janus shows off a silver buttplug. He hands it over to Roman, who lubes it up with a tentacle, before sliding it into Logan as the tentacles pull out.

Janus then summons something to cut through Virgil's webbing, thus releasing Logan's wrists from the tight hold they were in.

The deceitful side kisses over the laceration marks, before he glances at the others, unsure of where to proceed from here.

Patton scoots closer, brushing some of the hair from Logan's eyes, and Logan's breathing heavily as he leans into the hand Patton eventually rests against his cheek. "How are you feeling, Logan?" Patton questions, voice soft.

"Tired... good..." Logan responds, eyes closed. His voice is quiet and raspy, but he's clearly happy.

"Do you want to shower?"

Logan's quiet for a few moments, before he shakes his head slightly. "No. I don't think I can stand. Wipe me down, please?" He'll shower tomorrow, with the help of his boyfriends, but for now he'll lay happily, and contently rub his full stomach. The idea of having to empty himself sometime soon is saddening, but hey.

There's always next time.

i... kind of went overboard. sorry this took so long, but i hope it was worth it!

also, reminder, if you check my blog, i have a post involving a kinky things bingo, which is a bunch of kinky prompts. im taking recommendations for ships to do with certain prompts, so if youd like to see me write a specific ship with any of those prompts, then lmk ;))

#sanders sides smut #not safe for sanders #drlamp smut #logan smut #janus smut #remus smut #roman smut #virgil smut #patton smut #dlampr smut #intrulogical smut #logince smut #analogical smut #logicality smut #loceit smut #agp smut

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luminari-mc · 3 years

Text

My Human, My Sunshine - Part 2

Pairing: GN!MC x Mammon

Genres: Angst, hurt/comfort.

Word count: 4642

Warnings: N/A

Summary: As a human and a demon get to enjoy the presence of one another again, Mammon knows deep down that behind this ephemeral bliss, hides a looming and powerful storm.

PART 1 - PART 2 -

A/N: it's almost Mammon's birthday! And as promised, here is part 2 of my little series! While part 1 was made to place several plot points here and there, this chapter really starts to set things in motion for future chapters, and especially part 3.

All I have to say here is... Enjoy the fluff while it lasts.

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For the first time in a while... the human world felt much more colorful. Much more silent. It was as if life itself had been born anew, the suffocating darkness engulfing the world having been cast away for the light to reclaim its rightful ownership. The evil dragon of separation had finally been put to rest, and so, the chirping of the birds quickly replaced the self-deprecating thoughts of the people.

The only question left on the people's minds, as their bodies embraced so close to one another throughout the night, rejoicing to finally be back in the other's company, was... for how long, would that blissful respite last?

The night had been deep and short, but much welcoming. The weariness that had taken over the couple's bodies over the past two months had thoroughly vanished, as if all of this had been nothing but a bad dream. How much they wished it had been the case, and that the kisses they had shared the previous night didn't have to be ones filled with the need to feel the other's presence so desperately, for their minds to realize that they were here, and he was here, together in the same room at long last.

A human hand gently caressed a white-haired head, the demon to which it belonged still soundly asleep. Despite it being a few hours after dawn, MC had only recently opened their eyes to the first rays of sunlight, finding themself still in the same position as they had fallen asleep in. Mammon's arms were still firmly wrapped around their frame, their proximity allowing him to breathe in the scent of their skin as his nose brushed against their collarbone each time his chest rose up in his sleep.

Remaining laid down on their side, the human could only keep still and watch the face of their demon in adoration, still unsure whether they really had him in their bed with him, or if the loneliness of the past few weeks had truly made them lose their mind beyond salvation.

But as their fingers gently passed in his hair, their caresses never ending, MC couldn't help but wonder... what had Mammon done since the last time they saw him? How had he spent his time in the Devildom? How were the others? And most importantly, how had he found his way to them? Not that much conversation had been achieved the previous night, to answer all of their questions... The two of them had quickly realized, as MC came to drag Mammon inside the apartment, their clothes damp from the rain that had been dripping from his body, that what they wanted, as their lips met again and again, weren't answers, but to feel each other. And before any of them could notice, they had both fallen into a deep slumber that lasted the entire night.

MC raised their head slightly to look out of the bay window on the other side of the room. Outside, they could partially perceive the colors of the other buildings of the city in the horizon, the sunlight reflecting on their windows brightly and making them squint their eyes in response. They would have preferred to be able to see the green of the trees lined up in the street below, but that was one of the many flaws of this place... the floor that Solomon had chosen for MC to reside in was just way, way too high up.

If it hadn't been for a pair of arms pulling them slightly forward, MC wouldn't have noticed the half-closed pair of blue eyes staring at them in silence. MC immediately lowered their side back against the mattress, their head meeting with the pillow once more. Under the covers, they moved a leg instinctively against Mammon's.

"Good morning." They whispered through a smile, a sound so affectionate to one demon's ears that his hand slid from under the blanket to place itself on the human's cheek.

"Is this a dream?"

Mammon's words surprised them, but only for a short second. The demon's expression was nothing but serious, a slightly furrowed brow adorning his forehead as if he was expecting to receive a positive, yet disappointing answer to his question. Instead, MC's smiled turned only sweeter. They closed their eyes before pulling Mammon closer to them.

"It's not a dream." They felt him place his face in the crook of their neck. "You're with me, and I'm with you. It's for real."

Almost as if he was holding back tears, Mammon inhaled deeply, before closing the empty space between his body and MC's until there was nothing left. Their hand was brought back to the back of his head, drawing slow circles in the hopes of soothing him.

"I still can't believe it." His words seemed to be on the verge of breaking up as they slipped through his gritted teeth. "It feels like you've been gone for a thousand years, even worse... Why the hell did I only find ya now..."

"Mammon..." MC opened their eyes again to urgently place a gentle kiss on top of the demon's head. "What's important is that you found me. It is much better than if a thousand years had really passed, don't you think?"

Mammon's head leaned away from the warmth of their neck, his glassy eyes able to meeting theirs again. His mouth stayed agape for a few seconds, before both of his hands cupped MC's face in place.

"I know I asked last night, but you sure you're okay, right? Nobody has hurt you or experimented on you or anythin'?"

"I'm okay, Mammon." They placed their hands on top of his, a small chuckle escaping through their lips. "I swear, all I did was practice magic with Solomon and live a boring human life."

"But you sure it was normal magic? What if it was some weird spells and he was secretly messing with your body without you knowing?"

His worry made them sigh softly, their thumbs brushing the back of his hands. It was understandable for him to be so concerned for their safety, after receiving no news in such a long time. And the demons had always been wary of Solomon ever since they had known the wizard, to the point where MC themself, had even grown to wonder why Solomon had been acting the way he did, since they had gone back to the human world.

"I promise you." They responded, yet unsure themself of the veracity of their words. "Nothing has been done to me."

Silence fell between the both of them again, a staring contest where Mammon was expecting them to let go of a much harder truth, which never came. He was the first to break eye contact, rather preferring to stare into the space between MC's head and the pillow.

"Solomon... He's hidin' something too. I just know it"

His sudden pouting mouth and words made MC blink. "Too? What do you mean...?"

After marking a wordless pause, Mammon's hands slid off their cheeks, his upper body rising up as he sat himself into the bed. The sheets fell onto his hips, leaving his arm exposed for MC to grab in case he was trying to avoid their question and get up. But instead, all he did was pass a hand through his hair as a deep sigh left his lungs.

"Mammon?" MC called out, their voice starting to show concern due to the demon's sudden secrecy. But as they read his expression a bit more clearly from their laid position in the bed, and as they watched the creases between his eyebrows form, and his jaw clenching, they realized that... Mammon probably knew more about all this than themself.

"A... A lot of shit went down ever since you left, MC." The demon kept his palm in his hair, leaving his forehead exposed. "It's gone bad, and I just... I-I just dunno what to do anymore."

It wouldn't take a genius to see how perturbed Mammon was about this subject- you just had to see the way his fingers had wrapped around his own hair, almost as if he was about to pull a handful, the questions in his mind twirling in a never-ending whirlpool of torment. One thing MC was grateful for, however, was how much more open he had become with them ever since they had known each other.

As MC propped themself on their elbow, they allowed their hand to wander up and down Mammon's arm to remind him of their presence.

"... Do you want some breakfast? I'd rather you explain everything while stuffing yourself with waffles. I make them delicious, I promise."

Although he glanced at them from the corner of his eyes, his pout only seemed to double. MC stopped their hand from rubbing his skin before placing it above his own, their thumb gently brushing the back of it. Like a timid child, his cheeks darkened, letting his voice, now low, respond to their question.

"I... could go with some of your waffles."

After putting some clothes on, apart from Mammon who could only rely on one of MC's loose jogging pants due to his clothes from the previous night still dripping wet on a nearby chair-, MC made their way to the kitchen to prepare something for their demon.

Throughout the whole process, Mammon never left their side. Once his arms had been locked around their frame from behind as they began preparing the waffles, he hadn't let go. His chin remained on their shoulder, his body moving alongside them whenever they had to go to a cabinet to grab a bowl, a whip, or even when they went to pick the different ingredients for the batter. MC had asked in the beginning "are you sure you don't want to sit at the table?", wanting him not to be standing more than his tired legs could bear. But their question was only met with a shaking of his head, before his forehead met with the warmth of their skin. "I'm good there", he had answered. And so MC let him hold on to them, enjoying the feeling of his arms around their waist, and the few kisses he would place here and there alongside their neck and cheek. This calm, this peace, this comfortable silence... they had forgotten what it felt like.

Once all the batter had been changed into hot and steamy waffles, and the rest of the breakfast had been made, the couple sat around the kitchen table.

"So... is it that bad?" MC placed their hands around their hot cup of cocoa, taking a sip of the drink as Mammon filled his mouth with a waffle he had covered in strawberry jam. MC had insisted that he was to eat his batch first, with him having barely eaten anything the previous day. Even if he was a demon, he needed to have a proper morning meal.

"It's almost as if you had never been in the house in the first place." Mammon answered after swallowing his bite. "Satan went back on being super pissy with Lucifer for the smallest things, Levi eats his meals in his room and never comes out. I see Asmo buyin' even more beauty products than usual and he's constantly askin' us if "this and that" suits him, to the point where it's ridiculous. Beel almost stopped eating entirely because he was too worried for ya. If it weren't for Belphie, he would have turned into a literal stick. Now Belphie sleeps more often too. And Lucifer, he..."

He stabbed one of the waffles with his fork, before tearing a piece of it with his teeth. MC's brow instantly furrowed with concern.

"He just has to know why we couldn't reach you. He's been lyin' through his teeth for weeks on end, but he thinks he's being so sly and that we're too dumb to see it." Another teared piece of the waffle disappeared into his mouth. "Like, sure, he's been way more on edge ever since you left the Devildom and even more after we've all started askin' why we couldn't talk to you, but that just shows that he knows somethin' and we don't."

With a slower movement, his fork planted into the remaining bits of the waffle. "But it's just... I don't understand, you get it? Why would he try to hide something about you from us? All of a sudden we can't send you texts or call you like we used to everytime you had to come back to the human world, and out of nowhere he starts actin' all weird about it. It's just..."

MC noticed Mammon's jaw clenching, his hand and fork immobile as it stayed firmly planted into the waffle. The demon swallowed harshly, letting the human know how the situation back at home must have been for him. Without their presence, the brothers had turned back into their previous selves, if not worse.

"What about you?" They asked, making the second-born jerk his head upward at them. "How are you feeling?"

"M-Me? It's... not important." He looked away shamefully, the pressure on the fork increasing and his nail starting to dig into his palm.

"Mammon." Their hand reached forward to wrap itself around the one that was holding the fork. "If my absence has been affecting everyone like this... I want to know how you dealt with it, too."

They patiently waited until Mammon finally dared cross his gaze with their own once again.

"I... dammit, don't laugh, okay?" He muttered. "But, I guess when we learned you didn't have your D.D.D. with ya back in the human world, I was the one with took it the worst... I grew tired of Lucifer tellin' me to be patient and wait for a replacement to get to ya, and I kinda ran to Lord Diavolo and ended up throwing a hissy fit in the middle of the throne room. Barbatos didn't like it, and neither did Lucifer. I still don't know why, but Lucifer didn't strung me from the ceiling on that day. Actually, he's mostly been yelling at us more than punishing. But I guess it doesn't really matter, since the others went all back on ganging up on me for any mistake I make."

Just as Mammon finally brought the rest of the waffle into his mouth in the hopes of not breaking up into a groaning mess, MC could swear they felt their heart sink within them. It sounded exactly like what Mammon had said. The brothers had all gone back to their old ways, with Mammon ending up as the punching bag once again. And all because they weren't around anymore?

"I'm... I'm sorry." Their throat tightened, a sense of guilt starting to wash over them. "If I knew you guys were having it this bad, I'd- I should have been way more insistent with Solomon, I should have kept asking to see you more than I did when-"

"Wha- No no, hey, it's not your fault!" Mammon exclaimed, panic settling in as MC started taking the blame on themself. "I mean, no one coulda thought that you'd be gone for this long... And that we'd be all negative for not being able to call you and stuff..."

Mammon passed a hand over his neck, the other covering MC's fist with its warmth. His eyes drifted to the side.

"We just... ya know. Grew used to havin' ya around. Guess it messed up our heads pretty good, and in the end, hatin' on each other seemed like the only solution to keep us busy.... I think."

MC's stomach churned uncomfortably as they sat there silently, slowly processing Mammon's words. What they wouldn't give to have sensed sooner that the brothers were also out of the loop in this situation, and ask Solomon for answers in the first few weeks after being back in the human world with him. How could they have been so passive about this? How could they have been so blind?

"MC."

Mammon's voice pulled them out of their thoughts, as they raised their eyes back onto him. "Huh?"

"What did Solomon say? About you not being able to see us?"

"Hum..." Their brain replayed the fuzzy memories of what happened two months earlier.

"Well, you remember how we all said our goodbyes to each other before I left the Devildom? It was in the student's council meeting room, like usual. But Diavolo had said that I would need to fill some papers before entering the portal, so I guess since we all were used to saying goodbye like this by now, we didn't really see the harm in having you brothers all leave the room before I entered the portal."

They instinctively bit the corner of their bottom lip. "Which left me, Barbatos and Diavolo in the room. Diavolo said something about needing my D.D.D. to replace it with an upgraded version, which I thought was weird at the time since Karasu had always warned me when it needed repairs or to update an app. But I trusted Diavolo, so I gave it to him, and he said I should receive the new one shortly through Solomon. After that, I got into the portal, but never received the phone, and Solomon started saying all these excuses..."

"What excuses?" Mammon asked, pressing on the matter out of curiosity, but mostly because of the bubbling rage that was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

"At first he explained that the new D.D.D. took some time to be shipped to Lord Diavolo, but-- it's Lord Diavolo, the literal demon prince. He knows how much I like to communicate with all of you while I'm up there, so I couldn't understand why he simply couldn't ask for the shipping to go a bit faster?" MC started moving their free hand around as they continued to explain their version of the story. "Then Solomon suddenly switched from the phone taking time to be shipped to... saying that the Devildom was dealing with some dangerous threat that came out of nowhere, and that I needed to stay away until the matter was dealt with. But in the end it just... made me want to know if you guys were okay even more..."

Neither Mammon nor MC had realized, nor heard, that a crack had begun to form under Mammon's firm grip on the edge of the table. The more he learned how many lies had been thrown in their face by the wizard, the more pressure Mammon was putting on his closed teeth. He couldn't believe Solomon had told them that they were in danger, when absolutely nothing eventful had happened during their absence. What was wrong with this guy, Lord Diavolo and Lucifer? The demon searched in his mind again and again, why his older brother would make up such an alliance with Solomon, especially to keep MC at bay- wasn't he supposed to care for them, too?

"I've heard enough." He hissed, the wood cracking even more under his palm. "Once I know what the fuck is going on with those two, I'm bringing you back home."

"Wait-" MC exclaimed, panic in their voice. "I-It has to be for a reason, right? That your story and mine aren't the same? I just- I don't understand why Diavolo and Lucifer would lie to me so that I stay in the human world, especially when they were acting like usual before I left."

"Reason or not, I don't fucking care. Shouldn't they have at least let us know if something was up?" Mammon's hands retrieved from both the table and MC's, the demon grasping the fabric of his pants harshly as he shook his head in disbelief. "Think about it, MC. If they all made up a bunch of lies so that we wouldn't be able to contact you, then it means that you're involved in this. Whatever problem it is they're hiding, they should tell you what it is, and not straight up throw you away in the human world as if neither you or ME would care about it."

The demon let out a frustrated groan as his eyes closed firmly, Mammon not understanding anything of the situation. If he and MC wanted answers, it would require to go back to either Solomon or Lucifer, but either of those options weren't at the top of his priorities right now. All he wanted at the moment, was to make sure that MC would remain safe, if they indeed were at the center of all this. He didn't want to lose them again. Two months of radio silence had already been hard enough. No, now, he would remain with them at all times. No matter if the obstacles ended up being a wizard, the demon prince, or his literal older brother.

MC's arms wrapping around his shoulders pulled him out of his dark thoughts. He opened his eyes, feeling them sitting on his lap as they hid their face into his neck. Their embrace was strong, but at the same time, gentle and comforting. He instantly felt himself melt in his seat. Slowly, his shoulders dropped, and his arms circled the human he loved the most.

"I swear it." He muttered, looking into the empty space behind them. "I'll bring you back to the house. Everyone's missing you, and... I miss you, too."

MC nodded against his neck. "I'd love that. I miss the others. I miss my room there. And you always barging in without notice."

"O-Oh, yeah, about that-" Mammon pulled them slightly away by the shoulders so he could face them. "I kinda forgot to tell ya, but... when you weren't here, I sorta felt really alone, having to sleep in my room without you around, so... uh, what I mean is that- I kinda brought most of my stuff in your-"

The demon's sentence was cut short by the melody of a ringtone at the other end of the table. Mammon looked instantly at MC's phone, arching an eyebrow both for being interrupted, but also wondering who could be calling them on their human phone at this hour.

"Ah- it's probably Solomon. He was supposed to come visit yesterday, but postponed it to today instead." MC said, not without a hint of disappointment in their voice as they got up from Mammon's lap to go grab their phone.

Mammon growled, already preparing himself mentally for possibly having the occasion to yell at the wizard for all the mess he caused, but his plan was immediately stopped by MC, who had put a finger on their lips. While Mammon started pouting, MC pressed the sleep button on the side of the phone, but opened their eyes wide as the name of the caller was written in what seemed like... the Devildom's language.

"It's- not Solomon?"

Their thumb swapped over the Accept button, and just as they placed the phone over their ear and were about to ask who it was, a voice, way too familiar to them, answered first.

"M-MC.. ?" The broken sobs mixed with the voice of none other than Leviathan, almost made MC forget how to breathe. "Aahh, I'm so glad... I-I wasn't sure if- sniffle..."

"Levi?" MC clasped their other hand over the phone, alerted by the state of the demon on the other side of the line. Behind them, Mammon practically jumped out of his seat.

"Levi?! Put him on speaker!"

MC obeyed him, quickly turning the speaker on and putting the phone in-between the two of them. The third-born's voice could now be heard in the entire room, as his desperate cries continued.

"Yo, Levi, why are you crying?! And how did you figure out how to call MC's phone?!" Mammon shouted, before approaching the phone to listen more closely. "Hey, is that Asmo I'm hearin'? Is he with you? What's happening??"

"Mammon... we were so worried- that you wouldn't find them..." Levi continued, as several people could be heard in the background, seemingly arguing with each other. "I tried really hard you know... I'm so, so sorry MC... I really tried... Please, please forgive me, I tried..."

"T-Tried? Wha- What did you try, Levi?" MC asked nervously, a knot starting to form in their throat. But the only answer they received from Leviathan, was a louder sob, soon followed by muffled cries as if the demon had stuffed his face into a pillow.

"Here- Levi, I'll talk to them." Another voice replaced Levi's, this one more composed in its tone. It increased in volume as the owner brought the phone closer to their face. "MC, Mammon? Are you still there?"

"Satan..." MC whispered, a hand placed over their chest. It had been so long since they had heard either of the other demons' voices.

"Hey, Satan, what's wrong with Levi?! I keep hearin' the others talking behind you too! I leave you guys for one day and already one of you is bawling his eyes out?!" Mammon asked urgently, obvious worry in his voice for his brother. As if the whole trip to the human world hadn't already been anxiety inducing, now something had happened within the House of Lamentation, and he wasn't there to check up on them.

On the other side of the phone, Satan clicked his tongue.

"After helping you find MC's location, Levi spent hours learning how to call a human phone with a demon one... literal hours. I'm glad it worked." He paused. "Everything would have turned out alright, if only it hadn't been for him."

While MC blinked in confusion, Mammon's breath was caught in his throat. His face turned pale, and his brow furrowed even more as the realization of what the fourth-born was trying to tell him washed over him.

"Wait... Don't tell me-"

"He's gone way too far this time." Satan hissed. Behind him, the voices of the other brothers turned quieter, the blonde demon moving away from them. "You have to leave wherever you are. While you didn't know where MC was, Mammon, I'm not doubting that he does. I don't know why he's acting the way he is but... I'm worried about MC. Mammon, you have to get them away from him."

"Wait, Satan, are you talking about-"

Two dry knocks came from the entrance door, and MC immediately shut themself up, quickly pressing the speaker off. Flipping their head alongside Mammon's towards the sound, the two's breaths turned slow and their bodies immobile, like deers caught in headlights. Neither of them dared make a sound, nor move a muscle, their eyes glued to the wood of the door as they waited for additional knocks, which never came.

Instead, after a silence that seemed to last forever, with only the now small voice of Satan hurriedly asking them from the phone if they were alright, a hue began emanating on the door. A red circle, shining a light that resembled a laser's glow, drew in the center. Several patterns followed and appeared within it, and before MC could take a step towards it, as they finally understood who was on the other side, Mammon's body immediately blocked them from advancing.

"Mammon-"

The demon raised an arm out, preventing MC from moving further away from the table. The human didn't have to see his face to know that he was preparing himself for anything- his tensed body in front of them spoke for himself.

His inner thoughts from a few minutes ago resurfaced in a flash upon sensing MC's hand on his back. No more separation. He had to protect them- stay with them. No matter the obstacle.

Even if this obstacle, turned out to be his own older brother.

"He's here."

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