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gingerale2017 · 1 month

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Toothbrush

Fluff <333 Words: 2k Pairing: Cinder Linh x Kai Fandom: The Lunar Chronicles Setting: Around a couple months Warnings: None that I know of Ao3 Link

Someone could tell Cinder her nerves were all fried and dead and she would believe them. In fact she was surprised they were still functioning because they felt like they were on fire.

She sucked in a breath before she forgot to but it was shaky. She mentally cursed. Considering how close her and Kai’s bodies were, she was certain he heard the wobbly sound.

They decided (meaning Kai dragged a willing Cinder) to dance with each other late in the night in Kai’s room, despite the Peace Ball being three nights ago, an event where she was actually forced to dance. Kai might have said they were dancing tonight but no one could call this dancing. Instead their bodies were so close together that would surely mold together soon as they swayed.

She kept her eyes low and focused on the button on his chest. She felt as if her whole body was in turmoil. Perhaps, if she didn’t look at I’m she won’t screw up. Kai, being so close, could probably feel the erratic speed of her heart and her failed attempts to control her breathing. She was also 95% sure her hand was shaking while he held it.

Kai, however, seemed perfectly calm, an emotion she envied very deeply in this moment. Perhaps he was lost in thought. Perhaps he was bored. Considering her lack of dancing skills, she reckoned he probably had enough with her.

He sighed suddenly, as if he were reading her thoughts, and the hand on her waist dug deeper into her back. He let go of their interlocked hands and guided hers to his neck. She gulped. He got impossibly closer as their chests met and their legs touched.

“Cinder, my love, you don’t have to feel so tense,” he murmured, speaking for only the third time this night. They haven’t been very talkative, and for good reason. This proximity messed with her ability to breathe, how could she even dare to speak?

“Tense? I’m relaxed.” She lied.

“Then look at me while we dance. I promise you won’t have to lie when you say that.”

Oh no. She had to resist his gaze.

Cinder chuckled awkwardly. “You talk as if your eyes are some magical item and can cure any disease whenever someone looks into them.” She said, still refusing to meet his eyes. She feared would melt or at least explode her brain.

Kai sighed again. “Darling.” he murmured, almost like he was chiding her. His hand travelled up her body in parallel to his whispers. She felt sparks from his trail, never pulling away, making her shiver. He reached her chin and tilted it up to his face. Oh no.

Their eyes finally met and her skin erupted in goosebumps. Kai’s eyes never failed to make her knees weak. A romantic copper that lit up brighter than anything else in is room. What was once the sight she failed to avoid was now the only thing she could look at. She couldn’t look away if she tried.

It was hard to believe Cinder had managed to date the Emperor if the Eastern Commonwealth, but if anyone could, it would be the Queen of Luna.

His fingers on her chin moved to caress her cheek. His touch was definitely one of the best things she experienced with him. Her stomach did repetitive somersaults yet it did not bother her. Instead, it excited her, warming her up in the best ways. He moved his hand back to her waist.

“Shall we start again?” he said, already starting to sway. She nodded.

She felt the grip of his hands on her waist the most. In fact, she was sure he was holding her hips now. He tried guiding her back and forth but she could barely think. His eyes muddled her thoughts. She kept messing up the footwork but he reassured her with a knowing smile.

The room started to get stuffy and hot real fast. Why’d she wear long sleeves anyway? With sweatpants? In this warm climate?

Back and forth. Side to side. Cinder forced herself to pay attention so she didn’t make a fool out of herself. Her breath came in short breaths that she worked hard conceal. But it was hard to focus when they maintained this kind of eye contact. It was intense and a little frightening, but soon enough Cinder reveled in it.

The atmosphere shifted so quick that she almost didn’t notice. Like it was almost… natural. Suddenly there was less observing and more doing. He would slowly drag his hands from her waist to her chest while drawing circles with his fingers. Her own fingers began entangled themselves in his hair, though it was different from her habitual curling. More pulling instead. They seemed to do this on their own. His eyes darkened with something she couldn’t recognize. It made her want to do something. Cinder’s hands dug deeper into his hair, hugging his face closer to hers. She could feel his breath tickle her mouth.

Warnings popped in her head. Thoughts we're impossible to form. Her eyes trailed to his mouth, carved elegantly on his face, and lips she wanted to kiss. Badly.

She looked up at him to find that he was starting at her lips which slightly parted at the discovery. He licked his own and started to lean in.

They met in the middle with a slow, enjoyable kiss that gradually got more passionate. Soon enough she was pulling at his hair, desperately kissing him without any thought of stopping. He pushed her back until she hit the wall. One of his hands grabbed her cheek while the other explored her lower body.

Kai left her mouth and started again on her throat, sowing kisses up and down on it. She gasped when he reached her collarbone, again when he squeezed her hip, and again when he returned to her lips. Cinder wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling more than content with his actions.

They slowed down a bit until they remembered air existed, panting extensively. His forehead bunched with hers and their lips illustrated matching flimsy smiles.

“I wasn’t expecting that.” She confessed. Truly, she was surprised, but now that she thought about all the signs he’d been giving she should have at least anticipated it. The right space, the forced warmer climate, the crimson on his cheeks, her mind recalled all of it and truly she should have known better.

“Me neither. I’m not disappointed though.” He gave her a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Neither am I.” A peck on the cheek.

“Can you ditch the guest room and sleep with your dance partner tonight?” Kai asked. He gave her his signature puppy dog eyes and double downed with a kiss on her jaw.

Cinder sighed. “I hope so, but I have to get my stuff. I always want to, you know.”

A kiss on her other cheek. He was starting to pick it up again, as if he was saying ‘all right, break over, time for part two, let’s go, let’s go!’.

“I know.” Kai barely grunted out, too preoccupied with sparking kisses on her neck. Cinder felt him care for the kisses he planted with careful detail before. He’d turn her neck into a rose garden soon enough and pick out her own flowers to give to her every morning. She subconsciously threw her head to give him more space. Her body obviously reacted kindly to his advancements. She never knew the lack of control she had over her body, or rather, the amount of control Kai had over hers. It was almost traitorous if she didn’t enjoy it.

“Kai, I have to get my toothbrush.” No response. He must’ve not heard her. Now paying attention to the signs, she realized he was lost in a passionate cloud.

He tried to push her even further on the wall that Cinder almost caved in. She decided she needed to put a stop to his activity before it went too far. Or, at least before he reached her lips because then she was confident she wouldn’t be able to control the consequences then.

Placing her palms firmly on his shoulders, she pushed gently until he realized what she was doing. His brow furrowed in confusion, then his eyes lost a little of its hungered haze. His face transitioned apologetically. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.” He straightened up. “So, will you spend the night with me, a handsome, charming, funny young emperor or in your dusty, unattractive, boyfriend-less room?”

She gave a dry laugh. “I already said yes but I need to get my toothbrush.”

He cocked his head. “At this point, just leave it here.”

“Well I need that among other things.”

“But it’s on a whole other floor!” He whined. Cinder held back a chuckle. He was unbearably cute when he couldn’t bear to be alone. “Borrow mine if you have to!” She forgot how desperate he gets. The best ego boost ever.

“I’ll be quick.” This time she made a move and pecked him on the nose. He tried to glare but his ears reddened. “I promise.”

She left her spoiled Emperor before he could complain about her absence and practically ran to her room to collect all her things. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she could bear to be alone again either. After so much of Kai, she could barely imagine virtually none of Kai.

The Dark Days. They have been erraticated from her mind with no explanation. She wasn’t complaining.

Soon enough she was in front of Kai’s door with brushed teeth and fresh clothes.

When he opened the door he looked her up and down, lingering at certain moments, and raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget your toothbrush.”

“Uh, no, it’s in the bag.” She lifted a small tote bag that he was too blind to notice.

“You can always use mine.” He repeated. “It’s the same as kissing.”

“I can assure that it is not the same as kissing, and are the cause of many diseases.”

“Such as?”

She snorted. “Delusion. Which you don’t need more of.” She let herself in, forcing her way through Kai.

“Hey!” he countered. “On what grounds am I delusional?”

Sighing, she plopped herself on his bed. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that after I rejected to go to the ball with and you still persisted in asking me.”

“Well it worked out in the end, didn’t it?” Kai walked towards her in a very slow pace, as if he were executing some scheme.

“A revolution and a failed marriage later, it did.”

He reached the foot of the bed and crept on next to her as his goal. She gulped, a feeling of anticipation rose in her chest. “At least you’re here with me.” He inched closer until he was properly on top of her. “Safe.” He murmured, nearing her mouth. “Healthy.”

He suddenly grabbed her body, shocking her and inciting a surprised gasp. They flipped positions so that she was now on top of him. “And in my arms.”

A giddy and satisfied smile appeared on his face. She had the sudden need to wipe it off his face with her lips. More warnings lit up her vision and she blinked it away, along with the desirous thoughts. But they always lingered, like a short breath on a cold morning.

She didn’t know what to do with her arms, or her legs, or her waist. She was very much a ragdoll at this point and she wouldn’t have complained if Kai treated her as such. The only thing she could control was her head as it hovered over his. She had a feeling that if she didn’t kiss him, he would.

So she did. Slowly, tenderly, and mindfully. Her hands fired up again and found new places to trace on his chest. One of his hands got caught up in her hair while the other gradually palmed the skin of her waist. Cinder might’ve made a noise or two because Kai abruptly flipped them over again.

There was a ‘hmpth’ from one of them, she didn’t know who nor cared, and once again the kiss turned passionate. He pressed his body against her as the hand on her back slid up her shirt. He returned to her neck as her hands pulled on his pajama shirt. She felt repetitive and slightly painful tugs on her scalp as he tried to make more space for his mouth. It was more enjoyable than expected.

“Stars,” He muttered. She thought she imagined it until he kept going. “I love your neck.”

The words shocked her, even in that hungered haze. It made want to do something, to want more. She groaned as her hand grabbed his jaw and pushed it up until their lips met. She kissed him with a new type of craving, with the same type of desire from earlier. This is time she didn’t suppress it. Her metal hand slipped underneath his shirt and rubbed his back, while her fleshed one tugged his hair in a frenzy. More gasps and small noises were let out. Every time she heard her name escape his lips she would respond by kissing him on the sensitive part of his neck where she’d get more response out of. It gave her more drive to feel and peck his skin, to kiss and suck his lips, to whisper and murmur his name. Her heart pounding in her chest made it all the more intense, and even more so when she could feel his.

The more she thought about them, the more Cinder wanted to smile. While her lips were practically hovering over his ear, she couldn’t help but grin, then laughter spilled out. She dug her head into the crook of his neck, trying, and failing, to stop herself.

He pulled away so they met eye to eye. How he got underneath her, she couldn’t remember, but, stars, he was gorgeous in this angle. And his shirt was practically undone so her eyes couldn’t help but linger. She felt his soft fingers draw circles on the small of her back as he grinned up at her.

“What’s so funny, my love?” Kai asked. His voice was rough and lips plump from kissing for so long. It was surprisingly attractive. Well, it shouldn’t be surprising because almost everything about Kai is attractive, especially to her.

“I don’t know. I just felt like laughing.” She let out another giggle. “I feel so…” She paused, searching for the right word.

“Happy? Joyful? Bliss?” He offered.

“Euphoric.” She smiled, kissing his nose. She rather liked his nose, as she did his neck, and his face, and oh-so-mangificent eyes, and his elegant hands, and his intelligent voice, and his lips, oh stars his lips! She adored his lips, and how they felt against hers. Especially how they felt against hers.

Her gaze paused at the swollen sight, trying her best to swallow the urge to devour them again. Just how plump could they get anyway?

Kai had other plans. He grinned like an amazed artist satisfied with his work. He brought his hands to either sides of her bare hips, making her heart jump in excitement, and laid her down next to him.

Their eyes met for the thousandth time that night but in this moment she saw stars, galaxies, and universes of wonder in his.

“Kai?” She murmured, breaking the silence.

“Yes, my love?”

“I think I’m going to sleep here tonight.”

He smiled, eyes tinkling at the joke. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, my love.”

He pulled her close so they could fold on each other, limbs intertwining with limbs. She smiled as her cheek pressed to her chest. His leg rested on her hip and his hand played with her locks.

Not very long after, their hearts matched each other’s beats and they fell into a long and comfortable sleep.

A/N: So here's that one make out pic I promised to post... Whatever. Hope you like :D Tell me if you no like D:

Tagging: @just2bubbly @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @the-wee-woo-royal @deprivedmusicaljunkie @crescentchat @notjacinclay @wheresmymom-imlost @salt-warrior @rapunzelfromthemoon @briggycat @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp @definitelynotisabel @wassupnye (these are for my kaider ONLY fics so please ask if you want to be tagged or removed <3)

#tlc #the lunar chronicles #kaider #lunar chronicles #linh cinder #emperor kai #kaider fic #kaider fanfiction #tlc fic #tlc fanfiction #prince kai #marissa meyer #yipee

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zgvlt · 2 years

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i blow out the candles in front of my wish leona kingscholar x reader

summary: your birthday greeting stuns him

author's note: the shortest fic i have ever written, but i still put my heart (and love for leona) into this. it's still his birthday in some timezone out there so i dare say i'm not late. happy birthday to the best man <3

tags: gender-neutral reader, sfw, fluff, some introspection, very light angst, established relationship, 1.3k+ words, not beta read

[repost attempt #1 since it's not appearing in the tags]

“Thank you for being born.”

Leona is twenty-one the first time he hears those words. It’s softly murmured in his ear, almost as if you had not wanted anyone to hear, as if the words were reserved for him and him alone, as if anything louder would signal everyone awake and disturb his room’s sanctity. Perhaps that was your intention—the need to be quiet not forgotten in your determination to be the one who greets him first and foremost.

Even your entrance into his room is near silent, and any quieter would have rendered your sudden appearance an apparition. You waltz in with the heels of your feet raised, walk with the tips of your toes, like you fear waking him. It is a reasonable fear to have—after all, it is said that to wake a sleeping lion would be to get your head bitten off—but all the same it is a fear that would not come to fruition, for on the bed laid no sleeping lion.

It is said that people never sleep well the night of their birthdays. He has always been the prime example.

Leona, as of late, is a creature haunted by the sin of sloth, a state not only of the mind but through the manifestation of slumber; yet tonight he lies, the irony of his idleness being that which keeps him awake. At times, his indolence extended to his thoughts—even to think was a tiring affair, one encouraging melancholia to creep up and consume him—and although Leona knows to shatter them to dust, there are times when he… invites them in.

No, not quite invite—Leona was not the type to welcome something so pitiful into his life. Rather, it would be more accurate to say he allowed them to fester, not quite to invade but to share his space.

Him and his thoughts. They always reunite the same night, every year. They converse amongst themselves and Leona listens, passive and uninterested. Bored, even, with how repetitive and predictable they have gotten—and yet despite it all he listens, and it is because he is busy listening to them that he very nearly fails to hear you, you and your insistence to be quiet.

However, the quiet does not stop him from being startled; while you might have thought you had woken him, as evidenced by the flurry of uncomposed and yet mindfully gentle apologies spewing from your mouth, the truth would tell that it was your unusual greeting that jolted him upright, has him stunned at the admission.

A surprise he anticipated, a surprise he’d been given.

“Oi… herbivore, repeat that again.”

You take the time to look at your phone, frowning at how time’s already passed a minute from midnight, and though the light comes flashing quick the action is just slow enough to recognize the photo you’ve set as your lock screen.

“I don’t know if it has the same effect twice,” you sigh like you’re voicing a complaint, but Leona knows you’ll say it once more, carrying the same feelings as the first time.

“Thank you for being born, Leona.”

You say it like a secret, though your feelings hardly are.

“Well?”

“Well,” he begins, and speaks only to let you know your efforts have not been wasted, “the effect is the same the second time.”

The statement is just as ridiculous as the first time, he had planned to say, yet when he tried to voice it out his lips closed shut, as if his body knew it would be a bad idea, as though it knew it would not be the truth. Ridiculous would not be the right word, although he did want to laugh hearing it the first time. If he had to describe it…

Leona closes his eyes, but this time you know he has no plans on sleeping. Instead, you allow him to steep in the silence, as if to let him analyze each and every word you utter, from weight to worth.

Is the day of his birth worth being celebrated? His family—that overly kind brother of his, his pesky sister-in-law, his nephew who cannot get enough of his attention—he gets why they would want to celebrate, although he thinks they’re always going off the rails with their presents, but to an outsider?

Even then, Leona at least understands why he is celebrated anyway, both from a national perspective and from that of the Savanaclaw dorm members. Worth differs from want, but there is nothing wrong with wanting to celebrate someone with a degree of importance. A celebration is something even he can appreciate—thoughtful presents and fine intentions, all for him—but it is something everyone can benefit from. To have a happy birthday is an excuse to fool around, not just for him but for all who come.

Like how it is different to be of worth and to want, it is different to be happy and to be thankful. Happiness is a result, an infectious one, and gratitude… it is to recognize, acknowledge, and appreciate—in this case, to go through all three stages with him.

You spoke as if you were beholden to his parents for having given life to someone like him, as if you were grateful to life itself for putting the both of you on the same plane of existence.

With his eyes still closed he reaches for your hand, and it takes not even a few seconds for him to grab onto it—no need to search when it is you who finishes the motion, realizing what he was looking for was you.

“I’m still here.”

He knows—he would have sensed it if you left, though he did not think you would.

You know not to leave his side, instead choosing to sit at the edge of the mattress—perhaps for permission to join him, or more likely because you knew once he dragged you down with him that was it for you. The students of Savanaclaw will come to wake him in the morning to take him to his own party, only to see someone else had taken residence beside him the eve of.

“Herbivore.” Leona does not always call you that, a nickname that had never been reserved exclusively for you, has always been more for fleeting instances of teasing, of spite, but tonight he says it to distance himself, to mask not his affections, but the extent of it.

His eyes remain closed, too, for he knows you would see how such a simple greeting had made him feel. You would take one look and see how he had built a cave in his heart, hollowed it in your shape, so when you laid down upon it your figure would be encompassed by his valves and his veins.

“Tch. Sometimes, I…”

Wish I had met you sooner.

Wish I could understand what goes on in that beautiful mind of yours.

Wish everyone saw me like you see me.

Wish I saw me like you see me.

“...wish I understood what exactly you think of me.”

He can feel your breath nearing him again. Leona dislikes the warmth, the unpleasant reminiscence of restrictiveness, but he welcomes that which emanates from you. He welcomes it so that he very nearly opens his eyes, only choosing to keep it shut when you whisper once more.

“Then, for the next three hundred and sixty-four days, I’ll have to make you understand,” you promise, before moving your mouth to press your lips against his cheek, “and on the three hundred and sixty-fifth, you will believe it as much as me.”

He understands how it’s not just a promise, but an oath made before him, where he is the recipient and the witness.

“You really do have guts, making such bold promises like that.”

He finally opens his eyes and thinks he may already be starting to believe it.

my other leona fic

masterlist

#leona kingscholar x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland x reader #nathya twst writing #pls work tags i want to go to sleep hjsjsjsd

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windylandscape · 7 months

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RANKING & REVIEWING EVERY RADIOHEAD ALBUM

Hai all, over the next couple weeks or so ill be listening to, ranking, and reviewing every full length lp from english art/experimental rock band, radiohead! (in chronological order)

was inspired to do this by my friend @panmanxd, whos doing a similar thing w/ weezer albums!

starting with.

1 - Pablo Honey (1993)

releasing in early 1993, their debut album Pablo Honey received massive commercial success, being certified triple platinum in the UK in 2013. the albums reception was very mixed however, being nowhere near as acclaimed as what the band would go on to make. it was/is considered by many (including myself) to have a couple good songs, but to be massively dragged down by its many filler tracks. additionally, the album adopted sounds of early 90s grunge, which lead to comparisons to bands such as Nirvana.

Onto the actual content of pablo honey, the album starts with the fantastic opener, You. the guitars on this track are great (especially the part around 2 minutes in), and are complimented by whats probably the only good mixing on this album. very listenable, and feels more like what theyd go on to make on their next album, The Bends.

you follows into the lead single, Creep. To the dismay of the band, this song became a massive hit, ending up becoming their biggest single by far, and going on to haunt them throughout their careers. the songs composition is fairly simple, with the catchy melodies, Thom's powerful vocal performance, and the booming guitars really taking the stage here. the songs pretty bland despite all this though. i should also mention just how loud the drums are, too, especially during the verses. i dont hate this song nearly as much as radiohead themsevles did back in the mid-late 90s though, with Thom telling listeners who asked for creep to fuck off, and calling them "anally retarded" 😭

so far the albums pretty solid, especially considering how inexperienced the band was at this point. however, the couple songs after this make up whats probably the worst 3 track run in any radiohead album, ever. starting with How Do You, this track suffers from a bad vocal performance, extremely messy sounding guitars & production, while also feeling extremely bland ontop of that. feels SO much longer than its short 2 minutes run time. next up is the extremely long and boring Stop Whispering, which warrants absolutely none of its 5 minute run time. last out of these 3 songs is Thinking About You, which is again very boring. thankfully, its nowhere near as long as the track which precedes it, though.

after these couple of songs though is Anyone Can Play Guitar, which is a nice breath of fresh air. while its not amazing by any means, ill give it credit for being sonically speaking one of the more interesting songs off this album, with the purposefully messy intro and tasteful use of distorted guitars during the verses (sadly, this song doesnt mark the end of boring filler tracks off this album). the next track is Ripcord, which is just alright. while this song has a terrible start, it gets much better as it goes on, especially in the last minute or so.

next song is Vegetable, which is pretty decent. its not very interesting, but it has a pretty nice energy to it. theres also a cool guitar solo near the end. definitely not unlistenable. the next song however, Prove Yourself, is fucking awful. boring verses, and an extremely repetitive and almost grating(?) chorus. trash.

after this is I Cant, which is one of the better songs off the album. similar to anyone can play guitar, its use of guitars is fairly tasteful. this song is probably the best attempt at an emotional song off this album, with the exception of creep. dont really have much to say about the next song, Lurgee. while, theres not a whole lot going on with this track, its at least not offensively bad. just kind of a nothing burger.

the next and final song off pablo honey is Blow Out, which ties with you as my favorite song on the album. the clean guitars in the intro to this song for whatever reason reminds me of Knives Out, it really feels to me like it could be amnesiac era. i also really like the climactic ending, with the guitars that feel like theyre almost rising. its a very nice end to the album.

in conclusion, while theres some good songs here and there, the boring and filler tracks on pablo honey personally make the album as a whole a negative experience to listen to. radioheads inexperience definitely shows on this album. it definitely doesnt compare to what theyd make on their next album, let alone the rest of their discography.

Fav tracks: You, Blow Out, Creep

Least fav tracks: Prove Yourself, How Do You, Stop Whispering

FINAL RANKING: D tier, its really not that good.

#radiohead #pablo honey #music #review #:3 #:3c #this ended up being so long LOL hope it was somewhat of a fun read #effortpost

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years

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New Plan

(Ch.3 of Yandere Family)

Mom, it's cold in here."

"What? Oh..yeah...Do you have your earmuffs? Put them on."

She walked into the rink tightly gripping Yulia's hand. She was tasking herself with making a good impression on Mrs. Appleworth and taking her daughter to the skate-practice was the best shot.

Remalda attempted to be indifferent as she watched her daughter skate. Focus! Focus! No use getting caught up in the means. But as she took a quick side glance at the woman in question she was too busy typing away on her phone to even notice her own son waving and doing tricks.

Remalda tiredly sighed before looking at her daughter. Yulia was being followed along by her teacher, gliding along the ice with her arms out. When she saw this little girl on the ice she felt something of a beat in her heart. It was like her eyes were glued not to a child who was only playfully skating but to a trained dancer on the ice. From then on Remalda would religiously bring her daughter to skating practice even paying for extra skate lessons. All under the excuse of it being to persuade Mrs. Appleworth but really she just couldn't get over how her heart leaped like she had fallen in love again. She refused to tell her husband in fear that he would be jealous. He was not.

But she could do nothing when a teacher's meeting would call her in during the weekend class. Spencer and Michael would see how much of a prodigy Yulia was on ice and like her mother fall in love with his daughter/sister shining on the ice. During a final rehearsal what they had hoped for finally came to pass. Not only was their daughter lined up for a solo but the Matriarch of the Appleworth name herself complimented Remalda. More accurately her kids but nonetheless an invite to tea was rewarded. While the mothers were talking so were their sons.

"Hi!"

Michael ignored whoever was speaking in favor for his passing hobby of designing. What? He was bored. He opted instead of wasting time mingling while the skaters went to change, to give a fashion designer 'friend' some tips. He had 'hired' them to make an outfit for Yulia's first regional competition. Above all else he wanted to make sure it was perfect for her; both to make her happy and to show her off properly.

"Hi."

He tried to keep ignoring this nuisance but when the 'hi's' were slowly becoming more more repetitive he caved.

"What?"

"I like your hair and your eyes!"

"Thanks."

"...Can we be friends?"

"No."

"My name's Victor, I heard your mommy call you Mikey is your name Michael?"

"...yes..."

Michael was kind of freaked out; this kid with a constant smile was pursuing him despite him explicitly saying he didn't want his company.

"Victor! Where'd you go? We have to rehearse," called the instructor from on the ice. The purple-haired boy hugged Michael before running down the rafters.

"Bye Michael, I'll see you tomorrow."

#yandere family #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere harem #platonic yandere #yandere ocs #yandere oc #yandere mother #yandere father #baby reader

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lemurious · 8 months

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Forgetting

(in memory of my grandmother-in-law slowly slipping into forgetting now, and my own grandmother having done the same a few years ago...)

You start with dates. The wedding anniversary’s the first you notice disappear, Then birthdays, first dates, funerals, Proposals, Christmasses and Easters. Who knows on which day Easter falls each year?

You think of spring, of chocolates and meadows, of births and graduations, (Your children’s birthdays, how could you not remember? Do you remember having children?)

You are not so sure. Too used to memory that is a team sport.

As in, you know the time when? As in, but you remember? Not then, before, of course, I think it was the spring, the skies so blue, and so much sunshine.

It needed both of you, or jumbled pieces would never form a puzzle. A game of snakes and ladders, but ladder rungs are missing, and snakes are fat with swallowing your days, one by a juicy one.

Your favorites go next. The favorites of true importance: cereal with milk or yogurt? What kind of toothpaste? The one that whitens or just amps up the shine?

When was the last time when you bought each other flowers?

(Now, only succulents. For they can be forgotten, for a while.)

Your future plans will follow suit. You’ve always wanted to repaint the kitchen, to start a garden, To make a shopping list. To cook, to eat, to say that by the grace of God, we are…

(The words of grace have been forgotten long ago, somewhere between festivities and names of nephews).

The pleasantries will leave you afterwards. The thankyous and the pleases, welcomes and farewells, The pet names, though you’ve never liked them anyway, and will consider them good riddance.

The loveyous on the phone, squeezed to a single word. The sorries when we failed despite our best attempts, The minor squabbles, the anger and frustration. (With time, they’ll be forgotten too. And you will miss them just as much as joy.)

So much is left.

So much is left to be forgotten still.

The squeeze of hands while watching television. The hug goodbye, as many times a day as one of you was leaving. The scars that mark your old adventures and the ones that never healed. The trinkets that should have disappeared in the beginning, but stubbornly held out unto the last. The rings, the photographs. The ribbons and the paintings. The recipes. The wedding cards, now stashed in cupboards, stained with grime.

(So are the memories).

When all is gone, what will be left? The kind of love that never followed the instructions, not even those that are engraved with such precision in the stone.

In peace, it’s written.

They tell you, he rests in peace, and shake their heads, impatient with the repetition, with the reminder you require every day.

(And you, what peace is there for you?)

It would be easiest to stay in utter silence (of the grave, you do not add, it would be impolite.)

You do not speak.

Because the words themselves will be forgotten, in the end, like pebbles falling through the fingers.

(But do not worry: you may forget, but he remembers. The afterlife is kinder.)

#lemur writes #poetry #original writing #cw death #cw memory loss #(but also hope)

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elodiethescribe · 7 months

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What I expected from the FNAF movie, based off the trailers as well as what patchwork information I know from the games, in no particular order:

(Spoilers ahead, beware!)

At least one scene recreating the first FNAF's gameplay and atmosphere, with Mike in the office watching the cameras and managing the security doors and power while the animatronics recreate their various game poses on the cameras

Vanessa turning out to secretly be the bad guy, or at least have her evil alter ego Vanny pop up

Freddy's Toreador March

Foxy's hallway run

The animatronics to the be able to move quickly and smoothly, much as they do in the games

Matthew Lillard being a fantastic Springtrap, with a lot of suspense building up to his appearance and a brutal, bloody springlock scene

For either the animatronics to terrorize Abby, or for her to befriend them in secret without Mike's knowledge

Onscreen ghost children meaning we actually get to know the kids and their personalities and even their names

For the film to either take itself completely seriously given the horror and tragedy of the game's core concept and its bleak, tense atmosphere, or for the film to pull a M3GAN and go the self-aware dark horror comedy route, leaning fully into the more campy aspect of its concept while still delivering fun scares and an attempt at a genuinely meaningful message

A Markiplier cameo, or at least a nod to "the king of Five Nights at Freddy's"

What I got instead:

Little to no recreation of the original FNAF's gameplay and atmosphere; only the opening scene, the break-in sequence, and the climax really end up "feeling" like FNAF to me, but only in vague bits and pieces

Vanessa actually being a good guy with a surprisingly sympathetic and compelling storyline, even as she suffers from bad writing such as refusing to communicate properly with Mike or still inexplicably going along with Afton's murders despite her obvious horror

Literally no Toreador March despite it being blasted all over the trailers

Foxy inexplicably teleporting down the hallway

Foxy also being the absolutely most gosh-darn adorable of the animatronics

The animatronics portrayed as stiff, slow, heavy, and downright awkward, which makes one wonder how they are fast or sneaky enough to catch and kill nightguards

Matthew Lillard being a fantastic Springtrap, who literally just pops up out of nowhere during the climax with minimal build up, and a rather tame and underwhelming springlock sequence compared to FNAF 3, but my goodness Lillard just straights up eats this role alive and is easily the best part of the film

Mike not only just straight up immediately catching Abby befriending the animatronics, with little to no fanfare from the narrative, but also having a bizarre underreaction to the whole thing, like the very next day he only mildly uncomfortably asks Abby to talk to the giant animatronics possessed by dead kids about their missing brother, as if that's in any way shape or form an actually normal conversation to have

The ghost children/animatronics' story, and the sheer horror and tragedy of it, being shoved aside in favor of Mike's obsession with finding out who abducted his brother, all taking place in boring and repetitive dream sequences in a random forest; except for the Golden Freddy child, none of the other children even speak; Mike talking to the ghost kids and getting to know them, even connecting with them over the loss of his brother (who was even taken by Afton just like them!) could have been a genuinely intriguing and emotional plot, but the narrative doesn't seem to care about the children/animatronics as characters and Mike, for some bizarre reason, doesn't even seem effected by the kids being taken just like Garrett, even when he learns they were all taken by the same man, and it all just ends up feeling completely pointless and tacked on by the film ends

(And I say all this as someone who strongly prefers the fanfic-y "sentient animatronics" over the canon "possessed animatronics")

Finally, a minimal, underwhelming plot with a tone and structure that veered all over the place, letting me feel the sweet, nostalgic feeling of reading a fanfiction written by a teenager who doesn't understand how the real, adult world works: like, why are the goons attacking during the day, the exact time when Mike wouldn't be held accountable since he's off-duty? Why isn't Mike in jail after beating up that dad at his old job? What in the world happened with Aunt Jane's body? Did no one wonder where the heck Max went? Why did Vanessa help Abby and the animatronics build that fort and then immediately threaten to shoot Mike for letting Abby befriend the animatronics? Why does Afton do literally anything he does, especially with the big change-up to the Afton family dynamic? Why does literally no one actually REACT to the fact that the animatronics are possessed and that Abby and Mike can talk to dead people?!

No Markiplier :(

Surprisingly good soundtrack

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #five nights at freddy's movie #fnaf movie

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sammys-stupid-stories · 5 months

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5th January 2024

The worst part about getting into Dr. Stone is seeing my past potential squandered.

So many of the fan comics and fics like to use tired troupes to emphasize how smart Senku or Dr. Xeno are. The main occurrence is skipping grades / graduating early. Every time I read those I'm stuck staring at myself and hating what I see because that was me once.

I used to be so fucking smart. I prided myself on being top of my class and having the best grades. I kept jumping into the hardest courses and taking AP classes. I had so much pride in my accomplishments when I was accepted into my high school's early college program. There were like, i don't remember, seven or so of us. A very low number. Only me and one other girl actually stuck with it and finished the program.

...she was the only one of us to graduate with an associates...

I keep trying to remind myself that I was subject to some seriously shitty events during that time that took me away from my studies. Away from my ambitions and any possible future plans. (Future plans I say, as if I wasn't thoroughly convinced that I was going to die as soon as I left school. That's all I had ever been good for. That's all my parents ever needed me for. Bragging rights.) It's hard not to blame it entirely on my family for causing me so much stress. I still remember the videos I made sharing my weekly life with my friend and how often I had to retake them because I would burst into tears over all the small things that piled up.

I chose working dead-end jobs over finishing the last course to complete my degree. I left college as a drop out at the end of the second year. A large chunk of that is because I was asked to walk at the spring ceremony despite not having my last credit. We all figured I'd just get the one class and be on my way at the end of the fall semester that followed. My mother made a big deal out of how it was like lying and how I didn't deserve it. How despite EVERYTHING I had done up to that point: all the tests, the classes, the essays, the awards, the perfect GPA; I was never enough.

I left home after that and some other bullshit about not deserving food if I was never home. How I felt ostracized and forgotten about and how I clung to any freedom I could get. I remember taking over-night shifts and early morning events to cater just so I could stay away from home a little longer. So I could have money to buy step-one-home-necessities for when I finally left.

I remember hiding each dollar-store purchase of cheap plastic cups and cookware in my closet hoping and praying to a deity I didn't believe in that she didn't decide to trash my room looking for reasons to yell at me. To shame and belittle the child who was never enough. I remember the fear of my food stash being discovered or worse yet, the small cut in one of my stuffed animals that hid hundreds of dollars I squirreled away for when I finally could leave.

I remember having a bad fight and an early morning in my car, cold in my car waiting in the back parking lot for classes to begin. Crying myself rotten before a unit final in French and how I blanked during the test. I remember the teacher taking me out to the hall to do the speaking portion and how she showed pitty telling me she knew I was having a hard time and that we could revisit the test later if I needed. I remember crying in my car after failing yet another math test after a different incident.

I remember sitting on the cold bathroom tiles in the middle of the night, sobbing my eyes out as I attempted to end my life...

It's easy to blame everyone and everything for abandoning academia. But now, now I have to live with the pointless existence I survive in. Retail job after retail job. Shitty apartments, bad bosses, repetitive disappointment, and a depression I have never been able to shake.

I want to try again. I want to make something of myself. I want to work towards something amazing.

I like space. I like science even if it's confusing and I can't understand it. I want something where I can observe the universe and live life under an observatory telescope. ...it's a pipe dream but I want to be an astronomer. Or even an astrophysicist. Both seem insane and impossible for the person I've become. I can't even remember names anymore thanks to how bad my depression has ruined my mind.

I want to dream a little. Shut my eyes and think about how I could be in a remote location like the arctic or maybe some unnamed desert in Nevada watching the stars and screens and taking data to send out. That's a life I might actually feel pride in.

how lame am I to take so much inspiration from a random fan comic?

#sammy's stupid stories #sammy speaks #shut up sammy #dysfunctional family #academia and the lack there of

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nickleback-fan · 1 year

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Short Story - "Tom"

Writing prompt: Write a story in which a characters position as an outsider has a major effect on the story.

Shh... Shh... Shh...

Those were the shrill sounds which I awoke to.

After a moment I stirred, and while at first disorientated, I made the attempt to examine my surroundings. The source of this strident noise which still filled my ears I soon discovered, a machine. It stood in the corner of the room, Imposing, almost evil. From it emanated innumerous tubings, each impossible to follow with the eye for more than a second - it's inconceivably tangled mass fooling my vision. An artificial diaphragm working insessently at its head, the culprit which produced the maddening drone. One of these tubes led to a mask, tightly secured to my face, undoubtedly administering some dreadful miasma, to which I owe my current state

For how long I remained in that position I cannot tell you, both mesmerised and terrified by the machine's repetitive motions. I pondered my next move, orchestrating hundreds of plans, yet I did not budge. I'm not sure what possessed me, what inspired me to finally act, but eventually i stuck out at it. It groaned - as if begging for mercy, before giving out. It was then I removed the mask, and surveyed the room. I venture out of the safety of my bedsheets and wander around the space. It is a strange place, although I cannot articulate why. It almost seemed as if it was examining me as thoroughly as I was it, peering from cracks and shadows. There was some distressing familiarity in it, while still feeling truly alien to me. I had seen many like it, it's drab walls, antiquated furnishing, giving a sense of archaic mystery to it. Despite trying my best to avoid doing so, it was at this point I accidentally caught sight of the machine once more. Menacingly, it stared back at me. Redolent of some cacodaemonic cosmic horror, tenticles reaching out in every direction; desperately searching for its next victim. This time however, I had no chance to lose myself in this vile mechanical contrivance, as I was interupted. It was then that the first rhythmic thud sounded at my door. I readied myself for what was to come.

My heart raced as the door opened. The click of the latch, squeak of the unoiled hinges, all building up to the entrance of this visitor. This suspenseful moment shattered as a rather innocuous figure came through the door. Saying nothing, giving no indication of what his intentions are apart from a short grimace towards the machine. He turns, and beckons me to follow. I obey, what choice do I have? With that, I step out into the unknown.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, from the dimly lit bedroom - it's only source of light being what little could pass through the curtains - to the blinding white LEDs of the hallway I had just set foot in. I tried to absorb as much as I could, without falling behind. This place felt unnatural. An endless passage, lined with doors identical to one another; no windows to speak of. The white linoleum floor squeaked beneath my companions feet. Air conditioning whirred, providing the soundtrack to this oppressive scene. After what felt like hours, an end was in sight. An overwhelming sense of dread filled me as we approached the end of the corridor. My imagination ran wild in those seconds, what "they" would do to me, whatever malevolent monster was behind this facility, what inconceivable horrors waited past this ingress.

What I saw was, in ways, worse than anything I had anticipated. Initially, I felt a sense of relief; I saw others. Regular people, like me. Joy washed over me, as for the first time in this terrible ordeal, I wasn't alone. This feeling however, was fleeting. Upon further examination, there was something wrong with these people. At first glance, yes, they seemed perfectly normal, but after a full inspection there was something missing. After my guides indifference towards what I did - so long as I remained in the room - was made clear by his general dismissal of me, I attempted to speak to the others. My greatest fears were realised; my queries were met with confused looks and half answers, as if they themselves couldn't understand what I was saying. I collapsed in a heap of despair. I was lost. Any hope of others like me, of company, lost. Surrounded by people, I was more alone then when I first awoke. An outsider.

I felt a hand on my back. Another, dressed like the man who arrived at my door what now felt like an age ago. He offered his hand, helped me up. Words of sympathy, how he heard I had s mishap this morning (undoubtedly referencing my destruction of the Machine). They felt rehersed, like he had done this one thousand times before. I did not know this man, nor did I trust him and his honeyed words. Nonetheless I did not make a scene, merely remained silent. He rambled about "doctors orders" and "that time of day" but I payed no heed. I saw what he was hiding. In his hands he brandished, beneath a light blue cloth, a syringe. Undoubtedly sedation, what else? What better way to deal with a troublemaker then to nullify the problem. I knew I had to act fast, no time for idle contemplation. I lashed out at him, like I had to the Machine hours before, disarming him momentarily. I felt my bones ache as I slowly attempted to flee. This small triumph however, was quickly thwarted, as my opponent seemed relitivley unphased at my outburst. He easily caught me, and escorted me back to the hall without difficulty. The entire journey, he chastised me, as if I was some misbehaving child who didn't know better. I was a young boy, refusing to eat his greens. I was confused, and disorientated. Why am I being met with such a response? Was I not, for those moments, dangerous assaultant, worthy of sedation? Does he see me as so little?

He ushered me into the bedroom, calling out to me as he shut the door "We will have a chat and try again later, alright Tom?". Upon hearing my own name, I froze. For the first time that day I looked down, and saw my withered hands. I approached the glass of water on my bedside table, and saw one of "them" staring back in my reflection. The lost expression, those empty eyes. I saw myself for who I was. I cross the room, and open the drawer beneath the wardrobe. My muscles ached as I bent - the strain of a long life - as I fished out the photograph. I looked at the stranger in the photo. The man whose memories came back to me occasionally. He is surrounded by people, loved ones, no doubt. I gaze longingly at the image. How I wish I could go back. But he is a stranger to me now, lost to the cruelty of age. I knew, deep down, that this wasn't the first time. And worst of all, I knew it wouldn't be the last. In my anguish, I carefully placed the frame back, and I wept. I wept for what I had lost. I wept for the life I had forgotten, but most of all, I wept for tomorrow. For the days of lethargy, misery and boredom. An outsider in my own mind.

#my own work #first time posting my big stuff!#hope you guys like it!#any feedback?#creative writing #short story #literature #story #writing #writing prompt #my work

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lifeasatargetedindividual · 11 months

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It's "funny;" a couple days ago, I tried to make a post on here and it refused to go through. I'd typed nothing considered inappropriate nor made any kind of threats, I was only talking about the hidden evil lurking within those who participate in gangstalking and the fact they involve and target children. I suppose since it's crystal clear I'm being watched even more heavily due to my stance against the government and my attempts to spread the truth around concerning this illegal cointelrpo program and MK ultra madness they're running, I'm being censured now more than ever. The government will do all it can to break its neck watching me and trying to torment me, but as usual, have no willing intentions to just leave me alone and let me live my "boring" repetitive life.

Ever since the middle of last month, they've beefed up the attacks against me, as well as countless other T.I.'s out there.

It's gotten to the point, from the time I wake up till the time I go to bed I'm allowed little to no relief. The attacks against me are physical and focus mostly on my face, particulary my eyes, yet other parts of my body are not excluded. My arms are their second favorite place to attack. They also like hitting me in the back of my head now too. They've gone full aggressive mode on me and seem to bear no intention on giving me a break any time soon. At this point it would probably take an act of God to get them to back off even just a little. Smh.

My face randomly burns and itches throughout the day and my sleep is rarely peaceful. All of the attacks are always accompanied by the V2K verbal abuse and the demand that I "shut up!" Which I know is their way of saying, 'don't think, don't speak, don't express yourself in anyway until we tell you you can!" I'd like to believe the attacks have intensified because their time of reign is almost over and this is their way of kicking back at us T.I.'s, their last hellish romp until its done forever. I was told via V2K the reason the attacks against me have heightened are due to me putting Brinley "under fire," in other words telling the truth online and in person on how he is the one who had my name put on the illegal watchlist.

In a time where I've been thrown under an even thicker microscope, it's possible this is being checked out, they may be trying to link it to him and find out why he wanted me on there in the first place and who authorized it, but who knows. The problem with the V2K is sometimes this A.I. program (which sounds like actual people mind you) tell me sheer lies, other times they drop hints about things.....that turn out exactly as they said it would. I figure its a psychological thing: trying to get me to trust them despite them abusing me. I'll never understand this mindset because I'm not abusive, and I don't have time for mind games.

Anyhow they've hinted as well I'm being "investigated" by a different branch of the government due to the lawsuit. Don't know if I believe that one either, my reasoning being I should've been thoroughly "investigated" BEFORE my name was put on the list in the first place. Not five years later. Had they done their homework earlier they would've realized in no time, outside of working for a living, like every other American out there, I'm a family gal. I don't go a lot of places, I don't hang out with a lot of people. Before my life was hijacked out of my control, I was a very private person. Anyhow, the V2K voices may be on to something after all, as the cops and undercover vehicles following me around any time I leave my house aren't as "stealth" as these people may think they are, although in most cases, they clearly aren't trying to be seen, unlike the common attention-whore gangstalkers. I just notice everything.

Although I document the attacks and report them on websites such as these, I do my best not to "complain" over the circumstances. Many people I've come across mix up venting and documentation for "complaining." One T.I. I came across online even commented that most "real" T.I.'s no longer even speak on the horrors they go through because in their minds, there's no point. In my opinion however, it's up to each individual whether they want to talk about it or not. It doesn't make you a "phony" or a "whiny weakling" just because you dare to express yourself on the abuse you go through. Some people are just "stronger" in the fact they can go through it all without expressing the pain in any way, while the rest of us use our self expressions on social media or anywhere as an outlet. I'm of the latter. It's not very good for me to hold alot in overtime. Trust me.

Although it's a challenge, rather than focus entirely on the abuse I can't control, I try to shift my mindset to other areas: how I can try to help others who are in the same boat I am, how I can advocate against this undercover evil, and how I can do what I can to enjoy this life despite the obstacles. I can't wait until I have my freedom back but I also can't just sleep my life away waiting for it all to be over either.

I'm considering going back to my video diaries. I used to love doing it despite the fact I'd ramble on and on in most of them lol I stopped mostly because I got tired of them being hacked and spread around and then I'd get ridiculed and harassed for the things I'd say. Now, I don't even care anymore. My enemies are doing what they wanna do against me, not giving a damn how it hurts me and causes damage to me. So I've decided to take the same mindset again. I probably won't actually publish the videos until this entire thing is over. I just want to get back to doing the things I love doing but was forced to stop because of the harassment. Life is short. Our abusers are having all the fun they want to have, doing everything they want to do, even though it all revolves around us 🙄 If they can have fun and enjoy themselves, we can too because unlike them, at least we mind our own business and don't go out of our way to hurt people!

#gangstalking #organized stalking #targetedindividual #organized harassment #persecution #voice to skull harassment #gangstalkers #government corruption #harassment #directed energy attacks

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glenngaylord · 1 year

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Homo Invasion – Film Review: Knock At The Cabin ★★★1/2

Ever since the great The Sixth Sense, I’ve always looked forward to M. Night Shyamalan’s subsequent films, despite diminishing returns. Say what you will about the final products, but he knows how to set up a provocative, pulpy premise and deliver those famous twists you chat about around the water cooler the next day. Sure, he’s had some low points with people running from the wind or responsible parents sending a blind girl alone into the treacherous woods, but he has always had strong commercial instincts and a knack for precision framing. As most of his films have ultimately disappointed me, I begged for him to direct scripts from other writers or at least adapt a film from another medium.

Enter Knock At The Cabin, which Shyamalan, along with co-writers Steve Desmond and Michael Sherman, have adapted from Paul Tremblay’s 2018 horror novel, “The Cabin At The End Of The World”. Despite some repetitiveness, this is easily one of Shyamalan’s best films in many years. I greatly looked forward to this movie, as I count the Home Invasion Thriller among my favorite genres. It also happens to be that rare studio film which centers around a gay married couple, providing a fresh take on a time-worn tale.

You’ve seen the setup before. A family arrives at their vacation spot, the dreaded cabin in the woods. Here we meet Eric (Jonathan Groff), Andrew (Ben Aldridge) and their adopted daughter Wen (the strikingly self-possessed Kristen Cui). As the film opens, Wen has wandered off to gather grasshoppers when a hulking stranger named Leonard walks up to her and awkwardly attempts to befriend her. As played by David Bautista, Leonard ominously tells Wen that her parents won’t want to let him and his friends inside, but they will have to do so.

[Spoiler Alert - and I’m not referring to Aldridge’s last film - but if you’ve seen the trailer, I’m going to discuss the basic premise in the next paragraph]

Scared, Wen races to her parents and they hurry to protect themselves. When the titular event occurs, we know no good can come from this. It’s a truly terrifying premise, one which conjured up all sorts of “Is Tamara home?” memories from The Strangers. Sure enough, Leonard and his cohorts, Sabrina (Nikki Amuka-Bird), Adriane (Abby Quinn), and Redmond (Rupert Grint), come knocking with some medieval weapons in tow. Once inside, the four present our family with an insane option. The four will not harm them, but one family member must willingly allow themselves to be killed by one of the other two or else the entire world will end. Yes, the apocalypse is coming, folks!

I won’t discuss the plot specifics beyond this, but what follows is an unnerving series of events which bring up issues such as faith and the impact we humans have on the environment, themes which Shyamalan has explored in many of his past films, but here we have homophobic hate crimes added to the mix. It’s a provocative addition, one which comes with a surprise or two and contributes to the core mystery. I’m not convinced it all ties together perfectly, but the premise has an open-ended quality anyhow. Like Shyamalan’s series, Servant, which also features an outstanding Rupert Grint, we witness cult-like behavior and constantly question the veracity of it. We’re intentionally duped by unreliable narrators or by people who may not all have the answers.

One can also see the parallels with the COVID crisis in this film, despite the source material pre-dating it. Additionally, the fact that most of the action takes place in a single house with a limited cast speaks to these times. Shyamalan makes the best of such limitations, expertly photographing a contained set. He knows his way around an action sequence and has always excelled with well-placed silences and the use of negative space in his compositions.

A story like this, while well-crafted and beautifully directed, at times grows repetitive and strains credibility. Thus, it lives or dies by its cast, and everyone here excels. Jonathan Groff has an inherent sweetness to him which helps to sell his character’s shifting point of view. I bought him as this somewhat square daddy whose people pleasing tendencies give way to being open to perhaps the more unbelievable information hurled at them. Groff gets extra points for not spitting all over his co-stars, something he’s famous for doing on stage, during the obligatory singing in the car scene.

Ben Aldridge, so winning in the aforementioned Spoiler Alert, continues his ascent to stardom with his great looks and hair-trigger portrayal. He also impresses in the action sequences, brandishing a gun in a way which gave me “Will he be the first out gay James Bond?” vibes. He’s got superstar upside, which is exciting to see in an out gay actor.

Amuka-Bird, Grint and Quinn acquit themselves nicely in roles which call for large, potentially annoying exposition dumps, but all find their characters’ humanity. The real revelation here, however, is Bautista, who gives a towering, gentle giant performance of such tenderness and vulnerability all mixed together with that intimidating physical presence. He’s clearly on a career trajectory like that of Dwayne Johnson, but with much more accomplished dramatic skills. You want to hate this quartet of home invaders, but they all bring a surprising amount of heart to their roles.

Because of Shyamalan’s spotty track record, it’s difficult to go into his films without bracing yourself for those eye-rolling moments. Some of the speeches did that for me, overwritten and occasionally a little too shouty, but for the most part, I really sat forward in my seat and enjoyed the ride. Some of the doomsday moments felt genuinely scary although on the whole, this film is more tense than frightening. Fans of the novel will not feel spoiled by the differing turns the film takes. This is just plain old-fashioned, good commercial filmmaking which made me want to discuss it with people afterwards. It may feel claustrophobic and it may hammer the same points home over and over again, but the fact that it tackles such huge issues from a queer perspective gives this treasured genre a fresh twist.

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amistytown · 3 years

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The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Aversion Therapy

Summary: Y/N has been institutionalised for sex addiction at an experimental facility, run by Dr. Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Doctor!Sam x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Sex addiction, addiction therapies, abuse of therapist/patient relationship, noncon roleplay Tags: hair pulling, crotchless panties, degradation (like, a lot), blow job, spitting, pussy spanking, sex on a desk, body writing, p in v, pulling out Word Count: 4.5 k Created for: @samwinchesterbingo - Doctor!Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Crotchless Panties | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Hair Pulling | @j3bingo - Diary

A/N: So I this may or may not be one of the dirtiest things I've ever written. It's definitely up there in the list 😅I hope you enjoy, fellow sinners!

October 24th

Last night was awesome. He took me out to dinner and everything, real gentleman, even though we both knew that’s not what the night was about. It was sunset when we got up to the lookout, all romantic. I felt silly that he was making such a big deal about it. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be so much pressure. Now it’s over I don’t feel any different except that I want more. We went twice last night but that still wasn’t enough. I touched myself this morning and it was almost like I could still feel him inside of me. I think tonight I’m gonna let him do it without the condom, so he will still be inside me tomorrow morning.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shout, outraged. It wasn’t enough that your parents had locked you in this place, humiliating you, betraying you, handing you over to Doctor Judgy, but they’d handed over your diaries too. Fucking great. Dr. Winchester ignores you and keeps reading, skipping ahead a few weeks.

November 15th

Fuck I love sex. Even with guys that aren’t great at it it’s still worth it just to have a cock inside me. I wish I could stay the night somewhere without my parents freaking out. I want to fall asleep with a cock inside me the whole time, wake up to it fucking me, keeping me open. College is gonna be the best. Then I can finally do what I want, fuck who I want. Can finally order a freaking vibrator without mom asking what’s in the package. Ugh, I can’t wait.

Sam’s voice sounds unnatural reading out your words. He’s not putting the right emotion or inflection in them. It’s like he’s taunting you with them. There’s a trace of humour underlying everything he says.

“Why are you doing this?” you shout again, and Sam looks up at you from your diary, a smug smile on his lips.

“Because you’re sick, Y/N,” he states it like an obvious fact, shutting the diary with a loud clunk and waving it back and forth. “These are the words of an addict.”

“I’m not an addict,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Sam raises his eyebrows at you and flicks open your diary again, thumbing through to a page he has marked with a turned down corner.

February 3rd

That’s it, I’m addicted to cock. I need it more than coffee or air or food. I just want to be on my knees all day and let men use me. I want them in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass, I don’t care. I just want them. One day I’ll figure out how to make that happen.

Sam gives you an accusatory look as he closes the diary again, and you do have the good sense to look a little sheepish. Having your thirsty words read back to you is embarrassing. Especially considering the man reading them out is extremely attractive. If you’d met him when you were out you would have been on him in a heartbeat.

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his crotch, which is just below your eye level where he’s leaning against the front edge of his desk. Dr. Winchester notices your gaze and smirks down at you knowingly. The expression makes him even hotter – domineering and sexy.

“You really are a little slut. Get carted off to rehab and the first thing you do is eye up your therapist,” he clicks his tongue disappointedly, and you blush for a moment before you decide that you don’t want to take this shit from him.

“So what,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. Dr. Winchester raises a brow again, surprised by your boldness.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate to think about your therapist in a sexual manner?” He pushes himself off his desk and settles his hands in his pockets, considering you carefully.

“I like cock, so what?” you say again defiantly. The doctor keeps his expression neutral, walking around his desk and sitting down, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down a few things. You watch him suspiciously, wanting to know what he was writing down. “I’m not crazy, I just really like sex.” Dr. Winchester nods and keeps writing, not looking up at you.

“Come on, are you saying you don’t like sex?” you try to rile him up, and you see a small laugh bleed through his careful exterior, but not the kind of reaction you were hoping for. “What, your manhood not measure up or something?” That gets the doctor’s attention. He shoots you a glare over his desk and puts aside his pen, folding his hands in front of him and staring you down. His eyes drag across you from top to bottom, lingering on your lips, your neck, your cleavage, your legs. You like him looking at you like this, it sends a thrill through your chest, settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I can see that your attitude is going to make traditional therapies somewhat difficult.” You roll your eyes, but let him keep talking. “Have you heard of aversion therapy?” You shake your head shortly. “Aversion therapy is a psychological treatment in which the patient,” Dr. Winchester gestures to you, “is exposed to a stimulus while simultaneously being subjected to some form of discomfort, in an attempt to discourage said behaviour.”

“Um, English, please?” you stare at the doctor blankly, not putting together how this is going to apply to you.

“Well,” Dr. Winchester leans back in his chair, and swings his legs up onto his desk and brings his hands to fold in his lap. It makes him look surprisingly casual - not at all the image you had of doctors and therapists in your mind. “In this case, the stimulus is an unwanted behaviour, your over zealous sexual cravings and actions. We need to introduce an element of discomfort or unpleasantness into your experience of that behaviour, to discourage future indulgences,” he explains.

“What are you gonna do, Doctor?” you sneer at his title. “Put me in an electroshock chair and make me watch porn? Newsflash - that sounds amazing,” you scoff. Honestly, if that’s going to be your therapy, you’ll drop the attitude and sign the fuck up right now.

Dr. Winchester shakes his head, a small smirk on his lips. He stands, removing his jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair, then proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and roll them back, one at a time. You watch him suspiciously. The moment his jacket came off your head went straight to one conclusion, but that couldn’t be right. You find your eyes lingering on his forearms, the veins in them pulsing visibly just below the surface of his skin. You want to lick them.

“No you’re right, you’d enjoy that far too much.” The doctor’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look up, watching him slowly approaching your chair. “We won’t be associating a physical discomfort with the addiction, what we want is to alter your mental associations towards the behaviour. We’ll use a series of mantras, and repetition and after a period of good, focused work, we can start to transition you back to a home environment.” His hand comes up to grip the back of your wooden chair, right beside your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body against your skin despite the several inches still separating you.

Between your legs, you can feel how much Dr. Winchester’s proximity is beginning to affect you. For some reason the way he’s speaking to you, so formal and condescending, is really turning you on. You bet if he knew, he’d just say it was another sign of your “addiction”. You can feel your panties starting to get a little slippery when you shift in your seat to look up at him, and you don’t manage to stifle your small intake of breath when the open crotch of the underwear accidentally catches on one of your pussy lips, sending a delicious tug of pain into your core.

Dr. Winchester smirks down at you, entirely unsubtle, probably assuming that gasp was your reaction to him being so near.

Finally, after far too long staring at him, you manage to take a breath and ask- “what exactly is my therapy going to be, then?” Your voice comes out much higher than you’d anticipated, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Dr. Winchester’s hand drags along the top of the chair and lands on the back of your neck. You shiver when his skin touches yours, despite its warmth. His fingers wind themselves into your hair a second later and yank hard, pulling your head over the back of the chair so you’re forced to look straight up at him.

“Ow! What the hell?!” You reach behind you to try to break his grip but he just pulls again. The pain sends a new tendril of desire twisting down your spine to between your legs, and you feel your panties getting even wetter. You whimper, your arousal clearly evident to the doctor, who laughs.

“Yeah, I knew you’d be too into pain for that kind of thing to work,” he chuckles darkly. He bends down, face so close to yours you can feel his breath ghost against your cheek. “So here’s what we’re going to do instead. I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re going to make sure you don’t enjoy it. You’re going to cry and yell and beg me to stop.” He practically growls, nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

Your pussy clenches at his words, aroused beyond belief at the disdain he’s treating you with. You struggle against his grip deliberately, relishing in the renewed sting as his hand pulls your hair even tighter to keep you still.

“You really don’t get it, do you Dr. Winchester,” you try to laugh but your throat is taut and your air isn’t quite flowing easily enough to let you. “I like cock. I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me want you to stop.”

“I think we can drop the formalities now,” he releases you, standing up and reaching for his belt. “It’s Sam, not ‘Doctor Winchester’.”

Your eyes drop to his hands immediately, watching his fingers deftly push his button through its hole and pull down his zip. He’s already hard, you can tell by the tent in his boxers, but you’re astonished to see when he pulls himself out that he’s actually only semi hard – his cock is just huge. You feel your mouth and your pussy water in equal measure.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he starts to stroke himself, eyes tracing up and down your body hungrily as he does so.

“You want this cock, Y/N?” he asks pointedly, and you nod mutely. “Use your words then.”

“Yes,” you breathe instantly, dropping to your knees on the hard, grey carpet in front of him.

“Then you don’t get it,” Sam smirked, contradictorily walking himself closer to you as he speaks, hand still pumping his cock.

“Please?” you beg, hoping that’s the game he’s trying to play. Maybe he thinks he can humiliate you enough that you won’t want to repeat the experience – he’s going to be wrong.

“Nope.” Sam pops the ‘p’ on the word teasingly. “Your mantra for today is ‘no’.”

“What?” you look up to him, confused.

“Anytime I ask you if this is what you want – if you want my cock in your mouth, in your pussy, anywhere I want to put it – anytime I ask you if you want it, you have to say ‘no’,” he smiles down at you like some kind of evil genius, and you’re getting annoyed now that you find this so fucking hot.

“You want me to pretend you’re raping me? Sounds like you need therapy.” Sam laughs, not at all offended by your jab.

“We’re trying to condition a new response, Y/N,” he explains lightly, still jacking himself off maddeningly close to your lips. It takes every ounce of self control you have not to lean forward and suck him down on the spot. “If you want my cock inside you, then you have to tell me you don’t. And hopefully, with time, you’ll start to believe what you’re saying out loud. You’ll believe that you don’t need this, don’t want this.” He taps his cock against your lips and your tongue chases him immediately, reaching for a taste of the liquid you felt pooling on his tip.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he pulls himself away, tutting. “What do you say, Y/N?”

You swallow your pride and give him what he’s asking, though begrudgingly.

“No, please, don’t.” Your voice is monotone, lifeless – like how you used to read out loud in English class when the teacher called on you.

“C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. How are you going to believe yourself if I don’t believe you?” Sam walks closer again and sets his cock against your mouth lightly. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“No,” you manage to choke out, and your hesitance to say the word must sound like hesitance to give him a blow job because Sam buys it, and the next moment he’s pushing the shiny, pink head past your lips, against your tongue; not stopping until he hits the top of your throat. He pulls back again, taking himself completely out of your mouth.

“You want it?” he asks again, grinning down at you.

“No,” you whimper, while inside every fibre of your body is screaming – yes!

“Good girl,” he groans as he pushes himself back inside, and you moan along with him. This time he doesn’t stop himself, fucking all the way into your throat until your nose is pressed against the skin of his stomach. “Fuck, you really are a cockslut,” Sam grunts above you, pulling back a little and starting to fuck your mouth in earnest. “You haven’t gagged once. Not many girls manage that with me.”

You believe him. Your jaw is already aching from the stretch of your lips around his girth but you savour the hurt. You love this; being on your knees for some guy you barely know with his cock shoved as far in as he can fit it. This is what you were made for, you know it, no matter how hard Sam’s going to try to talk you out of it.

He fucks your throat for a few more minutes, lulling you into a false sense of security. You’ve relaxed into it now, and you aren’t thinking about the therapy or the role play or any of it, you’re only thinking about his cock against your tongue, heavy and velvety and perfect. You cry out when he pulls away, taking in a shocked breath at the sudden emptiness.

“You want it back baby girl?” Sam asks breathlessly, and you allow yourself a moment to feel smug at how clearly affected he is by your ministrations.

“Please,” you beg, crawling towards him, forgetting your lines. Sam pulls away, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wrong answer, Y/N.”

“No!” you shout hoarsely, trying to correct yourself. “I mean no, please, no.”

“No,” Sam sucks in a breath, reaching to pull up his trousers like he’s going to put himself away. “No, I don’t think I believe you.”

“No, Sam, please!” you beg, reaching out for him. “I can do this,” you whisper, and Sam lets you take his cock in your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours and guiding your strokes. “Ask me again?”

“Do you want my cock, Y/N?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say firmly. “No, don’t make me do this.”

“Good girl,” he says again, his hand tightening over yours and using you to jerk himself off. “Do you want my cock, Y/N?”

“No,” you whine, trying to play into it even though your fingers start trying to jack him off faster of their own accord, your hands slipping together over the saliva you’d left behind.

“Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Sam growls, reaching his free hand out to snag your hair and pulling hard, causing you to shout out in delicious pain.

“No!” you squeal, trying to pull out of his hold, hoping you can act your way through this convincingly enough to get what you really want.

“No, whore?” Sam spits on you harshly, the wet striking you on the cheek and dripping down your chin.

“No,” you scream again as he pulls you off of the ground by your hair, throwing you forwards over his desk. Books and pads of paper go crashing to the ground. Pens scatter around you when your elbow hits the mug that was holding dozens of them.

“No?” you hear Sam scoff as he flips up the hem of your patient-issued uniform skirt, spotting the pair of crotchless panties you’re wearing beneath. “You’re telling me a slut like you, who gets put in an insititution for sex addiction, and decides to pack crotchless fucking panties, doesn’t want my cock stuffing her cunt full?”

“No, I don’t want it,” you moan, his words positively setting you on fire. Fuck, you want everything he’s saying and more.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Sam spits between your legs, adding to the slick that must be visibly gathered there by now.

“No!” you cry out when he delivers a stinging blow to your pussy, palm landing right over the open slit of your panties. “No,” you sob out again as he continues to spank you, each hit making a sickly wet echo and sending a jolt of heat through your clit every time his fingers happen to catch it. “No, no, no,” you’re begging, even as you spread your legs wider and push your hips back into his hand, trying to angle yourself so he hits your small bundle of nerves more frequently.

“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you,” Sam is seething behind you. “I can feel how wet you are, you fucking whore. You want my cock now, huh? Want me to put all this slick to good use?” He dips his fingers into the crotch of your panties and comes away with his fingers drenched in your juices, which you see a moment later when he shoves them in your face, yanking you back by your hair again.

“See this slut? See how I can tell you’re lying to me? What’s all this for if it’s not to get you ready for my cock?”

“N–” you try to protest, needing him to believe you if you want to actually feel his cock inside you, but your words are cut off as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you lick yourself off his hand.

“That’s right, taste what a fucking embarrassment you are.” Sam lets go of your hair and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers reaching for one of the pens that you knocked onto the desk earlier. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he uncaps the pen and crouches down behind you, putting your pussy at eye level for him.

“I think we should let the world know just how much of a slut you really are.” You wonder what he means, feeling him draw a single line down your right buttock, then switching to your left and writing some words. “Now anyone who fucks you is gonna see my instructions, and know they have to leave a tally mark right here.” He slaps your ass hard where he had just drawn his own. “And every time you come back to me for a session with more tallies than you left with the last time I saw you, that’s just one more time you’re gonna have to go through this with me. To make sure we really break you out of this habit.”

You silently wonder how many guys there are in this hospital that you might want to fuck. He spanks you again and you clench, pussy convulsing at the threat and the thought of men keeping count of the cocks you’ve taken by literally writing it on your body. You feel a trickle of slick start to make its way down your thigh, and you know Sam must have noticed because he laughs darkly.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Are you already planning how to rack up your score as soon as I let you out of this office?” he sneers vehemently.

“No,” you shake your head, even though it’s entirely true. “No, I don’t want that, I promise, I don’t.”

“But you still want my cock?” Sam questions, and you feel the tip of his dick start to drag against you, up and down the slit of your panties.

“No, I don’t want it,” you insist, trying to keep yourself from pushing back onto him.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam pets at your lower back and braces himself as he starts to sink in. You both moan when he enters you, but to your chagrin he stops when he only has an inch or so inside. “You want me to keep going?” he pants, and you’re pleased to hear that he’s not as composed now that he’s got the head of his cock wedged between your legs.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, silently praying for him to continue.

“Very good,” he groans, and begins to thrust into you again; tiny, sharp motions to ease himself into you bit by bit.

“No, stop,” you whine without prompting, hoping to encourage him to go faster. He does. “No, no, no,” you chant until he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, his hips pressed firmly into yours, his hands squeezing around your waist possessively.

“No?” Sam asks teasingly, pulling out a little.

“No!” you cry again, and this time you do mean ‘no’ – you don’t want him to leave you. At your cry Sam pushes back in harshly, snapping his hips back against yours and moaning, the sound bubbling up deep from his chest. “No,” you try repeating the phrase, testing your theory, and you’re rewarded by Sam withdrawing and fucking back into you piercingly.

“Please stop, please,” you whimper, not able to stop yourself from rocking back into his thrusts as Sam starts a punishing pace.

“You fucking liar, you love this you little cockslut,” Sam grunts pointedly, taunting you.

“No,” you insist, still meeting him thrust for thrust. “No I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”

“You’re always going to want cock, always gonna beg for it.”

“No!”

“You want me to stuff you full everyday don’t you? Maybe more than that. I bet you’d sit under my desk all day with my cock in your mouth if I told you to,” he laughs, his harsh pace becoming even quicker. He’s not fucking you deeply now but that means that every time he pushes in the head of his cock punches hard against the sweet spot on the front of your pussy, making you clench around him.

“No,” you shudder, feeling yourself close to the brink of your release, and you wonder what he’ll do when you cum – a clear demonstration that you’re fucking loving this, despite what you’re saying out loud.

“Say it louder, bitch,” he grunts, reaching down and spanking hard against your clit.

“No, no, stop!” you shout, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock, your orgasm just out of reach.

“You want to cum on my cock?” Sam slaps you again but then starts to rub tiny circles just where you need them.

“N–no,” you stutter, unable to hold back your moan.

“You don’t want to cum baby, you sure?” he teases, angling his hips so he’s fucking your sweet spot with each drive into you.

“No,” you whine, voice pitching higher as you feel yourself right there.

“No?” You can hear from Sam’s voice that he’s pouting at you, mocking you. “You don’t want to cum baby? Not gonna cum on my big, fat cock fucking you so good?” You clench around him, your toes curling, straining… “Come on you little slut, fucking cum already. Thought whores like you were supposed to be easy? Huh? Want you to cum for me, Y/N.”

“No, no, no, no, no–” you lose track of what you’re saying as you cum, screaming into your arm so you don’t accidentally say something to make Sam stop fucking you. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and your come down, hips snapping more and more erratically as you bury your face in his desk and try to catch your breath.

Suddenly, the weight of his body is gone, and then there’s a warm jolt between your legs, and you know he’s cumming – aiming his load at the top of your panties and letting it drip down through the open crotch. You moan high in your throat at the feeling of his release soaking into your underwear, mixing with your own juices, which are already leaking out of you and dripping onto his desk.

“That was a really good session, Y/N,” Sam says, and you’re surprised to hear how composed he sounds, though a little breathless. “I think this is going to be a good strategy for you.” He walks around to the other side of his desk and starts to pick up the books and papers you’d knocked down earlier.

Slowly, you peel yourself up off his desktop, your skin sticking to the surface with sweat that’s already started to dry.

“Go clean yourself up, Y/N,” Sam instructs, not looking at you as he continues to tidy his desk. You turn to go, still in your post-orgasmic daze, but you spin back around when Sam calls your name again. “Oh, and Y/N?” you look at him curiously, and a smirk curls slowly across his lips as you watch. “You better keep the tally marks, or there’ll be consequences next session.”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you agree quietly and slip out of his office into the hallway, walking back to your room behind an orderly, with Sam’s cum still dripping down your thighs. You think about the tally he’d left on your body, and you look up at the orderly, who’s now stopped at the door to your room and holding it open for you.

As you pass him, you keep your eyes trained at the ground, and glance sideways to surreptitiously inspect the man next to you. The hospital scrubs do nothing to hide his endowment. You smile brightly, bringing your eyes up the rest of his body, taking in the muscles in his arms and the name tag on his chest, before landing on his face.

“Thanks, Dean.” You walk into your room, eyes flicking back to see Dean still standing there, watching you walk towards your bed. You bend over to grab something off the bottom shelf of your nightstand, not caring what you grab, just knowing that you’re now giving Dean a full display of your ass – Sam’s writing and Sam’s cum decorating your skin.

The door behind you shuts quietly.

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yungbud · 3 years

Note

pregnancy kink. anything. there doesnt have to actually be a pregnancy, just like, the idea of him fucking and coming inside you, the idea that you COULD get pregnant, could carry his baby. the dirtier and filthier the better. i will pay.

Oh, Baby X

Word count: 2.4k

Tw:Breeding kink, light smacking, choking, claiming, smut obviously, drinking, cum fetish. Just, I mean, filth. A lil fluff at the beginning tho aww :))

A/n:I’ve been in such a writing stump but damn, money is one hell of a motivator. Please don’t feel obligated to pay me tho, but if you CAN ok and you are safe and aren’t going to starve >:( my cashapp is $Honeybungun1. I appreciate it if you do, I still love you dearly if you don’t. Also! If this is your thing, I recommend britishfilth, here’s an audio porn he did that was along these lines :)

---

It’s Valentine’s day, well, valentines night you suppose, and both you and Dom had just gotten back from a romantic picnic on a mountain overlooking the city. You watched the sunset while you ate your favorite food, he even sung to you a bit. You never we much of a fan when it came to Valentines day, finding it cheesy and overdone

“You should love and cherish your significant other everyday, if you need a reminder you’re a prick.”

“Awh come on love, it’s sweet, like chocolate.” Dom would always argue. He always had a way of convincing you to do things, and you definitely didn’t regret it. Despite your feelings towards the holiday you actually had a lot of fun finding some time to set apart and spend with the love of your life.

You’d dragged the outing past sunset and into the night, neither of you wanting it to ever have to end.

But alas, it did, and now you were home.

This wasn’t so bad either, you thought, sat in front of the fireplace. You heard the clinking of wine glasses from the other room as Dom returned, taking a seat next to you.

“What's that?” You ask, glancing down at the liquid that filled the glass. It was red and shiny like silk, beautiful, but not wine.

“It’s wine,” He confirmed “it’s called something weird, like starry sky wine. Pretty isn’t it?”

“Yeah, wow, it looks like a potion.”

“Mmh, love potion.”

“Don’t need it.” You break the short distance between the two of you to place a kiss on his plump lips, pulling away but never straying far, a smile spread across your lips.

“Still,” pausing once more to place a peck to your soft lips “makes me feel all fancy.” He mused, striking a pose with his glass of glamourous alcohol. You both laughed quietly, the room falling into a comfortable silence while you stared lovingly at each other. Dom broke eye contact to glance thoughtfully down at his glass, only looking back up when he was ready to speak.

“I’ve been thinkin’, yenno,” You hum a tone of encouragement, his gaze shifting to your lips “I think you’d make a great mom.” Your eyebrows lifted at this, amusement pulling across your face. You never quite saw yourself as the motherly type, you were surprised Dom did.

“I’m serious, I think you’d be great.” Dom says, moving a piece of hair out of your face

“Plus,” He added, leaning in to whisper in your ear “I’d love to help you make it.” You smiled at this, finally seeing where he was going.

“It does take two.” You commented, taking a small sip of your wine, still wondering how they managed to make it look this good. The fruity aroma filled your lungs as you lifted the glass up to your mouth once again, taking a small distracted sip. You weren’t as concerned with getting drunk as you were with concealing the sly smile that was sure to come across your face.

Dom’s tongue shot out to lick quickly across his bottom lips, his hand coming up to wipe down the bottom of his face as he mulled over what to say next.

“Well, we’ve got the wine, we’ve got the fire, what are we waiting for?” You shook your head, your hand coming up to rest on his cheek as you pulled his lips onto yours.

You only remembered to set your wine on the coffee table when Dom attempted to remove your shirt, almost spilling it everywhere. There was a collective sigh of relief before you placed it down, Dom moving quickly from your shirt to your bra.

“Look so fookin good for me tonight.” He moaned, his lips coming up to place hot kisses on your neck

“Well, take it in, if we’re actually going to do this you’ll never see it like this again.” You say, taking a look down at your own body. Dom shook his head almost frantically, a look of distress evident in his features.

“No, no, no, love. Only thing that could make you look any better is if I knew my baby was in there.” He assured you, placing light kisses to your stomach.

“All that’s in there right now is a food baby, bub.”

“Well then, let's change that.” Dom says, smirking the whole way back to your lips. You worked on removing his pants while he worked on removing yours before you both decided to switch and take off your own. You couldn’t wipe the smiles off your face as you undressed yourselves, the perfect end to the perfect night.

Your lips clashed in a harsh kiss, breathing in each other like it was the last breaths you’d ever take. Your tongues wrestled for dominance, the kiss becoming hotter and messier by the second. It was clear how desperate you were for one another.

Dom’s smirking lips made their way back down your body, slowly becoming more open mouthed and wet the lower he got. By the time he reached your navel his tongue was out and swirling against your warm skin, sucking it into his mouth and nibbling lightly.

Dom spread your legs, leaving them propped up on either side of his head, taking his time kissing up one leg, his tongue sliding lightly against your skin.

Kiss

and back down,

Kiss

then doing the same to the other.

Kiss

You knew he would tease, he couldn’t help himself, but you also knew better than to beg. Begging would only make him take longer, he loved hearing you beg for him. Begging never did much for you, only ever feeding his ego.

So you remained silent, trying to maintain your breathing as he painstakingly slow

Kissed

“Good girl.” Dom praised, hooking a finger into your panties and pulling them down your thigh. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent, before diving in. Soft moans slid past your lips at his tongue licking hungrily at you, determined to get every last bit.

“Please, more.” Your hips instinctively jutted along with his actions, but his arm came quickly to rest on top of your hips.

“You’ll take what I give you, slut.” He says, placing a firm smack to your inner thigh before continuing his actions. Dom’s arm remained tightly on you, pinning your hips to the couch, making sure that you would sit there and take every bit of pleasure he gave you. Your hips jutted when he would focus on your clit, but ultimately they would go nowhere. Dom made sure of it.

His fingers came up to your hole, pushing one of his digits in slowly, his tongue coming up to lap at your clit. Dom loved to use tongue when he gave head, he loved tasting every part of you, especially on a night like tonight. A night where you would become one in creation of another, he loved feeling so connected with you.

“Hm, it’s more likely that it’ll take if you’re turned on, so I’m gonna need you to come for me.” Dom says, it was posed as an offer, but clear that it was a demand. You dug your fingers into the couch cushions beside you, your hips moving along with his tongue as you tried your best to get yourself off. You could feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach

Building

And building

And building until,

“Oh god, oh my fucking god, please!” You shout, your orgasm washing over you. Your toes curled down my Dom’s head, your legs spasming a bit as he milked you from your core, licking up every last bit of you.

When Dom came back up his face was soaking wet with your juices, he had never looked better in your opinion. He didn’t bother to wipe his mouth, hastily connecting his lips with your own, letting you taste yourself, a mixture of you and the wine he’d been drinking on his tongue.

It was heavenly.

Dom took a moment to catch his breath, giving himself a few languid strokes, making a show of it with his head leant back in bliss, before lining himself up with your hole.

“Stop teasing.” You whine, a pitiful pout adorning your face.

“You have to ask nicely.” He says, making sure to maintain eye contact with you.

“Please.” You whisper, to which Dom gives you a look

“I’m gonna need more than that, princess.”

“Please, daddy. Please fuck me, I need it. I want you to come inside me, I wanna be your good little girl, I-” Your whines are cut short by Dom pushing into you, a string of moans overtaking your sentence as he begins thrusting into you. His skin smacks against your harshly, the sound filling the room. It took a moment for him to find his rhythm, his finger on your clit and his hips pounding ruthlessly into you, but when he did, he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“I can’t wait to get you pregnant, princess, can’t wait for everyone to know you’re mine. That you’re daddy’s little cum slut. That’s what you are, isn’t it? Daddy’s dirty little cum dump. You gonna give daddy a baby, huh?”

“Yes daddy.” You moan

“Mmh, you better. Cause if you don’t you know what I’ll do?”

“No.” You whimper, your gaze meeting his own as his hand came up to wrap around your neck.

“I’m gonna do it again, and again, and again,” Dom says, thrusting hard with each repetition, sure to leave marks for tomorrow “until it takes, and daddy’s little cum slut gives him a baby.”

“Yes daddy.” You say, although it wasn’t much of an order, or a question. Your mind was so clouded with lust you could barely think, the thought of Dom’s hot cum inside you, draining his balls into your wet pussy. The thought of it dripping out and him fingering it back into you, making sure you take every last bit. The thought of a baby growing inside you, showing everyone that you were completely, undeniably his.

“Beg me. Tell me you want that sexy tummy full of this hot cum”

“Please daddy, please give it to me, I want your cum.”

“Yeah, you want it? And what if I do, hm? What if I do cum inside this pretty pussy, hm? No protection, no birth control, nothing. Daddy’s cum is going right into that fertile little fucking womb.” He groans, wrapping his hand tighter around your throat.

“Yes, god, please.”

“Daddy’s got so much cum for you, reach down and feel daddys ball sack. You feel that? That’s all for you princess, such a good girl for me tonight. So patient and obedient, so fucking good for me. It’s all going inside that tight little pussy.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum.” You whimper

“Again? You greedy little whore. Why should I, hm? You already came once, daddy hasn’t cum yet. Why should daddy let a greedy little cum slut like you cum twice in one night?”

“I’ll do anything, anything. Please daddy.” You whined, your voice being strained a bit by his grip on your throat.

“No.” He states firmly, staring down at you falling apart beneath him. Before you knew it your second orgasm hit you like a brick, strained squeals coming out of your throat. His actions stopped momentarily, not allowing you to ride out your orgasm.

“Did you just fucking cum after I told you not to?” He asks

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t help it. It just felt so good daddy, please.” You plead

“Who owns this pussy?” He asks, his thrusts starting up once again.

“You.”

“Tell me again, who owns this pussy?”

“You do. Daddy does.”

“Daddy what?”

“Daddy owns my pussy.”

“Exactly, and when daddy tells you not to do something you don’t do it, disobedient little slut.” He says, his hand coming down against your thigh. Although he was scolding you, you ignoring his demands only egged him on more. You could tell he was close by the way his thrusts became sloppy and desperate, half threats being muttered under his breath as he slowly approached his orgasm, unloading himself in you with a series of groans.

“Now, daddys going to cum inside you and you’re going to” he paused to groan through gritted teeth “Take it. Fucking take it.” He moans through gritted teeth, his grip on your throat loosening as he comes down from his high.

Dom pulls out, admiring the mess he had made inside you, his fingers coming up to push the cum that had dripped out back in.

“Stay here, don’t let it drip out.” He says, adjusting you so your legs are propped up into the air. You followed orders, remaining like that until he returned, although uncomfortable you knew better than to disobey him.

“There we go, make sure not a drop slips out. Make sure you take all my hot fucking cum.” He says, placing the cum plug in your pussy, guiding your legs back to the floor. Dom curled up beside you, laying on the couch, catching your breath and allowing your heartbeats to slow down from your orgasms. Doms fingers came up to tangle themselves in your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp. Your tired eyes closed, glad to finally have some rest after a long, albeit wonderful day.

“What if we really do have a kid?” Dom piped, breaking the silence.

“You’d be a good dad.” You reply, cuddling closer to him.

“They’ll be born in early November.”

“Hm, Autumn, that’s a cute name.”

“What zodiac sign is that?”

“Scorpio and Saggitarius.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” You laughed, your eyebrows knitting together “all I’ve ever heard about sag’s are that they’re sad and horny.”

“Awh, I don’t wanna hear that about my baby. Here, let’s look it up.” Dom offers, reaching over to grab his phone from the floor. You spent the rest of the night wrapped up in eachothers arms talking about baby names and personalities and zodiac signs, getting up momentarily to stoke the fire. You couldn’t believe that something so dirty could shift into something so beautiful so quickly.

#yungblud #yungblud smut #yungblud x reader #yungblud concept #yungblud fanfic

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may-day-voice · 3 years

Text

Prom Night Lights | The Reunion

2nd Edition w/ Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero, Hitoshi Shinsou & Tenya Iida

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/onhumQcEcs8

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1060373778-prom-night-lights-the-reunion-2nd-edition

DENKI KAMINARI | Ivre

It was strange for Denki Kaminari to be so frank with everyone after his many successes in his career. Especially after he had drunk one too many cups of punch. Upon arriving at his old haunting grounds, he parked his car just inside the gates before bumping into Ashido, the both of them arriving at the same time where Kirishima and Sero were hanging around. A few bits of conversation was tossed around here and there until Bakugou came and went, following after another alumni in the process.

Kaminari was thrilled to see his old classmates, buddying up to Jirou upon meeting her, as well as a few other members of his class. Everything was going smoothly, until he helped himself with some of Sato's punch along with Kirishima.

He became a bit of a mess.

"Sero, hey!" He called from across the table. "About that text message you sent-"

"Uh dude, now's not a good time," interrupted Sero with a nervous pull of his lips, his eyes darting around the auditorium.

"Huh? Okay," slovenly agreed Kaminari. "I'll talk to you later, actually, have you seen Aoyama anywhere?"

"Uh, yeah, I just spoke to him a while ago. He's probably at the-"

"Oh there he is!" Exclaimed Kaminari with a wave towards the drinks bar. "Aoyama, hey!" He immediately stood to his feet, a little flushed before he walked up to the fabulous-looking blond, spotting his attire still clean and immaculately refined.

"Ah, Kaminari," greeted Aoyama with a smile. "You look worse for wear."

"Nah, I'm good," reassured Kaminari. "I just wanted to say thank you for your help. I know it was short notice but your tips and tricks really helped."

"You mean that very quick phone call about French?"

Kaminari nodded slowly while he took another sip of his punch, happily enjoying the night. "I mean, I had them going for a little while, but they beat me fair and square. It's great though, thank you so much!"

Aoyama eyed the drunken blond, amused and concerned, before he began to wonder about his predicament. "So, um, where is this villain?"

"Aww, stop calling them that," reminded Kaminari before he pulled out a small device from his pocket. He pushed the device into Aoyama's face, the screen honing on a location very close to Gym Gamma, beeping repetitively.

"They're safe and sound in my car, see?" slurred Kaminari before he placed the honing device back into the pocket of his pants. Clumsily.

Aoyama eyed the blond in mild disbelief. "They're here?"

"Of course, my job needs me to be near them at all times," answered Kaminari, while he finally pocketed the device. "I can't leave them alone at mine."

"Well, yes, but they shouldn't stay alone in the car all night," voiced Aoyama.

"Relax, they're cuffed so they can't escape," reassured Kaminari.

A gasp escaped Aoyama's lips upon hearing this predicament, his tone swaying and swooning disappointingly. "But what about the little Cherie?" He questioned. "Sitting in the car while we're having the night of our lives. I can only imagine what they may be thinking, being locked up all alone unable to do anything."

Kaminari's drunken smile slowly faded after processing Aoyama's words. How long has he been at this reunion now? It may have been a couple of hours, maybe even more. He couldn't tell with all the fun and laughs he joined in speaking and conversing with his old classmates.

"Maybe it is best to invite them here, hm?" suggested Aoyama. "They don't sound as bad as you make them out to be. And besides, as Heroes, we have to set an example."

Kaminari's shoulders slumped at Aoyama's suggestion, his eyes staring down at the floor of the auditorium with an embarrassed look crossing his face. He hadn't been the greatest host, more so, the greatest friend despite the professional stance on his responsibilities.

"I should bring them in, huh?" He asked, a little disheartened at his lack of empathy.

All Aoyama did was beam a smile.

——

You occupied yourself in the car with a basic beat knocking the door and shaking the cuffs. Night had already fallen outside and the sound of crickets hit your ears, but time felt still that you had no idea how much had passed. An hour or two? There wasn't much to keep you entertained while Kaminari enjoyed his reunion. You could hear the bass of the music play from the car, spotting the lights of the auditorium glow through the canopies of the trees that lined the walkways. You smiled at the rhythm, recognizing Earphone Jack's music.

You sighed, while you slumped in the passenger seat, reclining the seat a little to find some comfort despite the cuffs and the ankle brace. You regretted not bringing a book to keep you stimulated. If anything, you didn't sign up to hours of boredom.

KNOCK KNOCK

You blinked out of your bored stupor, spotting the blond outside of the car, waving cheerfully yet holding an embarrassed look on his face. It took you back until he walked over to the driver's seat, sitting beside you in the car. It was no surprise to smell the alcohol on him, hitting your senses like a tidal wave.

"So..." started Kaminari. "You doing okay?"

He was definitely drunk.

"I'm fine, I've been worse," you replied with a small smile. "Just the usual checkup tonight?"

"Well, um..." Kaminari's eyes looked away from yours, almost ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"Huh? About what?"

"Leaving you here while I'm inside having the time of my life."

You tried to look into Kaminari's eyes, but he made it difficult. Was this really how he felt? Or was that the alcohol that reeked from him? Learning about the Pro-Hero over the course of his supervision was unpredictable, but watching him now genuinely saddened made you wonder if all of his inhibitions had crumbled.

"You're just doing your job," you reassured, lifting your cuffs to prove a point. "Besides, taking me in a large outing filled with Pro-Heroes and the like would have been a bad idea."

Still, Kaminari wallowed.

"Roi de la Fee? Prince Charmant? Cherie?"

"Stop."

The look on Kaminari's face did not change while he stared off blankly into the car's dashboard. He sat there silent, succumbing to his emotions about the situation currently playing out.

"This is my job, but you're not the job," he explained, his voice laced with a dash of croakiness. "You're a decent human being, and I've left you here like a dog."

"Well, I did say that I was happy to just be under house arrest tonight," you reassured with a wry smile. "That way you could go out and enjoy yourself."

"No, that's not it. I brought you along saying that I needed to keep an eye on you, but really... um..."

Kaminari's eyes continued to cast down on the dashboard, refusing to look you in the eye while he mumbled around with his words and thoughts. You figured he was well drunk, the smell of him didn't deny him of that, but while his eyes rose to meet yours, there was a glint of guilt.

"I guess, I really wanted a plus one here, but at the last minute, I decided to leave you."

There it was. Uncertainty. Similar to how you saw him back at your capture and how he reacted to the situation. However, the both of you conversed many days and nights now, recalling that impromptu outing to a trivial recreation that was mini putt-putt, and have since learnt more about one another. You figured at the very least, his cold feet were brought upon after seeing a friend of his by the academy's gates - a pink-haired, pink-skinned beauty who waved him over.

You sighed and hummed in reply, uncertain yourself as to how to respond to this confession of sorts. Reassurance may look like pity, laughter would definitely make light of his feelings about it, but in the back of your mind, you felt oddly sympathetic to his emotions. You almost felt excited that you were within the walls of the illustrious school.

"I can take you back to mine," Kaminari offered while he scrounged for his keys. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable-"

"Oh no," you interrupted, grabbing hold of his hands. "You are way too inebriated to be driving."

Kaminari only stared at you, dumbfounded, realizing the folly of his suggestion. "Right, um... well I can't give you the wheel and-"

"Kaminari, why did you come back to the car?"

A silence fell between the both of you while you still kept your eyes on Kaminari, the blond taking a deep breath and attempting to think clearly.

"I... I... I spoke to a friend, and he suggested inviting you in to join us tonight."

"Oh? So the Heroes know you have a villain captive by the gates?" You teased in a small jest.

"Not only that but they want to meet you. Not in a scary way, you know, in a good way. Like they want to get to know you, not like interrogating you just, really meet you, and-"

"I guess you've been saying good things about me," you interrupted softly. "Well, as long as you're my chaperone for the night?"

Kaminari turned his eyes onto your smiling ones, beaming with a grin, his face still running warm from the alcohol. "Of course! I mean, if you want to."

A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips while your hands still held onto Kaminari's throughout this conversation. "I would be honored," you replied with a slight bow of your head.

Immediately in his drunken stupor, Kaminari leapt from his seat and out of his car, running over to your door. Sadly, in a momentary lapse of drunkenness, he had forgotten about your wrists still bound by the door with cuffs, causing Kaminari to immediately in his hurry unlatch you from them.

"Sorry," he apologized while he helped you out of his car.

"It's all right Kaminari. I'm okay," you reassured, finding your feet and soon holding Kaminari up as a support for his clumsy ones. He paid no mind though, allowing you to keep his arm propped against you, ensuring his stability on his weak drunken legs.

"Shall we?" He asked.

"Lead the way."

Kaminari shifted while you held onto his arms, propping his weight onto you. Still, he held you, leading this drunken sway from his car down the laneways towards the bright lights of the auditorium. He leaned his head on yours, smelling the alcohol and feeling the flush of his skin on yours. Kaminari had never been this close before, knowing in the back of your mind that his inhibitions were driving him now more than his common sense. You allowed his actions to dictate the trek to the auditorium, until his breath tickled your ear, his words breathless.

"I love you..."

Your smile disappeared for a moment, still on the walk while he continued on.

"... and that's the beginning and end of everything."

You sighed with a heavy heart, smirking at his quotability still drunk, and knowing you've been reading The Great Gatsby thrice now. Yet his choice of words only hurt.

"May I ask, was this friend of yours your French tutor you mentioned earlier?" You asked curiously, trying to keep your thoughts at bay.

All you received was a nervous chuckle from Kaminari, his grin only captivating you despite the hindsight. "That obvious?" He asked while he clumsily tripped on his feet every once in a while.

"Just an educated guess, Cherie."

HANTA SERO | Outfoxed

Hanta Sero smiled up at the large white gates of his academy, memories flooding back in torrents and waves on all of the adventures, and a few mishaps, he got himself involved in with his ragtag of friends. After making his way to his old haunting grounds, Sero greeted Kirishima outside Gym Gamma, smart and casual for the evening to begin.

"Oh yeah, your date!" exclaimed Kirishima in mid-conversation. "How did it go?"

"Uh... it went pretty all right actually," answered Sero, grinning wryly while he recalled a few points made during his rendezvous in the city's museum.

"As long as you feel good about it, there shouldn't be any problems," piped Kirishima's partner. "Seeing them again soon?"

"Um..."

"Hey guys!"

Sero inwardly sighed in relief hearing Ashido's cry from afar, interrupting the conversation, and soon finding Kaminari along with her setting his mind at ease. Kaminari was the only one amongst the group who had full knowledge of his working relationship with you. Having heard of his work with the Commission, and his constant supervision over one of their more villainous assets, Sero thought he could find some advice from the Stun Gun Hero and close friend.

That was until the night was underway.

With Kaminari and Kirishima drunk from punch, Sero had to unfortunately be the sober one at the reunion, seeing how Bakugou couldn't care less about the current situation. A loose eye around the dance floor ensured Kirishima was taken care of, and soon enough, Kaminari became chatty with old schoolmates, leaving Sero a moment of reprieve for himself. He sighed in exasperation, finally relaxing into his chair until he spotted something on his dirty plate.

It looked awfully familiar.

Salutations Bucky.

Sero choked on his breath sitting up on his seat, immediately turning his eyes to scan the enormous auditorium, filled to the brim of every student across their year. How on earth did you get inside, he thought, his eyes darting around the room hoping to spot something familiar - your fur-trimmed clothes, your outfit, even your eyes.

He didn't even notice Kaminari approach him from across the table, his arms leaning onto it in a drunken stupor.

"Sero, hey! About that text message you sent-"

"Uh dude, now's not a good time," interrupted Sero anxiously.

"Huh? Okay, I'll talk to you later, actually, have you seen Aoyama anywhere?"

Sero's mind was elsewhere, his eyes were focused more so through the crowd rather than Kaminari's presence whatsoever. "Uh, yeah, I just spoke to him a while ago. He's probably at the-"

"Oh there he is!"

Sero didn't pay any mind to Kaminari's movements or whereabouts. He only managed to notice something move in the distance, something out of sorts until a flash of eyes met his, disappearing into the crowd. Idle chatter and the cacophony of voices drowned his senses. He could only spot a glimpse of this person, who weaved through the crowd until he emerged finding nobody in the middle of nowhere.

Perhaps he was imagining it. Surely if he walked back to his table that card wouldn't be there. All a trick of the mind, and probably one too many patrols in the city. He scratched the back of his head, playing with the bristles that tickled his palm without realizing he was still being watched.

You stood by the makeshift bar, eyeing the Pro Hero in the middle of the crowd with a smile. Sneaking into the event was a little troublesome, but nothing like taking out a waiter and disguising as them solved that problem. It was strange to walk around... normal. No black eye makeup, no mask, no outfit. Just you, in a waiter's outfit, but truly you.

Looking around the auditorium was a sight to behold. Everyone was here, and you couldn't help the coy feeling that bubbled inside knowing you stood amongst the most prominent Heroes to grace Musatafu this day and age. To your estimate, you had eavesdropped on a fair few conversations, finding some boring, and others mildly amusing. To your dismay, there had been nothing relative to what you were searching for. Nothing close to the Paranormal Liberation Front. Perhaps a reunion wasn't the right locale to discuss work matters, at least in the company you kept.

You started to reset your tray of horderves by the bar, attempting to keep your cover when a strikingly handsome man stood beside you, helping himself to some already on your tray.

"Couldn't wait?" You asked.

"Ah, but it is just too delectable to wait upon Cher," he spoke, his flamboyant nature almost lighting up the room. That accent was just-

"Are you French?" You asked, earning a dazzling smile from the man.

"Oui, well, I do speak French. Aoyama," he introduced with a bow.

You stared at the man inquisitively, wondering about his mannerisms, his speech, and how he projected himself until-

"Nice to meet you," you started while you set yourself with the tray to serve. "I have a question that you might help me with."

"Whatever for?" Asked Aoyama with a flamboyant flair.

"You reckon there are better alternatives to Mio Caro? I don't mind it but I think it's cute."

You soon walked into the crowd, leaving Aoyama off-guard at least. You merged back into the crowd with a smile on your face, semi-proud of your elusiveness while you kept an eye on where Sero had disappeared amongst the large body of alumni around the auditorium. It didn't stop you from stealing an horderve or two for yourself until you felt a tug on your shirt.

"Hey, been working hard?"

The voice was not familiar, and yet it wasn't also at your level, looking down to find a short man beside you. He grinned widely while his eyes looked you up and, well, up.

"You know I could take you behind the scenes of this academy. Show you around," he spoke with an attempt at temptation.

You stifled a chortle that almost burst through your nostrils, only to cover it clearing your throat. You looked around the room, hoping that ignoring him and his comment may be the solution.

"I know all of the more romantic spots here."

Or at least you thought.

"No thank you sir," you spoke as formally as you could.

"Really? You're the most gorgeous person I've seen aside from my fellow classmates here," he continued.

"Why thank you. But I must be going."

You continued your way through the crowds, handing more horderves around only to feel that presence next to you. That short man just didn't quit.

"How about we step outside for some fresh air?" He suggested. "Get out of the noise."

"I quite like it here sir," you rebutted, noticing the tray growing empty until the last horderve was procured through the crowd. "The noise helps me think."

"Well then, if you like to be noisy we could-"

Slam

You quickly threw the empty tray into the man's face. Not so difficult given how short he was before you teleported yourself across the room, your light bursting momentarily through the air. You hoped the commotion with the tray would keep eyes away from you, appearing on the other side, out of sight.

You breathed a sigh of relief. You had never seen persistence to that degree. Still, you couldn't blame the guy for having some good taste, smiling at the thought with a roll of your eyes. You brushed the uniform down from the commotion earlier when the sound of footsteps caught your ear, spotting a shadow that stretched ahead of you from the fairy lights.

Until the tall frame of a dual-haired man in a white suit exited the party, with phone in hand.

He looked distracted, paying attention more to his phone call than to you standing by the doors, until you recognised that it was the one and only Shouto.

"There is nothing more you found?" he asked calmly and yet with a presence that would make your blood run cold, frozen even, despite the irony in that.

"I don't trust them," he continued on the line. "Has the Commission been a little co-operative on their end?"

The word caught your ear, perked them in curiosity and interest, while you leaned against the open doors, intently listening in on this one-sided conversation. A sigh was all you heard, hearing the frustration in the Hero's voice before his eyes looked up at the night sky, watching the stars sparkle brightly above.

"Keep an eye out on anything that's related to Rainmaker at least," he ordered over the phone. "There's something about him I don't like."

A pause cut through the air, waiting for another piece of the conversation to continue only to meet the Hero's exasperated sigh.

"No, it's got nothing to do with my Love, all right?" he spat, almost embarrassed over the comment, until the light tone of a laugh could be discerned over his phone. "Send Aizawa my regards."

With that, Todoroki hung up on his phone, turning back into the auditorium before his eyes merely glanced at you, his scar prominent in the light. You stared at awe at the Hero, watching his aloof and nonchalant gaze follow you while he walked, only for that expression to soften into a smile, nodding at your presence. Your eyes followed him back inside while he affixed his cuffs on his suit. For someone who had a cold front, he was actually a warm person, you thought, leaning back onto the doors again.

"Hate to break it to you, but you seem to be stuck," spoke a voice beside you, catching you off guard, until a smile cracked on your lips.

"All right, you caught me, fair and square," you conceded with your arms in the air, turning to face Sero now by the doors. Sero only stared, seeing you without the getup, without the makeup, without the added exhaustion from troublesome chases the both of you endured. He just saw you, bare for him to see.

"Like what you see?" You piped, almost shyly this time around.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, suspicious of your presence.

"It's all in the news, and I didn't want to miss seeing all of your friends," you replied in jest. "The ones who celebrated your birthday I'd imagine? Besides, it's good to get out and meet new people. And there's nothing worth going after in town anyway."

Sero continued to only stare, lost while he absorbed the most normal facade you wore. His eyes trailed along the outfit, while you chuckled inwardly, feeling the awkwardness in the air.

"I'm sorry," slowly spoke Sero. "It's just... did you steal that outfit?"

"No," you replied in slight offense. "I borrowed it."

Sero eyed you again with a raised brow, assessing your response with suspicion. As he should be. Finding you here amongst his friends was a surprise, but ever since that "date", and every other time he encountered you, there was always a catch.

"... after I knocked the guy out," you ended, earning a slightly panic-strickened Sero to react intensely momentarily. "But they're fine! I made them comfortable... in a kitchen pantry, but they're not hurt!"

Sero sighed exasperatedly at your explanation, giving up in this weak interrogation for your supposed gatecrash into the reunion. Soon the tempo of the music changed, turning into a slow and rhythmic sway. Sero turned to spot the dance floor now calmer, filled with those who began to slow dance in the room. It was a magical sight with the fairy lights, almost like graduation returned to the present again.

"Don't worry, I'll leave. I've brought too much attention anyway," you reassured him. "At least let me have one doggy bag to go."

You turned to the Pro Hero only to find his hand open to you, his torso in a semi-bow while he smiled. It was an odd interaction, one you weren't familiar with.

"May I offer this dance before I do?" He asked genially. "You're here now, so you may as well experience prom."

Your confused stare slowly turned into a smile, taking his hand and being pulled into a sway just outside the doors. He was extremely coordinated, no less from the most agile Pro Hero you've encountered, but he held you gently in his arms while you instinctively without thought, laid your head on his chest. Though the crowd inside enjoyed the atmosphere, you enjoyed Sero's company, underneath the night sky, swaying in his arms. A smile crept on your lips, involuntarily you'd admit. But the sound of Sero's heartbeat felt calming, the deep thrum engulfing your senses.

You felt... normal.

Sero held your body against his wondering how this felt so different from every other time he had encountered you outside of this academy. It felt as if you melted into him, allowing him to take the lead this time. Relinquishing control must have been foreign to you, or so Sero thought, still swaying alone by the doors outside of anyone's prying eyes.

The both of you stopped while you held each other in your arms, embracing this feeling the both of you shared in this moment together. You never would have imagined baring everything you were to this man, staring back into his genuine grin and eyes, silhouetted by the fairy lights behind him. You peeked past him, spying on the crowds that congregated in the auditorium until a familiar face strode gracefully towards Sero from behind.

"Sero, mon ami," called out Aoyama, his hands waving in the air. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Sero blinked from the sudden disappearance of your figure, left with only fractals of light before he turned around to greet Aoyama.

"Hey Aoyama," he replied nervously in acknowledgement.

"How goes that thief you were talking about?"

Sero's hairs stood on end in panic. Were you spotted with him, dancing moments ago together? If he were lucky, he would imagine Aoyama commenting about him dancing with the catering staff, a good sign if he did.

"Well, they've been... elusive," answered Sero, his eyes darting around the doors hoping to spot you somewhere nearby.

"Elusive indeed. I've been thinking about another kind of code name you could tease them with next time you spot them," motioned Aoyama with a sense of pride.

"Huh?"

"I've been thinking that calling them Mio Caro was too, what's the word, specific? It sounded boring the more I thought about it."

Sero wondered what came about with this conversation, but to his relief, Aoyama showed no inkling of him witnessing you with him moments before he interrupted the moment.

"Oh really?" Slowly asked Sero, suspicious about how this came about. "What other ideas do you-"

"Aoyama!" Cooed a voice from outside. "Come meet them! They're awesome!"

Sero and Aoyama both turned to find Kaminari, still drunk, being led or leading his plus one to the door. It looked to be a mess from the both of them, more so because of Kaminari's inebriation. Both men instinctively approached the couple, Sero taking Kaminari and Aoyama offering his arm to his plus one, the villain turned Commission's witness. The group, despite the sloppiness in Kaminari's slurred speech, made their ways back to the doors, unaware of them being watched by you, your eyes taking in the scene, but mostly on Sero before he disappeared into the auditorium.

You breathed a sigh of relief, lying your body atop the roof of the auditorium, staring up at the stars in the sky twinkling much like the fairy lights inside. Your chest bubbled with laughter, happily taking in that moment with Sero - the warmth of his hands, the sway of his feet, the sight of his smile while he led you step by step.

Gate crashing was worth it. You've experienced prom, even if it was only for that brief moment.

"Thanks Bucky."

HITOSHI SHINSOU | Soulmate

It was a long day at the Commission's office before you hopped out to make your way to your reunion. Given that you had only recently spoken to Bakugou and Kirishima due to their mission on Nabu Island, you smiled at the thought to see them dressed up for the night, rather than their disheveled, bandaged selves from whatever happened in the quiet town.

The thought of the reports were fresh in your mind while you strolled towards the academy. Headshots of the suspect were included as well, seeing his smiling face in frame. Compared to most captives, he wasn't cocky, but it looked genuine despite the photo. Still, interrogations would commence in a few days seeing that due process was required before any more information could be collated together.

You spotted a few familiar faces in the street heading towards the school, most of them faces from other classes that you recognized until a mop of purple hair caught your eye loitering by the tall white gates. Hitoshi Shinsou was dressed to the nines, prim and proper, but not in that dark purple suit.

"Hey," you called from afar, catching his eye before you reached him by the gates. "Were you waiting long?"

"Not really," he answered dryly, stretching his limbs. "I was actually getting comfortable."

"I'm just a little disappointed," you commented with a smirk, catching wind of Shinsou's confused expression. "I was really hoping to see you in that suit again."

"Oh, that suit," he murmured apathetically before he sniggered under his breath, walking up to you lazily before his nose hovered close to yours. "Am I not good enough?"

You couldn't help but burst into a giggle with him being so close. An involuntary reaction you were sure, but it gave him a smile seeing you react the way you did, grabbing hold of your hand while his fingers entwined in yours.

"Well you've proven the suit doesn't make the man," you quipped happily.

You could feel his chuckle close to your ear before he slowly pulled away from you, taking you by the hand back into your academy once more. It felt surreal to walk through the paths again, recalling the times you've seen Shinsou take laps around the dorms during off-hour training. Memories flooded back, watching the new generation of students walking past, whispering under their breaths. It didn't phase you though. You could hear every word they were thinking, smiling at their curious natures.

"Did I miss something?" Asked Shinsou beside you.

"Not much," you snarked through your giggles. "Just heard some good things about you."

"Oh really?"

You beamed a smile at him, gently caressing his hand with your thumb while you tried to keep his eye on you. "Sounds like you're a role model for the underprivileged, but you also have a fan club."

News of such magnitude caused his shoulders to stiffen. You spotted it despite the flattering suit he wore only making you chuckle deeper. The look in his eye was a multitude of emotions, ranging from confused, shocked, and utter disappointment. You continued to comfort his hand in yours, still walking past while spotting a group of students whispering, attempting to steal gazes at the both of you making your way to Gym Gamma.

"It's hard to ignore," you concluded, still looking up at Shinsou who looked away, slightly embarrassed. "Want to know what they're saying-"

"No," he interrupted. "I don't need any self-serving praise. I'm here to spend a night with the one person I trust the most. And work needs to be as far away as possible."

You sighed in agreement. Work was becoming a little too close to home having taken on the case with the assassin and the Tartarus prison break. The trip to Polis Massa Bay yielded very little results despite witness accounts of a trio who fit some description to the members of the prison coup. There were no other sightings during that weekend.

Night was on its approach with the dark blues merging with the last dregs of sunset pinks in the sky. Ahead, you spotted the last of your alumni entering the auditorium, pulling gently on Shinsou's arm to quicken your pace. You weren't extremely late by any means, but seeing that most invitees have already entered made it seem so.

"No need to rush Kitten," spoke Shinsou, still allowing you to pull him by the arm.

"Come on, we can't miss Iida's and Yaoyoruzu's welcoming speech," you advised.

"Is that the highlight of your night?"

"No, but it'll make for great vocabulary building."

Shinsou sighed at your rationale but can only smile at your fervent need to join the others inside. It wasn't often either of you would surround yourself with many friends, whether it was work, or just general bad timing. To him, he still couldn't fathom the idea of calling the others friends, but a slip of the tongue here and there had seeped into his own vocabulary, only caught by your ear. He took a deep breath before the both of you reached the doors to the auditorium, filled to the brim of all the students of their graduating year, now grown older and hopefully wiser.

"Shall we?" You asked while your arm wrapped around his.

Shinsou said nothing, only smiling at you before he took the lead inside the brightly lit auditorium, sprinkled with fairy lights.

——

After taking your seats and enjoying the night's festivities, the both of you soon caught up with your former classmates, holding conversation and learning more on the gossip. You smiled at the sight of Bakugou and his now fiancé, recalling that weekend away bumping into the both of them there and chuckling wryly at the awkwardness at the time. You soon noticed Shinsou approach Bakugou and converse with him from afar, watching the irate blond pull faces at him, most probably after a mild insult. You shook your head at how the two of them would still butt heads with one another until you felt something different in the air.

Out of all the surface thoughts you could hear, you suddenly gained access to the conversation between Shinsou and Bakugou, staring off at nothing while you sat at your table amongst the rest of its residents still chatting away. It was difficult to ignore while you intently listened.

"Eh? What about it, Eyebags?" Spoke Bakugou while he took a sip of punch.

"Congratulations," simply replied Shinsou, opening his hand out to the blond.

Bakugou stared at him with a furrowed brow, however he took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Tch, it was nothing."

"So how do you feel?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was the frustration worth it in the end? You were pretty mad on that lunch date," reminded Shinsou with a smirk.

"It's because people like you and your weakass partner were getting in my way the whole time we were there," complained Bakugou.

You cringed at his comment. Bakugou was Bakugou, even though he had softened his edges over the years. Still, it didn't help his rude undertones every once in a while.

"Hey, firstly, they're not weak, and secondly, you just had the worst case of bad luck," explained Shinsou with a slight harsh edge to his voice.

Bakugou scoffed before downing the last of his punch, eyeing the crowd of guffawing alumni until they laid on his fiancé not too far away, laughing and chiding away with his friends at their table. Shinsou caught that look on his face, that cocky smirk obvious to see.

"You worry too much sometimes," he uttered nonchalantly.

"What was that?" Snapped Bakugou.

"You want to make a grandiose gesture, and I bet that you had to slow down when it all went down, right?"

Bakugou sneered at Shinsou's question, almost turning his lips into a pout which caught Shinsou's eye again.

"So, you did take my advice."

"Shut it Eyebags," snapped Bakugou once more, earning a chuckle from the sleep-deprived man while he enjoyed his cup of punch. "You say one more goddamn word-"

"Your secret is safe with me," interrupted Shinsou. "No one needs to know, and besides, nobody would believe that you and I enjoyed that lunch date together anyway."

The sound of Bakugou's scoff echoed in your mind again, realizing that you had finally discovered at least to some degree what Shinsou was insinuating back at Polis Massa Bay. The mere idea that Bakugou had the patience to go through, let alone listen to, Shinsou's advice was astonishing. Perhaps there was a mutual respect between the two over the years since their first encounter back at UA.

You felt proud, swelling almost inside with content that Shinsou grew to become sociable in his own way. However, your eyes turned towards the duo across the hall, spotting Shinsou's eye now on you, sipping his punch from the cup he held. Your shoulders stiffened at his gaze, turning your eyes away from him in slight embarrassment. No one had noticed your reactions at the table as of yet, however Shinsou's words in your head echoed loudly.

"Enjoyed the show?" He asked in your head, feeling it lower between your shoulders, unsure how to react until a hand calmly rested on your back.

You turned up to find Shinsou now by your side with a smirk on his face, as if he could feel every fibre in your being burn with mortification over your impromptu eavesdropping. The next thing you knew, he took you by the hand, leading you from the table and walking with you around the auditorium, circling the dance floor filled with already jovial fellow alumni.

"We never did dance at our graduation, didn't we?" asked Shinsou, taking your mind from the earlier teasing nature he threw at you so suddenly.

"No, I think we both agreed to stay out of it," you answered, reminiscing the year graduation was underway, filled with already drunken students enjoying the night from years of tutelage.

Shinsou hummed in thought while he clutched onto your arm, your hand in his, until the song slowly turned into a slower tempo, watching the swarm of alumni shift on the floor and the couples taking stage. Still standing outside the ring of the dance floor, Shinsou turned to face you, guiding your hand onto his shoulder while he held onto you, soon swaying on the spot irregardless of whoever was watching.

Hitoshi, we should be on the dance floor, you spoke in your head, staring up into his tired yet smiling eyes.

It doesn't matter. We can dance wherever we want, he replied back in your mind, his lopsided smile turning into a small grin.

The both of you shared this moment together, swaying to and fro outside of everybody else, to the tune of your own beat and in each other's company. You melted into Shinsou, while you listened to the beat of his heart in his chest, slow and calm. Shinsou only wrapped you in his arms, content to have you, and yet pondered further on many things. After conversing with Bakugou over the course of his life decisions, at least unexpectedly, Shinsou thought more on the topic at hand. It felt just right for him to make plans.

And he hoped you weren't eavesdropping this time, while his hands trailed up your back, holding you to him.

TENYA IIDA | Belated

The sound of your breath heaved violently in your lungs while you rushed through the streets, every so often weaving past passersby with ease.

Some of the time.

"Hey watch it!"

"Oops, sorry!" You called back with a twirl, adjusting a piece of your outfit while still in motion. Crossing the street yielded catastrophic results, at least for some of the drivers who blared their horns at your seeming obliviousness.

You grinned happily at your anticipation, the excitement brewing in your gut when you spotted the tall white gates ahead belonging to the most prestigious Hero Academy in all of Musatafu. To step foot through those gates felt like a privilege in itself, otherwise it was just general hype over the years staring off into the distance from your school grounds years ago.

Why must you be such a fanatic? No wonder people saw you differently, you thought, shrugging it away until you approached the tall gates, handing your pass for this reunion that most probably was about to proceed with its orientation speech. You bit your lip nervously. After being allowed onto the premises, a little dread crept in your mind that you were going to miss the reason why you were invited.

Your boss, Tenya Iida, was about to make the honorary welcoming speech.

And you were fashionably late.

Now fully dressed despite being a little rough around the edges from your rush through the city from Idaten's agency, you ran with large strides towards Gym Gamma, thankful that you had quickly asked the security guards by the gates the general direction towards the auditorium. You ignored the confused looks of students who were leaving the premises, heaving heavily again until you spotted the fairy lights that decorated the paths.

You chuckled brightly, rekindling some hope that maybe you made it just in time. Perhaps they stalled for a moment, like how cinemas ran advertisements before the commencement of the movie. Maybe they were still mingling about, something you can easily just slip into without anyone knowing the wiser. There were many ways this would end, but surely, once you reached the open doors of the auditorium, you rounded the corner abruptly.

"And safe!" you yelled, suddenly catching wind of the echo of your voice that blasted in the very silent auditorium.

The awkwardness felt so thick that you could potentially slice it with a knife, finding that all eyes were on you by the doors. You slowly peeked into the large room, your eyes immediately drawn towards the podium set up for the night where the two MCs stood - one a voluptuous dark-haired beauty with hair you wished was your own, and the other, your boss, mouth slightly agape while he eyeballed you through his glasses. You cringed at the scene before you cleared your throat, lightly waving at everybody inside before you slowly walked away from the doors, turning to hide from prying eyes.

You couldn't help a groan escape from your throat, head heavy, wondering if that was the exhaustion catching up to you from your rush to get here, or the embarrassment of possibly interrupting the party. Still, you overheard the MCs continue on with their speech, listening into their anecdotes over the course of their school years. It was pleasant to imagine how they coloured their experiences while you leaned against the wall, smiling, listening intently to Iida's regimental tone.

----

Eventually the rising volume of voices and chatter was your queue to enter into the auditorium, less rowdy and out-of-breath than you were earlier. Your eyes darted around in search for Iida, but quickly found your way towards the flurry of tables when a green-haired gentleman called you over - quickly realising it was the Number One Hero, Deku. Your heart skipped inside your ribcage, but you attempted to keep a cool facade, welcomed by the table of Heroes while they led you to your seat right next to Iida's, which was empty.

"Glad you could make it," welcomed the Number One. "We've heard a lot of things about you.."

"Oh, good things I hope?" You questioned nervously.

"Well, I figured your grand entrance was the cherry on top."

That nervousness grew tenfold upon hearing that from the Number One. It only set your mind to wonder what exactly Iida had said about you to others, let alone, and most probably, to all his close friends and classmates.

The churn in your stomach was blatantly difficult to ignore, clutching onto it while you nervously laughed further. "Sorry, I just ran from work to get here. Haven't had a bite to eat since breakfast this morning."

Suddenly, as if by some miracle, a plate appeared in front of you, served with tonight's dinner now lukewarm. The sound of the chair beside you pulled from the table caught your ear until you felt the presence of a large figure sit by your side, his arms crossed in mild frustration.

You knew that judgemental energy anywhere.

"Thanks Tenya," you slowly spoke, eyeing the tall man while he righted his glasses upon the bridge of his nose.

"You're late," he spoke dryly.

"Fashionably."

"Don't start."

"But I was on a roll," you explained with a whine. "I was on the precipice of completing Stage Two!"

"Didn't you call them Phases?"

"Close enough."

"No it isn't. You need to be consistent."

"Is everything all right?" Asked Todoroki, eyeing the both of you next to Midoriya.

"Everything's fine," clarified Iida, clearing his throat in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

"Sorry, I just get excited when I talk about Big Blue," you admitted before you dug into your plate of food.

"Big Blue?" Continued Todoroki, still with an aloof expression despite the question.

"Yeah, she's my baby," you simply replied between gulps of food.

"You named your daughter Big Blue?"

"Uh, Todoroki, I think that's not exactly what they're talking about," clarified Midoriya.

"Big Blue is one of their passion projects back in Idaten's Research and Development," explained Iida with a sigh, eyeing you still gorging on the dinner plate. "It's meant to be used in an emergency, once they've completed the build and preliminary tests."

"It's officially called Belligerent Backup, or BB for short," you emphasized while still trying to be in conversation. "But I like Big Blue better."

Iida pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted from your high levels of energy and excitement. Aside from the few coffee trips he made to R&D, he hadn't heard much from you coming up to this reunion, cooped up in the workshops at the agency to even take notice of the day and time. He felt lucky that he rescued a plate for you when you surely arrived, seeing as you never made it earlier this evening before doors opened into Gym Gamma.

"You're really passionate about this, huh?" Asked Yaoyoruzu from across the way, recognizing that she was the one that stood next to Iida on stage.

"It's not the act of creating the invention, it's the process and journey along the way that really excites me," you admitted. "Like the one time when I had to test for Tenya's breathing performance, which required having to create a mold of his-"

"Okay that's enough," interrupted Iida, causing a small pout to form on your lips before you finished the rest of your meal.

Despite being close to age, Iida still held rank above you. Of course, being the brother of Tensei Iida, the man behind the formation of the agency, was a good reason why, but that didn't stop Iida's tendency to check on your health every chance he had. The thought of it brought a smile on your face.

Soon the party was underway, you watched the crowd mingle and dance together on the dance floor, spotting many congregate around some key players. Iida made the rounds with you only for you to trap Cellophane in conversation after he discussed his recent happenstance with a certain thief on his patrols as of late. The thought of upgrading his gear was tantalizing.

"Seriously, you need the latest tech to help you out, and I know just the thing," you quipped excitedly.

"Really?" Asked Sero, curious of your suggestion.

"That my friend would be me!" You piped with thumbs pointing at you. "This thief of yours won't have a chance against any tech I make."

"You're sounding a lot like Hatsume."

"Wait, you know her?"

"We all do. She made most of our tech back when we were students."

Slack-jawed from the epiphany, you turned to Iida next to you, your expression hurt and betrayed. "You didn't tell me this!" You shouted, throwing a finger at Iida.

"I thought it wasn't relevant," he replied dryly.

"I need to know these things. How else do I know who I'm up against previously?"

"It's none of your concern."

"Anyway, it'd be great if you swung by Idaten," you suggested while turning to Sero with a smile. "I can solve your dilemma, or at least give you an upper hand." With a flick of your wrist, you handed Sero a business card, complete with your details and the Idaten insignia emblazoned on its stock. You completely ignored the exasperated sigh from Iida behind you.

"Uh... thanks," mused Sero while he took the card from your hand, spotting his eye towards the dance floor. "It was nice meeting you, but I gotta save a friend, sorry."

"Give me a call!" You shouted after, watching the Tape Hero make his way towards the floor, noticing his intention to help Chargebolt who draped over his plus one.

Your eyes drifted around, feeling the heaviness of sleep weigh on your mind before you decided to recite to yourself what you observed. Earphone Jack, the muso who headed the night's entertainment along with her Hero career, enjoyed a night along with her classmates; Uravity, the caring Gravity Hero who had been rising in rank as of late, conversing with Deku; Tsukuyomi, the dark Hero enjoying the night while chaperoning a friend of his by the looks of it, and then-

"What's the progress on BB?" Asked Iida next to you. Your eyes piqued at his voice, spotting his tall frame now with a serious look.

"Oh? Um, she's coming along," you started. "As you know Phase One was a success, but by my calibrations, she needs to have more injection in her acceleration capacitors. Phase Two should be complete in the next couple of days, give or take, depending on how her balance and suspension perform."

"They're Phases now?" Questioned Iida with a quirked brow.

"They've always been Phases," you beamed with a smile, earning an exasperated sigh from Iida. "Although, it would be wise that we test it on the field. I'd need to know exactly how it would function in a live scenario. Dummies would be ineffective in seeing how it would perform."

Iida spotted the serious look on your face, your mind mulling over the quandaries in your head. "How about you test it with me?" He suggested.

"What? No!" You cried with an outburst. "It's meant to be a surprise!"

"Having anyone else in our agency as volunteers to your projects is unwise," explained Iida. "At least I'm aware of BB's project."

"Yeah but that would destroy any usable data on its effectiveness."

"Call it a control group. You'll need to understand how BB works with someone who knows the weapon before improving its capabilities for someone who doesn't. What fun would there be if you don't continue mastering and finessing?"

You eyed Iida, watching his calm smile on his lips. You couldn't disagree when he was being agreeable.

"Fine, I concede," you spoke dryly. "Would you be available by the end of this week for an hour session?"

"It's a date," he replied, squeezing your shoulder tenderly before he opened his arm to you, inviting you to join him while you stared at this invitation.

"Want to meet more of my friends?" He asked smoothly while you took his arm in yours, standing next to the tall man with a grin.

"Why, I do declare Mr. Iida. You are too kind," you jested with a humorous accent.

"Please don't speak like that when I introduce you."

You only beamed at the man with a toothy smile before being chaperoned throughout the reunion, meeting a very drunk Chargebolt hanging off from his plus one still, a demure Shouto with his infamous Sidekick partner, and bypassing Ground Zero without a hello (and probably for the better). After knowing Iida for years back at the agency, he had opened up a part of his world to you, happy to introduce you to the eyes of Pro-Hero Society a little later than ever.

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